#Automatic Trailer Tent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cilldaracailin · 3 years ago

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Somebody to Love

Hello my Tumblr Lovely’s.

Hope you are all doing well :)

I am here with the next part in this Robyn and Taron story.

In a quick other news, I went to see the play Taron in the play he is in last night and oh my goodness, it was brilliant. The whole cast was fantastic and of course there is some biased here but Taron’s character and portrayal of that character was just insane. He is so talented and you could see he loves being on stage.

Anyway, back to the story,

Hope you all enjoy,

Suze xx

“She's my best friend—she's everything to me. It's always just been me and her against the world.”

After Robyn left him, Taron stood alone in the trailer, still shivering and he quickly threw down the towel onto the table, going straight into the bathroom and turning on the shower. As the water heated up, he turned to the mirror and groaned as he looked at his reflection. The make-up had run on his face and the effects Stephanie had given him were a little smeared, some drips of purple and dark blue staining his cheeks. He was surprised Robyn hadn’t said anything to him but then she had seen him looking worse on set and knew she was more concerned with his core body temperature than anything else. His lips lifted in a little smile, something that just automatically happened now when he thought about her. As he started to clean off his face, he was still desperate for a hug and once he had warmed up was going to get one long squishy squeeze from her.

The bathroom was starting to steam up and the growing heat was making his cold body shiver finally in a good way and he couldn’t wait to get into the warm water. He wiped his jaw clean and was so looking forward to getting out of his wet clothes, a small puddle of water under his feet which were so cold and uncomfortable in his shoes. Along with getting warm, he was also looking forward to getting something to eat. It had been a long time since they started filming, only taking some quick bathroom breaks in-between scenes and he was more than ready to just sit and relax for a while. As he went over his face once more with the make-up remover thinking about whether he would have tea or coffee, it dawned on him suddenly that he had asked Robyn to go and get them some food from catering and expected her to carry plates back to his trailer by herself. Rolling his eyes, he splashed some water on his face, then reached in to turn off the shower. The heat quickly filtered from the small room and Taron grabbed the towel from the rail, dried his face and roughly rubbed his hair, trying to get as much of the wetness out as possible. He dropped the towel onto the floor and ran his hands through the mess left behind and rolled his eyes, sighing as he was going to deny himself a shower to go and help Robyn, knowing well what she was going to say when she saw him but he couldn’t leave her to carry everything by herself.

He left the bathroom and hurried into the bedroom, trying to pull his wet shirt off as he walked, having to resort to opening the buttons, rather than getting it over his head as he got stuck and really pulled on the sleeves to get them off. He had to sit down to get his jeans off and once he was stripped, quickly re-dressed in his clothes from earlier which were neatly left on his bed by Stephanie. He didn’t go with the green jumper but rather a simple t-shirt, still pulling it down his cold chest as he sat back on the bed to shove his feet into a pair of runners. The dry clothes definitely gave his body a bit of heat but he still felt an inner chill and knew Robyn was going to murder him for not getting straight in the shower but he had to go and help her, considering he had been the one to ask her to go to catering for him.

Out of the trailer, he took to a quick jog to get to the catering tent and once inside, greeted everyone from the crew with a quick wave, immediately seeing Robyn at the food tables, definitely helping herself to some food for them. He weaved his way through the chairs, strolling towards the desert section seeing her head that way and reached the beverages just as she did and in the nick of time too as she suddenly lost her balance and fell sideways and he quickly caught her in his two arms, holding onto her firmly.

“Robyn!” He called out, gripping her body tight to his, holding onto her, his body soaking in the heat he could feel from her, his own still desperate for any chance of warmth it could get. Taron had barely got her standing when she stormed out of his arms and straight into Simone’s personal space.

Always there to catch her she fell, Robyn gripped onto Taron’s arms as she got back on her feet, so familiar with the feel of his arms she didn’t even need to guess who had caught her. Gaining her balance, she looked up to his face for the briefest second before she turned to her left, Simone staring at her with a sly grin. Robyn was fuming and ready for a battle, stepping away from Taron, pushing his arms from her and she moved to stand right beside the woman she was gunning for and even when Simone wasn’t in her heels, Robyn was still standing shorter than her but she made herself stand stall, her face fierce just like her body language. “Next time you want to me to hit the floor, you might want to make sure I don’t have someone there to catch me as well as a tent full of people who saw it happen, including the chef.” Robyn looked to Tom who was standing behind the tables with a grey tub in his hands, his face clearly a little stunned at what he had just seen. Robyn, still livid with what had happened looked back to Simone, who was staring at her with a long dirty glower. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you and I will always give someone a chance, always but let me tell you something, Miss Simone, you never mess with an Irish woman. Even if I had of hit the floor, I would just get right back up and still be here and still be in his life and still around so you come for me as much as you want, give me what you got because I never back down and never shy away and I will protect him with everything I have for as long as he will let me.”

A few claps came from somewhere in the tent but no one moved, Robyn still staring at Simone and eventually the newest member of the crew stepped back a tiny bit but still trying to tower over her.

“It was an accident.” Simone sneered. “You stood in front of me. No need for the attitude.”

“I do believe it was your right foot that stretched out in behind mine while I stood still trying to fill a cup with boiling hot water meaning that when I moved my feet, I would naturally fall over. I was nice to you earlier. We had a chat, I didn’t judge you as you came from Taron’s trailer.” Robyn tried to soften her voice but was finding it very difficult to see past her rage. “You just came out all guns blazing.” She stepped back, feeling her whole-body sway with a little headrush and walked into someone, her head turning to see Taron right behind her. Her headache was back with vengeance, her energy quickly being used up by a stupid girl who had nothing better to do then come for her and she was so thankful to feel him so close to her just in case she needed to lean on him. “I don’t have time for any of this. You obviously don’t like me. Fine, whatever, I don’t actually give a shit but just get a clue and get it quickly and one I hope I don’t have to make crystal clear to you.”

“Crystal huh?”

“Oh shining so bright it will blind you.” Robyn rose her left eye brow.

“I don’t get what is so special about you. What on earth he sees in you.” She growled, looking Robyn up and down, her lips pouting, her hands going to her hips. “Using him to your own advantage. It’s been nearly a year now girl, I think it’s time you moved on.”

Taron had been watching quietly, letting Robyn have her say, knowing well he wouldn’t be able to stop her, also feeling a little hot suddenly as she called Simone out for tripping her up but also her arrogance something Taron had definitely been witness too while on set. He was more than happy to let Robyn have her say, stepping closer to her to show that he completely agreed with everything she was defending herself with but when he heard Simone hit low with her remarks, how she was now becoming mean and cruel, he was very much prepared to step in to have his turn to defend Robyn but someone got there before him, the chef moving forward, a bang echoing around the tent as he slammed the grey tub down onto the table.

“Simone, I need you back in the kitchen. Now.” Tom’s rough male tones broke through the tense atmosphere but the air was still thick with hostility. “And then Matthew will need to see you in his trailer when you are done and I will be escorting you there personally myself.”

Simone glared at Robyn but she had no choice but to give in and turned away, her feet almost stomping in frustration as she made her way back towards the kitchen, trying her best to flick her hair but as it was tied back, she had no chance to show her disgust physically, disappearing through the door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the tent.

“Robyn?” Taron moved to stand in front of her, reaching for her hands, linking his fingers with hers, definitely feeling a shake to her hands. “You know she is talking fucking shit right?” He said to her quickly. “You know how much you mean to me.” He spoke quickly his words merging with each other, his tone very deep, his Welsh accent coming through. “You know this…” He repeated leaning in to lightly kiss her forehead, his words trailing off, hoping he was getting through to her.

Robyn could feel how hard Taron’s hands were holding hers and his lips lingered a little longer then they normally would on her skin and that little touch immediately sent waves of calmness through her and she closed her eyes, taking a long deep breathe, looking to him and nodding, but didn’t answer him, just giving his hands a squeeze, feeling one in return.

“Robyn?” Tom came to stand in front of the desert section, trying to catch Taron’s eye but he was totally focused the young woman who had just done what every crew member had been dying to do all week. Simone had been a pain in everyone’s side since she arrived, trying at every opportunity to get closer to Taron, all the crew finding jobs for her to keep her busy and he really wanted to give Robyn a high five for putting Simone in her place but could see that now was not the time to even suggest it. “Want me get that chocolate cake and cheesecake for you?”

Robyn turned her head to look to the chef, still feeling Taron’s eyes on her and managed to find her voice to answer him. “Please Tom. I am going to get Taron his tea.” Robyn gripped Taron’s hands tighter and almost dragged him back towards the drinks table keeping him behind her.

Very confused and still a little in shock at what just happened, not quite sure what exactly had happened, Taron followed Robyn and stood with her at the table. He wanted to stand beside her but she took his hand and guided him behind her, making sure she was in front of him. “Robyn, sweetheart?” He whispered. “You ok?”

“Please just stay there.” She said to him her voice quiet, reaching for his left hand, wrapping it around her stomach, putting his hand on her right waist. As she was defending herself and Taron, once again, that horrible loss of vision in her left eye hit her hard and she was feeling very dizzy. Fumbling for his other hand, she felt Taron reach for hers and she wrapped his other arm around her too, hoping he picked up on what she needed and thankfully he stepped right into her, winding his right arm up and over her left shoulder, guiding her back into his chest.

“I am right here.” He said into her hair, then moving his face into her left shoulder beside his hand, closing his eyes and just holding her until she was ready to move. He knew she wasn’t feeling like herself and could instantly tell something was wrong especially with how she had let him hold her so close to him and he wanted to and needed to support her until she was ready to let go of him, worried even more about her then he had been already.

It was a dreadful feeling needing someone to keep her standing but Robyn had to close her eyes and grab onto Taron as the pain in her head nearly lifted her from her feet for a few seconds before it levelled out, her dizziness fading, her vision coming back to normal and she hugged Taron’s arms to her, the longest minute passing her by, only opening her eyes when she felt the world wasn’t spinning anymore and her vision was clear. A shaky breathe left her and if it was possible she tightened her arms around his more, feeling him step even closer into her, almost sheltering her with his body. She let go his arms for a moment to wipe her shaking hands down her face, fully opening her eyes, everything in her eyeline settling straight once more. Lifting her left hand, she placed her palm on Taron’s face as he nuzzled into her shoulder, his face moving so she could cup his cheek, giving him some indication that she was ok.

“Thank you. Just a wobble.” She said turning her head a little so her forehead touched off his a little. “It’s passed.” Her answer didn’t seem to appease him and he grunted at her, his protest at her words making her chuckle once. “Maybe give me another minute?” She asked, Taron questioning her request by lifting his head from her shoulder.

Taron closed his eyes and sighed. “Robyn…”

“One more minute.” She said to him, giving his cheek a very gently pat. She would happily stand in an embrace with Taron for as long as she could, even a backwards one but though she knew it was Taron was behind her, she could feel such a difference in his body temperature and she would never get used to him feeling cold. She had cuddled him when he was burning a horribly high temperature and stroked his forehead when his skin was cold and clammy as they sat in the 7/11 together but to feel him just frozen was new and she definitely didn’t like it. It was immediately clear to her that he didn’t even step near a shower but rather just changed his clothes and while his timing had been perfect, she really needed to get his body warm. On his arms she could feel the goosebumps on his skin and started to give his arms a gentle rub up and down.

“You should be in a shower.” She said to him.

“Jesus Robyn, never mind me taking a shower. You are going to see the medic.” He returned his voice deadly seriously and clearly filled with worry. Taron was used to Robyn’s fiery side and loved how she defended him and herself, had even had to catch her a few times before, seeing her fall over many a time too but he had never ever seen her in physical pain, never needed to keep her standing as she clearly suffered and he hated watching it, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. He was always there for her for everything she needed and emotionally, could normally help her but he was at such a loss now. “I mean it Robyn, now.”

She turned around in his arms and taking full advantage of how close they were, slipped her arms around his back and snuggled her face into his chest, finally getting a dry squishy hug in and felt his chest rise and fall in a huff before he engulfed her in his arms.

“Robyn…”

“Shhh squishy hug time.”

He hated caving but had been waiting for this hug all day and his body completely betrayed his head and he quickly returned the hug, so glad to finally hear that the chit chat had started again in the tent. Keeping his eyes closed, he avoided looking at anybody, just concentrating on giving Robyn the tightest snuggle he had ever given her, even moving his arms briefly so he could sneak them under her shirt to really get a good grip on his to hug her.

“You cannot hug your way out of this conversation Robyn.” He said into her neck.

“I can try very hard too.” Robyn lightly laughed. “And I don’t need to go and see the medic Taron. I have already been poked and prodded and checked over and am waiting for results.”

“Something is not right.” He muttered. “That was another spell of dizziness.” He finally lifted his head and he looked at her but she stayed snuggled into his chest. “And if I hadn’t of been here, you would have fallen over.”

“Now to be fair Taron, I was tripped and the energy it took me to get fiery Robyn out, just left me on empty.” She lifted and tilted her head seeing nothing but nervousness and upset on his face. “After some food and a sleep I will be fine.”

Taron scooped her back up in a hug, lifting her from her feet for a few seconds. “I don’t like it.”

“I know, I know.”

“And fucking hell Robyn, I know we were there once, but really never let me piss you off.”

Robyn loved how his words made her smile, a proper smile grin her face. “You never have to worry about that Taron. Never. I am ready to tell you off for not warming up properly though.”

“I had the water turned on and then I realised I had asked you to get us food but left you to carry everything.”

“Tom was going to get me a tray so I could carry it all back.” She explained to him. “I had our plates ready to go but then shit got real.”

Taron was desperate to stay serious, to chastise Robyn again but she was snuggled so deliciously into him, and he could smell her perfume, what little heat she had in her body seeping into his and he just loved her so much, his anger was quickly fading. He sighed heavily, opening the hug up but still holding her. “I want you to rest for the remainder of the evening Robyn and to eat.”

“Never been an issue there Taron.” Robyn gave him a half smile. “Sleeping and eating. We have that in common.”

“Robyn…”

“Sorry, sorry.” She quickly apologised, finally letting go of him and placing her hands on his cheeks. “I know you are worried, I know but I can’t do anything else. Drink the tonic, wait for the results. That cow just got the last of my energy for the day and she didn’t deserve any of it.” She gently stroked his cheeks. “Let’s get some food, you a hot drink and then a shower. I am not leaving your trailer for the evening and plan to get the most out of that empty bed, sleep and rest.” She slowly dropped her hands from his face and took a look over her shoulder. “So everyone saw that then.”

Taron grinned. “That was so much better than giving everyone cookies.”

“I am sorry. I couldn’t help myself. She tripped me up.”

“Fiery Robyn will always be my favourite and she had it coming.”

“I swear, sometimes my mouth just lets go before my brain thinks about it. I always seem to cause some sort of trouble on set.”

Taron shook his head. “Absolutely not and you are technically not on set.”

“Ugh Taron, she is going to go and trash me over social media now.”

“Nope.”

“Taron, she will slate me.”

Taron shook his head again. “Within the non-disclosure agreement that everyone signs, it clearly states that no one is allowed to turn to social media to talk about anything that happens on set.”

“I don’t think this will count.”

“And do you think Lyndsey, all the crew who were witness to what happened and Tom will let that happen? She even tries to talk about this, it won’t go far.”

While Robyn always trusted Taron when it came to anything to do with social media, it was something that made her nervous. A photo that he put on his Instagram was so different to a woman who had ultimate power to get her fingers typing, to twist what happened.

“Stop thinking about it.” Taron could see Robyn over thinking and knew she definitely had no energy for it. “You have been nothing but my best friend, my number one supporter in everything and we have already seen how the media, the fans back you Robyn. They know how important you are to me. Don’t let one more idiot get in your head.” He lifted his hands to her face and lightly kissed her forehead.

“Thank you Taron.”

“And you know Lyndsey will shut down any shit.” He assured her.

“Yeah I know.”

“And she tripped you and there are a number of witnesses. You were just making some tea.”

“Yeah that’s true.” Robyn replied through a yawn. She had been trying to keep it in, but her body betrayed her and a long one escaped.

“You are exhausted Robyn.”

“And you are freezing.”

Taron’s body gave a full involuntary shiver at her words and he wrapped her up in another hug. “Are you sure you are ok Robyn. I am honestly genuinely worried about you.”

“I am. It literally hits me for a minute. I still have a bit of a headache but then I know I haven’t really eaten anything since breakfast. So I just need some food and sleep.” She gave him a further squeeze. “I normally feel like myself after a good sleep.”

“I see lots of cuddles in our future this weekend.”

“I will not complain. Now along with your own food and sleep, you really need to get warm Taron.”

“Let’s grab something to eat, head back to the trailer, eat and then I will shower and you can get started on getting some rest.” While he still was not overly happy with the whole situation, Taron didn’t want to have Robyn standing around longer than she had to and he was desperate to warm up, his dry clothes and the warm hugs only just barely stopping him from shaking.

“Plan made.” Robyn agreed, looking over his shoulder at the two plates of food that were still sitting on the table. “May have to ask Tom to reheat the dinners for us.”

“No need.” Tom came to stand opposite them. “I will re-dish for you. I have the cake ready to go and I made Taron his tea too and it will still be hot for him. I added some cans to the tub for you both. I know Taron has water in his trailer if you want that. Give me two and I will dish you up some fresh dinners.” Tom gave them both a wide smile. “I think this crew is going to have a tonne of IOU’s for you. First cookies and then you put that woman in her place. We have all been aching to say something to her.”

Robyn groaned, moving out of Taron’s arms, standing beside him at the beverage table. “I just can’t help myself.”

Tom just laughed. “Taron, I love her.”

Taron grinned, feeling his cheeks heat a little. “Hmmm, seems to be going around.”

Tom handed the tub he had prepared with some food and drinks for them over to Taron. “You take that and follow me down and I will get you two hot dinners.”

Both Robyn and Taron walked to the top of catering tables and when Tom had plated up two dinners, he also placed a second plate over them to keep their food warm, reaching over to the grey tub, placing one very carefully on the space he had left for the bigger plates.

Robyn helped him to place the second plate onto the tub. “Thank you Tom.”

“No thank you. One of our best dinners so far.” He grinned.

“I like to make sure my set visits are remembered.” She joked but was her face cringed a little.

“It was appreciated. Now go and eat and recharge.”

“Thank you Tom.” Taron said, giving the chef a nod.

“Like I said, love her.”

“Hmmm me too.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, giving Taron a gentle nudge, they turned and together walked down the centre of the tent, the crew holding out their hands to either shake Robyn’s or give her a high five. Robyn turning to look at Taron who just shrugged at her, then laughing as she took to a light jog, holding her two hands out to high five each person as they sat at the tables, laughter echoing around the tent. She waited for Taron at the door to the tent, holding it back so he could walk out easily while carrying the tub. It took them two minutes to get to this trailer and she opened the door for him again and once both were inside, she closed the door behind them. Taron set the tub down on the table and without asking or waiting, stepped into Robyn’s space and gave her a hug.

“What is this for?” Robyn asked him, not complaining about the hug but just a little confused.

“I just wanted another one.” He murmured into her shoulder. “Please tell me if you start to feel shit Robyn ok? I hate to think of you feeling shit and not telling anyone. Lucy is a wonderful onset medic.”

Robyn breathed in every part of him, just wanting to hug him forever. There was no denying that his request was genuine and came straight from his heart and she nodded into his shoulder. “I will. I am fine now. Just a lingering headache but with some food and sleep it will go.” She gave his jaw a very light kiss. “You been to see Lucy a lot?”

Taron laughed at her question. “Only for minor grazes and scratches but she is lovely.” He took his arms away from her. “So food?”

“God yes. I am starving!”

Laughing more, Taron moved and took a seat at one side of the table, Robyn copying him, sitting the opposite side.

“I can see why you love catering so much.” Robyn said lifting one of the top plates to see what meal was underneath. “It looks amazing.”

“It is so good.” Taron agreed taking the plate Robyn was handing him, setting it down in front of himself. “And good choice. Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome.” Robyn helped him to take everything from the tub, taking a can of diet coke and carton of orange juice for herself, letting Taron lift the tub from the table and place it on the floor behind his seat, giving them more room on the table. She lifted the top plate from her dinner and her mouth was already watering with the delicious smell that filtered to her. Uncurling her cutlery, she tucked straight into the fish pie, Taron doing the same thing with his casserole, both nodding to each other as they ate. “Once done, shower.” She said in-between bites.

“I am already thinking about the warm water Robyn, don’t worry but after dessert. I see you went for the chocolate cake?”

“Yeah for me. The cheesecake is for you.” Robyn grinned.

Taron faked shocked and the dug his fork into the chocolate cake to his left, taking a big chunk of it out and eating it. “Already started on it, it’s mine.” With his mouth still full, he laughed as Robyn did the exact thing as him then taking a bite from the cheesecake too. “Should have started with the cake.”

“Hmm…” Robyn agreed, going back to her food. It was tasty and exactly what her body was craving and having a meal with Taron was always a plus. He was tucking into the chocolate cake before Robyn had finished her pie, leaving some of the chocolate goodness on the plate, going straight for the cheese cake next, his tea already gone, his own can of coke opened. “Hungry?” Robyn asked him with amusement.

“Hmm?” He asked his mouth full.

“Wanna slow down there rocketman. Your stomach is going to protest, as it normally does.”

Taron gave her a closed lip smile, taking a drink and then answering her. “Sorry. We are normally pushed for time on set so you learn how to eat quickly.”

“You have two hours.”

“Yeah about an hour and half now.” He explained, dropping his fork. “I am going to go and shower now. Can I trust that you will be ok here by yourself?”

“Technically I won’t be by myself.”

“You know what I mean.” Taron said as he got to his feet.

“I can’t get up to too much trouble in your trailer.”

Taron rose an eyebrow her way. “Robyn you got into trouble making me tea.”

“That was all on her and…” She saw his lips twitch. “And yeah alright, I get your point. I won’t go anywhere except to lay down on the bed.”

