#Pop-Up Brighton

[babsi-and-stella]

Brighton Pop Festival, 1965.

[rowanhoney]

Different parts of the uk are soooo coded by their music scenes, makes it easier to pick where to live based on vibes

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

ABBA - Waterloo 1974

"Waterloo" is a song by Swedish pop group ABBA, with music composed by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus and lyrics written by Stikkan Anderson. It is first single of the group's second studio album of the same name, and their first under the Atlantic label in the US. This was also the first single to be credited to the group performing under the name ABBA. The title and lyrics reference the 1815 Battle of Waterloo, and use it as a metaphor for a romantic relationship.

In 1974, "Waterloo" represented Sweden in the 19th edition of the Eurovision Song Contest held in Brighton, winning the contest and beginning ABBA's path to worldwide fame. The song differed from the standard "dramatic ballad" tradition at the contest by its flavour and rhythm, as well as by its performance. ABBA gave the audience something that had rarely been seen before in Eurovision: flashy costumes (including silver platform boots), a catchy uptempo song and simple choreography. It was the first winning entry in a language other than that of their home country; prior to 1973, all Eurovision singers had been required to sing in their country's native tongue, a restriction that was lifted briefly for the contests between 1973 and 1976 (thus allowing "Waterloo" to be sung in English), then reinstated before ultimately being removed again in 1999. Watch the performance in Swedish here. Sveriges Radio released a promo video for "Waterloo" that was directed by film director Lasse Hallström, whose first notable English-language film success was What's Eating Gilbert Grape in 1993. ABBA recorded the German and French versions of "Waterloo" in March and April 1974; the French version was adapted by Alain Boublil, who would later go on to co-write the 1980 musical Les Misérables.

The song shot to number 1 in the UK and stayed there for two weeks, becoming the first of the band's nine UK number 1's, and the 16th biggest selling single of the year in the UK. It also topped the charts in Belgium, Denmark, Finland, West Germany, Ireland, Norway, and Switzerland, while reaching the Top 3 in Austria, France, the Netherlands, Spain, and Sweden. Unlike other Eurovision-winning tunes, the song's appeal transcended Europe: "Waterloo" also topped the charts in South Africa, and reached the Top 10 in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Rhodesia, and the US (peaking at number 6, their third-highest-charting US hit after number 1 "Dancing Queen" and number 3 "Take a Chance on Me"). In 2005, at Eurovision fiftieth anniversary competition Congratulations: 50 Years of the Eurovision Song Contest, "Waterloo" was chosen as the best song in the contest's history.

"Waterloo" is featured in the encore of the musical Mamma Mia!. The song does not have a context or a meaning. It is just performed as a musical number in which members of the audience are encouraged to get up off their seats and sing, dance and clap along. The song is performed by the cast over the closing credits of the film Mamma Mia!, but is not featured on the official soundtrack. It is also performed as part of the story in the sequel, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, by Hugh Skinner and Lily James.

The Australian film Muriel's Wedding (1994), features "Waterloo" in a pivotal scene in which lead Toni Collette bonds with the character played by Rachel Griffiths. The film's soundtrack, featuring five ABBA tracks, is widely regarded as having helped to fuel the revival of popular interest in ABBA's music in the mid-1990s. "Waterloo" features prominently in the 2015 science-fiction film The Martian. The song plays as the film's lead, played by Matt Damon, works to ready his launch vehicle for a last-chance escape from Mars. In "Mother Simpson", the eighth episode of the seventh season of The Simpsons, Mr. Burns plays "Ride of the Valkyries" from a tank about to storm the Simpson home, but the song is cut-off and "Waterloo" is played, to which Smithers apologizes, advising he "must have accidentally taped over that".

"Waterloo" received a total of 89% yes votes!

(the video is posted by ABBA's own account, not Eurovision's = safe to watch)

[repulsiveliquidation]

Chosen Family

Leah Williamson x Reader x Arsenal Women.

word count : 2.8k

this was meant to be a blurb but oh well

warnings : mentions of death, swearing, it's kinda sweet...?

“While we have valued your skill addition to the team, we cannot find any reason to retain you and that it why we are terminating your contract, effective immediately; other teams will bid for your purchase by the end of the month.”

That was the last thing that you heard until you stopped listening. The room began to feel small. It was spinning, your head just immediately began to throb. Combined with the need to throw up was the cherry on top. You blinked at your agent, who was stone-faced but determined to fight for you, in a plea to let you leave. He nodded and leaned in to talk to you. “Go, kiddo. Find the girls, I’ll sort this out.”

You scramble out of the room, not caring what the board thinks. You run; fast. Tears are cascading down your face, hot and frustrated ones. Your legs knew where to run, where to find your beloved girls.

//

19 and fresh out of your first senior Lionesses call up, was a day you didn’t think would come. You were on the plane back home from the 2023 World Cup a little gloomy; a text from Leah changed the whole day around for you. It was a simple one, curt and just what you expected from the North London girl.

“Welcome to Arsenal.”

You were playing for Brighton Albion right now, while you loved it there, Arsenal was your well-known dream. Going through the academy was the best thing that ever happened to you but when you didn’t get moved up to the first team and instead bought by Brighton, you immediately made it known that if ever they were interested, you’d even transfer for free (your agent did NOT like that.)

The girls cheered and clapped, celebrations were in order for the youngest Lioness. They popped champagne (you sneaked a flute, Alessia winked at you), food was eaten with more enthusiasm.

When you stepped on that pitch for the first time as part of the First Team, you cried. Leah made fun of you for a week but you didn’t care. Your dream was now your reality. You made it. Your parents passed away when you were 14 from a car accident, they were both die hard Arsenal fans, it was your fathers dream to see you in an Arsenal shirt with your last name on the back. You were at this facility that day, that day was the hardest day of your life. Today came a close second.

//

“I’m sorry daddy.” You whisper, fresh tears pricking in your eyes. You push open the changing room door and walk in, the girls immediately quieten down when they see your tear-stained face.

“You’ve only been gone a half hour, you miss us that much?” Leah jumps up enthusiastically and walks over to you to pull you into the changing room.

“Leah, shut up. What’s wrong, kleintje?” Viv asks, pulling you into her arms. Everyone’s mood changes when they realize they’re sad tears.

“They’re getting rid of me.” You say quietly, muffled into Viv’s chest. She kisses the top of your head, rare affection from the Dutchwoman, before pulling your head away from her chest.

“Say again for me love?”

“They’re selling me, they fired me.”

“They can’t do that.”

“They just did.”

You’re crying again, now passed to Beth’s arms as Viv, Leah, Alessia, Katie, Lotte and Stina begin to march out of the room angrily. You beg them not to, crumbling to your knees.

“Please, you shouldn't have to fight for me. They’re just throwing me away…I-I thought I was good enough to b-be on the team! Like a fucking whore, sold to the highest bidder!” you’re heaving, their eyes soften and they rush to you; Leah getting to you first. She kneels before you and pulls you into her arms, cradling your crying head against her chest.

“Hey, stop that. They’re not selling you, we will make sure of it. They can’t, not like this.”

“What if you can’t? What if you can’t stop them?”

“We never play football again, darling. It’s that simple.” Piped in Alessia, anger seething behind her eyes.

“I couldn’t make you all do that.”

“Watch us. Every single one of us. I might bleed North London but no one treats my family this way. You’re our baby, no one messes with this family.” Leah said, everyone in the room nodding their heads in agreement.

“What did your agent say, darlin’?” asked Katie, coming up beside you to rub your back just as your agent walked in.

“You can ask him.”

“Cut the shit, Tony. What did they say?” Leah pounced on him, he only shook his head slowly.

“I told them that the transfer window was long closed. Turns out that that doesn’t really matter when you fire a player; they’re just sold like any other player that can be sold. I know you girls are mad for her; please don’t do anything stupid like all quit football altogether.”

“How the hell did you figure that out?”

“I’m an agent for a reason. I’m also her guardian, I know you lot well enough to know you’d do something like that for my Y/N.”

“Why the fuck are they selling our best forward then?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be damned if I don’t find out.” He walked over to you, the girls help you stand.

“I will not stop until I find out why, kiddo. I promised your father I would take care of you, I intend to do that. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Tones.”

“Atta girl, I know you’ll be in good hands with these girls. I’m sorry, but training will have to be at home till I can find out why you’re out of a fucking job. I love you, Martha wants you over for dinner on Saturday; bring her some of your cookies will you? You lot are invited if you’re interested.” he kisses your forehead and walks out of the room, already calling people on the phone.

“Come on baby, let’s get you home.” Beth cooed, Viv immediately grabbing all your things from your cubby. 

“Pack her a bag and take her to mine, she stays with me till this is over.” Leah tells the two, they nod and usher you out before you can make any form of protest.

The drive to your apartment was a quiet one, Beth sat in the back with you while Viv drove. You could tell she was mad, her jaw clenched as she was mumbling under her breath. You reached over an arm and grasped her shoulder, she visibly relaxed and looked at you through the rear-view mirror.

“We’ll figure this out, lieveling. Don’t you worry.”

//

Arsenal Women look to sell Y/N L/N to the highest bidder in a sudden dropping of her from the squad. Teams like Manchester United and Bayern Munich are among those highly interested in the prodigy forward from North London.

//

“Hi angel, the guest room is all set for ya. You’re welcome in my bed if you’d rather; fair warning, I am a snorer.” Leah winked at you, helping you take your bags into the house.

“I know you do, Kiera told me at camp one time.”

“That sneaky woman. I’ll be having a word with her, pet. Come on in, make yourself at home. The rest of the girls are on the balcony, they really invited themselves over you know; how rude, coming into our home like that!”

Our home, she said. You really didn’t need to worry with these girls, they’ve got your back.

//

Leah had to drag you to training although technically you couldn’t participate. It made your heart ache, being there but not being able to play. Jonas shot you a sorry look, allowing you to steal a football and kick it around on your own. The girls were all feeling sorry for you, one of them always coming over to check on you each hour.

Lotte walked over after their 6 a side scrimmage, spraying you with her water bottle before you shot up and chased her around the pitch.

You finally caught her, cursing her long legs. She merely side hugged you, kissing your warm, sweaty forehead.

“That take your mind off things for a bit, little bit?” she asked, her choice in nickname made you smile.

“It did, thanks Lotte.” You lean into her and say, both of you watching Katie spray her water bottle at Beth and before you knew it everyone was doing the same. It made you heartily laugh, all the girls more than happy to get their shirts soaked if it meant little bit was smiling for just a little bit.

//

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in here, Ms. L/N.”

“She’s with me, Ben.”

“I’m sorry Leah, she can’t be on the training pitch. Boss’ orders.”

“Well, she’s coming with me and we’re going to see about that. Come, Y/N.”

You trail behind Leah as she walks with determination to Jonas’ office. He’s in a meeting, she simply does not care.

