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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

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emmarzhere · 3 years

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3am AU time: Sanders Sides Swap!!

Once again I can’t sleep due to my brain insisting it’s much more important to write down these ideas for a Light and Dark side swap AU than sleep, so 3AM TUMBLR RAMBLE IT IS BABYYYY!!!

So I wanted to try using traits already existing in each character to make their inverses, rather than just swapping traits or completely changing the character’s core values, and these are my initial late night ideas:

(Note: I saved this as a draft and revisited it in the morning / afternoon to make sure it all actually made sense and to add to it with a fresh mind)

(Extra note: I accidentally lost all my additions and the entirety of Patton’s and Virgil’s descriptions by refreshing the page, so it’ll now be written out again in a less formatted way. DAMN YOU TUMBLRRRR!!!!!!)

Roman:

My initial reaction was to make Roman “Pride”, and extend on his egocentric nature (like what is done with many Dark!Roman interpretations), however five minutes of laying in bed thinking about it later I found a trait I felt fit him better: Delusion.

This Roman could still be very much “Netflix kids and family”, living and trying to make Thomas live in a fantasy land where everything is always fine and dandy. This insistence of only seeing things through his figurative or not so figurative rose tinted glasses makes this Roman very naive and hard to get through to, and while on the surface appears very appealing to Thomas (when they first meet Thomas doesn’t understand why Roman counts as a dark side) can be very dangerous if Thomas leans too much into his ways of escaping reality, aka making Thomas a delusional person. The best part of this choice of trait for Roman is that I can still tie in his ego; delusions can be fuel people’s egos, and also to protect them from harsh realities, hence why Delusional works as a role for Roman.

While normally I see Dark Side Roman designed to be an evil prince or king, I decided to go for a more glamorous look which I think fitted my version more: Roman would wear a pristine black and red suit consisting of a red waistcoat, tie and trousers, a black button up shirt and black or red heeled boots. I also wanted his design to link to the white peacock (a rare type caused by a genetic mutation), so I topped off the outfit with either a vintage white shawl or a Cruella style coat (leaning towards Cruella because we know Roman and Disney!) with white peacock feathers attached (still trying to decide if I want Roman to have decorated the feathers with red and black accents or not), and a pair of literal rose tinted glasses to hide his white peacock eyes - pale blue with a glassy look to them which always gives the impression that he is far away, even when he’s not.

Finally his sword is replaced with a grandiose black walking stick with silver details, along with the handle being a silver peacock head (note: possibly detachable from the cane to reveal a silver knife?). I chose this as weapons like these in fiction are often used to appear innocent, only to reveal a hidden depth of skill and character; a description which I think applies well to Delusional Roman.

Extra note: Delusional Roman gets snappy, angry, or even threatening when people try to break him out of or correct him on his delusional ways, though he will often try to slip deeper into his fantasies than actually deal with emotional confrontations.

Extra extra note: Roman is incredibly jealous of his brother as he can’t understand why he’s been accepted despite Roman being the one who creates such wonderfully perfect worlds for Thomas to escape off into! He’s also jealous of how his brother doesn’t care what others think of his work and doesn’t seek validation from the others, not that Roman would ever admit that he does either of those things.

Patton:

So the 3 main aspects of Patton I felt would work best for a Dark Side are his destructive selflessness, his overly strong morale compass and how he encompasses many of Thomas’ more negative feelings.

I couldn’t decide whether to officially label him as “Denial” or “Repression”, but either way he holds a similar role: he represses his / Thomas’ negative feelings, as well as tries to push Thomas to do the morally right thing (as he still represents Morality, just not as his main trait) which almost always is the selfless option. It’s almost impossible to convince this Patton that his viewpoint is not necessarily the correct choice (he’s in denial that he as Morality can ever be in the wrong), and he becomes hostile when his views are continuously challenged.

The light sides see Patton as the main holder and cause of Thomas’ negative feelings (eg. makes Thomas act selfless and do things for others until he’s burnt out and depressed), and when Thomas is feeling these negative feelings Patton experiences them but more strongly to the point where the others have to force him out of bed (usually Logan) and take care of him until he and Thomas get out of the depressive slump. However once he’s out he will deny that he was the problem and begin pushing Thomas down the self-destructive path again.

While this Patton will deny his depression and many negative feelings, he is still not as upbeat as Happy-Pappy-Pal-Canon-Patton, matching more with how the side acts in more serious moments such as at the end of SvS redux. He will smile and comfort others, but laughter and puns are rarely seen.

Another thing about this dark side Patton is that he is very manipulative (a trait shifted from Janus to Patton), even if he doesn’t believe himself to be. He uses his role as “morale compass” to invalidate other’s opinions if they clash with his, and often emotionally hurts the sides he gets close to by caring for them and performing selfless acts for them to show his love (eg. makes breakfast for the other Darks sides every morning, goes out of his way to learn more about their interests so that they can have someone to talk to them about) followed by him simplifying complex morale dilemmas in a way that makes it appear that his option is the only correct one, making the others feel bad about their differing viewpoints (a bit like how Roman felt invalidated and morally wrong throughout SvSR as his views didn’t line up with Patton’s).

This Patton wears a worn out pale blue shirt with a fraying black jumper over the top, leaving only the collar of the shirt visible. He has frog features too; with blots of green skin scattered all over his body, slightly webbed hands and he croaks! The splodges grow larger the more emotion Patton represses. He also really doesnt like his frog features as they don’t align with the perfect image of himself that Patton has in his head, so he tries to cover them up as much as possible with his black jumper, pale blue gloves (leather ones as he tried woollen ones and his frog skin made them go sticky) and baggy trousers, although there isn’t much he can do to hide the blots on his face or his brown frog eyes....

(He’s also constantly worn out as frog-pops has no clue what self-care even means)

Extra note: Patton goes through a sort of alternate character development to canon Patton, where as he begins to be accepted by some of the Light Sides and Thomas they discuss how he doesn’t just represent Thomas’ negative feelings, but all of his feelings; a lot of them are just also accidentally repressed alongside the “bad” feelings. As time goes on Patton becomes more cheerful and goofy, even dropping the occasional dad joke, although never quite to the levels of canon Patton.

Extra extra note: The happier this Patton is, the less faded the blues on his clothes become (much like Virgil’s eyeshadow), until at moments of peak happiness his gloves and shirt are canon Patton blue (eg. when Thomas is with Nico, or when Janus and Thomas first accepted him). Cute blue embroidered designs also form on his black jumper at peak happiness, such as butterflies, simple cats, pawprints and frogs.

Logan:

So Logan is the only side I have decided to leave with the same official trait title: Logic, although he also has the orange trait Anger within him. He will also be taking the place of Virgil as the Dark Side who is prematurely accepted.

However Logan here is still different from canon Logan: he represses and denies his emotions even more than canon due to the other dark sides attitudes towards him (Delusional Roman in particular does not appreciate the truth bombs and logical reasoning the calculator watch drops), leading to more angry outbursts / orange showing through. This makes Logan a horribly unstable side, with him appearing completely apathetic to any sort of feeling for an undetermined period of time until he next reaches his limit and has an explosion of rage - he holds both Logic and Anger/Orange in him here, but the anger shows through a lot more due to his circumstances.

His clothes are always shredded and falling apart due to him tearing them when he’s angry + the rage can come out like an explosion that wrecks everything in his surrounding area, including the clothes on him. He sticks to plain black t shirts and trousers to start with as he claims he doesn’t see the point in putting effort into an outfit as he has no desire to please others.

However when Thomas starts making videos Logan can’t help but show up from time to time. He is unsure why as he could not care less what Thomas or the idiotic “Light Sides” think of him, though he figures while he’s there he might as well educate the buffoons so they can reach more informed, educated conclusions to their constant dilemmas.

At first the Lights don’t take his presence well, and more times than one he’d leave towards the end of an episode to explode in the privacy of his room. But surprisingly they eventually start listening to him, considering his inputs, and Logan leaves filming shoots satisfied, even popping into the Light Side’s area occasionally outside of filming days to talk to them.

However Logan notices a pattern as time goes on: the more he’s around the Light Sides, the less he goes Orange. He tests it by spending a week only hanging with the Lights and finds that his anger barely built up at all. Logan quickly reaches the conclusion that his orange trait isn’t actually uncontrollable, it’s how the others treated him that made it so hard to act civil. That is what leads to Logan hating the Dark Sides (much like canon Virgil does) and finally joining the lights.

Soon after being accepted Logan has an outfit change, where he goes from his burnt, tattered rags to his canon outfit, as he finally feels stable and appreciated enough to trust himself in not ruining a nice new Logic outfit. From then on his journey is about accepting that he has feelings and learning that they’re valid.

Extra note: Logan’s worst fear is the idea of going Orange in front of Thomas or the Light Sides - he finally has people who listen to him and if they see his orange side it might scare them off or they’ll lose any respect for him they had. Worst of all they could get hurt…

Extra extra note: Neither Thomas or any of the Light Sides apart from Janus are aware that Logan holds the Orange trait, believing that he only ever was Logic, just more apathetic to start with (and they actually all buy his reasoning of his old outfit being trashed due to him not caring enough about appearances to fix it, to Janus’s dismay but not disbelief - a bunch of himbos, the lot of them!).

Virgil:

Virgil still represents the “Fight or Flight” response in this AU, just without the excess Anxiety. His official title would be “Instinct”, and he would be more confident than canon Virgil. The decrease in anxiety would also make him better at making rational decisions, though he would still freak out and make not-so-great choices in stressful situations.

Rather than a spider, I decided to link this Virgil more strongly with a cat, with heightened senses, lightning reflexes and eyes that reflect light much like a cats. These additions also match with his change of aesthetic from patchwork emo to fantasy vigilante mixed with bright purple punk, plus the addition of purple eyeshadow applied actually correctly. I made this choice as both canon and this Virgil see themselves as a protector of Thomas, yet Virgil is still slightly more morally grey than the other 2 Light Sides (sort of like canon Logan) hence a darker design. Plus is it really Virgil at all if he doesn’t spend his free time listening to MCR?

Virgil also takes the role of canon Roman when it comes to Patton being accepted: he initially falls strongly for Patton’s caring qualities, with the Dark side helping sooth his anxious moments and suggesting that Thomas make other non-selfish options that don’t make Virgil feel as anxious as some of Janus’ options. So for Patton’s first few conflicts Virgil sticks up for him, claiming he’s not all bad. Then he witnesses how Patton’s selfless choices affect Thomas and realises he’s been manipulated; there was no reason to go all the way with Patton’s choice and hurt Thomas, yet Patton had convinced him that it was either his way or the wrong way, no compromises available.

So by the time Patton reveals his name Virgil really dislikes him and makes a snarky remark in which Patton replies with a jab at how he didn’t realise being Thomas’ protector meant that you could be as evil as you wanted with none of the consequences. Virgil’s equivalent line to Roman’s hero one could be something like “Don’t you trust me?” or “I thought I was your best friend?” - then again Roman’s hero line does work with this version of Virgil.

Janus:

This was one of the easiest traits to decide: with a lot of his more manipulative and deceitful traits being distributed between Patton and Roman, Janus is officially titled “Self-Preservation”, and while he doesn’t claim the father role like Patton does, he is still very much seen as a parental figure and guiding light for Thomas and the lights. He tries to be warm and welcoming to the Light sides (part of his role is to take care of Thomas, hence taking care of the parts that make Thomas), and they naturally gather around him as he gives off a safe aura.

However he is not quite as kind to the Darks - he still has the role of managing what truths Thomas can handle, so he controls which sides stay hidden from him. The darks being revealed tends to be down to him slipping up or the side finding a way around his defences more than by him deciding Thomas is ready to meet them, and each time it happens he beats himself up over it and tries to work harder to not let it happen again. The problem he doesn’t realise is that the slip ups tend to happen in the first place due to him overworking himself to make the others / Thomas happy - he doesn’t quite perform the self-care he preaches about.

I’m still not quite sure where I want to go with Janus’ outfit: the initial thought was to put him in a more Patton inspired attire, however this is still Janus, and he is still a theatrical boi. I ended up settling for a mainly cottage-core aesthetic with a flowy long sleeve yellow shirt made out of a light fabric, brown trousers and an overly large sunhat. He also drapes himself in bright patterned shawls and wraps (still predominantly yellow in colour) as while he doesn’t look as snake-like as he canonically does he still has certain snake traits, such as a weakness to the cold and a yellow tint to his left eye.

However snake features do begin to form later on into the AU as Thomas’ views on Lights and Darks alter over time: he begins to realise that despite how it appears Janus is not always in the right, such as how if it hadn’t been for mistakes Thomas would never have met the Darks and learnt to grow as a person - in fact if Self-Preservation got the say in everything he would likely do little growing whatsoever. He and in turn the other Lights begin to find Janus too stifling until SvSR happens where under the stress Janus becomes a true snake boi. The scales and proper snake eye don’t fade afterwards due to Thomas’ subconscious change in perspective, and while it is a big new insecurity at first over time Janus learns to accept these new changes to himself and the Mindscape, and begins adding a touch of darker mystical aesthetic to his look (slightly fantasy fortune teller based) to match his new look better - although cottage-core remains his go to!!

Extra note: In this AU Janus is definitely the side that would most likely be seen going around the Mindscape in a dress (Roman would also wear dresses on occasion but mainly only within his daydreams in the Imagination); he is all about taking care of yourself, and that includes wearing what makes you happy! Though I’m still kind of tempted to put him in a dress full time...

Extra extra note: while Janus is very much the “adult figure” in the Light Mindscape, he still has his goofy moments like in canon - in general he is more relaxed and jokey with the others...though he’s still a sarcastic shet.

(I struggled finding images that matched at all with the ideas in my head, so take these as very vague links to the actual design)

Remus:

Oh boy, Remus is a fun one...

So now that Roman is the twin known by a different title (like how canon Remus is referred to as “Intrusive Thoughts”), Remus now has claim to the Creativity role!! However Remus isn’t going to do a 180 personality wise - he’s still going to be a chaotic gremlin, just with a light side twist.

His design is purposely all over the place: his aesthetic is mainly pirate based with a long sleeve pirate shirt, loose black trousers and heeled black and silver pirate boots, alongside a dark green pirate jacket and slightly brighter bandana. However he has other seemingly random elements thrown in there, such as a white and green hero cape (fuck what Edna says) coming off the back of the coat, and random colourful potions in the green belt under his coat alongside a knight’s sword. This mismatched look is due to the type of imagination Remus provides: while he still represents and creates intrusive thoughts, he also creates adventure stories and life goals/dreams for Thomas, hence takes a form that has mixed elements from Thomas’ self-inserts and protagonists for said stories. While he personally loves his messy design (do you know how much fun can be had with magic potions, swords, tentacles, and a day in the Imagination? Remus sure does), it does cause some arguments between him and Logan over how illogical him and his ideas are (like canon Roman and Logan).

Roman makes this Remus....uncomfortable. Not necessarily because of his ideas (those are just dull and vomit-worthy in his opinion), but because of how he can’t separate dreams and reality - while Remus loves coming up with Imaginative stories for Thomas and setting slightly outlandish goals for the future, he has a level of awareness that Roman lacks in how he knows Thomas won’t ACTUALLY end up being a morally grey pirate travelling the seas to claim back the magical pendant of octopus powers (unless...). He’s also uneasy with how easily Thomas can fall for Roman’s delusions of grandeur and romance, in fact it opens up quite a major insecurity on how despite being the “good” twin his brother seems to succeed more as the creative role, eg. how Thomas will come up with a dream future career path, husband and even car in a matter of seconds yet Remus has to slave and hone in on decent ideas for weeks to reach his own standard.

This leads to another thing about Remus: while he doesn’t care what others think of his ideas (the trait I mentioned earlier that Roman was jealous of) he hold a high standard to himself and gets extremely happy when he perfects an idea. Besides he still wants his ideas to actually be used by Thomas as them being dismissed for not being good enough does hurt (a bit like how Remus got frustrated in the recent episode with how his “good” intrusive creations were being torn apart by Logan’s methods).

Extra note: The fact that Thomas doesn’t like or appreciate some of his darker ideas / intrusive thoughts doesn’t bother Remus too much as he tends to put less effort into them as he knows they won’t be liked - he just can’t help that they pop into his head and he has to get them out - repression is bad after all! However maybe there can be some episode drama about Remus wanting to be less stifled and have Thomas at least consider some of his more mature themes that he thinks would be good to expand upon.

Extra extra note: Just assuring the fact that Remus not caring what the others think about his work does not correlate with him not caring about the others. He loves his fellow Light Sides and Thomas - he’s just confident in his own craft and while appreciates advice and improvements from the others (he and Logan have a field day on creating biologically accurate gore together) he also is aware that HE is Creativity, and he understands his craft better than the others.