“That’s my girl.” Taron gave her cheeks a playful pinch and then made his way into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and moved straight to turn on the water. He stripped, hanging his clothes onto the small hook on the back of the door and stepped carefully into shower, closing the glass doors behind him. The water was gloriously warm and he just stood, letting it drench him. The faucet was nowhere near as powerful as he would have liked, the shower just there for a quick use between scenes if needed but he could finally feel some heat returning to his body. Runing his hands through his hair, he squeezed out some shampoo, washing his hair, then using his staple lime shower gel to scrub himself with. He stood once again, just under the spray turning up the dial to increase the temperature of the water, his body properly starting to warm up, his skin soaking up the heat the water was giving him. Standing in the shower gave him mind plenty of time to think and he was more than ready to carry Robyn to the medic even with the protest he knew she would make. He also didn’t want to have a fight with her over it instead making his own little plan to get back to his trailer to check on her as many times as he could, even contemplating ringing her mam to speak to her himself. He just felt that while she was talking with him, she was holding back on a lot of the discomfort she was in and he hated to think of her quietly sitting in misery all weekend. Placing his hands on the wall in front of him, he moved to let the water trickle over his back.

“One weekend…” He sighed closing his eyes. “Just one.”

Straightening up, he turned around and stood still, trying to turn his thoughts positive, smiling a little at the fact that Robyn was probably making herself more than comfortable on his bed and he suddenly decided he was warm enough, turning off the water. With a towel wrapped around his waist, a second one around his shoulders to keep the cooler air off his skin and with a third, rubbed his hair back and forth to get most of the wetness out. He was so thankful for those on set who kept his trailer filled with clean towels and he always had some to hand and used the one around his waist to dry his body, slipping back into clothes from before but leaving his t-shirt off, wanting to put on a jumper instead once he was back in the bedroom, preferring to be completely cosy for his quick nap. Before he left the bathroom, he did a quick tidy up, bundling all the wet towels he had left on the floor into the laundry hamper, giving the shower a wash down, the sink a wipe down, tidying up his things, just a little conscious that Robyn would be using the bathroom at some point, wanting it to be somewhat clean.

Robyn enjoyed every bit of her dinner, her plate clean when she was done, then pulling the half-eaten desserts towards her to finish them off, Taron leaving half of each type of cake for her to enjoy. She could already feel her body soaking up the food, her headache lifting a little too. Eating the last crumb of cheesecake from the plate, she sat back in the seat and found herself smiling. She knew her body was telling her something was definitely wrong but without her test results, there wasn’t anything she could do about it so was determined in following through with her plan of just enjoying her weekend and Taron’s company. Her long awaited squishy hug, while had been for a different reason then she expected, was wonderful and extra cuddly then normal, the second one in his trailer, just as nice. It was just so lovely to feel his arms around her, always loving how he just held her tight, snuggling right into her and she adored how cuddly he got this time, feeling every move his chest made as he breathed against her. It always just settled her and considering why he had hugged her to begin it, she was so thankful for him in every way.

After a quick sit down, Robyn then got to her feet and started to tidy up their used plates, putting everything back into the tub Tom had given them, throwing the empty cans into the bin. She was glad to still hear the shower running, Taron finally taking advantage of his time to get warm. She took a look to the bedroom and saw his teddy fleece on the bed and once she had finished clearing the table, was going to made up his bed so it was ready for him to just fall right into, giving him every minute to get as much sleep as he could.

Her head turned when there was a knock on the trailer door, feeling her heart start to beat a little faster at who it could be.

“Robyn? It’s Matthew.”

Her whole body had stood on guard until she heard that familiar voice and walked to the door and opened it. “Hey.”

“Hello!” He grinned. “Can I come in?”

“Sure but Taron’s in the shower.”

“It’s actually you I wanted to see.” Robyn stepped back and let Matthew into the trailer. “I won’t take up too much of your time.” He said as he closed the trailer door, leaning against the seat Taron had been sitting in. “So Simone…”

“Simone who?” Robyn asked, her words making Matthew laugh but she leaned against the counter in the kitchen, her face turning more serious. “Yeah sorry for the shit back there on set.”

“Technically you weren’t on set.” Matthew quickly argued back with another smile.

“That’s what Taron said.”

“You should listen to him. Sometimes he knows what he is talking about.” Robyn looked at him through her eyelashes. “Simone was out of line Robyn. Some of the crew filled me in when I went to catering a while ago. She can’t be pulling stunts like that, especially when I know you have been very nice to her. She really could have hurt you when she tripped you up.”

Robyn lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Yeah I probably would have hit the floor but maybe I should have let it happen. Would have saved the show in the catering tent.”

“Now Robyn, you know I love a great confrontation scene and you have given me a few.” Matthew walked closer to her, clearly seeing a blush fill her cheeks. “I will get you on camera someday.”

“Never going to happen. I was being so good, staying behind the camera, out of the way, off the set and then boom. Drama.”

“No drama.” Assured Matthew. “I am never going to chastise anyone for standing up for themselves. She literally found a way to trip you up and naturally you are going to react.”

“In front of everyone.”

Matthew gave her a quick sideways hug. “Just the crew and Tom, who rumour has it you bribed with cookies last time you were here.” Robyn let her face fall into her hands, groaning. “They were pretty good cookies.”

“Matthew…”

“No judgement here at all.” He said turning to look at her. “Really none. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Well I am getting used to be embarrassing myself on Taron’s set but I never wanted to cause such a bloody scene.”

“You didn’t and like I said, you weren’t on set. She won’t be saying a word about any of it and if she does or even tries, she knows what will happen and Taron’s team are one of the best. You really think he will let anything and I mean anything come from this?” He watched her shake her head. “Then, don’t be worrying about it. You were within your right to retaliate after what happened and I just wanted to make sure you knew all is good, ok?”

“Yeah ok.”

“It will always follow him Robyn. There is always going to be some idiot who tries something. I know you have already experienced some of it, well this is just another version of it. Unfortunately it happens but I know well you can handle yourself and without a doubt will have his back no matter what.”

“Always.” She said firmly.

“And he absolutely adores you too.” Matthew added giving her shoulder a light nudge. “Right, I am going to leave you be now. Can I take these dishes for?” He asked walking over to the table.

“I can bring it back to catering. I know you are busy.”

“Nah, not at all. I am heading back to get some coffee. I will bring it back for you.”

“Thank you Matthew.”

“No worries at all.” He picked up the tub from where Taron had left it and thanked Robyn as she opened the trailer door for him, stepping out to let him pass. “And will you pass a message onto Taron for me please?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Tell him to take an extra forty-five minutes. Simone used up my time so I never got to go over my notes for the next few scenes.”

“Really?” Robyn asked knowing how much the extra time would mean to Taron. “That much?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks Matthew. Taron will be thrilled.”

“It will be a longer nap for him.” Matthew grinned “You can tell him we will probably have to go longer this morning but he is used to that and as always, you can storm my set whenever you want.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at him but knew he was just messing with her and so glad for his lovely words and support. Her visits to set, although each one brought a different and new experience, were always filled with such a lovely encouragement and new friendships.

#Robyn and Taron #Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Worry #Angst #Nerves #I've got your back #Protection

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astromechs · 3 years ago

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keep whatever it is (that's compelling you on)

HERE IT IS, my matrix resurrections spec fic, completed and in under the wire before the trailer! i think i'm ready to quit fussing over this, and i'm really excited to get it out into the world!

also here on ao3!

01.

Every single morning, Thomas A. Anderson is jolted awake at approximately 8:15 AM by the shrill of the same alarm, shovels in the same shitty cereal before stumbling into one of the same five shitty suits that he has to remember to get dry-cleaned, takes the same seat on the subway on the way to work — where he sits in the same chair for eight hours straight with minimal breaks, staring at his computer screen (or, more often, out into nothing) until it’s time to take the same subway back to his shitty apartment, order from the same rotation of shitty takeout, and find some mindless, banal distraction while he ignores texts that don’t even matter anyway before he falls asleep to eventually wake up and do it all over again.

It’s nothing special — just the average life of an average mid-grade programmer at the average tech conglomerate. Comfortable, sure, and a dream many would kill to achieve; he knows this, knows this every time he passes the poor old woman who’s feeding pigeons in her ratty coat from the battered metal bench on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. He slips her whatever spare change he has on him — a $20 bill, on the days he’s lucky, but often less than that — and, without fail, she always accepts, with a warm smile and kind eyes that seem to stare right into his soul, seeing the deepest parts of it.

Like she knows him. And that’s what’s weird.

He tries not to put too much thought into it, because, honestly, he tries not to put too much thought into anything at all; he’s found that to be the most effective way to navigate the machine that systematically runs his rhythmic, mundane life.

But even so, there are things that he knows he can’t shake.

One afternoon in late February, when the cut of the wind had not remotely suggested that spring would just be a month away, he’d passed the woman on the bench as always, but he could’ve sworn that the whole flock of pigeons scattered on the sidewalk at her feet had frozen for a split second. Like they’d been… glitching. In a blink, everything had returned to normal, and he’d spent about three days (and three sleepless nights) trying to convince himself he’d been seeing things, that he’d just been spending too much time actually working on his assigned program for once and that maybe he should take some of his accumulated vacation days? And the following week, he had, but….

No time off to try to clear his head would ever change the fact that this hadn’t been an isolated incident.

Because sometimes — he swears he sees pieces of code fall through his field of vision; a blink and then they’re gone, but it happens too often not to be a pattern, and no matter how much he might want to for the sake of his own sanity, he can’t just brush that aside. Sometimes, flashes come to his mind like barely-remembered dreams, in idle moments and just on the edge of the line that separates sleep from waking consciousness, so real that he knows they’re memories. Dark tunnels that haven’t seen the sun for centuries. Cold, so cold that no amount of warmth, human or otherwise, can really combat. Running, desperately bounding up the fire escape to the third floor of a rundown motel, three men in sunglasses and perfectly-tailored suits in close pursuit, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he can barely hear the phone ring from Room 303, the place he has to get to, because everything depends on it. A barrage of bullets in his chest, one right after the other, back slumping against the wall as his heart gives out, vision fading to grey and then to black, but a voice, reaching through it all to call him, tether him….

Neo.

There are things that he knows he can’t shake, and sometimes, he thinks he had another life. Another name.

Another purpose.

He’s haunted by the ghost of it.

It’s the second of April — at least, that’s what the screen of his phone tells him, because otherwise he wouldn’t know, or care to know. A Friday, and all the faceless commuters are packed like sardines into this subway car, headed home for weekends that are sure to be as inconsequential as his own. Today, he has to stand holding the rail for the ride home; a woman trying to juggle both a baby and two bags of groceries had just barely managed to stumble onto the train before the doors had closed, and he’d sprung up, more than glad to give up his seat to someone in greater need.

She tries to thank him, profusely and repeatedly, but with where he’s standing, he would have to twist to keep facing her, so, with a nod and the barest hint of a smile, he turns away to spend the trip the way he always does: in solitude.

The route back to the station just down the block from his apartment building is never smooth, by any stretch of the imagination, but today, it’s bumpier than usual; the train car jerks and jostles, until, eventually, it sends him colliding into back of the passenger standing next to him.

He’s just about to stammer out some automatic, awkward apology, but then —

Blue eyes meet his, clear, crisp blue, and a jolt strikes him right to the core.

He thinks — no, he knows, he knows — he’s seen these eyes.

Neo. In the darkest corners of his mind, the voice whispers again.

Time freezes, glitches, around him, around him and this stranger with familiar blue eyes. He sees the light leave them, and then come right back. He sees warmth, what something is telling him had once been the only thing able to keep the cold of the real away; that warmth spreads through now, to the tips of him, and he has a sense, one he doesn’t entirely understand, that something has just clicked into place.

Behind sunglasses, another pair of eyes watches them from across the car.

“You all right?” Neo.

He sees brows knit in concern, and for the first time, he pays attention to the face that the eyes belong to. Probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in… more than one life, he’d have to guess, is now in front of him; he isn’t so detached and disconnected that he doesn’t notice that. Her short dark hair is cut into a severe bob, and she’s dressed in black from head to toe — from her coat and gloves, to her boots. It suits her, somehow.

After a beat, he finally remembers to speak. “Yeah. I — sorry.” The subway jerks to a halt; he glances up, and adds quickly, after clearing his throat, “This is… my stop. Excuse me. Sorry.”

Pushing past her, pushing past everyone in his way, he disembarks to the station, and when his feet touch solid pavement, he takes off at a sprint. Up the stairs (third floor… Room 303….), down the sidewalk (agents, just behind… he can beat them, if he just runs faster than he ever has…), not stopping until the mundane certainty of his shitty apartment building is within his sights.

Just before he makes it safely inside, he catches a glimpse of the old woman on the bench watching him, her smile wider than he’s ever seen it. Maybe, even, almost inhumanly wide.

10.

Her name is Natalie.

That’s what he learns about a week later, when he bumps into her again in front of the grocery store on the corner down from the subway station, the one he always chooses out of convenience. Quite literally; he’s distracted, disconnected, and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s collided with another body, contents of the two bags under his arms spilling out onto the sidewalk. His apologies are hurried and stammered, but her hands are gentle as she moves to help, brushing his more than once. Her smile is soft when their eyes meet.

Over the next several months, he learns a lot of other things, too.

He learns that she takes her coffee with cream and no sugar, and that she always leaves the barista a generous tip. He learns that she’s a genius with tech, better than him and his two computer science degrees and half-cushy corporate job could ever hope to be, and has his whole apartment practically rewired in an hour one day. He learns that if he’s quiet and still, her black cat has no qualms with being his friend. He learns that her lips curve up in just a certain way and her eyes crinkle when she’s just about to laugh.

And he learns that kissing her feels like coming home, as familiar and peaceful as it is new and strange. He learns that with her, coming together, becoming one with another person, is like nothing else.

For the first time in what he can remember, he knows what it feels like to be alive.

(Only it isn’t… is it? The first time. Somehow, just like he knows that he sees the same person walk past him twice, like he knows that those glitches start happening on a near-daily basis, like he knows that the old woman on the bench is smiling at him more broadly than ever….

Their lives have collided, and given each other meaning, purpose, before.)

11.

In his dreams, he sees a city entirely built from light. Spires touch the sky like fireworks, blindingly bright, and with every step, flames ripple out from his feet, making the next one all too clear.

Inevitable.

This is where his path had always led.

In his dreams, he can’t see her face. He can only hear struggling gasps for breath, and a voice that only grows shakier. He can only feel the metal that pierces her stomach, the blood that pools on her shirt. The faint heartbeat he can do nothing to restart.

Inevitable.

(You were right, Smith. You are always right.)

He wakes with a start, drenched in a cold sweat (as cold as their last kiss), gasping for breath. Next to him on the bed, Natalie stirs and shifts closer; when he reaches out a tentative hand, lets his fingers graze over her stomach, she’s warm.

His eyes scrunch tightly shut. Code falls behind his lids like the rain that patters against the windows outside.

100.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary on this day in early fall. A breeze rustles the trees as they walk hand in hand through the park, and provides the first hint that cooler weather is on the way. Children’s laughter from the nearby playground fills the air. Dogs chase each other on the grass. Natalie sips her coffee, cream with no sugar; they enjoy the contented silence that falls between them, only punctuated by her soft smile.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary — except for everything that is.

They meet each other’s eyes, her blue to his brown, and in an instant, everything changes.

It’s hard to tell who sees it first, but — the flash of recognition envelops both of them. Vague memories, the ones that have floated over him like a constant cloud, just out of reach, are in his hands, in his brain, in his heart. He’d had another life once, another name. And it’d been —

“Neo.”

She whispers it on an awed breath, tears forming in her eyes. The coffee cup slips from her grasp, long since forgotten; she lifts that hand to his face, fingers tracing the rise of his cheekbone.

Tears swim in his vision, too, tears and strands of code, falling. Falling. Nothing makes sense and yet everything makes sense, no more so than when the name falls out of his mouth, the last piece of a particularly jumbled puzzle: “Trinity.”

But a thousand words he doesn’t know how to say don’t even begin to get a chance to form. He feels the eyes watching them more than he sees them; both hands drop to his sides, and he tenses, ready to fight.

He’s barely aware that the old woman who’s usually on the bench near his apartment building approaches on the sidewalk. She looks between them, nods, and:

“They’re coming, kiddo,” she tells him, voice severe, with none of her usual warmth, as she grips his arm. “You need to run.”

101.

At sunset, a man in a white suit, tall and imposing, joins the old woman on a park bench near the playground, but says nothing; from all appearances, it looks as though he barely acknowledges her at all. They remain, just like this, as people filter out one by one under the steadily darkening sky, returning to their lives.

They always remain through every iteration, the Mother and Father of the Matrix.

Preoccupied with purpose and the inefficiency of wasting time, as is his programming, the Father is the first to break the silence.

"I informed you it was a dangerous game.”

The Oracle says nothing in response.

She merely smiles.

#neo x trinity #the matrix #the matrix resurrections #neo #trinity #* fic #song title is from cascades by metric #which for some reason just feels like a ship song for them #anyway i'm so hyped for tomorrow!

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audreysfabulousblog · 5 years ago

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Imagine Being Pregnant with Jimmy Darling’s child

Relationship: Jimmy Darling x Reader

Fandom: AHS (Freak Show)

Warning: language, insecurities, nothing you wouldn’t see on the show tbh

Word Count: 2,556

Author’s Notes: I’ve never posted my writing on this blog and I’ve never written for AHS. I’ve been watching pregnancy announcement videos because they’re so pure and cute. And I just finished Freak Show yesterday and love Jimmy Darling. So, when this idea popped into my head, I had to write it! Thought I’d share as I don’t see too many imagines for him and idk, why not? Also not edited so don’t come for me lol

Jupiter was too hot. It had a heat you weren’t used to and if it wasn’t for the job a friend of a friend had found for you - a job you desperately needed - you wouldn’t have ever come to this tiny little town. You’d never have wondered off to see the freak show that your co-workers insisted on dragging you along with them to as it was the most exciting thing to happen in Jupiter since the first movie theater opened about fifteen years ago. That’s where you met him.

Jimmy Darling.

You spotted him by the tent, just walking by as you all filed in from the heat outside. He was wearing a simple white tank top and jeans. It was just a glimpse of him but you could tell by his side profile he was handsome. Your heart fluttered a little at the thought of such a handsome young man here tonight.

When he stepped out onto the stage after the announcement of “Lobster Boy,” you stared. His eyes scanned out into the crowd. He’d tell you later that he’d learnt to scan outwards over the tops of people’s heads to avoid seeing their faces. To avoid seeing them stare at his hands. The bright spotlight usually helped but the seats your friends and gotten weren’t good and the light of the spotlight faded when it reached you.

Your friends giggled when they saw him look a you. You blushed at the attention, both that of your friends and his. But Jimmy said he stared because when his eyes swept over towards you, automatically catching sight of the faces of the people not blinded in the spotlight (a reaction he couldn’t stop from happening though he often tried to avoid the sight of the shocked horror or cruel laughter at his hands), he found himself stuck. Your eyes weren’t on his hands. You seemed enraptured by in his face. And when you noticed your staring was caught, your blush confused him, shocked him, exhilarated him.

It wasn’t long before he found you after the show. It wasn’t long before he took you on a date. It wasn’t long before he captured your heart.

It was too hot. The sun glared down at you as you leaned against Jimmy’s trailer. Your mind replayed your meeting over and over as you waited for him to come back from his errand for Elsa. You closed your eyes. It was too hot to think.

But think you had to and had been doing for the past week. Ever day and every hour of those days was spent thinking. You couldn’t sleep since you got the confirmation from the doctor.

Your period was late. At first you told yourself it was stress. You tried not to think about it. But you knew. And then the doctor said it was so and you had no other choice but to think about it.

How would Jimmy react? What would you do depending on it? You didn’t want to raise your child with the freak show. You saw how they were treated. You didn’t want it near Elsa. But this was Jimmy’s home and they were good people. But you didn’t want this life for your child. But what about what Jimmy wanted? Or didn’t.

“What’s a frown like that doing on a girl as beautiful as you?” Jimmy’s voice came from a little ways away.

You opened your eyes to see him walking your way. He had his beautiful wide smile on his handsome face. You hoped the baby looked like him.

As you went to push yourself off the trailer, Jimmy placed each hand firmly against the metal either side of your body, forcing you to stay in place. The space between you closed quickly as he pressed himself against you. His smile still in place as his eyes drank you in.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said in that tone of his. The one that was all lust and cool on the outside but rang with a strong note of sweetness and affection. You loved so much about him but his soul might be your favorite thing. He couldn’t help that his core was sweet and loving.

His lips hovered over yours in a tease that he knew drove you mad with want; it was something he loved to do. His smile turned to a smug smirk. You drank in his presence. Everything from the way his breath felt across your lips to the faint smell of sweat from a hard day’s work.

You wanted to touch him but you were so scared that if you did you’d never let go. It was easy for the two of you to get lost in each other and Jimmy seemed to never get enough of you. All it would take would be the right kiss. The right touch and he’d whisk you into his trailer. It would be so easy.

But if you did that you’d never have the guts to tell him. You’d be too scared he’d push you from his arms afterwards. And that most of all would break your heart.

“You all right?” he asked, noticing your distinct lack of reciprocation.

You nodded at him, seeing the bit of worry on his face disappear with an easy smile but you had to do it. You felt your face twist in with nerves and you shook your head. The small furrow between his brows came back and you knew as you closed your eyes his expression had turned fully worried now. His hands came down from the trailer and went to your hips. He held you close, confused.

He wasn’t an idiot. You knew he’d noticed that you’d been off all week and every day you thought about telling him but didn’t. You needed to figure out the perfect way to tell him, but there wasn’t any. So, here you were. Back against his trailer in the blazing heat of Jupiter trying to tell the man you loved the scariest thing you’d ever have to say.

“You’re scaring me, baby,” he said, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh that sounded unconvincing for such a seasoned performer. You opened your eyes to take him in one last time before the news was out and couldn’t be taken back. Before everything changed.

“I’m pregnant,” you said slowly or quickly, you weren’t sure. It was a statement. Not a question or a reply. It just was.

