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enviedear · 4 years ago

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the last great american dynasty → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n l/n buys an old home and quickly becomes the talk of the town

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.7k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

pls enjoy this fic as i write my other four... its proving most difficult to keep up with all of them but i’m trying. and of course this is based off the song the last great american dynasty by taylor :)))

also here is the house i’m going to be referencing :)

when you moved to england your first task was to do as your parents suggested, stay with your distant relative, aurora sinistra.

and you followed their advice. you tracked down her home. she just happened to be away. she had left a note saying something about how she couldn’t miss some sort of planetary alignment and would be in germany for the next week.

you had decided to explore the new territory and after an hour of walking around the town you met your soulmate, a home. and not just any home, a beautiful large piece of art made of stone.

the huge house enticed you to climb up the large hill it was sat on.

up closer you saw the vines and wisteria climbing up the exterior. then more details like the broad windows in need of cleaning, an old oak door, and doric columns that made you feel like you stumbled into a princess story.

you forgot your normal manners and had entered the home without a knock, pacing slowly through the entryway, studying the decor.

“excuse me?” a voiced called.

you had turned to find a tall brunette woman holding a toddler.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to just walk up into your home. its just, very beautiful, and i saw a for sale sign by the mailbox.” you had sputtered out.

the woman seemed even more surprised after you had spoken, “are you american?”

“yes?” you had replied, confused.

“it’s just, no one comes here and now i know why you did,” she laughs a little and adjusts the little boy on her hip. “this is a family home of a dark wizard, not many people want to visit a house that has such negative connotations. but i’d love to give you tour if you’re still interested in it?” she asks.

you smile, “i’d love to. i’m y/n by the way.”

andromeda tonks had quickly taken a liking to you and offered you the home. she explained that absolutely no one else would buy it given the fact it used to belong to her sister, who had fought alongside voldemort.

you didn’t mind the weird history that came along with the home, it was too beautiful to pass up. plus, it wasn’t unlike to you to cause a stir. you took pride in doing things out of the ordinary.

that’s how you came into the possession of the lestrange family home, or as you call it, wisteria house, after the flowers that inhabited the residence.

now, almost a year later, you’re the talk of the town. most of your pureblood neighbors found you too new. you were new money, you were apart of an american half-blood family, and you hosted parties they deemed too loud. however you knew they were tasteful.

you couldn’t care any less about what they thought of you. your home was your everything and you wouldn’t change yourself for some stuck up old families. you found it marvelous ruining everything they deemed sacred.

one of your neighbors in particular, a man named lucius malfoy, had annoyed you to no end. he hated everything about you. andromeda told you several times by now that he proclaimed you a mad woman to anyone who brought you or wisteria house up.

so today, on the fifth of june two thousand and three, you were determined to win this feud.

lucius’ home, malfoy manor was hosting a party tonight, and you were set on ruining everything.

as you entered the mansion, you absentmindedly smoothed out your tight fit gown. it hung off your shoulders and had a tasteful slit on the left side, exposing your leg.

“y/n, come sit with teddy and i!” andromeda calls from a nearby table.

you smile at the woman and take your seat beside her, giving teddy a kiss on the forehead. he in return, makes his hair your favorite color and smiles up at you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come dear. i know how rude lucius has been to you, but i’m glad you’re being pleasant and showing off your best face.” andromeda says sarcastically, bringing her wine glass to her pointed lips.

you smirk, “lucius deserves to experience my full presence.”

the party kicks off and andromeda introduces you to many people, like harry potter, who you feel very awkward around. you can’t help it, you don’t know how to talk to someone who saved the world.

she also introduces you to lucius, who is carrying around a small poodle like it’s a handbag. he doesn’t say much to you and you don’t mind, his voice annoys you.

you decide to sneak away from andromeda’s conversation with lucius and make your way to a balcony. to the right, you spot your home. you smile to yourself and begin studying the malfoy garden.

after a little time passes you decide it best to find andromeda again, but before you can take a step lucius’ dog is licking your exposed leg.

“well how did you get here?” you jokingly ask the animal, crouching down to pet it.

the dog leans into your touch and that’s when you have an idea.

when you attended ilvermorny you learned a spell for dyeing flags so that the opposing houses couldn’t change it. it proved a big hit given the thunderbird house liked to turn flags into theirs as a joke during quadpot games.

you could dye the dogs fur so that lucius would have a conniption. the dye was completely safe as well, and you were sure the party guests would love to see lucius attempt to change to dogs fur back.

so you dyed the dog a key-lime green, and let it run back off to its owner.

“i suppose my father was right, you are mad.” a voice says from the hall.

you furrow your brows and step further into the hallway so you can get a look at who’s speaking.

leaning against the wall is a tall, pale, blonde boy. draco. andromeda told you about him. apparently he doesn’t like his father much and to spite him, takes teddy on walks in his garden every saturday and thursday morning.

“you know, people have been saying that my home is cursed to make any woman who lives in it insane. and i must admit after finding your aunt bellatrix’s journal i might have to believe them. her sanity did begin slipping after moving into that home.” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“bella was always mad. but if you keep tormenting my father i think it’ll be him to go insane. not that i don’t enjoy your little pranks on him.” he gushes, letting a small smile creep onto his face.

“i can’t just end your dad an i’s little feud here, draco. it would make me look cowardly,” you tease, biting your lip. “i really don’t even know why he invited me to this party. come to think of it, i don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”

“i invited you. it’s my birthday party.” he replies.

“why thank you for your invitation. may i ask how old you are?” you ask.

“twenty-three at 11:37,” he looks at his pocket watch, “ten more minutes.”

you study him before saying, “you know there’s a wall at my house that shows you the way the stars look. would you like to see how the universe aligns the stars for your birthday?”

draco runs a hand through his hair, “i’d love to. and i’ve been meaning to see what you’ve done with bella’s old house.”

the two of you quietly sneak out of malfoy manor and into wisteria house. you lead him upstairs and into the sky room. the room had an enormously tall glass ceiling, and was decorated with things aurora had given you.

on the wall furtherest from the door was a live depiction of the stars above. tonight the wall showed a vibrant blue galaxy spotted with deep orange and bright white stars.

“you’re lucky, this is one of the best ones i’ve seen this whole year. the stars must like you.” you sigh, happily.

draco laughs a bit and looks at you, “despite being the town nuisance, i find you rather enjoyable.”

“despite that compliment being backhanded, i find you rather enjoyable as well.” you tease.

draco laughs, “did you know that the sacred twenty eight pureblood families have a nickname for you?”

you shake your head asking him to explain.

“they call you the last great american dynasty because you bought this big house and have money they can’t trace.” he says.

“i cant deny, i kind of like it.” you giggle.

draco looks down to his watch, “one minute and then i’m officially twenty three,” he pauses to smirk a little, “you know this is the age my parents got married, and i suppose my mother will expect the same of me now.”

“i’ve always said the best age to get hitched is twenty three. the brain isn’t fully developed so you can still love like a teenager but have the responsibilities of an adult. i suppose by that logic, i too should be getting married this year.” you joke.

draco smiles before looking at you quizzically.

you furrow your eyebrows, “what is it?”

“i think i have the perfect way to win your little feud with my father.”

“and what is that?” you ask.

“let’s get engaged.” he says simply.

“draco, i’m honored but,” you pause, thinking.

what would be the harm in accepting. you could spend however long you wanted mulling over the actual wedding. lucius would have to respect you a little more. and draco seemed to be a nice person.

“you know what, this mad woman wouldn’t mind being engaged to you. so long as you don’t rush me to marry you, and we stay here, at wisteria.” you bargain.

“you’re sure? you haven’t been drinking have you? i’d hate to propose to a woman who won’t remember this in the morning.” he jokes.

“i haven’t had anything other than pumpkin juice tonight. although i can say this is extremely impulsive, i am almost certain i’d like to marry you. i mean i just saw the ways the stars looked on your birthday. that’s the most intimate thing i’ve ever done with someone.” you smile.

“that’s the most intimate-” you cut the boy off with a simple, “of course not, silly.”

the two of you talk through the rest of the night and into the early morning before draco escorts himself home.

the following months were bliss, aside from lucius’ annoyance about you and his sons engagement. draco took you all over britian. you bought some of the best ice cream you’ve ever had from a shop in diagon alley, you visited aurora at hogwarts and met the lovely headmistress named minerva who gleamed at draco every time he spoke, you took draco to meet your parents in november to celebrate thanksgiving, and the two of you did a lot of landscaping for wisteria house.

“guess what tomorrow is.” you instruct your fiancee who is tending to the small wiggentree.

draco wipes the dirt from his forehead and purses his lips in thought, “ah, it’s our engagement party.”

you wink at him and wrap your cloak around yourself more trying to get warm, “precisely. i was thinking we announce the wedding day.”

he chuckles, “why y/n, we won’t be getting married for a while. plus i’d hate to toy with mother by giving her a date she’ll have to wait anxiously for. you know that woman is practically dying to have a wedding. though, i would have thought potters’ would have quenched her thirst.”

you roll your eyes, “we’re announcing the day. march the fourth two thousand and five.”

draco’s eyes widen, “and you’re sure?”

you nod and draco barrels toward you with a hug. it knocks you back a bit but you smile and hold the boy tight against you.

it didn’t take you long to become enraptured in everything that was draco malfoy. he loved you with a firey passion you longed to never go out.

the wedding day came quickly, but not quick enough for you and your fiancee.

“you know, i must say, this crowd has to be bigger than harry’s on his wedding day.” you say to andromeda, narcissa, and your mom.

“it’s because half of these people are a little too invested in your life. i love you but having your wedding at a former deatheater’s home isn’t exactly normal. i mean i know it’s not bella’s house anymore but the history remains. i can’t say anyone likes a home of a deatheater. no offense sissy.” andromeda says, looking out the window at the large crowd in the garden.

narcissa rolls her eyes and continues weaving the wisteria into your h/c hair.

“i wish i was better at braiding honey, but narcissa is doing better than i ever could. you were right to have me just doing your makeup.” your mom says, eyeing your mother-in-laws’ handiwork.

“i just can’t believe the day is finally here. my little boy is getting married. i always knew he’d marry a woman who could keep up with him.” narcissa smiles.

after you and your bridesmaids (who consisted of your best friend, andromeda, and your cousin aurora) were ready, narcissa and your mother escort you all down to the venue.

the two mothers smile at you before taking their seats.

“next time we talk you’ll be a married woman.” your best friend says, nudging your shoulder.

“isn’t it crazy?” you laugh, clutching your flowers.

she gives you a confident look before walking onto the aisle.

soon enough its your turn to walk. the long train of your white dress trails gracefully behind you and your off the shoulder long sleeves keep your arms warm.

the grey eyes at the end of the aisle look at you with such adoration you can’t help but to let out a stray tear.

draco looks regal in his light grey tux. his blonde hair is styled just like it was in a picture you found of him from his sixth year at hogwarts, and his rosy cheeks allude to his nerves.

when you reach him he holds a hand out for you and wipes the tears from your eyes.

your father is officiating the wedding and gives you a smile that only a father can give before starting his speech.

soon enough it’s time for draco to say his vows.

your lover sniffles a bit before speaking, “y/n l/n, for years this house has sat quietly on this hill, free of women with madness and bad habits until two years ago when it was bought by you. y/n, the most brilliant woman i’ve ever met. you ruined all the negativities that came with this home. your nature is unlike anyone else. you always see the best in people and things. you make a friendly competition out of anything and it never fails to amaze me at the way you push yourself. before we met i was out walking with a few old friends from school and you were outside wisteria planting lilac. i remember one of my friends referred to you as loudest woman this town has ever seen. i have to agree, your aura is impossible to escape. but i would never want to escape your madness. everything you do fills me with light. who knows if you never showed up what could have been. i’ve had a marvelous time ruining everything this home used to stand for with you, and i’d be honored to continue doing just that for the rest of my life. i adore you, y/n.”

your heart begged to reach out and hug him.

“i love you draco malfoy.” you profess.

“i know pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” your father beams.

draco leans into you and gives you a kiss full of love. all the best things in the universe couldn’t compare to this moment right now. in the end you had two soulmates, one, a home that you poured all your work into and two, a man who you poured your whole being into.

when the two of you break away you smile at your husband, knowing that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

and the town whispered the same thing years into your marriage, “there goes the last great american dynasty.”

