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reginaregen · 2 months ago

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Neighbour- You look like something

Dan nudged Anne. "Anne! Am I seeing things, or is Eddie showing up to our wedding with a fairy princess?"

Anne glanced at the couple walking through the door, then turned to Dan. "I'm sure she's just a friend."

"He's got her arm."

"Dan! This is my wedding! Damn it! This is about me, not Eddie! Focus on me!"

No matter how hard Anne tried to remove Eddie from her life, their paths kept crossing. To be honest, when she sent the invitation, she hadn’t expected Eddie to actually come. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but she had chosen Dan, and she needed to make that clear to Eddie, that’s all.

As Eddie approached and shook Dan’s hand, Anne quickly scanned the girl. Well, she was way out of Eddie’s league. Then again, hadn’t Anne been too? Still, she had loved Eddie. If he hadn’t betrayed her, they might still be together. She had to warn this girl. There was no guarantee Eddie wouldn’t one day steal her emails and ruin her life, just like he had done to Anne, the woman he had once claimed to love.

* * *

"Physical love?"

The Captain raised his shield, preparing to throw it at Thor.

Thor raised his hands. "Captain Man! Yes, I had that talk with Jane, but I never told Natasha to have the same talk with Lana! I'm innocent!"

Natasha placed her drink on the best spot in Stark Tower—Tony's bar—and muttered, "Coward."

Steve turned to Natasha. "Is Thor telling the truth? Did you go to my girlfriend and ask if we just have physical love with Lana?"

Natasha shrugged. "It wasn’t the first time..."

All the Avengers in the Stark Tower living room could see the rage building in the Captain. His neck veins bulged as he shouted, "What wasn't the first time?"

Natasha stared back at him from her seat, "It wasn’t the first time she called me crying after sleeping with you..."

Steve took a deep breath. "And you waited all this time to tell me?"

Thor groaned awkwardly. "Iron Man, you promised me a football match on the big screen. Instead, you’re making me watch Captain America's bedroom drama!"

Tony snickered and passed the bowl of popcorn to Thor. "Here, have some popcorn, Thortilla! The football game isn't going anywhere, but you don’t get to hear about Cap’s bedroom issues every day!"

Steve's face had turned completely red. "Shut up!" he yelled at Tony.

Tony protested, "Hey! I’m not the one who convinced your girlfriend there were problems in the bedroom, Natasha did! If you’re mad, be mad at her!"

With a roar that shocked everyone, Steve slammed his fist into the wooden bar where Natasha had set her drink. The bar split in two as Steve stormed toward the elevator.

Thor turned to Tony, eager. "Can we watch the game now, Iron Man?"

Tony pulled out his phone. "Hold on. I’m calling his bromance partner to deal with this maniac."

* * *

Anne had wanted a simple and elegant ceremony, but when Dan mentioned that his doctor friends would prefer something classier, even a waltz had been added to their wedding.

As the waltz began to play, Lana, sitting with Eddie in a secluded corner, nudged his arm. "How did you end up engaged to someone like Anne? I mean, they're playing a waltz at her wedding. I can't help but wonder what it would’ve been like if you two had gotten married."

Eddie chuckled. "Just because I have tattoos, ride a motorcycle, and wear hoodies, it doesn’t mean I can’t be a classy gentleman."

Lana looked at him with pride, her hand resting on his arm at the table. "Well, if I hadn’t seen the way that suit fits you, I would’ve agreed with you completely." She let out a low whistle. "But look at you, Eddie Brock. You're turning heads tonight."

Eddie laughed and shook his head. "Lana, you’re too kind. But even if I am handsome, I’m nothing compared to you. Next to you, I’m like a faded star."

Yes, Eddie wanted to hear Lana say he was handsome. So what? Eddie Brock might be a loser, a freak, and a bunch of other negative things, but he wasn’t new to the flirting game. Plus, even if he were a saint, who wouldn’t enjoy getting a flattering comment about their looks from another woman while attending the wedding of the love of their life?

Lana, her cheeks flushing, shot him a glance from beneath her lashes, her hand still resting on his arm. "God, Eddie! You’re giving off serious... vibes."

Eddie turned his face toward her. "What kind of vibes am I giving off?"

Lana blushed even more. "I can’t say."

Leaning in closer to her, Eddie whispered sweetly, "Come on, tell me."

"I’ll whisper it in your ear," Lana said, moving closer as Eddie turned his head to allow her. Then, she leaned in and whispered it into his ear.

Eddie couldn’t quite tell if it was the girl's warm breath brushing against his ear or the shy thing Lana had whispered, but his body suddenly and briefly tensed with alertness. He was so relieved that Venom wasn’t around at that moment...

As he pulled back, Lana looked at him with questioning eyes. Eddie nodded, "Well, if you say so..." He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Then... I guess I am. I mean, I’m giving off that... uh...vibe."

Lana giggled. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I got flustered saying it too. I just thought, being here can’t be easy for you, and you really do look good. Like... a total something."

Eddie, suddenly flustered again, cut her off. "Yes, I got it. I look like a total something." He paused. "You’re not saying that because I’m old, right?"

Lana threw her head back laughing. "Do I look like I have a problem with older men? Cap is over a hundred. I just turned 27."

Feigning surprise, Eddie asked, "27? You look at least thirty-five!"

Lana playfully nudged his arm. "Hey!"

She watched him as he stood up. A moment later, Eddie offered her his hand. "Come on, let this old man teach you something. Though, your boyfriend’s even older than me..."

Taking his hand to dance, Lana grinned. "Steve doesn’t really have time to teach me anything." As Eddie’s other hand found her waist, she chirped, "Are we waltzing? Oh my God! That’s so cool! But I’ve never done it before!"

Eddie laughed. "I’ll teach you, just relax. Are you always this excited, or is it my suit that's making you this way tonight?"

Lana whispered as she tried to match his steps, "A bit of both."

* * *

Bucky was frantically searching for his ringing phone in his small apartment. When he reached Regina, who was sitting on the couch, he raised an eyebrow. "Is that my hoodie?"

Regina was watching TV with hypnotized eyes, eating popcorn stuffed into the hood of her hoodie that she was wearing backward. "Could be," she replied absentmindedly.

Bucky leaned in and cupped her chin with one hand. "I’m going to kill you, Regina Barnes," he whispered, getting close to her lips. The moment they started kissing, the phone went silent.

As Regina climbed her hands up Bucky's bare chest, she reluctantly pulled away from his kiss, breathless. "But Bucky..." she protested, "You look better when you’re not dressed."

Bucky held her tighter. "Is that so?" he asked in a dangerously teasing tone.

Regina challenged him between her laughter that echoed in the room, "Yes, it is!" Ignoring the scattered popcorn around, he laid her back on the couch just as the phone began ringing insistently again.

“F*ck!”

Regina giggled. "Me or the phone?"

Bucky grinned as he ran his hand between the couch cushions while lying over Regina. "Both of you."

Bucky Barnes loved being newly married. As he answered the phone, Regina grabbed his hand and kissed his wrist. Bucky shot his wife a dark, desire-filled look and silently mouthed, "Behave."

"What’s up, Tony? Didn’t you know that a newlywed couple shouldn’t be disturbed after an evening like this?"

Tony grumbled from the other end, "Got it, you’re married and happy. Enjoying your regular sex life."

Bucky grinned mischievously. "Exactly."

"This isn’t a question, you filthy bastard. Anyway... Steve left Stark Tower after smashing my handmade, intricately carved bar in half with one punch. That thing was a family heirloom!"

Bucky grunted. "I guess it’s no surprise with the alcoholic father tradition in your family."

"Can you be serious? I’m telling you, your bromance partner is dead."

"If you haven’t noticed, Steve is a grown man. You wouldn’t believe it, but he can even go to the bathroom without me."

"Bucky! He found out Natasha is trying to convince Lana to break up with him. Then he lost it."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I miss our lives before Lana."

Regina playfully flicked his nose. "James Buchanan Barnes!"

After a painful groan, Bucky said goodbye to Tony and hung up. He turned to his wife. "I will never forgive Loki for bringing Lana into our lives."

Regina looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You did everything to get Lana to leave Loki and be with Steve. Now stop complaining. Go find Steve."

#fanfic #marvel #alternate universe #avengers #bucky barnes #tony stark #tom hardy #venom #eddie brock #steve rogers #captain america

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runningwithcoffee · 3 years ago

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Love Triangles, Champagne and Tequila Part 3: The Morning After

A sort-of spin-off to the masterful ’Three Hearts’ by @cityfanchelseaslut. Part 1 is here: Love Triangles, Champagne and Tequila Part 2 is here: Love Triangles, Champagne and Tequila Part 2: Coffee and Unexpected Calls Warnings: smut and language.

You need to stop this, she thought, staring once more at the semi-filled spreadsheet in front of her, which stubbornly refused to turn itself into a completed client training schedule for the week ahead. Stop thinking about last night, and get on with it.

Alyssa sighed, and stood up. She’d been staring at the laptop for a while, interspersing staring at it with bouts of staring out of the window, and the occasional glance downwards, to where gently pulling down the waistband of her skirt revealed very faint, painless bruises along her hips, which exactly matched Ben Chilwell’s fingertips, and caused her to blush thinking about how they’d got there, him underneath me, looking like he was loving every minute, like all he wanted was for me to ride him harder. She blushed even more thinking about quite how dominant she’d been last night. A lot of men would not have liked that, but he’d not only liked it, but watched her riding him and pleasuring herself like he was getting a private show and couldn’t wait to see more.

That was… very, very good.

Well, up until an unwelcome knock on the hotel room door had interrupted them, and she’d ended up leaving early and feeling strangely… unfulfilled? Was it possible, she wondered, to feel sexually frustrated when you had actually had sex less than 24 hours ago? Yes. Yes, it was.

Which was why, having made her way home, she had slept, eaten, gone for a run, and had been spending the morning staring pointlessly at the laptop, trying to motivate herself to get on with planning the week ahead. Yesterday had been an evening off, but today needed to be a day for planning the week’s schedule and writing new fitness programmes. And yet, thinking about neither appealed.

Yeah, because it’s a lot more fun to think about what you could be doing with him. Like, maybe in front of that mirror. You on the bed, legs spread, and him up behind you, nothing on him, all that ink on display and those muscles, he’s got GREAT definition… I bet he’d do it nice and slowly, probably tease you at first, just nipping at your neck and your ears and your shoulders, marking you, reaching around to play with your nipples whilst you were watching him, that wicked grin, those blue eyes watching you writhe and moan, begging him for more whilst he pressed that nice big cock against you, laughing as you tried to wriggle around so you could get him in you, then teasing you with it, just pushing in a little way, then a bit more, then finally he’d be in you, fucking you hard and fast, and you could watch as he made you come, and then he’d come, and you’d both laugh and fall on the bed, and start all over again…

“This is not getting the goddamn schedule done,” she murmured, “and all my clients will leave me, and we will both be out on the street.”

From his place on the windowsill, her cat entirely ignored her, preferring to laze in the sunshine. As she approached, he deigned to turn his head and make a faintly curious ‘mmrh?’ sound.

“Sorry, Bo, I’m thinking about a male who doesn’t happen to be you,” she grinned, reaching out to scratch the top of his gold-and-black spotted head. “Don’t get jealous, fella.”

Bo regarded her with his one remaining eye and made his familiar is my bowl full? miaow, then turned his back. She sighed and reminded herself, you are a professional. You are self-employed, you have a client roster that took two years to build up, and will take a much shorter period of time to lose if you don’t get your arse in gear and get ready for the week ahead.

Which was the problem. At first, she’d not been too bothered about the awards ceremony one of her longest-standing, and richest, clients had gifted her two tickets to. Football was not really her thing, although like practically everyone else she’d watched avidly as England fought their Euro 2020 campaign, suddenly drawn in by the drama and the story and the hope, and had actually found herself crying at the end of that miserable night in July. After that, she’d mostly forgotten about it, being busy training her clients, volunteering at the local youth centre, and, slowly but surely, continuing to build up her reputation as the trainer you went to if you were a busy, rich, workaholic who needed someone both effective and discreet, who could get results with barely any time to work with. But Abby had been desperately keen to go.

“Come on, Lissie, it’ll be fun! You owe it to yourself; when was the last time you went anywhere that isn’t that shitty bar?”

“Come on, one of my friends runs that shitty bar!” she’d protested, feeling defensive. Sure, Bob’s Place wasn’t going to win awards for fancy décor any time soon – ‘grammable was the last word you’d ever apply to it – but it was where a lot of the yachties hung out to drink and swap stories in between sailing trips, and had been the start of some pretty memorable nights out. “I thought you had fun the last time we went – you seemed to be getting on pretty well with that Norwegian captain…”

“Turned out he wasn’t a captain, just crew. Who wants to hook up with that?”

Alyssa, who herself had been ‘just crew’ for just over a year, albeit a crew member who’d earned a good wage as an onboard personal trainer in additional to her regular deckhand duties aboard the Ocean Spirit, decided not to reply to that. Abby, perhaps sensing she was losing her audience, tried again. “Listen, you’ve done nothing but work for two years.”

“Had to build the reputation, and you know what some of my clients are like.”

“We built that reputation,” Abby grinned, and since they had been friends since Alyssa had been the new girl in the playground and Abby the small girl at the back who no-one spoke to much or wanted to play with, Alyssa did not point out that whilst Abby had indeed done a lot of the online and social media work, and she was not ungrateful, pointing a camera and tapping out a few posts was a lot easier than turning up to every single session perfectly made-up, enthusiastic, and willing to meet the client’s demands, no matter how exhausted you were or how early you had had to get up so that you could get to their home for their pre-work training session. Some of her clients started work at 6am, which made for long days. “So, you and me owe it to ourselves to go buy some new dresses, make ourselves look stunning, and go find ourselves some nice pretty men to go play with.”

“Pretty�� and rich, that’s what you’re thinking,” Alyssa grinned teasingly. Abby didn’t bother to deny it. “Fuck yes, why else bother? We deserve the best. And the best will be there. Do you know how much some of them earn?”

“Mmm, that’s not the first thing I think about.”

“It should be, you could have any of them. And so could I.”

That last one at least was true. Abby’s combination of long glossy dark hair, fine-boned features, and slim build with curves that looked perfect from nearly any camera angle, meant men tended to notice her whenever she walked into just about any bar, club, or... well, pretty much anywhere. Her habit of sidling up to the richest-looking man in the place and throwing a seductive look his way was usually pretty effective, particularly since she usually tended to persist until she got what she was after. Strangely, it never seemed to make her happy, and Alyssa had more than once had to console her after yet another conquest had mysteriously failed to make contact with Abby after the fact.

“Don’t know about that, they go for you, but… not always for me.”

“That’s because you’re so closed-off.”

“You know why that is.”

Abby had the good grace to look slightly apologetic, but pressed on. “Yeah, I know, and he was a shithead. But are you going to let that fucker screw up the rest of your life? Get out there, you deserve a good fuck!”

Alyssa snorted with laughter, and for a moment it felt like they were back at university, daring each other on on wild nights out, two girls against the world. “Okay, but I’m not bothering with a new dress. I’m wearing my favourite.”

“How often have you worn it? It’s like you have only one dress.”

“I have more than one, I’ve barely worn it this year, and I thought re-wearing was the in-thing these days?”

“You can afford better.”

“I need that money to replace some of the equipment the kids broke at last Saturday’s training, and anyway, I look amazing in that dress. If we’re going out to hunt us some nice pretty men, I want to go out there feeling like a queen.”

“That’s my Lissie! And you should wear your suspenders too.”

“Abby!”

“Go all-in, baby!”

So she had, and when, after the meal, Abby had vanished to the bathroom – probably stopping to fire off a few Insta posts on the way, since her dress had come courtesy of one of her influencer clients who wanted it advertised – Alyssa had found herself alone at the bar, she’d rather enjoyed the chance to look around the room and put names to faces. So, that’s… John Stones, there’s Jack Grealish behind him, and hey, there’s that cute Chelsea player Abby has bent my ear about for the past week. She’s right, he is gorgeous, but it doesn’t look like her luck is in, there’s a man who’s got eyes for only one woman in this room. Actually, that’s kind of sweet, the way they’re dancing together. It’s a long time since anyone looked at me like that.

She sat back, sipped the champagne, and savoured the moment. I’m no longer crew. I’m not ‘the staff’ any more. I worked hard to get here, two years of working my contacts and building a reputation and pulling in clients who value me enough to give me tickets worth… well, worth more than I’d actually pay for them, but Abby was right, it’s good to be back in the world. I belong in this room, and I’ve earned it.

When was when, rather annoyingly, her moment had been interrupted by an unfamiliar voice asking “Is this seat taken?”

And then she’d turned round, and saw that the voice belonged to a dark-haired man with blue eyes, a well-cut suit, and a smile that he clearly knew was charming, but that somehow managed to be charming anyway.

“Actually, yes it is,” she replied, with an inward wry smile, having met one too many men who thought having money = getting their own way all the time and having women act like they were God’s gift, here to get their every whim catered for, their every wish fulfilled. Let’s see if this one’s another rich jerk; Abby can do what or who she likes, but I’m not here to roll over and spread my legs just because someone owns a shiny credit card, a nice suit, and earns his living kicking a ball around for the cameras.

And… he had not been another rich jerk. He had smiled cheerfully, and offered to buy her and Abby a drink anyway, and when she’d teased him, putting on a simpering face and pretending to be another empty-headed girl making boring conversation, he’d grinned and played along, even making a self-deprecating joke about earning his living kicking a ball around a field for 90 minutes. Alyssa, who, despite her until-recent lack of interest in football, knew only too well just how dedicated any professional athlete had to be (and how strong and well-toned the body underneath that nicely-cut suit undoubtedly was), had been unexpectedly charmed.

And she would have been lying if she had said she hadn’t secretly enjoyed the look on Abby’s face as her friend returned from the bathroom to see Alyssa sipping champagne and laughing with one of the men whose image she’d been shoving underneath her nose for the past three weeks, like there was going to be a test at the end of the evening, extra points given for if you could remember how much they earned, how many followers they had, and where they liked going on holiday, and thus where they might be persuaded to take you, in Abby’s wilder dreams. She had rather less enjoyed the calculating look on Abby’s face two seconds later, although she’d forgotten about it a few seconds later when the Chelsea player she’d seen earlier dancing with a pretty woman in his arms, murmuring in her ear and kissing her in front of the whole room, sprinted past her, Abby, and- Ben, his name is Ben – with a face like thunder.

“Is that your friend?” she asked him, remembering from various photos Abby had insisted on sharing that Ben Chilwell and Mason Mount were close friends both on and off the pitch. Ben nodded, his face frowning with concern, and he muttered “Excuse me,” hastily putting his drink back on the bar, and taking off after his friend at some speed.

“Was it something you said?” Abby asked, and Alyssa really hoped she was just imagining a slightly snarky undertone in that comment.

“No, don’t think so…” Alyssa stared after Ben, who had vanished through the door. She rose to her feet, trying to stare through the crowd. It was hard to make out, but she thought she could see Ben standing next to his friend, one hand on his shoulder, clearly trying to console him, whilst the other man slumped against the wall, his hands in his pockets. Even at this distance, he looked miserable. I wonder what’s going on there?

She hadn’t necessarily expected to see either Ben or his friend again, and so she’d been surprised at how high her heart had leaped on seeing him approaching her and Abby from the other side of the room. Before she knew it, she was smiling, and raising her glass, nodding at Ben to come and join them, and bring his friend. Abby noticed her interest, followed her gaze, and murmured “Fancy your chances? Best woman wins?”

