#realizing i never settled on how to tag characters... eh whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spiralinghours · 4 months ago

Text

“Into the White” (Part 6/?)

Fandom: Saw franchise

Rating: PG-13?

Characters: Mark Hoffman; Eleanor Bonneville; some Mark x Eleanor in a messed up way; Brad; Ryan; Brad x Ryan; Lawrence Gordon; William Schenk; mentions of: Corbett Denlon, Pamela Jenkins, Brit, Mallick, and Simone

Tags/Content: fat fetishism/feeding kink; Stockholm Syndrome; weird power imbalance play and some submissive tones?

Summary: This really dips in and explains more why and how Brad and Ryan forgot about Hoffman. And Hoffman? He kinda forgot about them. Eleanor didn’t forget anything and is trying to hold it together.

Author’s Notes: Not a WHOLE lot of kinky stuff happens here, it’s mostly plot and tying up ends that I didn’t explain well previously. Still have mentions of Mark being cuddly though. And as always, if I messed up anywhere I will probably fix it later. Just point it out.

What Corbett would later find out, on that afternoon that Daniel and Brent hadn’t shown up to the sandwich shop, was that one of them was just sick, and the other had been ticketed by the Jersey State Patrol. But no one was able to tell her.

Brad and Ryan didn’t particularly care about the why’s of it, but felt worn in their wasted efforts. Still, they went on to group as normal, and guided Corbett along to be nice.

The daily circle had become bigger, but was only slightly varied from the last time: Simone, Brit, Mallick, a more relaxed-looking Pamela, all the carousel survivors… and then someone in a chair staggered ever so behind the circle. It was a stranger—a new guy, definitely a younger guy. Had to have been fifteen at the most. Dark features, swirling black hair, anxious eyes…

“Jesus, they’re getting so young,” Brad whispered to Ryan, pointing with his eyes towards the boy. “It’s like we were saying the other day.”

“That’s pretty fucked up.”

“I know…”

The moderators differed week to week, month to month, switching around between clergymen to better-adjusted survivors who were long term attendees (which there weren’t many; that latter category usually implied a special guest appearance by Dr. Gordon; they had gotten pickier after the recent Dagen fiasco).

This week, it was a regular ol’ man of the cloth going through the motions of asking if any newer attendees had anything to say. “I see one or two fresh faces,” the old man prompted.

Realizing no one else was rising up, the young man just outside the perimeter slowly stood up. “Hi, I’m William. Eh, Will.”

Everyone echoed back with the “Hi, Will” like a chorus of seals clapping mindlessly.

Will’s eyes shifted uneasily, never fully looking up, never quite settling on one face or one focal point.

“Do you want to say anything about why you’re here?” the old pastor or whatever he was pushed on.

“I uh… It’s still hard to talk about… But I did lose my dad.”

There was a groaning, grumbling wave over the small crowd, sort of commiserating about how awful that must be. Pamela reached back and patted him on the shoulder kindly. A couple faces appeared quizzical (though still sympathetic), trying to gather what game or trap this kid’s father had been in. Huh.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here now,” the old man went on.

“Yes we are,” Ryan mumbled to himself, gears turning inside.

——

An overly sweet redolence of candied chemicals and cherry blossom… and a hint of weed or cloves or something smokey… tickled Mark’s nose through the tips of red tendrils. He nearly sneezed, but held it together when he blearily realized his arms were wrapped around a smaller figure. Like holding a doll. The crown of her head bumped against his prominent nose as he stirred, trying to move more carefully.

They must have fallen asleep on the couch watching one of the many Law and Order variations (Mark didn’t care which at any given time, but wondered if the way he spoke with colleagues as a detective ever sounded like the forced dialogue of the shows).

Eleanor twisted around in his embrace. (When had he actively clutched around her? Was that on purpose?) She sleepily nuzzled her cheek into Mark’s plush chest and snaked her arm over the curve of his hip, his plump love handle giving her a softly-fitted crook to prop into. Even while asleep, her smaller hands roamed over the tender crevice of his back.

“You’re warm,” she mindlessly murmured.

He couldn’t stop the thought, reflexively wanting to react with a “I could kill you right now.”

But he didn’t. He also knew the intimidation would be broken with her simple-sweet response of “You won’t.”

And he wouldn’t.

Maybe the banter, the back-and-forth playful threatening, was fine and regular enough during their waking hours. But Mark felt weird not constantly being on edge, not having to pull a gun or a knife at any given second. Having someone around him who hadn’t stabbed him or purposefully put him in danger was strange. He still wasn’t sure what to fully make of his housemate (She was that now, wasn’t she?), but it was the most comfort he placed on a person in a long while.

A gradual smile started to spread, but died halfway. Who even was he before? Who was he now?

“Do you wanna go to bed?” Mark’s thickly dark voice curled out of his lips, so low that even if Eleanor was fully awake she might not have heard it. He squinted at the nearest clock (which was luckily functional given that it was another one of those trivial, cat-shaped thrift pieces). Two in the morning.

Eleanor’s auto-reply came in the form of rolling into a further tucked-in position against his chest, burrowing into the pillowy surface, pleased and cat-like.

Mark may have been a little too big to remain wedged in comfortably, but he wasn’t going to move. Never a good idea to disturb wild animals, no matter how sweet they look while sleeping.

——

“So this is—was—a Jigsaw lair?” Will squeaked, sounding more pleased and illuminated than expected.

“Brad!” Ryan stared his partner down, eyes beaming harshly in the dark. “I thought the less we said the better!”

“I mean… he asked!” Brad bumbled. “What’s that gonna hurt? He’s already part of group! We all know about Jigsaw shit.”

“Yeah, some of us more than others.” Ryan’s eyes widened pointedly. He turned his attention to Will. “Whatever. Kid! Can you just keep watch for us by the door here? This’ll only take a quick moment.”

Will nodded his head with a forced pucker of seriousness. It didn’t come across at all. He looked goofy and unsure.

As Ryan descended first, flashing on his small pocket torch, he made a quick scan, just to be sure Hoffman wasn’t secretly hiding above the entry, waiting to drop down. (‘As if he could get himself up there,’ he reassured.)

Nope, all clear. In fact, alarmingly clear. While Hoffman very well could have been asleep, something felt off, stale and still in the moldy air. Even the remaining corpses felt more animated.

“He’s gonna be pissed that we didn’t bring any food,” Brad sighed, trailing in behind.

“Fuck. I don’t think we have to worry about that.” Ryan was struggling to hold in the oncoming tantrum, trying to not set Will off, and generally trying to not draw any kind of attention.

Both of them scurried from corner to corner, almost tripping over Xavier and Zep as they rushed to the pipe Hoffman had been chained to.

Nothing.

Even the shackle was closed and locked, as if he had materialized out of it.

“Fuck,” Ryan swore again, “I shoulda known.

“What’s if he’s hiding in here with us? Damn, this is how we get killed. Hoffman’s gonna kill us!”

“Probably! Eventually!” Ryan raked antsy fingers through his sweat-matted shag. “But not here. He’s out there somewhere. Probably waiting for us! GOD, if you hadn’t stopped coming to check here! Goddamnit, Brad!”

“Me?! You weren’t either!”

“Because I thought you were!”

“Why couldn’t we just keep going together?”

Ryan stared him down sternly. “You can just say you forgot. You let things slip a lot.”

“So do you!”

“Not as much as you!”

“It was only a week or so!”

Ryan shot a look: disappointment twisted with sour worry.

Brad clasped his hands to his temples, moving as though he was going to attempt escape by crushing in his own skull. “Okay! So I started to slack! But after a while…”

“After a while WHAT?!”

Brad squeezed at the soft flesh over his cranium harder and harder. He was starting to spiral. “This is gonna sound stupid, but… I started to worry that—Ugh, this is so dumb, but what if Eleanor DID get in here and find him? What if she set him free? Or worse, what if she stole him?!”

“Stole him??? Kidnapped him?!” Ryan had already started to chortle out of discomfort, but now he had to have a genuine laugh. “Do you seriously think she could do that? She’s too small to lug him around. And where would she put him? What would she do with him?”

“I told you it was dumb,” Brad pouted.

“Listen,” Ryan calmed his chuckling, lowering his voice to a calm drone, “we lay low, keep cool. If he was gonna find us he would have done it by now. But we can also, I dunno, talk to Eleanor again? I doubt she did anything, but just in case…”

——

“What if we dyed your hair?” Eleanor mused aloud. “Haaa!!! What if we put a little green in it?!”

Mark could tell she was only half-joking, and hoped whatever scowl he was forming was enough to telecast his opinion.

“Can we do SOMETHING to it?” she kept on. “It would be fun!”

“For you. I’d like for my hair to not fall out.”

“What if I do one little streak? Aw, please, Mark?” There was the glittering, pouting charm, obviously fake and yet not entirely ineffective.

Mark simply shut his eyes with exhaustion, matching the worn scowl that spread across his full lips and dipped into his scruffy chin.

Petite, cold hands began encircling his neck from behind, causing Mark to wonder if this was finally the “surprise” instance that he would be choked to death while caught off guard—too relaxed and softened to do anything.

Eleanor moved her hands further down, squeezing at his traps, smoothing down his broad shoulders, and culminating in a draping hold with her chin tucked against his neck, her hands playing at his stomach (the place they automatically seemed to go most often).

Something from some old children’s educational program rung out in the recesses of Mark’s brain… Something about people who owned snakes letting them crawl around and hug them like jewelry… and those same snakes strangling those owners in their sleep, attempting to consume them.

He kept quiet.

“If we go to that pizza place you like so much, will you think about it?” Eleanor’s chiming voice drifted into Mark’s ears so adoringly. She rubbed the sides of his belly, pressing tenderly into the firmness of its bulk, smiling at how much heftier he would feel after being plied with a pizza or two.

“Could I get arugula and prosciutto?” Mark mumbled, feeling some odd blush creep up his chubby cheeks. “Maybe a sausage and pepperoni one, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Mark tried not to look too excited, too glitzy-eyed over the offer, but pizza sounded so good and he was such a sucker for it. It felt like he hadn’t been treated to it as often as he once was, and—

Brad and Ryan. Oh yeah, those two dipshits.

He widened his eyes at the dumb realization, a strange tension gripping him. Were those two looking for him? Surely they were, or planning something.

So smoothly his days had hazed together, too distracted and padded by pink décor and scented candles and the droning of the TV as he slept off another meal. It had all pulled him out of the immediacy of being hunted down and eased him into some plasticine piece of domesticity.

But…

In the passing weeks nothing had happened to him. How bad could it be? How terrible would it be to just forget about the apprentices, the cops, the FBI? Eleanor may have kept him in a gilded cage, but at least it was spacious and cozy.

His shoulders lowered, releasing the flood of thoughts as quickly as they had hit him.

Maybe that was it. He could just be some guy.

And if anybody found him? Then what? Nothing really seemed to matter too much anymore.

——

The meetings with Dr. Gordon had become more sparse and, when they did occur, they were literal drive-by’s. The current occasion landed Brad and Ryan in some random alley in the industrial zone (they were a dime a dozen, though), Lawrence staring them down from an idling car, sunglasses on, window rolled just a crack. He was nothing if not immaculately cautious. Or tried to be.

“Been a bit since we heard from you,” Brad nervously half-chuckled.

“I got a little more time with my daughter this week and I wasn’t about to waste it,” the doctor sneered. (Damn, he seemed to get sassier every time they encountered him. Divorce and a little suppression for flavor really did it.) “Speaking of, good job doing away with our problem. Demolition on that forsaken place is supposed to be tomorrow at dawn.”

“At dawn” sounded so dramatic. Ryan tried concealing the face he couldn’t help but crack.

There was no actual confirmation or denial of how or if Brad and Ryan had taken care of the problem. And that was fine. They were working on it. Just get Dr. Gordon off their backs for a while…

“Yes, of course!” Brad finally thanked (for nothing).

“I hopefully won’t have to reach out to you for anything for a while. Thank you boys.” A curt roll up of the window, and the doctor was gone.

Once the car was out of sight, Ryan slumped down, torso hanging over his legs, hands on his knees. Relief.

“That’s it, yeah?” Brad half-smiled, unsure.

“You know what? Fuck it. That’s it. We’re fine. Well, at least as far as he goes. We’ll check in with Eleanor one last time. If she doesn’t know anything, then we’re fine.”

Ryan collected himself, stacking back upright, exhaling deeply. He pressed a kiss to Brad’s temple and dragged him out of the alley.

——

“I can’t believe you suggested THIS place for dinner,” Ryan exhaled.

“It’s on the way home!” Brad tried defending, eyeing the sign for the 10th Street pizza joint just as it rose above them. “Besides… I do like it here.”

“Better be glad I like you,” Ryan jabbed, words muffled by the incoming peck he placed to Brad’s cheek.

The front portion of the place was smallish, sort of narrow, but had raised ceilings, making the bell on the door echo slightly. Some movement from the corner of his eye grabbed Brad’s attention. It was blurred and red.

“Is that Elle?” Ryan whispered, tucking close in by Brad’s ear.

“Oh? Nice. Hey, Eleanor!” Brad turned to give a small wave.

Eleanor didn’t smile or wave back. In fact, she looked rattled. Additionally, some hulking figure sat across from her in their booth, obscuring most of the table’s view. There was something recognizable about his flak jacket? Raincoat? The dark material and the up-flipped collar… When it turned, the silhouetted features were obvious: big nose, full lips, dark tufts of hair falling forward…

“You guys know Mark?” Eleanor piped up, sitting backseat as she witnessed herself asking the stupid question.

#eleanor bonneville fic #mark hoffman fic

5 notes · View notes

lululawrence · 5 years ago

Text

Annual Writing Self Evaluation

Thank you for the tag @louandhazaf!!! I’m honestly clutching my chest that you tagged me, so thank you xxx especially since i love this little self eval that i think @juliusschmidt came up with all those years ago and we just keep perpetuating it haha

this... is going to get long, though. since it asks me to list my works published this year and that is 24. so. here goes.

1. List of works published this year:

Swerve the Handshake (Nick/Louis)

Need So Much of You (Harry/Louis for @onedirectionbigbang)

You're A (Total) Distraction (girl!direction and hybrid Harry/Louis for @wallsficfest)

Always Keep You Next To Me (Greg/Louis for @wallsficfest)

With Your Hand In Mine (Nick/Louis for @wallsficfest)

Smells Like Omega Spirit (Harry/Louis for @1daboficfest)

If Only We Wish Hard Enough (Harry/Louis for @disneydirectionfest)

Political Pizza (Harry/Louis for @wordplayfics)

Talk the Night Through (Harry/Louis for @wordplayfics)

Wrinkles (Harry/Louis for @1000feelingsfics)

Would You Be My Girlfriend? (girl!direction Harry/Louis for @wordplayfics)

Lately You've Been On My Mind (Harry/Louis for @wordplayfics)

Don't Want It Any Other Way (Harry/Louis for @wordplayfics)

I'm Ready for the Worst (Greg/Louis for @louisandmenfest)

Loving You's the Antidote (Nick/Harry/Louis for @finelineficfest)

Do You Know Who You Are? (Harry/Louis for @finelineficfest)

Don't You Call Him (What You Used To Call Me) (Harry/Louis for @finelineficfest)

Gone Too Long (From You) (Harry/Louis co-written with @fallinglikethis for @finelineficfest)

Just Me and the Stars Can Get Lonely (Niall/Rory McIlroy for @heartbreakweatherficfest)

The Way You Bend the Rules (Niall/Rory McIlroy for @heartbreakweatherficfest)

And Then I Saw His Face (Harry/Louis for @1dtrickortreatfest)

I'mma Give You A Promotion (Nick/Louis)

What You Waiting For? (Nick/Harry for @1000feelingsfics)

(I'm Dreaming of a) One Night Inn (Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam, Niall/Shawn)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

every time i think about this question i’ve got a different answer, to be honest. i do think my I Go Down Blazing, Feeling Like I'm Going Crazy series is probably what i’m most proud of, though. as soon as i knew @runaway-train-works was going to be hosting the heartbreak weather fic fest, i knew i wanted to write dear patience, but as the idea grew and grew and more ideas solidified and i realized what the story was turning into, i realized it was so much more than i originally thought and i needed a second song to help me fully get a solid grasp on it. in the end, it was a hard duo of fics to write, mainly because i honestly don’t know much of anything about golf, i was still trying to create fully the way soulmates worked in the world, and there’s just not all that much about rory online to find, so i was winging it haha but i’m so incredibly happy with the world i made and the fics i wrote, even if i don’t know that they’ll ever get to like 200 hits or whatever hahaha i love them.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

uhhhhh you know looking at this list of fics i have, i’m actually proud of every single one for some reason and i don’t know if there’s any of them that i’d even label as “least proud”.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

i hate this question and forget that it is on this list every year lollll let me see if i can find something i really like. okay i found one, it’s from my long grouis haha and i’m apologizing now for it being so long. you can skip ahead to the next question if you like, but i’m just incredibly proud of the banter and the way i wrote this section, PLUS those damn joggers actually happened because he posted a photo of himself wearing them in the shops on instagram and that inspired this entire thing so. enjoy. (i’ve italicized it and indented it to hopefully make it easier to skip it’s so long i’m so sorry)

“It’s safe for you to come back in here,” Louis called out as he closed his computer.

“Thank goodness, I was getting so exhausted of hiding in your bedroom and snooping through all your shit,” Greg said as he walked out wearing a sheet mask and a pair of grey joggers that did nothing to hide what he was packing.

Louis smirked and wanted to say something, but Greg kept going.

“Did you know you have like five different deodorants in there?”

Louis threw his arm on the back of his couch and nodded.

“Why?” Greg asked, throwing himself down onto the couch and placing his stupidly long legs on top of Louis’. “Who legitimately needs five different deodorants? Do they have different uses or something? Some were even women’s deodorants, so I wasn’t sure if they were your sisters’ or what. Oh, and I helped myself to one of your fancy toners. It had rosewater in it or something.”

“Well, for the deodorants I just like trying different scents and I switch them up based on my mood. And actually, the one I use most often is a women’s deodorant. It works great. Plus I smell fresh and clean like baby powder all day.” Louis shrugged. “And that wasn’t my toner. Dunno who left it. Just showed up one day and no one says it’s theirs, so I kept it. It’s quite nice, isn’t it? Lotts said it’s supposed to help even out the PH balance of my skin or some shit, but I’ll be fucked if I know what that actually means.”

“Oh, that does sound fancy,” Greg agreed, checking the time on his phone. “I’ve got five more minutes on this mask, don’t let me forget. Don’t want to leave it on so long it burns my skin off or summat.”

“Sure,” Louis said, laughing. “So are you actually wearing anything under these or are you just that excited to see me?”

“Eh?” Greg asked before looking down at his crotch. Of course, now he was sitting down it didn’t show anything. “What are you on about?”

“Stand back up and look in a mirror, mate,” Louis said, laughing. “You’re dick was trying to tell me hello a minute ago.”

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Greg muttered as he shifted so he could stand back up again. He walked into Louis’ bedroom, and Louis could hear when he’d seen himself. “Oh my God, that’s obscene! Does it always look like that when I wear these?”

Louis laughed and walked into his bedroom to see Greg’s eyes wide as he shifted himself around and walked a bit, appalled that no matter what he did, nothing seemed to make it any less there.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never seen you in those. You usually nick a pair of mine,” Louis reminded him. “Do you wear them without pants often?”

“I never wear pants with these,” Greg said, rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, I’ve likely given that nan that lives below me too many looks at my cock without even realising it. They’re my softest, most favorite pair of joggers! I wear them to the shops when I’m too knackered to get fully dressed!”

As Greg continued to narrate the various escapades he’d had over the years in the joggers without even realising what he’d been doing, Louis settled onto his bed, propping himself up on his elbow so he could still watch Greg as he motioned about in distress.

When it was clear Greg wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon, Louis pulled out his phone and started filming. There was no one he could share this with, but it would be good for a laugh later on.

“Fuck, and you didn’t remind me to take off my mask!” Greg cried, rushing back into the bathroom to remove the sheet mask and do whatever else he had to do when he used them.

Greg was proper obsessed with them, said they were relaxing and kept his skin soft. Louis just liked knowing they were one of Greg’s things, like taking regular baths with a bottle of wine and perusing various adoption websites for dogs he could possibly give a good home to.

“Sorry, love,” Louis said, as Greg walked back out of the bathroom. He really was sorry, but he also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to keep taking the piss. Greg was too much fun to rile up. “Was distracted by your big dick flopping about whilst you remembered all the good times you’d had in the joggers.”

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

i’ve had a few this year that told me they don’t usually read that pairing or they don’t usually comment on fics, but for various reasons they gave the pairing a try or wanted to comment because of something specific and those were particularly lovely. that said, every comment is so so great, they really do boost me up to see them and i need to do better with getting my anxiety in hand and responding to them regularly.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

this entire damn year, man. all of the time i’d carefully carved out for myself over the past few years to write was basically blown to shit with the pandemic, which also was so exhausting it didn’t leave me with much energy to write. but i still somehow posted 24 fics?? i dunno, dude. i think writing saved me and gave me something to look forward to, tbh.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

most of my advent fic, tbh lollll a lot that was in there wasn’t really brainstormed ahead of time, it just happened, and i forgot some of the details even because i just flat out didn’t remember what i’d put in there, so i’m STILL surprised haha i love when fics happen like that

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i always think of challenges as fun and then i look back and wonder if i was insane because i thought it would be fun to try something new but it was mostly really fucking hard haha i wrote a lot of pairings and combinations of tropes this year that i never have before as well as stretching myself with writing emotions and situations i never have before, so i’m quite proud of myself for continuing to push the envelope and try new things like that.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i mostly hope that i’ll be able to carve more time out for myself as things HOPEFULLY settle down a bit more. i might not be as impulsive when it comes to choosing things to write at that point, but we’ll see. lol

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

i... hmm. there’s a lot of people i’m thinking of right now, but it’s hard to choose just one. i think actually there were two and they were @louandhazaf and @disgruntledkittenface. i very much admire both of them for their own writing and works, but i am particularly inspired by how many pairings they write and the variety of fics they have posted. it’s definitely because of them that i’ve tried writing a lot of the pairings that i have, and that’s before you even start to look at the help they’ve given me with betaing certain fics (usually rare pairs lollll). they’re just both so supportive and open to so many things, and i am so much more open to all sorts of things because of them. i CANNOT answer this without mentioning the Write Your Way Out GC either, though. Y’all are my crew in SO many ways and you let me rely on you in every way through this past year. it really does take a village, doesn’t it?

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

lmao i’m sure. but all i’m thinking of at the moment are the tumblr posts and canon compliant shit i based the fics on, so nothing off the top of my head apparently haha

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

hell if i know. maybe just... write for yourself. i think that’s why i’m so proud of every fic i wrote this year. i really was writing for me and if others like it too? bonus.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

my big bang!!! that’s the big one. i’m so excited for it. i have a whole list of other fics, too, though. hahaha i’m also super SUPER excited for both of my omega harry fics to post hehe

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@becomeawendybird @sadaveniren @londonfoginacup

*All answers should be about works published in 2020. Also, you can skip any questions you hate or don’t want to answer, but please leave them on the list so that others can do them if they want.

#mine #2020 writing meme #self eval #writing self eval #writing stuff

31 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 7

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin, Fourth Uncle

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education

Summary: A little making out, and family time.

Notes: Soft chapter, but one that was difficult to write. Definitely look up the song Wei WuXian plays on the dizi. There’s a version on YouTube played with the xiao, and it’s lovely. Last week of summer semester, so it might be a bit before I update.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

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

Though at first their teeth collide a few times, Lan WangJi discovers that kissing, as with anything else, is a skill one can improve with practice. He is startled a bit when Wei Ying opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, but he finds the sensation of his tongue against his own more than enjoyable.

He finds it even more enjoyable to be able to finally give attention to the mole under his lip that has taunted him all these years. Wei Ying seems to realize his focus because he laughs, joyous and breathless and beautiful.

Lan WangJi hooks his arm around Wei Ying to pull him closer, but he freezes at his pained hiss.

Of course; Wei Ying was injured by Wen Ning, and likely hurt himself last night falling to the hard cave floor in his haste to escape the dog spirit.

As much as he would prefer to continue this, Lan WangJi forces himself to stop. He can’t help but remember Wei Ying’s reminder that their union hasn’t been consummated, and that doesn’t make it easier. He has, after all, been waiting since he was fifteen.

“You are injured,” he says softly, sitting. “And malnourished.”

Wei Ying pouts, but doesn’t protest vocally or move to get up, which tells Lan WangJi he truly is in pain, and judging from the way his eyelids are drooping, absolutely in need of more sleep.

“I will meditate here, and we will have breakfast together when you wake. We should also discuss my brother’s impending visit.”

“Ah, I guess you want to tell him we’re married, then?” Wei Ying says with a sigh. “Can we at least ask him to keep quiet about it until after shijie’s wedding? She deserves better than to have her happy day overshadowed.”

Lan WangJi has not, in fact, thought yet of how he will tell his brother he married Wei Ying all those years ago and neglected to tell him. But he does agree that the news should not detract from the marriage of Jiang YanLi and Jin ZiXuan, though he disagrees with the idea that the their marriage could be a dark thing.

“Agreed, but…”

He pauses, considering how to say what comes next, how not to risk driving Wei Ying away again.

“Please consider telling my brother you no longer have a golden core, if not the circumstances,” Lan WangJi finally says.

He is relieved when Wei Ying doesn’t pull away, only grimaces, but his relief is short-lived.

“You think he’s more apt to help if he knows I’m broken,” he whispers.

Lan WangJi feels his jaw drop, horror rising as he realizes just how deeply Wei Ying’s self-loathing goes. He wishes he could assure him of his own worth, but he also knows it will take time to convince him. But this, he knows, is his fault. He did not help Wei Ying until he knew the truth, when he should have helped from the beginning, should have trusted him.

Does Wei Ying believe he pities him? The idea chafes.

“You are not broken,” he tells him, “and certainly not simply by virtue of being without a golden core.”

Wei Ying snorts derisively.

“Then what am I? A cultivator who can only cultivate on the crooked path?”

Lan WangJi gently pulls Wei Ying closer until he’s pillowed in his lap, until he can look at him directly, if upside down.

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying. You need be nothing more.”

