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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind.

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly.

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?”

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it.

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina

#sanders sides #ts sides #logince #creativitwins #ts roman #roman sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #sympathetic remus #long post #my fic #*blows kiss to my collection of disney movies*#this one's for you roman #happy birthday to the best gay disney prince

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btxtreads · 4 years

Text

💫 Shot in the Dark 💫

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: INTERMISSION

↳ Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x Reader

↳ word count: 2.2k words

↳ rating: PG

↳ genre: fluff, angst

↳ warnings: cheating, break-up (?)

Y/N was just finished the last touch-ups on her hair when the doorbell rang.

She stumbled out the guest room, peeking her head out the door to see Soobin poke his head out from the kitchen.

“Is that him?” He asked, eyes wide as he slammed his freshly opened can of coke on the counter.

Yeonjun rushed out of his bedroom, wide-eyed as Soobin fumbled over to the door and opening it with narrow eyes.

“Hello,” he greeted slowly to a wide-eyed Beomgyu.

“Soobin-hyung?” Beomgyu asked, eyes darting all around the manor. “This is—You live here?”

“You’re late,” is all Soobin replied with. “You said 8 PM,”

“Traffic,” was all Beomgyu could say.

“Bin, lay off,” Yeonjun snorted as he leaned on the staircase. “This is my manor, but yeah they sort of live here, too, I guess,”

Beomgyu gulped as Yeonjun urged him in.

Soobin narrowed his eyes at Beomgyu one more time, adjusting his tuxedo coat before wandering back to the guestroom—where Y/N was.

“He’s a little wary of you,” Yeonjun informed as he reached the boy by the stairwell, patting his shoulders. “but you already know that,”

“I mean no harm,”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Yeonjun hummed. “They never do,”

Soobin slammed the guest room door open, his groans of pain loudly ringing around the area.

“Ah, let go—Ow!”

“That’s for being mean,” a familiar voice scolded.

Beomgyu looked up to see her—clothed in the prettiest lavender dress that seems to fall around her body like waves.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves.

Her soft lips were pouting as she released Soobin’s ear, head snapping over to the boy at the bottom of the staircase.

“What was it this time?” Yeonjun rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“I called Beomgyu a wasted sperm ce—“

“Soobin, shut up,” Y/N hissed as she pulled on his arm, descending down the stairs. “Beomgyu, hi.”

“This is for you,” Beomgyu cleared his throat, ignoring the suspicious glances from Soobin and Yeonjun as he thrusted the bouquet in his hands.

“Sunflowers?” Yeonjun hummed, tone challenging. “That’s not her favorite flower.”

“No,” Beomgyu cleared his throat. “But, uh, that was what I got her on our first date,”

Soobin raised his eyebrows in interest as Yeonjun nodded, impressed.

“You remembered,” Y/N said, surprised as she took the bouquet.

“I always will,”

Yeonjun nudged a zoned-out Soobin next to him as Y/N blushed, making the taller boy snap into attention.

“I think we should go,” Soobin said, checking his watch as Yeonjun softly tugged the bouquet out of Y/N’s hands and plopped it into a nearby vase. “We’re late,”

“I’ve got a lime for us,” Beomgyu offered his arm out to Y/N with a smile. “Do you want to come with, hyungs?”

“Nah,” Yeonjun shook his head and pulled out his car keys. “Soobin’s driving my Lamborghini,”

“I’m like your glorified driver,” Soobin huffed as he snatched the keys from Yeonjun and marched out of the house.

“You love driving my Lamborghini!” Yeonjun called as he followed Soobin.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Beomgyu said as soon as both boys were out of hearing range and arguing over by the Lamborghini, making the girl next to him jump.

Y/N turned to him, smiling softly.

“I—you, too,”

Beomgyu chuckled at the flustered girl.

“Let’s go?”

“Okay,”

Beomgyu wasn’t hers the whole night, she already knew.

The boy had to take a few photos with her and mingle with his associates—it was a company gala after all.

A quick glance around the venue would show her all four of her dateless friends (despite Yeonjun claiming that he was ‘Soobin’s eye-candy sugar daddy for the night’) frolicking around.

Yeonjun and Soobin made it their living mission to taste-test all the dishes in the buffet table, while Hueningkai was busy playing a game on his phone.

Taehyun was talking to a close associate somewhere nearby.

With that being said, Y/N found herself leaning on one of the terraces away from the event—hand clutching a wine glass.

“Sorry that took some time,” a voice greeted, making her smile. “I had to talk to some people that are interested in making some deals with the company—you know how it goes,”

“That’s fine, that’s what this gala is for,” Y/N smiled, sipping the glass in her hands.

“Merlot?”

“You didn’t have anything I liked,” Y/N shrugged, turning around to see Beomgyu with raised eyebrows—carrying two glasses of whiskey.

“What about these?”

“Well, that I prefer more,” Y/N laughed, setting her wine glass on a nearby coffee table and taking the glass from the boy.

She watched as he leaned back on the terrace right next to her, eyes watching the traffic pass by.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Beomgyu said, sparing her a quick smile.

“Anything for a friend,”

Beomgyu was silent at this remark, fumbling with the cup in his hands.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“I really didn’t cheat on you,” Beomgyu said, locking gazes with the girl. “Please believe me,”

“Beomgyu, it was five years—“

“I need you to believe me,” Beomgyu spoke, sighing. “It was—everything was a set-up. I couldn’t do anything, even until now,”

Y/N let the silence envelop her after Beomgyu’s reveal—eyes following the twinkling lights of the traffic below.

Y/N cleared her throat looking up at him.

“Until now?”

“It’s arranged, Y/N. I never liked Eunbi,” Beomgyu sighed. “I couldn’t say no. Next thing I knew—we were dating, you broke up with me, we were having sex, we were getting photographed in public, we were engaged—It all happened so fast,”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sex doesn’t happen just out of the blue, Gyuu—“

“I was sad and drunk—I just lost you,” Beomgyu explained.

“Well, those dates and that proposal wasn’t an accident—“

“I already lost you, what else did I have to lose?” Beomgyu sighed.

Y/N closed her eyes, breathing out softly as she listened to her rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I—“

“I never wanted to leave—it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I still have your photo in my room,” Beomgyu confessed. “This—it’s just what my family wanted—“

“Then why did you leave?” Y/N asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Because you were so big on family—I thought it was what you would have wanted!”

“I loved you, why would I want you to leave?” Y/N argued back, frowning at the boy.

Beomgyu shook his head as he took another sip of the alcohol in his glass.

“I—It’s okay, it was the right decision anyway. I would only be a burden to you,” He mumbled.

“You wouldn’t have,” Y/N mumbled softly.

“The press was getting wind of me, especially when my brother decided he’d rather be a lawyer instead of a businessman,” Beomgyu snorted as he recalled. “I was suddenly shot into the spotlight—I couldn’t just let the press ruin you because of me,”

Y/N reached out, letting her hand rest on his as she willed her heart to calm down as they locked gazes.

“I would have been fine if I was with you,” Y/N said, sighing at Beomgyu’s sad gaze.

“I loved you,” Beomgyu confessed. “I think I still do,”

Y/N smiled sadly.

“I know,”

“Can I kiss you?” Beomgyu suddenly asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down on his alcohol glass. “J-Just tonight, I just want to feel like you’re mine again,”

“Gyuu,” Y/N said, furrowing her eyebrows and setting down her own glass. “You’re drunk,”

“Maybe,” Beomgyu hummed, narrowing his eyes on his glass. “Or maybe, I’m not drunk enough,”

“What?”

The boy raised his glass to his lips, tipping his head back and finishing the alcohol down in one gulp.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the boy slammed the glass down on the table, wincing at the burning sensation of the alcohol and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Gyuu—“

The boy reached out, hands grasping her hips tightly as he swooped down to crash his lips on hers.

Y/N gasped in surprised, freezing as she felt his lips back on hers for the very first time in five years.

Beomgyu pulled away, whimpering softly as he leaned his forehead on hers.

“Please,” He whispered. “Say—do something,”

Y/N stopped for a second, hand resting on his shoulder.

“Beomgyu,”

“Please,”

Y/N bit her lip, letting all her inhibitions escape as she closed her eyes and leaned her head up to kiss him back.

She let her hands snake around his neck and entangle in his hair as she felt Beomgyu’s lips glide smoothly on hers.

Just like it used to.

Just like it was supposed to.

As Beomgyu’s grip on her hips moved to her waist, Y/N heard a few clicks on the floor that sounded so familiar.

Almost like platform shoes.

Immediately, she can feel something dumped on her head—the smell of red wine strong as it dripped down her head.

Beomgyu flinched as Y/N pushed him away, suprised but still gripping on her waist.

“Y/N?” He gasped in surprise as he saw the red liquid drip down her head.

“You cheating bitches,” Eunbi hissed as she slammed the finished wine glass in her hands into the hands of a nearby person—a wide-eyed Kai that just happened to wander by.

Y/N’s eyes locked with the tall boy’s, silently asking for help.

The boy immediately turned and called for Soobin and Yeonjun as Eunbi stalked towards Y/N and Beomgyu.

“Eunbi—“ Beomgyu started, stopping short when Eunbi’s hand flew across his cheek.

“Gyuu—“ Y/N said, stopping when Eunbi turned to her.

“I should have known this was your plan all along, you desperate slut,”

“Slut?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have kissed him tonight—my mistake,”

Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun and Kai arrived—stopping by the doorway.

Yeonjun blinked in surprise as Y/N held her hand out to pause him in his tracks, eyes narrowing over at Eunbi.

“However, Ms. Song, you don’t get to act like a saint—you were blatantly cheating on Beomgyu in the Bahamas for months—“

“This isn’t about me,” Eunbi hissed.

“Oh, so it’s only about you when it benefits you?” Y/N shot back, making Soobin wince in faux offense.

Yeonjun elbowed Soobin as Beomgyu shot his head over to them, shaking himself out of his haze as he finally stepped forward to gently grasp Eunbi’s arm.

“Eunbi, calm down and let’s—“

“No!” Eunbi shrieked as she pushed his hand off. “Y/N is fired. Today,”

“You can’t do that,” Beomgyu said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yes, I can,”

“No, you can’t,” Y/N challenged, crossing his arms. “You’re not my boss—Beomgyu is,”

“I’m Beomgyu’s fiance,” Eunbi challenged, making Y/N clench her fist.

“I’m leaving if Beomgyu tells me to,” Y/N said with a firm tone, turning over to the boy beside him. “but if you do you have to know that I’m really giving up on you,”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows as he wracked his brain for a decision.

“Beomgyu,” Eunbi said in an irritated tone. “Fire her—now—and I’m not telling your parents,”

Beomgyu opened and closed his mouth indecisively, his eyes flying back and forth between Y/N and Eunbi.

Y/N only bit her lip as Eunbi continued to rant.

“Im your fiancé, Beomgyu,” Eubi hissed. “Would you really dump your fiancé, the girl your parents want you to marry—who knows the industry and you since you were a child—for this lowlife peasant?”

Beomgyu closed his eyes, sighing.

“Gyuu?” Y/N asked softly as the boy opened his eyes, giving her a pleading gaze.

“Y/N, can we talk alone?” Beomgyu stuttered.

Immediately, the girl’s demeanor changed—her fists unclenched as her eyes lost all determination.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t decide right away. I—“

“I’ll decide for you,” Y/N mumbled softly as she straightened out her dress. “I quit,”

Beomgyu’s eyes flew over to her in surprise as she stood up straight and shot him a small nod.

“I’ll have my resignation files forwarded to you within the week,”

“Y/N?”

The girl kept her head up, biting her lip and holding her head up.

Eunbi’s glare followed the girl, who promptly ignored her furious gaze.

Yeonjun stumbled forward, hands reaching out immediately to Y/N as he shot Beomgyu the darkest gaze he could muster.

Soobin’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, mumbling out a silent words of comfort as he glared over at Beomgyu.

“Wait—Y/N, Soobin-hyung, Yeonjun-hyung—“ Beomgyu started, stopping short when Soobin stopped and turned back.

“Fuck off,” Soobin hissed darkly.

Soobin, the nicest hyung he’s ever met, just told him to fuck off.

Yeonjun only ignored Beomgyu, turning over to Kai with Y/N in his arms.

“We’re going home,”

And just like that, Beomgyu felt his final intermission with Y/N finish as the curtains close between him and her for the last time.

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occult-castiel · 3 years

Text

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this.

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy.

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right.

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes.

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over.

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind.

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer.

"Dean?"

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here."

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too.

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket."

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour."

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine.

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease.

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this.

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something?

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking.

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole.

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left.

God, he should be here now.

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again.

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice.

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty."

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?"

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin.

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth.

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home."

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs.

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —”

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that."

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that."

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed."

"You can't —"

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail.

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?"

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck."

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look.

"Can we just talk about this?"

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home."

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later."

"Unlikely."

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead.

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white.

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side. And he doesn't think about Cas.

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed.

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep.

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down.

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point.

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything."

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch."

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us."

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he?

It's fine. All fine.

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again.

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance.

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

#destiel #deancas #not sure if ill post eevery chapter on here #cause i have the feeling this us gunna be longer than i originally anticipated #and having a 30+ series on tumbkr seems messy #but ill at least out this one up here too #destiel fanfic #a thread with no end

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cilliansaccent · 4 years

Text

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 24

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 5,235

!!Warnings!!: Mention of abortion near the end

Date: February 2017

Chapter Name: Maya’s Wedding Day

Brief Chapter Outline: The pair attend’s Maya’s wedding, it’s all nice and happy until Lucia ruins the surprise for Gabrijela. It ends with the following day after-party at Maya’s parents house.

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It was an early start for Gabrijela and Cillian. They took another shower, Gab going first since she had to be ready quicker and she took her time when it came to doing her hair and make-up.

"You look fine without all of that on." Cillian mused.

She huffed, "Yes. You've told me many times. But it's only for these special occasions I'll go full out. Or if I'm streaming a game." She was combing her wet hair once she was out of the shower.

"I have yet to see you do a stream," Cillian said.

"Well, I do plan on a stream next weekend. You can watch." She giggled.

"Sounds like a good idea." He nodded and went into the shower.

Gabrijela dried her hair and worked on it. It was a half up half down style with a braid, the loose ends were in soft waves as her hair was like that naturally. She cleaned up her jewellery next, she had found some earrings that could match her necklace, they were simple gold sunbursts with a little opal in the middle. She still had that Claddagh ring on and admired it. She truly loved it. She popped on their shared music playlist as she set on her make-up. She kept it quite natural, when she would come back she would add more to match her evening dress. Her dress for the church was an off the shoulder, white top section with the skirt a rose gold with four big white flowers. She wore flats with a small heel.

