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nanoland · 3 years

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new chapter (lucifer fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 3

Mazikeen + Eve + Michael, gen fic (for now), warning for gun violence

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #eve #michael demiurgos #demons #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #michael #fanfic #my fic

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sondepoch · 4 years

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Part 2

Paramour (Diavolo x Reader)

You love Diavolo. And Diavolo loves you. But in the Devildom, relationships aren't as straightforward as that—and Diavolo being the future ruler of the Devildom certainly complicates things. So when you learn that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, a human, you're overjoyed. Yet, there are still issues. Big issues. Diavolo wants you to be his paramour—whatever that means. But you want to be his wife. And with each passing moment, it's beginning to feel like even love can't bridge the gap between your worlds.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ✔

MASTERLIST

There were only two weeks left in the RAD student exchange program when Diavolo asked you to be his paramour. Thirteen days, when Barbatos had helped you move your things into Purgatory Hall.

By the time there were ten days remaining, the demon brothers—with the exception of Lucifer, who was still hesitant to be openly by your side in front of Diavolo—had thrown you a huge party (in Purgatory Hall, much to Luke's horror) and by the seven-day mark, you had taken the last of your final exams.

But these past four days have been beyond slow going without Diavolo by your side to make the time pass by.

You frown, memories of the demon flitting through your mind.

You never even had the chance to speak to him about your decision.

The man had walked into your room, mouth open and about to start a conversation, when he saw how bare the walls and dresser were. It took him less than a second to realize that you'd already prepared to leave, that you were abandoning him and his palace and his paramour situation behind.

Diavolo left the room before you could even open your mouth.

You sigh, a noise soft enough to have been carried away by the gentle breeze flowing through the courtyard, but Simeon hears it nonetheless.

"What's wrong, little lamb?" He asks, putting down the feathered pen he's using to write his report. Barbatos informed you that you're excused of yours, but the other exchange students still have to complete this final assignment before you all return to your respective realms.

"Nothing, Simeon." You glance away, not wanting to distract the angel. "You should continue working on your report."

The angel chuckles and moves his papers aside. "I have three more days before I leave. I'm sure I'll be able to find time to complete this later, so tell me what's on your mind, hm?"

You glance hesitantly at the angel. He already knows the full story: you'd spent nearly an hour in his arms as he consoled you while you cried over the stupidity of a paramour and how unfair the whole situation was. Simeon had agreed with you wholeheartedly back then, and hadn't pressed you for more details. But it's obvious he's aware of the lingering doubts in the back of your mind. No question, he knows that your strained relationship—your lack of a relationship, rather—with Diavolo is the cause of your distress. But it can't hurt to tell him the deeper truth, right?

"It's just..." You let your voice trail off. "I don't see how I can ever be as happy as I was with Diavolo with anyone else. I...it...it scares me, to think of what kind of life I'll be leading when I return to the human realm."

"I see," Simeon murmurs, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"And it's not just that," You continue. "What do I do when I go back? I've missed out on an entire year of life with my friends, and I know that when I return, it'll be like nothing happened because of all the protective magic spells and stuff, but what do I do with these memories? Do I keep them? Do I forget them? Are my memories...are they meaningless now?"

"Hey." Simeon interrupts your rambling, a light frown present on his face for the first time. He places his hands on your shoulders in a delicate but firm grip and forces you to look at him. "Your memories of your time here are not meaningless. Never say that, little lamb. Never."

He pulls you in for a comforting hug, arms wrapping tight around you to protect you from your own thoughts. You relax in his arms. His embrace is almost as reassuring as a certain redhead demon lord, and it's easy to close your eyes and forget the difficulties that have been plaguing your mind.

"I'm sorry," You mumble. "I didn't mean it like that. None of you are meaningless to me, Simeon. I just..."

"You're worried." Simeon finishes your sentence. "You're worried about the future, and about how you're ever going to be this happy again."

You nod your head.

It hurts to hear it out loud, but Simeon has the truth of it.

Being in the Devildom has brought so much color into your life. Beyond constant near-death experiences with various demons trying to eat you and the boring studies you had to work on, meeting the angels and demons has shown you a new world altogether: one of magic, chaos, and thrill.

How will going back to the human world, to your humble little abode and your quiet little friends, ever compare to the experiences you've gone through here?

"My sweet little lamb," Simeon smiles. "Let me guarantee your happiness."

You raise an eyebrow at the angel. If those words came from any other man, you'd be running the other direction right now. But you trust Simeon, so you'll humor whatever idea is in his head.

But with his next words, it becomes apparent that the supposed 'little' idea in his head is bigger than you could have ever imagined; and just as effective, too.

"Let me take you to the Celestial Realm," He whispers into your ear. His eager emerald eyes never leave yours as he clasps your smaller hands in his own. "Let me take you to Michael. And when you return to the human realm, you'll return with an angel's blessing. Michael's Blessing. The blessing of eternal happiness."

***

Satan is growing concerned.

That's what the blonde claims, anyway.

"Goodness, Lucifer!" He exclaims at breakfast upon seeing Lucifer's furrowed brows. "I haven't seen you half this wrathful since that prank Mammon pulled four thousand years ago when he dyed your wings pink with the—"

"Quiet, Satan," Lucifer seethes. He's not in the mood for any of his brother's antics, not when this much rage is consuming him.

"I'm just saying," Satan murmurs, leaning back as he stabs into his breakfast with his fork. "The last time you were this angry, your wrath gave birth to me, and the last thing I want is another brother."

Lucifer scowls, pushing his chair back as he stands up and gets ready to leave for the day. His brothers love to taunt him, evidenced by Asmodeus joining in on the teasing with some remark about how scowls this intense would cause wrinkles, and the demon walked out of the breakfast hall to the sound of Mammon's laughter and Levi's LOLOLing.

On any other day, he'd reprimand his siblings and put them in their place.

But today, he's saving his wrath for a special someone.

He speed walks across the RAD campus, long legs taking him to his destination with more purpose and stride than he's ever carried before.

"Barbatos," He growls when the butler opens the door to Diavolo's castle.

"Lucifer," The demon greets plainly, a familiar, ever-knowing smile locked onto his face. The sight of such a smug look almost makes Lucifer lose control of himself before he stops, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place.

I'm here for Diavolo, he tells himself. Not to fight the godforsaken butler.

"How is Diavolo faring?" Lucifer asks, removing his coat. He begins walking to the prince's office, only to be stopped by Barbatos.

"Worse than usual, this morning. My lord has yet to leave his bedchambers, so unless you'd like to do his paperwork for him, I'd recommend you go there."

The future lord of the Devildom is moping around in bed at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday? Lucifer shakes his head. At this rate, he's never going to get better.

The demon knocks once at Diavolo's door, more to signify his presence than to actually ask for entry. He'd stopped doing that by the third day of MC's leave, when Diavolo had fallen too deep into despair to even respond to the ebony-haired demon's calls.

"Diavolo?" He murmurs, opening the door. He tries to keep the frustration out of his voice.

But the sight that greets him is strange, to say the least.

Pillows are thrown across the room, lamps shattered against the wall, the bedpost broken clean of the bed, the entire room privy to Diavolo's raw frustration at the situation before him. But all of that is akin to what the demon lord's room has been like on previous days.

This morning, though, in the center of it all stands a woman.

Lucifer stares at her for a moment, utterly confused as to who she is. He vaguely recognizes her, but from where?

"His wife," Barbatos clarifies from behind him. "Or future wife. She's been staying nearby ever since the proposal, and she stopped by to visit my lord last night. Upon learning of his...condition, she deduced that coming up here and consummating the marriage early might ease the prince of his current state."

"Well, it obviously didn't work." Lucifer crosses his arms in agitation, referring to the fact that she's fully clothed and clearly hasn't been touched since entering Diavolo's room. He gestures to the door in a motion for the she-demon to leave.

As she quietly walks out, though, Lucifer can't help but be relieved.

Lucifer knows how loyal his friend is, but the sight of a woman in his room still concerned him, upon first glance. If Diavolo had given her an heir, his whole situation with MC would truly be unsalvageable, the girl too human to think of his acts as anything other than infidelity.

The moment the door shuts, the tension in the room dissipates.

"Diavolo," Lucifer mumbles as he makes his way through the room, crossing his arms when he sees the unmoving stare of what had once been his proud friend.

"What." The sound comes out hoarse, more a word blurted than a real response, and Lucifer bends down to the eye level of his friend, who has still yet to even get out of bed.

Diavolo looks pitiful. Truly. Worse than each of the days before, but carrying the weight of them all the same. The demon's red locks seem darker, not as vibrant nor as soft as they normally look, instead having taken on the same cold, dead look as Diavolo's eyes.

And as Lucifer stares into the empty eyes of the man who was now deprived of his lover, words fail him.

He doesn't know what to say, where to begin, how to comfort this miserable demon.

The only person in all the realms who can do that is you, and the only way you would be returning is if Diavolo literally sacrifices millennia of Devildom tradition to wed you and make you his paramour in one—you, a woman who can't even yield him a biological heir.

Lucifer sighs, running a hand through his friend's hair.

"Go back to sleep," He advises, forgetting the reason why he had come here in the first place.

Slumber is the only peace he can see for his beloved friend.

***

Luke would be furious.

And tiny as the little angel is, you really don't want to ruin the remaining three days of your stay in the Devildom by yapping on about you being a bad influence on Simeon, which is why the two of you have to be overly secretive about sneaking out of Purgatory Hall.

"I think I'll retire early tonight," You say, standing up in the common room, reciting the line according to the plan you and Simeon had gone over in the evening. Perhaps you two were overthinking things, though, because neither Solomon nor Luke really reacts—both boys busying themselves with the completion of their own student exchange reports.

You cast the dark-skinned angel a glance as you walk out and make your way to your bedroom. A small part of you feels nervous. You've barely learned about the Celestial Realm, except for in your Angel Studies class. What if I embarrass myself in front of Michael? You wonder, beginning to pace. What if I embarrass Simeon?

"Little lamb?" Simeon calls, opening your door. He flashes you a warm smile when he sees you. "Wonderful, you're here. Are you ready to go?"

You give him a hesitant nod, and it takes less than a minute for him to open the window and the two of you to climb out.

"I love standing on the roof like this," Simeon informs you with a smile. He opens his arms up and spreads them, as if hugging the sky itself. "When I do this, I can feel every little breeze dancing through the night. Try it, little lamb, and close your eyes."

Wordlessly, you obey and shut your eyes, bringing your arms out. At first, it doesn't feel like much. In fact, all you can register is the light burn in your arms as you hold them for longer than you're used to—but then, you feel it.

It's quiet.

Subtle.

But it's there.

Your lips part as your bare arms begin to feel the breeze. The air moves gently, quietly, almost not at all. But the movement is there, and it fills your body up until it feels like you're flying higher and higher.

You let out a light laugh, about to open your eyes when Simeon's voice carries into your ears.

"Shh, little lamb," He murmurs. "Don't open your eyes."

And you're not sure if it's in that precise moment or a little later when you can feel the weightlessness of your own body, but you eventually realize that you're flying, soaring up, up, and up.

It's so much different from what you've experienced with demons.

No, in Diavolo's arms, flying was about the thrill of the ride: the wind fighting against your face as you cut through air where you didn't belong, every fiber of your being laughing and crying with joy as Diavolo flew you round and round.

But with Simeon, it's different.

It shouldn't even count as flying.

It's like gravity is pushing you away, urging you further and further into the sky like a balloon, except that you're not going to pop, and you're you.

And eventually, after the sensation becomes too much for you to bear in the darkness, you open your eyes.

You gasp.

"Tsk tsk." Simeon frowns, but his eyes are smiling. "What did I say about keeping your eyes closed?"

You don't bother humoring his question with a response, eyes glued to the sight beneath you. It's like another sky altogether, every single light in the Devildom a star on a black ground darker than night itself, truly a sight to behold. And when you finally pull your gaze high enough to look at Simeon, you realize that he is the real sight to behold.

"Y-your wings!" You exclaim, jaw slackened in pure awe of how divine the man looks. In his true form, Simeon looks even more stunning, his body radiating a soft glow as his snowy white wings spread out—two massive fliers majestic as they are untainted.

"Why would you ever ask me to close my eyes?" You ask, not understanding why the angel wouldn't want you to see such beautiful sights. Both the angel in front and the ground beneath you are more beautiful than anything you've laid your eyes upon in your entire life.

"I wanted you to see the Devildom lit up like this on the way down," Simeon chuckles. "Though I suppose it's only fair that you get to see it now."

You smile at the boy, before the new realization hits you—that you're flying on your own. Initially, you'd assumed that Simeon was the one pulling you up, lifting you into the sky by some invisible thread of divinity. But he's nearly three feet away from you as he continues to rise up, barely flapping his wings, so... "How am I flying?"

"The Blessing of an Angel," Simeon says with a grin. "You can collect blessings, little lamb. Each angel's blessing will manifest in a different form. My blessing is to bring people closer to their nature as an angel, and quite literally enables you to travel to the Celestial Realm. With wings."

With a single flap of his wings, Simeon brings his body behind yours, and you feel a hand begin to trace the outline of your back. Or at least, what feels like your back. You shudder as Simeon's fingers graze over a tender softness behind your body but on it all the same, and you just know that they're your wings. A single glance backward is enough to confirm it, the delicate whites nowhere near as majestic as Simeon's own figure but still stunning in their own right.

"Thank you," You murmur, following Simeon's lead as he instructs you on the ways of flight, teaching you how to use the new body parts. And then, before you know it, the two of you aren't just levitating upward but are truly flying, soaring through the skies straight into the heart of the Celestial Realm: an angel and a human, united in your journey above.

Not an hour later, you would repeat your gratitude to the archangel Michael as he offers you holy water to drink and rests his hand on your forehead, solemnly hearing out your request for his divine blessing.

And as you later crawl into bed, it strikes you just how much Simeon has managed to change in the short span of a few hours: you'd crawled out of your window as a mere heartbroken human. But returning, you carry Simeon's Blessing and Michael's Blessing: the blessing of holy flight and the blessing of eternal happiness.

And though nothing has truly happened with Diavolo to warrant such confident presumptions, you can't help but notice a quiet truth, before you finally give in to the temptations of Hypnos.

Indeed, your heart feels lighter.

***

Lucifer had saved you for last.

Simeon and Luke hadn't really needed much 'escorting,' given that all they had to do was spread their wings and fly to return to the Celestial Realm.

They'd been the first to depart.

Solomon had been the next one to go, bidding Asmodeus farewell in a suspicious promise to 'see each other soon' that concerned Lucifer, but he'd let it slide in lieu of getting rid of the shady sorcerer.

But that leaves you: the final exchange student.

And the time has finally come for you to go home.

He looks down at you, your face hesitant as your eyes widen in—what is the look on your face? Sadness? Fear? Anger? A mix of all things above?

"MC," He begins, the words feeling stiff as they come off his tongue. "I know that toward the end, things took a turn for the worse...but I truly did value your friendship in this year."

"And I, Lucifer." The demon relaxes when he sees you open your arms with a sheepish grin, eyes almost as shy and hesitant as the day he'd first met you. Lucifer doesn't waste a second in embracing you, pouring out of his arms all the feelings his pride would not permit him to vocalize.

I'm sorry, he tries to tell you. I'm sorry that things ended this way between you and Diavolo, especially when I know how happy you two were together. I'm sorry that I've had to take his side in this, and I'm sorry you were ever hurt.

And by the way you hug him back, squeezing his abdomen, it feels like you're telling him: I know.

"Is Diavolo not coming?" He hears you ask, tone wistful as you unbury your head from his chest.

Lucifer shakes his head softly, remembering how his friend had been even more unresponsive than usual this morning when asked if he would come to see you off.

"Mammon says he'll come visit," Lucifer remarks gently, trying to distract you. "Asmodeus and Beel, too. All of us will make time to visit you, in the end. You've been wonderful to have...we all feel that way."

Lucifer stresses that one word, trying to emphasize that he was speaking for the collective. For Diavolo. Even if the demon lord wouldn't be here to bid you farewell, Lucifer wants you to know that you've been precious to each and every one of them.

