#Father Quart

[riepu10]

Father Quart 32/x The Man From Rome (2022)

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Richard as Father Quart in The Man From Rome.

[mezzmerizedbyrichard]

Plus bonus close up...........

Father Quart ~ The Man From Rome

(definitely not seeing him as a priest in this scene lol)

[guylty]

2023 Armitage Weekly Round-up #19

First off, for those of you not on Twitter, Richard posted some sad news yesterday. John Turner Armitage 1936-2023 We’ll miss you dad but you’re with mum now. Thank you to everyone at @LOROSHospice although he was with you very briefly we’ll always be grateful for your care. 🙏 pic.twitter.com/pLmfexWmHl— Richard Armitage (@RCArmitage) July 14, 2023 This came very unexpected. I remember one of…

[astrovian]

Digital painting of Richard Armitage as Padre Quart in The Man From Rome (2022)

Available on Redbubble here

[linasofia]

😍🔥🔥🔥😈 @lathalea I…. 🤭

@legolasbadass look

Richard Armitage as Father Quart in The Man from Rome (2022) dir. Sergio Dow

[riepu10]

Father Quart 31/x The Man From Rome (2022)

[richardarmitagefanpage]

Richard as Father Quart in The Man From Rome.

[absentmindeduniverse]

New Year's Kiss.

Masterlist of this series

Comments/Notes/Housekeeping: Thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented on my last of the RA Character Headcanon Series. I appreciate it very much. I know I sound like a broken record, but please do consider a reblog if you like a post, and if you wish to be added on to my tag lists, please let me know. You are also very welcome to request head canons as well, so I can continue on with this series and open it up to a lot more scenarios.

This head canon post was requested by @sweetestgbye Thank you very much, hun. You're very welcome to request head canons with these 9 characters. Just send the request via my ask box, please. This instalment will focus on how all the characters handle a New Year kiss more precisely, a kiss which involves you, the reader. Enjoy!

GUY OF GISBORNE: Guy takes you to a secluded area, wanting to get you out of the way of everyone. He takes your hand and begins talking about new beginnings and asks if you'll begin a new adventure with him. Then the two of you kiss beneath the stars.

RAY LEVINE: Ray is nervous as hell around you. He's liked you for as long as he's known you. The two of you are at his flat, watching the countdown on TV, and as it happens and the party-goers on the screen start screaming "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" you think to yourself, "Fuck it" and pull Ray in for a kiss.

FATHER LORENZO QUART: New Year means very little to Father Quart. It's just another day of the week for him, but he knows you love celebrating the change of the year. He breaks open a bottle of champagne and just as the clock strikes midnight, you clink your glasses together and lean in for a kiss.

THORIN OAKENSHIELD: The Dwarves know how to party and as midnight begins to roll around quickly, you and Thorin notice that there are fewer Dwarves still standing, and even less sober. But when the moment arrives, you realise how Dis and Dwalin have purposefully moved you both closer together, manoeuvring you across the hall, until you cannot escape that New Year kiss. Thorin knows the tradition and with flushed cheeks, he offers you a sign of his intention to court you.

FRANCIS DOLARHYDE: Francis spends the evening with you as he lives alone. You've invited him to your apartment to see in the New Year and, as you stand in your garden and the fireworks begin to soar into the sky and burst open in an array of colours, you place a gentle kiss on Francis' lips.

JOHN THORNTON: The two of you are at a large gathering of people whom your families know, as friends and business partners. It's getting closer to midnight and John knows he wishes to kiss you, just not in front of all these people. At a minute before midnight, he checks his pocket watch and asks you to accompany him to his balcony, and there as the local clock strikes midnight, he offers you a kiss.

RAYMOND DE MERVILLE: Raymond has no interest in the changing of the years and seasons. But when the two of you are at his father's annual feast, which welcomes in the change of the year, you go to him and kiss him with no warning. He scowls at you at first, wanting to know what the kiss was for. But as you smile at him, he can't help but reciprocate that smile.

JOHN PORTER: John has had enough of partying in his younger years and wants to spend a quiet night in front of the TV. So he invites you over, his colleague. You're excited for the night ahead; the two of you have fancied each other for months. And as Big Ben chimes 12 on the TV, John sees his chance and sweeps you into a kiss.

