#either way love these two love this series cant wait for the next chapter oh my good golly gosh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year ago

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Im so happy you chose to drop another chapter early for us! I’ve been absolutely dying to read more. And can I just say that gif you chose 😍 his smile. Damn 🫠

So you know I’m also a fan of procedurals too and I love how you built up the firehouse in this. They do feel like such a family with the good natured bickering and I love all the personalities you managed to get in. Jack really embodied the probie perfectly with his eagerness to please and learn. Meg is certainly an interesting character. I kinda loved her sarcastic, spitfire personality. She’s definitely going to be an interesting one for sure. Intrigued to see chuck in this and again, similar to Gordon, knowing what we know about him on the show I’m intrigued as to what you’re going to do with his character.

I do wonder, because I know how clever a writer you are, is this story with Henry going to come back? Or is it just as it appears on the surface… giving jack a taste of how dark the job can be.

But deans thoughts of the reader just had me grinning so much! How he’s instantly drawn to her and the little details he fixes on. It made me all warm inside 🥰🥰

I loved the interaction between the two, the nerves and flirty banter was adorable. And the fact she baked to feed the five thousand was both hilarious and apt considering it’s the fire house.

But oh are you kidding me? This? This right here is the moment he decides to rein it in, curb his behaviour and be professional. Damn girl. You’re killing me 😂 I was sad to see Dean already assume he’s not going to be good enough, though that’s perfect for his character!

But the teasing 😂 ““Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”” I absolutely cackled at this one. I would pay to hear Meg do that impression of dean. And then benny and Gordon also didn’t disappoint… “Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).” Brilliant.

But ooh, first comment that has me wondering about Gordon… is he going to try it with the reader too? That would be interesting. Either way, I didn’t like his line and it gave such a stark contrast to deans own thoughts about her.

I love that you’ve also jumped straight into the drama. Not only do we have a murder, but a string of them and the same mark of the murderer of Mary Winchester. Damn you’re going deep here my friend and I love it. I look forward to trying to solve the case as this progresses. I do agree with Cas though, John keeping things from his boys never ends well.

Again I just want to say I’m so happy the reader has a friend like Dre. That flashback scene to Nick was foul. I’m not at all surprised he did it but it’s just such disgusting behaviour. I look forward to the reader ultimately getting the best of him as it has to happen right?

I enjoyed seeing the relationships build more with the guys. Cas and Megs relationship kinda sounds like my worst nightmare. I just couldn’t live with crazy like that 😂 it works for some I guess though lol. Love Sam and Eileen and I hope we get more of them too! I again loved the ribbing they gave him for his dating history. The carpet burns but made me laugh. Interesting about dean and jos past relationship and the reasons he backed off. I’m guessing that might get brought up again at some point…

I CANT BELIEVE YOU LEFT IT THERE. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT 😂 man it’s not even a cliffhanger yet and I’m dying for more. I just thought we were going to get some good stuff and Dean was finally going to go for it 😂🙈

I absolutely can’t wait for the next chapter. I’m hooked on this series completely already 💕 great job my friend, this was amazing!

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean couldn’t only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#fic rec #dean winchester x reader #firefighter!dean winchester x reader #lieutenant winchester #firefighter!dean winchester #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you

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tarobytez · 4 years ago

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disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant.

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist.

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is.

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”.

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me.

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.

Oh fucking boy.

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully.

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled.

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability.

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community.

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged.

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people.

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted.

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows.

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

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andromedasstarship · 4 years ago

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in the stars - chapter 5

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, angst

summary - “Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.”

a/n - i really love this chapter! cant wait to hear what yall think :DD also for reference i aged jack down just a year so hes 3 when haley passes away, about to turn 5 when reader & aaron get together. i dont claim any dialogue straight from Emma as mine! (emma dialogue is in italics)

masterlist / series masterlist / read it on ao3

chapter 4 / chapter 6

-----

You were hyper-aware of the new way the team was looking at you as you entered the conference room. You shot a very anxious glance up towards Aaron, grateful for the very brief- but soft- glance he gave you before the business side of him took over again. You could feel the ghost of his hand hovering over that protective spot on your back again as he led you up towards the table.

It felt like your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, upon seeing the seemingly endless piles of photos in front of you. Your brain was struggling to process everything that was laid out in front of you and you felt your heart rate start to pick up; seeing it in person was worse than anything your mind had created in the drive here.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes shot up to meet the voice and you saw Spencer looking down at you with a look that was just on the edge of pity. “We tried to sort the pictures into piles of time relativity. Would you be able to go through them and help us create a firmer timeline?”

You nodded at that, vaguely aware of Aaron pulling a chair out behind you. You gladly slid down into it. Seeing Emily start to pick up one pile and push them towards you made you nervously laugh, the stress of the moment and how uncomfortable you felt forcing it out. When the entire team gave you a weird look you said, “Sorry, it just reminded me of last time.”

You gently picked up the stack of photos, trying to hold them as lightly as possible. The knowledge that the unsub had packaged these himself sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was silly, but you somehow felt that by touching the photos you were somehow also touching the remnants of the unsub.

The first stack you easily dated as around four years ago, just from your hair; you’d drastically changed it for a role. You thumbed through the photos and could feel the knots in your stomach growing even tighter. Most of the photos were blurry and relatively distant from you, as if the unsub was still getting comfortable with what he was doing.

“This was four years ago, I had to change my hair for a role and I’ve never had it like that before or again.” You said quietly, pushing the pile back to Emily.

She nodded, giving you a gracious smile before pushing the next pile towards you. Your face fell immediately; something the team equated to how much more personal these set of photos seemed to be. You fanned the stack out in front of you. There weren’t many, as if even the unsub could recognize the inappropriate- ha!- nature of capturing you like this. In all of them you looked worn down, as if a cloud was following you everywhere you went.

“This was about two years ago.” You said flatly. It took a moment, but you could see everyone connect the dots in their head and suddenly the room felt very small.

Thankfully, the next pile was rather average and you guessed that this was just an ‘extra’ pile of photos that didn’t really seem to fit into a cohesive timeframe. As you scanned over them, one caught your eye and you pulled it a bit closer to you. You pointed a finger at the sign behind you.

“This is an exclusive club house, it’s difficult to get into. Security’s intense and everyone that enters has to sign in.” You informed the team. JJ reached out and grabbed the photo, putting it to the side for later.

You turned your attention back to the pile, making sure to give each photo a proper amount of attention, desperate to notice something useful.

“This one,” you said, pulling a blurry photo of yourself out of the pile. You were moving too fast for the camera to properly capture you, but you recognized the outfit. “I was wearing this the day Officer Reynolds told me you all were coming, isn’t this the outside of the station?” You said quietly.

JJ moved that photo to the ‘save for later’ pile as well. You gently re-stacked the pile and passed it towards Emily, waiting for the next one.

You watched as Emily seemed to be literally holding her tongue as she pushed the next pile towards you, a certain playful glint in her eyes. Once you were able to look at it, you couldn’t help but snort. You could feel Aaron tense up besides you, but you could find the humor in it. The ‘Aaron’ pile.

You fanned the stack out like you had done with the others, giving special attention to the details behind you. These were much more difficult to place and a much smaller pile, considering how careful the two of you had been.

“These must’ve been in DC?” You questioned, not really expecting an answer. You looked up towards Aaron, raising an eyebrow as if to give him the opportunity to share his thoughts. “Whenever he came to LA, I had an iron grip on our security but it was a whole different field in DC-”

Your sentence fell flat as your eyes went wide, nearly surging out of your seat up towards Aaron. He gave you a worried look, unable to place the sudden anxiety that had taken over you. “What about Jack?” You asked worriedly, “if he knows about you he must’ve found out about Ja-”

Aaron stopped you, putting a very gentle hand on the top of your shoulder, “He’s okay, I promise.” He said, using his hand to lightly push you back into a seated position. You nodded at that, eyes still wide, but your body seemed to deflate, the tension slowly leaving you.

The rest of the team was quiet, recognizing the personal nature of the interaction. But it was impossible for them not to notice the way your bodies reacted to each other. The way your body’s natural response to a stressor had been to move closer to him and the way he angled himself in a protective stance around you near simultaneously.

Emily pushed the final pile in front of you and you couldn’t help the corners of your lips pull up in a soft smile. You fanned out the stack of photos, taking a good look at all of them. They all seemed to either be promo photos or film photos of your time filming Mamma Mia in Greece.

“This is definitely from Greece. But some of these are definitely promo photos, it’s why I’m ‘posing’ in a few of them.” You said, pushing out one that visually made your point.

“What about this one? It feels a lot more intimate than a promotional piece.” Emily asked, pulling one out from the stack. In it, you were standing on the dock, face close to the camera. You had a big smile on your face and your thumbs up.

“On set, we had a handful of little disposable cameras that everyone could use.”

“Do you have any memory of who owned the cameras?”

“I…,” you paused, eyebrows scrunched tightly in thought, “I don’t know. The studio distributed all the photos after the movie came out. They’re pretty public at this point, it was five years ago.” You said weakly, feeling really disappointed in your lack of help. “I’m sorry.” You added.

Morgan stepped up closer to the table. “Don’t be okay? Now we know that the unsub has connections in Hollywood and we know he must be wealthy enough to fly to DC on a whim if he thought you were there. That helps narrow things down.” He assured you.

“Are there any specific photographers that you’ve noticed? Or any guy you feel like you’ve seen too many times and it’s no longer a coincidence?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head quickly. “I’m really used to cameras flashing in my face.” You said impishly. “I can remember a lot of fans that I meet, but if it’s just someone behind a camera I don’t think I’d really notice it at all.”

You felt Aaron move away from you and towards the computer at the end of the table. He clicked a few buttons and suddenly a woman's face popped up on the screen. You recognized her immediately from all the stories and photos you’d seen. Penelope.

Aaron brought the computer closer to where you were and her mouth dropped open for the second time today.

“Oh my god! Hi! Wow! I am, I am such a fan. I just-, you’re always so-”

“Garcia.” Aaron interjected but you raised your hand at him, giving him a ‘shoo’ gesture. The rest of the team had to stifle their laughter.

“Hi, Penelope right? I’ve heard so much about you.” You said sweetly, leaning a bit closer to the camera.

“Wow! Okay, I can’t believe this is-”

“Garcia, I need you to pull up visitor logs from a clubhouse that Y/N used to visit. I want you to cross reference it with other visitor logs of recent film sets she’s been on and her housing development. She’ll be able to give you a more comprehensive list.” Aaron interjected, and this time you let him.

You turned back to the screen, giving Garcia another smile. “The clubhouse is called Royal Blue, the picture couldn’t have been more than…, I think three years ago? But I’m not sure.”

“Alright…, okay the visitor logs seem to be locked tight, but never too tight for me. What are some of those movie sets?”

“The earliest photo is what? Five years ago?” You asked, looking around at the agents for approval. “Yeah, five years. So Mamma Mia, to start, Little Women. I’m working on Emma right now.” You droned, listing various movie sets you’d worked on in the past five years.

“Oh my god! I have so many questions about Mamma Mia. Like what was it-,” Garcia’s question trailed off as she caught sight of Hotch giving her a firm stare from behind you. “Right sorry, alright. I will break into the clubhouse and cross reference all of these lists to see if anyone comes up more than once. It was so nice meeting you, I hope we get to-. Alright, hanging up now!” Garcia said in a rushed voice. You watched her click a button on her end and the screen went black.

You leaned back into your chair, staring up at the rest of the team . “So…,” you said, drawing out the word, “what now?”

-----

“What are you doing?” Aaron’s asked, voice coming out from behind you.

You comically froze, hand just short of picking your keys up from the table. You slowly turned to face him, straightening your tote bag over your shoulder. “Oh! There you are, I was just on my way to come find you.” You said lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the room. Aaron didn’t say anything, waiting for you to go on. “Johnny and I have plans tonight.” You said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

On your part, you’d already forgotten about the whole ‘I’m on a date’ aspect on your earlier phone call with Aaron. In your mind, there wasn’t anything inherently suspicious about you going to spend time with him in the evening.

Aaron was viewing the entire situation in a very different light. When he had first come around the corner, he noticed how nice you looked. When the two of you had finally returned to your place you immediately went up to your room, disappearing for quite some time. He had originally thought maybe you were upset, the cognitive interview hadn’t revealed anything and even though he knew you didn’t really believe in their accuracy, he also knew how badly you wanted to be of ‘use’ for the case.

In your time upstairs, you had changed your outfit and styled your hair just enough to give it that ‘unstyled-styled’ look. It’s not like you were glammed out or anything, the only reason you’d put on a nice outfit was on the off chance you were photographed- hopefully not by the unsub-, on your way into Johnny’s apartment.

“And what is it that you’re supposed to be doing?” Aaron asked, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.

“Um, nothing much,” You said with an awkward laugh, when he was still looking at you expectantly you tilted your head. “I’m supposed to go to his place and we’re gonna run lines for the scenes we’re filming this week.” You explained.

“I can’t endorse you going out at night. Especially to someone’s home that we don’t have eyes on.” Aaron said firmly.

You rolled your eyes at that, picking up your keys. “Johnny’s fine, he’s been in the same place as me when nearly all the bodies were discovered.” You argued, putting one hand on your hip.

“With the recent development in the cases, I can’t let you do this.”

You started to walk towards him, intending to go around him. “Aaron-”

His hand shot out and gently grabbed you by the arm, stopping you from getting past him.

“Hey!-”

“Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.”

Your mouth fell open slightly in a mild form of shock. ‘We’re just running lines, I really need-”

“I’ll do it with you.” Aaron interjected hurriedly. “We’ve done it before, I’m not too bad at it, huh?” He said teasingly.

You pondered that for a minute. You and Aaron had run lines together plenty of times in the past, it was always something you got a kick out of, seeing Aaron try and morph into whatever character he was reading for. And while it wouldn’t be as productive as running them with your actual co-star, you reasoned it’d still be good enough. And as much as you hated to admit it, Aaron probably had a point about you not going out, especially in the evening.

“Fine. I just need to go call Johnny and tell him something came up.” You huffed, pretending to be more annoyed than you were.

“Here,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out your script, “I already have most of my lines memorized, I’ll just need you to fill in if I miss any. I have a pink sticky note denoting the scene we were going to start with. You’re reading as Knightely. I’ll meet you in the living room, alright?” You said, pushing the script into his hands as you walked around him towards the kitchen, pulling your phone out at the same time.

----

“No, I’m just saying I think it’d be more believable or whatever if we did a few more like nonchalant meals before like, running errands together or something, ya know?” You said lazily into the phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder as you used your hands to mix up a drink for yourself. Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the Dalmore. You reached out with one hand and carefully pulled it down, still remembering exactly how Aaron liked to take a drink.

“What meal really screams ‘we’re dating’? Dinner? That’s like the longest meal of the day, that’s gotta show some sort of commitment.” Johnny asked.

“Hm…,” you droned, “well we just had a lunch. If we want to kick it into high gear, we should do breakfast. Perfect ‘just spent the night’ remedy.” You said with a snort.

Aaron cleared his throat behind you and the sound made you jump. You pulled the phone away from your ear and saw you’d been blabbering for nearly half an hour.

‘Oh. Sorry.’ You mouthed to Aaron, before pulling the phone back to your ear. “Hey Johnny gotta go, but we’ll figure it out later! Yeah…, for sure, bye!” You hung up and placed your phone on the counter. Then you grabbed the drink you had poured for him, holding it out.

“It’s Dalmore.” You said plainly.

“I’m working.” He responded.

You rolled your eyes at that and held it out more aggressively. “Take it.”

You watched happily as he begrudgingly took it out of your hand, though you knew it wasn’t too difficult for him. You picked up your own glass and tucked your phone into the waistband of your pants. “Ready? Sorry, got carried away.”

While the two of you walked back into your living room, it was obvious something was bothering Aaron. You briefly wondered if something had developed in the case that he wasn’t telling you.

‘What is it?” You asked.

He looked down at you, confused. “What is what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you have a tell.” You explained, stopping to look up at him.

“I do not have a tell.” Hotch replied annoyedly.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you want to be a baby about it, fine you don’t have a tell. Tell me what’s wrong anyway.”

“I’m trying to understand why you lied about not having a boyfriend nor seeing anyone recently. We’ll need to fully vet Johnny and look into his files, even if you don’t see it becoming serious.” Aaron near spat.

You snorted. “What do you mean lied?”

“You very clearly told me you weren’t seeing anyone, yet today has proven those claims to be false.”

“I know that sometimes, I like to be a huge pain but I’m serious, what are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Your co-star, Johnny? You told me you were on a date with him today. I just heard you on the phone make plans to stay with him overnight. I saw the pictures of-”

“Stop! Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually believed that.” You said, unable to hold back the laughter that bubbled out of you.

“Believed it? You’re the only who told me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed you read through the lines. Johnny and I have been going on publicity dates. We’re just friends.”

“What were you supposed to be doing tonight then?”

“We were legitimately going to run lines. Maybe get ice cream, we’re trying to determine the best ice cream in LA.”

That’d explain the outfit, Aaron thought.

“And the phone call I just heard?”

“We were debating which meal screams ‘dating’. He thinks it’s dinner. I think it’s breakfast, ya know, cause it implies you spent the night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that, before.”

“Don’t you remember when I had kinda the same thing with Timothee during Little Women? They made us hang out a bunch so the tabloids could just do their thing. I just assumed you’d fill in the blanks.”

Aaron was staring at you as if you had two heads. It was almost like you could see the gears turning in that head of his. Internally, he was more than embarrassed for how upset he’d gotten over the idea of you with someone else.

When it seemed that Aaron had nothing else to say, you started to walk again, not stopping until you were both back in your living room. You plopped down in ‘your spot’ on the couch, playfully patting the space a few cushions down that Aaron typically sat in.

“Crack open that script, I hope you looked through it. If you’re making me stay home, you better be useful!” You said pleasantly, trying to change the atmosphere into something more playful.

Aaron awkwardly sat himself down on the couch next to you, picking the script back up. As you watched him flip the script open and further acquaint himself with the lines you couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in your chest. It was such an unavoidable reminder of the way the two of you used to run lines together when you were still dating. You had learned early on that Aaron best showed his affection through acts of service and he actually wasn’t that bad at delivering a line. Since the two of you were rarely together in person- it’s not like you’d let him waste a visit with you building a shelf or running an errand-, running lines with you was the easiest way for him to feel useful.

-----

Four Years Ago

“Okay Jack, you ready?” You asked, smiling down at the young boy standing across from you. He was dressed up in his winter clothes, despite the blazing heat of the summer. You and Aaron had tried to talk him out of it, but he demanded it’d be the only way for him to fully get into character. And who were you two to deny him? The sweet boy nodded, barely being able to contain his excitement as he bounced up and down on his feet.

“Alright, places everyone!” You yelled out, holding the diy paper clapperboard Jack had made for you. You held it out from your body and did a very exaggerated clapping motion. “Action!” You said, quickly throwing the clapperboard to the couch.

“Carrots!” Jack said, his voice more than enthusiastic for the role.

“Huh?” You said, heavily overselling your voice and reaction. Even with the one simple word, Jack was already in giggles, struggling to keep it together.

He leaned in closer to you, standing up on his tiptoes. “Behind you!”

“Oh! Right, excuse me.” You said, stepping to the side and gesturing to the ‘carrots’ behind you.

You made your voice really low to play the next part. “Woh, a real howler in July, yea? Where ever could it be coming from?” You asked, placing your chin in between your thumb and pointer finger.

Jack kept giggling at your ‘deep’ voice, he held his ‘script’ up to his face to read his next line. “The North Mountain.”

You jokingly ran a hand in front of your face, signaling a character switch. “North Mountain.” You stage whispered. You ran your hand in front of your face again, going serious. “That’ll be forty.” You said, holding your hand out with a ‘gimme’ gesture.

Jack smacked your hand gently to ‘give you’ the money. But after his face fell ever so slightly. “Can we skip to when Daddy gets to come in??” He asked, giving you those big eyes you couldn’t possibly say no to.

You stood back, putting your weight on your back leg with one hand on your hip. “Hmm.., I think that could be arranged.” You reached over to grab the clapperboard. “Alright everyone! Back to places, but let’s start at ‘Hi everyone’, okay?”

Jack nodded excitingly and turned back to where he knew Aaron was standing, partially hidden by the hallway. “Places daddy!” He urged, pointing to where he should come stand.

Aaron came out from around the corner and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the laughter. Aaron had a big white hat on his head and had let Jack put a small orange dot on his nose. You and Jack had definitely double teamed poor Aaron, dragging him into your little ‘movie game’ as Jack liked to call it. The three of you had started doing this a few months ago, Jack loved ‘running lines’ with you and you were more than happy to oblige him. It had started when a sleepy Jack had stumbled into the living room one night when he couldn’t sleep and he saw you and Aaron running lines for one of your other movies. Jack had taken to it so much you ended up ‘hiring’ him to help you with your more child friendly roles.

“Alright, alright. Quiet on set!” You said, making a big deal of you bringing your index finger up to your lips in a ‘shush’ motion. “Action!”

“Hi everyone. I’m Olaf. And I like warm hugs.” Aaron recited robotically , very clear that he was reading directly from the paper. You smacked your hand back over your mouth, unable to control the giggles. Once you started laughing, Jack fell into his own fit of laughter; both of you fueled off the others amusement.

Of course, when you finally pulled yourself back together, a quick look at the way Aaron was standing with fake annoyance across his face and his arms crossed tightly against his chest sent you back into fits of laughter.

“Are you two done?” Aaron asked, no true malice in his voice.

It was rare that the three of you all got to spend time together. He’d been wary of introducing you to Jack. It wasn’t really a ‘you’ thing, but it was more of how Jack would be able to deal with it. There were the typical worries, what if you and Jack didn’t get along? Or what if you two did get along really well but then you and Aaron broke up and it hurt him even further? While you never intended to try and replace his ‘mom’, you still worried that your chaotic schedule would somehow hurt him, skewing his perception of yet another ‘parental’ figure. Not to mention the issues with him being able to keep your identity and presence in his life a secret; he wouldn’t even be able to tell people like Uncle Rossi that his dad was seeing someone.

But now, you’d been with Aaron for over two years. And Jack had known about you for about a year now. And everything had been going perfect. Jack was a stellar secret keeper, the unfortunate events of his childhood maturing him faster than any child deserved and he was able to fully understand the importance of the situation. The two of you had taken to each other quite quickly and every night the three of you would have a ‘bedtime’ call; even on the nights when Aaron was busy with a case you’d still call Jack on your own. You loved spoiling him with whatever hot new toy was popular among kids his age or getting him special early copies of movies before they came out. Aaron used to get on you about it, saying it wasn’t necessary, but you argued it was the most necessary thing in the world.

And now here the three of you were. Nestled away in Aaron’s apartment in DC. You had just flown in after wrapping up a shoot abroad and were just in time for the start of summer. Even though your career was at a seemingly new high, you had managed to secure a relatively empty summer. After long consideration and planning you and Aaron decided it’d be a nice treat for Jack to go spend a month or so with you in LA. You’d consulted heavily with many of your friends who kept their children completely hidden from the spotlight and had hired an airtight security team to assist you the entire time. Aaron was supposed to come out when he could, but you were all aware of how turbulent his poor schedule could be. Schedule permitting, you all would spend the next three days at Aaron’s apartment before you and Jack took off.

“Daddy! You sound like a robot.” Jack said, scolding Aaron. His voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked down at him with a big smile.