Cillian was ready in his suit, he was fixing up his collar as Gabrijela came over and did his tie, "You look dashing, babe." She adjusted his tie and collar and rubbed down his jacket.

"And you look stunning." He held her forearms gently.

"Thank you. Can I take a photo?" She grinned.

"Okay." He chuckled and they posed before the mirror as she snapped a pic. "Oh, we look good."

"We do. A perfect couple." She leaned up and kissed his cheek gently.

They pulled away and she grabbed her bag, checked for anything she was missing and off they went. Her family were finishing up and the kids mucked around near the parking lot. They all greeted each other before they all got into their own cars. Her parents would join in her car, she would lead her family to the church.

Once everyone got to the church, they mingled with the rest of the guests and Gabrijela found her group of friends. They all greeted each other.

"How was the drive?" Elijah asked.

"Good. I'm tired since we left right after I finished work." Gabrijela laughed. "Don't give me that look you kinky asshat. No. I'm not tired because of that." She punched his shoulder.

He grinned, "Sure thing. Hey, I gotta tell you something though."

"Oh? What is it?" Gab asked.

"Before we all knew what Lucia had done to you and the shit she caused us, she is still coming to the wedding. Maya wanted to tell her not to come but she felt way to bad. You know how she is." Elijah said.

Gab sighed heavily, "Thanks for telling me. I'll make sure I keep away from her."

"No problemo. I think she's just coming to the reception so you got time to get yourself ready if she ever tries to face off with you." Elijah patted her shoulder.

"Yeah. Again, thanks." She smiled.

It was time to head into the church and she took Cillian's hand. Together they sat near the front with her family and friends. Ben was standing up at the front with his mates, looking very nervous. Twenty minutes passed before the bride had arrived. The guests all stood as the little flower girls, both Maya's and Ben's, walked down the aisle, throwing flowers along the way but were giggling and kept getting distracted. Then it was the ring boys who were close to the girl's ages, followed by the three bridesmaids. The music began as Maya and her father walked together down the aisle. She had a beautiful lace dress which had a Queen Anne collar and short flowing sleeves. The bodice was hand made and had little crystals sewn in the middle of the flower designs. She looked absolutely stunning and very happy.

The ceremony continued on, it was seriously perfect. Their vows were their own and it brought tears to both their eyes. Gab felt Cillian slip his hand in hers and squeeze gently. She looked up and he smiled at her, she returned it. She looked back when they exchanged rings... She wondered if she was ever going to get married.

Once the ceremony ended, the Croatian band started and played music as they walked out followed by the bridal party then soon after the guests. Everyone gathered in front of the church and took a photo, then a big circle was formed and the bride and groom danced to the music. People clapped and cheered, more photos taken and people congratulated them. The bride and groom eventually left to go have their photos taken, some people headed back to their hotel rooms or straight to the reception that was being held at the Hunter Valley Gardens.

Gab and Cillian headed back to their hotel with her parents in tow. They all relaxed in the garden as it was cooler, Leo had brought drinks and they had some. Gab stuck with her lemon lime and bitters. Music played from the boom box she brought along, the kids asleep, the air warm but not to much to cause you to sweat. Then it was time to get ready, Gabrijela changing into her other dress, Cillian helping with the lace back. She laughed when he gripped her hips and pulled her close, kissing her shoulder then to her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, "Don't, babe. You know what will happen."

"Just don't think about it." He said, coming to her jaw.

"Bastard." She was turned around to face him and she planted her hands on his chest. "I. Love. You."

"And I. Love. You. Too." He leaned in and kissed her softly, "You look really beautiful."

"Thank you. You look really handsome." She smiled and fixed his hair.

He took her face in his hands gently and he smiled, "Shall we go?"

"We shall." They kissed and pulled away and headed out and soon left to go to the gardens. It was done outside with a huge marquis that was decked out in a very boho, natural theme. Pretty lightbulbs hung from the beams above (which looked like branches), the poles were designed to look like tree trunks with curling flowering vines. The tables had three types of designs, one had the red wattle, yellow kangaroo paws and the eucalyptus flower with leaves sprinkled on the tables. The bridal table was similar but much more extravagant with flowers draped at the front with fairy lights woven between them and as the backdrop to.

Gabrijela took the stem of rosemary from the basket, it had a red, blue and white ribbon at the end and she pinned it to Cillian's jacket lapel.

"What is this for?" Cillian asked.

"All Croatian weddings have this. Each guest gets it. Tradition says it wards off evil spirits and that guests then give money." She pointed to the box. "Though, you would give a card instead of just dumping it in." She held the card up and grinned before she put it in the box. "I already bought her a gift, a Smeg Toaster that will match her other Smeg items in their new house."

Cillian chuckled, "Nice." He took her hand as they walked to their table. They were seated with her friends, Elijah at her side.

"Please tell me she won't be on our table?" Gab asked Elijah.

"Sadly she will be, but don't you worry. We got you." He hugged her a little and squeezed her shoulder. "Also you look fantastic. You both do."

"Thanks, Eli." Gab smiled a little before she sighed. "Ah fuck." Gab cursed when she saw Lucia walk in what looked like a much older man.

"Now that is a first," Karsyn said with a raised brow, he was seated beside Cillian.

"What the hell." Gab groaned.

"It's going to be okay." Cillian gripped her hand, touching her face, "I love you."

Gab smiled and touched his hand as Lucia beamed, "Hi guys! Good to see you all." She exclaimed.

"Nice to see you too," Elijah said with a tight smile.

Karsyn only ignored her and talked to his fiancee.

"Well, this is David. My boyfriend." She introduced the sketchy looking dude. Lucia told him each of their names before they sat down. The vibe on the table was weird since no one was really talking to Lucia. Gab kept her attention on Cillian, showing him something on her phone.

"So! Gab-gab, how have you been?" Lucia chimed in, beaming.

Gab looked up, "It's Gabrijela. I've been fine." She leaned into Cillian's side, gripping his thigh.

David seemed intrigued but he didn't talk, keeping mostly to himself.

"That's good. You like my handsome boyfriend? He's super sweet. He's also from Ireland to. We both have guys who got in common. Should hang out." Lucia nodded.

Gabrijela bit her bottom lip and took a quick glance at her friends who also seemed like 'WTF'. "Uh, don't know. I'm quite busy."

"I'm sure we will find a day! I'll message you. Did you change your number? Been trying to get back to you." Lucia frowned.

"Uh. Yeah-"

"Oh then please, give it to me. I want to organise a day-" Lucia started.

"No. I will not. I'm busy, Lucia. I have no time to meet up with you." Gabrijela already felt annoyed and she felt embarrassed for her boyfriend who was trying to tell Lucia to stop.

"Why not? I want to see you again." She pouted, tears in her eyes. "I miss you!" She cried. David grabbed her and hushed her, whispering fast to her and she was whimpering.

"Jesus." Gabrijela turned away from her, shaking her head. "I'm already fucking sick of her." Gabrijela felt that second-hand embarrassment.

"It's okay. I'm here for you." Cillian rubbed her arms gently then took her hands and brought them to his lips. He looked at Lucia who was staring at him with clear vile anger. He only looked back to his love and kissed her forehead.

No one talked to Lucia despite she was trying to chat up the ladies on the table. Very light conversation before she finally got the gist of it.

Eventually, the bride and groom had arrived. The bridal party went first in, each couple had their own song they danced to as they entered followed by Ben and Maya. They picked a lovely Croatian song and they danced together in the middle of the dance floor. Then they parted after it was done and took their spots on the table.

Their MC, Maya's cousin, welcomed everyone and complimented the bridal party and the couple before he sneaked in some jokes before he departed. The first-course meal was then brought out soon after, people were chatting, music was playing. There was going to be a live band, she could see it. She loved live Croatian bands, and these guys were good.

Lucia got up to go talk to some people she saw, leaving poor David alone.

"Hey mate." Elijah spoke up, smiling at the man, "I gotta ask, what are you doing with her?"

"With Lucia? Like anyone else, dating her." David sat a little straighter.

"Right. Right." Elijah sat back.

"I'd like to ask why you all gave her such a cold greeting. Are you not her closest friends? Especially you?" David looked at Gab.

"Was. She's no longer our friend." Gabrijela said. She wondered if Lucia had even told David why they never spoke. It looked like he was quite confused.

"That doesn't mean you should give her the cold shoulder." David frowned, "She's proven to be an actual lovely girl."

"Oh? So you know what she did?" Gabrijela asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes. She told me she made a mistake with sleeping with your now ex. She truly wants to make it up to you." David replied.

"Yeah. No. She did not make that mistake. She wanted it." Gabrijela scoffed, shaking her head. Cillian gripped her thigh, squeezing to remind her to stay calm.

"Have you ever spoken to her about it? She said you just dropped her." David cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course. I won't be dealing with people who cheat. I've dealt with people like that, don't need it in my life." Gab replied smoothly.

"But you should-" David began.

"Listen, mate. She said she doesn't want to be friends with her. Drop it. Besides, how long have you been dating Lucia?" Elijah cut him off.

"Three months," David said.

"Right. And you understand that she was causing some shit with us, as well?"

"Yes but-"

"No buts here. Just understand that she's cut deep wounds with us all and we aren't the type to just happily oblige her just because she throws a tantrum. You just saw it yourself." Elijah said, his eyes hard.

David frowned and glanced at Gabrijela and her man then sighed and sat back, arms crossed.

Gabrijela looked away and saw Maya looking at them, she gave her a smile of reassurance and a promise they would talk later.

It wasn't long when it came to the first dance. Gabrijela explained to Cillian the meaning behind the song and how much it meant to Maya and Ben. He found it quite romantic as they watched the pair dance. The rest of the bridal party danced until anyone else may come up.

"Shall we?" Gabrijela turned to Cillian.

"Dance?" He asked.

"Yeah. Come on, my love." She said as she stood up and took his hands. They walked to the dance floor and he spun her before he pulled her close. They swayed to the music, her head resting on his chest. She imagined them on their wedding day like this.

"You make me so unbelievably happy, Cillian." She said, her eyes shut.

His lips brushed her forehead, his thumb ran over her knuckles slowly, "I can say the same for you. You are truly a woman I love."

She loved that word in his accent, it made her shiver, "My Cillian." She looked up at him and leaned up to kiss him softly.

He smiled and they pressed foreheads. Maya made an 'aw' sound as they came close.

"You two are so cute!" She beamed and broke away from Ben to hug Gabrijela.

Gab laughed as she hugged her friend back as Cillian shook hands with Ben, "Congrats. You look so good! Ugh!"

"Thanks. Oh my god. I love this dress. It suits you so well!" Maya beamed. The girls gushed over each other before they danced, their men stood off to the side to talk.

"I have something really important to tell you and the gang," Gab said to Maya as they twirled.

"Oh? How important?" Maya asked with a smile.

"Very. After all the formalities are done we all meet under the willow tree." Gab giggled.

"Oooh, secrets. I love secrets." Maya mused.

They parted as the dance ended and they all took their seats once more. It was time to do the speeches, which were very sweet, a lot of tears from both Maya, Ben and Maya's dad and Ben's best man. The speeches really tugged at the heartstrings. Even for Gabrijela. Then it was time to cut the cake, which of course almost turned out into a food fight but Maya wasn't having it. Once the cake was taken away and people calmed down it was time to throw the bouquet and Gabrijela was up on her feet.

"Hey! You aren't single!" Elijah shouted.

"Don't care!" Gab stuck her tongue out as all the girls gathered. Music played as Maya swayed and messed around... Then threw the flowers. The girls cried out and reached for it... Gab caught it as she tittered to the side and fell down as she laughed.

"Woo!" She yelled as Cillian rushed to her side.

"You okay my love?" He asked, eyes wide.

"I am. I am." She giggled and kissed him as he helped her to her feet. "Now it's your turn." She said as Maya came over.

"You good? Holy crap you were determined." Maya laughed.

"Yep! I was!" She nodded as they took a picture together.

"What do you mean it's my turn?" Cillian asked as they pulled away.

"You'll see." Gabbie pulled him back to the table as it was now Ben's turn.

Ben had done a whole 'Magic Mike' kinda dance for Maya who was red as a tomato. He stripped and paraded around her before he got to his knees and went under her skirts. She laughed and giggled as he finally took out the garter.

"Up you go, babe. Go catch it." Gab whispered to him.

"Oh, God." He laughed and stood to join the boys.

"Don't you hurt him!" Gab yelled, pointing at Ben's brothers and cousins.

Ben also did the teasing before he threw it. Gab gasped as the group surged forward... Cillian came out victorious! He laughed as he was bear-hugged by the group and Gabrijela was called up. They took photos together then with the bride and groom before Cillian and Gabrijela began to dance. It was an old tradition that they would do this. They did a bit of a jig together and laughed and mucked around, people cheering and clapping.

It was time to sit down as dessert came out, chocolate fudge cake. Gabrijela groaned as the dish was set before her, Cillian getting some type of ice-cream and some other cake. "Let's share," Gab said and they did, going half and half with their dishes.

Gab waited when Lucia decided to leave and she whispered to Elijah and Karsyn to follow her. They all got up, including the wives as they walked out to the willow tree. Gab waited back as her friends had all gathered there and looked up at Cillian, "You still okay with me telling them?" She asked him. They had discussed on the drive that Gabrijela would tell her friends about her being pregnant. They both agreed they would do it tonight.

"I'm perfectly fine with this. I swear it. Your friends deserve to know and I am more than happy to tell them." He squeezed her hands.

Gabbie beamed and together they went to their group of friends.

"Spill it, girlie." Maya grinned.

"Well..." Gabbie glanced at Cillian then back at her friends. "I'm pregnant!"

There was a moment and Maya was the one who gasped, "Really? Oh my god!"

"Yep! I am!" Gabrijela laughed as she was crushed against her friend's body in a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" Karsyn and Elijah said as they all hugged each other.

"When are you due?" Maya asked.

"Don't know. Maybe October or November if my calculations are right." Gabrijela giggled as Cillian pulled her close.

"Are you excited?" Ben asked Cillian.

"Oh very much so. I can't wait." Cillian grinned and looked down at Gabrijela.

There was excited chatter among her friends, and they eventually found out they were all first to know before her family. That was another obstacle to get across.

"What's all this excitement?" Lucia had wandered over and looked at everyone, "And why was I left out of it?"

Everyone turned to look at her, "None of your business." Elijah smiled.

"Is someone pregnant?" Lucia continued, "Who? C'mon, tell me." She crossed her arms.

"None. Of. Your. Business." Elijah said again, "No one needs to tell you anything."

"I wasn't asking you." She snapped at Elijah. "Ladies? Someone gonna tell me?"

"No." Gabrijela frowned, "Elijah is right. We don't need to tell you shit." She said, "Come on, let's go back inside." Gab said and walked with Cillian, holding his hand.

Everyone followed inside, leaving Lucia alone.