Extra extra EXTRA note: Wasn’t really sure how to put it in there but Remus still represents Thomas’ lust. Do with that what you want.

Thomas:

So all these changes to the sides....of course it has it’s effects on character!Thomas! However I’m getting REALLY tired now so this will be done in bullet points:

Not as Disney-centric as canon/real Thomas.

Has less issues with Anxiety, and more issues dealing with Depression

His morals start off a bit more flexible than canon due to always having we-live-in-a-society Janus as his guide

Still has intrusive thoughts, but not as debilitating with the lower levels of anxiety and the much better relationship with Remus.

Still overworks himself trying to help others (nice one Patton!)

Might have a different career due to Roman being more out the frame - maybe goes into writing instead with Remus’ more diverse form of creativity.

Does explore more diverse creative ideas and darker themes, but still out of habit sometimes puts down possibly good ideas as on surface level they appear too morally wrong.

However could possibly be in a non-creative career, and his major longing for a new career path could be what allows Roman through for the first time.

Less dad jokes but still incredibly goofy with both Remus and Janus being more present.

I think I’m going to wrap up there for now! I may make some art for this at some point, but I also want other’s opinions and ideas for this AU.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!!

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Ticket Please?

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Blood/Gore, brutal killings, swears.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This is a 3 chapter story that will be posted within a few days of one another. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃

“What do you mean Bryce that you can’t come? You promised you would! When is New York State ever going to open Rose Red to be explored like this again Bryce?” You spoke into your cell phone while looking in the mirror, currently doing a french braid to keep your hair out of your face. Your expression reflected back at you was a mixture of fury and disbelief. You had only been talking about this charity for 6 months, and here was your boyfriend backing out after he’d promised to come with you numerous times.

“Something came up with Maya, okay? You know my sister can’t do anything without fucking it up. Besides it's just a house”

“Bryce, don’t talk about your sister that way.” You sighed exasperatedly before your voice dropped slightly conveying your disappointment “And it's not just a house, it's just the most haunted manor and grounds in New York. They had it condemned supposedly just for that reason! You really can’t come?”

“You know that shit isn't real. Sorry Baby, but why don’t you take one of your friends? How about that Karen chick?”

You gave a sigh and roll of the eyes, Bryce never bothered to get to know any of your friends, not like you did with his friends. “You mean Stacey? Her name isn’t Karen.”

“Well, she’s like a Karen.” He retorted with a condescending tone.

“Whatever Bryce, I’m hanging up now.” you snapped out, he was being an ass especially considering this entire night had actually started out as a treat to him from you.

“Hey, Hey, I was kidding. Take Stacey. You know I wouldn’t be any fun, I never liked Snowpiercer, remember?”

“That’s not the point Bryce…” you sighed again.

“Look, go have fun with Stacey, and tomorrow morning I will pick you up, we can go for a drive down the coast, just the two of us. Maybe have a long weekend in Hampton. How does that sound? I will even take you to that hotel you like. That one right on the beach with the view we stayed at last summer. We had fun there, didn’t we Sweetness.” now his tone was a hint of teasing and promise, and although you were still mad that he ditched you again, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that he was trying to make it right.

You bit your lip remembering, it had been a fantastic vacation, and Bryce really showed you a good time without ever having to leave the room. At your silence he gave a chuckle of triumph. “That’s what I thought, I'm gonna call them right now. Have fun tonight baby.”

“Okay, but you better be here bright and early Bryce. Love-” Before you could even say the words, he hung up, and you hit the end call button, trying to get over the feeling of disappointment before you called Stacey. You could already hear what she would say, but as your best friend, she would be there. She always was. Dialing her number, you pulled out the tickets from your purse, allowing yourself a smile.

What could you say, you were a fangirl. Snowpiercer was such an intricate dark story, you had fallen in love with it the first time you watched it on Netflix. So when Bryce mentioned his grandfather was helping sponsor a haunted house charity at the town's resident creepy manor, and it was featuring several film sets. Including none other than Snowpiercer, you just had to have all the details. It even went as far as Bryce having his grandfather putting in a good word of how much of a fan you were to get you in. You scrimped and saved, Bryce as well helped you with paying for the tickets. You had really wanted to do this with him too. No, he didn’t share your love for the story, but he was your boyfriend and Halloween was your favorite holiday. It was something you two could have shared.

Oh well, next year we will do what he wants to do, you thought to yourself waiting for Stacey to pick up her phone.

A familiar voice answered, jerking you from your thoughts. “What’s up? I thought you would have already left for the charity function?” Stacey questioned.

“Slight change of plans, something came up with Maya, and Bryce can’t make it.”

“Big surprise.” the answer made you wince, cause this wasn’t the first time you called Stacey about Bryce. “You want some company? I can be ready by the time you get here?”

“Please?” you already had your purse over your shoulder and were heading out the door as she answered.

“Don’t worry girl, I got you. See you in a few.”

The line to get into the grounds was long, cars piled up as the two of you pulled to a stop. Stacey leaned forward to look out the windshield, giving a soft whistle. “Damn, they pulled out all the stops for this charity, didn’t they? Isn’t that the Rose Red Manor?”

“Yea, they were able to get it for the night from the Governor. Pretty crazy since this place has been condemned, they were supposed to demolish it back when Ellen Rimbauer’s grandson sold it to New York. You know the stories here, don’t you? Men die, Women disappear never to be seen again. The house somehow has random room built on out of nowhere. No one actually knows how many rooms Rose Red has, and the grounds are much larger then the records state.” You let your foot off the brake, easing forward.

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Stacey gave a shudder and you laughed, winking in a teasing manner. “How does a house keep getting bigger? I say bullshit.”

“It’s all just for spooks, the place is safe or else they wouldn’t let us on the grounds.”

“If I die Y/N, I’m haunting you.” Stacey jibed back, pulling up to the concession stand, and you rolled down your window.

“How many, and what set are you here to visit?” a tired voice sounded at you while you pulled the tickets out of your purse and handed them out the window.

“2, for the Snowpiercer, Curtis Everett set.”

The redhead took your tickets, her green eyes flickering to check them before she gave a slight smirk of perfectly painted ruby lips. She leaned forward, to look into the car. “Curtis Everett you say? A personal favorite of mine, the set reminds me a bit of home.” Your eyes flickered to her name tag, reading Natasha Romanoff, it sounded Russian, where it is assumed the train derailed at the end of the film. “Curtis is a bit intimidating, but don’t get scared, it's all a part of the show.” She stamped your tickets and collected bracelets, handing them back to you which you and Stacey both snapped onto your wrists. “Enjoy, and make sure you have those tickets on you. The Wilford on set will be looking to collect them. Bozhe, pomiluy tebya.” God have mercy on you.

Your brows came together in confusion at the foreign launguage and gave a nod. “Thanks?”

The woman smiled and snapped her window shut, ending the conversation. Pulling the car away to continue to park, Stacy wrinkled her nose. “What was that about?”

“You got me. I don’t even know what language that was, I’m guessing Russian?” You watch and follow the people directing you to park and are soon in your designated spot. “Whatever, you ready?” The uneasiness slipped away as you got excited, cause lets face it, Curtis Everett had been a crush for you since you saw the movie. And now you were going to see him, well the actor in the role, once again. From what you could tell this charity was an a-list kind of deal, cause after hours of scouring online, you found nothing talking about Chris Evans doing this function. Maybe Bryce was good for something, you thought as you got out of the car, and then chided yourself for being so cruel to your boyfriend. After all, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be seeing Curtis or the Snowpiercer set. While you two were walking, apparently the last ones in the queue, you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

Hey, Stacey, and I just got here. Miss you and Love you.

It wasn’t even a few minutes till your phone pinged back

Have a good time and don’t get too scared.

Smiling to yourself at the glowing screen, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and proceeded towards the front where you showed your bracelets.

“Ahh Snowpiercer, you actually go around back. Follow me.” Your host said as he led you around the side of the building, away from the last of the people disappearing inside.

“We're not going into the house?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea, it was supposedly one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. The well-dressed host turned, looking at you for a moment before putting on a suave smile.

“Since you are special guests, I’ll wait for you after your tour with Curtis Everett on Snowpiercer. Give you a proper tour of Rose Red. But I assure you, that you’re in for a better treat, this is a truly exclusive walk though as hardly anyone gets to explore this much of Rose Red. Did you know that Ellen Rimbauer also had a private train on the grounds? It’s not documented as extensively as the house is, but many strange occurrences have happened here as well. It’s rumored that a single match light can be seen running up and down the aisles. Workers will be glimpsed from the corner of your eye in the darkest shadows. The ones that have visited the train claim to feel extensive chills, and in the engine, ramblings and whispers of madness can be heard. Most assume it's the conductor, looking for his replacement.” Your host continued, while out of the darkness a massive ominous train loomed, vines all over it, and it almost had a skeletal appearance as windows were busted out of it, and it looked pitch black in all the openings.

“The workers used the train to bring in materials from the harbor to the construction site. And in 1903, a riot happened on the train, the crew claimed that they weren’t being compensated for the conditions, and they demanded better wages. When W. Rimbauer refused them, they put a stop to the train for good. Resulting in many deaths.” Your host led you to the front car, in which a pale man stood with a lantern and a single red rose he was twirling in his fingers, and upon seeing the trio of you, he promptly slipped the delicate flower into his robe and smoothed down his outfit. Giving a wave, he stepped down and you noticed that oddly he was wearing what looked like a luxurious robe, his bald head shining in the glow of the lamp. The more you studied him, the more you thought he looked exactly like Ed Harris in his Wilford role. You were about to ask, when he interrupted you with his own question to the host.

“Blackwood, this the Curtis couple? We were a bit worried you wouldn’t show up tonight. Which is a shame, as Curtis has been waiting for you.” He seemed to direct his answer solely at you, his pale blue eyes glinting gleefully at you, it was the only way you could describe it, but they still sent a shiver down your back. Ed Harris or not, he was a good Wilford, you thought to yourself as you tried not to let his act give you the creeps. Stacey pulled in closer to you, hooking her arm through yours and whispering.

“You sure we should go on this train? It’s pretty fucking creepy back here. And where is everyone else?”

Blackwood cleared his throat with a smile. “Now ladies, the Curtis scene was very exclusive. In fact, only you two were able to get tickets. Seeing how it’s away from the main house. But I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Wilford here as I must return for the next group. I will be back soon to give you a house tour afterward. You ladies enjoy the fully immersed experience.”

Your host left you with Wilford, who lifted his lamp to show a path that led down the side of the train. “It’s just a way down here, Curtis will meet you inside, and take you on the tour of Snowpiercer. Now, remember, he will not be breaking character as is per his instructions. We want this to be as authentic as possible.”

You and Stacey follow along behind his seemingly smooth stride, both of you tripping up a bit although Wilford seemed to have no issues with the uneven ground. Both of you were panting a bit when he came to a stop, and held a hand up to a ladder, leading into the darkest opening you’ve ever seen.

“There are no lights inside?” You drawled out and Stacey braced her hand against the train to catch her breath.

“How the hell are we supposed to see? And climb in with heels? No one told us that this was going to be an expedition just to see a movie set.” the woman snapped out, and Wilford turned that gaze from you to Stacey, giving a cold smile.

“It will all come on once you're inside, everything is in its preordained place in Snowpiercer and we are allowing you to really see it all come to life. But before you two go on, can I have your tickets please? No one goes onto the snowpiercer without one.” His grin turned eerie in the shadows on the lantern he had brought with him, and you were quick to look away from it,

Fuck he is weird. You shudder, while searching your bag and handing over both tickets. He immediately put them in his robe and held the lantern up so you could see a bit better to get inside. Grasping the ladder, you start to climb in, Stacey following right behind, holding onto the back of your shirt. One you stumbled in, and Stacey did too, you both turned to look back out, expecting Wilford to follow you in, but the door slammed shut, and a shudder went through the train, hard enough so you both yelped, falling into each other.

“Y/N! What the fuck is this? We have to get out of here.” You could feel Stacey digging into your arms in a panic, and you stumbled back to where the door was, your hands slamming against freezing cold metal, your palms pounding on the vibrating metal.

“Why is it vibrating? WHY IS THE TRAIN MOVING?” You started to yell, and Stacey moved up next to you, also slamming her palms against the metal walls. Blinding light made you both yelp and cover your eyes, stumbling to land in a heap when you pulled your arm away from your face, blinking to get your pupils to focus. It was an empty train cart, windows that appeared to be filled with bright natural light lined the walls, and at each end, metal doors that have yet to be opened. Stacey takes the first tentative moves to stand up, pulling herself to look out a window and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“What is it?” You ask as you start to push yourself up to a stand, and she shakes her head as if to shake whatever she was seeing away, muttering over and over.

“What the fuck?”

You make your way over, and all you can see is snow. Snow and ice, speeding past like this train were actually able to run on a track. Buildings encased in snow, making way to nothing but white, everywhere. Even the windows had frost encasing around the edges, your breaths fogging the glass.

“How? What?” you question, beyond confused and rubbing at your face to look again. How the hell could this be? You go to reach in your bag for your phone, and look down to see it is gone. And not just your phone, your bag. Scanning the train, there was no sign of it. Panic settled in a little more now that you didn't have a way to call for help should you need it.

Stacey pressed her fingers to the glass, her tone a bit shrill as if she was trying to convince herself it was make believe. “Gotta be like we're watching a screen right? Just supposed to look like the trains moving.” Although the train gave another shudder, swaying back and forth.

You never got an answer, as one end the doors swung open and people wearing all black spilled into the train, all carrying axes, faces masked so you couldn’t see anything discernible about them. Except for flashing teeth among happy grins. Each one hefting their ax like it was a toy. Your confused addled brain screamed at you to pay attention. Danger. But you were in too much of a shock to really focus.

Another whoosh and you spin around to see who was coming out the other side, Stacey whimpering in fear next to you, still staring at the first group. But your eyes raked over these men, dirty and worn looking. The one in front had a wide stance, his feet braced against the rocking of the train like he was familiar with it. A black trench coat swept around him, ragged sweaters piled over a broad chest and your gaze fell onto a familiar hard face, scanning his opponent, drawing himself into a more fighting stance. Curtis Everett.

“Oh shit” it dawns on you what scene this was and you draw Stacey closer to you, and back against a wall.

“What? Oh god, I don’t understand what is happening.” Stacey said in a panicked voice, and you shook her a bit.

“I don’t know either, but stay out of everyone’s way, okay? Those axes are not fakes!” The weapons they held were clearly not props, the heavy blade handles slapped in palms, and gleamed in the winter sun streaming through the windows. A touch would easily slice into anything. And these two groups look ready to hack into each other.

“Shouldn’t they help us get out?” Stacey’s eyes rolled wildly, and you gulped, seeing the large trout get passed up, and just as you guessed, the ax easily sliced into the fish’s flesh, drizzling blood down to see along the edge, dripping down the handle and to the floor.

“I don't think so Stace…” You whipped back to look at the opposing group, feeling Curtis’s gaze seeking yours with a glimmer of hatred and confusion behind them. For half a second, then it was back on their enemies. You could see it, the taunting lunges each group made, and just when they both broke for each other, you screamed and yanked Stacey down onto the ground as they all collided. Attempting to avoid stomping feet and falling blades, you two tried to stick to the wall, screaming and covering your heads, blood splattering everywhere above you in hot sticky sprays that rained down on your two.

Stacey wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice piercing above the noise of the fighting, bodies started to litter the floor, and you tried to make your way towards one of the exits, your hands and knees slipping in warm fluid. Over bodies you dragged yourself when Stacey’s screaming changed to one of pain and panic. Looking over your shoulder, she was getting dragged away by her ankles, her fingers trying to find a hold in the floor, nails raking through the blood to create long rakes through all the red.

“Y/N! Y/N! Help!” she continued to scream, and you twisted to go back for her when she was whipped to her back and her arms came up in defense, trying to cover her face or neck.

“No!”

Whump! This is when you lost all your control and started to scramble back for her. There was so much screaming and you never realized it was coming from you.

Whump! The ax planted in Stacey’s chest and she jerked upwards, trying to push the blade away, and the militants foot planted on her stomach, yanking her loose. You would still see her moving, still alive. You were closer.

Whump! this one landed on her skull, blonde hair turning stringy red and his boot planted on her face this time, crushing in her forehead and nose as he yanked it out, once more red spray flew through the air.

Several whacks fell on her, over and over, spraying you with each yank the axe gave off Stacey's body, the militant man grinning as her blood sprayed all over him, you, any nearby person.

