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oh-saints · 1 year

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bestie do we still get kt x singer reader?!🥲i need it after the anti-kt disappointment

for you, fellow KT bestie (does it rhyme???) who's been deprived of our lovely viking for far too long, i'd give it to youuu

change

being a female singer-songwriter in a very saturated industry, you work hard to get where you are now. but kieran works harder until he can call you his.

kieran tierney x singer!reader

word count: 2.0k

note: i gotta be honest... i tried so hard not to entertain this ask because my request's closed and i have so many left i haven't worked on yet, but an idea popped in my mind that i had to write it down. and in the light of us fellow KT girlies not being granted his appearance by mikel, which coincided with my bday week this time around, here it is! but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so not beta-read yet.

the song included in this work is this.

“A record I must say,” Lauren, your agent, walked into your studio alongside your publicist with a cup of tea—dajeerling and brewing hot, no less, just the way you like it. “A birdie told me you haven’t pulled out all-nighter lately and chose to clock in early instead.”

“Morning to you, too, Lauren,” You pushed back your chair, straying away your eyes from the lined-up monitors on your work station. “Now, what’s wrong in being early?”

“As far as I can recall, you love your bed so much that you always try to spend your time there until it’s really time to go,” Lauren put your cup and your smoked-beef sandwich on the table standing in the middle of the room. “Am I right?”

You could only laugh at your agent’s long-standing experience of the countless times she had to drag you out of your bed so you could make it in time for radio promotions. She even went as far as preventing you from touching the bed when you were due for a red carpet, afraid you’d pass out and she had to extort physical means to get you wake up.

In your defence, you couldn’t help it. Inspirations come to you at unexpected times, and mostly they keep you up during the time when everybody’s asleep because you can’t not make something out of it while it lasts. They are what keep you afloat in this make-it-or-break-it industry, the root of your endless hits after hits, and precisely why your agent—although groaning while doing so—would still shake the sleep from your entire being relentlessly.

However, you couldn’t deny your agent’s astute observation that you had, indeed, been gracing your studio in normal time zone. Something that wasn’t exactly unheard of but definitely something that was missing from a gazillion years ago.

In fact, deep down, you actually surrendered yourself to the fact attack launched by Lauren because you were changing, for good. No longer were the days of grabbing instant meal kits, nights of recording and takeouts. And you have every reason to.

While the smoke of brewing hot tea was usually something you look forward to get your body and soul intact for the rest of the day, lately there had been another angelic sight freely occupying the other side of your bed—a sight you look forward to see the first thing in the morning, as soon as you open your eyes to the bright, blinding sun. Yet, you could swear the sight was even mesmerising than the sun itself.

The calm personified in Kieran Tierney when he was sleeping was something else. Eyes shut perfectly in a dome shape and eyelashes tickling his prominent cheekbones—it was a scenery you would definitely choose over the leather four walls of your studio.

Kieran when awake was already bedazzling as it is, but when you take away all the determination and worries, he simply looks like an innocent child sleeping, with those thin lips left agape and soft snores coming out in tune melodically with the chirping bird outside.

For that particular private viewing alone, if it meant you had to do patchworks to your usual unusual routine, you would gladly do it in a heartbeat. You’d enjoy the bonus of 5 extra minute to run the pads of your fingers along the lines of his facial structure, grazing inch and every bit of the strong features you’ve come to love the past months, tracing every crook and nook until nothing else left untouched.

You like to touch the end of his hairline and the beginning of his skin, creasing out the contracted muscle at your initial touch, down to his thick brows, the long eyelashes, protruding cheek bones and jaw lines, the apple chin… and your favourite of them all; the thin but healthily pink lips that always pouts in default but would turn into a megawatt smile whenever around you. It’d become your favourite ever since you noticed that particular perk only you had the privilege to own.

Your hands would draw back to the tip of his pointy nose, a feature he inherited from his patrilineal genetics, and he would scrunch the muzzle softly as if he was about to sniff before gaining consciousness slowly but surely. You’d come to realise it was marked by his 3-times blink before he groaned a sleepy, groggy good morning as he took in his surroundings.

And you’d laugh when he attempted to pull you into another tight cuddle, prolonging your lazing time on the bed by leaving pecks on the crown of your head, as if he didn’t have somewhere to go every morning without fail.

As much as you’d come to terms with the fact that you know now your way of dying—should you be able to choose—is to be engulfed in Kieran’s arms, basked in his signature mixture of natural odour and his favourite perfume, until you run out of breaths, Kieran’s athletic routine was the reason why you had to get up the same time as your boyfriend.

Because who could fall asleep again when you got to gawk on your shirtless boyfriend walking around your bedroom like he owned the place?

Certainly not you, not when the adrenaline was too high on certain times and all you had to focus was not to tackle your boyfriend in the bathroom so that you could have sex. He has a job to keep, and you have fans waiting for your next creation. So you channelled your overflowing energy into coming into the studio early—it wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, really, if you exposed yourself that your next album would be solely inspired by your “burly yet soft like a teddy bear” lover.

If 5 years ago someone said to you that you’d undergo all these drastic changes, you’d laugh at their face. Your old self wouldn’t have approved of your decision on letting Kieran in to your life so fast in the first place.

Old you, who didn’t think of anything else but your budding career.

Old you, who was so afraid to lose whatever you had because of a stupid move, like your fellow musicians went wrong.

Old you, who thought you had too much at stake to think of something outside the music and your fans.

Old you, who learnt from your last ex-boyfriend that you had to fight your way up on your own.

“How’s the album going?” Lauren started off again, now her notes and iPad sprawled all over the table, and you took the hint to get serious. “Is there any samples we can hear of?”

“I do—”

And that was when you realise your phone—your other phone, to be exact; the one you bought for its music features so you could rest assured to keep your creative outlet as positive as possible—was nowhere to be found. Your morning commute only includes the likes of your house or Kieran’s house and work lately, so you’ve got no choice but to call your boyfriend.

“What’s up, babe?”

Kieran had made it a habit of his to rotate any pet name he could probably think of to call you. On any other circumstances, you would usually curl your fingers when someone called you by a sweet moniker of their choice—heck, your last ex fling even complained about your disdain to them. But rather than disgust this time, it was more at the weird sensation vibrating through your entire body that you found yourself rather liking them.

In fact, you had to give Kieran a big kudos for making the transition in their relationship relatively natural. While a lot of things escalated very quickly in your respective lives, it somehow felt like it just fell into their deserving place instead.

Kieran really meant it when he vowed he would prove her fears wrong, exactly the night when you decided to let him into your life.

“I left my other phone at home, can you bring them to my studio?”

“Sure thing, love,” And Lauren had to hold back her squeals when she noticed your blushing cheeks. “See you in a bit.”

Turned out, it wasn’t merely a bit to the Scotsman. How could he not be stunned when you pulled the rug from under his feet?

He was only supposed to call your other phone in order for him to bring the device to you, but as soon as he heard intently and closely to the caller ring you’ve put for him, he was rendered speechless.

The very reason why your relationship with Kieran took off on a very long slow burn into what they were now was because you were initially very averse at the idea of romantically involved with anyone. Not after what your ex had done to you, and Kieran went into diving fully realising and acknowledging the part. He’d come to embrace your flaws and your imperfections, no matter how much you hate them, because it’s what made you… you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Including your lack of verbal affection.

The irony, Kieran would laugh at the revelation, but it didn’t matter in his opinion because it didn’t particularly equal to not meaning you love for him. You crumbling down the longstanding Berlin Wall between them was enough of a proof that you felt the same way as him.

He had before long accepted the idea that you were not fond of grandiose gestures from your significant other, nor did you like doing so to your partner. You belonged rather to the kind of people who liked spending time closely with their respective partner, be it candle-lit dinner in the iconic Aviary or be on the phone call with him for hours when he was on an away match–didn’t matter for you, really.

You preferred to express her affection into a set of discreet actions; you could be found constantly holding his hand whenever you had the chance, playing with his hair, juggling between touching the side of his face and feeling the growing stubbles on his jaw.

When he was on an away game, you would send an Uber Eats for him and whoever his roommate at that time, a little supportive note from you would be slipped in the packaging with a help of the deliveryman. Now, being Kieran’s roommate was a spot worth fighting for amongst his teammates. And recently, you let Kieran stay over in your flat every now and then.

The action spoke more than volume, per Kieran’s standard of your love for him. It might not be much, but for Kieran, it meant no more walls, no more hesitation.

So when his ears picked up the lyrics of the caller ring, Kieran was left breathless. It was a crude song, not yet mastered, so he knew it was something she only recently produced, but it was what made the effect booming throughout his body became 10 times shuddering.

I remember like it was yesterday

First kiss and I knew you changed the game

You have me, exactly, well you want it,

And I'm on it

And I ain't ever gonna let you get away

Holdin' hands never made me feel this way

So special, boy it's your, it's your smile

We so in love

You had never been fluent in articulating her feeling into words of either written or spoken form, at least to Kieran’s face, but this song–it pretty much contained every description of what you felt towards him, practically a song to profess your love to him in a very discreet way.

You are my baby love, my baby love

You make the sun come up (Oh boy, oh boy)

You're my every, everything that I could ever dream of

You are my baby love, my baby love

You make the sun come up (Oh boy, oh boy)

You're my every, every, every, everything

Been a minute and we still holding it down

Butterflies every time you come around

You make me, so crazy

It's crazy, oh baby

And I don't ever wanna be with no one else

You're the only one that ever made me melt

You're special, boy it's your, your style

We so in love

Kieran’s heart was galloping so fast it could outmatch any stallion in their prime. He could actually feel the depths of your unspoken love and affection towards him from the song, from your voice alone, despite the still-lacking quality of the product. But god damn…

If this was the aftereffect of being serenaded by you, in all of your glorious words about how you feel towards him, Kieran didn’t think he could survive another, should you make another song for him.

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anincompletelist · 6 months

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weekend wip game! :D

thank you thank you @daisymae-12 for the tag, I SO enjoyed reading through your current projects (and everyone else's that have been floating around!) I have so many of my own that I scream about privately but I suppose I can do it publicly as well with the right persuasion (this. definitely this.) anyway -

PLEASE feel free to do this and tag me if you haven't already. I LOVE reading about yall's current projects! <3 (also much love to @welcometololaland for creating this fun game!)

I hope you're all doing well! :D

-- anincompletelist/sarah

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more). (questions for artists/gifmakers here).

1. WIP List:

[hitman alex / prince henry au]

poetry fic (literally SO much poetry this is my Baby) [computer science major alex/english major + poet henry]

coworkers/fake dating au (part of firstprince first kisses)

[journalist+escort alex/prince henry]

boxer alex au / snippet here

truman show au [henry as truman/alex as lauren] !!! partially in script format

dog walker alex au (feat. DAVID!)

abdication au [lawyer alex] LOTS of family drama/henry angst and most of it takes place on a TRAIN which for some reason to me makes it so much more intriguing

drunk dial au [based on 'dial drunk' by noah kahan - canon divergent - years after the worst breakup of either of their lives, alex manages to get himself arrested during a trip to london and the only person he can think to call is henry, his ex. (things work out, of course. I am incapable of writing unhappy endings)]

bridesmaids au (june is getting married, brother alex and best friend henry are her (rival) ‘best men’/bridesmen who are always trying to compete to give her the best wedding possible)

lots of other little drabbles and oneshots -- honestly this list grows every day but these are the main ones!!

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

poetry fic!

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

poetry for sure, but truman fic is a close second!

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

it definitely changes day-to-day, even though it stresses me out to have a lot of projects going at once (skjhdjhs) I enjoy being able to switch around between them and write whatever I'm in the mood for!

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

probably truman au. I have big plans for it and I've fleshed out the characters really well and I feel like the trope is PERFECT for alex&henry and it (to my knowledge) hasn't been done before so! I want to do them justice. also it's surpassingly fun to write scenes in script format!!!

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

all of them, to a degree (the universal Creative Experience). but I think poetry fic? it deals with some heavier themes and the characters are so special to me (it also deals with a lot of my own personal struggles and features some of my own poetry) so I worry about it being perceived well or being relatable to other people.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I'm not sure if I will! when I wrote in other fandoms I had a lovely friend that would look them over for me and we'd talk about them, but they don't write for this fandom and I overthink SO much that if someone gives me criticism I may just scrap the entire scene sjkhkjhd. I kind of just post and hope for the best!

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

on a steady rotation :D perks of having so many wips that I can just switch it up when I get stuck!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

I'm fully aware I sound like a broken record but definitely poetry fic. i can’t say too much without giving away some of the plot but he’s an older man who can relate to henry in a lot of ways and kind of becomes a part of their story <3 he’s only in a couple of scenes but they’re so important to the story!

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

hitman alex for SURE, but journalist/escort is definitely a close second.

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

oh gosh, it's between hitman / abdication / poetry / boxer / and truman ?? but honestly I can't write anything without a little angst, so! I feel like there's so many elements to their dynamic that are just perfect for it (with mandatory happy ending of course)!

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

most accurate? probably poetry fic. most fun to write? hitman.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

POETRY!!! it's literally the personification of autumn and warm blankets and falling leaves and old books and alex's cinnamon coffee (of course) and Henry runs a poetry club and they're both so soft and ugh it's just the best ever and I wish I could live in it. (in my own humble opinion).

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

as far as research goes, definitely poetry.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

I'm not really sure. I wrote in another fandom that I always felt like everything I posted had to cater to who was going to read it and it's been extremely liberating to write for RWRB and just post what *I* like or would want to read. I don't really care about hits, but my biggest hope with anything I post is always that it makes someone else feel seen/heard/validated or brightens their day/night a little, the way that so many other fics/art have for me. <3

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

YES. I have the angstiest dreams and anytime I hurt my own feelings I wake up and write it down immediately. (ESPECIALLY with hitman and journalist recently).

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

truman au for sure. it's written in alex's pov and we only see henry through script format for the first half. I'm really excited about it, I've never written anything like it before and I think it adds such a cool element to the story (if I can figure out how to format it correctly on ao3 jhskdhj - we'll cross that bridge when we get there I suppose).

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

coworkers and dogwalker I would consider to be 'funny' fics -- lots of banter and joking with each other and general lightheartedness!

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

not currently, but I LOVED writing June's character in this fic because I have a chronic illness myself and I liked getting to explore it from an outside perspective! I also would love to explore a bit more with henry's dad and their storyline at some point as well.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

here, have THREE!

henry's poetry club in poetry fic is called 'speak easy' and is held in an old speakeasy lounge

in the hitman fic, alex goes by the codename Ander in public

abdication au is inspired by a five minute scene in a james bond film that takes place on a train and just spun out from there kjshdjhs

YAY that was so much fun, thank you again for tagging me @daisymae-12 , had a super bad chronic illness day the last several days so this has been such a fun and much welcome distraction.

I don't have a lot of people that I know of that haven't done this, but off the top of my head -- @inexplicablymine (I know you shared wips but I'd love to hear more detail if you're interested in sharing!) @onward--upward @firstprincewrites @magicandarchery @sparklepocalypse and anyone else who comes across this post!

again, there's NO pressure at ALL but I would love to hear what y'all are working on and just what you're up to in general!

I hope all of you guys are doing well, I'm so ridiculously grateful for all of the work you guys put out and the difference that you make. have a wonderful weekend and take care! :D

#my fic #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #tagged

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danielleitloudernow · 5 months

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This came up on my FYP feed and I thought it would be super fun to do in honor of NaNoWriMo.

20 Questions

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 30: 2 series, 5 WIPs, and a whole bunch of one shots 😁

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

134,500. Not sure how I hit an even number, but that's fun!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Korrasami (The Legend of Korra) and JEmily (Criminal Minds), but I have written for WarriorBard (Xena Warrior Princess), Ramvers (Captain Marvel), and Pricefield (Life is Strange). I'm working on originals, too, but that's neither here nor there.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fuck Was I

The Consequences of Jello

Profiles and Princesses

Measure the Coefficient of Static Friction Between Us

The Violets in the Mountains Have Broken Rocks

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always. I always respond to comments. It's so fun interacting with readers, and often, other writers. I've made a few friends from it and it's been so great. I have been known to drop off the face of the earth so I don't answer for a long ass time, but j always answer. Plus, I think it's a great way to show appreciation for those taking the time to interact. I love those emails telling me a fic has a comment. I poured so much of myself and my time into something and someone took the time to say something about it! It's pure magic.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think my fics are all HEAs, honestly. But there's a healthy dosing of angst throughout a lot of them.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably any of them, but Fuck Was I if I had to choose.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did and I have. A fellow writer once called it "flaming troll shit" and since I changed my perspective to see it that way, I A) am considerably less bothered, and B) haven't really noticed it since.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do write smut. I write the type of smut I want to read and it's always evolving. I don't really do like, BDSM (love to read it, don't have much urge to write it, though), but I'll throw in some kink once in a while. Really, I guess I just like to write real sex. The emotions, the connection, the want.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Honestly, no. It's never really been something on my radar. It feels like a lot to keep track of or to meld and that's just a lot. Kudos to those who can and do, though.

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

I really hope not. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but plagiarism is illegal, kids.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I have a beta reader (shout out to ireallyshouldnt_behere) who tells me if I'm an idiot or gives me suggestions, but we haven't moved into the realm of actual co-author (yet). We have joked about it before, and I would love to try a co-writing fic with someone.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Honest to God, JEmily. I had this theory when Criminal Minds first started back in the day that Emily and JJ got a little too drunk one night and clothes came off, that it turned into a thing. And then Will came along and Emily had to go and break her own damn heart because she didn't think she was good enough or JJ would be in danger being with her. Which is funny, given the Lauren arc, but I digress. But also, Xena and Gabrielle, always, because I grew up on XWP and those two were so obviously in love.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A novel I started writing 12 years ago 🤣 I love the concept and the characters and what I want to do with it, where I expect it to go. But holy fuck, it's been tedious. I have like...40k words of just bullshit that's not even really connected.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Emotions. Sometimes tension. Angst. Smut.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. And moving from point A to point B. Sometimes grammar (and that annoys me most of all).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it, but let's be honest, it's Google translated because I'm American and for some reason we think English is the only language...

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Legend of Korra. I had read something that just made my head hurt and I thought "I can write better than that!" Spoiler alert, that's a really shitty reason to write something and no, you can't always 'write something better.' Plus, everyone is different: voice, styles, confidence, all that. Anyway, I cranked out a random idea (Living on a Spare) I thought was funny, and here we are.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Oh, why do you make me choose? That's a really good question. I think Chaos Theory (at least at the moment). I just found a bunch of bad pick-up lines and turned them into something ridiculous.

Just for funsies, I'mma tag @thewillowtree3 @blackbird-brewster @cargopantsprentiss @ahhhsami and hope you guys do it but really it's up to you! Cheers, yo!

#ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #writing #writer #fanfic #fanfic writer #fanfic writing #nanowrimo #for fun #wlw fanfic #wlw love #wlw #lesbian #lgbtqia

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sdktrs12 · 3 years

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I only just noticed these divine loooong sentences in Halloween ficlets and I dig it!! Also absolutely loved the last chapter (Candle)! 👌

Oh, you mean my massive run on sentences, littered with unnecessary commas instead of proper punctuation?

Yeah, those are my babies.

Thank you so much, I always have a lot of fun writing some outlandish nonsensical smut just for ya'll, your reactions are by far my fav part of these prompts. 💕

#Asks #Writing #Hauntober Prompts #Fanfiction #Honestly #All of my writing is just one massive run on sentence #It's why Lauren loves being my beta so much #It's the most exciting part of her day

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messwriting · 3 years

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol).

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn.

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor.

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.”

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight.

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number. “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves.

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation.

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.”

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss.

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping.

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee.

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.”

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.”

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?”

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question.

“What do you mean?”

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?”

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you… And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side.

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional.

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression.

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

“I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess.

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent.

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin.

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.”

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides.

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue.

“I think I may need a little…” Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks.

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback.

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry.

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.”

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start.

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips.

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest.

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment.

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself.

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants.

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table.

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud. There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already.

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh.

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him.

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee.

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil.

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers.

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching.

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins.

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan.

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk.

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his.

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.”

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it.

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this.

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt.

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning.

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you.

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something.

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going.

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you.

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting.

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know.

He’s not stopping. Until he does.

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin.

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.”

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin.

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound.

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it.

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt. “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm.

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat.

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.”

This.

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire.

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are.

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.”

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.”

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip.

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure.

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that.

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that.

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure.

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence.

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.”

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding. Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes.

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core.

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever.

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit.

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking.

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes.

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect.

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it.

You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat.

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it.

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had.

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?”

#osamu miya smut #osamu miya #osamu miya hq #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #thesmutpilecollab #hq fanfic #osamu miya x reader

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botheredbuck · 3 years

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it demands to be felt (ao3)

The thing is, Callum’s- well, he’s Callum. The bloke from the bookshop that’s tucked down just away from Albert Square, that you’d only really see if you were looking for it. The man that’s hidden behind a door that was once bright blue, but that’s now faded and chipped with time and the shitty British weather. The clumsy, friendly guy behind the counter with little to say for himself and little to be remembered for. He’s just him, and he’d found some way to be content in that, a quiet little life with nothing much to speak for.

