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butididntpourthewhiskeys · 4 years

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L O V E B O U N D

“Christmasbound III”

I know many of you never thought this day would come, but I’m glad to be back with our three favorites. please be kind, as I drafted this within a day. I genuinely hope you’ll like it. merry christmas from the fam xx

“And if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know you know, you’ll always know me. Dorothea. Uh uh”

She keeps her eyes closed, feels the warm and soft material underneath her huge headphones that cover the entirety of her ears. Surrounded by blankets and curtains, hanging right from her opened closet, Taylor feels the same warmth she’s always felt when recording music. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been in a professional setting. A recording studio with narrow walls and acoustic matts covering the walls.

This little home studio in her closet certainly doesn’t compare.

With her eyes still closed, Taylor moves her head with the beat of the music, mindlessly reaches for the headphones. She doesn’t have to open her eyes, doesn’t have to be able to hear the slightest noise beneath the music to know exactly that someone is making their way to her. It’s instinctive, it’s natural.

With the huge headphones now in her hands, Taylor stops the recording on her laptop that is placed on the little table on her right side and then slowly turns around. She smiles. Her five, almost six year old child is standing in the room. She’s barefoot. Her long Pajama pants covering her petite legs. Blonde and curly hair in all directions, obviously in need for a cuddle with her momma as she rubs her puffy eyes and walks straight towards her mom.

“Mornin’ honey.” Taylor just mumbles into the warm neck, a little laugh escaping her lips as she already feels Eleanor hugging her neck so tight. A tiny head is now placed on her shoulders. She sighs in her low voice, seems to be in her half asleep dreamland state. Taylor breathes her baby girl in, slowly rubs her small back up and down. This just never changes.

“How did you sleep?” Taylor asks her quietly, slowly pulls back to squish the tired and warm cheeks and presses a big kiss onto them a few times. Eleanor just stands there, obviously still tired.

“Good.” she says, her eyes on her momma’s big microphone in the midst of the bedroom. Taylor knows that this is as weird for Eleanor as it is for her. After all she’s never recorded an album from home. Eleanor knows that her mom writes songs on the piano or on the guitar sometimes, but this whole technical set- up is yet another thing that has become Eleanor’s new reality. This global pandemic really has brought many changes into the little girls life.

“What are you singing?” she says quietly, still looking up to the big round microphone on the stand where her mom is sitting.

“I’m recording this song I wrote, called Dorothea.”

Eleanor looks at Taylor with big eyes, the same big blue eyes she knows from someone else so well and nods slowly. Taylor laughs.

“Who is Dorothea?” she asks then and Taylor grins.

“That’s a good question. She’s a beautiful girl who’s moved away from the little old town she grew up in and became famous, and everyone knows her.”

The blonde signer can already see in the five year old’s face that this conversation won’t go anywhere. Eleanor nods distracted, as Taylor places the headphones on the table next to her and pulls Eleanor onto her lap.

“Breakfast?”

Eleanor nods. Taylor slowly gets up, the big girl on her arms while making her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Eleanor slowly cuddles herself once more into her arms and Taylor doesn’t complain. Currently, she absorbs every second of this clingy and cuddly phase that her daughter is going through. Taylor immediately has to think of the words of her pediatrician from the other week ago. This current global crisis is a big mystery for children. Everyone wears masks. No more playing with friends. No leaving the house anymore. How scary this must be for someone who doesn’t understand the world yet? Taylor knows that Eleanor has every reason to be clingy and needy of her mom during this time. And she enjoys this phase more than she ever thought she would. Back when Eleanor was a baby, she would sometimes dream about what it would be like to have a child who can play by herself, use the bathroom by herself, eat by herself. Now that her baby girl is in her last year of pre- school, Taylor realizes that time is just a construct and that every cuddle and every hug is only temporary. But it’s appreciated. So incredibly appreciated.

“Are you looking forward to your ladybug class today?” Taylor whispers into Eleanor’s ears and the little girl nods excitedly, just as Taylor places her on the marble counter right downstairs in the kitchen. Taylor grins, slowly opens the fridge.

“Today we have to bring our favorite teddy bear and I want to bring Benji.” Eleanor says excitedly, as Taylor just looks at her daughter and laughs.

“Don’t you think Miss Clarkson will know that he’s a real life cat and not a teddy bear?” Taylor says amusedly while pouring some oat milk into a little cup right on the stove. In her light blue pajamas, just like Eleanor’s, Taylor brings the milk to heat up and looks back at the curly head who’s already playing with the little miniature dolls she left on the counter last night.

“No because daddy always says Benji is a little bear!” Eleanor says laughing, seems to be more than excited about her clever idea. And if her dad says so, then it has to be right. Taylor grins at her baby girl while preparing her hot chocolate. She knows exactly how important Joe’s words are for the little girl. Eleanor is already focused on her little dolls again, seems to have almost forgotten that Taylor is in the room with her, and sings quietly while playing around.

“Here’s your hot chocolate.” Taylor says, pronouncing the last two words in an extra British way to make her daughter laugh. Eleanor takes the big cup with the kitties on the front right from her, and pulls out her tongue laughing. Taylor just laughs as well, both her hands on her head fixing the little curls.

"Mummy, it’s hot chocolate.” the five year old replies, automatically switched to her British accent, loves to correct her mum when it comes to pronouncing words the British way. Taylor will never be less impressed by the fact that her child is able to switch accents perfectly within the matter of five seconds. A perk of having multinational parents and growing up in two countries at the same time.

“My little British baby.” Taylor grins, then steals Eleanor’s forehead a kiss.

“Mommy, can we go to the park today with daddy?”

Taylor doesn’t say anything for a second, fixes Eleanor’s strand of hair before letting go off her. She stands right in front of the counter where Eleanor is sitting and slurping her hot cocoa. Taylor just quietly nods and Eleanor’s eyes seem to light up just within a few seconds.

“We have to speak to daddy anyways today and see what we’re gonna do for Christmas this year.”

“Mommy can we please celebrate with daddy and grandma?” Eleanor immediately says, places the mug next to her and starts pulling on her mom’s pajama shirt. Taylor knows this version of Eleanor too well. Whenever she really wants something she becomes all clingy and impatient. Taylor just sighs.

“Baby, we can’t celebrate all together because of covid. I explained that to you before.” Taylor says carefully, looks into Eleanor’s pouty face in the hope to find understanding.

“I promised you that you will see daddy and grandma for Christmas, we just... haven’t worked out a concrete plan yet.”

Eleanor doesn’t seem to understand what her mom just said, but she nods. The same pout as before. This quarantine situation is hard on Eleanor. Taylor knows that too well.

“Okay.” Eleanor just mouths quietly. Taylor smiles silently. Within a few seconds, her lips are meeting the tiny forehead again. Lips pressed against the soft skin, she kisses her daughter a few times, whispering a low “I love you” in between. Eleanor replies as lightly as always and Taylor helps her jump down from the counter. She quickly encounters Olivia and Benjamin who just made their way to the kitchen to greet the little girl that just got up. Taylor smiles at Eleanor and her quirky way of speaking with the cats. Just like siblings. It makes her laugh sometimes.

“Okay, Liv. You can play with me but you can’t steal my wedding dress again.” Eleanor says in all seriousness to Olivia as the two cats and the little girl disappear up the stairs. Taylor looks amusedly after them, slowly makes her way to the coffee machine and reaches for her phone that she left here this morning when she made herself coffee number one. With her favorite baby blue cup under the coffee machine, she presses the button and waits a few seconds. Her eyes wander onto her phone screen. Right on top of the background picture of Eleanor in the snow, Taylor reads the texts she missed from her friend Martha. Once Eleanor is with Joe, she definitely needs a class of wine and a good catch up session with her friends.

“Did you put on your warm socks?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Taylor yells back upstairs at her daughter, as she crunches down to grab the cat treats that are buried in the depths of her kitchen drawer. She immediately sees a very excited Benjamin come closer. Taylor grins at him.

“Of course you are the first one to be in line for treats huh.” she grins, immediately pets him on his head before feeding him.

Just when Taylor was about to close the drawer again, she can hear the doorbell ring. Within a matter of seconds, a very excited Eleanor storms downstairs. Taylor gets up, checks the little screen in the kitchen and feels her stomach churn. It’s always like that, every week when he stands in her front door. The black and white security camera still managing to point out his kind eyes, his voluminous hair, his effortlessness. He’s wearing his thick APC coat. The one he wore years ago when they first met. She still can’t believe he won’t get rid of it, has pointed this out to him multiple times already.

“It’s daddy!” Eleanor yells, and Taylor can already hear Joe’s quiet laugh. Of course there’s never a time when Eleanor simply leaves with Joe and not makes her face him in the doorway. Taylor just approaches Eleanor who’s standing in front of the opened door, looking back at her mum, waiting patiently for her to join her here. Sometimes, Taylor could almost think that she does this on purpose. That she makes sure Taylor has to face her dad every time he comes around to pick her up.

Within a few seconds, Taylor stands in front of him now too, her hand stroking over Eleanor’s wool beanie. The little girl is fully dressed for the winter park, her tiny green jacket matching her cream- colored beanie. Joe almost has no time to face Taylor, because Eleanor is already attacking him, jumping onto his arms to hug him tightly. He immediately picks the small girl up and spins her around a few times, groaning into her ears how much he missed her, placing a little kiss on top of he beanie on her head. Just when he slowly lets her back down to the ground is when Joe has the time to face Taylor. For once. She just stands there in her cream colored onesie, the one she used to hang out around the house with even back when they were still together. Her feet still wear the same weird fox slippers he used to make fun of. Her hair loosely hanging from the little bun in her neck. She’s not well put together, looks exactly the way only he used to see her around the house. And Joe hates it. He hates that she faces him today, looking like this again. Looking the way she did the first time he stayed over at her place in New York years ago. Not trying at all. Making him feel things he promised himself after last Christmas, to never feel again. Store them under the bed, right in the little box of his past and to lock her up, right in there. And make sure they won’t creep up again, the way they do right now.

“Hey.” she mumbles, a polite smile escaping her mouth. Joe takes a breath, looks at Eleanor to distract himself for a bit, before looking back up at her again. Facing her has never been easy since last year. But he’s getting better at it.

“Hey, I didn’t see you last time.” he already blurts out, has no clue why his nervous mouth has to just babble like this, without taking into consideration that it makes him look a bit weird and... nervous. Taylor seems just as uncomfortable as he is, laughs insecurely once more, then scratches the back of her head while standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, I was on a meeting last time you picked her up so..”

Joe just nods. He shouldn’t have said what he said before. Things are already awkward enough between them.

“Ready to leave, monkey?” He asks Eleanor, who is now sitting on the floor right next to the open door, putting her winter boots on. She nods immediately, seems to struggle a bit with her shoe laces, but is way too excited to sit still while looking at the big dog next to Joe. Taylor smiles. Eleanor loves Flint as much as the cats, always has and always will.

“Yes, daddy. Can I hold Flint again, later?”

“Of course. He’s so happy to see you too.” Joe mumbles with a smile on his face, crouches down to pet the big old golden retriever.

“Mummy, can you join us too?” Eleanor pouts, looking up at her mum from the floor.

Taylor laughs nervously a third time today, just shakes her head no. She can feel Joe’s stare in her neck, knows exactly why he’s so quiet all of the sudden.

“Honey, I told you I have some more work to do.”

“But mummy..” Eleanor pouts again, becoming as whiny as always when she wants something and Taylor just sighs.

“It’s good to get some fresh air. Especially now with the whole quarantine thing.” Joe says lightly, and Taylor turns to look at him. She knows his look and he knows hers.

He tried this before.

And so did she.

“I don’t know, I think it’s Eleanor and Daddy time, and…”

“No mummy, please. We can play with Flint together!” Eleanor tries again, now stands fully upright with her winter jacket and red boots next to her, and reaches for her mom’s hand. Taylor just sighs again, looks at Joe once more. She’s rolling her eyes and it makes Joe laugh. He just smiles, knows exactly how good their daughter is at getting what she wants, but makes sure not to look into Taylor’s eyes for too long. It feels like a welcoming distraction when Eleanor suddenly gets closer to him, lets herself fall onto his side once more, just hugging her dad’s leg before petting Flint again.

“Look mummy, he wants you to come with us.” Eleanor persists, points at Flint who just looks up at Tay. This old dog knows as well what the little girl is trying here.

Taylor just shakes her head and laughs. Eleanor definitely has that from her.

“Alright, if dad doesn’t mind..”

“He doesn’t.” Joe grins, and Taylor just nods, takes a step back to signal him that they can come back inside the house for a minute, just until she’s ready.

“Let me just put on some clothes, I’ll be back in a second.” she mumbles, already starts walking upstairs. Joe just closes the big door behind him, feels the warmth of this house and already smells the sandalwood candles coming from the kitchen. It smells like something he used to know so well. It smells like home.

“Daddy, come look at my pre- school folder.” Eleanor runs off yelling for him. With Flint next to him, Joe just laughs at his daughter.

“Darling, my shoes are a bit dirty from outside, I don’t..”

“Please daddy!” Eleanor calls him from the kitchen already. Joe quickly takes his shoes off with one hand, then makes his way into the kitchen. He has to swallow for a second as his eyes fall onto the picture frames placed upon the chimney. All the black and white pictures of the little baby girl. Taylor and Eleanor in the hospital bed. Benjamin and Eleanor on her first birthday. Pictures he took. Pictures that once meant the world to him. And she’s kept it all, certainly made this place a home.

“Daddy, look, I made this yesterday.” She squirms excitedly, holds the folder right in front of Joe. She’s fully clothed and ready for the cold. Joe has to laugh at her excitement to show him what she’s made.

“Wow, darling.” He just mumbles, is already crouching down to get a better look at her art project. A big rainbow fish, filled with glitter and confetti decorates the cover. In the middle of the front page, it says Eleanor Alwyn. Pre- School Class of 2020. He couldn’t be prouder.

“Look, this is a picture of me and mummy in lockdown.” she explains once Joe has opened the first page. He can’t help but smile.

“What are you two doing?” He asks.

“We’re watching a Christmas movie, look!” she says, her tiny finger pointing to what seems to be the television. He can’t help but laugh again, slowly turns his head to press a kiss onto her small face. There are no words for how much he loves this little girl.

“Have you and mum watched many of these this year?”

“Yes!” she just answers, and Joe laughs. Just in that moment, Taylor comes back into the room and sees the two crouching on the kitchen floor with her art folder. Flint is just sitting next to them, looking less excited about the scenery than Joe.

“I’m ready.” she just mumbles, and Joe looks up at her. He’s still smiling, seems to love what Eleanor is showing him.

“Are you showing daddy your pre- school folder?” Taylor laughs, as Joe looks up at her. He seems to catch himself becoming emotional, and slowly gets up.

“I’m so impressed what you two have been doing in quarantine.” He says with a smirk and Taylor can’t help but laugh as well.

“We’ve been very productive, haven’t we?” Taylor says and Eleanor nods, seems to not have understood the sarcasm between her parents.

“Ready?” Joe asks, looks at Taylor with a questioning look. Instead of getting dressed, she just threw a massive puff jacket over her onesie, a pair of black boots replacing the fox slippers and her blonde hair right under the grey beanie.

“Yeah, I was too lazy to get dressed so…”

“Alright, let’s go.” Joe mumbles, doesn’t comment her choice of outfit any further. Within a few seconds, they have left the house, started walking right into Camberbatch Road, and down the little lane to get closer to Hampstead Park. Whilst today was one of the coldest days so far, the sun is still up, sometimes disappearing behind the thick clouds, but steadily there. Making sure to come back and warm up this cold world at least for some time.

Eleanor has been as chatty as always when Joe picks her up to go for a walk in the park. For the first few minutes she’s been walking hand in hand with her dad, telling him about today’s class and how excited her class mates on Zoom have been when Benjamin showed up as her teddy bear. Taylor just listens quietly to their conversation and smiles. It’s been a good idea to get some fresh air, even if things with Joe are still more than awkward.

“Has he been sitting still?” Joe asks Eleanor, who immediately starts laughing, throws her head against her dad’s arm just being silly.

“No.” She laughs and so does Joe. He looks at Taylor and she grins as well.

“I mean what would you expect of Benji, huh?”

“Nothing less.” Joe answers.

A few minutes later the the three have reached the beginning of the Heath and the five year old girl impatiently starts to reach for Flint’s leash. She is getting more and more impatient the closer they came to the big park. Joe quickly stops and then crouches down to be able to properly look at his daughter.

“Alright bug, be careful and come back to me if another dog comes along, alright?” he asks and Eleanor excitedly nods, as Joe gives her Flint’s leash. Whilst the dog is almost her height, Eleanor confidently starts to run off onto the grass together with Flint by her side. Despite her huge puff jacket, she’s able to run as fast as humanly possible. Joe looks after them, can’t help but laugh quietly as well.

“Her confidence is everything.” Taylor mumbles while looking after her daughter, making Joe smirk.

“She’s done this many times, she can handle him.”

“Oh yeah I know, I.. I didn’t mean that.” She quickly adds and Joe nods, has no clue where the sudden awkwardness is coming from. He simply stares on the ground, can’t dare to look up to her or even right into her face. All he does is look at his feet, how his big winter boots are walking right on the cold ground. There’s not many people around, but more people than usually, two days before Christmas.

“So how are you?” Joe then asks, lifts up his head to look at what’s right in front of him, sees Eleanor and Flint playing and running on the fields at Hampstead Heath. Just like he did when he was Eleanor’s age. Right on the same grass. A nice circle that’s closing for him.

“I’m good. What about you? How has quarantine been treating you?” She asks, feels his slight laugh, even if she doesn’t look at him.

“It’s been fine. Just really annoying that we’re going back to Tier 4 again.” he mumbles, is more than happy that coronavirus is once more a great small talk topic to avoid awkward silences.

Taylor immediately nods, then even dares to look up at him while walking through the park.

“Ugh I know. This year has been such a mess.” she mumbles and Joe immediately nods.

“It really has been. I’m glad you two are staying safe not traveling.” Joe then says and dares to look at Taylor for the first time today. Taylor looks back at him, then sinks her head covered in her grey beanie once more. She knows exactly how he meant his last statement, and it’s hard for her to take. To feel how much he cares. For both of them. Still.

“Of course. It’s impossible for us to fly around during this time, especially cause pre- school has been extending their classes to make sure the kids are busy until things go back to normal. So it’s been great for her to have a daily schedule to see her friends.” Taylor says, looks at Eleanor who’s no more than a hundred meters away from both of them, running wild with Flint, who seems to barely be able to keep up with her. This poor old dog.

“Absolutely. You’re.. you’re doing a fantastic job being home with her 24/7. I... I hope you know that if it gets too much, you can just drop her off for a few days and I’ll keep her busy.”

Taylor looks at Joe and smiles. He’s never offered this to her since they’ve been in lockdown, and it’s more appreciated than he can imagine. With her bare face, Taylor smiles at him, her breath visible in front of her face due to the cold.

“Thanks, I think I might actually have to take on that offer.” She says, a laughing breath of air escaping her. Joe looks up at her once more, a bit confused.

“It’s exhausting to keep her busy 24/7. I’ve been trying to work, but...”

“Taylor, seriously, I live two kilometers away, why didn’t you ask me...”

Taylor wants to interrupt him and explain herself, but she knows too well that there’s no reason for her not calling him. There’s no reason why she didn’t ask for his help, why she didn’t simply put Eleanor in a car and let her stay at his house for a while. There is no reason, and it’s the first time that she realizes that herself might be the only reason for the distance between them right now.

“I... I didn’t know this is something you’d want to do.” She says then, knowing damn well that she’s lying.

“Of course, just... just have her stay with me for a few days after Christmas if you want.” Taylor doesn’t interrupt him, just nods as they continue walking down the Heath. The trees look so sad, have lost their leaves months ago already. Rotten and almost forgotten, do these leaves now remain on the ground, buried under the footprints of the endless amounts of people walking down this park this winter, trying to escape the prison of quarantine. Taylor has noticed before how many people have started going on hikes, connecting with nature again to escape being home all the time. A crazy dynamic for the world they’re all living in.

“Speaking of Christmas,” she then says, kind of happy that she’s been able to change topics.

“So as you probably know, there’s no way we can visit my parents this year or vice versa so I wanted to ask if it’s fine for you if Eleanor and me celebrate at my house on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day and a day later if you want, you can have her for a few days?” she asks, as Joe already looks up at her with a confused look.

“So you want to be alone with Eleanor for Christmas basically?” he asks again, and Taylor can already hear the mood changing in his voice. She really doesn’t want this to turn into an argument, she doesn’t want to disagree with Joe while having a conversation with him for the first time in months.

“I mean we’re in quarantine. The government literally told us to...”

“Tay, she’s five.” Joe suddenly interrupts her, and Taylor doesn’t know what hurts her more. The fact that he called her Tay, which is what only her closest people call her or the fact that he seems upset. She can feel that in his voice.

“She’s five years old and she’s got her dad and her uncles and her grandparents live.. a few meters away. I mean I appreciate that you want to keep her safe but we’re all getting tested tomorrow morning and I really want her to at least have a good Christmas especially in such a shitty year.”

Taylor doesn’t say anything, feels Joe becoming quieter and looking back at her.

“I just...”

“I want you to join as well.” he then suddenly blurts out, and within a matter of seconds, Taylor’s stops and looks at him in confusion. Joe turns around to her, his hands buried in his jacket. It’s freezing and he’s never been happier for the pockets in his black jacket.

“Joe, I... I appreciate you..”

“No Tay, I’m serious. I don’t want you and Eleanor be all alone on Christmas. Not her and not you. It’s... we’re....”

She can feel him search for words and it already pains her. He hasn’t said it yet and she doesn’t want him to. She knows what’s coming. She knows it too well.

“In some ways we’re still a family and I just don’t want you to sit alone in this house on Christmas Day. With or without Eleanor and...”

“Joe.” Taylor says. Her hand on his arm, she was just about to say something as Eleanor comes running by, seems more than upset. Immediately, Joe understands the situation. Flint has run off, right up to a couple with a small dog. Joe whistles twice and Flint quickly comes running back. “Did he run off?” Joe asks her, as Eleanor just nods quietly. Within a few seconds, Taylor has crouched down onto Eleanor’s height, takes her into her arms. Joe looks confused at the two, only then realized that Eleanor fell when Flint was running off.

“Oh darling, did you hurt yourself?” he asks as Taylor already signals him that the fall wasn’t that bad. Just when she lets go off Eleanor, the little girl hugs her dad once more, crocodile tears falling down her cheeks.

“I hurt my hand” she sobs, and Joe immediately reaches for the slightly bruised and cold hand and kisses it a few times, warming her up.

“My poor little angel.” he mumbles and Eleanor hugs her dad again, placing her head on his shoulders. Taylor can’t help but swallow down a laugh. Eleanor loves to be dramatic, another thing she’s got from her mother. And this little girl also enjoys her dad’s attention more than anything in this world.

“Look, there’s Flint.” Joe then says, just when the dog came running back. Eleanor quickly lets go of Joe and looks at the dog with an upset face.

“You hurt me when you ran off, Flint.” Eleanor says as dramatic as she can be and Taylor as well as Joe try their hardest to stay serious.

“I think he’s sorry, isn’t he..” Joe mumbles and pets the confused dog a bit. Eleanor also seems to calm down slowly and runs her hand over the dog’s head a few times.

“It’s okay, Flinty.” she then mumbles and Joe laughs, moves his head to kiss her head once more.

“Come on, let’s keep walking together.” Joe says and Eleanor keeps walking next to her dad, hand in hand. After a few minutes, she lets go off his hand once more and runs off. Taylor just looks at her mini- me and smiles.

How quickly to forget, as a child. How easy to leave a situation and simply move on.

“Alright, alright. One hot chocolate with caramel and whip cream for miss E.” Joe repeats with a laugh on his face, taking his face mask out of his pockets while letting go off Eleanor’s little hand.

“What can I get you?” He asks Taylor. It’s slowly getting dark outside and they’ve made it back, are now standing in front of the little Starbucks located in the heart of Hampstead Village. Just three shops are open at the moment, offering hot beverages and meals for take away. He can see in Taylor’s make up free face how cold she is. Her cheeks are red and her hands are buried in her own puff jacket pockets. She certainly needs a drink to warm up as much as he does.

“Mhm maybe…”

“Skinny Caramel Latte?”

Taylor looks at him, can’t help but smile. She can’t believe he still knows her so well.

“Sounds good.”

Joe laughs, winks at her and disappears inside. Taylor looks after him, waiting outside. It’s hard for her to believe sometimes how he hasn’t changed at all. He still knows every little detail of her by heart, and so does she. But maybe, just maybe, he has changed? Maybe he has been able to change for all the reasons she wanted him to, exactly a year ago. A year ago, when she had a piece of what she once knew. A piece of Joe, something she had to leave behind once more. For her, but even more for Eleanor.

Taylor slowly crouches down to Eleanor, who stands next to Flint and carefully pets his head.

“Are you cold?” Taylor asks her quietly, but Eleanor shakes her head. She’s exhausted and tired from all the running around and fresh air she’s had today. Taylor can sense that. After the sugar crash from her hot chocolate, Eleanor will certainly sleep well tonight. A gift for her mother also.

“That was such a fun day with dad, huh?” Taylor asks with an uplifted voice, and Eleanor nods as well. Something is upsetting her. Taylor can sense this immediately.

Wrapped up in her big jacket and beanie covering her ears, Eleanor just stands there. She’s become so quiet since the last few minutes, just strokes Flint’s head up and down.

“What’s up, baby?” Taylor says quietly, enjoys being so close to her that nobody can hear her but Eleanor.

Taylor doesn’t get an answer, just witnesses how the corners of Eleanor’s mouth are slowly drooping. In slight shock, Taylor just takes Eleanor into her arms. The little girl starts crying for a second time today, but this time it’s not because she’s hurt her hand.

“Baby, what’s.. what’s going on? Why are you sad?” Taylor just asks, a bit worried, her hand immediately in her beanie, comforting the cold little girl in her arms. Eleanor slowly lets go off Taylor’s chest and just stares at her mommy. She immediately wipes away the little tears from Eleanor’s cheeks with her thumbs.

“I don’t want daddy to go home.”

Taylor feels a punch in her stomach. She knew it. She could’ve known that this would happen.

“Honey, daddy is first of all getting you a hot chocolate and then..”

“And then he will go home but I don’t want him to go home.” she gets whiny again, and Taylor doesn’t answer, just kisses the cheeky little face a few times. When Taylor and Joe spent time together over Christmas last year, Eleanor had a similar breakdown. And Taylor knows why. It brings back old memories of mommy and daddy together with her. It brings back memories of dad leaving. Memories of her moving into a different house. A house where daddy isn’t living at anymore.

“I promise you, we will see daddy in a few days. Okay?”

Eleanor doesn’t answer, and Taylor feels her heart breaking once more.

This was never what she wanted. This was never what she wanted that day, when Eleanor was laying on her bare chest, opening her eyes for the first time. This was never part of all the promises she gave to the little girl in her arms.

Just when Taylor was about to comfort her once more, Joe comes out of the shop again, a little brown craft tray with three cups in his hands. As he takes off his mask, he can see Eleanor’s face and the wet little cheeks coming out of the beanie and warm jacket she’s wearing. He can see Taylor’s look. He can feel it up his spine.

