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prouvaireafterdark · 1 year ago

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Practical Ethics || Chapter Thirteen

In which Armand finally tells Daniel the truth. All of it.

Also on AO3!

***

The next week goes by in a blur.

Armand hardly remembers what happened that night. He knows the broad strokes, of course. He knows he witnessed some tender moment between Louis and Lestat. He knows Marius found him and brought him to his office. He knows they fought, that Marius strangled him, and that, in a golden moment of unconsciousness, he saw his mother’s face.

He also knows it was Louis who snapped him out of it and he knows, as unbelievable as it may be, that it was Lestat, of all people on this green Earth, who threw Marius off of him and beat him to a pulp. The hows and whys elude him somewhat, but he knows these things, at least, to be true.

The details of the aftermath, however—the ride to the hospital, the faces of the doctors and nurses who tended his wounds, the police officers who took his statement—are all muddled and fuzzy whenever he tries to recall them. Only Daniel’s warm presence at his side cuts through the fog, but when it got there, he couldn’t say.

The psychologist he’d been forced to see at the hospital called it a trauma response, his mind closing itself off after what happened to protect him. She offered him a referral to see a therapist for regular sessions, but Armand hasn’t called to make an appointment.

In truth, he doesn’t want to remember. The persistent ache he feels in his throat is all the reminder he can stand.

Cloistered in his bedroom at home, he oscillates between periods of sadness, anger, and a numb sort of detachment, cycling through emotions as unpredictable as the weather. He can’t remember a time he has ever felt so out of control, so at the mercy of the feelings rioting inside him.

He hates it.

Daniel is the only balm that soothes him. He sits with Armand all day, often carding his fingers through his curls as Armand rests his head on his chest and stares blankly into space or rubbing his back as his breath hitches with sobs he can no longer hold back.

He finds he cannot sleep without him either, tortured as he is with unsettling dreams. He often wakes in a cold sweat, his muscles tight with fear, or with tears in his eyes as the image of his mother fades from his mind, and without Daniel’s presence there to ground him and make him feel safe, he’s found that he can hardly fall asleep at all. The one night he’d tried, he’d ended up moving to the couch where Daniel was staying up to write something on his laptop and was only able to fall into a light and fitful sleep once his head was resting by Daniel’s hip, his fingers tucked under his thigh.

His dependence on Daniel only makes him feel more guilty, but the one time he tried to apologize for it, Daniel only reminded him of the times he pulled him out of bed at 3pm after a bender to help him shower and get ready for what was left of the day.

“It’s my turn to take care of you, okay?” he’d said, smiling as his warm palms cradled Armand’s face so he would know he was listening. “Just let me.”

Armand had nodded, too selfish to refuse him, but his conflicted feelings have been hard to set aside.

He sits now by the window sill that’s flush against his headboard as Daniel writes in the other room, his forehead pressed to the pane of glass that separates him from the outside world. He looks down at the street below with quiet fascination. The people look so small as they mill about, like ants that he could crush beneath his thumb. He covers a man holding a briefcase with the pad of his index finger, blotting him out of view, but he appears unharmed a moment later on the other side of his finger.

“Can I get you anything?” Daniel’s voice is soft, but it startles him nonetheless.

Armand reaches his hand out toward him without looking and is relieved to feel the bed dip under Daniel’s weight. He feels Daniel’s chest against his back as he comes up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist, his chin resting on Armand’s shoulder.

“What are we looking at?” Daniel asks him, peering through the window alongside him.

“Nothing,” Armand croaks, his voice rough from disuse. He threads their fingers together and closes his eyes, letting the comforting scent of Daniel’s cigarettes and cologne wash over him.

Armand is so tired all of a sudden. He has half a mind to urge Daniel back down the bed so he can tuck his head under his chin and try to sleep for a little while. It’s easier during the day—the shadows on the wall play tricks with his mind at night.

Before he can ask him, Daniel lets go of his hand and reaches around him to pick something up off the bed. Armand knows before Daniel brings it into his field of vision that it’s a piece of paper, smudged with graphite.

“Did you draw this?” Daniel asks him.

The face of a woman with familiar features stares back at Armand. He’d drawn it shortly after he’d gotten home from the hospital and had taken it out earlier to look at it while Daniel was working. It isn’t perfect—the bridge of her nose isn’t quite right now matter how hard he tries to fix it—but it’s a better likeness than he ever thought he’d be able to capture.

Armand nods in confirmation.

“Baby, this is incredible,” Daniel says, looking down at the sketch Armand has made, his tone full of awe. “Who is she?”

“My mother,” he answers.

Daniel nods, like it makes sense. “She looks like you.”

Armand feels his throat tighten with emotion. He does his best to swallow it down.

“You think so?” Armand asks, his voice delicate like glass.

Daniel nods again. “She looks so young though,” he comments. “I would have guessed she was your sister.”

The smile that curls Armand’s mouth is soft and sad. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen her.”

“Oh,” Daniel says, looking over at him suddenly with regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Armand shakes his head and turns to kiss him. The angle is awkward, but Armand doesn’t mind.

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells him when they part. “I should talk about her more.”

The crease in Daniel’s brow softens.

“I’d love to hear about her,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The corner of Armand’s mouth lifts once more into a smile before he leans in to kiss him again, hoping Daniel will understand how much that means to him.

“Should I put it on the end table so it doesn’t get wrinkled?” Daniel asks when Armand pulls away.

“Please,” Armand answers.

Without another word Daniel turns away from him to lay it gently down where it will be safe. He wraps his arm around Armand’s waist again and Armand threads their fingers together once more.

It’s peaceful for a moment, nothing but the sounds of their own breathing filling the air around them. Armand should have known it wouldn’t last.

“I have some news,” Daniel says hesitantly.

Armand squeezes Daniel’s hand.

“Tell me,” he says, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

Daniel takes a fortifying breath. “The SFPD called this morning with an update while you were in the shower. The DA is charging Marius with aggravated assault.”

The movement of Armand’s thumb stops.

“The university is going to be running its own investigation as well,” Daniel continues. “I talked to Louis and he seems confident they'll strip him of his tenure and fire him soon.”

“What?” Armand asks, panic setting in. He sits up straight and looks over his shoulder so he can see Daniel’s face properly. “But I didn’t press charges.”

“Doesn’t work that way, baby,” Daniel tells him. “I asked my mom about it and—”

“Your mother?” Armand interrupts, at a loss for why he would do such a thing and when the hell he had talked to so many people.

“Yeah, she’s a criminal prosecutor,” Daniel explains. “In New York, obviously, so not everything’s the same as in California, but she said that with the pictures they took of the crime scene, witness testimony, and the…” Daniel breaks off for a moment, swallowing thickly as his eyes jump down to the finger-shaped bruises still surrounding Armand’s neck before he continues, “the evidence they collected from you at the hospital, they have enough to charge Marius with a felony and the DA intends to prosecute. He might be able to plead out for a lesser charge or sentence, but he’s not getting away with this. Not like he has before. Louis was telling me about some other students who he suspected were…”

Daniel keeps talking, but Armand no longer hears him.

What have I done? Guilt crushes his lungs inside his chest as the question rattles around his head, over and over and over again. What have I done? What have I done?

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Daniel wraps his arms around him tighter and pulls him into his lap.

“Hey, hey,” Daniel says, turning him in his arms to look at him properly. “What’s wrong?”

Armand blinks, Daniel’s question momentarily snapping him out of it.

“Nothing,” he says, the words coming automatically. “I’m fine.”

Daniel huffs a miserable laugh.

“Baby… I mean this in the nicest way possible, but… you’re not fine,” Daniel says, looking at him with sad eyes. “You hardly speak. You hardly eat. You hardly sleep, and when you do, more often than not you have nightmares. And I just told you the piece of shit who hurt you is gonna pay and somehow you look more stressed out than you were before.”

Armand looks away from him and stares back outside the window. It’s starting to drizzle now, gray clouds gathering overhead and sending tiny raindrops down to earth. He watches one splatter against the window, blown sideways by the wind.

“It’s… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but…” Daniel continues, the words cautious and full of care. “I really think you should talk to someone.”

“I don’t need a therapist, Daniel,” Armand insists quietly.

“Yeah, you do,” Daniel replies. “I gotta be honest here, Armand, you’re really starting to scare me. You’re clearly going through a lot and I just… I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to take your pain away.”

Daniel’s voice grows more distressed with each word and tears well up in Armand’s eyes at the sound, his heart sinking a little heavier in his chest. He doesn’t want to be a burden, least of all to Daniel. Daniel deserves better than this. Better than him.

“Shit,” Daniel whispers as he watches Armand’s tears spill over his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” Armand begs him with a shake of his head, a soft and pleading sound. He can’t bear to hear Daniel apologize to him.

Daniel stops talking, though Armand can tell he has more to say.

Armand wipes at his eyes with the sleeves of his black sleep shirt and takes a deep breath. He’s quiet for a long time before he speaks.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Armand begins in a soft, frustrated voice. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

Daniel sits with that for a moment before he asks, “What was it supposed to be like? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, him flipping out on you was kind of inevitable.”

“What?” Armand stiffens. “No, it wasn’t.”

Daniel scoffs a little at that. “He’s a possessive, demeaning, abusive piece of shit. After everything he’s done to you the last year, did you think you would start working with Louis instead and he was just gonna be okay with that?”

“You say that like it’s absurd,” Armand says, bristling at Daniel’s words.

“Isn’t it?” Daniel asks, his voice managing to be gentle and incredulous at the same time.

Armand doesn’t answer, his eyes cast down at his own hands where he’s nervously twisting his rings.

“Armand,” Daniel sighs, covering his hands with one of his own. “He almost killed you. Probably would have if Louis didn’t forget something in his office. He deserves everything that’s coming to him and then some. Why can’t you see that?”

“You don’t know everything,” Armand argues quietly. “You don’t know what he saved me from.”

“Then tell me,” Daniel begs, a desperate edge to his voice.

Armand looks at Daniel then. He takes in the open and earnest expression he’s wearing as he asks him to lay bare all the secrets he’s kept inside for most of his life. His green eyes are rimmed red and he looks every bit as exhausted as Armand feels.

“Please,” Daniel asks him. “Help me understand.”

It takes effort, but eventually Armand does.

By the time he finishes speaking, the sun is hanging low in the sky and casting orange light through their bedroom window. Daniel is quiet where he sits beside Armand on the bed, breathing slowly through his nose. The expression on his face has grown darker with every passing minute Armand has dutifully recounted his life’s story—every horrific detail he can bear to remember.

Armand shifts a little where he sits on the bed. Daniel’s silence is beginning to unnerve him.

He seems angry. Armand doesn’t want him to be angry.

“Daniel?” Armand asks, his voice hesitant.

It seems to snap Daniel out of whatever’s going on inside his head. He lets out a shuddering breath and moves to get off the bed.

“I’m sorry, I—I need some air,” Daniel tells him, his voice shaking with barely contained fury.

“Oh,” Armand says, his heart sinking a little. “Okay.”

Without another word, Daniel walks out of the bedroom, taking all the light with him.

Armand jumps a moment later at the sound of the front door slamming behind him. He draws his limbs tighter into himself, and from the window he watches Daniel exit the building and disappear down the street, no effort made to shield himself from the rain.

That’s it then, Armand thinks. He’s leaving.

Panic and despair grip him all at once as the realization that he’s finally pushed Daniel too far sets in, creeping into his heart as the world around him grows clouded with a dark and purple haze.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, tears streaming quietly down his face before it occurs to him with a start that Daniel wasn’t carrying anything with him when he left.

If Daniel wasn’t carrying anything with him when he left, his laptop is still somewhere in Armand’s apartment.

If Daniel’s laptop is still somewhere in Armand’s apartment, he has to come back for it.

Right?

Armand launches himself out of bed and looks frantically around his living room. Relief floods through him as he sees Daniel’s laptop still sitting where he’d left it on the coffee table, the faded stickers plastered across its surface unmistakable.

Armand lifts Daniel’s laptop off the table and sits on the couch with his legs pulled up against his chest. He holds the computer close, caged between his chest and thighs. The edge of it feels cool against his cheek as he rests his head on his knees, his face turned to watch the door to his apartment. When Daniel returns for his things—and he will, he’ll have to—he won't be able to leave again. Not until he gives Armand the chance to fix this.

Armand loses track of time again as he waits, seconds bleeding into minutes that feel like hours. Anticipation and dread sit in his belly like lead, his stomach churning with nausea. His mind runs wild with regret, the imminent failure of his first real relationship tearing him apart, and his thoughts turn darker the longer he waits, fed as they are by the uncertainty that grows inside him with Daniel’s absence.

I never should have told him the truth.

I should have known it would ruin everything.

How could he still love me now that he knows where I’ve been, what I’ve done?

I can’t lose him.

Not like this.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I—

They should have let Marius kill me. That would have been a kinder fate than this.

The sun has disappeared, the room awash in shadows, when Armand finally hears a key in the lock. He hasn’t moved an inch in all this time, but now he lifts his head off his knees, his stomach clenching painfully, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Armand?” Daniel asks as he crosses the threshold and searches blindly for the light switch by the door.

The first thing Armand notices when the lights come on is that Daniel’s hair and his shirt at the tops of his shoulders are wet from the rain. The second is that he’s carrying a brown paper grocery bag mottled with raindrops, supporting it from the bottom like there’s something heavy inside it.

“There you are,” Daniel sighs a second later, smiling ever so slightly when he catches sight of Armand on the couch—a subtle upward turn to the corner of his mouth that, although it’s a small thing, makes the weight in Armand’s stomach feel just a little bit lighter.

Daniel walks past the small kitchen area and into the living room where Armand sits. He sets the bag down on the coffee table and sits next to him on the couch with a sigh.