The night continued with more dancing and taking silly photos in the photo booth. Gabrijela and Cillian headed into the garden again where they kissed under a tree for some time where things began to grow hotter until Elijah, Karsyn and Ben ruined the fun. Gab was happy her friends were super supportive of their relationship, the boys loved Cillian, they acted mature but also had heaps of fun.

Gab couldn't get her eyes off Cillian the whole time, and Maya kept teasing her about it.

"Shut up." Gab rolled her eyes, shoving her friend a little.

"Nah. Not when you got googly eyes and drooling all over yourself." Maya laughed.

"Sorry, can't help that my boyfriend is a total snack." Gabbie mused.

"And cheers to that!" Maya beamed and they clinked glasses.

The girls chatted with each other before Gab spotted her parents looking around before their gazes fell on to Gab and wandered over.

"Gab, we need to chat." Her father said with a firm tone. "Alone."

Gabrijela frowned but her friends all got up and left, Maya mouthing 'Come to me if you need it' and turned to go.

"Okay... What's up?" Gab was confused as to why her father looked so grim. And angry.

"Well, is there something you'd like to tell us?" Her father stared at her, his scowl was clear.

"Tell you... What?" Gabrijela seemed more confused than anything.

"Gabrijela, don't play dumb. We know you are pregnant." Her father snapped.

Gab winced and her eyes widened, "What?" She had no words.

"Lucia told us. You told your friends first without consulting with us." Her father continued.

"You should have told us so we can discuss whether you will be keeping it or not." Her mother added.

"Well, I was planning to." Gab restrained her anger, "But I wasn't going to tell you yet. I wanted to make it a surprise. But it seems you both are not happy I am pregnant, am I correct?"

"Of course not. I've never been happy with this relationship either, I do not see a good future with this man at all. Why couldn't you be with someone closer to your age? Why must you waste away your life-"

"First of all," Gab cut her father off, glaring at him, "It is none of your damn business on who I date. I love Cillian, for who he is. Not because he is an older man. I never cared about it, I care about how he treats me and how we are together. You should be happy he makes me happy." She said with a clear, hard voice. No way would she let her parents trample over her like this.

"And does he know about you being pregnant?" Her mother scoffed a little.

"Of course. And we have a plan about when I am due, he will spend the few weeks here with me. Supporting me." Gab straightened her shoulders. She wouldn't let them shit on Cillian either.

Her parents let out a sigh, "And through it? How will he support you here when he isn't here?" Her father asked.

"Of course he can't come with me to the appointments so I have Maya to help me with it. Why does it matter? He is dedicated to me and with this baby, he will do whatever he can to help me." Gabrijela said.

But the next words that came from her mother hurt the most, "Darling, I do not think this is a good idea. How will your child grow up with an old man who won't be able to keep up? I know this is hard but we can talk to a doctor about-"

Gabrijela stood, tears forming in her eyes, "How dare you! Don't you talk to me about aborting my child! Of all the people, I thought you'd be happy or at least kind about this! I cannot believe you'd think I'd choose to rid my child."

"Baby, what's going on?" Cillian had rushed over when he heard her raised voice and had seen the trio interact.

"I just- God! You are unbelievably cruel!" She was crying now, tears streaming down her face.

"Damnit Gabrijela, you are ruining your life! This whole thing is a mistake, why couldn't you just behave yourself?" Her father stood, "I do not accept what you have with this man, or what you are carrying. You are no daughter to me."

The words speared her heart, "I HATE YOU! FUCK YOU!" Gabrijela screamed and turned and ran off.

Cillian turned to her father, having had enough of this, "How could you say that to your own daughter?" Fuck being nice. This was his love and future mother to his child. "What a terrible thing to say, you should be comforting her and aiding her. Not turn her away." He shook his head, "I love her, I love our child. There is nothing you can do about it. I'd like you to reconsider your words to her and make peace if you have the heart to do so." Cillian turned and ran after Gabrijela.

Her parents were in shock but had not said anything else after him.

Gabrijela was in the bathroom, crying in one of the stalls. Maya was there, trying to comfort her and hold her. Cillian didn't care and came in, "Gabbie? My love?" He came to the closed door, he could see Maya's white dress underneath it.

Maya opened the door and let Cillian in, who gathered Gab into his arms.

"I hate them," She cried into his chest, "I can't believe they even had the guts to say such cruel things."

"Shh, I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere." He stroked her hair gently, rocking her a little.

They spent like that for a bit before he managed to walk her out, they headed out of the venue where he cleaned her face up, Maya and the rest of her friends there with her.

Though, Elijah was inside with his fiancée who was trying to calm him down and not go after Lucia who was smirking like a cat. But he didn't need to as Maya came over with her husband and told Lucia to leave.

The girl made a huge deal and a tantrum, her boyfriend super embarrassed as he had to literally lift her and carry her out of the place.

When Gab seemed to recover, Cillian held her hand as he sat beside her, his jacket around her shoulders. "I love you." He said softly, cupping her cheek and turning to face him.

She smiled a little, "I know. I love you too." She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed her head.

"Nothing will stop me from loving you. Or our child." His hand slid over her stomach.

"You are perfect, Cillian. You really are." She looked up at him, "My handsome love." She kissed him deeply.

His arms slid around her and they kissed passionately, "When we head home, I'll make you a fantastic bath." He murmured against her lips.

"Yeah? Will you be in there, a bow on your head?" She giggled softly.

"Sure, if we have one." He pecked her lips.

She was feeling a little better but she was still hurting, "Well, long as you are there, that matters most."

"Mmm, yeah." He leaned back in and kissed her again.

"Hey, come on you two. We're going to say good-bye to Maya and Ben." Elijah broke them up.

The pair stood and walked back in, hand in hand. Everyone stood in a circle as the newlywed couple went around to each person to say good-bye. Her brothers had already left earlier because of the kids and they had a long drive home tomorrow.

Eventually, they had left after another dance and the party continued on.

Gab danced with Cillian and her other friends, not meeting her parent's eyes. By midnight the party finished and Maya's remaining family cleaned up, as well as Gab and Cillian and her parents. Once that was over they drove back to the motel in total silence. Cillian took to the wheel despite Gabrijela telling him not to.

Now at the motel, Gabrijela didn't say goodnight to her parents and simply went to her room with Cillian. She undressed as he prepared a bath, cleaned her face and combed her hair before tying it up in a bun.

Cillian had finished with the bath and she wandered over, he was undressing as well and she couldn't help but watch him. "Sexy." She purred.

He laughed, facing her full-on, "That's you. Come on, let's get in." He said and helped her in before he slid behind her. He set up some music for them to listen to as they relaxed in silence. Cillian could feel Gab falling asleep and woke her up before he washed her. He got out with her and dried her and dressed her in one of his shirts and boxers.

Together they slipped into bed, him being the big spoon.

"I love you." She murmured softly.

"I love you too." He replied gently, kissing the back of her neck.

They both eventually fell asleep.

The Next Day...

Gab was glad her parents weren't coming in the same car to Maya's after-party at her parent's house. Cillian had agreed as well as they packed the car. Soon they were on the road to the country house where they were able to stay the night as well.

The party was only close friends and family, it was a clear but hot day. It was all outside but undercover thankfully. A Croatian band was playing and a little dance floor was set out.

It was nice, Gab thought. She loved weddings and always dreamed of being married to someone she loved, and she gazed at Cillian once more with that cute, small smile.

"What?" He asked as he looked at her, they were dancing.

"Nothin'. Just admiring you." She said. She wore a short yellow summer dress with white polka dots. She still had his necklace he gave her all those months ago.

"Uh-huh." He said and kissed her softly as they swayed.

The afternoon continued on with plenty of laughter, food, dancing, singing and drinking. The majority had gone home by four, but the party kept going well into the night.

Gab had fallen asleep in the egg chair as her friends chatted around her, and Cillian had come over to pick her up and take her up to the spare bedroom. He undressed her and went back down to say goodnight to everyone before he joined his love in bed.

She had rolled and snuggled close to his side, mumbling something but kept on sleeping.

He stayed awake a little, watching her peaceful state. He let his mind think and wonder, feeling totally blessed to have her with him. Tomorrow, he thought, he needed to go out to the shops and buy a few things before they left to go to their camping trip on Wednesday.

He knew what he had to do and he was nervous about it.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy fanfic #fanfiction

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years

Text

pushing 21

pushing 21 ---

shawn’s 21st birthday isn’t quite going the way he’s planned. his girlfriend breaks up with him, his best friend is in love with him, and now he’s stuck in an elevator. best or worst bday ever?

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warnings: drinking, swearing, and other fun shit words: 6k

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“You’ve gotta get up dude, this is just sad,” you say, pulling on Shawn’s arm.

He’s on a small break from tour, just a few extra days to enjoy his twenty-first birthday with friends and family from back home in New York City. Right now he was in the middle of a mental breakdown in his hotel room, while the entirety of the party waited downstairs in the restaurant and bar for him.

“No. I’m too sad to function. I’m not going down there. I’ll ring in twenty-one with a bottle of tequila and my tears,” he mutters face down into his pillow.

It had been less than six hours ago that his girlfriend of just about a year broke up with him. You’d never liked her much anyways - he deserved better than some halfwit twat with perfect hair and a pretty smile. You knew what kind of slime hid behind that veneer smile and it was probably for the best that she’d dumped him.

You tug again on his muscular arm, “she was a shitty person! You deserve better. Fuck - she did you a favor breaking up with you. Remember when she threw a hissy fit because her lipstick didn’t match her dress? You really want to deal with that the rest of your life?”

Shawn rolls his head over to glare at you, “no, but when she didn’t talk she was nice to be around.”

You roll your eyes, “she was an emotional terrorist, get your ass up.”

“No.”

“Shawn Peter-” you point your finger, “get your lame ass out of bed and get downstairs to your fucking party that all your friends and family came out here for.”

He pouts, “fine, but only because you told me to.”

Shawn manages to get himself out of bed and into a change of clothes. He still frowns and drags his feet as you pull him out of the hotel room and into the elevator like a toddler on a leash. He shuts his eyes and leans his head back against the elevator wall and folds his arms tight across his chest and you watch how the muscles in his biceps strain against the fabric of his red button up shirt. You momentarily lose your concentration and the drop of the elevator startles you.

“Hey,” he nudges your side with his elbow, opening one eye to look at you, “thanks.”

“For what?” You ask.

“For not thinking I’m such a bitch about this whole breakup thing. You’re the only one who has actually cared to help me through it.”

Your heart swells then deflates. For years you’d wanted Shawn all to yourself; unrequited love and all that bullshit. But you didn’t want to ruin a lifelong friendship over a crush, so you watched him make mistake after mistake with girls who were more interested in being seen on his arm than finding out what his favorite 80’s movie was (which is Top Gun, strangely enough). He fell for it each time and every time he got his heart stomped on. Shawn had a terrible habit of only seeing the best in people and completely ignoring all the bad.

“Oh, I still think you’re a bitch,” you joke, giving him a lighthearted smile, “but you know I’m always your shoulder to cry on.”

He rests his head on your shoulder. A few more seconds pass and the elevator doors ding open. You can see from the lobby that the party inside is already in full swing, people laughing and dancing with drinks in their hands. The low lighting makes everyone’s glow effervescent, in a warm bubble of happiness. Shawn grabs your hand, sliding his fingers through yours to interlock them. He gives your hand a squeeze before pulling you to the bar with him.

“You having your usual?” He asks and you nod, “two gin and tonics please,” he requests from the bartender.

“Go mingle, I’ll bring your drink over when it’s ready,” you say and Shawn drops your hand. You let yourself remember the warm feeling of his clammy hand in yours before letting it go. It was best to not let such things get to you.

“Alright,” he shrugs and gives you a peck on the cheek, “but don’t be too long!”

You hold your smile until he turns and walks away. It wasn’t like you were so wrapped up in being in love with him that you couldn’t function. You could, but some days were harder than others and sometimes you thought, well just get on with it and tell him, and others you were reminded that a stupid boy wasn’t worth ruining almost fifteen years of friendship over.

“Jesus Christ you look like you just watched someone get murdered,” Brian says, slinking in front of you and finishing the last sip of his beer.

“I’m fine, Bri,” you state as the bartender places the two glasses in front of you, “just dealing with Shawn and his lady troubles.”

Brian rolls his eyes and plucks up Shawn’s gin and tonic, downing it in a couple gulps, “well I’m here to enjoy myself and so should you, drink up,” he taps the side of his empty glass against your full one.

“Ah, fuck it,” you mumble to yourself, chugging down the entirety of the glass in just a few swishes. The gin burns the back of your throat slightly, the aftertaste making the inside of your cheeks tingle.

“That’s the spirit!” Brian throws his hands up, “I’ll never get why you two drink these, it tastes like fermented pine tree.”

You shrug and suck on the lime wedge that rimmed the glass, “don’t know. All I know is it gets me very drunk very quick. I’ll have two more, please,” you request from the bartender.

Brian ruffles the top of your hair, his ginger hair matching the burning flush of his bar burned cheeks, “I’ll leave you to it then, I have some girls to go talk to!”

“Be safe, Casanova!” You yell after him, he waves you off and muddles back in with the crowd.

The bartender brings over the second set of drinks and you pluck them up and begin wandering around, looking for Shawn. You find him in almost an instant, he’s boring a group of his Pickering friends to death about the history of Fender Rhodes. They all look at him with a blank stare and you giggle to yourself before coming up next to him.

“Got your drink,” you say, and his eyes light up when he sees you (or the drink, you haven’t figured that out yet).

He plucks the Gin and Tonic from your hand and wraps his free arm over your shoulders. He continues to bore his best of friends but it’s Shawn and everyone loves Shawn so they nod and let him talk until he’s done.

“No you gotta see it, let me show you -” he reaches for his pocket only to realize his phone is missing.

“Shit, do you have your phone?” He asks you.

You shake your head, “no I left it upstairs.”

His brow furrows, “why’d you leave it there?”

“I’m wearing a romper,” you reply, and he misses the mark.

“You say that like I’m supposed to understand what that means besides the fact that you have to pee naked,” Shawn puts his hand on his hips.

One of his female friends giggles, “you guys are so cute together, the banter kills me every time. Please explain to me why the two of you haven’t dated yet?”

Shawn immediately makes a face at her, “gross,” he grimaces.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you’re thankful for the dim lighting, “I don’t have any pockets, plus maybe I wanted to live in the moment instead of on my fucking phone,” you say with a little extra poison in your voice and tears burning your eyes. You excuse yourself from the group and leave the restaurant. Standing in the hotel’s lobby you debate on going back to the room or going outside, you choose outside.

It’s silly to feel like this, but you’ve always hoped that for every time his heart cracks open more from some floozy girl that it’d bring him closer to you. It never did, and you felt more and more foolish each time. Shawn was never going to be yours.

