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heyyyharry · 3 years

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Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic

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moonstone27ls · 2 years

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Sawww Encanto

Warning opinion/spoilers, probably an unpopular one....

Part of me liked/loved it (mostly the characters).... other half made me feel like that youtuber Saberspark? where he said Luca was “okay”. Which I kinda have to agree I kinda wanted more from Encanto, I guess more action? Thought I’d get more of folklore and stuff like Moana. But oh well. And while the songs are good, nothing stood out. But again my opinion, I’m not saying it sucked. No it was beautiful and almost every character was likeable.

My only real takeaway was two things. But I wanna talk more on that, first of all LOVED Bruno, I didn’t even have to see the clips fully to know that the poor guy had been pushed as a scapegoat. I mean the irony. Mirabel was treated less by her family because she had no power. Bruno had a power and because his was not what they (or maybe his mother?) wanted, he was a pariah. Though the poor guy was CLEARLY lonely. Another irony... I don’t think Abuela Alma even had a power? I mean yes there’s that candle thing but as far as I know she had no real direct link to it or its powers, if that had been the case Mirabel would had been given powers... so another irony 8B.

But that gets to my takeaway near the end, while Abuela’s story or learning was earned... I dunno when Bruno reunited with his sisters... Pepa’s didn’t feel earned. I mean Julieta, I get because she had never really said much negative about Bruno only that he “strayed”. Butttt Pepa and her side of the family literally sang a boogeyman song about her own brother. Even if some of this was Alma’s influence, Pepa thought it was okay for her children to see her brother was the “bad sheep” of the clan.

Again thats probably an unwanted opinion, but I dunno the factor that she didn’t apologize for thinking bad of him.... just didn’t make it feel earned .Just kinda seemed her side of the family... sorta started trouble(not counting Antonio). Automatically saying her brother ruined her wedding (when lets be honest. The woman looked like she was having problems. I mean BIGGER picture being “happy” all the time when your mood can affect the weather sounds wearing). Then how Dolores just kinda ruins things. I dunno, I know its clear the family cared for Mirabel... but unlike Julieta & Agustín they didn’t try to make Mirabel feel loved or “Hey she doesn’t have powers but she’s still amazing.” She’s just “shrug”.

When they hear about the vision and Mirabel. Even if this was a bad vision, we all saw Mirabel’s face. She did not want to be outed to their grandmother. She KNEW the family would spread the word instantly to their grandmother. They all literally started a whispering chain. Knowing that Mirabel would face repercussions or worse they were treating her like Bruno when she hadn’t really done anything.

Maybe I’m overthinking it. Or maybe Pepa & Félix and that Dolores scene is suppose to represent like the gossipy side of family? I mean I have a sister I can’t tell crap too because she stirs shit.

My second take away.... I guess the sorta wasted character that was Mariano. I mean I’ll be honest... nothing made me wish for him to be with either Isabella or Dolores BD;. That could be the timing or writing. Just I dunno. I mean I’ve watched Disney films for a LONG time and some of their not so good direct video movies. I’ve shipped canon and fan stuff. But Mariano there was no real anything to his character or story.

I mean when I saw Lilo & Stitch, I loved David and Nani’s interactions. I still to this day ship them and think they got married, had a baby and raised Lilo together... along with their colorful blended family. But Mariano 8B, sorry nothing. Even with Dolores kinda wasn’t really cheering for her. The factor that she “hears everything” made it feel more stalkery then romantic BD;. Maybe if they had deleted scenes where they were friends or he had been her confided, maybe it’d feel more earned. But I was just “Oh this is love... how? How long do you know him?”

I’ll be honest thought/hoped Mirabel would get a love interest. Cause haven’t seen the “nerd” get a love interest since Atlantis... not that I’m sure she counts as a nerd? Does she I dunno 8B.

#encanto

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missskzbiased · 3 years

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My Whole New World

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Established Relationship! au

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem! Reader [Chubby! Described as squishy and Glasses mentioned as well, as requested]

Word Count: ~1,6K [I’m Proud! It’s the closest of a Drabble I’ll ever get]

Notes: The fifth fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Chan || Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Requested: Yes, by @fivefootfuryanon

EDIT: I knew I forgot to say something here. Wifey, I didn’t do the ‘ADHD’ part because I didn’t think I could do it well in a drabble. Maybe in the future I can write something longer. I’d like to picture it respectufully and study about it before writing it, so that’s why :’(

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu @bythesunnotbythemoon

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

///

You were guilty.

Guilty of liking Disney’s songs too much.

What was the big deal with that?!

You should have known that having Chan in your house would end up in you being humiliating at some point today. In fact, you had your suspicions that you were bound to attack him when he finished Chan’s Room ─ which he was doing right now in your bedroom as you washed the dishes ─, and, of course, you weren’t mistaken.

“A whole new world!” You screamed at the top of your lungs; soaked and soapy sponge turning into a microphone for a moment as your free hand ─ that dropped the spoon in the sink just for this ─ slowly made its way to the sky, as if your singing abilities were good enough for this performance.

“A new fantastic point of view!” Chan sang along, voice filled with amusement.

“No!” You protested while chuckling “Don’t you dare close your eyes” You corrected, turning around and sprinkling foam everywhere as you brought your fist to your chest, scrunching your nose and singing dramatically. He giggled, utterly satisfied by your performance as he captured you on-screen “That’s right! Record me so Disney can hire me as their ultimate princess!” You laughed, winking exaggeratedly at the camera and having your glasses sliding to the tip of your nose.

“You’re on live” He announced, cackling up.

“Wait— What?!” You widened your eyes, tossing the sponge in the sink and trying to fix your outfit the best you could “H-Hey, Stays! I’m Chan’s friend, Y/N!” You floundered, an awkward smile plastered in your face as you tried to think about something to say to dismiss the idea of being in a relationship with him. Wouldn’t it get him in trouble?

“Oh my god! Stays, I’ve been rejected!” He whined, turning the camera to him before walking towards you “And there I was thinking she was singing this song to me” He pretended to cry, his hand hiding half of his face as he twisted his face in a mockingly sad grimace.

You stared at him blankly ─ eyes darting to your sides before fixing on him again ─, stiffly standing up as if suddenly you were a robot or something. He seemed to finally take pity on you, huffing playfully as he threw his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him and framing both of you on the video.

“Well” He stressed, pecking your cheek before returning his gaze to the camera “As promised, Stays… Here is my girlfriend” He smirked when you let your mouth fall agape, dumbfounded by the situation “No, you may not steal my girl, Jeez!” He whined after reading a comment, frowning mockingly as if to scold whoever had thought about it.

You couldn’t believe it! Was it even allowed? Was it okay to announce your relationship like this? You returned your gaze to the camera, still looking flabbergasted as you tried to read the comments. You expected some rude ones but surprisingly enough, Stays seemed to be pretty chill about it.

Some of them commented about how cute you were because of your height gap. In fact, you were pretty short and that made Chan look like an actual tall guy instead of a small bean, like usual. Some others commented about how smooshy you looked and how envious they were of you and Chan. You had to chuckle about that one, seeing a bunch of stays saying that they wanted to hug you as well. Then you picked up on someone talking about your singing and the embarrassment hit you.

They had seen you pretending to be a performer!

“So that was it, Stays! Baby Stays…” He smiled, tilting his body to rest his head on top of yours “I’m gonna give you all a hug, and then I’ll be giving my babygirl some attention” He chanted, knowing that you would get flustered. You nudged his side, lowering your head to hide your embarrassment “Here, hold this for me, baby” He asked, guiding you to hold it with both of your hands and adjusting it to be in his chest level.

He opened his arms, getting closer to the phone to give his usual virtual hug, except that this time he actually hugged you instead of stopping in front of the phone. You felt his warmth as he wrapped you in his arms, staying there for a while before kissing your temple and letting you go. He smiled at the phone, making his signature pose in the end before turning the live off.

“Did you miss me?” He asked cutely, putting his phone aside to hold your hand, swinging them between both of you.

“It’s been only an hour” You reminded him, chortling when he pouted “Yeah, sure… I may have missed you a little bit” You teased, pecking his lips.

“Just a little bit?!” He whined, letting go of your hands to cross his arms over his chest, stomping the ground repeatedly as he pretended to throw a tantrum “You don’t love me anymore!” He said dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked away and lifted his head.

“It’s your fault for exposing me like that!” You laughed, pointing at him before booping his nose “Now everyone saw me singing in the kitchen!” You pouted, making him chuckle, pulling you closer and wrapping you up as he kissed the top of your head “Yah! Being all cute now won’t get you away from it!” You said as he rocked your body side to side, peppering your face with kisses.

“You’re sure?” He asked, nuzzling you to make you annoyed “Even if I’m about to get you to bed for some nice cuddling and movies?” He tried to tempt you, guiding you to give one step at a time while hugging you, which made both of you look like penguins walking.

“Well, if I’m getting cuddles and some kisses… I may accept your apologies for humiliating me in front of the Stays” You mused out loud. He squeezed you like a plushie, holding you tight while whimpering, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t! You’re too cute” He cried, turning you around to squish your face “I didn’t know you would be singing in the kitchen” He chuckled, brushing his lips on yours “And it wasn’t humiliating, it was the cutest thing in this whole new world” He sang the last part, laughing as you playfully hit his shoulder.

“I’ll become a video on Twitter!” You whined, and he smooched you after you stopped talking.

“Well, we can tag Disney to see if they hire you as their ultimate princess” He giggled, getting another hit from you.

“You’re awful!” You chuckled, throwing your hands around his waist to bring him closer to you, lifting your head to kiss his pouting lips “But you’re lucky I love you a lot” You shrugged, getting a goofy smile from him.

“Like a whole lot?” He asked, trying to be charming but getting a snort as an answer “Yah!” He complained, bumping his nose on yours “I love you so much, Y/N-ah…” He pouted, and you looked softly at him, pecking his lips once again.

“I love you a whole lot” You promised, letting go of his waist to grab his hand and guide him to the bedroom. You sat down, rolling and patting the mattress for him to lay down with you “And by a whole lot, I mean a whole lot!” You said, spreading your arms open and stretching them as far as you could “Like this big! But maybe even bigger!” You added, chuckling as he rushed to roll to your side.