#—myfics !#draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x reader #draco x female reader #draco x american! reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #the last great american dynasty #taylor swift #cottagecore #harry potter fanfiction

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wild-aloof-rebel · 5 years ago

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Do you have any David and Patrick wedding reception/after party/wedding night headcanons?

absolutely! here are nine…

even though the rest of the catering is delicious, david still misses the pizza that should have been, insisting that his carefully crafted menu is incomplete without it. halfway through the night, a dozen of elm county’s finest pizzas mysteriously appear, and though it isn’t fresh-baked the way it would have been had everything gone to plan, it’s salty and cheesy and hot and precisely what everyone needs to keep the night going. no one takes credit for ordering it, but patrick suspects that roland and jocelyn’s sudden absence during the cake cutting may have been for more wholesome reasons than he and david had assumed.

ii.

the cake is a traditional white almond sponge, but there’s a cherry filling and a thin layer of matcha buttercream in the middle that perfectly balance out the sweetness with bright and earthy notes. david had made patrick promise that he wouldn’t smash cake in his face, and he holds true to that vow, feeding him a careful bite from his own fork and relishing the way his eyes close and the corners of his lips quirk up, the same as they had the day they’d first sampled it at the bakery in elm glen, tipsy on free champagne and each other. but as soon as all the eyes in the room turn away from them and back to their own plates, patrick dips his finger into the icing and dabs a single dot of it to the corner of david’s affronted mouth just to have the excuse to lick it off of him.

iii.

there are too many toasts for david’s taste, which is to say any at all, the spotlight of stories and well-wishes making him wriggle in his seat, patrick’s hand squeezing gently at his thigh every time his leg begins to bounce. johnny, despite david’s worries, gets through his brief words without a single tear, just a huge, proud smile that doesn’t seem to leave his face all night. clint, on the other hand, tears up as soon as he starts, leaving marcy to swap his champagne flute with a tissue from her handbag. stevie, traitor that she is, opts to give her speech responsibilities over to alexis, and david braces himself for whatever horror story from their past she’s about to unleash. but instead of the past, she talks about the here and now, about the ease of david’s laughter and the quickness of his smiles, about the way patrick looks at him when he isn’t watching, about getting back a brother she hadn’t realized she’d lost and gaining another she hadn’t known she’d wanted, about how the walls we build around ourselves aren’t what protect us but love and friendship and family and trust are, about all the ways that letting others in only makes us more ourselves in the end. her charm and endless warmth invite everyone in to the story, make them a part of it, and there isn’t a dry eye in the room by the time she finally raises a glass, not only to david and patrick but also to this little town that brought them together–all of them–and gave them happiness they hadn’t known was possible.

iv.

patrick tears up watching david dance with marcy, his husband taking advantage of his height to spin her under his arm, her buoyant, carefree laughter floating out over the sounds of “brown eyed girl.” impossibly, he sometimes thinks she might love david even more than he does, and while he’s so glad that everything has worked out the way it should, there’s still a part of him that knows he could have missed this, that he could have let her miss this, not just the joy of dancing with david, which on its own is a beautiful thing, but the certainty of knowing that patrick is living this happy, comfortable life of his own choosing. they’ve talked a lot since his birthday, and he knows that all she and his dad have ever wanted is for him to be happy. there’s guilt and sorrow that twist in his gut like knives when he thinks about how close he came to denying them that, to denying himself that, and he still isn’t sure some days how he managed to walk away from that life and straight into this one he hadn’t even known he’d wanted instead. he honestly suspects some kind of divine intervention; it’s the only way to explain the miracle that is his husband, holding out a hand to him from the far side of the room, inviting him in once again to this world of joy and laughter and light that he gets the privilege of sharing with him every single day.

moira wears 4 different outfits throughout the night, and david can only roll his eyes fondly at each costume change. in addition to the white alexander mcqueen dress she wears for the ceremony, she slips into a black stella mccartney gown before the start of the reception, the fabric split at the shoulders to reveal sleeves made of the same delicate crystal-adorned mesh that’s stretched across her shoulders. at the end of the night when it’s time to retire to the motel, she says her final goodbyes in a gareth pugh striped pantsuit that reminds david so much of her pajamas he briefly wonders if she might actually sleep in it. but his favorite by far is the ethereally structured iris van herpen she dons after dinner and toasts and cake, the dress flowing around her in elegant waves as his father spins her across the dance floor, art come to life, all the sharp, swift lines of her blurring into something–someone–softer and subtler and more at ease than he ever thought she could be in this place.

vi.

after a dance with stevie, patrick spies his husband tucked into the far corner of the room, his nose buried in his phone. david startles when patrick’s hands slip around his waist from behind, but the surprise of it passes quickly and he relaxes back in patrick’s grasp, comfortable and safe and at home in his arms. he drops his phone to his side though when patrick presses up on his toes to hook his chin over his shoulder, but not before he can catch a glimpse of a picture of the canopy of tulle and flowers that hangs over the center of the room. you can admit it you know, patrick tells him. admit what? david asks, though he clearly knows he’s been caught out. patrick presses a quick, soft kiss to the curve of his neck, tightening his arms around his husband as he breathes him in. they did a good job. this place is beautiful. david scoffs, but there’s no truth in it at all and patrick buries a chuckle in his shoulder. you’re beautiful, david replies instead, raising his phone again but flipping to the front-facing camera this time. he catches patrick’s left hand in his own, squeezing them to his chest so that both their rings are visible on the screen. he snaps several, both of them grinning dopily at the camera or at each other, as if they can’t stop themselves from looking deliriously happy if they try. after a careful debate over which one is best–patrick argues for the picture where the crinkled laugh lines around david’s eyes are deepest, though david vetoes that one in favor of another where patrick’s smile is wide and bright as david presses a kiss to his cheek–david posts the picture to the store’s instagram account since he no longer uses his own, captioning it we’re officially a family-owned business now. family. david is his family. the thought bursts into happy sparks, a cascade of fireworks hot and bright inside of patrick, and he can’t help but kiss david then, turning him in his arms to press all this glittering joy against his lips.

vii.

much later, patrick opens instagram on his own phone to clear away the overwhelming number of notification that have popped up on the post. hundreds of likes and dozens of congratulatory comments have rolled in, but the very first of each is from rachel.

viii.

thought i might find you out here, patrick says as he finds his husband standing in the inky darkness out behind the building. he looks overwhelmed–by the noise and the people and the emotions of the day–but in that way like he still can’t quite believe this is all real. let’s go for a drive, patrick offers. david’s brow wrinkles but he climbs into the passenger seat without a word, and patrick knows that however many mountains he’d climb for this man, he’d never have to do it alone. he can feel the moment that david realizes where they’re going, his fingers digging excitedly into the meat of patrick’s thigh. it’s well after midnight, so he doesn’t pull into the driveway, stopping instead on the shoulder across the road. he drags a blanket from the trunk and throws it across the hood of his car, offering david a hand to help him clamber up on top of it. they sit together there under the stars, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at their future, sketching the shape of it in whispers and hushed giggles and kisses soft and warm. only when they’re both shivering in the damp night air do they finally climb down and crawl back into the car, taking one long last look at the place they’ll soon call home. i wish it was already ours, david confesses into the safety of the dark, and patrick threads their fingers together, squeezing until he can feel both of their rings digging into his skin. me too, he says, but you’re still the only home i need.

ix.

they slip in quietly through the back door, though stevie grins wolfishly at them from across the room to let them know their absence hadn’t gone unnoticed. but there’s more dancing then. and drinks. photos. conversations. all these beautiful memories in the making. and later still, when things finally wind down and their parents and most of their other guests have said good night, david’s stomach rumbles loudly enough to be heard over the hushed strains of whitney houston still playing in the background. patrick, half-drunk, buries his fond, ridiculous laughter in his husband’s neck, and twyla suggests they head to the cafe. together with alexis and stevie, they wander right down the middle of the street, arms linked between them, david shaking his head as the other four make a sloppy, over-loud attempt at belting out “willkommen.” at the cafe, they all pile in to a booth together, talking loudly enough that twyla can still join in, calling back to them through the pass-through as she cooks up a mountain of scrambled eggs with cheese and warm, buttery toast, which she brings out all on one big plate. as they dive in, david thinks back to all the best meals he had when he lived in new york–expensive dinners at michelin-starred restaurants, quick lunches at greasy spoons, long boozy brunches and cheap late-night dives–and none of them could possibly compare to 3 AM scrambled eggs at the only restaurant in town, with his husband pressed so close he’s practically in david’s lap, surrounded by these people he loves more than he ever thought he could, all of them cackling wildly as they try to steal bites off each other’s forks. it’s the kind of moment–the kind of life–he would have never even thought to dream of, but it’s his and it’s real and he’s going to do everything he can to hold on to it for as long as he’s able.

#imargaery #replies #long post #rebel writes #this turned out way longer than i mean it to but oh well

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papermoonloveslucy · 4 years ago

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OLD GOLD COMEDY THEATRE

“A GIRL, A GUY, AND A GOB” ~ February 11, 1945

The Old Gold Comedy Theatre (aka Harold Lloyd Comedy Theatre) was NBC Radio’s attempt to replicate the success of CBS’ Lux Radio Theatre. It debuted on October 29th, 1944. Silent film star and producer (and Lucille Ball’s mentor) Harold Lloyd introduced condensations of movie comedies. This film happened to be one of his own. NBC programmed the series Sunday nights at 10:30PM for east coast audiences. The series was cancelled on June 10th, 1945.

Lucille Ball had done the second episode of the series, starring in Ball of Fire on November 5, 1944. Ball took the role originated in the 1941 film by Barbara Stanwyck while Cary Grant reprised his role for radio.

A Girl, a Guy and a Gob is a 1941 RKO film produced by Harold Lloyd and starring Lucille Ball, George Murphy, and Edmond O'Brien. Ball and Murphy reprise their film roles for radio.

The film had previously been dramatized for radio on “The Screen Guild Radio Theatre” on October 9, 1944, also starring Ball and Murphy.

Synopsis ~ A shy, quiet executive for a shipping firm who finds himself with a dilemma: he's become smitten with his young temporary secretary but she's the girlfriend of his Navy buddy - and the buddy is scheduled to be discharged in only a few days.

Note: “Gob” is a slang word for a sailor. This term first showed up in regard to sailors around 1909 and may have come from the word gobble. Reportedly, some people thought that sailors gobbled their food. The term also may come from the word gob, which means to spit, something sailors also reportedly do often.

CAST

Lucille Ball as Dorothy (Dotty) Duncan aka ‘The Girl’

George Murphy as Claudius (Coffee) Cup aka ‘The Gob’ ~ was in four films with Lucille Ball between 1934 and 1941. In 1959, Murphy served as guest host of “The Westinghouse Desilu Playhouse” when Desi Arnaz took a role in his own anthology series. He was also a performer in “The Desilu Revue” aired in December 1959. As the host of “MGM Parade”, he interviewed Lucy and Desi in February 1956.

Will Wright as Pop Duncan ~ would appear with Lucille Ball in the 1949 film Miss Grant Takes Richmond, and played the locksmith in “The Handcuffs” (ILL S2;E4) in 1952, and the Bent Fork Sheriff in “Tennessee Bound” (ILL S4;E14) in 1955. The role was played on screen by George Cleveland.

EPISODE

The announcer introduces the evening’s play and its stars as well as the director, Harold Lloyd. Lloyd states that he has recruited the original stars of the film version. Murphy and Ball take the microphone. Lucille’s next film, MGM’s Without Love, is briefly mentioned. Llloyd sets the story,

Executive Stephen Herrick is taking his date to a piano concert at Carnegie Hall when he discovers people are already sitting in his usual box seats. It is Dotty (Lucille Ball) and Coffee Cup (Murphy). Lucy whacks Mr. Herrick in the head with her handbag when he threatens to call the manager. Coffee Cup admits that he did not exactly purchase the tickets legally and they decide to make a hasty departure.

COFFEE CUP: “For my money, Count Basie’s got it all over this guy Josie Iturbe.”

José Iturbi Báguena (1895-1980) was a Spanish conductor, pianist and harpsichordist. He appeared in several Hollywood films of the 1940s, playing himself in the 1943 musical Thousands Cheer, which also featured Lucille Ball. Lucille Ball mentions Iturbi again on an October 7, 1949 episode of her radio show “My Favorite Husband.” William James "Count" Basie (1904-84) was an American jazz pianist, organist, bandleader, and composer.

Next day, at Mr. Herrick’s office, his new secretary arrives - it is Dotty! Herrick threatens to throw her out if she won’t leave and Dotty quickly explains that she gave him the money for the tickets but he lost it on a horse. Herrick reluctantly agrees to hire her anyway.

Sailors Coffee Cup and Eddie meet Dotty for lunch. He begs Dotty to allow him to get a tattoo like Eddie. She is adamant - no tattoos. Eddie claims he can grow four inches right in front of them - with his heels flat on the ground. Mr. Herrick comes by and sees the growing crowd watching this. A bet is wagered if Eddie can truly do it. Dotty borrows five bucks from Mr. Herrick so that Coffee Cup can make the bet.

When Eddie succeeds, the assembled crowd soon turns into a mob and there is a fist fight and a broken store window. Mr. Herrick gets knocked out by a big lug, who in turn is knocked out by Dotty’s lethal purse.

END of ACT ONE

A live Old Gold Cigarette commercial touts that the tobacco blend includes apple honey, to prevent dryness.

Earlier in her career, Lucille Ball was a spokes model for Chesterfield Cigarettes. Later, she would be associated with Philip Morris when they agreed to sponsor “I Love Lucy.” Despite this, Lucille Ball herself remained a Chesterfield smoker for most of her life.

“And remember, when the gremlins gang up on you, why be irritated? Light up an Old Gold.”

ACT TWO Eddie and Coffee Cup have taken Herrick back to Dot’s busy brownstone to calm his nerves, giving him a sleeping powder. There he is watched over by Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, Dot’s parents. Her father is listening to “The Lone Stranger” on the radio while Mrs. Liebowitz (an upstairs neighbor) is about to have a baby!

“The Lone Stranger” is a comical reference to “The Lone Ranger.” The masked cowboy first appeared on radio in 1933 and proved to be a hit. It spawned a series of books and later an equally popular television show that ran from 1949 to 1957.

Coffee Cup comes by to check on Mr. Herrick, who is only concerned with finding his pants. Dotty comes in to help him find them. They are about to set the table for dinner - corned beef and cabbage - when Liebowitz number 9 comes in to the world. Mr. Herrick wins the baby weight pool. He agrees to go out on the town and celebrate with them.

A few days later, Dotty is late back from lunch, showing off her new engagement ring. She tells Mr. Herrick that Coffee Cup has a wrestling match that night. If he wins, the prize money will pay for their wedding. Mr. Herrick confesses that he hopes Coffee Cup loses.

At the wedding chapel, Eddie wonders why he asked Mr. Herrick to be their best man when he is obviously in love with Dotty. Mr. Higgenbottom, photographer, interrupts to get a photo, mistaking Mr. Herrick for the groom. The sailors need to get back to the ship, so Coffee Cup allows them to give Dotty a farewell kiss before the wedding. Mr. Herrick gets in line. Dotty suddenly feels awkward and runs out.

Coffee Cup follows her to talk privately. She has been crying. He wonders if she has feelings for Mr. Herrick. While she fixes her face, Coffee Cup steps out and tells Mr. Herrick he should go in and console her. Coffee Cup tells Eddie to inform Dot’s mother that he went to get cigarettes.

END of ACT TWO

Another live commercial for Old Gold Cigarettes. The announcer reminds listeners that the men in uniform get first consideration in the distribution of Old Gold Cigarettes.

ACT THREE

Harold Lloyd sets the scene. The bride and the best man are at the alter, but the groom is nowhere to be found. Mr. Herrick realizes what has happened and rushes out to follow Coffee Cup, who has driven away on motorcycle. Mr. Herrick yells at him from a taxi cab.