"Thank you, Luci." He hears you giggle, and for once, he doesn't even chastise you for using the nickname. "But it's time for me to go, isn't it?"

The demon sighs.

"It is."

"I'll miss you. All of you," You say, also emphasizing the word. The sentence means more than it seems. It's a quiet plea for Lucifer to tell Diavolo that, at the very least, your heart hasn't moved on.

"I'll be sure to let everyone know," The demon says, giving you just as cryptic a smile before wrapping you in a hug. He makes sure your eyes are closed as he turns into his demon form, summoning his powers to send you back.

At the back of his mind, he suspects that it won't be the last time he sees you. But no matter what instincts lie pooled in his gut, he can't shake the devastating sense of emptiness once you've vanished from his arms and vanished from the Devildom, returned to the human world.

It's where you belong, he tries to reason with himself. A human, among humans.

But deep inside, he knows the truth. And as much as he tries to deny it, his subconscious knows.

You belong with Diavolo.

***

The mark of the paramour is gone.

You remember, as Michael the Archangel had given you his blessing, that there'd been a searing pain in your stomach. Excruciating. Truly unlike anything you'd ever experienced before, though it was short enough.

Somehow, you've managed to pass weeks by without registering the lack of two black characters tainting your (s/c) abdomen, but as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you notice its absence.

Is this the 'eternal happiness' that Michael gave me? You scowl. In truth, you've yet to feel the effects of any revolutionary happiness. If anything, things have been worse than usual, these past few weeks.

"Damn it," You mutter, turning the lamp off. You don't want to see yourself in the mirror for a second longer.

You'd forced yourself out of bed to see the mark—to see the reminder that you once belonged to Diavolo, and he to you. You wanted to remember your time in the Devildom. You wanted proof that it was all real.

It doesn't matter that the characters on your stomach had proclaimed you a false lover, whatever that means. It was a connection to Diavolo. A contract, he had called it.

But even that little salvation has been stripped from you.

You choke back a sob, staring at your shriveled form. How long has it been since you left the Devildom?

Three weeks, says the calendar.

But without Simeon to cheer you up or the demon brothers to keep your mind occupied, it's felt like eons. Even your human friends have stopped visiting you, utterly unaware of the truth.

When you were surrounded by light and love and happiness, it was easy to tell yourself than you were healing from everything with Diavolo. But, looking back, you realize that you'd never been healing at all. No, even on the night you flew up to heaven with Simeon, you'd clung to the hope in your heart that Michael's Blessing of eternal happiness would somehow thrust you back into the arms of Diavolo.

But now I have no one to distract me, you think, staring at your hollowed cheeks. You haven't been eating as much, and it's showing. And I can't keep lying to myself that I'll ever end up with Diavolo.

You stare at your reflection, body seeming even more ghostly in the pale illumination of the moonlight as it streams in through your window.

You look dead.

And maybe, in some way, you are.

Can you ever love another as you loved Diavolo? It's impossible, you think, memories of your time with him beginning to stream through your mind.

Diavolo is a man unlike any other. Truly one of a kind, you think, remembering the very first time you'd expressed feelings for each other.

It was a Saturday when you first kissed him.

In fact, it had been Saturday the second time you kissed him as well, and probably the third and the fourth and the fifth times, until weeks later when two of you finally went public about your relationship.

But, in the beginning, Diavolo only saw you on Saturdays.

The man was committed to his plan of uniting the three realms, and he made every effort to make his precious exchange students feel welcome in the RAD. As far as you knew, he scheduled Solomon on Mondays, Simeon on Tuesdays, and Luke on Thursdays with the exceptional Friday—but you were the only one he saw over the weekend.

"Thank you for the tea, my lord." You smiled pleasantly at the man in front of you, wondering how someone so refined and gentle could possibly be a demon.

"Ah, how often must I say it? Drop the formalities, MC. Call me Diavolo!" He exclaimed with his usual ear-to-ear grin. It was a smile that always sent butterflies to your stomach, and you never failed to appreciate the little crinkle in his eye as he smiled at you from across the table.

"Of course, D-Diavolo." The name felt familiar on your tongue—you'd referred to him as such countless times in the presence of the demon brothers—but calling the future demon lord of the Devildom by his first name felt strangely personal as the two of you sat in his private garden, surrounded by flowers and sunshine, not even Barbatos present to intrude on your weekly meetings.

Well, they were called meetings. Diavolo treated them more as an opportunity for two old friends to catch up.

"So, how is school work going?" He asked, feigning interest in your performance at the academy. You knew it was just a ruse, though. Soon enough he would begin humoring his actual interests, asking questions about how you were liking your time in the House of Lamentation, what the family dynamic was like and, of course, there was always the one question he never failed to ask: whether any of you had managed to get a picture of Lucifer's sleeping face yet (and if so, to please forward the image to him).

The two of you eventually got caught up in the questions game, and soon enough, you had taken up his invitation to ask him things as well. It almost felt like the two of you were playing 20 Questions, and you told Diavolo as much.

"20 Questions? A human game? You must tell me how to play, MC." Diavolo's grin was expectant, and you quickly filled him in on the rules. Of course, as soon as he learned them, he decided that he wanted to play with you.

"You have to be truthful in this game?" Diavolo confirmed, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "And you cannot refuse a question, no matter what?"

"Nope!" You exclaimed cheerily in response. By then, the anxiety you felt at being in front of not only the strongest man in the Devildom but clearly the hottest one had faded, and you were almost teasing in your responses. "Of course, you can always back out if you're afraid of playing, Diavolo."

You batted your eyes innocently at the demon lord, trying to corner him into playing. Your plan worked like a charm.

"As if!" Diavolo exclaimed dramatically, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. He smiled confidently as he began the game. "I'll start. MC, how many objects did you help Mammon steal from my castle at the last feast?"

You felt your cheeks flush, not realizing that Diavolo had known about your assistance in Mammon's most recent attempts at thievery. The almost arrogant smirk on the man's face brought a response out of your mouth swiftly as you tried to put him back into his place.

"Three, but Lucifer made him put everything back. My turn: how did you know I helped Mammon steal from your castle?"

"Why, it was the first time he'd been successful in stealing anything from here. And there was only one thing that had changed," Diavolo winked. "You. And now, I'll go. What does the student body think of me, and the student council?"

The questions continued on like that, flirtatious undertones appearing every now and then, until the afternoon sun had gracefully rolled over Diavolo's castle into a sunset in the far west.

At the back of your mind, and probably his, too, you knew that you had long passed the concluding mark of twenty in this questions game, but you were too eager to value this rare, extra time with Diavolo to mention such a thing.

And it was then, right when the sun had dipped low enough to kiss the horizon and seemingly light up the ground and every petal in the garden, that Diavolo asked the question that would completely change the remainder of your stay in the Devildom.

"MC, if I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?"

For the first time in perhaps hours, you were silent. Your brain went blank at the prospect of laying your lips on the man you'd fantasized about, and you felt almost dumb as you stared at Diavolo.

After your flustered silence stretched into an awkward one, Diavolo apologized.

"I'm sorry, MC." He stood up, not meeting your eyes. "That was inappropriate of me. Very well, I'll see you next week for our—"

"Wait!" The prospect of losing your chance to kiss this stunning man spurred you into action. "I...I would! Kiss you, I mean. I would kiss you, if you asked."

Your cheeks were aflame, hotter than the setting sun itself as it outlined your body in a perfect silhouette that emphasized all your curves. You felt awkward as you stood in front of Diavolo, barely noticing the smirk spread across his face as he retook his seat, eyes fixated straight on you as you stood in front of him.

"I believe it's your turn to ask a question, then."

"Would..." You swallowed. "Would you do the same for me?"

The words felt stupid as they left your mouth. Stupid and childish and ridiculous. You should have said something better. Something flirtatious. Maybe something sexy? You cursed, hating how flustered the demon was making you feel, but his eventual answer reassured you.

"Yes," He hummed. "I absolutely would kiss you if you asked me to."

Your eyes widened at the answer, and you met his eyes for the first time since he asked you his embarrassing question.

"Do you like me?"

The sentence came out surprisingly clear, words of genuine curiosity and surprise as you asked your question. Diavolo, of course, was still a tease.

"Not your turn, darling," He said, using the playful nickname that would eventually become his most favorite term of endearment for you. "But I suppose I'd like to ask that. Do you like me, MC?"

Oh. Great.

If your cheeks were on fire before, now they were the molten lava-ridden depths of hell itself, burning hotter than anything you'd ever felt before. Diavolo smiled smugly as he placed a single finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. Only then did you realize just how much larger he was than you—truly a demon, taller than any human had a right to be and more muscular all the same.

His figure enveloped yours as he pulled you closer to him, bringing your face just inches away from his own.

"Because I like you, MC."

And with those words, the last of your restraint vanished, and you leaned forward to capture his lips with your own.

The man responded in full, using his strong arms to ease you into his lap, settling his hands on your waist as he pressed your body into his while the two of you made out. It was a hot collide of tongue and lip and passion as the two of you released all the tension that had built up through the intermittent teasing remarks of your questions game. By the time you were both moderately settled down, the sun had set, revealing the stars above you two.

"A-ah," Diavolo stuttered, suddenly leaning back. "I'm sorry, MC. I don't know what came over me."

You didn't leave your position on his lap, though. Whatever hesitance that had been previously holding you back vanished once you knew Diavolo felt the same way about you.

"Don't be," You laughed, laying a kiss against his oh-so-defined jaw.

"You're bold," He chuckled, bringing up a hand to play with your hair.

"And you're bolder," You swiftly responded, still not having forgotten that Diavolo was the one who had initiated this all in the first place. You stopped at the corner of the demon's jaw, nibbling at the skin.

"A human and a demon have no place together," Diavolo murmured, chuckling as you ignored his words. "Much less, a human and the ruler of the Devildom."

But the moment he had finished his sentence, you'd silenced him with a trail of kisses that ended on his lips, whatever weak protest he had dying then and there as the two of you continued to indulge in each other.

Looking back, you should have taken his words as a sign.

A warning.

You stare at yourself, wondering numbly what Diavolo would think if he could see you now.

I need to move on, you tell yourself. Come on.

For the first time since your return, you force your hands to tend to yourself. Your needs. You take a shower, brush your teeth, force a meal into your queasy stomach, and even dress yourself up in one of your favorite outfits.

Yep, you approach this situation Asmodeus-style: by forcing love onto yourself.

And honestly, by the time you're all dolled up, you feel a little bit better. The ache in your heart hasn't faded, but at least you're no longer worn down by oily hair or ugly sweatpants that are two sizes too big for you.

You decide to go for a walk. Get some fresh air. Get ready to return to your life as a normal human, with the moon as your witness.

And when you step out into the night, you really do feel the stinging bite of the cold as it coils around you in the wind, completely different from the last time you were out bare in the night with Simeon.

But you force yourself to take one step forward, and then another, until you're walking. You need this. As you stroll down the streets, gazing mindlessly at the flickering street lamps above you, you remember a little nursery rhyme your mother had taught you: A clear mind and a clear heart, you'll soon be able to make a fresh start.

Will this walk give you the clear mind you seek? A small smile flits onto your face at the thought, and you close your eyes in a quiet attempt to meditate some of the fears in your mind away.

And only then, when you're trying to forget all the events of the Devildom and get back in touch with your human roots, do you remember another thing your mother had taught you: Never walk the streets alone at night.

"Hey there, cutie. Whatcha doin' out so late at night?"

You stiffen, realizing that you've grown far too used to being under the demon brothers' protection at the Devildom. Back there, someone had always been watching over you, from close or from afar.

But you're on your own here.

And it seems that you'd forgotten that.

"I'm going home," You respond stiffly, not even turning around as you continue walking forward. You increase your pace.

"You don't wanna stay and chat with me?" The voice asks, creepy as it is intimidating.

"Leave me alone."

Perhaps you should have gone with a more polite way to decline the presence of whatever man is behind you, because the moment the hostile words leave your mouth, you find that he's moved faster than you can process, practically shoving your face into a wall as he grips your two hands behind your back.

"You're feisty, aren'tcha?" The voice laughs, and you feel a hardness press against your back. No! You want to shout, knowing all-too-well what this man is about to do. You can smell the liquor on his breath, disgusting and heavy. You begin squirming and resisting even more, opening your mouth to scream only to be met with the feeling of metal on your stomach. "Scream an' I'll cut your li'l belly open."

Diavolo! You shout in your head, wanting him, needing him to come to your protection. You feel tears begin to run down your cheek as the man grips your thighs, hands slowly sliding closer and closer to where you'd only permitted Diavolo to go, when his weight is ripped off your body altogether.

You hear the sound of screaming, punching, kicking, and you can't bring yourself to turn around. "D-Dia—"

"Shh," Your savior cooes, at your side in an instant. And you know it's awful, but when you recognize the sound of Lucifer's voice instead of your lover's, that only makes you cry harder as you sob into the demon's chest, choking out "thank you for saving me" over and over again.

Lucifer consoles you awkwardly, petting your hair until your tears have ceased.

"MC, I need you to come with me."

You nod your head, standing up and expecting Lucifer to lead you back to your apartment. But just as when he sent you off to the human realm, he simply wraps his arms around you, and you feel the familiar wave of magic wash over your senses as you cross back into what can only be the Devildom.

"W-why did you bring me back?" You ask, when you realize where you are. You stand up, wanting to run out of the room, out of these bedchambers where you've spent so many nights and mornings with your lover.

Suddenly, all memories of what had just happened with the man in the alley dissipate, and the little progress you've made in trying to move on from Diavolo completely fades.

"Fix him," Lucifer says, voice flat. He nudges you forward, and you don't need to turn around to know that he's already used his magic to leave the room.

Carefully, you approach the pile of blankets that you're so used to being buried under, only to find your half of the bed empty.

And the other half filled.

Your eyes widen as your gaze takes in the sight of Diavolo.

He's sleeping, thank goodness. You can't imagine that he would ever want you to see him in such an utterly disheveled state: his hair is unkempt, knotted and tangled when you bring a shaky hand to run through the neglected locks. Dark circles have appeared under his eyes, and it's easy to understand why—even Diavolo's current state of sleep looks restless and miserable. A thin sheen of sweat lies over his forehead and his chest, making you wonder whether the man has been even remotely aware of his health, and perhaps worst of all, the expression on his face as he sleeps is utterly distressed.

Remembering how you'd looked when you stood in front of your mirror not one hour ago in the human realm, you feel tears pool in the corners of your eyes.

He looks just as awful as you did.

Your heart breaks, shattering when you realize that these past few weeks have taken their toll on him as much as they have on you. It takes all your strength to choke back a sob as you stare at what was once a proud and happy prince, now reduced to what can only be considered the very personification of misery.

You stare at Diavolo, Lucifer's words flashing through your mind.

Fix him, he had said.

But is such a thing even possible anymore? Your eyes glance over your lover—or should you call him ex-lover?—and out of respect to the memory of the man you loved, you look away.

The Diavolo on this bed is nothing of the demon you remember. He's in pain, in misery.

He's shattered to the core, more broken than even you.

MASTERLIST

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ✔

Word count: 6.9k

Notes: Uh so there's definitely going to be a part 3 to this xD this part ended up being longer than planned sooo yeah >.> honestly, this whole part 2 was mostly setting up for the big conclusion in part 3 which is why there wasnt as much 1-on-1 action between MC and Diavolo (i really tried with that flashback T^T) but fear not :D All our thirst for daddy dia will be quenched in part 3!

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/03/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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saviorinsilk · 4 years

Text

Crimson Death

Ship: Cordelia x Fem!Reader

Words: 639

Warnings: Death, blood and general depressing content.

A/N: (I'm sorry in advance. Someone had to write it and who better than a depressed stoner with emotional break downs nightly due to medical induced menopause 🙃 You're welcome. ✌🏻) - This was from when I orignally posted the story on my old tumblr. I will say this story is very sad. It discusses extreme loss and may be too much for some people but I promise you that it will be worth the read. Out of all my stories I am the most proud of this one. I think the langauge is beautiful and I hope to one day get this good at writing again.

