#tried to use at least two moments when you got to see Colin in person :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyfogg · 3 years

Text

Another Round

Fic Summary: You and Colin have been avoiding each other ever since the two of you were interrupted the other night. However, when Mare calls you to come to the bar to pick up Colin, you’re left with no choice but to deal with a very drunk Detective Zabel. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: Mature

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, mild spoilers

All you want is a quiet evening at home.

The investigation into Erin’s death had shaken everyone to the core in Easttown, and you are no exception. In a place where everyone knows everyone, to have such a sudden and violent crime happen is enough to put the citizens on edge. You are feeling it and you sure as hell know Mare is feeling it. You’ve been doing everything in your power to be there for her and do what she needs but it’s hard since you’re not a full-blown detective. At least, not yet. You hope to be one day once you’ve had enough training and gone through all the proper channels.

For now, you’re content on being Mare’s trainee. Well, more like assistant but technically you’re a trainee. Actually, your exact title is Junior Detective but it makes you feel like you should be wearing a badge made of construction paper attached to your shirt by a safety pin. So you stick with trainee. Though that hasn’t stopped Mare from calling you ‘Junior’. Whether it’s to keep you at arm’s length or she just enjoys annoying the shit out of you, you’re not sure. You assume it’s a little of both.

Anyway, back to the quiet evening thing. You’ve been home for a few hours, settled into your tiny apartment with a slew of snacks and the latest crime docuseries on Netflix when your phone goes off.

You see it’s Mare and immediately pick up. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” You can barely hear her over the background nose. Tons of people are talking over each other with loud music thrown into the mix. “Sorry to call you so late but I need you to come down to the bar.”

“Do we have a lead?”

“Not exactly. It’s Zabel.”

Instantly your heart drops and you get to your feet, immediately scouring the floor for your discarded shoes. “Did something happen? Is Colin alright?”

In the background, you hear, “Heeeey, hey, Mare! Is that her? Are you calling her? Lemme talk to her.”

You hear her struggle for a moment before telling him to knock it off. “He’s fine. Just drunk as shit,” she says once she manages to get the phone back from him. “Can you come pick him up and take him home?”

“Oh, um…alright.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“I just figured since you two—”

“Oh we didn’t end up…we haven’t…” You stop yourself from going any further and embarrassing the both of you. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Ever since Mare interrupted you and Colin about to go at it in his hotel room, things have been more than a little awkward. Despite confessing how much you like each other, neither you nor he has made another move. Before it was spontaneous and a spur-of-the-moment decision, fueled by passion and excitement. By now, you have lost yourself in your own head and you get the sense he has too.

The two of you can’t even make eye contact without him quickly looking away and blushing. It’s adorable, yet incredibly frustrating to say the least. But the case is more important and you’ve been more than happy to forget about the embarrassing incident.

When you get to the bar, you’re faced with a vastly different Colin than you’re used to. The second you walk through the door, he calls your name excitedly and stumbles over, beer in hand.

“Oh my gosh you’re here,” he slurs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Mare! MARE! She’s here!”

“Yeah, I know, Zabel, I called her.” Mare’s face is as stoic as ever, and yet you can still see the corners of her lips twitch up into an amused smile.

“You wanna shot?” he asks you. “Yeah! YEAH, let’s get shots! Imma get you a shot!”

“No, Colin, I’m good,” you say but he’s already stumbling away. “Colin? Colin! Oi, whatever. How long has he been like this?”

“Since I got here,” Mare says, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Sorry, I thought you two were…I mean, the other night…”

“Nothing happened,” you say. “Since, you know, you interrupted. Things have kind of been awkward and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Well, he’s certainly in a talkative mood tonight,” Mare says as you both watch Colin flag down the bartender and loudly ask for two shots. “Just make sure he gets back to the hotel in one piece, alright?”

“Will do, boss.”

“Thanks, junior.”

“Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that.”

She smirks, patting you on the shoulder as she walks by. “I know.”

You make your way through the crowd to the bar where Colin is currently leaning. “Come on, Colin. I’ll take you home,” you say.

“Not before you do a shot with me!” he insists.

“Can’t, I’m driving. Besides, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Come ooooonnnn,” he slurs, nudging you with his shoulder. “Just’the one lil one? Then I’ll go…scout’s honor!”

You can’t help but chuckle, not used to seeing him so carefree and silly. After a moment of contemplation, you ease yourself onto the nearby stool. “Fine. Just the one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Colin exclaims, sitting next to you. “Shottttsss!”

The bartender slides two shots over and you make a subtle motion for him to cut Colin off. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment, slyly swiping Colin’s half-full beer bottle as he moves on to take care of someone else.

“Okay, okay, okay, we need a toast,” Colin says, handing you one of the shots.

“Oh really? To what?”

“Hmmmmm…” Colin’s face scrunches adorably as he tries to get his drunk mind to think. “How ‘bout to us?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Us?”

Colin leans in close, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice dropping low. “Us. You know, me an’ you.”

“Didn’t know there was a me and you.”

“Could be. Should be. We did almost…you know.” He leans in close to your ear and loudly whispers, “Have sex.”

“Yes, yes we did almost have sex.”

“So?” he gestures with his shot, spilling some in the process. “To us?”

“To us then.”

You clink your shot glass against his before knocking the drink back, trying to hold in a cough as the liquid burns your throat. “Dear god that’s strong.”

“YUP.” Colin slams his shot glass down on the countertop, then winces when he realizes what he did. “Oops. Is’okay. S’not broken.”

“And we’d like to keep it that way,” you say, sliding the glasses off to the side. “So, what you say I take you home?”

“Wait, wait, wait, not yet. Let’s talk.” He puts his hand on your arm to stop you from standing. “We need’a talk.”

“About?”

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he apologizes, head slumping on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize, Colin. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I did. I did. I should’a talked to you about it after but I chickened out.”

“Yeah, well, I could have talked to you too. I guess I also chickened out.”

“Here’sa thing. I jus’…you’re soooo beautiful and I get all tongue-tied around you and say stupid shit and I know you’re going to realize there’s someone better for you, and I just…”

Realizing he was way too far gone to be having such a serious conversation in the bar, you slide your arm around his waist. “Hey, hey, let’s talk about it later, okay? Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“Home’s too farrrr.”

“I meant your hotel room.”

“I don’t like it there. Take me to your place.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything. Swear. I jus’…I don’t wanna go back to my empty hotel room.”

Your heart aches at the puppy-dog eyes he gives you and you find yourself relenting. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the sofa and I’m not cleaning it up if you get sick all over yourself.”

“Thas’fair.”

You help Colin settle his tab with the bartender and then you escort him out of the bar, your arm still around his waist. His arm goes around your shoulders again but it’s mostly so he can attempt to walk straight. Eventually, you are able to load him into your car before climbing behind the wheel. The shot didn’t do much of anything and with your place being so close, you know you’re okay to drive.

Colin reclines his seat back, shutting his eyes. As you make your way towards home, you’re sure he’s fallen asleep until you hear, “Y’know, y’er really pretty.”

You smile to yourself, keeping your eyes on the road. “Thanks, Colin. I think you’re pretty too.”

“Really???”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. Should’a called you for a date the day after all that happened.”

“It’s okay.”

“NO! No is’not. I ghosted you.”

“Colin, I don’t think it’s ghosting if the other person doesn’t reach out to you either.”

“It’s not?”

“Not really. Pretty sure that just ignoring each other.”

“Oh. Okay good. Well, not good we ignored each other. Good you didn’t think I ghosted you. Cuz I would NEVER do that to you.”

“Good to know.”

“And you won’t do that to me. I know you won’t. You’re too sweet. You wouldn’t break up with me two weeks before our wedding.”

Your heart sinks when he says this. Chancing a glance at him, you notice how sad his eyes are. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Colin, mostly because with the intensity of the case, the two of you haven’t had time to properly get to know each other. But his drunk words are way too specific to be a hypothetical scenario.

“Is that what happened to you?” you ask tentatively.

“Yup. Not sure how it happened. Or why. She just woke up and said, ‘hey, I’m not in love with you anymore’. And I’m like ‘s’ok, can I put my bagel down first?’…” he babbles, head rolling to the side so he can look at you. “Jus’ like that. Done. No more.”

You reach over to take his hand. “I’m sorry, Colin. That’s…that’s really shitty.”

“Isn’t it? I mean…I don’t know wha’ happened. But…whatareyou gonna do?” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his lips so he can place a sloppy kiss on your knuckles. “We’ve been driving for a loooong time.”

“It’s been five minutes.”

“Really?!”

“Just close your eyes. We’ll be there soon.”

“M’kay.”

Not long after, you pull into your driveaway, letting go of his hand so you can park the car and shut it off. You sit there for a minute, admiring his side profile as he lays there with his eyes closed. He is a handsome man. You can stare at him all day. Every time he greets you with that wide smile, your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a little flip-flop thing.

He must feel you staring because he opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile. “We there yet?”

You smile back. “Yeah, we’re here. Let’s get you inside.”

“Okaaay.”

With you guiding him and doing most of the work, you help Colin up the walkway to your place, pausing now and then when he sways and puts too much weight on you. Once inside, you dump him onto the couch before going back to lock your front door. Briefly, you pause to send Mare a text letting her know you’re both safe, before shutting your phone off and tossing it onto the counter. You shrug out of your coat and shoes before rejoining Colin in the living room where you left him.

“This is a nice place,” he says, sprawled out on the couch with his head nearly hanging off the armrest. “Looks homey.”

“If by homey you mean small, then yeah. It’s real homey. Come on. Sit up so we can get your coat off.”

“Tryin’a strip me down, you saucy minx,” he slurs, leaning forward as you try to pull the long coat off his arms. “I know your game and I accept.”

Laughing softly, you manage to wrestle him out of the coat before he flops backward. “No games tonight, Zabel.”

“Fine but at least a kiss?”

“That’s definitely not a good idea.”

“Jus’a lil one…come on, lil kiss…” he says in a soft voice, trying to lean in. “Jus’a peck. Lil smooch.”

Still laughing, you gently force him to lay back down. “Not while your drunk. Maybe in the morning if you’re feeling better we can have a little smooch.”

“Been thinking about kissin’ you for days,” he admits as you start to untie his shoes for him. “And picturing you on top of me. That was nice. I liked that. Let’s do that.”

You toss him a grin as you slide the shoe off his foot. “Like I said. Maybe…If you’re a good boy.”

His smile widens and he wags his eyebrows. “I’ll be’a good boy for you.”

After ridding him of his other shoe, you tuck a blanket around him. “Sleep it off, Colin. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t go,” he urges, grabbing your hand as you make a move to stand. “Not yet. Don’t go yet. It’s jus’…I wanna talk to you.”

“Okay. About what.”

“Everythin’. Anythin’. LIFE! Let’s talk about life.”

“It is way too late and you’re way too drunk to talk about life.”

“It’s just…the thing is…I’m getting to that age, right? I’m getting to that age where I’m starting to look at my life and I’m going…well, here’s what I thought it would be and…here’s what it actually is…” He throws his hands up with a sigh and a shrug, letting his thought hang there.

You’re all too familiar with that feeling. And yet, you have no idea how to respond. He’s not the only one looking at his life and wondering what the hell. There you are, living in the same town where you grew up, a detective in training living in a shitty, tiny apartment with neighbors who press their noses to the window every time you set outside. You haven’t had a relationship in years, mainly because you know every single guy in town and have grown up with them. The thought of dating and settling down with any of them does not appeal to you in the slightest. Never did. Not that that’s the only way to live your life but it’s something you would like to do someday. With the right person.

“Am I making any fucking sense?” he asks, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, yeah, you are.” You reach up to lay a hand on his cheek. “Get some rest, okay. I’ll be just in the other room if you need me.”

“Mmm, okay. Rest sounds good. Sleep good.”

He rolls onto his side, taking your hand with him and almost pulling you across his body. You manage to wiggle free with a chuckle. By the time you get up to shut off the living room light, he’s already snoring.

You have too many questions and not enough answers. This man, this big hero detective that is supposed to help solve the case seems just as lost and alone as you feel. You wonder if that’s why you were drawn together. Two lost, lonely souls who found each other among such darkness.

Too tired to go down that train of thought, you slip away to your room, wondering just how much Colin will remember in the morning.

#colin zabel #evan peters #mare of easttown spoilers #love exists

198 notes · View notes

fantasy2739 · 3 years

Note

Prompt idea: Jamie and a woman he has a one night stand with have a pregnancy scare. He's really worried about being a bad father (the sad part), so he insists on taking care of one of those RealCare baby dolls that cry and hijinks ensue (the funny part).

Okay so I had to google what a RealCare baby is because we don’t really use them where I am (or we do and I’ve just never seen one). So the accuracy is definitely a no.

Jamie stares at Amy like she’s grown a second head.

“You’re what?” He croaks. She purses her lips.

“I said, I might be pregnant.” She repeats. They’re sat in Jamie’s house, which he is eternally grateful for because he’s pretty sure he almost spat juice everywhere. “My periods late and my stomach has been feeling shitty.” Jamie cringes a little at that because what the fuck is he supposed to say.

“But we used a condom.” He says, it’s almost a whine. Amy sighs.

“They’re only so effective.” She says.

“And you’re not like, on the pill?” He asks, wary that he might be crossing some line. Amy shakes her head and Jamie nods, because fair enough. “What do we do then?” Amy considers it for a moment.

“I’m gonna get one of those fancy tests that tells you early and then we’ll go from there.” She says. The look she gives him is almost pitying. “I just wanted to let you know, cause there isn’t really anyone else I can tell.” Jamie nods and insists that he pay for the test. Amy smiles at him and tells him she’ll text him. Jamie sees her out and goes to curl up on the sofa. He’s mulling over what happens if Amy is actually pregnant. Do they keep the baby? Do they not? He can’t force Amy to do either. He wraps his arm around a cushion and stares at the wall.

He’d be a shit dad.

Well no, maybe not. He doesn’t actually know. But then he doesn’t have the best idea of being a dad. His dad is a piece of shit. What if they keep the baby and he’s shit with them? What if they don’t like him?

What if he hurts them?

Jamie grips the cushion tighter. He’s terrified. He’s breathing faster and he’s scared of this child that may not even be a thing. How the fuck is he supposed to be a parent if he’s freaking out over the idea of one? He spends the next couples of days pacing back and forth, mulling it all over in his mind.

He’d hurt his kid.

He doesn’t want to be like his father.

He hopes he’s like his mum.

He doesn’t know if he can break the cycle.

Amy’s text is a blessing.

‘Hi Jamie, I took two tests to be sure, both negative! Thanks Amy X.’

Jamie feels so relieved he nearly cries. He’s been teetering on the edge of uncertainty for too long. He shakes it off, sends Amy a quick thanks, and tries to forget.

Except he can’t.

Now that he’s thought he could be having a kid he’s almost desperate to prove he wouldn’t be shit. Or at least he’d like to know. So after an hour of googling he ends up order a fucking RealCare baby. He’s never regretted a purchase so quickly. But it’s too late now. He needs to know.

Okay so maybe he shouldn’t have turned up to Richmond with the fucking baby but he’s supposed to treat it like an actual baby.

“Why the fuck do you have a fake baby?” Roy asks like Jamie has just personally caused every problem Roy has ever had. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, so he shrugs and puts the baby, who he’s named Babs, on the bench. “Jamie, seriously what the fuck?”

“It is cute.” Sam says. “But also very creepy.” Isaac is moving from side to side.

“It’s eyes are like following me.” He says. Ted comes out to see what the commotion is about and he sees Babs.

“Well who’s this little cutie?” He asks. Jamie smirks.

“Babs.” He says. “It’s one of them RealCare baby things.” Ted is all smiles.

“Reminds me of high school, take a bag of flour home, treat it like a baby.” He says. He pauses and looks at Jamie with wide eyes. “You’re having a baby?” Jamie shakes his head.

“Had a… scare.” He admits. “Wanted to try it out.” There’s silence and then.

“So have you brought lots of clothes?”

“Let me hold the baby.”

“Does it cry all the time?”

“Do you have to feed it and shit?”

“Can I be the fun uncle?” Jamie blinks a few times and smirks.

“I want Babs to have good role models. So none of you fucks.” He says. “Except maybe Ted and maybe Sam.” Sam grins. “Roy you can be Babs’ great grandad since you’re fucking old enough.” Roy growls but there’s a softness in his eyes. Jamie picks Babs up and cradles her gently. He steps towards Ted, who has his arms ready in a second.

“Cute as a button.” Ted says as he holds her.

“Takes after her mum then.” Bumbercatch jokes. Jamie sticks his tongue out at him.

“Oh hush now.” Ted says. “I think it’s real great you’re doing this Jamie.” Jamie shrugs and takes Babs back. He crooks his arms around her and cradles her. He makes a cooing face. There’s a flash and someone has definitely snapped a picture. Jamie flips them off and goes back to his baby. Some of the team are leaning off his shoulder.

“Oi, we still have training to do.” Roy reminds them.

“We can’t leave her in the locker room.” Colin says. “She’ll get hurt.” There’s murmurs of agreement.

“Fucking fine, I’ll hold her while you all practice.” Roy caves. Jamie smirks.

“Here Babs, say hello to your great grandad.” He says, carefully handing her over. Roy takes her and it must be a trick of the light because he almost looks sweet. “Be good yeah, he’s too old to do things quickly.” Roy glares but cuddles Babs close. They go out and practice. When Dani scored he runs over to Babs and holds her up.

“That one of for you chiquita mia.” He says. Roy’s rolling his eyes but Jamie thinks it’s great. Babs has a special place in all their hearts

The next day he turns up sleep deprived but oddly pleased. Babs had cried all night. Jamie had tried everything he could think of; changing, feeding, holding. He had been annoyed but he’d also been scared. He was so worried about what might be wrong with Babs and he just wanted to make it better. Sitting up on his bedroom floor, cradling Babs gently to his chest he realised he hadn’t once thought about yelling at her or hitting her. So he was smiling as he strolled in. He was met by an avalanche of people.

“Look, we got Babs her own little kit!” Issac said, thrusting a bag at Jamie.

“I made her something.” Bumbercatch says, holding out a beautiful red and blue scarf. Jamie smiles widely, it’s all very sweet. Sam comes forward with a little blanket that he wraps around Babs. There’s a little noise of contentment and the room aw’s

“I just want to check, we do know that it’s a fake baby?” Nate asks, almost timidly. They all look at him. “Right, okay, yep, Babs is adorable Jamie.” Jamie rocks her slightly and they’re rewarded with more cute noises.

“You look tired.” Jan says, blunt as ever.

“Fatherhood, keeps you on your toes.” Jamie says with a shrug. The day dissolves into different teammates stealing Babs to play. Jamie catches Colin and Issac gently cooing over her in the boot room. Bumbercatch wraps her in her scarf and takes a million photos. Zoreaux and Dani run around with her, showing her Richmond like it’s a fucking museum. Even Jan caves and hugs her close for twenty minutes, telling everyone it’s comforting.

Babs stays with Jamie for another week. Despite how tired he is at the end of it he knows he’ll do anything for his kid. He’s not ready to be a dad yet, way too busy. But it’s reassuring to know he won’t be completely shit.

And he knows the team will be there, every step of the way.

#fanfiction #ted lasso tv #ted lasso #jamie tartt #realcare baby #pregnancy #pregnancy scare #sam obisanya #Colin Hughes #isaac mcadoo #jan maas #thierry zoreaux #Roy Kent #this is a team of himbos #it takes a village #fear of being a parent

73 notes · View notes

marvelatthetwilight · 3 years

Text

Love you more

Feeling in a giving mood so you’ve got two parts posted together! - Addie ♥️

Love you anymore

I think I love you

“I just don’t understand why I’m sitting out here, in the cold. Where is Paul? What’s going on Jared?” Just as Jared is about to speak, Sam appears from the path.

“We had a few issues in the kitchen, so there’s been a change of plans, we’re just going to hang out here until we can get everything ready. How’s your day been Y/N?” Sam attempts to distract Y/N from her suspicions as he catches a glimpse of Kim at the door, giving him the thumbs up.

Y/N doesn’t let go of her suspicions, but she’s excited to talk to her friend about her job, and she chats away about the strange incidents she had helped with that week. She was most fascinated by the different reports of larger than life wolves in the forest, and she shared her suspicions with the group about what kind of animal it must be.

The pack exchange glances, and Jared smirks, about to share his own insight, when Embry returns up the path to let Sam know the animal problem had been dealt with. “Some tourist had let their huge dog off its leash and it ran away, it’s reunited now though so we are back on track!”

“Great, Y/N, let’s head down to the beach now.” Jared says excitedly as he grabs Y/N’s hand and pulls her up from her seated position on the floor.

“I’m assuming the answer is no I can’t go and see Emily and Kim first?” She whispers to Jared, who laughs and shakes his head.

“This will be worth it, I promise.”

Jared holds out his arm to Y/N and they link, walking towards the path, sharing suspicions about the strange animals.

As they near the bottom of the path, Y/N can hear soft music, an acoustic version of her favourite song playing from a small speaker tucked under a tree.

She looks ahead and can see a low table set up on the sand, surrounded by candles, with Paul sat next to it, dressed in a smart shirt and tie.

Y/N’s face flushes, no one had ever done anything like this for her before. She thought carefully, realising that really she hadn’t understood true romance until she met Paul. He made her feel like the most precious person in the world, she felt special, she felt cared for, respected, and loved. Jared squeezes her arm and then turns around, running back up the path, leaving her to walk to Paul on her own, her heart hammering in her chest.