“Uh, no! One, he’s bringing a friend, and I’m pretty sure it’s that guy you were interested in. Two, you were the one who kept telling me I need to get out there, and I fancy being ‘out there’, with him, so hands off!”

“Don’t tell me the ice maiden is warming up.”

She decided to treat this as a joke. “Yes, warming is happening. So listen, don’t screw this up for me – go and get your own!”

Later that evening, after Ben had explained a little of what was going on, she’d rather regretted saying that. It was obvious that whilst Mason Mount was indeed a very attractive man, he clearly did not want to be there, at all, slamming back tequila like his life depended on it, and barely responding even though Abby was going all-out, clearly thrilled to have one of the Premier League’s biggest stars paying even a tiny bit of attention to her.

Even to Alyssa, who was increasingly enjoying Ben’s attention, his jokes, his surprising level of interest in her charity work at the local youth centre, and the way he filled out that suit perfectly (and the way his frequent glances told her loud and clear he’d very much noticed how well her red silk dress showed her body off, and that he was probably starting to think of how he could persuade her out of it, which was an idea that was increasingly beginning to appeal), it was obvious that Mason had practically no interest at all in Abby, except maybe as a distraction from whatever was making him so unhappy.

She was actually surprised when, suddenly, the two of them left together, and even more so at the look of concern on Ben’s face. Most men, thinking they were on to a sure thing, wouldn’t notice if the building fell down around their ears, let alone that their friend had wandered off for a quick meaningless drunken fuck in a hotel room.

Maybe this one actually is different. “What’s wrong?” And she’d listened, and been rather touched by Ben’s obvious concern for his friend’s wellbeing. And… and let’s face it, most men would call a women sleeping with two men at once, which is clearly what’s going on here, a hoe or a slag or a complete bitch, particularly if one of those men was his friend. But he actually seems to care about her as well as his friend. Maybe a little too much, because let’s face it, it’s not like Abby dragged his friend away at gunpoint. They’re both adults.

And with that, she smiled, and made eye contact, and …those eyes. I think those eyes are his best feature, although the rest of the package is pretty gorgeous too. Suddenly, she’d known that she would be in Ben Chilwell’s bed by the end of the evening, and it felt right.

Not that there hadn’t been men since she broke up with her ex, but it had been perfunctory, we’re both in the same town overnight before the boat leaves, so we might as well, type affairs. Okay for proving that, well, everything still worked, and sometimes fun, but that was about it. But this felt different. This didn’t feel like we’re drunk, we might as well, or eh, there’s nothing else to do, or, if she was being really honest, underscored by that slight feeling of trepidation at being alone with a man she barely knew. You never really know what someone is like, underneath… and she supposed she still didn’t, they’d met barely hours ago. But somehow, she felt she could trust him.

More than that… those eyes. Those eyes are looking at me, and somehow I just know he’s thinking, ‘there are so many things I want to do to you, and you’ll love every one of them’. And goddamnit, I want him to do every one of them. I want to see him underneath me with that suit on, I want him on top of me with that suit off so I can see everything, I want to know what that beard feels like against my thighs. She blushed a little at that last thought, then leaned in to tell him to take a night off from worrying about his friends, left for a few minutes to go to the bathroom and prepare herself and, let’s be honest, give him a nice back view of what’s on offer here. Man needs reminding that there’s another girl who needs his attention.

And when she’d returned, and decided to make her move, and he’d responded with that terrible line about his room having a great view if she was in it, which somehow managed to be both endearing and sexy at the same time…

Her whole body responded at the memory of what had happened next. Him steering her to his room didn’t feel wrong, or weird, or like he was just showing off his latest conquest. It felt right. Admittedly, she’d started to get a little annoyed when, having finally got her into his bedroom, he was still worrying about his friends. Even though she figured she needed to say something a bit shocking just to get his attention, she’d surprised herself a little by telling him she wanted him to go down on her and let her ride him… but it had worked. He’d looked at her like she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, pulled her into his lap, and the rest had followed so easily.

And it was so good. So, so good. That body of his… amazing. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to have a man in you, particularly when he was so good at using it. And his hands, and that mouth of his... that was incredible… until…

Until the small woman she’d seen dancing earlier had knocked on the door in floods of tears, just as they’d been about to open the champagne, and drink it whilst teasing each other until they were ready to start again. Alyssa was not a mean-spirited woman, and her heart went out to anyone so clearly unhappy, but it had taken rather a lot of effort to muster a reassuring smile as she left Ben’s room a lot earlier than she had planned.

And now? Now, her body was aching with arousal, and as for her mind? She had an odd feeling of dissatisfaction. It was hard to describe, but probably the closest was, the story felt unfinished. If we’d fucked all night, eaten breakfast together, then had one final time and said a happy farewell, well, that would be one thing. But what the hell was going on there? Perhaps, she thought, she just wanted to know the ending of the story.

No, you don’t. You’ve been thinking about him all day, sniffing gently at that red silk dress because it smells faintly of his cologne, you’re wondering whether you’d wear your jeans that show off your bum or that skirt that shows off your legs if he called you, your search history says “ben chilwell goal”, and you keep thinking about whether taking out what’s in the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet would at least scratch the itch.

It would, but that was the problem. Getting herself off felt like settling for second-best. I do not want my hands, or my pillow, or my Rabbit. I want a man. I want someone to laugh at my jokes, I want someone to look at me like I’m the sexiest thing on earth, I want to listen to someone make me laugh, then take me to bed and hold me and stroke me, and find all the ways I like to be touched and kissed and licked and how I like it when someone holds my wrists and murmurs dirty things in my ear whilst he’s fucking me senseless, and then lets me explore him and find out what makes him moan. I’ve worked long enough, and hard enough, and I want to play, I want to have fun, and I want a man in my bed, right now, please.

You don’t just want any man, she thought. It’s one particular man, and why hasn’t he called or messaged me, anyway?

A loud and very unexpected knock on the door interrupted that line of thought, too. A ping from her phone confirmed what she’d just guessed; hey babe it’s me ur bestie u shud get me a key sometime!

With some reluctance, she parked all thoughts of a certain dark-haired Chelsea left-back, and went to open the door, mentally preparing to listen to Abby’s account of whatever had happened between her and Mason Mount.

#chelsea fc #ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfiction #england nt #fanfic #premier league football #football #imagine #chelsea #ben chilwell smut

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dex-xe · 3 years ago

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Ghosts watch the Euros?

Am I about to write 1000 words of cringe about dead fictional characters watching a football tournament?? yes I am and I'm thrilled!! XD

This primarily focusses on Pat btw but most of the ghosts feature a bit too.

So basically Alison didn’t really care that much about the Euros before they started, Mike however was decently optimistic regarding Engliand’s chances but isn’t the world’s biggest sport fan. But one evening they’re all watching TV and stuff and then there’s one of those animated ads that play before any major sports competition starts and Pat sees it and gets incredibly excited.

He hasn’t been able to watch a major football tournatment (live) since he was alive because Heather never had sport on at all. He begs Alison that he gets control of the TV during England matches and after using the whole “pleasseeeee I’m no trouble, I don’t usually ask for much!” Alison agrees to adjust the TV rota, much to the others ghosts disgust (the Captain is peeved about his afternoon day time TV History Channel documentaries being overwritten, and Fanny’s evening period dramas often get pushed aside but Alison eventually manages to use the Sky Box to rearrange everything for them).

For most of the group stages it’s just Pat watching, Mike will occassionally sit in but is genrally on his phone. Julian will also offer the occassional comment which Pat just rolls his eyes at and tells him to go back to his computer games. Also Pat is amazed just quite how young the team is but I digress.

So once it becomes apparent that England are doing surprisingly well (and Mike’s mates stop talking about anything else at the pub) Mike starts paying attention and by extension Alison sits in bringing multiple ghosts in her wake.

Kitty doesn’t like the idea of competition much and just wants people to have fun, she gets upset when people get kicked out but congratulats them for doing their very best. Thomas however, stands behind the sofa muttering about how it’s a barbaric sport and the lowest form of entertainment (“Polo!! Now that takes real skill!!)

The Captain wasn’t much of a football fan in life (cricket was much more his bag) but he’ll gladly sit and enjoy some friendly competition, anything he can get these days to be proud of his country. Robin doesn’t understand organised competition much but he quite like the idea of playing a game like that, he kinda misses running around and burning of energy, physical performance was super important for hunting when he was alive.

Anyway, once England makes it into the quarters (and Mike claims to have been totally invested from the beginning) Mike and Alison both start to get more and more involved, they decide to buy England flags and bunting to put across the front of the house - much to the Captain’s pleasure cause it reminds him a bit of VE Day.

Alison does actually manage to convince everyone to gather round for the final - even Fanny who literally couldn’t care less is overwhelmed with patriotism and hovers in a nearby armchair. Pat parks himself on the floor right in front of the TV so he can hear the commentary even when the others are rambling on about their analysis of the game (their analysis is incredibly poor given they’ve been dead for centuries - Kitty announces that the strikers should “use thier hips more” and no one is quite sure what that means but Thomas does suggest sending correspondence to Southgate to give him that advice.)

Anyway (I keep going off on tangents) the final obviously begins with England scoring mad quick which erupts the TV room into cheers. Mike jumps up to celebrate and puts his foot into where Pat is also sat cheering - Alison has to catch him around the waist to pull him back towards the sofa to stop Pat from gagging.

Pat then starts going on about how, with a start like that, there’s no way England can lose now. Julian rains on his parade very quickly and tells him worse things have happened and Alison jokes about what a show off Julian will be if he’s right and England lose… (Julian is obviously incredibly patriotic and wants England to win but he wants to be right much more).

Thomas quickly begins to think of himself as an expert at this “pauper’s sport” and starts to shout the generic “I know nothing about football but don’t want people to question me” phrases (“they had better begin playing it forward more, they shan’t achieve anything with cowardice like this!!)

They remain kinda optimistic going into the second half apart from Pat who is potentially the only one who recognises England slolwy losing control - but, much like with his scouts, his puts on his usual optimistic front to stop the team from becoming deflated (the team can’t hear him becuase a) he’s not at Wembley and b) he’s been dead four decades but it’s just his natural reaction).

As soon as Italy score, that’s when the deflation starts to set in. They all become slightly quieter until England start mounting an attack and then the shouting begins again.

Pat tries to explain the concept of extra time to the others but few understand and begin suggesting their own tie break ideas. Kitty suggests a draw would be better, everybody wins. Fanny suggests someone should concede (she doesn;t specifiy who but it’s very much implied). Robin’s idea is to continue with extra time then release a bear onto the pitch at a random point “for the drama” (I would watch that though).

But no, Pat and Mike are both very quiet throughout extra time. Thomas is thrilled because he believes Southgate has listened to his ongoing generic advice to “bring on Grealish” - realistically he’s peeved Love Island isn’t on, he likes to make fun of it and announce repeatedly how “the modern world has no concept of love!!”

Once it gets to penalties Kitty is off. She can’t stand the tension and covers her eyes to avoid having to watch somebody lose in this way. Mary sits beside her on the sofa petting her hair like “ooh cry not, ’tis but a game child” which really doesn’t help the mood. After every single shot, there’s just a little burst of gasps and strangled noises from everyone except Pat who is just waiting and praying that his first tournament in 40 years is going to be a dramatic win.

When England (spoilers from over a month ago) lose, silence falls across the room before Julian finally breaks it: “I don’t mean to say I told you so but…” he is interrupted VERY quickly by shouting from everyone else. Eyes quickly fall on Pat who hasn’t said anything since the penalties began, he hadn;t even turned to look at anyone else yet. He slowly stood up and said with a very fake smile “well it was a deserved win… if you’ll excuse me” and then he fazes through the wall behind him never to be seen again.

“Julian, that really was uncalled for,” Alison tells him. Pat seems normal for the next few days but most people can tell he’s very disappointed, especially as Mike has to get the ladder out again to do the really sad “flag taking down ceremony” everyone did the day after.

Pat’s finally brought out of his slump by Kitty who asks him what he would do if his scouts failed at something - he says he’d tell them they did really well for trying their best and give them some tips to improve. “Exactly,” Kitty says. “You’d still be proud of what they achieved, right?” All the ghosts are pretty excited by the prospect of a world cup next year.

So there we go,, cheers for the ask!! I apologise for this being cringe as fuck and I really hope it gets to the right people XD I’m having a day of trying to finish as many projects as I can over the next few days before series 3 so I can essentially start afresh after the new episodes are out - I know I’m going to have a lot of ideas and inspiration.

#bbc ghosts #max's ghost post

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hopesbarnes · 5 years ago

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Speak Now

Based on the song Speak Now by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your best friend's wedding is just wrong. Wrong dress, wrong decor, and mostly wrong bride for him to marry.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending

Everything was wrong. You’d imagined this wedding a thousand different ways, a thousand different times. But it never looked like this. The ten bridesmaids are dressed in varying pastel shades, and their dresses could rival that of a Toddlers and Tiaras competitor. There’s enough tulle that the dresses could probably stand straight up on their own. The archway is covered in tacky balloons ranging in colors to match the bridesmaid gowns. The wedding dress resembles a cupcake and has a see-through corset top.

It’s far from the simple modern wedding you envisioned. You imagined flowy chiffon dark teal dresses on your two best friends. The bouquets would be simple, white roses surrounded with baby’s breath. The wedding dress would have lace, long sleeves, and flow effortlessly as you walked down the aisle. A perfect day, to marry the perfect man.

But it’s not the perfect day. It’s not even your day at all. It’s hers. She won him over, and he proposed to her. As the so-called ‘best friend’ you had to accept the invite and quiet the voice that wanted to scream Julia Roberts’ “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy” line from My Best Friend’s Wedding.

You walk down the hall towards the men’s dressing and overhear Natasha yell at her bridesmaids because their nails were painted the wrong color. Yikes. How Bucky fell in love with a nightmare like her you’d never know. How he didn’t see you all along you’d never know either. You get to the room to find Bucky and Steve both staring dumbfounded at the tie around Bucky’s neck.

“How the two of you made it this far in life, I’ll never know,” you say entering the room.

“With clip-on ties and Ma’s who pitied us,” Steve answers and you tie both men’s ties.

“You look handsome, she’s a lucky girl,” you say tightening the material and kissing his cheek. “I’d say Peg’s lucky too but let’s face it she is way better than you.”

“Oh, I am not arguing with that. I don’t know who told her to take a chance with someone like me, but I thank my lucky stars they did,” the blonde man says blissfully. The two of them had been married for 5 years now and had a 2-year-old girl named Sarah. They had another baby on the way, but you weren’t even sure if Peggy had told her husband yet so you didn’t dare share that secret.

“How are ya’ feeling?” you ask the darker hair man.

“Nervous, and like I’m forgetting something,” he admits. You manage a weak smile back. You thought it’d be easier watching the man you were desperately in love with getting ready for his wedding to another girl. He wasn’t yours, he never was. So why was this so hard?

“I’m sure she’s made sure everything was in order. I should go grab a seat, just wanted to make sure you were good,” you manage to squeak out. A part of you was hoping he would be a mess and want to call off the whole engagement.

He smiled back and you snuck from the room. Thankfully the bathroom was nearby and you were able to make it in there before the tears started falling. Your entire life you pictured marrying this man, and now it was really hitting that you wouldn’t.

It was Kindergarten when you first met his blue eyes. The two of you only 5 then. You fell at recess which caused you to skin your knee and pull the bow from your hair. Everyone continued to play, but Bucky. He tried to retie your hair (it failed but made you giggle) and after that, you were by his side for good.

In Middle School things shifted, he no longer was Bucky who came over for playdates. He was Bucky, the boy with cute floppy hair and a smile that made you swoon. He was your first crush, and you longed for the day he would tell you he liked you too. But that day didn’t come and you remained friends throughout the awkward years.

Then in High School, he became popular. With High School came Steve. The huge jock surprised you by being kind-hearted. He was already dating Peggy and she became your best friend quickly. The two men met through football. Bucky was Quarterback, co-captain with Steve and everyone wanted to date him. You included. He never looked at you that way though. Instead, he dated a new girl every month and followed the cheerleaders like a lovesick fool. It didn’t matter that you were on the Cheer team too, or laughed at his jokes. He only saw you as his best friend.

The four of you both were accepted to the same school for college and you roomed with Peggy while Bucky roomed with Steve. The two of them knew you were completely in love with the guy and tried their hardest to make him see that he cared for you as well. But it never happened. You decided the time would never come and dated for the first time. A series of people came and went, and every time you compared them to the guy you grew up with.

After college, Bucky met the redhead at work. She was the first woman he had to chase after, and the first one that lasted longer than two months. He never saw her snobby behavior, or that she was horrible to be around. Peggy couldn’t stand to be around the woman, and Steve struggled to find nice things to say. But when he proposed everyone faked a smile and congratulated him. If he was happy, you were happy. Right?

Except now here you are, in a bathroom at your best friend’s (love of your life) wedding sobbing. It should be you in the dress, getting the guy. You knew him better than he knew himself. You knew his favorite band, held him when he found out his mom died, stayed up for hours helping him study for tests. You were the one who deserved the happily ever after.

But he did too, and his happily ever after didn’t involve you. So you caught your breath, wiped your tears, and fixed your dress. It was selfish to take away from his day. So you made your way to the seats and took deep breathes as the ceremony began.

Bucky stands at the front of the room, looking nervous. Steve stands at his side, and other friends follow in suit to form the groomsmen. The typical music starts to play, and the sound feels like nails on a chalkboard. Natasha moves down the aisle perfectly as if she were a runway model. You watch as she greets him, and he doesn’t look any calmer.

The ceremony starts and you almost blank out. But you hear the words “speak now” and you can’t hold it back anymore. With courage found from deep within you stand. The entire room gasps and you manage to see Steve stand with a smile.

“Don’t do it. Don’t get married,” you say surprising yourself.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Don’t get married to her. I- It isn’t right. I should have said it years ago but I’m in love with you. I can’t stand to see you with her. You should be with me. I’m the one who makes you smile, I’m the one whos been by your side since the beginning, I’m the one who loves you so much it hurts. Watching you be with her is killing me.”

“I-”

A moment of realization hits you and you recognize that you just objected to a wedding.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that. I. I’m sorry,” you say before running out of the building.

Outside you catch your breath and know that you’ve truly lost it. No sane person objects at a wedding. Who were you kidding, there was no way that he would give up everything for you. You made a fool of yourself in front of all your friends, and his entire family. You could never show your face again. You accept defeat and begin to walk to your car, deciding that you need to change your name and move far away.

You grab your keys from the clutch your holding and unlock the car.

“Wait,” you hear from behind your back. Turning you see a disheveled Bucky.

“What are you doing!” you exclaim.

“You love me?” he asks sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry. I should have just sat quietly and not ruined everything,” you say fumbling with your hands.

“You love me?” he repeats.

“Of course I love you, James.”

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I heard you giggle at the ribbon I tried to tie in your hair. I thought you didn’t feel the same way and have been trying to move on for over two decades. I don’t love Natasha. I thought marrying her would get me over you.”

“You love me?” you iterate the words Bucky had asked you.

“We’re really stupid huh?”

“I can’t believe you just ran out of your wedding.”

“I can’t believe you objected!” he says laughing.

“Do you wanna go somewhere and talk?” you ask.

“More than anything,” he says getting in your car.

The two of you drive to a diner and order a meal. You look out of place completely dressed up eating burgers.

“Wait, what happened with the wedding?” you ask.

“Steve said he would handle it so who knows.”

It turns out Steve let Natasha know she was horrible and shrugged his shoulders explaining everyone should take food from the reception hall and go home.