“I’d like to know why she can’t come to the training ground and whose idea was it to do so.”

“It came from upstairs Leah, it was on my table this morning. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t even try to do anything about it? She’s still a part of this team!”

“I’m sorry Leah, she isn’t. She can’t be here.”

“Go downstairs and put your boots on, Y/N. Un-FUCKING-believable.”

“Leah, I’ll just get an Uber and g­–”

“I said, go downstairs and put your fucking boots on. Now.”

You walk out of the room and do as she says. She comes back out to the pitch 20 minutes later with huge smile on her face, winking at you.

“All sorted darling, nothing to worry about. Sorry if I scared you.”

You run and hug her, she merely smiles wider and kisses your head.

“Thank you Leah,” you whisper, only meant for her to hear.

“Anything for you, my love.”

//

“What are we feeling for dinner, darling?” Beth called as you were sitting in their living room playing Fifa.

“I don’t care, but a pizza sounds fucking delicious right now.”

“Language! Leah is a horrendous influence on you. Sausage and banana peppers?”

“Sorry, mum. Yes please.”

Beth walked in and rolled her eyes, picking up the takeaway menu stack near the tv.

“What is this that I hear that I’m a bad influence?”

“Leah!” you yelled, jumping up from the couch and jumping into her arms. You had grown quite attached to the older woman, her fierce protective nature from the start of your journey of international football along with the move to Arsenal had made you fall in love with her. It was a secret you were willing to take to the grave if you got to enjoy her and not risk losing her.

It had more to do with the age gap, it wasn’t monstrously large but it would turn heads either way with you being a teenager still. You turn twenty in less than a week anyway, maybe if you could muster up the courage you’d tell her.

“Hello, pea. Beth bullying ya?”

“No, she said my swearing is because of you. But we’re getting pizza!”

“That sounds lovely, angel. I love pizza, pizza loves me. Wanna see if you can beat me at a game while we wait?” she says, pointing to the paused football match on the tv.

“What’s in it for me?” you tell her cheekily, grabbing a second controller for her.

“You’ll have to beat me to find out, doll.”

Viv walked in, standing with Beth as they watched the two of you playing.

“So, who’s gonna tell them?” Viv asks bluntly.

“They’re right knobheads the pair of them. It could be written on their foreheads and they’d miss it.”

//

You were more than happy to have a little cake and a song for your birthday. Years without parents who died around your birthday made it a sore subject. Tony and Martha made it better though, both of them really did try their best to make sure you were well cared for and for that you were forever grateful. No one texted you all day though, you’ll be honest, it made you a little sadder. You were just about order some takeout when Leah walked into the house with balloons, cake, the girls, and much more. Katie led the chorus for ‘Happy Birthday’ so offkey you were sure your ears were genuinely bleeding. She pulled a party hat on your head and kissed your forehead, holding your face in her hands and she whispered, “Happy Birthday, little bit.”

You were crying, touched by their kind gesture. Only Leah knew the extent of why birthdays were a little sore for you, a proud smile on her face as the rest of the girls busied themselves with laying out the food and putting the decorations up. She smiled at you, eyes full of love like you were the only one in the room.

She walked up to you with the cake as Stina lit the candle, her bright smile on her face.

“Make a wish, pretty girl.” She said, you closed your eyes and made your wish. You blew out the candle; the cake was handed off to Viv.  

She pulled you into her arms, kissing your nose. She had that same look of pure adoration on her face; you were scared of asking the question itching on the tip of your tongue. Luckily, Leah asked it for you.

“Happy birthday, special girl. Can I take you out on a date sometime?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to ask you that.”

“No time like the present, kiddo.”

She leaned in and kissed you softly, your lips molding perfectly to hers. The room cheered loudly, Beth yelling at the top of her lungs while Viv looked like a proud parent.

//

“Did your uncle ever mention that he was suing the guy who got into that accident with your parents?”

“No, I thought they didn’t know who it was.”

“Well, they do. He knows you too.”

“How the hell could he know me.”

“He’s the scumbag who hired you then fired you.”

“What are you saying, Tones?”

“When the lawsuit came in and the names were revealed he realized that someone leaked the information he tried so hard to keep buried and your name was in there. He thought you figured it out and were coming after him through your uncle. So, he fired you. Probably thought that would send a clear message that he could ruin you.”

“Tony, this is a lot to take in.”

“I know, kid. You leave it to me, you hear? Especially leave your new girlfriend out of it. She’s great but fucking scary.”

“Tony, it’s on speaker!”

“I know where you sleep Tony.” Leah supplied happily.

“Shit. Please kid, between the two of you only yeah? I love you.”

“I love you too, Tones. Send Martha my love.”

“Sure thing. Be safe, please?”

Click.

“What the hell am I going to do, Lee?”

“We’re gonna fight baby. Every single one of us. We got ya.”

“Tony literally just told you, you couldn’t kill the guy.”

“I will if I have to, you’re my girl now. You’ve always been my girl but now circumstances have changed. I know a guy who knows a guy; I’ll do it with my bare hands if I had to.”

“Tony was right, you are mad scary.”

//

Arsenal Board member sentenced to 10 years in prison for countless charges. The Plaintiff, Y/N L/N was rewarded with an undisclosed settlement for damages that caused the death of her parents 6 years ago, which turned out to be a massive coverup. Her position as forward on the Arsenal Women’s team had been reinstated effective immediately.

//

“We did it, little bit.” Lotte hugged you, the rest of the girls filtering into your home. Okay, it was Leah’s and she did just ask you to move in with her but it was nice to have someone to share a home with.

“I’m so proud of you, kid.” said Katie.

“You’re stronger than you look, Y/N/N.” said Stina.

“I have pictures of you on the stand!” said Alessia.

Their words were drowned out by the sound of a certain blonde and blue eyed, Milton Keynes accented, Lioness captain that was praising you.

“You did perfectly today, pea.”

“Thanks Lee. I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.” You turn and face all the girls and continue.

“Without you all, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the past few weeks. You’ve all shown me what real family looks like and I can’t thank you enough. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.” You were crying, wiping away tears before Alessia yelled “Group hug!” and you were wrapped up in many arms.

Once they let go, Leah came up behind you and kissed your cheek. You lean back into her, rubbing her strong arms that were around you.

“Thank you Leah, for everything.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 14

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Implied smut, angst, attempted sexual assault - it's stopped, but there is non-consensual kissing and fondling. Misogyny and violence.

Word Count: 5,115

A/N: Here's Ch. 14, the penultimate chapter! I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Dean bounded up the stairs leading to his front door, two at a time. He needed to get in and out quickly. He was already running behind and he didn’t need to be waylaid by his family. He just needed to change for the show before going to pick up Y/N. He had a lot of clothes stashed away in her hotel wardrobe, but not his tuxedo. 

Just the thought of Y/N made anger churn in his stomach again, but he pushed it aside. Thoughts of her had kept him distracted all afternoon, and it was affecting his work. 

It was pointless to be angry, anyway; it didn’t matter enough to be angry. There had always been a fifty-fifty chance of her staying or going. Sure, maybe her decision to let him bed her the night before had confirmed for him that she meant to stay, but she obviously didn’t see it that way. 

So that was the end of it.

He walked carefully through his front door, happy to find his home quiet; no one was around as he crossed the foyer to the wide staircase that led up to his bedroom. When he was halfway up, however, he heard Jessica call to him from the bottom.

“Dean! You’re here.”

He sighed. “Evidently.” He said as he stopped and turned back, trying for a smile as she climbed the staircase to join him.

“Why are you here?”

“Well, I do believe I live here.” He said sardonically. 

She cocked her head and gave him a look that said she didn’t think he was funny. “You know what I mean. You’ve barely been around since we’ve been here. Or should I say,” she raised an eyebrow, “since Y/N’s been here.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “I’ve been busy with work. Which is why I’ve gotta get going now.” He pointed upstairs. “I’m late.”

Jessica frowned. “You’re late for work at,” she checked the grandfather clock on the landing. “at seven thirty in the evening?”

Dean sighed. “I’m taking potential business partners to The Manhattan, the vaudeville theater, for a show tonight. I’m just here to get dressed.” 

He’d invited George Taskett and Simon Brighton, the owner of Clearwater Pulp and Paper to come to the show with them. He refused to believe the small voice in the back of his mind that told him he only did it so he wouldn’t be alone with Y/N all evening. He’d simply done it as an apology for being utterly distracted in their meetings earlier that afternoon.

He turned away from Jessica to start up the stairs again, but she reached out to grab his wrist. 

“Wait. I…I wanted to talk to you.”

Dean sighed. “Sure. What is it?”

Jessica let go of his wrist to cross her arms over her waist, stepping up one stair so that she was on the same step as Dean, leveling their heights. It wasn’t often that Dean found himself standing nearly eye to eye with a woman, but Jess was very tall. 

Perfect fit for Sam. Dean thought, even as the fierce look in her eye had him bracing for an onslaught.

“I was wondering what…what are your intentions with Y/N?”

Dean frowned darkly. “Excuse me?”

Jessica raised her chin. “You heard me. Y/N is a respectable woman.”

Dean’s voice was low and strained. “Have I ever insinuated that she isn’t?”

Jessica made a scoffing noise. “I know about the offer you made to her, and I believe that it was less than respectable.”

Dean’s jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly as he spoke. “My private affairs are no business of yours.” He said, turning away and starting back up the stairs.

“They are my business when they concern my governess, a respectable young woman that we’ve taken under our wing.” 

She followed him up the stairs to the landing. “Someone we see as family!” She called out to him when he started up the second half of the stairs.

He turned back to her. “Y/N is a grown woman and is quite capable of making her own decisions. In fact, I doubt very much she’d appreciate this little conversation.”

Jessica stomped up the steps after him. “I know for a fact she doesn’t want me to talk to you, because she told me not to. But I thought…” 

She reached his level again and stared at him for a moment. Then her shoulders deflated and she shook her head. “I thought I could get through to you. Make you understand that you’re throwing away a remarkable woman, kind and caring, beautiful, intelligent.”

Dean waved away her words, running up the rest of the stairs. “I’m well aware of Y/N’s attributes, thank you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you marry her? I mean my god, you love each other, that much is obvious, so I simply don’t understand your reasoning.”

Dean went deathly still, alarm bells screaming in his head. The same bells that had been going off for weeks now, maybe longer. 

He looked back at Jessica and knew his anger was obvious. “That is absolutely not true and you have no idea what you’re talking about! I am not ‘in love’ with anyone, and I have absolutely no intention of ever being married!”

He took a breath and attempted to speak calmly, but his voice was still raised. “Now, since you seem to know all about my life anyway, I’ll tell you straight out that Y/N has refused my offer and will be returning home with you in a couple of days. Seems as though continuing on as a ‘respectable woman’ as you put it, has trumped being ‘in love’.” He spat the words out, his stomach bound in knots and the now familiar panic climbing in his chest.

