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jerzwriter · 3 years ago

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Unforgettable (AU) (Unblemished Part 2)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Teen

Category: Fluff with a bit of angst

Summary: Eighteen years ago, they tearfully ended their romance, and a deep friendship was born. Three years ago, they lost that too. Now, Casey finds herself in Boston, and they meet, potentially changing forever.

Warnings: Some sexual innuendo

Words: Approx. 2600 (sorry)

A/N: When I wrote Unblemished, I intended it to be a one-shot. Well, fanfic writers, if you had a dollar for every time that happened… An anon question had me thinking, and I realized their story was not over. As a reminder, this is an AU and not part of my Casey/Tobias HC.

A/N 2: Participating in @choicesfebruary2022challenge Day 16, Reunion

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. 😊

Follow up to Unblemished Can be read as a stand-alone

It was a perfect autumn morning. Scarlet and amber leaves created a beautiful contrast against the azure sky. The air was crisp, and the sounds of the city were punctuated by the laughter of children being rushed off to school. Casey took a sip of her coffee and smiled. She missed Boston from the day she left, but here, today, she was reminded of just how much.

She was meeting him for breakfast at ten, and she was uncharacteristically early. She didn’t want to disturb him by knocking so far in advance. So she strolled the streets of Back Bay, reminiscing about her younger days. Back then, this neighborhood was her home. The townhome she was apprehensive about visiting was her castle, and most of all, he was hers. Eighteen years had since passed, almost a lifetime, and if she knew anything now it was that life was filled with many different chapters.

She loved him too much to fully let go, and to her delight, they had remained friends through the years. Good friends who could always count on each other. She knew he was heart-wrenched when she met Craig, not six months after she left. She hadn’t planned on becoming involved with someone else so soon. But her new life in Durham was lonely. Professionally, her career at Duke was soaring, but personally was something else. Without close friendships like she had before, her free time was spent alone with nothing but memories of the life she had left behind.

That’s when she met Craig. His golden hair and kind hazel eyes were beguiling enough, but that smile could light up a room. He was funny and caring, a brilliant doctor who was in awe of her intelligence, beauty, and wit. He was head over heels by their second date, and Casey had someone who made a foreign place begin to feel like home. So, their story began.

Tobias pretended to be delighted for her when she shared the news, and, in time, he was. He met Craig several times, and by the time he stood up and watched them say their vows just over a year later, he considered him a friend. But Tobias wasn't prepared for the self-loathing he would feel as he watched Casey... his Casey... say her vows to another man. He couldn’t bring himself to stand in that place, now he was destined to love her forever when forever was the one thing he couldn't promise forever to her. He knew he had been a fool... but she was happy, and it was too late.

Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it helped him move on, and things became more comfortable. He was an old family friend who visited a few times a year. When her twins came along, they looked forward to seeing him as much as Casey. He was their fun “uncle” who spoiled them rotten and was always happy to roll around the floor and play. And sometimes, just sometimes, when watching them, she wondered how he hadn't considered this life for himself... for them. It would have tortured her if she allowed the thoughts to linger, but she would quickly push them aside. It no longer mattered they belonged to the past. She was married and Tobias was now her dear, dear friend.

Then, life happened. Casey was promoted, and so was Tobias. Her daughter's got older, and their studies and activities ate the little free time she had. Craig and Casey rarely had time together, and maintaining their relationship became harder to do. She didn’t lose touch with Tobias on purpose, but it wasn’t by accident either. On Tobias’s last visit to their home, he forgot to cover the tattoo on his wrist one morning, and Craig noticed right away. If it had happened when his relationship with Casey was still new, still strong, perhaps it wouldn’t have hit so hard, but those days were long gone, and now, it did.

“No man keeps a woman’s name on his body in a place where all the world can see it without reason! He's still in love with you, Casey!"

“Craig, you’re being ridiculous! Tobias and I are ancient history and you're overreacting!”

“Am I?! He's loaded! He could have it removed or altered if he wanted to, but nearly two decades later, he hasn't. And if it's no big deal, then why has he been hiding it from me all these years? All the years I befriended him, and had him sleeping under my roof! It took time for me to accept that my wife’s ex-lover was also her best friend, but I did because I thought what you shared was in the past. Now I know, at least for him, it never was!"

She knew she'd have to make a choice, and she chose her family. So the phone calls and texts tapered off, the visits stopped completely, and the years passed by. Casey lost track of the last time they spoke; it hurt too much to recall. But Tobias remembered, to the day.

A year in advance is when they received their invitations. Casey & Craig had been asked to speak at a conference being hosted in Boston, at Edenbrook to be exact. It was a two-week event and too good of an opportunity to pass up, so Casey accepted immediately; Craig sent his regrets.

“Of course, you have to go,” he said sarcastically over breakfast, never looking away from the newspaper in his hands. “Two weeks no less; that makes it all the more appealing. Doesn't it?”

In the past, she would have argued, defended, reassured. But she didn't have it in her anymore. Standing from the breakfast table, she threw her dish in the sink and left the room without a word.

And now, she was there in Boston. Anxiously waiting on a bench lining the picturesque street she once thought would always be her home. About fifteen minutes before she was supposed to arrive, she saw his familiar blue door open in the distance... then she walked out. Her stunning red mane glistened in the sunlight, and she was just beautiful; even wearing a far too baggy sweatshirt that Casey knew had to be his... she looked like a Botticelli angel.

They laughed... the two of them... and traded smiles. Before she turned away he wrapped her in a long embrace. Muscle memory is a weird thing, and though she was over half a block away, Casey knew just how that felt.

She stood and began walking toward the house, passing the young woman by as she did. Young being the operative word.

“Oh, Tobias,” Casey groaned to herself. She had to be less than half his age! But then again, what business was it of hers? She was there to see an old friend, her claim on him ended long, long ago.

The door swung open, and his smile was bright as the morning's sun. Casey felt her heart flutter; she forgot what his smile could do. He immediately took her in his arms, and they hugged for what felt like an eternity. She was relieved when he said they should eat out. Now that she was so near, she didn't think she could handle being in her former home, and Tobias knew he wasn't prepared to see her in it.

It was too nice of a day to be indoors, so they decided to pick food up at a local deli and eat along the Esplanade. Three years, four months, two weeks, and three days. That's how much time had elapsed between them. Tobias was quite sure of that. Yet, being together immediately felt like home. Breakfast was pleasant, filled with conversation and laughter, and neither wanted that to change. So she didn’t ask about the beautiful redhead that she saw him with earlier today, and he didn't tell her how his heart broke all over again when she stopped taking his calls.

When breakfast was done, they took a stroll along the river.

“So, you’re here for two weeks?” he said as if trying to convince himself.

“Mmm-hmm, a little over, actually. Since I won’t have much free time during the conference, and I extended a little to spend some time with Sienna.”

“Really?” He questioned. “I’m surprised that Craig and the girls are okay with you being away a day longer than you have to be.”

“Yeah, well…” she tapered.

He looked at her with growing concern, and she motioned toward a patch of grass. Sitting on the bare earth with her legs crisscrossed beneath. He leaned back on his elbows beside her, careful to keep a safe distance away.

“So," he asked gravely. "What’s going on?”

“Life… life changes,” she sighed.

It was clear that this was going to be a serious conversation, and he wanted to assure her that she had his full attention. So he sat up and removed his sunglasses to look her directly in her eyes. Casey let out a nervous little giggle, one that he knew well.

“Is something funny?” He smiled.

She grabbed his hand and ran her fingers over the tattoo on his wrist that still bore her name.

“This," she muttered. "Doesn't this bother you?"

Tobias looked down at her hand, which she mindlessly left wrapped in his. When she realized, she retreated, her cheeks turning red.

“No,” he stated without hesitation. “Not at all. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but loving you wasn't one of them. Sure, sometimes when I see it, I miss you, I miss you a lot... but thinking about you never makes me sad. But right now,” he stalled, “you tracing it, touching my hand, that bothered me a little.”

“Why?”

A tender smile came to his lips, and he didn’t have to say a word. She understood exactly what he would say.

“Do you ever wonder… what if?” She asked.

He turned away and faced the water, his eyes narrowing in deep thought. Several moments of silence hung between them before his answer came.

“Yeah. I do,” he whispered. “But... that's life. We both went on and got what we wanted, right? You’re married, you have two beautiful children, the big house, and you're happy…” he turned back to her, “Right?”

Casey deflected her eyes and swallowed to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she deflected his question with one of her own.

“What about you? Did you end up with the life that you wanted? Are you happy?”

A puff of air escaped him and he bit down hard on his lip.

“Let's just say that the life I wanted was a lot emptier than I expected it to be, and…” he swallowed.

“And what?” she asked, almost too eagerly.

He turned toward her, his face looking precisely as it had eighteen years before when he let her go.

“My biggest regret is that I didn’t recognize that sooner.”

He never took his eyes off hers, not even after he saw them brimming with tears. She pursed her lips in an attempt to keep them from falling, and then she just blurted it out.

“I’m divorcing Craig.”

Taken aback, Tobias’s blinked. “You’re what?”

“We’re getting divorced. I told him several months ago. The irony is he was planning to do the same; I just beat him to the punch. The truth is, our marriage had been dead for so long, and it’s time we bury it.”

“Wha… what happened?”

“In some ways, I guess he got tired of playing second best, and I got tired of pretending that wasn’t true. I know that makes me sound pretty awful, doesn’t it? But I wasn't doing it intentionally. I didn’t even realize I was until... but that doesn’t alleviate the guilt.”

“What about the girls?”

"They took it as well as can be expected. They’re sixteen now, and they could sense things weren’t … right. It’ll be an adjustment, but one thing I’m sure of is that Craig and I will put them first. They'll be off to college soon, so... it'll be OK. Right? It has to be."

He motioned to take her hand but thought better and pulled it away.

“I’m... I'm really sorry, Casey.”

“I’m not," she stated at once. "Sure, it’s hard, but…I finally get my life back, Tobias! I get to be me, and I don’t have to pretend anymore. Tobias, I am finally free….”

A look of relief came over him, and he then took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Then… I’m happy for you.”

They both turned toward the water, sitting in comfortable silence for a long period of time. A thousand questions were playing in his mind, and he was determined to keep them to himself. But in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the simplest yet most difficult question of all.

“Why?” he asked.

“Excuse me?

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“How did it happen? Why was he ‘second best’? Why?”

She looked upon him with a tenderness and sincerity he had never seen before. It came at the very moment she vowed to herself... no more lies, no more pretending. Even if it made things awkward or it meant that they returned to being strangers again, she had to live in her truth.

“Because I’m in love with you," she breathed. "I always have been. I can’t say I wish we never ended because I’d also be wishing away my girls, but in a perfect world, I would have stayed with you and still gotten them somehow,” she chuckled nervously. "I know I sound ridiculous right now. But I can’t tell you how many nights I've lied awake in bed, just wondering… I’m so sorry, T. I shouldn’t put this all on you. These were my mistakes, and they’re mine to live with, but you asked, and I couldn’t lie.”

She lowered her head, making sure her hair covered her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or fear that prevented her from facing him. But he never looked away. Not when her head bent forward, not when he saw her tears begin to fall, not when she lifted her hand to wipe them away. He reached over and gently raised her chin to face him again.

“You still… you still love me?" his voice cracked. "After all this time, you still love me?”

“I never stopped,” she wept. “I’m so sorry, T. I should have never left you."

“No,” he breathed. “I never should have let you go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. When you were awake thinking of me, I was under the same sky thinking of you. There hasn’t been a day that has passed in the last eighteen years that I haven't thought of you.”

Casey tried to form words, but it was an impossible feat. Her face twisted, the battle she was waging to hold back the sobs building inside of her lost. Tobias reached over and pulled her into his chest, holding her as close as he could, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and wishing he could take away the pain she was feeling.

“I love you, Casey,” he whispered. Releasing her with a nervous smile. "You know what this means, don’t you? If you want, and you don’t have to decide this right now, but if you want... this could be a second chance.”

“But, wait. Aren’t you with someone now?”

“Me?”

“Yes. I saw her earlier today. Right before I arrived, a beautiful young woman. You hugged her, and….”

“Casey,” he half-laughed, “that’s Bethany. She’s not my girlfriend, my God, she’s practically a child. She came into the hospital a few years back; she was in foster care. She was so lost, and she had no one. So I helped her out. Got her a safe place to stay and convinced her to go to college. I’ve been the much older big brother she never had. I love her to bits, but not in that way.”

Embarrassed, Casey playfully punched him in the arm. “Well, in fairness to me, old T would have had no problem with that.”

“Old T was dead from the moment I met you. But…I’m free as a bird, kid. And if you want to try this again, you just have to say the word.”

She reached up and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers. They kissed for the first time in nearly two decades, yet it was as familiar as if it had happened the day before. The heart always knows its home.

“You’d give me a second chance?” she whispered.

“You’d give me a second chance?” he asked.

“Yes,” she smiled through tears, “Yes! I never dreamed...”

“Neither did I,” he grinned, “but I’ll tell you something. I won't let you go this time. I’ve lived a lifetime without you, and I’m going to do all I can to make sure this is forever.”

“We always should have been forever.”

“Well, I believe life works out the way it’s supposed to, even if we don’t understand it. I wish we hadn’t missed all these years, but maybe we had to. Who knows, if one of us gave in back then, we may have resented each other, and grown apart, but now… we’re both where we are meant to be. We can’t throw this chance away.”

“No, we can’t. I love you, Tobias.”

“I love you, Casey.”

He raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek. She smiled when she noticed the tattoo and took his hand in hers, brushing her fingers along her name, and they both smiled.

“Does this bother you now?” she asked.

“Not in the slightest bit.”

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#tobias carrick #open heart choices #tobias carrick x mc #playchoices fan fiction #choices fan fiction #tobias x casey

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brettsey-two-tts · 3 years ago

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Brettsey Drabbles: Light

Stella Kidd was no stranger to love… or the very obviousness that was her best friend Sylvie Brett and roomie/Fiancé’s best friend, Matt Casey. She was always the observer; her eyes watched every slight movement, every turn of the wrist, every change in facial expression, and every gaze. It was hard to get things past her. However, she didn’t want to push her best friend too hard, no matter how stubborn the blonde paramedic was when it came to her feelings for a certain Captain. So, she let it ride and provided subtle encouragement here and there, with generous amounts of support when needed.

Severide nearly laughed at Stella’s excitement when Sylvie and Matt finally admitted their feelings to each other and got together. Stella remembered more than once when she complained to Severide and compared Sylvie and Matt’s relationship development to paint drying.

Even though the couple tried to hide their relationship (unsuccessfully), Stella picked up on a few subtle hints of affection between the two. When Sylvie and Matt were in the same room, they’d smile at each other and let it linger for no more than two seconds (she counted). When they were on the app floor together and away from so many prying eyes, he’d touch her elbow or her wrist. When they were about to turn in for the night in the bunk room, Sylvie would pop her head into Matt’s office to say a few things and then their smiles would spread to their eyes. When shift was over, Sylvie would subtly busy herself with minor tasks so she could leave with Matt.

And then everyone found out (even though they weren’t so subtle to begin with). The touches became more frequent, the lingering gazes and warm smiles were a lot more apparent, and Sylvie no longer had to deflect her reasoning for hanging around the firehouse after shift ended.

Stella even noticed their relaxed closeness at Molly’s; Matt’s hand would linger around Sylvie’s thigh underneath the table, her eyes would occasionally glance down at his lips, his hand would grasp at hers and rub circles into the back of her hand and around her knuckles, and he didn’t gel his hair as much as he used to (Sylvie slipped the confession of her aversion to his gelled hair to Stella during a phone call one night). When they walked together, thinking they were alone, his arm would hang across her back and over her shoulder, and he’d pull her in for a light kiss.

The happy couple made Stella equally happy as she loved seeing her best friend unequivocally happy.

The observances stopped when Stella had to go to Boston for a few Girls on Fire programs; the two-week trip eventually turned into a couple of months, and when she was set to return, she hoped things didn’t change between the two. Sylvie and Matt spent too much time falling in love with each other to let it falter so easily.

When she finally returned to Chicago, she didn’t have much time for observing since she spent most of her time catching up with her Firehouse family, so her first glimpse of the couple in their own element was at Molly’s.

Violet and Kylie were talking about a really good sale at a clothing store when Stella spotted Matt by himself at one of the tables.

He was looking down at his phone at the time, most likely scrolling through missed messages or newsfeeds. Stella’s eyes were trained on the Captain and briefly wondered where his better half was. And almost as if the universe had heard her, the front door popped open and Matt’s head tipped up.

His eyes lit up as his concentrated frown turned into a full-blown beaming smile. The corners of his eyes wrinkled from his joyous grin and his back straightened in delight. He tucked his phone into his pocket, intending to give someone else his full undivided attention, and what once was a beaming smile effortlessly melted into a loving and dorky grin. He looked at her with so much amazement and wonder and undiluted happiness.

Stella didn’t need to guess who walked through the front door because her Captain’s face told her all she needed to know.

Stella walked behind her and kneeled next to one of the doors that kept the good booze. She grabbed the bottle she was looking for and poured some of its contents into a stemless wine glass.

She slid the glass to the edge of the counter, right next to Violet, and heard Sylvie say, “Thanks, Stella!” Sylvie sounded so cheerful as she was no doubt overjoyed to sip on her favorite Rosé.

Stella nodded at her and flashed her a grin. When she turned back at the two ladies that sat at the bar in front of her, she saw both pairs of eyes on her.

“What?” Stella asked with a confused look.

Kylie stared, baffled. “You didn’t even check to see who came in. When the door opened, you poured the Rosé.”

Violet narrowed her eyes at the brunette in suspicion. “Do you have a third eye or something? Because that’d be so cool.”

Stella chuckled at the two and shrugged. “What can I say, I have these amazing bartender instincts.”

“Or,” Violet chimed in with a proud and smug smile, “You saw Casey’s face.” Stella suppressed her grin with a press of her lips. “Trust me, those two haven’t missed a beat since you left. They’re still very much in their honeymoon phase.”

Stella’s eyes briefly glanced at the couple just in time to catch their matching smiles and loving gazes pointed at each other. She was so incredibly happy for Sylvie. She deserved all the love in the world and then some.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #chicago fire #brettsey-drabbles #i love it when his face lights up when he sees her #give me more of their love please writers i need it #i need best man matt casey smiling at bridesmaid sylvie brett as severide and stella exchange vows #I FUCKING NEEEEEEED IT #and that smile better say 'i cant wait to marry you sylvie brett'#THE PAIN #i miss them so muchhhhh

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admiral-alby · 4 years ago

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bob fic recs galore

here’s the fruits of my labour. a working fic rec master-post containing multiple bob ships and many, many amazing fics. the writers in this fandom are absolutely incredible and their talent astounds me every time I read a new fic. all the kudos to y’all. keep on keeping on!

this is a long post. recs and some general notes are under the cut :)

(04/13/21) I’ll do my best to keep this list updated... or I’ll make a part 2 depending on length. if anyone has any recs that are not already listed in this post, please please message me! this is no way an exhaustive list and I’m sure I missed some fantastic fics out there - to get started I mostly just plucked from my bookmarks. I’d be happy to add on new fics for ANY pairing, rare-pairs included. I don’t really have much for rare-pairs in this rec because I haven’t read much yet but that will change soon when I have some more time on my hands to get into them :)

if you are an author on this list and you would like your work removed from it, please just message me. no explanation necessary I will take it off asap.

I’ll make the disclaimer that while I tried to include some general information about each fic, I did not include tags/warnings. so if you choose a fic, read the tags and proceed at your own discretion.

@capsparkyspeirs you’re a lovely human being and this is probably not what you were imagining when I said I’d be happy to rec some fics for you. I admit it got a little out of hand but there’s so many great fics out there I couldn’t stand to choose just a couple to send your way... so you get them all! you inspired me to do this, so this is for you and anyone else who wants to read some great fics but doesn’t know where to start <3

WINNIX (RICHARD WINTERS/LEWIS NIXON)

Long Ago and Far Away (Canon Winnix) by churchkey (Series) Rated T-E / Canon Era / 18013 Words (Total) / 4 Parts / Not Complete

Summary: “A few scenes exploring how Dick and Lew became the timeless cosmic lovers they were born to be.“

*Each part can be read as a stand-alone!

It Happened One Night by raquelelpillo Rated M / Groundhog Day AU / 7704 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Nixon gets the chance to do the day before the big jump over and over and over (or, Every Fandom Needs Groundhog's Day Fic).”

Finding Our Way in the Dark by rilla Rated E / Canon Era / Soulmate AU / 8477 Words / Complete

Summary: “After Dick and Lew share their first kiss in Austria, they open their eyes to find a golden thread binding their wrists together.“

Mutual by miss_grey Rated G / Canon Era / 2105 Words / Complete

Summary: “Dick couldn’t help wondering to himself when exactly Nix had decided that Dick’s personal space had become their mutual space.“

Let Me Be Close by armyofbees Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 8679 Words / Complete

Summary: “Five things Nix loves about Dick, and one thing Dick loves about Nix.Or,The thing about Nix, Dick is beginning to learn, is that he doesn’t love in halves. Nix loves with everything in him, and sometimes that means moving to the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania for Dick. Sometimes it means making spaghetti with him because Dick came to New Jersey and planted tomatoes, of all things. Sometimes it means telling without saying.”