“That much, hm?” He gave you a smug grin, throwing his legs and arms over your body and resting his chin on your chest. You smiled at him, playing with his locks in a slow motion that got him humming and leaning against your hand; eyes closed to enjoy the warm contact.

You pinched his cheek, leaning to kiss his nose.

“You know what?” You asked, rubbing his earlobe mindlessly as he moved himself to get cozier into your hold, bringing you closer as he nuzzled your neck and sighed satisfied “I think I love you so much… But so much…” You whispered, turning your head to kiss his temple. You pressed a kiss on his cheek as well, placing one last kiss on his jaw before brushing your lips on his ears “That I could even call you…” You snorted, lifting your head just a little bit so he would turn to look at you.

He stood there, looking at you with twinkling expecting eyes.

“… My whole new world!” You sang out loud, startling him for a moment.

“Oh my God! Jeez!” He huffed, hand going to his chest as he lifted his body, making you laugh at his astonished expression.

He laughed along with you, bracing himself on the bed as he cupped your cheeks, staring intensely at your eyes and making you flustered. He smirked, nuzzling your nose before sliding his hand to yours, interlocking his fingers with you, and squeezing your hand. You pursed your lips, big doe eyes looking at him in expectation, observing how he hovered his lips over yours for a second.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes…” He continued the song, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

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multimetaverse · 3 years

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HSMTMTS 2x06 Review

Yes, And was a messy ep that brings us to the halfway point of the season. Let’s dig in!

Tonight took some big steps towards the Rini breakup. The conflict isn’t quite earned as they did too much too quickly in making Ricky overbearing; to go from Ricky supporting Nini going to YAC and them singing love songs to each other just 3 eps ago to Ricky now accusing Nini of changing because she didn’t get pineapple on her pizza just doesn’t work. Largely that’s because it’s clear that the writers are working backwards from an outline that requires Rini to be broken up before the finale.

The Rose song is great and Olivia’s vocals are wonderful as always but again it’s not quite earned. The lyrics make it seem like Nini thinks Ricky is holding her on a pedestal and holding her back when that’s not what we’ve seen on screen. Ricky and Nini went through a lot as they were finding their way back to each other and they learned not to see each other through rose coloured glasses and while Ricky was sad that Nini went to YAC he was supportive and respected her wishes, notably the only time he admitted how much he wanted Nini to come back to Salt Lake was after Nini had already made up her mind to return.

Rini was always going to break up both because writers struggle with writing happy or stable couples and because Tim became enamoured of Rina after writing 1x05 and will want to explore them at some point. Tim’s claimed that he has future seasons all planned out but I’m skeptical that he’s really thought out how to keep Ricky and Nini and Gina on goodish terms with each other for the remaining 2 seasons of the show while also not completely closing the door on the Rini endgame the show’s been aiming towards since the pilot.

It’s clear that Ricky has unresolved issues from his mom effectively abandoning him which are impairing all his relationships. And while it’s true he could try calling Lynne it’s the parents job to reach out and she is obviously fine living her life without Ricky. Not sure how much closure we can get with Lynne when she comes back in 2x09 but I hope we at least get an apology on her part.

Yet another ep of Gina going through it. That flashback to Gina tearfully telling Ricky that she wouldn’t have ‘’given up on us’’ if she hadn’t moved certainly paints Ricky’s behaviour this season in a worse light. I do hope the show doesn’t take the cowards way out and have Ricky being too stupid to realize that Gina had romantic feelings for him. Though again we run into the problem that these emotions aren’t fitting the story. There really wasn’t an ‘us’ for Gina to fight for, she and Ricky had only been hanging from 1x05-1x08 and never actually dated or went on dates. Also by this point Gina should be questioning her feelings for Ricky and whether he’s worth it; it’s not like he’s done anything nice for her this season like getting her chocolates for Valentine’s Day.

Still Gina did make some strides tonight. She finally opened up to Ashlyn which seems to have lifted a weight off of her shoulders and makes the decision to stay in Salt Lake. She also brushes off Ricky wanting to be improv partners which leads to her accepting EJ’s offer which led to a sweet callback to them being wonderstudies. I’m glad she’s not going to Louisiana but it does mean we were robbed of a HSMTMTS/Secrets of Sulphur Springs crossover.

Kourtney and Howie are finally together. I’m glad they didn’t waste time dragging this out. Kourtney’s confession was very in character and I liked the earlier hufflepuff dragging. As an aside I wonder if say 10 years in the future, shows will still be making light hearted unqualified references to Harry Potter or will J.K. Terfling have completely destroyed the goodwill the series has by then.

Lily continues to act as if she’s in Glee working for Sue Sylvester to take down the One Directions and honestly I’m here for it. I especially liked that she stole some of the condiments on her way out of Salt Lake Slices. Antoine seems alright, the espionage bit was funny. Seems like Salt Lake City would be a pretty shitty place for a French student to study.

EJ remains underused especially since this is his last semester as a student. His Gaston answer was surprisingly thoughtful and hinted at him getting over Nini with Gina as he sat down next to her. His may I have this exercise was just the right amount of smooth and goofy.

Ashlyn had a good ep, she killed Home, Julia has a great voice. And she stood her ground with Gina but was also there for her and managed to help her decide to stay. Loved her line that she was still part Caswell.

Mike Bowen is sweet, thoughtful, and rocking that beard? Must have been hard for Miss. Jenn to let him go but ultimately she made the right decision as it would just be too messy to date the parent of one of your students.

Lots of funny little moments this ep; the camera panning to the exit sign during Gina’s confessional, the group chat with Miss. Jenn and the real group chat without her, Seb hula-hooping with wild abandon.

Looking Ahead:

Well we’re now at the official halfway mark of the season. It’s been an uneven first half, lots of pacing issues, and clear signs of the covid pandemic impacting production. Disney + has announced that future seasons of Disney + originals will be released on Wednesdays from now on so we have that to look forward to for S3 and S4.

Carlos uploading the Rose song will inevitably lead to disaster. Nini is very right to tell Kourtney not to let Ricky know, the lyrics paint him in a very bad light. The song gives us more context for why Lily said to Ricky that his gf needed some space in the trailer. I suspect Lily will end up being the party crasher that Ricky re-evaluates in 2x12, I don’t think Tim is going to keep Lily as a one dimensional antagonist this entire season.

Ricky said in 2x01 that he’s never breaking up with Nini again and I think that’s true because Nini will break up with him. I think it comes before 2x12, maybe them exploring an old haunt in 2x08 is where it happens though the description for 2x11 also sounds like it could be hinting at a Rini breakup.

Well we now know what one of the secrets rising between Gina and Nini will be in 2x10, Nini was already jealous of Gina and Ricky in S1 and I doubt she’ll enjoy hearing that Gina confessed to Ricky in 1x10. Since Gina has already confessed to Ricky it makes it less likely that her speaking her truth in 2x12 is related to her and Ricky.

EJ and Gina doing the morning announcements starts next ep, that should be fun. Especially since Mazzara is aware of EJ’s feelings for Gina. There’s a pretty clear path to end the season with Portwell or at least set it up for S3. EJ already likes Gina, the announcements help bring them closer, Gina starts getting over Ricky and realizes that EJ puts her first, maybe Mazzara helps one or both of them at the cast party, and Gina shares her truth and confesses to EJ. So far the show hasn’t done anything it can’t pull back from but sooner or later the writing will have to commit one way or the other. One thing I’ll say is that it’s already clear that making EJ a senior was a big mistake and I expect it to cause a lot more problems for the show in the remaining two seasons.

There’s also a path for Ricky and Gina to get together but that seems less likely given the clear mess Ricky is right now. Seeing his mom in 2x09 probably helps a bit but it’s hard to see how any relationship Ricky gets into won’t swiftly crash and burn. There’s also the matter of when exactly Rini break up, if it’s too late in the season then there wouldn’t be time to jump right into Rina. There’s also the matter of the unexpected facetime call he gets in 2x10 and the party crasher he re-evaluates in 2x12. Even if they’re not linked it does suggest there will be some curveballs in Ricky’s story and at least the party crasher info suggests there’s some non Rini or Rina related twist being planned for Ricky in 2x12.

Until next week Wildcats

#HSMTMTS #Rini #Rina #Portwell #Ricky Bowen #Gina Porter #Nini Salazar-Roberts #EJ Caswell #HSMTMTS Reviews

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nautiscarader · 3 years

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2020 in animation - recap

So, 2020.

Yeah, I have to say I’m not entirely satisfied. Would not recommend, 1 star.

But I would be willing to bump it to 1.5, if only because of one factor: the animation.

Because I have to say, this was the best animated end of the world so far! And if there was something that kept our spirits up, it was the cartoon industry!

Just like last year, I should preface this by saying that this is highly subjective selection. Even when one is confined to their Hobbit holes for better part of the year because of *waves hands* everything around,

day still only has 24 hours, so I have missed a few shows. (I should also apologise for omitting a few major ones last year, like Milo Murphy’s Law S2, Ducktales, or She-Ra. This is why I started keeping a track this year). I’m sure I will catch up with those I missed this year some time in the future, but for now, let’s see what this year has gifted us with.

And right from the start, January opens the race with very interesting propositions. We were still riding on an incredibly high wave from last year, with Infinity Train season 2.

This one focused on Tulip’s mirror, and pushed the season towards a much darker and complex story, diving deep into one’s personal journey and identity. There were tears, math, deer, and cops being murdered. Brutally.

t was followed by two newcomers: The Owl House and first season of Kipo and The Age of the Wonderbeast. Both of them would dominate first half of the year, with The Owl House’s traditional, week-to-week airings, and Kipo's seasons appearing in June and October.

The Owl House, a strong contender in "What will be the Next Gravity Falls?" contest, invited us to a world full of magic, mystery, elongated owl demons and some dark secrets. It has also created a milestone for Disney, introducing an LGBT couple with characters of bisexual Luz Noceda and lesbian Amity Blight. Their Grom dance has risen to the top of my animates scenes, polling very closely to the unforgettable Kataango.

On the other hand, Kipo has taken us to the post-apocalyptic world filled with mutant animals, revealing that despite the end of the world, our old vices and animosities have survived in underground burrows, and we have infected the overworld of giant doggos and suit-wearing frogs with them.