“Daddy’s just no good at this huh?” You asked, shaking your head. “He’s no match for our talent, Jack!”

“This is really hot.” Jack said, holding up his arms. He must’ve been sweating his butt off in all those winter layers.

“You’re kidding me! I wonder who could’ve seen that coming.” You said sarcastically, reaching over to pull off his big hat and zip down the first of multiple jackets he put on. “I’ve heard that ice cream cools you down…,”

“Ice cream!’ Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He didn’t even look to his father for ‘permission’, knowing by now you had the most sway in the house.

“Go put on some normal clothes okay? Wouldn’t be fun if you passed out in your ice cream bowl, huh?” You told him, ruffling his hair before he dipped under your arm, making a mad dash for his room.

“He hasn’t even had lunch yet, you know that right?” Aaron asked, giving you a fake stern look as he walked over to where you were standing.

You rolled your eyes at that, reaching up to snatch the white hat off his head, letting your arms fall loosely around his neck. “Does it upset you that I’m always the cool one?” You asked teasingly, reaching up on your tiptoes to press the gentlest kiss on his lips.

He gave you one of his small smiles, reaching down to press a second kiss to your lips. “How was your flight in?” He asked, one of his hands wrapping protectively around your waist as the other one found its way by your hair, gently stroking down it the way you liked.

You let your head relax against his touch and pretended to think for a moment. Instead of answering you reached up again, pressing your lips against his, pressing yourself closer to him. You both thought you could stay this way forever; it being the first time you saw each other, in person, in nearly two months.

“Gross!” Jack’s voice seemingly cut through the two of you. Aaron was the one to pull away first, quietly laughing so only you could hear.

“Later.” He promised in a whisper.

You loosened your grip on him, turning to face Jack. “Oh Jack! Funny seeing you here, ice cream, right?”

-----

Present Day.

“Page 103, right?” He asked, skipping to the bright pink sticky note you had used as a place marker.

You jolted out of your memories, feeling the heat rise up your neck as you prayed it wasn’t too obvious you had just completely zoned out.

“Yep!” You squeaked out, “page 103, line 19, you start.” You said, waving your hands.

“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my enemy, you will not ask me why, you are, you are determined, I see, to have no curiosity but I cannot be wise-” He started, keeping his eyes near glued to the page.

You frowned, shaking your head a bit. “Stand up.” You ordered, already getting to your feet.

“Excuse me?” Aaron asked.

“Stand up,” you repeated, motioning upwards with your palms. “This,” you said, motioning between the two of you, “doesn’t feel right if we’re seated, we’re supposed to move around in this scene, it’s supposed to be painful.” You explained.

He slowly stood up, looking at you for permission to start again.

“From where you left off, please.”

“I must tell you, Emma, what you will not ask! Though I may wish it unsaid the next moment-”

“So do not speak it.” You cut in. “If you wish to speak to me, as a friend or to ask my opinion as a friend I will hear whatever you like.”

“As a friend, Emma. That I fear is a word, tell me Emma. Have I no chance of ever succeeding?” He asked, looking up at you for further approval, you nodded and he continued. “My dearest Emma, my dearest, you will always be my dearest most beloved Emma, tell me at once. I cannot make speeches, if I, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more-”

“Let’s do a different part, yeah?” You interrupted, voice incredibly tight. You ducked from his gaze, reaching to bring your glass to your lips.

“Isn’t this the scene you have to practice?” Aaron asked, raising his brow at you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, taking a long sip, “any practice as the character will be helpful.”

“If this is the one that’s troubling you, we should go over it.” He pressed.

“Page 56, start at line 9.” You ordered, throwing back the rest of your glass. “Read it over, I’ll be back.”

Before you could fully turn to go and refill your glass, Aaron lunged forward and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him. The sudden movement caused you to stumble, throwing your hands out to steady yourself against his chest.

“You’ve been drinking a lot.” He stated, repositioning his grip on your arm.

“Am I not allowed to have a drink or two in my own home?” You challenged.

“What are you running away from?” Aaron asked, his voice so gentle it made your knees weak.

“You.” You whispered, after a long pause. You looked up at him with sad eyes and only found confusion in his. “I can’t, I-, don’t you see how funny it is? Your character is desperate for mine to be with and my character is the one to deny yours.”

Your confession pulled sharply on his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not sure there were any words to appropriately apologize for how he had treated you.

“Why didn’t you ever call?” You asked, voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

“I, I-” He stuttered, unable to think of an answer fast enough.

“I waited for weeks,” you said, looking up at him with a look that nearly brought him to his knees. “I waited so long and you never called.”

He brushed the hair out of your face, letting his hand fall gently against your cheek. His thumb caught a stray tear that had started to fall, softly brushing it away. “I don’t know.” He responded, his voice as quiet as your. “I don’t know, you didn’t deserve that.”

You pressed your face into his hand, closing your eyes as you felt more tears managing to sneak past you. He was finally admitting words you had dreamed of hearing for years, but yet you were unable to find any joy in them.

“You didn’t deserve that.” He repeated, sliding his hand towards the back of your head, pulling you firmly against his chest, while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You let your body relax into his, slowly bringing your own arms up loosely around his neck.

You felt him gently press the faintest of kisses to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry angel.” He mumbled into your hair.

You pulled your head out from under him, looking up at him with big eyes. The two of you were silent, basking in each other's presence. Your eyes flickered down to his lips multiple times; something he duly picked up on. Just as you began to push up on your toes, nearly pressing your lips to his, eyes half closed in anticipation, his phone rang out.

You froze, falling back onto your heels with a small sigh. “Answer it, I’m getting a refill.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. He gave you an uncertain look, as if he wanted to pull you back in and ignore the call completely.

You wagged a finger in front of him, shaking your head. In on fluid movement, you grabbed your glass and nearly ran out of the room

-----

It took you ten minutes to calm yourself down and another five to hype yourself up to return to your living room. And that was after you had made yourself a new drink.

When you entered the living room, Aaron’s back was to you; still locked on the phone. The tension was clear in his shoulders and your eyes drifted down to his free hand that you knew would be clenched in a fist. It was.

“Thank you Garcia, tell the team we’ll be there soon.” He said, pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging up.

“Aaron?” You asked.

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen some of the tension from his shoulders for your benefit. He slowly turned back towards you, his face pulled in frustration.

“LAPD just reported another body.”

-------

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semi-imaginary-place · 4 years ago

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the weight of time, the other side, enemy 6. webtoons up to the other side 10

alright back to kubera, timey wimey shenanigans and maruna growing a conscious.

so kuberas one of those series where spoilers dont change the experience so i knew yaksha was going to show up but ah im so excited yaksha and og airavata??? thank you currygom. oh yeah and we got more on brilith's soul's past i guess.

huh so the ancient human cycle of reincarnation is breaking down. ptsd is being inherited across lives. humans were suppose to regain memories of their past lives when their minds and bodies were fully matured but violent deaths are leading to them regaining their memories before their minds are ready to deal with the trauma and as a result instead trraging each life seperately like we saw with the humans maruna interacted with, the humans ran meets there is no seperation between one life and the next its bluring together and thr grudges are growing as people life out the past. I love it!

...thats ananta. damn currygom is going HARD this arc, all the big names are here. also i just love ananta, yaksha, and og airavata having a breakfast club. ananta is half way to having the dead anime mom hair but joking aside the two foofy braids are super cute. currygom.... why you keep killing off all the nice ones... oh no yaksha has bad regeneration doesnt he... ok i just spent a week with a literal toddler and yeah gandharva

ok i cant tell how much of this heart talk is metaphorical and how much is literal ie yaksha physical heart is effecting ran emotionally. now that i think about it why is hanuman in their female form in the current timeline. wait maruna couldnt interact with another alive in the current time but ran can? i love yaksha why are all my favorite characters doomed. LET ME PROTECT THE CUTE OLD MAN. he's even white haired, has a tail, and is fluffy! fluffy! ran is watee attribute like yaksha too. wait i just remembered samphati told maruna that ideally a natiska parent would mentor a 5th stage rakshasa since 5th stage vigor and what not works more like a natuska and isnt that what yaksha is doing for ran. oh so this is what they meant by suras natures are to destroy. natiskas take of their attribues and astika create

ah so ran's half phobia isn't just trauma from the cataclysm but being afraid of himself. yeah where'd the wind transcendendal come from, ran is water water water

oh wow that experiment was more important than i thought. everyone is there

ooh naver commenter pointed out how sura sometimes scheme names their kids and raltara's parents name might be taraka the natiska name kali took to make yuta

this cute old man is bad for my heart. also ananta is precious. maruna continues to underestimate people but i will say him mistaking to most powerful being to have ever exisged in the universe for a 4th stage rakshasa ia pretty funny.

yaksha is basically a catboy. that explains a lot actually.

im enjoying the characterization of sagara. to sagara power is everything. ananta just wants everyone to be happy, he's uncomfortable with exterminating the ancient humans but he'll do it for sagara. this isnt true to himself or what he wants but he'll be what those around him want him to be. oh wow so the name/role of ananta was designed to take on a portion of every sin ever in the universe. also callback to brilith's conversations on whether its better to have gods that are too weak to do anything or have the power but choose not to help. oh shit and by brahma asking his consent in the destruction of the ancient humans (and ensuring it via sagara) she ensured the sins of killing them would fall on to him.

oh and somethings up with tilda but we dont know what yet. shes going to be important

where is marunas coat? mmmm head hurts... so gods forget things so that they arent weighted down by desires and reach the top/enlightenment. but once they reach the top the dont have to keep forgetting? about doomed willarav(??) all the deaths are turning point in which the characters didin't choose compassion. this is also the outcome that kali averted. ok im with maruna ran is giving me bad vibes. oooooo the maruna ran raltara gandharva situation! the tension! the drama! i was so caught up if the eye of punishment was going to be used by maruna or shess that a couple years ago i didnt even consider the possibility of a new character.

we also see the payoffs of the weight of time and the other side as well ran and maruna have come to see things from the other side (sura and humans). as others have pointed out maruna has spent several millennia among humans and discarded the sura cultural mentalities taught to him (obey superiors, no compassion etc which we see directly in his confrontation with samphati but everywhere after this time adventure) and taken a mentality closer to that of the first ancient humans. if humans using silent magic is said to lessen their humanity and make them more like sura ruthless calculating and cold, the maruna has become more human. the opposite is true of ran having spent many years living as a rakshasa and living far beyond a human lifespn. literally he has become more in tune with his sura side coming to terms with his grand parent being hanuman, yaksha's heart within him, and his power which killed his mother and he attacked the two next most important people to him lutz and rana. silent magic was said to need a desire for power, a lack of compassion for ones enemies, and a willingness to give up everything for one's goals. and mentally his mindset has been shifting from that of a humans to the one we usually see in sura. remember when he was introduced ran was the nicest character in the cast after leez.

so god kubera put the konchez party in a transcendental to stop their minds from merging with the maruna and ran of the current chapter. but thats what made them too late to stop taraka dying and 4th stage yuta. unless they wouldn't have made it aahhhhhhhh my head hurts i infinite possibilities gah! time travel! anyways but im still not sure what god kubera wants to begin with. wait no the mental transcendental preserved the minds of their former selves. the merge did happen that's how the clothes got "restored". oh yeah i forgot former kubera drew the sword of re before giving it to leez.

one of the currygom afterwords or something mentioned it but there's many more characters recently that do not neatly fit into the established boxes. perhaps its because at the beginning and and ending of the universe reality is looser. we have confirmation that yaksha clan bunny girl petupan that ran met has a chaos attribute but other sura we have met has chaos-ish aspects to them like other bunnygirl sona who maybe could be petupan's daughter? curiosly hanuman has a weird left arm when ran met him but doesnt in the modern day. then there's taraka that maintained their minds and forms like samphati and makara. then we have ran whos a human rakshasa (hanuman wondering if they forgot about a child with yaksha is still funny)

3-195 the other side 13 is the last we see maruna with his red fluffy coat in a flashback with raltara. it isnt seen until maruna goes to the abandoned timeline or n23

its probably intentional on currygoms part that yaksha's source attribute is water and that the inheritor of his heart ran was born with 3 water attributes. the interesting part is when ran starts using wind transcendentals and hanuman's source attribute is wind. so its almost as if he were a rakshasa with light as a clan attribute and water and wind as heteditary attributes. what im not sure of is in the fight with maruna ran seems to use some sort of lightning based attack and i cant quite remember so he either mixed partial surification with divine magic, has a sky attribute???? or there's sky transcendentals that dont require an attribute?

the abyss is the water channel of th sura realm?? omg and maruna cant remember the thing in the abyss that was chasing them because its existence has been replaced with yuta.

#kubera #one last god kubera #kubera one last god #currygom

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 10/10 (Taywhora) - Juno

Chapter Summary: The three finalists are just three challenges away from the end of the Bake Off, and the reunion with their fellow competitors, families, and friends at the finale garden party. The Signature and Technicals will be the hardest yet, and the Showstopper will ensure the three finalists bare a slice of their hearts to the country. But who will take the winning cake stand?

A/N: I have been utterly blown away by the support and comments I’ve had for this fic on tumblr and AO3! Huge big thank you to everyone who has cheered me on with this. For ease, the finale and epilogue are in one here (but are split on AO3). I hope to be back soon with some short stuff for rare pair challenge! xo Juno

WEEK 10: GRAND FINALE

Aurora felt like she didn’t sleep all week back in Worksop, and now, the night before she had to take the train down south to film the grand finale, the very idea seemed virtually impossible. Her body and her mind tossed and turned, every time she closed her eyes she saw cakes and breads and pastries and all sorts of things she was sure she’d never have any desire to eat again.

She had no time to think about Tayce, but Tayce had found her way in through the cracks in her mind while she had practised. Gone from the tent, but not gone from her life. And her last act in the tent had been to give Aurora five words that had rung like a melody in her head ever since.

You can win this, bitch.

She reached for her phone in the darkness, and it said it was half past one in the morning. She’d have to get up in three hours to get ready, before she headed out for the train. Lawrence would already be on the sleeper train, and Veronica was probably getting up at around the same time. But as she opened their own three-way chat, she found both Lawrence and Veronica were also messaging at silly time in the morning.

They weren’t sleeping either. Aurora understood why now.

Sure, she’d see Tayce again this weekend at the grand finale garden party. But her departure still replayed in her head.

Why did I end up this reliant on her anyway? I can bake without her. I’ve done it for years!

But this wasn’t just baking. It wasBake Off. It was surreal, intangible. It defied gravity. How many times had Aurora had to anchor herself to Tayce to keep herself from floating away?

Her phone came up with a notification from Lawrence.

Lawrence:why tf ru awake

The irony of Lawrence’s message was not lost on Aurora.

Aurora:your meant to be on the sleeper train Aurora: sleeper Aurora: clue is in the name Lawrence: yh but its stopped Lawrence: we’re in carlisle Aurora: what’s it like in Carlisle x Lawrence: dark

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it tickled her far more than it should, and she found herself laughing far too hard at the message.

Aurora: how much ru lookin forward to this bein over now x Lawrence: oh loads babes Lawrence: cant wait to bring that cake stand to Glasgow x Veronica:keep dreaming Lawrence Aurora: unlikely lol x

On second thoughts, the teasing and the laughter were a balm for her worried mind right now, and Aurora found she was laughing more than she had all week at their conversation.

Sleep is overrated anyway.

——

The tent looked huge and imposing, but Aurora was still not at the front to her relief. If Lawrence had gone home last week - not that Aurora had ever expected her to - Aurora thought she would have squirmed at the front under the gaze of the judges. Especially now, with just the three of them left, their voices echoing like a vast cave, all of their heartbeats just sounding amplified as they hammered against their ribs.

It’s the finale. I made it.

Aurora glanced at the two badges she’d won. The same amount as Lawrence, with Veronica having one to her name. But as they’d seen from previous series, the amount of times someone had won Star Baker was not an indicator as to who would win the whole thing. But it certainly gave both her and Lawrence a minor edge, and both of them a swell in their chests.

Everything felt new and fresh. Lawrence had re-dyed her hair, blue this time, the vibrant colour almost a distraction in itself. Veronica had new black nails which she tapped on the workbench, and her roots had been redone. Aurora hadn’t thought to do any of that, so she was pleased to still be at the back.

Her turquoise KitchenAid still glistened like new, the workbench sparkled with the glassy varnish, and the cupboards and shelves around in their pastel colours made the summer air feel all the more fresh and clean. She glanced over at Veronica, her own green KitchenAid in the same state, and Lawrence’s Cadbury purple one too.

I wonder if I can pinch the KitchenAid after filming without the crew noticing.

——

Signature: 12 iced doughnuts - 6 ring, 6 filled

If there was one thing Aurora hated doing, it was piping filling into something as fiddly as a doughnut. They’d have to cool down, be hollowed, and then filled, a really fiddly process.

It was the hardest day in the tent by far. The morning was rainy, light rain that almost felt like it wasn’t there, and the air was sticky and humid, pushing the temperature in the tent up, especially with the deep fat fryers they’d been provided for the doughnuts.

Aurora chewed her lip so hard that it bled, piping mixture, watching them all closely in the deep fat fryer, filling up her jam piping bag and spinning it so tightly that it threatened to burst and cover her in sticky apricot jam.

In front of her, Lawrence groaned a few times as she battled against the heat and the doughnuts as they spat in the fryer, while Veronica was wringing her hands at the dough as it came out of her own fryer.

“Too soft,” she muttered, followed by “God, too hard,” at the next batch.

By the time judging came, with Prue back from her illness this week, Aurora had almost forgotten what she’d flavoured them with, but she wasn’t alone. Across from her, Veronica stuttered as she spoke about her doughnuts, while Lawrence just pushed her hair back at the question.

“Don’t know,” she’d mused to the judges, some of the old humour returning to her voice. “Started making them, had a breakdown, and here they are. Enjoy!”

The judges all laughed, but Aurora caught a glint in Lawrence’s eye, and the same thought passed between them both.

It’s not a lie!

All of them had similar critiques. Unanimously told they had good flavours, good bakes, and good designs, it was becoming virtually impossible to differentiate between them. How were they going to decide a winner?

“How are they going to do this?” Veronica said aloud to the room, as they sat in Norton Hall (not Carr Hall, Aurora said to herself) waiting for the Technical challenge to begin.

“Not a fucking clue.” Lawrence sighed.

“Are any of you thinking about today though?” Aurora asked. “Are you just thinking about the Showstopper tomorrow too?”

Lawrence and Veronica both nodded slowly, none of them looking at each other.

“Are you all … doing the same thing as I am?”

Lawrence and Veronica just continued nodding.

None of them even needed to say a word. They all knew.

——

Technical: Victoria Sponge (no recipe)

Technical sounded daunting at first glance, but Aurora tried to reason with her worried mind. Baking a Vicky sponge from scratch with no instructions? Please. Aurora baked a Vicky sponge twice a month for the local shelter. She could probably have done it in her sleep.

But the pressure cooker of the tent just made everything go up in smoke in her brain.

Her nan’s voice rang in her head for the proportions that she used to use. Two, two, two, and two eggs. But two what? Two cake tins? Two bowls? Two competitors? No, two pounds. When would her nan come into the new millennium and learn that no one talked about measurements in pounds and ounces any more?

“Lawrence?” She leaned forward.

“Alright, babes?”

“How much is two pounds in grams again?”

Lawrence was frowning. “What?”

“Please - just tell me. I know it’s a competition and all -“

“I’m not trying to stitch you up hen, I genuinely don’t know, I don’t use pounds and ounces because I entered the twenty-first century a while back.” Lawrence shook her head, holding her hands up in surrender. “What do you need it for anyway?”

“Recipe,” Aurora said, her already-hammering heart feeling like it could break her ribs.

“What’s up, love?” That was Veronica’s voice. Aurora closed her eyes, wracking her brain, but Lawrence’s voice pierced the gloom.

“How much is a pound in grams, d’you know?”

“Yeah,” came Veronica’s in response, “a pound is about four hundred and fifty grams. Y’know, you can also go the other way. A kilo is two point two pounds. What do you need that for, yours is already whisking?”

“No, Rory’s having a meltdown, and not with the butter.”

Jesus Dawn French Christ, Lawrence.

A hand met her shoulder, and Aurora was astonished to see Veronica at her side.

“You alright, love?”

She held her gaze for a long time, unflinching, but her eyes were softer than ever, and her hand was surprisingly warm and calming as she rubbed Aurora’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Just - this,” Aurora waved her hands, encompassing the whole tent. Maybe that was absurd to an outside observer, but Veronica knew. Veronica understood.

“I looked at your instagram,” Veronica said quietly, “and I know you bake cakes loads, so I know you can knock this one right out of the park, alright? And you know that too. I mean, I can’t remember a thing about making jam now! And I’m probably going overboard with my sugar. But hey, it’s the finale! I can’t be sent home now!”

Veronica shrugged, her face split in a grin that bordered on maniacal, and Aurora had to admit that she had a point. She took a shaky inhale, then let it out.

“Look, I know you miss Tayce,” Veronica dropped her voice even lower, her hand squeezing her shoulder now, “because I’ve missed Tia since alt week. And we know Lawrence is missing Ellie, even though she’d probably rather move to London and take up Morris dancing than admit that.”

“You say that, but I can do that accent, I’ve watched Eastenders,” Lawrence called over her shoulder. “And I won’t be any worse than Dick Van Dyke.”

“We’re all missing everyone,” Veronica said, and Aurora knew she didn’t mean everyone, “but you don’t need Tayce to be able to bake. You can do it on your own. You’ve done it loads before this show, and you’ll do it again!”

“I can’t,” Aurora heard her fear contradict her in a whisper.

“You can,” Veronica said firmly, her gaze now stern. “You can do this.”

Aurora took a deep breath, held for four, and let it out for five.

“I can.”

“That’s it, love,” Veronica said, nodding and starting to walk away.

——

“Here’s to the last time we’re here as a three,” Aurora said, raising her glass along with Lawrence and Veronica. One of the producers had brought in a bottle of champagne, and even though Aurora didn’t really like the bubbles very much - they tickled her nose - she accepted the glass that was poured for her.

“How much does everyone remember about today?” Veronica asked, her arms and legs crossed on the sofa. “Because I can’t remember a bloody thing. I can’t even remember what the judges said about that piece of crap that my Vicky sponge turned out to be. Did I come last?”

“Yeah,” Aurora nodded. “Was nothing in it, though. We were all shit.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Lawrence muttered, a hint of her old mischievous glint back in her eye.

“And tomorrow we’re recording the finale,” Aurora sighed, swirling the champagne. “Five hours in a tent, followed by half an hour break, followed by presenting the Showstoppers, followed by the garden party, followed by our speeches. And then filming three endings. Where one of us wins each time.”

“It’s gonna be worth it by the end, though,” Veronica said brightly.

“Who’s gonna come from your family, Lawrence?” Aurora asked.

“My parents, my cousin Chloe, and my best pal Stinky Pete.” Lawrence grinned. “Can’t wait to see them. And who have you two got?”

“Uhm,” Aurora frowned. “I know Blake’s coming, and my nan, but I thought you could only invite two people?”

“Mine said four,” Lawrence replied. “God, you really can’t count, can you?”

“What about you?” Aurora asked, motioning to Veronica with her glass.

“My mum’s coming and my brother.” She twitched her shoulders. “None of my friends could get time off. Shame, really.”

Aurora nodded, sipping her champagne, trying to hold off on sneezing through the bubbles. “And the others.”

“Can’t wait,” Veronica smiled her usual pinched, nervous smile, her leg jogging. “I’ve missed them all. Tia especially, but I’ve missed them all. I wonder who they all think will win?”