A year and a half later another wedding happened. This one looked identical to your dreams, down to the man holding your hand and reciting his vows. But this time there were no objections. He chose you, and you actually got the happily ever after.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #Marvel #Song fic

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madi2112 · 4 years ago

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The long sordid history of October 31

For me anyways...

I. The early years

It began as a child when I got old enough to have even a small voice in what my Halloween costume should be.

The same question would come up every year and every year the war would begin.

See, I would pick what would be deemed as an "extremely unacceptable " costume by my parents.

Nurse, Witch, Princess, Nun etc. Every suggestion I made was vemently rejected. Often times violently.

Astronaut, Cowboy, Football player and worse were some of the approved costumes thrown back at me.

So in the end, after a lot of fighting, screaming and crying we would settle on a "non-gender" costume. Ghost, Skeleton and other nonsense was the compromise.

I hated it.

So I just gave up on Halloween. Always seemed to "be sick" for those last days of October.

Until I was a teenager that is.

Then Halloween became a favorite of mine.

This turnaround came because I was allowed to go to actual costume parties alone. Finally! I could go in the costume of my choosing. A Cheerleader one year, A Princess, A Southern Belle and more. Often a different costume for each party I was attending that year.

It was tricky work just getting out of the house. I dawned an "appropriate " costume while leaving (making sure my parents saw me) and then changed as soon as I could get out of sight.

It was awesome! I finally got to be the most like myself as I could be. I could finally see at least a glimpse of the real me in a mirror or a reflection. Those times were so special. Iwas dressed as myself and away from the house, not hiding in the bathroom scared of every little sound that might signal my discovery.

Halloween would continue to be a favorite of mine for many years.

Until it wasn't.

II. The good gets better.

I managed to still enjoy Halloween for many more years but not for the same reasons as before. With my real self locked away deeply in the closet I shared the holiday with the love of my life Cyndi.

We would watch scary movies, have a spooky dinner, give out candy and occasionally go to a party.

She would often go in costume while I would always go in either no costume or a T-Shirt that said " This IS my costume".

Remember, I was deep in closet at this time.

In summer of 1995 we found out Cyndi was pregnant, with the baby due in January of 1996.

We had been together a long time at this point and even engaged for almost 10 years. We were living in Dallas Texas at the time and decided to go ahead and finally get married.

A 10 day trip was planned to visit San Diego, Los Angeles and a ceremony in Las Vegas was booked. The only day left avaible to fit that wedding ceremony into our schedule?

October 31st, of course.

We informed our friends and family and only a childhood friend of mine in San Diego and his wife could make the wedding ceremony.

Cyndi's mom planned a reception for us at her home and we had many visitors for the celebration of our offical union.

So our wedding anniversary would fall on Halloween day every year. Which would prove to be difficult once our son was born and got old enough to enjoy the holiday himself.

So we would often celebrate our anniversary the week after.

I always planned the most romantic most creative most fun trips we could afford at the time.

Las Vegas, Disneyland, Park City, Jamaica, the locations varied year by year.

For our 10th Anniversary I really went all out and planned a trip to Hawaii. Including a vow renewal on the beach in Maui in the back of the Grand Wailea Resort on Wailea Bay.

A trip of some sort continued on every year until 2014.

The year I came out.

III. The bottom falls out.

After I came out as transgender things got really bad, really fast.

I had been struggling within myself and facing what I had known all my life. But the biggest struggle was knowing it would hurt her.

I was in this intense mental and emotional arm wrestling match in my own head and because of it I wasn't treating her very well.

I was depressed, angry, short tempered, withdrawn and overall a lousy person to the one I loved the most.

So it should have been no surprise when she found someone else.

Yet when it was confirmed it devastated me.

The confirmation occurred on what day?

You got it, October 31st.

I had moved into my own apartment by then trying to begin the transition process.

As I was getting ready for work that morning I received a text message saying "Good morning my love"

But it wasn't for me.

It was for this other person.

On our 19th wedding anniversary no less.

I had already been missing her so very much as I lived alone. I was already thinking of trying to salvage what was left of our marriage.

This spured me into action.

But it was to late.

For 11 months I tried to reconcile with her. I got rid of my apartment, canceled transition, went back into full dating mode and treated her like I should have all along.

Like the love of my life.

It didn't work.

On October 31st 2015, I spent my first ever anniversary in 20 years without her. And the fathest we had been apart in 30 years.

I spent the evening camped in front of the Magic Kingdom here in Florida crying.

And five years later I'm not really any better.

I still send her flowers or a gift for our anniversary.

This year to mark our 25th it was white roses delivered and a diamond with 3 large rubies in a sterling silver necklace.

She cordially thanked me but had no response to the Happy Anniversary text I sent this morning.

I have tried to move on but can't. I tried finding someone new but her showdow loomed large across my heart. I tell myself to move forward, but I can't.

My heart is still with her and always will be.

Yet she seeming doesn't want it.

I'm still completely devastated. And will be ever day of the remaining time I have left.

And even worse every October 31st.

~Madison HRT1362

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xlady-saya · 4 years ago

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i’ve had a love of my own [ch 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

"What do you remember most about the night you were inducted into the hall of fame?"

Neil's suit collar feels especially tight as he descends from the podium, his body pulling him in one direction and one direction only. The smile on his face feels too tight, but the hoard of smiling faces and applauding hands around him don’t seem to notice. The rabbit instincts, as Andrew would call them, surge up aggressively. Neil hates public appearances like this, especially when the event is partly focused on him. He can only hope his speech wasn't too terrible.

People shout out their congratulations as he passes, but they all blend together like an oil slick meeting water. Pretty on the outside, but otherwise devastating to the fragile nature of his mind. Bright lights above bounce off full champagne glasses, creating a blurry horizon he has to squint at.

Years of public exposure has done nothing for his dislike of crowds, and he chases the feeling of Andrew's protective bubble. Warm, safe, home.

It feels like that one time Nicky dragged him to a party hosted by the baseball team in college, and left him to go hurl his guts out over the side of the house. At a certain point, Neil had been so overwhelmed he had hastily retreated from the drunk mob into the safe haven of the bathroom.

It's an eerily similar feeling, except this time his safe haven comes in the form of Andrew, suave and bored as he leans against the back wall. Much, much better.

Neil nearly trips over his feet in an effort to reach him, but Andrew is always one step ahead. As if sensing Neil's distress, Andrew extends a hand, and Neil refrains from rolling his eyes at the muffled gasp he hears somewhere in the back.

Catching a glimpse of them acting like a couple is akin to seeing a shooting star in the daytime, according to tabloids. In Neil's mind, they all simply don't look hard enough. Sometimes just the way Andrew looks at him makes Neil feel like they should be behind closed doors, with how it radiates off both of them. He's not sure why people don't see it, because surely Andrew's denials aren't believable. He's incredibly affectionate, if all his gifts and gestures say anything. And more than that...

At the end of any given day, if someone checked, Andrew's fingerprints would be all over Neil. Some on the back of his wrist, trickling down his spine and ghosting over his lower back, dotted along his throat.

Skin deep, with heat that travels even farther.

He takes Andrew's hand gratefully, letting himself be pulled in by the relief of that unparalleled shelter.

"You call that a speech, Josten?" Andrew asks, though Neil catches the spark that sets his eyes aflame. Good—Neil missed it. These events sap the energy out of Andrew like a vacuum, and he knows he only puts up with them for Neil's sake. Neil is happy to be a compact little battery when Andrew needs it.

Neil readjusts their hands but doesn't pull away, giving Andrew a small squeeze to pair with his smirk.

"Like you could do better," he snarks, but moves against the wall anyways, shoulder pressed to Andrew's. They've both bulked up from years with the pros, but where Neil will always be somewhat lithe, Andrew is stocky and built like brick. Neil sighs, breathing in the scent of Andrew's cologne and the subtle mint of nicotine gum.

There are still some eyes on them, but people are mostly looking at the next speaker. Neil can't make out Kevin or Thea in the crowd, but that's probably a good thing given what's about to happen. "You didn't even give a speech," he remarks playfully, a hint for Andrew to chase.

Andrew purses his lips, not taking it until Neil leans further into his space. Neil knows he has the advantage here; he's dressed in a fitted suit, personally picked out by Andrew, with blue accents that match their team (and additionally, his eyes). However, that’s not Neil’s biggest advantage, considering he's wearing the watch Andrew bought him for Christmas—the one with a rabbit stamped cleanly into the back of the metal face. 'Now you can't use your dead phone as an excuse,' Andrew had said, but Neil had seen through it.

Neil nudges him cheekily, gesturing to the room full of people.

"Surprised you're even here," Neil adds, feigning shyness in another effort to break through Andrew's (flimsy) blockade.

It works. Neil's not sure if Andrew's gotten softer over time, or if he's gotten better at this. Though he guesses he's the same. There are not many walls left for Andrew to scale on his end either.

"Don't be stupid," Andrew replies, firm and sharp. It sends comfortable shivers down Neil's spine, Andrew’s sternness causing the joke to evaporate. Even the insinuation that he'd miss Neil's crowning achievement...he won't allow it.

Come to think of it, Andrew's probably thought about it more than Neil. Neil worked so hard for this moment, to make a name for himself in the sport he adores. And he's proud of himself, he is, and he deserves to be in the hall of fame with how much he's fought. Yet now that he's actually here, surrounded by people who want nothing more than to sing his praises, all he needs is...

Neil giggles, whispering in quiet Russian. "You're proud of meeee."

Andrew huffs, but Neil powers on. "Admit it or...you know what will happen, don't you?"

"Neil."

"You look really handsome tonight—"

"Neil, I'm serious," Andrew tries, and while Andrew isn't the type to blush, the way his entire body stills might as well be equivalent to a fire. Neil's hand drifts to Andrew's lower back, because casual touches are second nature to them now. Instead of pushing away from the touch, Andrew's back bends for him, and Neil's gives a subtle press.

Truly, this is Neil's favorite tactic, complimenting Andrew. He'd learned in their last year of college that Andrew can't handle it, and the blond can try to say he hates it all he wants. But Neil never hears a 'no,' does he? "I love seeing the way the suit jacket fits over your shoulders. It reminds me of how strong you are. You're my anchor, you know? You always keep me safe, I feel like I can do anything if you're there. I love knowing this is real, that you're here with me and you'd fight to keep us—"

Neil jumps when Andrew turns on him, but his triumphant grin sits firmly in place.

Andrew leans him in to cut him off with a kiss, like he's accustomed to, but that's not something he's willing to give the paparazzi today. He takes Neil's hand again, glancing around. "We're leaving," he says, because he knows that's what Neil really wanted all along. Duh, Neil already knows Andrew is proud of him. "I've had it with this place."

Neil's body sings at the word choice, at the words unspoken: 'but not with you.'

"Mhm," he agrees happily. When Andrew had been inducted into the hall of fame, they'd ditched the ceremony even earlier than this. So it's about time. "What's the plan?"

Andrew doesn't miss a beat. He tilts his head in the direction of the far doors, and Neil zeroes in on them. He'd clocked all the exits when they first arrived from force of habit, so he follows along with Andrew easily. "Reporters are at the west wing entrance, we'll have to sneak out the service entrance past the kitchens. It's handled."

Neil smirks broadly, and lets Andrew lead the way. One advantage to being so short? It's a hell of a lot more efficient to duck down behind people. "Did you already make a deal with the wait staff?"

Andrew's expressions in public are still quite reserved and closed off, but Neil can feel the smug energy radiating off his back as they push through the kitchen doors. None of the staff even bat an eye. In fact, some of them are trying extremely hard to not look at them.

Neil looks at Andrew, brow raised.

"You'd be surprised what a couple autographs can get you," Andrew says, pulling them around a corner to survey the last stretch between them and the outside world. They should be in the clear, but the last thing they want is to run into a security guard or overactive publicist walking through these back hallways. Neil can't contain his excitement though, his leg thumping uncontrollably against the linoleum. Andrew pauses when he notices, and there's that flash of amusement Neil loves so much. "Control yourself, bunny."

"Stop making me wait," Neil shoots back, because he rarely has the opportunity to be this rebellious. As much as he cusses out reporters and fights people on the actual court, he misses the giddy mischief of sneaking around with Andrew. It's like making out on the roof all over again, or trying to be quiet during movie nights with Andrew's hand caressing his thigh.

It's exhilarating, and he can read Andrew's physical cues so well by now. The shift of his feet, the tension in his shoulders...It's like when he's about to block a shot with his bare hands, except this time he pulls Neil down the hall in a sprint.

He knows he's supposed to be quiet, but the best he can do is muffle his laughter with his free hand as he lets Andrew carry them out of the venue.

If Neil bumps into a cart of metal trays, they're long gone before anyone can react to the sound.

The Lotus comes to a stop in the empty parking lot of the old football stadium. It's one of their favorite places to escape to, a project the city keeps claiming it will repurpose but never does. The lampposts lining the giant lot still work, but there's not a car in sight, the old building dark and menacing. To Neil, it's just...theirs.

Neil stumbles out of the small car, missing the backseat of the Maserati. He wishes they were driving their new Maz instead, but it's Andrew's signature car, and they knew they'd need to lay low.

Ha. To think they'd be invisible in a car like this.

Again Neil has to right himself, his pants still sitting halfway down his thighs. He's glad Andrew thought ahead with bringing them a change of clothes, but the cramped space isn't the best for changing into jeans. He has a feeling Andrew did that on purpose, forgoing Neil's sweats.

Doesn't help that Neil's legs are jelly for other reasons.

Andrew slides out of the driver’s side with a lot more finesse, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he comes around. Helpless, Neil drops his arms and lets Andrew pull up his pants.

It's the little things.

Neil smiles when Andrew sighs, loading some of his weight on top of Neil. He won't call it a recharge, Neil just knows. Neil plays with the loose strands of hair at Andrew's nape, at peace in the piercing cold, no real landmark in sight apart from the decaying stadium. It's weird; it reminds him a lot of when he and his mother would camp out in abandoned lots. Vantage points from all sides, but the risk of exposure and openness were high too.

Here though, more than ten years later, Neil basks in the vulnerability, because nowhere feels unsafe with Andrew in his arms like this. He lets Andrew sway them back and forth for a bit, and yeah, this is preferable to the sounds of clinking champagne glasses and excessive applause.

His publicist will give him shit for it later, but he wouldn't exactly be Neil Josten if he didn't cause problems.

Neil smiles into the distance, watching the flickering of a nearby lamppost. "The movie starts in an hour," he says eventually, and Andrew nods into Neil's neck once before pulling away. There's no disappointment in his eyes, and he taps Neil's watch to the beat of a song Neil can't place.

Instead, he just zips up Andrew's open fly, smirking at the unimpressed stare he gets. "You're a nuisance."

"I know," Neil says proudly, and watches as Andrew goes back to the driver's side. He looks a lot cozier and harder to recognize now, dressed in Neil's Palmetto hoodie and jeans.

"C'mon, we need to grab food still," Andrew says, and at the reminder, Neil's stomach growls. If they had stayed an hour more at the event they probably would've been fed fancy catered meals, but that would've messed with their Friday tradition of greasy drive in food.

Neil knows they’re showing a double zombie movie feature today, and he does not want to miss it. He straps in just in time for Andrew to hit the gas, and doesn't even speak up about all the traffic laws they break to make it there on time.

"How mad do you think Kevin is?" Neil asks when Andrew is passing him his soda. He fits it snuggly in between his thighs, jumping from the cold. It can't be helped; the lone cupholder is reserved for Andrew's milkshake, in danger of overflowing from whipped cream.

Andrew turns back to the cashier at the drive thru, and their eyes are still on the verge of popping out of their sockets. They must be new. The other coworkers regard Andrew and Neil with warm familiarity, a little too used to the two famous athletes rolling up for food their nutritionist would not approve of. Andrew takes their bag from the worker without much acknowledgement of his shock, peeling off before they can so much as stutter a sound of disbelief.

They'll get used to it.

Greedily, Neil digs through the bag.

"I think he expects it by now," Andrew answers, uncaring. His eyes flick to the side when Neil's rummaging pauses, and Neil sends him a suspicious look.

"Two fries," he states, not quite a question, but a confirmation of what he's seeing at the bottom of the bag. Two orders of fries.

Then, in the privacy of their car, Andrew lets his feelings shine through. He rolls his eyes, but the edge of a smile plays on his lips. "Don't act like you don't eat half of mine. I got you your own for once."

A 'hmph' escapes Neil's mouth, and he holds a fry in front of his face. He can't exactly refute Andrew's claims, he is a notorious fry fiend, but...

He doesn't have to like it.

"Aren't I sweet?" Andrew says, mockingly, and Neil hates that the answer is actually yes.

"Salty," he corrects, surrendering to pop the fry into Andrew's mouth.

That's all he's getting from Neil's stash though.

The Lotus roars as Andrew pulls away from the stand and up the nearby hill. Most people at the drive in come early, eager to get spots closer to the screen, but they have a special spot far away from the throng of people. The hill only houses one or two other cars who have the same idea, spaced out far and free to talk or fool around in the backseats.

Neil never pays them any mind; it's hard to give attention to anything that isn't Andrew once the blond actually starts talking, offering theories about the plot or characters on screen he may or may not actually believe.

Neil has a suspicion Andrew just likes giving him more reasons to talk too.

The first movie is older, remastered but still carrying that grainy quality old horror movies have. The colors are subdued, almost rusty, and Neil's fixated by the way the flashes dance on Andrew's skin. Whether it be splotches of red or the ominous sunset, just before the eerie music begins, the scenes reflect in Andrew's golden eyes to the point where Neil can hardly follow the story.

Not that it matters, it's zombies. What more is there to get?

"Are you satisfied with the effects for once?" Andrew drawls, though surely he knows Neil's been staring at him for the last ten minutes. He doesn't put up a fight anymore when it comes to that, instead playing with Neil's salt ridden fingertips and drinking his milkshake.

Smiling, Neil lets his eyes drift to the screen. A show of gore and fake blood has him nodding, not nearly as affronted as he usually is. The woman on screen is a good actress, though movies will never get true anguished screams exactly right.

"Mm, practical ones are better," Neil says, commenting on the lack of CGI. Another good thing about older movies: they had to build the monsters themselves, had to spend a lot more time on the makeup and fake guts. It's slightly more unsettling, considering what Neil has seen and done, but less annoying than the computer generated stuff.

When Neil zones out too long, he feels a fry poke his cheek, and he opens his mouth automatically. Andrew watches him with a small smile. Neil's not sure when Andrew grew more comfortable smiling, but somewhere along the way they both got used to it. It's a subtle, quiet expression on the blond, but that's how Neil likes it. Andrew's personality will never be loud, never cheery like Nicky's or Matt's. But it feels like a secret, something reserved for those that mean a lot to the blond. Neil can never feel anything but pride when he sees it, when Andrew lets himself express a bone deep contentment for those people in his life.

For Neil.

"What is it?" Andrew asks, and Neil waves at the screen, bored with it all of a sudden.

"I'll never understand the point of people who approach the first zombie," he says, and he says this every time. And alright, he knows that's the only way to truly kick off the plot but it always rubs him the wrong way.

"It's not like they know it's a zombie, Neil," Andrew replies, in reference to the next unfortunate victim to approach the zombified man in the park. The zombie had been stumbling around, and the older lady simply couldn't help but ask if the man was alright. Being a good samaritan will get you killed every time.

Neil throws Andrew a look, aware that Andrew isn't so much inviting Neil's rant as much as he's poking it hard with a stick.