Whereas Ben- in the same way Callum’s just Callum, Ben is Ben Mitchell, the man who’s been in near enough every movie that Callum’s seen showing at the cinema in the city for the past year. He’s something else, something so much bigger than Callum could ever really comprehend.

They don’t work (they shouldn’t work) and they’re nothing alike (maybe they’ve got more in common than Callum ever thought)-

-but maybe that’s why they do.

hi hi, and welcome to my big bang fic!! honestly, this fic has been the love of my life and the bane of my existence, somehow at the same time. i think this may well be the longest thing i've ever written wow. it's definitely been a challenge and i definitely almost gave up on it but i'm so proud that i finished it in the end, and i'm so proud of what i have now to share with yall. notting hill is one of my favourite movies of all time, so it just felt right for me to do it for my first ever big bang. i just have a couple thank yous to make!

firstly, to @yasisworld and everyone else from @ballumbb2021 for being amazing and making this happen - i cannot imagine organising us rabble into anything like this, i am forever in awe of you.

secondly to lauren (@leximitchells) for creating what i'm sure is going to be some absolutely stunning art for this fic - i haven't actually seen it yet as im writing this, but i absolutely cannot wait!

thirdly to jaz (@where-wolf-there-wolf)for being n amazing beta and correcting my absolutely abysmal typing skills - you are genuinely wonderful!!

so yeah! i'll shut up now, but im so excited and terrified to post this, but i really hope you enjoy reading it. make sure to check out lauren’s blog for the art, and @ballumbb2021 for all the rest of the wonderful works from this year.

#ballum big bang 2021 #ballum #eastenders #ben x callum #ben mitchell #callum highway #ballum fic #ao3 writer #ao3 stuff #ao3 update #ee #eastenders fic

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hazel-light · 3 years

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Chapter Word Count: ~7,500

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn't mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: Okay okay here it is— the wedding fic I’ve been writing for literally six and a half months! I'm nervous and excited... this is the first fic I've written and posted in maybe 8? years. I asked you, and guys said you preferred chapters, so that's how I'll be posting. This first chapter is mostly exposition and fluff, the good stuff is coming I promise! I will be posting a part every day since the whole thing is already written. If you would like to be tagged, let me know. I would like to thank Rowena @heyrowena for being such a good friend and motivating me to be brave and get back into writing. Without you, this probably wouldn’t exist. Your motivation whenever I hit a roadblock or plot crisis was fundamental in helping the ending come together. I would also like to thank Tori @cavillsharman who spent countless hours talking out plots with me. Henry & Claire would not exist if it wasn’t for you! Thank you for bringing them to life with me. Thank you BOTH for helping me figure out how the heck to write kissing and ~romantic scenes. I think I hopefully found my way in the end. TLDR; Thank you Rowena and Tori, thanks for believing in me and helping this fic become a reality. ALSO! Thank you to my bestie Becka @kirklandhouse for giving all 100 pages of this a final proof/beta read with me to make it as smooth and shiny as possible. I love you! Okay. No more notes. I hope you enjoy it. Bye <3

—-

I sit in Daniel’s apartment, watching some new indie movie on Netflix. When he’s in town, we dedicate Wednesday nights to watching Netflix and playing some kind of card game together. It started originally as a group thing with board games, but eventually our friends' schedules fell apart, leaving it to just us most of the time.

My phone lights up and starts playing the typical FaceTime music, and I look down to see my cousin Ryan calling me; I decline the call. Daniel looks at me over his cards, knowingly.

“Is that your cousin? We can pause it,” he nods towards the TV.

Ryan and I are a good decade apart in age but really close. When I had to move across the country for work, I was heartbroken. Ryan was like the little brother I never had, and I’d lived with him, his mom — my Auntie Kim — and his sister Rachel nearly my whole life. I was worried the distance would change things between the two of us. Thankfully, it hadn’t.

I shake my head, watching the “missed call” light up on my lockscreen.

“No, it’s fine… I can call him later. He’s calling about his sister’s wedding.”

“Oh right, Rachel’s getting married this summer.”

I smile that he remembers, granted it would be hard not to. I have a tendency to talk about my family a lot, some might say too much.

“That’s coming up this summer, isn’t it? When is it — July?”

“Yeah, only two—” I’m cut off by my phone lighting up again, Ryan’s face once again on the screen. “God, he needs to stop. Sorry — let me text him.” I decline the call and start texting him, but before I can hit send, FaceTime is ringing again.

Daniel laughs, “I really think you should answer. He’s rather persistent.”

I shake my head, “Sorry.” I apologize before reluctantly answering the call, “Ryan, why are you—”

“Lauren!”

“Yes, hello.”

“I have been trying to reach you.” I look up at Daniel who has an amused smile on his face.

“I realize that, yes. I am doing something though, so is this an emergency, or...?”

“I was talking with Rachel and my mom, I guess the final guest count was due today.”

“Okay? That’s... nice. Is that… it?”

“Don’t worry, I told her you made a mistake on your RSVP; I fixed it just in time.”

I frown. “What do you mean? How did I make a mistake?”

Ryan rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s trying — and failing — not to look smug.

“You forgot to put that you were bringing a plus one.”

I laugh at that, “Yeah, I didn’t forget that, I don’t have a plus one.”

“I know.”

Silence.

“If you know that, why did you tell her I did? Your mom is going to be really mad if they pay for a plate of food for someone who doesn’t exist.”

Daniel’s fidgeting with his cards, but looking at me curiously.

“Because, Lauren. you need to find a plus one.”

“Uh —”

“No, no, no… listen. I’m bringing my girlfriend, and Rachel, who’s younger than you, by the way, is getting married. You’re, what? In your late twenties?” He takes a deep breath, “It’s time to find a mate.”

I visibly cringe at the messed up teenage boy logic. Daniel strategically places a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, and I feel my cheeks start to heat up.

“A mate? Ryan, this is. Okay. That is, first of all, a really weird word choice. Second of all, thank you so much for your input. I really appreciate it, but —”

“No, Lauren. Listen. If you show up to this wedding without a date, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“That is NOT —”

“But, if you show up with a date, I will give you a hundred bucks, PLUS my mom won’t be mad at you.”

“Ryan. Seriously. This is not cool — do you even have a hundred bucks?” I feel the panic setting in, and the secondhand embarrassment of this occurring in front of, arguably, the most good-looking man on the planet. Daniel wouldn’t have any idea what it was like to be made fun of by your entire family for never having a boyfriend — or even a date to anything. I feel my face getting hot, and I know anxious tears are in my future. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, to try to calmly explain to my cousin, yet again, that I couldn’t just make someone enter my life by sheer will, nevermind someone who would be willing to fly across the country with me in less than two months. “Plus, Ryan, I don’t know how to tell you this, but —”

I feel a hand on my arm and look up to see Daniel looking at me so seriously, I stop midway through my sentence.

“Lauren? Tell me what?”

I’m still looking at Daniel who shakes his head ‘no.’ Confused, I make the mistake of asking out loud, “What?”

“Lauren? Who are you talking to?”

I look back at Daniel who is still trying to tell me something with his expression, something I didn’t understand. “Sorry, Ry, I was just —”

“Can I talk to him?” Daniel asks softly, but definitely loud enough for Ryan to hear.

I watch Ryan’s face go through shock, “You’re with a guy right now? Was that an accent? You’re with a guy with an accent?” He starts laughing, but I’m no longer paying attention, I’m still looking at Daniel who is looking at me expectantly, a half smile on his face.

“Sure? Ryan, hold on.” I say, handing the phone over to him with blind trust. I watch as Daniel smiles and waves at the screen.

“Hey Ryan, nice to meet you. I’m Daniel… Lauren talks about you all the time.”

“Uh, hi?”

“Hey. I know this is weird and sudden, but there hasn’t been a good time to really tell you this— Lauren and I are dating,” I feel my eyes widen in shock, but Daniel just glances at me and smiles. “I asked her not to tell anyone — I’m actually an actor, and — ”

“Wait a second, you were in that show! She’s mentioned you before, she said you guys were just friends…” Ryan interrupts skeptically.

“I know, I know, and to be honest, we were friends first. I just didn’t want her to say anything to anyone until...” He pauses, taking a deep breath, and I watch, bemused at this performance. “Until we knew things were really serious, and that they’d work out.”

“Uh huh. Well, I have a lot of questions about that —”

“I’m sure —”

“But the first one is, if you guys are really dating, are you going to be her plus one to the wedding? Or are things not ‘serious’ enough for you yet?”

I roll my eyes; even in his skepticism, Ryan is still as overprotective as ever.

“No, no, I — I had to check my filming schedule first, but I actually don’t fly out to film my next project until the end of August, so. This works out nicely, and I’m excited to meet you, and everyone, in person.”

It’s quiet a second, and I can almost hear the wheels in Ryan’s head turning.

“Are you covering for her so you get my 100 bucks? You really have to be dating, if you come as her friend it doesn’t count—”

“I know. Trust me. I’m not in this for the money.” He grins, finally looking at me to gauge my reaction which is still one of perplexed fascination. He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it, turning back to Ryan. “You’ll see.”

—-

Daniel and Ryan have a bit of a relaxed chat before Daniel finally gives the phone back to me. Pleasantries firmly pushed aside, Ryan asks me why I didn’t tell him sooner and I double down on the story that Daniel had come up with. I’m a little worried that I look guilty — my face usually betrays me — but if I do, it seems like Ryan just assumes it was guilt from keeping a “secret” from him. When we go to hang up, he smiles at me and says he’s happy for me, and that he hopes I enjoy the rest of my night, winking playfully before hanging up. Once again my cheeks are flushed red.

I let the hand holding the phone fall into my lap, turning my head against the couch to look at Daniel. Not knowing what to say, I shake my head.

He smiles, “Are you mad at me?”

I laugh, “Why would I be mad… are you mad, in the head? Are you really going to fly back to Massachusetts with me?”

He shrugs, smirking, “I do have a lot of miles to use.”

I shake my head, “This isn’t just... this is a commitment, though. If you thought Ryan had questions, wait until you see the rest of my family.” I frown. “They’re going to ask to take pictures with you to post on Facebook.”

“Are they?” he muses, “You think they’ll recognize me?”

“Well, to be honest, they might not… but if you tell them what you do, it won’t even matter. It’s like….” I struggle to find the words. “Clout chasing.”

He shrugs, “Okay.”

“Okay? That doesn’t bother you?”

“I mean, we are friends, we’ve been seen together before, I think it will be fine. Plus, I’ll be on my best behavior.” He puts on a mock serious tone. “No PR scandals.”

I laugh, “Right, because that’s my real concern here.” I pause, thinking it over in silence.

“Why’d you do it?” I don’t need to explain what ‘it’ is. He looks at me for a second before fidgeting with his cards he had previously discarded to talk to Ryan.

“You, uh, get really upset — I know you joke about it, being ‘undateable’ but…” He trails off and after a moment he starts again. “You looked really upset. And if I could help, I wanted to, I guess.”

I scoff. “You didn’t have to volunteer to be my fake boyfriend because you felt bad for me.”

He gives me his signature cheek: “For the record, I’m an actor. I’m a fake boyfriend professionally.”

I laugh, fueled by nerves. “I never thought about it like that.”

“It’ll be fun to meet your family.”

I bite my lip. “Well, get ready, I guess, because this may be your hardest role yet!”

He pretends to weigh the idea in his head, tilting his head to the side. “Mmm, somehow I don’t think so, but don’t worry, we can hold extra rehearsals just in case.”

“Alright. You let me know what that entails.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

We smile at each other. All of a sudden, I realize that the movie’s still playing, and neither of us have paid any attention to it for the better part of an hour. I check the time on my phone.

“We’re going to have to start this movie over next Wednesday. We missed the whole first half, and it’s getting late. I should probably get going.”

“Oh, okay. You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but I know you have an early morning.”

I get up and start gathering my things, moving towards the door. “You’re sweet. Thanks.”

I move to hug him goodbye.

“What are fake boyfriends for?”

I feel myself blush again. “Well. You’re sweet for even agreeing to be my fake boyfriend. I forgot to say thank you.” I look him in the eyes, hoping he can sense the sincerity. “Thank you.”

He smiles softly, “You’re welcome. It’ll be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

—-

The following Wednesday, Daniel has some Skype meetings about the project he’s starting in August and our schedules don’t align for the rest of the week. We still text here and there, and I don’t know if or when we’re going to talk about the wedding. He seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing, but I’m still nervous, and I have a lot of questions swarming in my head. I’m sure I could have texted them to him, but I don’t know how to word things, and I figure it’s best just to discuss in person, where I can read him better.

I knock on his door, pizza box in my hand. A moment passes before Daniel opens the door, looking particularly cozy in an oversized sweater.

“Hey,” he smiles, pushing hair out of his face. “Come on in, sorry — I got a bit caught up in the script my agent just sent over.” He leads me over to the couch, where I see lots of printed pages scattered across the coffee table. He starts piling them together, making room for me to put the box down.

“That’s okay, no worries. Is it a good project? One you’re interested in, I mean?”

It’s no secret that Daniel is sent more projects than he bothers to audition for. At this stage of his career, he’s particular about the projects he signs on for. The character and the premise have to be something he believes in, something he cares about.

He glances up at me from where he’s organizing the pages.

“Yeah, I think so. There’s a lot of... sort of psychological conflict in this one, which I like.” He picks up the last of the pages before putting them in a folder and walking off in the direction of the kitchen. “Let me just put this away and then I’ll get plates and napkins — do you want anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” I call after him, finally placing the box down on the table, sitting down in my usual place on the couch and shrugging my bag off my shoulder.

He comes back into the room carrying two glasses and two plates, a piece of notebook paper tucked between his fingers.

“So, uh, I hope it’s okay, but I put together a list.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “A list for what?”

“Things we’ll need answers for, for your family. Like character backstory… things like when we started dating — so our answers match.” He says it very matter-of-fact, like this was just everyday conversation and not something I’ve been silently obsessing over for the better part of a week.

“Oh! That’s really thoughtful,” I smile. “Good idea.”

He shrugs, handing me a plate and opening the pizza box, “I do it for every role.”

“Right,” I nod. We take a few minutes to eat and talk over our week, and then he wipes his hands on his napkin and picks up his list again.

“Alright, so, how we met, I figure we can keep the truth, that’s fine.”

“Yup, you came to see your friend in the community play, which I also happened to be in, you came to dinner with us after the show, and our friend group melded shortly after that.”

He gestures to the pizza box, “And now we’re having dinners of our own.”

I laugh, “We are.”

“So that’s when we met, but when did things change?”

I sit thinking, and Daniel does the same.

I’ve probably had a crush on Daniel since I saw him that first night; he’s the kind of person it’s hard not to feel drawn to right away. He has a way of making people feel seen, and his comments on the show were so thoughtful. I valued his compliments before I even knew he was an actor professionally. I wonder if I could say the truth out loud in a way that was nonchalant, make it seem like a concept that wasn’t based on real experience.

“Well,” I begin, clearing my throat. “I probably liked you from the word go, but I wouldn’t have done anything about it. So that would have had to come from you.”

“Huh,” he scratches his chin. “Leaving it all up to me. No pressure.” He chuckles. “I— hmm. I would need to know, or at least think you liked me before doing anything.”

“Oh, so you decide who to date based on who likes you, I see,” I tease.

“Fuck off, obviously I like you— would like you if I was going to date you, but I mean. I don’t want to be one of those guys creeping on his friends who aren’t interested.”

“Sure, Sharman, sure. So…?”

“Alright. Well, realistically, how long could you have been hiding this from your family? You talk to them all the time.” I roll my eyes but know he’s right. “So a month, maybe? That brings us back to April… . Got it— my birthday.”

“Happy birthday, I’m your girlfriend now!” I fake cheer.

He looks me dead in the eyes, replying with mock sincerity. “The best present I could have ever asked for.”

“Oh, shut up! So ridiculous. What happened on your birthday? What changed, as you say?”

I watch him think, curiously, thinking back to his birthday myself. It was a low key get together at his house with a bunch of his friends, some of whom were our mutual friends. He was grinning the whole night, and I loved to see him so carefree and happy.

“When you brought out the cake,” he starts, still staring off into space, “your face was all lit up by the candles, and everyone was singing, but all I could think about was how beautiful you looked. I realized I had to tell you how I felt, so I did. I pulled you aside at the end of the night and we talked, and then I kissed you.” He looks up at me. “What do you think?”

“That’s beautiful,” I compliment, trying not to think about how much I wish that really happened, that he really thought that when I brought out his birthday cake. “Who knew you were such a romantic deep down?”

He laughs bashfully. “I think you knew.”

“Maybe I had an inkling,” I smile. “What’s next on the list?”

He looks down at his list. “Have we said the big L word yet?”

“For sure. That same night.”

Daniel laughs and gives me a strange look. “You were ready for that one.”

“Well, I don’t know— you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

He smirks. “Right, well, when you say it like that, who could argue?”

—-

It’s another Friday when I’m lying down on Daniel’s couch with my eyes closed, when I feel him come and sit next to me, perching on the edge of the cushion. He laughs quietly to himself before I feel him start twirling one of my rogue curls around his finger. I open my eyes to see him smiling down at me, newly topped off drink in his hand. We’ve been playing a drinking game to one of his old favorite movies, and we’re both sufficiently tipsy.

“Hi,” I say, looking up at him.

“Oh hello.” He stops playing with my hair, smoothing it back into place. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re always so funny, have I told you that?”

“Mmm,” he pretends to think. “Probably, but I always love when you remind me.”

“I aim to please,” I say, pulling myself halfway up to lean back against the couch cushion. We look at each other for a minute before I feel self-conscious and look away, reaching for my glass of water on the table. “What’re you thinking about?”

He watches me take a sip and says nothing. I quirk an eyebrow up at him, and put my glass back on the table. “Hello?”

“Just trying to figure out if now’s a good time.”

I frown. “Good time for what?”

He says nothing again, still looking at me. I narrow my eyes at him. “Just a reminder, I have anxiety, so if you could hurry up, that would be so very excellent.”

He laughs at that, taking a sip of his drink. He pulls a face after he swallows and leans forward to put the glass on the table.“Bad mix, that.”

“Sharman, honestly. Focus, please.”

“Sorry, sorry. Alright.”

I look at him expectantly.

“There’s one thing we haven’t really talked about— for the wedding.”

My stomach turns, as I try to think of what we could have missed. “What is it?”

“The, uh. Like, the physicality of it.”

I don’t say anything for a moment, the words slowly processing in my head through the fog of liquor.

“That sounds… very technical. Please elaborate.”

He runs a hand through his hair and I can’t tell if he’s nervous or exasperated. “Like kissing, holding hands— that sort of thing. I just thought, maybe it would be less awkward? To talk about this, uh, slightly inebriated... for you, I mean.”

“Uh huh, for me. I see.”

“Well,” I see the playfulness in his eyes. “You are the self-proclaimed nervous one.”

I bump my shoulder against his. “And I don’t kiss people for a living.”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s my entire job, but,” he smirks, “lucky for you, I have had lots of practice.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

It’s quiet for a minute.

“Anyways, I was going to say — we should practice. Kissing, I mean. If the first time we kiss is in front of your family, that could be problematic. And extremely uncomfortable.”

I laugh, blushing, and blurt out the first thing I think of: “Oh, so you got me drunk not to talk about kissing me, but to actually kiss me.”

He shrugs, “I didn't want you to overthink it.”

“Mmmm,” I muse. “How thoughtful.”

He smiles at me. “Well,” he says, bringing up a hand as if he’s brushing hair behind my ear and keeping it there. “As your fake boyfriend, I have to be, don’t I?”

I smile, not saying anything. I feel him shift closer, and my heart starts pounding in my chest. “Can I kiss you now?” he whispers.

I nod, my heart still pounding.

He gently presses his soft lips to mine before pulling back for a second. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, my hand gently moving up his bicep as he leans back in. This time I follow his lead as our lips slowly move together. He kisses me more purposefully and my breath catches in my throat, my hand wandering to his chest. I feel his hand move to my hip, his fingers mindlessly reaching just under the hem of my shirt. His hand is cold, but his touch burns my skin and sends a shiver up my spine.

“C’mere,” he murmurs against my mouth, maneuvering me into his lap effortlessly. I don’t even have time to feel self-conscious about it because his hands, his huge, warm hands, are holding my face tenderly as he kisses me like I’m his prized possession.

His tongue glides along my bottom lip, subtly asking to be let in. Almost too eagerly, I open my mouth, and he hums low in his throat, deepening the kiss. While I don’t want to think about it, I force myself to remember that while this is something I’ve dreamed about, Daniel’s an actor— and he’s acting.

I savor the moment before we pull apart, both breathing heavily. Daniel’s eyes are still closed, his face flushed, lips a warm pink. I admire the freckles sprinkled on his cheeks and feel myself begin to blush furiously. I tuck my head into his neck as I feel one of his hands stroke my hair.

His voice is soft and slightly hoarse as he asks, “You alright?”

I nod, breathing him in deeply before pulling back to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah,” he bites his lip. “I think… I think we have that down.”

I can’t help but laugh from nerves, and then he laughs too. Flustered, I smooth my hands over his shirt where it wrinkled when he placed me in his lap. I carefully get off of him, his hands falling to his sides as I resume my spot next to him on the couch. I already miss his warmth and I have no clue what to do with my hands now.