LUCAS NORTH: The two of you go for a drink after work together. Lucas has been invited to a work party with some of his colleagues who aren't on call, but he's made an excuse, just so he can be with you instead. The two of you are close friends, and after your drink, the two of you walk together, not realising the time. Fireworks begin to bang in the distance. Lucas stops. You stop. He smiles, and then cups your cheek, drawing you into a kiss.

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @meganlpie @linasofia @knittastically @luna-xial @asgardianhobbit98 @guardianofrivendell @sunflwrnsunnieshine @msjava1972 @rachel1959 @eunoiaastralwings @lemond57 @tschrist1 @quiall321 @evenstaredits @missihart23

Guy of Gisborne tag list: @puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig @whoooooisthis

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @braidedheart

[mezzmerizedbyrichard]

Yummy priest in sunnies 😍

[limblesstar]

odysseus the line cook au

odysseus is a line cook, 40 years old, hasnt gotten a promotion in the decade hes worked there

coworker is diomedes, fresh(ish) out of culinary school, head chef , 27

odysseus is not very fond of this fact

its a fine dining restaurant, they do not act like it is.

boss is circe who cannot stand any of them,

their manager is hermes, he is chill with everything going on, doesnt really care as long as the kitchen is clean and they get dishes out. too busy smoking weed. could of had his own restaurant but didnt want the responsibility

married to penelope whos a professor in textile materials and technology, busy teaching and grading papers usually.

odysseus and diomedes have a very weird hot work situationship, his wife is very okay with it. odysseus is in love with him

theyre just bros, its not gay to fuck in the walk in freezer

what they do depends on the day and how much they can get away with.

penelope actually wants diomedes to move in so he 1. pays bills 2. she can pawn telemachus onto him 3. wants to know whats up

odysseus chain smokes on his break. he desperately wants to quit because his wife thinks its kind of gross and second hand smoke but he just cant kick the habit

lives in an apartment complex, absolute girlfailure.

poor relationship with father, could of been the greatest nepo baby but dropped out of his degree in commerce to go to culinary school

THIEF AND A LIAR

house is filled with equipment from his work, biggest thing hes stolen is a stand mixer that he convinced circe he threw out because it was broken. everything in his fridge is stored in a stolen quart container

doesnt steal any produce because he thinks its poor quality

ACTIVELY HATES CUSTOMERS

if diomedes wasn't there odysseus would be spitting in peoples food (he does it if the customers piss him off enough and if diomedes isnt looking)

maternal family has mob connections that he doesnt use (he can do it on his own)

on his off day he likes to bbq on his balcony to the displeasure of all his neighbours. hangs out with his son too

[linasofia]

Coming Home

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x Female reader

Summary: After a long time apart, you return home and are reunited with the man who has stolen your heart.

Words: 2,5 K

Warnings: 18+ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you.

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous fics about FQ, but it can also be read as a standalone. You can find all my FQ fics in my masterlist.

Sometimes a month can pass in the blink of an eye, but when you are separated from someone your heart belongs to, a month can feel like it has no ending. And the last part of a journey is always the hardest, so close, but still not in the arms of your beloved.

As the plane glides through the thin clouds, I grip the seat’s handle impatiently. The captain has announced that we are landing shortly, but this feels like the longest flight known to humankind. I try not to look at my watch again and instead I visualize what awaits at the end of my trip and who I will meet very soon; Lorenzo. Just thinking of him makes my heart flutter and when I close my eyes, I can clearly see him before me. His tall and muscular frame, his dark hair, painted with a shimmer of silver at his temples, and his beautiful azure eyes. His prominent nose which he buries in my hair before he falls asleep. And his alluring lips that complement his expressive eyes in every shift of his mood. Lips I long to kiss and be kissed by. Everything about him feels like a blessing, and I shiver with delight when I allow myself to dream of his embrace. The way he smells when he holds me close, how his hands usually find their way under my clothes to caress my skin, and the closeness he always seems to yearn for, exposed during the early mornings when he sleeps close to me, often with an arm draped around me, as if he is afraid I will disappear into the dark shadows of the night.

When I am finally back in the familiar quarters in the city center my heart beats hard like a drum. Lorenzo texted me close to boarding and asked me to join him at home as soon as I was back in town. I have no intention of delaying our meeting so that is why I now hurriedly walk down the stairs with my phone in a tight grip. First I hear only signals but right before the call goes to voicemail, he suddenly answers, sounding a little out of breath. My name always sounds like an endearment when spoken by him and today is no exception. He demands my exact location and his eagerness warms me more than the sun, which has begun its evening journey and soon will disappear behind the old roofs.