He turned away from her again and Jessica chased after him. “I simply don’t understand you!” She shouted at him. 

He spun back to face her. “You don’t have to understand me! You just have to mind your own damn business and stop-”

“Mommy?”

Lucy’s little voice interrupted Dean and he turned, still breathing heavily, to see Lucy standing in the doorway to her room, rubbing her eyes. She’d obviously already been in bed and their shouting had woken her up.

“What’s wrong?” 

Jessica walked over to pick her up and give her a shaky smile. “Nothing, poppet. Uncle Dean and I were just…talking.”

Lucy pouted. “Loudly.”

Dean reached over to pinch her cheek lightly, trying hard to keep his voice level. “Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to wake you. I’ve gotta go now anyway, so you go on back to sleep.”

He turned away quickly before Jessica had the chance to say anything more. He tried desperately to erase her words from his mind, but they summed up one of his worst nightmares and he had a hard time wiping them away.

***

Y/N was just starting to wonder whether Dean was simply not going to come, when she saw him appear on the other side of the garden doors, knocking gently.

She stood up from her chair and waved him in. He opened the doors and stepped through, bringing the scent of cold air with him.

He nodded at her and she smiled a false smile.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “I apologize for being late. Work went longer than I expected. But we made a lot of progress. I hope you don't mind but I've invited George Taskett and Simon Brighton to the show with us this evening. Just as a gesture of goodwill while negotiations are being finalized.”

Y/N nodded. “Of course. That's smart.”

He nodded back and an awkward silence sat between them for a few seconds before Dean picked up Y/N’s coat from the chair and held it open for her.

“Well, shall we?”

***

As they jostled along the New York streets, Y/N found herself getting more and more annoyed at the continuing silence between them. If this was how the rest of their time together was going to go, she didn't think she could take it. 

She turned to look at his stiff profile; it was gorgeous like a marble statue, and just as unmoving.

She sighed. “Are we honestly not even going to talk about this?”

She saw his jaw tick. Movement at last! “Talk about what?” He asked, dully.

Y/N refused to answer such a ridiculous and redundant question, merely staring at him until he finally turned his head slightly to look at her briefly before rolling his eyes and looking forward again.

“What is there to talk about, Y/N?”

Y/N barked out a laugh without humor. “A lot, potentially.”

He growled slightly under his breath, and shifted in the seat so his torso faced her. 

“Have you changed your mind? Hmm? Ready to accept my offer after all?”

Y/N's heart squeezed tight and she heard a voice in her mind shout a resounding “Yes!” But she shook her head sadly. 

“No, but-”

“Then that's it, isn't it?! It’s finished. There's nothing else to discuss because we’ve already discussed it. So that's it, and we're done.”

Y/N felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. She knew he was referring to the discussion being over, but the words went much deeper than their current conversation and they both knew it.

She nodded slightly and turned to stare out the front of the carriage again. “Yes, fine.”

A few minutes later, they finally pulled up outside The Manhattan Theater, which was large and impressive. The lobby inside held a glittering chandelier and lively art on the walls; Y/N knew that under better  circumstances she would have been excited and eager to be there. But the world seemed dim now, all of it lacking in color.

Then, afew minutes after arriving, her evening got much worse.

George Taskett was approaching them with a smile, and walking just behind him was Byron Temple; and he was smiling the way an alligator smiles, like he’s just waiting to swallow you whole.

The two men reached them and George held out his hand to Dean. “Good to see you Winchester and thanks again for the tickets. I don't get out very often when we come up to New York, so this is wonderful.”

He patted Byron on the shoulder. “Hope you don't mind, but Mr. Brighton sent word that he'd been called back to the mill on some urgent business and couldn't attend. So, not wanting the ticket to go to waste, I invited Byron along.”

Dean's smile wasn't echoed in his tone.

“Of course not. Good thinking.” He reached out a hand to Temple and the man shook it, his beady blue eyes calculating and cold. 

Dean stepped back and put his hand on Y/N's lower back. “You both remember my companion, Miss Taylor?”

Y/N bowed her head towards the two men. Taskett smiled warmly. “Of course I remember. Couldn't forget such a lovely face.” 

“Indeed.” Byron said, smiling again and making Y/N's skin crawl. “You seem to have bloomed even more since our last meeting.”

Despite everything going on between them, Y/N pressed herself into Dean's side and was immensely grateful when he slipped his hand around the side of her waist to hold her there.

The lobby lights dimmed briefly, letting them know the show was about to start, so they all filed into the theater. George and Byron were sitting a couple of rows behind them, so they parted ways and took their seats, agreeing to meet in the lobby afterwards.

Y/N was very glad to lose Byron Temple's uncomfortable presence. But as she and Dean sat down beside each other, she began to feel the tension grow between them once again. 

The show began, and the first act was a dancing clown who did a lot more prat falling than dancing. Everyone else laughed and clapped at his antics, but even though Y/N clapped along, she couldn't force herself to laugh. 

She smiled politely through the other acts; a man and a dog who performed tricks together, a comedian who told vaguely risque jokes that she wouldn't have understood a few months ago, a male and female dance act who were decidedly better than the clown, and many other interesting acts. Sometimes they were very talented, and sometimes just unusual. 

But Y/N knew that a few days ago she would have loved them all. Now; however, her heart was simply too battered to enjoy any of it.

Then, just before the last act of the evening, Lillian Russell came on stage. Y/N knew her name; she knew she was a singer. But judging by the reaction of the crowd, she realized that she must be an incredibly popular singer. The audience cheered loudly, clapping for a full minute as Miss Russell stood on stage, graciously waving and curtsying to the crowd.

As the cheers finally quieted, the orchestra struck up and the soprano began to sing. Her voice  was rich and sweet - certainly beautiful enough for Y/N to understand the reaction she’d received. She sang three songs, to the thunderous applause of the audience. But as she tried to leave the stage after the third, the crowd cheered for her to sing more. 

Someone near the front shouted, “After the Ball!” And everyone around him picked up the cry, chanting for her to sing the popular song. 

Y/N's stomach clenched as Miss Russell smiled indulgently and held out a hand towards the orchestra. “Alright, just the chorus through twice then, shall we?”

The familiar notes of the waltz began and Y/N felt tears come to her eyes, letting them fall as the soprano's beautiful voice gave heart wrenching power to the melancholic lyrics.

After the ball is over,

After the break of morn—

After the dancers' leaving;

After the stars are gone;

Many a heart is aching,

If you could read them all;

Many the hopes that have vanished,

After the ball.

As the orchestra played the closing notes and the crowd began to clap wildly, Y/N dipped her head towards Dean quickly.

“Excuse me.” She said, rising and making her way to the end of the aisle and then out into the lobby. Those lyrics had felt a little too relatable and the lilting melody brought back the memory of Dean waltzing with her around her hotel room.

Was that really only yesterday morning? Y/N thought. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She quickly made her way to the ladies room, incredibly grateful that it was empty while the rest of the audience watched the end of the show. She sat on one of the padded benches and tried to get ahold of herself. This whole evening had been a mistake. After their disastrous goodbye earlier, Y/N should have begged off.

As it turned out, pretending she was fine when her heart was splintering into tiny pieces was actually remarkably difficult.

After a minute or two, Y/N felt a little more in control, and splashed some cold water on her face at the sink, patting it dry with her handkerchief and then tucking it back in her purse. She took a big breath and walked back through the door, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the man waiting for her just outside.

“I saw you run this way.” Byron Temple said in a dark voice. “I thought I should come make sure you were alright.”

Y/N squeezed her hands into fists, immediately disliking the fact that the ladies room was tucked away under the stairs, hidden from the main lobby. She supposed it was designed to give ladies some privacy, but that was the last thing she wanted right now.

She licked her lips and tried to smile. “That's very kind. But I'm fine, thank you. Just powdering my nose. If you'll excuse me, Dean will be waiting for me.”

She tried to step past him, but he snagged her wrist and pushed her further under the stairs. She tugged against his hold, trying to break it, but he held firm.

“Don't know why you're running back to that bastard. I can see that he's made you cry.” He ran his thumb across her cheek and she slapped his hand away. He merely chuckled. 

“I told you before, pet, to call on me when Winchester sets you aside. And I'm guessing by the tension between you two, and the tears staining your cheeks now, that it's either happened or is just about to happen.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Y/N said in a harsh whisper. “Now unhand me and leave me alone.”

“Don't be like that, pet. I promise that I can offer you a lot more than he can. I'll show you just how a woman like you should be treated.” 

Y/N yanked on her wrist again, speaking quietly but angrily. “You are disgusting and vile and I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? Now let go of me this instant, or I’ll tell Dean what you've said here and he’ll-”

Byron laughed. “No you won't, and if you did, so what? Do you honestly think he’d care when he’s done with you anyway? Do you really believe he's going to toss away the massive deal that’s been brokered between our companies, a deal that’s been six months in the making - just because I upset his little whore?” 

Y/N clenched her jaw, embarrassment spreading through her at the degrading insult. But she had no doubt of her answer. “Yes. I know he would.”

But Byron ignored her, yanking her up against him and shaking his head. “I think what you really need is a taste of what you're missing out on.”

Before she could even squeal a protest he slammed his mouth over hers, shoving his tongue past her closed lips and making her gag. Acting completely on instinct, Y/N bit down on the slimy muscle invading her mouth, making Byron swear and rip his mouth away from hers. 

She could taste the coppery blood he left behind in her mouth, and then he backhanded her and the sharp taste of her own blood mixed with his.

“Fucking bitch.” He growled at her with quiet rage, pushing her backwards until she was shoved up against the wall. “I would have treated you so nice. But I guess now I have to show you what a real man does with nasty whores.” 

He slammed his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air and making her panic instantly. He bent his head slightly, attaching his foul mouth to her neck, while his other hand was shoved up her skirts, grabbing at her thigh and pulling at the ties on her drawers as she struggled against him.

Then suddenly he was ripped away from her and she bent double, gasping air into her starved lungs. 

She looked up in time to see Dean smashing his fist into Temple's face, a loud crunch indicating that his nose was now broken. The older man fell to the ground with a howl and Dean immediately jumped on him, pummeling him endlessly with left and right blows, as blood spewed over the marble floor beneath them.

Coming out of her stupor, Y/N ran to Dean, pulling on his arm, just as a crowd began to gather. George Taskett pushed his way through the crowd to pull on Dean’s other arm, just barely managing to pry him off. 

“What on earth is going on here?” He shouted, obviously very confused.

Dean was breathing harshly, and his tuxedo was askew, but otherwise Temple hadn't managed to get in even a single blow.

“I'll tell you what's happening!” Dean shouted. “The goddamn deal is off.”

Both Y/N and George gave Dean wide-eyed, disbelieving looks. 

“Dean, don't.” Y/N said softly, beginning to tremble.