His zhiji looks away, his eyes shining in the dim candlelight. Lan WangJi feels helpless in the face of his despondency, knows he is in part the cause.

“I haven’t even told Jiang Cheng. He’s going to be so angry.”

He understands; the secret involves his brother, and he has a duty to tell him first, regardless of how long it will be before he sees him next. Wei Ying’s public break with the Jiang clan makes that uncertain, and it is not the sort of revelation that would be appropriate in a letter. In fact, if it were known he sent a letter to Jiang Cheng at all, problems could arise.

Perhaps XiChen could send one on their behalf, though, asking Jiang Cheng to at least visit in secret.

“I will tell no one, Wei Ying. Not even xiongzhang, if you do not wish it. But… eventually you will no longer be able to hide it.”

Lan WangJi strokes Wei Ying’s cheek, hating to have to think about or reference the inevitability of his mortality. Hating that it is an inevitability.

“I ask only that you consider it, nothing more. I will honor whatever decision you make.”

Wei Ying doesn't reply, instead curls closer, shifts until his face is hidden against Lan WangJi’s side, his arms around his waist, his body further in his lap.

“You are not broken,” he repeats, running his hand through Wei Ying’s hair. “You are beautiful and honorable.”

He wishes the rest of the world could see Wei Ying as he does.

In the silence, he has little to focus on, noting the brittleness of his hair, how it seems as unhealthy as the rest of Wei Ying. But Lan WangJi has never had much opportunity to touch him this way—after XuanWu and when he fell after Wen RuoHan’s death notwithstanding.

Neither are pleasant memories, particularly the latter. The image of Wen RuoHan dangling Wei Ying by the throat over the steps of Nightless City still fills him with dread. He was certain then he was about to witness his zhiji’s death, to watch his neck snapped, to see him tossed aside like a broken doll.

Afterward, in the days he was unconscious, watching the bruises around his throat fade slowly, fearing he may never wake again as his spiritual energy did not seem to be recovering… It did not recover, but it was not, as he suspected then, due to demonic cultivation.

Lan WangJi wishes he realized sooner. He will always wish that he somehow was able to help Wei Ying more, will always feel the sting of having failed him for so long.

Wei Ying’s breathing evens slowly as he falls asleep, and Lan WangJi matches his breathing. Though he has never attempted meditation with someone in his lap, his zhiji’s presence is soothing, and he slips into the necessary trance easily.

He slips out of it just as easily a couple hours later when he hears footsteps approaching their chamber of the cave. From the sound, very short legs, the pace puttering against the stone and dirt of the cave.

Lan WangJi is unsurprised when a-Yuan enters. The child surveys them quietly for a moment.

“Xian-gege sad?” he finally asks.

Only then does Lan WangJi remember that Wei Ying is asleep in his lap, arms still twined around his waist.

“Mn,” he says with a nod.

Because despite Wei Ying’s happiness at his insistence that he indeed wanted to be married to him, his request regarding his brother upset him. And it had taken far too much convincing for his liking for Wei Ying to believe he was worthy of him.

“Hugs make me feel better when I’m sad,” the child says. “I can hug Xian-gege, too.”

Lan WangJi nods again, and a-Yuan toddles over and chooses the most expedient way to deliver a hug: flopping onto Wei Ying and then hugging him.

He resists the urge to scold the child when Wei Ying wakes with a pained grunt, and instead lifts a-Yuan off, settling him on one knee.

“Ah, a-Yuan, be careful,” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice a bit strained. “You’re getting big.”

“Xian-gege needed hugs. And gugu said you need to wake up for breakfast. And popo said you’re too skinny.”

“Popo always says that.”

Wei Ying winces when he sits up, which lets Lan WangJi know Wen Qing should examine him. He hopes he will not injure as easily once he’s in better health.

“She is not wrong, Wei Ying.”

He pulls a face in response, but can’t help but laugh when a-Yuan imitates him.

“All right, all right. Let’s go eat.”

Lan WangJi is relieved when Wei Ying doesn’t need help getting up, though he doubts very much he would ask if he did. He carries a-Yuan with them, and the boy seems content with being carried.

“I did not inquire yesterday about bathing facilities,” he comments as they make their way to the communal area.

Wei Ying laughs shortly.

“‘Bathing facilities.’ You’re so proper. We have a river, Lan Zhan. That and basins and rags. That’s about it right now.”

The river was practical, but not in the long term. Perhaps that was something to address with Wen Qing, then, whether tubs could be purchased. Before winter, when bathing in a river would be less than ideal.

“I know you’re used to better, but I’ll show you where later today,” Wei Ying says. “Honestly, I’m probably overdue for a wash myself.”

“Xian-gege stinky?”

Wei Ying drops back to tickle a-Yuan.

“Stinky, eh? You just wait, stinky radish. I’m sure your gugu will want us to give you a bath, too.”

“A-Yuan not stinky!” the boy squeals with a giggle.

Wei Ying darts in and makes a show of smelling him.

“Oh, my little radish is ripe. It’s almost time to pick him and cook him up for dinner!”

“No cook a-Yuan!” he shrieks, still giggling, as they enter the communal area.

“Oh? Should we sell the little radish at market instead?”

“Noooooo! Gugu, tell Xian-gege!”

Wen Qing scowls at Wei Ying, but it’s without heat, a sort of play-acting likely affected for a-Yuan’s amusement.

“I swear sometimes you’re a child yourself,” she mutters.

“Xianxian is three,” Wei Ying sings with a grin.

“Brat,” she says, rolling her eyes, her voice fond.

They’re a family here, Lan WangJi has come to see. The closeness of their relationships brings light to the darkness of the Burial Mounds. He is glad they have been there for his zhiji when he has not.

Wei Ying winces when he settles on one of the seats and Wen Qing’s sharp gaze catches it. She looks between them with an expression that looks far too amused, and despite the fact that her assumption is incorrect, Lan WangJi can feel his ears heat.

“Dog spirit,” he explains. “Wei Ying fell.”

Wen Qing’s expression shifts to concern. It’s clear she knows of Wei Ying’s phobia.

“The damn thing came back again?”

Lan WangJi glances at Wei Ying—he didn’t mention it had bothered him on previous occasions.

“Bad dog,” a-Yuan contributes.

“Lan Zhan eliminated it this time,” Wei Ying says, avoiding both their gazes.

Wen Qing shoots him a grateful look.

“Last time he knocked into the cave wall and almost broke his nose,” she tells him. “Hopefully all he’s got this time is a few bruises, but at least it won’t be back.”

She turns her attention back to Wei Ying.

“I’ll examine you after breakfast to be sure. Cooperate or I’ll make you.”

“Aiya, no needles, Qing-jie! No need to bully me.”

Wei Ying grabs a-Yuan from Lan WangJi’s lap to use as a shield. The boy just giggles, like this is a common occurrence. Knowing his propensity for dramatics, it probably is.

“A-Ning is giving you double portions today,” Wen Qing continues, ignoring his antics. “And I’ll trust Hanguang-Jun to make sure you’re not feeding it to a-Yuan. He’s getting plenty, too, and we have radishes ready to harvest in a few days so we’ll be fine with food for a little while at least.”

She glares at him when he looks like he might protest.

“You’re unhealthy and everyone is worried about you. Popo was encouraging me to use needles and find a way to shove it down your throat earlier. Don’t think I won’t resort to that.”

Wei Ying, thankfully, takes her seriously enough to behave throughout breakfast. He eats enough that even popo, who seats herself at their table and manages to look both sweet and intimidating throughout the meal, seems satisfied.

True to her threat, Wen Qing has popo take charge of a-Yuan and drags a lightly protesting Wei Ying back to the Demon Subduing Cave to be examined. Lan WangJi hesitates, but follows at his zhiji’s pleading look.

“Sit,” Wen Qing orders when they’ve reached the alcove “I want to make sure you didn’t break anything, at least. You have horrid luck. Where did you fall?”

“Shoulder and hip,” Wei Ying says with a resigned sigh. “But it’s really not—”

He goes silent at her glare, which Lan WangJi has to admit is formidable.

“Don’t even,” she huffs. “You always lie about your injuries. Strip.”

Wei Ying, to Lan WangJi’s surprise, actually blushes, glancing at him. Wen Qing takes notice, looking between them.

“Ah, you told him, then?”

She looks almost amused.

“Wait, you told her?”

Lan WangJi almost winces at the bit of hurt in his tone.

“That he’s besotted with you? Any fool could tell, except you,” Wen Qing snaps.

“I did not tell her,” Lan WangJi confirms.

He is a little concerned when a slightly gleeful look passed over Wei Ying’s face, replaced with one that is utterly fond.

“So I was the first one you told that you handfasted me when we were sixteen?”

Wen Qing makes a noise that sounds almost like a choke, looking at them uncertainly.

“I did not even tell xiongzhang,” he confirms. “I would tell no one without telling you first.”

Wei Ying’s expression turns to one of adoration, and Lan WangJi starts mentally reciting the Lan principles, as he is sorely tempted to revisit their morning activities.

Wen Qing is still staring at them, and Lan WangJi takes pity, explaining in brief what occurred in the Cold Spring cave, with Wei Ying contributing details. He finishes by explaining the meaning of the forehead ribbons in a wedding ceremony and the bow to Lan Yi as essentially an elopement.

“You’re married?” Wen Qing murmurs, her voice hoarse with shock. “Married.”

Her gaze turns shrewd.

“Has it been consummated?”

It’s Wei Ying’s turn to choke.

“Qing-jie!”

Lan WangJi doesn’t trust himself to answer verbally and simply shakes his head.

To his surprise, she starts pacing, hands clasped behind her back. He didn’t expect her to be someone who paces.

“And you want to be wed, correct?” she asks after a moment.

Wei Ying’s “definitely” and Lan WangJi’s “of course” are simultaneous.

“Good,” she says, her tone surprisingly emphatic, as she turns to them. “So you’ve had quite an extended engagement, and we can figure out what this idiot gave as courting gifts since you bought a-Yuan toys and provided the Burial Mounds with money. I hate to simplify what is obviously a love match to political terms, but you need to consummate before Zewu-Jun arrives, in anticipation of the question of its validity.”

Lan WangJi can feel his ears heating, and Wei Ying’s face blushes more fetchingly than before. Wen Qing looks between them, and her brief look of glee is ever more concerning than Wei Ying’s was.

“Well, since you’re both clearly virgins—”

She ignores the “hey!” from Wei Ying.

“—and I am familiar with all forms of sexual hygiene as a doctor, I’ll go ahead and explain exactly what you’ll need to do to make it a safe and enjoyable experience.”

Wei Ying’s jaw drops. Wen Qing gestures for Lan WangJi to sit, and he’s honestly grateful to as she starts talking. She brusquely yanks Wei Ying’s robes from his shoulder to check his injuries as she does, and Lan WangJi has to avert his gaze from his zhiji’s milky skin to avoid reacting to it.

He cannot deny he has thought quite a bit about what he wanted to do with Wei Ying very often almost since first meeting him. Wen Qing’s very detailed and blunt explanations make those imaginings far less fuzzy than they were before. She even includes a discussion of aftercare, advising they keep a basin of water and rags nearby for the “mess.” By the time she’s finished, Wei Ying’s very red face is buried in his hands, and Lan WangJi has to avert his gaze as she pulls his trousers away from his hip, revealing the curve of one bruised buttock.

“And I guess I’ll have to send Merlin-yi to market for the oil,” Wen Qing says as she wraps up both her lecture and her examination. “I’ll send a-Ning, too. Even if we can’t provide a proper banquet, a marriage deserves celebration. You’re family, Wei WuXian, and we’ll do our best.”

“Qing-jie,” Wei Ying whispers, sounding touched.

She offers him a smile and shoves his robes at him.

“If we could afford red silk, we’d throw a whole wedding. You don’t mind the others knowing, right? They’ll be very happy for you.”

Lan WangJi glances at Wei Ying, careful to keep his eyes on his face—he may be wearing trousers, but he might as well be naked and it’s terribly distracting. The look on his face assures him he doesn’t mind, so he nods affirmation to Wen Qing.

“It’s just some bruising, thankfully,” she assures them. “I’d put on salve, but I heard you discussing bathing at the river, so I’ll leave that for later. It’d be a waste to apply it twice.”

Wei Ying pulls his robes on, still red in the face.

“Right, a bath.”

His gaze is shy when he looks at Lan WangJi, who is trying to imagine how they’ll get through bathing together without engaging in some of the activities described by Wen Qing.

Some of that thought must have been apparent to Wei Ying, because his face flushed again.

Wen Qing snorts.

“Not so shameless after all, are you? We’ll be sure to give the river a wide berth.”

Wei Ying’s response is to hide his face in his hands again.

“We will bathe separately,” Lan WangJi states, pulling Wei Ying to his feet.

Wen Qing just laughs at them.

When they reach the river, which is a short trek from the settlement, Lan WangJi insists Wei Ying bathe first, pulling the fragrant soaps he uses for his body and hair from is qiankun pouch for him to use. He knows they are likely a luxury, and he is happy to share it with him.

He plays his guqin while his zhiji bathes, starting with “WangXian” and moving into “Cleansing,” infusing the latter with spiritual energy. He is pleased when the resentful energy in the area eases, and hopes it helps Wei Ying as well.

When Wei Ying returns, clad in fresh robes, he takes his own turn to bathe. The water is chilly, but not inordinately so in the summer heat. He is pleased when the notes of a dizi fill the air, playing “WangXian” as well. Though he composed the song with the guqin in mind, the rendition Wei Ying plays on ChenQing is lovely. Lan WangJi is glad it has brought him comfort.

The notes shift into what he recognizes as “Plum-Blossom in Three Movements,” a song he rather likes but didn’t know Wei Ying knew. Lan WangJi has heard xiongzhang play it on the xiao and can play it on the guqin, though it was originally composed for the dizi. But he shouldn’t be surprised; Wei Ying is a master of the six arts and has displayed such with references to literature and poetry even in his playful moments.

The plum blossom is an apt symbol for the resilience of life on the Burial Mounds and for Wei Ying, who always endured despite the hardships he faced. Perhaps the song is an expression of Wei Ying’s hope, his faith in Lan WangJi. He wants to give his zhiji hope, longs to ease his hardships.

When he has finished and dressed in fresh robes, he rejoins Wei Ying and asks if he may comb his hair.

He uses his own sandalwood scented oil, giving it the proper treatment.

Wei Ying is swaying slightly when he finishes, the pampering lulling him nearly to sleep. Lan WangJi longs to style his hair, to put it in the GusuLan style as though Wei Ying was marrying into his clan. But he is not, and so he refrains.

Instead he brushes the hair from the nape of his neck, leaning forward to brush his lips against the soft hair there.

Wei Ying shivers and turns to him, pulling him in for a proper kiss before taking the comb and hair oil from him to return the favor.

Lan WangJi didn’t expect the sensuality of his husband brushing his hair—husband. They’re married. Wei Ying’s deft fingers make short work of his tangles, gently spread oil to treat his hair, grazing his scalp in blossoms of sensation, love in every touch.

Wei Ying braids his hair, his fingers weaving the locks with care, and Lan WangJi lets him. He is not in Cloud Recesses, not required to wear his hair in GusuLan style. When it is finished he turns to see a flourish of red, Wei Ying having used his own ribbon to tie off the braid.

And so it is natural to braid his hair in return, to weave the sacred ribbon that usually rests on his forehead in his hair, leaving the cloud symbol at the top, adorning the top of the braid like a jewel.

“Your forehead ribbon?” Wei Ying asks, startled, when he catches sight of the very pale blue ribbon tying his hair off.

Lan WangJi cups his cheek in his hand, moving forward until their noses are almost touching.

“Airen, you may touch it.”

A soft smile blossoms on Wei Ying’s face, and he rests his forehead against Lan WangJi’s.

“Airen. I like that,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a while, basking in each other’s presence.

#my fanfiction #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #chen qing ling #cql #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wen qing #wei ying #lan yuan #wen yuan

21 notes · View notes

fromsolowithlove · 5 years ago

Text

Like a Sucker Punch - Complete

WARNING: REAL PERSON FANFICTION w/ Adam Driver & Daisy Ridley (Daiver)

WARNING TAGS: NSFW, INFIDELITY, CONSENSUAL INFIDELITY, EMOTIONAL INFIDELITY

Summary: Daisy gets in her head and tries to ignore unresolved feelings for Adam throughout the filming of the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy and the events that surround it. Each chapter inspired by a song from the lovely Sigrid.

Words: 11.2K

Rating: Very much E. NSFW. Unless you have a very understanding boss. Or are self-employed.

Ultimately decided to post the complete fic here on Tumblr as well, cause why the hell not? This little fic baby got its start here first anyways before moving onto AO3.

Again, this isn’t for you if you can’t stand the shipping of Daiver. In no way does this reflect my deep dark conspiracy theories. It’s just my work of FICTION. A fun outlet. An angsty rom-com, if you will, starring two people with fantastic natural chemistry.

Now that I’ve lost all my followers 😈, READ THE ENTIRE FIC BELOW👇🏽

Chapter 1 - Strangers

“How about a twenty, folks?” JJ called for a break after deciding something wasn’t quite right about the scene they were filming. Rey and Kylo’s kiss had to carry the weight of three movies worth of waiting. Everyone involved knew its scale. It couldn’t be half-assed.

“Let’s make it a tight twenty,” Adam clarified.

Daisy sat up first, letting her chest fall over her legs. She inhaled a deep breath as she felt the fatigue of the past week settle into her bones.

Adam reached for her hand and pulled her up to a standing position.

“I wish JJ would give us a little more in terms of what he wants,” he muttered.

Daisy pulled her mouth into a tight smile and replied, “Well you know what he said. He wants us to decide how the moment should go. Says we know best about how our characters would have felt finally getting to this point.”

“And yet he’s obviously not happy with whatever we’re giving him.” Adam’s voice rose, but he relaxed his shoulders and tried to shake it off. “Sorry Dais, you know I’m not frustrated with you.” He offered her a small smile in repentance, his mouth barely angling up, but eyes filled with warmth.

Daisy playfully slapped his chest with her open hand. “Uh-huh. SURE.” She turned to walk away, smiling to herself as she heard him let out a low chuckle.

She walked off to the side, picked up her water bottle and raised it to her lips. She let it absently fill her up as she stared at Adam across the way. She couldn’t believe the warmth that was developing in her stomach again. Her cheeks followed closely behind as the familiar flush returned. She wanted to slap herself.

Leading up to this point, Daisy had thought herself finally over him. Had she and Adam shared intimate moments during their prior years filming together? Of course. Skellig Michael was an especially treasured moment. After all, there had been such a small group of cast and crew present. It had made it easy to pretend this wasn’t some crazy heavy-budget movie that was resting on her shoulders. “Don’t go through the crew like wildfire!” Carrie had warned. And she hadn’t. Adam wasn’t the crew. He was her co-star. And did she know in her logical mind about the infamous co-star syndrome? Of course, she did. She quickly reminded herself of a time back at Tring Park. She had started feeling a deep fondness and attraction to her costar back in Romeo and Juliet. But just as her lines and blocking points had faded from memory with time, so had her attraction.

This thing with Adam, however, had not. And it angered her. Confused her. Made her unsure of whether she could trust herself. Made her question if she had it in her to continue a career as an actress. Would she fall for every costar she ever had? Jeez, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? No one would want to hire a walking lawsuit waiting to happen. A little voice deep inside had always told her that she was a fraud. That she didn't deserve to be in the presence of the great actors that she called friends and coworkers.

“You know… I’ve got this friend who’s working on casting ‘Into the Woods’. I could throw your name her way. I see you as the perfect Milky White.”

Suddenly, Daisy was snapped back to reality by a teasing voice to her right. She raised her eyebrows and side-eyed the man who had been occupying her thoughts.

“What?”

“You know. Because you just finished that water bottle in one swig and cows really love water,” Adam began to explain.

“I thought that was camels?”

“Nope. Cows.” He paused for a brief moment before adding in, “Yeah, definitely cows.”

“You’re an odd one, bestie,” she teased.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

As if I had a choice. Trust me, I’ve been trying to put up my distance, she thought.

Before she had a chance to respond with another snarky response, JJ called an end to their break.

Another deep breath.

“Shall we resume the most frustrating scene ever, then?” she asked Adam.

He shuffled his feet and gazed out to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. “Very true. I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Ehhh, it’s all me. You’re perfect as always, Adam.” She blushed and ran off, chiding herself for acting like a stupid school girl.

Despite her embarrassment, the break must have helped. Only a few takes later, Daisy found herself in the most comfortable staring contest with Adam. It was a moment that she wished she could have frozen forever.

Except that she shouldn’t have been thinking of Adam. She should have been thinking of Ben.

At the realization that she was letting her personal feelings bleed into her acting, she wrinkled her nose in frustration. “DAMN IT," she shouted. "I’m so sorry everyone! This next one is it, I swear.”

Adam reached over and placed his hand over hers. He gave her a small smile and she quietly cursed her heart. Its increasing pace threatened to give her secret away. “It’s okay," he said. "I feel it too. We’re almost there.”

Both of them were right, and JJ declared the last take as “THE ONE”. The room erupted with whooping and hollering. Everyone began circulating with hugs, thank-yous, and high fives. Daisy second-guessed going over to Adam, but knew it would be even more telling to avoid him.

When she reached him, she did her best to give a small hug. Adam, however, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in tighter.

“Well, it’s been great,” she started. “Thank you so much. It’s truly been an honor to work with you, Adam.” Her eyes started to well, knowing things between them would never be the same again. Hell, they hadn’t been this whole time.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry.” Adam’s words were barely louder than a whisper.

“For what?”

“You know. For everything. For making things weird between us. I, I never should have -"

“Never should have what?” she challenged. Should have let me fall in love with you? Treated me like I was yours? Let me believe we could ever be more than this great act of pretend? Those last thoughts rattled at the gate of her mouth, but remained hers to keep.

He glanced down, unable to handle her gaze that begged him for words he couldn’t say out loud.

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about Adam. It’s been nothing but the best professional experience.”

He winced, and for a moment, Daisy almost felt guilty. But the anger and pain returned swiftly. She felt all too happy to have made him feel what she imagined to be only a small fraction of her own torment.

“To our amazing leads!” someone toasted a few feet over. “I’ve worked on a lot of movies, and it’s rare we get two incredible actors like you both. You made me believe I was watching a true relationship unfold, not just two really well-acted characters. To Daisy and Adam! To making us believe in the unreal.”

Everyone cheered in agreement around them and Daisy felt her heart rise up to her throat.

Exactly Dais. The unreal.

Suddenly, it was all too much to handle and Daisy could no longer stand to be around anyone. She gave them all a quick glance, muttered thanks and ran off. Once she returned to her dressing room, she turned her speakers back on. She started laughing through runny tears at the irony of Sigrid’s lyrics that filled the space.

When the curtain drops

Our touch is just a touch

Not like in the movies

Our story’s after the end

Like strangers

Perfect pretenders

We’re falling head over heels

For something that ain’t real

It could never be us, eh

Just you and I

Chapter 2 - Mine Right Now

Two Years Earlier

“Amazing work, both of you! Now go do something fun. Relaxing. Happy. Today’s scene was so emotionally taxing. I couldn’t bear to be responsible for any dark spiraling that follows today.”

“Oh, it's really alright. I take full responsibility for my own dark spiraling, Rian,” Adam joked.

“Well true as that may be, I am serious. You've both earned a night of not thinking about work. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Rian gave them both a quick hug before leaving them to finish gathering their things.

Daisy cleared her throat before she could back out. “So, what do you say, Driver? How about a little drinky poo?” She wiggled her eyebrows at her co-star suggestively before bursting into laughter.

“Sure. As long as you promise not to judge me for ordering a cocktail.”

Praying that her face wasn’t showing her utter shock, she continued to push her luck. “You’re kidding! You never go out! With the crew. With me. Mysterious Adam Driver slums it with Daisy Ridley? What would the missus think?!”

“Dais…” She watched as he ran his hands through his hair, certain that she had crossed a line.

“Sorry. So sorry. Uncalled for.”

“I just don't like to talk about Joa-, my wife a lot.”

Of course, he didn't. Not with coworkers at least. She was kidding herself to think they were anything more than that. Trying to salvage the situation, she asked, “Too late to throw in my white flag?”

He stared at her longer than he ever had outside of filming. “Not at all. But let's head out before it gets too late. I've got an early training session tomorrow.”

Relieved that she hadn't completely blown it, she felt her heartbeat pick back up. This was really about to happen. She was going to be alone with Adam and, by orders from the boss man himself - prohibited from talking about work. “Right, of course. I'll meet you outside in five?”

He gave her a small nod before turning to leave her to her things.

Her bag was already packed, but she used the next five minutes to compose herself. Tonight would be uncharted territory. Her relationship with Adam had grown into a fond friendship over the last two years. And so had her attraction to him. She rationalized it to herself as the intimacy of a truly trusting professional relationship. After all, they had to trust each other with abandon to pull off the demands of stunts and emotional scene work. Still, somewhere deep down she knew that for her, this was more than just trusting a coworker or friend. On the other hand, she could happily say that she wasn't the only one guilty of flirting now and again.

When she met him outside, he led her to his car. She was tired beyond her wits and grateful to have him drive.

“Where to?” He asked. “The Bridge Bar?”

“No. That's where the crew always goes.”

“Don't wanna be seen with the big bad villain, huh?”

“Yes. I mean, no!” Words escaped her as she tried to explain herself. “All I mean is that...I agree with Rian. Today was a lot. And I'd rather not have to socialize with anyone at the moment.”

“Oh. I can drive you back to the hotel, then. I just thought...since you had asked...that -”

“I'm trying to say I just want to be alone with you!” she blurted.

“Oh.” Her frustration built at Adam's sudden lack of articulation and her blatant confession.

“God. That sounded creepy as hell. Please, can we forget I ever opened my mouth? Just take me to get a drink somewhere, Adam. Anywhere but the Bridge Bar. Please.”

His eyes met hers for only a moment before he drove off with a quick nod.

The drive couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. Yet somehow, it was both the longest and shortest stretch of time. Adam, apparently still shell shocked by his pushy costar, hadn't said anything to her. Well, except to point out a few key places of local history. Fear brewed in her stomach as she resigned herself to the fact that he would probably call his agent after this. He would make his agent promise that he'd never have to work with someone as unprofessional as her again.