Jimmy didn’t react at first. He stared, processing. Then his hands left your body and he stumbled backwards.

“Shit!” he spat. He paced a small circle. “Shit.”

You stayed frozen in place, watching him. You saw the emotions play out before you but you couldn’t understand what they meant. Jimmy wasn’t able to stand still as the news sank in. He paced. He swore. He swore some more.

“I thought you should know,” you said quietly when he finally stopped, lost in thought. He turned to look at you, his face unreadable now.

“Shit.”

“Can you say something else?” you asked, laughing at the absurdity.

“How long have you known?”

“A week. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

“Why now?” he asked before he turned and waved off the question, “Ah, it doesn’t matter.” He paced again before coming to an abrupt stop. “Shit!”

You steeled yourself. “Aren’t you happy?”

Jimmy froze before spinning to face you. His eyes were wide and they searched your face frantically.

“Happy?” he asked in disbelief.

You could feel your eyes start to water. Was such a notion so far fetched that he couldn’t even fathom it? You sniffled.

“Many men are excited to find out they’re going to become fathers,” you pointed out, trying to force the tears in your eyes back.

Jimmy practically ran up to you and his hands grasped your shoulders. His eyes were wide and his face was almost blank with shock, his lips parted.

“You’re not upset,” he stated, noting your words. You shook your head.

“I’m having your baby. How could I be anything but overjoyed?”

“You want this?” His voice had taken on a tone of childlike hope and happiness and you couldn’t help but laugh as you nodded back your response. He let out a sign of disbelief as a smile dared to come to his lips.

He stepped back, one hand dropping to his side as another came up to push his card through his hair. He froze and you watched as he slowly brought his hand down until it was eye level. He stared at it. You saw his eyes go wide with horror as if he had forgotten about his deformity for a while. He gasped before dropping the hand and turning away from you quickly.

“Jimmy?” you asked, not understanding what was happening.

A shuddering breath came as a response and Jimmy’s hands came up to his body as he hugged himself tightly before he collapsed on the ground. You rushed to his side.

He was crying.

As you knelt beside him, his hands came to his head, cradling it. He cried harder and started to rock. You reached out and tried to turn him to face you but he flinched. Suddenly he scrambled away from you, eyes locking with yours with the most heartbreaking fear you’ve ever seen.

“Jimmy?” you asked, feeling your tears returning.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered in a broken voice. His eyes went to your stomach, “I’m so sorry,” he cried.

“What are you talking about? I told you I’m happy. What’s wrong? Why are you so upset. I though you - I mean you were smiling, but now - “ you sucked in a breath, shaking your head.

“It’s a curse.” He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “A curse that I’ll have no doubt passed down. A curse I’ve put on your baby.”

“Our baby. Jimmy, it’s our baby. And there isn’t a curse.”

You crawled over to him but he stood up quickly to get away. He walked away and you were scared he was going to leave you there. And that would be that. But he stopped. He stopped and turned. He was so scared. He was so guilty.

“You deserve to be with a normal man. Not a freak. You deserve to go on dates in public without being stared at and to get married like a normal girl. You deserve to have babies that don’t have hands like these,” he lifted his hands up and upon seeing them, fresh tears and pain erupted once more across his face. “And that baby,” he gasped a heavy breath in. “That baby.” He looked at your stomach, though you were unsure if he could see at all through his tears. “What have I done to that sweet, innocent baby.” He turned his hands raking down his face as he heaved a sob of disgust and self hatred.

You stared at him, letting his words sink in.

“Shut up,” you said as a silence fell between you, the only noise the occasional shuddering gasp of breath from Jimmy as he tried to breath through the tears. He turned to look at you in shock. “You shut the hell up, Jimmy Darling.” Conviction was building in you and you let it guide you. “Finding out that I’m pregnant with our child is the best news I’ve ever gotten. I can’t wait to meet our child. And that’s because it means there’s part of you growing in me. There’s part of you that’s going to be with me forever. This child is the proof of our love and I love it so damn much.”

You walked over to him slowly, his facial expression unreadable once more.

“Any child can be born with a deformity. And I know that this child probably will have your hands and that just means they’re going to be even more like their daddy. And that, is the best thing it could ever hope for. Because it’s daddy is strong, and brave, and kind, and loyal, and beautiful inside and out.”

Jimmy tried to turn his head away but you grabbed hold hold of his chin, gently keeping him facing you.

“You are. And I love you for it. Just like I will love this baby. You won’t love it any less if it’s born with your hands or something else will you?”

“No,” he whispered.

“No,” you smiled, tears now falling down your cheeks. “Because you’re going to be a good daddy, Jimmy. I know you are. And I am going to love that child just as much as I love you.”

Jimmy smiled. His reached out and pulled you towards him by your hips. Your foreheads rested against each other and your eyes closed. Jimmy’s breath came across your lips like before. A moment that was less than a half hour ago but feels like a lifetime ago now.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered gently, as if he had to be as careful with the words as one would be with holding a newborn itself. You smiled, nodding against his skin.

“Our baby,” you whispered and felt the puff of air from his lips as he laughed in happy disbelief.

It was only a few second later when he parted, just enough to look into your eyes. His hands were still holding your hips and your bodies were pressed close. Your arms at some point went around his shoulders, hands finding their way into his hair. You didn’t move as he looked at you. He was frowning, but this time in simple confusion.

“Why were you upset before if you’re so happy?”

You swallowed, unsure how to say it. Jimmy waited patiently. Your fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck. Often, doing this alone was enough to work Jimmy up and distract him. But it wouldn’t work this time. You knew it, of course, but you still had to try.

“I was scared you wouldn’t want it.” Jimmy was silent. “Me.” You didn’t meet his eyes. “Us.”

His right hand came up to cup tilt your chin up so he could see you properly.

“How could I not want you?” he asked, and that tone of his was back. You laughed, a single hot tear streaking down your cheek. He wiped it away, a loving smile on his lips. “How could I not want this,” he said and his left hand slid from your hip to your stomach. You smiled, feeling a giddy like happiness spread across your chest with the warmth of love. Jimmy smiled down at you with love in his eyes.

“What’s going on here then?” Ethel asked as she came across the two of you still in a tight embrace, eyes wet and red with tears with love in your eyes and smiles on your lips.

“I’m pregnant,” you yelled back with a smile and Jimmy beamed. He picked you up and twirled you around before claiming your lips hungrily in a passionate kiss.

“Shit,” Ethel said as the news soaked in.

You laughed into Jimmy’s mouth as he held you close, refusing to end the kiss just yet.

#jimmy darling #ahs #american horror story #freak show #american horror story freak show #american horror story s4 #ahs freakshow #ahs freak show #ahs s4 #evan peters #jimmy #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy x reader #jimmy darling imagine

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

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Ladrien/Adrienette: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Twelve: The Realization

Adrien scooted away, back to a suitable distance on the picnic blanket. “Um…so…maybe we should talk about, like, normal things now?” he suggested, grabbing a petit four from the tiered tea tray.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ladybug chuckled nervously, scratching at her cheek as she tried to take deep breaths to get her racing heart rate and flaming blush down. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You,” he replied immediately.

Her blush only worsened. “What about me?”

“Personal things…but not incredibly personal things,” he gave a temperate response, reaching but not pushing too hard. “You know. Things like your favourite book, favourite movie, favourite colour. What kind of music you listen to. Hobbies. Tell me about you.”

“Only if you tell me about you too,” she haggled.

He chuckled as his own cheeks started to heat up. “You haven’t had enough of getting to know the real Adrien Agreste yet? I would have thought I’d have scared you off a dozen times over by now.”

She shook her head and smiled shyly. “Definitely not. What you’ve told me has only made me more intrigued.”

He gave her an appraising once-over, debating before finally giving in. “All right. So long as you’re not sick of me yet.”

“Never,” she assured. “First question?”

“What colour are your bedroom walls painted?” he inquired.

She quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected question and took a minute before answering cautiously. “…Pink. Why?”

“What shade?” he pressed, wanting to be able to envisage it exactly.

“Light pink. Like cherry blossoms,” she granted, giving in to his curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering about the girl on the other side of the mask,” he confessed. “Sometimes I think about what she’s like, what kinds of activities she does in her free time, what kinds of things she surrounds herself with.”

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked away. “I don’t know if I’m worth that much thought,” she chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a normal girl. Not that interesting.”

“You’re interesting to me,” he informed gently, a soft affection in his eyes that made her chest feel tight.

“Oh…. I…I’m glad,” she managed with a bashful smile, wishing she could get across what his words truly meant to her. “Well…in that case…what’s your next question?”

The rest of their rooftop picnic continued in that vein with Ladybug sharing that she was a huge fan of Jagged Stone but had developed a liking for the music XY was putting out since he cut ties with his father’s label and started collaborating with Luka Couffaine.

Adrien confessed that he didn’t do well with scary movies because they gave him nightmares and made him afraid to shower.

“What horror movie had anything to do with showers?” Ladybug replied quizzically. “You mean because of the shower scene in The Shining or Psycho?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen those movies, actually, and the trailer for The Shining freaked me out enough that I feel like I’ve experienced enough of it for one lifetime,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I feel so vulnerable in there. Naked. Alone. I feel like a sitting duck. Anything could come and get me while I was defenseless. I’m really easily startled after I see a horror movie, so I’m always anxious about showering for at least a week afterwards.”

Ladybug nodded, trying (and failing) not to picture Adrien in his shower complete with a stereotypically sexy backing track. It also took some effort not to volunteer to sit in his bathroom with him while he showered to protect him after he next watched a horror film.

She was very tempted to suggest watching a horror movie as part of their date so that she could make the offer.

Instead, she replied, “I can see why you would feel that way. I’m always jumpy after watching horror films too” like a normal, non-psychotic person.

They cleaned up their picnic and stowed the leftovers in the wicker basket, tucking it back into the seam between the roof and one of the small white domes topping the church for Ladybug to return for later.

She got out her yoyo and surreptitiously dropped them down into an alley a few streets over so that they could nonchalantly walk out and join the crowd of visitors enjoying the iconic sights and locals going about their daily lives.

“Um…I thought we could do some window shopping?” Ladybug tentatively suggested. “Walk around? People watch? Browse? It’s a nice day, so… I mean, I know it’s a little touristy, but—”

“—That sounds great,” he cut her off with a wide grin, slipping his hand into hers. “I actually haven’t seen much of Paris, despite growing up here,” he confessed sheepishly. “I’ve always been a little…um…”

He tried to think of a nice way to say, “held prisoner”.

“…sheltered, I guess, so I wouldn’t be opposed to playing tourist, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. No. Sure!” she agreed, a little flustered by the proximity of his radiant smile in the narrow alley as well as the weight and warmth of his hand in hers. “I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happy just being with you,” he countered with a wink, not noticing how she turned into a puddle of goo in response.

He gave her hand a squeeze and turned to guide them out of the alley and onto the cobbled street where visitors from all over the globe were moving from one shop to the next.

They too began to browse, chuckling at the whacky souvenirs for sale in shop after shop: cheap plastic trinkets, shirts, hats, magnets, shot glasses, snow globes…

Adrien held up a Paris-themed oven mitt in black, white, pink, and grey. “This is actually kind of cute,” he chuckled, musing, “It reminds me of Marinette…. I wonder if she’d like it.”

“I think she’d like anything if it was from you,” Ladybug sighed, heart filling to the brim once more as his thoughts drifted to her civilian identity.

Why had she never seen how much he liked her, how much Marinette meant to Adrien? She’d been blinded by his not obviously reciprocating her romantic feelings, so she’d missed out on how much he truly cared for her.

“You think?” he hummed, pleased at her response. “Maybe, but it’s not really practical. I’m sure she has dozens of oven mitts already with her parents being bakers, but… Could you do me a favor?” He looked to her with earnest eyes that made her gulp.

She bit her tongue to hold back the automatic, “Anything for you” that wanted to come out. “Uh, yeah. Sure. What do you need?”

“Could you take a picture and send it to me so I can text it to Marinette later? I left my phone at home so that my family couldn’t track the GPS,” he informed sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she readily agreed, taking a peek around to make sure that no one was watching before she flipped open her yoyo and snapped a quick picture, forwarding it to him.

“Thanks, Nelle,” he expressed warmly, as if she had fulfilled one of Princess Kaguya’s impossible quests.

“Sure thing.” She blushed as she boldly dared to join their hands once more, interlacing her fingers with his.

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

She loved when he did that.

“They even have the stereotypical accordion music,” Adrien snickered in amusement as he tossed a hundred euro note into the performer’s case as they passed. “It’s just like in the movies.”

“You’ve never been up here to Montmartre before?” Ladybug tried not to laugh as the accordionist quickly snatched the bill and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.

Adrien shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been for work, but I’ve never been able to just wander around like this. It’s so different, seeing it in a relaxed, natural atmosphere.”

Ladybug nodded, guiding him towards the Place du Tertre, a little cobbled square where artists had set up to sell their work. “Yeah, I’d imagine a photoshoot wouldn’t provide a very calm environment during which to sightsee.”

“Yeah, unfortunately not. It’s kind of…structured,” he sighed, getting distracted by a middle-aged artist setting out beautiful pastel watercolors of Notre Dame in different seasons at sunset as seen from the Left Bank.

“I wish I was artistic,” he hummed mournfully, moving along to peruse the other artists’ wares before he was tempted or coerced into buying something.

“You could be,” Ladybug encouraged, stepping in closer to avoid a collision with a young American woman who was also browsing.

He shook his head, laughing good-naturedly at himself. “I have, like, zero talent. I can’t even do stick-figures well.”

“You could if you practiced,” she insisted. “It’s true that some people are born with innate talent, but drawing and painting can be learned even if they don’t come naturally. Being artistic is a skill, and, with enough practice, you could learn to be artistic too.”

He hummed as he stopped to admire a medium-sized canvas where an autumn scene set in the Bois de Boulogne was taking form with scarlet, ochre, and tangerine leaves peppering the trees.

“I think ‘enough’ practice would take many years. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try,” he reasoned. “I’m definitely not going to magically gain the ability to produce anything close to that just by whining about how I wish I could do it.”

“You’re not whining,” she assured, inching in closer so that their shoulders brushed. She gave him a shy, heartening smile. “You’re just being honest about what you want for yourself, and it’s okay to do that. It’s not whining.”

She knew his father was often very critical and chastised Adrien whenever he seemed to slide even one toe over the arbitrary line Gabriel had mentally drawn for him. If possible, she wanted to help Adrien to see that it was okay to voice his desires and complaints from time to time without it being considered “whining”.

“Thanks,” he replied softly, the warm look in his eyes partially obscured behind his movie star sunglasses, but she was close enough to see it. “I really appreciate the encouragement. I don’t exactly get a lot of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about changing that,” she declared, giving his arm a squeeze.

He smiled affectionately, and they walked on around the square, continuing to browse the various artists’ renditions of many a famous Paris landmark.

“…You know,” he remarked thoughtfully. “My father actually does a fair amount of drawing for work. Maybe I could ask him to teach me.”

“That could be a good way to spend time together,” she agreed, nodding with a supportive smile.

Adrien cringed. “Except that my father isn’t the most patient man, so he’d probably get frustrated with my turtle’s pace progress and end up berating me instead of helping me get better. That’s kind of how our relationship works,” he admitted with a discouraged sigh.

Ladybug bit her lip, searching her mind for a way to build up his self-esteem and lighten the mood. “Well, Marinette isn’t the best artist around, but she does do some drawing as part of her own designing work, so, if you really want to learn, maybe she could get you started in the right direction.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to look at her. “Marinette…”

His brain ran into a mental brick wall as it processed for the first time how close she was and how familiar she looked…and not only because of how long he had cumulatively spent over the years staring at her as Ladybug.

“…Marinette…” he whispered, a revelation shaking him to his very core.

Ladybug had known him and fallen in love with him as a civilian, yet she didn’t think he’d say yes if she asked him out as herself. Ladybug and Marinette had intended to ask him out to coffee at the same time. The way Marinette acted around Chat Noir… He’d always marveled at how sassy and fun she was with him when he was the masked superhero as opposed to how she could barely talk to Adrien for about a year after they’d first met. In those moments when it was just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and being goofballs, she had reminded him so much of his Lady.

Now that he was looking at Ladybug and saying, “Marinette”, it all seemed so obvious.

Ladybug tipped her head to the side, waiting for Adrien to continue. “‘Marinette’…what? Is something wrong, Adrien?”

“Nope. Everything’s wonderful, Nette—uh—Nelle. Sorry. Just…” He mentally scrambled to pull together his thoughts and snap back into the moment because she was not going to be happy when she found out her secret was blown, and he really just wanted this date to continue forever, so…

“Sorry.” He covered up his flurry of thoughts with a practiced smile. “Just got distracted thinking about how wonderful Marinette is.”

“O-Oh,” she coughed, a crimson blush swelling up in her cheeks as she bashfully looked away. “Yeah. That’s…Marinette is…good.”

It had to be her…didn’t it? He was almost ninety-nine percent positive. There had to be some way to explain away the times he’d thought he’d seen them together over the years. Both his Lady and his Princess were smart enough to orchestrate some kind of elaborate scheme to throw him off the scent.

“Marinette is amazing,” he stressed, trying to keep his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin under wraps. “She’s super talented and such a fantastic person. If anyone could teach me how to draw, it would be her.”

Ladybug’s blush deepened. “You should ask her, then.”

“I think I will,” Adrien chuckled. “…Do you happen to draw, Nelle?”

“Uh…a little,” she answered, slightly thrown off by the question and still unsettled by his effusive praise of her civilian self. “I mean, I’m not very good, but I enjoy sketching and doodling.”

“What do you draw?” he inquired as innocently as possible.

“Oh, this and that,” she hedged with a shrug.

“Do you ever draw clothing?” he pressed, throwing his scruples out the window along with his resolution not to try to figure out her identity.

“Uh…sometimes,” she admitted. “I mean, like I said, I’m not very good, but…I like designing clothes and accessories. It’s always fun, especially when I have someone in mind I’m designing for. It’s fun to see how I can make their personalities come out in whatever I’m making.”

“I bet you’re amazing at it,” he cooed reverently, remember all the things he’d seen Marinette make for him and their friends over the years. “Have you ever thought about pursuing fashion professionally? Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Actually…” She bit her lip, wondering if she was giving a little too much away.

He smiled at her, hanging on her every word as if entranced.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have given it some thought. I mean, somewhat. I don’t know that I’d make it in the big leagues like your father, but…maybe it would be nice to have a little boutique where I took commissions and did a lot of custom pieces.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” he replied enthusiastically, face glowing. “If you ever need help with anything, please feel free to use me as a resource. I’ve got all kinds of contacts I could set you up with. Whatever you need,” he stressed.

“Thank you,” she shyly responded, cheeks darkening to match her dress.

“Anytime,” he assured, giving her arm a playful nudge.

They completed their loop around the square and continued window-shopping, ending up at a little café called La Gallete des Moulins for a snack because Adrien thought the fig tart that they saw through the window looked scrumptious.

“You haven’t had enough sweets for one day?” Ladybug teased, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Better be careful or you’re going to lose your girlish figure.”

Adrien waved her away as he handed the money over to the young woman manning the cash register. “I never get sweets, though. I’m running on a sweets deficit, so I have a lot of catching up to do while I’m not being strictly monitored.”

“You poor thing,” she sighed, pitying him in earnest as they headed out to the fenced-off patio area to sit. “That can’t be fun having people telling you what you can and can’t eat all the time. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

“Thanks. Though, it’s not so bad.” He smiled and shrugged it off as he set down the tray on one of the small green tables right alongside the fence and pulled out one of the wicker chairs for her with a bow. “Nino shares junk food, and Marinette, bless her, sneaks me pastries from time to time. That girl is a saint.”

“I’m glad someone is taking care of you. Thank you,” she chuckled as she took the seat.

He settled in across from her and started on his tart. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

She eyed the tart appraisingly and considered how much she had already eaten in front of him so far. She didn’t want to look like a pig, but…

“Is it good?” she inquired.

He made an evaluating noise. “Meh. It’s not bad. The crust is nice, and the custard is nearly perfect, but it just doesn’t compare with the raspberry custard mini tarts we had earlier,” he replied honestly. “I’m sort of spoiled on Tom and Sabine’s, and the delicacies that Marinette made for us earlier just blow this out of the water. It’s not bad, though,” he judged fairly. “The figs are delicious, for one.”

“May I try a fig?” she asked, reaching out preemptively, fingers hovering over a slice.

“Go for it,” he encouraged, motioning for her to help herself. “…Hey, so…do you mind if I ask you more questions about yourself?”

She laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “You haven’t run out of questions yet? You were pretty thorough earlier.”

“I don’t think I asked the right questions,” he confessed, watching, mesmerized, as she licked the custard off of the fig.

“What kinds of questions do you have for me?” she hummed, pretending to entertain the idea of answering.

“Do you like video games?” he inquired, keeping up an innocent front, despite his firm intention to delve deeper.

In addition to Ultimate Mecha Strike, Adrien had found out as Chat Noir that Marinette was into some pretty niche games. She hadn’t mentioned them to Adrien, so Ladybug shouldn’t have any reason to suspect the trap. While it was possible that people besides Marinette had played games like Pyre, Titanic: Adventure Out of Time, and The Missing: J.J. MacField and the Island of Memories, it was unlikely that Ladybug had coincidentally played all of the same niche video games as Marinette unless they were, in fact, the same person.

One way or another, Adrien was going to find out because if they were one and the same, if it were possible to be with the woman he’d fallen for twice, Adrien was more than willing to bend some rules and break some promises. He’d waited so long already, and if she really did love him in return, maybe she’d find some way to forgive him.

Ladybug humored him for almost an hour, answering question after question as they sat and talked and people-watched at the café.

Slowly but surely, Adrien became increasingly certain that he knew who the elusive girl behind the mask was. There was still a part of him that worried it was merely wishful thinking, but the more they talked, the more breadcrumbs she unknowingly dropped until he wanted to scream in jubilation because he had finally found her, and she had been right in front of him the entire time.