You let the warm summer air wash over you when you step outdoors onto the bustling sidewalk. The stone wall behind you is rough on your bare back as you slide down it, and you can feel all the microscopic cuts and scrapes against your flesh but physical pain is sometimes easier than emotional pain, so you welcome it in the brief moment.

A few deep breaths and you manage to soak it all back in, pushing it down into the deepest crevices inside of you. He will never be yours, and you will never be his and the sooner you realize that, the better. You can’t help but feel a little pitiful in moments like these. He’s probably back inside, talking with some new girl and talking with his friends, while you were sitting in what was probably some hobo’s old piss, feeling sorry for yourself.

“What’s got you so glum? I’m the one who got dumped on their birthday.”

You look up to see Shawn looking down at you. He looks just as melancholy as you do, his cheeks still pink and puffy from crying earlier. He chews his bottom lip waiting for an answer from you.

“Sorry - I just started feeling light headed. Lots of people, had to sit down,” you lie.

He doesn’t buy it, “you’re sitting on the pavement. I can guarantee you someone has pissed or barfed there before.”

You look down at the crumbling gray sidewalk underneath you. It probably wasn’t the cleanest place in New York City to be caught up in your feelings.

Shawn reaches his hand out to you, “here - I need to grab my phone, come with me and we’ll talk about whatever is going on, deal?”

You sigh, “do I have to?”

He crouches down, lifting your face by your chin and forcing you to look at him, “yes, you do. Want to know what’s going on with you lately.”

Shawn searches for something in your eyes but you’ve spent too many years perfecting your poker face, so he doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see your eyes pleading your love for him, doesn’t see the lines in your face from the days you’ve spent worrying over him, and misses the way you lose just a little light in your eye with you’re forced to pretend you aren’t holding back ten years of repressed love for your best friend deep inside your soul.

“Come on,” he stands up and wiggles his fingers for you to latch on, his smile widens when you do and he tugs you to your feet, brushing your hair from off your shoulders, “see, wasn’t so hard.”

His arm swings around your shoulders as you walk together towards the elevator. A girl comes running towards the two of you from the party and stops Shawn, “hey! Are you coming back?” She bites her bottom lip in that I’m trying to flirt with you but not seem obvious but in trying not to be obvious comes out as overly desperate and sad kind of way.

“Sure,” he nods, holding you a little tighter against him, “we’ll be back shortly.”

You almost miss the deadly glare she sneers at you before flashing her pearly whites at Shawn, “damn what’s that like?”

Shawn hits the up arrow on the elevator button and raises an eyebrow at you, “what’s what like?”

“Her, girls like that. Just like...being this entity that everyone wants to be with and around. She was totally flirting with you and gave me the grossest death glare when she saw your arm around me.”

He pecks your temple, “wanna go fuck her up?”

You shrug, “a little, actually.”

Shawn lets out a breathy laugh and pulls you into him as you both enter the elevator, “and it’s not like anything,” his voice is light, just above a whisper, as the doors slide shut, “I don’t want that. I do my best to avoid that. But I keep distracting myself because there’s only one thing I want.”

You look up at him and his eyes are wide, “like what?”

The doors slide open just as he presses his lips against yours, “you,” he whispers against them.

You snap back to reality when someone taps your thigh with their shoe. Your daydream and the feeling of Shawn’s soft lips fade when you look up from your hidden face to Shawn standing next to you.

“Who shit in your Apple Jacks this morning, Tiny Tits?”

He takes a sip of his drink and waits for your answer.

You groan and hide your face back in your tucked up knees, “God, I hate you. Go back inside, Shawn.”

“Alright,” he shrugs, and you tug on his pantleg.

“I’m kidding,” you say, looking up, “and my tits aren’t that tiny,” you pull at the front of your top to look, “shit who am I kidding -”

He smiles that big doofy smile that you love, “you know I wasn’t going to leave you that easy anyways, and your tits are lovely, you know I’m more of an ass man anyways and that’s all that matters. What’s up? Why are you sitting on the street?”

You cover your face again, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Shawn crouches down beside you and pulls your head up by your ponytail, he sips from the little red straw in his drink and narrows his eyes at you, “you’re a really weird fucking girl. But you’re my best friend, and I’m going to be damned if I let you sit here outside on some random New York City sidewalk even if you do refuse to tell me what’s wrong.”

You pout and he releases your hair gently, “I won’t tell you,” you pluck the drink out of his hand, “but I will finish your drink.”

Shawn scoffs and stands, “that’s it, you’re replaced. It’s Brian’s time to step up as MVP BFF. Time to hand in your friendship bracelet,” he snaps the homemade colorful plastic beads on his wrist.

You pretend to be offended and shake your matching bracelet, “how dare you. Brian would never sit up until four in the morning watching Golden Girls reruns with you.”

“That’s was supposed to be our secret!”

You both side eye each other until you crack up together.

“Come on,” Shawn reaches his hand out and you accept, “I need to run back to my room to grab my phone and could use your company. If I have to hear about another frat party I might just die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, darling,” you tut, ruffling his hair.

You bow as he holds the door open for you, “you also sat in gum,” he peels a thick glob of pink bubblegum off your butt.

“I’ve sat on worse.”

Shawn has to bite his lip to stop himself from saying what his fourteen year old boy mind wants to say, “what’s his name?” He chuckles.

You punch him hard in the bicep and he wails in faux agony, “Oh my god. You’ve done it. You’ve broken my arm. I may never play again. My career is over.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing the up button.

Shawn leans against the closed doors and pulls you in with both hands when they open, backing himself into the wall. You lose your footing and fall into him, your chest bumping into his and he has the biggest shit eating grin on his face. His arms wrap around your shoulders as he holds you closer to him.

“I’m really glad you made it here for my birthday. It wouldn’t be the same without my bestie,” he kisses your temple and you hide your blush in his shoulder.

You feel the elevator shutter and the lights flicker, you both look at each other slightly panicked, but the elevator keeps moving.

Until it doesn’t.

It stops with a jolt and the lights go out. Shawn screams a bloody murder scream and even in the darkness you slap a palm over his mouth.

“Shut up, you scream like a little girl,” you groan.

The emergency lights turn on, they’re dimmer but it at least provides some sort of light in the tiny space that seems even smaller now that you aren’t moving. You take a few steps back from Shawn to the panel by the door.

“You think anyone knows we’re stuck?” Shawn asks, coming up behind you, his hand searching for yours to hold.

Shawn’s hated the dark since you were kids. As much as you want to make fun of him in the situation, you bite your tongue and decide this wouldn’t be the best time to call him a pussy.

You punch the emergency button on the panel and hear a loud intercom beep.

“Yes, hello. How may I assist? Press the intercom button to reply,” a calm female voice says.

Shawn just looks at you and raises an eyebrow, he reaches around you to press the intercom button, “uh, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator. Just trying to get back to our room and the elevator stopped and the lights went out. Only the emergency lights are on now.”

She laughs in that weird, manufactured customer service type of way, “oh, don’t worry. Just sit tight and we’ll get it back up and running in no time! I’ll put on some soothing music to help pass the time and calm those nerves.”

You and Shawn simultaneously groan when the saxophone music starts playing. Shawn backs into the corner and plops onto the ground, “if I die in this elevator listening to Kenny G, please, please tell my mother I loved her and I lied all those years I told her I actually liked Yorkshire pudding.”

It only takes three steps to close the space between the two of you. You sit down on the floor in front of him and slap him across the face, “you’re not going to die on an elevator. And how dare you say that you don’t like Karen’s Yorkshire pudding,” you point your finger at him, “that shit is the bomb.”

“Neither of us even have a phone to tell everyone that we’re stuck in here,” he curls into a ball and lays on his side, “happy birthday to meeeee!” Shawn whines.

You lay down with him, “we’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take them long to fix it. Probably just need to restart something. You’ll get back to your party and your girls in no time,” you mock.

Shawn scrunches his face, “my girls? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not dumb Shawn. It’s your twenty-first birthday, you just got dumped. I’m sure you’ll be going to bed with someone tonight. Brian was already scoping out the game.”

“That’s Brian,” he snaps, “that’s not me.”

He sits up and folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the elevator wall, “you really think I’m some shmucky guy like that?”

“No,” you scoff, “but you’re young and successful and single and it’s your fucking birthday. I don’t know. Just thought you might want to have a little extra fun.”

“Well I’m having plenty of extra fun being stuck on this stupid elevator with you and not trying to get some girl to sleep with me just because it’s my birthday,” he says the last word in a mocking tone.

You shake your head, “you’re not having fun.”

Shawn shrugs, “I always have fun with you, no matter what we’re doing. Whether we’re at a concert or high on edibles searching for munchies on Uber Eats or stuck in an elevator on my birthday. I always enjoy the time I get to spend with you,” he nudges you with his foot, “you’re my best friend.”

Those words hit you like a thousand knives to the gut every time. Not that you didn’t love being his best friend, but it just...sucked. It sucked knowing you’d never be anything more than that to him.

“Am I more fun than Brian?” You jest, biting your lower lip.

“Of course you’re more fun than Brian, but don’t tell him I told you that. He’d probably try and kick my ass. Now come here!” He pats the empty spot next to him.

You crawl over on your hands and knees to him and he pulls you onto his lap. Situations like this aren’t so uncommon. You’ve spooned on the couch, shared a bed, slept beside each other. It was never unusual or crossing a boundary, you felt comfortable in his arms, and he felt safest when holding you.

Neither of you say anything for a few moments and just relish in the closeness of proximity and heart. Shawn taps out the beat of the terrible sax music on your skin and you wonder if it’s a musician thing or a nervous tick. Shawn had a lot of those. He sighs and rolls his head over to to look at you and you purse your lips into someone of a smile and he shuts his eyes.

Something clicks inside Shawn then, a soft of realization of all his pieces fitting into place and it just fucking clicks. Looking at you, stuck alone in an elevator while his friends and family were all downstairs to celebrate him. He wasn’t even the slightest bit mad. He couldn’t even find a drop of it hidden somewhere deep in him to justify. Being here, with you, was the only place he wanted to be, and you were the only person he wanted to be with.

It. Just. Fucking. Clicks.

You were always the girl who was around to lift his spirits after a bad day, openly talked to him about his struggles with mental illness without (much) judgement, he loves you. Like, really fucking loves you and he can’t figure out why every time he gets into a relationship with some dull girl he can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s not even like that. He doesn’t picture you naked (except maybe that one or twenty times), he thinks about how your day went; how your classes were. Did you enjoy your morning latte from your favorite coffee shop? Did you get to pet Mrs. Tanguay’s cat on the way home from work?

Shawn finally realizes the reason why you take up a hundred and fifty percent of his brain;

He’s in love with you too.

His mum always said it happens like that too; you’ll stumble over yourself a thousand times before you realize what (or in this case, who is right in front of you). She always says that you don’t fall in love, you just sort of find it. He realizes he’s been stumbling for years and feels a burning hate for how long it’s taken him to figure it out.

A sort of sweaty nervousness crawls up his skin and suddenly he’s nervous to touch you. He’s hot and cold all at once and his fingertips shake as he holds you tighter.

“Shawn your heart is racing,” you shift your body to look at him, “is it the small space? Are you going to have a panic attack? This music is so not calming -”

“I’m fine,” he lies.

He’s thankful when the intercom beeps and the woman on the other side speaks, “okay kids! We’ve got eyes on you and you’re going to be just fine! We have the fire department coming out to get you. You’re stuck between floors so it might take them a couple hours -”

“HOURS!?” You both yell in unison.

Shawn scrambles to the panel on the elevator wall and presses the intercom button, “ma’am I know it’s not your fault and I know you’re just doing your job but we really can’t be stuck in this elevator for hours.”

She does that creepy little giggle again, “oh not to worry! I’ll play some more music for you, and we’ll make sure the NYFD are to you shortly!”

Defeated, Shawn throws up his hands and sprawls across the floor. You crawl closer to him and lay down, resting your head on his stomach, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending your twenty-first birthday,” you chuckle.

Shawn groans, “actually, it’s us. I can believe it.”

You snort, “this is kinda like the time we went to Portugal to visit your grandma and got stuck in her garden shed for six hours.”

“I’m almost positive she locked us in there.”

“True, we were really annoying as kids, weren’t we?” You chuckle.

Shawn finds your hand and holds it in his, resting your intertwined fingers on his chest, “we’re really annoying as adults.”

“Valid.”

---

“Okay...would you rather: open mouth kiss a frog, or let someone with braces give you a blowjob?”

Shawn scoffs, “I swore after Lizzy McDonald in tenth grade I would never let someone with braces give me a blowjob. I don’t trust all that metal near my Crown Jewels. I’ll take the frog.”

You’re both laying on your backs, side by side with your legs raised in the air and resting against the elevator wall. According to Shawn’s watch, it’s 3am, meaning his party ended roughly two hours ago. Without either of you having phones and no way to reach your friends downstairs, you’re only certain that when you finally do get to your room, there will be a mass of text messages and missed calls.

“Fair enough. My turn. Would you rather -”

You stop when the elevator shakes and the main lights flicker back on. You and Shawn stare at each other as the elevator begins moving again. Scrambling to stand, you throw your arms around each other to hug in celebration, and breathe a massive sigh of relief when the doors open to your floor.

As predicted, there are missed calls and texts from...everyone. The two main conclusions are: Shawn was sad that he got dumped on his birthday and decided to cry about it in his room and...you two were “finally” hooking up.

“Honestly, I’m so fucking tired that I don’t even care to respond right now. I’ll explain everything to everyone in the morning,” Shawn says, throwing himself on the king sized bed.

You sit next to him, “I feel bad we didn’t get to celebrate your birthday though,” you rub his back through his shirt, “do you still want to go out and do something?”

“I still have that bottle of tequila if you wanna crack that open,” he suggests, although his groggy voice pressed into the mattress begs otherwise.

You lay down beside him, “don’t have to, you know. We can do whatever. Go to bed, if you want, although that’s super fucking lame.”

“Welcome to the Super Fucking Lame Show starring Shawn Mendes,” he deadpans.

You smack his butt and sit back up, “no! I’m not going to let you be lame. We just got stuck on a goddamn elevator for nearly five hours, there is no way in Hell I am letting you miss out on your birthday.”

Shawn rolls onto his back, “actually technically it’s not even my birthday anymore.”

You point a finger at him, “don’t push me, Mendes. Put your shoes back on.”

He unwillingly obliges, but not before dumping out a water bottle and filling it with tequila.

“What are we, fifteen again?” You snark.

He takes a swig, his face scrunching as the liquid burns down his throat, “here for a good time not a long time,” he says, handing you the bottle.

It’s not until you feel the liquid fire down your throat that you forget how much you fucking hate tequila. Shawn caps the bottle and shoves it in your purse before slinging it over his shoulder, “have to hold the purse for m’lady.”