The silence was good for one thing, though. She figured her career and their relationship, working or otherwise, were both soon to be over. So she used the time to check him out free of shame. She focused first on his hands. The way his fingers tapped like a pianist against the steering wheel at every stop. It made her wonder how they would feel tapping against her skin. His legs were still too large for the space, despite his seat being pulled back to the furthest setting. In fact, if she were to straddle him right now, she'd likely slide right down his thighs. It'd bring her right where she wanted to be, pressed up against his hardness. She pictured the intimacy of that position, how his face would be easily within her reach. How she could run her hands into his hair and bite down into his full lips. She'd be able to watch him lift an eyebrow at her, just like he was doing now.

Oh shit, like he was doing now. He had definitely caught her fantasizing about him.

He looked thoroughly amused. “Everything alright?”

“Course.” She refused to accept defeat and wrinkled her nose in defense. “Now stop staring at me like... THAT and let's go!”

An hour later, she was on her third pint and Adam was still nursing his first cocktail. She looked from his face to his glass and back.

“You make me feel like an alchy!”

He let a low chuckle. “I told you, I've got training early tomorrow. If I go any heavier than this, I'm going to regret it. Just trying to be responsible.”

“How about this right now? Coming out with me. Is it part of your plan to be responsible?” Oh...so aggressively-honest, drunk Daisy was here to play.

A small shake of his head. “ Honestly? Still haven't decided.”

“Is that why you never hang out with me?”

“No. You've just never invited me before.”

“That's not true!”

“In groups, yes... But you know me. I don't do…people. Large groups, anyways,” Adam shrugged.

“Does that mean if I had asked you and it was only us, you would've said yes?”

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I'm here tonight, aren't I?”

She poked him in the shoulder and elicited a small OWW. “I'm honestly quite mad now. That's critical intel you've been keeping from me. We could've been besties by now!” she whined.

“Besties, huh?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Ok. Then we’re besties. Anything you want.”

Before she could catch it, the small suggestion escaped in a rasp she didn’t know she had. “Anything?”

He gulped and met her eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just her giving in to years of repressed wants. She slowly got up from the table, still holding his gaze. She turned and started toward the back of the bar. The jury was still out on whether it was to leave the burn of his stare or to initiate something incredibly risky.

There wasn’t enough time to consider her motives when she felt her body go on high alert. The darkness of the hallway intensified all her other senses. She knew it was him even before his hand slid across her back to grip her waist. It was the way he walked so gently to avoid disturbing a space. The way he took slow calculated steps in consideration of everyone smaller than him.

Instead of turning her toward him, he closed their gap and brought his mouth down against her ear. She braced herself for the warmth of his lips but shivered as he spoke. “I’m a simple guy, Daisy. I don’t do games. I told you that you can have anything you want. And right now, I want to kiss you. Is that what you want?”

She turned around and tilted her head back to accommodate for how much bigger he was than her. The urge to wrap her hands around his neck was almost magnetic, but she fought it. It was possible that she might not survive the electricity of feeling his skin under her fingers. His hands slid down to hold her by her hips, apparently just as stubborn as she was to avoid making the first move. Hurried breaths reached her ears but she didn’t know which of them it was coming from.

She felt him studying her face and instinctively bit down on her lower lip. He seemed to acknowledge this movement as an agreement. Before she could brace herself, he said “Fuck it” and crashed against her mouth.

As soon as he felt her melt into the kiss, there was nothing tender about his attack. Her fingers laced into his hair, urging his tongue to press harder against hers. Adam lifted her up and slammed her back against the wall. At this angle, there was no doubt that he wanted this as badly as she did. She rolled her hips against his and the groan that escaped his mouth filled every hollow of her body.

It was more than she could have ever imagined. Tongues fought for dominance as they battled to memorize every curve and point of each other’s mouth. But it wasn’t enough. Now that she knew this need wasn’t one-sided, she was greedy and was going to take what she wanted.

“Bathroom,” she muttered against his lips. He understood immediately and walked them into the first door. Her bottom still sat against his forearms and legs wrapped around his waist. Once they entered, the lock of the door signaled more danger. The heat at her core grew.

She whimpered as he set her down, lamenting the loss of his body weight against hers. Her annoyance didn’t last long, though, as he flattened his palm between her legs.

“Let me make you feel good.”

“Already there,” she huffed out.

“Trust me, Dais.” He smothered her with another cardiac arrest-inducing kiss. “This is only the surface of how good you and I can feel together.”

With that, he invaded her leggings as his middle finger ran up and down her wetness.

“Oh god. Adam, I-I. Please don’t stop.”

He continued his slow teasing as she watched him swallow. “I told you. Anything you want. But not even the apocalypse could stop me from stroking you right now.”

She laughed at him. “Only you could make me feel this turned on and ready to burst with laughter at the same time.”

“Only actively trying at one of those right now,” he grunted. “But happy to help.”

Her smile quickly faded as her chin dropped and a moan broke free.

His finger ran its way up to her clit before sliding back down to push into her entrance.

He absorbed her moan with his mouth and flicked his tongue against hers. She imagined him repeating the motion where his finger was now working. She clenched but soon released. As close as she was to the edge, she wasn’t willing to let him off this easily.

She rubbed her hand against the hardness threatening to break the fly of his pants. He closed his eyes and let out a small whimper. She slowly pulled back, reaching to bring her leggings down to her knees. She turned to bend over against the sink.

“Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

She watched as Adam moved toward her slowly, each second that she waited for him feeling like torture. His hand found her entrance again, now sliding in two fingers. He pumped into her slower this time, leaning over her smaller frame.

“You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m gonna fuck you here in this bathroom. I’ve thought about this for too long to end it with a quickie. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

She worked her hips against his hand for a bit longer before accepting defeat. Immediately, part of her worried that he was using this as an excuse to break off whatever this was. But another part considered what could happen within the walls of a hotel room.

The drive back felt like punishment. The only thing that stopped her from worrying was the fact that she felt the buzz of his need for her in the air. Every glance he threw her way was full of hunger. She thanked all her lucky stars that he had only had one drink. Having to walk back to the hotel would’ve taken even longer and would’ve surely put a stop to this.

Once they got to the hotel, they navigated the lobby and hallway with caution. They both knew to keep their distance. Without discussion, she led him to her room, making out with him as soon as his tall frame was through the threshold.

Hands on his belt, she inched backward toward her bed. Suddenly, she felt Adam pull back.

His hands ran through his hair, a sure tell of his discomfort.

“We shouldn't be doing this. I've been so good at trying to keep things professional between us. From the very first table read, I saw you and knew I had to be careful. It helped to remind myself that this was your first big film. But this second film has been different. So much more comfortable. Like we’ve known each other forever. I find myself constantly wanting to be around you. Telling myself that you’ve got no reason outside of work to spend time with me is a daily routine. But then you invited me out and I got high on the thought that someone like you might want me, too. But I let it get too far. This was a mistake. I should go.”

She couldn’t believe the audacity he had to tell her those things. Her face flushed, no longer from being turned on, but instead from anger.

“Well fuck you, Adam. You're a FUCKING COWARD!”

He matched the disgust in her voice. “I'm fucking married, Daisy.”

“Oh, I'm well aware. Every day that I pretend it's only my character that's pulled toward you? I remind myself you're married. On the days we don't work together and I sit wishing you were there with me? I remind myself you're married. It might as well be tattooed on my bloody tongue considering how many times I have to tell myself. So don't pretend you're doing me a favor by telling me something that does absolutely nothing to stop me from wanting you !”

She panted with exasperation.

“It should.”

“Well, it doesn't. I’m not asking for forever, Adam. I’m just asking you to be mine right now. I know how this plays out. I always have. And spoiler alert, in no version of our story does it end with you and I walking hand in hand through a hardware store, picking out wallpaper for our future child's room. It does, however, always end with me in England and you going back to HER,” she spat out. “So either hand me that bottle of tequila so I can forget this ever happened or be a man and finish what you fucking started. ”

The hunger was back in his eyes as they dared each other to blink first.

“I'm going to hell for this,” he said through gritted teeth, taking a step toward her.

“I'll see you there,” she smirked.

Clothes flew off in a race as they stumbled onto the bed. She laid back and gasped when she saw how big he was.

Adam worked to cover her entire body with kisses that she was convinced would leave marks. “I have to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” he asked absently, lightly grazing her nipple with his teeth.

She struggled to focus, her desire battling with any coherent thoughts.

“I have a, a condition” she breathed out between moans.

“Ok,” he acknowledged, moving on to treat her second nipple to the same attention.

“It-it makes it painful for me to take anything...anyone...too...OH MY GOD. Too deep.” He blew against her nipple as she tried to finish. “And... I think ...you would get very deep.”

A smirk stretched across his face. “Then you let me know if it’s too much.” His fingers found her folds again, dripping with her need to feel him. “How should I take you?”

“Any way you want,” she breathed out. “I’ll let you know if I can’t handle it.”

Adam began to look around and she realized what he was looking for.

“Oh. And I, uh, have an IUD because of the condition. It’s actually easier for me to take you if you don’t wear a condom.”

He growled, then grabbed his length in his hand and began rubbing himself against her opening. She could feel her need coating him. She lifted her hips and he accepted her offer with a slow thrust into her center. He filled her like no one had before, except maybe a toy her sister had gifted her as a gag gift.

“Daisy…” he moaned, his solid biceps holding himself up to keep from penetrating her too deeply.

He stayed there just like that for a while, wrapped by her and taking short breaths. Knowing that he was probably nervous to hurt her sent a pang to her heart.

“I. You. You feel so good. You can give me more,” she pleaded. “Not deeper, just, it feels so good when you slide in me.”

Still balancing his weight over her body, he began to fuck into her faster. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rubbed my cock wishing it were you around me,” he said.

She squeezed in response. He responded by pulling out and sliding back in agonizingly slow.

Her patience had left her from the moment he touched her in the bar hallway. She began to move her hips in a figure-eight motion, urging him to leave his mark in every part of her. He took her hint and picked up his tempo, being happily rewarded with her repetitive moaning of his name.

Adam stared at her, his gaze unwavering. He had a unique way of making her feel nothing and everything all at once. It was a feeling she could get used to, even feel possessive over. And with that thought, she cursed herself for confusing this for something more. She zoned back into reality and pushed against his shoulder while using her hips to flip him over. He groaned in delight at the position change and she ground into his hardness. Anxious to rid the moment of any sentiment, she began bouncing up and down along his length. He ran his hand up her thigh and over her hip. He continued to move inward until his thumb found her clit, palm still resting flat against her stomach. God, the size of this man was enough to make her come.

Feeling her pick up speed, he urged her on. “Come for me, Daisy. Let yourself go on this hard cock. You love how hard I am for you, don’t you?” He continued rubbing soft circles into her clit. Matched with his words, it was enough for her to cry out his name.

She unraveled onto his chest just as she felt him grunt and fill her. Waves of satisfaction continued to pass as they laid together. He cradled her against him as they waited for their breaths to slow.

He slowly lifted her off of him and turned her to face him. He kissed her softly and lay his head back against the pillow. His eyes seemed to search hers for answers on how to handle this transition back into reality. Not having a clue, she chose the easy way out and turned her back to him to lay on her side. Adam took it as an invitation for another level of intimacy. Her whole body tensed and released as she felt him lay tiny kisses behind her ear. He worked downwards, finally settling his chin into the crook of her neck. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

She sighed, knowing what she needed to do. “3, 2, 1. Okay. Here goes. I’m about to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“No, you just finished doing the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life like...two minutes ago.”

“Wow. What a terribly awful innuendo that was.”

“But not untrue?” he teased.

“I’m serious. Adam, as much as it pains me to say this. I think you should go. This was truly...unbelievable. Like, really, really, good. But like I said, I don't expect anything else from this. From you. But if you stay the night...I just might get confused.”

“No.”

“No? Not really up for debate. Go.” She used all her strength to push the giant out of her bed.

He stood but didn’t make any movement to get ready. “I won’t.”

She threw on her sternest face and blinked slowly. “I’m saying you have to.”

Undeterred by her insistence, he stroked her cheek with his thumb and settled it against her lips. “Shh, you’re mine right now.”

That was enough to make her give up her fight and pull his face down to hers. They resumed their earlier position as he turned her onto her side. His body spooned hers protectively and he planted a gentle kiss against her shoulder. It seemed to be his new favorite spot. Her stomach dropped and filled with fear and guilt. She closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would come soon - knowing it was too late to avoid the crash and burn.

Chapter 3 - Don’t Feel Like Crying

Daisy’s alarm went off on her phone as she dragged the starched hotel pillow over her head.

“Shut up, you!”

She fumbled to find the source of her disturbance and squeezed until the ringing stopped. It was still dark out and she didn’t know who she had pissed off to be called in at such a god-awful hour.

She was being dramatic.

In actuality, she knew she hadn’t angered anyone. Strange hours were a well-known consequence of her chosen profession. But she also knew her internal body clock wasn't wired for this.

Over the past month, Daisy hadn’t spent more than three nights in a single bed. As she glanced in the mirror, she could see it was beginning to take a toll on her. She adored the world of professional acting - but, the press and promos? Not so much. I’ll be looking 40 before I even turn 30, she thought, reaching for her eye cream.

She moved like a zombie through her hotel room, choosing vegan snacks and a tea tumbler in place of brains. Today was going to be another long stretch, but in a few more days, it would all be over.

Over. What a strange concept that was. She allowed herself to think back to the very first press tour for The Force Awakens. It was all so new and exciting back then. It had been nerve-wracking of course, but there was also something so special about that time. Her heart twinged as she remembered that year with fondness. In spite of the whirlwind of interviews, red carpets, and photoshoots, she had formed new bonds. It was a time of getting to know her castmates, crew members, hair and makeup artists.

And him, her ugly conscience reminded her.

Right. Him.

He had slightly more experience than her when it came to the press, but that didn’t make him hate it any less. Like her, he had never done anything on so large a scale. The pressure to be someone that both kids and adults could relate to was a different kind of terrifying. Naturally, they had latched onto one another. Her delightful inexperience with the industry offset his social unease and aloof tendencies. They would find ways to make each other laugh after answering the same question for the tenth time that day. Late nights were spent walking through foreign cities in disguises. Forced together by a job, they had become close friends.

And then there was the filming of The Last Jedi. Friends soon grew into something more. There was a closeness between them, the kind one would find between childhood mates. A sense of protection and duty to the other. Yet, too fused with desire to call it platonic. There was no proper label for what they were. Not when there was a stifling awareness of their complex situation. After that first night together, they had spent a few more weeks in a bubble of their own. It wasn’t all smiles, but it was all theirs.

Still, she wasn’t wrong when she had told him, “In no version of our story does it end with you and I…”

They had both seen the ending from the start. He had tried to pull away before it even began. She had tried to protect her heart by keeping it fun. In the end, none of that did anything to lessen the pain.

“Daisy,” he whispered over the phone. She could tell he had been drinking. The sun was beginning to wake London which meant it was the middle of the night in New York.

“Joanne’s pregnant,” he forced out.

Any other time, she would have made a smartass comment about his voice cracking. But now, no words rose.

She heard him take a few more breaths as if he was going to say more. When she continued to sit there in silence, he began again.

“I know we were supposed to meet up but –“

It was too much. Daisy hung up the call and threw her phone onto the mattress, watching it bounce onto the floor. Her body shook violently as tears spilled out. A buzz against the hardwood signaled another incoming call. She didn’t need to look to see who it was.

“FUCKING HELL!” she screamed into the empty apartment. Unintelligible cries came out in waves, sounding more hoarse and strained as they went on.

Minutes, then hours passed until she finally went numb.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you alright?” Somehow, Daisy had made it from her hotel room into the elevator, whose doors now opened to the lobby. She wondered how long she had been stuck here in her memories.

“Oh, yes. I’m so sorry to hold you up.”

She left the elevator and threw on a smile. This is your dream, Daisy. Remember? The wound is where the light enters. The wound is where the light enters.

The day had been a blur of photoshoots, interviews, and trials for tomorrow’s premiere look. In theory, she should’ve been very tired by now. Yet, she lay on top of her covers nursing nervous energy. What did she have to be nervous about?

Besides everyone hating the movie that you’re at the center of? she thought.

It seemed her old friend, anxiety, was right on schedule.

She considered heading to the gym. Maybe she could work off the negative energy. But this was Los Angeles, not London. She was sure to be mobbed, disguise or not. Her phone vibrated on the side table and she reluctantly stole a glance.

Joanne will be with me tomorrow at the premiere. Looking forward to seeing you. - A

The nausea and shortness of breath that followed confirmed a fear. She was, in fact, nervous about more than just the reception of the film.

---

“Come, everyone! I need more selfies to remember you all by!”

It was a fact that no one could ever deny Joonas his selfies. There were kind people in the world, good people, even - and then there was Joonas. Daisy paused mid-conversation with John to squeeze in for the photo. Adam turned around from his discussion as well and offered her a small smile. Her stomach felt like it was filling with helium until she shook her head and body into submission. She responded with a small “hello” before turning her gaze to Joonas’ phone.

Joonas studied the photo with pleasure and brought his friends in for a quick hug. He asked them what they had been up to since they last saw one another. Their answers went unheard when his manager came to steal him away. John's agent soon followed and he checked in with Daisy with his eyes. "I'll see you in a bit, Peanut?" She feigned contentment and gave a small nod.

The unease washed over her again when Daisy was finally alone with Adam.

He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, Dais.”

“That’s very kind, thank you. You look quite handsome as well.”

Pleasantries continued and she hardly recognized the words she was hearing. She and Adam despised small talk. This wasn't them. But then again, "them" was a long-forgotten memory.

At the realization, Daisy sighed and dropped her guard. Her eyes darkened. “Why did you text me, Adam?”

“Oh. I wasn't sure if you had received it.”

“Why,” she repeated, losing her patience.

“I don’t know. I thought you should know. That you might...want to know?” He was starting to gesture his hands wildly and she knew she had caught him off guard. “I...after the way we left off at the end of filming...I thought you might want to...prepare yourself? But that was presumptuous of me, I’m sorry. You’re clearly okay. Very okay. ”

When she didn’t respond, Adam scratched the back of his neck. “So uh, I got a chance to see bits of interviews you’ve done. You didn’t have to say all those nice things, you know. Especially after everything that happened.”

“Why not? There’s no point in lying. Also, it’s strange,” she paused. “Cause you see, whenever I’m in an interview and someone asks me something, and I go oh! There was that one time that Adam and I - And at first I would think, God, you can’t share that, Dais! You’ll look like a lovesick puppy. All the headlines will read, Daisy Ridley, a Fool for Her Co-star? But then I decided that I didn't care. That as long as I had all these memories, really fun and dear ones - it meant that it was real.”

��Of course it was real.”

She led him into a smaller hallway. This conversation was never part of the plan, but she knew that any news of it could hurt both her and Adam in a way that would be unsalvageable.

“How can you be so sure? You’re the one who walked away.”

“That’s not fair. You never gave me a chance to figure it out.”

“Bloody hell, Adam. There was nothing to figure out. When you called me to tell me you were going to be a father, you’d already made your choice. You only called because, in some sick, twisted way, you were hoping for my permission. You needed me to tell you it was okay.”

“No, I needed you to know how complicated it was.”

She took a deep breath and turned to face the wall. “The wound is where the light enters. The wound is where the light enters,” she whispered.

"What was that?"

She turned back, ignoring him and taking in his contorted expression. She straightened her spine and began. “I promised myself I was past this. So yes. It WAS complicated. But now - it’s not. There has to be something there for things to be complicated.”

“It’s still complicated for me,” he bit out.

“Please...just stop. Look, you were right. Just like always, you’re right. Between seeing you here and being sent everywhere to perform a dog and pony show, I’m not okay. Not even close. But being out here doing all this right now? The promotion and press - it's somehow the only thing helping me keep it together. As long as I’m busy, I don’t feel like crying."

He continued to stare at her but didn't venture a response. It seemed he no longer wished to argue, just listen.

She went on. "Don’t get me wrong. I understand how stupid I sound, whining about all of it. I understand the immense luck I’ve had that I get to do this for a living. You taught me that. But...I think I just need to be home for a bit. Need to lock myself up for a while. Sure, I’ll keep grinding it out and praying that someone sees me beyond this...circus. Get employed and all. But I just need a break.”

His eyes hadn’t left hers, so she broke the contact and spoke at her hands which she'd been wringing unknowingly.

“So please, let me go out there and do the old song and dance. Hug my friends, say goodbye to the role. Then I’ll go home to London and we'll never have to see each other again.”

“You can’t know that," his voice emerged, shaken by the finality of her statement.

She smiled gently and raised her eyes once more. “But I do. Everyone does. You and I no longer run in the same circles. You are...a force of nature, Adam. Like the ocean. You're reckless. Dangerous. But so damn beautiful to watch. Leaving a mark on everything you touch simply by being yourself. Me though, I'm just a rock that got swept up in your tide. Inevitably and forever changed by you, but unable to leave any impressions in return.”

She felt the heat forming behind her eyes and turned to leave before small droplets betrayed her. He grabbed for her hand but she pulled away in time. "Don't go," he whispered.

She turned with a final glance. "Thank you for everything, Adam. I don't regret a thing. But you don't get to decide things for me anymore."

Chapter 4 - Home to You

The sea air assaulted all her senses and she closed her eyes to let it wash over her. For the first time in months, she felt like she could breathe without struggle. Sure, the air was humid and rain was guaranteed to be waiting in the wings. But, it was freeing to be outside with absolutely no agenda.

She laughed.

That wasn't entirely true. She did have an agenda. But it was one all her own. This visit was all about leaving the bubble that her life has become, even if just for a few moments. It was about moving on. About liking herself again.

She had planned this trip a couple of months ago. She would have forgotten about it had her sisters not reminded her.

“Hush your beak, Dais,” Kika said. “You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

“Am I?"

“Completely. You're not going to die a miserable, lonely, spinster.”

“I didn't say miserable and lonely!” She glared at her flesh and blood.

“Both of you. That's enough,” Poppy chimed in. “But Daisy, I do agree. Just because it sucks right now doesn't mean you're out of luck for the rest of your life. You made the right choice.”

“Breaking off an engagement. I'm the quintessential dumb millennial,” Daisy groaned.

“No, dumb would've been ignoring your true feelings. Your energy deserves to exist unbound. So do you.”

“But I don't feeeeeel unbound. I feel like some sort of gross hairball just stuck there waiting to be coughed out whenever the cat deems ready.”

Kika snorted and Poppy soon followed. Both her sisters unraveled into fits of giggles. After throwing a pillow at Kika's head, Daisy joined in.

The night had gone much like this. Tears, giggles, refill wine glasses. Repeat.

Daisy caught her breath from the laugh attack and sighed. “So what do I do now? Shut everyone out and vanish to a secluded place to find myself? ‘Eat Pray Love’ this out?”

“That's not a terrible idea,” said Poppy.

“I was only kidding. Mine isn't exactly a life you just walk out on without heavy speculation. Not even Joaquin Phoenix quit acting successfully.”

“Always the drama queen, Dais,” Kika muttered with a roll of her eyes. “But maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a vacation. Just a small one. Go. Grab your laptop. Let's find you someplace nice.”

Where to go? Where to go? she thought to herself. Her sisters chimed in with suggestions but she insisted on making the choice herself.

In a fog of restlessness, hurt, and nostalgia, she clicked away to her heart’s content. Thirty minutes later, she shut the lid. “Done,” she smiled, feeling victorious.

After reading the confirmation email the next morning, she considered canceling it. Choosing to travel there was a bad idea. Her finger hovered over the button as she thought about it more. There was a possibility that this could be the closure she needed to begin the next chapter of her life.

“Good morning!” a man called out. Daisy snapped out of her daydream and greeted the man she assumed was her driver.

“We're heading to Dingle, correct?”

An inhale. Then an exhale. It's too late to back out now, she told herself. “Yes. Thank you so much,” she answered with a smile.

---

A week and a half had passed since she had arrived in Ireland. She sat with her morning tea and sipped it, taking in how at peace she felt. She felt like the old Daisy, again. Or maybe a new one. It was hard to tell. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so present in a moment.

Her stay hadn’t been all magical. The prior week was a different picture in all respects. Like torrential rains, Daisy was never at balance. One second, she felt euphoria from being in one of her favorite places. The next, only bittersweet flashbacks of memories to a time spent with someone who wasn't hers.

Phone in hand, she stared at the photo of the cliffside she had snapped on her drive the day before. It was nondescript enough - and she wasn't in it. But he would know where it was.

She only had a few days left before going home and she had been toying with the idea of reaching out to him for closure. During a sob-filled emergency phone session, her therapist had assured her it wasn’t necessary. But Daisy wanted to. Was determined to. Where better than from here, the place they had first fallen into this mess? She wanted to rewrite the narrative and make new memories in this place. She wanted to return home without burden.

Saw this view and couldn't help thinking of you. She deleted the words and tried again. While it was true, she had to establish boundaries. She didn't want him to think she was opening up the door to anything unhealthy. This was about making peace with the past and trying to relearn a friendship with him.

Recognize this? she typed. “That seems harmless enough,” she told herself.

“1, 2, 3, SEND!” Her finger froze. She got up and walked onto the balcony. She hoped some fresh air would give her the nerve. She repeated the countdown again. “You’ve got this, Dais!”

She couldn’t do it. She jumped up and down, shaking her limbs to pump herself up.

“OH SHIT,” she exclaimed as her phone slipped from her fingers. She caught it with a pincer grasp and made a mental note to thank her trainer for her quick reflexes. She kissed her phone in relief.

Then she saw it.

Her clumsiness had done it for her. She had sent the text.

“Well. That’s that, then.” Daisy tucked her phone back into her pocket knowing there was nothing she could do now.

After dinner, she drew herself a bath and poured a glass of wine. Her phone buzzed. She had forgotten to turn off the ringer.

“AGH. Who’s bothering me?” She reached to turn it off but stopped when she saw the notification. Adam had responded. Throughout the course of the day, she had forgotten about her text to him. Or her subconscious was working overtime to protect her if he didn’t text back.

How could I forget? I embarrassed myself soon after with shitty poetry recitation.

Though alone, she blushed. She had taken the photo because the view was breathtaking and so uniquely Dingle. She hadn’t sent it with the intention of reliving that afternoon. But now she couldn’t think of anything but. And the fact that Adam had brought it up sent a pulse straight to her core.