I can feel Daniel’s eyes on me, so I look back at him. His face is unreadable; I shoot him a reassuring smile, and after a moment he seems to snap back to reality and he smiles back at me.

I wonder how I’m supposed to go back to just being his friend when this is all over when I now know how it feels to be desired by him, wanted by him, even if it’s all just for show.

“So!” Daniel says, clapping his hand on his knees. “What time am I meeting you tomorrow? Or are you coming here first? Do you need me to pick you up?”

I laugh again. “We never decided! Do you want to carpool? Because we definitely can.”

“Yeah, let’s do that so I can control the music—”

“Excuse you—”

“Besides, we’re going to my stylist, so I know how to get there.”

“For your suit. I told you I can just get a dress at the mall —”

“But that’s unnecessary since we’re going to match, and we’re going to my stylist already. I already had Alicia grab a bunch of dresses for you to try.”

“Which are probably going to be approximately eight million dollars —”

“No. They aren’t. And if they are —”

“—If they are, I am going to buy a dress at the mall.”

“—Then either I can pay for part of it, or I can have her pull some other options —”

“You’re not going to pay for it, I’m serious —”

“—It’s not a big deal, Laur, you need to relax.”

“That’s annoying, don’t tell me to relax.”

“Okay, sorry…”

I sigh dramatically as I swipe my phone open to get an Uber home, and he bumps his shoulder into mine to get my attention.

“But seriously, what time?”

“What time did you tell Alicia we would be there?”

“2:30, I think?”

“Okay, then if we aren’t going to the mall first —” Daniel grins triumphantly. “— then do you want to grab me at like 1:45?”

“For you, I can do that.” he smirks as my phone chimes, alerting me that my ride is approaching.

I stand up to gather my things as Daniel follows me to the door.

“Lauren,” Daniel calls, lightly grabbing my wrist as I go to step out. I turn to face him only to be greeted by his lips on mine. As soon as they’re there, they’re gone.

Daniel keeps his face an inch from mine as he says, “You’re going to have to get used to that.” He smirks. “Text me when you get home safe.”

I shake my head. “See you tomorrow.” And this time, I catch him off guard, kissing him quickly before I turn around, walking out of his place to the sound of his laughter.

—-

I climb into the passenger seat of Daniel’s car, finding him snapping his gum, one hand on the steering wheel and sunglasses on. He looks good.

“Good morning LaurLaur,” he grins.

“Good morning to you too,” I laugh. “You’re in a good mood.”

He shrugs, pulling away from the curb. “Am I? Just pleased you’ve given up on going to the mall. It’s bloody awful over there.”

“Are you sure Alicia is okay with styling me? She’s not my stylist.”

He laughs, “Are you kidding? She was over the moon. Says styling me is boring, and girls are much more fun.”

“Ironic, since she’s your stylist. This seems so fancy for one wedding.”

I can’t see it, but I know he’s rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. “It’s really so much easier. Plus this way we’ll match, and be cute and shit.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cute and shit,’ that’s us.”

Daniel grins, reaching over to thread his fingers through mine. “Not yet, but it’s going to be, darling.”

My stomach dips at the nickname even though I know he’s just teasing me.

I roll my eyes and try not to blush, turning to look out the window, trying to ignore the way his thumb traces the back of my hand.

When we walk into Alicia’s studio, we’re surrounded by mirrors and good music.

Alicia lights up right away when she spots us.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Daniel Sharman and his lovely mystery guest.”

I shoot Daniel a look and he rolls his eyes. Alicia must see the exchange because she laughs.

“I’m teasing, he told me you were coming. I just was starting to think I’d never see the day I got to style Sharman and a lady friend.”

“Alicia, I don’t pay you to embarrass me,” Daniel jokes, leaning in to give her a hug.

“Yeah, because I do that for free.” She winks at me.

“I’m Lauren, it’s nice to meet you,” I reach out to shake her hand, but she pulls me into a tight, warm hug.

“We’re huggers around here, especially since you’re letting me style you on this guy's dollar—”

“Oh no,” I interject, “I’ll be paying for all of my things—”

“No can do, chica, this guy’s already made me promise to send him the bill.”

I turn and glare at Daniel. “Daniel Sharman, you promised me—”

He waves me off. “It’s easier this way. Can we just worry about that later? Let’s see what Alicia put together for us, shall we?”

I cross my arms, vowing to get back to the subject once we’re back in the car, and turn back to Alicia, who’s walking us over to some racks and tables she has set up.

“Okay, well, Daniel didn’t really give me a lot of details as to what colors or styles you like, but he did show me your Instagram, so I got an idea of your coloring and made some guesses as to your sizes. You’re so pretty in person, by the way—”

“I, uh— thank you.” I stammer, unsure if it’s a compliment or a suggestion that I don’t photograph well.

“So I kind of compared your coloring with his, and I figured you guys could have either a blue moment, or we could have Daniel in grey and accent one of these other colors I pulled for you.”

I look over the table and see some green, some pink, and some purple.

“I have a bunch of styles too, not sure if you wanted sleeves, strapless… I figured you could try some on and we could go from there.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Thank you.”

“No problem, honey! Daniel, I obviously have suits for you to try, too. Let me go get those.”

She wanders away for a minute and I turn to Daniel. “This seems way more focused on me than you— also, still extremely annoyed about that paying-for-everything stunt you pulled.”

“I told you that guy fashion is boring, and really, you can just Venmo me after, it’s not a—”

We both hush as Alicia returns, wheeling out another rack with gray and navy blue suits on it.

“Alright, so Daniel, you know where the fitting room is if you want to look through these and take some options with you. Lauren, I’m just going to do some quick measurements on you if that’s okay, so I can narrow down your dress size.”

“Oh, um, sure.”

As Daniel leaves the room, Alicia leads me to a circular pedestal in front of a three tiered mirror. She takes out her measuring tape and takes a few different measurements, writing some things down on a notepad.

Once we finish, Alicia walks over to her table and the dress rack, reviewing her options. I stand there quietly watching her pick up dresses and fabric swatches, look at me, and either put them down or add them to an empty rack. Daniel comes waltzing back into the room in a light grey suit. It sits a little wide through his torso, and the sleeves are a little too long, but he still wears it well.

“Thoughts on this one, ladies?”

Alicia gives him a quick once over.

“I was hoping you’d like that one! The grey will be nice and cool for the summer, but I want to tailor it in some. Make it a bit more fitted.”

I smirk. “Make sure he has enough wiggle room to dance.”

Alicia laughs. “That I can absolutely do.”

Daniel looks at me expectantly.

I smile. “You look really good, D.”

He nods at me and smiles back.

“Have you tried any dresses on yet?”

“Not yet, Alicia was just pulling the ones she wants me to try.”

Daniel walks over to the table, looking at the pieces Alicia has hung up on the rack.

“These jewel tones are going to look lovely on you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I blush, not missing the slight elbow that Alicia gives Daniel. Alicia walks over to me, three dresses in hand.

“Why don’t you try these three on and we’ll go from there.”

She shows me over to a changing room and hangs up the dresses for me, telling me to come out and show them when I’m done.

I take a second to admire my options. The first dress I pick up is a deep ocean blue green in a soft, silky material. It dips down into a modest V in the front, with a flared skirt.

The second is a muted bubblegum pink, strapless and fitted in the bodice, with a thin tulle skirt that brushes the floor.

The last is a periwinkle with lavender undertones, and is a bit more flowy with ruched fabric coming over the shoulder and defining the bodice in a deeper V-neck — but still respectable for a family wedding. Alicia knows her stuff.

I decide to try the blue-green dress first, as I’m drawn to the color right away. It’s maybe the simplest of the options, but that’s what I like about it. I’m a bit surprised that it seems to fit so effortlessly. It seems like I’d be able to wear it all day, dance and not have to fidget too much. I smooth my hands over it and peek out of the dressing room, where Daniel and Alicia are waiting.

“Okay, option number one,” I announce.

“It might be one and done,” Alicia shakes her head. “That looks really gorgeous on you.”

“Beautiful,” Daniel chimes in from next to her.

I smile. “Thank you. I really like this one.”

“Try on the other two just for fun,” Alicia suggests, and I nod, heading back to try on the pink dress.

The chest on the pink dress is a little big on me for a strapless, but I hold it up as I head back out to show them.

Alicia narrows her eyes. “A little big in the bust… I could bring that in. I think it might look a little more prom-y on than I anticipated. We could take the skirt up, but I don’t know. I don’t like it as much as the first.”

Daniel hums from next to her, and I look at him expectantly.

“It’s up to you two, but I agree. That first dress is going to be tough to beat.”

We laugh and I head back in to try on the last dress. This one is extremely elegant, and I feel very glamorous. I like it much more than I thought that I would. I step out to show them, and Alicia whistles.

“Okay miss thing, where're you going? The red carpet?”

Daniel smirks and nods. “I really like that on you.”

“I like it more than I thought I would. It’s probably between this and the first one for me.”

Alicia nods. “I have more options, but since we have two we like, I don’t see the sense in complicating the decision more.”

“I’m going to need you guys to help me choose.”

Daniel looks at Alicia, who thinks for a moment before pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Let me take a picture, and then can you put the first dress on again?”

“Sure.” I smile as she takes the picture, before quickly changing into the ocean-colored dress again. I twirl in front of them playfully while we deliberate.

Daniel speaks first. “I like this one. It’s just… you. You seem comfortable in it, and the color looks amazing on you.”

I blush and look at Alicia, who’s nodding in agreement. “I agree. The other one is very pretty— you look like a star, but I think for the wedding, this is the way to go.”

“I think so, too. This one is just… easy, but still pretty.” I turn to Daniel. “You didn’t try on the other suits— are you sold on the grey one?” He looks down, like he forgot he was wearing it. “Yeah, I think so, especially with your dress. I wouldn’t want to wear navy with it.”

“All very good points,” I nod.

Daniel turns to Alicia, who’s writing something down in her notebook. “Do you have ties or something that would match her dress?”

Alicia raises an eyebrow. “Going for the matching look, huh?”

Daniel looks at me, smirking. “Yeah, we have to be cute.”

I roll my eyes at him and Alicia snorts.

“I did pull some accessories for you, so let me look.”

Alicia wanders off in search of a tie and a pocket square and Daniel grins at me.

“This?” he gestures between us, still in our outfits. “Cute as shit.”

-------------

feedback welcome!

tagged; @rogershoe

#daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fluff #yellow lights

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shimmershae · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on Episode 5--Out of the Ashes.

Okay, though. I’m already excited about this one because Carol and Lydia are on the little guide picture thingy, lol. My girls.

As usual, I’m going to put the rest underneath a cut to save you lovelies potentially being spoiled should you not want to be.

Wow. Look at that full moon. And the colors in the woods.

I’m telling you. These cold opening scenes have been generally pretty awesome this season.

Aaron with Gracie always gives us such sweetness but this time maybe not.

Omigosh. Now *that* is a nightmare--the Walkers, the Wolves, the Saviors, the Whisperers, Mays. Did I miss anybody? And then Gracie gone just like that? Poor Aaron. All he wants is to keep his little girl safe and happy.

So. Is Gracie sleeping right next to her daddy because she had a nightmare or because her daddy’s been having them? Because either way, oh my freaking heart. Especially at her still sleeping with her stuffed bunny. I’m really, really hoping that bunny isn’t a bad omen of sorts for our Gracie, because little girls with bunnies haven’t fared all that well--going all the way back to the first episode and as recently as the subway episode where Daryl found that picture of the two siblings after they’d already found the bunny from the picture amongst the bodies. Please not Gracie. Aaron has already been through so much.

Are they all just communing together now? Because I can see how that would harken back to Season 4.

Jerry! Not even 3 minutes in and already two of my faves are present. I can tell this is going to be a good episode.

That really sucks. Not even being able to take a peaceful piss because you can see Walkers shambling past your window, lol.

There goes my queen running straight at danger as real queens are apt to do. ;)

Were there always lights coming on in the windmill during the opening credits or is that a new thing for this episode?

That orientation video was so surreal. Had to laugh at the political touch of having “this message is approved by Pamela Milton” at the end.

Okay. So they’re getting their work assignments, huh? Orientations are the worst, lol. All that damn paperwork.

Retail clerk--Princess being excited at the prospect of working in a mall, even having a mall again, has me LMAO even as I’m like girl. No. You’ll love it ‘til you hate it.

I didn’t catch Eugene’s job. But Ezekiel doing animal control kind of cracks me up. For reasons.

So. Essentially Eugene and Princess and Ezekiel got blue collar jobs while Yumiko’s got an invitation to join the upper crust.

I love Lydia being accepted as part of the community. About damn time.

For a second I thought Rosita said what’s left of the horses plural and I was fixin’ to go OH NO.

This is where I’m at on the Maggie/Negan issue, for better or worse: Maggie absolutely, IMHO, has earned the right to stay mad at Negan for the rest of her days. Because Glenn. Because her little boy was robbed of his daddy. That said? I don’t think I have it in me to watch 5 more episodes of this beaten horse antagonistic conversation much less a whole season. It would be one thing if it hadn’t already stolen valuable and earned screen time from other characters that seem to have been pushed to the periphery to spotlight it like it was the marquee event or something. I don’t want want 2/3′s of the final season so heavily focused on the conflict between these two when there are so many characters that are already woefully underutilized. It’s only compelling if it doesn’t become commonplace.

It’s a sad business having to put down people you know, I’d expect. Funny, though. We never knew them so the impact is kind of artificial. I appreciate the intent of the scene, though.

Where the hell are all the Walkers coming from? Like, I thought most of them went skydiving off that cliff without parachutes.

Judith training the other babies. If only her parents--every damn one of them--could see her now.

Gus! How cool and awesome for him!

ASZ is just full of asshole teens isn’t it? How dare that little dipshit push our Asskicker down like that and say such hateful things? To be fair, though, the kid is probably just repeating what he’s heard from others and I’m glad they’re being realistic here even if I don’t like seeing Judith cry.

Cailey Fleming’s expressive face and eyes! This kid has my heart, ya’ll.

That perfectly pretty cake wasted! LMAO. Seriously though. How does a cardiothoracic surgeon end up assigned to work in the bakery? Yumiko’s reunion with her brother Tomi honestly was on par with what I’d expect from someone seeing the sister they’d long given up as dead.

Freaky still how the Whisperers choose to herd the dead even without Beta and Alpha.

Was that the real Stephanie in the scene with the ice cream? Right under Eugene’s nose while he’s with Fake Stephanie? They have a connection, ya’ll. Eugene felt it.

Okay, though. I wanted the kids having their first ice cream cones. If I were Eugene, though, I probably would have inhaled that thing after being deprived for so long.

The Milton Hotel? Alrighty then. Somebody feels self-important.

Aww. Eugene’s thinking of Rosita and Coco. They really have evolved into such a sweet, good friendship and I miss them together.

Literally, I love Princess more each time I see her and hear her open her hilarious mouth. LOL at her with the ice cream cone.

Is everybody in ASZ staying in the same damn house? Whoever broke the board with Carl’s and Judith’s handprints on it needs an ass kicking.

“Me, too.” Welp. Guess RJ’s already met his line quota per appearance 24 minutes in, LOL.

Aww. My heart. A Rosita/Judith scene. I’m already loving it but not gonna lie. Who do we have topay to get a Carol/Judith scene because she’s been there since Judith was an embryo?

“Now it’s broken. He’s gone. Everybody is.” The way this scene is unexpectedly gutting me right now. Because Rosita’s right. It never really gets easier. It’s just something you figure out how to carry. How many people devastated by Covid or other illness or tragedy are carrying these same feelings of loss and hurt everyday?

Give us more of those heartfelt moments, dammit. This girl at least craves them. Not the endless Maggie/Negan conflict.

Ouch. “I think I haven’t met a Whisperer who wasn’t a liar.” Damn Aaron. Lydia’s right there beside you.

Angry Jerry hurts my heart in ways I cannot explain.

On a completely shallow note, Miko’s brother is attractive too. I quite like his accent, lol. I wonder why he’s so hesitant to put his skills as a surgeon to use.

“Want some cake?”/”Hell, yes.” Yumiko=me 99% of the time. LOL. Just kidding. In reality, I have to say no.

“They clearly got a gym in this joint. Your chiseling is perfecto.” LMAO. I’m all for Princess/Mercer. She flusters him a little and I’m loving it. When she told him he had beautiful eyelashes, I howled.

Oh my sweet Aaron. I’m in the same kind of pain and disbelief as Lydia watching you interrogate that Whisperer.

Thank you, Carol. Melissa McBride? I effing LOVE you. My heart hurts.

I’m sure she’s gonna get hate from the usual crowd while they cheer Aaron further along his dark and desperate path. Yes. Ya’ll are *that* predictable.

But Maggie, though? How long you gonna wait? Because you gonna be waiting on Daryl’s ass a long time.

“Cheesy video guy.” LOL. Leave it to Princess. Somehow that Lance dude looks even cheesier in RL.

By the screaming cave? What the hell is the screaming cave?

Ohh. Next episode actually looks interesting. Thank goodness it’s not a bottle episode strictly focusing on Virgil/Connie though because no matter how much I like Connie/Lauren? I don’t think whatever story she’s stuck in with Virgil is enough to keep me riveted to the tv.

Overall impression of this episode--again, I enjoyed it. Aaron’s dream was dark AF. Hell. Aaron was dark AF in this episode. Ross Marquand did some really strong work and I’m glad he finally got a moment to shine even though I hate seeing him leaning into the darkness instead of his inherent goodness. Judith and Rosita’s scenes were touching. Carol/Melissa made me bawl in the span of two minutes. That’s why she’s the MVP of this show, lovelies. She does so very much with so little. I’m just glad we didn’t have to see Leah and her band of bitchass brothers this episode.

I’m going to miss this show when it’s gone. At least I’ll have the Carol and Daryl spinoff off to ease my heartache.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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ilikemesometaetaes · 3 years

Note

pick 5 people that make your fandom experience wholesome and write a small paragraph about each one of them 💖

Thanks for sending me this ask, Waverly! It was so fun to answer. Hope you’ve been doing well :)

My six five people are:

@itsgottabeyoo-ngs - Kaitlin

She’s the love of my life. I met her in September, when I was just starting out my writing journey, and she was the last to join the Groupchat because KakaoTalk deemed her “suspicious.” I still remember that day like it was yesterday. We both drove three hours to meet each other and we’re about to do it again so that we can be together like we hope to be someday. I love you, baby girl. —Daddy

@junghoseokit - Adora

She’s also the love of my life. She came into my life the same day as Kaitlin. What a ball of sunshine that girl is. There’s never a dull moment thanks to her. Any time I need her, she’s there with open arms like Namjoon’s there for Army. She also happens to be trying to double dip with Hobi and Jiminie- we canNOT have that, can we? My face is her th- never mind that. I can’t wait to be with you, love. Japan?? —Daddy

@dariangarcia - Lauren

The third of my poly. She joined the Groupchat on the same day as the others. That person that you can be an evil minion with? That’s her. There to comfort you one moment and then triggering you into a tirade of why Jeon fucking Jungkook needs to sit the fuck down for once in the next. I swear to god this girl adds so much spice to the relationship between the five of us. “RapMon’s Baby Mama” is the love of my life and she knows it. Love you, mi alma. —Daddy

@pinknamjoon - Lanie

This gorgeous woman is the one that keeps me up at night- in a very (I mean this with the most impure intentions) good way. Just looking at her makes my heart shine with the brightness of a thousand stars. I met her on the same day as the others and I knew I was in love then. She’s our resident mommy that takes care of us when we’re down. Love you, gorgeous. —Daddy

I’m gonna put two more instead of one.

@jimilter - Ash

Ash is my first beta and I’m so happy to have her. She’s part of @bangtansorciere and happens to be a literal angel. She also happens to be the first one to take a look at Part Three 😈. Thank you for being you, Ash. You’re the best!

@ressjeon - Yannie

You. You are… evil… you push my buttons on the daily and I cannot even begin to fathom how you know when to catch me defenseless. I swear on everything holy that you were created to be the bane of my existence and I hope you know that I love you for it. You’re such an awesome gal. April babies rule.

#asks #thanks for sending!#my loves #my hearteu #I’m in a poly #bts

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witcherslittledove · 3 years

Text

All Tied Up

Joey Batey/Henry Cavill RPF - Also on AO3

Rating: E

Summary: All of the things Joey had expected from his first day back on set, he hadn't expected to spend the morning in a harness and chained up. And he really hadn't expected Henry to be staring at him like that. It was going to be a hard day.

CW: Light spoilers for Blood of Elves, bondage, references to torture (for Jaskier not Joey), exhibitionism, masturbation, hand jobs, frottage, multiple orgasms

Thanks to @jaskiertheflowertwink for being my beta!

__________

Joey tugged at the cuffs of Jaskier’s doublet, it felt strange to be back on set after so many months away, trapped in his flat with Madeleine. Luckily, Jaskier was an easy character to settle into, almost like a second skin. The bard was eager to come out and play, taking the edge off of Joey’s anxiety. With Jaskier, he almost forgot how much he fucking hated other people. Still, not even Jaskier could save him from first day nerves, and Lauren hadn’t started his shoot off easy. Joey was diving straight into a torture scene, and he would be spending the majority of the day hung up from the ceiling in ropes and shackles, waiting for darling Anya to come and save him. It wouldn’t be real of course, there would be harnesses and all sorts of wires to make sure he wasn’t injured, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. The harness was already bulking out his costume, and chafing the insides of his thighs.

