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#there is that nice enough for you. ffs. shut the fuck up forever now.
nerdepic · 1 year
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do as miku says
⚠️THIS IS ABOUT COPYING AND PASTING URLS, NOT GOOGLE OR EZGIF OR AO3 ETC⚠️🚫🚫
don't send this ugly link:
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when this works:
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don't paste this ugly shit:
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when this works:
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⚠️IF THE LINK WORKS AFTER REMOVING THE EXCESS AFTER THE ? - REMOVE IT!⚠️
⚠️if it doesn't work, it's not tracking. use common sense. broken URL? this meme don't work. URL still work after "?" shite removed? Remove it from links.⚠️
this extension does this for you: github.com/ClearURLs/Addon
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winter-literature · 10 months
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Deadman's Stand In
A Given Fan Fiction
Okay, so I have been extremely sick this week and watched Given and read the manga and have not yet recovered from the intense level of angst I feel from this show. So I wrote a fanfiction to help me deal with some of my unresolved feelings.
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Summary:
Post anime, within the final chapters of the Manga.
Uenoyama deals with the fact that he doesn’t feel like his own person. His friendships and relationship currently revolve around him being a shadow of who Yuki used to be.
This FF focuses on Uneoyama's hurt that I didn't feel were acknowledged enough. The feelings of inadequacy, of being second strung, and just so fucking hurt that you can’t figure out what to do because the person you love won’t talk to you and… who do you have left?
Charcoal clouds covered the night sky, their dull grey reflected in glacier blue eyes. If he stared intently enough, perhaps he’d see the reminiscent twinkle of a far off star. 
His forlorn sigh fogged up the glass before him. With a click of his tongue he let out a wry laugh. The irony of the ghost-like image was not lost on his train of thoughts. Blowing on the glass, he enlarged the opaquing white. 
Before he wrote his message onto glass, his phone started buzzing once again. Dejected, he decided he should finally answer it. 
“Dude, are you okay?” Haruki forever played the role of band mother. 
“I was just about to head to bed. Why?” Uenoyama forced his throat to swallow the growl that was clawing at the surface.
“This new song… it… are you and Mafuyu… okay?” 
Uenoyama knew that the first line of worry would be the band. It was his and Mafuyu’s promise going into it, of course. They knew there would be problems, but they’d get through them together. Or, so he thought.
The reality, though, is everytime Uenoyama struggles, with himself or in the relationship, Mafuyu pulls away. He doesn’t know where to turn to, who to talk to. All of his friends are Mafuyu’s friends now too, and they might be even worse, at times.
“We’re the same as last week.” Uenoyama squeaked his finger through the lingering blur of white. “As far as I know, at least.” 
“I’m just saying… this song… it’s, it’s amazing!” 
Uenoyama could practically see Haruki frantically waving his hands, as if his own words had lit a fire before his face.
“Were you and Akihiko able to layer your parts then?” Uenoyama assumed that they would organize it together. They basically lived and breathed each other, Uenoyama doubted Haruki even hit play before sharing an earbud with his boyfriend. It must be nice to be connected to someone like that. 
“Oh, uh, Akihiko is working on his part right now… but it’s… do you think Mafuyu will want to sing to this beat? Isn’t it usually, um, backwards? From how you guys usually do it? Has he started his la-la-la’s and udon noo-oodles yet?” 
“It can be a demo or an extra track. I don’t… I don’t really want him to know about this one, okay?” Uenoyama clenched his eyes shut, the reality blinding. “At least not until it’s done.”
“NO! You two aren’t breaking up are you? What happened?! I told you this would happen! Ugh what were we thinking?” His voice trailed to a muffled mumble.
“We’re the same as last week, I already told you.” Uenoyama breathed against the window pane to reanimate his colouring board. 
“You both seem off…” 
“Are you coming to my show?” Uenoyama diverted courses. He didn’t want to talk about his relationship anymore. A part of him hoped he could actually just discuss music with Haruki, but nothing’s ever quite that easy. 
“Yeah, of course.” There was a distant sadness that carried through the phone. 
“Is Mafuyu coming with you?” Uenoyama cursed his chest for the sudden spike in his heart rate.
He always held onto the hope that Mafuyu would come, would take initiative to mend what keeps falling into oblivion. 
“Oh, I - uh - I don’t know?”
But he never does.
“Wouldn’t you know, Uenoyama?”
Because as much as Mafuyu sees fragments of his reflection. 
“Hello?”
Uenoyama can never be Yuki.
-
Tears dotted the page as he focused on the missing pieces. Of course Hiiragi would ask him to finish the song. He has the one piece that the others don’t. 
He’s writing about the man he loves.
From the inspiration of a lost soul. 
Uenoyama might have been able to say no, but he didn’t want to risk losing this gig. In reality, probably the only reason they brought him on was because of his relationship with Mafuyu. They’ve told him between jokes and sets how much he reminds them of Yuki.
So he keeps his head down. And he keeps writing. It’s not hard to see what Yuki saw in him. His sparkling eyes that soak in the world around him. So fragile yet so insurmountable at the same time. He just wishes that the first time he brought these words to paper, they could really be played from his heart. 
Instead they go through the filter of what Yuki would have thought. How he would have sang. 
Uenoyama spent countless hours researching the man and the music. 
Mafuyu only ever looks at Uenoyama like that when he plays guitar.
Those must be the moments he’s most reminded of Yuki.
-
No matter the season, the sun basks through the windows, warming the platform of the stairs. Uenoyama collapses towards the surface, his body starting to fail him. His brain is fogged, his movements languid, even his breath is raspy. 
The crashing descent from his knees to his hips, to his chest, is barely noticed as his body lingers in the first stage of sleep.
His brain has been on overdrive, writing Yuki’s love song. Part of him hopes that Mafuyu will hear it and finally see Uenoyama through the shards. But that doubt fuelled the rhythm of the song in Haruki’s possession. 
In all likelihood, it was the blend of writing, waiting, and unyielding loneliness that created the concoction of his exhausted state. Not the added half an hour cramming for the test that he’d told himself it was.
As his mind fell deeper into sleep, he could hear Mafuyu’s laugh. Uenoyama squinted to make out the words that started to leave his lips. The sentence was distorted, but the message was clear. ‘I love you’. 
Uenoyama woke in a jolt of sweat, his breath whistling out of his throat. 
“Are you okay?” The voice was as distorted as his vision as tears fell without regard, while his chest heaved in rhythm. “Uenoyama? R-Ritsuka?”
Mayfuyu’s voice sliced through the delirium. 
Uenoyama assumed he must still be dreaming. Sobbing, he dropped his forehead to the ground, and let the pain fall through him. Down to his very toes. Everything hurt.
A gentle hand stroked his hair, but it didn’t stop the pain. Somehow, the realization that this was reality, only made the pain worse.
Is love always this lonely? 
-
I walk the path paved for someone else
Echoes 
Of adoration and laughter
Beloved by all 
Echoes of scars
Against my skin 
Echoes of lips
Stained by tears 
I live as a dead man’s stand in 
“Wh-what is this?” Mafuyu looked up from his phone screen. 
Uenoyama’s brow furrowed as he looked up at his boyfriend then back to Haruki, who’s face set ablaze.
“What?” Uenoyama’s back straightened, as if he already knew the answer. He was carefully setting his guitar beside him, preparing for a fight, a cry, or simply to escape.
“I’m sorry, I - oh no.” Haruki’s voice turned to gravel as he muffled his lips into the palm of his hand.
“Is this… is this how you feel, Uenoyama?” Mafuyu’s eyes teared, his fingers trembled around his phone. 
“I- I’m so sorry!” Uenoyama collapsed to his knees, but Mafuyu was already leaving.
Whenever Mafuyu left it felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest. But how can you lose someone you never truly had?
-
The spotlights burned his skin as the crowd roared. He prayed that Mafuyu was there. Maybe then he’d understand. He poured his soul into Yuki’s song. For Mafuyu could have his goodbye… so that Mafuyu could have another moment with the one he loved.
Sweat beaded down Uenoyama’s brow as his heart lit aflame. Nothing else mattered. At this moment, on stage, he let out every sour emotion and fragment of dread to burn under the stage lights.
-
Mafuyu ran backstage, headed directly to Uenoyama who slouched happily in his seat. Before Uenoyama could react to the rehead’s presence, Mafuyu gripped the man’s collar in his fist and yelled a proclamation towards him. “I want to sing! And make music with you!”
Uenoyama’s heart pounded in his ears. Did this mean he forgave him? Or was it a shadow of feelings left lingered from Yuki’s song?
“For the rest of my life!” Mafuyu added, the words louder than the amps had been during Uenoyama’s show. 
“Huh?” Uenoyama was lost for words. The battle of mediocrity played in his head as Mafuyu stared into him. Was he honestly seeing him? 
“I promise.” Mafuyu’s grip continued to twist at Uenoyama’s black shirt.
“Sorry… come again?” Uenoyama stammered; he couldn’t comprehend the reasoning behind Mafuyu’s actions. Was he forgiving Uenoyama? Was he apologizing for the distance? Why can’t anything just be clear?!
“I will never let you regret it!” 
The collar on Uenoyama’s shirt threatened to strangle him.
Mafuyu’s eyes were intense, his chest heaving while he kept his face inches from Uenoyama’s. 
“Hold it right there!” Hiiragi screamed. “You… what do you think you’re doing in someone’s dressing room dropping - like - a proposal?” 
Uenoyama met Mafuyu’s weeping eyes. For once, he truly believed, they only saw him. 
“You came.” Uenoyama ignored Hiiragi, speaking to Mafuyu with soft words. His hands worked of their own accord, reaching out for Mafuyu.
“Of course, of course I did.” Tears ran freely as Mafuyu held Uenoyama’s hand against his flushed cheek. 
Biting his own lip, Uenoyama struggled with his own emotional eruption. Mafuyu rarely ever cried off stage. Yet…
“Thank you.” Uenoyama whispered, brushing kisses against shuddering lips as he pulled Mafuyu onto his lap.
“Why? Why did you do that to yourself? Why’d you finish Yuki’s song?” Mafuyu’s voice was hoarse as he fired questions between kisses.
“Because he would have wanted you to hear it.” Uenoyama’s floodgate broke. His tears flowed without regard while his thumb caressed those of his partners.
“You… you…” Mafuyu stammered, drowning under his own tears.
Concerned glacier eyes sparkled under crystal lakes towards Mafuyu, who offered a half smirk in return. He couldn’t respond, instead, the redhead wrapped his legs around Uenoyama as they pushed their foreheads together.
Salty tears of heartache, forgiveness, and understanding.
Tears that belonged to just them. 
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Feels like part 7
Niall Horan x Y/n swift
i know i haven't updated in a looooong while but here you go!
hope you like it!
Story Masterlist
In todays shit show: " It better not be something stupid like, don't bully harry or something" "I'm calling the police on you"
family chat: we share genes
Andy - Andrea
Woody - Taylor
Buzz lightyear - Scott
Bo peep - Austin
Forky - y/n
Andy: y/n remember to pack sunscreen
Forky: There is literally no sun there. It's like forever winter
Buzz Lightyear: Taylor, forever winter is a nice song title.
Woody: right!
Forky: ffs its about ME now
Andy: then why don't you pack it?
Forky: cuz I don't need it
Andy: you do you really do your skin starts to crisp up and then there's sun burns and rashes and then diana and I will have to FaceTime so that I can tell her how to remove them
Forky: FINE FINE ILL PACK IT
Woody: mom always gets her way, idk how but she just does
Bo peep: oh yeah
Forky: Hello TrAiToR
Bo peep: I didn't even do anything now
Bo peep: I'm literally in bed all day like a sick person
Woody: which Is a really unhealthy lifestyle you know
Forky: your not the sick person
I'm sick
Sick of your bullshit
Andy: Y / N!!!!! CONTROL THE FUCKING LANGUAGE
Forky: hypocrites
Forky: YOU TEXTED OLIVIA ABT THAT!
Buzz Lightyear: Son, She is too young for you.
Woody: ffs
Bo peep: i wanted to get revenge
Forky: for what??
Woody: you have to be kidding me
Andy: what tell olivia about what
Bo peep : lemme think, the relentless bullying maybe?
Andy: TELL ME NOW
Forky: I do that put of love
Woody: sure yes plausible
ANDY : you have 3 seconds to tell Me
123 go
Woody: y/n's been talking to her crush niall
Andy: horan?
Forky: yeah....don't make a big deal
Andy: fin fucking ly
Forky: what even is that word?
......................................
messages
The Lads
Public enemy - harry
mother hen - Liam
Zippy - zayn
Lola - louis
Irish princess- niall
God - y/n
God : hey yall are invited to my house warming party in my new london aprtment
Public enemy : you seem chipper
Zippy: something is wrong
mother hen: Im confident this text was only sent here to subtly invite niall
Public enemy: lets be honest he's the only one if us you like
Irish princess: I dont mind that
God : *le gasp* UNTRUE
Lola :YEAH!
Lola :Your just jealous
God : TELL EM LOU
Zippy : AGAIN, disturbing as hell
Lola :ALSO just to rub i got a proper invite in the mail btw
Lola : while you got a crappy text
mother hen: WHERE'S MY INVITE???
God : Your? My? parent? you ? don't? need? one?
mother hen: oh yeah i forgot abt that
God : s'cool
Irish princess: I have a condition
God: what?
God : It better not be something stupid like, don't bully harry or something
Public enemy : can you not
Irish princess: I get added to the super super super cool groupchat you have
God: the one with no harry?
Public enemy: Im calling the police on you
Irish princess: yeah that one
God : sure thing
God has added Irish princess to a group chat
group name : Y/n stop threatening to take out Shawn's kneecaps
zendaya
Diane
Taylor
claudia
billie
Conan
louis
millie bobby brown
Ryan reynolds
Selena gomez
Ed sheeran
Shawn mendes
Lou: NOOOOOO
Niall: Thanks mate
Selena: He's just having his daily barbie doll fit
Lou: fuck off Gomez
Selena: No u
Lou: No u
Diana: TIS I
Diana: OH WELL WELL WELL , MR. NIALL JAMES HORAN
Selena: No u
Lou: No u
Niall: Miss/mr Unkown Number
Diana: WHAT INTENTIONS DO YOU HAVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND WHO PPL SHIP US TOGETHER?????
Niall: hi Diana
Shawn: tf howd you know
Selena: No u
Ed: more importantly, ppl ship them?
Billie: I do
Claudia: i do
Zendaya: yess totally, have you been living under a rock
Millie: its all on the comments of her YouTube channel, spaghetti princess
Ryan: Seriously man, GET ON OUR LEVEL!!!!
Y/n: wtf, you got viewers chubby!
Diana: ENOUGH PLAY
Diana: I ASKED YOU A QUESTION MISTER HORAN
Lou: No u
Diana: SHUT THE FUCK UP BOTH OF YOU
Conan: *gasp*
Ryan: You awakened the beast, she finally cursed.
Niall: Im jared 19 and i never fucking learnt how to read
Diana: A MEME MAN? I ACCEPT THIS RELATIONSHIP
Y/n: wasn't really your s to decide but
Diana: I SAID I ACCEPT IT, HAG.
zendaya: moving on.....
Niall: ah yes, what is the name of the chat?
Selena: Oh yeah Shawn said something
Shawn: which was completely justified
Y/n: your on thin fucking ice buddy
Claudia: and as you can imagine Y/n resorted to threatening....
Ed: we're not even scared for shawn at this point
Shawn: come on ed i thought you were on my side
Ed : IT WOULD BE A SUICIDE MISSION TO BE ON YOUR SIDE!
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Janis & Jude
Janis: How did it go?
Jude: how you said it was gonna
Janis: Do you want one of us to come home or would you rather be alone?
Janis: At least you were prepared
Jude: I’ve put you out enough, have already done & am gonna do for the foreseeable, I’m good
Janis: That doesn’t mean you should go without now
Janis: If it’s what you need, just say so
Janis: What did they say?
Jude: they’ll both be up for taking an arm if you & dad wanna grab a leg & drag me down the clinic
Janis: no one’s gonna force you to do anything
Janis: you can’t have expected any other reaction?
Jude: I’m not as thick as this makes me look or feel
Janis: I know you aren’t
Janis: I guess it feels weird that no one’s celebrating with you, on some deep-down uncontrollable level
Janis: You tell me, that’s how it seemed to me when Grace thought she was pregnant when we were teens
Jude: I just thought everyone cared about me more than this, me, not the mistake I made & how it’s gonna fuck everything up & how fast it can be sorted so it can be like it didn’t happen
Jude: Jess is only bothered it might make headlines & Jac doesn’t even see me in this, just that she did the right thing & so should I, as if there’s 0 difference between me & her
Janis: They do care about you
Janis: That just doesn’t look the way you would like, or expected it to
Janis: They’re just terrified for you, we all are
Jude: they’re not coming back for summer & it’s not just Jess’ birthday, she don’t wanna come back ever
Jude: if Jac’s so worried why am I dead to her?
Janis: You aren’t even off ‘til the end of July, there’s time
Janis: That’s why it made sense to do this now, you have to give that time and space
Janis: They’re giving you it too, but for the opposite reason
Janis: I would have done the exact same thing, she’s showing she’s serious, that this is
Janis: Arguing if it’s right or not is irrelevant, the more she punishes you, the more she’s hoping you’ll change your mind on this
Jude: You didn’t hear her
Jude: it’s gonna be worse than it was before, if I don’t change my mind I don’t have a sister anymore & if I do I don’t have a baby anymore
Janis: I know your sister, I know you all
Janis: Just because she made it sound that way, or outright said it, doesn’t mean it’s true
Janis: not that pointing that out would do you any favours
Janis: I’ve been there, even as much as I thought I hated Rio at times, or as much as I really might’ve
Janis: you can’t just erase people from your life, especially not family, not easily
Janis: Look how long dad’s dad lingered around, and that was a more mutual decision
Jude: but she literally did erase me for 2 years & even though she’s been gone, this is the closest we’ve been
Jude: I just got her back
Janis: Erasing yourself is different to erasing other people, even if it feels the same being one of those people
Janis: you have to remember that was about her and how she felt
Janis: It is hurtful, but it wasn’t because you did anything wrong
Jude: now I have though
Janis: In her eyes or yours or both?
Jude: in everyone’s
Jude: dad can’t even look at me rn
Janis: It’ll change
Janis: I’m not going to say get easier, it’ll be different kinds of hard
Jude: You’re all acting like I’m going about celebrating, I didn’t want this to happen either, not like this & not now
Janis: It’s difficult to get it out of your head that there aren’t other options for you, when there technically are, that’s all
Janis: None of us wants to think of you doing something you don’t want to do
Janis: It would be as uncomfortable if you did have a termination, this isn’t a nice thing that has happened
Jude: None of you think I can or should raise a kid
Jude: maybe you’re all right & I shouldn’t bother trying
Janis: It’s your decision, I’m not going to tell you what to do either way
Janis: you’ll do what you need to do
Jude: it’s not a decision I can make with the whole family against me, Toby couldn’t bail fast enough
Janis: We aren’t against you
Janis: But you have to be the one to make the final call
Janis: we’re all just waiting for that
Janis: we can’t really support you more than that
Jude: Yeah you are, it’s obvious what you & dad want
Jude: it was different with Bobby, Cammie’s mum decided & he didn’t get a proper say, not unless he was gonna bail too
Jude: my decision is MY decision & when you all reckon I’ve made the wrong call it’ll be held over my head forever
Janis: It won’t, Jude
Janis: We’re just not happy about this, but neither are you, so can you blame us?
Jude: I don’t but I don’t wanna be the fuckup of this family either
Janis: This family has an abundance, but we all survive and make it work
Janis: most do, they’re just less outward with it
Janis: Your life will be harder, but as long as you end up happy, that’s the whole point, only you can say what will get you there
Jude: not our little bit of it, everything was going 🏆🥇 before this
Janis: What about the last two years with Jac?
Jude: that wasn’t her fault
Janis: Some of it was
Janis: it doesn’t make either of you awful people though
Jude: if you wanna take to the streets 📢 go ahead but I don’t think it’ll shut anyone up
Janis: Other people are going to say shit, that’s not going to stop
Jude: yeah, I know, I’m not looking forward to even more of it is all I’m saying
Janis: Then you do need to keep thinking
Janis: if you can’t handle that
Janis: no one will know if you do go for the termination route
Jude: I never said I can’t handle it
Janis: Okay
Jude: I know I don’t handle stuff like Jac & Jess do but I won’t fuck things up more than they are cos of what people 🗨️
Jude: I get that I need to be in school til I’ve done exams & I’m not trying to give them another reason to wanna chuck me out
Janis: The options are beyond limited if you don’t finish, you do need to
Janis: it’s alright if you care what people think
Jude: I care it’s bollocks
Jude: if I knew all the shit they’re 🗨️ about & reckon they’ve always known I wouldn’t have just gone along with it then never mind having to deal with it now on top of this
Janis: People will always be ready to think the worst about you
Janis: you know it’s not true, real friends will too, that will have to do
Jude: such a mum thing to say but alright
Jude: you're not wrong
Janis: oi
Janis: just speaking from more experience than you
Jude: while you can, I get it, I’m grabbing onto being a kid as long as I still can too but
Janis: That’s gone
Janis: you can’t be a child and be pregnant
Janis: just because it isn’t here
Jude: Why can’t I?
Janis: You have to take care of yourself and your body more than ever
Janis: that doesn’t compute with running about who knows where
Janis: you’re already responsible for it
Jude: you’re literally out-mumming yourself here
Jude: fun ✔️ risks ❌
Jude: I don’t have a death wish for me or it
Janis: Come on, you know it’s true
Janis: That’s it
Jude: I know I don’t have ages before I look like 🤰🏼 & I can’t even tie my own shoes ⏲
Jude: but I’m not dying, you don’t have to wrap me in bubble wrap
Janis: It’s a bit late for that
Janis: that’s my point, you need to be realistic
Janis: you won’t be the same person afterwards, you think you will but you won’t
Jude: so let me have now
Janis: What do you think you’re going to be able to do before you’re pregnant with all the symptoms, Jude
Janis: This isn’t about me letting you have anything, this is your reality, we need to know you understand that more than what you’re putting out right now implies
Jude: it’s happening to my body, of course I understand
Janis: It’s getting your head right as well as the physical shit
Janis: that does take longer, I know
Jude: yeah, when everyone’s having a go at you & telling you you’ve ruined the lives of everyone you care about that’s a headfuck
Janis: This is a headfuck, for all of us
Jude: I knew what I was gonna do & everyone’s putting doubt about now
Janis: That’s in theory, this is actually happening
Janis: You don’t get to do it without any outside forces
Jude: what if I can’t do it & I’m the worst mum ever?
Janis: You don’t know until you do it
Janis: actually, you never know
Janis: but that’s everyone
Jude: No way, you’ve gotta know you’re good at this, mum 🏆
Janis: Of course not
Janis: no one hands out actual 🏆 or gives you annuals
Janis: that’s what I’m trying to explain, it’s not horror stories
Janis: you sign up for a life of uncertainty and feeling like you’re doing it all wrong
Jude: I’ll make you one if I’m still allowed glue & scissors
Janis: Tah
Janis: the glue is non-toxic and I don’t think you’d get far with scissors in any serious capacity unless you got very creative so
Janis: go wild
Jude: When do I have to tell them at work? now?
Jude: they’ll offer me more than the odd saturday when summer starts
Janis: It looks better if you do it sooner
Janis: so they can’t claim you sprung it on them
Jude: okay
Janis: like, you can’t chuck someone for being pregnant but if you help them out, they’ll be more inclined to help you out
Jude: tomorrow after school it is then
Janis: 👍
Janis: do you need anything bringing back?
Jude: what like an unsuspecting boy to raise this child with me or?
Janis: I was thinking Lucozade, maybe some tablets, that kinda thing
Jude: in that case, no, I’m alright
Janis: Okay then
Jude: I’m gonna just go to bed so
Janis: Before dinner?
Jude: I’m tired
Janis: Alright
Janis: I’ll see if you’re up when I get home, if you want to talk more later
Jude: 🤞 I can sleep & won’t be, no offense
Janis: I’ll cope
Jude: me without dinner, there’s nothing that doesn’t make me feel sick rn anyway
Janis: that gets better usually, unless you’re unlucky, 2nd is the easiest bit
Jude: ffs would be the easiest bit when I’m basically done with & then don’t have school
Janis: I think that’s the least of your timing troubles tbh
Jude: Tah for reminding me of what I’m trying not to think about
Janis: yeah not a luxury you have kid, sorry
Jude: no need to remind me of all the luxuries I won’t have
Janis: Try to get some sleep then
Jude: 👌
Jude: love you
Janis: love you too
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[C’est fini! Part one here, previous here. Epilogue here. ]
“Milonas? Ariadne? Come back to me, my little troublemaker...”
For a moment, Ariadne doesn’t know where she is, or what has happened. She feels like she was run over by a tank. Riven’s hands are on her face, cool against the sweat-slick, burning skin. It’s a little weird, but his presence is reassuring. Interrogator Riven will know what to do.
She would lift her hands to push his concern away, but her arms spasm painfully when she so much as thinks about movement.
Then she remembers.
She jerks her head away from his touch, despite the protests of her neck muscles. A weak snarl of disgust and hatred twists her lips. “Ah, and she’s back with us,” Riven observes, amused. “Come on, no sleeping on the job. We have work to do. Not long left now.” Not long left. The words cause simultaneous relief and dread. Not long left is good, she’s going to lose her mind if it goes on much longer. But not long left also means not over yet. How long is not long? Every minute feels like an hour. No more, she thinks desperately. No more, please. And worse, Riven is a... a liar, a dirty cheat. Not long could mean anything. She sobs weakly.
“I didn’t think you’d be so gullible,” he claims drily, reminding her of the shame of begging him - him! - for mercy. But then again, she’d rather he keep mocking her than do anything else to her agony-riddled body. “What else would you do for a shot at mercy, I wonder?” Ariadne just cries. She knows she fucked up. He even warned her, at the start, that it wouldn’t make a difference. She feels so stupid with the pain and exhaustion scrambling her thoughts. She doesn’t want to play any more. She just wants it to be over. Please let not long be truth, not another lie.