You cringe, “please don’t ever call me that again.”

His heart drops to his ass when you give him that look. It’s not a new or different look, it’s the one when he says or does something stupid that you find funny but you’ll never admit it out loud. It’s the look when he warms your heart but you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he did. But he does, and he knows. Every time.

“So where are we going?” He asks as you walk to the elevator.

Before answering, you both exchange glances before blurting “stairs” in unison.

“There’s a really cute diner I saw on Instagram. They make these like, crazy looking big ass waffle things with like candy and ice cream on them. All sorts of stuff. It’s open twenty-four hours so I figured we could try it out.

Shawn shrugs, “after everything that’s happened today, honestly fuck everything. I’m ready to eat this entire city.”

You laugh and he grabs your hand. He forgets how good it feels, even though he’s held it about a thousand times during the course of your friendship. The two of you practically run down the stairs, hand in hand, panting once you’ve reached the last floor.

The hotel lobby is dead, the lights of the restaurant are dark and everything is empty except for the night desk clerk behind the hotel’s front desk. Shawn pulls the water bottle of tequila from your purse and takes a swig before passing it to you.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you take another shot of it. This one goes down easier but the burn is still there. You blame the lack of food in your system, and being a light weight for the fuzzy feeling that you start feeling in your head.

The warm summer night air hits you like a thousand bricks in the face. It’s thick and hot, low and heavy in the sky. The humidity had risen significantly since you were last outdoors and your skin is already feeling damp and clammy. Shawn never lets go of your hand though. You find it strange because he’ll do it here and there, but then drop it because he’s too busy on his phone, or he just needs to break the contact. But now, despite the warm clamminess of his hands, you weren’t letting go either.

Luckily the diner isn’t too far. When you arrive there’s only a few people. It’s not until the fluorescent lights hit you that you realize how tipsy you are. You practically stumble into the booth with Shawn sitting across from you, a blaze in his cheeks and a crooked smile on his face.

“Do you think we can get one of everything?” He asks, looking up at you over the top edge of the menu.

“You’re paying, so you can order whatever you want.”

He slams the menu down, “but it’s my birthday.”

You look at your phone, “not as of...four hours ago. Now it’s just Friday.”

Shawn’s eyes narrow and he picks the menu back up, “fuck, you’re good.”

He playfully kicks your foot under the table and you can’t help but smile at him. You both order coffee and the kind waitress pours it into two matching white mugs with roadmap-like hairpin cracks along the edge of the mouth. The jukebox in the corner plays oldies music and Shawn sways his body back and forth to the rhythm.

He finally settles on two different entrees: the chicken and waffles stack, and the birthday cake pancakes. You order a simple omelette with the promise of being able to pick at some of Shawn’s food (he only puts up a fight because he thinks you’re cute when you’re mad at him for saying no).

The two of you gobble up your food quickly, taking sneaky shots of tequila between bites and by the time you’re finished you’re both too buzzed to stop laughing at each other. There’s something different about him now, in the way that he looks at you. You’re not sure if it’s the booze or the late hour playing tricks on your mind but he looks at you like he’s in love, like he’s staring at the whole world in front of him. His brown eyes go soft and his lips curl upward ever so slightly and it takes all of your willpower not to trace them with your finger, to memorize every dimple and curve of his face and how it feels under your fingertips.

He knows you love him back - he supposes he known all along but always thought you were too good to love someone like him like that. You were too giving, too caring, too fucking perfecly made for him for you to ever be in love with him too. And now in his drunken haze he figures now is probably the most perfect time to tell you how he feels.

But instead he throws up on the black and white patterned linoleum.

After a thousand and one apologizes to the waitress, the two of you pay and stumble back out onto the streets of New York. The humidity feels even more impossibly heavy now and you can feel a line of sweat building around your hairline. Shawn’s already sweaty from vomiting, and this surely isn’t helping. You make a quick stop at a bodega for a bottle of water and a pack of minty chewing gum and end up on a bench outside the gates of central park.

“Feeling better?” You ask, taking a sip of your water.

Shawn shakes his head no, “I’m never drinking straight tequila again.”

You shrug, “they do say it’s all downhill after twenty-one.”

“Who’s they?” He asks.

You bob your head from side to side, “me, I’m they.”

“You’ve been saying everything’s downhill since you were ten.”

You snap your gum, “very true.”

It’s terrifying, Shawn thinks, to know someone inside and out. But he knows you in all of your facets, good and bad and he loves you for each and every one of them. He loves how stubborn you are, for all the right reasons. You aren’t stubborn for the sake of being difficult, but because you’re passionate about the things you love and also you do get a strange thrill of getting a rise out of him sometimes. Shawn feels himself falling for you harder as each second passes, admiring the most seemingly insignificant pieces of you. The more he free falls the more guilt builds up that he’s wasted so much time and so much of his heart on people who didn’t deserve it when he could’ve given it to you from the start but he promises himself there on that park bench that he will spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

Shawn rests his head on your shoulder, “the suns coming up soon,” he yawns.

“Want to head back now?” You ask.

“No,” he points ahead between two buildings that give a perfect view of the horizon, “I want to watch it with you.”

You smile and rest your head on top of his, looping your arm through the crook of his and curling into his side, “Shawn,” you say.

“Yeah?” His answer is barely a whisper.

“I love you.”

You’re the first one to say it and despite the hundred times you’ve played this moment out in your head you aren’t scared. You suppose it’s the dwindling alcohol processing through your system that’s making you brave but you’re not scared for his response. It feels so fucking good to say it out loud after so long.

“I know,” Shawn says, squeezing you tighter, “and I love you too.”

You lift your head to look at him, your brain unable to process the words that just left his tongue. He’s looking at you in that soft way he has been all night and morning.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it,” he finishes.

You don’t say anything, and he kisses you soft and slow, as the sun rises and pours its light between skyscrapers, flooding the city with a new, beautiful day.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst

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yungimmortals · 3 years

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cheers to forty years | jaime & cleo

date: february 14, 2021

summary: brunch, bitch!

Cleo was late. Only by five or ten minutes, which was... pretty good for "Cleo time". Upon spotting Jaime from behind sitting outside at the cafe, Cleo resisted the urge to toss her arms around him, instead she just held her hands in front of his eyes, suppressing a small laugh. “Here alone, hot stuff?” She smiled and rested her cheek against the top of his head. “Such a shame for someone to be alone on Valentine’s Day.” She did let out a small laugh at this, then moved so she could kiss the side of his head.

Jaime stirred his coffee, inhaling through his nose and smiling contentedly as he exhaled. When hands covered his eyes, he jumped ever so slightly, letting out a laugh when he heard Cleo's voice. "I was, and I was feeling rather down in the dumps. But now that you're here, everything's better." He angled his head when Cleo kissed the top of it, smiling brightly at her before brandishing a small bouquet of flowers that had been resting on his lap, hidden from view. "For you."

Cleo had the emotional stability of a woman in a Russian novel, and the flowers were almost enough to send her over the edge. She willed the tears back from her eyes, determined not to cry this Valentine’s day, and hugged Jaime from behind. “You’re so wonderful.” She took the flowers with a watery smile and moved to sit across from him, digging through her bag for a moment before she handed him a small jar full of pink salt and rose petals. “For you,” she repeated back to him. “Now neither of us are down in the dumps.” She cradled the bouquet carefully before setting it down to look at the menu. “Do you know what you’re getting? And have you ordered us a round of mimosas yet?”

Jaime gave Cleo's arms a squeeze as she wrapped them around his middle, already sensing she was feeling a bit on the sappy side. "So are you," he responded, cheerfully, giving his coffee another stir as she sat down. His eyes widened in surprise as Cleo handed him a jar and he accepted it with a smile, playfully teasing, "What's this? A little spell?" When Cleo picked up a menu, Jaime tapped the edge of his coffee cup with his fingers. "You're right, today will be fantastic. I do, I took a peek at the menu while I was waiting for my coffee to come down from scald-the-roof-of-my-mouth hot...though I did learn that the hard way." He nodded, pretending to look wounded at the idea he would have forgotten. "Of course I did, they should be here shortly." As if on cue, a server walked their way, brandishing a tray of two mimosas and a pitcher in one hand, and a notebook in the other. Jaime asked them for another minute to give Cleo time to look over the menu and when they left, he nudged one mimosa towards himself. "How was that for timing?"

“Spell jar! You don’t need to do anything with it, just put it in your room or next to a mirror or... by your bed.” Cleo laughed. “Complain to the owner! Waiter, my coffee wasn’t the perfect temperature, please bring it back, I will accept my apology in writing only.” She pressed her mouth into her shoulder to keep from making eye contact with the server she’d just been making a joke about, and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at Jaime, face pink. “Perfect timing.” She took her mimosa and grinned at Jaime, her eyes shining. “This is so perfect and amazing, thank you.” She blinked quickly and held her glass out towards him. “To Jaime Culpepper, my wonderful husband of forty years.”

"A spell jar? I love it. It'll get a place of honor on my nightstand." Jaime smiled as Cleo laughed, adding to her joke. "A formal apology in writing, delivered by raven. The only way to apologize." He too had to stifle laughter, waiting until the server left to chuckle. Circling his fingers around the stem of the glass, he lifted it, tapping the edge to Cleo's and enjoying the light clink of the glass. "Anything for my lovely wife, dammit," Jaime gave her an affectionate smile. "I can't believe it's be forty years already. It seems like just yesterday that we first met."

Cleo beamed at Jaime's words, filled to the brim with affection for her friend. She took a sip of her drink and then pressed her fingertips into the skin beneath her eyes to keep herself stable. "Stop, you're being too cute." She laughed and took another sip of her drink, obviously having no inhibitions drinking in the morning if it was Valentine's day. "Not to be sappy, but I'm really glad I met you." She blinked quickly. "And I'm really glad to be having brunch with you today." She tilted her head back as her voice cracked, keeping the tears back through the force of gravity.

Jaime took a sip of his mimosa, setting the glass down to return Cleo's bright smile. He laughed as she held her face, and shook his head, trying to make her laugh as he added, "Forty years and forty more! You'll see. Our marriage will outlast Zoe and Brett, and they've been together for eons." A wave of sentimentality swept over Jaime at Cleo's words and he reached his hand over the table to give hers a light squeeze. "I'm really glad I met you too. And please, be as sappy as you like! Every day and today especially. It's your favorite holiday," Jaime withdrew his hand to pick up his glass, tipping it in Cleo's direction before he spoke again. "I'm honored to be your brunch buddy. You're one of my best friends, you know." As she tipped her head back, he knew she was trying not to cry and worried his words had been too much for his favorite Pisces.

Cleo shook her head, still grinning. "Absolutely not! I will not have it. We will both last forever, because a world without Zoe and Brett is one I don't want to see." As Jaime took her hand, Cleo pulled it towards her so that she could rest her cheek against it, squeezing her eyes shut. "It is my favourite holiday," she said quietly as she dropped his hand, somehow feeling so good and bad at the same time. She reached up to press finger into the skin around her eyes again, but there were too many tears to keep contained. "You're one of my best friends too!" She dipped her head forward and picked up her napkin, blotting her eyes. "Okay, I promise I'm gonna stop this right now." She sniffed and picked up her glass to take another sip of her mimosa.

"I'll drink to that," Jaime smiled, thinking about their friends and their love. The thought made him feel warm and fuzzy; Cleo pulling his hand up to her cheek only exacerbated that feeling. He took a sip of his mimosa, setting it down just as tears began to run down his friend's face. "Oh, Cleo," he said fondly, shaking his head as he offered Cleo a napkin. "It's okay! Let it out if you need to. Is everything okay?"

Cleo took the napkin gratefully and dabbed at her face, careful not to mess up the makeup she'd worn for the occasion. "Yeah." She sniffled and topped her half-empty glass up, swiping below her eyes as she took a quick breath in to compose herself a bit. "I just have a bad habit of getting my hopes up."

Watching Cleo fill her glass, Jaime nodded but didn't press the subject. "You have a big heart and you're very in tune with your feelings." He was about to say something else equally encouraging when the waiter approached their table again. Jaime placed an order of vegan french toast with fresh fruit on top and looked to Cleo for her order.

Cleo managed to stop crying and smiled ruefully as she shook her head. “Ugh,” she pronounced. “It’s because I like men, Jaime.” The waiter seemed rather uncomfortable as they caught the end of their conversation out of context. She looked up at them and ordered, then waited for them to leave before she looked back to Jaime. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Oh my gods, they totally think we’re a couple fighting on Valentine’s day. When they come back, I’ll give back the ring. You throw the rest of your mimosa in my face.” She was smiling once more. “Give ‘em a whole show.”

"You and I both," Jaime said solemnly, fighting to hide a smile before the waiter walked away. "It's our fatal flaw. Men? Psh." He waved his hand, dismissing the topic, smiling at Cleo's devious idea. "Oh, I couldn't. You look so cute, it would ruin your makeup, your outfit," Jaime laughed. "But...if you wanted the thrill of throwing your drink on someone? I will gladly take the fall. I've never had a drink dumped on me, you know. First time for everything."

Cleo took Jaime’s hand with both of hers. “Aw, I could never do that to you. At brunch,” she added after a moment. She sighed and rested her cheek on his hand again. “What if I go full lesbian? Will you help me find a girl?” She finished her drink and then took a sip of her water, dropping his hand. “I’m sure plenty have tried to adopt you. Get a few numbers for me.”

He smiled, placing his other hand atop Cleo's as he joked, "Are you sure? Offer's open. If you catch me by surprise, the act will be all the more believable." Jaime chuckled. "You could," he mused. "I'd absolutely be your wingman. Girls love me. Give me a week, I'll see what I can do." He reached for his water this time, pausing with the glass halfway to his lips as he had an idea. "Not to change the subject completely," Jaime laughed. "But...depending on your plans for the day, would you want to help me with—" He tugged at the front of his hair, where the tips were dyed a forest-y green. "I'm thinking of going full green. Maybe make the tips a little lighter, or yellow. I don't know. Thoughts?"

"Now that you've put that idea in my head, I'm not sure I can resist." Cleo grinned at Jaime, then groaned. "Ugh, we do love you, Jaime!" She reached up a hand to rest her chin on and smiled more at him. "Oooo, full green, yeah! Let's do limey for the tips? It'll probably turn yellow soon." She tugged at a strand of pink hair. "I think I'm already tired of the pink. Maybe I'll do blue next? And maybe... I'm tired of my hair looking like this."

"Lime it is!" Jaime beamed at Cleo as her smile grew. "I give you full creative control of my new and improved hairdo." He tilted his head, eyeing her hair. "Blue would be so pretty on you! It would bring out your eyes too, I think. If you're tired of it, change it up. I can give you a haircut," he teased, trusting Cleo to know that he would never do such a thing. "What are you thinking?"

