#and it is PALPABLE how much natalie loves him

[shautie]

bi4bi t4t travnat. you agree

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse; SA; fluff; crash

Masterlist

CHAPTER 9

As Lando prepares for his first race back in the car since the accident, the atmosphere is charged with anticipation and excitement. The British Grand Prix, his home race, adds an extra layer of significance to the occasion. The energy in the air is palpable as the fans, eager to witness their local hero back on the track, fill the grandstands with cheers and banners.

Lando's determination is a beacon, shining brighter than ever. The challenges and uncertainties that followed the accident have only fueled his resilience. The sight of his McLaren gleaming on the grid ignites a fire within him, a renewed sense of purpose that transcends the ordinary pursuit of victory.

The moments before the race are a flurry of activity. The team works meticulously to ensure the car is in optimal condition, every detail scrutinised to maximise performance. Lando, surrounded by the familiar faces of his dedicated crew, shares nods and words of encouragement. The camaraderie is evident as everyone rallies behind their driver, each person in the McLaren garage contributing to the collective aspiration of victory.

“Welcome back, Lando. You gave us quite the scare back in Monaco, but we’re pleased to see you back and smiling. How are you doing?”The interviewer asks.

“I’m feeling great. My body’s healed up nicely. I’m very thankful to everyone who played a part in my recovery, it’s not every day that something like that happens, but everyone did their best and I appreciate that.” Lando comments, his gratitude evident in his voice and smile.

“What’s your headspace like heading into your home race this weekend?” The interviewer continues.

“It’s a positive headspace. I kind of try to forget about the last few weeks, it was beyond anyone’s control, so heading into this week, it’s pretty much back to normal. I love racing on this track, and it’s home, so that helps.” Lando concludes before returning to the McLaren garage.

Upon Lando's return to the garage, a sense of normalcy returns as he seamlessly transitions into the routine of a race weekend. Without missing a beat, he joins Natalie, and together they delve into the intricacies of his race weekend schedule. The professional camaraderie takes precedence, temporarily overshadowing the nuances of their romantic relationship within the confines of the work environment.

In the controlled chaos of the garage, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the focused energy of the McLaren team, Lando and Natalie synchronise their efforts. Their interactions are marked by efficiency, communication, and a shared commitment to the tasks at hand. The dynamics between them shift seamlessly from the personal to the professional, a testament to their ability to compartmentalise and navigate the complexities of their dual roles.

“Lando.” Adam's voice rings out from behind him and Natalie as they sieve through his social media content for the race weekend. “I need to chat with you.”

Lando, sensing the urgency in his father's tone, follows him to his driver's room. As they enter, Adam shuts the door, creating a private space where their conversation can unfold without the prying ears of the bustling garage.

“What's wrong?” Lando immediately asks, sensing the gravity in his father's tone.

“We've finally found him.” Adam informs his son, the weight of the revelation evident in his expression.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Lando questions, his confusion etched across his face. In response, Adam pulls out his phone, showing Lando a photo of a man in a club.

"Is this him?" Lando asks, scrutinising the image on the phone.

The air in the room becomes charged with anticipation as the pieces of an undisclosed puzzle start to fall into place. The photograph holds a significance that raises more questions than answers, setting the stage for a revelation that could potentially reshape the course of their conversation.

“It seems like the barman spiked her soda at the club that night. She had one drink from what I could tell, and he was the one who handed it to her. She kept her drink covered the entire time, so the only time someone had access to spiking it was before she received it.” Adam explains, referencing the night in Shanghai when Natalie was drugged and assaulted.

The room tightens with tension as the implications of Adam's discovery sink in.

“But, why? He doesn't know her, does he?” Lando continues to prod, seeking to understand the motive behind such a malicious act.

“I had a friend of a friend go by the club and speak to him. And, you'll never believe what we found.” Adam explains, swiping to reveal a photo of Lucas, Natalie's ex-boyfriend.

“No way," Lando seethes, his disbelief and anger evident.

The revelation hits close to home, and the betrayal is twofold—first by the barman, and now by someone Natalie once trusted intimately. The shock and frustration emanating from Lando reflect the emotional turmoil of discovering that someone from Natalie's past could be involved in such a reprehensible act.

“He came in the day before, apparently he knew where she would be going, paid the barman a hefty amount to spike her drink. We suspect he has some hidden app on her phone so he can see exactly what she’s doing, when, and with whom. I’ll need to get her phone cleaned. Lando, Lucas was there that night in the club. I also got a different camera angle from the opposite side of the club and it clearly shows him watching her, approaching her, and then dancing up behind her. She spins around and immediately hurries away, likely to the bathroom where she called you from. There weren’t any cameras there for us to see if he followed her again, but he just disappeared.” Adam details.

The revelation unfolds with a chilling precision, exposing the orchestrated cruelty behind Natalie's assault. The calculated actions of Lucas, manipulating the situation and exploiting intimate knowledge of Natalie's whereabouts, paint a disturbing picture of betrayal and malice.

“He's insane. He's literally insane. He claimed to love her. Who does that to someone they supposedly love?” Lando argues, his anger palpable, a storm brewing within him that his father has never witnessed before.

“Son, it gets worse.” Adam adds gravely. “He has a paddock pass this weekend.”

“No fucking way.” Lando grunts, the shock and disbelief evident in his voice.

The sanctuary of the racing world, meant for competition, suddenly feels tainted by the presence of an ominous figure from Natalie's past.

“We'll do what we can to protect her, but she's bound to run into him at some point.” Adam replies, acknowledging the imminent threat that hovers over Natalie's safety.

“Please, Dad, don't tell her. I don't want her stressing about this, with everything the last few weeks, she's had enough to deal with as is.” Lando urges his father, his concern for Natalie's well-being overriding any desire for immediate confrontation.

“Of course.” Adam agrees. “But, we'll have to think of a way to keep her safe. If he can drug her that easily, who knows what he can do here. She's by herself most of the time.”

“I'll think of something.” Lando mumbles before a knock on the door interrupts them, signalling an intrusion into the private space where they grapple with the unsettling reality that has unfolded.

The impending challenge of ensuring Natalie's safety in the paddock adds a layer of complexity to an already emotionally charged race weekend.

"Sorry, I hate to bother. Lando, we need to finalise your content, please," Natalie sheepishly explains her intrusion as she pops her head into the room.

The transition from the weighty conversation to the demands of the race weekend is abrupt, but Natalie's professional demeanour glosses over any traces of the private matters being discussed behind closed doors. The racing world, with its relentless pace, demands a swift return to the immediate tasks at hand, and Natalie, aware of the intricacies involved, seamlessly switches gears. Lando, while grappling with the recent revelations, acknowledges the necessity to refocus on the upcoming race.

“Of course, let me be out of your hair.” Adam quickly excuses himself, sensing the need for privacy between Lando and Natalie.

“Everything OK?” She asks Lando, her concern evident in her gaze.

“Yeah, all good.” Lando lies, attempting to shield her from the weight of the recent revelations. However, the internal conflict is palpable, and he hesitates before admitting, “Actually, no.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, her confusion deepening as she senses a shift in the atmosphere of the room. The veneer of normalcy cracks, revealing a layer of unspoken tension that lingers between them. Natalie, attuned to Lando's emotions, waits for him to unravel the truth.

“I may or may not have tracked down the guy who drugged and assaulted you in China, with my Dad’s help, of course.” Lando admits.

“You did what?” Natalie exclaims, her surprise and shock evident. “Why would you do that?”

“I needed to know who it was, Nattie. He could have really hurt you.” Lando explains, his concern for Natalie evident in his words.

“So, who is he?” Natalie quickly asks, seeking an answer. The urgency in her voice reflects the immediate need to understand the identity of the person responsible for the traumatic incident in Shanghai.

“I don’t have a name.” He lies. “I just know that he’s been spotted in the UK in the last few days.”

“This is actually crazy right now.” She breathes, her heart racing.

The revelation adds another layer of complexity to the situation, leaving Natalie in a state of uncertainty and unease. The lack of a definitive name amplifies the mystery surrounding the person who orchestrated the assault, and the proximity of the threat raises the stakes for both of them.

“Please, Nattie, I’m asking you nicely, please do not do anything by yourself this weekend, even in the paddock.” Lando begs her.

“You don’t think he’ll be in the paddock.” She shakes her head in denial.

“I don’t know, but I cannot risk you getting hurt.” Lando tells her as he pulls her closer to him. “Please promise me you’ll have someone from the team with you at all times, just for this weekend while we figure out what to do about him.”

“Why did you do this?” She quips, her brain digesting the fact that he had purposely sought her assailant.

“I can’t let someone get away with hurting you.” He half explains.

“Yeah, sure, but that’s a lot of effort.” She shyly responds.

“I told you I can’t lose you. Hand-in-hand with that goes a promise to protect you, to the best of my ability. Let me do that. Let me protect you and keep you safe.” He finally admits. “No matter the amount of effort, or the time, or the distance - I will do what I can to keep you safe.”

The vulnerability in Lando's plea cuts through the complex emotions of the moment. The admission of his commitment to her safety, despite the challenges and uncertainties, unveils a depth of care that transcends the boundaries of their public personas. In this intimate moment, their connection strengthens, grounded in a shared understanding of the need for protection and support.

The weight of his words hangs in the air, a testament to the sincerity and depth of Lando's feelings. The realisation that he went to such lengths, confronting a potentially dangerous individual, solely to ensure her safety, leaves Natalie with a mix of emotions—gratitude, awe, and a growing awareness of the depth of their connection.

In the midst of the chaos surrounding them, Lando's unwavering commitment to her well-being becomes a beacon of support. The paddock, usually filled with the noise of race preparations, momentarily fades into the background as the significance of their shared moment takes centre stage.

“I feel like I should write that down.” He jokes.

“Why, so I can read it when I don’t believe you?” Natalie jokes back.

“No, so I can use it in my vows one day.” He responds, causing her to smack his arm.

The banter lightens the atmosphere, injecting a moment of humour into the seriousness of their conversation

“Please, just have someone with you this weekend, especially when I’m not by your side.” He reiterates.

“I promise.” She finally agrees as she hugs him tightly.

In the midst of the racing world's intensity, their love story unfolds, marked by the unconventional backdrop of pit stops, podiums, and paddocks. Lando, with his passion for speed and the vibrant papaya colours associated with McLaren, becomes the unexpected protagonist in the romance she never saw coming. His gestures of care, protection, and understanding create a narrative that transcends the confines of a typical love story.

As the engines roar on the racetrack, so too does the beating of her heart for the man who not only races with fervour but also loves with a depth that surpasses the confines of the fast-paced world they inhabit.

- LATER THAT DAY DURING THE RACE -

A missed call from her mom causes panic to hit Natalie in the middle of the race. She knows her mom wouldn't call her at work unless it was an absolute emergency. She rushes out of the garage, leaving behind the sounds of roaring engines and the intensity of the race. The paddock, filled with people moving up and down past the garages, becomes a maze of anxious anticipation as she presses the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Mamma. You were looking for me?” Natalie speaks into her phone, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“Sorry, my love, it was an accident. I wanted to message you and ended up calling you instead.” Her mom sweetly explains.

“That’s OK. I just thought-” Her sentence is cut short when she spots a familiar face further down the paddock.

“Honey, are you there?” Her mom asks.

“I’m here. I have to go, though. I’ll call you after the race, OK?” Natalie quickly speaks before hanging up.

With all the people around, she had drifted a distance away from the entrance to the McLaren paddock. The paddock, a buzzing hive of activity with team members, journalists, and fans, proved to be a labyrinth of twists and turns. In the midst of the race excitement, Natalie had momentarily strayed from the familiar path, drawn by the urgency of the call from her mom.

As she hangs up the phone and takes a quick scan of her surroundings, a sense of disorientation kicks in. Racing against time to retrace her steps, she turns to see where Lucas might be but couldn't spot him amid the crowd. Panic sets in, and her steps quicken as she rushes back towards the garage. The familiar sights and sounds of the paddock become a blur as she navigates the human maze, desperate to reach the safety of the familiar McLaren territory.

Frantic and without anyone by her side, as Lando had pleaded with her, Natalie finds herself caught in a moment of vulnerability. The realisation dawns upon her—Lando knew it had been Lucas and deliberately withheld the information. The protective instinct in Lando's actions becomes clear. He chose not to disclose the identity of the person who had caused her distress, perhaps to shield her from the heightened anxiety that such knowledge might induce.

In the midst of the racing world's chaos, Natalie grapples with the conflicting emotions of gratitude for Lando's protective gesture and the realisation that there are elements of her past that still hold the power to disrupt her present. As she hurries back to the garage, the intensity of the race is momentarily eclipsed by the personal turmoil unravelling in the paddock.

- AFTER THE RACE -

“Where’s Natalie?” Lando yells as he celebrates with his team on a P2 finish in the British GP.

“No idea.” Zak yells back as the crowd keeps growing louder.

The jubilation of the race result echoes through the paddock, but Lando's elation is tinged with concern for Natalie's whereabouts. Amidst the cheers and the team's celebratory atmosphere, her absence becomes a noticeable void.

The thrill of the podium finish momentarily takes a back seat to Lando's growing unease. The question about Natalie's location hangs in the air, creating a pause in the celebratory chaos.

Lando breaks free from the crew as he rushes into the garage.

“Where’s she?” He asks his father, but doesn’t wait for a response, he just keeps running. “Nattie!”

His voice echoes through the garage, filled with urgency and worry. The celebration around him fades into the background as he searches for the one person who matters most to him. The pit lane becomes a blur as Lando races towards a truth he needs to uncover, his mind echoing with the possibility that something might have gone wrong.

Natalie is locked in Lando's driver's room, hidden beneath the massage table, when she hears Lando's voice screaming her name. The sound reverberates through the room, heightening the tension in the air. As his calls pierce through the silence, the door rattles from his attempts to gain access, his hands banging on the door, urgently pleading for her to open it.

In the confined space beneath the massage table, Natalie can feel her heartbeat syncing with the frantic rhythm of Lando's cries. The fear of being discovered intensifies with each passing second. The room becomes a sanctuary of isolation, echoing with the outside world's chaos and the desperate plea of someone searching for her.

Unable to endure the mounting pressure, Natalie decides to end the charade. She gets up, her hands trembling as she unlocks the door. The door swings open, revealing a breathless Lando on the other side. His eyes scan the room, settling on her panicked expression and shaky hands. The relief on his face is palpable as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him, creating a momentary bubble of privacy in the midst of the paddock's tumult.

“It's Lucas... isn't it?” She manages to speak, her voice laden with fear and vulnerability. “He was in the paddock earlier, and then he was just gone. Please tell me it isn't Lucas.”

The revelation of Lucas's presence and the implications weigh heavily on the air. Natalie's tears stream down her face, dampening the fabric of Lando's fireproof suite as she seeks solace in his arms.

“I'm sorry, love.” Lando breathes as he pulls her against him, offering a comforting embrace. 

“Why would he do something like that?” She cries into his chest, the pain and confusion evident in her voice.

The question lingers, an unspoken plea for answers to a situation that strikes at the heart of trust and security. The weight of the revelation, the emotions swirling in the air, leaves him momentarily speechless. Sometimes, there are no words that can adequately capture the complexity of the situation, especially when faced with the shocking reappearance of someone from Natalie's past.

In the silence that follows, Lando tightens his embrace, offering a silent reassurance that transcends verbal communication. His presence, a steadying force in the midst of turmoil, becomes a tangible anchor for Natalie as they navigate the uncertainty together. Sometimes, the absence of words speaks volumes, acknowledging the depth of the emotional turmoil and the unspoken commitment to face whatever challenges lie ahead, hand in hand.

After calming Natalie down, Lando continues to debrief with the media and the team, leaving her in the care of his father. As they get ready to leave the paddock, Lando wraps his arm around Natalie, keeping her tight against him. The physical closeness serves as both a shield and a source of comfort, a silent affirmation of their connection and Lando's commitment to providing her with a sense of security.

Strolling down the paddock in silence, the night has settled, and the once-bustling atmosphere has dwindled. Very few people still wander around, allowing the couple a moment of respite amid the shadows of the paddock. Adam, Lando's father, had departed earlier to arrange additional security for both Lando and Natalie. He had pulled some strings to ensure a heightened police presence outside the track premises, further fortifying their protection.

In the quiet of the night, with the paddock lights casting a gentle glow, Lando and Natalie navigate the aftermath of the unsettling revelation, finding solace in each other's presence and the unspoken assurance of shared strength. The night air carries a mixture of tension and determination as they make their way through the paddock.

“I always thought you two would make a good-looking couple.” Lucas' voice echoes as he emerges from the shadows, stopping Lando and Natalie in their tracks. The sudden appearance sends a shiver down their spines, the past converging with the present in an unexpected and unsettling confrontation.

Lando instinctively tightens his grip around Natalie, a protective stance against the intrusion. The paddock, once a place of celebration and victory, transforms into an eerie backdrop for a confrontation that neither of them anticipated. The ambient glow of the paddock lights casts long shadows, accentuating the tension in the air.

Natalie's gaze narrows, a mixture of fear and defiance in her eyes as she confronts the figure from her past.

“There’s no use in hiding her. She’s always been a scared little girl.” Lucas continues, his words slicing through the air with a cruel edge. The tension in the paddock becomes palpable as he attempts to exert control through intimidation.

“You don’t want to do this, mate.” Lando warns him, a firmness in his tone. The protective instinct in Lando intensifies, his posture reflecting a readiness to shield Natalie from any harm.

“Oh, but I do. Because I vividly remember you staring at her, pining after her, pretty much frothing at the mouth when she was around you. Now you have her, but is she really as great as you hoped she would be?” Lucas asks. “Have you not realised that there’s nothing special about her?”

Lucas' words are laced with bitterness and resentment. His attempt to undermine their relationship becomes evident, a calculated effort to sow doubt and discord. Lando's jaw clenches, and his gaze narrows as he absorbs the verbal assault. He remains steadfast, standing beside Natalie with an unwavering determination to protect her from the venomous words.

“I think you need to leave.” Lando continues to warn him, his voice firm and resolute.

The air becomes charged with tension as Lucas takes a step closer to the couple, his actions pushing the boundaries of confrontation. Natalie, feeling the threat escalate, clutches Lando's arm, attempting to pull him back from the brewing conflict.

“And, you. You naughty little whore. Did you really think I was stupid? You got so turned on whenever he smiled at you. I should have known when you suddenly started wearing shorter skirts when you knew he’d be around.” Lucas continues, his words cutting through the air with a venomous tone.

The accusatory remarks aim to demean and shame, further escalating the tension in the paddock. Natalie, stung by the degrading comments, feels a surge of anger and humiliation. She tightens her grip on Lando's arm, seeking solace and strength from his unwavering presence.

“That’s enough. You do not get to speak to her.” Lando barks, his voice carrying a stern and protective edge.

The line has been crossed, and Lando, unwilling to tolerate any further disrespect towards Natalie, asserts himself in the face of Lucas's venomous words.

“Did she tell you she packed all her shit and disappeared in the middle of the night? That she didn’t even have the audacity to leave me in person, she left a note on the kitchen counter.” Lucas adds, his bitterness evident in every word. “She left me without any warning.”

Natalie, caught off guard by the airing of their past, feels a mixture of emotions. Lando, however, remains resolute, refusing to let the past dictate the present. He wraps a protective arm around Natalie, silently conveying his support and determination to shield her from the ghosts of her past relationship.

“I don’t blame her.” Lando counters. “You drugged her and assaulted her, and we have proof.”

The revelation of Lucas's heinous actions shifts the power dynamics of the confrontation. Lando, steadfast in his defence of Natalie, draws a line in the sand, exposing Lucas's true nature.

“I did not assault her.” Lucas argues. “She was drunk and having a good time. Who would have thought she’d be grinding her ass up against me that night and not you?”

His attempt to twist the narrative adds a layer of manipulation to the already charged atmosphere. Lando's jaw clenches once more, his grip on Natalie tightening as he struggles to contain his anger.

“Mate, take one more step and it’s over for you. Did you honestly think you could come into this paddock after what you did in Shanghai and intimidate us? I have people all over this paddock watching us right now. I have video evidence being sent to the police where you’re paying a barman to drug a girl’s drink with the intention of physically harming her. You do not get to scare her any more. You do not get to look her in the face and cause her any more trauma. Do you understand me? You’re going to walk out of here and never look back.” Lando barks with a resolute authority, his words cutting through the tension-laden air. “Leave. Now.”

Lucas, realising the gravity of the situation, begins to retreat hastily. The collective eyes of the paddock, now aware of the unfolding drama, follow his every step. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and anticipation as security guards shadow Lucas's exit.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Lando repeats, his voice cutting through the commotion.

The authority in his tone demands compliance, and Lucas, with a resentful glance back, continues his retreat, disappearing into the shadows of the paddock. As the tension gradually dissipates, Natalie looks up at Lando, a mixture of relief and gratitude in her eyes.

The distant wailing of police sirens grows louder, signalling the swift response to the emergency call. Within moments, uniformed officers arrive on the scene, taking control of the situation. Adam provides the evidence they gathered, including footage of Lucas orchestrating the drugging at the club in Shanghai.

Lucas, now surrounded by law enforcement, is met with stern faces and handcuffs. The seriousness of his actions sinks in as the officers read him his rights. The arrest is swift, and the atmosphere in the paddock shifts from tension to a sense of justice being served.