Let’s Start the New Year Right by slightlytookish Rated G / Canon Era (Post-War) / 10523 Words / Complete

Summary: “Nix had always been able to pick Dick out of a crowd, even when he was lying on his belly in the dirt two hundred yards away, squinting through binoculars at an entire company of men wearing identical uniforms. It was easier to spot him in the crush of people inside Penn Station, even out of the familiar uniform: the same tall figure, the same bright hair, the same way he always seemed to find Nix just as easily and turn towards him, like an arrow on a compass.”

Lancaster County by raquelelpillo Rated T / AU / 31500 Words / 17 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Nix is born later. Dick is there. (AU). Set in the summer of 1942 in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

**It is part of a series with the other works being small ‘extras’ set through the story. This is the main work. It ends a bit ambiguously.

SPEIRTON (RONALD SPEIRS/CARWOOD LIPTON)

The Desolate House by Howling_Harpy Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 26672 Words / Complete

Summary: “It's been fifteen years since Carwood has last seen or spoken to Speirs when they reunite suddenly at an Easy Company reunion and have both recently relocated back to the US. Carwood has promised to his mother to finish packing and cleaning the family's boarding house that's about to be put up for sale, and on a whim invites Speirs to help him. He didn't expect him to actually show up.”

and you on my mind by seabright Rated E / Canon Era (Post-War) / 11081 Words / Complete

Summary: “’You say that you don’t want any of Easy to know that you’re in Boston but you give me your address.’ Following a relationship through the end of the war and beyond.”

Of Soldiers and Secrets by nanuk_dain Rated E / Canon Era / 62988 Words / 26 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “A series of moments in the life of the Easy men, from Foy until after the war, focussing on the development of the relationship of Carwood Lipton and Ronald Speirs.”

Erasure by Howling_Harpy Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 15255 Words / Complete

Summary: “Carwood takes time off from work to visit his mother to get away from his lonely life in Boston. Ron is deployed to Korea and has been for a long while, and after spending a year alone and even longer lying to everyone, Carwood is not sure he wants to live like this anymore.”

Fluences by masongirl (Series) Rated T-M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 12818 Words (Total) / 5 Works / Complete

Summary: “ Soulmate AU in which soulmates can sense each other's emotions if they are close enough.”

**Mainly Speirton centric. Part 2 is Winnix & Part 3 is Shifty/Tab.

A Thousand Kisses by Arwen88 Rated T / Canon Era / 1993 Words / Complete

Summary: “ A late night in Hardigny brings Carwood to the room where Ron is dealing with paperwork, but even with a comfortable bed, he can’t find his peace. Late night chats have Ron showing a side of himself that Carwood had not expected.”

stop the world by languageofthebirds Rated T / Canon Era / 3001 Words / Complete

Summary: “The way his hair fell in mussed waves over his forehead made Carwood want to reach out and run his fingers through it. He was sin personified, in that moment.”

**Did I throw in a shameless self promo? Sure did.

WEBGOTT (JOSEPH LIEBGOTT/DAVID WEBSTER)

rivers always reach the sea by bitchbutter (Series) Rated E / Canon Era / 40790 Words (Total) / 2 Works / Not Complete / Last Updated March 17, 2021

Part 1 Summary: “Joe breaks things off with Web in Austria. Of course, nothing with them is ever that simple.“

Part 2 Summary: “The end of the war could be the end of a lot of things. If Joe could let it be.“

if i know you at all, i know you’ve gone too far by starblessed Rated T / Canon Era / 2654 Words / Complete

Summary: “How many stars d’you think there are, Web?” Joe asks after a moment.David has no damned clue. “A lot,” he answers confidently. “Millions.”“Millions,” echoes Joe. The glittering stars are reflected in his eyes, like black pits sending each beam of light back outward. It’s almost hypnotizing, the way they flicker. If he stares too long, David knows he will get lost in them... and that doesn't seem like the worst way to go.”

Teller of Tales; Song of Songs by thedastardly Rated E / Canon Era (Post War) / 8352 Words / Complete

Summary: “He hopes that he dreams about the mountaintop tonight. He isn’t in the mood to dream of the water, the shore, the everything after, again.”

the only noise beating out is ours by lakehymn Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 3470 Words / Complete

Summary: “Over the next couple weeks, Webster realizes that Liebgott has effortlessly invaded every corner of his life. Even on the days when he barely sees Liebgott at all, he can always find comic books or packs of cigarettes lying around somewhere. It’s almost disconcerting how ordinary it’s beginning to feel to stumble upon someone else’s belongings in his own house.”

push and pull by LT_Aldo_Raine

Rated T / Modern AU / 4115 Words / Complete

Summary: ““got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in” And David Webster never could resist the ocean. OR: Webster snorted, a sardonic sound that echoed across the hotel room. “You don’t know the first thing about what I need.””

hang in there, baby by rilla Rated M / Modern AU / 3116 Words / Complete

Summary: “Written for the Kisstober prompt 'upside down Spiderman kisses'. '“I don’t know what I was expecting when I asked you what your top fantasy is,” Web says, “but it wasn’t this."'”

In His Wildest Dreams by Impala_Chick Rated E / Canon Era / Dream Sharing AU / 3891 Words / Complete

Summary: “While David is in the hospital, he starts sharing dreams with Liebgott.“

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines by thelastfig Rated E / Canon Era & Post War / 10185 Words / Complete

Summary: “It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs. In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.”

LUZTOYE (GEORGE LUZ/JOSEPH TOYE)

The best laid plans by masongirl (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 52652 Words (Total) / 15 Parts / Complete

Summary: “Modern AU in which Joe and George find each other as college students and build a life together.“

each and every day (of the year) by bruce_the_shark Rated M / Modern AU / 21630 Words / 2 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “Joe grins, lifts his hand from George’s hip to grip him by the chin, twists his face around to catch his lips in a bruising kiss. George relishes in it, likes how the taste of Joe’s preferred brand of liquor mixes with the taste of his own on his tongue. He grins against Joe’s lips, knows it’s going to be a good year.”

Babysitting and Other Rationales by aces_low Rated T / Modern AU / 3267 Words / Complete

Summary: “George Luz is a god damn saint, or at least some kind of kid whisperer. And Joe's just trying to keep his head on straight.”

who let the dogs in? by starblessed Rated T / Modern AU / 1869 Words / Complete

Summary: ““And he heard me shouting and I guess it inspired him or something, cause he full-on charged at me, Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he peed —““Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s our territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he won’t freakin’ leave.”

BABEROE (EDWARD HEFFRON/EUGENE ROE)

Call me sweetheart, please? by mariamegale (Series) Rated G-E / Modern AU / 95865 Words (Total) / 12 Works / Complete

Summary: “A not-relationship in the making.”

**Each part could be read as a standalone I suppose... But it’s so worth it to read the whole series!

between the walls by CountlessStars Rated M / Canon Era (Post-War) / 2275 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Eugene decides to paint his living room. It should be easy, it really should, but it doesn't go as planned (in more ways than one).”

Walking Wounded by papersky_pencilstars Rated G / Canon Era / Magic AU / 3501 Words / Complete

Summary: “Prompt: Canon-era; Either Gene or Babe have magic, or both. Maybe magic is known or maybe they need to hide it.”

JOHNNY MARTIN/BULL RANDLEMAN

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee Rated T / Canon Era / 22010 Words / 3 Chapters / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.”

All My Love to Give by Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 8852 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Johnny wants to screw around to pass the time. Bull wants to show Johnny how he feels without having to risk saying it”

The Red String by Arwen88 Rated M / Canon Era / Soulmates AU / 1834 Words / Complete

Summary: “He had to wrench his gaze away from the sickening sight, from the machine that was probably moments away from killing his soulmate. He would’ve thrown himself under that tank if that meant saving his lover, but he couldn’t do it. He had to take care of his men, and so he forced himself to stop looking, to order his men to retreat, to see that they did what he was screaming at them.“

Over Where You Began Muccamukk Rated E / Canon Era / 2949 Words / Complete

Summary: “ The way Bull saw it, Johnny was mad at him now, and Bull had no idea what he'd done wrong. Maybe it was better to just let it lie, let Johnny come out of whatever angry mood he was in on his own, instead of kicking an ant's nest.”

Simple as a Glass of Chocolate by ThrillingDetectiveTales Rated E / Canon Era / 2600 Words / Complete

Summary: ““It was supposed to be syrup,” Johnny muttered darkly. “Says right there on the can!”“Reckon it started out that way,” Bull shrugged, biting his lip against a smile when Johnny narrowed a glare over his shoulder.(In which Johnny and Bull try to sweeten up their sex life and it doesn't go exactly as planned.)”

CHUCK GRANT/RONALD SPEIRS

to Babel, in ruins by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era (Post-War) / 5114 Words / Complete

Summary: “Chuck knows recovery isn't a linear event. Knows there are times when words will leave him and the night will place him back beneath the dirt. Knows there are things he just can't speak about.Captain Speirs hears him anyway.”

pulse by captainkilly Rated T / Canon Era / 4706 Words / Complete

Summary: “ Ron Speirs knows how to kill. Knows how to hurt, how to twist, how to maim. He doesn't think he's figured out how to love, not really, not where it counts the most, but the touches he reserves for Chuck Grant beg to differ.. “

AUTHORS

there are so many authors on this list that have written tons of amazing works for one or multiple pairings. as much as I would have loved to, I couldn’t rec all of their works... I had a hard enough time keeping it down to 3 or less works from the same author! similar to fics, I’ve only linked authors that I am familiar with/know have written multiple fics, so feel free to send me more people to add to the list :)

churchkey - is a sweetheart. has multiple amazing winnix works. she has recently gotten into super rarepair toye/malarkey. godspeed I’ll see you there when I read those fics.

ThrillingDetectiveTales - writes for multiple pairings. all of their works are fantastic! every time I see their name as the author I go !! and know it’s going to be good.

Howling_Harpy - has written so many fics. many different pairings. lots of speirton. they’ve ripped my heart out and made me cry but then gently kissed my forehead and put my heart back. I think that’s praise of the highest order.

masongirl - another fantastic author who has written so many amazing fics. tons of speirton and other ships too. also has made me cry and then quietly wiped my tears away.

mariamegale - baberoe queen. that’s all I have to say. I was tempted to just rec all her baberoe fics. check them out!

Muccamukk - another multi ship, multi works writer. i had a hard time only choosing a few of their fics to rec. they’ve got so much to offer!

Impala_Chick - writes lots of great webgott and other pairings too!

captainkilly - if i could rec all her fics I would. there’s some rarepair pieces that are fantastic. I didn’t list it here because it’s more of a character centric piece with an OFC and a little bit of ron/chuck dashed in mostly at the end, but read her form & void series. seriously. read it. I have nothing else to say because her work speaks for itself.

Arwen88 - another writer for multiple pairings with multiple works! love to see it. some great rarepair stuff and also fantastic popular pairings.

LT_Aldo_Raine - love their work! they write for multiple pairings.

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years ago

Note

♠: One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

You can pick which Ethan x MC. I’m down for both 💕

Poco a Poco

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall) Rating: Teen+ Summary: She accompanies him to an awards gala. It’s the first time they’re out in public together, and a certain doctor is appreciating the view. Trope: Fluff, Date, Gala; Protective; Pining

A/N: thanks Sara 💖

__________________

She walked out like it was just a typical day; leaving the hospital behind like she was heading home, finally, hours after her scheduled shift had ended.

Odette sauntered like there wasn’t anything different about today at all. Head held high, petite shoulders pushed back to elongate the column of her neck and highlight her impeccable posture. She moved effortlessly over the concrete as if each step were the intended note of tonight’s melody - Not like she was dressed in a form fitting evening gown, long platinum hair pulled back and cascading in a signature stylized-ponytail. Her trusty wool trench coat hiding much of the strapless bodice.

His black sedan sat idly at the curb awaiting her arrival. In the last two years Ethan has known her, he’s come to learn she was never late – always promptly two minutes early. Tonight he made sure he was five – didn’t want her waiting at the curb in the cold, he told himself as he tried to pass the excruciatingly long three minutes.

Odette’s doing him a favor tonight. She’s accompanying him to this incessant function where he’s being honored for his work with the W.H.O. earlier that year. Ethan simply couldn’t brush it off, and he certainly couldn’t bear even the thought of being alone at such an event full of self-righteous asshats. So, he asked her to join him - to “lessen the torture” - with a promise of introducing her to key individuals in their field. Odette accepted, quite happily - the timid look on his face as he asked was convincing enough.

It’s not like this is the first time they’ve dressed up to go somewhere together. They’ve been having these kinds of evenings more and more it seems. But this is the first time the new friends would be seen together by someone other than the waitstaff at the Boston Opera.

Ethan’s eyes lingered on her in the rearview mirror. His heart began beating just a bit faster as it always does when she’s near. He couldn’t look away if he tried - frankly he didn’t even bother to try.

She doesn’t look much different than when he saw her an hour earlier - isn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary for nights like these as far as he can tell in the dimming street lighting. Yet she still has the power to render him incapacitated, utterly speechless by her grace alone. And from the safety of his car Ethan doesn’t feel quite as bad for appreciating her form.

He came to his full senses when the tune of her heels became louder and his throat drier.

His deft fingers clicked unlock just as she reached to open the passenger-side door.

“Hey! Didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” Her voice so chipper as she settled into the leather seat.

If Ethan Ramsey could form a coherent thought he would have made a comment about how anyone could share the same verity for life after working since dawn and then being forced to dress in a locker room for this pointless affair.

Instead he took in a cleansing breath tainted by her delirium-inducing perfume. Ignored the alluring state of her by fixing his stare on the shallow crease of her forehead. Exhaled. And said,

“No. I’d say we were perfectly timed.”

His azure eyes traveled down to hers - deep emerald enhanced by the dark fabrics she chose to wear - on their own accord. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She smiled right back, “Great.”

With the slightest stammer even he wasn’t aware of, Ethan started the car.

***

At the venue Ethan and Odette hadn’t taken more than two steps from handing keys over to the valet when —

“Ethan!” a voice boomed through the crowd.

Ethan groaned deep and afflicted at the sound, his eyes searching the scene crazily before realizing that there wasn’t enough time to grab Ode’s hand and flee. He chanced a glance to the woman close by his side, already smiling warmly, welcoming the stranger like only someone like she could.

“Enrich,” Ethan replied, not bothering to hide even an ounce of distain on his tone.

The slyly confident man clapped Ethan on the shoulder without regard for personal space, “How’s the guest of honor?”

“I am not the only one,” Ethan all but growled. The muscles in his face working hard to keep impassive - small fibers of his being not wanting to tarnish the evening so early with a sour attitude. He owed it to her to at least be civil.

“There’s an entire team of physicians being recognized this evening.”

“Alright,” Enrich chortled, more for show than as a reaction. He nodded just once, removing his hand from Ethan’s shoulder. “The only one that matters.”

Enrich’s tight smile accompanied the silence hanging between the men. A silence long enough for Enrich to take a gander towards the vision to Ethan’s left.

His hungry grey eyes took a long look at Odette. Two excruciating seconds too long without saying a single thing. His gaze moving from her face to her chest to the hem of her dress. And as they made their way back up her curves to settle on the dip of her necklace, Ethan placed his hand on the small of Odette’s back. As if the small movement could shield her from the man’s predatory intentions.

Enrich caught the movement, darkened eyes darting back to the honorable man before him. The two dignitaries held a wordless conversation. A silent showdown.

Enrich straightened his back, rose an eyebrow and was the last one to speak;

“Have a lovely evening,” Before turning on the heels of his pristine oxfords and into the sway, calling out another’s name.

Ethan was silently fuming, ears reddening and jaw rigid as he watched Enrich walk away with that detestable swagger. Pads of his fingers adding a slight pressure to her back as he fights to keep shreds of his composure.

Ode felt the change in mood. Her natural instinct moving to break his line of sight. Standing closely in front of him, closer than two colleagues ought in a bubble all their own, her dainty fingers went to wrap around the gold silk of his tie. She fiddled with the windsor knot, pretending to adjust it. Her movements tactical and enough for Ethan to begin to become more aware of her presence than the hatred he has for Enrich Valentine.

Immediately his jaw loosened and his shoulders fell into contentment.

“Breathe.” The word was a commanding whisper meant solely for him.

When his darkened eyes met hers all Ethan found is a quizzical expression held in the dip of her dainty brows and in the flecks of gold of her irises that match the autumnal sunset behind him.

He’s looking at her and she’s still so damn radiant. Gorgeous and amazing and not a single emotion pointing to what’s just transpired. Ethan can’t tell if she realized she was just being objectified by the worst kind of man, and if she knows then why is she still smiling. Why is she pretending like what’s just happened was nothing? There’s so much more Ethan Ramsey craves to learn about Odette Hall.

She gently squeezes his bicep bringing him down from whatever cloud he was on.

“Ready?”

He let out a breath and nodded once.

She smiled privately and took Ethan’s offered arm. He tucks her ringless fingers into the crook, and they descended into one of the many nights like these they will share.

____________________

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @therookie @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

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#thesassywitchofthenortheast #asked #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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iamanartichoke · 3 years ago

Text

[please blacklist spoiler tags: #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, #loki spoilers]

Yes, I did just watch episode 2 at 5:30 in the morning.

No, I am not sorry. Not at the moment, although when I inevitably crash later this afternoon, I will be.

Just some very, very quick - and scattered and messy - thoughts: That is a straight up lie; they’re definitely scattered and messy but not very quick at all.

Under the cut for spoilers and length.

I’m going to start with Loki’s characterization. My honest opinion is that Loki’s overall characterization feels like a fic characterization. He definitely is not Avengers Loki, like, at all. I don't know if Tom just, like, forgot how to play that Loki or ...?? That, or Loki was so much more mind-controlled than we realized and getting hulk-smashed just completely reset him back to zero but also fucked him up a little bit and affected his personality, kind of like how some people completely develop weird new personality quirks after a traumatic brain injury.

… yeah, I think that’s where I’m gonna land for now. TV series!Loki feels like a more-or-less canon version of Loki, but if that Loki got hit in the head really hard and now he’s just a little bit fucked up but overall no worse for the wear. Which - it may be that it’s so early in the morning, but that’s actually really fucking funny to me, lmao. God, I kill me. It’s not funny.

No, but, that’s pretty much how I feel. He’s ooc but he’s also ic, and the reason I’m not particularly bothered by the inconsistency, for lack of a better word, is because that’s what pretty much every fic Loki already feels like to me? (Including my own, so I’m not, like, saying that in a derogatory way.) Which is why I say Loki feels like a fic!Loki and to try to explain it better - there is always, for me, a little suspension of disbelief that I employ when I read fic. The reason for that is because the context, the plot, and the dynamics of the fic are usually pretty different than what we ever get in canon, so it becomes a matter of taking film!Loki and, like, bending him a bit in order to fit him into the perimeters of the fic.

The result ends up being that I don’t see the exact Avengers!Loki or TDW!Loki, and thus by definition the portrayal is ooc, but the version that I do see feels like a genuine extension of the canon version, possessing enough of Loki’s overall traits and characteristics that he feels authentic, albeit a bit pretzeled for the new context.

I honestly think that’s something that’s unavoidable, just due to the fact that in fic - and now, in this series - there are a lot more variables at play than there are in the films, wherein Loki is not just a supporting character but also the villain/antagonist and is therefore very limited in what he does/what the narrative allows him to do. When those limitations are taken away, what are we going to see? Probably a lot of different things, and yeah, a lot of them are going to feel a little ooc. And, like in fic, even if the characterization mostly lands, there are definitely bits and pieces (some fics more than others lean this way) where the author didn’t stick the landing or got carried away or otherwise probably forgot for a while that they were writing Loki, not their own OC.

That’s the point where it strays into cringe territory for me (and where the ‘heh, he’s Loki but with a brain injury’ aspect comes in), but while I had to consciously decide to just ignore those moments, overall the tone in this episode felt a bit more balanced between the new, the old, and the cringe, and less whiplash-y from the beginning of the episode to the end.

… I have no idea if that makes sense, but what I’m basically saying is that while I am enjoying this version of Loki, I do recognize all of the ways he’s ooc but, unlike how I feel about Ragnarok!Loki, the ooc-ness feels genuine and unavoidable rather than just a fundamental and careless misunderstanding of the character altogether. In other words, I feel like any ooc-ness here is happening despite the writers taking care to do their best, and isn’t just a result of Loki being lazily written by a person or persons who just doesn’t want to bother with him at all.

Again, I don’t know if that makes sense, but fuck it, there we are and I’m moving on.

I liked all of the little details, including again, things that felt straight out of fic, like Loki asking Mobius why he has the jetski magazine. (Also, if any of my thorki friends read this, was I the only one who noticed that when we see Loki reading the magazine, it just happens to be open to a page with a picture featuring a jet skier who looks like Thor? l.m.a.o.)

Loki interrupting things to explain the difference between illusions vs the other power (I can’t remember which one, off hand, and if I stop writing to go look it up I will lose my train of thought and not finish this) was great, but his overall input and contributions to the missions inspired very mixed feelings for me. On the one hand, I loved that the narrative, via Loki, is reminding us of all these things that he’s capable of that the films generally left out or brushed aside or ignored - but, every time he spoke, he was met with eye rolls and sighs and just a general feeling of “someone please shut this guy up” and I didn’t like the narrative treating him that way.