And after the mess of the pandemic, Joey wasn’t sure how he felt about losing control and being trapped for the afternoon. It unnerved him. He wanted to be free, and thought of the shackles around his wrists just… nope.

“Hey?” Henry came up from behind him, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” Joey mumbled, staring up at the set. “First day back and all. It’s like being back at school.”

“You’ll be fine, Joey. You’re an incredible actor and I couldn’t ask for a better bard,” Henry reassured him, his voice low and gravelly in Joey’s ear. It was unreasonably hot. Honestly, Joey knew that Henry was fucking Superman but did he really have to be so godlike, and on top of that he was a complete dork.

Perhaps Joey could invite him to a D&D game once they were done shooting season two. Would that be too weird? It was probably too weird. They were just colleagues. Christ, Joey hadn’t even seen Henry since they’d finished promoting the show the year before. He really needed to get a grip, and ignore Jaskier’s voice in the back of his head. They were not best friends, and Henry would not want to play a shitty Dungeons and Dragons game with him.

Okay. Not shitty. His games were pretty fucking brilliant, but Henry would be too busy with his PC games, and his War Hammer and whatever cooler nerd stuff that he got up to in between his work outs and eating far too many chicken breasts and smoothies.

Jesus Christ, he missed Madeleine.

He didn’t say any of that aloud, no, that was for the safety of his own thoughts, racing at a million miles per hour. Instead, he channeled Jaskier and laughed, hiding his anxiety behind the more confident mask that had fooled millions of people into loving him. “Now, now, witcher,” he teased. “We both know you don’t mean that, what was it you said? If life could give me one blessing.”

“Oh fuck that, we’ve both read the books,” Henry groused, rolling his eyes.

His very, very blue eyes. He was in full make-up except for the yellow contacts and it was just weird to see Henry’s eyes looking back at him from Geralt’s face. It was confusing. Were they Henry and Joey right now? Or Geralt and Jaskier?

Perhaps a weird blend of the two.

And it was only the first fucking day.

Joey chuckled, “Yeah, talking of which, why are you here, Henry? I don’t recall Geralt being Jaskier’s Prince Charming in this scene.”

Henry shrugged. “It’s your first day, I wanted to see how you are.”

Joey swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, and he flicked his fringe from his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wanted to run his hands through his hair but the poor hair and make-up team would have his balls in a vice if he tried. It was bad enough that he kept pulling at his costume, but luckily he seemed to have made fidgeting into a characteristic for Jaskier. He grinned, settling back into the character more than ever. “So, you came to see me all tied up?”

Henry, the bastard, winked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Joey squeaked, feeling his cheeks heat up beneath the make-up. He tried to laugh it off but holy fucking cock balls… was Henry actually flirting with him? And about bondage of all things. Fuck. He was not going to survive the day, not if Henry was watching him.

No. It was going to be fine. He was an actor, a professional. He wasn’t going to get hard on set just because his unfairly attractive co-star was watching him. The harness was uncomfortable. He’d probably be in pain and there would be an entire crew watching him. There was absolutely no reason to get hard.

So… naturally… he got hard.

Getting into the rigging was awkward and possibly the least sexy thing he had ever done in his entire life, which was really saying something. The shackles around his wrist didn’t hurt at first but his arms became tired quickly. He opted to stay in the rigging as much as he could between takes though. It was better for continuity and, well, if he was being truly honest with himself, he was enjoying the way Henry looked at him. It was intense, not dissimilar to how Geralt looked at Yennefer whenever she entered the room, but this time that burning desire wasn’t directed at Anya, it was directed at him… and Henry wasn’t acting.

It was all incredibly distracting, but having Henry there made him completely forget about his previous anxiety of being tied up for the morning. Something about the other actor’s presence was grounding and Joey trusted Henry not to let him get hurt, more than he trusted the crew, which was completely stupid and probably the result from some teenage crush. He was lucky that he only flubbed his lines a couple of times, and by the time Yennefer flew into the room, he was aching and desperate to return to his trailer.

He’d never been so grateful for Jaskier’s baggy clothes.

“Ah, umm, Lauren?” he stammered, rubbing his wrists. They were sore, and he really needed to stretch out his arms, maybe have a nap too. Fuck, he was really out of shape. Lockdown had really been a curse. “Can we take a breather?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck and giving the showrunner a sheepish smile. “I umm.. I need a break.”

“Oh yeah, sure. You’ve done brilliant work today, Joey. Let’s take a half hour everyone!”

Joey all but ran back to his trailer, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to hide his erection as best he could. Occasionally he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back so that if anyone saw him then they would think he just needed to recover from the physical exertion of being strung up like a puppet for most of the morning. He was sure that he looked like a state, his doublet was torn and bloody and his shirt barely covering his torso. The makeup team had had far too much fun spraying him with fake blood and dirt. He hadn’t been allowed to shave for a couple of days and heavy film makeup was caked on his face, making him seem bloodied and bruised. His lips itched from where they had been made to look split…

And everyone was staring at him.

Fuck.

He supposed he was usually the one that wasn’t covered in shit. The worst he’d had was the djinn wound from season one, but normally he was all bright doublets and smiles. Sometimes a little bit mucky, but nothing like this.

And Jesus Christ, he really needed a wank.

Why on god’s earth had Henry been staring at him like that? Did the bastard know how it affected him? He probably knew. Fuck, cocking shit balls! He was in trouble. Joey was still trying to break into the industry, if fucking Superman lodged a sexual harassment complaint against him then he was done for. He’d never work again…

But then again, Henry hadn’t been looking at him like he was angry. No, he’d been looking at him like he wanted to eat Joey alive, get down on his knees and get his mouth around Joey’s cock whilst he’d still been suspended in the rigging, the shackles caught around his wrists, unable to move…

“Fucking cock!” Joey slammed through the door to his trailer, fiddling with the fastenings of Jaskier’s trousers as soon as he was inside. His cock was already leaking in his boxers, throbbing and desperate for relief. He bit back a moan as he thumbed the slit, collecting the precum on his fingers and sliding it down the length of his cock. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and he closed his eyes, picturing Henry’s blue eyes, dark and wanting, his pretty pink lips stretched around Joey’s cock.

He barely managed to stumble to the bed, his legs shaking, head already spinning. It wasn’t going to take him long, he’d been far too keyed up all morning, and with Henry at the forefront of his mind, he was tumbling towards his orgasm faster than he would have liked. Joey moaned, biting his lip as he stroked his cock, the memories of the day fuelling his fantasies. It felt so fucking good and soon he felt a familiar tug at his core.

“Joey, are you alright?”

“Shit!” Joey gasped as he came all over his hand, but the pleasure seeped from his body, leaving him feeling hollow and dissatisfied, “For fuck’s sake, Henry! Fucking knock!”

Henry was staring back at him, blue eyes, silver hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looking like a fucking god. The bastard smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow. Joey had a sinking feeling in his chest.

“You- you did knock?”

Henry chuckled, his low gravelly laugh that sent shivers down Joey’s spine. There was a reason he spent much of their time on set trying to make Henry laugh. It was a gorgeous and beautiful sound, and Joey was completely addicted. He would quite happily spend the rest of his life trying to make Henry laugh… although that made him sound a lot more infatuated than he actually was, right?

They were just friends.

And Henry was a very attractive friend, friend? Co-star? Fuck!

“I am so sorry, Henry,” Joey whined, pulling a pillow in front of his face to try and hide his embarrassment but Henry wasn’t having any of it. He sat down next to Joey on the bed, gently pulling the pillow from his hands.

“Don’t apologise,” he said hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have walked in. I heard you moaning. It wasn’t exactly a hard jump to make… pun intended.”

Despite himself, Joey snorted and whacked Henry on the arm with his clean hand. “You arse!”

“What?”

“I’m actually dying of embarrassment and you’re making dick jokes!”

Henry smirked. “Sorry, I thought you’d be up to it.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh come now, Joey.. it’s just a joke.”

Joey whined. “I hate you.”

And then Henry was suddenly in his space, so close that he could feel the warm tingle of the other actor’s breath on his cheeks. Lips brushed against his ear, and despite already cumming, he felt heat prickle over his skin and he mouth was dry. “I don’t think you do,” Henry whispered, his voice dropping to a low base, not dissimilar to the accent he used for Geralt.

Joey took a shaky breath, very aware that his cock was still on display, covered in his spend, already twitching, trying to get hard again. “What- What are you doing, Henry?”

“Tell me to stop, Joey, I’ll leave and we never have to talk about it,” Henry breathed, pressing a kiss to Joey’s neck, nosing along his jaw.

“I-I… no. Don’t stop…”

“Seeing you today, chained up, Christ, Joey. It was so fucking hot, and then you were hard. I bet you could hardly resist cumming in your pants like a fucking teenager, and with everyone watching you,” Henry growled in his ear, the actors fingers now stroking along Joey’s thighs, higher, creeping closer to his slowly hardening cock. Joey whined, pressing his head into Henry’s shoulder, “but I think you like that, don’t you Joey?”

His cheeks flushed red, burning hot right up to his ears. “Fuck off.”

“Or was it just me watching you?”

“Hnnng.”

“Can I touch you?” Henry asked, his voice sounding almost as wrecked as Joey felt, “We don’t have long but, god, I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked into the reading room that first day all those years ago.”

“Wh-what?”

“You seemed so shy, then you started reading and you just melted into Jaskier’s character. It was fucking amazing. You’re amazing.”

Joey whimpered. “Henry, please.”

And then Henry’s hand finally wrapped around his cock. The effect was instantaneous. Joey keened, bucking into Henry’s hand as his second orgasm began to build, his poor cock already sensitive but he was craving more, he wanted to feel that overwhelming pleasure that had been so cruelly stolen from him. Henry covered Joey’s hand with his own, gathering a mess of sticky white fluid and then continued to stroke down the length of Joey’s cock.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm.. uh huh.. Yup,” Joey stammered, lost to his pleasure, his head feeling hazy, almost floaty, but he didn’t need anymore words as Henry’s lips crashed against his. Moans and grunts and gasps were muffled by the kiss, and Henry shifted on the bed so he was sitting over Joey, one of Joey’s legs pressed against his clothed cock.

If Joey had any more sense left in him, he might have offered to get Henry off at the same time, but he was too far gone, babbling nonsense in between kisses, curses, moans, wordless cries. Henry seemed more than happy to thrust against his leg, grunting as he moved to suck kisses onto Joey’s neck.

“Henry, god! Oh fuck!” Joey keened, his back arching off the bed. “I-I… fuck!”

His eyes squeezed shut as he came, sparks flying across his vision and his head rolled back onto the pillow. His energy seemed to drain as the waves of pleasure took over his body, Henry’s hand stroking him through his orgasm, still rutting against his leg until he came with a strangled moan. Henry collapsed on top of Joey, breathing heavily, silver strands of hair getting in Joey’s mouth and eyes.

“Urgh, get off me,” he groaned. “Heavy and you have so much fucking hair!”

“Blame Sapkowski,” Henry grumbled but rolled over, lying next to him on the bed.

They both stared up at the ceiling, panting as they tried to catch their breaths. It should have felt weird, fucking his apparently not straight co-star in the middle of takes… but, well, it sort of just felt right?

Joey laughed, turning to face Henry. “Make-up are gonna kill us.”

“Costume too,” the other actor groaned.

“And Lauren if we don’t get back…”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes met and it was no use. They both reached for each other, their lips meeting once more in a feverish kiss. It wouldn’t hurt if they were a little late… right?

#joey batey/henry cavill #joey/henry #the witcher rpf #rpf

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westallenfun · 3 years

Text

Two's Company (3/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (Happy holidays! I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend Barry Allen, but she grapples with revealing her feelings, for fear of ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may force Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rating: T (Warning: Mild Language)

The mezzanine just above the ballroom of the Time Metropolis is a well-furnished carpeted landing with at least seven chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a wide, glass balcony supposedly for onlookers to look upon the dancing masses below. There are refreshment stalls, serving a variety of beverages, and waiters carrying platters of an assortment of appetizers, including chili lime shrimp cups, fried okra, and goat cheese bites.

When the elevator arrives at the floor of the mezzanine, Iris steps out alongside her father and Cecile and sees that most people are milling around, chatting with one another. It would seem that no one has yet headed down the stairs to the ballroom, which holds the promise of a night of dancing. Furthermore, nobody seems to have noticed Joe, Cecile, and Iris’s arrival yet, as they are several feet away from everyone, which comes as somewhat of a relief for Iris, as she scans the room quickly, her eyes searching for one person only. Sure enough, she finds him, seated at a table, head pressed into his palm, a glass of wine before him, and wearing a distinctly melancholy expression. He is seated beside Cisco and Cynthia, who are conversing with one another, but looking over at him every few seconds, worryingly. Iris swallows, twisting her fingers behind her back, as she feels her sadness and anger dissipate, upon seeing how utterly torn up he looks, and she knows she must speak with Barry. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see her father giving her a reassuring smile, which she returns. When she looks back, she sees that Barry has seen her, as have Cisco and Cynthia. Cynthia appears jovial, leaving the table to come greet them, followed by Cisco, just as other guests begin noticing the new arrivals and start walking over to congratulate Joe and Cecile.

But Iris cannot tear her gaze away from Barry.

Because he’s regarding her like he never has before, as if the wind has been knocked out of him, as if he’s been rendered utterly speechless by her mere presence, gazing at her utterly wide-eyed, and the sheer intensity of the number of emotions his look conveys is too much for Iris, so she looks down at the floor, breathing deeply.

“Hi, Iris,” someone says, and Iris glances to her left and smiles politely when she sees Patty approaching towards her. She appears to be alone, which strikes Iris as odd, but perhaps what is even stranger, now that she thinks about it, is that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Patty,” Iris replies. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. I think I just needed to get some rest. Between traveling and then going out last night, I think I was just over tired.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.” An awkward silence descends upon them, and Iris is unsure how to progress the conversation, but she can sense that Patty wants to say something further.

“Are you here by yourself?” Iris queries, intuitively determining that perhaps Patty’s odd behavior might have to do with Eddie’s conspicuous absence.

“You noticed, huh,” Patty bites out sardonically. “I’m supposed to be here with Eddie. In fact, Eddie is literally supposed to be here, because he’s hosting the night. But I waited for him for like thirty minutes in the lobby, and he never showed up, so I came here, thinking perhaps he’d forgotten to meet me— wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that —but he’s not here either. I’ve been calling him and texting him, but he’s being absolutely unresponsive.”

“You’re not worried, are you? Because I’m sure he’ll turn up. As you said, he is hosting this.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Patty says. “I asked at the concierge if they’d seen him, and they said he had stepped out earlier today. And that Katie was with him.” Iris’s eyebrows raise, as she takes in this information. For she now realizes that Katie is also not present, and after she and Eddie had acted so bizarrely around each other yesterday, it is not particularly surprising that there is more to that story.

“So, they’re likely not coming here tonight,” Iris concludes, and Patty shrugs,

“So much for being a great host. Anyways, how am I supposed to tell Cecile that her god son might not be attending the gala he’s throwing in her and her husband’s honor?”

“Just tell her the truth, but don’t make it seem like Eddie abandoned her. I mean, we honestly don’t know where he is or why he is so delayed, but he could still make an appearance later tonight, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Iris.” Iris nods, smiling reassuringly, as Patty heads over to Cecile who is standing a few feet away, chatting with one of the other guests. For a few moments, Iris is alone, as she mulls over Eddie and Katie’s absence, wondering what was so urgent that they had to leave right before Eddie was meant to begin hosting this gala for Joe and Cecile. Apart from his apparent inability to be a good host, it just seems so sudden, especially since Katie had been clearly trying to goad Eddie last night, by paying him no attention, and he had taken the bait with all his fuming and glowering.

A proffered glass of champagne enters her line of vision, and when Iris looks up, she sees Barry, handsome as ever in his tuxedo, holding the glass in front of her. His eyes are warm, conveying an abundance of emotions, and he’s smiling at her softly.

“Hi,” he says, almost a whisper.

“Hi,” she breathes, her voice also very quiet. They’re both gazing at each other, neither saying a word, before Barry lets out a small laugh, remembering himself.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, as if in absolute awe, and the way he says it, with such reverence, makes her heart soar.

“Thank you, Barry. You look very handsome.”

He blushes, ducking his head, slightly, before continuing, “Uh, this is… this for you. I wanted to save a glass for you, because it’s elderflower and… you know, I realize now that there’s a bar, which I’m sure is probably stocked, now that I think about it… yeah, I’m sure it is, but at the time, I thought they might run out of glasses of champagne, because it didn’t seem like they had too many left being passed around. But I definitely wasn’t thinking about the bar. So, well, this is… for you, if you want it, of course. Do you want it? Because I can take it back and then…”

“Yes, I want it,” Iris chuckles, interrupting his rambling, which she finds utterly endearing, as Barry nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Barry. I do love elderflower champagne.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers softly. There’s something in his voice at that moment… an emotion that Iris cannot quite pinpoint, but it nonetheless ignites an intense warmth within her, and when she glances up at him, he’s regarding her almost sadly, like he wants so very much to tell her something, but he is unable to. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he can tell her anything and everything that he wants, but before she can, he whispers, “You’re wearing the necklace.” Her hand comes up to touch the wedding band, and she nods, smiling,

“Of course, I am. My best friend gave it to me.” He breathes out harshly, taking a step closer towards her, reaching his hand towards hers, almost as if by instinct.

“Iris, I need—,” he begins, but he is cut off by Cisco and Cynthia racing up to the both of them, having just congratulated Joe and Cecile and chattering about Eddie Thawne’s absence, of all things. Iris has half a mind to stare them both down for interrupting her moment with Barry, but decides against it, because she knows they didn’t exactly mean to tumble in on a private moment. Barry, on the other hand, does not seem to agree with this sentiment, for he is shooting Cisco a dark look, although Cisco, thankfully, seems oblivious.

“Can you believe Eddie isn’t even here?” Cisco asks immediately, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

“I’m actually very surprised by him not turning up on time,” Cynthia replies. “I cannot imagine Eddie Thawne missing a gala that he, himself, is hosting. This is completely and utterly his element.”

“Katie isn’t here either. Apparently, she and Eddie went off somewhere earlier today and didn’t return. Patty told me,” Iris says, and Barry’s brow furrows at that, before he adds,

“I knew something was off between those two yesterday. It would maybe explain why the vibe was just completely off last night, like something just wasn’t adding up.” Iris catches Barry’s eye at that moment, and she feels her pulse race, upon the realization that Barry was apparently as completely befuddled and equally bemused about what was going on with Katie and Eddie as they all were. And that could only mean one thing, right?

“I think that much was obvious to all of us,” Cynthia replies, rolling her eyes. “Those two are a pair of absolute paragons of etiquette and normalcy when they’re around each other, aren’t they?” Everyone laughs at that, likely recalling the rather odd behavior both Katie and Eddie engaged in the previous night, which strengthens Iris’s resolve that perhaps she had been completely mistaken about what she had witnessed between Barry and Katie, although that betraying voice reminds her of the dinner at Marano’s, much to her chagrin. She is aware, though, that that is a question that needed answering. Eventually. Because at the moment she is certain that she wants to find that equilibrium again with Barry, before diving headlong into conversations that would likely change everything.

Quiet orchestral music begins to play, and a man steps up onto the mezzanine, gesturing with his hands towards Joe, Cecile, and the rest of the guests.

“I am the manager of the Time Metropolis. Mr. Thawne is unfortunately detained tonight, although he hopes to make an appearance later on. He asks that we host this night in his absence, and so if I could invite the guests of honor, Mr. West and Ms. Horton, and everyone else to please head to the ballroom, then we can officially commence the festivities.”

“Thank you,” Joe says, holding out his hand to Cecile. After she takes his hand, and the two of them begin to head down the double staircase to the rather ornate ballroom, apparently modeled after some Baroque-style palace, the rest of the guests follow. Iris can feel Barry’s eyes on her as they walk down the stairs, even though she is a few feet in front of him, and a feeling of great anticipation washes over her, as she ponders how the night might unfold.

As they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cynthia stumbles on the second to last step, and Iris lurches forward to steady her friend, but in doing so, she too loses her footing momentarily, and she thinks they might both end up tumbling down together, but just as she catches Cynthia’s arm, one hand comes around her waist, the other on the small of her back, preventing her from falling. Indeed, Cynthia is able to catch her balance, with Iris steadying her then, and she smiles gratefully up at Iris.

“Thanks,” she says, and Iris nods with a smile,

“Of course.” But her concentration is on the two hands holding her, for they’re Barry’s hands, and she is extremely aware of his touch against her bare back, his fingers gripping her gently, but firmly. She turns to look at him, just as he asks,

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Bear. You saved both of us from tumbling down stairs in our gowns,” she replies, chuckling slightly, as Cynthia smirks, watching both of them closely,

“Yes, of course Barry did.” Noticing Cynthia’s knowing look, Barry and Iris smile sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed, but Barry does not step away from Iris, still holding her, the imprint of his hands hot against her.