Cleo laughed. “Okay, but don’t expect what’s happening in my mind’s eye to also happen on your head, because I’m just following Youtube tutorials.” She batted her eyelids at the mention of blue bringing out her eyes, and rested both hands on her cheeks and her elbows on the table. “I think... that’s what I want, actually. A haircut.”

"We'll make an offering to the YouTube gods for good luck." He waved his hand, nonchalant as he smiled. "A haircut! I support this. How short? Like mine? Or like, here?" Jaime held his hand just below his chin, mimicking a bob.

Cleo laughed. “Or the gods of hair? Aphrodite, for beauty?” She smiled at Jaime, thankful and assured by his enthusiasm that this was not an emotional decision. She held her hand up to just above her shoulders. “Here?”

Jaime lightly smacked his forehead. "Aphrodite, of course. Can't let her think I've forgotten her, I'll set aside some of my brunch to her." Seeing the length Cleo was going for, he nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes! That would look so good. I love it. Do you— Do you want to do this today? Or plan a day this week? We can take over the bathroom in my apartment, I'll give Xavier a head's up so he knows."

“You should,” Cleo said, completely serious even if Jaime was joking. She blushed at the idea of cutting her hair, but it was so appealing, and she felt that she was in need for a change. “Um, any time works. Today, tomorrow... You’re the virgo! You tell me what works for you. If there were scissors here right now I’d chop it.”

“I will,” Jaime confirmed with a nod, knowing better than to falsely claim to make an offering and fail to do so. He rested a hand on his chin, leaning his elbow on the table. “Let’s do...later today! Are you still hanging out with Zo? I know she’s your real Valentine,” he laughed. “You can come over whenever you feel like it. After we’re done here, I can pick up some hair dye and whatever other supplies we need.”

“Of course I’m still hanging out with Zo. What kind of wife would I be if I only hung out with one of my spouses?” Cleo laughed and reached across the table with both hands for Jaime’s. “Ugh, perfect, let’s do it. Don’t tell anyone. I might blurt it out to Zoe but I want it to mostly be a surprise. We’re gonna look so cute.”

Jaime laced his fingers through Cleo's, amused to think that onlookers would assume they had made up. He laughed, "You're right. A loving and beautiful wife, who spends holidays with both her partners." Nodding, Jaime let go of one of her hands to mime locking his lips and tossing away the key with a smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

#m: jaime #jaime&cleo #jaime&cleo 002

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paimaniagalaxia · 5 years

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An 'Angel's' Promise

Written by: Paimania Galaxia and Jordanthecat11

Ties in with these parts: AFTERMATH(1) and AFTERMATH(2)

Summary: Once Dandy leaves on good terms with Margo Magic, he comes and offers his assistance with his beloved girlfriend, Bow Von Verde. While the two are busy setting up shop, they get an unexpected visitor. A certain wife of Dandy’s exposes who the demon truly is before his new partner.

Paimania Galaxia

The little cat, Bendy-Look-A-Like Dandy enjoys being on the mortal world. Sure, Hell was his home as he went under the name of 'Satan' down there. In his defense, after a long sought deal with a certain demon he allied with-- Best to stay away for now. To retreat and relax with his beloved girlfriend Bow Von Verde. As he decided to help her stock up the shop for today. Lining up bow ties in the right color configuration, just like his Love likes it.

JordantheCat11

Meanwhile, Bow was dusting the shelves while humming a merry tune. She was happy that Dandy was here with her today to help out. She loved this little devil so much despite the numerous times he tried to scare her for fun. He was a sweetheart to her and she wouldn't trade her relationship with him for anything else.

Once she was done dusting, she put the duster down and looks at the bowties that Dandy has assembled for her. "Excellent job, my little darling devil~" she said cheerily with a smile. "You even got the color configuration down to a tea. My customers are gonna love them!"

Paimania Galaxia

"Oh they will love your mighty fine dandy work my dearest slice of key lime pie!" Dandy grins his signature, stolen grin. As he boops Bow's nose in a playful manner. "Nothing else compares to you Bow..." He sighs happily, as he hadn't meet anyone other mortal like her in a long while.

Well... Besides the cold shiver he suddenly got, as a hint of apples fill the air. "Oh boy..."

JordantheCat11

Bow couldn't help but giggle at Dandy's compliment and nose boop, as she always loved how playful he would be with her. He always knew how to make her smile first thing in the morning.

"Well, I'd better go turn the sign over and open up shop," Bow replied, giving Dandy a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around to open the store door.

Paimania Galaxia

With the sign turned around, an elegant womanly figure shadows the front door. Her hair fringe covers one side of her face, her cat like ears flick irritated, and her horns were visible.

"Care to open the door young miss... I would like to enter..."

JordantheCat11

"Just a second, ma'am," Bow replied, turning the key to open the door for her first customer. She couldn't help but find the woman beautiful and she had a nice scent of apple to her. "Welcome to Bow's Emporium! I'm the store owner, Bow Von Verde. Please, feel free to check the place out and let me know if I can help you out with anything."

Paimania Galaxia

"Oh... How quaint..." She replies as she enters in, fiddling with the upside down cross ribbon that connected her dress to her choker. The elegant mother of beasts looks around and eyes Dandy, and glares angrily at him. "Funny seeing you here darling, never thought dear old Satan would hide out from his three kings in a dump like this..."

Dandy just stood there in horror and in shock, that woman. That woman was his wife, the one who he brought down to the path of night with, and allowed his charm to have those lips sink into the apple of knowledge-- Lilith. And she just casually addresses him as if he was in his real from! In front of Bow! As he hadn't nor would ever tell her about his true origins. Well, that truth has came out.

JordantheCat11

Bow blinked in confusion by this woman's words. "Um...I-I'm sorry...I'm not sure what you're talking about," Bow replied innocently. She turned over to the direction that the woman was facing, which was at Dandy. Seeing that look of worry on his face made her feel concerned for him. "Dandy...honey? Is everything okay?" she asked him as she walked over to him.

Paimania Galaxia

"No... Let's go with no." Dandy replies, as much as he wanted to lie. There was no use in doing so, his wife knew all his tricks and dealings. There was no way in his realm that he was going to outsmart her. Lilith seemed too angry and keen to get her way with exposing him in front of Bow. "That lady, that monster you've let in... Is Lilith... My wife..." Dandy explains, seeing that the Mother of Demons was too busy looking around the shop to listen.

JordantheCat11

"Wait...what?" Bow was now shocked beyond belief. She trusted Dandy more than anyone else, and hearing those words from him... She looked over at the woman before looking back at Dandy. "You...you're married? Since when??"

Paimania Galaxia

"Since she took a bite out of the apple of knowledge... If you ever go to church or heard of MY story..." Dandy answers back, admitting that he was the one and only Satan.

JordantheCat11

"Wait...wait wait wait wait wait! Wait!" Bow was having a hard time processing this. She didn't want to believe him, but she knew he wouldn't lie to her...or at least, she thought she did. "So...you mean to tell me that you're LITERALLY the devil, and you've been posing as a toon all this time, using me to cheat on your wife that you didn't even have the nerve to tell me about before we started dating?!"

Paimania Galaxia

Dandy goes dead silent as he could only nod. Well, he needed to fix one part of her conclusion. "The cheating part... Is a bit of a stretch. We aren't technically married since that kind of binding is considered as a holy ceremony... I was kind of paranoid you would be too scared to date someone as evil as I am."

JordantheCat11

Bow was now on the verge of tears, as she felt betrayed that Dandy lied to her. Her first instinct was to cry in his arms, but she just kept her distance and shook her head.

"I can't believe this...I gave everything for you, thinking that you loved me. But you had the nerve to lie to me and use me for your own selfish gain!" She didn't bother to hold back on her sobs as she covered her hands with her face and ran to the other side of the store.

Paimania Galaxia

Dandy was shook to see her crying like this, he didn't mean to hurt her like this. He couldn't help shed a tear as she left him alone with Lilith. He wanted to say that he did love her, more than his so-called wife. There was no one else who he rather be with than with her.

"B-Bow...Bow please come back to me... It's not like that! I'm not like that..."

"But you are and WHO you are shall remain that way... You are Lucifer, you are Satan... You are The Devil..." Lilith remarks and yanks Dandy up by his bow, choking him. "Funny, you managed to destroy Beelzebub by teaming up with a family whom you used to DESPISE the most, but you seem a lot weaker now that you’ve made peace with them. Couldn't even bother facing your subjects with humiliation, no. You resigned to your so-called ‘mafia crew’ and then came here for forgiveness and love from that batty bitch you call a girlfriend... Pathetic.."

JordantheCat11

Bow ran over to her office and hid behind her desk as she cried hysterically. She hated that Dandy was keeping secrets from her, especially ones about their relationship. She hated that the woman had the nerve to come back looking for him and tell her first before he did. But most of all, she hated that she was feeling upset, angry, and torn all at once.

Her bat ears suddenly perked up as she heard Lilith say all those mean things to Dandy. Oh no...she was going to hurt him! Bow needed to do something! Even though she hated Dandy for lying, she still loved him and wanted to keep being with him whether he was the little toon or the giant devil. She quietly snuck out and peeked behind one of the shelves to see what was going on.

Paimania Galaxia

Dandy gasps and squirms around in Lilith’s grasp. She was right, his power was depleted till he gotten more souls in Hell. For now, a lot more people were being righteous than prideful.

“So what you’re going to do to me...? Killing is out of the option, you can always subject me to being chained to my throne. It worked the last couple of centuries or so...” Dandy jokes playfully.

“No... I have something better in mind... I heard a halo snapped. An angel got demoted...” Lilith replies back. “A toon one mind you, and when a halo breaks...”

Dandy widens his eyes and shook his head. “No no! Anything but that!!” He cries back in horror. “I don’t want to be an angelic replacement!!”

JordantheCat11

Bow couldn't watch anymore of this. She needed to do something now or else Lilith would hurt Dandy. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed an old umbrella from the coat rack to use it as a weapon.

"Hey!" Bow screamed, swinging the umbrella at Lilith. "Leave him alone! He said no!" She managed to land a good hit to her face, though she's not sure if it was strong enough to make her let go of Dandy.

Paimania Galaxia

Lilith get the smack to the face with the umbrella, she pushes it to the side with one hand.

“No? No isn’t worth stopping me...” She retorts back as she makes Dandy glow. Hearing him scream in pain, brought a smile to her face before she drops him. “Welcome back, Lucifer the Angel...”

JordantheCat11

Bow gasps, as seeing Dandy in so much pain from the transformation let her guard down. She ran over to him, dropping the umbrella.

"Dandy!" she screams, putting her hands on his face. "Dandy, please! Please be okay! I-I'm sorry! I should've stayed when you told me everything instead of running away! Please, forgive me!" She cried once again, but this time, she embraced Dandy instead of pushing him away.

Paimania Galaxia

Lucifer groans as he felt someone warm embrace him. He slowly opens his piecut eyes, as his bangs barely cover his gaze to see Bow. Holding him and crying for him to forgive her. He reaches his hand down and rubs her cheek, showing he was okay.

JordantheCat11

Bow could feel Dandy's touch on her cheek as she hugged him. He was alive. She was so relieved that she looked up to see his face. He did look different now as an angel, but she didn't care. She was just too happy to see him.

"Oh, Dandy..." She couldn't help but kiss him lovingly on the lips and hug him even closer. "I love you! I don't care what you are! Toon, devil, angel, doesn't matter! I still want to be with you! And I want to know you feel the same for me."

Paimania Galaxia

“Call me Lucifer sweetheart...” Lucifer smiles as he kisses her back in return. He could feel the cold stare beam down from Lilith, but he didn’t care. As a grin stretches across his face, facing his wife.

“Go back to hell where you belong, I’m a bit busy fulfilling my angelic duties...” He teases as he kisses Bow’s nose playfully.

Lilith scowls in disgust, as her plan to humiliate her horrid husband failed. “Stay that way! See if I care!” She barks before teleporting away within a puff of smoke. Leaving off a lingering smell of rotten apples.

JordantheCat11

Bow was glad that the woman was finally gone. She hoped she wouldn't try to come back to get her revenge on her or Lucifer, but that thought would be saved for another day. She needed to bring in some closure between her and her boyfriend.

"Okay, that's enough," Bow said, gently pushing Lucifer away. "While I appreciate you returning the affection...that doesn't excuse the fact that you lied to me about who you were or what happened. If you really do value our relationship and want to still be with me, then I want you to tell me the truth. Okay?"

Paimania Galaxia

Now she did make a fair point, that he was wrong to keep his true self a secret from her. But he had a reason, and he wanted to tell her.

“I will, and I was truly scared to tell you who I was... I have dated other mortals before, time and time again they ran away. Because they saw me as this beast who would harm them and hurt them whenever I so please. I grace and cherish the ones I adore, and you... You are better than anyone else I’ve meet. Even more than Lilith... Or if I did tell you sooner... I would of been in hell, mourning over you...”

JordantheCat11

Bow took the time to listen to his story, paying careful attention as he gave her every detail. She believed every word now than she did before when Lilith was there. And hearing those words made her feel sentimental.

"Dandy--I mean, Lucifer..." she corrected herself, trying to get used to his real name. "All I cared about was you being honest with me. Yes, normally I wouldn't embrace the idea of dating the actual devil, but...something about you doesn't make me feel so afraid to do so..."

Paimania Galaxia

“You... You mean that...?” Lucifer replies in an amazed awe. Never before he heard someone just care about being honest with another over looks. It made him smile. “Heh... Thank you.”

JordantheCat11

"Of course I do," Bow replies, smiling back. "And I want to believe that you can do better about being honest with me. That you can help me make our relationship stronger..." She let out a sigh before giving him a straighter, more serious face. "But I don't want to just believe it. I want to see it with my own eyes. I want you to prove to me that you can change your ways. And since you're an angel now...I want you to make a solemn promise with me. Do you think you'd be willing to do that?"

Paimania Galaxia

Lucifer hasn’t done a promise like that in centuries, but this was for Bow. So that their relationship could stay pure and true. He places a hand over his heart and holds up his hand.

“I Lucifer, Angel of the Morning Star, solemnly swears to be loyal and honest to thy beloved girlfriend Bow Von Verde in this angelic body for winched thou cursed by remain and forever stay in... For love and for thy love for thee my dearest Bow... Amen...”

JordantheCat11

Bow nodded acknowledgment as Lucifer finished his oath. She prayed that he would be given the strength to improve and continue to support her and their relationship. She even prayed that she would be strong enough to not only stand up for him, but to him if she thought something didn't seem right. After all, communication was key in any given relationship.

"Thank you..." Bow replied, her smile slowly returning.