Armand frowns as he watches water drip from the ends of Daniel’s hair. “You’re going to get sick,” he says, unable to help making the observation.

Daniel huffs a laugh at that. He seems to be in a better mood—or at least not angry like he was when he left—which Armand attributes to the weed and cigarette smoke he can now smell on him.

“Baby, I don’t think you should be worrying about me right now,” Daniel tells him. There’s a guilty look on his face, the one he gets when he feels like he’s fucked up somehow and doesn’t know how to make it right.

Armand doesn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“Are you high?” is what he ends up saying. He nearly cringes at his own question, but if he’s going to talk to Daniel, he needs to know.

“I was, for a bit. I needed to calm down and my American Spirits weren’t cutting it,” he says and digs his weed pen out of his pocket. “Do you want a hit?”

Armand declines with a shake of his head. He watches Daniel set it down on the table next to the bag before he settles back against the cushions next to him.

Every fiber of Armand’s being aches to reach out for Daniel, to beg him to stay, to remind him of how good things were once and of how good they can be again if only he gives Armand another chance, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Now that the time has come to make his case to save their relationship, he feels stricken with paralysis, the gravity of what might happen if he does or says the wrong thing nearly suffocating in its weight.

“Why are you holding my laptop?” Daniel asks suddenly, his tone layered with curiosity and confusion in equal measure.

Heat rises to Armand’s face as he realizes he’s still clutching it to his chest like a child would its blanket. He sets it down on the coffee table—far enough away from Daniel that it remains out of his reach—and wraps his arms tight around his knees again. He swallows before he answers.

“I knew you’d come back for it,” is all Armand can bring himself to say, his heart sick with shame and despair. Tears begin to gather in his eyes, blurring his vision until they spill over his cheeks.

He watches horror overtake Daniel’s expression as he seems to put the pieces of what Armand isn’t saying together for himself, his mouth going slack, a deep crease furrowing his brow.

“Oh fuck, baby, no,” Daniel says as he reaches for Armand, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him tight to his chest.

An undignified cry leaves Armand’s mouth as Daniel presses his face to his chest, one hand tangling into his curls to hold him close, the other rubbing his back like it has many nights this week. Armand wishes he could crawl inside Daniel’s ribs and make a home next to his heart, so close Daniel could never even hope to get rid of him.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel says, his own voice wavering with tears. “Fuck, I never should have left you alone like that, I didn’t mean—I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise. God, I love you so much, baby. Please don’t cry.”

Armand tries to stop, but the bone-deep relief he feels at hearing that Daniel isn’t leaving him, that he still loves him, only makes him cry harder. Between reliving his past as he told it to Daniel, watching him walk out the door without an explanation, and now this, it’s just—it’s too much. All he can do is muffle his sobs against Daniel’s shirt, his fingers gripping at the fabric so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t tear under his nails.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel says again. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Armand cries so long and so hard he nearly makes himself sick, until his tears run dry and he can do no more than lie weakly against Daniel’s chest, utterly exhausted. Daniel holds him through it all, whispering promises he doesn’t fully hear and pressing kisses to his hair.

They end up stretched out across the couch, Armand practically on top of Daniel. He isn’t sure when Daniel pulled the throw blanket down on top of them from the back of the couch, but the security that comes with Daniel beneath him, his arms around him, and something warm across his back makes Armand feel like he could drift off to sleep at any moment. He fights the urge, though. He can’t sleep now. Not yet.

Armand is quiet for a long time before he asks in a rough whisper. “Why did you leave?”

He feels Daniel take a deep breath, Armand’s head rising as his lungs fill with air.

“I’m so sorry,” he says a third time. “I’m such a dick. I didn’t mean to leave, I was just—I was so angry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Armand swallows as he processes that. He feels a little stab of pain in his heart, a tightness he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Are you still angry with me?” he asks, his voice small and brittle at the thought.

“What? No, Armand—” Daniel says, sounding disturbed, and then he’s rolling them over onto their sides so he can shift down the cushions and see Armand’s face properly. Armand’s head rests on Daniel’s bicep now and he looks up as Daniel cradles his cheek with his other palm. “I was never, ever angry with you, okay? You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why—?” Armand frowns, but Daniel interrupts him.

“I’m angry for you,” he explains, a fire suddenly in his eyes unlike any Armand has ever seen there before. “If I ever see that son of a bitch again, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Daniel,” Armand admonishes, pushing himself up on his elbow and looking down at him. “Did you not hear my story? Marius can be… domineering, yes, but… He saved me once too. I can’t ever forget that.”

“No, he groomed you,” Daniel argues. “There’s a huge fucking difference.”

Armand begins to feel a little like he can’t breathe. He sits up straight with his back against the couch and Daniel moves with him until they’re sitting side by side. He plants his feet on the ground, his elbows on his knees.

“I wouldn’t be here without him,” Armand tells the floorboards, the words coming out all on their own.

“Bullshit,” Daniel spits. “You got here on your own merit, because you’re a damn good scholar and you deserve to be here. If you won’t take my word for it, take Louis’.”

“No, I mean—” Armand shakes his head. “I’d still be in Paris or Venice or wherever else the Children of Satan told me to be. He pulled me out of a cult, Daniel.”

“Yeah, and into his bed,” Daniel all but shouts back and Armand winces at his choice of words and the vitriol in his voice. “Let’s not pretend he did it out of the goodness of his heart. You were young and vulnerable and he knew he could take advantage of you so he did.”

“Stop,” Armand tells him firmly, his heart racing in his chest. “That’s not—it wasn’t like that.”

“It was,” Daniel insists, and when Armand turns his head to face him he can see his bloodshot eyes are full of pain. “He met a boy who was stolen from his family and raised by devil worshippers in the fucking catacombs of Paris without any real idea of what a normal life is like and what did he do? Did he lift the wool from your eyes and encourage you to find out who you are? Did he teach you the skills you would need to go out and live your own life the way you wanted to? Did he, I don’t know, try to reunite you with your parents?”

Daniel doesn’t wait for an answer.

“No,” he continues. “He made you dependent on him because of the sick pleasure he got from dominating a teenager who didn’t have the skills or the knowledge or the resources to fight back or call him on his bullshit. He tried to shape you according to his own image, to make you into what he wanted you to be, just like the Children of Whatever-the-fuck-they’re-called did. And when that didn’t work, he convinced you that his anger and his violence was your fault, and then he abandoned you without a second thought, with no other support system that could have helped you.

“And all year he’s been back on his bullshit, gaslighting and abusing you because he’s still getting off on making you beg for scraps of his approval even though you’re twice the man and twice the scholar he could ever hope to be. He didn’t save you from anything, Armand. He’s just another monster who deserves to rot in jail for what he’s done to you and I promise you that if I have anything to say about it, he will.”

Daniel’s voice is raw and trembling by the time he finishes, his eyes bright with tears.

Armand doesn’t know what to say. It cuts him to hear Daniel lay out his life that way, as if it was nothing but a series of unceasing traumas accrued through his own inability to effectively stand up for himself.

He wants to deny it, to insist that Daniel is wrong, that Marius isn’t all the monster he makes him out to be, but how can he? How can he when Marius has been at the center of nearly every nightmare he’s had in the last nine months? When he’s the reason it still hurts every time he swallows?

“I…” Armand starts, but the words die in his throat. His heart continues to race in his chest and his eyes begin to burn again, his vision blurring around the edges.

He hears more than sees Daniel let out a sympathetic sigh beside him.

“Come here,” Daniel says, his voice gentle now, all the fire snuffed out. He sits back against the couch and Armand lets him tug him back into his arms.

Armand settles heavily against his chest and wraps an arm around his waist, his brain buzzing with too many thoughts to make sense of. He feels Daniel’s fingers in his hair then, his blunt fingernails scratching lightly across his scalp.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel apologizes, bending down to press a kiss to Armand’s forehead. “Now’s not the time for all that. I just want you to know that I love you and I’m not going anywhere, okay? Everything else can wait.”

Armand sniffles a little as a few more tears leak from his eyes. He tightens the arm he has around Daniel’s waist and closes his eyes, focusing on the soft, steady sound of Daniel’s heart beating beneath his ear and the feeling of his fingers running through his hair. It helps more than it has any right to.

“I love you too,” Armand tells him some time later, when his breathing has returned to normal and he feels a little more like himself.

“I know, baby,” Daniel says and he reaches for Armand’s hand then.

He lifts it from the dip of his waist and together they find the shape of the amulet Armand gave him beneath the soft fabric of Daniel’s t-shirt. He places Armand’s hand over it and then covers his hand with his own.

Armand traces over the embossed A with the tip of his finger through the fabric. Every day he wears this is a reminder that nothing important has really changed—that Daniel is still his, and he is still Daniel’s. Not for the first time, Armand is incredibly grateful he decided to buy it for him.

He lifts his head and presses a kiss to Daniel’s neck, the closest place he can reach, before he settles back against his chest. When he does, his eyes are drawn once more to the brown paper grocery bag sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

“What’s in the bag?” Armand asks curiously.

“Oh, right,” Daniel says. “Do you want me to show you?”

Armand nods and sits up on his own so Daniel can move. He watches as Daniel opens up the bag and reaches inside to pull out an entire red velvet cake encased in a clear plastic dome.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” Daniel explains, the words coming out in a rush, like he’s embarrassed, “but I know it’s your favorite and, I don’t know, I just thought maybe it would make you feel a little better.”

Armand looks from the cake back to Daniel, struck speechless by what he sees.

“Daniel,” he says after he processes it for a moment, feeling a little insane, “are you telling me that while I was sitting here convincing myself that hearing my life’s story somehow made you stop loving me, you were actually, for some of that time at least, at a grocery store buying me a red velvet cake to cheer me up?”

Daniel visibly winces. “Yeah?” he says, the end of the syllable turning up like a question.

Armand is quiet for another charged moment before he laughs suddenly, the sound bubbling up from inside his chest without permission. Once he starts, he can’t seem to stop, and soon there are tears leaking from his eyes as his shoulders shake and he starts to laugh and cry all at once.

“Armand, are you—?” Daniel asks after a minute, but Armand cuts him off with a long, hard kiss that tastes like salt.

“Go get some forks,” Armand tells him when he pulls away, still smiling as he dries his tears with his sleeve.

“Yes, boss,” Daniel grins and stands to do as he’s told.

Armand’s eyes linger on Daniel’s back as he walks into the kitchen and rifles through their silverware drawer. He returns a minute later with two forks and passes one to Armand as he sits back down, close enough that their shoulders brush.

Armand’s head is pounding from crying so much and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so tired, but as he digs his fork into the cake Daniel bought him and finally takes a bite, none of that matters.

All that matters is that, even after Armand told him the whole story, even after he showed him the deepest, darkest parts of himself, Daniel is still here. He still loves him. And he isn’t going anywhere.

Everything else can wait.

#the vampire armand #daniel molloy #devil's minion #devil's minion fic #interview with the vampire #ethics professor louis fic

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meltotheany · 9 months ago

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Goodreads | Amazon US | B&N | Blackwell’s | Bookshop ARC provided by the publisher via Netgalley i feel like all my friends who also loved this one, were all by my side here on goodreads, back in the early 2010s, reading all the paranormal romances known to man (or that our moms kept on their bookshelves). the nostalgia for books like riley jenson, black dagger brotherhood, kate daniels were so very felt. yet, this book completely stands on its own and is a really good book that i highly recommend. and this book had so many of my favorite paranormal romance trope sets – forbidden romance, bonded fated mates, and of course a marriage of convenience between our two main characters: ➛ misery – vampyre who has been living amongst humans her whole life, but finds herself as the key component in an alliance that will keep the peace with her people, while also having her own human inspired agenda for this forced arrangement. ➛ lowe – werewolf alpha who is still asserting his new dominance over his people, while also trying to assess who he can trust or not, while also being an amazing caretaker for his little sister. “I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.” and they had me truly rooting for them, unable to put this book down, after the very first scene of them together. but this also has a pretty big mystery plotline that took me by surprise, and also completely enthralled me. and ultimately this had such a big emphasis on found family and finding your own pack of people you love and trust unconditionally that i feel like i just ended up loving the entire cast of side characters too. let’s just embrace the bullet points and quickly talk about other things i really loved:➛ obviously vampires and werewolves➛ arranged marriage but forbidden romance➛ one bed scene(s)➛ the cutest little sibling ever➛ the sweetest brother and sister relationship x2➛ and also a really heartwarming found family / best friend relationship⤷ It was truly giving bryce and danika but better➛ a big appreciation of peanut butter➛ an amazing epilogue that will hopefully set up a book two in this world i will say that there was a very unnecessary and annoying third act conflict that just didn’t make sense to me (and made me side eye lowe a little), but i still really enjoyed this one and it was such a fast paced read that really tugged at my heartstrings in all the found family ways. i think i just really like ali hazlewood’s stories, and i always end up connecting with them on some level, and that just enhances my reading experience each and every time. i recommend this to all my romance friends, but i extra recommend it to all my pnr friends who want a little extra nostalgia on top of a really good story. lastly, and least importantly, if i ever dated anyone named misery, i feel like i would have to send hayley williams or paramore royalties. because the way misery business was living in my head rent free while reading this was actually insane. content warnings from the author (please use caution for potential spoilers): death of several people within the context of a war between different species (vampires, werewolves, and humans) is mentioned, several mentions of blood, kidnapping, mild violence, poisoning and attempted murder, attempted kidnapping/harming of a child (she is unharmed), death of a parent (off page in the past and off page in the present), explicit and graphic sexual content, knotting (the mmc’s apparatus is not quite human?), cursing and vulgar language other trigger + content warnings i found while reading (ali’s books really do have such good tws – ...

