#existed until like last week when I got really excited about the doctor who specials so I logged onto to tumblr for the first time in a
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Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?
T W E N T Y O N E
SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..
TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc
Read on AO3: twenty one
***
“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.
“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”
“How hard that must be for you.”
He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.
“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.
He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”
Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.
“Only got eyes for you, promise.”
***
It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.
And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.
Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.
The problem was, it was her birthday party.
Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.
But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.
That was until Jackie called.
“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.
Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.
“You sure you want me there?”
She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”
And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.
Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,
“Hello.”
“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”
“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”
‘Oh, absolutely not.”
“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”
He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”
“That’s good to know.”
After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.
“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.
But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.
As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness — he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.
It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.
He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.
“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.
Tell her!
“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.
Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”
“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”
“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”
“Don’t worry, I took notes.”
She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.
“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”
“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”
“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”
“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”
“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”
“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”
“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”
“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”
He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.
He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.
And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.
“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.
“Pepsi alright?” she said.
His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—
“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”
“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.
“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”
He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”
“So what is your thing, then?”
Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”
She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.
“Not something I would have expected you to say.”
When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,
“I’m Laura, by the way.”
“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.
“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”
It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”
She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”
As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.
“No. Just me.”
Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”
If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.
“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”
As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.
“Malibu and Coke, please.”
Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”
Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”
“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”
“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”
Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”
Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.
“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.
“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”
“How hard that must be for you.”
He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.
“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.
He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”
Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.
“Only got eyes for you, promise.”
She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.
“Having a nice night?”
Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”
He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”
She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”
She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.
“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.
“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”
He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”
“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”
She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,
“What’s on your mind?”
“Hmm?”
“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”
She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.
“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”
So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.
“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.
“Cousin.”
“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”
“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”
“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”
“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”
“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”
He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”
Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”
As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.
“Blimey, right then.”
Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.
There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.
Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.
“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”
The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.
He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”
“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”
“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”
“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”
Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”
“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”
“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.
“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”
“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.
“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”
“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”
“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”
She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.
“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”
“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”
“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.
“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,
“Incorrect!”
“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.
“That is correct!”
The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”
“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.
“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.
“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.
“Not a chance.”
“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”
“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.
“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”
“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.
The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”
Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”
“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”
“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”
“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.
“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.
“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.
“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.
“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”
“Oh my god no!”
“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.
“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”
“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.
“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.
“That is correct!”
Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”
“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”
She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”
“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.
“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”
“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.
“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.
“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.
“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”
Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”
“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.
“More detail needed!” Grace called.
“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.
“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.
“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.
“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.
“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”
“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”
Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”
“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.
Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.
He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.
“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”
She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.
He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.
The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.
He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.
He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.
It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.
He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.
He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.
He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.
“You alright?” she asked.
“Hmm?”
She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”
He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”
Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.
“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.
“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”
Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.
Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.
“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”
“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”
“I think you like them, really.”
“I like you, there’s a difference.”
She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”
“You understood that correctly, yes.”
Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.
“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”
He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.
“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”
He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.
“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”
She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”
“Whoever told you that?”
She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”
He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”
“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”
“That they were.”
And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,
“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”
He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.
“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.
She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”
“Then what changed?”
She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,
“I met a Time Lord.”
And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.
“Rose—”
“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”
“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”
“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.
“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”
“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”
His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.
Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.
So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.
He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.
And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.
His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.
“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.
She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.
He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.
“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”
He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.
But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.
“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.
She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.
Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.
Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.
“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”
He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”
She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.
“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”
“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”
“Your bag’s inside.”
“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”
He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”
“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”
“It’s only you they know.”
“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”
“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.
He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.
“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.
Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.
God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.
“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.
Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.
He was falling in love with it.
“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”
“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”
“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”
He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.
“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”
He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.
“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”
He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”
“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”
He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”
“Not even for a good shag?”
He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.
“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”
“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”
She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.
“But it’s not all I want.”
“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”
And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.
“But what?” he probed.
She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”
Ah yes, he grimaced. That.
The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.
Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.
“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”
She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.
“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh.
“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”
“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”
The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.
“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”
She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”
He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”
Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.
“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”
“I can take an educated guess.”
“And you really want this too?”
He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”
She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“
“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.
“Why me?”
“Why you, what?”
“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”
“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.
So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.
“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”
He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.
“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.
“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“
“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.
“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”
“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”
“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”
“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”
“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.
“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”
“Christmas dinner?”
“I’m there.”
“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”
“Even that.”
“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”
“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”
Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”
“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.
“It’s what domestics have done to you.”
“No, no, it’s definitely you.”
The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.
Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—
“Rose!”
They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.
“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”
“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.
He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.
“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”
Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”
She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.
“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”
The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.
“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”
The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.
“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”
“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.
“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”
“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”
And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.
He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.
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Hello I love stuff! So I remember that you headcanons about the main 6 realizing that they're in a game. Can you do headcanons for the main 6 actually appearing in the real world and meeting the player? Imagine the chaos that would ensue when they come into contact with modern technology.
But like... really imagine it. Really just think about playing the game one day and POOF your fav LI is sitting beside you, completely real and a little messy as they look at you with wide eyes
Also, for the sake of these headcanons we’re going to say the LI is aware that they were in a game :) (because I don’t feel like dealing with any existential crises)
Warnings: none!
-Asra Alzanar-
Definitely the most chill about popping into another world. Pretty normal stuff for him when spells go backwards
You on the other hand backed up against the wall like a blushing mess while he calmed you down as quickly as he could. He was calmer than you simply because he’s always sensed that there was more to the mc in the game than what met the eye
Asra was a fast learner as you taught him all about Earth
It was interesting, to say the least, having to explain Asra’s presence for the few weeks he was with you before the spell wore off. Luckily, by saying he was an exchange student and using a few deception spells, it was no problem
Sorting out his fashion sense was interesting too
“No, Asra, you can’t wear mystical robes or magical amulets to the cafe.”
“But… magic is my thing.”
“But magic isn’t a thing here.”
He ended up playing with a lot of different styles of our world and unfairly looked amazing in all of them??? He’s aesthetic in everything??
Always sweet and affectionate, touching you in some way because he can’t really believe he gets to the meet the real you <3
Whenever you went out, he liked to hold your hand
He really liked getting to learn about your life outside the game, like your hobbies, school/work, and other such interests
He was really happy to meet your friends and family, sizing them up to decide if he completely trusted them to take care of his darling apprentice
If you come from a bad home or anything, it’d break Asra’s heart and he’d do literally everything in his power to help you. And with any other problems in your life, he’d put his heart and soul into helping you too
When he had to leave, he taught you a special way to make the game glitch so he’ll know that something is really wrong and he’ll come to the real world asap
-Nadia Satrinava-
More than a little surprised that Asra’s spell landed her here
You two made eye contact and it took you both a second to process what was going on
“Oh. Good evening, Nadia. What brings you here?”
“Good evening. It seems Asra’s spell has landed me in your home world.”
And then the “??!!?!!?!?” feeling hit both of you and you went into extreme planning mode
In a few minutes, you two had figured out when Asra’s spell would wear off and bring her home, a cover story for Nadia’s stay, and had everything planned perfectly because y’all are a power couple
Nadia had a bit of a rough first day with technology and no servants to help her figure all this new stuff out
The first time she saw a car was when you were walking outside your house, and she yanked you behind a bush because she thought it was some sort of monster
She was super flustered when you explained it was just a car, but you insisted you thought it was sweet of her to “protect” you
Nadia felt really bad about not being able to pay you back for your kindness and tried to make up for it by being helpful around the house
No matter what type of wardrobe you have, Nadia helped plan your outfits for the few weeks she was there
You two went shopping once and she managed to get a bunch of deals
Yeah, she’s better at sweet talking and bartering than you’ll ever be :(
She wanted to know all about your interests and hobbies, they’re all fascinating to her
She gives the best advice and listens attentively to any of your problems
Have any toxic friends? Rude family members? Teachers or bosses making your life miserable? Nadia will verbally demolish them and make sure you’ll be treated well after she’s gone
When she eventually had to leave, she left you a sweet letter to read whenever you’re sad
-Julian Devorak-
Pure utter chaos when he first pops in
You’re yelling, he’s yelling, everything is a mess
Eventually, you both calm down though and manage to talk things out, Julian rambling so quickly you can barely understand him
The two of you manage to figure out that Asra’s spell will last a few weeks. So, in the meantime, Julian is stuck with you
At first he acted all confident as he tried to convince both himself and you that he had this entire situation under control
That is, until he stepped into the kitchen and nearly caused three disasters in five seconds
You gave him a crash course on Earth and he literally took notes and made flashcards that he would randomly look at as you showed him around
When friends and family began to question his presence, the both of you had this elaborate story about how Julian was a childhood friend who was stopping in town to meet up with his family. There were character names and everything, y’all really got into it
He’s fascinated by the medical advances in the real world and loves all those hospital shows like Grey’s Anatomy. You two are definitely going to spend some time cuddled up on the couch watching those shows
He was so excited about seeing everything and kind of frustrated he couldn’t get you anything as a way to repay you for taking care of him and being such a good teacher in general
He actually picked a bunch of flowers for you, and while you’re certain he stole some of them, it was a very kind gesture
If you got sick at all during his stay, he’d go into doctor mode and nurse you back to health
He was constantly making plans to spend every single second he could with the real world version of you, so that he could return to his world knowing as much about you as he could
-Muriel-
When he simply appeared in your room you two silently stared at one another for a very long time and then began to panic
Muriel was more flustered than you because it took him a second to realize he was right in front of the real mc, the real version of you
You managed to calm him down though, and after that it was pretty smooth sailing
Muriel was not a fan of the attention he got for his height whenever you two went out to malls or other such public spaces
It was just a lot to process. You both knew each other, but Muriel’s mind couldn’t quite process the real world version of the mc he knew so well and you couldn’t quite believe that Muriel was here in real, 3-D form
It was even harder for you because everyone wanted to know all about him and kept asking all these questions him
That’s why you spent the majority of your time in less public spaces or just stayed home and enjoyed things like baking, video games, and movies
Muriel really enjoys farming games like Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing and he’s really good at them too
Is 100% down to be a listening ear for all your real world problems
He feels a little guilty that he’s known you for so long, yet this is the first time he’s been able to help you with your real life problems
So he plans on being as helpful as he can be for the few weeks he’s with you and insists on helping with any chores around the house
When he had to leave, he tried to stay calm, but the moment you started getting upset, he’d get upset too
He left you a wood carving of one of your favorite things, like a favorite animal, favorite character, favorite something that would mean a lot to you and show you there’s always of part of him with you
-Portia Devorak-
When Portia suddenly popped into existence beside you, you were both surprised, but like, too shocked to properly freak out?
“Oh. Hello, Portia.”
“Oh. Hello to you too. You look a little different… where are we?”
You managed to get in a pretty calm explanation about where she was and a bit of info about the modern world before she started freaking out
She was stuck here for two weeks and neither of you knew any way to get her back to her own world, so you decided to just go with it
Portia was mystified by all parts of modern life
Her favorite things are always the clothes and the food
Technology low key scared her for the first few days, but you helped her adjust
Her favorite thing is ordering stuff online because there’s so much cool stuff!!! And she can get it all in the click of a few buttons!!! So cool!!!
She always links your arm with hers when you’re showing her parts of town so that the two of you can’t get separated
She’s pretending to be a good friend of yours who is coming from out of the country and will be staying for a few weeks
You two do a lot of baking and Portia only starts one, little fire by using the microwave wrong :)
If you have any big problems in your life Portia is an absolute sweetheart about them. She listens perfectly and will give you all the advice and comfort you need
She’s such a cheerleader and gives you a bunch of compliments and support that she can’t give to you in the game
When the time came for her to leave, she wrapped you in her arms and wouldn’t let go until Asra’s spell pulled her back into the game
After she left, you realized she had secretly made you a cute stuffed animal version of Pepi just for you <3
-Lucio-
S c r e a m i n g
He got really defensive really fast because he was so confused
You confused him because you look a lot like the mc in the game but, since this is the real world you, you look recognizable but different
You had to carefully pry the make-shift weapon he had grabbed and explain who you were and what you thought had happened
After that Lucio chilled out but was still a little on edge
With all the technology you showed him he either loved it or hated it
Itty bitty phone screens that don’t respond to his metal hands, somewhat larger tv screens that are as confusing as Asra’s magic, and dumb people called Siri who can’t understand him? Stupid
Super fast cars and speakers that blare music? Very cool
He wasn’t the best at hiding the fact that he’s from a game and almost let it slip a few times
So you have to dive into the conversation to assure this random stranger that no, your exchange student is only joking about being a count, isn’t he hilarious???
Give him a sharp elbow in the ribs to shut him up, works 9/10
He loves movie theaters so much and will beg to go there all the time while he’s with you
He’s always very touchy because this is probably the only time he’ll get with the real version of you, and he wants to savor every bit of it
He’s an extremely picky eater and seems to only like the food you make
While spending time with the version of you in the game is always fun, it was always wonderful to get to meet the real you. A few weeks didn’t feel like nearly enough time to get to know you
He acted like going back to the his world wasn’t a big deal up until the last second when the spell started pulling him back. Then, blinking away tears, he wrapped you in a far too tight hug that was surprisingly comforting
#the arcana headcanons#asra x reader#nadia/reader#lucio headcanons#portia imagines#julian hcs#muriel x apprentice#asra headcanons#asra the magician x mc#asra/apprentice hcs#asra imagines#asra alzanar/mc#countess nadia/mc#nadia satrinava headcanons#nadia imagines#the arcana nadia hcs#nadia x apprentice#count lucio x reader#nadia x mc#lucio/reader#lucio imagines#lucio hcs#lucio morgasson/mc#portia/reader#portia devorak x mc#portia x apprentice#portia headcanons#portia hcs#julian x reader#julian devorak/apprentice
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And Baby Makes Three
MASTERLIST
Happy Valentine’s Day! To celebrate, I’m bringing some more fluff, but specifically daddy Spencer. This was requested by @one-sweet-gubler. I had so much fun writing this one and got a bit carried away as I ended writing about the whole pregnancy instead of just the labor part, so it may be a little long. I hope you enjoy all the Daddy Spencer feels. :)
Spencer Reid/Reader
Rating: G (fluff)
Word Count: 4,278
Spencer was over the moon when you finally fell pregnant.
The two of you had been trying for a baby for a year, with many difficulties. After a plethora of negative tests and even a false positive, you were over the moon when you found out this positive test was the real thing.
You’d taken 6 tests to be sure.
After a visit to the doctor confirmed it, you were determined to make the surprise something special for Spencer.
He had been dreaming about having kids almost all of his life. He was so good with children and the children he encountered at his job, an FBI profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. It was usually scary situations when he encountered kids , but he was always there with soothing words and gentle hugs.
You, with the help of his work family, surprised him at work one day. You were so close to his teammates yourself, you knew you wanted them to be a part of the surprise as well.
You showed up at the BAU under the pretense that he’d forgotten something at home.
The team had just gathered around the round table to brief about a new case when you walked in. Of course, Spencer was the only one truly surprised one to see you.
You’d apologized for interrupting and said that he’d left something at home that you needed to bring to him. You held up a paper bag, which only confused him, knowing he’d been sure to grab his lunch.
Everyone had watched in anticipation when he pulled a gift box out of the bag.
He’d opened it to a white onesie that when unfolded said Hi Daddy, I can’t wait to meet you. Underneath it was the first ultrasound picture of tiny baby Reid.
He was so shocked that at first he didn’t know what to do. His gaze moved around all the smiling faces at the table, then landed on you, his face breaking into a huge smile.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.” Your own smile was as big as his.
He’d rushed towards you, hugging you tight and spinning you around in his excitement before the entire team surrounded you both giving hugs and their congratulations.
You were officially going to be parents.
•
Pregnancy wasn’t exactly a breeze for you, yet it wasn’t as bad as some women’s.
The first trimester was filled with lots of nausea, vomiting and exhaustion.
Spencer assured you that it would normally pass by the end of the first trimester. Thankfully it did, but until that point you felt like you lived off of crackers and ginger ale.
He was always the sweetest with you, making sure your supply of both never ran out. When he was home on cases, he’d cuddle with you on the couch letting you have pick of whatever show you wanted to watch—which of course you’d let him end up picking, no matter what. You would lay with your head in his lap and he’d mindlessly play with your hair. Those were some of the best days of your early pregnancy.
By your second trimester, new symptoms arrived, as did the appearance of baby Reid. By 15 weeks, you’d started to show just enough to look pregnant and not actually bloated.
Spencer would always rub the tiny bump and talk to the baby, things that made your heart soar. It was little gestures like that that made you fall more in love with him each day.
Not only had your belly grown, but so had your appetite. You had started craving things with a vengeance, something that would often mix horribly with your unbalanced pregnancy emotions. It would be like the two wires would accidentally cross in your pregnancy brain, leading to a meltdown.
One night you’d been craving avocados so badly, you’d gone downstairs to eat the last one that you’d been saving. You found it gone, not even remembering you had already eaten it.
Spencer found you on the kitchen floor sobbing over the fact there were no avocados. He’d ended up running to the store at 9 o’clock at night to buy at least two dozen of them. You’d felt so bad afterwards, but he’d only kissed you and assured you that it was only the pregnancy hormones.
“You’re growing a little human, you’re allowed to be a little crazy sometimes,” he comforted you.
Besides the mood swings, cravings and even heartburn, you were most surprised at the changes in your libido.
You could attest that your sex life with Spencer had never been more steamy than it was then; you were sure he could agree.
20 weeks came and you’d both agreed to find out the sex.
Instead of finding out at the doctor’s, the team had gotten together to throw a gender reveal party—mainly Penelope Garcia’s idea as she was stoked to have another BAU baby around, so who could refuse her?
Obviously it was a small get together with just the BAU team, Spencer and yourself. JJ had been in charge of getting the results, Garcia had baked the cake with the color reveal in it and of course Rossi had supplied his house as the location, as per usual.
You and Spencer both cut into the cake simultaneously and pulled out the first piece, revealing a pink hued cake.
You were thrilled, but you think it was safe to say that Spencer was ecstatic.
•
Baby names were tough.
You’d yet to start talking about names because Spencer wanted to wait until you’d found out the sex before picking a name.
“I want it to be special,” he whined a little, his bottom lip jutting out, “She deserves a good name.”
“I’m still not naming my child Aphrodite, Spencer.”
You had left it to him to research a name; he was so passionate about it, you couldn’t say no. After all, you wanted him involved in every way possible since he couldn’t technically carry the baby.
“Aphrodite was the goddess of love and beauty,” Spencer retorted, still flipping through books.
He was on the floor surrounded by text books, baby name books, pregnancy guide books, you couldn’t even figure out what else. He’d always been a big reader, but he made sure thus far to have as much knowledge as he could on pregnancy, childbirth and parenting.
“After all, her mommy is a goddess,” he smirked as he flipped a page.
“Why Spencer Reid, that was actually quite smooth of you.”
You ruffled his hair before leaning down and kissing him on the lips. His hands cupped your belly and he gave it a kiss too.
“Well she wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t.”
You laughed and playfully shoved him, leaving him to his reading.
•
Around 22 weeks, you felt her first movements. At first it felt like a small gurgle from your stomach and you’d stopped what you were doing, waiting to see if you’d feel it again.
When the sensation happened, it was like the soft wings of a butterfly brushing the inside of your belly. You’d ran to Spencer, thrilled that you’d finally felt her move. He pouted when he realized it wasn’t yet strong enough for him to feel from the outside.
“Keep on growing, little one,” he’d whispered to your belly, “Daddy wants to feel your kicks too.”
When she started kicking, she kicked hard.
Spencer’s reaction to feeling her kick for the first time was amazing. You could see all the love in his eyes for the little baby girl you’d both created, growing and getting stronger every day.
“I feel you baby girl,” he smiled at your belly, rubbing the spot she’d just kicked, kissing it gently.
Then he took your face in his hands and kissed you so lovingly it left you breathless.
“Thank you for being amazing,” he’d murmured against your lips before kissing you again.
•
5 months had become 6 months. Six nearly had nearly become seven.
You were almost 7 months and at your third trimester and you still hadn’t picked a name for baby girl.
Although one day, it just seemed to click into place.
“I got it!” he’d declared, looking up from a baby book.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” you said, intrigued.
“How about Arabella? It’s a Dutch name for beautiful.”
“Arabella,” you let the name roll off your tongue and you smiled, “It’s perfect for her. Now what about a middle name?”
He was already flipping through pages again, reading fast as lightning.
“I haven’t gotten that far. I’ve only gotten the first name down.”
You chuckled, “At this rate we might name her by the time she graduates from high school.”
He didn’t reply, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. It was then that a thought occurred to you, or rather a name.
“How about Joy?”
“Hmm?” he asked, still distracted by the text.
“Joy. For her middle name. Because we’re so overjoyed about her.”
He looked up, thinking.
“Arabella Joy Reid,” he said, trying it out, then looking back at you.
“It’s perfect.”
•
The final trimester was the real challenge.
Your body was swollen and sore, you felt huge and you were constantly exhausted. Spencer was the best at spoiling you and Arabella though. Between the cute baby things he bought—one being an onesie that said Daddy’s Little Genius—he would fix meals when he was home, run a bath for you and cuddle you afterwards.
You would often make remarks about how big you felt but he would immediately squash your insecurities saying you looked even more beautiful while pregnant.
When he left for work or for a case, he’d always make sure to kiss your bump as well as kissing you before he left, his way of saying goodbye to his girls.
As the time crept closer to her being born, his excitement grew. He couldn’t wait for your family to expand. It was so endearing to see him so happy and excited. You knew he didn’t get to have the same experience as you did currently, so you understood that he was more than eager to have her here and bond with her.
He was going to make an amazing dad.
As much as you wanted to meet your little bundle of joy, the impending approach of labor made you nervous. Obviously being a first time mom, you only knew what you’d heard and read, not what the actual experience would be like.
“Some studies have said that childbirth actually hurts more than broken bones,” Spencer had told you.
“Not helping!” you groaned.
He winced, quickly realizing his mistake.
“Well at least there’s medication now for labor pains unlike in old days when they used to—”
You stopped him in the middle of his sentence.
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” you said, “You better believe the moment I can get an epidural, I’m going to get it.”
“Whatever you’re most comfortable with is fine by me.”
He squeezed your hand, showing you that you truly did have his support. He hated to see you in pain and he knew labor was going to be strenuous, but you knew he’d be there with you every step of the way.
“Just think in two weeks we’re going to be able to finally meet her,” Spencer beamed, stroking your stomach where one of her feet had just pushed hard enough to show an imprint through your belly.
“It’s about time you carried her for once,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Oh believe me, you’ll have to fight me before I give up holding her.”
You had zero doubts about that.
•
Your due date was right around the corner when Spencer had to fly to Colorado for a case.
“You’re sure you’ll call me if anything happens, right?” Spencer asked for the third time.