“Hey, love. Your hot chocolate.” He just gently says, crouches down to Eleanor just like Taylor did. Eleanor is not crying anymore, but she seems sad. Joe feels that.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, and Eleanor just falls into another hug with him. Joe almost drops the little paper tray, as Taylor takes it from him within a few seconds, holding Flint’s leash in her other hand as well. Joe just hugs his little daughter back, is obviously confused.

“Sweetheart..”

“Daddy, can you stay with us tonight..”

“Eleanor!” Taylor interrupts her, as Joe just signals Taylor he’s handling this.

“Darling, why do you want that?” He whispers into her ear. Eleanor just looks up at him, still whining.

“Because you always go home after we played with Flint.” She says, Joe knows exactly what she means.

“That’s cause it’s almost dark, my love.” He says, holding her head in his hands. He slowly kisses her forehead once, and then her lips.

“How about we go home and have our hot chocolate, and then if it’s fine with mummy we can play in your room a bit longer, huh?” Joe says to comfort Eleanor, already got a comforting nod from Taylor. She just stands there, feels shattered for the hundredth time since they’ve been doing this. It’s certainly not the first time that Eleanor is reacting like this after they’ve spent time together. Taylor knows that she misses him. That Eleanor remembers what it was like when dad didn’t have to “go home” and her sleeping place was right between both of them. It’s rare but these are the moments in which Taylor feels like she failed. Feels like she’s been telling herself and Eleanor a big fat lie. The lie that being separated from Joe, would be the right thing. The lie that Joe is the one who brings uncertainty into her life. A lie that’s been reality for her for so many months on end.

She can’t and won’t forget that.

Joe slowly gets up, kisses Eleanor’s cold little mouth one more time.

“Daddy might live somewhere else, but I’m never gone. You can always visit me, and I will always visit you.”

Eleanor immediately reaches for her hot chocolate that Taylor is giving to her and nods. She seems to be happy with his answer - for now. She nips on the cup one time, her eyes still puffy from her tears.

“Good?” Joe asks and she nods.

“Good.” She answers and he laughs quietly. She already has a chocolate mustache in her face.

Joe can’t dare to look at Taylor’s face again, just takes his coffee from the tray in her hands as they slowly start walking home. For the rest of the walk, Taylor is quiet. A bit too quiet for his taste. He knows how she feels, can feel it through her wool beanie and puff jacket. She feels guilty. She feels guilty for something she shouldn’t feel guilty about.

Just when the three arrive at the front door of the big house, Taylor takes out the key from her pockets and opens up. Eleanor is busy telling Joe about her friend Rosie’s doll house that she misses playing with and how she wishes that Santa Claus would get her the same.

Taylor still says nothing. Joe slowly gets in, looks at Taylor who just closes the door.

“Do you want me to put Flint into…”

“Oh yeah, let me get him some water and we can have him wait downstairs. I think the cats would..”

“Yeah sounds great.” Joe says, and thankfully passes Flint on the leash to Taylor. After all, the cats have never got along well with him and they shouldn’t be risking the animals getting into a fight tonight.

Joe just watches her immediately walk off with him, takes off his shoes himself.

The steps on the staircase creak louder than he intended, slowly makes his way downstairs. Joe is only wearing black socks, his jeans and long sleeve casually covering his upper body. He slowly glances into the living room, can see the big flat screen tv running, but Taylor is nowhere to be seen. Candles on the coffee tableare lit, the little lamp at the end of the big living room turned on, lighting up the room in the most cozy way. He smiles. Taylor always knew how to make a place a home. As he takes a few more steps into the living room, Joe suddenly realizes that Taylor is passed out on the couch, her back facing him from where he stands. He slowly walks up to the tv, doesn’t want to startle her. He remains silent. Taylor is hugging one of the big orchid colored pillows, sleeps silently. The fresh air today seems to have not just helped Eleanor pass out faster than usual - it has made her tired as well. Joe doesn’t move, just looks at her sleeping. This has always been his weakness. Her most angelic state, asleep, right next to him. Joe slowly moves, places his hand on her arm, trying to wake her up gently.

“Hey, Tay..”

After a second, Tay wakes up and is startled. She quickly sits up, looks at him confusedly and Joe grins. He knows that look too well. She’s always needed a second to come back to life after being asleep.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to…”

“Oh, no no.” she quickly says, scratches her head on the side she’s been laying on. This side of her face has imprinted the pattern of the pillow. Joe smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m.. I’m sorry, I just passed out.”

Joe nods softly.

“No problem, I just wanted to let you know that Eleanor’s asleep as well. We were playing with her dolls and it took her half an hour to pass out on the carpet. So I just tucked her to bed. Hope that’s alright…”

“Yeah, perfect. Thank you so much.” she says.

“Alright, I’m going to get going then.” Joe says. Taylor was about to get up to accompany him to the door as she realizes that they haven’t finished speaking about Christmas.

“Oh, uhm Joe, can we.. can we quickly speak about Christmas before you leave?” She asks. Joe immediately nods, casually comes around to where she’s sitting and lets himself fall onto the place next to her, right on the big and comfy couch.

“I almost forgot, you’re right.”

“I just…” Tay turns down the volume of the tv and looks at him. “Joe, I just wanted to say that… that first of all…”

He can see that she’s thought this through, watches her play with her hands in nervousness while speaking. He knows her too well for her to hide anything. He knows every gesture, every look, every single detail of her body language. She is nervous. She is looking for the right way to say whatever she needs to say.

“First of all, I appreciate your kindness. So much. In.. in you thinking of me and wanting to invite me for Christmas, but..”

“But?”

“But I really thought about this earlier, and I came to the decision that I want you and Eleanor to celebrate together with your family like you did last year. I really am fine being home with the cats. I’m going to FaceTime my family, watch a movie and go to bed. I think this year the circumstances are even weirder than last year, so I would really prefer to lay low and…”

“May I.. may I say something?”

Taylor looks at him a bit confused, is not used to him interrupting her in this way.

“Uhm, sure.”

“I spoke to my family about this a lot. About how weird things have been between my parents and you. I mean.. you haven’t seen them since Christmas last year and we both know how weird the circumstances were.” He says, referring to the last Christmas. The last time they’ve seen each other. Back when she and Joe were repeating old patterns, making old mistakes. Back then, when she begged him so much to change. Begged him to undo the past years.

Taylor looks at him in shock, thinking about the fact that his family has been speaking about her. She has no idea where this is going, but she surely knows that her hands are getting sweatier the second they speak.

“And… Tay, I…” he stops again, looks at the insides of his hands. She’s barely experienced Joe like this. The only time he’s searched for words was when he asked her to marry him, years ago, years before Eleanor was in the picture and she turned him down. Bits and pieces of their history coming up in her while he sits there, as handsome as always, speaking to her.

“I know a lot happened between us, but.. this year, more than ever, I realized that you and me we will always be family. You.. you’re Eleanor’s mum. You’re my daughter’s mother. And I want us to achieve what we didn’t manage to achieve last year. Being friends. Being family. I just.. I wish we could be fine again.”

Taylor feels goosebumps coming up, immediately nods. She relates to what he says. They will forever be connected. They will forever have to see each other. And things certainly would be easier, if they were cool with each other and she wouldn’t have to go into hiding whenever he comes to pick up his daughter.

“I know, Joe. Me too, really.”

“And actually, it was my mum’s idea. She.. she asked me to speak to you. And to ask if you want to come over on Christmas Eve. As I said, we will all get tested tomorrow so we can make sure everyone’s safe. I think it would mean a lot to my family to reconnect and.. especially to me.”

Taylor looks at him, and for the first time in a while, she honestly smiles. There’s no hesitation, no hiding, no underlying thought - she wanted exactly that. Even last year, she wanted nothing more than for them to be fine again, especially with his family. Eleanor’s family. And therefore, her family.

“I want to reconnect too.” She then adds, sees in Joe’s face how relieved he seems to be. He smirks the same smirk she knows too well, his blue eyes shining, shyly looks down to hide the fact that he’s indeed smiling widely. She feels a bit drunk, looking at his smile, at his shy way of sitting there again. The way he always did.

“And I.. I’m sorry, Joe.” her mouth suddenly moves. He looks up at her. “I’m sorry for.. for sleeping with you and then disappearing.” she says, can see in his face that he didn’t expect her to go there. And neither did Taylor. She nervously changes her seating position on the couch, moves her leg up under her bum, pulls the sleeves of her onesie over her knuckles, while looking into his face.

“It was wrong, I played with fire.. I think we both played with fire. But it wasn’t right of me to just disappear. I know I kept saying, I want you to change, I want you to be more grown up, more responsible, but… right now, it seems like you’re more responsible and more grown up than me.” she says softly, shrugs with her shoulders and looks into his face with every ounce of honesty. Joe doesn’t move, he nods. He’s thankful. He’s never been more thankful for anything she’s ever said to him.

“I have changed this last year, yeah.” he then adds. She looks at him, the flicker of the tv in the darkness reflecting onto his face. It’s only 8pm, yet it’s fully dark outside. A classy, depressing English winter evening. But Taylor doesn’t feel depressed anymore. Taylor sits here, and feels how warm and tingly everything in her is getting. The kind of warmth you would expect when something finally happens that you’ve been praying for a long time. She knew he had changed. She knew it every Wednesday, and every Sunday when he stood in the door, picking up Eleanor to spend time with him. She knew every time the phone rang, and Eleanor would excitedly tell him about her day for at least half an hour. Every time Eleanor would come home, happily fall into her arms, telling her about her adventures with her dad.

“I know you have.” she quietly says, a smile on her face. Joe looks up again, the mood as warm and familiar as ever. He doesn’t say anything, simply reaches for her hand. And Taylor remains quiet too, just lets him hold hers. It’s been a year. It’s been ages. It’s been a lifetime of Taylor and Joe, yet it feels like only a second since he last did this. Simply hold her hand. Just sit there, being there.

Actually being there.

“I should.. I should get going.” he then says, lets go off her. She just nods, gets up together with him. She can feel that he’s been overwhelmed. And so was she. Joe slowly walks into the hallway, and Taylor tuns on the little light, right on the side board.

“So, you.. you can get tested too if you want. Dinner’s at 6 o’clock. My mum told me to ask if you want to stay over…”

Taylor leans in the door frame, watches him put his winter boots back on. She smiles. Nothing compares to the warmth she feels at the thought of Elizabeth wanting her there. Her second mother. That’s how close they used to be years ago.

“That’s incredibly sweet but, I think I will just go home after dinner. Eleanor can sleep with you. I can come back in the morning for presents.”

Joe nods, accepts her decision fully.

“Should I.. should I bring something for dinner? I can make dessert, or..”

“No, just bring some Eleanor.” Joe jokes, Taylor laugh quietly. He can see in her eyes, what a massive relief there is. She seems so light, lighter than he’s witnessed her in years. Nothing ever made her more beautiful to him, than her most honest smile.

“Okay, will do that.”

Joe gets up, opens the big door himself.

“Alright then.” She says. Joe smiles one more time. He laughs. And so does Taylor. Things certainly are a bit awkward still.

“Come here.” he then casually mumbles and pulls her into a tight hug. Taylor doesn’t say anything, lets him hug her tight. She closes her eyes, both her hands hugging him back. She doesn’t want this hug to end. It feels better than last year. It feels more real. honest. raw. They’ve come quite a long way.

“Thank you so much.” she mumbles once more, and Joe ends the hug, smiling at her once more.

“You too.” He whispers, then slowly lets go off her and leaves the house. Taylor just stands in the doorway and watches him walk off. She waves one last time, only until he’s left the road her house is on and then closes the door.

She looks into the big mirror one last time, fixes her messed up bangs and makes sure her long sleeve cotton dress covers everything it needs to cover. The past two days have been interesting. She’s been telling her friends about this afternoon with Joe. About their holding hands, their hug, his invitation for her to join their family Christmas again. Taylor couldn’t be more thankful yet she knows that she needs to take it slow. That if they’re really onto something real and good, then this time, they need to take it extra slow.

Taylor turns around again, then perfects her red lipstick. Even though she wants ‘extra slow’, she can still look fabulous tonight.

“Honey? We need to leave.” Taylor yells upstairs, hears Eleanor answering her from the bathroom. Taylor quickly puts on her black coat, grabs her tiny handbag and walks upstairs. Just when she enters her daughter’s room is when she has to laugh. There’s tiny bits of paper everywhere, it seems that Eleanor’s self made presents have certainly taken up a lot of paper and created quite a mess in this room. But Taylor can’t be strict today. She knows how excited Eleanor is for today. And so is she.

“Ready?” Taylor asks, looks at her baby girl collecting her favorite toys for her tiny backpack that she wants to bring for her sleepover at grandma’s house.

“Yes, mommy. Look, all my presents are in here.” she says, shows her mum the little paper bag she has designed herself with all the kitten stickers on top of it. Taylor laughs, bends down to kiss Eleanor’s hair.

“Come on, put your shoes and jacket on. Brandon is outside waiting for us.” she says and Eleanor storms downstairs. A few minutes later, Taylor fixes the mask on her face before getting into the big black car where Brandon is sitting. Right next to Eleanor, Taylor feels her stomach churning. She feels as nervous as back then when she would meet his family for the first time. In a way, it feels exactly like that. It’s meeting them again since a very long time. A very long time with absolutely no contact. Filled with fears and guilt and anger.

But not tonight.

After less than fifteen minutes, the big black car stops right in front of the little brick stone house right at Budwick’s Lane. Eleanor gets out of the car, her little backpack on, as happy as ever. Taylor closes the car’s door, carries the pink bag with Eleanor’s toiletries and clothes, waving Brandon goodbye.

While Eleanor is already running up to the doors entry, Taylor feels how nauseous she suddenly gets. Standing there for a minute, she just takes a good look at the old brick stone a house, covered in ivy. The light shining out from the little hatch, right above the guest bathroom window. This house was once her first home away from home, in this country. So many memories that she feels all at once. Good and bad ones. Taylor suddenly wonders, if this was really Elizabeth’s idea? After all, she will never be able to forget Elizabeth’s angry stare a year ago at Eleanor’s theatre performance at pre- school.

Without Taylor being able to take a last deep breath, the old door opens and Richard stands there, Eleanor immediately jumping onto his arms. He hasn’t changed. He’s still Joe’s dad.

“Grandpa!” Eleanor yells, seems just as happy as Richard to see her.

“My little monkey.” he smiles, kisses the five year old on her head. Taylor just stands there, swallowing once.

“Merry Christmas.” she just says, slowly follows her daughter who’s been running off into the living room already. Richard just stands there and smiles, then does something she never expected. Within a few seconds, he just signals her to come in and pulls her into a warm hug. Just like he did back then.

“Merry Christmas, Taylor.” he says, then slowly let’s go. “You look fantastic, have you been well this year?” Taylor is certainly a bit overwhelmed by the hug, nods immediately as Richard helps her take off her jacket.

“I’m great! How are you?” she asks, just looks around and feels the greatest sensation of ‘home’ she could ever imagine. The old fireplace in the living room is lit, she can see that from the hallway. Laughter and Joe’s voice is coming from kitchen. The smell of Elizabeth’s Christmas pie. Nothing has changed.

“Oh thanks, we’re good as always. Come in, I think Elizabeth..” Taylor walks in, when just in that moment, Elizabeth stands right in front of her. This is the moment she’s been dreading the most.

“Merry Christmas!” Taylor just stutters, feels an immense amount of relief when Elizabeth smiles warmly. The sixty year old woman hasn’t changed the slightest. Her brown hair hanging down her shoulders. She quickly places the kitchen towel on the counter and walks towards Taylor.

“We’re very happy you two are joining us.” Elizabeth says, then hugs Taylor as well. But this time, the hug is slower. More honest. Taylor closes her eyes, feels how emotional she’s getting. This place, these arms, used to be family. No matter what is and no matter what has been, she couldn’t be more thankful for this peace offer from her side. As Taylor slowly let’s go, Elizabeth smiles at her warmly.

“I missed you.” she says quietly. Taylor nods immediately.

“I missed you too.”

Just when Taylor was about to say something else, Eleanor starts to pull on Taylor’s dress.

“Mummy, mummy look! Santa Claus already left me one present under the tree for tonight.” she yells excitedly. Taylor as well as everyone else in near proximity laughs quietly at the young girl’s excitement. Just when Taylor was about to crouch down to tell Eleanor how happy she is for her, is the moment when Joe suddenly stops in front of her, pulls Taylor into another hug.

But this one is making her knees go weaker than the ones before.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” he whispers, and Taylor closes her eyes. If only he knew how happy she is to be here.

After a few seconds, Joe slowly lets go and looks at her smiley face. Her cheeks are red and she seems flushed. He knew it would mean the world to her to finally leave behind the conflict she had with his family.

“I’m glad to be here too.” she smiles at him, as Joe slowly takes her hand and walks into the living room with her. Right next to the big Christmas tree that is lit up with dozens of little lights, Taylor can see Patrick and Tom stand there with Nicole and two other people. A bit confused, Taylor just lets him take her by the hand.

“I’m so happy that you get to finally meet Naomi.” he then says, comes to a full stop with Taylor right in front of the brunette woman. With long brown hair and the most stunning smile, Naomi gives Taylor the hand and smiles warmly.

“Taylor, so nice to finally meet you.” she says and Taylor feels like someone just ripped out her stomach and put it back in again. With shaky hands, Taylor forces herself to smile back at the woman, looks more than confused at Joe. He seems so nervous, carefully places his hand on Naomi’s back, his gentle eyes looking at the brunette girl, ensuring she’s doing fine. Taylor feels like fainting, uses all the power within her to remain standing. Right here, in this living room, where she was once the one meeting family. Right here, where she was once the one being looked after by his kind eyes. The living room in which their daughter celebrated almost every Christmas so far.

“Nice to meet you too.” Taylor then brings out, is more than proud of herself for having been able to say these few words.

Shocked but more than angry at herself, Taylor looks at Naomi and back at Joe. How stupid she was, to think that his peace offer was for more than them reconnecting. He wanted to them to be civil. He wanted to finally close the chapter Taylor.

How stupid she was.

Taylor immediately looks at Eleanor, who pulls once more on her dress. Taylor never thought she could be so happy to be interrupted by her daughter, but she is. She is thankful for every second, in which she doesn’t have to face Naomi or Joe or worse - them both together.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I was so nervous to meet you, so... wow I’m really embarrassing right now.” Naomi says to Taylor, who’s now looking up at her again. Taylor swallows, fakes her nicest smile. And she’s doing quite well so far. She’s doing well, up until she sees Joe’s soft laugh, and his hand that is right on her back again, stroking her up and down.

“Tay, hey.” a young man suddenly says, and Taylor turns around. She sees Patrick standing in front of her, who hugs her immediately. He’s taller than she remembered and it’s still hard for her to comprehend that he’s no longer the shy fourteen year old she once knew, but instead a twenty- two year old university graduate. For the first time tonight, she honestly feels happy to shake someone else’s hand. Someone she hasn’t met before.

“This is Jess, my girlfriend.”

Taylor smiles at the blonde girl and then at Patrick.

“So nice to meet you!” she quickly says, then looks at Patrick again.

“Joe said you two moved in together?” Taylor asks, and Patrick nods. Taylor smiles warmly. She’s more than happy for Patrick.

“I’m glad you’re here, Tay.” Patrick says, and as always, she can still feel the truth in his words. Ever since back then, when she and Joe picked him up from his field trip, and that one evening in her rental house when she and Patrick had pizza and spoke about his heart break - ever since then, Patrick and her had a great bond. It’s not just Joe, who she lost. She also lost Patrick, his parents, this home.

A life.

Taylor can feel Joe’s glance. She can feel how he constantly looks back at her, reassuring himself she’s doing fine after meeting Naomi. And Taylor immediately feels her acting skills come up. She wants him to think she’s fine. She wants him to think that she’s untouchable, healthy, happy. That she’s moved on like him. That she didn’t spend the last hours recalling every moment of Monday afternoon.

Not at all.

To Be Continued.

#Christmasbound #lovebound #part 3 #taylor swift #joe alwyn #joe and taylor #taylor swift fanfiction #fanfiction #london #christmas #love

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luisjuanmilton · 3 years

Note

Ahhh hi I'm awake and I've never sent like a prompt or ship thingy before so I hope this is what u mean !! For a ship maybe Dan and esteban and for a prompt maybe just esteban taking Dan to look at Christmas lights or something like that?

This prompt is perfect and I had been dying to write dansteban so thank you so much for requesting it <3

(I just realised you can’t put a read more on mobile sorry guys you’ll have to bear with this long post)

Daniel sighed to himself, absentmindedly scrolling through every single movie Netflix had to offer as he desperately tried to find something that would distract him from how painfully lonely he felt.

It was Christmas Eve, and while he would normally be either in Australia or Italy with his family by now, the fucking global pandemic had made it so that he was stuck in the flat Renault had rented for him to use whenever he was in Oxfordshire.

The flat was so underused that it barely had any furniture, and the lack of decorations coupled with the cold that could be felt even when he had the heater on wasn’t doing anything to improve his mood.

Daniel was used to spending his holidays in the sun damn it, he’d never asked for a white Christmas.

He had been surrounded by nothing but silence for so long that he almost thought he’d hallucinated the knocking that was coming from the direction of the door, but when it grew more insistence he nearly jumped off the couch, hurrying to see who could have possibly come to visit him.

And his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he found none other than his lanky teammate standing on the other side of the wooden door with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Esteban?” he asked, half convinced that he was definitely hallucinating.

“Yes, hi” the Frenchman answered, a tiny hesitant smile pulling at his lips “for a second there I thought you weren’t in”

“Yeah sorry I thought I’d heard wrong, but, uh, what exactly are you doing here?” Daniel’s eyes widened when he realised how rude that sounded, and he quickly rushed to correct himself “Not that I don’t want you here or anything, you actually have no idea how nice it is to see you”

Thankfully, Esteban only looked amused by his rambling, the smile on his face growing larger.

“Well I sort of realised we were both stuck here, and since I don’t particularly fancy being alone tonight I thought you might not either”

And really, Daniel was so embarrassingly touched by that that he could have cried.

“Oh. Yes, no, absolutely. You can totally come in but I have to warn you that I only have, like, frozen pizza and a couple of beers on the fridge so -“

“Actually, I thought I could take you somewhere” Esteban interrupted, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth “if you don’t mind braving the cold that is”

Daniel beamed at the Frenchman, his innate love for surprises making a flare of excitement rush through him, especially after he had been sure the most exciting thing that would happen to him that night would be watching the new season of Love Island.

“Let me get my coat”

Just to be safe he decided to put on the biggest and fluffiest coat he owned, paired with a knitted beanie and a matching scarf, not even caring that he probably looked ridiculous next to Esteban, who didn’t even look like he had noticed it was snowing.

There wasn’t anyone around to judge him anyways, and he knew Este would never mock him.

Indeed, the younger man looked almost fond as he took in his very over the top attire, holding the door open for him and shutting it behind them.

He was nearly skipping as he followed Este down the stairs, not even questioning it when they walked past both their cars to instead follow the trail that lead to a small park that he’d never bothered to visit before.

Esteban stopped him when the park was just around the corner, turning to face him with a serious look in his eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

Daniel found himself nodding before he’d even finished the question, and when his entire face immediately softened at that, he felt warmth flooding his chest that had nothing to do with the layers of clothing he was wearing.

“Of course I do”

“Close your eyes for me” Este softly commanded, holding a hand out to him that he didn’t hesitate to take before complying.

It was a little tricky to walk over the rocky and snowy path without being able to see, but the firm hold Esteban had on his hand was enough to assure him he’d never let him fall on his ass.

They must have walked for less than three minutes when they came to a sudden halt, but even then Este didn’t let go of his hand.

“Okay… you can open them now”

Daniel immediately did as he was told, and a delighted gasp left his mouth as he took in the sight in front of him.

The entire park was light up by what seemed to be hundreds of Christmas lights that were hanging from the snowy trees, making it look like it’d been taken straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Thanks to the way they swayed with the breeze it almost seemed like they were twinkling stars, and Daniel felt like he’d walked into some sort of winter wonderland.

“Holy shit” he breathed out, hearing Esteban chuckle beside him at the expletive.

“Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? I love it! It looks like a fucking postcard”

Este let out a full bellied laugh at that, but it was obvious to Dan that he was very relieved by his reaction.

“I’m glad. It’s just that I remembered you saying how much you liked Christmas, and I didn’t want you to have a crappy one this year, I think it’s been shitty enough. I also brought a big blanket, some pastries and a thermos full of coffee, it’s not exactly a Sunday roast but I think it’ll do” he confessed, the apples of his cheeks as red as the tip of his nose for reasons that the Aussie was sure were completely unrelated to the cold.

If Daniel had felt touched before, he was sure he was about to spontaneously combust because of how endeared he was by the man standing next to him.

“You really are something special Esteban”

“Oh it was nothing”

Esteban’s entire face was as red as the Ferrari livery by now, and his pleased grin made him look all the more adorable.

It was only then that Daniel realised neither had let go of the other’s hand.

“Hey Este? I know I couldn’t leave here because of the travel restrictions in Italy, but I thought they had lifted the travel ban in France… why didn’t you go home?”

The sheepish look he got after that was more than enough answer for him, but he still wanted to hear him say it.

“I, uh, I sort of overheard you talking to Cyril about how you’d have to spend the holidays here. I’m sorry for eavesdropping but I promise I didn’t mean to, and I just really didn’t want you to have to spend them alone because I know how much you miss your family and -“

Now it was Daniel’s turn to interrupt Esteban’s rambling, and he couldn’t think of a better way to do it than by fisting his hand on the front of his sweater and pulling him down into a kiss.

The tiny surprised yelp that left him was muffled by Daniel’s lips, and when the younger man’s brain registered what was happening he all but melted into the kiss.

And the Aussie had no idea how long he’d been wanting to do that without realising it, but as their lips moved together he quickly found out he never wanted it to stop.

Unfortunately, their need for oxygen was still a thing, but they only separated enough so that they could breathe while still keeping their foreheads pressed together, not caring at all that the angle was far from comfortable because of their height difference.

“Thank you” Dan murmured, tightening the grip he still had on the other’s hand and feeling an electric current run through their linked fingers.

“Merry Christmas Dan” he answered, with a smile bright enough that it put all the lights that surrounded them to shame.

“Merry Christmas Este”

With that, Daniel pressed their lips back together, thinking to himself that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending his holidays in the snow as long as he had Esteban close to keep him warm.

#the new installment of ‘ana cannot write drabbles to save her life’#I just have a lot to say okay #and I’ll do the rest tomorrow guys promise! thanks for sending some!#long post #dansteban #daniel ricciardo #esteban ocon #drabble #my writing

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lancermylove · 4 years

Text

Too Late (Oneshot)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x fem!Reader

Warning: MAJOR angst, reader’s death, mention of blood

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can i get a oneshot of victor

Word Count: 2,158

A/N: The reader is looking back on past event and reflecting, so flashbacks (italicized text) are in narrator’s POV, while the present (reg text) is in the reader’s POV.

———————————————

Since childhood, I have always stood by his side and took care of him. Whenever people saw the two of us interacting, they immediately assumed we were a couple. Even the employees at LFG gossiped about us, saying that I was Victor's lady but he wanted to keep our relationship a secret.