But also, it’s understandable bc none of the people on his team are actually on his team. None of them want him there (story of Loki’s fucking life), none of them trust him, and none of them are particularly interested in hearing what he has to say. So it’s like, I understand why they reacted the way they did, and I don’t think their reactions are meant to support an overall narrative undermining of Loki’s skills and input - but, the tone is hard to read for me bc I am very defensive and protective of Loki. I can’t quite determine the line between the TVA agents being unreliable narrators (ie, they’re annoyed by Loki bc of who he is to them, but that doesn’t mean the audience is supposed to feel the same) and the TVA agents validating that Loki is just being a nuisance (and, thus, the audience is supposed to feel the same).

That is, I know how I am consuming the narrative (that they’re unreliable narrators), but I’m not sure if that’s how tptb are intending for me to consume the narrative - and I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it’s worth mentioning.

In general, I really liked, again, Loki existing in his own space and watching the way he carried himself. I especially found it interesting that his hands were almost always in his pockets - for one thing it's a stance I tend to imagine him taking often in fic, but also it’s kind of a weird choice bc pockets don’t seem to be a thing in Asgardian clothing. It makes me feel like Loki is the kind of person who never knows what to do with his hands but is always conscious of them, as is common among anxious and self-conscious people, and I just find that relatable on a weird level.

I am really kinda torn on Mobius in this episode; when not interrogating Loki, he’s much less antagonistic toward Loki and therefore I’m more inclined to take-him-or-leave-him but I’ll go ahead and take him I guess. Yet at the same time, bc he’s not interrogating Loki he’s also not trying to put on a show for Loki and when you take that away, he really doesn’t seem to like Loki at all. It supports that Mobius only wants what Loki can do for him and doesn’t actually particularly care about him as a person, which is fine and more or less what I figured, but it contributes to me not really being able to decide how I feel about him in general. Idk, though, I kinda like their dynamic? Like I want them to end up friends?

Regardless, Tom and Owen have amazing chemistry and it’s really funny to me bc (not to be a jerk) I honestly didn’t know Owen Wilson could act. Like, I’ve never seen him in a role where he wasn’t just playing Owen Wilson. So for him to not only be playing Mobius so well but also having such chemistry and a sense of holding-his-own against Tom Hiddleston is like, color me surprised but pleasantly so.

I like B-15 a lot, even though she obviously hates Loki, so idk why I like her but I do. I like Renslayer less, but meh. (Side note - when I was in undergrad in Syracuse, I took the Amtrak from Syracuse to Boston and back more than a few times, for reasons that aren’t relevant, and that route always had a layover at Albany-Rensselaer and every single time I see Renslayer’s name, I want to call her Rensselaer instead.) Shout out to the guest appearance by Casey, sorry Loki stole your juice lmfao.

The moments from the trailer that were very cringe were less so in context (though still kinda cringe, tbh). I think we’ve seen most of the content from the trailers in the first two episodes now, though, which means going forward, it’s going to be like 95% previously unseen material (aside from the brief apocalyptic shots and so forth).

One thing I fucking loved was how Loki, reading about Ragnarok, was visibly affected and even teared up a bit, and you could tell he was in his feels about it, but then later when Mobius expresses sympathy, Loki is just like, “Uh huh, very sad, but anyway.” It was a subtle (well maybe not that subtle) but effective way to remind us that what Loki presents to other people is more often than not a mask and he keeps his true feelings close to the chest. It makes last week’s breakdown have even more of an impact, I think, bc clearly Loki was at the end of his rope to allow himself to show that much raw emotion and vulnerability, but also - for me - there’s a niggling little doubt there that wasn’t there before, in that there was probably more performance in it than I thought.

By which I mean, I think his reaction to the film of his life when he was alone was genuine but, while I previously thought his admission to Mobius later was also genuine, I now think was probably half genuine and half performative. I know others already figured that out, but I’m a little slow and, also, I don’t mind changing my opinion and interpretation from week to week.

Along the same lines, I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that Loki is “undercover” in the TVA, but it was nice to see it acknowledged fairly quickly. Not sure I buy that Loki wants to overthrow and rule the TVA - it’s still a little too “Loki only wants a throne” for me, but again, just because that’s what he told the variant doesn’t mean that’s actually what he’s after.

And, finally, I like the variant, I love Loki’s reaction to seeing her, and while I realize that the show has acknowledged Loki’s gender fluidity and we’re meant to assume that Lady Loki (I guess? Not sure if we’re going with that or not here) is Loki, I saw a theory somewhere about how this is actually not Loki-Loki, but - I wanna say her name Sophie but that’s the actress, again I can’t go look it up bc I will lose my train of thought - but it’s a character who is similar to Amora and who was created by Loki and models herself as Loki but she’s actually someone else.

Ugh I can’t remember the details of the theory, but I am kinda going with it bc I don’t think that Loki would look so - not surprised but just kind of “oh, well, I wasn’t expecting that” if he were seeing the female version of himself. Like, he doesn’t seem to recognize her the way I assume he would recognize himself, male or female. Not only does that make me feel like she’s actually someone else, but also not recognizing her as the female version of himself doesn’t necessarily mean Loki doesn’t recognize her at all. He may very well recognize her as this other Amora-similar character and, if so, I really want to see how that character fits with MCU Loki (as I think she’s a comic book character but, again, I’d have to go back and find that theory).

Edit: I found a version of it here.

Overall score, B-. Mostly solid, but needs moar Loki breakdowns and tears. (That's just me, don't fucking judge me.) Also, I really hate that we have to wait a week between episodes. I wish they were following Netflix’s method of dropping the entire season at once but, then again, if they did that, I’m not sure any of us would survive.

I gotta get ready for work and I deleted and rewrote so much of this and it still seems nonsensical to me, lmfao fml. Anyway feel free to interact/send me asks/whatever, it’s going to be a long fucking day with all of this on my mind. I’ll be working my way through my dash as best as I can.

Oh, also! Loki is so fucking pretty in this episode! The TVA suit is ugly, but he makes it work, and his hair's combed nicely and he looks like he finally got an opportunity to sleep and shower and eat something and, yknow, it's working for him.

#loki tv series spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki pokey artichokey #also thought it was interesting that as soon as mobius gave him the jacket #loki barely took it off and didn't go anywhere without it #lending even more credence to the fact that he likes to be as covered up as possible at all times

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alwaysmychoices · 4 years ago

Text

The Memorial

Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.

Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: T (language)

tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk

disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.

That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.

There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.

Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.

For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.

But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.

Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.

Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.

The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.

But they hadn’t touched the root of it.

They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.

They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.

Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.

But Ethan knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.

Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.

“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.

“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.

“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”

Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.

Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.

Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.

“Will you be attending the memorial today?”

He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.

Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.

It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.

“Is that today?”

Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”

Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.

As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!

They…

They died for her.

Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.

“I have to go, Ethan.”

“No, you don’t.”

They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.

“Ethan.”

“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”

“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”

“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”

Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.

But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.

All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.

“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”

Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.

She owed it to Bobby and Danny…

“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”

He’s scared, she realized quietly.

It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.

Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?

Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.

He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

But really, they needed it equally.

They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.

“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.

“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.

She loved him so, so much.

“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.

Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I will be!” Charlie insisted.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.

Charlie wished he would anyway.

She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.

They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.

Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”

She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”

Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.

She was free.

They were both free.

Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.

“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.

“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”

“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.

“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”

Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.

But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.

She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.

It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.

Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.

“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.

When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.

She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.

But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.

Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.

It was a powerful and cheerful time.

But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.

She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.

It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.

They never made it out.

Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.

But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.

She wouldn’t let it stop her.

What makes you so deserving to get out?

Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.

They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.

She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.

They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.

Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.

“They deserved life more, you bitch.”

“You only lived because you’re a coward.”

“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”

Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.

It followed her.

It was everywhere.

The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.

Like the infection that should have killed her.

Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.

She didn’t always know where she was.

Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?

Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.

Somehow, she made it home.

She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Then she realized she was just staring at her building.

She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.

Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.

She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.

A mile later, she finally decided.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.

The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.

Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.

“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.

“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”

“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.

A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”

When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.

Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.

While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.

“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.

Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”

Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”

“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”

Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.

“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.

He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.

Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.

Charlie accepted.

They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.

Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.

“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.

“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.

“I am.”

Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.

“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.

“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.

Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.

“Does it stay like this?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.

Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.

But Rafael told her the truth instead.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”

His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.

“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”

Rafael looked terrified.

He was, he realized belatedly.

Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.

“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”

Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.

“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.

“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”

Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.

When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.

The silence was nice.

Neither of them expected anything from the other.

They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…

Maybe they should have stayed.

But they didn’t.

Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.

Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.

“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.

Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.

“Thank you for making it out of that room.”

Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.

They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.

“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.

He smiled softly, and then she left.

This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.

It was… eerily the same.

Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.

Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.

The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.

Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.

She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…

It surrounded her.

It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.

She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.

She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.

She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.

Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.

When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.

The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.

Then…

She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?

She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.

Charlie screamed.

No. No, Charlie really screamed.

She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.

She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.

She slid. Or maybe she sat down.

But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.

She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.

In the water, that it would wash away her pain.

In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.

In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.

But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.

Then…

When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.

Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.

And then it was over.

What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.

Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.

Everything looked the same, but…

But the sun was lower.

Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.

An hour.

She had lost an hour.

The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.

It was… Ethan.

And he was dressed in a suit.

Why was he-?

The memorial.

Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.

He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…

Confused.

And scared.

Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…

“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”

“Three,” Ethan answered.

“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.

Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.

The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.

What was it?

How did he help her?

“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.

“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”

“For how long, Charlotte?”

Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.

He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”

Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.

She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.

But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.

Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.

He only cared that he had her.

“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”

“Ethan!”

“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.

“I have to be there!”

“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”

He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.

“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.

“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.

“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.

Ethan felt a moment of pause.

The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.

His heart broke.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.

And he caved.

He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.

He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”

Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.

Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.

Why couldn’t she just be okay?!

Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.

Ethan didn’t believe her.

Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”

She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.

Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.

Then, she was ready…

And he had to take her.

Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.

Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.

He never left her.

Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.

It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.

When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”

Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.

But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”

Charlie considered it.

In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.

She couldn’t even hear it.

“I think I want to go home,” she replied.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”

Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.

In the car, Ethan held her hand.

The fog was back and even stronger.

Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.

Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.

Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.

Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…

He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.

He didn’t want to grieve.

Neither did she.

He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.

Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.

Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”

Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.

“Not at all.”

Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.

“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.

But really, did she even feel safe there?

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips, “We still can.”

Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”

“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.

“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.

Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…

When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.

“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

“So am I.”

Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…

They happened.

They were real.

They followed her anyway.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”

Something was stabbing her.

Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.

“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.

She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or maybe she could…

She panted, trying to just fucking decide.

The fog was gone. The haze left.

And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.

Nothing came to save her from the feeling.

She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.

The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.

No, she was wrong.

There was one thing to hold on to.

And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.

Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.

That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written.

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#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart 2 #choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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treatian · 3 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Family Bonds

Chapter 11: Chance Enlightenment

He'd given Emma one more hour than he needed, so he took his time. He drove home from Mary Margaret's apartment, showered, and changed clothes. He didn't pack much for this trip, it wasn't exactly something that he needed a lot for. Either he'd find his Baelfire and they'd be happily reunited and on their way back to Storybrooke, or it would go poorly and he'd be returning to Storybrooke alone. Either way, he couldn't see himself needing more than a change or two of clothes. If he needed more, he could buy more, but staying long enough to warrant that would be incredibly uncomfortable and even unsafe. As he understood it, so long as he was outside of Storybrooke, he'd have to keep Bae's shawl with him at all times, eating, drinking, sleeping, none of that posed a problem. But showering…that could be an issue. Water risked diluting the potion on it and canceling out the magic within. He could go a few days without bathing, but certainly no longer than that.

When he'd finished with those tasks, he took his credit card to the old laptop computer Mr. Gold kept in his office but never used. It was a big awkward thing, but he'd liked it because he could keep it off of his desk and out of sight. Of course, the problem was that Mr. Gold had always liked keeping it out of sight so much that it was never used. But for this, he booted it up quickly and searched the internet for flights to New York City from Boston. There was one with plenty of space still left on it. It departed at 8:23 PM. Ridiculous. There was no sense in that when it could leave at 8:20 or 8:30, hell, even 8:25! But he stomached his sense of irritation and booked two tickets anyway; one in his own name and one in Emma's. They had an entire row to themselves. The flight was approximately an hour, which put them into New York City late. Nearly a 9:30 PM arrival. The vision he'd had of seeing his son drop from above and flee had clearly taken place in the daylight. He'd have to find them some place to stay the night as well. Already he was liking this less and less.

He packed some twine to tie around Bae's shawl to keep it around his neck as once he left Storybrooke he'd be human again and have to submit to human weaknesses such as sleep. That would ensure that it stayed with him through the night. Flights booked, a two-bedroom suit in a nice hotel near the place the globe had told him Baelfire was secured, bags packed, he put his case in the car with plenty of room for Emma and her baggage, stopped at the shop to pick up Baelfire's shawl, and then finally departed for his final stop.

The nurse didn't stop him when they made eye contact this time, nor did they exchange words or need to. She simply sighed, put her hands on hips, and raised her eyebrows at him, a look that spoke for itself. "Do what you have to do and don't fuck this up." That was what he intended.

Belle was awake when he arrived. She had been lying down in her bed, turned away from the glass wall behind her, but she'd turned when the door had opened and closed. Instantly he recognized her heartbeat hitch. She took a deep breath and immediately scrambled up into a sitting position, legs drawn into her chest. The glare she cast him…it was familiar. It was fiery and irritated. It wasn't a look that she gave him when she was happy, but rather one that she hadn't given him for a long time, not since the days of the Dark Castle when he'd first kept her in that dungeon for a room. She'd been wearing that look when he'd found her crying and given her a pillow "to muffle the noise" he'd claimed. It was a look of disgust and anger. But for all of half a second it was familiar enough to lift his spirits. She had the same looks as Belle, this stranger. Perhaps Dr. Whale was right then. What had he suggested after they stabilized her? "Let things happen as they would?" Maybe, just maybe, that theory held water.

But where to begin now?

She said nothing to him as he stood there. And he said nothing to her, too lost in a jumble of thoughts that couldn't decide what to say first. He had forty-five minutes; how was he supposed to do this? He looked around the room. On the table he spotted the bag he'd given to be delivered to her earlier. But there on the little table beside her, was the phone he'd given her not long ago. The phone with his numbers in it. She had it with her, close by. That was good. It was very good.

There was a chair by the glass wall and he helped himself down into it, but didn't relax, not really. He kept himself forward, his cane between his legs, searching, trying to find the proper way to tell her what he needed to say to her. He imagined that it would be news that lifted her spirits, but it still scared the hell out of him.

"I know you think you don't know me," he began, the words sounding timid, as if he were testing them instead of actually using them.

"I don't think, I know!" she snapped. He glanced up to look at her then and found that she'd turned her gaze away from him and was staring at the opposite wall, where the teacup had smashed. It was as if she was determined to avoid him completely. Was this even worth it? "I don't know you, Mr. Gold-"

"I know!" He took a breath. He hadn't given permission for those words to come out of his mouth, and he hadn't wanted them to, especially not with that tone. But he was so sick of this already, so sick of her saying that one thing over and over and over again. Fuck. How was he supposed to do this? "I know…I know that's what you think," he managed in a better, less harsh tone. "I just wish I knew how to prove to you otherwise."

She turned her gaze upon him then, still looking irritated, still looking disgusted, but curious in a way too. As if she might accept any proof that he brought to her of their relationship, anything beyond a teacup. Why hadn't they taken pictures together? Why did she not have any birthmarks in secret places of her body that he could tell her about to prove their intimacy? Would a remark like that even be welcome right now? Or would it just scare her? He remembered the look the nurse had given him before coming in. She'd probably disagree with a decision to tell her where she liked to be kissed, or her most sensitive areas to his touch. She'd probably raise holy hell if he tried to tell her about the sounds she made when they-

"If you know, then why are you here, Mr. Gold."

He glanced back up at her, the room and its occupant coming back into focus, right along with his intended goal. Tell her what she needs to know only.

"I had to see you again," he explained. "I'm going out of town for a while. I don't know how long-"

"Great. Have a nice trip!" she commented before he could finish. He stared at her. It was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one, but forceful and sarcastic. It was the sort of response Belle would give if she was pissed at him. More hope for the future?

For the future…not for now. For now, he needed to get this done.

"I've made a deal, an arrangement, so that while I'm gone no one will harm you. Still, if you should have any problems, I want you to call me…" He reached forward to grab the phone he'd given her off the stand-

And suddenly found it gone, snatched from his hands before his fingers could close around it.

"Don't touch that! It's mine!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. He felt his hands tighten around his cane, and a spark of frustration flared through his body as he watched her hold it to her chest. He focused on breathing and calming himself back down but hadn't entirely managed before the door to her room opened again. He expected the nurse to chastise him but instead found a different nurse, a man he knew only from rent collection, but Belle appeared to know him differently.

"No, please," she groaned, looking at him, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "Please, no more needles and drugs! Please! I'm fine!" she begged. "Just leave me alone! Why won't everyone just leave me alone?! Why won't everyone stop watching me?!"

She gestured to the wall behind him, the wall made of windows. And there he saw everyone passing in the hall, everyone in the waiting room, was in fact, looking into the room, watching her, watching them—watching him. He felt like an animal at the zoo. And for someone who didn't have their memories…

All at once it was as if a light had turned on in his head, a recognition and understanding of the situation that he hadn't had before. She wanted to be left alone. Whale said that she needed time. She didn't need drugs, she needed privacy, time to process what had happened to her and where she was. Drugs weren't going to help that, and neither was a glass fucking wall!

On the other side of the bed Johannes Schaffer ignored her pleas and took a few steps closer and he watched as her mental state began to crumble and dissolve before his eyes. Johannes had ignored her, but would he ignore the Dark One? Would he ignore Mr. Gold?

He couldn't use magic here, so Mr. Gold was all he had.

He rose quickly from his seat and planted his feet in the path between Schaffer and Belle. It was as if time had stopped. The room went silent. His footsteps paused; even Belle's whimpering was muted. He threw a glance out the window to find that the nurses who had been gathering outside to help Shaffer had also stopped their motion. And those outside the room were now watching the pair of them and not Belle, which was precisely how he wanted it. She may not know who he was, but they did.

"I think we're fine here, Mr. Shaffer," he commented with complete certainty. "Wouldn't you say so?"

He turned to look at Belle, hoping the man would follow his gaze and find what he did. She was normal. Her heart rate was a bit elevated, perhaps, but otherwise, she was calm. She was stable. Wasn't that what Whale had said the goal was?

Schaffer paused. He looked between him and Belle and then nodded. "Just this once," he muttered. And then he left, taking the gathering nurses with him.

He eased, the tension had gone out the door with Schaffer, but his enlightenment hadn't. And just as he'd turned away initially, now he turned back to see the people out the window, the ones that she wanted to be left alone by. Privacy. He could give her privacy. With a yank of the curtain by the window, he covered the faces. The curtain was thin. If they concentrated, he was sure it wouldn't be difficult to see them on the other side but it was still better than it had been. And better yet would be…

He moved toward her again, but she shrank from him. "I'll scream again!" she warned.

"I'm not-!" He took a breath as his body shook with impatience. And then another breath for good measure. Calm and relaxed…that was the key. "I'm not going to hurt you."

To his shock and surprise, her tension fled. Her irritation was still there but diminished somehow, dulled by the curiosity and questions he saw on her face.

"What is it you want, Mr. Gold? Why are you here?" she asked. It wasn't what she wanted to know, at least not all of what she wanted to know. She had more questions, and he could see it plain as day. She had questions and she wanted answers. He wanted her to ask those questions. He wanted desperately for her to ask them so he could answer them. But if they started into that and things went wrong, or if things went right, he didn't know how he'd ever make it to Emma's in the next thirty minutes. She needed calm and she needed privacy and she needed time. Those he could give her.

"I'm going out of town for a while," he repeated, trying to back to what he'd initially been trying to tell her before things had gone so badly. "You'll be safe here, but should you need anything, I want you to call me," he said calmly, motioning to the phone she still clutched to her chest. "But first…I'm going to make arrangements to move you to a private room."

That move shocked her. Her jaw dropped open at his proclamation in what he interpreted as shock. She swallowed and looked to the place the glass wall was, looking excited and grateful, but she didn't say anything. He took that as good news. She was speechless. Grateful. Perhaps that was the best outcome of this, the best note to end on and leave her with. Who would have thought?

"I will see you when I return," he stated clearly, making sure she knew this encounter wasn't goodbye, simply a respectful compliance of her request to be left alone. "Please call if you need anything."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Belle #Lacey #Baelfire #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 4 years ago

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EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 17 - WITH YOU, I AM BORN AGAIN.

Good evening all. I am re-posting the last two chapters of E-to-B so you can either catch up if you didn’t get a chance to read it or it is new to you. I will post Chapter 18 tomorrow night. The newest chapter will be posted most likely this Thursday. At the very latest Friday. Thank you for your patience in waiting for each chapter.