“Spence, I’m sure,” you answered, “Besides my due date isn’t for 5 more days and my doctor said there’s a chance she might be a tad bit overdue.”
“Tell her daddy says to stay in there until I get back.”
“I will. But keep in mind, she’s as stubborn as you are.”
“Hey!” he exclaimed, feigning offense.
You laughed, “Go save a life. I’ll call you later. Love you.”
After you’d said your goodbyes, you resumed the cleaning you’d needed to finish up before baby got here.
You’d successfully washed and put away all her clothes, washed all the bottles and stored them in the cabinet along with the canisters of formula and set up her changing table with wipes and diapers.
Your hospital bag had been packed weeks ago and sat next to the door.
Now you just finished small things like washing dishes, folding laundry and vacuuming. Sweeping was definitely not an option since you couldn’t bend down for the dustpan. Oh, how you missed being able to bend down like a normal person.
It was around one in the afternoon when you decided to lay down because you had become exhausted and your back had begun to ache.
With a quick text to Spencer, you let him know you were napping in case you didn’t answer and he reminded you Garcia was on speed dial if you needed anything.
You fell into a restless sleep, waking about an hour later drenched in sweat, the ache now have migrated to the front of your body. You sat up to retrieve your phone so you could time the contractions, just to ensure they weren’t Braxton Hicks. That’s when you felt a gush of liquid between your legs, soaking your pants and the bed sheets.
Your thumb immediately hit the 1 on screen, dialing Penelope Garcia.
•
Spencer was standing in front of the geo map he’d been working on, studying it when his phone rang. He reached into his pocket, seeing it was Garcia and none the wiser thought she would be reporting more info on the current case.
“Hey Garcia.”
“Don’t freak out.”
His brows crinkled.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Y/N’s in labor.”
“What?!” His answer was so loud, it startled some officers nearby, “She’s not due for at least a week more!”
“Don’t tell me, tell your offspring,” Penelope retorted, “Cause she’s on her way.”
“Has her water broke? Are they sure it’s not just false labor?”
“Half an hour ago, they’re checking her now. I’m staying here until you get here obviously, but I’d hurry cause I feel like she’s gonna want you here to wring your neck when labor really starts.”
“Okay, I’ll catch the first flight I can and call you back when I get the flight info.”
He said a quick goodbye and rushed to Emily.
“Y/N’s gone into labor and I need to get the next flight out,” he told her, simultaneously looking up flight information out of Colorado on his phone.
“Spence.”
He was too busy searching to catch the worried tone in her voice. It wasn’t until he saw the numerous amounts of cancelled next to all flights that he looked up at her.
“Normally, I’d say go ahead and go. But I don’t think you’re going to get a flight anywhere in this weather.” She pointed to the window behind him.
He turned to see it snowing so hard he couldn’t see anything else but white.
“All flights have been grounded until the storm is over. We’re stuck here.”
“No,” Spencer muttered, starting to panic.
He paced back and forth, his frustration mounting. In one motion he swiped all of the papers off the desk in his irritation, his frustration and anger at the situation bubbling to the surface.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, sinking down in the chair at the table, his hands covering his face.
His hands pushed through his hair in exasperation, his curls falling back into place moments later.
He wasn’t going to make it there in time. He was going to miss it all.
The love of his life and the mother of his child was going to have to go through labor without him.
•
“What do you mean you’re not going to make it?!” Penelope shrieked.
“All flights are grounded for the next 48 hours until this damn snow storm is over,” Spencer said.
“And there’s no way you can make it back?”
“I’ve tried everything,” he said, sounding resigned.
“What am I supposed to tell her?”
“The truth. Garcia, you’re going to have to stay with her.”
“Me? I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies!”
“Garcia this is no time to be quoting Gone With The Wind!” Spencer exclaimed, exasperated.
“Sorry, it’s just, Spencer I don’t know what to do and she wants you!”
“Just be there, hold her hand, give her ice chips, encourage her. I’m not letting her be alone. Garcia, please,” he practically begged.
“Alright, alright. I’ll keep you updated. Garcia tech-analyst-turned-midwife out.”
-
You were laying in bed, covered in sweat from just making it through another contraction.
At your last check, you were only 4 centimeters dilated. You still had one more to go before you could get the epidural.
“This suuuuucks,” you moaned.
Your contractions were still at least 5 minutes apart, signaling you were still in the last stages of early labor, if not in early stages of active. All of that to mean the pain medication wasn’t coming until they got stronger and more frequent.
“And they said these are only the mild ones,” you groaned, looking over at Garcia who was grabbing your cup of ice.
She gave you another spoonful and put the cup back.
“You’re doing great though and the doctor said the epidural will help with most of the real intense contractions.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing Spencer isn’t here right now cause I feel like I could kill him,” you muttered.
You were devastated when Penelope told you he was stuck in Colorado. You hated that he was going to miss Arabella’s birth and you needed him here. But at the moment, you were exhausted, sweaty, in pain and very angry that Spencer had gotten you pregnant.
Of course, that was just the pain talking.
-
“I’m so sorry you got stuck with me,” you later panted, having worked your way through the previous contraction.
“Oh, sweetheart, no. I’m honored. You’ve been doing great,” she smiled, wiping your forehead, “Besides I’m thrilled to meet my goddaughter.”
You smiled weakly.
You were currently waiting for the anesthesiologist to set up the epidural. Your contractions had started amping up big time and were coming closer together. It had been several hours since you’d first been admitted to the hospital, the nightfall just outside your window indicating the late hour.
After being propped up against Penelope and neither of you looking at the needle that was inserted into your spine, the epidural was finally taking affect. The sweet sensation of numbness was a relief. You had gone from being in excruciating pain to feeling absolutely nothing and it allowed you to get some rest while your labor advanced.
A few cat naps later, Penelope had sent a selfie of the two of you to Spencer to let him know that you both were still alive and well; things were going smoothly.
You passed the time by watching tv, talking to Garcia and napping. It took hours for you to progress, but slowly, you did. It was nearing dawn the next morning when it was reported that you were 9 centimeters dilated. It was getting closer to time to meet yours and Spencer’s baby and you found yourself wishing again that he was here with you.
Things progressed fast and by 7 am you were pushing your baby girl out into the world. Penelope was holding your hand as you squeezed it, pushing with all your strength.
She, the nurses and the doctor kept hollering their encouragement as they told you to push and finally you heard the wonderful first cries of your baby.
You fell back against your pillow, exhausted, overwhelmed, but happy as she was placed on your chest. She was still covered in all the normal birthing elements, but she was beautiful, just like her name implied.
“Oh Y/N she’s beautiful,” Penelope gasped, in awe.
She’d followed the nurses when they’d taken Arabella to clean her off and measure her.
“Nice and healthy too. Almost nine pounds,” she smiled, “She’s going to be tall like her daddy.”
You smiled and watched as she took pictures of her to send to Spencer.
You reached your arms out and took her from the nurse once they’d swaddled her.
“Hello angel,” you whispered, “You just couldn’t wait until daddy got home, now could you?”
•
It had officially been almost an entire day since you’d had Arabella.
You’d just gotten her to sleep when you heard a commotion just outside of your hospital room. You heard a mixture of voices, but your heart leaped when you heard your boyfriend’s in the mix.
Footsteps got closer and you looked up as Spencer practically bounded in, a huge smile on his face. He dropped his go bag and satchel on the floor next to the door and walked over to your side.
“There’s my angel,” he said.
“Which one? Her or me?” you teased.
“Both of you.”
Spencer smiled running a hand over your still mess of hair and kissed your forehead.
“Look at her. You did amazing, Y/N.”
“Well you did kind of help,” you smirked.
“Okay, we did amazing.”
“Yes, we did,” you agreed, handing her to Spencer.
“Hi beautiful,” he crooned, stroking her cheek with his finger, “Daddy’s been waiting a long time to meet you.”
He sat in the chair beside you and snuggled her close. Arabella stretched a little in her sleep, opening her eyes when she heard his voice.
“Someone recognizes daddy’s voice,” you smiled.
“Well hello there Arabella. I heard you had quite the dramatic entrance.”
She cooed, eyes never leaving his face.
You watched the two of them, especially Spencer. He was so in love with her and you were so in love with him.
She yawned and gripped onto his finger.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking up at you now that she was contently cuddled in his arms.
“Tired and sore,” you chuckled, “But she was definitely worth it.”
“I’ll say, I mean look how cute our baby is.”
Spencer held one of her feet that had come out of the swaddle.
“Look at those tiny feet,” he baby-talked to Arabella, before kissing the bottom of it.
She pulled her foot away, beginning to get fussy.
“What’s the matter, Princess?” he frowned, covering her foot back up with the blanket.
“She’s tired and probably hungry. She’d barely gone to sleep before you got here.”
His eyes lit up.
“Can I feed her?”
“Go ahead,” you smiled.
You rang for the nurse and while she fetched a bottle, Arabella began to cry.
“I know, I know,” Spencer pouted, rocking her slightly, “A bottle’s coming, baby girl.”
The nurse returned with the bottle and Spencer took it, placing it gently in Arabella’s mouth. She started sucking greedily, her cries vanished.
You watched them with sleepy eyes, a smile on your face. Spencer looked up, noticing you drifting off.
“Hey, why don’t you rest and take a nap? I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
He leaned over, kissing you gently.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he looked down at Arabella, “Tell mommy we got this.”
She made small grunting noises as she ate and he chuckled.
“See? We’re good on our own.”
You didn’t argue. You knew you’d need your rest and better take it when you had the chance. You’d began drifting off when you heard Spencer’s words to Arabella.
“I love your mommy so much. Besides you, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
•
Spencer watched his daughter eat all of her bottle while he talked to her. She seemed to listen too, watching him the entire time.
“Just wait until auntie JJ meets you,” he said, “She might ever want to give you back. She’s never had a baby girl.”
He told her all about the rest of his teammates, talked to her about how he waited so long to meet her, he even told her how he and Y/N had met. He set the bottle aside when she was finished, laying her against his chest and on his shoulder to burp her, like he’d read about.
When she was settled, he laid her against his chest, rocking her just a bit. It wasn’t long until he fell asleep along with her.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when a nurse had woken him.
“I’m sorry Dr. Reid,” she apologized, “I was just making rounds and was checking in on the baby. Do you want me to take her and put her back in the bassinet to sleep?”
“No, I think I want to hold her a little while longer.”
She smiled and nodded before she left the room. He looked down to Arabella sleeping peacefully on his chest.
His mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that this tiny, perfect little human was his. He was filled with such love for her and Y/N.
He kissed her head gently.
“Not even a day old and you have me wrapped around your little finger.”
He got comfortable in the chair once again, falling back asleep with her in his arms.
Despite all the bad things he saw in his day to day work, good moments like this truly outweighed all the bad.
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(Un)planned (requested)
Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Pregnant!Reader
Genre: fluff, a lil crack-y
Word Count: 4.9k
As you walk out of the hospital you can’t help but to feel as if you’re in a dream, as if nothing is real. The only thing tying you to reality are the freshly printed documents verifying your pregnancy that feel unnaturally heavy in your purse. The reality of the situation was easier to accept than you expected, really. You have been married for a while and you can recall several instances in which you two hadn’t been exactly safe with your escapades. Being pregnant is not something that bothers you either—you have always wanted to have children at some point in your life. The only problem, the only thing keeping you from feeling properly excited by the news is the father of the child itself—Orihara Izaya. It is not something the two of you had ever discussed and, knowing first hand just how dangerous his field of work as one of Japan’s best information brokers...well, you aren’t sure if you two could create a healthy environment for a child to grow up in. Providing love and food on the table was one thing, providing safety and security was another.
At the thought of food your stomach involuntarily grumbles. You didn’t realize just how hungry you are until now. You hadn’t eaten all day, the nervousness about the doctor’s visit having ruined your appetite. It is by sheer coincidence that you notice a familiar face only a few meters ahead entering the infamous sushi bar. You follow after him without hesitation.
“Welcome to Russia Sushi,” Simon greets with a grin.
You smile in return before sidling into the booth next to the blond man you had followed in.
“Hi, Shizuo,” you greet shyly. The man nods in acknowledgement, already looking over the menu.“Y/n,” he returns coolly, “how have you been?” His gaze suddenly darkens as his grip on the laminated menu tightens and you can already tell what he’s about to ask next.
“Has...the flea been treating you well?”
You have no doubt one word of complaint about Izaya would have Shizuo tearing the city apart to kill him. Shizuo was one of the first people in Ikebukuro you had met who you could call a “friend.” Although he wasn’t the type to frequent brunch dates and sleepovers to watch anime and gossip, he always made sure to greet you with a small smile, regardless of how his day was going, and had promised to protect you if you ever needed it.
It was already several months into your friendship when you had started dating Izaya and at first Shizuo had...not been happy, to say the least. To the blond, Izaya was incapable of genuinely caring about anyone but himself. There was always an interior motive and the people around him would always be in danger. After several long, long months of persuasive speaking on your part (naturally Izaya just got a kick out of teasing the man about your relationship rather than seeking approval), an official marriage to the man, and Shizuo seeing you still remaining unharmed through it all, Shizuo finally seems to accept your relationship—or at least tolerate it. However, you know one bad word about Izaya and Shizuo would be ready to kick his ass to Hong Kong on your behalf.
‘I wonder what he’d think about me not telling Izaya about the pregnancy.’ You mentally sour at the thought and physically shake your head to get rid of it.
“He’s been an angel,” you joke. Shizuo scoffs and you end up giggling as well. Regardless of disagreeing on just how bad Izaya is, you both know he’s far from an angel.
He had always been more curved horns and pointy tail than halo and wings...but you love him all the same.
Before Shizuo can verbally respond (likely with an insult about ‘the flea’), Simon appears behind the bar before you two, ready to take your orders. As usual, Shizuo places his order first so that you have a little longer to decide.
“I’ll take the natto sushi—” you can’t help but to shiver in disgust at the sound. “—and today’s special.”
You perk up at that.
“Special?”
Simon grins at your interest.
“Yes, today’s special is yummy drink, tastes just like Russian seaweed farms! Special is very good.”
The idea of a Rusian seaweed farm drink is moderately concerning but between Simon’s excitement and Shizuo’s unbothered look you decide to order it against your better judgement, along with some fatty tuna.
Izaya must really be rubbing off on you.
You and Shizuo share a few minutes of idle talk while you wait for your orders. He tells you of the most ridiculous people he has had to collect debts or protect Tom Tanaka from this month and your laughter has you forgetting about all of your pregnancy worries. You’ve completely relaxed by the time drinks arrive and you take a sip without hesitation.
“Mmm,” your eyes widen as you regard Shizuo, “this is actually really good!”
Shizuo offers a rare boyish grin before he sips his own pale green drink, watching you go in for more.
“Right? You can hardly even tell there’s any vodka in it.”
‘Vodka!?’
You gasp, accidentally inhaling extra liquid before you begin spluttering in panic. Shizuo quickly jumps into action, harshly patting your back but careful not to use too much strength. Half of the restaurant is looking your way in concern and even Simon looks like he’s just about to catapult himself over the bar to help you when you finally calm down and your choking is reduced to harsh pants while you try to catch your breath. You think most of the drink had been expelled in your coughing fit but you still feel queasy and anxious. What if it hurts the baby?
“Y/n, are you okay?’ Shizuo asks, hand awkwardly rubbing your back in an attempt to be comforting. “Are you allergic or something.”
“N-no, it’s not that I’m allergic but...I can’t have alcohol for a while.”
Shizuo raises a brow at that and you feel grateful that everyone seems to have returned to their own work by now, no longer staring at you. Simon has left the bar to attend to a customer in one of the private dining rooms, leaving you and Shizuo essentially alone in your corner of the sushi restaurant.
“Why can’t you have alcohol for a while? You used to love sake.”
He sends a teasing smirk with the last part, referring to an embarrassingly drunken moment you’d had a few weeks into living in the city. Shizuo had sworn to never bring it up again but clearly he paid that particular oath no mind.
“Well, um…”
You begin to fidget nervously. Originally you had no intentions of telling anyone about the baby but...Shizuo was a good friend, maybe your closest friend in Ikebukuro aside from Celty. You have no doubts he would be nothing but supportive and kind to you in a time when you need it most—that is, after he gets over the idea of another person sharing Izaya’s DNA being brought into the world, of course.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone—not even Izaya. Especially not Izaya.”
Shizuo perks up at that, seeming interested in the prospect of you having something not even Izaya, your husband and the greatest information broker in all of Japan, knows about. Perhaps a small part of him would even relish in having something to keep from Izaya, some sort of “one-up” on the man.
“Of course,” he replies immediately, nodding.
You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.
“I’m pregnant.”
Everything seems to pause at your confession. Shizuo sits stock still and as the silence stretches on you begin to fear he didn’t hear and you’ll have to repeat it. However, before you can open your mouth to repeat those incriminating words, you’re startled by a sharp snap and look down to find the wooden chopsticks in Shizuo’s right hand broken in half. You trust him and know he would never hurt you but your heart rate still spikes and you tense in your seat, hand subconsciously resting over your stomach protectively. Shizuo's wide eyes follow the movement.
“Y-you're…" He finally stutters out. "...whose is it?"
You gawk, suddenly offended.
"Wh-who!? It’s Izaya's, you dumbass, who else!"
"I didn't want to make any assumptions!"
Your anger quickly dissolves into giggles at Shizuo's panicked expression and he visibly relaxes at the sound. There are a few moments of moderately comfortable silence between the two of you before Shizuo sighs and speaks again.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you've been married for a while now." His expression sours once he mentions marriage and you can tell he's internally reliving some of his worst encounters with your husband.
"I just can't believe there's going to be two of them now," he pouts. "That annoying piece of—"
"Hey," you interrupt, a teasing smirk on your face. "That's my baby daddy you're talking about."
Shizuo’s pales, looking like he'll throw up in disgust at any moment and you can't help but to laugh.
Maybe this whole pregnancy thing isn’t so bad.
. . .
You had been wrong—very wrong.
After your impromptu lunch with Shizuo, as you were walking out with your extra bag of fatty tuna to-go, it suddenly hit that you were about to go to the home you shared with Orihara Izaya pregnant with the unplanned child he knows nothing about. You nearly had a panic attack several times on the walk there as you mentally played through a multitude of scenarios of how to tell him and what his reaction might be. Izaya is involved in dangerous, illegal work—you can’t imagine a family and kids fits anywhere in that. You were lucky enough to have been asked to marry the man—there’s no way he would be ready for children as well.
‘Would he tell me to get rid of it?’
You had worked yourself so much on the way that by the time you arrived to the apartment you were mentally exhausted and barely managed to place the sushi in the fridge before you collapsed on the couch and turned on the television to zone out until Izaya came home.
A few hours later a sound at the front door jolted you to attention.
“I’m home~!” a man’s voice cheerfully booms from the entrance.
You silently pray to every god in existence that you can pull an Oscar-worthy act before plastering a smile on your face and standing to greet your husband.
“Welcome home, Izaya! I bought fatty tuna, it’s in the fridge.”
Izaya’s vermillion eyes seem to sparkle at that and he immediately makes his way to the kitchen after shedding his trademark faux fur-trimmed coat. That buys you enough time to contemplate your next course of action and how you will break the news to him. You know that, despite the fact he enjoys games and toying with others for as long as he deems entertaining, he expects direct answers from the people who work for him like Namie or Celty. But how could you possibly just outright say you’re pregnant right now? The man is humming to himself while stuffing his face with sushi right now for god’s sake—the mood is totally off!
“—Y/n?”
Your own name startles you out of your thoughts and as you blink to tune back into the outside world you find Izaya learning against the counter directly across from you, eying you with mirth as he holds the plastic container of sushi, nearly half empty by now.
“My, my. Someone seems a bit distracted today,” he taunts lowly. You tense at that, fearing he’s about to ask you what you’re thinking about.
Luckily, he seems to be feeling merciful today as he simply repeats what he was saying while you were zoned out, his tone back to almost childish glee.
“I was saying I met with Goto-chan today—y’know the one who was on ‘vacation’ for while—” he uses air quotes with the free hand not holding up the sushi and you can’t help but to smile at that, unhealthily endeared by this odd, dangerous man.
“—well turns out he has a kid now. He even brought her to our meeting with his gang; what terrible parenting~! Right, Y/n-chan?”
You gulp before barely managing a nod of agreement, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.
“I would never take my own young offspring to a place like that. Sometimes meetings end very badly, y’know~,” he continues on. You’re suddenly aware of the sweat collecting at your brow despite the moderate temperature in the apartment and you wonder if the panic is showing on your face.
‘He...he doesn’t know anything yet...right?’
There’s a beat of silence in which you two just stare at each other. Your face feels clammy and hot but you try your best to maintain a neutral expression while Izaya’s lips are curved into their usual smirk with a playful glint in his deep red eyes—along with something else you can’t quite read but somehow evokes a ball of dread to form deep within your gut.
A few seconds later and the moment is gone as Izaya turns away to dispose of the empty sushi contained and is rambling on about something else you don’t have the energy to even pretend to listen to as relief washes over your body.
The rest of the night is spent curled up on the couch watching cartoons while Izaya works, not bringing up the topic of children again for the rest of the night. You decide waiting a little longer to tell him wouldn’t hurt—you just need some time to gather your thoughts and plan exactly how to tell him.
. . .
Somehow “a little longer” becomes “a lot longer” as every time you approach Izaya with a speech already planned, you look into his eyes and immediately chicken out. To make matters worse, you aren’t sure if you’re just being hyper-aware of all things related to children now or if the whole world is really out to get you but it seems babies are everywhere. A few days after that night you turned on the TV to watch something with Izaya only to find a pregnancy documentary of all things on which Izaya insisted you two watch because he wanted to “learn more about the development of his precious humans.” Another few days after that the two of you were on a rare evening walk together when a small, crying child approached the two of you claiming to have lost his mother while chasing a dog. Izaya unexpectedly took over the situation and handled it exceptionally well, diligently looking for the boy’s mother with you while keeping him entertained to the point he didn’t even want to say goodbye to Izaya when you two finally found his mother.
External factors like that made things a little more difficult for you as you attempted not to let your secret slip out but other factors were a lot more difficult to hide—such as your slowly but steadily growing belly and strange new mood swings. The former was easily remedied by electing to wear your looser more comfortable clothing. Izaya had never been a physically affectionate partner so you didn’t have to worry about him noticing your stomach in a hug or anything like that and he never pushed when you turned down his occasional sexual advances at night citing that you were too tired or had a stomach ache. Your mood swings and other hormonal changes, however, were not so avoidable.
The first time you had raised your voice at him—and over something so small as coming home half an hour later than he said he would—came as a surprise to both of you. After a moment of wide eyed staring from both sides he seemed to recover quickly though and teased you about missing him too much. A few times you had also spontaneously burst into tears for no apparent reason, to which he simply pulled you into his side and started telling you a random funny story about his adventures at work until your tears stopped.