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#2024 #Ali Hazelwood #ARC #ARC Review #Book Blog #Book Blogger #Book Review #Book Reviewer #bride #meltotheany #Netgalley #Paranormal #paranormal romance #PNR #Romance #Signed Books #Vampires #werewolf

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arrhakis · 1 year ago

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The Baroque Portuguese Roosters - The Missing Porcelain Collection of Queen Dona Amélia by Daniel Arrhakis (2023)

Dona Maria Amélia (French: Marie Amélie Louise Hélène; 28 September 1865 – 25 October 1951) was the last Queen consort of Portugal as the wife of Carlos I of Portugal.

She was regent of Portugal during the absence of her spouse in 1895.

She was the eldest daughter of Prince Philippe, Count of Paris and Princess Marie Isabelle d'Orléans, and a "Princess of Orléans" by birth.

On 22 May 1886, Amélia married Carlos, Prince Royal of Portugal. He was the eldest son of King Luís I of Portugal and Maria Pia of Savoy.

As queen, however, Amelia played a very important role. With her elegance and cultured character, she influenced the Portuguese court.

Interested in eradicating the evils of the time, such as poverty and tuberculosis, she founded dispensaries, sanatoriums, economic kitchens and daycare centers, thus demonstrating her interest in the well-being of the Portuguese population.

However, his best-known works are the foundations of the Instituto de Socorros a Náufragos (in 1892); the Royal Coach Museum (1905); the Pasteur Institute in Portugal (Instituto Câmara Pestana) and the National Assistance for Tuberculosis.

On 1 February 1908, the royal family returned from the palace of Vila Viçosa to Lisbon. They traveled in the royal train to Barreiro and from there took a boat to cross the Tagus River.

They disembarked at Cais das Colunas in the principal square of downtown Lisbon, the Terreiro do Paço.

On their way to the Palace of Necessidades, while crossing the square and turning to the street, several shots were fired from the crowd by at least two men, among others.

The King died immediately, his heir Prince Dom Luís was mortally wounded and Infante Dom Manuel was hit in the arm, yet Queen Amélie surprisingly unharmed trying to defend her youngest son, the new king Manuel II, with the flower bouquet she kept in her hand.

Her reaction at the time of the regicide was to brandish the bouquet of flowers she was carrying in her hand and shout at one of the regicides to back down, an image that made the covers of newspapers across Europe.

The regicide of 1908 plunged her into deep grief, from which D. Amélia never fully recovered. She then retired to the Palácio da Pena, in Sintra, without ceasing, however, to try to support, by all means, her young son, King D. Manuel II.

Manuel II of Portugal was deposed by a military coup, later known as the 5 October 1910 revolution, which resulted in the establishment of the Portuguese First Republic. Queen Amélie left Portugal with the rest of the royal family, embarks in Ericeira on the yacht Amélia, heading for Gibraltar.

She lived decades of suffering in exile, between England and France. During the Second World War the Portuguese government of Salazar invited her to return to Portugal, but she declined the offer replying “In my misfortune, France welcomed me, I will not abandon her in her misfortune”.

She visited Portugal for the last time in 1945. In 1951 at the time of her death, her last words were “Take me to Portugal”. She is buried in the Bragança pantheon, in São Vicente de Fora.

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In the midst of this tragedy, I decided to create a collection of porcelain roosters in her honor. Whether it exists or not will remain in the secret of History and Stories.

In France since ancient times, the rooster has appeared on Gallic coins and it became a symbol of Gaul and the Gauls.

But also in Portugal since the Middle Ages, with emphasis on the medieval legend of the Rooster of Barcelos.

The rooster is also considered the symbol of Portugal, both because of its rusticity, representing our countryside and because it is traditionally associated with positive things and virtues.

You can find it on many facades of secular churches in Portugal.

Queen Dona Amélia had a very special adoration for porcelain roosters and throughout her life in Portugal between the Palaces of Pena and Vila Viçosa, many evenings were spent drawing and painting , like King D. Carlos.

Her roosters drawn and painted by her were later reproduced by great Portuguese ceramists as unique pieces that were then part of her extensive collection and one of Queen Dona Amélia's best kept secrets.

"My Beautiful Baroque Roosters" as she called them were left behind at the Pena Palace, after her departure into exile, with the exception of a few specimens, which she took on the Dona Amélia Yacht on her initial trip to Gibraltar.

With time and the vicissitudes of the revolutionary times of the First Republic, Queen Dona Amélia's collection of Portuguese Baroque Roosters disappeared without a trace, until today when I present you a glimpse into this collection created in dreams...

Each Rooster has the name of a Portuguese municipality or locality.

I hope you like it ! : )

(via The Baroque Portuguese Roosters - The Missing Porcelain Co… | Flickr)

#flickr

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vroomvroommbtch · 3 years ago

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Always been you - DRxfem driver!reader

Masterlist

Summary: She loved the rain, but she hated races with rain. She hated every single thing that happened that cloudy day in Italy, at least until Daniel changed everything in a second.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem driver!reader

Warnings: Some angst, swearing and Gio being the coolest BFF in the universe.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: I was supposed to be writing charter 18, but this happened in the middle after a happy/sad race for my papaya heart. Couldn't get it outta my head and this happened. Its probably a big mess so bare with me, kiddos. Also I miss Gio, so I had to add him in this. Whatever, I hope you like it, enjoy, and let me know what you think! And I promise to be back with chapter 18 of SIG soon! Okay bye! ✌🏻

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Always being you.

There were counted things that she hated almost as much as crushing on races. When anyone of the other nineteen drivers on the grid crushed everyone said it was racing and part of the sport; but when she crushed it was a completely different story. There it wasn’t something that happened; it was because ‘women weren’t as good at driving as men’. It was because she wasn’t made for the sport and didn't deserve that seat. She hated crushing or touching someone else’s car, but when she touched Daniel, it just felt worse. Between the craziness that always came with the start of the race, turn one, the rain and slippery track, it just happened. She couldn’t help it even if she tried, and really tried. That’s how she ended up touching Daniel’s car, which made him end up touching Carlos’ car. It was racing and she knew it, but she couldn’t help but feel awful. The only thing she could do was push it to the back of her head when it happened. She needed to focus on her race, so she did. She managed to get unharmed from the incident, put her full focus on driving the sixty-three laps that she had ahead and get in the points, which was nothing but absolutely wonderful considering the complicated year her team had the previous year. She was happy for her P5 considering it was her best finish since she was in Formula 1. It was the best finish she had since her F2 days when podiums and trophies were her thing, but it got tainted as soon as she found out Daniel finished P18. He finished last because she ruined his race. She wanted to apologize to Daniel as soon as she got out of the car, but she couldn’t because he was talking with Mick and Sebastian. Same thing happened in the pen, but every time she tried, he was in some interview, and then every time he was free, she was the one busy. Even when she couldn’t do it, she made sure to say in front of every single camera that she was absolutely sorry about what happened. She made sure she said she was going to apologize to Carlos too, because she was going to do it, but also because she knew she needed to name him and not just Daniel. She needed to do it because it was the right thing to do, but also because the whole Alfa Romeo press team was gonna kill her if she didn’t do it. Being the only woman on the grid not only included the sexist and misogynist comments but also the rumors. From the first day she stepped into the paddock for the first-time during winter testing four years earlier, the press always somehow found a way to make rumors about her love life. Normally the rumors included her and Antonio, but she understood it happened because they were best friends. They used to laugh their asses off about it because more than once people thought they were more than friends, but one day it stopped being fun. It happened when it seemed like she couldn’t spend more than five minutes talking with another driver because the next day there was gonna be rumors and even questions about her dating, whoever was the new chosen guy, no matter if she was seeing someone or one of the other drivers had a girlfriend. First was Charles, then Pierre, then Lando, and then George, but the only recurrent name besides Antonio’s was Daniel’s.

She knew the fact that they were teammates didn’t help. The fact that they were really good teammates made everything worse and as time passed and they became really good friends, it just made the situation worse. As everyone talked about Carlando, the other super team on the grid was them. It gave the Renault’s press team more than one headache, but they were a couple of mischiefs together. They were always joking and chatting. They were always pushing each other to become better drivers and doing every single thing in their power to push the team forward even when the conditions weren’t the best, for more than one reason. They even went out together to do stuff, and that’s why people and the press ended up placing his name next to hers. It was always Daniel's and for Antonio it was nothing but hilarious. Antonio knew her crush for Daniel, but he kept the secret as a good friend. He only sent her an accomplice look every time they were in the paddock and she and Daniel were too close to each other. Antonio was also the one who asked and insisted that she should say something and try to make a move with Daniel. He was the one who understood when she said she didn’t want to ruin their friendship, make things complicate and jeopardize her career but he was also the one who knew that deep down that wasn’t the only reason. She didn’t need to say anything because Antonio knew and he was the one who hugged her when they saw Daniel and some blonde girl at some party in Monaco. Everyone knew Monaco was a small place and they normally went out to the same places, but she wasn’t expecting to see that scene right in front of her. Antonio was the one who insisted they should leave because they didn’t need a damn party to have fun; they could always go home and find something on Netflix or play some video games or go straight to sleep, but as some kind of masochist she wanted to stay. It took his best friend and favorite Italian a good amount of time and insistence, but then she decided that it was time to leave. She was staying there to convince herself that she could get over him and her crush, that she didn’t need any coming from him, but deep down she was dying to be in the blonde girl’s shoes. She wasn’t drunk for obvious reasons, but after a couple beers, and once they were back at their place, she admitted to Antonio that the exact reason why she didn’t say anything to Daniel was simple. She knew he could have any girl he ever wanted, and she knew he wasn’t going to want the girl who was racing as his teammate. She said between tears she didn’t want to end up with her heart broken like she was, but the plan failed miserably.

Things between her and Daniel didn’t change between them after that night. She didn’t want him to see a change in her attitude towards him and Daniel didn’t have any fault because he was just living his life, so everything stayed the same. The only thing that changed was her attitude on the track. Maybe it was because she was mad at everything and nothing at the same time, but all that was shown on her driving. She ended up being more aggressive and bolder, which took her to get more and more points, but never took her to a podium. Antonio was also the one who held her when she lost her seat on Renault. The team was changing and rebranding, Cyril was leaving, Esteban was coming back in Daniel’s place when he decided to leave for McLaren and then Alonso decided he wanted to come back and the only one left over in the equation was her. She knew how Formula 1 worked; she knew nobody’s place was promised for forever because it was like the musical chairs game, but it hurt to lose her place. It hurt when she was doing everything and more in her power to improve and take the team to a better place than it was. What also hurt was knowing she was going to lose Daniel as her teammate and she didn’t hide it away. After two years of working together there was no need to hide it, but she threw it away in form of jokes and silly comments. She made that every single time someone asked about it, not really caring if a camera was there, and that only made the rumors worse, but she ignored it.

What she couldn’t ignore were Daniel’s eyes one morning after he took her to a side and asked if she was really mad at him about leaving. It happened right after they recorded some interviews and one of the questions was how she was feeling about going to Alfa Romeo with Antonio but not being teammates with Daniel anymore. She made a silly comment, threw a joke; they both laughed, and kept going with the next question, answering again what was their favorite circuit. She knew Daniel enough to know he was really worried when he asked if she was really mad at him, but what she wasn’t expecting was the look on his eyes when she brushed it off with a simple ‘I’m not mad at you, D. We’re friends and that’s not gonna change because we're on different teams’. She wasn’t silly; she could see how his eyes changed when she said the word ‘friends’ but she decided to brush it off, just like the question. She convinced herself that being away from Daniel was going to be good to make her forget her silly crush about him. Besides, being on the same team with her best friend was a dream that came true, so it was good. She repeated that it was going to be okay, and in part it was. The season ended, winter break came and she tried as bad as possible to forget about Daniel, and she almost did. Almost, because as soon as she ran into him on the circuit in Bahrein, it all came back to her. She wanted to punch herself or even ask Antonio to punch her as she felt the butterflies and the knock in her stomach, but seeing Daniel was as good as any punch. They waved at each other, and his ‘Sorry I can’t hug you, Cherry’ was the biggest punch she could ever receive. He had to go and use that silly nickname that he had invented for her. She couldn’t help but remember those first days at Renault when they were trying to get along and Daniel was trying his best to make her feel welcome in her first year on F1. He was trying to make her feel like one more and not a rookie, and he did it. He did it and it all started with one silly cherry lollipop.

It happened after their first photoshoot they did together for Renault when Daniel spent the day dancing as they took pictures of them. She spent the morning whispering she was insane but laughing her ass off as he moved with the music. To make her get loose, Daniel made her dance with him as if photographers weren't surrounding them, cameras recording and people on the team. It worked; God knew it worked to the point she almost forgot how much she didn’t really like that part of her job. Her favorite photo of that day ended up being one where Daniel was with his arm around her shoulders, trying to get his index finger in her ear as she was holding his face with one hand right on his cheek. It was stupid, but she loved it. Once the day was over, she was eating a lollipop as she was ready to leave the building, but Daniel followed her, asking how she was feeling after all the pictures, videos and dancing. She said she was really happy and that the photoshoots were actually better when they included a dance party. She had no idea how it happened, but she took the lollipop out of her mouth for a second, and the next thing she knew, Daniel was stealing it from her hand and placing it right in his mouth. With the cheekiest grin on his face, he affirmed ‘We’re gonna be good friends, Cherry’ as he winked at her before he walked away, leaving her tongue tied and with her jaw hanging.

He didn’t stop calling her Cherry after that, but never in public. Only once did she have the courage to ask why he only called her like that in private, and his answer was as simple and short as ‘I’m not letting anyone else use that nickname with you’ and his answer was enough, so she never complained. Once they went their separate ways, she wasn’t expecting Daniel to call her like that, but there he was, throwing her that holy nickname in front of Antonio.