(The smirk at the end is so beautiful to me. She robbed him of his ultimate goal and it is the most badass thing I have ever heard of. Cordelia Goode is a legend.)

Some say that we truly don't know what we have until it's gone. I had always disagreed with that. I thought it was something that guilt-ridden souls came up with. That was until I kneeled on the cold concrete floor of the final resting place of Cordelia Goode.

I had once thought I knew what the colour red looked like until I saw the warm life essence run Crimson against her pale flesh. Tears ran down my face like a damn being broken, whales and screams sounding for my already raw throat, as I called out to the beyond. I begged and pleaded for my gods and goddesses, the same ones that Cordelia taught me to work with, to bring her back to me. Even if it was just for one moment. I clung to her body, holding her close to me, trying to hold on to the warmth her body still had, knowing m soon it would go cold and stiff.

I squeezed her hand, rocking us back-and-forth, creating a ring of blood that surrounded both of us. I was no longer worried about the threat that stood a floor above me, the same predator that had clasped Cordelia's beautiful soul between its gnarled claws and stole her from me.

I could hear Michael approaching now, taking the stairs leisurely, and why would he rush? After all, I was the last witch alive.

"Please, please my sweet Delia don't leave me. I don't want to die alone." I cried into her ear like she had whispered in mine every night before. But except now, instead of hearing my wife's whispered praises and words of love, it was only the gushing sound of her blood leaving her chest and the sickening clicks of Michael's boots that fill the air now.

"There's no sense in crying now little lamb. You can't escape your destiny." Michael's voice was sweet, like delicious poison. Like he was mocking me, his stalking figure filled with pride as he watched me cling onto his enemy's body with all the life I had left in me. I didn't bring my face away from Cordelia's matted and sticky hair, I just slouched over, holding onto her tightly, trying to soak in every last living moment.

"My father is going to love a sweet little thing like you." Michael's words went in one ear and out the other, too distracted by my lover's corpse to register his wicked words.

I felt like a trapped animal, cowardly hiding in a corner, waiting for death. Because after all, there was absolutely no way out of this one. Without Cordelia, I didn't have any fight left in me.

Sometimes, when death is certain, there is a type of serenity that fills the soul. One in which no man or woman will ever know until their time comes.

I focused on how Cordelia felt, remember how she smelt, the way her fingers used to graze over the sensitive patch of skin on my lower back when she would calm me down from a nightmare. I wished she could do that now.

As scared as I was, I was determined to stand my place, making my passed sisters proud.

I knew what awaited me on the other side. No angels and happy endings for witches, just fire and brimstone. Our punishment for being superior.

I inhaled one final time, telling myself;

You will die with pride, wrapped in the love and warmth of your sisters.

And so it was, in the final moments before the elegant, blood-covered beast that lurked behind me swiftly snapped my neck with a beautiful and graceful movement; I heard my wife's voice say as if she were there, comforting me one final time; whispering in my ear.

"Close your eyes Sweetheart. I'll be there when you wake up."

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#sad #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #cordelia goode #cordelia goode fanfiction #cordeliagoode x reader #michael langdon #death scene

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spaceskam · 4 years

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here you go @bisexualalienblast 😘

"If you leave me alone, I will never forgive you."

"I'll be right back!"

Alex glared at Liz as she disappeared into the sea of frat boys with not enough clothing and too much alcohol, each one of them dripping in sweat and trying to attach to the side of any breathing woman they spotted. He didn't want to be here. In fact, he explicitly said at orientation that he would never be caught dead at a frat party. Then Liz met a boy and now he was here in hopes this boy would notice her.

And now he had and Alex was left alone.

With a huff, he pulled his headphones over his ears and started to scroll for something that could efficiently block out the noise of utter chaos. He'd only been there an hour and he'd already seen a guy fall off a table, heard at least one girl crying, and seen more sloppy make-out session than his eyes cared for. Why the hell did people willingly sign up for this?

Alex was roughly a minute into a Paramore album when a hand clapped onto his shoulder. He moved away instinctually, looking at the owner of the hand like they'd lost their fucking mind touching a stranger. His irritation didn't fade when he came face to face with a smiley, shirtless guy with a beer bottle taped to his hand and unruly curls.

"Sup, bro?" he said.

"I'm not your bro," Alex scoffed, "Weren't you ever taught not to touch strangers?"

"I tried just talking, bro, but you couldn't hear me!" he countered, voice light and happy as if Alex's genuine annoyance was going straight over his head.

"Wearing headphones means don't talk to me, bro," Alex pointed out. The guy scrunched up his nose and laughed and, fuck, it was cute. Why did he have to be cute? Alex refused to find someone with a beer bottle taped to his hand cute.

"But I need a partner for beer pong!" he argued, "Come play!"

"I'm not playing beer pong," Alex told him, shaking his head, "Go find one of your friends."

"But I asked for you, bro!" he insisted.

Alex looked at him, hoping to channel a truly dead-eyed look so he'd see how uninterested he was. But why would that work?

"Bro, listen," he said, putting his not-beer-bottled hand on his shoulder, "You're my last hope at being the beer pong champion of all time in this house. I need a hot partner to boost moral. Please? I'll be your best friend."

Alex continued to glare, but clearly that wasn't an option. He grabbed his arm and started tugging him towards the kitchen. At this point, he figured he might as well since this guy seemed way too set at getting him to play. Maybe it would pass the time.

"Ay, Guerin!" a few too many guys in questionable states of undress cheered as they reached the table. Alex felt like he was about to have a moron induced aneurysm.

"No fair!" the guy on the other side of the table claimed. A pretty blonde stood at his side which Alex assumed was his beer pong partner. At least she looked like she was enjoying it. "You didn't say we could chose guys!"

"Not my fault your sense of hotness sucks," Guerin, apparently, shot back with laughter, "Now, I know I'm the hottest here, but I can't be two people and Alex is a fuckin' meal, so."

Before Alex even had time to unpack that this chaos-personified man knew his name, he was being handed a ping pong ball and all sorts of cheering began.

If someone would've told Alex hours prior that he'd be actually participating in a drinking game at a frat party, he would've laughed. Then suddenly, he was on his second round (they won the first), slightly tipsy, and actually enjoying himself. Alex, enjoying himself at a party. Who knew?

"Fuck!" Guerin yelled, still laughing as the other team sunk a ball into a cup. He picked it up and held it to Alex. "Drink up, bro!"

"I hate you," Alex told him, genuinely laughing as he tossed it back and put it aside. When he shot the next ball, it landed in one of their cups which left them with two and Alex and Guerin with six.

"Fuck yeah!" Guerin yelled, raising both his arms and not even caring when he spilled beer on himself. Alex laughed and shook his head, painfully fond of his beer bong partner after way too little time. He blamed it on the beer.

The other team sunk their next shot and Alex picked up the cup, mindlessly feeding it to Guerin who looked at him like he was a literal gift. He coped with that by laughing so hard he could barely breathe and had to take a second while Guerin shot anything, sinking it despite the giggles and alcohol shaking his system.

"How the fuck?!"

"Sorry, man," Guerin laughed, "Gotta impress the man, can't let you win."

And he didn't let him win. In fact, they won three rounds before they were ceremoniously announced beer pong champions. He wouldn't ever tell anyone about that title, but he felt proud of it in the moment nonetheless.

"Told you I needed you, bro," Guerin said once they escaped the table and went outside. Liz had texted him and said she wanted to leave in a few minutes since she still had homework. He just had to wait until she found the front door.

"Yeah, you're lucky I didn't tell you to fuck off like I wanted to," Alex said, voice light as he carefully started unwrapping the duct tape that was keeping the beer bottle in his hand. Guerin gave a big, wild smile.

"So lucky."

"So, I have a question, bro," Alex said, eyeing him slightly. He was clearly wasted beyond belief and probably wouldn't remember anything by the next morning. He didn't know if he should be upset by that or not. "How'd you know my name?"

Alex watched as his cheeks started turning redder (which was impressive since they were already red from his alcohol intake) and tried to focus on not hurting him when he took the duct tape off.

"You were in my trig class freshman year, sat two rows ahead of me," he admitted, wincing only a little when the tape tore at the hair on his hand, "Waited two whole years for you to come to a party so I could have an excuse to talk to you."

Alex sure as hell didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Instead he just freed him from his beer trap and took a step away.

"You think I could, uh, I could get your number or something, bro?" Guerin requested, looking half asleep now that he'd sat down for more than a couple seconds. Alex debated it. What could it hurt? If he regretted it, he could just not respond.

"Sure, I guess," Alex agreed, "Where's your phone?"

Despite being drunk and sleepy, Guerin basically scrambled to find his phone that was in his impressively large pockets. Alex wondered if he wore those so he wouldn't lose his phone when he got this drunk. Instead of thinking about that, he typed in his number and saved it before giving it back.

"Alex, let's go," Liz said as she appeared in the doorway, lipstick smudged and hair noticably less pristine than when they got there. He decided not to comment on it.

"Don't fall asleep out here, bro," Alex told Guerin who just smiled sleepily and nodded.

"Bye, bro!" Guerin called after him as they walked away.

"Since when are you friends with Michael?" Liz asked in confusion.

Alex looked over his shoulder one last time and shrugged.

"Tonight, I guess."

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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jae-writes-fanfiction · 4 years

Text

Caviar and Cigarettes

Ashton x Reader - Collab Masterlist - 3763 Words - Part 1 of 1

Notes: this was written as part of a collab event as a gift for @mermaidcashton using a mix of their different suggested tropes but specifically ‘waking up in vegas.’ I hope you enjoy it ❤️ also I’ve never been to a casino I’m sorry this is 100% based off of what I know from TV

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, people are on a plane which could be scary, light nsfw content, some swearing.

- - -

The overhead compartments creaked as the plane rushed down the runway headed for liftoff. The sensation always sent a shiver down your spine and caused knots to grow in your stomach.

You hated flying and had everyone been back in LA instead of visiting the UK on a press tour, you would’ve opted to drive to Las Vegas from home and meet the boys there. Unfortunately for you, being their one-person PR/Social Media Management team placed you behind the scenes for the entire junket. And now, it placed you in the window seat of a plane preparing to hurtle dangerously through the sky- although your friendship with the bride-to-be was partly at fault.

Next to you, Ashton rolled his eyes as you gripped the armrest tightly. Across the aisle he watched Michael and Crystal giggle at something, and just ahead of them he could see Callum and Luke watching a movie on one of their phones.

He loved his friends and was beyond happy for Michael and Crystal but each of their small smiles and soft looks felt stifling and Ashton found himself wishing things could just be like when they were younger. Everything felt easier then, it was much more fun going on trips, there was less pressure to do or say the right thing or post the right statuses. They were just four friends making music. Now, everything was different including you.

You silenced your phone and offered Ashton a consolatory smile. “I know you’d rather be across the aisle,” you said glancing over at the others, “but let’s try to be friendly it’s a long flight.” There was a slight edge to your tone and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re right dollface,” Ashton bit back, “I’d much rather be seated with my friends. Not our social media manager.”

You felt a warmth spread across your face as you tried to think of a smart response. Ashton has always been the most aloof of the four when you joined the behind the scenes team yet every conversation with him turned sour.

When you didn’t respond Ashton decided to keep going. “I mean I offense but how the hell are any of us supposed to relax when you’re here hovering around? This is supposed to be a party! A vacation! But you make it look like work.”

“That’s right Ash,” you said icily, “because I am working. I have to make sure none of you do anything stupid while you’re ‘having fun and letting loose’.”

And there you go, Ashton thought, like always making everything else difficult. Why couldn’t you just be agreeable?

“Besides,” you said interrupting his thoughts, “the last thing the group needs is more dating drama. Your last stint did enough damage.”

There. You said it, after weeks of thinking it you actually said it. You didn’t blame him for how the breakup went and for a while you were proud at how little attention Ashton gave to the fan speculation. But then he deleted all their pictures together and made a few (now long deleted) vague tweets that sent the fan base into a deadly spiral that spewed death threats at his ex and caused you more than enough sleepless nights.

You felt a little guilty when he didn’t respond with another jape- but who did he think he was anyway? Sure he was attractive but he couldn’t get away with everything. Not this time. Not after you had to stage and arrange posts for him every time he swapped partners.

You huffed and slipped your headphones in. There was no hope for pleasant conversation, and you had no desire to fill the time with mobile games. The audiobook claimed to calm and soothe the overworked professional with meditation and organization tips. Compared to the $350 plane fare the $25 download seemed like a reasonable and informative way to fill the ten-hour flight.

By the halfway mark you’d been proven wrong on both accounts. The narrator’s lilting accent was distracting in all the wrong ways, and the information sounded like every motivational speaker ever; all hype and no substance. Twice you felt your eyes drifting closed and twice you managed to snap yourself out of it. The third time however you didn’t snap back awake as your head lolled to the side.

The brush of your hair against his shoulder alerted Ashton to the situation. He chuckled lightly under his breath, for a moment you were at peace. For a moment you were someone he didn’t know, someone he might’ve liked to know better.

But moments don’t last forever, Ashton knew this to be true and before long the light jostling of the plane woke you up. You blinked slowly trying to adjust to the lights and grimaced as Ashton came into focus. The intensity of his gaze puzzled you. Was there something on your face? The expression was unconscious, but Ashton saw it flicker across your face and that stung. Not even away more than a minute and you were already getting to him.

Uninterested in having another quiet row like a soon-to-be-divorced couple, he quickly looked away leaving you once again to choose between silence and the droning audiobook as the plane crossed the Atlantic and then the entirety of the North American continent.

The sun had already set when the descent started. Outside you could see the world swathed in swatches of brilliant color and dazzling shapes against the horizon. It felt like your heart skipped a beat. The Vegas strip was everything you’d expected. The hotel itself looked like a work of abstract art, it’s glass elevators sparkling under the desert sunset.

Late dinner reservations had been made for the five of them, and you took the opportunity to settle into your room, eat an entire room service pizza, and take a nap. They would be out on the hotel’s casino floor for the rest of the night and you were more than happy to join them.

By the time you put yourself together and got there, the house was in full swing. The music was loud, the people louder. You noticed Ashton first at a roulette table surrounded by other beautiful people. You turned to walk away and look for Crystal when he noticed you.

You smiled thinly and made your way over to him, you had to. Anything else would’ve been seen as rude and that was a problem you didn’t want to deal with.

You lightly touched his shoulder to let him know you were there and glanced over the table. He hasn’t lost anything but wasn’t winning either. Ashton froze at your touch, the innocuous gesture sent a shock through his body, and at that moment something changed.

The dealer called for bets to be placed for the new round as you settled in next to Ashton. The dark jacket paired well with the retro red shirt he wore and you had trouble looking away.

“You look-“ Ashton started but couldn’t finish the sentence, his wide eyes glanced over your body for one of the first times seeing it outside of business wear. The metallic accents caught in the low light and cast an ethereal glow over you that kept drawing his focus.

You flushed, “thanks...you do too.” The sentiment felt heavy despite the normalcy of the exchange and you quickly accepted a glass of something from a roaming waiter to loosen your tongue.

You glanced back over the table and turned to Ashton with a conspiratorial grin. You leaned in to whisper and Ashton felt your hot breath on his neck.

“Always bet on black,” you offered while biting your lip as he laughed lightly. Everyone said that everyone knew that was a rookie move. But for the moment it seemed like the best advice and you were shocked when he did it.

Not as shocked as you were when he won.

Ashton turned and looked at you, amazed.

“Ash that was so lucky!” You gushed openly and your genuine smile pulled at his heart.

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said softly, the honest edge to his voice surprising you. You laughed awkwardly trying to play off the sentimentality of the words but they kept playing over in your mind.

“I think the happy couple ran away for a little bit,” he offered quickly moving on, “but I think we ought to go celebrate.”

You nodded, “well since I did help you win, I suppose you could buy me a drink.”