Without knocking on the door, you walked into Victor's office, holding a collection of shopping bags. "Hi, Victor. Let me guess you forgot to eat lunch?"

The CEO shifted his attention from the computer screen to you and examined the bags. "Someone had a lot of free time today. Did you purchase the entire mall?"

"Wait, can I buy the whole mall?" You playfully asked while carefully setting the paper bags on the couch.

"If you plan to, warn me ahead of time," the CEO chuckled, removing his reading glasses and setting them on a stack of unsigned papers. He sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why do you take so much stress?" You walked behind his chair, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, and pressed your lips on the side of his head. The subtle scent of his shampoo tickled your nose. "I know you're the CEO, but Vic, you need to rest once in a while."

"I'm fine, (Y/N)," Victor delicately touched one of your arms and whispered, "you worry too much."

"If I won't worry, then who will?" You giggled, resting your forehead against the side of his head. "Now, let's eat! I'm starving."

“You have not had lunch yet?” The raven-haired man inquired in a concerned voice, raising an eyebrow.

“How could I eat lunch knowing you haven’t eaten yet?”

Victor was aware of my feelings for him; he had known for years that I loved him, so why were his eyes only for her? She had done nothing for him and only caused him trouble, so why? No matter how much time I spent with him, his mind was preoccupied with her. Even on my special day, he was with her.

You waited on the sofa wearing his favorite black, backless dress with a pearl shoulder necklace. Every few seconds, your eyes shifted between the main door and your cellphone. You told yourself that he will walk in or call you any minute. You made excuses to appease your restless mind.

"There must be a lot of traffic, or maybe, he is stuck in a meeting. What if he is planning a big surprise for me?"

Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, but there was no sign of Victor. You spent your entire birthday waiting for him, but he never showed up.

The sound of a loud knock forced your heavy, bloodshot eyes to open. Even after the events of the previous day, only one name escaped your lips, "Victor?"

You rose from the sofa and hurried to the door in hopes of seeing your love; instead, you found a shimmer blue present sitting on your doorstep with a purple envelope on top. Picking up the box, you closed the door and dragged your heavy body back to the living room. As soon as you bent down to set the present on the center table, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. Your cheeks were stained by your dark mascara and eyeliner, your red lipstick smudged past your lips, and your hair was disheveled.

"What a mess..." you mumbled under your breath and averted your eyes.

You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out an elegant ivory-colored birthday card. He apologized to you multiple times, but your eyes repeatedly darted back to one sentence: I had to attend to an urgent matter.

"Urgent matter...right," you snickered and hung your head, feeling a strong burning sensation in your eyes once again.

He apologized many times, and I didn't want to forgive him, but my heart refused to cooperate. Did he forget the promise he made to me when we were kids?

“I promise to always spend your birthday with you, no matter what! I will always find a way to come see you on your birthday.”

I remember how happy I was hearing those words on a clear, sunny day in our favorite park. The words that I held close to my heart seemed like nothing but an empty promise from him. I didn't want to forgive him, but in the matter of the mind and heart, the heart somehow always emerges as the victor.

Then came the day where she broke his heart and went to another man. Despite everything, I opened my arms for him and stood firmly by his side. I even stayed with him in his home to make sure he didn't take stress or overwork himself more than usual. As if blessing me for my good deeds, Victor slowly started to open up to me.

"Why are you still awake? It's 4 am, and you have a meeting at 8 am." You groggily stepped into Victor's bedroom, rubbing your sleep-filled eyes.

"I am almost done with this report. Why are you awake?" He asked with his eyes still on the stack of papers in his hand.

"A nightmare woke me up...so I thought to check on you."

Victor momentarily glanced at you before setting the report down on the nightstand. He stretched out a hand towards you and gently whispered, "Come here."

Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and took a hold of his warm, large hand. Victor helped you onto his bed and pulled a gray cotton blanket over your body.

"Sleep here for tonight."

He turned off the light and settled down on the mattress, facing you. Victor ran his long fingers through your hair in an attempt to help you fall asleep. In all the years you knew him, never once had Victor touched you in such a tender manner.

At that moment, I started to think everything was working in my favor, and life was finally smiling at me. But who was I kidding? Once again, she came back and ruined my life.

"I am sorry, Victor," she hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I shouldn't have left you. Please, forgive me."

You stood a few feet away watching her cry as Victor comforted her. Then she said the words you prayed she wouldn't. "Please, give me a second chance."

Victor hesitated for a while but eventually gave a small nod, "Fine. Will you stop crying now, dummy?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as you felt your heart shatter to pieces. Blinking rapidly, you tried to fight back the tears clouding your eyes in vain. You covered your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping and backed away, step-by-step, your eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Victor snapped his head towards you when he heard your footsteps retreating in a hurry. He stared with wide eyes for a second before squeezing his eyes shut. The corners of his lips tugged down as his head lowered.

I loved him to no end, but why couldn't he see it? Why did he always favor her over me? Was I truly that...worthless? To add to this pain, my family started to pressurize me into marriage, but I refused. I told them my heart only belong to one man, but they didn't listen. Unfortunately, I only had one person to turn to for comfort, so I ran to into his arms and cried my heart.

"I don't want to marry a random man," you cried in his chest, "but they won't stop pressurizing me. What do I do?"

Victor's muscles stiffened at hearing the word 'marriage'. He silently exhaled, placing one hand on the back of your head while wrapping the other around your waist.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. His silence made your world crumble, and the little hope you had left diminished.

Why didn’t he say anything? Did my pain not affect him, or did he not care? They kept pushing me even more after that, and ultimately gave me a final warning, marry Victor or marry the man they chose for me. My family's only goal was to help their sinking business by finding a rich husband for me. I went to him yet again and broke down completely.

You kneeled in the middle of his office and hung your head low, letting tears drop onto the black tiles beneath you. The coolness in the tiles seeped into your otherwise burning body. "Why are they trying to ruin my life?"

Victor kneeled in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your upper back.

"Victor, please do something," you bawled in desperation, knowing that he had the power to change the outcome. He averted his eyes from your crying form and stared at the fireplace, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

You lent me a shoulder to cry on, but why didn't you say anything? That day I left your office empty-handed and angry - not angry at him, but myself for thinking he would help me.

Then came the day of my forced marriage to a man who I hadn't even seen. From the new reports, I knew Victor was in a different country for a global conference, but I still didn't lose hope. Why was I so foolish? Why did I think he would walk in at any moment and rescue me like a fairytale prince on a white stallion? I waited and waited, but he never came. I should have expected this, but I was such a fool.

Days and months passed but Victor never contacted me, not even to ask if I was okay. Would I have told him the truth if he called to ask? Would I have told him that my husband doesn't care about the marriage or me? That my marriage was completely meaningless. That my dear husband hadn't even kissed me once, let alone touch me. That I was glad he wasn’t interested me because I only dreamed of kissing only one man. That I hate everything, everyone, and was reaching my limit.

I stared at the pearl-like raindrops rolling down the bedroom window and forced a chuckle. It was comforting to know that at least nature cared about me. Was nature crying for me? I tilted my head to look at the cellphone beside me and stared at the black screen. What was I hoping for? He didn't care back then, he still doesn't care, and he won't care tomorrow. Not a single person in my life cares, which I guess is good, considering that no one will be sad. My husband will find some other woman, my family has their prospering business, and Victor has her.

"Well, l-looks like it's almost time." I turned my head to look at the rain one last time as my vision began to blur. Within seconds, my head began to spin. Probably from the blood draining out of the cuts on my wrist.

"G-Goodbye, V-Victor...I hope you're always happy."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt like laughing at myself for still being a fool. Even in my final moments, I couldn't stop thinking of him.

------

The raindrops continuously fell from the sky, each drop hitting the ground with a loud thud. Goldman followed Victor from a safe distance, curious to find out where the CEO was headed. The secretary nearly lost his footing when he saw his boss walk into a cemetery. He hid behind a tree close to the grave and quietly watched his employer.

Victor crouched down in front of a black granite stone slab and gently placed a bouquet of white camellias on it.

"Hey," he whispered in an exhausted voice as he brushed his fingertips on the rain-drenched stone slab. Goldman watched as Victor lowered his head and rested the flat of his right palm on the grave.

"Forgive me for not visiting for a few days...I was out of the country." Victor blinked his eyes rapidly and forced the corners of his lips up. "I...ate lunch already and..."

Goldman's eyes widened when he heard his boss sniffle. He leaned a little closer to make sure his imagination was not getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), h-happy birt-" Victor choked on his words and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few moments to gather himself before standing up and trudging towards the exit.

The secretary studied his boss's slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps in confusion. As soon as Victor disappeared out of sight, Goldman carefully walked to the black granite slab and followed the bouquet up to the tombstone.

"Let's see...," he adjusted his glasses and read the words inscribed on the gravestone, "To all those reading this, tell the person you love your feelings before it's too late and all that's left is regret."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#mr love victor #mlqc #mlqc victor #victor x reader

74 notes · View notes

thehermitcraftqueen · 3 years

Text

Nobody - Angst, Scott x Jimmy

Another angst songfic, and despite the angst, I really enjoyed writing this one. This one is the hobbit husbands, for @/jubilee__line_ on Twitter.

The song is 'Nobody' by Mitski.

My God, I'm so lonely

So I open the window

To hear sounds of people

Arrows were flying from both sides as the battle raged. One particular Red Army member drew his bow and let an arrow fly. It sped through the air and into the bunker, hitting Jimmy. He collapsed, vanishing as the death message appeared. The fight continued, but Scott could feel himself breaking.

That scene kept repeating itself in Scott's head ever since the event. It haunted him, sending him into a mindset of grief, regret, and hate. Scott constantly asked himself if there was some way he could've changed the outcome, put his yellow life before Jimmy's red somehow, but he didn't know. Either way, he felt guilty, as if it was his fault. Every moment he spent at the base he used to share with Jimmy hurt, but at the same time, he couldn't bear to be away from it. It was all he had left of Jimmy, and he'd miss it too much if he tried to leave.

And Jimmy he missed with every breath. His soft brown eyes always sparkling with excitement or mischief. His wide smile, usually accompanied by the laugh that Scott adored. His touch, that on its own could make Scott feel reassured. His lips and the world of new feelings when they kissed. Even his eye for trouble. Scott missed everything.

Maybe it was just him being too hopeful, or even being lonely, but at times Scott could almost feel Jimmy's presence. He couldn't see him, but it was like he could feel his touch again, sense Jimmy standing next to him, even catch what he thought was an almost inaudible whisper. But he was never sure, and he didn't want to give himself false hope.

Scott sighed, turning his tear-stained face to the window. It was a nice day, but he hadn't been outside in a while. Maybe some fresh air would do him some good. He pushed open the window and leaned against it as cool air rushed inside. It felt good, but it didn't cure the deep feelings of grief and loneliness.

Suddenly, Scott realized he could hear people shouting in the distance. He had a sneaking suspicion as to what was going on, but he headed outside to investigate anyway.

Venus, planet of love

Was destroyed by global warming

Did its people want too much too?

Did its people want too much?

Scott climbed up the hill over his house and gazed over at the Crastle. A battle between Team Crastle and the Red Army seemed to be going on. The Red Army had the castle surrounded, while arrows rained down on them from the people in the castle above.

What was the point of all this? To kill each other? Scott didn't even know how he thought the idea sounded fun at first, but now he hated it. He lost Jimmy because of this war. Part of him knew that he'd see his love again, but at the same time, a deeper part of him couldn't help but worry how true that was. Death wasn't something to be taken lightly. What if Grian had messed something up with the server, and those dead would be dead forever?

Scott didn't want to win anymore. He didn't know why anyone else would either. If this was what he'd have to go through, it was too much.

And I don't want your pity

I just want somebody near me

Guess I'm a coward

I just want to feel alright

Even so, Scott couldn't help but feel slightly guilty as he watched his allies fighting. He should be over there, helping them. But he didn't want to fight anymore, not if Jimmy wasn't next to him. He wanted to go back in time, back to when everything was peaceful and Jimmy was alive. Back when he felt alright.

Scott clenched and unclenched his fists as he watched the battle. The Crastle people kept taking hits from the Red Army below, and even from afar it was clear they were getting worried. Guilt and anger made Scott's blood boil, and when a death message flashed that was the last straw.

"I'll see you soon, Jimmy," Scott whispered, before pulling out his bow and charging down the hill.

And I know no one will save me

I just need someone to kiss

Give me one good honest kiss

And I'll be alright

Scott began sniping the Red Army members, focusing on Ren. At first, the so-called king didn't turn, but after a moment he seemed to realize he was being shot at from a different side and whipped around. Scott's heart leaped into his throat as Ren began sprinting over to him, but he pulled out his sword and faced his enemy bravely.

Their swords clashed. Scott struggled to hold on, but his skills lied in a bow more than a sword. In little time, Ren had overpowered him. Scott tried to run, but he wasn't fast enough.

Pain flooded through his body as Ren hit him repeatedly. Rapidly, his hearts drained to nothing, and his death message flashed as his world went black.

He opened his eyes to find himself in the air above where he'd died. It was like he was viewing it through a red filter, and the 'respawn' button floated in front of him. He went to hit it, but something stopped him. Without even thinking why he turned around to see Jimmy standing behind him. He was partly transparent, but it was Jimmy.

"Jimmy..." Scott whispered.

Jimmy smiled softly and offered his hands. Hesitantly, Scott placed his hands in Jimmy's. Jimmy's hands phased through his, but Scott could feel them as if their hands were really touching. His eyes pricked with tears, and he glanced back up to look into Jimmy's eyes. They were sad, but he had a reassuring smile.

"The war's not over yet, Scott. But we'll see each other soon, I promise..." Jimmy whispered.

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but he blinked and Jimmy was gone. He bit his lip, struggling to hold back tears as he pressed the 'respawn' button.

Nobody, nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody

Ooh, nobody, nobody, nobody

It took Scott several minutes to collect himself after he respawned. When his tears had ceased enough for him to think, he made his way back to the Crastle. The battle had ended. The Red Army was gone, and Team Crastle was outside, picking up the items of those who had died. Impulse was now red, Scott noticed, but miraculously the other reds, Tango, Bdubs, and Scar, had managed to survive.

“Oh, Scott, you’re back,” Bdubs said. “Your stuff is in a chest over there,” he added, pointing to a chest near the spot Ren had killed him.

“Thanks,” Scott replied, heading over there and opening the chest. He collected his gear then turned back to his allies. “Well, I’ll be heading back home now...”

“Actually, we were wondering if you’d like to stay with us in the Crastle?” Tango asked. “Y’know, so that you don’t have to run here next time Ren attacks, and you might be safer.”

Scott paused and thought about that for a moment. It would be a good idea, but he didn’t want to leave his base. He felt closest to Jimmy there, and he would rather be there than the Crastle, despite all the memories and pain.

“It’s a nice offer, but I think I’m going to stay at my base,” Scott said.

“Memories?” Scar asked, surprisingly softly.

“Um—yeah,” Scott nodded.

“That’s understandable. Just be careful,” Scar said.

Scott nodded, deciding not to question Scar’s gentleness. It was Scar after all, and he was a mystery to anyone. “I will.”

Casting one last glance at the others, Scott turned and began walking back home.

I've been big and small

And big and small

And big and small again

And still nobody wants me

Still nobody wants me

A few days passed with no fighting. Scott stayed in his hobbit hole mostly, occasionally going outside to get some fresh air, but he didn't see anyone. He did, however, feel Jimmy's presence more and more as time went on. Scott wasn't sure how he felt about this. Being able to feel that Jimmy was there but never see him caused almost more pain than when he'd lost him, but at the same time, Scott preferred that over losing Jimmy completely.

Scott remembered what Jimmy had said about them being together soon and wondered if that meant his time was coming. He knew the final battle was close; would he die then? Honestly, he didn’t mind if he did. He’d go down fighting, an honorable death, and any end to his constant grief and pain would be a welcome one.

Finally, the time came. Impulse showed up at Scott’s door, injured and breathing heavily as he informed Scott that the Red Army was attacking again.

And I know no one will save me

I'm just asking for a kiss

Give me one good movie kiss

And I'll be alright

The next events happened in a blur.

Scott returned to the Crastle with Impulse, raining arrows on the Red Army. He got several hits, maybe even a death or two. He didn't know. He didn't keep track. His mind was a mess the entire battle, and several times he thought he saw Jimmy's ghost fighting beside him.

Etho's sword came out of nowhere.

Scott gasped as the blade stabbed into his stomach and he stared into the wild, mismatched eyes of his attacker. Etho said nothing aloud, but Scott knew what he was thinking: This is revenge.

Scott understood that completely; he wanted it too.

Pain surged through Scott’s body as Etho stabbed him again. Scott raised his sword to fight back, and he did decent damage to Etho. However, his attacks weakened as his energy depleted. His life flashed before his eyes as Etho landed the final hit. Letting out his last, ragged breath, Scott closed his eyes and let himself fall into darkness.

Nobody, nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody

Ooh, nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody, nobody

He floated into the air a moment later as a ghost. A sigh escaped him as he stared down at his corpse. He lifted his head and turned as he felt a familiar presence.

"I've missed you."

A smile spread across Scott's face as he turned to embrace his husband.

Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody, no

27 notes · View notes

cutieodonoghue · 4 years

Photo

dark gray (14/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on tumblr!

a/n: We finally have made it to uncharted territory! This chapter and the rest that follow were all cooking in my brain for literal years, y'all. I'm very nervous to share, but so excited I can finally finish this off!

Thank you so much for all of your support as I've reposted this story. It's meant so much!

I hope this ending answers questions, wraps up all the plot points, and warms your soul.

///

Fourteen

One Week Later

One of the world’s most ancient Garfield mugs is warm against Emma’s palms. She sits curled up in the window seat of her childhood bedroom unable to sleep. Henry, on the other hand, still sleeps to her immediate right hand side.

She should be sound asleep like him. It should be easy now that she’s home again in the safety of her parent’s house, with a perfectly cushioned mattress and food to last her a lifetime.

But instead, her mind spins just fast enough to keep her heart racing, and all through the night, she finds herself running her fingers through the pages of one of Killian’s journals, reading and re-reading his private works until she thinks she could rehearse them on command.

Her cheeks are warm with the heat of the tears that seemed to so easily find her eyes. She shuts them, taking a deep breath through her nose.

They didn’t let her return to the island. They wouldn’t let her return to the island.

And worse, nobody, not even Mister Smee, has said a word about what happened to Killian or the island on the day of her return to civilization.

Emma’s parents didn’t want her going off on her own yet. Maybe it was out of fear- they’d lost her once and didn’t want to lose her again- or maybe it was to protect her and Henry from the cameras that seem to always be right outside.

She’d never even given a thought to the idea that she’d be a global news story. But, apparently “girl goes missing from a cruise ship and washes up on a mysterious island in the middle of the ocean” is a story people are hungry for.

A creak on the steps that lead up to her little loft bedroom signifies that someone’s coming to see her, so she steadies herself and pulls on a tiny smile. Turning, she finds her father, a tired look in his eyes and his hair gently tousled from sleep.

He steps into her bedroom quietly, without having to say anything, and sits opposite her on the window seat. He peers outside for a minute, so she allows her gaze to drift that way, too, comfortable in the solace of knowing he’s here.

His gentle, warm hand touches her calf and he squeezes it briefly. “I was thinking about taking a drive up the coast.” Emma looks at him and finds his eyes soft. “We can hide out at Uncle Leroy’s until the…” He shakes his head, grimacing, “circus goes away.”

They all hate it. Even their neighbors have complained. It isn’t fair that they’d decided to keep covering the story from their perch outside of their house. As if there was any story left to tell. All that was left was Emma struggling to return to normal life.

“They’ll just follow us.” Emma sighs.

She stares at her father, wondering if he can tell she feels like a shell of a person, or if her walls and facades were just high enough to hide behind. Of anyone, she knew he’d be able to read into her.

His gentle smile is almost sorrowful. “It’s nice to dream.”

When she’d told her parents that she met a man on an island, they’d initially been relieved. At least she hadn’t been alone and scrounging for food and habitat. She’d been fed, warm, and safe. At least, for the most part.

It had been more difficult to explain that Killian wasn’t just a man on an island. She’d expected confusion, maybe some sense of doubt or worry, but instead, they promised they wouldn’t stop looking for him.

Still, she wonders if they realize how much Killian means to her. That the guilt of leaving without him weighs heavy on her breastbone, or that she isn’t sleeping with millions of what-if scenarios haunting her instead of dreams.

Emma follows David’s gaze back out the window, where the sun has finally pushed beyond the horizon. She glances over her shoulder when she hears Henry’s telltale stirring, and gets up before he can cry.

She reaches into his newly purchased crib and smiles, settling him into her arms with a whisper, “Hi, Henry. Hi. Did you sleep well?”

The doctors tell her it’s a miracle that he’s still alive and healthy after not being fed properly for so long. But she isn’t surprised. He’s a fighter, just like her.

Emma goes to work right away, setting him on the changing table her parents had eagerly bought to resolve his smelly diaper. Once he’s changed, she grabs a bottle and looks at her father, tipping her head toward the stairs.

“Time for breakfast. You coming?”

He smiles at her thoughtfully and crosses the room, stopping short of her. “Neal’s here.”

Emma nods. “I know.”

He’d stayed the night. Again. She knows because she’d had a late night feeding and found him curled up on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, but suffering through just the same.

“He was worried about you, Emma,” her father explains for the millionth time, “I didn’t realize you were…”

“I know,” Emma says again. She takes a steadying breath, pulling on another smile for him. “It’s fine. He’s… been surprisingly nice.”

It’s true. He has been very nice. He’s eager to help with anything she needs. He’s always running errands on their behalf, making food for them, keeping nosy neighbors away from the front door… enforcing the justifiable hours that the media can stand guard past the sidewalk.

If she hadn’t already made up her mind about him, she might be persuaded to fall back in love.

Emma enters the kitchen to find her mother already making herself busy, multitasking with a phone in one hand and a spatula in the other.

She shakes her head, scowling at whoever is on the other end of the call. “You’re not helping when you call me with pointless updates like this.”

Her eyes brighten once they find Emma and Henry, and a big smile grows on her lips. She mouths, “Hi,” and gestures to the pancakes on the skillet in front of her.

Emma smiles and nods in approval of the pancakes in question, although she isn’t sure she could even try to eat. Her stomach still feels sick.

Neal sits at the kitchen island, a mug of his morning coffee lifted to his lips while he scrolls through an app on his phone. He looks up at her as she prepares Henry’s bottle.

“Oh, I can hold him while you do that.”

He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, already at her side with hands held outward before she can protest, so she allows him to take the baby. Henry seems to like Neal, at least as much as he can, so once he’s in Neal’s arms, she only hesitates for a few nervous seconds before continuing her task.

“How’d you sleep?” Neal wonders genuinely.

“Okay.” Emma lies. She meets his eyes. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

Neal frowns, shaking his head with his brow knitted. “No, no. It’s fine. Believe me.”

Her mother heaves a sigh as she sets the phone down on the counter. “Every morning it’s the same thing. I can’t believe it. How could there be no new information? It’s been a full week! Surely there’s something.”

The only piece of information they’d been told was that they had dispatched a crew to check the island, and after that, it almost felt like they were forgotten.

Emma bites her lip when she feels it tremble, focusing on what she’s doing so much that she worries someone might think she’s being too quiet.

“Maybe we should go ourselves. To the island.” Neal says. “If they can’t find anything, maybe… I don’t know, maybe Em can see something they’re not.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” her father says diplomatically. “Emma’s still recovering.”

Neal scoffs. “She’s not crippled, Dave.”

“She’s not mute, either.” Emma says, looking at the group.

They become quiet, her father looking especially guilty.

“I’m sorry, Emma. If something happened on the island. If...”

“If he’s dead, they would’ve said something.” Emma finishes his thought. She closes her eyes, breathing in. It’s a moment of clarity that she hadn’t realized she even had within her. “If we meant anything to him, he’ll find us. Let’s just… try normal life again. As much as we can.”

Her mother seems worried for a few seconds, but soon offers a smile and nods. “Anybody hungry for pancakes?”

Storybrooke’s harbor has always been her favorite place to eat lunch on quiet afternoons. Facing the water, watching the boats drifting off in the distance, as puffy white clouds moved slowly overhead, she could always find something calming here.

She sits on her favorite bench, Henry in his stroller at her side, and Neal sitting opposite.

They’d been quiet since deciding to leave the house, eager to do something other than sit idly while they waited out the media storm and the non-updates from oceans away.

Even though it’s freezing, it’s still nice to be outside.

It’s the first time they’ve really been alone, apart from her parents. Tension simmers between them, as if they’re supposed to talk about everything that went on. As if she needs to tell him about her change of heart with regards to their relationship.

But she really, really doesn’t want to.

Emma breathes in the salty air and allows herself to retreat back to the island in her mind, to the cozy nights in the living room with Killian reading to her. To the last morning they’d shared, so natural and good.

She’s in love with him. She thought he felt the same.

It didn’t make sense that he’d just disappear.

Beside her, Neal clears his throat softly. “Emma.”

It’s clear to her when she looks at him that he must be nervous, his fingers dancing on top of his knee for a few seconds before he folds his hands together in his lap.

“I was an asshole. Our entire relationship. Hell, my entire life I’ve been an asshole.” He scoffs, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a single sigh. “When your folks told me you were missing, I… totally lost it. No sleeping. No eating. Couldn’t focus on anything. So I flew over there, just to be with them while they waited for answers.”

She thinks she sees a tear in his eye. He sniffles, clearing his throat again. “We waited for almost three weeks.” He pauses, his upper row of teeth tugging at his lower lip. “I never saw them waver. I never saw them admit it was possible you were gone, even though that’s all anybody was saying around them.”

Emma knew it hadn’t been easy. She knew it had been a long time. But she can see in the pure sorrow on Neal’s face just how taxing it had been.

“Uh…” Neal takes another deep breath. “I guess I’m telling you all of this because losing you made me realize I knew how bad I was to you and I always just thought I’d get the chance to make up for it, you know? I thought I’d get the chance to be better for you. But, then...”

Neal shakes his head, clearly getting upset. A tear escapes his eye and he quickly wipes it away. “I thought you were dead.”

His voice is barely a whisper, spoken so quietly and with such passion that she knew nothing but the tight knot in her chest. She aches for him, and her parents, knowing that they’d been through so much. Knowing that they’d never stop looking for her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” Neal apologizes, honesty in the sorrowful knit of his brow. “I’m so sorry.”

Emma closes her eyes as she wraps her arms around him, holding him as close as she can on a bench. He begins to weep, his sobs wracking his body while he buries his face in her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“It’s okay.” Emma whispers. “It’s okay.”

When he finally pulls away, he’s far more broken than he had been before. He’s almost a new person. “I feel so stupid, crying like that.”

“No,” she insists, shaking her head.

“I know you moved on.” Neal tells her, glancing briefly at the water ahead of them. “And that’s okay. We were never meant to be together.” His admission feels like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. “I just needed you to know that I’m sorry.”

Feeling free, yet vulnerable, Emma studies him quietly. He distracts himself with the view in front of them, but she can tell he’s still emotional. His knee wobbles and bounces quicker with each passing second.