Kipo did not pull any punches regarding commentary about our society, at the same time giving us hope in the form of the main protagonist, who was able to spread friendship and understanding amongst the mutes, as well as the humans that had to survive. And in the world that we have found ourselves in, it was a pretty darn good lesson.

February would bring end to two seasons of airing cartoons, Big Hero Six season 2 and Miraculous season 3, as well as another newcomer that won the hearts of fans: Glitch Techs, with its "second" season arriving in August. And while in my opinion he show wasn't as good as the other two new titles, I am clearly in minority, as the show about Ghostbuters-like team of game console technicians gained huge popularity... though not enough to keep the show afloat. As of writing this, it is currently in limbo, which is a shame, as the second set of 10 episodes finally added some much needed ongoing story.

in March, another show from last year ended - Steven Universe Future. As we have expected, it tackled slightly more mature themes, showing how much Steven needed that therapy we have wished him, telling an important tale of finding one's worth and one's self. its ending might not have been as explosive as those of the original show, or the movie, but it left Steven’s story as open as an open road, and deep in our hearts, we all knew it would look like this.

March was also the time when majority of western world caught the coronavirus, and that caused quite a turmoil with the movie and animation industry. One of the first victim of changed schedule was Disney's Onward, which was released on-line on Disney+ quickly after its theatrical release.

I have mixed feelings towards “Onward”. For such interesting promise, I think it made a few questionable and down right boring turns, though the unorthodox message at the end of it was its strongest point, and it was one I haven’t seen in a while, so it was worth watching just for that.

April was relatively quiet (aside from more end of the world stuff); brought us third season of Ducktales that spread throughout the year, while May gave us final, fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

To my eternal shame, I missed on this show when it premiered, and due to the lockdown, I binge-watched the previous four right in time for powerful and explosive season 5. And even though Catra and Adora finally gave us exactly what we needed, some fans felt slightly unsatisfied, calling for a movie, like the Steven Universe one to be made. And I’d be all for it, the rest of universe needs saving from the Horde! Also, cats in space - hilarious.

May also revealed a new player on the streaming field: HBO Max, who surprised us with new Looney Tunes Cartoons, much more in the spirit of the legendary originals than the often-criticised Looney Tunes Show from 2011-2014. And in my opinion, it did; one could feel the same fluidity in animation, dedication to slapstick, and synchronisation with music than in the very first cartoons with Bugs and Daffy.

HBO Max would, however, return in June with first of series of Adventure Time original movies called "Distant Lands". The first centred around BMO, with second one - Obsidian giving us a glimpse into Bonnibel and Marceline's lives.

Distant Lands allowed people to revisit the odd, odd world of Ooo and learn about its colourful inhabitants, taking turns to seeing their past and the future, an, as usual, showing us that post-apocalyptic world can teach us valuable and meaningful lessons.

Just in time for full lockdown in our burrows, aforementioned Kipo season 2 premiered in June, together with another cartoon movie, this time featuring We Bare Bears. While their movie wasn't anything to write songs about, it was exactly like the show, providing some wholesome content right when we needed it.

And just in case you needed more wholesome adventures, Craig of the Creek's second season ended, and its third season began, reminding us of HOW COOL LIFE WAS WHEN OUTERNET WASN’T SCARY AND WE COULD STILL WALK OUTSIDE FOR FUN AND NOT TO HUNT TOILET PAPER.

Just like last year, July was not dogs' days, but frogs'. Amphibia season 2 started raining on our heads, but unlike last year, its schedule wasn't a daily one, spreading the episodes throughout the Summer and early Autumn, with its second part arriving in February of 2021. There were more roadtrips, more mysteries and MORE MARCY.

August was equally strong: aforementioned Glitch Techs "season 2" premiered, offering better and more plot-heavy episodes than the first ten episodes. Unfortunately, the show's future is unclear; the uneven divide of plot between the seasons probably contributed to the show not being renewed. 10 new episodes apparently are written, but await in sleep mode, until Nickelodeon remembers about it.

HBO MAX picked up Infinity Train for its third season, after being derailed by Cartoon Network. And if you thought that killing a mirror cop was shocking... then this season has pushed the limit of what can be shown in modern children's cartoon to a frightening degree. The schedule was once again, weirder, with first five episodes airing on the day of the premiere, ending with a cliffhanger (literally) that only contributed to the shock factor and made us wait anxiously for its conclusion. It was bold, it was dark, it was memorable.

And just like Glitch Techs, Infinity Train waits on a side track, unsure if it will be picked up, or will it be abandoned and left as a canvas for graffiti artists.

However, to end the Summer, a truly amazing TV movie has arrived on Disney Plus, where we came back to good, old Danville and could witness Candace against the universe. The new Phineas and Ferb movie brought back the glorious memories of this fantastic show, with the same humour, writing, abundance of catchy songs and a surprisingly deep moral.

In September we have seen the start of Big Hero 6 season 3 and a odd change of format. Instead of standalone 22-minute episodes, the show now consists of two 11-minute segments. In opinion of many, this weakened the stories, forcing them to be more comedy-oriented, and shortening the potential emotional drama. Still, it gave us funny, short stories, but they did clash with the two previous season, not to mention the movie.

However, if that wasn't up to your taste, Ducktales season 3 also started airing, and continued its first part up until December with more action- and plot-driven episodes, including the Darkwing Duck crossover, serving as a pilot of the spin-off.

Later in December fans have learned that Season 3 will be its last, which broke the hearts of many duck fans; however, it seems that the season has been written as the last one in mind, and the news of the ending was known to the creators, which gives us hope for a kick-ass finale somewhere in 2021.

Miraculous New York, telling arguably one of the most mature storylines, opened the "Heroez" world to some new characters and new opportunities, with two more specials, taking place in Shanghai and Brazil, meant to air somewhere next year. AND I DO HOPE WE WILL SEE MORE LOCAL FOOD VENDOR SUPERHEROES LIKE HOT DOG DAN.

October was the month of two season 3's: Carmen Sandiego and Kipo. In case of Carmen, as it is usual with Netflix, the "season" was only a half-one, with just a handful standalone episodes, and just a dash of more ongoing plot.

For Kipo, however, season 3 was the end, and what a glorious one it was. Fans were saddened to learn of it, but Kipo was always imagined as a 3-part story, and it showed. The finale proved more than satisfying ending to the plot, elevating Kipo to one of the smartest cartoon characters we should all try to aspire to.

In November, Distant Lands: Obsidian aired, focusing on everyone’s favourite candy/vampire couple, and the long and complicated love between Bonnibel and Marceline. And as usual, it showed us that relationships are not always as straightforward as we would like them to be, but with enough music and teamwork, no enemy is big enough.

For the next new show, I’ve waited with the most amount of excitement and anxiety. Because while I was completely fine with other reboots and re-imaginings to take creative takes, new Animaniacs, (airing on Hulu) had to be perfect and had to be the lightning that struck twice.

And sadly... it wasn’t. It was still good, but some people criticised (incorrectly imho) the amount of political topics, while I mourned almost total cast-ration of additional characters, aside from Pinky and the Brain. This truly weakened the possibilities it could have had. It was still very good, but you can feel that some of the original charm was lost, due to these odd, odd limitations.

December brought us a new original Apple TV movie, Wolfwalkers. A beautifully animated folk tale of friendship and social divides, and how short-sight can cause the collapse of both arguing sides, reminding me very much of the intelligence and heart of original “How to Train Your Dragon”.

We’ve had to wait two years for the return of arguably one of the most wholesome shows out there: Hilda. Second season dived into deeper mysteries that permeate the rich and colourful troll-ridden land, we saw the return of some familiar characters, and introduced a whole new storyline, that ended with a surprising cliffhanger. Still as wholesome, but now with a tiny bit of Police incompetence. Also Twig, lots of Twig.

Just like Onward, Pixar’s highly anticipated Soul aired on Disney+, telling a very mature story about finding one’s purpose in life, what that purpose actually means, and whether it exists at all. Beautifully animated, with fantastic soundtrack, it was a stunning tribute to creativity, and it never dumbed down its profound, open message about following your dream.

And just if you thought that Soul was going to be 2020′s last note (pun very much intended), right before the year ended, DC Super Hero Girls concluded its first season on a rather anti-climactic two-parter. That being said, the season, running from March of last year, was packed with short, bite-sized, funny stories, taking interesting spins on existing comic book characters. For a comic book noob like me, it was perfectly fine, and I can’t wait for the second season next year.

And so, we have reached the series finale of humanity.

2020 ends in just under a day. What will 2021 bring us? I do not know, and if the animated shows of this year have taught me anything, is that the future is an always open book, full of worries and challenges, but also opportunities and possibilities.

...

And in reality I was too lazy to check any news sites about upcoming projects.

#infinity train #glitch techs #amphibia #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #animaniacs #carmen sandiego #hilda #DuckTales #big hero 6 #distant lands #dc super hero girls #Miraculous Ladybug #spop #The Owl House

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mintaka14 · 3 years

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Here’s the final chapter of See the Light. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to @quickspinner for letting me play with your prompt.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Four – The World Has Somehow Shifted

She was reading too much into that song. All Rose’s talk of romance and fairytales and Disney was getting to her, and sung in Luka’s gorgeous voice of course it was going to sound like…

Dammit, she was a grown woman, and she was not going to cry.

But her vision blurred as she typed out the curt little response to Luka’s text. She didn’t dare trust herself to write more.

She should know by now that Ladybug didn’t get the happily ever after, and she didn’t get the prince. (But I don’t want a prince, the voice whispered at the back of her mind, just Luka)

The wedding dresses were done and delivered, so Marinette threw herself into making her own outfit as a distraction. If she couldn’t go to the Liberty, she could focus on gold embossed blue silk chiffon with grim determination. The results were at least pretty enough, she decided as she faced the mirror on the morning of the wedding.

The skirts drifted around her knees in a cloud of powder blue and gold filigree. She flattened her hand over the narrow gilt belt at her waist and regarded herself critically, reaching up to tuck an escaping strand of hair back into the chignon at the nape of her neck. Marinette found herself wondering if Luka would like it, and cut that train of thought off sharply. It didn’t matter what he thought, because they were simply friends, assuming they could even be that anymore. She was not doing this to the both of them all over again.