”I see you!” His voice is filled with so much joy that my heart takes a leap in my chest and is ready to burst. I smile at his warm greeting, lift my gaze to his balcony and the sight almost has me tumbling down the stairs. On the slim balcony stands Lorenzo, in what I can only assume is his trousers, but with his upper body gloriously naked. Even from a distance I can see his gorgeous well-built shape and I cannot help wondering how many of the tourists and admirers of the stairs and the beautiful fountain will spot him in the sunlight. They would probably be shocked if they knew that the handsome half-naked man is the same man who has the authority to absolve them from their sins.

”I can see you, too. The whole piazza can!”

”They are not here for me sweetheart, besides, I do not care.”

I giggle while I cross the piazza and open the heavy door to the building where he lives. The usual scent of freshly baked bread hangs in the air, and I rush up the stairs to avoid the old lady on the first floor. Lorenzo has told me that she is kind and warm-hearted, but a bit nosy, and I do not want to run into her and be forced to come up with an excuse for my presence in the building.

A discreet click from the lock is heard as soon as I put my feet on the top floor and, if possible, it makes my heart beat even faster. He seems to be just as impatient as me and it feels overwhelmingly good. I quickly glance around and then open the door. Before I even get a chance to put my things down, I am being pulled into a kiss. With both hands, he cups my face and I let the bag slide off my shoulder so I can wrap my arms around him. His skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat and his hair is damp. The muscles on his arms and torso are tense, and when I let my hands travel over his back, I feel his strength under my fingertips. He breaks the kiss when my hands land on his well-sculpted buttocks, hiding under his black sweatpants. Then he releases me from his tight embrace with an apologetic look in his eyes.

”I am sorry, I was not expecting you so soon. I was just done with my workout and thought I had time to shower.”

”I do not mind your sweat. But I have been on a plane for over six hours and I would love to take a shower. Preferably with you.” I blink at him and a grin spreads on his face before he pulls me close again.

”Or I can make love to you right here in the hallway, quick and dirty.” His voice drops to a murmur when he grabs me and lifts me up. ”Do you really expect me to wait until you are pure and clean?”

”Says the man who spent most of his adult life in celibacy,” I tease him but when something dark shifts in his eyes, I bite my lower lip. I know that look on his face and I gasp as his fingers dig into my flesh.

”I must make up for lost time,” he murmurs huskily and carries me into his large bathroom.

Lorenzo’s newly renovated bathroom is a raw industrial dream with small elements from nature softening the hard concrete design. It never stops to amaze me how interested he is in technology and interior design. I have lost count on how many times my assumptions about him have been wrong. Lorenzo is not like any other priests I have met. Or maybe it is just the fact that I get to see the remarkable person behind the clergy collar. And sleep with him.

My feet land on the thick, luxurious white bathroom carpet and without even blinking he roughly pulls my sweater over my head. His swift fingers release me from my bra and then he eagerly moves his attention to my trousers. When they join my other clothes on the floor he watches my naked body with growing hunger. But instead of pulling me close again, he opens the shower doors and turns on the water. It streams down and soon the heat from the water creates mist on the clear glass.

I nod at his sweatpants and with a smirk he puts his thumbs under the waistband and pulls them down. His boxers follow and when Lorenzo straightens his back, a very promising erection stares back at me. I give him a smile but do not move. He steps into the shower and holds out a hand for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me inside and wraps his arms around my waist. The water instantly drowns my hair and when I let my head fall back to get it out of my face, he takes advantage of my neck. With a low groan he starts to assault my skin in the most delightful way. Tender kisses, nibbling at my skin and the feeling of his raspy stubble against my neck tease my already aching body and with an encouraging moan I urge him to keep exploring my skin.

The smell of my favorite shower gel fills the shower and I briefly think of the first time he bought it for me. A small gesture, but it represented a big step in our relationship. He wanted to have something that belonged to me, in his home, and the small token of commitment almost made me cry back then.