She takes the opportunity to take him in, admiring his face, his eyes gleaming, his gorgeous smile lingering on his cheeks. Oh I love him Y/N thought to herself. There was something about Paul that just drew her to him, and every new piece of information she found out about him just made her love him more, though she hadn’t realised that till that moment. Neither of them had said this to each other yet, and considering they weren’t even officially dating Y/N decided to keep this piece of information to herself, for the moment at least.

Y/N reaches the table and Paul stands up to hug her, pulling her in close, taking in her scent to calm his nerves. This was the moment where he would explain what Y/N really meant to him and he had been planning it all week. Kim and Emily helped him with the logistics of getting her here and making it romantic, but the words were all down to him.

Paul takes a deep breath, letting her scent fill his nostrils and calmness flow through his body. His anxiety and stress had been through the roof all day, so when things had gone wrong he couldn’t stop himself from phasing, he needed to keep calm in this moment, the last thing he wanted to do was phase in front of Y/N and scare her away.

As they pull apart from the hug, Y/N stands on her tip toes to place a quick kiss on Paul’s lips. “I missed you.” She says softly, “where have you been? Everyone’s been really weird with me since I got here.”

Paul rubs the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath, takes Y/N’s hand and gestures to sit down. “From the moment I met you I fell...”

“First course is served!” Seth shouts as he and Colin come bounding down the path carrying plates.

“Seth! Not yet!” Paul says with his teeth clenched and the two younger pack members come to a stop at the table.

“Oh erm, Emily told us to bring them now, should we go back? It’ll probably get cold if we do that...” Seth shrinks back when he sees Paul’s glare directed at him.

“We will go back, Emily can just make new food! It’s fine, everything is fine!” Seth spins on the spot, heading back up the path, but when Colin tries to do the same he loses his footing and drops the plate, food landing in Y/N’s lap.

“Colin!!!” Paul growls, his face flushing and breathing deepening.

“Er, Y/N you need to move. Now.” Seth shouts as he bounds over to Y/N and grabs her arm. This only angers Paul more. Before Seth has the chance to help Y/N leave the beach, Paul is replaced by a massive, dark silver wolf, crouched and ready to spring.

“Get back Y/N, Colin, get her.” Seth instructs as he moves away and phases, a sandy coloured wolf, significantly smaller than Paul’s standing in his place instead.

Y/N doesn’t have a chance to process what has happened in front of her before more wolves appear and Colin drags her up the path to Emily’s house whilst Paul is distracted.

Over two hours passes of Y/N sitting in shock at the dining table in Emily’s house. Jacob, Emily and Quil try to calm her down, making her eat and drink, before she’s finally in a position to talk, and ask questions.

After an hour, Sam returns, and attempts to answer as many of Y/N’s questions as possible knowing that this wasn’t the way Paul wanted things to go so trying to calm Y/N as best he could.

“So where is he now? Is he ok?” Y/N asks after a few minutes of silence. She had run out of questions at this point, still trying to process, but realising that it didn’t matter, it didn’t change how she felt.

Sam smiles at this, knowing now that the imprint bond was in full force.

“He’s ok, Jared took him out to run and calm down. He should be back soon, hopefully.” Y/N nods at this, taking a sip of the coffee in front of her.

At that moment Embry, Quil and Seth come bounding in, smiles on their faces, indicating that all was back to normal.

Jared follows them in, moving to Kim and placing a kiss on her cheek before wrapping his arms around her. Y/N smiles at the interaction, and her heart lines for Paul.

Lastly, a rather sheepish looking Paul steps through the door, eyes immediately searching for Y/N, worrying that she had left. When he sees her his face breaks out into a huge grin, and Y/N returns it, standing up from her seat and moving towards him slowly, worried that too much movement could spook him.

Paul holds out his hand and they walk together back towards the beach.

“Y/N I..,” Paul starts before Y/N interrupts.

“I know Paul. Sam explained a lot of it. But...it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Paul smiles his cheeky smile, “how do you feel about me?”

“I love you Paul.”

They stop walking and Paul turns to face her, cupping her face with his hands.

“I love you too Y/N.”

“I know, but I love you more.”

Taglist:

@fatiguing-thoughts @clearwater-hoe @volturidoll13 @like-rain-or-confetti @teampaul @wallwriterstuff @awesomebooklover17 @cncogirl18 @megzdoodle @moviequeen51 @evakipara

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #embry call #sam uley #twilight imagine #seth clearwater #jared cameron #wolfpack

233 notes · View notes

arrowflier · 3 years

Note

A fic prompt if you'd like: Mickey opening up to Ian about details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. In 11x06 after Terry is brought home Mickey says he could do anything to him now like "piss on him and let him air dry" and "use his mouth as an ash tray". To me it sounds like those are examples of things that Terry has done to him.

Content warning: child abuse

the things he did

“You’re so much better than that.”

Ian’s words echoed in Mickey’s head while the cooked dinner together. They resonated as they sat side by side at the table to eat, shoulders brushing, rings glinting in the harsh lights of the kitchen. They played on loop as they retired to the living room, alone for once with everyone else out for the night who knew where, sitting close on the sofa as mindless sitcoms droned on from the television.

“What if I’m not?” Mickey asked abruptly, when it got to be too much.

Ian turned to look at him, face full of shadows in the blue light from the tv.

“What if you’re not what?” he questioned, confused, and Mickey shifted away from him, bringing a knee onto the sofa between them to face his husband.

“Not better than that,” he answered, and saw Ian realize what he was talking about. It was in the way his eyes softened in that harsh light, the way his lips turned down at the thought that Mickey might question himself.

He always took it personally when Mickey did that.

“You are, Mickey,” Ian reassured instantly, just as expected. “I know you are.”

Mickey shook his head, looking down. His fingers scratched at the label of his beer, tearing it from the condensation-wet bottle.

“You don’t,” he said quietly. “No one fucking does.” He shook his head, looked up again into Ian’s green eyes. “You don’t just come away from a life like that and turn out alright.”

Ian looked like he wanted to argue. His chin was already pushing out, his lips pressed tight and thin.

Mickey didn’t give him a chance.

“If you knew half the things he did to us, man,” Mickey laughed humorlessly, averting his gaze again. “He should be on death row right now, not sitting next door with a roof over his fuckin’ head.”

“Tell me,” Ian prompted softly, but Mickey shook his head.

“You don’t want to hear this shit, Ian.” At least, Mickey didn’t want him to hear it. Didn’t want him to think of Terry when he looked at Mickey’s face.

“I do though,” Ian countered easily. “Wanna know everything about you, Mick.”

He was always saying things like that. Always trying to challenge the barriers Mickey put up.

But Mickey always challenged his, too, so he supposed that it was a fair enough trade.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey said anyway, glancing up at Ian’s face and down again. “Gonna change what you think of me,” he added more quietly, and bit his lip at how pathetic it made him sound.

“Mickey,” Ian said. That was it, just his name. But it made things better, somehow. “Nothing can change how I feel about you,” Ian went on. “Besides, I was there for some it, remember?”

Mickey snorted, and took a swig of beer.

“How could I fuckin’ forget?”

They sat in silence for a long moment, only the sound of the clock ticking behind them and the strains of an annoying jingle on the TV filling the room. Ian didn’t scoot any closer, didn’t ask Mickey again. He just sat in his presence, calming sipping his own drink, and waited Mickey out.

It was a technique that never failed him.

“It wasn’t too bad when our mom was there,” Mickey started out of nowhere. “She was strung out most of the time, but she cared, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, scratched his neck. “At least in her own way.”

“And when she wasn’t?” Ian prompted gently. Not pushing, just providing a guiding hand.

Mickey shook his head. “When she wasn’t, things really went to hell.”

A beat. The TV had changed over to some new infomercial, an obnoxiously eager voice droning on about the ‘next best thing’, whatever that was. Mickey ignored it. They both did.

“Iggy and Colin were already used to it, I think,” Mickey expanded. “They were around more the first few times she left, when Mandy and I were still in school. They knew what was coming when she was gone for good.”

Ian made a sound, deep in his throat. He set down his glass on the coffee table, overlapping the multitude of condensation rings that already marred the surface, and grabbed up the carton of cigarettes that lay there. He lit it with a spare lighter, took a drag, and passed it over to Mickey’s waiting hand.

“What about you?” he asked casually. Too casually for the way his fingers shook when Mickey took the cigarette from him.

Mickey scoffed. “Me?” he repeated, then took a drag himself. He held it in as long as he could, breathed it out in a plume of smoke that hid the new wetness in his eyes.

“I was a naive little shit whose mamma hadn’t warned him how bad Terry could get,” Mickey said, then took another hit.

“The first time he hit me—really hit me, not just a cuff around the ears for mouthing off—he laid me out flat on the kitchen floor. I had eaten the last side of bacon, see,” he explained. “Mandy made it for me after school. And Terry’d been savin’ it for after whatever run he was out on.”

Ian stayed silent.

“Couldn’t tell him it was Mandy’s fault,” Mickey went on. “He didn’t care that she was a girl.” Mickey flicked the ashes off the end of the cigarette, watched them fall. Watched the tiny burns it made on the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t care until she was useful.”

Ian swallowed hard at the reminder of what Terry had done to his best friend. But this was about Mickey right now, not Mandy, and as much as she was entrenched in that part of his life, it wasn’t what he needed to get out.

So Ian scooted closer, brushed ashes off Mickey’s knee and rested his hand there, waiting.

Mickey stared at the point of contact, then at his cigarette again.

“You know he used to burn me with these?” Mickey asked abruptly, waving the lit stick in his hand. “Think it was an accident, the first time. Caught me suckin’ on a candy one when I was a kid, told me I needed to man up. Tried to stick a lit one in my mouth, but he was drunk. Used the wrong end.”

He tongued the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t eat for two days while it was healin’.” He chuckled, shook his head. “I was suck a fuckin’ wimp back then, man.”

“Not the worst thing he’s put in my mouth, though,” Mickey continued, on a roll now. His voice was faint, full of that absent quality it got when he wasn’t really there. When he was reliving his nightmares in real time.

“Stumbled into my room more than once looking for the toilet,” he confided. “Forgot there was a second door, I think. He usually just went in the corner, but he got me on my bed more than once.”

Mickey paused, looked up at Ian through his lashes.

“You know why I don’t breathe through my mouth anymore?”

Ian shook his head.

“Wakin’ up to the taste of piss will teach you that trick real quick.”

The cigarette was gone, now, and his beer was only dregs. Mickey stared at a space over Ian’s shoulder, breathing heavy, refusing to let his eyes spill over.

He was done crying for the kid that let his dad walk all over him. He was done crying for Terry. He was done with all of it.

And he really, really wished that were true.

“Frank locked me in the basement, once,” Ian stated suddenly, taking the empty beer bottle out of Mickey’s hand and placing it with his own glass on the table. “During one of my mom’s episodes, when she wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Mickey just looked at him. Let Ian take his hand, turn it over to hold it in his.

“He told Fiona I was at a sleepover, and she believed him—forgot I didn’t really have any friends.” Ian grinned, then, but it was empty, almost sharp.

You had friends, Mickey wanted to say. You had family. You had me.

But the first and the last were lies, and the middle wasn’t always a blessing.

“Lip found me two days later,” Ian told him. “He got suspicious when he saw Frank taking food down there; he was an asshole, but he wasn’t gonna starve a kid on purpose, at least.”

Ian laughed, and rubbed his free hand along the leg of his pants.

“He just didn’t want to look at me.”

Mickey gripped his hand tighter.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” he asked. “It’s not a fuckin’ competition, man.”

“I’m just saying,” Ian pressed on. “We don’t have to be our dads, Mickey.”

Oh. And there it was. Ian, his husband, ever the optimist.

“What if we don’t get that choice?” Mickey questioned. He’d seen it often enough, after all. Milkoviches that tried to get out, tried to do better for themselves and their kids.

But they always ended up back where they started. They always ended up under Terry’s roof, and under his thumb, just waiting for another chance to break free.

Ian shrugged, and pulled him closer, tucking Mickey’s head into the space between his own neck and shoulder. Mickey made a grumbling sound, but went without protest, tilting his head so that his nose rested near Ian’s collarbone.

“Then I guess we have to kill each other,” Ian stated blandly.

Mickey gave a stunned, barked laugh, breath hitching and releasing in a wash of hot air over Ian’s neck.

“Ian, what the fuck?” he managed, but Ian only gripped him tighter, pressing his face into skin so that he couldn’t speak.

“It’s for the greater good, Mick,” Ian assured him. “Mutually assured destruction, and all that, right?”

He ran a hand down Mickey’s back, scratching lightly.

“I lock you in a basement, you take me out,” he declared. “You piss on me—well, without my permission at least—”

“Ew, Ian, Jesus Christ—”

“I get to murder you in your sleep.” Ian pulled back just enough to look at him, Mickey meeting his eyes without a struggle this time. For all the macabre discussions, Ian’s eyes were bright.

“Deal?” Ian asked, and Mickey finally smiled.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy,” he agreed. “It’s a fuckin’ deal.”

#thanks for the prompt!#daily speedwrite #fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #tw: child abuse #angst #but they'll be okay

103 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 29

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+, underage DNI)

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky held the old phone against his ear as he waited for Natasha to pass the line onto Steve, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Once again, there were no news coming from them. There’s not enough evidence for us to even make a guess, he’d tell him every time he called the super soldier. It did not matter how many hours he spent on the phone, a team of synthesoids, witches, spies and super soldiers couldn’t bring upon themselves to figure out who was threatening his girlfriend. His mind couldn’t stop going to the worse places. If he didn’t figure it out, who would?

- Buck, we can go through the record off people who got into her building but do we even know if it’s the same person?

- It has to be, Steve. Go through the records, check for anyone who isn’t from the building.

- Have you asked Y/N who she thinks might be?

- No, I didn’t tell her. - he gulped. - I promised her she’d be safe. I’m not gonna tell her.

- That is a ter ... - the line broke down and before he could call out for Steve’s name again, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him.

- When were you gonna tell me? - she held up the letter in front of his face and he swore all the colour drained from his face. - Bucky, when were you gonna tell me? How long have you known? Where did this come from?

Bucky dropped the phone to the holder, visibly gulping at the sight of his girlfriend holding the letter he had sworn not to let her see. However, except of seeing the fear she had displayed the first time it happened, she was upset, mad even with that hidden type of serene look which he was sure would scare any army. She put the letter on the table, crossing her arms at him.

- It came yesterday. I don’t know if it actually arrived yesterday but that’s when I got it from the post box.

- Why didn’t you tell me? - she sighed looking down at her feet, one hand holding her weight on the table. Bucky’s jaw locked, eyes moving from side to side before he wrapped his hand around her forearm and led her into the bedroom. Last thing he needed was for her whole family to know not only was he terrible at his job, he was also terrible at being her boyfriend. First fight in her parents’ home ... you can’t fuck up any further Barnes. - James, I’m not toying around.

- I thought it wasn’t important. - he lied.

- They found my family home, James. It is important and you hid it from me. Why did you even open my mail?

- I hoped to be able to find who did it before I told you. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. - he put his hands in his pocket. She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest.

- Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me? You ... Do you ... You agree with they called me? - she frowned, her own anger replaced by her own insecurities. Bucky blinked slowly as if he was processing what she had said, not believing the words which had came out of her mouth. - I ... I didn’t mean to be too forward, I jus ...

- No. No, no, no, no ... - he walked so fast he was almost running, holding her by her arms. - No. I don’t agree with them, I would never agree with it.

- Then ... are you really not in the mood and I just made a complete idiot of myself?

- I don’t, no, I just feel like I failed you, failed my job. - he cupped her face in his hands, trying to find her gaze but she refused to look at him. - I don’t want to fail you, everyone but you. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought that you’d feel safer if you didn’t know.

- So you thought keeping me in my own delusion was the best thing to do?

- I’m sorry. - he leaned his forehead against hers. She looked up, into his baby blue eyes as her hand hoovered over his arm. - I didn’t want ... I didn’t mean to delude you.

- You didn’t fail me. - she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it before leaning her face against it. - It is not your fault that letter came in.

- But I should know who it was ... or at least Steve should. He’s proving himself to be quite useless ... - he grumbled on, which made her hold in her laughter by biting the inside of her lip. - I’m sorry, dollface. I really am.

- If you ever kiss my head when I’m trying to kiss you ever again, we will have severe problems. - she pointed her finger jokingly at him.

- Heard it loud and clear, princess. - he pulled her arm so she was chest to chest with him as if they were about to dance. - Just so we’re clear, I do not agree with those letters.

- Please don’t hide things from me. - her ring finger traced his cheekbone softly. - I can’t stand it from everyone but I personally can’t stand it coming from you. You’re the only one in my corner.

- I’ll always be in your corner but I will want to protect you and I will sometimes do something stupid.

- Why do something stupid when you could do me? - she looked at him with that little shy grin which was just always so endearing to him. Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, broken by him merely to look at her pout.

- You’re getting frisky, princess?

- Well, you did lose your chance to see what’s under my robe. - her fingers slightly rose the hem of her robe to show a bit of her lace garter before dropping it to grab her dress. - But I do need to grab some takeaway.

- I’m going with you. - he followed into her own ensuite bathroom, but she stopped him, holding the door edge in her hand. - You were going to show it to me anyway.

- Next time don’t hide stuff from me. - she smiled before locking the door leaving him alone while she got dressed in a jumper like dress. Bucky leaned his forehead against the door, his mind going haywire as the minute she was gone he immediately started thinking of how he hadn’t found who was sending those letters. How come no one had figured it out? Surely whoever had done it couldn’t be that good at covering their tracks unless they were a professional. Y/N exited the bathroom in her jumper dress and put her hands on the nape of his neck. Bucky took that opportunity to rise up the hem of her dress, watching the soft white stocking reach its end where it connected to her garter. - No, Bucky. No.

- When did you have this? I’ve never seen you wear it before. - he tried to pull it upwards a bit more but she stopped him by merely wrapping her hand around his wrist. - Did you buy it for me, princess?

- Oh no, I wore this when I was 20. In front a 150 people audience.

- What? - he looked as confused as the day someone explained what the internet was to him. - Someone else has seen it? Why can’t I see it?

- Because you’re not in the mood. - she walked away to grab her coat and her scarf. - Are you coming?

- Oh, in more ways then one, princess. - he too grabbed his jacket, following her down the stairs.

He held her hand as they stepped outside, going into a mode he wasn’t used to going into very often. Everything and everyone was suspicious to him and at any moment, he felt like he was ready to kill someone with only a snap of his fingers. Bucky wanted that and at the same time he didn’t want it. It was a hard duality, that of wanting to defend her at all costs and ensure she was the happiest and that of wanting to just bask into how it felt to be hers, because, god, did it felt god to be hers. It was like waking up in spring mornings and all his mistakes seemed to fade whenever she smiled, the way her nose scrunched up and she hide her mouth with her hands, saying her smile was much to ugly for him to see it. Of course she was lying, her smile was the cutest thing. Yet, he wanted her safe, he wanted her to be endlessly happy. He could never get rid of his demons, of what they had done to him, but he could make sure no one hurt her, no one treated her like a commodity because she was everything but that.

- Claire said Aunt Petunia corned you about babies. - she spoke out as they waited on the line. - I’m sorry, I keep telling her not to but I think she’s in competition with her friend about it.

- It’s okay. - he chuckled. - Do you want one?

- Baby?

- Yeah, do you want a kid someday?

- I do but only one. I think my mum and dad lost a pound of hair each time me and my siblings bickered. Besides, Colin almost made me believe you were cheating on me.

- What?

- Yeah. I was desperate, I called Chuck for help. Chuck. Also, I think he’s dating.

- Circling back to the baby question ... would you consider a baby, maybe you and me have one, someday?

- You want to have a baby with me? - she peered up from looking at her shoes to look at him. Bucky immediately regretted the question, she was young and probably not thinking about kids. - Buck?

- Forget it.

- No, Bucky. I didn’t mean it like that ... I just thought you wouldn’t want to have kids.

- I don’t know. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I mean, I don’t really have much family left and I’d like to think, maybe someday, we could have our own.

- Bucky ...

- I’m freaking you out.

- No. I’ve thought about it too, buying a house, having a baby, but ... everything I do is controlled and scheduled and tight lipped so I tend not to day dream about it.

- Hey ... - he hooked his arm under her waist, pulling her close to him. - You still have agency and besides, I’m really good at going undercover if you need to.

- You always know what to say.

- That’s because you’re predictable, princess.

- I am not. - she retorted, pouting as she crossed her arms.

- Yes, you are, princess.

- Really? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, before standing on her tip toes to whisper against his hear. - I’m not wearing any underwear.

- What? - he blushed as Y/N smiled before stepping forward to collect the takeaway bags from the customer assistant. Bucky cleared his throat as the two of them walked outside. - I thought you had something to show me.

- I did but then I realised it is really uncomfortable to be in that lingerie, so I took it off.

Bucky felt most of his blood travelled south as he looked up and down her body. Damn it, suddenly her home felt so far away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but stare at her body as they walked down the street, the way her dress draped over what he now knew was her naked body. Part of him felt jealous that she was in such a state in front of everyone else but the other part, the most overwhelming one, wanted to push her into an alley and take her right there and then and maybe he would’ve done so if he hadn’t seen a few paparazzi trying to appear invisible. He put himself on her left, mostly covering her, wrapping his hand around hers as he picked up the pace to get to her place. Once again he stood behind her as she opened her door, so close her could smell her daisy perfume and if he were a bit younger and lacked self control, he would’ve drowned her neck in hickeys. However, he thought seeing himself display some strong PDA with his girlfriend on the next morning’s paper. She took her jacket off, hanging it on the hooks by the door.