You were in shock, your hands to your mouth, as you saw Stacy's body collapse into broken pieces, blood spurting out of her mouth and she went limp right in front of you. His gaze fell to you and his wide bloody grin looked like he just won the prize, his axe lifting when he was suddenly thrown back and slaughtered himself. You didn't pay attention to who took him out, only catching sight of a whipping coat snapping in the person's actions, you turned towards your best friend's body, convinced she might still be alive. This was all just for fun, pretend after all, right? Snowpiercer and the Revolution did not exist.

“Sss-Stacey?” you crawled over to her, your hands cupping her broken face and leaning over her still warm form, doing your best to hold what remained of her face together, as if you could just piece it back together like a puzzle. You kept shaking her, although she had several gaping holes in her body.

“Come on Stacey, we got to move.” you sobbed over her, unaware once more of what was going on.

You didn’t notice the fighting stop or the survivors rush to look out the windows in a panic, but you did feel a hand yank the back of your shirt to slam you into the wall and keep you pinned in place. Even as you struggled to get back to Stacey’s body, lying lifeless. You didn’t notice any of these things till a growl snarled in your ear. “Girl, stop it! What’s wrong with you?” A vicious shake thudded your head against the wall, and the crack against the back of your skull made your eyes roll back in pain. The world tipped upside down, Curtis’s scowling cut face tipped around, and you went under, the blackness welcomed from the hell you just experienced.

“Hey Curtis, she’s awake.” was the first thing you heard, your head pounding and when you started to pry your lids open, figures were blurry, moving around, flashes of light blinding you till they were blocked back out by bodies. You gave a moan and lifted your hand to your face when the larger one slapped it away, and the cold slick hand grasped your throat, dragging you forward. “Focus Bitch, we don’t have all day.” Your eyes snapped obediently to Curtis, fearful and wide-eyed as you took him in.

In the movie, he was large, towering over others. Here, as he was staring you down, face contorted to semi-controlled rage, and leaning over you so you could feel his hot breath wash over his face, how the blood dried to crack along his cheek, and eyes that you swore were debating snapping your neck.

“I don’t understand what is going-”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not asking questions here. Wilford sent you?”

“Wilford? Yes, yes.” You stutter, his fingers squeeze further and you can feel the hot tears streaming down your face, landing on his filthy hands. “He put Stacey and I in here, m-m-my friend. She was…” Your eyes rolled to where her body was twisted strangely, smeared in gore from where she slid around, or someone tripped over her. All you knew is her eyes started up at nothing now. Her wounds were gaping and bled out.

Curtis gave you a shake, his snarl brought you back to him. “She was what? What did Wilford send you two back here for?”

“We were here for a charity! I was supposed to meet Chris Evans, You as Curtis Everett.” your voice started to rise in a panic, your hands grasping his wrist at your neck. “That’s it, why is the train moving? Why are you all using real axes, fuck I just want to get off.” You sobbed, the survivors looked at you with disgust, shaking their heads.

“Once you’re on the Snowpiercer, there is no getting off.” Curtis leaned back a bit, looking you up and down as if inspecting you curiously. “You’re such a fragile little thing. Just like a baby bird, all brittle bones and helpless.”

“No getting off? What are you even talking about?” your tears started to sting your eyes, the panic settling deep in your chest like your heart was about to explode.

Curtis ignored your question, his free hand tugging at your thin sweater and shaking his head. “Fucker didn’t even send you back here properly dressed.”

You tried to struggle and Curtis slammed you back hard enough to make you stop.

“She’s fucking whacked out of her gourd. Gotta be a kronole head someone spouting that shit.” A young man said behind Curtis, and he got in your face, tapping your cheek smartly. “Girl snap out of it, that shite fucking rotted your brain.”

“No Edgar, this is different, she's lying. Good at it, but lying.” Curtis made to stand, dragging you up with him. You stumble in his hold, falling against his body before he dragged you along, hissing in your ear.

“I don’t know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #snowpiercer #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer fanfic #dark curtis everett #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween 2020 #halloween #fanfic

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thehanwen · 4 years

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Quarantine Netflix Recs

Since were all at home watching Netflix I thought I would give my fav show/movie for every letter so everyone has something new to watch. Please send me your own recommendations or make your own alphabet list and tag me! Here goes:

A: Anne with an E- This modern take on Ann of Green Gables is quirky, fun, and dramatic. It has good music, writing and is all around a good watch. It deviates from the books a bit, but keeps the spirit.

B: Broadchurch- If you like crime dramas, this is for you. With one crime spanning the complete first season it delves deep into motive and emotions. David Tennet stars in this tense British mystery.

C: Cargo- A dystopian zombie apocalypse film set in Australia with a focus on human connection, and sacrifice. This is honestly so different than any other zombie movie I have seen in the best way.

D: Daybreak- Sticking with the apocalypse theme, daybreak is a humorous view on what happens when a nuke kills all the adults and leaves all the teenagers. Its like if high school was the whole world, but the world had also ended. Strong characters and ‘Ferris Bueller’ esc fourth wall breaks give this show something special.

E: The Worlds Most Extrodiary Homes- For a change of pace this mindlessly beautiful home reality show shows off architecture that could be classified as art and makes me wonder how anyone can actually live here. If you just want something with no stakes what so ever, this is the eye candy for you.

F: Frontier- A gritty, and dark period piece starring Jason Momoa as the badass outlaw working against the British in the Canadian wilderness. Half political, half survival drama this show focus on the fur trade during the 1700s as well as themes like revenge, family history and love.

I have to do two for F: Feel Good- This emotional comedy is about Mae, a gay, ex-addict comic and her previously straight girlfriend. It is real and emotional and hilarious. It’s filled with amazing characters and amazing writing and explores hard to talk about subjects, including addiction, love, coming out, and family and romanitc relationships.

G: Godless- A refreshing addition to the western genre. An injuryed outlaw, a headstrong widow, the whole of the wild west. Gritty and dramatic, this mini series is a must watch

H: How it Ends- Another apocalypse film, can you guys see a pattern? This one is less about the event however and more about family. A young man and his future father-in-law travel across the desolate wasteland of the USA to save his fiance.

I: I am Not Okay with This- A sci-fi coming of age story, based on a comic book, about a young girl who develops mysterious superpowers and is not okay with it. Also shes gay and in love with her best friend, its great.

J: John Mulaney- I assume everyone has already seen all of his specials, but if you haven’t go check them out! They are hilarious and relatable on a deep level.

K: Klaus- This is my new favorite Christmas movie. Its got wit, charm, great character development and beautiful animation. It’s the first original Christmas movie that I've liked. It gives a new spin to all your favorite Christmas traditions while holding on to the essence of the Christmas spirit.

L: Let it Snow- Based of the book co-written by Maureen Johnson, John Green, and Lauren Myracle this film is a feel good romance with quicky characters that have thier lives changed forever by a snowstorm in their small hometown. Friendships and romances are formed and tested as these teens figure out how to deal with what life throws at them.

M: Maniac: In an unlikely pair Emma Stone and Jonah Hill work amazingly well together in a drug trial that is supposed to cure all mental illness, of course not everything goes as planned. Our heroes go through multiple stages of the trial and discover their brains are miraculously linked. This series merges multiple genres into something surprisingly cohesive.

N: National Treasure- “I’m gonna steal the declaration of Independence”

O: The OA- A psychological sci-fi thiller about a blind girl who gets kidnapped and held prisoner by a mad scientist looking for other dimensions. The friends she makes along the way mean everything, but when she gets found not only are they missing, but she can see again.

P: Princess and the Frog- A cute Disney twist of the classic fairy tale. A young woman working hard to buy her own restaurant meets a prince that has been turned into a frog by a shady magic man. But when she kisses him he doesn’t turn human, she turns frog. Together they have to figure out how to get back to being human and along the way they learn what they really need.

Q: apparently I have never watched a single thing on Netflix that starts with Q. So Queer Eye I guess. I’ve never watched it, but I've heard good things.

R: The Rain- After a deadly virus is discovered in the rain, sister and brother, Simone and Rasmus are separted from thier family and hide in a bunker for 6 years. Once they are forced to emerge they discover the world is much different than how they left it and their family wasnt all they thought it was.

S: Sense 8- This sci-fi drama focuses on 8 people from all over the world connected by some kind of psychic link. As they discover the extent of thier new abilities they also find out they aren’t the only ones and some others aren’t so friendly. This series was made with so much love and divotion and it shows throughout. The character development and backstories are rich, the writing is witty and thoughtful and the representation and focus on love above all else is so refreshing.

T: Tallulah- This drama is dark and witty, while simultaneously being bright and uplifting. When a young drifter kidnaps a baby from a neglectful mother and pretends the baby is hers, her boyfriends mother takes them in. The story is about family and doing the right thing, even when you can’t find the right choice in the grey area.

U: The Umbrella Academy- This series based on a comic book written by Gerard Way is about superheroes with out being about superheroes. They don’t save the day. They can barely save themselves, oh and also the world. Numbered 1-7 these siblings all have their own issues and getting them to work together was the dying wish of their asshole of a father.

V: None? Anyone have any ideas?

W: The Witcher- This series, based on a video game based on a book, is about a mysterious monster hunter and the bard he meets a long the way. Somehow full of action and also full of humor this series delves deep into the history and culture of this fantasy world.

X, Y, Z: I got nothing guys, but thanks for reading all the way down here. I hope you watch some of these shows and that you send some of your own recs to me!

Also None of these photos or shows or anything are mine and all belong to their rightful owners

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 3 years

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One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳ Word count: 2,294

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work.

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work.

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more.

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor.

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail.

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun."

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick."

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?"

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together.

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose."

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay."

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better.

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing.

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station.

[Rhiannon (5)]

She sure knew how to type quickly.

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything?

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond

You: hardy har

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today?

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off?

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response.

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there?

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on.

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep?

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit?

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N)

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today

Mark didn't respond right away.

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay?

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct127 #nct #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Won’t You Stay (Part 3)

Summary: Jensen is injured on set which leads to pushing back one of the biggest stunts of the movie. Later on that night, Jensen walks the reader to her car where a few sparks start to fly...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

“Jensen! Run it back again!” you called the next morning. He jogged back to his first mark, spinning around and taking a deep breath. He’d taken a hard fall a few takes before on a stray branch and had been slow to get up. You knew something was bothering him but he didn’t say anything so you decided to keep going. “Action!”

Jensen ran through the woods and paused right at the camera, panting a few times before he looked around nervously.

“Cut! Good, very good, Jensen. Just what we need,” you said. “Moving on to 12!”

“Uh, after lunch,” whispered AJ.

“Let’s break for lunch and then get going on the big scene for the day,” you said. You let out a sigh, leaning over to your AD. “Thank you. I thought we were running late again.”

“We’re ahead of schedule. Everyone here gets their union breaks so don’t worry, someone will let you know if we’ve gone too long. Don’t stress so much,” he said with a smile.

“We have one of the biggest stunts of the film today. I am more than a little stressed,” you said. You hopped out of your chair and walked to the lunch line, making sure everyone went through before you went to get yours. You didn’t catch Jensen though and headed to his trailer when you didn’t see him around. “Jensen? Are you in there?”

“Yeah,” you heard from the other side of the door. “What do you need?”

“You get some lunch yet?” you asked.

“I’ll grab it in a minute,” he said.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You were moving a little slow those last few takes.”

“Yeah, fine,” he said. You leaned against the door, staring at the name plate panel on the outside.

“You’re doing a hell of a job of convincing me, Jensen,” you said.

“Y/N, I’m fine, really,” he said as a small whine came out of him.

You rolled your eyes and opened the door, stepping up and spotting Jensen in his kitchenette without a shirt on.

“For fucks sakes, Y/N. What if I was naked?” he asked, putting his arms around himself. Your gaze went to his ribs, a dark purple spot there he tried to cover up.

“Hey, you are not okay,” you said. He sighed and put down the roll of bandages in his hand on the counter. “Did you get hurt this morning? I saw you fall in the woods. You should have said something.”

“It’s a bruise,” he said. You sighed and stepped over, Jensen closing his eyes. “We have a big stunt this afternoon and as long as I wrap it up-“

“I am cancelling the stunt. We’ll push it back,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“My actors are more important to me than schedules or budgets. You get injured, on or off set, you tell me, no matter what,” you said. “Understand?”

“Okay but-“

“My dad, action hero, supernatural horror, romantic leading man, devilish boy with the soft core, has a very important rule when it comes to acting,” you said.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking a deep breath and wincing.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s your dream role. It doesn’t matter if it’s a story you love. If you’re not respected and treated with kindness on the project, you walk away. If it’s not a safe environment, you walk away. It’s a good rule to have, Jensen,” you said.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying that I will go tell the studio that we need to push back scene 12. We can do it when you’re healthy. Until then, no stunts for you,” you said.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he said.

“Jensen. It’s no trouble at all. Honestly. It’s my job. Now put on your shirt and let's go to medical, get you fixed up and then have some lunch, okay?” you said. He nodded, pausing as he pulled his flannel on. “Need help?”

“I like your dad’s rule,” he said. “I think I’ll be okay on this project though.”

“You will be,” you said. He started to button up his shirt and you turned away to give him his privacy.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s not like I don’t have to get down to my undies for this thing at some point,” he said. “I’m so looking forward to that day on set.”

“Well the ladies have a thing for Lyle. But this is your personal space. I’m sorry I came into it without permission. I thought you were hurt. I won’t do it again,” you said. “I promise.”

“It’s okay. You were concerned,” he said, finishing with the buttons. “I’ll just remember to change in my bedroom from now on.”

“Good call. Ready to go get your check up?” you asked.

“Alright,” he said. “Lead the way, boss.”

“I thought I said not to-”

“I’m teasing,” he said, bopping your nose. “Boss.”

“Keep it up, Ackles,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go get you feeling better.”

“I’m really not that bad,” he said as you walked out of his trailer.

“You don’t want to mess with bruised ribs if you can help it. At least the nurse will be able to get you wrapped up all secure and she probably has some good pain meds,” you said.

“I mean, I can go on my own. I’m not five. You gotta be starving. Go get your lunch, Y/N.”

“Ackles. Anyone ever tell you you’re grumpy when you’re not feeling well?”

“Actually yes,” he chuckled. “My parents would fully agree with you.”

“I had a feeling,” you said. He was a little slow as he walked but you didn’t push him to go faster. “Jensen. If you do get hurt again, please say something. Even outside of work.”

“I will. This kinda sucks,” he said. “Not that I’m a whimp or anything. But it does hurt.”

“What hurts?” asked your dad, popping out of the bathrooms nearby and jogging down the steps.

“Jensen has a nasty bruise from a fall this morning. I just want him to get checked out in case,” you said. “We’re going to push back scene 12 in the meantime.”

“Hm. Any idea what we’ll do instead?” asked your dad.

“Something easy going. I have to see what sets we have available,” you said.

“What about when Hale and Lyle sit and talk that night? You could probably do that without too much hassle in the studio,” said Jensen.

“He does have a point,” you said. “Scenes twenty eight and nine and thirty three? You guys think you could study those while I get it organized?” you asked.

“Yeah. I think that’ll be good. Oh and Jensen. Put some aspercreme on that bruise tonight before bed, ice for ten minutes and then wrap it. It’ll help. I’ve taken my fair share of hits,” said your dad.

“Thanks Ethan,” said Jensen as you went over towards the medical area with him. You got on your radio and told Mark and AJ the new plan while Jensen was checked out by the nurse. You knew you’d be getting a nasty phone call probably within the hour but you tried not to think of that when Jensen came outside and gave you a thumbs up.

“Doing okay?” you asked.

“Not broken. Just bruised the muscle. Got some medicine and a better fitting wrap to use. I feel better already,” he said. “But I was advised to take it easy for the next week.”

“Awesome. I’m glad it’s not too bad. We’ll make sure that we rework the schedule to do some easy-going scenes for you this week,” you said. Jensen walked with you back towards the lunch tent, most people either done or wrapping up with their food. You got a wrap and salad, sitting down with Jensen at a free table. You wolfed down your food, Jensen chewing slowly. He stared at you and you ate more slowly, Jensen chuckling quietly.

“I like a girl that’s not afraid to eat,” he said. “Go for it.”

“I don’t know why I’m rushing anyways. Everyone needs time to prepare for the new scenes,” you said. “You probably have an hour or two to learn your lines.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he said. You took a bite and tried to enjoy your meal, Jensen looking like he was in less pain than earlier. “So how do you become a director?”