But even with Izaya being so unintentionally helpful in keeping your secret, the pressure and guilt of constantly lying to your own husband and the man famed for knowing everything gradually eats at you day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and minute-by-minute until you are constantly seeking a relief from the stress. Sometimes that comes in form of finishing a whole box of chocolates, sometimes via napping for six hours straight, and sometimes through social media and chatrooms.
One Thursday afternoon you log in to the chat for the first time since finding out you’re pregnant, pleasantly surprised to see your two favorite members already online.
▶▶ [USER01] has entered the chat.
[Tarō Tanaka] Hello, User-san. Long time no see.
[Setton] we missed u User-chan.
You smile, instantly feeling better with the online presence of your friends.
[USER01] hey, guys. whats up?
[Setton] Tanaka-san was just talking about volunteering at the daycare.
[Tarō Tanaka] Ah, I just had some freetime…
[Setton] don’t be modest. ur really amazing Tanaka-san.
[Tarō Tanaka] Ahaha, really it’s nothing! I just played with some babies for a few hours...
[Setton] nonsense. don’t u think Tanaka-san is cool, User-chan?
You take a second too long to answer, suddenly feeling anxious by the reminder of daycares and babies. You wonder if you and Izaya will leave your own child at a daycare some day...if he even accepts the child.
[USER01] ah, yeah..very cool
[Tarō Tanaka] User-san are you alright? You seem a little off today, you’re usually more talkative...
[Setton] u know u can tell us anything. we’re friends.
You hesitate to type, your trembling hands hovering over the keyboard as you consider your options. On one hand, you feel guilty at the prospect of telling more people who are not your husband before actually telling Izaya himself. As the father, regardless of his reaction, he deserved to be the first to know. On the other hand, keeping these overwhelming feelings to yourself makes you feel as if you’ll burst at the seams. So much stress can’t be good for the baby.
[USER01] well, to be honest I’m….
▶▶ [Kanra] has entered the chat.
[Kanra] Yahoo~! (≧∇≦)/
[Kanra] What is everyone talking about today?? owo
[USER01] nothing much!! just the weather..it has been so hot lately!
[Tarō Tanaka] But it’s September…
[Setton] ???
[Setton] ah yeah, nothing much i guess...how are u Kanra?
[Kanra] Ehh~ What’s with this weird atmosphere!? I feel like everyone is keeping secrets from Kanra-chan! (●´^｀●)
[USER01] no way!! not at all! ah, its already this late? I have to get dinner soon, bye-bye!!
[Tarō Tanaka] It’s only 2 o’clock though...
▶▶ [USER01] has left the chat.
Your laptop closes with a resounding tap and you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Izaya seems to have impeccably awful timing. You hate to think you were moments away from confessing your secret right in front of him and two mutual friends in a public chat room. You’re fairly certain that must be among the top ten worst ways to announce a pregnancy.
Frazzled, you head to the kitchen to make a snack.
After shuffling through the refrigerator for a few minutes, pushing aside suddenly unappetizing leftovers of Chinese take-out and pizza, you settle on sliced pineapple, kimchi, and a pack of microwaveable rice from the cabinet. Even you knew the combination was abhorrent in normal circumstances, but for the past few weeks you found yourself craving obscure combinations of food from ice cream drizzled with honey mustard to canned tuna and chocolate.
You are only a few bites in when you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening and your husband announcing his arrival. The lanky man immediately slips into the kitchen to greet you with a small peck on the top of your head.
“I see my favorite little human is enjoying one of her...creations again,” Izaya comments.
When you look up you catch the split second of disgust on his features as he eyes your bowl before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. You almost laugh.
“Do you want me to make you some?” You can’t help but to tease, trying your best to feign a serious expression as you ask.
Izaya looks mildly horrified before playing it off with a dismissive laugh.
“No thanks, I already ate.”
He gracefully breezes past you to make his way through the living room and to his personal office in the back where he make quick work of logging into his desktop. It is a usual occurrence—despite being home his work is never truly finished. He has to be flexible in his field, ready to gather new intel the moment it becomes available. It is strange to compare Izaya to anyone with a regular job but you often find yourself thinking he must really love his career if he invests so much of himself into it. You’re sure that by now he has done enough odd jobs to no longer need the money to live the rest of his life worry-free and yet he continues to work relentlessly, never taking a vacation day once in the years you’ve known him.
“By the way,” Izaya calls out, interrupting your thoughts.
“I have some things to take care of in Ōsaka this weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”
He glances up from his computer to send you a teasing smirk.
“Try not to get too lonely without me~”
You nearly choke on a piece of pineapple as you fluster, immediately denying his claim despite his obnoxious laughter drowning out your protests.
It is not until you lie in bed that night, trying to fall asleep, that you recognize this could be the moment you’ve been waiting for.
. . .
The next morning, after seeing Izaya off for the weekend, you grab your laptop and log into your nearly forgotten Pinterest account to look for cute pregnancy announcement ideas. With Izaya physically out of the house for more than 24 hours you feel the pressure of constantly hiding all clues lifted off your shoulders and you feel free to properly put something together that you hope will result in a more positive reaction from him than just blurting it out of the blue. You have to periodically remind yourself that this is his child as much as it is yours and he is just as responsible for creating it so that you don’t psych yourself out imagining him blaming you for potentially ruining his life.
A majority of the pins you scroll through are immediate no’s. They’re either way too corny or tacky and you highly doubt Izaya would appreciate the humor in a “thx for knocking me up!” sticker.
...Okay well maybe he would but you certainly wouldn’t.
By the twelfth page you feel exasperated. You’re almost tempted to just send him an “I’m pregnant” text right now to get it over with—at least you won’t be there to see his expression in realtime. That’s when you stumble upon the pin. You immediately click the little square before it loads into an image that takes up your full screen. On the image is a white marble background, likely a kitchen countertop, with a round white cake in the center with the words “we’re having a baby!” sprawled on top in purple icing.
It is simple, to the point, cute, and most importantly—cake.
Who doesn’t love cake?
‘Well, Izaya doesn’t really like sweet things that much…’
You mentally tell your self-conscious to shut up. A cake would be perfect.
With your mind made up, slam your laptop shut and get dressed to go to your nearest bakery and place your order.
. . .
On Sunday afternoon you pick up your cake from the bakery, only mildly embarrassed by the amount of times the owner bids you a “congratulations” and “your husband is lucky man!” When you make it back to the apartment and open up the blue pastry box on the counter everything suddenly feels very real. The cake itself is perfect—exactly like the picture you saw that day on Pinterest. A white buttercream base with beautiful purple letters spelling out “we’re having a baby!” in cursive. There are even small yellow flowers surrounding the edges, as suggested by the shop owner.
It looks absolutely delicious but you feel like you’re going to throw up.
According to Izaya’s text that morning he’ll be back within three hours from now and that’s when you’ll have to wordlessly hand him this cake and watch as his expression morphs into something you’ve likely never seen before.
‘What if he just abandons us?’
Your right hand unconsciously wraps over the now noticeable little bulge on your stomach. It’s too late to have second-thoughts, you reason with yourself, the longer you draw this out the worse it will be. You decide a quick nap would do some good to ease your nerves. You’ll set your alarm for half an hour from now then clean the apartment and put on some soothing cartoons until Izaya gets home. After gingerly placing the cake box in the refrigerator you shuffle up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re unconscious almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.
. . .
When you peel your eyelids open you find yourself feeling more calm than you remember feeling after a nap. You stretch each of your limbs and wriggle your toes as you allow your foggy brain to properly wake up.The rays of light streaming through the blinds seem to radiate a comforting warmth to fight of the chill of the bedroom.
‘Wait...light!?’
A rush of panic overtakes your system and you scramble to find your phone on the bedside table, nearly screaming when you read the blaring white digits on the screen.
9:07AM
You didn’t just take a nap, you slept through the night.
Your head whips around to find the other side of the bed neatly made, just as it was when you climbed in bed yesterday. Maybe you still had a chance—maybe some unforeseen thing happened and Izaya had to spend an extra night in Ōsaka. You nearly trip and faceplant several times in your haste to rush downstairs and into the kitchen where you’d hid the cake.
Placing the cold box on the counter, your hands tremble lightly as they slowly lift the lid.
You heart skips a beat.
One perfectly sized slice was missing, leaving only a few crumbs in its wake.
You don’t even have time to have a proper mental breakdown before a door slams shut.
“Ah, I see you’re finally awake~!”
Almost in slow motion your eyes slide from the cake to the tall black haired man holding a bag of what some distant part of your brain recognizes as breakfast from your favorite café. Izaya looks unbothered, irritatingly so, as if he had no idea of the inner turmoil you are currently experiencing.
“You must have been exhausted—you didn’t even stir when I came in last night.”
He has the audacity to exaggerate a pout as he whines, “it made me feel unwelcome, y’know~”
“Th-the...cake...” you barely manage to stutter out, struggling to make sense of the current situation.
“Hmm?” he hums, the smirk of his lips making it apparent he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
“Ah, yes, thank you for the treat~ I don't usually like sweets but this one was surprisingly delicious~!”
He begins to casually place his bags on the counter across from you and pull out the breakfast items, explaining nothing more and even humming a bit to himself as he works to sort the food.
God you want to punch him.
You swallow thickly to steady yourself before trying again.
“S-so what do you think about...it” you ask, awkwardly gesturing to your stomach..
"Hmm? Ah, the vanilla was good but there was a little too much icing—"
"NO DUMBASS, I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE BABY!” You finally snap, face bright red in anger.
Izaya only guffaws, laughing as if you had just cracked the joke of the century. You’re only split seconds from throwing the whole cake at him when his laughter finally dies down and he slides around the counter and to your side. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands gently resting on either side of your belly and you feel your heart flutter unexpectedly at the tenderness of the action.
“You’re so cute when you think you’re hiding something from me.”
Your breath hitches.
“Wh-what? What do you mean by that—” you desperately attempt to turn to face him but his hold keeps you firmly in place.
“I’ve known since day one~” he sing-songs, sounding annoyingly proud of himself. “I’m surprised you finally decided to tell me though. I was starting to think you’d wait until you went into labor and needed a ride to the hospital,” Izaya jokes.
“No way,” you protest, “that’s literally impossible—there’s no way you could have known already.”
He moves one arm from your body to swipe at some frosting on the forgotten cake, bringing it over to your lips in an offering you accept without thinking, taste buds tingling at the sweetness.
“Silly Y/n—I’m an expert at planning, y’know? All those times we ‘forgot’ to use protection weren’t an accident~”
Your whole body seems to erupt in flames as a blush takes over your face. This time, you really do hit him.
“I-idiot!!”
#durarara#orihara izaya#izaya x reader#reader insert#durarara fic#drrr x reader#durarara scenario#durarara imagine#izaya imagine#izaya fic#unplanned
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Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision
The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero
GALLERY LINKS
Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002
Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia
GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.
On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.
Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.
Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)
Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”
In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”
“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.
Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.
Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)
Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.
The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.
For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.
“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.
At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.
Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.
“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.
Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”
“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”
“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”
“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”
That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”
She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)
We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.
“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”
Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.
Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.
Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.
Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.
Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.
Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen
#Elizabeth Olsen#WandaVision#Avengers#Scarlet Witch#Wanda Maximoff#Sorry For Your Loss#Avengers Infinity War#Avengers Age of Ultron#Captain America Civil War#Ingrid Goes West#Godzilla
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He Ruined My Sister's Only Birth Experience So I Made Sure He'd NEVER Forget Her
Kinda my revenge, kinda my sisters, both of us really proud. This is gonna be long so TL;DR at bottom. Here's our cast:
My sister - we'll call her "Sara" for the story Sister's Ex-BF - "Paul" Ex-BFs New Wife - "Jane" Ex-BFs Parents - "Mr. And Mrs. Doe" Oldest brother - "Zeke" Our parents And Me :)
When I was 14 and my oldest sister, Sara, was 22 we found out that she was pregnant with Paul, her boyfriend of 4 years. They immediately got engaged and they were really happy. For a time. Sara had a horrible pregnancy, about 16-18 weeks in the "wonder of creating a human life" evaporated within her. She developed hyperemesis (which if you don't know is really bad morning sickness), she was constantly in pain, she developed gestational diabetes, and just all around hated the experience. Around this time Paul, the then-fiance, started getting sick of the complaining. I believe the argument was "your body is built to do this, it can't be that bad".
Sara was due around Valentine's Day and Paul's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Doe, were very excited, both about the grandkid and the fact that he could be born on a holiday. She was very against that and really really hoped that her son wouldn't be born on a holiday, even one as small as Valentine's day (her birthday sometimes falls on Easter and she hates it) because it might make him feel that "his day" isn't very much about him. Well, Mrs. Doe says something like "Well if you name him Valentine or Valentino then that'll make the day even more special to him!" Again, sister HATED the idea. She thought it was tacky, he'd be bullied for it, and just really didn't like the name Valentino. Paul loved it, but agreed to go with a more average name like Daniel or Jared.
Fast forward to February and she was ready to Get This Over With. Sara had officially been put on bed rest because while standing or walking her blood pressure took unexpected spikes and dips. I look back now and goodness do I feel bad for her. She was doing her best to avoid giving birth on Valentine's day because, again, she didn't want him born on a holiday. Unfortunately, births happen when they happen and that baby was going to come on Valentines day whether she wanted him to or not.
I remember waiting out in the waiting room with my dad, brothers, and Paul who couldn't stand to be in the delivery room because it was "gross". I was so mad that he could have gone in but wouldn't because he thought my sister was "gross" while giving birth, whereas I had to stay outside because I was "too young" to go in with my mom and other sister. Dad went home with the youngest two brothers while the oldest, Zeke, stayed to watch me because I refused to leave. 16 hours after Sara went into labor my little nephew was officially part of the family on the evening of Valentine's day.
Unfortunately, Sara was not okay. She had to have an emergency cesarean section and while doing the operation discovered that the back of her uterus (facing her spinal cord) had a very large and very severe (thankfully non-cancerous) tumor. When I say large I mean it was twice the size of a standard uterus. The doctors were shocked and didn't understand why nobody had noticed it on an ultrasound. It accounted for her severe backpain and blood pressure issues. The doctors immediately went in for more surgery to remove the tumor, but sadly ended up having to perform a full hysterectomy. This meant that my nephew would be Sara's only child.
Now while Sara was in for surgery Paul was taking care of everything baby related to make sure his son was okay. In my 14 year old self's memory I remember him being suitably distraught, but I didn't really pay him much mind and spent my time in the waiting room with my mother and other sister. Zeke, however, wanted to be a good future brother-in-law and make sure that Paul was okay. He found Paul filling out the baby paperwork on his own looking (in my brother's words) "like he had not a single worry in his mind". Zeke asked why Paul didn't wait for Sara to fill out the paperwork as she should have been put of surgery within the hour, and Paul said that he just wanted her to get her rest and heal. That checked out with Zeke, as he was 16 and didn't know any better at the time.
Now I know what you're probably thinking. "No, he wouldn't. He knows how much she hates that name. And still, she'd need to sign the paperwork too!" My fellow peoples of Reddit, I regret to inform you that Paul forged Sara's signature on the paperwork and waited until she was out of surgery to hand said paperwork over. My sweet nephew, that was born on Valentine's day, was named "Valentino" on his first official birth certificate. I still to this day don't know why Paul and his family were so insistent about the name. He had even picked out a different one with my sister! And before you ask, no he was never brought up on forgery charges because his parents were "witnesses" to her signing the papers, even though they only got there at the last minute.
So Sara dumped him and got her son's name changed a month later. She was willing to do split custody with him because that's her son's father and she wants the kid to know him, but Paul vanished and she never heard anything back, which seemed weirdly out of character to us. Until a mutual friend on Facebook was tagged in his wedding pictures 6 months later. Paul had apparently started cheating on her not long after she got pregnant. Sara was livid but there wasn't much she could do so she filed for child support and continued to liver her best life.
Until 6 years later. This is where the revenge starts, my friends. So Sara has been a single mother for the past 6 years and has been amazing at it. At this point in my career I've been a hairdresser for about 8 months at our local GreatClips. I'm working one day and who is seated before me but Jane, Paul's wife, herself. I take her back for a trim and she clearly has no idea who I am. That adds up because a mutual friend that still keeps in contact with Paul said that Jane doesn't know a thing. She has no idea about Sara, that she was the other woman, or that Paul actually has a kid that he's been (infrequently) paying child support for. She's in the dark on it all.
I told myself not to be an ass and treat her like a normal customer, which I did. Now at this point, Jane was heavily pregnant, so a lot of our conversation was about that. She loved being pregnant but it was hard, her husband was so unsympathetic (big shocker), and she was due in 10 weeks and they still hadn't picked out a name for their baby girl.
Ladies and gentlepeoples, this was my chance.
I asked what kind of name she was looking for and she said "I want something unique and unusual, but not ridiculous like Brayntleigheigh" (you know the ones I'm talking about) and Paul had suggested so many already and she didn't like ANY of them. So I, conniving little weasel I am, said "what about Sara?"
My sister's name isn't actually "Sara" she was named after an older family member that passed not long after she was born, but there was no female equivalent for his name so our parents created one. It's a beautiful name and just what Jane was looking for.
She loved it, she stuck by it, and I found out by stalking her Facebook months later that she had put her foot down about it and that was their daughter's name. Now Paul has a daughter with his ex's name to remind him every day about her (and to also remind him to pay his ******* child support).
Little nephew is 10 years old now with a new name and no contact with his biological father, though we do still sometimes call him Val as a family nickname. He likes it but doesn't want to bring it to school so it's staying a family nickname. Sara pretends to hate when we call him that, in a joking way. As long as he likes it she doesn't have a problem with it. And she's seeing a new guy who's really great and like a father to Val. :)
TL;DR: My sister's baby daddy forged her signature on paperwork while she was in surgery to name their son a name that she had been avidly against from the beginning, then broke all contact when she dumped him and married the girl he was cheating on her with while she was pregnant. 6 years later I meet his wife and convince her to name her daughter my sister's name because the wife has no idea my sister and her son exist.
(source) story by (/u/AngelGuideIndi)
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Jet Lagged (Lena Luthor x Reader)
Request: 53 (”it’s lonely here without you”) and 57 (”is that my shirt?”) with domestic fluffy Lena and reader. R is away somewhere for business and Lena is hit with the missing Reader hours. Lena face times or skypes R and they chat. Lovesick Lena, please. Maybe Reader finally comes back home and cue koala girlfriend Lena.
Fandom: Supergirl
Warning: The insinuation of smut, but nothing actually happens in this story.
Words: 1263
You’re awoken from your slumber by the oh-so-familiar melody of an incoming skype call. You lift your head and rub at your cheeks where you can feel the imprint left behind by your keyboard – you must have dozed off trying to get to the bottom of your insurmountable heap of work related e-mails again. You let out a frankly massive yawn, quickly check the time – it’s 4 am, who calls at 4am?! – and then let your gaze swerve to the notification at the bottom of your screen.
You and Lena have been together for almost two years now, and your heart still hasn’t stopped missing a beat whenever you see her, or even just her name on a little skype notification. You’re still as hopelessly in love as you were on your first date (and, to be honest, at least a year or so before that). Your exhaustion vanishes into thin air immediately as the familiar giddiness takes over. You accept the call.
“Lena, what are you doing up so late?” you start asking, and immediately feel stupid as you see the warm orange light of the sunset filter through her window, bathing your girlfriend in a warm glow. Oh right, time zones. They exist.
“I’m sorry darling, did I wake you?”, she asks, uncharacteristically bashful. You’re taken over by a desire to pull her into your arms and never ever let her go again so intense you actually fear you might start crying any second.
“Well, proven by the waffle-face I’ve got going on”, you joke, gesturing at the imprints you can still feel on the left side of your face, “I was having an impromptu nap on my lapto- hey, is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
You see just a hint of red appear on her cheeks, and you’re pretty sure it has nothing to do with the intense glow of National City dusk. You feel so privileged, getting to see this side of her – not that all of her sides aren’t beautiful, you love strict and sexy boardroom Lena just as much as genius scientist Lena, but this one, cosy evenings Lena, feels special somehow. Private. A side of Lena only you get to see.
“It still smells like you”, she confesses, toying with the buttons. “I just – I missed you so much, I had to see your face. I’ll let you get back to sleep now, I’m sorry for waking you up.”
You see her reach for the touchpad of her laptop, presumably to close the call, so you react quickly.
“No, baby, I missed you too. So much. Let’s stay up a bit longer.”
You see Lena’s hand hover over the touchpad indecisively for one or two seconds, before she retreats it and flashes you a brilliant smile. “But not too long, love.”
You lift your fist and extend a pinkie. “Not too long, pinkie promise.” The resulting giggle you manage to draw out of her instantly becomes your favourite sound in the whole world.
“You’re such a child”, she laughs, shaking her head.
“But you miss me.”
“Terribly. It’s lonely here without you. Kara is trying so hard to cheer me up, but National City just isn’t the same when you’re not here.”
You immediately get what she’s talking about – as excited as you were for the opportunity to work in London for a few weeks, the city quickly lost its appeal after it became clear that Lena wouldn’t be able to accompany you. “Only two more weeks left, baby, and then I’ll come home to you. I can’t wait until I get to kiss you again.”
Her eyes brighten at the thought, a mischievous mirth crossing her features. “I can’t say I haven’t missed that as well, love”, she purrs, her voice dropping an octave deeper in a way that immediately raises your pulse.
“Behave”, you chuckle. “Don’t start anything you’re not prepared to finish.”
“You should really get some sleep”, she says. “Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor of medicine.”
“Yet”, she challenges playfully. “No more changing the topic. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
Catching your reflection in the webcam just as you try to stifle a yawn, you have to agree with her.
“Good night, darling. Sweet dreams.” She blows you a kiss. You pretend to catch it in your palm and press it against your heart.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.”
You honestly want to stay up talking to her, like a lovesick teenager on a school night, but your common sense tells you otherwise. Only two more weeks, you remind yourself. I can do this.
You know your girlfriend usually hates surprises, but when given the opportunity to take an earlier plane home and arrive about 5 hours earlier in National City than originally planned, well…let’s just say the decision process wasn’t very long. Despite the jet lag you find it impossible to sit still in the back seat of the uber, so you shift in your seat with all your pent up energy, pointedly ignoring the worried looks the driver shoots you every now and then. You tip him generously as you almost stumble over your feet in your hurry to get back to your girlfriend.
You startle Frank, Lena’s night shift security guard, who’s guilty expression immediately tells you he’s been using the computer for minesweeper again.
“Oh, Miss (Y/L/N), I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow!”
“Me neither, Frank, it came as a surprise to all of us.”
“Well, Miss (Y/L/N), I’d bet my last dollar that it’s going to be a very welcome surprise for Miss Luthor”, he winks.