“And Ellie still owes me a tenner for that Puff the Magic Dragon shit that she thought Tayce’s biccies were,” Lawrence mused.

Aurora pursed her lips at Tayce’s name, but pushed it to the back of her mind. What mattered now was not Tayce, but the fact that her eyes were drooping after not having slept the previous night, and the champagne making her head throb.

“Early one?” Veronica’s sigh must have read been a telepathic projection, because they all stood in unison and trailed each other up the stairs to their respective rooms, ready to pass out and begin everything again in the morning.

——

Showstopper: A picnic for a fellow contestant - to include one celebration cake, 12 savoury pastries, and 12 patisserie.

When the three of them had seen the Showstopper for the weekend, right after Tayce’s elimination, they’d all nodded knowingly to each other.

This one has been just …made for us all.

It was obvious. It was blatantly obvious that everything that had happened had been noticed by the producers, and the staff, and everyone with eyes and without them too, that all three of the finalists were missing someone.

Veronica was setting her alarms up, all five of them as usual, before dragging her ingredients from the bag she kept. On her workbench, she’d gently placed a photo Tia had taken of some landscape or other. Lawrence had laid all her ingredients out on a baby pink tablecloth that complimented the purple of her own KitchenAid.

Aurora only had one thing to remind her of Tayce. She’d gone into a charity shop in the week with Blake, looking for something he’d seen in the window, and had found something that Blake had gasped at.

“It’s a Welsh love spoon!” He’d thrust the small wooden spoon into Aurora’s hand, and she’d turned it over and over silently in her fingers, marvelling at the twisting pattern on the handle, curling into a heart shape at the top.

“That’s fate, that is,” Blake had nodded. “You’ve got to get that.”

Aurora set the spoon now on the counter top, resting against her own KitchenAid for now, as she ran back through the timings again in her head, and what she was planning.

The twelve savoury pastries were easy. Puff pastry sausage rolls with added baked beans and cheese. Even if Prue didn’t like baked beans, that was all Tayce seemed to be eating every breakfast time.

Screw what Prue likes. This isn’t for her.

The cake? It had taken some thought. Black Forest gateau with a mirror glaze to top it off, not something she knew if Tayce liked, but something that felt sophisticated and stylish. And the deep purple of the blackberries was a colour that Tayce loved.

The patisserie was the hardest one, but she’d settled on millefeuille, similar to some that she made before for her nan’s seventy-fifth birthday, delicate and decorative, fragile-looking but built to stand tall. Not to mention they tasted so good that the world ceased to exist when someone bit into one.

“It’s like they’re all back here, isn’t it?”

Veronica’s voice was quiet, but happy. Lawrence’s intake of breath was shaky, but she didn’t turn to face her, focusing on her bake.

“You’ve got a tin of baked beans on your workbench, Aurora, it’s so surreal! And Lawrence, you’ve got so much pink on your workbench today.” Veronica motioned to the pink fondant she’d made, pink icing, pink glaze, pink cake filling. Pink and white marshmallows, pink jam … every shade of pink imaginable. Lawrence just gave a snort and shook her head.

It was meant to be the hardest challenge yet, but it definitely didn’t feel that way. The tent heated up with the warm sunshine outside and the combination of ovens and bakers and inside, but as soon as nerves started manifesting, the three of them were all there to diffuse them all for each other.

When Lawrence started dropping her utensils, both Aurora and Veronica were at her side in an instant to grab her hands and calm her down before she started panicking. When Veronica clung to the edge of her workbench, motionless, Lawrence and Aurora were both there beside her to talk her down.

But when the last ten minutes were called …

Shit.

Aurora felt cold fear creep back up her chest. She still had the millefeuille to assemble. She’d done three, but nine remained. And the puff pastry had to come out of the oven. And the glaze needed to be poured over the cake for it to set into a mirror in time -

“Aurora?” That was Lawrence, with Veronica on her heels. “You’re making a squeaky whiny noise like a balloon letting out air. What d’you need?”

“But - ten minutes - your own bakes -“

As Aurora flapped, the other two simply ran round her side and started doing it without needing her to tell them. Soon all her pastries were on the tray, and the cake was out the fridge, the glaze ready to go.

“You pipe, I’ll load,” Veronica muttered, and she did just that, while Lawrence put the cake onto the metal tray, jogging back from her own workbench where she’d had to finish off one of her own patisseries, and as Aurora finished piping the last millefeuille …

“Bakers! You have five minutes on your final Showstopper!”

They were all pulling out the stops, dashing between all three of their benches. Veronica was throwing gold leaf around like it was confetti. Lawrence was covered in icing sugar, the sweet scent filling the air. Aurora poured the deep purple onto the cake, praying to the Monster gods that it would set into a mirror glaze in time …

“Time is up! The final Showstopper has finished! Congratulations, bakers!”

The whole world seemed to crumble at Noel’s words.

Aurora looked at the mountain of food she’d produced, everything that reminded her of Tayce, and she knew then that serving this would mean serving a slice of her heart to the nation. And that was the plan all along.

Everything in her body ached, her bones were hollow, her breathing felt too loud alongside the deafening roar of blood in her ears. But as she leaned on the workbench, surveying the amount of work she’d done, she felt a tickle at the back of her throat, and suddenly she was laughing, so hard that she felt like she’d never stop. And then so was Veronica. Then Lawrence began too.

They were all cackling, all three of them, delirious with delight. Noel and Matt came to congratulate them, clapping as they did so, and then Veronica came out from her bench to hug Lawrence, and Aurora ran to join in, and the three of them were suddenly hugging, laughing, sobbing, cheering into each others’ ears.

Until they were all too weak to speak.

——

Aurora, first alphabetically, was going to be the first out of the tent with her final Showstopper, to make her way to the garden party that was always put on for friends and family for the grand finale.

All her bakes were on an enormous tray and she carried it, with Noel on her left and Matt on her right, all three of them bearing the load. Aurora was flabbergasted that nothing was moving, nothing was falling, but everything was still and settled.

As soon as she stepped outside the tent for the first time, she was met by a blast of noise like heat from a furnace.

Clapping, cheers, whoops, laughter. The crowd at the garden party was friends, family, co-workers, film crew, all the staff of Norton Hall, and of course Blu and Cheryl. She caught sight and sound of her nan - her nan! - her accent and her distinctive nasal voice above the rest of the crowd, bless. And Blake, waving his hands in the air and cupping them to his mouth to howl at the sky.

And the rest of the contestants, waiting with the biggest smiles, with applause, with cheers and shouts that drowned out everything else that was happening.

Tayce was in the centre. And Aurora had never seen her look so happy.

She rested the tray at the table outside the tent behind her name, and stopped, stunned, blinking so many times at the noise and her senses overloading. How green the grass was, how vibrant the gingham pattern on the table, how blue the sky was above her head, how bright and hot the sun felt on her bare arms.

“Go on, Aurora,” Matt muttered, pointing to the crowd. “You can go and see them!”

Aurora walked slowly, the dream she was in making her legs shake. Her feet were resting on air, two inches above the ground, just above the blades of grass. But she somehow made the walk, the whole twenty-foot walk, away from the tent towards them all, dazed by their overflowing love, their cheers and their applause.

Tayce was beaten in the first hug by Hurricane Ellie, swamping Aurora in her arms; and by the time she’d disentangled herself, Bimini was there, leaping forward and rubbing her arms and beaming at her; followed by a grinning Pip, followed by Joe, still cackling. In fact, everyone seemed to get a turn before Aurora was left with just Tayce, waiting patiently, the grin she wore showing all her teeth, her eyes crinkling in happiness.

“Told you you could do it, bitch!”

——

“I made this spread for Tayce,” Aurora began, still cursing that her name was first alphabetically and she was first up on the podium.

Part of the Showstopper this year was a little speech to the crowd at the garden party. It was meant to be a tear-jerker, obviously, for the viewers to have an emotional finale, but it had just served to make all the bakers pull their hair out while writing a speech about which contestant they were baking for, and why.

“I made it for her because Tayce has been my rock throughout the competition. We were on the back row together, we got through all the first challenges together … she corrected me on the name of the hall for God’s sake, I was calling it Carr Hall for ages!”

The polite laughter tinkled around the grounds.

“Tayce has been an inspiration in so many ways. She’s taught me that … that I can channel my worries into the energy that I use to make a cake or a bread or whatever - and that can be fuel for me, to push me forwards. Tayce showed me that they were just a source of power like anything else. She always told me to relax. Well, chillax. And when I did, I rediscovered that I loved baking.”

Aurora couldn’t look at Tayce, even from this distance. Couldn’t see her eyes. If she did she might burst.

Lawrence and Veronica sat on the chairs next to the tent, next to the judges, waiting their turns, while everyone else sat or stood on the grass; but Aurora’s position on the podium, towering over them all, kept eyes trained on her as she gave her speech about her Showstopper, before everyone would come and eat.

“Me and Tayce,” Aurora’s voice cracked. “Well, we didn’t always get along. It’s a competition, and we all have our eyes on the prize, and that pressure of wanting to be the best got on top of us both at times.”

The silence was only broken by birdsong.

“But Tayce taught me that I do my best when I’m relaxed. When I’m loving what I’m doing. She taught me that my thoughts can be my own worst enemy, especially when I’m thinking about other people.” She paused, glancing back at her cue card, the words jumbling before her eyes. “And most of all she taught me that - that I ama great baker. That …”

The lump in her throat was back, the fear creeping up her windpipe to strangle her words. She shook her head defiantly.

“That I am more than capable, that I’m skilled, and that I’m … loveable. She held up a mirror for me. So I made one for her too. Thanks, Tayce.”

More polite laughter, followed by applause, as she indicated the mirror glaze cake.

Finally, she met Tayce’s eyes, and as soon as she did, her own burned with unshed tears, emotion swelling in her like a tidal wave.

But Tayce too, her lip quivered, not even noticing the others around her or their applause. She opened her mouth, and her lips moved, but only for Aurora.

“Love you, bitch.”

Aurora managed to mouth back to her while applause rang in the air.

“Love you, too.”

——

“Ellie’s gonna hate me for this,” Lawrence muttered into the microphone, and Aurora looked over at the crowd, Ellie already shaking with silent laughter with her hands over her mouth. “I made a spread for her. She probably wasn’t expecting it, it rains too much to ever have a picnic outside in Dundee, poor bitch has probably never seen the sun -“

“Lawrence,” Matt Lucas piped up, “just a reminder that this will air before the 9pm watershed.”

“So I can’t say bitch? Fuck’s sake!” Lawrence put her hands on her hips.

Aurora put a hand to her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise, but laughing this much was making tears stream down her face; and Veronica, sat next to her, leaned into her arm, also shaking, stuffing her fist into her mouth to silence herself.

“Anyway, I made all this pink stuff for Ellie. And not just because Team Scotland has to stick together,” she added, as Ellie whooped in the crowd, “but because she really has been the best friend I could have made here.”

Veronica let out a cough that sounded a great deal like ‘sexual tension’ and she and Aurora spluttered with laughter.

“And ignore the peanut gallery over there,” Lawrence motioned to Veronica without even looking. “Because first and foremost, Ellie has been a great friend to me. She sat with me when I was upset when I did something wrong, and she was the first to celebrate anything I got right - even if it was at her expense.”

“Aww,” Veronica murmured next to Aurora.

“I take everything really seriously. I take baking to heart. If I’m not good at something, it freaks me out, because I’m usedto being good at everything I try. Gifted kid syndrome, if you know you know.” Lawrence thumped her chest. “But Ellie just has fun with it all. She taught me that you can have fun with something without necessarily needing to be perfect at it. There isn’t a yardstick of quality to having fun. And even if I’m not good at something, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth the time.”

Ellie was now quiet, as the others turned to watch her, but she was only looking at Lawrence, oblivious to everyone around her as the grin on her face quivered with emotion.

“Ellie is fun. And I wanted to make something that would be fun, and also her. That’s why there’s a lot more pink than I’m used to,” Lawrence continued, motioning to the huge pink cake and the pink icing on the choux buns she’d made.

“When I was unsure of myself, Ellie reminded me of what I could do. But she also reminded me that I should be having fun. That’s the reason I made this for her. Because baking should be fun, and should be something you don’t take too seriously. And once I got that, I loved it.”

As everyone applauded again, Lawrence gave the crowd a thumbs up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, looking as if she wanted to get off the podium as fast as possible.

——

“Come on Veronica,” Aurora muttered under her breath.

Veronica looked very short, smaller than usual, even on the podium, the microphone somewhere at her forehead before she adjusted it to her mouth. She licked her lips; her eyes darted to the crowd, to Aurora and Lawrence sat separate to them all, to the judges, and then down to her note paper again.

“Well,” Veronica said for what felt like the fortieth time, another giggle escaping her lips. “Hello, everyone.”

“She’s bombing,” Lawrence muttered.

“She’s just too nervous,” Aurora nodded.

“Right. So. I made this spread for Tia, you know this now, because there’s a sign saying Tea or Coffee on it, I thought that was a nice - erm, a nice touch.”

“God.” Lawrence put a hand to her chest.

Aurora watched as Veronica took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out slowly, the silence only interrupted by birdsong.

“I - I’m a perfectionist. If it’s not perfect, I don’t want it. If something is out, even by ten grams, even by a centimetre, I just want to throw it out and never look at it again.”

Veronica repeated the deep breath, clenching the podium, her knuckles white.

“Me and Tia just clicked. We’re quite similar, me and her. We have the same humour, we like the same police dramas and murder mystery documentaries, we both like art and drawing and stuff -”

“Since when does Veronica like drawing?”

“You need to check her instagram page,” Lawrence muttered back, “it’s all artwork.”

“- but the one thing me and Tia didn’t have in common was baking. Tia’s an amazing baker. But something about that tent - as soon as she was in it, she kept making a mess of everything, she won’t mind my saying that; and I know she got really frustrated, but she never wanted to quit. She just always wanted to get better.”

Veronica was tearing up, it was evident even from this distance, her white knuckles shaking. Tia, in the crowd, squirmed for her, clutching Pip’s hand as Veronica fought to get some more words out.

“Tia taught me that it’s fine to make mistakes.”

Another long pause.

“Not that - I don’t mean that Tia is always making mistakes! She does a lot of stuff really great! But she taught me that being perfect is basically impossible. And that I can trust myself if something goes wrong, that I can trust myself to be able to fix it, and not just give up.”

Tia dabbed her eyes with her free hand, shuffling nearer to Pip, who had a hand on her own chest in sympathy.

“Because she doesn’t give up. She just wants to do better. And I love that about her. I wish I’d put less pressure on myself when I first got in there, trying to be perfect at everything, instead of trying to be my best, and getting better by making mistakes.”

Veronica finally seemed to be settling, the rare smile appearing.

“She showed me that making mistakes is fine, and it doesn’t mean I’m a failure, it means I’m a person. And she - her bakes were amazing, and lovely, and she’s such a genuine person that everyone in the tent fell in love with her. Well,” she paused, looking up, “I did.”

Tia’s jaw dropped as she clutched at her chest, leaning into Pip at her side, tears falling freely down her face now as the rest of them clapped, while Veronica’s smile widened, her own tears falling too.

“That’s so …” Aurora murmured, not realising she was holding Lawrence’s hand.

“… cheesy,” Lawrence muttered, but her voice had a crack in it.

——

Aurora’s nan got the first hug when she went over to her family. Her best friend Blake had the second, patting her heavily on the back.

“So which one is the one you made all the cake for then?” Her nan motioned to the crowd of contestants, who had been mostly all mingling together, now breaking off to sit with the crew and each other.

“Tayce is - oh, she’s here.”

Tayce, appearing from somewhere, plonked herself on the grass by the picnic blanket and helped herself to a sausage roll. “Oi oi, saveloy! Oh, these look nice! You put baked beans in them?” Tayce grinned. “You know me like the back of your hand, Rory!”

“Beans on toast was your go-to breakfast, wasn’t it?”

“Oh god, yeah,” Tayce nodded. “Breakfast of kings! The only breakfast! If I could have beans on toast for the rest of my life, I’d die happy. A bit flatulent, but happy.”

She looped her arm through Aurora’s waist, planting a kiss on her lips, before picking up a pastry, leaving Aurora floating just a little from the contact.

“So are you two dating now?” Blake asked, his eyes wide as saucers, hoping for gossip as usual.

Aurora met Tayce’s gaze; they hadn’t really discussed anything official yet. Tayce’s smile was strangely shy, and her eyes earnest, a thousand questions behind them; but as they both nodded simultaneously, it felt like they could work out the details a little bit later.

“Yep!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

Tayce reached down and grasped Aurora’s hand. “And you’re the first to hear about it - not the tabloids, not Hello magazine!”

“You’re not just putting it on for the cameras, are you?” Aurora’s nan teased, wagging her finger at the pair of them.

Tayce turned to glance at Aurora, the same thought passing between them both.

“No way,” they both said at the same time, to a snort of laughter from Blake.

There had been a time, not too long ago, that Aurora might have taken the question as a cue to overthink, overanalyse - but that thought didn’t even exist any more. Instead of being like ducks, kicking to stay on the surface, they now just floated effortlessly.

Aurora just squeezed Tayce’s hand.

Everything was falling into place.

——

“Taking into account your final bakes, and your performances throughout the series, we’ve made our final decision.”

Aurora’s left hand was numb; Lawrence was cutting off the circulation to it.

They all stood before the judges, filming the first of the three endings to keep the actual winner a secret from everyone. This would be Aurora’s win; they’d then film Lawrence’s and finally Veronica’s. For now, they all stood in line; Aurora at Lawrence’s right and Veronica at her left.

Prue held the cake stand, the Bake Off emblem engraved in the glass, all of them in a line waiting for the decision, while the crowd stood impatient, ready to put on a show to congratulate them all.

“You’re all incredible bakers, the best in the UK,” Prue continued from Paul’s speech, “and this was the most difficult season by a long way to judge. You’re all so skilled, imaginative, and clever, and I know you’ll all go on to amazing things after this is over.”

Lawrence’s hand was shaking in Aurora’s; and she could hear Veronica’s breathing on her other side.

This is it.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

Complete silence.

Even the birdsong had waned in the background.

A silence that seemed to last an eternity.

Aurora watched Prue’s mouth, wondering when she would open it again, put them all out of their misery, Veronica’s breath audible through the silence and Lawrence’s hand sweating in hers and Aurora’s heart must be the loudest thing in the whole country right now at the rate it hammered her ribs -

——

EPILOGUE

October 2021

Tayce had had to let Aurora go for Blu to wield the camera at the three finalists on the smallest of the neverending number of sofas in Pip’s sister’s house. Lawrence in the middle of the three, all squashed together on what was really a two-person sofa, but they’d all linked arms and interlocked their fingers, staring at the screen, watching themselves.

“I’m never gonna get used to being on screen,” Tia mused, shaking her head. “I swear I don’t sound like that.”

“You do, you definitely do.”

But Tia was only half paying attention to Tayce’s words, her attention on Veronica, who was ignoring her, staring enraptured at the screen. Lawrence, on the other hand, kept glancing over to see Ellie, both of them doing that strange thing they did in filming yet again, just able to know when the other was looking over at them to make sure they were alright.

Tayce tried to relax, hands in her lap, but her chest fluttered every time she met Aurora’s gaze.

The finale had been Tayce’s favourite episode to watch, simply because she hadn’t been in it. The element of surprise was there as she watched it, although it was there for all of them, because there the finalists were, on the screen, still waiting for the winner to be announced.

It must be between Aurora and Lawrence. Veronica only has one badge; it probably won’t be her.

“The winner of the Great British Bake Off is …”

The painful zoom of the camera on everyone’s faces. Aurora’s nervous smile, pure yet heartbreaking. Lawrence looking at the sky to stop herself from crying, both her hands occupied by another finalist. Veronica, her stare intent with anticipation, chewing her bottom lip.

“Aurora!”

The room erupted.

Cheryl was jumping up and down, the first at the sofa to hug Aurora as she sat still as a statue, hands at her mouth and eyes agape in shock, as Lawrence pulled her tightly to herself, planting a delighted kiss in her hair.

“It’s you!” Veronica shrieked, shaking her knee, “it’s you! You won! You won the whole thing!”

And then everyone else streamed in to hug her. Pip was first - Pip was always the first to lay a comforting hand - Tia was close on her heels - Ginny’s hands looped round her neck from behind and their eyes crinkled in joy - but Aurora still sat frozen, only her rapid blinking suggesting anyone was home at all.

Tayce felt time stop again, but this time in a moment of perfection and not defeat.

The contest environment evaporated, she couldn’t fathom feeling anything but pure elation for Aurora’s win, couldn’t fathom having felt any other way for this wonderful woman who she was lucky enough to now call her girlfriend, sat with her hands at her mouth and silent tears coursing down her face as Blu pointed a camera at it.

“Aurora! It’s you! It’s you!” Blu was patting her knee while the rest of them excitedly hugged and squeezed at her. “Do you have any words for us right now, or is it a bit overwhelming?”

“It’s - what - I can’t believe it!”

Aurora’s phone was buzzing on the dining room table, undoubtedly hundreds of friends and family calling and texting and tagging her in Instagram posts and tweets, congratulations spilling over from every direction, an outpouring of love and support and adoration.

The programme was still running, footage of Prue and Paul giving their final summaries of Aurora, and the other two finalists - other contestants giving sound bites - Aurora’s finalist speech as her face was red with tears - the where are they now segment starting to play for all the contestants.

Pip back at her day job, giving the camera a thumbs up, followed by a snap of her with Ginny at Blackpool Tower and a video of them both on the Big One. Joe reliving that Instagram video again, and clips of Cherry, Ellie and Asttina all trying to recreate it too. Cherry back at the dog-grooming business she worked for, and walking her own dog. Asttina back at the gym, followed by a photo of her and Bimini on a boat on the Thames. Bimini at their laptop, followed by pictures of them holding the childrens’ book they’d written since the show. Ellie’s move to Glasgow, a clip of her dyeing Lawrence’s hair back to the bright purple it was now. Tia and Veronica somewhere in the Lake District, windswept but with smiles a mile wide.

But Tayce didn’t see or hear any of it. Aurora was the only thing she could see.

And as she stumbled towards Tayce, draping herself into her arms and laughing in delight, Tayce held her as tightly as she could, crushing her eyes shut but not stopping her own tears, her heart bursting for Aurora as she was privileged to share this moment of exhilarated happiness with her …

She’s already a Star Baker. She doesn’t need a badge or a title.

But she’s got both now! And hopefully she can know that she’s a Star Baker as much as we all do!

——

THE END

#rpdr fanfiction #down with the recipe #rpdr uk #juno #uk2 #baking au #gbbo au #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #bimini bon boulash #veronica green #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #ginny lemon #asttina mandella #tia kofi #fluff #lesbian au

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grxceblqckthxrn · 5 years ago

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hi @chocolatecarstairs came up with these post-CHOG questions and i really want to answer them because im sad that im finished reading it :((

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

what was your favorite part, 1 or 2?

Honestly I loved both parts, but I’d say I loved part two just a little bit more for the time that James wasn’t under the curse anymore and LOVED Cordelia

which scene in the book was your favorite?