- We’re going. - he whispered against her ear as she placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend her right to have the yummy food she had just bought but Bucky gave her no chance to do so, instead holstering her upon his shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

Y/N waved at her younger brother who stopped in his tracks as Bucky passed through him and straight into her bedroom. Before she could protest once more, he laid her on her own bedroom, climbing on top of her and started to kiss her neck which replaced the half done protests with small moans. His hand slide up her left to her tight, rising the dress in the process and sure enough, she had not been lying about not wearing any underwear. Other than the garter which held up the sheer white stockings, she was a bare as the day she was born. Bucky took a moment to appreciate it, the bare woman laid on the bed under him, looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

- I must say, princess. Whatever you had to show me can’t be better than this.

- Maybe my food downstairs is better.

- You’re not walking down any stairs anytime soon, after I’m done with you. - he leaned down to kiss her, a harsh full of need kiss as if he hadn’t seen her in decades.

She smiled through the kiss, hands held over his neck as he placed kisses and sucked her skin in places she was sure to get a hickey the next day, but it didn’t matter. In all honesty, nothing really mattered when he kissed her. Y/N held her hands up as he took off the dress and basked in her nakedness. Screw all the women he had ever slept with, no one compared to her. It didn’t have to do with beauty or even seduction. She was just her, just herself in her own naked glory standing under him, eyes shining with a naive like lust as she awaited his next movement. Bucky should’ve done something else but he decided just to kiss her, fingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

- What is it? - she asked as he interrupted the kiss once more.

- You are the most wonderful thing in my life, Y/N. - he kissed her once more, one hand coming to remove his own trousers.

Her lips stretched into a small smile as she rose her forehead to press it against his. She mumbled a small I love you, kissing the side of his lips as he pushed his cock into her. Her lips stretched into a gasp as he grunted once he shed himself completely inside her, eyes closed as he let the feeling of being inside of her take complete hold of him. She continued mid gasp, not a single thought forming inside her mind rather than how good he felt, how full she was.

Bucky opened his eyes, baby blues almost navy coloured as his hand pushed some of her hair away from her face, kissing her to silence her little gaps and moans which came out in such meek tones, it made him even hard just from listening to them. The kiss was forceful, his lips swallowing all her sounds as he slowly circled his hips against hers, one hand holding the side of her hips with a vice like grip. He pushed his hips back, removing himself from her only to thrust back into her, establishing a slow and delayed pace, grip strong enough to leave a bruise the next day. She whined, nails dug into the fabric of the sleeveless tank top he had not taken off.

- Bucky, please ... - she pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. - Faster.

- No, princess. You’ve been so bad lately ... what should I do with you? - he stopped moving, stilling inside of her.

- Move? Please?

- Giving me handjobs in a plane, pouting when you don’t get attention, walking around without underwear. That’s not good girl behaviour.

- Bucky ... - she tried to rock her hips against his but he stopped her, hand firmly pressing her against the mattress. - Bucky, please.

- I don’t know, princess. - he leaned into the crook of her neck, playfully bitting her sensitive skin, before kissing it and doing it again. - You look so pretty when you’re begging for my cock. I almost want to see it more. Maybe leave you like this all night, what about that?

- Please, Bucky. Please. - a tears rolled down her cheek as she tried once again to rock her hips against his into a pointless effort. - Please, please, I need it.

- I know. You got so upset when I didn’t fuck you last night, dollface. - he moved out and into her in a long, slow motion, earning more moans from her. - You’re just becoming so needy for me, princess.

- Please. - she pouted, raising up to kiss him, her hands moving up to try and take off his shirt but he refused, shutting her actions by starting to relentlessly thrust in and out of her as if he had been possessed by mere lust. Y/N threw her head back as his hand grabbed her breast harshly and he continued to relentlessly fuck her.

Her legs trembled as he went back to paying attention to her neck and jaw, the mix of all the emotions chasing her high. She whined, trying to deal with all she was feeling from his lips against her neck, his hand massaging her breast and flicking her nipple every once in a while as well as his cock veins against the walls of her channel. She managed to open her eyes for a few seconds and swore she could cum merely at the sight of him as he moved away from her neck to thrust faster into her, head thrown back, pink reddish lips opened in a circle, sweat forming in hairline. She had done that, she had gotten him to look so lost in pleasure and that was as stimulating as something could get.

His hand left her breast to start circling her clit, slowly and painful, a harsh contrast with the fast pace. Her own hand replaced the place that had once been occupied by his hand on her breast, biting her lip as he continued with his motions. Bucky did not stop until she reached her orgasm, the tight feeling in her lower stomach exploding into a particular high pitch moan which he silenced by kissing her, reminding her her parents were still downstairs after all. He didn’t take long to reach his own orgasm either, continuing to thrust quickly into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. The orgasm weakened his hold over her for a few seconds, leading to him collapsing to her side, pushing her along with him. Bucky slipped out of her, reaching up to kiss her lips followed by a small kiss to her nose.

- Hi. - she said shyly, cuddling against his chest as he pushed a cover over her body. - No more secrets, promise me.

- I can’t promise that. I can promise that whatever I do, I do it because I love you and I want you safe.

- Buck.

- I will try. - he kissed her forehead. - Good?

- Good.

She remained in his arms, cuddling against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly against his ribcage. It felt good, it felt good to feel loved, to hear the heartbeat of someone who loved her, someone who existed, someone who she had only dreamed about and now existed in real life and loved her. The two watched the old clock on her table turn to midnight. Christmas day. She looked up to him, extending to give him a quick kiss.

- Merry Christmas, love.

- Merry Christmas, princess. - he kissed her nose.

- I thought we could trade presents between us. Make it special.

- Me first. - he said and before she could ever argue, he was rolling out of bed with a small blanket covering his nudity to grab a present wrapped in festive wrapping paper with her name written on it. He sat on the bed, next to her, pushing the duvet to cover her so she wouldn’t be cold. - I hope you like it.

- I’m sure I will. - Y/N smiled at him before proceeding to unwrap her present. It was a book and one she recognised very well from seeing pictures on Google whenever she looked around jokingly for first editions on Ebay. - Buck, it’s too much. I can’t.

- It’s mine. Well, it used to be mine but now it’s yours.

- How do you even know I like the Hobbit?

- Chuck told me.

- You and Chuck talk? - she giggled, unable to picture her best friend having a conversation with Bucky who was always brooding.

- We don’t but whenever we’re on set, he just keeps talking. He said you liked it, so I thought it would be fun if you had the one I read when I was what? About your age?

- Oh okay, grampa. - she poked his chest jokingly before handing him his present.

Bucky kissed the side of her temple, opening the package to see an album like photo with his name written in gold. He gave her a confused look but she merely nodded her head, telling him to open the book. Once he did, he saw “All the times Bucky Barnes was a hero” written in her handwriting followed by pages and pages of articles calling him a hero, the saviour of the day and other words he did not equalise with himself.

- I know you don’t believe you’re a good man but I do and it’s not just me who thinks it. There has been darkness in your life but the way you continued onwards, doing good to the world which hurt you ... that’s noble. - he heard her voice almost in a echo like fashion as he moved page after page. It did not only ranged from his time in the Howling Commandos but even til now, with recent missions and facts. Everything was there, different journal cut outs, different testimonies. Everything.

Bucky looked to his side, looked at her who was smiling at the book in his hand which she had put together and he knew. He just knew.

- Y/N?

- Hm?

- Marry me.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

191 notes · View notes

lukealvezhimboextraordinaire · 3 years

Note

Prompt — wearing their lover’s clothes! (also, “can I get my shirt back? ’'no.”)

Philioise 🥰

okay so i tried to fill the bill this time! things get a bit hot at the end but nothing worth an r rating!

let's see philoise + wearing their lovers clothes.

It had taken some convincing on Eloise’s part.

Phillip was a man with a very defined style and that style didn’t involve hoddies - an absolute pity according to Eloise. He liked his cardigans, his pleated pants, and his wingtips. He liked to look good and yet be comfortable and wasn’t here to be ashamed for taking care of his appearance. And really, it was fine. Eloise loved it. The only problem was that Penelope had been bombarding her with snaps of her wearing Colin’s oversized hoodies and although she would never admit it out loud, she was starting to feel the green-eyed monster burning in her chest. Goddammit, she wanted to take cute pics clapped in one of Phillip’s extra-large hoodies and post them on every social media account she owned.

But Phillip was not having it. Not even when she went out of her way to make obvious hints as to how she wanted to steal his clothes. Or rather, how she wanted to be given his clothes.

And really? What was the problem? Eloise had full access to his closet. She could just walk into it and grab whatever she wanted and he would not protest. But he was a smart man and smart men did not engage in couple wars with their girlfriend’s siblings. Especially not with Polin. Because out of every two words Colin said, one was Penelope. And Phillip loved Eloise but he preferred to keep his displays of affection a bit more subtle and he preferred his love confessions to be for Eloise's ears only. Nothing wrong with proclaiming your love and devotion for the woman you were sharing your life with every two sentences, really. But being around Colin was, in all honesty, a bit sickening.

But even if his love language were light, casual touches or his quiet but calming presence or listening to her ramble about her day, that didn’t mean he loved her any less. Where Colin’s love was loud, grandiose, overwhelming, Phillip’s love was quiet, nurturing, gentle. It was waking up to fresh flowers resting on a vase every morning, it was coming home after a long day at work to the table set and dinner ready, it was finding little notes scattered around the house, reminding her to take her keys with her, to drink some water, to drive safely. It was a soft kiss on her cheek every morning before leaving for work, a cup of her coffee exactly like she liked it placed on her hand. It was pressed flowers under her pillow. It was a back rub while they read together in the afternoons. It was books with his favorite parts and quotes underlined showing up on her bedside table randomly - full pages circled with this reminds me of you all over it. It was gentle praise and sincere encouragement. It was words of affirmation. It was a sense of finally belonging, being taken care of, and being put first, of mattering.

Phillip loved Eloise in all the ways she had ever wanted to be loved but didn’t dare to allow herself to yearn for and even in ways she never knew a person could love another person. He understood her silences as well as her words and always seemed to know how to make her feel better. There was something in his presence that never failed to make her feel safe.

There was nothing she could complain about.

But she wanted to take a bloody picture wrapped in one of his shirts and post it, dammit.

And then a brilliant idea crossed her mind.

She would see Penelope’s hoodie and raise it. Go big or go home.

And go big she did, indeed.

Phillip had one of those botanic conferences he loved so much that weekend, which meant she would (practically) have the house for herself. Or at least she would have the house for herself once the twins went to bed. The smart woman she was, Eloise had already crafted a detailed plan to tire them out so much all through the day, that the moment they came back home they would pass out, giving her the time to put her second master plan into action. It was genius if she herself said it.

-------

The twins had drifted into a peaceful sleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows. The day had been filled with excitement, laughs, and a couple sugar highs that Eloise had made sure to schedule to last until they were on their way home. The plan had almost taken a turn for the worse on the ride home when their eyelids started to flutter. Nothing a good old banger couldn’t avoid. They ended up singing to the top of their lungs to songs Eloise had never heard before walking into those amazing kids’ lives but now she often found herself humming absent-mindedly.

She placed a sweet kiss on the top of their heads and made sure to tuck them in before closing the door quietly and making her way to the bedroom she had come to share with their father.

As much as she would have loved to take her time

Everything was ready; the lights settled to the perfect intensity, the phone resting on the tripod, and the throw pillows placed in a way that only added to the scene. All that she had to do was get in front of the lens. Surprisingly, the hardest part had been to pick the perfect garment to wear. Phillip had such a collection of nice shirts that it had taken Eloise a good twenty minutes to narrow it down to just two and then five more to come up with a winner. The soft baby blue cotton fabric looked very nice against her skin and it even made her eyes stand out so it became an easy pick. Even though the light yellow one was very nice too. Eloise took a mental note to keep it for a late date. Maybe she would have to ask Daphne to keep the twins for a night one of these days.

Eloise tried a couple poses on the mirror before settling for a suggestive yet not very explicit one. Her legs slightly parted, the hem of the shirt covering just about enough skin to allow the word tasteful to be used but to still spark the curiosity about what was (or wasn’t) behind, the first few buttons of the improvised attire open, allowing the valley of her breasts to peak over the lace brasserie, offering a glimpse of what was to come. The wicked smile adorning her features and messy hair the perfect last touches to her ravishing look. The camera snapped once, twice, thrice. Eloise studied the pictures, nodded with satisfaction, and with one last look at them hit sent.

My sunflower: A little something so you don’t forget to think about me tonight;)

Jesus, El, I almost crashed against the wall.

Just so you know, I always think about you.

My sunflower: I hope so.

Is that my shirt?

My sunflower: Maybe?

You little thief.

My sunflower: Do you want it back?

I think you ought to show me if you had stolen more of my clothes.

Like my boxers, for starters….

Eloise didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning she made sure to send Penelope a nerdy snap, Phillip’s shirt looking huge on her smaller frame, making her look like she was wearing an oversized dress. Judging by the dry response she got from her best friend, Colin was about to make a trip to the mall to get a couple dressing shirts. The bar had been raised. Hoodies were no longer good enough. It was pressed shirts or nothing now. Good.

Eloise surprised herself by how reluctant she was to take off his shirt. It had been only a day and she already missed him. His laugh, his hugs, his arms lazily thrown over her shoulders as they laid on the couch, the way he wrinkled up his nose with the first sip of tea… she missed having him around and the peace knowing he was close brought her. And it was funny because until that moment the realization of how used she had gotten to having Phillip by her side had not hit her. Their broken souls were two sides of the same coin, joined and twisted and embroiled until they became one.

So she threw a pair of jeans on, tucked the shirt in the pants, and went on and about with her day. The twins didn’t even bat an eye when she descended down the stairs muffled in their dad’s favorite gear. It was almost as if they had been expecting it for a while. In retrospect, they probably had not given it any thought because they were kids, smart kids, but kids and children didn’t tend to have the same worries as adults. For them, sharing clothes didn’t have a special meaning.

And Eloise realized that she should have gone digging into Phillip’s side of the closet a long time ago. Thinking about it, she couldn’t come up with the exact reason why it had gotten her so long to finally do something that had been on her mind for a while.

But Eloise didn’t have much time to dwell on the reasons behind her actions - or lack of them. Because the door sprung open, startling everyone inside, to reveal a smiling Phillip, bag hanging lazing from his shoulder.

“Daddy!” The kids rushed to his encounter, screaming happily, and attached themselves to his legs. He scooped them up, each in one arm, and when he looked up his eyes locked with Eloise’s. A knowing smile immediately overtook his features. Eloise knew that smile knew what it meant. It was the promise of something to come and it never failed to send a wave of heat down her stomach.

“Hi,” he had to lean in slightly to give her a soft kiss on the lips. The kids made disgusted noises and Phillip took it as his cue to let them run free. He watched them disappear up the stairs and only then did he turn his attention back to the brunette, his eyes burning into hers. “Is that my shirt?”

Eloise licked her lips. “Maybe.”

He grinned, closing the distance between them in two long steps, his lips brushing against her neck, tentatively running down her collarbone until they reached the valley of her breasts. The air caught in her lungs. Her eyes closed. And then he stopped. When she opened them again, he was smirking down at her. “Can I get it back?”

Somehow she managed to find the strength to talk. “N-no.”

Phillip grinned evilly. “Not even if I do this?” His fingers teased the hem of the shirt, sending a wave of electricity down her spine whenever they grazed her skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he started unbuttoning the shirt, leaving a kiss on every inch of exposed skin.

“If you want your shirt. You are going to have to rip it off of me.” Eloise breathed out. And Phillip's eyes burned with desire and something that looked a lot like a promise.

Let’s just say, the shirt ended on the floor.

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

When she came into their bedroom later that night, there was a bag resting on her side of the bed. She looked around for him but he was nowhere to be found. Never one able to resist the temptation of satisfying her curiosity, she looked inside. Tears filled her eyes because there, resting in the bottom of the bag was a brown hoodie. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the warm breath against her neck making her hair stand up. "I would give you the world, my sunflower. All you have to do is ask."

It had taken some convincing on Eloise's part. But she never needed to try so hard.

#eloise bridgerton #eloise x phillip #phillip crane #fics #mine #philoise #listen i don't write smut so that's why this sucks #i tried

58 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

Hi! Anon form HP's classmates ask. After reading the Lavender, Parvati, Dean, and Seamus, I forgot to ask you these: Cedric (I don't think you did him), Cho (pretty sure you didn't do her), and Marietta (even though we barely see anything of her). Oh and also Colin if you can. If it's too long just do the first two. Thanks, and have a good and safe day! =)

Well, I have to confess, these will probably be a lot more boring than you’re expecting. I do tend to have opinions on arbitrary Harry Potter characters, but there’s also a lot of NPCs that, well, I really don’t think about them much. They’re kids, they go to school, seem nice enough, the end.

Not all my opinions are made of spice.

But, with that, let’s begin.

Cedric Diggory

Really not much to say on him.

Seems like a nice enough guy, I appreciated that he was a Hufflepuff so we got to see at least someone from that house that was a really cool dude, the house division also helped explain why we’d seen and heard so little about him (I think he gets a brief mention as being Seeker for Hufflepuff in Prisoner of Azkaban).

For me, what stands out about him is mostly the tragedy. Here was this young man, in the prime of his life, with his whole future ahead of him who senselessly dies.

Had he not accompanied Harry, he would have lived, and it was pure unfortunate luck that he did. And then it’s over so quickly, just a demand of “kill the spare” and he’s dead. That’s it, it’s all over.

And then his death is made a mockery of, overwritten, then willfully forgotten by society.

He’s used as evidence by Harry and Dumbledore for Voldemort’s return, his murder is pinned on Harry by the government, and by the time the government admits to what happened they’ve moved on to bigger problems.

We only really see the mourning of Cedric from his father and later Cho. Harry’s messed up about it, but it was more from witnessing the event, he didn’t really know Cedric that well as a person. In fact, he feels very awkward and put out when it becomes clear that, a few months later, Cho is not handling her boyfriend having been murdered by a dead man very well.

And that’s what strikes me about him, just how easily he’s forgotten, and how sad it all is.

Cedric might be the reddest of red shirts in Harry Potter.

Cho Chang

I wish more had been done with Cho.

I know, I know, we get a lot of Cho.

But we get Cho in the context of Harry’s first romance, his crush that later sets him up for Harry/Ginny (JKR is fond of using other pairings to set up her main pairing, we see this also with Ron/Lavender). They give it a whirl, Harry finally gets what he wants, and it turns out to not really be his thing.

Cho is too girly, enjoys things like Madame Puddifoots, and is clearly still hung up on Cedric. The whole thing ends very awkwardly and we get a Harry who’s ready to move on to Ginny by book six.

That said, that’s what I like about Cho. She has this great boyfriend who she really liked, he dies horrifically and tragically, and she’s left trying to sort through the aftermath. She ends up clinging to Harry as he is a) Harry Potter and essentially Jesus b) the only witness to what happened to Cedric. To her, I imagine, she and Harry share this unbreakable bond after fourth year. She was closest to Cedric in the school, the only one who truly seems to want to mourn him, and Harry watched Cedric die.

Cho lives in this world where Cedric’s death has been made a political issue. That his dying seems not to have mattered, indeed, is barely discussed so much as the manner in which he died. People are constantly fighting whether a deranged Harry did it, Voldemort came back, and Cedric gets forgotten somewhere in the middle.

And Cho tries to move on, she tries to embrace the fight against Voldemort, prepare herself to defend her nation and help fight against the man who murdered Cedric, but it just doesn’t work out. Because ultimately, they’re a bunch of kids in a room practicing the patronus. And even in the DA, despite acknowledging that Voldemort’s back, it’s still never about Cedric. It’s all about Voldemort and what’s coming, Cedric, oh yeah, poor guy, what a tragedy, the first casualty of war.

So, mostly I just feel very bad for Cho, and wish we could have seen more of her to see what the effect death has on people. We have Harry’s reaction to Sirius’ death but... in a weird way he actually gets over that kind of quickly. This isn’t the post for it, but to me Harry was always more upset by the loss of what Sirius represented than Sirius himself.

Marietta Edgecombe

Marietta does not deserve the hate she gets. Sure, she decided to leave the DA and snitched. But you know what, they’re fifteen year olds in a boarding school, and the DA while stupid was also kind of terrifying.

I mean, you suddenly find yourself in a group called “Dumbledore’s Army”, which is actively preparing itself for “fighting against the dark lord” and possibly “against those who deny his return”. The club has all these rules about secrecy, which at first seem reasonable as it’s against the rules, but then start sounding pretty scary. It sounds like you just signed up to launch a coup against the ministry on Albus Dumbledore’s behest. Had I been in DA,I like to imagine at some point I’d start thinking “what the actual fuck?”

More than that, Marietta’s family is on the line. Her mother works for the ministry. Her mother could be fired or perhaps even persecuted if this got out. Shit starts getting very real for Marietta.

So, Marietta leaves and snitches, and then she gets stitches.

Hermione gleefully scars and deforms her, something Marietta will carry with her for the rest of her life. I mean, can you imagine if Hermione had said, “Oh, by the way, if you rat us out I will personally murder you. Just kidding, but I will cut up your face, snitch” that anyone would react well? Which is probably why Hermione just stuck to an ominous vague warning instead. The true noble members, after all, would never think of leaving.

