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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

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The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Week 4

Summary: It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 9.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @moon-stars-soul, @danadeacon, @deacyblues, @thesundrop, @cupidben, @lostlittlenerd, @delilahmay39, @timmvrphy, @queenmylovely, @loveandbeloved29, @free-pool-trash, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @local-troubled-writer, @babyalienfairy, @littlecarowrites, @allthethingsicant, @im-an-adult-ish, @mirkwoodshewolf, @squishy-gay-astronaut, @sherlollydramoine, @butlegendsneverdie, @dogmom2014 If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Alright, we are halfway through the season! The drama continues this week on The Bachelorette!

Warning(s): None

Night 1 Week 1 Week 2 Week 3

Week 4 here we go!!!

London was beautiful. You had never been before, so you were eager to explore somewhere new. Plus, you knew several of the guys would be familiar with it. This was an opportunity to see their world. And that was exactly what you planned to do.

The men settled into their hotel suite. It was a large, airy place, with a wide balcony overlooking the city. Then men all gathered on the balcony to take in the view.

“I’ve never seen Big Ben before,” said Mike. “Except in pictures.”

“What are you talking about?” Joe teased. “He’s right here.”

He pointed to Ben, who laughed. “That’s a much bigger Ben than I am.”

Joe then wrapped his arms around Ben in a bear hug. “Well, we’ve got the best Ben.”

“That, we do,” agreed Gwilym, who reached out and pinched Ben’s cheek.

Ben laughed more and flushed. Then all the guys gathered in a group hug.

Of course, Luke was not with them. He was inside, journaling by himself. After everything that happened, he avoided the other men, and they avoided him right back. So, he missed out on the bond that had formed between the rest of them. Despite all competing for the same woman, they had become solid friends.

When there was a knock on the door for the date card, Mike went to go get it. Everyone watched the hallway anxiously. Then, they all heard him release a delighted cry. They exchanged confused looks. Mike returned without a date card, but with something much better. You.

They all cheered when they saw you and engulfed you in a warm group hug. Then they all settled back onto the couches so you could catch your breath.

“Welcome to London, guys,” you said, scanning their faces. “I’m really, really happy with the group that’s still here, and I hope that we can just continue this crazy journey all together.”

“How are you enjoying it?” Taron asked.

“Well, I haven’t gotten to see much, but so far, I love London,” you said. “In fact, I came here today for someone to explore it with me.”

They all watched you, hoping you would say their own names.

“Gwilym,” you said, finding his eyes. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I’d be honored,” he replied, getting to his feet.

You smiled and followed suit, holding out your hand to him. You could see the disappointment on some of the other men’s faces, but you were relieved that they also seemed genuinely happy for Gwilym. Maybe you really could leave all the drama behind.

You and Gwilym waved goodbye and headed out the door. You went out on the streets of London hand in hand.

“I’m gonna let you take the lead here,” you told him. “You live here, right?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “I’m not originally from London, but I live here now.”

“Well, show me around, stud!” you urged.

He laughed again and you were off. Gwilym walked you around almost everywhere that was nearby. He was knowledgeable about the history of everything too. That was one of the most attractive things about Gwilym to you. He was so well-read and intelligent. But it never came off as condescending. He was still incredibly kind and humble as well.

You stopped inside a pub to eat and grab a drink after all the walking. You ordered fish and chips because that’s what you’d always heard in the movies. Gwilym laughed beside you and kissed you on the cheek.

You each had a beer as you waited for the food.

“So,” you said as you sipped. “How are you since we last talked?”

“Very well,” he answered. “I’m excited to be getting to know you better and see where we go from here.”

“I’m excited too,” you said. “Every time I think about our connection, I always feel hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” you said. “Since you told me your story, I feel like you’re the most hopeful person in the world. What you went through was...unbelievably sad. And yet, you’re still here, looking for love, pursuing it wholeheartedly. It makes me hopeful too.”

He smiled sadly at the glass in front of him.

“I’m flattered by your admiration,” he said. “Losing her - especially the way I did - was the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through. We actually moved to London together from our little town, so coming here with you really is like a fresh start. It’s making me feel like I’m re-discovering it.”

“Is that a good feeling or a bad one?” you asked.

“It’s bittersweet,” he said. “I feel like sometimes, I still miss her so much, and it still hurts like an open wound. And other times I feel like I’m fine.”

“That’s sort of how grief works,” you told him. “Moving on from something like that isn’t a linear projection until you’re over it. You have setbacks. You’re still allowed to be sad and confused sometimes.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is...despite all of what happened and all the hurt, you have made me hopeful. What I’m feeling for you is something so good that I fully believe that love can happen for me again.”

A smile spread slowly across your face as he spoke. You leaned over and kissed him sweetly, conveying your absolute adoration of that sentiment. Gwilym was so deserving of love, and you wanted to show him that.

Your food came, and you split the plate between you. It tasted amazing, and as you ate the fries, an idea came to you.

“How good is your eye-mouth coordination?” you asked.

He blinked. “My what?”

You giggled. “Like, if I toss you some fries, can you catch them in your mouth?”

“Depends on how well you throw them,” he retorted. “The real question should be how good is your aim?”

“Oh?” you returned, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Yes,” he said. “And since we are in the UK, they’re chips. Not fries.”

You snatched one off the plate and tossed it at him, hitting him square in the nose.

“Looks like my aim is pretty good there, chief,” you teased.

You threw another, and this time he caught it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

“Okay, we make a pretty good team,” he said through a laugh.

You threw a few more to him, and he caught most. However, when he threw them to you, your catching abilities were abysmal. You blamed it on Gwilym’s arm, and he let you.

It felt really good to sit and laugh with him. You felt like many of your conversations with Gwil were so serious. So to be lighthearted and goof around with him showed you another side of him. A side you were glad existed.

After lunch, you continued to walk around a bit. Then Gwilym stopped at an intersection, tugging your hand to stop you from crossing the street. You shot him a quizzical look.

“Gwil?”

“If we turn right here,” he said. “We can get to my flat in five minutes. I’m not presuming anything by asking this, but would you like to come over and see it?”

You looked down so he wouldn’t see the deep blush creeping up in your cheeks. On any other date, this would have implied sex, but you two were on camera, being followed by a whole crew. You weren’t embarrassed by that. You were embarrassed that you were disappointed they were there. You were really attracted to Gwilym, and would not have turned down that invitation outside of this.

Actually, you weren’t going to turn it down either way.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Great,” he replied with a grin.

God, he was handsome.

Gwilym’s place was humble and cozy. He opened the door and allowed you inside, and you felt like he had just done the same with his heart. Everything about this place screamed “Gwilym Lee.” You walked through the front and into the sitting room, which had aged leather furniture and warm lamplight. The kitchen was smaller than what you were used to in the US, with a vintage look. It was also strictly practical.

Gwilym also had books everywhere. There was a half shelf in the sitting room beside the fireplace. A corner of the kitchen counter was dedicated to recipe books. They were also randomly on whatever surfaces he had set them down on while reading. You pictured him walking around, nose to the pages, glasses on, focused.

He had few decorations, but there were plenty of pictures. Some of his family and friends. But the majority appeared to be of him with his students. Gwilym was a literature professor, and he was clearly dedicated to his work.

“Would you like to see upstairs?” he offered. “There’s something really special up there I’d like to show you.”

“Please,” you said.

You followed him up the wooden staircase to the second floor. There were only a few rooms up here. Gwilym’s bedroom, a guest bedroom, a hallway bathroom, and one more door at the end of the hall. That was where he led you.

He opened the door, and you gasped at the side. Across each wall, floor to ceiling - bookshelves. Fully stocked, too. There were thick, leather bound reference books. Paperback novels. Limited edition classics. Everything you could imagine for a personal collection.

“This is my library,” he said, looking between the shelves and your face.

You wondered if you looked stupid with your mouth hanging open. Gwilym’s eyes shone as he gazed at you. How beautiful you were to him in this moment was beyond words.

“Gwil, this is incredible!” you cried. “Your very own library!”

He smiled. “Take a look around, see what you like!”

You went to the first shelf to your right and extracted a worn-looking book. The spine was damaged so you couldn’t read the title until you opened it.

“Anna Karenina,” you read.

“Ah, that’s quite a special one,” he said. “Very close to my heart. It’s my grandmother’s copy. If you look at the publication date, you’ll see why it’s so special.”

Your eyes scanned the page until you found it.

“1890?!” you gasped.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “She inherited it from her great-aunt. Because I collect so many books, she left it to me.”

“That’s amazing,” you said.

“Have you ever read it?” he asked.

“I have,” you said. “It’s a tragic story, but one of my favorite classics. This is a real treasure.”

“It is,” he agreed as you returned it to the shelf.

“You’re free to keep looking, if you like,” he offered.

You did. You perused the shelves and spotted another favorite.

“Oh, Summer of Katya!” you said. “I loved this book!”

“Another tragedy,” he said.

“Yeah, but what a wild ride,” you replied. “That plot twist had me shook for days.”

“Me as well,” he said. “A great story.”

“So, how many of these books have you actually read?” you wondered as you set Summer of Katya back.

“All of them.”

Your mouth fell open again.

“All of them?”

“All of them,” he laughed.

“That would take me the rest of my life!” you cried looking around again.

Gwilym watched you as you walked along the shelves, and you stopped to talk about a few more things. A small smile claimed his lips. You stopped talking and met his gaze.

“What?” you wondered. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just...you sort of seem to belong here in my home.”

You beamed. “I like feeling like I belong to the things you love, Gwilym.”

He held out his hand, which you took. With it, he pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. You sort of felt like you belonged there too. Maybe you could. And maybe spend much of your life in this room, picking out what to read next before crawling into bed beside your husband. That would be a rather heavenly way to live.

For the evening portion of your date, you and Gwil met at a bar right on the River Thames. Like usual, it was reserved for just the two of you to enjoy your date. You sat down together and you smiled at him before making a small toast.

After you each had a bit of your drinks, you took his hand.

“I really had a great time with you today,” you said. “I feel like, so balanced with you. We can be serious, we can laugh together, and we can have intellectual discussions too. I feel like I can be every part of myself around you.”

“I’m relieved,” he told you. “And I feel the same. I haven’t struggled in opening up to you, and that's really nice.”

“Can I admit something to you?” you asked.

“In the spirit of such honesty, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” he teased.

You chuckled and glanced down at your lap before looking back at him.

“When you first told me you’re a professor, I was really intimidated by you,” you said.

“Intimidated by me?” he questioned.

“I was nervous that you were going to think that I’m dumb,” you said.

He pursed his mouth in confusion. “W...why would I think that?”

“Because I feel like…” you trailed off. “I dunno, I’m not the most well-read person in the world, and I enjoy things that in the academic world might seem frivolous or silly. I try to keep up with current events, but I get distracted, and I think that all of that put together I -”

“Hold on,” he cut across you. “Y/N, none of that amounts to intelligence. You don’t have to read every book in my library or know every detail of Brexit to convince me that you’re smart. You are smart. A lot smarter than me in many ways.”