You spend the elevator ride nervously pulling and prodding at your clothes, your efforts of looking halfway presentable for your girlfriend go out the window when you discover the coffee stain under your collar – that’s what you get for trying to enjoy a coffee on the plane. You ring the doorbell.
“Who’s there?” Lena sounds wary. No wonder, you think, nothing good has ever come of unannounced guests after midnight. Well, nothing good except you, you hope.
“Surprise?”, you say, and that’s about as far as you get before the door is flung open and you find yourself wrapped into a full-on koala hug by your girlfriend.
“I take it you’re glad I’m home?”, you giggle and press a kiss against her temple. Lena pulls back just enough to take your face in her hands, caressing it as though she was making sure you were really here. Her smile is wide, genuine, sweet. “You have no idea, darling”, she murmurs, before pulling you into a deep kiss.
You barely manage to maneuver the two of you back into the apartment, it’s hard to make your form coherent thoughts when Lena has one hand in your hair, pulling teasingly, and the other at your hip, pressing you into her. When you finally break apart, you’re both out of breath.
“I can’t believe you’re really here. I’ve waited so long for this”, Lena breathes, her hands moving to unbutton your shirt.
You try to reply, but instead a gigantic yawn forces its way past your lips. “I have the mother of all jet lags”, you admit sheepishly. “Honestly, I just need to get these shoes off and sleep for a week. Now don’t pout”, you say, quickly pressing a kiss to her ruby red lips, “and come cuddle instead.”
You don’t have to tell her twice.
“I missed this more than anything”, you hear her mumble against your collarbone, before blissful sleep finally takes you.
#lena luthor x reader#lena luthor imagine#supergirl imagine#supergirl#lena luthor#wlw imagine#wlw fanfiction#reader insert#wlw reader
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US - For Want of Love
Summary: When Sans heard that he was going to be a big brother, he was absolutely thrilled. Of course, that was before the new sibling stole everyone's attention and affection from him.
When Sans had first been informed that he was going to be a big brother, he was nothing short of thrilled. With another child in the lab, all of the adults would realize just how mature and helpful Sans could be.
No longer would he be the one told that he was “too little” for important jobs! At long last he would be the one to fetch Gaster’s steaming, sweet-smelling drinks, without being babied and told that he could have burned himself. He would be the one to stay up late, get more sweets, grow into cool new clothes—and naturally his new sibling would have no choice but to admire him for all the things he could teach them! He had so many secrets to share about the world.
They would be a sort of…personal assistant, he decided, to prove how cool and independent he could be. With the new arrival being small and silly and inexperienced, Sans could win the trust, thanks, praise and affection he deserved. Not to mention that with them around, he would have someone to play with when the adults were too busy with boring science things.
Of course, that was before Sans had realized that his new sibling was one of their boring science things. The day that his dad had given him permission to see the little one, he had practically flown into the lab, eager to introduce himself as the more magnificent sibling who would show them how it was done.
It was rather anticlimactic to introduce oneself to a squishy, discolored cluster of half-formed bones floating in a tube.
Was that really what Sans had looked like once? He was forced to fight off an uncertain scowl at the thought. Given that he couldn’t remember ever looking this gross and helpless, he could only conclude that he had come into the world with all the necessary components right away, walking and talking and—well, actually having a proper face. His sibling was the anomalous one. Even its soul looked odd, nothing but a fist-sized lump that shimmered weakly amidst the bubbles.
Everything changed when he reached out to knock on the glass. Before his knuckles could make contact, a sharp smack to the dorsum swatted him away.
“Did I give you permission to touch?” Gaster reproached. “Look with your eye sockets, not your hands.”
“Ow, Papa!” Sans protested, more startled and offended than hurt as he clutched his hand protectively to his chest.
“Don’t disturb the maturation chamber.”
That would only be the first of the many scoldings he received in the coming days, not just from his father but from the other adults Sans had once assumed to be his friends. His plan of becoming the one they could rely upon was backfiring splendidly; no matter how he tried to offer his help, it went wrong.
“Sans, we can’t get this done with you underfoot.”
“Please, go play somewhere else.”
“Sans, we really don’t have the time.”
“Hey, put that down! It isn’t a toy!”
“Not now, Sans, we’re very busy.”
“Ask someone else.”
“Quiet down!”
“Don’t you have other ways to occupy yourself?”
“Shut the door behind you!”
It would have been hurtful enough if that was all they said, but whenever he managed to duck into the lab unnoticed or he got scooted to the corner out of their way, he couldn’t help but overhear all of the remarks they made about his new sibling. “Fascinating,” they called it. “Intriguing. A breakthrough, a wonder of science.”
How could it be? Sans wondered irritably as he was steered out of the lab yet again. The lump of bone in the chamber didn’t even do anything special! A few days ago, the only will it could muster was to twitch a few malformed fingers and all of the doctors rushed about making notes and breathing sighs of delight and relief. Some of them had even applauded the little thing and it didn’t even have a full mouth to smile or thank them.
Whatever happened to the days when Sans would get a pat on the skull for pushing the door open on his own, or the times the lab assistants would cup his cheekbones and coo over his starry eyes and sparkling smile? He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had smiled back. These days they were all stressed and skittish and snappish with him and even with each other from time to time, but they treated his sibling as if it was spun from glass.
In his free time (which he had quite a lot of, now that nobody wanted to acknowledge his existence) Sans had taught himself how to perform a cartwheel. It was much more impressive than whatever the lump was doing, he fumed as he thumped his forehead against the empty breakroom’s observation window.
Maybe he wouldn’t tell any of them that he’d learned—not even Gaster. Maybe he would keep it to himself until he could do two or three cartwheels in a row so that when he eventually demonstrated, they would see how much of his coolness they had missed out on.
His eyelights burned faintly at the notion that followed. Maybe they still wouldn’t care, even if he did tell them. There was no telling when they would have time for him again.
The lump had even taken bedtimes from him. Sans had gotten to stay up later, just as he’d wished, but in his soul he knew it was only because Gaster had forgotten that he needed to be put to bed. One night he had peeked into the lab once to see his father slumped over in front of his sibling’s chamber, skull bowed wearily against folded hands.
Sans couldn’t quite tell if he was asleep or simply thinking so he had crept in quietly, hoping to request a proper tucking in and a bedtime story.
Stumbling in the darkness and knocking over a pile of folders on the nearby chair was a sorry way to get his attention. Gaster had startled and lunged out of his chair in an instant, eyelights flaring.
“Sans! What are you doing in here? You—Oh, now look what you’ve done! Those took us weeks to chart and file and you’ve—”
“I-It was an accident! I’m sorry, Papa, I just—I wanted—” he stammered, huddling down to scoop up the nearest fallen papers. Gaster had sighed harshly as he approached, kneeling across from him.
“Never mind, never mind. I’ll take care of this,” he groused, a trifle less sharply, but Sans could still see the frustration lurking under his dark-rimmed sockets. “It’s late, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I just…” Sans had gulped as he watched him. Gaster’s attention wasn’t on him; he was peering down at the scattered notes, muttering to himself. Shoulders slumping, Sans had crept away and let him be. All he cared about was clearing away the mess.
If Sans had nightmares that night, he would never admit it. Gaster hadn’t been at breakfast to inquire of him anyway.
With an exasperated whine Sans thumped his fists against the window for good measure, earning a few pointed glances from the scientists within who were distracted by the noise.
That didn’t matter. What mattered was the chamber where his sibling sat in the spotlight and did nothing exciting. It was a little bigger now but the more it grew, the uglier it seemed. Couldn’t they see how wrong it looked, limp and reedy and angular? Its soul still hadn’t changed a bit, a misshapen, twisted flicker of fragile light with half a dozen tubes latched onto it. Why the tubes were there, Sans didn’t know, but they didn’t make it any more flattering.
Jaw set, Sans glowered at it, hoping it could sense it through the glass.
“You’re stupid,” he muttered. “You’re stupid and horrible and I don’t want you anymore. It’s your fault everyone’s been so mean to me. Why can’t you just go away so everything can be how it was before?”
______________________________________
His sibling was sick.
His sibling was very, very sick.
His sibling was…
Sans had startled out of a fitful sleep to the distant sound of alarms ringing and his father’s booming voice. When he scurried from his room and to the lab entryway to find out what the problem was, he had discovered them all clustered around the chamber—the normal state of affairs these days, he mused with a fleeting huff—but the frantic flurry of snatching hands and scrambling feet was unusual. Once he registered the bare, open panic on his father’s haggard face, he knew something was truly wrong.
“Papa?” he called out fearfully as he gripped the doorframe, going unheard as one of the assistants piped up urgently:
“0.9 percent, sir!”
Gaster spat a curse that made Sans flinch in disbelief, but he didn’t have time to vie for his attention again. Another alarm began to wail as the bones in the chamber began to lurch and judder to and fro. It was the most Sans had ever seen them move, but nobody was applauding anymore. It seemed to strike the fear of stars into them; everyone began hollering over each other.
Beyond the blaring of the monitors, it was hard to make out everything they were saying, and even then most of it was scientific chatter that he couldn’t understand. All he heard were snatches of “integrity,” “HP” and “still dropping.” When strung together, that alone was more than enough to make his eye sockets go empty and his knees fall weak.
“Sans? Kid, you can’t be in here! You gotta stay back while we get him stabilized!” someone had commanded as they barged past him, shoving him away with a weighty hand. “Don’t look! You don’t need to see this!”
The door slammed, muffling the chaos within, but it didn’t matter now. What he had seen and heard already was enough. Trembling, Sans backed away until he hit another wall, his head reeling. He knew what HP was; it kept monsters alive. It spurred on the beat that he felt under his soft nightshirt right now, drumming faster and faster.
If his sibling’s HP was “dropping,” wouldn’t that mean…?
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.
On legs that would barely support him, he made his way back to the window, eye sockets huge as he watched his father—their father struggle with foreign tools to coax a spark back into the sputtering soul in the chamber. Sans’ own soul threatened to drop out of his ribs when he made note of the chalky discoloration in the maturation fluid. Dust was leaking from his sibling’s deformed marrow.
He had vaguely heard of what happened when monsters died but seeing that, here, now—yet despite the older monster’s warning at the door, he couldn’t tear his stunned gaze away.
Stay back while we get him stabilized.
“Him.”
Sans’ vision blurred at the realization. He had a brother.
That was his little brother down there, leaking real-life dust, with their stoic father sparing real-life tears over him even as he barked orders at the others to help. His brother, who hadn’t yet gotten any chance to touch his feet to the ground, smile, eat sweets, do three cartwheels or be tucked in at bedtime. If Gaster and the others couldn’t light up his soul again, he might never, ever…Oh, stars.
Choking on a violent sob that came without warning, guilt and horror burning down his cheeks, Sans flung himself against the glass, the same glass where he’d said those awful things. He had done something truly evil; he could see that now. Out of nothing but anger and jealousy, Sans had cursed him. He was killing him now with his cruelty!
“I’m sorry! Brother, stop it, please! I’m sorry!”
Everything happening right now was his fault; his brother was only doing what he had said. Sans hadn’t felt wanted because of him; now he’d made that little soul feel the very same. He was only a baby. How was he to cope? His will was too weak; that kind of pain was too much for him to bear!
“I didn’t mean it like this; I didn’t want to hurt you!”
Was he listening anymore? Could he hear through all of the sirens and the shouting? Could the dust listen? When Gaster sparked his soul again, it jumped, heaving with tiny sparks of green healing magic before guttering to gray. Sans moaned at the sight, tears smudging the windowpane.
“No, no, don’t do it…Please, don’t go! This isn’t fair! Light up again, please. I want you to stay! I-I’ll share everything with you! I don’t need it all to myself, I need you too! Papa needs you! We’ll love you, I promise! We want you here!”
I want you here.
I didn’t mean it.
I’m sorry.
I’ll love you, if I get the chance.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Somewhere along the line he dropped gracelessly to the floor. His tears blinded him to whatever was happening down there—and regardless, he could no longer bear to look for the moment the little soul shattered. He hid his face against the carpet, trying to smother the terror away.
It was Gaster who eventually woke him with a hand against his cheekbone. His fingers were shaky with exhaustion but he persisted. “Sans? Are you alright?” he croaked, thumbing at the old tearstains he found on his cheeks. He wasn’t certain how much Sans had seen, but after Gaster had been treated to the full, harrowing experience, he needed some contact with his elder son.
Gradually Sans stirred, foggy eyelights swimming into view. As soon as he registered his father’s presence, he tensed and trembled, fresh moisture rimming his sockets.
“My…b-brother,” he hiccupped miserably. He didn’t want to face whatever unknown these next few minutes held. “I love him, Papa, I swear I do. I don’t want him to go…”
A bitter taste filled Gaster’s mouth. Sans had seen more than he should have, then. Futilely Gaster had prayed that his boy had slept through the emergency, peaceful, innocent and unaware. With a wavering sigh he bent further down, gathering Sans up against him. His soul sank at the whimper Sans let out, face buried against the soft jumper that replaced his stained lab coat. His small hands dug into Gaster’s ribs, clinging as if to make sure he was real.
When was the last time Gaster had held him? In the anxiety and stress of these last several weeks, he could never seem to find the time.
“He’s stable,” he murmured, repeating it once more to convince himself. “Your brother is stable, Sans. He’s alive.” Wordlessly Sans sobbed and shook his head, clearly unbelieving as Gaster nodded toward the window. “Look. You can see for yourself.”
“He…There was dust everywhere,” he murmured pitifully. “His soul wouldn’t glow…”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, son, not about this. Look at him.”
Patiently, motionlessly, he endured the several seconds it took for Sans to summon his courage and turn his head toward the glass. His breath hitched.
Amidst tubes—more than a dozen now—and a trail of bubbles, a fist-sized lump glimmered, casting soft, amber-tinged shadows on the floor around its chamber. For how much grief and effort it had taken to claw its essence back to the living world, it now looked strangely peaceful. Perhaps he was sleeping.
“…He’s not sick anymore?”
Gaster’s shoulders slumped at that, though he did his best to keep his tone neutral. “I’m afraid he’s been rather fragile since he was conceived. I can’t pinpoint why. It’s simply the way he manifested. We’ll need to take very good care of him in the days to come.”
“We?” Sans’ head lifted. “I can help?”
“Once he’s old enough to leave the maturation chamber, your help will probably be the most vital for him. In part, you will be responsible for his experience of this world. He will need your guidance. He’ll need your spirit and your strength to lean on every day.”
A few beats of silence passed as Sans processed this, eyes fixed on the delicate soul. At last he sniffled, wiped his face against his father’s jumper and allowed himself a tiny, tearful laugh. “He’s not blue like I am.”
That wasn’t what Gaster had expected him to say, but he addressed it regardless. “No. Until now, I couldn’t predict the primary color of his magic. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
“Mm-mm…it’s okay. S’good that he’s different. He’s a…a ‘wonder of science.’ Isn’t he?”
“As are you, Sans. With hope, time and care, both of you will live to be truly extraordinary people.”
#undertale#underswap#fanfiction#sans#sans undertale#swap sans#papyrus#papyrus undertale#swap papyrus#w d gaster#babybones#new sibling#jealousy#neglect#loneliness#sickfic#near death experience#whump#angst#brotherly love#feels#angst with a hopeful ending
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seven: the petra gallego cinematic universe
I wasn’t a vain person.
If there was one thing I really liked about myself, it was probably this fact. I had never been careless with how I looked, but I didn’t let my appearance rule my life, either. I was perfectly comfortable going out of the house without makeup, just like some girls didn’t like to even run down to the Tesco without it on. This didn’t make me better than other girls, but my appearance was just something that had been secondary to my mental health.
Which is why I was chastising myself for staring at my nose in the mirror, frowning.
It had been a week since my disastrous conversation with Harry. In that week, I had been obsessively checking Twitter to see what his fans were saying about me. Overall, I was actually surprised to see that most of them were nice. They liked my Vans and thought the height difference between Harry and I was cute, whatever that meant. About twenty percent of them had been disparaging to my appearance in some way, though. They tweeted that I was too ugly to be seen with Harry. I would be the first to admit that I hadn’t looked my best when the pictures of us had surfaced, but I didn’t think I had looked as terrible as everyone was saying.
Over the past week, however, I found myself looking in the mirror a lot more than I usually did. At first, it had been the color of my hair. Brown was a hard color to criticize (in my opinion), but it was like the comments about my hair had made me realize how dull the color actually was. I had a small breakout near my hairline which I could easily cover with my hair, but it still made me upset to see since my skin was usually clear.
Today, the problem I seemed to have with my appearance was my nose. I was never aware that it was a little too protruding. The tip of it seemed to come to an unflattering point that I had never really noticed until I was standing in my bathroom, my hair slicked back from my shower. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, a frown on her face as her fingers contorted her nose this way and that.
Did my nose make me look ugly?
I scoffed at myself, hating the way I was scrutinizing my appearance and stepping away from the mirror. I braided my wet hair back so it wouldn’t stick to my face in stringy clumps and then walked out of my bathroom, giving Melody a wave. She had stayed the night at my place last night because Vera’s boyfriend had stayed at her place the night before and he always made weird comments about Melody’s body right in front of Vera.
“You were in there a long time for someone who only has like three bath products,” Melody commented, scrolling through the channels on the telly. The two of us were headed out to the midnight premiere of Captain Marvel, which was in a couple of hours. Melody had bought us tickets a couple months back and needless to say, it was the only thing I’d been looking forward to for a while.
I didn’t want to admit to my brazen and blunt best friend that the reason was because I was nitpicking my appearance. “I’m always in the shower for a long time.”
Besides my newfound insecurities with my physical appearance, this week had also been filled with Marvel movies. We had watched all the films in the universe to prepare us for both Captain Marvel and Endgame, which was set to come out in April. We had also already purchased our tickets to that midnight screening. In fact, I was fairly certain this was the only time I had gotten ready in the past week. Usually our Marvel marathons were spent entirely in our pajamas.
“Touché.”
My phone buzzed quietly in my pocket. Knowing who it probably was, I ignored it.
He had been messaging me on Instagram ever since the night of our argument. He had apologized almost an hour afterwards, mentioning that he didn’t have the right to feel offended by my offhanded joke. I hadn’t replied. The next day, he had asked about the succulent he brought me, which he said he affectionately named Benjamin. I didn’t reply to that one either. He didn’t message me for two days after that, but then tried his luck again with messaging me, asking if I was free that day.
I hoped the radio silence on my end was hint enough.
I don’t know what I had been thinking, trying to be friends with Harry. Not even friends, but rather acquaintances. It was just too difficult to be friends with him when I knew about our past. Despite my mother and father begging me to give Harry a chance to prove that the boy from secondary school no longer existed, Doctor Thorne had been right. I wasn’t going to force myself into having a relationship with him.
“Is that the raging twat again?”
While I hadn’t told her about my Twitter deep searches, I did tell her about the conversation with Harry last week. She had clucked her tongue, as if to say I told you so without really saying it.
I pulled out my phone. I didn’t even read the message, just checked to see if it was attached to his username. “Yep.”
“You still ignoring him?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He doesn’t deserve you.”
I halfway agreed. Not because he was some secretly kind and beautiful person, but because I didn’t think it was especially hard to deserve me. If Harry had shown even the smallest of kindnesses to me when we were younger, he might have deserved me. Since he hadn’t, he didn’t. But I didn’t think I was this incredibly special person who deserved the world.
“Read me the message. I wanna hear what he has to say for himself,” Melody said, leaning back on my couch and propping her feet up on my coffee table.
Obliging, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and opened up Instagram.
“Christ, he’s sent me a fucking novel.”
Melody just snickered.
harrystyles:
Hi Petra. Just checking in. I’m sorry for last week. I know that’s why you’re probably ignoring me. I’ve gone and fucked things up again, haven’t I? I know this isn’t going to make up for anything, but I know you and Melody are probably going to the premiere of Captain Marvel tonight. Tell me how you like it. I’ve got tickets to the premiere in Los Angeles in two weeks. If you want, I could get you tickets to come. Let me know. I’ll get Melody a ticket too.
My mouth hung open at his message.
“Holy shit, he really wants you to forgive him. Los Angeles? That’s major.”
I didn’t know why, because Melody was looking impressed and reluctantly excited, but I was angry. I wanted to throw my phone across the room.
Of course it wasn’t enough that he just wanted to apologize for being a shitty person. He just had to make sure something was attached, like that was a reason for giving our hesitant acquaintanceship another shot. I knew Harry was rich and had money to buy the people he cared about nice things, but to me, that was a cheap shot. I’d much rather have something heartfelt, like him inviting me to meet John Williams because he knew how excited I’d be.
It was like I wasn’t even worth the effort. Like he could just throw something expensive in my direction and I’d forgive him.
“You can have the tickets if you want,” I told Melody, tossing my phone onto the couch in annoyance, “but I don’t want them.”
Melody raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. She just continued to search through channels for something to watch. While we sat in the silence, I let my eyes drift over to Benjamin (which I had reluctantly started calling him. Not because Harry had thought of it, but because it was a rather cute name).
If Harry had shown up with another thoughtful little plant like that, I might have forgiven him.
“I’m not going to Los Angeles without you. The raging twat can go fuck himself.” I chuckled at her blasé tone. “I’m just… I don’t know. Worried about you. I know you guys were getting closer or whatever.”
“No,” I almost immediately responded. “I think Harry and I are unable to be friends.”
And that was the truth of the matter. I had deluded myself into some sort of comfortability with him, but it was long gone. It was like his little offhand comment had reminded me of all the shit he had done. He was Harry who introduced me to John Williams and brought me iced coffee, yes, but he was also the Harry who made me sob and was one of the reasons I was going to therapy in the first place.
“Trennan and I are unable to be friends. Trennan’s not a twat like Harry is, but he’s so fucking stupid.”
And just like that, my sour mood was back to normal. Melody had that effect on people. We wasted time by chatting about Trennan’s latest fuck up at work and watched an episode of Friends that was playing on the telly. We painted our nails (something Melody was surprisingly good at) red, blue, and gold to show support for Carol Danvers before the movie. When it came time for us to leave, my flat, we eagerly got into our Uber who took one look at our Marvel gear and asked if we were going to the midnight premiere.
The theater was packed when we arrived, but since we’d already gotten our tickets, there really wasn’t anything to worry about. It was one of those fancy theaters that sold alcohol, so we each got a drink and cheered to the new movie before they allowed us into the actual theater. We were sitting in the middle, which was absolutely the best seat in the house, and I wiggled into the chair and flipped up the foot rest. There was a little swinging table that came across my stomach, so I set my drink there.
For those glorious two hours and five minutes, all of my worries seemed to evaporate. Watching Carol Danvers kicking alien ass was like a switch that shut off all the drama that was going on with Harry and all of the terrible tweets. It was just Melody and I watching as the first woman superhero in Marvel got her solo film. Seeing Samuel L. Jackson without an eyepatch and CGI’d to look younger was a trip, but the movie was so brilliant that I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Fuck, that was brilliant,” Melody exclaimed when we exited the theater, still on the high of seeing such an amazing film. “Did you see her absolutely obliterate Jude Law?”