Gently, she rests her cheek on his shoulder, wrapping her fingers around his arm, and stares out at the water. “We can still be friends.”

Neal laughs softly, his breath a white cloud in the cold December air. His knee stops bouncing. For a while, he’s quiet.

“Okay.”

One Week Later

There’s a dull throbbing in his head when he wakes up. The first thing he hears is the pulse of a heart rate monitor, followed by nearby chatter.

And then he hears laughter, bubbly and infectious.

Emma. Henry.

Slowly, his eyes open and he squints as he adjusts to the bright light that pours in from a nearby set of windows. The sterile room is small, with only a single chair accompanying the bed he lies in.

In the chair, Smee sits, snoring with his cheek pressed to his shoulder. He’s wearing a jacket as his blanket, and it appears that the man hasn’t seen civilization in a while, based on the beard he’s sporting.

His eyes fall closed again, feeling far too heavy to keep open.

An adorable crinkle by a shining green eye. Strands of blonde caught between his fingers. A whisper of his name in his ear.

Emma. Henry.

Killian licks his lips and groans under his breath at the aches and pains stinging all over. He’s still drowsy, feeling heavy, as if he’s been drugged. Sitting up is a chore, but he does it anyway.

He hears her voice, a whisper- maybe a memory, “Storybrooke. It’s in Maine. Can’t miss it. Can’t find it, either.”

Emma. Henry. Storybrooke.

“Smee,” he says, voice thick and cracking with lack of use. He clears his throat and opens his eyes once again. “Smee.”

The man in the chair jostles awake, licking his lips and sitting upright with his eyes wide. “Jones. You’re awake.” Smee pulls himself to his feet, jacket discarded at his feet. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

Killian grimaces, rubbing at his forehead, where the headache has begun to throb intensely. “I feel bloody fantastic, mate.”

Smee hesitates, seeming to not know for sure what to say. “You took quite the beating. Um… four broken ribs and your shoulder was dislocated. You were concussed. I know it doesn’t sound all that bad, but you were…” The man frowns, pausing as he searches for the words. “You were broken.”

A dislocated bone. A crack. A scream louder than any other.

Emma. He needs to get to Emma.

Killian starts to pull at the sheets. “Where’s Emma?”

“You should lie down. Let a doctor come check on you before we worry about that.”

He shakes his head. “No, I promised I’d…” He feels dizzy, so he falls back heavily against the bed, causing the frame to shake. “Where are they?”

Smee smiles gently. He grabs something from a table beside the bed and shows it to him. A newspaper. Emma and Henry on the front page.

“She had to go home. It was bordering on unsafe staying, what with all of the paparazzi and media. I couldn’t even see her once she got off of my boat. I heard that her folks wanted to stay and wait, but… the baby, he needed a little extra help from doctors and… you were nowhere to be seen.”

Killian furrows his brow slightly. His mind feels like a fog of knowledge, some of it clearer than the rest. He can’t seem to remember what happened after Emma left. “Where was I?”

“You were only just found a few days ago.” Smee says, clearly holding something back. He lowers his voice, “Stuffed into a barrel.”

The memories come back in almost a painful revelation. He shuts his eyes. “Bloody hell.”

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a brilliant mind in you.” Smee says optimistically. “You’ll be fully compensated for everything. What you did out there… it was damned heroic, Jones. You’ve had your name cleared.”

“How do you know that?”

Smee shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “As soon as they found you, I didn’t leave your side.”

The man, who Killian had never seen as anything but his means for food and materials, suddenly felt more to him like a friend than he’d ever experienced before.

With a shy little blush, Smee adds, “You’ve had a lot of visitors.”

Killian looked to the newspaper again, finding the image of Emma holding Henry close to her chest. He desperately needs to get to her.

Smee must notice his attention is strained, because he reaches for the paper. “Why don’t you lie down? I can get a doctor to check on you.”

“I need to get to Emma.”

“You will.” Smee promises. “Just as soon as you’re well enough to leave the hospital.”

#cs ff #cs au #my writing #dark gray #captain swan #eeeeek i'm so nervous about this #ahhhhhh #also still debating the last couple of chapters lol #so bare with me on the uncertainty of the length

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strangesmallbard · 4 years

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part 2 of my ideal s13 episode concepts, assuming yaz is the sole companion:

(they’re getting Very Long, so i may go back and fill out the original concepts!)

13.6 - The Angels Take Los Angeles: the vibe is very stylized, kitschy hollywood meets the ominous high stakes of the weeping angels. ep begins with yaz tardis skyping ryan, saying thirteen has been weirdly distant again. thirteen overhears, decides that they need some FUN. they wind up in roughly 1998. montage w/ music of: selfie at the hollywood sign, buying souvenirs at the big farmer’s market, the star walk (and thirteen listing every celebrity she’s met,) and finally, the griffith observatory, where they see a planetarium show. thirteen laments that they came before the samuel oschin planetarium was built, yaz leans in & whispers that’s alright, i’ve got the real thing anyway.

the day winds down, yaz decides to broach the doctor’s Mardy Mood when suddenly, thirteen sees a sculpture that definitely wasn’t built by sculptors during the depression era. they discover the angels want something stored in the observatory—a power source. thirteen is caught in grief and manages to explain more about the ponds than just “the angels are very dangerous, trust me.” yaz devises the plan that traps the angels. with help from an interning grad student who knows the building, they save the day together.

back in the tardis, thirteen apologizes for being cagey. they have a good conversation about friendship, support, and boundaries. when yaz goes to sleep, thirteen nearly calls the shadow proclamation to turn in the power source, but hesitates. she takes out her mysterious device.

final shot: a familiar figure watches the parked tardis from a distance, wistful & contemplative. she taps the vortex manipulator on her wrist and vanishes.

13.7 - Ice Age........2! yaz and thirteen on an alien planet experiencing an extinction event. the tone is contemplative, not too heavy. bright blue tones. icy landscapes. yaz brings up the possibility of global warming, but thirteen isn’t sure that’s happening this time. it’s important to note: they’re wearing giant parkas & thirteen has a backpack in the shape of a smiley face.

they wind up on a science base run by humanoid aliens. one of the scientists, a stern older woman, is a famous guest star. she advises them to move on: the scientists have exhausted all options. they’re having an “end of the world party” before the last transport arrives to them to a spaceport colony. the scientists invite yaz & thirteen to join; both are incredulous that the team is just giving up.

yaz joins the party to get more info while thirteen snoops around the base. they play card games; something similar to DDR, play music, eat dehydrated food. she offers them a new pair of eyes, and they vehemently turn her down. she learns about how a red giant stole their first planet and how this one will become uninhabitable despite their efforts. she also learns about this team-turned-family; old and young, with diverse backgrounds. when they talk excitedly about their spaceport plans, yaz is taken aback.

meanwhile, thirteen is searching for answers. we can hear the party in the other room. she tests (eats) the soil, she tests the ice. she finds an anomaly and the shot cuts to the tardis; thirteen in front of her mysterious device, carefully siphoning from the power source the angels wanted in 13x6. she shows yaz her plan excitedly. the sun, yaz, it’s too far away. if we use this to nudge the planet’s coordinates just a bit to the left, that’ll buy them time.

yaz is thrilled at first, but then hesitates halfway through planning. do they have that time? i mean, how will that affect their timelines?

thirteen is teetering on the edge of timelord victorious; this time, however, there’s no explosions or loud background music. just muffled party chatter and thirteen, tense at the shoulders. she goes: she’s run through the diagnostics, of course she has! yaz couldn’t possibly understand, this will buy time and won’t impact the timeline significantly. this will work.

yaz looks right at thirteen, asks if this is about gallifrey, what happened when she left the fam. i was there, doctor. i saw it burning. thirteen is still tense, her hands are fidgeting. it’s not the same, yaz. when we can help, we do.

yaz paces. she looks out the window. shot cuts outside to the still, icy cold planet. it’s silent. back inside: yaz sits next to her. i know it’s not, but. i’ve saved earth plenty with you. and i know these kinds of endings. i used to...not care if my own world ended before.

thirteen is startled out of timelord victorious mode. she’s awkward again, but her hands are still. her eyes are deep-set, serious. there’s no universe without yaz. she squeezes her hand and softly says i didn’t know. i’m sorry.

yaz squeezes her hand back, accepting her apology. they talk about her past a bit; the urge to keep moving forward despite overwhelming emptiness. it’s hard to celebrate something like that, she thinks aloud. maybe this is what they need to move on. maybe this is why we’re here this time, so someone else remembers.

in thirteen’s responding stare: this isn’t gallifrey. this isn’t the timeless child, sacrificed to build the timelords. quieter than usual but definitive, almost stern, thirteen says this time, everybody lives. she powers down the lab, pockets the power source, and lets yaz lead her back into the party.

montage of the party: raucous & weighty, a wake. thirteen is subdued at first, until someone challenges her to DDR. yaz challenges her next. they listen to stories about the planet, about their families. someone challenges thirteen to shots until they realize alcohol doesn’t really affect her. montage winds down into thirteen by the open sun roof, talking to guest star about the sun anomaly.

guest star laughs, not unhappy at all. of course we found it! can’t do too much about bloody gravity, can we, traveler?

lasts shot of the party scene: thirteen watching yaz—curious, a bit affectionate, now that the lights are dim and no one can bear witness—before turning her head up to the stars. we see a flash of timelord victorious before her expression becomes oddly serene. that’s us. a couple of travelers.

as the scene ends, the camera pans out; beautiful shot of the tardis on a sheet of ice, underneath double moons.

the next morning; yaz rushes into the tardis with an idea. the transport vehicle arrives for the team; yaz exchanges goodbyes. the doctor bounces around the console, finishing the idea: a digital time capsule that will survive nearly anything the universe throws at it. they give it to the Stern Lady Guest Star, who is bemused; she asks where they’ll bury it. yaz suggests they carry it with them.

second-to-last shot: thirteen and yaz helping the transport leave. buttons to push, etc. they wave. they watch the transport leave the atmosphere; low, but hopeful music playing. huddled together in their parkas, thirteen takes a deep breath. after a few seconds, yaz gestures with her head to leave.

last shot: wide view of the landscape, music still playing; we see two figures following their own footsteps back home to the tardis.

we hear slightly muffled voices: think i could go for some good weather, how about space florida?

you know, i’m sort of feeling sheffield, 2021. tea at mine? dad isn’t cooking, i promise.

oi, i like your dad’s cooking. it...

fade-out.

13.8 - “Yasmin” - found footage style, we follow yaz making video diaries ostensibly for her sister to watch later. the tone starts out light: first shot is her bedroom, and we follow her all the way to the games’ room. she points to a wii remote. i beat her at mario kart yesterday, don’t let her say otherwise. (today it’s Yaz’ TARDIS.)

she enters the console room where thirteen is tinkering, goggles on and a bit greasy. there’s banter. for a moment we see thirteen as yaz sees her: hair askew, bright smile, glowing in the light of the tardis, engine grease on her cheekbone. there’s a “you’ve got something on your nose” moment.

then, of course, someone in need of help pings the tardis. well, the doctor. she gets a text that says “help us, doctor,” which is all sorts of curious. yaz flips the camera to herself and says: “alright sonya, you ready for this?” while the doctor gives a cocky grin to the camera. the tardis leaves the time vortex with a great jolt, the opening credits run.

they land in front of a rickety farm house. the gate swings, ominously. a cow moos. the camera takes the scene in; thirteen pops up to give trivia about the era, which is.....earth, approximately 2014. britain.

yaz makes a face at the camera before they open the door.

the house seems regular, aside from abandoned; there’s a plate of molding food on the table. an outfit laid out on a bed, covered in cobwebs. scans turn up a “particle curiosity” in the air, but no one who could have sent a text message.

they decide to spend the night in the house, just in case. thirteen puts up sensors. they sit next to each other on the couch; yaz sets the camera on the table and there’s some planning before the camera abruptly goes dead.

we pick up later into the night—yaz is asleep. thirteen pulls a blanket over yaz; the footage starts skipping strangely, lines and shadows and distortions. she offers apologies to sonya; the censor picked up something and she’s modified the camera.

just as thirteen starts to awkwardly smalltalk about dimensional fragmentation camera censors, there’s a piercing shriek, more distortions. yaz wakes up; there’s scrambling and then: a face, screaming, glowing blue eyes.

the genre abruptly careens into found footage-style horror. yaz gets the figure to chase her around the house, nearly taunts it, until thirteen can hold it off with a Barrier that won’t last. yaz and thirteen argue about their mutual appetite for recklessness, thirteen’s duty of care, yaz’s protectiveness. the camera is abandoned, viewing them from an odd angle. it catches thirteen’s hand reaching for yaz, pulling back before yaz notices.

through clues in the house & rebooting an abandoned iphone, they discover what happened in this house. a young woman, a teacher—vivacious and funny if her texts are anything to go by—moved into this house ten years ago. then, she vanishes without a trace.

thirteen recognizes the date she disappears but doesn’t know why. the figure breaks in, forcing them down into the basement. there, they happen upon a gruesome sight that shocks thirteen: a powered down toclafane from the simm!master arc in s4.

she realizes that the date corresponds to the original paradox—and realizes that the creature is the vestiges of the young teacher, trapped by dark matter in a paradox that shouldn’t exist anymore. yaz mentions she used to have a nightmare about the orbs as a young kid every night for a week.

there’s Plot Stuff as they figure out how to fix the paradox for good. turns out, the creature is mad at the doctor, but thirteen won’t shoulder this burden for the master. he orchestrated that and thirteen did the best she could. she’s too angry to connect; it’s yaz who connects to the young woman left in the creature. who wanted her own adventures. she’s afraid of dying for good. yaz says she’s sorry, and the creature believes her.

the camera is abandoned on the table. the distortions have stopped. the sun rises. there’s a fast forward and yaz & thirteen are at the kitchen table, drinking “coffee.” (it still tastes good, anyway.) the aftermath of an argument. they mention the master. before the camera dies again, thirteen asks yaz if she has any new nightmares. she’s soft.

the last scene: yaz and sonya curled up together on the bed. sonya is shook. yaz is like, yeah i told you it was a lot. but sonya is shook because she had the same nightmare as a kid too. she asks if the doctor meddles too much, if they’d all be safer if she weren’t around.

yaz contemplates. she says: nothing in the universe is safe. she can’t save everyone, neither can i. but we try. and i feel safe with her. in more ways than one.

sonya teases yaz about a crush. yaz goes “no way!” but looks briefly devastated.

before they fall asleep, yaz remembers something. she asks sonya if she can borrow her phone.

ending credits: found footage of thirteen singing taylor swift on the tardis, doing some repairs with her greasy goggles on. yaz laughs.

#yasmin khan #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #thasmin #ANYWAY!!!#yell.txt

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necrowriter · 4 years

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monday thing: may eighteenth (on hidden obstacles)

lately I've been thinking about video games.

I've played quite a bit of Animal Crossing since New Horizons came out. so, as you just might have noticed, have a lot of other people. by pure coincidence it happened to come out at a time when a great many people needed exactly the kind of escapism Animal Crossing offers. it's peaceful and soothing and soft, an imaginary getaway to a distant island where the neighbors are all friendly, the waves lap gently against clean bright sand, and there is never anything much to worry about it.

but New Horizons was eagerly anticipated long before anyone had any inkling what the circumstances around its release were going to be. it's the fifth game in a very successful series. Animal Crossing has had something appealing to offer for a long time. in the wake of the success of New Horizons I've seen a number of people wondering--many jokingly, some not--about why, exactly, the series is so appealing. is it really that much fun to pay off a home loan? to pull weeds and water flowers? are people really so invested in the thought of buying furniture or catching bugs to sell?

the usual sort of answer--again, often a joking one, sometimes not--is that the appeal is that you can pay off your home loan, without stress or fear, without interest accumulating, without any consequences if you don't. you can earn all the money you need by doing simple, easy tasks, and in the meantime your tanuki landlord will happily wait on you for years if he has to. well ain't that an impossible dream, amirite? we might as well enjoy doing it in a video game because we have no hope of doing it in real life.

and that answer is true, I think, but it only scratches the surface of something that extends well beyond Animal Crossing.

Animal Crossing is perhaps the most extreme example, but many--maybe even most--video games offer the chance to pursue relatively normal, everyday sort of tasks even when the main focus of the game is something very grand and exciting. massive, open-world adventures and RPGs with epic, sweeping stories very often also allow you the opportunity to customize the living space or wardrobe of your main character, play minigames to earn money and prizes, or pursue smaller sidequests to build relationships with friends or lovers or just to help someone out. start a business! care for pets! grow flowers! hell, just take a nice walk if you want.

and if you listen to people talk about playing these games, you will often hear that they spent a great deal of time and energy on such tasks, sometimes much more than they ever spent on the main story or the bigger quests. given the choice, it seems, people are just as often drawn to the smaller things, even in games that also offer the sort of thing that seems like much more conventional wish-fulfillment. certainly I can attest to this. in Minecraft, a game where you can build enormous castles or terraform entire continents, I have spent many enjoyable hours instead building a small farm or a lakeside cottage. Breath of the Wild is a game where you play as a legendary hero reawoken to battle an ancient and terrible foe that has devastated your entire kingdom and sure, I took on that quest, but I did it in-between spending a lot more time gathering ingredients for cooking, feeding apples to my beloved horse, or taking pictures of birds. as soon as Pokemon offered the chance to take a break from becoming a master trainer of cool, powerful creatures to give those creatures head scritches and feed them cupcakes, you can bet I grabbed that opportunity with both hands.

why do we so often choose to do smaller, even ordinary, things, in these situations where it is just as easy, if not easier, to do great, big, awe-inspiring, impressive ones? when given the chance to be a hero of great renown wielding a sword of legends to save the entire world, why do I so often put doing that off to instead enjoy riding my horse through a sunny meadow? would you not expect the thing that I could never do in real life to hold more appeal and draw than something entirely possible, even ordinary?

well, that's obviously a hell of a deep psychological rabbit hole to go down, but I think part of it is this: games have a way of removing hidden obstacles. alright, and not-so-hidden obstacles, sure. if we look back at the Animal Crossing example, some of the obstacles the game removes are very. obvious. your loans have no interest or deadline, no consequence for failure. making money requires no resume, no qualifications, no applications, no stress, no fuss, nothing more than a butterfly net or fishing rod and some time to spare, at most. there are no taxes, no global warming, no troubling political news.

but there are smaller obstacles shaved off here and there as well. in the world of Animal Crossing it is not just big things that become more accessible, but also day to day things which in real life are often rendered accessible to achieve, but not to enjoy, because of the difficulties attached to them.

let's take gardening. a few posts back I talked about my own personal troubles with gardening: that it was something I did find enjoyment in, but also struggled with a great deal because ADHD presented so many challenges to doing it that I came to believe it was something I was simply inherently and permanently bad at. in Animal Crossing, on the other hand, most of those challenges don't exist. when you go to buy a plant, you always know exactly what it is. its needs are simple and straight-forward, and if the game doesn't tell you them then you can surely find them laid out clearly and easily with a quick visit to any of dozens of wikis and game info sites. there are clear signals included to help you carry out what you need to do. you can tell if you've watered a flower because it will sparkle. you can tell if a tree won't grow where you're trying to plant it, because the game will tell you so.

the gardening in Animal Crossing specifically is very simplistic. but it offers to you, and keeps, a promise which even games with more complicated requirements keep: here are the steps, here is the list of what you need to do, and if you do it right, something will grow, and grow well.

of course this also takes away some of the things that make the whole pastime worthwhile in real life. there is no sensation of digging your fingers into rich dirt, no fresh crop to pick and eat right off the stem. and seeing a pixel plant sprout and grow in stages will never quite compare to watching something very real and alive grow from a seed that you planted yourself. yet still I find distinct enjoyment in walking between the plots of my virtual garden in Animal Crossing, in raising virtual flowers and watching them bloom.

with some video games, I find the wish fulfillment to be as straight-forward as that: the emulation of an activity I want to do in real life, but find to be more difficult than enjoyable because of the obstacles associated with it. sometimes it's less direct. I have always enjoyed simulation and management games, games about building, cultivating, growing, raising, developing. but I've found myself particularly drawn to them over the past few years. building cities or kingdoms, running a large farm, managing a theme park or a zoo--there's great appeal there for me, even though I've never longed to pursue city planning or business management in the real world. but when things have felt at their most stagnant and hopeless, when I have felt unable to find any sign of progression or improvement in my own life, I have found comfort in being able to watch something grow, to put work in and see the results clear and apparent before me, however ephemeral those results are.

for me, I find that most often, the obstacles removed by doing something in a game mostly relate to the same thing: the struggle of planning, organizing and carrying out tasks, which is so often made so much easier when laid out for me as it is in a video game. it's a common criticism about some video games--sometimes, about the entire concept of video gaming--that playing them is essentially a matter of watching numbers go up. and, well, you've got me. it's true. I do like seeing numbers go up. I like seeing progress bars fill and skills unlock and quest objectives with check marks next to them. I like it because it's not something I get to experience much in real life: that sense of concrete progression, of knowing what I need to do and in what order I need to do it, of some acknowledgment and achievement for completing a task--yes, even if it is only a number going up! even if it is only a small cosmetic change, a new coat for my character, a section of map filling out, a pixel flower blooming on a pixel stem. better that than no sense of progress. better that than never really feeling sure if I've accomplished anything at all.

this is not something I always knew about myself. I've always liked video games, certainly, but thinking about the enjoyment I get out of them has gone hand in hand with learning more about how my own brain works. it's not only that video games can remove obstacles; by doing so, they can reveal to you that there were obstacles in places you never before realized. and there's value in that, I think. because sometimes it can show you that a problem you thought was in one place was actually in another place altogether. if something you think of as being boring, mundane, dull and exhausting becomes something you are willing and able to spend a lot of time and energy on, and get enjoyment out of, when it is framed in a different way--it may follow that the problem was not, as you thought, with the thing itself. the problem was in the obstacles around it.

of course, that's not always the case. the act of doing something in a game is often so thoroughly divorced from any semblance of doing it in real life that enjoying one has no bearing on enjoying the other. we play lots of games centered around doing things that most of us would never have any desire to do in real life. but sometimes it can lead you to discover that you enjoy things you didn't think you enjoyed, or are capable of doing things you didn't think you could do.

if nothing else, I think every single Animal Crossing island currently being developed, being visited, being joyfully and proudly shared online is evidence in the case against the idea that people fundamentally don't want to work and won't work if they don't have to. as is every painstakingly constructed Minecraft world, every Stardew Valley farm, every virtual city intricately planned, every virtual business budget carefully managed, every kingdom saved and map fully explored and character fully leveled and kitted out. because you don't do those things without putting time and concentration and effort into it. you just can't. it's not possible.

I think video games have a lot to tell us: about obstacles, and about effort, and about ourselves. some obstacles are incontrovertible, certainly. there are things built into the world which we can circumvent in video games but cannot, with all the best will in the world, change in our real lives. some things are always going to be more appealing virtually. my difficulties with gardening, for example, are always going to exist in some fashion because I cannot change the nature of how plants work. but knowing that something is an obstacle for you, and identifying why it is, can go a long way toward helping you figure out how to navigate around that obstacle, even if you can't remove it.

and sometimes when you realize that something is an obstacle, you realize that it doesn't need to be. that doesn't always translate to being able to do anything about it, of course. I doubt anyone needed Animal Crossing to tell them that home loans would be easier to repay without interest, and yet here we are. but I think there are a lot of things which we just sort of assume have to be difficult and boring and tiring and just thoroughly unenjoyable, because it is simply the nature of that thing, or the nature of us as people. nothing to do about it, just the way the world works.

sometimes that may be true. but surely not always.

I don't know.

but I will tell you this: by god, be proud of your virtual gardens.

they have worth.

#nonfiction #monday thing #monday thing may eighteenth

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morphituu · 5 years

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Milagro

Chapter 18: Back to Santa Monica

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17

Nick’s poor attempt at muffling his own hiss went unnoticed when Callie gripped his hand with a hold that could challenge an Orc’s, her forehead coming to press against his paling knuckles, gritting her teeth through the pressure.

“I’m sorry, I know these are awful,” Dr. Sangui sympathized, her hands and eyes busy behind the screen of the thin cloth draped between Callie’s knees.

“Mhm-” Callie tried to remain composed, but Nick could see the bands of muscle straining along the entire length of her legs propped up in the stirrups.

“Okay, aaand,” her doctor made quick work of her hands, followed by a few metallic clicks. “We’re done,”

Callie exhaled, her knees slapping together, whispering a soft, shy apology to Nick when she caught him shaking the blood back into his hand. He shrugged it off so she wouldn’t dwell, helping her sit up.

“Do you two have your bags packed yet?” Dr. Sangui asked after dropping the speculum into the sink and rolling towards them.

Nick snorted. “No,”

Callie flicked his hand.

“Well I think you may wanna keep them in the car, honestly. You’re about 70% effaced,” she grinned at Callie, instantly recognizing the excitement rising in her big eyes.

“What’s that?” Nick asked, feeling a little excluded from all the smiles.

“She could go into labor any day now,”

Nick’s poise flickered through a wide range of emotions just as his ears did, blindly reaching for Callie’s thigh to squeeze, but she was sure that although he would go on to tell her it was for moral support on her part, he was actually supporting himself so he didn’t fall forward onto his face.

“So he’s full term?” he cracked, grimacing at the betrayal of his voice.

“Right now his growth equates to a human baby at 36 weeks, at that stage we don’t stop labor if it comes. Callie’s body is showing all the right signs of labor preparation so I feel comfortable saying yes, he’s full term and you should have a little boy in your arms any day now,” her smile had started to break through her words, and by the time she finished, Callie was pressing her fingers over her own wide smile.

“Any day?” Nick repeated, the telling placement of his hand on his chest alerting Callie that he was leaning into breathlessness

“Yes sir, so pack those bags,” she scolded. “If you don’t have anymore questions or concerns I can get your paperwork organized and send you two on your way to get all the sleep you can.”

“Yes!” Callie clasped her hands together. “What secrets do you have to start labor?”

“I wish I had some,” Sangui frowned. “And while we’re at it, I'd like to go over our plan once more,”

“My natural birth plan?”

Nick’s glance up at her was one of annoyance; he didn’t understand why she had to be so hard-headed about this.

“Your back-up plan,”

“Assuming I even need one because I’m going to push him out,” Callie was frolicsome as ever, but her refusal to even consider the possibility of anything going south was worrisome. How would she handle the labor if it did go south?

“Seeing you wholeheartedly believing in yourself thrills me, but I need to hear you say you understand the importance of it, please . I don’t want any confusion if the time comes,”

Callie exhaled, choosing to look away from her doctors hardened, and seasoned stare. “I understand,” she established clearly, her mood having plummeted a little. “When can I cancel the c-section?”

“The second Leo is out,” she promised. “And a little personal advice from a mother of five,”

Nick’s eyes widened. Five!?

“Walk. Walk as much as you can and let gravity do its job,”

“That’s it?” Callie muttered in disbelief.

Sangui nodded enthusiastically. “Tried and true method of evicting those little things,”

Callie looked at Nick who in turn shrugged. “Of all things,”

“Just please, whatever you do, don’t use castor oil. I cannot stand to see another baby go to ICU,” Dr. Sangui pleaded, the familiar grief lining her expression telling all the heartache she’d endured from such unfortunate events.