So yeah, given Hermione, actually given all of it (including Harry’s complete lack of sympathy for Marietta being branded when Cho tries to bring up her situation) the DA absolutely should have been shut down. My god, it was spiraling out of control, and given Harry and Hermione could have honestly gotten to the point where they took out hits on, oh I don’t know, Draco Malfoy.

You laugh, but I’m serious, they would totally do that.

Colin Creevy

It’s very bold of JKR to assume I care at all about Colin.

Colin’s one of the typical HP NPCs, quirky enough to be memorable, gives us a nice muggleborn student, weird kid but around enough that we remember him.

Then he dies in the Battle of Hogwarts, where many of our main characters survive, and I’m supposed to be absolutely devastated. COLIN IS DEAD, FRED IS DEAD, THE WORLD IS SO SAD.

We barely know Colin, his dying is just there to wrack up the red shirt numbers and make the last book of Harry Potter feel more like an actual war with actual consequences.

Sad that he died, but certainly not a tear jerking moment for me.

#ask #anon

116 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years

Text

Bound - Part 14 *repost*

Summary: Henry’s called all your family on the way to the hospital and helps you settle in when you finally get there. The labor is really hard on you, but, Henry does everything he can to make you comfortable and support you. Henry, cuddling, playful bickering and listening to sappy songs, is what helps get you through and in the end, your and Henry’s daughter is finally born.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3,783

Rating: PG-13 - Fluff, Arranged Marriage, Pregnancy, Protective!Henry, Protective!Kal, Pain and Comfort, Labor

Parts: Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10, Pt.11, Pt.12, Pt. 13

Author’s Note: The Henry and Kal protective train keeps on rolling! I really love writing this story, there’s so many places I can go with it!

Henry had called his family and yours to let them know you were in labor, as he drove you to the hospital.

When you were admitted and shown to your room, Henry helped you undress and get into the hospital gown. You sat up in the hospital bed, letting the nurses put in an IV port and everything else they needed to do to make sure your labor and delivery went smooth. Your OB came in a little while later to check on you, see how you were doing and to see how dilated you were.

“It looks like you've just dilated to three centimeters.” She told you, waiting patiently for the contraction you were having to subside. “So, you're officially in active labor and it's just a matter of time until its time to push.”

“How long can that take?” Henry asked, curiously, rubbing your arm as you relaxed.

“It varies, it can be as short as three hours or as long as five. But, all mums are different, especially new ones.” She explained to him. “We'll check how dilated you are in two hours, and go from there. Do you have any other questions?”

“No.” You shook your head at her.

“Nope.” Henry smiled, squeezing your hand. “How you doing, babe?” He asked after the doctor left.

You turned your head and cracked an eye open at him, giving him a look. “What do you think, Witcher?” You asked, smirking.

“I think, you're doing really well.” He blushed, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“Well, at least one of us does.” You chuckled, pressing your free hand to your stomach as it slowly started to firm up again. “What did your parents say?” You asked, taking deep breathes and preparing yourself for the inevitable.

“My parents, Charlie and Heather are booking a flight to come out here.” He told you, rubbing your back as you leaned forward through the pain. “Your mom and Luke are doing the same thing.”

“Cool.” You said, letting out a long breath.

Henry got up and grabbed one of the wash clothes by the sink in the room and wet it with cold water, sitting down on the edge of the bed, he gently wiped the sweat from your face, pressing the cold cloth to your forehead, the sides and the back of your neck. You smiled softly at him, you always loved how caring and attentive he could be, the amount of love and affection he showed you never creased to amaze you. Henry smiled back at you, resting his hand on your flushed cheek and leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“Can I do or get anything for you?” He asked, setting the damp cloth aside.

“I'd kill for a cuddle.” You laughed, grinning.

“Shove over, then.” He laughed back, motioning at you with his hand.

“Are you really?” You giggled, surprised.

“You want to cuddle, we'll cuddle.” He said as you rolled onto your side and carefully laid down next to you, draping his arm over your side and gently caressed your belly.

He kissed the back of your shoulder as another contraction came, rubbing your tense stomach, shushing you as you whimpered and whined in discomfort and pain, pressing your back against his chest and grabbing at his hand, squeezing so hard you felt his joints pop and he grunted at the pain, but he didn't pull it away, you needed it more than he needed you to not break his hand. He kissed the back of your neck, when he felt your body go slack against his, wrapping his arm around your torso and hugged you back against him, curving his legs into yours, so you both laid in a near ball together. He picked up his head a few minutes later, when you started laughing.

“What's wrong?” He frowned, rather concerned that you were laughing so hard after a contraction.

“We're spooning.” You laughed, tears dripping down your face.

“Yeah, you wanted to cuddle...”

“I know, but...” You panted. “You're the big spoon, I'm the medium spoon and Lily is the little spoon.” You explained, and started laughing afresh.

Henry pressed his forehead to the back of your neck, and started laughing with you, grinning into your back. “I didn't even think of that.” He chuckled, pressing his lips to your spine.

“I've seen a lot of things.” Your OB said, walking into the room. “Spouses cuddling in bed, is one of them. But, I've never seen them laughing, while they cuddled.” She grinned, chuckling herself.

“Sorry, she made a funny observation.” Henry laughed, shaking his head and getting up.

“It's quite all right.” She assured you both, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Laughing during labor is actually very beneficial. It helps relieve tension, increases air intake and therefore increases oxygen intake, and helps give the full benefit of your endorphins, nature’s painkiller.” She explained, sitting on the edge of the bed, and started checking how dilated you were. “Five centimeters, you're half way there, y/n.” She praised you, smiling brightly.

“Thank god.” You sighed, resting your head back on your pillow.

“Just a little bit longer.” She assured you, then went to make her other rounds.

“I'm going to go get a drink, you want something?” Henry asked, standing up and patting his back pocket to make sure he had his wallet.

“Ice.” You told him.

“Just ice chips?” He made sure.

“Yes.”

“All right.” He nodded, kissing your temple and going out. “Mum!” He grinned, getting off the elevator on his way to the cafeteria.

“How is she doing, sweetie?” Henry's mom asked, hugging him.

“She's doing amazing.” He smiled, hugging her back. “She's five centimeters now, so a few more hours and the baby will be here.”

“How are you holding up?” She asked, rubbing his arms.

Henry took a deep breath, held it for a long moment and let it out, his shoulders dropping. “I'm scared shit-less, I don't know if I'm ready to be a dad. I don't even know, if I'll make a good one.” He raked his hand through his hair and looked down at his mom, reminding her of the little boy that would call her crying everyday at boarding school.

She rested her hands on his face and smiled up at him. “You are going to be an amazing father, Henry. I know you will, and so does y/n.” She assured him, kissing his cheek. “What room is she in?”

“She's in room 18C.” He told his mom, hugging his dad as he came up behind her. “Where's Charlie and Heather?” He asked.

“They're at the hotel settling the kids in, they'll be over in a bit.” His mom told him, pressing the up button for the elevator.

“All right, I'm going to get a drink and y/n some ice chips, so I'll meet you up there.” He said and went down to the cafeteria.

“Marianne!” You grinned as your mother-in-law came into your room.

“Y/n.” She smiled at you, throwing her arms around your neck and kissing your cheek. “You look glowing, love.” she told you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“That's very sweet of you.” You blushed, smiling at her.

She laughed, patting your cheek and moving out of the way so Henry's dad, Colin, could hug you next. You all talked, Marianne would hold your hand and use a cloth to wipe your face, while you had contractions, talking you through it and offered her support to you, Colin got you some water and tried to stay quiet and out of the way. Henry finally came back up to the room with his drink and your ice, he kissed your temple as he gave the ice to you. He'd been detained by Charlie and Heather arriving, they'd left the kids at the hotel with a friend to watch them. They all stayed in the room with you and Henry for a while, before the contractions got to be too much, then removed themselves to the family waiting room down the hall. A nurse came in and gave you a shot of Pethidine in thigh, to try and help with the pain, since you were refusing a epidural.

“You're doing so good, baby.” Henry encouraged you, rubbing your back and shoulders as you stood bent over your hospital bed. “I'm proud of you.”

“Easy for you to say.” You panted. “You're the one with the cock.” You told him, flexing your back and shoulders.

“I know.” He smiled, not taking anything mean you'd say personal, knowing it was just the pain and exhaustion talking, it was something he'd learned to expect from the baby books and birthing classes. “I'm still proud of you.” He told you, moving back and letting you pace the room.

“Thanks, Puppy.” You sighed, pressing your hands to your back.

Henry grinned as you held your arms out to him, wiggling your fingers for grabby hands and he crossed the room to you, letting you rest your arms on his shoulders, hands caressing the back of his hair and rested his hands on your hips, you started to sway together, like you had back home.

“How about we set the mood?” He grinned at you.

“Oh, lord.” You smirked. “Leave it to you, to wanna have sex on the maturity ward.” You teased him as he moved away.

“No.” He blushed, going into the baby bag he'd packed.

Henry pulled out a small speaker, turned it on and opened a music app on his phone, pulling up the labor playlist you and he had put together over the last few months, pressing play. You laughed, hearing Tell Me Baby, by the Red Hot Chili Peppers start to play, softly.

“Tell me, Baby, what's your story?” You smiled, singing the song to him as he rested his hands on your hips again and you put your arms and hands where they had been on his shoulders and in his hair.

“The thing we need is, never all that hard to find.” Henry sang back to you, grinning.

“Run for cover, my sense of fear is running thin. Undercover! Just like a candle in the wind, Tell everybody, tell everybody. Brothers, sisters, the ending is coming.” You sang to Henry, resting your forehead on his and closing your eyes. “Ohhhhh...We are fallen, we are fallen...Ohhhhh, We are fallen, we are fallen. Now, we're just gonna ride it out.”

You chuckled and rested your forehead on Henry's shoulder as Paul Anka's song Put Your Head On My Shoulder, started to play. Henry smiled, caressing the back of your hair and pressing his lips to your temple, shushing you as he felt the warmth of your tears drip onto the skin of his neck as a particularly hard and agonizing contraction tensed up your body.

“You're so close, Nugget.” He whispered into your ear, as you just let yourself have a moment and released all your pain, exhaustion, crankiness and just the general feeling of really being over being pregnant, in a good cry. “Two more centimeters, a bit of pushing, and it'll all be over. We'll have our beautiful daughter in our arms, and it will be worth it, I promise.” He purred, his lips brushing against the cove of your ear and wiped the tears off your face. “I love you, y/n. I am so proud of you. You're going to be an outstanding mother, because you are a phenomenal wife. None of this has been easy, the last two years, for us. Being shoved together by our parents, our first year, the divorce...”

“That lasted ten minutes.” You groaned, throat tightening.

“Still, it was hard.” He whispered, pressing his lips to your ear. “Then, you getting hurt and what happened after that. I know, this pregnancy hasn't been easy for you either. But, we got through it, Nugget. Both of us, together, as one, and we can get through this. Together.”

“As one.” You said, softly, relaxing and feeling better. “I love you, Henry. So much. You're going to be an amazing father, just like you are an incredible husband.” Henry rested his head on your shoulder and the two of you stood there at the foot of your hospital bed, resting against each other, swaying and rocking to the sound of the playlist that was still going, streaming out All of Me by John Legend. How insanely appropriate.

“Henry.” You whispered, almost soundlessly.

“Y/n.” He whispered back, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“I have the very strong urge to push.” You told him, gulping. “You might wanna get the nurse.”

“All right, let's get you into bed then.” He said, very calmly, and guided you back to bed, making sure you were comfortable, before going to the nurse's station, to tell them you had the urge to push.

A nurse came into the room and check your cervix, finding you were now fully dilated. Things got chaotic after that, Henry rushed out to the waiting room to tell his family that you were getting ready to do the real work, then came back to you. You gripped his hand, super tight, nails digging into the top of his hand, but his focus was on you, using his other hand to mop the sweat from your face.

“You'll be all right.” He said, seeing the fear, you finally let show. “I'm right here.” He told you, gripping your hand with both of his and touch his forehead to yours.

“Don't go.” You panted, and let out a painful groan and whimpered.

“I'm not going anywhere, sweetie.” Henry smiled at you, brushing your sweat damp hair out of your flushed face, looking at you with most tender expression. “You're stuck with me.” He chuckled, starting to shake as emotion and adrenaline kicked in, it was finally hitting you both.

This was it.

In a matter of moments your sweet little girl would come into the world, and life as you both knew it, the life you and Henry screamed, fought, slipped, clawed together, shattered, redefined and created, through it all, was once again changing, for something so much more precious. It was never going to be the same. The world outside would look so different to both of you, seen through the eyes of parents wanting to protect and nurture their child, at any and all costs. This was the last puzzle piece to the picture, and the picture in a whole was so blissfully beautiful and bright.

You threw your head back, every inch of your body drawing tighter than a piano wire, and screamed, the veins in your neck showing as you did. The pain of the contractions now was unbearable and you really regretted foregoing the epidural, it was too late now to get it, too. So, you went to the next best thing, your hand trying to find out how much pressure it had to exert to break Henry's hand, which you so far hadn't achieved, thankfully, and yelling.

“Holy fuck!” You snapped as the nurse helped you bend your legs, getting into position for pushing. “You have to get her out of me, NOW!” You yelled, tearing at the sheets beneath you with your free hand. “Don't you fucking laugh at me, Henry William Cavill, or so help me God!” You threatened him, as he chuckled at you,

He didn't exactly find the situation funny, you were in agony and trying to birth his daughter. But, even being the hot mess you were right now, sweaty, flushed, crying and seriously pissed off, he still found you irresistibly gorgeous. He did find it humorous that you busted out his full name, yelling at him like he was your child, that was being naughty.

“Is this what our daughter has to expect, when she's in trouble?” He asked you, between contractions and smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes and your head in his direction, making him laugh yet again. “I swear, Henry...” You didn't get to finish the sentence as another one hit, and Henry decided to drop it.

“Are you ready to push, y/n?” Your OB asked, positioning herself between your bent and open legs.

“I was ready to fucking push; nine months, a week and three days ago.” You told her, straining against the pain and resisting the urge to push, until she told you too.

“You've been keeping count.” She said, amused and shaking her head. “Let me have a quick look, and we'll see, if you're really ready to push.”

“Fuck me!” You howled, arching your back and whining.

“Y/n.” Henry smiled, shaking his head at your choice words during the contractions. “Our daughter's first word is going to end up being, fuck.”

“Oh, fucking go to hell, you little shit!” You barked at him, purposely putting several cuss words into the sentence. “You say, fuck, more than I do.” You accused him, making murderous eye contact.

“Geralt!”

Henry instantly blushed, a huge and shy smile on his face as he dropped his chin to his chest to hide it. “More than fair.” He mumbled, still to shyly embarrassed to look you in the eye again, or any else in the room for that matter.

“All right, y/n.” The doctor cut in, smirking at your and Henry's banter.

She usually had the wife screaming at the top of their lungs about how much they hated their husband for doing this to them, or angry that they were touching them. But, she rarely saw you and Henry not touching throughout the long seven hours you'd been in the hospital, with some rather painful laboring, or arguing with each other.

Bickering, yes.

But, that's not the same thing. It rather impressed her, and part of her wished more of her patients and spouses were like you and Henry, it made her job a million times better; since she didn't have to play referee between them and goalie for the baby.

“I think, we're on time to push.” She told you, getting comfortable between your legs. “All right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, out of breath.

“You need to calm down now.” Henry whispered to you, in a gentle voice, petting your hair and caressing the side of your face with his knuckles. “Just focus on your breathing, clear your mind as much as you can and stay relaxed, and calm.” He coached you, so focused on you, that the pupils of his blue eyes were like pin pricks. “I'll be right here with you, the whole time, you have nothing to be afraid of, or worry about, all right.”

“Minus, pushing a whole human out of my body.” You said, trying to put the humor you actually felt about it, in your voice, but failed. Luckily, Henry got the jest of what you were trying for and kissed your cheek.

“Y/n, the next time you feel the need to push, whether it's during or after a contraction, do it.” the Doctor instructed you. “When you do push, I want you to hold it for five, then relax. All right?”

“Right.” You nodded, taking deep breaths in and out.

A few moments later, the very strong urge to push happened and you did what the doctor said, pushing down and held it there as she counted. One....two....three....four....five. Then, relaxed again with your eyes rolling shut, you were so exhausted and spent, and you'd only just got to the hard part. Another urge, another push and count to five, relaxing again. You did it several times, Henry praising you from your side, the doctor encouraging you from down between your legs.

“This is the most fucked up ab workout, ever.” You groaned, relaxing after another push.

“Soon, you'll have better abs than I do.” Henry joked back, wiping a cold cloth across your face.

“You can keep them.” You snorted, grunted and starting pushing again.

“You're doing fantastic, y/n.” the Doctor smiled. “I can see her head, so she's starting to crown.”

“My Princess, already.” Henry grinned looking down, but could see anything with your gown in the way.

“You are a fucking sap.” You chuckled, shaking your head and bearing down again.

“That I am.” Henry smiled, rubbing your back through it. “I have my Queen, and now I'll have my Princess. What more could I ask for?”

“You can ask her to come out faster.” You retorted, letting out a deep breath.

“That request might be filled in the next two or three pushes.” the Doctor told you.

“Two.” You told her, stubbornly.

“Then, make them good.” She remarked, looking up at you and smirking.

“Challenge, accepted.” You smirked back, and when the next urge came, you pushed as hard as you could.

“Little bit more.”

You took deep breathes in and out, in and out, staring up at the ceiling and preparing yourself. It wasn't any different than being on the track. If you could take a nasty fall on your bike and get up, and walk it off. Then, you could give one hell of a last push and welcome your daughter into the world, asking her what took so long. Henry could see the wheels turning in your head as you laid there, waiting for the next push, and knew that that one could be the one to do it. You'd grown exhausted and highly stubborn, a combination that made you dangerous. You slowly closed your eyes, feeling the urge start to build in the base of your stomach, spread up your spine and take control of your mind. Taking a sharp breath in, tensing every muscle you could and bared down with all your strength. Then, felt the incredibly strange wet swoosh from your core, a great pressure relieved in your stomach and let out the breath you were holding and laid back down.

A moment later, the absolutely magical sound of a babying crying filled the room and you knew everything was all right in this new world, feeling Henry's lips on yours and hearing his excited voice, you dozed off for a few minutes.

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Bound #Bound *Fic*#Part 14 #Repost #Henry Cavill/You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill x Reader #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #pregnancy #Labor #Family #Daughter #Cuddles #Kal

244 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Text

lost time (chapter nine)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: cursing, drinking

wordcount: 4.4k

That stung more than he expected, even though he’d heard it before - just not from her lips. He shot his response back quickly, too quickly, and regretted the words the second they left his mouth. “At least I don’t have to work two jobs just to pay for college.”

Her face turned to stone as she felt the heat creeping up her neck, threatening to expose her embarrassment. Sophie gathered her things quickly, carelessly shoving them into her backpack, then paused before leaving to look him straight in the eye. “That’s fucking low, Rafe, even for you.” She said quietly. The words hung in the air between them as she turned sharply on her heel and strode calmly away, trying to beat the tears on the verge of spilling over her cheeks.

Her watch vibrated on her wrist just as she stepped outside, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Thirty minutes. Timed perfectly.

Rafe’s ears were ringing as he just sat there, frozen, and watched her pack her things and go. Once she was out of eyesight he blinked, finally coming to his senses, and scrambled after her. “Sophie, wait!” He called down the hall but she ignored him, letting the front door slam shut behind her.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Colin was just heading down the stairs and paused as he saw Rafe, concerned. “You good, man?” Rafe just shook his head wordlessly as he stormed up the stairs past Colin, shutting himself in their room.

The fight hit differently from usual - before, she had been able to fling insults back and forth with no hesitation, no consequence after. They knew they had their limits and kept it fairly impersonal. Now that Sophie actually knew Rafe, she felt guilty.

Later that night, Sophie was still pissed off - but she was more concerned with the momentary flash of hurt on Rafe’s face after her insult. She knew better than to cross the line about his dad. His insult wasn’t any better, but it didn’t bother her as much as it would have had it come from someone else’s lips. Maybe it was his way of matching her hurt, just throwing darts until one stuck. She knew the feeling all too well, as it was her go-to response. Fight fire with fire, flames threatening to burn each other alive if they couldn’t find a balance soon enough.

Putting up an invisible wall only works so well until the other person can see right through it.

“I fucked up.”

Sophie entered the room with that announcement, teary-eyed as she bit her shaky lip.

Allie and Julia were both draped across the couch and sat up quickly, pausing the movie immediately. “Come here, babe, what’s wrong?” Julia frowned, patting the small space in between them on the futon.

Sophie crossed the room and sat, pulling a pillow to her chest. “I just yelled at Rafe.”

Allie let out a quiet oh and frowned. “I thought you were getting along.”

“We were. But I just fucked it all up.” After a moment’s pause, she spoke again. “But he said some shit too!” She added hurriedly, as if it excused her behavior.

Julia crossed her arms, wary. “Give us the rundown.”

Sophie took a breath then explained the whole interaction in detail, clutching the pillow closer as she felt Allie and Julia’s disappointment from how she acted. “Soph…” Julia spoke softly, resting a comforting hand on her arm. Allie’s brow was furrowed, thinking of how exactly to respond.

“I know.” Sophie huffed, frustrated. “I shouldn’t have -”

“He seriously said that to you?” Allie cut her off.

“Yeah, but. It didn’t sound like he meant it.” Sophie reasoned. “It was a pretty half-assed comeback.”

“Still.”