Natalie watches from a distance, her eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. Lando stands by her side, a protective arm around her shoulders. The weight of the recent events slowly begins to lift as they witness Lucas being led away by the police.

Lando, having fulfilled his promise to protect Natalie, looks down at her with a reassuring smile. The wheels of justice are in motion, and the dark chapter of Lucas's actions is now transitioning to a resolution that ensures accountability.

As they drive back to the hotel, the quietness inside the car is a comfortable one, devoid of tension and anxiety. The events in the paddock have left an emotional residue, but the shared silence between Natalie and Lando carries a sense of mutual understanding. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle rhythm of the road serve as a backdrop to their contemplative thoughts.

Lando occasionally glances at Natalie, his expression a mix of concern and relief. He reaches over and gently takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Natalie, still processing the recent confrontation with Lucas, appreciates the warmth of his touch.

The city lights illuminate the night, creating a calming ambiance within the car. The journey, though marked by the unexpected encounter, becomes a moment of reflection for both of them. The emotional rollercoaster they've been on seems to slow down, allowing them to catch their breaths.

In the dimly lit hotel room, the soft glow of the bathroom light spills into the space. Natalie takes a moment to compose herself, the echoes of the recent encounter with Lucas still lingering in her thoughts. As she emerges from the bathroom, she finds Lando sorting through their luggage.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, Natalie decides to embrace the solace of Lando's presence. Without saying a word, she walks over to him and wraps her arms around him. Lando, attuned to her unspoken feelings, reciprocates by folding his arms around her waist. In the quiet intimacy, he rests his head against her neck, offering silent support.

A moment of stillness hangs in the air before Natalie, moved by the comfort Lando provides, retracts slightly. Without a word, she pulls him closer and seals the moment with a sweet and reassuring kiss. The exchange speaks volumes, conveying a shared understanding and a connection that transcends words.

“What was that for?” Lando whispers once she pulls aways from the kiss.

“It was a thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for what you did.” She murmurs, her words carrying the weight of deep appreciation.

Lando, understanding the sentiment behind her actions, tightens his embrace and responds with another tender kiss.

“And, I’ll do it again. No questions asked.” His commitment to her safety is unwavering. “You know I love you, right?”

Natalie's heart skips a beat at Lando's unexpected confession of love. The shock registers on her face as she gazes into his eyes, trying to comprehend the depth of his feelings. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and a mix of emotions swirl within her.

In that moment, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping them in a cocoon of shared vulnerability. Natalie, caught off guard, searches Lando's eyes for sincerity and finds a sincerity that resonates deeply with her own emotions.

“You do?” She asks shyly.

“Of course, I do.” He informs her, his voice soft and low as he caresses her cheek. “How could I not?”

She presses her lips to him once more as they shuffle towards the bed. She pulls him down on top of her, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as they continue to kiss. In the intimate embrace, their lips meet in a dance of shared emotions and newfound revelations. The room, once filled with tension, transforms into a haven where unspoken feelings find expression. Lando responds to her kiss with a gentle passion, savouring the warmth of the moment.

As they continue to kiss, a sense of comfort envelops them, transcending the events of the day. The weight of recent challenges begins to lift, replaced by the tender connection they've discovered. In each other's arms, they find solace, understanding, and the promise of something deeper than the complexities of their fake relationship.

The journey from pretending to love to acknowledging true feelings has unfolded in unexpected ways, leading them to this intimate intersection. The room becomes a sanctuary for their unspoken emotions, and time seems to slow down, allowing them to savour the sweetness of the moment.

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

Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld @scopeiguess @tbsloneely @secretgal66

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I'm There: Chapter Eleven

Read from part one

Summary: Noah and Natalie met in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.....

this story will sometimes contain mature content, minors DNI

warnings: underaged drinking (don't do that!), mentions of alcohol abuse

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @thebadchic

“You're going to freak!” Noah says excitedly into the phone and I startle a little at the sudden mood shift. “Oh, what is it?” I ask. “Get this Natty. A band dropped out of the west coast leg of these guys' tour- Jasmine Feuds- and their manager asked us to join them.” what? “It's two weeks, eight shows along the east coast. Isn’t that amazing?” Noah’s voice is filled with a childlike glee, like this is the treasure he's been digging for all his life. “Oh, wow.” I fall back onto my bed, into the pillows.

The scrambling emotions in my head are all over the place, two weeks on the road seems like a lot but I guess I should just try and be supportive. “That sounds amazing Noah but, what about school?”

He lets out an unconcerned laugh “school is whatever, I’ll just make up the work when I get back but I don't really care because this is a huge for Iron Vendetta.” I pause. “Iron Vendetta?” I question.

He laughs again. “Yeah, we had to come up with something fast so they could put it on the flier.” It’s been a long weekend and I don’t quite know how to process this on top of everything else. I guess it’s really not that complicated…my mom just almost died from alcohol poisoning and now my boyfriend is telling me he's leaving for two weeks to go be a rockstar.

“You already said yes?” I finally ask in a small voice. We’ve only been dating for 5½ months but I figured he’d talk to me at least before committing to something like that. Wouldn’t a boyfriend do that? Not that I have anything to compare it to. I'm lost in my own thoughts and didn’t realize Noah had started talking. “-it’ll be insane Natty. Such a great opportunity, Kevin, the manager, said we’ll be playing in front of hundreds of people! Isn't that amazing?!”

The excitement in his voice is palpable but I can’t help but feel a sick heavy dread settling in my stomach. “Yeah, that sounds great Noah. Umm..I should really get started on some of my homework. When will you leave?” I ask. “End of the week..so I’ll need about every single second of your free time until then.” Despite the sadness I feel with the news of him leaving a small smile crosses my face at his words. “I want to get my fill of Natty time before being without you for two whole weeks.” 

After ending the call I work on my homework and prepare for the coming week. Monday comes and goes, Dad takes Mom to the treatment center and we go about seemingly normal. I spend a few nights at Noah's this week since he’s leaving soon but I tell my dad I’m with Maggie to keep him from freaking out. Kyle probably knows but doesn't say anything, which is a surprising change. I do have to push Noah out of bed those mornings so I can make it to school on time, he’s cute in the mornings. Friday morning we’re lazily cuddling and kissing, avoiding my alarm so we can steal more minutes together before he leaves tonight. I have work after school and he comes by on his way out of town. I take my fifteen-minute break making out with him outside of his car.

Nick was sitting in the passenger seat trying to busy himself with anything else. “I'm going to miss you so much Natty.” Noah says in between kisses. “I’m going to miss you too,” I respond hugging him close to me and resting my head against his chest as his arms pull tighter around me holding me closer. “I hope y'all have a good time, and I want to hear all about it when you get back.” My break is almost over so I’m leaning into his open window, “Good luck, and text me when you get to the first city okay?” I ask him and Nick. “yes ma’am” Nick responds playfully. As they drive away and I head back into work I try to shake off the feeling of loss. He’s coming back. Two weeks will go by fast. 

The first few days of the tour go well, I hear from Noah and Nick sporadically, with short texts and five-second phone calls before bed. On Thursday night I’m studying for a test after school and my phone lights up with his contact photo. It's him drinking a coffee I made him at work.

I answer excitedly “Hey Noah! I’m so glad you called! I’ve missed you so much!” There's loud music in the background “One sec-hicup-ond Natty, imtryna get outside,” Noah slurs and my heart falls. I haven't heard from him in a couple days and he's calling me drunk. What the hell. I can hear shuffling on the line and the music is slowly fading. “Okay babyy, I’m finally outside. I miss you, i cantwait to see you-hic- next Friday.” I hear the crunching of leaves under his heavy footsteps. “God, I miss how good you smell.” He huffs out as the footsteps stop and I’m guessing he finds a seat. “Noah? Are you okay? Are you drunk?” I ask. He laughs and hiccups like a child that's been caught with a cookie after bedtime. “Imnoth at drunk Nattty. Just had some driniks after teh show.”

His words all blend togher and It sends me back to conversations with my own mother. When I would ask her for help with my homework and she would slump over the table, her wine breath wafting over and infecting the air I was breathing. “Um Noah, maybe we should talk tomorrow when you're feeling more like yourself,” I say to him swallowing the pain in my throat. “Noo baby, plea-burp-se I need to hear your voice, I miss you so-hup-much.” My Mom used to drink and cry to my brother and I about how much she missed our Dad. “I’m sorry Noah, I can’t talk to you right now.” The freshness of my Mom's overdose still weighs heavy on me. “I love you so much Natty, you know that? You’re the prettiest girl ever.” I hear him yawn and hope Nick is somewhere close and sober. “Okay, I love you too, call me tomorrow okay?” He sighs and takes a deep breath “okay baby, I will callyou tomoro.” I click the end-call button and send a quick text to Nick. 

Natalie: are you with Noah? He just called me very drunk :/… 10:34pm

Nick: Yeah, sorry Nat. He had one to many after the show. I got him. 10:50pm

The next morning Noah doesn't call and I try not to think about it but I definitely feel frustration starting to build. Noah keeps promising to call and text but then never does or forgets and leaves me on read. I try to just focus on the school day and around lunch when I'm sitting with Maggie in the art room he finally texts me. 

Noah: Hey Natty. I’m so sorry about last night. 11:36am

Noah: I shouldnt have had that much to drink last night. 11:36am

Noah: can I call you when you get out for the day? 11:36am

Natalie: It’s okay noah. 11:45am

Natalie: I have work right after school 11:45am

Natalie: I can call you when I get off, it’ll be around 9pm. 11:47am

Noah: we go on at 8:45 tonight…can I call you after? 11:48am

Natalie: um…sure. I’ll try to stay up. 12:00pm

Noah: okay! Love you baby 12:01pm

Natalie: love u 2. 12:05pm

“So he finally texted back huh?” Maggie sneers slightly. She’s almost more upset about how he has been acting than me. “Yeah, he wants to call me tonight but I don’t know how late it will be,” I explain to her. “So what? You’re just going to sit around your phone all night waiting for him to call.” I understand she's just trying to be a supportive friend but I’m really trying to be positive about this whole thing. I knew he’d be busy on this tour and I’m trying to be the cool understanding girlfriend. “I’m not going to just wait around, if he calls me before I fall asleep then we will talk, or we’ll talk later. I knew this would be a busy trip for him.” I attempt to defend the situation even though I also find myself frustrated. She drops it after noticing me growing more upset. The rest of the day goes by and Maggie drives the two of us to work after school. 

Friday nights have been super busy lately since the owner started having live music. Tonight playing is a singer/songwriter from Austin named Naomi King, she's so cool and her music is soft and emotional. She grabs a tea after her session and we talk a little. “So what's life like in this little town?” she asks. “Austin isn't huge but the music, the nightlife, and the atmosphere makes it seem bigger. I can’t wait to go home soon. This was my last little stop on my way home.” she tells me, sipping her peppermint tea. “Oh wow, that sounds amazing. I’ve always wanted to get somewhere bigger than this place. It feels so small, shallow.” I reply. “I want to see what the world has to offer.” 

I end up staying later to help finish cleaning duties and once I get home and shower I don’t have the energy to stay awake to wait for Noah's call. 

In the morning I see I have an eight-minute long voicemail from Noah left at 2:34am. I press play and there's loud music playing in the background. He’s not saying anything so I’m confused, it’s not until I hear another muffled voice talking that I realize he pocket-dialed me.

“So do you think ya’ll join us in the next leg thats coming up?” a female voice asks.

rustle rustle “uh I’m not sure” Noah says but I hear what I think is Julius says “Hell yeah, we wouldnt miss that shit!” 

“Come on Noah, I miss you to much if you didn’t come.” the girls voice says again.

As much as I wanted to stop listening I feel the seed of jealousy taking root. Who is this girl? Why didn't he mention there was another girl on tour? Is that important? I feel like he should have at least said something.

“I dont know…maybe.” Noah says. 

“Maybe? Fuck this” I mumble to myself and exit the voicemail.

I text Maggie what happened, I know she already has a bit of a bad taste in her mouth from what I’ve already confided to her. But, I needed to talk to someone and Kyle and I aren’t there yet.

Maggie: WHAT THE FUCK?! 8:36am

Maggie: WHAT GIRL??? HOLD ON! 8:36am

Maggie: Im looking on instagram rn! 8:36am

I dont have instagram, I had a facebook for a couple of weeks but it was boring and my grandma kept sending me farmville requests so I deleted it.

Maggie: OMG! LOOK! 8:44am

Photo: Noah and a large group. He’s standing next to a girl and her hand is arround his waist, his arms are resting across his chest. The caption reads: “having so much fun touring with these guys! They are great!” and the user name is Alex Jacks.

Maggie: looks like shes the guitarist for Jasmines Fudes. 8:44

I’m staring at the photo she sent me. She’s so pretty. She’s so cool, she has long black hair with blue and pink streaks. She has tattoos and a lip ring. 

The jealousy I felt before is now a wild fire burning through my heart.

Part 12 here! !!!! xoxox later besties

[gracethyomen]

“Vague Job Description”

Natalie is the paralegal that's been in love with Matt since she's known him.

Unbeknownst to her, Matt knows all too well how she feels about him, but tries to keep her at arms length to keep her safe.

When she starts to get dragged into the underbelly of hell's kitchen he calls home, some things can no longer remain hidden, and some emotions aren’t so easy to control.

Summary: It’s literally the pilot. First installments are always iffy just bear with me.

Warnings: Mention of death, mention of blood, mention of homicide, SO MUCH PINING. Matt being a human disaster, Natalie being a simp. Matt also being a simp but quieter. These two idiots can’t express their feelings for the life of them.

"Foggy." The automated voice on his phone droned. "Foggy. Foggy."

Matt sighed, reaching to accept the call before sitting up. "Hello?" He answered, yawning widely.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Foggy chirped from the other side of the line. The sounds of other peoples' footsteps and the general business of Hell's Kitchen coming with it.

"What time is it?" He fingered the silk fabric of his sheets, savoring the feeling between his fingertips. Far too happy to lay back down for the time being.

"Half past get the hell up," Foggy replied. "Let's go! We gotta meet the real estate agent in..." He paused, Matt assumed to check his watch. "45."

"Usually, Nat calls me when i'm late." He pointed out, effectively ignoring Foggy's instructions.

"Nat's not answering her phone. She's probably already finding stuff to do." Foggy rationalized, the sound of people talking now starting to overcome him. What he said was odd. Nat usually always picked up her phone, even when she was so hungover she sounded like she'd been hit by a train. "Must've stayed out too late."

"She tell you about any dates or something last night?" Matt pushed, feeling an unwelcome dart of worry run through him for a split second.

"Aw, Matt, you do care. I'll need to get that in writing and give it to Nat for her birthday. She might cry." Foggy said sarcastically. "Seriously, get moving. I've got to go bribe a cop."

"Ah, Foggy." Matt warned, standing up to grab his phone, wandering into his living room.

"Kidding, NSA, if you're listening. But really, yeah, I gotta bribe a cop."

Matt shook his head smiling, and started his morning routine.

"You've got a reception area, a conference room and two offices. Corner suite has a view of the Hudson..." Natalie was only partially listening to the real estate agent giving them a tour of the floor, her fingers clenching around her black folder she was holding to her neatly pressed pencil skirt. She looked around, pushing up her glasses as she ran her eyes over the yellowed molding on the floor, looking for loose nails or lifted floorboards. Anything a cane or a shoe might catch on.

"You can flip a coin with your partner for it." Susan joked, gesturing to Nat.

Natalie fought a flush as she spluttered a little. Holding up her hand and laughing awkwardly. "Oh, I'm not-"

"Uh, he can have the view." She heard a familiar voice and a creak of the door before turning to see Matt entering through the door. A small smile on his face.

Susan, the realtor, immediately widened her eyes. plastering a charming smile over her face. "I'm... So sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Matt smirked, standing just ahead of the door holding his cane. "Of course not."

Susan chuckled, taking a step forward and extending her hand for a shake. "Susan Harris. Midtown Property Solutions."

"Matt Murdock."

Susan seemed to realize her mistake and dropped her hand, choosing instead to do an odd knee-bend. Nat fought not to roll her eyes. Somehow Matt always found a way to make the gorgeous women in his vicinity turn into bumbling fools.

Foggy saved them both from the palpable awkwardness. "She just curtsied. It was adorable."

Matt chuckled, turning his head briefly to the floor. "Well, it's nice to know Chivalry isn't dead." Matt lifted his chin, turning his head in a way that Foggy recognized was him listening for something. "Natalie?"

She turned from the window with an audible, "Hmm?" Matt smiled just a little, turning to face the sound. The action causing her heart to flutter momentarily. She convinced herself over the years that she imagined it, but part of her leapt at the way he always seemed to smile when he recognized her presence nearby.

He lifted a hand, palm up, a silent request that she had become accustomed to at this point. She immediately walked from the side of the room to Matt, taking his rough hand in hers and guiding it to her side, where he instinctively curled his fingers at the spot where her bicep met her elbow. She tried not to shudder, like she always did, when he touched her skin. Hoping the goosebumps didn't feel as obvious as she dreaded.

"Susan, if we could continue with-" Natalie urged, looking briefly at Matt before turning back to the agent expectantly.

"Yes of course, my pleasure. As I was telling your associates, Mr. Murdock, this office was barely touched by the incident, which is why it's on the market already. The neighbors weren't so lucky."

Matt snickered softly. "'The incident'? Is that what we're calling it now."

Natalie scoffed. "Well, it sounds so much better than 'death and destruction raining from the sky, nearly wiping Hell's Kitchen off the map'." She murmured.

Matt laughed aloud. Something she didn't expect. "Shorter, too." He quipped. Making her smile.

Foggy crinkled his nose a little, pointing out the window. "Owner figuring in the delightful view of cranes and scaffolding?" He asked, eyeing the construction work outside distastefully. "Feels like we're getting pre-incident prices."

Susan flashed him a smile that was more teeth than anything. "They're a quarter of what they used to be. Hell's Kitchen's on the rebound, Mr. Nelson." She took a step closer to the group. "And in eighteen months you won't be able to rent a broom closet at this price point."

Matt squeezed her elbow, and she tried to tell herself that the touch was unconscious as he stated. "We'll take it."

Foggy snorted, looking quickly at Matt. "We will talk about it. Because we're not sure we can even afford this palace." He said pointedly.

Nat looked between Foggy and the man holding her arm. "Unless you both make some changes to your current clientele policy." She pointed out.

Matt nodded, turning to 'look' at the realtor. "My partner and I are having some disagreements over the direction of Nelson and Murdock." He clarified, his free hand fidgeting with the handle of his cane. "I believe we're here to defend the innocent."

Foggy sniffed, smiling with a strained expression. "And I believe the innocent includes everyone not yet convicted of a crime."

Natalie coughed, "You know, as the law states." Matt shook his head, not acknowledging her comment.

"He likes to use fancy terminology."

"And my partner fails to recognize that, as attorneys, we're never gonna be able to keep the lights on, waiting on a horde of innocent souls to stumble into our loving arms." Foggy sighed, exasperated.

Matt blew out a quiet breath. "At this point. I think i'd settle for just one."

"Foggy called to drag my ass out of bed this morning." Matt spoke into the quiet space. Natalie looked up from her new desk to see him standing in front of it. The suite only had two offices, and as they had decided Matt utilized her the most, she would share with him. Instead of his normal glasses she was met with his brown, unseeing eyes. Looking somewhere past her head.

"Sounds about right." She said, bending down to pick her little plant out of the cardboard box she'd put it in for the move. Along with the dainty watering can.

"Usually you call me." Matt continued, folding up his cane and placing his hand on the thin wood of her desk. She didn't respond. "And Foggy said you weren't answering the phone."

Natalie closed her eyes for a moment. "Did some meditating last night and forgot to turn it back on." Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. She did turn her phone off so she wouldn't be bothered. But not for meditating. And she didn't forget to turn it back on.

"Nat..." Matt murmured.

"Matt, I didn't get abducted. I don't see why you're so upset about this." She said testily, standing from her desk to connect her extension cord to the outlet.

She heard a soft sigh, and when she stood back up she saw Matt was rounding her desk to lean against it, next to her chair.

"You're not just my associate, you're my friend. It's normal for me to care about your well-being. Especially in Hell's Kitchen." He spoke mildly, but she could see his fingertips squeezing the lip of her desk.

Just like many times before, she was grateful Matt couldn't see her wince slightly at the word friend. She forced a laugh, but it sounded strained even to her own ears. "I'm touched, Matt, but i'm fine. Just a mix up."

"Natalie."

"Matthew." She countered, trying for a playful tone.

"I missed your call." He confessed quietly, and her heart lurched. A soft blush climbing high in her cheeks. It was moments like that that made it hard for her to go on blind dates. To text the barista who wrote his number on her coffee order. She was fucking pathetic...

"Also, it's really hard to find a good paralegal who is pleasant in conversation and can take notes in braille." Matt added, breaking some of the awkwardness. Nat laughed. Staring at her stupid little plant instead of the incredibly oblivious, gorgeous man leaning against her desk.

Foggy burst through the office door, phone still in hand and eyes bright. "We have a case!"

Matt raised his eyebrows, reaching to unfold his cane. "Since when?"

"Since that cop I bribed fell in love with me!" Foggy exclaimed, waving anxiously for them to follow him. "Come on, come on! Homicide! Suspect doesn't remember anything! Let's go!"