Ashton grinned back and quickly gathered his winnings before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you towards the lounge. You could smell his cologne as you walked and you weren’t sure if it was that or his hand on your hip that kept distracting you from whatever he was saying.

The hazy lounge atmosphere was almost as intoxicating as the cocktails that Ashton kept ordering for the two of you. The liquor burned in all the best ways and a soft sweet taste lingered on your lips. You felt warm and giddy, and surprisingly happy to have been spending this time with Ashton.

At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and you laughed at one of his jokes. Had he been sober the sound might’ve broken his heart, like most secret things do if they’ve been dreamed about before.

You turned to say something but stopped with the words dead on arrival. Ashton was closer than you had realized while talking, your faces just inches apart. The red hue of the lights flashed across his features and seemed to show how truly beautiful he was.

For a moment the closeness lingered, and you could feel a tense stiffness in the arm around you, and electricity where his hand curled around your bare shoulder. Unconsciously you felt your face tilt up towards his, and Ashton felt the same desire to close the gap.

What am I doing, you thought trying to blink out of it, I technically work for him I can’t kiss him! Besides he doesn’t even tolerate me normally.

Ashton froze, unable to tear himself away from you, the soft tint of the lights exaggerated the shadows on your face and kept drawing his eyes back to your lips. His hand on your shoulder itched to run up to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck and pull you against him.

She doesn’t even want to be here, he thought suddenly, why the hell would she want to kiss me on top of that?

But somewhere in the back of his mind Ashton knew you were struggling over something similar. He knew you were at least tempted, otherwise you would’ve moved.

A scantily clad cocktail waitress interrupted the moment and sent you both back to looking away. Your stomach felt uneasy from the tension and you drank quietly for a while contemplating your next move. You needed to say something funny, something light to keep this good energy going.

“Look at the bartender,” you said, “can you imagine him working anywhere else?” Your joke was directed at a thin sort of person who without a doubt had the Vegas aesthetic down to a T.

Ashton felt his heart drop, couldn’t you say something nice? Did you always have to be so critical of everyone?

“That’s typical,” he mumbled into his drunk.

“What do you mean it’s typical?”

“You, princess. Always having some shallow thing to say,” he took a long drink draining the glass before turning back to your shocked face.

This had been a bad idea, you knew he had some problem with you but it had been enough.

Refusing to cause a scene on the crowded floor you swiftly stood. “It was just a joke,” you hissed through a clenched jaw before walking towards the lobby and elevators that would whisk you back to the safety of your room.

“Hey come back!” Ashton tossed money into the table and quickly darted after you, slipping into the elevator at the last second.

“We were having a good time,” he said defensively, “stop being such a spoilsport.”

“A good time? Sure, it’s all fun and games for you. Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe something is majorly wrong when you can’t go twenty minutes without insulting me?”

“It wasn’t an insult it was a comment.”

You laughed openly, “oh that’s rich Ash. A comment.”

The doors slid open on your floor and you quickly turned heel and left. You heard his footfalls behind you and it took everything in you to resist slamming your door before he could enter the room. You angrily kicked your shoes off sending them in varying directions that you didn’t care to fix.

Ashton felt his palms get sweaty and his mouth dry. He didn’t want to keep watching you walk away anymore. “Can’t we just talk about this like friends?”

“Friends?” You felt your heart get all twisty at the words, “we’ve never been friends Ashton.”

When he didn’t respond you continued, crossing your arms in front of your chest as if the pressure would keep you still and safe.

“I used to think we could’ve been. When we first met I thought: now there’s the one- attractive and smart and mature. But all you’ve ever done is play games, spew pretensions, and hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said lamely taking a step closer to you.

“You don’t hate me? Oh that’s right you just hate the way I dress, and joke, and talk...” You met his gaze with a challenge and in another first of the night, he accepted.

Ashton looked at you with a fondness he had never expressed out loud and a gentleness that’s translated in how he took your hand in his and pulled you against him.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he said softly cupping your cheek with his other hand, “I hate that when you’re here you’re always working, I hate that you can’t ever just be with us, I hate that I miss you when you don’t answer a text, and I absolutely loathe that when you do it’s because you have to talk to me.” Because I want to talk to you, he thought unable to form the words in the mouth.

You suddenly felt very small pressed against him and you knew he could see the heat rising in your face.

“Professional was just easier,” you whispered unable to look him in the eyes, “because I don’t hate you either. For a long time I hated having to orchestrate and present people with you-“ because they weren’t me, you thought unable to say the words out loud.

His thumb softly traced the slant of your cheekbones as you hesitantly looked back into his eyes, and unlike in the lounge you did resist the urge to close the space between you, and neither did he.

The kiss was soft and filled with the emotion of everything not said, like all first kisses should be.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he whispered whilst placing kisses to the sides of your face, “not even a little bit, not even at all.” As your lips let a second time you both felt how surely the sentiment was quite the opposite and had been for quite some time.

Ashton was the only thought in your mind, and the only word on your lips as the kisses grew sloppier and needy. He tasted like cherry syrup from the cocktails and you wanted more.

A little disoriented from the alcohol you haphazardly walked backward pulling Ashton with you until you felt the edge of the mattress press against your calves. In a fit of giggles, you both tumbled back onto the bed.

You had never seen him smile like this before, his whole face seemed brighter and you knew instantly he was thinking the same things too. You moved in a flurry of hands and touches that struggled through the haze to remove clothes.

You straddled him to slide the jacket from his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until that too was discarded. Your hands trembled as they skated across his chest, and you felt him shiver as they were replaced with your lips. You slid down his body leading trails of kisses that stopped just above his belt buckle. The way it caught the light sent a delicious shiver down your spine and you tucked that thought away for another time.

Deftly you slipped the belt off before working on the slacks. You slowed and groaned softly upon revealing a dark red pair of lace pants under his trousers.

“Sweetheart,” you cooed teasingly as you repositioned yourself between his legs, “you should’ve led with this.” His hoarse laugh stifled into moans as you traced the lace with your tongue. Your eye wandered to the glittering bottle of champagne on the nightstand and between it and the heady look on Ashton’s face, you knew it was going to be a good night.

The next morning which really ended up being the next afternoon- you were pleased to wake up curled and tangled around a very naked Ashton. The pounding headache and dry mouth were a direct contrast.

You were thankful the curtains were still closed as the moderate darkness seemed to help the monster out hangover you were now feeling. You shifted slightly and were surprised to notice you weren’t entirely naked. You were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t remember owning. The words looked like gibberish but you gathered it was from the hotel’s gift shop.

The discovery prompted you to look around the room and you noticed something. Ashton’s fancy clothes and delightful red panties were joined by a pair of his jeans, another shirt, and an extra pair of your bottoms as well.

There were papers strewn on the nightstand and a shopping bag near the door that you didn’t remember buying. The cool air stung your bare legs and prompted you to curl back into Ashton who lazily smiled and kissed your temple as you rejoined him.

“G’morning darlin’,” he said through a yawn making you giggle.

“Do you remember going back out last night?”

Ashton shook his head but before he could say anything his ringtone cut through the silence and roused a chorus of pained groans from both of you.

He scrambled to answer it and you noticed the empty bottle of champagne on the other side of the bed, and what looked like a sacked minibar’s worth of trash with it.

I am never drinking again, you thought as the ringing subsided and your head began to throb.

“Michael wants us for brunch,” Ashton said tossing his phone back to the cluttered nightstand. You groaned at the thought of food and hoped it would be greasy enough to cut through the drunk brain fog.

You had to swing by Ashton’s room for him to get dressed making it a little later than anticipated when you finally got to the lobby. Crystal and Michael were sharing a love seat and as you both exited the elevator they erupted into raucous laughter and cheers that reverberated pain through your head.

“Aw fuck,” you hissed rubbing a hand on your temple. Ashton had an arm around your waist which kept yours from stumbling.

“Oh come on I expected a little more life after last night,” Michael called with a grin.

“I didn’t think Mikey was serious,” Crystal said, “do you have the papers on you?”

On top of them, Luke chimed in, “I got the whole crying jag on video it’ll make a hell of an update when we get back.”

You and Ashton shared a confused look and silently looked to Callum for help. He was drinking a delightful looking mimosa and sighed putting it down.

“I don’t think they remember,” he started before getting cut off.

“Awe no way! Look at them, they’re the picture of romantic bliss,” Michael taunted with a laugh.

You sighed, “come on now guys I know it’s a little odd for us to hook up but enough with the jokes.”

“Hook up?” Luke laughed, “that’s not what Elvis would have to say about it.”

You were trying not to get frustrated but it was hard. “Luke, what in the hell does Elvis have to do with anything?”

Callum cut in before the others could keep hounding you.

“Promise me you won’t freak out?”

You nodded and felt Ashton do the same.

“Alright,” Callum started slowly leaving time to gauge reactions as he spoke, “Luke and I got a call last night around 4:30, one of you were crying about how you ruined mike’s moment when you were too out of it to explain we came down here to meet you...”

As he spoke flashes of memories seemed to play in your mind. You almost remembered dialing the phone inside who to talk to, but certain you didn’t want to upset anyone.

“Apparently you’d just come in from one of those 24-hour chapels and we’re worried Mike and Crystal would be upset you stole the show.”

“Why would we go to a church?” Ashton asked slowly. Neither you nor Ashton were specifically interested in that sort of thing. Yet as he asked it you remembered stumbling through the lobby looking for something new to wear.

Your mind reeled trying to fit together pieces that you weren’t sure went to the same puzzle. You ran a hand through your hair a small ring on your hand catching in the light. You recognized it immediately as Ashton’s. Something borrowed, you thought unsure of why that mattered.

Callum shook his head as Michael dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“You dumbasses, you got married!”

You and Ashton quickly looked at each other and then back at the others and then back at each other trying to process this whirlwind of information.

The moment lingered longer than Michael found funny and without much else said you were whisked by the other happy couple off for brunch and out into a world where nothing would ever be the same.

#rpf #5sos writers collab #ashton x reader #5sos #oneshot #mermaidcashton #tw: alcohol

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nisaadventures · 3 years

Text

Oh bother…

A friend and I were talking about Winnie the Pooh characters and emotions the other day and how we resemble the different characters at different times in life. Now feels like an Eeyore season for sure.

I wasn’t always like this. I used to love celebrating my birthday, all month long if I could. Is this something that happens with age? Do some just really dislike their birthday? Or in my case, year after year of deep and painful loss has made celebrating really hard.

I think I cried every time I thought about my birthday over the last several weeks… Probably every single day this month.

I get it. If it were anyone else, I would tell them that their life should be celebrated, that life is something that needs celebrating.

Honestly, there was never anyone who celebrated my birthday as hard as my Mama and my Mama Jo. And my birthday just reminds me that last year was the last birthday I celebrated with my Mama Jo… and the year before that was the last I celebrated with my Mama and Michael… To add to that, the year before that was the last I celebrated with my Auntie Felisa… and the year before that with my Uncle Richard.

I really try not to roll with this negative narrative.

Facebook reminded me of this little gem from 2018…

8/17/18

Thank you all for all the birthday wishes😊

Disclaimer: you don’t have to read this, I’m just going to reflect on my life a bit and spread some love😊💕 it might be long🤷🏻‍♀️ it may not flow and it may not make sense to follow my train of thought 🚂 💭 but if you do read this and take something positive away from it please feel free to comment, like, or message me👍🏽

I definitely wouldn’t say I’m old and a lot of people tell me I’m still a baby, but I feel like I’ve experienced a lot in my 28 years. Some people tell me I’m wise beyond my years🤷🏻‍♀️ I’ve experienced so much joy, love, loss, sadness, frustration, and acceptance in such a short amount of time. I’ve been overly optimistic, naive, realistic, and even a bit cynical. Life can do that to you at times🤷🏻‍♀️

People have come in and out of my life, each with a lesson to teach me about myself. I’m so grateful for every good and not so good experience that has brought me to this point in life and helped shape who I am.

I’m thankful to have such a solid foundation, my family. Thank you all for showing me that love comes in all shapes and sizes. That love reaches beyond any distance, space, or time. No matter how far apart we are, how long it’s been since we last spoke, life has a way of bringing us back together just when we need it most. The people who love us will be there to rally behind us through the highest and lowest points of our lives. I feel so truly blessed to have such an amazing family. We may not be conventional, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t be who I am, or have such an open heart if it weren’t for you all.

I’m a firm believer that as we grow older we come to realize that it doesn’t matter how many friends we have, as long as at the end of the day we can say we have a few really great ones. Thank you too all my friends who have become my family. I truly value my relationship with each and every one of you. I’m not the type to trust just anyone with my feelings and thoughts, so if I’ve opened up to you at one time or another know that you have a truly special place in my heart.

It’s taken me some time, but over the last several years I can honestly say I’ve truly learned to love myself. It took a lot of introspection, humility, and honesty to get me here, but the journey is where it’s at. When you learn to recognize your thoughts, motivations behind your actions, the root of your emotions, and allow yourself to try new things, feel uncomfortable, and still do it anyways, you begin to realize so much. When you stop living for others and are true to you, true happiness emerges.

Growing up is learning to look outside yourself, but also at yourself and connect all the dots that make up your life, who you are, and who you want to be.

Where do you see yourself in 5, 10, 15 years? I used to have a cliche, realistic answer to this question... but now that I’m 28 and I’ve been through everything I’ve been through I don’t really have an answer.. I do have some hopes for the future though..

I hope that I continue to take advantage of all the time I have to witness my nieces and nephews grow up.

I hope that I continue to jump at opportunities to experience new things, travel, and learn.

I hope that I always push myself in my career, not in monetary earning, but in love for what I do. If work is where we spend majority of our waking hours, we better damn well love what we do...

I hope to show the people I love just how much they mean to me.

I hope to always stay true to myself.. to listen to my instincts.. to choose happiness whenever possible.

I hope to find bliss and abundance in every day.

These are all things I hope for you all as well💕

It’s getting late and definitely should be sleeping lol. Goodnight everyone!

When I read this little letter, its like being transported through time. How little I understood the depths of loss back then. How much I admire all my optimism. How proud I am of myself for all the resilience and grace I’ve mustered through these last several years.

I love that Aria and Keanu are excited for my birthday. Aria was so sweet and goes, “Auntie, tomorrow is your real birthday?!” (Because they sang happy birthday to me on Sunday after swimming).

So here’s another year, another trip around the sun, another year of refocusing on the good.

It is important to celebrate your birthday because it is another year that your loved ones were able to cherish and spend time with you. And that is ALWAYS something worth celebrating.

So thank you to all of you who reached out for my birthday. If I didn’t invite you to anything, its because there really wasn’t anything planned. If I’m going to cry on my birthday, I’d rather not do it in front of all of you lol. But really, thank you for reaching out, in whatever way you did.

Life can be hard and unpredictable, but its the people in our lives, who love us, and shower us with their light, that really make life beautiful. You may not know it, but seeing you all win in life really inspires me to keep moving forward.

With all my love,

Nisa

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter 20

A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Twenty

Jamie and Jason stood on the tarmac and watched Air Horse One take off with their triple crown winner. The post-race tests of saliva and blood proved beyond a doubt that Runner won the race organically and there would be no one to contest.

“How do ye feel Jamie?”

“Very relieved.”

“You shouldn't have doubted them.”

“Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, ye little upstart.”

Jason laughed at Jamie’s stern face and started walking to the taxi that would take them back to the hotel. Jamie’s phone was ringing constantly as friends called to congratulate them. Everyone felt jubilation and relief.

“How much will he get standing stud?”

“I figure around one-hundred the first year until the public knows he is fertile. After that, maybe two-hundred.”

“That doesn’t seem like much Jamie, not for a champion.”

Jamie looked at Jason, “That would be two-hundred thousand, Jason.”

Jason whistled and started doing the math. Insemination of the female had gone high tech for most of the animal breeders but not for horse racing, where the stud is required to cover the mare. During the breeding season he could cover a mare twice daily from February until early June.

“That’s like, forty-eight million dollars per year. Holy shit! Sorry.”