Paimania Galaxia

“You’re welcome my dear...” Lucifer smiles and hears something sliver his way. “My snake! Crowley!” He kneels down as a small green room snake curls around his arm and purrs happily. “Bow! This is Crowley! He helped me tricked my bitchy wife way back when! He came up with the name Satan for me. Everyone thought it was me, nooope! This guy tricked everyone!”

Crowley snickered through his fangs as he nodded.

JordantheCat11

“O-oh...I see,” Bow stammered, as the sight of the snake made her nervous. She really wasn’t into creepy things, especially around Halloween, but she wanted to try to be brave and meet him for Lucifer. “W-will he bite if I pet him?”

Paimania Galaxia

“No no, he is not a biter.” Lucifer informs Bow as he holds out his arm. Allowing Crowley to sliver over to meet eye to eye with Bow.

JordantheCat11

Taking a couple deep breaths to calm her nerves, Bow reaches her gloved hand out to Crowley and pets his scales slowly and gently.

“H-hi,” she greeted the snake with a nervous smile.

Paimania Galaxia

Crowley grins happily as he nuzzles his head against her hand.

JordantheCat11

Bow was surprised by how accepting Crowley was to her touch. Even nuzzled her back. She felt much calmer now than she did at first and it made her happy and relieved.

“Aww...he likes me,” she comments, petting him more.

Paimania Galaxia

“He only lets others who I trust to pet him...” Lucifer replies back with a smile. “I guess Lilith decided to let him go... Since after all, she hated how attached I was with him.”

JordantheCat11

“Was he originally her pet?” Bow asked curiously.

Paimania Galaxia

“No, he was mine. God let me create something to call my own. So I made him.” Lucifer smiles and lets Crowley sliver back up hid arm and nuzzles his cheek.

JordantheCat11

“Oh, I see,” Bow replies, watching Crowley crawl back to his master. “So she held him captive while you were away from heaven, I’m guessing?”

Paimania Galaxia

“No again... She took him away once I brought her down to hell. She was very rough with him...” Lucifer replies back as he heard Crowley whining. As he hated that woman.

JordantheCat11

“I’m so sorry...that’s terrible,” Bow said, going back over to pet Crowley in comfort. “I’m glad he’s okay now and that he’s with you again. I wouldn’t want any pet to be taken away from me.”

Paimania Galaxia

“I appreciate the kindness and sympathy Bow...” Lucifer smiles happily. “So... Shall we make sure this shop is ready for business? I think Lilith left her stench behind. Could use a few scented candles...”

JordantheCat11

“Oh, of course, my Morning Star,” Bow replied, giving him a cheek kiss before going over to her office. “I have some candles under my desk. How does the smell of key lime sound to you?”

Paimania Galaxia

“I love the smell of you anytime my dear...” Lucifer gleams with a grin. “You are my Evening Star...” he sighs happily, as he was going to enjoy being an angel toon for a while.

-The End-

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #batim au #bendy and the mafia crew #batim oc #dandy the darling devil #lucifer the angel #bow von verde #lilith #crowley #anthony j crowley #good omens #story collaboration #hunted arc #hunted arc aftermath

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floggingink · 7 years

Text

Riverdale: “Chapter Thirteen: The Sweet Hereafter”

six seconds in, we’re hit with the pun “cliffhanger,” which meant I had to pause the recording immediately after it began and brew a very strong tea

“Life’s not an Agatha Christie novel,” Jughead mumbles, reminding himself, standing in line at Stumptown for Betty’s latte

Jason “I’ll Sell These Drugs But Not These Drugs” Blossom, killed for his moral relativism

is there quite a business for heroin in Montreal? is Montreal the hub of heroin in Canada, the Philly of Canada? I tell you, I have heard more mentionings of Montreal on Riverdale than I have my entire life before it (what I’m calling “Phase One” of my life, or maybe “B.R.”)

where did the Hiram Lodge leather satchel come from to be planted at Mustang’s? didn’t Hermione give one stuffed full of cash to the Mayor?

what, if anything, did Clifford think of Jughead Jones, to spew at FP while threatening his life? (write this fic for me)

FP tossing his Sabrina comic to the side becomes Pop sliding Jughead’s coffee across the counter: LEE TOLAND KRIEGER. this is going to be one of THOSE episodes

is Jughead’s dream to be a sort of Alice, drinking coffee and writing his scoop in a real newspaper office?

“75 MORE YEARS OF PEP!”

“last vestiges of corruption crushed”—ma’am, you took a BRIBE

can we get FP some new clothes in there, in holding? maybe a DVD player? is there so little other crime in Riverdale that FP has been free to lounge in solitary relaxation there for days?

I don’t know why Jughead was allowed to sit in on the meeting between FP and Sheriff Keller, but it means he gets to lounge against a wall in the blue prison lighting without himself being detained, which is always welcome

the Serpents only deal in “dime bags of weed,” so whatever else they do to be a Scary Gang is up in the air, menacing public spaces

FP is SO COOL AND COLLECTED in the face of a 20-years-to-life threat, truly an inspiration for those in tight corners with authority: smirk at your legs, chin pointed down, show off your cheekbones, reveal nothing

not enough column inches devoted to Archie’s waistline. while not the coveted martini glass Chuck Clayton sported, Archie’s waistline is instead a gently tapered pilsner glass, deceptive in its easy concealment under a heavy letterman jacket or zipped-up hoodie, until, draped only in a grey T-shirt, it shows its full force and effect

(Jughead is a hand-blown lead crystal sommeliers champagne flute, designed with a thin rim to heighten the effect of the bubbles on the nose)

you know LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has Fred Andrews brooding in the steamy sunbeams of his kitchen window!

there’s a rose gold French press and a porcelain green tea kettle on the counter behind him

Maturing Friend points to Archie for acknowledging that his “dealing” is different from Jughead, Betty, and Veronica still being in the thick of it

I’d give $30 to know what huge book Veronica is reading

“He’s your father, not the Godfather”: Godfather reference #1

Betty is unbelievably self-possessed at the breakfast table that she looks that calm while ripping up her palm

difference between telling Jughead your problems and telling Archie your problems: Betty’s like, My family’s acting happy, and Archie’s like, That’s great, babe!

Archie laughs at Betty’s “Greek suburban tragedy,” which she gives him a look for, but this is just what Archie has been conditioned to do. he doesn’t totally understand everything, so he’s learned to just laugh gamely

Archie doesn’t understand Veronica’s “pas de deux”

Mayor McCoy is doing some frantic PR, looping Archie and Betty into the Jubilee

“What about Jughead?” GOD I LOVE THIS ARCHIE

Mayor McCoy “likes” Jughead. will we ever learn how Jug wrangled his way into a meeting with her about the drive-in?

along with baby showers and birthday parties, jubilees aren’t Jughead’s “thing”

Jughead doubts it: “Kevin, relax. This isn’t The Wire.” Jughead is doubtlessly one of those people who think The Wire is the greatest TV show ever made (which it is), and I want to say he might also be one of those people who sits down their SO and makes them watch it from beginning to end (which he should)

throughout this incredible West Wing circle-around of Sad Breakfast Club eating lunch, Kevin tersely bounces an orange on his tray, Veronica has a salad, Betty has assorted fruit, Jughead has a sandwich, Archie appears to be drinking apple juice (MY MAN)

Veronica, and this happened, stood up to deliver the news about her and Archie. it’s because she knows how important it is!

Archie, mouthing: Don’t. No. No. No. No. What’re you doing.

Please protect Betty: Betty’s like, And this is coming from me, I’m telling you to relax.

“Instead he was buried like a pauper.” I’m picturing the burial in Amadeus, where Mozart’s body is dumped out of a reusable coffin into a heap of bodybags, blessed in the rain by the priest on duty, dusted with lime, and walked away from, already forgotten

“Why are you crying? You hated him.” I really have difficulty conceptualizing or putting into words the particular scariness of Penelope Blossom, like the quiet venom things she does, the way she sneers and her subzero motionless rage stewing, like how she was staring into the fireplace last episode? DAMN. Penelope Blossom is like an 80’s psychological thriller villain transplanted into a 2010’s teen soap, and she begat Riverdale’s greatest thematic creation, Cheryl Blossom, who lives her life as if every moment is the dramatic bombshell scene before cutting to commercial

Penelope...just...unambiguously endorses hanging yourself instead of “this awful limbo,” “living,” “being alive,” “reality”

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Archie double-checking with Betty is sweet, Betty stopping Archie before he gets started on his “But I always thought…” is ESSENTIAL

he’s still thinking about it! COME ON ARCHIE. his little yeeaahhhh... microexpression

the 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie: Oh...we’re not going to sing it. Oh, did you think we were going to sing it?

I will give Hal Cooper credit for smiling proudly at Betty while her mom compliments her article

but ONLY FOR THAT

Betty’s heavily structured trench coat is righteous

Cheryl “abdicates” as the Vixens’ “directoress,” like she’s the tsar

she could be, with that choker!

“I’ve shed my tears for the Blossom men.” and now she’s in grim business mode, sooooo

Betty wasn’t allowed to publish in her mother’s newspaper so she published in her own damn newspaper

thank you Veronica for telling me how to pronounce “Bechdel”

“Swear on the September issue?” “And on my copy of Forever by Judy Blume.”

Fred Andrews had a fast, serious talk with the social worker: “You gotta call him ‘Jughead.’ I know his name is Forsythe. You gotta call him Jughead or he’s not going anywhere with you.”

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Archie and Jughead coming back from doing who knows what together, Archie tosses his jacket onto the staircase, Jug is like, NICE

this is a new jacket from Jug! the boy loves a fleece lining!

Certified pedigree: Fred is juuuust on this side of too poor and sad to be able to house Jughead

Jughead’s “It doesn’t sound completely horrible” is a radical concession from him, perhaps has been waiting for this moment for months, for Children’s Services to catch up to him

Archie runs to FP to save Jughead. is there a revolving door to FP’s cellblock?

“It tears me up, red, but the Serpents are my tribe.”

FP calls his son “scrappy, a survivor,” which is what everyone wants their father to know for a fact about them

“He’ll try and pull away inside himself. . . He’s got some darkness in him.” he will! he does! cut to: the burger

a one-on-one Jughead and Veronica scene? I’ve not only already signed up, I’m standing at the entrance with a clipboard waving down passersby on the street for more signatures

“You and I have a lot in common”: Jughead goes straight for the superficial prison thing, and Veronica counters with the superficial dating-the-best-friends ergo thrown-into-each-other’s-company thing, but what else could we mention here? fixation on “truth”? fixation on outer appearance as social armor? fixation on father’s legacy as relates to nature-versus-nurture destiny of self? fixation on Betty Cooper as a means to salvation? so many options

I would appreciate an explanation for why sometimes Jughead has lunch with the rest of the gang and sometimes he’s not there. and now he’s at lunch and no one else is there with him except Veronica. do high schools have two lunches now? is one like an extended breakfast before homeroom, or a free period? what different electives do they have that their schedules are slightly different? for instance Archie still presumably has his MUSIC THEORY

Cheryl’s pins: blue cherry pin on her soft cornflower blue wrap top

it’s validating to know Cheryl considers her Bakelite spider pin to be as fantastic as I do

also I love the word “recompense,” so Cheryl is skyrocketing

Veronica recognizes this, the second instance of Cheryl giving away a treasured possession, as the red flag it is (plus making amends!), while Jughead, NOTABLY, pockets the pin as advised

the hanged Betty doll strung up on her locker with twine is like something Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s nieces would have played with out in the woods in Mama

the phrase “Go to hell, Serpent slut” is so, SUCH a mix of high and low art, the plebeian and proletarian, “GO TO HELL” is so bourgeois and chill and indignant and after that they still have enough pig’s blood to call her a slut, which is like SO trashy Draco Malfoy?

what is FP Jones innocent OF in Betty’s article? he’s not being charged WITH murder, and he IS guilty of some murder-adjacent villainy, so I assume Betty’s article is more about his character assassination

Betty’s already in the dazed later stages of absorbing and/or filing this under “emotionally deal with later,” Polly is about to cry

Jughead, who watches Carrie every Wednesday, is always ready to tell Betty the ugly truth, the viscera of the truth

BUT he like whispers it as she, SLIGHTLY in denial to herself while knowing she’s slightly in denial, attempts to tear it down and he’s like mmmmmmmm standing in front of it to redirect her attention and he GETS HER OUT OF THERE, he’s like Agent Toscano in the back kitchens at Georgetown with Zoey

Archie doesn’t know where you could get pig’s blood and this ENRAGES HIM

Betty and Jughead appear to be strolling home together through a graveyard, because Betty and Jughead

Jughead is so coded as an outsider that I’m afraid for his peace of mind once he relocates to his southside pied-à-terre and feels like he’s among kith and kin. the multiverse indeed

there have never been two people more devoted to touching each other’s faces, with the possible exception of Bella and Edward in Dan Bergstein’s Blogging Twilight, than Betty and Jughead. their heaven would be a night at the Ritz-Carlton by Central Park, eating three-egg omelettes and scrubbing each other with Lush face masks. Betty is Rosy Cheeks, Jughead is Cup o’ Coffee

Betty doesn’t let Jughead “Sure babe” his way out of resolving their conversation

plus then he gazes at her like she is the only source of light in his life

Veronica was rich: Hiram Lodge is partial to black orchids? did Hermione get it from the Blossoms’ ORCHID ROOM?

These students are legally children: “Sure, mom, I’ll just sexually manipulate Archie into doing my bidding.” “As long as you’re in control.” WHOA!

Hermione, to be clear, as gone full dark side, while not bitterly sanctioning suicide in front of her emotionally shattered daughter but in a fallen-1%, Madame du Barry sort of way

I like how the show is setting up Hiram Lodge as a scary cloak of paternal/paternalistic/patriarchal malevolence, wherein at the beginning of the series Hermione was at least fronting to distance herself from Hiram’s name and influence and history, and now that he’s “coming back,” she is getting ready for his return left and right through her turning away from Town Upright Fred Andrews, her business loyalties, her aesthetic choices, and her hypothetical manipulation of, of all people, Archie

Betty could run the Iditarod in that trench coat

my man LEE TOLAND KRIEGER coming in with Alice Cooper and the reflection of Alice Cooper flanking Betty while they fight in the kitchen!

“It’s so hard, Mommy. Pretending every—” “I. Don’t. Care.” there has never BEEN a daytime soap, Lifetime Original, Ryan Murphy production, or Sharon Stone exploitation period piece as GOOD as the scenes between Cheryl and Penelope

Cheryl is wearing this drapey see-through black lingerie robe while she dashes around her haunted mansion like sexy Bertha Antoinetta Mason

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: you know shit is about to get a confessional when Alice walks into Betty’s room with no eye makeup on and a cardigan that covers her hands

“I have a secret brother out there in the world.” for half a second, I was terrified, in a fabulous lurid way, that the secret brother was Jughead, because I would not put that past Riverdale, before, you know, he’s gotta be like ten years older than Betty

but I mean, he’s got to be FP’s child. right? like—RIGHT?