EVERY scene that had Matthew and James being wholesome parabatai in it!!! my favourite chapter in this book was Blue Ruin, the one after Grace takes the bracelet back from James (aside from the whispering room ofc).

what scene (or scenes) made you cry the most?

ok ngl i didnt spend much of this book crying, but the only scene that actually made me tear up was when james was dying and matthew could feel it and jesse (WHO I FUCKING LOVED MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD) gave him his last breath :(((((

what scenes were unsatisfactory?

there were not enough Christopher scenes (but to be fair, even if the entire book was just Christopher it still wouldnt be enough for me)

but fr, i cant think of any off the top of my head but i’ll edit this if i do later

what made you laugh the most?

matthew!! james!! thomas!! christopher!! also some of the things Jesse said

what bored you?

this wasn’t boring, but the whole charles/alastair plot line didn’t have me very invested. I did love the alastair/ cordelia scenes tho, so it was just charles that was the problem

also no offense to james bc he was my first actual fictional crush after reading TMH/NBS but like whenever he talked about being in grace i would literally zone out lol the bracelet curse makes him so boring but whenever he isnt in the curse/ is with someone who is NOT grace i just!! love him!!

what disappointed you?

cassie honestly had me kinda shipping matthew/cordelia for a solid FIVE SECONDS there when he stepped in to dance with her after james left her standing there, but that was one of the only scenes that made me feel like they had natural chemistry (along with the scene where he drops her off at her house). I felt like the during the rest of their interactions in the book, cordelia was kind of uncomfortable, which made me really sad because even tho she has every right to feel that way, i felt bad for matthew. I kind of want him to fall for someone else completely and for it to be reciprocated. also, i just really want for matthew and cordelia to become good friends because i feel like they could have such great natural chemistry if matthew didnt love her.

what is the top thing you wish had been done differently?

see above.

what things did you predict that came true?

JAMES BURNING DOWN BLACKTHORN MANOR I FUCKING SAID HE WOULD DO IT TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO IF YALL WANT ME TO LINK THE THEORY LMK

what are some things that were really unexpected?

ok there’s quite a few things here so bear w me babes:

- James genuinely loving cordelia from the start. I wasn’t expecting him to naturally feel nothing for grace at all, so i was expecting a slow burn jordelia, but finding out that he actually loves her makes me so happy but the end where cordelia thinks he was just pretending breaks my heart :(((

-matthew liking cordelia lol definitely was not expecting another parabatai love triangle but i hope it doesnt last. i do think it adds to the plot and i love it, it just hurts to see matthew so emo :(((

-I was expecting to like cordelia as a character, but i ended up LOVING her so fucking much???? she’s so three dimensional to me, and it’s interesting to see how her personality adapts around different characters as people adapt around different social circles irl

-liking jesse as much as i did

-ok so james’ entire character was a surprise to me. it’s so fascinating to see how the bracelet actually affected his personality.If you recall him in The Midnight Heir from TBC. he’s like an entirely different person. i still loved him in TMH but i went into CHOG thinking that if he was gonna be like that the entire time i’d probably get over him really quickly. i was pleasantly surprised by how much i ended up loving him even more tho

-i didn’t expect oliver hayward to die and im going to stay emo about it

- Christopher is so much more clear headed than he was made out to be prior?? like there were so many scenes where he was fully there and when he defended anna to alastair i just kfdsnfkld i love him

are there characters that you didn’t like before that you like now?

yikes umm... Alastair, maybe? he’s somewhat okay to me now, I dont dislike him as much as I used to. ooh and Hypatia Vex. the only scene i remember liking her in QOAAD was when she helped out kit, ty and dru (me, going a whole TSC post without somehow mentioning kit? not possible)

are there characters that you liked before that you don’t like now?

I started CHOG ready to give Grace the benefit of the doubt, and I was surprised by how timid and shy she seemed at the start, but it was interesting to see how it was all an act and how she doesn’t have an actual personality yet. one could argue that she actually does love james, but i doubt it at this point. i dont hate her yet, even tho she IS fucking up james’ life, but she’s on thin fucking ice.

who was your favorite new character?

does new character mean completely new or just never been in a novella new? because for the first, it would be Cordelia (i LOVE her sm!!) and other wise it would be james, matthew and co. also!!! jesse!!

what places in the book would you like to visit?

that hell dimension sounds pretty lit ngl

did you like the ending?

ok so. we KNOW that jordelia is gonna be endgame. cassandra clare always takes the hardest path to get there, but when has she not delivered? it’s just a matter of waiting. so, yes, i did like the ending in sense of the plot because it was a great twist, but i also feel really bad for all of them even tho ik they’re eventually gonna be together :(((

what did you think of the epilogue?

i wasnt surprised, since we alr know that Tatiana is shady asf, but i just really wanna know how she partnered up with a GREATER demon like lol wtf. again, im really happy in terms of plot with this

what are your thoughts on the engagement?

i feel so. fucking bad. for cordelia. and james too, even tho he’s under the bracelet’s curse so he doesnt even KNOW he’s being manipulated. but i love how even through the curse, james still loves cordelia in his own way.

what did you want to see that didn’t happen?

matthew getting therapy periodt

umm honestly i just want more “merry thieves” content like i just love. all of them.

what do you wish had been resolved that wasn’t?

i really want matthew to tell james or cordelia what happened because i just need him to be loved and supported lol i want to give him a hug.

what is your favorite pairing as of now?

jordelia!!! and lucie and jesse are kind cute rn, and i like them if theyre gonna be pining after eachother but i feel like if they actually get together i wont like the relationship as much.

which characters would you like to see more of in the next book?

CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHER

ANNA!!! i lovED reading about her she’s so badass

matthew!! jesse!! also i wanna see more of those bitchy girls lol just so we can see anna or cordelia tell them to stfu

what is one character whose death you would undo if you could?

ok i know that jesse is still very much a conscious character despite being dead but like,,, i want him to be the way he was before and also i want him to come back to life

and barbara!! she seemed so sweet

which characters got bad/unsatisfactory endings?

ummm barbara? i cant really say much on this yet bc its still only the first book and when has the first book ever ended up with anyone being happy.

oh but also can we sign a petition to make cassie let matthew actually survive the series because my heart aches just at the THOUGHT of eventually having to read a scene where he dies

which characters got what they deserved?

literally. none of them yet. :(

who should have died but didn’t?

Tatiana lol also lowkey charles but i also feel pity him to an extent

what plotline are you most excited to see in the next book?

okay the entire jesse plot has me hooked because i LOVE his character. also i love the bracelet plot but its making me MAD because i just want james to be happy but

what is one scene that you wish hadn’t happened, but you know was unavoidable?

THE ONE WHERE GRACE PUTS THE BRACELET BACK ON JAMES. i mean obv there was no way he was completely done with grace, but i literally got so sad at that part like why HIM of all people smfh let him be happy

which pairing do you like the least?

alastair x charles, grace x james, lucie x matthew bc neither of them actually like either imo lol

what are some theories you have for chain of iron?

- not necessarily for COI but i think matthew is gonna get exiled and turned into made into a mundane

- the bracelet will break (?)

- jesse will come back to life (like actual life) at the end of the book

-grace is gonna do something to help the main characters, making it hard for us to hate her.

what characters do you think should have gotten more plot time?

lol are yall gonna hate me if i say christopher again (also anna)

anyways this was really fun!!!!! PLEASE ASK ME STUFF ABOUT MY OPINIONS AND STUFF OR JUST SAY ANYTHING ABT THE BOOK BC IM DESPERATE TO TALK TO PPL ABOUT IT

#chain of gold spoilers #chain of gold #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Matthew Fairchild #lucie herondale #anna lightwood #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #jesse blackthorn #tatiana blackthorn #the last hours #tlh #cassandra clare #the last hours spoilers #chog spoilers

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Thank you, everyone, for your words of encouragement. In this short amount of time, I’ve been absolutely overwhelmed with messages of support. I want to reassure you all that I’m by no means as hurt as some of you think, or at least not after so much kindness. I’ve always encouraged all kinds of feedback!! From compliments to constructive criticism. And I’m (supposedly) an Adult™, so I can definitely take someone’s opinion.

Regardless, thank you to everyone who reached out to me. I want to respond to each and everyone of you under this post so I don’t flood other people’s dashes.

Anonymous said: about the anon who said your fics lack emotion, hmm i wouldn't quite agree tbh, i remember reading tears of a villian and deadass crying, it hurt me so much!! also, in "fall in hatred" their feeling are so well portrayed and i could understand why they acted a certain way! to conlclude, there is always some space for constructive criticism but your stories, are to me, something very attentively built and created, it's apparent that you completely enjoy writing, I can feel your enthusiasm!!

--to that anon; pls don't get this wrong way but it's just the way I see it and I've read quite a lot till now

nah deadass crying isn’t good enough anymore, anon. You have to be keening and violently sobbing until you’re brought into the ER for my fics to be considered to have emotion. lol I’m only kidding, thank you for the message.

peachiest-hun said: To that anon who said your work lacked emotions, I beg to differ! I have read Jungle Park so many times I know at exactly which chapter when the heavy angst starts happening and I read those parts when I just want to have a good cry (I still cry every. single. time)! Also Head Over Heels to Hell, The Colour of Our Voices, Love So Shallow (because I so relate with OC), and many more have given me the FEELS (happy and sad ones). 1/2

So what I'm trying to say is that Jimlingss is doing a great job in her craft. She does deliver emotions in her work and the reason I love it so much is that it's SUBTLE and not completely in your face. Sometimes emotions that are subtle and they hit you slowly, but powerfully it hurts even more for me. On another note, I'm loving Sugar and Coffee. In times of darkness which are often these days, I have something to look forward to every week to keep me motivated. So thank you Jimlinggs! 2./2

Istg Jungle Park is one of the most unexpectedly beloved fics on my blog but I love it hahaha I can’t believe you’ve read it to the point of knowing what chapter is what though. that’s an honour. There’s definitely stories of mine that are less subtle than others, but I’m glad that you enjoy the latter of them too :’) Thank you.

Anonymous said: This is my first time ever leaving a message on someone’s tumblr, but I just felt that I HAD to after reading that anon’s comment about your stories lacking emotion. I wholly disagree (in the nicest way possible, not throwing any shade at anyone). I’ve read all of your fics (for the past two years) and I look forward to when you release new material (the highlight of my Mondays right now after I come home from working at a clinic). Your stories have really lifted my mood during this pandemics an

Anonymous said: Sorry for that long tangent. Don’t even know if I made sense. You don’t have to respond to any of this, but you deserve to hear some positive words as well.

Oh my god. Did I just take your tumblr-message virginity? asdfghjkl I’m kidding. but thank you for reaching out to me. I can’t believe you’ve been around for such a long time and that I’m a part of your Monday routine :’)

Anonymous said: OK that ask about "constructive criticism" was def imo RUDE. You don't just anonymously go into someone's asks and bluntly tell an author that their fics "lack emotion". That is not the way to encourage someone to improve and continue to work hard. That's just flat out mean. That person clearly doesn't care about your feelings or the fact that you write and share your stories for FREE for us to enjoy. I love your stories and appreciate what you've shared with us. Thank you for your hard work ❤️

I like to give the benefit of the doubt to anons and anyone sending me a message online in general. God knows there were times I meant well but it was received wrongly. But anyway, my mind was more boggled than I was hurt, that’s one thing for sure.

joonie-mono said: + it was called love so shallow which genuinely made me see myself in a character, but my point was that your writing has a specific feel to it, it's made me laugh and cry (His Name personally killed me :] ) and that's my opinion. You and your writing are amazing and I'm sorry but that anon was just so wrong.

oof bringing out the evidence. be my attorney please.

Anonymous said: As someone who has read your entire masterlist (and going through it again) i will have to wholeheartedly disagree with that anon. The way you portray SO many emotions in your fics is *chefs kiss* and I honestly thought that the ones that “lack emotion” were meant to be that way, with an open ending, the idea that their love just started, soo.... yeah, I’ll have to disagree.

There are definitely stories of mine that are a bit looser on romance. Such as Kitchen Romance, The President’s Son, The Heiress’ Son, Arcadia, etc. But I have a loooot of fics that are quite emphasized in either despair/sadness or cute fluff.

ladyartemesia said: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I am here to disrespectfully disagree with anon who probably doesn’t write effing ANYTHING and has no idea what it takes to produce the content you do. I have followed for months and I’m still not through your masterlist BECAUSE reading your stories is a bloomin EMOTIONAL EVENT. When I read Brass and Strings, I LOST A WHOLE DAY. Like I was so into it, my DAY was gone. Anon is prolly salty there isn’t more smut I guess. That’s whatever for them. (Part 1)

It’s subtle, deep, meaningful, and incredible and you’re one of my favorite authors. I can’t FOR A SECOND let that comment go cause it’s RIDICULOUS. You’re literally so gifted. You don’t need to change a thing. Every artist, no matter their medium, should continue to improve. So in that sense I wish you all the growth in the world as you work towards the perfection of your craft. BUT SERIOUSLY you’re an incredible writer. That anon is loony. I’m so sorry you had to even read those crazy words.

As I answer these messages, it’s starting to feel like I’m the third party mediator of a dispute and all y’all are just HAMMERING it to this anon, LOL. I’m not sure if the anon is necessarily requesting for more smut but if they are, they might be happy this Friday (*COUGH spoiler for those actually reading my responses)

Anyway, you’re too kind. thank you. I am definitely not as hurt as I was earlier.

((and tbh you’re hilarious, you’re actually making me laugh irl))

krystle1990 said: Woah!! Ok first that Anon is absolutely crazy. I literally stalk your page for new work being put out! I probably blow up your notifications daily. I've never been disappointed in any of your work. You always give a heads up if it will take time for the characters to realize their feelings which I absolutely love. It always leaves me ready for the next part and I am glued to my phone with every update. You're amazing and I can't wait to see how you grow with your work. 💜😘

ASDFGHJKL PLEASEEE if it’s someone who’s worried about blowing up notifications, it’s me. To those who have notifications on I sincerely can’t fathom how often I blow up people’s phones. I digress, I always give out warnings to keep people patient since I know slow burn can be excruciating haha thank you for the message.

kigurumu said: Also just want to add that saying you have good intentions or "don't mean to be mean" does not cancel out whatever offensive thing you just said. IT WILL STILL RUDE. Not saying all negative feedback is bad. Criticism can be hard to take no matter how it's phrased, but telling a writer to be more like another writer is like telling them their style isn't good enough which is NOT helpful. Your writing is your own. If the anon wants to read fics that are like gukyi's, they can read gukyi's fics 🙄

Also I've been waiting until Sugar and Coffee is done so I can binge it all at once but avoiding spoilers from all the asks is so hard haha! I keep seeing all these good things about it and I'm SO tempted to just read it now but I've already waited this long so I don't wanna give up kfnrjrofvjskdh guess I'll reread your other fics in the meantime

The message was fine on its own but I think dragging in another writer at the end was definitely not ok. When will comparing writers end. But regardless, gukyi and I are cool with one another - i mean we wrote 100k together so it’s gonna have to take a reverse Zuko arc for us to be on bad terms lol

Anyway, oooh you’re one of those bingers. Can’t say I blame you cause I love binging myself, so it’s understandable for readers to wait till the series is over. and since you were so kind in following up your original message with two more and expressing so much appreciation for me :’), I’ll let you know that the finale of Sugar and Coffee will be posted by July 20th! by then, the entire series will be completed.

Anonymous said: Tbh i think that neither you nor that anon is wrong. Some people like it more romanticised and cheesy, some people dont. I believe that your stories are more on the realistic side of life. People (whom your characters represent) cant always be cheesy and passionate for love, there are other things in life! Maybe you're just the type who's too realistic for any hopeless romantic things like i am and it's fine. Not all writers can write dramatic romance

Tbh, I agree. It’s a matter of opinion and there’s no one wrong in the fight of opinions. As I’ve said many times on my blog, the cringe factor varies between person to person. What someone might think is fluffy is absolutely cringey to another. What someone might think is a good amount of fluff is not enough for someone else. I’ve written a lot. And I’ve made sure to add lots of variations between the amount of romance in my stories. Indeed, some are definitely more subtle and “realistic” while others are completely cheesy and makes me gag from the amount of sugar in it lol I just think the anon should take a look at more of my stories before coming up with such a conclusive opinion.

Anonymous said: I’ve been reading your fics for over a year now and religiously follow updates every week. Why? Because they make me feel something whether it be joy from fluff or grief from angst. I’ll remember a story of yours months after I first read it and return to it just to feel those emotions again. I understand that emotional responses are usually subjective but I think that anon needs to read your works again, because they sure are missing out.

I replied to that anon that they should check out more of my fics and then come back to tell me if they haven’t changed their minds, so I don’t know if they’re missing out or not lol

I don’t expect my stories to elicit emotional responses or fanatic feedback for everyone. God knows there’s been other people’s writing styles that just didn’t resonate with me no matter how hard I tried to read their stories. But all I ask is that people try. It’s fine if you give up halfway but at least try reading. That’s fair to ask, right?

#Anonymous #peachiest-hun #joonie-mono #ladyartemesia #krystle1990 #kigurumu

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stimmypaw · 4 years ago

Text

stimmypaw reads the apprentice’s quest, a blog post

A big one, just a bunch of thoughts as I’m reading it, of course, lots of spoilers for the first book in the Warrior Cats series A Vision of Shadows. This will be covering just the first book tho, it’s all in the Read More, let’s gooooooo!!!!

Vision Of Shadows time

Lots of new cats!!! I don't remember these guys as kits or anything wrow!!! I like their names but itll take a while to get used to them

Also cant believe they printed stormcloud's dead name

Omg there's a cat named beepaw

I love these cats all of them so much im going 2 cry

All new names are perfect

I FORGOT HOW GORGEOUS THE CAT VIEW IN THE RECENT BOOKS WAS, LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT

I'm glad leafpool smokes weed

I love reading from Jayfeather's point of view, his grumpiness hasn't grown on me ever but thats just me, I still enjoy it lots he's great and its fun

Firestar and Leopardstar's characterizations are On Point i love it

OOF i feel so bad when jayfeather is mean to others, poor kestrelflight, I love those two

Lovely Jayfeather moments now its time for the first chapter

I like this duo! Also I didn't think I'd ever say this but shut up squirrelflight one can have fun AND learn with their mentors

Sparkkit sounds nice she makes jingling bell noises when she walks around

Alderkit is chadphobic /j

I can see Alderkit taking deep breaths to relax its rotating in my mind its beautiful

God this first chapter feels so good and comfortable, like eating noodles and chicken nuggets. I am so so deeply in love with it, its gorgeous!

Sparkkit is so perfect too, and Graystripe remembering Firestar aaaaaa

DUSTPELT SAID WHAT? PHDHAHAHHA OH NOOOO I don't remember their relationship much, must have been fun, I love young little creature squirrelflight I MISSED HER SO BAD WOW

I started reading the second chapter and died, I think ill take a break now 2 sleep heehhee

I love them describing twoleg stuff its always so fun and alien, like watching an animal planet show about funny sea creatures.

Also I have determined sparkpaw is my favorite, might be my favorite cat ever next to hollyleaf??? I really identify with her and also she's autistic i have decided that

Alderpaw baby noooo hhhh their mentor at least is trying to show its okay, he seems very emotionally distant so far and alderheart feels very emotionally needy, actually both of them do, did I mention I love Sparkpaw??? I might be imprinting myself 2 much on her

I love how like, its clear both of them are absolutely anxious and worried about others opinions on them, which is clearly something they got from being Firestar's grandkids, deputy kids and leader kids. And bramblestar too, I recall him being quite the anxious lad ahhah. Sparkpaw will be showing confidence and being loud but the second anyone isn't approving of her or she does something "wrong" she gets small and quiet, and she ended up setting a high bar for herself by being good at hunting and fighting so I'm curious to see how that will go. Also there's nothing wrong with being guided through a crowded place to meet others Sparkpaw!!! I bet the two of them would be stuck without not knowing how to talk to others had Needlepaw not shown up. I love them, my gf is mocking me saying I'm a Sparkpaw kinnie.

Apprentices will like learn about a thing and tell everyone about it all the time and assume its always true in every situation and thats valid I love kids like that. Also in my head Needlepaw kinda looks like a porcupine. Oh boo she's fatphobic >:(

I love apprentices they are so fun and silly, just making fun of the leaders like its nothing. The way they are clearly learning and absorving everything their warriors say and do like sponges its just ***chefs kiss***

Omg shadowclan is just full of 12 year olds help

And then the old person said "it sure is hard being old!" And everyone clapped

Shout-out to pretty Riverclan apprentice #481977 I love her

Leafpool: 👁👁

Alderpaw: I knew it im cursed and awful and terrible and I will never amount to anything

I wish the cats didn't seem to be giving up on him so easily though

Ah yes the classic thunderclan move "you suck, into the medicine hole you go"

The way sparkpaw changes the things she says and how she does when it isn't the status quo around her oooooooooooooyeaaaaaaa I love 1 autistic cat

Alderpaw considering your problems lesser than other cats won't help you deal with them better bro

I love Needlepaw's excitement about Alderpaw being a medicine cat apprentice, and her sarcasm, she feels like a preppy teenager

Ahhh this is so good, I am so thirsty for family moments like this, just Alderpaw bonding with grandma, I’ll definitely want to draw this one it’s so sweet.

Oh to be young and silly.

I really am enjoying like, Alderpaw’s struggles to seeing how he fits in the clan, how he fits in himself, how he wants to be seen and what he wants to be, it’s really good. I Am Engaged(tm) With This Plot.

SPARKPAW NOOOOOOO but also Yes I want her to be shown vulnerable and weak please

POP, god watching this stuff always awful, the cats must have thought he broke her ahahah

Also, really great that they learned from Dovewing and now like leave choices and discussions about prophecies between adults

And plus Brambles seemed to take the time to explain stuff to him, seems he wont be going alone either the 1 thing is that he will be the only one knowing what the journey is really about, why though??? I didnt read Firestar's Quest or whatever why does Skyclan need to be secret??? Seems quite silly really!

YESSSS SANDSTORM GET HIS ASS FIGHT FIGHT LOVE THIS LOVE SANDSTORM

I could feel squirrelflight nearing explosion here, this was very fun, i wish they werent hiding this though!!!

The secret thing is showing to be a plot point so I am once again Very Engaged

Also, wonderful dialogue bit, someone asked Bramblestar why an Elder is going and:

Lovely perfect perfect

I miss you dovewing

SQUIRRELFLIGHT LOVE YOU

Oh boy this is it

Traveling book moment

Graystripe: Soooo you're excited to go on the journey to the old territories and Skyclan?

Sandstorm: Yes! It's been ages and-

Graystripe: I'm sure the tribe will love the visit too

Sandstorm, groaning: Oh noooo I forgot about how the tribe is in the way of every journeyyyyy noooooo they're such a racist caricature, please tell me you have a plan

Graystripe: Yes don't worry about it the writers forgot about the tribe in my comic book so you can just use the excuses i did to actively avoid it

Sandstorm: Oh thank Starclan

Sparkpaw's desperation to prove herself oof, her anxiety with understanding the prophecy, oh boy, and Alderpaw feeling too overwhelmed by the questions and not managing to talk!!!! I am so glad they are both autistic

Hoping "Being Leader" wont mean theyre putting nonsense responsibility on the apprentice again

Ah good Sandstorm is on the lead again, as she should, she should have been leader she would have been great

I can't believe Alderpaw thinks I look stupid and diseased :( /j

Everything about this twoleg scene was scandalous I loved it, Sparkpaw just toppled over a trash bag and they are eating from it, iconic, also did those twolegs throw out a whole turkey? Damn

Its not that Sparkpaw is freakishly good at hunting she is very hungry and constantly on the watch for things to eat

BRO Ive never been in a road where the drivers are this wild, throwing bottles out of the car????? Ive seen Fruit being thrown like once or twice, what the fuck!!! I'm glad they are going to wait until the morning to continue

Okay I was not expecting Needlepaw to show up this girl is chaotic I love her

ACTUALLY YEAH WHY DIDNT THEY TELL THE OTHER CLANS ABOUT THIS SINCE THE PROPHECY IS ABOUT ALL THE CLANS???