”Turn around,” His voice is lower now and without the slightest hesitation I do as he wants. He rubs his hands together and creates a soft foam and then gently starts washing my upper body. His large hands work their way over my shoulders and down my back in small circles. I let out a pleased sigh as he reaches my lower back and starts giving my tired muscles a massage. Grateful for his treatment I place my hands on the tiles and arch my back. He groans when my bum brushes against his hardness and his pressure on my lower back increases, forcing me to arch under his touch even more. I moan as he moves his hands even lower, but suddenly he reaches for the shower gel again and pours what seems like a lot of it right over the roundness of my buttocks. It feels cold against my warm skin, but Lorenzo soon works his magic and lets his hands glide over my body, spreading the freshly smelling foam everywhere he can reach; kneading the softness of my hips and thighs, caressing my stomach and fondling my breasts. Every time I try to reach for him, he stops and reprimands me in that husky voice that never fails to arouse me beyond the line of sanity, and his next words only fuel my desire to touch him. ���Hands on the wall.”

Lorenzo sneaks one arm around me and pulls me against his firm chest so he can hold me upright. The water is pouring down like a waterfall from the showerhead in the ceiling, washing all the foam away and leaving only the lovely scent of lilac on my skin. His other hand finds its way to my breasts and when he lovingly cups them, one by one, as if they were treasures to worship, I let out a pleased sigh. But I need more and as if he can read my mind, he soon abandons the small, hard peaks he woke with his thumb and index finger. Agonizingly slowly, he lets his hand travel down my belly, and then moves to concentrate on circling the area which is my body’s epicentrum. I moan his name, a needy sound that makes him groan against my skin.

“Have you missed me that much?”

I want to reply with something cocky, but when he gently sinks his teeth into my shoulder, my words turn into a whimper. He knows so well that his harsh move never fails to get me dizzy with lust, and I grip his arm for support, leaning heavier against his body. Lorenzo is just as skilled with his long fingers as he is with his mouth, and when my core tightens to prepare me for the stream of pleasure that will soon flood my body, he stimulates all my senses at once.

”That’s my good girl. Let me hear what I do to you.” The dark melody of his voice is like music to my ears, and it sets every fiber in my longing body on fire. ”I feel how close you are, come for me.”

With only the tip of his fingers he pushes me down into the pond of seduction and I fall helplessly apart by his hand. The way he purrs my name with his lips pressed to my ear is overwhelmingly erotic and I lose myself in the sensation.

Before I get a chance to catch my breath, Lorenzo spins me around. He seizes my knee, lifts it up and a little to the side, giving him enough space to step close to me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and tremble as I feel his smooth shaft press against my heat. With an alluring dark smile he uses his other hand to adjust himself and then, with a single hard thrust, he enters me.

I have waited what feels like ages, even if I know I have only been gone a month, to be intimate with him again. With all of his massive length buried deep inside me, I gasp and briefly close my eyes. The blessing that is the man’s girth never seems to stop taking my body by surprise and stretched over his shaft, I let out a throaty moan. Lorenzo presses himself against me, fully aware of how much it triggers my lust. I could never have imagined that a man who has spent so many years without the satisfaction of another body could be such a fantastic lover. He has a unique ability to read my body and he enjoys playing with all my senses in a way I never thought possible. The way he speaks, moans, and grunts fuels every part of my receptive body, and together with the rhythmic moves of his hips and sensual touches, he sets even my soul on fire.

The water pours down over us and the mist visually softens his hard shape. His hair is wet but his eyes are burning with desire when I meet his gaze. I can feel his hand gripping my leg tighter and I let him find the pace we both know will lead us towards our releases. Time ceases to exist and all our troubles are being washed away by the blinding heat building rapidly between our bodies. It is just him and me, lost in the endless sea of pure pleasure. I can feel he is holding back, waiting for me to reach the point where he can push me down the slope of satisfaction. When I finally do, he catches me and holds me while my body shivers uncontrollably and my climax starts to tear me apart. I feel him reaching his peak together with me, and with a sinfuI cry, I shatter around him as he gives me everything he has.

We pant as one when our bodies finally relax against each other, but there are no words to explain the intense moment between us. Lorenzo places both of his hands on the wall behind me and leans in to rest his forehead against mine. My heart swells when my gaze meets his. His voice is nothing more than an affectionate whisper when he eventually speaks.

”I am so glad you are back again. This month was as long as an eternity.”

I nod and wrap my arms around his waist. It was a struggle. But now everything is as it should be. Almost.

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[antimonyandthyme]

carcar the last of us au snippet

warnings: past character death, descriptions of the infected, descriptions of use of weapons and violence

What Carlos wants to say, in a way fashioned entirely after his father: That grave is about as deep as it needs to be. No one has the luxury to mourn. Stop fucking around and move on or die standing still.

What he actually says: “Do you need help?”

“No,” Oscar says, curt. “I should be the one to lay him to rest.”