“Hey now,” Riven prompts, nudging her with the toe of one boot. It hurts far too much for such a gentle touch. “Don’t cry. You’re nearly there.” His tone has changed again. The sick smugness is gone, as is the harsh edge of command. He just sounds like her mentor, and she hates him. “You’ve survived so far, and you’re going to keep surviving.” he promises. “Tomorrow this will already feel like a bad dream. You’re going to recover just fine, I haven’t done any serious damage. And as you recover, you’ll realise that you can take this after all.” Tomorrow. Ariadne wants it to be tomorrow already. She’ll still be hurting, but this nightmare will be over. Training complete. Another checkbox ticked on her quest to become everything the Inquisition could want her to be. “Don’t feel too bad,” Riven tries to reassure her. “Everyone finds this hard.” Does everyone handle it this poorly, Ariadne wonders? She feels like she’s crying an awful lot, surely most don’t cry as much as this. And she’s screamed, and she’s begged... She isn’t doing well at all.
“I know you wouldn’t give in so easily if this were the real thing,” Riven tells her with probably-false confidence. Ariadne isn’t convinced. She’s desperate. She sobs harder, hating herself. “Don’t you agree?” She’s torn between wanting him to shut up, and wanting him to keep talking so long as he’s not torturing her any more. “Do you think you’d grovel for the enemy, acolyte?” More tears. She doesn’t know. Probably she would do anything for anyone, if she thought it would work. “You think you’d renounce your faith?” No! Okay, perhaps not anything. “You’d curse the God-Emperor’s name on command?” “Nnh... no...” she snarls. “Would you betray your comrades?” “No...” Not that either. Not yet, a treacherous thought wonders, but never? Are you sure? She doesn’t have time to dwell on it. “You wouldn’t?” Riven asks, “Not even if they beat you?” The kick catches her in the bruised ribs. The pain is blinding, all the more shocking for coming without warning. “Ff... fffhhu-uck... you...” she rasps when she can breathe. “Fuck... you...!”
“Would you forswear your loyalties?” More kicks, emphasising his words. Not quite so overwhelming, now she knows to expect it. Still beyond painful, driving into bruises and still-spasming muscles. “No,” she spits angrily. She wouldn’t, she knows she wouldn’t. “Would you forsake the Emperor?” More blows. “No!” she shouts through the pain. No, she is faithful. “Would you turn away from faith?!” “No!” she growls. “Ffuck you!” She starts coughing again from trying to talk, and doesn’t hear his next words. She feels the impacts though, disrupting her efforts to regain her breath. “Hhate you,” she rasps when she can.
Miraculously, he stops kicking her. When he crouches down beside her, she bares her teeth at him. He pats the side of her face encouragingly. She snaps weakly in his direction, trying to bite. “Won’t you beg for me again?” he teases, voice sickly-sweet. She growls, then starts coughing again. He doesn’t make it harder for her this time. The pain in her ribs and lungs and throat is punishing enough. “Beg for mercy,” he smiles, “And I might decide to give it to you this time...” She is not falling for the same trick twice. “Fuck... you...” He pats her face again and chuckles.
The ties that hold her wrists in place burn as they peel away from the deep groove that struggling has dug into her skin. She gasps with it, a little. But it isn’t a very large pain when measured against everything else. Her arms flop uselessly against the rockrete. Fear rises in her chest again. What next? What new pain? What’s Riven doing, where is he? She tries to roll over to see him, but even that is beyond her.
Then his hands are on her again, and she struggles as best as she can. She twists in his grip as he pulls her into his lap. Her face is on his leg - by his knee maybe - and she tries to bite. Her teeth make little impact on the leather, and he only laughs. With one arm under hers and the other hand supporting her head, he heaves her up to sitting. Then there’s cloth between his hands and her skin. She doesn’t really understand until she’s already mostly wrapped up in the blanket.
“You’ve done just great,” Riven tells her in response to a halting noise of confusion. “Well done. We’re all done now, you’ve done great.” Ariadne growls weakly. She doesn’t want his praise. And she doesn’t know if she can believe the promise. But she can’t stop her body from flopping against his chest as he pulls her close. His hands adjust her position so that her head tucks against his collarbone, then one arm wraps round her back beneath her shoulders and the other one goes beneath her legs. The blanket is coarse against the electrode burns and she makes more noise low in her throat – something like a growl and something like a moan.
When Riven lifts her, the pain wrenches through her body. His arms are lines of crushing pressure on throbbing flesh, and she forgets to wonder what he is up to. He is just hurting her, again. Her muscles engage on reflex – perhaps struggling again, perhaps just trying not to be so painfully limp in his grip – but movement still just lights every inch of her up with yet more pain. She cries out with her cracked, failing voice, and makes herself cough yet again.
By the time she realises they are moving, he has already crossed half the distance to the door. Hope, painfully bright, flares again? Are they done? Are they really, actually done, is it over? Please, please let this not be another trick…
I hate you, she thinks. But she can’t bring herself to say it, can’t force her lungs and throat to do more than just try to breathe.
Riven calls out to some sentry beyond the door, and it swings open.
Please, please, are we done? Is it over?
Riven carries her, helpless in his arms, the short distance to the infirmary. Every step shifts her and even if it is over it doesn’t feel over, it’s still agony, every inch of her hurts.
He lays her down and she shudders painfully with anticipation of contact with the hard, cold floor, but the bed gives beneath her and does not hurt as much as it could. She coughs weakly, staring up at Riven in a daze. “That’s it,” he tells her fondly. “All done. Now let the nice medic take care of you, and you’ll feel a little better soon.” More tears well up in Ariadne’s eyes. She hates the way he talks to her. She hates the possessive fondness, and the way his hand lingers on her arm. She hates him but she is too exhausted to spit more curses at him or to break the fragile spell of hope.
She hates the medic, too – a sharp, unexpected flare of emotion at the young woman for seeing Ariadne like this. Teary and shivering and defenceless from pain, unable to challenge Riven’s casual gestures of ownership. She closes her eyes so as not to see. But they snap open again as soon as she’s touched, unable to tolerate not being able to see what’s done to her. Her thudding heart tells her to expect more pain, but the medic’s hands are gentle. “I’ve got burn cream here,” she says, “Just lie still. You don’t need to do a thing.” The cream is cool and soothing, but the touch is unpleasant, agitating the burns despite how gentle it is. Worse, Ariadne is still helpless, still forced to accept someone else’s hands touching and manipulating her body, exposing her vulnerability. There are so many burns, too many burns, it seems to take forever. She just wants it to stop. She doesn’t care about the burns, they don’t hurt as much as her head, or her lungs, or her whole body.
But eventually it’s done.
“How are you holding up?” the medic asks. Ariadne doesn’t know how to answer. She feels like shit and she wants to cry and most of all she wants to be alone. “How are your lungs?” “Sore,” Ariadne croaks bitterly. The cool metal disk the medic uses to listen to her chest feels too much like the electrodes, it makes her shudder and cough. “Not too bad,” the woman concludes. What’s her name? Ariadne should remember her name but she really can’t bring herself to give a shit. “I’ll need to check on you regularly though. Here, drink this.”
‘This’ is in a carton, with a straw that’s put directly into Ariadne’s mouth. It’s blood temperature and sugary and bitter and she’s not thirsty – after swallowing that much water she isn’t sure she’ll ever be thirsty again – but it might have painkillers in, so she drinks obediently until the carton is empty.
“Shall I call someone in to sit with you? Talk to you, take your mind off it?” Ariadne hesitates. For a moment she wants Caleb badly. But then she actually imagines him seeing her like this, and looking at her with pity, and she just… no. No, she doesn’t want that. She’ll find him and get him to hold her later, when she’s a little less raw, when she hates everything a little less. “No,” she croaks. Talking hurts, but less than shaking her head would. “Alright. I’ll leave you in peace then.”
And she steps away and pulls the curtain round the bed to give a faint semblance of privacy.
Ariadne stares up at the ceiling and fights back tears. If she cries too hard they’ll still hear her. And it will hurt her throat and her lungs and her ribs and her head.
She wishes she were sleepy. She’d love to be asleep. But although she’s exhausted physically and mentally, it’s only… what, lunchtime? Early afternoon? There’s no hint of the possibility of sleep.
She stares at the ceiling.
Oh, she hates Riven.
She cries, chest burning with the effort of keeping herself quiet.
She hates Riven and she hates herself and she hates everything.
She just wants the pain to stop.
[Epilogue here.]
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Diplomat’s Son & Roi (Peter Parker's iPod, Part 11.)
Description: Blip was hard. Dating MJ was a pleasure in Parker’s life, so it was even harder when she told him that things aren’t working as she anticipated - one month before college. Although they remained friends. But Peter isn’t too sure if he can handle liking yet another girl.
Part Summary: Peter hoped that everything can last forever - but he was lying to himself. When MJ finally figures out his deal, he is not in such a pleasant position - either, he has to tell you or MJ would. But telling you proves to be much more difficult than he thought.
A/N: I would say that this is some very light smut. Very light tho. Also, yes, I am aware that this playlist slowly turns into the tracks from Contra and Modern Vampires of the City by Vampire Weekend. But you cannot stop me. Also, if my calculations are right, Peter is like... Almost 19? Maybe even 20? I am lost in the timeline ffs. So WORRY NOT, IT IS LEGAL.
Word count: 4.1 K
Tagging: @fanboyswhereare-you, @lukesbabylon, @eridanuswave​
Master list: H E R E
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MJ was watching every move Peter had made over the next two weeks. You knew about it, but you didn't say a word. You didn't know what Peter had done, but it seemed to be quite personal. And when something was personal between those two, you knew that you don't want any part in their beef.
Peter tried his best with being secretive while visiting you. Sometimes, as the weather got better again, you started to sneak out of the room more and more often, having Speedy showing you the best views in the whole New York. Sometimes, he bought you some of the best sandwiches in Queens, sometimes you got a pretty decent milkshake and some ice-cream.
But MJ wasn't dumb. She was a lot of things, but not dumb. Over time, as she continued with finding your room empty with your room empty and window open, she had her suspicion. And Peter was officially damned when she noticed a web hanging from the wall next to your window once she was watching a movie there with you.
It was one May morning when she was waiting for him. You were by his side, and for a reason, you had a feeling that there was something that needed to be resolved between MJ and Peter. So you just ran after Ned, telling him something about Lord of the Rings.
“Okay, Peter. I was leaving it be for a long time. But you should speak your colors finally.” - She told him, tugging him aside, next to the fountain. Peter gave her an unknowing look, furrowing a bit. But he was pretty nervous - MJ could tell based on how he hugged himself and stepped aside, tugging the strap on his shoulder a bit. Even if they weren't dating anymore, she still remembered every reaction.
“You and Y/N. What's that about? Do you think I don't know?" - She crosse her elbows on her chest, staring at Peter. Peter wanted to tell her how wrong is she, but MJ was quicker than him. - "Webs around her window, her being gone through most of the time, especially during nights, she tells everyone she does but doesn't date anyone... Parker, I know you dragged Spider-Man into this. All I want to know is what you are you trying  to archive here."
At that moment, Peter knew that MJ is onto him. She knew what was happening. And MJ knew, obviously for a long time. Parker knew that it is too late to lie to her. but how on Earth should he want to speak his mind?
"MJ, I swear that I don't want to hurt her. I know you think something like that. No. I would never." - Peter starter to stutter out, looking MJ in the face. But she didn't seem to be convinced at all. With a long exhale, she told Peter to continue with his story. - "It crossed my mind a long time ago and I told myself that its not a bad plan. I just wanted to get to know her, ask her out and stuff and I didn't know how to do any of that."
"So Spider-Man came in handy as a romance tool, is that right? Peter, this is fucking stupid." - MJ rolled her eyes. She could barely express how mad and disappointed she was with Peter. But there was no way on Earth that she'd bitch him down. Oh no. Once you'll get to know, Peter was fucked. Yeah, once you'd know about all of that, you can bitch Peter down all by yourself. - "Do you realize how much she'll be hurt once you tell her? And I'm not even speaking of the fact that if someone with dangerous connections would get to know, she could be harmed and maybe even killed. Parker..." - She sighed.
"You have to tell Y/N. The sooner, the better. And if you're too scared to tell her, she would get to know. And if it would take her more time, I'll be the one to tell her." - She told Peter with a firm tone. So, that was the last stop officially. MJ didn't play around with this sort of stuff and she wasn't just blatantly threatening Peter. She wasn't the one to do this kind of stuff. Peter could be sure that once is MJ's patience is gone, she is going to tell you everything.
"I don't care how you're going to do all of this, but fix it and be quick." - She told him the last thing she wanted to and left to catch up with Betty who was waiting for her at the fountain. To be honest, Peter didn't want to go to school at all. Now when he knew that MJ knew this secret and she could tell you every time, Peter didn't want there at all. So he just turned away from the building and walked home.
Because you weren't dumb, you noticed that Peter didn't come to literature class and that he didn't even was there when lunch came by. - "I spoke to Peter in the morning, didn't I? Or am I paranoid?" - You asked Ned with a furrow, looking at MJ after that. MJ nodded and turned to Betty to scratch her back. - "He was there, we were walking down the park, we were talking and then he left."
"Maybe he wasn't feeling good." - Ned shook his head, giving you his lettuce so you could chew on it. MJ just nodded with her lips shut. - "But it would be fair if he'd at least say hi." - You mumbled, taking the vegetables, asking MJ about the last sociology class you had. It was quite late in the evening when MJ knocked on your door, watching you scrolling through HBO with a blank stare.
Something was really off that day - you got pretty used to Speedy coming two times, sometimes even three times a week - on Thursday and Tuesday. And it was Thursday and he was nowhere to be seen as if something happened. Usually, he let you know that he won't be coming over - he left you a small note under the window when he wasn't coming by. And this time, he just disappeared and didn't give you a hint.
"You good? Don't you want to re-watch Vampire Diaries with me and Betts?" - MJ looked at you on a Thursday evening, furrowing a bit, watching you covered with the blanket. She was sure that on that Thursday, Peter won't come to see you. He was too scared for that - in her opinion, it would take him at least three to four days before he picks up enough courage to at least look your way. But you sent a smile her way and shook your head.
"You sure? I mean, I would not like you to die here. Corpses rot pretty fast according to the research I've done." - The girl rose her eyebrows, laughing when you threw a pillow her way.
"Love you, girl." - She smiled nonetheless, closing the door for you. It could be around eleven when Speedy landed in front of your window. You were already fast asleep - and he even checked if MJ is asleep too. That was when he encouraged him to open up the damn window and sneak into your room, locking the door.
Peter thought that he's ready to confess - his identity, why he did what he did, he thought that he's ready to explain everything to you. He thought so emphasize that word. In reality, he was a mess inside. Many feelings were tearing him apart. The fear of losing you or that maybe you will think that he's a liar and a cheater because both of those names would be rightfully owned by Peter. Gently, he woke you up with pressing himself onto your back, kissing your neck.
"What the hell are you doing here so late?" - You mumbled into the pillow while the boy traced a pattern on your upper back. You needed your few minutes to wake yourself up.
"I couldn't fall asleep so I decided to visit you." - Peter whispered honestly, leaning his forehead into your shoulder carefully, waiting for you to gain some form of consciousness. You were just done for.
"How nice to wake me up this late when I have to go to school tomorrow, Speedy." - You mumbled angrily, finally turning your head to look at the smiling lips. Jesus. These lips were something - but you wanted something more. It was quite some time you two were meeting and probably if he wouldn't be such a gentleman, you would already do stuff together. It was quite obvious that this time, you're the one to do the first baby steps. - "You were only thinking about yourself." - You mumbled, pulling out a subtle smile.
"No, I just... I just wanted to talk with you." - He said sincerely, looking you in the eyes with a furrow. This was his chance - but to wait for what you had to say was a mistake. Because you made something different out of the context.
"But I don't want to talk." - You whispered back, scooping so close that you could feel him breathing. I probably was even that he woke you up - and in the night, you could be a greedy beast when it came to that.
To be honest, Peter wasnt the only one to feel the subtle click that happened one night. The feeling just somehow was there - it was that light feeling that made you feel that maybe, just maybe, you can do some stuff together. Something in your mind was making you keen on that mysterious boy - you only knew that his father figure was dead and that he was fourteen when he got all of these crazy powers. You didn't know anything more - but for a reason, you were attracted. He was almost oddly familiar as if you knew the smell and that smile, but you only thought that because you already knew each other for a fairly long time. You remembered the way he moved around your room and in the streets, you knew the way he smiled at you... You knew everything.
"So do you want me to leave?" - Peter asked nervously, still smoothing your shoulder because he didn't have any idea what to do or what were you talking about.
"I don't want you to leave either, dummy. Come here." - You mumbled under your breath, bringing him in for a kiss. Quickly, you closed your eyes, kicking the damned blanket off your bed, making him fall on you. Oh, Peter finally figured out that you didn't want to speak since you had something much different on your mind.
"Or... I mean... Do you want to tell me something? Something’s wrong?" - You asked worriedly, smoothing his back gently as you both tried to catch your breath.
"It... Can wait, I think. Nothing serious." - Peter stuttered out before you got into your all-time favorite position - the Spider boy was hovering above you, your knee was leaning into his hip and practically, he was pressing you down into the mattress. You nodded before clinging onto him, trying to bring him down a bit just to feel his body onto yours. You usually went in with some nice, soft, and slow kisses - that day, it seemed rushed, harsh, almost too aggressive. You even bumped into his teeth with yours once or twice. And that was when the craziest question just left your mouth.
"Do you think you can take this off?" - You asked with your eyes closed, tugging the spandex off of his body a bit. That made Peter open his eyes pretty wide, watching you. - "I mean, the mask can stay, of course. I just want to feel... You." - You opened up your eyes, smoothing his jaw gently. - "I'll take this off, of course. Let's just do this in underwear this time. I wanna see how it goes, please." - You begged.
Peter rolled his eyes under the mask, catching his breath. That sounded so nice. Just the idea of it made him smile a bit and his cheeks redden, immediately forgetting about the thing he had to say to you. - "Only if you won't make me talk when I do it." - He said shortly. There was still the little fear that once you'd hear his voice, it would all be out. You furrowed a bit at that, but nodded almost instantly, already sitting up to play some music.
That night belonged to Contra and Modern Vampires of the City, both albums by Vampire Weekend; since you grew to love them when listening to them with Peter a lot. Before looking at him, you smelled both your armpits and checked what underwear you had on. Well, since you forgot to take off the bra since you came home from school, this part of your body looked rather decent. Your panties weren't such a hit, but having hearts all over them was acceptable when you turned your head a bit and looked at him standing with his back to you only in his boxer shorts which were kinda too big for him.
And he had some really thin legs. He was cute. And so solid that your breath stuck for a while. You shifted your weight on your feet. Only the back had sent you to heaven. And woke you up definitely. You shot your look back in front of yourself, feeling your heart beating a bit faster.
"So, because we don't want this turn to a naughty shit show, Imma climb under the blanket. I promised not to look, but just to feel, yeah?" - You asked silently. Since he wasn’t speaking, as he said previously, you waited until he nodded, and then, you walked to the bed, picking the blanket from the floor and listening to Diplomat’s Son. Then you turned away, listening to the boy coming to the bed, feeling as the mattress got down under his weight.
Once he was giving you the vibe that he's ready, you looked at the parts your eyes had already discovered - his lips, jaws, and neck. The rest was still a mystery. But you jumped a little when you felt the contact of naked skin on your naked skin. He was so warm and his skin was so... Gentle. Except when you slowly dragged your foot on his calf, that thing was hairy and sticky.
You two forgot how to kiss or even breathe as you slowly put your palms on his waist, as you usually did during your sessions. You didn't even focus on if his muscles as hard as a rock, no, you smiled when your thumb found mold on his ribs and you circled it.
"You feel so nice." - You said quietly, kissing a small, sweet spot on his collarbone. Which made the boy give in into your touch, exhaling slowly with his eyes closed. - "And you smell nice too." - You smiled and bit him playfully, making him jump at the feeling of your teeth.
Jesus, he would like to tell you the same thing. That you look beautiful with your hair around your head like a halo, that your smell alone makes his head spin and that feeling your arch of the foot was making him excited. But he only leaned in to put his palm on your jaw so he could kiss you.
When Peter was sure-sure you don't mind it and that your eyes are closed for real, he let you bend your head so he could kiss you down on your neck, brushing the collarbone gently. It would maybe seem funny to other guys your age who had nightstands at parties and stuff, but for both of you, this was something extraordinary.
Sure, you were with guys before, but you never took it so slow. You knew Speedy since March, already, but you guys only made out. Most of the guys would bend you over in their super suit and then, they would disappear, never seeing you again. There was some kind of vibe that Gonzales isn't like them. But also, for men, he took it painfully slow. So this was the best first step you could make him do before pushing off from the cliff with something more.
You whimpered and moved a bit when his palm found your waist, having a joyful smile with your eyes still closed. Gently, you touched that palm, feeling the veins on it pretty intensely. - "Kiss me and close your eyes, okay?" - You whispered, looking at him. And he did as you told him, feeling as you moved the palm up to your ribs, then even more up under your armpit.
Without realization, he jumped a bit when he felt the material of your bra with his fingers, pushing his body into yours more, moaning into the kiss. And it was the sweetest and purest moans you've ever heard. Just when you wanted to move his palm even upper, he stopped kissing you and looked you in the eyes. Or at least you thought he did so.
With heavy breathing, he looked on his palm on that material, then looking you in the eyes. Slowly, you let go of that palm, palming his jaw again. You listened to the first notes of the Taxi Cab before you nodded. You were on fire at that moment.
"Just do it, I want you to." - You begged, putting your knee up to his waist so your foot was resting on his ass. Damn, that was a nice ass to touch. And Peter just did as he was told. And in the first moment, he couldn't even understand that he is holding your breast in his palm. At least until he squeezed and opened his mouth as he watched you bent your head backward, making the most erotic sound he had ever heard.
That deep moan sent shivers down Peter’s spine - and Jesus, he wanted more. So naturally, he leaned his weight onto his right elbow, still laying above you, palming it once again. Just as you swore each other, he didn't look at what he’s doing, he watched your joyful face. Carefully, he palmed your breast once more before he tried something he read in a magazine and tried only once. And he was worried that he's about to fuck it up.
To keep you moaning, Spider boy kissed a trail down to where his palm was while he pressed the palm down on your chest. Peter was pretty handy with making you occupied - so you couldn't say since when his palm was put flat on your abdomen, but suddenly, you could feel it there. Before you could protest, that boy shut you up with a kiss, getting your leg off his ass, smoothing the back of your thigh. The only thing you were capable of was to close your eyes when his lips gently touched your breast again.
You knew what he's about to try, so you circled a hand around his shoulder, spreading the legs a bit wider when Speedy’s palm pressed on your hip, playing with the hem of your panties. Just when he was about to do it, he stopped kissing your breasts to look you in the eyes. And dear lord, you almost went insane when he finally palmed your fanny. Peter watched every small reaction you could give him - but the hottest thing, except another quiet and deep moan, was your body leaning into the touch.
You couldn't breathe at that time. When he wanted to lean away from you a bit, letting go of that warm spot, you caught the palm, staring at him. - "It's fine. Please." - You whispered, kissing him again. Peter steadied himself, coughing a bit nervously, taking a deep breath when he slipped under the piece of cloth.
Oh wow, oh damn, the chaos inside him was... Wow. You were hot and wet down there - so much that it surprised him. It was a kind of a puzzle for a while to figure out the angle for further. When he brushed that spot, you let him know - you squealed and bit your lips harshly, your eyebrow knitting with concentration. You nodded when he tried it a few other times, picking up both the location of the bundle of nerves and speed you liked, bending down to kiss your breasts.
You soon started to travel a little, feeling as the spot between your legs started to get even hotter as the claims started to appear out of nowhere. Just when you felt that you cant do it for a moment longer, you made him shut you up with a kiss so you could moan into his lips as you palmed your breast, taking out the nipple. You could hear both your excited breathing, your moaning, his whimpering, and the fingers brushing that spot while Roi by VIDEOCLUB was playing.
It was getting more and more intense and extreme until you closed your eyes firmly, leaned from him and moaned oh fuck yes, oh, oh my God in various order possibly a hundred times. You were shaking, you couldn't catch your breath and your thighs captured his palm while he tried to do his best with prolonging that state you were in. The French rap in your ears got even louder than before and boy oh boy, you were seeing the stars. Everything just mixed up together and it was such a beautiful experience.
When you could breathe again, you smiled lazily. You were done for; dear lord, how much you wanted to repay Speedy, but you were out of order. You could barely move or breathe, you couldn't speak nor thinks. You just let him hug you as you brought him closer and kissed his cheek.
A few minutes after, you both got dressed up - you gave him some wet wipes to clean his hand before slipping into the suit, and even if you didn't repay him in any way, he seemed to more than fine with it. You were radiating with happiness when you put on a fresh, long shirt and a fresh pair of panties, leaving the bra behind. The room smelled like sweat, sin, and some kind of naughty activities.
"Did you... Really... I know its weird, but, did you..." - He mumbled from dressing up and you watched as the suit covered his back again. - "Are you asking me if I came?" - You whispered with a smile, waiting for him to join you in the bed. Before sitting next to you, he nodded, being red as tomatoes.
"I came. That was... One of the most amazing ones I had. Surely the wildest one." - You whispered and kissed his chest in the spandex once you both laid down again.
"I wasn’t sure what to do at all." - He chuckled lightly and you looked at his lips before you raised your stare to his face. Could he be honest with not having too much experience in this area? That left you in slight awe, honestly.
"You were doing great. What was that you wanted to talk about?" - You mumbled, putting your head on his shoulder. That made Peter get outta the trans rather quickly. His hand around your waist stiffened for a second. No way he could tell you at that moment. No fucking way. He just made you cum - no.
"Nothing. You wanna talk about something?" - He answered nervously. You grinned and nodded.
"I'll be out of New York next weekend, a need a little getaway. You up?" - You asked, making him terrified, but at the last moment, Peter realized you're just shitting him. - "You can have your suit on during the day and sleep only in underwear in the night. How does that sound?"