She really thought her friendship with Daniel was going to be over as soon as they went their separate ways, but somehow it didn’t. As soon as the season started again, it also did the texts, comments on pictures on Instagram and the silly little talks any time they could while they were in the paddock. What she wasn’t expecting was their worst year in Formula 1 to bring them closer. Hers and Antonio’s year at Alfa Romeo wasn’t as good as they were expecting, just like Daniel’s year at McLaren. As the races came and went, she used to make jokes trying to make them both feel better. She would say that at least he won seven Grand Prix more than her; that at least his car was actually fast, and that he was able to get points, not like her. Every single time he would smile at her, saying things were going to get better, and she believed him. Heaven knew that she really believed him and any word that came from his mouth. She was ready to believe in anything he said as long as he smiled at her. Just when the rumors about her seemed to disappear or at least calm down, they fucked it up going to have dinner on their own. She wasn’t expecting to find a text from Daniel when she was in United States for summer break, but it happened. She was in Los Angeles too, but she never said a thing to Daniel about it when some weeks earlier he asked her plans. She said she was going to the beach and nothing else, but then she made a post on Instagram while she was on the beach. That’s when, five minutes later, she got a text that said ‘Dinner tonight?’ and she couldn’t say no. She knew it was just a friendly dinner, but they made the wrong decision of going out instead of having dinner at his house or at the place she was renting. Even if they went to a really private place and kept it low-key, someone recognized him and the rumors went back. She was pissed because if the guys on the grid went to have dinner it was just a bunch of boys having a night out, but if she did the same then she was fucking the guy. She was pissed, but she decided to ignore it and just focus on the memory of how happy and handsome Daniel looked that night in the chair right in front of her.

Things eventually got better, at least for him. She couldn’t help but hug the hell out of him when he won Monza. She felt as happy as if she or Antonio had won, hitting Daniel’s helmet as they hugged in the parc fermé, yelling over their helmets how much he deserved it because he really deserved it. On that Italian circuit she decided that if people wanted to invent shit, they could write whatever they wanted, and damn, they did. Speculation after speculation was written down, but she ignored it over the happiness she had for him. But just when she thought things were getting better, at least for one of them, it all went to hell in one single day. Like every single time, she ignored the silly season, but one day she and Antonio found out one of them was going to lose their seat. She didn’t want to believe it; she actually wanted to ignore it, but it was all true. She was thankful to have her best friend by her side, but damn, it was hard to know one of them was going to be out. It was their dream to be there and it was their dream to be teammates, but after the last race it was all going to be over. When it all happened, the last thing she was expecting was Daniel being the one promising her that everything was going to be fine. She also wasn’t expecting him to be her shoulder to cry on when she found out Antonio was leaving. It happened one night when she didn’t want to bother her team and she ended up knocking at his motorhome, not really knowing where else to go. That’s when they reached a level of friendship she wasn’t expecting to reach, but she loved it, even if she wanted to be more than friends with him. When the new season started, Daniel was also the one making her smile every time he could when she felt weird for not seeing Antonio there. She knew Antonio technically was there sometimes, doing his thing in the Ferrari garage, but it wasn’t the same as doing silly interviews and press with him. They would wave to each other, hug fast and tightly as they walked by each other, and promise to catch up later, but once it was all over she felt weird. It wasn’t as funny as before, but Daniel was the one stuck by her side every second he could, talking to her about everything and then some to keep her mind away from things because he knew her mind was everywhere and probably over-worrying about every single possible thing. That’s why she felt nothing but terrible when she was crushed into him. Daniel didn’t deserve to end up P18, but it happened and it was her fault. The first thing she did as soon as she could, and before she went back to the hospitality for the debriefing, was go to the red building in the paddock. She apologized to Carlos for a short moment, and as soon as it was all fixed and settled, she went to the orange building. She felt terrible asking if she could come inside to see Daniel for a second. She felt terrible walking into the Ferrari’s building, but she felt worse going into the McLaren’s one. She felt as if she had a scarlet letter right in her chest, letting everyone know she was the guilty one for what happened. She had to wait by the door as someone obviously asked Daniel if he wanted to talk to her and those seconds felt like an eternity. It was cold, she was tired and she still had hours ahead to work and then a fly back to Monaco, but all she wanted was to do was see Daniel and then sleep.

She was thinking how much she missed her pillow when the glass door opened and someone in an orange uniform told her to come in because Daniel was in his room waiting for her. She tried to keep a straight face, knowing perfectly fine there were cameras everywhere behind her, all of them dying to record the ‘friends fixing things after the fucked up’ encounter. She tried as much as she could, but then she knocked at his door; she was terrified. The seconds waiting for him to answer felt like an eternity, but then she heard a ‘Come in!’ from the other side, which made her open slightly the door, enough to give her room for her head. She was expecting Daniel to be absolutely pissed at her, and he had all the right to be, but it wasn’t the case. He looked like he was tired like always after a race. She was also expecting to be with his team, but he was all alone, which, in part, made her get more scared.

“Hey Dan, you have a minute?” she murmured, her voice being a mix of tiredness, worry, and fear. The last thing she wanted Daniel to get mad at her, so she was even scared to speak too loudly and ruin the silence of the room. “Just come in, kiddo” he affirmed, getting up to open the door enough for her to walk in. “If you stay outside, they’ll film everything, so come in” She knew he was right, so there was no point in arguing about anything, so all she did was walk inside and wait for him to close the door behind them. She knew there was no much time, they both had things to do and she had to leave that hospitality before it was worse and before people started talking again, so she tried to find the perfect way to apologize. “Dan, I’m so fucking sorry. I just-” she breathed, finding impossible to explain what happened even if both of them just knew. “The car just slipped, mate. I knew you were in front of me and couldn't fucking stop it. I couldn’t hit the brakes or it was gonna we worse, but I swear I tried, Dan. I’m so fucking sorry” she apologized.

She was normally good with words, but this time she was a complete disaster. Not only did she feel terrible for what had happened; she also was absolutely nervous to be in front of Daniel. It had been so long since they had been alone in a room that she felt shy. That added to the guilt she was feeling made her an absolute mess, not being able to make a logical phrase. The fact that Daniel was looking nothing but perfectly and absolutely handsome wasn’t really helping. His race suit was half undone and around his waist, his curls were a beautiful mess, and the white fireproof was leaving too little to the imagination. Besides, his stubble was a bit longer than usual and for a second she asked herself again how it would feel against her skin, but she had to stop herself and focus on the important issue. “It's fine, Cherry” he started, and the second her nickname left his lips she felt like a weight leaving her shoulders. “It’s racing, this shit happens. I know it wasn’t on purpose or any of that. I know you and know you wouldn’t do that, so no hard feelings” Daniel smiled tiredly, pinching her cheeks with his fingers as he was sitting at the massage table, right in front of where she was standing. Daniel always did that. Every single time she was feeling bad about something, he would say something to cheer her up and then he would pinch her cheek to make her smile. It always worked because feeling her fingers onto her skin never failed to make her smile, but this time it wasn’t enough. But even when she didn’t smile, the butterflies on her stomach suddenly woke up, but there was also no time for that, so she ignored it. “I know this shit happens, but goddamn, I feel like shit. God knows the last thing I ever wanted to do was fuck up your race. I mean, it’s you, D. I can’t fuck it up with you, mate” she exhaled, scratching the back of her head thanks to the nervousness she was feeling. “What do you mean it's me?” It took her a moment to realize what had happened. It took her a second to realize she had lowered her guard. It took her just one look to realize Daniel knew. She could see in his eyes that he knew she wasn’t just talking about racing. After all those years, after all the times, Antonio insisted that she should say something, and after more than one flirty thing that happened to them, that was her change. It was her change to jump to the pool. If it didn’t have water, then all she had to do was run from there, act like nothing happened, and then avoid Daniel for the rest of her or his career. But she couldn’t risk losing her chance if there was actual water there. She knew there was a small percentage of having a change, so she decided to take a leap of faith for once in her life. “It's you. Since the day we met at the factory in Enstone. It’s always been you, Dan” she finally admitted. And damn, how happy she was that she finally did it. Just like that day when he stole her cherry lollipop, Daniel didn’t ask for permission. He got up from the table, placed one hand on her lower back, the other on the back of her head, their bodies together, and then his lips over hers. The soft moan that left her lips when they kissed was nothing but pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. He kissed her like a man on a mission, almost desperate to make it up for the lost time. In that second, and as their lips and tongues moved together, he couldn’t help but wonder if Daniel had been waiting for as long as she was, but she wasn’t going to waste time on questions. No when his hands had her hair and her race suit in a tight grip. Not when she was finally able to lip and bite his lower lip as she always dreamt about. No when her own hands were holding onto his back for dear life, but especially not when he smiled against her lips as they moved away just enough to catch their breath. “I need to go. Everyone its outside and press and debrief and shit” she murmured out of breath, stealing one last kiss, in part because he was absolutely addictive and in part because she wanted to do it again and prove it wasn’t all a mistake or a dream. “Are you gonna be in Monaco this week?” Daniel asked her in the lowest voice, surely trying to keep it quiet in case someone was near the door. The last thing they needed was more rumors, but as he looked down at her, she wanted to go and scream from the rooftops so everybody would know. She didn’t have the strength to talk again, so she kept looking at him and nodded twice, letting him know that she was gonna spend the week in Monaco. “Dinner?” This time she nodded again, but instead of leaving, she kissed him again.

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#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #formula 1 one shot

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ibrithir-was-here · 2 years ago

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(So this one ended up having pretty much nothing to do with the prompt, and almost everything for setting up the background of this AU xD

But i hope ya'll like it anyway as it's what will likely start bringing in some plot sporadically between the fluff)

Languid

Golden eyes, bright with a hunter's focus, followed the small bright spark that was Daniel Hall as he toddled along after the tall dark shadow of the Lord of Dreams. The eyes narrowed as Dream bent to pull the child up into his arms, and blazed with fury as they observed a languid smile slowly stole across the pale face, the stars in Dream's dark eyes sparkling with that most appalling of all emotions--

Contentment.

Desire withdrew from their clandestine viewing of the pair with a hiss of contempt. It wasn't fair. How could their plans have backfired so utterly?!

Burgess had failed to break Dream's spirit, Rose had failed to make him spill family blood, and--while it hadn't been their own machinations that set Dream's latest brush with their sister's gift into motion--that thrice cursed enameled nightmare had returned the bouncy baby brat to its mother whole and unharmed, before her mind could be broken down into a fury of vengeance by The Kindly Ones and unleashed them upon Desire's insufferable sibling.

Not only had all these events failed to permanently cut Dream down to size, they'd actually ended up benefitting him-- by robbing Desire of what should have been rightfully theirs.

Like Rose and Jed Walker, Desire's own flesh and blood. True they'd never taken much interest in them outside of the role the two played in Desire's plans, but they were still Desire's. What right did Dream have to lay claim to their affections, to the point they called him "uncle", and sought his advice and attention and not their great grand parent's?

And Hob Gadling, the mortal who'd been pining for literal decades after Dream; ice-cold untouchable Dream, who hadn't even graced the immortal with his name. His frustrated desire so many centuries had aged into the finest of wines, ripe for Desire to savor for the rest of eternity--until Dream, apparently moved by his imprisonment, had finally reached out and not only deigned to give Gadling his name but eventually returned his adoration as well!

All that beautiful aching want, both physical and emotional, suddenly satisfied. It was like having that fine wine go sour while you were still drinking it.

And now there was Daniel.

Daniel, whose death at the hands of the Tricksters would have granted Desire and dear Despair and even poor Delirium an excellent toy in the form of a grieving, vengeance craving Lyta Hall, who's thirst for Morpheus's blood would have at least done some beautiful damage to his precious Dreaming.

And imagine, if Dream hadn't allowed his new immortal lover to end poor Orpheus, if he'd done it himself, like the prideful king he'd been of old, and then Lyta Hall in her madness had called down the Kindly Ones on him with his own son's blood soaking his hands…oh the thwarted possibilities sent Desire nearly into a swoon of want.

But instead the boy had been rescued, amends and understanding had been made between Lyta Hall and the being whose realm had made her son's existence even possible; and now, now after all Dream's millenia of mourning the loss of his son, of wading through an unending deluge of wishing, wanting, desiring so much that things could have been different, that he could have a second chance -- now Dream had one.

Orpheus was at peace, and Dream could finally begin to heal from the loss, surrounded by new family and friends, a lover who adored him and could never die, and a new child to cherish and guide, protect and love. His realm was more vibrant and overflowing than it had been even before his imprisonment, a reflection of the Dream Lord's new found happiness.

It. Wasn't. Fair.

And it most certainly wasn't over.

#endless heirs au #my writing #the sandman spoilers #sandman #desire of the endless #dream of the endless #morpheus #daniel hall #lyta trevor #lyta hall #hob gadling #dreamling #rose walker #jed walker #the corinthian #orpheus the sandman

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eveenstar · 3 years ago

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We either die like idiots, or run away like cowards (Operatorverse x f!reader) (Part 1)

Summary: After finishing recording a short film for a project, you and your small group of friends decide to visit an abandoned house just for fun, like the dumb idiots you all are.

Tags/Warns: Please for the love of god don't be like me and my friends who went there completely bare to any sort of weapons to defend ourselves. The protagonist is described as using a veil sometimes, but her religion is up to you.

A/N: Based on real life events (no we were not attacked and we left completely unharmed!), I just added a little bit more ✨spice✨. Look I swear I'm not back at my creepypasta phase, I swear trust me- NOT PROOF READ! Posting this at 1 am so I'll give it some proper editing after I wake up, just wanted to get this up today.

"You sure it is abandoned?" You asked, your feet aching from the heavy high heel boots you had been wearing. Your friend Daniel hesitated for a bit and stumbled on his words.