She heard Mylène’s voice at the door, and caught up the clutch purse with her disapproving kwami in it, sliding into the pale gold heels that she’d bought for the occasion. Time to go and be happy for her friends.

Marinette travelled out to the vineyard for the wedding with Ivan and Mylène, and sat with them under the trees as the harpist played and the guests gathered. The soft chatter died down, and as the music paused and swelled in the bright afternoon the brides made their way down the grassy aisle together. Rose was sunshine in blushing pink and cascades of flowers, bright as she beamed up at Juleka. And Juleka, in her darkly elegant moonlit gown, glowed.

Marinette’s eyes turned to Luka, taking his place beside Anarka. He’d managed to lose his suit coat and tie somewhere along the way, and the teal fall of his hair was a vivid splash of colour over the charcoal and cloud grey of his shirt and vest as he bent to say something quietly to his mother, his arm going around her. Luka’s head turned, and for a moment his eyes met hers.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Mylène whispered, and Marinette jerked her gaze free, managing to summon up a smile that must have been convincing enough.

It was a small wedding, but half of the guests were Couffaines, and it turned out that the Lavillants were a lot like Rose, so it wasn’t by any means a subdued or formal occasion. Marinette had never met Rose’s parents, but it was obvious where Rose got her enthusiasm from once she’d been introduced to Rose’s mother. And then there was Jagged.

He’d swooped down on Marinette in an exuberant avalanche the moment that the two brides had been whisked away for their photos, and Marinette had been left laughing and breathless. She was passed from hand to hand, and congratulated at every turn on the stunning wedding gowns.

Once or twice, she caught Luka looking her way, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart stumble, but he kept his distance. She was, she told herself, grateful for that.

Marinette caught up her pale blue and gold skirts as the breeze fluttered them around her and picked her way carefully across the grass as the entire company trekked through the gardens towards the waiting château. Luka still hadn’t come anywhere near her by the time they’d all reached the wide paved courtyard where waiters were moving around with trays of champagne and platters of elegant hors d’oeuvre waited on tables against the backdrop of old-fashioned damask roses and ivy and stone walls. She smiled and waved away the offered champagne glass, and threaded her way through the chattering guests to slip inside the doors of the huge old hall ready for the reception. Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief in the temporary silence.

The hall was a warm cavern of stone and timber, glowing in the candlelight and soft with tables full of white linen and pink roses, and Marinette tilted her head to look up into the strings of pennants and fairy lights that twinkled from the ancient rafters. She knew, without looking, that the soft footfall behind her was Luka.

“Rose’s fairytale,” she said a little wistfully. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He was looking at her. “Feeling a little bit overwhelmed?” he asked sympathetically.

“It’s just been a long day.”

For a moment, it looked like he was going to reach out to her, but he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Everyone will be coming inside soon. I’m thinking it might be a good time to go find a quiet corner to get ready for our performance,” he suggested, and Marinette let out a faint sigh.

“A quiet corner sounds like a wonderful idea.”

As she followed him out of the hall, Luka chuckled and nodded at one of the delicate pink flower arrangements. Nestled in among the roses, Marinette saw a tiny glittery black bat, and she couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s Juleka’s fairytale too,” Luka said.

The space he led her to had obviously become the designated storage area for every musician on the guest list. They picked their way through the jumble of instruments that seemed to fill the antechamber, and Luka gave a wry smile.

“Jagged’s brought in enough to start a fairly sizeable orchestra. I think things are going to get loud later on.”

He found his acoustic guitar propped behind a drumkit, and she perched on a chair while he tuned it. She found herself staring stupidly at those arms of his, and the snake tattoo that coiled down his forearm from under his rolled up shirt sleeves, wishing they were wrapped around her. It really wasn’t fair of him.

“Marinette?”

She shook herself out of her stupor.

She kept waiting for him to say something about the way she’d run off the last time he’d seen her, or to ask if she was alright. Instead, he played a quick rising scale on his guitar, and then settled into an easy little melody that was familiar enough that she could sing along with it. She was grateful for his silence as she gave most of her attention to warming her voice up, but a part of her couldn’t help wondering why he said nothing.

Marinette startled and pulled her attention back when Luka stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

He said, “It sounds like it’s just about our turn. Are you feeling ready?”

The noise was rising in the hall behind them with the sound of laughter and talk, and shoes and chairs clattering on the flagstones. Anarka’s voice rang out over the babble, commanding someone to Sit down, ye auld pirate! Marinette heard Jagged’s holler in response, and felt a sickening spike of nerves. What had possessed her to agree to this? She was going to sing in front of Jagged Stone? Marinette looked back at the hall full of people, and gave a shudder.

“What on earth was I thinking? I can’t sing! I’m going to completely choke in front of everyone and embarrass Rose and Juleka on their wedding day.”

Luka caught her hand, tugging her around gently until she was looking at him.

“I’ve got you,” he insisted, just as sincere and steady as he’d been when they were teenagers, and she took a deep breath, letting it out again. “I won’t let you fall. You’ve got this.”

“Have I?”

His answering smile was full of certainty. “You’ve done worse than this before, you can handle a handful of friends who’ll love you even if you sound like a crow. Which you don’t,” he told her with a warm laugh in his voice. “You’ve spoken on stage in front of fashion critics, you can handle anything.”

“And I wanted to throw up every time.”

“But you didn’t.”

Marinette tilted a dark look at him, and he smothered a smile.

“Okay, so you threw up. I can take a bucket on stage for you if you like.”

“It’s alright for you, Mister Rockstar,” she sniffed.

“There’s a reason I never took Jagged up on his offer to take me on tour with him,” he told her. “Although, in retrospect, a classroom full of bored fifteen year olds is a tougher audience than a stadium crowd, so maybe I should have.”

She could help the laugh that escaped, and she looked down at his hands still holding hers. Dangerous, to even consider taking the support he’d always offered her, but she kept her eyes on him and her hand in his as he caught up his guitar, and she let him lead her towards the hall.

In the end, it wasn’t hard to block out the soft rustle of people at the tables, or Rose’s excited little squeak. She didn’t even notice Jagged’s wolf-whistle, or Penny shushing him. There was Luka and his guitar and his wonderful, reassuring smile as she followed his music and sang.

His smile grew brighter as she chimed in with, “All those days, watching from the windows,” and the guitar chords rippled before her like water. It was easy when it felt like there was just Luka, here with her. Perilously easy.

She sang, “All at once, everything is different,” and she wasn’t singing for Rose and Juleka anymore. Luka’s gorgeous blue eyes were on her, only on her, as he took up the melody. Music was his truest voice, and in that moment she heard his heart as clearly as he’d ever heard hers. Marinette felt something like an electric shock, and faltered her cue.

Luka’s eyes shifted swiftly into concern, and his voice picked it up again until she’d recovered. She couldn’t be having this moment now, not in the middle of Rose and Juleka’s wedding, not on their day. Luka’s warm, husky voice wrapped around her, held her up, and as he sang “At last I see the light” Marinette knew that this was something she was never going to recover from.

The sound of applause brought her back to herself, and she broke away from the look in Luka’s eyes with a faint gasp. Somehow she managed to find the words to wish Juleka and Rose and very happy marriage, then she slid past everyone, heading a little too fast towards the door. Friends, and people she’d never met in her life, spoke to her as she passed and she offered them brief, strained smiles. She barely knew what she was saying to them, and didn’t really hear what they were saying to her.

Finally, she found herself outside in the cool and blessedly quiet night air. She could hear the sounds of the first round of music starting, and Jagged’s boisterous voice over the static wail of an electric guitar being tuned. The laughter and chatter in the ballroom behind her was muffled and felt like a whole world away. Marinette put a hand up to her overheated cheek, and was a little startled to find that she was shaking. Even after all these years, after convincing herself for so long that they were just friends, that it was fairer to him if they were just friends, that he didn’t want to be more than friends after everything she’d put him through, those steady blue eyes of his could still hit her hard.

“Marinette?” Luka said behind her, and she jolted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re going to miss the dancing,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice light. She didn’t think he was fooled. He’d always been far too good at reading her mind and heart, even when she’d been incomprehensible to herself, and that was another thing that had made him so dangerous to be around.

“They won’t even notice I’m not there for a while.” He shifted a little, close enough that she could bridge the space between them if she wanted to. “I’m here if you need me.”

He had always been there for her. That simple truth was what broke her down in the end. She felt a bubble catch in her chest, rising to force its way out with a strangled sound. She almost doubled over, gripping the ivy-covered wall beside her, and heard Luka’s quick inhalation, his hand rising towards her and falling again as she backed away.

“See, this? This is why I broke up with you when we were teenagers,” she almost sobbed at him. “You make me want to hold onto you and tell you everything, and I can’t!”

Luka was holding himself in intense stillness.

“The other relationships I’ve had, it was easy enough to walk away when things got too close, but you… It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?” Luka asked carefully.

“Doing that to you!” She was shaking now. “Having to give this up again. Why does everyone else get to have someone to love them and I don’t?!”

“You do.” He took one small, uncontrolled step towards her. “Whether we’re together or not, whoever you’re with, whatever is going on in your life, I love you. I will always care about you.”

“You need the truth, and it’s the one thing I can’t give you,” she said miserably.

Luka’s voice was so soft it was almost unspoken. “What if I already know?”

It took a moment for his words to catch up with her and sink in. The world faded into a distant buzz in her head, a cold tingle that crept over her.

Oh, that was bad. That was bad. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. She’d given up so much to keep anyone from knowing, and she could still feel the crushing backlash of what had happened when she’d made the mistake of telling her closest friend. He couldn’t know.

“Marinette?”

In the dizzying spiral of her fragmented reactions, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She stood still, and felt his hands close over hers, gently, so very gently. The contact anchored her to the moment.

“Marinette, I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

She turned her hands, palm to palm, under his hands and wove her fingers through his.