"I've never heard a better idea, Y/N. I've never heard a better one."  - Peter closed his eyes and kissed the top of your head, thinking about how fucked up he was.
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maswartz · 4 years
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IN THE PROGRESSIVE COLLEGE TOWN where I live, one sees a lot of “Bernie” bumper stickers on a lot of Subarus. Probably these are remnants of 2016, when the Independent from Vermont masqueraded as a Democrat, dividing the party and hobbling Hillary Clinton’s campaign just enough to fuck up the final tally. Although I held with HRC then as now, I don’t begrudge anyone who supported Bernie Sanders in the primaries four years ago, when we first became acquainted with the ugly font and awful shade of blue on his campaign merch. But to support him today, after Trump, after Mueller, is akin to insisting, on Christmas 2019, that despite ample evidence to the contrary, Michael Jackson is innocent, because you really dig Off the Wall.
“Don’t they know?” I scream when I see these Bernie stickers. “Don’t they realize who he really is?” Apparently not. But then, to them, and to most on what Sean Hannity might call the “radical left,” Bernie is not a person as much as an ideal: A sort of liberal Santa Claus who will come down our collective chimney to deliver free healthcare and free college, and, with the aid of his ineffable North Pole magic, break up the banks, slay the patriarchy, eliminate racism, end income inequality, and tax corporations into insolvency—all while raising the minimum wage for his workshop elves. How he plans to actually accomplish any of this he only hints at—Bernie rarely deigns to answer process questions and usually gets grouchy when pressed for details—but it all sounds so wonderful we want to believe, just as we every year insist that yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
Unfortunately, the flesh-and-blood Bernie Sanders, if elected, would not have the requisite power to fulfill his lofty promises—any more than the tipsy Macy’s Santa will leave the mall on a sleigh driven by flying reindeer. Bernie is a real person, and he is deeply, perhaps fatally, flawed. He would be a horrible candidate in the general election—like, McGovern-in-’72-level bad—and, more urgently, his nomination would ensure that, whoever won, the White House remained in Russian hands.
The Bernie extolled by the bros is a myth, just like the Trump that MAGA adores—just like Neverland, and just like Santa Claus. We need to face some cold, hard truths, before Sanders scolds and finger-wags his way to a second term for Donald Trump. We cannot permit this egomaniacal fraud to spoil yet another election.
Bernie is a socialist—but of the Union of Soviet Socialists variety.
Hey, there’s a reason Santa Claus wears red!
Bernie is a self-styled “socialist” who has bought, hook line and sinker, the Stalinist propaganda about Marxism and the glories of the Soviet Union. This was understandable if you were Dalton Trumbo in 1947. After all, the governing philosophy of communism is “let’s share everything so there is no want,” which is kind of appealing, especially next to the “fuck you, pay me” mantra of unvarnished Trump-variety capitalism. Seven-plus decades later, alas, the naïveté borders on delusional.
From the Young Peoples Socialist League to his membership in the Liberty Union Party, which sought to nationalize (and not just “break up”) the banks, to his time at the Kibbutz Sha’ar Ha’amakim, which extolled Stalin—who slaughtered more people than Hitler—as “Sun of the Nations,” to his hanging a Soviet flag in his Burlington mayoral office, Soviet boosterism is the thruline of Bernie's career.
Bernie took his wife to the Soviet Union for their honeymoon, as one does. For years, he extolled the virtues of the USSR. Rather than grok that it’s all KGB-fed propaganda and lies, he’s been a staunch Bolshevik apologist for his entire adult life.
I mean, the guy has a dacha, ffs.
Look, our healthcare system is flawed. I’d love some sort of universal coverage like they have in every other developed country. But the best person to promote the de facto nationalization of the healthcare system is not a Soviet apologist who once wanted to nationalize the banks, too.
Bernie is unpopular with Black voters.
To be fair, Sanders (likely) really does want equality and all those nice things he talks about. Good for him. The problem is that his vision of “socialist” utopia is absolutist and focuses too much on the (white, male) working class that he, like his beloved Marx, idolizes and idealizes.
Despite some high-profile Black supporters, Bernie remains unpopular with Black voters, particularly Black women. This, and not “the rigged DNC,” is why HRC kicked his ass in the primaries. Could it be that Black voters have made Bernie as a BS artist? Those are his initials, after all.
The failure of the United States to properly examine and make amends for slavery contributes mightily to the country’s enduring racism, on which MAGA feeds. Not to even discuss reparations is madness. Unsurprisingly, Bernie does not understand this:
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Marcus H. Johnson@marcushjohnson
Bernie Sanders thinks reparations is "just writing a check" instead of a redress for state sanctioned terrorism, violence, and being shut out of the economic, political, and legal systems for 250+ years. How is reparations "just writing a check," and free college not?
Aaron Rupar@atrupar
Bernie Sanders on reparations on The View: "I think that right now our job is to address the crises facing the American people in our communities, and I think there are better ways to do that than just writing out a check." https://t.co/FXso34iSbs
March 1st 2019
470 Retweets1,065 Likes
To win the resounding victory necessary to defeat Trump and the Russian hackers threatening to sabotage yet another election, overwhelming African-American voter turnout is essential. Black voters are more likely to turn out in big numbers for Joe Biden—especially if he runs with Kamala Harris, as we K-Hivers hope—than yet another elderly New Yorker who makes pie-in-the-sky promises he can’t possibly keep.
Bernie is lazy.
Sanders spent the early part of his career flitting between low-paying odd jobs:
He bounced around for a few years, working stints in New York as an aide at a psychiatric hospital and teaching preschoolers for Head Start, and in Vermont researching property taxation for the Vermont Department of Taxes and registering people for food stamps for a nonprofit called the Bread and Law Task Force.
Then as now, he was more given to talking the talk than walking the walk. In 1970, the 30-year-old Liberty Union Party socialist was kicked out of a Vermont commune for not doing his share of the work. His days there were instead spent in “endless political discussion.”
Sanders’ idle chatter did not endear him with some of the commune’s residents, who did the backbreaking labor of running the place. [Kate] Daloz writes [in her history of the commune] that one resident, Craig, “resented feeling like he had to pull others out of Bernie’s orbit if any work was going to get accomplished that day.” Sanders was eventually asked to leave. 
Eventually, Bernie found a career that would allow him to talk a big game but accomplish precious little: politics. For the decades he’s been in Congress, his record is pretty scant. Seven bills in 28 years, including two that name post offices, is nothing to write home about (unless you’re writing home to one of those post offices)—although Sanders has been a quiet champion of gun rights for most of his Congressional career, as well as a dependable “nay” vote on Russian sanctions, so I guess there’s that.
But hey, I’m sure a guy who has avoided labor as assiduously as possible for 78 years will magically turn into a workaholic as an octogenarian. That heart attack no doubt jump-started his engines. Speaking of which…
Bernie is old, and he just had a heart attack.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t actually a heart attack. Maybe it was just a life-threatening cardiac issue that required emergency surgery. We don’t know, because Sanders has not yet released his medical report. But he has promised to do so, just as he promised to release his taxes and then waited a million years to make good. Will he bring the receipts before next week, as he said he would?
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The Speaker's Basilisk⚖️@PelosiLegatus
Why hasn’t @BernieSanders released his medical records yet? He just has a heart attack three months ago, which he lied about. What is he hiding from the American people? Why is the press so afraid to dig into his dishonesty?
December 23rd 2019
173 Retweets444 Likes
Even if his medical report checks out, I mean…there’s ageism, and then there are actuarial tables. A President Sanders would turn eighty in 2021, his first year in office. That would make him the oldest first-term president by a significant margin. He can’t live forever; in that way, he’s not like Santa Claus.
Bernie is a misogynist.
That Bernie Sanders is some sort of radical feminist, a paradigm for how men should be in the post-Third-Wave world, is almost as ridiculous as his stubborn refusal to comb his hair.
Before he launched his political career, he was a deadbeat dad. Remember, Bernie was a graduate of the prestigious University of Chicago, in an era when college degrees were relatively rare. Instead of putting food on the table, he was running quixotic political campaigns as the standard-bearer of a barely functional party. As Spandan Chakrabarti writes:
In 1971, Vermont was debating a tenant’s rights bill. One of the testimonials to Vermont’s State Senate Judiciary Committee came from one Susan Mott of Burlington, who said the legislation did not go far enough in prohibiting discrimination against single mothers and recipients of welfare benefits. Mott had one child and was on welfare. That one child…was Levi Sanders, Bernie Sanders’ son. Which begs the question, why did Bernie Sanders’ (former?) girlfriend and his son have to be on welfare? Where was the University of Chicago graduate’s considerable marketable skills? What was 5-year-old Levi’s father doing that he couldn't afford to support his own child? It turns out he was too busy coming in third with single digit votes.
To be fair, Bernie did bring home a little bit of bacon writing stuff like this:
A man goes home and masturbates [to] his typical fantasy. A woman on her knees, a woman tied up, a woman abused.
A woman enjoys intercourse with her man—as she fantasizes [about] being raped by 3 men simultaneously.
Even if those lines were intended as a provocative rhetorical flourish to be shot down later in the essay, I mean…what feminist ally would write something like that?
And then there’s the more recent sexual harassment issues that seem to be pervasive in his campaign offices. He missed one of the Russian sanction votes because he was busy dealing with it:
The only one to miss the vote was Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt. He was meeting with women who had accused his 2016 presidential campaign of sexual misconduct, his spokesman, Josh Miller-Lewis, told CNBC.
As if to confirm his misogynist bona fides, Sanders this month endorsed the candidacy of Young Turks founder Cenk Uygur, no feminist ally—before the bad optics forced him to reverse course:
“As I said yesterday, Cenk has been a longtime fighter against the corrupt forces in our politics and he’s inspired people all across the country,” the Vermont senator said. “However, our movement is bigger than any one person. I hear my grassroots supporters who were frustrated and understand their concerns. Cenk today said he is rejecting all endorsements for his campaign, and I retract my endorsement.”
That Cenk is running for the California seat vacated by rising star Katie Hill, a victim of criminal revenge porn who was shamed into stepping down, makes the gaffe even worse.
Bernie is not a Democrat.
Of all the idiotic narratives spewed by the “Bernie bros” about 2016, the most asinine was that the process had to be rigged because the DNC clearly preferred Hillary Clinton to Bernie Sanders. Um…why would it not? Just as a New York Yankees fan club would want its leader to be a ride-or-die Yankee fan rather than a waffler who rooted for either the Bronx Bombers or the Red Sox depending on which was doing better that year, so the Democratic National Committee wants an actual Democrat to be its nominee. Duh.
And this was not any nominee. HRC was practically funding the operation herself, to help with the down-ballot races Bernie could give a shit about. Anyone can scold the country about big banks and wage inequality, but to actually, you know, govern requires working well with other people, a skill that seems to have eluded Sanders for the last 30 years.
Alas, the incorrigible Senator has learned nothing from 2016. He’s still playing the hackneyed “rabble-rousing outsider” card:
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The Hill@thehill
Sen. @BernieSanders: "We are going to take on the Democratic establishment."
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December 22nd 2019
426 Retweets1,930 Likes
The election of 2020 is, or should be, a referendum on Trump. It’s not about taking on the Democrats. That sort of internecine divisiveness is exactly what Putin wants. Which makes perfect sense when we consider that…
Bernie is (at a minimum) a Useful Idiot for Putin.
The bots go on the offensive whenever I tweet that Bernie is a Useful Idiot for Russia. But he is Useful, in that he operates as a divisive force in the Democratic Party, which aids Putin. And he’s certainly an Idiot, in that he doesn't realize the damage he’s done. But does he really not know?
The Mueller Report makes it clear that Russian IC was helping the Sanders campaign. Either Bernie didn’t realize this, and is an idiot, or he did realize it and played along, and is a traitor. Either way, the guy who hired former Paul Manafort chum Tad Devine to run his campaign cannot be trusted with standing up to Putin and the powerful forces of transnational organized crime, no matter how passionate his anti-Wall Street screeds.
(Sidenote: Tad Devine is now peddling his Kremlin-y wares for Andrew Yang, which perhaps explains Yang’s recent remark that he is open to granting Donald Trump a pardon. This, needless to say, is disqualifying).
Put it this way: Are we sure that a Nominee Sanders—an almost-eighty-year-old who just had a heart attack—would not pick the Russophile cult member Tulsi Gabbard as his running mate? The “anti-anti-Trump Left,” as Jonathan Chait calls it, is alive and well, sharing, “in addition to enthusiasm for Bernie Sanders, [a] deep skepticism of the Democratic Party’s mobilization against the president.” So: traitors, basically. Would not Sanders, if given the chance, throw meat to this rabid fan base, if only to generate more adulation? Do we really trust the judgment of the guy who can’t ensure that his own campaign headquarters is not a hostile work environment?
Bernie still, years after the fact, cannot understand that he contributed to HRC’s defeat—just as he can’t see that his ideas about the Soviet Union and communism have been debunked. He doesn’t have it in him to realize, much less admit, he was wrong. And why should he? As long as well-meaning people—especially young people; especially young women; especially pretty young women—keep “feeling the Bern,” he will continue to happily soak up the attention, like the insufferable narcissist he is. Why Millennials support the guy instead of OK-Boomering him to oblivion is a head-scratcher. Maybe it’s because he was born two months before Pearl Harbor and is therefore older than the Boomers?
Bernie Sanders is the Trump of the Left. Repeat: Bernie Sanders is the Trump of the Left. He’s an egomaniac who believes his own hype, like Trump. And like Trump, Bernie is selling snake oil; we just happen to like his brand of snake oil. He’s a bad mall Santa, promising everyone a pony, when all he can deliver is a lump of coal. And make no mistake: far from assuring a worker’s paradise, his nomination would bring about the end of the republic.
It’s not a “revolution.” It’s a con job. And it’s got the full support of the Russians.
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a-writing-bear · 4 years
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[PruCan] Chapter 12: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back
Ao3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/51804982
This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper
You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.
Previous Chapter 
Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)
AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert
Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)
Trigger Warnings: High gone bad. Unwanted touching (just mentions but slightly uncomfortable)  Crowds & Depiction of a Panic Attack
In the past, the William-Jones family was a well-to-do, well adjusted and highly successful suburban family. Or at least economically and socially successful- if anyone asked Alfred he would quote their strength of prosperity came exceedingly cursed in terms of emotional wealth. In the most accurate and blunt possible turn of phrase: they were incompatible. Their french woman was an ‘aloof’ type more keen on decorating her doll and darling little boys, rather than acknowledging her arranged marriage to a work-obsessed brit. He could recall the loving pats he would get and Matthew and him sitting on a Saturday morning in a sunroom conservatory of their house in Surrey, England with their mother combing his ruthless cowlicks away; their father would be incessantly jabbering on the phone- something along the lines of investments and long term fail safes. They were 6 when they last saw that old house and it’s growing vines and English charm- his mother had decided to drag them to Canada, and despite the failed boutique business venture in Montreal, she had a trust fund large enough to keep them located there without work- obviously not enough to keep their father interested, Harry always was hard to please. He remembered the arguments that plagued the stairwell, the shouting they thought wasn’t audible through the twin’s bedroom walls. 
Harry was quick to file divorce the moment he got a venture in the USA. Turns out it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been arranged married to a woman once her family no longer pulls strings. Alfred went with dad. At least he was still dad back then- Alfred feels remorse when he does hear the word ‘Father’ tumble out Matthew’s mouth as if he was being scolded again. He remembers Matthew staying with mama, her pretty nails and thin arms wrapping around his brother as they said goodbye. 
Bad signal phone calls and some Summer camps were the only thing that kept the two siblings in contact, that and the occasional visit when dad couldn’t be arsed to deal with Al’s pestering. Prodigy of the academics, and exceeding in sports was the only way to get dad to put his phone down. He remembered Matthew on the phone complaining mama trying to bar him from hockey, or lamenting that mother didn’t see art as more than a hobby. So different huh? Matthew called a lot. Still close despite the distance. At least not till high school, if only Alfred had shut his mouth, if only he-
“Al? Ah? Has the..signal cut out or..?”Kiku’s voice wandered back into his head.
“I was asking if you’ve talked to your dad about-”
“No, I haven’t asked him about it. I haven’t even talked to Matthew about it. It’s getting late keeks- I should log-off, I’ve got an early lecture.."
----
Matthew's head felt subdued, despite the cackling cacophony of laughter that filled the room. His earlier attempts to get some water ended with him giggling with some random people- he could only really recognise the accent-tinged voice of Lukas, asking if he was alright. Of course, he was alright. He was here right? Everything was fine. Okay. good. Has this room always been this fuzzy? The kitchen counter seemed to stretch out forever in front of him and his mind wandered. God, he should not have smoked that much. He probably stank...everyone could probably smell him...oh fuck he’s a dumb idiot. Lukas must hate me.
“I don’t hate you Matthew- what are you going on about?” Shit could he read minds or was he talking, the Canadian’s inner voice seemed to be shouting but the pang only subsided with the tiniest sips of the overly clean tap water. 
“Jeez. I thought I told Mathias to not go overboard tonight...look Matthew I need you to tell me how you feel right now.”
Floaty. He felt floaty- but also like he’s sinking, melting into the tile floor and he can’t get up, the shallow attempts at sobering up felt like they were weighted with 10 years of baggage. There are so many voices in this house- has it always been this cramped? Had Lukas’tiles always been that baby blue? Oh god, he’s a horrible friend, he’s gonna be left here so fucking floaty, and he’s just gonna float away and everyone-
“Matthew- Matthew your phone man, Hej! Matthew! For god's sake” suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and someone reaching into his pockets- despite the sudden discomfort and manhandling, Matthew was too tired to do much but whine at whoever was fishing out his phone. he hated people touching him. Not now.
“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick- …. Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?. What? .. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” Lukas had moved the phone near to Matthew's ear, holding it with the other hand on his hip in annoyance but also a concern for his very paranoid and high friend.
“Mattie?” Oh, that silken voice that screamed of adventure and rock music, so nice- Gilbert was so nice. 
“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?”
“Mattie? Where are you?-”
“Above! I’m above!”
“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” Matthew chose not to answer but instead snort and push his glasses up before humming to his friend on the phone and pushing the little glass rectangle towards Lukas.
“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” This time Lukas answered stating that Tim was incapacitated on a couch somewhere.
“Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”
Suddenly Matthew’s heart rate jumped even higher, if he wasn’t already slightly over aware, now he was on overdrive. The phone had been on speaker and he heard mention of his brother. Alfred couldn’t know. If he knew it would be over. He can’t know. Never know. No. Nope definitely not.
“Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”
Matthew was mumbling. Mumbling and mumbling and god shit it was loud in here and people kept touching him and he just wanted people to stop touching him and fuck fuck fuck. He needed to be sober right now- this was not gonna end well. Breathing sucked. Everything sucked insanely right now. He saw Tim’s clunky shoes in front of him- since when was I crouching? He heard someone saw something and he could feel others watching and watching oh god people are watching, Tim? Hello Tim? 
“Matthew. Give me a colour” brown. “Why brown?” Brown because that was the colour of Tim’s shoes right then..he could trace the floor around the brown shoes...browner than the oak trees near his old house.
“How about another colour?” Blue. but like light blue. The kind you swaddle a baby in. blues that seem to almost be too simple and light.
“That's nice, where did you see blue?”
“In the- uh- …” he felt like choking a little bit but the words were coming out. “The kitchen has..blue tiles.” Everything was coming back down to earth and Matthew was starting to feel a bit better- even if his chest hurt a little. 
“How do you feel about red?” That was a dumb question. He answered. “I like red.” He loves red. Red is his hoodie. His hoodie which was being pushed into his arms right now as he stood up, and Tim’s face came into view, a slight worry masked with relief at his friend's recovery from the panic attack.
“I...I want to go home.” Matthew spoke as if a fog had cleared up, but he still felt slightly floaty as he was brought into a car with Tim by his side, and chaperoned home. He’ll think more about all of this later. He wanted to sleep.
-----
Gilbert didn’t like sleeping early on Saturday but then again not many people worked on Sundays. To be fair, Gilbert’s Sunday job was a temporary stand-in at the grocery shop for some lady who got pregnant. He just needed a bit more cash and was willing to spend a few weeks of bagging if it meant he could save up to see his uncle. He should probably sleep now so tomorrow he could get work done without feeling terrible, the diner dinner was already awkward enough.
He wondered what Matthew was doing. Matthew with his sweet smile, who seemed so different in front of his brother and especially with that guy Tim. Matthew who got headaches from too much sugar..who shared vanilla milkshakes. God Matthew was adorable. After scrolling through his social media (and perhaps doing some minor stalking of a certain boy’s Instagram) Gilbert was still not tired enough to call it a night. When did his Saturday nights become ‘wait til work’ days? He was getting a bit too bland he supposed. Ludwig was probably asleep. He should text Mattie- ask how he’s doing- perhaps that invite-only event ended already. Texting didn’t seem to do much. It wouldn’t be too rude to call right? Just to check on him.
“Hey, Birdie! I know you’re probably busy but-” 
“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick-” someone else’s voice reverberated down the line, causing great confusion.
“Is uh, Is Matthew Williams there?” Gilbert could hear laughter and hollering in the background but all seemed unimportant except the fact that someone distinctly NOT Matthew picked up the phone.
“Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?” The voice also sounded just as confused as himself, assuming that Gil knew where Matthew was.
“I don’t really know why I’m calling but now I’m worried, you are not him”
 “What?” 
“Just put him on the phone and let me talk to him.” Gilbert sighed as he heard the phone being passed, the fumbling noises making a ruckus on the phone.
“.. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” At least whoever this was trying.
With bated breath and a slight pause, the phone seemed to sound as if the jostling was over. “Mattie?” he called out hesitantly 
“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?” The voice sounded more happy than surprised but much too calm.
“Mattie? Where are you?-”
“Above! I’m above!” what the fuck is he talking about? He sounds completely out of it. Gilbert’s protective instincts kicked in, worried that something had happened to the Canadian. Hopefully, Matthew was as tolerant as his brother and wouldn’t be having a killer hangover tomorrow- he needed Matthew slightly sober tomorrow to at least talk about his project. 
“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” No response. Only a slight humming. Christ. The stranger must have been given the phone since they apologised for Matthew’s inability to cooperate- they asked if he could come to pick the boy up.
“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” shit. Tim was drunk too? What kind of stupid idiots both get drunk if they knew they had to go home. Jeez if that dutch dude got drunk he can only imagine what god awful party Matthew had stuck himself into. He would attempt to get Matthew, but his motorbike and drunk people do not exactly mix well.
Thinking hard he stared at his dorm room door- Alfred! He could call his friend’s brother. “Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”
Suddenly he heard a wail and some noises of shouting- Matthew in the background, only briefly-   “Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”
Gilbert could only hear a rustling and some more movement. With that, the phone seemed to hang up and he stared in complete panic at the phone.
A text.
M @ 12:47am : Hi. This is Matthew’s, Friend Lukas. Sorry for the hang-up, Matthew had a panic attack again. He is okay. They are being taken back to campus by Berwald, Tim will be dropped off back at his house too, nothing to worry about. You might want to help get Matthew to his room later though. Sorry for the trouble. Night.
Fucking hell. Gilbert slipped on some sweatpants, a jumper and some flip flops, already on his way out to meet up with this Berwald guy at the dorm entrance. 
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brendaonao3 · 5 years
Text
Running Into Seb (Third Time’s The Charm)
Okay, I’m home now, so I can finally post about my ridiculous evening watching a movie with Sebastian Stan.
Yes, you read that right.
Wait, let me back up a hot second...
For those that are new, and/or don’t remember, Seb and I have run into each other at my local movie theatre a couple of times now (see here and here), but tonight’s was just...
Okay, so, I decide to go after work to see First Man tonight, because it’s out and Ryan Gosling and SPACE and, y’know, the usual reasons. So, I’m at Arclight and I buy my ticket and run into the restroom super quick before the movie starts and as I’m leaving the restroom, who should I see on my way to the concession booth...
Yep, you guessed it.  (No, I did NOT actually run into him this time, so thank God for small favors.) Anyway, he smiles, I smile and internally freak out and practically run to stand in line for my bottle of water (where I ran into someone else I used to work with, but that’s another story).  Anyway, a minute later, Seb comes out of the restroom and...
Literally heads into MY theatre.  Where I am about to go to watch First Man.
Oh fuck, I think to myself. Followed by, of course Seb is seeing the Neil Armstrong movie about SPACE, the man is a bigger nerd than I am ffs.  Followed by oh fuck.  Because it bears repeating.
Now, Arclight also has assigned seating. So, I go to my seat...and I am in the same ROW as Sebastian fucking Stan.  We are the only 2 people IN the row.  I say again, oh fuck.
I studiously do not look at him or in his direction the entire movie. (Which, btw, was REALLY great, highly recommended, cannot say enough good things.)  But I am AWARE that I am essentially watching a movie WITH Sebastian Stan just a few seats down and it’s just...it’s really weird, okay what EVEN is my life. (But hey, at least a barista didn’t embarrass me this time, so win-win!)
Anyway, film ends, we get up, he leaves, I leave, and I think to myself, self, you’ve run into him THREE TIMES now you have to at least ask for a pic this time, the universe won’t keep giving you these gifts forever...
So, I tap him on the arm once we’re outside
Me: So, what’d you think of the movie?
Seb: Oh, man, I loved the movie (looks up from his phone) Oh hey, you were in the theatre with me (and SMILES)
Me: (melting a little, because, well) Yeah, I was...I’m looking forward to Destroyer.
Seb: Thanks, man!
Me: So, um, would you mind if I got a pic with you?
Seb: (still smiling) Sure, let’s do it!
Me (pulling up my camera on my phone, and yeah, I had forgotten that my home screen is THIS PIC OF ME AND CHRIS *facepalm*)
Seb (over my shoulder) (looks down and starts chuckling): Nice background
Me (totally turning red): Yeah, um, sorry
Seb: Nah, it’s cute
Me: (because I am incapable of shutting my mouth) Me or Chris?