She closed her eyes and slid her hand downward. What started out that day years ago as an innocent request evolved at high speed.

They sat in the rental car staring out at Dunquin Harbor. He had just returned from Cannes to promote Paterson.

“What was filming that like? Quite different than this, I gather?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Different type of film. Very little dialogue -”

“Wait, so actually very similar!”

Adam chuckled. “Paterson was very much a listener and a man of few words. Verbally, at least. His poetry is where the audience learns who he is.”

“Right! Tell me more about poetry!”

He rolled his lips inward. “Uh, what about it? I didn’t really know much going in, but meeting Ron Padgett, the poet who wrote the original poetry in the film was great. And Jim Jarmusch actually studied it in college. So yeah, definitely new for me.”

“So you spent some time studying some of this Ron guy’s work before you went into filming?”

“Among others. But, yes. It was helpful.”

“Can I hear some of it?”

“Yeah...let’s not,” he shied away.

She pulled out her phone and typed in “Ron Padgett poems” as he tried to change the subject. He called attention back to the landscape in front of them. She clicked through on a link and extended her phone to him.

“Here. Read it to me.”

He pulled a face.

“Please? It’s like a table read. But just for me.” She smiled and his mouth mirrored hers.

He squeezed her forearm affectionately before agreeing. “Only a little.”

“I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” she smirked, feeling quite pleased with herself.

“How to Be Perfect. By Ron Padgett."

“Get some sleep.” His thumb began stroking her forearm.

“Don't give advice.” He grazed his fingertips up her arm to draw circles around her shoulder.

“Take care of your teeth." A small kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“And gums.” Another to the opposite corner.

“Don't be afraid of anything,” his mouth met her temple.

“Beyond your control.”

“Don't be afraid.” A gentle stroke of her hair.

“For instance,”

“That the building,” he traced the line of her clavicle.

“Will collapse.” His fingers teased the sensitive skin of her neck.

“As you sleep.” A kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Or that someone - ” A quick bite of her lobe.

“You love,” he kissed her mouth tenderly.

“Will suddenly drop dead.” A small smile pulled at his mouth.

He took his hand and ran it down her body, stopping where her legs met.

“Eat an orange every morning.” He lifted her dress.

“Be friendly.” He teased her now with his index and middle finger in a V, rubbing soft strokes against the outer edge of her desire.

“It will help make you happy.” He brushed his hand across her clit and her breath caught in her throat.

“Raise your pulse rate.” Another brush.

“To 120 beats per minute.” Then pressure.

“For 20 straight minutes.” He rubbed up and down slowly.

“Four or five times a week - ” She raised her hips to grind against him faster. He laughed and removed his hand.

“Doing anything - ” She whined.

“You enjoy.” He returned his hand.

“Hope,” a finger pushed into her.

“for everything.” A deeper exploration of her.

“Expect nothing.” He withdrew himself.

He dropped the phone and took her face in his hands. He took her mouth like a man drinking his last sip of water before heading out into the scorching desert. His hand slid back down her torso, reading her need for release.

She put her phone down and let her own fingers roam downwards. She sighed as she softly teased herself, trying to mimic the light touches he had used. Ok, so closure may be harder than anticipated , she thought. Resigning to try again tomorrow, she put the phone down to focus on her pleasure. A reply could wait until then.

---

When she gathered the courage to respond to him the next day, she was filled with relief. Their exchange was easy and amicable. The familiarity comforted her like a childhood blanket.

She continued to update him about her trip. He laughed at the right moments and chided her the way any good friend would.

I don’t want to leave 😢, she typed to him.

Where are you headed next?

Home. I fly into Heathrow tomorrow. I’m not ready to be a proper adult again.

Ehh, I don’t think there’s such a thing. We’re all just faking it.

Thanks, friend. Any suggestions for my last night here in good ol Dingle?

A huge bacon cheeseburger.

You suck.

She laughed at his teasing. This was good. A healthy good. She wasn't even upset that she had to pack the mess that had accumulated over her stay.

---

Daisy walked off the plane and blinked in succession. There was Adam, attempting to look inconspicuous in a hoodie and sneakers.

“Oh. Hey, Adam. Are you...stalking me?”

“Kind of. I asked Kika for your flight information.”

Her phone started ringing. “Oh. This is awkward, but I've got a driver waiting to pick me up. It’s really nice to see you? But I have to go.”

He laughed nervously. “I...was kind of hoping you would let me go with you. I've got no other way of getting back.”

“Uh. Sure. Why not?”

---

An hour later, she thanked the driver and headed up to her apartment. Adam trailed behind with her bags. She unlocked the door to her apartment and gestured for him to enter.

“So, what brings you to London?” she began.

“I’m actually in France for the next month filming for a Ridley Scott movie.”

"Heh." An awkward laugh. “I knew that. I don’t know why I asked. I just didn’t wanna sound like a stalker. Then again, you showed up waiting outside my plane so I guess we’re both creepers now.”

He smiled. She melted.

“So...I’m not gonna lie...when I got your text - ”

“You know what?” she interrupted. “Hold that thought. This is kind of rude of me to cut you off. You’re a guest in my home and all. But I really need to do something first. And it’s going to be very awkward but just bear with me through it. Okay? Please?”

“I’m the one who intruded on your day so please, go ahead.”

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. Be strong, Dais, she reminded herself.

“When I was in Ireland, I wrote you a letter.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going to be a lot, but I don’t know that I’ll have the balls to read this again. And right now, for some godforsaken reason, I feel like I can do it.”

“You don’t have to if you don't want to.”

“No, I’m going to.”

“Okay. Should I...turn around?” he suggested.

“No no. Just go ahead and sit down.”

Adam looked down, shifting his gaze from one edge of the chair to the other. He was already seated but was too polite to note that. “I will sit.”

Daisy walked over to her handbag and pulled out a paper folded into quarters. She hoped he didn’t notice how worn it looked. Proof that she had fumbled with it more times than necessary. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. She offered him a silent thanks for that.

“Actually, I think I’ll turn around,” she muttered.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Adam said.

Her pulse was racing. “Here goes."

"Dear Adam,

I’d be lying if I said I’m not heartbroken right now. I know the last time we spoke, I told you I was past it, but we both know that was just me trying to put some distance between us. I’m gutted even thinking about the way you asked me to stay. It makes me want to cry all over again (which I’ve been doing a lot of over here).

It’s been REALLY hard to make all my feelings go away, which is the reason I’m writing you this letter. I’m desperate to do something, anything, to get proper closure and move on.

Saying goodbye to you feels like saying goodbye to a part of myself. That’s silly, though. What’s that saying? You can’t lose something that was never yours? Trying to let you go feels like trying to quit an addiction. Which I guess makes Dingle my rehab center (a really lovely one though).

Looking back at everything with 2020 vision (haha, get it? 2020?) - I was fucked from the start. Meeting you was completely life-altering in a way baby Dais could have never expected. You were so REAL in a blur of superficiality. Latching onto you felt like a way of holding onto reality. A tether to the tangible when everything and everyone else wanted to turn me into someone I wasn't ready to be.

And I think you felt that too, in a way. Which is how we fell so easily into friendship. I truly do think that what we had started off innocently, and I’m grateful you were there for it all.

But I’m also SO angry with you. I fell in love with you. And you let me. And for that - I want to scream at everyone and everything. IT'S SHIT. I know it’s not fair to place all the blame on you. But I was in my early 20s and the less experienced of us. I misplaced our mutual understanding onto something more. But as someone with a wife, you should’ve fought harder to push me away. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you insult me until I hated you? Why did you say nice things to me in private and let me play make-believe?

My feelings for you were so obvious that anyone could have seen them from a mile away. I suspect most did. I was so hopeful that if I was patient and attentive, you might drop everything for me with a grand gesture. But eventually, I learned that that’s not who you are. I know you’ve struggled with many relationships in the past, both romantic and otherwise. Frankly, I think part of you finds romantic feelings uncomfortable. I don’t say it to be cruel, but I simply care for you and think maybe someone needs to say it. I don’t like that I tried to change you - it wasn’t my place. It isn’t anyone’s.

But onto the positive. Cause that’s what all this is supposed to be about. Typical Dais, unable to stay on task.

Loving you, as painful as it was, also taught me so much about myself. Professionally, being around you made me a better performer. I was so set on being a worthy scene partner. Your instincts always pushed me to find authenticity in everything. Your humbled way of approaching the business is still unlike anyone else’s I've met. I’ll always try to maintain these things as I go forward.

As a...romantic partner? You made me feel seen. As I’ve tried to move on with others, I always felt I’ve had to hide parts of me. Yes, our situation...fuck, let’s call it what it was. Our affair - was based on hiding. But only because of its nature. Behind closed doors, you accepted me in my entirety. The goofiness, the grotesque parts, the darker ideations. I never had to hide these parts with you. So in a way, loving you, then losing you, taught me that it shouldn’t have to feel controlled with the right person. I shouldn’t have to be a budget version of myself to be loved.

If these are truly the last words I say to you (even if not in actuality. Cause I’m a melt and may not even send this). Just a few thoughts. I am so proud of you. The awards and Ben Solo campaign are proof that the world finally sees what I’ve always known. You are a once in a lifetime type of human. I know you hate it - the recognition, but you deserve it. And so much more. I truly hope you’re happy. I know I’m trying to be.

All my love, Daisy”

When she mustered up the strength to turn around, she didn’t know if she was seeing straight. Through her watery eyes, it looked like Adam was crying, too.

“Daisy,” was all he said. He got up and walked toward her, taking her into his arms. Silent tears fell between them, darkening their clothing.

“I can’t lie. When you first texted me, I was shocked. I didn’t think I’d see your name in my phone for...Well, I didn’t know that I’d see it again.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Can I tell you something? It's actually why I came to see you.” He asked.

“Sure.” Her head was still pressed against his chest.

“I don’t expect you to say anything in response, but...Joanne and I separated. My PR will be announcing it in the next couple of months now that award season is over.”

“Oh,” was all that she could say.

“Yeah.”

“I called off the engagement. To Tom. He understood that my heart was never fully in it.”

“He did?”

“Alright, maybe not right away. But yes. He's all moved out. I think we might be able to be friends again, eventually.”

Adam looked around at the apartment for the first time. “I honestly didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, just little old me again.”

The energy in the apartment shifted and Adam tilted her chin up. He kissed her gently at first as if to test the waters. When she opened her mouth to take more of him in, his attack became more fierce. She matched his kisses, though the tears hadn’t stopped. It was a deadly cocktail of heartache, longing, and love.

She couldn’t get enough of him. The ache for him, both his heart and his growing hardness returned. It was like riding a bike. The solace of revealing every last feeling to him increased her desire. She no longer feared the ache of having him. Only the absence of his weight on her.

He carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on her stomach.

She felt him shimmy her pants down her ass. He laid soft kisses on each cheek before sliding his tongue up between them. Her whole body trembled as he explored every forbidden part of her.

“OH MY GOD,” she cried out.

Her encouragement was all he needed. He adjusted her knees so he could access her more easily. A small rub of her clit. A lapping of her juices. Then back to licking up into her from front to back. She had never had anyone taste her puckering hole before. She thought she might come right there. She reached back to pull at his hair and covered him with her release.

He flipped her onto her back and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips. She had claimed him. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever it was, she needed more of this feeling.

She reached out and grabbed his erection, guiding it into herself. It had been so long since she had felt him. She forgot how deep he could feel. She squeezed him in. Further. Then further. His hair fell on his face and she reached up to push it back.

She lifted herself onto her elbows and kissed him up and down his neck. This made him go crazy and he took her with even more force. She felt split in two. He grabbed her breasts as he held his rapid pace. He returned the favor and nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered into her ear.

“ADAM. I’M COMING,” she announced.

She wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed him in one last time. “DAISY. FUUUCK.” He collapsed onto her, their sweat and tears now indistinguishable.

A moment later, she came back to her senses. “Goddamnit,” Daisy said, staring at the ceiling. “That was not supposed to happen.”

Adam rolled over. “Why does it matter? We’re both single now. We can be together.”

“We can’t,” she insisted. “We can't just start over when we, THIS, started from a place of lies and hiding.”

“Who the hell cares, Dais? Whose business is it but ours?”

“Even you know it's not that easy.”

He growled. “I know that none of that changes how I feel about you. People-pleasing is a game for those that lack understanding of their core selves.”

“Ugh. You sound so pretentious!!”

“Well, I'm sorry if I'm a little confused. We're both single and now we can't be together?? Was I only appealing to you when I was married? Help me understand this shit because I sure as hell can't.”

She got off the bed and began throwing his clothes at him. “The fact you would even suggest that is infuriating. You need to go. I've said my piece. That was all this was about. There's no reset button to any of this.”

Fully dressed, he stopped at her bedroom door. He looked ready to punch the wall. At the last moment, he opened his fist. It was almost as if he realized he had done enough damage for the day. Instead, his heavy hand slammed against the door frame.

He continued on and reached for the front doorknob. He looked back at her and she shuddered. She had seen him angry and frustrated, but had never been the one in his sights.

With a slam of the door, he left.

She began crying. So much for closure, she thought. Daisy searched for her phone and debated calling her mum or sisters. But then, a sudden cold sweat came on. She would have to admit what had happened. She dropped the phone. She wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

Sometime later, a knock at her door startled her from her stupor. She panicked. Security knew better than to let anyone up without her prior approval.

She heard a throat clear and then a thud. Much like a stray limb hitting the hard surface. “OW.”

The voice was unmistakable. She opened the door.

She looked at him and stared blankly. Her eyes seemed to ask, What are you doing here?

He extended a dark chocolate bar toward her.

“Hi. I'm Adam.”

“What?” She stared at him like tiny giraffes were dancing on his shoulders.

He shushed her and started again. “Hi, I'm Adam. It's great to meet you. At the risk of looking like an ass...can I take you out? I know we just met, but I have a good feeling about this.”

Finally understanding him, she smiled.

#daiver #adam x daisy #adam driver x daisy ridley #realpersonfic #real person fic #rpf #im literally trying to chase you away if this isn't your ish #daiver rpf #mine #adamsy #adaisy #fanfic

26 notes · View notes

livvywrites · 5 years ago

Text

WIP Quotes Tag Game

tagged by @letswritestories101! thank you very much, this looks really fun :D

rules: pick five quotes that your characters have said about your protagonist, then five quotes your protagonist has said, and then tag five people!

i’m tagging: @stardustscribes; @klywrites; @ardawyn; @hyba; & @tieflingish

All quotes are under a cut, since this got kind of long~

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just go?” Sudi said. “Come back later, maybe? You know how grumpy she is when she first gets back, Ellis.”

“Don’t start.” Kato groaned. “Just because you worship the ground she walks on—”

There was a snort, so loud and scathing it could only have come from Oz or Ellis.

“I worship the ground she walks on? Are you serious right now, Kato? I’m not the one in—”

Overheard while Alinora was eavesdropping, hoping this group would let slip why they’d decided to come visit so soon after she got back from a mission.

“Damn straight.” A popping noise. Jezebel grimaced. Ellis cracking his knuckles, no doubt. “Now, settle yerselves down and wait for the lassie to get changed an’ cleaned an’ whatever else she needs t’ do. If yer feelin’ real charitable, mebbe see about makin’ her a drink for when she gets out.”

“She doesn’t drink,” Kato pointed out, and Jezebel rolled her eyes.

“Hells. Why’d I bring any of you idjits, eh? Not one of ye has any gods-damned sense!” Quiet for a second, and then tersely, he said, “I meant some tea or somethin’.”

More eavesdropping.

“We all know who the most likely suspect is,” Polonius said. “After all, those are the exact symptoms of the powder we gave her—”

“And you know her relationship with the grandmaster has been suspicious from the beginning,” Driza added. “He put entirely too much trust in her—”

Accidental eavesdropping, this time. Overheard when she went to investigate the grandmaster’s death.

“For as long as memory reaches, it has been us—the Divines—against Lady Fate. The Spider, we call her. Our vendetta has spilled into Eldora before, both in ways that have marked history and in ways that have gone unnoticed. However, our battle has gotten more difficult, within the last century or so. Fate has turned one of our own against us—infected her, somehow. And in doing so, she turned our attention away from Eldora, allowing her to manipulate Kai’os; to use him and his people for her own twisted purposes.

“When we realized what she was doing… we tried to move against her. But how do you move against something, someone, that can see everything you do before you do it? That can snuff the life of your allies with a snip of her scissors?

“It was a question without an answer…

“Until one day, about twenty eight years ago.”

Jezebel pursed her lips.

“A soul appeared. A new soul, primed for delivery. No Reaper had been scheduled to bear it to Eldora; there was no mark in our books, no indication that it was ever supposed to exist, truly. But there it was, plain as day. There was a bit of panic. My more bureaucratic siblings combed the archives for a reference, searching for some reason that this soul would be there, without a Reaper to deliver it.

“They found nothing.

“And so it was that Death sent me to the Guild of Secrets. The woman I spoke to was unsurprised by the news that I brought, though she did mention that it was ‘earlier than she had expected.’ Still, though. She told me what the soul was, though she would not explain how it came to be, nor why we had not been informed of its coming.

“The soul… was never meant to exist.”

Counting this as two for the last one, since it’s so long! But this is when she’s told a story about her origins :P It’s the last quote I have “about” Alinora in the rewrite!

Now for Alinora’s quotes!

Kato shook his head. “They’re both more politician than assassin now. If the people demand it, they’ll get rid of you one way or another—whether by exile or execution.”

Jezebel pursed her lips. “Well, there’s not much I can do from in here, Kato. If you’re so concerned, why don’t you stop preaching to me and start doing something about it? It’s not like Driza is the only one capable of spreading propaganda.”

Kato snapped his fingers. “That’s true! We can make people see the truth. Sudi’s got his bloodline to fall back on, and Flynn’s pretty charismatic. The two of them can make people see your innocence. I bet we can convince Ellis and Rolfe to help, too. Oz, Elan, and I can investigate your case. I don’t trust Driza not to try and meddle.”

Jezebel found herself smiling again. “Sounds like you have a plan.”

Trying to puzzle out how to get herself out of house arrest. Or, rather, getting Kato and the others out of her hair so that she can get out of house arrest.

“I’m a little more concerned about what a reaper is doing in my bedroom than I am about what your name is,” she snapped, gesturing to the reaper with her dagger.

Threatening a celestial being, because of course she is XD

“You’ve got to be joking,” she said faintly. “No—I have to be hallucinating.” She leaned against her dresser, dagger still clutched in her right hand. With her left, she rubbed at her temples. “I can’t fight Kai’os. I’m not— He’s a Slaeyr, and I’m… not. I don’t have magic, I can barely nullify a basic fireball without feeling like I’m going to pass out—and you want me to—!” She shook her head. “Nope. Not doing it—I’m not even going to entertain you. Just— no. Go away, goodbye, find someone else.”

Denying her call to adventure. That’s also the last decent quote I have for Alinora out of the revisions. So, back to the first draft for these last two :D

Alinora held her gaze. She drew up her chin. Stepped away from Rivana, from Oreyn. She looked away from Elaena, and addressed the room at large. Despite her red-rimmed eyes, her tone was low and strong. “I will take Weaver’s Bane. I will engage Kai’os directly. I will be the one to kill him. I owe him that.”

Alinora accepting her destiny, shortly before things go to hell again.

The purpose of this letter is not to make meaningless, though heartfelt, apologies. It’s purpose is three part. The first, gratitude. The second… I must ask you to do some things for me. I regret having to ask, but someone must do it. Perhaps you would have done it anyway. The last… to answer some questions. Not nearly enough but some. The ones I can predict.

Thank you for putting your life on the line for my people. Thank you for bringing them supplies, so that they could continue to endure against Kai’os. Thank you for aiding them in battle. Thank you for providing them with your knowledge, your talents, your crew. And thank you for taking this journey with me. For doing your best to teach me, for taking us into dangerous, unknown places. I know it wasn’t quite me you did it for, but that doesn’t make me any less grateful for it. You did a wonderful thing, and I will never forget it. Nor should you.

Though you have already done so much for me, there is something that I would ask. My people will need help in the coming days. So will the slaeyr. You have already proven yourself someone to be trusted. Help to teach those who never learned to sail. Help them gather supplies. I won’t ask you to broker trade agreements or re-establish our diplomacy—that, I feel, is more a job for Rivana and Oreyn—but do what you can. Please.

Part of a letter to Talitha, in the final chapter of the epilogue.

#tmq #my writing #tag games #tmq excerpt #tmq excerpts

7 notes · View notes

wheremytwinwatches · 5 years ago

Text

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 38

Last time: Ed was super composed when talking to his crush, Granny Armstrong was here and gone before I knew it, and Selim stayed out past his bedtime. Onwards!

Riza gets back to her apartment, so shaken up over the Pride reveal that she starts at seeing eyes in the shadows, when it’s just her dog (does it have a name?). Yeesh, she has had a day, hasn’t she? The phone ringing suddenly doesn’t help her nerves, nor does Roy being cheesy and trying to pass off his mountain of flowers to her. Ocne he hears her little huff of stress he does a complete 180 and asks what’s wrong, but since we can’t know if Pride is listening she claims that she’s fine. Roy’s left standing in the phonebooth, glaring down at the silent headset in his hand. Huh, didn’t realize that Sideburns was still having to tag along with Kimblee, thought he’d stay at Briggs. Anyways, Kimblee and the Blondes have wound up at an abandoned mining town. Time to make like a cliched horror movie and split up! Two of Kimblee’s mooks are assigned to follow the Elrics. Episode 38 - “Conflict at Baschool” Now how to ditch the Mooks and the dozen other soldiers with them?

Eh. If it works, it works. They run off from the common soldiers but the Mooks are hot on their heels. Wait never mind they’re chasing them into the building too, they turn the wait what? Where did they… oh yeah, Ed’s an Earthbender. Ha! Nice job pulling up a wall that muffles Al’s heavy footsteps! Uuuunfortunately, while they’re on their own to search Baschool now, in the words of Ed “this place is too damn big”. How on earth are they supposed to find Scar and May in all of this? [Ed]: “If would make things a hell of a lot easier if Scar and that girl just came to us…” [May]: “Alphonse!” Well that was easy. Aw, she still has her huge crush on Al, he’s not helping with his talk about how they were trying to find her and he really needed to see her. Yup, she (and Shao May) are so deep in Crush Mode she can’t even hear him ask for Alkahestry lessons. Ed snaps her out of it by demanding lessons, she tries to let him down gently- wait, “let me out"? Uh oh. [Angry!May]: “Excuse me?! Who is this woman, Al? How could you do this to me?” Aw, sorry May. Don’t worry, you’ll find a guy some day. Hey, Marcoh! Hey… Yoki? Wait, has Ed actually ever met Yoki before now? Yoki sure seems to think they did… Ok, apparently this was a manga story, we’re getting a silent movie but the dialouge is in Japanese so I’ve got no idea what anyone’s saying. Apparently Yoki used to be mayor of a mining town, then Ed came in with a bunch of gold bars and… bought the title to the town? Now hold up, am I understanding that Ed Transmuted a bunch of coal to gold in order to trick Yoki into giving up the title, and then passing it on to the miners who then kicked Yoki out of town? How? Is there such a thing as temporary Transmutation? I thought the effects were always permanent? So after he got kicked out, Yoki went on to try and restore his fortunes through various trades (he failed in each one), “investing his savings” (the casino took the shirt off his back), and straight up trying to steal (from two GIANT women who could honestly give The Mighty Armstrong a run for his money in the muscles department, yikes), which led to him running into a young girl at a piano who… wait… OH MY LETO DID YOU REALLY TRY TO STEAL FROM THE ARMSTRONG MANOR?! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!