“What are you talking about, Winchester? What has gone on here?” George asked again, looking down at his Vice President laying on the ground as Byron covered his bleeding, broken nose and, horribly, spat out a tooth.

“If you think for one minute I'm going to do business with scum like this, a man so lacking in moralality that he would-,” Dean cut himself off and then waved dismissively at Temple, “well, then you're crazy.”

He grabbed Y/N's hand and quickly hustled her out through the gathered crowd. Y/N looked back helplessly at George Taskett, who seemed to be completely knocked for a loop.

Dean quickly hailed a cab and helped Y/N up into it. “Rialto Hotel, quickly.” He told the driver as he climbed in behind her. The driver clicked his tongue at the horses and they sped away. 

Dean tried to look at her more closely in the dim light of the carriage, pushing her disheveled hair off of her face. But Y/N was shaking too hard now, as the terror of the situation came crashing down upon her. She just shook her head and buried her face in Dean’s chest, weeping uncontrollably now that she was safe.

Dean gave up trying to see her face and just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He lifted her out of the cab when they arrived, and refused to put her down until they were inside the room.

She stood in the middle of the floor, while he quickly lit all the lamps and closed the curtains. Then he returned to where she stood and gently peeled her coat off of her shoulders. He stayed behind her to take the pins out of her hair, pulling it back off her face while she inhaled deep, shuddery breaths, finally calming down enough to speak softly to him.

“Thank you.”

Dean just shook his head and turned her to face him, moving her into the light a little more and trying once again to see the damage. She watched his face contort with rage all over again as he saw her split lip and the angry bruise she could feel pulsing under the skin of her right cheekbone.

But he gritted his teeth and his voice was gentle as he kissed her forehead. “Just wait here, sweetheart.”

He moved off to the bathroom and she heard him running the bath. Tears began to fall again as he came back and led her into the warmly lit room, filled with the scent of lavender. 

He removed her clothes gently, and then helped her step into the tub. She looked back at him as he held her hand. 

“Will you hold onto me?” 

Dean nodded and stripped away his clothes quickly, stepping in behind her and sitting them both down in the warm, fragrant water.

For a little while he simply held her as she’d asked, pressing soft kisses to her temple and along her hairline. Eventually he took one of the clean cloths and ran it under the cold water tap for a moment before pressing it to the side of her face that was still throbbing.

“Y/N, what happened?” He finally whispered to her.

So she told him. Her voice was quiet and halting at first, but she eventually told him everything, including what had happened at the poker game.

Dean clicked his tongue. “Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me that sooner? I would have ended things with that snake immediately.”

“Exactly.” Y/N said with conviction. “That's why I didn’t tell you. I knew how important that deal was, how hard you'd worked on it, and I didn't want you to have to end it simply because of some insults from a jackass.”

Dean shook his head. “That wasn't something you needed to worry about.”

Y/N shrugged. “Of course it was. It was important to you.”

“Yes, but not more-” Dean cut himself off and Y/N felt him tense before he continued 

 “You should have told me.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, I should have.”

Dean was quiet for a minute before pulling the cloth away from her cheek and kissing her there gently. “Ready to get out?”

She nodded again and Dean stood up to help her out of the cooling water.

He dried her off and then combed gently through her hair before braiding it, pampering her in much the same way as he had that first night they’d spent in the hotel together. Y/N knew she would have started crying again, if she’d had any tears left to shed. But she'd finally cried herself out and now she was just exhausted. 

Dean tucked her into bed and seemed to hesitate a moment before climbing in after her and pulling her back against his warm chest. Her heart hurt, and her head ached, but despite that, her tired mind slipped, fairly quickly, into a very restless sleep. 

Some time in the middle of the night Y/N woke to find Dean wasn't beside her. She sat up quickly and sighed in relief when she saw him sitting in one of the green chairs. The light in the room was dim, just one lamp burning, and he was cast in shadows.

“What are you doing?” Y/N called to him softly.

Dean got up and came to sit on the bed facing her. “You punched me twice in your sleep, and I thought maybe I was making you have bad dreams, holding you the way I was.”

Y/N shook her head and shuddered. “No. You weren't the bad guy in my dreams.” She whispered.

Dean pushed her braid back off her shoulder. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry I brought him anywhere near your life.”

Y/N frowned. “But it isn't your fault. You couldn't have known. I'm just grateful for the rescue.” She took a deep breath. “You know…he's the reason - one of the reasons - I said no to your offer.”

Dean tensed. “Y/N…”

But she just continued. “Or, well, men just like him. He called me…” The word stuck in her throat and she cleared it. “He called me a whore, you know. And…he wouldn't be the only one. Most of the world would believe the same, if I stayed with you.”

Dean's jaw ticked, but he nodded. “Yes, I understand. And I’m sorry for that. The world can be an ugly, hypocritical place.” 

He licked his lips. “But what I’ve offered you, Y/N, it's…it's all I can offer. I can't…I won't get married, and I won't love you.”

Y/N felt what was left of her heart shatter completely.

Dean spoke softly, shaking his head. “I can't, sweetheart. I won't.” He reiterated before taking a shaky breath. “But you and Jessica are right.”

Y/N frowned, trying hard to keep the ever present tears at bay. “Jessica?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed slightly, “she took me to task earlier tonight. Said I had no right to make an offer like that to a respectable lady.”

He shrugged and one corner of his mouth lifted. “And she was right. You deserve more out of life than to be ostracized by the world. You deserve to get what you always wanted, what you told me you wanted all those months ago.” 

He smiled at her gently and ran his fingers along her jaw. “You deserve contentment, children, a respectable cottage and a…” He paused and cleared his throat, nodding as though he was answering a question in his own mind. “And a compatible husband.” 

Y/N wanted to shout at him that he'd made those things impossible now, that she wouldn’t find contentment without him, that the compatible husband she'd always wanted was sitting right in front of her. 

But she didn't say any of that; he'd made his feelings very clear, and she couldn't fault him for not loving her. It wasn't a given that just because she loved him with every fiber of her being, he was going to love her back.

“I won't love you.”

At least he wasn’t lying to her - trying to hold onto her under false pretenses.

She smiled at him now, through her brokenness. “Yes, I'll hope for those things, I guess. But…” 

She swallowed hard and tugged on his hand. “Will you come back to bed, and do those things you do to me that make me forget everything else? Kiss me until the world fades away to nothing but you and me?”

As he leaned in to claim her mouth in a searing kiss, Dean's bright green eyes glittered like jewels and she knew in that moment, that emeralds would always make her cry.

***

Y/N woke late the next morning and she wasn’t surprised by the empty bed beside her. She'd felt Dean disappear from her before the sun had even broken over the horizon. 

She sat up and saw the note that was tucked under her snow globe on the table. She wrapped the sheet around her and walked over to sit gingerly on the edge of the chair that was closest. She stared down at the folded piece of paper for a couple of minutes before picking it up and unfolding it. 

Dean's neat, bold handwriting took up the whole page.

Y/N read over the short note several times, hoping to find something more than the words on the page, but that was it.

She folded it back up and let it flutter to the floor as she wound up her snow globe and set it down on the table, staring at it as she rested her chin on her folded arms. For a long time, as her tears flowed silently, she drank in the frozen scene of permanent joy that could never be hers.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@kr804573

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[bluewinnerangel]

FITF Tour exit songs

- NA LEG - Uncasville: Tina Turner - The Best

Gilford: The Smiths - This Charming Man

Laval: Petula Clark - Downtown

Toronto: Bryan Adams - Summer Of '69

Cuyahoga Falls: The Verve - Bitter Sweet Symphony

Sterling Heights: Shed Seven - Chasing Rainbows

Cincinnati: The Killers - All These Things That I've Done

Columbus: R.E.M. - The One I Love

Indianapolis: Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart

Maryland Heights (St. Louis): Chuck Berry - Johnny B. Goode

Kansas City: Van Morrison - Moondance

Milwaukee: Johnny Nash - I Can See Clearly Now

Chicago: Earth, Wind & Fire - September

Minneapolis: Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U

Council Bluffs: Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)

Sioux Falls: Don McLean - American Pie

Seattle: The Smiths - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Vancouver: The Police - King Of Pain

Troutdale: Elvis Presley - Always On My Mind

Berkeley: INXS - Never Tear Us Apart

Los Angeles: 2Pac - California Love

Las Vegas: The Killers - Human

Phoenix: Spear Of Destiny - Liberator

Irving: The Doors - Hello, I Love You

Austin: Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

Houston The Woodlands: The Police - Walking On The Moon

St. Augustine: The Police - Every Breath You Take

Hollywood: Elton John - Your Song

Tampa: Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Atlanta: The Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want

Nashville: Duran Duran - Hold Back The Rain

Charlotte: Lou Reed - Perfect Day

Raleigh: Van Morrison - Moondance

Columbia: Commodores - Easy

Boston 1: Boston - More Than A Feeling

Boston 2: Pixies - Here Comes Your Man

Philadelphia: Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U

Asbury Park: Bruce Springsteen - Dancing In The Dark

New York: Queen - We Are The Champions (dj elf asked a fan to pick between this one and David Bowie - Heroes)

- EU & UK LEG - Hamburg: Joy Division - Love Will Tear Us Apart

Copenhagen: Queen & David Bowie - Under Pressure

Oslo: Green Day - Wake Me Up When September Ends

Stockholm: The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army

Helsinki: Elvis Presley - Always On My Mind

Tallinn: Smash Mouth - All Star

Riga: AC/DC - Thunderstruck

Kaunas: Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling in Love

Krakow: Iggy Pop - Lust For Life

Łódź: Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop

Vienna: Oasis - Supersonic

Ljubljana: The Killers - Smile Like You Mean It

Budapest: Bloc Party - Helicopter

Bucharest: Foo Fighters - My Hero

Sofia: Rage Against The Machine - Bombtrack

Bilbao: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Lisbon: White Lies - Farewell to the Fairground

Madrid: Editors - Munich

Barcelona: At the Drive-In - One Armed Scissor

Turin: Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way

Bologna: Bloc Party - Helicopter

Luxembourg: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Antwerp: Queens Of The Stone Age - My God Is The Sun

Paris: Biffy Clyro - Bubbles

Amsterdam: Blur - Song 2

Cologne: The Libertines - Can't Stand Me Now

Prague: Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

Berlin: The Cure - Friday I'm in Love

Munich: Fatboy Slim - Praise You

Zurich: The Strokes - Last Nite

Dublin: Inhaler - These Are The Days

Sheffield: The Killers - Mr. Brightside

Manchester: The Smiths - This Charming Man

Glasgow: The Snuts - Gloria

Brighton: Ramones - I Wanna Be Sedated

Cardiff: T. Rex - 20th Century Boy

London: The Libertines - Can't Stand Me Now

Birmingham: Boyz II Men - End Of The Road

- ASIA & AUS LEG - Jakarta: Iggy Pop - Lust For Life

Melbourne: Jet - Are You Gonna Be My Girl

Brisbane: The Temper Trap - Fader

Sydney: Oasis - Rock 'N' Roll Star

- LATAM LEG - Panama: Hard-Fi - Living for the Weekend

San Juan: Pixies - Where Is My Mind

Rio de Janeiro: Nirvana - Heart-Shaped Box

Like last time the plan is to keep editing this post as tour goes on - 2022 LTWT here

Apple music playlist here

[kombuuuu]

yo could you do some domestic spot fluff???? asking for a friend (lie)

Spotty dog?