“Hate yourself and the idea of ever sleeping again,” you said, smiling to yourself, Jensen returning it. “Well the truth is I grew up on film sets. I know a lot of stuff that most people don’t get to learn until they’re older. I started working when I was fourteen on set actually. Only a few hours a week after school or on the weekend but I learned a lot about camera work, pacing, lighting, basically everything. By the time I was done with college, I was interning in the production office and when I was working on my deal for the movie a few years later, I was confident enough that I knew all of the ins and outs to pull it off.”

“Wow. You were in training your whole life for this, huh,” he said.

“Sorta. I actually had a pretty average desk job for two years after college. I was writing in my spare time but I didn’t do any of this kind of stuff then. I missed working on something like this. Once the book was published, I knew I was going to write for a career and get back in the business if I could,” you said.

“I’m glad you came back to it. I like working here,” he said, showing off a soft smile and bright green eyes. “The set I mean. It’s better than pretty much every project I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s only day three. I have plenty of time to mess this up,” you said. You let out a dry laugh, Jensen cocking his head, giving you a friendly

“Maybe that’s true but you have to have some serious talent to be put in charge. I wouldn’t write that off for nothing if I were you,” he said. You nodded and finished up with your wrap, diving into your salad as you noticed a piece of his hair flop down over his forehead.

“You even got Lyle’s hair,” you said, pointing towards it. Jensen cocked his head and ran his hand over his forehead and up, the piece sticking back up. “Fixed it.”

“Thanks,” he said, wetting his thumb and running it over the spot.

“I caught a bit of your reel from when you were on Supernatural,” you said. Jensen paused but continued eating. “You do realize it was a good show. It wasn’t cancelled for bad acting.”

“I wish we could have gone a little longer is all. I really liked that story,” he said.

“Maybe someday Netflix could pick it up or something. You never know,” you said.

“Maybe. Right now though Lyle has my full attention,” he said. He took his last forkful of lunch and swallowed. “I better go learn my lines.”

“You got some time. Don’t rush,” you said. He hummed and stood up, turning to leave.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said over his shoulder. “Thanks for writing the book.”

“Thank you for reading it,” you said softly.

“You got this,” he said before he took off back towards his trailer. You smiled to yourself and tried to believe what he said.

Then your phone had to ring and you saw your boss calling.

“I’m sure this is going to go well.”

“Hey,” said your dad as you stretched from your chair at the end of the day. “I heard that studio exec said more than a few not nice things today.”

“Yup,” you said as you grabbed your bag. “Kinda made that time I cried after failing Calculus seem like not such a big deal.”

“You were such a good student. Your first semester of college was a hard change. Also your professor was a dick,” he said.

“Yeah, well nothing compared to being told off by my boss,” you said.

“I called Bryerson,” he said. You whipped your head around.

“Dad. I told you not to do me any favors on this whole deal,” you said.

“It wasn’t a favor. I heard what happened, just like everyone else. I called all of our bosses to let him know that you prioritized safety over a stunt. It won’t even cost that much to push filming back. You want to know what he said? That was the right call. You just made a friend up top today, kiddo,” he said.

“...Don’t call Bryerson for me again,” you said as you turned away. “Thank you.”

“Get some sleep at home tonight, Y/N,” he said.

“I will. Give Anthony a noogie for me,” you said.

“What’s Ella getting?” he asked with a smirk.

“Also noogie. I’m an equal opportunist older sibling torturer,” you said, laughing to yourself.

“You can always move back home, kiddo. We miss you,” he said.

“I’m twenty seven dad. I stayed long enough. I need my own space,” you said. “But I’ll try to be better about coming home more.”

“I know. Still getting used to it is all. So go home, try to relax and remember you did a good thing today,” he said. “Want a ride home?”

“No. I have a quick meeting but then I’ll get out of here, promise,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes you will. Night, sweetie,” he said. You got a quick hug before he headed for his trailer and you went to the production office to go over your new filming schedule.

An hour later you trudged out of the office with a yawn. You slipped on your jacket and backpack, hitting a few lights in the quiet building before you walked out the front door. You hummed and headed across the studio lot for the parking lot, whistling as you went.

You were about halfway there when you heard a noise come from the trailers. You paused and looked over at the little maze of them, poking your head down a dark row.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Do you always talk-“

“Fuck!” you shouted, spinning around, Jensen wincing in your face behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“I probably deserved that,” he said. “Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“I thought I heard something,” you said.

“It’s probably the generator. It kicks on sometimes,” he said.

“What are you still doing here? We wrapped an hour ago,” you said.

“I was watching dailies and had to sign some worker’s injury report thing at medical,” he said. “You?”

“Got bitched at again for pushing the stunt back,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“Jensen. I will take the bitching. I’m happy with my decision today,” you said. “Don’t worry about it. How’d the dailies look?”

“Cool,” he said. You giggled and he laughed. “Sorry. I know that’s not the technical term.”

“No. Cool is what I’m hoping for,” you said. “You like the camera stuff?”

“My dad’s an actor too actually. I grew up hearing about the whole industry. I’ve always been interested in the process,” he said.

“Ah. Another Hollywood baby,” you said.

“Nothing like you. I grew up in a house in the suburbs, nothing fancy or anything. I came here like once before I tried out acting. I had a very boring stereotypical childhood,” he said.

“I would have liked that,” you said. “We moved a lot growing up. It wasn’t until my dad got married that I went to the same school and stuff.”

“Yeah but your dad is Ethan Y/L/N. That’s pretty awesome,” he said, smiling wide. “It’s got to be fun working with him.”

“It is. It’s nice to see more of him. I moved out two years ago. I don’t make it home much lately,” you said.

“Any reason why?” he asked.

You shrugged, Jensen nodding.

“I moved in with my boyfriend,” you said.

“Oh.”

“He’s not in the picture anymore, hasn’t been for about a year,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I’m kinda between girlfriends myself.”

“Wow,” you laughed. Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I like that. It’s funny.”

“Sorry. Last girlfriend sort of slipped some personal stuff about me in an interview. I wasn’t a fan. It kinda turned me off from dating to be honest,” he said.

“She give out your address or something?”

“Talked about our sex life to MTV,” he said.

“Oh. Wow. That’s just bad,” you said.

“Yup. I don’t care if she thought she was giving me a compliment. That’s too personal to share,” he said.

“I don’t blame you,” you said.

“Being single has its perks though, right?” he asked. “We can stay up how late we want, no one to crowd the bathroom. No one eats your leftovers on you. It’s not the worst thing in the world, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah,” you said. You had to admit there were some upsides but having someone to come home to wouldn’t be half bad either. You gave him a smile, Jensen turning towards the parking lot a ways off. “I uh, should get home. We have an early day tomorrow.”

“I thought we didn’t have filming until two?” he asked.

“You don’t. I’ve got an assload of prep work to do before filming starts,” you said. He nodded and looked at you, the night air quiet. He moved a little closer and you saw his eyes dip down to your lips for a brief moment.

“I’m sure you do but you should probably sleep in,” he said, cupping your cheek. You stared at him, his hand quickly pulling away. “Uh, bags under the eyes.”

“You sure know how to make a sleep deprived girl feel pretty,” you laughed. He chuckled but it was forced and you saw him make a face at himself.

“Sorry. I uh, still get nervous around you,” he said.

“I wrote a book. Ain’t no reason to be nervous with me, Jensen,” you said, giving him a smile. “We should both probably head home though and get some sleep.”

“Agreed,” he said. You started to walk towards the lot, Jensen walking the other way for a second. “Sorry. Forgot I parked in the far lot.”

“I thought the actors had their own lot right around the corner?” you said. He stared at you, looking past with a tired smile.

“Just let me walk you to your car. It’s the least I can do after scaring you,” he said.

“I’m a big girl, Jensen,” you said.

“I know that. But let me walk you,” he said.

“Is this a you’re a gentleman thing?” you asked.

“This is me asking my friend if I can walk her to her car late at night so that I feel a little better knowing she got there safe,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, Jensen staying by your side as you walked in the quiet night air. “Thank you.”

“I’m not perfect but my parents did a few things right,” he said.

“My dad would appreciate that,” you said. “Mom too but dad’s always been a tad protective.”

“I never realized that the Y/L/N that wrote The Dark Woods was related to Ethan Y/L/N,” he said.

“You a fanboy of all the Y/L/N’s or just me?” you teased, getting closer when you heard shuffling on the other side of the lot fence.

“Well every boy growing up the past two decades thought he was awesome,” he said, moving to your other side. “I liked your book a lot though.”

“Why?” you asked. “I get that Lyle is kind of a dreamboat and like, the ideal guy but why do you like it? Give me the guy’s perspective.”

“Because Lyle could have been a bad guy and he turned out to be good,” he said. “Hale really treated him well.”

“Hale did kind of kidnap Lyle just a smidge,” you said with a laugh.

“Because he thought Lyle killed his son,” he said. “Then he ends up taking Lyle under his wing.”

“You know, I almost had Hale be evil,” you said.

“Why? Their relationship is even more important than Lyle and Molly’s,” said Jensen. “Nothing against Molly, I love her too but Hale and Lyle is so interesting to read about.”

“It was a rough time and I took it out on my characters,” you said. “It was wrong though, to do that to Lyle. Sorry. I know he’s not real.”

“You created him. He’s real, Y/N. He’s a good role model, for men and women,” he said.

“So you like his relationship with Hale the best?” you asked.

“Lyle was alone and Hale was kind to him after he realized Lyle didn’t hurt his son. Hale became a good dad to him,” said Jensen.

“Hale’s based on my dad a bit you know,” you said.

“Your dad is a vigilante?” teased Jensen.

“No. No. But you know, he was a single dad to his son and then to Lyle. I know what that’s like,” you said.

“I’m glad you didn’t make Hale evil,” said Jensen. “It would have crushed Lyle.”

“You really know that character, don’t you,” you said.

“He’s not a stereotypical guy. He’s not any one thing but at the end of the day, he’s good. I don’t know, it’s just...he’s more like how guys actually are, you know?” he said.

“Not in my experience,” you said. “Guys fucking suck. Except you. You’re sweet.”

“Well, you’ve also never dated me so it’s entirely possible I do indeed suck,” he chuckled.

“Jensen,” you said as you spotted your car and started to slow. “I um…”

“I know. Fanboy has to learn when to keep his mouth shut,” he said. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could head back for the other lot. “I think it’s cool you like this story so much. No one besides my family ever encouraged me to write or thought I was any good until I got published. I think Lyle’s really lucky he ended up with having you play him.”

“I’ll try to do him justice,” said Jensen.

“Jensen,” you said again. “Saturday night. I...I don’t think us seeing each other outside of work is such a good idea after all.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said as he turned away.

“I’m just crazy busy and I’m not ready for a relationship, Jensen. Maybe neither of us are. After filming is done we could-”

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. You sighed and stared at him, waiting for him to go. “Get in your car.”

“Why?”

“So I know you got in your car okay,” he groaned. “Just do it.”

“Guys don’t do that sort of shit outside of movies and books,” you said.

“Yes they do,” he said with a small smile. “You obviously haven’t met too many great guys then.”

“Thank you for walking me to my car,” you said as you put your hand on the door. He didn’t say anything and you rolled your eyes, sliding inside before you were turning the keys and heading home.

______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

251 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

Broken Me...

Ch. 7

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunately have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, heavy makeout seasion, almost smut, language, fluff, I think that’s it..

Word Count: 1564

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Getting out of the shower you throw on a pair of yoga pants, and an oversized slipknot T-shirt.

Deciding it was best to just be comfortable... Hell you hadn’t been much better off last night when he showed up to your room, and if he wanted to get to know you it was better that he see the real you, and not some overly done up version of you because you were trying to impress him..

Jensen said he was just gonna have takeout order, and sent up to our room, so he didn't plan on going out anywhere.

Which worked for you, you were a homebody, and always had been. Crowds weren't really your thing, and you would much rather sit on the couch cuddling, with Netflix playing in the background than be at some fancy restaurant, or a bar somewhere.

In your opinion you can't really get to know someone with a crowd of people around; at home in your comfort zone though, walls tend to come down and you really get to see the real person behind the public persona everyone puts on.

Jensen has had people staring at him, asking him questions, wanting pictures, signing things all day long. He deserves some time to just be comfortable without someone looking at him wanting something...

Throwing your hair into a cute messy bun, and was about to at least apply a little light makeup before Jensen got to the room when you heard the door open.

Crap... He’s already here… That as fast…

You walked out of the bathroom as Jensen sat his wallet, and phone on the desk. He looked at you and smiled, but now that it was just the two of you, and not a crowd of people around him, looking at him, you could see just how tired he was, and he looked exhausted standing there in front of you…

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower. I've ordered us some food. I should be out before it gets here." He said, as he grabbed his clothes out of his suitcase he walked by, and gave you a peck on the lips before heading to the bathroom with his clothes in hand.

You made your way over to the couch, your head screaming at you all the sudden out of nowhere...

You hoped that you weren't making a mistake...

He seemed distant...

Hopefully it was because he was just tired...

The longer you sat there waiting, the louder your insecurities got...

This man had the body of a damn Greek God...

His ex-wife looked like a damn model...

He was disgustingly rich... Not to mention famous...

Had people at his every call... Jared didn't seem too trilled when Jensen hugged you in the auditorium this evening before you headed to the hotel room. His friends must not like you either. This was never going to work. You started to get up and pack your things when you heard the bathroom door open.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frozen in place, standing next to his open suitcase. "Y/n, what is it?"

Dropping what he was holding, he rushed over to sit next to you on the bed, your face must have given you away..

"Nothing." You smile at him, trying to downplay it to him. He had enough to worry about, he didn't need to deal with your dumb insecurities on top of all the things he had going on in his life.

"Lier." He said simply, his piercing stare showing you no mercy whatsoever, apparently you weren’t that great of an actor then..

Jeez the man was breathtaking...

His forest green eyes looking deep into yours like he was reading into your soul...

"It's nothing, just my own stupid insecurities." You tell him, trying to laugh it off. Feeling embarrassed now you interested yourself in the comforter of the bed to not have to look at him... Because you were afraid you would start to cry if you kept looking at him..

He put his index finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

You hadn't realized how close he was sitting next to you until he did. The scent of his body wash draped over your senses, and clouded your judgment..

"You don't have a damn thing to be insecure about." He said, pulling you closer to him.

His lips finding yours instantly. Kissed you sweetly at first.

Gently.

One arm came around your waist, and he pulled you into his lap, like you weigh nothing at all, wrapping your leg around him.

His large hands made their way up your back until he reached up and pulled the pony tail from your hair, fixing his hands through your hair, and pulling you deeper into him. Like he just couldn’t get you close enough, a low moan rising in the back of his throat as his tongue traced over your own....

All rational judgments flew right out the window. All you could think about was his smell, his taste, the feeling of his growing erection pressing into your thigh.

All you wanted was him...

All you could think about was him…

Reaching up Jensen pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your sports bra..

“Jesus sweetheart, your beautiful.” His voice was practically dripping with lust...

Jensen had just started to run his hand up your bare back almost reaching your bra strap when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Delivery!!"

"You're gonna have to get that."

Jensen said, lips still just lightly touching yours. His breathing was heavy. His voice is deep, and rough, and man you didn't want to move.

The man was literally dripping sex...

The front door pounded again, and you pulled yourself to your feet, throwing your shirt on, and leaving Jensen to try and compose himself on the couch. You paid for the takeout he ordered, and walked in to find Jensen taking a deep drink of the whiskey he'd just poured himself.

“You okay?” You asked him, and he smiled at you, his eyes stills darker than they were normally, but the fire had died down in them some, showing just how tired he really was…

“Yeah, I’m good baby, let’s eat and get settled in for the night, I’m beat..”

After dinner the two of you spend the rest of evening cuddling, and having some pretty heated makeout seasons.

He never went any further than that. Always stopping himself before things got a little too heated.

One thing you had learned was that Jensen had a very dominant personality. He liked to be in control. The "man" in the relationship you could say.

You didn't mind.

You liked that about him. He wasn't NOT by any means a weak person. That was refreshing in a way. The two of you were about 10 years apart, and the men closer to your age did seem pretty wimpy in comparison..

Laying wrapped in his arms you lightly ran your fingers across his biceps and watched as a slight shiver ran through him. A comfortable silence had long fallen over the two of you The both of you were just enjoying each other's company..

"We have to leave to conference Sunday." He said quietly, you hadn't even thought that far ahead. It made your heart drop.

"I've taken a few weeks off to get myself together. I can't stay in Austin right now. I have to decide what I'm going to do. Where I'm gonna go when I can come home from filming..."