AND HAPPY WORLD OUTLANDER DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is a very, very long chapter. in fact it comes in at over 9300 words. I had considered breaking it up, but in the end, I felt it would lose some of the continuity if I did.

Also, when you think about this chapter this is a “making up” chapter. So at the end of the chapter, there is an NSFW scene. Please take this as an advisement if this is not your thing.

For the sake of the story, J&C are in business class on the plane. BUT, in order to make certain things happen, we must pretend that that darned console is not there.

Again the title of the chapter relates to a Motown song. The song to me represents coming together. There is a link at the end and I wound hope that you will listen to it. To me, it just says Jamie and Claire. I thought it very apropos considering what they went through in Boston and having almost lost each other. That is the reason for the choice of title and song. I hope it makes sense to you like it does to me. There are still some unresolved feelings, but we will get to that a little later.

As always I am deeply indebted to @scubalass who keeps me honest with the story, finds my mistakes, and keeps me on the straight and narrow. Thank you, thank you, thank you.🧡🧡🧡🧡

I am always open to questions about this chapter or any other chapter. Any thoughts comments or suggestions are always welcome.

Thanks for reading my ramble. So without further delay, I give you the newest chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. Here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 17

With You, I Am Born Again

The slumbering beast droned awake. The engines hummed as the jet slowly taxied into position for takeoff. Having received clearance from the tower, th e Captain released the deceptive power held in check. Roaring to life, the air shook around its massive body. Gathering speed, the lumbering giant began its climb toward its skyward goal. Thundering it thrust forward shearing the air mass surrounding it. The flaps moved into place and the brakes groaned as the landing gear retracted with a loud thud. Continuing its ascent, the silver leviathan increased its speed causing air molecules to strike the fuselage mercilessly. It finally reached cruising altitude leveling off. And it became blessedly quiet. Claire Beauchamp raised her head up from its hiding place within the crook of Jamie Fraser’s neck. She looked like a snail peeking out of its shell after a rainstorm. “‘Tis alright lass. We’re in the air. ‘Tis safe tae come out now,” he coaxed her. “Easy for you to say, Fraser. You’ve never been in a plane crash.” Childhood memories of the plane crash that took the lives of her parents still haunt her. Claire survived the accident because her mother sacrificed herself using her body to shield her precious daughter from injury.

“Aye, yer right, Sassenach. And I hope I never find out what that’s like.” Smiling at her, he placed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose.

Claire leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Another seven hours and we’ll be in Scotland. I can’t wait to go home and leave the memories of this miserable trip behind us.”

“Ye ken it was no’ a total disaster Sassenach,” he suggested trying to lighten her mood. “We made the acquaintance of Harry and Maizie and we had fun in the park, did we no?” He looked at her with a sidelong glance, “Then we umm,” he cleared his throat. The beginnings of a spectacularly vibrant red blush colored his cheeks, “then we became better acquainted, several times. I hope I was no’ a disappointment tae ye Claire,” he said shyly.

“A disappointment? Were you a disappointment? Fraser, I have never been so thoroughly shagged in my life. A disappointment, forsooth!”

The redness on Jamie’s cheek deepened. A self-satisfied smile splayed across his face.

“Ye ken we still have three days left before we have tae return tae work. Do ye have any idea of what ye would like tae do?”

She tilted her head back as she stared upward contemplating his question.

“For one thing, a nice long soaking bath,” she exhaled with pleasure. “Wearing my softest pyjamas, curling up in bed and sleeping. Oh! And order take away so I don’t have to go grocery shopping and cook. It just sounds like heaven.” She smiled contentedly as she stretched languorously.

“Ye ken Sassenach I hoped that we could spend the time together.” Sagging into his seat he radiated a sense of disappointment at the prospect of not spending the time together.

Running her fingers over his cheek, “I didn’t say I wanted to do those things alone, did I? Is your bathtub big enough for two?”

“Yes. No. Yes!”

Is a bathtub big enough for two what it would take tae get Beauchamp into his home? He wondered? I may be looking at a bathroom renovation if it doesna fit the two of us. Ah weel a small price to pay, he thought.

“‘Tis big enough for me so a wee lassie like you should have nay trouble fitting in it.” Thinking about the last time they shared a bath together made the tips of his ears turn pink. What is about Beauchamp that could reduce him to an awkward blushing schoolboy?

“I guess we will have to find out together, won’t we Fraser?” Claire licked her lips as if she was going to sample a tasty morsel. “I also seem to remember you promised to do things to me that would make me scream once we arrive home. You are a man of your word, are you not?” Claire responded in a seductive voice.

It was his turn to make her squirm. “Claire, I am a man of my word. I intend to make ye scream with the wanting. I will have ye riding waves of pleasure till ye can bear it nay more,” his smile both reckless and savage made no mistake as to what his intentions were.

Her eyes opened wide, and her jaw dropped. She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry, arid like the deserts of her youth. She knew he meant it. It almost sounded more like a threat than a promise. A threat she couldn’t wait for him to make good on.

“Ye should get some rest, Claire. Ye’ll need it,” his whispered with a provocative voice weighty with a primitive want and need.

His eyes closed as a small smile curved on his lips.

Claire reclined her seat, but could not sleep. She was restless wriggling around trying to find a comfortable position to nap in.

“Ye canna sleep, Sassenach? Yer wiggling like a wee lad with a toad in his pocket.”

“No, I can’t sleep. Just couldn’t get comfortable.”

“What is it? Is there anything on yer mind?” Jamie didn’t trust that she still wasn’t keeping secrets from him.

She looked at him shyly, “Now that you mention it, I do have one more confession to make.”

He sat up straight, bracing himself for the worst. “And that is…what?”

“I really can bake you know. I just never made a cake with a saw in it.”

Laughing, she completely reclined her seat and moments later her body relaxed into sleep.

Jamie watched her fall asleep, just as easy as you please, “Christ, Claire, ye will be the death of me yet,” he muttered shaking his head. With one hand, Jamie took a blanket twirling it open with the dexterity of a matador swirling his Capote de Brega covering his Sassenach.

The cabin was dark for some time and all around him, the sounds of passengers settling in for the night time passage had little effect on Jamie. The pull of sleep would not come. His mind jumped through the events over the past several days. With her startling revelation of abuse and rape at the hands’ of her ex-husband, he feared she might compare him to Frank. Not that he would ever hurt her. God, no. But there was something about Beauchamp that drove him to extremes of emotion. He wanted to protect her like a wee kitten that he could keep safe in his shirt and cradle tenderly. And then. And then there were times he wanted to take her, spread her thighs wide and plow into her like a crazed rutting bull. That’s what worried him. What if he could not be gentle? Would he frighten her? He did not want to be compared to him. Over and over again, he told himself his fears were baseless, senseless. After all, they had been intimate several times without the slightest hint or suggestion that she was afraid of him. He would need to find a way to reassure her. And perhaps, himself. Coming to a decision, he closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

Several hours later, Jamie woke only to find Claire awake as well. She was reading a book on her tablet, one of those bodice-rippers that she was so fond of.

Claire turned her head toward Jamie’s movement. “Can’t sleep?” she inquired.

“Nah. Uncomfortable. I see ye canna either.”

“No, I usually don’t sleep well, if at all, on planes,” she shrugged as this was an accepted fact of life.

They sat quietly for a while until Jamie broke the silence. “Would ye like tae hear a story, Sassenach?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Weel, did I ever tell ye the story of Mary McNab?”

“No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Then, I shall,” he smiled brightly. “Mary McNab lived with her husband and son in a small croft on the Lallybroch lands. Her husband Ronald worked with my Da on the farm. Now Ronald was a very good worker. He had one flaw. He turned mean when he drank. Whenever he got paid or came into some extra money, he would make his way to a local pub. After staggering home, he would take out his frustration and anger on his wife and his poor wee laddie. If his son made too much noise while playing or his supper was not to his liking, they suffered for it.

One hot summer day Jenny and some of her friends made plans to go swimming at the loch. As they approached it, Jenny spotted wee Rabbie McNab with his fishing pole sitting shirtless on a log, hook dangling in the water. On hearing the laughter of the approaching girls, he jumped up tae get his shirt that hung over a tree branch but dinna get himself covered before the girls saw him. The lad was covered in bruises in various colors, purple, yellow, and brown.

Jenny reached him and spun him around to face her while he struggled into his shirt.

“Rabbie, who did this tae ye?” Jenny demanded her face white with shock and anger.

“No one. I…I fell down the stairs,” the scared lad told her. He knew what would happen if he told.

“I dinna think sae. I ask ye again, Rabbie McNab, who did this tae ye?” Jenny had heard rumors about his father’s drunkenness and the abuse he heaped on his family.

The boy went silent. His head hanging down low.

“Sae that’s how ‘tis? Come on then,” Jenny grabbed him by the hand pulling and dragging the boy along with her.

“Miss, where are we goin’?”

“Tae see my Da. He’ll get tae the bottom of this.”

“No, Miss, no! Ye canna! Please!” The bairn clearly panicked at this possibility.

“Why no’, Rabbie?”

“Because if my Da finds out…” His free hand went tae his mouth as he realized what he had said.

“Mmphm. Rabbie dinna be afraid my Da willna let nay harm come tae ye.”

Da and I were mending the sheep’s pen, again. It seemed that Huey, the fifth in his line, managed to create a hole large enough allowing him and his harem to escape.

Holding Rabbie’s hand so he would not run off, Jenny explained to her Da what prompted her concern for the wee lad showing him the bruises on Rabbie’s back.

Rabbie finally and tearfully told the truth.

You could see how angry my Da became as he listened tae the story. His eyebrows drew in and his lips formed a tight line.

“Alright, Master Rabbie get ye inside. Tell Mrs. Crook tae feed ye up, aye? I need tae speak with my daughter and son.”

Rabbie hesitated.

“Get ye gone, lad. Miss Jenny will come tae keep ye company directly.”

The boy took halting steps toward the door, fear and worry emanated from his small form.

“Oh, and Rabbie, dinna be afraid for yerself or yer Mam, aye? Nay harm shall come tae either of ye.”

The boy nodded his head. A glimmer of hope and trust brightened the sad hazel eyes.

I looked at my Da wondering what he would do. How do you interfere in another man’s family? But, then this was no ordinary problem. Wife beating. Child beating. This was different.

“What are ye going tae do Da?”

Da paced back and forth, running his hands through his thick black hair contemplating the question. “I dinna ken laddie, but by Christ, I will do something. I canna sit by and let the pur lad and his mam be beaten every time the man is gone with drink. Let’s go talk with Mistress McNab,”

So I went with my Da tae the McNab croft. Mrs. McNab, of course, denied everything saying her bruises were the result of accidental injuries. She claimed to be a clumsy person, always tripping and falling. She said her laddie took after her, bumping into things, falling, tripping.

Da took her by the hand leading her to a chair to sit. “Mary, ye ken that I know. I have seen Ron at the pub o’er taken with drink. I’ve seen him get into fights.” Brian’s hazel eyes went soft with compassion. “I will see ye and yer lad safe. I can give you the protection of my home and my family’s good name. But, Mary ye must tell me true. Is he hurting ye and yer son?”

Mary McNab searched the depths of Brian Fraser’s warm hazel eyes finding the kindness in his soul. She opened up in a great flood of emotions telling us everything.

Listening intently, Da drummed his fingers on the table considering what she had tae say. He came tae a decision as Mrs. McNab finished her story.

“Mary pack what ye think ye and yer son will need. Ye will come tae stay at Lallybroch until we straighten this out. I will call my lawyer tae see what can be done legally tae protect ye. Then you can decide what you wish tae do. Jamie, go help Mrs. McNab.”

So Mary McNab came home with us. Da called Ned Gowan our lawyer and Mary decided it was in her and her son’s best interest tae get a divorce, which she did. Da hired her tae help Mrs. Crook with the running of the house.

“Jamie, what about her husband? Didn’t he create a fuss? I can’t believe that he agreed to a divorce so easily.”

“He dinna. Ron marched up tae our house and began tae bang on the door calling out my Da. He told my Da that he had no right tae interfere with another man’s family. And as head of his household, he would do as he saw fit.”

“So, my Da asked him where he lived.”

“Have ye gone daft man? Ye ken fine well I live here at Lallybroch.”

“So ye admit ye live on Lallybroch land, do ye? Which is my land, of which I am the Laird? So as the Laird ‘tis my duty tae see tae the welfare of all who live on it. I am responsible for the welfare of every soul here including yer family. So, I say tae ye now Ronald McNab get yer things and get ye gone from my property. Yer services are no longer required.”

With that my Da turned around and went into the house, leaving Ronnie standing there agog.

“Your father used his authority as the Laird to keep her safe and make her husband leave the property, then. I thought you told me that the title of Laird was only honorary.”

“That’s right ‘tis. But in the Highlands memories are long and traditions die slowly ye ken?”

“I’m glad everything worked out for Mary and her son, but why did you tell me this story?”

He took her very small hand in his large warm one, holding it tenderly.

“My Dad asked me if I knew why he brought me along with him. I foolishly told him because he needed another man along with him, to protect his right.” Jamie smiled remembering his youthful faux pas. “My Da looked at me with a benevolent smile and I could see him thinking. I think that day my Da realized that I was becoming a man and no’ just the wee red-heided bairn that chased after him.”

“Aye, Jamie lad I did need a man with me,” Brian Fraser remarked solemnly giving his beloved son his due. “And since ye are near becoming a man grown there are some lessons ye need tae learn that will govern yer behavior yer whole life.”

“Sassenach, ye should have seen me! I puffed myself up like a proud peacock ready tae receive the sage words of wisdom that my Da would impart tae me. I think my Da almost damn near collapsed trying no’ tae laugh at me.” Jamie shook his head recalling his younger self.

Looking at Jamie, Claire could see the love and respect he had for his father. Something she had always wished she had known with her father.

“Da said he took me along with him tae see Mrs. McNab because someday I would hold the title of Laird. As such it was necessary for me to become a fear an urram. Part of being a duine urramach was the need tae have respect for the land and the beasts in my care. And men of honor have a call tae duty toward the people in his care and those he would meet in life. Most of all, a true man had tae respect women and hold them in high esteem. For women are our strength, our hearts, and the hope for the future. Above all else, a true man respects and cares for those he loves. As they are the reason men rise in the dark of the morning and return home with the setting of the sun laboring so that they can be safe and secure. My Da had a wistful look on his face, staring at something only he could see. He looked at me then told me something I dinna understand at the time, but I do now.”

“Mo mac,” Brian Fraser said, “one day ye will find a lady who will be yer anchor in life. Ye will tether yerself tae her for she will be yer safe harbor. She will stand by yer side through the good and the lean. Yer bairns will be sheltered in her body then brought forth in great pain which she will willingly suffer. Her heart and body will comfort ye when ye are sore with fatigue and worry. She will take ye tae her and ye will find peace. She will be yer home. When ye find her ye must treasure her, Jamie, for she is a rare jewel. Dinna abuse her ever.”

Jamie grew quiet recalling the day the Fraser men discussed what would become the guiding principles in his life.

“I asked my Da if this was how it was between him and my Mam.”

“Da gazed out over the land he loved, the land my Mam loved. When he turned tae look at me, his eyes gleamed full of emotion, love, and joy for his land, his bairns, and his wife.”

“Aye Jaime ‘tis. ‘Tis.”

His hand moved to cup her face. “Ye mo chridhe are the love of my heart and my soul. I tell ye this as I dinna want ye ever tae be scairt of me. I would never hurt ye, or…” he choked on the words, “force ye. I couldna bear it if ye were afraid of me,” he said with a hitch in his voice.“

Jamie turned in his seat allowing him to drop his forehead to Claire’s touching, breathing in their shared space.

“I never thought you would, Jamie.” Her hand reached to cup his cheek.

They shared the silence and stillness of their own thoughts as the jet whisked them homeward.

*****************

Traffic back into Edinburgh was light at that hour of the morning. The Uber silently pulled up to the curb in front of Jamie’s flat. Gallantly, Jamie opened the door for Claire offering her his hand for her to step out of the car. Fishing around in his pocket he found his keys. Handing them to Claire, he told her to go inside and get comfortable. He would be along with the luggage shortly. The driver opened the boot and placed the luggage on the pavement.

“Oi mate, what does yer wife have in the bag, eh? Rocks?”

“My wife, he thinks she’s my wife. Do we look like a couple already?” The thought pleased him that they did and a wide grin spread across his face. “One day she will be my wife. One day she will wear my ring.”

Jamie cleared his throat, “She likes to be prepared.”

“Fer what? An apocalypse? Christ man feels like she packed the entire flat in here!”

Jamie just shrugged giving the man a generous tip for his help.

“She is a bonny lass, though. Weel, luck tae ye man,” and sped off to his next call.

He managed to get all the baggage into the foyer and kicked the door closed.

There she was walking around his sitting room picking things up and putting them down. Seeing her there made his heart speed up. She looked so natural there like she belonged there, with him.

Claire turned around after hearing the door slam shut. She flushed worried that he might think she was snooping about. Which she was.

“Jamie, I hope you don’t mind my looking around. You have a lovely home.”

“Thank ye. ‘Tis no much, but ‘tis comfortable.”

His flat reflected him, masculine and functional. Although the room was devoid of a feminine touch it was tastefully decorated. The room was spacious with a large butter-soft gray leather settee, a bold geometric white and black patterned carpet over the hardwood floor, several comfortable armchairs, and a bookcase filled with assorted books dominated the room. An antique wooden trunk place in front of the sette served as a coffee table. On a far wall, a fireplace with a large flat-screen television above it made quite the statement. Most likely for Jamie to watch his beloved rugby games. Another wall displayed various photographs and portraits of his family as well as small paintings of what looked like pastoral scenes. Here and there there were small splashes of color to break up the greys, blacks, and whites of the room. A tartan gracefully draped over the settee.

“Yer welcome to look about, Sassenach. ‘Tis no much tae see. Just a bachelor’s home. I’ll be putting the luggage in the bedroom.” He looked at her to see if she reacted to his statement. Claire only nodded then asked if she could help.

“Nah, I’ll manage. Why don’t ye make us some tea? Are ye hungry? I could make us something to eat if ye like.”

“Hmm, I could stand to eat a bit. I’ll start on making the food while you take care of the bags.”

“Ye can cook!? I dinna think ye had the opportunity to learn.”

“Oh, I can. I just don’t cook much since it’s only just for me.”

Jamie took their bags into his bedroom. A king-size bed big enough to accommodate his large frame stood as the centerpiece of the room. The palette of the room was neutral colors soft beige, cream, and taupe. The room spoke of a man for whom the room became a respite from the stress of his professional life. The en-suite could only be described as luxurious. One wall is covered in multicolor gray stone tiles, the others were painted white, a black marble countertop with a clear glass bowl basin sink completed the esthetic. He looked at the tub and felt delighted that it would accommodate the two of them. Should he get some scented candles, he wondered? What about some bubbly stuff that smells good? Is that what lasses liked? He thought of asking his sister but damn the wee besom. She would be all into his business and he would have no peace. He would need to figure it out himself. Moving back to the bedroom, Jamie opened his chest of drawers. Would she want to leave some of her things here, he wondered? Ought he to make room for her? He worried that he was pushing things too fast. Better safe than sorry he reasoned. He picked up a pile of old workout clothes from a drawer and stuffed them into the back of a closet. He should have gotten rid of those clothes a long time ago. Having Claire in his life will mean changes, good changes. One that he wanted to make permanent.

He lifted his head and smelled an enticing aroma. She can cook. In the kitchen, he found her busy at work. She listened to some jazzy music as she cooked and was shaking that glorious arse of hers in time to the beat. He didn’t know which he was more hungry for the food or her.

“Something smells good Sassenach. What are ye making?”

Claire turned to face him beaming with happiness and pride. She had a towel draped over one shoulder and her hand one hip.

“Well, Fraser you didn’t have much in the way of food in the refrigerator so we’ll have to make do with this. It’s just a small snack, really. Just about two bites each.” The table was set and the food plated with the panache of a food stylist. There were crispy baguette slices toasted to perfection and fragrant with olive oil. She placed dollops of goat cheese on the bread and covered it with beautifully grilled peach slices. A chiffonade of sauteed basil garnishes the top. And to pull the flavors together a drizzle of honey making it sparkle. Mugs of earthy coffee sent tendrils of fragrant steam into the surrounding dining area whetting their appetite.

Jamie stood there with his mouth open in disbelief.

“Sassenach, you did this? By yerself?” His mouth hung open in surprise. He only had expected tea and buttered toast, but this was an amazing treat. It looked good enough to have been plated for a fine restaurant.

Claire squinted her eyes at him, her foot tapping showing her annoyance at the implication.

“I told you I can cook and quite well for that matter. I just don’t. Now, why don’t you sit down and put some food into that gaping hole of your mouth before you begin to catch flies with it.”

He quickly sat rather than catch the wrong end of her pique. “I dinna mean tae offend ye, Sassenach. I just dinna think ye had much time tae learn with all the traveling ye did with yer Uncle ‘tis all.” Jamie decided the safest thing to do would be to just eat and not say anything else that could get him into trouble.

Claire somewhat mollified by his explanation simply nodded. “Uncle Lamb made sure I became exposed to what he called ‘womanly arts’. So I learned to cook, keep house, manage budgets amongst other things women should know,” she said with a devilish grin on her face. “It has come in handy.”