“I’ve heard horror stories,” Callie agreed, and once again Nick was left in the dark as he waited for some kind of hint to be provided

“Listen to them. Okay! Let me go grab your papers and you two can get going!” She chimed happily, patting Nick’s shoulder as she passed and left the room.

Callie always giggled when Nick took it upon himself to help pull her shorts up her legs, tugging them up her thighs once she was standing despite her half-hearted attempts at shoving him away. When it came to the spandex band that covered the curve of her low stomach, he’d step away knowing she liked to fold it over a particular way.

The black tank-top was pulled down, already fanning her cheeks and tossing her hair off her shoulders. A deep flush dusted her freckled cheeks, one the brisk AC didn’t even harpen.

Nick gazed up at her, admiring. Like the first time he’d looked up at a police officer at six years old, eyes wide and sparkling in wonder, he now found himself stuck in the same predicament, unable to pull from the force keeping him there. This time however, he gravitated towards it instead of ducking shyly behind his father.

His strong hands came to hold her thigh, his forehead resting there also.

It had started to hit him while basking under the warm beams of her smile; the realization that soon his world that revolved around Callie would shift, and Leo would become the center.

There were times he’d wake from hazy dreams of finding Callie sitting in their bed, whispering in mystifying talk down at her arms where little hands grabbed blindly, and where even softer cries would bring him towards her despite feeling fear heavy his feet.

Nick took a composing breath, his hands squeezing her thigh steadily. Callie’s own came to caress the back of his head and neck, but with her global stomach in the way, she couldn’t lean down to kiss him into a tranquil state. She hoped her touch gliding across his wide shoulders that expanded with deep inhales did something for him like his comforting aura so often did for her when she found herself in a panic.

Now that the power of his night terrors were failing to do harm, they seemed to switch their assault on his wakefulness the closer they came to meeting Leo. The fluttering excitement was stirring, slowly simmering into fear, the steam clouding his eyes and leaving him in a confused haze.

What do I do if he doesn’t stop crying? How often can I hold him? What if he hates me?

Fatherhood was just around the corner, but there wasn’t much even she could do to prepare him, and the questions would likely remain unanswered until the time came for him to simply go through the motions of learning their son.

He’d started to absentmindedly draw designs across her thigh where the shorts didn’t reach, his head tilted and staring from behind his sunglasses at the woman who struggled to pay her parking ticket at the gate.

“How hard is it to press a button and swipe a card?” Callie chastised, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Nick shook his head. “Not like we need to be anywhere today,”

“Ross is calling and the heat is cooking me,” she whined, rallying a chuckle from him.

“Maybe it’ll bake him a little faster,”

“You got your oven mitts ready?” she cracked, and he laughed again.

The remnants of his smile lingered once looking back to the car ahead of him, his ears twitching when an alluring idea came to the forefront of his mind. “Do we have anything planned for dinner?”

Her eyes momentarily bounced around as she squinted, finally exhaling, “Nope,”

Nick grinned. “Date night?”

“Mm? What’ya have in mind?” she smiled when resting her chin in her palm and laying her phone in her lap.

“How about Santa Monica?”

Her smile wavered here and there between a scowl. “Last time we were there we got in that fight ,”

“That was last time,” Nick sighed.

“I know, okay, I just…” she fidgeted, halting her drumming fingers. “That was just a shitty day,”

Nick reached into her lap to smoothly scoop her hand into his, their fingers twining when he kissed the back of her hand, his eyes on the road as they finally made their way from the parking lot. “You know I’ll be sorry forever,”

“Callie open the fucking door!”

The heel of her palms stayed pressed against her eyes when she shook her head, leaned forward into her own lap. “Go away Nick,” she croaked, sniffling.

“Open the door!” he bellowed, his palm coming to hit the window sill of the passenger side door.

“Fuck off! Just leave me alone!” she screamed, fresh hot tears staining her cheeks.

“I’m not going until you fucking talk to me!”

“ I don't wanna talk !” she sobbed, and continued to scream as he yanked animalistically against the handle, the truck swaying side to side. “Nick stop before someone calls the cops!”

“I don’t fucking care!” he bellowed, truly uncaring of the strangers amongst the crowds coming in and out of the piers parking lot that had stopped to watch him beat wildly against the truck. “Now open the fucking door so we can go home!”

“ NO !”

She screamed when his lightning fast strike was enough to crack the window, the soft splintering filling the silence between them now as she looked at his heaving form that looked back in shock from his own outburst.

“I know,” she used the back of her knuckles to rub his chin before he held her thigh so she could have her hand back.

“That won’t happen again, I promise,” he still reassured.

“It’s okay baby, really,” Callie’s small smile was comforting, but he knew the somber memory still made her flinch sometimes when his temper grew explosive. “It’s not like I haven’t gone apeshit sometimes,”

“Yeah but I can just pick you up and toss you aside when you start tapping into those crackhead vibes,” Nick grinned when she giggled, her soft touch tracing the back of his hand as the wind tossed her loose hair around. “So do you wanna go?”

“Yeah, one more date with just us two,” she beamed, her smile brighter than any magic he’d bored witness to.

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not like all the times there were bad,” she suspired, leaning closer to give him that crooked, toothy grin.

Nick could only look at her in fleeting glances, but he’d recognize that glimmer of her eyes anyday. “Like?”

“Like the ball,”

Nick swallowed. “The black dress ball?”

“Mhm,” she bit her bottom lip, studying him closely.

“Nick stoh- stop stop I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum!” she sobbed, thighs trembling and spread in his lap. He was buried to the knuckles in her pussy, his hand other working her flushed tits that shook with her ragged breaths.

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” he sneered against her hair, the shimmering black dress pooled around her waist.

The aching of her knee started to dull as she ebbed closer, her heeled foot hooked onto the dashboard and fingers dug into the fabric across his thighs, surely burning her own palms the longer he extended his torture.

His fingertips found her clit for only a moment before sliding two fingers back in, her spine arching immediately when he drummed her spot.

“Ah fuck-” she choked, curling off his body. “Nick, Nick Nick-”

“Fuck I love it when you shake like that,” he growled, teeth bared and gripping her breast tight enough to make her whimper, but it was all muted the moment she climaxed.

Callie was always a sight to behold when this moment came; the way she chanted his name until her voice broke, her hips rolling perfectly into his rhythm, and there was always the pulses of her pussy. How he could feel her slick walls milking his fingers, and could practically taste her sweet nectar he scented furiously.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered, dragging his slick fingers out to rub her sensitive clit. There were a few listless jerks of her body, but Callie twisted in his hold after evening her breathing, her sore fingers curling in his shoulders to steady herself.

Her movements were wobbly and sloppy, but this night, Nick was too heated and hard to stop her from wiggling upright in his lap, and clumsily reaching down to guide his hard as rock cock inside once he’d done away with the belt and zipper.

His head hit the headrest, eyes closed and moaning against her parted lips that ghosted against his. She tasted like the champagne they’d been served in crystal glasses, her touch cold across his chest once she’d run down the length of buttons.

Every slow drop of her hips took him back in with ease, a breathless whine meeting his lips every time he filled her.

The fallen strands of her messy hair that was once pinned up in a soft french twist now tickled his cheeks as she looked down at him with balmy eyes.

Nick’s mind further unraveled when she leaned back against the steering wheel, switching to soft bounces that dropped her head back in the wake of a loud moan.

The smooth plain of her torso was bared for him to touch, his palms sliding flat up between her breasts and resting at her neck as he bucked into her sweet pussy, his own cries starting to fill the steamy space of the trucks cab.

A few snaps before his eyes brought him back with a deep flush and growing erection, his heavy eyes finding her looking up at him curiously.

“Are you daydreaming?” she smiled, poking his hip.

Nick shrugged, his knees swinging wide as he adjusted the achy hard-on in his shorts while following her to the next aisle. He quickly offered an elbow upon watching her waddle with a hand pressed into the wearied crook of her spine, still keeping a hand at her back when he reached up to top shelves for her.

“Here,” she took both of her selections and hung a bag on each of his shoulders, studying them meticulously.

“Why me?” he cocked a hairless brow.

“You’re gonna be carrying it while I’m dying of labor pains,” she grinned. “I think I like the Puma one,”

“If I’m carrying why can’t it be more me looking?”

“They don’t have any blue ones,” she pointed with a frown, narrowly avoiding the slap to her ass. “If I scream that someone from the Blue Man Group is hitting me people will come running!”

Nick chuffed, hooking his arm around her shoulders before she could slip away, hanging on tight when she tried to squirm away. She let out high pitched laughter into his chest as he shoved his face between her shoulder and cheek, all in attempts to chuff into her ear; it always made her squirm and scream.

“Cheesecake!” she finally squealed, slapping a few rounds worth of hits against his arms that didn’t phase him in the slightest. “You ruined my bun!”

“Ahh it was already fucked, c’mon fur ball,”

Now Nick barely avoided a hard punch to his arm after grabbing the bag of her choice and moving on, only coming back to her side to help her walk after she pinky promised she wouldn’t groin shot him.

“So what else?” he asked, his arm hung around her shoulders.

“Swaddling blankets. I have everything I need at home-”

Nick nearly lost his footing when his arm didn’t follow, but he quickly realized what was happening when he came to face her pinched brows and scrunched nose, the irritated turn of her jaw.

“Bad one?” he questioned keenly, glaring at a couple that murmured lowly in annoyance as they moved around a steadfast Callie at the center of an aisle.

She nodded, exhaling slowly. “Thought my water was gonna break everywhere for a second,”

Nick felt the blood come back to his face. “Wait until we’re in the car at least so I can just drive you to the hospital,”

She snickered, leaning more into his arm now as they ambled around the store.

The mostly curious, sometimes disgusted and other times intrigued gawks in their direction was for the most part ignored now; years of toughening allowed him to now brush the remarks off, but even he couldn’t resist growling lowly when the looks deviated, dragging up and down Callie, or his form. If there was ever a time Nick hated his heightened sense of smell, it was in Targets with middle aged mothers who would outwardly glare at him, but upon passing, their arousal would give them away, often accompanied by a glance over their shoulder at the beefy Orc.

“There’s another cougar looking at you,” Callie would whisper, pointing with her chin.

It’s when he’d give a small reminder to the less informed humans that he was spoken for, usually with a hand slipped into Callie’s back pocket or slyly pulling her hair back from her face to reveal the faint bite under her jaw.

“So where’re we eating?” Callie piped, gently touching a pair of thin, silver earrings whose jewels sparkled softly.

“Mariasol’s? I could go for some ceviche,” Nick’s mouth watered at just the thought.

“Oh good, I thought you were gonna be tired of Mexican after these last two weeks,”

He scoffed. “I haven’t grown tired of you, have I?” he asked against the shell of her ear, smiling when she blushed.

“Nick?”

They both turned at the unrecognized call of his name, but Callie caught the stiffening of Nick’s spine before she even had a chance to properly overlook the lean Orc woman that had called after him.

“Grohet?” Nick said, his eyes peeled.

“Yeah- hi!” she smiled, her stubby tusks barely peeking from her lips as she moved forward to hug him.

Although Nick’s embrace was stiff and half-hearted, it still shrunk Callie back to his side, unknowing where to look or how to place her hands as she took in small details of the admittedly gorgeous woman before her lover.

“How’ve you been?” she went on to ask, respectfully stepping away from him.

“Uh yeah, good, real good. God it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” Nick replied nervously, his eyes shooting to Callie’s and finding the anxiousness. “This is my girlfriend Callie,” he proudly introduced, his hand returning to the spot at her back

“The lone wolf is finally settling down, huh?” Grohet teased, shaking Callie’s hand gently.

Callie’s head cocked. Lone wolf?

“Najbor-tuk or lavgru-mal?”

“Boy, we’re naming him Leo,” Nick went on, his chest puffing.

“About to pop then?” she asked, and although Callie nodded and snaked her arm behind Nick again with a nonchalant smile to match, she wanted out of that conversation immediately.

She didn’t need to be told to know these two had history.

The kind that made Nick fidgety, or her cock a painted brow when she spotted Callie’s obvious condition.

It also made her wonder how he’d jumped from tall, elegant Orcs with velvety voices to her stunted stature and tangly hair that even annoyed her sometimes.

God, she was almost his height and built like an Olympian-

“Maybe, but we should get going, we have a few more errands to run,” Nick’s voice broke through her thoughts, but by the time she realized she’d been glaring at Grohet, he was already shaking her hand.

“Yeah me too. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you two around.” She grinned at Callie who could barely muster her own. Grohet strolled away leisurely, pushing her earphones back.

“I thought she moved out of LA,” he pondered out loud. “You alright?”

Callie nodded with a sour grin. “Cramps,” she lied.

“Well let’s get you off your feet then.” He offered an elbow, the couple setting off back down the aisle as Nick went on to chat about something she didn’t quite catch when glancing over her shoulder, but the mysterious woman was already gone.

It was surprising how easily he found parking this time of day, and so close, but before he could even turn off the truck, he was staring at Callie again, more notably her downcast eyes and hands toying listlessly in her lap.

“Callie,” he sighed.

“Hm?”

“Talk,”

She pursed her lips, looking at him with glossy eyes. “You never mentioned her before,”

Nick’s expression turned horrified. “Why’re you crying?”

“I’m not, it’s the fucking hormones,” she sniffled.

“What-”

“Why didn’t you ever mention her?” she questioned. “I’ve sat and talked about your exes with your mom and that one never came up,”

“She wasn’t an ex,” he intoned, resting back in his seat and turning the engine off.

“Oh bullshit,” Callie scoffed. “Just spit it out,”

He looked to her with apprehension, sighing as he said, “She was a fuck buddy,”

A few seconds of Callie’s blank mein ticked by, then a few more before she calmly situated back in her seat, holding her round stomach. “An ex would’ve been better,”

Nick sighed again, unsure of what to even say that could expel the tension, or calm the unrest in her mind.

“How long?” she asked softly.

He shook his head in uncertainty. “Five-ish months?”

Now she looked at him, her brows pulled together in mild discomfort. “How’d you two meet?”

“O-Date,”

“So it started as a date?” she whined, but Nick had grabbed her hand, turning in his seat to face her.

“She told me within ten minutes she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She only wanted sex,”

“For five months!?”

“Callie,” he stopped her rampage. “That’s not fair,”

Her brows furrowed now.

“I didn’t ridicule you for the guys you slept with before me,”

She looked down at his hand holding hers, his thumb stroking her skin. “What was she like?”

“I don’t know,”

Callie looked at him in confusion.

“It was literally just sex, we didn’t even talk. I’m surprised she even remembered my name,”

“What’s with the lone wolf thing?”

Nick looked outwards, his lips in a straight line. “It was my username…”

Callie tried, but she still giggled at it. “She’s pretty,”

Nick scoffed. “She has fake eyebrows,”

She laughed this time, bringing her forehead to rest against his knuckles. “I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be. I’d flip if one of your ex’s came strolling up like that,”

With a shrug she said, “I’m positive none of them would even come up if you were standing next to me,”

“That’s what you get when you date white boys,”

“Shut up! You fucked someone with fake eyebrows!”

Nick’s leer was menacing. “You really wanna go there?”

“Uhh…” Callie could only utter, the sheet wrapped loosely around her bare form. “Can… are you okay? Josh-”

Fuck, was his name Josh!?

He only waved her away, his face buried in his other palm as he choked down hiccuping sobs and sat facing away from her at the end of his bed. His bony shoulders shook terribly; it freaked her out a little bit.

“Y-you can lea-leave,” he at last choked out, rising naked from his spot and wobbling out of his messy room.

She could hear him bumping against the doorframe to another room, and until she heard the door lock did she remain motionless, but as soon as she could hear his intensifying cries drowning out in the slurred words of who ever he was calling, Callie was on her feet and pulling her clothes back on with her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder.

“Pickuppickuppickup-” she hissed, yanking her jeans up her legs.

“Hey bitch-

“Rosie come pick me up,” Callie rushed, flinging her phone down only a moment to pull her shirt on.

“That was fast-”

“NO, he fucked me for three seconds now he’s in the other room crying!”

There was a long pause. “What!?”

“Why are you making me relive that?” Callie carped.

“Cuz you reminded me of the time I rubbed off one of her eyebrows and it was horrifying,”

She managed to stifle most of the laughter, but he’d at least had the courtesy of not laughing at her when she’d first retold the tale of her flee from the boy that had started sobbing like she’d murdered his family before him, and muted her amusement.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his hand smoothing the back of her head.

Callie nodded, the rampant thoughts diminished and Leo rousing lively after hearing his father speak. “I’m sorry,” she again said softer.

There was only a shake of his head before he closed the space between them, his lips meeting hers for confident, full kisses that made her cheeks warm. His big hands concealing her reddened cheeks only continued to warm as he prolonged the kisses, speaking softly to her in whispers only she would ever hear.

“Okay,” Nick forcefully threw the truck into park in his excitement, the pair looking out to where they’d already spotted Dinara and Oleg sitting at one of the outside patios of the bar. “Ready?”

She nodded, but didn’t move except for her leg that was bouncing like it had its own engine.

“Baby,” he held the back of her neck until she looked at him with glossy, wide eyes.

“It’s the third time,” her voice broke, quickly wiping her eyes. “What if-”

“No, we already said no what if’s. This,” he reached to place a hand over her flat stomach that would soon start to bulge. “This is it. There’s no more what ifs,”

Her lip started to tremble. “What if I lose this one too?”

Before she could even continue he was bringing her forehead against his, holding her steadfast, vanquishing all of the fear if only for a few seconds. Her grip on his wrists was tight, but he knew it was out of fear, not repulsion, and his unwavering support was what she’d need now and until she pushed this baby out despite fearing it would be ripped from her grasp like the ones previous.

“This is the one Callie,” he spoke softly, his palms moving smoothly over her cheeks. “Pick names because you’re gonna be a mom,”

She smiled, weakly, but it was still something. He kissed her head when it dropped, allowing her the minutes she needed to compose herself before they’d once again step before his parents and tell them she was expecting.

“It feels like yesterday,” he mumbled, his mottled finger following Leo.

“I didn’t think I could do it,” she admitted carefully, shame filling those big caramel eyes when meeting Nick’s bewilderment. “My body’s never been reliable,”

He couldn’t argue that. Between miscarriages and endless medicated routines that turned Callie’s body sour, the ornery temper of her womb would always seem to flare up when she least needed it.

“Baby?” he called, shrugging off his bag by the door and hanging his keys. He pushed down Pucca who excitedly pawed as his hip, shoving her wide head under his hand with a series of high-pitched whines.

“Where’s mama?” he played, but the sudden spin and glance over her shoulder Pucca shot back at him brought his teasing manner down. Nick furrowed his brows as he looked down at Pucca’s perked ears and straight as an arrow tail.

“Where’s mama?” he asked again, beelining after her when she took off down the hall, her nails ripping across the carpet.

The blood assaulted his senses before he even made it to Callie’s aid, curled up in bed under the sheets.

Pucca started barking beside her, whining when Nick whipped the sheet away to lay bare the blood pooling beneath her.

“Cal-” he gasped, Pucca continuing to cry beside them.

The stench of sickly blood still laid vivid in the meadows of his mind no matter how he fought to forget it’s odor, but a quick, and comforting look at her stomach swelled beautifully with his healthy baby brought him back from the darker corners of his mind.

“Ready to eat?” he asked.

“Yep.” She nodded, thankful to be steered away from those memories.

Nick was there as always to help her down from the high seat, his hold at her sides unmoving until she was steady and clear headed. His daily attentiveness reminded her of the faith she held in him, knowing the same strong arms that so guarded her would be where Leo would lay safely, cradled and shielded from any harm.

As she looked up at him with their hands joined, listening to him speak about the ambiance of the outside bar he wanted to sit at, she knew he’d share his thoughts and lessons with their son throughout his life, confident that the same excitement that glimmered in his eyes would grow brighter once he looked into Leo’s inquisitive eyes.

Nick took notice to her quiet stares, her brows furrowed every so slightly as she gazed, and listened, a hand rested over her stomach once sat under the warm lights lining the patio like stars.

“What?” he scoffed, his curiosity growing when she shook her head, but gave him that toothy, crooked grin.

“I just like listening to you talk,”

“Even after all these years?”

“I can’t wait to hear you talk to Leo,” she wavered, batting her glossy eyes.

Nick waved his hand, leaning his cheek into his palm shyly when she smiled adoringly at him.

But did she know how excited he was to see her with Leo in her arms? To at last give her what she’d fought for? To be lulled by the soft lullabies he knew she was saving for her son, and watch her admire the tiny hands she’d soon be able to kiss?

Nick stared at her now much in the same way she did, his heart hammering and his quiet breaths unsteady.

Could he keep her forever? Would her overflowing love for Leo leave room for him after all he’d put her through to get here?

He swallowed, smiling off her soft accusation of staring, his eyes diverting to the menus before them.

His eyes roamed over the words, but his heart was directing his attention to the question he’d wanted to hear her scream yes to that first time he’d ever spoken of his desire to make her his wife.

“They’re gonna like you,” he buoyed, snatching her hand to kiss her fingers.

“Says the one who told me how vicious your mother was when she met your other girlfriends,” she whined.

“You’re different,”

“Oh yeah? How?”

Nick sat up, inclining to kiss her sweetly once before saying, “I didn’t plan to marry any of those other girls,”

It didn’t register right away, but when it did, he saw the gravity of his words flicker across her face. First it was a loose smile, then the furrowed brows, them pure confusion, all making him smirk.

“What?” she croaked.

“You heard me,”

She situated better, scooting closer. “How’re you so confident after everything that’s happened? You never once thought we were hopeless?”

“Sure, but I never stopped feeling it. No matter what I did it’s been the same since I first saw you. Hit me like a bullet to the heart,” he explained, witnessing the glaze move over her eyes.

“Wh-” she cleared her throat when her voice cracked severely, moving her hair behind her ears. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Cause of the shit you’ll get for wanting to be with someone like me,”

He blew air. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone says, even if it’s our families. And it doesn’t have to be soon, hell it can be on our deathbeds, but no matter what, I’m gonna marry you one day Callie. Even if we’ve only known each other so briefly, and some of it was apart, I can’t fathom a life without you,”

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “You’re so sure you wanna spend that long with me?”

“Are you asking me, or yourself?” he questioned, leaning on a hand closer to her. “If you don’t want to spend that long with me, it’s okay-”

“I’m asking you. I know what I want, but do you?” she asked softly.

He kissed her again, resting his forehead against hers. “I want forever with you. Everything about you-”

“My anxiety?”

“Callie-”

“I can never give you a family,” she grieved, but he hushed her, kissing her silent.

“Anything, everything, always. You can’t scare me away,” he laughed, and so did she.

Nick glanced around. Could I do it here? There were only a few more patrons filling up the patio that late afternoon, individuals that hadn’t even given the odd couple second glances.

He looked back to Callie, leaned to the side and going on about Leo favoring her left side the past few days.

I don’t have a ring.

That smothered his flame some, but the thought of Callie not being his in every sense possible made his heart ache, even if she was branded with his mark and carried his scent.

He gazed at the smile that had made his heart thunder to life that first time all those years ago, the freckles he’d once counted as she slept tangled in his hold. Her big eyes that twinkled with life, even in the dark.

Callie’s soft ranting about the price of an enchilada dish halted when her hand was suddenly enveloped by his on the tables surface, and as soon as she found the bubbling, skittish fear in his eyes, somewhere deep down in her heart, she knew what was coming.

“Callie-”

“Hey there! My name is Kim and I’ll be helpin’ you two out tonight,” the cheery, short statured waitress popped up, laying down coasters. “Can I start you two off with any Liquid Marijuanas or Mai Tai’s? Maybe a bottle of Black Sky for you sir?”

“Uh-” Callie started.

“Woops! Or maybe some waters? Fresh horchata? Jamaica?”

“Can we have time to look at the menu?” Nick stopped her, his agitation growing.

“For sure! I’ll swing by in a few minutes!” and Kim was off, pacing towards the next table.

Nick exhaled bitterly, letting go of her hand to open his menu again in preparation.

“What were you gonna say?” Callie asked, eyes hopeful and waiting.

Not now, not here. I’ll take the signs. “If you minded if I drank a little,” he grinned.

The mild disappointment in her tone when she replied made him wonder if she knew what had been coming, and if she’d been hopeful for it.

Callie acted nonchalant when she leaned back in her chair, quickly changing subjects and not really letting a word in otherwise, but he understood. He knew it was so she didn’t have to argue with her own thoughts and emotions of hidden embarrassment.

Suddenly the dinner felt like it’d take too long, but a quick reminder of their last date they’d ever have as just Nick and Callie settled that impatience.

If the time he would ask could be perfect, he’d wait.

But once the food came and went, his nerves grew.

When they finally raised from their seats after talking for what felt like hours, lost in one anothers smiles and soft caresses across their hands, he found his hands starting to shake.

The sky was melting into waves of oranges and purples, glowing over the crashing waves she wanted to sit in the sand before. Nick held their shoes in one hand and hers in the other, wobbling over the warm sand until they found a spot close to the shoreline.

He made sure she was safely nestled before flopping down behind her, his legs on either of her sides and arms coming to wrap around her cool arms, her thick hair wisping in the cool breeze under his chin.

She reclined into his chest, gently shh-ing Leo when Nick brought his vivacious side out, both of them chuckling when his touch was kicked away.

Their voices and conversation dimmed with the setting sun, Callie’s heavy eyes lingering on the thin wash of water that crept up and down the beach.

Sometimes she could still hear Pucca barking and running through the shallow water, uncaring of what child she mowed down in her efforts to chase her ball. Callie didn’t think she’d ever get over the absence of her deceased companion. Her bed still sat by the hallway entrance, her bowls still below the bar.

She turned her shoulders to press her face into Nick’s chest, curling into a tighter ball.

His firm hold around her frame stirred a content moan, goosebumps firing up her arms where his hand rubbed up and down.

Nick released a steadying breath low enough to go unnoticed, opening his eyes after his small pep talk that now felt foolish. Nothing would help with this intense fluttering in his gut except her final answer, whether it be what he wanted or not.

“Callie?”

“Hm?” she lifted her nose to press under his chin.

He blinked away the heartbeat behind his eyes, licking his dry lips. “Will you marry me?”

Callie looked up at him now, and he worried she’d heard the shake in his breath after asking, but the beaming smile shining up at him after some visible tension had fallen off her shoulders made him laugh nervously, his brows starting to furrow when she didn’t answer right away.

“Yes, yes- I want to be your wife,” she sighed, her grip already moving to his broad chest.

Nick felt his heart vault back between his ribs from his stomach, a loud exhale making her laugh when she realized he’d been holding his breath.

“Did you think I’d say no?” she asked against his mouth when he started peppering her face with kisses.

“I did,” he groaned apologetically. “Every time I brought it up you seemed to hate the idea,”

“What!?” she exclaimed. “Nick I’ve wanted to marry you since we first got back together, but I didn’t trust myself to remain the person you fell in love with if I would’ve kept losing babies, especially Leo,”

“Why would I stop loving you for that?”

“I don’t doubt you, but I don’t know if you would’ve been able to live with the person I could’ve become, regardless of how much you love me. I didn’t want to disappoint you anymore,” she explained sullenly.

She tried to look down despite his hands angling her face up, pressing her cheek into his palm bashfully.