Spot x Gen!Reader

“This feels demeaning.” “It’s not! Look he’s cute!”

hes so adorable h my god. 101 dalmatian coded fr

June 28th — Your lovers birthday, and two days away. You woke this morning with a determination you knew both you and him held. To out-do your your last gift. Last Christmas, you had thought you'd won. Showing up to your shared home with a pair of matching shirts — reading "I ♡ My Boyfriend" and one equally matching for him.

Along with a multitude of other small things — all sentimental to your relationship. Like the mug that said "No.1 Bad Guy." or a card detailing how he would never just be the "Villain of the week."

But when he'd pulled out matching crocs, with Jibbitz of a goofy looking Dalmatian for him and a cute Bunny for you?

You had resigned as Loser for the months to come. Not without a cheering victory from your Spotty lover. Now though? A thought had been brewing for months— one that would never make you loser of the gifts ever again. What could possibly out-do a man willing to wear crocs branded with a staple of you on them? And a goofy looking bucket hat with your silly matching shirts?

A dog.

Something he's wanted for a while now, something to take care of. He'd lost everything, his friends, his family. With that much gone, he'd clung to you like a lost child. Mourning the losses he'd faced while cherishing his moments with you — feeling a constant sense of peril when faced with the fact that he *could just lose you too. He wouldn't, though. You would never do that to him. You loved him too dearly to cause him that pain.

—

You watched him slip on a blue coat over his "totally regular civilian" clothes. The complaint leaving his mouth going on deaf ears. He slipped on his left shoe, jumping a bit and tripping over himself before steadying himself on a coffee table. "Do we really have to go out today?—" His face-spot downturned, like a sad puppy.

",—Can't we just sit in and cuddle? We could watch Mean Girls and i'll make the hot chocolate you really like!" "Baby." He whined, Spot rolling into a displeased frown. "Where are we even—" "—Ask one more time." He snorted, pulling his last shoe on and tucking in the laces, then going up to you and leaning down to give your forehead a kiss. "Ready?"

He right about swooned at your domestic tone, admiring the way the softened gold lights highlighted your features. You were everything to him, and just the knowledge you loved him back had him tripping over himself. Falling through spots at the sight of you. "Yeah."

—

Jonn swayed as the bus came to a stop, avidly ignoring the curious glances given by other patrons, and focusing more on holding onto you.

"I'm gonna fall over!" "Maybe if you held the bar, and not me." He looked up at you from his waist bent position, arms wrapped securely around your abdomen, clinging onto you like you were the only person there.

"I don't need another lover baby, you're right here." "It's a pole, John." "And I am a faithful man." You giggled lightly at him and wrapped your free arm around him tighter.

—

"Just step off." "It's high!" John stuttered out his reply, dipping his foot down like he was testing pool water. 'I'll just—" He turned around, opening a spot and crawling through it and popping up again next to you. The bus driver gawked at you, paler than the villain walking Brighton's street.

You mouthed a 'sorry' to the poor lady, and grabbed your boyfriends hand, dragging him towards the street of your subject.

"You gonna tell me where we're going yet?" He trailed behind you, getting pulled by his left hand, and tripping over his own feet. Moving in that clumsy kind of dorkiness. 'Nuh uh."

His spot slanted at you, deadpanning. "You're being mysterious— I don't like it."

You side-eyed him, grinning in a glare. "I think it's part of the charm." He dragged his spindly legs farther forward, stepping in front of you and gathering your joined hand against his chest. He walked backwards with you, and his spot widened again. You smiled up at him, continuing on with walking, and waited for him to complain once more.

You hadn't have to wait long. "Are you sure you can't—" "We're here." He stopped walking when you did, spot slanting when he surveyed the shops and stalls around him, trying to read the signs. "a café date?—," He chuckled lightly, chest heaving lightly "'—You know you could have—"

"Not there, baby." You flexed your hands into his, he let one of his drop, and linked your fingers with his— squeezing your palm in interest.

You turned towards the animal rescue centre, giving your lover a mischievous grin and stepped beside him to open the door.

—

The spotted dalmatian looked up at you, glossy and doe eyed.

You cooed at it through the glass, the puppy wagging it's tail at the high pitched voice you were giving him.

"How come you never talk to me like that?" Your boyfriend had his hands on your shoulders, leaning on your crouched form and looking down at the small dog below him.

"Do you want me to?" You watched his reflection through the glass as he contemplated, spot shifting forms until it settled on a stretched thin line. "No." You snorted and continued sweet talking the puppy.

The dog-keeper smiled happily at the interaction between you and the small puppy.

"Would you like to take him outside?"

You turned your head towards her and nodded your head, sounding a pretty please — you put your hands on your knees and pushed up, standing straight again.

You turned to your lover, standing up on your toes, you smoothed your hands over his cheeks and giving his nose a little kiss.

"This feels demeaning." He pouted at you, hands grabbing at your coat.

You giggled lightly, resting the side of your face on his chest.

"It's not!," you gestured to the adorable puppy ",Look he's cute!"

John considered the tiny dog, slacking a bit under you, and conceding. "Yeah, yeah— whatever." You jumped up and gave his jaw a quick peck. "Exactly!"

You ran towards the back door, leading to the puppy playground.

Your lover called out to you— "I better still be your favourite Spot!"

"My number one, baby!" You called back.

He huffed despite his spot melting into a heart.

—

Two days later, when he woke up to a plethora of silly gifts, topped with adoption papers and a pink bow — He begrudgingly gave away his title.

—

+ bonus!!!

"You're just the most handsome spotty boy, aren't 'ya!" A squealing voice followed by a small 'ruff' caught your attention. You closed the door softly, and sneakily dropped your keys in the bowl, and snuck into your living room.

The sight of your loving husband cradling the puppy to his chest as he danced to an unheard tune greeted you. You smiled to yourself, biting your finger and watching him for a moment.

He spun slowly, and when his sight landed on you, he froze. He quickly, albeit gently, placed the small thing back onto the couch. The puppy rolling over and smiling up at you.

John cleared his throat, a closed fist to his throat, and after putting his hands on his hips to "act cool", he spoke.

"His name is The Dot."

You giggled behind your hand, going up and kissing his cheek, not before you pet Dot in passing. "Next time we're adopting a kid."

His spot widened and slid into a heart, blush coating his cheeks.

"And you're not naming them."

He laughed.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Due to all the activity, let’s recap . 1. We get the wonderful tour of L and N 2. 🦀 just so happens to surprise L at the New York premiere. Not one picture gets taken no one notices that she even there. 3. Tour happens we get all these wonderful moments. No sign of 🦀 in so many many places just our L and N. No pictures no DM articles no nothing. NOT even when round one of season 3 of Bridgerton drops do we get any type of gossip about either L or N. 4. Now London happens final premiere.. Premier was great lots of wonderful moments. Part two drops of the the biggest days of L and N careers this is viewed around the world 5. After party happens now we see L and 🦀. Time for celebrations of so many months of hard labor. Yet here come that paps taking pictures we see a smiling 🦀 and an angry L. Now hands get attempted to get held but L acting like a skeleton. DM sends the paps to L and 🦀 “someone” told them they should be watched. 6. DM post a story talking about alleged girlfriend of L. Full naming her and adds her IG handle. 7. fashion week happens we know L arrived alone.. went with Corey to an event alone. Yet here comes 🦀 out of no where. Gets pictures taken again and dropped to fans this time. 8. L goes to Paris and New York 🦀less all by his lonesome. 9. GQ event happens… we see more 🦀 and friends. 10. N is all of a sudden being linked to J cuz she went out. No proof (no kissing, no hugging) just a couple bars. Photographer from DM doesn’t even know who she is (by DM own words)

11. L goes to wedding and bar no 🦀 in sight. We all looked hard. 12. Hater page pops out of no where drops old news as new. Hater page states same person who gave the info on L HBS gave info on N dating L.. but instead of posting hater page defends N. 13. Russian x posted L set up N with DM. Stating they have receipts yet as soon as they go to post receipts site disappears. 14. L and 🦀 in DM again this time stating they were in Brighton with friends. Yet no proof. Same day as N and J at a bar with a friend gets dropped. Of course they don’t get the video of all the friends just N and J again trying to spin the whole dating crap. 15. DM drops a weird podcast stating she got the hint these people should be watched and she sent the pap to London to photograph L and 🦀. Claims 🦀 would never know how to do that yet mentions her name a thousand times. 16. Weird mass cleanup of likes and comments.

that’s sums up I’m sure I missed stuff seems like an attack to me. Poor L

The 🦀 is 🐟y

[thegoldenretrieverandthegaynerd]

It has been one whole year since season 2 came out! The joy of that day! And today to celebrate we get another clip from heartstopper’s pride pop ups! This time in Brighton from 12pm today and 1pm tomorrow. Head down if you can! 🍂🍂

[grelleswife]

Gripping this promotional illustration for the 2020 Black Label Funtom Hotel pop-up store with both hands as I delude myself into thinking it’s foreshadowing for my wife’s return in the Brighton arc:

Grelle at the hotel, Grelle at the hotel, GRELLE AT THE HOTEL—

[zeta-in-de-walls]

TommyInnit Times article

Hey, so Tommy apparently did an Interview for the Times. I’m copy and pasting the whole Times article for those who can’t access it. It’s a nice read. Enjoy!

If you’ve never heard of Tom Simons — aka TommyInnit — your children most definitely have. The 18-year-old gamer from Nottingham is one of the world’s most successful online streamers, with 40 million followers across all social platforms hanging on his every (loud) word and anarchic in-joke. You know, the kind of shouty Minecraft-related banter that tweens and teens find hilarious but leaves their parents baffled.

There’s no doubt he’s a master of his craft, with Guinness world records for most viewers of a Minecraft livestream on Twitch, the gamers’ platform, and most followed Minecraft channel. His net worth is estimated to be $10 million. His live show in July at the Brighton Dome sold out within 24 hours and he had a book published this week. Not many gamers make that crossover, or have their first interview in The Times come to that.

Simons must be one of the richest self-made 18-year-olds in the country and has a running joke with his subscribers that he’s a billionaire. (It’s presumably a joke, but he won’t be drawn.) “It’s cool I’m set up for life, but it doesn’t feel relevant to who I am. I don’t spend very much,” he says. “It hasn’t changed how pissed off I was when they upped the cost of the bus fare by 10p to £1.30.” He seems to mean it. This summer he visited fellow YouTube millionaires in their mansions and on private jets in LA, but he’s content living in the two-bedroom flat in Brighton he bought from his landlord, and his mum still orders him a Tesco shop occasionally.