“Thank you,” you said, blushing.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered.

“Of course.”

“Who told you that you’re dumb?”

You blinked, unsure how to answer him.

“Hardly anybody thinks they’re dumb on their own,” he went on. “Which leads me to believe that somebody, somewhere convinced you of it.”

You blinked again, this time to get rid of the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I...I, uh, had an ex who said that to me a lot,” you answered at last. “Anytime I disagreed with him or tried to address something he’d done to upset me, he told me I was being stupid, or that I didn’t understand anything. So, I kind of just became convinced that I wasn’t very smart.”

“Let me tell you what I see,” he said. “In all my conversations with you, I’ve found you to be not only extremely clever, but also funny, kind, and giving. In fact, my admiration has grown so much that I can finally say…” he trailed off.

You had been forming a smile as he spoke, but when he hesitated, it faltered.

“Say what?” you pressed.

“Y/N, I’m falling in love with you,” he said. “It seems unbelievable that it should happen so fast. But you are exactly the kind of girl I’d like to be with for the rest of my life.”

You smiled so wide, you thought your face might crack. Then you leaned over and took his face in your hands to kiss him.

“Gwilym, I’m so happy to hear you say that,” you told him when you parted. “I feel like we’re really progressing. And I don’t want to stop.” You reached across the table and picked up the rose that was waiting there. “So, Gwilym. Will you accept this rose?”

“You know I will,” he replied, kissing you again.

Gwilym was very much a gentleman when he kissed you. It was slightly reserved, but with enough passion for you to feel how much he wanted to do more. Each move was thoughtful and considerate, just like him.

Gwilym: I really am falling for Y/N. I hate that she’s been with such terrible men in the past. She deserves so much more. I’d like to give her that.

You pinned the rose to his jacket and then you grinned at each other.

“You ready to go?” you asked.

“Go where?” he wondered.

“One of the most iconic places in London,” you said.

You offered your hand. He took it and followed you out. You walked together down the street until you reached it. The London Eye.

“Oh, God,” he sighed. “We’re really doing this?”

“Yes!” you insisted.

You had a whole pod reserved for the two of you. You were excited as you went up, but the higher you got, you also grew nervous. You clutched Gwilym’s hand.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re frightened,” he teased. “You went bungee jumping in the mountains!”

“I was scared of that too!” you returned.

“Come here, cariad,” he said gently, pulling you into his arms once again.

You leaned on him and looked out over the city. The sight was breathtaking. All the lights from the buildings looked like stars. The way they reflected off the river was stunning. You felt like you were looking down from outer space or something.

“This view is beautiful,” you said.

“I like mine better,” he replied.

You faced him and saw that his his eyes were fixed on you instead of London.

“Smooth,” you giggled.

“Kiss me,” he breathed.

You did. This kiss was different. It was deeper, more intentional, more open than your kisses before. Gwilym was fully giving himself to you and this process. To accent your joy perfectly, a fireworks show began over the river. You hardly noticed their colors or the sounds. Everything was just you and Gwilym.

Back at the house, the men were waiting for a date card. A few guys were bemoaning not being with you right now, but were holding out hope for a one on one. When there was a knock at the door, Richard went to fetch it. He returned with a card.

“It’s a group date,” he said. “Joe, Rami, Allen, Taron, Richard, Mike, and Kenny. Are you ready to meet Her Majesty? Ayyyy-yo! Y/N.”

“Ay-yo?” questioned Allen.

“What, like Freddie Mercury?” suggested Rami.

“What would Freddie Mercury have to do with a date, though?” Taron wondered.

“We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” said Mike. “With all of us on this date, that means…”

“Me and Luke are left,” Ben said with a heavy sigh. “It’s gonna be a two on one.”

A two on one meant a lot of risk because at least one of the people on it would be sent home on the date. It made Ben nervous because even though Luke’s behavior was atrocious, you kept him around, so there had to be a real connection there. Also, he was still angry at Luke for starting that stupid drama in the first place.

“I’m not worried,” Luke said. “Y/N and I have overcome a lot and I think that makes for a strong foundation.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Just don’t tell her any more sh*t you’ve made up about me.”

“I didn’t make anything up,” Luke returned. “I heard what I heard.”

“You didn’t hear anything because I. Never. Said. It.” Ben shot back.

“Neither did I,” Joe added. “But let’s leave this in the past, okay? All any of us can do is focus on our own relationships with her.”

Luke and Ben glowered at each other a moment longer before looking away.

The next day, everyone but Gwilym, Ben, and Luke, got on a bus and headed out from the hotel. Mike, Kenny, and Joe had never been to London before, so they were in awe of the city as they made their way to the unknown destination.

Taron: I feel terrible for Ben and what he’s going to face tomorrow, but I’m also really glad Luke isn’t here to ruin the group date again. Those of us here are actually decent blokes, so I think it’ll be a fun day.

“Is that Wembley Stadium?” Joe wondered, pointing in the direction the bus was heading.

“It is,” said Richard.

The group exchanged apprehensive looks as they were dropped off at the legendary arena and escorted into it.

Inside, on the field, was a stage setup. You stood center stage, smiling at the men. You were wearing all white - a white v-neck tank top, and white pants with a red and yellow racing stripe up the sides, belted at the waist. You also donned a yellow, military style leather jacket.

“Hello, gentlemen!” you greeted as they climbed up the stairs to join you. “Welcome to Wembley Stadium! How many of y’all have been here before?”

Taron, Richard, Allen, and Rami raised their hands. Joe, Mike, and Kenny did not. They were also the ones still looking around, while the others stayed focused on you.

“Well, surely you all know about the legendary concert that took place here in 1985, Live Aid,” you said, and they nodded. “And I’m sure you know which act stole the show.”

“Queen,” said Rami.

“Yep!” you confirmed. “So we’re gonna have some fun today. You’re all going to be dressed like Freddie Mercury and give me your best Live Aid performance.”

Their eyes widened as they looked at you, and you bit back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be lip-syncing,” you assured them. “There also won’t be an audience. The person who does the best job gets to talk to me first at the cocktail party tonight.”

“Will you be the judge?” Taron asked.

“Actually, I won’t, I’m just enjoying the show,” you said. “The judges are some very special people who are quite familiar with Freddie.”

“Oh my God…” Rami said under his breath.

You smirked. “Guys, please welcome Queen and Adam Lambert!”

The guys clapped as Brian May, Roger Taylor, and Adam Lambert emerged onto the stage. They first hugged you and then turned to face the men.

Richard: I can’t believe this...it’s f***ing Queen! We’re on a date with Queen! I mean - we’re on a date with Y/N - but Queen is there! I’m blown away right now!

“Hullo, guys,” said Brian with a gentle wave. “We just wanted to let you all know - don’t be nervous. This is meant to be something fun to show Y/N you can come out of your shell a bit.”

“Yes, have fun,” Roger agreed. “Don’t be afraid to make an arse out of yourself. Freddie certainly wasn’t.”

Everyone chuckled.

“So, you guys have fifteen minutes to change and decide on one song from the Live Aid set you want to do,” Adam explained. “You can watch the clip of your choice as much as you want in that fifteen minutes.”

“The costumes are backstage,” you said. “You guys ready?”

They nodded at you.

“Okay, fifteen minutes starts now!”

While the guys got changed and prepared, you and the band went around and checked up on them. You went over to Mike first, who was watching the video of Live Aid and scrubbing through it quickly.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Okay,” he replied. “I don’t really know any Queen songs, so I’m listening for something that sounds familiar.”

“You know We Will Rock You?” you wondered.

“I know those words of it,” he laughed.

You giggled. “Well, I’d go for that one, then. It’s second to last.”

“Thank you,” he sighed.

You looked over and saw Rami chatting with Brian. Richard was talking to Roger, and Allen and Kenny were talking to Adam. Everyone was in the iconic white tank top and light wash jeans. They also had the studded armband and mustache. You went over to Taron next.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“I know what song I’ll do,” he told you. “Bohemian Rhapsody. That way I can sit behind a piano for most of it.”

“Nice,” you chuckled. “You play, right?”

“I do,” he said. “Although, as you learned on our Disney date, I’m much more of an Elton John man than Queen. Don’t get me wrong, I adore them, but Elton is more my style.”

“I’d love to hear you play some Elton for me sometime,” you said. “But honestly, now is the time to get out of your comfort zone and show me your edge, Taron.”

“I’ll do anything for you, love,” he replied with a grin.

Then you headed over to Rami.

“Hey, sweetie,” you said as he pulled you into a hug.

When you parted, you had to take a moment. Rami really looked like Freddie for a split second. With the mustache and the clothes...he had even styled his hair. He was getting really into this.

“Woah, you look great!” you said.

“Thanks,” he returned. “I’m really excited for this.”

“I know you’re an actor, so you’re not too worried,” you joked. “Which song did you pick?”

“Radio GaGa,” he told you.

“Good choice,” you praised.

You chatted with Rami for another moment before moving on to Richard.

“Just be grateful we picked Live Aid and not one of our shows from the seventies,” Roger was saying as you approached. “You’d all be in leotards.”

“I dunno, I think I could make it work,” Richard returned with a chuckle.

“I definitely think you could make it work,” you agreed. “How’s it going over here?”

“Pretty good,” Richard said. “I know what I’m going to do.”

“Awesome!” you said. “You a big Queen fan?”

“Massive Queen fan,” he told you. “This is kind of a dream for me.”

“I think you’ve found your man, Y/N,” Roger teased. “This one’s clearly got the best taste.”

You laughed.

The fifteen minutes went by more quickly than you anticipated, but most of the guys seemed ready. There were a few nerves you could feel, but they weren’t too bad. Kenny was up first.

Kenny did “We Are the Champions” and he was pretty good. He clearly knew the words, but he was also nervous and shy. You found that surprising since he was a pro wrestler and part of his act was to put on a bit of a show. You cut him some slack, though. This was out of his element.

Taron was second, and he was better. His performance did come out more like Elton than like Freddie, but he was really feeling the music. You could tell he had wanted to play and sing himself, so he was holding back a little bit.

Mike was third. He did “We Will Rock You” and had a lot of energy, but it was more his own than like Freddie. You didn’t mind, since you liked Mike’s style, but it didn’t bode well for him as far as the competition went.

Allen was fourth, and he did “Hammer to Fall.” So far, he came the closest to looking like Freddie up on stage. He was upbeat and had obviously studied the movements. The only problem was that it came off a little too rehearsed.

Richard went next. He had the same idea as Taron to do “Bohemian Rhapsody” so he wouldn’t have to move around so much. He was even more reserved than Taron. Evidently, he was not much of a performer at all, despite how much he loved the music.

Joe was sixth. He did “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” It was similar in idea to Taron and Richard, because he got to use an instrument. Joe could actually play guitar, so he mimed it well. Like Mike, he was more Joe than Freddie. Joe wasn’t a shy person at all, so he was still entertaining.