He took a deep breath, trying to keep the stress from returning to him so quickly..Running his fingers through your hair. That brought back to your memory what y/f/n had told you about you now having an apartment for yourself. She said her things were already moved out. An idea hits you as you debate within yourself. Hopefully it wasn't too forward or too fast.

"Y/f/n moved out of my apartment this weekend. It's small, and nowhere near what you're used to I’m sure, but you're welcome to stay with me when you're home." You blurt out in a rush.. Your heart racing. So scared you had moved too fast, and messed this up.

Finally you felt his lips brush against your forehead in the dark hotel room, only the flickering light of the TV showing as the two of you lay wrapped up in each other’s arms..

"I would love that." He said, wrapping one of his perfect bow legs around yours pulling you close as humanly possible to him.

Both of you seemed to breath a sight of relief in that moment, neither of you wanted to be alone, nor did you want to leave each other after only just finding one another, and this seemed liked the perfect solution..

You yawed, the events of the day catching up to you, that and lack of sleep last night, Jensen didn’t miss it either… Reaching over he turned the TV off, and pulled the both of you down deeper into the covers, nuzzling into the back of your neck and making himself comfortable.

"Goodnight baby girl." He said, as you drifted off into a deep peaceful sleep wrapped in his arms.

Grateful that he agreed to stay. Hoping that for once things might just actually go right..

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #x reader inserts #dark fic #hurt!jensen #jawritter #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #hurt!comfort fic

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prayedtoyou · 4 years

Text

overrated - read it on ao3

<< when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>> sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<< yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>> you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

#destiel #fanfic #my work #destiel college au

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theliterateape · 3 years

Text

I Like to Watch | Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings

By Don Hall

Hearts and Minds

The United States posited a slew of reasons for invading and occupying Afghanistan. Some were justified, others were falsified. The reason given most often was the amorphous win their hearts and minds nonsense as if any country could be won over by occupation at home and ridicule from across the ocean.

Hearts and minds are not won over with force or material goods. Hearts and minds are won over with ideas and those ideas cannot be sledgehammered in but more subtly presented. Those ideas have to be normalized.

Back in 2008—clearly a big year for LGBT rights—the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation did a survey of more than 2,000 U.S. adults 18 and older and found that two in 10 of them had changed their views of gays and lesbians in the previous five years to a more favorable one.

Their reasons? 34 percent said their views were influenced by seeing gay or lesbian characters on TV, and 29 percent said it was by a gay or lesbian character on film. Hollywood has been streaming LGBT characters into American homes for decades. The arc of inclusion may be long, and it bends towards pop culture.

Characters in comic books have advanced the conversation. Although independent comics lead the way with characters like Maggie and Hopey in Love and Rockets, for years the Comics Code Authority—and cultural attitudes—limited the role of LGBT characters in mainstream superhero titles. Over the last couple of decades, however, LGBT characters like the reimagined Batwoman and Green Lantern Alan Scott have made their way into comics, and both Marvel and DC have featured superhero storylines that featured same-sex marriage.

No question that this is a wonderful thing for those LGBT consumers—seeing someone like you on a big or small screen is important and valid. That, however, is not the most important part of greater and more diverse representation in pop culture. What increased exposure of those most marginalized does, more than anything else, is win the hearts and minds of the majority of Americans.

This is the same for black Americans. In recent years, we see more and more black men and women on our screens, in our Netflix queues, on television and Hulu. For millions of Americans (and not merely white Americans) this slow reminder of the humanity of black Americans de-stigmatizes and expands the reductive monolithing of 14% of our population away from stereotypes and into the homes of people far less likely to encounter blacks in their communities.

Contrary to the concept that America is fundamentally racist, I'd argue we are fundamentally segregated. The flyover states with the majority of Americans unexperienced in the multicultural experiment (Iowa, Kansas, Arizona, Maine, Nebraska, Utah, both Dakotas, Vermont—all of which have less than five percent of the entire state population who are black) are populated with people who watch movies and television.

These folks who have little contact with black Americans on a daily basis have representation in their theaters and homes every weekend and every night. They spend their money (but more crucially, their time) watching The Protege, Candyman, Summer of Soul, Escape Room: Tournament of Champions and All American, Insecure, The Chi, and The Equalizer. This is significant and, while foments often glacial changes in attitudes and mores, grows a deeper understanding and empathy with every viewing.

Which brings us to the MCU. Arguably a juggernaut built upon the successes of white male protagonists as the MCU has gained in worldwide popularity and influence so has Kevin Feige's commitment to expanding those cultural boundaries with increased inclusion. Black Panther is far from the best Marvel movie or even comic book movie in existence but it was a cultural moment that a major studio had never before created.

Sure, whole communities of black people buying out theaters so that black children could celebrate seeing heroes who looked like them was significant but more significant was that millions of white fanboys watched an all-black cast in a movie that included Afro-futurism and incredibly badass black women at its core play out in their backyards.

The Master of Kung Fu

Shang-Chi was created by writer Steve Englehart and artist Jim Starlin, debuting in Special Marvel Edition #15 in 1972. Created as a response to huge television success of Kung Fu, the character was originally known as the son of Fu Manchu and, when the rights to that character were denied, became the son of Xu Wenwu, the Mandarin. At one point, he was a part of Heroes for Hire which featured both Iron Fist and Luke Cage.

It is notable that the genius of Marvel is in connecting the past with the coming Phase 4 whether by intention or retroactively. The Ten Rings army was responsible for kidnapping Tony Stark way back in 2008. Jumping ahead to Iron Man 3 we meet Trevor Slattery, the fake Mandarin and then a Marvel One Shot that shows Slattery kidnapped from prison to meet Xu Wenwu. All in set-up for the latest MCU addition.

More like Thor than the typical origin film, Shang-Chi dumps right in the middle of things. The movie begins with the backstory of Xu Wenwu (Tony Leung)—narrated entirely in Mandarin Chinese by Jiang Li (Fala Chen)—and his possession of the ten rings. In the comic books the rings were on his fingers with each designated with a power. Now, they're more like martial arts practice rings, five on each arm and capable of pretty much anything the special effects team could come up.

Then we meet Shang-Chi (Simu Liu) and his friend, Katy (Awkwafina). The two are a winning combination and, wonderfully, are not romantically involved. Parking cars by day, singing karaoke by night until, on a San Francisco bus, the Ten Rings gang (lead by a giant white dude with a laser sword for a right hand) attack him for a pendant left by his deceased mother.

Shang-Chi doesn't need those magical rings to completely kick ass—he is the Master of Kung Fu without them. The sequence is fun, fast, clean, and ends with Katy contributing to the graces of saving an entire bus load of citizens while Shang beats the shit out of the thugs.

And off we go. A Macau fighting club run by his sister that is like an underground MMA for magical beings. An escape on the side of a building fighting ninjas. Some flashbacks informing the secret city behind the trees where his mom came from and how Shang became the warrior he is at the hands of his father. A water map on the floor. Sir Ben Kingsley and a faceless furry with wings. More backstory. Two dragons. A showdown. An arrow. Two end credit scenes.

It's a fucking Marvel movie, after all.

The lengths the director (Destin Daniel Cretton) goes to find authenticity in everything from language, customs, and dress to be a fully realized Asian American film as well as a superhero ride is laudable. His treatment of Xu Wenwu is one more in a chain of villains who seem less villainess and more driven by sorrow or justifiable rage.

Early MCU baddies were nuts. The Red Skull (power hungry madman), Obadiah Stane (power hungry madman), Malekith (power hungry Dark Elf madman), Ronan (power hungry...you get the picture). More recently, the MCU is moving away from the Good vs. Evil narratives and presenting a more complicated version of opposing forces in the universe.

Thanos, while a genocidal monster, was still persuasive in some way. Not the insane, cackling lunatic one would naturally associate with villainy but a being with a sense of purpose who does not see himself to be the bad guy. Kilmonger from Black Panther is the same—his rage is justified and only his means are nefarious. Xu Wenwu is less an evil warlord and more a grieving widower weary of conquest and unable to connect with his children.

Making even the master criminal relatable while simultaneously rooting for the hero is no small feat. It demonstrates a complexity of thought and perspective one would not expect from superhero movies and represents opportunities for the discussion of who our bad guys are in the non-cinematic world.

Combining that sophistication with an increasing diversity in who are the heroes—black, Asian, Latina—makes everyone relatable.

That's the crux of the foothold pop culture has on change. Make everyone relatable and even the kid in Kansas who has only known the two Korean kids in his class can find purchase of the magnificent multicultural country we continue to forge.

#Shang-Chi

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hanadanmin · 3 years

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Rise Of The Ottoman

I was going to skip this but unfortunately i watched Roman Empire docudrama and got bored by it, and then i realize... i must give a review to one of the best docu-drama i have ever watched.

Docudrama is a genre of documentary (film, series, etc) which features dramatized re-enactments of actual events. In docudrama they interviewed a few experts who would give us the explanation of what happened in the real events, and then they would show us the visualization. Most of docudramas did this lazy re-enactment of the real events with cheap actors & actresses, mediocre sets & mostly low-budgets props. Roman Empire is the example of a lazy docudrama. They used same shots over and over, they would replace the dialogue with experts explanation voice-over and boring camera angles. The actors made it worse by giving a mediocre performance. That "amazement" towards Julius Caesar and Commodus were reduced to zero. But then, Rise of The Ottoman came.

Rise of The Ottoman is a Docudrama produced by Turkish film makers. To my amazement, they casted Turks, even when the dialogue in english (as it is produced by Netflix). It is better compared to using Americans (as usually done by Hollywood), and oh boy... even when they use Turks, they managed to cast great actors & actresses. Their acting quality are so good, i actually thought they were Americans/british. So yeah, cast was the main reason why i cherish the characters on this show, especially the one who plays the protagonist, Sultan Mehmed II. I just found out he is a regular tv drama actor in turkish TV. His name is Cem Yigit.

I believe the producers did a wonderful job on casting Cem Yigit. He is so charismatic, like... we know that Mehmed II is a young boy when he took the throne. He was just a boy but they need to give Mehmed II this charisma that can be seen by the audiences, and Cem Yigit did a wonderful job on giving us that. We can see how complex Sultan Mehmed II was, how ambitious, religious, genius, patience and brave he was through Cem Yigit and that was a really hard thing to do, especially when Sultan Mehmed II is a real figure & important person in Turkey. Not only him, the actors who portrayed Zaganos Pasha, Halil Pasha, Giovanni, Konstantinus, Loukas and Mara did a very great job on portraying their characters. We can see how each of them have their own colour & charisma. We can easily distinguish them from each other in only 6 episode. I feel like i was sucked in to their world.

Ottoman empire were often depicted as an empire with lots of colour here and there due to their islamic background. Golden accessories, green silk and red robe were mostly present at many Sultan Mehmed themed drama. However, Rise of The Ottoman tried something... new. Instead of following the custom, they tried to give the Netflix something that they has already familiar with.

When we talked about conquest and thrones, we instantly think about Game of Thrones. You can see how they tried to recreate GoT from every techincal aspect. They use this huge westernish robe, and use darker colours for Sultan & his Pashas. Even Sultan Mehmed looked like Robb Stark. They certainly used Robb Stark for Sultan Mehmed's look reference. It might not be historically accurate but it is certainly giving us this GoT character vibes. And it succeeded on captivating international audiences, compared to past Mehmed II dramas.

The props were amazing as well. Also, really GoT-ish. Everything is just dark... but not look that cheap compared to Roman Empire. Especially the locations... maybe because they shot this show in Turkey, like... the real place of Konstantinopel. By the way.... HOW DID THEY MANAGE TO MAKE A BASILICA, THATS AFSGSJDLSLHSJDKSL AMAZING. Yeah, i know it's only props but... damn i am impressed.

But as a film student, i have to pin point the aspects that are crucial when creating an atmosphere : Camera, Lighting, Music, Editing and finally, the most covenantional aspect, the dialogue.

The cinematography reminds me of war movies. The angles and the details of every shots were exceptional. It doesn't feel like a docudrama because of the cinematography. The lighting feels as if they only used available lighting. The editing also doesn't feel repetitive or slow either. I hardly see any scenes with slow motion effect except when it is really necessary. Roman Empire used slow motion to make rooms for the long narration, as if they only got a few shot stocks and it bored me. Meanwhile slow motion in Ottoman were only use when they need to give dramatization to some scenes (such as when Mehmed II walked on the field the day before the Siege began to give us a glimpse on how Mehmed feel walking on the field where his ancestors once defeated by the romans, etc)

The composer did a tremendous job at creating atmosphere on the siege scenes, although i realize everytime Mehmed is on the screen, they gave us this chilling music as if he's a menacing figure. Like i know he's stubborn and ambitious but the music gave me a lil bit of impressions that he's on the "evil" side. This brings us to dialogue. I saw how they choose words for every character on this show. Konstantinus rarely spoke any bad or harsh words. It bothers me because you can see how they gave Mehmed this "barbaric" dialogue such as : "you treacherous dog,", meanwhile I barely see the romans speak with such dialogue. Not to mention the editing. After Mehmed II forced Obran to fire an unstable Basilica, they showed how Giovanni went to slums to see the romans who are wounded. It gave this impression that Mehmed II doesn't care about his soldier, that he only care about conquering Constantinople. I have to thank the experts on giving only the best side of Mehmed in their interviews, because if people only watched the drama, i bet they could easily thought of Mehmed as an evil figure. You know, a terrorist kind of figure (since he's also a muslim). Even so, most of the audiences realize that this docudrama is a lil bit biased because it is owned by Netflix, like... not surprising really.

But from the story aspect, i gave a 5 stars for this show. I just love how they try to focus on his conquest instead of giving too much about his romance life. They could've give us a glimpse of his marriage, but nope. The producers were really determined on only showing Sultan Mehmed II as the conqueror of Constantinople. I like this part. It makes me wonder whether they would make a second season with Mehmed's wives (yes, more than 2 in fact) and children. Like... i really need it. Badly. With, of course, Cem Yigit as Sultan Mehmed II. I will be disappointed if they choose to replace him.

Anyway, just watch this show and you'll understand why i rave every aspect of this docu drama so much. After that, watch Roman Empire to see how Rise of the Ottoman is far more superior than Roman Empire. Hats off to Turkish film makers!

https://www.netflix.com/us/title/80990771?s=i&trkid=13747225&vlang=en&clip=81168709

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neighbourskid · 3 years

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2020

What a year, huh? Surely not anything anyone has expected to happen when we woke up on this day a year ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m not even sure, now, where to begin to sum up this year like I’ve done years prior. But then again... I may just as well just dive right into all the media I consumed this year, as I have done every year. I haven’t kept track as detailed as I have last year, but my year was definitely punctuated by pieces of entertainment that have come into my life.

Continuing on from 2019, my obsession with Good Omens was still going strong. Which was ideal, since I was gonna spend the first half of the year writing my Bachelor thesis on it. The intensity of the obsession may have waned a bit since, but I still love that show and book dearly and hold it close to my heart, and I don’t think that will ever stop. But while Good Omens was certainly an overall theme throughout my year, there were some other things that actually stood out.

With January came new episodes of Doctor Who, and having returned to that particular bandwagon the year prior, I was all about that. Jodie’s second season finally brought what I had longed for in her first--a darker kind of Doctor. She wasn’t quite as bubbly anymore, you could finally see some of the depths in the character that I loved so in the previous regenerations, which made me love Peter’s Doctor so incredibly much. In this season, I felt, Jodie was finally becoming the Doctor. Overall, that season catered to me personally every single episode. So many of the time periods they visited were of people I loved, and the introduction of Sacha Dhawan as the Master was absolutely....well, masterful. Sacha is brilliant in that role and I am utterly stunned by his talent. Although both John Simm and Michelle Gomez brought things to the Master that I liked, it’s Sacha’s completely unhinged take on it that made me finally like the character. He’s a madman and I love it.

The next major thing was The Good Place. I tend to have a talent of getting into shows just as they either ended their entire show, or the final season is just coming up. It’s happened quite a bit, and it was the same with this. I finally binged the show early in January and it would end its final season at the end of the month. True to form, I was completely obsessed with it for about a month, before I only occasionally thought about it again. But, thinking back now, I get this incredibly fond feeling for this show, and I remember that the finale absolutely wrecked me and I basically ugly sobbed through the entirety of it. Also very true to form, actually. I want to rewatch it again some time, but honestly preferably with someone who has never seen it before. Which, obviously, is a difficult thing to do given, well, everything.