“Not quite. I would guess he will earn around ten million per year as a fertile stud. He won a bit over eight million with the races this year, so the racing is just the beginning. Once his offspring start winning races, especially if they make it to the Derby, it may go higher.

Jason was shocked at the number. “With money like that, you can keep me around to be his groom.”

“I had planned on selling him for stud and let someone else do all the work, but I don’t think that will happen with the Sassenach lovin him so much.”

“Train me. Teach me how to do everything and let me manage the stud part. I would love that!”

“And ye stay near yer girlfriend, aye?”

“What girlfriend?”

“Lulu, lad”

Jason stared at Jamie with wide eyes wondering what to say next. “Um, Lulu?”

“Is this a secret then? What is the mystery about?”

“I, I didn’t know if it was allowed at work.”

“Long as ye don’t date Claire, what do I care?”

Jason finally smiled and asked if he was hired as the stud manager.

”Ye really are presumptuous. Yer lucky I remember yer name every day.”

The taxi driver laughed out loud over that comment and Jason sulked. Jamie had considered training Jason if he wanted to stay but hadn’t spoken to Claire yet. That discussion would take place now that Jamie knew he wanted to stay in Kentucky.

Jamie considered the changes required to manage a standing stud. He made a mental list of products needed to build a breeding-shed, house the mares, transport them when needed, and vet services for ultrasound exams during the process. When the driver stopped in front of the hotel he was pulled from his thoughts.

Claire was ready early, as always, so Jamie suggested a cocktail at the hotel bar before they left to the airport. The race was only five hours ago and already she seemed like a different person, she looked different too. Jamie hoped she would be happy now that the racing was over.

They sat at the bar and chatted about the race. It started with one gentleman who approached them to congratulate Claire on her Triple Crown win, then another, then another, until she was surrounded by people. Claire was gracious and truly moved by the comments and those who had followed Runner’s races since early on. One man produced a ticket he bought for Runner to win. It was worth money, but he was keeping it as a souvenir.

When it became obvious that Claire’s fans were not going to leave, Jamie excused them to leave for the airport. He was so damn proud of her it was hardly containable. She had single-handedly raced the colt into superstardom. They set new track records at Chapel Hill in the Derby, as well as the Preakness, and his extraordinary record at Belmont where he beat the last record by two seconds. It was phenomenal to such a high degree Jamie had to shake his head with wonder.

Claire waved to Jason who was sitting on a couch waiting to board. He was on his cell and had a rosy glow and a smile.

“I would bet a paycheck that boy is talking to a girl.”

“Well, ye haven’t drawn a paycheck for five months, although I do owe ye seven or eight million dollars. Will ye take a check?”

“He must have a girl in New York that we have kept him from. Poor Jason.”

“Ah…Sassenach, the girl is in Kentucky.”

Claire gave him a surprised look, “who is it?”

“Lulu.”

Claire’s eyes were wide with amusement. “Who in the world could resist that little girl. How totally sweet. Jamie, where’s Michael?”

“He is staying in New York. It’s his home base and he wants to get started on the book. Sassenach?”

Claire’s eyes turned red with the sting of oncoming tears. Her attempts to stop them failed and she cried. Jamie hugged her and spoke in her ear.

“It makes ye sad, love, that the racing is over?”

“Not one bit. But we have had a team and bumped into each other for the last four months and now it’s all changing. Three days out of five Michael is snarky and yells, I certainly won’t miss that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me Jamie.”

“I do. Ye were attached at the hip for many months and now yer free. Give it a few days mo chridhe.”

Jamie pulled the armrest up, and pulled her towards him to rest. He looked down at her open eyes and figured it would take some time for her to come down from the stratosphere she was in after the race.

“Can I talk to ye about something, love?”

Claire sat up looking almost relieved to put off her nap, “of course.”

“Well, it’s come to my attention that Jason wants to stay in Kentucky, full time. I’ve been thinkin he might take to managing Runner’s breeding. It’s a lot of responsibility but he’ll have both of us to help until it’s effortless. He has a great skill with horses, he’s not afraid of anything, and I can’t do it because I’ll be callin ye home twice a day after watching that brute have his way with the lasses.”

Claire held her stomach laughing at that comment, it was music to Jamie’s ears. “What makes ye laugh Sassenach?”

She sputtered out about Jamie getting turned on by watching horses mate.

“Have ye ever seen it? Silly question. If ye had seen it before, the mere mention of the act would have ye squeezin yer thighs together and pullin me to cover ye.”

“What?”

“Oh, ya, Sassenach. It’s not for the weak. Ye see it brings out the brute in men and the surrender in women.”

Claire’s eyes were round, “what makes it so erotic for heaven’s sake.”

“Never mind Sassenach. If you care to watch when the time comes, ye best make sure I’m nearby.”

“Oh, really?”

She looked a bit heated, so Jamie dropped it. With three hours of flight time left it would become unbearable if he teased like he wanted to.

Once they were back in Kentucky, they all made their way to Runner’s wing to check on the colt. It was so quiet, not a soul in sight. Such a harsh contrast to New York with the fanfare and screaming Runner fans. Jamie hugged her and apologized for not arranging a loud welcome home.

“So, lass, we find ourselves with a few hours to kill. Are ye ready to hear the rest of the breedin story? Mind ye, there are a lot of details about bitin, and grabbin, and thrustin.”

Claire exhaled out of open lips and eyes half-lidded, “yes, I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

Jamie was feeling he might not make it home without pulling her into the long grass, so they took the truck and stripped on their way to the shower. It took all of Jamie’s strength not to take her under the flowing water. That is not how one loves a Triple Crown winner, so he held himself back.

He dried her with fluffy towels and spread scented oil into her skin. When he rubbed near her nipples, she opened her mouth to facilitate heavier breathing. When he got between her legs, she watched him with rapturous eyes and a ramming heart. He led her to the bed and pushed her back on pillows against the headboard watching her watch him. He pulled her legs open and licked her bud with a warm wet tongue. Just once, then leaned on his elbow. It was storytime.

“The breeding shed I will build is for one purpose only, hot sex with a stallion. The mare’s estrus will drive him mad with lust until he will dispatch anyone who gets between them.” Jamie ran his flat palm over the skin of her legs and stomach. He bites her tail until she moves it aside, letting him sniff and lick her. She wants him, her pussy is flowing with her need that puddles between her back legs, and he goes wild and pushes his face into her.” Jamie ran his tongue over her throbbing bud for one minute and then he moved toward her breasts. ”He needs to bite her because it gets him ready. She wouldn’t stand for it normally, but she wants him like a thousand fires are burning in her pussy.” Claire was breathing hard and trying to touch him only to have her hands brought back to her sides. “When he mounts her, the extraordinary energy in the way he loves her carries most people off to find their partner and beg them to stop the throbbing.”

Claire’s eyes had glazed over and she was panting. Jaime pulled her to her hands and knees, entering her from behind and thrusting with power enough to make her orgasm, shaking her way back to earth.

“Ye looked a bit undone, love. Now we slow it down.”

He led her in and out of the heights of ecstasy, making his demands for her mouth and body until she was clinging to his shoulders begging him to finish her. He was holding back so fiercely it was easy to let it go when she did, and they blasted off together.

Jamie was slick with sweat when he held her close and made sure she dropped into the void. She needed to rest after such an exciting day, and he could tell she surrendered to her exhaustion. He laid back and finally allowed himself to think about their extraordinary future. In a few short months, Claire had taken him from dependence on Dunsany to a man of means, incredible means. He would pay off his debt after the first breeding season. He couldn’t wait.

The next day, Claire rested in bed or on the couch and ate the lunch Jamie prepared for them reminding her of their dinner at her house, a long time ago. He brought a tray with two bowls of Tomato soup and gooey cheese sandwiches. They dipped the sandwiches in the soup and ate with sounds of pure enjoyment. Once they were pleasantly stuffed, Jamie got behind her and held her to him until she was deep in sleep again. She would need strength and endurance to enjoy the night ahead.

“Where are we going, Jamie?”

“To the aquarium, love.”

Claire was thrilled with his choice and slipped into a short black dress with lace top stockings and very high heels. Her hair was straight and gleaming with the light. Her makeup was exotic and sexy. When they walked out to the truck, it had been washed and waxed.

It was the same exciting experience when they pulled up to the canopy walkway behind the aquarium. Jamie tossed the keys to the valet and walked into the building. Claire looked straight up to see what form of sea life was swimming above them. When she looked down again, she stopped in her tracks and gasped.

Molly smiled at her from a long table crowded with gifts, candles, and the faces of her twenty closest friends that had come together for her bridal shower. With some financial assistance from Jamie, Molly had pulled the surprise shower together, which was also doubling as a winner’s party tonight. Jamie turned her to him and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be back to get you when you call, love. This is girls only.”

The waiters served sumptuous platters of meats, roasted vegetables, salads, and pasta. The women could not stop eating or drinking because the platters never stopped coming. When they had eaten all they could, the serving staff set up a very large screen and a slide projector. When the women were settled the slide show started and the girls laughed and commented, calling out the special features of each resort.

Jamie had collected slides of six resorts for their honeymoon by copying from the resort website and having the pictures converted. He started the project after putting Claire’s engagement ring on the second time. It turned into a labor of love that he attended to almost daily while she trained. He was excited to share the honeymoon possibilities with the people close to her.

Claire was all smiles as the girls ooh and ahh’ed. After the thirty-minute slide show, Molly called for a vote and told Claire she had total veto power and could go where she wanted. It was a tie between Tahiti and Bora Bora.

The gifts were piled in front of Claire who was absolutely delighted with beautiful lingerie, silk stockings, beachwear, and fancy items for entertaining. Claire reached for a large square gift that was leaning against the table. It felt like a picture and as the paper came off she saw a perfectly framed, focused, picture of she and Runner crossing the finish line of the Kentucky Derby. The photographer was infield capturing Claire, Runner, the packed stands and the twin spires. She was so surprised to see a huge smile on her face. She didn’t remember smiling at that moment, too busy hanging on to him she thought. The girls were thrilled with the picture and spoke of her win reverently. Claire looked at the attached card. It was from Nosh, “Happy bridal shower, I look forward to the rest of the story.”

Claire struggled to keep her tears at bay and the last gift was her undoing. Hope laid a gift on her lap and said it was from all of them. It was a cookbook with a separate chapter from each of them, including pictures of time spent with Claire, what the dishes look like, and special wishes to their friend. It unleashed a flood of tears as she hugged each one of them.

When Claire sat down, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Jamie smiling. A waiter stood at the table with shots for the women and their men who were invited for the end to toast the future bride and groom.

Dusty hugged Claire warmly and wished her the very best life. He added how deserving she was of unending happiness. Jason hugged her as well and she watched him navigate back to Lulu. When she saw a young man with Molly her eyebrows went up and she searched Molly’s face. The man leaned a hand across the table and introduced himself as Doctor Martin Young, DVM. Claire realized that Molly was dating her boss and looked quite happy about the budding romance. They ordered another round of shots for those who would indulge. The waiter came back with three men who stood with hands clasped behind their back, looking at the floor.

“The chefs have asked to meet you, Triple Crown winner.”

Claire stood and shook each of their hands, gushing about the food and thanking them. She recognized an Italian accent, but the other two men she couldn’t guess. They each asked three questions and thanked her, looking at the picture as they left.

Jamie’s arm went around her waist and he kissed her cheek.

“Ye alright, love?”

“You just wait until I get you home, mister.” What sounded like an invitation to fight was revealed as something quite different in her eyes. Jamie pulled at his collar and tie, suddenly quite heated.

It was a spectacular party with every detail planned out by Jamie and Molly. Claire was so touched as she hugged everyone goodbye, including the wait staff. She pressed her hands against the glass and two Beluga whales were there to say goodbye, one had a baby swimming close. She smiled at them and turned around to leave.

“That is her sister, and she is pregnant now too. I must leave a note for the manager about her condition. I sense she is deficient in calcium and magnesium which could harm the baby.” Claire wrote her note while she spoke to Jamie and handed it to a waiter on their way out.

If the aquarium had been just ten miles closer to the compound, they would have made it home. The extra ten miles gave Claire time to kiss her way to Jamie’s zipper where she took advantage of his occupation with driving until he turned sharply into the woods and stripped her bare before looking at her like the prize she was.

When they were pressed together, both slick with sweat and panting, they hardly had the strength to disengage. Jamie ran his hand up her naked back and wanted to tell her everything in his heart, but instead, he heard a metallic knock on the window making Claire jump out of her skin.

They heard it again followed by the officer’s irritated voice.

“Get dressed and step outside the truck or I pull you both out in two minutes.”

“Jesus Jamie, are we going to jail?”

“I don’t think so, love, but do hurry and get dressed so I don’t have to hurt the man just doing his job.”

“What?”

Claire looked at the ground as she handed her license to the officer. Jamie stared him right in the eye and felt no fear of arrest.

“Your names sound so familiar, ah Christ, repeat offenders, you people disgust me.”

The officer was reaching for his handcuffs when Jamie pulled his ace.

“Certainly not officer, first and last time I assure you. We’ve been so busy winning horse races, well, she has been, we were overcome with some alone time finally. Our names are familiar because Claire won the Triple Crown on Midnight Runner yesterday.”

Jamie had been in Kentucky long enough to know these were good people who were proud of their heritage and state. The officer froze and looked up at Claire. He took her hand and shook it while his face softened and he smiled.

“Thank you, for what you’ve done for the state of Kentucky ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you and you broke the law, but I can’t charge you. Midnight Runner is bred here and that will bring interest and money into this state for a very long time.”

He looked at Jamie, “you, on the other hand, should know better and you’re going to jail. Is this your husband ma’am?”

“No, uh, he is the breeder and owner of Midnight Runner, actually.”

The man’s head jerked up and Jamie thought he might pass out when the blood ran out of his face. The officer shook his hand and smiled before running to his cruiser coming back with his regulation pocket-sized notebook.

“No jail time for either of you. It was such an honor meeting you both. Can I get your autograph…please? Oh, my name is Jack.”

‘To Kentucky’s finest, thank you, Jack.’ Both autographs were below the sentence and the officer looked at his notepad like it was suddenly made of gold. He made haste getting his cruiser out of their way and waved out the window. Jamie laughed for the next five miles toward home. Claire was just thankful she wasn’t in jail. By the time they parked the truck at home, Claire was scratching her itchy bumps until she bled.

She hopped to the door so she could keep itching her leg. When Jamie looked at her under the porch light his eyes got wide and he picked her up and carried her inside. Claire had mosquito bites up and down her legs, both arms, chest, and face. Her little black dress and stockings did nothing to protect her while the officer detained them outside, in the dark, where she was feasted upon.

Jamie felt so sorry for her which she would never believe because he couldn’t stop laughing. After a shower, he counted two hundred and twenty-three bites before he covered her in calamine lotion. Once the lotion was dry, towels were laid on the bed and Claire laid on her back like a corpse. Jamie tried to kiss her goodnight but even her lips were pink, so he busied himself, quite unsuccessfully, with trying not to laugh.

Claire stayed inside for the next two days, repeatedly applying calamine lotion and doing her time until the bites were gone. Each morning Jason would greet Runner with his chipper hello, and later Jamie would give his daily hug and sugar cube. Neither of them could hear his continuous questions about Claire. Where is she, does she want to race, why isn’t she here, can we race now, I miss her, I am fearful.

Runner wouldn’t eat his dinner on what was his third day without seeing Claire. He whinnied and paced, kicked at the door and corral bars and refused to go outside during his favorite time of the day. Jamie told him he would bring Claire back to see him but Runner could not understand him.

“Sassenach, I need ye to come to the barn, Runner is having some distress and ye need to have a look.”

Claire stood up, ready to go with her pink patches remaining on the bumps that still itched. She didn’t care. She pulled Jamie toward the truck and then went straight to Runner’s stall. He was pacing with sweat running down his back and neck. When she walked around the corner he whinnied and pushed his chest into the bars to smell her, tracking her to the stall door as she came to hug him. He dropped his head and pressed into her back to get her closer as he nickered to her. Angus walked up behind a watching Jamie and shook his head.