Finally, it was Rami. From the first notes of “Radio GaGa,” you could tell there was something different about Rami’s performance. Every move, every step, every turn was intentional, but looked effortlessly Freddie. It took you off guard. Rami looked the most like Freddie, and with this performance, you were convinced he had a spiritual connection to the man. You looked over at Brian and Roger. Brian had tears in his eyes. Roger was closing his mouth just as you looked. They saw it too. Adam placed a comforting hand on each of their shoulders.

When Rami finished, the whole arena was deathly silent. All eyes were fixed on Rami, who stood breathless on stage, but looking proud. He also looked like...not Rami. That last note rang out, and for a moment, it was as if Freddie himself stood there.

Finally, Roger cleared his throat.

“Well done,” he choked out. “We’ll just need a...a moment to uh, discuss.”

The band walked out of earshot for a moment and you approached Rami.

“I think you shook them up,” you said. “You certainly shook me up.”

He shot you a worried glance.

“In a good way,” you assured him. “Believe me, you were incredible.”

The band returned and appeared to have recovered from their shock.

“Everybody did a fine job,” Brian began. “Just remember to not be so shy. Show Y/N that you can open up and be yourself.”

“This really brought me back,” Roger added. “But one person in particular really captured Freddie’s spirit today.”

“And that person is Rami,” Adam announced.

You let out a cheer and clapped for Rami, and the rest of the men joined you. You hugged him around the neck as you congratulated him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said bashfully.

“Congratulations, Rami,” Brian said. “Enjoy your time with Y/N first tonight, and remember to use it wisely.”

Everyone thanked the band for their part, and got autographs before they left. Then it was time for the evening portion of the date. It was still at Wembley, in a private box, which overlooked the field. The stage set up had been removed already, so it was returned to its sport ready look. It was still lit up in the darkness by the stadium lights.

You met the men in the box and gave a toast. Then, you took Rami by the hand and led him out. Also reserved for you was the next box over, so you could have private conversations. You and Rami went in there and sat down to chat.

“You were seriously amazing today,” you told him. “That was like, Oscar worthy.”

He chuckled. “I dunno about all that, but I definitely had fun. Freddie Mercury is pretty special to me.”

“Why’s that?” you wondered.

“Well, we sort have a lot in common,” he said. “We’re both kinda awkward brown boys from immigrant families, but with a lot of dreams.”

“I can see that,” you said. “You feel that strongly about acting?”

“I do,” he said. “I take it very seriously. I believe in myself, and I hope that someday I can be big enough to win an Oscar. I wanna be like Freddie, where kids who look like me can start believing that they can succeed too.”

You loved that idea and what it represented. The only thing for you was that actors were away a lot, and you wanted to raise a family. With a partner.

“How does that dream fall in with your desire to have a family?” you asked.

“Lots of actors have families,” he said. “I’m already settled in LA, where most of the jobs are, and that’s where I’d want to raise my family. And I’d work with my partner to make sure my schedule didn’t interfere with important things. I know it won’t be easy, but I am family oriented, and I know I can do both. But the last thing I wanna do is settle.”

“Settle?” you questioned.

“I mean, I don’t want to take some safe, nine-to-five job just because I want to get married and have a family,” he said. “I want to pursue my dreams so that my kids will have someone they can really be proud of. Someone who didn’t give up on his passion.”

You smiled. “I like that. You’re a very driven person, Rami, I hadn’t noticed that about you before.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re learning now,” he said. “I am driven and focused and there’s a lot I want out of life.”

You both paused to sip your drinks.

“What about you?” he said. “What are you passionate about?”

“I’m most passionate about family,” you said. “I didn’t really have those connections as a kid. My family isn’t very close. I want that unit, that strength that comes with being together.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” he said. “Is there anything else?”

“Like what?” you wondered.

“Like hobbies,” he said. “Y/N, don’t you have interests besides that?”

“I read a lot,” you told him. “And I like fashion and beauty, but those are just normal girl things.”

“Are you kidding?” he returned. “There’s a lot there to go with. Do you ever design your own stuff?”

You blushed. “I...well, I do sort of have this dream of starting my own clothing label.”

“That’s awesome!” he said excitedly. “Tell me more!”

“Well, I’d want to use all recycled materials so we’re not being wasteful,” you said. “That way it’s like thrifting, but you’ll still get the latest styles. Everything would just be re-designed and…” you trailed off. “Sorry. It’s kind of a silly idea.”

“Not at all!” he insisted. “I think it’s a great idea. Environmentally friendly and everything. That’s amazing, Y/N. Don’t doubt yourself.”

“You certainly help me believe in it,” you replied, all embarrassment fading away at his enthusiasm.

“I want to help you believe in yourself,” he said. “It’s important to me.”

“It is?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said. “I want to be there for you. I’m falling in love with you and I want to help you see yourself through my eyes.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You grinned.

“You’re falling in love with me?”

“More and more every day,” he assured you.

With that, he kissed you. Rami’s kisses were always deeply passionate and romantic. It made you feel like you two were on the cover of a romance novel or something. You felt like you were in your own romance novel because you were falling for Rami too. He was just so special.

Rami: I really am falling in love with Y/N. I can just see a wonderful future with her as my wife. She’s everything you could ever want.

After Rami, Joe wanted to see you. Your time with Joe went as well as it usually did. You laughed together a lot and discussed the date. He reassured you that he was falling for you. You were tempted to say it back, but hesitated. You felt strongly for Joe, but there was still more to explore there.

Allen pulled you after Joe. You were still holding back with Allen, and you felt that he was too. He had told you more of his story on your one on one, but since then, you hadn’t had a serious conversation. You didn’t feel uncomfortable around him or anything, but there was something more you wanted. Like he was only giving himself partially to this. You wanted him to give everything.

Richard came next. Similar to Allen, he held back from you. He had divulged even less information about himself. Less than any of the other men there. Richard was fun and easygoing, but you wanted him to dig deeper. He just wasn’t going there. You needed to find out why.

Taron followed after Richard. Taron was not afraid of giving his heart to you, and you could feel it ever since that one on one. Every time you spoke to him, the relationship moved forward, in the right direction. You always looked forward to your time with him, and today was no different.

There was a piano in the private box, and Taron made good on his promise to play for you. He began with “Your Song” by Elton John, one of your favorites. His voice was swoon-worthy, and you loved listening. Each time he sang, you pictured him in your house together, singing your kids to sleep or just serenading you before bed. He felt like home to you.

“Life really is wonderful with you in the world, Y/N,” he said as he finished. “It’s becoming pretty difficult to imagine my life without you in it.”

“That’s sweet,” you said. “I’d have a hard time without you, too.”

“Really, Y/N,” he said. “I’m falling in love with you. Hard.”

You met his gaze, heart racing with joy.

“I’m so happy you told me,” you whispered. “You’re amazing, Taron.”

He kissed you. Short and sweet because neither of you could stop smiling.

Mike and Kenny also made things difficult on you because they both told you they were falling in love as well. You felt like all of them deserved roses tonight, but you knew who you wanted the rose to go to. As you all gathered back in the original box, you picked it up off the table.

“Thank you all for an incredible day,” you said. “We got a bit of a rock concert and I got to see you all just have a good time. But I wanna give this rose to someone who really proved himself today. Who showed me something new and moved our relationship forward.”

You found Rami’s eyes.

“Rami, will you accept this rose?”

“I will,” he assured you, getting to his feet.

You pinned it to his jacket as he kissed your cheek. Then, you bid them all goodnight. You were still riding the high of the day when you remembered that the following day, you had your two on one with Ben and Luke.

The date card arrived for Ben and Luke while the rest of the men were at the cocktail party with you. Gwilym retrieved it and read it out loud.

“Ben and Luke,” he said. “I want us to grow. Love, Y/N.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Ben groaned.

“What, eager to go home?” Luke taunted.

Ben rolled his eyes and went to his room for the night.

The next day, Ben and Luke each placed their luggage by the door. Whoever went home, the producers would come and take their luggage to the airport. The two men were driven by car to meet you in a lovely garden and park. Everything was blooming so it was the perfect time of year for a date like this. You just wished you weren’t dreading it so much. One of them was going home, but you felt like you needed time with both of them. Hopefully today would be enough.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted, trying to sound chipper as they hugged you one by one. “So today, we’re having a picnic in the park. It’s really beautiful here, so let’s have a good day, yeah?”

“O’course,” Ben agreed.

“Definitely,” Luke added.

“Okay, let’s go.”

You led them over the set up that was reserved for you. It was a small table with three chairs around it. You sat first - in between them - and then poured everyone a glass of champagne. The champagne was more for you, really. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, and you needed to feel at ease. These two had such animosity between them.

“So, Luke, you wanna go talk?” you asked.

“Sure, yeah,” he agreed.

You walked around a hedge to another small table. You took a swig of your drink and then looked at him.

“So, I know you’re not over everything that happened in Asheville, and neither am I,” you said.

“No, I’m over it,” he protested. “Really, I’m not mad at you anymore. I wanna move on.”

“I wanna move on too,” you said. “But I feel like we have to talk about this because this is a disagreement on something fundamental, and I don’t think you understand that.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like, you were angry at me for taking off my clothes in front of Joe,” you said. “Because of your beliefs, you felt like it was disrespectful. I don’t know any other way to tell you that I don’t share those beliefs and you can’t force them on me.”

“I don’t want to force them on you,” he said. “But I think that you should be more aware of our feelings in this and behave - y’know - properly.”

That familiar anger stirred in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay, Luke, I behaved just fine -”

“Really?” he scoffed. “Getting naked in front of a guy on your first date with him is fine behavior?”

You could have screamed.

“Oh my God,” you sighed. “Let’s get one thing straight, okay? I can do whatever the hell I want. This is my journey, it’s my body, and whatever I decide to do with it is up to me and not subject to your approval.”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to help you,” he said gently. “I prayed about it, and I feel like my purpose here is to save you.”

“To save me?” you questioned.

“You’re being led astray by these other men,” he said. “But together, we can -”

“Okay, Luke, stop,” you said. “We’re not getting into theological arguments today. Clearly, it doesn’t matter to you that I don’t want to hear it. The other thing we need to address is why you lied about Joe and Ben.”

“I didn’t lie,” he insisted. “I know what I heard.”

“But none of the other guys heard it,” you reminded him. “And if they said it out loud, they said it to someone with ears, so they must have heard it. Just be honest and tell me why you did it.”

“I know I heard that conversation, Y/N,” he said firmly. “I’m not a liar.”

“So literally every other guy in that house is?” you challenged.

“Y/N, please,” he begged. “I love you. I want this more than anything. And look at what we’ve overcome.”

“Luke, we haven’t overcome anything!” you cried. “We’re still working this out because you’re not being honest with me!”

“I’m telling you my truth!” he returned.

A beat passed in uncomfortable silence.

“Do you believe me when I say that I love you?” he asked.

You held his gaze. Then you took a deep breath.

“No,” you said heavily.

He looked away, unable to form words.

Ben: I’m kind of nervous about today. She’s kept him around long enough for me to think there must really be something there that I’m not seeing. I just hope my connection with her is stronger.