"Excuse me, I'm already wary of normal people walking around," Neil points out. And that's justified in his mind, given what he's been through. People are weird and should be avoided unless absolutely necessary. Neil's therapist, who he's begrudgingly getting used to, might not agree but Neil's not quite ready to fully tackle the issue yet. Instead, he gestures to the way the poor lady's face is now being eaten. "I see someone stumbling around like that? I'm not going near them! At minimum you should consider them drunk and violent."

Or at the very least: real fucking annoying.

"I think you have more survival experience than most people," Andrew says, but Neil knows he's not actually defending the character's stupidity. Andrew agrees, and his smile grows when Neil huffs.

For effect, Neil slumps back into his seat, arms crossed. When Andrew tries to reach for his hand, he playfully swats it away, doing his best to not show cracks in the mask he's wearing. It's a skill he learned from his boyfriend, the complete lack of expression. Problem is he can seldom keep it up for longer than a few minutes.

Neil eventually smirks, right on cue, turning over in the passenger seat so his body is facing Andrew. It's not nearly as seductive as he wants it to be, what with the food wrappers and wrinkly clothes, but he knows it's enough to be infuriating. "You think it's hot," he sing songs, and Andrew sighs.

This time, when he reaches out, Neil doesn't refuse the offered hand. On screen, more unassuming citizens are devoured.

The image of the crowd reminds him of the banquet, of his switched off phone that's probably blowing up with questions about where they are. It's another world at this point—the expensive suits, dinner, the rehearsed words.

Here in their car, sitting in the dark in his hoodie with his boyfriend's hand in his, Neil feels far more spoiled. That doesn't mean he's not appreciative though, and the weight of his accomplishment sits warm in his chest, flowing through him to remind him it's not a dream. He's alive, he's here, he's with—

"Yes," Andrew interrupts Neil's train of thought, voice nearly a whisper. "But your downfall is obvious."

That gets Neil's attention, though he does preen from the compliment. "Hm?"

Andrew shifts in his own seat, and for the first time that night, Neil realizes how tired the blond must be. His muscles slump with exhaustion, his eyes blinking away the strain, but it's a good tired, the kind you feel when you can finally relax and sink into your bed. Home. Neil experiences that a lot, when it's the two of them, and the scope of the feeling is only intensified by Andrew's words.

"You'd go back," he reminds Neil, because that's now something that can't be debated. Neil's breathing stutters, and he hears the unspoken words: for me.

It's no surprise that no matter how things change, Andrew's first instinct will be to chip away at something, to present a flaw to protect himself. Neil's not sure he's even aware he's doing it, the need to value himself as something lowly and not worth fighting for.

Neil will keep proving him wrong, time and time again.

"That's not a downfall, that's strengthening my team," Neil quips, and Andrew huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

But Neil won't let him get away with that. He picks the buzzing insecurity swarming around Andrew's head right from the air, and crushes it until there's nothing left. At least for the moment; with them it always comes back, they just get better at dealing with it.

"I mean it," Neil says, and it's not him being a shit like back at the banquet. This isn't a barrage of compliments to make Andrew flustered, and from the way the blond stills, he understands that. Neil's tone holds an almost dangerous quality, ready to slash anyone who would dare refute it. It's hollow, haunting; he would've been a much better actor for horror films than the ones in this movie. "Andrew, if you're with me, I can do anything."

That hasn't stopped being true, and he doesn't think it'll ever be the case. He won't ever be without Andrew.

Andrew doesn't tell him to be quiet or stop, just lets the words settle between them and mix with the suspenseful music from the screen. There's a muffled scream below from an open window as soon as the jump scare happens, but neither of them flinch. Andrew's gaze bores into him as the blond shifts in his seat, mirroring Neil's awkward pose.

They're both still so compact though, they make it work. Neil pulls their hands up onto the center console, rubbing the back of Andrew's palm.

"Hey," he says stupidly, after he's been staring too long. Andrew's gaze turns sleepy, gooey, if Neil will be so bold. Andrew doesn't respond to his earlier claim, and Neil knows parts of Andrew's language well enough to know that the silence speaks more towards his agreement than anything.

Andrew may not accept all of it, but he'll hold it close, he'll remember it and chew on it as much as he needs to. That's all Neil can hope for.

"Hi," Andrew whispers back, during a lull in the on screen violence, and Neil scoots as close to him as he can. He doesn't want to miss a single syllable, a breath.

Without much else to say, Neil lets the giddiness from before rise up, finally speaking on it. His smile is too much to smother, but he tries and fails. "We're in the hall of fame together."

In an instant Andrew's smile falls, but it's an obvious show. And he calls Neil dramatic; it's a shared behavior. Neil laughs uncontrollably from it, from the way Andrew shakes his head up at the roof of the car.

"Junkie," he mumbles, because there's not much more to explain.

Or so Andrew thinks. Really it's less about Exy in that moment for Neil. The part that makes him so overjoyed, that pushes him over the edge into bliss...

"I'm proud of you," Neil manages through the laughter, and repeats himself with a few reallys thrown in for good measure. But still, Andrew doesn't get it. Or he does, and he's being a shit on purpose.

"Tonight was about you, you know," the blond tries, tone suffering, but the itch of a smile threatens his blank facade again, and Neil's main job is to poke and prod it out of hiding. It's a fun game, no longer difficult. Not that he ever minded, not that he could mind anything about what makes Andrew...Andrew.

Neil looks up at the ceiling too, as if he can see through it, like he can see far beyond their universe and beyond the cosmos. They're so insignificant, he knows, but funny how these moments never feel swallowed up by the weight of it all. One day though, he supposes they'll fade into that nothingness, and that's why it's such a comfort to him, to know their names will be next to each other in some way beyond gravestones. "I know, but I just like to remind you. Everyone is going to remember you now."

Andrew is one person he doesn't want to ever be forgotten, for how he makes Neil feel...it would be criminal for that to even be a possibility. Neil huffs a laugh; Andrew's more the type to wax poetic, to say sappy bullshit and then try to act like he hasn't. But here Neil is, heart singing.

There will never be a way to leave that feeling behind as evidence, so everyone who ever doubted Andrew will know, but Neil can wish...Neil can dream. He can do whatever he wants.

Andrew tilts his head, his free hand casting itself forward, gesturing to the world beyond the screen, beyond the ends of the planet. "There’s no point in being remembered like that. When we’re gone, we’ll just be gone."

And in some ways, Neil agrees, or at least understands. Legacies only mean so much, can only withstand so much time. There will be other sports heroes, new rookies and players with their own accomplishments, their own time in the spotlight. But that's not what Neil means, not what he believes in. His fame is meaningless, it will wither and die. So will Andrew's. But...but, he's not afraid now to have that spark of want, the need to preserve as much as possible.

Though if he's being honest, and he won't tell Andrew because he's sure to refute it, there will never be as good a goalie. Neil knows that.

Neil grins gently, squeezing Andrew's hand to call his attention back to where it belongs. Andrew listens, always bends for Neil in some way. Andrew extends his free hand across his lap, and in sync, Neil lifts his leg to drape it across the console. Andrew catches his ankle gently, thumb resting in the dip of bone. Neil shivers; he's been treated with such care for years, but it's never easy to fathom all the way. Andrew's hands are weapons, and yet he cradles Neil like glass, like he's not the tainted mess he is under these clothes.

"Normally I would agree, but you’re kind of my loophole," Neil whispers, shrugging in that infuriating way, the one that communicates clearly that nothing Andrew says can convince him otherwise.

Andrew is familiar with it, and is no longer dead set on fighting Neil every step of the way.

"You're ridiculous," the blond says instead, tracing through Neil's jeans, over the memorized lines and scars of his calves. Neil wonders if he likes to do that especially in these moments, to remember Neil is real. He's not going anywhere. "I don't ever know what to do with you."

"Kiss me? That might help," Neil offers, and in the next moment Andrew is meeting him halfway over the console. Neil wasn't even aware he'd shifted so close, but then he's surrounded by just Andrew. There's a hand in his hair, tangling the curls, and his mouth opens for Andrew's like a switch has been pulled. It's automatic, a craving satisfied. Over the years, Andrew's kisses became predictable, the taste of him no longer surprising or laced with desperation. Despite all that, Neil thinks they're even better now.

It's an exhilarating feeling, to know someone so, so well, down to the press of his tongue and the slot of his lips.

Neil sighs when Andrew pulls away, breath hot and eyes lidded, and alright, maybe they're not completely predictable. Neil is always taken aback by how quick his body is reduced to jello, barely keeping himself upright.

It makes him brainless, makes him ramble, so it slips out again. "I want everyone to remember you," Neil breathes into Andrew's mouth, chasing him as he pulls back. Andrew's hand on his chest stops him, Andrew's stare as intense as ever.

It's quiet; Neil has no idea what's going on around him, either with the movie or the crowd. That's unheard of for him, isn't it? But he's not scared, or nervous. Eventually the instinct will come back, the urge to check the locked doors and look behind the car for things lurking in the shadows. But right them, it's just the two of them, wrapped up.

Andrew tugs on his leg, pulling Neil forward until his thighs hit the console, and looks disappointed they can't be glued at the hip. It's cute, but Neil bites his tongue on the comment. Andrew must sense it, because his eyes flash back up to Neil's face, reaching up to cradle it. Neil can predict that trajectory too, the way Andrew's fingers brush the burn marks.

"Idiot," Andrew says. "Only you get to remember me like this."

Damn you, Andrew.

The edges of Andrew's lips quirk up, triumphant in the face of Neil's stunned silence, but Neil refuses to admit he's won. Only...partially.

Neil will hold these moments for himself, close and free from prying eyes. He'll do that for as long as he can, covet them until he can't keep it in anymore. He supposes that's the best compromise either of them could ask for.

The swell of need in his chest intensifies, and he reaches forward to tug on Andrew's sleeve. It feels so dumb; he's allowed to touch more than this, he's allowed to grab and cradle Andrew's skin. But it's too much in the moment, and he tugs again, like he's right back in college.

"Home?" he whispers, unsure. Andrew looks around them, back at the screen and then at the moon hanging high in the sky. Technically, this is a double feature, and it feels almost wrong to pop this bubble around them. Neil's not sure he wants the moment to end either, not even when the credits for the first movie roll and early birds start to peel out of the lot. Headlights ghost over them, but the only move Andrew makes is to lean down and lower his seat all the way.

Neil, smiles, and knows exactly what to do.

They reach a silent agreement as Neil hops into Andrew's seat, fitting snugly against him as the new movie opens up:

No. Not yet.

Neil notes with amusement how the reporters sit, slightly more relaxed, like they're not quite ready to let go of their professional personas in favor of pulling their legs up. Soon enough, they'll get there. Neil's barely begun to scratch the surface, and he hopes their matching looks of disbelief will fade too.

Neil puts down his water, throat already aching, but if that's the price he has to pay so be it. He's been feeling extra lethargic today, underwater and tied at the ankles, but it's not enough to dissuade him. Rubbing his throat, he smiles. "We ended up really sore from sitting like that all night, but we didn't regret it," he says. The purr of the Lotus is so loud in his mind he almost expects for someone to roll up to the building in one.

Andrew had driven them extra careful that night.

Blake jots something down in his notepad, skims it, then crosses out something else. A question he no longer needs answered, perhaps. When he looks up, Neil is waiting. "That's where you went? You got a lot of flack for that disappearance."

Oh he did, lots of speculations; a feud with Kevin Day, a PR war, a statement about the sports climate.

Really, he'd just wanted some snuggles.

"I've caused worse scandals," Neil says, brushing it off. Compared to all the other segments he's had in the tabloids and news media over the years, including the reveal of his bloody family business, the hall of fame incident is far from important.

And honestly, Neil doesn't care about any of that. Rayah seems to sense that the sports talk won't get them anywhere, and she offers him a laugh. "Andrew wasn't very social, was he?"

Ah, good. They're learning.

Neil's demeanor changes, happily steered in the direction of Andrew, and he leans back. An understatement.

"Neither of us were," he replies, examining his nail beds. That's not entirely it though, and he knew it then too. He's not sure why he never called Andrew out on it, maybe because it was so obvious he didn't need to. "But...I think in that case he was just trying to protect me. I was tired from all the preparations all week. Even when I was young, Andrew wasn’t really keen on letting me stretch myself to my limits."

In fact, after his freshman year of college, no threats in sight, Andrew's protectiveness was even more apparent. Neil endangering himself was a thing of the past, and Andrew made sure to keep it that way. After Baltimore, Andrew simply wouldn't tolerate it. He was aware of Neil's exhaustion, his fatigue, and while he never babied Neil, he wouldn't stop himself from intervening when he could sense Neil would not.

The stress of the hall of fame ceremony sapped Neil clean of any energy, that final speech pushed him to the edge. So Andrew took his hand, and pulled him away from it.

The two reporters share a look then, and Neil gets that surge of annoyance. Andrew would tell him to calm down, that it doesn't matter, but well...

Andrew isn't here, and Neil can be as angry as he wants when people misinterpret their relationship.

After a while, Rayah clears her throat, cutting the tension. At least she has the decency to treat him with the same respect he's giving them and not lie. Neil was never one for politeness. "I'll be honest, it’s hard to imagine someone like Andrew Minyard being that way. He sounds so gentle when you talk about him."

Though the insinuation was clear: to everyone else, he was the exact opposite.

"He had a lot of sides to him," Neil responds, because it's better than the petty response of well he was. He supposes that's not fair, not to them and not to Andrew. He plays with the watch on his wrist, now a little dated and not nearly as shiny. He's pretty sure the time is off now, so he's still the rabbit, running late.

"He could be so caring, but he never gave up his firmness, or his no bullshit nature. Believe me, if he didn't agree with me, he would've let me know. He had a way of snapping me out of bad decisions...not always kindly," Neil says, still grinning.

"You sound like you didn't mind," Blake says, though the confusion is still clear.

Neil had been deceived and led astray so much in his life, forced to swallow lies and spit them back out. Being with Andrew was so freeing; he never had to worry about those things ever again.

"No, I...I loved that about him," he says quietly. He's having a bad time with words, nothing new there. It's hard to make it sensical without having experienced the relationship first hand. He wishes Dan were here, she's able to convince people of anything. Still, he pushes, he needs to explain this if nothing else. "No one ever bothered to see Andrew beyond the hard exterior. Like you said...you can't see Andrew as gentle. Well, he was seldom anything but around me as we got older. I trusted him not to lie to me, and to take care of me, and I did the same in return."

He realizes his voice is taking on a desperate quality, but he can't help it. He could fill books with anecdotes, times where Andrew held him close or was just an absolute pillar of comfort. Try as he might today, he knows he'll never say enough.

People will still remember Andrew primarily as an unfeeling ghost, as the person who punched other players or was quick to anger, though that was far from the truth. Unless Neil makes his case here, that'll never go away.

"It's not that either of you ever provided proof," Blake says, and flinches at Neil's glare. It's a fiery thing, he hasn't used it in a while, but he assumes it's still just as acidic from how guilty the reporter looks. He stutters, and backtracks as best he can. "And based on what you said, I totally get why! It's just—"

Rayah, who is far better at making a case for the public's idiocy, is quick to lean forward. "There were only a few moments people ever saw him act like he cared as much as you say," she tells him, and it's followed by a wince. "One of them...wasn't exactly happy."

Oh.

In an instant, Neil knows exactly what they mean. It was all over the place, wasn't it?

He almost forgets that; he was too busy drowning in his own terror. It was over forty years ago and yet the memory is so strong, the same pain shoots up Neil's legs. The nausea is faint, a reminder of how unbearable and sleepless the following few nights were. He remembers a sickening crack and the shout of people, the flash of cameras.

And Andrew.

Always Andrew, running towards him.

Yes, he supposes it's hard to challenge that moment between them, to categorize Andrew's actions as anything other than fierce protectiveness and worry. Yet when Neil thinks of that incident...what the public saw barely scratched the surface.

He can still feel Andrew's hands digging into his shoulders, can hear the slow footsteps walking into their home...

The room is quiet for a beat too long, and Rayah and Blake exchange a look. It's Blake that eventually clears his throat, and Neil regards him slowly, trying to shake off the beast of a memory.

It's over, it passed. But...it was important, so...

"Are we allowed to ask about that day?" Blake asks, voice small and gauging Neil's reaction.

He sighs; he can't exactly avoid it. There's lots more stories to tell after the fact that won't feel the same without the context, but there will be some conditions.

Neil nods once, tightly. He spreads it out in his head, and an old beat of paranoia surges up in him. Stupid. He's not that dangerous anymore, no one is watching him, no one is looking for him. But it has him looking at the door anyways, wondering if the room is bugged or lined with cameras he can't see. Well, he'll just be careful.

He flattens his hands across the blanket, chewing on his words. "I suppose it would be a disservice to what I'm trying to do if I didn't talk about it," Neil answers, gesturing to Rayah. "Go ahead."

Neil braces himself before taking the plunge, and gets lost in his past once again.

"The day you were injured, what was it like?"

#andreil #aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

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Ahem. As discussed, a prompt my good lady...Lucy and Flynn + fake married in Dubrovnik + the inevitable shenanigans...

Okay SO. On the plane over, there was something in the magazine about a website where tourists can go to Amsterdam and fake-marry a local for a day, so their new “spouse” can take them around the non-tourist parts of the city, and then they go their separate ways at dusk and it’s fun etc. I immediately decided that this needed a Garcy AU, for obvious reasons.

Lucy Preston wasn’t really planning on going to Croatia. In fact, she wasn’t exactly planning to go anywhere. But it’s been a rough few months to say the least – tenure meeting cancelled at Stanford, breaking up with Noah, Mom has to go back to the hospital for more tests and it isn’t looking good – and in a fit of late-night frustration, she decided to just fly somewhere over Thanksgiving break and forget about the clusterfuck that was her life for a bit. Somewhere warm, she wasn’t picky. She suggested that Amy go with her, but Amy had work and couldn’t get away, and by then, Lucy had already booked a ticket. She’s heard that Dubrovnik is beautiful, there is a university and a state archive there so she can theoretically disguise it as a research trip, and when she was running through the apparently deeply cursed Frankfurt airport to catch her connecting flight, a text popped up from Amy. Something that she thinks Lucy should try, just for shits and giggles. Some kind of app called Untourist.

Lucy took a look at it and decided that it was basically Tinder for tourists, even if the premise tried to be more classy than that. In short, you can pick a European city from the list (More Locations Coming Soon!, promises the popup), fill in some brief preference Q&As, and be matched with a local, who will fake-marry you in a ceremony complete with photos and then take you on a “honeymoon” for a day in the city. The idea is that you get to have a personal guide, explore places off the main drag – and presumably, if you hook up at the end, that’s a nice bonus, but not one that the app strictly advertises. It sees itself as promoting intercultural connections and lived experiences, rather than anything so ignominious as arranging casual sex with a hot foreigner. Apparently it got its start in Amsterdam, though, so this would not be surprising.

The split with Noah is still raw, and Lucy isn’t planning to use the app for that purpose – or indeed, at all. But after she has landed at the surprisingly tiny airport and has boarded the bus for the drive along the coast road to the city, she downloads it on a whim that she shouldn’t think through and decides it might be fun to have someone to travel with, even briefly. After she’s signed up, created a profile, and filled in her details, she is given two options to match with, and ends up going for the latter: Garcia from Dubrovnik. She thought about Marko from Zagreb, but his profile says that he’s a Dinamo Ultra, and she decided that she didn’t want to spend the day getting a crash course in the finer points of Croatian football hooliganism. Garcia it is, apparently.