“Okay,” Carlos says.

Maybe it’ll help Oscar, and Carlos shouldn’t begrudge him that. Help him avoid the scenario in which every infected thereafter shared facial characteristics with Charles. Max. A pretty mouth, a strong jaw. It’s his fault, after all. Carlos should have taken the time to bury all of that under the dirt. But all he could do was run.

There’s an almost relaxing rhythmic sound to the ground being hacked up, and a different kind of tanginess to the smell of fresh earth that lets him forget about blood for a moment.

He could be kind, sit at the foot of the grave and listen to Oscar talk about Logan. Why he thought coming back to where they grew up was a good idea. All these good ideas crumbling to dust, at every town they've witnessed that has eaten itself from the inside out.

Carlos closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to do with another faceless loss, can’t add another number to his collection.

And anyway, Oscar's seen his fair share. He’s too good with the shovel for this to be his first.

Carlos clears his throat, when Oscar's finally done placing some leafy branch at the head of the grave. Flowers. On a grave. That’s some doe-eyed rose-tinted bullshit. There’s a strangled bird, caged somewhere to the left of Carlos’ chest. He doesn’t allow that bird any food or warmth or hope, for fear of softness. Can’t be soft if you want to survive.  

“We should move,” he says.

“We?” Oscar reels his head up. The loss carving its way down his cheeks haven’t fully dried, but he looks hopeful, almost like a lost dog. With how Carlos acts, he probably hadn't expected an offer like this. It should've been cut and dry. Getting you to your city, in exchange for a car battery.

“It’s a simple question,” Carlos says. “Are you coming?”

If he wasn’t already fucked all ways to Sunday, making his way along this forsaken earth with two rounds of ammunition and less than a quart tank of gas left, he’s definitely fucked now, adding a bleeding heart to their journey. But Carlos imagines Charles’ face if he were to leave a kid behind and—damn him for that. For being a ghost and still demanding good of him.

“Yes,” Oscar says.

Arguments and energy spent on arguments should be saved for the important things. Carlos throws what’s left of their shit into the back of the trunk, and wordlessly, gets into the driver’s seat.

--

“I’m just saying.” Oscar’s insistent. He’s spent the first half an hour of the journey staring vacantly out the window, but apparently, country music’s where he draws the line. “If for some reason this car caught on fire—”

“Don’t you even dare,” Carlos says. The thought of losing the Sienna makes him want to shrivel up and die. With luck, they managed to jack a vehicle with a working CD player. Tunes are a necessity in what is essentially a never-ending road trip. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“If it did,” Oscar says, “and I only had time to save one album—”

“Zach Bryan,” Carlos says.

“No,” Oscar says flatly.

“Dios mio. I should have left you back there.”

“You nearly did,” Oscar points out, but it doesn’t sound accusing. At Carlos’ furtive glance, he shrugs. “No hard feelings. I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that, gets his back all up. Ten and two on the wheel, lest he reaches for Oscar’s shirt to shake him until his teeth rattle. “What am I doing?”

“Self-defense,” Oscar says.

“I really should have left you.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” Seemingly chastised, Oscar digs his teeth into his lower lip. Charles used to do that too, before he acquired the ability to unhinge his jaw and take larger bites. “You look out for your own, right?”

Carlos wonders if Oscar can see his trauma for what it is. The way Carlos has been tuned toward Oscar in the passenger seat, as if an infected would crash through the windscreen at any second. The way he’d swerve right, driver’s seat to the road, without a second thought, if it meant his neck would be exposed instead of Oscar’s.

He’s got nothing to offer but his own body.

“I’m doing such a great job of it.”

“Mate,” Oscar says warily. If he could hedgehog his way any further into the car’s upholstery, he would be so far back he’d be invisible by now. Zach croons in the staticky background, There ain’t no world in which I am good for you. Ain’t no world, now or ever. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t.”

“No, really,” Carlos says, a little hysterically, “I’m doing such a great job—”

--

There were things in the world that should not have applied to Charles. Spend upwards of two months to four years with him and you’d start to imagine that his fingernails never got dirty, or that his smile never got ugly, or that his face never got bloodied.

But he turned like everyone else.

His skin bleached itself until every single vein was visible, and his eyes lost all recognition. He could still speak, for the first bit. Said their names in what was almost a parody. Cahlos. Cahhhlos.