Next up is something that surprised me a lot. In the middle of having to write my BA thesis, my procrastination thought it would be a great idea to rewatch and catch up on the entirety of Criminal Minds. And so I binged 15 seasons of that instead of writing my thesis. Which, coincidentally, had also just aired its final season not long before I started my binge in March. Rewatching this, I realised just how little I took in of the actual, like, stuff in the show when I first watched it as a teen. Although I mostly cared about the characters and their found family this time around--although I do find the cases really fascinating most of the time too--I noticed just how much I am not watching this for the fact that they are in the FBI. I was hyperaware of how often they shot at people before doing anything else, how many of the suspects died before ever being questioned or being brought in, and it made my skin crawl. I am aware how fucked up the criminal justice system is, and especially in the US, how the police functions and how incredibly glorified they are in the media. But rewatching this show, I realised how little I actually paid attention to anything when I was younger. Big yikes. Still, I remembered my love for these characters, and I really enjoyed that rewatch a whole lot. Found family will always get to me.

Once I finished writing my thesis and handed it in early in July, I then found my next momentary obsession: Community. The show had finally come to Netflix earlier in the year and a friend of mine had watched it then. I remember watching that pilot episode back then and being completely uninterested in watching it. The comedy felt like it wasn’t quite up my street, the characters were entirely unlikeable, and I especially disliked Jeff who the show was more or less centred around. I binged Criminal Minds instead, but then decided to give it another try. And, well, I watched it twice through without taking a break to watch something else in-between. Ironically, and maybe actually unsurprisingly, Jeff ended up being my favourite and I found myself relating a lot to him and his arc throughout the series. I even found myself writing some short ficlet-like things in the notes app on my phone. I made an attempt at starting a third watch, but I guess then the month was up, and my brain decided it was time for something else. My hyperfixations usually tend to die out after about a month. Which is why my complete devotion to Good Omens was a pleasant surprise. I did, however, end up watching quite a bit of Joel McHale and Ken Jeong’s The Darkest Timeline podcast throughout August.

Early in September, while already preparing for the new term at uni, and my first semester in my Master’s studies, I then turned to New Girl. Friends of mine had seen it and recommended it, and I remember watching probably the entire first season on TV while I was in San Diego the first time around back in 2016. Or at least I think it was the entire first season. Either way, I binged that whole thing, realised through Nick Miller that the go-to character I am drawn to and tend to project on in any piece of media is usually what I like to call “the garbage man,” which Nick is a prime example of. And although I spent a month watching the show in-between starting university again and volunteering at a film festival, I didn’t spend much time afterward thinking about it and moved on to other things rather quickly. I enjoyed watching it, that much I remember, and I’m pretty sure I cried at the finale because it was done wonderfully, but seeing as another month was up, my brain was probably like “okay fine that’s enough”.

I then spent most of fall and early winter watching every single bad Christmas movie available on Netflix, which was quite fun. In that moment of festivity, I also watched a movie I found absolutely brilliant and fell in love with immediately. It’s a beautiful movie called Jingle Jangle, it has a magnificent soundtrack and is absolutely incredible. I had no idea Forest Whitaker could sing and he completely blew me away. If you haven’t seen it already, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t matter that Christmas is already over, it’s beautiful either way.

By the time December finally rolled around, I was already over the whole Christmas thing, to be honest and I turned away from festive movies or shows, and eventually ended up finally picking up a gem I had heard much about and had been meaning to watch for a while. A show which, as it were, also aired its final season earlier this year. This little show is Schitt’s Creek. I will be going on about what this show means to me probably in another post at length, but for now just let me say: if you haven’t seen it, find some place to watch it, and put this beautiful show in your eyeballs. I am on my second run through already (although I’ve seen the second half of the show a second time already while watching it with a friend on their first run through), and it brings me so much fucking joy. It’s a gift, this show. And it will likely stay with me for a very, very long time.

That’s about it for the big things. I also watched a whole lot of other stuff, including entirely new things, or just newly released seasons of things I was already watching. Here’s what I can remember off the top of my head:

Charlie’s Angels (2020). The Night Manager. The Witcher. Dolittle (2020). The Librarians (rewatch). Harley Quinn (2020). Sonic the Hedgehog (2020). The Chef Show (S1 part 3, S2 part 1). Avenue 5. Money Heist (part 4). The Good Fight (S4). Brooklyn Nine-Nine (S7). DuckTales (2017 reboot). Frankenstein live. Staged (2020). Hamilton. Sense8. Julie and the Phantoms. The Boys in the Band. One Night in Miami. Enola Holmes. Supernova. His Dark Materials (S2). Happiest Season. The Great Canadian Baking Show.

I also got some reading done in-between what I had to read for my thesis in spring, and then for regular university courses in fall. Here’s some of what I can remember:

Anthony Horowitz, The House of Silk. Ramona Meisel, Sunblind. Donna Tartt, The Secret History. Good Omens novel and script book. Matt Forbeck, Leverage: The Con Job. Keith R.A. Decandido, Leverage: The Zoo Job. Greg Cox, Leverage: The Bestseller Job. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Lost Lamp. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Mother Goose Chase. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Pot of Gold. Neil Gaiman, Marvel 1602. Christina Henry, The Lost Boy. Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology. John Green, An Abundance of Katherines. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh. Maria Konnikova, The Confidence Game.

Having mulled over all this entertainment I consumed in 2020, there are also some non-tv or book things I need to point out. As many, many other people around the globe, I have also spent a large amount of time this year on my Nintendo Switch, playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons. It is a game I have waited for since the Switch was first announced, and I fell in love with it from the moment the first trailer dropped. It has brought me great joy in this weird fucking year, and I have more or less consistently played it since it came out in March. I ended this year with the in-game New Year’s Eve celebration and I feel like that summed up this year quite neatly and appropriately.

This year also brought with it another game very close to my heart: Super Mario Sunshine. With their release of Super Mario 3D All-Stars in September, Nintendo finally brought my all-time favourite Mario game to my all-time favourite console, and I played the entire game through in the first week of owning it, in-between university courses and volunteering at the film festival. Also contained in that package was Super Mario Galaxy which I have also played through in its entirety since. All that’s left for me now is Super Mario 64, which I am excited to play through in the coming year.

And to round off my year of entertainment, there are two more things I would like to mention. First, David Tennant Does A Podcast With..., which released its second season this summer. It is one of the only, if not the only podcast I keep up to date with and listen to immediately whenever a new episode drops. I’ve loved the first season dearly, and David came back with some incredibly fantastic guests for the second season as well. I can’t wait for what the podcast will bring in the future, but I will wait patiently until it is time. I can highly recommend it for everyone who likes interesting conversations between lovely people who clearly adore each other a whole lot.

And finally, while this year brought a whole lot of bullshit with it, it also gave me something I never thought possible and did not even dare to imagine in my wildest dreams. My all-time favourite show announced that it would be rebooted with the same main cast (minus one), a new wonderful member, and involvement of the original creators, and even started filming already in summer. Leverage is coming back. I still cannot believe it. I hoped for a movie, always. That maybe one day, they might bring the gang back together, for one last job, just one more encore. But to get a whole new tv-show with Aldis, Christian, Gina and Beth returning? With the addition of Noah Wyle? I can’t wrap my head around it. I am so excited for this. I predict that I will ugly sob through the entirety of the pilot episode, if not the first season, and will have to rewatch every episode because of it, but I have no doubt that it will be brilliant and wonderful.

True to form, I have now gone on about tv shows and movies for far too long, and haven’t really said anything about this year at all. 2020 was fucking weird. And I don’t think 2021 will be much different quite yet. I wrote an entire BA thesis in 2020. I successfully finished by Bachelor’s degree and started my Master’s studies and even got some excellent first grades in as well. I was lucky enough to be able to see some friends and family throughout the year, and even celebrate my birthday with a small circle of friends. I’ve become closer with friends, shared experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world, and, I think, maybe also grown a bit as a person.

I started this year excited to finally be able to start taking testosterone in February, and to finish the first part of my studies by summer. Although I did both of these things, they didn’t happen quite how I imagined them, but I am glad that I could do these things nevertheless.

2020 was a hell year, for sure. But there were some moments in there that I wouldn’t want to lose.

I’ve tried very hard to not be optimistic about this upcoming year, and rather take a more realistic, even pessimistic approach. But I can’t help but be hopeful. Hopeful that this year will be kind to us, and if it isn’t, that at least, we’ll be kind to ourselves and each other. It won’t be easy, and not much will change, I think. But we have to approach the coming time with kindness and compassion. That’s where I’m at currently. And I think that’s all for now.

Be well, friends, and take care.

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one-shot-plus-size · 3 years

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Home is where the heart is. Part 6.

Imagine : Clayton Cardenas meets Olivia Mazru, who is on vacation in the USA for the first time.

Chapters: 6/10

Each of the 7 chapters will cover 3 days of Olivia’s vacation, and 3 chapters will cover the time after returning home.

Part 5

Clayton took her for breakfast and then for a walk to Central Park. Their hands were all the time intertwined, they walked through the green area. All the time his hand embraced her, his thumb gently smoothed her skin. At noon, they took the food out of the pub and settled on the grass in the quietest part of the park - Sheep Meadow.

- And how do you like it? - Clayton was looking at her pushing pasta into her mouth.

- I am not used to such noise, you know I live in the countryside. In a small house in the forest, I have a garden and a sacred peace. This city is vibrant with life, it also has its charm. But in the long run it would be tiresome - she smiled at it, putting a little shrimp in her mouth.

- How is it where you live ? - he rested his hands on his knees.

- I have a beautiful little house made of wood. I built it myself, my colleague is an architect. She helped me to put on paper what I had in my head, then she adjusted it to the building conditions in the area. The family helped me with the construction and in about two years my dream places were created. - She was looking at it.

His eyebrows reached the hairline, he was surprised how resourceful it was.

- I don't care about the picture - she pulled the phone out of her pocket.

She searched the photo gallery on the phone until she found this one picture of her house. She turned the device in his direction, Clay looked at the photo.

- This is a photo a few days after the construction and cleaning up of the site. Now I have an access road, I've given myself a place where I park my car. A friend helped me to make a terrace at the back of the house and a porch in front.

- I will be honest, right ? - He was looking at it.

- Sure - she nodded her head blocking the device and putting it away.

- Marry me - he laughed - he has lived in this world for 33 years and I have never met such a resourceful and overwhelming woman as you. You have your own company, you work on a full-time basis and you have built a house with your own hands. I am in shock, the guy you give your heart to will be the happiest guy in the world.

She snorted under her nose and twisted her head.

- Poland is not like the United States. In my country, people like me are somewhat excluded. Maybe not excluded but more unwanted. There, people with colorful hair, numerous earrings and quite a lot of overweight are different, avoided. Guys want beautiful women, slim with normal hair color. Well I don't fit in, I've never been like most people and never will be. My introverted character doesn't help to meet new people. Some time ago I realized that I want to live on my own terms. This is my life, I am what I am and nobody can dictate my conditions. - She looked at it - I'm sorry, I'm talking nonsense.

Clayton was staring into the space in front of him, holding a box of food in his hands. His eyebrows were wrinkled in thought.

- You don't say stupidity, people can be cruel without any reason. And how you handled all this is admirable. Wear yourself proud, because you deserve it - He leaned slightly and wet her on the cheek.

- Thanks - she blushed.

After the meal they lay down on the grass and talked about everything and nothing concrete. They simply enjoyed their company. After resting they went to METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART.

- Do you want coffee? - Clay stood before her.

- With milk, please - she smiled and sat on the stairs.

- Good - he nodded his head.

He put his hands on her knees and leaned on them. He leaned down and kissed her a little bit harder first. Her hand rested on his cheek and smiled slightly. He broke away from her, cmocked her in the forehead and went to the coffee shop. Olivia ran her thumb over her mouth and smiled like a fool.

- It's good to be in love - a voice was heard behind her.

She turned around behind her, saw a middle-aged woman with a smile from ear to ear.

- That boy of yours must love you - she looked at him - you can see it from people, I used to be like that too. Please nurture love is the most important thing in your life.

- Thank you - she smiled slightly.

She turned her head when Clayton ordered coffee. She looked at him, his ass was perfectly exposed by dark jeans. The horizontal line shirt emphasized his shoulder muscles and slim figure well. Hair in total disorder added to his charm, he turned to her as if feeling her gaze. He smiled widely and returned to the woman in the booth with his gaze. When he smiled on his cheeks two sweet bouquets were formed on his cheeks like in small, plump children. The smile was spreading all over his face, he looked so charming then. She smiled to herself and let her head down. She wanted to have such a guy with her, all her co-workers' jaws would fall down. After a few moments, Clay fell down next to her giving her a cup of coffee.

- Thanks - she nodded her head.

She looked at the streets and the cars driving around, this city was really bustling with life. Crowds of people were walking the streets, people were hurrying. Businessmen in well-cut suits, women in perfect suits. Everyone was in a hurry, chasing for money. For a fortune which, after death, will be of no use to any of us. But each of us had different priorities in life, each of us wanted to experience them differently.

- What are you so proud of? - Clay poked her on the shoulder.

- Nothing concrete.

He nodded his head slightly and stared at the space in front of him.

- When do you start recording the second season of Mayan's MC?

- In just over a month we start working on the set.

- Cool, I watched all seasons of Sons of Anarchy on Netflix when I worked at home for some time. I was absorbed by this series endlessly, Kurt Sutter did a good job.

- Have you watched us? - He looked at her - in the sense of Mayan's MC?

- Of course I did - she was nodding her head - a bit illegal, but I had no other choice.

- Oh - he laughed.

- You know, in my country there is no such access to series and films as here. Sometimes you have to exercise yourself to get over something.

- He promises you that when we record the second season he will send you records with episodes so you don't have to break the law - he laughed.

- I take your word for it - she patted it on the shoulder.

- SAMCRO's favorite character?

- Chibs - she laughed.

- Why ? - He was drinking coffee by peeking at it.

- Throughout the whole series he probably went through the biggest change, even though he was broken so many times, he was hurt so much, he was still such a wicked Scotsman. Then I guess Jackson didn't quite understand the ending, but after a while I know that he was just being eaten by remorse.

- And at Mayan's?

- Honestly it's hard to say, this is only the first season, it's not known how the characters will develop. But if I were to say now it would probably be either Bishop or a young part of the club. Bishop because he emanates such strength, decisiveness and power. And young because there is a great relationship and interaction between them. Your role of Angela Reyes is really cool, you play him great.

- Thanks - he blushed on his cheeks.

- You play really well, you are talented.

- That's enough or I'll blush.

- Too late - she laughed.

- Shut up - he snorted at her.

She leaned her chin against his shoulder. He looked at her and smiled slightly.

- So where are you going to take me today, what?

- What would you like to see? - He finished his coffee.

- I was planning a Time Squer in the evening.

- So we will go there - he nodded his head - any more special wishes ?

- I guess not for today anymore, but I will come up with something for tomorrow.

- How about if he plans a great day tomorrow, then we'll go to dinner in the evening. And we will spend the next day in bed ? You're out in a few days, and I'd like to give you some more pleasure.

He noticed how he bites his lower lip.

- If you want to, of course - he added quietly.

Olivia put the coffee mug on the step between her legs, grabbed Clayton's beard and turned his face in her direction. She dipped him in the mouth without taking the look away from him.

- She wanted to - she smiled slightly.

He leaned harder towards her, nudged her nose and kissed her lightly. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste of her as she opened her lips, he entered them with his tongue. He broke away from her and looked around him biting his lower lip.

- Come on - he squinted and rose.

He dragged her behind him to the Museum building, walked quickly to the ticket offices.

- Can we use the toilet? My girlfriend wants to pee terribly - he gave the cashier his company smile.

- You have to buy the tickets - the cashier did not even look at them.

Clayton snorted under his nose, took the amount deducted to the counter. Then he dragged Olivia to the bathrooms.

- What are you doing? - She followed him.

- You'll see - He pushed her into the bathroom.

He looked around again and followed her into the room. He locked the door behind him, pressed her firmly against the wall and kissed her. A moan came out of her mouth when he rolled his hips into her. She felt his penis pressed against his pants, her hand slipped down on his crotch. She rubbed them a few times, and he broke away from her. He leaned his forehead against her forehead and moaned.

- Do you like to do this in a public place ? - she looked into his eyes.

He smiled wide, his hands slipped on her pants. He unbuttoned them and slid his hand into her panties, he felt how wet it was. He slipped his fingers inside her, she moaned in his ear. He moved them strongly and quickly, stabbed his teeth in her neck.

- Clay...- she moaned constantly.

- Come on, baby - he whispered in her ear - he feels you clench, come on my toes. And I'll give you what you need.

He moved faster and faster, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. When she had an orgasm, she stuck her teeth into his shoulder, and he hissed. He pulled his fingers out of it and put them in his mouth, stared at her eyes.