"Go where?" Natalie huffed, grabbing her notepad and folder as well as Matt's briefcase.

"Precinct two blocks west of here! Let's go!" Foggy urged, practically dragging Matt by the elbow out of the office.

The sight of a thin, blonde woman practically shriveling behind the metal table was the first thing Natalie noticed when she entered the room. The second was the metal cuffs digging harshly into her wrists. She immediately looked at the officer standing to her side.

"Can we please take the cuffs off the 110 pound suspect?" She gestured to the blonde. "Poor thing's literally shaking."

The detective who showed them to the room gave Natalie a strange look, then proceeded to look at Matt and Foggy skeptically.

"Miss Page, can you tell me who these men and their... associate, are?" The gruff man drawled, looking entirely displeased with the new arrivals.

"We're her lawyers." Matt said, before turning his head towards Nat. "This is Ms. Bishop. Uncuff our client and give us the room, please." Matt's tone left no room for disagreement, and Nat watched the officer free Miss Page.

"And a chair for Ms. Bishop, if you don't mind." Foggy added. Matt nodding at him gratefully.

The detective huffed but dragged one of the aluminum chairs loudly to the edge of the table. The four of them stood in awkward silence as the detectives left the room, the lock buzzing ominously as the door closed.

Matt wasted no time. "Ms. Page, my name is Matt Murdock. This is my partner, Foggy Nelson and-"

Ms. Page zeroed her gaze in on Natalie. "Are you a lawyer, too?"

Natalie cleared her throat, smiling nervously. "No, i'm, uh-"

"Paralegal." Matt said, at the exact moment Foggy said, "Assistant."

Ms. Page looked between all three of them confusedly. As Matt angled his head at Foggy for a moment, before lifting his chin back to where Ms. Page's voice was coming from.

"It's a... Wide job description at the moment." He clarified, before gesturing in the direction of the chairs. "Do you mind if we sit?"

Natalie watched her adjust in her seat, dropping her gaze.

Foggy tilted his head towards Matt, whisper-yelling in an effort to break the tension. "She gave a vague shrug, I say we go with it." Matt nodded and all three of them promptly sat in their respective chairs. Natalie took out the physical notebook to start writing things down.

"We understand you're in some trouble." Matt began, bracing his hands on the table. "We, uh, may be able to help."

Foggy also got right down to business. "Can you tell us what happened?" He held his hands out, "Why don't we start with what we know, then?" He sighed, searching the woman's blank face. "You were found in your apartment with one..." He checked the name on the report he'd been given. "Daniel fisher."

"Who appears to be the victim of a homicide," Matt continued. "And, currently, you're the only suspect, Ms. Page."

Ms. Page looked between the two of them incredulously, and Natalie noticed that not only did she have blood stains on her hands and forearms, but her eyes were also red and rubbed raw from crying.

"Who the hell are you guys?" She breathed, gripping her arms to her body tightly.

"I'm Matt, he's Foggy." Matt said; matter-of-fact. "She's Natalie." He nodded his head at Nat, who had been waiting for something important to be said.

"Who sent you?" Ms. Page continued her questioning, leaning her head forward just enough for her wheat-colored hair to fall forward in a curtain around her face.

"No one sent us." Matt reassured her. And almost before he could get the words out Ms. Page started to speak again.

"So, what?" She laughed humorlessly. "You're just a couple of Good Samaritans? Todays just my lucky day?"

Foggy chose this moment to say, "I bribed the desk sergeant with a box of cigars for his mom." As a way of explanation.

Matt took a classier approach. "Our practice is relatively young, Ms. Page, and we are aggressively pursuing new clientele." He sighed and turned to Foggy. "You gotta stop giving Bess cigars."

Foggy scoffed. "She likes to smoke, Matt. It's a free country."

Natalie watched as Ms. Page observed the exchange. Clearly at an impasse as to what was the right decision here. She swallowed hard. Looking between Natalie and the two lawyers.

"So..." She began. "How long have you been practicing law?"

Matt turned his head towards Natalie. "What time is it?" She and Foggy checked their watches at the same time but Natalie replied first.

"It's 12:22 AM." She murmured to Matt.

Matt cleared his throat and turned his head back towards Ms. Page, folding his hands neatly on the table. "About seven hours." He said firmly.

Nat scoffed quietly. "Well, if you go from when you passed the bar-"

Matt pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I was going from when we got our own desks."

Foggy nodded as if that was the most logical approach to the situation. "Oh, then, yeah. Seven hours." He turned back to Ms. Page with a proud smile. Natalie rolled her eyes with a faint smirk playing on her lips.

This was going to be a long night.

a/n: WHOO BOY this one is chunky. 2.5k words. I know this bit is kind of dull but I promise there’s more Nat and Matt next time. Getting a story going is incredibly boring sometimes. Thanks for reading! If you feel like it consider dropping a note or a follow for more of this story. Have a good day/night!

As always, special thanks to @abucketofweird for your support in this series. You’re currently the proud owner of the dedication for it. <3

- Sybil

[the-blind-assassin-12]

writer wednesday #6 - 2/23/22

Happy Wednesday, friends! I hope you’re all having a good week so far & that the universe is being kind to you- and if it isn’t, tell it to change it’s stank attitude because you deserve better. Time for another (not at all weekly because i suck at schedules) edition of Three Great Things. No theme this week aside from the fact that I read them and then took a few minutes to revel in their greatness. 

*as always, these are listed in length order* 

Not an Act by @radiowallet​

Ezra x GN Reader 

WC - 716 

This was a lovely, poetic read. I could feel myself falling in love with this fringeling rabble-rouser all over again. The imagery is vivid and beautiful. The emotion is palpable. I could feel the difference between the cool sheets and the warm bed, and I could hear Ezra grumbling in the kitchen (what a flipping DREAM!) This absolutely skirts the smutty line without actually being smut, and I love that...so much.  If you haven’t read this yet and you’ve got a few minutes, please indulge. You won’t be sorry that you did. 

I never want to hear you say that again by @ahsokalives

Javi  Peña x Female Reader

WC -  1,262

Okay first I want to start out by saying that when I think of gentle, affectionate or emotional characters, Javier Peña is not who I think of first. But caring, concerned and secretly kind characters? Yeah, he is near the top of that list of traits, and in this piece those aspects of his are on FULL display. He is not the type of person to sugarcoat things or tell you that everything is alright when he knows damn well that things are a mess. But he is also not the type of person to let a defeat of any sort deter him from doing what is right- and in this case, that means checking on Reader and not allowing her to bury herself in guilt and anger. I love that you let her be mad and upset, though, and that you let her lash out a little at him. I love that you let her feel her emotions and push back a little at first because this is not normal behavior coming from him (in terms of their history) but it’s both what she wants and needs...and he needs to be there for her (and with her) just as much. I flipping loved every second of this. Do I want happier times for these two? Of course I do. But life (and their lives especially due to their line of work) is FULL of ups and downs, and if this is going to be how they handle the downs? Then I think they’re going to be just fine. 

Nightingale Part 4 by @something-tofightfor

Jay Castillo x Female Reader 

WC - 6,096 

Listen if you’re not already reading Nightingale you are missing out. Change that, like now. Click the link up there. JUST DO IT. I am SO invested in this series and in these characters, and it’s because they are genuine and real. This is not a hurry up let’s hop into bed story. But it’s not technically a slow burn either because there are more things to consider here than just mutual attraction and desire. And even though the attraction and desire are definitely there on both sides of this equation, both Jay and Reader are being as careful as can be with how they approach things- because they’re good people (more on that in a second) but also because they actually truly like one another and the interactions that they’ve had have been honest and if there is something significant on the horizon for their relationship, they don’t want it to have been built on a shaky pier. Back to them both being good people- Jay’s interaction with Natalie and Reader’s interaction with Kenzie are perfect examples. I’m glad that she has a friend who wants the best for her but isn’t afraid to be real with her about things. And I am obsessed with what a good uncle this man is. Here he is getting some... unsavory news, but his immediate concern is that she’s okay. My heart is open wide for him and he can tattoo his name there if he would like. (mine, not Reader’s. they are not there yet.) And the end? The anticipation? DAMN i am stoked for the next part!!  

[retvenkos]

amends pt. 4 // ricky bowen

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series - Slow Burn Ricky Bowen x Stage Manager!Reader Fic. Summary: That’s asking a lot of the theatre gods. Then again, it does include a lot of drama, so maybe it might just work out. pt. 1 // pt. 2 // pt. 3 // pt. 4 // pt. 5 // pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8 // pt. 8.5-ish // pt. 9 //  unfinished

To say that you had been having a hectic week was a gross oversimplification. Ricky and Nini drama aside, the entire main cast was at each other's throats. Gina was sabotaging Nini by making the role of Gabriella an oversaturated triple threat with dances that were impossible to memorize, Ricky and EJ were trying to give each other concussions with basketballs, and at any given moment, all four of them would jump at each other’s throats to secure the lead. Part of you was glad that you never became an actor yourself. Underhanded tricks and backstabbing blows were not things that you were eager to have on a daily basis. That doesn’t stop you from being in the middle, though. Perks of being in charge! You get to deal with everyone’s drama.

To top it all off, you had two essays due the next day, and you had only started on one.

The only one thriving was Seb, who was perfect every time you saw him - onstage and off. You tried to figure out what his secret was, but according to Carlos, there wasn’t one. Perfection simply happens to ‘unproblematic cinnamon rolls’ naturally. What a concept.

But all shows hit stormy, turbulent waters at some point in the rehearsal process. Hopefully, it would be smooth sailing from that moment onward. You didn’t think you could handle much more. That’s why you were so relieved when you got a text from Ricky’s friend, Big Red, asking if he could be a part of the crew. An extra pair of hands was just the thing you needed.

Turning the corner to where Carlos had said rehearsal was going to start, you almost ran into a few, wide-eyed ensemble members. It was only after you started to weave your way to the front of the group that you realized why they had looked so shaken.

Nini and EJ. Standing a few paces away from the group, a pointed space between them as they argued. Their voices were low, but any conversation that had been happening in the hallway had stopped as everyone listened to them with bated breath. You moved to stand next to Big Red, vowing to talk to him after you finished listening to what happened between Nini and EJ. In your defense, it was your job to know what was happening between your leads chemistry wise. After all, Ricky had texted you to let you know that he was going to be late to rehearsal (it was a group text to you, Carlos, and Miss Jen. It’s not like he had any reason to text you personally. It’s not like the two of you had been texting all week and he was the only reason you were sane or anything…). So Nini and EJ were going to have to be Troy and Gabriella, and this betrayal of trust was complicating things.

“Summer’s over.” The tension in the hallway was palpable. Nini’s face was set in harsh lines, and although you couldn’t see his face, you could imagine his eyes widening in panic as his jaw worked soundlessly, trying to come up with an answer.

You turned to Seb as he pretended to be reading from his binder. He looked at you, his head never moving. “Are they…?” you whispered, trying to remain inconspicuous as Nini now faced the group. His nod was almost nonexistent, but the look in his eyes told you everything. Great. So much for clear skies and smooth sailing. You looked at how EJ looked at Nini longingly, the realization of how badly he messed up dawning on his face. Then you looked at Nini, her face solid stone while her head and heart raged within. A hurricane was coming, that much was certain.

Carlos and Natalie ran out of the room that everyone was waiting outside of, effectively disrupting the dark mood that hung in the air. You took that as your cue to start getting Big Red up to speed on where the musical was. If there was going to be a disaster, you needed all hands on deck.

…

“Since when was blocking like going to hell in a handbasket?” Gina chuckled slightly at your remark as you watched scene seven of your beloved musical crash and burn. Well, not the entirety of scene seven. The first part was great. The ensemble did a killer job being comically terrible at their audition. They Sharpay and Ryan audition was ridiculously good, and Ashlyn killed it as Ms. Darbus. But then it happened. Miss Jen (insisting on using the names of the characters) ushered Sharpay and Ryan offstage and called for Troy and Gabriella to enter stage left. That’s when it all started to go downhill.

You looked down at your notes for the scene as Miss Jen tried to work with the lovely couple onstage. Was it even worth fixing? Part of you wanted to scrap the scene entirely. I mean, sure, maybe it was worth mentioning to Nini that she needed to be more natural in her movements, but did you really need to tell her and EJ to actually look at one another when they sang? If they couldn’t pretend to even be apathetic strangers, could they really transform themselves into being pretend lovers by opening night?

“No, dear, that would be upstage.” You looked up as Big Red furrowed his brow, moving so that he could push the piano in the correct direction. Another note: make sure to teach Big Red blocking terms. Nothing would ever get done if the basics couldn’t be handled.

Your phone buzzed and you tore your gaze away from the mountain of corrections you had. It was from Ricky.

from: ricky

(3:15 p.m.) i’m on my way. my mom got an earlier flight, got held up with family stuff.

You bit your lip as you read his text. Things were very confusing with his family, but you didn’t exactly know how. There had been hints of it at auditions and when the two of you talked about meeting up to practice lines or study for math on the weekends (not that you would ever have the courage to actually get together with him), but Ricky had never explicitly told you much. Not that he had to or anything - you were just worried about him. You could tell that it bothered him. You figured that you would get there in time. Friendship takes time to grow, and personal stuff like that was usually disclosed later on.

to: ricky

(3:17 p.m.) we’re in the little theatre. get here as soon as you can.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you tell him that Nini and EJ broke up? You fought with yourself; it wasn’t your business to tell, but it would give a reason as to why he was needed so badly. But then again, if Ricky thought that Nini was available, wouldn’t he try and pursue her again? And wouldn’t that cause her to quit the show from the drama? Wouldn’t that then lead to EJ dropping out too? The last thing you needed was people dropping out or calling it quits. There were only so many actors, and the last thing you needed was a change in dynamics this late in the game.

(3:18 p.m.) miss jen is about to go off the deep end.

Ricky texted back a panicked emoji and you smiled as you locked your phone. It wasn’t a lie, that much you realized as you watch Miss Jen try and salvage the scene with some good, old fashioned girl talk.

Carlos turned around to look at you, a distressed look on his face. “If we can’t get this together soon, we’re going to be behind your schedule.” You sighed, flipping to the schedule at the front of your binder. You had spent hours making sure there was a time for everything. You even color-coded it.

“Maybe we could get some of the individual choreo learned outside of rehearsal time?” You gave Carlos a knowing smile. “You and Seb still have to learn Bop to the Top.” You winked at him jokingly and he laughed, a blush growing across his face.

…

You and the copy machine were good friends. Especially at this point in the rehearsal process. So when Ricky said he needed to borrow someone’s copy of scene seven, you had grabbed Miss Jen’s key off of her desk and made toward the copy machine in the teachers' lounge. Most of the teachers recognized your face in there at this point - you had been making copies for teachers since your first year as a TA for Psychology.

You grabbed the warm pages off of the copy machine and made sure to align them before stapling them in the correct order. Then you sat down at a table and (getting out your pens) started to mark down the entrances and blocking for Troy. Lord knows EJ wouldn’t help Ricky - especially after what went down earlier.

You felt bad for what happened if you were being honest. EJ and Nini were never the perfect match. They both needed someone different. You just weren’t sure if that someone that Nini needed was Ricky or not. They had history, sure; they also had chemistry in spades. But it takes more than that. You knew that. Love was hard.

You let your mind drift to Ricky, with his small smiles and sad eyes. You remembered how happy he used to be. All you wanted was for him to be that happy again.

A teacher walked into the lounge and pulled you from your thoughts. The scene. Ricky.

You quickly finished writing the blocking with a few additional notes and stuffed your pens in your backpack. You made a mental to-do list for when you got home as you walked back to Miss Jen’s office. You stopped outside and rose your hand to knock, but heard something inside before you could make a sound.

“My parents are splitting up.” You knew that voice. It took everything in your power not to gasp. “For real.” You stepped away from the door slowly, letting the voices from inside the office muffle with each step.

You weren’t meant to hear that. You shouldn’t have been listening in on their conversation. If he wanted to tell you he would have. But poor Ricky. It all made sense now. What he said at his audition. The snippets of conversation you heard when he and Nini fought. The reason he could be so despondent. Why he was so afraid of losing people.

You looked down at the copied scene in your hand. Rifling through your backpack to get a pencil, you wrote a note at the top corner of the last page.

--- taglist:

@snowman-spidey, @dinsey-chanel, @ruefulposts, @mightdielater, @ggukstoe, @wallacetdog, @onceuponafanfiction, @goodnight-n-dayglow, @prttybitchin, @loyalucas, @hxney-bunches-x, @hxzstxles, @parkeroffline, @madamestarlet, @parkerharrington, @fudgemesteveharrington, @hobistigma, @farfrom-peter, @fangeekkk, @tori-marie, @amxx44, @onceuponafanfiction, @softpeteparker, @filmqvakers, @wcnderwoo, @stitch-flo, @liberty01, @kxhliforniaa, @ilymarkchan, @complete-trash-101, @dystopianchic13​

[fyexo]

191010 SuperM Aim to Conquer America By Staying Korean

A monolithic coliseum, intimidating and gleaming in the sun, materializes in the desert like a mirage. Inside, seven men clad in black and metallics stand tall in its center, facing the thousands gathered to watch them.

The scene that opens South Korean supergroup SuperM’s debut music video, “Jopping,” is an apt metaphor for K-pop’s most buzzed-about new act — donning their armor, the gladiators prepare to take on one of the most intimidating contenders of them all: the U.S. market.

In August, Korean music juggernaut SM Entertainment, in partnership with Capitol Records and its subdivision Caroline, announced that it would debut a new K-pop supergroup featuring the cream of the crop, pulled from some of SM’s most popular active groups. These acts combined (SHINee, EXO, NCT 127, WayV) have sold more than 14 million adjusted albums and garnered nearly four billion views of their music videos. Though SM has experimented with a few supergroups in the past, this announcement was especially mind-blowing to K-pop fans, as it promised to take a cross-section of some of the very best dancers, singers, and rappers in the business — an Olympic-level performance team.

Taemin, 26, is the industry vet, who joined K-pop darling SHINee as its maknae (youngest member) in 2008. Along with a successful career in the group as its charismatic main dancer, he also has made a name for himself through his popular solo work, dramatic and often androgynous looks, and sultry vocals. From EXO — a group so revered they were chosen to perform at the 2018 PyeongChang Olympic Closing Ceremony — is SuperM’s leader Baekhyun, 27, known for his killer sense of humor and soaring tenor. Then there’s Kai, 25, the ballet-trained dancer whose secret weapon is a combination of long, sharp lines and arresting looks.

From subunits of the 21-person umbrella group, NCT, is NCT 127’s bright-faced Canadian rapper Mark, 20, and its 24-year-old charismatic leader and rapper Taeyong. And from the Chinese-language unit WayV is the quadrilingual Thai triple-threat Ten, 23, as well as 6-foot-something, 20-year-old striking Hong Kong-born rapper Lucas.

While the announcement garnered a monsoon of excitement online, it was also met with a hefty dose of skepticism and criticism. Some were upset that the activities of NCT 127, EXO, and WayV would be put on hold, and felt bad for the remaining members. But the most vocal faction seemed to float somewhere in the middle, unsure of what to make of the all-star lineup. One thing was sure: the sheer talent would be next-level. But SuperM was notably announced as group aiming to appeal to an international audience and debut in the U.S. — would that mean stripping it of its K-pop identity to make it palatable to the American mainstream?

That fear was all but quelled with one word: “Jopping.” The lead single off of SuperM’s self-titled seven-track EP is a bombastic, genre-bending dance track that blends English and Korean, and even samples the Avengers theme — apt for the self-proclaimed “Avengers of K-pop.”

K-pop can now can add “Jopping” — a blend of the words “jumping” and “popping” — to its lexicon, joining the ranks of “Boombayah,” “Dumb Litty,” and “kitty-incidence.” Not only is the title very K-pop, but the song is classic SM. In fact, it evokes a specific company-coined sonic style called SMP, or SM Music Performance, which is choreography synced with a mix of rock, R&B, and hip-hop beats.

“It's our debut single and first appearance as SuperM, so we knew that we had to do something that shows off all our best sides — whether it be our style or each of our personas and characters,” the affable Mark tells Refinery29 following SuperM’s debut Los Angeles showcase. “We knew that ‘Jopping’ had a large feeling to it and we knew that only something that big could contain our performances, our raps, our singing, and our dancing.”

It’s a bold move. Many K-pop acts looking to make it in the U.S. have opted to collaborate with big-name Stateside artists, or even release straightforward pop/hip-hop English-language songs that do everything to hide even a trace of a foreign accent. But SuperM deliberately chose to take a risk.

“Now that we’re entering the American market, we could have released a song that suits the American taste better, but that’s not what distinguishes us as a group,” says Kai, a silver Rolling Stones necklace adorning his graceful neck. “We chose ‘Jopping’ because we wanted to show something that hasn’t been done in the States. Also, given that we’ve pulled together all these great members for this kind of performance, we saw a potential in this song to captivate the world and show our identity.”

“It gives us an opportunity to show fans a variety of styles, and prove that we can pull off anything,” adds the purple-haired Taeyong.

Dig deeper into the EP, and the tracks reveal a roadmap that winds even deeper into the group’s Korean identity. Take “I Can’t Stand The Rain,” an immense electro-pop song that opens with echoing traditional Korean drums and whose chorus is cradled by a classic haegeum melody. The synthy R&B B-side “2 Fast” features a classic K-pop tempo change halfway through, slowing down during the bridge before picking up the beat and adding undulating trills of vocal distortion.