After he somehow survived an Armstrong-propelled piano to the face, he ended up in the Ishvalan compound, where he would do the second-stupidest thing in his life trying to take Scar for a bounty, and he’s finally ended up here. So we’ve got a room where Yoki is ranting about his “epic vengeance”, Winry and Al are trying to calm down a heartbroken May, Ed’s still pushing for Alkahestry lessons, and Marcoh is probably wondering if he wasn’t better off with the Goths. So where’s Scar? Kimblee’s getting the news that Winry’s escaped her own minders, Sideburns volunteers to go look for her and takes command of two troops, brushing off Kimblee’s words. The Crimson Alchemist is left standing there, scowling after a proper leader. Eh, you got some good Manipulator points from last episode, but you’ve still got to make up for your pitiful train battle. Scar’s going through some cans and bottles for food when two of Kimblee’s Mooks show up and demand his surrender. What, you punks think you can take on The Killer of Alchemists? Oh! Apparently they’re chimeras, part boar and part toad respectively. Time to kick some monster butt, Scar! Mid-ep pictures of Yoki and the Chimeras (Zampano and Jerso). Yeah, I’m just gonna call you Boar and Toad. The Blondes and the Brunettes are sitting in a circle now, Ed explaining that he found out what Philosopher’s Stones are made of, and their new angle of researching Alkahestry. And what do you know, Marcoh’s got a book by someone who worked to combine the Transmutation disciplines. Ed’s not too happy to hear that they need Scar to break the code (what, you guys didn’t work on that between the cabin and this mining town?). Ah well, where is the Ishvalan, anyway? *boom* There he is! Ed and Al order the others to stay put and head his way. Toad is surprisingly fast for his bulk, dodging Scar’s HoDs and kicks while Boar launches spikes from his back. Also, Toad can spit goop. One drawback to Scar’s style, it’s entirely melee. The chimeras plan to just stick to ranged attacks to wear him down. Scar tries to run off to the side, but a spike cuts his arm and goop glues his hand to the ground. Oh no, if only there was someone on the way who could save him…

Da dada dah! Ed and Al are here to save the day! Al picks up on them being Kimblee’s goons from Central. Now, how to- “AAAAH! TALKING MONSTERS!” Hahahaha! Oh, that is priceless! Pretend to freak out over the inhuman beasts in the room that are “pretending to be your friends”, so you’ve got an excuse if they report back to Central. Toad tries to slime them but notes that Ed is faster than Scar… and grinning like a loon? Oh yeah, this is his first time fighting with his new automail, it’s lighter than the old set so he moves faster! Hits lighter though, Toad’s back up and spitting actual spit. Thanks for telling us what it is, now Ed can break it down to water and freeze your back! And throw his brother into the Toad? Oh, ouch! Metal Armor + Frozen Flesh = Bad Times. Whoop, Boar’s back up, yelling that he and Ed are on the same side. Oh yeah? Prove it! If you’re human then transform back and ahahaha! [Ed]: “Thanks for the opportunity, sucker!” Alright, one Chimera down, knock out the Toad and LETO! What the hell Al, did you just snap his neck?! Jeebus! Scar’s freed himself from the goop, good. Now we can all head back to the others and what. Ed, no. You were literally just told that you need him to decipher the journal and you’re both working against Central now, just tell him what you’ve learned and WHY. NO. YOU DO NOT NEED TO FIGHT. STOP IT. You want him to pay for what he’s done? Then get his help deciphering the journal, fix your bodies, then you can have a great big revenge brawl. Ok fine, whatever. Ed and Al charge him, you might wanna look out for the HoD or protect your arm… oh yeah, the new arm is an alloy, not steel. Just like when Ed tried disarming Buccy, Scar’s failure just means Ed’s close enough to kick him. But like his file says, when Scar’s in trouble he tends to wreck the ground, he bursts through the rubble to strike Ed- [Winry]: “Don’t hurt them!” Winry?! Ok while I appreciate the character development and the chance to confront your parents’ killer, did you leave the Brunettes? Scar’s distracted by her arrival, giving Ed and Al the chance to knock him down and secure his arm. Before she can talk to Scar though, Sideburns shows up. Hopefully Kimblee’s not too close behind. Sideburns orders “the ungodly experiments by our superiors” tied to a column (so they’re still alive?), approaches Scar wait what no don’t shoot him! We need him to break the code! Ed, Al, stop him! Winry? Hoo boy. Winry’s confronting Scar. [Winry]: “Why? Why did you kill my mother and father?” [Scar]: “...there’s nothing I can say that won’t sound like an excuse. And nothing can change the fact that I am responsible for their deaths. Wait, boom?! What? No! Ok ok, calm down, maybe this is another Ross Deception. Trick Kimblee into thinking that Scar is dead? Sparks and a flame show Buccy underground, still with the Tunnel Rescue Team and saying… uh oh. They’re over the 24 hours, and Armstrong the Great said they’d cover the entrance with concrete after that. Come on, don’t leave these guys stuck! They aren’t Alchemists, they’ll have to go back through the Pride-infested tunnel and find another way out! Well, Buccy tries knocking on the door anyways. Silence. Crap. Alright, back down- hey, it opened! It’s Tank Grandpa! Did you really defy Armstrong The Great’s orders? Nice knowing you, buddy. What do you mean, it hasn’t been 24 hours? I doubt that Buccy went on that mission with an improperly timed watch… unless he was given one, to ensure he got back on time? [Tank Grandpa]: *points to shattered pocketwatch* “It’s a nice watch, isn’t it? General Armstrong gave it to me whenever you guys left.” HA! Best General in the show by far. Sorry Grumman, you’ll have to settle for second. Armstrong the Great is hanging out on top of the fort when Buccy gives his report on two survivors. Apparently she’s outside to look at the mountains, admiring the simplicity of their black and white in the winter. Buccy must be feeling really damn confident right now because he argues that it’s not true, if she just looks up she can see the blue sky. [Buccy]: “There’s nothing that’s entirely black and white.” *MASSIVE SHIT-EATING GRIN* “And thanks for showing your soldiers a little mercy! It means a lot, sir.” [Armstrong the Great]: *smiles* “That’s nice, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

New Ship confirmed! Incoming convoy! Are Kimblee and the others coming back? Did they forget to pack lunch? Oh crap. Central’s already sent some forces to find out what happened to Raven. Explosions! Back in Baschool, Kimblee’s finally shown up to the building where everyone was fighting, sees Ed rush out through the smoke. [Ed]: “You bastard! This is all your fault Kimblee, you were supposed to be watching Winry!” Wait what? NO. Argh that’s Winry being carried by Scar no no how did he escape did May break him out why can none of these idiots just talk to each other?! Argh! Wait, hold on. There’s a bandage on his cut arm… Ha! Elaborate Ross Deception, go!

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 38

2 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 6 years ago

Text

FIC: Any Other Tuesday (ch4, baon)

Summary: It started the same as any other Tuesday

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury, Homophobia, Off-Screen Minor Character Death

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Notes: Well, here we are, the concluding chapter, where we get some answers, a lot more questions, tie up some loose ends, and make some new ones. This chapter has a reference to past homophobia, so please be warned. There is also off-screen character death but definitely not of a major player, not even of a minor one.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Waking up seemed more difficult than usual, but Jeff tried anyway, prying open his sticky eyes to see an unfamiliar room. It took him a moment to collect his hazy thoughts enough to realize he was in a hospital bed, rails up on either side of him and an IV taped to one arm.

A throb of pain started up warningly in his side when he tried to sit up and Jeff sagged back against the pillows, swallowing hard. Oh, right. Those guys, the blood—

There was no sign of any blood now. His hands were scrubbed pink and clean and his clothes were replaced with a hospital gown. A faint snore caught his attention and that was when he finally noticed the chair pulled up next to the bed. No rickety plastic one but a regular armchair, and Stretch was curled up in it, asleep, a tangle of a blanket partially covering him and legs dangling over the arm. His bony feet were hanging over the untidy pile of his shoes, a different colored sock on each one.

That must’ve made for a rough night, trying to sleep in that little chair. Stretch was a good foot and a half taller than him, Edge only slightly less so. Antwan didn’t tower over him quite as much, but Jeff was definitely the shortest in their group.

Their group.

A quick glance around the room told him that it was only the two of them and a pang of concern overshadowed any discomfort from his gut. Jeff groaned as he struggled to sit up and Stretch’s eye sockets opened instantly.

“hey, kid,” he said, groggily. Stretch stood up, pushing his hands at the small of his back as he straightened his spine with a groan. “the chairs here could definitely use a built-in futon or something.”

“I bet,” Jeff said. His voice sounded raspy, his throat painfully dry. “I think I’m supposed to tell you that you look like shit, but honestly, you kinda always look like that.”

“you can’t be too bad if you’ve got jokes,” Stretch said dryly, then more seriously. “how are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.” There was a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw sitting on a swinging tray attached to the bed, and Jeff reached for it, almost fumbling the cup. Stretch caught it before it could spill all over the sheets and held it while he drank gratefully from the straw. The water was cool and refreshing, and Jeff didn’t think it had ever tasted so good.

“Thanks,” Jeff said, after he’d had his fill, sinking back into the pillows.

"no problem. don't feel too bad, klutz, you're still on the good drugs.” Stretch set the cup back down and stuck his hands in his pockets. “welp, from your expression, you’ve got a shitton questions, so let me see if i can sum up before you fall back asleep. you're in the monster side of the hospital. it's technically a part of the embassy, so even though it’s supposed to be family only, they let me in, and it keeps the police out.”

“Where are Edge and Antwan?” That was his most pressing question, because they had to be together. If they were hurt, he was sure Stretch would have told him that first, but he…he needed to know.

Stretch poked absently at a tray sitting on the table next to the water. It held what looked like breakfast; a box of cereal, some fruit, a carton of orange juice. “still talking to the police, down at the embassy. they’ll be by later.”

He tried to offer Jeff an orange and he shook his head, refusing to be distracted. “Are they in trouble?”

“nah,” Stretch’s smile was careless, almost deliberately so, “edge might’ve been a smidge overzealous putting those shits down,” He held up a hand, thumb and forefinger a bare inch apart, “lil’ bit. but it’s hard to argue it wasn’t deserved when you were laying there doing your best impression of a pincushion. things got a little hairy, but it’s all good now.”

Somehow, Jeff didn’t think that was the entire story. Once, in a moment of rare confidence, Edge mentioned that Stretch, and his own brother, either lied terribly or very, very well. It made it impossible to know for sure which was which, and a bad lie could be a disguise for a better one, partial lies strung together into a necklace of half-truths.

Whatever the actual truth was, he’d have to wait and try to get it out of Edge. He was straightforward, at least. Edge would either tell you or refuse, not bothering with any nuances in between.

The ache in his belly was rising like a dull throb. Jeff set a hand gingerly over it, feeling the heavy padding of bandages, and remembered warmth, eerie green light. “You healed me.”

“yeah.” There was no attempt to dismiss that, at least, nothing but an honest answer.

“I didn’t know Monsters could heal Humans like that.”

“no humans do,” Stretch fiddled with the blanket, picking little lint balls from it and flicking them away. “we didn’t want them to know. asgore is lots of things, but he’s not stupid, and we were afraid of what might happen if the humans in charge got wind of what we can do. hence, the healing shit sans and i were working on. yeah, it takes magic to make it, but a manufactured product puts monsters out of the direct equation. or it would’ve, if it worked.” He coughed a little, his eye lights skittering around the room. “anyway, that’s one of the reasons i couldn’t heal you all the way. couldn’t really explain away that much blood and no one hurt. not like they were going to buy that dracula fumbled a snack or something. i took care of the worst of it, i think. i don’t have a liver or spleen but i’m pretty sure you like having ‘em around.”

Jesus. It left him cold, thinking of what Stretch had risked, healing him. If anyone saw or guessed— “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

Stretch finally looked at him, surprised, like it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask a promise of it. “of course you won’t. so, they’re gonna keep you a few days, the doc said, make sure everything is on the up and up before they cut you loose.”

“Sounds fun.”

“eh, i’ll keep you company. gotta say, it’s kinda nice to be on this side of the hospital bed. trust me, i know what it’s like. we’ll get you netflix and everything in here.” Stretch hesitated, then added, slowly, “edge thought we should wait to let you decide whether or not to call your parents, but he didn't say why.”

He didn't ask, but his expression was gentle, inviting confidence. He’d never judge Jeff if he didn’t tell him, but somehow, he thought he could this time, even if it hurt to say. Today seemed like a day for confessions, may as well lance the wound.

"My parents kicked me out when I was fifteen," Jeff said, tiredly. "When I told them I was gay. I ended up stayed with one of my teachers until I graduated if you can believe it. I don't have any other family, so...anyway, she helped. She was so great and—" His voice broke, old pain rising up, joining the ache in his belly, but this one was a wound that had never really healed.

His parents he was mostly over; sometimes his mom called to check in these days, but whatever maternal instinct that wouldn’t allow her to cut him loose wasn’t enough for her to welcome him back, either. Their stilted phone calls were more relief when they were over than anything else. But Mrs. Stinson. Julia, she’d told him to call her with a laugh, she wasn’t a teacher in her own house. He could still remember her hugs and the light, floral scent of her perfume, comforting him in those dark first days when he couldn’t believe his parents had…he’d never dreamed that—

A hand settled over his, bony, inhuman, Monster, and Jeff gripped it desperately.

“what happened to her?” Stretch asked quietly.

“Cancer happened. My junior year at college. She didn’t tell me for a long time, didn’t want me to worry.” A fine sentiment, but it’d given him no time to prepare himself when she’d died. One day she’d been there, supporting him, the foundation holding him up and the next, he’d been on his own again, adrift. “And ever since then, I’ve been…I don’t know. A little lost. All my friends from college graduated and moved on and I’m still here and—I know you don’t believe it, but I was so, so happy when you wanted to be friends, I…I haven’t had that for such a long time.”

He could taste salt and this time it was tears. There was a box of tissue on the side table and Stretch snagged it, plunking it on the bed so Jeff could grab a few, wiping his face dry, as much as he could with tears still trickling.

He didn’t care. Stretch needed a tissue or two of his own, wiping at his cheek bones, "yeah. me, too. maybe not ever.” Stretch let out another sigh, his bony fingers flexing in Jeff’s grip. “but this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t friends with me.”

That made Jeff laugh weakly through his tears. “It must be because you’re a scientist.”

“what?”

“You guys love being technically right. Yeah, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt, but that doesn’t make it your fault.”

Stretch only hummed thoughtfully. There was no telling if he believed Jeff or not.

He squeezed Stretch’s hand; his grip was weaker than he would have liked and he was starting to want to go back to sleep, but he needed to say a few things yet, “If they'd attacked you, they would have killed you."

There was no question of that, Jeff knew. Low HP, Antwan had told him on that first visit, five on a good day. One good swipe of a knife and Stretch would have been gone, dust, and as terrible as it had been, as terrifying, the blood and the fear lingering in the back of his mind, it was easier to accept when he thought of the alternative; Stretch in the lead, trying to sneak a cigarette, and maybe he would have noticed them, noticed the knife. Maybe not.

"they almost killed you,” Stretch took a deep breath, let it out in a shaky rush, “let's not dwell on the almosts and could be's, yeah? bet edge and antwan will do enough for both of us.”

Antwan, the shock on his face when he was kneeling on the ground next to him, the fear, his bloody hands holding his jacket, pushing it down on the wounds. Fuck, he wanted to see him, touch him, make sure he was okay. Jeff tamped down that urge as best he could. They would come when they could and that would have to be enough.

He wasn’t exactly in much condition to storm out and find him.

Nope, now he was here, in the hospital, and with that thought came another cold realization. Fuck, but this was going to be a fortune in debt, a replacement for the student loans he’d gotten rid of. And they would fucking know it, Stretch and Edge, no, no, not this time. “Listen, I need you to not pay my medical bills.”

Stretch only looked startled, without a hint of guilt, but yeah, liar, liar. “what? andy—”

“I mean it,” Jeff said firmly. “You guys already do too much for me. It’s one thing when it’s bus fares and Chinese food but this is too much. I’ll take care of it.” Surely he could set up a payment plan of some sort, hospitals wanted their money but they’d take what they could get.

Since he hadn’t been able to persuade Jeff to try anything from the breakfast tray, Stretch seemed to have decided it was fair game, peeling the orange and munching on the segments. “pretty nice speech, but we weren’t gonna pay your medical bills. since you’re listed as an embassy employee, they get to cover it all under your health care plan.”

What? Jeff sat up too fast, had to sink back into the pillows with a grimace as his side protested vigorously. “I…what? How am I listed as an Embassy employee?”

Stretch only grinned smugly, licking juice from his fingertips. “did you ever take a good look at that permanent badge edge gave you?”

“Past seeing the picture is terrible, no.” It was in his wallet even now, but Jeff never really looked at it, only handed it to the guards at New New Home whenever he was stopping by.

“welp, spoiler alert, you’re listed as an official liaison between humans and monsterkind. pretty sure edge has been trying to discreetly slip you a job for weeks now, but i’ll let him bring that up to you.”

“But…Edge has me listed as an employee?” Jeff sputtered. “He can’t…he’ll get into trouble!”

“why would he get into trouble?”

"He will!” Jeff scowled as Stretch flopped back into his chair and for once, his visible amusement was not damn well funny. “Look, I don’t want him to stick his neck out for me and cause problems for himself at work.”

Stretch propped an elbow on the chair arm, resting his chin in his palm as he asked with polite interest, “do you even know what edge does?"

"Yes!" Jeff said defensively. "He showed me a lot of it once when we were having lunch together."

"uh huh, i bet he did." Stretch blinked once, slowly, and his amusement was shining in his eye lights. "kid, uh, no one is going to be yelling at edge for what he put on your swipe card. or for anything, really. edge is the senior director of operations, he lowkey runs the embassy from behind the scenes."

"What?" Dumbly, the word falling free, because yeah, Edge really had shown him some stuff, spreadsheets and documents, calmly explaining what he did every day, but Jeff hadn’t suspected that.

Stretch shrugged. "that bit ain’t official, but everyone knows it. edge doesn't want to be in the spotlight, so he does everything from the background, all kinds of shit. He handles pr, the legal teams, sets up meetings with heads of state. all of it goes directly through him. embassy would fall apart without him, no one is going to even question handing over a benefits package. come to think of it, there's probably only a couple people over his head who could question it.”

"Like…like who?" Jeff asked weakly.

“well, there's asgore, of course,” Stretch snagged a handful of grapes, popping one into his mouth. “probably janice. if they'd fall apart without him, he falls apart without her. okay, that’s enough, you’re hurting, and you need to go back to sleep.” Stretch wiped his hands carelessly on a napkin and stood, walking over to the IV to fiddle with something.

“Wait.” Jeff caught his hands, stilling him. “Those guys, the ones that…what happened to them?”

“they got out with their souls intact,” Stretch said sourly. “they’re in jail far as I know.”

That sounded weirdly ominous and gave him another question. “Are you sure Humans even have souls?”

That seemed to take Stretch aback. “um, yeah. i’ve seen them.”

“How?”

“monsters can summon souls," Stretch said, a little impatiently. "it’s a thing, c'mon, kid--”

Today was fraught with information and as much as his side was aching, Jeff couldn’t help asking, “Can you summon mine?”

“well, fuck, you chose a hell of a time to get over your problem asking questions. you’re pretty banged up, kid, i—" Whatever Stretch saw in Jeff’s expression gave him a pause and he stopped with a sigh, “yeah, okay. just…real quick.” He gave the door a wary glance, then settled a hand over Jeff’s chest. “this shouldn’t hurt. tell me if it does.”

His fingers curled inward, almost like he was grabbing something. There was the strangest tugging sensation as if he had a hook caught painlessly in his spine, making his back arch until—

Light coalesced in Stretch’s hand, hovering above the bones and Jeff stared, distantly amazed.

His soul.

Illuminated a pale green, it looked like an actual heart, the same as on a Valentine card. Sort of. It was hard to look at, the edges undefined, wavering between the childish outline and something undefinable, and the light came somehow from within it. “Oh.”

“yeah, you have a nice one,” Stretch didn’t touch it, only let it hover over his outstretched hand. “monster souls are silver, if you don’t have lv, but human souls have a color that matches your dominant trait.”

“What’s my—“

“compassion,” Stretch interrupted softly. “okay, that’s enough.” He let his hand drop and the soul faded, disappeared like it was sliding right through his shirtfront. “don’t try that with just anyone on the street, it’s kinda a big thing.”

“Oh.” He was suddenly terribly sleepy and wondered if it was from pulling out his soul or if Stretch had managed to hit the painkiller pump on his IV when he wasn’t looking. “You seen Edge’s soul?”

“that’s a more complicated question than you think.”

He’d heard that Edge had LV, knew what it was. His mouth seemed to be willing to go on asking questions on its own, uncaring if it was rude or prying. “Has Edge killed someone?”

“yes.” Stretch offered no excuse, no explanation.

“More than one person?”

A long, slow sigh. “yeah, but that’s really his story to tell.”

“He was a soldier.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, quietly. “he was.”

Jeff didn’t know why he asked, couldn’t stop it from spilling out, “Have you killed anyone?”

“one person,” So terribly soft, barely audible, “but i killed them a lot. now go to sleep or i’m gonna put your lights out myself.”

“Stretch?” It was getting hard to think, his consonants softened, slurring out.

“what now?” Stretch asked in exasperated amusement.

“I'm glad you're my friend.”

“thanks, andy.” Warmth settled over Jeff, another blanket? He couldn’t tell. “me, too. i’ll be here when you wake up again, kid.”

“Mmkay.” Sleep was too hard to resist anymore, and his questions faded, lost, as he drifted. His last thought was to hope Antwan and Edge would get here soon and then even that faint worry faded, lost in the darkness.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

47 notes · View notes

cleighwrites · 6 years ago

Text

My Alpha, My Soulmate pt 18

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Alpha!Sam x omega!Reader & beta!Dean x omega!Reader

Summary - Your heat and Sam’s rut are over and you find out what Sam meant when he said that they had a plan in place for when you mated

Word Count - 1,536

A/N - This was beta’d by the amazeballz @mrswhozeewhatsis thanks again!!

Warnings - Gross fluff, little bit of suspense, touch of mating bond stuff... nothing really??

Part 17 ~ Series Master List

Your heat lasted five long days, but your mate took very good care of you, making sure you had plenty of water, keeping you clean and cool, and knotting you every time your body needed it. Going through your heat with an alpha was drastically different than every other heat you had ever gone through. Sam being there for you was equally calming and arousing; the pains not nearly as bad, but the insatiable need to breed was compounded.

Since Sam claimed you, things had been different between the two of you, he seemed to anticipate your needs, and you were able to tell what he was feeling or thinking, even without seeing him. It was such a strange connection, but not an unwelcome one. You already felt like you had that sort of bond with Dean, but with Sam it was almost tangible. Of course you had studied the nature and biology of bonding when you were in school, but the concept was so far fetched, and you had never intended to take a mate, so it never seemed like pertinent information.

Once your heat and his rut ran their course, you were reluctant to leave your room, knowing that Dean would see that you had mated his brother. Sam had tried to assure you that Dean would be fine with the change, and that they had a plan in place. It just hadn’t been something that you had talked to Dean about, so you were less certain of what his reaction would be. You were even more unsure about what this plan was going to entail.

Sam had left you to shower before breakfast, and you were straightening up your room before taking your own shower. Sam had been helping to keep you clean, but you desperately needed to wash your hair. Hearing the door to Sam’s room open and close, you grabbed a clean change of clothes and made your way to the showers. While you washed, you tried to both clear your mind and prepare for whatever reaction Dean may have. You tried to plan your own reactions to each one he may have; mostly it just ended up with you in tears.

After you were dried, dressed, and groomed, you made your way to the kitchen. Sam sat at the table, drinking a cup of coffee, and Dean was at the stove, piling pancakes onto a plate.

You cleared your nerves from your throat and mustered a, “Good morning,” to both of your boys.

Sam only grinned at you, lifting his eyebrows like he was waiting for something to happen. His expression confused you for a moment before Dean turned away from his cooking and caught your attention. He walked over and greeted you properly, arms around your waist and lips pressed to yours.

He pulled away from you and smiled his infectious smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart. Feeling better?”

You were a little shocked at his lack of acknowledgment of your new mark, and replied tentatively, “Yeah, thanks. I’m starving though, it smells great!”

“I thought you’d be hungrier than usual, so I made Texas-size pancakes and plenty of bacon and eggs. Syrup is already on the table.” He ushered you to the table and sat you down across from Sam, who was still watching you, waiting, dimpled grin plastered to his face.

You had never felt uneasy around either brother, but the look in Sam’s eye, and the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, had you a little on edge. Maybe it was because you were newly mated. He seemed extraordinarily happy, from what you could tell, and his scent was exuding happy, expectant alpha. Added to your own nervousness and Dean’s apparent good mood, you were feeling a little more energized yourself.

“I see you let someone get a bite out of you.” Here it goes.

You steeled your nerves and took in a deep breath. “Dean, I-”

“It suits you,” Dean finished. He sat next to you and put a glass of juice next to the plate of pancakes he had brought over.

Blushing at his compliment, you weren’t quite sure where to go from here; calm acceptance hadn’t been a reaction you had rehearsed in your head. “Thanks,” you replied, not able to look him in the eye. You glanced at Sam who raised his hands and his eyebrows before getting up to get more coffee.

Dean nudged the pancake plate closer to you, suggesting you load up your plate, so you grabbed your fork and stabbed the top of the stack, transferring the giant fluffy concoction onto your plate. Suddenly the air was thick with nerves, you bristled and looked between both men. You couldn’t tell who was so nervous; Sam had seemed more expectant than nervous, but why would Dean be so anxious? Sam was still facing away from you refilling his coffee, and Dean was watching you, smiling. He gestured for you to get another pancake and you realized he had sweat gathering on his brow. Maybe he was hot from standing in front of the stove, cooking; so soon after your heat, it was hard for you to tell if the room was actually that hot or not.

You smiled at him and stabbed another pancake and brought it over to your plate. Something was caught under it, and landed on the table with a small clink as the pancake flopped into its new place. You dropped your fork and moved your plate over to see what it was, and you froze. You could feel Sam’s anticipation rise as he turned back to face you, and Dean’s apprehension was now permeating the room.

Turning wide eyes toward Dean you watched as he gracefully placed one knee under his seat and knelt before you, then leaned forward and picked up the ring from the table. You were speechless as he grabbed your left hand and looked you in the eye.

“Y/N.” His green eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. “I know things aren’t exactly ideal, and you never pictured yourself settling down and feeling like you belonged to someone else. Eh,” he added when you drew a breath to respond, “I’m here to tell you that you don’t belong to either one of us. We belong to you.” He paused, then continued in a more unsure tone. “I know that a biological claiming is a little more… binding, but I would be one of the luckiest men in the world if you would allow me to marry you-”

“Yes!” you interrupted him, “yes, Dean!”

“Yeah?” he asked. “I mean, I had this whole, we’re soulmates, soul-binding speech lai-”

“You don’t have to explain.” You were smiling through your tears and your hand shook as he slid the modest silver band onto your ring finger. It was still warm from being hidden between the pancakes.

You grabbed Dean’s face as soon as he released the ring and drew him into a jaw-breaking kiss. The rest of the world faded away as you melted into Dean’s touch. His hands held firmly onto your back and the back of your head, as yours moved from his cheeks to his hair. When you pulled back from him so that you could both catch your breath the entire room smelled of love and hope and excitement. You even felt a happiness that didn’t belong to you, and you turned to find your alpha smiling down at the two of you.

“I’m so happy for you. I told you you had nothing to worry about,” he added with a shrug, “we had a plan.” Sam’s smile turned into a smirk and he sipped his coffee again before leaving the room.

“Is this really- I mean, do you actually…,” you couldn’t figure out exactly what it was you were trying to say.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, what is it?” Dean was smiling so brightly at you that you could hardly get your thoughts straight.

“How is this real life?” you asked yourself. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me, I mean.”

The joy in his eyes dimmed at your question, and it broke your heart that you had ruined this moment for him.

“I wouldn’t dream of spending my life with anyone else, other than Sammy, but that’s not the same thing. I should be asking you that. It’s not like I’m the greatest catch.”

“Dean! You’re selfless and attentive and thoughtful and so brave. The world is literally a better place because you’re in it. Dean, you and Sam are the greatest catches this world has to offer. I can’t believe that I am lucky enough to know you both, let alone be destined to be with either of you, much less both of you. I’m the lucky one.”

Dean reached forward and wiped the tears from your cheeks and kissed you so deeply that you forgot about what you had been talking about. He kissed you thoroughly, until you were both grinning more than kissing. “Eat up, sweetheart, these are your engagement pancakes.” Dean winked at you then placed another quick kiss to your lips before turning you back to face your abandoned breakfast.

Part 19

Please reblog if you liked it! Feel free to ASK for anything else you may like to read or if you would like to be added to my tag list!