Suddenly, Coffee Cup crashes, but is unharmed. When Herrick threatens to bring him back to the alter, Coffee Club slugs him and tells the cabbie to take them back to the chapel. He writes a note on the unconscious Herrick’s shirt front and with a loud honk of the taxi horn, speeds away toward the ship yard. Dotty and the wedding party find Herrick on the street and she reads the note:

“Dot, this guy loves you and I know now you love him. It’s a good thing I found out before it was too late. See you next time I’m on leave. ~ Coffee Cup. PS: The wedding’s all paid for, why don’t you use it and you and him get married.”

At the shipyard, Eddie catches up with Coffee Cup, who reports that Dot did indeed marry Mr. Herrick. As they board the ship, they discuss plans for Coffee Cup’s new tattoo.

END OF EPISODE

Harold Llloyd, George Murphy, and Lucille Ball bid audiences goodnight. He reminds them to tune in next week for Jack Haley, Jimmy Gleason, and Eve Arden in The Milky Way.

The Announcer thanks RKO, producers of Experiment Perilous.

George Murphy appeared courtesy of MGM, producers of National Velvet.

#Lucille Ball #George Murphy #A Girl A Guy And A Gob #Radio #Old Gold Cigarettes #Harold Lloyd #RKO #The Lone Ranger #Thousands Cheer #Will Wright #1945

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bunnygirl330 · 5 years ago

Text

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝;

pairing: ander muñoz x omar shana, background guzman nunier osuna x nadia shana

genre: angst, fluff, future au

word count: 6.3k

warnings: internalized homophobia

summary: Ander's grandparents are coming to visit for the first time in 7 years, there's just one problem. They're Catholic and unaware of Ander's relationship with Omar. Ander is hoping that he can get through the week without them finding out and without him losing his temper.

a/n: The title of this comes from Take me to Church which I know is an old song now but I've always loved it and I felt like it really applied here. This fic is only edited by me so all mistakes are my own, please let me know if you find any so that I can fix them.I have seen a lot of fics about Omar coming out to his family because that's what they focus on in the show but I thought it would be interesting to see Ander's perspective of coming out to someone who wouldn't be as accepting as his mother.It was also really important to me to show someone accepting Ander (which in this case was Mateo) because I think a lot of the time Catholics (or any other badly portrayed religion) get a bad reputation and it's important to remember that not all strictly religious people will be unaccepting. AO3

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Ander had never dreaded anything more in his life than he was dreading this next week. He’d graduated high school, he’d got a degree, he’d even helped Omar come out to his parents but nothing was as bad as this. Ander hadn’t spoken to his grandparents in almost 7 years, except of course for the occasional phone call on is birthday and Christmas, but this was different. They were coming to stay for a week and there was absolutely no way he could avoid them for that long.

Ander’s grandparents know absolutely nothing about his life, they think they do, but none of it’s true. They didn’t go to his wedding, well they had never been invited, they thought he was single, much to his grandmother’s dismay, and Ander couldn’t stand the thought of having to keep up that charade for a whole week.

“Hey,” Ander snapped out of his trance as Omar’s arms snaked around his waist and he relaxed into his touch. “still thinking about next week?” Omar asked cautiously, knowing the impending visit was becoming an increasingly touchy subject for Ander.

“I can’t help it,” Ander whined “every time I think about it it makes me want to be sick!” Omar spun Ander round to face him,

“Listen, I know that this is difficult, but if we got through three years of a relationship without my parents knowing, then we can go through one more week of pretending.” Omar was trying his best to soothe his husband but he knew at this point that it was basically useless.

“But I thought we agreed we wouldn’t pretend again, not after all the shit we went through with your dad.” Omar gave Ander a look of sympathy as he pulled him into a hug, “Ugh,” Ander sighed “why do my grandparents have to be fucking Catholics?” Omar chuckled as Ander continued to grumble into his shoulder.

———

The next week came around far too quickly for Ander’s liking and before he knew it he was lying in bed with Omar dreading the next morning when his grandparents would arrive. Ander was spinning his wedding ring round on his finger so Omar could tell he was nervous.

“I don’t wanna make you feel any worse but you do know you’re gonna have to take that off when your grandparents are here right?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about that!” Ander said as he dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

“It’s not like it’s just you. I can’t wear mine either, do you really think I’d be your roommate if I was married?” Ander looked up at Omar with a dejected look on his face.

“You must realise that that doesn’t make me feel better. All it does is make me feel as if we’re going backwards.” Ander looked as if he was about to cry and Omar felt a pang in his heart as he looked at his face, “To your parents I was your roommate for three years and I don’t know if I can do that again…” Ander trailed off as the tears began to fall from his eyes and his head fell onto Omar’s chest.

“I know…… I know,” Omar whispered as he started stroking his fingers over Ander’s soft curls, “but you heard what Azucena said, her parents are almost eighty and if you told them now they might end up dying from the shock.” Omar’s attempt to lighten the mood earned a small giggle from Ander but it sounded more like a hiccup because of his crying. “Plus you’ll still have me there, I won’t be gone. And you’ll have Guzman and Nadia. We’re here for you Ander. I promise.” Omar leaned down and kissed his hair. Ander looked up and kissed Omar, gently at first but then Omar opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Everything would be alright, Ander knew that, because he had Omar, and nobody could ever take that away from him.

———

The next morning was a flurry of activity. Nadia and Guzman arrived at 9 to help them set up and Ander’s grandparents were due to arrive with his mother at around noon. All pictures resembling any sort of romantic relationship between Ander and Omar were taken down and hidden in the airing cupboard, all of Ander’s belongings were moved into the spare bedroom and Nadia had cleaned the entire apartment from head to toe by 11:50, Guzman had tried to help her but gave up after half an hour as Nadia saw him as more of a nuisance than a source of aid.

The four of them stood surveying the apartment, Ander had a look of complete helplessness on his face.

“It just looks….. empty.” Ander said. Of course, he didn’t mean empty in a sense of a lack of furniture and objects, they were all still exactly where they had been. What Ander meant was that it seemed empty of happiness and love, as if by taking pictures off the wall they had stripped his and Omar’s house of the very thing that made it their home. For Ander that wasn’t even the worst part though, he kept touching his ring finger expecting the cool metal to be there but each time was instead filled with a sense of dread. Omar and Ander had put their wedding rings back in their boxes earlier that morning and he felt as if a small piece of his soul had been put in the box too. Ander felt like he was about to break down but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Nadia and Guzman went to sit on the couch as Omar spun Ander to face him, gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Hey, listen to me, it’s gonna be okay. It’s not like they’re staying here so you don’t have to pretend all the time, it’s just a few hours. Besides, I’ll be right here the whole time.” Ander quickly pecked Omar on the lips and then tried to muster up the best smile he could as Omar joined the others on the couch.

“Grandma! Grandad! It’s so lovely to finally see you again.” Ander hugged his mother, shook hands with his grandfather and then finally came face to face with his grandmother, the source of all his nightmares over the past two months.

“Ander, honey, it’s been too long!” His grandmother exclaimed pinching his cheeks with excitement. Ander plastered a smile on his face and replied,

“I know it has Grandma, I’m happy you’re finally here.” his grandmother gave his cheeks one last squeeze and then released him.

The four of them made their way over to the living area where Nadia, Guzman and Omar had been awkwardly waiting, not entirely sure what to do amidst the family reunion. The three of them stood up to greet the guests, all giving Azucena a warm hug and shaking the hand of Ander’s grandfather. As his grandma approached Guzman her face lit up,

“Oh, Guzman, it’s so lovely to see you! I can’t believe you and Ander are still friends after all this time!”

“Mrs López, it’s lovely to see you too.” Guzman said politely as she pulled him into a hug.

“Oh don’t be silly, call me Camilla. I’ve known you for too long for you to still be calling me that.” Camilla looked over at Nadia - who was stood closely by Guzman’s side - with a slightly odd look on her face. “And who’s this?” She directed the question towards Guzman rather than Nadia herself much to Nadia’s annoyance, but she kept it hidden well.

“This is Nadia, my beautiful wife.” Guzman stated with a fond look down at her as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Nadia smiled towards Camilla and extended her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ander’s told us so much about you.” This, of course, was a lie as Ander preferred not to speak of his grandparents, but she didn’t need to know that. Ander’s grandmother simply pursed her lips and nodded towards Nadia leaving her to awkwardly drop her hand back down to her side as Camilla’s hands stayed clutched to her small handbag. Ander, of course, had anticipated this as it was difficult enough for Camilla to accept that him and his mother were atheists and even without her hijab Nadia was clearly not of Spanish or Catholic descent. Still, it hurt Ander to see that his grandmother hadn’t learned to put aside her prejudices yet.

Now it was the moment of truth as Camilla approached Omar, Azucena and her father having already greeted him and sat down on the other end of the L-shaped couch. Camilla’s lips became a fine line as she slowly looked Omar up and down,

“And you are…?” she said slowly as Omar shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“I’m Omar, Nadia’s brother.” Omar said, refraining from sticking out his hand after her reaction to Nadia and deciding to stare down at his feet instead.

“Why does that qualify you to be here now? This is a family reunion for Ander, not Nadia, not even Guzman.” Camilla’s tone was becoming harsher with every word that came out of her mouth and Omar realised that he’d clearly used the wrong relationship to introduce himself. Ander could feel the tension building in the room and quickly moved to stand beside Omar clasping his shoulder in his hand as he did so.

“Grandma, Omar is also my best friend and my roommate. Remember? I told you about him on the phone when you called to say you were coming.”

“Hmm.” Was Camilla’s only reply as she stalked past the two of them to sit between her daughter and husband. As Ander moved to take a seat next to Omar his grandmother carefully cleared her throat and Ander moved to sit between her and his mother instead.

Camilla made small talk with Ander and Azucena for the next 15 minutes occasionally stopping to ask Guzman a question but blatantly ignoring the other two people in the room. At one point Nadia got up to start making lunch as she had offered to do the day before considering Ander couldn’t cook to save his life, Azucena offered to help but Omar stepped in instead clearly feeling uncomfortable in his current situation.

Lunch was ready 45 minutes later and the seven of them sat down to eat. Nadia had cooked Tortilla Española and patatas bravas in order to keep things traditionally Spanish for Ander’s grandparents.

“Guzman, your wife can cook very nicely.” Camilla said, ignoring the sour look on Nadia’s face that the compliment had been directed towards her husband rather than herself. As if somehow being married to Guzman made her just another part of him, but Nadia said nothing knowing they were here to support Ander.

“Why don’t you have a wife by now Ander?” Camilla turned to look at him with a slightly smug look on her face at her own ability to turn a conversation into something she was interested in. Ander had been dreading this all night, he knew it was bound to come up and yet he prayed that the further they got into the conversation the less likely she was to bring it up, oh how wrong he had been.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right person darling.” Ander’s grandfather piped up for basically the first time since they arrived, clearly happy to let his wife do most of the talking.

“Mateo hush, Ander can speak for himself.” Camilla snapped back at her husband.

“I’ve just been focusing on my career right now Grandma.” Ander spouted the pre-prepared lie out of his mouth before the other part of his brain could make him say something stupid. Something like, ‘I am married and I just never told you. Oh and also I’m married to a man.’ because as much as he wanted to say it he knew deep down that it wasn’t the right time, that it was never going to be the right time.

“And I’m sure that’s very good for you darling but my friend happens to have a granddaughter moving down here and it would be lovely if you could meet up with her. She’s very pretty, and I know that you’re not Catholic but it might be nice to see why it’s not such a bad thing to believe in God, despite what your mother may have told you.” She directed the last part of her sentence towards her daughter, the smug smile having returned to her face. Ander gritted his teeth to prevent himself from hurling his plate across the room towards his grandmother, he thought that he and Omar had gotten past all of the arranged marriages with Yusef and Iman but apparently his grandma also thought she had the right to decide who he married. He sighed, he couldn’t let his anger get the best of him, there was no way he’d be able to stop if he started so it was better just not to start.

“It’s very nice of you to offer Grandma but I think it’s better if I find someone on my own.” Ander said with a quick glance towards Omar who had a small smirk on his face, clearly he found this more amusing than Ander.

“But-” Camilla started to retaliate but was quickly cut off by Azucena.

“He said no, okay mum? If Ander wanted your help with his love life then he would ask.” Camilla turned back towards her food with a deep scowl and the four 20-year-olds had to suppress their happiness at Camilla being told to back off, especially Nadia who was beginning to get a sense of deja vu from her own parents before they knew Omar was gay.

Lunch continued in silence and not long after Azucena stated that she would take her parents home considering they’d had a long drive and that they would be back again tomorrow, Azucena and Ander having taken the week off work in order to spend time with Mateo and Camilla. Everyone stood to wave off the three of them and then Ander slammed the door shut after them with a sigh of relief.

“Well that was the longest three hours of my life.” Guzman stated, making the other three burst into laughter considering they all felt exactly the same way. They went to sit back on the couch, Nadia and Guzman intertwined on one side and Ander resting his head on Omar’s chest on the other. With this Ander turned towards Nadia with the intent of apologising for his grandmother’s behaviour but Nadia was too quick and knew Ander too well.

“Ander please don’t start apologising. It’s not your fault that your grandma is a little….. old-fashioned.” She said, trying to find the right word.

“I know but she was just so rude to you. To both of you.” Ander said turning his head back to look at Omar, “I feel like I should’ve said something….” he trailed off staring between the three of them.

“Ander don’t worry about it honestly.” Nadia said gently and then proceeded to move the subject onto something else.

Nadia and Guzman stayed for the rest of the day, the four of them chatting and watching films until they left at around 9.

As Ander gently closed the door behind them Omar came up behind him, spun him round and pushed him into the door Omar’s lips quickly coming into contact with his own as they kissed deeply.

“I’ve been dying to do that all day.” Omar said staring at Ander, his pupils blown with lust.

“Oh yeah?” Ander said with a smirk on his face as he wrapped his hands tightly around the back of Omar’s neck.

“Yeah.” Omar whispered into his ear as he bit down on his earlobe and started kissing down Ander’s neck eliciting small moans from Ander.

“Omar?” Ander moaned out.

“Yeah?”

“Take me to bed.” And so that’s exactly what Omar did.