Seb: (chuckling again) Both of you
I take the damn picture before I can say anything else stupid (/o\)
Seb: (nods in approval) I like that one, you should make it your new background
Me: (!!!!) Yeah, I’ll, um, get right on that and, uh, thank you!
Seb: No problem! Enjoy the rest of your night!
Me: Yeah, you too
And then I ran right to the bar to get a goddamn drink because what EVEN is my life?!??!?!!
And now he really really really really REALLY has to stop coming to my theatre because I now have a complex :D
(And yes, I am totally making this my new background on my phone, duh :D)
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unfolded73 · 5 years
Text
Dress Rehearsals (1/1) - avengers ff
SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS ENDGAME! Do not click if you haven’t seen it.
Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner. Rated Teen for swears, I guess. ~800 words written this morning in a burst of feelings. Thanks to @j-philly-b for suggesting the ending.
I repeat, Avengers Endgame spoilers belong the cut.
.......
Pepper eyed the sofa Bruce had settled on and wondered if this new version of him was enough at peace with himself that he wouldn’t take offense if she asked him to move to a nice, sturdy chair.
She met his glance as she curled up in her own chair next to the fireplace, a cup of tea in hand. Most of the funeral attendees had left, thank God, and Morgan had finally, mercifully fallen asleep. Pepper stared into the fire, wondering how much longer the lockbox of her grief would stay closed. She could feel the strain of holding it in, a pressure on her chest and between her eyes.
“I’ve had so many fucking dress rehearsals for this,” she murmured.
“Dress rehearsals?”
She turned her head enough to catch a glimpse of Bruce’s profile.
“I’ve been certain Tony was dead… I’ve lost count. Four times? Five?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t even count the times back when I thought he might drink himself to death, or work himself to death.” She smiled. “In the old days I thought some woman he’d wronged might murder him. I’ve practiced this grief over and over. Gamed out what I would do literally thousands of times.”
“Does that help now?”
She tried to laugh, but a choked off gasp emerged from her throat instead. “No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Because even when any hope seemed lost, even when logic would tell me there was no possible way Tony could come back to me, there was always a part of my brain that knew that he would. A part that wasn’t surprised when he walked out of that fucking desert, or came back to Earth in a spaceship. He’s… he was… charmed. Invulnerable. He couldn’t just… die. Not Tony Stark. Not Iron Man.”
Bruce made a soft noise of agreement.
“So now, even though I… I watched it happen, I just… there’s a little voice in my head that thinks he’ll somehow come back from even this. Which is ridiculous, I know. I know that’s not going to happen. He’s dead. Really this time.” She closed her eyes, focusing on the after-image of the flames on her retinas. “I tell myself that a hundred times a day, and I still can’t help this feeling that he’s going to come strutting through that door any minute.”
Silence hung between them for several long seconds. It felt like she and Bruce and the world were holding their collective breath.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this,” she said. Pepper Potts was the strong one, the long-suffering one who could take anything in stride. Pepper Potts didn’t open her heart up on the table and offer its contents to people.
“Of course you should,” Bruce said.
“Someone said to me today, ‘at least you had some good years together.’” Another of those choking laughs escaped her throat. “I swear to God, I wanted to summon one of the suits and punch her into next week.”
Bruce chuckled . “That would have been pretty funny if you had.”
“Yeah, we had some good years together. I know that. But we were supposed to…” Tears welled up then, and she surrendered herself to them at last, letting them roll down her cheeks. “We were supposed to have…” She swallowed with difficulty, unable to get more words out.
“The universe owes him -- and you -- an enormous debt.”
“The universe can go fuck itself.”
Another chuckle from Bruce. “Yeah.”
“I told him to go. And I knew what the risk was, what the stakes were. I mean, it’s not like either of us could have shut the world out and kept living this idyllic life with our daughter, knowing that he had the knowledge to save everyone. But there’s a small, vicious part of me that will always wish we could have.” Pepper swallowed back a sob, because if she really got going, she feared she might scream. Scream and scream and never stop.
The sofa creaked ominously, and then she felt a huge, heavy hand settle on her shoulder. It was enormously comforting, like the weight of it was there to prevent her from zooming up into space and trying to tear apart the cosmos for what it had done to her family.
“I’m going to miss him forever,” she said.
“I know. Me too.”
Pepper let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping as a little bit of the tension she’d been holding in them drained away. There was something strangely freeing in admitting to herself that a part of her would grieve Tony forever. And another part of her would move on and live. For herself, for Morgan, and for the rest of the sorry world that Tony had sacrificed himself to save.
She took a drink from her cup and grimaced; she’d let another cup of tea go cold. Standing, she turned toward the kitchen to make another. “By the way, Bruce, if you break that sofa, you’re getting me a new one.”
He stood, head ducked under the beams of the ceiling, his face a mixture of contrition and amusement. “You sound just like Tony.”
Pepper smiled. “Yeah.”
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foxofthedesert · 5 years
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How to Tame a Siren | A DinahSiren Arrow FF
So, like every other DinahSiren shipper, I loved the scene after Laurel's petition to have Oliver released is denied and Dinah stops her from going after the judge. Dinah has some pretty impressive Siren calming skills, so I wanted to explore that in the setting of an established relationship.
If you’d rather read/comment on AO3, click here.
"Fuck!"
Bursting up from the sofa, Laurel heaves the notepad in her hand clear across the apartment, shouting into the effort with almost enough force to trigger her sonic ability. For what must be the fifteenth time this evening, she had read through an amended opening statement for the trial due to start tomorrow morning only to find it yet again utterly inadequate. Which in turn made her feel inadequate. Which then made her angry.
This trial is by far the most critical of her career. It is make or break stuff, really, of the sort that could catapult her from a zealous state D.A. into the realm of public political stardom. The potential to extend her sphere of influence into the elusive halls of power is too tempting to resist when Mayors, State Reps, and Governors – hell, even a few prominent US Senators – were made from emerging victorious in similarly high profile spectacles. Being District Attorney of a metropolitan area has certainly afforded her a tantalizing sample of what real power tastes like, and she has wantonly indulged herself in the heady flavor, but there is no sense in denying she wants more. The limited prestige of local prominence is not enough. Her desire to join the exclusive ranks of the political elite only intensifies the closer she gets to breaking through the threshold of a ceiling that appears increasingly less impenetrable. Just because she has mostly bottled up her dark side does not mean she has ceded her ambitions. First meta-human President sure does have a nice ring to it, after all.
Since giving up the unrivaled adrenaline rush of hunting down enemies then mercilessly disposing of them, Laurel has needed to focus those chaotic energies into more productive outlets. Joining Oliver's gang of mostly insufferable do-gooders proved an ineffective option, as such selfless service could never satisfy her ferocious, ultra-competitive drive. Oh, she tried suiting up for a while as a means to sate her frequent urges to commit violence, but found it to be at best a stop-gap solution. Fighting did help, and still does, to mollify the malefic creature crawling beneath her skin everyone so lovingly refers to as Black Siren, just not enough.
Sadly prowling the shadowy streets of Star City and pummeling members of the criminal element she once would have casually commiserated with had one glaring flaw: every night when her patrol was done she had to go home and try to stuff Siren back into the little square box labeled: DANGER MONSTER INSIDE, DO NOT OPEN. On a good day of pretending to be someone she isn't, that box barely survives the inexhaustible fury of the prisoner it was specifically constructed to contain.
The only alternative to giving in to the insidious temptation to become Black Siren again was to supplement the lackluster approach of vigilantism by funneling some of that excess energy into her day job. So that's what she has done, having adopted a method of practicing law that mirrors her no-holds-barred approach to fighting. Ruthless, aggressive, largely merciless, occasionally reckless, always a sharpened blade in hand ready to be metaphorically driven home. These were some of the descriptive words and phrases she has heard attributed to her tenure as District Attorney, meant as criticism by her opponents and praise by her supporters. Whether offered as complimentary or disparaging, she embraces them all wholeheartedly. Ultimately she is who she is and forever shall be, only now she focuses on being an edgy, remorseless, vindictive, judgmental, angry person in the courtroom so she can just be Laurel at home.
That said, she would be lying to insist she never wishes to return to the simplicity of Siren's outlook on life. Being a good guy is hella complicated and terribly stressful. There is an undeniable advantage to not giving two shits about anyone other than herself. Doing the right thing is so often thankless and contradictory to her temperament that she suffers from far more anxiety than she ever did causing mayhem whilst arrayed in the signature black leather and fishnets. Some mornings she finds it hard to force herself out the front door of the apartment for the gigantic knot of caustic dread that has taken up residence in her belly. But she has yet to let that irrational angst defeat her, in no small part thanks to the stubbornness that makes her a survivor. That, and there is one very special person for whom she would do almost anything who does not allow her to surrender to her worst characteristics or her very real fears.
On nights like tonight, though, when she is frustrated beyond all reckoning and has been bullied to the bleeding edge of her tolerance with the expectation placed upon her to do things the 'right way,' preventing a full blown Siren-apocalypse tests the limits of her carefully developed self-control. And when she is arguing with herself internally like she is right now? Yeah, that doesn't help at all. Doesn't bode well for her sanity, either.
What the hell are you doing, you deluded moron? The villainous part of Laurel's psyche is being so excessively obnoxious tonight that she is unable to ignore it. You're no Clarence Darrow. Hell, Gomez Addams is more qualified than you are for this shit. You know what that means, don't you? It means you're gonna fuck this up just like you do everything else. It means you're gonna make a fool of yourself in front of some of the most powerful people in the entire country in addition to those sappy morons you've started hanging out with. It also means a killer is gonna walk free. Good thing it would be oh-so-easy to make sure that never happens! Betcha a crisp Nixon or whoever the hell is on a hundred here it wouldn't be hard to intercept prisoner transpo and take care of that problem. Permanently.
"No! I can't. I won't..." Shaking her head frantically, Laurel is as much frustration over her internal dialogue with an imaginary version of her worst self as she is over responding audibly to the obvious goading. Agitated past the point of reason, she begins to pace the area in front of the sofa like a captive tiger whose juicy meal was left just out of reach of her chains. To ward off a total meltdown, she slips into the tried and true method she was taught to master the monster within.
"First," Ollie had told her taking up a very convincing zen pose, "close your eyes and envision a harbor of peace, somewhere you are totally safe. Somewhere you feel secure enough to allow yourself to be vulnerable. A place that you can be your true self, absent of all baggage weighing you down and as in touch with your former innocence as is possible. See it? Good. Now go there. Immerse yourself in your surroundings. Let the familiarity and serenity and warmth seep into your bones and wash away the fear and rage."
That part was always easy enough for Laurel. When she first started training in Oliver's regimen, she used to envision her house on Earth-2 back before her mother miscarried after an accident and her parents started fighting all the time, then divorced a couple years later, and soon after her father crawled head first into the bottle. Back then, she was exactly like every other happy little girl in America. Mommy's angel and Daddy's pride and joy, she was celebrated for her advanced intellect and a gift for language that manifested early alongside a clear affinity for mediation and a prodigious grasp for very vague concepts of justice. She can remember her Mom and Dad playfully arguing about whose footsteps she would follow in. Was she going to become a career academic like her Mom? Or a cop like her Dad? They never could agree. In the end, Laurel landed somewhere between all on her own, not that it mattered when her idyllic life came to a screeching halt not long after her eighth birthday. But the memory of that former happiness was enough to center her in the midst of the storm of unfettered darkness that was Black Siren.
Like Ollie, however, she has since moved on from that initial visualization. Her refuge is no longer a place but a person.
Dinah.
Just the thought of that name creates a puddle of warmth low in Laurel's belly that swirls wonderfully northward. Once reaching her chest, it then spreads into her arms and fingers, which begin to tingle with anticipation that will have to wait til later for fulfillment.
Her eyes slide shut involuntarily as she imagines Dinah in all of her glory – olive skin that is every bit as soft as it looks, thick curly brown hair she envies as much as she loves, entrancing green eyes that reveal the mysteries of the universe to an infinitely curious mind, and sinfully lush lips turned up in a smile only she gets to see. A distinctive smell washes over her as the very human vision of her haven coalesces within the mist of her memory, cherries and the subtle hint of Tom Ford Jasmin Rouge, and it is accompanied by the feel of warm fingers and palms sliding against and caressing the bare flesh of her arms, shoulders, sides, hips, and along the small of her back. Shivering at the ghost of a touch for which she has acquired an insatiable addiction, she also hears a slightly husky yet alluring feminine voice whose dulcet tones are capable of penetrating any resistance constructed by a heart that has been abused so many times there is no reckoning the wounds. That voice – Dinah's unmistakable voice – is telling her to be strong, is encouraging her with reminders of all the good she's done since rejoining the wider world, and comforts her with assurances that she is loved and always will be.
Like the arrival of a gentle morning tide, Laurel feels calm wash over her and her monstrous side recedes a step into the darkness.
"Next," Oliver would say, "concentrate on regulating your breathing and then focus on bringing your heart rate down. Elevated BP and oxygen supply to the brain only fuels the runaway chain chemical reaction going on. Control is what we are after, so strive for it with single-minded tenacity."
Again, easy enough, though primarily thanks to her gorgeous, heroic, compassionate, unshakable anchor – the woman in whom she has learned to trust and for whom she would take on the whole world. Taking slow, deep breaths, Laurel hones in on the sound of her heartbeat and then compares it with the memory of the one steadily beating beneath her ear most nights. That gentle thrumming cadence, so reliable and soothing, is a unique pacifier that has proved a startlingly effective cure to chronic insomnia.
Funny, she never believed books and movies that made romance out into some mythical cure to all the ailments of the human condition. She still doesn't about a lot of it. Not only do her psychological scars preclude her from such vapid sentimentality, experience has taught her that love can often be every bit as destructive as it is some wholesome force with only benevolent intentions and outcomes. There was a time in the not-so-distant past in which love inspired her to commit atrocities she will never atone for or forget, acts of such unfathomable depravity they eat away at her restored conscience to the point she has started wrenching awake from the throes of a vivid nightmare recounting on of them. And in the present, love has yet to cure her infrequent depressive fits any more than it has rid her of the endlessly reoccurring compulsion to murder the terminally moronic legal-lackeys who annoy her on a daily basis. But! She has discovered, to her immense delight, that popular media was right about one thing. It really is so much easier to fall asleep ensconced in the strong arms of the one person she loves more than anything or anyone else while listening to said person's heartbeat.
Unbidden yet beyond her capacity to resist, Laurel's lips quirk up into an amused smile. Felicity was so insufferable when Laurel admitted to Dinah turning her into a cuddle bug because a girl's night ended up with her having too liberally imbibed the delicious spirits served at their favorite 'friend date' haunt. A few other tidbits about herself also slipped free that night. One of them was of a particularly intimate nature and involved a graphic description of her all time favorite taste and smell, which got her into so much fucking trouble less than a week later because Felicity is literally incapable of keeping a secret, especially when in company with one Curtis Holt who has flipped his gossip switch on.
Lord have mercy! But isn't Dinah a splendorous vision when she's royally pissed off.
"Having restored a sense of equilibrium," Oliver would instruct once the first two phases were complete, "carefully corral the monster inside into a place from which it can't escape. There is no other option than compartmentalizing. Believe me, I've tried everything else. Embracing the monster only gives it validation and power over you that you will find nearly impossible to regain. Ignoring it will only feed it's rage. And trying to lock it away forever will only make it all the more vicious and bloodthirsty when it inevitably escapes imprisonment. No, the only way to deal with what people like you and I have to deal with is to control it fanatically. That means intensively training to unleash it with purpose instead of reckless abandon, very much like a weapon, and at all other times strictly segregating it. So put it in a box or toss it in a cage or seal it away in a cell, never lose track of the key, and then keep a close watch on it until the next moment arrives when you need it again.
This is the hardest part. Not because Siren doesn't go into her cage like she's been conditioned to, but because Laurel always feels bad about banishing that part of her into such desolate isolation. Without it, she probably would not have survived the repeated traumas she endured without going batshit insane.
Being Black Siren was not always the study in mustache-twirling villainy as it was when she relocated to this Earth. At first, she was on a crusade to secure righteous retribution for her father and Ollie and all the broken, hapless, vulnerable prey like her who succumbed to one or many of the soulless sharks circling the chummed waters in the wake of a personal tragedy. If only she knew what she does now, that revenge never goes as planned, is never as satisfying as one hopes it will be, and ultimately leads one down a rabbit hole of infinite darkness.
When killing Brett Collins – the drunken bastard responsible for her father's death – didn't quench the hatred that had taken root in her heart, she started hitting the streets on a regular basis. Before long, and with the help of an assassin named Sandra who took an unusual interest in her, she was learning how to fight with more than just her meta ability. Encounters with targets got progressively more out of control until she was not only either putting them in the hospital or the morgue, but she lost her ability to differentiate between just punishment and violence for the sake of personal pleasure. By the time Zoom coerced her into his cohort of meta-terrorists, there wasn't much left of the Laurel who was once the biggest daddies girl to ever live and who would have gladly endured a thousand scourgings or literally ran through fire for her beloved Ollie.
If only she could go back in time and tell her younger self how futile that path was, how empty and deprived of meaning her life became, she could have been spared so much unnecessary pain and so many avoidable stains on her conscience. Sadly, time on goes in one direction unless one is conscripted by an intergalactic agency with honest-to-God H.G. Wells time machines. Sara would not look kindly upon theft of The Waverider, even it was for a very good cause by her sister's doppelganger. Nor is Laurel is inclined to undertake such an endeavor. She has many regrets, far more than she can process at any one time, but the desolate highway of anguish she trod to get to where she is also made her who she is. And while she is not always at peace with the countless sins she has committed and never will be, she is unwilling to give up what she so serendipitously stumbled upon here in the Star City of Earth-1. With Dinah Drake of all people.
Three years ago, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt if someone would have suggested she would refuse to trade the sanctimonious bitch extraordinaire she first met on Lian Yu even if tempted with the opportunity to get either her father or her Ollie back – or both. And yet here she is, confidently acknowledging she would do just that without so much as a twinge of self-recrimination or guilt.
Dinah is, without question, the best thing that has ever happened to her, and there is nothing she won't do to keep from fucking up what they have. She can't say that about anyone else. For Quentin, Laurel had let her true self peek through the curtain of protection over her heart that was Black Siren, was even willing to let that self share the spotlight with her villainous alter ego. But for Dinah, she learned how to put Siren in a gigantic, cold, black box only to ever let her out when she's useful. There are no words to describe how huge a deal taking that leap was for Laurel. No one really would or could understand it except for Dinah and Oliver, both of whom appreciate her sacrifice to varying to degrees.
Oliver has a monster of his own to contend with and, since he agreed to train her how to deal with hers, no longer looks at her with that judgmental loathing and disappointment that once tainted their every interaction. Hell, he has even come to respect her for what she can offer beyond her rival combat skills and vague similarities to the Laurel he lost because he knows her daily struggles better than anyone else. They have developed a tentative friendship that neither are in a rush to experiment with for fear of triggering the other's traumatic memories of lost loved ones that wear their faces. To them, this amiable detente is working wonderfully, therefore it is perfectly sufficient.
Dinah, though...well, Dinah was the first member of the Team Arrow clique to care for the Laurel that is without any ulterior motives underscoring her overtures. It Dinah's unexpected and numerous offerings of support or encouragement that kept Laurel from making some mistakes that might well have re-immersed her in the ocean of hate, bitterness, and rage that was Black Siren. Dinah also had experience with taking out her pain on those who perpetrated it, has spilled blood and killed with her abilities in the pursuit of revenge. One of the people who hurt Dinah the worst was, in fact, Laurel, and that she was able to forgive Laurel for Vinny even a little bit spoke to the absolute strength of her character. A lot of vigilantes squawk about being heroes and set about proving how awesome they are with their fists or guns or knives or bows and arrows. Dinah proved she was a hero by showing compassion to the person for which she had the least reason to do so. To a practiced pessimist like Laurel, that alone made Dinah worth trusting, worth embracing, worth appreciating...worth loving. So when to her shock and inconceivable joy Dinah admitted to returning her seemingly hopeless affections, there was no way in hell she was gonna miss the chance to seize an opportunity she knew instinctively would develop into a once in a lifetime love. And it has been exactly that.
Objectively speaking, Laurel is fully aware she has no right to be as happy as she is. Thing about is she is too happy to care. So what if some of Dinah's friends on Team Arrow still don't trust her. So what if public opinion of their relationship is not always rosy. So what if their problematic history rears its ugly head and they fight like dogs and cats every now and then. So what if the whole fucking world disapproves of what they have. So long as Dinah is healthy and happy, anyone who has a negative opinion about their relationship can take a really short walk off a very tall bridge. Including Siren, who bitches and moans at every opportunity about how soft and pathetic she's become, like she is right now at this very moment. Sometimes Laurel is tempted to consult with Caity Snow about how best to address unwelcome snark from an alter ego. Or a therapist to deal with what might be a serious psychological disorder...
Tough shit, you salty bitch. Time to go back in the hole, Laurel tells Siren as she mentally escorts her darker self, bound hand and foot, to the ebony container she erected in her mind.
Once the beast is safely back in her inescapable box, Laurel returns to the task at hand. This opening statement has to be perfect and by God it will be. She promised a little girl named Susie that the man who took her Mommy and Daddy away would never hurt anyone else ever again. That's a promise she has no intention of breaking. And if successfully prosecuting this case propels her to a notoriety she can advantageously employ to further her career? All the better.
So I'm Meredith Brooks with a functional brain and better hair. Go ahead and sue me. She chuckles under her breath at her own joke.
Determination renewed, Laurel fetches the discarded notepad and deposits herself back on the sofa with renewed purpose. She has an important promise to keep and lofty future prospects to secure. That in mind, she sets about achieving both with a determination that matches the gleam in her eye.
"By the time I'm through, that jury will be eating out of the palm of my hand," she comments to the empty apartment, then begins to read once more
With a sigh of relief, Dinah pushes her key into the lock of her apartment door. God, it's good to be home.
All day long she's been a gigantic ball of stress. Three active, high profile cases have taken up permanent residence on her desk, demanding her attention which is already spread thin. Not only is she having to keep a close eye on the progress being made by six detectives and the entire forensics team, but she is also juggling quarterly performance evaluations on top of the Mayor's request-that-wasn't-a-request to conduct a thorough review of department spending in an effort to streamline the budget. All of that on top of her second job, unpaid by the way, patrolling the streets of Star City as the Black Canary means Dinah is way past due for some down time. Thankfully the end of her current circus act is in sight. An arrest was made today in one of the cases and she signed off on the last of the evaluations. Another two days and the budgetary review will be completed. Once that's done, she intends to take an entire week of vacation and God help anyone who dares to stand in her way.
The only problem with that plan is a certain blonde who has been perhaps the largest drain on Dinah's emotional and psychological reserves. Laurel is under even more pressure than she is, as impossible it seems, and has been working herself stupid since landing the case of the Governor's slain son and daughter-in-law. Dinah can't remember the last time she arrived to what would ordinarily be a relaxing evening at home with her partner of eighteen months.
Normally Laurel would be flitting about the kitchen while doing her best to cook an edible dinner, her golden hair twirled up into a messy bun, dressed in comfy attire like leggings and a loose, off the shoulder sweater or a raggedy old tee. That, or she would be sprawled out on the couch watching MMA or whatever live boxing match might be on, take-out waiting for them both on the dining table. Strangely enough, while Laurel was deadly serious about her job, she is not the type to bring work home with her. This case ended that preferable trend. It has consumed her to a frightening degree. Even when she's at home, her nose is in a law book or she's pouring through case files to find avenues through which to attack the insufferably smug in his wealth and privilege scumbag who – while clearly deranged and guilty as hell – has the best team of defenders dirty money can buy.
To be honest, Dinah is torn between feeling intense pride in Laurel's obsession for justice and a very real concern that said obsession might precipitate a backslide into dangerous habits that don't lead anywhere good. While she has long since forgiven Laurel for what went down with Vince, has even fallen so far beyond head over heels in love with her, a malicious specter lingers upon the horizon. Black Siren, while distant, is forever a threat to the mostly normal and incredibly happy life they have built together. Dinah knows all too well that for people like her and Laurel who have binged upon the sickly sweet delicacies offered by the worst aspects of human nature, succumbing to those old addictions is ever a single taste away.
For the past two weeks she's lain awake in their bed at night until exhaustion finally pulled her under the cresting waves of slumber, unable to fall asleep swiftly as she usually does due to slightly irrational fretting over Laurel's deteriorating mental state. Staring endlessly at Laurel's face, relaxed in repose but still troubled by demons that haunt her dreams, does nothing to quell the creeping panic that seems intent on digging further beneath Dinah's skin with every minute doubt or fear. Never has she been so invested in another person. Not even Vince. And that, more than anything else, is what fuels intense, paranoid fantasies of losing Laurel.
There is no accounting how many times she has conjured up what might happen if a not guilty verdict is returned in this crucial, impending trial. Of how she would be forced to watch Laurel's vibrant olive green eyes turn cold, and of their tense evening at home with all of Dinah's attempts to assuage Laurel's simmering rage failing miserably. Of Laurel eventually tiring of being pawed at and patronized with another you did your best, of her snapping at Dinah and then storming out of their apartment with death emblazoned all over her striking features. Of the morning news reporting the grisly murder of the real estate tycoon recently acquitted of murdering the Governor's son and daughter-in-law. And then the worst part, Laurel sneaking back home the next night, streaks of dried blood staining her blonde mane any ugly rusted shade of red, bags under bloodshot eyes blurry from not having slept on a manic euphoria-induced bender of senseless violence and palpable self-loathing.
Just the thought of anything remotely resembling that scenario coming to pass causes Dinah's stomach to knot with dread like a gnarled tree trunk from some old horror movie. There is little she could conjure up equally as capable of turning her guts into liquid and her heart into a block of burning ice. It is literally the worst possible outcome of this case, one that Dinah does not think she could survive. Losing Vince twice made her say and do and want things she never imagined she could back when she was a young and idealistic Marine. She had thought watching him die as Laurel screamed into his ear was her breaking point. She was wrong. So wrong. Losing Laurel to Black Siren again? That, Dinah thinks, might actually shatter her into so many jagged pieces that a veritable army of puzzle geeks couldn't put her back together.