“You’d be doing me the honor of being my wife, because I don’t deserve someone as brave, and strong and fucking gorgeous as you”

“Nick stop,” she wept, his hands bringing her back when she shook her head.

“I don’t deserve you but you’re my other half, Calista. I’m not me without you. You’re my best friend, and my home. You’re my fucking girl,” his voice had started to shake again, his brows arched in annoyance that he couldn’t remain composed, but her lips sealed his when there was no more to be said. Without words she calmed the torrid emotions, reassuring that he hadn’t made a mistake in asking for her hand.

She promised she’d excel the ideal image of a wife just as he did when he swore her everlasting protection and devotion, and together they vowed the home for Leo, the love, patience, and everything else they would surround their son with as he came into this world and grew.

When their tears had dried and he again kept her tight against his chest, his flannel removed and draped over her body, she started to giggle to herself until he leaned back to look at her in question.

“You couldn’t have asked before we ran into your ex fuck buddy so you could introduce me as your fiancée?” she smiled playfully.

“Do you want me to scream it in case anymore are around?”

Her smile dissolved. “More?”

“I’m joking.” he grinned, blocking her hits against his arms and chest until he got his arms around hers to continue smothering her with kisses.

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✨🎉🔔⛪⛪⛪🔔🎉✨

i'm already writing the next chapter. it's time.

as always, thank you @rfitzhugh74 for being the kind of best friend everyone deserves, and always helping me with this beast 💛🖤

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jealousbitchdennis · 5 years

Text

Since we didn't end with jealous Dennis and Mac with a boyfriend in TGGR, I'm prepared to settle back in for a normal, silly season of classic MacDen shenanigans. Which is perfect! That's exactly what I want! I want each episode to be just a little more cute and a little more clear about how comfortable and deep Mac and Dennis's bond has really become. I want insight into how their texting relationship has regrown since Dennis came back from North Dakota. I want homoerotic tension ala the old Hollywood Noir films in TJAMT. I want explicit, over the top, on the nose metaphors in Solves Global Warming with Dennis making faces in the background because he's the only one who notices only for those faces to fade into little shrugs and nods and maybe even smiles to himself because it doesn't scare him anymore. I want little domestic moments all through the whole thing, references to the movies they watch and each others' opinions on coffee.

And then I want them to play laser tag in Waiting For Big Mo. It's dark, and the adrenaline is pumping, and they've been waiting forever for this Mo guy that Frank insists is going ti be here any second but clearly is never going to show. They started a game with the promise of restarting should the mysterious man actually make an appearance, and they've all been joshing around and pissing each other off to pass the time, teams forming and breaking every few minutes, and it feels natural. Classic Gang stuff.

I want the atmosphere to get to Dennis, the annoying but familiar sounds of the arena pinging off in the background, and the constant, comforting presence of Mac at his side. A noise a few yards away puts them on high alert, and without a word, Mac yanks his arm, and the two of them duck to the side, finding a short lived safe haven behind one of the stacked-cube obstacles. When Dennis looks up, the neon lights break through the shadows and paint Mac's face in slices of inhuman colors, blue and green, exaggerating his cheekbones and putting a synthetic shine in his eyes. His hair is all ruffled from the gameplay, and they're both panting from running around so much.

It makes Dennis's eyes go wide and he starts to get that feeling he's been fighting for a while - the same one from the restuarant and the RPG and... he starts to lift a hand to Mac's face. It's so easy, even though before it always seemed so hard. Maybe that means he's finally ready... for whatever comes next... Then the lights go up, and he freezes, and they whip around to find Frank walking up with a big cheesy grin, Charlie and Dee grumbling furiously on his either side.

"Hey, assholes! Look! I told you he'd show any second. We're starting again - with real teams this time. Hope you losers are ready to get your ass beat!"

The three of them part, and a moderately fit and attractive man in his forties steps through from behind to apologize for being late, it was a family emergency or something, when he stops short. Dennis follows his eyeline to Mac, who stares back with his mouth hanging open.

"Mac?" The man starts to grin, a little taken aback.

"Wait," Frank interrupts, waving his hands around. "You know this homo?"

Just the look on Mac's face alone confirms it. Mac and the random man that Frank found on craigslist who knows his name - Big Mo, according to Frank, Morgan according to Mac - marvel over running into each other for a second, before Dee gets the bright idea to cut in and demand to have it explained how the two jerkwads know each other anyways. Mac stops short, fumbling for a moment, and the two men lock eyes. It's weird and obvious and Dennis is starting to lose feeling in his legs.

"Well," Big Mo says, looking to Mac, who immediately flushes.

"Right... so..."

"Well?" Dee prompts.

"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't get any further.

"Oh!" Charlie claps, looking between the two, then scrunches his nose. "Ohhhh..."

"Oh! Woof," Dee grimaces. "You and him?"

Mac glares at them.

"What?" Frank narrows his gaze, looking around at each of them. "I don't get it."

Charlie turns to answer his troll-like roommate, voice sliding a bit higher as he uses made up terms to explain that Mac and Big Mo are, in fact, gay lovers. Dennis can feel his brows furrowing, and his scowl deepening but he can't do anything to stop it. Something, a feeling, an impulse, is clawing at his ribs. Dee corrects Charlie's terminology with a sick combination of glee and repulsion contorting her expression, and Mac practically trips over himself to correct her and then tell all three of them to shut up because that's not it, okay?

"Actually," he says, "we didn't just hook up, okay? We went on a date. We dated. I'm dating material now, so."

The response he gets is a chorus of "Oof," and "Awkward," and "Wait, Big Mo's a gay? I hired a gay guy off Craigslist?"

Mac scowls, agitated. "No, no, not awkward! Not oof, because it didn't end badly!"

"It didn't end at all," Big Mo notes, linking their hands. "We're still dating"

"Exactly!"

"What?" The word rips from his throat like it's been waiting impatiently to escape. Dennis can't even appreciate finally finding his voice, as everyone stares at him. He only has enough eyes to stare back at Mac.

Big Mo nods, oblivious to the tension. "Yeah. We've been seeing each other about - what was it, babe? Three months?"

The entire gang balks before losing their shit. "WHAT?"

"No! No, we. I mean, our first date was..." Mac's eyebrows jump. He clears his throat awkwardly, before untangling their hands and wrapping an arm around Big Mo's waist. "Okay. So... guys... I guess I have something to tell you."

"Oh, do you?" Charlie drawls.

Mac swats at him with his gun. "I have a... boyfriend, now. And, uh, this is him."

Dennis feels the gun slip out of his fingers. The others have already processed the information, are responding and poking fun and telling him his boyfriend must be an asshole for making them wait so long, and arguing with each other about the game they've already played and whether it's Mac's fault seeing as it's his boyfriend that Frank hired who ended up late, and all Dennis can think is, seriously? That's it? They're just going to nod their heads and except this massive, earth-shattering shift to the status quo as if they were in any way prepared for this to happen? Seriously? Seriously?

"The laser tag arena will be closing in fifteen minutes," a voice interrupts their thoughts over the loudspeaker. "Please wrap up your games and return your guns to the stations, located at the front desk, or to any of our standing attendants by the arena exits."

The words echo in his head as Charlie starts yet another fight with Frank, and Dee complains over the top about being undervalued as a player because she's a woman. He can't seem to stop staring at where Mac's hand rests on Big Mo's hip. Nobody else seems to have heard the overhead announcement. They have to go soon, but nobody else seems to even realize. They can't stay, but nobody is moving. Only Mac's brow furrows, and he turns to look at Dennis.

"Hey, did you hear that? Should we get going?"

Dennis blinks before forcing a smile. "Right, yeah, of course. No, of course. Actually, you know what? You two go on ahead."

"You sure?" Mac's mouth turns down.

Dennis keeps his smile pinned. "Course! We'll catch up."

He nods, brow furrowed, shrugging and taking Big Mo with him through the exit, leaving Dennis to stand there, like an idiot, watching after him as their three other idiots blow his ear drums out with their incessant screaming.

#macdennis #iasip #it's always sunny in philadelphia #dennis reynolds #s14 #mac mcdonald #iasip s14 #jealousbitchdennis txt #season 14 #tggr #tgc #iasip tgc #the gang chokes #rob mcelhenney #glenn howerton #waiting for big mo

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Live Aid reunion; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay guys here we go. A HUGE time skip but completely necessary and here we come to the ULTIMATE CHAPTER that I’m sure everyone was dying to see. LIVE AID 1985. Of course I had to make a chapter about this, I’d be stupid to not to. ALSO IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME. CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNERS.

Okay so BIG REQUIREMENT. LISTEN TO THE SONGS I HAVE FOR YOU ALL. AND IF YOU ALL WANT. PLAY THE LIVE AID SCENE IF ANY OF YOU HAVE THE DVD TO HELP PUT THIS INTO MOTION. Hope you all enjoy this fabulous chapter :)

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

@geek-and-proud

@queens-rose-garden

@mr-badguymercury

@starswin

@5sos-wdw

@labessieisallama

@isabella-bby

@dj-lowkey

@psychosupernatural

@naturalswifty89

@ixchel-9275

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

_________________________________________________________

*July 11th, 1985*

This is probably the biggest show I will ever play in my entire life, not only is it a concert but it’s also a charity benefit.

The Live Aid charity benefit concert, to help with the hunger relief in Africa. 100,000 tickets sold for Wembley stadium, Philadelphia, JFK stadium, 13 global satellites for 150 countries. Jim had called me up telling me that the BBC was hoping that I would make an appearance to help raise money for the concert.

And me being the charity person that I am agreed to make an appearance although I was hiding a little secret from Jim, as well as the rest of the world. At the time I had gotten the call, I was 5 months pregnant with mine and Jack’s first child.

It was two days before Live Aid. Jack and I were told where I was to go for the soundcheck and rehearsal and according to the planner for the day of the concert, I was to go after Sting and Phil Collins.

“As I live and breathe (Y/n) Kline. And might I say you truly are glowing.” Jack and I turned around and there stood my good friend David Bowie.

In fact before I even found out about my pregnancy, David had asked me to be on his next album and it was him who was starting to see the signs of my early stages of pregnancy, due to him remembering what his first wife went through.

After confirming the news, he allowed me to go back home to Jack and be with him and celebrate our first upcoming child.

“David,” I praised as he came over to me and embraced me.

“Oh love you are glowing just like the stars at night.” He stated as we separated and he took my hands and kissed them. “How have you been feeling?”

“Ohh the usual, morning sickness, the cravings, and irregular sleep schedule. But Jack’s been taking great care of me.” Jack and David shook hands and greeted each other and I said. “So how’d you get involved with the Live Aid?”

“My agent gave me a call, also when I heard Queen was coming I knew I had to also be a part of this production and perform after them.”

“Wait, wait….the boys are here too? All of them?”

“Yes, it was last minute from what Freddie had told me last I saw him about an hour ago.” David explained.

“How….how has he been?” Even though Freddie and I—well ever since the fight before my wedding. I hadn’t wanted anything to do with him but the minute I had seen with my own eyes on live TV, that Paul had been fired and was confessing all these stories about Freddie’s sexuality and countless lovers, I still felt concern for him. Even after all the crap he had said to me.

“It’s not my place to say but if I were you, I’d go and see them. They’re doing a private rehearsal right now inside the stadium. You deserve closure love; you and Fred are like family to me and it hurts to see you still hold bad blood between him.”

“I agree. And I have tried to reach out, but it was always that fucker Prenter who answered and I—I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t bear to see Fred so long as he was still in the picture.”

“Where did you say there were at again David?” asked Jack.

“Just inside the stadium in the rehearsal room, can’t miss it go inside turn right and it’s the double doors literally straight ahead.”

“Thanks David.”

“Anytime love. I can’t wait to see your performance come showtime.” With that we said our goodbyes.

Once we reached the rehearsal room, Jack turned to me and he said.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I need to see my boys together again. It’s been too long.”

“I agree,” he leaned forward and kissed me before we both opened the doors. I could hear the instruments stop and Freddie’s voice went quiet. Probably due to the sunlight the boys might not have known who exactly was standing before them but I then spoke up.

“Glad to see my boys are playing together again.”

“(Y/n)?” I heard Brian’s voice say. I stepped down a few steps and smiled widely as I nodded frantically and laughed joyously, overcome by my pregnancy hormones.

“(Y/n)!” I heard Brian, Deacy and Roger cry out as they raced towards me. Never have I seen them run so fast up a flight of stairs as the first one to hug and kiss me was Roger.

“Oh my god (y/n)! You’re back you’re back you’re back you’re back!” He separated from me and he finally got a good look at me as he cupped my face, “Wait a-are you—are you…..”

“Yeah. 5 months since last week.”

“Oh darling that’s wonderful! Congratulations.” Brian said as he took his turn to hug me now. I then turned to Deacy and embraced him as well.

They also warmly greeted Jack as well with brotherly hugs and telling him congratulations on joining the father club and if he ever needed advice just give them a ring. Jack thanked them and that’s when my attention turned to Freddie.

“Hello (y/n)…..I…..there’s nothing that I could say to ever make up for all that has happened between us this past year. You were right, Paul was a leech and I….” Freddie began to explain as I slowly walked down the rest of the stairs before I finally reached him, “I’ve missed so much of your life that I promised I would be there for and I can understand if you never forgive me or….”

I held out my hand up telling him to stop talking. Now you would think that I would slap him once again if not give him hell for what he did to not only me but the boys as well. What Freddie said to me was unforgiveable and normally I wouldn’t take it lying down, especially at this point.

Silence rang throughout the entire stadium, you could almost cut the tension with a knife as I kept my hand up.

But I wrapped it around his neck as well as my other one as I brought him in a hug and whimpered out.

“I’m just happy to have my Freddie back.” I felt Freddie relax under my embrace and felt his arms go around my waist. I felt tears fall into my neck as I was gently picked up and gently spun around a couple times before being set down.

Freddie and I separated from each other but keeping our hands on each other’s shoulders, tears in each of our eyes as he said.

“Oh my little Rock Angel, let me look at you.” He took a good long look at me and he continued, “Oh darling, the stars nor the sun can outshine you right now. You are positively radiant.”

“You look great yourself Fred, much more like yourself again.” I said. There was a slight flicker in his eyes for a split second as he said.

“Yes, and I’ve never felt grander than I am right now. So when does our little Rock Angel perform?”

“I go on right after Phil and Sting.”

“Would you also be willing to listen to a bunch of aging queens try to play together again?” he asked. I turned back towards the rest of the boys and they all looked at me hopefully.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Let’s get to work boys. We’ve got a lot of practicing to do.” I stated with a proud smile.

Time was of the essence and in just two days it was finally time.

The crowd of 100,000 people were piling in, hundreds of crew members were running around getting the stage set up, cameras were rolling, sound checks were made and I was currently in my trailer getting into my performance mind set as Jack was strumming on the guitar.

Instead of my usual Rock Angel attire of the black leather jacket and jeans, I was now wearing a basic black maternity spaghetti strap shirt, blue jeans and a long cream lace mesh long kimono as well open toed, high-heeled brown boots that went up to just my ankles

Soon a knock was heard at my trailer door and an assistant came in and said.

“Mrs. Kline, it’s time.” I turned to Jack and he nodded and the two of us left my trailer and we followed the assistant to the stage. As I walked up toward the stage, I saw my boys standing right in the wings.

“Good luck love.” Whispered Deacy.

“You both got this.” Roger said.

“We’ll be right here watching every minute” said Brian.

“Shine like the Rock Angel I know you are, my little darling” Freddie said. I thanked them and waited behind the curtain as the announcer announced my introduction.

“And now straight from the Rock Gods above, give it up for the Rock Angel herself. (Y/n) Kline!” then 100,000 people screamed loudly as the curtains were drawn away and the cameras faced me and Jack and I stepped out on stage together.

We gave each other a kiss and I walked up to the mic as Jack got himself plugged in and warmed up, we began my time slot. The following songs I had decided to sing were.

Shallow (after so much debate, Jack sang with me)

As the crowd applauded me and Jack as we kissed each other once again for the camera and he put down the acoustic and grabbed a bass as my next song began.

So good

I grabbed a tambourine and gave it a little rattle before giving it a couple of slaps to my palm as i said.

“You all wanna know about a dirty ol city girl I know about?“ The crowd roared with applause as i cackled into the mic before crying out, “1 2 3 4!“ The drummer immediately came in and I came in with the song “Who I am.“ Slamming the tambourine to the beat against my hip.

The guitar coming in after I sang the first verse and as I got to the chorus, I could see people jumping up and down singing along to the song holding up signs with my stage name.

Who I am

“Alright! You all having fun?“ The crowd cheered. “Oh c’mon that was pathetic. I said are you having fun Wembley!?“ The cheers got louder and I grinned. “Who wants to go for a trip around the world?“ The crowd all roared out in excitement and I turned to the guitar player and nodded to him and he began my next song which made everyone cheer.

Rock the World

As the crowd cheered I exhaled heavily. Whoo performing five months pregnant was harder than usual. I walked across the stage and one of the volunteers helped me sit down at the piano and i gave it a couple of tune ups for my last song. I adjusted the mic and said.

“This last song goes out to everyone of who is contributing to this amazing event. Not just to the performers and hundreds and thousands of volunteers here. But to all of you watching and contributing to this organization.” The crowd applauded and I even saw some of the volunteers clap as well. “I know the world isn’t a perfect place, but it’s thanks to people like you who help make it better, and.....” I placed my hand over my stomach and said into the mic again, “And help it for the next generation of little ones.”

I cleared my throat and drank a cup of water that stood by the piano and I said into the mic.

“This song is not only about making the world a better place, but forgiving those who have done us wrong,“ I looked behind me and I could see the guys in the wings standing there looking at me, I locked my eyes with Freddie as I continued, “And mending the bond we once had.“ I turned back around and began playing my last song, the song that Jack got to see me film a music video for.

I kept at the piano up until the acoustic break. I stood up and was handed a spare mic by a volunteer and played a couple more notes on the piano before walking center stage and as the song picked up for the final time, I raised my right hand in the air and swayed it from left to right and soon I saw everyone’s hands or signs going in the air, swaying like banners in the wind.

Bridge of Light

*3rd Person POV*

As (y/n) now came onto the stage and had over 100,000 people including some of the volunteers, and Miami who was up at the sound controls sway their hands in the air by the last chorus watching his intern turned superstar with tears of pride in his eyes.

But of course none were more proud of her, than the four boys of Queen. John Deacon with a hand over his heart and tears in his eyes watched with pride at his little sister sing her heart out and much like Freddie own the stage like it was hers.

Brian May and Roger Taylor who couldn’t wipe the wide smiles on their faces with tears in their eyes as they softly sung along with the girl who was like a daughter to them.

And then there was Freddie Mercury. The one who first heard the voice of this lovely angel just short of five years ago. He who taught her everything on how to be a performer and seeing her now on probably the biggest stage and performance she could have in her young life, it was like he wasn’t even looking at the shy college girl turned singer.

She had become a true angel. And he couldn’t be more proud of her than this very moment.

*My POV*

At the end of my time slot, the entire crowd was cheering and applauding and chanting out “ANGEL! ANGEL! ANGEL!” Tears in my eyes I felt Jack wrap his arms around me and kissed me one last time before the camera and the crowd which enticed more cheers. We took our final bows interlocking hands with each other before leaving the stage.

As we walked across the stage back to my trailer, I could hear the sound of claps and volunteers and other performers telling me I did amazing out there. But soon there were four voices who stood out to me.

It was my boys.

“Ahh Brava! Brava Klines!” Freddie praised.

“Oh darling you both were fantastic out there!” Brian said as he was the first one to come up and hug me.

“Thanks Bri.” I said as we separated.

“You were glowing on that stage love, I’m so proud of you.” Roger said as he hugged me next.

“You were a true star up on that stage. You too Jack, you’ve made me proud.” John said as he hugged me and then moved to Jack placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks Deacy” Jack thanked him. The two of them hugged and that’s when I heard an unfamiliar Irish accent say.

“I can now see why Freddie spoke so highly of you.” I turned to see a man standing alongside Mary and her new husband David. This man had the same style of tache as Freddie did, he was a bit plump but unlike Paul he had a more kinder aurora about him.

“(Y/n) this is Jim Hutton, Jim and I are, well…..” Freddie took Jim’s hand and I knew right away what Freddie meant. I smiled and held out my hand and said.

“Nice to meet you Jim, maybe after the show the four of us could get some coffee later. I’d really like to get to know you more.”

“You as well, and that husband of yours. Freddie’s told me nothing but how you two were meant for each other, and I can already see you both look incredibly happy, and are expecting I assume?”

“Yeah our first child actually.” Jack said as he wrapped his arms around my bump.

“Well congratulations to you both.” He said with a soft smile. We thanked him and soon more performers went up to perform until finally it was the boys turn.

As the boys now got ready I stood with Jack, Mary, David, and Jim.

“Knock ‘em dead, my boys” I said with a smile and gave them each a kiss for luck. Freddie got himself pumped up and then my boys raced out onto the stage. Roger on the drums, Brian with his guitar, Deacy taking the bass and Fred sat down at the piano.

After warming up their instruments, Freddie played the opening notes of “Bohemian Rhapsody” which had the crowd going crazy and as Freddie began to sing, the crowd joined in singing. As I was in the wings, Jack’s arms around me as we gently swayed side to side I softly sang the song along with Freddie, so happy to see my boys playing together again.

Right after Brian’s guitar solo, the song transitioned to Roger’s song “Radio Gaga”. Freddie got up from the piano and as usual, he owned the stage like it was his and had the audience engaged as he pranced around the stage and began to sing.

This one more upbeat had me tapping my foot and at the chorus, over 100,000 people had their hands raised and clapped along as they sang along. I even felt a light kick in rhythm at the times of the claps. I jolted and held Jack’s hands to my bump and I knew he could feel the kicks. We smiled at each other widely and kissed each other.

After Radio Gaga Freddie gave the crowd a well earned “Ay-oh” vocal callback. Hearing him either stretch out the note or do a quick nip and having the audience sing it back to him had me smiling widely and shaking my head as I muttered playfully.

“Show off.” Jack chuckled and rocked me back and forth as now “Hammer to fall” started playing.

The two of us bobbed our heads to the rhythm. The crowd singing the song along with Freddie and at the end everyone was cheering hysterically. I clapped from the wings along with everyone else and just when I was expecting another Queen song to come up, something else happened.

Roger began pounding on the drums in a single beat, a beat that was familiar to me. Oh my god, they weren’t…..

I thought they were gonna do “Crazy little thing called love” next.

Soon the audience was clapping and I heard Freddie say into the microphone to the beats of the drum.

“An-gel! An-gel! An-gel!” Soon the crowd was chanting out my name once more and that’s when one of the assistants came to me and handed me a microphone. I turned to Jack and he smiled at me as did Mary, David and Jim.

I took the microphone and turned it on and began to sing as I walked towards the stage.

*Me (Queen)*

I followed my heart into the fire

Got burned, got broken down by desire

I tried, I tried but the smoke in my eyes

Left me blurry, blurry and blind

At that point I put the microphone in the mic stand and Freddie quickly tossed me a tambourine to which I caught with one hand and soon the crowd screamed hysterically as my first ever breakout song “Set it all free” began playing.

I picked all the pieces up off the ground

I’ve burned all my fingers but that’s gone now

Got the glue in my hands

I’m stickin’ to the plan

Stickin’ to the plan that says

“I can do anything at all”

I can do anything at all

Freddie nodded to me before going straight to the piano and soon it was like I was transported back in time to the very first time I played with Queen when they helped me make the song that made me the Rock Angel. All the while people in the crowd were jumping up and down and singing along with me. Holding up signs for both me and Queen.

This is my kiss goodbye

You can stand alone and watch me fly

‘Cause nothing’s keeping me down gonna let it all up

Come on and say right now, right now, right now

This is my big hello

'Cause I’m giving, never letting go

I can finally see, it’s not just a dream

When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free

(Oh oh oh)

I smiled as I kept the rhythm with my tambourine and soon took the mic off the stand and strutted as best I could across the stage as I walked up to Freddie and shared the mic with him as both our voices carried in a brief duet with each other. Foreheads touching each other’s as we gazed intensely into each other’s eyes grinning at each other.

I was a girl caught under your thumb

But my star’s gonna shine brighter than your sun

And I will reach so high (so high),

Shoot so far (shoot so far)

*Me and Fred*

(She’s) Gonna hit, gonna hit, hit every target

Make it count this time

I (She) will make it count this time

*Me*

This is my kiss goodbye

You can stand alone and watch me fly

'Cause nothing’s keeping me down

I’m gonna let it all out

Come on and say right now, right now, right now

This is my big hello

'Cause I’m here and never letting go

I can finally see,

It’s not just a dream

When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free (oh oh oh)

At the guitar solo that I had made myself, Brian picked up the solo and I was amazed that he had actually mastered the solo that once even made him quiver. I hollered into the mic as I stood by him and praised him calling out his name.

Finally the acapella section kicked in with Deacy lightly strumming on bass. I allowed the audience to sing the song and I was so happy to hear the audience sing my song right back to me, knowing each lyric word for word till I came back on the chorus.

*Crowd*

This is my kiss goodbye

You can stand alone and watch me fly

'Cause nothing’s keeping me down

I’m gonna let it all out

Come on and say right now, right now, right now

*Me*

This is my big "hello”

'Cause I’m here and never letting go

I can finally see,

It’s not just a dream

When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free (oh oh oh)

You set it all free

At the end of the song, there was a loud roar of applause. I smiled ecstatically as the boys all came up to me just like the first time I sang this song and quickly embraced me in a group hug before resuming their position.

Then Roger began doing the three part intro to “We Will rock you.” The audience clapped the first two times before the third clap was their hands going in the air. Figuring it’d be rude to just leave, I kept my spot next to Brian and Freddie came center stage as I slammed the tambourine against my hip as well as doing the stomp stomp and then clapping my hands with the tambourine in tack.

Soon Freddie began the first chorus and then allowed the crowd to sing the chorus a few times as Brian slowly came in about ready to do his guitar solo.

Freddie then went back to the piano and as per usual, especially in America, with following the song of “We will rock you” came “We are the Champions”. Fred took over the first verse as he played the piano.

*Freddie*

I've paid my dues Time after time I've done my sentence But committed no crime And bad mistakes I've made a few I've had my share of sand kicked in my face But I've come through

At the chorus, he stood up and much like with my last song as everyone sang along, waving their signs like banners and their hands swaying from side to side, Fred sang with such power and rawness, commanding the audience like a captain controls his vessel.

We are the champions, my friends And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end We are the champions We are the champions No time for losers 'Cause we are the champions of the world

It wasn’t until that by the end of the first chorus that as Freddie went back to the Piano, he then said into the mic.

“Take it my Rock Angel.“ The audience who agreed cheered loudly. I turned to Fred before nodding to him and began the next verse.

As I sung the verse though, to show my appreciation to the guys for everything they’ve done to me. One by one starting with Brian I touched his arm before leaning into him for a hug.

As I came up to Roger on the drum stand, I blew him a kiss and he acknowledged it by nodding and sending a wink my way. I then went up to Deacy and I leaned against him much like I did with Brian and he leaned his head on top of mine.

By the time I reached the ‘no bed of roses’ line I now stood behind Fred and wrapped an arm around his shoulders leaning as best as I could gently swaying him as I rested my chin on top of his head before giving my voice a vibrato at the last word.