“We’re from Asia,” says cotton candy-haired Baekhyun, who's taken quickly to his leadership role. “We wanted to emphasize the harmony between Western and Asian music. That’s why the drums and haegeum are on that Westernized beat [in ‘I Can’t Stand The Rain’]. With ‘2 Fast’, the sudden change within the track is very K-pop because K-pop itself changes all the time. There’s no limitation and it takes on many different forms. This song is just another representation of that, and how we try to differentiate ourselves.”

“I’m honestly constantly learning from these six people how we can best represent SM’s history and show Americans what K-pop is,” says Lucas, who palpably relaxes when he speaks in Chinese, his native language. “I’m learning how, through this music industry, to be a vessel for spreading culture, thought, and happiness.”

And people are certainly noticing. After releasing their EP, SuperM delivered a blowout debut showcase in LA. Hundreds of roaring fans gathered to watch their first performance in Capitol Records’ backlot, which was streamed live around the world on YouTube. The group has since sat on Ellen’s couch, and announced a 10-date North American tour that includes New York City’s Madison Square Garden. It’s a promising beginning for the septet, and something that Mark didn’t think he’d ever see growing up.

“Growing up in Canada and being in the West, nobody really knew about K-pop unless they were Korean,” he says, his expressive eyes growing contemplative. “To see a Korean group like SuperM that’s so powerful, making an impact on America and sharing their energy and story, and to have Amercian fans come and run to us to see our synergy, is something I’d never thought that I’d see, nevertheless be a part of. I always try to remind myself how lucky I am to bridge two cultures together. It’s a cool moment.”

Though the EP is rumored to make a strong debut on the Billboard 200 next week, it seems unlikely that the average American will be "jopping" anytime soon. But it’s not about simply putting out songs that can dominate charts or airwaves right away — if that were the case, we'd be hearing a much more Western-sounding lead single.

It all comes back to an ethos instilled by SM’s founder and K-pop pioneer, Lee Soo Man. “I love what I heard from him yesterday,” says Ten with a quiet confidence. “Be humble, and learn from other people. Don’t put yourself above other people. Then, if you do that, you’ll rise higher without knowing.” It’s about promoting cross-cultural understanding, and hoping to change minds enough for the world to make room for what Korean culture has to offer. “K-pop itself is not just a music genre, but a whole cultural phenomenon,” says Taemin warmly. “It includes fashion, music, and so much more. When other people look at K-pop with a more traditional Western lens, or when people listen to it, it may sound like a combination of all different genres. Although it might sound unfamiliar at first, I think it's in the process of being blended into the mix of U.S. culture. Hopefully, SuperM can also make a contribution.”

source: Natalie Morin @ refinery29

[alleiradayne]

La Grange

Summary: Natalie expresses her fondness for Sam’s beard much to Dean’s ire. Square Filled: Beard Warnings/Tags: Rough oral (female receiving), beard kink, dirty talk, rough sex in general Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 1,641 A/N: For @spnkinkbingo this fills the Beard square. And as always, thank you @atc74 for your wonderful beta’ing. Song: La Grange by ZZ Top

“Why?!”

Natalie startled in her chair, her trance interrupted by Dean's sudden outburst. When she looked across the table, she found Dean glaring at Sam, his face contorted by a deep frown, a knotted brow, and raised hackles.

“Why what?” Sam asked.

Dean gesticulated wildly at his own face. “This!” He pointed at Sam's jaw. “That! It's back!”

Natalie turned to Sam, a hundred questions running through her mind. Nothing appeared out of place on Sam's face, but Dean's palpable disgust permeated the room. Even Sam's eye roll failed to shake him.

“It's just a beard,” Sam sighed under his breath as he returned to his book.

“Yeah, and you look like a damn hillbilly with it,” Dean retorted. “Didn't I say I’d get the clippers if you ever grew it out again?”

Again? “You had a beard before?” Natalie asked.

Sam glanced across the table at her. “Yeah, I’d rather not talk about it. Was a shitty couple of weeks. Didn't exactly have time to shave.”

“But you do, now,” Dean insisted. “The world isn't ending anymore.”

“Maybe I'm sick of shaving every damn day,” Sam spat. “And Jody said it looks good.”

“Jody is worse than Mom, okay. She would tell you anything looks good on you because it makes you happy,” Dean explained. “She was just being—”

“I like it.”

Dean’s glare softened to a flat stare as it slid to her. “That’s because you’re obligated.”

She shook her head. “No, I genuinely enjoy it.”

“Enjoy—” Dean started, but his teeth clicked shut when she smiled her coy smile. Sam buried his face behind a book, red from hairline to hollow as Dean’s small frown distorted so severely, Natalie wondered if his face hurt. He shoved back from the table and stood as he said, “Okay, that's gross. I didn't need to know that.”

When he disappeared around the corner to the kitchen, Natalie crooked a finger over the spine of Sam's book and pulled it down.

“Didn't mean to embarrass you.”

He chewed his cheek and the book fell from his fingers to thud on the table. An eyebrow cocked towards his hairline as he asked, “You enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile as she leaned over the corner of the table and cupped his cheek, scratching his scruff. “It looks great.”

Sam stood in a rush and rounded the end of the table as a darkness shrouded his hazel eyes. “That’s not what you meant.”

He towered over her, and the library had grown so hot, sweat beaded at the back of her neck. God, but he was huge, all shoulders and arms and chest bearing over her as he leaned. “It was,” she said, a pathetic quaver in her voice.

“No,” Sam growled as he knelt between her thighs. “I know exactly what you meant.” A deft flick of his fingers parted her jeans. “You like the way it feels.”

Natalie tried once more to maintain control as she reached out to touch his beard again. “I do like the way it feels. In my hand.”

He snatched her wrist and wrenched it from his cheek. “You like the way it feels on your thighs.” He flung her hand aside to grasp her hips and jerk her to the edge of the chair. “You like the way it feels on your stomach.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants and tugged. “You like the way it feels on your pussy.”

Fuck. That ended any research she had wanted to do that evening. No turning back after that. Her underwear had soaked through in so few words and even fewer seconds. Sam had a way about him. Terrifying power, intimidating stature, immense size—in more ways than one. But he was the consummate lover, too. Intimately aware of his strength, he erred on the side of gentle more often that not, but Sam could be exquisitely rough when she asked it of him.

But there in the library it seemed he wouldn't need any telling. He hooked his fingers into the hips of her underwear and tore off, then forced her knees wide. He licked his hungry lips as though starved, deprived of his favorite dessert for far too long. “You’re soaked, baby,” he muttered as he wrapped his arms under her thighs. “Ready for me?”

Natalie moaned a loud cry that clipped short with Sam's hand clamped over her mouth. “You sound ready,” he said as he checked over his shoulder. “But I doubt Dean wants to hear me eating out that pretty little cunt of yours until you come all over my face. So I'm just gonna keep my hand right here while I get to work. Sound good, honey?”

Natalie nodded with a whimper muted by his massive hand. Try as she might to keep quiet, she simply couldn't. Sam's beard rasped along her inner thigh as he dragged a trail of kisses from knee to groin. And once at the center, he wasted no time in devouring her. Lips sealed on her sex and his free hand found her asshole, teasing the rim. Thank God for his hand over her mouth. The entire city of Lebanon might have heard her otherwise. He sucked and licked and teased her flesh as though his life depended on it. Fucking hell, but it actually just might be in danger. If he kept doing that thing with his tongue pressed so firmly against her clit and laving down to her pussy, she might drown him.

But all that paled in comparison to the rough scrape of his beard on her thighs. Sam had been so right; she loved the raw skin, the grind on her pussy as he worked his tongue into her, and oh, God, when he sucked her into his mouth, heaven and hell had nothing on Sam Winchester's beard.

It all culminated for an orgasm that, rather than building over time, burst in a shower of dancing lights behind her eyes squeezed shut. Her muffled cries behind Sam's hard grip on her face mirrored his own, hummed into her flesh. She reached out for him, desperate for something to ground her floundering consciousness as she unraveled and found his hair. Warm wet slicked her thighs, spread by his working jaw and coarse hair as Sam slurped and sucked her clean.

When he withdrew from her, the cold air of the Bunker ran a chill up her spine, and Sam laughed deep in his chest. His hand dropped from her face as he said, “I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?”

His devious glare returned to the mess between her thighs. Delicate fingertips teased her irritated skin as his other hand stroked the bulge of his erection through his jeans. “I didn’t know you liked my beard because of this.”

“I said I liked the way it looks on you,” Natalie stated.

His gaze snapped back to her eyes, and in that dark look, Natalie knew she was in for a very long night. “You only come that hard when I fuck you. Before I grew out my beard, oral seemed… less stimulating for you.”

Two massive fingers slipped between her lips and penetrated her so suddenly, Natalie gasped. “I swear, I just like the way it looks.”

“Liar,” he declared as he thrust his fingers into her.

“Holy shit, Sam, I… I’m not lying, you look great,” she stuttered.

Sam thrust harder, the slap of his hand against her flesh echoing through the library. “You’re full of shit, Talie. You love it when I’m rough with you. Beard-burn while I eat you out? Of course, you’d love that.”

She shook her head, unable to focus with his thick fingers pounding her cunt. “I’m… I swear… oh, God, Sam, that feels so good, but I swear, I—”

“Quit lying,” he demanded. “Tell me you like my beard on your pussy. Tell me you like how rough it is on your thighs. Tell me you love feeling it on your ass when you ride my face.”

Another relentless orgasm surged through her, and Natalie moaned a long high whine. “Fuck, Sam, I’m gonna… I’m…”

“That’s it, baby girl, come for me,” he cooed as he leaned into her, lips against hers. He plied her with kisses, lips and tongue leaving a trail of wet from her mouth, along her neck to her chest.

Fuck, but he was right. So very right. Dear, God, it happened again. The rough hair of his beard teased her skin, the crook of her neck and her cleavage particularly susceptible to his tactics. He lingered between her breasts, the collar of her shirt stretched by his crooked finger. That rough scrape on her skin so sensitive ripped the orgasm from her without any preamble, without any build up or any slow release. Her entire body seized, frozen as she hunched over him and clung to his hair.

His hair. Son of a bitch, all that glorious hair.

His fingers slowed and his lips eased from her breasts. “Okay, Sam,” Natalie sighed as she slumped in the chair, “you win.”

His gaze lifted to hers as he spoke. “Yes?”

“I love your beard on my skin," she moaned.

Sam dipped his head between her thighs once more as a wicked gleam ripped the floor from beneath her feet. The rough sting of his beard returned and another high whimper burst from her lips. The tip of his tongue slipped between his lips to tease at hers, parting them to draw delicate circles around her swollen clit.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I'm nowhere near done eating you out, yet, honey. In fact, I'm starving. Ready?"

Natalie shook her head as she whimpered again. "No."

His massive hand clamped over her mouth once more.

"Too bad. I am."

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN KINK BINGO MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox@wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78@staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44@4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx@blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons

[astarisms]

lacuna

pairing: natan word count: 8154 summary: for better, for worse. in sickness, in health. she had taken those vows, even if he didn’t remember it, and she would not break them. all human amnesia au.  notes: this is a project that’s been three years in the making. it will be in three parts (that will come later), but i thought natan week was the perfect opportunity to finally post it. i finished this part in 2016 and haven’t edited it, so it will also follow how my writing has changed since i started this project. i hope you all enjoy, and happy @natanweek! :)

saudade

(n.) a nostalgic longing to be near 

again to something or someone that 

is distant, or that has been loved and 

then lost; “the love that remains”

origin: portuguese

The steady tone of the heart monitor was what had eventually coaxed her to sleep every night for three days. It was the comfort, the constant reassurance that he was here and he was alive and that the fear that had nearly brought her to her knees when she’d gotten the call was unfounded. 

It was only fitting that it would be the heart monitor that woke her as well — but there was something wrong. Before opening her eyes, she just listened for it, the confirmation of his life, but the timing was off. It was faster than the tone that had been ingrained in her mind, consumed every sleeping and waking moment.

She shot up, immediately alert and prepared for the worst, her eyes darting to the hospital bed that took up the middle of the room where he’d been, unmoving, since he’d come out of surgery. Except now there was a twitch to his fingers, a turn to his head, a murmur on his lips. 

She realized then that the change in the heart monitor wasn’t a bad thing, but a good one. Her eyes burned but she pushed back the urge to cry, making her way out of the room as quickly as she could without tripping over all the machines and yelling for a nurse, her voice breaking tearfully. 

Within moments the small room was filled, nurses rushing in and talking to each other in terms Natalie couldn’t understand. His doctor was next, side by side with another nurse mumbling something about paging the surgeon. 

Unable to breathe with so many people in such a small space, and unable to see him anyways with the crowd that had gathered around him, Natalie stepped out into the hall and leaned against the wall beside the door. 

She sighed shakily, looking down at her hands without really seeing them, her vision blurring. She twisted her wedding band around her finger anxiously, trying to ease the thundering of her heart and the racing of her thoughts. 

Was he okay? How did he feel? Was it too soon? Could they go home and finally put this nightmare behind them?

The questions were endless, circling round and round, taunting her as much as the noise in the room behind her was, reminding her that they were there to see him wake up and she was out in the hall. 

Hearing a low groan beneath several overpowering voices, Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, taking several deep breaths to keep the relieved tears at bay. 

Flashes of that night, curled on the couch to wait up for him, watching some cheesy TV movie, cold pizza waiting for him on the counter. Her phone ringing and absentmindedly reaching over to answer it without glancing at the caller ID. Ipos’s voice, usually so chill and smiling, solemn in her ear, straining like it would break. Horror settling in her bones like ice, immobilizing her. Ipos’s voice vague and distant in her ear, something about having sent Zoe to pick her up and take her to the hospital already. 

It had undoubtedly been the worst night of her entire life. They had already taken him in for emergency surgery when Zoe had dropped her off, and the wait had been agonizing. Hours without any updates. Hours of replaying every moment with him. Hours of being stricken with the thought that their goodbyes that morning had been goodbye in the most literal sense. 

The relief when they’d told her he was stable was palpable, but there was a catch — he was unconscious, and they had little to no idea when he would wake up.

Three days had felt like an eternity, but now she was grateful that that was all the time it had taken for him to regain his consciousness. She couldn’t imagine if she had had to wait much longer — three days had made her restless enough.

She lowered her hands from her eyes, turning to peer inside the room when she heard his voice, rough with pain and misuse. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, and she could only catch glimpses of him from where she stood, but it was enough. It was a confirmation she couldn’t get from heart monitors, or the gentle rise and fall of his chest.  

He was awake. He was okay. They would go home soon and he would recover the rest of the way there and everything would go back to normal.

She stared down at the floor, trying to catch bits of the conversation, but the doctor’s voice was too low. She didn’t know what the verdict was yet, she didn’t know how close he was to recovering, but he was awake, and that had to be good news.

After all, waking up had been the last obstacle they’d had to face. His recovery, slow as it may be, they would conquer together at home.

After several minutes, people started to file out of the room one by one. Natalie moved to the side as much as she could while still peering into the room, more and more of him revealed to her as the room cleared.

The doctor remained by his bedside even as the last nurse finished adjusting his IV and left. Natalie, feeling lighter than she had in days and with a bounce in her step, walked back into the room and to the doctor’s side. 

He looked from the doctor to her, all sharp lines and tired brown eyes, and she couldn’t help her watery laugh.

“You scared the crap out of me, dude,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to take his hand.

“Uh, Mrs. Dev-”

“Who the hell are you-” 

“Mr. Devante, please, a moment-”

“Did you just say missus?”

Natalie was a bit stunned by the swiftness of everything — Lucifer pulling his hand away from her as if he’d been burned, sending her a suspicious look. The overlapping voices, their exact words taking a second for her to process. She could only stare with wide eyes, unsure what was happening.

“I — What?”

“Mrs. Devante, I had meant to speak with you before you came in, because I felt this might be the case as soon as we spoke.”

Her chest constricted with the implications of his solemn tone. 

“W… What might be the case?” she asked, hesitantly, afraid of the question itself just as much as the answer.

“I’m afraid I think your hus— Mr. Devante has a case of amnesia.” He looked between the two of them, to ensure Lucifer didn’t feel like he was being talked about instead of talked to. 

He kept talking, something about how it was not a surprising turn of events after brain surgery, something about not being able to tell if or when his memories would return, something about hope and therapy but Natalie heard none of it, her world closing in on her.

Suddenly she found it hard to breathe. Her vision swam and her ears rang and she barely heard her own voice cut off the doctor.

“He doesn’t…” She turned to look at her husband of 5 years. Her best friend of even longer. So many years… “You don’t remember me?” 

He shook his head.

... gone. 

It felt like a slap in the face.

“...Are you sure?” It was a stupid question, she knew it even as it slipped past her trembling lips, she knew it even without the look on his face that told her he thought it was a stupid question. And though it was silly, though it was a little breathless and desperate, in that moment it was all she had. 

“I’m sure.”

“...Oh.”

“Mrs. Devante-”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” Lucifer snapped, glowering between the two of them. The doctor looked alarmed for a second, before looking to Natalie inquiringly. 

“I...I’m your wife. Natalie. Your wi-”

“Bullshit.” Natalie flinched, and floundered, unable to think of a reply in the wake of his harsh tone. He looked to the doctor. “Could you stop calling her that?”

“Um-” The greying man glanced at Natalie again, cautiously.

“...My, uh… Natalie is fine,” she said softly, eyes dropping from Lucifer’s irritated expression to the stark white sheets. 

“Ah, well, yes. Perhaps it’s better if we let Mr. Devante get his rest? After all, proper rest is key to a speedy recovery.”

“Haven’t I been resting enough?” Lucifer scoffed, but settled back into the pillows anyways.

“A coma is not the same as resting. We’ll get you some food soon, to see what you’re able to keep down as well.”

Lucifer grunted, but otherwise didn’t reply. 

The doctor touched Natalie’s arm, and she scrambled off the bed. 

“Right. Um, I hope you uh, rest… well,” she said, stumbling over her words and avoiding his eyes, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice but doing her best to mask the hurt regardless.

She turned and ducked out of the room as quickly as she could, the doctor on her heels. He shut the door softly behind them and turned to look at her. 

“Is — is it permanent?” she asked, quietly even though Lucifer was well out of earshot now. She looked up at him with big, hopeful green eyes, and he really wished he could give her a different answer. 

“There’s no way of telling,” he said slowly. “It could be permanent,” Natalie took a shuddering breath, and he hurried to continue, “but there’s also a chance he could regain them, quickly or over time. It’s a matter of circumstance. Every situation is different.”

She nodded slowly, glancing at the door and wrapping her arms around herself. He had been in this field for too long, and was good at recognizing the signs of her resolving herself now to face what laid ahead.

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“I’m sorry there’s nothing more we can do,” he added sincerely. Natalie gave him a bright smile, but he’d seen a lot of those too — it broke his heart to note that hers was one of the most authentic, if a little strained, like she hadn’t had to use her perfected grin in some time.

“You’ve done so much already. Thank you. Him being okay is the most important thing.” 

He nodded, his years of experience betraying him when he was unable to find a way to comfort her. 

“My pleasure, Mrs. Dev—”

“Please,” she said, a shaky exhale. “Just — could you call me Natalie?” 

“Of course.” Her smile this time looked a little more genuine. “I’ll leave you to it, Natalie.”

She nodded, and he left her alone in the hallway. She sighed and pursed her lips, trying to decide what she should do next.

Calling Ipos was the first thing that came to mind — he and Sheila would be happy to hear that Lucifer was awake. She reached down to grab her phone before she remembered it was in his room, charging beside the cot she’d made a home out of during her stay since she’d refused to leave his side since she’d arrived. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing to the door and debating whether or not it was worth it, before deciding she was being silly. She braced herself, and cracked the door open, peering inside. 

He looked like he was asleep. 

Creeping inside, she tried to be as quiet as possible. She made it halfway across the room before he grunted, and she froze, turning slowly to look at him. He was staring at her with none of the warmth of the brown eyes she had fallen in love with a hundred times over, brows drawn.

“I — s-sorry, I was just grabbing my…” she trailed off, gesturing instead. He rolled his head to look at the small pile of her stuff, his gaze narrowing. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes again.

“Just get it.” 

She made herself quick about grabbing it, and turned to walk out, but thought twice and spun back around to grab her jacket off the top of her bag. She tugged it on as she manuevered carefully around the small room and all its machines and wires, and she tried very hard to keep her nose in the screen and not glance back at him, but her body betrayed her.

She chanced a look at him, and seeing him lying there peacefully, she was overcome with emotion. It didn’t matter that he no longer had his lush, dark hair. It didn’t matter that a scar stretched across his scalp. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the same man she married. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember her.

She was overwhelmed with emotion, with the relief that he was alive, that he was breathing, that his eyes were closed of his own will and not the result of his head injury and the surgery that followed to save his life. 

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her, and she threw caution to the wind as she rushed the last few steps from the room. She shut the door as softly as she could with trembling fingers, not noticing that he was staring at her.

Once out in the hallway, she was at a loss — bathroom, she needed the bathroom, but she had been using the one in his room and she didn’t know where the public one was. Her vision blurred and her head swam and she stumbled down a random hallway in search for it.