“Any thought of sellin him to stud is just not gonna happen Jamie boy.”

Claire looked at Runner and said, “of course you can.” Then she opened the stall door and walked out with Runner right behind her. Jamie’s eyes were wide with alarm because Runner had no halter or lead. He held his breath and followed, along with Angus, as she led the colt out to the big pasture where he could gallop his stress away, toss his head with his tail in the air. He ran toward Claire at a murderous speed cutting to the right two feet in front of her. She didn’t flinch but called to Angus to bring Porcelain Love out to run with him. Angus almost fainted when Runner charged her, and his heart was still racing as he led Porcelain out. Once her halter was pulled off, she reared up on her back legs spinning her body toward the open pasture and took off. Angus said something about late for dinner and left quickly.

Jamie held is hand out to Claire and they walked to their favorite spot on the fence where they could see the sun setting and two magnificent horses celebrate being alive.

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chemiste · 4 years

Text

Foresight ~ ch. 2

A/N : hello hi howdy, here’s ch. 2, let me know what y’all think!!

ch. 1

All you could do was weakly nod and follow the large mass of muscle through the crowd with Maggie attached to your arm. He swiped his keycard on a door and led you through a hallway, where you heard voices becoming louder and louder.

Fuck me.

Maggie gave you a reassuring squeeze as the guard knocked and then opened the door, pushing both of you inside and closing it.

There they were, the band members all scattered on different chairs, a few others in all-black outfits with clipboards and headsets, and then, Harry Styles, sparkly jacket discarded on the chair next to him in the dressing room and stressfully running his hands through his sweaty hair. All his rings were placed on the table as though they had continuously snagged his hair and he got frustrated.

The room seemed to go dead silent when you entered.

Then, Harry spoke.

“How in the world did you know those songs.”

You swallowed, “I’m so sorry I—“ the whole room erupted with loud shouts, people whipping out laptops and typing faster than you’d every seen before.

A large man came storming up to you, “Where did you leak it, or where did you find it? These songs are worth a lot more than you miss, so I suggest you speak very quickly so this doesn’t cause more of a problem than it is right now.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but was cut off by a scream across the room, “—what do you mean you can’t find the leaked file?! There has to be one! Look again!”

You tried to butt in, “Please this is all a misunderstanding—“ “Just tell us which server you found the songs on!” “Please sir I—“ “Enough with the babbling! Just tell me—“

A large smack quieted the room, you turned around to see Maggie with the door handle in her hand. She must have slammed the door open and shut.

“Will you please let her speak?” She huffed. You had never been prouder to have Maggie as your friend.

You turned back to all the awaiting people squirming in their spots.

“There is no leak whatsoever anywhere online or physical.”

A few people let out breaths of relief, but Harry spoke up again, this time walking closer toward you.

“But how did you know the songs?” You rubbed the back of your neck and squeezed your eyes shut, “This is going to sound ridiculous but, I’m psychic.”

A couple scoffs were let out and the man that had been previously screaming in your face said, “And you think we’re supposed to believe that?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Maggie spoke up, “She’s been able to know things before others do all her life.”

“Prove it.” You and Harry spoke at the same time. You looked him dead in the eye as he continued, “How am I supposed to be 1000 percent certain you’re telling the full truth?” You said at the exact same time he did.

Now people were intrigued, “As I have your attention, I’d like you to know that I’m very sorry about the whole songs thing. It’s just sometimes I say things subconsciously and can’t register if I should know it already or not—plus the vodka I’d been drinking before didn’t help either.”

You continued, “I only know the songs because the melody had been stuck in my head recently and I guess maybe down the line your fans will figure out your blanks in the song. I only sang ‘tasted’ and ‘ride it’ because I can only predict that’s what they’re going to come up with soon. And apparently, they sing it for you since you don’t.”

Harry’s manager, whose badge read, AZOFF, clapped him on the shoulder with a grin hanging off his face, “Man Styles, your fans are really something.”

That seemed to release the tension in the room. Mr. Azoff told everyone the crisis was averted and people scattered from the room except the band. “I’ll catch you tomorrow Harry, good show tonight.” His manager said as he left the room.

Once the door shut, a dark-haired woman came bounding over to you, “Hey Sarah.” You smiled at her and she seemed to be in awe, “You’re like a superhero!” You scrunched your nose at her declaration, “I don’t think of it that way, more like lucky guesses.” “Lucky guesses! Psh! You knew the George Michael bit of Anna, and we just put that in. You are magical.” Mitch exclaimed for his seat on the couch.

“So now what?” Maggie asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. You looked back to the British rockstar, he smiled and dramatically put his hand out to you.

Hesitantly, you slid your hand into his. “Ms.—” “Y/N” “—Ms. Y/N, will you do me the gracious honor of accepting my apology for believing something so terrible of you.”

A couple snickers were heard from the band, and Maggie as well. You rolled your eyes at his tactics, for a super celebrity, he’s still a huge dork. “Of course I will, I totally understand what a disaster it would be to have something leaked.”

Click!

You both turned your heads to the door, where a woman with a camera stood taking a picture of your hands together. “Hey, are you the psychic people are chatting about?”

You let go of Harry’s hand as she snapped another picture, “Yes I am, my name is Y/N.”

The photographer came inside the door and slung the camera strap over her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you, but Harry and co, its time for the post-concert shot and I want to do it on the stage before they shut down the lights.”

Harry’s head perked up at her request and the band members got up to leave. He slipped his rings back on quickly as well before exiting.

Maggie got up from the couch and everyone headed out back to the stage. You both wandered behind them, not really know if you could leave or not. “What are we supposed to do now?” She whispered.

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked to the side of the stage and watched the talented musicians link up to take a farewell photo. It made you smile, they each seemed truly happy in each other’s company.

As everyone left the stage to finally retire to their respective rooms for the night, Harry walked over to you, with a bit of strut in his step?

“Did you wan’ a photo or somthin’?” He asked with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes at the narcissism, “I’ve already got a picture of you to post on my phone, thanks though.”

Now it was your turn to wear a cheeky smile, the man seemed taken back by your denial and Mags, on the other hand, was beyond herself with disbelief.

“Well, if you’re not gonna take a picture with him, I sure as hell am!” Shoving her phone into your hand, she pulled the much taller man in for a hug and smiled at the camera.

Click!

You smiled at the picture and gave the two a thumbs up. You glanced at the time and your eyes went wide. “Oh god, Mags we gotta go! It’s almost 12am.” You put your hand out to shake his, “It was great to meet you but we have to leave, got a train to catch early in the morning.”

“Where are you girls headed off to?”

Maggie gave a little dance, “Paris baby! I’m so fucking excited to see the Eiffel tower again!” Both of you chuckled at her response. He turned to look back at you, “What a coincidence, I’ll be performing there the night after tomorrow. Are you sure you’re not following me?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble superstar, but that’s not the case. This is our spring break trip and miraculously Maggie’s father got last minute tickets from a colleague that couldn’t use them. That’s why we’re here right now.”

“It was lovely seeing you perform, you really know how to use a stage.” You continued. “Yeah! You really did look like sex during Caroli—”

Shit, maybe Maggie isn’t as sober as I hoped, you thought as you immediately put your hand over her mouth.

“Ha ha, um, so ya on that note, we’re gonna go. Bye Harry.” He chuckled as you pulled Maggie away who now realized what she had spilled out.

“Bye Y/N.”

Ding!

It was already 1am and Harry had just settled into bed for the night, he grabbed his phone that had lit up from the notification.

1 New Email : Hélène Pambrun

Harry opened the email Hélène sent him.

Hey, I edited this picture and thought you might like it, maybe something to post. Only if you want to though.

Night.

Attached-JPEG.

Harry click the attachment and smiled.

Then posted it.

“Okay, the timer is a go!”

Maggie ran back over to where you were next to the ledge of the bridge, her ponytail bouncing with each step.

Paris was beautiful at night, and even more so, the Eiffel Tower that was lit up in front of you. You both faced the iconic monument and waited a second for the timer to take the photo.

Click!

Mags went over to grab your phone, “It’s perfect, we are such fashion icons. Even Anna Wintour would be proud.”

You looped your arm with Maggie’s and you headed off to site see some more. You posted the picture while you window-shopped, stopping a couple times to look at certain items before venturing on.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow Mags?” You asked as you both entered the hotel lobby, finished with your escapades.

“Well, we should see if the Louvre will even be a possibility—“ “It won’t be.” “—oh, too many tourists tomorrow?” She questioned.

“No, a child will throw up on the entry door and close it down for a couple hours for cleaning.” You answered, swiping the key into your hotel door.

Maggie toed her shoes off and opened the bathroom door, “It’s great traveling with someone that knows if things could go to shit or not.” You cracked a smile and went to sit down on your bed opposite hers.

As you changed into pjs, your phone started blowing up with so many notifications that it was slowly moving off the nightstand.

“Woo’s cawling yoow at tis time?” Maggie asked with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“They’re not calls,” you answered, picking up your phone.

“It’s notifications on Instagram.”

“Huh?” Maggie came over and sat down to read over your shoulder.

Hundreds of comments rolled in on your phone, you checked Instagram and gasped.

“Maggie I have about 3000 new followers what’s going on?” The brunette leaped up to grab her phone and scroll through with you.

“Oh my god, Y/N, it looks like there are videos of you singing at the show going viral!” “What! Why did I not see this beforehand?!”

“I don’t know but these speculators are growing in size, should we contact the Harry Style’s headquarters account? People are already coming up with crazy theories and I’ve only been to one fan account.”

You watched with wide eyes as more people filled your Instagram posts with comments and questions, “Do I go on private?!”

“No!” Maggie nearly shouted, “You can’t do anything that would raise suspicions even more, people already have screenshots of your posts it wouldn’t matter anyway.” Email coming through!

Huh?

Ding! Ding!

1 New Email: Jeffery Azoff

“Mags, I just got an email from Harry’s manager.”

You said with a shaky voice, “What are you waiting around for, open it!”

You clicked the message.

Dear Ms. L/N

Due to a social media outbreak, I would like to meet with you tomorrow before the concert to discuss how to further proceed in light of recent events. Please come by at 1pm, attached is the pass to show security and address of the arena.

Jeffery Azoff

“He wants me to come by before the Paris show! To talk about what’s happening.” She nodded approvingly, “See, the professionals will handle it. Y/N don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

There you were, 1pm sharp with Maggie by your side as you showed the electronic pass to the guard at the door of the center.

You had to squeeze through the line of already awaiting fans which made you feel really guilty as you felt their envious stares on the back of your head as the guard like you in.

You opted to wear something that was not your Ramones t-shirt and funny enough, you seemed to see an increase in that particular band attire as you made your way through the crowd.

You had on your trusty high waisted blue jeans and a thin black semi turtle neck with shiny black booties for height. Maggie dressed down as well, going with a long sleeve red dress and brown thigh highs.

Once you both wove your way through the maze that was the backstage, you arrived at B34, the room Mr. Azoff asked you to meet him.

Here goes nothing.

You opened the door and were greeted with Jeff, a few other crew members and—

“ ‘ello Y/N, a pleasure to see yeh again.”

Harry Styles sat in a chair at the table in sweats and a pink sweatshirt that said ‘fuck I’m cute’ in cursive.

“Come please seat down, we don’t have that much time and I would like to patch things up quickly before the show so that Harry here doesn’t get bombard with shouts about our lovely Ramones Girl.” His manager said.

Well, that made you blush a dark shade of red, you sat down and Maggie sat next to you on the right, giving your hand a quick squeeze before pulling away.

Mr. Azoff rested his head on his arm that was propped up on the table, “So not to beat around the bush, the stats for this ‘new story’ are growing and quickly, E!News has already tweeted out the #ramonesgirl this morning and Teen Vogue liked a post on one of harry’s more dedicated fan pages stylesinlove that has pretty clear video and audio of seeing you and your singing.”

He pushed the computer toward you, “These are a couple of postings you could put up on your feed if you’d like to clear up confusion or,” he paused for a moment and you leaned forward into his hesitation.

“Or what?” You simply asked, curious beyond belief.

“You could simply tour with Harry for a few more shows and make a comment or two for some fan pages that you’ve just been a fantastic friend of Harry’s for a while and already knew the songs since he had shared them with you beforehand.”

You turned to Harry would hadn’t spoken up the whole time, “And you’re okay with that? It’s kind of a big deal to say I’m one of the people you shared unreleased music with.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, can’t very well tell them you’re a psychic, can we? That would be hard to explain to the press.”

You leaned back into the chair with the realization that this seemed to be the only way unless you wanted to show the world your sorta abilities.

What about Maggie?

“What do you think?” You turned to your friend.

She put her arms behind her head and smiled, “hey, I’ve got to go back to uni two days but honestly Y/N you could just transfer the two classes you’re taking to online and have a blast with Mr. Worldwide over here.”

She gestured to Harry who was smiling into his hand, “I think it’s an opportunity you should not pass up. But you better call me every once in a while okay?!”

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeff.

“I’m in.”

ch. 3

telephone hour for this chapter

foresight masterlist

#harry styles fic #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader series #harry styles concert #harry styles tour #harry styles tour 2018 #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles medicine #harry styles anna

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

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Michael After Midnight: The VelociPastor

Movies that are made to evoke the feel of a bad film are not all that uncommon. You have gems like the Sharknado franchise, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, and of course the crown jewel of such films, Kung Pow! Enter the Fist. But as a wise man once said, “There is a fine line between stupid and clever.” For each of these examples of a good, enjoyable bad-on-purpose film, there are dozens of films that either fall short or just crash and burn. A lot of the more tongue-in-cheek SyFy originals can end up like this if they’re not careful, and even delightfully goofy stuff like Manborg ends up falling a bit short of greatness due to one or two factors. It’s a tightrope walk that few can truly balance.

Thank fuck that The VelociPastor is one of those select few.

Based off of a fake trailer ffrom 2011, The VelociPastor follows in the proud tradition of legends like Machete and Hobo with a Shotgun in being a fake movie made beautifully, hauntingly real. It is a film made with the lowest of budget and the highest of passion. It’s a sight to behold.

The film really doesn’t have anything egregiously awful about it… at least by accident. Yes, the effects are terrible. That’s part of the joke. One of the first jokes is literally an explosion that, instead of appearing, just has the words “VFX MISSING” sumperimposed on the screen. And yes, the plot is beyond ludicrous and takes the most ridiculous of turns at every possible moment, occasionally stopping to detail the convoluted backstories of characters moments before they die. But again, this is all by design. You are SUPPOSED to think all of these things are stupid and laugh at them. You’re not supposed to take it seriously when a dude in a shitty dinosaur costume purchased from Spirit Halloween Store fights a bunch of inexplicable ninjas. You’re supposed to be laughing your ass off.

I think what sets this movie apart is just how great, like genuinely great these actors are. Each and every single one of them delivers all the ridiculous lines of dialogue with the utmost conviction. Greg Cohan in particular, the titular character, is so genuinely good and has such great delivery of his corny one-liners that I can honestly see him easily starring in a big-budget film and holding his own. He’s seriously great. Other highlights include Frankie Mermaid, an utterly ridiculous gangster pimp who steals the show in the two scenes he’s in, and an extended role for the man, the myth, the legend that is cult musician Voltaire (who I am happy to say I recognized immediately because of his pointed ears).

I guess if I had any complaints it’s that on occasion some of the things they do with the camera are a bit TOO weird for their own good. I do think generally it adds to the charm, but there were some absolutely bonkers choices at some point. There’s also the sad fact that one man’s hilarious stupid is always going to be someone else’s genuinely stupid. This movie is designed to be low budget and dumb, so obviously there will people who find it as such. Movies like this are doomed to middling ratings on movie review sites, sadly.

Still, if you’re in the mood for some silly action that has its tongue planted firmly in its cheek, there is very little that manages to surpass this. I’m a huge fan of goofy movies like this, so I loved it, and if you like movies where it’s clear that fun for everyone is prioritized, this movie is the one for you. It’s certainly no Who Killed Captain Alex, but let’s be real, what even could hope to achieve such lofty heights? This movie is a blast regardless. To quote my favorite Letterboxd review of this movie, “Brendan Steere could make The Irishman, but Martin Scorsese couldn't make The VelociPastor.”