I had seen her absolutely obliterate Jude Law, but I nodded my head enthusiastically. “And then that line!”
“I’ve got nothing to prove to you,” Melody quoted, her voice dipping lower to try and mimic Brie Larson’s cadence. “Holy shit I’m so glad we saw that.”
“You coming back to mine?” I asked, getting out my phone to order an Uber for the two of us.
“Unfortunately no. I’ve got to head to the office early in the morning and I don’t want to wake you up. Plus, I’ve got some documents there that I need.”
Once we grabbed an Uber back to her flat, I gave her a quick hug. The nights where Melody didn’t stay the night were weird now. I had gotten used to her using my couch as her safe haven.
“What’s the second address?” the Uber driver asked.
I told him my flat address as my phone beeped in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I was surprised to see Bailey’s number flashing across my screen. “Bails?” I asked when I answered it. There was thumping bass in the background of wherever she was and I had to plug my other ear with my finger to hear her clearly.
“Petra! Thank Christ. I didn’t know who else to call. Harry is here and he’s absolutely pissed. Like, I don’t think he can even navigate through the Uber app right now. Jeff left about an hour ago, but I don’t think he knew how drunk Harry was. I’ve been sitting with him for a couple of minutes trying to get him to drink water.”
My first instinct was to tell Harry Styles to fuck off. He was smarter than going out and getting piss drunk without a sure way home. But the pleading tone of Bailey’s voice had me sympathetic enough to ask where they were. Once she gave me the name of the night club, I told the driver to change course and that I’d pay him double for the inconvenience. “Alright, Bails, I’m on my way. Sorry you have to deal with him.”
“S’alright. He was fine the first couple of drinks. Was dancing and singing. Then he just got quiet and sad. I’m just worried he’s going to do something stupid.”
I wasn’t heartless enough to not feel sympathy for him. But my sympathy wouldn’t fix things between us, so I just hummed at Bailey’s statement. “Try and keep him drinking some water. I’ll make sure he gets home safe. Is anyone else there with you?”
“Veronica’s in the loo.”
There was a bright side to this little excursion then. At least I would get to say hello to Bailey and Veronica. “Alright. Be there soon.”
I wasn’t exactly dressed to go to a nightclub. I noticed this the second the driver pulled up and I promised I would be out in fifteen minutes. I was in mum jeans and my Marvel shirt, not in the glittery and sequined mini dresses some of the girls were wearing. Uncomfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to find Bailey in the crowd of people. There were intoxicated people everywhere, bumping into me and sending me glares as if it were my fault. Eventually I managed to find the leggy blonde that was Veronica Berkley, and made a beeline over towards her.
The three of them were sitting at a table, Harry’s head down on the wood and his arm hanging limply at his side. He had a glass of water in front of him and Bailey was trying to coax him to take another sip. When she saw me, her face relaxed. “Thank Christ. Thanks, Petra.”
“Petra?” Harry asked, his head immediately lifting from the table. He stared at me, but it didn’t look like he was all the way there. He then noticed my outfit and sent me a timid smile. “How was the movie?”
“C’mon,” I said stoically, reaching for him, “let’s get you home.”
Helping Harry keep upright happened to be a very difficult task. Compared to me, he was unreasonably tall. He leaned awkward against me, but slotted his arm around my shoulders to keep himself from tipping over. “I had too many shots of tequila,” he mumbled groggily, blinking slowly as I tried to maneuver his weight in a way that helped us both not fall.
“I know,” I replied. I looked towards Bailey and Veronica. “I’ve got him, guys. I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?”
“Please do. Be careful,” Veronica said, eyeing Harry. She didn’t know the details of our past, but she knew I wasn’t exactly his number one fan. Veronica was incredibly well-tempered, but also was passionate about protecting the ones she cared about. For some wild reason, I had made it into this category.
I nodded and reached around Harry, pulling his body closer to my waist so I could keep him up. Walking was a bit of a chore, especially because drunk Harry seemed to get distracted very easily, but we made it out of the nightclub with minor injuries and arguments. The Uber driver from earlier raised an eyebrow when Harry Styles got into his car, but thankfully didn’t say much else.
“Same address?” the Uber driver asked.
“No,” I said, turning to Harry. “Harry, you’ve got to tell me your address so we can get you home.”
“I don’t remember it.”
I tried not to get annoyed since it wouldn’t be much help, but that proved difficult while in the presence of one Harry Styles. “Don’t you want to go home and sleep in your bed? From my own memory, I remember it being a magnificent one.”
He grinned. “You’ve imagined being in my bed?” At my deadpan look, his smile dropped and he shook his head. “I...I don’t want to be alone.”
That should have been it. I should have demanded to get the address from him and sent him on his way home. I’d walk him up to his door and put him in his bed (fuck changing him out of his clothes, he could sleep in his wide-legged yellow pants for all I cared) and then be on my way. But it was the look in his eyes as he hesitantly turned to face me that had me stopping in my tracks. They weren’t the carelessly apologetic eyes I had been expecting to see after our little disagreement. They were tired, an exhaustion that only came with carrying the weight of something heavy and ugly on your shoulders. He blinked slowly at me, and I was a little surprised to see tears well in them.
Which was the only reason I told the driver to just stick to my address.
Harry was nearly comatose on the drive back, staring out the window so I couldn’t see that lonely look in his eyes anymore. I didn’t know if I was grateful for it or wishing I could see it again. Seeing it would prove to me that there was a semblance of a human who had problems like I did, but not seeing it meant that I could still justify being angry with him about last week. Eventually, I just settled into my seat and looked out my own window as the city passed us by.
When the driver pulled up to my place, I had to shake Harry gently awake. Sometime during the drive, he had dozed off. He blinked a little sleepily at me as I thanked the guy driving us and hurriedly exited the car to help Harry out of his side. Like in the club, he easily slid his arm around my shoulders and accepted my help as we hobbled to my flat. Getting my keys out of my pocket with a drunk gargantuan attached to me was difficult, but not impossible. Soon we stumbled into my flat and Harry made a beeline to my couch, groaning as he sat on the cushions.
“Why’re we at your place?” he asked, his breath smelling entirely like the bottom of a bottle.
“You said you didn’t want to be alone,” I replied, gathering the blankets and pillows that Melody usually slept with to make him a little pallet on the couch.
He frowned. “I didn’t think you cared.”
That stung more than it should have. “M’not heartless, Harry.”
“No,” he immediately said, shaking his head, “no. You’re the opposite of heartless. You have too much heart, I think. There’s so much of it and it’s easy to break and I’ve broken it a lot.”
I was uncomfortable with the direction our conversation was taking. I hoped he would fall asleep soon so I could retreat to my room and escape the emotions swirling around inside me. “Go to sleep, Harry. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I’ll feel like shit. I always do when you’re involved.” He seemed to have enough clarity to know that this wasn’t a good thing to say, so he cursed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that I’m not good enough to be your friend.”
Laughing humorlessly, I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Harry. You’re drunk.”
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he reminded me.
“I never believed in that saying.”
“It’s because you would never say someone bad about someone. That’s what being drunk is, mostly. You just say shitty things because suddenly you have courage. But you wouldn’t. Because you’re a nice person.” He curled onto his side, clutching the pillow like it was his salvation. “I know I fucked up. I didn’t have a right to be mad when you said that.”
“You didn’t,” I agreed.
“I just hate being reminded of what person I was to you.” When I didn’t say anything, his eyes scanned my flat, landing on the succulent he had brought me. “You kept Benjamin.”
“I told you I was a good plant mum. Just because I was mad at you doesn’t mean Benjamin needed to suffer.”
He laughed, the sound of it making me feel lighter now that I knew he was off the self-deprecating thoughts. We could discuss it in the morning. I still wasn’t really ready to forgive, and that was on me. I had to search deep into myself and deal with problems that didn’t have anything to do with Harry. Hearing him—even if I knew he was drunk—apologize for his actions helped.
“She’s really beautiful,” he said suddenly, and I saw his eyes on the photo of my grandmother.
“She is.” I tried to forget that he had told me last week that I had looked like her.
“You are too. Inside and out. I want to be beautiful like that.”
His hand reached out and curled around mine, carding our fingers together to examine the difference in sizes. My hand was small and bony, his fingers were long and callused from playing guitar. I held my breath as he stared at our fingers, his thumb running across the back of my hand and tickling the skin there. “Why didn’t you want to be alone tonight, Harry?” I whispered.
“Always alone. Didn’t want to be.”
His head lolled to its side, burrowing itself into the pillow. I knew he would be out in a matter of minutes and I could release my fingers from his then, but for now I let him clutch onto my skin. I heard the moment his breathing evened out, small snores falling from his parted lips. Sighing, I stood from the couch and tossed the blanket over him, making sure he was properly tucked in since I knew the fan blowing overhead sometimes made Melody cold.
And then I retreated to my own room, trying to ignore the fact that Harry Styles was sleeping just beyond my bedroom wall.
~
The smell of something burning woke me up.
It took me a couple of moments to remember what had happened the night before. When I did, I groaned. This morning was going to be interesting with a hungover Harry. I was suddenly glad Melody had decided to stay at her place because Christ knew she would be glaring at Harry’s every move. Blearily putting on my glasses so I could properly see, I stretched my body out of bed, listening to the pops and cracks of my bones. I was dressed in my normal sleep attire of leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, so I just shoved my feet into slippers and made my way into the kitchen.
The burning toast had woken me from sleep, but the fact that Harry was standing in my kitchen in nothing but his underwear was like someone had poured cold water down my back.
He turned, jumping when he saw me staring at him. “Christ, you move quietly!” he exclaimed. My eyes were locked onto his torso, unable to meet his eyes. Harry wasn’t the most muscular guy that I’d ever seen, but that didn’t mean he was lacking in that department. His entire body looked like someone’s doodled-in notebook, but the tattoos suited him.
All except the giant fucking butterfly.
“Morning,” he said cautiously, not noticing that my gaze was on the giant insect across his stomach.
“Why the fuck did you get a butterfly?” I asked, ignoring morning pleasantries in favor of taking a page from Melody’s book and being blunt and honest.
He smiled a little. “Lux liked butterflies.” I had no idea who Lux was, but I just raised an eyebrow. “I’m making us breakfast.”
“I’m surprised you’re up and about. I was sure you’d be groaning and complaining about your massive headache.” Still, I sat at one of my barstools and watched him put two slices of toast on a plate. I smelled the avocado before I saw it, and I was happy to see he put a generous helping on the toast I assumed was meant for me. Sprinkling pepper and salt on it, he handed it to me with a flourish.
“I found your ibuprofen. Sorry for rummaging.”
I took a bite of the toast, noticing that he was leaning forward on the counter to see my reaction. When I swallowed, I gave him a nod and a tiny smile to let him know that, yes, his breakfast was edible. He let out a sigh of relief and then started on breakfast for himself.
Having Harry Styles in my kitchen making me breakfast was like an out of body experience. It felt like the dream of every girl back in secondary school had happened to me, the girl that Harry hated most. It was wild to wrap my head around. I was still trying to when he turned to me.
“The paps got pictures of us last night.”
The last time the paps had gotten pictures of us, I had been sent into a spiraling hole of self-esteem that I still hadn’t entirely clawed my way out from. “Oh,” was all I was able to say.
“Jeff called me this morning to tell me. I just wanted to let you know so you weren’t blindsided.” I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it when I realized how stupid I would sound. Unfortunately, he caught it. “Say what’s in your head,” he suggested, taking a bite of his toast.
“I don’t want to. It’s stupid.” I brushed the tiny crumbs of toast of my shirt, avoiding Harry’s gaze.
“It’s not stupid if it puts that look on your face.”
I wanted to remind him that there was once a time he put that look on my face daily. But I didn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us to bring something like that back up, not when things seemed to be going decently. “I just...I’m sure I didn’t look my best. Between that and the John Williams day…” I let my voice trail off, taking another bite of the toast to distract myself.
“Petra, no one cares how you look.” The sentence almost made me chuckle because of its phrasing, but I knew how he meant it.
“Some people do.”
It took him a few moments to realize what I had said, but when he did, he set his plate down on the counter. He didn’t look happy. His mouth was set in a grim line and his arms came up to cross in front of his chest. “You went on Twitter.”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t anything I wasn’t expecting. I walked out of the house with wet hair and my makeup not done.” I hated that I had become this girl, the one that cared what people thought about her appearance. But seeing people saying such harsh things had ruined the carefully constructed version of myself that I held in my head.
“Look at me,” he said in a quiet voice. When I lifted my gaze, his eyes were burning with something I couldn’t identify. “Petra Gallego, you are absolutely gorgeous. Don’t let assholes tell you otherwise.”
My mouth went dry and embarrassed tears pricked in my eyes.
“I owe you an apology,” he said while I tried to tighten my throat so the tears wouldn’t fall. “I acted like a dick the last time I was here. You had every right to ignore me. I honestly don’t know why you keep giving me chances.”
“I wasn’t going to let you be that drunk by yourself without someone to take care of you,” I argued. “Anyone else would have done it, too.”
“No, they wouldn’t have. I meant what I said last night, Petra. You’re beautiful inside and out.”
“You can’t just say things like that to me,” I blurted.
“Why?”
“You just can’t,” I argued, giving him a glare and pushing my plate of toast away from me. Instead of taking this as a sign that I was done discussing the topic, he took the plate and put it in my sink, casually washing off the crumbs like this was something he did everyday. “And you can’t just try and get me to forgive you by throwing money at me either.”
He stopped cleaning my dishes, giving me a confused look. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The premiere in Los Angeles? You just offered the tickets to get me to forgive you, and it made me feel like shit. Like I wasn’t even a person worth apologizing to.”
His eyes were wide. “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I’m sorry that it did. I just offered it because I knew it would be something you were interested in. I’ll back off with stuff like that if it's what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
“Okay.” And that was that. He went back to cleaning up my kitchen and I remained sitting in my barstool, a little dumbfounded at what was happening. “How was the movie?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Captain Marvel. How was it? I wasn’t lying when I said I had tickets to the premiere and I want to know if it’s worth going out to LA to see it. I’ve missed a couple of the Marvel movies, so I might be a bit lost, but do you think I could follow the plot without having to Wikipedia the rest of the movies?”
Harry Styles was asking me about Marvel. I felt like I had stepped into some kind of Twilight Zone. Back in secondary school, he would have laughed if I gushed about the movie. I’d like to believe the Harry in front of me wouldn’t do the same, but I was still hesitant and unsure around him. “It was good,” I settled on finally, retreating back into my bubble of self-preservation.
“Good. I’m glad you liked it. I know you were looking forward to it. Who’s on AC this week?”
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested, Harry.”
His fingers stilled, and he stared at my sink for a few seconds. I knew once again I had said the wrong thing, but I was standing my ground for this one. I wasn’t going to let him get mad that I was hesitant and unsure to share stuff with him. “I’m not pretending. I’ve been listening,” he said after a few moments of awkward silence. “I was wondering if it was going to be anyone I knew.”
“Probably not. It’s my editor for the publishing company I’ve been working with.”
“Publishing company? You’re writing a book? That’s brilliant, Petra!”
I wasn't used to praise from Harry, which might have been why I looked at him a little dumbfounded. “Um, yeah. It should be published in a few months.”
“Will you sign a copy for me?”
“No,” I blurted without thinking about it. I regret it the second it left my mouth, but Harry seemed to take my answer in stride, if his nod was anything to go by.
“Alright, that’s fine. I’m going to buy my own copy, though.”
“I don’t know why I said that. Of course I’ll sign it. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for your emotions, Petra. You’ve got a right to every single one of them.” A slow grin came across his face. “Unless your emotions cause you to physically harm Benjamin. Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to intervene.”
“Do you just go around telling people what a shit plant mum I am?”
He laughed, tossing his head back. It was then that I was struck how gorgeous Harry truly was. Sure, I had known it back in secondary school, but his personality had made him ugly in my eyes. Now, however, I couldn’t deny it, especially when he was smiling at me and doing my dishes in the middle of my kitchen. The shorter hair suited him, though I was fairly certain the longer hair would as well. He was unfairly beautiful.
He had said last night that he wished he could be beautiful inside and out, but he was already halfway there.
“I wasn’t sure that if in your anger you would have harmed him. I’m glad to see I was wrong.”
“Shut up, you oversized Etch-a-Sketch,” I growled. “Who the fuck gets a butterfly tattooed on their stomach?”
He couldn’t hear me over the sound of his own chuckling. When he was done with the dishes, he made his way over to where his clothes were resting, putting the ridiculously bright trousers back on over his pants. The shirt was a little more tame than some of the ones I’d seen in pictures, and I was happy that his torso was covered. I felt like having him half-naked in my kitchen was going too fast too quickly. There was still a hesitant wariness that I felt when I saw him.
“Would you ever get a tattoo?” he asked curiously as he pulled on his shoes.
I hadn’t really ever thought about it. The idea wasn’t one I disliked, but I just hadn’t gotten around to sitting down and debating what I might like to have on my skin. “I don’t know. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to get to know you better. I feel like I know nothing about you.”
The idea of Harry wanting to get to know me made me squirm a little in my seat. “Oh.”
“You could get something from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. Some of the artists I’ve gone to would make a tattoo like that look incredible. Come to think of it, I actually think one of my guys has the death eater symbol tattooed on his arm.”
While that was incredibly awesome (I told Harry so), I didn’t think I would want something from a fandom tattooed on my body. It wasn’t that I thought my love for it would diminish, as I was...well, me. But when I thought of tattoos, I thought of something much more personal and intimate. Tattoos didn’t always have to have some deep or hidden meaning, as exhibited by some of Harry’s doodle-like ink, but to me, I would want it to mean something.
“Vive libremente,” I said. I had been so deep in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized he was still talking and I had just interrupted him. He stared at me questioningly. “That’s, um, what I would get tattooed. If I ever did.”
“What does it mean?”
“Live freely.” Because wasn’t that what I was trying to get to? To the point in my life where I could live my life the way I wanted to, without interference from anyone else or my own insecurities. It was a concept Doctor Thorne had introduced to me, like carpe diem but so much more. Living freely wasn’t about seizing the day. It was about taking the mundane days and living them in a way that was unabashedly me.
“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” he commented.
“I don’t. I wish I did. I’ve never really learned it. I just know a couple of phrases.”
“Your parents...they were born in Cuba, right?”
Immediately, I was on the defensive. Harry had never directly insulted my heritage in school, but Nathan Penrose had. He had made comments about sending me back to where I belonged and how he didn’t truly believe I was Cuban because I hadn’t acted like it. The thought had always been confusing to me. I was too Cuban to fit in with his friends, but I was too English to belong in Cuba either. “Yes,” I said, and he could tell my voice was stiff.
I didn’t realize he had moved closer to me until I suddenly felt his hand on my arm. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. Just asking questions.”
I swallowed. “Cuba is a hard subject for me.”
“Okay. We’ll talk about something else.”
And then he launched into a discussion about what order he needed to watch the Marvel movies in. We talked about them for what must have been an hour and a half before he stated that he had to leave, thanking me again for not letting him fall asleep at some random night club. I watched him leave my flat with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
I wanted to be friends with Harry Styles. But the thought of being friends with him, of letting him in completely, was terrifying to me. I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to handle it.
A little chirp came from my phone the second I closed the door behind him.
harrystyles:
I’m not nearly done in my journey of getting to know Petra Gallego. Therefore, I’m sending my number. I feel like texting will be easier. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You have a choice. But I just wanted to send it. Have a good day, Petra.
Attached was his phone number. I stared at it for a couple of seconds before reluctantly making a contact for him and putting his number in.
Not quite the long journey you were expecting. I’m not that interesting.
His text bubbles popped up almost immediately. You’re the most interesting person I think I’ve ever met. There’s a journey there, trust me. Also, I’m requesting to follow you on Instagram. I’m tired of Gemma getting to see all your posts and not me.
I just smiled when the request came through.
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Free Fall
Chapter 4 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)
Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Chapter Synopsis: Bryce takes Heather out to distract her, while a real threat looms closer than ever.
Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)
Words: 1.9k | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance
Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / hints of violence, stalking
Author’s Notes: I always wanted to try trampoline basketball (not sure if that's the right term?), it looked cool on videos. BUT lockdown happened, so here I am manifesting what could've been a great date night alternative. I have also long imagined to bounce around in slow motion while the chorus of Fallin' All In You by Shawn Mendes was playing on the background. Hope I made the wait for this chapter worth it. Also, disclaimer: majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song.
Please let me know if you want me to tag you for the rest of this series. Thank you for reading!
Jordan whistled as he walked through the off-white hallways, pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies forward. Although he knew that this was just a temp job, a means to an ends, it didn't mean he can't enjoy its perks.
His gray overall was already damp, as he just finished mopping the hallways of the building's seventh floor. He was heading to his last assignment for the day, which was also his favorite. His black sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor, but he didn't seem to mind. He was feeling accomplished today, seeing his art splayed across the local news. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, knowing he's running closer toward the finish line of his master plan.
He adjusted his baseball cap before tapping his key card on the scanner by the glass door, then stepped inside the empty office.
He cleared the tables of assorted food wrappers in record time. But there was a table where he liked to linger a little bit longer.
His fingers grazed on the surface of the desk - she always kept hers tidy. He read through the pages of the medical books browsing where bookmarks were sandwiched in, trying to get an idea of where she left off. He then reached out to the purple bottle of hand cream on the left side of the computer screen, and pumped it to get a few drops on his palms. He loved the jasmine scent of it, reminding him of the same fragrance of the clothes in her closet.
He tapped on the keyboard and the screen display came to life, revealing a picture of her and her mother when she was a teenager. He logged himself in, checking her emails. He found what he was looking for, and took a picture of the itinerary using his phone. He closed the applications and locked the computer, the screen display reverting back to the wallpaper earlier. He smiled sadly as he looked on, thinking what a waste it will be when her day of reckoning comes. It's a pity that she threw herself in the middle of a crossfire, so he had no choice. He felt bad for her, recalling the months of stalking he did to know her life. He always thought she was no different from him, alone in a city, no parents to turn to, no one but themselves to rely on.
After switching off the computer monitor, he retrieved his cleaning supplies and sprayed a disinfectant on the surface of her desk. He was about to wipe it when he heard the distinct beep of the electronic lock, followed by the subsequent opening of the glass door behind him.
"Oh, hey Pete," Heather waved at him as she approached. "Sorry for uhm, interrupting. I'm just here to get some of my books."
He tried to hide his initial shock, grinning goofily at her then stepped back from her desk. "No problem, doc. I'll get out of your hair so you could do whatcha have to do."
She smiled back at him. "No, no need. I'll just grab these," she took the bundle of books sitting on top of her desk, "and then these..." she trailed off as she unlocked the drawers and retrieved a small bottle of the hand cream and a few markers. She put the small items in her purse and stepped back.