“I must thank ye, mo leannan. ‘Twas delicious. And I would like tae repay ye by being in charge of dinner. Would ye mind going shopping with me to fill up my empty refrigerator?”

They meandered along the High Street keeping well away from places where friends could easily spot them. Neither wanted to be found by colleagues or acquaintances just yet. At least not until tomorrow. Holding hands, fingers linked together, they peered into store windows, carried on conversations about things of no great consequence. With the afternoon chill descending on them Jamie and Claire stopped for tea at his favorite tea room. The tearoom evoked the feeling of being in a grannie’s sitting room. It was a bit cluttered with an assortment of antique nick-nacks on display, lace tablecloths covering the tables, and a small bouquet of flowers on the table. In truth, it was cozy and utterly charming. The tea warm and fragrant was served in delicate rose-patterned china cups and a variety of sweets and pastries graced the table. They found a table by the window where they could observe the passers-by. Heads bent in whispered conversation, soft giggles uttered, they sipped and nibbled as hands connected unable to bear lack of contact.

The afternoon sky began to lower threatening a change in the weather. Jamie brought Claire’s hand to his lips leaving a tender kiss on her palm. “We need to leave Sassenach before we get caught in the snow.

Claire hummed in agreement. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s go buy something for dinner and go home.”

He was startled by her answer. Was she considering his place as her home already? He rather hoped that she would.

They went to the nearest market to stock up for a while. Claire regaled Jamie about the different cuisines she tried while traveling with Lamb.

“Did you know that guinea pig is considered a delicacy in parts of South America? I never tried it myself but Lamb did. He had to or risk offending the Headman of the village.”

He marveled at the things she told him. Her life experiences were so different from his own.

“Ye mean the wee animals that live in cages and run on a wheel?” He grimaced at the thought.

“That’s a hamster. Guinea pigs shouldn’t use a wheel. Bad for the back, you know.”

He made what Claire referred to as a Scottish noise in the back of his throat. “I dinna ken ye knew sae much about the wee beasties.”

“As a child, I was like a sponge sucking up knowledge from my experiences with Lamb. It was an unorthodox lifestyle for a child but I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.”

He watched her as she stood amongst the display of produce, her index finger tapping her lower lip as she concentrated on what to choose. She examined everything for freshness, ripeness, color, texture before choosing. He was enchanted by her. She truly was a Sassenach, an Outlander. Claire did not belong to England nor Scotland nor America nor anywhere in particular. Having had such a unique upbringing, she was a woman belonging to the world. She belonged to nothing and yet to everything. It was this otherness about her that intrigued him, made him desperately want her to belong only to him.

Making short work of gathering their staples and perishables, they made it back to Jamie’s flat before the storm broke. The wind whipped up around them blowing Claire’s hair into wild disarray. Laughing they stumbled through the door almost collapsing on each other. The door slammed shut from the force of the wind.

They placed their bundles on the kitchen island unpacking their delectables. Jamie gave Claire a sidelong look. Clearing his throat and keeping his eyes averted he said in a nonchalant voice, “Sassenach I, er, um, I made some room for ye this morning in the bathroom for yer personal things. I, ah, also made room for ye in the chest of drawers and in the closet should ye wish tae put your things in there. Maybe ye might want tae leave some of yer things here. But only if ye wish tae.” The tips of his ears turned pink, he worried that this might be too fast, too soon to suggest such a thing.

Claire looked up at him her bottom lip quivering. “You did that for me? I…” She placed both her hands on his cheeks bringing him closer to her. She leaned in kissing him soundly on the lips. Turning away quickly from him before the tears could escape the dam, she ran toward the bedroom to see what he had done for her.

Jamie smiled contentedly as he watched her scurry away. While she was occupied with unpacking her things, Jamie made a phone call he hoped would also please her. He continued to put away their purchases and set the table for their dinner. Hopefully, Aldo would not disappoint.

Claire busied herself with putting away some of her things. Jamie making room for her spoke volumes to her. He was trying to make her comfortable in his home. He wanted her there. As she placed her hairbrush, shampoo, and other toiletries in the en-suite she developed a warm feeling of belonging that she had never before experienced, not even in her own home with Frank. She wondered if this is what home felt like.

Having completed arranging her things, Claire came out to find the dining area glowing with the soft light from dinner candles, the table set, and dinner served. Jamie escorted her to the table, giving her a slight bow, “My lady,” seating her then taking his place opposite her.

“How did you, when did you…”

“I did promise you dinner. I dinna say I would make it myself,” as he waved his injured hand about. “I have a friend Aldo who owns an Italian restaurant close by. He sometimes sends dinner if I have a long day.”

“This is excellent, Jamie. How do you know Aldo?”

“He is a footie mate and a damn good goalie too.”

After finishing dinner and wine, Claire offered to clean up. “You went through all this trouble it’s the least I can do,” she smirked.

“Nay, Sassenach. ‘‘Twas my treat. Why dinna you get comfortable? It’s been a long couple of days.”

Standing she stretched until she heard little popping sounds between her vertebrae, “Perhaps you’re right. I think a shower is in order. Will you be coming soon?”

“Aye, I will. Just as soon as I put the dishes in the dishwasher and the leftovers away.”

Claire undressed taking her robe with her into the bathroom. She decided to ask Jaime for his tee-shirt again to wear to sleep. Having something of his next to her skin was a balm to her soul. She shampooed her hair then washed with her favorite body wash. Looking in the mirror she thought her hair resembled a wet poodle. With a towel wrapped around her head, she walked into the bedroom to find Jamie shirtless and shoeless only his jeans remained.

He smiled broadly at her, “A quick shower, then tae bed.” The heat of the water felt comforting. But he had no time to linger as his thoughts gravitated toward his lass. He wanted to, well he knew what he wanted to do, but would she? They were both jet-lagged, but just maybe.” He dried off and wrapped a low hanging towel about his hips. Opening the bathroom door, he stood there watching her as she tried to brush out several recalcitrant knots out of her curly hair. He could hear her mutterings and swearing. “Bloody-minded hair.” A particular mutinous snag gave rise to a blasphemous “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

“Here Sassenach, let me,” Jamie coaxed the brush from her hand. “When I was a young lad, I would brush my Mam’s hair for her when she felt troubled. She said it helped her tae relax.”

He sectioned her hair gently then began brushing it, working the tangles out. He worked slowly, carefully working each snarl out all while whispering softly in Gaidhlig.

There was something supremely peaceful in Jamie’s touch. Claire slipped into an almost hypnotic state. She relaxed under his skilled hand and the susurrous of the brush skimming through her hair. Her eyes closed enjoying his surgeon-like expertise. Methodical, proficient, and meticulous. Just like he approached everything. No wonder his mother liked him to brush her hair.

He was totally focused on the task at hand making the unruly mass of curls into soft waves and tender ringlets. One would have thought that her hair would feel coarse and rough. But no, her hair was soft and lush. He brought a lock of her hair to his nose. It smelled of herbs and flowers soft and fragrant. It smelled of her. Jamie paid great attention to the colors of her tresses. Predominantly it was brunette with wisps of caramel, cinnamon, and auburn scattered throughout. Jamie let the strands slip over his fingers like silken threads to once again cascade over her shoulders. “Mo nighean donn,” he whispered.

Claire turned her head to him. “You have called me that before but I never asked what it means.”

He smiled, “It means my brown-haired lass.”

“I have always thought brown to be a rather dull color.”

Jamie placed an errant curl behind her ear, “No, no’ dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, where it ruffles over the stones. Dark in the wavy spots with bits of silver and auburn where the sun catches it.”

He put the brush down on the bedside table, turned to face her. He lifted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. Her eyes were pools of liquid honey warm and sweet.

Claire fell into the depth of his eyes, so impossibly blue that it seemed that part of the sky fell into them.

“Jamie…”

“Dance with me, Claire.”

She looked at him in surprise and question.

“You mean here, now, like this?” Her eyes took in their mutual state of undress.

“Besides, there is no music and truthfully I can’t dance.

“‘Tis nay bother. Music ye shall have. I’ll tell ye a secret, I canna dance too. I’m tae big and clumsy. Dinna be afraid ‘tis no’ but a bit of swaying. I think we can manage that without damaging each other.” Jamie extended his hand for her to take with a smile so brilliant it rivaled the summer sun.

She knew she should have resisted and said no. But Claire found herself powerless, mesmerized by him. She reached out her hands clasping theirs together. He pulled her toward him. Their bodies touching.

“First, ye need to take this off.” He began tugging at the ties of her robe. “I need tae feel ye next tae me.”

Her hands entwined with his as they worked to release the tie allowing the satiny fabric to slip off her body. Standing there naked she felt just a bit foolish.

“Now your turn.”

Giving the towel a quick tug, it fell away landing on the floor. He kicked the towel and robe out of the way, widening their area to move.

They were bare to each other. His arousal full and complete.

Once again he drew her into him, his large hands settling on her hips, while Claire’s hands rested around his neck.

“Alexa,” Jamie called out, “Play With You I’m Born Again on repeat.”

The room filled with sultry vocals and seductive notes from the piano.

Jamie pulled her deeper into his embrace feeling the fullness of her breasts against him, her nipples hardening from contact with his chest. His rigid cock pressed firmly upon her belly.

Their bodies moved in sync to the music swaying together like flowers in the wind. His sound hand floated over her back holding her close, reducing whatever little space still separated them.

Tucking her head neatly under his chin, Claire’s eyes drifted shut, sighing in contentment. He was warm and had a masculine smell rather spicy she thought. Pepper, ginger, lemon, and coriander. Overlaying that was his own unique scent which could not be masked. She nuzzled into his chest breathing him in making small wuffling sounds.

“Are ye smelling me, Sassenach?”

She looked up at him with a dreamy look on her face, “Why yes. Yes, I am,” and returned to resting her head against him.

Jamie gave a soft chuckle and placed his head atop hers.

He crooned softly into her hair,

Come bring me yer softness

Comfort me through all this madness

Woman, don’t ye know with ye I’m born again?

Looking up into the face of her love, Claire sang softly back,

Come give me your sweetness

Now there’s you, there is no weakness

Lying safe within your arms, I’m born again.

They joined together in a duet singing softly of their love for each other,

I was half not whole, in step with none

Reaching through the world, in need of one.

Come show me your kindness

In your arms I know I’ll find this.

Lying safe within your arms, I’m born again.

Jamie bent down kissing Claire tenderly on her lips,

Woman don’t ye know with ye I’m born again

A single tear ran down her face,

Lying safe within your arms I’m born again.

Jamie bade Alexa stop the music. They came to a standstill, eyes locked on each other.

“I am naught but a poor simple man. I dinna have the words of a poet. Nor can I write ye a love song. This I tell ye true mo ghràdh, I love ye. I love ye more than I have ever loved nay will ever love someone. Ye have captured my heart.” He began to tremble in her arms and stumbled over his words. “I dinna ken what a soul is other than what the priests told us in kirk. But, I kent mine was only half until I found you. When I met ye, I felt mine call out to yers for I kent we share but one soul and one heart my Sassenach. Neither of us is complete without the other.”

Claire looked up into his face seeing the truth of his words.

“I feel the same way, Jamie. I do love you so.”

A tidal wave of lust coursed through him. His pupils were blown wide open turning the placid blue eyes dark and dangerous. He dropped his face toward hers, their lips just a whisper away. Jamie kissed her with a fierceness, no perhaps it was with desperation trying to convey his feelings with actions instead of his paltry words.

Claire felt the heat rising up in her belly spreading through her like the warmth from a dram of good whisky. She parted her lips in invitation. His tongue ran over her lips then invading her mouth tasting its deep recesses as they joined in mutual caresses.

Jamie broke the kiss. His breathing became heavy with want. “I need ye lass. I canna say it plainer than that.”

Claire’s eyes of toffee gazed up at him begging him to touch her everywhere. “Then take me, now.”

“I dinna ken if I can be gentle.”

“Then don’t.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Come lass let me love ye. ‘Tis been too long since I last held ye in my arms.” He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, gently placing her down. Her hair spread over the pillow like a great nimbus cloud of light and dark. She opened herself to him with her arms raised up in supplication. She never looked lovelier than she did when flushed with desire. “Ye are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“As you say so.”

“Do ye doubt me?”

“No, what I mean is I am beautiful because you say it is so.”

“Aye, ‘tis so.”

He came to her like a starving man hungrily seizing her mouth. It would be her body and soul that would sustain him, nourish him, make him whole again. He had feared he had lost her in Boston because of his own negligence. And yet she forgave him, still wanted him. He needed to claim her as his.

“Mine,” he growled into her mouth. “Mine now and forever.”

“Yours, only you,” she sighed.

His kisses were hard, brutal leaving her lips swollen from the attention. She kissed him back with equal fervor pulling at his bottom lip biting down on it. Her own need to join with him raged through her like wildfire. She had almost lost him through her foolish fears, her foolish secrets.

Jamie began to rain kisses down the column of her neck. Kissing, nipping at the tender skin marking her as his.

“Jamie!” she cried as she raked her nails down his back raising red welts over the old scar tissue. He felt the sting of the scratches but couldn’t have cared less.

He moved down her body placing fevered kisses as he moved. Reaching her breasts, he took a delicate nipple in his mouth tongue circling it raising it to a hardened nub. He suckled it while kneading the other. Turning his attention to its fellow, it received the same treatment.

Claire arched her back and held his head in place to her breast. “Harder,” she ordered. With a ferocity, he did not know he possessed he sucked harder and bit down on her nipple. She cried out in pleasure and pain.

“Christ, I hurt ye. I’m sorry, Claire,” he worried.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Don’t stop, please.”

“Yer sure, Claire?”

Yes, I’m sure, damn it. Please, Jamie. Don’t stop.”

He gently kissed each breast in apology before taking his leave. Journeying down her he nipped at the delicate skin placing soothing kisses at each bruise. Reaching her hip he placed tender kisses to each one.

“Jamie…please.”

“Please what, Claire?”

She huffed in frustration, “I need you, now.”

“Ye have me lass, I’m right here am I no’? Adoring ye, loving ye,” as he placed kiss after kiss along her stately legs. When he reached her feet, he massaged each foot working the tension out.

“Do ye like this a nighean?”

“Yes,” she purred deep and throaty as she arched her back in contented pleasure.

Jamie chuckled with delight, “I see. And what would ye do if I did this?”

He slid off of the bed pulling her by her ankles until her arse rested at the edge. Hitching her legs over his shoulders, he placed his face firmly between her thighs.

“Christ, mo leannan, yer so wet.

Claire moaned her head tossing from side to side writhing in anticipation.

Delicately he ran his tongue over her apex tasting her, “Yer so sweet.” He found her nub the source of all her pleasure lightly flicking his tongue over it.

Claire moaned and whimpered, thrusting her hips toward him.

“More, mo chridhe?”

“Yes, yes Jamie. I want more,” she gasped out as she ground herself against his face.

Greedily his mouth took possession of her bud, sucking, licking in long broad stripes and gentle circles driving her to the edge of madness. Carefully he began to drag his teeth over the sensitive tissue and began to hum. Relentlessly his tongue dipped and swirled tasting her heat and her honey.

The sensations electrified her senses. Her body jerking, thrashing clutching at the linens.

“Ah, Jamie, please, please,” she gasped. Her hand grabbed at his head, fingers tangled in his curls holding him captive to her need.

He knew she was nearing her climax. Slipping one finger into her sweet heat sliding in and

“Tell me, Claire, how ye feel,” he growled wickedly.

Her eyes were sealed shut and she mumbled unintelligible words as she continued to writhe on the bed.

“Open yer eyes lass look at me. Watch as I make ye come. Know who yer master is.”

His eyes were trained on her, intently watching. Adding a second finger he curved them both finding the sensitive area inside her. His tongue resumed its onslaught as he pushed her over the precipice.

Claire’s eyes opened wide, seeing but not seeing and screamed, “JAIME!” Her world narrowed until she became pure sensation, pure pleasure.

“Aye, ‘tis right lass. Scream my name so all will ken who ye belong tae. LOUDER,” he commanded.

She keened, back arched, head falling back against the bed, “Jamie, only you Jamie.” And convulsed into her orgasm.

He picked her up cradling her against his broad chest bringing back to the bed resting her head upon the pillows. He murmured soft words in Gàidhlig into the glory of her hair. “Rest a neighan. For I will need tae take ye soon. I am filled with savage lust that I canna control. I need tae feel ye around me for I mean to use ye hard. Forgive me, my Sassenach.” He spooned into her back and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. His manhood hardened with wanting resting on her thigh.

Claire smiled turning to face him as she cupped his face between her hands. Her voice hoarse and no more than a whisper, “I want to feel you too. I need to claim you as my own and hear you call my name in desire. And at the end, I want to hear you cry out as you find your pleasure knowing that it was I who took you there. She kissed him at his pulse point on the neck, then boldly bit and sucked the skin leaving a mark. “You are mine Jamie Fraser, now and forever. I have marked you for all to see.” Her eyes burned bright with an untamed yearning for this man. She dragged her lips across his face and down his neck leaving searing kisses along the path. Coming to his well-defined chest she bit hard again leaving the stamp of her lust on him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God no.”

Her tongue swept over his areola and his delicate pink nipple causing it to harden at her bidding. Again she sank her teeth into his flesh causing him to gasp from her assault on him.

“Am I too rough on you,” she whispered sensually in his ear while she rubbed her breasts across his chest making her buds become firm ready for him to suck.

“Yer a she-devil come to torture me,” he moaned raising his hand trying to grasp at her breasts.

Claire threw her head back laughing. “Aye, I am. A succubus surely and I will lead us to the fiery pits of hell where we will be consumed by our lust for each other.”

She continued to scatter kisses and bites as she moved down his magnificent body. She sucked the skin over his hip, then dragged her nails through his fiery thatch the last barrier before his cock.

Jamie jolted at the sensation. “Sassenach, please. I canna bear it nay longer.”

“Please, wot?” Claire asked innocently.

“Claire, ye ken what I want and need. Please, Claire.”

“Are you talking about this? She leaned over and took him in her mouth. She unfurled her tongue over his length. She took in his whole length working her tongue over the silkiness of his cock. Using her brazen wee hand she slid it up and down his length twisting and turning all while she worked the head with her mouth and tongue diving him to near completion.

“Lass, I’ll no last if ye keeping doing that.”

Claire ceasing her assault on his flesh giving him a sultry smile, “We can’t have that now can we.”

She sat back on her heels taking in the landscape of his body. He was beautifully formed with slanted eyes, long straight nose, high broad cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips. The terrain of his body was formed by mountains of hard muscle and bone lying above the flat plains of his abdominal muscles. The man was a work of art, one of God’s finest creations.

Claire was broken out of her reverie as she became cognizant that Jamie was speaking to her. Actually, he was threatening her.

“By all that is holy, Sassenach, ye shall pay for this, severely.”

She laughed, “I believe that I have already, my lad. You had your way with me now it’s my turn.”

She lifted her leg to straddle him, brushing her wet sex over his engorged erection. “Or perhaps this is more to your liking, hmm? Which mouth do you want my lad?”

Shuddering from the sensation, he tried to will himself into control.

“Claire…” He warned.

She leaned over, drawing herself at length atop him grinding her hips against his. “Yes, Jamie?” She asked innocently.

“Ye are a verra verra wicked woman. And ye deserve tae be punished.”

Slowly his hand found its way down her back grabbing her magnificent arse fondling it pressing her close to him.

“Oh, and just how do you plan to do that?”

His hands clutched her hips moving them in lewd movements creating friction between them.

Raising up his hand Jamie gave Claire a slight slap on her buttock causing more of a sting than pain.

She wiggled her luscious bum in delight and giggled. “Is that my punishment, Fraser? I rather liked it,” she smirked.

“Then perhaps ye will like this.” Jamie seized Claire’s hands holding them above her head and flipped them over. Quirking his eyebrow, he pressed his arousal against her. “Ye like this Sassenach?”

She opened her legs wider then flexed her hips hard against him.

“Do. It. Now,” she demanded. Her voice rough and harsh.

Jamie lined himself up at her wet entrance and slowly pushed in perhaps no more than a quarter-inch and quickly withdrew. Claire gasped at the sudden loss of him.

“Exactly what game are you playing at Fraser?” She huffed in frustration. Wiggling under him Claire tried to re-establish physical contact, needing the feel of him. But he kept his distance from her.

“Ye kent I told ye that ye needed tae be punished, did I no’? The best way is tae deprive ye of what ye want. But if ye yield tae me, ye can have it. What say ye?” He replied smugly. He inched closer, letting her feel him again at her entrance.

“You’re on some fucking power trip, Jamie,” she huffed. Her efforts to join with him were fruitless as he kept her pinned to the mattress with his body.

“Aye, I am. Ye remember I told ye I would make ye scream, did I no’? And I did. Now ye tortured me to near insanity and wouldna come to me. That was no’ nice of ye, Claire. So now Dr. Beauchamp ye get a wee taste of yer own medicine. Ye dinna like it do ye?”

“No.”

“Resign yerself tae me then, beg me, and ye shall have what ye want.” Thrusting his hips forward he was mere centimeters from home. He placed soft kisses on the corners of her lips, lightly running his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

Claire struggled a few times more, just for form’s sake.