They continued their stroll around Montmartre, looping around until they came back to Sacré-Coeur. They leisurely made their way down the hill, arm-in-arm, chatting and enjoying the brisk autumn evening.

When they arrived at the Place Saint-Pierre, Adrien spotted the carrousel, and his eyes lit up. Slowly, he turned to look at Ladybug and casually inquired, “Is it uncool for adults to ride a carrousel, do you think?”

She tried not to laugh as she smiled indulgently. “Adrien, if you want to ride the carrousel, we can ride the carrousel.”

His eyebrows dipped into a slight frown. “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you do something embarrassing. I mean, I know carrousels are for little kids, so—”

“—Adrien,” she cut him off with a fond chuckle, pulling him gently yet firmly by the arm towards the merry-go-round. “It’s fine. There’s a carousel by my house that I ride with the kids I babysit all the time. I’m not embarrassed. It’s fun.”

“Oh,” he breathed, recalling the park next to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. “Okay. If you’re sure. I mean…”

She stopped and turned to look him full in the face, inquiring earnestly, “Adrien, do you want to ride the carrousel?”

He nodded. “I used to really love them when I was a kid. My mom and I would ride the one over by the Eiffel Tower sometimes when we snuck out to have adventures, so…yeah. I’d like to ride it.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, guiding him over to the merry-go-round. “You pick our horses. Whichever one you want.”

He pursed his lips and surveyed the ride with great concentration before deciding, “If it’s okay, I’d like the black one on the outer ring of the bottom level. Would you be okay with the white one next to it?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to go to the upper tier?” she asked, a little surprised. A double decker carrousel was a bit rare, even in Paris with its many carrousels, so she would have thought that Adrien would have taken advantage of the opportunity to ride on the upper deck.

He blushed as he averted his eyes. “I mean, the upper level would be cool, but all of those horses are single file, and I’d rather ride on the lower level and be next to you.”

“I can’t take it,” she confessed, catching him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, fearing he’d done something wrong. “I didn’t mean to. What can’t you take?”

She shook her head, face absolutely magenta. “No. No. I mean…you’re trying to kill me with how sweet and perfect you are,” she attempted to explain through her flustered state. “Like, everything that comes out of your mouth is like some line out of a romance novel, and you are just too cute and too sweet, and I’m going to overheat and die because I like you so much.”

His eyes went wide momentarily in shock at her bluntness, but then a wide smirk slowly spread across his lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping at her unintended forwardness. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, a giddy laugh rising in her throat. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me either,” he hummed, clearly pleased with himself and her and life in general.

“I’ve been trying to say something like that to you for seven years now,” she snorted.

“And I’ve been waiting just as long to hear it,” he assured, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“How are you so smooth?” she groaned through a broad grin of her own.

He shrugged and looped his arm through hers, leading her over to their mounts. “I consume an indecent amount of shoujo manga and romance novels,” he confessed. “It’s rubbed off on me over the years.”

“And here I thought it was natural talent,” she snickered.

“I’m sure there’s a certain amount of that as well,” he hummed happily, giving her a hand up before ascending himself.

The sun began to dip low towards the horizon, and Ladybug tugged Adrien inconspicuously into an alley so that they could take to the sky on her yoyo without anyone seeing her take off.

“I’ve got one last surprise for you,” she informed, carrying him back towards the heart of the city.

“Is that surprise that you’re kidnapping me and never making me go home ever again?” he inquired hopefully, knowing that the bliss he’d felt with her the past few hours was coming to an unavoidable end.

“I wish,” she snorted. “If I could, I would definitely keep you, but I don’t think even Ladybug could get away with kidnapping Adrien Agreste. Your father would have my neck.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” he sighed, letting his head come to rest on her shoulder. “All right. I guess all we can do is enjoy the time we have left.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” she chuckled. “We’re going to one of my favourite spots in all of Paris. Super exclusive with a view that can’t be beat,” she promised.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing that she was taking him to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. Ladybug and Chat Noir had often met there to hang out and chat, and many a sunset had been watched over the years. He’d come to think of it as one of “their spots”, so the fact that Ladybug was bringing Adrien there felt like a bit of a betrayal.

But then, on the other hand, he was the one who had betrayed Ladybug first by bringing Marinette there on several occasions. And if Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, she knew what Chat Noir had done.

Ultimately, he decided to be honored that Ladybug thought Adrien worthy of sharing such a special spot.

They touched down at the very top, and Ladybug gently deposited him back onto his own feet.

“Ta-da,” she chuckled, pushing a bang back out of the way as the evening breeze licked it from its place. “This is the best view I know of, so… You’re not too cold, are you?” she inquired, surveying his sweater and undershirt combo and wondering how insulating they would be against the higher winds at that altitude.

“I’m fine,” he rushed to assure. “…Unless you’re suavely trying to get me to cuddle with you. In that case, I’m freezing,” he amended with a flirty wink that made her crack up.

“Actually,” she drawled mischievously, going over to where a second wicker picnic basket had been stowed near the center of the tower. She checked inside and pulled out a thermos, two mugs, a Tom and Sabine’s takeaway box, and two blankets. “I thought it might be nippy, so I planned ahead.”

She spread one of the blankets for them to sit on and set down the thermos, mugs, and pastry box upon it, holding out the other blanket towards him. “Here you go. If you need it, I mean. I know it gets a little brisk up here in the evenings once the sun sets.”

He took the proffered blanket with a warm, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful, Nelle,” and sat, wrapping it around his shoulders to fight off the autumn chill.

She settled in beside him and set to work lifting the lid of the takeaway box to reveal the most perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies Adrien had ever seen before moving to unscrew the cap of the thermos, announcing, “I give you Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate—recipe known only to members of the Dupain-Cheng family.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, grinning cockily. “Then how did you get the recipe?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, voice pitching high in her panic. “I just ordered it from Marinette along with the cookies.”

“It was awfully nice of Marinette to cater our date,” he hummed appreciatively, leaning in to survey the chocolate chip cookies.

“I do a lot of business with Marinette,” Ladybug fibbed, pouring the hot chocolate from the thermos into the mugs. “My kwami Tikki loves her cookies, so Marinette has kind of ended up being Tikki’s preferred supplier.” She smiled sheepishly as she handed him a mug and took the other for herself.

“I am exceedingly excited to try out this super-secret hot chocolate and these Tikki-approved cookies,” he chuckled, bringing the mug up to his lips.

In truth, he had had Marinette’s cookies and Dupain-Cheng Special Hot Chocolate before when he’d spent time with Marinette over the years as Chat Noir, but Maribug didn’t need to know that yet.

He purred happily as the chocolate washed over his tongue, coating his mouth in the rich, luscious taste of the special blend of spices Marinette was so secretive about. “This is amazing,” he praised. “What do you think I’d have to do to get the recipe because this is to die for.”

Ladybug gave a snort, sipping smugly from her own mug. “Marry Marinette.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he snickered. “The hot chocolate recipe would only be the icing on the metaphorical cake, if you’ll excuse the baking pun.”

“Try the cookies,” she urged, turning her head so that he hopefully didn’t notice her rampant blush and the way she couldn’t hold in an effulgent grin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he assured, helping himself and then savoring the way the cookie almost melted on his tongue.

“…By the way,” he thought to ask a minute later, “how did this stuff get up here? There’s no way you could have dropped it off before our date. The hot chocolate wouldn’t still be hot.”

“I actually called in a favor from a friend,” she confessed. “The new Turtle hero, Michelangelo, picked up the basket from Marinette’s house and dropped it off here for me.”

Adrien blinked slowly as his brain tried to process what she was saying. “New…Turtle hero?”

She nodded. “Chat Noir has been pestering me about adding another full-time member, and I finally decided he was right, so we’re bringing Michelangelo on for a probationary trial period.”

Adrien had to keep a tight grip on his poker face to ensure that he didn’t react to this news because it sounded like Ladybug had brought Nino back onto the team like Chat Noir had asked but made him leave the Carapace identity behind so that no one would suspect that the “new” Turtle hero was really the same holder who had had his identity compromised six years prior.

“Oh, cool,” Adrien remarked in as neutral-to-positive a tone as he could manage. “I think that’ll be good. I’m glad that someone else will be out there watching your back.”

“I’m actually bringing him on to watch Chat Noir’s back because he already has mine…maybe a little too much,” she sighed, brow creasing in worry as she thought about her partner.

Adrien set down his mug and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it supportively. “Hey. It’s okay. I know sometimes that it doesn’t feel like it, but…it’s okay, Nelle.”

She smiled weakly, returning the hand squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooted in closer, unfolding the blanket she had given him and draping it over both of their shoulders. “Is this okay?” he inquired, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a tired sigh, letting go and resting her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect. …Thanks.”

“Any time,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “I know you’re tough, but you don’t always have to be around me. It’s okay not to be invincible and perfect. It’s okay to just be a twenty-year-old girl trying to make it all work.”

“Thanks,” she repeated softly, sinking into him.

They watched the sun gradually float towards the horizon for a while in contented silence as they snuggled and enjoyed their cookies and hot chocolate.

“…What are you humming?” Ladybug inquired curiously some time later.

Adrien gave a start and pulled back. “Oh. Sorry. I…I spend a lot of time alone, so I’ve developed the bad habit of talking and singing to myself. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it,” he explained sheepishly, cheeks going as red as her dress in embarrassment.

“Oh, no. Don’t be sorry,” she entreated with a kind smile. “I was just asking because it’s pretty and I wanted to know what song it was. Your humming is lovely, and lots of people do that. Chat Noir, for one, is always singing under his breath to himself, so it’s not uncommon or weird at all.”

He tried not to grimace as a part of him wished she would just see Chat Noir inside of Adrien already.

“Oh? Chat Noir does too?” he forced himself to chuckle.

She nodded completely unsuspectingly as she asked again, “What song were you humming?”

“Have you seen the movie Tangled?” he inquired even though he had shown it to Marinette himself when he’d learned that she’d never watched it before.

“Mmhm,” she affirmed as a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down at the blanket with a fond smile. “A good friend of mine is a bit of a Disney afficionado. He kind of flipped out and strapped me down and made me watch it when he found out I’d never seen it.”

He grimaced at her description. “Was this a positive experience or torture?” he had to wonder.

“Oh, no! It was fun!” she insisted, wide-eyed, flailing her hands and nearly upsetting the hot chocolate mugs and the cookies. “I had fun.”

“Oh, good,” he laughed in relief. “Otherwise, I’d have to say that maybe you shouldn’t be friends with this guy. He sounds kind of extreme.”

“No,” she hurried to correct his misconception. “Watching the movie was completely voluntary. He…He’s a good friend.” Her voice dipped low with feeling and softened as she added, “He’s very important to me.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, his own cheeks starting to glow. “That’s…good. I’m glad,” he replied genuinely.

There was a beat, and then he cleared his throat. “…Well, the song is I See the Light from Tangled, so…”

“Will you sing it for me?” she asked so earnestly he couldn’t refuse.

“You want me to serenade you, Nelle?” he chuckled, eyebrows dancing jocosely.

She nodded eagerly. “Please? I really love your voice.”

“Is that the only thing you love?” he teasingly fished, holding out hope.

She rolled her eyes, blushing as she gave him a playful shove and commanded, “Sing.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and obediently began the song, tenderly and vulnerably, “All those days watching from the windows…all those years outside looking in…”

He sang in English, so she struggled to understand some parts, but the lyrics didn’t really matter to her. She could feel the emotions in his voice as he sang of being isolated and lost and then suddenly finding where he was meant to be.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into him, losing herself in his song as he confessed, “And at last I see the light…and it’s warm and real and bright…now that I see you.”

He stopped singing then and smiled bashfully, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he whispered, “Ladybug?”

“Hm?” she blinked dreamily, still swimming in his piercing peridot eyes.

“I need to tell you something. You’re not going to understand,” he informed sadly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “And you’re not going to think that I’m serious because what I’m about to say is going to sound impossible, but please know that I’m telling the truth.”

“Adrien?” she replied uncertainly, brow beginning to crease in confusion. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he breathed with a tortured smile. “I love you more than anything, and being here with you is a dream come true.”

She gasped, stunned by his heartfelt confession, mind spinning as he began to lean in, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

The clear choice was to let him kiss her. The obvious course of action was to wrap her arms around him and kiss his face off like she’d dreamed of doing for more than half a decade now.

But, in that moment, no matter how romantic the set up, it didn’t feel right.

Alya had a point.

Ladybug was misleading Adrien by not telling him the whole truth, and, however much he liked Marinette, he was bound to be upset when he found out who was behind the mask because she wasn’t being honest with him, and how was that going to provide a foundation upon which to build a relationship?

She pulled back and looked away, hating herself for what she was doing to him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears. “I just don’t think it’s fair to you, not knowing who you’re kissing.”

He bit his lip, mentally debating how much she’d freak out if he told her he was ninety-nine percent certain that he knew exactly whom he’d been about to kiss.

“Knowing your name isn’t important,” he responded gently instead, resting his hand on top of hers. “What really matters is knowing who you are as a person. I know you, Ladybug, and I know what I want.”

She winced, averting her eyes and turning her head further.

He froze. “…Unless…Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” he rushed to apologize as a realization made him feel sick. “I didn’t even stop to think that you might not want to kiss me. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

“—No!” she interrupted, grabbing his hand and turning back to face him. “No, Adrien, I definitely want to kiss you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“Ladybug, no,” he tried to protest, but she shook her head and wouldn’t listen.

“No,” she repeated decidedly. “I’m the one who messed up by asking you out as Ladybug in the first place. None of this has been fair to you, and I’m really sorry, Adrien,” she sighed.

A twinge of guilt struck him as he was reminded of the very similar ways in which he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “Ladybug…that’s not…” he tried ineffectually.

She shook her head, her mind made up. “I’m sorry. I think maybe I should take you home now.”

“Please, no,” he pleaded weakly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed melancholically. “But we need to get you home before they notice you’re missing.”

He didn’t bother voicing the fact that, likely, no one had noticed that he’d been gone for hours and no one was likely to discover his absence now.

Instead, he reluctantly submitted, helping her clean up and then obediently slipping his arms around her so that she could carry him back to the lonely Agreste Mansion just a few blocks away.

He tried to concentrate on the way she held him, the warmth of her against the chill of the wind as it whipped against them, every point of contact between their bodies, the scent of her oatmeal body wash and strawberry shampoo melding with the faint, lingering scent of bakery.

#Ladrien #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Identity Reveal #Partial Identity Reveal #Fluff #Date #Mikau's Writings #Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.

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alolanrain · 5 years ago

Note

Raihan taking pictures with ash having fun with friends, raihan social media followers didn’t know who’s that person with raihan, many followers thinks that raihan best friends just like Leon and others just ship it with raihan and ash as a joke/fanfic

This honestly got away from me very quickly, so have this basically fic that does really keep to the ask.

———

They were out on some camp sight, Ash’s property he got through his grandpas will that he never touched until last summer when his mom reminded Ash about the property. it was just Ash, his closest friends, their significant others, and Raihan.

Over all it was good. He couldn’t remember a time when he went camping-camping. Like without constant training and devising a way to kick Leon’s ass which he never ended up doing but that’s besides the point. They even brought three awesome Malibu Boats between the semi large group. Most people were paired off into to their respective partnerships or friends pairing up for the night. Raihan was with Ash and they had a good system down.

Raihan is usually placed on the supper side of the two sleeping bags that were dipped together to creat one large one because then Ash wouldn’t accidentally open it up while they were sleeping and stumble off the air mattress and onto the cold floor. Raihan also cornered him to the side of the tent and the past two nights they’ve been essentially cuddling, which they didn’t mind since both were naturally warm and Unova nights can get pretty cold out in this dessert... forest?

Over all they started to slowly stick more around each other. Raihan taking a bunch of pictures and Ash happily joining him when ever he asked. It got to the point where Ash would either slide into Raihans lap or side without prompting when he saw the Rotom Phone flying around Raihans head. It honestly felt good holding Ash by his side and Raihan refused to look at May and Misty’s pointed eyebrow wiggles as they cuddled through the trip. It’s also gotten to the point where, at night by the fire, Ash would pad over with the s’mores stuff and happily sit his cute little butt down in Raihans lap.

Internally Raihan is freaking the fuck out slightly, wanting to either pull Ash closer and kiss the top of his head all over or kinda push him away and go to their tent because Raihan is definitely sure a boner is gonna pop any second, outwardly Raihan keeps his face in his phone and raises a hand to hold onto Ash’s hips as the shorter male kept wiggling about. Getting comfortable while also setting s’mores crackers, chocolates, and peanut butter cups on one of his legs Liz neutral look on his face forced on, especially when Ash did a hard grind against his hips as he wiggles about to get even more comfortable. Inside Raihan was dying, though that didn’t stop him from raising his phone a little and pointed the super HD lense at the smaller one in his lap.

“Hey Ash?” Raihan rumbled. Keeping his voice down because it looked like Brock was dozing off with Olivia happily tucked in his side and fast asleep as well.

“Whu?” Ash spluttered. Desperately trying to swallow the mouthful of a s’mores that he just made and turned to look at Raihan.

“Smile.” The gyn leader grinned. Trying to not sound dreamy as Ash gave Raihan one of his most stunning and happiest smiles Raihan had ever gotten out of him. “Thank you.” He reached out. Gently caressing Ash’s back and smiling a little when Ash lent back a tiny bit, arching his spine to press more into Raihans palm before returning to his s’more that Pikachu had tried to steal without its trainer noticing.

Raihan was angled enough that neither anyone sitting besides him on lounging chairs would be able to see his phone screens. Not like they would anyways because Zoey is trying to silently argue with Dawn that four s’mores is already enough and Gary was sleeping in Tracey’s side, one of the firsts to go down and even before the sun had set.

Raihan looked back at the photo he just took of the Champion in his lap. Ash looked absolutely stunning with the almost twisted almost side profile he gave Raihan. Brown eyes and white teeth lit up by the roaring bonfire behind him and Raihan could easily pick out where Marshmello stuck to his upper lip and chocolat at the sides of his mouth. Half of his freckles on his nose lit and looked like golden specks flicked on while the others were darker but could still be seen by the faint mini lap that was held on by a branch a little up ways and behind the two. Raihans signature hoodie was big and loose on Ash, gathering at Ash’s elbows and exposing his back and fluffy black hair that was a little greasy. Raihan didn’t hesitate posting that picture to almost every sight he was on. Insta, Facebook, Twitter, both private and public Snaps, you name it and it was on there. Captioned it all with;

“Can’t believe I’m out here with him and everyone. such a blessing to know Ash and the gang ❤️”

He did something he normally didn’t do unless he was at home and was one hundred percent certain that he wasn’t gonna be headed for the day and told his Rotom to go have some fun and charge up as well. The shiny little electric Pokémon zoomed off to where Ash’s Charizard and Raihans Flygon was. Hopefully the little bugger won’t make anyone mad. Setting down the now rotom-less phone Raihan leaned back more into the reclining camp chair. Being careful not to knock Ash back or off the chair entirely. Soon enough though some telekinesis snatched the box away and sent it back into the main trailer where they soley keep their utensils and food cold and dry, also because Gary had hurt his back a week prior before the planned trip so they had to be accommodating as much as they could because Gary refused to be left behind.

Ash glared at Zoey and her new Gothorita and the two stuck their tongues out at him before turning back to Dawn and squishing her under her quite complaints. He shrugged and looked back at Raihan. eyeing his chest and bitting his bottom lip like he wanted to ask a question, that sight sent more blood down south because Arceus dammit that was a sinful look and Raihan really wants to cover Ash’s face so he can either calm his dick down or not see Ash’s realization on what’s going on.

“Can I...?” Ash waved his hand and pointed to Raihans chest where one of his arms were crossed over. A hopefully look in his eyes and he leaned down while giving Raihan a look.

“Su-sure!” Raihan coughed into his fist. Thankfully his face was a little to far from the fire and skin to dark for anyone to notice his raging blush. Raising the arm over his chest Ash gladly sunk down. Moving and wiggling about, much time Raihans enjoyment and torture, until he tucked his head a little under Raihans head and had one of his arms reaching across and up to cling to the light jacket Raihan was wearing at the upper shoulder area.

“Comfy?” Raihan couldn’t help but chuckle. His own hands falling back down to curl Ash closer and shift him slightly so that he was hurting each other in anyway like this.

“Mhmm,” Ash sighed, deflating slightly and closing his eyes in bliss, “you’re warm.” Punctuating the last part by Turing his head up and nosing along Raihans lower neck before stilling and enjoying the heat he was getting from both the fire and Raihan.

Raihan really couldn’t move his head much because of how Ash was laying on him and he was thankful. No doubt by the prickly feeling in his spine everyone else, who was awake, was wiggling their eyes at him or giving Raihan a pointed glare. Choosing to take the moment he started running one of his large palms up and down Ash’s back slight. Tipping to the side and not his hip so that he didn’t rub Ash’s ass and and going as far down Ash’s thigh that his long arms could allow without jostling Ash to much.

Said trainer his his arms was practically purring as Ash was becoming putty in his arms. Arching and leaning his back a little into every touch before soft snoring could be heard and Ash didn’t move anymore. Sighing Raihan moved both arms over Ash again and tilted his head back, looking at the stars above and trying to find some constellations to pass the time before someone calls bed time and the rest follow afterwards.

———

Raihan didn’t post anymore pictures after that one surprisingly, it was only the third night there out of the week stay, though that doesn’t say he didn’t take a lot of pictures.

Most of them just happened to be of Ash or Ash with him or Ash with everyone pokemon. Especially of Ash in his swimsuits.

Raihan drove the biggest Malibu boat, not very keen to know what kind it is or power it had just that it could go fast and faster then the other two boats piloted by Gary and Brock. Everyone was happy that there was a public boat launch not to far from Ash’s property and that they’ve been out in the sun and taking dives into the cold water that had come from a nearby mountain.

Back to the phone, it was flying everywhere and being careful not to attract a lot of bird Pokémon, Rotom was currently near the back of the boat. Catching videos of Ash and Dawn surfing separately on the waves the boat made. He had to be careful and not go to fast if he didn’t want to automatically sink Ash and or Dawn. Ash was currently the one who was surfing. Dawn had quite two sessions ago and held onto the green rope that they use to get up and into the wave.