“Look, that was shitty, I’m not excusing that. He needs to apologize.” Julia shook her head. “But so do you.”

“I know. I feel awful. I could just...I could tell that hurt.” Sophie murmured, frowning as she thought about the way Rafe’s face twisted in disappointment, then how he had forced his face to be impassive in his pride. “Fuck, I just ruined everything.”

Allie shook her head quickly and wrapped her arm around Sophie’s shoulders, squeezing for a moment. “You didn’t. I bet he feels guilty right now too, just. Think about it, go to bed and talk to him tomorrow.”

Julia hugged Sophie too. “It’ll be alright, Soph.”

Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, keeping her eyes trained forward as she spoke quietly. “I really care about him.”

“We know. I think he knows too. It’ll work out.” Allie reassured her, Julia nodding in agreement.

After their conversation, Sophie promptly changed into her pajamas and headed straight to bed, despite the fact it was only 8 o’clock. Her culpability weighed on her heart so much, she felt like she was going to be sick.

At the ring of her phone around 10pm, Sophie was surprised to see Rafe’s contact light up her screen. She rarely kept photos for her contacts, but had allowed him to set his own photo with a goofy selfie after one of their study sessions. It made her laugh most every time she saw it, but now she just felt wracked with guilt. She waited until the last second to pick up, hesitant.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Rafe responded, his voice a little gravelly. “Can I see you? In person?”

“Is that a good idea?” Sophie replied.

He let out a tiny huff. “Yeah. I’d like to see you. Just - meet up with me in between Theta and Delt?” He asked, knowing they were only a couple blocks apart.

“Okay.” She gave in, just like she knew she would. “See you soon.” She pulled on sweatpants and shoved her feet into Birkenstocks, giving herself a quick once over in the mirror to ensure her eyes weren’t still entirely red and puffy from crying earlier. When she was satisfied, she headed out the door, walking toward Delt.

Rafe did the same, walking toward Theta with a sense of purpose. After he had dissected every single second of the moments before in his head, he was prepared to face her and apologize - anything if it got them back to normal.

He smiled once he saw her from a distance and frowned when she didn’t return it, coming closer until they were close enough to talk.

“Hey.”

She nodded, noticing his voice was a little rough, eyes a little red. “Hi.”

He frowned, deeper. “Soph, I’m -”

“I’m sorry.”

They spoke at the same time, matching apologetic looks on their faces. Sophie laughed quietly, breaking the tension. He relaxed just slightly but kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Sorry. I interrupted.” She urged him on.

“Ah.” He paused, trying to form the right words in his head, then continued with conviction. “I fucked up, Soph, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, that’s nothing to be ashamed of and you work really hard, it’s really admirable and that’s -”

“Okay, okay, I’m not gonna make you grovel.” She teased and crossed her arms, shivering slightly.

He took notice right away and shrugged off his jacket, stepped forward and tried wrapping it around her shoulders. “Here, take this.” Sophie resisted for a moment, batting his hands away, but he was insistent. “Stop, you’re gonna freeze.”

She sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but gave in with a small smile. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, too. I crossed a line and I shouldn’t have.”

Rafe nodded, not at all concerned with her apology and was just grateful she had accepted his. “It’s alright. Thanks.”

“You’re not a dick.” She continued. “I shouldn’t have...I just shouldn’t have said any of that. I came in acting like a bitch, I don’t know why.”

“It’s fine, Soph - Sophie, I don’t care.” He corrected himself, unsure after their interaction earlier.

“Soph is alright.” She smiled at the nickname and pulled his jacket closer around herself.

After a momentary pause, he awkwardly stuck out his hand for a handshake and she just laughed. “Don’t be stupid.” She stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist. He was tense for a moment, then relaxed slightly, wrapping his arms around her and held her close for a beat.

Sophie almost had to force herself to pull away, but kept her hands on his waist as she took a small step back. “Jesus, Rafe, don’t be so stiff. You act like you’ve never been touched.” She teased.

“I’ve been touched plenty of times.” He shot back with a smirk, shoving her shoulder playfully.

A wicked grin slowly spread across her face. “Your own hand doesn’t count, Cameron.”

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Fuck off.” The otherwise crude insult was marred by his grin. All the tension fell from his shoulders as they traded insults in their typical way, like nothing had happened. They fell silent and she went to hand his jacket back, but he placed his big hands on her shoulders, keeping it in place. “Just - give it back to me when we have class. You’ll be cold on your walk home.”

“Walk with me.” She suggested. She’d deny it, but her cheeks flushed as the words came out of her mouth, an uneasy feeling of anticipation in her stomach. Sophie offered her hand.

Rafe was hesitant, but slipped his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers. She shivered again and he frowned, glancing over as they fell into step. “Cold still?”

“Um, no. I’m good.” She gave him a shy smile.

“You’re shivering.” He pointed out.

“You make me nervous.” Sophie blurted out, then squeezed his hand gently, keeping her eyes trained on the sidewalk as they walked.

“I make you - you make me nervous!” He exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

She stopped dead in her tracks, looking up at him. “Why?”

“Because, I…” Rafe trailed off, grasping for the right words. “I’m afraid I’m going to do or say the wrong thing, and we’ll be right back to where we were.” He confessed. “And I don’t want to go back to just fighting.”

She fell silent, taking in his expression. She felt dizzy in the best way possible, heart pounding against her chest. “Me either.” She murmured.

“So...what now?” He was tense, almost afraid of her answer, and started walking again, urging her along. It took a second for her to follow in step.

“...We’ll see.” Sophie decided. Surely he could feel her sweaty palms, feel the anxiety radiating off of her, but she didn’t dare pull her hand away.

“We’ll see.” Rafe repeated with a hint of disappointment, shoulders slumping just slightly as he walked her to the front door of Theta and reluctantly dropped her hand.

Sophie just stood there for a moment before shrugging off his jacket and handing it back, stepping close, close enough for him to kiss her, if he really wanted to. “Night, Rafe.”

Rafe eyed over her lips for a split second, then decided otherwise. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned forward just enough to place a sweet kiss on her forehead. “Night, Soph.” Before he could regret it too much, he turned on his heel and headed off.

She watched him go in a moment of temporary shock, lightly pressing her fingers to the spot where he had kissed her forehead. A fucking forehead kiss. Platonic at best. Maybe she had misread the whole situation, she thought to herself, then headed inside as he was out of sight.

The next couple of weeks were an awkward dance between Rafe and Sophie of unanswered what-are-we’s and quick touches, flirty one-liners and heated cheeks. With the first snow in the last week of October came ice, something Sophie was massively underprepared for as she shoved her feet into Converse for class as she hustled out the door. Rafe and Sophie successfully won their second debate together and they were both high off their shared energy, grinning as they walked out of class together.

“Are you heading toward the architecture building?” Rafe asked, turning that direction. He had grown into a routine of escorting her to her next class, even though she denied his help every time.

“No, I’m headed home. My class I TA for is just a lecture today, so they didn’t need me.” Sophie explained, turning the other way.

He grinned, matching her stride. “Great, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She argued, more out of habit than anything.

He shook his head, smiling. “When are you gonna learn that I want to?”

Sophie didn’t have a comeback for that and just fell silent, smiling to herself. It only took a couple minutes for her to slip on the ice, grabbing onto his jacket to stay up.

He caught her around the waist easily, laughing. “You’ve lived here for at least two years, you’d think you’d know to wear good shoes on a snow day.”

She blushed, more at his touch than anything. “I was running late, forgot about the ice. I still don’t own snow boots.”

He chuckled. “Spoke like a true North Carolinian.” Rafe extended his arm, crooked at the elbow, and she took it with a grateful smile.

“My hero.” Sophie kept a hold on his arm even when they made it onto the snowy unshoveled sidewalk, where she surely wouldn’t slip. (Rafe didn’t mind.)

He walked her all the way to the Theta front door, ignoring her when she protested as they walked past Delt. “I’m fine, I swear I’ll make it.” She argued and he just shook his head, tugging her along.

“Can’t have my debate partner falling and leaving me to fend for myself.” When they made it to Theta, he gave her a quick hug. She responded by reaching up on his toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek, pretending not to notice his almost-immediate blush.

“Thanks, Rafe!” She spoke quickly before heading inside quickly, before he could register the kiss. Sophie shut the door fast behind her and leaned up against it the second she was in, trying to control her racing heart. Maybe she was doing the unthinkable - falling for Rafe Cameron.

As Sophie adjusted her leotard one last time, she smoothed her hands over her hips, giving herself a once-over in the mirror.

“You look great, Soph, let’s go.” Allie encouraged her, standing from her spot on the bed she’d been waiting on for the last ten minutes.

“Are you sure? I could still change, I have my costume from last year. I feel like it shows off too much of my ass.” She tugged up on the leotard. “Or my chest.”

“You have every right to show off your ass, it’s your birthday.” Julia reassured her. “We gotta go, I promised I’d bring drinks to the pregame at the senior house so we can’t be late.” She paused and started rifling through her closet, then pulled out a half-empty bottle of Malibu. “But first! You are way too sober for your twenty-first birthday.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose at the sight of the bottle, bringing up memories of the last time she was drunk off of it. “I thought the plan was celebrating next weekend? You know, because people have other priorities on Halloween?”

“Not us people.” Allie grinned, pulling three shot glasses out from their hidden spot in her desk drawer.

Julia bumped Sophie’s hip and filled up the shot glasses, taking her job seriously. “You deserve two birthday celebrations, Soph. Next weekend will just be more about you.”

Sophie laughed but couldn’t help but grin back as she took one of the shots from their shared vanity. “I love you guys.”

“Oh boy, she hasn’t even had the shot and she’s sappy.” Allie teased, clinking the shot glass against hers. “Happy 21st!”

“Happy 21st!” Julia echoed as they all took the shots together.

Two shots and three drinks later, the trio finally left the pregame for the house party. Sophie was surprisingly steady on her feet, drinking water in between every single alcoholic drink for balance. (Next weekend was for getting drunk, anyways. Tonight she’d just enjoy the buzz.) She shouldn’t have been so surprised Rafe was there, considering the party was hosted at a Delt senior’s house, but was anyway.

Rafe greeted her a few minutes after she came in, giving her a grin and a friendly hug. “Soph, hi! Wonder Woman, huh?”

She was a little caught off guard but hugged him back, giving him a once over to decipher his costume. He wore classic black frames, a black blazer over a white button down and jeans. “Since when did you wear glasses?”

He laughed and just shrugged, then handed her a solo cup. “Here, I made you a drink.”

Sophie took the drink, hesitant. “What is it?”

“Moscow mule, your favorite. Oh! I almost forgot, happy birthday!” He beamed.

She hid a grin in the cup as she took a sip, pleasantly surprised that he remembered - both her birthday and her drink order. “Thank you. Alright, I’m lost. What’s your costume?”

Rafe placed the glasses back on and unbuttoned half his shirt to reveal a Superman logo, smirking. “Looks like we match, birthday girl.”

“Oh my god.” She pretended to groan but stepped forward anyways, reaching up to mess up his neatly styled hair.

He ducked away, but not before letting her mess with it for a second. “Hey! I thought the glasses might give me away.”

“Didn’t I tell you I like your hair messy? And no, they suit you too much. But I like the costume. You look good.”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, trying his best to ignore her first comment. “The glasses are real, so I’d hope they look good. You look really good, uh, in case I didn’t say that already.”

It was Sophie’s turn to blush and she bit her lip. “Thank you. I’m gonna catch up with some friends, but I’ll see you later?” She asked, touching his arm gently.

He nodded, grinning. “See you ‘round.”

Hardly an hour later, Rafe had ditched the jacket and kept his shirt half unbuttoned to show off the Superman logo, not arguing when people commented on him matching with Sophie. He kept zoning out during his third round of beer pong with Colin and James, one of them adding a random girl to their game each time. James hit him in the cheek with a ping pong ball from across the table, pointedly. “What are you staring at?”

Colin followed Rafe’s gaze to see Sophie cornered by a boy across the big room and nodded in recognition. “Make a move or leave it, Rafe.”

James, obnoxious and louder than usual thanks to the alcohol, bounded over and shoved Rafe’s shoulder. “Go get her, man!”

Colin immediately slapped his hand over James’ mouth, rolling his eyes. “Keep it down, stupid.”

Sophie was making her way back to Allie and Julia when her ex trapped her in the corner of the room, giving her a hug that lasted a moment too long. They had ended on friendly terms, but Sophie always suspected there was part of him still pining. A few too many drunk texts from him had confirmed that. Rafe watched her from across the room - just to make sure she was safe, he told himself, although his chest tightened at the thought of her flirting with someone else. After he watched her dodge a kiss, laughing awkwardly, he decided to make his move and strolled over.

“Hey Soph.” Rafe murmured, dropping a kiss to her temple before wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leaned back into his embrace, surprised at how natural it felt. Too natural. “Who’s this?”

She blushed a little, giving Luke a little shrug as he connected the dots with the matching costumes. She could hardly think with Rafe’s arms around her, the subtle smell of his cologne overwhelming her senses. (And she swore his hand grazed across her chest in the hug, but maybe that was her mind just making things up.) “This is Luke, my...um…”

“Friend.” Luke supplied helpfully, extended a hand toward Rafe with an overly friendly, slightly forced smile.

Rafe smirked and reached out to shake his hand, but kept one arm wrapped around Sophie. “Rafe. Nice to meet you.”

Luke paused, then nodded as he puffed up his chest a little, not nearly reaching Rafe’s height. “You too.” He directed his next question to Sophie, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like being called Soph?”

She simply shrugged. “Only by a few close friends.”

“Right.” He nodded again, eyeing Rafe and Sophie’s embrace with clear confusion. “How long have you two been…?”

“Oh, we’re -”

“A while.” Rafe cut her off, keeping it just vague enough so she wouldn’t be caught in a lie, not knowing when exactly she broke up with Luke.

“Oh. Okay.” Luke frowned slightly. “I’ll see you around, Sophie.”

He made a quick exit, and Sophie had to stop herself from closing her eyes and dropping her head back onto Rafe’s shoulder as she relaxed.

“Who is that really?” Rafe inquired, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke, not letting her go.

After a moment, she turned to face him, loosening his grip on her just slightly. “My ex. But we’re friends now I guess, we only dated freshman year. He’s a good guy.”

“Oh.” Rafe nodded. “Sorry, you just seemed -”

“Bored?” She asked, amused.

He laughed and reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. That gesture alone was enough to make her melt. “Yeah, a little. Why’d you break up?”

She shrugged. “He was too nice.”

He chuckled and dropped his hands from her waist, stuffing them in his back pockets. “Always seeking out the mean guys, huh?”

“Nah.” She grinned, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Just like the ones that’ll fight with me.” With that she turned away, leaving him alone as she returned to her circle of friends.

Late in the night, Sophie was a handful of drinks in - just enough to let her guard down. Rafe was the same, but he kept a watchful eye toward Sophie throughout the party.

“He keeps looking over here.” Allie grinned, nodding her head in Rafe’s direction.

Sophie kept her back to him but beamed, hiding a smile with a sip of her drink. “I know. I can feel it.”

Julia glanced over and caught Rafe’s eye, then waved with a knowing grin. He smiled back but ducked his head away as he was caught.

“Jules!” Allie scolded teasingly, grabbing her hand and pulling it down.

Sophie just laughed, feeling warm and bubbly from the drinks and multiple birthday wishes from friends throughout the night. “Let him stare, I don’t mind.”

“Your man’s got someone else on him.” Julia pointed out, glancing over again.

Sophie wrinkled her nose just slightly. “Hm. He’s not my man, per se.”

Allie looked over too, eyebrows raising. “Yeah? He really won’t be if this girl keeps up whatever she’s doing.” A girl was hanging off of Rafe’s arm, obviously flirting hard with him while he entertained polite conversation.

“You guys really shouldn’t encourage this when I am definitely not sober.” Sophie complained, tipping back the rest of her drink and scowling at the burn.

“Well we’re not sober either, so.” Julia placed her hands on Sophie’s shoulders, turning her in Rafe’s direction and giving her a small shove forward. Sophie tried her best not to visibly react as the girl started twirling her hair, pouting when Rafe dodged her attempted kiss on his cheek.

“Hm. That’s...interesting.” Sophie mused, suddenly getting nervous and turned back. “I need another drink.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Allie grabbed Sophie’s arm, dragging her back. “One more and you’re not gonna walk straight.”

“That doesn’t sound like an issue.” Sophie pointed out, crossing her arms as she looked over at Rafe. He caught her eye and raised his eyebrows, mouthing help with a teasing smirk when the girl on his arm placed her hand on his chest. That was the confidence boost she needed to stroll across the room, pausing just a few steps from him.

She cleared her throat and the girl leaning on Rafe glanced back, suddenly straightening up and stepping away as she saw Sophie and Rafe’s matching costumes. “Sorry, I didn’t know you two were together.” She giggled, still batting her eyelashes at Rafe.

Sophie rolled her eyes, coming close and curling her arm around Rafe’s bicep, greeting him with a territorial kiss on the cheek that was a little too close to the corner of his lips. “C’mon Cameron, we need to talk.” Sophie told him, dragging him away and up the stairs, away from the noise.

He grinned and followed along easily. “You jealous, Soph?” He teased, stepping close once they made it upstairs. She swallowed, pressing her hand against his chest to keep just enough distance.

“Of course I’m jealous, don’t be dense.” She retorted.

“You - what?” He furrowed his brow, not expecting that reply.

She let out a dramatic sigh, starting to pace as she avoided eye contact. “God, Rafe, I’ve been trying to show you for weeks now how much I really like you, like it scares me how much I like you, and you can’t pick up on a single hint -”

Rafe was grinning ear to ear now, amused as she kept going on. “Soph.” He tried interrupting.

She spun on her heel - too quickly, having to grab his arm for stability - and pointed her finger in his face. “No, shut up, let me talk. It’s your stupid smirk that drives me crazy and I don’t know why but there’s something about your hands that I’m really drawn to, and most days I can’t tell if I want to shove you or make out with you,” she paused to take a breath and Rafe took his opportunity, leaning closer.

“Sophie.” His voice was firmer now, catching her attention.

“What.” She huffed, keeping her grip on his arm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wait - what?”

taglist: @obx-saltlife @dontjinx-it @butgilinsky @oopsiedoopsie23 @taiter-tots @annedub @alexandracheers

#is it necessary to use a picture every time? no #i just love his hands #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron series #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine #obx fanfic #college obx

156 notes · View notes

killian-whump · 3 years

Text

Game Night! [Liveblog #1]

Alright folks! There’s been a lot of to-do over the last couple days over this video... a lot of debate over paid content and whether folks have $10 or not and whether it’s worth $10 or not and who paid what for who to see it and why can’t we all just get along and what the hell are blobs, anyway?

Long story short, this video has proven rather difficult to rip from the site in order for us poor folks to share the video amongst ourselves so everyone can enjoy it... so I’m going to attempt to liveblog it in a fun, animated way that will (hopefully) let you all sort of enjoy it along with me. ‘Cos I paid ten fucking dollars to make sure everyone could enjoy it, and I’m going to make you all enjoy it somehow even if I have to make you a post like this.

Note: I don’t want any bitchy asks about how terrible it is for me to “ruin” the exclusivity of paid content or whatever. I’m a pirate. If I could, I’d rip the fucking thing off the website and send it to every person I know who doesn’t have $10 to spare or a credit card to use. So don’t waste your breath trying to shame me for making this post - I do not care.

Without further ado... LET’S ENJOY SOME CUTE COLIN CONTENT.

Okay... Here we go. I have to admit, Josh has a cute, professional-looking intro for his little channel/show here. I mean, it’s still a zoom call he recorded. But the intro looks professional.

Anyway... Josh is now introducing the show, and he makes a joke about his celebrity friends... or fake friends... or sort of friends... and then says, “We’re real friends, right Sam?” and Sam’s like, “No.” and Colin goes:

I DIDN’T EVEN MEAN FOR THAT TO LOOP PERFECTLY, GUYS, IT JUST DOES - and I feel like this is a fortuitous start to our journey.

Oh, there’s also some nice upbeat jazzy sort of music here, so you can play some while you read this post, that’s probably a good idea.

Now we have bagpipes as Josh introduces Sam...

HAHA, Josh introduces Colin: “He’s probably too classy to be here, but he’s also too kind to say no to me... You know him from Once Upon a Time and The Right Stuff: It’s Colin O’Donoghue.” Colin waves and Josh goes, “hey buddy” like he’s talking to a puppy, because he basically is, and Colin goes, “Hi Josh.”

Josh: Colin, is that the first time you’ve been called classy? Do I have you pegged wrong? Colin: It’s probably the first, and I suspect will be the only time I’ll be called classy.

I have to take a moment here to say that Colin still has a crap camera, lol. He sounds like he’s phoning in from a tin can under the sea, and his picture’s already broken up a couple times. Like, if my $10 went towards buying Colin a new webcam, I wouldn’t mind it. I’M JUST SAYING.

Now we’re talking about the trash-talking capabilities of the group... and Kat says something, Sam says he can’t hear what she said, and Colin says he can’t hear anything. I take back the nice things I said about the professionalism of the intro, like please, can we do a sound check 😭

Topic moves on to fandom overlaps... Kat says something about how they all wield swords on TV, so people who enjoy that would probably enjoy all of their shows. Sam nods thoughtfully and shakes his head a little as she speaks, and Colin looks frozen in time with a neutral smile on, in a way that makes me pretty sure neither of them heard a goddamn word of what she said. Josh repeated the bit about sword-wielding, and now the guys are chuckling and talking swords. Sam informs Josh that he doesn’t wield a sword, but at least he has a plant.