You and Luke returned to where Ben was still waiting. Nothing else had been said. You grabbed Ben’s hand and led him away next, desperate for some relief. Luke made you feel like every step of this process was such a battle. Ben excited you, and you hoped he still did.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay,” you said. “I’m sorry to put you through this, I know it’s not easy.”

“No worries, love,” he said. “You’re worth all of this. Every part of this journey.”

You smiled, and you felt warmth returning to your body. You realized within seconds of talking to Ben that Luke made you feel cold and closed off. Ben made you feel warm and open. That was the feeling you were looking for.

“How are you?” you asked him.

“I’m perfect, now I’m with you,” he replied. “I’m not going to lie, watching the other guys going out with you throughout the week isn’t easy, but I’m here for the long haul. I’m ready to stick it out if it means you and me at the end.”

You leaned into his chest and hummed happily. He wrapped his arms around you. Then he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You felt cared for and respected.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I was that you believed me last week,” he said. “Knowing that you trust me, and you’re willing to hear from everyone, it makes me fall for you all the more. You’re fair and kind and patient. I dunno how you put up with the lot of us.”

You giggled and then looked up at him.

“Well, you’re all so handsome, it’s hard to stay mad at you,” you teased.

“I see,” he joked back. “You’re just in it for the eye candy.”

“Haven’t you heard?” you asked sarcastically. “I’m actually looking for a trophy husband.”

He chuckled. “It’s almost hard for me to joke about, since I actually like almost everyone.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“You’ve got a fantastic group here,” he said. “As heartbroken as I’d be if it’s not me and you, I know you’d be in good hands.”

“That’s so sweet, Ben,” you said.

You felt such a soft affection for him in this moment. That comment made one thing abundantly clear to you: Ben wanted only what was best for you, whatever made you happiest, even if it wasn’t him. You wondered how he’d never been in love before, when he gave it so freely and selflessly. Your value to him did not hinge on your behavior with the other men.

You chatted with Ben a while longer, just trying to forget about what Luke had said. Plus, you liked Ben a lot and enjoyed talking to him. It was quickly becoming more than liking him, which scared you a little, but you knew he would be there to catch you once you fell. You were still teetering on the edge.

Your decision was made when you returned to where Luke waited. There was no need to give him any more chances. You didn’t trust him anymore, and you had such different beliefs, it never would work out. You sat down and picked up the rose.

“I’m gonna be perfectly honest and say that this was not a very difficult decision for me today,” you said. “So far, this has been the easiest decision I’ve made.”

You looked at Ben and decided to get right to it.

“Ben, will you accept this rose?”

You heard Luke suck in a soft breath as you and Ben stood up. You pinned the rose on him and hugged him tight. Then you looked at Luke.

“Can I walk you out?” you asked.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, still dazed.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Ben.

You and Luke walked together toward the car that was waiting to take him to the airport. Ben heaved a relieved sigh and sat back down with a wide grin on his face.

Back at the house, Joe was closest to the door when he heard it open. The producer was there to take the luggage.

“Guys!” Joe yelled. “It’s happening!”

The rest of the men rushed to the door to find out who it was. They watched with bated breath as the producer’s hand stretched out and grabbed Luke’s luggage. They all roared with delight and began jumping and hugging each other as the door closed again. Luke was leaving at last!

“Hold on, let me get champagne!” Gwilym cried, jogging to the kitchen.

They all followed him, still laughing and congratulating each other. Gwilym handed out the glasses and Joe stood on the counter to make a toast.

“To Ben,” he said. “For getting that f***er out of here at last.”

“To Ben!” the others echoed before taking a drink.

“And to Y/N,” Rami said. “For making the right choice.”

“Y/N!” they cried, and they all downed their drinks.

Back on the date, you walked Luke to the black van waiting for him. You stood outside the door to let him say something.

“I just…” he trailed off. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” you said. “We’re just too different. We have different beliefs, different values. And we couldn’t move past those things.”

“But I love you,” he said.

You shook your head. “I don’t think you do. I think you love the woman that you want me to be. The version of me that you created who does take part in your faith and share that with you. But that’s not who I am.”

“I…” he lost words again.

“I really am sorry,” you said. “I hope you find that person.”

“Thanks,” he said dully.

You opened the door for him. He slid into the seat. You closed the door and watched the car pull away. You were certain you had done the right thing. Luke was so wrong for you in so many ways. But you meant what you said. You were sure that girl was out there somewhere for him. But he was not for you.

You hurried back to Ben and leapt into his arms when you saw him. You kissed him as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“It’s just you and me tonight, baby!” you cried.

“Thank God!” he returned.

That night, you and Ben went to a fine restaurant and had a wonderful dinner. It was similar to your one on one, where the conversation flowed. You talked about serious things and lighthearted things. Neither of you brought up Luke again. Ben looked as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

After dinner, you walked around nearby and saw a street performer playing the cello. The melody was soaring and beautiful. Ben spun you into his arms and began to sway with you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood with him, heart full. He opened his eyes to meet yours.

“Y/N, I’m falling in love with you,” he said simply.

You saw how much he meant it in those beautiful green eyes of his. Tears welled up in yours. You were no longer teetering. You slipped right off the edge.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” you returned, without thinking.

You were not supposed to say “love” to anyone but the person you got engaged to, but you didn’t feel bad about breaking the rules for Ben. He had shown you today how much you meant to him. And he meant that much to you too. If you weren’t with him at the end of this, you wished only for him to have a happy and fulfilling life. You genuinely hoped he was at the end of this though because you weren’t ready to let him go. You weren’t sure you ever would be.

The following day, you once again decided to cancel the cocktail party. You knew where your heart was, and you didn’t want to drag out the whole night when your mind was made up. So when you arrived at the hotel, you were ready.

The hotel had a lovely ballroom on the first floor where you were having the rose ceremony. You walked in and forced a smile. This was going to be a pretty tough one. Two men would be leaving that you really liked.

“Sorry again for the cocktail party,” you said. “But I really am just trying to follow my heart.”

You waited a beat before picking up the first rose. There were only four.

“Joe,” you called.

He walked forward proudly.

“Joe, will you accept this rose?”

“I will.”

He returned to the group. You picked up the next rose.

“Taron,” you said.

He beamed at you and jogged up.

“Taron, will you accept this rose?” you asked with a smile, since his was contagious.

“Of course.”

You pinned it on him and he walked back over. You saw Richard take a deep breath.

“Richard,” you said.

He exhaled before walking over.

“Richard, will you accept this rose?”

“Always.”

As Richard returned to the group, Chris Harrison walked out.

“Y/N, gentlemen,” he said. “This is the final rose tonight. When you’re ready, Y/N.”

You picked up the rose. You found the man you wanted to give it to.

“Allen,” you said.

You saw the relief wash over him as he approached you.

“Allen, will you accept this rose?”

“I certainly will,” he assured you.

He walked back over to the group. Mike and Kenny looked dejected, and you understood why. It was never easy.

“Kenny, Mike, I’m sorry,” Chris said. “Take a moment, say your goodbyes.”

They took a while to say goodbye to the guys, which did sort of make you feel good. You liked that the remaining men were friends.

Kenny came up to you first.

“I’m sorry,” you said, suddenly choking on the words. You weren’t sure when the tears started. “You deserve so much -”

“Don’t, Y/N,” he said gently. “It was a pleasure getting to know you.”

You nodded and he pulled you into a hug.

“You’re gonna be amazing,” he whispered to you.

With that, he left and headed to the car waiting for him. Mike came up next. You actually sobbed. Mike was such a wonderful man, and you hated that you weren’t there with him.

“I’m so sorry,” you sniffled.

“It’s okay,” he assured you with a smile. “You’re beautiful and strong, okay? I know you’ll find your happiness.”

“You will too,” you replied softly.

He reached over to wipe away a tear with his thumb.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

He too, departed.

The remaining men moved forward to engulf you in a group hug. While you were sure of the decisions you had made, you hated to hurt people, and both Kenny and Mike had told you they were falling for you. But you couldn’t get there with them, and it was terrible. They were great guys. You just knew they weren’t right for you.

“So,” you said, fanning your face a bit. “Next, we’re going to -”

“Y/N!” someone bellowed from the lobby of the hotel.

Your brow furrowed.

“Is that…” you trailed off, eyes going wide with horror.

Then he appeared in the doorway of the ballroom.

“Luke!” you cried. “What are you doing here?!”

“I’m not giving up on us,” he said, marching toward you.

His body language looked dangerous. Joe was closest to you and you reached for him. He immediately caught on and wrapped his arms around you, placing himself between you and Luke.

The other men stood in front of the two of you, not allowing Luke any closer.

“She sent you home, Luke,” said Richard darkly. “You can’t be here.”

“I just wanna talk, Y/N,” Luke said, ignoring Richard and trying to look around him. “Y/N, please! I just wanna work this out!”

“Well, I don’t!” you returned. “Just go!”

“I know there’s something here!” he insisted. “There’s gotta be! Don’t give up!”

You peered at him around Joe’s arm.

“No, there isn’t!” you shouted. “You’re scaring me, Luke. Just leave.”

He moved forward, but Ben placed a hand on his chest.

“Not a step closer,” Ben warned.

“Just stay out of this,” Luke spat.

“She asked you to leave, Luke,” Allen said. “So go.”

“No, I’m not giving up,” Luke said.

“Oh, my God,” you whispered into Joe’s chest. “Oh, my God.”

Joe lowered his lips to your ear. “Don’t worry. We’re not gonna let him anywhere near you.”

“This is just crazy,” you went on. “He’s acting crazy.”

“Y/N, please!” Luke continued to plead.

Chris Harrison at last approached, accompanied by security guards. Chris went directly to you.

“What do you wanna do, Y/N?” he asked. “Do you wanna talk to him?”

“No!” you insisted. “I want him to leave!”

“Okay,” Chris said. He turned to Luke. “Luke, it’s time to go.”

The security guards stepped toward him, but he stepped away.

“Wait!” he pressed. “Wait, Y/N - just - please. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me here. That’s the only way I’ll believe it.”

You met his gaze with a scowl.

“I don’t want you here,” you said venomously. “Get out.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging. Then, he straightened up, turned on his heel, and stormed out. You hoped that was the last you ever saw of him.

“You alright?” Joe asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” You looked at Chris. “He did actually leave, right?”

He nodded. “We made sure of it.”

You took a deep breath.

“You wanna tell them where we’re going next?” he asked.

You let yourself smile, even though you were still a bit shaken.

“Yeah,” you said. You addressed the men. “Guys, we’re going to Killarney, Ireland!”

Allen whooped and pumped a fist in the air. You laughed. You knew he’d be excited to be back home in Ireland. But the rest of the guys seemed excited too. You gazed at them in awe. It was hard to believe that you had already narrowed it down to seven guys. Seven incredible guys. You couldn’t ask for more.