Zoey did her call, “flag up!”, and Raihan immediately slowed down to boat even more as he turned to the right. Letting the giant waves crash into the haul head on and grunted at the up and down motion as the boat bobbed.

“You good?” Raihan called. Motioning first Zoey to keep the bright orange flag up just in case Ash wanted to go again.

“Little sore,” Ash called from the lake water, grinning up at Raihan before squealing when Dawn all but hurled the green rope at his face when he came into launching distance, “I’m hungry though.”

“Yeah,” Zoey piped up, “Lunch sounds good.”

“I agree,” Dawn yawned into her hands, “and I actually want to get some tanning done today.”

“Sounds good!” Raihan directed his lazy smile at the three, the only ones who wanted to do some water sports as the others just wanted to swim and play with water squirter‘s and chillax, “I’ll call Brock and see how far we got away from the other boats.”

He quickly turned back to the control panel at the steering wheel. Not keen on catching a glimpse of a happy and wet Ash out in the bright sun. That would K’O his ass right then and there and nobody needs that since Raihan is the only one on the boat with a legal driving license.

“This is Big Dragon calling to Hot Chef and Country Gay, where’s your guys’s location? Over.” Raihan had to keep himself from chuckling. Both Gary and Ash were insistent to use fake names over the clip on radio and nobody knows why. Raihan also didn’t have to wait long.

“This is Hot Chef, Country Gay is currently in the water and we’re by the Deschutes side of the lake. Over.” Bricks voice was a bit staticky but it was all good.

Raihan also didn’t bother answering. Just telling everyone to hold on as he slowly ramped up the speed until they were shooting across the water back near to where the boat launch is.

Rotom had fluttered near a holder that the boat had for phones before the take off and decided to be a little shit and show him all the photos it took. Especially all the ones of Ash’s. It only took one look and a sharp under the breath curse to note that Rotom tried especially hard to get some absolutely stellar pictures of Ash. If he was honest with himself and Ash even had a social media account, the smaller trainer would have girls and guys just begging on their knees to take him out on dates.

That irked Raihan a bit much then he was expecting. Hot searing jealous flashed in his chest until a smaller hand came out of no where and gently settled, as much as it could with the wind that was buffing everyone, on his bicep.

“You good?” Ash called over the wind.

The jealous settled down. Content to know that all the photo’s Raihan room were his and that no one else had the exact same pictures as the one in his phone, except for the one he had already posted before. “Yeah.” Raihan answered. Not wanting to bother anyone with his own emotions at the moment.

Ash nodded from the corner of Raihans eye and went to sit back down. A hard wave hit them and Raihan cursed a bit more loudly and quickly apologized before continuing off.

At least he has those pictures.

———

Which he uploaded when they got to the airport after their stay. Olivia and Dawn were particularly happy about the air conditioning and so was Tracey who had to carry most of his and Gary’s luggage because Gary’s back still hurt a little.

Ash and Raihan were almost always together as they waited for their flights. Raihan was going back to Kanto with Ash, Tracey, Gary, and Brock while the rest were saying good byes to each other.

Raihan, which hes finding a common reoccurrence this week, ignored most of his other media to focus on posting a few more pictures on his accounts. Slightly arguing with himself not to post to many pictures of just Ash and also sprinkle in some other candid shots of a few other friends and a group picture they took at the entry way into the park that they had to drive through to get to the property. Though most of his pictures still ended up being dominated by Ash.

His favorite was the one one, that he didn’t take but Zoey did by snatching his phone out of the air as quick as she could before Raihan noticed, of him and Ash. Shoulder to thigh as much as they could with their feet on the backboard and letting water wash over the hot tips of their feet. Zoey at the time was on another boat during lunch, helping Misty take out the drinks from a cooler in Gary’s boat, and had a perfect clear view of just Raihan and Ash in Raihans boat of the two. Raihans head was ducked down more towards Ash, his original hat was long gone in favor of one of those straw sun hats with some cool orange colored fabric on the bottom to keep more of the sun from his eyes from shining through the little holes of the weave. Ash had a more sturdy floppy sun hat, pushing the brim up to he could smile at Raihan. Cheeks rosie and brown eyes soft.

It competed with the fire and s’mores picture Raihan had taken the night before that day happened. Putting his phone down Raihan focused back on Ash and Gary who were joking easily together about buying each other some touristic Unovian hats just to give to Ash’s Mom and Gary’s Grandpa. An easy smile glittered over Raihans lips as he came over and sling an arm behind Ash as they both asked him what hats should they get.

———

Raihan didn’t look at his phone, after posting yet another picture of the gang before they had all split up, until after he and the other three had touched down in Kanto.

Gary kept giving Tracey jaw kisses in apology for not being a big help this trip around. Tracey didn’t object to much as he was enjoying the extra treatment that he was getting from his Fiancé.

Raihan was lazily pulling Ash along. Pikachu decided long ago that Raihans shoulder was better then his trainers and had tucked his head against his jaw. He didn’t mind but it did make it a little hard to keep track of Ash who stumbled and grumbled behind Raihan, clinging to his large hand, until they got to the front where Daisy and Professor Oak were waiting. Two separate cars because Ash had warned ahead that Raihan is a tall bastard and is gone need a full back seat to himself.

He was to tired to fully freak out over meeting two very high end Professors, he just wanted to get to Ash’s place and take a three day nap. Raihan gently pushed off Ash and nudged him over to the front of the car where Daisy caught him in his stumble and helped him sit down in the front passenger seat. Raihan placed their luggage in the back of the trunk and cursed under his breath as he awkwardly climbed into the semi small car and tried to situate himself the best that he could with his lanky ass body. Raihan waved away Daisy when she made a wounded noise as she looked how scrunched Raihan was as he took up the whole back seat with his legs and his shoulders were still slouched down with his head to avoide hitting the roof of the car.

It was an hour drive home. An hour where Raihan couldn’t look anywhere without hitting his head but directly at Ash. Who, for the love of Arceus, woke up from his slumber to look back at Raihan with the most sappiest looks Raihan as ever received in his life and shifted so he could reach out a hand to Raihan. Wiggling his fingers until Raihan’s slow moving brain caught up and he reached out his own hand to grasp Ash’s. Who then promptly fell asleep seconds after. Their hands still connected.

Daisy made a snorting laughing sound. Raihan could barely see her goofy smiling reaction through the review mirror as she eyed him and Ash. “You like him.” She quietly sang. Eyes moving back to road again after taking one last look at Ash.

“Uh. Wrong,” Raihan slurred, head not really catching up to what his mouth was saying, “I love him.”

“Even better.” Daisy replied.

“Damn right.” He sniffed before shifting his hand that was holding Ash’s a little.

———

Next thing Raihan knew he was waking up in Ash’s small childhood bed. Legs cramping horrible and back aching from the way it was arching and how Ash’s elbow is digging into his stomach. His Rotom Phone was right above his face, bright light shining down in his eyes, and displaying over fifty different text messages and calls and stuff from his social media apps.

Raihan blindingly reaches up and snatched his phone out of the air with an angry half growl. Lips curling in a sneer when he noticed that it was only five in the morning. Lazily looking through his messages Raihan only garnered that his fan base was blowing up about his pictures that he posted and that it’s causing the league to freak out as well for some reason.

For all Raihan cared that was the normal with his fan base, even his more normal chillaxed fans, so he didn’t even see a reason why anyone would be calling him this early in the morning.

“Mute all calls and messages unless it’s a complete dire emergency.” Raihan mumbled loud enough for his Rotom to hear before letting go of the phone and trying to gently shift about without waking Ash up. It was an impossible mission to find a better sleeping position with how small the bed was compared to him so Raihan just let it go and slung an arm over Ash curled up body. Feeling the tinnier trainer shift more into Raihan’s chest at the motion.

Eyes falling shut with a heavy sigh. Raihan went back to sleep. Completely and blissfully unaware of the storm that was raging over Galars social media for the last week.

#wolfy writes #ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #fangshipping #dawn #zoey #gary oak #dawn/zoey #gary/tracey #misty #brock #daisy oak #professor oak #idk this got away from me #and was sitting in my drafts for at least a month i think

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lgcahri · 4 years ago

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the promise.

dated summer 2011.

@lgcnam

the circus was bustling with excited faces of both, children and adults, with the usual upbeat mood before the show was going to start. it was a special day to ahri, however, not the normal circus day she was used to since she could think; for the very first time she was allowed to be part of the grand performance the hard-working staff practiced over and over in order to convey each emotion to the crowd, each stunt perfectly without any mistakes. the pretty pink gymnastic’s dress she was wearing along with the stunning sparkly makeup made the entire moment real, more palpable, because it felt like a dream still.

she had thirty minutes left before she’d be called in to perform a pretty short act and ahri decided to linger around the backstage part, perhaps a bit too far away from where the trailers were parked. curiosity always got the best of her; when she spotted a boy around her age flaunting around, away from the crowd, it was an automatic movement of her body to carry her over to him. he didn’t appear to have gotten lost, more like the type of person who actively tried to avoid entering the tent.

“so, you ran away from your family?” she asked, bold, but charming in the way her head tilted and eyes formed pretty crescent moons. there were no real friendships in her life, not a lot of experience she’d gotten to gather in terms of what was alright to do and what wasn’t when it came to first meetings. fingers fixed one of the space buns her brown hair was sporting and she allowed a wide grin to take over petal-colored lips. “my name is ahri.”

#( threads. )#lgcnam #/ i hope this is alright ;;

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satoshi-mochida · 4 years ago

Link

Nintendo will release the second free summer update for Animal Crossing: New Horizons on July 30, which adds fireworks shows, dreaming, and an island backup service.

The following features will be available starting July 30:

Fireworks Shows – Enjoy atmospheric fireworks lighting up the sky above your island every Sunday in August at 7 p.m. Get in the spirit by redeeming Bells for raffle tickets in the plaza to get various festive items that you can use. Put your personal spin on the fireworks display by using your own custom design pattern to see it shot in the air as a firework in the sky!

Dreaming – You can now choose to take a nap in any bed placed in your home. (Players will need to upgrade their tent to a home in order to access the dreaming feature.) While dozing off, you may find yourself in a strange realm where you’ll be greeted by Luna. Luna offers visits to other islands as a dream, and with her help, you can share your island as a dream with others too. She will grant those who share their island a “Dream Address” which players can exchange and use to visit each other’s island in a dream. In dreams, nothing is permanent because nothing you do is saved, so explore to your heart’s content.

Island Backup & Restoration Service – Nintendo Switch Online members can enable the new island backup service, which automatically uploads island and user save data to the internet at certain times. If your Nintendo Switch system is lost or damaged, you may be able to recover your island paradise as long as you’ve enabled island backup. In the event of loss or damage, contact Nintendo Consumer Support about restoring the island and user save data on your new or repaired Nintendo Switch system. After your island data and individual player data is restored, you can get back to building your island community!**** Additional details can be found on the Nintendo Consumer Support page when the update goes live. The island backup feature is separate from the Save Data Cloud functionality offered for select Nintendo Switch games through Nintendo Switch Online. A function specific to Animal Crossing: New Horizons to move users and save data to another system is planned for later this year. Details will be announced in the future.

The next free update will be available this fall.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons is available now for Switch.

Watch a new trailer below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

youtube

#Animal Crossing: New Horizons #Animal Crossing #AC: NH #Nintendo #Nintendo Switch #Gematsu

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sapphire-weapon · 5 years ago

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Hello, friends. Ever since Akechi’s trailer dropped for P5R, I’ve been seeing a lot of tentative hand-wringing in the fandom over the idea that Akechi’s return will all be part of the dream/illusion theory and that he’ll still die and stay dead in the real world. I’m going to explain today why that’s bullshit that you don’t actually have to worry about and why understanding game design is important before you start making analysis posts.

Everything that we’ve seen so far to support the dream/illusion theory has been due to a case of asset reuse or a minor aesthetic change/model swap. Let me explain what I mean by those terms:

Asset reuse: This is a tactic that game developers use in order to take things they’ve already built into the game’s engine and literally reuse them somewhere else. You see this a lot in sequels. New areas will have a lot of remnants of other places that existed in the first game -- wall/floor textures, fixtures, furniture, etc. etc. The Yakuza series (also a Sega property) lives and dies by asset reuse; the entire map/city of Kamurocho is reused over and over and over and over again in every single game in order to save money. The key to good asset reuse is to make it feel new every single time, despite it being literally the same models and textures.

Minor aesthetic changes: Some new characters in sequels/DLC are actually crafted from the character models that already exist in the game. The way this is done is by slightly tweaking things that are easily changed in a character model (hair color, eye color, hair style, some minor basic structure of their face, and clothing). Doing this saves developers a lot of the time and money that it would take to create a whole new character model, and when done cleverly enough, most players would never notice.

Model swapping: Basic character animations are developed on basic character skeletons before the actual character model itself is slapped on it. This is why you see fan mods made all the time of swapping out X character for Y character in a game. This is also why, in large multiplayer games, you can see game studios push out more and more characters to choose from at a fairly rapid rate over time through DLC/patches. This is an easy way to expand your character roster without having to actually build new animations into the engine.

So, now that we understand that, let me go back and restate my point: Everything that we’ve seen so far to support the dream/illusion theory in Persona 5 Royal has been due to a case of asset reuse or a minor aesthetic change/model swap. A living Wakaba? Asset reuse of her pre-existing model. A kind Okumura? Asset reuse. Human Morgana? Built from Joker’s model and swapped onto his basic animation skeleton.

You know what’s not a case of model swapping or asset reuse? Akechi’s new, manual Confidant. Restructuring his Confidant in a way that forces the player to level him up as opposed to having it level up automatically seems like a tiny thing, but it’s actually a massive restructuring of the gameplay in a way that takes way more time, money, and development power than just swapping out a character model or slapping some new dialogue in. We’re not just getting new scenes with Akechi -- we’re getting a whole branching gameplay section with him that has to account for player choices as an affection meter is built up, which includes the developers having to take the time to balance the feeling of player agency.

On top of that, giving us Black Mask Akechi in combat means that he’s going to have to have more, new gameplay animations beyond what his boss fight in vanilla actually showcased -- he’s going to need to have a new, broadened variety of spells at his disposal in order for him to be viable in combat, and they’re going to have to animate a new All-Out-Attack for him.

These things take a lot of time and money in order to develop, and the notion that Sega/Atlus would pour all of that time, money, and effort into integrating Akechi into the game in this way just so that they could go “it was all a dream, ha ha!” and make it all meaningless and take him away from the game and the gameplay again is so absurd as to actually be baffling.

So, when Akechi says to Joker, “If you choose to live here with your friends in this reality...” he isn’t implying that he, himself exists in a reality separate from Joker and his friends, nor does it imply that Akechi will somehow cease to exist if Joker breaks the illusion. All this conversation is is confirmation that Akechi knows that the illusion world is a thing, and he doesn’t want Joker to decide to be complacent and stay in a fake world where everything is sunshine and rainbows. Akechi wants to go back to reality, and he wants Joker to wake up and join him, because of course Akechi would think that living in a world of illusions is meaningless.

But the problem is that fans seem to think that P5 Vanilla is reality, and anything new in Royal is not -- and that doesn’t have to (or even seem to) be the case. Going back to reality doesn’t mean that Akechi is still fated to die or that he’ll drop dead on arrival. Akechi is very, very, very likely to be alive in reality for real and will remain that way, because there is no actual way to justify the amount of time and money and development effort being put into his character otherwise.

Sega/Atlus is saving and redeeming Akechi for real, in reality. And Akechi wants you to join him there.

And if you’re a huge anti who’s really bootyblased by the picture I just painted for this fandom, I would like to point you to another post I made about redemption arcs and how no one is obligated to forgive a redeemed villain so we hear you but like shut up and let people enjoy things.

Was this helpful? Buy me a coffee!

#persona 5 #goro akechi

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myclownjunction · 5 years ago

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Request: Bob Gray x S/O that is Japanese performer at the circus

*Bob Gray was a man hard to be impressed by anything, but when he saw you he was stunned on a place like someone whispered into his ear.’ Look up!’

*You were petite but yet strong your paleness made you like an angel when you were performing under the lights of the circus.

*He never saw any other dance so beautiful, gracious and deadly at the same time. His eyes were burning and they were looking at you alone

*You wore a makeup similar to his, which made him smile proudly and his heart was thumping like a bird in a cage right now

*Bob Gray was no fool and he was definitely an educated man, even if he played the fool, the clown. He was not dumb, a dumb person cannot hold a whole circus under his wing.

*He has heard about performances on a special visit to Japan, it was called “Kabuki theatre”. Then he was impressed but he was mesmerized by you and no one else like the dance was for him and him alone!

*He tries to keep a hand over his mouth because boy he’s so drooling, watching your movements makes him excited (eh he’s still a man, tho)

*When you finish your performance, only then he breaths out, overwhelmed he looks at your beautiful features. He smiles for real, for the first time in his years

*When you go back at your wagon, which is kept clean and neat. You spot flowers, Lillies: red and white, in them, a note is stuck you pick it up and read:

“The moon would be ashamed of standing next to you as you’re even more breath-taking than these flowers could be. Your eyes are like the night sky and yet I want to see the stars in them. Your smile is heartwarming like the morning sun that just rises. Your dance is so gracious that my breath you took away.”

Secret Admirer

*You sit there, a soft smile spreads over your features, no one dared to write you poems. And yet, you have one secret admirer. You wonder who could leave it as you smell the flowers softly tracing the petals

*You keep the poem next to your heart as you don’t notice that a shadow passes behind your window unnoticed by you

*Bob Gray was out of breath on the other side of the campus, he smiled to himself as he leaned to the trailer he was resting in.

*You were perfect to him, and he, he could have any woman he wished for, but he knew you were not like them you are a gem. And he wants you, all of you, but he knows you might not like the freak that he is. After all, everyone saw a clown in him, not a normal living person with feels.

*You, on the other hand, try to play sherlock holmes, who could leave yo the flowers you were so confused. This was so strange no one liked a strong woman that showed no fear and power.

*Then you hear cheer and laughter coming from the main circus tent, you go inside to see everyone laughing and crying from it which automatically made you smile a bit not until you see why. You see the star of the circus Pennywise the dancing clown himself, his dance and performance made you laugh for the first time in your life.

*Pennywise (aka Bob Gray) was so into his performance that when he saw you he prayed not to forget what he was doing. Gods your smile, scratch it not only your smile, your laughter, your eyes he was so in love now.

*He was so love-struck that he started acting silly making everyone laugh but he didn’t care he was fixated on you. You, on the other hand, smiled at him and waved softly.

*After the performance, someone knocked on his door. ‘Who could be at this time of the night?’ he thought. Hollering “Yes, come in ...it’s open” you took a breath and walk in, he was with his back turned to you

*You made a coughing noise to make him turn around, his heart hoo boy thunder inside of his chest. You smiled softly as you walked closer to him “Your performance was amazing I have never laughed like that before! Thank you Mr.Pennywise.” you smiled at him “Bob!” you tilted your head questiongly “I’m so-?” he didn’t let you finish rising to his full height “My name is Robert...Bob Gray” he smiled softly at you.

*You smiled and said “My name is Y/N, nice to meet you too my secret admirer” that caught him so off guard that he almost shrank back, but before he did you let your hands slide to his shoulders making him tremble.

* “I was surprised that no one saw the beauty in you, but the day I had my performance I saw your smile, the real you Bob Gray” you whispered closing the distance and kissing him.

*He was dreaming right, no he wasn’t he felt you so petite compared to him, and yet so strong and gracious. Perfection, he was kissing you deep and hard with passion just like your dance. When you parted to take a breath, he looked at your eyes and you looked into his ocean ones smiling

As the wind carried the words that held you together as one, wholesome just two lovers that share the same passion

And the wind carried the words that fell from your both mouths in unison

“I love you!”

For @diaamondis I hope you enjoy it. As for me I’m doing my best and having a good day. So I hope M’Lady you’ll have a great day today too. Your request was a pleasure to write.

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sparklyjojos · 5 years ago

Text

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [4/13]

In which our detectives meet the great magician, talk about the theory of illusion a lot, and Kirigirisu is charmed.

PART 3

The first person narrator of the framing device shows up for a brief page to tell us about a memory predating the Case a few years. That was when he first visited the Saimon family—and when he became aware of her existence for the first time.

Crouching to watch the beautiful carps in the canal by the family’s residence, he lifted his sight and noticed first a visibly pregnant belly, then its owner: a woman in a black tomesode looking back at him, her gentle sight full of love befitting a mother.

He would later learn that her name was Tsukumo Yumeji.

Though the reader has already witnessed the splendid magical show of November 23rd, let us go back in time a day to the evening of 22nd, for that is when Ajiro Souji and Kirigirisu Tarou arrive in Yamaguchi. The circus schedules two performances a day, one in the afternoon and one in the evening, so free time after the evening performance seems like the perfect time to speak with Soga Tensui.

The detectives head towards the giant white tent against the stream of people who have just finished watching the show. Once they explain they’re here on Tensui's request, a young staff member leads them through the circus grounds—next to the souvenir booths, the toilets, and so forth—towards the restricted area by the back wall of the tent, where he holds the entrance open for them and beckons them to go through.

The staff area is a square of open space surrounded by a few smaller tents, with a bunch of trailer houses in the middle making the place feel cramped. People dressed in staff jackets are hanging all around. A couple of men still have their clown outfits on.

Kirigirisu is enthralled by this unusual sight; he has never seen something like this before and tries to take in everything at once. Ajiro, who has been walking in front of him, turns around to say something… but instead goes still, staring at something right behind Kirigirisu’s back. It’s probably just that young staff member who has been following them, but Ajiro’s strange expression makes Kirigirisu turn around to look as well.

Standing there is not the young staff member, but a tall man about fifty years of age, his magnificent stature and dignity making him seem an emperor, his jet-black hair elegantly swept back, his intense features adorned with a thin Kaiser moustache. He regards the detectives in complete silence, no visible emotions on his face, dark eyes intense, and the staff jacket he’s wearing does little to counteract the sheer power of his presence. He must have intentionally crept up upon them, patiently waiting for them to notice.