After she’d turned down the third hallway with no results, she leaned against the wall, breath shuddering. She slid down until she touched the floor, buried her face in her pulled-up knees, and let the dam break.

She sobbed, everything she’d been repressing for the past three days bursting forth. She felt everything she hadn’t let herself all at once — the frantic worry, the crippling fear, the indescribable pain, and most prominently the overpowering relief. She felt it all pulse through her with so much force it hurt. 

She hadn’t been able to think as optimistically as she’d pretended. Several what if’s taunted her every waking moment and visions of life without him made her dreams bleed with terror and grief. 

The vision of him, pale and breathing shallowly, blood matting his hair to the back of his head and curling down the sides of his face and staining the pillow crimson and his body limp and broken and vulnerable in a way she had never seen him — was one created entirely of her own imagination. She hadn’t actually seen him after that accident, he’d already been taken back for surgery by the time she’d reached the hospital, but the image her own mind conjured had haunted her every moment since.

But none of that mattered anymore. None of it. Because he was okay, she couldn’t reassure herself enough that he was fine, that besides a few lost memories the doctor had said he would likely make a full recovery. And that — that was enough for her. It had to be.

As her sobs died down, she heaved on the floor of the deserted hallway, shaking and exhausted. She was no stranger to bottling her emotions, but it had been a long time since she’d had to keep some that roiled so violently within her under lock and key.

She jumped when she heard the rustling of someone sitting beside her, and looked up into a pair of warm, familiar eyes. Ipos didn’t say anything, he just offered his silent presence. Feeling better with the company, she sniffled and wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket. 

They were silent for a minute, the only sounds in the barren hallway Natalie’s shuddered breathing and sniffles as she attempted to compose herself again.

“H-How did you find me?” she finally asked. Ipos shrugged, leaning back against the wall. 

“A few nurses pointed me in the right direction.”

“I — Is Sheila…?”

“She’s in his room. Told her I’d bring you by as soon as I found you.”

“Liar.” Ipos glanced over at her, a smirk turning up his lips. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Natalie giggled, sitting up straighter, “We should go back, before I make a dishonest man out of you.”

Ipos laughed quietly, but it faded out when Natalie stood up.

“You sure?” 

He wasn’t a man of many words, but Natalie knew what he meant — was she ready? To face him again? To endure his lost memory? To handle the loss of his love?

“Yeah,” Natalie said, sobering up. 

Ipos only nodded, and stood to walk her back.

***

Natalie would be lying if she claimed the last few days hadn’t taken their toll on her. She was exhausted and trying to stay optimistic just wore her down more.

Attempting to keep smiling when he would barely so much as look at her, trying to laugh when he recounted old stories with Sheila and Ipos that she’d heard a million times over, keeping the tears at bay every waking moment — she was just about ready to collapse. 

Ever since he’d woken up, she’d spent her nights at home. He didn’t like the idea of her being there when he didn’t know her. She understood, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t felt like a slap in the face.

That didn’t mean trying to sleep in their bed alone didn’t feel cold and empty.

She’d taken to sleeping on the couch instead, and she busied herself during the day trying to prepare for his homecoming. Keeping herself distracted from her own thoughts had become a struggle, so she put all her leftover energy into cleaning, blasting music and singing along just as loudly to drown out the negativity that tried to pull her under.

But he was coming home today, and she would be optimistic if it killed her. He was going through enough, and she was going to make his transition back into his life as easy as possible.

She made sure everything was where it belonged and dabbed concealer over the dark circles beneath her eyes before she set off to the hospital to pick him up, equal parts excited and nervous. She was hoping a familiar environment would trigger some of his old memories, but she was also trying not to get her hopes up.

The doctor had warned her there was a chance he would never regain them, anyways. So Natalie was resolutely devoted to keeping this whole ordeal about him — he was the one who was injured, he was the one whose life had been thrown completely off-kilter, he was the one who needed the help.

Her own problems could wait, because him recovering was the big picture and she wouldn’t lose sight of that. She would nudge him in the right direction, but she wouldn’t pressure him to remember. Not when he had bigger things to worry about.

Her stout optimism was tested the moment she stopped outside his door, though. She heard him, inside, arguing.

“Why can’t I crash at your place?” A beat of silence accompanied by the sinking of Natalie’s heart. Of course, she should have known he wouldn’t want to come home with her — after all, to him, she was a complete stranger.

“C’mon, Ipos, this— no, listen, I’ll sleep on that shit-stained couch, I — wait, what? You moved? You big fuck, when did that happen?”

She figured she’d been eavesdropping long enough, and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and poking her head inside.

“Hey,” she said, gently, not wanting to risk his temper. He tensed, and Natalie tried not to let her smile waver. “I brought you a change of clothes, for whenever you’re ready…” 

“Yeah, okay,” he said gruffly, and jerked his chin towards the end of the bed. “You can just set them there.” She walked over, setting the bag where he’d indicated and soothing it out.

“Just… whenever you’re ready,” she repeated, sincerely, trying to catch his eyes. He refused to look at her, however. She bit back her disheartened sigh, and stepped back. “Just let me know, okay? I’ll be outside.”

He nodded once, and she clasped her hands in front of her tightly to keep them from shaking as she retreated once more, with the sinking feeling that retreating from him — her best friend, her confidant — was going to be the norm very soon. 

She stopped once the door closed behind her again and after a moment of hesitation, she pressed her ear against it as he resumed his conversation with Ipos.

“I don’t know…” she heard him say, and there was an uncertainty in his voice that she hadn’t expected given the demanding and abrasive tone he’d had before she interrupted. “I don’t know her.”

Her breath shook as she exhaled, and she turned her face to the ceiling to blink back the tears. There was a long silence on his end, and she almost turned away when he spoke again, a bit of the edge from before back.

“I don’t know if I can remember her. I don’t know if I can love her.”

Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the pained gasp she wasn’t sure he could hear anyways but didn’t want to risk, and she spun around and fled before he could catch her, before she could hear anything else she didn’t want to.

That was her karma for eavesdropping, she supposed, as she felt her already fragile heart shatter into pieces.

This time, her search for the bathroom didn’t result in an abandoned hallway, but instead found her bowed over the sink, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes, her head throbbing as she resisted the overwhelming desire to cry.

She needed to get it together. She couldn’t react like this every time he said something that stung — it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t being malicious, but that he was understandably very confused and disoriented and that she would be put off, too, if she woke up with no memory of a person claiming to be married to her.

She took several steadying breaths to compose herself, then slowly peeled her hands from her face. Her eyes were a little red, so she grabbed a paper towel and dampened it with cool water. She dabbed it gently beneath her eyes in hopes of making the swelling go down a little.

Once she decided she was presentable enough to brave the waiting room again, she slipped from the bathroom and traveled the short distance to the lobby where she could wait on him to get changed and sign the release forms. 

He, thankfully, didn’t keep her waiting as long as she had expected him to. He emerged from his room within half an hour, and though he didn’t seem thrilled at the idea of coming home with her, he didn’t say anything against it, either as he signed his discharge forms, dropping his bag by his feet.

His doctor was giving him some final instructions about bed rest and not over-exerting himself — “that means you’re gonna be out of commission for awhile, Lucifer, and I’ve already talked to your chief about how long you need to stay out,” he’d said, to which Lucifer scowled but nodded.

Natalie was lingering, not close enough to make Lucifer anymore uncomfortable but enough to overhear. The graying man caught her eyes a few times and she nodded subtly in response, because they both knew Lucifer was too reckless and restless to follow the strict orders unless he was watched.

“We’ll have your follow up in about a month, alright? It should be pretty routine, but if you notice anything unusual please come in immediately regardless.” Lucifer nodded absently, it was clear he wasn’t listening anymore, itching to not be cooped up anymore.

Natalie’s apologetic smile was tired and strained but she waited silently while the doctor looked over the forms Lucifer handed him back to confirm his release.

“Looks like you’re good to go,” he said, glancing at the last page. “Though I’d prefer if you used a wheelchair. You just had surgery.” He sighed at the look he was given, and conceded. “Just remember all I told you, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” The doctor shared a look with Natalie and she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. Even without the amnesia, Lucifer had always been impartial to hospitals, especially for long periods of time.

“All packed up?” she asked after the older man wished them a safe trip home and took his leave, a hesitant tease since all he really had was the clothes on his back and a few of his favorite books she’d brought for him. 

He hummed in acknowledgment and scooped up his bag. Natalie pursed her lips, but didn’t push his lack of a reply. Instead, she folded her arms over her stomach and followed him as he made his way to the elevator. 

The ride down was silent. Natalie had several things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to bring them up and she wasn’t prepared for more of his rejection just yet. So she kept quiet and when the elevators opened on the ground floor he strolled out ahead of her, then stopped.

His brows were furrowed, clearly frustrated as he looked down at her. She didn’t know what she could’ve possibly done wrong this time, all she’d done was walk beside him, until —

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Where’s the car?” he asked, an exasperated edge to his voice. 

“O-Oh, right, I’ll go pull it around—”

“That’s not necessary. That’ll just take more time.”

“You shouldn’t walk too far, though, the doctor said—”

“I had surgery, I’m not crippled. I can walk to the fucking car,” he snapped, and Natalie flinched. He looked away from her, and his tensed shoulders slumped a little in what she recognized as regret for losing his temper, but he didn’t offer an apology. 

“...Right,” she said after a beat, and hated how her voice wavered. “Sorry, I’ll — it’s this way.”

She took the lead and was glad for it, because if he was behind her he couldn’t see the way her expression crumbled as her smile became too exhausting to fake anymore. The parking garage wasn’t far, but it was a pain to navigate and she tried in earnest to get him to the car as quickly as possible without the short trip being too much for him.

When it came into sight, she fished her keys out and unlocked the doors, moving to get in. She paused briefly when she noticed his uncertain expression and the slight sheen on his forehead, and she wished she’d just made him stay put in the lobby so she could have brought the car to him instead.

She didn’t have time to linger on it, however. He tugged the door open and slid in, careful not to hit his head, and she got in and started the car, eager to get them home.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat and Natalie found herself distracted by the possibilities of what would happen once he was home as she put the car in reverse and took the wheel with both hands.

Would he hate it? Would the familiar environment rattle something within him? Would it fail and only serve as a bitter reminder of his lost memories? 

She couldn’t say. She didn’t know what to expect, and while she was usually fond of surprises, this one worried her. 

She shifted in the driver’s seat uncomfortably, her fingers tapping a nervous beat against the wheel. She hated driving, and preferred taking the bus or walking or leaving it to him, which was ironic considering the first time they’d met he had pulled her over for speeding.

Her accident about a year after they’d been dating had really put things in perspective for her, however, and even though she had walked away from it physically sound, she had been shaken.

The drive home lasted for what felt like forever, but when she finally pulled into the driveway she kept her eyes firmly in front of her until she'd parked. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, before she released it and chanced a look at him.

He was staring up at their house with the same familiarity he had greeted her with — or rather, lack thereof. 

“This is it,” she said, trying for enthusiastic but not wanting to come off overbearingly so, and wiped her hands on her jeans. She tried not to linger too long on his unimpressed expression. 

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember them picking this out together because it was in their budget even though it had almost nothing they’d wanted. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember many of their days off spent together making this house their home. It wasn’t his fault that the walls he’d so looked forward to coming into at the end of a long day were now unrecognizable to him. It wasn’t his fault and she had to keep reminding herself of that.

He made the first move to get out of the car, finally tearing his eyes away, and she scrambled out after him. She wanted to get his bag for him, but he grabbed it before she could get to it and turned away without a second glance.

She bit her tongue and followed him up the short distance to their front door, fumbling with the keys while he stood off to the side, annoyed and impatient. Once she got it open, a feat with her sweaty, nervous fingers, she gestured for him to go in first. He gave her a look but obliged and she followed after him, shutting the door softly behind them.

He stood just inside, looking around at the odd decoration and the abundance of potted plants, not sure what to make of it all. Natalie decided to give him a moment, not wanting to rush him. 

She noticed his gaze fall to a small table that she’d decorated with photos of them and their friends. She couldn’t help the rush of hope she felt, especially the longer he stared at them — pictures of them when they were dating, one a friend had snapped when they had told everyone they were engaged, one of their wedding. Surely, surely they had to trigger something? 

She didn’t dare breathe, digging her nails into her palms as her chest swelled when he reached for them…

...and she felt herself deflate, the air rushing out of her like a balloon and taking the hope she’d let consume her for that brief moment with it when he grabbed their wedding picture and turned it down, until it rested facedown on the table where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

Natalie’s heart twisted painfully, and her smile became more difficult to uphold. She stepped in front of him, quickly so he wouldn’t see her expression crumble. It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” she offered, walking deeper into their home.

“Can you just show me where I’m staying?” he said gruffly. “I don’t really feel like getting the whole grand tour right now.” 

She froze midstep. She swallowed hard, but nodded, and turned for the bedrooms.

“Yeah, of course. It’s… it’s this way.”

The heavy thud of his footsteps behind her matched the painful beat of her heart in her chest as she guided him to the end of the short hallway. 

She opened the door at the end to the master bedroom and moved to the side so he could step in.

“This is our—” she didn’t miss the wrinkle of his nose at her choice of words, and she looked away, “—bedroom. I… You can stay, or, you can have it. I mean, it’s already yours, but I can — I’ll stay in the guest room.”

She felt him staring, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes this time.

“The, uh, the bathroom is just through that door,” she said, gesturing lamely. And I’ll be staying in, um… in the guest bedroom. If you need anything.” She tilted her head back down the hall. “It’s the second on the left.”

He nodded in her peripheral, and she turned to leave, fingers curling around the knob.

“I’ll let you get settled in, then.” 

The door clicked softly on her way out, and she crossed the short distance to her new bedroom. With one last look towards their room, she slipped inside and leaned heavily against the door. Her knees buckled and she allowed herself to slide down, until she hit the ground.

Her breath shuddered and she pulled her legs up, until she could rest her face in her knees. Exhausted, she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed past the pounding in her head, refusing the urge to cry.

They would get past this. They had always gotten past everything, together. This obstacle was inarguably their biggest one yet, but they would figure it out. She had to believe they would. She couldn’t give up so easily. 

Their wedding picture, turned down, flashed in her mind and a tear slipped unbidden down her cheek. That had been the first thing she’d decorated with. That had been a constant since they had moved in. She had put it by the door in case of an argument where one of them would leave angry — when they came back in, that picture served to remind them to leave their anger and work to fix things instead. 

She sucked in a breath and raised her head, swiping angrily at her face and glaring at the moisture that came away on her fingers. 

Things were different now. He was different now. Years of the experiences that had changed and shaped him were gone, but the man she had fallen in love with was still in there. She just had to remind him of the woman he had fallen in love with.

She couldn’t rush him, though. She knew that much. She couldn’t imagine how strange this all must have been for him, and she wanted to make the transition as easy as possible.

It would take time, but they had all the time in the world. 

But first, baby steps.

***

“What are you doing?” 

Natalie jumped, turning away from the stove to face him and laying a hand over her heart. She opened her mouth, ready to crack a joke about how he still managed to sneak up on her after all these years, but she caught herself and thought better of it.

“Making breakfast,” she answered instead. They’d had takeout for lunch and dinner, she thought it would be nice for him to have something homemade instead. “Chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite!” 

She could tell by the look on his face that he was skeptical about them being his ‘favorite’, but they promised chocolate and if there was one thing that would never change about her husband it was his unwavering love of chocolate. 

She turned back to the stove, a smile tugging at her lips. At least she could get something right. 

She slid the last one onto a plate and dropped a small square of butter on top of the stack, then carried it and the syrup over to him. 

He looked down at the plate, less than impressed by the ugly pancakes with jagged edges and the burnt splotches. 

“Bon appetit!” she said cheerfully, and Lucifer looked up at her, then back down to the pathetic pile of vaguely circular and questionably edible pancakes before him. 

“...Thanks,” he muttered, and grabbed the syrup, deciding that if he drowned them in it then they couldn’t possibly be as bad as they looked. 

He cut into the stack and lifted the bite to his mouth. He choked around the taste, and for a moment, he tried to get it down, he really did. He gave up on that effort, though, instead grabbing a napkin and spitting it out, wiping his mouth. 

“That bad, huh?” Natalie asked, and he looked up at her. She didn’t look surprised or upset, just disappointed and a little sheepish. “Sorry. I’m not a great cook. It’s funny, you used to—” she stopped herself by taking his plate once she realized what she had done. 

It was too late, though, and he stood up with an unreadable expression. Natalie frowned, and moved to apologize, but he cut her off. 

“Don’t forget to turn the stove off,” he said, and disappeared back down the hallway towards their — his — room. She stood staring after him, and set his plate back on the table. 

“Way to go,” she murmured to herself, leaning against a chair, her knuckles going white around the back of it. Every time she thought she was making progress she slipped up and ruined it. 

Chewing on her lip, she spun around and flicked the stove off, hating the reminder he’d given her that he’d given her so often before, each time more teasing than the last. 

Turn the stove off, Natalie. 

I have nightmares about you leaving that thing on.

The guys over at the fire station will never let me live it down if they find out my wife set a fire.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, laughing to herself. He had hated her cooking and he always told her he refused to eat anything she made, though she knew he would do anything if she asked, he just had to put up the right show of resistance first. He had always gone out to check that the stove was off before coming to bed with her, and she had always rolled her eyes and teased him about it.

I didn’t even use the stove today, Lucifer.

You attract so much bad luck it wouldn’t surprise me if it turned on just because you looked at it.

You’re such a jerk.

She grabbed his plate again and dumped the contents in the trash, along with the extras she’d made for herself. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She rinsed the dishes off and dropped them in the dishwasher and then cleaned up the mess she’d made. 

It didn’t take long, even as she tried to devote more time and attention to it than necessary just to keep her hands busy, to do something because she felt so useless. She had taken the week off for work, to help him get settled again, but she wasn’t so sure if she’d need the whole week if he didn’t even want to talk to her. She dried her hands and cast the towel onto the counter, sighing.

She turned to look around the small space for something to do, and her eyes fell on the photo of them pinned to the fridge. She walked over, slipping her fingers beneath it to get a better look, thumbing the edges tenderly. She’d surprised him that day at work. She’d snuck up on him, kissed his cheek, and snapped a picture to catch his reaction. 

Her teeth worried her lip for a moment while she hesitated, and then she yanked it off. She went in search of a box, and once she found one a decent enough size, she dropped the photo in there. Then, she made her way to the living room, where she swiped all the photos of them into it. She made her way through every room except their bedroom, taking all evidence of their memories together down to shut them away.

She would show him later, she would revisit them with him, she promised herself. But she would take them down for now. She wouldn’t make him look at them every day.

She wouldn’t make him regret coming home.

The box and all their pictures found a new home beneath her bed. All except their wedding picture. She set that one up carefully on the nightstand, so at least she could look at it. She dusted her hands off, but once she stepped out of the room she immediately felt like she wasn’t even in her own home anymore. 

It felt empty, impersonal, cold without their lives playing out over the walls. She looked over her shoulder, at his shut door, then at the clock. It was almost time for him to take his medicine, and she knew he needed to eat in order to do that.

Maybe she could make up for breakfast.

She started for the bedroom, going to tell him she was leaving, but her fingers hovered over the knob. She blinked at it, then looked up when she heard his voice coming from inside.

“—tried to kill me with those fucking pancakes, I swear,” she heard, and she covered her mouth with her hand, torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to cry. “It’s not funny, Ipos, I—”

His voice faded and she decided that was enough eavesdropping, backing away from the door. She’d leave a note instead for him to find, if he even noticed she was gone. She’d be back in less than ten minutes anyways, if traffic wasn’t horrible.��

She found an old bill and scribbled “Be right back” on the back of the envelope, leaving it on the table just inside the door. She snatched the keys up and slipped outside.

Traffic wasn’t bad, just as she’d hoped, and she was at the small bakery in no time. The bell jingled welcomingly when she walked through the door, immediately consumed in the warmth and pleasant smells.

Rosenfeld Bakery. It was his favorite place. The interior was a play on the name, decorated with roses Natalie’s shop supplied now and small, old frames of rose fields. They’d found it years ago and nothing else they tried ever compared to the little shop, tucked into a corner. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Devante!” the owner, Anthea, greeted from behind the counter. 

“Good morning,” she smiled, relieved at the friendly face, and walked over.

“The usual? Where’s Lucifer?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she said, and dropped her eyes to the display. “He’s, ahh… He’s at home. Could you add one of those eclairs, too?” 

“An eclair? You making up for something?” Anthea teased. It was rare she saw one without the other. Natalie laughed, but it sounded breathless, forced.

“Something like that.” 

Anthea frowned, setting the bag on the counter between them. Natalie fished out a bill and pushed it across, pulling the bag more towards her instead.

“Is everything alright?”

It took Natalie a long moment to answer as Anthea rung her up, waiting for her answer with a concerned crease in her brows. Was everything alright? Not really.

But…

“It will be,” she finally said, raising her eyes to meet Anthea’s. She smiled at her and gathered up the bag of Lucifer’s favorite breakfast, turning to leave. “Keep the change!” she called over her shoulder, and walked out before Anthea could even get a word in.

Her return home was even quicker. She was excited, because her cooking was a longshot, she’d known that from the beginning, but she was sure this was something he could appreciate. 