That night, as you packed in your hotel room, you heard a knock at the door. For a moment, you feared Luke had come to speak to you again, but you told production you didn’t want him near you. Still, you peeked through the peephole before answering. The man behind it took your breath away. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It couldn’t be! Could it?

You opened the door apprehensively.

“Jamie?”

To be continued…

129 notes · View notes

eldweena · 4 years

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So...road trip this weekend. This is pretty absurd, but we don’t really have used bookstores here... We have a Books-A-Million at the mall, which dabbles in used books but just barely, and a nerdy store called The Inner Geek that has some books but mostly vintage toys and tabletop gaming gear. And I heard someone opened a book café, but it’s on the far end of town and the online photos made it look more café and less book. (Maybe it’s BYOB, bring-your-own-book?) ANYWAY. Point being. When we want to brose a *good* used bookstore - which I often do, because I love out-of-print classic fantasy novels - we have to leave the state. So Saturday we drove two hours to Lexington because they have a couple Half Price Books stores. And after a full year of not leaving town due to COVID, we had like 7 bags full of books, CDs, video games, and DVDs to sell. Everything went great at the first store. We got there shortly after they opened at 10:00 am and there were signs posted everywhere saying one person per aisle. They had a sign on the door, and also called over the intercom, that your mask must cover your NOSE as well as your mouth. They’re taking the pandemic seriously and holding customers accountable! I was very pleased. We got $50 for half our sell-backs and found a lot of great buys, too. Then we had lunch at Schlotzky’s. I didn’t mean to take her picture, but in the background you can see a masked woman. She brought a book into the restaurant to read and it made my heart feel happy! After lunch we found an Asian market and my wife stocked up on sweets and drinks. Then we headed to the second HPB, and that’s where we somehow picked up a stalker. This store was a different experience entirely. This time we only got $30 for our remaining sell-backs (we split the selling into two trips so we wouldn’t have to be running back and forth between the store and the car in one go), and while the signage was the same, nobody was adhering. We were looking at science fiction paperbacks and a tall man talking loudly on his phone kept stepping closer to me until he literally brushed my arm. He wasn’t even looking at books - he was on the phone. I pointedly stomped around the other side of our cart to get away from him and while he didn’t stutter in his phone conversation, he did go away. I was about ready to make a scene with a loud, “EXCUSE ME - SIX FEET!” My god!!! People piss me off. Then we went to look at some gaming books because my wife found some old White Wolf manuals and we kind of collect them. (I did LARP Vampire: the Masquerade and MAGE briefly, but mostly I keep them for writing inspiration because the worldbuilding is just fascinating...) This time a young male kept inching his way closer while we were examining the two books they had. (The MAGE manual was brand new, velvet-lined, purple, and pristine. Also $60, so I passed. The Camarilla book was an older edition of the one I have, and the pages were pretty filthy, so I also passed.) I thought initially the guy wanted to look at the gaming books because - I say this only because he had glasses and unkempt hair - he looked like a nerd. Turns out, that was not the case. I caught the same guy staring at us as we moved to another section of the store, where he suddenly also happened to be. My wife went into the young adult alcove and was quickly swarmed by three girls. I couldn’t even get into the crowded aisle (again, the limit was supposed to be one person!) so I went to another shelf to look at true crime. I checked the YA books a couple more times, waiting for it to clear out some. And the guy was hanging around a corner. Not even alone, he was with a girl and I think another guy. By then I was feeling annoyed. I had a fucking mask on, so I knew he wasn’t really looking at my face??? We then looked at middle grade because I’m always on the lookout for Donna Jo Napoli, and that’s where they stick her, and i SAW The SAME GUY! He was never actually looking at books. He was always just standing there, looking out of place and hella awkward, never alone but with the same two people, but he was always looking at us. I wasn’t sure if my wife had noticed so I said, “Let’s get the fuck outta here. I’m tired of that guy staring at us.” She hadn’t noticed, but loudly proclaimed, “Where is he? I’ll stare right back?” I just said again, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” We took our cart of books (yep, found some more) up to the registers. AND THAT MOTHERFUCKER FOLLOWED US. He like...jumped in line behind us, took a sliding leap. He was holding some things so I was like...well, I guess he could be checking out at the same time as us, coincidentally...??? But this time he was without his companions. So we started checking out and I whisper-hissed to my wife, “That’s--” and she said, “I know.” Then, loudly, she said how rude it was for people to stare. Our cashier said something (I’m hard of hearing so I don’t know what he said; my wife said he told her something like, “I understand, I’m sorry that happened to you”), then the other cashier, who I thought was checking that stalker-boy out, held up a flower book and asked, “Is this yours?” We were like...uh....no...and went about our business. After we checked out I grabbed our bags and was trying to like, run for the door. He’d only had like two things in his hands when I saw him scurry into line, and I was scared he’d try and follow us. I’m one of those people who fumbles and drops things and typos and gets all sorts of clumsy when I try to hurry, so it took twice as long as it should have. Finally we got out the door and I kept whisper-hissing to my wife, let’s hurry to the car. And she was like, no, if he follows us I’m going to tell him to fuck off! We got to the car and loaded up our books as fast as possible, and I just wanted the hell out of that parking lot, but my wife was like, no, there’s a trash can beside the store entrance and I’m dumping our garbage. I didn’t want to hesitate or linger, but despite her insistence that she could do it alone, I went with her. That guy gave me a really bad feeling. He could have been a harmless staring-type of creeper, but regardless, I wasn’t about to let her find out on her own. We went back to the store, and as she dumped our trash my wife said that guy was still in the store, fucking staring at us through the window. When they made eye contact, he ducked away from the corner and went down an aisle. I felt shaky for almost an hour after that, until we were headed out of Lexington and absorbed in an audiobook. I don’t feel like it was all harmless coincidence. How many times can you run into the same person in a store, even a small one? Why was he even there, if he wasn’t interested in books? I’m not sure if he even bought anything, or did he hand that flower book to “his” cashier and try to get her to give it to us as a creepy gift from him? Like, I don’t even know what was up with that flower book. We weren’t even at that end of the counter. We also considered that he might have gotten it into his head that we were shoplifting. I don’t know what would have given him that impression, other than perhaps the fact that I kept taking my cell phone out of my hoodie pocket and tucking it back, as I was comparing prices online versus the store, as I always do... I did see him lean over the counter and talk to the cashiers as we were leaving, and I thought at the time, is he complaining about us? Did he think we were stealing??? Which we weren’t, nor were we behaving suspiciously in any way. And, if he had thought that, why hadn’t he reported us the first or second times we bumped into each other, instead of waiting until seeing us check out and then jumping into line behind us? I mean, WTF. My best guess was that he perceived two girls looking at gaming books and got nerdily excited. But he didn’t try and start a conversation, he just. kept. staring. Men, don’t do this, ever. Women have enough shit to worry about without you stalking them, even by accident, in a fucking store.

#stalking #creepers #road trip #bookstores #asian markets

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citrinekay · 5 years

Note

2: i loved in "two inches to the left" the brief mention of Bill's apartment being almost barren and impersonal--would love to see something about Holden moving in and helping fill those spaces. whether it's them actively doing it together, or Bill realizing after awhile that Holden has helped him make a house into a home, so to speak.

Me: I love angst. I’m an angst master. give me all the pain and suffering.

Also me getting this prompt: i’m just a soft baby. love poetry and sappiness. give me all the tooth-rotting fluff.

You have been warned!

Holden hadn’t had many stipulations when he agreed to move in. The only thing he wanted to bring from his old, bachelor lifestyle was his collection of books. In his old apartment, he didn’t have much room for the ever-growing number of paperbacks, and a dismaying handful of them had never made it outside of his moving boxes.

In retrospect, he’d never meant to stay at that apartment for so long. When he’d first returned from his brick agent days in Chicago, he’d rented the apartment with the plan - or rather belief - that he’d soon get back into the dating pool and find someone to move on with. As it turned out, his new job in witness protection hadn’t afforded him much time to break into the dating scene.

It wasn’t until he met Debbie that he thought he might be onto something. But Debbie wasn’t all that interested in hanging around his apartment or his book collection. She had her own books and ideas, and so the paperbacks stayed in their boxes. Then came Kemper and the study, profiling, consults, work days that bled into one another with few breaks in between. Holden’s book collection gathered dust in his guest bedroom even as it continued to grow.

They’re enjoying an unusual weekend off in downtown Fredricksburg when Holden pulls Bill into a vintage book shop that’s displaying a second edition of John Keats in the window.

Bill looks on in amusement as Holden forks over the cash for the volume.

“I didn’t know you were a poetry guy.”

“You learn something new every day.” Holden says, gleefully taking the bag from the cashier. “I have a pretty big collection of books in my apartment. I just don’t have the time to read all of them.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, mostly still boxed up.” Holden says as they step out of the shop and back onto the bustling sidewalk. “I don’t have a shelf for them.”

“We should get you one.”

“Maybe we can.” Holden says, “That giant, bare wall in your living room would make the perfect spot.”

Maybe he hadn’t really meant to say it, or though it would come out as a jest. But Bill stops walking behind him, and Holden gets several feet up the sidewalk before he realizes Bill isn’t matching his pace.

“What?” Holden asks, wandering back down the sidewalk to Bill’s side.

“Are you inviting yourself to move in with me?” Bill asks, a conflicted look of disbelief and eagerness colliding in the lopsided smile on his mouth.

“It was a joke.” Holden says, giving a forced chuckle. “Right?”

Bill shrugs. “A joke. Sure.”

The joke lasts for a week before Bill brings it up again. They’re lying in a hotel bed across the country, in California where the sun is shining through the window, and the air on the West Coast is starting to have a familiar tang.

Bill’s fingertips wander down Holden’s arm, awakening goosebumps.

“It’s not such a bad idea, you know.” He says, “You moving in with me.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. We practically live together as it is.”

“It would be more efficient.” Holden says, adjusting his cheek against Bill’s shoulder, and smoothing a hand over his bare ribs. “One mortgage, fewer bills …”

“I’m not talking about that.”

Holden slowly lifts his head from Bill’s chest. Bill’s eyes are somber, that storm-cloud gray that makes Holden want to live inside them - and now he can have it every day without interruption if he wants.

“Me either. Not really.” He whispers, his chest aching with a sudden joyful longing.

Though they never really said it aloud, the decision had already been made. The next week when they get back into town, Holden cleans out his apartment. The last thing he loads up are the boxes of books which has now grown to an even six. The Keats book is sitting on the top of the last box that he slides into his trunk. A smile fixes itself on his mouth as he climbs behind the wheel and drives away from Essex House for the last time.

The power drill whirs as it slides the last nail in place, completing the polished, walnut bookcase Holden had picked from a dozen other choices at the store. Bill sets the tool aside, and runs a hand across the finished corner.

“You think it’s big enough?” He asks, shooting a teasing glance at the stacks of boxes sitting in the corner of the living room.

“It better be.” Holden says, climbing to his feet. “Here, help me stand it up.”