The live orchestra is situated near the end of the large ballroom, and the conductor raises her baton, signaling that the musicians are about to begin performing a piece. Cynthia quickly says,

“I’m going to go see if Cisco wants to dance. Bye!” Before she walks away towards Cisco who is already near the center of the room. Iris shakes her head fondly, before Barry asks,

“Do you… would you like to dance, Iris?” His tone is soft and full of longing, and Iris recognizes the gravity of this moment.

“I would love to,” she replies, her face shining with a number of emotions, and she is uninterested in attempting to mask everything that she is feeling. She wants Barry to know. He smiles, releasing his grasp around her waist and back, and holding out his hand to her, which she takes in her own. As his fingers enclose around hers, she shivers for a moment, not of any cold air, but rather because of the intensity with which she knows that she loves him.

They make their way slowly into the ballroom, where the orchestra is playing a sultry musical piece, and Barry’s left arm comes around Iris, his hand settling at her waist, while he holds her left hand in his right. Her free arm goes around his neck and for a few moments they simply sway in each other’s arms, gazing at each other. Barry leads her around the other couples, but Iris barely realizes that they are in a ballroom full of other people, for she feels, within his arms, as if they are the only two people in the world. His eyes do not leave hers for even a moment, and it is hard not to mistake what he’s feeling in that moment, for his emotions are visibly ablaze upon his face. She wonders then how she possibly could have misread one night, when there had been so many signs telling her that he feels in their most intense moments all that she feels, but she supposes that the tricky thing about loving her best friend was the debilitating fear that he may not feel the same way. The fear that if she voiced her feelings, she could lose the safe harbor of their friendship forever. But change is sometimes not only good, but imperative. And perhaps that is the most integral part of what they shared; their need to trust each other in order to fully realize that their friendship was perhaps never simply platonic ever.

Iris moves closer to Barry in his arms, as they continue to dance, laying her head against his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. She closes her eyes, savoring his touch, while Barry’s arm tightens around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head in a soft kiss. The music crescendos as they dance, coming to a natural end, and applause from the other couples erupt around them, but Barry and Iris, break apart only slightly, both of his hands now holding her waist, while his forehead comes to rest against her own. Iris’s hands slide up his chest, resting just below his bowtie, and they both breathe deeply, trying to mentally navigate what they are supposed to do next. It is apparent to Iris now that they cannot possibly put off the inevitable any further.

“We should talk,” she says, brushing her nose against his.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, dazed. She smiles, feeling his breath fanning against her lips, and realizes then just how physically proximate they are to one another.

“Privately, Bear,” she urges softly. He nods, seemingly coming back to his senses and registering that they are currently in a room full of other people. They move apart, slowly, his hands caressing her as he backs away, and Iris immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her.

“Right. I’m sure we can find somewhere private away from all of this. It’s a hotel after all.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. He grins lopsidedly at her, and without another word, he takes her hand and leads her out of the ballroom, and she wonders if anyone has noticed them, but finds herself not particularly caring if everyone is indeed watching their abrupt exit. Once they climb up the stairs and reach the mezzanine again, nodding politely towards a few members of the hotel staff milling about there, Barry looks around searchingly, and Iris is aware that he is trying to determine where they ought to go. She squeezes his hand, before saying, “Let’s just go to my room. Otherwise we’re going to be running around this whole hotel searching for a quiet place.” Barry lets out a breathy chuckle,

“Yeah, good idea, otherwise we’d be something like a pair of high school teenagers at prom, running around the venue for somewhere private.”

“We did miss out on prom, though. Together, I mean,” she replies wistfully. Perhaps there’s something distinctly poignant about her tone, because Barry pulls Iris closer to him, his hand settling gently at the base of her neck, and he’s regarding her, adoringly.

“But we did get our dance, even if it is thirteen years later.” She smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears,

“Yes, we did.” At that Barry drops his hand to hold hers once more, and he presses the call button for the elevator, and as they await the lift, all Iris can feel is both deep contentment and love.

When Iris enters her hotel room with Barry, it is with an internal sigh of relief, for the short journey from the mezzanine to the third floor of the Time Metropolis felt torturous, as they both were jittery with anticipation, but unable to truly voice anything until they were within the safety of a private room. Upon entering the room, Barry immediately begins pacing, while Iris busies herself by pouring them both glasses of water from a jug situated on the bedside table. She proffers one to Barry, and he stops fidgeting for a moment to take it.

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully, and they both sip from their glasses. Iris figures that she ought to convince Barry not to resume walking around the room, so she sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks off her heels. “You make it looks so graceful,” he sighs, coming to sit next to her, clutching his glass tightly.

“What do you mean?” she asks, and he turns, so that he’s facing her fully. Iris carefully places her hand over his, loosening his hold on his glass, hoping to help alleviate some of his nervous energy.

“Everything you do. It’s so graceful. So beautiful. I just…”

“Bear,” Iris starts, but Barry shakes his head quickly,

“You don’t have to say anything, Iris. I know that I messed up yesterday, but the truth is I’ve been messing things up for years now.”

“No, Barry, you haven’t,” Iris counters, while Barry puts his glass down on the floor beside his feet. Determining that they have now arrived at the point where all their cards are about to be laid out before them, Iris does the same with her own glass. When she places her now empty hands back on her lap, one of Barry’s hands encloses one of hers, gently prying her fingers open, so that her right palm is facing upwards, resting on her knee, before he interlocks her fingers with his. He brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, slowly, reverently. “Bear…” she whispers, but she is unsure what to say, recognizing that they are on a precipice of change.

“I owe you an explanation. I owe you so much more than that, but perhaps I can start with an explanation. But first, I am so sorry, Iris. About last night. I didn’t… I obviously was taken aback when I saw Katie again, and her over-friendliness was a source of confusion for me, but I guess I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with everything she was saying, but I shouldn’t have even let her say anything. And if I’d been unable to stop her, I should have shut down all of the absurd insinuations she was clearly trying to make. I was put on the spot, not that that’s an excuse, but when I saw you… when I saw your face, I knew I’d screwed up really badly. Because to see you look so upset and to know that I was the reason for it, I don’t… god, Iris, it felt like a knife to my chest, and all I could think about was how much of an absolute idiot I am,” Barry begins, speaking rapidly, voice trailing off at the end, and he’s looking at her so earnestly, as if the worst thing in the world to him is being the cause of even an ounce of her sadness, and goodness she just wants to take his face in her hands and tell him that he is her happiness. But she stops herself, because she knows they have to get through this conversation.

“Bear, I’m not upset or angry with you now. But I was, especially right after Katie said what she said, when we had had that moment in my room just hours before, when you came to give me this.” And here she picks up the wedding band sitting between her collar bones to emphasize her point. “It just felt like everything we had shared had been rendered insignificant in that moment. Like it was nothing. And then I thought I had maybe read the moment wrong, but whenever I go over what happened in my head, I know that you were feeling what I was in that moment.”

“You weren’t reading that moment wrong, Iris. Not for a second,” Barry says, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for just a moment. “We almost kissed in your room, and I… there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. And then Cynthia interrupted, which wasn’t her fault, obviously, but I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t extremely frustrated, especially because we seem to have been interrupted throughout our lives a countless number of times.” He chuckles ruefully then, but Iris’s breath hitches, as she mulls over his words, particularly, there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. If only she could ask him then how he truly feels about her. If only she could tell him how she truly feels about him.

“But what about the dinner at Marano’s?” she queries, instead, for that betraying voice in her head refuses to let her move past that. Surely, Katie did not completely make that up, for even if she was simply saying all that she did to get a rise out of Eddie, telling complete falsities seemed a step too far. And there was the added anxiety that Barry had not corrected her then.

“Yeah, yeah, that was… Katie completely mischaracterized that dinner. I know it was dinner at Marano’s, but what she failed to mention is that Matt, who’s her cousin, as you know, was there as well, and the whole thing came about, because Katie showed up when I was tutoring Matt, and Old Mrs. Rogers was adamant that we all go out to dinner. But she was feeling unwell, and nonetheless insisted that we go, and it was impossible to say no, especially because Matt really wanted to go. I’m… I should have set the record straight last night, because I knew what Katie was trying to imply, and she was completely wrong on that account,” Barry replies, all in one breath, and he looks so pained that he’d let this fester, without correcting Katie’s white lie immediately, but Iris lets out a soft laugh, then,

“If you could have seen the scenarios I’d somehow managed to cook up in my head… Looking back, I realize they were probably irrational, and I should have just asked you, myself, but I was devastated and angry, and I think I just needed time to myself at that moment.”

“Iris, I am so, so sorry. Just the thought that you’d been in any kind of pain, because of me… god, I’m such an idiot,” he says, his fists clenched on his lap, and his tense form causes Iris worry. She frames his face with her hands, caressing his cheek with her thumb, hoping to soothe him. She leans in to rest her forehead against his, and for a few moments, all Iris can hear is their breathing, as she feels some of the tension in Barry’s muscles dissipate.

“It’s okay, Barry. This is not your fault. We just both stumbled into a series of romantic mishaps, because of someone else’s lies. But we’re here now,” Iris soothes. Barry grins at that, fully relaxing then.

“Romantic mishaps, huh?” he teases gently. She moves away from him just slightly to look at him properly, chuckling,

“Would you characterize it otherwise?”

“Not at all. Especially because Cisco said that you and I have been constantly tumbling into romantic mishaps throughout our entire adult lives. I was so mad at him, both last night and today, because he kept saying that I couldn’t call you or text you… and you should have seen me today. I was oscillating between walking around like a zombie and ranting at Cisco about how he could put me through this. He wouldn’t budge, though, repeatedly telling me that I needed to give you a day’s worth of space and that I’d see you at the gala. And I was going out of my mind the entire day. But now,” he says, bringing his hands to her waist, slowly, tentatively. “I think maybe he was right.” Iris silently agrees, because despite her initial frustrations over Barry having not reached out to her today, Cisco was probably right in refusing to allow him to call or text her. They both clearly needed the day to work through their emotions by themselves.

“Well, Cisco is quite wise,” she remarks in response.

“Drove me insane today, but yeah, he has his moments,” Barry jokes, and Iris laughs. “God, I love your laugh.” Iris raises an eyebrow at that, as she simultaneously runs her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if relishing her touch.

“You love my laugh?” she asks in jest, but his expression becomes solemn, and he pulls her closer to him, his hands remaining on her waist.

“Always have. I remember,” he begins, slowly, carefully. “…When we first met. My mom had brought me to the playground when I was ten, and I’m pretty sure I was upset about the new move to Central City, so she probably took me there, so that I could blow off some steam. And I’d somehow managed to swing myself so aggressively that I’d tumbled headfirst into the dirt. I was so angry and annoyed, and I’m pretty sure about to start crying, but then there was this small hand…” At this, one of his hands release her waist, and he grasps her hand, intertwining their fingers. “…Reaching out to me. That was when I’d first met you, and you were smiling and asking if I was okay, and I’m sure I said something stupid, because I was kind of in awe. But you laughed and told me that I was funny, and I’m quite sure… no, I know that that was the moment that I fell absolutely in love with you, Iris. Or maybe it was a year later when my dad died, and you found me crying in a corner, hours after everyone had left, after they’d all come by to pay their condolences, and you stayed up all night with me, holding me. Looking back, I knew I loved you then. But when you’re a kid, you can’t truly fathom love, but I knew I had a total crush on you, and when I was about sixteen years old, I identified that what I felt for you was love. I was in love with my best friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, because I was so afraid that I would completely ruin our friendship. And yet, the years that have past since our childhood and young adulthood just strengthened my feelings. I’m more in love with you today than I was when we were children.” As Barry speaks, he holds absolutely nothing back, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Iris tells herself to steady her breathing. Because she is aware that if she is completely honest with herself, she has known that Barry reciprocates her feelings for a long time, but to have him tell her, to have him say that he’s in love with her… there is nothing that could prepare her for this moment.

“You’re incredible, Iris,” Barry continues. “I don’t think you even realize how amazing you are. You jump headlong into seeking the truth, with little care to your own safety, because you so innately believe in the importance of preserving justice and saving lives. You see the best in people, no matter what, but most of all you inspire people. I’ve told you time and again that you’re my hero, Iris West. But more than that, whenever I see you, it’s akin to coming home for me. I’ve struggled with the concept of home and where that might be for me, especially after my dad died when I was a kid, but I’ve realized that home is not a place. It never has been for me. Instead, it’s a person. It’s you. Whenever I need to get away from the rest of the world, my safety net is you. You’re whom I always run to. Because you’re my home, Iris, and you always have been. I love you deeply. And I promise that I’ll dedicate every day to loving you… if you’ll have me of course.” Tears spill from Iris’s eyes then, which Barry immediately catches with his thumbs, gently brushing them aside, as he cups her face. He’s smiling so widely at her, his own eyes glistening, and she finds herself contemplating how surreal this moment truly is.

“You really have quite a way with words, Barry Allen,” she says, her voice shaking, slightly.

“Only for you. You’re the storyteller, after all. I’m just the boy luck enough to love you,” he replies, and Iris’s heart soars, completely overwhelmed with love for the man sitting before her.

Then she begins,

“Well, I suppose I should tell you about the day that I am quite sure was a moment of exceptional clarity for me. We were in the eighth grade, and I was overworked as Editor of the Central City Junior High Gazette, because none of my fellow cub reporters were completing their articles on time. Unfortunately, not all fourteen-year-olds took their responsibilities as junior reporters in training as seriously as I did mine. It was nearing the end of the day, and I still was short two articles, and I was nearly in tears over the stress of the realization that I was going to need to cover two stories, myself, in a matter of twenty-four hours, because we needed to fill the page quota necessary for publication. The door of the classroom opened, and you enter, and I didn’t know what it was about seeing you then, but the moment I saw you, the dam broke, and I was sobbing. And you raced over and hugged me and asked me what was wrong, and when I told you, you simply said that we were going to find two stories to cover together and that you’d stay over at my place for the entire night, if you had to, helping me. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.

Because the truth is Barry, you are my rock. You’re always there for me no matter what, and I didn’t know then why I finally cried only when I saw you, but I know now. I felt safe to fully release my frustrations and anxieties, despite still being in school, because you were with me. Whether you’re entering Jitters to meet me or racing through the doors of the Citizen with Big Belly Burger take-out, I’m home the moment I see you. I love you, Barry. I love you so, so much, and I’m completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.” At the end of her declaration, Barry is gazing at her both lovingly and ardently, and he says,

“And I am totally yours.” With his hands still cupping her face, he surges forward and captures her lips with his, kissing her hungrily and passionately. This kiss is years in the making, and there is no easing into it, as Iris gasps into Barry’s mouth, her hands climbing up his chest, until one hand settles at the nape of his neck, while the other remains near his heart. She presses herself even closer, wanting to be as physically proximate to him as she can, and he evidently wants the same, for he secures one arm around her back, pulling her smoothly into his lap, until she’s straddling him underneath her long gown. There are vague warning bells in her head, reminding her that she might tear her dress, but she is hardly concerned about that, figuring that her dress can certainly weather a night of her finally kissing the love of her life.

Meanwhile, Barry’s hands have bunched up the skirt of Iris’s dress to her hips and are roaming the smooth skin of her now bare legs, and his mouth leaves hers and moves to the skin below her earlobe, before slowly kissing the side of her jaw and then her neck.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” he murmurs huskily, then.

“I think you might have,” she chuckles, breathlessly.

“Well you look absolutely beautiful,” he responds, before kissing her again, this time more languidly, taking his time to really explore her mouth. Iris responds, cupping his chin with one hand, equally enjoying his more relaxed kisses as she did his passionate kisses moments ago.

She then pulls away for a moment, and Barry groans, chasing her mouth, but instead she undoes his bowtie, with nimble fingers, and takes in his flushed lips, dilated pupils, and mussed up hair, and she’s sure she has never been more content than in this very moment.

“I love you,” she says, as he buries his head in her chest and mumbles something incoherent. “Bear?”

He turns his head to the side, so that she can hear him when he states, rather hoarsely,

“Iris, when I said I was yours, I meant it. Seriously, I’d literally do anything for you.” Iris smirks at that, maneuvering his head gently away from her chest, so that they were eye to eye, before replying,

“That could turn out to be a very dangerous statement, Barry Allen.” Barry grins, rising to the challenge.

“I’d be more than happy to indulge in a little danger where it involves Iris West,” he responds. Iris raises her eyebrows at that and brings her lips to Barry’s, coaxing his mouth open with hers. He wraps his arm tightly around her lower back, while his free hand dips under the hem of her gown, bunched up at her waist, brushing his fingers teasingly against the soft skin of her abdomen, while she runs one hand through his hair, as the other unbuttons his dress shirt. Her hips buck against his, as she caresses his bare chest with her thumb, soliciting a moan from him, which she quietens by deepening their kiss.

Barry lifts Iris, then, and in one movement lays her on the bed, as he hovers over her, before gently moving his lips from hers to trail soft kisses down the length of her neck. Just as he reaches her collarbone, there is a loud banging on their door, and Barry groans loudly, dropping his head to her chest. Iris sighs, running a hand through his hair, when a voice that most definitely belongs to Cisco yells out,

“Barry? Iris?”

“If we ignore him, do you think he’ll go away?” Barry mumbles, just as Cynthia says rather loudly,

“We know you two are in there, so don’t pretend you can’t hear us.” Barry audibly grumbles, while Iris chuckles,

“Baby, I admire you wanting to ignore those two, but I really don’t think they’re going to leave.” Barry lets out a puff of breath that fans against Iris’s skin, and he slowly rolls away from her, sitting up and placing a pillow in his lap, perhaps in an attempt to be discrete, although privately Iris knows that Cisco is absolutely going to comment gleefully on his friend’s state of disarray. Meanwhile, she gets up and adjusts her dress, so that it falls back over her legs and walks over to the vanity mirror, grabbing a make-up cloth to wipe off her now smudged lipstick. She’s quite sure that she’s already sporting love bites on her neck and shoulders, but she cannot seem to bring herself to care about concealing them.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s as presentable as she can possibly be, given the circumstances, she opens the door of her hotel room and sees Cisco and Cynthia standing by the threshold, both wearing similarly smug expressions.

“Iris!” Cisco says, clapping his hands together, dramatically, while Cynthia scrutinizes her, before asking,

“What’s that on your neck?” Although her tone suggests that this is no innocent question, and she’s simply trying to put Iris on the spot, Iris refuses to take the bait, instead querying,

“Are you two going to come in? I imagine you’re here to deliver urgent news.”

“Patience,” Cisco replies, jovially, as he enters the room and spots Barry, sitting on the edge of the bed. At this sight, Cisco seems positively gleeful. “Nice pillow, Barry.”

“You are an ass,” Barry mutters darkly, not bothering to greet his friend.

“Love you too, man. And by the way,” Cisco chuckles, throwing his arm around Iris. “It’s because of me that this happened.” He gestures between Barry and Iris. “Without me apparently putting Barry through absolute misery today, the two of you would have continued your decades long song and dance of refusing to acknowledge that you are madly in love with each other.” Iris shrugs off Cisco’s arm, rolling her eyes, fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Cisco,” she says.

“Mmhmm, forget West-Allen Matchmakers. I think Ramon and Sons, Experts in Match-Making is the real success story.”

“Is that so? Because I’m pretty sure the two of you have been clearly enjoying each other’s company, and Barry and I can definitely take some credit there,” Iris replies, raising an eyebrow, and Cisco blushes at that, tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ears.

“Well, for two people who apparently are champions at setting everyone else up, you sure took a ridiculously long time getting your respective acts together,” Cynthia retorts. At this, Iris saunters over to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Barry and leaning her chin on his shoulder, while he takes one of her hands in one of his.

“Maybe. But we’re here now,” Iris replies, as Barry kisses her forehead.

“Y’all are cute, I’ll admit,” Cisco says, and Cynthia smiles at the sight of them together.

“So why are you here?” Barry asks, stroking Iris’s knuckles with his thumb. In response, Cisco grabs a chair near the vanity and sits down, while Cynthia seats herself in a cushioned armchair by a round coffee table.

“So…,” Cisco begins, pausing for dramatic effect, although his anticipation is not reciprocated by either Barry and Iris, who do not prompt him. “Alright, so, guess who showed up just now, roughly halfway through the ball?” Cisco does not wait for an answer, however, the question apparently rhetorical. “That’s right. Eddie Thawne, accompanied by Katie Rogers. Their appearance so late in the game is not even the real crazy thing, because you’ll never guess what happened when they arrived. Okay, so the two of them show up, and they’re dressed for the occasion, and they head over to Cecile and Joe, where Eddie apologizes profusely, naturally, but then seems to reveal something to Cecile which makes her absolutely ecstatic. And she’s crying and hugging Eddie. Needless to say, we were all quite curious as to what could possibly be going on, but Eddie dispels the suspense quite quickly, when he and Katie head over towards the orchestra, and he abruptly stops the musicians and conductor, before taking a mic and claiming he has a big announcement.

He apologizes sincerely for being so late, but explains that he has a reason for being late, and this reason is that he has big news that will bring everyone at this ball great pleasure. And he proceeds to announce that he and Katie just eloped and got married.” At this, Barry and Iris exchange flabbergasted looks, before turning back to Cisco.

“Excuse me?” Iris says, as Barry’s brow furrows contemplatively.