Imagine then, how quickly panic sets in when she enters their apartment only to find Laurel on the sofa, bent over a notepad on the coffee table, hands tugging at her hair and an ugly sneer marring her pretty lips. After tossing her purse and keys onto the stand next the door, Dinah stalls for a few seconds to gather her courage before risking a breech of the fraught silence.
"Hey..." Dinah winces as much at how tremulous the lame greeting was as at the way Laurel stiffens at hearing it. She berates herself internally, knowing the last thing Laurel needs right now is to hear the doubts regarding her sanity in her girlfriend's voice. After clearing her throat and shaking off the nerves as best she can, Dinah tries again, this time aiming for and successfully achieving a warm concern that any good girlfriend should have upon discovering her partner in such a state. "You okay? You look like you're about ten seconds away from putting Mt. St. Helens to shame."
For a second Laurel just sits there stiff as a board, causing Dinah to hold her breath. She lets it out with a silent prayer of thanks when Laurel heaves a sigh and then runs a shaky hand through her hair.
"It's this fucking case," Laurel says, choice of vocabulary not that surprising. The more stressed – or aroused – she gets, the more f-bombs she drops. "And this fucking opening statement." She gestures wildly toward the notepad as if it were a criminal on trial for felonious assault. "It's just...it's complete and utter dogshit. Patrick Star could construct a better, more persuasive argument. This is the biggest trial of my fucking career and I can't even write an opening statement that would convince a fucking six year old that peas are nasty shit and ice cream is delicious angel food. And I'm just so fucking frustrated and..."
Trailing off, Laurel growls, then sighs again before finally shifting so she can look at Dinah. There is a liquid desperation in her eyes that reveals how close to the edge she is currently teetering.
"I'm at my wits end here, Dinah. I cannot afford to fuck this up. My entire fucking future is riding on the outcome of this case. The Governor has been watching my every move, breathing down my neck twenty-four seven, pressuring me to deliver on this with an unspoken or else hanging over my head like a fucking Damoclean Sword of political homicide. Not only that, but I have an opportunity to really put myself out there, you know? Everyone knows me as Laurel Lance, back from the dead, used to be the Black Fucking Canary or Laurel Lance the unerring crusader for justice. But you know what? I have ambitions. I have aspirations. I'm not that meek Laurel that derived genuine satisfaction putting bad guys behind bars. You know that better than anyone.
"I need challenges, I need high stakes to survive. I can't do mundane, Dinah. I just can't. I like the limelight. I thrive in it. It's exciting and addictive and I'm not ready to fade into obscurity. I don't want to just be a D.A. for a couple more terms and then slink into private practice with my tail between my legs. I want more. I wanna shoot for the stars, 'cause otherwise what's the fucking point? And this case? This is my chance to do that. To make a name for myself in influential circles beyond Star City. Beyond California, even! People in D.C. are following this case. Did you know that? And yet as with everything else, I'm fixing prove to them that I'm nothing but a gargantuan fucking failure. Fuck!"
That last exclamation is punctuated by a fist slamming so forcefully into the dense oak coffee table all of the knickknacks on it clatter and shuffle or are knocked off entirely.
For a second, Dinah just stares at Laurel, a bit flabbergasted at that tirade. All of it, not just the abuse of the table. She's always known a quiet life was not in the cards so long as they are together. Laurel was right about that. There is no getting around who Laurel is as a person. She is as she said. An ambitious daredevil who loves the spotlight and craves the trappings of power. Turning over a newish leaf has not changed those aspects of her character, which is perfectly fine with Dinah. She loves Laurel exactly as she is. It's just...well, she never quite connected those traits to a desire for a political career, and that's exactly what the subtext indicated. Maybe she simply never wanted to. Being the partner of a city councilwoman at most was all she really envisioned.
Now that she's been clued in that Laurel is aiming higher, way higher if her ability to read Laurel is a reliable judge, she finds herself surprisingly willing to make some concessions to help facilitate her partner's so-called aspirations. Is it ideal for her to put their private life up for even more public consumption than it already is? No, not really. But if that's what she has to do to accommodate Laurel's professional ambitions, then she is up for giving it a try. That isn't to say it will work. There is every chance putting their relationship under a microscope will signify impending doom. However, there is also a chance that in helping Laurel spread her wings and fly, she'll discover something new about herself as well. And that is an exciting prospect for someone who is also known for pushing boundaries. The leaps from farm girl to Marine to cop to Black Canary have all been pretty spectacular. So what's one more?
First Lady of California does sound kinda nice.
"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? Did I finally scare some sense into you?"
Startled out of her thoughts, Dinah returns her focus to Laurel, whose brows are drawn in tightly and whose lips are pursed in that moody way no one else can accurately replicate. She hadn't meant to leave Laurel hanging, and evidently Laurel took it the wrong way.
Recognizing this moment as critical, Dinah springs into action. "No, no," she says, moving as she talks. "I was just a little stunned by that...outburst. I'm actually kinda glad you got all that out in the open instead of dwelling upon it until it ate you alive. Just...look, I know you're upset, but there's really no need to take it out on the furniture. I assure you, Counselor, the coffee table is innocent."
Ignoring Laurel's scoff, Dinah strides over to the sofa where she approaches danger without a second thought. Three years ago she would never have been so bold seeing as this Laurel Lance is a tempestuous woman by any conceivable standard of comparison. At least once every couple of weeks, at minimum on a monthly basis, Laurel summons up potentially catastrophic hurricanes, which if left to their devices would plow through their relationship with all the tact and delicacy of an irate bull in a china shop. Thankfully by now Dinah has plenty of experience dealing with them. Her ability to forecast Laurel's moods is legendary, and as for actually dealing with them? Well, their friends don't call her the Siren Whisperer for nothing…
Once at the arm of the couch, she bends over to reach for Laurel's hand. Expecting resistance, she is pleasantly surprised when her girlfriend responds positively by taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.
"C'mere for a sec," Dinah says, tugging on Laurel's hand. When Laurel does not obey, she tries again with a bit more force, then adds, "Opening statements can wait, Miss Lance. Right now there is an amazing, loving, and extraordinarily patient girlfriend in dire need of a hug that she happens to think will be mutually beneficial. Perhaps we can have a sidebar to address that very critical and time sensitive matter."
A crack in Laurel's foul mood appears in the form of one corner of her lips quirking up. "Going to shamelessly manipulate me with flowery legalese are you?"
Dinah smirks. "Depends. Is it working?"
Shaking her head, Laurel chuckles. A second later, she pushes off the couch to stand. "Always does," she says, and when pulled close, melts into Dinah's waiting embrace.
For the longest time they just stand there in their living room holding each other, gently swaying to the melody of an important song that Dinah hums for both of their enjoyment. Slowly but surely the coil of irritation and rage that was Laurel unfurls until she is pliant and relaxed and fully ensconced in the heady atmosphere of their love. As sense and control return to Laurel, neither are in a hurry to escape the cocoon of warmth surrounding them, so they remain locked together, indulging in the sensation of their bodies in full contact from hips to shoulders, reveling in one another's scent, hands exploring fit frames both over and under items of clothing, all the while exchanging languid kisses or foreheads resting together as they stare at one other with indescribable adoration and devotion on full display.
This is one of Dinah's favorite things to do – just be with the woman she loves in her arms as every last one of her cares fades away into the background. Her buddies in the Marines always used to affectionately tease her about being so touchy-feely with her romantic partners. Said that real Marines stormed the beaches, fought like devils, then extracted with all due diligence. Of course, they were just breaking her balls, as most of them were unarguably whipped, but she never did escape their nickname for her: Huggy Bear. The label didn't bother Dinah. On the contrary, she wore it with pride. In the field, she was all Marine but at home she was all woman. Those that love her understand and accept the dichotomy. Still do.
Laurel took a while to adjust, having never been the cuddly type, but she has since been at least partially converted to Dinah's soft approach to romance. Which is great because now Dinah can throw on some sultry jazz whenever she's in the mood and drag Laurel into the living room to slow dance to Etta James's sultry crooning, Miles Davis' soulful trumpeting, or Charlie Parker's impassioned saxophone until their feet and legs ache. There are also times just like this when both are content to dwell inside the warm bubble of their love without a care for anything or anyone else. Enveloped by Laurel's smell, remnants of hazelnut coffee on her breath and the gentle fragrant spice of her perfume, and blanketed by the love pouring out from Laurel through her eyes and lips and fingertips, the entire world could go up in flames and Dinah couldn't be bothered to give a damn. This is her heaven, and it if were up to her she would never leave it.
But as Solomon so wisely wrote many thousands of years ago, there is a time for everything under heaven to end. As comfy and happy as she is right now, the reason she initiated this embrace remains an elephant in the room that must be addressed. She can't let Laurel go on like this or the next time she might come home to a trashed apartment. Or worse.
Breaking away from Laurel, albeit reluctantly, Dinah maneuvers them both back to the couch. After seating herself, she encourages Laurel to join her.
"Guess there's no getting out of talking it through this time, huh?" Laurel asks, looking embarrassed and at the same time afraid. Not of Dinah, but of herself, how she has been reacting to this case, and at how she has been wriggling her way out of talking out her issues with Dinah at every turn. The time for deflections and avoidance is over. For them both.
"Afraid not, babe," Dinah says, then pats Laurel's hand comfortingly. "This case has been eating you up. You're irritable – well more irritable than usual –" that earns her a glare, "and it isn't just because of your career being on the line. By the way, I just want to say, I didn't know you had your sights set on climbing the ladder so high. But if that's what you want, I'm with you. A hundred percent."
"Really?"
Laurel sounds as surprised as she looks when she shouldn't. Dinah has been nothing but supportive of her career. As a woman in a profession even more male-oriented than practicing public law, she is well versed in navigating the unfair hardships of gender inequality in the workplace as well as the complex social webs that spring up in a mixed gender environment. Granted, being a Marine more than prepared her for the culture shock of being an ambitious woman in primarily male dominated profession, but that isn't to say it was always easy. More than a few hateful pricks and handsy sleazeballs had to learn the hard way that she doesn't take shit from anyone, no matter how large and in charge they may be. While Laurel's venture as D.A. has been far less problematic on that front, the trauma she experienced at the whims of abusive men before assuming Earth-1 Laurel's life made Dinah's pre-cop days seem like a picnic. For both that reason and her own experiences in the workplace, she would never stand in the way of Laurel's dreams. And that wasn't taking into consideration the more simple motive for her support, that she loves Laurel and only wants the best for her.
So, Dinah is a tad bit offended that Laurel might have assumed she would throw a hissy fit or something after learning about her ambitions. That said, she abstains from making a scene over it since she can't deny she has only really been supportive of Laurel's current career track. They have yet to discuss at any length about where they want to be professionally five or ten years down the road. If this conversation is any indication, they should do so before long.
There is only one major reason Dinah can think of off the top of her head as to why they haven't broached the matter, namely Laurel's reticence to discuss where their relationship is headed. God knows Laurel has been let down and betrayed and burned by love too many times to allow herself the luxury of dreaming of a future outside of fighting for her survival. So it isn't a big shock that she doesn't seem to be operating with an end goal in sight as far as their relationship is concerned.
Dinah, on the other hand, has stubbornly clung to her idealistic vision of the future, so she knows where she wants it to be heading. But a relationship is a two-way street that she cannot navigate solo. Before long, she needs to figure out where Laurel stands as far as what she ultimately wants out of this relationship. Otherwise what are they doing? Spinning their wheels. That's what.
"Of course," Dinah finally answers aloud, careful to keep any offense from slipping into her tone. "I love you. I want you to be happy, and not just with our home life. It's just as important to me that you're being fulfilled by your job. Do you believe that?"
For a second Laurel stares at her in disbelief that is quickly banished by awe. "Yeah..." Her response is whispered so low that it is barely audible, so when Dinah arches a brow indicating she requires clarification, Laurel obliges. "Yes, I believe you. Thank you. That...hearing you say that means more to me than I can really explain."
Dinah doesn't agree. She thinks Laurel is perfectly capable of explaining it, but is merely too stubborn and prideful to admit she derives pleasure from receiving Dinah's validation. Why Laurel is so reluctant to confess to such when she has no trouble doing so in the bedroom is a minor inconvenience Dinah has yet to resolve. She is making observable progress, though!
"Oh, I think I have pretty good idea," she says, unwilling to press that particular issue at present when there are other things to address. "But that's not important right now. What's important right now is why you're all twisted up about this case. I've not seen you like this in a long time, and I have to admit it scares me."
Laurel sighs in frustration then pinches the bridge of her nose before responding. "I'm sorry about that. I never want to scare you. You know that, right?"
"Of course I do. That's why it's scary. If you're not trying to do it, it means something is really wrong. So what is it?"
Another sigh, this one more plaintive and hesitant. "It's about Susie."
"The Ingrams' daughter that was hiding under her bed while her parents were being slaughtered in the next room?"
Dinah will never forget walking into the apartment and seeing that trembling child sandwiched between two detectives who were trying to take her statement. As Captain, she had responded personally to the murder of two prominent members of Star City's upper crust, a family with links that stretched the breadth of the country all the way into the D.C. establishment. The last thing she expected was to be forced to attempt extracting vital information about the crime from a terrified, traumatized seven year old. She didn't make much headway at all, nor did anyone else who tried, before ordering everyone to leave the girl alone until Child Services arrived. And then Laurel waltzed in and everything changed.
"That's her," Laurel says, visage regaining a semblance of vitality as she talks about little Susan Ingram. "Remember I had to interview her a couple times right after the incident and she, uh...weirdly took a shine to me? And how she wasn't really talking to anybody else, so guess who got to spend bunches of quality time with her?"
Dinah smiles, remembering how Susie would cling to Laurel's leg or hand and would never stray much more than a couple steps from the woman who apparently reminded her a lot of her mother. It was half adorable and half amusing watching Laurel discreetly flail for balance at being the sole recipient of a traumatized child's trust.
"Sure. You acted all put out about it but secretly you fell in love with that little girl just like everybody else did. Me included." And that much was undeniably true. When Laurel informed Susie that Dinah was her girlfriend, it was as if she was suddenly inducted into the club. After that, she was present – as was Laurel – at every last one of Susie's official interviews about her parents' deaths. It was impossible not to love a child who could melt through Laurel Lance's sturdy defenses with such breathtaking ease and speed.
"Yeah...well," Laurel winces subtly, "I may have told her about losing my dad and then given her my word I would make sure the man that took her mom and dad away would never walk the streets again." She pauses then, her eyes misting up as she searches for something from Dinah that she is apparently having trouble finding. "Did I lie to her, Dinah? Am I gonna break that little girl's heart? Am I gonna be responsible for sending her into a death spiral like what happened to me after my dad's killer went free? Am I going to turn that precious, innocent child into me? A broken, deranged killer with no conscience."
Her own heart breaking for Laurel and Susie, Dinah shifts on the sofa, angling in toward Laurel so that their knees are touching. She adds her other hand to where she's holding on to Laurel's, one clasping the underside of Laurel's wrist while the other palms the top of her hand.
"Baby, no. First of all, you aren't broken or deranged, and you most certainly have a conscience. You wouldn't care what happens to Susie otherwise. Secondly, I don't believe for a single second that you will let her down. You're going to win this case and give her and her parents the justice they deserve. I know it."
Doubt and self-recrimination marring her features, Laurel pulls her hands away to run them fretfully through her hair. "How? How can you be so confident when I'm not?"
Absently, Dinah reaches out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Laurel's ear. "'Cause I know you. Sometimes I think better than you know yourself. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel Lance does not make empty promises."
"Maybe you'll change your mind after you read my opening statement," Laurel replies, then groans miserably. "It's really bad..."
"Doubtful. I've always thought you have a unique way with words. Most juries you've addressed seem to have agreed with me." Smiling, Dinah nudges Laurel's shoulder then gestures toward the offending notepad that seems to be the subject of ninety percent of Laurel's ire. "But I know better than to marginalize your concerns, so let's see it. And before you object due to my blatant conflict of interest, I'll be as unbiased as I can. Sound fair?"
With a drawn out sigh, Laurel returns a hesitant nod. "Yeah. Okay. But only because I trust you won't blow smoke up my ass." She then retrieves the notepad and extends it toward Dinah with a slightly unsteady hand.
Reminded of how critical it is to give an honest opinion without being unduly harsh, something she has become adept at living with a woman whose temper frequently has a hair trigger, Dinah respectfully accepts the notepad. "I won't," she says. "I promise." And then, when Laurel settles back into the cushions, legs crossed and arms folded over her chest, she begins to read.
From the first word, it was clear Laurel's stressing was for nothing. The rest of the opening statement does nothing to contradict that assessment. It is, in her opinion, an incredible speech worthy of being represented upon the silver screen.
"Laurel...this is amazing," she croons after finishing the captivating read. Unsurprisingly, Laurel glares at her dubiously. "Seriously! I'm not trying to spare your feelings because I love you. I actually think it's perfect."
Laurel huffs, stubbornly refusing to accept the praise – which is fairly typical, albeit less so now than when they first started dating. "You said it before. You're biased."
"Obviously. But that doesn't mean I can't recognize a winning argument. I've sat through my fair share of trials, and heard a lot of opening statements. And this?" Dinah brandishes the notepad as if it were the smoking gun in her case to prove Laurel is overreacting. "This is so, so good. But..." tossing the notepad back onto the coffee table, she retakes Laurel's hand, "if you're still not happy with it, tell me what you think is wrong. Maybe articulating your concerns and then tossing ideas back and forth will help work out the kinks."
That perks Laurel up. "You sure? I know we haven't had dinner yet..."
"Not a problem," Dinah says confidently. "I'll call in for Thai and have it delivered. We can work til it gets here. Sound good?"
"No. It sounds...wonderful." Silence stretches out between them as Laurel worships Dinah with her eyes as if seeing her for the first time all over again. The heated gaze of those electric green irises elicits a delicious shiver that corkscrews down Dinah's spine. "Damn," Laurel says after completing her languid study, strangely enough voicing Dinah's own thoughts. "I really am the world's luckiest bitch. 'Cause you are the best girlfriend in history." Full lips quirk up at one corner. "If I was as smart as I say I am, I probably ought to listen to Felicity, stop beating around the bush and wife you up."
The trailing comment, out of left field as it is, does not even phase Dinah. Truth be told, she's been fantasizing about taking their relationship to the next level for a while now. There is little else she wants more in the world than to become Mrs. Laurel Lance.
"Amen, babe. From your lips to God's ears," she replies enthusiastically, catching Laurel completely off guard.
"Are you...actually being serious?" Laurel responds, visibly shaken, waves of insecurity pouring off her. "You'd really…? I mean, you wanna…? You would...to me?"
"Laurel. Jesus." Ashamed of herself for leaving any room for doubt, Dinah heaves a self-recriminatory sigh as she scrubs a hand over her face. "I guess I have to work on my communication skills as much as you do, because of course I do." Deciding that there is no time like the present to get started on that noble goal, she gently squeezes Laurel's hand, willing her to understand just how much she really does want to get married. "I've been thinking about it for so long I already have a million ideas about bridesmaid dresses and venues and catering options." When Laurel's eyes widen comically, Dinah realizes how that might sound like an actual proposal. Chuckling, she shakes her head lightly, "Don't freak out, babe. I'm not asking right now. I'm afraid with me being a traditional girl I am in the romance department, that particular ball is in your court. That being said, at least now you know what my answer will be."
Another briefer silence descends, during which Laurel stares at Dinah in utter amazement and worries at her bottom lip. "By chance, is it the same answer you'd give if I asked you for a kiss?" she asks after a few seconds of waging an internal battle with a part of herself Dinah can already guess is making a fuss out of this.
No doubt it will not be the last time Laurel's dark side has cause or opportunity to undermine the direction their relationship will hopefully be taking – and very soon if Dinah has any say in the matter.
Dinah's answering smile is as much to tease as it is an invitation. "I don't know, Miss Lance. Why don't you woman up and find out."
"Oooo. A challenge. I likey. Alright. So..." Without prompting, Laurel fluidly slides off the couch and onto her knees. Once situated between Dinah's knees, she offers her hands palm up. And when Dinah slides her hands into Laurel's, those mesmerizing green eyes begin to dance. "Dinah Miriam Drake," Laurel says, all formal and serious yet with the stirrings of an indescribable passion and devotion underscored by a hint of playful affection. "Will you do me the extraordinary privilege of allowing me to kiss you?"
Tears well up in Dinah's eyes at the subtext to a query that was clearly a test run for a much more important one to come. Barely able to contain her urge to jump Laurel's bones on the spot and with her heart soaring through clouds of pure saccharine joy, she smiles. This is the easiest question she has ever been asked. Or at least it will be until she gets asked that other one. Doesn't matter, though. To both, her answer is the same.
"Yes."
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Text
girl i wanna take you to a gay bar
Here’s the GayBar!James AU nobody asked for but I decided the world needed!!!
Thank you to @alrightginger @youreyesinstarsabove and @raissassampaio for the betaing/encouragement and to the rest of my castle crew, i love y’all!
Word Count: ~5000
Read it on FF or AO3
As Lily tipped back another tiny shot glass of tequila she wished it would just get a little larger. Well, it could. She knew that. She knew she could just order an actual glass of tequila, but then she'd be paying for a larger cup just filled with ice so it was better this way. Really, it was.
"What did you say his name was again?" She yelled at the sandy-haired man who had just slid his card to the bartender, indicating he wanted to close the tab with a simple shake of his head.
"Sirius... Hey! Don't laugh!" He scolded the redhead for doing just that. "He's cute! And his parents met at some astrology conference. Or maybe at the museum? I don't remember. He was fucking fit, okay?" Remus looked at her with a slight pout that only made her laugh harder.
"Aw c'mon Re, you can't really think that just because some bloke is fit as hell that I'm not going to laugh at his obnoxious name. Seriously? No pun intended." She grinned at her own joke as Remus continued to glare at her.
"No, I suppose he shouldn't." A tall man with stark black hair that fell down a little past his shoulders in loose waves commented. "But then again, the bloke's middle name is Orion and his last name is Black so apparently his parents just had it out for him from day one." The wry smile on his face matched that of his friend's. Normally Lily's cheeks would've been burning a furious shade of red to match her hair, but she knew the alcohol had already given her a pink flush that would hide her shame.
"Sirius Orion Black. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Lily Jane Evans, at your service." She did a mock curtsy before holding her hand out for him to shake. He did so dutifully before dropping her hand and instantly moving that arm around Remus' shoulders. After sizing him up for a moment, Lily turned to Sirius' friend. "And you, oh silent one?"
He looked startled before his own cheeks went pink and she delighted in the fact that she was able to catch him off guard. It was a shame that he wouldn't be into her, because she could have easily been into him.
"James. James Potter. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." The male lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the skin on the back of her hand. She giggled before doing a curtsy.
"Well at least one of you knows how to greet a proper lady." She huffed, arching an eyebrow as she turned to Sirius who was half-preoccupied with ordering them a round of drinks.
"Nobody would mistake you for a proper lady, love." She elbowed Remus at his comment before clapping her hands together as a glass of tequila appeared in front of her suddenly thanks to Sirius. The redhead took a smooth sip before a loud bass sounded, indicating a song change. "Well, maybe you do know how to treat a lady." She commented to Sirius as it dawned on her what song was about to play.
"Absolutely not. It's not happening." Remus declared before she could even think to ask. The hand not holding her drink instantly clung to his forearm, as if trying to tug him out onto the dance floor with her.
"Please, please, please, Re. You know how much I loved this song in high school. It was basically my go to song. You essentially have to dance with me, as my very best friend." She blinked her eyes rapidly before he pulled his arm free from her clutches with a determined shake of his head.
"I'll dance with you." The voice from behind her came out so quietly she was assuming she had made it up before she saw James' eyes. He seemed sincere and she bit her lip before grabbing his hand, which was basically the same as agreeing. The two made their way out to the dance floor before she finally dropped his hand and moved her hips as she felt out the rhythm.
"I really do love this song." She yelled over the music, only to receive a confused stare in return. Lily leaned in closer, realizing she had to go on the tips of her toes to speak into his ear. All she could think of was how damn tall he was. She placed her free hand on his shoulder for balance before she repeated the words at the same volume. He tipped his head back and laughed loudly, and she couldn't help but really appreciate the sound of it.
"I believe you." He reassured her, his lips against her ear as they danced. Their bodies were a bit closer together now and she giggled when he dipped her, both of their drinks sloshing over the rims of their glasses.
"Wait, wait!" She exclaimed, finishing off of her drink before she turned and looked for an open counter space along the wall to set it down. She waited for him to do the same before they headed back to the dance floor in the middle of a new song, one she faintly recognized but was struggling to sing along to.
"How did you meet Sirius?" She asked him, arching an eyebrow as he did a move with his arms that made him look altogether silly but endearing. She grinned as he lifted his hands to hold hers and then she was being pulled in closer.
"Sirius is my brother! We met when we were young. Best friends forever and all that shit!" He told her, his eyes locked onto hers. Lily licked her lips before nodding, a small smile on her lips. His expression showed just how much he adored Sirius, and for a moment she worried for Remus about whether James and Sirius were just brothers. The music had a more sultry beat at this point and she wasn't sure when it happened but somehow she was dancing against James, though he was struggling to find the beat of the song.
"Do you want to get some fresh air with me?" She asked him, needing to step outside but not wanting to go alone, and realizing that although he offered to dance, it didn't seem to be his thing.
"Yeah, sure." James held onto her hand still and led the way, weaving through the throngs of people as they tried to make their way to the entrance. Lily was simultaneously trying to spot Remus or Sirius to let them know where they were going but it was a lost cause, as she couldn't see over anyone's heads. Remus was taller than most of the people there, but it made no difference. It only took a moment or two to get through the crowd and she assumed that was because James' height gave him some type of authority.
Lily took in a deep breath of the city air before letting out a soft sigh. "Penny for your thoughts, love?" Her head whipped up at him and she let out another soft sigh, this one a little more dramatic.
"There aren't many at the moment." She admitted, her laughter bubbling up instantaneously. "Just keep thinking about how to con you or Sirius into buying me another glass of tequila." The redhead's smirk was evident as James' eyebrows raised up in surprise.