All the tags:

@amanda-teaches @waywardbaby @impala-dreamer @ericaprice2008 @whimsicalrobots @evansrogerskitten @chloeaacole @mcchubbin @danica-queen-of-hell @holyfuckloueh @wonderfulwinchestersmut @andkatiethings @dean-winchesters-bacon @mogaruke @super-fan-of-all-things @speakinvain @adoptdontshoppets @superlightalternateuniverse88 @kittenofdoomage @myxtina @babypink224221 @just-another-busy-fangirl @81mysteriouslyme @brewsthespirit-blog @curly-haired-disaster @closetspngirl @death-unbecomes-you @mrswhozeewhatsis @pretty-fortune

Sammy tags:

@mereka18 @bunnybaby121115 @wayward-gypsy @samsgoddess @chileansoul-englishheart @stuff-i-guesskms @linki-locks11

Dean tags:

@deangirl7695 @pisces-cutie @bangtasticbobby @akshi8278 @shamelesslydean

#my alpha my soulmate #spn a/b/o #alpha!sam #beta!dean #omega!reader #spnfanficpond #alpha!sam x omega!reader #beta!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #jelly fish fic #soulmate au #cleighwrites

97 notes · View notes

caramelabbacchiato · 6 years ago

Text

100 Themes Challenge - Day 1

Hello, everyone! My name is Strange. You can find out more about me here. I just recently created this blog to share my love of JJBA through screaming and crying in the tags of posts, and in my writing. What better way to start than to take on a huge challenge right of the bat, eh?

I was (and am) so nervous about doing this, so I decided to start off with my ultimate comfort character. It was an excellent choice.

If you like what you read, I do take requests for a multitude of things! You can find my guidelines here.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and for your support! I hope to talk with you soon~

Now, without further ado...

Today’s theme: Introduction

Rating: G (for good good boy(s))

Nervous fingers shake their way through a long, red curl, twirling around the end and catching hold. Pulling it taut, a thought flickers through the mind of a quiet boy, body wracked with hidden tension.

This is a lot different than an RPG.

In one of his familiar games, he’d be presented with unchanging options, no matter how many times he had to revisit the situation. He’d pick the dialogue that earned him smiles and laughter, maybe even a friend or two. He’d then carry on with his simulated day, knowing that he made the right choice; how could he not? He knew this route backwards and forwards, enough that he could do it with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back.

But this isn’t a game. And no matter how many times he’s forced to replay the same scenario of being the new kid, he can never seem to get it right. This used to riddle him with anxiety and keep him up until all hours of the morning, wondering where he went wrong. Was he not interesting enough? Did he not smile the appropriate amount of times during friendly conversation? Was he simply unapproachable?

The answer, he would come to find, after a rinse and repeat of trial and error, was none of these things. First impressions and short term acquaintances weren’t his issue. The fact is that he simply wouldn’t let anyone in long enough to truly know him, and then they’d leave after feeling discouraged. He couldn’t blame them.

Old habits die hard.

He was used to being alone, comfortable with himself and the expected presence of his parents. By the time he realized he may want to branch out, he was already set in his ways. When he wasn’t at home, his own thoughts served as his best friend and most trusted confidante, his mind a time capsule for all of his daydreams. Sometimes, a full day could go by and he would only remember fragments of it, not able to discern reality from the world inside of him.

“...riaki?”

The end of a question breaks through the wall of insecurity and Violet eyes meet a patient gaze.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” His voice comes out shakier than he anticipated it would, heavy with apology; he just gets so lost in his head sometimes, he barely even registers anything going on around him. If his teacher notices, he doesn’t react, even as a few scattered students snicker from their desks. He simply acknowledges him with a nod and repeats himself.

“I was asking if you’d like to say anything to the class before we begin our lessons.”

His curl springs back into place as he lets it go in favor of nodding his head and turning towards his new classmates. “Nice to meet you. My name is Noriaki Kakyoin. I look forward to getting to know you all.” It’s simple, but it gets the job done.

The veil of anonymity is lifted and Noriaki lets out a sigh; the hardest part is over now. He looks into the sea of students sitting before him and notices an empty desk, towards the back, next to a group of boys. One of them has striking, silver hair, pulled up into an interesting style. He’s having a quiet, yet heated, conversation with the person sitting next to him, beautiful, dark skin radiant in the sunlight pouring through the window. Noriaki’s eyes travel from them to the boy seated next to the desk he’s sure he’ll claim as his own; he freezes once his gaze completes its journey.

An intense look set on an equally intense face stares right back at Noriaki from underneath the brim of a hat. It’s only a span of seconds that they hold each other’s eyes, but it feels like an eternity, and Noriaki can sense a blush start to creep its way across his cheeks. Before he can even begin to hope that his flustered state isn’t noticeable, the boy cracks a smile; it’s small, barely even there, but Noriaki notices right away. He turns away before his situation gets even worse.

The next few minutes are spent in a daze. Noriaki barely registers when his teacher instructs him to take his seat; feels like he’s floating on a cloud as he makes his way to the desk; can’t process that he’s already sat himself down until he goes to move again. But he can clearly feel a pair of eyes on the side of his head as he pushes his hair back, grounding himself enough to focus on more than just the racing of his mind and heart in sync.

Feeling brave, Noriaki looks up and, once again, makes eye contact with the boy so painfully close to him now. He can’t help but notice how attractive he is with his dark eyes and thick eyebrows, full lips turned down in a frown that looks more thoughtful than angry. Before he can think twice, Noriaki lets himself give a tentative smile, hoping that the quiver of his lips is noticeable only to himself. The other almost looks startled, before nodding his head in return.

They’re still looking at each other as the seconds pass by, a silence that should be uncomfortable, but really isn’t, settling between them. Noriaki thinks that this is how their short encounter will end until one of them gets the courage to steal another glance, but then his neighbor opens his mouth and speaks.

“The name’s Jotaro. Jojo, if you want.” His voice is deep, a lot deeper than Noriaki anticipated, but fitting; he feels just a little bit rocked to the core as his head ducks in understanding.

“Nice to meet you, Jojo,” he says, liking how it feels to say the other’s name. Jotaro’s eyes give way to a split-second softness that catches Noriaki by surprise, his smile growing in response.

Warm. That’s how Noriaki would describe this vulnerable moment; he almost wishes it would never end. But then the silver-haired boy sitting in front of him is turning around, a look of displeasure on his face.

“Oh, I see how it is, Jojo. You’re not going to introduce your new friend to your best friend?” The words are said with a playful edge to them, the hints of a smile at the ends of the other’s lips as Jotaro lets out a huff in reply. “In that case, I’ll do it myself. I’m Jean Pierre Polnareff. Friends call me Pol.”

Noriaki begins to answer, but before any words can come out, the boy sitting next to Jean turns in his seat and offers a stern look. “It would be wise if you paid attention to the lesson,” he says, voice smooth and firm. “If I remember correctly, you didn’t do very well on our last test, so you have no room for idle chit-chat.”

Jean’s face turns a shade of red as vibrant as his personality before his eyebrows furrow and he sticks his tongue out in defiance. “Whatever, Muhammad. What are you, my mom? I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

Muhammad simply shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention to Noriaki. “Don’t mind him. He’s a lot to handle on a good day, but he’s not a bad guy. Just try not to let him distract you too much.”

Noriaki can’t help but to laugh a little at that, even more amused when Jean lets out a loud sound of protest and then, “I am not a lot to handle!”

That’s enough to get everyone’s attention, the room going silent in an instant. Their teacher lets out a sigh, frustrated but not surprised by the interruption. No words need to be exchanged for Jean to mumble out an apology, and the lesson continues as it was.

None of them speak again for the rest of the class, but Noriaki can’t help but to keep on smiling. And whenever he chances a glance to the side, he notices that Jotaro is still barely containing a smile, too.

Maybe this time will be different.

The thought lingers with him for the rest of the day, filling him with a feeling he can’t quite describe, but can only hope will last.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #stardust crusaders #noriaki kakyoin #kakyoin noriaki #jotaro kujo #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #words by strange #100 themes challenge

3 notes · View notes

hannahindie · 7 years ago

Text

Chaos and Destruction

Characters: Reader x Dean (Sam and Cas mentioned) Word count: 1,018 Warnings: None, I don’t believe, other than a badass reader. A/N: Hey all! Gosh, it felt good to write something again. Thanks to @atc74 for hosting a great challenge, Fierce Females in Fanfiction. This went a little differently than I initially planned, but I really like where it went. I hope you all do, too! The prompt will be italicized!

Beta’d by @amanda-teaches, who is a sweet angel.

Here’s to hoping people are hanging around to read this. lol Tags are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Dean brought the whiskey to his lips as he watched her from across the bar, her head thrown back in laughter as another man was brought down by her pool skills. He smirked as the losing opponent shook his head and handed her the wad of cash that had been sitting on the edge of the pool table.

She practically skipped to the bar and plopped on the stool next to him, leaning close as she waved down the bartender.

“How much did you get that poor guy for?”

“It’s rude to ask that. Let it suffice to say, more than you.” She waved the wad of cash at him, then slipped it into her pocket. “You could always find it later, maybe count it then,” she said with a wink as she turned away and waved down the bartender.

His eyes traveled to the thin stripe of skin showing between her shirt and her jeans, then roved up, just to see her staring at him.

“You need something?” Dean grinned, “Yea, but now’s not the time.” He took another sip of beer, and she grinned.

“Eh, you couldn’t handle this anyway, Winchester.” She hopped down from the stool and walked over to where Sam was showing Cas how to shoot pool. He spun around and leaned back against the bar. He was amazed she was even here; her reputation preceded her. Stories of a lone woman, never one to work with others, but always one to utterly destroy her target and move on without a second glance.

Many were the stories of a woman in worn jeans and a black leather jacket, the outfit like a uniform in every tale spun at bars and hunting refuges. Details changed, specifics exaggerated, but one thing always remained; her haunting laugh as she celebrated a win, a smile on her face when she faced what should have been her end.

Dean had never seen this mysterious woman, honestly didn’t even think she existed, until they had gone to clear a vamp nest about a year ago. As much as he’d hate to admit it, he and Sam had had their asses handed to them, and it was one of the few times that he questioned whether they would actually make it out.

Then he heard her.

Like some sort of answer to an unspoken prayer, she had swooped in, laughing as she took out one vampire after another. To this day, he wasn’t sure how she had done it. There really wasn’t a good explanation, but it happened and her laugh...oh, her laugh sounded like chaos and destruction. It sounded like a woman who’d quit caring a long time ago, wreckless but still somehow controlled, like she was aiming the chaos as if it were a weapon. She’d saved their lives, and Dean was pretty sure that was the day he’d fallen in love with her.

He didn’t say anything to her about it, though, because the thing about girls like that...they didn’t need a knight in shining armor. He didn’t have to swoop in and save her, didn’t have to jump to her defense at bars or put himself between her and whatever threat they were facing. He wasn’t even entirely sure why she was still hanging around; she had made it pretty clear that the stories were accurate.

He had learned not to question it though, because she never did anything she didn’t want to do. He smiled as she laughed at something Cas said, then chuckled at the look on Cas’ face when she smacked him on the ass as she grabbed the extra pool cue off the wall. He spun back around and waved down the bartender.

“Whiskey, neat.” She nodded in response and he looked down at the bar as he waited, fingers drumming against the wood. She slid it to him and, before he could put money down, another hand appeared and slapped a couple bills on the bar.

“Keep the change.”

Dean looked up, and raised an eyebrow when he saw that it was Y/N. “What was that for?”

“It doesn’t always have to be men that pay for the drinks, does it?”

“I guess you’re right,” he laughed as he threw back his shot. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused as if waiting for him to say something, then sighed. “Do you have the nerve, now?”

He frowned, “Nerve for what?”

She groaned in frustration, then grabbed his knee and spun him around on the stool. She shoved herself between his legs so that she was standing against him, her hands resting on his thighs. “For this.” Her hands moved from his thighs to his face, each one settling lightly against his jawline as she brought her lips to his. For a moment, he was stunned. Was he sleeping? Was this a dream, a djinn induced coma to tease him about what it could be like? Was this a bet lost or one too many drinks?

And then he realized he didn’t care.

One hand gripped her hip and the other went to her hair, burying it in the soft strands while he pulled her even closer, his lips molding against hers perfectly.

When she finally, to his disappointment, pulled back, he cocked his head. “What was that?”

“Well, I thought it was something enjoyable but if we’re going to question it…” If it were anyone else, he would think she was mad, but he saw the sparkle in her eyes, and added her sense of humor to the list of things he adored.

“Oh, it was. I just didn’t expect it.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, one of us had to do it. You clearly weren’t going to, and a girl wants what a girl wants. So I went for it.”

“You did say that I couldn’t handle you, in my defense.”

“I never said I couldn’t teach you.” She kissed him again, and Dean thought that maybe this was the best lesson he’d ever learned.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? Check out my master list HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspirit @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @mrsbatesmotel53 @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @thelittleredwhocould @jotink78 @amanda-teaches @ilsawasanacrobat @squirrel-moose-winchester @mjdoc90 @anticipate1003 @mrswhozeewhatsis @mogaruke @speakinvain @linki-locks11 @wildlandfox @rhochradel @lostnliterature @eternal-elir @spn-ficfanatic @polina-93 @lexiiiii28 @poukothenerd @emoryhemsworth @yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend @adoptdontshoppets @closetspngirl @mersuperwholocked-lowlife

Dean Only: @akshi8278 @valkyrieslament @lavieenlex @highonpastries @wholelottajackles @imascio08

#Angelina’s F3 Challenge #Supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #fluff #badass reader #reader insert #dean x reader

93 notes · View notes

khadij-al-kubra · 7 years ago

Text

Can I Bar-row Your Attend-tion (ch. 5)

Pairing: Roman/Patton

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Thomas, Dio (Deceit), (OC)

Word Count: (Eh, I give up XD)

Summary: Roman and Patton are two bartenders at a local bar & grill with some serious chemistry. However, the only people who don’t realize it are each other, and one of them is in a relationship…on the rocks.

Author’s Note: Hey friends! This is it. The Final chapter! I know it’s been forever and I am SO SORRY!! Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with the story ‘till the end. I am SO grateful to you all!! It means so much to me that you all enjoyed my writing, more so than you could know! If you’d like to be in the tag list for any other works I may write in the future, please let me know. If not, no worries! Just knowing that this story was able to make people smile and laugh is enough for me. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Enjoy!

<--PREVIOUS

Chapter 5: Make it a Double (POV- Roman)

“Greetings hungry and thirsty patrons! Logan, I got your text and lucky for you my rehearsal got out early tonight. Apparently the director ate a bad—“

Roman had expected it to be a busy night at the bar & grill. He had expected everyone to be a bit wound up and stressed from work. The last thing he ever expected to see when he walked through the door was Patton in front of the bar crying in Virgil’s arms. The sweet man before him, the object of his affections and who always wore a smile, looked so broken and vulnerable before him.

It shattered Roman’s heart.

He rushed to Patton’s side immediately and gently cupped the other bartender’s face in his hands. Roman tried to wipe away some of the stray tears with his thumbs. They did not belong there.

“Patton, what’s wrong?” Roman asked. “Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Are you sick?”

Patton didn’t seem to be injured yet his wracked sobs continued as he shook his head. The sight of his beloved so distraught twisted Roman’s chest and made him want nothing more than to fight whatever had cause Patton so much pain.

“Virgil, what on earth happened!?” he asked, turning anxiously towards his friend.

Virgil signed. “You’re not gonna like this…”

Roman listened as Virgil filled him in on what he’d witnessed in Archwood Park. How he’d spotted Dio kissing someone else, proof that he’d been cheating on Patton for who knows how long, and how Virgil immediately went to Sanders’ to tell Patton the truth as gently as possible. It wasn’t that Roman couldn’t believe that Dio was capable of cheating. Far from it to be honest; after all, both Roman and especially Virgil had good instincts about people and neither had ever liked the dancer. What shocked and revolted Roman was the fact that Dio had been so villainous as to do such a thing to someone as kindhearted and loving as Patton. Poor sweet Patton who would never hurt so much as a fly; heck, he would likely nurse one back to health. How DARE he betray the trust of my precious Patton!

It took every ounce of strength not to erupt in righteous fury then and there. Right now Patton needed him. He took a breath to quell his anger for the moment and stepped back to properly look Patton in the eyes with all the tenderness he could convey. Although his honey eyes were waters and his freckled face blotchy, Patton still looked to Roman like the most sublime creature in existence. Roman searched for the right words to best comfort Patton, to reassure him that he deserved so much better that this act of betrayal, that we was worthy of the most true and faithful love.

Before he could however, Patton caught him in an embrace with such force that he had to take a step or two to regain footing. The heat rose to Roman’s cheeks. Sure they’d hugged before, but never so intensely as this. He could feel Patton trembling as he cried. Screw not crossing any lines. Roman wrapped his arms around Patton and held his trembling figure close, stroking fingers through his soft wavy hair in the hopes of soothing his wounded heart. Patton…can you feel how much I love you? And he did love Patton, so very much…and he would avenge his love’s broken heart even if it was the last thing he did.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. Roman took Patton’s hand and kissed it before nodding to Virgil. ‘Take care of him for me,’ he mouthed, and Virgil nodded back ‘I will’. Reassured that Patton would be in good hands, Roman turned to the door, clenching his fists.

“I’m going to kill that creep.” Roman marched forward, a man on a mission.

“Roman where are you going? You just got here,” said Logan.

“Sorry boss. I’ve got a knuckle sandwich to deliver!”

Roman held tight to his anger as he walked out the door, barely registering that Patton had called out to him.

He held onto his anger as he got into his car and drove over to Archwood Park where his co-worker has often mentioned that his boyfriend (ugh! he doesn’t deserve that honor!) often performed at this time of night.

He held onto his anger when he parked his car in a 24 hour spot, just in case things got ugly and he hoped they would get ugly for a certain snaked faced prick.

He held onto his anger when he marched through the park until he found his target in question, surrounded by a small audience that watched him breakdance and contorted his shoulder in a crude fashion. Roman shuddered, disturbed. I’ll never understand what Patton saw in him.

He just barely held onto his coiled up rage until he forced his way through the crowd and finally unleashed the full force of it through his fist onto Dio’s tattooed face.

“THAT IS FOR PATTON!” Roman shouted.

The crowd around them gasped. Some took out their phones. Roman took great pleasure in seeing the look of surprise and pain on the dancer’s face as the force of the blow knocked him to the ground.

“What the HELL was that about, Prince?” asked Dio, wiping the blood from his lip. A bruise was already blossoming on his cheekbone.

“You STAY AWAY from my Patton, you lying, cheating, slimy SCUMBAG!”

Dio stood wobbly back up and straightened his bowler hat. “Why does everybody call me slimy? I’m not! I just have large sweat glands.”

“You betrayed the trust of your boyfriend, the most pure hearted person on the planet, and cheated on him with some other man. You’re a two faces LIAR and that is what makes you a slimy boi, you villainous serpent!”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Roman saw with satisfaction that he’d managed to chip a tooth. “But he isn’t your Patton, and you’re interrupting my performance. So why don’t you do yourself a favor and—“

“The only favor I’m doing,” said Roman, grabbing him by the shirt, “is telling you one last time. Stay. Away. From Patton!”

“Wait, Patton from that old dive bar downtown?” said an audience member.

“That really sweet guy from Sanders’?”

“This guy cheated on him?”

Dio looked nervously around as his audience went from cheering for him and tossing dollars into his hat to whispering about him. He was really sweating now.

“No way to save face now.” Roman smirked up at Dio as he looked around him frantically. “Can’t lie your way out of this one you son of a—”

A fast and painful knee to the side from Dio silenced Roman. He let the other guy go and clutched his stomach in pain. That was definitely going to bruise later. At least he didn’t get me in the face.

“What I do in my private life and relationship is non of your business. Besides, Patton will never believe you over me. He trusts me too much. It’s not like we both don’t know he’s a naïve lovesick—“

Roman tackled him to the ground. “YOU AREN’T WORTHY OF PATTON’S LOVE!”

Roman and Dio rolled on the hard concrete ground trading blows. Dio was fast but the actor was stronger and madder, so he landed more hits than the dancer beneath him. He got some good shots to the ribs that would surely leave his pale form black and blue for days, as well as a nice shot to the eye. Dio got in some scrapes and gave Roman a split lip (he did manage to get the face), but by the time someone pulled Roman off him Dio was the worse for wear.

“Alright, alright, break it up!” Roman turned and, to his dread, saw that the voice belonged to a park police officer. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Officer,” said Dio, who was also being held up by another policeman. “This crazy stranger just came out of nowhere and assaulted me! Arrest—ow.”

“Stranger? You’ve known me for months you liar!” Roman scoffed. “And I did not assault him for no reason, officer. I came here to defend the honor of my friend, whom he has been cheating on! If anyone deserves to be arrested it’s him for crimes against love and all that is decent!”

“Enough!” said the female officer holding him back. “Did anyone see who threw the first punch?”

The crowd of onlookers seemed, for the most part, to be on Roman’s side more than Dio’s. Roman even recognized one or two faces from the bar. However, no one wanted to lie to the police so they mumbled and reluctantly pointed to Roman. That was enough for the officer.

“That settles it. Looks like I have to take you down to the station. Officer Hobs, looks like that one needs a doctor, so make sure he finds a ride. Show’s over folks.”

The officer placed her handcuffs on him, lead him to her car nearby, and read Roman his rights. Sufficed to say, it was the most terrifying drive of Roman’s life. Ohhh sweet Sondheim, I’ve really gotten myself into trouble this time. Even so, he couldn’t help thinking that it was worth it. At least, he hoped it would be…

…They soon arrived at the police station, yet to Roman it all felt a bit unreal. Having his mug shot taken (worst headshots ever), taking his thumb print, giving them his personal information, and having the handcuffs removed when brought to a grey walled room. It was only when he was sitting beneath those fluorescent lights and saw his battered reflection in the double sided window/mirror (sweet mother of hairbrushes, what was his hair!?) that it hit Roman just how much shit he’d landed himself into.

“Listen, I can explain—I didn’t mean—don’t I get a phone call or something?” Roman rambled nervously.

“No,” said Officer (according to her badge) Rivera. “Personal calls are restricted to persons in custody and questioning…Relax kid, this isn’t Law & Order. I’m just going to ask you a few simple questions and have you explain to me in full detail what happened and why. Clear?”

Roman gulped. “Crystal.”

So he answered her questions first. Then he told Officer Rivera about his day, told her about Patton and his relationship with Dio as well as his own personal feelings for Patton. She took notes in her pad as he spoke and didn’t seem very partial to whatever he said in his defense. However, when he got to the part about Virgil and his discovery of Dio’s infidelity, it seemed to strike a chord with her. True, the officer hid it behind a professional demeanor, but Roman was a good enough actor to catch subtle expression changes in other people.

“So that’s what happened,” Roman finished with a deep breath. “Am I…going to jail?”

Officer Rivera finished jotting her notes and steepled her fingers before answering. Good lord this woman knows how to leave you in suspense.

“Ordinarily you’d be tried under charges of assault.” That sent a chill up his spike. “However, the other guy didn’t make any official charges against you and since there were no reliable witnesses or officers on scene at the time, this could be classified as a misdemeanor. Which we don’t make arrests for. So you won’t be prosecuted.”

Roman released the breath he’d held. “Oh thank goodness!”

“That being said we’ll still have to keep you here overnight as protocol. Unless you can pay the fine for bail.”

“I’m a part-time bartender and community theater actor. Do I seem like I have that kind of money?”

“Wait, community theatre?” At this she let her impartial police demeanor slip. She looked down at the file with his man on it. “Roman Prince…You wouldn’t happen to be part of the RENT production going on, would you?”

“Uhh I am?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with my daughter Krystal, would you?”

“Why yes, she’s out Mimi—Wait, you’re Krystal’s mother?” Didn’t see that coming.

“I am. So you’re the new friend that she keeps talking about. My daughter says you’ve got quite the acting chops, and that you’re a pretty stand-up guy.”

“Well, I think you’re daughter is pretty fantastic too. Probably one of the best actors I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Not to mention one of the best singers I’ve ever heard. I mean seriously, she can hit an A about high C! Do you know how HARD that is? She’s SO talented!”

The policewoman chuckled. “She did say you were pretty over the top. And yeah, that she is.”

Officer Rivera seemed to be regarding Roman in a new light. He shifted awkwardly in his metal chair as she stared him down, drumming her fingers on the table. Then she sighed loudly.

“So, technically you aren’t allowed to make any calls…I on the other had am free to,” she said. “So, if I happened to know the number of a certain family member of yours or a friends or…”

She slyly slid a piece of paper and her pen across the table to him. Ohhh! Catching on, Roman wrote down the number of Sanders. It was one of the few phone numbers he’d remembered off the top of his head (they’d confiscated his cell phone along with his wallet), and surely Thomas or Logan would still be there at least. Ah geez, he is not going to be happy about this. He finished and slid the paper back over.

“I can’t thank you enough Officer Rivera ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta take you to a holding cell here for a little while. Don’t panic, it’s not a jail cell. Think of it as a really small boring waiting room.”

Roman nodded his understanding and allowed her to take him to a small room with one crosshatched window on the metal door. With an apologetic face, Officer Rivera locked him in. He looked around at the grey stained walls and dented metal bench against the wall. Might as well have a seat. The bench was cold and uncomfortable, yet as tired as Roman felt he could’ve probably taken a nap then and there. That is, if he wasn’t feeling the aches from his fight setting in on him finally.

All the adrenaline and anger form before was gone, leaving him all aware of the bruise on his side, the scraped skin of his knuckles and the iron taste of dried blood on his cut lip. It was worth it. It was SO worth getting to punch Dio in his stupid face. At least, that’s what Roman kept telling himself. Being in such a solitary quiet place gave him too much time to think about whether or not he had acted too rashly. Yes he has done it with the intent to defend Patton’s honor, but was there a bit of selfishness to it as well? After all, he’d never liked that Dio got to be Patton’s boyfriend and not him. Was it really right of him to have stepped in on Patton’s personal life like that? And what would Patton think of him after he found out Roman had basically kicked his boyfriend’s ass, even if it was for good reason? The first thing Roman would do once he got out of this place is apologize to Patton.

If I get out of this place…

…Roman must have dozed off at some point for a bit. He was suddenly jarred awake by the screeching sound of a metal door unlocking. He sat up with a grunt.