———

The next few days went by in a whirlwind. Azucena and Ander were taking his grandparents to all the local landmarks, meeting up with several of their upper class friends, including Guzman, much to the delight of Camilla, especially since Nadia wasn’t able to attend that particular meet up. They ate in fancy restaurants while Ander filled his grandparents in on everything that was happening in his life, but of course leaving out the bits that included his marriage to another man. Every night Ander would return to Omar and their small apartment counting down the days until his grandparents went home.

It was three days before Camilla and Mateo were due to return home and Azucena had an emergency to deal with at Las Encinas so it was just Ander and his grandparents. Ander felt less uncomfortable than he thought he would as they sat down in a beautiful restaurant that his grandmother had been very insistent on coming to. He was actually beginning to believe that he might get through this week without everything going to shit and that was something he would count as a miracle.

They ordered their drinks and Camilla whispered something to the waiter before starting up a conversation with her grandson about his job. Camilla knew that Ander was focusing on his career, and she was incredibly proud of him, but at the same time she couldn’t help the sense of dread she felt whenever she thought about his lack of a wife. She wasn’t quite sure where the dread came from but she knew that she needed to make it go away and the easiest way to do that was to get Ander a wife, or at the very least a girlfriend. At that moment Camilla noticed Liliana approaching the table and a huge smile spread across her face.

“Liliana you look beautiful! I’m so glad we got to see you while we were here.” Camilla had stood up and pulled the girl into a warm embrace at the same time that Ander looked up to see who his grandma was talking to. Ander started to feel as if there was an alarm ringing in his ears and a voice in the back of his head telling him to run, but he couldn’t. He just sat there stock still and unable to move, looking intently at the woman in his grandmother’s arms.

“Ander, this is Liliana, the girl I told you about at lunch on Sunday. Liliana, this is Ander, my grandson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Liliana said looking nervously between Ander and his grandmother. Ander looked over at Mateo who appeared to be as shocked as he was at this woman’s magical appearance at their family lunch.

“Umm, you too.” Ander said reaching out his hand. As angry as he was right now he didn’t want to seem rude, after all it wasn’t this poor girl’s fault that his grandmother appeared to know nothing about boundaries.

“Sit, sit.” Camilla said, ushering Liliana into the empty seat at the table, which happened to be beside Ander, before sitting back in her own.

For the next 90 minutes conversation flowed between Liliana and Camilla, the two of them occasionally looking at Ander but he remained silent, consumed with rage. He didn’t understand what made his grandma think that she had the right to do something like this, how she could possibly believe that it was ok. Not only was she wasting his time but this woman’s time as well. More than anything he just felt anger, towards his grandmother, towards this woman (even if she didn’t necessarily deserve it), towards this whole fucking restaurant.

“Ander darling, you’re being rather rude. You haven’t said more that two words to Liliana since she sat down. She manages this restaurant you know? She’s taken time out of her day to come and have dinner with us.” Rage surged through Ander at Camilla’s words, at the insinuation that out of everyone here, he was the rude one.

“Grandma, I’m sorry but you must be joking right? I told you on Sunday that this wasn’t something I was interested in.” A deep frown took it’s place on Camilla’s face as Liliana sank back slightly in her seat, feeling more than uncomfortable. “I told you but you didn’t listen.” Ander hissed, his voice rising with every word. “I cannot believe you!” He shouted, standing up from his chair, “I’m sorry,” he said towards Liliana, “but I’m not looking for a relationship right now let alone a wife.” and with that Ander stormed out of the restaurant and started walking quickly back towards his apartment, back towards Omar.

———

Ander stormed into the apartment slamming the door angrily behind him as Omar looked up from the pan he was hovered over, clearly planning to make dinner and assuming that Ander wouldn’t be back yet. Ander was cursing under his breath as he began to pace around in the space between the living room and the kitchen.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Omar asked as he tried to get Ander’s attention.

“My fucking grandmother tried to get me a wife that’s what’s fucking wrong!” Ander knew that his anger was being misdirected towards Omar but he couldn’t help it, he just wanted to hit something. Omar felt rage boil up inside him. How could she do something like this? Omar hated when people made Ander angry, or sad, or just any sort of negative emotion really. It wasn’t fair that just because his grandparents had certain religious beliefs that they felt entitled to make him get married. Omar could feel old feelings coming back from almost four years ago, before he’d come out to his parents, only now he felt them on Ander’s behalf. But that wasn’t what Omar needed to focus on right now, he could see Ander’s rage slowly turning into tears and he knew that he needed comfort. Omar pulled Ander into his arms and they stood there like that for 20 minutes while Ander cried into Omar’s shoulder and until both of their legs began to ache.

“Hey, come here. Give me one second.” Omar deposited a still sniffling Ander onto the couch and ran quickly into their bedroom and ran out a few seconds later with their wedding rings in his hand. On Sunday, being unsure of when Ander’s grandparents specific daily visits would be, Ander and Omar had decided to leave their wedding rings off until Camilla and Mateo had returned home, which had, for obvious reasons, made Ander even more depressed.

“Here.” Omar took Ander’s left hand in his as he sat down on the couch next to him. Omar placed Ander’s wedding ring back onto his finger and then brought his hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. “You don’t need to worry about your grandma finding you a wife, ‘cause you already have a husband, and I have no intention of letting you go.” Ander now had fresh tears in his eyes as Omar caressed his cheek gently. Ander silently took Omar’s wedding ring out of his hand and slipped it onto his finger, kissing Omar’s hand in the same way Omar had kissed his. Omar then cupped Ander’s cheek and pulled his face towards his own, their lips crashing together in a mixture of love, passion and tears. Ander felt his heart swell, he knew everything would always be okay, as long as he had Omar right there by his side.

———

The next day came far too quickly and before he knew it Ander was being ripped out of his blissful sleep by a loud knocking on the door.

The night before, after the two of them had calmed down, they’d had a quiet night in, eating the meal Omar had cooked and watching movies together until Omar had fallen asleep with his head on Ander’s chest.

Ander shook Omar awake as the knocking persisted and the two of them stared at each other. Confused and still half asleep Ander stumbled around grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt and then ran towards the door, opening it with a pissed off look on his face. He came face to face with Guzman and Nadia who were looking at him sympathetically, as if he was a turtle who had landed on his back and couldn’t get back up.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ander continued to stare at them as Guzman just laughed and pushed past him into the apartment.

“Relax man, we heard about your shitty day yesterday and brought you breakfast.” Guzman said, as if that was a good enough explanation for why they had interrupted Ander’s sleep, and on a Saturday of all the days, he didn’t even need to be awake for another 45 minutes.

“How did you even know about that?”

“Omar texted me last night and told me.” Nadia explained as she busied herself making breakfast and slapping Guzman’s hand away every time he tried to grab food. Ander spun around to look at Omar who had now appeared from their bedroom still rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. Omar just shrugged and smiled sheepishly as he made his way to the kitchen to take over from Nadia as everyone knew Omar could make better waffles than Nadia ever could.

Once breakfast was ready the four of them stood around the kitchen island eating and listening as Ander once again recounted the horrors of his previous afternoon. Nadia was enraged at the idea of Camilla trying to find Ander a wife but that wasn’t particularly surprising considering she wasn’t Camilla’s biggest fan. Guzman however, found the entire situation absolutely hilarious saying he could just picture Ander’s face, which only made him laugh more. Omar tried very hard to keep a straight face but couldn’t help joining in and eventually Nadia did too, because if you really thought about it, it was quite funny. Ander was obviously and (mostly) openly gay so the idea of him being faced with a woman that wanted to marry him was far too funny for Guzman to comprehend.

On the other hand Ander failed to see the hilarity of the situation and stood there staring at his friends and his husband with a look of disdain on his face. He was about to start yelling at them to shut up when there was a rapid knocking at the door for the second time that morning.

“Who the fuck is here now? It’s only 9 o’clock in the morning can people not leave us in peace?” Ander grumbled as he made his way to the door and swiftly opened it to reveal his stony faced grandmother on the other side, Mateo and Azucena in tow.

Camilla walked past Ander and straight into the apartment stopping to stand in the living room and stare disapprovingly at the three adults clustered around the island in the kitchen. Mateo quickly followed and Azucena stopped to greet her son.

“I’m sorry.” She said “I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen.”

Omar, Guzman and Nadia had all stopped laughing and were now staring awkwardly anywhere other than Camilla, unable to look her in the eyes without bursting into a second round of hysterics. Eventually Ander made his way over to his grandparents with his mother trailing after him, he gave the other three a look telling them to stay where they were and to stay quiet.

Ander came to a stop in front of Camilla as Azucena joined her father on the couch. Ander’s hands were clasped nervously behind his back and he was staring intently at a particular spot on the floor. However Camilla just stood there staring straight at Ander with her lips pursed and her hands clasping her tiny handbag in front of her.

“Listen, Grandma-” Ander started.

“No you listen.” Clearly the patience had been a front to try and start the conversation. “All I was trying to do was find you a respectable wife without you having to do any of the hard work. I wasn’t even expecting you to marry her but you could have at least gone on a date, or tried to get to know her. But no! Instead you storm out of the restaurant like a little child, I mean, you’re 25 years old Ander, you could have at least had the courtesy to tell us all why exactly you refuse to date anyone.” Ander took a deep breath trying to process the whole of his grandmother’s rant without hitting something.

“Grandma, I know this is hard for you to understand but people don’t get married as young as they used to anymore and I’m trying really hard to build up my career before I take on the responsibility of another person in my life.” He hadn’t come this far to give up now, he was going to stick to his lie and if she didn’t like it then she was going to have to live with it. At least it was possible for her to live with this, which was more than could be said for the truth. Camilla took Ander’s hands in her own and looked up at him. “I know honey, and I know you’ll have a fantastic career but-” The smile and softness that had appeared on her face after Ander had said his explanation suddenly vanished as she gripped Ander’s left hand and looked down at it with an unreadable expression on her face.

The next ten seconds seemed like ten years as Ander pulled his hand from his grandmother’s grasp and swore profusely as he saw his wedding ring still on his finger from the night before. He’d gotten so used to wearing it that he didn’t even notice it anymore. Omar, who realised immediately what had happened, quickly shoved his left hand behind his back having also forgotten to remove his ring. That being said Omar wasn’t sure what use that would do now considering at this point the truth was inevitable. Guzman and Nadia stood staring at each other utterly confused. Azucena also swore as she put her head in her hands and Mateo just sat there with an oddly smug look on his face.

But Camilla…….. she just stood stock still, stunned into silence and unable to speak.

“You’re wearing… you’re wearing a w-wedding ring.” That was all she could manage to say as she stumbled backwards and landed on the couch next to her husband.

Guzman froze and Nadia looked quickly at her brother as it dawned on them both exactly what had just happened.

Ander felt defeated. He’d been lying to his grandparents for almost a week and for what? The truth came out anyway, he might as well have not bothered. But the one thing he knew right now was that he had to sort this out, he had to be honest. So with a new plan in mind he walked slowly and kneeled on the floor in front of his grandparents, looking up at them with eyes a mixture of happiness that he no longer had to lie but also anger at what he was going to have to do and at the inevitable reaction. Ander was about to open his mouth but Camilla beat him to it.

“So……. you’re married.” She stated, a blank expression her face. “Well at least now I have a proper reason as to why you didn’t like Liliana. But what I don’t quite understand is why you felt the need to lie to me. Is she not Catholic? Because that doesn’t bother me. And when can I meet her? Is she away? Will she be back in time for me to see her? Is she-”

Ander cut off his grandmother with a large sigh as he tried to get himself together. “That’s not it Grandma, okay? She’s none of those things, in fact, she’s not a she at all. I’m gay.” Ander said those last two words whilst staring his grandma right in the eye and then looking to his grandad. It felt so good to finally say it and for them to know. Mateo had a look on his face that Ander hadn’t expected. It was pride, happiness, almost. Camilla however looked white like a ghost. She was staring at Ander unable to speak, or move, or even breathe.

Ander quickly stood up, jogging to the kitchen, grabbing Omar’s hand and pulling Omar back towards his grandparents with him.

“Omar is my husband. We’ve been together for almost nine years and we got married two years ago and if you can’t accept that then I don’t want you in my home. In our home.” Ander stood defiantly staring at Camilla and Mateo with a huge smile on his face. He no longer cared what they though or how they reacted as Omar squeezed his hand and looked at him with pure love and admiration.

“Well, in that case I think it’s best if we leave.” Camilla said standing and avoiding Ander’s gaze before making her way to the door. “I’ll be waiting in the car and we’ll be leaving once we’ve collected our things. I can’t believe you knew about this Azucena.” She hissed out her last sentence and with that, she was gone. It wasn’t as if Ander hadn’t expected that exact reaction but it still hurt and he felt a shot of pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry Mama.” Ander said as he turned towards Azucena who pulled him into a tight hug.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’ll all be fine.” She whispered as she stroked her sons hair and squeezed him tightly. “I should probably go and talk to her.” Azucena made her way towards the front door, grabbing her coat, and making her way out of the apartment. It was now silent. Omar wanted to hug and reassure Ander, as did Guzman and Nadia but the three of them were all put off by the presence of Mateo who was yet to leave, however the reason for his remaining presence was unknown and it was something that was making Ander increasingly nervous with every moment that passed.

Mateo stood slowly and made his way over to Ander. He then wrapped his arms around Ander’s form and hugged him. Ander was in shock as his grandfather was never one to hug him, or anyone else for that matter.

“I’m proud of you.” Said Mateo “I know how hard that must have been for you especially considering our religion portrays us as not particularly accepting people but I’ve had time to come to terms with it and to understand it.”

“But……. how?” Was all Ander could manage now that his grandad had released him.

“Well I tried to ignore it at first, all those years ago, but it gets to a point where some things are hard to ignore. The way that you two were looking at each other on Sunday, that was a look of love, not friendship. I expect it was easier for your grandma to ignore it, people tend to ignore the things that they don’t want to see. But don’t worry, she’ll come around eventually, it just might take her a while, that’s all.” Mateo reached his hand out towards Omar and Omar shook his hand gently, still shocked at Mateo’s speech, “It was lovely to meet you Omar, I’m glad that you make my grandson as happy as he is.” and with that he was gone.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” Was the only thing that Ander could come up with at that moment. The other three just shook their heads, not sure what to say about the old, Catholic, white man having just accepted his gay grandson.

Of course, Guzman was the one to break the silence saying, “Well, it could have gone worse.” which, for some reason, made them all burst into laughter.