He’s definitely got one over on the kids at his secondary school in Nottingham who made fun of him after they discovered Channelnutpig, the first gaming channel he set up on YouTube aged 11. He was mortified and took it down immediately. “You want to fit in and make friends, and in year 7 you’re beginning to understand that girls exist,” he says. “So it wasn’t that cool shouting, ‘Hello everyone, it’s me, Tom!’ on my channel every week and have people play that back in front of you.”

Two years later he migrated to Twitch, again streaming Minecraft videos and filming banter with his online friends, and at 14 began the TommyInnit YouTube channel that now has 11.8 million subscribers. This time he kept it secret. “Every time we’d be in a science lesson and they’d show an educational video my eyes would be glued to the ‘recommended’ on YouTube in case I popped up and people found out. I kept that secret for so long. I had 100,000 subscribers when people started finding out. “When I got to 100,000 there was this weird new respect everyone had for me. I’d walk through the hallway and they would still glare at me, but no one would shove me. It was like I had a force field around me. It was so strange. I remember a week before someone getting me in a headlock and shoving me around. I thought, ‘Wow, I’ve levelled up!’ ”

Was he bullied at school? He pauses. “Just normal arseholes, not anything more than anyone else. I was quite quiet. I just teetered on the edge of being funny enough that people wouldn’t beat me up. If someone was shoving me around I’d just make jokes and they’d leave me alone. But also funny enough that no one thought I was cool. At all. Which is the exact place I’m in now really.”

Simons is more quiet, thoughtful and endearing in person than he is on his channels or in the book, a collection of silly quotes and zany ramblings. He’s a self-confessed nerd (“My dad and I are massive nerds”) and says that his audience are mostly “the people I would hang out with at school, who were awkward like me”. He adds, “I’m quite anxious in real life, but I’ve always been very social on the internet. If you message someone and they ignore you, who cares? It’s not real life.”

He believes that most of his fans are aged between 14 and 20, but he knows that a lot of younger kids tune in for the Minecraft banter (or possibly the swearing). A year ago he started a YouTube channel under his own name to make real-life videos that now has 5.6 million followers. It’s free to subscribe — his earnings come from the advertising. He recently spent a month in New York vlogging his daily antics, such as I’m literally Spider-Man, in which he dressed up as the superhero, and Making 100 Friends in 1 Day.

Why does he think he’s so successful when there are others creating content along the same lines? He’s perceptive in his answer. “I think it’s the loud funniness — me having fun with my friends. But there’s also this element of warmness. It’s welcoming and safe,” he says. “It’s never toxic or preying on other people. Nothing is at the expense of anyone else. It’s better for the world not to say the easy, rude joke or the put-downs. There’s so much of that on YouTube.”

He says that his parents have always been supportive. His dad, Iain, was in the gaming industry, owning an arcade in Nottingham before setting up the GameCity festival. He now works with his son.

Simons’s mum, Sarah, is an actor-turned-English teacher for adults with disabilities who set up the further education group, UKFEchat on Twitter. “She was on Twitter long before I was,” he says. “Now she has a cool internet personality advising people how to keep safe online.”

She was less cool, he admits, when his GCSEs were approaching in 2020. “She sat me down and said, ‘Right, you have 100,000 subscribers and that’s really good, but you need to take school seriously. I know you’re not revising and your grades are dropping.’ She was right — I was getting grade 3s in science. Then that week we went into a global pandemic and I didn’t do a minute of revision as the exams were cancelled.” He ended up with a very respectable collection of GCSEs, including a 9 (the top grade) in English language. “It was the perfect amount of ‘mum points’ I needed to spend the [lockdowns] in my bedroom making videos.”

He then went to college to study for a BTEC in film and TV. By now he was vlogging and would spend time out filming. “Near the start of the second year I remember saying to my tutor, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t make it in very much.’ He said, ‘Listen, I shouldn’t say this, but we’re teaching you the thing you’re already doing so if I were you I would drop out.’ So I did. I started college with a million [subscribers] and ended it with ten million.”

When his schoolfriends were studying for their A-levels this summer, Simons already had his own flat in Brighton, renting then buying it. However, he says: “A lot of people want to live a lavish life and I just don’t. Mum still orders me a Tesco shop occasionally and will say, ‘I knew you needed groceries.’ I’ll say, ‘How on earth did you know that from Nottingham?’ ”

He says that his parents were no pushovers when he was younger and his dad refused to let him play Grand Theft Auto 5, even though his friends were allowed. “He said: ‘It’s got strippers in; you murder in that game. You’re 12, you can’t look at that, I’m sorry.’ They were really on top of it because they understood [gaming] and they communicated with me about it. When it turned into a career, they said, ‘OK, it’s important. We get it.’ But they’d still make sure I didn’t stay in my room all day. I’d still have to walk the dogs and [we’d] have dinner as a family.”

Simons doesn’t know how his career will unfold. He’s also getting used to being recognised. “Walking through Brighton I can hear my name being whispered all around me. It was a big adjustment. I became a bit scared of people after being inside for a year [during the pandemic]. I forgot how big the world was beyond my screen, but I’m loving it now.”

TommyInnit Says . . . The Quote Book by Tom Simons, curated and edited by Wilbur Soot, is published by Quercus, £14.99

[emomeishibot]

A wip for the Cielcest May 20th collab project on Weibo🤗 initiated by my dedicated friend 琳, @DLynn1105 on X

I mixed the Funtom hotel pop up shop 2020 poster outfit with Enstars Ringing Evil Phone mv set—that mv is so kuro aesthetic (the devil contract part) coded and I’ve been into enstar since they did the Midnight Butlers mv back in the days. Both mv felt like they are paying homage to kuro since basically when it comes to anime butlers and devils nowadays it’s so hard to not to refer to kuro😂. this time I get to make something for both fandoms that I’ve enjoyed for years! Before the Brighton hotel reveal I’ll just indulge myself with the idea of having the twins meet in the Evil Num+ club: OCiel the night butler suggests RCiel that he may ring for their signature service if he wish to🫢(yeah my idea mainly came from the mv.

Check out the mv if you enjoy anime boy idols💕

[killervelveteenrabbit]

"The Ghost and Molly McGee", Ten Years After

Molly’s ongoing work to improve the economic, cultural, and mental well-being of Brighton has earned her the love and respect of everyone in town, a few write-ups in statewide and national publications… and a full scholarship to the University of Iowa’s civil and environmental engineering program. She’s returned to Brighton, working for City Hall as assistant city planner (with her dad as her boss, which isn’t awkward at all, really) while earning her master’s online.

Molly wasn’t alone while she attended UI—Libby was her dormmate all four years that she was there. She earned a scholarship of her own, majoring in English. She also returned to Brighton after graduating, becoming a part-time reporter for the town newspaper while helping run her mother’s bookstore. All of this is in addition to her literary career. Matias, her father, took a second look at the fantasy novel she wrote and realized it was publication-worthy. It wasn’t a best seller, but the royalties from this and two other books Libby has written since let her live comfortably and pursue her passions in life. Her latest project is a series of books helping small children understand and live with the effects of divorce.

Molly and Ollie hit a rough patch after an admittedly stupid argument during their senior year of high school, and their two-month breakup proved just as hard on their respective families as it was on each other. They got back together just in time for graduation from Brighton High, only to part ways as Molly went to UI and Oliver headed for Iowa State. But they carried out a successful medium-distance relationship (it was only a two-hour drive between the two campuses).

Ollie has parlayed his experience as a researcher for his parents’ MeTube videos into a career as a freelance researcher for an assortment of psychological and medical foundations. While he travels all over the Midwest and occasionally beyond, he’s based out of Brighton… specifically, the rental house he shares with Molly. Ollie and Molly are practically married already, but their parents are eager for them to make it official. The couple are waiting a while to save enough money to stage the dream wedding and after-party they always wanted without breaking the bank.

Several years ago, an ill-advised deal involving a shipment of counterfeit designer smartwatches and the Uzbek mafia landed Darryl in hotter water than usual. He’s lucky all he got away with was lockdown in juvie until his 21st birthday… which got commuted to two hundred hours of community service and time served due to an unexpected (and slightly suspicious) governor’s pardon. At any rate, the whole debacle soured Darryl on similar schemes. He’s kept his nose clean since then, barring a few school detentions. He takes business courses at a local community college with plans to transfer to a four-year institution this fall. His current side hustle involves promotions and advertising for assorted boutiques and under-21 nightclubs that have popped up in Brighton's revitalized downtown.

June lives away from home, majoring at Drake University. But she remains Darryl’s best friend, the only person outside his family who’s consistently been there for him after his schemes blew up in his face—figuratively and almost literally; she was the one who detected that leak in the ammonium nitrate storage tank Darryl stashed out near the water tower. They even dated for a while before mutually acknowledging the situation was “weird” and deciding they were better off as friends. On a related note, maybe Esther shouldn’t have paid out all that money to have her wedding dress remade.

Pete and Sharon are still happily married. Pete takes great pride in the improvements he’s helped make for his adopted hometown of Brighton, and he’s especially flattered that his daughter is following in his footsteps. The town’s successes have become Pete’s successes—in the last ten years, he’s fixed up the family home and bought his first non-used car. He’s even dusted off his vinyl for a few gigs at some of the new clubs downtown. Meanwhile, Sharon offers painting classes at the local community center and retirement home. These days, she primarily uses her Gig Pig account to set up painting parties in and around town, sometimes as far out as Perfektborg.

The Chens’ enlightenment about the true nature of ghosts has led them to step away from their “Ghost Chaser Chens” MeTube channel. Ruben has had far more luck marketing his brand of small-batch root beer, now available in grocery and convenience stores all over the state. Recently, Esther inspired Ruben to introduce a “spiked” version flavored with Habanero peppers. Reception has been mixed.

Grandma Nin and her friend Patty are the self-described “Bad Girls of Brighton Hills”, but their adventures have proven more constructive than mischievous. They’ve organized concerts at the bandshell, joined the Senior Construction Crew on home-repair projects for needy families, and hosted a weekly potluck dinner/board game session in the home’s cafeteria. These dinners always feature Patty’s homemade gumbo—Nin helped her fine-tune the recipe so now it’s actually edible.

The McGees look forward to David and Emmie’s annual visits, a chance to catch up with family and connect with their heritage. The Thai lessons Molly took on Triolingo have helped her feel slightly more at ease when the Suksais come to call. Also, Sharon has tried practicing some Thai dishes, with Pete’s assistance and (critically) while Nin isn’t in the vicinity.