"I think that could be arranged, though you may owe me another dance as payment." He swayed his hips in what she assumed was supposed to be a suggestive manner, but it only caused her to cackle loudly before shaking her head.
"No, no, please God no!" Lily exclaimed as she put her hands on his hips to stop him from moving them. "It's not worth it! It's not!" She continued giggling to the point that she couldn't exactly remember why she was giggling, just that she found it hysterical and then suddenly she realized that she was holding onto this man who only knew her for the past forty-five minutes and that she should probably remove her hands from his body. It took a few moments longer before her hands followed through with her brain's orders, and she knew at that moment her cheeks were burning red.
"We should get together sometime this week. I have a feeling we're going to see a lot more of each other if those two continue to hit it off." Lily was surprised by James' suggestion, but she liked the idea of getting to know more people in the city, and the thought of Sirius and Remus splitting up anytime soon didn't seem like an option. She knew from Remus' many midnight ramblings that he was more than committed to seeing this thing with Sirius through, and she was going to get closer to James to prove that she supported his decision. "Sounds great, just put your number in my phone. Otherwise I'd be waiting three days for you to call." Lily let out a soft laugh as she unlocked her phone with her fingerprint and then slid it his way.
"Cute cat photo." He indicated as he held up her phone to reveal the background she had set just days prior. Lily felt her cheeks tinged pink as he slid open her contacts app and began to create a new one to add his number to. "And I wouldn't have waited three days to call you. No guy is dumb enough to wait three days to call such a pretty girl." If her cheeks were pink, they were a deep red now, and she only wished James' compliment could mean what she wanted.
"That's very sweet of you to say. Why don't we head back inside and see if they're ready to head back. I'm all danced out." She grinned as he placed a hand on her elbow to lead her inside once he returned her phone to her.
"James!" Lily exclaimed as the popcorn exploded all over the floor.
"I am so sorry!" He apologized, but the tone of his voice said he was anything but. "That's what you get for not letting me just have some when I asked, though. I think if anything, the mess is your fault!"
"James Potter, you literally ripped the bag from my hands! I just pulled it from the microwave and said I was going to get a bowl!" She smacked his chest, pouting as she looked at the mess on her floor.
"Maybe we should get married. Mrs. Lily Pout-er has a nice ring to it!" He laughed loudly at his own joke before checking the closet for a broom. "Lily, how do you expect to clean anything with this?" He raised an eyebrow before laughing.
"Shut up, you git! It came with the flat. I needed something and I have yet to need a new broom, okay." She knew that it was a bit worn out. The bristles were all frayed at the ends and the handle was starting to splinter. It looked like a broom that the Wicked Witch of the West would hold in her grip. Instead, it resided in the spidery hall closet of Lily's East London flat, barely managing its job of sweeping up linoleum flooring; that didn't mean she wouldn't defend its effectiveness to James.
"It does the job. And until it does not do the job, I will not force it into retirement. What are you- James!" She squealed as he lifted her over his shoulder, her cheek pressed against the middle of his back. James carried her into the living room, tickling her sides aimlessly while she wiggled around in his grasp. "James if you drop me, so help me God I will never let you back into my home again!" She huffed as he tossed her onto the couch cushions, creating a yelp to come from her mouth. It also caused her hands to grab onto the nearest item which just happened to be his shirt, dragging him down on top of her.
Noting their positions, James shifted slightly, though Lily's tight grip made it impossible to fully lift himself off of her.
"Hi." She murmured, smiling brightly up at him. She realized that she was still holding onto his shirt, letting go quickly so she could lift her hands to adjust his crooked glasses. He smiled softly at the gesture, their eyes locking. "You still have to clean my kitchen, y'know." Lily wasn't sure when her voice had gotten so breathless, but she figured it had to be from all of the laughter.
"Yeah, I know." James made no move to get off of her and she couldn't help but place her hands back on his chest, not sure what else to do with them as her arms were trapped in a bent position.
"James?"
"Yeah?"
"Nevermind." She froze, not sure of what she was going to say.
This felt all too much for her and she wondered for the first time if it was odd to have a crush on your new best friend. She and James had grown incredibly close since meeting just a few weeks ago, and she wished she could see a clear line in their relationship. Instead, everything he did she wanted to read as more, and it was causing her to blur the lines. If she wasn't careful, she would fall for him and then she would just end up pining for a man who had no interest in her, and who would only end up breaking her heart.
"Alright, you weirdo." James flicked her nose playfully with his right hand before pushing up to resume his cleaning. Lily sat up on her couch and watched him through the doorway, wondering just how fucked she really was.
"Lily! Lily Evans!" Remus' voice rang through her door as she rubbed her forehead, trying to take in her surroundings. She shuffled over to the door and swung it open, turning to walk back into her kitchen to make a cup of tea without another word. Remus had been over enough times that he could let himself in and get comfortable. She put on enough water for at least two mugs worth before leaning onto her breakfast bar.
"What the hell happened last night?" She knew exactly what he was referring to, but maybe playing dumb would get her into less trouble. The look on his face showed that her confused expression wasn't working on him, and she could only let out a sigh in response.
"That girl was trying to hit on James, I just warned her that he was a lost cause." Lily explained, shrugged her shoulders as she turned so she could grab two mugs from the cupboard.
"Lily, what in the world makes you think James is such a lost cause? It's not like you're going to suddenly be changing his relationship status! You've said so at least three times since I tried pointing out how fit he was." Lily wasn't sure why Remus kept trying to make that point, but she had only been trying to save this girl the heartbreak that nobody had spared her.
"Well, I could! But James isn't exactly my type, in case you hadn't noticed, Re." She retorted, letting out a snort just as the water finished heating, to which she poured the two mugs over the tea bags and offered him one.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Well he's not exactly straight, Remus!" She let out an exasperated huff, now getting angry that her best friend was mocking her.
"What are you talking about? He's not… Lily, he has never mentioned finding a man attractive. And Sirius hasn't ever said anything about it. So I highly doubt that he is."
"We met at a gay club. And he literally dressed the part. I don't want to stereotype but…. My gaydar was dinging like crazy. And being half gay, I think I can figure that out."
"Stop saying you're half gay, Lily! You're bi. Being half-gay isn't a thing! You're such a weirdo." At this point, Remus was smiling fondly at his best friend. "I'm sure James isn't gay, and as a gay man I think I could tell. But I'll try to investigate for you." Lily smiled gratefully at Remus, pressing a kiss to his forehead before grabbing her mug again. "And in themeantime you can listen to me bitch about how Sirius got us lost again last night on our way to dinner."
"Wait, so you're telling me that Lily thinks that James is gay?" Sirius asked his boyfriend, a smirk growing on his face as Remus nodded.
"And James thinks Lily isn't into him and his hopeless, pining, pathetic, lovestruck self?" Sirius confirmed, waiting for Remus to nod his head again, though this time it was accompanied with an eyeroll.
"And Lily has a huge crush on a man who she thinks is as gay as the day is long?"
"Yes, Sirius. Yes, our friends are practically in love with one another and are too thick to realize that they fancy one another. Yes, now wipe that dumb grin off of your face. We have to tell them." Remus smacked his boyfriend's bare chest, though his head soon followed, allowing them to just lay in a silent embrace for a few moments.
"Oh, we are absolutely not telling them a thing. I'm going to enjoy this." Without even glancing up at him, Remus could see the gears turning in Sirius' mind.
Sirius' version of enjoying "this" apparently included making not-so-subtle comments the minute Lily would step out of a room, making James' cheeks go pink at every opportunity made available to him. It got to the point Remus had to withhold sex for six days before he gave in and promised to stop bugging his best friend so much. "But it's easy." He had whined, to which Remus rolled his eyes and smacked him on the shoulder.
"That's exactly why you shouldn't be mocking him. It's no fun to mock if it isn't hard."
James came back into the room and gave them an inquisitive stare before deciding to let the issue go and just fall back onto the couch. Lily sat beside him, their thighs brushing until he covered her knee with his large palm, letting out a small smile as she turned her face to meet his gaze.
"James and I were just saying we should have a proper night out this weekend. It's been so long since we've actually had one." Lily suggested, patting his arm.
The couple standing opposite them quickly agreed, sharing a thought almost instantly that the drama would really finally come to a head this Friday.
Lily knew she had spent too much effort on her outfit for someone who had no intentions of trying to actually impress anyone, but she wanted to look good. She just kept telling herself that she didn't need to look good for a man, she could do it just for herself.
A short Uber ride later brought her to the club that Lily had chosen upon, hoping the vibe would be good for the night. She spotted James first, a whole head above the people around him, other than Remus. She quickly pranced over to the group before James' arm wrapped around her shoulder to pull her in for a hug. It was almost as an afterthought that she hugged Sirius and then Remus, just before James slid a drink over to her.
A familiar song came on and instead of turning to Remus, she glanced up at James and he just laughed. "This is the song we danced to the very first time we met, you know!" He teased, already holding out a hand for her to take. "C'mon, love. Let's go boogie." She giggled loudly, taking a large gulp of her drink to avoid spilling it before he spun her around twice, holding the tips of her fingers gingerly as he did so.
They moved a little closer as the songs meshed together, partly due to being nudged together by the crowd on the floor, partly due to their magnetic pull.
"I'm really glad we met all those months ago." James leaned down to say this earnestly in her ear and she couldn't help but smile as he pulled back, their eyes locked on one another.
"I'm really glad too, James." As her drink was depleted and she felt parched, Lily indicated she was going to head to the bar for another drink. James nodded his approval, keeping an eye on her from afar before he went back to stand with Sirius and Remus near the wall. She waved before turning so she could focus her attention on getting another drink, wiggling her way between a woman in a skirt that she wouldn't have ever dared to wear out but wished she could, and a man whose shoulders were so broad she was pretty sure he could carry her on them. She hadn't realized she was staring until his eyes met hers, lifting an eyebrow before he smirked.
"Sorry! You're just really fit!" She realized what she had said and started giggling, facing the bar once more.
"No need to apologize, love. You're pretty fit yourself." He winked down at her before introducing himself as Connor and offered to pay for her drink. Normally Lily would assure him that she could buy it herself and ignore him, but something about this man intrigued her and she was sick of pining after someone she could never actually have. As he signed his credit card receipt (with a generous tip she noted, instantly adding to her attraction), he guided her over to the side of the bar where she still felt safe enough, but much more private. "Would you like to dance?" He asked, lifting his hand to his hair much like someone else she knows, causing her to compare James and Connor for a moment. Connor's shirt fit much tighter than James' ever did, though she assumed he wore it that way on purpose.
"I'd love to." She finally responded, noting that she genuinely meant it. Connor was fit and he moved well. His free hand ended up holding her waist, pulling her into him and she accepted it.
The night wore on with lots of laughs and an exchange of numbers before Lily finally went back to her friends, ready to go home. She noticed that James looked frustrated but Sirius and Remus just looked elated. She wasn't entirely sure what happened while she was gone, but she assumed that they had taken the piss a few too many times tonight.
"C'mon, I'm sleepy." She smiled as Sirius offered to give her a piggyback ride once they had made it out of the club, carrying her down the block to his and James' flat.
The next morning was not an easy one for Lily. She was wiped out and the sun was too bright coming through the windows of the guest room. She was unable to fall back asleep and instead went out into the kitchen. Since Sirius and Remus started dating, she had been over enough times to know just where the mugs were kept to get her morning started with a cup of tea.
Looking through the doorway, she could see Sirius walking towards the kitchen with a sleepy smile on his face. "Morning red." He mumbled, and for a moment she pictured him with her best friend, seeing him in such a vulnerable state. "Morning, Black." She teased, adding water to the kettle so there would be enough for both of them.
"You sure had a fun night, hm? Left our little Jamesie alone, but that's alright. He just watched on out of pure pathetic despair." Sirius told her as he rifled through the fridge, though she wasn't sure what he planned to grab.
"Despair? Oh god, I left him all alone. He had to third wheel all night. No wonder he looked so miserable by the time we left."
"Sure, that's why." He laughed before leaving the kitchen without a cup of tea or anything from the fridge and she was left to wonder exactly what that meant.
Lily had called James to come over a few days after the bar incident, feeling disappointed that Connor had never even texted her. She was laying on her couch when he knocked on the door, opening it a moment later with a wide grin on his face. "I bought coconut macaroons! You said it was a 911 emergency with a bunch of crying emojis so I figured these would suffice."
"You're my hero." She patted the couch, lifting her head so that he could slide onto the cushion, laying it back down on his thigh. "You are the Will to my Grace." Lily grinned as she opened the box, her mouth salivating at just the sight of the desserts.
"I don't know what that means, but you're welcome. So, do you want to tell me what happened exactly?" He asked, reaching for a macaroon of his own.
"Connor never called." She sighed dramatically, closing her eyes as she nibbled on her treat. "And it's been like four days. I know we met at the club but I still thought he'd at least call for one date. I thought he found me attractive but I guess not." She shrugged before peaking up at him. "What?"
"Oh for fuck's sake. That's why you called me over here?" James asked, and he sounded almost angry with her. "Lily, that's absolute bullshit. You're fucking beautiful and if you're upset over one prick not calling you that you met at a club, then you're more dramatic than I thought!" He huffed before it must have set in what he said, because his eyes suddenly went a little wider than usual behind his glasses.
"James, that's sweet that you think that but it's not like your opinion actually… I mean, you're not exactly an impartial judge of beauty. It's not like you're actually interested in… well… you know." Lily stumbled over her words, not sure how she was supposed to phrase it.
"What in bloody hell are you saying, woman!"
"It's not like you're attracted to me, James! I know I'm not your type!" She huffed out, sitting up now so that she was staring at him.
"Lily, are you joking? Of course, I'm attracted to you! I think you're fit as hell! I've thought so since the moment we met. I've fucking fancied you for months!"
"Wait. What?"
The words he had just spoken were swirling around her brain.
"But all of those... and the... and you... but I..." she trailed off, her eyes still blown comically wide. Lily just watched James as his shoulders fell slightly. She wanted to say something but she didn't know what.
"James. Are you saying that you've been... that you've fancied me since we met?!" It didn't seem impossible, because now that he was saying it, she felt the pieces falling into place. It was as if every moment that they had shared were suddenly being seen through a new lens. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Are you bloody joking? Lily, I've been doing all but scream it from the rooftops!" His hand was ruffling his hair and he seemed even more frustrated now. If it weren't so serious, she'd find it incredibly endearing.
"But I didn't think you were... Bloody hell James I thought you were gay!" She exclaimed, and it suddenly hit him why she was never fully returning his advances.
"LILY, what the FUCK!" He didn't look angry, so that was a plus. Not-angry she could work with. Not-angry meant that he wasn't going to hold this against her. Not-angry meant they could work this out.
"We met at a gay bar, James. You and Sirius were the prettiest men in that club! You can't really expect me to not have made that assumption, and then we never... I just never thought to ask. I just assumed. And Remus said you weren't but that he'd talk to Sirius but then he never said anything so I just thought he didn't know how to tell me, and then we went out all those times and you never..." Her shoulders had slumped and she glanced away for just a moment before returning her gaze to his. When their eyes met, she noticed how his pupils appeared so much darker and for the first time she was able to see everything that much clearer.
"James, I-" she was cut off from apologizing before she knew what was happening. Suddenly Lily felt couch cushions beneath her body and his on top of hers. She felt trapped but safe as his lips covered hers in a passionate kiss. Lily froze for a moment before she was able to wrap her head around what happened. James was kissing her, and that revelation brought her back to reality and she was able to focus on the matter at hand. Without a warning, James right hand slid under her shirt to grip her waist while his left did a hell of a job supporting his weight above her. She let her own hands hold onto his biceps just as his tongue pressed against her bottom lip, and she momentarily forgot who she was with. This was just like any other kiss. No, it was better. Lily pushed him away slightly before she could get any more carried away, though her breathlessness might have given her away a bit.
"James, I fancy you too." She whispered, needing him to hear the words. "For fuck's sake, I've had this massive crush on you since we started hanging out, and I thought it was pointless. Why do you think I wasted my time with that prat the other night. I didn't want to spend more time with you, wishing it would mean something else."
James grinned at her honesty, leaning down to kiss her gently, though this one was much shorter. "Lily, you daft girl. I don't know how else I could have told you."
"I think that just about did the trick." Lily returned his grin before pushing him off of her so that she could sit up, frowning at the box of macaroons that had fallen over, though a few remained in the box.
It wasn't until James was tossing the few damaged macaroons away in her kitchen that she turned to him with a mug of tea tucked between her hands, a devilish grin on her face.
"What is it, love?" He asked, pushing his left hand through his hair while reaching out to her with his right.
"Just thinking, if you aren't gay… How come I got so many gay vibes from you the first night we met?" She asked, knowing that she probably shouldn't judge based off of stereotypes.
"Oh, that night? I lost a bet. Sirius dressed me." She laughed loudly at this response, a small smile on her lips. "Makes sense." The redhead retorted.
"I really made your gaydar go off?" James asked her, letting his chin rest on the top of her head, her mug of tea squished between their chests.
"What can I say, I guess it only works half the time."
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elleeverhart · 6 years
Text
Eligible - Ch30
Happy Sunday! I've been weeding my front garden all morning and coming back inside to give this a final edit was the best part of my morning I stg. I mean, now I have to go back outside and finish up and I just alksjfasdfj SOMEONE COME SAVE ME I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS BEING AN ADULT IS STUPID
Anyway -- enjoy x
Read on FF or AO3
Despite what she'd said in the car the night before, Lily wasn't at all ready to watch James at the ceremony the next night.
Kissing Liza on that goddamn glacier seemed to have uncorked the softer, more affectionate side of him, and he was a handsy bastard the entire night.
Marlene, who knew by now that James had kissed Liza on their date the day before, kept looking at Lily with these sympathetic looks, and while a part of Lily was appreciative of the support, she mostly just wanted to strangle Marlene to stop her looking at her like that.
It was hard enough to get through all the talking and laughing and flirting without thinking that Marlene was just sitting there pitying her.
It helped to remember that Marlene was also fairly cross with her for insisting that it be that way.
All the contestants were on edge that night, too, and for good reason. James was eliminating three women at the ceremony that night, and, other than Liza, no one really seemed that confident in their place. Sian and Claire, usually content to hang back and let other women absorb James' attention, were more aggressive in their pursuit of him for the first time since they'd started filming.
And though James' rule about not snogging when there were other contestants around managed to stay intact, he did seem to get awfully close a few times.
In the end, Jade, Sian, and Saoirse were sent home — the six remaining women tried their best to celebrate quietly as James walked the eliminated contestants out, and Lily watched with the strangest sensation in her gut as he said goodbye to them in turn and helped them into the cars waiting in the drive.
Lily knew it was a bit odd, but she couldn't help the rush of affection she felt towards him as she watched him take his time instead of just rushing the contestants out of there. He gave each of them a warm hug, said they really were wonderful people, that this decision of his wasn't a judgment on them. Said that he hoped they found happiness because they really, truly deserved it.
He really was too good for a show like this, he was.
James lingered on the pavement as the cars drove away, hands in his pockets as he shifted his weight restlessly between his feet. He was there for a minute, maybe two, after the cars had gone before he pulled in a breathe, straightened up, and walked back into the house.
He made some bright, smiley speech about how excited he was for Dublin next week when he got back into the lounge, and Lily sort of half-listened until the cameras cut. She darted forward the moment the cameras shut off, started moving through the crowd to try and get to James because she needed to talk to him about his schedule for the next morning, but by the time she got to the centre of the room, James had made his way out past the cameras.
Lily huffed, and it was stupid, what she did then, shouting his name out like an idiot in a room full of people. It was stupid, but at least she had a legitimate excuse if anyone asked.
And people probably weren't paying her much mind anyway.
He turned just as he reached the corridor and his eyes met hers. Everyone else, the contestants, the crew, Marlene, the other producers, everyone else fell away because all she could think about was the way that James was looking at her just then. How the happy, grinning man that had been in the centre of that room a few minutes before had been replaced by this one, this James who looked tired and defeated and sad.
And she couldn't — it didn't make sense because he'd seemed so happy with the contestants all night. He'd laughed and smiled and Lily had watched him, more than once, put his hand on the small of someone's back or their elbow or whatever and he'd seemed — he'd seemed so genuine and it didn't make sense that he was standing there now looking at her like this.
James didn't wait for her to figure it out — he looked at her a moment longer before he dropped his gaze, turned on his heel, and headed off to bed without saying goodnight.
Lily slept fitfully that night.
It took her an age to fall asleep and then she kept having the most bizarre dreams and waking herself up and then it took her forever to fall asleep again… she finally gave up around seven that morning and pushed herself up out of bed. She could see the sun shining brightly underneath the blackout curtains and, even though it was basically the last thing she wanted to do, she had a lot of nervous energy to work off before she was travelling alone with James again today.
She grabbed her mobile off her bedside table and texted Marlene —
Going for a run — come with?
She dug her sports bra and a pair of leggings from the bottom of her bag and tied her hair up into a sloppy ponytail while she waited for Marlene's reply. Her mobile buzzed twice as she was tying up her trainers.
Marlene McKinnon: who are you and what have you done with Lily?
Marlene McKinnon: I'll meet you in the lobby in five x
They didn't talk much on their run that morning. Marlene took one look at Lily's face when she met her in the lobby — the dark, almost indigo circles under her eyes, the lines on her forehead — and knew that this run wasn't going to be some light, fun thing that Lily jokingly complained about.
It was about exorcising her demons and building up her strength for the day ahead.
Even though they didn't say anything to one another, it was nice having Marlene there with her while she ran. It was nice not being alone. She let herself get lost in the rhythm of their feet against the pavement and the pain in her bad knee and the sharp burning in her throat because she never remembered to breathe in through her nose until it was too late and her throat was torn to bits by the air and even though none of those things were particularly fun to think about, they were easier to think about than the things swirling in the back of her mind that kept telling her that she was an idiot.
Lily wasn't sure how far they ran — after awhile, the red-roofed houses all started to look the same — but by the time they got back to the hotel almost an hour later, she was dripping with sweat despite the chill outside and her quads kept twitching every few feet as she walked to the lifts and she was pretty sure that they were going to give out and she was going to fall over.
Marlene laughed at her when she braced herself against the handrail in the lift, and Lily told her to fuck off.
She wiped the sweat that was coating her forehead and smeared it onto the front of her leggings. 'We all can't be marathon running superstars, Marlene.'
She took her time getting ready that morning — she didn't have that long before she had to go leave to pick up James, but she had a few hours and so she took them.
She shaved her legs. She stood under the burning hot water and sang an S Club song she only remembered half the words to. She let her conditioner sit in her hair according to the package directions and her hair was the softest it had been in weeks.
By the time she finished getting ready and packed up all her things, though, she still wasn't quite ready to leave her hotel room. She wasn't ready to walk out into the deceptively bright sunshine, the first really sunny day they'd had since they'd arrived, wasn't ready to sit, alone, in a car with James as they drove to the airport. Wasn't ready to fly, alone, with him to Dublin.
She wasn't ready to do any of it, but she didn't exactly have a choice.
She'd planned to do what she did in Barcelona when they got to James' house — just stick her head through the door and shout for James — but when the car pulled up into the drive, James was already sitting out on the front step, his bag between his knees.
He got into the car without saying anything to her. He dropped his bag between his feet, turned, and looked out the window.
And so began their travel day.
They still hadn't said much of anything to one another by the time they arrived in Dublin a few hours later.
They arrived at their hotel, a trendy, Adam-style building on Harcourt Street near St Stephen's Green, in the early evening. It was still hours from twilight, but the sun had already started to dip down a bit over the horizon, a welcome change from the midnight sun they'd lived through the week before.
The studio had rented out the top two floors of the hotel and the rooftop bar for the week — one of Lily's better suggestions — so she and James were, once again, staying in the same place.
Where that had meant a bit of trouble in Scotland, Lily didn't think that it really made much of a difference here in Dublin.
There was no risk of them shagging or something equally ridiculous when they weren't even speaking.
They gathered their things from the car and started up the front steps in silence. The lobby was buzzing when they walked in — talk and laughter floated into the reception area from the adjacent bar and a few people milled around the seating area out front, drinks in hand. The whole space had something of a lounge feel — the lights were low, the blue neon sign over the reception desk gave the space a cool glow, and the furniture, with its dark, rich woods and leather upholstery, was more reminiscent of some posh nightclub than a hotel lobby.
The receptionist popped out from behind one of the Mac computers at the front desk and smiled at them as Lily and James walked in.
'Welcome to the Dean. How can I help you?'
Lily checked impulsively over her shoulder — James had ambled off and was staring into the bar through the modern wooden shelf the hotel had set up to divide the space. Lily smiled at the receptionist.
'I should have two bookings under Evans?'
The receptionist nodded and started pulling up their reservations.
'Oooookay,' he looked up from his screen and grinned. 'I've got the Penthouse here,' he set a small envelope down on Lily's left, 'and room 414.' He set another envelope down on Lily's right.
Lily beamed at him. 'Thank you so much,' she checked his name tag, 'Thomas.'
He nodded and returned her smile. 'Anything you need, Ms Evans, I'm happy to help.'
She turned away to give James his key and found him frowning at his shoes in the far corner. She sighed, straightened her shoulders — this was fine, she was fine — and walked over, key in hand.
'Here.' James looked at her for a moment before he realised she was holding his key. He took it, stuffed it into his pocket, and muttered his thanks.
Lily barely heard it over the clink of glasses and the increasingly loud conversation in the bar.
'You're in the penthouse,' Lily said. 'Fourth floor. I'm in 414, which is just down the hall should you —'
James grabbed his case from the floor and stalked off before Lily could even finish her sentence.
The moment he rounded the corner towards, Lily assumed, the lifts, she sank down into one of the leather chairs beside the wall divider and dropped her head into her hands.
This was intolerable. It was absolutely fucking intolerable.
Maybe he'd thaw if she gave him time, but they'd been together for hours today and he hadn't said more to her than the necessary pleasantries (and he probably only said those because he knew that, somehow, his mother would know if he didn't). She was alright with him keeping his distance — she was keeping her distance — but this? This wasn't that.
He'd completely shut her out. He'd completely shut her out and she couldn't take it.