“Hey,” Omar said having regained his composure and turned towards Ander, “you did it. You came out to them, now it’s up to them. They have to decide what they want to do, and if your grandma can’t accept it then that is not your fault.”

Ander couldn’t find any words so instead he just grabbed the back of Omar’s neck and crashed their lips together. The kiss was getting deeper and deeper and Guzman and Nadia felt extremely awkward.

“Okayyyyy, I think that’s our cue to leave.” Nadia said with a hint of a smile on her face as she grabbed Guzman by the hand and dragged him out of the apartment.

Meanwhile Ander had grabbed Omar’s waist and started walking backwards towards the bedroom, their lips still interlocked. They entered the bedroom and Ander felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed just before he fell back on it, Omar quickly climbing on top of him. Omar was about to start kissing him again when Ander put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I love you.” Was all Ander said as he stared into the beautiful hazel of Omar’s eyes.

“I love you too.” Omar replied before he began to kiss Ander all over again. This, this was all Ander needed. He didn’t need his grandparents, he didn’t need a wife, he didn’t even need a job because the only thing that truly mattered to him was Omar and as long as Omar was here, with him, then everything would be perfect, always.

Thanks for reading! Like, comment and reblog! <3

#omander #omar x ander #ander x omar #elite #elite fanfiction #omander fanfiction #elite netflix #elite fanfic #ander munoz #omar shana #guzman nunier #guzman x nadia #nadia shana #nuzman

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hoffkk · 5 years ago

Text

The Best is Yet to Come

A Brightwell Fanfic

Story By: @hoffkk

Prompt: Gimme a starting question, and I’ll give you a brightwell fic that ends with a kiss!

Question: What do you think I’m doing here? from @officerparker

Summary: When Malcolm and Dani become engaged, his mother gets a little overzealous with the wedding planning. The couple is grateful but also annoyed and at a loss. How does one stop Hurricane Jessica?

**********

"Mother, what are you doing here?" Malcolm asked curiously. He wasn't expecting her arrival this morning, yet here she was just letting herself right into his apartment as classy and sassy as ever.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Jessica retorted exasperatedly. Not waiting for a response, she quickly added, "I'm here to plan the wedding of course."

Sitting at the counter next to Dani drinking coffee, he shared a confused look with his new fiancée then flicked his gaze back to his mother and replied, "We literally just got engaged two days ago."

"Exactly. We're all ready a full day behind," She noted, moving forward with her designer handbag in one hand and a large paper shopping bag in the other. "and if this is going to be the event of the season, we must begin preparations as soon as possible. Speaking of... what season were you two thinking of getting married in?"

"We haven't really gotten that far." Dani told her.

"Oh, no matter, we should really pick the location first and then see what they have open over the next year," Jessica said with a wave of the hand. "which reminds me, I took the liberty of making a few calls yesterday to the trendiest wedding venues in the city and..." She continued to rant as she walked off toward the living room to put down her bags and get out her phone. Malcolm rolled his eyes then mouthed "Sorry" to Dani who just smirked and gestured with her head to follow. Heading down the hall with their coffee, they all sat down on the couch as Jessica looked at the notes on her cell and listed off the venues she had called and the dates available. After much discussion, they settled on the Tribeca Rooftop. It had the wow factor that Jessica wanted, and Dani liked the idea of an outdoor wedding, especially after looking at the pictures of the location in a wedding magazine that Jessica had brought with her. As for Malcolm, he was happy as long as both of the women were happy. With this decision made, his mother made a call to book the location. Next, Jessica grabbed the shopping bag she had brought and pulled out a fancy white board with white ribbons stretched across it, creating an elegant diamond pattern.

"This is the wedding vision board." She smiled as she handed it over to Dani.

"Vision board?" Dani queried with a quirk of the brow as she passed the magazine to Malcolm and took the board.

"Every time we make a decision, we add it to the board under one of the ribbons to create the perfect vision of the perfect wedding." Pausing a moment, Jessica grabbed the wedding magazine from Malcolm and her scissors from her purse. Then, after some tearing and cutting, she slid a small picture of the rooftop between two ribbons in the center of the board. "There. Brilliant." She went on, admiring her handiwork. "Now, let's talk about color scheme." The discussion went on for a couple hours as they talked colors, flowers, and food. The latter brought up the question of the head count for the wedding. When his mom was talking about inviting over 300 people, Malcolm knew he had to put an end to her madness but didn't know how. Then, like a miracle from heaven, his phone rang. Hastily pulling it from his pocket, he answered after the first ring, "Hey, Gil. Good to hear from you, buddy. What's up? A case? Uh huh, of course. We'll be right there. Bye."

"Malcolm, you can't leave now." His mother grumbled unhappily.

"If there's a case, we don't have a choice." Dani told her. "Don't worry, we will finish this conversation later."

"We better. The wedding is in 8 months, and we've got a lot of work to do." Jessica told them.

"Right. Why don't you head home and work on the guest list then? You make your own, and we will make our own, then we can cross reference them later this week." Malcolm suggested.

"Fine." Jessica huffed. "I suppose that will work. Oh, and I want to make an appointment at Kleinfeld 's Bridal, so you need to decide on the wedding party ASAP, okay?"

"Will do." Malcolm nodded.

"All right, go do whatever it is you guys do to get ready for work. I'll show myself out." Then, grabbing her purse, she gave a wave and an air kiss then called out, "Ta-ta for now, my darlings."

The couple stood and returned Jessica's goodbye as they watched her head back to the front of the apartment and out the front door. Once the door shut behind his mother, Malcolm sank back down to the sofa and breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank god."

"What are you doing? We have to get going." Dani said crossing her arms and staring down at her fiancé as he ran his hands through his hair and leaned back.

Resting his feet on the coffee table, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away a small headache that was beginning to form. After second, he replied casually, "No, we don't. That was just Ainsley."

"What?" Dani questioned, feeling puzzled.

"I lied to get my mom to leave." He explained.

"Wow. Thats..." She trailed off, coming to sit beside him before finishing. "one of the sweetest things you've ever done. Thank you."

Malcolm felt her warm lips against his cheek and suddenly felt much better. Opening his eyes and dropping his hand, he inquired, "So, you're not mad."

"No." Dani assured. "Don't get me wrong, your mom was being very helpful, but she was also a little..."

"Intense? Neurotic?" He suggested.

With a smirk, she shook her head at him then amended, "I was gonna say overwhelming."

"Yeah, well, Jessica Whitly is nothing if not a planner, all the way down to the very last detail." Malcolm assured. "And when she sinks her perfectly manicured claws into a project, she really gets into it, especially if it involves me."

"Clearly." Dani retorted, staring at the nearby upholstered chair that currently displayed their vision board which was exploding with magazine clippings now. "I mean, knew wedding's were a lot, but Whitly weddings are A LOT a lot."

"Don't worry, I'll talk to her." He told her as he moved his feet back to the floor and threaded their fingers together."I'll tell her to back off and let us make the decisions. In fact, just say the word, and I can tell her we changed our minds about everything we decided today."

"No. Don't do that." She tossed back. "I like our plans."

"Really?" Malcolm challenged skeptically. "Because I know you, Dani Powell, and grand events aren't exactly your style. You can't really want a fancy rooftop wedding with over 300 people."

"The concept isn't terrible." Dani replied vaguely, not wanting to admit that he was right. "Besides, it made your mom so happy when I agreed with her suggestions."

"But this wedding isn't about her." He argued. "It's about us."

"I know." She nodded, pulling his hand into her lap and sandwiching it between her own. "But I also know your mom has been through hell ever since your dad's arrest twenty years ago and deserves to finally have something good to celebrate. You all do. So, let her plan her heart out and create an amazing celebration as big as she wants. She'll be happy, and it'll make everything much easier for us in the long run."

Malcolm looked into her warm brown eyes and smiled at how incredible she was. He never thought about the wedding that way, but Dani, as usual, was right. Happy occasions were in much shorter supply for the Whitly family than most. They had been since he was ten. So, now that these joyful moments were coming around more often, they owed it to themselves to make the most of them. Needing to be certain about her stance on this though, he asked in confirmation, "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Dani smiled back. "Honestly, this may not be the wedding I always pictured, but there is only one detail that really matters to me."

"What's that?" Malcolm questioned with a tilt of the head, trying to read her expression.

"You, waiting for me at the end of the aisle." She smiled affectionately, meaning every word. It was true. Jessica could do whatever she wanted... release 1,000 doves, dress her like a cupcake, invite all of New York City... it didn't matter. As long as the end game was marrying Malcolm, she'd be happy, truly, blissfully happy.

"Done." He beamed with pleasure before closing the gap between them and kissing her slowly and deeply to seal the promise.

Dani responded in kind, cupping the side of his face with her free hand. After a long moment, she pulled back and stared into his sapphire gaze as she stroked his cheek tenderly with her thumb. Not wanting the moment to end, Dani bit her lip then said, "You know, we should probably do that again... as practice for the big day."

With a cheeky grin Malcolm countered, "Or we could practice for the big night."

Her smile widened and amusement lit her eyes as she replied, "We could do that."

Without hesitation, Malcolm moved in one quick fluid motion, lifting Dani from the couch bridal style. She squealed in surprise and giggled in delight as he headed down the hall and across the threshold of the bedroom. If being engaged was this wonderful, Dani couldn't wait to be married. Starting a life with Malcolm was definitely going to be the best thing that ever happened to her. Yes, the best was definitely yet to come.

#prodigal son #prodigal son fanfic #brightwell #brightwell fanfic #malcolm bright #dani powell #jessica whitly #mother of the groomzilla #fluff and humor #dash of smut #romantic fluff #wedding planning

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afteriwake · 4 years ago

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(Banner by @strangelock221b)

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures - It all begins with an invitation to Mycroft’s wedding to his PA and seven days at a resort in Jamaica, with the assumption that Molly pretends to be his girlfriend that his mother might be under the impression that he’s going to propose to sooner rather than later. It ends up being so much more than that…

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 5 | BUY ME A COFFEE?

It wasn’t until they had arrived at the airport that he realized just how wonderful an actress Molly really was. She was not quite as she had been the last two nights, when there had been plenty of “practice” for them to act as a couple, practice he had quite enjoyed, but she stayed close, always keeping a hand of hers in his or on his arm, smiling brightly at the assorted members of the families who would be traveling with them and, at least for a first impression, pulling off the charade quite nicely. Not that he found it hard to play along; with Molly being the lead in most of the interactions, he simply followed and reacted accordingly.

He was only thankful this group of guests were the ones from London and his parents were not among them. That was the introduction he was dreading the most, as while he was sure his parents would adore Molly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the “impending” engagement questions just yet. His mother was as tenacious as he was when she wanted something, and what she wanted was the sons she was still talking to to give her grandchildren. She’d succeeded with Mycroft, so now all her attention would be on him.

They settled into their seats on the plane and Molly leaned over with her mouth near his ear. “That seemed to go well,” she said quietly.

“They were an easier audience to trick than my parents will be,” he murmured back.

“Oh, I think your mum will love me,” she said with a smile before kissing his cheek and then reaching for the book she’d taken out of her handbag to read. Molly didn’t quite realize that was among the problems with this charade: his mother would absolutely adore her and when it eventually came time to explain how the relationship had ended, he would be a disappointment in her eyes. Maybe not as much as his eldest brother was, but enough that it would make things decidedly more frosty between them.

Of course, as long as he wasn’t as despised as Sherrinford, he supposed he could tolerate a bit of a cold shoulder from his parents.

He settled further into his seat. It wasn’t often he thought of his eldest brother. There was usually no real reason to. The age difference between the two of them was considerable enough that Sherrinford had been nearly a teenager when he was born, and Mycroft not that far behind. He was considered a blessing by his parents, and a burden to Mycroft, but Sherrinford had never really liked him much, as far as he could tell. Sherrinford was the one in the family who had gotten the innate ability to make people at ease almost immediately, a skill his father had not managed to pass down to either he or Mycroft. It seemed his mother’s brilliance had skipped Sherrinford as a result, and he despised his younger siblings for being the one their mother was proudest of.

To this day he still wasn’t entirely sure of what had caused the rift between his parents and his eldest brother, but he knew it had to do with a large sum of money disappearing from accounts and Sherrinford scampering off in the middle of the night. It was never discussed even when he asked, time and again, and eventually, he simply stopped asking. It was the one mystery he’d decided not to solve in his entire life because, really, he was glad Sherrinford was gone. He had never liked the way Sherrinford treated him, and while his life was not necessarily better once he was gone, it was easier, at least.

He decided he’d done enough ruminating on the past once the plane began its ascent into the air. It had been some time since he was able to fully relax on a trip away from England, probably since early on in his association with John. The trip to Karachi had been fraught with danger and getting Irene to relative safety had been his tantamount priority, and obviously working on destroying the web Moriarty had woven had not been easy of safe. And then the last time he had been on a plane he had purposefully overdosed so that he could concentrate on the case in his head. Whether he had made it to Russia alive had been of little consequence, as he had more drugs on hand in case he’d had to finish the trip, but he was grateful for the second chance.

Not that he would ever admit that, of course.

He’d been surly when it was over, and only dropped the attitude when it had been decided Molly would be there during his withdrawal. He hadn’t seen her since before he had shot Magnussen, and the fact she wasn’t more angry at him for overdosing had been surprising, considering the scene in the lab. But she was there when no one else was, and he’d decided if she would be with him through the worst of it, he would make things better between them. And it was a promise he had done a good enough job keeping since they were in the position they were in now. He doubted even for a trip to Jamaica for free that she would agree to be his girlfriend and potential fiancee, unless possibly it had been for a case.

Still, he should have recognized long before the first night in Baker Street for this charade that his feeling had changed. When they had been curled up on the sofa and she had leaned in for their first kiss, he had been fairly sure he had made a mistake. And he knew he had for certain when she kissed him because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to simply being friends, not after this week. Either he would try his best to convince her to make the fiction a reality, or he would lose the most important person in his life.

Of course, her mixed signals, vacillating between the breakup quip and then the simple kiss on the cheek now did nothing to help him figure out which direction she might go in. Logic was of no help, and they still had the entire week to go. He tried slipping into his mind palace to focus on things related to cases he had abandoned for the week, but he kept turning to look at Molly, completely immersed in her book. He knew that that image was going to be a sight frequently seen in his mind palace for a long time to come.