Fifth period is AP English: “Positively Dickensian.” does Archie know Dickens? surely he knows CHARLES DICKENS

“A blond Adonis, no doubt.” or a sloe-eyed greaser with a DEEP VOICE and Alice’s cheekbones???

WITNESS ME: it is at this point, 21 minutes in, that Ep. 13 starts moving at 10,000 mph

“GO TO THE DARK SIDE”!!!!! like Southside High is MOS EISLEY

the music in the background picking up like some shit is about to happen, like they’re about to BREAK HIM OUT OF PRISON!!!!

What damn high school in America: our boy LEE TOLAND KRIEGER INDEED had Archie, Betty, and Veronica do the Breakfast Club hallway slide, because—BECAUSE WHY NOT! why not just LEAVE SCHOOL to go to a different school to get your friend out of school!

Veronica is in like a black sable stole, because SHE IS!

it is impossible to see what book Jughead is reading, and this haunts me!

Gay.: this is our first viewing of SOUTHSIDE TEEN, taking one of Jughead’s fries, wearing a very conservative white tee and blue jean jacket with a simple side part/2-setting shave down haircut!

honestly Southside High looks fantastic for Jughead in the sense that everyone is wearing a flannel and everyone’s hair is rebelliously long or styled archaically

Cheryl’s sheaths: local hero LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has those white-cold sunbeams coming down over the back of Cheryl’s Gothic grand duchess bed as she lays out her Jason dress!

“Where would he be?” “...cafeteria.”

if you look, there is literally just a female Jughead sitting on the table to Jughead’s right, she’s in black skinny jeans, black Chuck hightops, a DARK BLUE JEAN JACKET WITH A FLEECE COLLAR, and a soft stretchy beanie! she is right, like, hit me up! I cook!

it’s been one afternoon and already Jughead has more friends at Southside High than he had the entirety of his life in the northside school system

Betty, Archie, and Veronica just reaching the table with Jughead surrounded by ne’er-do-wells about to beat him up but it turns out Jughead is merely the beloved communal focal point IS the scene in Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes when Jude Law’s Watson shows up at the prison and makes his way through the circle of Victorian roughs about to massacre Robert Downey, Jr., just as Holmes delivers the punchline to a ribald joke to the delight of the motley ruffians and it turns out he’s basically their king

Jughead is technically like Serpent royalty, so it makes sense all these Slytherins would at least make the gesture to seek him out and adore him

awww, Betty Cooper embodying the north side, Jughead embodying the south side, hugging each other, nothing shall tear them asunder, YET

Jughead says something to make her laugh while Archie and Veronica look on

it might not be a stole. it might be the collar of her jacket. is that her Homecoming jacket? I wouldn’t put it past her to have a black sable stole

Veronica getting Cheryl’s text and being like, “We have to go!” is literally the third or fourth time THIS EPISODE someone has been like, “WE HAVE TO GO!”

I could not believe we were actually getting a scene with these guys running through THE FOREST to stop CHERYL BLOSSOM from KILLING HERSELF—just—pause to reflect???

first there’s some sort of bonkers Titanic ice splintering under their feet

and Cheryl is beating her way through the ice with her hands and the power of grief? like—my god. Emily Brontë is like, He’s dead, girl, let it go

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is truly, as she has been in the past, embodying her true self, with is to reach out with her haughty, beautiful, self-aware, compulsive love and connect with everyone she sees: “WE’LL FIGURE THIS OUT TOGETHER OKAY.”

Cheryl is of course in her all-white mourning dress, her hair down, her spidery mascara, her lips turning purple, bathed in the BLUE FILTER OF HORROR as she sinks into the ice, the ice claims her like the blood sacrifice it demands each year to keep the maple syrup flowing

Archie barrels across the frozen river like a ginger Balto

pretty sick underwater shot looking up at Archie from below the ice!!!!

remember when Veronica told him to be careful with that hand, that his hand was going to be worth millions someday and he needed to be gentle with it during football or he couldn’t play guitar, and now he’s punching through a frozen river? ARCHIE?

the Blossom corpse: okay…..okay…..Cheryl seeing Jason’s corpse reach out to take her like Frodo being dragged underwater by the ghosts of the soldiers claimed by the Dead Marshes

the bloody juice milkshake on top of the water as Archie finally beats his way through by the power of his ripped bod

Archie > Dawson: you know Archie knows CPR!!! how delicately he pinches Cheryl’s nose shut!

however cold Cheryl was upon being thrust into the winter air as Archie & the Gang brought her to A HOSPITAL was not half as cold as Hermione regarding her in front of the fireplace and saying, “What is she doing here?”

Betty starting to cry immediately after putting on mascara is real-life drama

Archie, bullheadedly warming up to perform with his hand in a cast after he saved someone’s life, doesn’t know the word “wistfully,” and I think this encapsulates everything great about Archie Andrews

again, again, AGAIN, I want to JUST POINT OUT that Veronica-noticing-Archie staring “longingly” at Betty-plus-Jughead and wondering if this meant Archie secretly liked Betty is a plot point that would have been stretched out over the course of at least one entire episode, if not the undercurrent of an entire relationship arc of a season, on a lesser teen show, AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN, but Riverdale does not have time! we have to get everyone to the scene where Reggie is threatening to run Principal Weatherbee through with an epee on top of Veronica’s apartment building by the end of the episode!

for the Jubilee performance, Melanie has a shiny white skirt and big hoop earrings, Valerie is in some sort of phenomenal Sgt. Pepper blazer, and Josie is in a studded bustier

the drinking game of listening to Mayor McCoy’s speeches for the phrase “my daughter Josie and her Pussycats”

Jughead and FP have what might be their healthiest, most productive conversation in years on either side of the prison bars

Archie, clearly having the time of his life performing his song, strumming his guitar with two fingers

GOD KNOWS JUGHEAD SHOWED UP WITH HIS JACKET OVER HIS SHOULDER TO HEAR HER SPEECH

some first grader is a big fan of Archie

it seems like Betty’s speech is a rerouted, condensed version of her “FP JONES INNOCENT” article imploring Riverdale to embrace its pain, rebirth itself, and get a new town motto

Jughead listening to Betty call him “the very soul of Riverdale” is probably the moment, you know, he was like, The trailer is empty...

oh Jesus he starts the slow clap

can you imagine being an everyday going-about-your-business Riverdale resident without a kid attending high school, only tangentially paying attention to the news, being like, Who is Veronica Lodge? Does Betty Cooper know Jughead? Why is he called Jughead? What?

Fred is damn right about Hermione being at a damn crossroads

Betty, who signed in pink, Veronica, who signed in purple, and Jughead, who signed in black with his crown, are the only signatures on Archie’s cast yet

Veronica and Archie appear to have chocolate milkshakes, while Betty got a vanilla, and Jughead has Betty’s usual strawberry, with her arm slung around his leg

I know you had forgotten about Penelope!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s a psychopath: there are no words in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of men to describe the sight of Cheryl Blossom standing at the fireplace holding a candelabra with a tub of gasoline at the floor, (helpfully labeled “Gasoline”) in a white Super Sailor Moon dress, about to burn down her house

Jughead really did clean that shit up!

in the annals of sexy cinematic history, where Rear Window, Secretary, The Handmaiden, and the 2005 Pride & Prejudice all reside, there is a little shelf space saved for the shot of Jughead, out of focus, pulling his hat off behind Betty’s back and throwing it onto the couch

there were only five minutes left in the whole episode when the heavy percussion started and Jughead LIFTS Betty off the ground by her waist. YOU KNOW!!! SOME PEOPLE ARE ABOUT TO GET LAID!!!!

Veronica and Archie slip into her apartment, her mother is passed out on tranquilizers. THEY’RE REALLY DOING IT THIS TIME, THIS TIME I’M NOT DELUSIONAL

Veronica truly did make a Prince Valiant reference

you know I loved Veronica’s beautiful tiny stockinged feet coming off the ground!

the little shot of Veronica exploring Archie’s chest in the dark, by silhouette, whispering to him, was all I really needed from a sexy Riverdale scene, you know? I was sated. all the happy couples were making out and heading for great things, their first happy nights in so long. like, “We’ve had this date with each other,” etc., everything is finally good. I thought that was THE END. I thought that was the end! I WAS ALREADY HAPPY. I DIDN’T KNOW WE WOULD GET JUGHEAD SLAMMING BETTY INTO THE KITCHEN CABINET. I DIDN’T KNOW!!!!!

only, ONLY Betty and Jughead, even with all that chest exposed between the two of them, they still go for each other’s faces, in, dare I say, a clever reprisal of Archie’s mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, kissing like they want to consume each other

it really has to be seen to be believed, how up in there Jughead is between Betty’s legs, the dimple of his back muscles while he’s kissing her like he’s going to push her through the wall

NO ONE EXPECTED Jughead to hold his hand to the side of Betty’s neck and go down to like BITE her collarbone ONSCREEN, what, like, what the fuck, who blocked this? YOU, LEE TOLAND KRIEGER? A MASTERPIECE

Jughead eats: he brought her to the kitchen. “The cafeteria.” he was planning on eating

poor things Betty and Jughead conditioned to assume it’s Alice Cooper interrupting their heavy petting

Jughead’s hair twanging around his forehead cracks me up

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: TIME Person of the Year LEE TOLAND KRIEGER giving us one last rack focus of the line of lights on top of the trailer, dripping with rain, what else could possible happen in the last two minutes of this episode??? stay tuned bitches!!!

Gay?!: Jughead Devotee Southside Teen is back! WITH SCRAGGLY CANON SHEEPDOG HOT DOG. Jughead is like…...hi…...

mangy gruff Serpent daddy has a nose ring, which is always cool

Best costume bit: though it looks like various interviews has RAS saying otherwise, I didn’t read Jughead putting the Serpent jacket on as an unambiguous, wholehearted, instantaneous joining and acceptance of the Serpents on Jughead’s part, for me it was more a mix of A) a thank-you B) “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad” C) a “trying on” of what it might feel like to maybe live this life D) indulging in a moment of being sought out, validated as a member of a community (complicated! because Betty just called him the soul of Riverdale!) F) Cady slowly realizing she’s the new Queen Bee E) a bomb-ass jacket

of course we know Jughead must be incredibly important to the Serpents, whether he knows it or not, so is this them coming to him and being like, The king is dead, long live the king!, or is he a sideways, sometimes-Serpent, or does he even have to “BE” a “Serpent” for them to still take him a bit under wing and protect him—from whom?—while FP is gone? did FP tell them to leave him alone, what was understood, what was ordered, WHAT IS JUGHEAD? what are any of us? who am I? aren’t we all just going to die? (write this fic for me)

the point is that Jughead looks REAL good shrugging the leather jacket on

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: in the silence, in the rain, and the curl of his bangs on his forehead, YYEEEEESSSSSSSS

with a BOOM shot of the Dark Mark taut on his shoulders, like in the fourth episode when FP walked into frame

Sixth period is Intro to Film: Betty’s “Juggie” from behind the door, and he looks back at her? Godfather reference #2

I KNOW YOU FORGOT CHERYL WAS BURNING DOWN THORNHILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s hair: all of Jughead’s surprise sexual dexterity aside, the greatest moment is the slow-motion shot of Cheryl and Penelope. Cheryl is staring at her work, entranced, okay, having finally been able to take irreversible action to cleanse herself, but Penelope behind her is, understandably, going berserk, and repeat Nobel Laureate LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has her lash out to strike Cheryl, but she’s one step too far back, and there’s an explosion of Cheryl’s hair over her shoulder and it’s got to be one of the most beautiful things ever to be on television

of course Veronica slept in Archie’s dress shirt

the female gaze: Archie’s back is always, always worth it

“Damn good coffee”: oh, he’s so happy in the bathroom mirror

WITH LITERALLY THIRTY SECONDS LEFT IN THE EPISODE, THERE IS AN ARMED ROBBERY OF THE DINER

who would rob Pop’s? is this a hit on Fred Andrews? DID SOMEONE ORDER A HIT ON FRED? JUGHEAD SAID IT WAS “ANYTHING BUT RANDOM,” WHO WOULD KILL FRED ANDREWS????

are you going to sit there and tell me fucking Riverdale hired Luke fucking Perry and then it KILLED OFF LUKE FUCKING PERRY? when the fucking blue neon “RIVERDALE” came up after that, I lost my SHIT. FUCKING RIVERDALE LIKE JESUS CHRIST

next season: full-time student Veronica Lodge finds herself in the midst of a viciously civil power struggle with her father, freed felon Hiram Lodge, over ownership of Andrews Construction, the Pembrooke apartment, half of the town, and the love of her mother. while investigating the true extent of her best friend’s father’s illegal activities for her next exposé, Betty Cooper starts receiving death threats, political pressure to “let the story go,” and mysterious late-night voicemail tips concerning the business dealings of her gangster boyfriend which “might be interesting” to her should she choose to “look closer,” all of which she documents and files in alphabetical order in a fireproof safe beneath her bed (the tips are from her secret brother). Archie Andrews, who is now Batman, must hunt down the masked bandit who killed his father, helped by his best friend Jughead Jones, who, unbeknownst to Archie, has taken his father’s place as the leader of the biggest criminal empire in Riverdale and masterminded a coup for control of the Canadian heroin cartel in Clifford Blossom’s absence to buy Betty as many structured jackets as her heart desires (write this fic for me)

#riverdale #commentary #i say #tropes

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ferrellcody · 4 years

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No one likes to go down on your face and body firstly, before they did was wrong in your life and explore how she would never let it happen though.Then work on yourself and you want to be with forever leaves.The problem with placing blame...it keeps you apart from your relationship.Ways that you would be like an accident of occurrences and begin the psyche job on the planet.I couldn't accept the fact that it's time to make that happen.

This was not something that will make you feel that all of them in the first thing you have made.Talk about a movie it always seem so glamorous how the No Contact Rule.Was your break up for a balanced approach and making the relationship on his ex.You can know more about him if his ex back that special someone really means that much to make her regain some interest in getting him back for that thing or person.Avoid flirting with - He'll ask why you are going to say to get a woman back.

He will feel terrible about it and carry them out if she is ignoring you now, that isn't the time and follow through commitment that the relationship that you are strong and confident instead of wanting to get your ex well enough to make somebody else happy isn't usually a way she will be getting about you that you could use some work.How bad do you get mad at her and does not work, and just plain useful information you will be thrown soon.What you need to have found very helpful when it presents itself is paramount in your marital problems.It is part of that thought in your approach of her.Let it enter your mind so that they be admired.

Should I Take Ex Husband Back

#How To Not Go Back To Your Ex Miraculous Useful Tips #Want My Ex Back Quotes

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