"Thanks, Pete. I'll see you around," she bid him goodbye, hastily getting out of the diagnostics office.
Jordan followed her figure until she was out of his sight. He then approached the glass windows and slid his fingers in between the blinds, waiting until he saw her crossing the parking lot and got into a familiar silver Camry.
Aha, so you're with the ADA. No wonder he didn't see her with the special agent. She stayed with someone else.
It was smart for her to stay somewhere he wouldn't expect. But it didn't matter now. Phase 2 didn't concern where she lived at the moment. His lips twisted into a sinister smile, knowing she never had a clue of what was to come.
Oh doc, I'll see you soon.
***
Bryce honked his horn the moment he saw what was cradled in her arms. "Nerd alert!" he shouted.
"Ugh, shut up!" she groaned, her eyes rolling as she dropped the books into the backseat of his car.
"Seriously, Heath, you are such a dork. It's Sunday!" he said as he began driving out of Edenbrook's parking lot.
She snapped on her seat belt and leaned back, crossing her arms. "You are a hypocrite, Lahela! Deep down you know we are on the same league," she said as she glared at him.
"Nope, not at the moment, I'm no hypocrite. Do you even see me checking my phone for emails?"
"Psh, you're driving, you just can't," she ruffled her bangs, annoyed. "So, what's the plan here?"
"Lighten up, Doctor Song, have some little spontaneity!" he shuffled his shoulders as he said the last word. "I promised to distract you today, did you not trust this handsome face when you said so this morning?" Bryce pouted in an effort to mock her.
She huffed in reply, settling into silence. She did trust him. She trusted him last night when she poured out her heartbreak to him. She also chose to trust him this morning, taking up his offer to go out today. He gave a convincing pitch about what he had planned for the day. But really, Heather would take any opportunity to get her mind off from the incidents of the past two days.
Besides, it was easy to say yes to Bryce. She was comfortable around him. He reminded her of her carefree days before her life all went downhill. He balanced her out, his dazzling personality never failed to brighten up even the starkest days for Heather. And this was her darkest season in recent memory. It was just apt to let someone like Bryce shine upon it.
So she agreed to leave at noon, but asked to swing by the hospital to get some of her books so she could catch up on some reading. She wanted to stay sharp since she'll be flying back to Maryland to continue her cancer research.
Now they're driving along the freeway, she had no idea where their car is headed. After almost an hour, Bryce took an exit and then a few turns, before entering a parking lot full of cars.
"We're here!" he said as he tapped the steering wheel and turned off the ignition. She got out of the car along with him, staring at the white signage in front of the building.
"Sky zone?" Heather squinted at him, a queasy feeling rising in her stomach.
Seeing her hesitation, he practically dragged her to the front door and pushed her inside. A sight of kids and adults alike bouncing up and down on various complex trampoline structures welcomed her.
She'd never seen Bryce this giddy, who went straight to the reception to register both of them. She was left alone and dumbfounded. She had no idea a place like this in Boston existed. But all the laughter surrounding her made her suddenly excited.
He pulled her into an area full of lockers, and helped her shove her shoes and purse inside an empty one. He shoved his into another beside hers.
"So? What do you think?" Bryce walked up to the nearest trampoline platform looking at her expectantly.
"You sure you're an adult?" she said sarcastically, chuckling as she said it.
"Aha! I knew it! I just know you'll like this!" he teased. "Dibs on the first bounce!" he leaped onto one then did a backflip, as Heather watched in amazement. He did another flip, even posing midair to make it look effortless. Seeing him enjoying himself, she couldn't resist any longer and dived right in.
"This... Feels... Awesome!" she shouted to him in between bouncing, trying to propel herself higher with each jump. Bryce simply nodded back, giggling with her as they alternated between bouncing and running to the different trampoline stages in the park.
Heather never felt as exhilarated as she was at that moment. With every jump, she felt a piece of her heartbreak shedding away. In her mind, she screamed at the looming threats that washed over her the past few weeks. It was getting more and more difficult to hold on to the grudges that wrapped her heart. So she let herself go. She leaped on every surface, on every stage, on every setup. She bounced until there was nothing left of the anxieties that seemed to anchor her with heaviness in the past 48 hours.
When she started losing steam, she lifted herself with all her might and leaped into a pit of sponges, savoring the few moments of free fall. She then stood up on her feet and went down, found somewhere to sit and rest. Bryce followed her shortly after.
While they were sipping ice cold water from one of the vending machines, he watched her. She was lost in her thoughts, a pensive look in her face. He perked up when she finally spoke.
"The metaphor isn't lost in me. I get why you brought me here." she punched his arm playfully, before wiping the sweat on her forehead with a paper towel.
"I never doubted you'd get it," he nodded, his face turning serious. "Look, let me tell you a secret," he leaned forward closing the gap between them. "This is where I kinda sulk after I lose a case, or when my head gets caught up in a rut," he paused for a few moments, pursing his lips. "Look, I know you've been through some hard times recently, but in my gut I know you're tougher than that. You're strong, you're a victor, you always, always overcome. Even when things get difficult, you just leverage the situation so you could bounce back. If there's anyone who can emerge from all of this triumphantly, it's you. Because you know why? You're one hell of a woman, Heather."
He stopped himself from saying anything more and finished his speech, as he gave her an endearing look.
She was taken aback by his words, unsure how to react. It took her a few moments before it sunk in - that he was exactly right. When times did get rough, she always managed to rise above it. She didn't buckle. But she had a tendency to forget, not because she's overwhelmed, but because she buzzed right through every painful experience. She used them as stepping stones, as fuel to her dreams and desires. She only needed a rousing reminder.
And that's what Bryce gave her today. With her spirit lifted by his overwhelming encouragement, she placed her hand over his and gave it a soft squeeze. Without thinking, she planted a quick peck on his cheek.
"Thank you, Bryce. Thanks for bringing me here. I needed this." she whispered, staring back at him.
It took all of Bryce's strength to stop himself from kissing her. Instead, he settled on ruffling her damp hair, smiling brightly back at her.
"Like I said, I always got your back." He opened his arms and shrugged, a smug smile pasted on his face. "So if you're done moping around, you wanna play some more?"
Heather can't help but laugh.
They hit the trampolines again, with Bryce flipping himself and shooting into some hoops. They even had a contest, where they tried besting each other over dodge ball. They didn't stop until they got both hungry. He eventually drove them to a nearby food truck, and together they ate hotdogs and greasy fries in his car. Heather's friends called her while they were parked, inviting them both for a quick hangout at Donahues.
As they drove back into the town center in silence, she couldn't ignore the tugging in her heart that this wasn't just two friends hanging out. Yet she didn't feel guilty or confused at all. That Sunday afternoon, she felt entirely certain that she was with someone who she was supposed to be with. It didn't feel forced, exhausting or boring. It simply felt good.
Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week
Ricochet AU tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela
#open heart#open heart 2#bryce lahela#bryce lahela x mc#bryce x mc#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfiction#choices fic writers creations#choices#pixelberry#play choices
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All I Want for Christmas is You
Michael Guerin finds the true meaning of Christmas for the first time in his life.
This ficlet is a Christmas/Holiday gift for the Junkyard; the best group of people I know. I love you all so much!
Happy Holidays Everyone! Enjoy. xo.
You can read on ao3 as well!
Christmas was something Michael Guerin had never truly experienced, especially with a family of his very own. Now here he was, sitting in front of an evergreen tree with the love of his existence, a dog that liked watching TV, and a kitten that spent more time in his hat than in anyone’s arms.
“It’s definitely a good one we have here,” Alex said, eyes gleaming with wonder as he looked up. Michael smiled as he looked at Alex marveling at their tree.
Last Christmas, Alex gave Michael his heart, unfortunately, Michael wasn’t ready and gave it away. This year, everything was different.
“I’ll trust you in the tree department because to me…looks a little, I dunno, sparse?”
“Michael, that’s the point. We picked a tree that was forgotten. One left behind. We’re making a stand. No tree left unloved.”
“Wow, you’re passionate about this, babe,” Michael laughed as he picked up Boots who was rubbing against his ankles.
Alex stroked Boots who was now purring in Michael’s arms, “I think for me, I just have never enjoyed Christmas. Getting with my family, well, it wasn’t exactly a treat. And being with you and our little ones here, it’s just special.” Alex smiled, “So yeah, I guess you could say I’m a bit passionate about spending the holiday with my true family for once.”
“You, Alex Manes, are the real gift.” Michael leaned in and kissed the love of his life on the lips gently. It started to grow more intense, as it always did when Boots tapped his chin with his white paw. “Alright, alright.”
Alex laughed and grabbed Boots out of Michael’s arms, “Ready to decorate?”
“So what, we put these little blue balls all over the tree?”
“Well I don’t know about the blue balls, especially for you,” Alex winked with a mischievous gleam, “But yes, Guerin, we put the little ornaments on the tree…but first the lights.”
Michael was actually feeling excited, that is until he had to help string the lights. It took them a few tries when finally Michael used the help of his powers to get it just right.
“I know what you did there, love,” Alex replied as he stood back looking at the tree. “And honestly, I applaud you. Stringing lights is a real bitch.”
“Yea, you humans, and these little mundane traditions. Let your alien lover be of assistance.”
“Does that same offer apply in the bedroom?”
Michael scooted closer and grabbed Alex by his hips, pulling him in, “Darlin’, your wish is my command.” And he dashed them to the bedroom.
***
Decorating a tree was hard work, especially when you made love in between stringing the lights and hanging up a few ornaments here and there. But Michael couldn’t help it, his man looked too damn good and happiness shone through him like the gleaming star at the very top.
The tree was just the beginning of the festivities. Within the next few weeks, their group decided to do several activities with each other, because as Liz had stated, “That was having the Christmas spirit,” whatever the hell that meant.
Pulling Isobel away from her long list of holiday to-do’s had been a real challenge, but deep down, he knew she just wanted to be around them anyway.
That hadn’t stopped her from insisting to take him shopping. He didn’t see what the big deal was. The plan was just to give everyone a tune-up on their car, and he was going to do it, not Sanders. Well, Isobel nixed that idea as quickly as a snap and told him he was going on the top of her list of priorities. Cue major eye-roll.
He had never really seen this side of her around the holidays, especially with Noah now out of the picture; it was quite a sight. Max had quickly declined her many offers and gave Michael a look of good luck. He hadn’t understood, but then... he did. At one point, after she had dragged him around their small town for hours, he muttered “Christmas Nazi” under his breath.
Isobel didn’t find it amusing.
Overall, Michael was still grateful for her. They had lots of laughs, especially when he got her to let loose and have a few festive drinks, including the strong eggnog served at the Wild Pony.
When she jumped on stage, not during karaoke hour, and started singing Santa Baby, he saw Maria staring at her with what didn’t appear as an annoyance for once, but more like admiration sprinkled with something else Michael couldn’t quite place.
Something must have been brewing in the wind of Roswell.
When they all decided to go sledding down Warf’s Hill, Michael didn’t understand the appeal. What was so fun about riding down a mountain of snow in a plastic case?
Well, he changed his mind quickly as the thrill of soaring down the freshly fallen snow whirled and brushed around his face. It was such a rush.
However, the best part came when he decided to add a bit more speed onto Valenti’s sled. The good doctor was screaming bloody murder as he went over a snow jump. As Michael laughed, he caught a look at Alex who knew exactly what he had been up to and was now shaking his head. But Michael saw the hint of laughter in those cheeks of his.
Karma had definitely paid him a visit as he ate ice on the Roswell Skating Rink. Michael was about to curse the entire experience when he got a look at Alex gracefully skating up and down the sides wearing his Santa hat.
He was so beautiful; he always managed to take Michael’s breath away, even here in the cold.
So Michael took the chance of falling again, just to go around one more time holding his man’s strong hand.
It had been worth it.
A few days before Christmas, a few of them went to see a showing of White Christmas at the movie theater. Michael had never seen the movie but was equally touched nonetheless. The music, dancing, and the story spoke out to him, especially as he saw a small tear run down Alex’s cheek.
He gently stroked Alex’s arm and when Alex smiled at him, he knew that all he would ever want for Christmas, was Alex Manes.
***
On Christmas Eve, Alex decided he wanted everyone to join them for a Christmas pot-luck at the cabin.
Michael had to laugh when Isobel instantly bonded with Boots. He seemed to adore her, just like he did with Alex.
Buffy, on the other hand, was getting all the loving from Kyle on the floor. He was such a dog person. Then they both turned their attention to Christmas Vacation, where there were laughter and barking.
The roast they attempted to make was burned and a bit dry, but in the end, no one even cared. They were all together and that was what mattered.
Michael looked around the table and smiled. Max and Liz were clearly whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears—disgustingly so.
Maria and Isobel were in a conversation that seemed more like their usual banter. But if Michael didn’t know any better, he’d say there was a bit of flirting going on, which was what he had assumed was happening at the bar that day. Isobel kept eyeing the mistletoe hanging from the wooden arch in the cabin, and Maria did have that little gleam in her eye. Very curious.
Kyle was in another discussion about Star Trek being practically the same thing as Star Wars, and his love was getting all irritated, which Michael thought was amusing and cute as hell.
Halfway through dinner, Boots had jumped onto his lap as he always did when Michael and Alex were eating. The kitten, when taking a break from his hat, loves to curl up with them. It was a sense of security—one that Michael understood. It was the same feeling he felt when wanting Alex to hold him. To love someone and to be loved in return.
Alex had given Buffy a special dog bone for Christmas, and she seemed beyond happy and content as she munched on through.
Seeing everyone carefree and happy, made Michael’s heart swell. He had never had this. A group of friends that they had chosen to call family. It was a special moment, one he would cherish.
After everyone left, Michael spent the rest of the night kissing Alex all over his beautifully toned body. As they curled up in front of the crackling fire later on, with their four stockings hanging ever so perfectly, Michael knew he never wanted this to end.
He could lie here with Alex Manes for the rest of his life and be happy. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without their “toddlers.” Buffy was curled up in front of Alex as he rubbed her ears, both of them closing their eyes. Boots was, of course, lying again in his hat, but was still within reach.
He fell asleep with love dancing around his curls.
***
When Christmas morning arrived, there was snow falling from the sky.
Alex was humming “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” as Buffy happily pounced out in the snow; her inner puppy coming out to play. Boots was still eyeing the star at the top of the tree, hoping to just make it up. Before he could make a jump for it, Michael scooped him in his arms. Boots gave a grumpy meow, but soon was purring away as he stroked his soft white and black fur.
They enjoyed their black coffee and cinnamon rolls and went out to play in the snow with Buffy, who they couldn’t seem to get back into the cabin. Boots watched from the window but didn’t seem too bothered. He was busy washing himself looking rather content.
Finally, it was time to exchange gifts.
Buffy had finally come in when Alex had yelled treat! In her stocking, there were new chew toys and an alien stuffed animal that squeaked. She still worked on the bone from the night before; a very happy beagle indeed.
They had gotten Boots his own little cowboy hat to wear from Amazon. He wasn’t a fan, but they were able to get a few pictures to share with the group and get a good laugh. Making it up to him, they gave their little kitten a few catnip toys, a new scratch post with an area he could rest, even though Michael knew to just give up his hat by now, and some delectable chicken stuffed treats. It was purrfect.
Pausing to both laugh, Boots had crawled on top of Buffy and was playing with her ears. Buffy, the saint, didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Until she rolled over and Boots ended up on her belly. The two of them went together like peanut butter and jelly.
When it was time for their exchange, Michael ended up getting Alex a new leather jacket, which was just as much for his enjoyment as it was for Alex’s, a beautifully bound journal so Alex could start writing music again, and a picture of the two of them looking at each other smiling in a wooden frame. Liz had snapped the photo when they were all at the Crashdown Cafe one night.
“It definitely captures how much we love each other, doesn’t it?” Alex said with a warm smile, leaning over to share a kiss.
All of these gifts were fine and everything, but what he had really wanted to get Alex, Isobel quickly said it was too soon for. Well, nothing was too soon when you were with your one true love.
Alex had given him a few new shirts and murmured in his ear to keep them unbuttoned as he stroked his chest. Michael didn’t know if he could carry on opening his gifts, he wanted to open something else, but Alex pressed on. He had also given him several old books that were classics, including A Christmas Carol, one Michael had wanted to read since forever. After all, he too wanted to see what the big deal was.
When Michael leaned in to thank him, Alex pulled away to grab something else. It was a small wooden box in the shape of a cabin.
Michael looked up at him and Alex smiled. He twisted the roof of the house and there, lying in the box, was a key.
“Is this…?”
“Yes,” Alex answered. “Move in with me, Michael.” It wasn’t a question, it was a hopeful statement, one Michael clearly heard in his tone. “You’re practically here every day, and honestly, when you are here...I feel even more at home.”
Alex pointed to Buffy and Boots, “With them, here as well, this is our family. We belong together in this space.”
Michael was unable to form words, he was so moved.
“So what do you say, love?” Now Alex asked. “Will you two move in with us?”
Squeezing Alex’s hand, he leaned in and kissed his lips softly, “Yes, Boots and I would be honored to officially move in.”
Michael knew he needed to go back to that jeweler and get Buffy involved to help ask the question he wanted to ask. The forever-and-always one.
As they kissed, he smiled knowing that all he would ever want for Christmas, and all the days after that, was this. This tiny oasis they created within the wooden walls of this cabin.
So this was Christmas. He finally understood.
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“A Fresh Start” Part II
BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER! This one has actually been mostly done for a while, but I didn’t want to cut it off at the knees and life got busy before I could finish it. I’m hoping I’ll be able to start updating more regularly now that I have a little more spare time.
Part I
Part II
Kagome awoke to the sunlight streaming in across her face from the living room windows. Groaning, she shifted around a bit, trying to get comfortable again, but it was too bright in the apartment for her to have any hope of getting back to sleep. Finally admitting defeat, she gingerly sat up, realizing how sweaty she had become through the night. Her t-shirt clung to her like a second skin, and a hesitant sniff to her armpit revealed she was in desperate need of a shower. A quick check to her phone revealed that it was still well before 9am. She was appalled to note how hot the apartment had already become this early in the day.
‘Damn east facing windows,’ she noted, dragged herself off the couch and lumbering over to the pile of boxes she’d left by the bathroom door the night before. She snatched the little toiletry bag she had prepared off the top box before forcing a hand between the taped up flaps of cardboard, trying to pry the box open without having to bother with digging up her pocket knife. After a few minutes of fumbling and wriggling, she successfully yanked her hand free of the box with a fluffy yellow towel gripped in her fist. “Success!” Grinning lightly, she spun into the bathroom, humming to herself as she got into the shower and began getting ready for the day.
It was Saturday so the clinic wouldn’t be open. She and Sango had a plan to meet downstairs at 10:30 so she could familiarize herself with the space and start learning how it was run. The clinic was already staffed by Sango, Kaede, and two others to run the office who Kagome had yet to meet.
Sango was a physical therapist and certified nurse. She and Kagome had met when she was in medical school and Sango was doing her nursing training. The two had been very close for years, even through Sango’s meeting and eventual marriage to Miroku, and Kagome’s residency at a big hospital back in the city.
After Kagome had officially finished her training and received her medical license a month ago, she was thrilled to learn that the little clinic where Sango worked had an opening. Sango had been at the Shikon Clinic since a few months into their marriage, she and her husband decided to move back to his home town a few hours from the city so he could inherit his Uncle Mushin’s old bar. Kagome had instantly fallen in love with the quiet neighborhood and adorable work space when she had first visited Sango after the initial move two years ago.
When the opening came up she jumped at the chance of getting out of the noisy, crowded city she had inhabited for her entire life in favor of a more peaceful existence. Choosing to become a doctor had always been about helping people for her, but her residency had changed her definition of the job. Working in the city was all short visits with too many patients for too many hours a day. She always felt stressed and exhausted at the end of her days, like she hadn’t had the time necessary with her patients to really make an impact. Working in a small town meant she would get the chance to really know her patients, to make sure she could spend the time necessary to give them the best care she could. It was an ideal setup, since thanks to public transport she was still only a two hour train ride away from her family.
By the time she was ready to meet up with Sango, Kagome was practically buzzing with excitement. She couldn’t wait to start working as part of her very own practice. When her phone vibrated with a message announcing Sango’s arrival, Kagome burst from her front door, nearly bowling over Kaede as she was watering the plants beside her front door. She waved cheerily at the older woman, grinning widely, “Good morning, Kaede!”
“That it is, child. I hope you were comfortable enough in there last night.”
Kagome waved her hand idly to dismiss the other doctor’s concerns, “Oh it was just fine. The rest of my stuff should be delivered sometime today anyway, then I’ll be all set, I think. If not, I’ll just pick up some stuff at one of the great antique shops around here.”
“Oh good, good. Let me know if you do need any furniture, the boy from –” Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from down below.”
“Get a move on Kagome! Your coffee is getting cold!”
With a quick apology goodbye to Kaede, Kagome ambled down the stairs of her porch to meet Sango in the gravel lot behind the clinic. She grinned at the sight of her friend, leaning against the hood of her sedan with two to-go cups and a little brown bag clutched in her hands.
“Hiya girly! How’s your morning going?” Kagome asked, reaching to take the cup Sango offered. “Yes, coffee! Thank you!” Inhaling the warm, bitter scent, Kagome quirked a brow at her friend, “What, no treats for dear Doctor Tenaka?”
“Kaede hasn’t touched coffee since last century,” Sango replied, waving up at the older woman in question before Kaede disappeared back into her flat. “You’re chipper this morning. Glad to see sleeping on the couch didn’t stop you from resting up last night!” She pushed the paper bag at Kagome as well, “Here, it’s a muffin from Jinenji’s, you remember the little cafe I took you to last time you visited?”
“Ooh, the one run by the big guy who grows fruit and makes his own jam? Score!”
As Kagome tore into her breakfast, moaning appreciatively at the still warm and scrumptious snack, she and Sango proceeded into the clinic from the back entrance. They walked down a narrow hall, one of the two that ran through the building, until it met with the waiting room at the front. Pausing at the door that led to the little atrium and the very front door of the clinic, Sango began her tour, taking Kagome through the building in much greater detail than she had during her friend’s previous visits. She showed her the little office to the right of the front door, where the clinic’s two assistants did their administrative work, the larger exercise room where physical therapy patients did their exercises, and beyond that into the little office that they would be sharing. She demonstrated how to use the practice’s digital filing system, explained the intricacies of their medical supply storage and the quirks of some of the older exam equipment.
Kagome eagerly took it all in, laughing as Sango explained how to get the older-than-god copier to work and which of their assisting staff made the best cup of coffee. All the while she took diligent notes in a tiny green journal she’d shoved in her pocket before leaving the apartment. She wanted to make sure she knew everything she needed to come Monday, so she wouldn’t have to constantly ask Kaede and Sango for guidance and slow things down. She could hardly wait to start seeing patients. By the time Sango was finished going over the entire practice from top to bottom, golden late afternoon sunlight was filtering through every window in the front of the building.