“They got married,” Cisco repeats, shrugging his shoulders. “I know, I know. But that’s where they were today, apparently. Getting married. I’m ninety percent sure, though, that this was a decision made on the fly.”

“But they clearly were having some sort of argument yesterday that we all were not privy to.”

“Yep. I still don’t know what that’s all about, but I have a theory from talking to Katie afterwards. I obviously went up to congratulate them, because what the hell else are we supposed to do, and I was like, ‘Oh this is very nice and all, but this seems sudden.’ She was really cagey, but kind of let it slip that she was pissed that Eddie was keeping their romance a secret from his family, who wouldn’t approve of his involvement with her or some crap, so Katie had given him an ultimatum of her own that if he didn’t get serious with her, she was going to leave him. Guess that kicked his ass into gear.” Iris notices Barry watching Cisco closely, as he takes this in, nodding along. Cisco’s explanation appears to have given him some clarity on the situation.

“That makes sense,” Barry sighs, shaking his head. “I think I may have somehow ended up as the scapegoat, while Katie was trying to make a point to Eddie. But it’s just… god I’m such an idiot, because all the while, Iris was hurt by all this mess, and that is on me… I should have been clear about setting the record straight.”

“Hey, Bear, it’s okay,” Iris soothes. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Barry exclaims. “It does matter, because all of that hurt you, Iris. And it’s just… god, this is my fault, and…” But Iris has heard enough, and she grasps both his hands in her own.

“Barry,” she says firmly. “We’ve been over this. What happened last night was not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known about Katie and Eddie’s romantic drama. It seems like nobody knew that they were secretly dating.”

“You’re right,” Barry replies. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but just the mere thought of Katie’s callousness, by trying to insinuate what she did about me and her, all because she was trying to make Eddie jealous, having hurt you is so infuriating.”

“I love you,” Iris whispers, brushing her lips against Barry’s jaw, just as Cisco clears his throat loudly,

“Hey, I know y’all are in that insufferable, just got together officially phase and all, but we’re still here, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the story.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia interrupts, clearly fed up with Cisco’s prolonging. “Patty dumped a glass of wine over Eddie’s head.” Barry and Iris turn to each other, sharing a surprised look, as Iris observes,

“And here Barry and I were thinking that we’ve had our fair share of romantic mishaps. Seems as if we don’t really know what actual romantic mishaps encompass, after all.” Cisco, however, is clearly affronted that Cynthia had botched his story-telling,

“That’s not how you tell a story, Cyn. You have to ease into the best part to build up the anticipation.”

“Please, there’s no building up anticipation with Barry and Iris, other than them anticipating our departure.”

“True,” Barry says, chuckling. “And also, I know Eddie definitely didn’t deserve to get wine poured all over him, but that’s undoubtedly a sight that I’d have liked to witness.” Thus, Iris is reminded of one remaining mystery, namely the prickly nature of all of Barry and Eddie’s interactions that she has witnessed, so she inquires accordingly,

“By the way, Bear. Why do you dislike Eddie so much? I don’t recall you two having spent all that much time together to have developed animosity towards each other.” Barry’s eyes widen at that, and he resembles a deer caught in the headlights, which Iris, naturally, finds incredibly endearing.

“Oh my god, you never told her?” Cisco cuts in, looking positively maniacal at this discovery. Barry begins shaking his head frantically at Cisco, but his attempts at preventing his friend from talking are of no avail. “So, the first time Barry and Eddie crossed paths was at some garden party Cecile hosted, and you took Barry as your guest or something. I don’t know the details, because I only have secondhand information from Barry, but basically Eddie tried to insinuate that he might be interested in you to goad Barry, probably, because he, like everyone else except for you two, knew how you both felt about each other. Anyways, Barry had some really harsh words for Eddie, and since then the two of them can’t stand the sight of each other. Talk about the world’s fastest rivalry for no real, concrete reason.”

“I hate you,” Barry groans, burying his face in his hands, but Iris refuses to let Barry wallow in embarrassment, so she nudges him with her shoulder, leaning into him.

“I think you having… how did it Cisco put it?… Harsh words… is hot, Bear,” she says. He turns to her, with a small smile,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He cups her cheek with one hand, his fingers burying into her hair, and kisses her soundly.

“Ugh, okay, okay,” Cynthia interrupts, getting up. “We’re leaving. Have fun, you two.”

“See ya!” Cisco yells, as Cynthia takes his arm and pulls him to the door. “And remember, this is because of me. I’m the real matchmaker around here.” Once they exit the room, Cisco still chattering away, Barry releases an audible sigh of relief and mumbles,

“Thank god.” Iris laughs, leaning her forehead against his, closing her eyes, before stating,

“You do know that I was never interested in anyone but you, right? I could never really make it work with anyone else, because I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you.”

“I know. And I never could be interested in any other person other than you, not when you have always had my heart,” Barry replies, before continuing, “Also, just to clarify, Eddie and I don’t despise each other or anything; we’re just never going to be friends.”

“Mm, well, I don’t think you two will be seeing each other very often outside of occasional social gatherings.”

“Yeah.” They stay like that, foreheads resting together, taking comfort in each other’s arms, before Iris says,

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment.” Barry smiles widely at that, adjusting so that he’s holding her face in both of his hands.

“Iris, you have no idea how deeply happy you make me,” he whispers against her lips, his tone reverent as he acknowledges the depth of his love for her. “I love you. I love you so, very much.” A tear escapes him then, which Iris wipes away gently with her thumb, before pressing her lips to his, as she delights in the knowledge that he is hers to love and she is his to love for the rest of their lives.

One and a half years later

Iris sighs contentedly, leaning back against Barry’s chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. She is seated in his lap, like a bride (which, in fact, she is), her white tulle skirt fanning around both of them. All around her there seems to be a flurry of activity, as she assesses the myriad of guests in attendance at her wedding reception.

Wally and Linda are attempting to feed their baby twins, and despite their bemoaning that they cannot quite get this parenting thing down, they seem to be doing a wonderful job at soothing their agitated twins and getting them to eat some mashed foods, which they had brought with them in portable Tupperware. Every time Linda manages to feed a twin, Wally gives her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, which seems to highly amuse the babies, who giggle uncontrollably at this.

Her father, with whom she had recently danced the father-daughter dance, is regaling some folks with stories about when she was young and how he always knew she was going to grow into an absolute journalistic star. Usually, Iris would be embarrassed by her father’s bragging, but today she lets him sing her praises, for it is her big day after all. Cecile is chatting with friends at a table, and seated near her are Eddie and Katie Thawne, whom Cecile requested be invited, much to Barry’s chagrin, and who are also expecting a baby, as Katie is already sporting a baby bump. Patty is also in attendance, which Iris had initially worried might be awkward, given that there is a good chance that Patty would run into Eddie, but Patty recently reconnected with an old boyfriend, and she brought him as her date. Plus, Patty has managed to completely ignore the Thawnes, at least thus far. Cisco and Cynthia, who have been dating for over a year now, appear to be in their own little world together, heavily flirting with each other at their table. Caitlin and Ronnie are sitting next to Cisco and Cynthia, but they don’t seem particularly concerned with the other couple’s flirting, for they are preoccupied with entertaining their two-year-old daughter.

Allegra, Kamilla, and James are all laughing about something, and Iris is glad that they are enjoying themselves, for she knows that last week was a highly stressful time at the Citizen, because they had finally published a piece, on which all the Citizen’s reporters worked for weeks on end (now a team of nearly fifty reporters, for the amount of positive publicity that had resulted from the McCulloch Tech exposé had catapulted the Citizen into journalistic stardom, particularly after Iris had been awarded a Peabody Award and Kamilla a World Press Photo Award for their work on the article), exposing a massive eviction scam, which implicated three local politicians. So, Iris is grateful that the three reporters seem to be relaxed and happy, the stresses of last week hopefully dissipating. As for Kara, she appears to have discovered the scrumptious doughnut display near the dessert buffet and is evidently in heaven.

Iris’s Great-Aunt Esther sits at the head of the West family table, friendly, but reserved and still ever so beautiful. Barry and Iris are seated one table down from her, and when Great-Aunt Esther catches Iris’s eye, she winks at her favorite grand-niece, perhaps reinforcing the sentiment that she had voiced to Iris earlier that day that she is the happiest she could ever be to see her dearest grand-niece marry the love of her life.

“Your Mama, My Francine… she would be so proud of the woman you have become,” Great-Aunt Esther tells Iris right before Joe arrives to walk her down the aisle. Tears roll down Iris’s cheeks, as her Great-Aunt gathers her into her arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I miss her so, so much. Every single day,” Iris whispers.

“She is always, always with you.”

The memory from this morning is one Iris knows she will cherish deeply, but while she relives that moment, she notices that there now appears to be trouble, for Barry’s mother, Nora, joins Joe, and they both start telling the tale of how they knew Barry and Iris were always going to get married from the moment they witnessed the two interact as young children. Surely, the two of them would somehow manage to recount the numerous occasions on which Barry and Iris play-acted getting married as children, usually with a stuffed dinosaur presiding.

“When Barry came home from the playground that day after meeting Iris,” Nora says loudly, “He went running up to his dad and said, ‘Dad! I met the most beautiful girl in the world today. I think I want to marry her.’ And my late husband said, ‘Well, slugger, love is about reciprocity. Focus on getting to know her. And who knows, maybe one day, we’ll be attending yours and Iris’s wedding.’ And here we are.” Upon hearing his mother retell this particular story, Barry drops his forehead to Iris’s shoulder, groaning quietly, so that only she can here.

“It’s bad already, and they’re just getting started,” Barry mutters, kissing his wife’s shoulder. “I think we should make our great escape right about now.” Iris smiles, running a hand through Barry’s hair, as she feels Barry’s lips move upward, slowly beginning to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

“Bear, if you’re trying to get me to agree to leave with you right now…” Iris whispers, attempting to maneuver herself discreetly so that the guests cannot see her husband kissing her neck.

“Is it working?” Barry asks, looking up at her and smiling.

“You know it is,” she sighs, and he appears supremely smug at that. “But we do have to stick around for a while longer, after all this is our wedding reception. We can’t just cut out early.” Barry mumbles his half-hearted assent, although he seems unconvinced, before caressing his fingers against Iris’s arm, gazing at her, suddenly contemplative. “What is it?” she queries, softly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re here, finally, at our wedding reception. I think it really only hit me that I’m marrying you when I saw you walk down the aisle, and you are so, so beautiful and amazing and wonderful, and I realized that I’m truly lucky enough to marry the girl of my dreams,” Barry replies, and Iris frames his face with her hands, leaning forward gently, so her forehead rests against his.

“Those tears were real huh?” she teases, gently. Barry chuckles, and because they are so closely pressed together, she feels the reverberations of his laugh against her own chest.

“Completely real.”

“So were mine,” Iris says, her lips just a hair’s length away from his. “Because just as it was overwhelming for you to watch me walking down the aisle, I was incredibly overwhelmed with happiness and love seeing you standing at the end of the aisle, looking so dapper, and knowing that I finally get to marry the love of my life, who is the most amazing man that I know.” Barry’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, touched by her words, and he brushes his nose against Iris’s, murmuring against her lips,

“I love you, Mrs. West-Allen.” Iris responds by kissing him once gently, and they are silent for a few moments, foreheads still touching, and contemplating the depth of their love for one another. Then, Barry shakes his head fondly and remarks, jokingly,

“You and I are complete saps.”

“Eloquent saps,” Iris corrects, laughing. “But that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

“Mm, true,” Barry says, taking her hand in his own and bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her fingers one by one. “I love you so much, Iris.”

“I love you,” Iris replies, before her expression becomes more mischievous. “It’s a shame we don’t have balloons at our reception.”

“Why? Were you planning on wrangling some into our car? Personally, I’d be game. I only got to witness you successfully fit those balloons into your car last time, an admirable feat, I might add.” Iris shakes her head fondly, feigning mild exasperation, while Barry laughs.

“Spoken like someone who has never had the view from his rear mirror constantly marred by inflated balloons,” Iris sighs. “And so no, I do not want to attempt to take any inflated balloons with us in a car, but I guess I was just feeling slightly nostalgic, because it was at my dad and Cecile’s wedding reception that I think I realized that I’ve always been in love with you.” Iris looks down at their intertwined hands, while Barry’s gaze becomes solemn, then, as he tucks an errant strand of hair that had come undone from her elaborate bun behind her ear.

“Well, that was also the night I first really told you how I felt,” Barry replies, and Iris glances up at him, surprised. “Yeah. Do you remember when I said that something incredible has always been in front of me, and I just really should throw caution to the wind?”

“I remember. You were talking about me. About us,” Iris whispers, and Barry nods, caressing her cheek gently, his touch warm and comforting against her skin.

“Yeah. I guess that was one of the many times I really came close to spilling my heart out to you, but Linda was also there, and I figured your dad’s wedding reception probably wasn’t a good place to tell you how I feel. Although I do think the spirit of weddings prompted that particular confession that night.”

“It’s silly now, looking back, but I remember thinking that you were talking about someone else at the time, and that’s when I truly realized that I am absolutely in love with you and have been for years.”

“I know that was all cleared up quite quickly, but I could never have been ever talking about anyone else,” Barry says, and Iris smiles, turning her face into his hand and placing a soft kiss on his palm.

“I know, Bear,” she replies, but from his expression, she can sense his adamancy about providing abundant clarity.

“It only has ever been you, Iris. It only has ever been you,” he whispers, and she lays her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her palm, before murmuring,

“And you’re the only one. You’ve always been the only one. And you and I have the rest of our lives to tell each other every day.” Barry adjusts, so that she is completely encircled by his arms, while he presses his lips to the crown of her head, as she, in turn, wraps her arm snugly around his waist.

“The rest of our lives,” he echoes, as his arms tighten around her. Iris smiles, glancing up at Barry, and remarks,

“Sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?” And he grins widely, bending his head towards hers and whispering,

“Absolutely incredible,” against her lips, before kissing her soundly.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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ms-march · 3 years

Text

Lead me to the Garden

So I got this originally as a prompt several weeks ago by @anahiranz from the Eye for an Eye playlist prompts list and the quote was "we were so very wild and free" and while I was not able to use all of the quote exactly, I did incorporate it in the piece! While it was probably intended for Thadrienne, I had this John and Adrienne scene from the wedding weeks sitting in my notes app for so long and I could not even stop outthinking about it. Thank you to @tallmadgeandtea and @culper-spymaster for beta reading! If you liked it PLEASE give it a like, comment, and/or reblog!

John finally spoke, “You know I feel horrible about this.” Adrienne snorted, incredibly unladylike, moving around him and wedging herself between him and the railing.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest. She paused, allowing him to wrap an arm around her before she spoke, “So you waited till now to get cold feet?”

John just laughed, his chest shaking her as he laughed. He replied, speaking quietly, “No, I feel horrible taking you from him- your father, I mean. He loves you so much, and I barely know you. It feels like some kind of cruel joke.”

“Well,” Adrienne smiled against his waistcoat, “I, for one, have no regrets for taking you from your father.”

It was John’s turn to release a very un-genteel snort of his own, wrapping a single arm around her petite figure and planting a single hand squarely in the middle of her back to keep her in place before replying. “I do not think that stealing me away from my father is possible. Trust me, I went all the way to London to try.”

Adrienne hummed in agreement, grumbling about the man in her reply. “He is a rather miserable fellow. And, if you would permit me to say, a bit….”

“Perverted? Slimy? A thorough ass?”

“I was going to say discomforting.”

The pair broke out in a peal of happy laughter at their own jokes, all made at the expense of Henry Laurens, for several moments before they were once more rudely interrupted by the silence.

“What about your mother?” It was not a question Adrienne would have dared to ask a week ago. She would never presume that she was close enough to him to be privy to such private knowledge, but it had been eating at her all week. His mother was named Eleanor. She had discovered that while being in the wrong place at the right time.

That was the kinder way to say she had been eavesdropping on Henry Laurens a few days prior.

Adrienne had so many questions. How did she pass? Why did they never speak of her? Did John favor her or his father more in character or appearance? She had so many questions about Eleanor Laurens, and it had been driving her mad for the past week.

So she had asked.

She did not wish to bombard him with all of her questions, not at once. That would only ensure that she did not receive an answer to a single one of them. No, she couldn’t ask it all, so she settled for asking a question about nothing at all. What about his mother?

He was a mama’s boy. That much was evident by the softened look in his eyes and the melancholic smile that graced his face at the mere mention of her. Good, that was good.

“What about her?”

Well, that certainly had not been the answer Adrienne had been expecting to pass from his lips, but she still faulted herself for being surprised. Of course, he would want to evade her question; he had done well covering the coveted memories with his mother from the bald eye, and he was not to stop now. Besides, Adrienne could hardly make a claim of being privy to such personal information.

But it was eating her alive.

She just had to know.

“Anything really,” Was her reply. She had so many questions and not a single clue as to an answer to them. Adrienne would take anything he would give her. “I do not know a thing about her, none beside her name.”

“She was beautiful.”

There was a long pause after his wispy words that almost made her think that he had told her all he was willing to share, but just as she prepared to drop the subject and be consumed by the silence once more, he continued. “She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her hair… Well, I am no student of poetry, Miss Fairfax, so I am afraid I haven’t a poetic comparison to give you, but it was a beautiful golden color. It had streaks of honey and even a few light brown in it, but you could never tell they were different from the rest of her hair unless you got close enough.”

He had paused again, looking out over the railing as he had been before, but this was somehow different. She could not place it precisely, but Adrienne knew better than to interrupt him. She shifted on her feet in his arms, letting out a small yelp in surprise when he suddenly lifted her to sit on the railing, placing the hand that had not been holding her before on her waist as he propped himself up with the other.

“I cannot figure out for the life of me if she would have liked you or not.”

Adrienne was not sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult, but decided to keep her mouth shut, merely tilting her chin up to look at him, encouraging him to continue with that happily curious smile of hers. “And why,” his eyes dropped to hers at the suddenness of her words as they interrupted his previously silent space, “is that?”

He continued to look at her eyes with quite a quiet intensity that she had become familiar with in the past week before a slight toothy grin spread on his face. “Well, she would have been mortified by such an attraction as this,” he nodded vaguely at the property Belvoir sat on as he spoke, “She was always saying that Mepkin was like an out-of-place monument to material among the natural beauty of the Carolinas. She would have called this a palace. And she would have been mortified by how strictly grown the gardens are.”

“She did not enjoy such things? Even for the sake of the visual beauty?” Adrienne could not help but let the questions slip from her lips and found that she only slightly regretted asking because, much to her surprise, they were met with an answer and an eager one at that. She could see it clear as day in his baby blues, or ought she to say Carolina blues?

“She loved nature as it belonged,” was John’s reply, continuing more with that same smile on his lips, “It was my father’s wedding gift to her. 100 acres around the house to do whatever she pleased with. I think just about everything that could possibly grow in the Carolinas can be found there.”

“And my gardens are a testament to who I am as an individual?” She had meant it as a jest, she really had, but he had other plans in mind for the comment, cupping the hand he had been propping himself up with on the side of her face.

“Yes,” he replied, not noticing just how hard she was trying to regulate her breathing at the soft touch of his bare hand on her cheek. “It says a good deal as a testament to your character.”

Adrienne was not sure why this had affected her constitution so greatly, sinking her heart in her chest as he uttered the words. “Then she would not have liked me?”

Perhaps it had upset her because she rather believed him to favor his mother. The heart in her chest was outweighed by the stone in her stomach, and, were she a weaker-willed woman, there might have been tears sparkling in her eyes. Adrienne, however, would not be moved to tears when she was not entirely confident why she was crying.

“No,” he said tenderly, wickedly interrupting her silence, “I rather think she would have considered it quite a complementary recommendation.”

“She would?”

Who could blame her for being startled at such a sudden change?

“The neat rows of manicured hedge, monuments to towering statues and fountains of marble, and the piles of pure bloom flowers..” he hesitated before continuing, not stopping his tender study of her face, “They are certainly a spectacle, but they are warm. For some reason.”

She understood him immediately. Belvoir was always warm to Adrienne.

The imposing facade, elaborate decor, and imported marble floors were intimidating to most of the guests. It was designed for such an effect. The house was, by the family’s station, public grounds. But William Fairfax made sure that those who entered knew deep down it was not theirs.

Everyone except for John.

Belvoir was always warm to Adrienne, and eventually, it would belong to John.

And it was warm to him.

“And what does that say about me?” It came out as a hushed whisper, not wanting to disturb him when he was so close to her as if any louder might have caused him to rear her off the balcony railing.

“Is it not obvious?”

What kind of answer even was that? Adrienne was not sure to proceed in her questioning, as she did suppose that she could make sense of his comments on her own if she tried, but something in her wanted nothing more than to hear him say it. She wanted it, quite frankly, to pass through his lips rather than be developed in her own mind.

Thankfully, she did have to ask him for such. John took her lack of speech as ignorance and continued. Unfortunately, his continued speech meant a finger— a thumb, to be precise— caressed her cheek as he spoke, “Because somewhere, underneath this beautiful facade, I believe you have a heart.” She laughed suddenly at the solemn tone that accompanied the statement, bringing a smile to his face and humor to his tone as he defended himself. “I am serious! You pretend to be all formalities and— what’s that phrase you just used… the...ah, yes— “visual beauty” I believe that, somewhere, locked away, you have an extraordinarily warm and tender heart.”