- You taste so good - he muttered.

She grabbed his hand, slipped her fingers into her mouth. She braided them with her tongue and kept eye contact with him all the time.

- Enough - he muttered.

He grabbed her ass and led her to the sink, on which he had planted her before taking off her pants. When he kissed her, she was getting to him. She unfastened his belt buckle, button and lock. He helped slide them down to his knees together with the boxers. She embraced him with her hand and moved him several times.

- Fuck - he leaned his forehead against her shoulder.

She braided him with her legs at the waist and attracted to herself. He moved his penis along her entrance, irritated her for a while, and then finally went deep into her.

- If they catch us it will burn - she moaned.

- A note of adrenaline - he laughed.

He did not brake, they did it quickly. Initially she was worried that someone might catch them having sex in the Museum bathroom, but as the pleasure grew, she did not care. She was sticking her teeth into his shoulder when she had a second orgasm, Clayton needed a longer time to come. He stabbed his face in her neck and grunted when he was falling down inside her. Olivia was smoothing his hair while he calmed his breath, raised his head slightly. He wetted her in the mouth and slipped out of her. First he wiped himself and packed into his boxers and pants and then cleaned her up. With a soaked towel, he helped her put on her underwear and pants. He pushed her to the door for a while and kissed her deeply.

- You are the first woman I have done such a thing with - he smiled at her mouth.

- I am usually not like that.

- Usually you are polite and laid out ? - she improved herself in the mirror.

- So that you know - he nodded his head.

He opened the door, slid his head through the door and looked around the hallway. When he saw that nobody was there, he pulled Olivia out of the room.

- I won't believe you are a good boy - she laughed following him.

Part 7

#Clayton Cardenas #Mayans MC #Mayans fandom #Love #Olivia

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saysomethingspiderman · 4 years

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Something Wonderful (PT.6)

Synopsis: During your time as a professional photographer, you had come across incredibly good looking men, but there was just something about Tom that stood out. Who would have thought shooting the self-titled “walking meme” would change your life forever?

Chapter word count: 4.7k

Warning: SMUT (I tried)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight

Happiness was simply an understatement to describe how being with Tom made you feel; elated, euphoric, intoxicated was more like it. Tom brought out a warmth in you that you weren’t even aware you had. Every time he smiled, laughed or simply looked your way your heart melted. You couldn’t dream of spending your time with anyone else. Ever since that (incredibly) short conversation about what your relationship actually was, you had barely left his place. It quickly became your safe place; the one place you felt truly comfortable.

Tom had a fairly busy few weeks filled with interviews, photoshoots and meetings, though luckily he stayed based in London and gave you one of his spare keys for the times he was out all day. His reasoning was for you to keep Tessa company since Harrison was away for a few weeks on holiday with his family, but he struggled to hide the way his entire face lit up every time he saw you curled up on the couch whenever he got home after a long day. He would then usually shower to get off the remnants of makeup he had on his face and squeeze on the couch with you for a cuddle. It was easy and comfortable and felt so right. How could a relationship be so effortless?

“You know what we’ve still not actually done yet?” Tom asked one particular cosy night. He pulled his attention away from the TV and gave you an almost shy smile as he shuffled to sit up a little, disrupting your sleepy state; until that moment, you’d been set on the idea of falling asleep against his chest, but clearly Tom had other ideas. “We haven’t gone on a real date. One where we’re not off our faces on shots or having to rush because one of us has to get back to work. I want to take you out on a proper date where we can dress up and go out for a nice meal and not have to think about anything else.”

It was true. There had been the breakfast date and road trip when you were both back in the States, but other than that there hadn’t been another occasion. You’d both been pretty busy, more Tom than you. Tom was still promoting the film and when he got any down time during the day, you were usually busy with work and deadlines. Your nights tended to end like tonight; wrapped up in a blanket with Tom on the couch and Tessa at your feet, both too tired from the day to actually do anything other than watch Netflix. It was nice to wind down together and simply enjoy each other's company. The kissing was just an added bonus. But Tom was still right: you had yet to go on a real date.

“Okay, well we’re both free tomorrow night,” you replied and reached up to push your favourite curl from his forehead. “Since it was your idea, it’s up to you to find the restaurant. No pressure or anything. Just don’t try too hard or make it obvious that you’re trying to woo me, don’t want to give the game away.”

“Woo you?” he repeated with a snort. He shook his head and caught your hand in his, then pressed his lips to your palm. Your skin tingled at the touch. “I didn’t know my girlfriend was an old woman at heart.”

“Well surprises come in all shapes and sizes,” you said with a grin and squealed with he reached around to tickle your side gently, though he quickly released you to rest his hand on your hip as he relaxed again.

“I think I’ve got somewhere in mind, but I might have to pull the celebrity card to get a reservation for tomorrow,” he said, absently stroking the bit of skin just above your jeans. “I’ll get it sorted. We’ll book it for about eight so I’ve got plenty of time in case my interviews run late.” His hand slid up your side and to your back where he started to play with the ends of your hair, something which had recently become his favourite pastime.

“Well you sort all that out and I’ll just worry about making myself look pretty.”

If you weren’t already looking at Tom, you still would have known he rolled his eyes. “Darling, you could wear a potato sack and you’d still be the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

The tenderness of his voice and the kiss he pressed to your forehead made you melt. You looked up at him with a soft smile, your cheeks a flushed, flaming red. His compliments were something you never tired of hearing. With a small shuffle, you leaned in to kiss him tenderly. When you began to pull away, Tom tightened his grip around your body and held you flush against his own. His tongue slipped past your lips and you welcomed him with a barely audible gasp. He smirked into the kiss and ran his hands down along your back before taking a firm hold of your bum, groaning deeply at the feel of the flesh in his hands. A low growl was heard, catching you off guard. He’d never made that noise before and you weren’t sure how it made you feel. Tom seemed to be thinking along the same lines, assuming the noise came from you. A small pout appeared on your lips when he pulled away slightly. Another growl came. Tom huffed and rolled his eyes, then looked over to the left.

Tessa looked over at you both from the end of the couch, watching intently. She growled yet again.

“Don’t like being a third wheel, huh, Tess?” Tom sighed. He gave you a light peck on the lips before sitting up properly on the couch to detangle himself from your limbs. When he noticed your pout had gotten bigger, he laughed and kissed your cheek, then whispered into your ear, “Tomorrow. I promise.” His voice was low and full of desire. “We’ll have no interruptions and, most importantly, no one to cock block.”

True to his word, Tom booked one of the more fancier restaurants in London. You knew it was fancy because you had to Google near enough everything on the online menu just to actually know what it was. While Tom spent the day traveling all over the city for different work commitments, you spent the morning in town searching for the perfect outfit. None of the clothes you already had were suitable and frankly you just fancied treating yourself. For hours you searched through what felt like hundreds of shops. Your feet hurt, you had a headache, and the majority of people bustling around the city were winding you up. Then in what you promised yourself was the last shop, you found the dress. The silky, dark green material fit like a glove, hugging all your curves in a way you knew would drive Tom crazy. It fell just over your knees, making your legs look longer.

You took extra time getting ready that night. You curled your hair loosely and applied your makeup carefully, deciding on a smokey eye and a nude lipstick to make your lips look more plump. For some reason you were nervous, at least more so than you should have been considering your relationship was already set. What was there to be worried about?

As it began to near half past seven, you slipped on the dress and found a pair of nude heels to match. You hadn’t spoken to Tom that much throughout the day because you knew how busy he was, but he’d told you he would pick you up at half past. As though he’d waited for the clock to turn, at half seven on the dot you got a text to say he was outside. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror and ruffled your hair to make it a little messy, then hurried out of the flat, ignoring Olivia’s shout to use protection.

“You, my darling, are fucking beautiful,” Tom grinned when you slid into the front of his car next to him. He looked you up and down and then leaned over for a kiss. “You look stunning.”

“I don’t look even half as good as you,” you replied, wiping your lipstick away from his top lip where it had smudged. The tight shirt showed off his muscles on his chest and arms. Oh those arms.

“You’re beautiful,” Tom told you and stopped you making another comment by giving you another kiss.

On the drive over to the restaurant, he caught you up on his day. You loved hearing stories about what it was like behind the scenes. Although you’d met many people through work in Tom’s position, you’d never really understood what it was like to be under the spotlight. He told you all about who he’d been interviewed by that day and how much easier and relaxed he felt when he was joined by other cast members rather than have to go through the questions alone; it was much easier to wiggle out of uncomfortable questions when he had backup.

“We’re all going out for dinner one night when we’re done with all the press stuff,” Tom told you as he pulled up outside the restaurant where a valet stood waiting to park the car. “I keep meaning to ask if you’ll come, but my memory turns into a sieve when I’ve got so much on.” He got out of the car, handed the valet his keys, then came around your side to help you out with a big, cheeky grin on his face. That kind of thing wasn’t something you expected or necessarily wanted, but Tom just couldn’t help himself.

“I’d love to come with you. You never know, maybe I’ll get lucky with Jake,” you replied with a hopeful and exaggerated sigh.

“Not if I beat you to it,” he snorted and took a hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and led you into the restaurant.

The lights were turned down low and a small band played jazz music over in the far corner of the large room, casting an incredibly romantic aura around you. Per Tom’s request, you were taken to one of the tables towards the back for a little bit more privacy, though with a perfect view of the band. Red wine was ordered (a small glass for Tom as he was driving) and you couldn’t help but giggle when you tapped your glasses together to celebrate finally making it out on your first proper date.

“I told Mum and Dad about us the other day,” you said when the starters arrived. You ripped apart a small piece of bread to start dipping into your soup. “I’ve never seen Mum so excited over anything before in my whole life.”

“And what was your dad’s reaction?” Tom questioned. It was clear he was nervous about the man’s feelings towards him, which was understandable because the two had still yet to meet.

You gave a shrug of a shoulder and quickly wiped the corner of your mouth where the soup had spilled. “Typical dad reaction, I suppose. He got protective, though I could tell he was only pretending, and just started asking questions about you. Nothing too dramatic. I mean, Dad’s just one of those parents who’s happy if I’m happy. I just know how embarrassing he’ll be, though, when he finally meets you. More embarrassing than Mum, that’s for sure.”

“Your mum wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, because you met her for about five minutes before I saved you.”

“Wait until you meet mine,” Tom chuckled and took a sip of his wine. “It’s like she always carries baby pictures of us around all the time just waiting for the perfect moment to whip them out. Not even kidding, the first time I introduced her to Downey, it wasn’t even five minutes before she pulled a picture of me in my old Spidey baby suit!”

You laughed softly and shook your head, holding your hand to your chest. “You had a baby Spider-Man costume? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever imagined anything cuter!”

Tom’s cheeks reddened. He cast a shy smile over at you and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. “Yeah, well I guess I was born for the part,” he smirked with a shrug of a shoulder.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone doing a better job at it,” you told him sincerely and the soft look that appeared on his face made it clear how much those words meant to him. There were many things that Tom was that you simply adored and being passionate about his job was right up there towards the top of the list. Being Spider-Man meant so much to him and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, both for himself and for fans of the whole Marvel franchise.

Throughout the meal, the two of you laughed like you were the only ones in the room. All hell could have broken loose in the restaurant but neither of you would have noticed because you were just enjoying each other’s company. You realised one of your favourite things to do was make him laugh; it was a gorgeous sound that you’d never get sick of. When the bill was paid, Tom decided to leave his car for now and you walked hand in hand to a cocktail bar not too far away.

“So go on,” you said when you settled down in a little booth in the bar with a bright orange cocktail in your hand. You leaned into Tom’s side comfortably and he placed a hand on your knee, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb. “Tell me one thing no one else knows. Not even your brothers or even Harrison,” you continued and gave a cheeky grin.

Tom laughed and shook his head, then took a gulp of his water as though preparing himself. But he shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much they don’t know, especially Haz. Fucking hell, he probably knows more about what I’ve been up to than I know myself.” He leaned back in the seat as he thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ve got something, but you have to promise you can’t breathe a word to anyone,” he said and leaned back towards you again, face just inches from yours.

“Okay, I promise,” you smiled and tilted your head a little higher to steal a kiss. As well as his laugh, his kisses were at the top of your list of favourite things about him.

“I mean it, babe,” he said, voice low. It sent shivers along your spine and goosebumps appeared on your arms and legs. A glint appeared in Tom’s eye and he squeezed your knee. Then, wanting to test your reaction, slid his hand slowly along the outside of your thigh, pushing your dress up along with it. “You’ve to promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he repeated in a whisper, pressing his forehead to yours.

All you could do was give a nod. You were barely listening to him now, your focus solely on his hand on your leg and the burning feeling his fingers left on your skin. Your eyes fluttered close as he leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. His lips were so close, his breath tickling you.

“The day we met,” he started and brushed a piece of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear, “I actually had a date that night.”

“Oh, well how lovely. That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I wanted something juicy or a story about a wank gone wrong or something.”

Tom chuckled softly and shook his head. “I didn’t tell anyone because the guys make a big deal out of things like that sometimes. But yeah, I don’t even think it was half an hour after meeting you that I cancelled it. I didn’t…” He paused, gave a small smile and then kissed you chastely. “I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

You pretended to throw up into your drink and laughed when he pushed his hand further under your dress to grab a hold of your bum. “You, Mr Holland, are a very cheeky boy,” you giggled, placing your own hand on his chest to fiddle with the small buttons on his shirt. “But just so you know, I’m fucking glad you cancelled.”

“You know what? So am I.”

You weren’t sure how fast it happened or which one of you made the first move, but in what felt like no time at all, you’d downed the rest of your drink, driven back to Tom’s and found yourself pressed against the front door of his house after he’d slammed it shut behind you. The door was cold against your back but your skin burned at Tom’s touch. His kiss was hungry and hurried, as though it would be his last time tasting you. His hands grabbed at your waist, your hips, anywhere he could, and hurriedly pushed your dress up, not giving a care in the world if it ripped.

“Careful,” you managed to whisper as his lips moved to your neck. His hands were everywhere, touching as much of your skin as he could, yet it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Taking charge, you firmly took a hold of his hands and, seeing his suddenly confused expression plastered across his face, moved away to lead him to the bedroom, letting your dress fall back down your legs on the way to hide the bum he adored so much.

“I swear, if Tessa ruins this for us again, I’ll throw away her box of treats,” Tom muttered grumpily, eyes fixated on how the dress clung perfectly, almost tauntingly, to your backside.

“Oh we both know you’d never be so cruel,” you smirked, glancing back at him over your shoulder. You caught him admiring your bum and raised a brow. “Spot something you like?”

“Oh yeah, very much!” Tom looked up and gave a great, big, childish grin.

It was as though stepping through the doorway into Tom’s bedroom suddenly intensified the nervousness you’d been feeling before the date. You’d both been happy in your relationship and you knew eventually it would lead to this, but now you stood in his room in your crinkled dress that Tom had struggled not to rip off you, it felt incredibly real. This was really happening. You turned and saw Tom watching you from the doorway. He gave a smile.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, sensing your hesitation. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Oh believe me, I want to,” you replied and your face flushed at how excited he looked. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

With a shake of his head, Tom moved closer and cupped your face in his gentle hands. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Darling, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

You were being irrational, you knew it. He was right, there was nothing to worry about because you were with him. You weren’t exactly new to this but it had been a while. The softness of his voice made you look up and you slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck as you pulled him closer. The kiss was soft and slow but the lust very quickly took over. All nervousness was forgotten. His hands held your waist and he pushed you back towards the bed, resting himself on top of you when you fell down onto the mattress. His fingers skimmed the skin on your thigh, making you shiver, and he pushed your dress further up, bunching it in his fist on your hip, struggling to control himself and not destroy it. You pressed against his shoulders, moving so you were on top, straddling his hips as you deepened the kiss, tongues tracing over each other’s lips.

When your breath started coming out faster and the heat began to build up almost uncomfortable in your bodies, you sat up properly and bunched your dress up to pull it off. Tom’s face was a glorious sight. He swallowed thickly as his hungry eyes took every inch of you in, eventually settling on your bare breasts.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Tom moaned and roughly pulled you back down, hands running over your back as he kissed your neck, leaving his mark.

You tugged at his shirt and he sat up enough to swiftly tug it off, tossing it to the other side of the room. His lips found yours again and he pressed you flush against his chest, skin touching skin. You kissed along his shoulder, nibbling and licking and sucking gently. His soft moan vibrated through his chest and you smirked, though it quickly turned into a moan of your own when his hands moved to cup your breasts and he took a nipple in his mouth.