“I told Alya,” she breathed, and the quality of stillness deepened as he listened. “After you and I broke up, I was so sick of the secrets and lies, and Alya found out some things, so I told her. For three months I had someone who knew, then of course it went wrong, and now Alya has three months of patchy memories from collège that I’m not a part of. I’m still not sure how much deeper the impact to her mind went. The last time I saw her, back around the time I started at the Institut, she still had that puzzled, blank look when she looked my way because I had to take her memory of my secret identity away.”

Marinette drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“I never, ever want to do that to you,” she whispered, and Luka drew her closer, his fingers still tangled in hers. “I couldn’t bear to look into you eyes and see that blankness there.”

He was close enough that she could feel his heartbeat and the soft huff of his laugh against her hair. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Marinette? You will never see that in me. Never. You could take away every memory I have of you, and I’d still have stars in my eyes when I look at you. I’d just fall for you all over again, like I do every time we meet.”

She hiccuped on a sob, and looked up into his warm, steady blue eyes.

“If that’s what you need to do to be safe, then take them,” he told her. “I’ll happily give up those memories of knowing that you’re her if that’s what you need. It doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you.”

“It’s not just that. Have you thought, if I take away your memory of me being… her… and we still try to make us work, we’re back to all those secrets and broken dates and lies.”

“Then give me what you can. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that some truths aren’t yours to share. Just don’t lie when you can’t tell me, and I promise you I’ll understand.”

That he was willing to compromise even that for her… Oh, Luka.

“Or,” she let out the word on a soft exhale, as if testing the idea, “you know.”

And who else, when all was said and done, would she trust more than Luka with her heart and all of her secrets? Who else would she trust to keep the world safe, and everything she’d been fighting to protect?

Luka’s thumb was gently tracing the line of her palm, and the touch was calming even as her mind cleared and raced. This didn’t feel like a scared fourteen year old, alone and overwhelmed and terrified she was going to lose her best friend as well as the boy she loved. This felt like the moment when she held a lucky charm and the pieces of a plan started to come together in her mind. This felt like what she needed.

Marinette stretched up on her toes and met his lips with a kiss.

She heard the sudden hitch of his breath, and there was a moment’s hesitation that would have let her draw back, freak out, rethink, but she wasn’t holding back anymore. This time, when she kissed him, he met her halfway.

Marinette stumbled backwards into the ivy-covered wall as she tugged Luka with her and his mouth came down on hers, desperate and insistent. And oh god if he’d kissed her like this all those years ago she never would have been able to give him up.

She felt the ivy catch at her hair as he backed her up against the wall. The touch of his hand on her jaw, his fingers buried deep in the unravelling curls at the base of her neck, was bringing everything undone and Marinette tilted her head back as his mouth trailed down to the hollow of her throat.

Marinette’s hands clutched at his shirt as the weight of his thigh pressed against her, and she hitched her leg up against his hip, trying to get closer. The gutteral noise he made did unspeakable things to her and god he was ruining her as she pulled him closer, wanting him closer, wanting him. His mouth was on hers again, swallowing the sounds she was making. She could feel him, hard against her, through the layers of silk chiffon.

In the haze that he was making of her mind she was still dimly aware of the sounds of the wedding and the presence of their friends and family in the hall just beyond their deeper well of shadows against the wall, but as she pushed harder against him, the soft froth of her skirts bunching between them, Marinette didn’t care. Her hands came up to dig into the muscles of his shoulders, holding him and oh god, Luka.

White heat swept over her, blanking out her thoughts, and then they were breaking apart, breathing hard.

“Please tell me I can kiss you again,” Luka rasped. His fingers were tangled with hers, and she could feel the uneven rise and fall of his breath.

“Oh, god, yes!”

The kiss was softer this time, reverent, with the feather light brush of his lips over the corner of her mouth, and she shivered at the touch.

“Luka? Are you out here?” someone called.

Marinette blinked in the sudden wash of golden light and raucous swell of noise, and she looked up to find Rose and Juleka standing in the open doorway. Juleka had a hand over her new wife’s mouth, and Rose’s eyes were impossibly wide. She was almost vibrating, and reached up to pull Juleka’s hand away.

“Best. Wedding present. Ever!” she breathed with barely suppressed intensity, and Luka gave a soft huff of a laugh, leaning his forehead against Marinette’s. He plucked a stray ivy leaf from her hair and let it drift to the ground.

“Rose, I love you like my own sister,” he said, “and I know it’s your wedding day, but please go away.”

After Juleka managed to tug Rose away, there were a few more soft kisses in the darkness before they reluctantly returned to the wedding reception. Marinette parted from Luka for just long enough to grab her purse and disappear into the bathroom to untangle her ruined chignon and pin her hair back into some semblance of order in front of the mirror. Her dress was hopelessly crumpled, though, and her lipstick was beyond repair. Marinette found herself smiling dopily at her reflection.

“Marinette, this is bad!” a tiny voice said portentously from her purse, and it felt like a sudden dunk in cold water. Marinette slowly ran her hands down her wrinkled skirts, delaying the moment, while she thought. Finally she straightened, and turned to face her kwami.

“You’re going to have to erase his memories,” Tikki insisted.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said, ignoring Tikki’s horrified gasp, as her mind ran through the possibilities with lightning speed. “No.”

“Marinette.” Tikki’s tone was ominous. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re letting a few kisses cloud your judgement. You know –“

“Has it occurred to you,” she interrupted Tikki, “how long we’ve just been fighting everything to a standstill? You say I’m a fantastic Ladybug, but we’re no closer to getting back the butterfly miraculous than we were ten years ago. Ten years. I’ve been so caught up in just surviving from moment to moment, one battle to the next, one villain to the next, that I haven��t been able to think beyond that. I had no idea how much it was draining me until I reconnected with Juleka and Rose again, and with Luka.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you revealed your identity? Alya –“

“Luka is not Alya,” Marinette cut off the doom-laden lecture, and there was a hint of growing steel in her voice. “And I’m not a fourteen year old, new to her responsibilities, anymore. You say you trust me, so trust me. I’m feeling clearer than I have in a long, long time. For the first time in years, I actually feel like I have hope, and I will find a way to make this work.”

Luka was waiting for her when she made it back to the hall, and she barely noticed the kind and knowing grins of their friends and his family as the rest of the night passed in a haze of glitter and fairylights and music with Luka’s arms around her. Tikki was silent in her purse where she’d left it at the table. There would be serious conversations later, and the fate of Paris to talk about, but right now she didn’t care.

The speeches were finally done, the fairytale cake was a scattering of crumbs, and one of the guests had taken over the stage to sing a slow, sweet cover of Nothing Else Matters while couples danced and smaller groups laughed and talked. Luka pulled Marinette close, his hands warm on the curve of her back, and she looked up into those deep blue eyes of his.

The invitation that he whispered against her ear sent heat straight through her. Feeling a little breathless, she tried to pull herself together. They were still in the middle of the dancefloor and surrounded by people, his mother was right there, but those eyes of his were doing things to her.

“You don’t want to take a turn on stage?” she asked a little dazedly, glancing at the musicians on the tiny stage, but he was only looking at her.

His mouth curved up in a tiny smile. “There are other songs I’d rather be playing right now.”

There was only so much she could take, Marinette decided. Her hands slid down from around his neck to the lean, solid muscle of his shoulders and chest, and she enjoyed the way he reacted under her touch. She flicked a glance up at him through her lashes.

“Then take me to bed,” she told him, her voice turning low and throaty. “I want a private performance, rockstar.”

Luka made a strangled noise, and she took his hand.

In the soft darkness of his guest room on the other side of the château, when her dress slid to the floor in a shimmer of blue and gold, she heard his swift inhalation. Then it was his turn to steal her breath away and make her cry out.

Some time later in the early dark hours of the morning, when the sounds of music and loud laughter from the hall were finally starting to die down, and the newly weds had long left the party for their bridal suite, Marinette propped her chin on Luka’s bare chest and enjoyed the view. His hands moved over her back, coming up to stroke the tangled fall of dark hair from her eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in that husky voice that sent shivers through her.

Beyond the heavy damask curtains at the windows, she could see the first faint light of dawn.

“What happens now?” Marinette asked quietly. As the corners of Luka’s mouth lifted in a smile that turned a little wicked, she pouted at him. “Other than that!”

The quilt had ended up in a puddle on the floor somewhere in the night, but the sheets shifted around her as he gathered her closer and brushed a kiss against her hair.

“I think this is where we live happily ever after. Rose will disown us if we don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she said, rolling her eyes. She settled back against him again. “Although I’m not sure I remember how to do happy.”

“This looks like a pretty good place to start to me.”

Her finger traced a line around his wrist where a particular bracelet had been, once upon a time. Maybe it was time for the snake Miraculous to make a reappearance. Tikki would probably have a lot to say about that, but maybe it was time to rethink a few things. She circled his wrist again, looping back to where she’d started.

Marinette gave a sudden gasp and sat up, the sheets tumbling away from her as Luka protested. She stared down at him with wide eyes and complete disregard for her current nakedness.

“I… think I have a plan,” she told him a little breathlessly, and Luka burst out laughing.

“Of course you do.” His voice with thick with adoration and pride, and he pushed himself upright, reaching to cradle her cheek in his hand as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly until she was dazed with it. He rested his forehead against hers, and she could see that beautiful smile of his. “Some things never change.”