They each take an end, carefully pulling the bookcase up from the floor, and guiding it to its spot along the wall. Bill takes a step back to survey the new fixture in his living room. Aside from a few pictures of Brian, there aren’t many personal touches in his house. He’d moved in here a few months after the divorce was finalized, and had never taken the time to decorate. He kept the place clean, but with the amount of traveling they do for work, the house had sat mostly empty for the past few years, looking more like the inside of a home improvement magazine than a lived-in, nurtured space. The simple addition of the bookcase feels revolutionary, but it isn’t just the piece of furniture that’s injecting warmth into this previously cold space.

Bill slips his arm around Holden’s waist, and pulls him to his side.

“It looks good, baby.”

“Yeah, really good.” Holden whispers, resting his head on Bill’s shoulder.

Bill glances down when he hears Holden sniffs, quietly. “Hey, what’s the matter? Don’t tell me you hate it.”

“I don’t. I love it.” Holden says, casting Bill a misty gaze and trembling smile. “It’s what I always wanted.”

Bill gives his lower back a reassuring pat. “Good. How about we put the books up there?”

“Okay.”

Holden drags out the first box with a delicate touch, almost a reverence. He takes out each book, inspecting the spine carefully before arranging them on the shelf. Bill grabs the second box, and starts from the other side of the bookshelf. They meet in the middle after unpacking the sixth and final box. There’s still one empty shelf.

“And room for more.” Bill observes.

“You shouldn’t encourage me.” Holden says, “I have a real problem. I haven’t read half of the books I already have.”

“Why not?”

“Do I seem like a guy with a lot of time on his hands?” Holden asks, running his fingertips along the spines of the books.

“We could make time.” Bill says.

Holden casts him a fond glance. “I would love that.”

“How about drink?” Bill says, climbing to his feet.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Holden lingers by the bookshelf while Bill gets up to retrieve glasses. Among his drink selections is a good bottle of scotch Wendy had bought him when they finished the study. She’d told him to open it on a special occasion. He hadn’t found that moment until now.

Grabbing the scotch and the glasses, Bill goes back into the living room to find Holden sitting cross-legged on the carpet with the Keats book open in his lap.

Bill pours them both a drinks, and offers a glass to Holden. Sitting down on the floor beside Holden, he wraps an arm around him, and peeks over his shoulder at the words on the page.

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.” He reads the first few lines quietly.

Holden glances over at him, a smile quivering on his mouth for a moment before he presses a kiss to Bill’s mouth. When he leans back, he laughs quietly, “I never thought I would hear you read poetry to me.”

“Neither did I.” Bill says, chuckling into his sip of scotch.

He tightens his grasp around Holden’s waist, impressing the warmth of Holden’s body into his mind like some kind of signpost that this moment is real - just as real as precinct after precinct, dead bodies, killers, questions in the dark. And it’s not just the poetry that’s surprising; he never really thought these four walls would feel like a real home. He thought he’d lost that forever.

“Keep going.” Holden whispers.

Bill takes another drink of the scotch to loosen the thickness in his throat before he turns his gaze back to the old words on the page trodding across his mind now as if they were somehow new and radical.

“Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits.”

#bill x holden #mindhunter #my writing #lowkeystandom

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sineala · 5 years

Text

Iron Man: And Call My Killer... MODOK!

So if you're a Marvel Comics fan of any stripe, you're probably aware that Marvel has a longtime history of publishing what they call "prose novels" and what literally any other publisher would just call "novels." You know. Books with only words in them. As opposed to "graphic novels," which is I guess why Marvel needs to make the distinction.

You're probably also aware that a lot of these prose novels are, well... bad. Some of the current ones, the original ones with new stories, have been getting good reviews -- I've heard good things about the Black Widow and Squirrel Girl books -- but a lot of them are just things like "novelizations of Civil War" and those ones are not great. (The MCU Iron Man 1 novelization was pretty good, but I would say that that was one of the few exceptions, and that only because Peter David both can actually write and has also written comic books.)

But a few weeks ago @blossomsinthemist told me that there had been a line of paperback Marvel prose novels way way back in the late seventies, and I was immediately interested for two reasons. One, if it's not novelizing an existing story arc, it's less likely to be terrible. And two, I really like late-seventies Marvel comics. So if I get to read a brand-new (to me) late-seventies story, I'm going to be pretty excited.

(If you're looking for these for yourself, prices vary, because people seem to be really into just having them for collection value, but if you don't care about condition and are patient you can get them for $5 to $10 or so.)

Anyway. I'm starting here with the Iron Man one, And Call My Killer... MODOK! It's from 1979 and is by William Rotsler, who also appears to have written the Doctor Strange novel in this series, and according to Wikipedia, he won four Hugos for Best Fan Artist, though most of his prose work appears to have been SF novelizations, and, uh, he was involved in the making of over two dozen pornographic films? Thanks, Wikipedia!

Right. Okay. The actual book. We are talking about the actual book. So the plot, as you can guess from the title, involves a lot of AIM and MODOK -- and because this is vintage 1970s Iron Man, also a lot of Happy, Pepper and SHIELD. SHIELD here is a lot of Nick Fury and a lot -- hi, again, 1970s -- of Jasper Sitwell. (If you're only familiar with the MCU, 616 Jasper Sitwell is, like, the ultimate Boy Scout SHIELD agent, a giant nerdy stickler for protocol.) Basically, AIM is scheming to get the armor, and the basic plot itself is kind of fun in that respect -- Tony scheming right back, decoy fake plans, a fake auction of the armor, and of course Tony and Happy captured by AIM. There's the requisite fight with an armored villain, of course, and what feels like a very perfunctory showdown with MODOK. (It's not a long novel.)

But since we're in fandom, we're not reading these things for the actual plot content, and so I am happy to say that on a characterization level, if this is the Tony Stark characterization you like in this era of comics, this book is going to make you happy. Because he really is, just... peak, classic Tony Stark. This is established very early on, in what is actually my favorite section of the book. Tony addresses a roomful of students about ecology, and his plans for SI and for the future, and about how he's not actually in it for the money and he just wants to do the right thing and save the world and so on and so forth and he wants to hire some of these kids to help everyone and build space colonies and so on. Similarly, when we first see Tony at SI, there's a paragraph about how he knows his employees' names and values them as people and it's very much classic Tony characterization. I love it.

In terms of canon, I'm not quite sure if this is relying on any particular recent developments in canon. Pepper and Happy are still together, and there's a throwaway line, in the list of Things That Have Happened To Tony's Heart, about how he's had several surgeries and a new heart and at this point in his life he has to wear the chestplate some of the time but not all of the time. I think that whole "weak heart" era is the Michael O'Brien/second Guardsman stuff, but I'm not exactly sure; this is not an era of canon I'm 100% up on in order. That may be a little too early for this, as well. Sorry; I'm not the best at this part of this game.

There is, of course, some identity porn, since what would an Iron Man story be without some good identity porn? There's a section early on where Tony explains why he would never reveal his secret identity. (Literally, he wishes he could "come out of the closet," and, yes, they do put that phrase in quotation marks.) His rationale is that the media would never let him alone, and also there are "Iron Man groupies, publicity seekers, and other assorted crazies" who would make his life miserable.

The weird thing is, then he goes on a date with what seems to be an Iron Man groupie. Pepper sets him up on a date with a woman who is a bellydancer and auto mechanic trying to break into acting. (The even weirder thing is that she seems to be named after a woman the author has coauthored several novels with. I, uh... I hope she knew first?) Anyway, they go on a date and she starts asking him about what Iron Man is like. Now, in a book where the plot appears to be that the bad guys want Tony's armor, I would be a little suspicious of people who were curious about Iron Man. But apparently this woman is on the level and just really likes gossip about famous people, and then at the end of the book when Tony talks about maybe going on another date he seems excited to "give her an opportunity to know Tony Stark." Although, really, she seems to still think Iron Man is cooler, so I don't see this working out well.

(Also, in the course of the plot, he does end up unmasking in front of MODOK, and as cover he comes up with the excuse that he isn't the only Iron Man and that there are a group of them. Which, y'know, historically, isn't even untrue, for a certain view of Tony's behavior -- there have actually been multiple people in the suit before now. So I kind of like Tony's quick thinking there. Amusingly, as he's bluffing his way through this, one of the fake Iron Men he names is Captain America, which honestly I think would make a hell of a fanfiction plot.)

Another weird thing: since this is right before Demon in a Bottle, Tony still drinks. It's not even an issue. And obviously it's meant to show something about his affluent lifestyle (and how he considers alcohol a necessary part of that lifestyle) but it's interesting reading this in retrospect and thinking about all the character development that Tony is basically about to undergo but hasn't yet.

So, yeah, in terms of characterization, this is an interesting look at Tony Stark basically preserved in one of the more-well-regarded eras for him, so on that basis I think it's worth reading. Which is not to say that there aren't some downsides, and since this book is mainstream fiction from the 70s, I bet you can guess what the main one is: namely, there is a certain amount of casual sexism and racism. The first scene takes place on a college campus and there is a lot of, uh, dwelling on co-eds and their short skirts. There is also a retelling of Tony's origin story, and you probably already know that ToS #39 is racist as hell (especially if you have seen non-recolored versions in which Wong Chu is literally yellow in the art) but the prose retelling here manages to add in some racist epithets (many characters are referred to as "the Oriental") which is... disappointing. Neither of these things are really unexpected for a book from 1979. But, you know, there they are. Heads up.

It also makes some weird narrative choices. One is that it has a surprising number of extended flashbacks in which dialogue is taken directly from the comics. I understand that back in the day before trade paperbacks and Marvel Unlimited and back issues whenever you want them, you the Iron Man fan might not have been aware of a lot of Tony's history. So I get why you would want to spend some time going over the events of Tales of Suspense #39. And, okay, Happy is a pretty important character in the plot, so I get why you'd want a lot about their first meeting in Tales of Suspense #45. But then there's a whole flashback devoted to the whole body-horror extravaganza of how MODOK came to be, and that one... that one was just kind of weird, especially because Tony didn't even figure into it.

And that leads me to my final complaint about weird narrative choices, which is the author has chosen to write this book in 3rd person omniscient point of view. I mean, it's a valid POV choice, sure. But it's a little jarring coming from fandom, where we are all basically 3rd limited forever and ever (like, honestly, I'm not even sure I'd know how to write 3rd omni if I tried!), and it's even weirder to read Tony in the middle of one of his inspiring speeches while a female student is thinking about how sexy he is even if he is an "older man." Yeah.

Also, the narration calls him Tony when he's out of the suit and Iron Man when he's in the suit. Consistently. Even when he's thinking about himself. I am pretty sure fandom never does this, and it is weird as hell.

So, overall, I have to say that despite some reservations, I really enjoyed this, and if this is an era of Iron Man canon that you enjoy, you will probably like this if you can get your hands on it, because it's a lot like reading an Iron Man comic from 1979, and the plot shenanigans are amusing. I mean, it's not the best-written book ever, but it is a lot of fun, especially in terms of Tony's characterization.