She used her whisky orbs to do her pleading. “Jamie, please, I…I…need you. I want you now. I need to feel you inside of me.”

“That’s a good lass. But, remember, mo ghràdh I never said I dinna like yer teasing, ye ken.” And he drove home sheathing himself to the hilt in one swift thrust.

“YOU son of a…AHHH!”

His hips moved within her drawing comfort from her softness getting lost in her silken folds.

She felt herself stretch as he filled her and reveled in the power of him.

He put her hands on his chest, “Feel my heartbeat, Claire, it only beats for ye.”

His mouth sealed over hers, taking possession of her breath, her sighs, swallowing them making them part of his being.

Absorbed in the feel of him, Claire wrapped her legs around him pulling him deeper, deeper than either one thought was possible.

A burning tension built linking their hearts, souls, and bodies together. “Jamie,” she mumbled. “My lad, my sweet, sweet lad. How I need you. Oh god, Jamie.” Her body began to tremble and shake. “I…”

Jamie whispered softly in her ear, “Let it go, Claire surrender yourself tae me. Give me all of yourself as I give you everything I am. I can hold nothing back from ye lass.”

“Jaime. Oh god, Jamie.” Claire wrapped her arms around him succumbing to her all-consuming climax.

Jamie continued his relentless rhythm now that he had served her and began to seek his own pleasure.

Two, then three, then four thrusts, his hips moved wildly his cadence began to falter.

“Claire, sweet Jesus, Claire.” Shuddering, he bit down on her shoulder as his seed filled her.

Jamie collapsed on her then fell to the side avoiding crushing her. Pulling her to him he tucked her under his chin. Claire felt the thrum of his voice in his chest speaking Gàidhlig words of love to her. She did not understand the words but knew their meaning. Her arms surrounded his waist still not yet ready to release their connection.

“I love you, Jamie,” she whispered as she succumbed to the world of dreams.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo ghràdh.”

Lying safe within our arms, we are born again.

*********************

Capote de brega — a cape used by a matador during a bull fight.

A fear an urram - A man of honor.

Duine urramach - An honorable man

With You, I Am Born Again - sung by Billy Preston and Syreeta Wright

Songwriters - Carol Connors/David Shire/David L. Shire

Released - December 1979

Motown Records

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqTq8gckf8E

#ICYMI

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

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Take Me Back to the Start | (10/10)

Title: Take Me Back to the Start Summary: Everyone remembers their first love. Not everyone carries those feelings from childhood to senior year. Yet Brock is starting his last year of high school while still longing for the relationship he lost five years ago. Meanwhile, José is at the top of the food chain and seems to have it all together. But maybe their story isn’t over yet. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~31.4k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll) Rating: E

read on ao3 | ko-fi

Brock stared at himself in the vanity mirror. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, maybe a sudden burst of energy, of enthusiasm, something to alleviate the knot of anxiety in his stomach.

Then José walked in with timing so perfect, Brock momentarily wondered if the universe had literally answered his prayers. “You ready for this, big guy?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied, placing his hand on top of José’s for a moment, then turned to face him. “But now I’ve got my good luck charm.” His tone brightened up as his arms looped around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Who, me?” José batted his lashes innocently, then let out a laugh louder than he intended, needing to clap his hand over his mouth. “You don’t need luck, but I’m glad to give you a boost,” he told him, kissing his temple.

Brock grinned fondly. “I always need you, baby,” he cooed sweetly. “You need to go take a seat though, I’m up any minute now,” he said, sharing a quick kiss before José left to take his seat in the audience.

The performance itself was a bit of a blur for Brock. He knew he was nailing every move (or at least hoped he was), but it didn’t feel like he was on stage. It was calm, like he was alone in the studio, headphones in and the world tuned out. This was his zen, his happy place. It was one of the only things in his life that he was unequivocally confident in, for better or for worse.

And when he was done, he still had a rush of endorphins washing over him. Brock had never quite understood what people meant when they described something as ‘as good as sex,’ but he could now comfortably admit that while sex won out, this was definitely close.

He went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. That was it. It was over. Win, lose, or draw, there was nothing he could do to change the impending outcome. And waiting was the hardest part.

“All competitors please return to the stage.”

The loudspeaker announcement was repeated a couple more times as the dancers made their way back to the stage. Everyone was full of the same nerves and anticipation, but Brock could hardly focus on anything, even when awards were being given out. All he could focus on were people moving across the stage to get their awards.

“And first place overall goes to…”

Brock had already come to terms with not placing. All the confidence he’d had during his performance had inexplicably dissipated. He was practicing his ‘I’m okay, I just need to try harder next time’ speech in his mind. He could get over this, it wasn’t the end of the world, he just–

“Brock Hayhoe!”

Nothing had ever snapped him back into reality faster. He nearly tripped over himself as he walked up to get his trophy, beaming broadly. Now, he was wondering why he’d doubted himself at all. He hadn’t been delusional during his performance, it was a culmination of everything he had been working for. He deserved this, and damn it, he was going to enjoy his moment.

And when he was finally allowed offstage, Brock ran right to where his mom, coach, and José were waiting. The only thing better than having this moment was sharing it with the people he loved. “We did it!”

“You did it.” Anna smiled with pride. “You’re the one that put in all the effort and hard work. We helped along the way.”

“And I couldn’t have done it without that help,” he replied as a compromise. He was too elated to argue, and moved right on, giving them all a hug, and José a big kiss on the lips.

“Let me see this shiny prize.” José grinned, picking up the trophy. “It’s gonna fit real nice in that spot you got saved for it,” he mused. “You sure as hell earned it.”

Brock chuckled softly, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “I told you, you’re my good luck charm.”

José grinned as he pulled his jacket on and handed Brock his. “The argument’s getting pretty compelling, I’ma give you that,” he admitted, leaning into his boyfriend’s side when the taller teen wrapped his arm around him, and stayed close as they made their way into the parking lot and said their goodbyes to Anna.

------

Brock had been riding the high of winning the competition well through Thanksgiving and into early December. He was finally able to quell the harsh voices in his mind that filled him with doubt and anxiety. Every time he looked at that trophy, front and center on his shelf, he was reminded that finally, everything was paying off just as he’d hoped.

And José’s voice was louder than all of those negative ones anyway. The two of them remained nearly inseparable, both of them watching TV in Brock’s room when suddenly, Joan called them downstairs. They jumped up and raced down – she was clearly either excited or concerned based on her high-pitched tone.

“What’s going on?” Brock asked.

She handed a large envelope to him. “You have mail.”

“It’s from the Boston Conservatory,” he read, his voice suddenly hushed. “I applied for an early decision,” he explained to José. His logic had been that he would only do that for his top choice. That way, if he got in, he got the decision making out of the way early, and if he didn’t, he would have more time to work on a new plan.

“It’s big, that’s a good sign,” José offered.

“You think anything big is a good sign,” Brock retorted, making sure he whispered soft enough for his mom not to hear. With a deep breath, he opened the letter, but closed his eyes as he took the piece of paper in the front out. He kept his eyes shut for another moment before finally reading his fate. “I… I got in,” he said before it really hit. “I got in!”

“You got in!” José was much louder, hugging him tightly.

Joan put her hand over her heart as she looked on with pride. “I can’t believe you’re moving across the country, I’m so proud of you. Oh, I’ve got to go call your grandmother,” she remarked gleefully as she went into the other room.

But José’s enthusiasm started to die down. “You’re moving across the country?”

“Well, yeah, that’s where Massachusetts is,” he explained as they went back to his room and sat down on his bed.

José shook his hands out and tried to hype himself back up. This was Brock’s moment, he wasn’t going to ruin it over those details. “Cool, yeah. I’m happy for you. I knew you was gonna get into a good school.”

“José, I…”

He shook his head, already feeling guilty because Brock didn’t sound so excited anymore. “No, no, we ain’t doing this right now. We’re celebrating you. Because I’m happy for you.” His voice eased from defensive to sincere, his expression softening. “Because I love you.”

Brock’s expression relaxed into a smile. “I love you too.” He took both of José’s hands into his own. “And we’re gonna celebrate, okay? We’ll go out for dinner, see if we can convince my mom to let us have some champagne.” He started to kiss along his jawline as he spoke. “Then we’ll come back here and celebrate in our own way.”

José didn’t mean to laugh, but he thought it was cute how Brock was just trying to distract him. And he let it work, he had no reason not to. He knew they would have to sit and talk about their feelings eventually, but that could wait. Maybe if he waited long enough, Brock would forget about it entirely.

------

Brock sighed, strumming his fingers against the table and sipping his iced coffee. If there was one thing he needed, it was to talk to his friends, especially since Courtney and Steve had been on this relationship journey with him from the beginning. “I just feel bad, you know. I get how he feels, getting into this school is everything to me, but up until that, he was everything to me. I just don’t know where to go from here.”

Courtney frowned and scooted her chair closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

“Of course, that’s not even a question.”

“Good,” Steve chimed in, “because we were both ready to kick your ass all the way from here to Boston.”

Courtney nodded in agreement, but quickly went back to being concerned. “Have you guys talked about it yet?”

“Not yet,” Brock told her. “I will, I promise. We just both kind of came to the conclusion that we didn’t want to let that sour the mood. He knows I know that something wasn’t right, and that we have to work things out. But I have faith, I’m not too worried.”

His friends nodded in understanding; even if they wouldn’t outright say it, they had become invested in the final outcome as well. “When are you seeing him next?” Steve asked.

Brock glanced out the door of the Starbucks. “I’m actually going right to his place from here, wish me luck.” He hugged both his friends before he got up. “Oh, wait,” he paused, texting José, then getting back in line shortly after.

So the first thing he did when José let him inside was hand him his coffee. “See? I told you I knew what your usual was.”

José took a sip, then gave a signal of approval. “You did good, baby. You did good.” He gestured to him to follow upstairs and they went into his bedroom. He sat cross-legged on his bed and looked up at Brock expectantly. He knew what was coming, neither of them said so, but it was a gut feeling.

And Brock knew exactly what José was thinking, so he saw no need to beat around the bush. He spun the desk chair around so when he sat, they were face-to-face. And with a deep exhale, he ripped the bandage off. “I know you’re upset that I’m going so far away. Let’s talk about it.”

He didn’t think he would ever get used to how comfortable Brock was with being blunt with him. It was a relatively new development, considering how long they had spent dancing around their feelings. It was jarring – he was usually the one to take the ‘no bullshit’ approach. “With you bein’ all the way across the country without me aren’t you gonna forget about me? What’s gonna stop you from moving on?”

Brock frowned, the sadness in his boyfriend’s eyes absolutely crushed him. “I couldn’t forget about you if I tried, and believe me I’ve tried. In case you’ve forgotten, I couldn’t forget about my feelings for you after five years, I think I can make it a few months at a time.”

“It’s different, B,” José insisted. “We still saw each other almost every day, even though we didn’t talk. When you’re in Boston, you’re gonna meet all kinds of cool East Coast people… maybe you won’t need me anymore.”

“Oh, baby…” Brock frowned and cupped his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t think you understand just how incredible and unique you are. I could travel across the whole world, meet new people every day, and I know for a fact that no one will ever hold a candle to you. You are so special, you always have been.” He placed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “Do you have a college plan yet?”

José looked down and away, shaking his head. “I dunno if I’m the college type, boo. Maybe community college. My mama wants me to go to a trade school, learn some practical shit like plumbing or welding or whatever.”

“And those are both great options if that’s what you want to do,” Brock assured, then paused. “What do you wanna do?”

He laughed humorlessly, chewing on his lip. “You really wanna know?”

“Of course.”

“I wanna go to beauty school.” It was the first time he had actually said it out loud, but if José could confide in anyone, he knew it would be his boyfriend. “You know, do hair and makeup and all that… but it ain’t easy to make a living off of that.”

Brock moved to sit next to him on the bed. “If that’s what you’re passionate about, that’s what you have to do. If you want to be a makeup artist, I know you’re gonna be the best makeup artist around. You always give your all with everything you’re passionate about.”

José looked at him with a soft smile and a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You think so? ‘Cause, I mean, I could look for schools out there, don’t really matter what state I get licensed in.”

“Now we’re talking,” he encouraged. “We could get an apartment together, it’ll be cheaper than room and board. I mean, it’s a big step, but…”

“No, wait, I like the sound of that,” José brightened up. “You and me in our own little place, being all domestic and shit… That’s real cute, I see that for us.”

Brock wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to commit to anything yet. You’ve got plenty of time, but now you know that you’ve got options, that we can make it work.” He ran his fingers gently through José’s hair. “And if you decide you don’t wanna make that move, we’ll do the long distance thing. We’ll have phone calls and FaceTime, we’ll be able to meet up at every break.”

José tossed his now-empty cup in the trash and laid down, tugging on Brock to join him and cuddling into his side. “Truth is, I don’t see any future without you in it. I know we haven’t been back together all that long, but… I dunno, I just know, you know?”

“I know.” He chuckled lightly. “I feel that too. Like… it feels fast, but fast is the right speed.”

“Could be ‘cause we already put in four years of work,” José mused. “You know, built the foundation.”

Brock held José close and kissed his forehead. “We have a great foundation. Sturdy,” he hummed.

------

José let out a frustrated huff. “Will you fucking hold still?”

“I’m trying!” Brock insisted. “I’m not used to things poking me in the eye like that,” he whined, doing his best to keep his face and body still so José could keep going.

And he did appreciate the effort, holding Brock’s head steady with one hand while he continued the eye makeup with the other. He had already come far too close to completely messing up the eye, and he wasn’t about to risk anything now that he was so close to getting this second eye. “Oooh shit, this is looking real pretty. Definitely the best eye look so far.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Brock hummed.

“You’re gonna love it. Now shut up so I can do your lips,” José said as he set the brush and palette down and picked up the lip liner. “I’ma try to overline it again, I watched more tutorials so I think I can get it right this time.”

Brock didn’t want to disrupt him again, so he just stayed completely still while José continued with his masterpiece.

“Okay, just needs setting spray and it’s done,” José announced, spritzing over his boyfriend’s face, then taking a step back to admire his handiwork. “And that’s it, go on and take a look.”

Brock opened his eyes right away and looked in the mirror. “Oh wow, babe, this came out so good,” he beamed brightly. “I am so impressed, you’re really getting better each time.”

“Good, gotta build up that portfolio,” he hummed, grabbing his phone. “Alright, look at me and give me fashion.”

“Fashion, got it,” he giggled, then did his best to give a ‘model’ pose while José took pictures.

José gave a nod of approval when he decided he’d gotten enough options. “I think that’s a wrap,” he hummed. “You’ll help me pick which ones to send to Courtney, right?” After Brock had explained José’s new endeavor to his friend, she had offered to edit them to enhance his portfolio even more. So far, he had built up a decent repertoire, as he was lucky enough to have plenty of friends – and a very supportive and patient boyfriend – that were happy to be painted by him.

“Of course. I say we pick a top three at most, that should be enough to work with,” Brock suggested as he got up. He wrapped his arms around José’s waist. “I am so proud of you, you’ve really dove into this, and any cosmetology school is gonna be lucky to have you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” José beamed. “Literally, couldn’t afford all this fuckin’ makeup on my own,” he teased, then looked up at him sincerely. “No, but really, thank you for believing in me, I knew you had to be the first person I told for a reason.”

Brock ruffled José’s hair lightly. “There should never be any doubt in your mind that I believe in you more than anything. You’ve supported me through so much when it comes to my dreams, now, I’m just happy I get to do the same for you.”

José leaned his head against Brock’s chest, holding him close. “We make a good team, don’t we? Hopefully we can keep being a good team in Boston.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” Brock smiled, rubbing his boyfriend’s back, “even if we can’t, it’ll take a lot more than three thousand miles to break up this team.”

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction #oh my god can you guys believe this is actually done #it only took me nine months lmao

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fillorian-pocketwatch · 5 years ago

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The Makings and Fate of Quentin Coldwater: What Were the Writers Thinking?

Trigger warnings: Quentin Coldwater, seasons 4 and (briefly) 5, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, outdated ideas about the purity of women.

General warnings: Spoilers for the show and the books.

Buckle up, darlings, and my apologies in advance: this is a rough ride, and I don’t recommend reading it if you aren’t in the right headspace for it right now.

I hope that those who do read it might drop some LGBTQIA+ positive book/tv recommendations in the comments as a pick-me-up for others. I will add some myself if I can think of some good ones.

So as it turns out, I ran into something entirely by accident: the inspiration behind the character of Quentin Coldwater.

I knew that Eliot and his "will-they-or-won't-they" dynamic with Quentin in the Magicians books were both borrowed from Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited (Grossman has said so himself)--

but I didn't realize there was an actual preexisting character Grossman borrowed from for Q:

Quentin Compson, from The Sound and the Fury.

This explains so much for me. So much.

I ran across information about the character the other day while doing something completely unrelated (looking up some other book if I recall correctly), and when I saw the similarity of the two names and then learned about the first Quentin’s fate, I thought, could this be LG’s inspiration?

Further research revealed that yes, Lev has said as much in articles. And even if he hadn’t, the fact that he has written extensively *about* TSatF online makes it a relatively easy conclusion to draw.

While the two Quentins aren't actually much alike (at least on the surface; I haven't read TSatF yet, just in-depth summaries/analyses of it)--other than the fact that they are both mentally ill over-achiever college students, are preoccupied with the idea of another world (the world as they each wish it was), and constantly associated with symbolic clocks and watches--Quentin Compson's fate explains everything for me in terms of how to understand Quentin Coldwater's series-four fate.

Quentin Compson ultimately kills himself in the famous classic novel; he does so by drowning after jumping off the Anderson Memorial Bridge in Boston, Massachusetts. Today there is a plaque there to commemorate the character:

In the Faulkner novel, Quentin associates the smell of honeysuckle with his obsessions over his sister’s purity--an ideal he comes to feel let down by after she loses her virginity and then seems to lose herself further in the company of men he feels are unsuitable.

I can’t help but make a parallel with the “drowned garden” of season 4, episode 12.

Quentin makes the following speech in the drowned garden, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s the closest thing we get to a suicide note:

You know the worst part of getting exactly what you want? When it's not good enough. Then what do you do? If this can't make me happy, then what would? Fillory was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something here. But it's all... it's just... it's random. It's so random that the only way to save my friends is to yell at a fucking plant! Honestly, fuck Fillory for being so disappointing. You know what, maybe I was better off just believing that it was fiction. The idea of Fillory is what saved my life! [laughs.] This promise... that... people like me... [weeping] People like me... Can somehow... Find an escape. There has gotta be some power in that. Shouldn't loving the idea of Fillory be enough?

But the idea of Fillory is not enough, in the end, because the idea of happiness is also not enough. And by the end of his time on the show, that’s all Quentin has: the trappings of happiness (or at least the ones available to him, the ones he thinks might get him there), without the actual emotion.

Maybe he realizes, in the drowned garden, that he is at the end of his rope. Maybe that is where he decides to give up.

That, in my opinion, is why he begins to seem so shut down: it isn’t uncommon for people to distance themselves emotionally as a precursor to suicide (hence Jason being accused of “refusing to act” toward the end of S4).

I think it’s also why he doesn’t stop to wait and see how Eliot is after Margo strikes the Monster with the axes: he has given up on the idea that the things he thinks will make him happy actually will, or that happiness is actually attainable for him in the first place.

Quentin Coldwater drowns not in the fading of honeysuckle; for him it’s peaches and plums. In any case, he is definitely in over his head, and the water that spills out of the mirrors after his death feels like an homage to that literal drowning of his predecessor.

The TM writers found ways, as the show progressed, to tie the books back in to the show; the way they did it, however, was often roundabout to say the least. Their takes on how different plot points should occur, or be interpreted from book to screen, were usually close to abstract. They did do it, in many ways, but theirs was far from a faithful adaptation.

It fits, therefore, that they would tie The Sound and the Fury into S4 the way that it appears they did.

It also tells me something about how blame for their decision can be distributed, because either the showrunners:

a.) really did their research re: Compson and put together that this was the character that inspired Lev

or, as is much more likely, they:

b.) discussed it all with Lev himself--or LG was the one to broach the subject to see what sort of take they could spin.

Whatever the lead-in to the decision, I think three things combined to give them the idea for Q’s fate:

1. Quentin Compson;

2. Alice’s description, in the third book, of watching an old god kill herself to make way for a new world (which was when Umber and Ember emerged);

3. The following lines from The Magician’s Land: “The truly sad thing was that Ember actually wanted to do it. Quentin saw that too: He had come here intending to drown Himself, the way the god before Him had, but He couldn’t quite manage it. He was brave enough to want to, but not brave enough to do it. He was trying to find the courage, longing for the courage to come to Him, but it wouldn’t, and while He waited for it, ashamed and alone and terrified, the whole cosmos was coming crashing down around Him.

Quentin wondered if he would have been brave enough. He would never know. But if Ember couldn’t sacrifice himself, Quentin would have to do it for Him.”

So, it appears, the group of writers (LG included, however actively) apparently decided to take Quentin’s thought from book three and put him in exactly that position: make the choice, or fail to make the choice.

But the need for him to make that choice was never horribly convincing. They were very mistaken if they thought it was. And no matter what, it was ultimately a horrible, damaging idea. It hurt the audience, and it killed the show. The only sacrifice that was made was made in the name of ego and “clever writing” that the writers thought was edgy and risky in some desirable way.