“But I think it’s time that some things do,” Marinette said, and kissed him back fervently with all the love in her heart.

~~~~~

Many weeks later, Sass turned from contemplating the butterfly Miraculous, finally returned to the Miracle Box where it belonged, to give the kwami of creation a smug look.

“I told you yearsss ago you ssshould have brought back my massster. Your wielder iss a brilliant Ladybug, but sshe needsss more than cold duty to truly thrive and ssshine. And the ssnake makess many thingss possssible.”

Tikki huffed and made a sour face.

“Fine, you win. You were right.”

Sass’s fangs bared in a wide grin.

“Musssic to my earsss,” he hissed, and sailed away to find a patch of sunshine to enjoy his victory. If anyone had been around to listen they might have heard the little snake humming, “At lassst they sssaw the light,” as he tucked his tail under and settled into a coil, but the kwamis were too busy celebrating Nooroo’s return to hear anything else, and on the couch, Marinette and Luka were lost in their own little world of tangled hands and lingering kisses. Whatever Luka was saying in a husky undertone to Marinette had brought a rising blush to her cheeks and a bright smile to her face.

They were happy.

In that moment, everyone was happy.

And that, Sass reflected with immense satisfaction, was exactly as it should be.

#see the light #lukanette #pro lukamari #Disney #music nerds #Sass gets the last word #julerose

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tarteausuga · 3 years

Text

Home for Christmas

CW: just pure fluff, really. As fluffy and as soft as snow but not as cold. Idol! Mark Lee x reader. Johnny's there too but just as support.

WC: 3.3K

Summary: in which you're alone for Christmas and Mark tries to give you a gift to make you feel less sad.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe. I'll also be taking a break from TBTC next week and posting something for New year's ✌️

Long distance relationships were hard but they had their good sides as well as bad. One good thing is that you had a lot of time for yourself but on the bad side, you often felt lonely whenever you're out and see people with their significant others. You never really had to spend money on dates but conversely, you never had a chance to go out and show off your boyfriend in public. The time difference often made it hard for you to talk but neither of you ever missed out on your calls.

Mark would call you first thing in the morning when you woke up. It would be midnight to him but luckily, he was a night owl and didn't mind keeping you company while you got ready for your day. Then, you would go about your day before calling him at 5pm, 9am his time, to do the same for him. He often spent his mornings at home before heading to the studio for practice or to write so it was ample time to catch up and just talk about random things. He liked to watch you cook and he often would watch something in Netflix with you. Sometimes you were lucky enough to have him talk you to sleep, or sing you a song he's been working on to send you off into your dream world.

It sounds perfect in a way. You're both able to focus on your lives during the day because the other is safely asleep but you craved the physical aspects. You wanted to be held, you wanted to hold his hand, hell you just wanted to eat a meal with him sitting across from you at the table instead of on a little screen.

The past year and a half has been spent like this. You were childhood friends, growing up together before he moved overseas. You often spent recess running around together and sharing snacks. He wasn't necessarily your best friend, but he was one of the few friends you had growing up and even to this day. It's not that you weren't social but you just preferred being by yourself a lot. You kept in touch with the few friends you did have and that was all you really needed.

It was a surprise to run into him given the circumstances on both ends. He was an incredibly talented and relatively famous Idol in another country; and you moved across the country for school but ended up staying there after landing a good job. You were aware that he would be performing with his group but it wasn't your scene. And you couldn't get tickets anyway since they sold out almost instantly.

Out on your lunch break, you were grabbing a midday iced coffee. But you were trying to juggle setting up meetings and calls with a few important people so you weren't really paying attention when you went to grab the coffee, thinking it was yours.

"Oh I'm sorry." Both you and the owner of that drink said.

Finally, you looked up from your phone at the man and for some reason, you had a feeling of familiarity with him. After squinting your eyes and trying to go through your roledex of people you've encountered in your life, your brain finally figured it out. "Mark?" You say with bewilderment.

"Oh my god! It is you!" He pulled you into an extremely tight hug. "I saw you but I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to go up to a random stranger." He laughed and you couldn't help but do the same. Mark always had that effect on people, he would laugh or smile and no matter who he was with, they would do the same.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, somehow completely forgetting that he was due to perform the next day, which he reminded you of. "Oh! That's really exciting." If you were honest, you were distracted by how he's grown up. He used to be this cute boy that you would trade your fruit snacks for cookies with. But now he was incredibly handsome but still had those captivating eyes that could make you melt.

"This is amazing, I can't believe we ran into each other like this." He pulled you into another hug that brought a blush across your face. You were in a daze as he introduced you to the 2 other guys with him but you didn't really catch their names. You just noticed that they were also incredibly handsome. "But hey, if you're free tonight, we should catch up!" You agreed, thankfully.

And you could say the rest was history but beyond that one fateful day/night, you haven't seen Mark. A full year and a half later, you were entering your second Christmas without him but unfortunately, you weren't able to go home to your family to distract yourself from the boy you wanted to be with during the holidays. Not usually the type to be into overly romantic gestures, you uncharacteristically were craving the experiences that couples usually had in the movies. Your sisters told you countless times to stop watching Hallmark Christmas movies but you really couldn't help it when there was nothing else to watch on TV.

December 23rd. You were staring at your miniature Christmas tree that you had bought for your small apartment. The rest of your apartment was fully decorated in an effort to fill the emptiness you felt but it didn't seem to help much beyond wishing that Mark were there to experience it with you.

It was a perfect Christmas, the snow was falling outside and you reminisced about that rare snow day you had in your West coast town. That day was incredible. It was Christmas Eve and the whole city shut down due to the influx of white that they rarely had to deal with. Mark had banged on your door and begged your parents to let you go out and play despite it being Christmas Eve. That day was spent building snowmen, having snowball fights and everything before everyone went home and passed out to wake up to a white Christmas.

Mark had expressed to you that he missed that the most. Those snow days where everything shut down and you could just go out and be free to run around and have fun. You wished to be able to send some snow to him. But instead, you called him.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He said in a gravely voice as he had just woken up.

"I'm okay, just miss you a lot." You pouted and he copied your expression. "But look!" You showed him the view outside your window, including the snow capped trees and pillows of white on any surface it could cling on.

"Oh my god, that's beautiful." He sighed. "I wish I could be there to see it with you. I hate that you're alone this year for Christmas."

"It's okay." You flash a weak smile. "My coworker is going to drop off some food for me from her parents. I'll just have a Harry Potter marathon."

"Okay. I'll join you for that." He smiles. "My present for you should be showing up soon. I hope it gets there before the 25th."

"Hard to say. Doesn't matter if it does or not, I'm just happy to get something from you." You ease him of his worries. He often got worked up over the smallest things and you found it cute the way he would furrow his eyebrows in frustration only to breathe a sigh of relief when you told him to do so. You were his comfort and he was yours. Even if you were thousands of miles apart.

"I have to get going, love. I'll talk to you later okay?" He says and you are confused as he usually never has nice to do before noon. But you shrugged it off and assumed he just had some year end things to work on.

"Yeah I'll talk to you later. I love you." You blew him a kiss and he did the same before hanging up.

To be honest with yourself, you were starting to hate saying goodbye. Your heart would feel so heavy whenever a call ended and recently, that feeling got worse and worse with every call. Things were starting to feel like they were all for nothing. You trusted Mark and knew him well enough to know you were the only one that would be on his mind but that physical aspect was something you were craving. The simplest things like just being in the same room while you were both quietly working on your own things, exchanging loving glances every so often.

You dozed off watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and was woken up on Christmas Eve by the blinding white of the snow capped exteriors. Confused, you searched for your phone to check the time: 9:27. Mark has never failed to call you at 8AM every single day. It was your routine. It was your ritual. You send him a message but his phone doesn't even receive it. Is his phone off? You ask yourself. He did sound a bit off yesterday… Or was he just tired and groggy? Maybe he's having a late night in the studio. He said he didn't have anything scheduled for a few days though. In an effort to mitigate your panic, you throw your phone to the other side of your bed.

Forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make some coffee to try to dull some of the panic you were feeling. He wouldn't just ice me out on Christmas Eve. He's probably just tired and fell asleep before he could call, you convinced yourself.

It was nearing lunch time and you still didn't hear from your boyfriend. You had spent the morning curled up on the couch watching Disney Channel Original Christmas Movies, trying to distract yourself but every time something romantic happened, you sighed and wished for Mark. His phone still wasn't receiving your messages. Had his phone died?

In desperation, you text the only other person you knew who was close with him: Johnny. You had met Johnny that day that you ran into Mark but never processed it until you began watching their performances on YouTube. Mark had given you Johnny's number so you could apologize for ignoring him but you would occasionally ask him for favours. Usually asking him to get something for Mark from you. He often said, "I only do this because I love Mark and you love Mark."

You [11:34AM]: Hey Johnny? Are you awake?

You [11:34AM]: Merry Christmas, by the way!

It was almost 4AM so you would be surprised if he was still awake but he often stayed up late with Haechan so you figured it was worth a shot.

Johnny [11:39AM]: what's up?

Johnny [11:38AM]: Merry Christmas to you too :)

You [11:40AM]: is Mark okay? I haven't heard from him since last night. I'm getting worried.

You watched as Johnny's message bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. He was hesitating…

Johnny [11:42AM]: he's fine. You'll probably hear from him soon ;)

You [11:42AM]: ?? What's that supposed to mean?

Johnny simply replied with a shrug emoji and you wished you could send a punch through a text message. But you sighed and continued sipping on your hot apple cider as you pressed play on another movie. Johnny doesn't lie so I'll believe him for now.

You had somehow fallen asleep and you only realized when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. Without even checking the caller ID, you press the green answer button and put it on speaker as you tried to pull yourself out of the afternoon nap haze.

"Hello?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"Hey baby, sorry I've missed your messages. Johnny said you were worried about me?" Mark's voice shook you awake. You scrambled to sit up before picking up your phone and taking it off speaker to hear him more clearly.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

He simply laughed, "I'm okay babe. I'm sorry for worrying you." He apologized again.

"No, it's okay. I was just worrying over nothing. What were you doing?"

"I was at the airport." He said and you could tell there was something up by the tone of his voice. Mark could never lie to you even if he tried.

"And?"

"And I need you to come pick me up." He teased and you became even more confused which made you a bit upset as you didn't like being led on.

"Mark I can't, you're in another country." You roll your eyes even though he can't see.

"Baby, I'm not. I'm here." And it finally clicked in your head.

"Wait! You're here? Like here? Like in the same city?" You try not to scream.

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you better but the snow delayed things…"

"It's okay I'll come now!" You practically yell into the phone.

"Drive carefully!" He warned you before hanging up.

Like a tornado, you tried to clean up your apartment so your boyfriend didn't think you were a complete slob. At the same time, you were trying to pick out a cute outfit and do your hair in an effort to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

With your best effort, you shrugged when you checked yourself in the mirror before pulling on your parka and heading out the door. As your car warmed up, you reminded yourself that Mark had seen you at your literal worst. From the late night mental breakdowns to a hungover morning from having a few too many drinks with your coworkers, Mark had seen it all and always assured you that you looked amazing. Maybe he was lying a few times during those moments but he never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect for him.

You did your best to drive calmly to the airport. There wasn't much of a choice as the other cars on the road were also trying to get to their destinations safely so traffic was moving at a slower pace. After what seemed like the longest car ride you've ever taken, you pulled into a parking stall at the airport and checked your phone to see that Mark had sent you the gate he was at, waiting for his luggage. You practically sprinted across the parking lot and road, having a few close calls with other pedestrians and a few cars. But you couldn't help yourself. You were finally getting to see him.