“I would not particularly hold your breath for that.”

John had a quite unusual laugh, Adrienne had never paid it any attention till now, and it came from so deep within him it seemed to be a part of his very nature of being. It was oddly warming and made her want to smile to join in his joy. And oh, oh he had called her beautiful, of all things.

“And she jests!” He exclaimed with a grand flourish, lifting her off the railing and giving her a short spin through the air before placing her into the crook of his arm to hold her near him.

Adrienne might never get used to how he looked out of uniform.

She might never become used to it, but, oh, did she love it.

He had called her beautiful.

He had called her beautiful and held her to him as a man and wife ought to be, and, oh, did she love it. For just a moment, they were alone on a beautiful marble balcony, and just for a moment, the two were so at ease.

And for just a moment, they were so very young and wild, free of the burdens of station for a mere moment on that marble balcony.

#lbl #luck be a lady #turn amc #turn: washington's spies #adrienne fairfax #john laurens #henry laurens #william fairfax #turnfic #turn fanfiction #eleanor laurens #prompts and drabbles

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thelifeofprettycommitteealpha · 3 years

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How to Act Like Massie Block

Steps

We'll start with attitude, by far the most important aspect of being like Massie Block. If you only take one thing from this, remember that you must always show, radiate, and have CONFIDENCE! This means not pointing out your flaws to others, (ex: "My hair is so frizzy today!" or "Is this top cute? 'Cause I'm not sure...") having good posture and always looking straight ahead, (never at the ground) and not ever letting people know when you feel unsure of yourself or your opinions. Never appear to be upset. Don't cry or make comments about how "your life sucks." You must always make it seem as if you have everything together, and that your life is perfect, or else people will never idolize you. Even if you're majorly embarrassed about something, you have to just laugh it off and forget it (don't make it a big deal). You can never show weakness!

Another crucial part of your Massie transformation is looking the part. Massie is gorgeous. She has straight, extremely shiny brunette hair, about shoulder length, sparkling amber eyes, and perfect skin. You don't have to look exactly like this, (always choose the look that works best on you) but you must always appear your best.

Without a fabulous wardrobe, Massie would be nothing. Be a true fashionista and wear expensive clothes from stores/designers like BCBG, Coach, Juicy Couture, Ralph Lauren, Seven For All Mankind, Guess, Lacoste, C&C California, Marc Jacobs, Joie, True Religion, etc. Always dress to impress! Never leave the house in sweats and a T-shirt (unless they're Juicy!). Even if you can't afford uber-expensive clothes, make sure to always look pulled together and stylish, with coordinated accessories and cute shoes. Don't tell anyone where you got your cheaper clothes unless you have a social death wish! A final note on inexpensive clothes: don't ever wear anything that looks cheap. This means don't go for the Wal-Mart or Target look when you can be buying low-priced (and way cuter) clothing from Forever 21 or Wet Seal. Oh, and no too tight/too big tacky clothing please. Wear stuff that fits you and looks good. Not sure? Get a second opinion. Make sure your underwear/bras are cute, too, from stores like Victoria's Secret or underglam.com. Trust me, people do notice in the locker room when you're changing. Never wear the same outfit more than once every two weeks or more: if you double up, people will think that you are thrifty and don't have very many clothes...and we wouldn't want them to think that, would we? No.

Massie is the queen bee. Popular. Worshipped. And how does she do this? By looking fabulous, having the right attitude, and establishing her dominance by using intimidation. Get together a clique of the prettiest and most fashionable girls in the school, 3-4 others. Make sure you are their leader. Your beta (second in command) should be the most loyal. The other girls should also be loyal and reliable; make sure you have at least one nice-ish girl to keep the peace in your clique. If you don't all get along, you will never rule. It's all about unity. This doesn't mean you can't boss them around though--it's what Massie would do! Test the waters by starting off really nice, then gradually getting a bit harsher. If they stick with you, you'll know you have 'em forever. Lighten up a bit if they start to stray. Make sure people are somewhat scared/intimidated by you, so that you know they'll do whatever you want. Be totally snobby to the losers at your school (a.k.a. basically everyone outside your group). Chances are, you'll be so fabulous by then, it will only make them idolize you more.

You must be thin to maintain your social status! This means very little or no fatty/sugary foods like chips, soda, candy, fried chicken, pizza, etc. It's a tough sacrifice to make, but well worth it in the long run! Work out regularly on a treadmill, doing crunches, squats, or playing the specified sports below. Chew sugarless gum. Never be too skinny or develop an eating disorder. Not only will many rumors be circulated about you, but you could even die from it!

Get super shiny hair by using shine shampoo, (such as Citré Shine or Brilliant Brunette Shine-Release) shine serum or spray, (know your limit--don't use too much or your hair will look greasy) and rinsing out your conditioner with cool water (as cold as you can stand it!). Straighten your hair with a good-quality flat iron and consult hair magazines or a hair stylist to find the best cut for your face (but never shorter than shoulder length!).

If you desire brown eyes, (and you don't have 'em) experiment with color contacts.

Achieve your best skin by washing your face morning and night with a good cleanser (Clean & Clear works great) and exfoliating and moisturizing daily. If you have dry skin, wash your face once per day and use more moisturizer; if you have more oily skin, skip the moisturizer. When you're drying your face, remember to pat, not rub, (rubbing pulls the skin and causes wrinkles). If you have bad acne that cannot be fixed by this skincare regimen, see a dermatologist.

Now for make-up...it can do so much for your face, turning you from plain to perfect in a matter of minutes. But be careful not to wear too much--you want to be like Massie, not Nina! Wear an eyeshadow in a natural color like brown, gold, or beige, (or whatever subtle color compliments your eye color) thinly line your eyes with a black or brown eyeliner, add a coat or two of blackish-brown mascara, and conceal all of your blemishes with the right shade and amount of concealer. It's also very important to remember your lip gloss--Massie would never leave home without hers! Buy a variety of different good-smelling flavors and bring them everywhere you go.

Make sure your teeth are bright-white and perfect. If your teeth are crooked, use "Invisiline" rather than getting braces (a lot more attractive!). Whiten your teeth with laser procedures or Crest Whitestrips. Brush at least twice a day with whitening toothpaste, and remember to floss!

Tips

Get a super cute dog (the smaller the better) such as a Chihuahua or a Pug, in black, light brown, or honey color (they're the cutest). You can also get a kitty; they're ah-dorable, too. Tell your pet everything, (yes, you can talk to her about your insecurities!) and love her as your child. Dress her in the cutest fashions, (this works best if you have a dog) and take her on walks in the evening with your Louis Vuitton leash.

Use words like "ah-mazing," "ah-dorable," and "ah-nnoying". Say "ehmagawd!" when you're shocked, surprised, or excited about something. When something is well-known and "ah-bvious" to you, say, "Given!". When you have the same opinion as someone, say, "Ah-greed". When something someone says strikes you as reasonable, say, "Point!" and draw an imaginary "1" with your finger if you desire.

Have the best and biggest room. Go with Massie and have everything be white, no exceptions! Make sure you have a queen-size bed, (you are one, right?) an Apple computer, a giant walk-in closet to store all your ah-mazing clothes, and a leather chaise by your bay window to have long phone conversations and brush your pet before going to bed. Vanilla scented candles are a nice touch, too. Have everyone refer to your room as the "iPad".

Sports are luh-ame unless they are something classy and don't involve getting dirty like Tennis, Horse-back Riding, or Volleyball. And shopping, of course!

Purple is the official color of royalty. Therefore it's your favorite color. Wear it, love it, decorate everything from books and pens to your cell phone with it (purple rhinestones, of course!).

Speaking of cell phones, you need one! It's the perfect way to stay updated on gossip and keep in contact with your friends. Make sure you have a texting plan so that you your clique can silently dish about stuff in class, detention, wherever! Cover it in Swarovski crystals and bring it everywhere you go.

Get together a carpool with your clique. Taking the bus is so ew!

Wear a charm bracelet with charms such as a shoe, Eiffel Tower, dog or cat, (whichever you have) star, and most importantly, a crystal-encrusted crown! Make sure the charm bracelet is gold, and never have any of the charms be silver (tacky much?). Buy it from Tiffany if you have the money.

Always have your fingernails and toenails perfectly manicured! I highly suggest a french tip for fingernails, because it coordinates so well with everything. Have them done at a fancy salon with your clique afterschool or on a weekend for a fun activity.

Throw a fabulous party to increase your popularity. Invite everyone.

You must always be prepared with a witty comeback for if, on some rare occasion, a wannabe insults you. One of my favorite Massie-style ones is, "Did I invite you to my barbecue?...Then why are you all up in my GRILL?" Consult the Clique books for some other great ones, or make some up yourself. Never let anyone get the best of you or think that they have won. Remember that YOU are in charge. YOU make the rules.

It helps to have an AIM account, or MSN, you'll need it to keep in touch with you friends one-on-one!

The magazines Teen Vogue, ElleGirl, and Lucky are your bible. Read them religiously(but not in a creepy way...)

Warnings

Be prepared to receive some backlash from the people that wish they were you. In other words, the jealous people. They may spread some pretty nasty stuff about you, but respond with something positively catty (your beta will help) to show them who's really the boss.

There may be occasions where controversy arises in your clique. Like a power-trip, where a girl in your clique suddenly wants the throne. Start by putting her in her place by telling her off in the hallway (preferably with many people around). If she still doesn't get the hint, kick her out the group and recruit someone new. Chances are, she'll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. Let her back in after a little while, and ditch the temporary.

Many people will probably think you're a mean person. But they'll still love you, and wish they were just like you (they'll love to hate you). This is inevitable if you want to be on top like Massie. You'll get used to it.

#lifestyle tips #beauty tips

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heartofether · 3 years

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The Vast & Starlit Special: Part One - The Scandals of Atticus Ashfield TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

VAL

Hey, Val here. Just wanted to do a quick little introduction for our three-part Vast & Starlit special. This is going to be our last little bit of bonus content before season two officially begins on August 13th. We talk about this in the episode, but if you would like to find more information about the game we’re playing, you can find a link in the episode description. Thank you so much for all of the support, and enjoy our Vast & Starlit special!

[MUSIC PLAYS FOR A FEW SECONDS BEFORE SLOWLY FADING OUT.]

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Well, that went well. It’ll be fine.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] All is well.

LUKA

Everything is okay.

JESSE

[OVERLAPPING, IN A BRITISH ACCENT] Alright.

LUKA

Alright, so I guess, let’s get into it!

VAL

Cheers!

LUKA

Should we introduce ourselves?

JESSE

I feel like we should.

VAL

I think that’s probably good.

LUKA

It’s weird to like, talk, and be like, “Oh, hey besties.”

JESSE

“Hey.”

[LOTS OF UNCLEAR, OVERLAPPING CHATTER AND STUTTERING FOR A MOMENT.]

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] “Greetings, besties.”

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Uh, a lot of times, what I do think is funny is we’ll, like, do bonus content, and then say spoilers, and Val will just beep it out in recording. So I was going to introduce myself and the character I play, and I do think you guys can still do that.

LAUREN

Okay.

VAL

Yeah, and then I’ll just censor it out. It’ll be like, “Hi, I play—”

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Because it’s a funny joke to me.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Val, if you—I don’t know if you want to start.

VAL

Um, yeah, I can start. My name is Val, I’m the writer and producer of The Heart of Ether. I also voice Rosemary Quinn. What else are we saying about ourselves? Is this just—do we wanna throw in a fun fact—?

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Um, I would just—sure, if you want.

VAL

[LAUGHING] Oh, I don’t have any fun facts, so.

Everything I own is mushroom-themed. Because, according to my parents, that’s my only interest.

LUKA

They’re not wrong.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Um, hello! I am Luka Miller. I play Irene Gray. I did not prepare a fun fact, but I guess I will say that Irene’s Instagram fun fact is a personal attack on me.

[LAUGHTER.]

JES

Oh.

LAUREN

Oh? Okay.

LUKA

I don’t—it wasn’t intentional, but it is. [THEY LAUGH.]

We have two new guests!

[A FEW SECONDS OF EVERYONE INTERMITTENTLY GOING “OOH!” IN INTERESTED TONES, THEN LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Jes, would you like to go first?

JESSE

[STUTTERING] Alright, okay. Uh, well, I’m Jesse Smith. I played Dr. Michaels in season one, and I will be playing [CENSORED BEEP]. And my fun fact, [A BEAT.] I’m currently dressed like a pirate.

VAL

Jes is the only one who dressed up for this. I didn’t—I didn’t know we were dressing up for today.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

LAUREN

[STUTTERING] I wish—I didn’t commit to the bit. That’s hard.

VAL

It’s okay.

LAUREN

Um, well, I guess that leaves me! Hi, I’m Lauren Tucker. I was not on season one of The Heart of Ether, but I will be playing [CENSORED BEEP] in season two.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

LAUREN

Big fan of the show, really, that’s [STUTTERING] that’s my fun fact, actually, is that I am the number one Heart of Ether stan. And, I get typecast as [CENSORED BEEP.] And I love it, so.

[LAUGHTER, THEN OVERLAPPING, UNCLEAR TALKING FOR A SECOND.]

LAUREN

You can tell I’ve never done, like, non-scripted for audio before, so this should be interesting.

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Yeah.

VAL

Very fun.

LUKA

Yeah, this will be very interesting. Very excited.

[IN A BRITISH ACCENT] So, I suppose I will lead us—oh no, it’s coming out.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

I was going to try really hard not to default into, like, the bad British accent.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] The Incident Report, it’s already happening.

[MORE LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Okay, well, I will introduce the game we are playing, I suppose.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] Cheers!

LUKA

So, today we are playing Vast & Starlit by Epidiah Ravachol, I hope that I said that right. Okay, um, basically, we are all escaped convicts, and we’ve stolen this ship.

LAUREN

Oh. Wild.

JESSE

Oh, we stole the ship?

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER AND CHATTER.]

LAUREN

Interesting.

JESSE

I thought this was a prison.

VAL

We were in prison.

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] No no no, we’re runnin’ away from prison!

VAL

Yeah.

LUKA

So we have all done crime.

JESSE

Okay.

LAUREN

Oh, that works perfectly well.

LUKA

Yes. So, this is mostly an improv-based game. We all have made characters. And the other thing is there—[STUTTERING] I am taking on the role of “GM.” That’s not a very strict role.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

I am here to move the story along. I also have a character. Very excited about it. Um, but I guess we can just kind of get into introducing our characters first, and we have a few questions that we have to ask each other. And then we get to design our ship a little bit. And then we will get going, and we will end up playing out some scenes together until the vibes signal that we are done.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Uh, so I don’t know who wants to introduce their character first.

VAL

Do you wanna go first, Luka? Just to give an example?

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] I can.

VAL

[STUTTERING] ‘Cause you know the most about this game.

LUKA

Also, we can do questions as we introduce our characters, so I guess I can go over that first.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] Okay.

LUKA

And then I can go first, and we can just go with me as an example. So, we have character questions we get to ask each other after we have been introduced. One of them needs to be off of this list. I’m just going to say it, and if you need a reminder, I’ll say it again. But, we have to ask each other at least one of these three: “What are you willing to do to be captain?”, “How would we be better off if you led?”, and “What do we lose by not listening to you?”

However, the other four questions can be anything.

LAUREN

Anything?

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] They are just—yes, anything.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Yes, anything. Anything about your character. And like, I’ll say this: I’ll give you my description, you can be like, “Where’d you get that scar?” And I’ll have to answer you.

LAUREN

Oh, I’m so excited.

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] You get to choose things for me.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

So, I guess I will introduce my character, and we will go through the first round of questions.

So, my character is named Atticus Ashfield. [THEN, QUIETER] We don’t need to get into it. I understand they sound like X-character that is unreleased from Micro-Cosmos. We don’t need to talk about it.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Um, so, basically, Atticus Ashfield had a nice, nice, comfy radio career. You know, they’re chilling, they’re chilling. But then one day, they got a little too enthusiastic doing this bit about setting off fireworks in a library, and they did get arrested. ‘Cause people were like, “Oh, maybe—this doesn’t sound like someone doing a bit. This sounds like someone who’s planning to set off fireworks in the most treasured library on this planet.” So they were preemptively arrested.

Um, some more fun facts about them. I don’t actually remember what the thought process behind this was, but I’m gonna read it off the document. It says that they are a fish descendant, and they look like Gill from Monster High, but green and without the helmet.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

I don’t remember writing that, but I do think it’s important.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] Uh-huh?

LUKA

So. Yeah.

VAL

Yeah. Alright, um.

LUKA

I guess we can go in a circle.

[LAUGHTER.]

VAL

Alright, um, what are the mandatory questions again?

LUKA

One of them has to be, “What are you willing to do to be captain?”, “How would we be better off if you led?”, or “What do we lose by not listening to you?”

VAL

Okay, I’ll go—I’ll go first. Um, what do we lose by not listening to you?

LUKA

Oh, should I respond in like, the weird voice I’m gonna do?

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] Yes.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] Yeah.

LUKA

Yeah, why not?

ATTICUS

[WITH AN ENERGETIC SPEAKING VOICE] Well I mean, honestly, probably not a whole lot, but I am charismatic, so you’ll lose a little bit of entertainment.

VAL

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] It sounds like Will Wood.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Thank you. I do my best.

JESSE

[OVERLAPPING] Okay, well, what happened to the orphans?

[LAUGHTER.]

ATTICUS

[IRRITATED] I did a good solid report on those, and no one needs to know what happened afterwards. What I do in my spare time is my business.

[LAUGHTER.]

JESSE

The blank stare.

[MORE LAUGHTER.]

LAUREN

Question, um, okay here we go- how am I supposed to— [SHE LAUGHS.] How am I supposed to follow that up?

Um, look, they just wanna know where the body’s buried. Can you please tell us?

[LAUGHTER.]

LAUREN

The family wants to know.

ATTICUS

[OVERLAPPING] I just—hey, listen. I just told this other person that what I do in my spare time is my business, and they’re orphans! What family?

[LAUGHTER, CRIES?]

LAUREN

Okay!

VAL

We’ve already gotten into murder, and I don’t think that’s the best place to start—

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] We’ve already gotten into—

LUKA

Of course. It happens.

Okay, so that’s three questions. We’re gonna do two more.

VAL

Um, can you explain your whole fashion...thing, you have going on?

ATTICUS

Oh, I call this, um, revival of the 2014 Tumblr era from uh, Terran Society.

[LAUGHTER.]

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] No.

VAL

So true.

ATTICUS

Do you like my shoelaces?

LAUREN & VAL

No.

ATTICUS

Why not?

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] I don’t— [SHE SIGHS.]

ATTICUS

Okay.

LUKA

One more.

[LAUGHTER.]

VAL

Jes, it’s on you.

JESSE

What do you have to say about the kin list scandal?

[LAUGHTER.]

ATTICUS

I don’t like being called an apologist, okay?

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER.]

ATTICUS

[CONT.] But if I see one more person—one more person—say that I— [THEN, IN A HUSHED TONE] That I kin from alpha-beta-omega fics, I’m going to snap.

[LAUGHTER.]

ATTICUS

It was a one-time thing.

[HORRIFIED BEAT OF SILENCE.]

VAL

We’ve set a precedent for the rest of this game, now.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] I—there’s so many layers here.

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] So you have—I had, like, a quirky little radio host coming into this, but you have redefined their entire personality, which is exactly what I was hoping would happen.

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Um.

LAUREN

Uh huh. Yeah.

LUKA

Okay, so. That was five, who wants to go next?

VAL

Um, Jes and Lauren, your characters are like connected, right?

LAUREN

Yeah.

LUKA

That’s about to get absolutely destroyed. [LAUGHTER]

VAL

Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go next then and then we can, we can do that in a bit, um. Right, okay. I’m gonna have to come up with a character voice on the spot, I should’ve thought of this in advance, but-

LUKA

Well, apparently mine was just Will Wood, so-

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Uh huh.

VAL

I mean, radio host, Life in the World to Come, that’s fitting. Um anyways. Uh, my character’s name is Honey Comberbatch. Um-

LUKA

[STRAINED] Say it one more time?

VAL

Honey Comberbatch. It’s like Cumberbatch but it’s comb like honeycomb.

LUKA

Mmhmm.

VAL

Um- and basically to sum it up, um, when her and her wife got divorced, she was very upset about it and she knew her wife was a big advocate of Save the Bees because her wife was like a bee-hybrid-person kind of thing, it’s like- it’s a weird thing. Anyways- her wife was a big advocate of Save the Bees. It got lost in translation to “Legalize Bees.” And Honey- Honey Comberbatch got so enthusiastic about it that A: they were being a public disturbance, but the main thing they got arrested for was they burned down a honey shipment plant. Cause they thought they were freeing the bees from-from their labor, but no, they just- they just burnt down a bunch of trucks.

[LAUGHTER AND A FEW UNINTELLIGIBLE COMMENTS]

LAUREN

I love Bee Movie.

VAL

[LAUGHING] Yep. Yeah that’s basically what it is. Um. Woman gets divorced, um, burns down a honey shipment plant. Now she’s here.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] That’s what happens in Bee Movie last time I checked.

LUKA

Yeah.

[LAUGHTER]

VAL

Exactly.

LUKA

Um… Okay.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] Alright. I think I am gonna have to go with the British accent for this character also cause Comberbatch- and Cumberbatch.