#posts i actually wrote

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years

Text

Blackbird

Happy birthday, @shireness-says! I have so enjoyed all of our chats during the cssns about our love for the Brothers Jones, Frozen Jewel, and Captain Cobra. You write all of those so well, but I tried to give you some quality Captain Cobra for your birthday nonetheless along with a fic that sums up your love of art and books. I hope you like it and that your day has been awesome! It is of course, based on the Beatles song “Blackbird” which I think both Killian and Emma could relate to.

Summary: Magical Mystery Books is your stereotypical quirky bookstore. Killian Jones, however, is not your typical quirky bookstore owner. Neither are the dark yet beautiful pieces of art that hang over the cash register.

Rating: G

Words: 2,600 and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @kday426 @thislassishooked @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @let-it-raines @distant-rose

Henry was the one who found it; the quirky bookstore called Magical Mystery Books. It was one of those eclectic places with every genre imaginable from out of print gothic hardbacks to bestselling paperbacks to edgy graphic novels. Just like one would expect, it was crowded with volumes from floor to ceiling. Yet contrary to stereotype, it wasn’t messy. The place was not only immaculately clean but organized by genre and carefully alphabetized.

Yet exactly according to stereotype there was also the store owner and his one faithful employee who could find what you were looking for even with a vague description. However, defying stereotype, said store owner was not an eccentric old lady with a cat. Oh no, he was far from that.

Okay, Emma Swan had to admit, maybe slightly eccentric. But he was male and definitely not old. Neither was he a bookish looking fellow with a tweed coat and an awkward stammer. Though he did occasionally whip out a pair of black framed reading glasses.

No, Killian Jones did not look like a book store owner with his leather motorcycle jacket, his pierced ear, and his distractedly tight jeans. The kids loved to come to the book store for the great YA selection and vintage comics. The adults came to ogle the store’s owner. Or perhaps his lone employee Belle with her high heels, fashionable skirts, and perfect, wavy auburn hair.

Emma, however, came for her son. Henry swore that no other store had a better fantasy or sci fi collection, and once Henry had exhausted all of those, Mr. Jones gladly supplied him with more obscure recommendations. Both Jones and Belle adored Henry, a rare ten-year-old who stood in rapt fascination at their collection of original illustrations by Maurice Sendak and E.H. Shepherd which were under glass in the children’s section with a sign that read “not for sale.” They had once belonged to Belle’s mother, a dedicated bibliophile herself. Henry even soaked up stories Belle told about how her mother risked death in a house fire to save the illustrations.

“That boy will be a writer someday,” Killian commented to Emma as he rang up her purchases one afternoon.

The boy in question was poring over an Avengers comic protected by plastic circa 1969. She hoped he had noticed how many digits were on that price tag.

“He certainly has enough notebooks full of stories to publish one day.” Emma couldn’t help the mom brag. She certainly hadn’t expected to luck out with a kid like Henry the day she held that pregnancy test in her trembling hand at nineteen.

“Aye, he’s told me. I said I’d like to read them, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Emma assured Killian, “he won’t let me read them either.”

“Someday perhaps.”

Emma took the bag of paperbacks that hung from Killian’s prosthetic. She had never asked how he lost his left hand; she honestly didn’t know how one went about broaching such subjects. Henry didn’t know either, though Belle had alluded to some sort of accident when Killian was in the navy.

She thanked him, but before she turned to go, she noticed something new hanging above the register. It was mixed media art; a painting combined with some sort of collage technique. It was a dark painting with an outline of a bird done in such muted grays it almost blended into the background. Yet the collage technique gave the bird texture and a sense of movement. A quote was woven through the dark background: “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”

“Beatles?” Emma asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

He smiled at her, but not the cocky one he gave to flirtatious customers. This one was more

genuine. “Know that song?”

Emma smiled in return. “My favorite Beatles song, actually.”

“Mine too.”

Emma shuffled her feet, something about his smile making prickles of nerves skitter across the back of her neck. “Well, I guess I see why you liked the painting then. And it makes the bookstore name make more sense. Then again you are British . . . “

She trailed off when she realized she was rambling.

“Ah, and all British people must like the Beatles.”

“Well, no, I mean – I didn’t mean -”

He laughed and waved his hand to dismiss her discomfort. “No offense taken, love.”

Face burning, Emma grabbed Henry and left as quickly as she could. It was easier when he focused all his attention on her son.

******************************************************

Henry had gotten to that age when he was suddenly harder to buy for. Most kids his age wanted electronics, and while she had saved up for a video game system last Christmas, most stuff was out of her price range. Thank God her kid liked books.

Of course, figuring out what he would like and what he hadn’t already read wasn’t easy. Hence why she was at Magical Mystery Books while Henry was at school. It wasn’t until she turned down an aisle to find Killian Jones with his ass literally in her face that it occurred to her she’d never been here without her son as a buffer. Jones was atop a rolling ladder shelving books on the top shelf, hence why his ass was at eye level. She noticed a bit of his abs as his shirt hitched up, and she averted her gaze as her cheeks burned. What was her problem? It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man’s . . . er, assets before.

Emma took a few steps back before clearing her throat to announce her presence. When he turned and saw her, he gave her that same grin again. The one that made his laugh lines crinkle and his cheeks dimple. The one that made her skin buzz like a live wire.

“Emma! It’s nice to see you here at this time of day. Let me guess, you’re looking for a gift for your lad.”

Emma arched her brows. “How’d you know that?”

He shrugged as he turned and headed down the sci fi aisle. “Well, time of day, plus Henry mentioned he had a birthday coming up.” He stopped, ran his fingertip along the bindings before him, then pulled out a slender volume.

“A Wrinkle in Time?” Emma asked incredulously.

Killian nodded. “He said he’d never read it because it’s a ‘girl’s book’.”

Emma had to giggle at his eye roll and air quotes.

“I told him he’d miss out on way too many books with that narrow mindset.”

Emma’s brow wrinkled, unsure. “But the movie sucked.”

Killian staggered backwards, his hand to his heart. “Swan please, my heart can’t take it.”

Emma shook her head, laughing fully now. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re melodramatic?”

“Constantly,’ he told her with a wink.

Killian rang up A Wrinkle in Time along with another selection he said Henry had been eyeing last time he was there. It was something from the late 50s called Have Space Suit – Will Travel and had a cover that looked awfully sci-fi theater kitschy to Emma, but she decided to trust Killian’s suggestions. After all, when it came to this fantasy and sci-fi stuff, Emma was completely lost.

Emma paused once again when taking her bag. A new painting was above the cash register, in the same mixed media genre as the previous one. It was still mostly dark and featured a textured bird, yet this time there was a tiny ray of bright colors in the top right corner. The bird’s wings were outstretched this time, one of them bent and crooked. This time the words “Take these broken wings and learn to fly” seemed to stretch towards the light. It took Emma’s breath away. Without tearing her eyes away from it, she spoke to Killian.

“It’s . . . sad, but beautiful.”

“Aye,” he told her softly as he gave her the receipt, “some of the most breathtaking things are a little sad. Wouldn’t you say?”

She looked away from the painting and into his sparkling blue eyes, and she had the strangest feeling they were talking about two different things.

As she took the receipt, her eyes were drawn to his prosthetic and she realized – the bird’s left wing was the one that was broken.

******************************************************

Emma was tucked into a leather wingback chair in the romance section of Magical Mystery Books (something Killian had already teased her about, to which she had retorted that it was either this or force her hips into the bright yellow Curious George chair in the children’s section) answering one last email for work. She could hear Killian and Henry having a heated debate in the YA lit section.

“- but there should be hope after a writer puts you through all that pain!”

“But dystopian lit is about commenting on social ills, is it not? Her whole point was the senselessness of war,” Killian retorted.

Emma shook her head and smiled as she hit send on her email.

“But saving Prim was supposed to be the whole point!”

Emma frowned. Henry had taken the ending of that trilogy way too hard. So hard it had worried her a little. She kicked herself now for letting him read them; he was probably too young.

“And thus the senseless part.” Killian always interacted with Henry with the utmost respect, never talking down to him.

“I still threw that third book against the wall,” she heard Henry mutter.

Killian laughed heartily. “Aye, I confess I did too. And not just over Prim.”

“Finn?”

“God yes, that pissed me off.”

She heard both of them grumbling in agreement at Suzanne Collin’s plot choices, and a huge smile broke out on her face. She pushed herself off the chair and headed towards them. Henry was perched on a stool, a notebook in his lap as he scribbled with a pencil. Killian was next to him shelving books from a cart.

“Hey, Mom! This book report on Mockingjay is going to be so good thanks to Killian.” Henry shot him a glance. “Even though we sort of disagree a little.”

“On the contrary,” Killian countered, ruffling her son’s hair. If it made her ovaries quiver, that was only because she’d been a single mom for ten years. Ten long years. “I happen to agree wholeheartedly. I was just trying to help you see another point of view.”

“Ready kid?” Emma asked as her son stuffed his notebook into his backpack.

“Yeah, Mom.”

Emma frowned as she watched Killian make his way behind the counter. “I’m sorry we just came here to bug you for homework help. We didn’t even buy anything.”

Killian leaned his arms on the counter, and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off how his muscles filled out his button-down shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing the dark hair on his arms as well as where his left arm met his prosthetic hand. Emma wondered if it ever made him self-conscious. She hoped it didn’t, at least not around them.

“Anything for my best customers,” he told them, winking at Emma.

Her eyes flickered nervously away from his, and that was when she saw the newest painting. “All your life you were merely waiting for this moment to be free” it said this time. The work, part painting and part collage, was still dark like the other two, but the light in the right corner was bigger. But the most striking part was that the blackbird was no longer alone, there was now a white bird in the painting as well, and the collage work on it was breathtaking, as if it really had feathers.

“It’s a swan.”

Emma’s gaze swung to meet Killian’s. His eyes were searching her face intently, and suddenly the breath left her lungs. Without another word, she grabbed Henry by the arm and hurried them both from the bookstore.

*******************************************************

Emma hadn’t realized how often they had been going to the bookstore until she suddenly could no longer face its owner. Three weeks had passed, and Henry was now almost daily asking to go to Magical Mystery Books the second she picked him up from school. And every single time, she gave him a flimsy excuse not to.

“What did Killian do?” Henry finally demanded.

“What in the world are you talking about kid?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Please, Mom. That has to be it. Did he try to kiss you or something?”

Emma almost collided with the car in front of her. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

Henry shrugged. “Because he likes you.”

Emma had no idea what to say as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I wouldn’t mind you know,” Henry finally said. “If you dated him, I mean.”

Emma blinked in shock at her son.

“When did you get so smart?”

He grinned in a way that he definitely picked up from Killian. “When I started hanging out at a bookstore.”

*************************************************

Emma marched into Magical Mystery Books the next morning and headed right to the front counter. Killian was there doing something at the register, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Whether that was because he hadn’t seen her in over three weeks or because she looked like a woman on some kind of mission, she wasn’t sure.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she scrutinized the painting over his shoulder. The dark background in this one was now littered with stars, the blackbird swooping down through them, straining towards a white swan that floated on a pond with a glittering reflection of the stars upon their surface. Her (she assumed it was a female swan, anyway) neck was bent away from the blackbird. “Into the light of the cold dark night” it said.