#Michael After Midnight #Review #movie review #The VelociPastor #So bad it's good

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aewriting · 4 years

Note

All Kinds of Time: ⭐✏️🗝️

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

I’m really proud of Chapter 3, which is the therapy sequence. I love the way Alex begins to realize that he was not an idiot for choosing to have sex with someone he cared about in a setting that he thought was safe and private. You can see the way he shifts from blaming himself to blaming the actual perpetrator (his father).

✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?

In Chapter 1, there is a brief sequence where Michael tells Alex that he’s seen Jesse before, once, at the group home. I’ve read this story many times now, and I always skip that little scene when I read it because I don’t feel that it really adds much to the story, beyond some additional Jesse menace. Originally I thought I might do something more with that idea, but I didn’t, and it seems unnecessary to me now.

🗝️-What were you thinking when you wrote it?

Oooh. A lot of things, ha. Some of the settings and situations were inspired by some of my own life events (fun fact - I was once a hostess at a popular beach restaurant that had live music)! But really, there were two main themes I was keeping in mind with this story: the ups and downs of a long-term relationship, and the far-reaching impact of trauma.

1. A realistic long-term relationship. It’s just what the title of the fic says - nothing stays the same. If anyone is in a relationship long enough, there will be many ups and downs and different seasons of life. That was something I really wanted to convey here, that even though these two absolutely love each other, their relationship looks very different at different stages. And of course, unless an individual is in a reasonably healthy place, it can be difficult for a relationship to be healthy.

2. Trauma. Like a lot of people, I wondered what would have happened if Michael had used his powers in the shed and they went on the run together. But I think that such an attack would still be so devastating, with such far-reaching consequences (especially coming on top of years of additional traumas that both Michael and Alex experienced growing up). And those traumas shaped each of their world views in different ways and influenced their decisions (Alex being so fearful of his father, their existence on the margins of society that leaves them more vulnerable to attacks and coercion, for example). I wanted to show the hard work of therapy and the benefits of it, but also the realistic limits of it.

Thank you SO much for the ask! This is truly a story I love, and I’m always so happy to talk about it!

#fanfic asks

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of Marvel: Week of September 18th, 2019

Best of this Week: House of X #5 - Jonathan Hickman, Pepe Larraz, Marte Gracia and Clayton Cowles

The X-Men have conquered their greatest enemy: Death.

After the events of the last issue, it was a wonder just how Hickman would write the X-Men out of the predicament that has stopped them so many times before. In the standard Hickman way, he made retcons that enhanced the usefulness of lesser characters and provided a way out that not only makes sense, but can be used for just about anything in regards to all of our favorite dead mutants.

Goldballs had one of the dumbest powers for the longest time; the ability to propel golden balls from his chest, but in this book we learn that these balls were actually non-viable eggs that, with the help of Proteus, could be made usable. After they’re injected with mutant DNA and given life by Elixir, Tempus ages the eggs to maturity and thanks to Hope’s powers, all of them operate at peak efficiency. This allows the mutants to effectively resurrect their dead friends as husks until Xavier implants mind engrams into the bodies with their past memories.

In House of X #1, one of the first things we see is Charles Xavier meeting the reborn forms of Scott Summers and Jean Grey as full adults after they emerge from egg sacs of some kind. Initially, I thought that this was just some sort of strange symbolic rebirth thing and while it still is, it has become far more literal and intriguing because of five mutants - Goldballs, Elixir, Hope Summers, Proteus and Tempus.

Everything about this scene was immaculate and well done to a point where I almost want to cry. What coloring there was felt low and hushed, almost as if we were seeing something miraculous, the gift of light. Camera angles were mostly downwards, to capture the harmony of the group before they began their work. They stood silent and acted on instinct, indicating they'd done this before, showing us that they were absolutely sure of their process.

Xavier leaning down, cradling his children and asking them to not die again as it kills a part of him every time that they do is heart wrenching, but joyous when he gives them their memories back. There's no hesitation, only love, only care.

The gravity of the event as it happens and seeing someone like Goldballs become one of the most integral mutants in the revival of the mutant race brought me to an unknown level of joy. There was so much weight to their actions with the excellent narration by Magneto as to what exactly they were doing while talking to Polaris, making the point that when they are apart, they are still strong mutants, but together they are even more powerful than previously imagined.

I’m almost certain they used the exact same pages from House of X #1 as we watch the resurrection of the dead team, but this time we have a whole new perspective of how we got there. In an absolutely beautiful celebration of life, we see the mutants of Krakoa praise the Five for bringing their mutant family back to life and a confirmation of those mutants by Storm. Under the purple leaves of a tree of Krakoa with a bit of sunlight shining through. Purple usually symbolizes nobility, passion and authenticity and with the use of dynamic angles and heroic posing, we can be absolutely sure that these are the same mutants.

Angel, Husk, Mystique, Monet, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Cyclops and Jean Grey all died to ensure that the Mother Mold didn’t come online and destroy the mutant race. In two nine panel grids, Storm greets hew newly reborn friends, questioning how she knows that it’s truly them. After they give their answers from the somber to the cocky to the… Monet, Storm asks what they are and the crowd answers with one word: Mutant.

This message also acts as a bit of foreshadowing for the end of the book and as the theme for this issue as a whole; the idea of togetherness, something that the human race has denied mutants for all of their existence.

The level of solidarity among the mutants is inspiring, the love and pride they have in themselves in infections and makes me want to see them do nothing but succeed. However, I do have something of a concern with the level of reverence they seem to be getting. As they walk naked down the stairs to interact with their fellow mutants, the other mutants reach their hands out at them as the sun shines brightly behind them. They seem as saviors, messiahs, people standing above their fellows and that’s a potentially dangerous path for them to go down, especially since Krakoa is performing so well and don’t need egos to ruin it.

On top of their resurrections, Xavier and Emma Frost are also trying to get the world's governments to accept Krakoa's pharmaceuticals and accept the Mutant Utopia as an independent nation. With a few notable exceptions from Russia, Latveria and Wakanda (among a few other countries that also would not accept Mutants or their cure alls) most of the world is very into the prospect of life giving drugs in exchange for giving mutants diplomatic immunity and recognition.

In many ways, this is the progress that they have always strived for. Some people aren't reticent to their acts of kindness out of ideological differences, but others see the benefit of siding with the new Nation as long as they can see the benefits. They may be alliances of necessity or fear, but the point still stands that their autonomy is being recognized. They're not being actively hunted, at least since Orchis was stopped from activating the Mother Mold and with their population in the cusp of becoming what it was in the past, they are flourishing and don't NEED human support, but they find it better that they receive it.

With the world coming together for mutants, there's only one more group left to truly unite the houses: The Villains. In my opinion, most of House of X has been leading up to this, the day when even mutant villains will come in full support of Xavier's new mission to save the race and there are some nasty ones here: Mister Sinister, Lady Mastermind, Mesmero, Selene, Sebastian Shaw, Emplate, Exodus, Gorgon, Black Tom Cassidy and Azazel.

But these villains pale in comparison to the final arrival in Apocalypse. In more than one way, Apocalypse's dream has finally come to fruition as well. Mutants have risen above and finally become the dominant species that he always believed they could be. They have evolved past their petty and weak natures and embraced their strength in both numbers and power. With Krakoa welcoming him with some lovely birds, Apocalypse speaks on behalf of all of the evil mutants when he says that they will obey the laws of Krakoa as they are written and cements this new alliance with a handshake with Charles Xavier.

This blew my mind. Apocalypse's whole deal was that he would absolutely destroy the weakness in the mutant gene pool and was only able to do so with Charles Xavier dead in the Age of Apocalypse timeline. He tore the world asunder, but as we learned from one of Moira MacTaggert's past lives, even this would not have lasted. If Moira's been in contact with Apocalypse, then he too knows that following Xavier right now is the only true path to mutant evolution and supremacy.

I have never been so elated, surprised and anticipating of a comic in so long.

Pepe Larraz and Marte Gracia are a match made in heaven and this book has a cinematic quality through and through. Larraz allows the characters to appear overjoyed, happy and proud with beautiful facial expressions. With faraway shots and ever changing angles in the panels, there's such a grandeur in the story being told. The sun is always shining in this particular issue, much like it was in House of X #1, signaling a brand new day and bright future for mutantkind.

Gracia's colors are bright and vibrant, emanating with a hopeful glow. Their lighting effects are on JJ Abrams levels of shiny and somehow The Five characters stand out apart from the clothes that they used to wear. Tempus' blue pops out perfectly against Goldballs gold and black. The purple of the tree leaves in the Confirmation is absolutely beautiful and awe-inspiring and the darkness during Apocalypse's arrival set against the shining God rays is the perfect contrast.

I have never been more proud to be a fan of the X-Men. Knowing their history of death and rebirth, it's relieving to see that they now have the means to finally conquer their mortal enemy. There's so many that can be brought back to life (provided their deaths haven't already been retconned). John Proudstar, the original Thunderbird, Jamie Madrox, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Sean Cassidy, Blindfold and many others that either died so long ago or died at the hands of Matthew Rosenberg's Uncanny X-Men.

House of X has gone above and beyond and rejuvenated a portion of the Marvel Universe that has been a chaotic mess for the better part of almost 20 years by this point. There's finally unity amongst all of the mutants in the Universe, from 90s villains to even recent ones from Brian Michael Bendis' run.

Jonathan Hickman is proving that almost anything he touches turns to gold as he's crafted an amazing tale in only nine issues, counting Powers of X as well. I find myself, for the first time in a long time, not just going through the motions. I feel as though I'm witnessing a revolution occurring, an actual brand new era for some of my favorite super people.

The series is set to conclude in about three weeks for X-Men #1 and I am already so very excited. Highest of recommends.

What are we? Mutants.

#marvel #marvel comics #house of x #charles xavier #apocalypse #goldballs #magneto #storm #jean grey #monet #cyclops #jonathan hickman #pepe larraz #marte gracia #xmen #x men

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hollandsmoose · 5 years

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under the mistletoe

A/N: At this point, you might know that I love Niall Horan a whole fucking lot, so when @flickershawn volunteered me to write this, I was more than happy to do it. I also spent ages trying to figure out the layout of Niall’s house, and I think I’ve described it correctly. So here you go, my little reindeer, here’s 1.6k of mistletoe shenanigans and Christmas kisses!

Anon: Imagine you at Niall’s Christmas party and he knows Shawn has a lil crush on you so when you’re talking niall comes and puts a mistletoe above you and Shawn and you kiss and the rest of the night shawns very flirty and cute

The climate of Los Angeles in December is hardly the climate you would usually associate with Christmas. There’s no snow, no ice and no windchill, and you’re not wearing a warm, cozy sweater; you’re wearing a thin, revealing blouse, instead.

Inside Niall’s Hollywood home, it does feel like Christmas, though. There are decorations all around the house, a large tree with twinkly fairy lights on in the big living room where most people are assembled now. Michael Bublé is playing over the speakers, an essential artist on any Christmas party playlist.

Although you’re pretty engaged in your current conversation, your eyes keep flickering over to Shawn, stood in the corner of the room while he speaks to some people you can’t really remember the names of.

Shawn is a friend, and that is truly all you can call him - not that you would mind calling him something more. You should be content with his friendship, but he’s too kind, too handsome and too endearing, and you’re crushing hard.

It’s probably the longest crush you’ve ever had as well. Normally, those things fade out quickly, but here you are, almost a year and a half after meeting Shawn, still crushing.

It only makes it worse when he catches you looking at him from across the room, amused glint in his eyes as they meet yours. Usually, you would be quick to look away and pretend like it never happened, but you’ve had one or two drinks by this point, and you’re feeling bold. Instead, you hold his gaze, offering a smile which he returns. Shawn raises his cup and points it toward the kitchen, and you catch his drift.

Both excusing yourselves from your conversations, you make your way to the kitchen and over to the punch bowl. Without a word, Shawn grabs the ladle and offers to refill your cup.

“Thank you,” you say, holding it out so he can pour the red liquid into it. “Nice party, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees and finishes refilling your cup. “Niall’s good with this kinda thing,” He winces a little as he says it, quickly giving an explanation. “Throwing parties, that is.” It’s easy to tell Shawn is a bit flustered, the blush on his cheeks a dead giveaway. It just makes him even more endearing - if that’s even possible.

You grin, placing your hand on his bicep. “I kinda figured,” His flush only deepens, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

He gulps and takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you came to the Rogers show. It meant a lot,”

“Well, I was home in Toronto anyway,” You’re trying to downplay it a bit, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t been more excited for that concert than any other concert in the entirety of your life.

It hadn’t let you down either. You’d seen him live before, but seeing him live in a stadium in his and yours hometown was special. It was most definitely a special night for him too, and him saying that it meant a lot that you came makes you feel a bit giddy inside.

You stand and talk in the kitchen for a while, and you're still very emboldened by the alcohol you've consumed. You're trying to flirt, but it doesn't seem to translate to Shawn who remains polite as ever - although you do catch him glancing at your cleavage from time to time.

Before you can even react to the giggles behind you, you hear Shawn sigh loudly. Turning around, you see a familiar face. Niall is holding something above you and Shawn, and when you look up, you realize what it is. A fucking mistletoe. You know very well what that entails.

“Niall, no,” Shawn protests, cheeks blazing red now. “That's not fair.”

“Oh, come on, Shawnie!” Niall urges, laughing. You know Niall well enough to know that he's at that stage where he's not quite drunk yet, but not only tipsy. “There are rules! You have to kiss!”

Shawn whines again. “We don't-”

“It's alright,” you say and turn to face him, not being able to help the smirk on your face. “I mean, we have to follow the rules, right?” His eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open. “But if you don't want to-”

“No, no, I do!” Both you and Niall laugh at his words. It doesn't escape your notice that you're gaining quite the audience, people trying to get a glimpse of what is about to transpire.

You reach up and cup one side of Shawn's face. “Just relax,” He gives you a nod and leans in, pressing his lips to your. He only lingers for a second, though, the crowd cheering wildly once he's withdrawn.

You're undeniably disappointed at the brevity of his kiss, but you know you have no right to be. If he even wants to really kiss you, you doubt he would do it in front of so many people.

“Way to go, lad!” Niall hoots, slapping Shawn on the arm. “Told ya I could make it happen, didn’t I?” And before you can ask Niall what he means by that, he’s off again, and you’re left with an embarrassed Shawn, nervously scratching the back of his neck. The crowd disperses again, most going back to the big living room.

Shawn appears to realize that you’re waiting for an explanation, and he grabs your hand, taking it in his own. He guides you from the kitchen and to the smaller, sunken living room at the other end of the room, and he leads you down the little set of stairs, glancing back to see if anyone has followed you here, but no one has. No one is in this room, either. To make sure you’re out of sight, you hide behind the wall.

“I’m sorry about the whole mistletoe thing,” Shawn begins, still holding your hand. You don’t even get to tell him not to apologize before he speaks again. “I may have told Niall that I…” You cross your arms, still waiting. “That I have a crush on you.”

You practically choke on your own spit. “What?”

Shawn blushes anew. “And Niall said he was gonna set us up. I guess that’s what he just did,” You’re speechless, eyebrows raised in surprise, and Shawn seems even more embarrassed now than before.

You don’t really know what to say, so you decide to let your lips do the talking. Stepping forward, you push them on his, and - although shocked at first, Shawn is quick to respond, pushing back. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and he nudges you backwards until your back is pressed against the wall.

You can taste the punch on Shawn’s lips, berries and vodka coming through strongly. His right hand holds the nape of your neck, the other hand flat on the wall beside your head. Your bodies are pinned together, not an inch between you. He’s kissing you with all his might, and you realize that this is exactly what you’ve been craving for so long.

Shawn moans into your mouth when your hands run into his curls, tugging slightly, and you instantly draw back at the sound, worried someone might hear even though it’s very unlikely.