“Prince, you made bail,” said Officer Rivera.

“Wait, really? But who—“

Before he could finish Logan stepped in from behind the policewoman’s back. Roman had never been happier to see his stoic face.

“Logan?”

“Roman. How are you?” asked Logan, scanning Roman’s injuries. “I apologize I was unable to come sooner. I had to stop at the bank first.”

The tone of his voice revealed how concerned he truly was. No doubt Roman must have looked a wreck. He gave Logan a guilty half smile as he stood up from the hard bench and met him at the door.

“Trust me, I look worse than I feel. A lot better than I left Dio looking,” he said.

Logan nodded to him and, to Roman’s surprise, gave a flickered grin. “Good.”

Logan turned to Officer Rivera. “Since I made the payment in cash to your chief officer, I trust he won’t be called in again?”

“Given that there wasn’t any police witness at the scene it could be classified as a minor offence. Besides, the other guy neglected to place any official charges against your friend, so as far as we’re concerned he’s free to go.”

“Thanks again Officer,” said Roman. “If there’s any way I can repay you, I shall.”

“It was no trouble. Just tell my daughter to call her mother more often,” she said with a wink.

“Consider it done.”

He gave a mock bow that made her chuckle deeply and Logan rolled his eyes. That is, until they saw how Roman winced from the motion. Guess Dio had put more of a dent in him that he’d realized.

“We should get going Roman,” said Logan. “Thomas, Virgil and Patton are waiting back at the bar & grill. I have my car.”

They retrieved Romans things before leaving the police station and headed to Logan’s parked Volkswagen. Logan filled him in on what had occurred at Sanders after he’d stormed out. How he’d closed up early, the way their regulars had stood up and vouched for Logan and getting the call from the police station. It left Roman both surprised and in awe. He knew that their customers were loyal, but it warmed his heart to hear just how much. Not to mention the way Logan had put himself out there for his employees. Guess the cyborg had a heart after all. Roman always suspected as much.

When Officer Rivera said she’s make a call to Sanders’ for him, he’d thought that Thomas or maybe Virgil would be the ones to come to the station, even if the couldn’t get him out. Roman never expected his boss and friend to be the one to come to his rescue, let alone go above and beyond by paying what must have been quite the pricey bail. He’d never be able to repay him enough.

“Logan,” said Roman. “I didn’t get to properly thank you back there. For what you did, I mean. Paying my bail like that, it was, I can’t thank you eno—“

“Just for the record, the price of bail will be coming incrementally out of your next few paychecks,” said Logan. “And I do not care if we are friends. If you ever pull such an impulsive stunt like that again, even if it was for a noble reason, I will NOT let it slide and I WILL be forced to have you find work elsewhere. Understood?”

There was a stern bite to each word that came out of his mouth, and Roman couldn’t help shrinking a bit in the passengers seat. It felt like when he was scolded by his mother as a young boy for standing on the dinning room table reciting soliloquies.

Roman gulped. “Clear as crystal.”

“Good,” said Logan. After a pause he turned to Roman on a stoplight and his face actually softened up again. “Speaking outside of being your boss, however…that was a noble thing you did. Defending Patton’s honor.”

“Wow…Thanks specs,” said Roman, humbled.

“Of course,” Logan said, with a smile. Then he turned back to the road. “Once I had learned the details of the reason behind your sudden departure and Patton’s distress at the hands of Dio, I too had the urge to smite him down like the hand of God. Albeit in a much less physical manner than you opted for.”

Roman gulped when he caught the icy glint behind his glasses. He made a mental note to never get on Logan’s bad side.

“So, we are friends then?” Roman asked teasingly.

“That was the impression I’ve been operating under. However much I attempt to remain impartial during business hours.”

“Come on poindexter, you love us. Admit it. You’re a big ol’ softy.”

“Falsehood.” Logan couldn’t hide his faint blush.

Roman laughed. “So, as friends, can I ask you something that I’ve always been curious about?”

“Of course,” said Logan, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as he pushed back up his glasses.

“Why did you decide to own a bar and grill? I mean with your brains I would’ve imagined you’d want to be some sort of teacher or a chemist or something.”

Roman was afraid he had stepped too far into personal territory. However, Logan simply smiled and even gave a low chuckle.

“I can understand why you would think that, and truth be told I had considered being a mathematician for a long time.”

“So why a restaurant owner?”

After a pause Logan said, “As you know, I have aspergers syndrome, and as such I have never been the best at picking up on social cues or reading people. That doesn’t mean I have no desire to connect with people, it just makes it more difficult. Growing up, people were like a puzzle that I need to solve—that I wanted to understand and connect with better.”

Logan made a turn signal before continuing. Gee, the ride from Sanders to the park to the police station hadn’t felt half as long to Roman the first time around. Then again, I guess time moves a bit differently while in the back of a police car.

“Something I learned from growing up in a large family–aside from the fact that little brothers are demons–was that people seem to connect more openly over a shared meal in a comfortable environment. Thus over time I thought to myself, what better way to combine my love of mathematics and my desire to better observe and understand others than by operating my own business, specifically a food establishment? So I earned my GED, bought Sanders from an old family friend, and turned it into a bar & grill.”

“And…did you get what you wanted out of it?”

“Indeed. Running Sanders’ and familiarizing myself with our customers has helped me to connect with people better than I ever could have. Tonight was proof of this. Granted the lot of you exacerbate me to no end some days but…becoming friends with you, Joan, Talyn, Virgil, Thomas and Patton especially has helped me tremendously in this regard.”

He noticed how Logan had made no attempt to hide the warmth behind those words and even smiled more openly than he’d ever seen. Perhaps it was because they were speaking outside of work that he’d let himself do so. Here he wasn’t Logan the boss man, he was Logan the friend. Either way, Roman had never felt closer to the big nerd. However, the mention of Patton brought Roman back to reality.

“How…how is Patton? Did he say anything when I left?” Roman asked. “About…me?”

Logan breathed out through his nose. “It’s difficult to say. He was a 9 on the emotional pain scale regarding Dio’s betrayal, and he seemed distraught over you after hearing about your temporary incarceration. I can only imagine how he will react upon seeing your current state.”

Roman gulped at hearing his fears confirmed and silently cursed his own impulsiveness. He didn’t regret throttling Dio, but the last thing Roman had wanted was to cause Patton further pain, yet he did just that. Still, he had to face Patton eventually. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

“Oh Patton,” he whispered to himself, “please forgive me.”

* * * * *

They got back to Sanders about 15 minutes later. It was strange going back into the bar & grill when it was all closed up, yet the light peeking out from inside through the blinds reminded Roman that his friends and crush were waiting for them inside. Logan unlocked the door and Roman followed him inside.

The bar had been cleared, the floors mopped and the chairs stacked atop the tables. Virgil was nervously scribbling on a napkin while Thomas was telling him something, likely going over breathing exercises judging by the rise and fall of their chests. Patton was pacing over by the bar and nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his favorite grey cardigan. Roman guessed he likely had changed out of uniform into his own clothes, given that Patton was also wearing a blue polo instead of his black t-shirt. When Logan shut the door with a clank all three heads shot up.

Roman only had eyes for Patton, who looked both relieved and about to cry. He felt so guilty for causing Patton further grief. Surely he must be mad or at least disappointed in Roman for going off to fight for him. Roman prepared for the worst.

“Hey, everyone…” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “Patton… I’m so—“

Patton’s arms were around him before he could finish. The force of his hug could’ve knocked the wind out of a football player. He pulled back when he heard Roman groan. Patton’s hands gently probed over him as though he were made of fine china.

“Roman, thank goodness you’re alright! Are you hurt? Did Dio hurt you? Did they press any charges? I’m SO glad you’re not in jail anymore! Oh, what happened to your lip? And just look at your knuckles, they’re swollen!”

Roman blushed at being fussed over in such a way, but at least Patton wasn’t angry. “Patton, I’m alright, I promise. Just a couple of bruises and some scrapes here and there, nothing major. Logan took care of things with the police, so it’s all good padre. I promise.”

At this Patton finally relaxed a bit. Virgil and Thomas came over to him as well once Logan caught them up on everything that happened back at the station. They were clearly irritated at Roman but seemed just as relieved.

“That was a really stupid thing you did dude,” said Virgil.

“Roman, buddy, I know you’re all about the chivalry, but don’t go running off and getting into fights like that,” said Thomas.

“Not without us as backup at least,” said Virgil.

“Indeed,” said Logan.

“Okay?” asked Thomas.

Roman knew full well that neither of his friends were fighters in the slightest. Still, the gesture meant a lot to him. Looking at Logan, Virgil and Thomas standing around him, he felt incredibly grateful to know they’d always have his back; even when he was being an impulsive love struck idiot.

“I swear,” said Roman. “And listen, Patton, about…about Dio—“

“I don’t care about him. Not anymore,” said Patton. “I’m done with him. Officially and for good.”

There was a hard edge to his voice that Roman had never heard before. He looked to Virgil for confirmation if this was true and the artist gave him a nod, smiling at his stepbrother proudly. Although they weren’t good circumstances by any means, Roman couldn’t help but feel proud of Patton for standing up for himself like that. The sweet bartender was a lot stronger than he let on. Aaand Roman wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that he was incredibly happy that Patton was now free to court. Of course, all that could wait till much later. They had time. He could wait.

“Well then,” said Roman, “I’m proud of you Patton.”

“As am I,” said Logan, placing a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “I don’t know very much about the complexity of your relationship, but I think it’s a fair assessment that Dio was a raging douchbag.”

Virgil laughed. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. He was never good enough for my brother.”

“Heck yeah. You deserve way better Patton,” said Thomas. “We’re all proud of you.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of me too,” said Patton.

Roman caught a flicker of sadness in Patton’s eyes. He was about to ask if Patton was truly all right, but before he could Roman found his hands gently being cradled in the other mans. A blush crept up his face.

“I’m just glad that you’re safe,” said Patton, kissing his scraped knuckles. Roman winced, but he’d never felt happier. “Come on. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Patton gently dragged him by the hand to Logan’s office in the back. Roman would have followed that man anywhere he’d asked. The others didn’t follow and frankly he was glad of it. Roman wanted to talk with Patton in private.

Patton closed the door behind them and gently sat Roman down while he got out the first aid kit from their bosses/friend’s desk. Logan’s office much like his personality: clean, organized, and precise. Roman did however notice there were three framed photos on the desk next to a stack of documents. One was of a rather large family standing in front of a Christmas tree with Logan amongst them. Another was of Logan standing with a proud smile in front of a newly opened Sanders bar & grill, and the last one looked to be a candid photo (no doubt taken by Patton) of Logan with every one of the Sanders’ employees as they laughed at some statement or other. The photographer had even managed to capture the rare laugh from Logan frozen in time.

“Alrighty, now lets get you cleaned up,” said Patton as he took a seat across from Roman. He took out antiseptics and bandages from the kit. “This might sting a little.”

The swabs did sting a bit, but Roman sat patiently as he let Patton nurse his battle wounds with all the focus and tenderness of Florence Nightingale.

“So…it’s truly over between you and Dio now?” Roman tentatively asked.

“Yeah,” said Patton as he wrapped bandages around Romans knuckles. “I called him up after I found out about your guys’ fight and ended things.”

“Oh...” Roman gulped. “I’m sorry. I-I din’t mean to be the cause of—”

“Oh no, no, it wasn’t about you Ro!” Patton said quickly, placing a reassuring hand atop Roman’s. “It was about Dio. After he cheated and hurt you—hurt someone I cared about, well, that was the last straw.”

Roman’s shoulders relaxed. “Ah, then…good. So, how are you feeling?”

Patton paused for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Lighter. Like I can breathe again. Honestly, I hadn’t let myself realize how unhappy I started to feel towards the end of the relationship, how over it truly was, until tonight.”

Patton finished taking care of Roman. Then he put the first aid kit on the desk and scooted his chair closer to Roman before continuing.

“I think part of me suspected he’d been cheating, but I…just thought it’d be easier to…avoid all those nasty feelings, y’know? I hate to admit it, but I’m not sad about it being over…which makes me feel guilty because I’m the one that ended it and it-it was my first real relationship so i—so what does that say about me?”

Roman used the pad of his thumb to gently brush away the tear that streaked down Patton’ cheek. Hesitantly, he cradled it in his hands. To his pleasant surprise Patton actually leaned into the touch. The gesture choked Roman up a little.

“Patton, you have every right to feel however you feel…but if you think it means there’s something wrong with your heart, then you could not be farther from the truth.” said Roman, looking him in the eyes. “You have the strongest, most pure heart of anyone I’ve ever known. You deserve someone who recognizes that. Who treasures your heart and treats you like the most sublime creature in all of existence! And if someone isn’t doing that or isn’t meeting your heart’s needs, then you have every right to walk away without guilt. You deserve to be happy!”

Patton let out a sad laugh, but at least the silent tears ceased. Roman saw a sad smile creep up the other’s face.

“Thanks Roman. I don’t need all that wooing though. All I want is someone to be present with me, to spend time with. Someone who I can be playful with and share things with and we’d take care of each other. Someone who, maybe, finds me…desirable, somehow? Someone…”

Patton looked up at Roman with, perhaps, something akin to hope in his eyes. It made Roman blush, the intensity of that hopeful yet open look humbled the young man as he waited patiently for his secret love to finish.

“Someone who…loves me…as much as I love him. Do you…think there someone out there like that for me?”

Roman’s face was hot as a hearth now and he couldn’t stop the frantic flutter of his heartbeat. It’s not like he was new to the ways of love and he certainly had never been the shy type. Yet Patton’s words had submitted something within him and he couldn’t for the life of him find the right words or poetics to say to the man before him. So, he went with instinct.

“There is…”

Roman leaned in slowly. Patton seemed to have edged in as well, until finally Roman closed the distance between them. He felt Patton stiffen only for the slightest of seconds before melting into the kiss with equal measure. Perhaps it was his overactive imagination but Roman could’ve sworn he also heard a small whimper from the other. Patton’s lips were softer than Roman could have ever imagines, and there was a faint lingering flavor of chocolate sweetness there as well. No kiss had ever felt like this before, with so much underlying knowingness that this thing between them was right. It felt like a drop of honeyed milk on the tongue of his parched heart. Kissing Patton felt like coming Home.

I’m going to be by this man’s side for as long as he wants me, Roman vowed.

Sadly though, breathing was still a thing. Patton was the first to pull away. He touched his bottom lip with the tips of his fingers. A rosy blush colored his freckly face and he gaped at Roman, which made him panic.

“I—I’m sorry! I thought you—I should’ve asked your consent first—I—“

“Chai…”

“W-what?”

“Your lips, they…they taste like chai. Spiced and sweet and warm.” Patton smiled warmly at him. Roman melted. “I like it. I like you Roman. More thank like you, I…love you.”

“I love you too Patton,” Roman beamed. “So very much!”

A giddy laugh spilled from Patton’s lips and Roman just wanted to drink it in with his own mouth. They’d have all the time in the world for that though. Roman beamed at his beloved and they touched their foreheads together. Their silent reverence of each other was interrupted however by the sound of a slow clap coming from the door.

They both turned to find their friends peeking in through the office door. (Roman could have sworn they’d closed that) Thomas peeked in from the right beaming at them, Virgil leaned against the doorframe arms crossed and grinning cheekily, and right in the middle giving the slow applause was Logan; a satisfied smile upon his face as well. They really are a bunch of snoops, Roman thought slightly irked. Still, he couldn’t help smiling as well. He was just too gosh darn happy to care.

“How long have you all been there?” asked Patton.

“Long enough bro,” said Virgil.

“No way we were gonna miss this!” said Thomas. “Virgil, you owe me twenty bucks.”

“Damnit,” Virgil grumbled.

“Language, kiddo.” Patton said, eliciting a laugh form them all.

“How about you Logan. Do you have anything to say about this?” asked Roman.

“Well,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses, “it is certainly about time!”

Roman barked a laugh at that. Yet he knew now that it came from a place of caring. In less than 24 hours he’d been called form rehearsals, gotten in a fight, taken to jail, bailed out, and now here he was in the afterglow of his first—and hopefully not last—kiss with the love of his life surrounded by his dearest friends. In the back of an old hole-in-the-wall bar and grill no less! It was almost too much drama even for the actor. Yet when he felt Patton slide a hand into his and saw his beloved angel smiling back at him, he knew that it had all been worth it.

“Sure is specs,” Roman said, yet his eyes were all on Patton. “It sure it.”

The End

Last Author Note: I just want to say again that I am SO grateful to you all for sticking with this story!!! There has been so much crap going on in my life in the past month. Through all the emotional strife and drama with my family, the one thing that’s kept me sane is my writing and knowing that you all were here waiting for the ending of this fanfiction. Knowing that this story has actually make people laugh and smile made me want to keep doing what I love and that helped me through everything. So I want to thank each and every one of you for your patience, kind words and support. It means so much to me that you all enjoyed my writing, more so than you could know! Lots of Love to you all.

- Khadijah

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters@icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains@purpleshipper@patchworkofstars@axyzel @hissesssss@beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers@jynxlovesluck@thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah@accidental-sanders @moonstonefox12 @hissesssss@smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides@lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @beautifully-terribly@justisaisfine @ab-artist @helplesscreator

#Bar & Grill AU #Royality #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #Logan sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides fandom #ocs #deceit sanders #KDsWriting

164 notes · View notes

xadoheandterra · 6 years ago

Text

Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gilgamesh, Cid Sophiar Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Cor Leonis and Cid Sophiar the old guy duo, plot comes knocking, Noctis realizes some shit, introspective bullshit on the nature of Prophecy and being Chosen Summary: Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

The call came early in the morning from Cid to Cor. Out of the entire sudden party of six only Cor, Ignis, Gladio, and Gilgamesh where awake just yet. Ignis had only just stumbled out of the tent he shared with Noctis, hair sleep-messed and glasses half-askew for the motion. The King wouldn’t be awake for a few hours more, since the sun had barely risen over the eastern mountain ridge of the Ravatogh Trail, and Prompto seemed content to sleep in after the night they had the day previous.

Gilgamesh noticed the sound of the ringtone first, and he tilted his head Cor’s direction. The braid of his hair tumbled down his shoulder and mixed with the long, clasped bangs that framed the taller man’s face. The interest made Cor stiffen his spine even as the man asked, politely, “What unearthly sound is that?”

“Phone,” Cor said, voice tense because there were a scant few people who even had his number these days and would deign to call him. He dug the hone out of his Crownsguard fatigue’s while Ignis began to pull out food from the armiger to start on breakfast.

“Are omelets alright with everyone this morning?” Ignis called out to the camp as Cor finally got his phone out of his pocket. He stared at Cid’s number for the longest moment and let the phone ring, then shook his head.

“That’s fine, Ignis. I need to take this,” Cor said, stood, and walked off the edge of the Haven. He kept the party in his sights even as he tapped the answer call button and braced himself for Cid’s usual antics. “Leonis.”

“Well I’ll be damned, ya picked ‘er right up fer once. Was ‘fraid I’d need to give a second or third call,” Cid drawled along the line and Cor pursed his lips.

“Very funny,” Cor said.

“I guess hangin’ out with those boys is doin’ some sorta good fer ya, eh, Cor?”

Cor sighed and dragged a hand along his face. He turned from the camp for a moment and prayed for patience—and reminded himself that Cid was a dear friend even if he was almost forty years Cor’s senior.

“Old man,” Cor said tiredly, “why are you calling.”

“Who you callin’ old?” Cid harrumphed, then sighed a second later with a grunt that Cor presumed meant Cid had finally found a chair to settle into. A second later the faint groan of relief brought a smile to Cor’s face as Cid mumbled, “Ah, hells. I am old.”

“Admitting it? Will wonders never cease?” Cor teased lightly, and then shook his head and his face turned towards seriousness once more. “Although really, Cid. Why are you calling?”

Cor waited, half-turned to view the Haven once more. He watched as Prompto crawled out of the tent and scrubbed at his hair and his chin-fuzz with a wide yawn, and how Gilgamesh—who’d been staring and Cor really wished the other man wouldn’t; he was half-certain that Gilgamesh was going to stab him as time went on with how the man just looked at him—Gilgamesh immediately moved to grasp Prompto by the wrist. Cor might’ve found it odd how Prompto favored the well-worn travel clothing that they found him in compared to his Crownsguard fatigues if Cor didn’t realize that ten years instilled into Prompto some form of habit and figured for both Prompto and Gilgamesh the clothes were something of a comfort. Cor hadn’t missed the way that Prompto tugged them out of a very much red armiger compared to Noctis’ colder blue, or even Regis’ icy silver.

“It’s done, Cor,” Cid eventually spit out. “That EXTERNIS gal o’ yers delivered the tempered mythril yesterday and I jes got up an’ finished installin’ it inta place. Them boys are all good t’head on off an see that Oracle o’ theirs.”

Cor breathed out heavily and felt his shoulders relax just the slightest bit. Hopefully with the reminder that Lunafreya awaited them in Altissa, and the fact that the Royal Vessel was now operational meant the tenseness that each and every one of them were ignoring could be dealt away with for the more immediate problem. Honestly Cor felt thankful that the poor woman hadn’t gone and dragged Leviathan awake just yet, considering what a right mess to Altissa that would eventually be given the rumors Cor heard from the lips of Imperial’s and Hunters about the mess Titan made of Duscae and Cleigne.

Astrals, Cor thought disdainfully, were terrible weapons of mass destruction. They were worse when they were awake compared to when sleeping. Cor would never forget the day that Regis summoned Ramuh of all the deities from a dainty little crystal the bastard found back in their youth. It was one of Regis’ godsdamned adventures Cor was rather glad to not have been originally brought in on, if just the aftermath had nearly wasted a good chunk of Duscae for nearly ten years.

“We’re about six hours out of Caem,” Cor said eventually when Cid made an inquisitive ‘Cor?’ on the other end of the line. “Up in Ravatogh Trail.”

“What in tarnation are you boys doin’ all the way up there?” Cid demanded.

“Hunting,” Cor said dryly.

“Well finish up and get yer behinds down here, kid! I ain’t got all the time in the world to waste, ya know!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cor let the smile cross his lips. “We’ll head your way as soon as His Majesty wakes up.”

Cid harrumphed. “Damn spoiled brats. Sleepin’ in when there’s work t’be done.”

Cor hummed in agreement. He didn’t bother to remind Cid that the magic of the Crystal took a lot out of its Kings. Cid knew that well in hand already. Lamenting Regis’ desire to sleep in had been nothing more than teasing between them, Clarus, and Weskham back in the day rather than anything serious. It was the days where Regis slept too much or too little that brought to mind worry; Cor wondered if they boys felt the same about Noctis. Still that ended the conversation pretty neatly, so Cor hung up without further word. He’d probably get an earful from Cid when they reached Caem for hanging up like that, but Cor didn’t quite care.

They’d be on their way to Altissa by tomorrow, and Cor could go back to figuring out what sort of bullshit nonsense Niflheim was up. This back and forth in occupation, and the fact that the gates to Insomnia were still closed, did not bode well to Cor. He had his own work he needed to get to, and while he cared for the boys he couldn’t stay with them. He wanted to—Six knows Cor wanted to stay with them and make sure they paid attention to the world around them instead of whatever nonsense they’d been doing before he’d been pulled into their messes—but they wouldn’t learn if he hovered. They needed to learn. They needed to be their own men.

Cor would only drag them down with his memories.

Noctis woke up to an empty tent, something he found himself steadily grown used to over the past several days. It still bothered him, like an itch that he couldn’t quite reach at the small of his back. For a moment he lay there and stared up at the ceiling of the tent in silence. He felt empty; a whole ripped through his chest filled with nothing reminded him of the days after he woke up to know Prompto was gone. Then Noctis breathed and closed his eyes—he felt for the bond to his retainers—

I offer my life into service—

—to guard and protect from all threats both within and out—

—as the blade to pierce through the darkness—

—never to be alone, forgotten, or without a companion in the moments where his steps may falter—

—for my King of Light, forevermore.

Noctis relaxed slightly at the feel of it—of his Hand, and his Shield, and of Prompto whose Oaths were so unorthodox that they didn’t have a title with them. He could feel where the pieces of themselves twined in with the pieces of himself—or the pieces that he could touch and use, as jagged and broken that they were. Ignis, Gladio and Prompto gave him something as much as he gave them something. Noctis shared with them his Light, the magic that family history claimed to come from the Crystal. They shared in return with him the stabilizing presence of their very lives.

“Okay,” Noctis breathed out and pushed himself up. He clenched a fist over his chest and sucked in a breath, only to release it a second later with another reminded, “Okay.” Fortified Noctis rubbed the sleep from his eyes and shifted onto his hands and knees so that he could craw out of the sleeping bag. It took a little focus, more than it would when the rest of his mind started to function beyond the haze of waking up and waking up alone, but Noctis eventually got the sleeping bag back into the armiger and his change of clothes out of it.

The young King spent fifteen minutes working through his clothes, half seated and half crawling in and out of each piece before he folded the articles of dirty clothing—something he did on rare occasion—and focused on the space in the armiger that held the laundry they hadn’t gotten around to yet. Sometimes Noctis couldn’t be certain if the clothes ever made it to the right part of the space of his magic, so tired like this, but this morning he wasn’t as dazed as he could be, so Noctis felt reasonably assured that the clothes made it to where he wanted and not, accidentally, at the top of Ravatogh.

Noctis sniffed at his Crownsguard fatigue jacket as he crawled his way out of the tent and made a slight face at the smell that wafted off of it—perhaps they needed to make a stop to the nearest laundromat, he thought with his nose scrunched up as he made his way into the brightness of the sun. It took half-a-second before the sudden blindness associated with light washed away and Noctis was able to drag himself to his feet.

“Morning,” Noctis mumbled, and accepted the fresh plate of breakfast from Ignis. He took a bite without even really looking, then paused to stare down at the plate almost uncomprehendingly when he realized it was eggs with a large whopping of bits of meat cooked into it. Noctis dug his fork around the omelet for a second and raised his eyebrows when he saw no squirreled away vegetables in the meat.

“Is something wrong?” Ignis questioned, lips tugged into a frown, and Noctis jerked his head up and around.