And she didn't have a choice, really — she knew that. She'd made this fucking bed and now she had no choice but to lie in it, but fucking hell, she hadn't expected it to be so uncomfortable.
She thought he'd be cross, but that he'd get over it soon enough. If the last few days were anything to go on, though, Lily didn't think he'd be getting over it any time soon.
Though, really — maybe it was better like this.
She didn't want him to hate her — the thought alone made her sick, and then when she started thinking about the fact that it was a very real possibility just now —
She didn't want him to hate her, but maybe it was easier if he did.
Any time they tried to just be friendly to one another they got sucked back into this fucking emotional vortex and whipped around until they were battered within an inch of their goddamn lives.
She didn't like it, but she didn't have to like it.
It was better like this.
It was better if he hated her because it really wasn't fair to him when he didn't. When he kept looking at her like she might change her mind, when he watched the way she moved with that look in his eye that made her want to press him up against things…. It wasn't fair for him to want her — and for her to want him to want her — because she couldn't do anything in the way of acting on it.
And anyway, he'd been looking mighty comfortable with the contestants last night.
So maybe he didn't really care that much anymore.
Or maybe he was working himself into a place where that was true.
Either way —
She took a deep breath, pressed the heels of her hands firmly into her forehead, and then she sat up.
She was professional. She was going to get through this week.
She took another deep breath before she grabbed her case, stood, and began making her way through the lobby. She cast one final look at the neon sign over reception as she went and chuckled under her breath.
The electric blue words — I fell in love here — seemed like a cruel (and maybe a little hilarious) joke.
That first night really should have seemed like something of an omen for how the week would go.
This week was tougher than she'd remembered it being last year — it was the last week before hometowns, the week when everything got that much more serious, the week when the women were just... more. They were more open, more vulnerable, more physical. They were committed. They were ready to get the show over with, to give their relationship with James a real shot and to have him to themselves.
Last year, she'd noticed the shift in the way that the women behaved (largely because it was easier to get them to do ridiculous and embarrassing things in front of the camera), but this year?
This year she felt it in her gut.
It was in the way that James' eyes lingered over Liza when he talked to her, the way he brushed his fingers casually against Summer's elbow, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at something Claire said.
She should be used to it, to the acid that simmered in the pit of her stomach whenever she watched him with the contestants. She should be used to it, especially lately, because these days, James was nothing but charming whenever he was around the contestants.
She should be used to it, but when Summer leant over and kissed him on their date in the park on Friday and James didn't pull away?
She should be used to it, but she absolutely fucking was not.
James had another one on one date set for Saturday night, and Lily spent the entire day trying to get herself together.
He hadn't shown too much interest in Sarah to date — he'd been kind to her, but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing like Liza or Summer — but these days? Now that he'd turned on the charm?
Lily had no idea what to expect any more and she spent the entire day tying herself up in knots.
The contestants were staying in a hotel on the other side of the park, so it was only a few minutes before their car was pulling up out front and James was stepping out of the icy silence in the back seat onto the street to meet Sarah.
Benjy shot Lily a look when James was out of earshot and mouthed this is getting ridiculous.
Lily pretended she didn't see.
She was too busy being nervous to deal with Benjy's crap at the moment.
James and Sarah were laughing about something Sarah was saying when they climbed into the car.
'Sorry, Sarah — sorry,' Lily spluttered until Sarah finally looked up at her, a mildly annoyed expression on her face.
'Yes?'
'If you could start that story again,' Lily said, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. 'We want to make sure the whole shot is consistent and we missed half the story outside the car.'
'The camera guy out front of our hotel got the first half,' Sarah said.
Lily smiled blandly back. 'Regardless. If you could.'
She looked at Lily for a moment before she turned to James and launched back into her (remarkably boring) story about some "hilarious" mishap she'd had with a client before she'd left to come on the show.
It didn't seem like the sort of story you really wanted to be telling on national television, but it was Sarah's job on the line, not Lily's.
The StorySlam place was only a short distance away from the hotel (it was close enough that, if they weren't worried about filming, they could have walked), so it was only a few minutes before the car was pulling up outside the pub.
Lily waited for Sarah and James to climb out before she waved goodbye to Benjy and followed them out onto the pavement.
They'd rented the entire place out for the night and hired a bunch of extras to fill the place, so it looked packed when James and Sarah slid through the crowd towards their table at the front. A waiter brought over a pair of pints, and James took a long drink before he smiled at Sarah and they settled in for the night.
The premise of the night's date hadn't really made sense to Lily when they'd booked it and, honestly, it still didn't make sense to her now that she was living it. They'd had one of the writers back in the main studio office write up a few stories for James and some of the extras to read and Sarah had been left to write something up on her own.
She didn't really understand it, the point of the date, but ultimately she didn't really need to understand it. She just needed to sit through it and then make sure there was another car ready for Sarah if James decided to eliminate her at the end of the date.
Despite her overall confusion about the evening, Lily did end up enjoying herself a bit as people cycled through on the stage. There were some really great stories — the one about the old man and some kite festival was one of Lily's favourites — and she found that she didn't hate sitting there listening to them as much as she thought she might at the beginning of the date.
James was scheduled to go third from the end, so Lily started making her way through the crowd as the guy currently on stage started to wrap up his story about… well, Lily wasn't really sure what it was about, but there had been a cougar early on.
She had just made her way backstage when the host called James' name — Lily watched from the wings as the spotlight hit his face and James ducked his head, embarrassed, before he made his way to the stage.
She pretended not to notice the fact that Sarah had totally grabbed his arse.
James' story wasn't all that exciting — they'd written him something bland and inoffensive — so Lily didn't feel bad for not listening to a damn word of his performance. She was more caught up in the way that he was acting it out on stage anyway, in his wild gestures and enthusiastic expressions and the way that he really leaned into the absurdity of the story he was telling.
It didn't matter that Lily had no idea what he was talking about — he was selling the hell out of it.
The applause for James was thunderous compared to everyone else that had gone that night, and Lily bit back a smile as James bowed once, twice, before he turned and started towards the wings. Lily took James by the elbow the moment he got off stage, ignoring his shocked gasp when she took his arm, and led him to a corner far away from anyone who might be able to overhear them.
He frowned down at her as she let go of him.
'What?'
'I —' she frowned. She'd almost forgotten they were fighting. 'Nothing, I just — we need to talk about what you're going to do. It's an elimination date, remember?'
'Oh fuck,' James scrubbed a hand over his face. 'I forgot about that.'
'Yeah,' Lily dropped a hand onto her hip. 'So what are you thinking? Do I need to text Mary and have her send another town car or are we going to be driving Ms Darby back to her hotel?'
James shot her a look. 'Do you have to be like that?'
Now she remembered they were fighting.
'Like what?'
'Like — I don't know, like you hate her?'
Lily scoffed. 'I don't hate her and I'm not being like anything. Just — are you keeping her or not? I'd like to get a move on if we're not.'
James frowned at her for a minute and Lily saw a million different replies flash across his face before he finally sighed and decided to take the path of least resistance.
'It's just not there for me with her,' he said, and he didn't look Lily in the eye and god she was glad because she had no idea what her face looked like. 'It should be there at this stage, you know?'
Lily pulled her mobile from her back pocket and used it as an excuse not to look up. 'Uh-huh.'
Lily Evans: send another car to Toner's
Mary MacDonald: yikes — sending now x
Lily Evans: thanks x
She expected James to be gone, so when she started to walk back out into the crowd — her eyes still trained on her screen — she nearly walked into him.
'Shit,' Lily pressed a hand against his chest to steady herself and then immediately snatched it back like she'd been burned. 'I — sorry, I thought you were gone.'
James shook his head. 'Still here.'
'I see that.'
They were quiet for a beat. Lily heard the announcer call out another name and the audience started applauding as whoever it was got up from their table and started towards the stage.
'I guess I should go back there,' he said.
Lily nodded. 'Probably.'
Neither of them moved.
'Lily, I — nevermind.' He turned to walk away and Lily reached out, took his elbow.
'What?' She moved so she was standing in front of him. 'James, what?'
He shook his head slowly. 'It's nothing. I've got to get back to Sarah. She'll be waiting for me.'
There were a million things that Lily wanted to say just then. That she didn't care about Sarah. That she was sorry. That she thought they could find an empty broom cupboard if they tried hard enough.
But instead of saying any of those things, she just nodded slowly and stepped out of James' way so that he could walk past her back into the crowd.
Lily's mobile buzzed in her hand and the bright light of the screen dazzled her after the darkness backstage.
Mary MacDonald: car should be there now. Ready when you are
Lily took a deep breath and replied — we've just got to get through the rest of these stories and then I can get the hell out of here
She knew that, realistically, it wasn't really that long, but now that she knew how the evening was going to end, it really seemed like it was dragging along, this date did.
The story-reading portion of the evening concluded, James and Sarah had another round of beers (which they were allowed to drink) and dinner was served (which they were not allowed to eat) and they sat around chatting for the better part of an hour before James finally worked up the courage to do what he had to do.
They'd just hit a lull in the conversation that neither of them seemed able to fill when James cleared his throat and shifted nervously in his seat.
'Sarah, I — I'm sure you know that this date is an elimination date.'
He looked down at his lap for a moment, pulled in a deep, slow breath. When he looked up again, his eyes found Lily's first.
It was automatic. He corrected himself almost immediately, but that — the impulse —
He flicked his gaze back to Sarah's and a frown creased his forehead. 'Sarah, I'm sorry, but — I won't be asking you to stay this week.'
Lily saw Sarah's shoulders go rigid immediately. She was quiet for a minute before she sat up a bit taller in her chair and squared her shoulders.
'Can I ask why?'
James had clearly been hoping that this would just be over already, but he cleared his throat, nodded, and Lily could tell, even from this distance, that he was racking his brains for something that wasn't going to make the fact that he'd just dumped her worse than it already was.
'I just — we're getting down to the wire and I can only keep women that I feel like I have a really genuine connection with. And you're great, but —'
'We don't have a connection? How — you don't feel the connection between us?' Sarah's brow furrowed as she gestured between her and James.
James shook his head. 'No, Sarah, I don't.'
And then Sarah started to cry.
Loudly.
Some of the extras' reactions — god, Peter was going to love it when he saw some of their faces on the tape.
'Sarah,' James reached out and rested his hand on hers on the table. He looked like he was in agony. 'Sarah, I'm sorry.'
'Oh, you're sorry?' She looked up and glared so intensely at him that Lily thought James might catch fire. 'Sorry doesn't really make a difference to me, James. Sorry doesn't make you go back in time and decide not to break up with me.'
'I — Sarah, I just — the chemistry.'
'Whatever.' Sarah shot up from the table, threw her napkin onto her plate, and started storming out of the pub. James sat there for a moment, stock still, before Lily jumped into the shot and nudged him in the shoulder.
'James, go. Follow her out!'
He sat still a moment longer before he sighed, got to his feet, and shouted, 'Sarah! Sarah, come on!'
By the time he got outside, though, Sarah was already halfway down the street.
James stood on the pavement outside the pub and watched as Sarah marched off towards her town car just down the road, Marc and her cameraman following her closely. Lily could just make out Marc's voice as they walked away, rambling off questions to try and get Sarah to react, to get something, anything that might be usable.
'Sarah, were you expecting the date to end this way? What did you expect coming into tonight? How do you feel right now?'
Lily sucked in a deep breath and, without turning to look at James, started up the road towards James' car and climbed in.
She settled herself in her seat, ran her hands over her thighs to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the fabric, and when the car door opened again, Lily turned to face the window so that she didn't have to watch James climb inside.
She could see the blinking red of Benjy's camera light reflected in the window, could feel the tension that had settled in the air between them. She could also see James watching her, could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, but she refused to turn around, refused to look at him and open something back up that she was desperately trying to keep closed.
This could only end one possible way and she wasn't — she couldn't let it get there. Not again.
Benjy was the first one out of the car when they arrived at the hotel.
Being alone, even for that brief moment in time, was enough to set Lily's heart racing. She took a deep breath and looked up at him.
'I'm going to get out and shut the door behind me. Give us a moment then climb out and head right through the hotel.' Lily didn't wait for James to reply — she just slid across the seat and scrambled out onto the pavement.
Benjy gave her a look as she shut door behind her. 'I need a shower.'
Lily frowned at him. 'What?'
'The way he was looking at you in there?' Benjy braced one hand against the camera and fanned himself with the other. 'Damn girl.'
Lily scoffed at him as playfully as she could muster and rapped on one of the side windows to let James know he was good to get out. 'Fuck off, Fen.'
Luckily, James climbed out of the car before Benjy had time to reply.
They packed themselves into the lift up to the penthouse, no one speaking as they moved slowly towards the fourth floor. James strode out into the corridor the moment the lift opened, started digging in his back pocket for the keycard to his room while Benjy and Lily followed behind him at a distance.
He swiped the card, walked inside, and the door fell shut behind all of them.
They'd set up an interview space before they'd left (another chair out on another balcony), so James walked outside and settled himself in the chair while Lily threaded the power cord for the lights into the hotel room and plugged them in. She and Benjy adjusted the light for a few minutes — lighting was never one of Lily's strong suits, but she felt better knowing that Benjy had a good eye for it — before they had the right balance of brightness (to see James' face) and darkness (to see the city lights spread out behind him).
'So, James,' Lily said as she sat down in the chair beside Benjy's camera. 'What did you think about the date tonight?'
They batted questions back and forth for about a half an hour — James was so much better at knowing what she was looking for now when she was asking him questions that she rarely needed to elaborate or ask for more detail. He supplied it from the off and it made both their lives so much easier.
When they'd finished, she and James walked back into the penthouse while Benjy started packing up the camera equipment and bringing it inside. She walked over, leant up against one of the arm chairs in the lounge area, and did her best to keep from looking James in the eye.
Regardless of whether or not she was looking at him, though, she could feel him looking at her.
The weight of his gaze, and their silence, was pressing on her the longer she stood there. She wanted desperately to look up, but she knew that if she did — if she saw the look on his face —
She was going to be sunk. Fucking sunk.
And she'd come this far.
Benjy set the last heavy bag on the floor inside and slid the balcony door shut.
'Phew,' he wiped at his brow, a broad smile on his face. 'That shit is fucking heavy.'
'Do you want some help carrying it out?' Lily asked. She pushed up off the chair and Benjy's eyes flicked rapidly between her and James.
'Nah, Lils,' he shook his head at her as he grabbed a bag off the floor and gave her an easy smile as he hitched it over his shoulder. 'I got it.'
'Are you sure?' Lily took a few steps closer to the sliding glass door and Benjy shook his head again.
'Really,' he said. 'It's alright.'
Benjy started towards the door and Lily hesitated for a long moment before she turned on her heel to follow him. And then, finally, James spoke and Lily froze.
'Evans.'
She should just keep going. Finish crossing the room and open the door. She shouldn't turn around, should pretend like she didn't hear him or —
She shouldn't turn around.
But she could feel the heat of his gaze on her back and she was frozen beneath it. She just stood there, staring at the deep grooves in the wooden floor while half of her was urging her feet to move and the other half was begging her to drop it, for once, to hear what he has to say and to let him in just a little bit because when she was being honest, something that happened so rarely these days, she couldn't deny that she wanted this. Him.
She turned around.
Fuck.
He — the look in his eyes.
She couldn't ignore him when he was looking at her like that. She didn't want to.
She cleared her throat, pulled her eyes from his, and looked to Benjy.
'Fen — '
Benjy was nodding before Lily could even finish her sentence and Lily watched as the red light on the camera clicked off. 'I already got the interview, so, you know, I think it's fine. I'll just — '
He tipped his head towards the door and Lily nodded, stepped to the side of the room so that Benjy had room to walk past her.
The sound of the door shutting behind Benjy settled like lead in her stomach.
She pulled in a sharp breath, did her best to tip her chin up, square her shoulders.
'You wanted to talk about something?'
James' shoulders fell forward and he reached up, scrubbed a hand over his face. It was like he was crumbling in front of her and though the sight was almost too much to bear, she couldn't — the alternative —
'Lily,' he pinched the bridge of his nose, pulled in a long breath before he looked at her again. 'Lily, I'm done.'
'What?' This was not where she imagined this conversation going. 'What do you mean you're done?'
'I — I can't do this.'
'Do what?'
'This!' He gestured forcefully between them, a frown carved onto his face. 'I can't do this, Lily. I can't — this show. I'm done. I'm fucking done.'
Lily started shaking her head. 'No, James. No. You — you can't be done. We're almost done filming for fucks' sake! James, you — you signed a contract!'
'I don't care. I can't — I don't have feelings for any of these women and it's just — it's not right.'
'I —' She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. 'We've been over this.'
James nodded forcefully. 'And we're going to keep going over this because I don't think that you're hearing me when I'm telling you that I've finished with this.'
'Of course I fucking hear you. You keep shouting about it!'
'Because I need you to understand that I can't keep doing this! I can't do this to them, Lily. To Liza and Claire and Summer and — I can't do this to them! They're amazing women and all that I'm thinking about —' James raked a hand through his hair and started pacing short paths along the end of the bed.
He turned hard on his heel after a few passes and looked at her.
'Lily, you know how I feel. Just — tell me where your head's at. Because if you say that you're over it, that this doesn't mean anything to you, that the last two weeks we've gone without speaking have effectively cured you of whatever attraction you fucking had for me — Lily, if you can say that, I'll drop it. I'll — I'll refocus and I'll figure out a way to deal with this so that I can see what develops between me and… whoever. But if you feel anything like I feel —' He touched a hand to his chest and took a step closer to her.
'Evans, if you feel even an ounce of what I feel for you, I've gotta know.'
The escape was right there. All she had to do was tell him that she didn't feel the same way. That her feelings for him had burned themselves up. That hot and bright and intense as they were, they hadn't lasted long.
It was right there.
'James, I —' She looked down at her feet for a moment, bit the inside of her lip. When her eyes found his, he looked more nervous than she'd ever seen him.
'Of course I still have feelings for you, James. Of course I do. But —' She held up her hand because James had started closing the space between them and she wasn't done. She needed to get the rest of this out because he wasn't going to like where this was going and she wasn't going to be able to get there if he came any closer.
'James, the fact that I desperately want to be with you doesn't change the reality of the situation we're in. And I know you think I'm being ridiculous,' she raised her voice a touch because James had opened his mouth like he was going to protest, 'and maybe Liza and Summer and them get hurt either way we do this, but — I shouldn't have kissed you in the car that day in Barcelona. I shouldn't've let us get as close as we did. I shouldn't've done a million things that I did with you, things I wanted to do because you — you're amazing. But it's not right, not to do it like this. You know it's not. No matter what we feel for each other, it's not right to start something in the middle of this.'
James took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment like he was trying to steady himself.
'So tell me again why getting out of it isn't our best option. Tell me why you care more about my lawyers having work to do than you do about us having a shot.'
She sighed heavily. 'James, do you really think that we'll have anything even resembling a normal relationship if this is how it starts? In the middle of tabloid scrutiny and lawsuits and unemployment and drama? You think that is a strong start to any relationship we might want to build?'
James peeled his glasses off and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose.
'I know you don't like to hear it, James,' her voice softened and, before she thought better of it, she stepped closer to him. They were still a few feet away, but she could touch him if she reached out her hand. She could wind her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, take two steps forward and she'd be flush against him.
'I know you don't like to hear it, but this is why we started ignoring each other. Because every time we come back to this conversation and every time it comes back to this. There's no answer, no path that we're both willing to take.'
James slid his glasses back onto his face and when he opened his eyes and looked at her, he looked so unbearably miserable that Lily wanted to take it all back.
'So what are we saying?'
His voice was rough and deep and Lily could practically feel it scraping across her skin.
She took a deep breath, summoned the last bit of courage she had.
'What we've always been saying — there isn't anything between us and there isn't going to be.'
34 notes · View notes
readbythestarlight · 6 years
Text
c2e28
“This flask is Taliesin’s new character” shut up Sam don’t mock us
They’re FINALLY going to go check out the Taskers and i swear if Taliesin’s character isn’t with them I’m gonna die
(unless this is all a trick and Taliesin is just hanging out until Molly can reasonably be brought back…)
Caleb stepping in and doing some strategizing both makes me proud and makes me sad because I guarantee he was great at that before Everything happened
Beau and Caleb disagreeing over a spider
“Shady Debaters Debate Team” I would wear that shirt
Nila wants to use her lighting let her fuck people up with her lightning draw people outside for her to fry please
Yes please get yourself some goddamn healing potions
YAAAAS NILA HAS HEALING WORDS
and good berries xD
GUYS I STILL LOVE HER SO MUCH I WOULD STILL DIE FOR HER
The Bone Orchard…ooooooo
Necromancers maybe?
Please go to the Taskers first I feel like Taliesin has to be with them
If people have been torturning Jester I’m gonna cry she’s too sweet for this
Nila’s smell bag is so cute y’all stop teasing her
“You are relying on me, I’m very happy” sHE’S SO PURE
Oh shiiiiit she just saved them from freaky forest ground monsters that’s my girl!
GRAVE SITE I’M TELLING YA ITS NECROMANCERS
Caleb getting tired of the debate and just heading over the gate
Not just carelessly flinging herself after him smh
Spooooooky place I don’t know how I feel about this
YAAAAAAAAS THEY FOUND HIM HOLY SHIT AHHHHHHHHHHHH OF COURSE HE LIVES IN A GODDAMN GRAVEYARD I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN HE IS THE ULTIMATE GOTH
HE’S A FIRBOLG???
“Caduceus Clay” AND HES A CLERIC GOD BLESS Jester will be delighted that she doesn’t have to do all the healing anymore
Caduceus seems delightful I’m delighted I MISSED YOU TALIESIN
fuck i love him already
he’s like the goddamn grave keeper TALIESIN COULD YOU HAVE GONE ANY MORE GOTH
B: “You’re drinking dead-people tea?”
Cad: “Aren’t we all?”
THE. ULTIMATE. GOTH.
…can’t bring Molly back. I’m not surprised at all given that it would be weird to bring his own character back, but still. That’s okay. It’s fine.
He just figured he’d sit there with his tea until someone came to help him leave lol
C: “Welcome to the Mighty Nein”
Cad: “There’s only, uh—“
B: “DON’T overthink it”
Nott shooting Beau to test Cad’s healing xD
FRUMPKIN NO DONT KILL HIM
fuuuuuuuck he dead
they needed him god dammit
HE’S ALIVE
ALIVE BY 1
I can’t decide if this is going to be a disaster, them going after them again right now, or???
LETS NOT SPLIT UP AT ALL EVEN JUST TO KILL TWO GUARDS
Taking off her armor is a horrible idea guys
Guest!Ashley has the cutest face and the purest laugh??? I love her
While we’re on break I’m trying to decide, is it weird that Taliesin chose to play a cleric when they already have a cleric? Part of me is like “what if he did that because he knew they were gonna need the temporary heals and he’s just gonna stick around as Cad until Jester is back and then he’s gonna rez Molly” and part of me is just like bfs girl Molly is gone let him go??
I don’t think I’ll be able to move on from Molly for sure though until the M9 move on from Shady Creek, with Cad tagging along.
Frumpkin the 3-HP spider
Not asking Cad questions nervously is adorable
Beau just sticking her face in the bag for the luck orb xD
Caleb: talks about breaking a guy’s skull
Nila: “excellent”
Poor Taliesin having to figure out a whole new character. He’d barely really figured out Molly yet.
20 for a perception check nice job Keg!
Sumalee accidentally meta gaming is honestly just cute enough that i don’t even care she could metagame all day and i’d be fine with it
HERE THEY GOOOOO
Matt looks so lost xD
FUCK ‘EM UUUUUUP TEAM BEAU/CALEB/NILA
FUCK ‘EM UUUUUUP TEAM KEG/NOTT/CAD
good rolls, good rolls…
YAAAAS GO KEG!
YAAAAAS NILA BASH HIM DO IT GIRL she’s been waiting to kill someone for so long
goddamn they handled that SO WELL LOOK AT THEM IM SO PROUD
“one was just enjoying the wind, and then darkness forever” Matt xD
Goddamn I can’t believe they pulled that off so well. Lorenzo better watch the fuck out.
Are we calling him Clay then because I liked Cad
Frumkpin the flying spider?? Methinks they all forgot Caleb made him a spider
Nila’s so excited to have like 32 gold she’s so cute you guys
Keg get another nat20 for stealth
okay… are they really unnoticed I’m nervous
B: “Look at the—look at the windows, too.”
Cad: “They’re nice.”
I love hiiiiiim
We can’t go get friends tho because they’re not HERE YET
Boy I can’t wait to see this map
Liam missing his rogue days hardcore right now lol
YAAAAS Taliesin with the nat20 deception I was so scared
“I’m gonna have an ulcer after this game” fucking SAME
Ashley and Sam holding hands like SAME god the stress
Also heck yeah we’re uncovering the maaaaap!
Liam is just very thoroughly uncovering the map
fuck don’t squish Frumpkin
“Hey Phil come help me kill this spider!”
Oh thank god good job poofing him out Caleb
I’m serous guys I love Caleb coming up with plans and leading the group in Fjord’s absence I love it
WAIT
YOU CANT SEND NOTT IN BY HERSELF
DONT DO THAT
FUCK
WE CANT AFFORD TO LOSE ANOTHER MEMBER OF THE GANG GUYS
NOT NOTT
Hey Caleb can you teach Nott the door unlocking spell?
Keg: “Nott. Be careful.”
Nott: “…Do you care about me?”
K: “…Yeah.”