She hurried inside, the warm bag tucked against her side, and travelled back into the kitchen. She pulled down another plate and arranged the chocolate-cinnamon rolls he ate religiously in one half, and put the double chocolate eclair on the other half. Smiling to herself, she made her way back towards their — his — room.

She knocked lightly on the door, and waited for a few excruciating moments.

“Lucifer?” she finally asked, and there was another beat of silence before she heard shuffling and finally the door opened up.

His eyes dropped down to the plate almost immediately, and then back up to her. She saw the skeptical arch of his brow, even as his eyes kept dropping back to the plate. It looked a lot better than what she’d presented to him earlier, she knew.

“A peace offering,” she offered as an explanation. “I know this is hard for you and I’m probably not making it any easier, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong here. I didn’t make it,” she added quickly when she saw his lip twitch as he undoubtedly remembered the disaster pancakes.

He stared at her for a minute longer, before taking the plate.

“Where did you get it?”

“Rosenfeld’s. It’s a bakery on the corner of 5th.” He was halfway to lifting one of the rolls to his mouth when he paused.

“Never heard of it.”

“We uh… we found it a few years ago,” she said slowly, cautiously, not wanting to upset him. She watched his expression carefully as she added, “It’s a bit of a hole in a wall, but it’s really good.” 

Something in his eyes darkened, and he nodded and set the roll back down. 

“Thanks,” he said, but there was an undefinable edge to his voice and he was unable to meet her eyes now. She felt a piece of her break away, screaming, wondering what she could say if everything about his likes or interests when she knew him was apparently off the table. She was trying to help.

Didn’t he want to remember? 

“...Yeah, of-of course. You, um, you have to take your medicine at 11:30.”

“I know.”

“I just thought I’d remind you, just in case.” She shifted uncomfortably, not sure whether she should try to catch his eyes or avoid them altogether. “I know you need something to eat with it, but if you… if you don’t want that there’s cereal and stuff in the kitchen. You’re more the welcome to help yourself.”

“I don’t need you to fucking babysit me, Natalie,” he said, and even he seemed surprised at how harsh his voice had been, but he didn’t make a move to apologize. Despite herself, it was the first time she’d heard him say her name since he’d woken up, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m a grown man, I know how to take care of myself.” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. She felt her stomach drop. Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists in an attempt to keep him from seeing her shaking hands. Her heart beat a thunderous beat against her ribcage and the blood rushing through her ears was deafening. 

She looked up at him, and he was looking at her now. There was harsh dip between his brows, his light brown eyes angry, tensed against the doorframe. Her eyes fell on the bandage covering his stitches and her breath shuddered.

“Yeah,” she said, calmer than she felt. She met his eyes again, now that she’d made her point with her gaze. “Sure looks like it.” 

She turned on her heel and marched back to her room. She shut the door with a little more force than necessary, and went to go sit on the bed. She let her fingers uncurl, and pressed them against her thighs in an attempt to quell how violently they shook. 

She stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity, trying to even out her breathing again, trying to get the resonance in her ears to go away, trying to see something other than the angry curl of his lip and the annoyed set of his jaw.

Finally, she raised her head. She was never one to let the day pass without living it to its fullest, but there was nothing more she wanted than to crawl into bed and sleep it away right then. She hesitated, because what if he needed her, but—

He didn’t need her. He’d made that perfectly clear.

She caught the shimmering frame of their wedding picture on the nightstand. She stared at it, her chest tight with the memory and all the implications it held, all the vows it upheld and all the arguments it had resolved.

She reached over, and with every part of her crying out in protest, she pushed it face down.

Then she kicked her shoes off and crawled under the sheets, pulling the covers above her head and trying to ignore how sharply she felt her heart break. 

[winterisakillerwrites]

Recovery

One shot: Last Minutes & Lost Evenings 6/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary:  The awkwardness between them was a knife to the heart. And it was his fault. All of it. He wanted to tell her so. Tell her he was sorry. That he had been stupid and selfish and that he missed her. He opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing he needed to say something.

Rating: T

Warnings/Author’s Notes:  This is the sixth part of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

Previous

‘I’ve been waking in the morning just like every other day,

And just like every boring blues song, I get swallowed by the pain

And so I fumble for your figure in the darkness, just to make it go away.

But you’re not lying there any longer, and I know that that’s my fault

So I’ve been pounding on the floor and I’ve been crawling up the walls

And I’ve been dipping in my darkness for serotonin boosters, cider, and some kind of smelling salts’

Recovery – Frank Turner

“Tom, are you even listening to me?” The exasperation in Luke Windsor’s tone was unmistakable. Tom cursed himself. He’d been trying to pay attention, honestly he had; this role was important and something he had very much been interested in. The character was challenging and intense, something he could sink his teeth into. Something he could lose himself in. It was exact what he needed. But, as it had far too often as of late, his mind had been wandering.

Three weeks. God, had it only been three weeks? It was hard for him to believe that it had been so long. And yet still it felt like no time at all. When he closed his eyes he could still see her face with its strangled smile. The way her eyes had shone with the tears she seemed to fight so desperately. It hurt. God, did it hurt. But it had been for the best. Hadn’t it? He still honestly didn’t know.

Tom shook himself back into the present, “Sorry. I don’t know where my head is.” He forced a half-hearted smile and tried to focus on the papers sitting before him.

It was difficult to ignore the knowing look his friend shot. While Tom hadn’t said anything outright after he’d ended things with…Why was it so hard to even think her name? Luke had known. Somehow he always seemed to know. Tom supposed with a ruthless laugh that was why he paid the man so fucking much.

Get your head back in the game, Hiddleston.

“Where were we?”

He forced himself to focus on the various papers, folders, and contracts sitting before him; to listen as Luke and his manager, Michael, droned on about shooting schedules, press releases, the various parties attached to the project. It was important, he knew that. He just needed to keep himself focused. It was difficult and, God, he wished he didn’t have to care. But he smiled graciously and dutifully signed each paper passed his way, half listening as Michael summarized its contents.

And then finally, finally, it was done. Tom had never felt more relieved than after he had signed the last bloody form and was told he could go. He recapped and placed the pen neatly on the desk in front of him, shook both Luke and Michael’s hands and left the office as quickly as his feet could carry him.

The role was officially his and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

They’d been filming for going on six weeks now. Six weeks of alternating 3AM call times with grueling night shoots. It was demanding and exhausting, but he relished in every minute of it. He knew several of the crew from projects past and they’d gotten on quite well. The director pushed him, she was challenging and, at times, demanding; he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His co-star, Natalie, was someone he had known for years; since his RADA days. She was clever, quick on her feet, dedicated, and an absolute delight to play off of. He’d been overjoyed when he learned of her casting and they had spent much of the pre-production catching up and discussing how each would play their respective roles.

Filming was primarily in and around London. That had been one of the project’s major selling points. It meant he could spend most nights in his own bed. He could see his friends, his mother, even his bratty little sister (whom he loved dearly but even now tended to push the majority of his buttons). He refused to acknowledge the stray thought that remaining in London meant he could possibly see…No. No, that was not an option any more. He’d made completely certain of that.

But that did little to silence the voice in his head that desperately wanted to see her. To know she was okay. He just wanted her to be okay. It was utterly ridiculous and he’d known it. He’d made his choice. He did not have the right to second guess, not now.

He pushed his front door open, grateful for the silence that engulfed him. The day had been far too long and he wanted nothing more than to fall headlong into his bed and not move for at least a week.

Sighing, he dropped himself onto the couch and covered his eyes with his right arm. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. He hadn’t seen the point. There was no one waiting for him, not even Bobby.

He’d sent the hyper but adorable chocolate spaniel to stay with Emma and her husband for the week. Even though he was filming close to home, the extensive hours he was being forced to keep were rough on a dog so young. And Emma certainly hadn’t protested. He wondered vaguely if she would actually give Bobby back when all was said and done. It could honestly go either way.

He ignored the small part of his brain that was lambasting him for collapsing on the couch instead of climbing the stairs to his room and his waiting bed. He would make it there eventually. Sleeping on the couch always seemed to lead to a sore back and restless tossing and turning, but he was there now and moving had ceased to be an option.

The buzzing of his phone jarred the silence of the room. He cursed as he fumbled in his side pocket for the offending device. “Hello?”

A warm female voice answered, “Tom? It’s Nat.”

He sat up, trying to fight the stupid disappointment he felt because it wasn’t her voice. “Hey, is everything alright?”

She laughed, “Yeah, everything’s decent.” There was a hesitancy in her voice he couldn’t quite place. “I really am sorry to bother you, I know you’ve got to be knackered. Lord knows I am.”

He rubbed his face with his free hand, “It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep. Can’t seem to turn my brain off,” he laughed quietly, “What’s going on?”

“So since we’re both off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d be up for meeting up for a drink or something…”

“You sure everything’s okay? I thought Max was coming down…” It had been all Natalie had been talking about for weeks. She’d been positively blissful leaving set, despite how tired they both had been.

“Yeah, that kind of fell through. We’re…I guess we’re on a break. I don’t know.” Her voice had taken on a quieter aspect and he could plainly hear the uncertainty and confusion in her tone. “I just…I could really use a friend.”

“Of course, Nat.”

Once they had agreed to meet a pub not too far from the flat Natalie had been letting the call ended. Tom sighed and pushed himself to his feet, grateful that in his laziness he’d not toed off his boots. Keys in hand he headed back out into the warm evening air.

Natalie was several pints in by the time he’d found her at a table just off of the pub’s main entrance. She smiled half-heartedly at him as he slid into the seat across from her, clutching his own drink. As he drank she poured her heart out, relaying everything had happened and her confusion and hurt. They had been completely fine as far as she’d known. Yes, this particular shoot had been demanding but she’d been available for every call, she’d made time to try to see him as often as she could. Her frustration and anger were palpable.

Tom, not knowing what to say, simply sat and offered her his attention and sympathy. It wasn’t long before he’d caught up drink-wise and they began trading rounds. And it was bleary eyed and stumbling that they both found themselves at Natalie’s door several hours later. He’d taken her invitation for coffee without a second thought, reveling in the warmth of being thoroughly in his cups.

He woke the next morning with a pounding head and the distinct feeling that something was amiss. With a great deal of care, he attempted to roll on his side. Nausea raged through him. God, moving had been a mistake. He groped blindly for the bottle of paracetamol he kept in his bedside drawer. But to no avail.

He cautiously cracked one eye and noted with a sinking sense of certainty that the bedside table was wrong. He risked cracking the other eye and forced himself to sit slowly, very, very slowly up in bed. This wasn’t his bedroom. Where was he?

As his head pounded furiously images began to flit into his conscious memory. Snippets of laughter and drinking at the pub. The warm cup of coffee Natalie had handed him. The way her lips tasted as they crashed into his own. Clothing flying. Wandering hands. Oh God.

He heard footsteps in the hall, heading towards the bedroom. “You look like you could use this.”

A chipped mug was held under his nose and he took it gladly. Two familiar white pills were dropped unceremoniously into his other hand. Paracetamol. Lovely. He grimaced at the heat as he took two quick swallows to wash the medication down. The coffee was incredibly dark and bitter and he honestly didn’t care. “Thank you,” he murmured. It took several more gulps before he made himself ask, “Last night did we…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the question.

“Yes,” Natalie answered, “we did.”

He raised his eyes towards her. She looked slightly worse for wear; hair mused and eyeliner smudged. She was attractive, that was something he couldn’t deny. But he’d never seriously entertained the idea of having her in that way. But he’d been drunk and she was beautiful and willing. God, he was an ass. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t, Hiddleston,” she reprimanded, “We were drunk and we had sex. Was it the best idea? Probably not. But it happened. And fuck me I really don’t need your pity or your remorse right now.”

“I’m not saying that,” he shot back, setting the now empty mug on the bedside table. “I just…I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you…”

She laughed mirthlessly, “I think it’s fair to say we took advantage of each other, Tom.” He only nodded in reply, not trusting himself to speak. “I know you aren’t looking for anything and honestly neither am I. It happened and we’ll deal.” She offered him another small smile before walking out of the room.

Once the medication had kicked in and he felt slightly more human he was able to pull himself out of her bed and gather his clothes from the floor. He dressed silently trying not to think about what had happened and what the fuck he was going to do. She was not only his colleague but his friend. He had no desire to screw that up.

Natalie was sitting on a chair in the living room. Her eyes locked on his as he stumbled out of the hall. “I um…I guess I will see you tomorrow?” He cringed at himself. God he sounded like an ass.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

And with that he offered her a nod in farewell and walked out of the door. He blinked rapidly in the bright sunlight of mid-morning. It was just the once. You were both drunk; she was sad and you were lonely. Don’t make it bigger than it is.

But it happened again. And kept on happening. Neither had put a label on what they were doing, though they both were in agreement that it wasn’t serious. It was just sex. Just a means to a mutually beneficial end. Neither wanted anything more than that.

They were friends first and foremost. This, whatever it was, was simply a way to deal with the stress and loneliness they’d found themselves in. Natalie was lovely and they had always seemed to get along famously, but it would never go deeper than that.

She was safe, in that way; she’d made it perfectly clear that she had absolutely no interest in anything long term. So he’d allowed himself to let them be. And despite everything, he was content. They had taken to spending a great deal of their free time together talking and wandering around London. It was nice, just knowing there was someone even if it was only temporary.

There had been photographers. He’d known that with startling certainty. There always were. But he tried to pay them as little mind as he could. Stories would be printed about him regardless, fighting against it or worrying about it would do him little good.

He tried not to think about Rosie, tried not to compare what was happening to what they had shared. And most days he could. He would be able to wander the city and enjoy just being. Others, he would spend wondering, fruitlessly, if what he’d done, what he was doing, was the right thing. It was pointless and ridiculous in the extreme but on those days, he couldn’t seem to help himself. On those days he felt every bit the celebrity cliché; the famous actor fucking his beautiful co-star. And he hated himself for it.

Natalie, however, was understanding to a fault. She never pushed him to talk but was always willing to listen when he did. There were times he almost wished there was more between them, simply for the sheer fact that she understood. He cared for her, adored her even, but it would never be enough. For either of them. But for the time being, it worked.

A few days before filming wrapped Natalie had pulled him aside, asking if it were okay with him if they ended things. She and Max had been talking again. Things were starting to work and she didn’t want to pass up this chance. Tom had smiled and agreed without question. Natalie deserved happiness and if that was what made her happy then who was he to stand in the way?

And he was happy for her. Truly. He just couldn’t silence the voice in his head that wished it was him. Wished he’d been the one who had ended this because he was the one reconciling. That he was getting his Rosie back. He hated himself for that. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been the one to ruin everything because he was so fucking scared he wouldn’t be enough. That because of who he was, what he chose to do, she would be the one paying the price. He was a coward, pure and simple. And he was paying for it.

It had taken all of his training and professionalism to pull his head back into the present. He finished the day, a rare short one, with little screw up on his end and was greatly looking forward to home. And to his bed.

A groan escaped his throat. “Fuck,” he breathed as he glanced at the waiting message on his phone. Ben has texted. He’d gotten back from his own filming a week prior and they’d talked about meeting up. Apparently Ben had decided tonight was to be the night. Fuck. He just wanted a quiet night. But he hadn’t seen been in months. Dammit.

With a resigned sigh, he texted his friend in agreement and grabbed his light jacket from the arm of the couch in his trailer. No time like the present.

He’d hoped the cooler air would help to clear his head; it was one of the main reasons he’d chosen to walk to the pub rather than catch a taxi. He pulled his thin jacket tightly around himself, trying to block out the wind that had started to pick up.

He still wasn’t sure why he agreed to come out in the first place. He certainly wasn’t going to be the best company. And the last thing he wanted to do was socialize but he hadn’t seen Ben in months. He’d missed the man’s dry wit and no-nonsense approach to life. Ben certainly never had a problem taking him down a peg or two when he’d needed it. With all that had happened in the last month, it was something he desperately needed.

Tom had seen the woman pacing aimlessly in front of the pub but hadn’t paid her all that much mind, too lost in his own thoughts. So finding her face first in his chest had been a shock. He’d unconsciously thrown out his hands to steady her and she in turn had done the same, bracing her own against his chest. He felt his heart cease as the familiar floral scent surrounded him

His eyes fell on her dark head. No, he reasoned with himself, it isn’t her. It can’t be.

“I’m so sorry!” Her voice was high, full of panic and embarrassment, but it was her voice.

“Rosie?” Her name fell from his lips in disbelief. Months of unconsciously searching for her face in a crowd, of hoping to see her around every corner, and here she was. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his luck.

“Tom?”

Her dark eyes locked on his and he drunk her in, taking in every detail. Every small change and committing it to memory. She’d cut her hair, though it still fell past her shoulders. Her dress was one he’d never seen before; a deep red that clung to her hips and chest in such a way that made his breath come short. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, not caring that he had no right to notice anymore.

Color flooded her cheeks and he fought the urge to pull her against him once more, to hold her again. “Thanks,” she murmured in reply. “You look well.”

The awkwardness between them was a knife to the heart. And it was his fault. All of it. He wanted to tell her so. Tell her he was sorry. That he had been stupid and selfish and that he missed her. He opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing he needed to say something.

But the words died on his lips as he watched a tall man, roughly his own height, walk out of the pub and head straight for his Rosie holding a black cardigan in his hands. No, not his Rosie, not anymore.

Rosemary jumped at the sound of the man’s voice, jerking herself away from Tom as if she’d been burned. It certainly felt like he had been.

He watched helplessly as Rosemary traded the leather jacket thrown over her shoulders for the black jumper. How could he not have noticed the bloody jacket? She smiled at the man, her lover his mind taunted, and seemed perfectly content as he rubbed her arms with familiarity.

Tom wanted to scream. She had moved on. Of course she has you selfish prick, why wouldn’t she? This is what you wanted, remember? You wanted her to be happy. He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

Her eyes settled on him once more as she apologized for bumping into him again. He plastered on what he hoped was a convincingly warm smile. This is for her. He heard himself reply for her to think nothing of the matter, his voice sounded hollow to his own ears. She didn’t deserve that. She was happy and he didn’t have the right to sully her happiness.

She nodded in reply, linking her arm with the man beside her. And he prayed to whatever god was listening that he was half the actor everyone seemed to think he was because he couldn’t see any other way for him to get through this. “We won’t keep you,” she spoke, her voice steady. “Have a good night.”

He nodded at her, recognizing a dismissal when he heard it. It was the least of what he deserved.

He forced another smile before turning and heading into the crowded pub. He lost himself in the noise and movement of the place, trying not to let his thoughts wander back to the woman who was now walking away from him, arm in arm with her future. This was what he had wanted. So why couldn’t he believe that?

Next

[riseandshinelittleblossom]

Unconditional

This was a prompt from the lovely @lettersofwrittencollective and I hope I’ve done it justice. This is my first time writing Stiles, so go easy on me...propmt in bold below.

Disclaimer: I dont own Stiles Stilinski (unfortunately) or TW

Tagging my Dylan squad (hope its okay, girls!): @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @mrscutiefandobhaz @mummybear @stiles-o-dylan24 @screamxqueenx94 @superapplepie @brien-odylan @emichelle

Permas: @leelee10898 @fullbeaumonty @ritachacha

  Everything had to be perfect. It had to be.  Stiles had been seeing Natalie for more than two years now and they had been easily the best years of his life.

     Being with Natalie, so far away from Beacon Hills- so far away from the terrifying life he'd led through high school, left him feeling as if he were in a constant state of bliss. As if he were floating perpetually on a cloud through life. He loved her, and tonight was the night he was going to prove just how much.

   He smoothed down his dress shirt for the millionth time, adjusting the place settings at his dining room table for the thousandth. Lost in his thoughts he began ticking off his to-do list mentally.

Lasagna's in the oven-check

Tunes are on the i-dock- check

I haven't lost the…

Stiles' eyes went wide as he patted his pockets.

  "Fuck, Stilinski. Where did you put the-"

He scolded himself before his eyes caught sight of the ring box on the counter. He crossed the floor of his tiny apartment in two strides, securing the box and stuffing it into his pocket. Back to the list.

I haven't lost the ring-check

Dim the lights since I'm too poor for candles apparently-check check

He strode over to the dial on the wall, adjusting the lights. Now all that's missing is Nata-

A sharp knock rang through the apartment and Stiles couldn't help but smile. He rushed to the door, skidding to a stop to thrust it open.

  "Hey, baby." He grinned bending to kiss her cheek before stepping aside to let her in.

  He dutifully took her coat as she shrugged out of it, tucking a fallen strand of her brunette hair behind her ear.

   "It's smells fabulous in here, Stiles. I'm impressed." she joked.

    "It's lasagna, Nat, not rocket science."

    "I had every faith that you could assemble a lasagna, Stilinski. I'm impressed that you managed to cook it without setting the kitchen ablaze." she chuckled making her way to the dining room.

   A few moments later Stiles joined her, pan of lasagna in hand. He placed it gingerly on the table between them and served out two portions.

     After dinner was finished and a couple glasses of wine, Stiles rooted around in the kitchen for a few moments returning with a single slice of blueberry pie with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.

Natalie scoffed, jaw dropping. "Where is mine?"

    Her nose wrinkled slightly and her hands found her hips. It was something she did a lot and Stiles thought it was absolutely adorable.