"Well, huh, it is abandoned - but there's a tiny chance we can meet some addicts or homeless people." You laughed sarcastically while your other two friends kept silence. "Hey, at least I'll get to use these bad boys" you waved to the plastic lightsabers sticking out of your bag.

As you arrived to the abandoned house, who according to Daniel used to be an orphanage, two of your friends refused to get in. Lydia and Samantha promised they'd wait for you both outside, and to make sure to warn you two if they saw someone else going in - of course, you expected them to stay behind, after all they were the most responsible of the group. Not that you were completely irresponsible, no, you were one of the oldest of the group and you tried to keep everyone safe but let's be honest, you are all still kids, and even the best of the best do stupid shit like exploring possible dangerous houses sometimes.

"There are three possible entries," You followed Daniel through the rough, green path. "We'll check the ones on the right first."

"If they shut the building off, how come there are three active entry points?" You questioned, taking a look around. The house was tall, at least three floors, and old graphite that decorated the faint yellow walls slightly brought down your motivation to continue - but you had come this far, you couldn't go back now.

Daniel came to an abrupt stop and put his finger on his lips, signalizing for you to be as stealth as possible. He nodded towards the green doors on top of a small staircase and walked down a narrowed path, which you thought it led to some sort of basement. The high heels boots were heavy on the creaky wood as you stepped up the stairs but before your hands reached the door knob, the boy immediately came back with a goofy "quiet" run and stopped you.

"Wait, wait, wait," He said, eyes bewildered and cautious. "The basement door is locked, however there are cigarettes on the ground, and they sure as hell look fresh."

The door had cracks in the windows and a large broken hole in one of them, they was a crack of an opening but you looked back at Daniel - as much as you want to enter the house through one of the front doors, you knew it would make too much noise.

"So are we backing out?" You asked, already making your way to the back of the house, the garden/playground, or what was left of it anyway. Daniel rolled his eyes in slight annoyance and shock that you even asked that. "Of course not." He replied.

The last resort was a window, which unlike the others, was not blocked by concrete. It was taller and even though you were good at climbing and parkour, there was no way your jeans (which you believed were not so tight when you bought them) would let you even make an attempt to climb through the window. Luckily, and weirdly enough, Daniel went to grab a white chair that you'd see at any other cheap coffee shop and placed it in front of the window.

"One of the legs is broken." You pointed out blankly. Daniel shrugged.

"We've went through before with it and it's safe, if you're careful enough." Huh, that made sense. Daniel had a fair knowledge of the grounds even though he was not from the area, so you guessed he had already adventured his way into the house with your other classmates. You would've scolded them for being careless if you weren't doing the exact same thing.

You trusted Daniel with your backpack before climbing up the chair and then the window, which was easier than you thought and a sense of nostalgia ran through your mind - oh, the adventures you had when you were a kid. You took your phone out, not wanting to forget this moment, and hit recording. The room you both were in was small, full of graphite just like the outside walls - drawings, phrases, names, declarations of love, all that stuff. Your friend took notice of your excitement, "Careful, we have to move slow and whisper. We don't know if someone else is here with us."

A sense of dread washed through you once you both stepped in to the corridor and you took a look around. Down the hallway were two other rooms and a large room in the end, but everything was darker, and Daniel advised you to stick to his path - you never know what lays in the shadows. To the lighter areas were the toilets and bathrooms, along with another lit room and a large living room (or so you guessed) that had the green doors as an entrance, then, another corridor, but this one had a staircase that led both up and down.

"Let's head back," Daniel whispered while you were distracted looking around. The floors were creaky and some corners were burned down, but everything in the house gave it such an...ethereal feeling to it. He noticed your longing gaze to the staircase. "We can't. If someone is here, it would be easier for them to corner us in."

You nodded in silent, way too excited to say anything that might ruin the experience. You followed closely behind Daniel, careful not to step into any creaky or weak wood. You both were analysing the drawings left behind in the hallway from which you came in when suddenly he shushed you and looked upstairs.

"What is it?" You whispered, looking up, but you heard or saw nothing. Daniel, on the other hand, looked slightly alerted.

"Footsteps. Above." You both waited in silence for a few seconds, and you turned your camera back to the board. It read three names; Lucille, Hannah and Marcus. It reminded you of one of the legends Daniel told you about this mysterious house; that before the fire began in the basement, three children went missing to never be found again, not even their burned bodies. They just disappeared out of thin air. Suddenly, chills ran up your spine and you took a deep breath - you felt watched and intrusive thoughts crept into your mind. You clunched closer to Daniel.

"We should go." He stated, feeling the same as you, you thought. But something was pulling you down the hallway, insisting on you to explore the rest and not leave so soon. "(Y/N)?"

You didn't turn the flashlight on, since Daniel had warned you it would alert others of your position, but from your brief investigation and thankfully your eyes were well adapted to the dark, the room to the right had nothing - but then, your stomach twisted in a way that only an animal caught in a trap would feel, once you saw the sleeping mattress and grocery bag in the room to the right. As silent as you could, you used your best knowledge of sign language to warn Daniel (who also understood some of it) of what was inside. He immediately (and almost) ran to the "exit window" carelessly, but stopped when he heard your gasp.

Daniel turned around just in time to grab your arm and try to push you behind him, but you swapped positions and placed yourself between your friend and...the masked man sitting in an old couch, in the darkest room that laid in the end of the creepy corridor. It seemed like a nightmare, or an hallucination, but Daniel was seeing the same thing as you were - how long you both stood there, glaring at him, was impossible to determine - but once Daniel's phone began loudly ringing, the man sprinted in your direction and you shouted, pushing Daniel ahead of you so he could leave first. The man, despite not being the tallest was strong and had you in his hold for a few moments before you slapped his mask and scratched him as bad as you could before jumping over the window - ignoring the loud sound of something tearing up - and running to the street as fast as you could. Daniel claimed he heard a string of coughs and between his desperate whines he mentioned that he left something behind, but you didn't care as long as both him and you were safe.

It wasn't until you got home and decided to take a long deserved shower, hiding the "we were chased by a maniac" part of the story from your mother, that you noticed the end part of the cloth you use for your veil was thorned - and damn, it was your favourite veil!

1:00 am

You grumble as your phone vibrates and look up from your pillow - the following news almost take out all the sleepiness in you.

#creepypasta fandom where I go again #masky x y/n #masky x reader #masky marble hornets #marble hornets #slenderverse #proxies x reader #idk what to tag this tbh

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jennifersminds · 3 years ago

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Elijah gets off the phone with Stefan in American Gothic and Elena calls them both idiots, and Elijah just stands there smiling. This is the same man who forced the Salvatores to apologize to him and who stabbed Damon in the throat for being disrespectful to him, but Elena calling him an idiot is a cause for happiness. We stan an Original who is an utter lovestruck fool for a girl who is absolutely oblivious to this fact. Bless these disasters. Elena is over here insulting Elijah, telling him he’s stupid and a fool for trusting Katherine, and Elijah is just happy she’s there with him.

hi anon just so you know this is the best thing I have ever read tysm

I think the thing that originally pushed me over from being slightly interested in elejah to fully simping for them was the undeniable way Elijah treats Elena like... significantly differently than anyone else. Especially on tvd.

I could talk forever about American Gothic but the specific thing about this moment is the way we get to see that Elijah is performing with his threats.

"I will descend upon Elena." Babe are you sure?

Like the framing of the scene, the way they don't reveal Elena until he's hung up and then we see her just, standing there. Calm, unharmed. Completely chill and at ease. And yes a fair bit of that is her lack of humanity but the way the episode and Elijah play out proves she is never in any real danger, from him at least (see the cut to him depressingly crouched over her body for god knows how long "Well I care.".

And then... the bullying. Just outright bullying from Elena and the man is tranquil. Scratch that- amused.

As sad as it is that this is the last official Elejah scene it really was a wonderful last hurrah for Daniel and Nina as those characters together. You can tell they're both having fun with the scene and the banter, specifically the

"I remember reading that in a letter once."

"Well the writer sounds positively gifted- intense eye contact- I'm sure he meant what he wrote."

like those five seconds have me in an endless chokehold I truly will never be free.

#american gothic supremacy #asks <3 #anon #the vampire diaries #elejah #tvd #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #elena x elijah

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ricochetoconnell · 3 years ago

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For the canon+muse POV game, Rick looking after Evie at Hamunaptra, post-Medjai attack/Ardeth Bey's warning.

Leave this place or die.

The warning echoed ominously in Rick's mind as he plucked the fuse from the dynamite fizzing in his hand and watched the dark-robed figures dissolve into the night. As if Hamunaptra hadn't been full of enough bad omens to start with. At least Rick knew how to deal with human attackers on horse-back; It was whatever else was under these sands that made him so uneasy.

He turned to survey the damage -- to count how many more lives this damned place had claimed -- and his heart thudded to a painful stop in his chest.

"Evelyn!" Her name was past his lips before he realized, panic constricting his throat as he saw her small frame splayed in the sand. No, no, no. I told her to wait there, dammit.

He was already stumbling to her side when her foot twitched and she began to move, and his knees nearly went weak with relief that she was alive.

“Hey,” he said lowly when he saw wide, green eyes starring up at him. He snatched the gun from her hands and discarded it before reaching down to gently haul her upwards, inspecting her for any signs of injury. “Are you alright?”

She felt so delicate under his large, battle-roughened palms, and he cursed himself for having left her side. He was supposed to be protecting her, and he was beginning to suspect -- had suspected since she’d waltzed into Cairo prison like she owned the place, really -- that Evelyn Carnahan wasn’t the type to stay put when someone told her to.

She looked a little dazed, but otherwise unharmed, and her jaw was set in a resolute line as she answered him. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure?" He asked, to calm the dread that had settled into his gut at the sight of her laying there. He clasped her chin gently and tilted her head, still searching for any sign that she had been hurt. His gaze was met with nothing but unmarred skin, so soft he couldn't keep his fingers from exploring -- tracing the line of her jaw, grazing her cheek, fluttering against the elegant length of her neck.

“Thank you," she said, and it was her eyes that finally settled him. As soft and delicate as she might feel under his hands, those eyes were as sharp and determined as ever, dancing bright in the firelight.

For a moment he was lost in those liquid depths and the warmth he found there, in the fact that she didn’t pull away from, in the way her body leaned into his -- the way she fit against him.

And then Daniels’ voice was breaking the spell, sounding triumphant despite the losses they had just suffered. "See, that proves it! Old Seti's fortune's gotta be under this sand."

"For them to protect it like this, you just know there's treasure down there,” Henderson chimed in, but Rick was already shaking his head.

"No, these men are a desert people. They value water, not gold." Rick had spent enough time in the desert to know where priorities usually lay. He didn’t know who this mysterious group was -- he was fairly sure they weren’t Bedouin or Tuareg -- but nothing about them, three years ago or now, made him think they were interested in treasure.

But then, it was hard to think about anything with Evelyn's fingers tracing lines against his chest, warm even though the material of his shirt.

Her touch was so distracting Rick didn't even notice Burns come up beside him until the man was speaking, sounding noticably more shaken than his more gold-minded brethren. "Ya know, maybe just at night we could combine forces, hm?"

It wasn't the worst idea Rick had heard, especially since their group was considerably smaller. He had just turned his head to agree when he felt Evelyn pulling away. He let her go--despite the urge to pull her closer, to keep her there and safe with him--and turned to see her rushing towards Jonathan as he stumbled out from behind a collapsed column, pistol in one hand and Glenlivet in the other.

As he watched her corrall her already half-drunk brother back to their camp, her voice equal parts relieved and scolding, Rick made a decision; If Evelyn Carnahan wasn't the type to stay put, he was just going to have to stay by her side.

#sorry for the wait #as always #writing around scenes is surprisingly difficult!#but I do love this scene so much #fanfic #the mummy #rick o'connell #evelyn carnahan #rick/evy

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writeforfandoms · 3 years ago

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I feel like I'm on thin ice with the poking and the jiggling already, but I thought to try my luck! From the kissy prompts, the one with crying? The reason for the tears can be literally anything but maybe not actually sad, if that's okay?😂 Aaand you know I love your jack, but literally anyone you feel would be up for crying works for me. If you want to try more marcus pike, that could work too? Love you!

Okay this got a little bit angsty. A little bit. Not too bad though. But there are definitely tears!

This is set in the Perhaps Love 'verse at some unspecified point. Established relationship.

Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x f!reader

Word count: 600 ish

Warnings: May make your heart hurt. May also cause yearning. Nothing else.

You knew Jack was coming home today, but not when exactly. He’d been gone on an unexpected mission for a few days, and you were anxious to have him home again. Not least because apparently there had been a threat against you. (Not that you’d noticed - life had been normal for you.) The door opened and practically before you could react Jack swept you up in his arms, holding you tight.

"Are you okay?" He asked, near frantic, though he refused to let go of you long enough to actually look for himself. One big hand swept up your back to cup the back of your head, holding you gently.

"I'm okay," you assured him, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Hey. It's okay. I'm okay. Nothing happened to me, I'm fine."

Jack ducked his head down to kiss you, messy and desperate and passionate. You rubbed one hand across his shoulders, back and forth, silently reminding him that you were home, safe and unharmed. Everything was okay. Or would be okay.

It wasn't until you felt wetness on your cheeks that you pulled back. As you watched, a couple more tears escaped from Jack's eyes, and your heart broke, just a little.

"C'mere," you murmured, guiding his head down against your shoulder, holding him tight. "I'm okay, sweetheart."

The first sob shuddered through both of you, and you clung to him tighter. Your heart hurt for him, but you knew he needed to get this out. So you didn't try to hush him. You didn't tell him to calm down. You just held him and hummed soothingly, rocking the two of you slowly in place.