Dubrovnik is insanely beautiful, with crystalline turquoise water lapping at towering medieval city walls (souvenir shops every few streets will proudly remind you that they filmed Game of Thrones here), palm trees, red-tiled roofs, old golden-stone buildings, winding side alleys, and sunlight that pours down as rich as olive oil. Since it’s November, it’s not quite as hot as in high summer, and the tourist rush is somewhat dimmed. Lucy sleeps late at her Airbnb high on a very steep side street, as the city is spread out over several hills on the side of the tall blue mountains that rise out of the water, and almost forgets that her fake wedding is today. She jumps out of bed, puts on some makeup (just because she’s not actually marrying the guy doesn’t mean she has to look completely trollish), grabs her bag, and heads down into town, following a winding alley of staircases that are probably going to be a pain to climb back up. She hopes this was a good idea. It was mostly to appease Amy, anyway. Can she cancel, or would that count as leaving Garcia at the (fake) altar?

What the hell, she’s here now, and maybe if she shows that she’s receptive to new experiences, the universe will give her a break. Lucy trots along the palm-treed square above the city walls, finds the door with the Untourist logo by the bell, and steps inside. “Dobro jutro,” she says, which is about all the Croatian she speaks, and most people have been happy to use English anyway. “I’m Lucy Preston, I have an appointment today?”

The slick Unreceptionist greets her, gives her a waiver to sign (bad experiences and/or unsatisfactory spouses are not their fault, any meeting beyond the day is done on personal terms, etc) and they await the arrival of her dashing groom-to-be. It is twelve minutes past their scheduled start time, and the Unreceptionist is making apologetic noises, when the door opens with a bit of a crash and a man who must be Garcia ducks in. He’s tall, dark, and craggy-handsome, probably in his forties, wearing aviator sunglasses, and clutching a takeaway coffee. He addresses the Unreceptionist in rapid Croatian, looks up, sees Lucy, and nods shortly. “Ah,” he says, switching to English. “Right, you’re here. Let’s go.”

“Sir,” the Unreceptionist says, looking as if he’s wondering if Garcia himself read the details and/or the release forms before signing up. “You’re supposed to…?”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to have the wedding ceremony first?”

“I’m supposed to have the what?”

At that, Lucy winces. Feeling as if this might be an opportune moment to interrupt the conversation, and wondering if it’s too late to switch to Marko from Zagreb and risk dying at an Eternal Derby game, she stands up. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Lucy Preston?”

“I know.” Garcia glances at her briefly, up and down, and then away. “What’s this about a wedding?”

“That’s the whole point of the app,” Lucy says pointedly. “Fake-married, take me to places that aren’t touristy, then at the end of the day, go our separate ways?”

Garcia looks briefly pole-axed, then seems to decide that right, well, this is on him for failing to read the terms and conditions. “Fine,” he says impatiently. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Lucy’s cheeks sting. Making a mental note to give him a zero of five stars on any feedback form that she might have to fill in to rate her experience today, she follows him into the back, where they are joined in a very non-legally-binding ceremony, have their photo taken (Garcia looks like this is a real funeral rather than a fake wedding) and finally are released into the wild, as Garcia (who is a good foot taller than her) strides ahead without waiting. When Lucy runs to catch up, he says, “Nobody told me there was a wedding involved.”

“Did you even read what they wanted?” Lucy’s tone is slightly waspish, but then, he isn’t exactly showering her in that supposedly famous Slavic hospitality. The sweet lady at the Airbnb was much nicer than this. “It was right there in the entire premise. If you don’t want to spend a day taking me around the city, fine, but maybe next time, try to actually – ”

“No,” Garcia says abruptly. “You’re here now. Let’s go.”

With that, he strides off toward the gate in the towering walls, down into the Stari Grad. Lucy thinks the view from up there must be spectacular, but she’s not actually going to get a chance to find out, because Garcia derides them as too touristy and refuses to pay 200 kuna to go up them. (This is something like $30, so it clearly is a lot, but the city sees no reason not to profit off all the Game of Thrones fans.) Nor does he think much of the main drag, the cathedral square, the rector’s palace, or any of the other usual sights. He says that Lucy can call him Flynn, but doesn’t explain why. She thinks it’s his last name, but honestly, she can’t be sure. He has the social skills of a broken-down dump truck.

Finally, since there isn’t much of Dubrovnik, at least the old town, that isn’t touristy, Lucy persuades Flynn to let them go up the walls, though by the face he makes at the cashier as he pays for their tickets, the poor man might be found floating face-down in the ocean later. They climb up to the winding ramparts, gazing out over the Adriatic to one side and the crowded, tiled roofs on the other, and on one steep section, Lucy loses her footing and nearly falls. She wouldn’t have gone over the edge, there are plenty of barriers, but Flynn flashes out a hand and steadies her. It’s the first remotely human or non-dickish thing he’s done, and she raises an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

Perhaps sensing by her acerbic tone that he has not been the world’s most satisfactory fake husband to date, Flynn has the grace to blush, or at least look somewhat chagrined. “I’d definitely get in trouble if you died.”

“Thanks,” Lucy says again, even more tartly. “Guess it’s a good thing for you that you have good reflexes?”

“I fought in the Homeland War.” Flynn glances away. It’s the first personal thing he’s shared about himself, in a casual, offhand way that makes it sound no more remarkable than getting milk from the store. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Lucy glances at him. He’s made it clear that he’s not here for the fake marriage, let alone small talk, but she paid a decent amount of money to be here with this tall idiot and he can just suffer it. “Are you from Dubrovnik?”

“I was born in Šibenik.” Flynn doesn’t break stride, obliging Lucy to trot to keep up with him. “Lived a few places around the country. It was Yugoslavia back then, though. War started in 1991.”

“I know,” Lucy says. “I mean, I’m a historian, so I was recently doing some work on 1989 and the U.S. response to the dissolution of the Iron Curtain. Technically, Yugoslavia wasn’t Soviet, right?”

“No,” Flynn says, with a sort of grim pride. “Tito and Stalin hated each other. It was…. sort of an in-between place, I suppose. We didn’t need exit visas, there was a certain amount of social freedom, and Tito liked to market it as neutral, a third country between East and West, combining the best of both and the worst of neither. Of course, he was a dictator, but supposedly a benevolent one. Most people liked him. My childhood was – ” He stops. “Well, my mother was American, anyway. Maybe that was what drew her here. Running away.”

Lucy glances up at him. She has a sense that Flynn doesn’t often talk much about his past, and decides that since they are, after all, only fake-married, she doesn’t need to pry. However, since the subject of his mother has arisen, she holds back as best she can, not wanting to dump the fraught subject of Carol Preston on a strange man who has only just met her and treated her one step above gum stuck to his shoe, but finally needs to talk about it with someone who isn’t Amy. She still isn’t sure Flynn gives a damn, but too bad for him. She mentions that it’s been hard, with the Stanford legacy and the cancer and the expectations that she would accept Noah’s proposal, and she just – well, she doesn’t know. Maybe Lucy understands a bit of Flynn’s mother, whoever she was, whyever she came here. Maybe she too was, or is, running away. Even if she has to fly all the way back to San Francisco at the end of this week, some part of her would be more than happy to fling all her responsibilities to the wind, move into some picturesque old flat in one of those tiny streets, and stay.

They descend the walls after completing their circuit, and Flynn deigns to buy her lunch at a small cafe where the menu is only in Croatian and a sign informs customers that they don’t take euros, only kuna. Lucy allows him to order something for her, and they sit there eating in semi-awkward silence. Then Flynn says, apropos of nothing, “Maria.”

“What?”

“My mother’s name.” He shrugs. “It was Maria Tompkins. She was from Houston. She moved to Yugoslavia in 1970, after the death of her first husband and son. She was traveling through Europe, I don’t know that she intended to stay here, but she met my father, so she did.”

“Oh.” Lucy wonders what it would have been like here in the seventies. Probably still beautiful, though much less developed. So Maria Tompkins fell in love, that was what made a young American woman go Red, a move that must have been regarded dimly by her friends and family back in Texas. With that sort of tragedy shadowing her past, maybe it was easier to cut all ties, to get a new passport, to learn a new language, and never look back. Lucy feels a sudden pang of sympathy with this other woman, this unknown fellow traveler, who too found herself in this corner of the world wanting to leave it all behind. Lucy has responsibilities at home, not least her job (even if they didn’t give her tenure, or at least it’s very much in academic bureaucracy limbo), her sister, her sick mother, all the encumbrances and trappings of real life. She can’t do what Maria did, no matter how much she wants to. And for some reason completely unknown to her – it certainly isn’t the pleasure of Flynn’s company – she does.

They finish lunch and head out. It’s warm enough for November that Flynn suggests they can go for a dip, though he gives her a no-clearly-not look when Lucy naively thinks this will be at Banje Beach, the main spot just south of the walls. He leads her up to the street, where they find his car and get in. It’s an Audi, and she wonders what exactly he does for a living. He has a habit of scanning their surroudings, casually flicking his gaze at passersby, in a way that she doesn’t think stems from his military service alone. In fact, she’s starting to wonder if he joined the Untourist app to case the city and/or scope out people without it being too suspicious. Maybe it’s better for everyone if she doesn’t ask about his job. He might have to suffocate her and bundle her up in a black plastic garbage bag in the boot.

Flynn, it transpires, drives like a bit of a maniac, a habit he shares with most of the other road users (especially the scooters and motorcycles). Lucy has already noticed that Croatians seem to have a rather laissez-faire attitude toward personal safety, as evidenced by their tendency to stand outside guardrails overlooking steep drops, walk the wrong way along busy highways, dart across roads in front of oncoming traffic, and jury-rig anything that isn’t actively falling apart. When she mentions this to Flynn, he shrugs. “Slavs are like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Especially Croatians. Though if you think we’re bad, you should meet the Poles.”

Lucy laughs despite herself, since that’s the first time Flynn has loosened up to flash any bit of actual humor. Well, that’s not quite true; he is remarkably sassy, has a sarcastic comment for most occasions and especially anything involving a tourist making a fool of themselves, but this is the first time that his humor has seemed gentler, more like he’s actually enjoying himself and poking a bit of self-deprecating fun rather than lashing out at the world. They drive along the cliff road for several miles in silence, until Lucy asks, “When did you move to Dubrovnik?”

“About…” Flynn hesitates, and she senses that there’s more riding on the answer to that question than he wants to let on. “Well, I lived in Zagreb until 2014.”

“And you moved here after that?”

“More or less.” Flynn adjusts the rearview mirror, which doesn’t really need it. After a long pause he says, “My wife and daughter died in 2014. I came here for – well, I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

“I’m….” Lucy feels taken aback, almost guilty that she’s been so derisive of his inability to read app terms and conditions, his clear aversion to the whole fake-married part. Not that they’ve really been acting like it, anyway, but still. She can imagine it wouldn’t be easy for her, if that ever happened, to stand up and play-act some stupid charade for an American tourist hiring you like a beast of burden, not when you’d had the real thing, not when it was gone. “Garcia,” she says, the first time she’s used that since he told her to call him Flynn. She has a sense that he prefers that, that Garcia is some place too personal where he doesn’t let people go, not any longer. “I’m sorry.”

He glances at her, and for a moment she thinks he’ll snap at her, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the tight turns with ease, until at last he says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been very much fun.”

Lucy opens her mouth by polite reflex to say that he has, and settles for a noncommital hum. Flynn seems to sense that while he might have worked his way up from zero stars, he’s still a way off from five, and parks the Audi in a pullout. They descend a narrow cliff path to the sea, he reaches out to catch her arm when her feet skid again on the pebbles, and Lucy decides she should probably warn him that she’s clumsy before she really does accidentally kill herself. But if she fell into the sea from here, she has an unaccountable sense that he’d dive in after her, no matter how odd and brusque and grumpy he is. It’s less clear whether this is because he’s starting to like her a little, or because it would be an insult to his professional competence. Maybe he’s in the Mafia.

They reach a small quay where a catamaran is tied up, Flynn strides to it and produces two life jackets, and once Lucy has climbed aboard, he swings on, undoes the ropes, and angles the sails out into the wide blue water, endless as a reflected sky. It must be a busy harbor in summer, and there’s still a decent boat traffic now: ferries, jet-skis, a few sailboats and pleasure yachts. Lucy holds on tight as Flynn carves an expert white wake. “Is this your boat, then?”

“No,” Flynn says. “But I borrow it from time to time.”

“Did you – ” Lucy gives him a very narrow stare. “Did you steal this boat?”

“No!” Flynn looks miffed that she would ask. “I know the owner, he lets me use it when I want to. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Lucy opens her mouth, starts to answer, and stops. Truth is, she isn’t sure. An hour ago she would have said a raging, self-absorbed dick with no social skills and possibly black-market employment, and parts of that are still true, but the rest, well… she can’t say exactly. He keeps letting slip these odd, vulnerable parts of him, almost in spite of himself. His past in the war, his mother running away from her old life, his dead wife and daughter, everything else. She isn’t certain what she thinks of him, exactly, but she isn’t wishing that she picked Marko from Zagreb anymore. If nothing else, Flynn is complicated, and challenging, and oddly easy to talk to, and he hasn’t told her to shut up about the family/work/life drama that she occasionally returns to venting about. Lucy thinks she’ll take that, at least.

She looks at his hands, large and sun-brown and expertly pulling and tying the knots to trim the sail, as he pulls them to a bobbing halt in the sparkling water and asks if she wants to swim. Lucy didn’t put on her bathing suit under her clothes, but she doesn’t want to go to the bother of making him drive all the way back to the Airbnb. So she strips off her shirt and jeans, and, in just her bra and underpants (hey, they’re married, even fakely), she dives in.

The water is chillier than she expected – this is the southern Mediterranean, it’s never cold no matter the season, but it is November, and she splutters and gasps as she bobs to the surface. Flynn, observing from the high-and-dry comfort of the catamaran, smirks at her, and Lucy gives him the finger. “You dick,” she shouts. “You could have warned me.”

Flynn shrugs, apparently utterly untroubled either by this accusation or by her attitude; indeed, he grins as if he appreciates this feistiness, her willingness to talk back at him and tell it like it is. Lucy spends so much time biting her tongue around absolutely everyone else that this reaction is both unexpected and deeply liberating, and once she’s swum around the catamaran a few times and adjusted to the water temperature, she takes a deep breath and dives down under the pontoons. Then she surfaces on the far side, reaches up, and just as Flynn senses danger and whips around, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and jerks him backward.

He’s wearing a life jacket, of course, so he doesn’t go too far under, but the expression on his face is worth every penny that she paid to the stupid app. He shakes his wet hair like a dog as he surfaces, and she has to say, he looks really good while doing it. “Excuse me,” he says, in a tone of deep umbrage. “Who told you that it was a good idea to start a marriage off by throwing your husband in the drink?”

“Maybe if I’m drowning you for the life insurance,” Lucy shoots back, before she can stop herself. She has no idea who this woman is, who has gone from being exasperated and shut off with Flynn to – well, she did in fact just throw him in the ocean, but there’s definitely something different about their dynamic now. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call it flirty, whether or not this is listed in Untourist’s terms and conditions (and as well established, Flynn did not read them anyway). “After all, I think we can say that you deserve it. Tragic boating accident?”

Too late, she wonders if this is a bad idea to joke about, since she doesn’t actually know how his wife and daughter died (she hopes it wasn’t that, anyway) but Flynn actually laughs, and it transforms his whole face. They spend a very enjoyable forty minutes swimming around, splashing each other, and hanging onto the side of the catamaran and letting their legs sway in the current. They’re close alongside each other as they do, Lucy is conscious of only being in her wet underwear (it’s not like he can see anything while she’s submerged, but still), and something passes between them as their eyes meet. His throat moves as he swallows, and after a moment too long, he looks away.

They climb back on the boat, Flynn looses the sail and steers them back toward land, and they disembark, Lucy once more watching for investigative purposes as he ties up. They dry off and she pulls on her damp clothes, as Flynn decorously turns his back and waits until she is done. Then they tramp up the bluff to the car (Lucy was thinking about retiring here, since it’s warm and sunny and beautiful and all that, but if she is elderly, all the climbing might be too much) and drive back toward the town center. The sun is getting low, her paid-for day is almost done, and despite the total disaster that was it starting out, Lucy is oddly reluctant for it to do so. As Flynn pulls up in front of the Untourist office, she says convulsively, “Maybe we should… I don’t know. I think they’re closed, anyway. You don’t have to drop me off here.”

Flynn glances at her, then considers it. He could offer to just take her back to her Airbnb (those streets really were not designed for sane drivers, and Lucy can see why tiny Smart cars are popular around here, but Flynn would absolutely not fit into one) and he still might. Then he says, “Well, technically, the day isn’t over. Do you suppose I could take you out for dinner?”

“You….” Lucy coughs. “I suppose you could.”

They find parking, and walk down into the old town, as the moon is rising over the walls, the towers are floodlit, the city gleams in the cooling dusk like its nickname, the “Pearl of the Adriatic,” and they find another cafe where the clientele is mostly local. They linger late over dinner, and Flynn says that he will in fact drive her back when they’re finally done, and as she’s about to undo her seatbelt and get out, Lucy hesitates. Then she screws up her courage, leans over, and kisses him very fast on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says. “I had – I really did have a great time.”

Flynn looks as surprised as her to hear it, but somehow and shyly gratifeid as well. A fugitive smile plays at the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender. For a moment, she thinks he might be about to kiss her back for real, but he clears his throat and holds out his hand instead. “Er,” he says. “Thank you, Dr. Preston.”

Lucy hesitates, fighting her disappointment, and shakes it back. Then she steps out of the car and unlocks the door of the apartment, as he waits to see that she gets inside without random Ragusan fiends materializing from the shrubbery. Even when she does step in, the car idles a few more moments, and she glances back, wondering – or perhaps it’s only hoping – that he’s chastising himself for letting her walk away. Then the car starts again, she can see his dark figure sitting too stiff and straight at the wheel, and she watches until the taillights vanish around a steep turn, and fade into the night.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #croatia 2k19 #extasiswings #ask

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madmandex-blog · 5 years ago

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Dexter Family Newsletter 2019

As I reflect back on our year, I can’t help but think of Charles Dickens and his classic line…..It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…...and how appropriate it might be to summarize our 2019.

It was the age of wisdom…….as in Kelsi completing her first year in grad school at Rockhurst University in Kansas City. If you didn’t know Kelsi and listened to her talk about school, you might think she is barely passing. If I had a nickel for every time Kelsi told me something like….That final exam did not go well; I did terrible….Only for me to later find out that she got something like a 107 on the test, well then I might have a lot of nickels to jingle in my pocket. Kelsi is getting all A’s as usual and well on her way to graduating in 2020 with a Masters in Speech Pathology. She is enjoying her classes and her clinical training, and has a great supervisor who is guiding her to be gainfully employed later in 2020, most likely in a school setting. Nic is also excelling at Rockhurst and working on his Doctorate in Physical Therapy. What impresses me most about Nic and Kelsi is that they indeed have wisdom in their respective areas of study. In other words, they really seem to know their shit. Meanwhile, Kaylee Jo is now in her sophomore year in high school where she obsesses about getting good grades, which she always does. Ava Jae is in 8th grade and doing well. Don’t tell anyone, but, I consider her my smartest kid.

It was the age of foolishness…….as in Mike spending countless hours managing and competing in a mere 7 fantasy football leagues, or in Mike completing his 42nd Old Chicago World Beer Tour. Along the way, I earned a leather lettermen jacket which Kelly just today told me that I looked like my Dad when wearing it. I took that as a compliment and proudly wore it about town where people looked at me in awe, as they often do, but, I digress. Mike also became a more well-rounded drinker in 2019. You see, I was lucky to get to spend a lot of time with my eldest daughter this summer who not only got me addicted to the Crime Junkies Podcast, but also too good wine. Credit is also due to the great Tackes family for showing me the redeeming virtues of drinking wine and now even whiskey. So don’t be surprised to see me knocking back a Red Cab or sipping a bourbon in a cool sophisticated fashion. If only, I had known about these things years ago…..what might have been, or perhaps not been, like 42 beer tours.