“You… you must be Soga Tensui?” Kirigirisu finally manages to say.

Instead of answering, the man removes his right glove, sticks his hand out for Kirigirisu to shake, then quickly puts the glove back on. Though the man’s hand looked empty, Kirigirisu realizes that a small piece of paper was somehow left in his own hand. It’s about the size of a business card, but says only:

Nice to meet you, I’m Soga Tensui.

And on the other side:

Nice to meet you, Kirigirisu Tarou.

“You already know my name…?” Kirigirisu is confused. Did Ajiro tell the man about him beforehand? He glances at Ajiro, but is met with an impenetrable stone face, so he shrugs off the surprise and presents his own business card. “It is indeed nice to meet you. I am a member of Nihon Tantei Club, Kirigirisu Tarou. I’m looking forward to our cooperation…”

Tensui accepts the business card, then holds it on top of his open left palm, covers it with his right, uncovers it, and… the business card has magically changed into a copy of Tensui’s own card. He shows both sides to stunned Kirigirisu. Nice to meet you, Kirigirisu Tarou. Nice to meet you, I’m Soga Tensui. Then Tensui uses his free right hand to point intently between his jacket’s right pocket and Kirigirisu.

“Are you asking me to look inside your pocket?” Kirigirisu once more glances at still completely serious Ajiro, who just nods, so he follows the instructions. “...I looked, but there doesn’t appear to be anything inside.”

Tensui nods, puts his right hand inside the pocket that has just been confirmed to be empty… and pulls out Kirigiru’s business card out of it.

“But—how?!” Kirigirisu can’t help but shout.

“Are you sure you checked thoroughly?” Ajiro sounds like he’s poking fun at him.

“I’m sure I did.” Kirigirisu is already feeling lost, but surprises don’t end there.

Tensui puts Kirigirisu’s card back in his right pocket, then tears his own card in half. The piece with Nice to meet you is given to Kirigirisu, then Tensui holds up the one with I’m Soga Tensui in his right hand so they can see it clearly. His left hand pulls out a lighter from his left pocket, lights the card on fire, and puts the lighter back. Once the fire subsides, an orange silk handkerchief shows up out of nowhere in its place. Tensui gestures at Kirigirisu to take and inspect it.

“It’s normal silk.” Kirigirisu tries to pass it to Ajiro, but he just shakes his head, I’m good.

Tensui takes the handkerchief back with his right hand, then makes a fist with his left and stuffs the handkerchief inside through a tiny opening between his fingers, the orange color peeking out. He moves his fingers like he’s curling the material inside into a ball, finally opens his fist… and instead of a handkerchief there is an actual orange ball there. He lets it bounce a few times on his palm, throws it high in the air—dumbfounded Kirigirisu following it with his sight—then catches it with both hands… but it has now turned into a mandarin orange.

From a burning business card to a silk handkerchief, to a ball, to an orange. Kirigirisu is already shocked out of his mind, but the show still doesn’t seem to be over, for Tensui gives him the orange and mimes peeling off the skin. Kirigirisu has no choice but to entrust his Nice to meet you scrap to Ajiro, then start to peel the orange… inside of which he finds a tightly rolled piece of paper.

The piece of paper is one half of a business card, saying I’m Soga Tensui on one side and Kirigirisu Tarou on the other, its torn edge a perfect fit to the Nice to meet you part Ajiro has been holding onto.

Kirigirisu has been involved in his fair share of strange and complicated cases over the years, but nothing has ever shaken him as much as the last few minutes.

A small applause arises next to him; Ajiro is clapping.

“I see you've improved further, Gensui,” he says.

Gensui? Kirigirisu looks closer at the torn card and notices that indeed it says I’m Soga Gensui, as if the printed words have magically transformed.

Tensui (Gensui?) finally loses his unemotional facade and gives them a genuine, gentle smile, a great contrast to his previously stern features.

“Forgive me for this little surprise,” he says in a fittingly deep, friendly voice. “Let me say it once more: my name is Soga Gensui, and it is nice to meet you, Kirigirisu Tarou.”

Kirigirisu is still in shock, but Gensui’s sudden change from an impenetrable wall to an affable fellow is accompanied by such relief that it makes him automatically crack a smile of his own.

“Likewise. So you aren’t Soga Tensui, but Soga Gensui?”

“Well, I am also Soga Tensui. As long as I don’t speak, that is.” Seeing Kirigirisu’s confusion, he adds, “You’ll understand once you meet my older brother. He is Soga Tensui, see.”

“Let’s leave explanations for later, Gensui,” Ajiro interrupts.

“As you wish, Souji.”

Looks like these two are good friends despite the age difference. For some strange reason, the thought evokes feelings of jealousy and loneliness in Kirigirisu; maybe it’s because as a man with no past, he finds Ajiro about the only person in his life he can truly be close with, other than his wife Kano.

Unfortunately, Gensui can’t really talk with them right now; tomorrow is the concluding day of the current show repertoire, and many preparations are still in order. What’s more, Gensui wants the two detectives to watch tomorrow's show first before they discuss the case in details. (While he is smiling a lot, whenever he mentions the case his face goes back to utterly serious.) The plan is that tomorrow evening after the show they will catch a ride with the Saimons to go back to their hometown, Tsuwano. That same night they will attend the wake of Saimon Yuuta, the third possible victim who was found dead just a couple days ago.

Since Gensui has to go help everybody prepare, Kirigirisu gets more information from Ajiro as they’re walking to the inn where they intend to spend the night.

The man they’ve just met is Saimon Suigetsu (48), whose stage name is Soga Gensui. He’s the younger brother and body double of Saimon Ryuusui (50), who’s known as Soga Tensui. It’s easy to get lost in all these similar names, especially considering that all of them have sui (“water”) in them somewhere.

[To explain a bit more about their names: Ryuusui is written 流水, just like the JDC author’s pen name, and means “flowing water”, “stream”. His stage name Tensui (天水) literally means “rainwater”, with the individual kanji standing for “sky” and “water”, perhaps referring to his Sky Walk and Sea Walk.

Suigetsu (水月) is a term meaning the Moon’s reflection in water, and the first kanji of Gensui (幻水) means a “phantom” or an “illusion”—quite fitting for a double.]

According to Ajiro, Gensui wanted to see for himself what kind of person Kirigirisu was before making his identity known. Apparently Kirigirisu made a positive first impression, so Gensui sent a sneaky signal to Ajiro, who only then could start referring to the man as “Gensui”.

While the two brothers are not twins, for show purposes they made themselves look as similar as possible. A part of this was introducing easily noticeable and memorable things to their looks: the tailcoat, the hairstyle, the moustache. Any good detective knows that people tend to remember characteristic details like that and overlook more subtle differences.

(As they are walking, Kirigirisu gets a strange feeling of deja vu. Perhaps he visited Yamaguchi before, just can't remember it.)

Soon, Ajiro and Kirigirisu settle down in a room at a traditional inn, the kind where you sit in a tatami room on legless chairs on opposite sides of a low table, eating local delicacies and having an inn employee ready to assist you whenever you clap your hands. It’s quite a relaxing time, in part because they got some alcohol inside them already and the conversation is flowing well. Maybe they’re getting a bit too relaxed on a job trip, but hey, they have time to spare, and are already close enough to consider the other something of a family member.

The conversation inevitably drifts back to the magician brothers.

“Just like Gensui himself said, he serves as his brother Tensui’s double,” Ajiro says. “Because of that, he must act like Soga Tensui in front of outsiders, at least until they prove themselves trustworthy. You can’t reveal this secret to anyone, do you understand? Not even your wife. I didn’t tell mine either.”

Kirigirisu knows that Ajiro is married to a kind woman called Mizuki and that they have a little boy called Souya. Apparently Mizuki was born in Shimane prefecture, just like the Saimons, and just like the two magician brothers she has the kanji for “water” (mizu) in her name… but surely that’s just a coincidence.

“Understood. I won’t tell anyone, not even Kano.”

“Looks like Gensui can judge people well.” Ajiro smiles a little.

“By the way, boss, this may be a baseless doubt on my part, but… have you ever actually seen both Tensui and Gensui at the same time?”

“You’ve barely just met one of them, and you’re already doubting the other’s existence?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Don’t worry. If anything, doubting is what makes a detective. However, I can assure you that Tensui and Gensui are two different people. I’ve met both at the same time, even.”

“Are they really so similar that no one ever notices? Not even their close ones?”

“The Saimons know, of course. The show is mostly ran by their family, but they employ some additional staff that doesn’t know the secret.”

“It’s beyond my understanding how two people could manage something like that. To always pretend to be the same person in front of their staff...”

“Then you still don’t understand what kind of people Tensui and Gensui are. They are magicians. Pretending that they are one and the same person is a part of the act.”

Kirigirisu shares his theory on how Gensui managed to sneak behind them earlier. He couldn’t just mix in with the crowd, since always perceptive Ajiro would spot him, so he probably hid himself in one of the nearby toilets, waited until they passed by, came out and quickly switched places with the young staff member. The switch had to happen just as Ajiro and Kirigirisu were getting through the entrance to the restricted area. However, it still seems strange how much Gensui had to rely on sheer luck; if they randomly looked back and witnessed the switch in progress, wouldn’t that break the illusion?

“Do you think a famous magician wouldn’t have already anticipated the possibility?” Ajiro answers with a question. “What may look to you like a lucky coincidence was actually a carefully calculated inevitability. Something like us suddenly turning around simply would not happen.”

Kirigirisu recalls that moment again and realizes just what Ajiro means. At the time, they had just entered a restricted area filled with smaller tents, trailer houses, staff walking all around, some people still in costume. These sights were something not many people were used to and would almost certainly take a minute to stare at. In fact, did Ajiro not turn around first, maybe Kirigirisu would never notice Gensui, too focused on the scenery in front of him.

“The possibility that we wouldn’t turn around was indeed high,” Kirigirisu admits, “but I wouldn’t say you can make an outcome of a situation like this completely inevitable.”

“You can if you use misdirection,” Ajiro says. “In magician vocabulary, it means pulling the audience’s attention away from something. Leading them in a wrong direction, hence: misdirection.” Seeing that Kirigirisu still doubts him, he adds, “If you think that misdirection can't make an illusion inevitably work, then… how about this?”

Ajiro rolls up his sleeves, holds his lit cigarette between two fingers of his right hand and stretches his arm towards the ashtray. Kirigirisu has no idea what’s going on, but something clearly is, so he looks at the cigarette in anticipation. Ajiro stretches his left hand forward as well, and suddenly—flings the lit cigarette towards it, left hand immediately closing in a fist. Thin wisps of smoke arise from between his fingers. The heat must be unbearable, but Ajiro seems unfazed. He points to the fist using his right hand, look closely, then slowly opens the fist… revealing absolutely nothing inside. He shows that both the front and back of his left hand look normal, no cigarette anywhere. Then, as if guessing Kirigirisu’s immediate thought, shows his right hand as well. Empty.

It’s not a big illusion, but Kirigirisu’s entire world still turns upside down. Despite knowing Ajiro for a few years, he’s never ever suspected that the man could do magic. Maybe every single person on the planet can, and he just forgot about it like about everything else, who knows at this point.

But even as he remains speechless, Kirigirisu’s brain is already working hard, his detective instinct yearning to logically explain what seems unsolvable.

The cigarette had to still be there, and still be lit, to give off smoke. Lack of a burn wound meant Ajiro couldn’t extinguish it in his hand. Therefore, it was probably still lit at the current moment, and couldn’t be hidden away easily without giving off smoke. But hidden where? Ajiro’s sleeves are rolled up. What is the trick?

Before he can figure it out, Ajiro once again shows him that both his hands are empty.

“Look closely,” he says. “I’m not holding anything, right? So if I now curl my left hand into a fist...” He does so. ”...there should be nothing inside, shouldn’t it? Now please hold it tight between your hands.”

Kirigirisu holds Ajiro’s fist with both his hands. He has to strongly lean forward on his knees to do that, and sincerely hopes that no one enters the room to see them in that awkward pose.

“You saw there was nothing in my hand,” Ajiro says, “and you yourself are holding it closed now. Wouldn’t it be strange if something appeared inside?”

“Strange? That would really have to be magic!”

“Then let me show you magic.” Ajiro reaches from below with his right hand, fingers squeezing in inside his fist as if he wants to pull something out… and at the same time, a wisp of smoke rises from between his and Kirigirisu’s fingers.

“That’s impossible!” Kirigirisu forgets himself and yells when Ajiro pulls out the lit cigarette from inside his fist.

“That’s quite an overreaction,” Ajiro comments with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t even call it magic, more like a small sleight of hand.”

Kirigirisu isn’t sure what the difference would be, considering that even if it was sleight of hand, it definitely looked like pure magic to him… maybe even more than Gensui’s act. Gensui was a professional magician, so one could prepare emotionally for the meeting, expect to see a few illusions from him, and know deep inside that there is always a logical method behind his act.

Ajiro, on the other hand, has just randomly done something that made him look like a wizard.

Maybe it's the surprise involved that makes an act truly magical; had Kirigirisu known about Ajiro’s skills before, he probably wouldn’t be nearly as astonished. Without time to prepare, he felt the same shock he would if a case’s culprit turned out to be someone not even on the list of suspects.

...interesting how when his brain couldn’t understand the illusion, it instead started analysing his own reactions.

“Can I borrow one of yours?” Ajiro gestures to Kirigirisu’s pack of cigarettes.

“Take as many as you want, boss.”

“And I can do anything I want with them?”

“Yes, but… what are you going to do with them?”

“You won’t protest if I snap one in half, then?” And like he says, he does, despite definitely not being the type of person who would just take an underling’s cigarette and destroy it.

Before Kirigirisu can blink, Ajiro is throwing one half (only one half?) of the cigarette between his hands, playing catch ball with it. Eventually, he catches it in between fingers of both hands so that it can’t be seen. He opens his hands, revealing that the cigarette is now back to being whole.

“These are just bar tricks, but they help explain the use of misdirection.” Ajiro’s left hand makes a fist into which he inserts the cigarette. He holds it closed for a while, making strange stroking movements with his fingers, then opens his hand. No cigarette. Right hand empty as well.

Suddenly, Ajiro’s sight starts to wander, as if he’s noticed a fly. Kirigirisu follows his sight, but can’t see anything. Ajiro points to an empty spot in the air with his left hand, reaches there, grabs something invisible and holds it in his fist. He reaches inside his fist from below… and out comes the cigarette.

“Do what I do now, Kirigirisu.” Ajiro gestures at him to also take a cigarette and try imitating his strange grip. “Yes, just like that. Then you do this…” He moves his hands in slow motion, repeating a few times until Kirigirisu gets it right. “Once more. Hit your palms together at the end, as hard as you can.” As soon as they both clap, Ajiro shows both his hands, his cigarette nowhere to be seen. His left hand makes a fist, and just like before he reaches in with his right and pulls out the cigarette.

“What… how…?” Kirigirisu stammers out.

Ajiro opens his mouth to say something, but at that exact moment the room’s door is opened.

“Can I help you with something?” The inn’s employee looks inside the room. He must have heard them clap and assumed they were calling for him.

“Could you please tell us when our order will be ready?” Ajiro asks nonchalantly.

“We’re very sorry for the delay, we will bring it as soon as possible.”

“No, no, it’s all right. There’s no rush.”

The employee closes the door. Kirigirisu returns his sight to Ajiro… who already has his cigarette back and lit in his mouth, and gives him a very satisfied look before saying:

“And that, Kirigirisu, was misdirection.”

“I had the opportunity to pursue magic after I met the Saimons,” Ajiro explains once Kirigirisu comes out of shock. “It was frankly intimidating to realize just what mastery it requires and how it changes one’s life. There was a time when I trained religiously. Even now it’s a small hobby of mine, but not something I’d go around demonstrating to others. It’s not that I don’t want to; I still show the odd trick for my family sometimes. Souya is young enough that he believes I’m really a wizard, just like he believes in Santa Claus. But I really just know a few simple tricks that work better with the element of surprise.”

Kirigirisu can relate to little Souya, considering he also for a moment felt like Ajiro was using real magic. Well, losing his memories essentially made him a reborn man, so maybe in that sense he really resembles an innocent child sometimes. Which is to say, he’s pretty easy to deceive. It’s not like he can remember ever seeing magic before.

“I think you’re being too humble, boss,” he says. “It really looked like magic to me.”

“That’s because you don’t know anything about illusion yet. These were beginner acts, nothing to brag about... though it is true that the wide world of illusion is supported on the backs of amateurs more than professionals, and the latter all had to start somewhere. I’m really not much more than a beginner and haven’t mastered many things yet—and the unspoken rule of magic, the moral responsibility of a magician, is to never show anyone an illusion one hasn’t mastered. Not even those you fully trust.”

“Not even…?” Kirigirisu thinks that if he were ever to learn magic, he would for sure train in front of Kano so she could help point out mistakes. “Why not?”

“Because an imperfect illusion reveals the method behind it. For a magician, the method is his entire life, the utmost secret of his art. Do you think I’m exaggerating? Magicians aren’t wizards. They need secrets in order to work. They make a living by selling dreams. People know, of course, that there must be a logical explanation behind the illusion—but as long as the method is kept hidden, they can indulge in the charm of magic, briefly go back to being a child.”

“So revealing the method destroys the illusion… but I feel like what I just saw was simply too amazing. Surely its charm won't just completely disappear if I learn how it's done.”

“A lot of laymen think the same way. However, the moment I tell you the method, the wondrous feeling of true magic will surely disappear, as if you just came to your senses after a period of infatuation. When I look back at how easily charmed I was when I first saw simple illusions, it feels like looking back at how much you once believed in Santa Claus and bemoaning own ignorance.”

“But does this way of thinking really apply to all people? I think that rather than being annoyed or embarrassed at their old belief in Santa Claus, many would look back at it fondly as a memory of innocent times.”

“That is true. In a similar manner, we can divide people into two groups based on their approach towards illusion.”

“You mean that those who belittle their past selves for believing in Santa Claus would also lose all sense of wonder after learning the method behind an illusion? And conversely, those who look back at it fondly would still feel charmed?”

“That’s the easy way to describe it. The thing is, there’s few people for whom the magic wouldn’t be lost. Many methods are, once you know them, ridiculously simple. When learning the truth, many will feel deceived, deny that they were ever emotionally moved, consider the magician a swindler, and maybe even storm out in anger.” A tone of sadness can be heard in Ajiro’s voice, perhaps caused by his own experiences. “That’s not the only reason for secrecy. Another is that illusions are a sort of joint intellectual property belonging to all magicians. Exposing the secret impacts not just your own life, but lives of many others that use the same method, it may even expose an entire genre of the art of illusion. Usually, magicians only learn each other's methods through willing exchange.”

“So methods are kept secret in order to protect the entire magician community…”

“It’s not just to protect their own well-being; it’s also for the sake of their audience. Many amateurs seem to think that when a charmed spectator asks them to reveal the secret, they should do so—but it only breaks the illusion for them, sours the pleasant memory. Keeping the secret safe is actually the best thing you can do for your audience. The unspoken rules of conduct really boil down to what we know as Howard Thurston’s Three Rules in Magic. To tell you the truth, these are just a few of the rules Thurston listed, but these are the ones widely circulated in the magician community of Japan.”

The three rules are as follows:

1. Do not preemptively explain what you are going to do.

2. Do not show the same illusion twice to the same audience.

3. Even if asked directly, do not reveal the secret.

The third rule is obvious. The first one is easy to understand too: if Ajiro started his little show by saying he’s going to make the cigarette disappear, that would lessen the element of surprise and heighten the risk of Kirigirisu noticing how it was done. The second rule serves the same purpose, as someone seeing an illusion for the second time would already know what’s coming and probably be actively trying to guess the method, sometimes successfully.

“You may be thinking I showed you the same illusion four times in a row, but in reality these were four slightly different illusions connected in one routine,” Ajiro explains.

“I see. Just like Gensui performed one routine made of many little illusions. I understand the rule, but still… I would really love to see you perform your routine again, boss.”

By saying this, Kirigirisu doesn’t mean that he wants to try guessing the secret or challenge Ajiro in some way. It’s just an innocent wish to witness the magic again. Once he explains his feelings, maybe a bit too desperately, Ajiro smiles at him in response.

“I know you’re not the type of person to do things out of malice, I wouldn’t take you here if you were. You would never reveal a secret to anyone if you can help it. Well, maybe except to Kano… I’m joking. But it’s a point of personal morals for me to never show the same illusion twice to the same person, not even to you, not even to my own family. ...I hate to talk in hackneyed cliches, but that’s the truth. There are two kinds of people in the world: magicians and non-magicians. The distinction between amateurs and pros doesn’t matter, just like those who investigate fewer cases than us are nonetheless called detectives. It’s not even the matter of actually performing magic or not. What matters is having the right spirit. Even a talented master might be selling out secrets behind people’s back. Someone who can’t even perform a single illusion, but loves the world of magic with all their heart and guards its secrets, can be seen as a magician even when being a part of the audience. In fact, Kirigirisu—if you want, you can become a magician starting right now. How about it?”

“I… If I do decide to become a magician...” Kirigirisu’s voice is trembling. “What will I actually have to do in order to do that?”

“All you need is the right spirit. Be true to your heart’s love towards magic, and you shall be a magician.”

In order to never forget that, Ajiro has apparently created his own little set of rules for himself that he has never spoken about to anyone before Kirigirisu.

Ajiro’s Three Rules are as follows:

1. Do not boast about being a magician.

2. Remember to treat other magicians with respect.

3. Do not reveal your secrets to anyone who isn’t a magician.

Kirigirisu likes these rules; they are concise and easy to understand.

“But this aside,” he says, “why are you telling me all that about becoming a magician in the first place?”

“Because you asked to see my illusions again, and because I can see what sort of person you are. Usually, people unfit for magic lose interest after I talk to them about it, but you’re different. And you must have noticed that while my rules say to never reveal your secrets to others, there is one exception.”