“We have to,” Max couldn’t finish his sentence, though he kept trying. “We have to—”

Charles lunged for them like a rabid animal. They cringed, but the tire chains wound around Charles hold fast, and he shrunk back. Before lunging again, and again. If Carlos were a better man, he’d put Charles out of his misery. Too bad he was a big fucking coward.

“Don’t,” Carlos hissed, absolutely feral, when Max squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “Don’t touch him.”

Max’s chest rose and fall in rapid succession. His eyes were glassy and hollow. Max, who Carlos had never seen shed a tear once, who they all joked would survive them all. He looked a gentle tap away from breaking. “This isn’t about our stupid feelings, it’s about what Charles would have wanted.”

“Fuck you,” Carlos said, to nobody in particular. To maybe himself. Charles was his responsibility when they went on the raid for food, and Charles was still his responsibility now. Till the end. He’d shown Carlos the bite on his calf, almost guiltily, and remained docile and quiet when Carlos wrapped him in chains, while Carlos breathed through what was most definitely a panic attack.

Easy, Carlos. You’ve got to care of Max now. Easy, come on, breathe Carlos. It doesn’t hurt much, not now anyway. Just. Do me a favour. Make it quick, alright?

Cahhhhlos.

“I’ll take care of it,” Carlos said, because all of this was his fault. In the chaos at the grocery store, he got separated from Charles for a harrowing two and half minutes. That was all it took. “Just. Just give me a moment. Just give me a second, alright?”

Charles snarled, snapping his teeth against the metal biting into his skin. This couldn’t be how Carlos remembered him.

“I’ll do it in the morning,”Carlos promised. I’ll do it after sunrise, so he gets to see it one last time.

In the morning, this is what he found:

Charles, chest cavity open, lying still like he was peacefully asleep.

And Max, bleeding out from a bite wound in his forearm, the gun used to lay Charles to rest tucked at his feet. His skin was paper white, but his eyes were still bright.

“I fucked up,” Max said. It was the way he said it. Completely accepting and calm. It made Carlos drop to his knees and hack out the nothing he had left in his stomach. Bile burned his throat raw. “I thought I could do it, so you wouldn’t have to. Sorry.”

Carlos trembled, pushed his forehead into the ground. The entire world was bearing down on him like a magnifying glass on an ant. He didn’t want to look up. If he didn’t look up, then this didn’t have to be real.

“Carlos,” Max said, more gently than Carlos had ever heard him. By some magnetic, supernatural force, it lifted Carlos’ head from the dirt. Max had enough in him to kick the gun over to Carlos, and life in him yet for the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “You can do it.”

Carlos shook his head mutely.

The expression on Max’s face morphed into something unfamiliar. Pleading. It would carry itself into Carlos’ nightmares and every single infected running after him after. “You can. Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

--

“I’m,” Oscar says. He sounds heartbroken for people he doesn’t even know. “I’m sorry about your friends.”

“You didn’t know,” Carlos says. He never should have said anything. Maybe it’s the kid, snapping, I should be the one to do it. Mirrors are a relic of the past, but Carlos looks at Oscar and sees the same jagged stubbornness lining all his edges. “I’m sorry about Logan.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence.

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter 7

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

A/N: I'm sorry it took me LITERAL half a year before squeezing(?) out a new chapter😬😅 thank you all for loving WC!Ari and Reader, and last but not least, a huge thanks to @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory who is betaing for this fic ;)

Your father had been surprisingly kind after the incident. Granting you limited but nevertheless, freedom outside. And your phone. You got your phone back, which is good news. Great, even.

Only that you did not have anyone to call.

Not that you had any chance of making friends while you were in Ancetol – your father made sure of that - nor in a foreign land where you could not risk sharing your true identity with people you know.

So many numbers. So many contacts. Stored in your phone.

With no one to call and no one to confide in without them blurting to their tabloids or their friends. Their real friends.

Your finger hovered above one particular name on the phone screen. One particular contact.

Your finger tapped on it.

It was ten pm.

Who sleeps at ten pm?

“Hello?” A sleepy groggy voice greeted you through the speaker.

You could've come on the spot if he talked to you like that again.

“Old age creeping up on ya’? It’s ten pm and I didn’t think you’d be sleeping.”

Ari, on the other hand, sighed heavily. Pushing himself up from the bed and massaging his eyes with the heel of his palm, “Could we talk during a more humanly hour, Your Highness?”

“Eh-no.”

“Christ.” He grumbled, “What do you need, then?”