Arriving at his gate, you tried to catch your breath as you scanned the crowd around the baggage carousel looking for Mark. When the two of you finally made eye contact, you burst through the crowd and jumped into his arms. You thought you would tackle him down but he was surprisingly strong and not only caught you but picked you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him like a koala baby. People aw'd and some even clapped while others pulled out their phones to candidly capture your reunion.

"You're here." You choked back tears, breathing in his scent and making sure you locked it up in your memory for future use.

"I'm here." He breathed into your ear which triggered the tears to start falling. He placed you back on your feet but steadied you in the warmth and safety of his arms. He chuckled while he wiped your tears away, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know, I just missed you so much." You sniffled while looking up at him with wet eyes. It's been so long that you had forgotten that he was taller than you by more than a few centimeters. So when he leaned down to kiss you, you were surprised but also extremely comforted as a wave of warmth filled up the emptiness in your heart.

"My little crybaby." He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You clung on to each other until his suitcase dropped down from the chute. Hand-in-hand, you led him to your car. Amazingly, you navigated the whole way there while beaming up at Mark the whole time. He reciprocated but occasionally pulled you to the side to avoid running into someone else.

The car ride back to your apartment was just full of you two talking about anything and everything. From when he planned all of this and how he managed to get out of his activities to Johnny almost ruining the surprise when he struggled to say something that would both ease your worries but not let you in on the secret. The whole time, Mark's hand was on your thigh as you needed both hands to properly manoeuvre your car through the snow. You sometimes caught Mark looking outside with pure wonder and amazement as he took in the image of the city blanketed by the snow. The smile on your face never left as you tried to process every moment with him to keep in your memories.

"So how long are you staying?" You say as you take the elevator up to your apartment. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you had a feeling that your boyfriend who was usually uncomfortable with physical attraction, wouldn't keep a hand off of you the whole time he was there.

"I have to leave the day after Christmas." He says quietly.

Trying not to be upset by the short time together, you reminded yourself that it was better than nothing. "We'll make it work." You say simply to him while learning up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mark felt overwhelmed by your apartment. The moment he stepped in, he was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges. He tried to take as many mental notes as he could while walking around and taking in every single detail of your place. This was your home and he felt like every little knick-knack strategically placed by you was a piece of you.

"Here." You handed him a cup of apple cider to warm up.

"Thank you." He added a kiss to your temple. Suddenly remembering something, he let out a little gasp before placing his cup down on the coffee table and going to his backpack. He pulled out a box wrapped in red paper and a golden bow that was slightly flattened from its journey to the other side of the world to you.

"What's this?" You ask when he places it in your hands, taking a seat next to you.

"Just open it." He smiles. The excitement was practically bursting from him as he anticipated you opening the box.

"Your gift is probably on the doorstep of your mom's place right now." You sighed.

"It's okay baby, I can't wait to open it but just open yours now." He said.

The lid lifted to reveal a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a little purple gem dangling from it. "Mark…" you coo, your eyes welling up with tears again.

"Are you going to cry again?" He laughs and you playfully poke his side. "I know purple is your favourite colour… It's not much but I thought you'd like it." He said softly while he fixed it around your neck. You smiled up at him before you situated yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs.

"It's perfect." You kiss him, "what else did you get me?" You pull back when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"What do you mean?" He stared blankly at you.

"You said it's not much so where's the rest of my present?" You say mischievously.

"You said it's perfect but you want more?" He cocks an eyebrow up.

"Well… I haven't seen you in a year and a half, there has to be more." You tease.

"I'm your present aren't I?" He smirks, grabbing the bow from the box and sticking it onto his head.

"I guess…" you laugh while leaning in to kiss him again. "You're lucky you're cute." You say as he stands up, making sure to wrap your legs around him before turning towards your bedroom.

#nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct blurbs #nct blurb #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark Lee fluff #mark Lee imagine #nct mark fluff #nct mark imagine #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop blurbs #kpop scenarios

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ppaperheartss · 4 years

Text

Confessions Of A Trained Assassin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: In which a baking mishap leads to secrets being exposed in the early hours of the morning

Warnings: some swearing, a load of fluff

A/N: I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible to make this oneshot more inclusive :) if anyone notices any details that make this less gender neutral please let me know. Any feedback and comments are appreciated!

Being a trained spy and assassin, Bucky knows a lot of things that he shouldn’t.

He knows that whenever Sam is working out in the gym alone he’ll listen to the Dreamgirls soundtrack, and his rendition of “And I Am Telling You” isn’t half bad.

He knows Steve has to write his phone passcode on the inside of his wrist under his watch strap every morning because he always forgets it, being the old man that he is.

He knows Stark likes to watch Disney movies when he struggles to get to sleep.

He knows Natasha can’t tell her left from her right and always has to use her fingers to check.

And Y/N… well, he doesn’t know anything.

You weren’t a new addition to the team - you had been there longer than Parker had - but Bucky just got so tongue tied whenever he was around you that his mind went fuzzy.

He doesn’t have a crush on you, though, no matter how much Sam tries to get him to admit it. No, you just have this weird power over him. When you first arrived at the compound everyone was shocked to see the super soldier so bashful. His cheeks tinted red and his posture sunk as he shook your hand, and his sheepish smile matched your curious one.

He couldn’t hold a conversation with you for longer than a minute before leaving. His palms get sweaty and he can embarrassingly hear all of the gears in his metal arm whirr whenever you’re around. Your presence makes him nervous (but in a good way), and he can’t seem to control himself. The best way he can find to cope with it all is just to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible.

There was no way you intimidated the six-foot and pure muscle of a man, so did he just not like you? You talked to Natasha about it, and she just gave you a knowing smile and said he really didn’t not like you. Your mind melted that night trying to figure out her riddles.

“Earth to Bucky. Hello?” Bucky blinked back into reality as Sam waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim lights of the restaurant Steve had taken the whole team as a celebratory meal for the last successful mission. You had been undercover in Japan and were the guest of honour, and Bucky (despite hating Thai food) couldn’t say no to a meal in your favourite restaurant. He wacks his hand away and sinks back in his chair, gazing around the table.

You were seated almost directly across from him, between Tony and Steve. Bucky smiled as he watched you laugh and smile with your teammates, running your fingers through your hair absentmindedly. He watched as the rings that adorned your fingers shimmered in the light, and your eyes had a similar twinkle in them. Your eyes latched onto his and you threw him a cheeky smile - nose scrunched and mouth open wide - and all Bucky could do was sink back into his chair further.

He had been a charmer back in the day, but now all of that confidence had disappeared and he could barely manage to maintain eye contact with anyone he found remotely attractive for more than five seconds.

He missed the pout on your face as he looked away.

The door swinging open from the kitchen caught everyone’s attention and the table grew silent as the group anxiously waited for their food to arrive. A few waiters made their way over, calling out the meals they had and handing them over to their designated person.

“Pad Thai?” A waiter called out, and you squealed excitedly as you raised your hand, signalling it was yours. The waiter moved over to you, holding the plate with a small dish towel.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” He warned, moving to put the plate down in front of you. But you took it from him with ease, thanking him with a cheerful smile. The waiter stares at you almost in shock, and Bucky can’t help but notice the steam rising off of the plate and the way your fingertips glow red. But you don’t flinch, barely even notice the way your fingertips shine at the onslaught of blisters ready to form.

Tony notices the peculiar interaction before touching the plate. He recoils, hissing loudly and dumping his fingers unceremoniously in his glass of water.

“Christ Y/N, that’s fucking burning.” He exclaims, and you simply laugh in response.

“I didn’t even notice. Must be too excited to eat it.” You respond, and Tony laughs as he shakes his head.

The kitchen is quiet as Bucky stirs the mixture delicately with a spatula. He couldn’t pronounce what he was making - it was a Sokovian dish Wanda had talked about months ago. Steve had told him that it was nearing Pietro’s anniversary and he wanted to do something nice for her - she had been helpful with his recovery back into normal life.

He enjoyed times like this; alone with his thoughts. He hummed a song he remembered hearing as a kid back in Brooklyn. His mother loved music. Bucky had three jobs at the time to save enough money to buy her a record player, and she would let him pick what record he wanted to listen to as she made supper. He remembers teaching Becca how to dance to his favourite song by letting her stand on his feet and guiding her around the living room.

Pouring the mixture onto a dish he puts it into the preheated oven and leans against the counter as he sets a timer. He doesn’t know how long he cleans up for before he hears soft footsteps padding into the kitchen. He recognises that it isn’t Steve (he knows what Steve’s walking sounds like), and when he turns round he sees you with a mishevield head of hair and a sleepy smile.

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” you say as you jump up on the countertop across from him, peeking into the oven. “What is it?”

“It’s for Wanda,” he says as he finishes drying off the last of the dishes and begins to put them into their cupboards. Anything to keep him distracted from how welcoming you look, sitting there in fuzzy socks and pyjamas. “I think it’s a cake.”

“You think it’s a cake?” You snort, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s Sokovian, so your guess is as good as mine.” he says, turning round to face you. “Why are you up so late?” He asks, wringing the slightly damp dish towel in his hands.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say mischievously, but he notices the bags under your eyes. You sigh at his silence and shake your head. “That mission was rough. My mind is running a mile a minute.”

He frowns sympathetically at you. “What did you do out there? That mission was long - what was it, two weeks?”

“A month,” you say, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. “It was pretty grim, seen some things I wish I never had.”

He notices how standoff-ish you’re being with your answers, and decides not to push it any further.

You notice his understanding of your emotions, and are glad he doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Dinner was fun, wasn’t it?” He asks, and you quirk a brow.

“I thought Thai food wasn’t your thing.” You respond, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s not.” He answers truthfully, and you just laugh at him. “But it was your night, and I wanted to be there to celebrate with you.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back genuinely. His gaze drops quickly when he feels his cheeks begin to burn, and you open your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is this the longest conversation we’ve ever had?” You ask, and he sighs as he drops his head.

“I don’t-” He gets cut off by the beeping of the timer, and jumps to open the oven quickly. He grabs the tray with his metal arm - forgetting about the new heat sensors Stark had put in each of the fingers - and he yells out at the searing pain that quickly travels up his arm.

“Bucky!” You yell, jumping off of the counter and quickly catching the dish before it smashes on the ground.

“Wait, Y/N no-” Bucky watches - more in astonishment than awe - as you put the dish on the counter with ease and hold his hand, looking for any signs of damage.

“Can you move your fingers?” You ask, and when he doesn’t respond you look up to see him staring right back at you. “What is it?”

“How did you do that?” He asks, standing up straight with you.

“Do what?” You question, happily oblivious to how strange your actions were.

“You just held a searing hot glass bowl without even flinching. You did the same at the restaurant with the plate.” Your face grows hot at the realisation that he caught onto these little things, and you laugh awkwardly as you drop his hand.

“It’s uh- it’s embarrassing.” You admit, and Bucky tilts his head like a confused puppy.

“Y/N,” he says, and you sigh.

“When I was younger… I was never allowed to eat anything without my parent’s permission. So one night I decided to rebel and eat a whole carton of ice cream - without a spoon. I’ve lost all feeling in my finger tips because of it.” Bucky stares at you for what feels like eternity, before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God,” he manages through laughter and you shove his shoulder.

“It’s not funny!” You defend yourself, but the sight of tears of mirth rolling from his eyes has your doubled-over alongside him.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes out, wiping his face. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug with a cheeky smile on your face. “Now you know something about me that no one else does, and I’ll kill you if you ever tell anyone.” You threaten.