It was the epoch of belief……..in love and marriage as Kelsi became Mrs. Nic Arnone on August 10th in what turned out be an awesome ceremony and beautiful day for the two of them. When they were both working on details like what are we having for having for dessert a couple of days before the big day, I was frankly a little worried, but, as it turns out the two of them are master wedding planners. Everything was great from the venue, to the decorations, to the caterer, to the photographer, and most importantly…..to the bartender, backed by yours truly stocking the bar. Yes, we had an awesome reception and we were so blessed to have so many of you travel all the way to Kansas City to celebrate with us! In case you weren’t able to be there, rumor has it that there is video available of Mike’s fantastic wedding toast speech. Sure, there are critics like Kaylee and Ava who will say, it wasn’t all that, but, most of those at the reception gave me high fives for my performance…at least the ones who were drinking that is. Kelsi is most happy that as a Speech Therapist that I finally learned how to pronounce her new last name. For those of you who don’t know, you need to emphasize the last “e” in Arnone as it is an Italian name. After meeting Nic’s family, I finally believe he is indeed Italian, after I had long presumed he was Norwegian or Swedish given his fair skin, blue eyed, blonde hair good looks.

It was the epoch of incredulity…….and speaking of family heritage, Mike took the Ancestry DNA test in 2019. Upon arrival of the test kit, I was in great disbelief as to how hard it actually is to fill up a one ounce test tube with saliva. Trust me, it was challenging. As it turns out, I am 59% English, 33% Irish, 3% Swedish, 3% German, and 2% Norwegian, which makes me 110% Awesome, which I didn’t need a DNA test to know. So far, it is incredulous that I have not found any long lost rich relatives who want to connect with me, but, I will keep the hope. Speaking of incredulous, Ava will be in high school next year, while Kaylee will have her Driver’s License in as few as 17 more days! I for one can’t believe we all survived her driver’s training, which started in local parking lots and proceeded to hairpin turns, around tight corners, at the speed of light. Only A.J. Foyt could have pulled off some of the harrowing driving miracles that I witnessed at times this summer! But, we all survived, and with no dents in our vehicles! I joke (sort of); Kaylee is actually a very good driver and was even told that she best driver in her Driver’s Ed class. So you can feel safe when you see her drive by you in her 2007 BMW, which Drew gave to her as a Christmas present to her shrieking delight. This is now the 2nd time Drew has given a car to one of his sisters. I can only hope that he has another one to hand down to Ava in a few years. The good news for Ava is that Drew has said that his next car will be a Tesla.

Even more incredulous is that a once self-proclaimed liberal, who once carved a pumpkin in the likeness of then candidate Barack Obama is morphing into a conservative right before our very eyes. Yes, people are in a state of disbelief over these developments. While he does not yet host a show on Fox News, many have looked in disbelief at Mike as he shares his theories on the likes of capital punishment. Not to mention, the poor teachers of Dunlap who look to their email boxes in fear that they might receive another long diatribe from Mike on what is wrong with our educational system. Don’t worry, Mike still has a few liberal ideas and is still proud of President Obama. But, might we see a Trump carved pumpkin on Mike’s doorstep in 2020?

As a final point on incredulity, I bet you can’t believe how long this newsletter is as I can’t believe you are still reading it. Don’t worry, more good stuff is coming.

It was the season of light……for Nic and Kelsi who enjoyed an awesome honeymoon trip to Disney and the bright beaches of Ft. Lauderdale. Kelly and Ava also traveled to sunny Florida, with stops at Disney and the beaches of Tampa-St. Pete, while attending Ava’s Starquest World Dance Finals in Orlando. Ava and her dance teammates at MLSD continued to shine on the dance floor, while bringing home lots of trophies along the way. Ava and her DMS POMS teammates also brought home a trophy from the State Finals this year in the Jr. High Division. Ava is again on the DMS POMS team and also spending lots of time at the MLSD dance studio. We can’t wait to see her compete again in 2020, which will include her first ever solo performance. And, her latest dance project involves trying to teach her Dad how to dance in Tik Tok videos with her! These will surely go viral. Meanwhile, Ava is still Ava….always energetic, always wanting to do something, always wanting Starbucks, and always, always asking me for something or to do something. She is my constant season of light. In fact, I sometimes think of Ava as Carol Anne like from the Poltergeist movie. You see she has a life force that is hard to match and keeps me smiling, cursing, smiling, yelling smiling and speaking of yelling….. Kelly might occasionally yell at Ava (as she is this very minute!) and/or Kaylee for their continued inability and/or unwillingness to do seemingly simple things like throw a wrapper in the actual garbage can, maintain a room where you can actually see the floor, etc. Kelly is still Kelly, the straw that stirs our drink, the one who tries to keep us in check, and the one we, including our dogs can all rely on. Kelly continues to work with awesome kids, who happen to have a few special needs, at Dunlap Middle School. I likely have said this before, but, they, like us, are lucky to have her.

The season of light was also in full effect for Drew in 2019. Like most people do, he took a month vacation, this time in sunny South Africa, where he did things like go on a safari, dive into the ocean in a shark cage to see a Great White, see the great water falls of Victoria Falls, hang out in the desert of Namibia, and lounge on the beaches and climb the mountains of Cape Town. He also spent a month in Manhattan for work. Drew lives in the River North area of Chicago, where we all enjoy visiting him. Thanksgiving in Chicago was a highlight. In January, Drew has plans to visit Vietnam for a few weeks and make a stop at Boracay in the Philippines. Yes, it sucks to be Drew. He will also have extended work assignments in Boston and Washington, D.C., so stay tuned to his social media pages for amazing photographs and drone videos to document his journeys.

It was the season of darkness…….for both Mike and Kaylee, who unlike the rest of the family did not feel the sand under their toes of the warm sunshine upon their faces. The longest trip these two took in 2019 was to Rochester, Minnesota, in the midst of winter, to attend Kaylee’s Speedo Sectional Championship Meet. Despite the cold and snow, we both had fun. And in the hopes of coming out of the darkness, I admit to the world (and mostly Kelly) that I received a speeding ticket on the way home, while dodging potholes and trying to stay interested while driving the monotonous roadways of the northland. This has been a secret that only Kaylee and I have shared, with Kaylee often smiling and blurting out a whoo-whoo-police siren like sound anytime she felt it necessary to seek favor with me, while in the presence of my wife. So, Kelly, my beautiful, loving, forgiving wife, now you know and Kaylee, you have nothing to hold over my head any longer, at least for the time being.

It was the spring of hope…….for Kaylee and her commitment to the sport of swimming. She continues to love the sport, and work hard, and has renewed resolve to achieve her goals. She has a group of great friends on the team and is driven by Jersey Mike, her new coach, who yours truly worked hard to recruit to Peoria, along with the rest of it was the PAWW team. Kaylee made a tough decision to forgo her high school swim season in favor of making a greater training commitment. I was proud of her resolve in making this decision and remain proud of her in all aspects of what she does, and who she is, with the great exception of her sense of what a clean room is J.

It was the winter of despair…….as Kelly and Mike look around their house and dream of home improvements in 2020, while still wondering how we can pay for things like dance classes, swimming, and college. Kelly and Mike did close out the year by replacing our 20 year old kitchen appliances. Back to those kids who can’t seem to hit the broad side of a barn with a wrapper, let alone a waste basket, we purchased a fancy new waste can in a last ditch effort to solve the problem. The new stainless steel trash can is our new pride and joy and opens automatically at the wave of the hand. While enjoying all this new technology, our dryer just went out, so back to Sherman’s we go! Speaking of technology, Kelly and Mike finished the year with a fun night in Chicago where a true life robot delivered “forgotten toothbrushes” to our room. In addition to home improvements in the New Year, more resolutions for Mike include meditation, yoga, and drinking more wine (but only the good stuff). I think all three of these can likely be done at the same time.

Yes, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times….Like all families, we had some challenges to deal with, but those were far outweighed by many blessings. I am very lucky to have an awesome wife, four awesome kids and new son-in-law, our two awesome dogs Tahyo and Isla, along with our awesome family and friends. We have had a wonderful Christmas as a family and look forward to a great 2020! Thank you and Merry New Year to you all! May God bless you in new ways in the New Year!

P.S. – I consider this a living document in that I will likely be asked to edit for omissions, inaccuracies, offenses to my beloved family members, or over the likely fact that I wrote some of the same exact words last year.

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royalromancefanfic · 6 years ago

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Chapter 7

Harry’s POV

“Over here!” “Prince Harry!” “Prince Harry!” “I love you!!” I heard shrieks and cries in many different directions (some in English, others in unfamiliar tongues -- South Asian languages I presumed), as I made my way through the crowd that had gathered once myself, my private secretary, Edward and POs exited our car.

People had come from far and wide to see me open a new primary school at Banganga -- a village just on the outskirts of Mumbai. It was a place where red sandy dirt roads rolled on for miles and entrepreneurial women sold freshly caught fish, spices, local fruit and vegetables from baskets along the roadsides, and barefoot children played with tires, footballs, bottles and whatever else they could make a game out of. The best part of it all was how they played without a care in the world and better yet, with the biggest smiles on their faces. From my experience, the people were kind and humble. It was a place that was colourful, bold, bustling and seemed like a real community. I had tried my hardest to stop when I could to shake hands and wave at the women, men and children who’d come out in the blistering 30 degree heat. I was thankful that they’d invited me to their village and welcomed me (and unfortunately the annoying media) with open arms.

Four days into the tour, Gran and Grandpa were having a ‘rest day’ whilst I ventured out on an engagement to unveil the opening of the school. The school was run by a small local charity that aims to lift children out of poverty through education. Gran’s office were keen on me coming on as a patron, but I wanted to come out and see the charity first. Sentable, my commitments in the UK as well as my other global projects did take up most of my time. I was happy to show some support and come out to unveil the new primary school though.

Arjun Kapoor, the founder and Head of Outreach for the charity was giving us a tour of the grounds before the ribbon cutting ceremony. He introduced himself before continuing on. “Pleased to meet you royal highness,” He bowed on first sighting and reached out to greet me.

“You too,” I shook his hand. “You can just call me Harry. It’s a pleasure to be here. Thank you for inviting us down.” I took off my sunglasses and allowed them to balance on the top of my head, squinting at the sun, before introducing Arjun to Edward and the rest of the group.

Arjun introduced me to various members of staff, as we walked around the site. The school had several large classrooms (enough to house years 3, 4 and 5), a canteen, medical room and large outdoor gardens. They had planted trees in the back and had beds of soil ready for the first round of students to start planting smaller plants as part of school projects. After a quick 30-minute tour we had made it full-circle and I was ushered forward to say a few words before the ribbon cutting. Local press had surrounded us and there were a few international news wires that were hoping to get some photos. I recognised a few faces, as it always tended to be the same people covering the Royal beat. I made a quick speech and then we’d been invited by Arjun to play a round of footy with a group of kids who would start attending the school the following week.

It was meant to be 5-a-side, but due to the large amounts of people there it just became a random kick-about. And at one point I had four kids tackling me at one time. I found it amusing when someone’s five-year-old girl came onto our makeshift pitch only to just grab the ball and curl into it. She’d decided the ball was a giant lollypop and decided on licking it until some of the kids and I playfully tickled her off. We found out her name was Nisha. We played peak-a-boo until Nisha got tired and lay on the floor giggled out. The kids had absolutely made my day. I had a fantastic time and was happy that I’d made the effort to come out. By the time we’d finished and got back into the car I was covered in red dust. Although I knew I wasn’t going to become a patron, I knew I’d have a special place in my heart for the school.

We had a long ride back to our hotel, so I took it as time to tend to my phone. “Did you see that adorable little kid grab the ball?” I laughed as I sorted through some photos on my phone. Josh had taken a few snaps, as I’d asked him to. I wanted to keep some photos for my own memories.

“I did. You did very well to pry her off,” Ed laughed. “She certainly stole the show with onlookers.” Ed tilted his phone to me and showed me a video that had been uploaded onto Twitter by someone. It was already starting to go viral. “They love Nisha online.”

“Ha! Good!” I laughed and then turned back to my phone. “Those kids were precious.” I was happy that the focus was on Nisha and the rest of the children, rather than on me.

In the last two days there had been rumours about me dating a mystery woman swirling about in the tabloids. It was worrying to me how close the descriptions matched that of Leonie’s profile. Somehow they’d been told my mystery woman was tall, tanned and brown-haired. For some reason the press had wrongly picked this up as her being a tanned American brunette.

The press were now very much playing a game of ‘Guess Who’. Trying to pair me with any brunette I’d ever spoken to in my life. It was almost like whoever talked to the press knew Leonie and I or had seen us together. My POs Josh and Scott were the only ones that had seen Leonie and I together, but they knew better than to go to the press. I’d also made them swear to not tell anyone, not even Ed. I hadn’t told anyone that we’d been dating and even denied the rumours when asked outright by those close to me. “Anymore rumours going round?” I asked Ed as I tried to play casual.

“No real updates,” He looked up from his phone then across at me. “I mean they’re just rumours after all right?” I could see him watching me from the corner of my eye. I continued looking down at my phone scrolling through photos -- avoiding his gaze. “It doesn’t matter unless you actually are seeing someone... because then those rumours may actually affect them.”

Scott coughed, making me draw my eyes up to him in the front seat. It was his way of trying to get me to be honest with Ed. “Might want to get something for that nasty cough, Scott.” I said as I looked at him wide-eyed.

“Sorry, Harry. Just had something in my throat.” His eyes fell and he went back to looking straight ahead. “Apologies.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to Harry.” Ed started sternly. “But I have a feeling you are seeing someone.” He began pointing his phone at me.

“What? Women’s intuition?” I scoffed teasing him. “You sound like a scorned lover. I’m not seeing anyone Ed.” I wanted to protect the beginnings of what I had with Leonie and I felt like I had to keep people out of it if there was ever any chance of it lasting. In the past I’d been so naive and complacent when dating. Chelsy was splashed all over the papers within a week of knowing her and Cressida was the same too -- only because I tried to use her to make Chelsy jealous. I was hoping to keep Leonie to myself for a while. I had to deny everything to Ed.

“Okay. Then maybe you’re messing around with someone on a frequent basis.” He tried to rephrase himself. “Chilling? Is that what you young people call it nowadays?” He rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is, if there is someone... you have to let me know. Not only does she affect your reputation, but you affect hers too.”

I thought about that for a while and agreed with Ed. But I still wasn’t ready. “What time’s dinner?” I quickly changed the subject.

Ed just shook his head, before reeling off our plans for the rest of the day. Deep down he knew I was dating someone, but he couldn’t quite prove it. Yet.

Leonie’s POV

“Ooo I’ve got a good one,” Jessica (our Fashion Editor’s EA) started, as she cupped her mug of tea. She frequently came over for a natter with my EA Aster. “Who’d you rather? Tom Hardy or David Beckham?”

Aster was so into their conversation that she hadn’t noticed me walking towards my office. Her desk was stationed just outside of my office. “Easy. Tom Hardy any day.” She inhaled drawing in air. “That guy is so beautifully rough and ragged.” She fanned herself. “His wife is one lucky woman.”

I cleared my throat slightly to draw their attention. Aster jumped up and Jessica stood wide-eyed. She jumped away from Aster’s laptop screen and stood up straight, as she smoothed down her black dress. “Oh I’m so sorry, Leonie. Jess and I were just yammering on about our celeb crushes. Did you need something? Anything I can help with?”

Aster had on the cutest houndstooth skirt and white shirt on today. She’d left her medium length auburn hair to sit perfectly just above her shoulders. Not only was she sharp with her fashion game, but also she happened to be the loveliest, most organised EA. She made sure my diary was never too packed and also had worked at British Vogue as soon as she’d left school, so could tell me all the ins and outs of the business. She was my Executive Assistant and also when it came to work -- my secret weapon.

“That’s fine,” I chuckled lightly at her. “Just wanted to check to see if my meeting with Verity is in her office? I know we had to rearrange a couple of times.”

Aster quickly minimised the gossip website on her screen that Jessica and her were drooling over and clicked onto my calendar. She gave it a moment and then nodded. “Yes,” She smiled at me. “It’s in her office in 13 minutes exactly.” She pointed to a small box on her desk. “Also, that box came for you. It was delivered by a courier to the post room.”

“Hmm...” I hadn’t ordered anything and I wasn’t expect anything either.

“Want me to put it in ‘the pile’?” Aster asked. Everyone at British Vogue had a pile of random things that were sent to them. Our legal team had a never-ending, difficult job of trying to figure out if most of the gifts breached our anti-bribery rule.

“Nah, I’ll take it.” It had been scanned by security in the post room, so it couldn’t have been anything too crazy. “Thank you.” I went back into my office, but kept the door open. I normally kept the door open, unless I was having a private conversation/on a private call.

I continued to hear Jessica and Aster chatting about the latest news on gossip sites.

I opened the gift box slowly and inside was a white card and what looked to be luxury Indian sweets. The card read: Wish you were here

I smiled at the thought of how he was still thinking of me. I managed to catch the news that morning, which showed footage of the Queen, Duke of Edinburgh and Harry at a Hindu temple.

“Corrrr look at Prince Harry in that tight shirt. Someone’s been working out.” Jessica said. My ears immediately picked up when I heard his name and my eyes darted over to her and Aster. They were still on a tabloid website. I quickly tossed the note back in the box and closed it.

“What’s he in India now?” Aster then proceeded to read the headline of the article about him out loud. Aster smiled. “Now he’s a good one. Who’d you rather? Prince Harry or Prince William?”

“Harry... definitely Harry,” Jessica said dreamily. “He’s the hottest royal and still has his hair. Plus I tend to fancy a bit of a bad boy.”

“Is he still with Chelsy or is it Cressida?” Aster asked. “Ooo they were spotted at that party weren’t they? But then there’s these new rumours about a brunette!” She went on excitedly. One thing Aster did love was a gossip. I listened more intently.

“Ohhh yeah,” Jessica nodded.

“Means I might have a chance.” Aster flipped her naturally red hair. “Soon he’ll be coming home to us redheads.”

“I heard he’s really dating someone new. They’re not just rumours.” Jessica started off loud and then settled into a lower range. It was almost like she had just remembered she was at work. I leaned forward in my seat and then stopped myself and decided to use my laptop as my prop. I clicked on random things aimlessly as I listened in. “My best friend’s cousin, Katya, is dating of those van Straubenzee brothers. She’s said Cressida is real old news. No one in their group likes her, only Princess Eugenie.”

Aster gasped. “Hmmm she seems the type no one would like.”

Jessica continued. “Chelsy is the only one Harry actually really loved, but she’s sleeping with some tennis instructor. And Harry’s apparently dating someone knew. She’s foreign... American or something. Real tall, tanned and brunette.”

Jessica and Aster were so into their conversation. The aristo’ circle in London was so small and well connected that there was no wonder Jessica’s contact knew Van/Charlie. I just hoped the news about Harry dating someone would stop spreading. The press had picked up on it in the last few days. Their profile/description was wrong, but it wasn’t too far from me. Unknowingly of my background, I could have been classed as ‘tanned’ and my hair was dark brown (although I was not a brunette) and I was seemingly ‘foreign’ (although not an American). The thought of the media finding out who I was made me nervous. I stopped listening in on Jessica and Aster.