And it’s game time! We’re starting with Would You Rather...

We’ve got an animated intro... and then some sparkles and pictures to illustrate the questions, which all seems rather superfluous when we paid $10 to look at celebrities, but whatever, I mean, it’s his show.

First question: Would you rather hear dogs’ thoughts or your significant other’s thoughts? Colin says dogs. Josh asks why, and Colin laughs as he says “I suspect I know them, and I really don’t think... I really don’t think I want to know them sometimes.” He also says he has a dog, and he’d like to know what he’s thinking half the time. Sam says dogs, as well, because “they’re gonna be way more interesting than your partner” and this greatly amuses Colin.

(By the way, I’m using a GIF program with a screen recording function to make these GIFs. It’s not a viable method for recording the whole thing, but it works good for GIFs :))

Second Question: Would you rather have the body of The Rock with your face? Or the face of The Rock with your body? Kat answers, and then Josh says, “Colin you had something?” and Colin goes, “I didn’t really have something” because he didn’t really have something. He says it’s a real Catch-22, and takes a minute, but finally goes with “the body of The Rock... with my head on it, I guess.” Sam agrees, and there’s some chat about how awesome The Rock is. Colin also said The Rock has an amazing body.

Third Question: Would you rather always be naked or always be wearing the most embarrassing, uncomfortable costume you’ve ever worn? Josh shared a snippet of this part on his Twitter and Colin re-tweeted it, so you can actually see this part. Sam says he can’t stop thinking of when he wore Colin’s costume... and Colin’s having fun playing offended :D Kat answers and then Colin says his worst costume was when he had to wear just a pair of Y-fronts (he’s talking about when he did the play Outlying Islands), so he might as well pick being naked, and I’m feeling a little better about that $10 I spent if he’s gonna go on saying things like that and then making faces like this:

Bahahaha, Colin shares that the Y-fronts “had been stained for the production” 😂 Kat’s giving him two thumbs up and Josh intones, “The glamorous world you guys inhabit.”

Fourth Question: Would you rather have a mouth full of bees or one bee in your butt? 😂 “I’d probably have a bee in my butt,” Colin O’Donoghue states, after giving this very serious question a very serious moment of thought. Meanwhile, your fearless liveblogging friend had to rewind a couple times here, due to the sheer force of her laughter. Everyone looks flummoxed. This appears to be a real dilemma. Josh tells us that this (the bee in the butt) seems to be the common consensus, and that this is what Sam answered when Josh had asked him this question previously. “And how did that work out?” Sam asks. Josh says he doesn’t know and, “Have you tried it out?” “It’s still in there,” Sam says. Kat agrees with the ‘bee in the butt’ consensus, I’m pretty sure Colin and Sam still can’t hear her, and Josh thanks them for giving that question the intelligence it doesn’t deserve.

And that’s it for Would You Rather?! And this seems like a good spot to take a break and maybe have a beverage and post this bad boy, so you guys can start having fun too - and so I don’t end up with TOO long of a single post :)

As always, you can use any GIFs/caps in here however you like :)

Here’s a handy link to go on to PART TWO...

#colin o'donoghue #game night #liveblog

25 notes · View notes

goulets · 3 years

Text

Heartland

Chapter: 3/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas Rating: T (for now) Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

The library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to the baby. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for her one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

***

(dick)

Venice is a nightclub that has gone by many names during its Gotham tenure, and just as many owners. Dick has been undercover here at least twice, back when the club was catering to the wealthier patrons of Little Italy. The current management clearly hasn’t bothered with maintaining that exclusivity - the building is now shabby and outdated, even for this neighborhood. One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the real draw of Venice, which is the illegal casino in the back rooms beyond the VIP lounge. Through all the club’s owners, the casino has always been run by the Falcones, and always frequented by the city’s most morally flexible elected officials. In the past four nights that Dick’s been staking the place out, he’s seen five judges, two city council members, and even the new police commissioner slipping out the back door into the alley, stinking of gin and cigar smoke and patting their coat pockets with an air of satisfaction. It’s good intel to have, Barbara’s told him. Always helpful to keep the files updated on who’s being bought and by whom. None of that really makes him feel better about the fact that he’s been staking this place out for four nights and still hasn’t managed to pin down their actual target.

It’s embarrassing, is what it is. He’s Nightwing, for God’s sake. He’s taken down whole Russian mobs in Bludhaven, and now he’s being completely eluded by a third-string Falcone no one’s even heard of.

Oracle had ID’d the doer of the Torres/Howard murders in a matter of hours, true to her word, and the ballistics had predictably matched up with a few other murders that the police never bothered investigating. Susanna “Susie” Falcone, a second cousin once removed with a rap sheet that puts many of her relatives to shame. Her name must still have some pull in political circles, because she’s only done time once, in spite of being indicted almost a dozen times. Gotta love good old fashioned judicial corruption, Jason had said. No one had been able to argue, looking at the number of charges dismissed.

All in all, it was supposed to be a fairly simple tag-and-bag. Once they’d found her place of work - officially, the Venice nightclub, unofficially, the family casino - he’d been tasked to track her, question her, and then turn her in to the police. He’d chosen his stakeout perch well, on a hotel roof high above the alley, he’d followed her, unseen, and so far, she’s given him the slip every freaking time. The woman has vanished through every doorway from here to Robinson Park, as only the most enterprising criminal can. Were this a different kind of case, Dick might have been impressed.

Instead, he’s annoyed, and having to compromise - his vantage point is lower, closer but more exposed in the thin shadows of a third story construction platform right above the alley. He can see the door to the club without any difficulty, but the moment he moves, he’ll be open to attack.

He’ll just have to move fast. Fortunately, that’s what he’s best at.

There’s a soft motion behind him, almost quiet enough to escape his notice entirely. It’s Jason - Dick hadn’t expected him to actually turn up. No doubt he’s here to make sure they finally succeed in catching their mark tonight, but he’s been so adamant about not leaving Danielle with anyone except Dick that it’s still a surprise to see him. What’s equally surprising to Dick is that he was apparently hoping Jason would show, if the relief he feels at seeing him is anything to go by.

It’s a nice moment of solidarity, until Jason opens his mouth. “So, fourth night’s a charm, huh?”

Dick bristles. “What happened to not leaving the baby?” he retorts.

Jason bristles back, but doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s a little wrongfooting - a reminder that things are changing between them. Dick is used to the veneer of antagonism that hangs over his relationship with Jason, the unresolved tension they both pretend not to notice. They’d gotten into a pretty good groove when he was acting as Batman, staying out of each others’ way for the most part, and working together when necessary. Dick’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t actually harbor any murderous feelings towards him, just like he doesn’t actually hate Bruce, no matter what he says.

“The girls and Alfred ganged up on me,” Jason says, leaning back against the scaffolding. “Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there anyways. I don’t know how you stand being around them all so much.”

Dick laughs. “They’re not as interested in me,” he admits. “I’m not the cool sibling.”

Jason doesn’t respond right away. It's hard for Dick to tell, when he’s wearing the helmet, but he thinks Jason is probably waiting to see if Dick is joking. It’s another way things have shifted between them - Jason’s holding back, not jumping straight to lashing out, like he used to. It should be a good thing - it is a good thing, but it’s throwing him off balance all the same. He feels like he's spent most of the past several days looking for Jason, even when Jason is right in front of him. He’s used to trying to find the Jason he knows - or knew - the Jason who was taken away from him. Now there’s a new Jason, a Jason he’s still getting to know. Dick can’t choose between them, can’t decide which one he wants to find every time he looks at him. Maybe that’s why he can’t seem to find his one lousy mafia shooter.

“Looks like the cops are covering up the ballistics report on Reynolds,” Jason says, after a moment. “Go figure.”

Dick frowns. “Just Reynolds?”

Jason grunts. “Hold on. What.”

Dick turns to look at him.

“Did you burp her?”

Oh, Dick realizes, he’s on the comm. Someone back at the Manor must have pinged him on a private line.

“Then get Alfred to do it.”

It’s curious that the ballistics on Cy Reynolds’ murder are the ones being suppressed, Dick thinks. He was the only one killed with a submachine gun - the bullets from most of the other crime scenes had come from a standard Beretta APX, and the object of his stakeout, Susie Falcone, had used a Glock on Danielle’s parents. The Glock matched a few other shootings, the Beretta matched none. None of that is particularly noteworthy - after all, Susie is a criminal, and Beretta shell casings are a dime a dozen at any mob shooting.

“Fine. I’ll check back in five. If you asswipes don’t pick up, I’m coming back there.” Jason makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, which Dick takes to mean he’s hung up.

“Everything OK?”

“Just peachy. By some cosmic fucking joke, I’m the only person in the family who can get the baby to take a damn bottle. I told her they just need to burp her, but I guess that’s too complicated a task for a family of genius detectives,” Jason grumbles. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her. Shit.”

“Jay, relax. She’s fine.” Dick can’t help but grin at him. It’s honestly sweet, the way Jason and the baby have gotten attached to each other. Dick likes to think he’s her second favorite, but it’s pretty hard to tell. No matter who’s holding her, she’s always looking at Jason, and Jason never stops looking at her.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Jason says mulishly.

Dick raises an eyebrow. “I noticed. It’s April, not August. If you really want to go back, I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I don’t…” Jason sighs. “Look, I’m here, okay? You bungled this grade school op three nights in a row, so congrats, you triggered the bat buddy system. If I leave and you fuck it up again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dick supposes it’s his turn not to rise to the bait. “Fair enough,” he says easily, turning around to face the alleyway again. “What were you saying about the ballistics on Reynolds?”

“Oh, Oracle ran the bullets through Interpol. Turns out our ill-fated gang boss was offed by one of Carmine Falcone’s personal weapons. The record’s been scrubbed from US databases, but Babs had a hunch.” Jason sounds impressed.

“Been scrubbed meaning...there was a record,” Dick follows, “and some people might still remember, if they saw the bullets. Hence the coverup.”

“Yup. Hence the coverup.”

“Could explain what the commissioner was doing here the other night,” Dick muses.

Jason snorts derisively. “See, this is what I hate about the mafia. They’re so goddamn predictable. Kill the competition, pay off the cops, around and around forever. It’s so pedestrian.”

Dick laughs. “You’d rather deal with Clayface?”

“Fuck yes I would. Clayface has flair, you know? Anybody can be a mobster, shit.”

Jason has started shifting with agitation, or maybe impatience. Either way, their vantage spot isn’t hidden enough for him to be moving around. “Get low if you’re gonna be twitchy,” Dick tells him. “Or if you’re gonna have a cigarette, but I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Lucky for you I quit then,” Jason says, crouching down next to him. “I’m not jonesing, I’m just fucking cold.”

“We could huddle together for warmth,” Dick jokes, grinning unabashedly when Jason’s helmet fixes him with a death glare. “Wait, you quit smoking? When?”

“When I started taking care of a baby, obviously.” Jason goes still, suddenly. “Is that her?”

The door to the alleyway opens, and they both tense - but it’s just a man, a bodyguard, by the looks of him. Close-cropped blonde hair, early 40s, used to throwing his weight around. Feeling there’s something familiar about him, Dick nudges Jason and motions for him to take a photo. Jason starts almost imperceptibly at the contact, but follows suit. They both hold perfectly still in the shadows as the man looks around, glances in a cursory way along the rooftops, and then sets off down the alley towards the street.

“I know him,” Jason mutters. “From Tim’s case files - he was with Intergang.”

Dick doesn’t say anything about Jason calling Tim by name, but it’s a welcome development. “Looks like he switched sides, if he’s hanging out here.”

“Wonderful,” Jason says. “All right, I’m gonna check on the kid again.”

Dick represses the urge to give him a shoulder squeeze, or ruffle his hair. It’d probably result in him getting shoved off the platform, but Jason’s being so....not different, because Dick’s always known that this Jason was still in him, somewhere. Always hoped, anyways. When Jason had been younger and acted like this, surly with his words but tender with his actions, Dick had always thought of him as cute. It’s like that now, too, except it’s not just cute, because Jason has several inches and at least two weight classes on him. It’s cute in a different way, an adult way. It’s cute in a way that makes Dick want to push harder against Jason’s armor, to catch as many glimpses of that side of him as he can. If he thinks about it too long, it’s cute in a way that makes him want, recklessly.

“Red Hood to Batgirl,” Jason says. He’s calling on the family line this time. “Give me an update.”

“You’re seriously a helicopter parent, you know that, Hood?” Steph laughs in Dick’s ear. “We figured it out. Well...Black Bat figured it out.”

Jason’s shoulders sag a little in relief. Cute, Dick thinks, involuntarily. He needs to get a grip. “About fucking time.”

“She prefers being propped up,” Cass says. “It helps her swallow.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. And she likes her back straight.”

“You said none of that, actually,” Steph says. “You just told us to support her head. Which we have been, thank you very much.”

“You have her now?”

“Robin has her.”

Dick and Jason look at each other. Jason says, “What the fuck?”

“Right?” Steph sounds amused. “I was surprised too....his friend is here, that ginger kid? He’s the one that took her from the orphanage, right?”

“Batgirl, I swear to god, if anything happens to her - ”

“Oh, calm down, jeez,” Steph groans. “They’re being supervised, okay? It’s honestly precious, you would agree with me if you could see it. I’ll text the pictures to N.”

“Please do,” Dick says. Speaking of cute, in a way that’s much safer to think about.

“Go do your job now,” Cass tells them. “We’re handling it.”

“Yeah, what she said. Batgirls out.”

“Feel better?” Dick asks, after a moment.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jason grouses. “And show me those pictures when you get them.”

Dick grins. “Sure, Jay.”

“Ugh.”

Dick decides to change the subject, before Jason gets too antsy and tries to bail. “So how do you want to play this, when Susie shows?”

Jason points to a dumpster halfway down the alley. “We wait until she’s there. I’ll get the club door, put a taser on it to stop her getting back in or anyone else from coming out. You cut her off before she gets to the street, and we question her on the backside of the dumpster. I’ll take line of sight, since I’m packing.”

Dick nods. “So is she.”

“So is every goon in those back rooms, sure. That’s why we lock their asses in.”

“And if they come out the front?”

Jason spins a gun in his hand. “Rubber bullets do the job just fine if you know how to aim. Let me worry about the backup.”

Another thing that’s changed about Jason - or that hasn’t changed, depending on how far back Dick looks. He uses rubber bullets now, whenever he’s working a case with one of them. Supposedly it’s a stipulation from Bruce, but Jason didn’t use lethal force on the couple cases he and Dick worked together, either, back when Dick was wearing the cowl. Dick thinks Bruce just gave him an excuse - whatever bloodlust Jason was fueled by when he first came back to Gotham has long since dried up. There are still things that set him off - Barbara had informed them about a dead rapist in the Narrows just last month - but Bruce hadn’t even commented on it, besides the barest acknowledgment. Dick thinks he might be the only one that actually cares when Jason kills someone, anymore. And what’s really disturbing is that he’s not actually sure how much he cares. For instance, he knows Jason has a third gun, holstered under his jacket, loaded with live ammo. He could call Jason out on it, insist he ditch it or at the very least unload it.

He says nothing. Let me worry about the backup. If this mission ends in a massacre, Dick will only have himself to blame.

The door opens again, and out steps Susie Falcone.

She immediately looks around, staying still in the doorway for a minute or more. Dick is pretty sure she hasn’t seen him following her, but he’s familiar with the sensation of being watched. He and Jason both shrink further into the shadows, waiting for her to make a move.

The whole process takes about six seconds. The moment she gets a few paces into the alley, they drop down. Jason electrifies the door handle, and Dick outmaneuvers her easily, slapping his police-issue cuffs on her and kicking her gun aside, then spinning her into the wall behind the dumpster. She hits it with a grunt. By the time she’s glaring at him, Jason is at his side again.

“Nightwing and Red Hood?” she says. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you fellas out here.”

She doesn’t seem scared of them. Dick guesses they’ll have backup coming their way soon.

“Hey, what do you know,” Jason says conversationally, picking up the gun and emptying the clip in one swift motion. “Nightwing, I do believe this is our Glock.”

“Not mine,” Susie objects. “Picked it up off the club floor.”

“Come on, Susie, you’re smarter than that.” Jason crosses his arms. “Look, I can appreciate a sensible weapon. The Berettas the rest of your family favors? Too flashy for me. I loved Sopranos as much as the next guy, but come on.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. “Thought you were a Sig man,” he says in an undertone. He hadn’t expected Jason to take the lead, but it’s working. Susie looks agitated at the mention of her family.

“Wow, stalker. Remind me to move safe houses,” Jason quips back. “Aw, look, she slipped your cuffs.”

There’s a taser in Susie’s newly freed hand, and Dick quickly sidesteps it, twists it out of her wrist and sends it clattering down the cobblestones of the alley. Jason sweeps her legs out from under her and knocks her down flat, maybe a little harder than Dick would’ve. Thankfully, she goes down without a fight.

“Let’s try this again,” Dick says, kneeling next to her and zip-tying her wrists. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now - she was expecting them. They won’t be alone for long. He throws a couple smoke pellets down to the ends of the alley, and clips a nearly invisible wireless mic to the shoelaces of her boot under the guise of patting her down.

“You’re obviously not surprised to see us, so just tell us what we want to know,” Jason tells her, squatting down. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a shit that you shot Big Mouth, but what did Linda Torres ever do to you?”

“Let me up,” Susie snarls.

“No. Talk, or I’ll give you a taste of that taser you tried to pull on us.”

“Hood,” Dick hisses.

“See? He knows I’ll do it. Save yourself the grief, Susie.” Jason points the barrel of his gun lazily at her temple.

Susie narrows her eyes. “Fine. The two of them robbed me, last September. Dumb motherfuckers didn’t know who they were messing with. But I let them live because the bitch was pregnant.”

Jason makes a noise of disbelief. “Oh, sure. You’re a real bleeding heart, is that it?”

“Like you’re any better,” Susie fires back.

“You said you waited on Linda because she was pregnant,” Dick says. “Why’d you wait to kill Big Mouth?”

Susie’s mouth twists. “Guess I just felt like it.” Dick doesn’t need to see the tension in her shoulders to know she’s lying.

“Strike two.” Jason clicks the safety off. “Who put the hits out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Susie answers. “I’m dead if I talk, so pistol whip me if you want to. Here’s the God’s honest truth: I really didn’t need a reason to kill those assholes. I was out for ‘em anyways. But I’m not crazy enough to kill a baby, all right? I don’t need shit like that on my conscience.”

“Keep talking,” Jason growls. Dick hears the whoop of a siren a few blocks off. “Where’s the baby now?”

“Somewhere safe, I swear. If anybody comes for her, it won’t be me.”

Susie still thinks Danielle’s at the orphanage, then. That’s good for them, but potentially bad for all the other kids, Colin included. These guys clearly have no problem killing children, even if Susie won’t do it.

The sirens are getting closer. Someone inside must’ve called the cops. Dick motions to Jason, indicating they need to wrap things up.

“Who is coming for her,” Jason barks, every line of his body a threat. “You’ve got five seconds.”

“You don’t.” Susie looks triumphant. They can hear the shouts of police from behind the smoke. “But don’t worry, boys. You’ll find out who really runs this town soon enough.”

“Hood,” Dick mutters. “We need to go, cops in this neighborhood aren’t cape-friendly.”

Jason stands, visibly enraged, and for a moment Dick thinks he’ll shoot Susie anyways. He’s prepared to move - but then Jason pulls out his grapple, fires, and flies up onto the roof.

“Talk about a bleeding heart,” Susie says to Dick. “He have kids or something?”

Dick doesn’t like her tone of voice at all. She’s too relaxed, too unconcerned about being under arrest. She won’t stay in long.

“It’s Nightwing! Get your hands up!”

Dick obliges, ready to pull his escrima sticks.

Three police officers come through the smoke, weapons drawn. “You better have a damn good reason for being this far out of Bludhaven,” one of them shouts at Dick.

“Sure do!” Dick calls back. “Arrested a murderer for you, no need to thank me!”

“Shut up,” a different officer retorts. “Keep your hands up, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Jason mutters over the comm. “I’m throwing you an escape, we’ll recon on the library roof. Stop being so goddamn chatty.”

One smoke pellet later, Dick is three rooftops away and flying. He gets to the library before Jason, exhilarated as ever from a good run.

Jason drops down next to him after a minute or so, laughing when he gets a look at Dick’s smile. “Running from the cops still does it for you, huh?”

Dick elbows him, momentarily forgetting to keep his distance. “Doesn’t it for you?”

Surprisingly, Jason doesn’t move away. “Usually they’re shooting at me, so.”

Dick leans closer, testing. “So…yes?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jason says, but he lets Dick nudge his shoulder, bump their arms together. He’s so solid, Dick thinks. So big. More like Bruce than any of them.

“So, how fast do you think she’ll get out?” he asks, when Jason stays quiet.

“Fucking tomorrow, probably,” Jason sighs. “Next week if we’re lucky.”

“Sounds like she didn’t know about Danielle, at least.”

“She’s not the problem,” Jason says, shrugging Dick off and standing back up. “Falcones will blow up the whole orphanage if they get wind of it. We need to put them down first.”

“We need to find out who’s in charge,” Dick agrees. “I planted a mic on her shoe. In the laces. Hopefully she won’t find it for a few days.”

“Good thinking,” Jason nods. “You gonna keep patrolling?”

“Might as well,” Dick says, standing up next to him and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m still stiff from that stakeout, I need to move.”