A year after Davenport’s closed its doors, the family rolled the dice and started a supermarket specializing in organic groceries, local produce, and hard-to-find foreign brands… items Bizmart couldn’t or wouldn’t accommodate. The gamble paid off, and Davenport's Turnip Patch sells and ships to customers across the region—yes, even to Perfektborg. (Sharon and Nin are frequent visitors since they carry Thai specialties like jackfruit, pandan extract, and even durian.) Andrea maintains the store’s computer systems but pointedly avoids appearing in advertising. She’s back on her socials, but not as an influencer. Her “Girl Code” series on MeTube provides tips and tricks for entry-level coding enthusiasts. The videos feature occasional cameos by her girlfriend Alina, who’s also taken an interest in the subject.

Three months after Scratch cast off his Chairman’s robes, they settled upon the recently departed spirit of a retired manager of an IRS branch office. Since then, the Ghost Council has basked in bureaucratic bliss, leaving the denizens of Ghost World alone and happy. Not long after Todd left, Molly conducted a séance and told Geoff what happened to Scratch. He realizes it will be a while before he sees his friend again, but at least he has Jeff to keep him company.

Todd and Adia have photographed wild horse herds in Montana, kayaked off the Antarctic Peninsula, biked through Croatia, snorkeled with manta rays in Hawaii, and helped refurbish a centuries-old mosque in Brunei… and that’s just in the last year! Their adventures included a meditation retreat in India where Todd astrally projected his spirit out of his body for a few minutes. He “came back” talking about a young lady back in Brighton who showed him how to live even though he was already “dead”. On their next swing back to the United States, Molly is the first person they plan to visit.

[waddei]

[latenight phonecalls]

an arginnit au by ME!!! :333

after odd calls from 'Wilbur' become part of his daily routine tommy begins to notice a decline in his Energy and memory, chalking it up to an illness he hadn't heard off he tries to go on with his day to day battling the exhaustion that washed over him for seemingly no reason.

when bodies start being found In his area the near supernatural lack of clues surrounding the murders has the city throwing into a paranoid state.still,he doesn't turn on the tv to find out more, the news making his stomach twist. even after and he finds himself waking up with dirt on his shoes he doesnt think much of it

______

meanwhile Wilbur realizes that there might be more to tommys break than what he's advertising

TLDR: tommys been getting strange calls lately and has been struggling to remember why he seems to wake up every day super tired. meanwhile mysterious murders start to pop up all round Brighton.

[louisupdates]

The Habit He Can’t Break, 2/4

IQ 123 | Gordon Masson | 9.11.2023

“In Santiago, for instance, we’d sold out two full arenas of 13,000 cap, but then the government declared that for mass gatherings the number needed to be limited to 10,000 people.”

Rather than let fans down, Move added a third day, which again ended up selling out. “I remember being on a night plane from Miami, while Matt Vines was flying in from Dallas, and we were both using the aircraft wi-fi to negotiate via text for that third show. It was an interesting way to confirm putting the third date on sale, just three days before the actual show!”

He adds, “We’re taking a big bet on this tour when it comes to the number of cities and the capacities of the venues, but we’re hoping for the best, and we’ve gone out strong. We feel that the artist is in a good moment and that the latest album has just created more interest, so we’re looking forward to when he arrives in May.”

Further north, Ocesa will promote three dates in Mexico, including a stadium show at the F1 circuit, Autódromo Hermanos, Rodríguez, deepening Tomlinson’s footprint in that crucial North American market.

Meanwhile, in Tomlinson’s homeland, Jack Dowling at SJM is promoting seven UK dates in November at arenas in Sheffield, Manchester, Glasgow, Brighton, Cardiff, London, and Birmingham, which will round out the European leg of the tour.

“SJM has done every show Louis has been involved with, including all the One Direction arena and stadium shows” notes Dowling, adding that on the first tour, the London show was originally penciled in as a Roundhouse, then two Roundhouse shows, before finally being upgraded to Wembley Arena. 

“This time, The O2 arena show in London will be sold out, while all the others have passed the expectations of where we wanted to be on this tour. In fact, when the UK dates were announced, it ranked as the fourth most engaged tour on social media in SJM’s history – his fans are just nuts.”

But Dowling also reports that the fanbase for Tomlinson is expanding. “The demographics are pulling not just from pop, but also from indie rock now.”

Dowling adds, “Louis really looks after his fans. On the last tour, they did a deal with Greggs to give free food to the people waiting in line, as some of them camped out for days in advance.”

Out of My System

Ensuring his fans are looked after properly is the number one priority in Tomlinson’s live career.

Noting that Tomlinson’s audience comprises mainly young women and girls, Rowland reveals that, at the artist’s insistence, a safety team has been added to the tour to ensure everyone that attends his shows is looked after. “They manage all the safety within the shows for the fans,” she explains. “They came in for the Wembley show last year and have been with us ever since - they’ve been beneficial to the running of the tour. 

“When he played in South America, some of his fans were camping outside for a month. So we have a responsibility to look after them. Coming to a show should be a safe place, it’s where they find joy, and we have a responsibility to protect that.”

Manager Vines comments, “One issue that we came up against almost all last year was crushing and fans passing out. We adopted a system where we could communicate with fans, who could hold up a mobile phone with a flashing red-and-white sign if they were in trouble but then we’d see them all popping up.

“I don’t know whether some of that was a hangover of the pandemic where fans just weren’t used to being in venues. But we experienced a number of situations where hydration and temperatures in venues became an issue. I know Billie Eilish went through similar issues.”

With Tomlinson determined to meet a duty of care toward his fans, Vines says that the team now sends a “considerable advance package” to promoters ahead of their tour dates. “Our safety team goes into venues in the morning, and basically ensures that a number of different things are in place – making sure that water is given to the fans, where the water comes from, and at what points in the show it happens.”

And on the crushing phenomena, he reports, “We’ve worked out how many fans it’s safe to have without a secondary barrier. So we instruct promoters to have certain barriers in place to relieve the pressure and avoid crushing.”

He adds, “I get detailed incident reports after each show, which lets myself and my management team know exactly what happened, and so far on this tour, we haven’t had any issues with crushing or hydration, which is fantastic.”

Production manager Craig Sherwood is impressed by the way the tour has pivoted to protect the ‘Louies.’ “The welfare officers are vital for the young girls were aged from, I guess, 14 upwards. They can get dehydrated and malnourished pretty quickly if they are camping out for days, so it’s important that we look out for their well-being,” says Sherwood. 

Citing the extremes that the Louies will put themselves through in an effort to secure themselves prime positions at the front of the stage, Sherwood recalls, “The first show on our US tour was in February, and it was freezing, but we found out that girls had been camping out on the pavement for five days. It’s crazy, as we know these young girls are coming from all over the world to see Louis.”

However, Tomlinson’s connection with those fans is evident in the level of merchandise sales at each show. “It’s a huge part of our business, says Vines. “In America, we averaged about $36 a head, and it’s not much shy of that in Europe – we set a few national records in terms of spend per head. But we spend a lot of time on merch plans, and we do venue-specific drops and give it a lot of care and attention, as it’s a really important element of Louis’ business.”

1/4, 3/4, 4/4

[blue-bujo]

Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Three

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter Three: Dual-Purpose Distraction

(3.1k words)

Summary: After a loss, Roy takes the team on a night out to distract them from said loss. He may or may not have ulterior motives.

Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), discussion of mental health

Brighton had not gone well. Roy had watched in disbelief as Montlaur and then Zoreaux had both been injured and subbed out, and the team had lost the match. His boys were dejected as they piled onto the coach for the drive home.

Jamie had tried to cheer everybody up by turning on the music loaded to his phone and bravely shuffling it, and Beard broke out his David Bowie impression, which got a few laughs. However, most of the men sat quiet and discouraged in their seats. Roy was fuming, although the casual observer would note that his lips were moving without him realizing when he recognized a song. He could feel the low morale laying heavy over the bus and its passengers.

Bravely, Higgins got up to sit next to him when they were about halfway back to Richmond. Roy growled at him, but the older man ignored it. They sat in silence until Roy couldn’t take it anymore.

“The fuck do you want?”

“You looked like you used to when Ted was around and you were too stubborn to ask him about something that was bothering you,” said Higgins. “I’m a sorry substitute for Ted, but I’ll listen if you like. Our own little meeting of the Diamond Dogs.”

“Did I really have all that shit written on my face?” He wouldn’t admit it, but Roy was a little impressed with Higgins. The man was deceptively wise.

“Not all of it, but I know what it is to miss a close friend.”

“I do miss him,” Roy conceded. “He always knew how to make them see a little hope. He was better at this manager shit.”

“If you want to have the Lasso effect, you just need to try thinking like Ted. He would want to do something to distract them from the loss today and get them out of their heads. A movie night or a meal out. Anything, really.”

“Hmm… They’re good ideas, to be fair, but they feel too normal. We always do that,” pondered Roy. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, thinking, wracking his brain for something. His normal activities were reading, and cooking, and other introverted things. What he did with Phoebe and his sister Sofia were more inclusive.

Roy stood, squeezed past Higgins, and made his way up to the front of the bus. Jamie and Beard sat down, pausing their musical act, and watched him apprehensively. He walked slowly up the aisle – having had a serious knee injury made a person keen to avoid another one, which would be inflicted by walking on a moving bus. When he got to the front row, he leaned over the driver’s shoulder.

“I’m going to reroute us,” he said bluntly. “How do I change the satnav?”

The driver tapped a screen and a keyboard popped up. After a quick google, the manager tapped in an address, and the new route started. Straightening, Roy turned around and looked around the bus. As all eyes were already on him, he didn’t shout.

“All right, listen up. We’re all in a shitty mood because of the loss. Ted would’ve had something inspirational to say, but we all know I’m not Ted. All I know how to do is distract us until we forget about it.” He nodded at Higgins in silent acknowledgement of their conversation before continuing. “So that’s what we’re going to do, going to get ourselves fucking distracted for the night. I hope you don’t have any other plans.”

“Where are we going, Coach?” asked Bumbercatch.

“Wouldn’t you like to fucking know.” Roy sat down next to Jamie in the second row and crossed his arms. He was pleased with his choice; he didn’t think his team would guess where they were headed or what they were going to do. He was surprised he’d picked it, himself. It wasn’t what he expected from himself; he wasn’t typically that forward.

He massaged one hand with the other, passing the pads of his fingers over his knuckles, where just so recently... No. That wasn’t why he’d fucking made this choice!

Beside Roy, Jamie observed the anxious, wistful hand movements, and the address in the satnav, which he recognized. He fixed his mentor in his most suggestive side-eye, head tilted down and eyebrows quirked, until Roy noticed.

Just Roy’s heart nearly stopped. The prick had figured him out. Fuck.

You were at the counter, trying to read an online article. You’d consistently gotten through the first paragraph about six times today, before an interruption had presented itself. It had been an oddly busy day, which you attributed to your own terrible luck, as there was absolutely no reason for half of the house to be full on a weekday afternoon. You saw movement in the parking lot from the corner of your eye, but chose to ignore it and hope it went somewhere else. You really wanted to finish the article sometime this millennium, and tried to power your way into the second paragraph.