I picked up my phone and casually went through my Instagram feed to distract myself. I began scrolling and ‘liked’ most photos. I then saw Jas had posted. She was in New York for a few days, before she had to fly to Toronto. I commented on the picture ‘Miss you lady!’. I continued scrolling and saw Papa’s Instagram feed. I tried to get him off Instagram a while ago, but for some reason the French Embassy thought it was great that he had a ‘human face’ with a personal account. There was a photo of Pa and Prince Charles mid-conversation sharing a glass of whisky in my parents front room. Their front room!

My heart dropped.

What. The. F*ck. What the actual f*ck?!

I glanced at the photo again to see if there was a caption. There was no caption, but everyone knew it was Prince Charles in the photo. It was freaking Prince Charles!

“Leonie --” Aster’s voice snapped me out of my haze. “You’re going to be late.”

“Sorry,” I looked up at her annoyed at having been interrupted.

“Your meeting with Verity.” She reminded me.

I snapped out of it instantly. “Yes, Verity,” I quickly got up from my seat. I grabbed my notepad and pen from my desk. “Thanks, Aster.” I then made my way to the meeting.

What Pa was doing having Prince Charles at the house. I did not know. But I had to find out what was going on and why they’d become friends all of a sudden. Did he know something I hadn’t? Did Harry let him know we were dating? Did Harry know they were having regular rendezvous?

#chapter 7 #chapter seven #fanfic #fanfiction #prince harry #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry ff #prince harry fanfic #royal fandom

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the-real-viva-la-snowbaz · 7 years ago

Text

He Loves You, Mr. Pitch

A/N: Snowbaz proposal textfic! This is my first new posted thing in a while--hope you enjoy. :) Italics is Baz, normal text is Penelope.

December 1st, 2019 - 2:15 pm

help

what now?

I’m going to propose to Simon

What do i do

2:17 pm

PENNY I NEED ADVICE

Well I’m sorry you’re a failure at all things romantic, Basil.

But I will help your sorry ass this time, I guess.

Well thanks Bunce.

Oh, no need.

So what ideas have you got?

Well…

Look. I’m not even sure if he’ll say yes.

What are you talking about. Of course he’ll say yes.

(Actually, I didn’t tell you this, but he’s proposing to YOU on the 24th. So if you want to beat him to it, I suggest you get to work.)

O.o

O.m.g.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

December 5th - 6:05pm

Did you get the links I emailed you?

Yeah. Cute. :3

I know! :D

So. Any you like?

Not particularly.

:P Picky much?

Ha. ha.

It’s just.. I want to do something original and special, and very US. You know? I get it :)

But it did give me a few good ideas.

How does a sleighride proposal sound?

Cheesy.

*sigh* you’re probably right.

Plus, Simon’s terrified of horses.

True again

See? You need me.

No i don’t.

Shhhh

Whatever, Bunce. He’s my boyfriend. I knew all that already.

Well he’s MY best friend, and you apparently need me to remind you of the little details.

Sure.

Blah, blah, concessions. ;)

Shut up

Won’t.

Shall.

Shan’t.

BUNCE. Back to the topic, PLEASE.

Fiiiine.

Why don’t you two do something reminiscent of the night you got together?

You mean with fire and angst and a tear-stained kiss? I don’t think so.

I don’t like to remind him of… well, when he had magick.

You’re right. :/

Not that either, then.

Mhm.

I want to propose on Christmas Eve, actually. But if he’s going to…

You could coordinate it. ;)

How?

Oh.

Before he starts bridging into the proposal, you’ve got to take charge and beat him to it.

Right. That’ll be hard…

You’re better at words than Simon-- more domineering a conversationalist. Really, Baz, it’ll be easier than you think.

Oh, an important detail: do you have a ring?

...uh

I’m still deciding.

Well decide soon.

Do you need advice on that, too? xD

No, Bunce. I can make a jewelry selection without YOU.

:P Alright, Pitch. Your loss.

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

December 7th - 8:42 pm

Hey! :) How’s planning?

Ugh.

Ugh?

I’m exhausted, Bunce. Men’s football is no joke.

Aw. Sorry.

It’s not your fault. I’ll live.

I bought the ring this afternoon.

Really? What does it look like? Is it a diamond ring?

Ew, no. That’d look gaudy.

It’s solid gold. Engraved.

O_O Merlin.

I’m not even going to ASK how much that cost.

Then don’t ;)

ROFL, Basilton.

What does it say?

“I choose you”.

Awwwwwwwwwwwww

Glad you approve.

It’s adorable.

Mine matches.

Good. :)

So now you’ve got to ask him.

...yes.

That’s the problem.

Take him on an evening date. Go to the cinema. Ice skate. Eat gingerbread cookies.

...I just might. :)

I want it to be perfect, though. I want to do exactly the right thing, and say everything I should.

It’s not going to happen.

But :/

No buts.

It’s not the proposal that matters. Even if you pulled out a ring on a casual lunch date, he’d say yes.

You think so?

He loves you, Mr. Pitch. No question.

Don’t stress, ok?

Alright.

I should sleep.

Goodnight. :)

Ttyl

December 15th, 2019 - 1:06 am

BUNCE

BUNCE ARE YOU AWAKE???

I am now.

What do u want?

I got a brilliant idea!

At one am? :/

Yeah. Sorry.

What’s your brilliant idea?

I could take him out for that Christmas date you suggested, and we can sit under one of the huge Christmas trees in the city.

Then I’d give him a present. He’ll open it, and it’ll be a scone (from Watford--the kind that he likes), with a ribbon and ring tied around it.

...you know, that’s kinda cute.

Should I do it?

Go for it.

Just let me sleep

Oh yeah. Sorry.

Night bunce.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

December 20th, 2019 - 4:32 pm

Hey, Bunce.

I’m kind of having a freak-out here.

What’s wrong?? O.o

I’m not sure if I can do this.

The proposal?

Baaaaz

Of course you can. You got this. :)

What if he says no.

He won’t. Trust me.

Prove it.

Well, you KNOW how much he loves you. He’s been daydreaming about weddings a lot lately. Talking about how he wants to settle down.

With who, though?

With YOU, genius. Sheesh.

He actually called off his own proposal plan, though

Why?

Because he’s scared YOU’LL say no.

You’re joking.

I’m not.

Why would he be afraid of that?

Because he LOVES you, and a cool rejection would kill him.

How many times must I clarify this for your benefit?

Eternally, Bunce. It’s almost too much for me to believe.

That he loves you?

...yes.

Well… keep trying to believe it. Ok? :)

Fine.

PROPOSE, Baz. Tell him exactly what he means to you. Slide the ring on his finger. Do it.

:) I fucking will.

Good luck.

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

December 25th, 2019 - 12:30am

BAZ !!!

ARE YOU THERE????

WHAT HAPPENED???????

:) I’m here. Just got back to Fiona’s flat.

Simon texted me some garbled screaming, then dropped off. I want details!!!

TELL ME!!!

Ok, ok. Crowley.

So.

I took Simon to his favorite coffeeshop in the Downtown. We got hot chocolates. Then we went to an outdoor ice rink. Snow nearly broke his neck more than once. Then he tried holding onto me, and he didn’t trip as much. It was lovely. And awkward. Just like him.

Finally we made it to the big tree just down the road, in a small park. There were lots of couples and groups scattered about.

I gave him the box, and he ripped it open eagerly. He saw the scone first, I think, because he got that funny gleam in his eyes that ALWAYS has something to do with food. Then his whole expression changed. He froze. I think he saw the ring.

“Don’t talk,” I said, when he started to open his mouth. I took his hand and tried to begin my scripted speech. (I wrote one, you know.) But all of a sudden, I couldn’t recall it.

“Snow…” I said. “Simon. I love you. You matter more to me than anyone or anything in this world.” “When you first told me you wanted to be with me, you informed me that you were a terrible boyfriend. Now… I want to ask if you’ll do me the honor of becoming my terrible husband…”

*wild applause* :) :) :) :)

Omg Baz

Delivered with signature flair.

Not really. I was crying. :P

Aw xD what’d he say??

You know how he is with words.

He didn’t say anything.

He just kissed me. :)

BLEEEEEH

Pda…

Aleister Crowley, Bunce. Give us a break.

Never. :)

So. You are now texting Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch III… Simon Snow’s fiance. xD

Congrats!!! I’m so happy for you guys.

When’s the wedding?

We haven’t actually discussed it yet

But i was thinking sometime in the summer.

*nods* lovely

Bristol beach, maybe?

Perhaps.

Do you want to be in the ceremony?

Sure!! :D

I can’t wait.

I won’t say I told you so… ;)

You just did, Bunce.

Oh well. Hehe.

Where is your lucky groom-to-be anyway?

He said he was going to run up and down the Big Ben a bit before he headed back. xD what a moron.

…. Really?

He was kidding!

...I think.

I don’t think so.

You mean he’s not back yet?

No.

….

...you go pick him up, Bunce.

BAZ. Your turn.

Why me??

You’re his fiance.

You’re his flatmate.

You know? Let’s BOTH go find him.

Last one to the tower is a stinking merwolf.

You’re on.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

#carry on #the fic tag #Corin writes a thing #snowbaz #proposal #texting #fanfiction #rainbow rowell #bazelope friendship

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harryjamesheadcanons · 7 years ago

Text

Quick introduction to my favorite, ridiculous, super #extra OC, Aaron Finch-Dursley.

Aaron Finch is the Muggle older brother of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

The brothers were really close as kids, though Aaron is two years older. Their parents divorced when the boys were six and four, and their mother was remarried by the next year. Their stepdad Alan Fletchley is a better dad than their own, so much so that he offers his last name to both boys to make it official. Justin, remembering less of their biological dad, adds it to his name. Aaron chooses not to, but still loves him as much as he loves their mom.

Had Aaron attended Hogwarts, he would have been Sorted Hufflepuff before the hat even settled on his head. He’s kind, patient, and fair enough to rival Helga herself.

It takes hard work and patience for Justin to be able to explain everything he experiences at Hogwarts and in the Wizarding World, but he is true, loyal, and unafraid of the toil of writing out long, detailed letters. It’s harder than one might think to contextualize everything about Hogwarts, to convey the scale of the moving staircases, the history and mentality of the House Elves, Dumbledore’s omniscience, the Transfiguration coursework. Understanding it all is hard sometimes even for Justin, who lives it every day, but all the same, it just doesn’t seem fair to keep Aaron out. The only time Aaron ever sees Hogwarts is during Justin’s second year, when the family is allowed to visit him in the hospital wing after he’d been Petrified.

That’s when he suddenly gets it - understands why Justin loves this world so much, and is able to get a clearer picture in his head of what the life of a wizard is even like.

He has a pretty normal Muggle upbringing, though admittedly he does spend it at Eton. He has a close-knit group of friends that he grows up with, and gets on with nearly everyone around him. He never focuses too much on the coursework, it seems secondary anyway. He befriends the friendless, protects the helpless, and somehow seems to remain on good terms with everyone.

When he comes out as gay when he’s sixteen, not one person is surprised, but everyone is as accepting as he could have asked them to be. He takes to dating wizarding boys off from Hogwarts for the summers. Eaton is such a dreadfully small dating pool.

When Justin comes back from his sixth year at Hogwarts, saying that he won’t be able to return the next year because of highly anti-muggleborn sentiments, Aaron is secretly - shamefully - a little bit relieved. It’s gotten more and more dangerous each year, and if the newspaper is to be believed, the ensuing year in full out war would be even worse.

When a letter from a Muggleborn friend of Justin’s warns that members of Dumbledore’s Army are going to be hunted down more viciously than other Muggleborns, Justin decides to move to America rather than go into hiding. He has some friends help him put wards over their family home to keep their parents safe.

Since he’s taking a gap year anyway, Aaron tags along. They get a flat in Boston with a couple of roommates - a set of American twins, one witch and one Muggle - and learn the Muggle and Wizarding area surrounding.

Aaron enrolls in some classes, and does some volunteer work to figure out what he wants to do with the the rest of his life - and ends up settling on an education major. He’s always liked school and thinks sixth form might be ideal to teach - he’ll be able to do some good with kids that age, he decides.

He decides to take his actual credits when they get home. Justin seems to think that the tension is going to break any week now, and he can give his all in the final battle and then return back to normal life and Hogwarts like he never left it.

Eventually, he gets a letter from the Muggleborn kid he was Petrified with - Colin - saying that it’s going to happen in a matter of days. They return home, and Justin goes to fight. Aaron and his mother stay the entire night in the Three Broomsticks, under the care of Madame Rosmerta, with some other Muggles whose loved ones are in danger. It’s the worst night of either of their lives.

But then the war is over, and Justin returns to Hogwarts - to the anxiety of the whole family. Aaron enrolls in university to work towards his teaching degree. Life settles back into what it used to be, even though he still feels stuck in an odd position on the fringes of wizarding society.

One day, during a summer that feels particularly fortuitous with its Muggle and Muggleborn-friendly legislature and new Ministry programs, Justin drags Aaron to a shop in Diagon Alley.

Aaron is a little overwhelmed by all the overt wizardingness of it all. He feels a little like he’s missing pieces he should know in order to exist comfortably in this spaces. “God,” he says to Justin, after nearly knocking over a display. “They shouldn’t let Muggles in here.”

A low slow voice from behind him says, “You wanna say that again?”

He turns. The guy is cute, smiling a little, and wearing a smock that matches the logo on the outside of the store.

Aaron backpedals frantically. “No no no, I mean - I’m not, I was being - I’m a Muggle.”

The guy grins. “Yeah, I know. Me too. I heard you ask how many Knuts to a pound.”

“And I suppose you know? Justin is bloody useless and couldn’t tell me.”

“God, no. I wish we were using pounds. I promise I know less than your boyfriend does,” the guy says, a question in his voice.

“My brother, actually,” Aaron corrects with a smile.

“I’m, uh, Dudley.”

“Aaron.”

They learn each other slowly. Dudley is hesitant to show the parts of himself he’d been hiding since the beginning of the war, hesitant to open up about his past, hesitant to let himself be loved. Aaron, though, is patient. And loyal, when he learns the truth.

They adapt to the two worlds together, living mostly Muggle, although Aaron does help Dudley reconnect with Harry after a few years. It’s rocky, but the fact that Ginny and Aaron become fast friends - and both really want their respective partners to have peace - really helps.

Aaron finishes his degree, and lands a teaching position in a suburb of London. He enjoys his job teaching history and government, and tries to teach his students to view the world with fairness and patience.

Dudley gets a data entry job at a firm partnered with Grunnings.

They rent a little house together, with a garden for Dudley and a huge kitchen for Aaron. Justin, still healing and helping his friends heal, is in and out of their guest room for a number of years, still trying to get back on his wizarding feet and figure out where he fits in the new order of things. When he finally gets a job and his own appartment, Dudley helps Aaron throw a housewarming party for him and some old school friends.

Aaron does most of the household chores, and most of the cooking - some of Dudley’s leftover spoiled child habits spill over into his adult life, after all - but he’s okay with it. It makes him feel in control of his life, quiet and safe and secure.

They have their issues, of course: Dudley has food issues that never quite dissipate, and lots of leftover guilt from his childhood. He has some sort of crisis about every other week about whether he deserves this or that good thing. His testy relationship with his parents and his cousins cause unnecessary tension in their lives. Aaron has unrealistic expectations - he thinks life is beautiful and is very comfortable with his place in it, and gets a little uncomfortable when that belief is shaken. He takes on the problems of his friends and family, too, and doesn’t notice the amount of stress he puts on himself that way until it culminates in him blowing up. They work through these things, though, and they’re happy.

Dudley proposes on the spot one night in their living when Aaron mentions wanting kids during a football match commercial. He hadn’t had a ring or a plan, but it worked out fine. Aaron said yes, and within a year, they were married in a little civil partnership ceremony in the Fletchley’s back garden. Petunia Dursley cried through the whole thing, Vernon Dursley harrumphed uncomfortably at their kiss, but Harry (and his friend Hermione, since Ginny was on off flying for her team) wished them well. As a joke, Aaron throws a bouquet off one of the tables. Justin’s friend Hannah catches it, and her date’s face turns crimson, making Aaron smile proudly.

Their surrogate, Jessica, is a dream, and Aaron’s life changes forever the first time he holds little Myna Jean Dursley in his arms. He cannot imagine, in that moment, ever doing anything besides that, besides holding his daughter and watching her breathe. The feeling isn’t any less strong a year and a half later when he holds Rhea for the first time, although he’s wiser now, and knows the road he has ahead of him.

Fatherhood suits him quite nicely, him and Dudley both, and their little family is just about as happy as can be.

There more to him, of course, and I’m probably going to start mentioning him on this blog fairly regularly, but I’ll link back to this post so people don’t think they’ve forgotten about a canon character, haha. If you’re wondering about a visual, Ross Marquand is a great face-cast.

#harry potter headcanons #harry potter oc #justin finch fletchley #dudley dursley #aaron finch-dursley oc #keep an eye out for more of him #sibling tag

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chrissyglikesbooks · 6 years ago

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88 Crazy Things You Probably Didn't Know About Australia

1. Australia is as wide as the distance between London to Moscow.

2. The biggest property in Australia is bigger than Belgium.

3. More than 85% of Australians live within 50km of the coast.

4. In 1880, Melbourne was the richest city in the world.

5. Gina Rinehart, Australia's richest woman, earns $1 million every half hour, or $598 every second.

6. In 1892, a group of 200 Australians unhappy with the government tried to start an offshoot colony in Paraguay to be called 'New Australia'.

7. The first photos from the 1969 moon landing were beamed to the rest of the world from Honeysuckle Tracking Station, near Canberra.

8. Australia was the second country in the world to allow women to vote (New Zealand was first).

9. Each week, 70 tourists overstay their visas.

10. In 1856, stonemasons took action to ensure a standard of 8-hour working days, which then became recognised worldwide.

11. Former Prime Minister Bob Hawke set a world record for sculling 2.5 pints of beer in 11 seconds. Hawke later suggested that this was the reason for his great political success.

12. The world's oldest fossil, which is about 3.4 billion years old, was found in Australia.

13. Australia is very sparsely populated: The UK has 248.25 persons per square kilometre, while Australia has only 2.66 persons per square kilometre.

14. Australia's first police force was made up of the most well-behaved convicts.

15. Australia has the highest electricity prices in the world.

16. There were over one million feral camels in outback Australia, until the government launched the $19m Feral Camel Management Program, which aims to keep the pest problem under control.

17. Saudi Arabia imports camels from Australia (mostly for meat production).

18. Qantas once powered an interstate flight with cooking oil.

19. Per capita, Australians spend more money on gambling than any other nation.

20. In 1832, 300 female convicts mooned the governor of Tasmania. It was said that in a "rare moment of collusion with the Convict women, the ladies in the Governor's party could not control their laughter."

21. Australia is home to the longest fence in the world. It is 5,614 km long, and was originally built to keep dingoes away from fertile land.

22. Australia was one of the founding members of the United Nations.

23. Melbourne is considered the sporting capital of the world, as it has more top level sport available for its citizens than anywhere else.

24. Before the arrival of humans, Australia was home to mega fauna: three metre tall kangaroos, seven metre long goannas, horse-sized ducks, and a marsupial lion the size of a leopard.

25. Kangaroos and emus cannot walk backward, one of the reasons that they're on the Australian coat of arms.

26. Speaking of, Australia is one of the only countries where we eat the animals on our coat of arms.

27. If you visited one new beach in Australia every day, it would take over 27 years to see them all.

28. Melbourne has the world's largest Greek population outside of Athens.

29. The Great Barrier Reef is the planet's largest living structure.

30. And it has it's own postbox!

31. The male platypus has strong enough venom to kill a small dog.

32. And when the platypus was first sent to England, it was believed the Australians had played a joke by sewing the bill of a duck onto a rat.