“Did you paint those?”

She saw Killian’s adam’s apple bob as if he wasn’t sure if she was asking or beginning an interrogation, but he lifted his gaze to meet hers anyway.

“Aye.”

She nodded. “Okay then.”

He yelped when she yanked him over the counter towards her, and his eyes were still opened when she crashed her lips into his. Soon, however, he was kissing her back, his hand threading her hair, his tongue seeking entrance. She gave it to him, her own hands releasing his shirt front to find their way into his hair. It was hungry and frantic, with teeth clashing and lips bruising. She started to pull back, only to dive in for more again. She was half tempted to scramble over the counter, his kiss so intoxicating it made her want every part of him. Finally, they were both panting, foreheads pressed together.

“That - “ he gasped.

“Would have been a lot better without this stupid counter between us.”

He laughed as he traced her jaw, but then his blue eyes went a shade darker with lust. “Then get over here,” he growled.

In his next painting, the blackbird was floating in the water, the swan’s neck bent over his.

Blackbird fly into the light of the dark black night.

#cs ff #cs modern au #killian as a bookstore owner #killian as an artist #captain cobra #fandom birthday playlist #for shireness-says

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2020 Hay Festival goes online

The 2020 Hay Festival has launched a free digital festival, which is online until 31 May. The festival features novelists Hilary Mantel, Anne Enright, Elif Shafak, Roddy Doyle, Margaret Atwood, Ingrid Persaud, Polly Samson, Ali Smith and Jessie Burton; actors and comedians Stephen Fry, Helena Bonham Carter, Dominic West, Sandi Toksvig, Vanessa Redgrave, Benedict Cumberbatch, Helen McCrory and Jonathan Pryce; and many more.

In honour of our favourite literary festival, we asked a host of speakers and literary lights, “What’s your favourite place to visit in Britain and why?” Here are their responses.

Martin Shaw, author of Courting the Wild Twin (Chelsea Green Publishing, hardback RRP £14.99)

I’m lucky, the place I most love to visit is the place I live, Dartmoor National Park. Dartmoor is amok with 365 square miles of granite tors, swamp, old growth oak forest and staggering views right out over to the grey teeth of the sea near Teignmouth. Be warned, it’s prone to mood swings, and the petrol gauge has a nasty habit of hitting empty at dusk. It has proper, unbridled spook. There’s a pub (the Warren Inn) whose fire hasn’t gone out since the 19th Century, and contains beer as dark and chewy as the inevitable storm overhead.

Brigit Strawbridge-Howard, author of Dancing with Bees (Chelsea Green Publishing, paperback RRP £10.99)

I fell in love with Northumberland on a school field trip, when I was just 13 years old. From the youth hostel in Wooler (still there today), we walked and picnicked in the Cheviots, travelled by boat to the Inner Farnes, and spent a glorious sunny afternoon exploring the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. I have returned since with my husband, my children and my grandchildren, and loved each and every visit. Northumberland has everything: history, walls, puffins, hares, romance, vast empty beaches and skies, castles, hills, rivers, rocks, and wild open spaces where you can breathe, and feel fully and completely alive. Definitely my favourite place in Britain to visit!

Lara Maiklem, author of Mudlarking (Bloomsbury, paperback RRP £9.99)

My favourite place to visit is a village on the Kent coast called St Margaret’s-at-Cliffe. It was my escape from London for years, I wrote part of my book here, and I have good memories of it. There is a small pebbly beach, which is perfect for seaweed collecting and pebble hunting, and a pub with views over the Channel to France, which is tantalisingly close. The walk from St Margaret’s Bay, over the white cliffs to Dover, is dramatic and moving. It is the front door of the nation, so as well as a sense of end there is also a feeling of welcome and beginning.

David Abulafia, author of The Boundless Sea (Allen Lane, hardback RRP £35)

Credit: Marit Hommedal/SCANPIX

I live in (and prefer) Cambridge, so to say that my favourite place to visit is Oxford might sound like a predictable answer. But it is the difference between the cities rather than their similarity that draws me to Oxford. The palatial grandeur of Radcliffe Square and the nearby colleges and libraries is not matched in Cambridge; nor does Cambridge make nearly as much use of the honey-coloured stone that is one of Oxford’s glories. And North Oxford, with its massive villas, parks and riverside walks, is a different and delightful world away from the crowds.

Miranda Krestovnikoff, author of The Sea (Bloomsbury Children’s, hardback RRP £12.99)

I love the island of Skomer, especially in May where it is washed with indigo as the bluebells emerge. This is also the season to see the puffins – characterful birds with rainbow-coloured beaks, who always seem to be in a hurry. They nest in old rabbit burrows, the same pair nesting in each burrow year after year. Standing in amongst them, you are surrounded by wheeling birds coming in to feed their newly hatched chicks or pufflings, closely followed by marauding black-backed gulls looking for an easy meal. At night, the nocturnal Manx shearwaters return to the island – tens of thousands of them. Poorly adapted to life on land, they land clumsily before waddling to the safety of their burrows. The sights and sounds of such huge numbers of these and many other seabirds is a real wildlife spectacle.

Jackie Morris, author of The Unbinding (Unbound, coming soon)

Credit: Davina Jelle

Two places draw my heart back. Both revolve around bookshops.

The first is Dulverton in Somerset, tucked into steep wooded valleys, where the trees colour the land, bird filled and raucous with rooks. Number Seven is the smallest of shops but so filled with beauty, it’s a real haven.

The second is Grasmere, where I swam in the lake that mirrored the hills. Where a heron in flight almost touched wing tips to fingers. Where I sat beneath a beech tree drinking lavender tea in Faeryland, talking of swans. Where Sam Read books has shelves filled with wonder.

Oliver Bullough, author of Moneyland (Profile Books, paperback RRP £9.99)

I love wild bits of the British coastline, whether that’s northern Norfolk and the seals of Blakeney Point, or Jura and the crazed waters of the Corryvreckan, or the fossil beaches of Robin Hood’s Bay. For me, the best of the lot is the coastline of northern Pembrokeshire and Ceredigion, from Strumble Head, past the Teifi Estuary (with lunch at the market in St Dogmaels), on to Mwnt – with its gem of a chapel, and its tiny beach – and along to Penbryn beach. It’s as good as Cornwall, with a fraction of the crowds.

Stephen Moss, author of The Accidental Countryside (Guardian Faber Publishing, hardback RRP £16.99)

I just need to pop down the road from my Somerset home, to the Avalon Marshes. These former peat diggings, within sight of Glastonbury Tor, have been restored as nature reserves, and are now one of the best places in Britain for birds. In winter, they are home to the famous starling murmuration, and watching these huge flocks as they form patterns against the setting sun is simply unforgettable. In spring and summer, the marshes echo to the sound of warblers, newly returned from their African winter-quarters, while great white and cattle egrets, and the secretive bittern, feed amongst the reeds and pools.

Gavin Francis, author of Island Dreams (Canongate, hardback RRP £20)

As a boy my holidays would be to campsites of Fife’s coast; at night, as I drifted off to sleep, I’d watch the lighthouse on the May Island and dream of reaching it. In the Middle Ages its chapel was a place of pilgrimage; the whole island is now a National Nature Reserve and home to thousands of puffins, auks and gulls. In my twenties, finally, I went there as a volunteer nature warden, and the beauty and tranquillity of those weeks, the simplicity and the satisfactions of living and working there, have been a touchstone for me ever since.

Joseph Coehlo, poet and author of Poems Aloud (Wide Eyed Editions, hardback RRP £12.99)

I’m a huge fan of antique shops and Rye has a tonne of them, I believe around 50 odd. So Rye is perfect for exploring and getting lost and perhaps finding some treasure, or at the very least some lovely tea and cakes. Nearby Winchelsea is also very much worth a visit for the Parish of Winchelsea and its associated ruins. When you’re done with the ruins and antique shops and had tea and cake, the sea isn’t too far away for a paddle.

Mark Haddon, author of The Porpoise (Vintage, paperback RRP £8.99)

Very possibly the Pembrokeshire coastal path from Tenby to Abereiddy or thereabouts, excluding the Milford Haven oil refinery but very much including Skomer and Ramsay Islands. Running sections of it, early on a clear winter morning before everyone else is up and about is a particularly glorious thing to do. Sometimes, if I’m feeling cabined and confined, I will walk a section on Google Street View and even that makes my heart lift and swell.

Jenny Valentine, author of Hello Now (HarperCollins Publishers, paperback RRP £7.99)

I live in the landscape of the Black Mountains in Wales, rich and green, full of light and open spaces, so my favourite place to visit in the UK, for contrast, is my old home, London. I miss crowds and strangers and movement and Art and noise and restaurants and traffic and Film and conversation and histories on that kind of scale. I love the pace of it, the flow and mess and heart and guts. From Hackney to Southbank to Hampstead Heath, as a guest in the city there is always something to see, something to learn, something to get involved in.

Allie Esiri, author of Shakespeare for Every Day of the Year (Pan Macmillan, hardback RRP £18.99)

If you have never been, you may know the north coast of Cornwall as the backdrop to Poldark moodily riding his horse across the cliff tops. The area is protected by the National Trust and is largely uninhabited save for the odd flock of handsome sheep. If you take a boat out you can see the old smugglers’ coves where pirates – as the storylines of Poldark often plundered – used to smuggle in their illicit loot. I love the cliffs, the coves and the beaches and you have to stop me quoting from Kipling’s poem, ‘A Smuggler’s Song’.

If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,

Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,

Them that asks no questions they isn’t told a lie.

Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark—

With brandy for the Parson and ‘baccy for the Clerk.

Laces for a lady and letters for a spy,

And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Running round the woodlump if you chance to find

Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine;

Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use ’em for your play;

Put the brushwood back again,—and they’ll be gone next day!

If you see the stable-door setting open wide;

If you see a tired horse lying down inside;

If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;

If the lining’s wet and warm—don’t you ask no more!

If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red,

You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.

If they call you “pretty maid”, and chuck you ‘neath the chin,

Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been!

Knocks and footsteps round the house—whistles after dark—

You’ve no call for running out until the house-dogs bark.

Trusty’s here, and Pincher’s here, and see how dumb they lie—

They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!

If you do as you’ve been told, likely there’s a chance

You’ll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,

With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood—

A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good!

Five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark—

Brandy for the Parson, ‘baccy for the Clerk.

Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie—

So watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Explore highlights from past editions at hayfestival.org/hayplayer

The post 2020 Hay Festival goes online appeared first on Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture.

Britain Magazine | The official magazine of Visit Britain | Best of British History, Royal Family,Travel and Culture https://www.britain-magazine.com/features/hay-festival-authors-describe-their-favourite-spots-in-britain/

source https://coragemonik.wordpress.com/2020/05/20/2020-hay-festival-goes-online/

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