He grins, holding his hands up in defence. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, nudging his shoulder as you turn to make sure the dish didn’t get ruined. He watches you with a happy smile on his face. A sudden surge of confidence takes over him, and he inhales deeply.

“If you love ice cream so much, let me take you out to this ice cream parlour I know sometime.”

You turn back to him, and he grows bashful under your gaze. But you smile, reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze. “I’d love that.”

You both look at each other for a painfully long moment, and with the last ounce of confidence in his body Bucky leans down to capture your lips in his.

There is something Bucky knows about you that no one else does - what it feels like to kiss you in the early hours of the morning.

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the---hermit · 3 years

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Tag 9 people to learn about their interests!

Tagged by @just-a-cup-of-anxietea thank you 💜🌿

MUSIC

Favourite genre?

I grew up listening to metal and rock, and that's where my heart is. Expecially symphonic metal. But I also listen a a lot more.

Favourite song?

I could say so many songs, if I really have to pick just one I would say Fear Of The Dark by Iron Maiden. That's the song that made me fall in love with music as a kid.

Most listened song recently?

Lately I have been really into Rain Paris' covers, she's really good.

Song currently stuck in your head?

Below My Feet by Mumford and Sons

5 fave lyrics?

Although I felt like giving up

It's not the road I chose

The path less often traveled

Held the highest, the highest of hopes

(The Curse Of The Fold by Shawn James)

Man, he took his time in the sun

Had a dream to understand

A single grain of sand

He gave birth to poetry

But one day'll cease to be

Greet the last light of the library

(The Greatest Show On Earth by Nightwish)

The first thing I ever heard

Was a wandering man telling his story

It was you, the grass under my bare feet

The campfire in the dead of the night

The heavenly black of sky and sea

(Song Of Myself by Nightwish)

And suddently Hades was only a man...

(Epic III from Hadestown off Broadway)

You can be every little thing you want nobody to know

(Wilder Mind by Mumford and Sons)

BOOKS

Favourite book genre?

I have a thing for the very first horror/scifi/fantasy that bloomed in gothic litterature at the end of the 1800s. I have no idea if that counts as a genre, but I have always had a thing for that part of litterature, and when I don't know what to read I usually just go for something that falls under this category

Favourite writer?

Neil Gaiman, and many others, but if I have to pick just one that's him. His writing style, the topics, everything is just perfect for my taste in writing.

Favourite book?

I usually say Frankenstein by Mary Shelly cause that is a great way to present the type of story I like. I was also lucky cause I read that book in the perfect moment of my life to connect with it amazingly. At the same time I feel like I am lying because to only pick one single book is so reductive.

Favourite book series?

I have commitment issues, I don't usually go for series. I would like to cheat by saying The Lord Of The Rings, but Tolkien considered it a whole book. Other than that the only full series I have read is Harry Potter. ( I have also read a few books from the Percy Jackson series, which I enjoyed at the time. And last year I started reading The Witcher series, which I am really liking but I am only two books in and I don't know if that would count).

Comfort book?

The Humans by Matt Haig. Anyone who knows me, or has been following me for a while knows about this, amd no I will never shut up about it until everyone has read it. It just gives me hope in a way didn't think was possible. (Also shout out to The Hobbit cause it just makes me feel so good)

Perfect book to read on a rainy day?

Okay so not an easy question. I think I would either go for a short book that I could read in one sitting or a collection of short stories. For the first category my first thought was Tarocchi Magici E Cavallereschi : La Vera Storia Di Rolando by Marcello Simoni. I have no idea if this was translated but It was a great retelling of the medieval story of Rolando I read last year, I'd love to re-read it. For the second category any short story collection by Neil Gaiman. I particularly love Trigger Warning.

Favourite character?

How can you ask me to pick just one? I love the Creature of Frankenstein, I connected so much to that character. But also Herger from Crichton's Eaters of the Dead is a character I love. I adore his positive spirit and his way of seeing life. At this point I should also mention Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit, one of the characters that I feel more close to me.

5 favourite quotes from your favourite book(s) that you know by heart?

Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.

(Frankenstein by Mary Shelley)

A paradox: The things you don’t need to live—books, art, cinema, wine, and so on—are the things you need to live.

(The Humans by Matt Haig)

Don’t aim for perfection. Evolution, and life, only happen through mistakes.

(The Humans by Matt Haig)

Herger said to me, "Be thankful, for you are fortunate."

I inquired the source of my fortune. Herger said in reply, "If you have the fear of high places, than this day you shall overcome it; and so you shall have faced a great challenge; and so you shall be adjudged a hero.

(Eaters Of The Dead by Michael Crichton)

Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.

(The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien)

TV AND MOVIES

Favoutie tv/movie genre?

I have no idea. I don't know if I feel different about the genres I watch the most. You know what? I'm gonna go with animated movies because at the end of the day that's always the best option when you don't know what to watch.

Favourite movie ?

There is so many movie. In my family we religiously rewatch a bunch of movies every year, how could I pick just one? I'm gonna go with Young Frankenstein cause that movies is hilarious, and everytime I rewatch it I laugh as if I didn't know all the jokes already.

Comfort movie ?

Honestly it depends on what type of comfort I am looking for. I could go with a couple of my favourite disney classics like The Emperor's New Groove and The Lion King. But also The Hobbit and The Lord Of The Rings movies. This list could go on for days honestly.

Movie you watch every year ?

The list would be way too long, I am a serial rewatcher. I can say a few I haven't mentioned yet. Big Trouble In Little China, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, Wasabi, The 13th Warrior, Lo Chiamavano Trinità and A LOT of other movies.

Favoutie tv show?

The answer to this has changed many many times through the years, but I can confidently say Brooklyn Nine Nine.

Comfort tv show?

Brooklyn Nine Nine, Friends, and I know there's something else but I can't think of any title at the moment.

Most rewatched tv show?

I could say Supernatural, but I really don't want to say Supernatural. I have watched The Mentalist a fair amount of times (the first couple seasons). Now that I think about it I have seen Lie To Me a lot of times aswell. B99 too but I disn't awant to be too repetitive.

5 fave characters?

I don't know if this is supposed to be on tv shows or movies so I will randomly list a few from both. Bilbo Baggings from The Hobbit (yes I am saying it again BUT you don't understand how much I feel like him cause I also both want and not want to go on an adventure). Rosa Diaz from B99, Patrick Jane from The Mentalist, Elizabeth Swan from The Pirates Of The Caribbean. I know it's just four but I can't think of anyone at the moment.

I tag (no pressure) : @anxiousoptimist101, @contre-qui , @justanotherstudyblrinthecrowd , @starrystvdy , @sage-studies , @occhicerchiati , @fly-away-from-here , @illuminatingnun and @outsassing-nero, plus whoever whats to do this just pretend that I tagged you!

#i wrote this the other day after i had slept till 1 am e then travelled for like 5 hours #i have edited it once but my brain is still kind of a mess which means there might be a few errors here and there and for this i apologize #i will probably spend the next two weeks editing this everytime i look at it #ANYWAY this was really fun!#tag #tagged #tag game #get to know me #studyblr #bookblr #just a cup of anxietea #mutuals #friends #the---hermit #cris speaks

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)

a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo

***

Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.

She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.

Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.

It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.

A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.

(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)

Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.

Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

***

A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.

A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.

(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)

But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.

The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.

Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.

A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.

She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.

It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.

(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)

There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.

Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.

“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”

“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”

Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”

“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”

“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.

“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.

“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”

“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”

Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”

“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”

“Joshua. Joshua White.”

Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”

“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.

“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.

“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.

Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”

A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.

Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”

“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.

***

Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.

Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.

So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.

It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.

Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”

Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”

“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”

Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”

“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.

A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”

“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”

A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”

Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.

It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.

It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.

But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.

It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.

“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”

Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.

“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.

“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.

“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.

Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.

***

This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.

The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.

The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.

Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).

And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.

A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.

Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.

“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”

A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”

“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.

“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”

“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”

Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”

“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.

“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”

You do have that person. I’m that person.

A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.

Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).

She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.

“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”

A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.

“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.

“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.

“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.

But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.

Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.

When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.

She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.

The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.

“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.

When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.

“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”

“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”

Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.

“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”

“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”

Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.

However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.

“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”

When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”

A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.

“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”

“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.

A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.

“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.

Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.

“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.

When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.

When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.

“I love you too.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #i don’t know how i know (but I know)#ortega #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #british au #lesbian au #teachers au #fluff

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore.

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

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