He hadn’t managed to settle anything in his head by the time they had arrived in Jamaica, and he was a bit cranky when they were deboarded and put into cars to get to the resort. Molly had barely taken her eyes off the book she was reading, and continued to read in the car they shared with his Uncle Harrington.

Of all the members of his family that he had contact with, this particular uncle was the only one he rather liked. His Uncle Rudy had favoured Mycroft, and no one at all had really liked Sherrinford, as far as he could tell, but it had been his Uncle Harrington who had fostered his love of deductive reasoning, sending hard to find books on any subject Sherlock wished from either his own private collection or those of friends and colleagues. There were books that were worth thousands of pounds at Baker Street because Harrington had never asked for them to be returned, always saying you would never know when you needed a good book, and as a literature professor at Oxford, he supposed Harrington knew that lesson well.

“You picked a woman who likes to read,” Harrington said, his voice laced with approval.

“I did,” Sherlock said, relaxing. This would be easy to talk about. He had found Molly’s sterling qualities were something he could expound on for quite a while if needed. He was sure John and Mary were tired of his talking about her, at least. “She has a personal library in her home. Not a large one, but the contents are varied.”

“Medical texts, classical literature, modern pulpy romances, and a few other goodies,” Molly said as she turned in the seat in front of them to join the conversation. She gave Harrington a smile. “Sherlock mentioned you gave him quite a few of the books he has now?”

Harrington nodded. “Mycroft and Sherrinford were interested in learning certain things. William wanted to learn everything. You don’t squander a mind like that by not feeding it with sufficient knowledge.”

Sherlock glowered slightly at the use of his real name but Molly simply nodded. “Oh yes. A beautiful brain like his would go to waste if it was starved in such an unnecessary way.”

Harrington’s smile back at her got brighter. “It’s good to see we see eye to eye,” he replied.

“We certainly do.”

Sherlock watched the two of them launch into a conversation about him and he listened with only mild embarrassment. It was one thing to think highly of himself, but it was another to hear two people discuss him in such high regard. He wasn’t used to that; while he knew Mary adored him, she didn’t have these kinds of discussions with her husband in front of him. Lestrade usually didn’t need to defend him anymore so he didn’t, and while he was used to Molly saying a few kind words, this was different. Perhaps he had made up for the trouble he had caused her after all.

By the time they arrived at the resort Harrington and Molly were quite deep in a conversation about the intricacies of Austen’s works, and it was because he had tuned out their conversation he saw his brother exit out of his car with a smile that quickly dropped to a scowl. It only took seconds for his attention to shift in the same direction, and he knew his own expression was similar.

“Brother dear,” Sherrinford Holmes said from where he had been smoking a cigarette. Then he spotted Sherlock as well. “And you too.”

“Sherrinford,” Mycroft said, his tone steely. “Why are you here?”

“Mummy invited me, as an attempt to mend some broken fences,” he said. “She’s getting settled but you know me.” He held up the cigarette. “Bad habit.”

“Bloody hell,” Sherlock heard his uncle say quietly as Sherlock reached over for Molly’s hand.

“Who is that?” Molly asked.

“My eldest brother,” he said, watching as Sherrinford’s gaze swept back to him and then to Molly. His eyes widened and then got brighter, and Sherlock decided then and there he would show Molly was not to be looked at in that way by anyone other than him. He turned to face her and leaned in, kissing her soundly, feeling her knees buckle slightly as he set his hands on her waist to keep her up. When she pulled away to catch her breath she looked up at him, speechless. “Why don’t you and Andrea go find out where we’re staying in the resort?”

Molly caught on quickly, giving him a dazzling smile as she went in for her own kiss, giving him one that was nearly as breathtaking as it was unexpected. “I’ll make sure the bed is adequate,” she said with a wink in Sherrinford’s direction before she and Andrea headed inside.

“So the tabloids weren’t lying?” Sherrinford asked with a smirk. “Wonder how you kept her under wraps. She’s got quite a nice...” His smirk widened.

“Go back to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in,” Mycroft said, his tone more flat and hostile than before.

“And miss out on the wedding of my brother? Never,” he said. “Get used to it, Mycroft. I’m here and I think I’d like to have a bit of fun.” He walked away from his brothers then, putting his cigarette to his lips and inhaling.

Mycroft moved closer to Sherlock as their uncle made his way in the same direction the women had. “He’s trouble,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, he always was,” Mycroft said. “I think we’ll need to put aside our pettiness and make sure he doesn’t do anything that will ruin this for any of us.” Mycroft held out his hand to Sherlock. “Agreed?”

Sherlock nodded, shaking his brother’s hand. “Agreed.” Just what neither of them needed, he thought to himself. Complications...

#sherlock #sherlolly #mythea #fanfic #fanfiction #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #mycroft holmes #ocs #multipart: desperate times call for desperate measures

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freddie-roger-brian-john · 5 years ago

Text

And they were roommates

A/N - sorry @casafrass , I accidentally deleted your request but here we are, a classic bed sharing fic. (Btw sorry if there isn’t a read more link, tumblr being weird atm. I know having to scroll past really long posts is annoying whoop)

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, cliche

Word count - 4K (longest one yet ahh)

Pairing - Joe!John Deacon x f!reader

——————

It was just one of those days. It was a day where everything little thing had gone wrong. Y/N had slept through her alarm, lost her hairbrush, her makeup hadn't come out right, the snow had soaked through her shoes, arrived at the airport late, almost missed her flight, was seated next to a mother and crying child, and the turbulence had felt like the plane was going to go down.

She was at the point where the smallest thing, even something like the strap of her handbag falling off her shoulder, would've caused tears to fill her eyes.

But, she was in America for a good reason - at least, that's what she kept telling herself. She's here to attend a joyous event where the only crying should be that of extreme glee for the two people standing at the alter.

[[MORE]]

One of her best friends, Roger Taylor, was getting married to her other best friend. She knew she was going to be maid of honour before the bride to be had even asked and so, she had accepted with grin and anticipation for the big day.

But now? Now she was wishing the pair could've just gotten married back in London.

"Oh thank god, you're here!" Roger called out as he saw Y/N walk through the hotel doors, snow in her hair, luggage in her hands, and a grimace on her face. The porter took her suitcase and bags from her and, once she was free from the burden of travelling with a 'just in case' attitude, Roger brought her into a hug.

"Christ, your coat's soaked through," he commented as her clothes sent a shiver down his spine. "You must be freezing."

"You have no idea," she told him. "The snow's up to my knees now. Why the hell did you have to have a winter wedding? Why couldn't you have gotten married in the spring like everyone else."

He smiled teasingly at your obviously horrid mood.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" He grinned. "Here, take my jacket." He took off his fur coat and, after Y/N had peeled off her own, wrapped it around her. It immediately sent warmth running up and down her body and Roger could practically hear the 'thank you' in her closed eyes and soft smile.

"And how's the fiancée?" Y/N asked. Roger's smile fell.

"Ah, well, a little stressed to be completely honest with you," he admitted. "Your's was the last flight to land here. The snow's gotten so bad that nothing else is taking off or landing."

"Shit," she said in response. "Are most of the guests here?"

"Well yes, but unfortunately that causes a whole other problem," Roger explained. "With all the people stranded in the airport and such a big party taking up rooms in the hotel, some people are going to have to double up."

This was it. This was the small thing that was going to make her cry. She shook her head, eyes to the sky, and tried to hold back.

"Well that's great," she huffed. "Please tell me I've got a decent roommate." Roger shrugged.

"The hotel's done it randomly to make things easier," he told her. "Thankfully, me and the future wife got a room together so we're all good."

"So I've most likely got a random tourist to cosy up with?" Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes with exhaustion.

"You might get a fellow guest?" Roger tried to offer some comfort. "What room are you in? I might know who's with you." Y/N doubted her luck would be that good after such a dismal day.

"Room 46," she said, no hope evident in her voice. Roger's eyes widened. "What?"

"Nothing," He assured her, though he sounded like a child who had just been caught stealing a biscuit.

"Roger," she said sternly. He sighed, his wide eyes closing.

"I don't want to say," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hit me."

But Y/N knew who it was. She could see the answer in Roger's apprehensive stance. She could tell from the way he almost coward away from her.

Her roomie was John Deacon.

She walked right passed Roger, her shoulder accidentally hitting his as she stormed off towards the lift that would take her to the room of her nightmares.

If there was a stairway to heaven, then this was definitely her elevator to hell.

When she opened the door to room 46, Mr Deacon himself was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, facing the window. He turned at the sound of the door slamming.

"No," he said upon seeing Y/N, her hair still soaked in snow and dawning Roger's fur coat. "No fucking way, there no chance-"

"Yeah, think like that for about five minutes and you'll be where I am right now," she huffed.

John's face fell into his hands.

The pair hadn't always hated each other. In fact, there had been a time, right after Roger had introduced the two of them, where most people would've bet good money that they would start dating. However, things, as they do often do, didn't go to plan.

Conversation had turned to bickering, bickering had turned into arguments, and eventually, the two couldn't even be in the same room without screaming at each other over seemingly the smallest things. As she looked at John now, she couldn't help but recall the time she had dropped an ice cube in his kitchen, which he then accidentally stepped in with socks on. She thought she might have gone deaf with the screaming match that had led to.

Y/N didn't even know how their friendship had disintegrated. It had been like someone had flipped a switch in their minds. Her love for the boy had turned into our hatred and she knew he felt the same.

"Is there no way we can switch with someone?" John asked, his voice almost pleading. Y/N wanted to think that was a possibility but she knew the hotel staff would be too busy to sort something out and all the guests would be far to exhausted to move any belongings to a different room.

"I don't think there's enough money in the world to convince someone to share with you," she told him. He rolled his eyes.

"Good one," he said sarcastically. "And people wonder why I don't like you."

"Oh please," she said, "enlighten me." He looked at her with red burning through the brown of his eyes.

"Well it's not exactly going to be because of your winning personality, is it?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh just shut it," Y/N huffed, throwing off Roger's coat and hanging it up. "Look, all we have to do is spend one night in the same room. Assuming the blizzard doesn't snow us in, we'll be out by tomorrow and then all we have to do is get to the wedding without killing each other or ourselves."

"Fine," He said. "You can just stay on your side of the room and I'll stay on mine."

"Fine." Y/N went to set her things down on her bed but the sight before her instead acting as the breaking point.

She started to cry.

"Fuck!" She shouted. "Fuck everything! Fuck the wedding, fuck the hotel, fuck mother-fucking-nature!"

"What? What is it?" John demanded, jumping to his feet, the ghost of actual concern on his face.

"Fucking look around, you idiot!" She shouted. John did a 360' of the room and quickly saw what had pushed Y/N over the edge.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, his head returning to his hands. "You've got to be fucking kidding!"

Yep, that's right. There was only one bed.

"Right, I get that it's shitty but there no need to cry over it," John told her.

If looks could kill, John Deacon would have been decapitated in that moment.

He actually took a step backwards. That's how much Y/N glared at him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," John continued, his voice however, considerably softer. "You take the bed, they've probably got some extra blankets at the front desk."

The glare smashed like a dropped wine glass.

"Where are you gonna sleep?" She asked him, confused by this sudden act of generosity of John's part. He shrugged.

"I'll be fine on the floor," he told her.

How was this the same man from a minute before? The John she knew would fight her to the death for the better seat on a couch, never mind a bed to sleep in.

"You can't sleep on the floor," she said.

"You got a better idea?"

Y/N couldn't believe she was even considering this. She looked at the bed and then back at John.

"I mean, it is a double bed," she said. "It's not like we wouldn't be able to both fit on it?"

John seemed to be going through the same motion that she had when he had offered to sleep on the floor.

"What? You mean share it?" He asked. She nodded, though it felt like a helium balloon had been tied to her head to try and stop it from shaking up and down. "I mean, I guess."

She sighed. She had been secretly hoping he wouldn't take her up on her offer.

"Sure," He said more confidently. "I really didn't want to sleep on the floor." Y/N's brows furrowed.

"Then why did you offer?" John shrugged.

"Right thing to do, I suppose."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't quite sure how she felt about the whole situation. However, her exhaustion outweighed her confusion and mixed emotions. She clapped her hands together.

"Right then," she said. "I'm gonna go get changed into my pyjamas. I'll be back in a sec."

She brought her bag with her into the small bathroom and set it down on the counter so she could look through it.

"No," she muttered to herself. There was no way she could be so stupid as to leave all but one pair of pyjamas in her bedroom back in London. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

She held up the only pair she had brought.

Every girl has a special outfit that she wears to make herself feel better. Or perhaps it was a pretty bra or a particularly lacy thong that managed to be as comfortable as it was lovely. For Y/N, she had a pair of pyjamas. They were her 'I'm sexy and I know it' pyjamas.

They were comprised of shorts that were basically pants, and a top that was basically a bra. The fabric was a thin satin with lace around the hems and to top it all off, they were pink.

She looked at herself in the mirror. These were pyjamas only a girl and her partner should see. Not a girl and her old frenemy.

However, it was all she had.

She stepped out of the bathroom to find John standing in a baggy shirt, his thick pyjama bottoms hidden breath the covers of the bed. He did a double take when he saw her.

"Sorry," she said before he could comment. "I didn't think I'd be sharing a bed with someone so this is all I have."

John shook his head.

"No, it's..." he shook his head as if to clear it. "It's fine."

Although Y/N was extremely embarrassed by the whole situation, she did find a little amusement in the redness of John's cheeks as she climbed into bed next to him.

John turned off the lamp by his side of the bed and the two were plunged into darkness. They both made sure to stay as far away from each other as possible, John almost fell of the bed at one point.

Although it would've been difficult for him to fall asleep regardless, what made things far more difficult was something that he couldn't help but notice.

Y/N was shaking almost uncontrollably. He could tell she was trying to hold back her movement but to unfortunately no avail. As he looked at her more closely, he saw goosebumps all over her skin.

And then her teeth began to chatter.

"Fucking hell," John muttered to himself, causing the still conscious Y/N to open her eyes.

"What?" She asked, a scowl becoming evident on her face.