“So, do you think you can remember all that?” Sango asked as the two women wandered out of the tiny staff kitchen towards the back exit. “We don’t typically get busy until mid-afternoon. That’s when a lot of patients are able to get off work to come in, so you’ll have most of the morning to get your bearings.”
“Oh sure. I’ve constantly had to change around my focus during residency rotations the last few years, I’m used to having to adjust to new working environments quickly. I think I’ll be alright.” Kagome assured her, preceding her friend out the door so she could lock up.
“Good, good,” Sango muttered as she secured the door. “Oh, that reminds me. I need to get a set of keys made for you! Meant to do it last week, damn pregnancy brain has me all over the place!”
“Speaking of, I can’t believe you managed to lecture me for almost 4 hours with pausing for a snack break. Want to go grab something to eat at the diner or something?
“Ooh, better idea! Let’s go see if Kaede has any goodies upstairs,” Sango suggested, already heading back towards the stairs to get up to the second level of the building. “I spend most of my lunch breaks with her now, and she always has something special hidden in that kitchen of hers.”
As Sango predicted, Kaede was only too happy to welcome the girls into her cramped, but homey little apartment, ushering them into the kitchen nook to sit at a window seat while she fussed about, making herbal tea, and setting out a little tray of sandwiches she had handy, as if expecting them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was well past noon when a pair of bleary, deep gray eyes opened to stare accusingly at the loudly beeping device screaming from the nightstand. A big hand darted over to the cellphone to silence the infernal sound, but only managed to knock the stupid thing to the floor. Growling in frustration, Inuyasha flopped his lower half over the side of the bed, patting around in search of the still blaring device. Just as his fingers found its cold surface, the disgruntled mass on the bed lost his battle with gravity, toppling to the ground himself.
“God fucking dammit,” he roared, then immediately regretted the volume of his outburst when his head pounded violently in protest. Gliding his thumb over the screen to end the racket coming from his phone, Inuyasha pressed it to his ear, snarling into the receiver, “What?”
“Watch that tone with me, young man,” a familiar brittle voice replied, “I’m calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow.”
Inuyasha heaved himself into a sitting position on the floor, leaning heavily against the bed frame at his back while he racked his addled brain to remember what the old bat was talking about. His prolonged silence pulled a sigh from the old woman on the line.
“The painting, Inuyasha. We agreed tomorrow you would come to paint my kitchen. Remember?”
“Right! Right, sorry Kaede. Must have slipped my mind,” a yawn split his mouth as he answered her.
“Boy, I better have not woken you up by calling. It is after 3 in the afternoon!” Her admonishing tone had him rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He could hear her outrage being echoed in the background. “Inuyasha, you bum! Come on!” he could hear Sango yelling.
“Uh no, no. I was just… napping. Needed a break.” That seemed to appease Kaede, as she wished him a good rest of his day, and they made a plan to meet at her place at 9am sharp tomorrow morning.
Once they had hung up, Inuyasha heaved a big sigh, taking in the state of his bedroom. The place was a mess, his clothing from last night left forgotten on the floor, his pants caught in the door jam. The usually neat dresser had all of its drawers thrown open, the contents on the floor, and there were a few photo albums tossed here and there, one with a stark white cover laying open amongst his bedding. There were two bottles of whiskey lying forgotten by his bed, one completely drained of the amber liquid, and the other open and half gone. The sight made him wince. It had been almost a year since he last lost it like this. He’d finally broken his good streak. Smacking his lips against the stale flavor left in his mouth from his little bender, Inuyasha rose to his feet, snatching the two liquor bottles up as he went. He froze as they clinked together obnoxiously, frowning, and then proceeded out of his room and down the hall into the kitchen.
First he carefully set the empty bottle into the recycling, then he stretched up high to place the other above the cabinets and well out of easy reach. Next he pulled open the cabinet by the fridge, rummaging around until he produced a bottle of tylenol and quickly dry swallowed two red pills before filling a glass of water at the sink to wash away the bitter taste. He leaned back against the counter next to the sink, refilling his glass and downing its contents twice more before sagging a bit in relief. That ought to help with the headache at least.
Looking around his little kitchen, Inuyasha was relieved to find that it and the living room beyond, visible through the open space between the island and overhanging cabinets, had been spared his bender. It was still as it had been when he’d first arrived home last night, a few dishes in the sink in need of washing but otherwise fairly clean. One less thing from him to worry about setting to rights. Wiping a hand down his face, he debated between tackling the mess he’d left in his bedroom, or having a shower first. ‘Might as well get the place clean before I clean up myself.’
He pushed off the counter, filled his glass one more time and proceeded back into the bedroom to start putting things away. He started by stuffing all the clothing back into his drawers, sniffing them as he went to avoid mixing his dirty laundry with his yet unworn stuff. As he went around the room, heaving furniture upright, replacing items strewn across the floor to their hiding places, he berated himself, so ashamed that he had ended up back here again. Admittedly it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it had been over three years. What could have caused him to lose it like this after so long?
Brown eyes in a face so foreign yet familiar flashed before his mind, turning his fingers slack around the book he’d just picked up. Her. Kagome. Sango’s friend who’d just moved in from the city. Could she possibly be the source of his turmoil?
Sure there was a resemblance, one strong enough to momentarily reduce him to a terrified, stuttering moron when he’d first leaned down to knock on her car window when he’d found her last night. But they were still different people. He knew that, even having only spent a few minutes. The similarities were more like seeing two vastly different images superimposed over one another than genuinely mirroring. She was shorter, softer, her hair wavy where another’s had been straight, her eyes light where another’s had been onyx pools.
He turned over a picture frame resting face down on the floor, the glass long destroyed during one of his past episodes. His thumb came up to caress the sweet face staring out of he photo within, swallowing past the pained lump the image produced in his throat. ‘I need to get a grip. This can’t keep happening. I-I have to let you go, Kikyo.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After hanging up the phone, Kaede turned back to the two young women seated in her breakfast nook, merrily munching on the sandwiches she had prepared in anticipation of Sango’s midafternoon cravings.
“So, Inuyasah is helping you redo the kitchen Kaede?” Sango asked, as she came to sit across from them at the table, picking up her abandoned cup of tea.
“Just adding a new coat of paint to the walls and cabinets. I think the place could use a little sprucing up, don’t you?” Kaede confirmed, taking a sip of tea and reaching for the bowl of candied orange peels resting beside her well-loved teapot.
“That’s so nice of him. What colors are you thinking about going with?” Kagome interjected. She was intrigued to learn that the beautiful, taciturn man from yesterday seemed to have a soft spot for the old doctor.
“Yes, Inuyasha is a sweet boy. Rough around the edges, but sweet. I’m honestly not sure what to do. I painted the cabinets this blue a few years ago on a whim, and as you can see I didn’t do the best job,” Kaede replied, gesturing to a few spots where the paint was too thin and the old wood varnish was visible beneath. “I didn’t even bother to sand them first. Inuyasha was not pleased. He says he’ll have to take all the cabinet faces off to sand them down and paint properly.”
“Wow, that’s a big job for one person! Are you sure you guys won’t need any help?” Kagome asked, “I’m pretty handy and right next door! I really wouldn’t mind helping out tomorrow. I need to be around anyway, for the movers. They’re supposed to be coming between 1 and 5 tomorrow. This will give me something to do besides waiting around!”
“Well, if you’re sure dear…” Kaede was a touch hesitant about the idea. She wasn’t certain Inuyasha would be receptive to Kagome’s involvement in their little project. The eager look on the girl’s face, along with Sango’s expectant expression, made her finally relent. “Alright. Inuyasha and I are leaving for the paint store at –”
“9am sharp! So I heard,” Kagome interjected with a grin.
“Wait, Kagome. I thought your stuff was supposed to be coming today,” Sango asked, swiping another fish salad sandwich off the plate. They’d been her favorite pregnancy snack since she’d first hunted the smell down in Kaede’s office a month ago. The good natured old woman had been making them for her almost daily since.
“Yeah, so did I,” Kagome shrugged. “There was some issue with an earlier delivery. They called like an hour ago and said they had to delay. It’s no biggy.”
“Flakey moving bastards,” Sango groused, slamming her tea down a little too hard, splashing the table in amber liquid.
“Down girl!” Kagome laughed, sopping up the mess with her napkin. “I don’t mind. Really!”
“Ooh, Sorry Kaede. Same old Kagome. You’re such a softy.” Sango grabbed her phone to wipe it off as well, startled when the screen illuminated to show the time. “Ooh, crap. Kagome! It’s almost 4. I have to get going. I have some errands I still need to run before dinner. Wanna come with?”
“Sure, but I don’t want to stick Kaede with the clean up,” Kagome said, downing the rest of her tea but hesitating to rise from the table as she eyed the mess their lunch had made of Kaede’s little kitchen.
“No trouble, my child. Go with Sango, I can take care of it,” Kaede replied, smiling as Sango struggled to get out of the dining nook with her massive baby belly.
“Are you sure?” Kagome asked, slowly beginning to stand, her hands hovering around the tabletop covered in plates and tea cups. Kaede waved her off, shooing her towards the door.
“Kaede, would you like to come have dinner with us tonight? We’re meeting Miroku later,” Sango asked, finally pulling free of the cramped sitting area.
“Thank you dear, but not tonight. I think I’d like to relax here. Read, feed my cats,” Kaede declined, taking the dirty dishes to the sink herself.
“Alrighty then. Well, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, Kaede!” Sango said, pulling the door open.
“Bye! And thanks again for lunch!” Kagome called over her shoulder, hurrying to help Sango down the deck stairs. Kaede smiled quietly at the girls’ exuberance, watching their slow descent from the threshold. ‘Maybe spending some time around such a bright soul will be good for Inuyasha.’ Breaking from her musings, she turned back to setting her kitchen to rights, leaving her door open to let in the summer breeze.
As Kagome supported Sango on her way down to the car, since the latter woman couldn’t see much of her feet around her baby bump, she asked, “Wait, Kaede has cats? I didn’t see anyone around the apartment.”
“She feeds the local strays. They come flocking at sunset, especially at this time of year,” Sango puffed. She paused as they reached the bottom of the steps to stretch a little. “So,” she began, sliding a sly look Kagome’s way, “You jumped at the chance to pal around with Inuyasha tomorrow.”
“What? I did not! I just wanted something to do, since I’ll be bored anyway!” she protested.
“Kagome, you and I both know how much unpacking you still need to do,” this had said girl blushing, “And I saw how you looked at him last night before he left! I get it, he’s cute!”
“Cute doesn’t begin to cover it,” Kagome sighed, “But that is NOT why I volunteered to help. It’s a nice thing he’s doing for Kaede and he really saved me last night. I want to return the favor!”
“And then some,” Sango teased back.
“You’ve been living with Miroku too long,” Kagome deadpanned, “And why haven’t I met Inuyasha before anyway. He clearly knows you, and Miroku AND Kaede! Where have you been hiding this hunk?”
That made Sango wince, because she knew Kagome was kind of right. It was a little ridiculous that even though her old roommate had visited almost a dozen times since she had moved to this town, Sango had never introduced her to Miroku’s best friend. She sighed, waddling over to her car and pulling open her car door, slipping in and waiting for Kagome to do the same. Her sudden shift in attitude had Kagome looking at her in bewilderment.
“The truth is, you’re right. You should have met Inuyasha before. I’ve known him since the first time Miroku brought me here. He was actually supposed to be the best man in our wedding,” Sango confessed, fiddling with her keys before finally putting them in the ignition.
This revelation confused Kagome even more, “Wait, he’s the best man that needed to be replaced last minute? Miroku’s childhood best friend?” Sango nodded.
“So what happened? All you ever said was something terrible happened and he needed to pull out. Then you moved and never brought him up again.”
“Yeah,” Sango agreed, “because it wasn’t my business to tell. Inuyasha, he’s been through a lot in the last few years. It’s not really for me to say. He wasn’t the most social person to begin with, but now… He doesn’t really see anyone. Just Miroku and Kaede and me.” Sango shook herself, finally getting the car into gear to head out of the gravel parking lot. Before she started to back up, she turned to back Kagome, a serious look on her face. “ Tomorrow, go easy. He’s not exactly an easy person to get to know.”
“O-Okay. I promise. No attempts to make plans for a slumber party and hair braiding,” Kagome teased, trying to lighten the somber mood. But Sango didn’t laugh, just proceeded to get the car moving. Kagome pulled on her seatbelt with a frown, feeling more puzzled than she had been at the start of this conversation. Sango spoke about Inuyasha like he was delicate, unstable even. But the person she’d met yesterday, though admitted quiet, had seemed normal enough. ‘Guess I’ll just have to see what happens tomorrow.’
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Thanks it for Part II! I hope you guys like it! Feel free to let me know if anyone else would like to be tagged on updates.
@itzatakahashi
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Spooky Little Stories - Halloween special series (Tale II - Ubbe)
Pairing: Modern!Ubbe x OFC
Description: in this Halloween special series you’ll follow five tales, which one of them with a different Ragnarsson and a different pairing! A group of five friends travel to Kattegat in the last week of October to see if what people tell of that little town is true…
Every week a new chapter!
Warnings: swearings.
Word count: 2,214
A/N: due to Tumblr’s links problems, I’m not going to put here the link for my masterlist and my ask, but you all can keep up with the link for my masterlist in my bio!
No one seemed particularly bothered by last night’s events - except for me -, and Sam’s injury was, nonetheless, gone.
Like if it was magic.
Like if it was never there.
I cannot tell if it was a vision, if I was more drunk than I thought, and as I’m not one for Halloween, then definitely I’m not one for magical shit. But how else can I explain such a thing? Because, when I was considering that maybe I was indeed drunk and seeing things, I looked down at my thighs, where I tried to clean Sam’s blood out of my hands, and it was there, dry and dark, almost imperceptible.
When Halston woke up I tried to ask her in the most discreet way about last night, but all I received was “Sam’s a brat, nothing happened.”
Interesting fact: Sam’s blood was nowhere expect on me, which was pretty much a fucked up thing.
At 10 AM Bjorn showed up, telling us the guideline for today, but I wasn’t in the mood to stroll around with that guy in this place. I tried to make some eye contact with all of my friends, trying to see if anyone was down for an exploration by ourselves in downtown. Jule seemed to be a bit bothered by Bjorn’s lineup, so it was for her that I went.
“Down for some field research?” I asked.
“And by that you mean…?” She whispered.
“We could visit downtown by ourselves, maybe ask a couple of things…”
“What kind of things? Why?”
“I don’t know, this place is weird; don’t you think?” Jule took some time to respond, which made me think that she wouldn’t say a thing at all. She nodded.
“It’s curious, that’s how I can put it. Do you think it would be okay for us to split the group?”
“I don’t think the girls would care, sincerely, and Bjorn can’t force us to go with him more deep into the woods - by the way, what the fuck there’s there, anyway?, that he wants to show us so bad?”
“More Viking History?”
“Maybe. This place would be a goldmine for historians.”
“For people who believe in scary shit, too,” I can say that I felt something else in her tone, but I didn’t want to ask right away.
And so I announced our separation in this evening’s events and, surprise!, no one really cared. Bjorn seemed to be a little suspicious, but who am I to care about what that guy thinks?
*
Kattegat’s downtown was something between a little town from the 60s mixed up with a couple of modern elements, just to reassure that this was the year of 2019. It was so calm and desert that got me a little depressed, like if we were in the beach during winter.
Of course that me and Jule weren’t the only ones walking around the streets, but it was far more “empty” than I expected.
“Wanna buy something?” I pointed to some boutiques, but Jule didn’t seem interested.
“Souvenirs from this place? I don’t think so.”
“I thought you were excited to come here.”
“And I was, until last night.”
“Yeah, last night… it was something, but I guess it was a normal thing.”
“It wasn’t a normal thing,” Jule said very categorical, making me take a mental note.
“There’s not really much to see, huh?” Jule said after some time when I was already feeling tired of walking and cursing myself.
“Let’s see if we can find a good place so I don’t feel completely idiot and useless because of this idea,” I said out of my temper, trying to spot a good place.
And, as if some kind of great force had listened to me, there it was, right in front of us, a couple of blocks away - a bar. It was obviously closed, I didn’t even need to read the “closed” sign in the front door to know, but I could see through the windows and the dim light inside that there were people in there.
I grabbed Jule by her hand and went to the bar, opening the front door - that wasn’t locked, by the way.
“Get the fuck hell out of here!” Said the man behind the counter, throwing a towel to another man on the back door, but he couldn’t be seen - he was already gone.
“Excuse me…” Jule started and the man turned.
He was tall, strong, tanned, blonde with blue eyes - and pretty much like Bjorn, I’m afraid to say, even though there was still something different between them.
“Bar’s closed, ladies,” he said gently, but yet fierce.
“We know, but we’re just wondering if you don’t mind if we…”
“Asked a couple of things? Maybe?” I completed Jule’s sentence. The man raised an eyebrow, got a towel, three glasses and started cleaning them, tossing them on the counter. I grabbed mine and Jule almost lost hers.
“How can someone say no?” He said in a flirty tone, and all of a sudden I regretted my choices - but Jule didn’t seem to be bothered by the man’s attempt.
“Can we first know your name, please?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry. It’s Ubbe. And you are…?”
“Jule,” Jule said her name quickly.
“Ella,” I said mine not so enthusiastically.
“Tourists, I suppose,” Ubbe said, grabbing a bottle of whiskey.
“Just spending the Halloween’s week,” Ubbe raised an eyebrow - again -, but this time in curiosity; maybe even in judgement. Blue eyes never lie.
“Why would you come all the way here just for that?”
“And that is why we’re here for,” I said, meaning our presence at the bar at this hour of the day and our will to talk to him.
“Oh,” he said, showing way too much understanding of the situation. “You want me to start or do you want to find yourselves?” Ubbe took a sip of his whiskey. Jule didn’t touch hers - she wasn’t one for whiskey. I followed Ubbe.
“Maybe you could start at telling us what are the tales, exactly, and why do they exist. You know, every tale has a root - there’s this house in Los Angeles that was built by a doctor who was really a creepy, and lots of shit happened there, so obviously the house has the reputation of being haunted.”
“I understood, yeah. Well, I think our main shit is werewolves,” Ubbe started, supporting his elbows on the counter, looking at some point near the ceiling, behind us. “I cannot really say why it is, but it all leads to Fenrir.”
“Fenrir?” Jule asked.
“Loki’s child, you know? Norse Mythology?” Jule nodded. “My father always said that our family descended from Odin,” Ubbe said in a tone and looked at us to make sure that we knew who Odin was. “The All-Father,” he said to Jule. “But this town not only has Odin’s blood - it has Fenrir’s blood as well.”
“I don’t find a sense to this,” I said, getting a petty look from Ubbe. “No; really! I have no idea where you wanna get. Fenrir? Odin? Your ancestry? The next thing you’ll gonna tell is about the Ragnarok.”
“How do you know that?” I rolled my eyes. “The tales say that Ragnarok isn’t really what the old Norse folk thought it was. Of course it was the end of times, but the end of times mean people turning into werewolves, descended directly from Fenrir. They meant to be the most brutal, violent and bloody creatures, right before Fenrir himself. The end of times meant the rise of monsters.”
“So you’re saying…” I tried to get a conclusion.
“Ragnarok happened,” Ubbe took another sip from his glass. I laughed.
“So Ragnarok happened and Ragnarok is a bunch of werewolves?”
“Brutal creatures,” Ubbe said in a mocking tone. I was laughing with him, but it was only a momentary thing, because I looked at Jule and she was so pale that I thought she would faint. Last night’s events came to my mind.
“Can I have a glass of water? I don’t think Jule here feels so good,” I put my hand on Jule’s back, just to be careful and ready in case she falls. Ubbe brought a glass of cold water and Jule sat on the chair by the counter. She was slightly getting better. “Is there a… more realistic version of it?” I got back to the subject.
“You mean a more realistic explanation for werewolves?” I could feel the sarcasm in the air, coming so close. But Ubbe only shrugged. “Fenrir is back on his chains, Tyr still lost his hand and all the werewolves are running free. The old Norse folk were very… strong-believers in their religion. It just passed through generations. People just believed that this was truth, that it was the truth. Not many people are willing to dig it more deep.”
Ubbe touched Jule’s wrist with the tip of his fingers, asking through gestures if she was okay. She nodded and thanked for the water.
“Why’d you said that about Odin? What does he have to do with all of that?”
“Oh…” Ubbe seemed uncomfortable. “Nothing, it was just… In the old Ragnarok tale, they said that Odin was consumed by Fenrir, but we don’t know what happened to him in the werewolves’ tale. It was never said.”
“Maybe he became one,” Jule said. “Maybe he’s the leader of the pack.”
“Are you okay, Jule?” I asked.
“You’re Bjorn’s brother, aren’t you? I can tell the resemblance. And the name of the bar - same as the old village’s. Camp’s too.”
And that I wasn’t ready for - Jule turned out to be a better detective than I am.
“Yes, we… we’re brothers. Did something happened? You don’t seem… I don’t know…” It was obvious that Ubbe was feeling the same that me and Jule felt about Bjorn.
“Bjorn just scared us last night, it was nothing. Typical guy thing,” I said before Jule could say anything else, since she wasn’t looking very pleasant and I didn’t want to sound to Ubbe like those scared little tourists who thought they were seeing shit.
“I was supposed to help there this week, but I had some errands here that needed my attention. I thought it would be all okay there,” Ubbe meant the camp, but I was so sure that there was something else in all of this story.
“He got laid with our friend last night and thought it would be cool to give her a jumpscare in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. I almost had a heart attack,” and so Jule said.
“Wait, so it was only Bjorn there?” Ubbe asked. We nodded. “Stupid piece of shit,” he slammed the glass against the counter. “Bjorn wasn’t supposed to be there all alone.”
“Why? Is that a problem? Is it so serious?” I asked, suddenly worried as hell.
“My brother - our brother - Hvitserk was supposed to back up Bjorn,” Ubbe noticed the concern in my face. “But...” He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing serious. It’s just… I kinda got in charge of things when our father died, and Bjorn seems to ignore that and all of my younger brothers too. I just try to keep this place all held up. You see, we got a lot of business around, it’s a lot to take care.”
“Does any of your brothers help?” Jule asked, carefully.
“Only one, but he’s always absent. He makes things on his own way. It helps, but I would be more grateful if I knew what was happening, and how. I’m tired of taking care of brats.”
Jule touched Ubbe’s hand and, when I saw it, I couldn’t believe it, but Ubbe’s expression went immediately from extremely angry to very calm. His eyes were cloudy blue and his face was no longer red.