N: *happy wiggle*
Fuck I don’t like this they were doing so well but this is going to be a disaster
A NAT1
FUUUUUUUUUCK
KILL THEM
fuck it was going so well god DAMMIT Caleb this was a BAD PLAN
God they’re not even all together I am literally so afraid right now
Yessss hasted Keg
fuckfuckfuck im literally so fucking scared right now
okay good they missed Not
FUCK ‘EM UP NILA
NO SAVE THE TOTEM FOR LORENZO
SAVE IT NILA
SAVE IT
poison spray yesss that sounds nice and 12pts damage good girl
poor Sam has such a hard time with his rogue skills
NOTT STOP RUNNING AHEAD
GOD Y’ALL DID MOLLY TEACH YOU NOTHING
fuck them up Keg
Yessssss kill him Keg my hero
Hasted Keg is the best man 4 attacks? She’s helping make up for a lack of Yasha
Keg getting between Nott and danger is so sweet I’m crying is she trying to make sure Molly does’t happen all over again
I would also die for Keg you guys
Sorry Phil you dead
BITCH HAS YASHA’S SWORD
FUCK HER UP
Wait until you get in the room above the trap door at least Nila
I adore her
PHIL DON’T YOU TOUCH NILA
yesssss he misses
NOTT
DONT FUCKING GO NEAR THE BARBARIAN
“IM THINKING OF REMOVING MY SPINE… CAUSE IT’S ONLY HOLDING ME BACK! :D”
holy shit Nott put her prone I’m crying I’m sorry I doubted you Nott
Fuck up the barbarian Keg yessss
Action surge means what what is that it’s cool
NAT20 YAAAAAS Keg is the BEST you guys
What I’m taking from this is that women name Ashley make the best lady characters and get the job done
why are you spending key points in non-combat when Lorenzo is still out there somewhere
Oh jeez are Cad or Nila close enough to heal Keg if she needs it??
DON’T TAKE AWAY HASTE
fuck
Liam and Matt gonna fight lol
Let Nila beat the door in
MOMMA POWERS ACTIVATE and she beats in the door HELL YEAH
Maybe she should have saved the totem for IN the trap door?
Sumalee is so concerned that she’s gonna make a mistake it’s cute
UH I KNOW IT’S A JOKE BUT YOU CAN TAKE TALIESIN’S NEW CHARACTER FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS SOMEONE ELSE CAN DIE
Cad coming in with the heals heck yes
“A cleric who likes to heal! It’s amazing” LOL Sam. My thoughts exactly though
This isn’t going terrible but it isn’t going great and I’m worried about what they will have left when it comes time to face Lorenzo
YEAAAAAH HDYWTDT CALEB HECK YES somebody grab Yasha’s sword
also damn Caleb you get vicious with that fire
oh baby
please don’t freak again Molly isn’t here to forehead kiss you out of it
Aw first time he managed not to have issues
Maybe Lorenzo isn’t home… that would be great…
Or he’s downstairs…
Damn, Taliesin, that’s so amazingly morbid and fantastic. Just melting them away into fertilizer.
Nott apologizing for not being able to unlock the door and Caleb reassuring her that it’s not her fault. My heart.
Trapped door.
They are all getting silly xD
Oh god okay here we go
“I like pink better than purple” Liam how dare you
Manacles again ffs Matt
God a whole underground place
“He’s looking for green or blue or goth”
Fuuuuck they gotta get through at least 3 more??
And still no Lorenzo
fuck i don’t like thiiiiiiis
Lorenzo is absolutely in there. If he was upstairs he would have come down.
You’re assuming that there isn’t another way out that they could escape through and flank you
Matt’s like “I just got the downstairs map out guys”
Cad/Clay/Whatever like “let’s just?? ask??”
Oh no
stop him
“fucking Phil, ammiright?”
fuck this son of a bitch up
16 damage fuck him uppppp Nila!
fuck him uuuuup Keg!
fuck him up Clay!
fuck him up Nott!
Clay just… turning him into mulch I’m crying
Damn I’m so impressed they took care of that so well
fuck traps
PLEASE LET NILA’S BABY BE OKAY
Nila being such a mom is my favorite like I’m so here for the peaceful person who has never hurt anyone, but will fuck you UP for touching their loved ones
SOMEONE HEAL ASSAR
IM CRYING
MATT STOP IT
it’s fine I’m only crying a little
“be well. be well my son.”
I’m very much crying
Let her rip it open Matt let her do it
Okay Nila it’s okay let Nott try or Caleb then if Nott can’t
SAM stop with the 1s!!
SHES GOT HER FAMILY BACK AGAIN I CRYYYYYYY
the power of love is stronger than metal bars hell yes
“I love it when it works for the narrative!” lol Matt at his most DM-i-est
FAMILY HUG ITS FINE IM NOT CRYING
oh god I’m gonna miss Nila so much
WE LOVE YOU NILA I HOPE WE SEE YOU AGAIN SOME DAY
FIRBOLG HUG
I’ve cried way too much these past like idk 7 episodes
Nila is forever a member of the M9 y’all save that feather
it’s fine
it’s totally fine
How many members of the M9 are there now
Fjord Jester Caleb Nott Beau Molly Yasha, then Shakaste, Cali, Kiri, Keg, Nila, and now Clay.
God this was such a good episode.
Caduceus is great guys. He’s different enough from Molly not to make me heartsore, and I think he’ll bring a nice new dynamic? I’m not at all disappointed by him (not that I expected to be, I knew Taliesin wouldn’t let us down).
I’m gonna miss Nila so much. Like Marisha said, she was the softness the group needed.
I can’t believe Sumalee has never properly played before! That’s amazing! She was amazing! I hope I can be half that great at my first proper game!
And I’m so excited to see how it goes next week, live from GenCon! Excited to see how this section wraps up. It’s gonna be amazing.
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seok-shinee · 6 years
Text
wHaT eVeN iS tHiS? Luwoo X Reader🤧 Pt.1
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If you’re coming from wowzitaox or whatever, this is the Walmart version of her ff https://wowzitaox.tumblr.com/post/176559398183/what-is-this-lucas-x-reader-part-one-in-what-is it’s meant to be a joke so it’s purposely bad hsj
We’re friends so I’m not like copying anything plz don’t come @ me thx lmao
"Yo bitch" you said as you entered the room. Lucas shot his head up, averting his eyes from his phone to look at you. "why do I respond to that now?" He asked. "Who knows" you said "😘😘". 
You plopped yourself on the couch next to Lucas. "What do you need y/n" he asked turning his phone off and setting it beside him "so...." you started trying to gather your thoughts "you know my brother Johnny?" You asked resting your chin on the heel of you hand. "Oh yeahhh the one you're related to?" Lucas asked mirroring your actions "yes! that one!" You exclaimed happy he knew who you were talking about.
"What about him?" Lucas asked "uhh ok well he and his boyfriend are coming to visit this weekend and if I don't have a boyfriend he's gonna be an asshat about it so do you wanna be my fake boyfriend for the weekend?" You said giving Lucas a please say yes smile. Lucas looked at you debating on whether to say yes or no. "What would I get in return?" He asked. Hmm you thought what would Lucas want... "food" you blurted out.
"Deal" Lucas said reaching his hand out "deal" you said taking his hand firmly.
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Before you knew it, it was Friday, the day Johnny and Ten would be coming over.
“Hey dumbass” you called “What’s up?” Lucas asked walking out from the kitchen with frozen pizza in his hand “Johnny and his boyfriend are coming over today” you said grabbing the pizza out of Lucas’ hands and taking a bite. “Hey!” Lucas shouted “Why are you eating my payment 😤”
“What have you even done to deserve payment yet?” You asked still holding the pizza “I’ve had to deal with your headass for 8 years”
“Hey! that was uncalled for”
“So was taking my pizza now give it back” Lucas said taking the pizza out of your hands. You were about to beat his ass when suddenly your phone started ringing. You ran over to it and saw Johnny was calling.
“Hi Johnny what’s up?”
“Hey I was just calling to say I’m almost on my way”
“Ok is that all?”
“Yup”
“Alright then see you soon, bye”
“Bye y/n”
After hanging up you looked at Lucas “we can’t just be waiting by the door this has to be natural”
“Hmm I could walk out of the bathroom naked and brushing my teeth and be like oh sorry I didn’t know he was coming over today”
“Okay first of all it’s like 3pm why the hell would you be naked and brushing your teeth, and second of all I said natural”
“Well damn sorry I was just trying to help”
“How about you just stay in the kitchen and when he comes I’ll yell Lucas! Johnny’s here!”
“Sure sounds like a better plan than mine”
“Of course it does” You said rolling your eyes and walking out of the kitchen.
A couple minutes later you heard a knock on the door. Rushing over you opened the door “Johnny! I feel like it’s been forever”
“It’s been a month”
“Basically forever”
“Whatever you say” Johnny said stepping in the house and slipping his shoes off. “Lucas! Johnny is here!” You shouted looking over to the kitchen “Ok I’ll go get dressed!” he yelled back and walked out of the kitchen and into one of the bedrooms.
“who’s that?” Johnny asked “Uh no one” you responded looking at the huge self portrait of Lucas placed above your fireplace. Johnny followed your gaze with an eyebrow raised. “Whatever... I’m gonna go raid your pantry” he said said walking into your kitchen
“Why is Ten not here” you asked turning around to find Lucas walking out of your bedroom and Johnny stuffing his face with chips in your kitchen “oh” he said putting the chip bag down and chewing “we fucked before I drove here so he was tired and wanted to stay home” Lucas laughed at the entrance of the kitchen.
“Grouse! Did you wash your hands” you asked
“Nope”
“Oh my god keep the chips. They can be my baby shower gift”
“But Ten isn’t pregnant”
“Plot twist this is an mpreg fanfic”
“What”
“Nothing”
“So is this Lucas?” Johnny asked gesturing towards Lucas “No this is Patrick” Lucas said cause both you and Johnny to laugh
“Yes I’m Lucas y/ns boyfriend” he said reaching out his hand in which Johnny gladly took “I’m surprised she managed to get one, how much is she paying you for this?” Lucas snorted “How much does Pizza Hut cost?” he jokingly asked which led you to smack him.
“So how’d you guys meet?” Johnny asked glancing at the two of you.
“Lucas told a pick-up line to Jungwoo in chemistry and I laughed so hard that I knocked over one of the viles and ruined Lucas’ pants. I ended up taking him to the mall to buy him new ones” You said with both you and Lucas giggling.
“What was the pick-up line?” Johnny asked “Man I wish I was the Enzyme DNA Helicase” Lucas said “Why” you asked playing along “So I could unzip your genes” everyone laughed at the horrible joke
“Well I should get going I’m sure Ten is sore” Johnny said walking towards the door. You rolled your eyes at your brother who can’t seem to keep anything to himself “Alright then” you said and followed him to the door “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?” He asked putting on his shoes “Yeah sure there’s a cute little restaurant 10 minutes away from here, you can bring Ten then” you answered “Okay talk to you later then! Nice to meet you Lucas” he said stepping outside your apartment “Nice to meet you too Johnny” Lucas said smiling and draping his arm over your shoulders.
As soon as the door closed he removed his arm from your shoulders again
“I better get some breadsticks with my pizza tonight for all of that”
“Shut up you barely did anything”
“Still nerve wracking it’s even worse when you aren’t sure if you’re even acting like a boyfriend”
“You’ll survive”
“I’m not hetero enough for this”
“you’re like 50% hetero you’ll be fine” you sighed walking over to sit on the couch
“Yeah and that 50% is all for Hyuna there’s no room for you”
“Then make room”
“There’s too much big dick energy there’s not even a corner for you”
“C’mon it’s just for a couple days ”
“Yeah I could be spending those days trying to seduce Jungwoo not faking to be a hetero smh”
“Oh my god I’m giving you food”
“Jungwoos the real snack”
“Ok either shut your gay ass up and come watch Mulan with me or go”
“You’re lucky Li Shang is hot” he mumbled as he joined you on the couch
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faeriexqueen · 7 years
Note
Hello, I hope I'm not late for asking on that prompt thing yulma + 28 ^^
You are never too late to request some Yuulma! :D 
Title: PromisePairing: Yuulma (Alma Karma/Yuu Kanda)Chapters: 1Words: 2,818Summary: What Kanda said shouldn’t have bothered Alma. After all, it wasn’t like they spoke anymore to begin with.  (Prompt for “We are not friends!”)AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11842101FF: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12620260/1/Promise
It shouldn’t have bothered Alma.  But it did.
Alma couldn’t blame Kanda.  Aftereverything that had happened – after trying to kill Kanda twice – Alma couldn’t blame Kanda for saying what he had said.Kanda more than likely hated Alma now. That much seemed obvious; why else would Kanda hardly spare a glance inAlma’s direction, and so purposefully avoid looking at him? Not that the two of them had much of a chance to interact.  After the disastrous incident at the NorthAmerican Branch, Alma’s barely alive body (an abomination, really) had beenconfiscated.  Alma didn’t remember thedetails of everything; his mind was fuzzy with hatred, and the influence of theMillennium Earl.  He didn’t even know howhe was still alive – hadn’t he been intended to self-destruct?  That was what the Noah had wanted…except thatother one.  The one with white-hair.  That boy who had a Noah inside him.  Whathad happened to him?Alma didn’t know – no one had told him. No one cared to.  It was unclear to Alma just how much time had passed since the whole incidentoccurred.  Enough had passed that he’dbeen able to regenerate.  It had beenpainful, not only in the physical sense, but in the psychological one as well.Why couldn’t they have just let Alma die?A part of Alma wished that the Order and the Noah would have let him and Kandajust kill each other off.  Staying aliveonly caused suffering, and it was not even a life that either of them had.  Kanda was still caught up in that person, and Alma was trapped by thenotion that he was forever a part of that person.Alma didn’t even know if he could be called his own person anymore.  His mind. His feelings.  Ownership of suchthings suddenly seemed impossible.Freedom, too.  Once Alma had shown signsthat he was going to somehow recover, the scientists had kept him onlockdown.  It was expected; Alma wasconsidered highly dangerous, and had been responsible for a massacre evenbefore he was infused with dark matter.   But, that also made him somehow valuable tothe Black Order, and worth keeping.  ‘As a weapon,’ Alma reminded himselfbitterly.  ‘They always meant to keep us as weapons.’The Black Order really was no different than the Noah, it seemed.Eventually, Alma had been repaired enough physically so that he didn’t need tobe practically quarantined.  He stillalways had someone supervising him – Alma didn’t know if he’d ever get a momentalone ever again.  But, he was at leastable to be exposed to other members of the Black Order after being transferredto European Headquarters.  Although it was debatable on whether or not that was a good thing.  Many of Alma’sakuma characteristics were still evident: the pointed ears, the coloredmarkings, the tail.  Alma was just as freakish as he always was,except this time it was visible to the naked eye.  He had always been a freak.  Being called an apostle of God had beennothing more than a nice way of saying such.Most members of the Order seemed to avoid Alma. They maybe chanced a glance in his direction at best, but then wouldlook away quickly before whispering to one another.  It angered Alma, but he had to do his best topretend he couldn’t hear.  Any signs ofloss control would mean instant isolation, if the threat wasn’t great enough towarrant a death it seemed.Being able to go out was how Alma periodically saw Kanda though.  The interactions were hardly non-existentthough.  Kanda often ignored Alma,pretending the second exorcist-turned-akuma didn’t exist.  And Alma would do the same. On more than one occasion, Alma had noticed people looking at the two of themnervously, as though they had no idea what to expect.  Usually, Alma felt the same.  He never knew what to expect with Kanda.  But Kanda probably hated him.Alma tried to tell himself he wasn’t upset by this.But, then came the day where Kanda said something.  It wasn’t to Alma – how could it have been,when Kanda never even looked his way? No, it had been to some Chinese girl – Lenalee, and exorcist and theyounger sister of Chief Komui Lee.  Sheand Kanda had been in the dining hall, when Alma and his supervisor had arrivedthere to get dinner.  Kanda and Lenaleehad already been seated, though Lenalee had spotted Alma before turning toKanda.  She had kept her voice soft in alikely attempt to make sure Alma couldn’t hear her speak, but Alma’s acutehearing picked up on the words regardless.“Hey, Kanda?  Do you think…you’ll evertalk to Alma again?”Kanda hadn’t bothered to glance up from his soba.  When he didn’t answer, Lenalee triedagain.  Her tone was wary.  “I mean…you guys are-“ She caught herselfquickly, “-were friends, right?”This caught Kanda’s attention.  He lookedup at Lenalee sharply.  “We are not friends.” The words came out abruptly, and sounded harsh. Lenalee seemed a little taken aback, actually.  Alma didn’t risk looking at them any longerthough, and focused his attention elsewhere. He felt a pair of eyes on him though, and Alma wondered if they belongedto Lenalee or Kanda.  More than likely,it was just Lenalee.  Kanda wouldn’tbother.It shouldn’t have bothered Alma to hear all this.  It should have bothered Alma.  Except it did.  Alma and Kanda were not friends, and neverreally had been.  And that upset him.Alma left the dining hall quickly.
~~~Night fell, and Alma was surrounded by silence. He had his own room, though the interior of it was minimal indecoration.  Apparently, Alma was stillconsidered hazardous enough so that the Order didn’t even want to give him toomany unnecessary objects as though he’d use them as weapons somehow.  It was a bit ridiculous to Alma, really – buthe hardly had time to notice such a detail when he had to deal with the factthat there was always a guard outside of his door.  God, it was frustrating.  Alma was basicallya prisoner, all while being trained to be useful to the Order in the HolyWar.  ‘Justlike before.  Just like I always was,’ Alma thought, as his eyes stared up at the ceiling.  Dark.  Stone.  Alma had always dreamed of seeing the sky,but now he was just stuck with this.  Stuck with this ceiling.  Stuck in this prison.  Stuck in the same hellhole as Kanda – someonewho Alma had once thought he could befriends with-‘Except we’re not.  We’re not friends, and we never really were,’ Alma tried to tell himself, as he desperately attempted to ignore the ache inhis chest.  The ache he felt every timehe thought about Kanda.Suddenly, there were footsteps outside of Alma’s room.  Ears perking at the noise, Alma turned hisgaze toward the door.  That was peculiar– no one ever came down through the hallway Alma was in.  He was somewhat cut off from the otherexorcists, and nowhere near the finders. The only time Alma ever heardfootsteps was if the guards were trading spots to watch his door, but technicallyit wasn’t time for a shift change.  Almahad experienced enough sleepless nights to have memorized the timing by thispoint.Alma listened, and held his breath.  Heheard no words, which was even stranger. Who was outside right now?  Theirsteps were light, and almost inaudible – which said a lot, since Alma hadhighly sensitive hearing due to his akumatized form.  The door clicked, and Alma realized whoever was outside was coming in.  Immediately growing tense, he tried to decideon whether it would be wise to pretend to be asleep or not.  As soon as the door opened, Almainstinctively shut his eyes as he feigned being asleep, as a childlike feargripped his heart.‘Just go away.  Whoever you are, please just go away,’ Alma silently pleaded.  He had no ideawho was in his room or why, but he did not want to deal with them.Whoever it was that had come in did not speak. They continued to walk softly, and Alma could soon feel their presenceas they stood right next to his bed. Alma forced himself to try to relax, wishing that people would leave himalone.The stranger sat down – on the edge of the bed. A familiar voice spoke.  “Stopdoing that fake sleep shit.  I knowyou’re awake.”Alma’s eyes shot open, and he turned his head. He sat up with a startled expression as he registered just who it was inhis room.  Kanda. Kanda was in his room.  He wassitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed his face looking away fromAlma.  Alma was confused, and in his bewilderment slightly irritable  “What the hell are you doing in here?” Heasked, not sure what was even going on. “And how’d you know I was awake?”Kanda snorted quietly.  “You alwayspulled that act when we were back in the lab. Sometimes when you wanted to get out of the experiments,” Kandacommented.  His voice was quiet, but helda bitter edge.  “Edgar almost fell for ita few times.  Moron.”Alma frowned.  He didn’t like rememberingbeing in the lab, and he especially didn’t like remembering being forced toattempt synchronization.  Turning his gaze away from Kanda, Alma returned to his initial question.  “Why are you here? I didn’t think I wasallowed visitors.”There was a venom in Alma’s tone, but he couldn’t help it.  His life was dictated by the Order – he hadno say in anything.  Neither did Kanda.Kanda’s mouth grew into a hard line.  “Noone knows I’m here.”This caught Alma by surprise.  Almalooked back at Kanda, his brow furrowed slightly.  “What about the guard out-““That guy?  Idiot dozed off fifteenminutes ago.  He really should getfired.”Now Alma looked surprised.  “What, wereyou waiting?  Why?”Kanda sighed in an exasperated tone. “Why do you think?” He asked in annoyance.  “I was trying to fucking get in here.“But why?” Alma interjected, his toneslightly heated.  He had to remindhimself to keep his voice down, or else he might wake the guard outside.  “It’s not like you’ve been reallyacknowledging my existence or anything.“Kanda remained quiet for a moment after that, and Alma wondered if maybe Kandawould just leave.  The silence that fellbetween them was horrendously heavy, and breathing felt difficult.Finally, Kanda spoke.  His tone wasnoticeably softer than before.  “I’mleaving headquarters.”Alma barely registered the words.  Aftera few seconds, they began to sink in. Alma’s expression must have given his realization away, because Kandatook one glance at Alma before quickly continuing.“Not permanently,” Kanda added.  “Ijust…have to go find someone.  Track themdown before I can come back here.”Alma felt his blood turn cold.  He turnedaway from Kanda sharply, trying to ignore the pang of ugly jealousy hefelt.  That person.  Kanda was still obsessed and in love with that person.  “Are you going to look for her?” Alma asked, his voice an icywhisper.God.  That person.  That person that was now Alma.  Or at least, who Alma was made from.  And Kanda was going to keep searching forher.Surprisingly, Kanda shook his head. “No.  I’m not looking for heranymore,” He answered quietly.  “This isjust some idiot I need to find…”Against his better judgment, Alma’s eyes moved back to Kanda.  Kanda was looking away again, but Alma couldsee his profile.  His hair was tied backin a ponytail, but his bangs seemed a bit longer and unkempt.  His expression was distant.Alma’s frown lessened in severity, but still remained.  His eyes flickered away again.  “So why are you telling me?  I thought we weren’t friends.”Kanda closed his eyes, and exhaled through his nose.  He sounded frustrated.  “You’re as stupid as ever,” He muttered,though Alma still heard perfectly well.Alma looked at Kanda sharply.  “Excuseme?”Kanda turned, facing Alma directly.  Itwas the first time he had done so in forever it seemed, and Alma wasmomentarily breathless from the unexpected directness of this interaction.  Kanda, however,appeared unfazed.“You’re as stupid as ever,” Kanda repeated. His expression was oddly devoid of harshness as he said thisthough.  “You’re as stupid as ever,because we are friends.  And I’m telling you why I’m leaving so youknow I’m not leaving for good.”Alma was stunned.  Stunned andsilent.  ‘What…?’He wanted to ask, but the words seemed to stick in histhroat.  They wouldn’t come out.  ‘Ithought you hated me…’When Alma didn’t speak, Kanda took the opportunity to continue.  His words sounded stiff, and his posture wasrigid.  Alma suddenly realized that thiswas because Kanda was uncomfortable. Kanda usually didn’t speak this much.“I’m…I’m going to come back here.  I’llcome back for you,” Kanda continued, voice soft and slightly gruff.    “The Order can’t know though.  They can’t know we’re…”His voice trailed off, but Alma understood. An onslaught of emotion immediately enveloped Alma, and he felt hisinsides tremble.  He didn’t want Kanda togo.  Even if it were temporary…Almadidn’t want to risk losing Kanda.  Notagain.Without thinking, Alma grabbed Kanda’s wrist. He clutched at it tightly, his eyes downcast.  “Yuu…I don’t want you to leave…” Almapleaded, his voice barely audible.  “Whatif you don’t come back…?”The stiffness in Kanda’s expression broke, if only for a brief second.  His eyes appeared to glimmer in the darkenedroom, though Alma couldn’t tell if that were because Kanda’s eyes were wateryor if it was just the way they happened to look.  Or maybe it was because Alma’s eyes were watery that Kanda’s eyes looked such a way.Kanda took hold of Alma’s hand, gently rubbing his fingers over it.  “I’ll come back for you, Alma,” Kandawhispered, as he brought Alma’s hand to his mouth, holding it close.  Alma barely felt Kanda’s lips against theback of his hand, and his heart sped slightly as he felt Kanda pull him close,whispering gently into Alma’s ear.  “Iwon’t let them keep you here.  Ipromise.”Alma clung to Kanda tightly after hearing those words.  He clung to Kanda until he fell back asleep.~~~When Alma woke up the next morning, it was cold.  His room was still dark, and he realized thatthe sun probably hadn’t risen yet.  Forsome reason, he felt sad – incredibly so. Within a few moments, Alma began to recall the events of the previousnight.Kanda.  Kanda had come to his room.  Kanda had told Alma he was leaving.Kanda had promised Alma that he would come back.Alma now remembered that he had fallen asleep while Kanda while still withhim.  Like some weak child who neededprotection, Alma had fallen asleep in Kanda’s arms, clinging closely to him asthough Kanda would faded away into nothingness if Alma were to let go.  Yet somehow, Kanda had still slipped out ofAlma’s grasp, all while Alma was in a slumber.Alma’s heart ached.  He wished he couldhave said goodbye to Kanda one last time. He wished Kanda would have woken him before he left.But, Alma had woken up tucked under sheets that he had not bothered to coverhimself with.  No doubt it had beenKanda’s doing.  ‘Yuu…’ Alma thought, as he tried tosquash the painful yearning he could feel himself beginning to become consumedby.  He wondered if Kanda had possiblynot left yet.  Maybe Kanda would still bearound when Alma went to the dining hall for breakfast, or perhaps Alma wouldcatch a glimpse of him in the training room. Kanda had not specified when he was leaving.These thoughts gave Alma hope.But, when Alma when to the dining hall that morning there was no sign ofKanda.  Lenalee was sitting with anothergroup of exorcists, and there was no sign of Kanda in the training room withMugen.  Eventually, Alma accepted thatKanda had left.  Kanda was gone.“I’ll come back for you, Alma.”Kanda had promised though.  He hadpromised Alma he would come back.Later that day, it became more apparent to other people that the sword-wieldingexorcist had ventured off.  The officialwho was currently supervising Alma had taken note of it, and found it forwhatever reason necessary to comment on“So, your friend took off, huh?” The official prodded, though his words werecold and did not warrant a friendly conversation.In response, Alma threw the man a cool glance before turning away.  “We’re not friends,” Alma answered quietly.‘I’ll wait for you.  Forever.’
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