Slowly, he calmed until he was breathing more or less evenly, warm puffs of air against your neck and shoulder. You let him straighten up, reaching past him to grab the box of tissues.

“Better?” you asked gently.

Jack didn’t answer, just herded you (and the tissue box) over to the couch. He grabbed your waist, turning the two of you so he sat first and you landed in his lap with a little ‘oof’.

“Jack?” You twisted to look at him, and Jack shook his head, wrapping both arms around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“Just let me hold you for a bit, darlin’,” he murmured, voice still rough.

You melted, just a little, and relaxed back against him. “Of course,” you murmured. He leaned back into the couch, pulling you with him, so the two of you were slouched comfortably. His fingers snuck under the hem of your shirt to splay against your skin. You thought about scolding him… for about a second. And then dismissed it. He probably craved the skin contact right then.

Besides, it was another good way for him to remind himself that you were fine, and not hurt, and still alive.

“Feeling better?” you checked in after about five minutes of quiet cuddling. His fingers were drawing little designs on the skin of your stomach. Fortunately you weren’t ticklish.

“Better,” he admitted. He sounded calmer, voice a little more even.

“Good.” You turned your head to look at him. He looked better, although his eyes were still red. “What can I do to help?”

“Just this,” he mumbled, leaning his head down onto your shoulder. “Just… stay.”

“Always,” you promised, reaching one hand back to card your fingers through his hair. “As long as you need, love.”

His sigh was warm against the back of your shoulder, but you felt him relax further behind you. You smiled to yourself, gently scratching your nails through his hair. He’d be alright. You’d make sure of it.

Taglist: @fandom-blackhole @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @thirddeadlysin @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @pedro4ever @janebby @anditsmywholeheart @evyiione @ohheyitsokay @amneris21 @recklessworry @the-feckless-wonder @kotemorons @myguiltypleasures21 @javierpinme @grogusmum @eri16 @idreamofboobear @pintsizemama @pedrostories @anaaaispunk @agent-jack-d @quica-quica-quica @pedrocentric @mylovelycomandante @kirsteng42 @horton-hears-a-honk @dindjxrinslover @alexxavicry @soltassbruxa @elegantduckturtle

#perhaps love #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you

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choosekindly · 3 years ago

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Physical Therapy, cont’d

Daniel created a slight vacuum with his mouth so that, when his lips slid off Clark’s toe, a rather loud *pop* echoed in their bedroom. Clark’s eye snapped fully open. His eyebrow quirked. Daniel froze. And then his shoulders relaxed with gratitude at the sound of Clark’s deep laugh.

“There you are,” Daniel lowed.

“Here I am.”

At that invitation, Daniel snaked his hand up his husband’s pajama cuff and traced long lines with his fingernails on the unharmed interior skin of Clark’s calf. Longer lines up and down, until he reached the soft flesh inside his knee. Any higher, his hand would hit scars, Clark’s most painful burns, where skin grafts had been necessary and full function would likely never return.

Daniel gave a small pinch and delighted to see the corner of Clark’s unchanged eye crinkle. He had always been floored by his partner's ability to smile so broadly without moving his mouth. He removed his hand and forearm from the other man’s pajamas while tracing small, feather-light circles with his thumb on his exterior ankle bone. Daniel was hyper aware of how painful the burns still were, but he was deliberate in his worship of all of Clark.

Returning the full weight of his leg to the bed, Daniel moved to straddle Clark’s left leg, untouched by fire. One knee between his legs, the other only half on the small strip of mattress between Clark and the edge of the bed, Clark looped his long fingers behind that perilously positioned knee, fiddling with fabric, caressing the muscles beneath, and, with light pressure, stabilizing the smaller man. His heart fell into his stomach at the return of the months-missing sensation of being a physical help to his partner.

Daniel began at the tails of Clark’s pajama top, unbuttoning slowly. Clark’s tented pajama bottoms were a clear message, yet Daniel still asked, "yes?” searching his husband’s eyes for clarity.

“Yes, please.”

Daniel dove. Flipping the loose edges of fabric, he kissed any inch of skin he could reach. Smooth and familiar received hungry, tooth filled, ravenous attention. Newly scarred flesh was caressed by hot breath - the slightest brushes of lips and tongue. Daniel was careful to explore Clark’s abdomen in full. While Clark had always teased Daniel for closing his eyes for any affection like every kiss was his first, today their eyes were locked together so Daniel could adjust his ministrations at any sign of discomfort.

Satisfied that he had fully reacquainted himself with his husband’s body, at least ribs to waistband, Daniel began to nip at that waistband. His hand explored Clark’s desire through the loose fabric.

Daniel came up for air, truly lightheaded. “Yes?”

“Yes, please.”

Placing one foot on the floor, Daniel scooped Clark’s hips with his forearm and deftly pulled his pants down to his knees, where the elastic would not trouble any sensitivities.

“Darling!” Clark yelped.

“Yes?” Daniel delicately returned the man to the mattress.

“Damn, yes.” His eyes tearing, Clark patted Daniel’s side until he found his husband’s hand, interlaced their fingers, and pulled the newly created join of their bodies in to kiss the back of Daniel’s hand.

Daniel’s other hand found its way lower, his thumb tracing the seam of Clark’s manhood. A soft smile, and Daniel dove again, taking just the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue. He sucked softly. Clark moaned. And *pop.*

Without waiting for a reaction, Daniel pulled in Clark ravenously, nearly choking on the length that reached his throat. But neither man could deny their laughter. Nor could Clark deny himself the bliss that laughter brought, contracting the muscles of Daniel’s throat with delicious rapidity. The humming vibrations reverberated through his pelvis, and after months without non-clinical touch, Clark squeezed his husband’s hand tightly and released his pleasure as they both lost their breath to giddy joy and physical rapture.

---

moodboard clipped from @danieldebussy

#clark debussy #hamish linklater #legionfx #is this how you do the thing?#daniel bohr-debussy

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echo-hiraeth · 4 years ago

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31 + 34 with javi pls <3

Perfect - Javier Peña x F!Reader

You have no idea how much I like actually love requests though!! Sorry it took me so long <3

Prompts:

31: “You’re not going out dressed like that”

34: “You’re so perfect it hurts”

Masterlist

Your clammy hands were shaking as you checked yourself in the mirror yet again. You looked amazing, the short dress with cut-outs leaving little to the imagination. Today would be your first time on the frontline. The Rodriguez brothers were having themselves a little get together, the perfect way for you to infiltrate and get some intel. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you knew for a fact that the only women there were either the ones they scattered from brothels or the rich girlfriends and wives of other sicarios. And since you had no husband for the night, you had to opt for the classic prostitute, much to your own dismay. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used for your assets, the delicate touch and approach of a woman having been proved successful more than once. But to your personal relief, Chris and Daniel, two fellow agents working under Peña, would be right there alongside you.

The tacky red lipstick sat on the counter, practically laughing at you. You quickly put it on, sighing as you reached for the cheap perfume to go along with it. Your fellow agents had provided you with the little outfit, the platformed heels a practical joke more than anything. You’d get them back for this, sooner or later. Three honks outside your building let you know they were here. You scurried for your purse, making your way outside on the torturous shoes. Peña lifted his hand on the steering wheel, greeting you. You got in next to him, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Feistl and Ness not coming anymore?”, you asked, gesturing towards the empty backseat.

He turned his head towards you, sighing deeply. “Get back inside.”

“Mission’s off?”, you frowned, sounding more confused than ever.

He raked his eyes over your body, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’re not going out dressed like that.”

You scoffed at him, turning your body in his direction. “Excuse me? Your men picked this out for me. This is the dress code.”

“Right, you’re just asking for it dressed like that”, he groaned, averting his eyes.

“I’m just gonna pretend like you didn’t just say that”, you laughed, leaning your elbow against the window, “Just drive, yeah? I want to get this over with just as much as you do.”

He started the engine, giving you a quick glare. “Fine. But I’m sticking around. I’ll park a street or two away and need you back in an hour, if not I’ll come looking for you myself.”

“Whatever, just let me do my job. We could use some new leads, can’t let them get away much longer”, you reasoned.

“Leads mean nothing if you’re dead”, he replied coldly. “I-I just want- need you to be safe.”

You smiled a little to yourself, giving him a nod. “I try my best, boss.”

“Javi, call me Javi. We’re not at the office”, he insisted, tilting his head at you.

“Well Javi, looks like this is my stop”, you smiled, reaching for the door handle.

He grabbed a hold of you other wrist, making you whip your head around. “Please – whatever happens, don’t leave the party, don’t even leave the dancefloor. If at any point you feel unsafe or uneasy, come back, no one will hold it against you.”

“I promise you.. I’m okay. I’ve done it before, chat some, dance some, flirt a little bit, get them drunk enough… I’ll be fine.”

He was reluctant to let go of you, resisting the urge to just drive off with you. It was your job, you were trained to deal with these kinds of people. He was probably just overreacting, being overly protective over one of his agents. Except that he never felt this way with the guys. Surely he was seeing things, surely there wasn’t any depth to your kind words and special attentions. Surely you wouldn’t even consider him for a fuck, with the obvious age-gap and all. Not only that, he was well-aware of the way he was so out of shape, the start of a beer gut becoming more and more obvious. He wasn’t the womanizer he once was, but there was just something about you, some magical, gravitational pull that had him breathing heavy when you were close.

“Javi.. I need you to let go”, you repeated for the third time, finally pulling him from his thoughts.

Shit – that was embarrassing. He quickly pulled away, nodding at you. “Good luck.”

You left with another smile, waving to him as you rounded the corner. He let out a breath, softly banging his head against the car-seat headrest. His fingers strained against the cool leather of the steering wheel, teeth gnashing as he tried to keep himself from running after you. You were a big girl, he told himself over and over, you could handle yourself.

The partly was bustling with people, drinks and cocaine flowing freely. You headed for the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila as you scanned the dancefloor for any possible leads. Along the way you’d spotted Daniel, grinding with some girl. At least he was enjoying himself. Chris was off to the side, talking and laughing with some unfamiliar men. It was then you spotted one Gilberto’s wives. An unexpected turn of events to say the least. She caught your eye just as you were looking at her, and gave a saccharine smile, moving to walk over to you.

“Entonces, viniste solo, o..”, she asked, purring into your ear. (So did you come alone, or..)

“Sí, ¿estoy haciendo algo mal?”, you questioned, purposely raising the pitch in your voice to feign innocence. (Yes, did I do something wrong?)

She let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder as she leaned in closer. “Me gustaría que conocieras a alguien.” (I’d like for you to meet someone.)

It’s not like you had much of a choice anyway, her tone and grip on your wrist saying as much. You smiled back at her, nodding your head. She lead you into the bar, taking you into one of the backrooms. In passing you’d spotted the Rodriguez brothers in a small room, talking about something you couldn’t quite understand. She gestured for you to stay there, in the middle of the hallway as she disappeared into the nearest room. The stench of sweat and sex hit you hard, making you shiver against the wall. A young girl stumbled out of the room, face stained with black streaks and the straps on her dress torn apart. You gulped a bit, this being much more intense than what you were used to. It was then the wife remerged, leading you into the room. You had to keep your mouth from falling open, David Rodriguez, the big boss’ son sitting there, half-naked, smirking up at you.

“Gracias mamá”, he cooed, pointing the other woman to the door.

He stood up, buckling his belt and zipping his slacks up before stalking over to you. He hummed lowly as his hand traced the cut-outs in your dress, leaning in to press his lips against your shoulder.

“Muy hermosa.. Dime dulzura, ¿te gusta bailar?”, he inquired, raking his fingers through your hair. (Very pretty.. Tell me sweetheart, do you like dancing?)

“En ocasiones”, you muttered, scanning the room for possible escape routes. (Sometimes.)

He stroked a thumb over your lips, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Vamos a bailar, entonces.” (Let’s go dancing then.)

Apparently both your partners had taken note of your absence, shooting you worried looks and glances as you returned to the actual party. You gave them both a subtle nod, assuring them you were okay and unharmed.

Back in the car Javier was a mess, having received a phone call from Chris, informing him you were taking into the building. He was about to go in himself when Chris called back, letting him know you’d come back, seemingly unscathed. It was what he said next that set Javier’s rage aflame, Rodriguez’ son was all over you. Feistl spared him no detail, describing how he had his hands all over you, mouth pressed to your neck occasionally.

“If anything so much as goes remotely wrong, if she looks scared, uncomfortable, whatever, you call me”, he growled into the phone. “And do not let her go into that building again.”

You felt disgusting, feeling the way his hands roamed over your body, squeezing at your breasts and bottom, not shy whatsoever. It was hard not to shove him off of you and beat his ass right then and there. You had to remind yourself it was for the greater good, trying to picture it was someone – anyone – else, to no avail. He swiftly spun you around, having you face him and he leaned in to press his wet mouth against yours. That was a bridge too far, even for you, and in a moment of pure disgust you shoved him off of you, slapping him right across the face. As soon as it happened you regretted it, clasping a hand over your own mouth, lifting it to mutter out a string of apologies.

“Puta”, he snarled, making all the heads around you turn in your direction.

You looked around you, trying to find someone, something to help you. He roughly tugged on the fabric of your dress, resulting in some of the cut-outs ripping even further. Luckily for you, you were in the middle of the crowd, meaning you wouldn’t get your brains blown out right then and there and as soon as David lifted his gaze to see all the partygoers stare at him, he let go of you. You seized the opportunity to disappear into the crowd, sprinting for the exit, with a heart thumping in your throat. Soon you heard the heavy thuds of someone else’s footsteps behind you, making you run even faster. Except that in these fucking heels, it was nearly impossible to make any decent distance whatsoever. One of them broke, sending you gliding over the asphalt, skin painfully dragging over the course ground. It was then you looked over your shoulder, expecting to get shot, only to be met with Javier’s brown eyes.