33. Before 1902, it was illegal to swim at the beach during the day.

34. A retired cavalry officer, Francis De Groot stole the show when the Sydney Harbour Bridge officially opened. Just as the Premier was about to cut the ribbon, De Groot charged forward on his horse and cut it himself, with his sword. The ribbon had to be retied, and De Groot was carted off to a mental hospital. He was later charged for the cost of one ribbon.

35. Australia has 3.3x more sheep than people.

36. Prime Minister Harold Holt went for a swim at Cheviot Beach, and was never seen again.

37. Australia's national anthem was 'God Save The King/Queen' until 1984.

38. Wombat poop is cube shaped! This helps it mark its territory.

39. European settlers in Australia drank more alcohol per capita than any other society in history.

40. The Australian Alps receive more snowfall than Switzerland.

41. A kangaroo is only one centimetre long when it is born.

42. Sir John Robertson, a five-time premier of NSW in the 1800s, began every morning with half a pint of rum. He said: "None of the men who in this country have left footprints behind them have been cold water men."

43. The Box jellyfish has killed more people in Australia than stonefish, sharks and crocodiles combined.

44. Tasmania has the cleanest air in the world.

45. The average Aussie drinks 96 litres of beer per year.

46. 63% of Australians are overweight.

47. Australia is ranked second on the Human Development Index (based on life expectancy, income and education).

48. In 2005, security guards at Canberra's Parliament House were banned from calling people 'mate'. It lasted one day.

49. In Australia, it is illegal to walk on the right-hand side of a footpath.

50. Australia is the only continent in the world without an active volcano.

51. Aussie Rules footy was originally designed to help cricketers to keep fit in the off-season.

52. The name 'Kylie' came from an Aboriginal hunting stick, similar to the boomerang.

53. 91% of the country is covered by native vegetation.

54. The largest-ever victory in an international football match was when Australia beat American Samoa 31-0 in 2001.

55. There are 60 designated wine regions in Australia.

56. Melbourne has been ranked the world's most liveable city for the past three years.

57. If all the sails of the Opera House roof were combined, they would create a perfect sphere. The architect was inspired while eating an orange.

58. Australia is home to 20% of the world's poker machines.

59. Half of these are found in New South Wales.

60. Moomba, Australia's largest free festival, held in Melbourne, means 'up your bum' in many Aboriginal languages.

61. No native Australian animals have hooves.

62. The performance by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra at the 2000 Olympics opening ceremony was actually a prerecording- of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.

63. The wine cask (goon sack) is an Australian invention

64. So is the selfie.

65. Durack, Australia's biggest electorate, is larger in size than Mongolia.

66. The world's first compulsory seat belt law was put into place in Victoria in 1970.

67. Each year, Brisbane hosts the world championships of cockroach racing.

68. In 1932, the Australian military waged war on the emu population of Western Australia. Embarrassingly, they lost.

69. Canberra was created in 1908 as a compromise when Sydney and Melbourne both wanted to be the capital city.

70. A gay bar in Melbourne won the right to ban women from the premises, because they made the men uncomfortable.

71. In 1992, an Australian gambling syndicate bought almost all the number combinations in a Virginia lottery, and won. They turned a $5m purchase into a $27m win.

72. Eucalyptus oil is highly flammable, meaning gum trees may explode if ignited, or in bushfires.

73. In 1975, Australia had a government shutdown, which ended with the Queen firing everyone and the government starting again.

74. A bearded Australian was removed from a darts match in the UK, after the audience started chanting 'Jesus!' at him, distracting the players.

75. There have been instances of wallabies getting high after breaking into opium crops, then running around and making what look like crop circles.

76. An Australian man once tried to sell New Zealand on eBay.

77. In 1940, two aircraft collided in midair, in NSW. Instead of crashing, the two planes became stuck together and made a safe landing.

78. The male lyrebird, which is native to Australia, can mimic the calls of over 20 other birds. If that's not impressive enough, he can also perfectly imitate the sound of a camera, chainsaw and car alarm.

79. Some shopping centres and restaurants play classical music in their car park to deter teenagers from loitering at night.

80. Despite sharing the same verbal language, Australian, British and American sign language are all completely different languages.

81. In 1979, debris from NASA's space station 'Skylab' crashed in Esperance, WA. The town then fined NASA $400 for littering.

82. There have been no deaths in Australia from a spider bite since 1979.

83. There currently a chlamydia outbreak among koala species, which has led to a 15% drop in koala populations.

84. In NSW, there is a coal fire beneath the ground which has been burning for 5,500 years.

85. An Australian election TV debate was rescheduled so it didn't conflict with the finale of reality cooking show Masterchef.

86. Chinese explorers travelled to Australia long before Europeans arrived. As early as the 1400s, sailors and fisherman came to Australia for sea-cucumbers and to trade with Indigenous peoples.

87. The first European to visit Australia was Dutch explorer Willem Janszoon, in 1606. More Dutch explorers visited the country over the next hundred years, plotting maps and naming it 'New Holland'.

88. Captain James Cook first landed on Australia's east coast in 1770. In 1788, the British returned with eleven ships to establish a penal colony. Within days of The First Fleet's arrival and the raising of the British flag, two French ships arrived, just too late to claim Australia for France.

#No littering!#even if you’re NASA #littering is bad!#yes these are all true #yes all our politicians prior to to 2000s were known for drinking #yes some of these I- an Australian- didn’t know #yes this country is batshit crazy sometimes #No I don’t know why melbourne is the most liveable city when I still can’t get a job #not fandom #Australia #we also invented wifi by accident #thank you CSIRO for your contibution to our internet addicions #tip: the number 1 way to break up a bar fight between Australians is to yell #Aussie Aussie Aussie #and they will imediately stop what they’re doing and yell #Oi Oi Oi!#actual facts #post stolen from facebook

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agirlinhell · 6 years ago

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Send 💭 for five or more headcanons between our muses. | ALWAYS ACCEPTING!

I. They kiss long and hard before they separate, knowing that it could be the last time they could see each other. They could die at any moment in time, so they love each other as if it’s their last day in this world together.

II. Louis knows all the places where she’s ticklish, and having a significant difference in height certainly helps his advantage. He often sneaks up behind her and tickles her sensitive sides and the poor boy almost got punched on accident several times.

III. Every date they ever have post-The Final Season, Clementine always makes sure to make herself look pretty - even though in Louis’ eyes she would always be beautiful. She applies lipstick, nailpolish, perfume and a flower in her hair, things she’s collected from the endless rooms with art supplies and the greenhouse. On many dates, Louis teaches her how to play the piano, and he’s really gentle with her. In truth, Clementine doesn’t truly care what they do on a date - as long as they’re together and they’re having a good time, she’s as happy as can be.

IV. Clementine learns flower language from books from the Victorian era and often gives him messages via flowers with their own respective meanings. Louis finds this very heartwarming and tries to keep the flowers alive for as long as he can.

V. Their next round of batting practice ended up Clementine swiping a walker’s head clean off with a ruthless swing of Chairles. Louis was gaping the entire time afterward.

VI. After the events of The Final Season, Clementine becomes a pagan witch and a beginner in witchcraft, and as a result, she begins performing love and happiness spells in the hopes that they get to live a long and happy life together. So far, it’s been working quite well.

VII. Louis proposes to Clementine on her nineteenth birthday and they wed shortly afterward on Halloween. In a world as cruel and chaotic as this one, they’d have to make their memories last. Their wedding wasn’t anything too extravagant, but at the time, Louis had made secret arrangements with a company from The Commonwealth to give them the things required for the ceremony.

VIII. Late at night, when neither of them can’t sleep, they talk about things that have hurt them in the past, things that confuse them, their deepest fears amongst many other deep topics while they’re vulnerable with each other. Afterward, they watch the stars together and return to the school by sunrise. Louis first kissed her underneath the stars.

IX. In concern for AJ’s mental health, they often check up on him and make sure that he’s doing alright especially after the events of The Final Season. They truly do always try to be there for him in any way they can.

X. In the winter that followed The Final Season, Clementine made a fur cloak for him made of the pelts of bears, wolves and seals so that he could wear it over his own jacket. Louis has been grateful to her ever since as he’s never been the greatest fan of winter. On bright days, they often made snowmen together and slid down snowy hills before engaging in snowball fights and eventually settling down with some hot chocolate. Clem often steals his jacket as it’s really warm and it smells like him, but she always makes sure to bring it back to him.

XI. Clementine comforted Louis when he was paying respects to Marlon’s grave. The poor boy began crying in the middle of saying his goodbyes and even though he’d tried to hide his tears from her, she held him closely and comforted him throughout the whole thing.

XII. Louis comforts Clementine whenever she has nightmares. After he soothes her, he plays with her hair and coaxes her to sleep, which makes her fall for him so much harder.

XIII. They have a daughter together named Aaliyah; Clementine gives birth to her at age twenty-one. She truly is the light of their lives and she’s growing fast and strong with each passing day.

XIV. Louis and Clementine once performed in a Les Miserables play for the school as Marius and Cosette respectively and they absolutely killed the A Heart Full Of Love scene. The crowd stood and gave a round of applause because of just how breathtaking it was.

XV. Before they began dating, Louis made sure to call Clementine at exactly 12AM to wish her a happy birthday without fail every single year. He literally records himself singing the Happy Birthday song while playing his Super Fun Times Friends Song while he’s at it. It makes Clementine blush and think of how much of a cutie and a dork Louis really is.

XVI. Louis was infatuated and mesmerized with the new girl in town who’d just arrived at the school from another state. Marlon still remembers the day Louis first saw Clementine, when she was walking past them with a group of giggling girls she’d befriended - Violet, Minerva, Sophie, Ruby and Brody. Marlon, Mitch, Louis and the rest of the group on the football team had been in an avid conversation on who was going to win the next match when they noted Louis staring at the new girl. Marlon kept waving his hand in front of him and calling “Earth to Louis!” and then Mitch teased him with, “He’s hooked, boys.” They first met in a theatre class and he serenaded her with the classic “Oh My Darling Clementine” just as in canon, and she giggled at him, thinking he was such a sweetheart. Unfortunately for poor Louis, he finds out that he wasn’t her only admirer, much to his dismay. Several of the boys - and even some of the girls - in their class took quite a liking to Clementine not only for her appearance but her kind heart and free-willed spirit.

XVII. When Louis finds out that Clementine’s been “dating” James in the middle of the first year, the poor boy was sulking in misery for about a week or two. This changes when Violet tells him that James is actually gay and had a boyfriend in Charlie and that Clementine being his girlfriend was only an act to appease his strict, traditional relatives. Louis was over the moon at hearing the revelation but unfortunately there were still quite a few individuals who sought her affections.

XVIII. When Clementine first meets Louis’ parents, she has never before seen his house (more like a mansion) and is absolutely astonished and blown away by the sheer size of it. She takes pictures of it and posts it on Instagram and sends it to her friends in private messaging while driving with a bunch of “WTF” gifs and emojis. She meets Louis at his doorstep before she’s intercepted by his personal guards and Louis politely shoos them away. Clem had no idea that he was this rich even though they’d been dating for half a year at the time. At the same time, it makes her appreciate and love him all the more as he never boasts about his wealth and kept himself humble. Later, at dinner, his parents are relieved and are taken with surprise at Louis’ girlfriend, after having previously been worried about his choice in a partner - she was a kind, polite and beautiful young girl with good grades and parents with well paying jobs.

XIX. When Louis meets Clementine’s parents for the first time, Diana is absolutely amazed at just how kind and charismatic he is and is delighted that her daughter selected a fine young man for a partner. Edmund, however, was slightly more wary of him, as he didn’t want his only daughter to be heartbroken by such a promising partner, yet he treated him with courtesy nonetheless. Louis really likes Clementine’s home as it’s small - or at least in comparison to his home - and cozy.

XX. Clementine and Louis stayed up in her treehouse one time on one numerous occasions when he visited her house. It was pretty small but it was cute and humble, filled to the brim with drawings Clementine’s vivid imagination from her childhood.

XXI. When the school’s talent show at the end of the year came to pass, Louis was cheering Clementine on when she and a group of other girls were dancing from the crowd. He was one of her loudest supporters.

XXII. Modern Clementine is a fulltime College student at Ericson’s and works as a singer at The New Frontier bar in West Virginia and babysitting CJ, AJ, Tenn and Willy when their parents are away on the side. She sometimes brings Louis along to work as a pianist. They’re quite the musical duo. Her voice is noted to be dreamy and calming. Despite being dressed up in sequins and glitter, Clem has a dreamy appearance on stage with a soulful voice and spirit that is far older than her, twirling and dancing without a care in the world, even tossing her heels off when it becomes too painful to stand in them. She picks people out to sing duet parts with her from women to men. She ties a single flower onto her microphone every night and as she twirls, it’s like watching crystal suncatchers in the window. Louis thought she looked like a painting come to life when seeing her perform for the first time. Violet remembers how her friend was staring at Clementine for too long and began playing off-key for a few seconds before focusing again. That’s why she is so beloved, not for her allure and beauty but the charm she has just like a siren.

XXIII. Louis was the one that inspired Clementine to love her natural hair. She used to hate her hair, despising how it was always messy but since Louis - and her friends - loved it so much, she began experimenting with her hair and began liking it as her hair was a symbol of her African heritage. It’s uncommon, but not rare, to see her with her hair let loose. Her hair length when loose reaches down to her shoulders and further down. She is a lot more varied in her hairstyles, choosing several traditional African hairstyles such as box braids and cornrows, but she also straightens her hair on occasions, and she does a bunch of hairstyles with it. She dyes it several times - black, blonde, blue, red, pink, purple, orange, turquoise, silver and nebula colored. And Louis loves every style she does.

XXIV. Louis teaches Clementine the French language and culture. She was a bit messy at first but at the moment she’s an intermediate. She’s a quick study; Louis was definitely impressed.

XXV. They’re promoted as Prom King and Prom Queen together after the class’ graduation ceremony at prom. The party was held at Louis’ house (more like a mansion in truth) and it was… quite the party. Louis had been a fan of Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby and had wanted to replicate the feeling of Jay Gatsby’s feeling and he managed to pull it off after managing to convince Louis’ parents and the Garcia siblings who’d been their classmates to convince their famous uncle for support.

XXVI. On late nights, they spam each other with memes and cheesy pickup lines. They make contests on who sent the funniest memes. It’s… quite something.

XXVII. Clementine and Louis make a very amusing pair when playing videogames together. Clementine was wheezing by the end of a Mario Kart match because of how many amusing jokes and meme references he was telling her at the top of his lungs.

XXVIII. When watching an episode of Planet Earth one night, Clementine compares a bird of paradise and his mating call and mating dance to Louis and his reaction is utterly priceless. When Clem returns from getting more snacks, Louis mocks the bird of paradise and does a mating dance just for her and for the life of her, she couldn’t stop laughing and crying.

XXIX. A few months after they begin dating, they have their own vlogging channel on Youtube and they’re quite popular. They both have their own separate channels but they often collaborate on their own channel. They post memes, Vines (before the site tragically shut down, R.I.P Vine), covers of songs and dances that they perform among many other things. Some of their most popular videos are a cover of All I’ve Ever Needed by Paul MacDonald and Nikki Reed, a cover of “lovely” by Billie Eilish and Khalid and Louis and Clementine doing the Ice Bucket Challenge, and the pair playing Hide and Seek in Louis’ mansion and doing a vlog series of their end of their year long roadtrip with their entire class after the graduation party.

XXX. Louis often serenades her with song covers on special occasions and posts them on Youtube. There are far too many to mention herein but a few examples are “I Won’t Let You Go (Darling)” by Hedley, “Just The Way You Are” by Bruno Mars and “Make You Feel My Love” by Sleeping At Last. In turn, Clementine posts her reaction and on most occasions she tears up because of just how much she loves him.

XXXI. Clementine wholeheartedly supports Louis’ decision to become a singer despite his parents’ wishes. She’s actually quite the inspiration for many of the songs and the poems that he writes and he makes sure to let her read them even before they began dating, in thanks for her kindness and for all the times she showed him her poetry and drawings in her notebooks that she was too shy to reveal to anyone else.

XXXII. Louis and Clementine dressed up as a Voodoo King and Voodoo Queen respectively at a Halloween party held at his mansion. James often steals them away as guinea pigs for his experiments as a makeup artist in the making and James supplied them with the makeup. They looked absolutely glorious.

XXXIII. Louis and Clem get matching tattoos on the right arm with the following: “You move me like music.” in elegant cursive writing with musical notes all over it. Louis had to hold her hand the entire time because she was concerned about the pain.

XXXIV. Louis is genuinely surprised of just how cheesy Clementine is when it comes to romantic dates, but he’s definitely not complaining. They enjoy candle lit dinners at fancy restaurants, making sweets, stargazing on the rooftops with blankets wrapped around them, taking walks along the beach, winning a stuffed animal for each other the local carnival, and writing poetry and love letters for each other while they’re away.

XXXV. They made their own playlist on Spotify a few months after they began dating. On many nights they’re snuggled up somewhere with one earbud in Clem’s ear and the other in Louis’ as they listen to their playlist.

XXXVI. They’re quite the fashionable duo, and Clementine is a fashionista in her own right especially while dating Louis. Yet no matter what she wears, Louis still loves her for who she truly is and vice versa. Sometimes they’d walk into a room and Louis would announce their arrival like a herald presenting their sovereign. It’s golden.

XXXVII. Every summer, they go surfing on the beach and they make sure to invite their friends and AJ often. AJ’s a big fan of Louis and he gets ecstatic every time he sees him and gets really sad whenever he has to leave.

XXXVIII. They got engaged and married in their early twenties. Louis’ best man was Marlon and his attendants were Aasim, James and Mitch. Clementine’s maid of honor would be Sarah and her bridesmaids would be Ruby, Brody, Mariana, Minerva, Sophie and Violet. She carried a bouquet of roses and wore butterflies and flowers in her hair. By the time the wedding vows were said and done, Louis picked her up bridal style and twirled her around. Louis made a song for Clementine for their wedding and he played it during the feast - it drove Clementine to tears because of how beautiful it was.

XXXIX. The newlyweds went to Marrakesh, Morocco for their honeymoon. On their anniversary they make a habit of going to Hawaii to swim with dolphins and turtles.

XL. A few days after Clementine gives birth to Aaliyah at age twenty five, Louis posts a cover on Youtube of “Light” by Sleeping At Last. It easily reaches thousands of likes a few hours later.

@morefinesse

#morefinesse #my ROMANTIC ASS IS ALIVE RIGHT NOW #LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON WHY THIS IS A FEW DAYS LATE IS BECAUSE I WANTED TO MAKE IT PERFECT AGALJGGALJAGLJGA #YOU'RE A WEAPON GIRL &&. WEAPONS DON'T WEEP. ( HEADCANONS. )#TELL ME THE STORY ABOUT HOW THE SUN LOVED THE MOON SO MUCH HE DIED EVERY NIGHT TO LET HER BREATHE. ( LOUISENTINE. || MOREFINESSE. )#above the divider is in canon and post-tfs and below it is in a modern au!!#i hope you love these as much as i do ande!!<333 #you can totally reblog it if that tickles your fancy!!#i might've made it a wee bit long but it's for a good reason i promise - so voila here's my mini louisentine headcanon bible!!<3 #i also purposely left the canon section a bit shorter 'cause things can come naturally through drabbles and/or interactions<333

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