Needlepaw is like Rono from Bambi 2 if he wasnt a mean bully and thats very epic

Very curious character though, how come her mentor isnt teaching her the warrior code properly? Is that an issue with all apprentices?? Is the clan overwhelmed by 12 year olds and they won?

Having lots of fun trying to play the game "what animal are they describing this time" the erins made here, im glad they're in a farm. Worried about Sandstorm though :c

Fuck im worried about sandstorm a lot, her wound hurt on Me

Yeah water is good youre right sandstorm

Aw man I hope she's okay let her at least survive to meet skyclan please

NOOOOOOOO SANDSTORMA A AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sandtteooonrjrbbbmmnnnnnnnnnn

I am so sad

Alderpaw denying it, Starclan shining upon their vigil, everything crushed me i cried

Alderpaw considers Nihilism

Haven't seen a cat thank starclan for prey in a while its

Oh look they time skipped a journey! They don't tend to do that thats nice

I'm so excited to be meeting The Skyclan that everyone in the fandom knows now

So far they seem kinda mean but thats most clans at first glance really

Okay somethings up

I uh have heard of Darktail pretty sure he's a bad guy so yeah something really bad happened to Skyclan

Am worried

Darktail sounds like an evil himbo* i may be enjoying him actually

*himbos are usually nice by default so he's just evil and stupid and strong

Does needletail know these cats already?????

Shit

Oh okay fuck

I've been quietly reading the rest because I am just concerned and I want them to be okay as quickly as possible

Waterfalls are a classic nice

Oh boy time for our unlikely duo of Alderpaw and Needlepaw to get out of a Mess!

I did not expect this to end up with the two of them journeying into parenthood, but I'm happy it did

Well actually I'm very unhappy theyre so lost and there's no sign of Skyclan I am very worried for everyone involved Sparkpaw must be feeling awful!

Twigkit is a great name

Yeah this ended terribly

Overall! Frigging loved it this book was GOOD and a great start for the series I am very excited to read the rest, SO WORRIED ABOUT SKYCLAN THO AAAA the characterizations were great the characters were great the pacing was fun and I didn't get bored once!

I think o only wish I had read this sooner really so I could look up others thoughts without getting heavily spoiled about the last books, I can watch a few videos already though thats a start ahhaha. But yeah it was great and it felt very good to read, haven't swallowed up a book so quickly in a very long time!!! Very happy I finally got my hands on this 💕💖💕💖💕💖 cant wait 2 start the next one

If you read all this, hope you had fun hahaha, ill be making more of these cus theyre fun and I like talking about warrior cats thats just my thing

Til next time

#wc #the apprentice's quest #warrior cats #a vision of shadows #avos #warrior cats avos #avos wc #wc avos #avos warrior cats #warrior cats a vision of shadows #alderpaw #needlepaw #sparkpaw #violetkit #twigkit

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dayasbun · 5 years ago

Text

Fame - Angus Cloud (6)

Summary- a luckily timed audition leads to you falling for your new and unexpected co-star.

Warnings- okay HI welcome to my first multi chapter series woah?! this is actually so exciting for me like wow especially since angus doesn’t have any fics yet im just really really excited- so warnings! smut for sure, bad words, lotsa fluff, angst- everything in one basically. here comes a ride and I hope you enjoy :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 {reading now}

“Okay! So all we’re doing today is the makeout scene, sound good?”

You and Angus nodded, both sitting on the poster bed with cameras surrounding you.

“What did I do?” He muttered to you for the tenth time that afternoon, and just like the other nine times, you didn't respond. Just hours before, Z had properly informed you of Angus’s secret girlfriend, someone he clearly had a thing with-but made sure to tell you nothing of.

THAT MORNING...

“Z!” You rushed over to her, your eyes wide as Storm came up beside you two.

“You have to film in an hour don’t you?” Zendaya questioned, quickly pulling out her phone. You nodded giving Storm a quick smile.

“Yeah, and you already know what I have to film-”

“Mmmmm right, you gotta make out with Angus, trust me we know. Everybodys talking about it, they won’t let us on set to watch y’all though, we tried.”

“I can’t stand you two,” You laughed shaking your head “Anyway, you know why I’m here. What you find out about Angus? That you texted me about last night? And make it quick, I gotta go to hair and makeup in a bit.”

“I’m debating if we should tell you before or after you film your scenes…”

“You basically already told her Ms. Blabbermouth, so just tell her the full thing.” Storm said to Z with a shrug.

“I am not a blabbermouth! I think its just right that she knows!”

“Then tell me Daya, come on!”

“Okay, okay. So my social media is set up so that when someone is following me I can see who follows them that I also follow without even clicking on- this doesn’t make sense, anyway! This girl followed me and the only person following her that I also follow was Angus. I didn’t think much of it, shes public so I wanted to check out her pictures cuz I was bored. She doesn’t have that many followers, but this girl is hot. Like I’m not even gay and she’s fine as hell, that’s why I was going through her pictures because she was just so gorg-”

“She’s pretty, I get it, can we move on?”

“Oh- Sorry. So yeah, I’m scrolling and I get to this picture of her on some man’s lap right? You cant see his face or anything, and there’s no tag. This was posted last month by the way. So there’s no tag or caption, but guess who commented?!”

“Wild guess, Angus?”

“Exactly! And guess what he said?”

“I don’t have time or patience for guessing right now-”

“He commented- and I quote, ‘Baby I miss you, sit on my lap again’ with those nasty thirst trap emojis! So I’m like wait a minute! And I’m going through her pictures now for a whole other reason. I find out they been dating since 2017 and she has a million pictures with him on her page all booed up but get a load of this- she literally never tags him. She always tags this other guy named Steve.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms. “That’s fucked up. Real fucked up.”

“Yeah, I kn-”

“But I am not going to let it affect me today. I have to make out with him either way for our scene, so being petty isn’t necessary. I’m going to go on that damn set, and I won’t say a single word to him unless it’s on the fucking script!”

NOW...

“And...action!”

Angus let out a long sigh before jumping into the scene for the seventh time. You could tell it was bothering him why you were suddenly giving him the cold shoulder due to it affecting his performance as being Fez. You wanted to feel bad, but who just decides it’s cute to lead practical double lives? You tried to move the topic out of your mind so you wouldn't feel completely livid again and focused on the scene in front of you.

“Don’t do that girl, you got me fucked up.”

“Don’t do what? This?” You bit your lip and moved closer to him.

“You just tryna get some today ain't you?”

“I've been trying to get some since when I came back last week, Fez. But I’m glad you finally decided to notice.”

“Lemme gives you some then, come ‘ere.”

You got onto his lap wrapping your legs around his waist, just like you had the night before. You looked into his eyes and you felt your heart melt, and at this point, you didn't know if you were in character or if this was just you.

But then you remembered you were most likely the side chick.

Your facial expression hardened a bit, not enough for the cameras to pick it up, but you knew Angus noticed. Before he could ask you what was wrong or what he did for the eleventh time and ruin the scene, you pressed your lips to his and kissed him deep.

“Fuck baby...” he groaned into your mouth, his hands working their way up and under your shirt to cup your breasts. Once his large hands reached them, he gave them a nice squeeze causing your breath to hitch as you bounced a little.

Yeah, sure you were mad at him right now...but you loved that shit.

You grinned a bit wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing him down onto the bed. “You want me Fez?” You moaned out in a breathy tone, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Fuck yeah I want you girl, take this shit off for me.”

As you slowly unclipped your bra, you specifically remembered that at this point in the script he was to say ‘Jess’, not girl. But of course, the one-time {yesterday} you wanted him to say girl he had to say Jes-

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a sudden “Cut!” from the crew. Letting out a breath you got off of Angus’s lap and clipped your bra. “Good stuff guys, we need Daya and Hunter next so if you see ‘em remind them its time for their scenes in about thirty minutes.”

You nodded putting your shirt back on, and trying to rush off of the set before Angus could catch up to you- but you failed.

“Aye,” he said walking by you “What's good?”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know what's good.”

“Why you acting like this, all different and shit. It’s on god starting to weird me out, what's the dealio wit’ you?”

“Just fuck off.”

Angus raised a brow and stopped walking. Thinking you finally had gotten him to leave you alone, you slowly walked to your trailer but ran into Jacob on the way.

“Hey!” You said softly. You hadn't exchanged many words with him over the time you'd been filming, but every time you had, he had been sweet and polite. The run down with Jacob was that he was talented and cute...that's about all you knew.

The conversation between you and Jacob was brief but pure. He asked you some questions about filming and you told him about how much you loved his performance in the show. Soon enough he reached his trailer and you two parted ways, leaving you alone as you walked to yours.

You stayed more focused on your phone that your surroundings, leading to you not realizing that Angus wasn't far behind you. As soon as you stopped walking and leaned against the side of your trailer, you felt someone in front of you. Looking up from your phone your eyes widened, why the fuck was he still here?

“Angus what the fu-”

“So you think you can talk to me like that?”

Suddenly feeling shy, your voice and confidence lowered. “I was playing...”

“And you think you can just flirt with anybody and everybody?”

“What are you-”

“Imma tells you something, so imma need you to listen to me real clear.”

You swallowed and nodded, looking up at him.

“Ion think you know this yet so imma let you know.” He placed his thumb on your cheek. “You mine, got it? Not Jacobs, not anybody fucking elses, mine.”

You almost couldn't believe the words you were hearin-

“Uh, Y/N, you good?” Jacob asked you. Quickly snapping out of it you nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine thanks.” What a hell of an imagination you had. You took a quick glance behind you and saw no one at all. Letting out a sigh you said goodbye to Jacob and walked into your trailer. As soon as you closed the door you heard a ding that was specially set for your male costar.

Angus☁️: come to my trailer. now.

and why should i do that?

Angus☁️: now Y/N im not fuckin around

im busy

Angus☁️: busy my fucking ass im fr

alr but don't expect me to stay.

Angus☁️ read at 1:34 PM

And even though you didn't quite know what was up yet, just from the texts you could tell that Angus was not happy.

taglist:

@nikkixostan @melaninmarvel @celiajrs @siriuslycollins @patientplum @babygurlbarnes

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dirtycreekwater · 6 years ago

Text

Three Hours Behind, Five Hours Ahead

description: Logan Roman and Virgil are in a long distance relationship and trying their best to deal with that. having separation anxiety, Virgil struggles the most.

genre: fluff & hurt/comfort. human au.

word count: 1,109

ship: romantic analogince

warnings: some implied nsfw stuff. not graphic at all. don’t think theres anything else but hey lemme know if you need something tagged

a/n: this isn’t really gonna be a chaptered series?? i don’t really know what it’s gonna be tbh but it’s something. also Remus might be a minor background character at some point so remrom/incest shippers please do not interact thank you

——

Sunlight was slowly starting to filter into the room; not that Virgil had even noticed. His eyes were glued to his phone screen, the blue light emanating from it putting a strain on his eyes. He was sure they were bloodshot, having stayed up all night staring at said screen in the total darkness. He could hear his boyfriends’ voices scolding him already.

As if on cue a quiet ping brought his attention to the top of his screen. It was Logan, his Logan, in the group chat he and his boyfriends had created when they first met online. He already knew exactly what that nerd had said. He didn’t even have to read the preview.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:04am

Why are you on tumblr at 6 in the morning, Virgil?

Surprised he took this long to message me, Virgil thought.

Virgil 6:05am

bc i love torturing myself apparently idk

Logan 🐝🖤 6:05am

Please stop doing this to yourself, love.

Virgil 6:07am

but babe i need the memes

Logan 🐝🖤 6:08am

What you need is sleep. Try to now, please?

Roman 👑❤️ 6:08am

Ugh Virge wtf go to sleep 🙄

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that. Roman cared in his own way, he was quite different from Logan. And Virgil himself was pretty different as well. They were certainly a strange trio, but it worked so well.

Virgil 6:10am

i don’t wanna sleep

Virgil 6:10am

also shut up Ro you should be asleep rn too it’s 3am for you

Logan 🐝🖤 6:11am

Why don’t you want to sleep? And yes I agree. Go to sleep, Ro.

Roman ❤️👑 6:12am

Aw but guys I don’t wanna either :(

Virgil 6:13am

sleeping alone sucks

Virgil 6:13am

i miss you guys

Roman 👑❤️ 6:13am

Same 😭

Logan 🐝🖤 6:15am

Oh, loves. I miss you both too.

Roman 👑❤️ 6:15am

😭😭💔💔

Logan 🐝🖤 6:16am

But you can’t keep doing this to yourselves.

Virgil 6:17am

you cant stop me

Logan 🐝🖤 6:17am

Virgil, please.

Virgil bit his lip, maybe a bit too hard, and set his phone down. He hadn’t realized he started crying until his vision completely blurred. He felt silly really, crying just because he was alone. He wasn’t really. He had his boyfriends, he did. He had group chats, and facetime, and other video calls, and tumblr blogs. He had them. It just didn’t feel like enough. He recalled the first time they all met in person. They stayed in Roman’s house in Los Angeles, California. Logan flew in from London, England and he himself flew in from his small Pennsylvania town. It was truly the best week of his life. Roman had a huge bed, too big for just one person. It was perfect for all three of them, and god he felt so lucky. He remembered the way Logan’s Quasi-British accent sounded in person, and the way Roman’s boisterous voice seemed to fill an entire room. He especially remembered the way Roman’s sheets, and their skin felt against his own; the way their hands tangled in his hair, and lips moved over his. All he wanted was that week back.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:22am

Virgil? Roman?

Virgil took in a shaky breath, and picked his phone back up. He was just going to let himself be vulnerable, completely honest. He could do that.

Virgil 6:23am

i just hate being long distance so fucking much,, i can’t handle it,,, i just wanna be held again,,,

The next five minutes were the most nerve wracking minutes in Virgil’s whole life. Okay, maybe less nerve wracking than the time he waited for their responses to his crush confession. That was quite horrifying, but honestly this felt pretty similar. Like swallowing knives. The typing bubble had disappeared, and reappeared many times. He almost wanted to turn his phone off, and never turn it back on again.

Then finally a message appeared.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:28am

We’re not going to be long distance forever, my love. I promised you both that a while ago did I not? And I always keep promises, yes? Come on, it’s been two years. You should know that by now. Don’t lose sleep over this. Everything will be okay soon, very soon.

Virgil almost hated how good Logan was at comforting him, and Roman. He was always saying emotions were gross, and they just weren’t his thing, but yet somehow he always seemed to handle them perfectly.

Virgil 6:30am

damn it L how dare you make me cry more

Roman 👑❤️ 6:31am

How dare you make me cry as well!

Logan 🐝🖤 6:32am

My intention was only to reassure, and comfort. I apologize.

Virgil 6:33am

yeah well you did exactly that you stupid nerd

Virgil 6:34am

but um can we start facetiming more often? like at night? hearing your voices and seeing your faces really does help me sleep

Roman 👑❤️ 6:35am

Yes!!!

Logan 🐝🖤 6:36am

Well, being a few hours ahead of the both of you makes that quite difficult, sweetheart. I’m sure we can work something out though.

Virgil 6:37am

man fuck timezones

Virgil 6:38am

im gonna fight time

Logan 🐝🖤 6:38am

Maybe do that after you sleep.

Virgil 6:39am

no right now

Virgil 6:39am

im gonna do it

Roman 👑❤️ 6:40am

I’ll help 🗡🛡

Virgil 6:40am

sick 🔪💣

Logan 🐝🖤 6:41am

No fighting the abstract concept of time. Sleep now. Both of you.

Roman 👑❤️ 6:42am

But Looooooo

Virgil 6:42 am

Logan 🐝🖤 6:42am

No. Sleep.

“God, we’re dorks,” Virgil said aloud to himself. He then took a deep breath to calm himself before he typed out a new message. “Quit being a little bitch, Virgil.”

Virgil 6:43am

ok but can we facetime first? pls?

Roman 👑❤️ 6:44am

Yeah!!! You free rn Lo?

Logan 🐝🖤 6:44am

I’m always free for my loves.

Virgil 6:44am

thats gay

Logan 🐝🖤 6:45am

Excellent observation skills, Virgil. You never fail to impress me.

Virgil 6:45am

shut up

Logan 🐝🖤 6:45am

Why don’t you make me?

Virgil started to respond but the facetime screen, and obnoxious ringtone cut him off. Of course Roman would purposefully interrupt his and Logan’s bickering. Logan always did the same to them. Rolling his eyes he hesitantly accepted the call, and rolled over onto his side so he could hold his phone more comfortably. He broke out into a wide grin once he saw his beautiful boyfriends smirking back at him.

“Hey, guys.”

——

tag list: @royallyroman @crazyfangirls-stuff @easy-meta-knight @shyanonarchives

#sanders sides #analogince #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #long distance au #three hours behind five hours ahead #thbfha #olisfics

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loudest-subtext-in-tv · 6 years ago

Text

A Study in Fate teaser

Here’s the first 2200 words of a novel-length fanfic that I’ll finish sometime this year. It’s a WiP on an atypical schedule: At a later date I’ll release the rest of the first chapter, but then I’ll release everything else all at once.

Some authors don’t like if you hassle them to hurry up, but I may find it motivating. I’m going to attempt to get better at answering my asks/comments so feel free to ask me things about this fic, but keep in mind there’s a lot of things I won’t answer. Please be aware that no one cares if you don’t like first person perspective.

Though a big aspect of this story is about how to manage depression, it starts in a relatively dark place and weaves in and out of it. If you can’t handle unresolved distant thoughts of suicide right now, maybe wait until the entire story is posted.

Finally, I am doing okay financially right now, but two of my fandom friends are not. If you’ve ever wanted to give me money, I now have a Patreon. Anything you give me will help me help them.

Description: After the events of The Empty Hearse, Sherlock struggles to figure out who he is now that John no longer seems willing to play a prominent role in his life. As his mind runs in circles trying to parse their relationship and determine who threw John in the bonfire, his world is shattered by an enigmatic visitor: himself, bearing bad news from the future.

Series 3 time travel remix; series 4 compatible.

Tags and warnings: first person present, agonizing slow burn, explicit but romantic, depression, suicidal ideation, NOT FLUFF, self-actualization

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Chapter One - The Curtain Rises

One can’t get far without an organizing principle. Every man needs one drive to which all others are subordinate, a touchstone that seizes him with purpose.

I had one once.

Now I have chips.

Dreadful organizing principle, chips: once you’ve got them, there’s nothing propelling you forward anymore. Have enough of them and you hardly want to move at all. God. I was in the best shape of my life, body and mind, and now I’m turning into Mycroft.

Except Mycroft has already transcended these struggles — or so he claims. Yet again, I’m lagging behind on a path I never wanted to follow. Splendid.

Any moment Mrs Hudson will come out and start chattering away about you. That will set me back the rest of the day, yet I won’t ascend the stairs. Does no part of my mind demand control of my brain stem? I’m meant to be some kind of genius: Any visionary corner of my psyche eager to make something of me? No takers?

No. Life is now nothing more but the wandering of here to there. And thoughts like that are why everyone thinks I’m a baby, so for god’s sake stop.

I am all too stopped.

Depression is a dowsing rod: shows you where to dig. So: Why do I halt here, at the bottom of the stairs? Why can’t I face the only place I’ve ever belonged?

It’s not merely that you don’t live here anymore. Not quite. That would be too easy.

Where are you wandering now, John? You got off work an hour ago. No one's called to alert me you've been kidnapped, so there's one thing I didn't miss today.

Still figuring that out, darling. Off my game. Maybe was never on it. Against my better judgment I let romance rot my mind, and you're the one who's suffered most. But I've recovered from less noble chemical weaknesses than your company. Against all odds I still draw breath. If I make myself do nothing else, I will turn this around. I'll prove you can rely on me.

Any threatening emails? You don't just attempt to incinerate a man and move on. For god's sake, give me something.

Oh. A text. Not a threat; a video from the homeless network. Must have been delayed whilst I was on the tube.

There you are, alive and unwell, and here responds my heart but it's nothing. Mere streets away from me, and nowhere near her flat. Why do you do this, John? Is your phone broken? We could just talk about this. Give me another chance and I swear I won't come on so strong. I was too presumptuous when we last spoke weeks ago. I broke your heart, I'm monstrous; you're no longer fond. I get it.

You're no longer fond, but you're in need of a hit. Which is curious, you realize. You understand how a man would get the impression... But no. I won't presume. Life is boring and I'm dangerous and bless you, you need a hit. Just come get one. I'll pretend I'm managing, I'll find a way to switch on that whole persona for you and you can do your hero worship thing. I won't act desperate.

Just show up, and I will respect your wishes.

Do anything but pensively stop on the sidewalk in front of shops you have no intention of entering. It just screams, I'm distracted! Kidnap me! It's been an age and I know you despise me, but if you keep doing this I'm going to have to conduct surprise drills again.

Maybe you're trying to get kidnapped. I wouldn't put it past you. Maybe it would be charity to send a car around for you to blithely climb into. Do you even think about how that would make Mary feel, John?

Of course, it's me you're thinking about right now. The tension in your posture, the unconscious clenching of your hand, the conflict evident on your face even from this distance: definitely me.

You know, I wasn't the only one who presumed. The papers presumed, the entire British populace presumed, even your sister presumed and surely she'd -- No matter. You've made yourself clear. Just: spare a thought for "the best thing that's ever happened" to you. I've no talent for consoling women on my best days, and I'd hate to see how I'd fare in a worse state than her.

No, I don't know that. I don't know that I love you more than she does. She's never broken your heart.

Oh. Wait, why...? For god's sake, Pilar, why would you approach him? He'll notice.

Well. Can't complain about seeing your eyes more clearly. Not good for my recovery. And there, yes, you've noticed. Paranoia in full swing, hackles raised, and a step forward. 'Can I help you?' in your usual tone that fashions a threat from etiquette.

Not good for my recovery, no. The things you do to my blood, John.

'Got a pound?'

'For someone recording me?' You scoff, narrow your eyes. 'Are you...?'

'Say, aren't you John Watson?' Oh, clever girl. Look at him, pretending he's not pleased to be recognized.

Yet nothing is ever simple with you, John.

'Yeah.' You're either too smart or too suspicious for your own good. (Freud would presume. I'm only saying.) 'Did he...?' You look directly at the camera; at me.

Come on! You assume it’s me? When roaming bands of criminals have set you aflame? Oh here we go, that spark in your eye -- you're going all in:

'Did you put her up to this?'

Oh well.

'Who? What makes you say that, sir?'

'Uh, well he does it all the time.' I don't. 'You know what? Just send it to him.'

'Not sure what you mean, sir.'

'Oh,' you laugh, 'you're not sure what I mean. Stop bloody recording me.'

And that's the end of that.

So. Guess you won't be coming over this week either. Or will you? Are you angry enough to confront me? It's not stalking when it's for your own protection -- just ask my brother, John. God knows he could use the conversation.

I’ve got to find more discreet operatives.

> Next time don't be so obvious.

When did she send this? Ten minutes ago. No, if you were going to come over, you would have arrived by now.

I suppose you’ve already said everything you have to say. But not even a text for stalking, John? I thought we had a connection.

Or we did. Before Moriarty won.