"Can't you keep still?" He asked her, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's pretty tricky to sleep with you shivering like that."

"It's not like you can control shivering," she spat back.

"But I can't sleep with you moving," he complained. She too propped herself up and looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"What d'you want me to do about it?" She demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, it's fucking freezing and these pyjamas aren't exactly helping."

"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to leave all your others at home," he muttered to himself.

"Oh my god!" Y/N groaned. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear your complaining or your nitpicking, or your judging! I'm sick of it, John!" She sat up fully and sighed into her hands. "I can't do this."

She swung her legs off the bed and grabbed her pillow.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Well I can't sleep on this bed with you, can I?" She said. "Can't have me ruining your beauty sleep, can we? God forbid I'm a little cold."

He watched as she set her pillow down on the floor and laid her head down on it. She then closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep. John would've let her stay down there had it not been for the guilt in his chest as he heard her teeth chattering even louder than before. He peered over the edge of the bed and saw her shivering so much that the friction against the carpet could've lit a small fire.

"You can't sleep on the floor," John finally said.

"Yes I can."

"You're freezing," he pointed out. "Just come back to the bed and get under the covers."

"But then you'll be distracted by my shivering," she said. "I know how annoying this must be for you." John actually had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from snapping back. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down.

"Look," He said. "Just come back into the bed." She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her.

"Say please," she told him. John could feel his face getting hotter.

"Please," He said through gritted teeth. She smirked, finally having won a small battle. As promised, she climbed back under the covers, feeling as smug as was possible in this temperature.

But the smugness quickly froze on her face and fell like an icicle from a gutter.

"John," she said, her voice quiet. John opened his eyes and stared at the back of her head.

"What is it now?"

She took a deep breath. "Please know I'm only saying this because I'm just that fucking cold," she told him. John raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm just thinking that maybe if we were a bit closer, our body heat would warm us both up a little."

"Oh," John faltered. "Right - um - I suppose that makes sense." Y/N could feel the mattress move and he shifted closer to her. "Um... you mean like this?" He was lying behind her, his chest a few inches from her back.

"Um, not exactly," she said. "I kind of meant like..." she screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "Like spooning."

If John had been drinking, he would've spat it out.

"Spooning?"

"Yeah. I know you've probably never had the opportunity to do it before but-"

"Oh shut up," he said. But for some reason, this time her teasing remark made him smile. He quickly replaced the smile with a scowl just in case she turned around.

"Well?" She asked. John sighed. He was really cold as well, though he was better at hiding it.

"Fine," He said, wrapping an arm around her. They both immediately felt the warmth of the other. John couldn't help but notice how much bare skin he was touching.

"Thanks," she muttered, silently hoping he hadn't heard her.

"No problem."

Before the pair had grown to hate each other, they had spent countless nights in the same position. No, they never dated technically, but it would be impossible to count the amount of nights they decided it was too late to go home and so, decided to stay over at the other's house.

Y/N's mind immediately went to the last time they had done it. Of course, at the time she hadn't known it she wouldn't be held by John for years to come. She wished she had cherished those nights more. And she hoped John felt the same.

It was so comfortable. It felt as though the pair had never fallen out. Y/N supposed if they hadn't, this might've been their wedding instead of Roger's.

"Y/N," John whispered. "Is everything alright?"

She quickly wiped the tear that had slipped from her eyes and onto the arm that had been placed beneath her head in a way that John found far too familiar.

She shook her head in response to his question.

John couldn't help but feel complete concern. Years of arguments seemed to slip his mind as her turned her around to face him. She was hiding her face behind her hands, sobs now accompanying the tears.

"Sorry," she choked out.

"No, don't be sorry," John told her as he wrapped her up in his arms. "It's ok, you're ok." He wasn't quite sure what to do. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

She pulled back from him slightly so she could look at him. His brows were furrowed and his eyes read nothing but concern.

The words that followed broke John's heart.

"Why do you hate me?"

He had no idea what to say.

"Because it wasn't me who started all this, John," she continued. "It was you. You started getting annoyed at every little thing and I didn't know what to do so I just shouted back."

"I... I don't know-"

"Yes you do," she said, not taking any lies. "You've got a reason, you just won't tell me." John looked down.

"Well, what's your reason?" He asked her. She rolled her teary eyes.

"My reason?" She asked. "John, I hate you because you hate me."

He completely broke.

He hid his face in his hands and he just sobbed. Y/N was shocked. She had never seen John cry. In all the years she had known him, he had never shed as much as a tear. So she stared at him with wide teary eyes.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm so fucking sorry." Now Y/N was the one who was lost for words.

"What are you sorry about?" She asked, unsure what else to say.

"I made you believe I hate you," he explained. "I don't. I could never."

He didn't hate her. Y/N could feel herself tearing up again.

"Then why did you-"

"I was scared," he told her. "Everyone was telling me I should ask you out but you were always going on dates with other guys and I- I couldn't take it. I was in love with you but you didn't love me back. At least, not in that way."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. John Deacon has been in love with her?

"And I could never tell you how I felt because i knew the feeling wasn't mutual," he continued. "So I started pushing you away like an idiot. Everything kept escalating and suddenly it I had gone too far. There was no getting our friendship back so I just kept going. I never wanted to shout at you and I was never really angry. I was just sad and pathetic and I'm so fucking sorry."

Y/N sat up, breaking free from John's arms. She stared ahead of her, looking out of the window to come face to face with the blizzard that had trapped her here.

John rose to a sitting position extremely hesitantly. It was as if he was worried any fast movements would send her running. But John didn't look out of the window. He didn't focus on the snowfall as Y/N did. Instead, he looked at her. The warm, faint light from the bathroom made her profile look golden. To John, it was like she was glowing. And he? He was in her shadow, dark and ashamed.

"Is it a joke?" She finally whispered.

John's mouth opened. Did she really think he was trying to play a trick or embarrass her? He had just poured his heart out in front of her. Despite that, he just said,

"No."

She still didn't look at him, but she seemed less tense as he said what he said.

"And," she said, "you said that you loved me."

"Yes."

"Loved. As in... past tense?"

Deciding to commit fully to his confession, John brought his hand up to her cheek. His fingertips were barely touching her, but they managed to pull her stare from the window and to him.

"No."

Y/N let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. It came out all shuddery and delicate. "And you promise you're not just trying to make me look like an idiot?" She asked.

"Y/N, look at me," he told her. He was centimetres from her face, he needed to get the message across. But now that he was staring right at her, he could feel his face heating up. "I love you."

"I..." Y/N looked like the words were stuck in her throat. But even just the first syllable made John's heart soar. She felt the same, she was going to tell him! Years of arguments were about to all be swept under the rug.

"I need some sleep."

She took his wrist and gently pulled his hand away from her face.

"What?"

"I just need some time to process all this," she explained.

"What's to process? I just told you how I felt," John said back, clearly frustrated.

"John, we've not been friends for years," she said. "And you're expecting me to forget every argument just like that? What, did you think we were just gonna sweep everything under the rug?"

John knew her cheeks were red. He felt so fucking stupid, so silly. He shook his head.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry. I'll let you sleep on it and everything. I know you're tired."

She nodded and lay back down, facing away from John.

He wasn't taking that as a good sign. But there was nothing more to be said so he just lay down behind her, feeling lighter than he had a few minutes ago.

"Deaky?" He heard her whisper after a few moments of silence. His heart lurched.

"Yes?"

"I'm still cold."

John smiled. He smiled so warmly that it alone could've heated up the girl in the silky jammies.

He wrapped an arm around her and, in no time, they were both asleep.

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please reblog and give me some feedback! (Or just reblog))

#john deacon #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #x reader #joe mazzello #joe mazzello!john deacon #there was only one bed #fanfiction cliche #bed sharing #red writes

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lubdubsworld · 6 years ago

Text

Unloved. ( Jungkookx OC)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 ~

“I think we should start the teasers this week. They’re ready, aren’t they?” Jennie Kim looked sharp as a dagger as she glared fiercely at the head of the editing department, who squeaked a little in surprise.

I watched as the grown man almost tripped as he scrambled off his seat , fingers getting caught in his tie when he tried to push a file across the mahogany table.

Jennie huffed, looking long-suffering and put upon as she flipped the file open , revealing some plastic filers, filled with portfolio shots for the week’s issue.

The head of the editing dept began to say something, only to have his voice crack. He cleared his throat before trying again.

“We have seven shortlisted. We can start with one of them ...” He said hastily and she stared at them with a critical eye before nodding.

“Send them to my desk later and I’ll pick the best one.” She turned around to stare at me, face unreadable, but a very shrewd glint in her eye. I managed to keep a straight face.

“You’ll be the one covering the story, Ms. Jung? ” She said politely and i swallowed.

Earlier that day, Jennie had dropped in to my office, looking calculative and guarded.

She told me that there was no compulsion for me to take this project from her side and she had been made aware of certain ‘ delicate ‘ issues between me and Jungkook . But she trusted me to rise above such ‘insignificant’ things and hoped i wouldn’t prove her wrong. It would be a shame to let such a ‘ senior’ writer ‘ go’ because of silly high school dramatics.

As far as threats went, it wasn’t a particularly subtle one.

But she had also assured me that if everything went well, this would put me in the spotlight for a promotion and maybe my own weekly column, no restrictions , no set topics. I could be my own boss.

My heart fluttered at the thought of an independent column, with my name on it. It definitely trumped getting fired and living on the streets.

“uh... Yes. i’m scheduled to meet Mr. Jeon and his fiancee in two days.” I smiled weakly and she hummed.

“Get a haircut.” She said thoughtfully.

I blinked.

“I...sorry?” I stared at her, certain I’d misheard.

“I think it would make the story more evocative if you put a personal spin to it. From your own point of view. You come from a, excuse my language, much plainer background than Mr. Jeon so it would be interesting to see your personal take on a luxurious wedding between two powerful people..”

She looked downright cruel as she smiled at me, teeth white and sharp.

I gripped my pencil a little harder.

“Of course.” I ducked my head.

The rest of the meeting went much the same way, me scribbling notes to make sure i didn’t deviate from the ‘ vision’ she had for the story. The phrases stung. She talked about how it was fitting that a man like Jungkook chose a woman like Kira. How marriages built on compatibility and a common goal were far more likely to survive and how it was important for two people to be made from the same ‘cloth’ to truly be good enough for each other.

By the time we were done , my head was spinning with regrets and my heart felt a little like it had been used as a punching bag. When i gathered my things to leave she gave me a tight-lipped smile.

“don’t forget what i said, Nara. If you keep it together the next six weeks, there’s a lot of good things heading your way. Don’t ruin it by making silly choices.”

I realized that she truly thought that I was going to try and sabotage the wedding somehow. The mere idea was laughable.

“Trust me Ms Kim , there is absolutely nothing personal in my relationship with Jungkook.” I said tiredly and she hummed.

“So they all say, Nara. Don’t forget the haircut. You’d look less like roadkill then.” She glanced disdainfully at my messy long hair. I stared after her, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

I wasn’t going to get a stupid haircut. This wasn’t my wedding and i wasn’t obligated to look good for anyone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up two hours early on the day i was scheduled to meet Jungkook and his fiancee for lunch. It was a little past five thirty in the morning and there was a thunderstorm raging outside. I dragged myself to the huge french windows on the corner of the living room, wrapping my blanket tighter around myself and peering out into the pouring rain.

I felt ..odd. Not angry or lonely per se, but just a little empty.

I was old. A lot older than what my nineteen year old self had deemed as ‘ old’.

Twenty nine was the age when...everything in my life was supposed to be already done and settled. Job, spouse, children , a house.

Everything.

Somehow reality had turned out to be a little different.

I was out on almost all counts. My job was fine, yes, but apparently i wasn’t as indispensable as I’d thought I was. It hung on this assignment .

My dating life was non-existent. It had been a little over eight and a half months since I’d been on a date . Almost two years since my last relationship , which could hardly be called that seeing as that hadn’t lasted even a full two weeks. The guy had been an exchange student just looking for a good time and had broken things off over a text . Over the next few months , I’d had a lot of mediocre to pretty average first or second dates but none of them had called back or made further advances.

In time I sort of gave up.

i gripped my hot mug of coffee and took a small sip.

“It’s okay.” i said out loud, watching my breath cloud the mirror in front of me. It was getting colder, although the sky was steadily brightening.

“It’s going to be okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jennie had told me that a camera crew would be accompanying me. Apparently, a very famous luxury lifestyle channel had picked up exclusive rights to run a small cover documentary on the couple and they would be having their own writers and producers and what not. Jennie assured me that they would stay out of my way , because the magazine article would be the priority.

But apparently, they’d roped in an award winning cinematographer from Busan, a young dynamic chap who wanted to give a ‘fresh twist’ to the story. Incidentally, the cinematographer's hotel was just a couple blocks away from my sister’s home.

So he had offered to pick me up on the way to the meeting.

I spent a few extra minutes getting ready. There wasn’t much point in fixing my hair, the humidity in the air would have its way with my messy curls anyway. I did pluck out a few errant hairs on my brow, adding a small bit of lipstick just to stop my lips from looking too lifeless.

I didn’t have a lot of bright or pretty clothes and I picked out a pale minty green dress with a stylish shoulder cape, a cinched waist and a pleated skirt that stopped just below my knee. I pulled a stool to the closet to rummage around in one of the top shelves, looking for the shoes my sister had got me for my graduation : cream- white strappy sandals with two inch kitten heels and dainty little stone studded flowers near the toes.

i stared at myself in the mirror, feeling stupid.

I had seen pictures of Kira Hirakuma .

I didn’t compare in any way or form.

What was i even doing? .

But it was too late now to change. And I doubted the Park Hyatt welcomed female guests who wore faded graphic t shirts and worn-out mom jeans.

The phone rang. It was the front desk. My’ ride’ was here.

Grabbing my recorder, my handbag and my phone and keys, I dashed out of the apartment. I frowned when I saw a message in my phone, the number unfamiliar.

I could drive down with you. Let me know if you need a ride, Nara. -jjk

i stared at the message for a while, trying to process it. I’d almost fully forgotten that Jungkook lived in the same building. I considered responding but decided against it.