   A sly smirk spread across his face as he responded, "Well I'm trying to watch my girlish figure- ya know the bureau doesn't take kindly to soggy agents- so I figured we could share."

  He produced two spoons from behind his back and Natalie grinned.

    "Fair enough."

    Stiles watched as she scooped up a bite, almost as if there were a special science behind the pie to ice cream ratio. He couldn't help the dreamy smile that bloomed across his face. Simply watching Natalie be Natalie was enchanting.

    She twisted the spoon in her mouth pulling it down when she noticed her boyfriend staring.

    "What?"

    "Nat, I… there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

    She dropped the spoon on the plate, an unceremonious clatter as the flatware hit.

   "That is almost never a good thing, Stilinski."

    "This time it is, I swear. I mean I think it is. I hope it is. I had actually never considered that you might not think it is until right now. Well now I'm not so sure about it-"

  "Stiles! Slow down. I was joking." She giggled as Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

   "Okay listen. So there are things in my past, some I've never shared with you. Things that I'm not very proud of. Oh man I'm not even sure how to start."

   Natalie watched patiently as Stiles raked his fingers through his hair, nervously glancing around the room as if something nearby would be able to help.

  Finally she placed a soft hand on her boyfriend's knee. The small gesture immediately soothed him, his frantic demeanor melting away as he covered her hand with his own and smiled at her.

   His honey colored eyes darted between her deep mocha ones as she broke the comfortable silence, "Stiles, you know you can tell me anything and I won't judge you. I love you. Unconditionally."

  He nodded because he did know she wouldn't judge him, however that knowledge didn't assuage the fact that he would still judge himself.

   "Just start at the beginning. I've got all night." Natalie squeezed his knee and Stiles took a deep breath before he began.

   Natalie listened intently as Stiles explained all about werewolves, his true alpha best friend, and the supernatural. He told her all about the nemeton and the sacrifices he, Scott, and Allison had made.

    He paused for a long time after that, and although he was sure she had questions, Natalie never said a word. She just silently soaked in the information, tracing gentle circles on Stiles' knee cap, her mocha eyes never leaving him.

   When once again he found his confidence he continued on, telling her all about his possession by the evil nogitsune during junior year. The battle he'd waged within himself even after his friends had expelled the entity from him.

  Stiles storied on about chimeras and wendigos. About the dread Doctors. Gulping back pain and regret he confessed to the love of his life about what happened in the school library the night he took Donovan's life.

   All the while Natalie listened, sometimes the sympathy or empathy she felt for him flashed briefly across her flawless features, and when it happened, Stiles would squeeze her hand and pause a beat.

    Eventually he told her about the Riders on the Storm and how he was terrified he'd never make it back to Beacon Hills, but that once he had, he'd made up his mind to leave that all behind him.

    A silence filled the room for a long time, so thick it was almost palpable. When she was sure that Stiles had finished-evidenced only by the way he cast his gaze at his feet- Natalie finally spoke.

   "I believe you. I am so sorry. I never knew….when you said your life in Beacon Hills was complicated I never thought…" her voice trailed off as she reached over to cup his cheek, Stiles peering up at her through long lashes, clearly ashamed of the things he'd just shared.

    "Nat, there's no way you could have. I never told you before because...well it's a helluva burden to carry. The knowledge you can never share. I only told you now because-"

  "Stiles, I'm glad I know. I'm glad you told me. You shouldn't have to shoulder all of that alone and now I can shoulder it with you. I love you so much, Stiles Stilinski. Nothing you have told me tonight could ever change that."

  Her thumb grazed his temple and a soft, involuntary sigh escaped Stiles as he relished the touch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny box, dropping to his knees before the love of his life.

  A hand flew to Natalie's mouth, the realization of what was happening coming to her instantly.

   "Natalie, to me you are the sun and the moon. The earth and the stars, and I would move mountains to prove it to you. I've never felt more safe, more whole, more... accepted than I do when I'm in your arms.

    Natalie...even after everything I just thrust upon you...you love me as if I deserve you, and even if it's selfish I just can't let that slip away. Will you marry me?"

  Stiles opened the box to reveal a small square-cut diamond solitaire set in white gold. He held his breath anxiously as a single tear slid down her cheek, a smile tugging at the corners of her covered lips.

  She couldn't move-hell she could hardly breathe- so she gathered every ounce of strength within her and vehemently nodded a response.

   A wide grin threatened to split Stiles' face in two as he took her hand, removed the ring from it's velvet bed and slipped it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

  Natalie pinched his face between both of her hands, crashing her lips against his with a ferocity he'd never seen before.

    When finally she pulled away Stiles whispered, "I love you with all of my heart, Natalie."

    "I love you too and I can't wait to become Mrs. Mieczyslaw Stilinski."

[uncharnel]

@jorahgothique

  It was a terrible thing, having to ask your own daughter where baby clothes could be bought. Maybe not so much because it meant she'd been thinking about having babies, oh no. Foley hoped Natalie's family would be as big and happy as his own. He knew she'd make a good mother. What brought him so much distress was the implication that she might be thinking about making babies, never a joyful prospect for a father.

  The thing was that he had no idea where else to go for the information he required. Chloe wouldn't know, their last child born in another state and not a hair on either her or her husband's head considered going through that again at this point in their lives. Nor was Foley acquainted with many young women besides his daughter and her friends. Making inquiries of them was out of the question for the sake both Natalie and his own sanity.

  Note with the address in his daughter's neat cursive written upon it in hand, he strolled through Washington's streets, Jorah by his side. His joints were kind to him today and Jorah's nausea to her, there was no need to rush. The cold persisted, reddening the tip of his nose and bringing a mild tingle to his fingers. Even so, the day was lovely, cloudless and crisp, the thinnest layer of snow worn down by the mercantile street's foot traffic.

  And no wonder, with Christmas coming up! That alone was enough to put as much of a spring as there could be in Foley's step. He delighted in every sign of it and smiled at each shop window they passed. Holly decorated every single one, the choicest goods proudly on display. It was a time for giving, but most of all for buying.

  That showed in the crowds around them, men and women laden with packages, coming and going from seemingly every direction. Foley kept an eyes on his charge throughout it all, stepping in front of her so she could walk in his leeway when he thought she might get jostled. That she might run without her eyes on him never crossed his mind and besides, his gaze returned to her as soon as it could.

  It wasn't her movements he watched like a hawk, rather some show of interest. Every glance at a shop window that looked like it might draw her interest was filed away among the debris of his questionable memory, no matter how minor. If she looked in the general direction of a dress for 5 seconds, he spent his time until they'd passed studying it. A pretty broach? That small bird statue? All remembered for later, even if he'd probably forget how they looked until he saw them again.

  Nobody should be forgotten on Christmas and he'd made up his mind that Jorah would not be. A pity he couldn't give her the only gift that would matter, the chance to be free and go wherever she pleased. Even he had given up on the hope that she'd ever get used to her new home, the melancholy palpable even though she hid it. His distractions could only do so much.

  The blankets he'd brought from home were at least a beginning in shaking up the dreariness, ghastly though he thought them. The promissory note from an unknown account gently creasing in his inner pocket would allow for more changes, furniture and decorations of Jorah's own choosing. And for today, she wouldn't have to look at the walls that kept her trapped in a drab little cage. They would take their time, even if they didn't get back before dark.

  Peering myopically at his note, Foley stopped, holding it up to compare it to the sign over the door. There had indeed been dresses and slacks in the window much too small for an adult, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Natalie had recommended this shop especially and Foley trusted his daughter's tastes to be closer to Jorah's than his own.

  Satisfied that his search had not been in vain, he stuffed the scrap of paper in a pocket and pulled open the door. The bell above it gave a merry jangle to announce their entry, the air from inside a blessing of warmth, the light warm and inviting. “After you, Jorah,” he said with a gallant if creaky wave. “Take as much time as you need and don't be shy, we should have more than enough to get anything you want.”

[shemakesmusic-uk]

INTERVIEW: Joseph.

Today, Portland-bred sister trio Joseph release their new album Good Luck, Kid via ATO Records. Following 2016’s I’m Alone, No You’re Not, the new album is a road movie in album form, an odyssey at turns emotional, existential, and entirely literal.

With their intimate storytelling and restless intensity, Natalie Schepman and her sisters Allison and Meegan Closner detail that journey in songs that careen and sprawl and often soar, ultimately spinning a narrative of life-changing transformation.

The 13-song collection was produced by Christian “Leggy” Langdon (Meg Myers, Charlotte OC) and the result brims with thick drums and lustrous guitars, heavy grooves and radiant melodies.

Joseph will also return to Europe this November for a headline tour, including London's Bush Hall, plus dates in Birmingham, Manchester and Glasgow. Tickets are on sale now - LINK.

We had a chat with Natalie all about the new album and upcoming tour. Read the interview below.

You recently returned with your new single 'Fighter'. What was the inspiration behind that track?

"The song came from our biggest fight. In relationships you can let yourself slowly slip away without saying how you feel, but this song asks you to be honest and fight for it."

'Fighter' is taken from your brand new album Good Luck, Kid, out today. What can you tell us about the record?

"We are so very excited for you to hear it! This album is a story of hoping for something, being let down by it then walking away from it in freedom. You’ll hear lyrics “in the backseat, riding in the fast lane, not sure who’s driving” or with the “passenger window rolled down” or when it “seems like no one’s driving” but in the title track “they handed you the keys, the driver’s seat is yours now.” You’re back and this is your moment."

How is Good Luck, Kid different, or similar, to your previous material? How would you say your sound has evolved?

"After touring with a band the last few years, the energy of the live shows changed the way we wrote. It’s such a broader palette! We wanted louder louds and softer softs. We wanted people to be able to move."

You worked with Christian Langdon on Good Luck, Kid. What sort of things did you learn from him?

"He is an explosive talent! One of your very own, hailing from Leeds. You’ll hear the organ from Leeds Cathedral, which Leggy (the nickname he goes by) recorded and sampled throughout our album. We learned so many things from him, not the least of which were the long talks about spirit and the inner child but most of all we love the way he recorded vocals. It feels more dimensioned and lush than ever!"

What was your favourite part recording Good Luck, Kid?

"The moment when you know the song is right. We had some of the demos for over two years so to finally hear them realized with as much color and vibrance as we got with Leggy was thrilling. And also listening to Aaron Sterling on the drums when he was recording for ‘Revolving Door.’ All the lights in the studio were dimmed and you could feel the moment in your chest. The song was thick in the air."

You have a European headline tour planned for November in support of the new LP. What's your favourite thing about touring and performing live on stage?

"The people! Being in the room which other humans who have made these songs their own is unlike anything else. When they bring the presence and heart like we experience with our crowds, it’s palpable. It’s both cosmic and totally physical."

Which of the new songs are you most excited to play live and why?

"I can’t wait to hear Allie belt out the a capella moment on ‘Half Truths’. She’s done a lot of personal work to move through anxiety to peace and this song epitomizes the perseverance and strength I’ve seen her use to get through it."

What do the three of you enjoy doing in your down time between shows? Which are your favourite cities to visit?

"We adore the UK. London is maybe my top city in the world and if I tried to articulate why I don’t think I could. You know when you travel places and you feel at home there even though you’ve never been there before? Maybe it’s because we’re from the Pacific Northwest which has a similar climate or maybe it’s because we’ve made wonderful Londoner friends who have showed us their favorite spots. But that’s not to say we don’t love our Geordies! Newcastle has a special place in our hearts too."

What do you never go on tour without?

"Suitcase dividers! And Meegan always ends up with a small library of 20 books she didn’t mean to bring."

Finally, what’s one non-musical goal of yours for 2019?

"Listen to more Pod Save America and read to get informed and prep for the madness to come. Oh, and world peace."

Good Luck, Kid is out now.

Photo credit: Louis Browne

[itspileofgoodthings]

Hi there. In the tags of a Love Actually post you said that there were some great stories in it but two that needs to be cut and one that breaks your heart. I'm curious, which is which? I have my suspicions, but I want to know. Lets talk Love Actually!

Anonymous said: What storylines should have been cut in Love actually ?

Ahh thanks for asking! Both of you!

The storylines that should have been cut, I think, are the Colin and John/Judy storylines, otherwise known as the gross British guy who travels to America for sex and the porn doubles couple storylines. They don’t add anything to the movie except unnecessary filth and taking them out would give a little more room for some of the other storylines!

As for the one that breaks my heart- I guess there’s two. The Harry/Karen storyline crushes me every single time and every single time I watch it I hope that it will be different and it NEVER is. It’s so horrible. The shot of Emma Thompson standing in her bedroom crying with her hands pressed to her face as she tries to hold herself together?? is just. nO. NO. How dare everything.

 I don’t know if I would cut it because it’s a well-told story and compelling in that you feel so keenly her pain and even his. It’s not a happy fling/flirtation/love affair/whatever the hell that was, you know? He’s so unhappy even as he’s giving into the temptation. It’s this bitter, slow, poisonous, soul-sucking thing and the ugliness of that is palpable and idk that movies always get that feeling so utterly right when they’re telling stories about cheating/almost cheating so I admire how well done it is. 

BUT ALSO, who am I kidding. It is CHRISTMAS. It is EMMA THOMPSON. Harry should have come to senses, told Mia or Mary or whatever her name is TO GET LOST, and given Karen the necklace and the Joni Mitchell cd.

The other story that kills me is Carl and Sara because i just?? want her to be happy too???? Again, it’s poignant and that shot of her taking care of her brother at the end of the movie makes me weep every time but why couldn’t Carl have been a part of her story too huh?? Why couldn’t she have loved both of them? Why couldn’t he have helped her through it? My headcanon is that she finds someone like that right after, though.

I love all the other storylines: Jamie and Aurelia are ADORABLE. I’d die for David and Natalie (him offering to have her ex-boyfriend murdered is incredible. “ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away” love him (and Bill Nighy) and his love story with his manager. As aforementioned, Liam Neeson and the little kid ARE SO CUTE AND PURE. 

And, finally, I actually love the Mark/Juliet/Peter story. Is this controversial? I can’t ever tell. Mark is- yeah okay. His behavior is inappropriate and his final statement with all the cards is completely impractical as a thing to do because in real life PETER WOULD HAVE ANSWERED THE DOOR. And what WAS his plan if Peter did answer the door? “Yeah i just have these cards declaring my love for your wife!” ??

But all of that aside, I think it works in the context of the movie! He’s repressed his love for so long (and you can tell he’s done that for Peter’s sake as much as his own and that part of this whole problem is that he loves him too) that it had to come out at some point. He let it build when he shouldn’t have and also kept it alive when he shouldn’t have but that’s a very human thing. And because his intention with the cards isn’t to win her heart anyway or to hurt Peter, I like it. I think it’s a beautiful moment that he needs to have so that he can let go and move on. And that’s what he does! After she kisses him (also only something that works in a movie, real life no) and it’s clearly a goodbye and thank you kiss and no more, he says “No more, it’s done”. And you can see the weight of the love start to lift and you can trust that he will move on. I love that!

Unrequited love is interesting because IS it selfish to tell someone you love them when you’re not free? Even if you make it clear you expect nothing? Can that even be a thing or are you always asking for something in return even if you pretend otherwise? I don’t even know. All I know is that “because it’s Christmas…and you tell the truth at Christmas” and also “my wasted heart will love you” make me tear up.

[winterisakiller]

Recovery

One shot: Last Minutes and Lost Evenings 6/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary:  The awkwardness between them was a knife to the heart. And it was his fault. All of it. He wanted to tell her so. Tell her he was sorry. That he had been stupid and selfish and that he missed her. He opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing he needed to say something.

Rating: T

Warnings/Author’s Notes:  This is the sixth part of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

Previous

‘I’ve been waking in the morning just like every other day,

And just like every boring blues song, I get swallowed by the pain

And so I fumble for your figure in the darkness, just to make it go away.

But you’re not lying there any longer, and I know that that’s my fault

So I’ve been pounding on the floor and I’ve been crawling up the walls

And I’ve been dipping in my darkness for serotonin boosters, cider, and some kind of smelling salts’

 Recovery – Frank Turner

  “Tom, are you even listening to me?” The exasperation in Luke Windsor’s tone was unmistakable. Tom cursed himself. He’d been trying to pay attention, honestly he had; this role was important and something he had very much been interested in. The character was challenging and intense, something he could sink his teeth into. Something he could lose himself in. It was exact what he needed. But, as it had far too often as of late, his mind had been wandering.

 Three weeks. God, had it only been three weeks? It was hard for him to believe that it had been so long. And yet still it felt like no time at all. When he closed his eyes he could still see her face with its strangled smile. The way her eyes had shone with the tears she seemed to fight so desperately. It hurt. God, did it hurt. But it had been for the best. Hadn’t it? He still honestly didn’t know.

 Tom shook himself back into the present, “Sorry. I don’t know where my head is.” He forced a half-hearted smile and tried to focus on the papers sitting before him.

 It was difficult to ignore the knowing look his friend shot. While Tom hadn’t said anything outright after he’d ended things with…Why was it so hard to even think her name? Luke had known. Somehow he always seemed to know. Tom supposed with a ruthless laugh that was why he paid the man so fucking much.

 Get your head back in the game, Hiddleston.

 “Where were we?”

 He forced himself to focus on the various papers, folders, and contracts sitting before him; to listen as Luke and his manager, Michael, droned on about shooting schedules, press releases, the various parties attached to the project. It was important, he knew that. He just needed to keep himself focused. It was difficult and, God, he wished he didn’t have to care. But he smiled graciously and dutifully signed each paper passed his way, half listening as Michael summarized its contents.

 And then finally, finally, it was done. Tom had never felt more relieved than after he had signed the last bloody form and was told he could go. He recapped and placed the pen neatly on the desk in front of him, shook both Luke and Michael’s hands and left the office as quickly as his feet could carry him.

 The role was officially his and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

  They’d been filming for going on six weeks now. Six weeks of alternating 3AM call times with grueling night shoots. It was demanding and exhausting, but he relished in every minute of it. He knew several of the crew from projects past and they’d gotten on quite well. The director pushed him, she was challenging and, at times, demanding; he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His co-star, Natalie, was someone he had known for years; since his RADA days. She was clever, quick on her feet, dedicated, and an absolute delight to play off of. He’d been overjoyed when he learned of her casting and they had spent much of the pre-production catching up and discussing how each would play their respective roles.

 Filming was primarily in and around London. That had been one of the project’s major selling points. It meant he could spend most nights in his own bed. He could see his friends, his mother, even his bratty little sister (whom he loved dearly but even now tended to push the majority of his buttons). He refused to acknowledge the stray thought that remaining in London meant he could possibly see…No. No, that was not an option any more. He’d made completely certain of that.

 But that did little to silence the voice in his head that desperately wanted to see her. To know she was okay. He just wanted her to be okay. It was utterly ridiculous and he’d known it. He’d made his choice. He did not have the right to second guess, not now.

 He pushed his front door open, grateful for the silence that engulfed him. The day had been far too long and he wanted nothing more than to fall headlong into his bed and not move for at least a week.

 Sighing, he dropped himself onto the couch and covered his eyes with his right arm. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. He hadn’t seen the point. There was no one waiting for him, not even Bobby.

 He’d sent the hyper but adorable chocolate spaniel to stay with Emma and her husband for the week. Even though he was filming close to home, the extensive hours he was being forced to keep were rough on a dog so young. And Emma certainly hadn’t protested. He wondered vaguely if she would actually give Bobby back when all was said and done. It could honestly go either way.

 He ignored the small part of his brain that was lambasting him for collapsing on the couch instead of climbing the stairs to his room and his waiting bed. He would make it there eventually. Sleeping on the couch always seemed to lead to a sore back and restless tossing and turning, but he was there now and moving had ceased to be an option.

 The buzzing of his phone jarred the silence of the room. He cursed as he fumbled in his side pocket for the offending device. “Hello?”

 A warm female voice answered, “Tom? It’s Nat.”

 He sat up, trying to fight the stupid disappointment he felt because it wasn’t her voice. “Hey, is everything alright?”

 She laughed, “Yeah, everything’s decent.” There was a hesitancy in her voice he couldn’t quite place. “I really am sorry to bother you, I know you’ve got to be knackered. Lord knows I am.”

 He rubbed his face with his free hand, “It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep. Can’t seem to turn my brain off,” he laughed quietly, “What’s going on?”

 “So since we’re both off tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d be up for meeting up for a drink or something…”

 “You sure everything’s okay? I thought Max was coming down…” It had been all Natalie had been talking about for weeks. She’d been positively blissful leaving set, despite how tired they both had been.

 “Yeah, that kind of fell through. We’re…I guess we’re on a break. I don’t know.” Her voice had taken on a quieter aspect and he could plainly hear the uncertainty and confusion in her tone. “I just…I could really use a friend.”

 “Of course, Nat.”

 Once they had agreed to meet a pub not too far from the flat Natalie had been letting the call ended. Tom sighed and pushed himself to his feet, grateful that in his laziness he’d not toed off his boots. Keys in hand he headed back out into the warm evening air.

 Natalie was several pints in by the time he’d found her at a table just off of the pub’s main entrance. She smiled half-heartedly at him as he slid into the seat across from her, clutching his own drink. As he drank she poured her heart out, relaying everything had happened and her confusion and hurt. They had been completely fine as far as she’d known. Yes, this particular shoot had been demanding but she’d been available for every call, she’d made time to try to see him as often as she could. Her frustration and anger were palpable.