*Me*

I've taken my bows And my curtain calls You brought me fame and fortune

And everything that goes with it I thank you all (*screams it into the mic and pointing out to the crowd*)

But it's been no bed of roses No pleasure cruise I consider it a challenge before the whole human race And I ain't gonna lose

As Roger banged on the drums and Fred now stood up, He took my free hand and he raised both our intertwined hands high in the air as we walked across to center stage.

He then held my hand out and as gently as I could, I spun around him, kinda like how a professional ballerina would as her partner holds her out as we both sung the second chorus before rejoining our hands together in a proud shake as we locked eyes with each other, our voices blending perfectly together just like before.

The two of us joined once again after all this time starting a new chapter and rebuilding the bond I thought was lost forever.

*Both*

We are the champions, my friends And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end We are the champions We are the champions No time for losers 'Cause we are the champions of the world

We are the champions, my friends And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end We are the champions We are the champions No time for losers 'Cause we are the champions

Freddie and I got into a silent argument of who would sing the last note. He wanted me to take it but I told him to take it, it went on back and forth between us until finally he gave in and took it.

*Freddie*

Of the World!

His hand raising high into the air.

Almost as if he were punching a hole in the sky.

I smiled and shook my tambourine all the while staring at my idol Freddie Mercury as he held that note for a beautiful long time, before blowing a kiss out to the audience. Roger, Deacy and Bri jamming out on the last note until they stopped and the crowd was louder than any sport stadium.

The boys came down and we all formed a line having our arms around each other’s backs or shoulders staring out into the audience.

And I’ll tell you; being surrounded by my boys once more before an audience and performing with them once again all five of us together, it felt like I was home again.

We waved to the audience before hugging each other on a job well done.

Freddie was the first one to leave the stage, followed by Deacy while Brian, Roger and I stayed for a brief moment staring out into the audience a little longer. They each wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around their backs and the three of us walked off the stage together.

Now backstage everyone was applauding us on a well-earned show.

“You were amazing out there, all five of you.” Mary said as she hugged each of us.

“Thanks Mary.” I said.

“You truly are the Rock Angel, especially when you perform alongside Freddie and the others.” Jim said.

“Much Appreciated, Jim.” I then turned to Jack and said. “Babe, what did you think?” He smirked at me as he came up to me and wrapped his arms around me and bent me over in a light dip before capturing my lips with his.

I smiled in the kiss as he quickly brought me back right side up but kept his lips right on mine as our kiss became more passionate. Once we finally separated he said.

“You were a rock star, I’m so lucky and proud to call you my wife. And I know our baby’s gonna feel the same to call you their mom.” He bent down and kissed my stomach as I brushed through his hair. Soon it began an all-out group hug.

Live Aid had successfully gone over their goal to help with the hunger relief, but it truly did not go above and beyond until both Queen and (y/n) Kline the Rock Angel sang individually.

But when they performed together, the donations went over 2 million pounds breaking the all-time record that the BBC had ever done for a charity event.

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bamxxvillexx66 · 5 years

Text

Make it right (This was requested by @jonationality)

Every night since the Garden incident with Enzo and Big Cass, Marty has been tossing and turning from a nightmare that didn't seem real at first but only got worst as the months went on. The nightmare would start off the same everytime: Marty is at the top of the ladder reaching out for the Ring Of Honor World Heavyweight championship that hung above him. Right as his finger tips graze the gold lining of the strap, Enzo and Cass are fighting everyone from both company rosters below him. Somewhere in the shuffle, Brody can be seen yelling at Marty to hurry up while there is still time left. Just like the real thing, Marty turns to look up at the belt to only to be greeted by Matt Taven punching him in his face.

In slow motion Marty falls down like Mufasa trying to reach out to the ladder and the belt but visual of both fade as he is swallowed whole by the briar patch. Voices of Tama yelling backstage about how the ROH tag belts ain't worth shit, Okada yelling at how disrespectful Americans are is being translated by a translator, Briscoes and Bully Ray asking how the hell wwe rejects was allowed into the building. As the fall almost came to an end, familiar faces showed up saying to each other in a visible whisper "How could he stay?" "He should have came with us." "His time was now and now it's never."

When Marty finally hit the ring mat from his long fall, he laid there sobbing at everything that was true. Since that event, tensions with both companies had been strained severely. Marty sent the talent bookings office text messages and even gave them phone calls about the next time he can come; he got the same soft response that wasn't rude but clearly wasn't pleasant. "Oh Marty-san we would love to have you come back but right now, but we only have room for you in the BOSJ tournament. If anything should happen to anyone or if a spot so happily opened up; we will call you asap." "You're talented and your time will come but right now your purpose is higher than this match young Martin." A voice that was angelic like rang from above as Marty woke up in a cold sweat. He ran his fingers through his semi wet hair and thought about who could that voice be.

As the new year was approaching fast, a lot of contracts signings was happening and Marty was next in line to see Mr. ROH who told Marty to show up dressing shap. As confused Marty was about this request, he wasted no time putting on his finest suit that can make anyone come out of their clothes on. A few spritz of his favorite date night cologne was definitely enough for him to seal the deal for when he was planning on negotiating the terms of his new contract. Marty looked himself over in the mirror and smiled as he can feel that today was going to be the best day for the rest of his life. "Knock 'em dead tiger." Brody said looking at his tag partner from across the room. Marty blushed at the comment and proceeded to head for Mr. ROH's office. Even though Marty had a feeling things was going to work in his favor, his nerves started up.

Two light knocked ran across the door as Mr. ROH placed a copy of Marty's new contract down on his desk. "Come in" "You wanted to see me, sir?" Marty said slowly walking into the room. Mr. ROH's face lit up as he saw Marty looking snazzy. "Sit me boy, we have lots to discuss." For 25 mins, Mr ROH read Marty all of his perks to his new contract and then slowly brought his ending statement around to the idea of Marty being the global ambassador of ROH. At first the idea scared Marty as he knew that NJPW wasn't taking any calls from anyone affiliated with ROH, but then again he was given a role of power which could make NJPW see ROH has fixed their issues. "Now all you got to do is sign the contract and you will be on the first flight out to Japan, ready to have a meeting with Mr. NJPW." "Why not, what the hell" Marty said grabbing the pen off the table and signed his government name.

The next 24 hrs for Marty was just like how Mr. ROH promised. Marty was on a flight straight to Japan. The kind words from his nightmare started to buzz around his head as he looked out the window. Hours later Marty landed in Japan and was greeted by Masa who was told about Marty's arrival by Mr. ROH. "Masa my old friend; it's good to see you" Marty said hugging Masa. "I miss you soo much Marti-chan!" Masa called a taxi and informed Marty that he will be accompanying him to the meeting as a sponsor and translator. The taxi dropped them off at the hotel and Masa lead Marty to his room that he already brought for him. "You rest up now and at 5:30 pm we will be having dinner with Mr. NJPW so you can discuss business." Masa said as he handed over the room key to Marty.

4:00 pm came and Marty was already dressed but was going over what he was going to say at dinner. His nerves was kicking in as he never personally delt with Mr. NJPW before; only Harold but he had left the company a few months ago. "So you're the new global ambassador for ROH?" Marty can hear Flip's voice echoing in his head. Flip wasn't mad at Marty as the position only seemed right for his older friend. Everyone backstage always told Marty that he was the sweetheart of the company after Bucks left. Dispite many bad management moves on ROH's part and Marty questioning his own fate, he still keep his emotions at check and treated everyone with respect. As reality came back to him, Marty tossed his cue cards and smiled at what he knew what will win the owner of NJ over.

Masa came and picked Marty up from the hotel and off they was to the local pepper pot place. The hostess lead both men to a table in the back. After 20 mins of waiting, the owner Mr. NJPW came joining the boys at the table with his translator. Masa placed the order for food and drinks. Marty couldn't take his eyes off of Mr. NJPW as this was his first time seeing him in person despite being in NJPW for so long. He looked just like the lion mark that greeted him everytime he had a match in Japan. "Masa thank you for bring Marti-chan here and I relieve you of your duties." Mr. NJ's translator said. Masa asked for a to-go order and lefted the table. Marty was confused as to why Masa was asked to leave. Mr. NJPW looked at Marty up and down and started to speak to his translator. "He said he is glad that you came back to Japan and he would like to hear your sweet singing voice. The boys talk about the elite show that Kenny-san and the young bucks had and our favorite episodes are with you singing." The translator said to Marty's suprise. "Um thank you" Marty said unsure of what's happening. The translator told Mr. NJPW what Marty's response was and a warm smile came across his face. "Eat and drink up now and we will go to karaoke after dinner."

At Karaoke Marty and Mr. NJPW was hitting it off well as both men was tipsy. The translator was recording the whole thing watching both men sing silly pop songs. Mr. NJPW knew a few english songs and was cutting loose. Marty hadn't had this much fun in Japan since BOSJ. The translator helped both men out of the karaoke bar and into a taxi. Mr. NJPW was in no shape to go home to his family and Marty's hotel room seemed viable. Both men laughed and giggled uncontrollably as a pop song played over the radio. At the hotel, all 3 men was chatting about wrestling as they walked to the room. Marty unlocked the door and all 3 headed inside. The translator laid his boss down onto the Japanese silk coved bed. "I feel like ROH feels bad about Madison Square garden and our locker room ain't same without the boys." Marty said as he took off his suit clothes. The translator recited Marty's sentence back to Mr. NJPW as he then too agreed with what Marty said. Marty took off his translucent ray ban sunglasses and sat them on the night stand. His greenish grey eyes sparkling in the dim light as he layed his big ass head on the Japanese silk coved pillows. Mr. NJPW never lost his cold lion mark gaze. "Supercard of honor would be a perfect time for the return of NJ's finest wrestlers to duke it out with ROH's." The translator relayed Marty's heartfelt plead and then Mr. NJPW looked Marty into the pits of his soul which made Marty scared as to what his answer might be. "May ROH borrow your most finest wrestlers you have?" He said batting his eye lashes. Mr NJPW responded with a simple "Yes". Both men fell asleep and the translator laid down on the floor.

By mourning time, Marty woke up to a thick contract signed by Mr. NJPW and a note that read: "Had a great time last night and I see wrestling is in your blood. Please accept this renewal of NJPW's working contract as a token of our appreciation for you coming and making up amends with us." Marty jumped up and down in celebration as his charms woo'-ed the pants off Mr. NJPW.

Days later Marty arrived to Mr. ROH's office with the contract in hand as he smiled. "So is it done?" Mr. ROH asked in anticipation. "Yes it is" Marty handing over the contract. "See this is why I picked you!!" Mr. ROH said as his eyes glittered at the big lion mark that stood proudly on the cover page. "Now I leave all future bookings of all up coming ROH shows in your hands; especially Supercard of honor." Marty's face glowed as he thanked Mr. ROH for the opportunity to help the company in a trying time of need.

As Marty left the office his phone was buzzing with text messages from Mr. NJPW's translator. "Please come back to Japan asap because the boys in the locker room can't get enough of your karaoke video and the boss will like to offer your own karaoke set when you comeback." Marty smiled at the fact someone appreciated him for his angelic singing voice.

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rookieinbflat · 5 years

Text

Stowaways

AN: I feel much better about this short fic than my last one, so I hope you guys like it too!

Ethan x MC (Levin Stern)

WC: ~2000

Levin is asleep in the front seat of Ethan’s Jaguar, she’s not been sleeping well since the start of the second trimester of her pregnancy, often complaining of headaches, nausea and back pain. All very common for a woman of her age, height and weight carrying twins but nonetheless, Ethan feels completely and utterly helpless to do anything to ease her pain. He tries to ease the uncomfort as much as he can but there’s only so much raspberry sorbet and shoulder massages can do. Levin is grateful never the less, she knows how far out of his way he goes to please her, like going to the linen store to get a soft blanket and cushion to keep in his car for drives like this. The older doctor doesn’t mind it when she falls asleep in the car, he loves driving, it's cathartic for him. He would drive across the country if he could. He plays Clouds by Debussy on the car's speakers and though he is yet to find enough scientific journals to confirm the long term neural effects of classical prenatal music exposure, he’s sure it can't hurt.

They’re going to spend the weekend with Levin’s family in Fairhaven, she gets very homesick when she’s feeling ill and this week has been riddled with headaches and cramps. So he took the weekend off to spend it with her, even though she’s fully capable of driving and it’s still very safe, Ethan feels much more at ease when he accompanies her on trips like this. Her parents live on a small block of land only a few minutes drive out of Fairhaven, the land is lush and green and whenever they’re there, Levin and Ethan feel immensely at peace. The stress and weight of the hospital are not on their shoulders, they spend their days on the farm soaking up the sun or horseback riding, though Levin might have to wait a bit longer before she can get back in the saddle. Ethan loves it here, the smell of fresh cut grass is his favourite but it’s not something you smell often in Boston. Levin’s older siblings are spread across the world, so it’s only the four youngsters occupying the house but Isa has made sure that Levin’s room remains untouched, awaiting her next visit patiently. Ethan loves Levin’s teenage room, the decor is green and lush like a forest with stunning photos she’s taken from her global living adorning the walls, lit up by strings of fairy lights. He’d never imagined he’d love the look of a room like hers but that’s what it is: hers. Ethan feels like he’s taken a step inside her mind, the serene part of her brain, that dreams in the sound of crashing waves and foggy mornings, dew on the long grass and rain hitting the roof.

Ethan loves Levin the most when they’re here.

The drive to Fairhaven is without trouble or excitement when they arrive at the small hobby farm just outside of town, Ethan shakes Levin’s shoulder gently, surprised she wasn’t awoken by the bumpy trip down the dirt drive. Levin rubs her eyes and pulls on her scarf before stepping out of the car and as if on cue, the front door to the farmhouse blasts open and Isa and Edda run up to greet the pair. They’re about to attack Levin with affection until they stop just a couple of metres short, remembering the two extra guests, stowed away beneath layers of skin and cashmere.

“Woah, your belly is really big,” Isa has a look of awe across her face and Ethan chuckles, moving to tousle her hair. She has obviously dressed herself today as she sports a bright silver skirt with farm boots and a Batman shirt.

“Our little stowaways are getting pretty big aren’t they?” Isa wraps her hand in Ethan’s as he leads the Stern women back inside the house, where Levin’s mother is now standing by the door, holding the dogs from escaping out into the yard.

“It’s rude to call out someone’s weight you big dork,” Levin retorts to the ten-year-old who laughs softly watching Levin navigate the stairs going up to the porch with a careful pace, leaning back into her steps.

Edda pipes up beside her, she had the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes and anyone who’s ever seen them says so, “I think you look gorgeous Levy,” Edda is beautiful inside and out, she’s a soft, empathetic soul and a bit of a sad sack at times, but she levels out the craziness of the Stern clan. Levin squeezes her hand as she makes her way over to the door, her mum enveloping her in a warm hug, she smells like Christmas morning - cinnamon and nutmeg. She must be making cinnamon rolls.

“Oh my lord, Levin, look at you!” Kina exclaims and holds her daughter at arm's length, Levin will be the first of her children to give birth to twins, “How many weeks now?” She asks as she leads Levin into the warmth of the farmhouse.

“Twenty-six weeks, not long to go now,” Levin replies as she walks towards the kitchen, on the hunt for something - anything to eat. The pregnancy cravings have got her eating more now than when she stress ate her way through the medical entrance exams and the final season of True Blood. Levin plants herself on one of the cushioned stools surrounding the kitchen bench, pulling a banana from the fruit basket less Ethan throw a fit over her not meeting prenatal nutritional needs. “Actually, I was hoping you could come up to the city next weekend, Ethan is going away for a medical conference and I’ll need help setting up everything in the new house,” Levin asks Kina as she brews a pot of tea, Edda has disappeared but Isa remains faithfully and loyally attached to her sisters side.

“Can I come? I promise I’ll be the biggest help!” She looks up at Levin with puppy dog eyes.

Levin has already demolished the banana by now, “Gotta ask mum dorkface, she’s the one that’s got to deal with you,” She hands the banana peel to Isa who dutifully disposes of the scrap in the compost bin.

Ethan is leaning against the kitchen counter chucking to himself, Levin has Isa completely entranced, ready to go to war for her fearless older sister, no task is too big or small for Isa to show her unending adoration. He knows that Isa has the same effect on his Rookie, who just last week, cried when she heard that Isa had the flu and she couldn’t go and take care of her little sister.

“I’m sure we could find something for you to do at the new house, maybe you could help set up the nursery?” Kina replies and Isa squeals with excitement, scaring the dogs and every human within a five-mile radius.

Ethan helps Kina make lunch, roast chicken with all the accompaniments and they take it out to the dining room to serve everyone. Marti, who is sixteen now has come out of her room to socialise, she’s studying hard to get into sports medicine and the ACTs are coming up soon. Jos, Isa’s twin brother, only speaks in four-word sentences and doesn’t sit still for long, he’s got pretty intense ADHD and keeping his attention for more than five minutes is more challenging than anything Ethan has encountered in his medical career. They sit around the table and debate on what to do for the rest of the afternoon - Isa wants to play board games, Edda wants to play lawn bowls outside, Kina thinks they should all sit in the sunroom and paint. Levin’s mother is an amazing artist, using art as her therapy on a daily basis, more often since she quit smoking cigarettes last year.

They decide on board games on the porch, so that Edda and Jos can run around as much as they please when they finish up with lunch, Levin forgoes boardgames to nap on the hammock, its the comfiest she’s felt in days. Isa and Ethan set up a game of Scrabble and as the game progresses, he’s sure this kid will run the world one day. How the hell does she know the word ‘liaison’?

“Are you excited for the babies?”

Ethan puts down his next tiles then looks up towards Isa, “I’m extremely excited but I’m also a little nervous,” he tells her truthfully, “I didn’t grow up in a large family like you and Levin, I haven’t had much experience with babies,” it almost feels like he’s talking to Levin when they have conversations like this, it’s like she has managed to clone herself into a pocket-sized version of Levin, though this version is almost more sassy than the original.

“I think you’ll be a good dad and me and Edda and Marti will help you, we know all about babies,” she nods with strong assurance, “plus you’re a doctor so you’re super smart so you can be good with babies,” Ethan chuckles at this as he tallies up the new score.

“I know a lot of babies in theory but the practice is a new field for me, Isa, I can tell you how many fingers and toes they have right now, but I don’t know how to stop them from crying when they come out,”

A look of wonder crosses Isa’s soft brown eyes, “You know what they look like right now?” Ethan can tell she’s completely forgotten about the board game as she leans across the table, “You have to tell me.”

Ethan leans across the table now too, resting his weight on his elbows, “Well,” he begins, “they have a thin layer of hair over them called lanugo which keeps them warm and they can hear things fairly clearly now - they know how to cover their ears if there’s a loud sound out here in the environment. They also open their eyes soon and they’ve fingerprints now as well,” the more he goes through the specifics of the babies life in utero, the more Isa’s face lights up, Ethan can see the cogs in her brain turning, trying to figure out what they look like and what it all means.

By the time they begin to finish their conversation, it’s well into the afternoon and almost time for the kids to wash up before dinner, the Scrabble game is long forgotten. Levin wakes from her slumber on the hammock and makes her way over to where Ethan is sitting, gently perching herself on his lap.

“You know we still haven’t thought about baby names,” Levin muses, interrupting Ethan from the trail of kisses he’s laying along her soft shoulders and neck. They haven’t asked the obstetrician about the sex of the twins, they want it to be a surprise.

“Hm, I guess you’re right, I haven’t been thinking about the names I do like so much as the ones I don’t,” he tells her, pulling her long hair back so he can kiss more of her décolletage, “but for what it’s worth, I like the name, Allegra,” Levin ponders this.

“I love that, I think its a gorgeous name, I like the name Laurence for a boy, Laurie for short,” she is hoping for two boys but she knows a girl would please Isa the most.

“Like Little Women,” Ethan points out, one of Levin’s favourite childhood books, she still keeps a copy given to her by her great aunt on the bookshelf, its pages yellow with age. Ethan would be happy with any combination of boys or girls, he just can't wait for the next and possibly most challenging chapter of his life to start. They sit out on the deck for hours, talking until Levin is almost falling asleep again. He takes her into the bedroom, turns on the strings of fairy lights and tucks a sleeping Levin into bed before sliding in next to her, the room is calm and peaceful with the soft, white glow of the lights as he places a kiss on her hair, “I love you, Rookie,” he murmurs into her hair, she smells like peaches and vanilla, “and our little stowaways.”

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #choices open heart #oh #fluff #babies #love #edenbrook #dr ethan ramsey #play choices #fluff central #im not kidding #twins

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my14rk · 5 years

Text

Kelly K.R. Ross

February 2

Dear Greenpeace personnel, I am a very concerned 41-year old Canadian family man (yes, male, I can still distinguish), born in a small village in Saskatchewan and currently residing in Medicine Hat, Alberta. I would love to assist your organization in making the world a better place. I recently read a quote from Mr. Stewart that ‘oil in Alberta is unnecessary’ and something about ‘only clean energy’ (of course I am mildly paraphrasing but it was the gist of the CTV article). Now, I can tell you that I was angered by these comments. So, as Greenpeace has all the answers, I thought who better to contact other than the fine individuals of your organization. Now Issue # 1 is transportation: As almost everyone in Canada is not living in the GTA, what is the cleanest form of transportation that you could recommend for my family (which includes my wife, 2 teenage daughters, and the family dog)? Public transportation across the prairies (to visit family) is almost non-existent since the closure of Greyhound and STC (Saskatchewan Transport Company). Even when the bus lines were fully operational, 10 to 14-hour bus trips to get from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ were way too long and fares for the family were too expensive. I should also mention a normal drive time for a personal vehicle is approximately 6 hours. So, with public transportation out of the question, I need to own a vehicle. Please recommend a vehicle on the market that has no oil products in it. Maybe, if I can get personal on some level, what kinds of vehicles are most commonly owned by Greenpeace executives/employees? I only ask because as I read the news (and any other publication that posts the comments of individuals such as Keith Stewart), apparently Greenpeace has no use for oil and oil produced products, as they all pollute the earth. Climate change, you know. So, should I buy an electric car ... NO, I can’t. As a rational, reasonable thinking Canadian, I am aware that electric cars are full of ... NO, wait ... Almost COMPLETELY composed of, and manufactured with/by oil-based products. I guess electric cars are out too. Horseback? NO. Riding on horseback would get me into all kinds of trouble with the good people over at PETA and WWF. Don’t want them trying to shut me down. My best guess is that none of you folks over there own a personal vehicle. Well let me know which way to go on that one.

Issue # 2, food: Now I’m sure that no one from the world of Greenpeace buys that grubby food produced on and from farms across Canada. Those farmers use an abundant amount of diesel to produce every scrap and morsel of food that can be found in every grocery store across this great nation. I mean seriously, how is it that all Canadians can’t understand this simple truth. Milk, bread, meat, vegetables, etc. have all come from a farmer, who I can promise you, owns a tractor. Tractors burn a lot of fuel. If you were or are unaware of this revelation, I will guarantee these facts, as I was born and raised on a Canadian farm. ALL the food consumed from the store has come from a farm somewhere. Then to top it off, those grocers have everything packaged one way or another to keep food fresh and sanitary (God knows we can’t have someone else’s germs on our food). Again, oil issues, all that packaging (to keep the food safe) is made with and by oil products. Honestly, it feels like I can’t win. So, like activists, I have a garden for all our food. However; protein (you know, meat) is a real issue. City bylaws say I’m not allowed a pig (for pork products such as bacon and such), or a cow (steaks). I can have five chickens. I guess those teenage girls I mentioned earlier are going on a diet. I am very concerned for the well-being of people living in apartments (where gardens are impossible). By the way, where do you get all your food from?

Issue # 3, heating: This is a touchy subject. How would a man as intelligent as Keith Stewart and other lead activists heat their homes? Now I am somewhat intelligent as I only have a Grade 12 education from a small prairie high school (not big city educated), but I can’t figure this one out for two reasons. Natural gas ... I don’t think so! Pollution! That clean burning gas from the ground is still produced by Big Oil (we hate those guys). I was going to switch to coal but, carbon tax (pollution, again). Wood burning is not the way to heat our homes, it’s soon going to be illegal to cut down trees (emissions, again). Solar energy, well, that doesn’t stand a chance in Canada. Geothermal would almost be the way to go if it didn’t require drilling and glycol-based fluids. I don’t need to tell you folks the ecological effects that a glycol spill has on the environment and animals. Wind turbines would be almost effective if they weren’t so expensive to set up and not to mention the amount of poor birds that would die as a result. PETA, again, would not be pleased. So, please help, I currently have no way to heat my home that isn’t a pollution issue.

Issue # 4, electronics: As we all hate Big Oil, we must destroy all electronic devices. No computers, phones, tablets, etc. If it has a computer chip, a plastic-coated wire, a power cord, I mean if even one component of any device/machine contains oil and/or oil by-products, it must be destroyed. Big Oil is not going to keep you and me from our dream of a better planet. No more electronics ... I can’t write this letter, businesses everywhere can’t operate, you can’t get your points across. Maybe we need oil? What do you think?

If we (as a country) are not going to produce oil, whom/where does Mr. Stewart want us to buy it from - as I think we have established that it is currently a requirement in every Canadian household including yours? The obvious answer must be the Saudi’s, America or maybe Venezuela (all environmentally-conscious places, right ...?). Which does leave me curious, if all our oil is imported, does the carbon tax go up or down? Maybe imported oil is carbon free? The Liberal government would have Canadians believe that the carbon tax will stop global warming. You men and women are smarter than that, right? I’d like to think that as Canadians we should support Canadian oil as it is one of the most regulated oil producing countries on the planet.

Is everyone at Greenpeace living in a time warp? Are you all individuals who are living off the land, being 100 percent self-sufficient? If you are, you wouldn’t be able to read this email. However, we both know that you have the ability to do so, which means Greenpeace is also on the Big Oil wagon. Please don’t be ashamed. Just own it. Stop preaching to the masses. When your organization and personnel are willing to walk your own talk, then I guess we’ll have something to discuss. Are you so blinded by tofu farting hippies that you can’t see the plain truth? Let us all be honest, organizations such as yours and the ones like it are not willing to make the hard sacrifices to accomplish any real change. Like almost every lobbyist group, you’d prefer to bitch and whine about everything until the donations stop coming in and then move on until the next money-making issue swings around. Granted; Greenpeace started with admirable beginnings, but like all good ideas, it always ends up about the money. Or am I way off base?

I do expect a response, for if I don’t get one ... you’re going to find this letter on every news feed and publication that will print it. I will send it to Ottawa (not a threat with the current ‘leadership’, but the Conservatives might listen). I’ll post it on every social media outlet I can sign up for and people will read it. I know that the loudest voice is the one the public hears the best. By now you must understand that you can’t be the only voice for people to listen to.

Sincerely

Leon W.

As you may have guessed, there has been no response from Greenpeace, so, here we go.

If you agree with my thoughts, please feel free to discuss, forward, share, post, etc. We can no longer sit back and let others be the only voice that the public, activists, government, etc. are listening to you. I think that with our oil built electronics, we must circulate this letter. Let's get people talking. Thanks for your help.