He pushed you back onto the bed and kissed along your breasts and down your body until he reached the lacy edge of the thong you wore specially for tonight. A heavy sigh came from him and he looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Well get on with it,” you teased. You chewed your lower lip at the sight of him, his hair ruffled and cheeks slightly flushed. His made your knees weak.

Tom pushed aside the elastic, kissing the flesh he’d revealed, and a shiver shook your body. You moaned impatiently, and his restraint slipped. He pulled your thong down a little rougher than intended and groaned deeply, seeing the shining wetness of your core. He kissed your inner thigh and slid his fingers along between your lips, feeling the dampness. Hearing your whimper, he slowly slipped two fingers into you.

“Christ, you’re soaking,” Tom whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

His fingers were gentle and slow. He moved back up your body to kiss you. You moaned softly against his lips as he moved his fingers faster, smoothing his thumb over your clit. You rocked your hips against him and pulled him closer, grabbing at his hair and pulling on the curly strands. He pressed harder against your clit and tugged on your lower lip with his teeth. You felt yourself getting closer as his fingers curled inside your walls, finding the spot that made stars appear before your eyes.

Tom smirked against your lips.

Your muscles tightened around his fingers.

And you came undone.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, watching you writhe against him. He swallowed thickly. Slowing his movements as you came down from your high, he pressed gentle kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your eyelids, wanting to get every bit of you. He then tilted your head up to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” you managed to ask and reached down to fiddle with the button of his trousers.

His breath hitched as you grazed over his hardened cock. He shook his head and reluctantly moved away. Seeing the pout on your swollen lips, he laughed and just stood up straight to remove his trousers and boxers.

Your mouth watered at the sight. This time it was your turn to be left breathless.

“You all right, darling?” he asked, though the smirk that graced his lips made it more than obvious he knew that you were impressed.

“Never better,” you whispered and sat up properly to move to the edge of the bed, settling in front of him. Your eyes never left his as you pressed the softest of kisses to his tip.

“Another time,” Tom said in a pained voice and brushed your hair from your eyes. He moved over to the bedside table and pulled a box of condoms from the drawer, quickly opening one to slide on to his throbbing cock. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” he said with a cocky grin and pointed to his face when he noticed you couldn’t look away.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you replied and grabbed a hold of his hand to pull him onto the bed, ignoring his yelp as you moved to straddle him. The sight of him lying between your thighs was heavenly. Would it be wrong to just stay in this spot all night, pressing your heat against him so you could watch him squirm beneath you? A deep groan came from Tom as you began moving your hips painstakingly slowly, spreading your wetness along his cock.

His fingers dug into your thighs and moved up to hold your bum, grabbing it hard enough to leave marks. Just as he was about to beg, you raised yourself up a little and guided his cock to your entrance, eyes closing in pure bliss as you gently lowered yourself, taking his full length.

“Jesus, [Y/N],” came his whimper and his hands tightened on your bum to help lift you slightly. Both your moans filled the room as you fell back down, clenching your walls around him.

You leaned down and brought your lips to his. It was hungry, powerful, intoxicating. The room fell away, leaving the two of you lost in your own bubble of passion. He pulled you closer, your breasts bouncing against his chest as you rocked your hips, but he wanted more. He couldn’t bring you close enough. He wanted every part of you.

Tom tightened his hold on you and rolled over, lips barely breaking contact with your skin. He pushed into you and buried his head in the crook of your neck. His moans were addictive. His hips rocked into yours, each move purposeful.

Your nails raked along the skin of his back, leaving angry red lines. The whispers and murmurs of encouragement and swearing and simply his name in your lips spurred Tom on even more, wanting to give everything he had. With a hand placed around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, testing the waters, he thrust harder and took a hold of your leg beneath your knee, lifting it. The angle was perfect.

Everything was perfect.

The scent, taste and feel of him was perfect.

He began roughly pounding into you, kissing every piece of your skin he could reach: your chin, neck, collar bone, breasts. You felt skin break under your nails and you moved your hands from his back to his hair, pulling hard on the curls.

“F-fuck, don’t s-top, oh God, please don’t stop!” Your words came out in a pant, quickly turning to a loud moan when he dropped his hand from your leg and moved it between you, rubbing your clit in a way that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The bed beneath moved with you both, headboard smashing against the wall with each of Tom’s thrusts.

“You gonna cum for me, darling?” His voice was hoarse and deep.

You bit down hard into the skin between his neck and shoulder as you entered the state of euphoria. Tom followed just moments later with one final thrust, spilling himself with a low groan of your name. His legs weakened and he fell onto you, crushing your body beneath him.

“Okay, I can’t breathe,” you giggled and blew his hair away from your mouth.

With a laugh, he leaned up to give you a kiss, then rolled onto his back next to you to rest, eyes closing. He lay panting softly, body too spent to move much. “That was-”

“Yeah,” you replied with a big grin and glanced at him. His skin glistened in the light of the room and his hair stuck up at all angles. “It was definitely amazing.”

Lids still closed, he pulled the condom off and tied it in a knot, then tossed it onto the floor, deciding it was a problem to clean up later. He reached out to you and pulled you close against his chest. The sound of his heart beat loudly in your ears and you decided right then and there that you never wanted to spend your life with anybody else. This, right here with Tom, was home.

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bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years

Text

The Box (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *Request* “I have a question, would you be willing to write like dark!Colby? Nothing like really bad but like let's say Colby stalks and kidnaps the reader or like hes dating the reader and slowly she realizes that he's trying to keep her to himself and tries to escape but he knows she knows so he locks her in his apartment, or even like the reader got kidnapped by Colby and one day the boys are over and she gets them alone and tells them and they laugh it off and tell her that they helped him get her?” [Read Part 2 of The Box here]

Written: 2020

Word Count: 2,719

Warnings: Swearing?, manipulation, kidnapping, dark!Colby

Masterlist

This all started with a box. A medium-sized, insignificant brown tin box that fell open when I was cleaning up the apartment. I’ve seen the box hundreds of times. I knew that Colby has had it since he lived in the trap house. I found it under his bed when I was looking for my shoes. Being a good girlfriend, I waited to ask him about it instead of being nosy. He just told me that it was full of important documents like his birth certificate. I thought it was odd for him to keep such an important box tucked in the corner of there room under his bed. But, by the state of his room, I figured it was the safest place. When Colby got arrested last year, I almost went into the box to see if I could find anything to help. I should have opened the fucking box there and then.

When Colby and I moved into the apartment, the box got moved into the closet of his office. On the top shelf where he keeps some of his filming equipment. Tucked away in another place where it would remain untouched until it was needed. I passed that box so often, not even paying attention to it, there was no reason for Colby to lie to me. Or at least, I thought there was.

That day, Colby left to go whatever it is he does when he leaves the apartment. And I staying doing what I do nearly every time he leaves, clean the apartment. I don’t do much else. My circle is quite small. I hand out with the girls in the group, but not too often, they’re more Colby’s friends than mine. I don’t have my own friends anymore. Those relationships ended when they kept telling me that I should break up with Colby. I should have listened to them.

I clean up the apartment once a week. I would let Colby do it but then he either gets distracted or bored. Plus cleaning is really peaceful. Sometimes, I’ll let the apartment get messy on purpose just so I can have more to clean up. Colby left out some camera equipment and merch that he had set up for a video. So like usual, I take his camera, lights, mic, and tripod and put them neatly away in his office. I put the electronics to charge and I hung the merch back in the closet. The only issue was putting the tripod away. Most of the floor in the closet was occupied by our suitcases and boxes, so, Colby puts his tripod on the shelf with the box instead of standing it up in the corner like a normal person. The thing about the shelf in the closet is that Colby can reach it with ease unless something falls the very back. I, on the other hand, can barely get something up there unless I get the little ladder, which I normally do. But that day, for whatever reason, I decided that I was just going to tiptoe. I can reach it that way, just barely.

I stretch and after a few tries of getting the tripod up without it falling, I knocked the box down with a loud thud. It nearly smashed my foot. I finally get the tripod to stay put on the shelf and deal with the mess that I made. When I crouched down to the ground, I realized that there were more than just documents in there, there were pictures. Pictures of me. But not in the cute, “oh look, my boyfriend has pictures of me” way. But in the very creepy, “these pictures are from before we met” way.

I pick up a stack of photos and look through them. These are all pictures of me after I turned 18 but before I met Colby. I can tell because of my hair in these pictures. The night before my 18th birthday I dyed a little bit of green in there and some of the pictures me with my green strips of hair. That, and Colby has taken the liberty to date the picture and provide a bit of information in his messy writing. There are pictures of me with my friends, family, at work, and even pictures of me with my ex-boyfriend. Of course, he scratched out my ex’s face in the pictures. Out of curiosity, I decided to check the papers that also feel out of the box.

The papers were just more information on me. My old high school schedule, my volleyball schedule, work schedule, my report cards, college applications, emails— hell he even has a whole dossier on me and my family. There are napkins with things I order scribble on them. It made so much sense why Colby was squirming when we were watching YOU season 1 and he refused to have season 2 play in the apartment. Colby is my Joe, and it wasn’t sitting well in my stomach.

I think at that moment, my fight or flight response was broken. Because I put everything back in to box, put the box on the kitchen counter, packed up all of my stuff, and proceeded to wait for Colby to come home. I didn’t leave, and I had every opportunity to. Colby didn’t come home until three hours after I saw everything. I just continued to clean the apartment and pack up everything calmly while waiting. Like Colby would come home and make sense of it all in a way that wasn’t crazy. Like I was the one who was reading to much into this.

The fact of the matter is that I didn’t want to believe that my loving boyfriend could be this crazed stalker. I didn’t want to believe that our entire relationship was built on a lie. I knew that I was a fan of Colby when we met, but I didn’t know that he was also a fan of mine. Which is saying something because the only online presence that I had when we met was a fan page and my personal accounts. I didn’t even get into the social media thing until after we started dating.

When Colby got home, that's when all hell broke loose. My bags were near the door, waiting for me to take my leave. I don’t even know why I didn’t at least put them in the car. I might have still been in shock. I was watching Netflix when I heard the door open, for fucks sakes. I even waited for him to close the door before saying anything. I didn’t have to. He saw my bags, then he saw the box, and then he looked at me.

“I can explain.” He started, while he inched towards me. I stood up and backed away. That’s when I realized the mistake that I made. Colby was by the door and the only other way out was off the balcony, and that’s the extreme exit.

I knew that Colby would never lay a finger on me. That’s just who he is. Or at least, that’s who I thought he was until I found the box. This is a different Colby. This situation could definitely end like YOU, and I wasn’t prepared for that.

“Stay right there. Don’t touch me.” I said calmly. Colby’s mouth opens in shock, then his expression changes to hurt.

“Y/N, do you think I’m going to hurt you? I would never. I swear. Let’s just sit and talk.” He said as he got even closer to me.

“I don’t know what to think, just stay where you are.” I don’t even know how I stayed so calm.

“Look, I did it because I love you. I know it’s weird but, it’s innocent. Just please don’t leave me, I’ll tell you everything.” Colby continued to walk towards me and my flight response was finally triggered. He finally moved away enough from the door where I thought I could squeeze past and run. Or at least make some noise to get help from a neighbor. When I tried to run past him, I slipped on something and hit the floor hard, knocking me out cold. When I woke up, I was in our bedroom my leg shackled to the wall. The door was somehow locked from the outside and my bags were back in the room.

****

That was over a month ago. I gave up trying to escape. The only time I get to leave the room is for supervised bathroom breaks. Colby stayed home every day for the first week, only leaving to get food. He kept trying to explain but I would tune him out. I must have been out for a while that first night because I can’t find a single hanger or bobby pin the room. He even took out every sharp object and medication from the bathroom in case I decided to off myself. I didn’t get to eat anything that required silverware either.

The first week was the hardest. He took away all my electronics, so calling for help wasn’t an option. I tried banging on the wall that faces Sam’s apartment, even though I knew he wouldn’t hear a thing. There was no point in trying the upstairs and downstairs neighbors if Sam couldn’t hear my, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to. It was sometime during week 2 that I realized that if I wanted to get out of here, I would have to earn Colby’s trust. We were planning on moving to Hawaii in a few months. There’s no way he can smuggle me out of the state against my will. So the current name of the game is survival.

Colby hasn’t said or done anything that would suggest he would hurt me. Then again, I’m currently being held captive. If I just act compliant, Colby will give loosen the restraints a little. And once he gets rid of all the restrictions, I can make a run for it. Obviously, not that very day, he might have sort of hold on me just in case. Maybe the day we go to Hawaii, I can someone at the airport know, that way they could hold him.

I will say, that Colby has been nice throughout the whole time, besides the whole holding me captive thing. The first week, was harsh. When I said that I could only leave for the bathroom, well there was a whole open door policy. But as the weeks went by, he loosened some restrains. I still have the chain, but now, when I eat, Colby opens the door and lets me watch tv. And now we have a whole knock system. One knock for the bathroom, two knocks to skip the song play, three knocks to request a song, four knocks means I’m hungry or thirsty, and five knocks just means I need something. Colby has even started to get me books to read. This is like my own, personal version of Beauty and the Beast, without the Stockholm Syndrome and the talking furniture. Although, there was a brief time during the first few days where I was losing my shit and almost started talking to the bed. I want out, I need out, this is no way to live.

****

I was examining the lock for the millionth time to see if there was any way for me to take it off when there was a knock at the door. I quickly sit on the bed and pretend that I’m reading the book that I finished a few days ago. Colby comes in and stands in the doorway. This must be killing him. Colby is a very touchy-feely person. Not in a sexual way, well not all the time, but there were days that if Colby hadn’t even held my hand or hugged me, he would be in a bad mood. Since he’s locked me in the apartment, he hasn’t touched me. I appreciate it greatly, but at the same time, I also miss his touch.

Colby scans the room for a second, before his eyes land on me.

“Listen,” Colby finally moves away from the door and sits in the corner of the bed opposite of me, “I know that you’ve been lonely and bummed about missing pizza nights, so I invited Sam, Corey, and Jake over to hang out for a bit. Which means I’m going to have to unchain you. You have to promise you won’t try to run or anything.”

“I promise. I’ll act like everything is normal.” Freedom just might be closer than I thought

“I know this is hard on you. This is hard on me too. I love you and I hate having to do this to you, but this is the only way to make sure you don’t leave me.” He goes to reach for my hand by stops himself.

“I’m starting to understand now Colbs.” I give a small face smile to reassure him.

Colby leans down and begins to unlock my chain. When I hear the metal clank to the ground, I almost want to run away now, but I have to wait.

There’s three of them and only one of Colby, I should be in the clear. Corey might fight Colby, or at least tackle him to the ground so I can run away. Sam might help me get out and take me somewhere safe. Jake will most likely get confused and figure something to do after he realizes what is going on.

Laughter fills the apartment as Jake plays with something he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t even know the last time I laughed so hard. It’s refreshing to hand out with sane people. Maybe if all goes well, and I don’t manage to get out tonight, Colby will let me start going back to pizza nights. Or I could even give me my phone back. I know that Colby pretended to be me and stated that there is some sort of dram and that I was going through some stuff and decided to take a break.

“Oh, the food is here! I’ll be right back.” Colby says as he gets up after checking his phone. The guys aren’t even paying attention. They’re busy talking about some of the TikToks that we watched.

I watch as Colby leaves the room. I can’t believe he just left me here, without saying anything. Not a warning or even a joke. He just left. This is almost too easy. I wait a few seconds before turning to the guys.

“Okay, listen up, I don’t know how much time I have before he gets back. Something is up with Colby. I think he’s been stalking me since before we met and when he found out that I knew, he locked me in the apartment. I’ve been chained in our bedroom for the past three months. You guys have to help me get out of here before he gets back.” I speak quickly, fighting the urge to grab my stuff and explain as we leave.

Sam, Jake, and Corey don’t say anything at first. They look back and forth at each other and laugh. Full on, crying laughing as I stare at them in disbelief. I knew that there was a possibility that they wouldn’t believe me, but I didn’t expect this reaction.

“Guys, I’m being serious! Look,” I lift my jean leg so they could see the bruise from the chain on my ankle.

“I’m—I’m sorry dude, It’s just, I think it’s funny that you think we didn’t know. We’re like, his best friends.” Jake says as he calms down.

“You… you guys knew? And you didn’t try to reason with him or anything?” I stand up out of shock and take a step back. They knew and didn’t try to help.

“Y/N,” Sam starts and he wipes a tear from his eye, “did you really think that it was a coincidence that you ran into Colby at that party?”

“What are you…?” I can’t fully wrap my head around this.

“Y/N, we helped Colby get you,” Corey said calmly as I fall to the floor in defeat. I’m never going to be free.

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