Jason’s gone quiet again. Dick thinks he hears his breath catch, but the helmet muffles it enough that it could be a yawn.

“You’re going back to the manor?”

Jason groans. “Fuck my life, yes.”

“You miss her, huh.” Cute, his brain chants.

Jason doesn’t answer, but Dick has a feeling he’s getting the stink-eye.

“I miss her too,” Dick offers. “It’s okay.”

Jason sighs. “Dick…”

“It’s a good thing, Jay. You care about her! We all do,” Dick adds, seeing the rigidity in Jason’s posture. “I mean, you’re practically her parent right now. Of course you miss her.”

“...Don’t say it like that.” Jason’s voice is low, almost pained, and Dick knows he pushed too far. “Like…like I have a right to, okay, just. Don’t.”

“Jason, wait,” Dick starts, but he doesn’t get to finish. Without a backward glance, Jason fires off a line to the neighboring building, and then he’s gone.

***

(tim)

The docks are quiet, unsettlingly so, as Tim prowls around the towers of shipping containers, keeping to the deep shadows they cast along the chipped pavement. It’s overcast, so there’s no moonlight to expose him, but it’s also too dark to see which of the trucks and campers parked all over are occupied, which ones might suddenly turn their headlights on him and catch him out.

One truck in particular - an innocuous looking Isuzu with a stunningly weaponized interior, is the object of his search. The driver, Felipe, is one of Tim’s best informants within Intergang - or had been, prior to the upheaval. Tim’s reasonably sure that Felipe is too lowly a grunt to make an example of, but still, he’s concerned that he hasn’t heard from him in a few days.

As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. He finds Felipe a hundred yard away from his truck, taking a piss off the wharf. He lets himself into the passenger side of the truck, and immediately notes that it is packed. There’s hardly a spare inch in the back, and Tim has a tough time even getting into the passenger seat with all the bags, clothes, and blankets stuffed into it. He pushes the majority of it to the floor, and waits.

Felipe comes back a few moments later. He opens the door and starts, eyes going wide when he sees Tim, but Tim puts his finger to his lips and motions for Felipe to get in so they can talk.

“Red Robin,” Felipe says, once the door is closed. He looks even more shaken than usual. “What the fuck, man?”

Tim crosses his arms. “You tell me, Felipe. You’ve been dodging my calls for days, and now I find out you’re skipping town?”

“I ditched that phone, man. Boss Reynolds had my number in there, you know? Ditched it as soon as I heard about him. I wasn’t trying to ghost you, honest.”

“Relax,” Tim tells him. “I’m not mad. I’d dodge me, too. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll shadow you out of town. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Shit, man,” Felipe sighs. “Okay, look. There’s shit I can’t tell you, not if I ever want to hench again. You gotta figure that all out yourself, yeah?”

Tim shrugs. “Fine.”

Felipe swallows. “It started last week when Boss Reynolds met with somebody - I don’t know his name, God as my witness, but from what I heard, ‘cause I was unloading some of that funky alien tech, and you know Boss Reynolds wanted to supervise that personally - anyways, this guy in a suit took a meeting with him, and it sounded like he was offering Boss Reynolds a job. Said he had a new operation, bigger than Intergang, bigger than anything Gotham’s seen in a while.”

“Did Reynolds believe him?”

“Nah, he told him to get lost. They had some words, and then everybody started pulling guns, and I went back to the ship so I didn’t get fuckin’ shot, but I didn’t hear anything after that. Next thing I saw, Boss Reynolds was calling his son up and telling him to demo some building down by the old boardwalk - a hotel, maybe. Guess he wanted to expand that way, I don’t know.”

“That was the old Falcone hotel,” Tim says, mostly just to see Felipe’s reaction. He isn’t disappointed - Felipe goes pale, and his eyes flash to the rosary hanging off his rearview mirror. Tim likes Felipe as an informant because he’s nosy, shockingly competent for a henchman, and because he really likes to gossip. He’s never held back on Tim before this.

“Few days later, one of ours, this merc named Tiberius, comes down to the warehouse and says he’s got something to show us. Takes out a fat fuckin’ folder full of pictures…man, it was some sick shit. Boss Reynolds, his wife, Reynolds Jr, and every fuckin’ guy under him. Kids, man. He just passed it around, made everyone look at it. Then he says, we can either be in the folder, or we can come meet the new boss.”

Felipe takes a shaky breath. “Obviously I go with Tiberius, like everyone else. I heard a couple guys stayed on the ship that was docked, thinking they’d wait ‘em out, but the new boss blew it up. Says we’re not in the tech business anymore, and anyone caught trying to smuggle it is gonna get tied to it and tossed in the harbor. You can imagine my concerns,” he says, gesturing to his truck. Tim estimates half or more of the weapons in it are salvaged from alien junk. Roy Harper would have a field day with the setup this guy’s made for himself.

“So that’s why you’re bailing,” Tim says, understanding. He can hardly blame the guy. “Why not just hide the truck somewhere?”

“Well…I did think about that,” Felipe admits. “Tiberius made us a pretty sweet pitch, once we went along with him. Not gonna lie, I was tempted. Tech is my thing, you know, but I can make a gun out of pretty much anything. I could see the possibilities, is what I’m saying, but that was before we met the new boss.”

Tim nods encouragingly. This is what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Listen, Red Robin - I know we’ve had our differences, but I respect you, man, you know that. You’ve been good to me, so I’m gonna give you some advice here. Stay the hell away from the new boss. Like, don’t even get involved. I’ve been henching for a while, and I’ve seen some messed up shit, but they are crazy. Está loca, you feel me? I’ve seen the hit list, and you’re right at the top of it. You and all the other capes. Half of Arkham, too. And they’re connected, like you wouldn’t believe. Shit, I’m already saying too much, man. You see the position I’m in here?”

“I do, Felipe,” Tim tells him. He hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills, their agreed-upon rate for information. “Where are you going?”

“You’re crazy too, if you think I’m telling you that,” Felipe scoffs.

Tim wasn’t expecting a straight answer anyways. “Fair enough. You heading out now?”

“Soon as you get the hell outta my car, yeah. You said you’d shadow me out?”

“I will,” Tim says. “From a distance. If you don’t see me, it means you’re clear to cross the bridge.”

“All right,” Felipe nods. “In that case, I hope I never see your ass again.”

Tim laughs, and climbs out of the truck.

He finds his own way out of the shipyard, pulls a bike out of a safe house, and catches up with Felipe’s GPS signal halfway to the Fashion District. Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he calls Barbara.

“Red Robin to Oracle. I’m uploading a recording to the server.”

Barbara is in his ear at once. “You met with your informant?”

“He wouldn’t give me a name, but he let a couple things slip.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she says.

“First, he flinched hard when I brought up the Falcone name.”

“Confirms what we already know,” Barbara says. “Good. There’s more?”

“There’s more.” Tim tries not to gloat. This is, after all, a serious situation. “He was being cagey about mentioning the leader’s gender, so I was already suspicious, but then said ‘está loca’ when he was trying to warn me.”

Barbara whistles. “Well,” she says, sounding satisfied. “That’ll certainly narrow it down.”

“Yep,” Tim says grimly. “Looks like the new head of the Falcone family is a woman.”

***

(jason)

When Jason was Robin, the library had always been his favorite room in the Manor. It had spoken easily to his idea of what wealth was - rich people had fancy cars, sure, and maybe pools and expensive wardrobes, but wealthy people had art collections, and gardens, and libraries. Jason had spent hours upon hours browsing the shelves, reading anything he could wrap his brain around (and plenty of things he couldn’t), suggesting additions to Alfred, and avoiding his schoolwork in favor of learning about more interesting things, like string theory, or cryptology, or chemical warfare.

That was then.

Now, the library is the only place he can get a minute of peace from the constant barrage of his obnoxious, nosy, boundaryless family members. They’ve been characteristically persistent in their curiosity about him, and about Danielle, who is now Dani, courtesy of Stephanie. This is a nickname family, she’d said, and Jason hadn’t known how to disagree. So now she’s Dani, and Jason is family, and that apparently means he is no longer entitled to any privacy, or personal space for that matter. The only person who hasn’t barged in on him is Bruce, which is almost worse, in a way, because it’s one thing when nobody seeks him out, and it’s quite another when everyone does and then Bruce...doesn’t. Not that he wants Bruce to come up and bother him, God. But he’s in the man’s house, he’s hearing him on the comm constantly either on patrol or down in the cave, and all the other Bat brats and even Alfred are buzzing around him like flies. It’s too much - it feels like before, except for Bruce’s conspicuous absence reminding him that it’s not.

Sharing a bathroom with Dick is another before experience that Jason didn’t need a repeat of. In some ways, it was worse when he was Robin - stripping and showering after patrol in the cave with Dick a few feet away from him is a memory he really wouldn’t have minded leaving back in the Pit - and in other ways, it’s worse now, because Dick is always freaking around. There’s no reprieve, he’s not flitting off to the Titans every week like he used to be. Jason hasn’t gone half a day without Dick getting in his space, drawing up close to him and making that earnest eye contact he’s so annoyingly good at; sometimes wet, sometimes half-naked, sometimes both. And what can Jason do? He’s not going to leave Dani, and he needs Dick to be there so he can get some sleep every once in a while, or patrol, or shower. It’s actually been pretty helpful to have him around, in that regard, but if he has to see the guy walking around with bedhead and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs on one more time, he’s going to fucking explode.

So, the library has its benefits: no harassment from over-familiar family members, no Dick sexually frustrating him within an inch of his life, and, if he’s willing to be a little sentimental, he kind of does want to show it to Dani. She’s too young to appreciate it, probably, but it stirs something in him to share it with her all the same. He’s heard it’s never too early to get kids into reading - his parents sure as hell never tried, but Jason had read anything he could get his hands on, once he learned how. It had saved him, back then. Maybe it can do the same for Dani one day.

“Could’ve sworn Bruce had a Dr. Seuss anthology somewhere in here,” he says to her, combing over the shelves with his eyes. “Guess not. You up for something more sophisticated?”

She grunts, squeezing his shirt in her fist. “Alright,” he agrees, pulling Twelfth Night off the shelf. “Shakespeare it is. You’ve got taste, kid.”

He wonders, not for the first time, what exactly he thinks he’s doing, playing at this whole parenting thing. The rational part of his brain knows that this is a case, that Dani is a victim, that Jason is protecting her because it’s his job. The emotional part of his brain has gone completely off the goddamn rails. Case in point: he’s here with her in the library, prepping her for early literacy like some kind of Crest Hill soccer mom wannabe. Like he’ll even be in her life when she starts doing her ABCs - God willing, she’ll be as far away from him as possible by the time that happens.

It’s fucking hard to think about. He never thought he’d get this attached to a person who can’t even burp on their own. It’s been over a week, and he still struggles with putting her down, with stepping away from her, even when he knows he’s coming right back. Steph and Damian have been wanting to hold her all the time, and Jason knows that they’re capable, knows he has no claim over Dani, doesn’t even mind either of them all that much under normal circumstances, and still, he can’t help feeling like something has reached inside and gripped at his heart every time he passes her over. Which is ridiculous, because she’s not his, he has no more claim over her than any other schmuck off the street. She’s just a kid with unbelievably bad luck, and he’s the idiot who followed Dick up the stairs instead of booking it out the door like a sensible person.

He settles down with her on the couch, propping her up on a couple of pillows, giving her foot a little squeeze. She squeals, smiling at him, and stuffs her fingers in her mouth. God, Jason didn’t know he could feel the way he feels whenever she smiles at him. It’s gonna kill him when he has to give her up.

“If music be the food of love, play on,” he reads, walking his fingers up her leg. “Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Dani watches him, chewing happily on her fingers. “‘O, it came over my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets.’ That’s you, you know.” He pokes her in the cheek, grinning. If music be the food of love…but hell, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. Especially when she’s all calm and engaging, the precious few minutes that he’s learned to appreciate in between finishing eating and being tired and cranky, when all she wants to do is look around at things, and all Jason wants to do, ever, is look at her.

The door to the library opens, and Jason goes from content to murderous in a fraction of a second. “What the fuck is it now,” he hisses, expecting Damian or maybe Tim, coming to nag him some more, and instead sees Damian’s friend Colin, who looks horrified to have intruded on him. Jason immediately feels like the world’s biggest ass.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, mortified, and Jason waves a hand apologetically.

“My bad, I didn’t know it was you. Come in, it’s fine. She’s awake, you don’t need to whisper.”

Colin looks unsure, but soon nods and steps into the library, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Once inside, he dawdles by the nearest bookshelf, clearly at a loss. Jason probably should’ve just let him back out, because this is awkward. Should he keep reading to Dani? Talk to Colin? Ask him why he looks like someone just kicked him and stole his dog?

“You good?” he ventures, figuring he ought to at least attempt to be the adult in the room.

Colin glances at him over his shoulder, smiling tentatively. “Yeah, just bored. Damian’s sleeping, we had a rough patrol last night.”

“We?” Jason repeats, stunned. Bruce isn’t an exemplar of child welfare practices, sure, but letting Damian take other kids on crime-busting playdates? What the hell?

“Oh, I guess you don’t know,” Colin frowns. “I’m….uh, it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

He slides his jacket off, threadbare t-shirt hanging off his skinny frame. Jason tenses, not sure what to expect. When Colin’s arm starts to expand, his eyes widen. By the time his fist is as big around as Jason’s thigh, he thinks his eyebrows have probably disappeared into his hairline.

“Oh.” Jason has no idea how he’s supposed to react to this. Is Colin a meta? He’s pretty sure he would know if Colin was a meta. “How…?”

“Scarecrow,” Colin explains. Jason’s heart sinks. “He experimented on me with synthetic Venom. Batman saved me.”

Dani fusses, twisting her body and scrunching her face up. Jason sympathizes - this conversation is giving him gas, too. “Shit,” he says. Not the most articulate way of expressing his condolences, but Colin’s friends with Damian, so tact can’t be of great importance to him. “I didn’t know.”

Dani starts to cry, and Colin takes a couple steps forward, putting Jason’s hackles up at once. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. He might have fallen down a few pegs, but he’s not pathetic enough to square up against an abused fifth grader. He picks her up, rubbing her back, and then glances over at Colin. The kid’s gone shy, looking down at a point somewhere between Jason’s legs and the floor. Jason feels all the hostility bleed out of him, and he sighs.

“You can sit down.” He gestures to the couch, trying to sound nonthreatening. Dani burps, mouths at his shirt, and then gurgles and kicks her legs again. She leans back against his hold to stare at Colin, and Colin’s face splits into a huge grin. He tucks himself down into the cushions, keeping plenty of space between them, but Jason can sense from the inclination of his body that he wants to be closer. Well, if anyone has a right to be close to Dani, it’s the kid who rescued her in the first place.

“Here,” he offers, turning Dani around in his arms. His heart clenches, and he clamps down on his desire to flee. “You can hold her for a minute, if you want to. She likes you.”

Colin looks at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Go ahead. Honestly, you probably know a lot more about this shit than I do.”

Colin takes Dani from him carefully, smiling at her and laughing when she reaches forward to grab at his jacket zipper. A few seconds later, it’s in her mouth, along with most of her fist.

“Should I…?” Colin looks at Jason hesitantly.

“I mean…she’s had worse things in her mouth,” Jason tells him. A ringing endorsement of his child-minding abilities right there. “It’s fine, right? That’s how they build an immune system, or whatever.”

“Well, Alfred washed this for me last night,” Colin admits, looking embarrassed. “So it shouldn’t be too gross.”

Jason leans back against the couch cushions, crossing his arms. “Getting all the perks, huh?”

Colin shrugs, casting his eyes down again. “I like it here.”

Considering where Colin grew up, Jason supposes he can’t blame the kid. Still, he’s not quite wrapping his head around this sweet, genuinely nice kid being buddies with Damian. The demon brat isn’t exactly known for his winning personality, and Jason only knows vaguely how the two of them met, but what he’s heard doesn’t strike him as being particularly conducive to forging the lasting bonds of friendship.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to just ask. “Why’d you call Damian, the night you found her?”

Colin looks surprised. “I...don’t know,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t know who else to call? Damian’s my best friend, and he always knows what to do.”

Jason can’t keep the skeptical look off his face.

“And if he doesn’t, Bat….Bruce, I mean, definitely always knows what to do.”

Jason scrubs a hand over his face. Time to change the fucking subject. “How’d you two get hooked up, anyways?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, still eating Colin’s zipper. Sometimes, Jason gets the bizarre feeling that she can somehow tell when he’s about to blow a gasket. It’s probably a coincidence - she moves around a lot, and Jason has anger issues that flare up every ten minutes, so there’s bound to be some crossover - but it works, because it takes the fight right out of him every time.

“We worked a case together,” Colin says, holding Dani a little more securely against him. “About a year ago, I guess. Kids were disappearing from my orphanage, and from the shelters. I don’t think you were around.”

“I wasn’t,” Jason shakes his head. He and Roy had been busting a trafficking ring in Ibiza, and it had taken Jason over a month to get all the major players. “I heard about it a little, from Dick.”

Dick hadn’t given him too many details at the time - Jason had chalked it up to him having a few other things on his mind, but as Colin fills in the gaps, he starts to suspect Dick just didn’t want him going on a rampage. Which he absolutely would have - he still wants to, God. God. All those poor kids, just a stone’s throw from his old neighborhood. And of course the police had done jack shit - Zsasz is practically Black Mask’s pet, he probably paid them off to look the other way, not that most of them need the excuse - and Bruce was gone, and Jason was gone, and Dick was in over his head, and - fuck, it should never have fallen to Damian and Colin.

He waits for the fury to subside a little, not trusting what will come out of his mouth. Dani hums around her fist, blinking at him, and it helps. “Jesus,” he says, finally. “This fucking town.”

Colin’s mouth twists a little. “Yeah. But you were Robin, right? You probably saw worse things.”

Did he? Jason doesn’t remember. He doubts it, though. He can’t imagine he would’ve been satisfied with Bruce’s way of dealing with it.

“I wouldn’t have pulled my stroke, when I was Robin,” he muses. “Probably why Bruce never gave me a sword.”

No, Jason would’ve bisected the fucker. It still has appeal, though he thinks he would lean towards his favorite Sig rifle if he was taking care of it today. Headshots for the henchmen - anyone who signs on to that kind of operation, even in the most menial capacity, doesn’t deserve to breathe. Kneecaps and crotch shots for the spectators, to make sure they couldn’t get away. Gut shots for the kid-wranglers. And Zsasz....it’s tempting to want to draw it out, but Jason can feel the desire leaving him the longer he thinks about it. His imaginative tortures fade into a simple headshot, and even that isn’t satisfying. Fuck. He just can’t seem to hold onto his rage lately, even when he wants to. It’s all being replaced by some kind of anxiety, some kind of tenderness that aches, burning deep into him every time Dani looks at him, or touches him. Every time he thinks of her. Every time he feels Dick watching him with her, all warmth and affection.

Colin bounces her a little, making her laugh. Jason feels his revenge fantasy slip away.

“What’re you reading her?” Colin nods to the book still laying open in Jason’s lap.

Jason looks at it. “Oh, Twelfth Night. Shakespeare,” he adds, recalling that Colin is eleven, and likely not perusing great literature in his free time. “Figure it’s never too early to start her on the classics.”

Colin grins. “That’s cool,” he says. “Does she like it?”

“Beats me,” Jason shrugs.

“Read some?”

Jason raises his eyebrows.

Colin flushes. “Um. I mean, if you want…”

He decides to humor him. What the hell. “Sure, why not. ‘O spirit of love! How quick and fresh art thou, that, notwithstanding in thy capacity, receiveth as the sea.’”

Dani yawns widely, relinquishing her fist in a long string of drool. Jason laughs, and so does Colin. “Maybe jumping the gun a little,” he admits. “I don’t really know what kids are into these days.”

“Me either,” Colin says. “I think she liked it, though. See, she’s just sleepy.”

Jason feels a lump forming in his throat, and swallows hard against it.

“What does it mean? The part you were reading,” Colin asks.

“Um.” Jason doesn’t really know, he’s not exactly a literary scholar, but he’s always liked to work Shakespeare out on his own, finding meaning in the wordplay and running the metaphors through his mind until they line up in a satisfactory way. He doesn’t know if his interpretation is correct, exactly, but: “So this Duke, a guy called Orsino, is saying that he doesn’t want to be in love anymore. He’s talking about love and how everyone thinks it’s this wonderful thing, but the truth is that it actually just makes people miserable.”

Jason pauses, feeling like he just showed way too much of his hand. “Basically, he’s just complaining,” he finishes, uneasy.

Glancing at Colin out of the corner of his eye, he’s relieved to see that he’s occupied with Dani, and not paying attention to Jason at all. Thank fuck. If it’d been anyone else in the house sitting there, he’d be in for some horrible armchair psychology session, and he’d have to book it out the window and not return for several months.

“I think she wants you,” Colin says, as Dani ramps up her fussing. Jason takes her gratefully, holds her to his chest as she rubs her eyes and grumbles her displeasure at being passed around.

“All right, I hear you,” Jason murmurs, gently tugging her fists away from her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, come on. It’s not so bad.” Like he’s one to talk.

And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, ever since pursue me, he thinks, rocking her tiny body into a comfortable position. Colin was only holding her for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Jason was sitting less than five feet away, but he missed her. God, what is happening to him?

“Damian didn’t want to bring her here, at first,” Colin says quietly. “But I think he’s glad that we did. He really likes her, you know.”