He shouldn’t have offered in the first place, I thought firmly.

it was still raining when i reached the lobby and I felt my anxiety and shyness rise like a crushing wave when I saw how handsome the guy was.

“Hello, Jung Nara right ?” He smiled wide, eyes crinkling beatifically and I felt my tongue stick to my roof. I could only nod wordlessly, palms starting to sweat immediately. He looked amused as he shook my clammy hand.

“I’m..hi.” I croaked out.

“i’m Park Jimin. I’ve heard great things about you. And i read a bunch of your articles on the way here. You truly have a way with words.” He said , voice warm and genuine.

“I..uh..buh.” My mouth proceeded to prove him wrong as i struggled to form legible syllables . He was very handsome and he seemed sweet. It was impossible to keep my heart from giving a pathetically hopeful little leap. The stupid things was notorious when it came to pining after men who were way out of my league.

I cleared my throat.

Get it together, Nara.

“ I’m sorry... it’s been a rough few days. thank you. I’ve heard good things about you too, Jimin ssi.” I smiled.

“Let’s go shall we? The Kook i know usually gets pretty cranky when people make him wait.” He laughed, signalling the valet.

“You know Jungkook?” I asked weakly and Jimin hummed.

“Not well. He was a few years below me in high school, but we ran in different circles. I heard that you guys uh... dated for a while. ” He gave me a quick, embarrassed glance and I flinched.

“We’re all young and stupid sometimes. ” I laughed weakly and he chuckled.

“Well, all’s well that ends well. He seems pretty happy now and you’re doing pretty well as well.”

I swallowed and took a step away.

“I think the car’s here...” I croaked out , pointing at the valet who was looking around curiously. Jimin hummed and held a hand out.

“Want me to carry that for you?” He smiled, pointing at my bulky backpack and I clutched it tighter before I could stop myself.

“Uh..I’m fine. But thanks . For, you know offering.” I hated myself.

Surprisingly, Jimin laughed.

“You sound pretty wary. If it makes you feel better, I’m actually a cop.” He winked.

I felt my eyes go wide.

He shrugged.

“Well technically off duty. I’m originally a part of the force in Busan. I got injured about three weeks ago during a bank heist and they have me on paid leave.” He grabbed the the edge of his pocket, pulling it down a bit to show a shiny brass badge with a familiar crest.

I could only gape.

“I’m so sorry...Are you alright?” I said glancing at him in confusion. He didn’t look injured in any way. He grinned and shrugged.

“it was mostly a flesh wound but it was a very close shave. Unfortunately, my father happens to be my commanding officer and my mother bullied him into getting me off field duty.”

I smiled.

“They must love you very much.” I said and he shrugged.

“In their own stilted way, yes. But enough about me. Tell me more about yourself. You seem like a small town girl at heart. What are you doing here in the big bad city?”

I turned back to the car , which the valet had brought over in front of us. I let Jimin open the door for me, waiting till he’d settled in next to me, before replying.

“I can admit that it wasn’t my smartest move. things have been hard out here but I think i really needed to get out of my hometown. There was... well, things were happening there that I didn’t want to be a part of and it was hard for me to...”

I trailed off, feeling foolish. He had meant the question, probably as playful banter. And here I was, unleashing a vaguely worded sob story.

Jimin didn’t push , merely humming thoughtfully.

“I’m assuming there’s no boyfriend in the picture right now.” He said casually and I grimaced.

“Been a long time since I’ve been asked out. Close to a year almost. “ I shrugged. “ I had a bunch of blind dates when i first came here and even in Busan. But most of them didn’t call back. “

“In Busan? “ he sounded curious.

I nodded.

“it was surprising. There’s one that I’m still bitter over. It was over two year ago. I really liked the guy too, He was an exchange student . I thought we had something special and just , out of nowhere he sends me a text saying that he’s tired of waiting for me to... sleep with him and he just breaks up with me over text. i never heard from him. His name was...Malin something? I don’t recall. ”

“Malin Maurer? From Thailand? ” Jimin said suddenly, sitting up straighter, eyes narrowed.

I stared at him.

“Uh..yes?” i said nervously.

Jimin frowned for a second before blinking thoughtfully.

“Hmm...”

“What’s wrong?” i said nervous.

“Nothing.... I maybe wrong, but I think I covered a missing person’s report with that name.... About two years ago, i think?”

I stared.

“Missing persons?”

He grinned then, shaking his head.

“i’m sure it’s nothing serious. Tell me more about yourself.”

I felt a bit of disquiet but pushed it to the back of my mind.

“Well, there’s nothing much to say. None of my romantic prospects stuck around and I got busy with the magazine , so i just pushed it to the back burner, I guess.”

He smiled. The car was beginning to slow down.

“Fair enough. Looks like we’re here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kira Hirakuma , for all her glamour on screen was almost disappointingly plain in real life. I was a little jarred by the contrast, having been prepared for someone out of a fairy tale.

She wore a burgundy suit , her thick black hair pulled into a no-nonsense pony, face devoid of make up and eyes looking just a little too miserable.

She gave me a weak, almost tired smile.

“Hi, Nara. Jungkook told me all about you.” She said, voice scratchy.

I glanced over her shoulders, over to the side , where Jimin and Jungkook stood talking . He kept glancing back at me and there was an air of urgency in the room that made me skittish.

“What’s uh... Are you alright?” I blurted out, before I could stop myself. She looked awful.

She smiled again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes.

“We’ve been ...traveling a lot. it’s been taking a toll.” She glanced back at Jungkook and he gave her an even stare. When she turned back to look at me, her eyes looked blank.

“My make up team is not yet here, but we could still start the interview..” She said, pointing at the couch in the side of the room and I nodded, following her over.

“The wedding planner is running late as well. We were hoping to finalize the dress today.” Kira said nervously and there it was , the same nervous little glance.

Outside, the rain was steady and thunderous. The air was damp and gloomy and i felt like I was underwater, struggling to breathe as a heavy mantle of misery settled over me. Her sadness was contagious.

I’d never believed in ghosts but the only way to describe the feeling was..... haunted.

“You look exhausted. are you sure you’re up for this?” i said gently and she gave me a bitter look.

“Do you want him back?” She croaked out.

I recoiled, stunned.

Of all the things I’d expected her to say, this was definitely on the bottom of the list.

“I- What ?” I choked out.

“If you do, you can have him.” She breathed out, “ I can’t....it’s too much... “ Her eyes shifted, looking wild, hunted.

And then something like anger flooded them, the irises almost flashing red. “And it’s your fault, you know.” She hissed at me. “ All of it’s your fault. You should be the one paying for it.....not me....” She spat out, eyes flashing.

I could only stare in stunned astonishment.

Had i fallen into some wormhole? What was happening? What was she even talking about?

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing would come out. And then a shadow fell over us, and she pulled away sharply, eyes wide and face blank again.

“Nara..... “ Jungkook’s voice said behind me, soft and even toned.

I was still staring at Kira, but her face betrayed none of the agitation from a few minutes ago.

“Good to see you again. Let’s get started shall we?” He said , staring right at me and I swallowed. i glanced over his shoulders, my eyes meeting Jimin’s . He gave me a cheerful wave before turning back to whoever he was talking to.

Jungkook cleared his throat and I turned to look at him.

He raised an eyebrow and I realized that he’d asked me something. My throat was dry as a desert.

“Oh..uh..Sure. Let’s start.” i managed a weak smile, glancing at Kira who was staring at her knees.

What else could i say?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE” I promised myself i wouldn’t turn this into a cliche so ....here goes... :D

#jungkook fics #bts fics #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungook smut #jungkook reactions #jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook fic

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this-is-a-love-story-fleabag · 5 years ago

Text

The Wedding Planner (4/4)

An AU in which Fleabag is a wedding planner, and Klare and Claire have found the perfect Catholic church to get hitched in… This chapter is 1403 words. Other chapters: 1, 2, 3. Also on ao3.

Their father cleared his throat and stood. Bit by bit, the room fell quiet, and he smiled at the assembled guests, a brief grimace that was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"It's my, er, pleasure, to, er... sincerely... very much," he began. The wedding planner gave him an encouraging grin. This was actually going better than expected. He turned to the bride. "Claire is my... er... daughter..." He halted, making some kind of filler noise that rose in pitch until it tailed off, audible presumably only to passing dogs. "You know... er..."

"You look flustered, what happened?" hissed Claire from the corner of her mouth as her sister slid into her seat next to her at the head table. "He wasn't violent, was he, because I'm prepared to sue if-"

The wedding planner started. "No!" she whispered, tucking a stray strand of her unruly hair behind her ear. "Why would you even ask that?"

"I just know that Martin's a bit-"

"Oh, yeah, Martin," she said, visibly relaxing and surreptitiously smoothing out the creases in her dress. "No, he was fine. Drunk."

"Then why are you so..." Through the back door of the hotel reception room, the priest came shuffling in, apologising in hushed whispers as he pushed past the other diners on the way to his seat, his collar crooked and his hair tousled. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"You are joking."

"Just... shut up. Did I miss anything good?"

"Well, the CEO is acting like an arse," she said, sipping her glass of champagne and surveying a nearby table with ill-disguised calculation, "but honestly that works out well for my promotion prospects, so I'm all for it."

"I can arrange for an extra bottle of wine or two to be sent to his table if it'd help."

"I'll let you know."

She watched as her sister took three bites of her starter and pushed the rest of it around her plate. "When are the speeches?" asked Claire.

"Three quarters of an hour, which should be just after they serve pudding."

"Excellent," said Claire, standing up and abandoning her meal. "That gives me time to catch the partners from the Belgian wing of the company. I think now would be a good time to grill them on their efficiency savings."

"Sure," said the wedding planner, quirking an eyebrow. "Romantic. Table three."

After her sister had insinuated herself at the appropriate table and was engaged in a serious-looking discussion about some boring business thing, the wedding planner - in what she hoped was a ladylike, subtle way - swapped her plate with her sister's and made short work of the salmon terrine.

Sitting back in her seat and stifling a burp, she scanned the crowd with a secret smile, proud of how the day had come together. Her eyes lingered on the priest, who was listening intently to her Great Aunt Winifred with genuine interest as she embarked on one of her (long, tortuous, probably racist) stories. A little mark was peeking out of his collar where she'd sucked a bruise into his neck after he pinned her against the wall and-

As though he could feel her gaze, he looked up, met her eye, blushed, looked down at the table, and allowed himself to smile.

There was a sea of blonde hair in the room, attached to dozens of smiling Korhonens, all as effusive in their praise and happiness as Klare. The other wing of the family were more of a mixed bag, Scots of varying degrees of dourness making uncomfortable conversation with Mum's weird sisters.

Claire turned up again as the second course was drawing to a close.

"Are you about to eat my steak?"

"No," she said quickly, withdrawing her hand.

"You can have it, I'm just going to eat some ice."

"You're going to eat ice?" said the wedding planner, gobsmacked, as her sister picked up a couple of cubes from her glass of water and began to crunch on them.

"What?" said Claire through a mouthful of ice.

Their father cleared his throat and stood. Bit by bit, the room fell quiet, and he smiled at the assembled guests, a brief grimace that was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

His stumbling attempt at a toast went on for two more uncomfortable minutes, before eventually he managed to force out "er... upstanding..." and raise his glass of champagne. "The bride and groom!" he announced, finishing strong, and drained his glass, sitting heavily with a relieved sigh.

"Thanks dad," said Claire sincerely, kissing him on the cheek.

"Well... I meant every word," he said, looking shell-shocked.

Klare stood next, taking the microphone and dazzling the audience with both the size of his smile and the whiteness of his teeth.

"It is so wonderful that you can all be here to celebrate with me and my beautiful bride! When I first saw Claire, she walked into my office in Finland and said that she was going to be my business partner, and I thought she was pulling on my nose! I never thought I would be so lucky in my life. Now please, come to join us as we cut the cake."

The photographer was politely but firmly placed in the correct location to capture the moment with the best possible light, and then the wedding planner slid into the DJ booth to give him a pinch at just the right moment to begin the first dance. Klare, very wisely, decided against smushing a slice of cake into Claire's face, and patiently fed a bite of it to her instead, with an expression of intense love in his eyes.

Her job largely finished for the day, barring any major emergencies, the wedding planner breathed a sigh of relief and slipped away for a well-earned cigarette outside. She rested her forehead on the cool brick wall and blew out a steady stream of smoke, the tension of the day slowly easing from her shoulders.

A twig cracked behind her and she straightened.

"Hello," said the priest sheepishly. "I don't suppose I could bum a fag off you?"

Taking the lit cigarette from between her lips, she held it out to him and fished another one out of her handbag. He took it and put it in his mouth, his lips meeting her lipstick stains like a second-hand kiss.

The silence between them was as comfortable as it was electric, the sounds of their inhales and exhales cutting through the stillness. It lasted the length of a cigarette, before he was tugging her by the hand, motioning for her to follow him.

"What?"

"Just come and see."

She followed him, grumbling something about manic pixie dream priests. It turned out to be a vivid patch of forget-me-nots that had wormed their way into a crack in the polished facade of the building, struggling out of the tiny patch of earth to explode in colour.

"So beautiful, isn't it?" he said, giving her a heated look.

"It's probably deeply symbolic. I don't know of what, though," she agreed, brushing a finger against the tiny blossoms. She turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder and gave him a tiny smirk. Some last vestige of self-restraint broke inside his chest and he backed her against the wall, cupping her cheek in his hand and capturing her parted lips in a deep kiss.

The strains of music from the dance floor were just audible in their secluded corner.

"Dance with me," he murmured into her skin. She twined her arms around his neck and they swayed together on the mossy brick of their makeshift dancefloor.

"Do you make a habit of dragging women into alleyways to ravage them on the pretext of showing them flowers?"

"I'll show you my stamen if you show me your pistil," he said, leering unattractively.

"Oh my God, you nerd," she laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.

"So how are you feeling about the institution of marriage now? Has all this changed your mind at all?" he asked, looking into her eyes with a soft smile.

She snorted. "God, no." She pressed her body deliberately against his, a teasing smile on her red lips. "How are you feeling about priestly celibacy?"

He took some time to respond, his thumbs stroking over the curve of her hips.

"I don't know," he said slowly, and leaned in for a kiss.

#fleabag #my fics #the wedding planner #fleabag/priest

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