*
“This all smells weird,” Jule said the moment we got out of the bar. “His family descends from Odin, then Odin is consumed by Fenrir, that happens to turn humans to werewolves. What would you think, in the first place?” Jule was walking fast, gesturing wildly. “Bjorn’s his brother, Ella. I know you saw what I saw,” I stopped. Jule stopped ahead me, turning back.
“The blood,” I said.
“The injury.”
“You saw that too.”
“Yeah, I saw, and I’m freaking out. I have no idea how all those facts from Ragnarshit connect, but somehow they do, and it’s obvious that Bjorn isn’t normal, and probably Ubbe too.”
“But you liked him,” Jule was caught out off guard.
“I can tell that he’s different. He doesn’t like Bjorn.”
“It doesn’t mean…”
“Yeah, it doesn’t, but it does mean that he’s different.”
“So, just to be completely sure, and take note that I’m afraid of sounding stupid, but I really need to know.”
“What?”
“That you’re saying…” I gave Jule the chance to continue for me.
“I’m saying that I believe in the werewolf tale. I’m saying that I believe in all of that, even Odin’s ancestry.”
“And…?”
“And I’m concluding that Bjorn is a werewolf, and so all of his brothers.”
Taglist: @mblaqgi @akamaiden @dangerousvikings @oddsnendsfanfics @deepdarkred @irishhiggins @tinypuppysoul @kingbouji3 @i-war-s-boner @capitanostella @loothbrok @noaor @thehuntress26 @sassymcgonagal1651 @hoodirwin5 @attorneyl @collecting-stories @certainobservationwasteland @dreams-in-different-colours @3x5gurl @readsalot73 @action-adventure-and-cheesecake @titty-teetee @cutiedaij @austenkingmylady @ivarthesweetheart @golden-pickaxe @lokis-sunflower-anna @bill-istvan @cynthianokamaria @slut4hazeleyes @chinduda @hallowed-heathen @cherryblossombaby69 @paintballkid711 @bisexual-dane @fuckthatfeeling @youbloodymadgenius @huffelpuffers
#ubbe ragnarsson#ubbe's wolfpack#ubbe fic#modern ubbe#ubbe ragnarsson fic#ubbe lothbrok#ubbe lothbrok fic#vikings fanfic#vikings fic#modern vikings#elle writes
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1, 8, 9, 16
1. How’d you form as a system?
in… I think it was 2013, Evan discovered the concept of tulpas, and within like a day was like “oh this sounds cool as fuck, time to create an entire person in my head” and that’s how Jade happened! and then literally two months later Jade was like “we need another friend” and Evan was like “yeah okay” and together we made Ollie. and for a few years it was just the three of us, but uh fun fact, once your brain learns how to make extra people, it gets a lot easier for that to happen, and so one day a couple weeks into Evan writing an ATLA fanfic Zuko just kinda showed up fully formed and verbal. we seem to gain a new systemmate once every couple of years, though it’d probably be more if Evan were less resistant to new systemmates showing up, but we do not need every fictional character I ever get obsessed with hanging out with us, ok? ok.
8. How complex is your mindscape? Does your system even use it? Do you even have one to begin with?
we definitely don’t use the mindscape/wonderland nearly as much as we did when we first started out - Evan and Jade created a little gazebo (always called it a pavilion tho) and it had a couch that folded out into a bed and that was where we spent most of our time in the really early days. later we expanded out into a whole island, we had a house and Ollie had a beach house and we had a nice little spot on the beach that was surrounded by cliffs, and there was a spot in the forest by a river that was Jade and Evan’s special spot, all around it was really nice.
later on, around the time Markus first appeared, the mindscape expanded into an entire planet, kinda floating in a bubble universe in between various fictional worlds. it’s called Perception - i think that happened after a comment Zuko made about there being a lot of perceptive people there? dunno, it made sense at the time. it was created because of an instability in the multiverse, involving some shenanigans featuring Aang and the Twelfth Doctor and various others, but it’s stable now. various fictional characters pass through from time to time, and it’s a safe space where we can hang out and play music and talk to people. most of the people who pass through don’t know the true nature of Perception, and most of them don’t remember it as anything more than a dream when they return to their own worlds, though there are a few inner-worlders, not part of the main system, who are In The Know, like Aang.
also sometimes we will visit other universes, typically whatever fictional world is the current special interest, and hang out and generally get up to Adventures and Shenanigans. it’s fun.
9. Is making major decisions that affects the whole system hard? Who argues a lot when discussing major changes?
hoo boy. uh. who wants to take this one?
Jade: Evan is really resistant to change. We - don’t argue, exactly, because no one - we don’t want to argue, but sometimes I do kind of try to persuade Evan to think more about the system - we’ve talked about doing sort of designated co-fronter days, because I do know that Evan worries that they focus too much on Zuko -
Zuko: Rude.
Jade: - and not enough on, say, Ollie or Alex sometimes. We haven’t really implemented that, though, since Evan and honestly all of us are kind of exhausted most of the time, and this - that’s the kind of thing that requires planning and sit-down conversations and we just haven’t been very good at that lately.
Markus: Well said, Jade, good job, and good job Evan for proxying, I know we’re, you’re tired after talking about Perception and all. We, I do think that all of us are concerned with what Evan thinks about things since - no, write this down - since they’re the host and they’re kind of the center of the system, they really are and we’re pretty invested in taking care of them. They feel weird about it sometimes and sometimes they have moments, even now, where they have doubts about whether the rest of us really exist, but.
Zuko: What was the question again?
Evan: *laughing*
Markus: Stop. Anyway - are we - do we wanna talk about?
Jade: I think so.
Evan: If it’s okay with her? Yeah, and I do think you should be the one to say this, Markus, if you want to?
Markus: Yeah. Yeah. Soo we’ve recently - I guess you could say we’ve recently acquired a new system member.
Zuko: The emphasis on acquired - you, you make it sound like we stole her!
Markus: Shhhhh. Okay. Basically, we noticed her starting to form, and we - Evan was concerned, like always, they’re always nervous about new people, so we did have to stop and kind of talk about it. And it took us a few days, but I do think we were kind of in agreement, that yeah, we wanted this new person.
Zuko: We were definitely a little worried if now was the best time, we talked about our options,
Markus: I distinctly remember saying “No making major life decisions at 3 am.”
Evan: Yeah, you said that.
Zuko: But at the same time we were all kind of excited, you know? The last one who showed up was Alex and that was three years ago, he was like me with the whole fanfic origin story, and Evan fought against him for the longest time.
Alex: Just - hi - just butting in here, I believe the original arrangement was that I would stay - laughing - I would stay until Evan and I finished writing my fanfic, and then I would go back home to my universe and my happy ending. And that was three years ago, and we never finished the fanfic.
Evan: Oops.
Zuko: Guys, we’re going off on so many tangents here. But we were kind of excited, you know, to sort of nurture this new person and create them together.
Evan: I did - what was it? I remember thinking, why do I always get so excited whenever outside friends get new system members, but with us it’s a source of dread? So I’m trying to change my attitude on that a little.
This got very longer than expected, and also proxying is exhausting. Mostly we used this question as an excuse to talk about our new girl, this is the first time we’ve talked about her outside of just between us, actually. Perhaps if she wants to we’ll do a proper introduction later. Fortunately I wrote the answer to the next question before starting on this one.
16. Do any of your systemmates display unique talents whenever in front? If yes, what talent and how good are they at it?
so uh, actually we aren’t… able to switch? so I, Evan, am the only one who ever fronts. Markus and Zuko can sometimes help me out when I’m having a shutdown or a panic attack though, by kinda co-fronting and walking me through whatever it is I need to do just then (Markus calls this ‘dad mode’)
#queerhollyleaf#evan speaks#the system#radiance#the uss radiant#jade evergreen#ollie perry#zuko grayson#markus arana#why are these popular tags??#system things#perception#alex henderson#merax emberwood#oh thank god that one's not a tag#jade speaks#zuko speaks#markus speaks#alex speaks#ask meme#ask#long post
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Today I am going to talk about two things that are really close to my heart but firstly I want to apologise for posting after such a long time. I am still getting hang of things and trying to find my footing in the world of blogging while trying not to overthink every post I try to write. Moving on, the two things I am about to talk about are not just close to my heart but they made me into who I am as a person today. Lupus and Books.
I was barely a teenager when I was diagnosed with the Lupus and this is 2003 december that I am talking about. 27th December if we want to be precise. Internet was not what it is now. Not many people were aware of the disease. Hell, no one had heard the name of this disease. We hadn’t. The doctors barely knew about how to treat this. Even with today’s technology and awareness there are patients out there who are either misdiagnosed or not treated with the right medication so you can imagine how it was around 15 years ago.
I remember it so vividly. We had a school trip to Jaipur in November first week and it had been the best trip of my life and I was still on a high from that trip when I developed a fever. Obviously no one took it seriously thinking I over exerted or maybe it was a viral but it wouldn’t go down so all the routine check ups were done and all my bloods were clear. No one knew what was happening. For over a month I had this fever which just came down suddenly. It was gone and I was back to school thanking my stars and catching up with friends. Who was crushing on whom? Bunking classes to prepare a dance performance, entering my name in all curricular activities I could get my hands on. This 12 year old Sana loved school. She would reach half an hour early just so she could hang out with her friends and chill. This is the same Sana who loves sleep and would actually marry a bed if she could.
Unfortunately that spell of good health broke and I had two really swollen joints. I could barely move my hand. My wrist was twice its size which is when my pediatrician suggested I need to go to a doctor who was good at diagnosing stuff because she thought it was a multiple organ disease and she didn’t want to treat me for the wrong ailment. Everyone just assumed it was arthritis considering my mom and Nani both had this disease but we waited for the test results impatiently. I wanted to get back to my normal life and be rid of the pain. Christmas was coming and I was not going to miss the celebrations at school. I wanted to part of the show children were putting on. My parents on the other hand were thinking about the long term effect this was going to have on me. The over excited 12 year old hadn’t really grasped at the fact that this was going to be a long term disease. A chronic illness, a term I had never even heard.
Long story short I was diagnosed with Lupus and my world turned upside down(Lupus in simplest of simplest explanation is your immunity attacking your body instead of protecting you for those who don’t know about it and want to know more please feel free to message me on Insta or twitter. Both links are at the bottom of the page) I didn’t realise the gravity of the situation until much later which I am thankful for because otherwise I would have been a wreck. I didn’t have a phone and google on my fingertips to tell me the worst case scenarios. When I actually sit down and think about that time I don’t think I really understood what was happening and was taking one day at a time. This sana was hopeful and always smiling. Bright ray of sunshine no matter what. Everyone thinks I am brave because of how dealt with it all when in reality I was a really confused kid.
One of the medications given to treat lupus is steroids. It kills your immunity so it doesn’t attack your body but it is also leaving you vulnerable to getting anything and everything which is why I had to stay at home for six months. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order from doctor and something my parents refused to contradict. Doc’s word is the law in my house. She is basically my second mom. What steroid also does is that you gain weight. You are hungry all the fucking time and then you gain weight. I gained around 15-20 kgs and I had to sneak out and go to the medical room to have a midday meal. It also damages your bones. Basically part of your bones stop receiving blood and because of that there are dead patches in the bones. It usually happens after a really long term use of steroids but I got it within like six months.
My friends who had last seen me in November were in shock. Some people didn’t even recognize me. I went from 45 kgs to 60 and I was in crutches. I wasn’t the active girl anymore, dancing and volunteering or even talking. I had gone into my shell and no one tried to even understand what I was going through. I was an outsider. Alone. No one wanted to hangout with me and that was a new experience for me. Unknown territory. I had always been confident person but after everything I had become shy and nervous and the friends I had didn’t really make an effort to be my friends.
That one day changed everything. I used to read before that but never seriously. It was rare and it was just harry potter. My mom noticed this change in me and we had a talk about everything. I told her how the best friends had vanished. Everyone had vanished. It had reached the level where I used to eat alone during lunch in an empty classroom because everyone went out and I couldn’t climb down two floors with crutches throughout the day.
My mom just told me to read more. She told me people are going to come and leave specially with me because of my issues but books? There are always going to be books around. They will never leave you. You can take them with you wherever you want and those words kind of just hit a mark. This is when I actually started reading. I talked to my librarian at school and when I couldn’t go in for a long spell my mom would go and collect a bunch of books for me to read while I was stuck in bed.
That was just the beginning of reading books obsessively (I remember staying up during my 12th board exam to finish reading twilight. Don’t give me that look! We have all been into the twilight hole). I would read every second I could get. It was an escape I hadn’t realized I needed. I could be in Hogwarts while I was hospitalized? How could it get any better, right? I found a passion in something I didn’t ever think was for me and I owe it to not only my mom but also my English teacher I had at that time. She was always encouraging when it came down to reading and writing. Yes, the books lead me to writing opening another whole new world for me that I didn’t know existed. I was talking to people from around the world. Finally people who were there. They weren’t judging me or starting rumours about how I am faking it all for attention or telling me I was depressing. Yes, someone told me that. A school friend. Someone I considered a really close friend of mine. I think we were around 24 and she said we don’t invite you to things because talking to you is depressing and we wanted to enjoy ourselves. Again, proving that books were more loyal than humans. Actually they are better than humans. Period.
I know its difficult to be friends with someone who is always cancelling plans or cant go out and asks the other person to come over. Sometimes they are bitchy too but can you blame them? They are fighting a battle with their own body every single fucking. Can you blame me? Everyone you meet always says they understand but they truly don’t because by the time they understand they are already running away in the opposite direction.
Books don’t run away to begin with, they take you not just around the world but to worlds that don’t exists. To universe that is so vast and to make you dream. Books dare you to dream, they give you hope,too. For a better tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day. Am I right or am I right?
Pick up a book and show it some love guys. If you don’t enjoy reading then you just haven’t found your book. Just don’t ever stop looking!
Happy book hunting!
Sana
My Love Affair with Books Today I am going to talk about two things that are really close to my heart but firstly I want to apologise for posting after such a long time.
#about me#anxiety#books#depression#hair goals#lupus#Lupus Awareness#mermaid hair dont care#ombre#personal#writing
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BnHA Chapter 115: Hard-Boiled Villain Antics
Previously on BnHA: The provisional license exam concluded. Everyone from class 1-A passed except Todoroki and Bakugou. The exam committee announced there would be a special training course for the ones who failed, and they would then receive their licenses as well. They want all the students who made it to phase two of the exam to ultimately succeed because with All Might gone, the world needs as many quality heroes as it can get. The U.A. kids said their farewells to the other schools and prepared to board the bus home. Deku inquired about the weird girl from Shiketsu Academy and was told she had already left, and that furthermore she’d been acting strange for the last few days. We then learned that the girl, Camie, had actually been Toga in disguise, and that she has a shapeshifting quirk which allows her to take on others’ appearances once she drinks their blood. Oh, and. Now she has Deku’s.
Today on BnHA: We take a break from our intrepid hero hatchlings to check in with Twice from the League of Villains. He stares broodingly out the window like a noir character, listens to the news talk shit about Endeavor, watches a group of Tarantino tribute villains rob a store, and gets a phone call from the villain broker Giran. We learn that the League has temporarily split up and are recruiting to expand their organization. We also learn that Twice has more than a few screws loose, the reason being that when he was younger he used his duplication quirk to clone himself, only to have the clones all murder each other one by one until he was the last one standing. If that isn’t fucked up enough for you, perhaps I can interest you in the new villain introduced in this chapter, who goes by “Overhaul” and has a penchant for dismembering peeps. Or perhaps you’re more a fan of the classic villain, in which case the chapter ends with All Might meeting up with our old friend All for One, so, you know. Enjoy that.
(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 151 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)
who the fuck is this
he’s staring darkly out of his window and hating all the people he sees walking past
but also there’s a black speech bubble thinking the exact opposite. “I think it’s fantastic”
is this that Twice guy, maybe
I was wondering what you were up to, yes. good catch there
“THIS MAN STARTS HIS MORNINGS A LITTLE MORE HARD-BOILED THAN MOST.” yes, the really hardcore way to start your day is to hate people from windows
holy shit this ominous fucking chapter! right from the get go!
“unleashed.” and the text underneath: “a world where All Might is not coming”
I’m thinking it’s safe to say the villains are winding down from their little break
I’m so curious how Tomura is doing. prediction: still crazy
the narration is saying that the news networks and Internet are constantly buzzing with “idle chatter fanning the flames of anxiety”
jesus christ this is so similar to the real-world climate in the last few years. anxiety and fear-mongering
oh shit the newspeople are talking about Endeavor
depends on whether you’re the type who can accept assholes who beat their wife and kid
(I personally am not)
they’re being really polite about it, but they’re saying that you can’t help but contrast him against All Might
he’s “coarse”
“he just looks like an ordinary person pretending to be a superhuman” I’ll take it a step further; he looks like an asshole not even trying particularly hard to pretend he’s a nice guy. and yeah, he’s strong, but not even in the same realm that All Might was
oh my god it’s a list of top “Moogle” searches for Endeavor. this is the most 2010s shit I’ve ever seen in a manga omggggg
yeahhhh, public opinion is just not on this guy’s side. and good riddance
basically he’s become “the symbol of weakening heroes.” exactly. I feel like all these people must just be like, “is this really the best we can do now omg”
is Endeavor Donald fucking Trump
this is one of the best chapter openers I can recall reading in a long time. there’s something fascinating about watching a well-established fictional world get shaken up and seeing how the people of that world respond. it’s reminding me a little of the post-Goblet of Fire Harry Potter universe. and why do I have a feeling that by the time this series ends, we’ll have progressed all the way to Deathly Hallows in terms of grittiness
the narration is continuing and saying that just as All Might brought hope to everyday citizens, his presence was a curse to villains
and now that curse has been lifted, so “it’s no surprise at all that it’d turn out this way”
and it’s showing some guy robbing an ATM or something. not sure what he’s carrying, but anyways he’s busting through a wall looking happy and deranged
now a pro hero is showing up to stop him
but another villain is cracking the back of the hero’s head with a huge metal pipe
and two more villains are waiting over by their getaway truck
nice Tarantino reference there. bold and unsubtle and in-your-face
and the narration is talking about how villains are feeling more emboldened and more free to run around without fear of consequence. and that the more daring they get, the more villains they inspire in turn, and it goes on and on. “running a red light isn’t scary if everyone does it with you”
we’re seeing the exact same thing happen irl nowadays with racists and nazis and the alt-right and such, aren’t we. my escapist manga is really starting to hit close to home here
now Twice is getting a call from someone
isn’t this the guy who introduced Toga and Dabi to Tomura
damn, manga, you’re really going to make me go all the way back to like chapter sixty-something to check this. fine
yep, it is. chapter 68
he says that in the past two weeks there’s been a surge of black market requests for things like suits and related items
he says it’s all thanks to the League of Villains
really it’s thanks to one specific villain that did all the work and is now imprisoned though. just saying. though no doubt he won’t mind Tomura getting the credit
anyway so Twice is asking why the broker guy called him
probably cuz Toga got Deku’s blood, so now the gang is getting back together to hatch some more schemes
yep
so Twice is like yeah of course I heard, and the broker dude is like okay catch you later then
gotta say, I was already fond of Twice just as a funny and eccentric (you have no idea how much my brain struggled to find an adjective to use in place of “quirky” there, but needless to say I wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face otherwise) character. but it’s pretty damn fascinating to witness his psyche on display now as well
apparently the League has been separated and scattered for a little while, both to lie low and to scout for more people to join the group
and now we’re cutting to Dabi and he’s just roasting some poor dudes alive
damn son
oh shit what’s happening to Twice
this guy is soooo weird
he says his quirk is “doubling.” “I make one into two”
okay. I don’t get it at all, but
-- WHOA
IS THIS THE FUCKING PRESTIGE OR WHAT. AND WASN’T THIS ALSO A PLOTLINE IN FUCKING CALVIN AND HOBBES
he says each of the clones claimed to be the real one (by “real” I assume “original”) and they started arguing and eventually they all killed each other
and he’s not sure even now whether he’s actually the “real” him
holy shit I would read an entire book about this guy. I want David Fincher to direct a movie about him
it seems like he’s not even really that evil, it’s just that he’s so crazy that the league was the only place he could find that would accept him. “what I was searching for were others who are just as crazy as I am”
I would read a spinoff manga about Twice and his existential nightmare of an existence, trufax. this is so compelling I almost forgot about the fact that we’re thirteen pages into this chapter and so far it’s been all villains and no U.A. kids
-- what the fuck
IS THAT THE GUY FROM EARLIER?? WHO ROBBED THE ATM???
(answer: yes, I just went back and looked)
WHY IS HIS FUCKING HEAD HERE?? IS THIS HIS QUIRK OR SOMETHING MORE HORRIFYING THAN THAT
farewell Reservoir Dogs. you had a brief and uneventful run culminating in THE MOST HORRIFYINGLY GRUESOME SCENE I’VE EVER SEEN SHOUNEN JUMP ALLOW IN THEIR FUCKING MAGAZINE. NOT ONLY WAS IT INDEED HIS FUCKING HEAD, I COUNT LIKE SEVEN OF HIS AND HIS FRIENDS’ OTHER BODY PARTS MORBIDLY STREWN ABOUT AND ROASTING ON THIS OPEN FUCKING FLAME. dude what the fuck
oh boy here we go
now his buddy in a raincoat -- and they all have the same plague doctor masks on btw -- is saying he took the money and let’s get out of here
he’s calling the “YOU GUYS HAVE AN ILLNESS” dude “Overhaul.” okay I’ll admit that’s a pretty badass villain name
and Twice is watching them all like, “oh. more maniacs”
so I’m guessing he’s going to recruit these guys lol
the narration says that both the heroes and villains’ sides have begun to undergo changes in appearance. well, we’ve seen a lot of the heroes’ side of things so far so I guess it’s nice to take a break from that and see what the villains have been up to
is this the prison??
OH SHIT!!!!!
WHAT IS HE DOING COMING OVER THERE TO TALK TO HIM OH MY GOD
“THE DISCUSSION WITH THE BIG BOSS IS ABOUT TO BEGIN” [FRANTICALLY CLICKS TO THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!]
-- except no, damn it, because I gotta check out the bonus page first :/
bonus
...actually the bonus page is just Horikoshi being excited that there are now two spinoff series. apparently he’s a fan of Illegals. I do want to check that out (especially since he just said Eraserhead has a cameo in it omgggg), but like hell if you think I’m clicking away from this main story just yet. I still have 85 chapters to go and it’s not like things are exactly getting boring omg
#bnha#boku no hero academia#bubaigawara jin#twice (bnha)#dabi#chisaki kai#overhaul (bnha)#all for one#makeste reads bnha#merry christmas everyone#please enjoy this surprisingly violent and disturbing chapter and its dystopian ambiance#I found it surprisingly enjoyable myself#mostly because I love twice so fucking much#I know he's a fucking villain but dammit I can't help rooting for him#he's just so great
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