Jason doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. It’s sweet, on some level. And he’s well aware that Damian likes her, going by the amount of time he spends hovering in the hallway outside Jason’s room, not to mention the increasingly expensive toys that keep showing up among her things.

He looks down at her, dozing off. “Well, she’s pretty easy to like.”

Colin nods, looking pleased.

“Damian, on the other hand....”

Colin grins. “He’s not so bad.”

He’s really not. Like hell Jason will ever tell him that, though. “You have bizarre taste, kid.”

Colin blushes, hard, and Jason blinks. Well. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Or it will be, in a few years. He makes a note to ask Dick about it, later.

“Are you gonna adopt her?” Colin asks, bringing Jason’s amused thoughts to a screeching halt.

Automatically, he says, “No way.”

Colin looks wounded. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” Jason replies. “I’m the last person who should be a parent, trust me.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

Doesn’t feel that way either - the thought floats up, unbidden, uninvited. He can’t. “She deserves better,” Jason says, heavily. “Even if….even I could handle it. She deserves better than this family.”

“But your family is - ”

“A death sentence.” He’s being harsh, but if Colin’s gonna be hanging around, he’ll find out for himself soon enough. “It’s fucking cursed, look. I couldn’t do that to any kid, especially her. You should get out too, while you still can.”

Colin looks angry, which surprises him. His hands are balled into fists, and Jason sees a tremor in them, a bulging that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid,” he says sharply. “Colin. If you’re gonna hulk out, take it outside. Alfred will have an honest-to-God stroke if you do it in here.”

A few deep breaths later, Colin looks normal again. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “You’re wrong, though.”

Jason’s temper flares. “No offense, but I think I would know better than you,” he snaps. Dani grumbles sleepily in his arms, and he sighs out in frustration. “Trust me, okay? She’s better off. It never ends well, not in this family. I’m proof of that.”

But Colin shakes his head. “You don’t know,” he says. “My mom said the same thing, when she dropped me off at the orphanage. She gave the nuns a letter - she said I’d be better off with them than with her.”

Jason stills.

“It didn’t matter,” Colin continues. “Scarecrow still got me. Victor Zsasz still got me. Maybe they would have gotten me with her, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have been that much better off with her, but at least I would’ve been with her.” He sniffles, and Jason holds Dani a little tighter.

“I know she loved me.” His voice cracks. “I just wish...I wish I could’ve stayed with her. I wish she would have known that I never would’ve been better off away from her.”

He looks absolutely miserable, pitched forward and rubbing hard at his eyes. Jason is reminded painfully of how young Colin is, closer to Dani’s age than his own. He remembers being Colin’s age and younger, thinking the same thoughts about his own mother. How fiercely he’d guarded her, chased away the cops and the social workers, doing everything in his power not to be separated from her. Not that it mattered, in the end.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Colin, I’m sorry. For the record, I actually kind of get where you’re coming from.”

Colin looks up at him.

“Wish I didn’t, but. That’s life.”

“You should adopt her,” Colin says again, softly.

Jason shakes his head. “Colin…”

“You’ll think about it.”

He exhales. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Like he’ll be able to think about anything else after this.

“She needs you,” Colin insists stubbornly.

Jason doesn’t reply. He knows on some level Colin is right - Dani does need him right now. She needs someone, at least, someone who can take care of her and protect her. Someone who isn’t afraid to shed blood to keep her safe. Jason doesn’t relish the thought, but he’s certain this won’t end tidily. Mob cases never do. It’ll be messy, and bloody, and Bruce will have a shit fit, and Dick probably will too, and Jason will go back to Crime Alley and Dani will get shipped off to Witness Protection or something, and damn, does that hurt to think about.

He looks over at Colin, still hunched over on himself, vulnerability written into every line of his posture. He’s desperately in need of a hug, or some kind of affection, validation, maybe. Or that’s just Jason projecting, who the fuck knows. If Dick was here, he would know exactly what to do for him. Jason’s at a loss, unable to separate his young self from the damaged kid sitting next to him.

He adjusts his hold on Dani carefully, laying her down flat along his arm, while he works out what to say. Finally, he settles on, “Damian’s lucky to have you.”

Colin sits up a little straighter. He looks like he’s waiting for more, but he’s shit out of luck, because Jason has no idea what else he needs to hear. No idea what he could say that wouldn’t be completely insincere, anyways. We can be your family, Colin. Like hell. Bruce has enough kids lined up waiting to die for him, he’s not about to encourage another one to be turned into cannon fodder for the man’s principles.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason says, after a moment. “That’s all I got.”

Colin smiles wanly. “Thanks, anyways.”

Jason snorts. “Sure.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jason stares. “Can you…what? Me?”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Colin adds, averting his eyes.

Jason can’t even remember the last time someone hugged him. He thinks Roy might’ve, some eight or nine months ago, after they’d narrowly survived a warehouse explosion. Jason’s whole body had been ringing from the blast, so he doesn’t exactly remember the sensation of it. And before that…?

He imagines Dick’s reaction, if he was here. He’d be disappointed in Jason, that’s for sure. Really, Jay? You can’t hug a child? It’s a fair argument, he has to admit. Jason’s fucked up personal space issues don’t really apply to children, or babies, clearly. Colin’s obviously attention-starved, and Jason’s already holding one kid. What’s another, really.

“Okay,” he relents. “Hit me.”

There’s a shuffling motion next to him, and then Colin is hugging his free arm, leaning his head against Jason’s shoulder. Jason can’t quite contain his surprise - it’s weird, as expected, but it’s not dramatically increasing his desire to bolt through the nearest exit like he’d thought it would. It’s a little funny, actually. He’s pretty sure both Bruce and Damian would lose their shit if they could see him right now. Dick, too, most likely, but to his credit, it would be a happy kind of shit-losing. Damian would probably try to gut him.

Are there cameras in the library? Jason can’t remember. He kind of hopes there aren’t, because if anyone else sees this, he will absolutely never live it down.

***

(dick)

“Wait, I think that’s him.” Dick leans forward to peer at Tim’s screen. He points to the familiar looking figure. “That guy. Do you have a clearer shot?”

Tim skips a few photos ahead, and zooms in. “Him?”

“Yes. That’s the guy. Jason said he recognized him from your surveillance files. He was at the club the night we caught Susie Falcone.”

“The fourth night, was it?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Don’t be mean, Timmy.”

“Just clarifying,” Tim grins. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I don’t have a ton of intel on this guy, he’s really slippery. According to my informant, he goes by Tiberius - some kind of mercenary, Greek or Albanian national. I doubt that’s his real name.”

Dick nods, studying the photographs. Tim continues, “He came over with Intergang as an enforcer, I think. Might’ve been Reynolds’ personal bodyguard.”

“Could explain how Reynolds got taken out,” Dick says thoughtfully. “He’s on the Falcones’ payroll now, but he’s not family. Might be an easy target.”

Tim opens his mouth, about to reply, when there’s a choked-off sound of fury from the Batcave below them.

“Was that Damian? He’s up already?” Dick asks, glancing down towards Bruce’s computer. He hops over the ramp to see what the fuss is about. Tim follows close behind.

“Everything okay?” Dick asks, approaching the wall of screens. There’s nothing that jumps out at him as being particularly alarming; Bruce is looking at DNA analyses, and Damian is looking at the Manor surveillance, tapping furiously at his ear.

“Todd!” he hisses. “What do you think you’re doing? Colin is my friend!”

“Robin,” Oracle’s voice comes through the speaker. “No names on the comms. And Hood isn’t wearing his earpiece, so you’ll have to tell him in person.” She sounds amused. “Oracle out.”

Damian swears.

“Holy shit,” Tim says faintly. “Look at them.”

The screen that all the Manor surveillance feeds run to is showing just one room - the library, of all places, but Dick vaguely recalls it being some kind of sanctuary to Jason, years and years ago. It makes sense that he’d end up back there, and it makes sense that he’d have Dani with him. What Dick doesn’t expect to see is little Colin Wilkes, all five feet and change of him, snuggled up to Jason’s side and hugging him, wrapped around his arm like a gangly koala. Dick can’t help but notice that Jason’s bicep is about as big around as Colin’s head, which is certainly...something. He’s not quite ready to classify how he feels about that, so he refocuses on the hug itself, which is nothing short of charming.

Damian grinds his teeth audibly. “It’s still going.”

“Oh, man.” Dick can’t help the grin he feels creeping up the sides of his face. “Bruce, are you seeing this?”

“I am,” Bruce says, stiffly. He looks like he’s in pain. Dick fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you? Look how sweet they are!” he exclaims, gesturing. It’s adorable.

“It is not sweet,” Damian snarls, whirling on him. “Todd is a corruptive influence, and Colin is young and impressionable! Where is your concern for him?”

Tim coughs, and it sounds a little bit like “jealous”. Surprisingly, this does not diffuse Damian’s indignation.

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, stepping between them quickly to block Damian’s spinning kick. “I thought you and Jason were fine, Damian. You’ve been spending enough time in our - in his room lately. Where’s this coming from?”

“Incredibly, I don’t feel as concerned about Todd recruiting an infant onto the path of lawlessness,” Damian retorts. “Colin lacks paternal guidance in his life, as you know. Todd clearly senses it.”

“Jason is very paternal these days,” Tim agrees.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a hug,” Dick says in exasperation. “No one’s recruiting anyone, Damian. And look, it’s over. Your friend is just a hugger, that’s all.”

“I must agree with Master Richard,” Alfred says from behind them. “Having been the recipient of many such embraces from young Master Colin myself.”

“See? I’ve gotten hugs from him too,” Dick tells Damian. “And I know you have, so don’t bother denying it. He’s probably gearing up the courage to get one from Bruce one of these days.”

Bruce looks slightly alarmed by the prospect. “He is?”

Damian looks conflicted. “He is?”

Dick casts his eyes heavenward. “Colin, I’m so sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, the Cave door opens below them, and Duke’s bike comes shooting in, whipping around into its parking spot in a move that would send Dick flying over the handlebars. Bruce takes about half a second to look impressed, and then clears the main screen to pull up their intel on the Falcone case.

“What’s up, guys,” Duke calls, pulling off his helmet and jogging up the steps. “I’ve got news. Where’s Jason?”

“Being hugged, in the library,” Dick tells him. “You just missed it.”

Duke looks nonplussed. “Damn. Wait, that’s not some kind of weird euphemism, is it? If it is, I don’t want to know.”

“It most certainly is not,” Damian says venomously.

“Cool. I tried to get him on the comm, but he didn’t respond. Should I go get him? He’ll want to hear this.”

“Damian will get him,” Bruce says.

Damian is…already on the elevator. Dick spares a thought for Jason. At least he’s holding Dani, so Damian won’t attack him outright.

“Your news?” Bruce prompts.

“Right,” Duke nods. “I’ve been all over City Hall records, and spent yesterday afternoon getting intel in the East End. I’ve got names and faces of most of the major players in this. They’re trying hard to front some distant nephew of Carmine Falcone as the head of the whole operation, but it wasn’t quite adding up. You said the new Falcone boss is a woman, right?” he asks Tim.

Tim nods affirmatively.

Duke looks triumphant. “Then I know who she is.”

***

#jaydick #in which there is so much plot all to justify the existence of 1 baby #low key this fic is my maternal love letter to colin wilkes #i miss him dc bring him back #my fics #heartlandverse

7 notes · View notes

rocknvaughn · 4 years

Text

New Colin Morgan Interview with Edge Media Network about Benjamin - UPDATED

I am reblogging this because, after the author was made aware of an error in the posting of his article (if anyone clicked through to read it on the site, there was a whole question and answer that was repeated), the error was corrected and another three questions and answers were added! I am correcting it here, but they were very interesting, so I suggest you read the full article again!

I shall post the link at the bottom, but I wanted to type it out so that non-English speakers could more easily translate it. (This article was listed in their “Gay News” section of the site, hence the focus on the gay roles.)

British Actor Colin Morgan: How the Queerly Idiosyncratic ‘Benjamin’ Spoke to Him

by Frank J. Avelia

In writer-director Simon Amstell’s sweet, idiosyncratic, semi-autobiographical comedy, “Benjamin,” Colin Morgan plays the titular character, an insecure filmmaker trying to resuscitate his waning career (at least it’s waning in his mind) after one major cine-indie success. Benjamin is also doing his best to navigate a new relationship with a young French musician (Phenix Brossard of “Departures”).

Thanks to the truly endearing, multifaceted talents of Morgan, Benjamin feels like an authentic creation--one that most audiences can empathize with. Sure, he’s peculiar, has a legion of self-esteem issues and an almost exasperating need for acceptance as well as an inconvenient talent to self-sabotage the good in his life. But who can’t relate to some or all of that?

“Benjamin” is one of the better queer-themed films to come out in recent years, in large part because it eschews emphasis on the queer nature of the story. Instead, the film is a fascinating character study with Morgan slowly revealing layers and unpacking Benjamin’s emotional baggage.

Morgan is a major talent who has been appearing across mediums in Britain for many years. His London theatre debut was in DBC Pierre’s satire, “Vernon God Little” (2007), followed by the stage adaptation of Pedro Almodovar’s “All About My Mother” (2007), opposite Diana Rigg. Numerous and eclectic stage work followed (right up until the Corona shutdown) including Pedro Miguel Rozo’s “Our Private Life” (2011), where he played a bipolar gay, Jez Butterworth’s dark comedy, “Mojo” (2013), Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons” opposite Sally Field (2019), and Caryl Churchill’s “A Number” (2020), to name a few.

His TV work includes, “Merlin” (playing the wizard himself), “Humans” and most recently, in a very memorable episode of “The Crown”. Onscreen he can be seen in “Testament of Youth”, “Legend” with Tom Hardy, “Snow White and the Huntsman” and Rupert Everett’s take on Oscar Wilde, “The Happy Prince.”

He’s played a host of gay roles in the past on stage, screen and TV.

EDGE recently interviewed the star of “Benjamin” about the new film and his career.

Why Benjamin?

EDGE: What drew you to this project and were you part of its development?

Colin Morgan: It’s always the strength of the script for me on any project and Simon’s script was just so well observed, he managed to combine humor and poignancy in delicate measure and when I first read it I found myself being both tickled and touched. Then reading it again and from “the actor” POV... I knew it would be a real challenge and uncharted territory for me to explore. I auditioned for Simon and we tried it in different ways and then when I was lucky enough for Simon to want me on board, we began to work through the script together, because it was clear that this was going to be a very close working relationship... it was important for the level of trust to be high.

EDGE: I appreciated that this was a queer love story where the character’s queerness wasn’t the main focus. Was that also part of the allure of the project?

CM: I think Benjamin’s sexuality is just quite naturally who he is and therefore that’s a given, we’re on his journey to find meaning and love and there’s certainly a freshness to what Simon has written in not making sexuality the main focus.

Great chemistry

EDGE: Can you speak a but about the process involved in working with Amstell on the character and his journey?

CM: Simon and me worked very closely over a period of weeks, at that time prior to shooting I was doing a theatre project not far from where he lived so I would go to him and rehearse and discuss through the whole script all afternoon before going to do the show that night, so that worked out well. It’s so personal to Simon, and to have had him as my guide and source throughout was fantastic because I could ask him all the questions and he could be the best barometer for the truth of the character; a rare opportunity for an actor and one that was so essential for building Benjamin. But ultimately Simon wanted Benjamin to emerge from somewhere inside me and he gave me so much freedom to do that also.

EDGE: You had great chemistry with Phenix Brossard. Did you get to rehearse?

CM: Phenix is fantastic, Simon and me did chemistry reads with a few different actors who were all very good but Phenix just had an extra something we felt Benjamin would be drawn to. We did a little bit of rehearsal together but because it was a relationship that was trying to find itself there was a lot of room for spontaneity and uncertainty between us, which is what the allure of a new relationship is all about, the excitement and fear.

Liberating process

EDGE: Did your process meld with Amstell’s?

CM: I’ve said this a lot before and it’s true, Simon is one of the best directors I’ve worked with. Everything he created before shooting and then maintained on set was special. We always did improvised versions of most scenes and always the scripted version too. It was such a creative and liberating process. That is exactly the way I love to work. And for a director to maintain that level of bravery, trust and experimental play throughout the whole shoot stands as one of the most rewarding shooting experiences I’ve had.

EDGE: When I spoke with Rupert Everett about “The Happy Prince,” he very proudly boasted about his ensemble. Can you speak about working with Rupert as he balanced wearing a number of creative hats?

CM: Again, this was an extremely rewarding project to work on and quite a similar relationship as with Simon in the respect that Rupert was the writer/director and Oscar Wilde is so personal to him. And then we also had many scenes together in front of the camera, so Rupert and me had a real 3D experience together. It was a long time in the making. I was on board, I think, two years before we actually got shooting so I had a lot of time to work with Rupert and rehearse. He really inspired me, watching him wear all the different creative hats, such a challenging and difficult job/jobs to achieve and he really excelled--plus we just got on very well.

Playing queer roles

EDGE: You haven’t shied away from playing queer roles. Do you think we’re moving closer to a time when a person’s sexual orientation is of little consequence to the stories being told, or should it always matter? Or perhaps we need to continue to evolve as a culture for it to matter less or not at all...

CM: That’s a hard question to answer, I think certainly the shift in people’s attitudes has changed considerably for the better compared to 40 years ago, but there will always be resistance to change and acceptance from individuals and groups whether it be sexuality, religion, race, gender--we’re seeing it every day.

Evolution is, of course, inevitable, but if we can learn from the past as we evolve that would be the ideal. Unfortunately, we rarely do learn, and history repeats itself.

EDGE: You were featured prominently in one of my favorite episodes of the “The Crown” (”Bubbikins”) as the fictional journo John Armstrong. Can you speak a bit about working on the show and with the great Jane Lapotaire?

CM: I had an exceptionally good time working on “The Crown.” Director Benjamin Caron, especially, was so prepared and creative, and made the whole experience so welcoming and inclusive. It was an incredibly happy set, with extremely talented people in every department, and I admired the ethos of the whole production and have no doubt that’s a huge ingredient to its success, along with Peter Morgan’s incredible writing.

I was also a fan of the show, and it was an honor to be part of the third season. And I can’t say enough amazing things about Jane Lapotaire. We talked a lot in between filming, and I relished every moment of that.

EDGE: You’ve done a ton of stage work. Do you have a favorite role you’ve played onstage?

CM: I’ve been so lucky with the theatre work I’ve done, to work with such special directors and work in wonderful theatres in London. I’ve worked at the Old Vic and The Young Vic twice each, and they’re always special to me. Ian Rickson is a liberating director, who I love. It’s hard to pick a favorite, because the roles have all been so different and presented different challenges, but, most recently, doing “A Number,” playing three different characters alongside Roger Allam and directed by Polly Findlay, was a really treasured experience, and I never tired of doing that show, every performance was challenging as it was.

Miss the rehearsal room

EDGE: You were doing “A Number” earlier this year. Did you finish your run before the lockdown/shutdown?

CM: Just about! We had our final performance, and then lockdown happened days later. I feel very sorry for the productions that didn’t get the sense of completion of finishing a run. I mean, finishing a full run leaves you in a kind of post-show void anyway, even though you know it’s coming, so to not know it’s coming and have it severed must be even more of a void.

Memories of performing just months ago seem like such an unattainable thing in this COVID world right now. I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping we get back to some semblance of live performance.

EDGE: What was it like to appear onstage opposite Dame Diana Rigg in “All About My Mother?”

CM: Well, I think “iconic” is an apt word for both the experience of working with Diana and the lady herself. In between scenes backstage we used to talk a lot and we got told off for talking too loudly, so Diana began to teach me sign language and we would spell out words to each other, maybe only getting a couple of sentences to each other before she was due on stage and I had to get into position for my next entrance-- we did a radio play together two years ago and she remembered, she said, “Do you remember A-E-I-O-U?” signing out the letters with her hands.

EDGE: None of us knows the future in terms of the pandemic and when we might return to making theatre. I’m a playwright myself and find it all supremely frustrating but I’m trying to remain hopeful! Where are you right now in terms of the standstill we are in and what the future might hold?

CM: Yes, I’m so worried for theatre. It’s a devastating blow. I’m sure as a playwright, you know that the creative spirit in individuals hasn’t been diminished by this virus. People are creating important art in this crisis but we need the platforms to present it and bring people to some light again out of this really scary period, but it needs to be safe and it’s a worrying time. The virtual theatre approach must be looked at I think. We need to experiment and find new paths at least for the time being. I’m involved in developing some things right now and how we can work on things in both an isolated and collaborative way. It’s entirely counterintuitive to what the family-feel and close bond of a group in a rehearsal room is like-- I miss the rehearsal room so much!-- but we can’t sit still, we must create and we must act.

What’s in a role?

EDGE: Looking back on the great success of “Merlin,” what are your takeaways from that experience?

CM: Some of the most treasured memories of my life will forever be connected to “Merlin,” the cast, crew, production, everyone! The invaluable training of being in front of a camera every day! The chance to inhabit a character and live with him for five seasons! There’s too much to list and words probably won’t do justice anyway, but I’m truly grateful for everything the show gave me.

EDGE: How do you select the roles you play?

CM: I guess they select me in a way. I can’t play a role unless it speaks to me and provokes me in some way, but ultimately it’s the characters that I have a fear about playing, not knowing how I’m going to enter into the process of living them, when I don’t have all the answers it’s a good indicator of a character I must play. If I have all the answers, there’s less scope for exploration and discovery which isn’t as interesting for me.

Link here

#colin morgan #interview #14 july 2020 #edgemedianetwork #benjamin #transcription

144 notes · View notes