[Quote from vulture.com]

It's not so deep.

What they did, ultimately, was borrow from more than one outdated work, and use those as excuses to do the wrong things re: mental illness and LGBTQIA+ representation:

Evelyn Waugh’s characters fail, once again, to live their lives and desires freely and openly (What a waste to rehash the long-denied dynamic from Brideshead Revisited only to deny it again);

Quentin Compson’s legacy of suicide and hopelessness lives on (and this is made all the more offensive when you learn that Compson’s suicide was based largely on ideas of spoiled purity which were solely the burden of women to uphold).

They took what could have been made right and beautiful and instead used their story to perpetuate the same sad old traditions of queerbaiting and Burying the Gays.

Tragedy is not more profound than happiness (just ask Quentin Coldwater). I'd argue that to make something really beautiful, you need to mend what's broken.

The world is a broken place. It's easy to break things here.

The worst thing they did to Q, by far, was to use the beautiful concept of minor mending against him like it was the fuse on a stick of dynamite: the thing he’d spent his whole life seeking--his specific field, his special skill in the actual real world of magic--was what he used to kill himself. He killed himself by *fixing something.* We need no further evidence that Q had given up hope.

What a terrible message, and what a slap in the face to viewers who put their trust in this atrocious writing.

And they did nothing to redeem themselves after the fact, either. If anything, they made it even worse, somehow:

Eliot, by the end of the show, has even less than he started with.

Eliot, apparently, is us: left without Q, stripped of the comfort of a world we thought we knew. Utterly let down by the writers who had the power to make things different.

I hate to end this on such a terrible note. So let me just say that if you were let down by the show, and you miss Q, you’re far from alone! I see you, and I hear you, and I share your pain.

TM got it all wrong. But I have faith that others will get it right.

And no matter what, in the last book, Quentin lives, and has nothing but a whole world of possibility open up before him.

#The Magicians #Meta #Quentin Coldwater #The Sound and the Fury #the magicians season five #the magicians season four #the magicians books #Eliot Waugh #Brideshead Revisited #Evelyn Waugh #William Faulkner #Queliot #mental illness #lgbt representation #queerbaiting

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eirian-houpe · 4 years ago

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Disparate Pathways

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 15 - Trust No One

They didn’t travel far. Jefferson turned the purloined Bureau vehicle back toward Boston. He figured that would be the last thing anyone would expect him to do, and besides, he had a call to make and since he’d tossed the ‘borrowed’ phone almost as soon as he’d finished with it, he had to find another way than using his cell, which he was certain they’d be watching for; pinging.

He had no way to know if any kind of alert had been put out, but he figured as soon as the downed agents got picked up by EMS, there would be something, and he cursed inwardly that Gold hadn’t gotten back to him sooner, and no way to check that he had since. Jefferson wasn’t to know that even as he was thinking ill of the man, Gold was securing his home against danger.

He took the exit to a business district, another run down, abandoned sign of the times. The roads were concrete and were riddled with spider-web cracks that made the ride less than smooth. Each jolt and bump increased the ache in his shoulder. Downplaying the wound to Belle was one thing, but if he didn’t do something to deal with it soon he risked infection, and that would just be the icing on the day’s shit-cake.

A particularly large rut in the road roused Belle from her doze, and he turned an apologetic half-smile her way.

“Where are we?” she asked, and he glanced at her again to see her peering out of the window.

“Middle of nowhere business district,” he answered wryly, and when she looked back at him, he gave her an almost boyish smile and nodded to the run down building alongside which he had just pulled up. “Need to make a call.”

He watched her face crinkle in confusion, before she said, “You have your cell phone.”

He reached into his inside jacket pocket and brought out the various parts of his phone, separated from its battery.

“Safer this way,” he said, and killed the engine.

“But you made a call back there.” She gestured vaguely in a backward direction, and he got her meaning right away.

“Wasn’t mine,” he admitted. “Belonged to one of the other agents, and I ditched it right after the call.”

She didn’t answer, just looked down at her hands and sighed, and even before she spoke again, softly and with a good deal of sadness in her voice, he felt guilt creeping up to wrap around his throat, beneath his ruined scarf. He fought the urge to rub a hands over the scars on sides of his neck.

“I don’t…” she began softly, “I don’t understand how you can claim to be one of the good guys but—”

He cut her off equally as softly. “Listen, I’ve done what I have to keep us safe, to keep you safe, and yes, to use the phone I’m going to break in to that building. I’m going to check in with my handler. Let him know I got you out, and then we’re going to get a Ryde, collect my car, and I’ll take you to a… friend. He’ll keep you safe.”

“But you said you’re keeping me safe.”

“For now, yes,” he said. “But I have to get back. I have a job to finish… a lot of other people to keep safe as best I can.”

“You’re going back there?” Belle’s voice rose in pitch, clearly alarmed. “They’ll kill you! You’re insane!”

He shook his head. “Sane person in an insane world,” he said. “I have to see this through, Belle. I won’t make the last eight years of my life be for nothing.”

For a moment he closed his eyes, as if that act would shut out the endless march of cruelty he’d witnessed and mostly managed to avoid being a part of, the ceaseless parade of faces, tear stained and bloodied. The cacophony of cries, that haunted his sleep and woke him in a cold sweat more often than not, when he managed to catch more than a couple of hours at a time.

Far worse than all of that was the time he’d lost with Grace; his Grace. His… and he had to keep reminding himself of that - believing that - otherwise he feared he’d lose sight of why he was doing what he was doing; Lose hope.

“Jefferson?”

Belle’s gentle call of his name, and the hesitant touch on his arm brought him back, and he swallowed hard.

“Come on,” he said by way of an answer, and unclipped both their seat belts, coming around the car to help Belle out before heading to the trunk to retrieve the first aid kit, and spare ammunition for the weapon he carried, slipping everything into the messenger bag he found there. At the last minute he also snatched up a blanket that was in the trunk, and brought it over to wrap around Belle. The wind was cutting, and he didn’t want her to catch a chill on top of everything else.

“Thank you,” she said as he tucked it around her, before steering her into the doorway of the building, only letting go when he needed both hands to operate the lock picks.

It had been a while since he’d had to use them. As a supposed hard ass criminal, his regular M.O. was simply to introduce his boot to any door he wanted open, so it took him a while and several muttered curses under his breath as the uncooperative tumblers slipped and refused his tender ministrations. Just as he was beginning to think he’d have to resort to the less refined manner of entry, the tumblers clicked into place, and the lock opened.

“Not quite ‘open sesame’,” he offered over his shoulder to Belle, “but it’ll do.”

He pulled open the door, allowing her to precede him, then led her, by feel alone, to the nearest office along the hallway. He flicked on the light as they entered, and he was somewhat gratified to discover the office lighting was sub par. A light blazing at that time of the night was more likely to attract the attention of any random, passing law enforcement, but a dim glow - that could be easily overlooked.

He quickly rolled the over-sized office chair from behind the desk, and nodding to offer it to Belle, suggested, “Take a seat. I shouldn’t be too long.” Then, as he picked up the receiver from the desk phone muttered, “I hope,” to himself.

The call was answered within three rings, and he could just imagine his handler stabbing at the button to take the call.

“Rab,” he said after a deep breath, intending to say more in greeting, but was cut off by the angry relief in the man’s voice.

“Milnor, what the fuck…!”

“Well, hello to you too.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but knew that he hadn’t quite pulled it off.

“Where the hell are you?” Rab demanded.

“Oh no,” he said, his voice turning cold in reflection of his handler’s attitude. “You don’t get to know that. Not after what you pulled!”

“My hands were tied, Jefferson, Rab said, and he could almost see the man spreading his hands as though he were helpless.

“Bullshit!”

”They were, I—”

“Bull. Shit,” Jefferson repeated. “There’s no fucking way you were kept out of the loop on that raid. Thirty minutes, you promised. Thirty god damned minutes, and you couldn’t even give me that. This whole thing has been a complete shit show from the off.”

”You’re wrong. The raid was a success.”

“She wasn’t there.” Jefferson scoffed.

”We picked up some of her people,” Rab said. “Plus there’s one in the hospital, apparently took a nosedive from an upstairs balcony…”

Jefferson glanced over to where Belle was sitting, her lip between her teeth, obviously tense; worried, and wondered if he should tell her, until Rab continued speaking, and then all thought of easing her conscience flew to the four winds.

“One of them will spill,” Rab finished.

It was all Jefferson could do not to laugh, bitterly, as tears sprang unexpectedly to his eyes. “You think any one of them is going to talk, you’re a fool.” His voice cracked on the edge of a whine.

”We’ll cut ‘em a deal. Make them an offer they can’t—”

“They won’t. Don’t you get it?”

”They will. They—”

“They’re terrified of her, Rab. Jesus Christ!” Jefferson ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “A word from her… a breath - a look, and they’re dead, their family is dead… everything… everyone… wiped out!”

”Jefferson…”

“You think you can offer them anything worth that?”

”There’s witness protectio—”

“Oh, fuck you!” Jefferson exclaimed, and began to pace as far as the phone cord would allow him to. “You think she couldn’t find them? She’s everywhere man!”

”Sound like you’re afraid of her.”

“And so would you be if you ever listened to a word I said.” He paced across the floor again, repeating for good measure. “Ever.”

”You need to come in, Jefferson,” Rab said, “Decompress. Debrief - tell us what you know.”

“The hell I do.”

”We need your intel.”

“You had my intel,” he spat. “You chose to ignore it; made promises you had no intention of keeping just to try and keep me sweet.” He felt the tremor in his arm as he gripped the phone, his knuckles white as he held the receiver to his ear. “Well, fuck you, McNeal, and fuck the bureau.”

“We can help you.”

“You can kiss my ass!” he growled. “I have the daughter. I’m taking her somewhere safe.”

”You need to bring her home, Milnor,” Rab argued. “Her father—”

“—is as dirty as they are. Complicit.” He finished Rab’s sentence. “Look, this was just a courtesy call to let you know I’m alive. Don’t try and find me. I’ll come in if and when I’m ready.”

”Jefferson…” He ignored the warning tone in Rab’s voice. “If you do this, I can’t protect you.”

“Be in touch,” he said by way of an answer… hearing the man calling his name over and over again as he hung up the phone.

#rumbelle #implied torture #implied drug use #implied noncon #angst #hurt/comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #UST #eventual smut #violence #gun violence #character death #disparate pathways #i will always write jefferson

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Across Seven Seas

Chapter 2

Description: This fanfiction series is set in the year 2022, after the horrid COVID-19 has finally come to an end. In this fanfiction, Chris Evans holidays with his family in India and meets Meera Shankar. The story explores their rollercoaster journey and raises a question, whether two people, from two contrasting backgrounds and cultures, can build their future together?

This series is Chris Evans x OFC with Chris Evans' family and friends having recurring appearances. Please find below a lot of Original Characters-

Meera Shankar - The female lead

Meera's Mother

Poppy - Meera's maternal grandmother

Rohan - Meera's elder brother who is 6 years older than her.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

FIND MORE CHAPTERS BY CLICKING ON MY BIO

This is a work of fiction. The names of the hotels and companies have been changed to avoid copyright issues. Meera Shankar and her family is based on the author and her kin. No offense is intended.

P.S- All the photographs used in the chapters are of the real locations mentioned. I clicked these photographs on my vacation.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Chapter 2

Same day, 5:45pm - Dehradun Airport, India

The airplane cabin was lit with soft evening sunlight as the plane descended on the runway. Resting her head against the window, Meera tried her best to soak up the warmth. After collecting their bags, the family of four headed towards the taxi stand, looking for the hotel cab scheduled to pick them up from the airport.

Meera spotted the handheld sign 'SHANKARS' in the sea of drivers. Waving her hand, heads turned in their direction as she called out to the driver. "Meera at least try to be a little lady-like, let Rohan deal with the driver," urged her mother. "Seriously Ma? Deal with the driver? We just needed to get his attention and put our luggage in the car," said Meera, rolling her eyes. As the driver led them towards the cab, Rohan and Meera grabbed the luggage from the airport trolley. After the bags were kept safely in the trunk of the car, Meera returned the trolley to the stand. Her mother chided as she walked back, "What was the need to do that? There are workers who are hired to do this work." "Yes Ma but we used that trolley for our work, right? So we can keep it back in place as well. It makes life a little easier for the airport staff." "Why do you need to make their life easier? They get salary for their jobs." "Ma they stand on their feet for almost their entire shift. Even if a few people return their trolleys to the station, it can offer them some respite na?" Meera tried to reason, but her mother scoffed. "At least you can try to walk normally." Turning to look at her mother, Meera cocked an eyebrow, her expression saying "Really?"

It would be incorrect to describe Meera's walk as 'dainty'. Keeping her broad shoulders wide and her back straight, Meera held her head high while walking, controlling the swing of her hands by her side. She made it a point not to sway her hips but instead walked with her legs apart. Moreover, the attitude with which she walked always gave the impression that she is charging towards her target. With a height of 5ft 7", she often loomed over other women, her extra weight adding bulk to her persona.

Being the closest city to the hill station Mussoorie, Dehradun was a hub of activity. Alive with modern shopping centres, fancy restaurants, malls and a buzzing nightlife, the beauty of it all was lost on Meera. For her, it were the heritage sites in the city that piqued her interest. She was longing to explore places such as the Watch Tower built in the 1930s, a 50-year-old monastery and the Forest Research Institution, built in the 17th century that housed 3 museums. These places of cultural interest seemlessly merged themselves with the crowded city.

It was almost 7pm by the time they reached their hotel in the city. The plan was to rest overnight, then leave for the hill station early in the morning. While Mussoorie was just around 3 hours away, Meera knew it would take more time for them to reach their destination in the hills, with her motion sickness slowing them down on the winding hilly roads. She looked through the hotel room window, her inner nerd itching to visit the museums, walk amongst the city dwellers, learn more about their culture, their lifestyles. But alas, her family had other plans.

While her brother had started drinking alcohol the minute he entered his room, Poppy and Meera's mother were already on the bed, surfing through the TV channels. "Bala," Meera's mother called her, "Why are you standing near the window? Are you feeling unwell?" "Just looking outside the window Ma," she replied. "Why?" her mother pressed on, "You even took a long time in the bathroom. Are you okay?" With that, Meera turned around, visibly irritated, "Ma how many times have I told you it is creepy to keep track of my bathroom schedule? I HATE it when you do that!" "What is creepy in that? I am your mother. I have every right to know what are you doing, and when and where are you doing it." "No you don't!" exclaimed Meera, "You cannot keep a track of everything that I do Ma. I am 30 years old now and..." "29 years old," corrected her mother. "How does it matter?" continued Meera, "Stop nagging me all the time!" "But why are you looking out of the window? There's nothing to see," her mother insisted. "I am just looking out of the window because that's all we will get to do here AND in Mussoorie! Just sit and look. Nobody wants to go out, nobody wants to explore. Just sit in the comfortable chair in cold weather and look outside. That's all we do on EVERY vacation! That's all we ever do!" "You can also watch TV or maybe read a book," suggested Poppy. "Yes we spent thousands of rupees just to watch TV or read a book. Brilliant idea!" replied Meera sarcastically. "I can't believe I have 2 weeks to either look at mountains or at TV." "We will also go out Bala," her mother tried to reason with her. "Yes, Rohan will go out to buy alcohol from the local shops, he will then keep drinking like a fish and fall sick, which will cause you to worry. After he recovers, all of us will step outside once to see a handful of tourist attractions. And that's it. That's all the 'outings' I will have. Because you will never let me go out alone na. So I will be stuck at the hotel," concluded Meera, "This is why I wanted to go to a beach resort for our vacation. At least there would have been something to do at the beach." "I don't like beaches," said her mother. "I know," Meera sighed in resignation, turning back to look out of the window into the darkness.

6th September, 4:45am - Logan Airport, Boston, USA:

Chris had his eyes closed, trying to breathe through the anxiety which consumed him. He had been wrong in thinking that the paparazzi would not catch up with them if they caught an early plane. The swarm of reporters who were gathered outside the VIP entrance of the airport had been out for blood, desparate to capture a snap of the infamous Chris Evans. While regular photographers could have still been managed, the reporters with cameramen and mics certainly did not make it easier for him to walk through the gates of the airport. "People are now calling you the Disgraced Captain, how does that make you feel Chris?", "Do you want to share a message with your disappointed fans?", "When are you going to apologize to the public Chris?" His breathing became laboured as the reporters' questions started playing in his mind like a playlist on loop.

Scott sat besides him, rubbing his shoulders gently. Chris' condition was worrisome for the entire family. Chris had been unable to handle his downfall, and it had taken a toll on his mental, emotional and physical health. He only ever smiled and laughed with Dodger now, and even then, his eyes wore a distant look. No amount of therapy had helped his elder brother. Things started slipping further when Chris had completely stopped grooming himself. His hair and beard had outgrown his face, with only his nose and blue eyes visible. Chris had even started giving up on the gym, barely trying to maintain his muscular figure. Where rock-hard abs once dotted his torso, now a small flab of fat replaced it. Luckily though, his sweater hid the tiny gut well.

"Hey... Hey c'mon now, you know how harsh the media can be right? I am sure this will all blow over in a few weeks. Just take deep breaths. 🎶Just keep breathing, just keep breathing breathing🎶," Scott tried his best to hum, hoping to bring a smile on the hairy meatballs' face. But instead, he was greeted with teary eyes. "They are right, aren't they? I disappointed so many people. I lost so much Scott. I can't even begin to..." "This flight is about to take off," interrupted the airhostess, "Tie your seatbelts," she left with that curt instruction. When Scott turned to look at his brother again, Chris had angled his body towards the wall, already looking outside the window, at the first pale yellow signs of the rising sun. This is going to be a long flight, thought Scott.

Same day, 8pm - Dehradun Hotel, India

It was finally time for dinner. Wearing 2 jackets and a skull cap, Meera looked at herself in the mirror once before heading downstairs. She looked comical. Her overweight body looking larger with the bomber jacket, the skull cap covering most of her head, her black hair and her ears. Her glasses snuggly resting on her nose and her hands in the pockets of the thick pants she wore. She was not sure of the material. But hey, those pants kept her warm and better yet, they came with pockets! If only we would have gone to a warmer location, thought Meera ruefully, I could have worn my dresses. At least I would have still looked like a woman. A dry, homeless laugh escaped her lips. Ma would sacrifice her limbs to get me to behave like a woman.

This was going to be a cold and long vacation, and Meera was not looking forward to it.

#chris evans x india #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chrisevans #India #Dehradun #Mussoorie #Boston #Chris Evans family #Scott Evans #evansedit #evansensations #Chris Evans vacation #chris evans x oc #chris evans x plus size reader #oc appreciation day 2020 #OCs Are People Too

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somekindoftuber · 6 years ago

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vld youtuber AU (klance, part 4)

part one | part two | part three

Compared to the all day insanity of his livestream, Lance’s 23rd birthday is super laid back. Hunk makes the hour drive into Harborville and the three of them hit his favorite pizza joint. It’s not as good as the one back home on Varadero Beach, but it’s a close second. After that they spend the rest of the day in he and Pidge’s living room playing horror games and snuggling together on the couch (let it be known that Hunk is a world class cuddler and his hugs can cure most ailments). He spends an hour on facetime with his family, retreating to his room at one point to talk to his mom and dad alone. He misses them so much, even though he was just there. He comes out of his room sniffling a little and lets Hunk scoop him up like a ragdoll.

Once July is over, Lance finds his schedule suddenly packed. His subscriber count is starting to inch towards twenty five thousand and he has to sit down and process that for a while. It doesn’t seem real. That’s a fourth of the way to a silver creator award - he never dreamed he’d get that far just making weird videos and singing parody songs.

But to what end? Does he want a youtube career? This was just supposed to be a fun hobby. Not that he wants to work at the cafe the rest of his life, but his associate’s degree in social sciences has sort of been going to waste. He might be able to use youtube as a stepping stone into something else.

But what?

He would normally consult Pidge, but she’s slammed with robotics projects and barely has time to hang out at all. Hunk is still online sometimes, but he’s frequently occupied since he finally grew a spine and asked Shay out after pining for her at a distance for almost a year.

Like how you’re pining for Keith, his inner monologue tells him. He shakes his head to shut it up. Besides, Lance has only been pining for what, four, maybe five months? Not nearly as bad.

Speaking of Keith, Lance hasn’t heard much from him since the Livestream. He never responded to Lance’s text thanking him, and he hasn’t played Overwatch in a while. Shiro had recently posted a video where they were finishing up their current bike and Keith had been there (looking amazing and wow is his hair getting long), so Lance knows he’s alive. A weird sense of dread starts gnawing at him, so he sends Keith a DM on twitter.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Hey man just checking in, haven’t heard from you in a while, you good? We should play OW soon, I miss my dps partner ;D

He hopes that’s not too forward. While he waits for a reply (and so he doesn’t anxiously check his twitter every two minutes), Lance starts working on the guitar part of a Hozier song he wants to cover, and he’s never been more glad that he took the time to learn how to read and write music. Lance’s channel has been featuring more love songs - for which Pidge and Hunk have collectively nicknamed him Captain Subtlety. But does it matter how not-subtle he is if none of it seems to be getting through to his intended target?