LUKA

Mhmm.

LAUREN

There’s a lot of Tumblr stuff happening um-

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] We have Benedict Cumberbatch-

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] It wasn’t intentional-

VAL

We have um, shoelaces.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

[STRAINED] Shoelaces?

LUKA

I have so many regrets already.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Certain things that are just unspeakable, um, you know.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] This was a great idea. Alright.

LUKA

Sooo, let’s just start with questions. Is it Jes? I don’t know, we don’t have to go in an order.

JESSE

Sorry my Wifi is so bad so you guys keep cutting out but- oh, okay, um. What would you be willing to do to become captain of the ship?

HONEY

I mean, we already know I’m experienced with fire, don’t we. I mean, I’m willing to do it again.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

I also like that we’ve already set a precedent for two semi-arsonists in the crew. It’s very fun.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

The Daniel Jacobi kinnies: they did not come to play this time.

VAL

I don’t think Honey is a “semi-arsonist,” she burned down a honey shipment.

[OVERLAPPING LAUGHTER]

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Atticus was going to be an arsonist and then they got arrested. Jacobi’s on Atticuss’s kin list actually. That was the scandal.

LAUREN

Hh… Oh.

VAL

That was the scandal.

LUKA

Okay, but I think Lauren you’re next?

LAUREN

Yeah I was gonna ask why you um threw the priceless wedding ring into the ocean.

LUKA

[IN THE PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED TERRIBLE BRITISH ACCENT] Someone just finished watching an episode of Hannibal, I see.

[QUIET LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

I was thinking about Titanic and- but okay.

LUKA

Oh.

LAUREN

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] But I know which one you’re talking about.

[MORE LAUGHING]

HONEY

You know, after she left me, you know I was just… I was just so heartbroken, you know? I just- I just did it without thinking. I mean I tried to swim after it, I mean I regretted it of course, but you know. Then I ended up almost drowning and it was a whole thing. You know I’m good with fire, not water.

[BRIEF LAGHTER]

LUKA

Why is your hair that color?

HONEY

Sometimes, you know, interesting things happen when you do a home dye. Sometimes you’re hoping to get sort of, um, sort of a purple-pink ombre and instead you get more of a color that hasn’t been named yet and you think it’s from another planet. You know sometimes you order from a brand you never heard of, um, with no reviews, and sometimes it doesn’t turn out that well.

[LAUGHTER]

JESSE

Alright. Um. Who took the kids.

HONEY

[SADLY] She did.

LAUREN

Ahhhh.

HONEY

Been asking to see them for um, for a couple months now. But she always says they’re busy. Busy with school. Um, if you’re hearing this, please. I’ve been paying child support, I’ve been, just please. Next question.

LAUREN

So-

VAL

This is the last one, right?

LUKA

Yeah.

LAUREN

Mhmm. But the pressure’s on. Uh… I mean you hate to ask, but like the bee to humanoid makeup of the kids… has that been interfering in any way?

[LAUGHTER]

HONEY

I mean… Our- our kids have special needs, special dietary needs. You know, we make do. I mean, it’s pretty common on her home planet, so she knew what to do. Maybe that’s why she got the kids, I don’t know. [DEFENSIVE] I know how to do it too, I was there when they were born. I know how to feed them, just as well. Even if I don't have bee parts.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Ahh, man.

VAL

Anyways, I’m glad that’s over.

LUKA

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] Okay so which of you wants to go first?

JESSE

Okay I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go. So I’m playing Lord Jensen Jarvis Aloisias Augustine Maximillian Rupert Edmund Cedric von Marius Desmond Constantine Remington III.

LUKA

Okay what was the first name?

JESSE

Lord Jensen Jarvis Aloisias Augustine Maximillian Rupert Edmund Cedric.

[DEAD SILENCE]

LUKA

Jensen.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

Lord. I’ll give you a ‘lord’.

JESSE

Um, and so-

LAUREN

I can’t say the words, I don’t wanna get copyrighted cause I was about to launch into like…

JESSE

Um, so I was a prince at this really big, you know, kingdom, but unfortunately my parents did kick me out, um, because I didn’t take my tea the way they like it, so. Um, they kicked me out and I became a pirate, uh, and you know it was all good you know being a pirate- everyone loves being a pirate- until I tried to uh pickpocket this beautiful woman and she had no money. And so we just kinda, we kept talking and you know one thing led to another and now we’ve been married about twenty-three times. And, um, the reason I’m here is because I want to break so many laws. And the specific reason this time was I was arrested for un-bounce-ifying all of the pickles in Con-nect-icut-26. Um, but the thing is they arrested me while I was doing acrobatics on a bike in Ill-noise-42. So, you know, uh, it is what it is. I try- I try my hardest.

LUKA

Mhmm.

VAL

Alright. So should I start again? Questions?

LUKA

Um, I dunno the order I think Lauren is next. Yes.

LAUREN

I’m just trying to remember what the question was that we haven’t had yet from the list?

LUKA

Uh, we haven’t had: How would we be better off if you led?

LAUREN

So how would we be better off if you led?

JENSEN

Um, well every- everybody wants a sexy captain.

[LAUREN LAUGHING]

JENSEN

You- advertisement. Advertisement. It’s all about advertisement these days. Monetization.

LUKA

Oh, yeah. Okay, um. So I noticed, uh, the way you said an interesting name. Could you pronounce- this is a terrible question but I just need to hear it so I’m gonna say it and I think it will say a lot about you as a person. How do you pronounce the phrase: O-H-I-O?

JENSEN

O-ee-o.

LUKA

Mhmm. Mm. Mhm. Okay. Good. Got it.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] Stick the landing. Uh huh.

VAL

I like to think that like in the galaxy they’re from this is like a big- this is like our version of like “gif or jif.” Like it’s a big thing like everyone says it different.

LUKA

Well I’m thinking about how we’ve been making Cecil Palmer jokes about umm… throughout this recording.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING] Oh yeah.

LUKA

And very specifically, Jes chose to play a character who can’t say Connecticut. Which I think is really funny. Um, but anyways, moving right along.

VAL

What was the reason for your last divorce?

JENSEN

Well, you know, sometimes it- it’s very difficult to find a common ground when your wife can’t get past the fact that you like to drink Cherry Blossom Body Spray. Um, so.

[LAUGHTER AND HORRIFIED GASPS]

JENSEN

Things happen sometimes. It was very hard for both of us.

VAL

Mhmm. I imagine.

LAUREN

[STRAINED] Uh huh. [LAUGHTER] Um, why specifically, uh, Cherry Blossom body spray and have you managed to overcome that since remarrying?

JENSEN

No. Cherry Blossom body spray has a way of coating the throat- the orifices in a way- [LOSING IT SLIGHTLY] like no other. I do also, sometimes, drink Peach body spray and Cucumber perfume. It varies day to day.

LAUREN

Uh huh.

VAL

I see.

LUKA

Okay. [THEY CLEAR THEIR THROAT] Uh, I guess this is the last one. What is your favorite part about your hat?

JENSEN

Well, I really, I really enjoy the raccoons that live underneath it.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

You brought raccoons with you to prison because you stuffed them under your hat? They’ve just been chilling.

JENSEN

I can introduce you to them if you want.

LUKA

Oh, please! Please do.

VAL

[OVERLAPPING]Yes.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] Please.

JENSEN

Alright. Well, um, this. This is an audio medium. This one is called Jeremy, and he really loves bodily fluids. Ah-.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Oh?

JENSEN

This one- this one is called Vivian and she really enjoys the movie Ratatouille made by Disney and Pixar.

LUKA

That’s an old one.

VAL

So true.

JENSEN

Yeah, and this one, um, is simply called, um, Wet and Wild PhotoFocus Concombre 3-in-1 Base Allure, um, and she-

[LAUGHTER]

JENSEN

She really enjoys, um, uh... reading me little bedtime stories. So those are my raccoons.

VAL

Cheers.

LAUREN

Cheers.

LUKA

[STRAINED] Alright, Lauren?

FRIDAY Alright, so, my name is Friday Jones, uh, and you might have already met my husband, uh, I just call him Jensen, he’s really got this long sort of name that nobody’s got the time to say. But, uh, little bit about me! I grew up on a livestock transport ship, a fairly large sort of thing, and I used to, like, ride the cows from and to end and it was like, just lil’ ol’ me! Bouncing along on the cows! And it was really a lot of fun. And it’s also sorta where I got my proficiency for firearms.

[CHUCKLES]

FRIDAY

So, uh, but you know, got to be a little bit of a nuisance on the ship, I don’t really know what happened, it was probably a mistake, but my family did leave me. On a farm planet. Uh, tender age of nine years old. Um…

VAL Damn.

FRIDAY And then, you know, uh, you gotta do what you gotta do to make money! As far as, uh, guns go, so, uh, you know… turned to maybe some activities that kinda may be a little bit violent. Maybe a little illegal. But, that is how I met- well, sort of, it’s how I… I met my husband, and, like you said, I kinda lost track, I believe it was 22 times we’ve been married? Something like that. And… I made the mistake of trying to break my husband out of prison, and got caught in the process, and then… there was a successful jailbreak, which I am mighty happy about.

LUKA

Mhm.

VAL

Cheers.

LUKA Alright!

[LAUGHTER]

JESSE

Sorry, I realized while you were reading that- that I read the wrong side of the bottle, and that there is an English side.

LUKA

Uh huh!

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

What do we lose by not listening to you?

FRIDAY

Whole lotta expertise with firearms, thats for starters. Um, I know a good thing or two about cows! So, I mean, you’re losing a lot of… cow knowledge.

LUKA

[IN AN EXAGGERATED NEW YORK/BOSTON ACCENT.] Well, we don’t wanna lose any cow knowledge, do we?

VAL

Shut the fuck up.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN Where was I? Cow knowledge? Okay.

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING.] Uh. Cow knowledge.

FRIDAY

And a general sense of security and brain cells, I think.

LUKA

Well that’s a… that’s a quite rude implication, Ms. Jones!

[LAUGHER]

FRIDAY

[OVERLAPPING.] Didn’t say I was nice!

LUKA

[IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT] Oh, okay. I’m turning into the….

LAUREN [OVERLAPPING.] I was like, I know who this is but the listeners do not.

LUKA

[STILL USING ACCENT.] Arthur’s joined the call. Arthur’s joined the call now. Alright.

[LAUGHTER]

VAL How come you never learned how to use a phone?

FRIDAY When you’re on a livestock ship, what do you need a phone for? You got cows! You got cows that you can ride from end to end of the ship! What- what- you need to waste your time, talking to people when you can just talk to cows! And then when you get on a farm planet, well, same thing, you’re talking to corn! You’re not talking to people on the phone! What do you need that for?! What do you need that for? And also they scare me but that’s- I’m not ready to get that vulnerable with y’all, you know?

[LAUGHTER.]

LUKA

Hm.

JESSE [IN A BRITISH ACCENT.] Alright, who’s turn is it?

LUKA

Yours.

JESSE

[IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT.] Um. When were you planning on telling- darling, when were you planning on telling me about the superpowers?

[LAUGHTER.]

FRIDAY

Do you know how hard it is to manage new superpowers when you get to be a woman of my age that’s already established herself as a sort of crime… division, the other side of that? I was gonna tell you as soon as you stopped drinking that Cherry Blossom nonsense! All the time! Just drinking us outta house and home! So maybe you gotta give a little to get a little, Jensen.

JENSEN

Yes, darling.

LUKA

So I know you don’t like Cherry Blossom, but, like, what is your favorite flavor to drink?

FRIDAY

Unfortunately, my friend, I cannot “yes… and” you on that one. Um…

[LAUGHTER.]

FRIDAY

My new friend, uh, because, you know, one thing you gotta know about Friday: there’s a line! And drinking the Cherry Blossom whatever that is not supposed to go in your mouth or oraphaces is beyond that line. So I will not be partaking in that.

LUKA

[MIMICKING FRIDAY.] In that sinful drink.

FRIDAY That’s devil’s brew! I’m convinced!

[LAUGHTER.]

VAL

Alright…

LUKA Not the devil’s brew.

[LAUGHTER.]

VAL

Alright, last question.

LUKA

Yee.

VAL

What happened to the family cat? FRIDAY

I… uh… Wh- when you get left on a farm planet with a cat that has never been on solid ground, and you are nine years old, and also you know, you you got to make a little bit of mon-

You sell the cat. I do regret it, every day, because then I didn’t have any friends.

[LAUGHTER]

FRIDAY (CONT’D)

Um, but… it’s okay. So there was a transaction, probably the last legal one of my entire life, where I sold the cat to a very nice family who needed a milk supply for the winter.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

Don’t you live on a cow farm?

FRIDAY This was after the cow- this was after the cows! This was after- I wish!

LUKA

[OVERLAPPING] Okay. Got it.

FRIDAY

You know, you can milk a cat too, you can milk anything you try hard enough.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

I see! Alright, so, I feel that we are well introduced.

VAL

Uh-huh.

LUKA

So, next questions we answer together.

JESSE

Okay.

LUKA

We gotta bounce ideas off each other, and we’re gonna be designing our ship.

JESSE

[OVERLAPPING] Amazing. LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] Okay.

LUKA

So, number one: how is our vessel unique?

VAL

Hmm. LAUREN

I always think it’s really cool when spaceships have, like, cloaking devices, or stuff, and stuff like that, in sci-fi.

LUKA

I was gonna say it’s transparent.

LAUREN

Ooh! Same brain.

LUKA

Combo that.

LAUREN

Yes.

LUKA

It’s like a glass house. [LAUGHING} You can just see everything that’s inside.

[VARIOUS LAUGHTER AND UNINTELLIGIBLE REACTIONS]

JESSE

Oh, oh my god, Friday, are you Wonder Woman? Is this your invisible jet?

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

[LAUGHS] O- [STUTTERING] Okay. Can I, um-

LUKA

What if- do we- what if we think it has a cloaking device, but it’s just made of transparent material.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING AT THE START] It’s the complete opposite. [STUTTERING] You can see directly into the ship. Um, maybe it’s some sort of, like, um, we think it’s like a two-way mirror scenario, whatever those are called. We think cause we can see out everywhere, and we think that it’s like a mirror on the other side that like reflects the void of space, so we’re completely cloaked- No. It’s just a glass ship.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

[CHANTING] Glass ship! Glass ship!

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING AND CHANTING] Glass ship!

LUKA

Now I really like this next question, I think you’re gonna like it too. How is it quirky or temperamental? VAL

I mean, we were just talking about 2014 Tumblr.

LAUREN

Oh no.

VAL

I do-

JESSE

We stole it from the President.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Yes.

VAL

I was gonna say, I think that the corners of the ship are in fact sorted based off of 2014 Tumblr fandoms.

LUKA

And that also ties into temperamental.

LAUREN

Yeah.

LUKA

I think.

LAUREN

Oh, yeah, definitely. Um, I do also like it being stolen from the President because I think if we’re gonna go- If we’re gonna get in the wayback machine we might as well just commit to it.

VAL

Yeah.

LUKA

Yeah. Okay, so this next question is basically what’s going to be [IN A SLIGHTLY GERMAN ACCENT] driving ze plot. Not to… I don’t know why I did that.

[LAUGHTER]

JESSE

[IN A BRITISH ACCENT] Felix Couvillion.

LUKA

[IN A GERMAN ACCENT] Felix Couvillion joining ze crew for today.

[THEY RESUME THEIR NATURAL ACCENT] Um-

VAL

Cheers.

LUKA

What does it lack that we need?

LAUREN

Ummm….

VAL

A sense of family.

[LAUREN SIGHS ADORINGLY]

[LAUGHTER]

VAL

You know what this ship needs? It’s some love.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

Okay. Mhm. Okay.

[LAUGHTER]

VAL

Maybe the real ship parts was the friends we made along the way.

LAUREN

[OVERLAPPING] The ship is powered by love. VAL

Yes.

LAUREN

And it’s about to fall out of the sky-

VAL

Yep.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA Okay! Well the note that I had that was gonna drive the plot was that the engine was breaking, but I think that’s a metaphor for these bonds that our characters have, that are just- they’re being torn apart. They’ve gotta fix this family one way or another.

VAL

Yeah, no, the friendship dies, the ship dies.

LUKA

Okay, so, I think that’s pretty solid! So now we have to answer some individual questions on the ship. There’s two, they’re- I’ll ask them to each of you. I can start, if we want. So, first one is: how is the vessel home? Well, I think Atticus, as, um, someone who has built their image in 2014 Tumblr walked onto this skip and was like ‘Ah, finally. This is it.’

[LAUGHTER]

VAL

This is the Tumblr, like, island that people would post about back in the day.

LUKA

Yep.

VAL

This is what it’s like.

LUKA

Um, and the other question is: where do you find sanctuary in it? I think Atticus lives wherever the Superwholock corner is.

VAL

That’s what I was gonna say.

LAUREN I was gonna suggest the ball pit? [LAUGHTER]

LUKA Oh, no, you’re right! Atticus finds sanctuary in the ball pit! LAUREN [OVERLAPPING] I don’t want to like, push in on your thing, but-

LUKA

No, no, no, you’re right. I think the ball pit is like, right next door, to the Superwholock corner.

[VARIOUS UNINTELLIGIBLE REACTIONS]

LUKA (CONT’D) I think maybe the Superwholock corner is the bridge, and then there’s like, the ball pit is like, in the bridge-

JESSE

[OVERLAPPING PROTESTS] The ball pit is the bathroom.

LAUREN

[STRAINED] Do not! [LAUGHTER]

LUKA

Why did you have to do that to me?

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA (CONT’D) When you go in the bridge, Atticus, um, asks you if you have an extra hour in the ball pit.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA (CONT’D) So I guess who wants to go next?

[VARIOUS UNSURE SOUNDS] JESSE

Um, I can go?

LUKA

[IN A BRITISH ACCENT] Alright, alright, alright, Lord Jensen. How is the vessel home?

JENSEN

Well, it’s home to me, because, um, my raccoons are here.

[QUIET LAUGHTER]

LUKA

I think the raccoons like the ball pit, probably. JESSE

Yep.

LUKA

Um, where do you find sanctuary in it?

JENSEN

I really like, um, [STUTTERING] The forbidden section of the ship that has Danganronpa discourse posts. [LAUGHTER]

[VARIOUS REACTIONS OF DISGUST AND DISAPPROVAL]

JENSEN (CONT’D)

Uh, but also I spend a lot of time in the dark academia section as well.

LAUREN

Uh… I…

LUKA

So true.

LAUREN

[STUTTERING] Okay, yeah, uh, uh-huh.

LUKA

Alright, [STUTTERING] Honey or Friday? Who’s next? VAL

Um, I’m trying to remember every Tumblr subculture that exists cause all my brain is giving me is Homestuck and I’m not doing that.

LUKA

Yeah, who’s taking on the Homestuck burden? [LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

I know nothing of this media [STUTTERING], so I probably shouldn’t.

LUKA

[STRAINED] I unfortunately do.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA (CONT’D)

Can we cut that out?

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] Can we cut out the admission of guilt in there?

LUKA

[THROUGH LAUGHTER, STUTTERING] So, I guess, uh, Honey, how is the vessel home?

HONEY

You know, after… after the divorce, I was kind of a wanderer, um, you know, I really didn’t have anywhere to go, I was just kind of drifted from planet to planet, and this is the first vessel I’ve been on that really- that really feels like, you know, I could settle down in here, take off my boots, you know, have a nice warm cup of, um, tea, without honey, because you know those bees are overworked as shit.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

The bees need to unionize.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] Where do you find sanctuary in it?

VAL

So… so I do think Honey finds sanctuary, in the, um, in the- [STUTTERING] I did the first half in character, I could probably do the second half.

HONEY

You know, um, I actually quite like the, um, the Welcome to Night Vale, um, little- little like, communications room. Just because, you know, they have all- I like, I like all the characters, um… [PURPOSEFULLY MISPRONOUNCED WITH A HARD C] C-Ceecil? And- and Carlos and I just think of what could have been, you know?

[ASSORTED MHMMS FROM THE OTHERS]

LUKA

Okay.

[LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

Cheers.

LUKA

Um, Friday. How is the vessel home?

FRIDAY

Well, um, vessel’s a lot homier than being an orphan on a planet ya don’t know. Um, and I like it because it’s about as big as- it’s home because it’s about as big as the one that I spent the beginning of my life on, so I can like close my eyes and kinda imagine that maybe there’s some cows or something like that.

LUKA

Mhmm. Where do you find sanctuary in it?

LAUREN

Um, that would be uh, the gun range.

[LAUGHTER]

VAL

[THROUGH LAUGHTER] And that’s the Homestuck one.

[LAUGHTER]

LUKA

I don’t know why we said the ball pit was the bathroom when Homestuck Sharpie Bath was right there.

[MORE LAUGHTER]

LAUREN

There is… guys…

LUKA

Okay, well.

LAUREN

That was great, I have to be going now.

[EVEN MORE LAUGHTER]

LUKA

Okay, well. We are done with our questions.

VAL

Are we starting the game now?

LUKA

We are starting the game now.

VAL

Alright.

LAUREN

[WHISPERED] Alright.

VAL

Tune in next for part two, which, unfortunately, has more Tumblr jokes.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

#heart of ether transcripts

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