Not your fault. All mine. I underestimated him, failed to foresee the lengths to which he'd go for his insane plan. Didn't realize how many pieces he'd put on the board. Stupid.

A ping:

i thought youd like it? before you whinged you cant hardly see him

It was only supposed to be months, John. Then dozens of pulled threads later and you'd already gone and shacked up with a woman! That's what I get for being thorough.

And not even thorough enough. But if I wasn't thorough enough then neither was MI6, John. If Moriarty still had operatives in London, that's on Mycroft. And me. But definitely on Mycroft.

I don't know. Hate not knowing.

Are we really never going to talk about this? I took down an international crime syndicate for you, and you broke up with me on your blog?

No, no -- sorry. I take full responsibility.

This is ridiculous. I don't know why anyone comes to me to solve their problems. I can't even make it up the stairs.

Ah.

That's it, isn't it? I don’t live up there anymore, either.

Yes. Everyone says you can find Sherlock Holmes just up those stairs, back from the dead and cleverer than ever! Like most things everyone says, it’s not true. I search for him in these rooms daily, and all the evidence points to this: Sherlock Holmes was a character created by John Watson. An exciting story. A fairy tale. (Dare I say a fantasy?)

People will believe anything you tell them, John, and they did. You were so sure I was a hero that even I came to believe it in the end. Now they only keep believing it because I lied. I was never steps ahead, never as infallible as you made me out to be -- and now that you've quit writing me I'll never be anyone at all.

But I'm doing it again. Getting histrionic. I'm not the first nobody to have his heart broken. They all get on with life.

Well: usually. Technically speaking, the most invested ones turn to murder or suicide. On the upside, murder is still in the cards: Assuming I can pull it together long enough to hunt down the appropriate parties, they are murderers and it would be doing the world a favor to murder them right back. In the course of any such investigation there will tend to arise situations in which I would have no choice but to murder them -- or, fortune willing, sacrifice myself so that you may live. Or both! Now that would be a power play: cleanse the board of evil, preserve the king. The ideal way to die may yet fall into my lap.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

But say it doesn't pan out. Given my recent track record it would be foolish to place undue faith in my forecasting abilities, and after all, I don't know for certain this has anything to do with Moriarty's network. He pulled so many rugs out from under me I'm always half expecting yet another rug. I may grow as paranoid as you, John, with him skulking about in my head. For all I know everyone involved was in Moran's network, and I'm chasing after people who are already in custody. Maybe there's no grand end, no power plays, no relief.

That leaves suicide.

I'm not saying I will, John. I refuse to break your heart again. And it would be no way to honor the lengths to which you've gone to preserve my life. They're mere thoughts. They come and go -- always have, and I always haven't. I'm not going to do it, and if I am, I can always do it later.

But no appealing alternative has revealed itself. Only the obvious path for the invested: live like everyone else, and finally sever myself from aspiring to anything meaningful or exciting. Growing up, they call it.

Freud called it repression, so let's hold off on drastic measures. I made this life work before and I can make it work again.

Of course, that was easy for Freud to say: Being invested in life isn't an exercise in masochism when you have a lifelong companion. Not to be maudlin, John, but I wasn't making it work until you came along. Not truly. You were the gear that made it all click. I couldn't become Sherlock Holmes until you facilitated it.

It felt like the strength you granted me persisted during our years apart, but it's no surprise I drifted off course the moment you weren't at my side. That's not superstitious, John, that’s just a cold fact. You would have caught the little things I didn't. You would have kept my ego in check.

But what's done is done. I'll muster some strength for you. Reinvent myself again. Reorder my mind, keep myself off the needle and the pavement until I tie up these loose ends. Then... who knows.

Maybe someone else will come along.

Well. Feels good to laugh.

I’ve got to get on with it. Life may be a flight of uncarpeted stairs, but I'm sick of being down here.

'Going out, dear? John didn't call, did he?'

Will I always be this damned slow?

I sigh loudly, not that it will make any difference. 'No, and no.' You scowl like you do when I talk about him. 'Just getting in.'

You frown. 'But we were just talking.'

My heart leaps. 'You and John?'

'No, silly.' My heart falls. You tilt your head; smile. 'You and me.'

'You were talking. I was out.'

You shake your head and laugh, a cheery, infuriating tinkle. 'You had quite a lot to--'

'Mrs Hudson.' For god's sake, do not go senile on me. Not one more straw.

'Is it drugs, dear?' Terrible, hushed pity. Everyone always leaps straight to drugs! 'Oh don't get angry, I know all the signs! The nerve of him, putting you in this state. I'd say a few things to him, if only he'd come around once in a--'

Anything has got to be better than this.

'Project much?' The stairs are fine two at a time.

'I need those for my hip!’

'Adjust your dose! You're clearly...’ What?

What in the world?

'That would explain so much,' he says, and the room tilts.

Through the door. There I am. There he is.

Sherlock Holmes.

End notes:

In The Lying Detective, Sherlock tells Faith that chips are “the only perk” of being suicidal. In The Empty Hearse, he was eating chips when Mary told him John had been kidnapped.

John’s most recent blog entry before this story takes place is The Empty Hearse. It’s a mindfuck minefield for poor Sherlock, but we’ll get into that more soon. For now, know it contains this doozy: “Oh, and in other news, I’ve got engaged. But, it’s not something I’m really going to talk about much here. I want to keep some things private. I will say, though, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sorry, Sherlock :)”

I borrowed the name Pilar from Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas, a novel by Tracy Mack and Michael Citrin. I’ve never read it, mind, it just seems like it wouldn’t be the sort of thing Sherlock would assign to Wiggins, and Wiggins would never be so sloppy.

Sherlock is obsessed with Freud. One Freud reference in The Abominable Bride, which was constructed entirely from Sherlock’s drugged out brain, came from Mycroft, who asked John if he was aware of theories of paranoia. Freud believed paranoid people were closeted homosexuals, heavily insinuating that Sherlock believes John is a closeted homosexual. Freud meta to come later; he’s very important.

Freud was with his wife for 57 years.

“Life is a flight of uncarpeted stairs” is from the poem “Spring” by the early 20th century queer poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. She ended up dying of a heart attack that made her fall down the stairs, which is itself poetic. Though she was a woman, I think it’s realistic Sherlock would know about her: the Casebook notes that Sherlock reads the agony aunt columns in women’s magazines because they contain all of life and are pertinent to his line of work, and in the same spirit I’ve made him familiar with all old famous love letters, for which she’s renowned. We also know Sherlock is familiar with Shakespeare and moved enough to remember entire soliloquies, so there’s no way Sherlock could read “Spring” and not retain some of it — especially as John and Mary had been aiming for a spring wedding, and the poem references April, which is just wrapping up as the fic begins.

#tjlc #johnlock #fanfic #my fanfic #A Study in Fate #this was a nightmare to format on an iPhone

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leelee10898 · 6 years ago

Text

Fast cars & Freedom: Cant help falling in love (8/?) Part 2.

Here it is.. part 2 of chapter 8... is that really Logans mom? How does Ellies dad react to the news she is married to Colt??? You can catch up HERE. And as always, if you want to be added to the tags, drop me a line.

Pairing: Logan x Ellie, Colt x Ellie

Rating: Mature

Song inspiration:

“Riya! Damnit.” Ellie gasped, Riya instantly cupping her mouth. Ellie Stood making her way over to her father.

Colt stood behind Logan, schock written all over his face at the series of events. Riya just announced to everyone that He and Ellie were married. Her father being an ex cop, was probably about to kill him, sure he had a gun or two, or three laying around. And did Logan just say Mom?

Logan stood there, completely stunned, baked beans covering his shoes. Was he imagining things? Because the woman standing there next to Ellie's dad looked an awful lot like his mother. He remembered seeing her when the foster parents would bring him to the jail to visit. That all changed when he got sent to live with a shitty set and he ran away, never looking back.

“Logan? Logan is that you?” Sally spoke, tears in her eyes.

Frank looked between the two, dumbfounded. Of all the women in the world he would fall for, he had to pick the one who was possibly the father of his grandchild, and an ex criminal. His eyes darted past Logan and locked right onto Colt, who stood frozen in place. “You!” He seethed, Pointing a finger at him. “Oh shit.” Colt quickly placed the pan he was holding down on the table and took off into the house.

“Oh no you dont, get back here.” Frank took off running after him, coleslaw dripping from his pants. “Dad, wait.” Ellie followed the two into the house. “Dad, just wait. You don't understand.” He froze in place “what don't I understand? How you ended up married to him,” He pointed to Colt who stood at the door. “Because that I don't understand. How did this happen? When did this happen?”

“6 years ago. In vegas.” Her dad's eyes went wide. “iIt was the night before, well everything went down with the brotherhood.” Her dad slumped down on the couch, the feelings of that time crashing down on him. “She asked for an annulment Mr Martin. This isn't Ellies fault, I didn't file it. If you want to blame anyone, blame me, not her.” Colt stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.

Her dad let out a long sigh “Well, at least if He's Lucas father, you'll be married.” Ellie closed her eyes “I'm filing for divorce.” Her dads face reddened. “Colt, why don't you go outside and help out. I need a word with my daughter.” Colt hesitated, waiting for her command. She was his queen, she would always be his queen no matter what, and he would do anything she asked of him, but he wouldn't willingly divorce her. “Go ahead colt.” He nodded walking back out to the back yard, leaving Ellie and her dad to have a serious discussion.

Logan blinked, stunned. “What. How did you.” He couldn't form the words.

“Logan, I have been looking for you ever since i got out of jail.” Colt stopped immediately, backing up a pace to hear what was going on. “Oh really? And when was that? Because it seems you haven't done a great job of it.” Logan stood arms folded. “well, there wasn't much of a trail to follow, you stayed pretty well hidden. The last bit of information I got you were in California, so I came out here.” Logan stared at her, still in Shock that his mother was there. “Can we talk? Please Logan, you have no idea how long I have been waiting to see you.” Logan nodded and the two walked off alone.

Colt looked over to where toby and Luca were sitting at the kiddie pool, he walked over “Hey squirt, why the long face?” “Is grampy mad at you?” she sniffled. “No, he's not mad at me sweetie. Everything is ok.” he assured her. “Hey Colt, um aunt Riya said you and mommy are married. Does that mean you're my daddy?”

"Eliana Renne Martin, what the hell do you mean you're filing for divorce?" Frank shouted. "Dad, calm down." "I thought you would be more mad at the fact Ive been married for 6 years and didn't tell you."

"Dont rock the boat Ellie. What is your reasoning for divorcing? Our family does not divorce, trust me it would have been easier to divorce your mother when she got bad, but I didnt did I?"

"No. You didnt. I just, dad we were 18 and 19, we were young and uncertain if we would be in jail or dead." Her father shutteres at the memory.

"I cant talk to you about this. I think youre makimg a huge mistake, but youre my daughter and I love you. Just please, please think about it."

Colt stood there in Shock, not sure how to handle or answer it. He was relieved when he seen Ellie come out of the house, luckily she was headed right for them. “What's going on?” She noticed the uncertain look on Colts face. “Someone heard the announcement, and has a question.” Ellie looked down at her daughter “Mommy, if you're married to Colt, does that mean he's my daddy?” Her eyes went wide, she looked between the two,she had no idea how to answer without generating a lot more questions. “Well, sweetie i'm not sure. But how about, how about you go to see what grampy is doing ok?” Luca nodded and walked away, they look on her face told her this wasn't the last she would hear about it.

“Im sorry el, She just came out of nowhere. I didn't know what to say.” Colt ran his hand over his face. “Its ok. I didn't either. Lets just hope we get these results back soon. So we know for sure.” Ellie looked over at Logan sitting by himself, a beer in hand. “I should probably go check in on him.” Colt nodded as she walked away.

“Mind some company?” He looked up, and patted the seat next to him. “So. I guess you heard my mom is dating your dad.” he snorted.

“I heard something like that. How crazy is that?” he let out a half hearted laugh. “But seriously, how are you handling it?”

“I don't know. I'm kind of excited to finally have my mom around. On the other hand, i'm scared.”

Logan told her how his mom was in a car with his dad and a friend. She had been dating him for a little while and they stopped at a bank, his dad apparently robbed it and she was locked up as an accessory. When she got out finally Logan had ran away from foster care and hid himself pretty well. “I guess It's nice to not be alone anymore.” Ellie grabbed his hand “hey, you're not alone. All these people here, the crew, me, Luca. We're you family. You haven't been alone because wherever you go, were with u. Right here.” She placed her hand on his heart. “Thanks Ellie. The same goes for me. I'll always be there for you, no matter what.” He kissed her cheek, and walked over to where Mona and Ximena were standing.

Ellie sat there watching her dad and Sally talk, for a few minutes before hugging and kissing. She turned her head, not wanting to see that. She wondered if her dad knew about Sallys past. She seemed like a very nice woman, and she had not seen her dad so happy. Not in a long time, not since before her mother died. She learned years ago not to judge a book by its cover, so she would give her the benefit of the doubt. If she hurt Logan, she would hunt her down and handle her, herself.

The day went on, the drama of day seemed to fade away, and everyone ate and were enjoying themselves. They had a corn hole tournament going on in one corner. Toby lounged in Lucas swimming pool, buzzed and sunburnt, but happy as hell. Logan and Mona were on one team, while Ximena and Darius were on another. Stacie, and Sally sat around watching them.

Colt relaxed in a lounge chair, Luca asleep in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “You're seriously holding her while she sleeps?” Colt chuckled “well Logan was holding her, he passed her off to me when it was his turn in Corn hole. She just, fell asleep.” Ellie shook her head. “Suns starting to set, we should probably wake her soon so we can head over to the field and see the fireworks.” “yeah, my arms dead, so sounds good to me.”

“Luca honey, time to wake up.” Ellie stroked her hair. She started to stir a bit. “He squirt, it's almost time for fireworks. Get up.” Lucas eyes fluttered open. “Can I have some ice cream?” she spoke with a yawn. “Yup. Come on, I'll take you.” Colt stood shaking the sleep from his arm as they disappeared into the house.

Riya slid up next to her. “Watching those two fawn all over Luca has got to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen.” Ellie's mouth flew open. “Ri, you're married and have a son.”

“I know. But seriously, I'm not even sure why you want to divorce Colt. He's clearly still in love with you. Unless.”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you want to be with Logan instead.” Riya waggled her eyes at her.

“I don't know what I want. It's just the right thing to do, divorcing colt. We were so young.”

She rolled her eyes “Whatever you say Ellie.”

“Are you Drunk Riya? And where is Marcus?”

“Mayyyybeeeee.” She giggled. “Dare set the pack n play up in the house, hes sleeping mom sheesh.” Ellie playfully pushed Riyas arm.

They headed out to the field to watch the fireworks display. Toby playing music to go with the show. “Uncle Logie, dance with me.” Luca stood up yanking on his shirt. “Oh sweetie, Stacie asked me to dance first.” Luca puffed out her bottom lip “Ok.” she turned to walk away “Lulu wait. Of course I'll dance with you. Stacie said its ok.” Luca beamed as Logan spun her around. Countless awes coming from the women watching. “Logan is such a good dancer.” Ellie sighed as she watch him float across the black top with her daughter.

Colt cocked his brow. “Hey. I remember us having some pretty good moves.”

“Of course we did. Are you. Are you Jealous Colt?” she eyed him suspiciously.

“Dance with me Ellie.” she smirked taking his hand. “Oh I guess For old times sakes.” the song changed as Colt pulled her closer. “You remember this song?”

“How could I forget it.”

Her mind went back to that night in Vegas.

*****

Ellie stood in the empty room, her shaking hands flattened the front of the short white dress she picked up at chapel boutique. Under better circumstances she would have had her father there to give her away, Riya as her maid of honor. She would have spent months picking out her flowers, the dress, the colors, food. But this right here, was what she wanted to do in the moment. Not knowing what the next day would hold. Would she be in jail, dead? She wanted to experience getting married, she loved Colt, and Colt Loved her. A knock came at the door. “You ready sugar?” An older lady dressed in a tight patent leather dress asked her as she handed her a bouquet.

Ellie nodded as she stepped out of the room. A soft melody began to play as she stepped onto the aisle runner, her eyes locking with Colts.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. He looked handsome wearing a black suit, he fidgeted with his fingers, anxious to take her hands in his. She stood before him, as they joined hands. “Ellie, you are breathtaking.” his voice cracked with emotion, making her tear up. “You look so handsome Colt.”

They turned towards the officiant, dressed head to toe like Elvis. “Dearly Beloved. Uh huh. We are gathered here today to join these two hearts together.” They tried to stifle their laughter, quickly composing themselves. “Do you Colton Take Eliana to be your wife?” Colt slid the ring on her finger “I do.”

“And do you Eliana take Colton to be your Husband?” She slid the ring onto his finger “I do.”

“By the state of Nevada and the King, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride. Uh huh.” He shifted his hips in true Elvis fashion. As Colt took her in his arms, their lips meeting in a sensual, sweet kiss.

They shared a first dance, in the chapel. Colt pulling her close to him.

Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you.

“You know. I think the king was onto something with this song.” Colt smirked. “Oh? And what's that Mr Kaneko?”

“I couldn't help falling in love with you, Mrs Kaneko.”

*****

“I wish you would reconsider the divorce El.” Colts words pulling her from the memory.

Take my hand, take my whole life too. But I can't help, falling in love with you.

“Colt. It's just the right thing to do.”

“the right thing for who? Because I still Love you Ellie. Can you honestly say you don't still Love me?” She stared at him for a moment, stunned. “I… I…” A loud boom went off above them, Luca came running up “Mommy. Mommy. Its starting.” She grabbed her hand “come on Colt, sit with us.” Her free hand grabbing his.

The next morning Ellie drove into town, she entered the building and stood in line. Her mind swirling from the night before, the dance with Colt, watching Logan dance with Luca. She was so confused, so lost. “Next.” She heard the woman call out. She walked up the desk

“How can I help you?”

She took a deep breath. “I need to file for divorce.”

Tag:

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@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @powdesiree0816 @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear @simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent @akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch @choicesarehard @paisleylovergirl @itskismetbb @itsmarleen @rhischoicesfanfics @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @iplaydrake @coffeebeandragon @jasidu2

#choices ride or die #ride or die bad boy romance #riya rod #fast cars and freedom rod au #rod logan #logan x ellie #rod colt #colt kaneko #colt x ellie #darius rod #rod dad #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #bad boy romance #pixelberry

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writingsofadream · 6 years ago

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Masterpiece | Part II

Pairing : Yoongi x Reader

Story : He’s looking for heartbreak and inspiration, and you’re just looking for a new laptop.

Set during the writing and recording period of Love Yourself: Tear. Involves angst, fluff, and smut. Multiple chapter series. 5.9k words in this part :)

♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬

Staring at the stranger beside you indignantly, you couldn’t help but show your surprise at his words. This earns a smirk from him, which you can’t decide if you love or hate.

“I’ll buy it for you, Y/N. If you’ll let me buy you a coffee too.” His words follow the smirk just as confidently, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously. The dingy store’s owner gives a low whistle of disbelief, seemingly just as confused as you were.

“What’s your name?” You demand, crossing your arms to close the open air between your body and his. His hard, no doubt fit body…he certainly wasn’t chubby like the blonde guy.

“Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” At this, he extends his long-fingered hand to you, waiting for you to slip yours into his. Swallowing, you reach out and grip it lightly. His hand is cold, and smooth. His skin seems to electrocute yours, and after a moment in his firm grip you wrench your hand back.

“And why exactly are you buying me a laptop, Mr Min Yoongi?” You arch an eyebrow, pulling your arms back into a somewhat stern cross again. It feels childish and no doubt looks it too, judging by the amusement dancing in his deep, dark eyes.

“Because I’d like to interview you, and paying you for your time seems only natural. Plus, I have the money for it.” He throws the last sentence out like an easy addition, shrugging his shoulders naturally.

“Yea, I noticed the ring.” You scoffed at this, unable to hold it back at how ridiculous it was to be smug but not show your wealth until someone asked. What a…snob?

His jaw hardens and a sliver of the amusement drops from his eyes. Whoops. He breathes in deeply before addressing you again. The words that come back out sound no longer lighthearted, but annoyed.

“Look, take it or not, I don’t care. Just make your mind up. Either I buy it for you and get that interview, or I can pay for it and walk away with it. I was here first.” His gaze is intent on you, and you feel your cheeks become hotter with embarrassment. How did you always manage to make yourself seem like a fool, you thought to yourself quietly. No wonder you’d been single for over a year; you didn’t give off good girlfriend vibes, whatever the fuck they were.

“I’ll take it.” The words are out of your mouth before you can properly consider it, and once they were out they sat in the cold air of the shop. A smile crept across Yoongi’s face, and then the shop owner broke the thick silence.

“So, Yoongs, I’ll ring it up?” Yoongi nods to the man, and peers at you as though inspecting you. Feeling as though you’re compelled to say something, you clear your throat and thank him. He shrugs again, as though buying strangers laptops was something he did all the time. You were certain it wasn’t. Somehow, between his dark clothes, demeanour, and his steeled gaze, you didn’t pick him for the type of guy to hand out MacBooks like Oprah.

“Where are we having coffee?” You direct towards his shoulder, as he faces the machine to swipe his Platinum credit card. Without glancing back at you he answers, throwing the words over his shoulder in your general direction.

“Wherever you want, Y/N. My shout.” The last two words come out with a wink, and he tugs his card from the machine and faces you once again.

“Here you are, Y/N. I’m Chaen, by the way.” The store’s owner hands you the bag with your new laptop in it, a grin on his face though still obviously a little confused. Thanking him and promising to come back next time you needed anything electrical, you took the bag from his hands and made your way out of the store. Yoongi followed behind you, shaking the man’s hand as though they were good friends. Grabbing your raincoat from the stand, you pushed the heavy door open into the small alleyway. Noting the rain had stopped, you shoved it into the bag with the MacBook box. It was still overcast and chilly, so you were thankful for the warm jumper you’d been smart enough to pick out. Whipping around, you faced Yoongi and bit your lip. Where should you two even go? He seemed to be thinking the same thing as he stared at you, clearly waiting for you to voice your decision.

“The cat cafe.” Pleased with your decision, you attempt to throw a friendly smile his way, only to be met with a bemused one.

“A cat cafe?” He laughs. “I could’ve guessed, Y/N.”

___

Why had he invited her? Well, he supposed, she was as good as any person to ask. A pretty girl like her? Surely she’s had her heart broken by some obnoxious jock at least once in her lifetime. And if he wasn’t any good at the questions, it was only a loss of a few thousand won that he wouldn’t miss. Plus, he would know not to do any more of them. That’s what this is then, he decided. An experiment.

She sits across from him, a white and brown kitten on her lap. Sinking into her oversized lilac jumper, the kitten seems to be falling asleep, much to her delight. Looking down at the little animal and stroking its small ears with her delicate fingers, Yoongi feels something tighten in his chest. A strand of her hair falls into her eyes and she tucks the unruly piece back behind her ear. Looking up, she meets his eyes and he coughs in a not-so-subtle attempt to hide his blatant staring.

“So, what’s this interview anyway?” Her voice is pretty and light, and Yoongi thinks for a second before answering. He has to be careful with what he says, especially since she seems unaware of who he is. She’d been a little confused at being ushered to the back and tucked away in a little booth - luckily he’d managed to convince her the rest of the cafe was too loud to record properly.

“It’s for a project I’m doing. On heartbreak.” She cocks her head and furrows her brow a little at this.