You’re both panting, both absolutely breathless, and when you gaze into his eyes, you find yourself thinking that you don’t really care about the sounds. No one’s gonna hear, you tell yourself before you start pressing Shawn backwards.

“Sit down,” you giggle, pointing to one of the armchairs behind you. He rushes to it, plopping down, and you move to stand in front of him. “Seems like Niall’s good at setting people up too, eh?” Shawn only nods, grinning excitedly as you straddle him, the position a little uncomfortable for your legs due to the limited space.

It doesn’t matter, though. Especially not as Shawn takes your mouth with his own, fingers digging into your waist, holding onto you so tight that it’s like he never wants to let go. Your hands return to his hair again, and you’re messing it up, but you’re far beyond the point of caring. Your tongues are playing with each other, and neither of you can keep the moans from escaping.

But out of the blue, there’s an incredibly familiar sound from above - the sound of Niall’s laugh. And, sure enough, when you separate your lips and look up, Niall is there, upper half of his body leaning over the wall.

“Y’know,” he starts, smug grin on his face. “There are some spare rooms upstairs if you need one.” Shawn hides his face in your shoulder, laughing against you, and you can’t help laughing too.

“I think we’re alright, Niall,” you answer, smiling at him. “For now, at least.” Niall erupts into laughter again, but then he leaves the two of you to it. You know he’s going to go back and tell everyone what he saw, the alcohol clearly removing some of his inhibitions.

“He’s never gonna let us live that down, is he?” Shawn asks with a chuckle, leaning back, and you shake your head. When you take in his appearance, you feel a pull in your lower stomach, a recognizable heat spreading there. His hair is all messed up from your treatment, his skin a little flushed, and his lips are swollen. He looks a bit too good. Maybe we do actually need the room now, after all.

You brush some of his curls away from his forehead. “I bet he's feeling real proud of himself right now,”

Shawn grins. “I think he deserves to,” You mirror his expression, leaning down to press a kiss to his nose.

“Couldn't agree more,”

@sauveteen @flickershawn @peachnpomegranate @yellowitsmendes @me-a-hopeless-romantic @couple100miles @rishlo @shawn-mendes-thirst @fallininyou @bluerroses @nervousroses @shavvnmendcs @lou-and-me @cutieshawnmendess

#mine #text #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fluff

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paperclipninja · 5 years

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Younger post-ep ramble 6x05

If I wasn’t already excited about this episode, discovering that ‘Stiff Competition’ was written by Joe Murphy certainly would have got me there. Maybe it’s because he is a fellow Australian or maybe it’s because in every interview I’ve heard I find him utterly delightful and intelligent or maybe it’s because he is a damn great writer, but one thing is certain after this week’s episode of Younger: J. Murphy, I Stan (there was a time I might have been embarrassed about gushing so unabashedly but now I write weekly essays about fake people so I figure the shame level is zero at this point). This ep had the combination of playfulness, funny, flirty and drama that hooked me into this show in the first place and I feel like we got further insight into a number of characters, broadening our understanding of them and where they’re at. Plus kudos must be given for managing to use the title “Stiff Competition” and make the feature book “The Third Leg” in the same ep (one might even call it a riDICKulous feat…and no I’m not even a bit sorry).

A couple of weeks back I wrote about the Liza and Charles dynamic and how it really thrives on the build and resolution of tension. Up until last season it was the sexual tension and now that’s resolved there needed to be something to keep the fuel on the fire, so to speak. Cue the opening scene of this ep, with the competitive fuel well and truly lit and honestly, this whole scene just rocks my world. We had the drama building the past few eps with Charles being secretive and while that would’ve resulted in the destruction of the relationship had it been left unresolved, it has been used to transition into this next type of competitive cat-and-mouse style tension that the characters are embracing (at the start anyway) and using to their benefit and, let’s be honest, we all benefit because it. is. HOT.

Walking into the National Arts Club party very quickly establishes Charles as well versed at such an event and I am so into the immediate retort from Liza that feisty isn’t the ‘f’ word she would choose to describe Charles setting up Mercury. That does of course come after Charles introduces her to Michael Cunningham as his girlfriend which is just so bizarre to hear but also YES. Their banter, the competiveness in the art of the schmooze, bringing her A game; the whole thing set them on such equal footing and seeing them as ass-slapping sparring partners was something I never knew I needed and could have watched an entire episode of with its feature film feel (Kickstarter for a spin-off series of nerdy espionage-style escapades but about books and authors and literary events…and maybe the odd murder to keep it interesting).

While Liza was certainly showing that she can work a room, Charles’ reputation and professionalism was on fine display as authors greeted him warmly and Liza’s introduction of him to Meg Wolitzer as her boyfriend (seriously I’m living for these gf/bf drops) just got more and more awks as Meg and Charles clearly knew each other, Liza snatched his business card from his hand and then asked the photographer to identify him as her ‘guest’ in the pic (loved Sutton’s delivery of this and extra loved Meg’s ‘just pretend you’re talking to me’ to the rando so she could get away from the slightly unhinged antics of the editor she just met). Yet Charles is loving every minute of it and I so appreciate that now the whole Mercury situation is no longer a secret Charles is talking openly about it with Liza, evidenced by his telling her he received a message from Zane (about Mercury being highbrow/brilliant nonetheless).

Where there is highbrow there must be lowbrow (old tv proverb) and unfortunately for Kelsey, the head without a neck aka ‘a floating tragedy’, she has taken prime position in that quadrant of New York Mag’s approval matrix (can we take a moment to appreciate Liza’s ‘well it is a good picture of him’ remark re: Charles? Way to make your friend feel better but also lol and accurate). While I sympathise with how stressful it must be to lose authors, this ep once again highlights that our pal Kels is in quite the spiral. Luckily Liza has managed to pull in Chip and Joanna Gaines, I mean Hayley and Cameron Butler, who are promoting their cringe-worthy new book, ‘The Third Leg’, off the back of their New York Flip success. I heart the way this show parodies real people so hard.

I have said it week after week, but Diana has been such a scene stealer this season (Diana Trout proudly pointing out Shiplap, I don’t know why but this just made me grin). The writers keep bringing it with the lines and Miriam Shor’s delivery somehow magically seems to get funnier and funnier and her heart eyed gaze as she recounts her and Enzo’s third leg(s) (like a centipede…but also nothing like a centipede, speaking of A+ lines and delivery) was no exception. The whole pitch meeting was a bit of a train wreck, with Kelsey’s bitterness about the hot or not list spilling in, Liza’s attempt at diverting resulting in Diana railroading the entire thing and Liza wondering if she and Charles are in fact lacking the third leg (Empiriconda notwithstanding) that two home reno celebs have deemed a necessary factor in a successful r/ship (though theirs hardly seems the picture of happiness unless #relationshipgoals is taking jabs at each other through strained grins).

One relationship I am digging on every level is Josh and Lauren’s and this week’s ep gave us a mighty fine dose. Of course Lauren set up a GemmaLoves Insta and I’m 100% willing to overlook the slight ickiness of her pushing a SM account for the baby without asking Josh because it’s Lauren and she is sublime and also without it we would not have had THE film-worthy (minus the butt plugs) montage. I freaking adore that Lauren is so unapologetic about promoting stuff and getting freebies and Josh’s stance on not letting his daughter be a pusher for consumerism lasts approx. 25 seconds as Lauren points out all of Gemma’s favourite things that she will happily take back (Josh’s ‘but she loves it’ was just too good). Lauren’s declaration that both Josh and Gemma are gonna get free swag ‘and ya both gonna love it’ (the Eleanor Shellstrop vibe is strong and I approve) leads us into the shopping montage that made me want to dance around my lounge room and could sit comfortably in any rom-com from the late 90’s/early 2000’s. From ‘Baby Love’ to Josh and Lauren feeding each other cupcakes to that glorious moment of Josh parading back and forth on the pavement like a chorus boy, I bow down to Younger pulling rabbits like this out of the creative hat six seasons in, it was just such damn fun.

You know what else I adore? That throughout the series we have seen so many different aspects of Diana’s character and we just keep seeing more and more layers peeled back through her relationship with Enzo. I am so enjoying the side of her we see being open about her feelings for him when she’s around others, then the way she is with him; proud of their relationship then honest about her disappointment that they have to cancel dinner, rather than shutting down and pretending she doesn’t care. Enzo offering to buy Diana any necklace she chooses made my cold dead heart swell with the sincerity and sweetness of it all, but Diana revealing that she does not choose her necklaces, they choose her = the revelation I didn’t know I’ve been waiting six seasons to hear. Not to be dramatic but it felt like coming home.

Side note: I’m finding the parallels between the Diana/Enzo and Liza/Charles relationships really interesting. I don’t know whether it’s deliberate or not but these two couples navigating relationships in their 40’s, trying to strike a balance between career ambition and their personal relationships, I am beyond desperate for Diana to know about Liza’s age and for these two to talk about it all tbh.

Speaking of balancing career and relationship, can we please talk about the dinner date because sweet lawd, my heart was already full from the Diana/Enzo goodness, but then along came Liza and Charles with this whole out together with the authors situation and quite frankly, I’m surprised I survived. Bringing together the book and the earlier meeting was just so well done and the moment Hayley dropped the ‘and you’ and we discover that Charles had indeed gushed about Liza and their shared love of books as their third leg (still sounds weird and gross but totally worth it for the sentiment and post-dinner tie in), I too was staring at my screen the way Liza looked at Charles, but I was also a little bit deceased because I am romantic trash and him casually rubbing her back almost did me in.

I feel like each ep is adding another dimension to Charles this season and seeing him relaxed and candid outside the restaurant was certainly another insight into this character. The entire interaction between him and Liza was effortless and I love that it went from Liza ribbing him about using their relationship to secure the book to Charles being so frank about where it’s all at and how he’s feeling (and does anyone else hope a little bit that Charles does end up needing that room in Liza’s bed coz I am very on board with the idea of C. Brooks living in that loft for a while for many reasons). Bring on lusty Charles and I kid you not I let out a little scream of delight at Liza noting his excitement and then heading straight for the cab (yes Charles, she is just going to leave you like this). Thank you Joe Murphy for the ep and the book title combo so Liza could remind Charles competition is stiff out there while glancing at his crotch and telling him to take care of the third leg himself, you truly are doing God’s work. And I’m just all ‘round loving seeing these two adults in a relationship being flirty and lustful and open with one another.

I have to put it out there that Liza’s hustle game is so damn strong this whole ep and as she is questioned by Kelsey and Diana about how Charles is getting all these authors, I a) am very glad she does not blab, b) find it interesting that Kelsey assumes that Liza mustn’t know if she hasn’t told her and c) wonder why Liza is the only one who seems to understand that other publishing houses will be vying for books and that Millennial will lose some fair and square. But Liza once again has another potential author lined up in the musical prodigy turned conductor Gloria Rivera, but this is Younger, we’ve had lots of fun, flirty and funny, so it must be time for the drah-mah.

The moment Liza ran into Charles at the concert I think we all knew the competition might have just about run its course, and I had legit second-hand embarrassment as Liza so confidently gloated she had been in touch with Gloria ‘for months’ in response to Charles’ knowing her ‘quite well’, though Charles clearly wanted to explain further as he said he wanted to talk after the show before the lights go down and Liza needs to get to her seat. Insert appropriate amount of unimpressed for both Kelsey and Diana and it all goes south pretty quickly once Diana discovers that Gloria was the recipient of the Brooks family Arts Scholarship so knowing Charles ‘pretty well’ is a bit of an understatement.

Now I get that it must feel like a series of blows and I also get that we need a way for Kelsey and Diana to be at the axe throwing bar so that whole scene can play out, but for them to both bail on Liza and not even try to convince Gloria to sign with Millennial, I mean, you’re not going to get any authors with that attitude ladies. At this point Liza should just bail and start her own damn company, give it a great name starting with ‘M’, maybe Majesty? Mendacity? Or Mitosis and she can just expand quickly and open identical offices all over the place? Either way, Liza had no time for Charles’ girlfriend game post-show (and it is clear here that to Charles it is still just a game and he hasn’t quite clocked that to Liza this is her career being compromised).

While I think Diana and Kelsey leaving Liza to make a last ditch pitch to Gloria solo was a low blow, seeing them together, rage throwing axes while drunk (I both love and am terrified of the idea of people drinking and axe throwing in one place FYI) was pretty damn great. These two are always so messy together and Diana taking off her earrings and prepping only to have such a terrible axe throw was only surpassed by her saying that she tells people Enzo is a surgeon which is why he’s on call and Kelsey offering up that they both wear gloves. LOL. And Diana Trout peeing beside a dumpster is one thing I never thought I’d see on this show, yet here we are and her ‘I don’t know her’ and running away from the cop when Kelsey produces the axe was ridiculous and excellent and a great excuse for some chin-skin holding mugshots.

My one gripe at the mo is the ongoing distrust Kelsey has of Liza, first at the axe bar asking Diana if she thinks Liza is helping Charles land these authors and then when Liza turns up after Enzo has bailed them (can we just pause a moment to appreciate the ongoing mafia jokes since their first date and also Enzo calling Diana a jailbird and her smitten reaction. I heart it all). Seriously, this is just yawn at this point and while I get that Kelsey is scared (and thank you Liza for pointing out that she’s not the only one) surely Liza is over having to prove time and time again how loyal she is only to have Kelsey continue to question it? I know I am. Again, Liza – ‘Mitosis’. Think about it.

Our Maggie moment this ep is of course just prior to the déjà vu of Liza and Josh chilling on the couch with Gemma, a little throw-back to the cacao-induced dream from last season’s finale. But I gotta say, my heart hurt for Charles when he walked into that awkward af loft situation, because while I have no doubt that Liza is solid in her feelings for Charles, seeing your girlfriend in a super domestic looking moment with her ex has to feel like a kick in the guts. I want to bottle the look Liza gave Josh when he said ‘you two seem good’ because if I could whip that out on demand, it would be mighty useful.

The final moments of this week’s ep certainly heightened the drama all round. I feel like this episode really highlighted the insecurity of both Kelsey and Charles, which puts Liza in the interesting position of having to navigate this with two people she loves but also put her foot down for her own sake at some stage. Liza immediately quashes any concerns Charles may have about being in competition with Josh and uses the baby’s inability to talk ergo. steal authors as a way to broach the ongoing company rivalry. As Charles reveals that Gloria will be signing with Millennial, it is evident it is all still a bit of a game to him (though him saying that all he cares about is that he doesn’t lose her, ugh *heart emoji*) until his true take on it all is revealed, that he sees it all as shared victories rather than rivalry. Eeek, I tell you, I get and appreciate the dick theme of this episode but I struggle with the dick line ‘when you get to the bottom line, it’s still all me’ so much. I had an actual physical reaction to how awful this was and it certainly was not something I imagined this character saying. Yet I do think it also gives credence to the type of man Pauline said she was married to.

It felt insecure, like he was trying to talk himself up in some kind of misguided attempt to sound impressive, but it also was a glimpse of the man whose ambition contributed to the demise of his marriage. Pauline herself said that when they got married she thought they would be a team but right away it was all about Charles and she was there just to be his rock (S5E3). The difference now of course is that unlike Pauline, Liza has called him out on it and in the final second, the expression on Charles’ face (it’s gutted for those playing at home) is hopefully one of realisation that he is repeating behaviours of the past and that moving forward, we see that realisation play out and this character develop.

I have no idea how the rest of this season is going to play out but you know what all this drama and intrigue pave the way for? Growth. Liza’s growth as she becomes more sure of herself and her right to decide and demand what she wants and deserves, who she wants, what she will and won’t stand for, Charles to learn from past mistakes and work to redeem those and think about the kind of man and partner he wants to be, no character’s growth has been as glorious to see unfold up until now as Diana’s and I’m sure this will continue and Kelsey...well I’m sure hers will come. We’re almost halfway people and season six is proving to be quite the ride.

#youngertv #younger tv #ramble #review #6x02 #liza miller #charles brooks #kelsey peters #diana trout #liza x charles #diana x enzo #team charles #younger season 6

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