He spends a good two hours practicing and then takes a break, finally letting himself check his twitter. There’s a reply from Keith and Lance almost jumps up from his chair.

@k_redlion to @LanceyLance yeah man sorry just been really busy with work and the garage i’m free this thursday if you want to play

He’s not technically free. He was planning on filming on Thursday since Pidge will be out of the apartment almost all day and he won’t bother her. But for Keith? He’ll make time.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Heck yeah man just name a time!!

When they do play on Thursday, Keith isn’t very talkative. He’s always sort of quiet, but he sounds tense today. His words are even more clipped, and it sets Lance on edge. They’re in a queue for a game when Lance decides he can’t take any more.

“Dude,” He asks. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Yeah, right, Lance thinks. But he’s gotta approach this carefully. Keith doesn’t open up easily, he knows that much, and attempting to force it out of him would likely backfire.

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I know we’re not, like, super close, but you can tell me if something’s wrong. I’m actually really good at keeping secrets.”

There’s a bit of silence, then a tiny breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Like how you told the entire internet that Pidge pukes in the car if she reads anything other than road signs?”

Lance makes an indignant sound. “Oh come on, that’s not a secret! Anyone who’s been in a car with her for five minutes knows she’s has the stomach strength of a toddler!”

Keith laughs then, and it’s such a nice sound, even if it’s short lived. It breaks the tension enough that Lance feels confident about trying again.

“But seriously, Keith. I’m here for you, yeah?” Lance chews on his lip. “I hope that’s okay for me to say.”

There’s a stretch of quiet that has Lance almost breaking out into a sweat. But then he hears Keith huff over the mic. “Yeah,” Keith says, and it sounds like there’s a smile behind it. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

Lance gets another invite from Shiro.

It’s perfect timing because Pidge is finishing her summer term and is completely fried - something only a trip home will fix. And since she doesn’t have a car, Lance has the perfect excuse to drive her. With his neighbors set to watch his cats, they pile in Lance’s Civic, put on a playlist of Disney songs, and sing for nearly the entire drive. Pidge is damn near loopy after her final exam, but she finished her robotics project and most likely aced it. Like she does every exam. Lance doubts she’s ever seen anything lower than an A- on anything.

The Holts are just as chipper as always, even if Pidge collapses face-first into her father as soon as she steps through the door. He just pats her head and laughs. Lance brings their stuff inside so Pidge can take a much needed nap, then shoots a text to Shiro letting him know they got in okay. They’re not set to film for another two days, but maybe he can sneak some hang-out time in there. Until then, everyone under the Holt family roof is on Pidge pampering duty.

Filming day comes and Lance brings a cake for them all to share. He pulls up to the house and parks on the street, noting that the house garage is open. Keith is inside, bent over a motorcycle and surrounded by parts and tools, looking so focused that he doesn’t seem to notice Lance approaching. He’s wearing a tank top and sweats and is covered in grease, but he still looks good, so Lance doesn’t say anything for a second and admires the view. Keith’s phone is perched on a toolbox nearby, playing music - Massive Attack. Of course he would listen to Massive Attack.

Keith finally notices him and stiffens, turning. With the cake in his arms, Lance can’t really wave, so he just shrugs and smiles. Keith eyes him up and down for a second before pointing to the door inside the garage.

“Head on in, Shiro’s in the kitchen.”

When he gets inside, Shiro stands from the kitchen table to take the cake from Lance and pull him into a hug. Lance thinks he’ll never get used to that. Keith wanders in a minute later and goes straight for the back of the house to shower and change.

Shiro looks to be in good health, as does Keith, though he’s not really meeting Lance’s eyes. Did he do something wrong? They drive to Shiro’s rented garage a few miles away and shoot for almost five hours, switching camera duty between the three of them. They get a hilarious outtake when Lance drops a socket wrench and juggles it spectacularly before it falls to the floor and bounces at least a dozen times - like something out of a cartoon. It sets them all laughing.

Once they’re done filming, Shiro locks up the garage and they head home. Then it’s time for dinner, barbecue again, but Lance isn’t complaining. He gets put on corn and potato detail while Shiro gets the grill going. Keith still isn’t being very talkative. He doesn’t seem to be actively avoiding Lance, but he thought they’d gotten to a point where they could chat candidly.

Kosmo provides a nice distraction while they eat, giving both Lance and Keith something else to focus on. As the sun sets, Lance could swear that Shiro is giving him a weird look.

“So,” Shiro begins. “Pidge is almost done with school, right?”

Lance nods. “Yep. Finishing almost a year early, even. Not that I’d expect any less from her.”

Shiro picks at a slice of pork loin. “What is she going to do next?”

Lance pouts, then shrugs. “Dunno. She’s got her eye on Boston Dynamics, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they welcome her with a red carpet. Have you seen her thesis? I can’t even pronounce half the title.”

Shiro laughs. “Yeah, she’s a Holt alright. Geniuses, the whole family.” There’s a pause. “And what about you, Lance?”

Oof. That sure is a topic. Lance leans back in his lawn chair and finishes his beer. “Beats me. I stayed in Harborville after school because Pidge wanted a roommate, but I don’t really have anything else going for me there.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “I can sort of work from anywhere? Dunno if I want to stay in a college town.”

Shiro nods with a smile, then glances at his phone. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says, then ducks back into the house, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

Now it’s just Lance and Keith.

And Keith is giving him A Look. He’s not sure what to make of it, his thick eyebrows pinched over his nose like Lance just grew a second head.

“Uh,” Lance says. “Something wrong?”

Keith opens and closes his mouth several times, then is suddenly very interested in his plate. “You wouldn’t go with her?” He asks.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Pidge? I mean, I could, I guess...? But I doubt she’d really need me. That woman is going places, y’know? She’s probably pretty eager to be on her own for the first time, especially after living with me for three years.” He laughs a little. “Though I won’t be surprised if she attempts to take one of my cats. Motoko always did like her more than me.”

Keith looks up at Lance and he looks so confused. Adorably confused. “Uh.”

Lance studies him. “Yeah…?”

Keith is chewing on the inside of his cheek a little. “Isn’t -- isn’t Pidge your girlfriend?”

Lance would have choked if he wasn’t so used to that question. “Haha, oh man, no.” He reaches for another beer from the ice chest. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Pidge and would take a bullet for her any day of the week, but she’s like a sister to me.”

Surprise is slowly dawning on Keith’s face. “Oh.” Then he starts blushing.

“Hey man, don’t sweat it,” Lance assures him. “Pretty much everyone thinks we’re an item. No one believes a guy and a girl can live together and not be dating.”

Keith looks so uncomfortable, his face and ears red. “Sorry. I thought - and then in your livestream you said you weren’t single, so…”

“Huh? When did--” But then Lance remembers his line about his heart being spoken for and now he’s blushing too. “Oh, right. Nah, I just tell that to fans, in case anyone tries to get too close. Which some have. It saves me a lot of headache to just pretend I’m seeing someone.”

He swears Keith’s eyes are glittering. “So you’re…?”

Lance nods. “Yep, completely unattached.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet that has Lance fidgeting as Keith keeps looking up at him from behind his bangs. He thought Lance was taken? Is that why he’s been awkward? Or is Lance reading too much into this yet again? He shouldn’t say anything, he should keep his mouth shut and wait for Keith --

Shiro picks the perfect moment to return to the back patio and rescue him. They chat for another hour and Keith has visibly loosened up, laughing loudly at Lance’s jokes and stories. When he says goodnight to make the short drive to the Holt home, Keith smiles wide at him, and it takes Lance’s breath away.

They only stay in town for another two days, and Lance spends more time with the Holts. On their way out, they swing by Shiro’s to say goodbye. Keith still doesn’t hug him, but he grips Lance’s hand tight and holds his gaze with those crazy intense eyes of his.

Pidge naps for most of the drive so Lance puts on one of his favorite mixes and hums along.

They have another two weeks before Pidge starts her last term of undergrad, so Lance throws himself into YouTube. The filming he did at Shiro’s was enough for three episodes, and thankfully one of them includes Lance dropping the socket wrench. He can’t even be embarrassed when he sees Shiro laughing in the footage.

He spends three days recording before finally posting his newest cover - “Like Real People Do.” He worked really hard on this one, recording several tracks to mix together and several camera angles. Lance splices it all together in his editing software to make a little music video, and, as a last touch, puts it all in black and white. He posts it and crosses his fingers, making an announcement tweet about it.

Keith likes that tweet and Lance melts into the couch.

Pidge rolls her eyes from the other couch, looking up from the giant book she considered ‘light reading.’ Lance had told her the tale of Keith thinking he was dating her, and Pidge took on her classic Resting Bitch Face in response.

“I’d say you’re like a lovesick puppy, but I feel like even they wouldn’t be this bad.”

Lance doesn’t even look up. “Let me have this.”

Pidge huffs and makes a vague gesture with her hands. “Lance. For the love of all that is sacred, please get your shit together and ask him out already.”

But Lance pouts. “But what if I’m seeing this all wrong?” he toys with his phone a little. “He’s super withdrawn and I haven’t known him for very long. What if this is just how he acts when he finally trusts someone? He hasn’t exactly flirted with me or anything.”

Pidge turns a page in her book. “Won’t know until you try.”

Sinking further into the couch, Lance sets his phone aside and continues pouting until it’s time to make dinner.

After he disappears into the kitchen and Pidge starts hearing the rattle of pots and pans, she takes out her phone and opens the text app.

(+328) shiro this is pidge. i need to talk to you

(+770) Hi Pidge! Everything okay?

(+328) in the grand scheme of things yes. i am however about to either lose my mind or commit homicide against my roommate

(+770) Lance?

(+328) shiro. listen. lance is hopelessly in love with your brother and if i have to put up with his pining for my last term i might flunk out from sheer frustration

(+328) he refuses to ask keith out because he’s convinced that he’s misreading it and keith isn’t interested. please tell me hes wrong

(+770) Oh wow

(+770) ahahaha

(+770) Oh my god, this is hilarious.

(+770) Keith is completely smitten with Lance, but won’t do anything about it for the same reason.

(+328) oh my god

(+328) theyre perfect for each other

(+770) Yep.

(+328) but i think it’s time for an intervention

(+328) before i do something ill regret

(+770) I agree. Any ideas?

(+328) yes actually

Continued in part 5 here!

#text #youtuber au #klance

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lovemychoices · 5 years ago

Text

Always Be My Driver - A RoD Rom-Com [Colt x MC/Logan x MC]. CH 6

Book : RIDE OR DIE

PAIRING : Colt x MC/ Logan x MC

SUMMARY: Emma and Colt have been childhood best friends since forever, they were both inseparable. In middle school they became something more but when Colt had to move with his mom away from LA all the way to Miami, things started to change between them. A small misunderstanding leads to the end of their relationship. 6 years later they meet again at the most unlikely place. Will Emma and Colt be able to mend what has been broken between them? Or will it continue to crash and burn?

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 2207

Chapter Summary: Colt and Emma spend the day together.

A/N : short chapter & Excuse my grammatical mistakes. Does the more function on mobile even work?

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are above 18.

Catch up with the series HERE

[[MORE]]

“Get up it’s almost noon!” Mona belts, opening the curtains of the loft letting the bright sunlight hit Emma’s face.

“No! Leave me alone.. I want to wallow in sorrow from the comforts of my bed.” Emma whined, covering her face with a pillow. It was the day after Logan told her they should go on a break. Code for we should break up.

“God, this is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen.. And I’ve been to prison.” Mona mumbles and plops herself on the bed next to Emma. “Look, technically you’re on a break which could be good thing.”

Emma turns on her side to face Mona. “How can this be a good thing?”

“Because now you actually have some space and time to think about what you actually want.” She grinned, Emma just stares at her with a blank expression, making Mona roll her eyes. “Look ever since Colt showed up you’ve been caught between your feelings for him and Logan.” Emma is about to say something but Mona raises her hand and shushes her. “Before you deny anything please remember who you’re talking to.”

“Does it even matter now? Colt’s spending the whole week with some pretty girl who is so into him and he’s probably into her too. He even took her to our favorite ice cream parlor!”

Mona snorts. "Didn't take you for a quitter?"

“I’m not a quitter.” She protests then gets out of bed, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors making a creek sound. “It’s just.. I don’t know where Colt stands in regards to what his feelings are for me. I mean one night he tells me how bad he wants to kiss and the next night he acts like he couldn’t care less.”

An alarm on Emma’s phone goes off and she heads to the nightstand to check the notifications. Shit I totally forgot about this. A few months ago Emma’s favorite cousin called her up and told her she was getting married during the summer in San Francisco, when she asked about the RSVP Emma told her that she would be going with a plus one. The plan was that Logan and her were going to drive together Friday morning in time for the rehearsal dinner but that was before they broke up.

“Em? Is everything alright?” Mona quirks an eyebrow.

Emma snaps out of her thoughts. “Yea, Totally. So, Mona any chance you want to attend a wedding in San Francisco this weekend with me?”

Mona snorts out a laugh. “No thanks I have other plans, you’re not the only one with a love life you know.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend?”

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t go on dates. Also if you’re thinking about dragging Ximena or Toby along you won’t have any luck there either.”

Emma heaves out a frustrated sigh and plops herself back on the bed. “So now I need to drive 5 hours alone and attend a wedding alone like some loser.”

“You know there is someone else you could ask who would go with you.” Mona gives Emma a knowing look. “You know someone handsome with dark hair, likes to brood by himself, drives a really cool white sport bike.”

Emma scoffs. “Yeah.. Except you forgot that someone happens to be occupied the whole week with some petite brunette named Jean.”

“Haha… You know you’re cute when your jealous? But I think that Colt would turn down a date with 100 pretty brunette’s named Jean just so he could be with you.” Mona gives a sincere smile which rarely happens. “I need to head out for a job. Just do me a favour, take a shower before you start to reek."

"Fine!" She answers, throwing her hand up in the air before heanding for the bathroom.

Half an hour later…

After a long cold shower, Emma walks out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and her damp hair when she hears a soft knock on the door. I thought Mona left already? She opens the door and to her surprise, sees Colt standing on the other side. "Can I come in?" He asked with a serious expression on his face.

She gives him a skeptical look before eventually nodding and motions for him to enter the room.

"What do you want?" She said in a flat tone with her arms crossed.

His eyes wandered from her face down her chest then back to her face again. "I uh.. Your car’s park in the garage but didn't see you all day, thought maybe I’d check up on you. I wanted to see if you were okay?”

Emma scoffs. "Suddenly you care so much?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'll always care about you Emma, you know that right? If something is bothering you, you can always talk to me." He replies and she could see how sincere he was. Great now I feel bad for being a jerk. "I had some stuff going on, I wasn't really in the mood to do anything this morning."

"Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?" A sudden loud growling sound comes out Emma’s direction. Her face turns pink, she wraps her arms around her stomach. “Have you eaten anything since this morning?”

“Obviously not.”

“Get dressed, we’re going out to grab something to eat. I’m driving.” He smiles and whirls on his heels towards the door, stopping at the threshold, looking over his shoulder. “Wear something appropriate, no dresses or skirts.”

A little while later…

Emma heads down to the garage to meet Colt, she sees him leaning against his motorcycle arms folded. A grin appears on his face as he watches her saunter over. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah well, you don’t get to look like this without putting in any effort.”

Colt rolls his eyes. “Here, this is for you.” He says and hands her a black coloured helmet, she raises her eyebrow at him. “What’s this for? Aren’t we taking a car?”

Colt scoff. “At this hour? You know how bad the traffic is in LA right?” Emma bites her lower lip, she’d hate to admit it but she’s never ridden on a motorcycle before. “You haven’t ridden one of these before have you?” Emma shakes her head as a reply that she’s never rode a motorcycle.

Colt snorts out a laugh. “Emma.. Emma… Emma.. you’re really missing out. So what do you say?” He gestures at the helmet on his hand giving her a challenging look. “Or are you too chicken?”

Did he just call me a chicken? “Alright fine!” She forcefully grabs the helmet out from Colts hand. “And don’t think for one second that you’re slowling down on this thing. I want full speed or no speed at all.”

“Yes ma’am” he gives an exaggerated salute before hopping on to his bike, Emma sitting behind him. Colt starts revving the throttle of his bike while waiting for the garage door to open. “Hold on tight sweetheart, we’re going on one hell of a ride.”

****************************************

A little while later after maneuvering through the bustling city traffic of LA, the two finally reach a familiar spot.

Emma hopped off the bike and opens up her helmet, slowly taking in the sight. A low shrug escaped her and Colt notices. “What not fancy enough for you?”

“No it’s not that, it’s just that I haven’t been here in like almost forever.”

“Well same here, I hope their hotdogs are still as good though. Common all that riding around worked up an appetite.” The two stopped at a nearby food cart and Colt orders a couple of hotdogs after that they continue walking towards the pier. They lean against the wooden rail and enjoy every bite of their food while silently taking in the view of the ocean.

“So.. where’s Jean?” She tries not to grimace as she said the name. “Aren’t you like supposed to be her personal tour guide around LA or something?”

Colt thought back to the night before after the movies and during his time with Jean at the ice cream shop.

“Omg.. This is literally the best handmade ice cream I’ve tasted so far!” Jean beams as she takes another scoop and stuffed it in her mouth. Colt chuckled. “What did I tell ya, Barry beats any big ice cream franchise by a 100 miles. I used to come here a lot with Emma when we were kids.”

Jean gave Colt knowing look when he mentions her name and clears her throat “So how long have you been in love with her?”

Colt slightly chokes on his ice cream. “What do you mean how long have I been in love with her? I’m not in love with..” “Colt it’s fine, I saw the way you looked at her when we were at the movies and the way your face lights up everytime you say her name. Which by the way is a very rare thing to happen for Colt Kaneko.” She grinned and it made Colt slightly blush. “So what’s the scoop? Pun intended.”

Colt snort then heaves a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “You want the whole story?” She nodded excitedly. “Alright where do I begin.” Colt told Jean everything from how they were when they were kids to their first kiss and when they broke up. “Did the two of you ever talk about it? The whole time you were here?”

“Why should we it’s in the past we’ve both moved on, she dating Logan.” He grimaced as he mentioned the name. “Does she know you still have feelings for her?.”

“Like I said she has a boyfriend. I go back to MIT in Boston after the summer ends, what’s the point?”

“So you should still tell her how you feel. What she decides after that is up to her but she at least deserves to know the truth. It’s okay to make yourself feel vulnerable sometimes Colt, when it’s with the right person.”

Colt let her words sink in for a moment. “I’ll think about it but no promises.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She chuckled. “Hey so about this week you don’t have to like be my tour guide or anything. I actually made plans with someone else.”

“Ouch!” He exaggeratedly pressed his hands to his chest. “Did I just get ditched? You hurt me Jean, you know that?”

Jean chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“She had other plans. We’re cool.” He answers and take one last bite of his hotdog. “I’d better get you back to the garage before pretty boy finds you missing and gets all worried.”

Emma shrugs. “I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Colt gives her a questioning look. “Is everything okay?”

“We sort of broke up, last night. It was sort of my fault. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Only because it involved you.

Colt rubbed the back of his head. “Well good riddance.”

“Colt!”

“What? I’m just saying Em, you’re too good for him. You deserve better. I know I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it again.” He said with a sincere look on his face. “You deserve to be with someone who can give you a family and that house in the suburbs with the white picket fence. Just like you always wanted when we were kids.”

He remembered? “Colt, that’s not who I am anymore.” She replies but her expression was unconvincing. Of course that was what she still wanted, the garage was only a temporary arrangement for her to pay for her college expenses. But she never really talked to Logan about what comes after she’s done with college, does he plan on being a car thief for the rest of his life? “How do you even remember all of that? It’s been years.”

“I remember everything about you Emma Park. You’re not really an easy person to forget.” He smiled at her and it felt warm and genuine. “Okay Mr. Flatterer, what's going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s.. It’s nothing just forget about it.” She waves him off and takes one last bite of her hotdog. Maybe since he is in such a good mood, this might be the right time to ask him. “So uh.. I need a small favor from you.” He raised an eyebrow at her giving a curious look. “There’s this thing coming up this weekend. You know my cousin Amanda?”

“The one who used to babysit us when we were kids?”

“Yup the very same, well she’s getting married this weekend and I RSVP six months ago that I would be going with a plus one but then the whole thing with Logan happened so now I don’t have a plus one and that sucks because…”

“Sure I’ll go as your plus one.” He answers before she could finish her whole speech. “But I didn’t even finish talking yet.”

“Well wasn’t that what you’re going to ask me?” He raised his eyebrows and she nodded. “So you’ll do it? Just like that?”

“Sure, as long as you promise to introduce me to all the pretty hot bridesmaid that will be attending.” He grinned and Emma rolled her eyes. “Do we have a deal?”

Emma thought for a moment does she really want to see other girls fond over Colt during their time there? “It’s a deal.”

********************************************

Rod - @liamzigmichael4ever @client-327 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @lilyofchoices @rideorparadise @zaffrenotes @queenkaneko @mskaneko @pintsizedelle @flowerpowell @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @choicesbyjade @leelee10898 @herladyshipxx @emichelle @kimmiedoo5 @dawn-1994 @choicesarehard

#colt x mc #colt kaneko #rod colt #choices ride or die au #rod mona #rod logan

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