“Oh…and they’ll just be a few questions, then?” Yoongi nods at her question, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as she scoots herself and the kitten towards the window. Shuffling over so she’s directly facing him again, he tries to set her mind at ease.

“I just need reliable answers and it won’t take that long. I promise.” She seems convinced, or just like she’s giving up. Settling back into the plush of the booth, she sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. Yoongi watches her, enthralled by the way her delicate collarbones peak out from the top of her jumper. She opens her eyes again, and his own jump back up to her face.

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans he pulls out his phone, opening the recording app and setting it in between them. Pressing the record button, he starts.

“So, Y/N, have you ever had your heart broken?”

He’s pulled his hoodie back, and you can see now that his hair is black and makes him even more fucking handsome. His question is calm and controlled as he watches you from across the small booth’s table. Nervously stroking the kitten in your lap, you paused before answering.

“No.” He doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat. As he does, his hands lay out on the table and his jumper is pulled up. Sitting on his wrist shines a Rolex, brand-new and gleaming. You instantly reach out to touch it, stopping yourself just before making contact.

“Is that a Rolex?” You ask, eyes wide. You hadn’t actually ever seen one in real life before, and no one you knew owned one, that was for sure. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure anyone bought them other than celebrities and business men with too much time on their hands…or rather, wrists. Definitely not dark, brooding guys like the one sitting across from you.

“Yea, it’s a Rolex. Says so on the face.” His smart-ass comment and smirk annoys you, and you pull your hand back quickly. He definitely was fond of smirking, you’d give him that. Frustratingly, it made him even more attractive.

“I can read.” Your retort sounds stupid as it leaves your mouth, and you regret it instantly. Hurriedly, you switch the conversation back to what it’s supposed to be about.

“Why heartbreak?” Your question seems to puzzle him, and his eyes leave yours to look out the window into the pouring rain. Outside, the trees swayed heavily with the weight of the wind, Seoul’s streets a mix of green, grey, and various lights shining through the haze. It was beautiful.

“Why not?” He’s turned his attention back to you now, resting his chin in his pale hand. It framed his face, and for a spilt second you wondered what they’d look like around your neck. Shaking the image from your mind, you motioned for him to explain.

“Love is a difficult emotion. That’s all.” He brushes it off nonchalantly, then turns the questioning back around.

“What do you do for a living? Between school, that is.” His question doesn’t seem to have anything to do with his chosen topic, but you answer it anyway. Lucky for him, you’re starting to feel a little more comfortable in the warm cafe. The kitten on your lap purrs softly, the hot hazelnut mocha relaxing you.

“I work at a cafe. It’s a little quaint, but it’s okay. It’s the best I can do for now.” Hoping he’ll leave your life at that, you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“Do you like working there?” His face seems genuine, and the question is natural enough. You shift slightly in your seat, and the kitten stirs.

“I do and I don’t. I guess it’s just one of those things.” The kitten bounces off your lap, and you pout a little as it prances across the cafe to a couple walking in from the rain.

“One of those things?” He really won’t give up, will he? You look down into your coffee, bringing it up to your lips for a quick reassuring sip.

“Yea. Life. Have to get money somehow.” He sips his coffee, which he took black, unsurprisingly. Setting it back on the wooden table, he licks the drink from his lips. You instinctively stare at his mouth, the way his tongue darts across the soft pink. Feeling a familiar warmth in your crotch, you bring your eyes swiftly back down to the brown beverage in your hands.

“I love what I do. Do you want to see?” You peer up at him. What the fuck? That probably wasn’t safe, right? Then again, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by his proposition. Besides, you had nothing better to do, and the man did buy you a MacBook.

“We can continue the interview there, if you like.” Your answer is greeted by a gummy smile, and he suddenly looks soft and inviting. Just as quickly as it appeared, though, it’s snatched away as he brings his mouth back to a smug, subtle smile.

“Cool. I’ll call a taxi.”

Why was he bringing her back to his studio? He had no fucking clue. As he paid the taxi driver and stepped out into the rain, he pulled his hoodie back onto his head. She reached into the MacBook bag for the scrunched-up raincoat, wrapping it around her body but leaving the hood down. Maybe she just didn’t care about how she looked, he thought, and the rain started to wet her hair. Grabbing her arm, he tugs her into the building. Unmarked, BigHit logos are nowhere to be seen. The company had agreed to keep it clear of anything that would bring attention to the building that held all their personal studios; that way they could work in peace, without the incessant fans and management. Keying in his personal code, the door swung open. The lobby inside was marble and modern, and he heard her gasp at the presentation of it. He hated it, to be honest. It felt cold and uninviting, though ironically people said the same about him.

Walking up to the elevator, he pressed the button to his studio’s floor. In fact, all the boys’ studios were on the same floor. It was a big fucking floor.

The silence in the elevator was palpable, but Yoongi simply felt like he didn’t know what to say. She was chewing her plump bottom lip, and between her slightly damp hair and delicate features he felt stumped on what to say. Usually he never wanted to say much at all, but now he kinda longed to say something to her. It’d be great if he just knew what to say.

He wasn’t sure why he’d suggested it, like the cafe, but he definitely wanted to show her what he did. That much was clear. He liked her sense of humour, her way of putting things. She seemed almost…whimsical.

The ping of the elevator jerked him from his thoughts, and he pointed out into the extending hallway.

“Those are a lot of rooms. Which ones is yours?” She looks at him, eyes wide at the length and breadth of the expensive-looking way ahead.

“Follow me.” He sounds smooth and his pitch is normal, thank god. For a second he thought he’d choke on his words looking into her eyes. He wanted to fuck her, dammit.

Walking into the room was a stark contrast from the marbled floors and walls of the rest of the building. It was unlit, save the grey light of the late afternoon rain shining in from an open window on the end wall. There was a couch, big enough to double as a bed pushed against one of the walls. The rest of the room contained computers, a keyboard, microphones, and a whole array of other recording devices you couldn’t even begin to guess at. The monitors were massive, and when Yoongi shook the mouse the screens displayed various softwares, all seeming to do with music. He ran a hand through his hair, then turned back to look at you. He looked almost nervous, as if searching for your approval, and you felt that feeling in your stomach again. Lit up in the grey, rainy light and the soft white of the screens, he was so good looking you thought you might pass out right there and then. Instead, you felt arousal prick at your body. Fuck. Trying to push it away, you finally spoke.

“You’re a musician?” His shoulders relax, and he leans back against the desk on a rare spot that isn’t covered in sheet music and other scribbles of paper.

“And a producer. I’m in a group.” He points at the small couch underneath the window. “Wanna finish the heartbreak and shit interview?”

“I hope it doesn’t involve literal shit.” The joke is bad and poorly timed, and you cringe at the bluntness of it. “Sorry, my jokes are…well, shit.”Surprisingly, he bursts out laughing. You join him, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders as the two of you fill the air with the sound.

“Nah, no shit.” He walks over to the couch, clearly amused. Plunking down, he pulls his phone back out again. As you sit down next to him, you accidentally read the top message on his screen as he turns it on and goes to lock it. It’s from some guy named Namjoon, and the only words you made out were ‘tear’ ‘soon’ and something about dinner with the guys tonight. Interesting, you thought. So this Yoongi guy apparently has at least two friends, Chaen and this Namjoon. And who were the rest of the guys? Before you could think more on it, though, he turned to face you.

“Can I propose we do something else instead?” He looks nervous again, but this time his eyes are…fixed. He knows what he wants. His stare runs through your whole body, and you push back a little further away from him.

“What do you suggest?” Your voice is barely a whisper as his eyes cut through you, trailing down from your face over your breasts and down to your hands in your lap. Bringing them back up, he stares at you intently from his spot just a metre away.

“I want to fuck you.”

Yea, he’d just said it out loud. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. Looking at her, watching her, showing her something so intimate to him. Her stupid little joke, her loud and shameless laugh. He wanted to fuck her, plain and simple. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a good fuck. It had been some girl from another idol group, and she’d been tight and compliant but…not quite what he’d needed. He’d booty called her a few times, sure, but things had ended once she’d figured out he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Of course he wasn’t looking for a fucking relationship, why the fuck would he?

You froze at his request, realising he said it in all seriousness. Shifting on your butt, you tried to push a little further away from him but your back hit the wall instantly. He spoke again, less intensely this time.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It would just be sex, though. I’m not looking for anything, and don’t feel obliged because I paid for that laptop.” His words take a moment to sink in, you feel nothing but shock throughout your body. But then, something else creeps in. Those lingering feelings of attraction and lust all hit the critical points in your being. Basked in the grey of the rain, hearing it pour down outside, it mixes with the soft whirr of his computers and various electronics. Looking at Yoongi, wearing his black clothes with his black hair, his handsome face with a sensual expression. You couldn’t believe it. You were actually contemplating fucking him.

He seems unnerved by your silence, and moves back on the large couch.

“The back goes down and we can pull it out, so it’s like a bed. I sleep here sometimes.” His confession barely makes its way into your ears as you continually toss about his proposition. Over and over it whirls around in your head, but finally you start to think clearly. Why not? You hadn’t had sex in over a year, and this was one of the only days you hadn’t had class, study, or work in literally weeks. Why not take the opportunity, you thought.

Heart pounding in your chest, you bolted your body towards him, practically throwing yourself on top. Inches away from his face, you nodded fast before you could back out.

“Yes,” you heard yourself say, “I’ll fuck you.” There it was, that smirk of his. This time it was more implicit than the others, the presence of sex hiding behind it.

“Just this once.” You add with a rush at the end, just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas. He turns his smirk into a grin, then brings his smooth hand up to cup your face. His long fingers take a disobedient strand of hair, tucking it back into place with a calculated slowness to it.

“Works for me.” He gives you a dark wink, then suddenly his hand is gone from behind your ear. Your skin feels hot where he’s touched it, and despite any reservations you had you felt your panties become a little wetter. Dammit. Your body was almost betraying you.

Standing, he started clicking something on the side of the bed. You stood too, realising he was pulling it out so it could become an even larger bed. So you could fuck.

Pushing you back with one arm, he grabbed the underside of the furniture and tugged hard. It pulled back from the wall, the back falling to become the top of a bed. Clicking the buttons back into place, he then reached up into a higher cupboard to pull pillows down. Throwing them down onto the plush now-bed, he also pulls down a single white sheet.

In an instant, his lips are on yours. Kissing you hard, he places his hands on your hips and pushes you down onto the bed in a rush. Bouncing against the soft mattress, you both shimmy up to the top. He pushes a pillow under your head, still feverishly kissing you. He nipped playfully at your bottom lip, his hands now exploring up under your jumper. You could taste the coffee on his tongue, in his mouth, and no doubt he was tasting your hazelnut mocha. As he ran his tongue across yours you gasped a little, and he smirked against your mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, particularly the spot between your legs. It felt like a distant, yet all-too-familiar ache.

He shifted his hard body above you, moving his top half off your body. Pulling off his hoodie, he threw it to the side with abandon. Coming back down, he supported himself with his elbow beside your head. You bit your lip, expecting more hard and rough coffee kisses. Instead, he slipped a hand between your thighs, meeting the denim of your cuffed blue jeans. He groaned a little, closing his eyes for a split second before rubbing a little harder, hard enough to meet your pussy through the fabric. Suppressing a soft moan, you bit your lip a little harder, tasting a small amount of blood in your mouth. Pulling his hand from your jeans and between your thighs, Yoongi reaches up and pulls your bottom lip out from your teeth.

“Take off your jeans, now.” The ‘now’ is said like an order, and a shiver of anticipation runs through your core. He rolls off you, sitting next to you patiently.

“Hurry up, Y/N.” That one was definitely said like an order. Unbuttoning your jeans with shaky hands, you pulled them off your body without a second thought. Throwing them to join his hoodie, he suddenly brings his body back on top of yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, hot breath in your ear tickling your senses. “You’re good at taking orders.” Fuck, his words ran from your ear straight down to your heat. His head comes back down, his lips pushing against yours again. Opening your mouth for him, the tip of his tongue curls around yours. Now, his free hand is running along your inner thigh, slowly making its way closer to your wetness. Each inch feels antagonising, and the closer he gets the more you feel as though you’ll explode without his touch.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His order is directed into your mouth, and you murmur back quietly.

“Touch me.” You don’t have to elaborate; Yoongi gets the message. His long fingers start to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, and you moan against his swollen and wet lips. Through half-lidded eyes he brings his mouth from yours, his lust-filled eyes staring right into yours. It sends a twitch through your whole body, and he presses harder with his fingers. The pleasure is intense but manageable, just hard enough to feel good but not hard enough. He’s teasing you.

“Press against me.” He utters the words so lowly you could almost swear you’d imagined them if you hadn’t seen his soft lips shape out the words. Every nerve in your body is electric, tingling. Rolling your hips, you push harder against his hands and he rolls his fingers less gently. The pressing feeling becomes more intense, and you whimper against his touch.

“You’re so fucking hot.” His words are said roughly, and he latches his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck. He sucks hard on the skin, and you can’t hold back the deep moan that comes up from your throat. The sensation of his sucking paired with the rubbing friction of his fingers pushing your panties against your clit bring you close to the edge, and you know he can sense it. His mouth leaves your skin with an audible pop, and he looks down at his handiwork with a gleam in his dark eyes.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” You press harder against his hand, getting closer and closer to your peak. Slowly, he runs his hand away from your soaked panties and back down your inner thigh, and you let out a dissatisfied grunt. Dropping your hips back down to the mattress, you hum against his ear.

“Not gonna let me cum?” You’re bold, but you don’t care. You catch his lobe in your mouth, running your tongue over it and around his piercings. You hear his sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, and his hand hovers over your inner thigh. Without warning, he slaps it. Not hard, but hard enough for you to bring your mouth away and yelp softly. He chuckles, nuzzling into your neck a pressing down a kiss.

“Not yet, baby.” His words vibrate against you, and he lets his teeth graze over your new hickey. Already turning a dark shade of purple, it was very…him.

He starts kissing his way down your body, making his way to your collarbones before grabbing the end of your jumper and pulling it up your torso. Arching yourself against the bed you lifted your arms up, allowing him to pull the jumper from your body. Beating him to it, you reached under yourself and unclasped your bra, pulling it off your arms and throwing it off somewhere onto the floor. He started down at your breasts, looking mesmerised and hungry. That tantalising smirk returns to his lips, and he wastes no time in latching his lips to your right nipple. Rolling the hard bud around with his tongue, he flicks at it and pulls the other with his hand. They’re erect at his movements, and he runs his tongue over your breast moving down to your stomach. Kissing past your navel, he reaches the line of your panties and breathes out softly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Hooking his index fingers into the waistband of your panties, you feel the cold of his silver ring against your skin. He pulls the fabric down slowly, and you close your eyes to savour the moment. Slipping them over your feet, you hear them join the rest of the clothes on the wooden floor. Daring to peak your eyes open, you look at Yoongi perched on the edge of the bed, looking directly at your pussy. His mouth was open a little, his eyes hazy, and his breath was long and deep. He glanced up at you, and you started to shut your legs.

His hands instantly grab your thighs, pushing them back apart. He winks at you, and chuckles lightly at your sudden display of modesty.

He pushes you further up the bed, and you adjust the pillow under you. Between your legs, Yoongi brings his mouth closer and closer to your wet and waiting cunt. Then, he licks you.

The wetness of his tongue brushing against your clit softly brings a moan up through your lips, and you press against him a little harder. He obliges, softly licking longer strokes until he’s passing over your hole with each one. Sucking on your clit, he brushes a finger against your opening, holding your right thigh back with his other hand. He starts to suck harder, and you mewl in pleasure at the feeling spreading from your lower half.

He slips one, long finger in, reaching his knuckle then curling up inside you. As he swipes your g-spot, you grip the white sheet hard in your fists. Arching your back, you push your pussy closer to him, begging him to give you what you need. The bastard grins before sucking hard, so hard you clit sends shockwaves through your body at the sensation. Locking your thighs around his head, you start to pant and let out a whispered curse as you feel yourself reaching towards your climax.

He slips another long finger in, stretching you a little as you realise how much you’ve missed the feeling of sex. And this was already the best fucking sex you’d ever had.

Slamming and curling his fingers inside you, Yoongi sucks relentlessly against your swollen clit. Like a champagne cork popping from a cold, fresh bottle into the air, you cum hard around his fingers. Pushing back against the sheet, you can’t stop the heavy flow of moans that leave your mouth as he continues to suck you gently through your orgasm. Curling your toes, your eyes roll back a little as you let it completely take over your whole body. Every inch of you feel intense, electric, dangerous.

As you come down from your high, he pulls his lips from your pussy and withdraws his fingers. You feel empty without them, but exhausted from the experience. Looking at him, you see your juices glistening wetly around his mouth and on his chin, Swiping with the back of his hand, he wipes it off, giving you a cheeky grin and looking down at you heatedly.

“Get on your hands and knees.” His voice is breathless but commanding, sultry-sounding to your ears. His black jeans are tight, his cock obviously swelling against the rough material. Seeing you staring, he cocks his head to the side with a smile.

Without a word, he slowly undoes the top button of the jeans. The zipper follows, the noise crisp in the air. Your breathing is still heavy, and you lick your lips at the sight of his bulging cock pressing against his black Calvins. He slips the jeans down first, and they pool down at his knees. Then, he teases you with a knowing look and he tugs down his underwear, his dick bouncing out. Holy. Shit.

Remembering his order, you flipped yourself onto all fours, pushing a pillow under your elbows. Feeling nothing, you look back over your shoulder at Yoongi. He’s pulling his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans, fishing a condom out of one of the compartments. Wishin a couple of heartbeats he chucks the wallet to the floor, ripping open the foiled packet. Staring, you felt yourself get even more turned on at the sight of him rolling it down his length, all the way to the base. Seeing you watching, he moved forward and grabbed your hips roughly, jolting you back. He slapped your ass, lightly.

“Can I slap your ass hard?” The question is new to you, something you’ve never really done with your exes. Without hesitating or thinking, you agree. You want it. You want it so fucking badly.

The slap to your ass stings, and you cry out a little but bounce back towards his cock. You hear the soft murmur of “fuck” escape his lips, and he smacks you again. This time is harder, enough to bring tears to the corners of your eyes. As if knowing this is enough, Yoongi runs himself along your soaked slit, making sure to rub over your abused clit. Grabbing the pillow hard, you push back against him in a desperate attempt to have him finally fill you.

Grabbing your ass cheeks and squeezing hard, he pulls your body back and buries himself in your pussy. Slamming in all the way to the hilt, you both exclaim loudly at the explicit feeling. You moan sensually, while he grunts deeply. He doesn’t take more than a second, knowing you can handle it, before he’s slamming in and out of you hard. The slapping sound of your bodies meeting fills the studio, matching your moans with each harsh thrust. Gripping your hips, his fingers dig into your flesh as you bounce against him.

“Holy…fuck” you manage to gasp out, your eyelids fluttering at the feelings rushing from your core. He takes a hand from your hip and grabs a handful of your hair instead, pulling you even further back. His pulling is light, and doesn’t hurt your skull, but it’s enough to encourage you to move back harder.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” His words are said through gritted teeth, and you realise you’re closer to your second orgasm than you thought. Whispering “me too” into the thick air, you feel him drop your hair as he brings his hand down on your ass, slapping it harder than the previous ones. The mix of pleasure and pain brings you right over the edge, without him needing to even brush against your clit. Clenching around him, you cum, screaming your release. He reaches under you and grabs a handful of your tit as he finishes, banging in and out of your trembling pussy as it clenches him tight. He starts to slow as he rides out the end of his own orgasm, breathing heavily. His long breaths continue as he pulls out of you, hopping off the end of the bed. You feel a tinge of sadness at the loss, almost wanting him to have stayed in you; even if only for a few more minutes. Collapsing against the bed, you flip over exhaustedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. He pulls the condom off, scrunching his nose up at the feeling. You hold back a giggle at the his sigh of annoyance towards the rubbery mess. Throwing it in the bin, he makes his way back to the bed, watching you with a fondness you assumed could be accounted to the satisfying sex you’d just had. He rummaged through the clothes on the floor, bringing up your jumper and his underwear. Sliding them back on, he tosses you your jumper.

“Just in case you didn’t feel comfortable staying naked.” He gives you a crooked smile and you return it, pulling the warm jumper back over your skin. You feel sore, your pussy stretched and your butt burning a little from his punishing slaps. You feel good, really fucking good.

He crawls up into the bed, lying next to you on one of the extra pillows. You both slip under the sheet without a word, facing each other in the soft glow of grey floating in through the window.

“It’s still pouring rain.” You say, hearing the drops falling outside in a calming torrent.

“It is.” he says, smiling at you with softer, less harsh eyes.

“Tell me more about yourself, Y/N.” Smiling and rolling your eyes at his predictable request, you snuggled deeper into the blanket, still facing him.

Looking at the girl he had just fucked, with her messy hair, her jumper slipping off her shoulder, the blanket tousled around her body, and her head resting into the soft pillow while she told him about her frustrating housemate and workmate, Yoongi could only muster up three words to sum up his state of mind.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

134 notes · View notes

greyias · 6 years ago

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FIC: By the Guidance of Stars - Chapter 8

Title: By the Guidance of Stars Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Humor Synopsis: The Coalition tries to heal in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin 4, but not every wound is physical. A series of missing scenes set during the end of Shadow of Revan. Warnings: See Chapter 1. Author’s Note: Last of the previously posted chapters, although this version has been revised to adjust for canon and some other things that bugged me.

As twilight gave way to night, the oppressive humidity eased into a slightly uncomfortable mugginess, but the breeze atop the crumbling platform chased through the open crevices in Theron’s jacket, making him almost cold. It was absolutely wonderful, and he didn’t know why anyone ever came down from this place if this was the alternative to drowning in their own sweat in the main camp. Of course, his reasons for extending his stay up on the high vantage point might have been more than just escaping the uncomfortable jungle swelter. Everyone would be departing Yavin tomorrow and going their separate ways. The moment his head hit the pillow, tomorrow would come, and with it, farewells.

Until then, he had the night.

Theron had no idea what was going on with him. His chest felt light, like it might float away and take the rest of his body with it at any moment. It was almost like being drunk, without having to take shots from any of the flasks traveling around camp. He would have suspected someone had snuck something in the evening meal, except none of it had started until he had gotten up onto the platform. Part of him wanted to run far, far away until this temporary madness passed, and the other part of him just wanted to sweep his companion off her feet and just disappear into her embrace until the stars went cold, any onlookers be damned. Neither of those options made any logical sense, so instead he flopped down at the edge of the platform and let his legs dangle over the precipice. The feeling of nothingness meeting his feet and staring at the several hundred foot drop into the jungle below set his heart pumping and he leaned forward to try and find the bottom.

Apparently that was one step too far, because the action gained a startled shout. “What are you doing?”

He tossed a look back at the fretting Jedi. “Sitting. It’s fun.”

“What if you fall?”

He shot her a boyish grin. “Then you’ll catch me.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “With what? The Force?”

“I’ll let you figure out the details if it comes to that.”

“You have an awful lot of faith in my abilities to prevent you from doing something stupid.”

“You haven’t let me down yet.”

The sigh she let out was exasperated, but even in the darkness he could make out the corners of her lips twitching as she tried to repress a smile. “Why do you make a habit of being so reckless?”

“Because it’s fun.” He pat the open space next to him in invitation. “It’s a nice view. Why don’t you come over here and see?”

She crossed her arms, canting her hip at an angle. “And what if I fall?”

He met her stubborn irritation with a warm smile. “Then I’ll catch you.”