If he was being honest, Ari was very much disturbed at this time of night, very grumpy, and very agitated. No one could keep his emotions under check when being woken up out of the blue, no even he was the soon-to-be King of this bloody country.

Aside from the shallow breathing, the other end of this call had just become very quiet.

“I’m sorry.” After a small while of silence, you apologized quietly, “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. I will talk to you in the morning.”

“You should.” Grunted Ari in an almost sarcastic way.

He felt bad for snapping at you, but also for him not behaving properly. It was … uncommon for him to act this way. More often than not, he was able to control himself, no matter the circumstance.

But the silence. The silence from your side. That was what had been bothering him. The silence felt weak. It felt unnatural. It did not feel like the usual you. Being oblivious to the world and the people in it. You were kind, sure, but a glimpse of indifference he had spotted from you during your earlier coffee date whispered otherwise. You were unattached, to your home, your family, and the world. And this silence, whatever human emotion was behind it, demonstrated a different you.

A true you, it seemed. Because according to his observation, you shouldn’t care. About the disturbance. About waking him up.

“Sorry.” He said, as softly as he could with his hoarse throat, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. No, you’re right. I should call you in the morning.” You apologized again, carefully.

Was it the night that rendered you defenseless? Or was that he, out of the most impossible scenarios, gained a spectrum of respect and entered your “inner circle”?

He shivered at the thought. He couldn’t imagine himself as the glamorous quarterback from the American high schools. This contract you had was strictly professional. No feelings were involved. Not now, not ever.

…but there sure would be a ton of feelings if you ever found out that he was the “wimp douche” you were talking about.

“Good night, Guy.”

“Wait!”

His brain responded before he was able to comprehend what he was doing.

“…Guy?” Your voice layered with a thin veil of uncertainty, asking softly.

“I’m …” He made up an excuse, poorly, “awake, anyway. We can … talk, if you want.”

No, he was not. Not fully awakened.

“I don’t know what to say.” You admitted rather bluntly, whispering another sorry.

He rattled his brain for topics, “Something that couples talk about? Like what did you have for dinner? Or if your dad is acting like a dick again?”

His hindsight warned him after a few seconds that your father might be a somewhat sensitive topic for you that he should not have brought up in the first place.

“Sorry.” He murmured, “Your father is … probably not a nice topic.”

You chuckled through the phone, making his heart thump like a teenager.

“But the allergic comment served him well. So, thank you.” He could imagine a small smile on your face as you said so.

“None needed.” Ari found a pair of Bluetooth earbuds on the desk nearby, and put them on his ears, leaving his phone on the bed before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, “Your father still wants you to marry the … prince?” He was about to say “the douche”, but then he realized he was talking about himself.

Your voice less enthusiastic, “The wedding’s going as planned. Got a few errands to run. About to visit a kindergarten and take photos. In three days or so.”

“You don’t like kids?”

The silence was pretty much all the answer he needed.

Ari chugged down some cold water, standing barefoot in his kitchen, and a brilliant idea came to mind. “How ‘bout I take you out?”

“What?”

He imagined your eyes widening and your lips slightly apart out of his abrupt proposal.

“Take you out, as in, on a date. Fake date – real date, your call.” His hand tugged on his locks by the root, as his mind ran full speed to construct this idea, “So you’d have something to think about when you are doing the photo op.”

You chuckled, “Not sure the kids would appreciate it if I lost focus when I’m supposed to be a kind and caring motherly figure – princess.”

“Hey,” He reminded you, “I’m here to help you have fun, right? Besides, what kind of boyfriend am I if I don’t take you out for a date?”

“The fake kind?” You offered.

“Not helping.” He mused. “I’ll call you when I get everything in place. Meanwhile, try not to kill your dad, okay?”

A small while of silence.

His heart grew softer at each fragment of speechless moments you had. Each subtly implying that you were more than what you led others to believe. A tender layer beneath the hard crust. Like a crisp little bun fresh out of the oven.

Was he feeling … sympathy?

“You better hurry because I’m browsing Amazon for cyanide.” You paused briefly, “And kerosene.”

That made him laugh, “Let me rephrase that. Try not to get caught.”

A small smile made its way onto your lips, “Why, you are not planning to bail me out?”

“No, I’m planning our getaway car. Isn’t that what good boyfriends do?”

Your heart skipped a beat, “I have to consult my lawyers before answering that.”

He chuckled. The smooth baritone sounded more comforting than ever before. “I will call you after the getaway car is ready.”