“Don’t say anything, just walk with me”, he instructed, helping you off the floor and wrapping an arm around you.

The adrenaline kept you on your feet, the pain not yet settled in. There was some blood running down your bare legs and forearms, a scared look etched on your face. He helped you into the car, taking off his jacket before putting it over your torso. When he was a good amount of blocks away he turned to look at you.

“I’m driving back to my place, can’t let them know where you live. We’ll take care of you there.”

He kept his eyes on the road, for fear that he might never look away again if he even so much glanced in your direction. He noticed your discomfort, the jackets strategically covering the new rips and tears in your skin tight dress. The urge to just pull over and hold you, comfort you, tell you – assure you that you’d be okay grew bigger by the second. And by the time he was parking the car, his hands were shaking, shaking with anxiety. You both hadn’t said a word and silences were uncharacteristic for you, hence the worry – or well, increase thereof.

The walk up to his apartment was painful, the adrenaline wearing off and the agony setting in. He noticed the way you pursed your lips with every step, carefully offering you his arm. You thanked him, holding onto his tan forearm. He managed a small smile, heartbeat skyrocketing as he noticed how gentle and warm your grip was.

As soon as you two were safely in the apartment with the door triple locked, he sat you down on the couch, disappearing into the bathroom to gather anything useful he could find. The bleeding had stopped by now, but it was a sight to behold. Your arms and legs were stained with blood and dirt, the cuts on your kneecaps stinging with the slightest movement.

He was tender and cautious, checking in if you so much as winced. The disinfectant stung like hell and had you biting the inside of your own cheek. You cursed the tears as they pricked in your eyes. You closed your eyes, flinching slightly when you felt a hand cupping your face.

“I’ll get you something to eat, to settle your stomach”, Javier whispered, slowly getting up.

You quickly grabbed a hold of the hand on your face, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “ P-please don’t leave.”

He felt his knees buckle the tiniest bit at that. You sounded so small, scared, insecure – so unlike yourself.

“I’m right here, you’re safe with me”, he ushered, taking both your hands in his as he knelt down once again. “Tell me what you need..”

“I-I want to get out of this dress, please”, you begged, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes.

He gave half a smile, softly pressing his lips to your knuckles. “We can manage that, I can draw you a bath as well if you want.. I mean I assume you’d prefer to stay here tonight?”

You nodded slowly, sniffling a little as you went to stand. “Thank you Javi.”

After finally having convinced you that you could safely take a bath on your own and that he’d be waiting just outside in the kitchen you finally got undressed. You felt gross, borderline disgusting and wanted nothing more than to scrub the feelings of those hands off of your body. But no matter how many times you dragged the washcloth over your skin, the feeling seemed to linger and you felt the bile rising in your throat again. It had been too close of a call, you were lucky to even be alive tonight, sicarios usually not afraid to cause a scene.

Outside the door Javier was pacing, some frozen lasagne thrown in the oven. How could those two morons let you slip out of sight? Hadn’t he been clear in his instructions? Hadn’t he stressed how important it was for you to stay out in public? He’d have a go at them later, for now he just wanted to make sure you were okay. The muted sobs spilling from the bathroom didn’t help him either, wanting nothing more than to barge in to check up on you, but he was too afraid to overstep.

You eventually managed to muster up the courage, getting dressed in one of your boss’ shirts and a pair of his boxers, since they were the only thing he had that wouldn’t cover your knees, allowing the scrapes and cuts to air out. You’d have to see a doctor more than likely, the pain in your joints more present now that the initial shock was somewhat settled down. With gnashing teeth you walked out into the living room, Javier’s head immediately whipping around.

“I’ve got some food in the oven for later..”, he mumbled, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I made the bed as well, so you can just crash whenever you’d like.”

“Javi – thank you so much, I-I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there”, you managed to get out before your legs started shaking.

He immediately rushed over, scooping you up in his arms. “Let’s get you a seat, yeah?”

He softly sat you down on the couch, hissing as he accidentally grazed the angry red skin on your legs. “It’s okay – you didn’t hurt me”, you reassured him.

“I should’ve never let you go in there, it was a stupid fucking idea”, he chastised himself, rubbing the skin between his brows.

You sat up straight, putting a hesitant hand on his cheek. “Javier, you did what you thought was right. Everyone made it out and everyone’s safe, you called the right shots out there tonight.”

He looked into your eyes, sighing deeply, softly shaking his head. “Stop this.”

You gave a confused look, readjusting yourself, coming a bit closer in the process. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. That’s just fucking it – you’re so perfect it hurts”, he murmured, briefly glancing down at your bottom lip.

That took you by surprise, making you chuckle a little. “What?”

“I don’t ever want to see you hurt like this again. I-I was so worried about you and fucking angry that I let you go in there all by yourself. It should’ve been me in there, or at least me by your side. I mean fuck – when I saw you stumbling out of there cariño – my heart nearly stopped”, he rambled once again taking a hold of your hands.

You were baffled at his words, confused at the sudden outing of care and worry. “Javi, I’m a DEA agent, this is what we’re here for.”

“Not to me”, he sighed, averting his eyes from your own. “You’re so special. So humble and kind- smart not to mention and… and so fucking gorgeous.”

It was practically impossible for your eyes to open even wider, the shock on your face more than obvious. “Javier, I-I don’t know what to say”, you admitted quietly.

He only now realised the impact of he what he’d been saying. Surely your boss coming onto you was the last thing you’d wanted, considering what you went through earlier on. “Fuck, shit – I didn’t mean to dump that on you, especially not like this I-“

“It’s okay”, you reassured him. “That lasagne should be done by now right?”

You knew fully well that the damn food was the last thing on your mind but you couldn’t help but overthink the entire situation. Surely your boss, one of the hottest men at the office, wouldn’t feel that way about you? Exactly, it had to have been the adrenaline of it all – or that bloody fucking dress. Whatever it was, you decided to repress that fluttery feeling in your gut and tried to remember what you were truly dealing with here: a boss looking out for his agents.

The rest of the night was spent in a comfortable silence. You decided to just go to bed already, your head spinning. What he’d told you wasn’t lost on you, in fact, it kept you up. You were laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling as you bit your lip. The range of emotions you were experiencing was overwhelming at it was hard to keep the waterworks contained at times.

Eventually, somewhere in the AM’s you managed to fall asleep. But even then you were plagued by your own mind. You felt those hands all over your body again and that slick, slobbery tongue on your neck. You punched him again, as you did before, but only now he pulled out a gun and shot you square in the chest. Clutching at that gushing wound, you sank to your knees, locking eyes with Javier. He rushed over holding you in his arms, shaking your lifeless form as your body went limp.

You sat upright immediately, arms flailing around you, knocking over the glass and clock that stood on the bedside table. The sounds of the shattering rung in your ears, pulling you back from your own head, making you aware of your surroundings. You were alive and more importantly you were safe. As the door swung open you let out a yelp, covering your face with your arms, still panting from your nightmare.

“Shit – are you okay?”, Javier asked, taking note of the broken glass next to the bed.

The familiar sound of his voice sent you over the edge and the tears that you’d been struggling to hold back all night finally got the upper hand over you. As you gasped for hair he quickly threw the nearest blanket atop the shards, deciding he’d deal with it later. He crawled into the bed and you practically threw yourself into his arms. He cradled you against his chest, closing his eyes as he felt you tremble all over.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here”, he soothed you, intertwining the fingers on his free hand with your hair, slowly but surely grounding you.

There was something about the way his arms wrapped around you that made you feel safe. Something about the way your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck that made you feel like you were destined to end up here, in his bed, pressed up against him.

With tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes you looked up at him, hands fisted in his threadbare t-shirt. “Did you mean it? What you said?”, you croaked out, voice pitchy with emotion.

“Every word”, he confirmed, softly swiping the tears away with his thumb.

You sat upright a bit more, leaning into him as did he until finally your lips bumped into one another’s. The both of you sighed, pulling away after only a few seconds, not looking for anything more in that moment.

“Please just hold me for tonight”, you whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He gently laid down, taking you with him. “I don’t think I’ll ever let go again.”

#javier peña #Javier Pena #narcos #javier peña x reader #request #prompts #Pedro Pascal

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elffees · 3 years ago

Text

okay so i was queueing this post and was losing my mind in the tags struggling with the constant warning of hitting the word limit bc i had so much to say, until my brain was finally like “dude just make your own damn post” so here i am!

basically my thoughts were about Sean and his experience in episode 4. episode 4 was nuts. the shit Sean endures, regardless of your choices, is horrible. and i just wanted to connect why all the BS Sean experiences makes the choice of shooting or sparing Lisbeth so much more weighty.

(sidenote: i’m not going to be referring to if Sean asks/lets Daniel kill her and will mainly just be focusing on if Sean does it himself or lets Lisbeth leave the church unharmed.)

to start off, i don’t think it’s a reach to say that by the end of the episode Sean has to be fucking exhausted. it’s undoubtedly one of the lowest points of their journey. like from beginning to end: Sean was just held hostage by the feds! he very recently lost an eye and is still struggling to adjust to his now dramatically reduced vision! and still during this recovery phase he crosses hundreds of miles in the desert to find Daniel while trying to avoid discovery. then very quickly he runs into verbally and physically abusive racists who mock his cultural upbringing, raid through his belongings, and then beat the shit out of him, possibly breaking his fucking ribs, while laughing in his bloodied and bruised face. but at least he still has a car oh wait NOT ANYMORE bc he has to abandon it soon after the harassment/assault and is forced to walk several miles in the desert on foot with little food, little water, and little shade.

and then after that absolutely tiring, painful, and no doubt life threatening trek, he finally finds Daniel. finally he gets his brother back but OH WAIT the minute Sean gets there Daniel rejects him, even going so far as to use his power to push him away, bc of the awful brain washing and mental abuse Lisbeth has subjected him to. but ohohoho the horror still isn’t over yet bc in the same exact day literally a millisecond after being kicked out, guess what fucking ghost pops back up in Sean’s life seemingly just to be the sweet cherry on top of these Fuck Sean set of events?? MOTHERFUCKING KAREN REYNOLDS!!! the person that was the very first to fuel his horrific snowball of trauma! that left when he needed and wanted her most and now that shes literally the farthest thing from his mind, ironically spits back in his face that “of course she’s there now, they need her”.

after all this you just know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sean has to be tired. he has to be fed up with just about everything after being dealt the most atrocious cards ever seen and (intentionally or unintentionally) shat on again and again and again.

then, at the end when he finally convinces Daniel (if you succeed) and tries to leave, Lisbeth will stand in his way after just having her beloved henchmen beat the shit out of him. mind you, Sean still has broken ribs if you rebelled against the desert racists. Sean still can barely see shit. there is blood drenched down his face bc of how much Lisbeth’s goon tried to bash his skull in and Sean is so weak and wounded that, whether they’ve reconciled or not, he has to lean on Karen for support bc he is so fucked up he can barely stand on his own two feet. not even including the absolute mess of mental and physiological trauma the desert pursuit had to have taken on him in the first place.

and Lisbeth, this mass manipulator with absolutely no redeemable qualities, has the GALL to stand in his way afterwards???

the choice to shoot Lisbeth or spare is so so huge i cannot stress it enough, not just as a teaching moment for Daniel but also smthg monumental for Sean. bc what does he do? he just wants to leave, he just wants this part of their journey to be done with already, he just wants it to be over. and again mind you, Sean CANONLY picks up the gun. it is not a choice nor a determinant. Sean grabs it knowing he may need to use it. taking out Lisbeth or sparing her is the culmination of everything that’s happened to him this episode and begs you to wonder:

where is Sean’s head at? has he had enough? has he become so mauled and beat down by practically everything that he finally says “fuck you” and hits back, pulling the trigger? OR does Sean try to maintain the shred of innocence he may or may not have left? does he look at this personification of absolute shit that’s literally daring him to kill her and say “no”?

shooting or sparing Lisbeth at the end of episode 4 is basically asking: will Sean come out of all of that trauma and pain and hurt and fight to remain merciful? or will he mold into hardened steel?

#life is strange #lis: 2 #lis 2 #sean diaz #lexi plays lis2 #i love LIS2 so much and i love sean so much i’m going to cry #the choice to shoot or not shoot Lisbeth is so HUGE for both daniel and sean!!!#long text post //#i’d also like to clarify in case anyone misinterprets:#i’m not trying to take away from the horrible psychological abuse Lisbeth did to Daniel #i just wanted to make a post illustrating Sean’s personal experience too #lis2 meta #life is strange 2 #lis2

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actual-lea · 3 years ago

Photo

The plot! I found it! It’s here!

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

“Hey, Dan, listen up for a sec.”

He looks up from the newspaper in his hands, to see Frank leaning across the aisle to speak to him in a low voice.

“Once we get to Sydney, I'm gonna be getting on a different plane, and in case we don't see each other again, I just wanna make sure you and I are on the same page about everything that's happened.”

Daniel blinks; after Penny's boat had dropped them off in Perth, he'd expected that he and Frank would continue traveling together for a few more days, at least until they made it back to the States. “Which is...?”

Frank sighs, like that's the answer he expected, but not the one he wanted. “No matter what we were originally hired for, we know things, things that Charles Widmore does not want anyone to know.” He waits for a flight attendant to move past before leaning closer and continuing, “This is the kinda guy who faked a whole damn plane crash, and I think the fact that we know about it at all oughta be enough to keep us out of any trouble, long as nobody goes around spilling the beans. As long as their story holds up,” he nods to the article Dan's reading, its headline boldly claiming to tell The Amazing True Story of the Oceanic Six, “I don't think Jack and his group are in any danger. Anything happens to one of them, you can bet the whole world'll wanna know why. But nobodies like us?” He shakes his head. “It'd be a lot easier for someone like you or me to disappear under mysterious circumstances, if you catch my drift.”