Grey shuffled forward a few steps, possibly without thinking about it, because she stopped with a sudden jerk and stared at him suspiciously. “And what if we both fall?”

“Well, then,” he leaned back on one palm, craning his neck so he could watch her every reaction in the starlight, “at least we’d be falling together. I’m sure between the two of us we’d figure something out.”

“You are impossible,” she muttered, but slid in next to him.

Gingerly she extended one leg off the edge, fist curled into what was probably a white knuckled grip under those gloves. He took pity on her, and extended his hand. She eyed it for a moment, before grasping it firmly and flinging the other leg off the edge dramatically. Her nod to him was defiant, even as her fingers formed a vice around his hand.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” he asked.

“It would be nicer with a railing.”

“That’d take out half the fun.” He lightly kicked her foot with his, earning a glare. “You don’t get an adrenaline rush if you know you can’t fall.”

“You don’t get enough of those while on the clock?”

“Do you?” he challenged.

In his mind’s eye, Theron could still see her blades twirling in a blur on on Tython. Could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his own veins as she risked her own life again and again with no hesitation. On Manaan. Rakata. Rishi. As innocent and proper an exterior she liked to present to the world, there was something wild and dangerous and irresistible lurking underneath that sweet facade. Someone a lot like himself. Just waiting for the right moment to burst forth.

“A Jedi doesn’t seek—“

He put a finger to her lips to stop the expected tirade, and leaned in a little closer. “I didn’t ask about a Jedi—I asked about you.”

She frowned, leaning back just enough so his finger slipped down from her lips to rest against her chin. “Do you really think there’s a difference?”

Theron didn’t break her gaze, and just nodded ever so slightly with a soft hum of agreement. There was much more to her than the perfect little Jedi she kept trying to pretend to be. Too many layers and mysteries underneath the surface, and he wanted to peel back each one until she was laid bare before him. In every sense and meaning of the phrase.

Her fingers were still wrapped around his one hand like an anchor, and she let out a small huff as she glanced away. “We were talking about you, not me.”

“If you say so,” he said softly, and slowly leaned back into his own space.

The uncertain expression that flashed across her face was just as confusing as the strange fever that had overtaken him since he’d climbed up onto this platform. If he looked too deeply into any of this he’d probably descend into madness, or whatever the next step was after his current stage of mania. Her fingers loosened their death grip, and he let his hand drop back to the ground. She stared at it, lips pursed together as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

“I don’t always understand you,” she said after a moment. “You say one thing, but do another. Yet I don’t ever get the sense that you’re being dishonest with either.”

“Are you talking about anything in particular, or just in general?”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense.”

“I haven’t really felt like I’ve been making much sense either,” he admitted quietly.

“Like dangling off the edge of a two-hundred foot drop for no reason?”

“I told you the reason,” he said lightly, “that it’s fun.”

“You probably find explosions fun too,” she said sourly.

“It depends on how close I am to the explosion.”

“What frightens me is I don’t think you’re joking.”

“As I said,” he sat up, leaning ever so slightly to peek over the edge, pretending to teeter a little just because he was kind of an ass, “a little danger never hurt anyone.”

“And a little caution doesn’t hurt anything either.” Her hand immediately grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back. A thrill shot through him both at the renewed contact and the protective gesture.

“I suppose we could meet somewhere in the middle.” He inched back from the edge a few inches and some of the tension relaxed out of her frame. “If you’d like.”

“Perhaps.” She edged closer to him and the precipice, hand anchored around his arm as she pressed against him. “But I draw the line at explosions.”

“Oh, come on,” his breath puffed across her skin as he leaned in closer, “you love explosions, and you know it.”

He couldn’t see her roll her eyes, but he heard the exasperated breath she let out before her lips brushed chastely against his for the first time since Rishi. Her hand was still clamped down tight on his arm, as if holding on for dear life. He felt her tongue flick between his lips, a delicate tease that he obliged as he deepened the kiss. A wave of heat crashed over him, and if he wasn’t careful he could easily drown.

It was just a small taste, but enough to light a deep, yearning hunger inside of Theron. Just like on Rishi, it reminded him of the exhilarating jolt coursing through his veins when space diving on Ruuria. Volcano boarding on Mima II. Base jumping off the Bubble Cliffs on Qiaxx. It was just as or even more intoxicating than every thrill he’d ever chased, and he wondered if every inch of her was just as much of a rush as this.

He eventually had to come up for air and broke away, her tiny moan of disappointment doing wonders for his ego. He leaned his forehead against hers, relishing in both the warmth of her skin and the soft tickle of her bangs. A soft tendril of breeze wrapped around them both, and he let his eyes drift shut as he tried to lean into this moment just as he had when they’d been watching the stars above. Wanting to make it last as long as humanly possible.

“I wanted to do that since you first stepped foot on Yavin,” he admitted quietly after several long moments.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, we were a little busy,” he said. “And we weren’t exactly alone.”

“This isn’t exactly a private space,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he breathed. “I just… wanted to do that one more time.”

“Only once?”

He opened his eyes to see hers meeting his. They sparkled with a mischievous glint that he was pretty sure would have earned her quite the lecture back in her Padawan days.

“More than once.” And more than just that, but the five million warnings from all of her nosy crewmates were echoing in his ears, and despite his better judgement, he heeded them. No one could ever accuse him of not listening after this, because damn if he didn’t want to pursue whatever this thing was to the very end. “Way more.”

“How many?” Her eyes crinkled as a bright smile lit up her face.

More than the number of stars in the sky, was the truth, but aloud he said, “I don’t know if you can count that high.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve learned a lot of numbers.” She caught his laugh in another kiss, and when she broke away, her eyes were still glittering. “See, that’s two.”

“And here I just thought you were just a pretty face that knew a thing or two about swinging around a lightsaber.”

“Nope. I’m very talented.”

“At just about everything that I can see.” And because he could, Theron brushed his lips against hers once more.

“And that’s three,” she murmured, “although I’m tempted to not count it.”

“I have to switch things up every now and then, otherwise you’ll get bored.”

“If there’s one thing I haven’t been since I met you, it’s bored.”

“I must be doing something right then.”

“You are.”

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him to her, pulling him in for another kiss. She sucked in his bottom lip and ran her tongue over the indentation of his recently healed skin. It had been swollen, split, and sore their first kiss, and her enthusiasm then had been dampened by his injured state. Now she was like an explorer slowly mapping out a new star system, almost as if she was trying to commit everything to memory.

That prompted a too deep thought about the next day’s impending departure, so he surged forward and deepened the kiss—turning it into something so Theron surged forward, deepening the kiss into something so breathless and wild he didn’t have time to think about anything else.

“Has anyone ever told you,” her words were quiet as she broke away, hardly a whisper on the air, “that you can be very distracting?”

“A time or two,” he said quietly. “What am I distracting you from?”

“Everything.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She shook her head ever so slightly, possibly without even realizing it. “I know what I’m supposed to say…”

“I’ve never been big on rules.” He brushed away the bangs that fell into her face, obscuring the stormy emotion beginning to brew in her eyes. “I find them too constricting.”

“I used to find the rules comforting. Everything in its place, and if you just followed them well enough, everything would turn out okay.”

“Used to?”

Her eyes dropped down to the ground then, expression falling as she shook her head. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

A hard lump settled in Theron’s throat as he looked at the dim expression, making it hard to swallow. All the sparkle and mischief had faded from her eyes, leaving a cold empty expanse as she stared unseeing down at the ground. Something in his chest tightened and he found himself picking up her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, unsure of what else to do. She blinked, as if summoned back to the here and now from wherever she had gone.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head lightly, as if trying to chase something away. “I think I broke the mood.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently, giving her hand another squeeze. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“We were having a good time, I… I let my mind wander.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying.”

“How are you supposed to know?” She laughed, but it was the choked desperate laughter of someone trying to hold on to their control.

“I feel like I should, or at least, not keep doing this to you.”

“It’s not just you. This just keeps happening. With everyone,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be better than this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

She shook her head quickly, giving the hand holding hers a tight, almost bone-breaking squeeze.

“I thought I was done with this. After Rishi… Master Orgus said he healed these scars left by… that should have fixed it. Shouldn’t it?”

From the quiet desperation in Grey’s voice, he had a feeling the question was more rhetorical than something he could really answer. Not that the jumble of words made a lot of sense to him. Wasn’t… Orgus Din her final master before her knighting? Hadn’t he been killed near the beginning of her career as a Jedi? To Theron’s knowledge she had never even visited Rishi before being lured there by him and Lana. And he hadn’t a clue what scars her former Master was supposed to have healed.

“I thought,” he said carefully, “that he had passed away a long time ago.”

“He… visited me while we were on Rishi.”

Theron almost asked about how exactly a dead man could just drop in for a chat and quick spiritual healing session, but if their encounters with Revan had taught him anything, it was that the Force was… weird. And complicated. And probably something he really didn’t want to think on too deeply because things like this just hurt his brain. Apparently even the boundaries of life and death were just mere technicalities to the Jedi like the one sitting next to him. Except Grey didn’t exactly look like the strong confident Jedi at the moment, more like a lost child looking for her parents. He could tolerate a few minutes of bizarre Force talk, if it helped ease that somehow.

“I’m sorry, I know this is strange.”

“No stranger than a half-zombie, half-ghost ancestor.”

The breath she exhaled was almost a wry laugh, but not quite. “That was a new one for me too.”

“At least we’re forging new territory together, eh?” He gave her hand a brief squeeze.

The corner of her mouth twitched up, nearly into a sad smile. “I suppose so.”

“So, was that the personal business you went to take care of before you headed to Torch’s Island?”

She nodded, giving him a sad smile. “He came to visit me one last time. I think he knew we weren’t going to succeed here on Yavin, and he wanted to try and help me one last time.”

“Masters are like that,” he agreed, his own thoughts briefly centering on Ngani Zho. “They just want what’s best for their Padawans.”

“He still called me that,” her eyes glittered with tears, “even as a ghost I was still his Padawan.”

“So is this whole Force ghost thing… common?” he asked uncertainly.

She shook her head. “When a Jedi passes, they’re supposed to become one with the Force. Usually they don’t stick around for long conversations.”

“I guess Master Orgus felt the need to make an exception,” Theron said carefully.

“You could say that,” she smiled shakily. “He always did have to do things his own way. Even death.”

He nodded mutely, unsure of what he could say exactly. The only thing that came to mind were questions that he had promised not to ask, and even if it was a stupid promise, he still wanted to keep it. It was so easy to break things, but he wanted to try and keep his word to her intact. The reason why that was important was still vague and distant, but his gut said it was, and Theron always listened to his gut.

“You surprise me,” she said quietly, “you ask questions, but never the big one.”

“I promised you I wasn’t going to pry,” he reminded her. “I don’t want to be someone who breaks promises to you.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn that.” He felt her other hand fold over his, enveloping it in a cocoon of gloved warmth. It was at that moment, he realized that he had never actually touched her with his bare fingers, that there had always been some sort of barrier between them. “It’s more than I deserve, but I’m grateful for it nonetheless.”

He didn’t have the proper elocution to properly unpack that statement and address it fully, but he felt the need to try, as inadequate as his own words were. “On Rishi. You came for me.”

Her lost expression softened as she met his eyes, but he was crap at decoding his own emotions, much less those of others. “Of course I did.”

“You didn’t have to.” His chest felt like someone was cleaving it in two, but he didn’t break his gaze, determined to try and at least attempt to finish his poor explanation. “I’m not used to that.”

“I will never leave you behind.”

The statement was uttered quietly, but so fiercely determined there was no doubt that she meant it. He swallowed, that lump still firmly lodged in his throat. The whole faith in others thing wasn’t usually in his repertoire, as it was a lot easier to glide on the default mode of skepticism. Everyone eventually moved on their own way, and logic said that nothing would be different this time. The determined look in her eye said exactly where logic could go, and Theron decided to side with the clear winner in this fight.

“I think I believe you,” he finally said, “which is kind of a first for me.”

“It won’t be the last,” she promised, wrapping her fingers around his tightly. “So get used to it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly, prompting a tiny sad smile.

“I wish I could be a brighter, stronger person for you. For everyone really, but you… make me want to be more.”

“I’m good with the person sitting with me right now,” he said. “You don’t need to be anything more than that.”

“You don’t need a fearless monster slayer? Someone who can look into the void and laugh?”

He shook his head. “That person doesn’t sound very fun.”

“She could be, if I tried.” Grey glanced down. “Maybe if I tried harder, I’d get there. And then hearing his voice again last night after all these years… it would have been fine.”

Theron pursed his lips together, feeling that hole in his chest starting to open up again. Here was the person in the rain last night, trying desperately to hide under armored plating and lightsabers. Not wanting to scare her off back under the thin Jedi veneer, he just ran his thumb along one of the elaborate pieces of metalwork on her glove, wishing that he could feel every groove in it directly instead of through the leather of his own gloves.

“You can ask,” she said brokenly, “if you want.”

Of course he wanted to — but this wasn’t about him. Not really. He just wanted to do the right thing here. Whatever that was.

When he finally looked up, he saw the unshed tears in her eyes, and felt that small, infinitesimal hole in his chest begin to widen into a gaping wound. “Do you want me to ask?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want to feel this way any more.”

“How do you feel?” he asked instead.

“Lost.” She bit her lip, looking away. “Like I’m back there again, even though I’m here. Like if I sleep too deeply, I won’t wake up as me.”

The nausea Theron had felt earlier after overhearing Scourge and Kira bubbled back up, filling the gaping hole with bile and a white, hot bubbling rage.

“I can’t wake up like that again,” she said so quietly he almost couldn’t hear. “Watching myself from afar, my body not my own. Screaming so loud but still unable to stop my hand. Have you ever been trapped in your own mind?”

“No,” he said hoarsely, trying to push the urge to vomit far back down. “I can’t even imagine… it sounds terrible.”

“I was so naive. I believed that anyone could be redeemed. Even him.”

There was such venom spat out in that single word, it only could have been reserved for something as unnatural as the ancient being that had been awakened the night before.

“I thought that there was always some small speck of light that could be brought out from even the darkest corner. I just had to trust in the Force, and it would guide me as it always does. It guided me… into darkness.” She swallowed, throat bobbing with the motion as she stared out at the shadowed landscape beyond. Almost as if she was expecting Vitiate to materialize from the darkness. “Just following the rules doesn’t work when someone ignores that they ever existed. It can’t protect anyone from that kind of evil.”

Theron thought of the fallen Jedi that she had chased after the six month gap in her file, and the dark ops leading up to that gap. Had they… stormed the Emperor’s Fortress, determined to capture him and bring him back to the light? How the hell did the Council think that would ever work? Capturing a supposedly immortal dark being and just force him to accept everything good and pure? That hot bubbling rage threatened to take him over.

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-two.”

He barely suppressed a curse. Sending a Knight, just barely two years into her career, to face down the almost literal embodiment of the Dark Side was just too much. Even with an entire team of dark ops Jedi. Even if they had sent her with the entire damn Republic army at her back it was too much. It would have been too much to ask even a wise and experienced Jedi Master like Ngani Zho and Orgus Din had been.

“They should never have asked you to do that.”

She blinked at him, surprised. “I volunteered.”

Of course she did. The moment he had brought his suspicions up with her regarding Darok, she had jumped on the chance to help him out. It was like she was incapable of just standing by if something bad was happening and had to try and fix it herself. That wasn’t the trait of a dedicated Jedi — it was the trait of someone with way too much to prove. He would know.

“I was never supposed to have innocent blood on my hands,” she whispered, “my lightsabers were never meant to be used for murder. No matter how much I wanted to stop, my hands wouldn’t listen to me. All I could hear was his laughter, his voice, telling me to give in. That he would make it all go away if I just gave over that last piece to him. Do you know what I did?”

Theron shook his head mutely.

“I hid. In the deepest corner of my mind, I hid. From him. From what he was making me do. I hid from everything. I was a coward.”

Theron wanted to pull her to him, tell her that she wasn’t, but he felt rooted to the spot. Somehow in defeating the demon from his past, they’d awakened hers. Pulling her back into what sounded like a living, waking nightmare. All he could do was squeeze his fingers around hers.

“In the end, I couldn’t even save myself.” Her voice was quiet, defeated. “Master Orgus’s spirit came from the Force and he found me, he was the one who broke the Emperor’s control over me. Everyone acts like I did something heroic and should be celebrated for breaking his control, when it was never even me to begin with.”

Here was the real truth, the real person he’d been seeking out that hid under that mask of the prefect Jedi. In her own way, the brave hero that everyone kept pinning their hopes on was just as broken as him. Struggling to live up to impossible standards and expectations. And just as lost and flawed and alone.

It took Theron a little while to find his voice, and when he spoke, it was rougher than he would have liked. “You still faced him down later, after all that?”

“Someone had to,” she said quietly, “and they all believed that I could. He was going to consume everything, all life. He was going to consume the Force. It was crying out. And even if it had abandoned me, I… couldn’t abandon it. Or everyone else. I couldn’t wait for the end to come without doing something. And no one else thought they could do it.”

“You didn’t either,” he pointed out softly.

She shook her head, like the fact that charging in to the demon’s lair was nothing noteworthy. Not too mention that she had done so after the kind of violation she’d been subjected to, and risked it happening again without any assurance. That would have been nearly impossible for anyone, and Theron had his doubts he would have been able to do it, even with literally the lives of every living thing in the galaxy on the line.

“When I was a child,” she said quietly, “I would pick up sticks in the forest and pretend they were my lightsabers. I only ever dreamed of being a Jedi, ever since my mother told me about her days as a Knight. I just wanted to be like her.”

That hadn’t been in her file. Actually, there hadn’t been much in it other than basic liner notes prior to her arrival on Tython. But she’d had a family once it seemed—and apparently a mother that she loved very much. There was a distant twang of jealousy, but it was swiftly carried away as he saw the wet tracks streaking down her face.

“I think she would be proud,” he said.

“She’s never visited me,” the confession came out broken, “not like Master Orgus. I wonder if… she wished I could have been stronger. More like her. She never had to throw away a bloodstained lightsaber. After Vitiate made me…” Her voice cracked and she had to swallow back the emotion that nearly dragged her under. “After I escaped, all I could see on mine was the blood, no matter how much I cleaned them.”

He knew absolutely nothing about Force ghosts or the woman in question, but from the reverent way Grey spoke of her, she had left quite an impression on her daughter. He wondered if that heavy, duty-filled legacy was one that had ever been truly intended to be passed on. He was far from an expert when it came to maternal figures and their intentions, but something in his gut told him that was probably not the case.

“Master Satele, I think she knew,” Grey continued, filling in the silence, “when she gave me the new hilts. She told me that a Jedi needed to have faith in the weapons she wielded, faith in the Force. She helped me construct the new blades before I left Tython.”

Theron let his gaze drop, eyes tracing the path he was making as he marked each divot and design in the gauntlets on her gloves. For everything he still held against his mother, apparently he still had a few things to learn about her. Satele had reached out to a scared, vulnerable Knight, and helped her find confidence again instead of delivering any sort of platitude or lecture. He thought back to their argument earlier that day, trying to fit this new piece of the puzzle into his previous assumptions. It didn’t quite match up, like the sharp edges of his preconceptions needed to be shaved down.

“I made a vow that I would never let these be turned to serve darkness. I couldn’t let something of Master Satele’s become tainted like I had let mine.” Grey’s free hand traced some of the patterns in the hilts clipped to her belt. “I let her keep my old ones. She promised she’d make sure they were never used like that again.”

“I didn’t know about that, earlier,” he said, struggling to swallow past that ever present lump. “I would never have even mentioned it…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She finally looked up from her lightsabers, pulling his gaze up from the patterns he was tracing as well. “You’ve done me no harm.”

Seeing her trying to console him, with the wet tracks still glistening on her cheeks was too much for him to take. Heedless of whoever might be able to see, he reached out and grabbed her, crushing her against his chest as if that could somehow fix anything. Her arms stilled for a moment as if this was something that hadn’t ever occurred before and she had no idea what to do, before suddenly curling around him, fingers digging deep trenches into the leather of his jacket like drowning victim clutching to a lifeline.

“Master Orgus said he couldn’t come back anymore.” Her face was buried in his jacket, voice muffled by the leather. “He was the only thing that brought me back last time. I… I can’t be trapped like that again. I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Theron murmured, tightening his arms around her small shivering frame. “He’s left. He’s not here.”

“No one’s saying anything, but they’re all terrified. Even Scourge. I didn’t finish the job last time, and now he’s back.” The shivering intensified to an actual tremble, and it felt like someone was shoving a vibroblade right through Theron’s chest. “I have to kill him, but he’s already dead. But he’s not alive either.”

The enormity of the task that had been assigned to her, by fate, or the Force, or whatever seemed to loom just off into the shadows of the night. The blame for Vitiate’s return at this moment in time, if not the assault and chaos on the Republic all the way three hundred years ago, lay squarely at Revan’s feet. It was the baggage of Theron’s own family, not hers. In a way, the responsibility for all of this should have laid at his feet. Perhaps if fate had twisted differently—if their places had been switched and he’d been born with all the powers of the Force that she wielded—it would have. Would he have been able to break away like her, or would he have wound up as twisted and broken as the rest of the members of her strike team?

Because Revan, for all his power and gifts in the Force, had cracked under the constant torture he’d been subjected to over the course of three hundred years. His psyche torn in two; one half twisted into something dark, monstrous, and almost unrecognizable from the Jedi he’d once been. Someone willing to commit mass genocide. Willing to upend everything if it meant he could get revenge against the one who had taken everything from him. Even Revan’s attempts to connect with what remained of his family had been tainted into something sick and twisted.

Theron couldn’t help but wonder if those same weaknesses ran through his blood in the way that the Force never had. It probably would never not sting, not grate on him a little when the Force peeked its head around to meddle in his life after the way it had abandoned him when he was young — but as he looked at the connections he shared with Grey, it was hard to completely deny that maybe it had somehow set something in motion.

Maybe they were both just meant to finish what Revan had started nearly three hundred years ago. Or maybe it was even more than that.

He had no idea how he was supposed to deal with any of this, Force-blind Jedi washout that he was. The task that lay before her was beyond his capabilities, but if they failed at stopping Vitiate, nothing would ultimately matter anyway. Even if Theron hadn’t been assigned as the task force’s liaison for the SIS, he would have busted down Marcus Trant’s door and camped out in his office until he’d gotten it. Whatever had happened prior to now was out of his hands, he couldn’t change any of their yesterdays, no matter how much he wanted to at the moment. But tomorrow wasn’t set yet, and he could still do something about that.

She had answered every one of his calls, even when he made her go through ridiculous lengths to find out it was him. The woman had stormed an entire fortress just for him. She was more than just his partner on this one job, she was his friend. Possibly the best one he had ever had. Maybe if he was really careful, did enough research, and did his job well enough, she’d never have to hear the voice of her tormentor ever again.

“What if I fall?” she asked brokenly, clinging to him tightly as they teetered on the edge of the platform with nothing but the inky night below.

“You won’t.” He tightened his grip around her quaking shoulders, as if he could shield her from the night. “You’re not going to fall.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m going to catch you.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, before glaring off into the night as if in challenge to the darkness just beyond them.

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #SoR Fic O Doom #sorry #it's loooooong #not much of the teaser text has changed #just... lots of stuff below the cut #i have poked and prodded at this chapter so much over the past almost two years #i think i may have finally gotten it to the point where i can prod it no longer #swtor #fanfic #and on the off chance tumblr mobile is still being a jerk #long post #greyfic

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