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greenjudy · 6 years

Text

and now for something completely different

Under the cut is a long (long), rough-draft excerpt from The Orchid Keeper, one of my Belltower novels-in-progress. For some unknown reason I feel moved to post this today.

It’s the future.

The narrator is Nathan Findzeit, fabulist, Operator, and dirty-tricks-facilitator for the global conglomerate, Belltower Industries. Eric Rehm (the orchid keeper referenced in the title) comes from Belltower’s Ethics Division. Three years ago, he was assigned to conduct an internal audit of Nathan’s division--an almost unprecedented occurrence, considering how much of Belltower’s dirty laundry is sitting in that hamper.

Over time, Eric and Nathan have gradually come to appreciate one another. At the same time, they’ve learned that they are both pawns in an unimaginably complex power-play by the shadowy Arthur Cheergathers, Eric’s unofficial supervisor in Ethics.

See what you think of this. Heads up, it’s not explicit, but it’s a little on the steamy side.

[author’s note: Findzeit is out of sorts in this excerpt; an unknown party, for an unknown reason, has given him a low dose of Teluno, a drug that will figure prominently later in the story.]

Eric’s apartment

[I’m thinking 2412 Webster St kind of on the border between Pacific Heights and Cow Hollow, right next to Bromley Place. This area is awfully affluent, but Eric is a Belltower minion.]

It’s a short walk from wherever the train let us off to Eric’s place. We take a shortcut, a flight of stairs that passes beside, and at one point through, a sequence of tiny and smartly landscaped backyards full of topiary and herb knots and bird baths.

I steady myself on Eric as we walk.

“I can’t believe you can afford to live here,” I complain.

“It’s not mine,” Eric says. “It’s Belltower’s. It came with the job.” I stare at him.

“OK, you are rent-free in Pacific Heights? That is extra unfair.”

“It’s a place to live,” he says, shrugging. “If I were paying, I could never afford this.”

“If you were paying, where would you live?”

“SOMA,” Eric says promptly. “Studio walkup with no street parking.”

“Keeping it real,” I say, eyebrows up.

Eric unlocks his door with a jingle of keys.

I have never been here before; not when I was awake. I find myself touching the doorjamb, brushing my fingers against the stucco’ed wall, and when I take my coat off and put it on the hook in the hallway, I have to lean against it and breathe for a second, just to remind myself that I am really there.

“You okay? Still feeling loopy?”

I guess I am. I guess I am still feeling loopy.

Eric gets an arm around my shoulders and eases me into an armchair. It’s a soft dusty dark green; the nubby texture stands out against my fingers.

“Just sit here,” he says. “Idrik said it would wear off soon.”

“It’s warm in here,” I say, surprised.

“Space heater,” Eric answers. I see it, finally, bars glowing orange, leaving tracers when I turn my head.

“I hope you didn’t give up on the fireplace. Were you finally able to get a chimney sweep to clean out your flue?”

“You want…you want a fire?” Eric says, hands full with a tray that he sets on the coffee table. “I could make a fire.”

“Is that tea?”

“It’s tea. Nothing in it, though. It’s just lemongrass. I don’t know what this is, Idrik doesn’t really know what this is, just—“

“No, it’s okay, you’re right, I’m stoned out of my mind on something and we don’t know what it is. It’s the right time for lemongrass. It’s a wise choice.”

Eric pours tea into chunky white mugs. They look like they belong in a men’s boarding house from the early twentieth century, or like they should contain shaving cream.

“Let me know about that fire.”

“If you want to make a fire,” I say, “I won’t stop you. Won’t help you, either…sorry about that.”

I turn my head to gaze at Eric—my head weighs a thousand pounds—and I see a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re an Operator,” he says. “You’re not supposed to get nailed by unknown substances in your drink.” I open my eyes wide.

“Did…did you just roofie me, Eric? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“No,” he says, stretching a mug out to me, “but looks like Idrik might’ve. He have a thing for paralyzed Operators?”

“I have no idea,” I tell him, taking the mug very, very carefully. “If he does, that opens up a whole new dimension of Idrik’s personality for me.”

Eric steps around the coffee table, slides open the mesh curtain in front of his fireplace, and stacks pine logs in an irregular pyramid. He’s got little bundles of rolled-up offprints for kindling in a basket on the hearth; he pushes them between the logs.

I hear the snap of the match and smell the sulfur before I see the flame it starts. He crouches, his back to me, poker in his hand, until he’s satisfied the fire’s taken hold.

“I have to say, I’m not crazy about the idea of you and Idrik,” he says then, stunning me.

“No?”

“No, he’s not who I’d pick for you.”

“What’s wrong with Idrik? Nice, upstanding young man…”

Eric shakes his head and sets the poker back in its stand.

“Nah, wrong guy. Entirely wrong.”

“Tell me who you’d pick,” I whisper.

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “I don’t give up my intel so easily.”

I tip my head back against the chair, looking at him steadily.

“Eric,” I say, my voice wondrously even, “if this stuff doesn’t wear off right away, can I stay?”

He stands over me, cradling his mug in both hands, head tilted a little bit to one side.

“I could stick you in the office with my orchids,” he says, considering. “Kind of push you under the desk and fold you up. You look like you’d fold up okay.”

“I travel really well, too. I can fit in the overhead compartment.”

“But you won’t like my bathroom. The bathtub is full of plants.”

“Why?”

“Because the light is nice. There’s a south-facing window and a skylight.” I close my eyes, visualizing a bathtub full of brave orchids.

“I dreamed of being here,” I tell Eric. I don’t open my eyes, so I have no idea what his face is doing, but I hear him make a perplexed sound.

“You dreamed of being here. In a company-owned one-bedroom in Pacific Heights?”

“I dreamed of your apartment. Many times.”

I hear him slurp his tea, and curse softly.

“Too hot?” I ask.

“Burned my mouth.”

“Ouch,” I say. “Don’t do that. Your mouth deserves better.”

Eric doesn’t answer this, and we drink tea quietly together for a while.

“Did it look like this?”

“Did what look like this?”

“You said you dreamed about my apartment.”

“No,” I say, “it was…it was a dream apartment. Everything was…oh, but you know, the fireplace was in the same place. But you had this white drawing table and it backed up against a window and you could see bricks out the window…” Some quality of Eric’s silence has changed. I open my eyes. He’s staring at me, mug inches from his lips.

“There was blue paint on the desk,” I said. “You know, big, flat white surface, full of plants—but it had a smear of cobalt blue paint on it, kind of impasto? You could feel it with your fingers.”

“What was the kitchen like?” he asks.

“I don’t know that I went in there, really. Seemed kind of—“

“Dark and cavelike,” Eric says. “Actually all the windows looked out on brick buildings. But they faced south, so I—“

“—you kept the orchids on the drawing table, where they could get a little light—“

“—because sometimes it would bounce off the buildings on that side, in the morning…”

“I watered those orchids. When you were traveling. Not too much,” I add hastily. “I know about root rot. I promise I paid attention to the drainage. It just seemed like you were never there, you know? I assumed you were traveling or something.”

Eric reaches out and brushes my cheekbone with his fingers. His hand is shaking almost imperceptibly.

“That was my apartment in Chicago you were dreaming of,” he says. “You should have left a note.”

“I dream about that place every couple of weeks, Eric.”

“That often?”

“Maybe more often.”

“Why?”

Moving like a cargo ship trying to navigate a tiny lock, I set my mug down on the coffee table, and sit back, watching Eric, utterly at a loss for words.

“Nathan,” he asks, his voice gaining urgency, “why are you dreaming about me?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Pretty much since you arrived, though. I think…I think I wanted to talk to you. At first, remember, you never stuck around—you’d grill the snot out of me and you’d snap your briefcase closed and put on that mind-blowing leather jacket and head out into the fog, and I wanted—I wanted to know where you were going.”

“It should have been easy enough to find out. Belltower put me in this apartment,” Eric says, “all the details must be in my file. Haven’t you looked at my file?”

I just hold his gaze as best I can.

“No,” I say. “They gave me—they gave me a dossier.”

Eric perches on the arm of the chair.

“And you never looked at it? Are you insane? I know you’re supposed to be spying on me.”

“I knew stuff,” I say. “You know the Division is a gossip cesspool. I heard stuff I couldn’t un-hear. Eckbo…Eckbo probably knows a lot.”

“You’re supposed to be spying on me,” Eric says again, bewildered. “Nathan, I read your file.”

“That’s your job, to read my file,” I say. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I have lots of files Belltower probably doesn’t even have. You could read those if you want. Should I get them? They’re in a storage locker out in Fremont.”

“You never even tailed me?”

“I tailed you,” I say, “I tailed you plenty, just never here. Never home.”

“What kind of Operator are you?” Eric asks, his voice cracking a little.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Honestly. I don’t know. I dream…Eric, I dream a lot. I dreamed stuff about Moontown before it happened. I dreamed about the Specials. And you. I really, really wanted to talk to you.”

Eric bows his head. I feel his hip and thigh against the side of my body.

“Are you still feeling woozy?” he says in a low voice.

“Weak as a kitten,” I say, mouth dry.

“I think you’d better stay,” Eric says, “and talk to me, since you want it so badly.”

—

We’re sitting side by side on Eric’s couch. I have no idea what time it is anymore. Eric keeps making green tea, but I notice that he’s started drinking scotch.

“It’s not fair,” he explained. “You’re not in your right mind, why should I be sober?”

I lift and study the bottle.

“This looks good,” I tell him.

“It is good.”

“So you’re one of those guys,” I say, “who eats macaroni and cheese from a box and drinks twenty-year-old single malt scotch?”

“I eat all kinds of things,” Eric says. “I just don’t cook much. Never really learned.”

“You mentioned that before. Living in Chicago on, what? Chewing gum or something?” He smiles into his glass.

“Let’s see. There were only a few basic things. Instant oatmeal—“

“What flavor?”

“Maple,” he says.

“That’s good,” I say seriously. “I’ve never held with fruit-flavored oatmeal.”

“I’d eat any flavor they had, honestly, but I got maple when they had maple. I tried to stay away from the cranberries. But the yuzu one was all right.”

“The Pan-Asian Confederacy,” I decide, “has done interesting things to oatmeal.”

“Frozen burritos,” Eric resumes, musing. “Bad ones, the kind that comes in packs of two dozen. Instant ramen.”

“It’s a wonder you’re still here today.”

“Instant ramen’s not that bad for you,” Eric says. I lift an eyebrow.

“You don’t read labels, do you? It’s not that good for you, either. No vegetables? Nothing green?”

“I’d buy salad greens sometimes,” Eric says, turning his glass around in his hands. “Chicago’s not a great place for greens.”

“It’s a major world city,” I object, “with amazing shipping. Eric, where on earth do you come from?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“Where did you grow up? You didn’t just fall off a tree.”

Eric swallows scotch, looks down at his hands.

“Madison, Wisconsin,” he says.

“Jesus, so that’s what that vowel sound is.”

“What?”

“Something about the way you say ‘about.’” Eric gives me a prickly look. “It’s not—I notice accents,” I say, shrugging. “It’s a work thing. It’s not an especially noticeable accent, I kind of located you in the Midwest but you’re missing a lot of markers…”

“That’s on purpose,” he says shortly.

The fire crackles.

“Why did you work on your accent?”

“Why’d you work on yours?” he retorts.

“That’s an easy one,” I tell him. “I spent years learning how to talk like other people. I worked on getting rid of my regionalisms, then I went and got them back. I try to practice different leans, different inflections. It’s kind of like Tresca going to the gym or like Eckbo keeping his hand in by hacking San Francisco’s water board or something.”

“So you used to sound like a kid from New Jersey, and now,” he mutters, “you don’t sound like you come from anywhere. You don’t have a way of talking that’s natural to you.”

“You…” I say cautiously, “want to know what I’d sound like if I let my guard down, don’t you, Eric.”

“You’re very good,” he says, “at sounding like your guard is already down.”

I meet his eyes.

“I’m not a virgin, either,” I tell him. “I don’t have any virtue left to offer you. I’m--” I’m laughing a little-- “actually, I’m kind of sorry about that.”

Eric draws back from me, straightens up for a second.

“Can you not--that’s--don’t be ridiculous.”

I give him a grin, but I don’t feel it inside.

“Eric? Ridiculous is all I have left. I don’t get to be serious anymore. The truth is, I’m good with accents; it got weaponized. Anything we do well gets weaponized. I can’t bust out an authentic Nathan Findzeit accent for you anymore, Eric. All I can do is tell you the truth about that.”

I rub my face, and shake my head. Eric is watching me intently.

“I realize that I’ve erased a lot of markers that would let you know whether or not I’m being honest. You can’t even be sure I’m telling you the truth about whether or not I looked in your file.” I reach over and capture his hand in mine. “The worst part is that you and I both know I have instructions to be friendly, because friendly is one of my talents. It’s the number one finest way to extract intel: it produces the best results and the fewest unforeseen consequences. You have every right to wonder why I’ve become friends with you.”

I lift his hand to eye level.

“I admire you so much,” I tell him. “And I’ve given you a hell of a conundrum and now you’re obliged to make a determination based only on what I present to you. I’m a bullshit artist because it is my trade. But all you have to go on as to whether I can be trusted beyond my trade is your sense of me, Eric. Do…do you have a sense of me?”

“No,” he says, pulling his hand free and standing up. “I’m going to make more tea.” He sways a little on his feet, and I realize he’s killed almost a quarter of his bottle of scotch.

“Eric? Careful,” I say, “careful there.”

“I’m always careful,” he says, collecting the teapot.

“No,” I say, rising with him, “you’re not.” Gently I take the teapot from his hands. “I’ll take it in. Don’t think I can handle any more tea, at this point.” I’m wobbly, but I orient myself in space and successfully navigate the distance between the couch and the kitchen counter.

I lean there, for a second, watching him run his hands through his hair.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

“Sit down,” I tell him.

“What the hell are we doing?”

“We’re talking,” I say. “Talk to me. Come on. You promised.” I take his hand and walk him back to the couch. The fire’s gotten low. Eric twitches away from me again, skirts the coffee table, puts another log on. Crouched by the hearth, he says:

“We’re just going to talk forever?”

“Why not?” I ask.

His head drops for a second, and he looks up at me from under his brows.

“Where’ll it end, Nathan?” he says.

I arrange myself on the couch. I hope I look as harmless as I feel.

“I don’t know,” I tell him.

Amazingly, this answer seems to satisfy him. Slowly he gets to his feet, and when he sits back down, he’s put himself right beside me. I feel him along my entire right flank. He leans back into the cushions and closes his eyes. I put an experimental arm across the top of the couch, and he lets his head roll over onto my shoulder.

“That’s good,” I tell him.

“You feel good,” he says softly.

“Bless your heart, Eric,” I whisper.

“What else do you want to know?”

“Everything,” I tell him.

“Everything,” he says, “is a lot of stuff.”

“Tell me what happened in Chicago.”

Eric’s silent for a while. Then he says:

“It’s actually a pretty short story. I did my job, and then I was buried alive.”

“You broke up the Sinaloa Cartel.”

“Not quite,” Eric says wryly. “I dismantled their Belltower access. I didn’t kill them. I gave them heartburn.”

“Belltower should have pinned a medal on you.”

“Nathan,” Eric says, suddenly sounding very sober, “you have a fairly weird idea about our company.”

“What’s that?”

“You seem to think that outside the Division, Belltower Industries is a legitimate enterprise,” he says. I turn my head to look at him. He keeps talking. “You have this idea that wrongdoing is happening—in your division, where the spies are. In Queries, maybe. You’re wrong about that. Belltower is the Workflow Division, Nathan. It is its spies. The fact that Belltower employs you to do what you do means that Belltower is a corrupt entity. There is no clearer expression of this than me, and what I do for Ethics. I’m the fig-leaf. I’m not giving you cover, I’m giving them cover.”

“Eric,” I whisper.

“It’s all right,” he says. “You’d think I would have gotten hold of that after five years cooling my heels in the Evanston Regional Office with no one to talk to but my plants. But I had to audit you before I figured it out. Ethics is supposed to give Belltower a conduct parameter. Does it? You tell me.” His face is inches from mine.

“You do,” I say to him.

“I can’t,” he says. “That was the lesson I learned from Arthur this year.”

“You scare me, sometimes,” I say. “What are you going to do, and how do I keep you safe from harm while you do it?”

He looks startled. His grey eyes are widely dilated, scotch and low light, and who knows, maybe I have something to do with it. The idea makes my head spin.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he says. “I don’t care who runs Belltower, but if Arthur takes over, it could do things, take actions in the world…Belltower’s just a power structure, Nathan. It’s only pretending to have an ethos, a culture, a reason for being besides its own survival.”

“Sort of like me?” I whisper, for this is the heart of the matter. “Just pretending to feel things, to be human?”

His eyes study me for a long time.

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “I don’t think so.”

I close my eyes and drop my face against his hair.

—

“Has it worn off?” Eric whispers.

“I…I’m so tired, I can’t tell anymore…”

“Come on.”

Eric’s bed is all dark colors and flannel sheets. It’s unmade, a tumble of muted plaids.

“Not…not what I expected,” I tell him.

“What were you expecting? White sheets? Hospital corners?”

“No, it makes sense, the flannel. Gets really cold here.” I reach out to touch his sheets, and find myself caressing the blanket. “So glad you have a warm place to sleep.”

“You make me sound like a hobo.”

Eric has gone to his chest of drawers. I see him pluck out a t-shirt and a pair of sweats and toss them behind him, onto the bed. “Put those on.”

“What?”

“We’re just sleeping, don’t panic,” Eric says. “You enjoy sleeping in blue jeans? You can leave them on, I don’t care.” He’s already undressing, briskly, his back to me.

“We’re sleeping?” I say in wonder.

“I could have been mean,” Eric says, drawing his white undershirt over his head. He chucks it into the open closet; it misses the hamper, just, and slithers onto the carpet. “I could have left you out there, made you crash on the hardwood floor, let you wake up with your neck in knots.”

Moving like a guy in a dream, I unbutton my oyster-colored shirt. Eric, in underpants, holds a hand out to me impatiently.

“Shirt,” he says, so I give it to him, and he puts it on a wooden hanger. I peel off my jeans; he sets them on a hook on the closet door.

We stand there in our underwear until Eric says, “This is ridiculous,” and we both climb into bed, leaving t-shirt and sweats on top of the blanket.

“What,” I say, my teeth beginning to chatter, “what are we doing?”

“We’re sleeping, I just explained that,” Eric says.

“You’re almost naked,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” Eric says, “what does that make you?”

He pushes a pillow under my head.

“I’m very serious,” he says in a low voice. “Go to sleep now. We’ll talk more in the morning. Are you warm enough? Do I have to put sweatpants on you?”

I cannot, cannot answer anymore. I can’t accidentally touch his hand or lean beside him, casually absorbing his body heat; there’s no room here for that illusion. I am so exhausted that I can barely see, but I reach out one hand, let it rest on his upper arm.

Eric sighs.

“Come here,” he says at last.

“We’re sleeping,” I mumble. “We’re sleeping now.”

“Come and sleep here,” he answers.

Why not? It’s only been three years since he started auditing me and I started dreaming about him. It’s only been three years, my poor Operator’s heart in harness, doing my best to seduce him, doing my best not to seduce him. Three years in the wilderness, horribly and hopelessly in love.

He folds me against him.

“I thought your arms would get all over the place,” he whispers.

“No, I said this before, I’m quite packable.” I wedge my head in under his chin, and he sighs again. “We’re really going to sleep?”

“If I don’t,” he says, sounding apologetic, “I can’t answer for what I’ll be like tomorrow.”

“Fair cop,” I tell him. Then, because really, I’m just about certain this is a dream, I brush his collarbone with my lips. “Good night, then, Eric,” I whisper.

“Go to sleep.”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Go to sleep,” he says again, his hand in my hair.

“You’re talking to me, I can’t go to sleep.”

“Sleep,” he whispers. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

And somehow, in the cloud of flannel, with Eric’s arms around me and his lips against my ear, I do, finally, gradually, succumb to sleep.

When I wake up, I realize that somewhere in the night we had pulled apart with the instinctive wisdom of the exhausted; I have vague memories of hearing Eric snoring faintly and feeling his fingertips brush the small of my back as I turned over. Now I’m gazing into the deep blue-hued darkness of his bedroom, blankets pulled up to my chin, and as I remember where I am, I turn onto my side.

Eric, wide awake, propped on his elbow, like every guy in every story who’s ever virtuously refrained from having it on with his companion, is watching me, his grey eyes shadowy.

“Your bed rocks,” I say.

“Thank you.”

“Did you actually sleep?”

“Some.”

“I slept,” I say, feeling foolish.

“I know.”

“What time is it?”

“About ten-thirty.”

“It’s dark,” I say, puzzled.

“Look,” Eric says, and gestures at his window. He’s got blackout curtains.

“Ah,” I say, “I solved that problem at home by cleverly having a bedroom with no windows at all.”

“I know. It’s like a space capsule in there.”

I stare at him.

“You haven’t been in there,” I say, “in three years. You remember that?”

The look on his face is almost painfully amused.

“You think I’d forget sleeping in your bed?”

“You say stuff like that to me,” I tell him, my poor heart pounding, “and whatever prudent reserve we’re hanging onto here is going to go right out the window.”

“Oh god,” Eric murmurs, “we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t. We’ll compose ourselves and have breakfast or something.”

Neither of us moves. I can’t get myself to stop looking at his face.

“We could get cronuts,” he says finally.

“We could. That sounds exactly right. As long as we don’t lose it and start feeding each other, we should be fine.”

“Good point, I’ve been wanting to feed you,” he mutters.

“Really?”

“Ever since I watched Eckbo stick that muffin in your mouth—“ he says, and his cheeks suddenly go bright red.

“That was—you just said that? That was incredible.”

We get cronuts.

As it turns out, there is a bakery only about a dozen blocks from Eric’s place. I’m still feeling a little shaky on my feet, but not distressingly so. I borrow a clean shirt, splash water on my face, fetch my jacket, and wait for Eric in the living room while he pulls himself together. He looks worn out when he emerges from the bathroom, but he’s missing his signature frown lines. I inwardly high-five myself.

“I love that blue on you,” I tell him.

“I can’t—“ Eric throws his trench on with, perhaps, more force than necessary. “You have to stop saying stuff like that.”

He holds the door for me, and we step into the corridor.

“Why?” I ask.

“I don’t know what to say when you say things like that.”

“You said thank you when I complimented your bed,” I point out.

“That is clearly different,” he says. “That’s my bed. This is me.”

“I hate to break it to you, Eric, but your bed is you, too. In synecdoche.”

“In—in what?” We step into the street.

“Your bed says things about you, semiotically,” I explain.

“It says I sleep, like a human being. It says I get cold at night.”

“That too. But the dark colors, the plaids—“

“You’re psychoanalyzing my bed,” Eric says.

“Well, I could psychoanalyze your shirt,” I say, “but I don’t want to make you nervous.”

Eric stops on the corner and turns all the way around to look at me.

“You don’t want to make me nervous,” he chokes out.

We stare at each other, and the light changes while we stand there.

“I don’t, Eric,” I say. “I mean, I know that I do.” The wind, a little damp, picks up, blowing Eric’s hair across his forehead. Moving slowly, as if I were reaching out to defuse a bomb, I brush his hair back off his face.

“I can’t,” he whispers, “I need to eat.”

“Where are these cronuts, then?” I say, querulously. “You promised cronuts.”

“Nathan, Nathan—“ he turns away from me abruptly and crosses the street. I have long legs, though, and I catch up with him.

“What? Eric, what is it?”

“I don’t know if I can bear this.”

I rest my hand on the small of his back as we walk.

“You can do it,” I tell him. “I promise I’ll keep myself on the leash. I swear to God, Eric.”

“You’re so—“

We’ve reached the bakery. He holds the door for me again. I want to press him up against the glass, get my teeth into his lips.

“So what makes these cronuts special?” I ask, instead.

“The first in the City,” Eric replies. “They’ve been making cronuts here for a hundred years.” He’s not quite composed, but he orders for both of us, and gets us espresso shots to drink with our cronuts.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he growls, as we take our booty to a little white table in the corner that gets the best sun. “You’re thinking you need some kind of very sweet latte. Six sugars, right?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything. You’re not getting a latte. You’re getting a shot. The cronut’s sweet enough. The shot will help you wake up and you won’t crash as hard later.”

“A medicinal espresso shot,” I murmur. “Look, for you, I’ll drink it straight. I’ll do pretty much anything you tell me to, actually, Eric.”

“Shut up,” he says. “Eat your cronut. Drink your espresso.”

“As you wish,” I say. I bring the cup to my lips. It’s terrific espresso. I haven’t had it straight since I was in my twenties. Eric is tearing into his cronut. We lock eyes.

“You see?” I whisper. “You can tell me to do things, and I’ll do them. I’m good, Eric.”

“You are not good.”

“What am I, then?”

Eric downs his shot.

“Ridiculous. Terrifying. Everything I ever wanted.”

This reduces me to stunned silence. We eat our cronuts without saying much of anything else for a while. Eric really looks tired; his words seem to have drained the blood out of his cheeks. I can’t imagine what my face looks like.

“Is it good?” Eric asks finally.

“I can’t taste it,” I confess. “I have no idea what it tastes like.”

“Finish up,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Mutely, I eat my cronut; meekly, I follow him to the door.

We are sitting on the bed. The couch, at this point, seems like a formality we’ve dispensed with. I’m still wearing his shirt.

“Eric,” I say. He shakes his head.

“For the longest time,” he says quietly, “I was sure I couldn’t trust you. I was sure you were lying whenever you opened your mouth. You were Findzeit, professional liar; you were a fabulist. You said you were, and you were. You remember when you explained it to me that day? What you do?”

“I remember,” I say.

“How could I trust you? You were a friendly, gentle, tender, seductive liar. And how you treated me was part of your job. And then I kept working with you, and I started forgetting—“

“Eric—“

“Shut up,” he says fiercely. He puts his hands on my chest. “Shut up.” I can feel the slight tremor in his hands as he starts to unbutton my shirt.

“And then, after Moontown – I started to wonder if maybe you could lie and tell me the truth at the same time. You gave me access to everything. You put your life in my hands. I wondered if you—if you knew how much I wanted you. And the things you said—I couldn’t get you to shut up—“ he slides the shirt down my shoulders.

I don’t move a muscle. I don’t dare. I just look into his eyes and let him touch me.

He pushes the sleeves down to my wrists and lets his hands slip back up my naked arms.

“You kept saying things to me. You tell me you’re dreaming about my life. You say… you say these things about my shirts. Are they true? I have no way of knowing, Nathan. I want them to be true.” He rests one hand against my neck, pulling me towards him. “I decided to trust you. I’m trusting you, all right?”

I can’t speak. I slip my arms the rest of the way out of the shirt, and let him draw me in.

His mouth’s on mine. It’s never happened before. This is the first kiss.

His arms have gone around me and I can feel his tongue in my mouth and I’m holding on, as best I can, to my resolve not to push, not to overwhelm him, to let him, to allow him, to be there for whatever he wants or needs or cares to have.

“Kiss me back,” he whispers. “Stop fucking with my head and kiss me back, Nathan.”

I hear a sound like a sob—oh, that’s me, I’m almost crying—and I push him back into his pillows.

#greenjudy also writes original fiction #belltower excerpt

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