“What? No,” Noctis shook his head and stuffed another forkful of the omelet into his mouth. Zu eggs that they gathered out of the nest about two weeks back when they went and visited the Royal Tomb rumored to be nestled in the volcano itself, Noctis realized. They had a different sort of texture when cooked compared to most of the domesticated eggs that one could get at the marketplace. He knocked around the meat a bit more before he realized it was Spiracorn and not Garula. “Foods good, Specs.”

Ignis smiled, relieved, and Noctis flopped himself down into one of the camper chairs to finish eating. It wasn’t a lie, even—the food was good. The initial surprise had been from the fact that Ignis hadn’t bothered to sneak in any veggies. Noctis had grown used to taking that first bite in the mornings, only to taste something unholy followed by the need to dig out all of the pesky things from an otherwise succulent meal. Prompto would steal them off of his plate—the heathen loved vegetables for some reason—but instead there’d been nothing. Noctis tried to remember the last time he had a bite of food in the breakfast with the taste of some vegetable and found himself unable to recall.

With a mouthful of food Noctis glanced over to where Ignis had begun clean up of the cooking supplies with a hum. Had Ignis stopped sneaking vegetables in Noctis food out of some sort of regret? The man knew Noctis gave them all to Prompto, anyway. His disgust and distaste for the food was legendary and it took work for the royal kitchens to find ways to accommodate Noctis. The thought and care implied in the fact that Ignis had done away with vegetables in Noctis’ food was something he hadn’t even thought about until now.

Once the plate was cleared Noctis moved to wash it, only for Ignis to take it from him without a word and begin to clean. It gave Noctis further pause, surprised at Ignis’ nonchalance and it struck something within Noctis that left him heavy hearted. He looked over to Gladio who sipped at some water with a book in hand, then to Prompto who looked right at him with an unreadable expression. His wrist was grasped yet again in Gilgamesh’s only hand, and Noctis wanted to frown at it—but he’d seen the man wake up in the middle of the night with a sharp breath and twist around until he could grasp at Prompto’s wrist and found himself unable to.

It reminded Noctis of how he’d wake and seek out the feel of Prompto at his heart; how Noctis found comfort in the Oaths Promised that made ties to each of his retinue. He couldn’t be jealous when this ancient man didn’t have that comfort like Noctis. It made the young monarch wonder how other people sought comfort in those closest to them when they couldn’t feel the very souls bound to theirs. After a second Noctis turned away and looked over to Cor who stood off to the side with his head bowed low, and decided that if Ignis wanted to clean and Gladio wanted to read, then Noctis would bother the Immortal instead.

“Silver for your thoughts?” Noctis asked, and when Cor made a confused sort of sound in the back of his throat Noctis’ lips curled into a slight smile.

“I thought the phrase was gil for your thoughts?” Cor asked and Noctis shrugged.

“Maybe?” Noctis said and turned his gaze toward the sky. “Although I always thought it was crowns.” He looked over at Cor, curious. “Is it a currency thing, then?”

“Ah, yeah,” Cor blinked. “Is there anything you need, your highness?”

Noctis said a blunt, “You looked lonely,” to which Cor snorted and then shook his head.

“Of course.” For a moment the Immortal said nothing more, then stretched and looked over the camp with a critical eye. “Cid called this morning.” Noctis stilled, the breath stolen from his lungs. He knew what Cid calling meant. Aranea gave them a huge chunk of mythril before they left Lestallum to meet Prompto. Cor made sure the metal got delivered to EXTERNIS for processing, but if Cid called then it was probably already installed.

“I see,” Noctis said after a moment, head ducked down. The Royal Vessel—with it ready they could head to Altissa. Noctis would see Luna again, for the first time in twelve years. He knew she planned to summon Leviathan; he understood that she sought to forge the Covenants for him now, something he hadn’t truly understood until after the blessing of Ramuh completed itself in Fociaugh Hollow.

For weeks after Fociaugh Hollow Noctis wondered why Luna decided that they needed the Covenants with the Astrals. She knew just as well as he did that to wake them one after another like this was dangerous. Noctis anticipated the need to gain that Astrals blessings—he knew about the Prophecy in the loosest sense, and knew that as the foretold King of Light he’d need the Astrals to defeat the darkness, but he didn’t understand why now. He’d originally thought the darkness maybe meant Nifflheim after they attacked and stole the Crystal from Insomnia. Perhaps that was what Noctis had been meant to defeat—Insomnia’s ancient enemy.

Except Noctis knew he wouldn’t need all of the Six for something so paltry as a fight with another nation. Only Titan or Ramuh could lay waste to the entirety of the MT units Nifflheim could throw at them if needed. Then Prompto vanished and came back with talk about the Scourge and daemons and that these were a disease—that people called it the darkness when they didn’t call it the Scourge—and there was a Healer King tasked to end it. A Healer King still alive today and working with the very people who stole his Crystal and killed his Father, even, who was related to Noctis with some two-thousand year difference. What then did that make Noctis in the grand scheme of things? The second choice of the Six to fix what had been broken about the world?

No one really knew where the Scourge came from these days, or that it was even a thing beyond that at night daemons roamed the world and would kill you. They knew the Haven’s kept people safe, that lights kept the daemons out, but what else did they know about the fiends of the dark, really? Certainly, Noctis hadn’t known they were people, sick and malformed people, but they’d been people once and possibly could be again someday.

Ardyn failed to stop it, the Scourge; he grew sick with it instead. How could Noctis finish it then? Noctis whose magic was so terribly broken and mostly out of reach—who lacked the soul-weary Ring of the Lucii that his forefathers used to channel the Crystal’s blistering Light. All Noctis had were the Covenants, and even then Luna forged them so fast and so quickly that Noctis worried they’d even be able to get the remaining three after Leviathan without consequence.

“Your Majesty?” Cor asked, and Noctis blinked out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Noctis mumbled and gave Cor a hesitant smile. “Just…surprised.” Cor nodded and Noctis carefully relaxed himself from his tense thoughts. “Can you do something for me, Cor?”

“What do you need?” Cor asked, face serious.

“Find Ardyn for me,” Noctis said, words soft but with the bit of steel behind them that he rarely used. He looked over to Cor and watched the way the other man looked at him back, the way his brow twitched and his eyes narrowed. “I need to have a discussion with the Chancellor.” Noctis waited until Cor nodded before he smiled his thanks. “I’ll go let the others know to pack up then.”

#fanfic #final fantasy xv #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #cor leonis #cid sophiar #prompto argentum #gilgamesh ffxv #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #fic: the path untrodden #fic: the burning of solheim

5 notes · View notes

koganphrancis · 7 years ago

Photo

WE ARE FINALLY, TRULY CAMLESS!

Season 9 Episode 6 Recap

First and foremost, I want to single out Noel Fisher for being a truly class act and returning to this demon show to give fans what happiness he could-the ONLY happiness a lot of fans have found here, myself included, in a very long time.

Next a serious piece of appreciation to Cameron Monaghan. I know he worked hard on what little they gave him to do in the past few years, and I’m thankful he had Gotham to work on to actually use his talent while mired down in the stinky swamp this show has become. In another actor’s hands, I don’t know that Gallavich would’ve been as captivating as it was-without Noel I know it wouldn’t have been, but Cam does deserve credit for bringing the other half of the couple to life-when they were on screen together, they had an undeniable magic happening.

Finally to any of the “fans” that are thinking or posting that we got this actually pretty shitty prison endgame because people pestered the show producers, writers, and actors too much to “bring Mickey back” may I please direct you to watch the early episode (I believe it was in Season 1, but certainly no later than S2) where Lip tells Ian prison must be a gay man’s dream with all the tattoos and unlimited sex partners. THAT is John Wells’ perception of gay men and it has been since long before he even thought of breaking Ian and Mickey up, let alone bringing Mickey back.

Personally I’m supremely disappointed this gay couple, like so many others, did not get a free and truly happy ending in canon, even though my friends know I predicted this could very well be all we got in the end. FFS it’s the year twenty gayteen-couldn’t ONE iconic gay couple be given a nice, normal happy ending? John Wells is a fucking dinosaur. He needs to go to a sensitivity training camp run by Dan Levy, Emily Andras, and Ryan Murphy.

Anyway-my last recap (baring a miracle) of this shit show is under the cut

(screen cap credit: justmikhailothings)

This episode was brought to us by White Castle. I’d like to think they gave every dime they got from them to pay Noel, but I’m sure it went to the other “big name” guest stars.

Also the show was (disappointingly) written by Nancy “Ratfucker” Pimental, so you know it’s gonna be bad.

The show begins with Ian putting his stuff away up in the attic and claiming he wants to eat a shitload of White Castle. Sure, whatever. Everyone is trying to offer ideas of what they should all do on his last day of freedom, but suddenly THIS Ian is talking and making decisions for himself. WHERE HAS HE BEEN THE PAST 4 SEASONS? He only appears when Mickey’s about...

Debbie offers to bring him to a gay bar to “get laid” (flashing back to Monica in S3, ugh-it was a bad idea then, it’s a bad idea now), Ian says, “Pretty sure I’ll get laid a lot in prison.” He says it with a grim expression, but considering how they end the show/who his cellmate is, he should be so lucky.

Frank pretty much ignores Ian in the scene, and they certainly don’t interact. Frank recommends Ian should read James Joyce’s Ulysses in prison, but other than the fact that it’s by an Irish writer and it’s extremely long and dense to get through (aka it’ll take Ian some time to do it), I don’t know if there’s any significance to his suggesting it.

This scene with just a throwaway send off from Macy seems to be in line with John Wells’ vision to have the series fade away with the characters going about their daily lives rather than end, but I really think both Cam and WHM were screwed out of not having a final scene together with just the two of them. Their comedy timing was always the best out of Macy and all the Gallagher kids. The lack of respect is just astounding-especially since the show wasted so much time on rando actors/characters we’re never going to see again.

The rest of Frank’s story this week takes place with Liam in tow again and it’s just dumb and boring.

The next scene shows Fiona and Bored looking at an apartment-they’re going to move in together (why? And when was this decided? Not that I care, but they could’ve cut a scene of them bickering to show a scene where they arrived at a decision together for once). It makes absolutely no sense-they have Fiona’s whole place to themselves, why waste $3000 a month living in some other apartment all to themselves? Just because it has two bathrooms? Do they shit that much?

And then, ooh, bad news for Fiona-her business partners require her to kick in another 25 grand or their investment will be dead in the water. I still don’t know how she went from having $50K to invest to $100K, so this new twist is just more bullshit that I can’t care about.

Then there’s a scene where we have to see Carl’s new girlfriend’s head in Ian’s lap. WTF. We need to see Mickey’s head there-or better yet, Ian using Mickey’s perfect thighs as a pillow.

There’s a couple of boring, unfunny bits of the nun and then the priest (is it supposed to be hilarious that the dad from Full House is spewing out sex scenario names Nancy must’ve googled?) from Kev and Vee’s kids’ preschool with a dildo. Seriously, Nance, not even close to funny, probably time to put yourself out to pasture, old girl. This show has used dildos as a sight gag so many times at this point there’s just nothing more to do with them except maybe shove them up the writers’ asses.

Lip’s storyline this week is something out of very, very bad fan fiction: A movie star comes to their house! Cuz, that happens, okay? I’m sure studios and billion dollar make up companies don’t run any kind of background check on people they hire to babysit their clients-why would they? It’s not like a crazed fan would rape/maim/kill the object of their obsession or anything. ANYONE can be a star minder for one day, surely.

BORING ALERT: Lip has a couple more running scenes this week, because no one got enough of that last episode. This week the least they could’ve done was play the Friends theme song over the endless footage where he’s chasing Courtney Cox around on location in Chicago.

While watching, I was wondering if Courtney’s role was written for her or they just settled for her when Roseanne Barr was suddenly unavailable-the stuff they had her say and do (except for the sprinting) seemed like it was written for a more jaded motherly type-but I’m jumping ahead. Since we DID get CC, here’s a couple of stray observations. 1. She looks like a rich man’s Emmy Rossum, and 2. was part of the purpose of her storyline to throw shade at Jennifer Aniston? Her character is named Jen Wagner, and there’s this whole dumb thing where Nancy’s trying to make, “Face it, you’re gorgeous” happen as her make up commercials’ tag line-which was reminiscent of Aniston’s ads for L’Oreal that stated “I’m/you’re worth it”.

Meanwhile, after Fi gets the devastating news that she needs to come up with more money she tries to get out of taking the new apartment with Bored by lying to him and telling him she smelled mold there-HE RESTORES OLD HOUSES/BUILDINGS FOR A LIVING why does Nancy think that was a clever lie for Fiona to come up with? How stupid is Fi supposed to be?

Back at the Gallaghers, Ian is practicing self defense moves with Carl and Kelly to prevent someone from raping him at knife point. Everyone’s flipping each other in these scenes and it just felt like they wanted to give their stunt coordinator (and Cam’s double) a lot of (boring) shit to do this week...Ian’s final scenes being played out with this meaningless newbie (who Carl will probably wind up killing or dumping or both) made me very sad. I guess maybe it was to build dramatic tension for when Ian’s in his cell later and the door slides open before he turns around. But it’s lame because the scenes play like he’s JUST realizing prison’s rapey.

Someone knocks at the door-my heart started racing but it wasn’t Mickey. A guy who wasn’t in the jail scenes tells Ian Joselito sent him. Ian starts asking him about the guys he was in county lock up with-WHO CARES. The guy tells him the couple he’s asking about broke up when one of them got out and Nancy throws in a line about long distance relationships not working. Joselito sent this Antonio guy to give Ian an “in-depth safety orientation about Beckman Correctional” before they send him up.

Antonio draws Ian a map of the facility and tells him the areas to avoid, then draws a big circle with Mickey Mouse ears on it and tells him that’s “Disneyland” and he can get all good things there-smooth blowies, weed, Snickers...I’m sure ol’ Nancy thought she was being clever, but it just took me out of the scene hearing Antonio say “Disney” at least three times-reminded me of Cam’s publicity stunt “coming out date” there last year.

Fi comes in and asks if anyone has any money (shades of S4 when Ian gave her his Fairy Tail tips) and that she needs 25 grand. She’s so stupid. And she’s honestly that out of touch with the family that she thinks maybe one of them has thousands of dollars they could give her? (although, if she had only gotten to Lip before he tried to buy Xan...)

Fiona tells Ian, “Don’t forget, I’m driving you to prison tomorrow.” And that’s the last time they see each other. So much for family, eh, Nance?

A huge time waster of a scene where Kev and Vee pack up all their sex toys and then another drawn out scene of them throwing the stuff off a bridge happen. Seriously, these are Cameron’s final moments on this shit show-they couldn’t think of anything for him to do? This was all screen time Cam and Noel could have had, SHOULD have had!

I have to recap this next bit because it was beyond belief unrealistic-Frank steals a bicycle and goes following Katey Sagal and her ex-husband when they leave the hospital in an Audi-and Frank manages to keep up with them all the way to their nice neighborhood that must be some distance away since it was daylight when they left and dark when they get to their door. Frank. On a bicycle. Kept up. YOU’RE SUCH A DUMB FUCK, NANCY.

Then there’s more White Castle with the money shot of the food and packaging all over the Gallagher kitchen table. Courtney gets to make a bulimia joke Nancy wrote into the scene. Hope you weren’t looking for a Guest Starring Emmy, CC.

Ian tells a “Carl story” about him puncturing his scrotum (on purpose) with a screwdriver when he was a kid. Carl must have the most mangled dick and scrotum on the planet between his several botched circumcisions and now this. Kelly asks him if that’s why he has “that scar”. You know what, Nance? While some people do in fact find scars sexy, self inflicted ones on scrotums don’t make that list.

Debbie comes in, recognizes “the chick from the make up ads” having dinner with them. I’m sorry-having WHITE CASTLE with them. Now everyone else sees it too, and Kelly insists that CC says “the” line that Nancy made up to make happen-why do they keep trying to make meaningless things A Thing?

After dinner, Jen is giving Ian advice about prison: “Find a hobby, it makes time go so much faster.” Ian asks, “Did you learn that from one of your movies?” and she says she did 48 hours for DUI (hey, just like Ethan, Nancy!). Jen really needed to get into making TP paper mache to get through 2 days?

Debbie, desperate to make shit about her says, “Maybe I should go to prison too. It seems like the only way I’ll find a real relationship.” WHY are they acting like Ian’s going away on a single’s cruise?

Jen says to Debs that’s not true and Debbie says it is, that she’s unlucky in love (when the fuck has she ever been “in love”?)...”men, women...”

Jen tells her she’s a special woman (how the fuck does she know?) and that she doesn’t want just anyone, she wants somebody “who gets you” and then for the second time in two weeks an older woman, without determining if Debbie is of age, pulls her into a kiss and the others (Ian, Lip, Carl, Kelly) stare like, “WTF?” The kiss ends and Debbie looks all amazed like she did after the Mel kiss, but then Jen looks at everyone and says, “I played a lesbian once in a movie.” And that’s what your research into that role led you to believe lesbians do? Kiss random teens when they’re whining? Lip starts the “Face it” line and everyone else chips in with “you’re gorgeous” and everyone laughs and I don’t get why it’s funny or even why it’s supposed to be funny. Seemed like they were trying to drive home the point that ACTORS only PLAY gay characters, but no matter how convincing they seem, they are in reality the much more “preferable” heterosexuals we can feel safe with and really want them to be. Fuck you, Shameless.

Also, Courtney/Jen is three times older than Debbie-CC is 54 irl and Debs is forever 17 now, so more Kash vibes for anyone who was missing those. Also perpetuates the writer room’s fantasy that hot young actors would find middle and past middle age folks suitable sex partners.

Fi goes to Patsy’s Pies and there’s another hysterically lame scene where she opens the office safe and is counting out money-I don’t know how much a place like Patsy’s rakes in (or keeps in their safe) but I would think it would take a long time to accumulate 25K in CASH in this day and age of debit and credit cards. She abandons that bad idea and winds up going down to the docks and drinking with a Patsy’s employee and reciting all her “mo money” problems while he counters with the facts that his car’s been repossessed and that he and his moms are being evicted from the projects. Then the guy kisses drunk Fi but she tells him she has a boyfriend and that she has to apologize for lying to him (although, really, the underlying implication is she has to apologizing for never seeing that he’s always right about her being a dumb woman who has no head for business decisions).

Lip and Ian have their last one on one scene. After the movie star mom for a day leaves, Ian’s fake smoking on the front steps and Lip joins him. Lip gives him money for his commissary account and Ian says, “I’ll pay you back,” (but not thank you) and Lip says, “No you won’t,” and I’m at home saying, “Lip, why are you being such a dick?” Ian goes to hand him the lit cigarette, but pulls it away when Lip reaches for it, but then gives it to him and rubs his shoulder. I guess this is supposed to signal to us that they’ve said everything that’s needed to be said? Except we’ve been watching and we know Lip is supposed to be a mouthy motherfucker and in the old days they would’ve had actual conversations that they DID NOT have at all-all their conversations this season have been short and awkward. Ian’s been made into a fucking mute now, even in these final moments.

Their last scene should’ve been in their room, in their beds-Ian can’t sleep and they talk things out in the dark like the brothers they used to be, but no. Can’t have that.

The Fiona drama finding out Bored has a wife, kid, and house and then drunkenly smashing up her leased vehicle is so “bad soap opera” I can’t believe this show is still on the air. If we were supposed to cry for Fiona as her make up and fake blood ran down her face after her millionth time of being let down by a guy everyone else could see was an ass from the start-well, we just didn’t.

Next day the Gallaghers are waiting in the living room for Fiona to take Ian to prison. Kev steps up to drive them all in his truck.

They get there, get out, and Ian looks around, then says to his family, “All right. I thought Geneva and some of the others would be here but...” Thank christ they weren’t!!! The show/Ian wasted too much time on those randos as it was. However, credit where credit is due-the show got us all the way through this swan song arc without bringing up Terror once! But I digress, back to our scene. Carl says, “You can only count on family, dude.” I scream BULLSHIT at my TV screen.

Debbie says, “I’m gonna miss you.”

Group hug. Kev says, “Don’t get too raped in there, aight?” Everybody breaks apart, the moment ruined. Kev says he doesn’t know what to say in these situations (and clearly no one can improvise but Noel). Vee says, “How about goodbye and I love you?”

Kev says, “Goodbye, man. I love you.”

Ian says, “I love you guys too.” Wasting it on the wrong fucking people! All of them-except Kev and Vee who never voiced an opinion-didn’t care if went to prison!

Ian looks at Lip, walks over to him. “Hey, uh, thanks for being my brother.”

Lip, still a dick, says, “Never had a choice.” That’s right, bitch-you didn’t get to choose to play the interesting gay brother, you got cast as the dick know-it-all who never cared about anyone but himself.

During this entire farewell scene I was sitting at home, strangely unmoved. I felt nothing watching it, probably because everyone was such an asshole about Ian going to prison all season, plus never caring about what he was doing all last season, plus the fact that none of these characters are the characters we first got to know. It hasn’t been a case of character growth and development, it’s been character assassination and retconning.

Ian breaks the hug. “All right. See you guys.” He goes to the gate, shows his papers, gets let in through the gate, waves to his family as he walks past the fence, walks into the prison, slaps his phone (wouldn’t he just give that to Lip to hold on to? Battery’s gonna be dead by the time he gets out) and watch (probably ditto on the watch battery) onto a counter, strips down so we see one last quick shot of his naked ass (what, no cavity search? And just how long has it been since we’ve seen his unclothed ass anyway?), and a glimpse of the boob tattoo.

Next we see him in his yellow “I Love You, Philip Morris” jumpsuit, carrying his bedding through the GP. He’s attracting “fresh meat” attention and Cam actually does a really good job of looking a bit scared while trying to look tough and “don’t fuck with me”-there’s a vulnerability there, but he’s not overplaying it, and he’s certainly not overplaying the fronting. His acting was really powerful in that scene.

They put him in his cell and slam the door and he winces a little at the sound, then he sadly looks at his 6X8 foot (or whatever the dimensions are) room, puts his bedding pile on the top bunk and leaves his hands up there and lets his head hang down. He hears the door slide open behind him again and gets this, “Ugh, here we go,” expression on his face and turns around to see it’s Mickey standing there.

Me at home: Not what I wanted for end game but I’m still thrilled to see the man, the myth, the legend again anyway. He’s all beefy still from when he was shooting Fonzo and looking good.

Ian’s looking at him like he’s not sure he’s really there.

Mickey mildly says, “I rolled on the cartel I was working for and in exchange guess who gets to pick where he gets locked up?”

Ian’s got tears in his eyes now and says, “Holy fuck.”

“Oh hey-I got bottom,” Mickey says as he points to the lower bunk. Then he walks past Ian and says, “So...you’re on top,” in a bit of a sing-songy voice.

He flops down onto the bunk, puts his hand behind his head-and check out the gifs closely, especially on Twitter-in the jumpsuit you can see the outline of his dick and it “twitches in interest” as the fan fics say (don’t know if Noel did it by adjusting his thigh, don’t know if it was intentional or what-but it was a sight to see whatever the case). He does a lip lick/bite combination, Ian’s face lights up a bit and he gives a smile, he crawls onto the bunk on top of Mickey, pinning his hand down while Mickey smiles softly, they gaze at each other a beat, Ian gently strokes Mickey’s cheek, Mickey wraps his free hand behind Ian’s neck, their noses boop, and Ian sort of gently thrusts into a kiss (it was good-definitely had a bit of a sexual vibe to it), which Mickey expertly returns. It was a very good kiss, tender and loving, but that scene needed words, needed Ian to say SOMETHING to Mickey-needed an “I’m sorry” and a “thank you for always being here for me” and exchanged I love yous. Neither of these boys are ever told they’re loved! JFC, nine seasons and the show couldn’t manage to work mutual ILYs in ONCE? Fuck you, Shameless. They didn’t even say each other’s NAMES!

Mickey (and Noel) looked so fucking good lying there-relaxed and happy, finally back with his love where he’s always belonged. Even when his eyes are closed, they’re perfect. The angle the scene was shot at, we see more of Mickey’s microexpressions than Ian’s.

An after the credits began scene of them lying in an afterglow embrace would’ve been nice. Mickey could’ve mocked Ian’s hair (give us one last “Fire Crotch” you cowards!) and boob tattoo (or offered to fix that for him while they’re in the joint).

Mickey’s got new ink on his forearm we never see clearly. Until and unless we’re told otherwise, I’m saying it’s a big ginger root ;) Bam.

On a personal note, and not to rain on anybody’s parade, while I believe 100% in Drunk Crew Guy and what he said, I really don’t see us getting another scene in the finale. This show’s attention span is down to nothing now, and I can’t see them dragging these guys back out now that they’ve given us (shitty) endgame. I don’t think enough time will have passed to let them out of prison by then, I think those final episodes are going to be about Fiona leaving and not Ian and Mickey getting to Mexico-and I can’t really see Mickey being able to go back there now that he’s crossed a cartel. My feeling is the show filmed 2 possible endings using Noel to choose from-one ending with them in Mexico and the other being the one we got. They probably ripped off The Shawshank Redemption too much with a Mexico ending and decided to go with this “original” idea instead. I’d love nothing more than to be wrong, and to get one more scene of these two free and happy. Cam’s question mark at the end of his farewell post and the fact that I do trust everything DCG said leaves a spark of hope burning in my heart, but hopefully I can back away from endless online speculation and theories about it over the next 5 months. If it happens, beautiful. If it doesn’t, at least we got one last look at Mickey and he’s getting dicked down and the love he’s always deserved, even if I hate the fact they’re locked up and will be in danger whenever they’re not in their cell-not to mention this is the shitty way gay love stories get handled in general, but I must not go down that path again in this recap.

I want to add that Mickey didn’t sound all that “Mickey” in his scene, but maybe he didn’t need his swagger and was being more “real” to let Ian know he had a choice (as always, Mickey didn’t force himself on Ian-he let him come to him). And kudos to Cam for not doing his hideous Chicago accent for most of the episode.

There WAS love and chemistry in that final scene. Just sucks that we don’t get it anywhere else in the show and they wasted so much time last night that could’ve been given to Cameron and Noel.

But hey, I’m finally free of recapping ;) While I’m sorry the Gallavich parts are now over, I’m not sorry I can finally quit missing what we used to get while watching what the show now does. Mickey and Ian are back together now, so, fuck you, Shameless.

#Recap #Ian's final episode #Season Nein #Nobody wants it #Queue #Hopefully I'll be sound asleep when the episode ends

35 notes · View notes