“Good plan, my fake boyfriend.”

“Good night, girlfriend.”

“Good night, Guy.”

You hung up first. But for some reason, you stared at the phone in your hand for a long time, before slipping under the covers and allowing the dreamless sleep to take over.

Ari insisted that it was a surprise. He would not tell you where you were going or what you should prepare for it, only telling you “to dress casually," so you picked a thin dress with floral patterns.

Having picked up at your doorstep, you were half surprised by how fast your father agreed to this “date”, and half curious about where your fake boyfriend would be taking you.

Ari chose a white henley and a pair of khakis, with sunglasses on top of his head, as if you were going on a vacation. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he told you to buckle up before hitting the gas pedal of the Black SUV.

“Beach?”

“Nope.” He popped the “p” at the end.

“Um, mountains.” You took another guess.

“Two strikes, Your Highness.”

“Does it have anything to do with outdoor activities?” And before he could answer, you narrowed your eyes and said, “That’s a question. It doesn’t count as another strike.”

He shook his head and his tone grew lighter and happier, “Not in the slightest.”

“Then why the sunglasses?”

“Because my eyes are terribly sensitive to lights.” He looked pouty? Was this grown man pouting at you? “I have baby-blue eyes, haven’t you noticed?” Ari released a dramatically sad sigh, “You are being the worst girlfriend, not noticing the color of my eyes.”

“Worst fake girlfriend.” You corrected him, clearing your throat as you felt the blood rushing to your face, “Don’t tell me you are getting attached.”

“Attached to what? What attached?” He let out a sharp gasp, too sharp to be true.

“Baby-blue eyes are cute, Guy,” You brushed your hair from your face, turning to look at the streets, hiding the smile on your face, “Playing dumb? Not cute.”

“You like your men smart?”

“I like my -” You put a halt before giving his question a thorough analysis inside your head, “Oh, I like you better when you are not dumb.”

“Is that a compliment?” Ari quirked up his brow. You could not see his eyes under the sunglasses, but you suspected that his eyes were gleaming in triumph as he continued, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“See it for yourself,” Ari smirked, pulling over by the curb.

He opened your side of the door at light speed, taking your hand so you would not stumble while getting out of the car. Surprisingly, he did not let go when you stepped onto the solid ground. He took it for granted to take your hand as you walked to the mall gate.

“Is this …” You eyed him nervously.

“This is.” He confirmed your thoughts.

“A mall.”

“The biggest one in Ancetol.” He helpfully supplied.

You had only seen it a few times from the outside. There was not a lot of free time on your timetable when you were scheduled to be the future queen of the country.

All the people. All the shop assistants. All the phones and cameras.

“This is going to make my father’s life miserable.” And yours too.

“Probably not.”

“Why?” You looked at him skeptically.

He presented an annoying smile, a cunning one. Like cat got the cream. Like the kind of smile which you knew something was up, and he was deliberately keeping this from you.

You hate him. You hate not knowing. You hate being kept in the dark.

He pushed the door open in front of you, and gestured you to step inside.

Apart from the shiny marble pavements and sparkling lights from each floor, which made your eyes hurt just a bit. You were more astonished by what was inside. Or rather, what’s lacking inside.

It was …

“…empty.” You murmured.

Not empty-empty, well, you wouldn’t phrase it like that. It was more like empty, as in, no tourists dwindling along the cosmetic section of the mall, asking the shop assistants which she would recommend; no crying babies and anxious mothers, each making life difficult for another; no … customers.

Staff and assistants were occupied. Taking their positions.

“How did you-”

You turned around to look at him.

“Clear it out?” He shrugged, “A favor from the owner.”

It was really no big deal if the Prince wanted this place all to himself for one day.

“Surprised? Touched? Wanted to thank me?” He removed his sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to the top of his head, “C’mon, I’m waiting.”

He didn’t know why he just had to be cocky. An asshole.

Went matching his playboy profile, yes, but.

He isn’t – wasn’t like this.

The scent of your perfume, something light, tingling, sweet and quiet, softly reached the tip of his nose.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pressing a small kiss to his bearded cheek.

Ari grew envy of his beard all of a sudden.

He should have shaven this morning.

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj

@thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies

@autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat @boo8008

@mrsevans90 @bradfordmyworld @delldenaro @molisighs @otpcutie

@clockworkballerina

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[riepu10]

Father Quart 33/x The Man From Rome (2022)