“If the other person is also a magician...”

“That’s why I’m telling you all this. You only need determination to become a magician. So, Kirigirisu—won’t you become one?”

If he does, it means that he will be able to learn about Ajiro’s magic, and not only his, Gensui’s too… There’s only one answer Kigirisu can give to that.

And so, the magician Kirigirisu Tarou is born.

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads the saimon family case #maijo and jdc stuff

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seeaddywrite · 6 years ago

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“Everything you think I need isn’t what I need. What I need is you.” take your pic I'll be stoked with anything you write

for you, @ubiestcaelum! i hope you like it :) [also, y’all, just in case: warnings for non-graphic panic attack & references to child abuse & PTSD.]

EDIT: Now with a companion fic from Alex’s POV.

want to send a prompt?

Michael has no idea how to help Alex on bad days. The airman had been right, when he came to the trailer and pointed out that they don’t really know each other – they’ve never spent a lot of time talking. As teenagers, they had to sneak around to spend time together, and there were far more interesting things to do. And then, well – after that, there was never enough time. They’ve been better about it lately, while trying to learn how to be friends, but Michael still doesn’t know how Alex lost his leg, or what to do when the other man turns pale and withdrawn in the middle of the Wild Pony during a particularly raucous bar fight.

The crowd is thick and loud around them, talking and laughing as Max’s coworkers haul the two combatants out the front door. Everyone else sitting around their table returns to their conversations; Liz is leaning against Max’s shoulder, laughing at something he murmured in her ear, while Isobel and Kyle Valenti toss verbal barbs back and forth across their beers. And all the while, Alex seems to get smaller and smaller, pulling into himself and

It blows his mind that no one else seems to notice how Alex has pulled away from the conversation and looks like he’s about to puke. He smiles and nods along when he’s forced, but Michael can see the facade, and the way it seems to slip lower with each passing second. He glances at Liz, hiding it with a long drag from his beer bottle. She’s one of Alex’s best friends; surely, she’d notice Alex’s tension? The way none of his smiles reach his eyes, or the slight trembling in his fingers when he forgets to grip the bottle in his hands tightly enough to hide it?

But even if Liz knows Alex well enough to pick up on the signs that he’s so good at hiding, she’s too lost in Max to notice tonight. He almost wishes he could be that oblivious … but for the past two months of friendship with Alex, he’s made a study of the man’s tells and nonverbal cues. He has an intimate knowledge of the slope of his shoulders and the lines in his face, and can close his eyes and picture exactly the way Alex looks when he’s relaxed and smiling. It’s a little pathetic, he supposes, his inability to look away from Alex. It’s been made clear, time and time again, that Alex doesn’t want Michael as anything more than a friend, and friends definitely don’t do that sort of thing. But there’s no switch to flip, no way to force himself to let go of the feelings he’s had since the day he stole Alex’s guitar from the music room, and Michael doesn’t think he’d do it, even if he could.

“Alex?” No one else is going to do anything, and Michael is physically incapable of watching Alex struggle alone right in front of him. “Hey, you good, man?” He keeps his voice quiet, and leans forward so that only the intended recipient of his whisper will hear. Michael knows enough of who Alex is to know that he wouldn’t want attention brought to the faraway look in his eyes, and he certainly wouldn’t want anyone fussing over him. So, uncertain as he is, Michael shoves his own chair between the others and Alex, shielding him from view with the bulk of his body, and tentatively reaches out to brush his fingertips against the back of Alex’s hand in an effort to get his attention.

A full-body flinch is the response, and Michael yanks his hand back as Alex finally turns his head to look at him, the motion jerky. Awkward silence falls between them, even as someone turns the music back up on the jukebox in the corner, and Michael rubs at the back of his neck uncertainly. “You want to get out of here?” he asks finally, after another minute of staring, wherein it seems like Alex is trying to say something without opening his mouth, and all Michael can worry about it overstepping one of the many lines that have been drawn between them.

The responding nod is immediate, if a little uncoordinated. They didn’t come together, but Michael doesn’t think he can just walk Alex to his car and watch him drive off like this. What if he’s too distracted to drive safely? What if there’s something really wrong, and he shouldn’t be left alone? There are too many questions and Michael’s too chicken-shit to ask for the answers. He’s been shoved out of Alex’s life so many times that he’s still recovering from the whiplash, and Michael doesn’t know if he can take another round. But Alex is looking at him with something bordering desperation in his familiar, dark gaze, and Michael isn’t soulless enough to let that look go unanswered.

“Guys, I’m gonna call it a night,” Michael announces to their assembled friends, standing up from his chair and shoving it back into place beneath the table.

“Michael Guerin, calling it a night after one drink?” Isobel teases, lifting her lined eyes to his. “No way! Stay here and drink with us!” She’s already pretty drunk, judging by the way her speech slurs and she doesn’t make a single disparaging remark about the bar. Max is going to have a hell of a time getting her home, but he’s got Liz and Valenti for backup, and it’s not like she doesn’t deserve to try to drink her sorrows away after everything she’s been through in the past few months.

“I’ll see you for dinner at your place tomorrow,” he promises her, leaning forward to brush his lips to the top of her hair. Michael glances at Max while she can’t see him, and his brother nods once, a resigned quirk of his lips obvious only to those who knew him well. He’s as worried about Isobel as Michael is, but nothing but time is going to heal the wounds that Noah left in their sister, and for now, Alex is a more pressing concern.

He turns back to the other man after he finishes his goodbyes. He’s still pale, but seems to have pulled himself together enough to wave at the others. Then, Alex gestures down at his leg with a small sigh, glancing at Michael and then away, like he’s ashamed of something. “Think you could give me a hand?” The question is quiet and a little strained, but hearing Alex’s voice relaxes Michael a little. At least if he’s still talking, things can’t be that bad. Can they?

Without a word, Michael holds out his hands. Months ago, he would’ve just grabbed him by the waist and pulled him up, relishing in the proximity of their bodies. But things are different now, and the only way he touches Alex now is if the other man makes the first overture. He doesn’t have to wait long; Alex’s shaking fingers wrap around Michael’s steady hands, and he pulls him up out of the chair, automatically taking his weight when he stumbles. Vaguely, Michael hears Max and Liz asking if they need help, but he just waves them off and makes sure Alex is steady before starting toward the entrance of the bar. They’ll have plenty of questions to answer when they face their friends again, and most of them will probably be annoying and nosy, but that’s a problem for later.

The moment they’re outside, Alex stops pretending that he’s supporting himself and slumps against Michael’s chest in a rare show of vulnerability. His cheek rests against the top of Michael’s shoulder, Alex’s rapid breath making the side of his neck feel humid and sending a ticklish thrill down his spine. “Hey,” Michael murmurs, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do with his hands, now. He can’t let go without worrying that Alex will fall, but part of him is afraid that the longer he holds on, the harder it will be when he has to let go. “You okay?”

Alex’s responding chuckle is mirthless. “You already know the answer to that,” he says, the strain of holding casual conversation obvious in his voice.

Michael doesn’t bother to deny it. “You checked out on us during that fight. You faked it pretty well for a while, but I – I could tell something was wrong.” It’s as close to asking what’s going on in Alex’s head as he’s going to get. “You want me to take you home? Maria won’t let anyone tow your SUV.” Talking so nonchalantly is harder than it should be with Alex’s warmth seeping into him. This is the closest they’ve been since they had sex before that night at the drive-in, and Michael wants to bury his head in the sand and pretend that the proximity isn’t just because Alex is looking for any port in a storm.

“I can –”

“If you’re about to try to tell me you can drive home, save it. I know you’re a badass, okay? I know you can take care of yourself, and you don’t want me around when you feel like shit because we’re just friends, or whatever your problem is this time. But your hands are shaking, and I’m not letting you drive until I’m sure you’re going to make it the whole way out to that cabin safely.” God, why is it so fucking hard for Alex to let Michael help, just a little? He’s not asking to spend the night! He just wants to make sure he’s safe. Are they really on such bad terms now that he can’t care at all?

There’s a beat of silence. “I was just going to say that I can send her a text tomorrow and ask her to have someone drive it to the cabin,” Alex says, so quietly that Michael can barely hear it. His entire body has gone rigid, and before Michael can figure out what the problem is, he’s pulling away to stand on his own. “I’d appreciate the ride. If you don’t mind.”

The formality makes Michael want to rip his hair out of his head, but he bites back a snappish reply and just nods to his truck, parked almost directly in front of them. He wants to ask if Alex can get in on his own; he seems awfully unsteady on his feet, still, and Michael assumes that something has gone wrong with his bad leg, but again, the questions just turn into a lump in his throat. Alex manages on his own, though, rendering that a moot point, so Michael walks around and climbs into the driver’s side silently.

Neither of them speak for the first ten minutes. Alex spends the time with his hands curled into fists on his thighs, his face pale and drawn in the moonlight that shines through the windshield. He doesn’t seem to be any better now that they’ve left the bar, which Michael had hoped would be enough. But it isn’t, and he’s not able to just leave things this way. “What happened?” he asks finally, the question shattering the tense silence.

“The guy Hank punched fell on me,” Alex answers abruptly, the words short and terse. “Just for a minute. But my damn leg has been aching all day, and he jolted the prosthetic. It hurts, and I don’t – I can’t –” His breath is coming so rapidly that it sounds like he’s panting, and Michael looks toward him, ready to pull over as soon as Alex gives him a reason. “I panic, sometimes. When it hurts. It’s stupid, and there’s no fucking reason for it, but -”

Michael thinks he gets it. Sometimes, when his hand spasms in the middle of the night, he wakes up sure that Jesse Manes is in the trailer with him. It always takes some time for his heart to stop racing, after that, and he never quite manages to fall back to sleep. Alex’s trauma is so much worse; it doesn’t surprise him that the same thing might happen in his case without the added disorientation of sleep. “Panic doesn’t usually need a reason,” he says evenly. “Anything I can do to help?”

They’re pulling into Alex’s driveway now, and Michael can practically see his chance to be with Alex and actually do something to help slipping away. Alex will go inside to lick his wounds privately, and Michael will be left on the other side of the door, waiting and wondering and wishing, until he’s forced to give up and leave.

As soon as the engine turns off, Michael finds himself locked in a staring contest with Alex, who’s eyes have that same desperate and expectant look in them from back at the bar. Michael returns the look helplessly, wordlessly conveying that he doesn’t know what Alex wants or needs from him. “Alex –”

There’s no time to finish the thought before the other man has his hands in a death grip, clutching so tightly that Michael can feel his fingernails break skin. It makes his bad hand ache a little, but that’s not nearly a good enough reason to pull away from Alex. In fact, Michael could have been bleeding out, and he would’ve still held Alex’s hand. “Don’t make me ask, Guerin.” The whisper catches him by surprise, and Michael’s mouth closes with a surprised snap. “Please?”

“Isobel’s the mind reader, Alex,” he retorts, a hint of defensiveness running through the words despite his best efforts. “I can’t just look in your head to figure out if you need space, or a ride, or hand to hold, or whatever it is you’re angling for right now. You’ve gotta actually say it.”

Alex sighs, and shakes his head. “Everything you think I need isn’t what I need,” he says, and for the first time in the last hour, his gaze is steady. “I mean, maybe the handholding thing would be nice, but I’ve had so much space lately that I can’t stand it. This isn’t going to get any better, Michael.” His fingers tremble around Michael’s hands, and wordlessly, Michael reverses them, so that he’s holding Alex’s clasped palms between both of his, keeping them still. Alex stares down at their entwined hands for a long moment, biting at his lower lip, as if he can’t decide how to finish, or how much he should say.

“I’ve been trying to stay away from you until I get my head together, because I don’t know that I can be what you need, right now. And it’s not fair for me to keep running away every time you help me keep it together. I’m a fucking mess, and I don’t – Jesus, Michael, some days I can’t even get out of bed. What kind of man does that? What kind of boyfriend could I be? But – I think, maybe – what I need is you. If there’s even still a chance of that.”

Michael just stares at Alex for a long moment, trying to put that speech and its ramifications into the boundaries and lines drawn between him and Alex. It doesn’t fit, it doesn’t make sense – but it does, at the same time. Because of course Alex thinks he’s a mess. Of course Alex has been struggling since he lost his leg. It’s so ingrained in Alex to think that’s he’s the problem, that his issues are an inconvenience thanks to his fucked-up, psychopathic father – and Michael should have known that. He should have been here a long time ago, rather than sulking about his broken heart.

But he’s here now, and he can’t change the past.

“Ask me,” he says, bringing Alex’s hands up to press his lips to shaking fingers. “Just ask, Alex.”

Uncertainty wars with hope in Alex’s eyes, and Michael wants to reassure him, to tell him to forget the words, and just take him inside and wrap him up in his arms, if that’s what Alex wants. But there’s a chasm between them, put there by years of mistakes and harsh words on both sides, and Michael needs to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what Alex’s expectations are. What he wants. Because if he fucks this up now, Michael doesn’t know if he’ll be able to come back from it.

“Stay,” Alex says finally, his voice cracking. “Just – stay.” His hands break free of Michael’s and scrabble at his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer, or maybe hold him there, like he’s afraid the word will send him running. And Michael doesn’t hesitate; he leans awkwardly over the center console and hugs Alex tightly, ignoring the damn thing as it pushes into his side.

“You’re okay,” he promises, one hand cradling the back of Alex’s head while the man burrows into the space between his shoulder and neck, his entire body trembling. “Just breathe, Alex. I’m not going anywhere.”

There’s more to be said, he knows, but Michael isn’t cruel enough to make Alex spell it all out tonight. He got what he needed; for now, he’s going to give Alex what he asked for. And maybe, when all’s said and done, they can keep each other from falling apart.

#malex fic #michael guerin/alex manes #my fic #this feels a little off #but i like the overall feel #so i'm posting it anyway

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years ago

Text

CS ff: “Love So Sweetly” (Part 2 of 2) (au)

Summary: If you ask either of them, they’ll both claim it isn’t their fault. It starts with feuding musicians, a pair of handcuffs, and the evolution a relationship can go through over the course of 24 hours.

Rating: M

Warnings: handcuffs?

A/N: My goodness. It’s finally finished. AND I had to bump the rating back DOWN for once. WTF is that?! Lol. Sorry all. This is a first in my book, too. Much love to all the usual players for their help, especially @phiralovesloki and @captainstudmuffin for their phenomenal beta and proofreading duties. And to the Discord ladies for putting up with the fact that I only pop in ever three days to randomly yell something and promptly fall asleep. Special side dedication goes to @let-it-raines for the most recent time I ran in and screamed something in there. LOL. All right - without further ado... I hope you all enjoy this!

Find it on Ao3 or FFN!

-x-

Trying to sprint after a hint of Granny was maybe not his brightest idea. Now he’s even more exhausted than he was before, and he can feel Emma dragging along beside him as they turn another corner to find it barren of all humanity.

It’s only then that he becomes aware of how quiet it’s gotten. This late at night, all of the stages are shut down and even the dance parties that sometimes happen after hours seem to be missing tonight, probably due to the lurking clouds in the distance. They’re deep in the campgrounds, and he can hear music drifting from some of the different tents and yurts, various styles and levels of skill, but gentle music surrounds them.

“Killian, we have to stop. I’m too tired. We’ll find her in the morning. Let’s just… head out.”

“Aye, love. Sorry we lost her again,” he grumbles, wanting nothing more than to sleep for days after the evening they’ve had.

“God, and all I have to look forward to after all of this is to figure out how we’ll both fit on my stupid bunk!” Emma grouses as they slowly wander through the campgrounds.

He blames the fact that the tent they’re passing has some spirited amorous activities going on it in for why it takes him so long to connect what she’s just said with their current predicament.

“You only have a bunk?” he asks with the rise of an eyebrow. He’d just assumed she was up in the swankier trailers on the top of the hill – it’s where all the other headliners seem to have congregated for the duration of the festival.

“Yeah,” she says distractedly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes shift over to the tent he’s been trying to avoid and her eyebrows go clear up to her hairline when she looks back at him. There’s a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth but she says nothing.

“On a bus?” he asks, trying to distract them both from a fireworks-worthy ending as they pass the lovers.

“Yeah,” she repeats a little harsher this time, and Killian suppresses the chuckle that comes unbidden. Her tone speaks of something more than frustration at the conversation, and while there’s a temptation to prod and see what responses he could elicit, he chooses the higher road. Well, sort of.

“Oh, love, for once I finally get the upper hand with you. Turn to your left up here. We’ll go find my humble abode.”

“Killian, I’m not sleeping on a pile of rocks in some flimsy tent.”

“Where on earth would you get the notion I was sleeping in a tent? Those things are bloody miserable. Unless you’re those people, of course.” He hitches his thumb at the tent that’s now almost out of view and he smiles.

“I just – “

“Assumed that’s where I would be staying with my much smaller named band?” He cuts in, more amused than offended, and takes charge in leading them away from the truly muddy path to the less-trodden grass around them. With a few searches for landmarks and a couple more turns, he gestures in front of them to the small yurt he’s rented out. “Behold! My pirate’s lair!”

“You take this pirate crap way too seriously, for one. Also, it’s not the exterior that counts, Jones. You said it yourself. I want to see the inside of this before I pass judgement.”

With a smug grin and a lift of his eyebrows, Killian unlocks the door and pushes it open, finding the switch for the lamp next to the door to bathe the area in a soft glow. Emma whimpers at the sight, clearly seeing their sleeping arrangements for the evening as acceptable.

“Bed,” she whispers, following automatically as Killian pulls her in the rest of the way and shuts the doors behind them. From outside, the soft sounds of rain begin, and Killian is thankful they didn’t have to do another soggy dash to safety this time.

He secures the latch from the inside and goes to move towards the bed, only to realize they’re still fully clothed. With one tap of his boot to hers, Emma snaps out of it and struggles to unstick the zippers from the mud that’s begun to cake them. Killian kicks off his own before holding her steady as she balances to pry each one of hers off in turn.

Funny, when he had originally decided to full-on rent a yurt, it was for the idea of bringing back a lady friend for a night or two. He had no idea this was going to be the end result.

There’s a hidden intimacy in the delicate dance they do in the doorway, trying to ready themselves for sleep when they are both so far outside their comfort zones. He imagines, suddenly, the context being different as she brushes an errant strand of hair off her face and waits for him to grab the lamp from its hook and lead her over.

He looks disparagingly down at the both of them, but reasons with himself that the bedding is all old stuff specifically brought along in case it gets dirty, so it doesn’t exactly matter. What matters is that there’s an inexpensive mattress and pillows and they’re finally about to relax for the first time since either of them woke up yesterday morning.

“Phone,” he says, holding out his free hand to her. When she doesn’t automatically do anything, Killian smiles patiently. “I have a power pack that’s fully charged. And I have any type of cord you need. Surely after a day of running around, you’ll need a charge, yeah?”

She grumbles out some response, digging her phone out of a pocket on the side of her leggings and handing it over. They both shift to the side for a moment so he can plug in their phones and set down the lantern on the side he reasons he’ll be sleeping on.

They do another shuffle to get to where they’ll need to be in order to get into the bed before they both collapse onto the foot of the bed, pushing up and maneuvering until they’re under the covers. Side by side, they both exhale in relief as their heads hit the pillows. Emma, in a fit of wanting to be comfortable, insists on removing her leggings, and Killian endures the five-minute process of having his shoulder jolted until she’s happy.

The leggings get tossed off the side of the bed, and then he makes her go through the same thing as he pulls off his jeans. He could’ve withstood wearing them, but if she’s going to make herself at home, he’s going to do the same.

“Thanks,” Emma says quietly, after they’re both settled. “And I mean, for everything. Not just the bed. This could’ve been a disaster, but it hasn’t been the worst day I’ve ever had.”

“Same to you, love.” He pauses, taking the opportunity to roll on his side the best he can to look over at her. When she shifts as well, they both bring their hands up to tuck under their pillows. It leaves them practically nose to nose with the length of the chain.

“Your first festival, huh?

“Aye, and it was luck we got into this spot.”

“How long had you been trying?”

“This was the third attempt. The only reason we got the invite is because another band double booked for the weekend and since they’d participated a few times in the past at this one, they decided to give up their invitation.”

“It took us four tries before we made it in, and that first year, Regina was here to see another band. Once she saw us, she signed us almost immediately and the band took off. I still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“You’re a hero, Swan. I’ve seen your fans. They adore you.”

“Yeah, well, so are you. I got to see that firsthand today.”

He has no response to that, other than a flustered shrug. It’s a risk to reveal too much – he knows this, and yet, he can’t stop himself from telling her more. “You know, I rather fancy you when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Yeah?”

He hums out affirmation, letting his eyes roam over her facial features and take in all the details he’s seen in pictures. There’s different flecks of colors in her eyes that the photos just can’t capture, and he watches the faint light dance there. Her laugh lines are peeking out with the way she’s barely smiling. Barely, but still…

“Good,” she says after a moment. It’s like permission and acceptance all at once. He watches her eyes start to flutter, her body finally succumbing to the length of their day. “Goodnight, Killian.” Her quiet sentiments drift through the space between them, and he’s overtaken again by the urge to kiss her. It would be so easy, but it would mean so much more than just one night at this point.

“Sweet dreams, Swan.”

With no further preamble, he finds the switch for the lantern and flips it. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, and Emma is a turbulent sleeper as he soon finds out. She ends up wrapped around him shortly after her breathing evens out. Her head rests near his shoulder, and he’s thankful for the still darkness surrounding them. Unable to sleep, the best he can do is hold his breath every time she shifts and twitches next to him.

As the night chills further, he’s thankful for Emma’s improvised pullover. Or step-into. It was quite the ridiculous process but she never seemed cold from that point forward, so he’s pretty sure it was a total success. Now, that same item is keeping him warm as the summer temperatures fluctuate to their low.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Killian’s body fully relaxes and he slips into sleep, unintentionally pulling Emma closer as they both flutter through their dreams. He’s surprised then, to be awoken shortly after that, after he’d already entered a dream where they held hands without being locked together.