He doesn't. “What...are you trying to tell me, exactly?”

Another sigh. “Look, Dan, just...” Frank puts a hand on his shoulder. “Keep your head down, for a while. Okay?”

------

Daniel spends most of the car ride struggling to sit up, shifting around in small movements and cursing under his breath every time he inevitably sinks back down to the smooth leather of the backseat.

By the time he's finally able to lift himself up on his elbows, just enough to see the road ahead, the surrounding buildings have all turned to industrial-looking monoliths, rectangular factories and warehouses all painted in various shades of the same dull gray.

The car slows to a stop in front of one of the warehouses, and Daniel's pulse skyrockets as Abaddon turns off the engine.

This is it. If he's going to have any chance at escape, it's now or never.

He manages to push himself up – slowly, his arms trembling with the effort – and slumps back in the seat, mostly upright, his head lolling against the headrest as he catches his breath. The door beside him opens, and Abaddon reaches in to pull him out.

“Don't, don't–” He shoves clumsily at the hands trying to grab him. To his surprise, Abaddon actually steps back, allowing him to place his feet on the pavement and grip the car door with both hands for support. “I can walk,” he insists, carefully standing up to prove his point.

He takes a tentative step forward as Abaddon watches with one eyebrow raised. “Do you know what 50,000 volts of electricity does to the human body?”

As if right on cue, Dan's leg buckles; the arm he throws out to catch himself immediately folds beneath his weight with an audible pop, and he bites back a curse as he crumples to the ground, clutching his elbow.

“You can't walk,” Abaddon states simply, and he easily hoists Dan onto his shoulders without another word.

“No–” Daniel struggles against his grasp, but only succeeds in exhausting himself, much too quickly. “Let me go,” he wheezes, driving a knee into his side. “You can't... you can't do this– Agh–” His windpipe crashes into Abaddon's shoulder as the latter roughly yanks Dan's arm forward to readjust his grip and, presumably, to shut him up.

“My employer wants you delivered unharmed, Mr. Faraday.” For the first time, there's a hint of agitation in his voice. “I can't have you breaking a bone or giving yourself a concussion because you're too stubborn to accept help.”

Daniel stills for a moment. Unharmed. It's better than the alternative; maybe he isn't being dragged to his death after all, then. He stares at the pavement of the parking lot below as it moves in a dizzying blur with each step. “This is your idea of help?” he says, hoarsely and with not nearly enough malice.

“Relax.” The pavement becomes floor, and the warehouse door swings shut behind them with a thud.

“What happened?” asks a new voice, echoing ominously in the open space, and Dan's stomach twists into a knot.

“He ran,” Abaddon replies, and then Daniel is dropped onto a folding metal chair; he fumbles ungracefully but catches himself and sits up, blinking warily at the finely-dressed man standing in front of him.

“Not quite the impression I wanted to make,” the man mutters, seemingly to himself, in an English accent. He looks old, probably at least sixty, if Dan had to guess, and oddly mundane; not exactly what he was expecting from a man who paid to have him abducted. “But, here we are, I suppose.” Something about him seems vaguely familiar as he offers a hand in greeting. “Hello, Daniel.”

He glances at it, but doesn't move.

With something like a laugh, the man drops the hand to his side. “Of course. I didn't expect you to remember me. My name is–”

“Charles Widmore,” Daniel finishes.

The man blinks. “You... You do remember?”

He shakes his head. “You're just the only person I can think of who might have any reason to kidnap me,” he says, rather proud of how nonchalant he's able to sound despite his pulse still racing frantically in his ears.

With a stiff smile, Widmore laces his hands together and looks down, as if deep in thought. “That's quite an assumption.”

Daniel looks around. The three of them are in a makeshift office space, sectioned off in one corner of the dimly lit warehouse by chainlink walls; there's a neat stack of papers sitting on one side of a large desk behind Widmore, and a few filing cabinets lining the wall behind that. The rest of the warehouse is conspicuously empty.

With a deep breath, he turns back to Widmore. “So, did you bring me here...to kill me?”

His head snaps up, and he looks surprised; offended, almost. “Why would I want to kill you?”

Daniel shrugs and rubs his sore elbow. “Because...I'm one of the only people still alive who knows the truth. About Oceanic 815. About the island.”

“I'm not going to kill you, Daniel.” Widmore laughs once. “I can promise you that. I only brought you here to talk.” He moves behind the desk and motions to Abaddon to leave.

Dan glances over his shoulder, then crosses his arms with a frustrated sigh. “You could have just asked me.”

“And would you have accepted my invitation, knowing who it came from?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “What do you want?”

“First, I want to apologize if your treatment today has been less than gracious. I fear I didn't make myself clear enough on the terms of your retrieval.”

Daniel isn't sure how to respond to that, so he doesn't; he watches Widmore retrieve a bottle of Scotch along with two glasses from behind the desk.

“As you can probably surmise, I am a busy man, so I'll get right to the point.” He opens the bottle and pours a centimeter of liquid into one of the glasses. “There is a certain...errand, that I need you to run for me.”

“Errand,” Dan repeats. “You mean, this isn't the warehouse where you build henchmen like him–” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder– “to do that kind of thing for you?”

“Daniel.” Widmore sets the bottle down, with just a bit of force, and circles around to the front of the desk. “I've done you the courtesy of bringing you here so we could sit, face-to-face, and have a conversation like gentlemen.” He leans forward to offer the drink to Daniel, and there's a dangerous edge to his voice when he continues, “But I'm warning you, do not test my patience.”

“Alright.” Daniel stares blankly at the glass.

Widmore sighs, and downs the drink himself. “Tell me, how well do you know them?”

Dan waits for context. “Them...?” he prompts after a few seconds.

“The Oceanic Six,” Widmore clarifies, the words dripping with disdain. “How much time did you spend with them?”

“I don't...” Daniel glances down, thinking. “A couple of weeks, maybe? I don't know.” He shakes his head. “Why are you asking me–”

“Their cover story,” Widmore interrupts. “The beach where they washed up – Sumba.” He sits down on the edge of the desk. “You and I both know how far that place is from the island. Or...” He stares at Daniel intensely. “From where the island was, at the time.”

He looks away, and doesn't respond.

“Now, I don't believe that they could have made it that far without some help, do you?”

“What...” He exhales softly and steels himself to lie. Deliberately, he lifts his head to meet Widmore's eyes. “What are you saying?”

“Have you met my daughter, Daniel?”

The directness of the question catches him off-guard; he hesitates for just a moment too long before putting on what he hopes is an adequately confused facial expression. “Your...daughter? Who's your–”

“Her name is Penelope.” Widmore taps his fingers on the empty glass. “But of course, you already knew that, didn't you?”

Daniel looks down at his hands. “Why would I know–”

“You've met her,” Widmore states with certainty. “When all of you left the island together. You, and the Six, and perhaps a few others. I don't know. I don't really care.” He sets down the glass. “I haven't spoken to my daughter in over four years, Daniel.”

“I'm...sorry to hear that,” Dan replies, not sorry at all.

“She wasted a substantial amount of time and money scouring the South Pacific, in search of the man she loved,” Widmore says with a scoff. “You've met this man as well.”

Daniel shifts his weight in the chair; the pins and needles are almost gone, now. “Even if I did, I don't see why it–”

“It matters because she found him, and in doing so, she found the rest of you.” Widmore crosses his arms. “And ever since then, I've had no information about Penny's whereabouts whatsoever.” He leans forward. “And that's where you come in.”

“So...” Dan taps a finger on his leg. “You want me to...” He shakes his head. “...what, exactly? Stalk your daughter for you?”

“No, Daniel. I need you to protect my daughter.”

His finger stills. “I, uh... I think you've got the wrong guy, Mr. Widmore.”

“No,” he says simply. “I've chosen you for a very specific reason, and that reason's name is Desmond Hume.”

Daniel takes a deep breath. “You know what...” Slowly, cautiously, he stands up, a little unsteady, but stable. “I think I'll pass, actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“The last time you offered me a job, a lot of people died,” he says, quickly, before he can lose his nerve. “This whole thing is... It's not something I want to get involved with again.”

Widmore stands suddenly, and Dan takes a small step back. “Like it or not, you're already involved in this, Daniel. Inextricably.”

“Alright, sure.” He shrugs. “But, so what? You already said that you– You're not interested in killing me, so I'll save us both some time and say no now.”

Widmore's eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?”

“Do you?” Something like a nervous laugh spills from Daniel's mouth. “Maybe you haven't done your research, Mr. Widmore, but I'm– I'm not really the kind of person that you want protecting anyone. And besides that...” He swallows, and forces himself to make eye contact, squaring his shoulders. “There's nothing you can do to me. I mean, you can have your guy shoot me with that– that taser thing again, you can... You can hurt me or threaten me all you want, but you don't have any actual leverage, because I don't have anything left for you to hold over my head that's gonna make me agree to work for someone like you.” He pauses to steady himself, but it's largely unnecessary; he's telling the truth, after all, and his voice doesn't waver. “And I think you know that, too, so what's the worst you can do if I just...walk out that door?”

Widmore does nothing but stare at him for a moment. “Would you really like to know?”

Dan shakes his head. “Thank you very much for the opportunity, Mr. Widmore, but I'm not gonna be a part of this.” And he turns to leave, halfway anticipating a bullet in his back anyway.

But it's only Widmore's voice that follows him. “Tell me, Daniel. How was Miss Spencer?”

He stops in his tracks.

“I imagine she wouldn't have been very pleased to see you. That is, if she was actually...present...when you visited yesterday.”

Daniel closes his eyes, and lets out a heavy breath. A bullet would have been better. “How do you know about...”

“I have a man keeping a close eye on her, of course. I don't often abandon my investments.”

He turns around, slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn't Abigail tell you who it was that paid for Theresa's care?”

Of course. “No,” Daniel says in a monotone. “No, she didn't.”

“Was she the one who gave you that black eye?”

He responds with a glare. “Why do you care?”

“Merely curious.” Widmore puts on a mask of innocence. “Can't really blame her, after all. With everything that poor girl's gone through, her sister's unfortunate...accident.” He shrugs. “Well, it would certainly be a shame if more bad luck were to befall that sad little family.”

Dan bristles, his eyes narrowing. “If you even think about it–”

“Then you'll do what?” Widmore snaps, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides. He's only a few inches taller than Dan, but he looms over him nonetheless, his eyes cold and menacing. “Finish your sentence, boy. Tell me exactly what it is that you think you, of all people, can threaten me with.”

Daniel's hands clench into fists at his sides. “Just leave them out of this.” He can feel his expression cracking. “Please.”

“I'm not the one who got them involved in the first place. That was you, Daniel. You and your carelessness.” Widmore's voice drips with venom. “Now, will you, once again, force them to suffer the consequences of your actions?”

Dan stares defiantly at him for a long moment.

Then he hangs his head, and closes his eyes. “What do I have to do,” he asks softly.

“That's better.” Widmore's footsteps echo as he walks back to the desk. “Come here.”

Daniel steps forward mechanically as Widmore gathers up the stack of papers. He’s still speaking, distantly, details that Dan should probably be listening to, but he's not sure he'd retain them anyway.

“And now, I have reason to believe that she might be in danger, from someone with the resources to track my every move,” Widmore is saying. He places it all in Daniel's hands. “That's why I have to send someone else to find her first, and keep her safe.”

“Well...” Dan shuffles through a few of the pages on top – plane tickets, hotel stays, car rentals, credit card records, a wealth of information, most of it for Desmond Hume and all of it apparently from 2001 or earlier. “Why does it have to be me?”

“As I said. Wherever she is, Desmond is with her.”

“Uh...” He blinks a few times, confused. “What does that have to do with–”

“Daniel, please, do yourself a favor.” Widmore shakes his head, looking annoyed. “Don't try playing dumb with me. I can guarantee you, it's never going to work,” he says sternly. “I know that you'll be able to track him down, and by extension, her as well.”

Daniel takes a deep breath and swallows against the lump forming in his throat; surely that can't be what Widmore is expecting him to do?

“Now, I have something else for you.” A drawer scrapes open, and the sound echoes in the empty space. “Consider it a gift, to help you accomplish your goal.”

He holds up a leather-bound journal, and Daniel's eyes widen. “What...”

“Here.” Widmore holds it out toward him. “It's yours, take it.”

And he does, in stunned silence. He runs his fingers over the familiar creases and cracks of the cover. “How the hell did you get this?”

“There's no answer I could give you that wouldn't lead to a dozen other questions.”

Dan opens the journal – his journal, filled with his own messy scribbles – and leafs through without really seeing any of it; it's all here, all his notes and equations and dog-eared pages and coffee stains. He closes it, and looks up at Widmore, with an overwhelming sense of dread. “What... What happens if I can't do it?”

“Daniel, I know much more about you than you realize. I know that you're a man of tremendous gifts.” His voice would be gentle, almost, in any other context. “I know that, with the proper...motivations, you will accomplish great things. So don't try to tell me what you can't do, when I know very well that you can.”

Daniel stares at his feet, and nods, numbly. This is really happening, then.

“Any more questions?”

His fingernails dig into the leather cover of the journal. He might as well be treading water in the middle of the Pacific. “Why,” is the only thing he can say, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

Widmore steps closer to him, and he stands still, defeated. “You don't have any children, do you, Daniel?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“Well, then, I can't really expect you to understand, but...” An unidentifiable expression crosses Charles' face. “Suffice it to say that a father will do whatever is necessary, to protect his children.”

He puts a hand on Dan's shoulder, and he looks away, sick to his stomach.

“Find her, Daniel. Keep my daughter safe.”

(next chapter)

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #lost show #abc lost #(JAZZ HANDS)

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