 Tom, not knowing what to say, simply sat and offered her his attention and sympathy. It wasn’t long before he’d caught up drink-wise and they began trading rounds. And it was bleary eyed and stumbling that they both found themselves at Natalie’s door several hours later. He’d taken her invitation for coffee without a second thought, reveling in the warmth of being thoroughly in his cups.

 He woke the next morning with a pounding head and the distinct feeling that something was amiss. With a great deal of care, he attempted to roll on his side. Nausea raged through him. God, moving had been a mistake. He groped blindly for the bottle of paracetamol he kept in his bedside drawer. But to no avail.

 He cautiously cracked one eye and noted with a sinking sense of certainty that the bedside table was wrong. He risked cracking the other eye and forced himself to sit slowly, very, very slowly up in bed. This wasn’t his bedroom. Where was he?

 As his head pounded furiously images began to flit into his conscious memory. Snippets of laughter and drinking at the pub. The warm cup of coffee Natalie had handed him. The way her lips tasted as they crashed into his own. Clothing flying. Wandering hands. Oh God.

 He heard footsteps in the hall, heading towards the bedroom. “You look like you could use this.”

 A chipped mug was held under his nose and he took it gladly. Two familiar white pills were dropped unceremoniously into his other hand. Paracetamol. Lovely. He grimaced at the heat as he took two quick swallows to wash the medication down. The coffee was incredibly dark and bitter and he honestly didn’t care. “Thank you,” he murmured. It took several more gulps before he made himself ask, “Last night did we…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the question.

 “Yes,” Natalie answered, “we did.”

 He raised his eyes towards her. She looked slightly worse for wear; hair mused and eyeliner smudged. She was attractive, that was something he couldn’t deny. But he’d never seriously entertained the idea of having her in that way. But he’d been drunk and she was beautiful and willing. God, he was an ass. “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t, Hiddleston,” she reprimanded, “We were drunk and we had sex. Was it the best idea? Probably not. But it happened. And fuck me I really don’t need your pity or your remorse right now.”

 “I’m not saying that,” he shot back, setting the now empty mug on the bedside table. “I just…I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you…”

 She laughed mirthlessly, “I think it’s fair to say we took advantage of each other, Tom.” He only nodded in reply, not trusting himself to speak. “I know you aren’t looking for anything and honestly neither am I. It happened and we’ll deal.” She offered him another small smile before walking out of the room.

 Once the medication had kicked in and he felt slightly more human he was able to pull himself out of her bed and gather his clothes from the floor. He dressed silently trying not to think about what had happened and what the fuck he was going to do. She was not only his colleague but his friend. He had no desire to screw that up.

 Natalie was sitting on a chair in the living room. Her eyes locked on his as he stumbled out of the hall. “I um…I guess I will see you tomorrow?” He cringed at himself. God he sounded like an ass.

 She nodded, “Yeah.”

 And with that he offered her a nod in farewell and walked out of the door. He blinked rapidly in the bright sunlight of mid-morning. It was just the once. You were both drunk; she was sad and you were lonely. Don’t make it bigger than it is.

 But it happened again. And kept on happening. Neither had put a label on what they were doing, though they both were in agreement that it wasn’t serious. It was just sex. Just a means to a mutually beneficial end. Neither wanted anything more than that.

 They were friends first and foremost. This, whatever it was, was simply a way to deal with the stress and loneliness they’d found themselves in. Natalie was lovely and they had always seemed to get along famously, but it would never go deeper than that.

 She was safe, in that way; she’d made it perfectly clear that she had absolutely no interest in anything long term. So he’d allowed himself to let them be. And despite everything, he was content. They had taken to spending a great deal of their free time together talking and wandering around London. It was nice, just knowing there was someone even if it was only temporary.

 There had been photographers. He’d known that with startling certainty. There always were. But he tried to pay them as little mind as he could. Stories would be printed about him regardless, fighting against it or worrying about it would do him little good.

 He tried not to think about Rosie, tried not to compare what was happening to what they had shared. And most days he could. He would be able to wander the city and enjoy just being. Others, he would spend wondering, fruitlessly, if what he’d done, what he was doing, was the right thing. It was pointless and ridiculous in the extreme but on those days, he couldn’t seem to help himself. On those days he felt every bit the celebrity cliché; the famous actor fucking his beautiful co-star. And he hated himself for it.

 Natalie, however, was understanding to a fault. She never pushed him to talk but was always willing to listen when he did. There were times he almost wished there was more between them, simply for the sheer fact that she understood. He cared for her, adored her even, but it would never be enough. For either of them. But for the time being, it worked.

 A few days before filming wrapped Natalie had pulled him aside, asking if it were okay with him if they ended things. She and Max had been talking again. Things were starting to work and she didn’t want to pass up this chance. Tom had smiled and agreed without question. Natalie deserved happiness and if that was what made her happy then who was he to stand in the way?

 And he was happy for her. Truly. He just couldn’t silence the voice in his head that wished it was him. Wished he’d been the one who had ended this because he was the one reconciling. That he was getting his Rosie back. He hated himself for that. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been the one to ruin everything because he was so fucking scared he wouldn’t be enough. That because of who he was, what he chose to do, she would be the one paying the price. He was a coward, pure and simple. And he was paying for it.

 It had taken all of his training and professionalism to pull his head back into the present. He finished the day, a rare short one, with little screw up on his end and was greatly looking forward to home. And to his bed.

 A groan escaped his throat. “Fuck,” he breathed as he glanced at the waiting message on his phone. Ben has texted. He’d gotten back from his own filming a week prior and they’d talked about meeting up. Apparently Ben had decided tonight was to be the night. Fuck. He just wanted a quiet night. But he hadn’t seen been in months. Dammit.

 With a resigned sigh, he texted his friend in agreement and grabbed his light jacket from the arm of the couch in his trailer. No time like the present.

 He’d hoped the cooler air would help to clear his head; it was one of the main reasons he’d chosen to walk to the pub rather than catch a taxi. He pulled his thin jacket tightly around himself, trying to block out the wind that had started to pick up.

 He still wasn’t sure why he agreed to come out in the first place. He certainly wasn’t going to be the best company. And the last thing he wanted to do was socialize but he hadn’t seen Ben in months. He’d missed the man’s dry wit and no-nonsense approach to life. Ben certainly never had a problem taking him down a peg or two when he’d needed it. With all that had happened in the last month, it was something he desperately needed.

 Tom had seen the woman pacing aimlessly in front of the pub but hadn’t paid her all that much mind, too lost in his own thoughts. So finding her face first in his chest had been a shock. He’d unconsciously thrown out his hands to steady her and she in turn had done the same, bracing her own against his chest. He felt his heart cease as the familiar floral scent surrounded him

 His eyes fell on her dark head. No, he reasoned with himself, it isn’t her. It can’t be.

 “I’m so sorry!” Her voice was high, full of panic and embarrassment, but it was her voice.

 “Rosie?” Her name fell from his lips in disbelief. Months of unconsciously searching for her face in a crowd, of hoping to see her around every corner, and here she was. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his luck.

 “Tom?”

 Her dark eyes locked on his and he drunk her in, taking in every detail. Every small change and committing it to memory. She’d cut her hair, though it still fell past her shoulders. Her dress was one he’d never seen before; a deep red that clung to her hips and chest in such a way that made his breath come short. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, not caring that he had no right to notice anymore.

 Color flooded her cheeks and he fought the urge to pull her against him once more, to hold her again. “Thanks,” she murmured in reply. “You look well.”

 The awkwardness between them was a knife to the heart. And it was his fault. All of it. He wanted to tell her so. Tell her he was sorry. That he had been stupid and selfish and that he missed her. He opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say but knowing he needed to say something.

 But the words died on his lips as he watched a tall man, roughly his own height, walk out of the pub and head straight for his Rosie holding a black cardigan in his hands. No, not his Rosie, not anymore.

 Rosemary jumped at the sound of the man’s voice, jerking herself away from Tom as if she’d been burned. It certainly felt like he had been.

 He watched helplessly as Rosemary traded the leather jacket thrown over her shoulders for the black jumper. How could he not have noticed the bloody jacket? She smiled at the man, her lover his mind taunted, and seemed perfectly content as he rubbed her arms with familiarity.

 Tom wanted to scream. She had moved on. Of course she has you selfish prick, why wouldn’t she? This is what you wanted, remember? You wanted her to be happy. He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

 Her eyes settled on him once more as she apologized for bumping into him again. He plastered on what he hoped was a convincingly warm smile. This is for her. He heard himself reply for her to think nothing of the matter, his voice sounded hollow to his own ears. She didn’t deserve that. She was happy and he didn’t have the right to sully her happiness.

 She nodded in reply, linking her arm with the man beside her. And he prayed to whatever god was listening that he was half the actor everyone seemed to think he was because he couldn’t see any other way for him to get through this. “We won’t keep you,” she spoke, her voice steady. “Have a good night.”

 He nodded at her, recognizing a dismissal when he heard it. It was the least of what he deserved.

 He forced another smile before turning and heading into the crowded pub. He lost himself in the noise and movement of the place, trying not to let his thoughts wander back to the woman who was now walking away from him, arm in arm with her future. This was what he had wanted. So why couldn’t he believe that?

Next

[uomo-accattivante]

I love this interview! 👍🏼

Writer/director Alex Garland set a high bar for himself with Ex Machina, his stellar 2015 directorial debut. That sci-fi movie had a lot on its mind, but his newest film, Annihilation, is far more cerebral. It’s one of the most challenging movies of the year: bold, beautiful, and haunting in a way that occasionally verges on being experimental.

Not long ago, I had the opportunity to sit down with Garland and actor Oscar Isaac, who plays a key role in the film, to talk to them about bringing this story to the big screen. We touched on the film’s behind-the-scenes clashes, whether or not Garland was concerned with audiences being able to keep up with what he’s doing in this movie, Isaac’s approach to his troubled character, and much more. Read our full Oscar Isaac and Alex Garland interview below.

Warning: Both Garland and Isaac occasionally drop spoilers in a couple of their responses. If you’re 100% spoiler-averse, I’d suggest bookmarking this and reading it after you see the film. Our interview follows.

***

For me, watching this movie was like walking through a beautiful nightmare. I have not read Jeff VanderMeer’s book yet, but can you tell me about how you crafted the visual aspects of being inside The Shimmer?

Isaac: Sure. (laughs)

Garland: (To Isaac) Go on, do it. (laughs) Yeah, we knew we wanted it to be beautiful and disturbing, often concurrently within the same shot. So really, what happened was, there’s a script. And in the script it’s straightforward in many respects, because it says, like, say, this scene, you’d say, ‘INTERIOR. HOTEL BAY. Three people sit around a coffee table.’ But then of course, production designers and set decorators need to make it something where you can stick a camera. So the script was disseminated among the collective, the group of people who work together, many of whom I’ve worked with for a long time – some of them twenty years. Me and [set decorator] Michelle Day and Mark [Digby] on the production design team, [producer] Andrew [Macdonald] – we’ve worked together on seven or eight movies, so we know each other backwards.

It all goes out, and really what happens is, a conversation starts. Everybody’s got a voice, and everybody’s chipping in, and an organic, evolutionary process begins and it doesn’t really stop. It doesn’t really stop until the picture’s locked. Right in the 59th minute of the twelfth hour, or whatever the right thing to say is, in the grade, these things are being affected hugely. How much do you saturate the colors? Where do you choose to desaturate? Where do you choose to put a bright point in the screen and do we have a vignette on the shot to focus? So it never really stops. It’s a big collective all working together and getting there organically.

Isaac: But at the same time, nudging it towards ‘What’s most disturbing?’ As an example, without trying to give away too much stuff, the ‘fight’ scene at the end between the alien and Lena. I was there for a lot of those rehearsals, and just seeing – it’s such an ephemeral thing. Why is it more disturbing if she’s less aggressive here, but pushing into her? Why is it weirder if this movement happens as opposed to this movement? It’s hard to say why, but it’s one of those things where we wouldn’t think of it, but then (nods to Garland) you’d suggest it, and suddenly we were all like, ‘Yep. That’s definitely creepier.’ Something as subtle as, this alien being, all it is is intention. So seeing the physicality of that idea happen. The collaborative part is, you say that, and then we have to interpret that. How do you physicalize just intention? Then somewhere that alchemy comes together, and everyone gets on the same page and creates something really crazy.

By the end, Kane turns out to be unlike any character you’ve played before. But in the beginning, I was noticing a couple of similarities to the soldier you voice in the Homecoming podcast. Did you think about that character at all when you were making this?

Isaac: Oh, is that right? No, I didn’t. That one, he was a private. Sure, he had kind of gone through some weird stuff, but I think with that one, there was a bit of an innocence. Kane maybe has…it’s a little bit of a different thing. There’s a deeper, darker bubbling thing underneath him.

As the film goes on, it feels increasingly impressionistic and almost experimental at certain points. Were you worried at all about audiences not being able to keep up?

Garland: No. Not really. That’s not to say there’s anything to do with ignoring audiences. It’s not that. But it has to do with what you’re concerned with in relation to the audience, you know? For example, the kind of area where I’d think about it a lot would be to do with strangeness. So the film was, in some ways, conceived backwards. There was this crucial aspect to me that began as Natalie’s character is walking along the beach, and then contains the sequence within a lighthouse. I knew that was the goal, and I knew that I wanted us collectively to achieve a particular level of strangeness and beauty and oddness. Things like the dance sequence that Oscar was just alluding to. It needed to have information, but not information that was stated. It was more inferred. They key thing would be about strangeness, right? What it feels like to watch it. The crucial thing is what would it feel like? So then, you have to think, ‘How do you construct feeling?’

One of them, say in the case of strangeness, is that there’s a diminishing return with it. So if you begin strange, by the time you get to the end strange, you’ve got acclimatized to it and you’ve lost the thing that you’re shooting for. So that created a built-in structure, which on set and in pre-production, we used to call ‘suburbia to psychedelia,’ because it sounds neat and it’s a nice reduction. It’s a nice sound byte, isn’t it? But it’s got truth in it. Because if you start in suburbia, you start in our world, it gives you the chance of getting truly strange, in a way. So everything was sort of structured that way.

Along those same lines, there were some heavily publicized behind-the-scenes clashes about the making of this movie. I know you’re someone who’s not afraid to speak your mind, so I’m just wondering if you’re pleased with how it all turned out.

Garland: I only really give a shit about the film, OK? That’s actually all I care about. So as long as the film honors the intent of the collective, I’m basically happy. That’s what I care about. I think we did everything we could, and I’m proud of it, and I love it, so I’m fine with it.

I’m curious about your process. What kinds of conversations did you guys have about Kane, and was there a moment when you were developing your take on him where everything clicked for you?

Isaac: (Jokingly) Yeah, I had it all figured out, and I walked in and said, ‘Shut up. Sit down. And point the camera at this.’ (points at his own face)

Garland: He set the lens. There was some discussion about the lighting, but Oscar won. That’s the way it goes.

Isaac: (laughs) Yeah, we talked. That’s what we do. We like to talk a lot and we think about things in similar ways, I like to think, and we have a similar sense of humor. So I think my first question was, ‘I know it’s not Predator with girls, but tell me why it’s not Predator with girls.’ No, I’m kidding. I just read it and thought it was fascinating and thought it was so strange and so beautiful, and I wanted to play this character. What was so cool is that he has all this stuff bubbling underneath, as I was saying, so that’s what was most interesting to me. There was almost a Pinter-esque quality to it, where there’s all these pauses and all of this subtext that’s just emanating out of these two people. But they don’t say it. Like Alex said, it’s inferred. So we spoke a lot about that. ‘What is it that’s happening underneath, and what is the nature of this relationship? What do I know now that I’m not saying? In this scene, now what do I know? What does she know?’ Trying to map those things out. Everything had a palpable energy between the characters.

Then coming up with different ideas: ‘Where might he be from? What if I try making his voice sound a little like this? What do you think about that?’ And then at the end, just the nature of the energy of how do we do this speech at the end that’s being filmed? What’s the reason we’re filming it? What’s the intent of it? Getting very specific about that stuff. That’s what a lot of it felt like. And with Alex, it always feels like we’re building a motorcycle together, or building a car. We’re just kind of handing each other the tools and making it together. That’s what’s really fun about it.

Garland: It was actually all built backwards. So for me, for what it’s worth, the whole thing was about earning the speech that Kane says at the end in this locked off shot that just sits there and lets him do it. It’s about the words that are contained there and the things he’s expressing there. Everything else is in support of that moment. The whole film actually is in support of the last thirty minutes, basically. Which sounds like a sort of stupid thing to say, because truly all films are. But actually that’s not exactly true. In a way, every single thing that happens is just inching your way towards this strange metaphysical sequence. And having it not as just abstract firework fun, but having content.

Isaac: Or pain. I think what the last thirty minutes are just this metaphysical pain and despair in some ways.

Garland:(To Oscar, jokingly) That’s how you’re choosing to sell the movie? Are you out of your fucking mind?

Isaac: Let’s go back to Predator with girls. Predator with girls! (laughs)

Garland: It’s true, though. It’s true.

With this and Star Wars, you’re a part of two big recent sci-fi movies that proudly feature women at the forefront of the cast, which is really cool. I know you’re separated from a lot of the ensemble here, but tell me about working with Natalie on this.

Isaac: I was shooting Star Wars at the exact same time, too, so that was a wild thing to –

Wait, you were jumping back and forth between sets?

Isaac: It was literally the same studio.

Oh, cool.

Isaac: So some days I would walk from – I think I still used my trailer from Star Wars…

Garland: Yeah, we didn’t have trailers. But there were days where you were, on the same day, shooting both things.

Isaac: Yeah, there were. I would shoot something in the morning and then have a little bit of down time and then switch it up. So that was wild.

Garland: We’d catch him at his lunch break and say, ‘We’ve got to shoot this now!’ (laughs)

Isaac: I think I visited, too, still dressed up as Poe on the set.

Garland:Yeah, totally.

Isaac: It was pretty wild. It reminded me a little of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, when he’s on the lot and you see all the different actors walking around. There was something very classic about it. So there was very little time, and not a lot of rehearsal time, and Natalie and I didn’t know each other. It happens in movies, obviously – you have to suddenly be very intimate with someone very quickly. I think the fact that she was willing to trust me and I was trusting her, and we just went in there and did it and tried to find a real intimacy. Which is always a weird, awkward, strange thing to do suddenly in front of a bunch of people. But we found that, and I really enjoyed those scenes with her. She is very focused, but also in those scenes, very emotionally available as well, so I really enjoyed that.

Garland: It makes me want to name-check Rian [Johnson] and Ram [Bergman], the producer on Star Wars [The Last Jedi]. I think because they come from an indie film background, here they are making like the biggest movie of all time, and they were unbelievably helpful and accommodating to us. And they really didn’t have to be at all. Most big productions would not even dream of doing that. And they went out of their way – whilst making fucking Star Wars, for Christ’s sake – to help this really small movie next door. It was very cool and I’m truly grateful for it, actually.

Making a movie with all female protagonists almost feels like a political statement today. Was that something that specifically drew you to this?

Garland: I really just want to dodge that question.

Really?

Garland: Yeah. The answer that I’m saying – which I’ve said before, so I apologize for it, but I’m in a position where this is the answer that I have – is that the previous film that Oscar and I worked on together [Ex Machina] had within it a very conscious set of deliberate arguments which related to gender and objectification. As well as other stuff about sentience and AI and all of that kind of thing. And what interested me about this project was the absence of an argument. So if I now talk about that, I dismantle the absence of the argument. So I’d just like to leave it at that.

Understood. You wrote this long before the Times Up and Me Too movements came to light, and I certainly don’t want you to explain the ending of your movie, but there’s some symbolism and imagery at the end that could be interpreted as being aligned with those causes. Does the film feel even more relevant now than when you wrote it, considering what’s going on culturally?

Garland: No, it doesn’t. I can’t lay claim to that. I wouldn’t want to. For me, it was a film, internally – by the way, let me just say, any time you present a narrative, in a book or a film or whatever the fuck it is, what is really happening is that fifty percent of the narrative is not provided by you. It’s provided by the subjective nature of the person receiving the narrative. So they fill in gaps, they provide stuff, they create agendas, whatever it happens to be. That is not problematic to me, that is just in the nature of the job. Right? For me, personally – so it doesn’t have to be for you – in as much as it is about something, which it is, to me, it is about the nature of self-destruction. It was about an observation I made, which is that everybody appears to be self-destructive. Some people are very obviously self-destructive because they’re addicted to heroin or alcohol or they act in a psychotic way or whatever, and they offer their self-destruction to you. Other people are very comfortable in their own skin, and they’ve got a fantastic job and a fantastic life and everything seems to be bulletproof. They feel like they’ve sort of cracked something about life. But then when you get to know them, you discover odd bits of self-destruction, which then become significant bits of self-destruction. It was the universality of it, that even the people who’d cracked it all had not cracked it all. And then I started trying to think –

Isaac: Where does it come from?

Garland: Where does it come from? Why is it that you have a really good marriage and you dismantle it? Why do you have a really good friendship and you dismantle it? Why do you have a really good job and you dismantle it? Whatever it happens to be. And the film essentially presents that question and an answer to that question by inference. To me, that is what it’s about.

*****

Annihilation hits theaters on February 23, 2018.