It’s way too early when Emma shakes him awake, and the space around them is still dark in pre-dawn bliss.

“I’m sorry,” she says when he finally wrenches open his eyes. “I have to use the bathroom.”

She’s so close, her breath fanning across his neck when she speaks, and he feels the sleepy surge of want roll through him. Instead, he clears his throat and rubs at his eyes, trying to push away the image in his head of kissing her until they both forget about the calls of their bodies.

With a yawn, Killian waves away her apology and motions her to follow him out of the bed so he can grab a pair of track shorts to slip into. He’s shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers when he turns and sees Emma, one sock lost to the covers and her legs bare. The sweatshirt from the day prior falls just to her thighs, and he swallows hard as his eyes trail back up the length of her body to meet her eyes.

“Would you like, um, for the walk?” He holds up a pair of clean boxers from his stock, trying hard to stop from transfixing on her legs some more.

She shakes her head, seemingly unaware or totally uncaring of her half-dressed state as she rips the second sock from her right foot and slips back into her boots. It’s an utterly ridiculous outfit – boots up to her knees and sweater only, from appearances, but suddenly Killian has to go through chords in his mind as he wills his body to stay neutral to the woman beside him.

“Let’s go,” she says, waiting just long enough for him to secure the lock on the outside before they wander off in search of a better bathroom than the portaloo experiences they had yesterday. All of the trips were necessary but always very uncomfortable.

After a few turns, they can see the VIP section at the top of a hill, and Killian sighs in relief. This will have stalls, where they can both stand inside, even if that’s slightly more awkward. At least they’ll be clean, with running sinks. They start the trek upward, but it doesn’t take long before Killian’s shoe loses grip on the incline.

“Oh, son of a –“

“Hey, whoa!”

The moment his footing is gone, so is Emma’s, and the both of them slide back down on their hands and knees. They stay there for a moment, the shock and the exhaustion just weighing on them for a moment.

“Fuck,” Emma exhales.

It takes three more attempts for them to get up the hill, and it’s with no lack of attitude that Emma fishes her badge out from beneath the hoodie and swipes them into one of the trailers reserved for those with the clearance for them.

First comes rinsing off their hands to avoid getting mud in places they really wouldn’t want it, and then business, of course. He hums a medley of Beatles tunes to keep them both distracted from the situation. They switch spots when she’s done, and they hum together through the last of his turn. It’s as they’re washing all their collective hands when Emma realizes there’s a shower stall where he initially thought there was another accessible toilet. She nudges him, directing his gaze with a nod in that direction.

They hadn’t come up with a plan, not really, but this might be able to get them minimally less muddy before they get back to his accommodations. There’s also some splattered along the braid that Ruby twisted her hair into sometime after their set.

“You can go first, if you’d like,” he tells her, motioning toward the potential of being clean.

She’s slowly picking at the safety pins holding the jumper on her shoulder, but something is holding her back. For once, their hands swing un-joined between them, but as she considers something, her pinkie finger reaches out and brushes against his.

“I mean,” she starts, her eyes focusing on anything but him. “It would be easier if we were in there together.” For a moment, he thinks that yeah, it would be easier if they got in there together. And her fingers slowly slide against his, her thumb brushing along his as she shifts a little closer.

When the words and their meaning finally sink through his sleep-addled brain, Killian snorts. “Why, Emma Swan, did you just proposition me to shower with you?” He tugs at their joined hands to bring her attention back to him, and there he finds several emotions flickering through her expression.

She wants; that much is plain to see just by looking. She’s uncertain, and he doesn’t blame her. It’s a bit of a risk to sleep with someone you’re undeniably stuck with, and sometimes a risk to sleep with someone you can immediately walk away from. What strikes him most is that her eyes reflect a level of passion he was not expecting. When she looked at him at the end of their set, she set his blood pumping harder than it had been from performing. Now to see it reflected back is quite the unexpected turn.

“If you don’t think you can handle it…”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” Killian counters, his eyebrow flicking up in challenge. This is it. This will be the moment that decides their course of action. Much like the anticipation during their disagreement, he waits for her next move.

And wait he does; Emma stands there immobile for what feels like hours before she yanks him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She crowds him into the outer chamber of the shower, shoving the door shut behind them as she angles her head for a kiss deeper and stronger than the last.

He has kissed all sorts of women in his lifetime, but one thing is startlingly clear very quickly: Killian Jones has never kissed a woman like Emma Swan, and he could spend the rest of his life trying to recapture the way she feels and never again find it.

There’s heat and desire in the way she moves against him, and Killian will blame it on the sleep deprivation that he doesn’t consider the thousands of outcomes this moment might have. Instead, he’s intent on pulling the band from the end of Emma’s braid and slowly unwinding the thick plait with his free hand. Their joined arms are caught between their bodies, hands clasped tightly as they dive deeper into the kiss.

Removing clothing is quite the obstacle. They work together to unpin the sweater from her shoulder, leaving it hanging from one of the hooks in the small dressing space outside of the actual shower.. The stall itself is pristine, likely unused by any of the festival participants if the walls are still this sparkling white, so neither of them take much issue with kicking off their shoes and stepping into the vinyl area after removing as much as they can. His shirt, for instance, ends up balled up along the chain, along with the top she’s wearing. His now-muddy shorts end up with their shoes, water be damned.

It’s not everything – it could be but there’s some unspoken agreement between them that it’s just not feasible right now. They’re down to just underwear, but it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination as they both find each other under the steady-but-unimpressive spray of water falling down on them. He wants to look, but he’s more interested in the way Emma’s mouth fits against his, and the way the slick skin of her back feels beneath his palm.

Their shower is stilted, interrupted by intimate touches and wandering hands, as well as figuring out the logistics of how to hold their joined arms so the clothing they can’t get rid of doesn’t weigh them down. They do the best they can, though, and struggle to dry off with the towels provided. They wring out their shirts from where they still got wet, and Killian balls up his shorts with her sweatshirt to take back to the yurt. It’ll be cold outside but if they hustle, they’ll be warm again soon enough. With as much as necessary back in place, they push out into the predawn light hand in hand.

They carefully pick their way across the campgrounds to stay as close to clean as they can. As they walk, Emma hums a familiar tune, and Killian does his best to find the harmony as she continues. It speaks volumes more than anything they could say; he resists the urge to sing the lyrics as they fit the circumstances just a little too well.

My honey I know with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me...

The sun is just barely cresting over the horizon, but that doesn’t dissuade them from shutting the door to the rented space, locking themselves away from the outside world for just a few hours more.

They may currently be chained together, but Killian genuinely has no idea where the next day will take them. This far in, this far deep, he knows he may walk away with a heartache if it all fell apart in the light of day.

-x-

While everything had remained dormant on their trip back to the yurt, Emma is pleased when Killian is already meeting her halfway when she turns to him inside the door. With impatient movements, they leave their shoes by the door, and she urges him to drop the clothes he’s still holding. They make their way back to the bed, and Emma crawls into his lap and presses their linked hands into the mattress by Killian’s head as her mouth turns greedy.

She wants him bare, she wants all of him, dammit, and he growls into the kiss as if he knows this as she fists her free hand in his hair to hold him steady against her, their lips devouring. She wants, wants, wants, but Killian pulls back for a moment, halting her in her tracks.

“Emma, before this goes any further, I have to know that you’re sure about this.”

The fact that he asks makes Killian one of the most considerate men she’s ever gone to bed with. Here she is, in his lap, half-naked, chained to him, and he’s still willing to give it all up if she just says the word.

There’s some part of her that almost takes the out: this could get weird. They’re likely going to be spending the rest of this festival together if they can’t get ahold of Granny tomorrow. Not that there’s much more festival to contend with. After their set in the afternoon, her obligations are completed. She could always get him back to Storybrooke and get Billy to cut off the cuffs if she has to.

And in the meantime, she thinks, here Killian is beneath her, the hard length of his cock pressed almost exactly where she wants it to be. She doesn’t have to sleep with him, she knows this, but they can certainly have some fun. Any guy willing to track down the best onion rings at the festival for her is worthy of that, in her opinion.

Something suddenly clicks in her mind, something about the food from yesterday. “Killian,” she says, her eyes trained on his. “How did you know about the onion rings? How did you know to offer me that specific food?”

It’s equal parts totally endearing and hilarious to watch Killian’s face turn red. Right to the tips of his ears and down his neck are all a tomato red she never anticipated and he blinks several times in surprise.

“Lucky guess,” he says, but it’s a lie. She can tell just by the intonation, by the way his eyes flutter so he’s not fully meeting her gaze.

“Try again.”

He sighs, shifting his focus away from her and looking somewhere at the top of the yurt. When he does speak, it’s muttered, and she has the distinct feeling that he’s hoping she can’t hear him in the quiet stillness of the solitary space. But oh, she hears him loud and clear. “Everyone knows that Emma Swan’s favorites are grilled cheese and onion rings, and hot chocolate depending on the weather. With cinnamon,” he adds at the very end, finally chancing a look at her again.

This is the first time he’s openly admitted that he’s one of her fans – in fact, when they started arguing yesterday about whatever it was that started the argument, she was sure he was totally oblivious to who she was.

“You follow me on Instagram?”

His face morphs into something distinctly mortified, but she doesn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, she bites her lip to stop the laugh that wants to escape and leans down to kiss him again. She pushes all thoughts of his previous knowledge of her to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the way his tongue is tracing along her top row of teeth before he suddenly sits up. His free arm wraps around her waist to hold her steady as he pulls her down hard against him and she gasps at the sensation.

There’s a startling thought in her mind that she could get used to this - the push and pull of who has control. They shift the dominance often enough that her stomach swoops every time he gains it back, knowing he’ll turn to putty in her arms again in a matter of moments. There’s no chance they’ll be able to be naked for this experience, so they come to a mutual understanding that they’ll take what they can get. This can be good enough, because it has to be for now.

The real question is whether or not the “for now” part will turn into “to be continued” for them. Where the thought even comes from is beyond her, but just as suddenly, their future possibilities flee her mind because Killian lines up perfectly, his erection pressing through their underwear to slide just right against her clit and her breath hitches as she buries her head against his neck, letting her teeth graze along his skin to taste and tease.

With the blood rushing in her ears, it takes her a while to grasp that Killian is repeating her name like a mantra, perfectly timed with his thrusts, and she can feel how close the both of them are by the tension in his shoulders and the way she’s clutching tightly to any part of him she can. And then she’s there, climax quick but powerful, her thighs shaking as she sits astride his lap, and she cries out softly against him as she holds on tight. It doesn’t take more than a few more thrusts until he’s following behind her, his body going rigid for a few seconds before he coaxes her head back to kiss her again.

“You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

His voice, his smile, the sincere look in his eyes – it’s all too much and not enough all at once and Emma closes her eyes to kiss him again, suddenly terrified of what this all means. She hasn’t felt like this in so long, and not just the boneless pleasure of a good orgasm. Killian is the first person who hasn’t dangled her fame in her face or used that as the badge to get into bed with her. It strikes her again that it took nearly the length of a whole day for him to even admit he was a fan prior to their meeting.

All of a sudden, she’s exhausted, dealing with both the physical toll their last day has had on her and the emotional toll that she just did that with him, and so she lets Killian shift her to stand and shuffle them around until he can reach his stash of clothes. This time, she accepts the boxers he hands her in favor of swapping out her underwear. They stand side-by-side, changing in tandem, and they both seem to respect the unsaid rule of no peeking.

She doesn’t have a chance to overanalyze after that; Killian leads her back to the bed, going so far as to maneuver in a way that he’s pressed against her back, their clasped hands nestled against her chest. She’s asleep in no time again, lulled by the sound of whatever Killian is humming and the gentle pressure of his lips against her shoulder.

She wakes to the sound of their phones both ringing. She’s so tired, though, that she reaches out with her right hand and stops short when she realizes it’s still attached to Killian’s left. She grunts, then, switching hands as Killian stirs, murmuring something about shutting off their alarms as he burrows into her hair.

Without looking, she silences the ringtone and lets her arm fall back to the bed. Of course, the ringing starts right back up and Emma finally wrenches open one eye enough to look at the caller ID on her screen. She flicks at the screen, accepting the call and shoving the phone against her ear.

“What?”

“Emma, ping your damn location right now so Granny can get those cuffs off. We play in two hours. Do you hear me? Two hours.”

It takes a couple minutes for Ruby’s rushed words to connect in her brain, and then Emma’s gasping, sitting up in a tangle of arms and not even paying attention as Ruby rants on while still connected.

“I’ll ping it,” she blurts out, hurrying to end the call so she can share her location with her friend in order for her to locate the yurt in the camp. “Killian, get up,” Emma urges. She shakes him the best she can, turning in their pretzel to face him and leaning down to press her lips against his frantically. “Hey, wake up!”

He seems much happier to rejoin the land of the living when she’s kissing him, but it can’t last. She has to hurry. Besides, the intimacy of that move after such a short period of time has her rattled more than she expected it would. There’s a part of her that wants to just keep kissing him, wants to stay in this bed in this little cocoon they’ve created for themselves. And while she knows she could have that, theoretically...

“We’re about to have company,” she tells him, finally breaking through his sleep haze.

“Somebody to join for a threesome, then?”

She smacks his shoulder for that, biting her lip against the chuckle that wants to break out. “No, unless you want me to step outside while you and Granny have a good time,” she says. His eyes pop open at that.

“Oh, then we’re getting out of jail?” He lifts the chain for emphasis before he struggles to sit up. They scramble off the bed like that, and Killian unlatches the door just in time for a golf cart with Granny and Ruby to pull up right outside.

“Finally! Have a good night, lovebirds?” Ruby’s already dressed, her make-up and hair impeccable, and her smile is wide and bright. “Here,” she says, leaning off the cart to hand them the key and handing it back to Granny when they’ve each unlatched the offending metal.

Emma and Killian both take a moment to rub at their wrists before Ruby interrupts to remind Emma they’re on a deadline.

“Sure, of course, gimme just a minute, okay?”

The way Ruby’s eyebrow raises up is all Emma needs and she gives her friend a pointed look while slipping back just inside the door to find her leggings and boots. She wraps her sadly dirty hoodie around her waist before she looks at Killian.

“Well, I guess this eliminates the need to find another song to duet today,” she remarks, trying to put some humor into the moment. He does chuckle, but it’s dry and solemn.

“Aye, but that’s okay. You’ll enjoy your show more when you’re able to move around without me holding you back.”

There’s something in the way he says it that punches at her heart despite the way he smiles when he says it. So it’s only natural that she’d soothe that statement with a kiss. This one is a tinge desperate and apologetic because she’s about to dash away for her own performance and they’ve just left everything a giant question mark.

“I’ll see you around,” she breathes out, a smile tilting up her lips as she runs her fingers along the back of his ear, her thumb playing with his earring for just a second. Without further ado, she plants one last kiss directly on his lips and darts out the door. She does her best to not look back and instead focuses on the day ahead of them.

Ruby’s words are ringing through her brain as they speed back to the bus where Emma can shower and change. She flashes through the water as fast as she can, only cleaning her body and leaving her hair naturally wavy as it dried last night.

“Is Killian coming to watch?” Mary Margaret asks from her left as Emma painstakingly applies her makeup. Her hands are shaking, just the tiniest bit. It’s probably the lack of sleep, and so she pauses from applying her eyeshadow to take another deep gulp of the coffee that they had waiting for her.

“I don’t know,” she answers, trying for a dismissive tone. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with anything surrounding that topic right now so she hopes that Mary Margaret drops it. Her hand shakes a little more and she takes a steadying breath before swiping on her eyeliner as carefully as she can. With practiced speed, she coats her lashes in mascara and stands, giving herself one last look.

If there’s a word to describe how she feels she looks right now, it’s “softer.” It’s more than just the hair and the lack of false eyelashes. The outfit she’s wearing is the same as she would always go on stage with. The jeans are practically painted on, her backup boots are up to her calves, and the tank top she’s wearing flows freely around her torso to give her room to breathe. So she guesses it must be something about her expression, about the small smile that won’t go away no matter how stern she tries to look as she makes one last fix to her lipstick.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Emma says, giving Mary Margaret the broadest smile she can manage as she picks up her leather jacket from the back of her chair. She doesn’t need it, not really, but it’s like armor to her. Her friend looks at her carefully, tilting her head to the side for a moment and raising her eyebrow like she’s also trying to puzzle out the difference in Emma’s demeanor. But she just smiles, holding out her hand to take Emma’s as they leave the bus and join Ruby and Mulan outside.

It’s an easy trip to the main stage, with security leading the way and Mulan assisting. It helps that they’re not making a mad dash to the other side of the festival, and that she’s not being yanked in a thousand directions. Twice now, she’s caught herself reaching for a hand that isn’t there, though.

She is surprised to find a bit of a crowd in their backstage section. There’s David with his charming smiles and supportive words, extending beyond the woman he is so clearly enamored with. And Robin and Regina are actually standing less than five inches apart which is closer than she’s ever seen her manager standing to anyone else. There’s a suspicious lack of their third, however, and Emma stifles her disappointment best she can. She wants to ask, even opens her mouth to question David, but they’re being ushered on to the stage and he gives her a shrug and a final call of encouragement.

It’s all come down to this, Emma thinks - the lights are blaring even though it’s a bright and sunny day. She’s glad she left her leather jacket back stage because she’d already be roasting if she had it on. With that in mind, she pulls deeply from the water bottle she brought with her and turns to her bandmates for the start of their show. More than once, she can hear a yell from a fan about the lack of Killian on stage, and she tries to laugh it off.

“Sorry, folks. This is a solo-Emma adventure,” she says, forcing a smile on her face when a sudden wave of loneliness comes over her.

It goes so quickly from that point forward. She takes up her guitar when it’s called for, sits down at the keyboard for one or two songs, and grabs the ukulele she uses for just two of their songs right before they make it to the halfway mark of their set.

They finish the first of those songs to wild applause and cheers, and Emma smiles as she takes the microphone off the stand. It isn’t until she brings it back up to her mouth that she realizes it’s her left hand, her right arm still dangling at her side despite her natural inclinations. She even put back on the stupid wristband that he bought them to stop the cuffs from chafing their skin. She huffs out a chuckle, closing her eyes and smiling while Ruby and Mary Margaret wait for her cue to start the next song.

She looks back to them, seeing Ruby tilt her head to call her over. Emma clips her mic back on the stand and wanders over, away from the amplifying devices. “Mulan told me that a bunch of the fans have been asking about Killian. They’d heard about some kind of publicity thing with handcuffs and were excited to see it in person.”

“Should I --?”

“Yes,” Ruby says, and Mary Margaret echoes from five feet away where she can tell what’s being said. Emma groans with nerves, bouncing on the balls of her feet for a second before going back to her place.

“I seem to have exorcised my demon too soon,” Emma says thickly into her microphone. “Turns out he may have grown on me a little. So Killian, this next song is for you.”

This wasn’t the next song on their set - not one she’s ever played in public. They mostly stick to their own original works, but sometimes she finds the best way to express herself is using someone else’s music and lyrics instead. The chords and words of “Tonight You Belong to Me” are ones she knows by heart, and it echoes their early morning trip back from the bathrooms where he hummed along right with her. Ruby and Mary Margaret both hang back, instead letting her solo with the ukulele.

When the final note rings out, the crowd cheers, the frenzied yells making her freely laugh. She glances to the side of the stage and sees both David and Robin frantically trying to text. Mulan is recording the whole thing, as she’s sure a lot of the audience members are. It’s not every day fairytales come true, apparently. Now to just hope it works.

It all gives her courage to chant the syllables of his name so they’ll all catch on. If his band members can’t get a hold of him, maybe the entire main stage can. Mary Margaret and Ruby follow suit, wide smiles on their faces as their voices join in over the sound system. She has no idea if he’s even going to hear her, hear them, but she has to try. For once in her life, she wants things to work out.

It’s astonishing to hear all these people chanting his name, and Emma can’t fight the smile that’s breaking out as she keeps it up. Not knowing if he can hear her, or if he’s on his way, or what his progress is if he is on his way, she takes a bit of a chance.

“Killian, if you can hear us, I want that second duet, after all.”

It’s like a tidal wave when it happens: the cheers start in the back - the very, very back - and she watches as the wide crowd parts little by little and the cheers get louder and closer. If she tries, she can see the figure that’s moving them, his hand shooting up once when he’s halfway back to show the matching wrist band. She watches with ever-growing fascination as he moves through the audience. As the ripples of awareness travel upwards, they move easier and suddenly he’s sprinting towards them, a look of pure determination on his face.

It takes some help from the security at the front, but then he’s there in front of her, breathless but smiling, his left hand reaching for her right to link their fingers together.

“So you missed me then, love?”

“Shut up and sing with me,” she says, smiling as he inches a little closer.

“May I kiss you hello first?”

To this, she doesn’t respond. She reaches for his t-shirt and pulls him closer, leaning up on her toes to kiss him and then laughing through it when the whole crowd goes wild behind him. “Now can we sing?” she asks.

“Aye, love. What’s your choice?”

“You know ‘Always By Your Side’?”

He flushes in clear answer to her question, and Emma smiles. It’s the first single that made it onto the radio, and even more fitting now given where they began the day.

“Good. Also? You wouldn’t have held me back, just so you know,” she says away from the microphone. There’s more to be said - this isn’t where their conversation is even close to ending - but he ducks his head in a surprisingly bashful nod. They’ll have time to discuss it all later when they’re not ticking down their stage time.

The videos of their duet on the main stage end up going viral. There are pictures everywhere of them singing, eyes locked together, matching smiles on their faces. He posts a shot of their joined hands on Instagram later that he simply captions “Best festival ever” underneath, with an emoji of chains afterwards.

The next year, when they’re both invited back, they’re booked back to back on the mainstage with one act melding into the other as they sing together to close out one set and open the next. The year after that, he posts the same picture of their hands linked together, but Emma’s left hand is clasped over top of their joined ones, the ring just catching the sparkle of the dim light of their festival lodgings. His caption this time reads “Amendment: THIS was the best festival ever.”

And really? She can’t disagree with him on that one bit.

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #holy fuck it's done #after almost three fucking years

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