You weren’t that lucky. The movement in the parking lot was that of a bus unloading an army of footballers. They were milling around tie dye guy, who you now knew was Roy Kent, manager of AFC Richmond.

With a frustrated sigh, you closed the tab with the online article; there was no way you were reading it with all these athletes coming inside. Because these guys were proper athletes, and in your experience, those were the types that got the loudest when they realized their sporting skills didn’t translate to bowling. Your hair went up, and you braced once again for the difficulty of a large group. At least they all had socks, since they had their uniforms on; you didn’t think there’d be enough money in the register to make change for twenty-something uses of the supply vending machine.

A bespectacled man and a young man carrying a bunch of water bottles came up to your counter ahead of the herd.

“I’m so sorry, but do you have enough lanes to accommodate a football club?” Glasses guy was familiar; he bowled a weeknight league with his wife, and you were pretty sure he had a locker here.

Checking your computer, you answered, “I can give you lanes 17 through 24. Will that be enough? Each lane can fit eight to ten people.”

“That’ll be plenty, thank you. I’ve seen you around, right?”

His question confirmed your theory that he was a regular. “Yeah, I’ve traded shifts for a few weeknights before. I thought I recognized you.”

“You may not want to, after this,” he apologized. “Sorry in advance.”

The first of the footballers came bounding in, either voicing their disdain or their enthusiasm for the evening’s activity. Jamie Tartt swaggered straight up to you, put his arms on the counter, and grinned.

“Heya, Splits! Do you remember meh?”

Rolling your eyes, you quipped back, “How could I forget? Was this your idea, coming back to see if I was fit enough to risk Roy Kent’s wrath?”

To his credit, Jamie had the decency to look embarrassed. “I were being a proper twat, and I apologize. I’m trying to be better. But no, it weren’t my idea. It was all Coach.”

You looked up, past Jamie, to where the last few men were getting off of the Richmond bus, Roy among them. It had been his idea? Maybe Phoebe’s comment had had some truth to it. He was glancing inside hesitantly, and although you knew that he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows, you felt your ears warm ever so slightly. The thought that anybody could find you fit in any way felt foreign.

The clearing of a throat brought you back to reality. The young man with the water bottles had a sheet of paper in his hand that he was extending towards you.

“This is everybody’s boot sizes,” he was saying. “Hopefully that makes it easier.”

“It will, thank you so much.” You turned to the team now standing in front of you and raised your voice a bit to address them all. “You guys will be on lanes 17 through 24. Give me a minute to get all of these shoes ready and go find yourselves some balls.” There were more than a few snickers at the balls comment, which you fully knew you’d walked into, but you charged bravely on. “Once you’ve done that, come back here.”

All but Jamie dispersed to find a ball that fit; he waited at the counter. You couldn’t figure out why, until you saw Roy Kent finally enter your bowling alley. He didn’t seem pleased to find him standing there expectantly.

“What the fuck do you want now? Go and look around like everybody else! Quit waiting for me!”

He was in a mood. They must have lost the game they were obviously returning from. Either bravely or stupidly, Jamie ignored his coach’s orders and adopted an innocent expression.

“Splits is here.”

“I can see that. Now piss off.”

As he had at Phoebe’s party, Jamie gave you a wink before sauntering away. Which left you and Roy Kent staring at each other. You couldn’t tell what the coach was thinking – he kept his face impressively blank – but your mind shot back to your previous encounter, where you’d startled him, then maybe insulted him by not recognizing him, then accidentally touched his hand. You didn’t know how to react.

He made the choice easy for you and nodded curtly. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

You noticed that he had stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I have your shoes.”

“How the fuck do you remember my shoe size?”

You waved the sheet of paper. “The younger guy gave me a list. I’m guessing he’s the kit man?”

A grunt. It could be interpreted as a yes. Nothing else from Coach Kent. You grabbed a pair of rental shoes and held it out to him. “Here.”

As Roy Kent came forward and you reached out, your hands touched – again – and this was more contact than the mere finger brush last time. He froze, then quickly took the shoes and scurried off.

Talk about awkward! You banged your head softly against the counter and groaned. What were the odds of that happening twice?

Roy groaned as he retreated from the front desk. What were the odds that the woman would think that could happen twice? And what had possessed him to surge forward to grab the shoes? Was he that fucking touch-starved, that he needed to manufacture physical contact with fucking strangers? He flung himself onto a couch with Higgins, Beard, and Nate and set about angrily removing his trainers and putting on the bowling shoes. The other three men looked at each other behind his back and shrugged their shoulders. Nobody could decide whether it was better to engage, or just to let him stew until he was ready to come out with it.

Roy was done tying the laces and stood up to stare at them all. Only Nate was brave enough to break the silence.

“All right there, Roy?” he asked.

“Great,” Roy retorted. “Never been better.”

“You ready to tell us what’s going on with you?” questioned Beard. He leaned back, anticipating his fellow coach to blow. The old Roy would have, but Just Roy flared his nostrils, took a deep breath, and then looked at Beard, Nate, and Higgins.

“Like I told the team,” he ground out, “it’s my shit. None of your fucking business.”

“All right. But when you’re actually ready to talk, let us know.”

Rather than stay and face them, Roy left. He told himself it was so he could find a bowling ball, but he knew that he was running away. He didn’t know how he felt yet about being interested in someone again. It always made him feel incredibly vulnerable. The world expected moody, mysterious Roy Kent. The real Roy was lonely and just wanted connection with another human being who wasn’t interested in him being a footballer – no, a manager. Not a footballer anymore.

He surveyed the bowling alley. Everyone was having a decent time. It seemed a happy enough place, with its garish red walls and photos of local celebrities hung in frames across the soffits. Roy’s head was on a swivel looking at them all, then at his greyhounds. They were good boys, already losing the melancholy from the match. Higgins had his phone out, taking a picture of them, and they all exuded an easy comfort at spending time with each other. He kept looking around, settling his gaze just a moment too long on the girl at the counter.

Fuck, he was interested in her. She was just as awkward as he was, and she hadn’t recognized him at Phoebe’s party.

Plus, she was fit. So fucking fit.

Roy forced himself to look away. Staring creepily at a random woman was more than inappropriate; it was dangerous. If the paparazzi found out, it could cloud the whole team’s reputation. Plus, now Jamie knew. The manager couldn’t let on just how interested he was in Splits.

Hell, he didn’t even know her real name.

His team was starting to bowl. Roy could overhear snippets of their conversations as he walked by each lane. Jamie, Isaac, Dani, and Colin were horsing around, teasing Jamie about something.

“I’m just saying, a guy could do a lot worse!” Tartt was laughing. “She is fit!”

“She does have a very happy smile,” agreed Dani.

“I dunno, she’s not really my type,” Colin said, drawing a few laughs.

“That’s because nobody like her is!”

“Shut up, Isaac!”

“You walked into it!”

Suddenly, they all noticed Roy and shut their mouths. Roy glared at them.

“You talking about me?”

All four lads remained silent, although Jamie seemed to be struggling not to smile or laugh. The only response they gave was a communal shake of their heads. Roy stared them down until they started to squirm.

“We were talking about the pretty lady at the counter,” Dani eventually volunteered. “Jamie brought her up.”

Jamie snorted, like he was fighting for his life against laughter. Roy squinted at him and grunted.

“Doesn’t she look nice, Coach?”

Ooh, this was fucking evil shit. By asking, Jamie was forcing him to look over at her, knowing full well how expressive his eyebrows were. Jamie was getting annoyingly smart.

Roy turned to look at Splits, then quickly back to the boys. “She’s fine, like most people. Now get started with your game, before I decide to cancel team bonding time and make you fucking run home!”

Exchanging looks, Dani, Colin, and Isaac started bowling. Jamie grinned at his mentor one last time before joining in. They were all unfortunately on the lane next to Roy’s, so he would have to deal with them for the rest of the time they would be there.

Bowling did prove to be a good distraction. Everyone was equally terrible – except Higgins, of course – so the competition was fierce, and spares and strikes were celebrated loudly. Even Roy found himself relax slightly, and he was one of the worst bowlers of the lot. He had to put up with Jamie’s suggestive glances, and all of the Diamond Dogs on his lane, but he had people, and it was nice to feel surrounded rather than alone.

Higgins obviously won the day. With O’Brian winning among the non-bowlers after two games, AFC Richmond were ready to go home. Will began gathering everybody’s shoes. As Roy untied his, he had a stupid idea and started helping. The younger man seemed surprised, but happy for the help. Pretty soon, he and Roy both had armfuls of shoes.

“You go on ahead, Will. I’ll make sure none of these idiots have left anything behind,” Roy offered. He wanted Will done and gone from the counter when he went up. The team were already loading onto the bus, so he wouldn’t have to worry about any nosy players or obnoxious Tartts. Will was thanking Splits before he left, and a line of people was waiting between him and Roy. The manager shifted his weight to better balance the mountain of bowling shoes in his arms.

“I’m so sorry for the wait!” called Splits in the midst of charging a credit card. “You can dump those on the counter and I’ll deal with them later. You don’t have to wait.”

“I’m fine waiting. No rush.”

Truthfully, the shoes were becoming harder to balance by the second, but Roy Kent was determined. He would talk to Splits.

Finally, he was next in line. He did his best to set down the pile gracefully, but there were just too many shoes. He got them all on the counter without any falling, and that would have to do. Splits smiled, and Roy’s wait was made worth it.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll just count them real quick and make sure I have them all.”

“Take your time. I wouldn’t put it past one of these clowns to wear a pair home without fucking realizing it.”

“It happens more often than you’d think.”

There were a few beats of silence while she counted. Roy didn’t want to distract her, but he also didn’t want to lose the chance to speak with her. If only he hadn’t ignored small talk all these years!

“Your accent is different. Not in a bad way, I just can’t place it. Have you been in England long?”

“A few years,” she replied. “My dad was Army, so I grew up moving almost every year. I guess I picked up bits and pieces of whatever the local accents were.”

“That’s cool.” Roy had the distinct feeling that he was dangerously close to seeming extremely lame. “But you’ve stayed?”

“Obviously,” laughed Splits. “I like it here. I’ve never really had a group of my own, but here, it feels like I’m the closest to having it. I have all the shoes, by the way, so you’re good to go, Coach Kent.”

“Hmm. Cheers.”

Roy made no move to leave. He knew he should, but he hadn’t made any real progress here. He cleared his throat.

“Right. Well… Hope to see you around.”

“You, too!”

She seemed to react positively. Proud of himself, Roy turned and left. If he seemed less Roy-ish to anybody on the coach, none of them commented on it. Roy was in good spirits until he replayed the interaction in his mind.

He still hadn’t asked for her name.

He was a fucking idiot.

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh