#arthur totally bought him that shirt

[stressed-and-queer]

Remember that time Arthur caught Merlin taking Morgan's purple dress, and this was his only reaction

AND THEN LATER IN THE SHOW WE SEE MERLIN WEARING A PURPLE SHIRT

WHERE DID YOU GET THE SHIRT MERLIN??? I KNOW YOUR SERVANTS SALARY COULD NOT AFFORD THAT SO WHERE DID YOU GET IT FROM?? HMMMM????

[marber312]

To see if Arthur should have his collarbone out but realises it’s to sexy, they need to be hidden.

New Hc: That’s why Arthur’s loose shirts from episode one and two stopped 🤣

But no for real. Why, my man? It doesn’t even close higher up?

And Arthur is just happily standing there

Why are you opening his shirt like that it doesn’t need fixing what do you want to see!!!!!!!!

[paralyzation-angel]

Disclaimer/AuthorNotes

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I tried my best, and the smut it semi descriptive, 18+, please enjoy. Sorry for my poorly Arthur Morgan. It's my first attempt.

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Once upon a time

It was a late night for y/n as she tended to the paper work for her hotel. She had bought the hotel in the town of Valentine. Gazing down at the papers with her reading glasses sitting at the end of the nose. As she was reading the papers a chime rung into the hotel. Gazing up slowly a cowboy had stumbled into her fine establishment. Her eyes couldn't help but gaze the man up and down as he entered. Lowering her gaze one again a light from the lanterns as he walked reflected off his chest but slowly risen to his face. Taking notice of his shirt is slightly undone showing the thick curls of his hair under it. His face came to view as it was a handsome gentleman. His beard was perfect as she took notice of a few scars on his sharp jaw line. "Evening, sir... May I get you anything? A room?  Or are you here for somebody upstairs. It can wait till morning. " Y/n spoke sternly towards the man.

The man grumbled out a chuckle that was deep and from deep within his chest. "Haha, I'm just here for a room, sweetheart. " his voice rang out and my was it just heaven to her ears.

Blushing softly as she nodded gently. Slowly taking out a book as well as taking a pen; Handing it towards him "just sign your name here. That'll be 2.00 for the night. "

"Did they raise the price.... Jeez"

"No, on the contrary. I bought out the previous owner. 1.00 for a bed to sleep in 1.00 for breakfast in the morning. In total 2.00 for the night with breakfast in the morning. " Y/n began to explain. It honestly brought her a lot of business since she provided a meal along with it.

He chuckled once more before tossing her 2.00. As he signed his name. She took the book from him reading the name, his hand writing was pretty good. "Mr. Morgan, please this way. Unless you are hungry now? Then I suppose, I can throw in a meal before bed."

Arthur looked up at her as he nodded gently "I would love a hot meal before bed, thank you."

"This way then" She walked over putting up a close sign for the night before heading to the kitchen in the back.

Deciding to cook some dear meat with some vegetables on the side. As Arthur made a seat at the table as she worked. Eventually serving the two of them a plate as she sat down. Gazing up into his eyes,  she noticed they were on her a lot since he followed her into the kitchen, Even when cooking. "Would you like any whiskey Mr. Morgan, Or tea? " she paused for a moment. "Pardon, I never introduced myself. My name is Y/f/n Y/l/n. Its a pleaser. Morgan"

"Whiskey is fine. If you'll drink with me... Thank you again for the meal, I quite wasn't" he paused for a second "Expecting this tonight. It's a uh, Pleasure Ms. Y/l/n."

Y/n couldn't help but give a small giggle. Getting the two of them glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Returning and pouring the two of them glasses as they soon dined and drank most of the night away. Eventually finishing the bottle quickly, shot after shot as they ate. Eventually the plates were empty so they both just drank and chat. The liquor soon hit each of their system as they couldn't help but gaze into each other's eyes. It was like fate... But there was no way it could be real. It was like the red string of fate was attached to both of their pinkies. His and hers. It was truly romantic as they both were silent just admiring each other; until she had noticed. Blushing heavily y/n cleared her throat before gazing away. "O-Oh my... I' I'm so sorry...." she paused for a moment touching her forehead. "My head is so fuzzy..." She wasn't much of a drinker, So this was a first. He couldn't help but chuckle. "don't worry sweetheart, you'll just have a hell of a hangover tomorrow... "  He chuckled as he was feeling the liquor himself but he wasn't as wasted as her. "Lemme get you to bed." With that he stood slowly picking her up bridal style. "About that, Which way is your room.." He muttered to her as he looked down as her point the way; the best she could. Eventually making it to the room, However the moment he laid her down in the bed. She wouldn't let go of him, Staring up into his eyes as her lips slowly lifted up as they touched his gently. "S-Stay with me..." She spoke lightly into his ear as he blushed a bit looking down at her with a small gentle glare.  Giving a sigh before nodding as he kicked his boots off and slid his hat on top of them. Ripping his jacket off. She watched with anticipation a bit as his ripped arms came out of the sleeves showing of his muscular body. Y/n couldn't help but blush at the sight before her. Arthur slowly climbed into the bed next to her looking into her eyes. "well... I'm here, sweetheart... what you want me to do?"  

"Just stay with me... till morning. " With that y/n slowly leaned into the small gap between the two. Kissing Arthur on the lips, he was shocked at first before pushing further into it. They both soon succumbed into a deep passionate kiss. His hands sliding his way from her arms down to her waist. Pulling y/n ever so closely to him as he deepened the kiss more unable to resist himself a deep rumble came from his chest as it made its way into his throat letting out a light groan. His hand slowly went up y/ns back as he gripped her hair; pulling it back. laying gentle kisses down her jaw to the throat. Before biting it gently giving a few suckles too. Leaving small hickeys here and there along the way. Marking y/n nice and pretty as his. Y/n was such a tease to him in the beginning when he laid eyes on her. Something about her seemed to caught his interest as she spoke to him. She had a spark that caught his eyes and liked it. It made him very interested and now here she was melting in his hands, by his lips... Soon enough Arthur helped her remove her clothes as y/n helped remove his.  Getting right to it, y/n on her all fours bent over for him. Arthur was on top about to slid in but quickly stopped as he leaned over her back. "May I?" Arthur asked with a deep hoarse tone sending shivered up y/n spine. Y/n couldn't help but nod quickly wanting this badly. Arthur chuckled before smiling. "Good Girl." He smile before sliding it in.  Slowly thrusting as he was slow. Trying to be gentle. His gaze on hers as Y/n couldn't but whimper and moan softly at his movements. Her eyes locked with his as she smiled. Biting her lip gently.  "M-My Mr. Morgan... You really know how to... Mmmm~ Show a girl a good time. " Y/n spoke softly to Arthur. He couldn't help but chuckled. "Haha, It isn't my first time, I wont lie about that. But I must say, This is the best I've had in a while. " he groaned into your ear as he held her hair back kissing along her jawline as his thrust continued.  For a while they continued their rapid motions as Arthur continue to go at it as y/a finally came as he soon came inside her. Filling her with his seed quickly before pulling out. "S-Shit.." he muttered looking down at her as he huffed lightly. Watching her sink down as she was resting. Arthur chuckled before smiling. Seeing she quickly fell asleep after that was she was worn out and liquor on top of that.  He soon backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. Rubbing the side of her head gently petting it. Looking outside through the window Arthur pulled out a cigarette as he lit it and inhale lightly. Slowly standing and pulling on his clothes. Going to the room he rented. Getting a few hours of sleep.

By morning Y/n awoke. Unable to remember much of last night, Gazing out the window. She sat up and noticed she was naked. Confused as to why, Pulling on a nice f/c corset with matching skirt. Making her way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Once that was finished, she headed to the front desk to see one of the guest coming down. Mr. Morgan... Y/n looked up and gazed at him. Few vivid memories rushing into her mind. Their passionate moment last night. But was those memories true. Arthur smiled at her. "morning Ms. L/N. Thank you for the night. But I must be off... I Have things to do. It was a pleasure. " Tossing the coin to the startled Y/n. She couldn't utter a word as he was out the door. Running out the door quickly. She sees him already on his horse and down the road. It was too late. Clutching a hand to her chest.

< 2 years later. >

Y/n brushed a strand from her child hair. "and that is how , I met your father. " Except for the child's sake she left out how and just said 'Made you, sweetie'. In your lap was little AJ. Arthur Junior. "But... where is daddy now, Mommy" AJ spoke looking up at her. "He's... He's somewhere safe, Sweetie. "  In fact, Arthur died of Tuberculosis a few weeks after she gave birth. "But don't worry sweetie, He was around for mommy, she she held you. "

"Really?!" Aj spoke excitedly as she couldn't help but nod. after tracking him down after a few months and discovering she was carrying. She found him again. After that, Arthur visited more often but slowly he got sick and sicker. They discovered he had Tuberculosis. So he always wore a mask near her.   She wore one as well. Luckily her and the baby was safe in the end. But he tragically died. However Y/n will always dream of that Once Upon A Time Dream of going back and reliving the moments they had.

[sqoiler]

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue. 

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?” 

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors. 

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand. 

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms. 

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper. 

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school. 

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work. 

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman. 

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards. 

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says. 

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead. 

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that. 

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper. 

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol. 

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure. 

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish. 

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards! 

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?” 

Steph whirls around. 

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen. 

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house. 

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says. 

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him. 

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her. 

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him. 

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says. 

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react. 

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully. 

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk. 

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back. 

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

[fruitcoops]

Okay, but hear me out. Cap cuddles become what everyone is OBSESSED WITH like since Finn hasn’t shut up about them, everyone now wants em. Sirius very rarely gives them out, but if u receive them they live up to the hype. So could u maybe write another part to the cap cuddles pls 😊😊

Anon 1: If you have time, I would love to see some platonic/brotherly cuddles between Lo and Cap! Their relationship just makes me smile🥰

Anon 2: wait wait wait... we've had finn & cap cuddles... what about some loops & lelo cuddles? bonus points if remus and sirius are cuddling later and something leads to remus saying "yes but now I want /two/ of you"

Prompt 16 (as requested by 4 people): “What’re you all pouty about?”

The Cap-Cuddles-verse has grown! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, of course!

I

Nado rolled up his towel and smacked Logan on the ass with it as he passed. “What’s with the lip, Tremzy?”

“Quoi?”

“What’re you all pouty about? You look like someone just took your ice cream away.”

Logan’s frown deepened as he looked into the hotel common space. “Finn won’t stop talking about Cap cuddles.”

“And…you’re jealous?”

“Yes! I want Cap cuddles!”

“Not happening, Tremz!” Sirius called without moving the brim of his cap from over his eyes. “Your boyfriend drooled on me. Tes privileges sont révoqué, souviens?”

“It’s not my fault!” Logan protested, walking out and perching on the arm of Leo’s chair. “I’m basically your brother, give me my privileges back!”

“He’s been whining for days,” Leo muttered as he wound an arm around Logan’s waist and continued scrolling through Instagram. “Finn waxes poetic every night. I’m going to kill them both. Help me, Obi Wan Cap-nobi, you’re my only fuckin’ hope.”

Sirius sighed heavily; after a moment of silence, he opened his arms up. “Viens ici, Lo. I hope you know this is for Leo’s sake and Leo’s sake o—oof.”

Logan practically threw himself onto the couch, scrambling to shove his arms under Sirius’ back and nestling his head beneath his chin. “Oh, this is nice.”

“That’s what Finn said.”

“Keep talking.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re all rumbly when you talk and it feels amazing.” Logan pressed his cheek against Sirius’ soft tshirt and closed his eyes. “I’m never leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” He cracked one eye open and saw Remus standing over him, looking amused. “Up, Tremzy, it’s my turn.”

“I just got here!”

“Fiancé privileges. You have two whole boyfriends to snuggle you.”

“You can have them for the afternoon,” Logan mumbled as he shut his eyes again. “They won’t mind.”

“You’re selling me out?” Leo gasped.

“Nice try,” Remus laughed at the same time. A few seconds later, two arms wrapped around his chest and began hauling off of Sirius; when he tightened his grip, Remus began shaking him lightly.

“I’m gonna get whiplash!” Logan shrieked, though he maintained his hold. Sirius braced against the back of the couch, but the fabric was too smooth—with a thud, both of them slid off and hit the floor in a heap.

A foot nudged him gently in the ribs. “Up you go, Lo. If you ask nicely, Knutty might let you back into his chair.”

II

The assistant coach was hilariously underprepared to deal with the Lions. He fumbled practice times, mixed up names, and dismissed superstitions until ninety percent of the team was ready to throttle him.

Then he assigned bus seats and hotel rooms, and that percentage increased sharply.

Finn glowered at him in the rearview mirror from the front of the bus as Logan and Leo tossed balled-up notes back and forth across the aisles dividing them. Remus winced each time his head smacked against the window and finally grabbed one of the many duffel bags that shared his seat, cramming it between him and the glass as a makeshift pillow. Olli, who was been smushed into the very back with Kuny, grimaced whenever his knees hit his chest as they went over bumps.

One pairing, however, seemed perfectly content. Sirius tapped messages out on his phone as Talker curled into his side, dozing on and off with both their jackets as a blanket. He murmured in his sleep once in a while and Sirius rubbed his shoulder until he quieted down, adjusting to make more space under his arm.

“Are they…together?” The assistant coach asked Moody under his breath, gesturing to the duo in utter confusion. “Arthur mentioned something about couples on the team before he went on sick leave.”

Moody pinched the bridge of his nose. “You fucking idiot, no wonder none of them like you.”

III

“Bliz, you good?” Sirius asked as Kasey shivered in the cold air. Their Uber would be arriving soon, but it wasn’t fun standing in thirty degree weather without a coat when a storm was blowing in.

“Totally,” Kasey said, wrapping his arms around his torso and stamping his feet. “Fuck, it’s windy.”

“I’ll warm you up.” Kasey raised an eyebrow and Sirius rolled his eyes, holding the front of his coat open. “Not like that, asshole. Come here, you’re making me cold just watching you.”

Kasey shuffled over and cuddled up into Sirius’ warmth; his shuddering subsided as soon as Sirius wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pressed him in closer. “Shit, dude, this is awesome,” Kasey laughed, leaning his head on Sirius’ chest. “I get Cap cuddles just for being cold?”

“You get Cap cuddles because we need you for the game tomorrow,” Sirius grumbled. There was a beat of quiet. “Fine. Yes, you get Cap cuddles because you’re cold. Don’t tell anyone”

Kasey fist pumped and closed his eyes, feeling an edge of drowsiness creep in. “Nat’s going to be so jealous.”

“What did I just say?”

IV

Contrary to popular opinion, Cap cuddles go both ways, but only two people have had the privilege of cuddling Sirius Black. Remus is the obvious one, of course—it’s a common sight to see him reading as Sirius’ dozes on his chest or settles between his thighs with his phone.

James, however, has clocked nearly as many hours as Remus over the course of six years of friendship. He’s broad enough that Sirius can lay comfortably across his front without squishing him, and he radiates warmth like a favorite blanket. He hums when he cuddles people, little tunes and fragments of songs as he traces wide circles on their back with his palm.

If there was a race between Harry and Sirius for who falls asleep faster when James cuddles them, it would be the competition of the century.

Remus has come home from running errands to find them curled up together more times than he can count; when Lily bought the couch for the house, she specifically found one long enough for them both to fit. It’s useless to try and dissuade them from cuddling, and there’s no reason to in the first place.  Both James and Sirius are perfectly contented when they’re passed out cold together in a tangle of limbs.

V: Bonus

“Scoot over, baby,” Remus yawned as he slid under the sheets. Sirius obliged, creating a few extra inches of space before setting his phone on the nightstand and wrapping an arm over Remus’ waist to pull him close.

“It’s good to be home,” Sirius muttered, kissing the base of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too. Coach will be back Monday, thankfully.”

“Talker is amazing and all, but I hate not sharing a room with you.” They laid there in silence for a few heartbeats. “Why are you moving so much?”

“Hmm?”

“You keep shifting around. Are you cold?”

Remus sighed through his nose. “I want two of you.”

“What?” Sirius propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at Remus. “Re, I thought we agreed that we didn’t want an open—”

“No, no, not like that,” Remus said quickly, rolling onto his back. “I love and adore you, and I only want you. It’s just—you know how I shared a room with Leo and Logan because what’s-his-face is an idiot and didn’t do his research?”

“Yes. He thought Talker and I were a couple.”

“Right. Anyway, we were watching shitty cooking shows on my bed and we huddled up to fit since twin beds are crazy small and I got kinda sandwiched?” Remus cocked his head to the side, looking confused at his own memory. “And it was nice? Like, really nice? I dunno, I was super warm and kind of compressed.”

Sirius took a moment to let that sink in. “Do you…want me to grab you a pillow or something so you can cuddle it?”

Remus shook his head. “Not really, you’re perfect. It was just strange. I didn’t think I’d like it.”

“So we’re good?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Remus tugged him down by the front of his sleep shirt and kissed him gently. “You’re the best, my love,” he said between kisses. “No matter what, you’re always my favorite.”

Sirius smiled into his lips. “Good to know.”

[needcake]

11 and 58 for Engport ;)

Neighbor AU and Accidental Eavesdropping Gabriel gets a job in Leeds and moves into a small apartment building. He doesn't interact with his neighbors a whole lot, but he knows the guy living next to him owns a cat because it has escaped his open door and invaded Gabriel's flat more than once, and that the old lady above him loves to listen to the same 40's music album every Sunday around 2pm. Gabriel used to live in Berlin before his company decided to cut costs and fire a bunch of its employees (Gabriel included) and he had to go job hunting across Europe once again with no intention of going back home. Leeds had been his last, most desperate choice. He was used to going out every Friday and only coming home with a massive hangover and a couple of love bites on Sunday, now he was having to deal with shops that closed at 10pm and restaurants that served dinner at 6pm. He tried the bars. And the dating apps. But all he got from it was a guy who sweated a lot from his palms and had a weird thing for feet and a girl who faked two orgasms before he even took her knickers off.

The job was good though, and rent was relatively cheap, so he'd have to make do. Even if it meant listening to the music and the pacing above him, and the cat owner next door talking to his pet late at night.

“I’m telling you Francis, things are bad as they are.” A series of heavy sighs. “Just eat the chicken. You can’t eat salmon every night.” Some mumbling. “No, I’m not asking him out. He’s probably with someone already.” And Gabriel’s personal favorite: “I don’t care if you don’t like it, you can’t run off and hide in your boyfriend’s place every time I yell at you.”

He feels kind of warmed to be considered the cat’s boyfriend. Every time his neighbor - Arthur, he learned after snooping around his mail - got home around the same time as Gabriel his white cat with brown paws would sneak between his legs and run into Gabriel’s flat, much to Arthur’s embarrassment. Gabriel thought it was sweet.

Until one Friday night when he was making his exit and Arthur was just coming home with his cellphone in his hand and a bag of groceries in the other, and his cat made a run for it, passing by Gabriel to go hide behind his couch. Gabriel and Arthur looked at each other with similar awkward smiles. “I’m sorry he keeps doing that,” Arthur says and Gabriel shrugs, going inside to retrieve the home breaker. “It’s alright, we get along, don’t we, Francis?” he says to the cat, cradling it in his arms like a baby and probably getting a lot of his white cat-hair on his shirt.

“Francis?” Arthur frowns at him. Gabriel pauses. “Yeah, that’s his name isn’t it?” More frowning from Arthur. “No, his name’s Mittens. Because his brown paws makes him look--” “-- like he’s wearing mittens, I see it.” They look awkwardly at each other.

“How do you know about Francis?”

Gabriel looks sheepishly at him. “The walls here are very thin.”

Realization downs upon Arthur and his neck starts getting red. “Francis is a friend.”

“A boyfriend?” Gabriel suggests, trying very hard not to sound too hopeful.

But Arthur just shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “An ex. We’re just friends now.”

“Oh,” Gabriel says, coming over and depositing Mittens on Arthur’s arms.

Arthur looks at the cat, at Gabriel, at the cellphone where he was texting Francis about his hot neighbor, to the chicken in his grocery bag he had just bought, back at Gabriel. “Do you like chicken?”

Sunday comes and for the first time since moving to Leeds, Gabriel wakes up glad for his total lack of a hangover. He stretches on the bed, counts his love bites and Mittens comes over to curl on his chest, 40′s music is blaring above him and the sound of Arthur’s hushed whispers are coming from the kitchen, “Francis, I swear to God, if you don’t spit that out it’s going to make you sick.”

He scratches Mitten’s ears and closes his eyes, smiles to himself. He might like Leeds after all.

[gamer-logic]

Since my state, Georgia, is having the annual Peaches to Beaches event which is two days of statewide yard sales, I thought it would be interesting to show how America, the states, and any other countries wanting to participate both 1p and 2p would be during this event. So here you go!

Georgia is happily selling fresh produce like boiled peanuts and Vidalia onions and peach-based deserts. Her homemade peach cobbler and ice cream are to die for!

Antonio (Spain) also sells many fresh tomatoes, olives, and other vegetables. He doesn't understand why no one wants his Olive Juice though.

Hawaii and Alaska make a killing selling lemonade at their stand with a free complimentary handmade flower crown with every purchase. While using their sheer cuteness to attract everyone including one of those sweet biker gangs. It's really surreal to see a huge gang of buff, tattooed, tough-looking guys in leather wearing flower crowns and drinking lemonade. Allen's also there to supervise and ward of creep. Also, to provide people more 'incentive' to buy their lemonade.

Texas breaks out the Texas BBQ and is in a Barbecuing turf war with Jett (Australia). They draw huge crowds for the five-alarm chili as well and hold a competition who can eat the most without burning out their tongues and/or passing out.

Florida sells some of the weirdest stuff you'll ever see. "Want a full-scale model of a gator made entirely out of bottle caps? Only ten bucks! Want a portrait of Florida Man painted with orange juice? 15 bucks!"

Nevada also tries to sell weird and sketchy stuff to scam everyone. "This piece is the genuine article folks! One napkin gently used by Elvis Presley himself! Just 500 bucks! Also, gets into a haggling war with Lars (Netherlands). Somewhere Alfred's dad instincts go off and he reminds himself to ground Nevada.

California, Oregon, and Washington collaborate and California sells anything vegan or made with avocadoes and the autographs of Hollywood stars, Oregon sells his old tye-dyed shirts and records, they also made him sell his old groovy hippy bus from the sixties he'd never got rid of no one knew they had. Oregon can be a bit of a hoarder, so they had to tie him to a chair and gag him because he wouldn't surrender the bus without a fight. Washington also tries to sell and drink cups of coffee, but in the hot Southern heat, this doesn't end well.

Louisiana sells anything Cajun-style from frog legs to fresh gumbo, to beignets. Also has a full collection of Mardi Gras masks and shrunken voodoo heads on sale for two bucks a pop.

Gilbert (Prussia) gets tricked by Nevada and gets a ton of stupid things he doesn't need. Ludwig (Germany) tries unsuccessfully to keep him on a metaphorical leash.

Ludwig always checks the quality of things he sees and buys dog toys and supplies for Blackie, Berlitz, and Astor. Later, he actually buys a kiddie leash for Gilbert.

All the while Lutz (2p! Germany) is asleep in a lawn chair with his hat on his face after drinking like six cold beers from this really good booth. All the while, Klaus (2p! Prussia) finds an antique Teutonic Knights flag from a vendor whose family was from Germany.

Vash (Switzerland) buys antique guns from Alabama and Roderich (Austria) also checks out some of Tennessee's guitars. He's horrified upon seeing Alabama's banjo and washboard.

Mathew (Canada) and Emma (Belgium) combine their powers and tag team to sell the best pancakes and waffles on earth with genuine Canadian maple syrup.

New York sells tons of baseball memorabilia and collectibles. Allen, trying to save his bad-boy image, tries to be discreet when buying some while taking Hawaii and Alaska around to get something with their lemonade money. James also gets some hockey memorabilia with Michigan and Minnesota who also got snow cones.

Alaska and Hawaii see a giant deluxe dollhouse but are almost in tears when they don't have enough money. But they end up getting it for free because no one can resist their weaponized puppy dog eyes. Also, no one can resist a growling Allen. Using the leftover money, they buy cute little rainbow umbrella hats for everyone and have Allen wear one who begrudgingly accepts it.

James, walking by with an armful hockey gear and flannel shirts, bursts out laughing when he sees this. In revenge, Allen forces him to wear one too and help him carry the dollhouse, much to Hawaii and Alaska's delight! "I said go my way puck head!" "No, it's my way, you vegan loving hoser!" A passing Francis (France)' is in stylish horror when they also make him and a nonchalant Luis (2p! France), holding a case of vintage wines, wear them too. Hawaii and Alaska go around giving umbrella hats to everyone including a sleeping Lutz they pass by.

Loving (Romano) practically has to supervise Feliciano (Italy) and keep him from buying anything too stupid on impulse or get scammed. They still end up with stacks upon stacks of cookbooks, kitchen wear, and a Mona Lisa made entirely out of Macaroni. They also get umbrella hats.

Flavio (2p! Romano) browses through clothing racks to get ideas for his vintage line. Also checks out the handmade fabrics like quilts. "Such craftsmanship! This pattern is so unique and chic! I simply must have it! What's your price Bella?" The nice old woman selling the quilt just smiles, "Oh just about five dollars young man." "Perfect!" Flavio hands the quilts off to Andreas (2p! Spain) who's practically buried underneath the fabric. Luciano (2p! Italy) facepalms while holding a new knife set in its case. "Oooh! Look at those adorable hats I just have to have one." Cue three more umbrella hats and a humiliated Luciano. "Just kill me now..."

Katyusha (Ukraine), Elizaveta (Hungary), Lillie (Liechtenstein), Natalya, (Belarus), Katya( 2p! Ukraine) and Anastasia (2p! Belarus), and Michelle (Seychelles) explore with armfuls of clothes, new ribbons, and a gun case for Switzerland (Lillie), cast iron frying pans (Elizaveta, watch out Prussia!), farm tools (Katyusha), Jewelry and unmentionables (Katya), dresses (Anastasia), an assortment of switchblades (Natalya), and one of those singing fish on a plague (Michelle). It's definitely an interesting group.

Kiku (Japan) and Kuro (2p! Japan) find a nerd booth selling comics, manga, and Japanese weapons like katanas. Kuro test swings a blade and tries to slice the table so hard it breaks the blade, "Hmmm, not sharp enough for me, got anything else?" He throws it on the pile of broken blades he's already tested. Kiku stockpiles on limited-edition manga and he and the vendor end up getting into a huge, heated by Kiku standards, debate on who's waifu is best. Further down, Alfred reads every Marvel/DC comic while keeping an ear out on every state's location. He checks on Texas via his glasses and notices he's beating Australia in the chili contest. "That's my boy!"

Wisconsin wearing a cheese head sells anything cheese-based. He's got cheddar, goat cheese, string cheese, cheese spray, gorgonzola, grilled cheese, cheese curds, Mac n' Cheese, cheese sculptures of all world monuments, you name it he's got it! He also starts a war with Iowa's corn dishes and Idaho's potato dishes. They eventually end up flinging cheese, potatoes, and corn after they start dissing each other's foods. "Take this cheese brain!" "Nice aim, I-da-ho!" "I told you not to call me that!" "I'm gonna go children of the corn on y'all's behinds!" Poor Nebraska is stuck in the middle.

Alfred (America) hears the commotion and using his parent radar, immediately knows who it is and reminds himself to ground Iowa, Wisconsin, and Idaho later along with Nevada who, though still grounded for sure, makes him feel a little proud of since he managed to out haggle Netherlands.

New Mexico and Arizona also sell Native American handicrafts along with things like dreamcatchers and giant inflatable aliens. While Delaware, being the boring stick in the mud that he is, walks by with a framed and complete U.S. quarter collection from a vendor.

Kansas sells out of every sunflower she had courtesy of Ivan (Russia). Ivan and her the team up to buy out every sunflower seed from here to kingdom come. Viktor (2p! Russia) buys all the vodka he can find and a new shovel while Xiao (2p! China) tries giving people tattoos for 10 bucks a pop.

He tries to convince Yao (China) to get a hello kitty one to match the giant plushie he's holding, with the encouragement of Leon (Hong Kong) and Yong Soo (South Korea) who all collectively agree he needs to quit being such a grandpa. They also like calling him an antique-like the items on sale. " Aiyah! I'm not that old, aru!" "Yeah, you are Sensei." "Don't deny it! Da Ze!" Respect your elders!" "Tattoos originated in Korea da ze!" He totally is that old.

Oliver (2p! England) holds a bake sale and has people lined up for blocks to get some. Arthur (England), after having his scones shut down after it poisoned some unlucky squirrels, fries selling authentic magical items like unicorn hair or pixie dust. Everyone thinks he's a little crazy but he did sell a good bit of old magic books he needed to get out of his house, after making sure no one could actually use them of course.

The Nordics also went perusing for antique and handmade furniture when Mathias (Denmark) spots two full sets of Viking costumes and tries to get Lukas (Norway) to try them on with him. Lukas wasn't amused.

Berwald (Sweden) and Tino (Finland) also find a great handmade table to get after inspecting the workmanship and a full Lego set for Peter (Sealand), now if only Mathias would stop squealing like a little kid at the full piece lego death star. Emil (Iceland) keeps thinking he's the mature one until he spots a mini top hat and cane for Mr. Puffin.

In the end, everyone ends up wearing umbrella hats courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska, loving all the strange things they bought or counting the profits they made. Alfred (America) is proud of his kids and visits everyone one of their stands. He ends up looking pretty funny with an umbrella hat (HW, AK), a washboard, (AL),a picture of Florida Man, (FL), a balloon alien (NM, AZ), a tye dye shirt (CA, WA, OR), hockey stick shaped glasses (MN, MI), a giant stack of comics with a replica Thor hammer and Captain America shield on his back, all in a shopping cart (NV), and a giant turkey leg in his hand (Tx). Unsurprisingly, it was a tie between Oliver, Texas, and Australia for who earned the most with their food. Georgia just smiled as this was another great year for her state and people!

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 45

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3.

Help Book Santas (and Lovers) reach 100 members! I'd love for you to join my book community :D

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Chapter 45

“Happy Christmas, you two.” Molly gave Ron and Hermione each a hug as they emerged from the fireplace on Christmas morning. Every Christmas she became a little brighter and cheerful, even more so this time considering all of her children had promised to come home — even Charlie — and two grandchildren to dote on.

Bill and Fleur had had their second child — another girl — Dominique a few months back, which had thrilled Molly and Arthur.

Where Victoire was fair with her mother’s hair and complexion, Dominique was every inch a Weasley from her red hair to her freckles and what Bill described as a feisty personality. Ron had only seen her a handful of times, and of those times, Victoire had expressed jealousy at anyone showing interest in her younger sister. She was of the age where accidental magic could start showing, and Victoire had not held back on that front.

A few exploded windows and an unhinged door had prevented Ron and Hermione from visiting Shell Cottage for some months.

But now she happily ran into the living room behind Teddy Lupin, both carrying a bunch of stuffed toys in their arms, presumably Christmas presents, chatting away in their kiddie speech.

“Gamma,” Victoire said to Molly. “You play?”

“In a moment, dear,” Molly said, stepping away from Ron. “I have some things to do to get ready for Christmas before I can.”

“How about you ask Uncle Charlie again?” George, who was sitting with Harry and Ginny in the living room, said. “He loved it last time.”

That, Ron surmised, was a total lie. Ron hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but by the look on Charlie’s face, he had no desire to play with Victoire and Teddy. Especially with stuffed toys.

“It’s a shame there’s no dragons to play with, huh?” Ron said, stepping around his mother to embrace Charlie.

“Yeah, but there’s a few stuffed ones in that extensive collection,” Charlie said. “Courtesy of me.” He grinned. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “You need to drop by more often.”

“I hear you have a nice place now,” Charlie said, looking between Ron and Hermione, who was still by the fireplace. “In Nottingham?”

“We also have a spare room.”

“I’ll consider that,” Charlie said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. Underneath his shirt Ron caught a glimpse of a tail flicking up his arm and smiled, wondering if Molly had ever discovered the large dragon tattoo Charlie had across his body. When Molly wasn’t around, it usually stretched down the length of both arms and across his chest. But with his mother present, he kept it hidden underneath his clothes.

No one had ever bothered mentioning it to her, though Ron was sure even Victoire knew about it by now.

“We’re just waiting on Percy and Audrey, and then we can start with opening some presents,” Molly said, smiling at them all.

“Yay!” Victoire said, dumping her toys on the floor in front of her. She hurried over to the Christmas tree where all the presents were laid out and kneeled on the ground to stare at them.

Her restraint was admirable, Ron thought. He couldn’t really remember being two and a half, but he was sure he would have been far more curious about what was inside the paper.

Not that there had ever been that many presents under the tree before. As the family grew, so did the number of gifts.

Molly beamed at Victoire on the floor, as if watching her granddaughter’s excitement over Christmas was the best gift she could ever receive.

And to her, it probably was.

“You do know they’re not all for you, don’t you, Vic?” George said.

Victoire ignored him, her eyes wide and watching as if she expected them to move.

“Hardly any, actually,” Bill said. “Considering she insisted on opening ours and Charlie’s before the rest of you got yourselves out of bed.”

Everyone smiled, and for a moment, they watched her, perhaps all reminiscing about their own Christmases when they were children.

It was nice to think that Teddy, Victoire, Dominique, and the other kids who’d be born in this generation would have the chance to enjoy times like this in a completely innocent way.

Percy and Audrey arrived a little while later, emerging from the fireplace, covered in soot. Audrey appeared totally bewildered by the experience, saying something about how she could do that one hundred times and still not be used to it.

Percy cleaned her up with his wand, apologising for being late, but adding how much of an effort getting the Ministry to permit Muggles to travel via wizarding transportation methods had been.

Despite the progression the wizarding world had been making over the years, Muggle relations were still a topic with a lot of room to work with. There had been a large number of magical folk marrying Muggles over the last few years, which had sparked an inquiry into how much they should know, and if husbands or wives or girlfriends and boyfriends were to be introduced into magical society, how were they supposed to go about that?

Most people were in agreement that Muggles who married into wizarding families should be granted privileges by the Ministry to Floo travel and Side-along Apparition, but there was a whole issue regarding the Statute of Secrecy and the legalities surrounding that.

Ron heard about it at work due to working in the Magical Law Department, but none of that was his expertise, nor was it Harry’s or Hermione’s. Last he had heard, the laws were still against the idea, hence why Hermione’s parents couldn’t be Apparated to the middle of nowhere for a wedding, but perhaps because Percy worked in the Transportation department he had been given additional privileges for Christmas.

“Don’t you control the Magical Transportation area?” Bill asked.

“Yes, but that is a matter for Magical Law and there’s some incredibly stubborn people over there.” Percy looked to Harry and Ron, as if it were their fault that Audrey couldn’t travel to the Burrow at will.

“We’re Aurors, Perce. Nothing to do with us.”

“Not to matter, you’re here now,” Molly said.

“Pwesents?” Victoire asked suddenly.

“Just after your mother comes down from putting your sister to sleep, dear,” Molly said.

Victoire pouted.

“You’ve already opened four this morning,” Bill said, amused. “How many more do you think there are?”

“All!” Victoire said.

“They’re not all for you,” Bill replied.

Victoire pouted again. “Pwesents for me?”

“Some, maybe,” Bill said. “But not all.”

Ron knew of at least one for Victoire. Hermione had bought it, explaining that Christmas was a magical time for children and that she thought Victoire would like what she had bought. She’d also bought a gift for Dominique, who was only three months old and would be asleep anyway, and Teddy, too, who seemed less interested in presents and more interested in climbing into Harry’s lap. Ron smiled. He was glad Andromeda had decided to come celebrate with them this year.

Though, Ron was a bit worried about the growing bunch of Weasleys when it came to Christmases.

When Hermione had insisted on buying Victoire her present, he’d even expressed some of that fear. “So, if Percy and Audrey have kids, and Harry and Ginny, George, Charlie… if we have kids, you’re planning on buying for all of them?” Ron had asked her. “I mean, I’m one of seven. What if everyone has seven kids?”

“We are not having seven children,” was all she had said on that matter.

So Ron had supposed that the answer was yes; she would buy for all of them.

Soon Fleur returned, and Victoire insisted that she and Teddy start handing out the presents, and with help from Bill, the pair spent their time distributing gifts to everyone. Bill had to point to Charlie a number of times for Victoire, since she wasn’t as familiar with him and kept forgetting, but she seemed to know who everyone else was and trotted over, handing them presents. Teddy took the charge on Harry’s and Ginny’s, as well as his grandmother’s once she’d finished up in the kitchen and joined everyone.

It was an extremely slow process, but still a fun one now that the kids were old enough to be aware of what was happening. Victoire was excited, but the moment she received presents for herself, Bill was forced to distribute the rest, which went much faster because he had a wand.

With their wedding in a few months and most of their money going towards that, Ron and Hermione had agreed to not do much for Christmas with each other this year. But still, Ron had gotten her some new books about the history of goblin and elf rights he’d seen her eyeing, and she’d given him a season pass to all Chudley Cannons games for the next season.

It wasn’t much different from last Christmas, but both of them were pleased.

“You mean, you want to travel around the country attending the games with me?” he asked, grinning at her.

“Well… no… I thought you could go with Harry. Or George. Or Charlie, if he can. But I can if you want me to.”

“Of course I’d want you to come, but I know you’d hate that, so I’ll ask Harry?”

She smiled. “I’ll come to the one Ginny is playing?”

“That’s the first game,” Ginny said, coming over to them as the mere mention of it invited her into any conversation. “Just got the schedule before Christmas. You’ll be there?”

“Yes,” Ron and Hermione said together.

“Oh, great! I’ll see if I can get you guys some good seats. I think it’s being played in Holyhead…”

“We’ll be there,” Hermione said.

Ginny beamed. “It’ll be great if you guys can come. Charlie has even promised to get to a few this year. Bill said he might take Victoire to one or two.”

“Lunch will be ready soon,” Molly said, coming from the kitchen.

“I hungwy,” Victoire said, dropping her toys and running from the living room.

Everyone else slowly climbed to their feet and came into the kitchen.

Upon seeing the set table and the number of chairs surrounding it, a sense of peace washed over Ron. He loved Christmas. Even though he got to see his family throughout the year — weekly, really — there was something really special about this time of the year. He remembered Christmas as a child and how fun it had been, but it now seemed even better. Each year, the table grew. More chairs were added as more people came into their lives. Soon there’d be no room in the kitchen to eat at all and they’d be forced into the garden in the middle of winter.

For now, it was just Victoire and Teddy, but next year would it be Dominique? Or would Percy and Audrey have a baby? Would George meet someone he’d like to bring? Or Charlie?

Next year he would have spent almost a whole year married to Hermione, Victoire would be even older and Dominique would probably be walking around, too.

He was used to large numbers in his family, and it seemed only fitting that it would just keep growing over the years. It made each Christmas more enjoyable than the last.

Ron had never realised how much he enjoyed his large family. As a child, it had irritated him. He was the second youngest, constantly overshadowed and rarely had something that belonged to just him. But now, as an adult who was making his own way in life, he'd come to appreciate it more.

He appreciated his parents who had done their best, and each and every one of his siblings for who they were. Bill for always taking him seriously when he felt no one else did, Charlie for being the laid back brother who could cheer him up, and even Percy, who’d gotten so much better over the years. He was so close to George and Ginny now, seeing them on a weekly basis, which had never been the case a few years ago.

And Fred… well Fred would always be his brother and he’d always miss him. For as long as he lived.

But this new appreciation for the family he already had had him thinking more and more about what the future held for him. And Hermione.

They’d started their own lives together, in which he was so incredibly happy, and he naturally thought about their family. It didn’t exist yet, but he wanted it, and in the recent months he’d found himself wanting it more.

He wanted to have children with her — he wanted what Bill had — and he felt that soon would be the right time.

He was young still — they both were — but he didn’t really feel that young. He felt so much older and much more mature than people who hadn’t fought in a war at eighteen. He felt as if he’d lived a lifetime already and that he was ready for the next step.

But this was also something — for the first time ever — that he was too afraid to talk to Hermione about. They were on the same page about many things, but he felt that this would be something they weren’t. She said she saw children in their future, but he knew her idea of the future was still a few years away. She was so focused on her career at the moment that he didn’t want to ruin it for her.

She’d say it wasn’t the right time, they weren’t ready, and truthfully, he knew she was right. It just didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did.

“Hungwy!” Victoire said, drawing Ron back to the table. “I hungwy.”

“You’re always ‘ungry,” Fleur said with a smile directed towards her daughter, but she passed Victoire a plate of food. Victoire began eating straight away.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, nudging Ron with her arm. “It’s not like you to be so quiet here.”

“I’m fine,” Ron said, nodding. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“Lots of things. Mostly about you.”

She smiled, and from across the table he saw Ginny roll her eyes at Harry, who just laughed to himself.

Ron didn’t care. He was happy, he was content, and he didn’t care if that pissed off the Minister for Magic himself.

It made him feel good.

…

A week later, they were at The Leaky Cauldron with a ton of students from their year. Harry, Ginny, Neville, Hannah, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Padma and a few others Padma had invited were all celebrating the end of the year. Hannah had invited them, choosing the place she and her Healing crew had been celebrating at for the last few years.

Ron usually didn’t care too much for New Year’s celebrations, but he felt this one would be worth it.

“You know,” Hermione said as the large clock Tom had put in for the occasion read one minute to the new year, “in one minute it’ll be the year we’re getting married.”

Ron smiled at her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He drew her towards him. “The best year yet. I can feel it.”

“And another year further away from the past, and a step closer to the future.”

He kissed her.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait for the new year to do that?” she asked.

“Last one of this year, then I’ll kiss you again in thirty seconds as the first kiss of the new year.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“And this will be the last time I tell you I love you for this year, too.”

Hermione drew him into a deep kiss. He could vaguely hear the others beginning to count down, but he really didn’t care for New Year’s celebrations.

When she pulled away, her lips tasting of a few too many Butterbeers, she smiled up at him and said, “Happy year of becoming my husband.”

“I love you,” Ron said and he kissed her again. Their first kiss of what he knew would be the best year of his life.

[vostokovasmelina]

arthur shelby does have a soft side.

for anonymous.

pairing: arthur shelby x fem!reader

request: please we need more appreciation for arthur, my baby deserves sm better!! bless us with arthur having all that big, bad and scary energy, but being totally whipped by his badass smol wife - and everyone finding it funny and adorable how they interact. i love your writing!! 🥺💌

a/n: yes, thank you, this is the sweetest, i hope i handled it well; now let me just cry in the corner about how much i love this dude and how disrespectful y’all are towards him

okay, so we all know arthur shelby is proper intimidating, right?

i mean, i seriously wouldn’t want to make this dude mad unless i was proper suicidal

so for the shelbys to see arthur being soft on main whenever you’re around, would be quite comic

quite literally, this man could be fuming but you’d only need to offer him a loving glance and he’d be so calm buddha would be jealous

it would be the biggest mystery for the family to find out what it is about you that makes arthur act so strange (john’s words, not mine)

but they’d love it nonetheless and would always call you if arthur was in distress

and they’d love the playful banter you’d seem to have constantly going on

“where are you boys going?”

“we gotta deal with someone, darling, i’ll be back soon, i promise”

“no, arthur shelby”

??

“definitely not in that shirt, i just bought it for you like two days ago, for fuck’s sake-”

and

“i’ll kick anyone’s ass for you, just say the name, love”

“or you could just cook dinner for once”

or

“tell me you’re picking up painting as a hobby and it’s not blood on your shirt-

“you know what, i don’t even want to know but good luck getting it out”

arthur would still like to appear as tough whenever you’re around, though- he would always want to make sure you feel protected by him

he would even look the dude selling you eggs at the market up and down suspiciously, making sure he doesn’t even dare to smile at you the wrong way- or at all

you’d probably just roll your eyes and lead your husband away, perfectly used to his behaviour

also

arthur would go proper domestic for you

he’d love spending time tidying the house, so it would look nice when you got home

and just imagine him getting a call while cooking

“tommy, if i burn my wife’s dinner because of you, i’ll strangle you in your sleep in your pretty little mansion”

and of course his brothers would tease him for it

but they’d see how good you actually are for arthur, and they’d completely accept you as a member of the shelby clan

arthur would still have his demons and some days would be harder than others

but you’d be there for him all along

you would never want to change him or mold him into something he could never be but you’d always make sure he wouldn’t lose his head and hurt himself in the process

and sooner or later, arthur would actually learn to be much calmer and not just with you around

but yeah, he’d still definitely headbutt anyone who dares to lay a finger on you

[raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal]

Ties

A/N: short but sweet? Based on this lovely headcanon-post-thing

Words: 738

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The Peaky Blinders were walking through the streets. Tommy in the front, shoulders hunched, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his cap. Beside him, Arthur, with a mad look in his eyes and his coat flying behind him like a king’s cloak. John walked on the other side, unbothered as ever. He swung his arms beside him as if he owned the streets. Or co-owned. The Peaky Boys walked behind the three men and Finn tried to keep up with his older brothers. He tilted his head, took big steps and tried to imitate John’s way of swinging his arms. “Finn, what the fuck are you doing?” Finn looked at Isaiah, who walked beside him. Isaiah walked as he always did. Casually, lightly moving from side to side, hands in the pockets of his coat. He was totally in his element. “What do you mean? I am walking?” Finn asked, confused. “No, you look like you have a serious case of diarrhea and are desperately trying to hold it in.” Finn sighed, clearly frustrated. “I am trying to keep up. There is a family meeting today and I don’t want them,” and he pointed to his brothers, “to think I can’t manage.” “So, you don’t have diarrhea?” “Can you stop saying that word?” Isaiah grinned, but then his eyes fell on the top Finn’s shirt. “Where is your tie, Finn? You can’t attend the meeting without a tie. Tommy is literally the vainest gang leader in the whole world.” “I know! But I was in a hurry today and I forgot--” “Unbelievable,” Isaiah shook his head, but he was still smiling. With a few quick movements, he untied his own tie. “Here, have mine,” and he handed Finn a green tie with a pattern of diamond shapes. Finn held it in his hands and studied it closely. “What?” Isaiah questioned, “is it not ‘Blinder’ enough for Mr. I-walk-like-I-need-to-take-a-shit?” Finn’s head whipped towards Isaiah and he childishly stuck out his tongue. “I actually happen to think this is a really cool tie, Isaiah.” And he quickly tied it around his neck. “Oh,” Isaiah said, and a smile appeared on his face. “Thank y—” “Children, children,” Arthur suddenly said without turning around, “we are trying to impress the people here, eh. We are fucking respectable. Stop your yapping about diarrhea, ties and vain gang leaders.” “Fucking ‘ell, Arthur,” John said, “I was rather enjoying their conversation, why did you end it so soon?” And with that he looked at the boys with a nasty grin and Finn knew he’d have to pay for this.

The meeting was already concluded when someone knocked on the door. Finn tiredly rubbed his face as he opened the door. “How did it go?” Isaiah asked as soon as he saw it was Finn who had opened the door. Finn sighed, “awful, I didn’t understand a thing they were saying. Arthur kicked hard me under the table when I accidently nodded off. John winked at me every time I straightened my tie and Tommy kept looking at me as if he smelled something nasty.” “Something nasty, eh, probably—” Finn realised his mistake, “don’t you say it!” “—diarrhea,” Isaiah finished and grinned. Finn rolled his eyes, “Is that the only reason you came? To pester me? Because you need to get in line, behind Arthur and John.” Isaiah kept grinning, “I am sorry Finn, I came here for the tie.” Finn’s eyes widened, “oh, yes, I am sorry,” and he started to loosen the green tie, but Isaiah stopped him. “No, no, I came to say that you can keep the tie. I bought my own,” and he pointed at the exact same tie around his neck which Finn only now noticed. “I--, why?” Finn asked. “I thought you could use it after today,” Isaiah said, shrugging, “I was the one who called Tommy vain after all, and you got the shit for it.” Finn ignored the pun, but a smile lit up his face. “Thank you, Is! I—it’s a really beautiful tie.” Isaiah nodded, deadpanned, “of course, I picked it.” But then he smiled too, “and now we’re matching!” “Everything I ever wanted,” Finn grinned. “Ah, are the ladies still discussing their little matching ties?” John’s mocking voice came from behind. Finn and Isaiah exchanged a glance and Isaiah rolled his eyes. Finn merely smiled, his day couldn’t be ruined by his brothers anymore.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Love In Sin

Chapter 6

Summary - Special Agent Winchester is forced to go undercover with his frenemy Special Agent L/N when they try to track down a notorious drug dealer. How will Y/N and Dean complete their task? Will their relationship worsen or will new feelings emerge between them?

Pairing - AU Detective!Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Warnings - Angst, Slow burn, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mentions of crime and drug, Swearing.

Chapter Warnings - Slow burn, Swearing

Word Count - 1.5k+

A/N - So I decided to post this a little ahead of the schedule. This and the next chapter are one of my favourite chapters I have written so far. Hopefully y'all will like it!

Beta'd by the lovely @deanwanddamons

Spn divider by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

“What's up?” you asked Dean.

“So, almost everyone has shown up to the party, though I am still waiting for Rowena. While you were busy getting dolled up,” you glared at him, “I exchanged a few words with Arthur and Mick - they are really secretive and I talked with both Chuck and Amara - Chuck seemed nice but Amara didn't even acknowledge me.” Dean muttered.

“Aw, did she hurt your male ego? You’ve never been turned down by a girl I see,” you said with a straight face.

“Girls simply can't resist the Winchester charm,” Dean smirked.

“Well I’m kinda immune to the Winchester charm,” you sneered.

“Are you sweetheart?” Dean pulled you closer.

“Uh-huh,” you said, your heart started to flutter in your chest as he cupped your face.

“Chuck’s watching,” he said.

“Wha-” your words died in your throat as Dean lowered his head, tilting it and pressed his lips onto yours. Your whole body tingled with various sensations. The smell of Dean's cologne invaded your nostrils. His teeth grazed your lower lip. You gripped onto the sleeves of his black shirt to steady yourself. His tongue swept over your lip and you found yourself getting lost in the kiss, completely forgetting about the party.

“Hey Dean, I-sorry didn't mean to interrupt you two kids,” Cas chuckled, making you pull back from Dean. He winked at you and walked away.

Trying to catch your breath, you looked at Dean, that cocky son of a bitch.Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and your legs were jelly. You tucked the loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

“Our cover’s safe,” Dean brought his mouth near your ear and whispered, “Winchester charm.” His lips grazed behind your ear which made you go weak on your knees, but you were adamant - you didn't want Dean to know how much effect he had on you.

“Winchester charm doesn't work on me,” you smirked, “but maybe the L/N charm works on you. You got to take care of your little problem.” you said, pointing at the bulge in his pants, wiping the smirk of his face.

Dean looked up at you, his mouth snapping shut, the tips of his ears bright red. He loudly cleared his throat and walked out of the room, mumbling something about “hormonal teenager”, and left you behind with your heart beating loudly in your chest and an aching core.

You knew it was important to attend to the guests, but you needed a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts and Dean would be downstairs. So you made your way up to the bathroom.

Closing the door of the bathroom shut, you checked yourself in the mirror. You were a mess after that kiss with Dean. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm down your racing thoughts. You touched your lip, remembering the sensation of Dean's lips on you, a shiver running down your spine. He was having too much fun riling you up because you had looked around and had spotted Chuck was in another room. Well two can play the game now. Straightening your dress and touching up your makeup, you left the room to find your ‘husband’.

“There she is,” Dean called out as soon as you entered the living room. You smiled at the guests and Dean walked over to you, snaking his arms along your waist, he pulled you closer. He lightly pecked your cheek making your face to heat up immediately. You seriously needed to control your emotions because it was getting tougher day by day to keep them in check. This was a job and you needed to maintain a professional relationship with him.

“It's nice to meet you again, Y/N. Sorry, I couldn't talk to you guys properly yesterday when you came to invite us. I had a business meeting going on,” Chuck said, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Oh it's absolutely fine, Mr. Shurley,” you said, waving your hands at him.

“Please call me Chuck and you have a lovely party going on here,” Chuck said, excusing himself to go and talk with Meg.

“They all maintain such a polite personality, it's hard to figure out who might be the right hand of Crowley. Amara is the only one who is acting like a bitch. Maybe you should go talk to her - have some girl talk,” Dean whispered.

“You think that will be a good idea?”

“Do you have any other idea about how to make that lady talk?”

“Fine but I can't promise it will go smoothly.” you said and walked towards the couch where Amara was sitting, scrolling through her phone. You took a seat beside her, but she still didn't bother to look up from her phone. You saw her dress. It made you feel extremely self conscious . Her dress was beautiful and expensive. It was costlier than any of the dresses you had ever bought. You didn't know how to strike up a conversation with her, but fortunately Chuck came to your rescue.

“Sis, I think you should look up from your phone for once and try to socialise- maybe talk to the host who is actually sitting right beside you,” Chuck said, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Socialise? It's not like it's a damn Oscars after party,” Amara said, finally lifting her head up to look at her brother. This girl was downright rude.

“But I will try to socialise just for your sake.” Amara said and turned towards you. She snickered as she saw your dress and makeup.

“Hey Amara, enjoying the party?” Dean asked, winking at you.

“As much as I can,” Amara said and went back to scrolling through her phone. Chuck gave you guys an apologetic look and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry’ to you. You and Dean finally went to introduce yourselves to the last couple of guests.

“Arthur, Mick - you guys have hardly said anything since you came to this party,” you asked the two British gentlemen.

“Don't you worry, love. We are fine and we're quite enjoying the party.” You nodded at them, pulling Dean aside and whispered to him.

“I have no idea who is Crowley’s right hand.” You sighed.

“Me neither sweetheart.”

“What now? What's the pl-”

“I am so sorry for being late!” Rowena exclaimed bursting through the doors.

“Ms. McLeod, welcome,” you greeted and walked up to her.

“Oh please, call me Rowena. I had to attend an important meeting and it made me a wee bit late,” Rowena said and handed you a box.

“No worries Rowena but what-”

“Oh what type of guest am I walkin into your party empty handed? Please accept this,” Rowena smiled warmly at you.

“You must be Dean. We met yesterday, right? I have to meet so many people in one day, it all just gets jumbled up together,” she laughed making Dean chuckle. You thanked Rowena once again and she walked into the room where the other guests were.

“Do you think-”

“Nope. I don't think so.”

“Right. She actually seems a nice person.” you said, your eyes scanning the entire room of people.

The rest of the party went without a hitch. You and Dean kept a close eye on everyone, but no one did or said anything that set off any alarms in your heads. Everyone seemed to smile and make small talk with you. The entire evening was filled with food and drinks and laughter and all the neighbours warmed up to you guys easily, except Amara. No one gave off any vibes of being the right hand man to a drug lord.

Soon after, the guests started to head out, thanking you for an amazing party.

“We are heading out now. Thanks for this lovely party Campbell,” Meg said and pulled you into a bear hug. The Novaks were the last to leave. You closed the door shut behind them and saw Dean already typing on his phone.

“Are you updating the boss about how the party was a total failure?”

“Yes and no. The party wasn't a total failure Y/N. We got to know more about those rich jerks and their lifestyle-”

“They were nice,” you said.

“One of them is involved in a drug racket, they are jerks.”

“Fine. I am heading to bed then. I have to be prepared for whatever happens tomorrow,” you said and turned around to go to your bedroom since Dean was sleeping in the guest room.

“You're going to sleep already? You're such a party pooper. Come on the party's not over yet, Y/N/N,” Dean said.

“What do you mean Winchester?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Dean went in to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine.

“The Novaks gave us this beauty as a housewarming gift and I never say no to free wine,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“It's only for tonight because we have to have our game face on. Let's get drunk Winchester.”

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the series!

Feedback is appreciated!

[ohallthecrushes]

Drawing you in // Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: I entertain the idea of Arthur kidnapping me to love me, so I made this piece of creepiness. ^^ It contains mostly Arthur’s thoughts and feelings. He’s off his meds, so his way of thinking is disturbing. Let me if you’d like me to continue this idea. :)

Summary: Arthur loves you. He’s obsessed with you. After stalking you for some time and making a few conversations, he kidnapped you to his apartment. Into his bed to be more precisely.

Contains: Kidnapping, soft smut, unconscious reader

Word count: 1641

This was way too easy to be real. Too real to be easy and yet... He managed to succeed. The plan he hadn’t even thought through was accomplished somehow. It was funny how he’d just improvised the whole thing until you both had ended up here, in his old tiny apartment.

Kidnapping you from your work after your shift had ended had been easy.

The sheets were tugged up to cover your body. Your head laid peacefully on a pillow. He made sure you wouldn’t get cold over the night, even though he was going to join you soon and cling his slim body to yours, giving you some of his warmth. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as you could.

He didn’t know which side of the bed you preferred, but he figured you’d be on the left side and he on the right.

God, you looked so pretty being so deep in your sleep. He could take a picture of your face if he’d had a camera and kept that picture always with him as his favorite one. But since he couldn’t afford to have a camera, he thought he’d just draw you in his journal. He’d already had many little drawings and doodles of you in there, most he’d drawn in hurry, because you’d been always on move and he’d had to follow you everywhere you’d gone, being very careful about it so you wouldn’t notice him. His drawings weren’t perfect and couldn’t show the real beauty you possessed. He wished he could draw more realistic and just better than he did. But people said that practice makes perfect, so maybe with a little practice tonight he’d do better work and your beauty would surface on a paper. This time he had you here for himself, in his bed, until you woke up (or until you disappeared as any other illusions he had), so he had the time he needed (or at least he hoped so).

His took his worn out journal and grabbed a pencil between his teeth. His fingers gently touched your cheeks and brushed the strand of your Y/H/C hair off your face. Reaching the line of your perfectly shaped jaw, he slid the back of his fingers along the line until he stopped on your chin. He looked at your parted lips and admired how kissable they looked. He moved his thumb over your lower lip. For a moment he hesitated, he realized he really didn’t need a pencil or a paper to draw you. He could draw you in reality, simple by touching you. He could make your shape eternalize, form you into this bed, ground you here with him in this moment forever.

He hummed and smiled, his crooked teeth peering out of his mouth. He put away his journal and pen and leaned over to place a soft kiss to your temple. He was tempted to kiss you all over your face, taste your skin, kiss your lips and slid his tongue over your neck. It made him wonder... He’d never had girlfriend before, he’d never had someone that he could be with and a chance to share himself with someone else. Instead he had so many wishes, needs and fantasies waiting to become true, and now finally he had a chance to execute some of them. He was almost paralyzed with open opportunities that laid underneath the sheets.

He stood up. His hand placed on his chest, sliding slowly down over his red sweater. He had to feel himself now to know he was real. To know that It was real. He had to touch you too. Just in case. He knew you wouldn’t mind.

He moved around the bed to get to his side. His knees felt weak, like he was stomping on clouds that were lifting him up to the sky. Lifting his body and soul higher and higher so he could finally feel something amazing, something exciting and breathtaking.

He wondered if he should keep his sweater on. He’d usually sleep with clothes on to warm himself up. Having something touching his body, feeling some friction against his skin... It made him feel less cold. It supposed to be that way, though it barely worked like that, cause he was almost always cold, regardless the temperature that was in the apartment. He figured it was because the cold he felt was coming from the inside, not from the outside.

Being lonely made him cold.

He grabbed the edge of his red sweater and took it off, folded it and put it back in a wardrobe. After a short consideration, he did the same with his pants, leaving himself with only his white boxers on. Then he came back to the bed and lifted the sheets up, crawling next to you. He still needed to feel, needed a touch and a warmth. But with his clothes on, he wouldn’t feel you. And it’s you that he needed tonight.

He moved closer to you, as close as he physically could, pressing his naked chest against your back. He wrapped his arm around you, inserted his palm under your ribs, pulling you even closer to him. His face buried into your neck, his legs touching yours, lips distended as he put a few kisses on the crook of your neck. It felt real, it felt so real, it was almost scary. He finally had you in his arms, had all of you for his use, and he wanted to keep you like that for the rest of his life... Or at least the rest of the night. He wasn’t sure how the things would go in the morning when you woke up and realized where you were. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to stay for breakfast that he would prepare for you. He figured you liked pancakes at breakfast. But he was sure that these several hours would be the best moments in his lonely, cold life. Even if things went totally wrong and he crept you out, he would have this moment in his head forever.

But he wished, he really, really wished that you would accept him after all. Despite what he had done to you earlier this evening.

He could smell your hair and they smelled exactly like the shampoo he’d seen you buying. He had bought one for himself too just to know how your hair smelled.

You skin felt soft and smooth as he slid his hand under your shirt and caressed you with his fingers, drawing your ribs until he accidentally touched your boob. His eyelashes fluttered and he felt his cheeks going red. He didn’t mean to touch your breast. He wanted to, he wanted to touch all of you, but he tried not to go too far since you were sleeping deeply, due to the amount of sleeping pills he’d given you.

He would touch you in the morning, he figured.

He closed his eyes and absorbed your warmth. Your warm body was so comfortable that he felt like he was melting into you. Like he was wrapping very warm, very soft and perfectly shaped to fit to his body blanket. His favorite blanket.

He tried not to think too much about your body in a sexual way, though it wasn’t easy as you were pressed to him and there was only some piece of fabric that separates your sensitive parts. Not thinking about how it would be to slip inside of you, feel your walls around him, to be even closer to you, was impossible. He longed to make love to you, to be intimate with you, to see your naked body wriggling underneath him, to know what you like in bed, so he could make you feel real good and excited until you cum for him. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see you coming undone for him.

He was hungry and untouched, unloved and with a big desire to love you with all of he had. His dick twitched inside his underwear in response as he brought back his hand to your boobs and found your nipple. He gently rubbed it with his fingers and pressed his lips onto your neck. His member grew hard and he couldn’t help but pressed it against your ass to release some tension. This was going to be harder than he’d thought to just cuddle with you without any sexual thoughts. He wanted to just hug you, but his primal needs told him to do something more.

He sighed reminding himself to wait till the morning and closed his eyes, focusing on the darkness before his eyelids. He thought about having breakfast with you, making love to you and dancing with you in the morning lights. The music in his head started playing, choosing the perfect song for you. About you. He thought about putting it on play later after you woke up, so you would know what a pretty precious doll you were.

He smiled as he thought about kissing your lips, telling you good morning. He felt good, more than good, he felt warm snugging with you, and that was the best feeling ever.

He knew you would feel it too. Maybe not tomorrow morning, cause you’d be too freaked out, but after some days of being with him when you’d get more comfortable, you’d finally feel the same warmth. He’d make sure you would.

He only hoped that you’d give him a chance and wouldn’t ran away from his arms. That you wouldn’t be angry at him for drawing you in here.

For drawing you.

You were too sweet and your body was too comfortable for him to let you escape.

He would try to keep his mind away from falling asleep tonight. Just in case.

[goodproofingwater]

"Are you drunk?" and "Why are you naked?" with John

This has been in my drafts for soooo long I’m sorry haha. Hopefully you enjoy :)

It had been a long day. You had been working at sewing on the buttons of your fathers shirts almost all day, something which had become your job since he had returned from war. You knew that you should just be greatful that he did come back, that he was one of the lucky ones who got hurt enough to be discharged early, but hours and days and weeks sewing and doing nothing more was starting to get to you. 

Your only solace was going to the pub with your friend. Jess had always had a bit of a wild streak, and so when women started going out on their own (in pairs of course) she was one of the first to join the ranks. She often credited herself as the person who started the trend and you let her believe it, but it was more likely something to do with the women who were linked to the men who ran your local.

You had seen Ada and Polly drinking alone together long before any other woman had even thought it was possible. 

You and Jess made your way into The Garrison at 7pm, the glass of mild soothing the dimples which had formed on the tips of your fingers, thimbles almost as painful as pricking yourself, and the first sip of the delicious beer made your whole body relax. At this point, you weren’t even sure if you liked the flavour or if the feeling was psychosomatic; the first time you had tried this and had sat in this booth had been so relaxing that now the smell and the taste of the beer made your body instantly relax. 

But any relaxation was dismissed when the Shelby’s made their way into the bar. Jess smirked as she watched the youngest glance their way, his friend pointing you out and wrapping and arm around him as he pulled them into the small private room which is where they always drank. 

“Do you think that we’ll finally get to talk to Finn?” Jess spoke, her eyes trained on the door as if she was waiting for the optimal moment to get up and stand by it. 

“Finn?” You questioned, your brow furrowing at her choice, “That’s who you would choose out of all of them?”

“Yeah of course, he’s beautiful... why, which one would you choose?”

“John, obviously..” You answered with a tone that supported your belief that you thought he was the only choice, and although you didn’t see it, Jess gave a knowing smirk. 

Hours later you were still in the pub, albeit vastly more drunk than you had been when you walked in. 

“I don’t know,” you started, “I did see a job for a factory..” But Jess wasn’t listening, and she actively stood up and left you in a booth by yourself as the door to the private room opened. Your jaw fell as you watched her perch at the bar as close to the room as possible, and to her credit, it worked. 

Finn walked over to her with his friend, and minutes later they were walking over to your booth with glasses of whiskey and a bottle of champagne in hand. 

“Thank you so much gentleman, you really didn’t have to..” Jess spoke, sitting opposite you in the booth as Finn’s friend slipped in beside you, 

“Nah it’s alright girls, can’t have regulars sitting in here alone can we? I’m Isaiah by the way, this is Finn.” You shook there hands and Isaiah kissed yours, your eyebrow shooting up as he smirked at you and his intentions were clear.

“So we hear it’s your birthday next week?” Finn spoke, directing his question at you and you laughed as you realised that Jess had used your birthday as a way to get them to buy you a bottle of champagne. 

“I.. well yes it is..” 

“Well we’re going to help you celebrate. We have the perfect gift for ya.” Isaiah spoke, winking at you and you couldn’t help but smirk. 

A week and several drunken nights later, you walked into the pub with the intention of having a few more drinks with Jess and your new found friends, and instead were greeted with a cheer and a surprise party. There were balloons everywhere, a banner which said Happy Birthday, and several bottles of champagne and whiskey on ice. It seemed that Finn and Isaiah had taken such a shine to you that they had convinced Tommy to throw you a birthday party that would take over the entire pub. And you were so happy that you almost burst into tears. 

“Come ‘ere darlin’ lets get you a glass of champagne aye?” Arthur spoke, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as if he were your long lost brother, Isaiah sitting at the bar and chatting to you while Jess and Finn kept mysteriously disappearing. 

Towards the end of the night, Jess came out of the small private room with a smirk on her face, one which you assumed had everything to do with the fact that each time Finn returned from their disappearances he was doing his trousers up.

“I got you a gift..” She slurred, pouring everyone another glass of champagne, “It’s in the private room though. I want you to go in there and open it alone.” Your brow furrowed, wondering what on earth she could have bought you that would need to be opened alone - without even her.

“What..” 

“Oh just go on!” She grinned, Finn doing his best to keep a straight face but barely succeeding. 

You walked toward the private room and Jess put her hands over your eyes as you walked in, telling you to keep your eyes shut until you heard the door close.

And when you heard the soft click, you opened your eyes and there was John. Except it wasn’t just John sitting in the room drinking a whiskey. It was John laying across the table, wearing nothing but his hat to cover enough of his crotch that you couldn’t see his cock. 

“Happy Birthday!” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his own smile cracking into a laugh as you held your chest fromt he hilarity. 

“Why are you naked?!” You spoke, the fact that this was only the second conversation you had had with him (the first being the short introduction Finn and Isaiah had given you a few days after you had met them) so hilarious that you couldn’t even consider that this was one of the worlds most beautiful men totally naked as a gift for you. 

“It’s your birthday. Jess told me it would be the perfect gift so I thought fuck it, why not aye?” He raised his glass, sitting up on the table as he passed you the glass of champagne which had been waiting for you.

“Are you drunk?” You chuckled as you took the glass from him, and he nodded, 

“Oh I’m absolutely steamin’ love. Take full advantage of me” and with a wink and a toast, you moved to sit at the table, wanting to get to know the man a little more before you fully embraced your gift. 

[spiltscribbles]

omg hi i don't know if i was able to send my request to you cos my wifi sucks but could you write "things you said while I cried in your arms" and/or "things you said when you thought I was asleep" for alex and henry? :) loved your last one so much!!

~Notes: I’m so sorry I never posted this here my love🥺 But I hope you enjoy this!!!  A REBLOG IS WORTH A thouSANd STARS!

.-

Things You Said  |  Prompts Closed

.-

When Henry was being brought up— back before his father’s abrupt death and before he understood the sadness in his mother’s eyes and before the very act of attending family dinners had begun to feel like crossing into enemy territory— the Fox Mountchristen Windsors would spend their summers in the family estate, Mertylewood, in northern Hampshire. Back then Henry had thunk the manner there was a Neverland of sorts, otherworldly and magical and totally untouched by the underhanded dealings and suffocating sophistication required by the life of a royal.

Mertylewood was wide and sweeping, with boundless rooms with air that always smelt like a cocktail of  hickory and bonfires and the gossamer his mother had always favored. It was surrounded  by green pastures and flower meadows for miles, divorced completely from  any of the uneasiness back home, and Henry had always relished in the anonymity of it all. A respite from a life composed of expectations, doused in the ever appraising public eye,  and strung together by the looming threat  of the responsibility to the family name.  It was the closest thing to home he’s ever known.

Mertylewood was the place where his mother taught him how to knit, their hands folded into one another’s and her long arms encircling his narrow frame. It was where Phillip stopped being such a god forsaken wanker all the god damn time and taught him how to aim while shooting with his bow and arrows. It’s where Beatrice looked lightest, most carefree, where she forgot about the judgmental glances by the gaggle of tube sock wearing, nasally sounding girls she claims are her friends. It was where she and Henry would stay up all night long listening to her favorite records, and painting their nails ridiculous colors and laughing for absolutely no reason at all. But most importantly, Mertylewood was the one place where none of the cameras or tabloids  or reporters got even a slice of their family, including  Henry’s father, his hero. His father who always told Henry that while Arthur might’ve been in the movie business, Henry was the brightest star of them all. His father who loved them all so thoroughly that Henry could never forget it, even when the shine to his smile or precise shade of blue to his eyes began to fade. His father who spent the afternoons in Mertylewood with Henry riding their horses and chasing the sunlight. Afternoons where Henry felt like time would never end.

Their favorite spot to stop and rest  was a tiny alcove on the cusp of the property, right where the trees met the mouth of the river, and where the sunlight refracted against the tree tops and sod  to make them look like they were ablaze. Henry had thought that it was something magical, something that could never be replicated. He knows now, a decade and a half removed, that he was wrong. He sees the same blaze in Alex Claremont Diaz’s chestnut eyes whenever he’s determined, excited for a challenge even if it’s something as stupid as a staring contest that he refuses for Henry to win. He thinks Alex is the personification of that wonderment Henry had once  felt as a naive boy, and is blown away by him all over again.

“Oy! I saw that!” Alex suddenly crows, leaping up from his seat on their sofa in the Brownstone Henry had bought to start their lives together, topping it off with some ridiculous dance from some ridiculous app that in all seriousness Alex shouldn’t even have considering that it was created  by a hostile government literally spying on it’s users. “You blinked Henryson! I win!”

“I did not do anything of the sort!” Henry reproves with no real heat, too busy trying not to gaze  longingly at Alex’s swinging hips in those sweatpants.

God it’s so fucking unfair that his boyfriend is so hot, and even more unfair that Henry is so God damn weak for him.

“Ah c’mon sour patch,” Alex pretends to  croon, beginning to pepper sloppy kisses down the column of Henry’s neck, unwittingly making it so Henry arches up towards him. “I know it’s not really part of you royals’ MO, but a deal is a deal.”

“Says the first son of a nation which rebelled over some taxes,” Henry scoffs, can’t help the snicker that bubbles out or the dazed way he feels over the gleam in Alex’s eyes.

“Spare me babe, you love it when I’m a rebel,” Alex goads, far too cheeky and far too endearing all at once. He’s a living contradiction that Henry would spend an eon trying to figure out, but for now, Henry momentarily loses all thought when Alex, the sneak,  slips a sly hand into his shirt, and swipes his fingers against bare skin— a whisper, a promise for something more.

Henry has fallen for a bastard, God save the queen.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Alex pretends to  croon, presses an open mouth kiss to Henry’s own. In turn, henry only responds by swinging his head back and willing himself not to get all heated like he were some fucking schoolboy with his first crush over being a fully fledged adult lounging around in his home with his fucking fiance of all people. His annoying ass, smug as all get out fiance, but his fiancé all the same.

“I took’r out to shit last time!” Henry grouses, greedily pulls Alex back closer when he starts to detach himself.

“I seem to remember that you offered last time,” Alex says with a pointed hiking to his dark brow, dips down to trade another snog like he couldn’t help it, as if he felt a fraction for what Henry felt for him. “And then you lost this time around, so.”

“I’m not use to all this manual labor while i’m in America,” Henry tries for broke,  immediately regrets the quip when he sees the way it makes Alex’s entire countenance go smug and his button nose turn up in such a shrewd fashion that it inspires a whole slew of maddening emotions to chorus within him, ninety percent of which being that he’d really like to get Alex naked. Nine percent wanting to kiss him so hard that it falls off, and the remaining one percent being a mental note to text June about some face masks for him to get rid of the blackheads speckled around  there.

“Shut it Alexander,” Henry opts to  say, faux aggrieved as he slips out of his embrace and picks up Eleanor’s leash. “I’ll take her out if you just promise not to speak out loud any of the various innuendos you’ve surely devised in that cryptic place you call a brain.”

“Rude.” Alex sniffs.

“I reckon that’s a deal?” Henry presses.

“You run a hard bargain,” Alex nods, unflinching and far too  serious. Truly,  Henry must be completely off his rocker considering that he’s not only helplessly in love with this boy, but he’s been lost on him since before he could remember. Sometimes his chest feels like it’s going to burst with the love he feels for him, knows that he can be shit at showing it, quieter than Alex’s grand gestures and loud proclamations, but Alex knows. Alex knows how the love Henry holds for him runs deeper than all the oceans, and more expansive than this galaxy. He knows that Henry considers him his person, that what he feels for Alex is unparalleled by any other, insurmountable in its daunting expanse but what keepsHenry grounded nonetheless. And that’s the most important part out of all of this.

“I’ll make you some tea for when you guys get back,” Alex offers, grin a supernova that Henry had once been terrified to burn against.

“If I end up dead in a gutter and the local news reports that I was a decent man, you promise to get me one of the nicer candles for my wake, won’t you? The one’s with a wooden wick?” Henry asks, only partly kidding.

“Don’t be silly babe,” Alex laughs, mock magnanimous. “With those cheekbones? You’d never end up on local news, primetime would be fools not to plaster that pretty face all over!”

Henry frowns before pecking a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I’m so glad I’ve got such a strong support system at home Alexander.”

“You know it baby.”

.-

When Henry had been six and Beatrice a fresh ten year’s old their parents had taken them to see a peculiar show on Westend which featured odd musical numbers, a Mary Poppins like nanny, and a set of twins whom were able to read one another’s minds. Henry was so very confused by the whole ordeal, but Beatrice was downright ebullient over it. She had spent that entire spring trying to train  them to learn how to do the very same. Predictably, it was a spring full of scraped knees and random bruises and a twisted ankle. But sometimes, once in a blue moon, their connection is so clairvoyant that Henry privately thinks that somehow Beatrice’s persistence had somehow forged the bond out of sheer force of will.

Exhibit A, while Henry walks down the brisk streets of the city— or well, less walking and more being dragged by the ninety pound Labrador he and Alex had adopted nearly a year ago now— he feels his phone buzz, and when he opens it he finds a message from Beatrice. Just a short phrase coupled with a photograph that punches the air right out of him.

B: Sometimes I miss it

The attachment is a picture of the five of them, Henry and Beatrice with Phillip and their parents, on Mertylewood’s veranda. The photograph was taken on a day where the light shimmered, making it so Henry and their mother’s golden hair shone right through. Henry and his siblings were in matching trousers and tops, while his parents were caught mid laugh. It looked like what you’d see plastered all over the trashy magazine covers that were obsessed with their family to a morbid degree.

Henry remembers the precise moment the photograph was taken. Remembers how his father spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out the camera settings so that it would take an automatic shot. Remembers Phillip and Beatrice bickering about a butterfly she had caught and he had let go free. Henry remembers his mother carding a ginger hand through his tousled hair, the both of them always having been more reserved than the others and sharing the trait like a lifeline in the chaos of it all. Henry remembers how after they had finally gotten a good collection for their grandmother to sift through in the midst of deciding which would make it on that year’s Christmas collage for the paper, Arthur had tossed Henry on his shoulder, and slung an arm around Catherine’s hip and beckoned the two oldest along for them to go out for sundaes and eat them by the peer.

It’s one of the last truly happy memories Henry has before his father’s diagnosis, a snapshot of resplendence that would never last.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been staring down at his phone, doesn’t notice that time had passed until he finally feels the salty droplets cascading down and splashing against the screen. And shit, it’s been over an hour since he’s left. It was only meant to be a walk around the block for Eleanor to stretch out her legs before bed. Damn it, Alex is probably worried sick.

With a shuttering breath, Henry slowly shuts off his phone, looks up to find that he recognizes the apartment complex they’ve stumbled in front of, miraculously only five minutes away from his and Alex’s place.

“Thank Jesus,” Henry mutters before softly tugging Eleanor away from a hydrant and making the trek back home, stomach twisted up in knots over how Alex must feel.

His suspicions are confirmed when the pair of them make it back home and are greeted by the sight of a peeved off looking  Alex, only clad in his pajama bottoms and a frown.

“You could’ve called,” he says, bends down to ruffle a hand into an excited Eleanor’s fur.

“I know.” Henry says, utterly apologetic.

“Dude I thought you really were gonna end up needing that fucking candle,” Alex tells him.

“I— I’m sorry.”

Henry’s not sure if it was the stutter he let out just then, or if he finally had gotten close enough for Alex to spot the wetness tracing down his cheeks, but almost immediately Alex’s expression goes stunned, then confused, followed by angry until it lands on something painfully contrite.

“Baby,” he says in a hush, and the open way that word comes out of him— pleading and hurt and wanting all at once— is enough for a new round of tears to flood Henry’s eyes and for his body to begin trembling while his heart  lodges up into his rapidly shutting throat.

Henry thanks his every star that he’s got Alex. That he has someone he can trust so implicitly, so thoroughly that he isn’t afraid when his brain shuts off and he just falls into his fiancé’s embrace, plunging his face into the juncture of Alex’s head and shoulder and just sobs, let’s the sadness just swallow him whole and lets himself remember his father and remember his family and remember when everything had been so effortless.

Somehow, seamlessly, Alex carts him and their pup indoors, helps Henry shed himself of his jacket and shoes before pressing him down onto their bed, and wraps him up into his favorite blanket. Henry absently knows that when Alex leaves him to his solitude it’s because he has to make sure Eleanor is taken care of and has to shut down everything around the house, but that doesn’t stop Henry’s  yearning for him, nor does it stop him for feeling so painstakingly alone.

When Alex comes back it’s with a glass of water, and a bowl of fruit, and a cup of hot coco because he knows that’s what Beatrice makes him whenever Henry is feeling especially sad. Henry wonders if Alex knows it’s an old tradition started by their father whenever their mother had gotten the same way. He’d like to tell him, but feels so very tired that he can’t fathom moving his lips to form around the words, resolves to explain it another day.

“You’re back,” Henry says, hates how desperate he sounds, wishes he weren’t so very inept.

“I love you,” Alex answers, his smile still so fucking bright and his hands so soft as he climbs into bed with him, props Henry’s head on his chest and kisses the line where his hair begins.

Henry starts to cry all over again, and Alex only repeats the affirmation, moves to telling him funny stories of when he and June were younger when that doesn’t work, and then starts to rant about his hellish constitutional law professor because he knows that Henry wants nothing more than a distraction.

Tomorrow Henry will show him the photograph, and Alex will understand  because he knows Mertylewood, hell he’s spent a handful of weeks over there. Then Henry will tell him more stories in exchange for the ones Alex had given him tonight. Then Henry will explain the hot chocolate thing and Alex will listen and laugh and nod and kiss Henry in all the right parts. And Henry will just fall in love with him all over again. Tomorrow Alex will ask if they could have their wedding in Mertylewood because he wants Henry to be reminded of that happiness always, and also because he thinks it’ll act as some sort of tribute to Arthur. Henry won’t say yes right away but he’ll think it, and it will be better, because Alex always makes it better. But for now it doesn’t have to be better, and Henry is so thankful he understands that.

“I really love you Henry, you know that?” Alex asks hours later when the tears have dried away and they’re doing nothing but mapping out the patches of skin on one another’s bodies— reverent  and unhurried and just because they need to be touching one another.

Henry wants to make a joke, thinks that on any other night he’d retort with a playful barb without a second thought, but he can’t make himself do so tonight, it all feels too raw, too real, too fragile.

“I love you  Alexander,” he says instead, cuddles closer to him. “For forever and a day.”

“Forever and a day.” Alex confirms and they fall asleep like that,  tangled in forever and one another and all their tomorrows.

.-

Buy Me A Coffee?💜

[ayellowcurtain]

Okay! So this one needs some warnings, I guess. This is a Elu time-travel AU type of thing that I created inside my own head because I just needed to write about it. It’s very angsty, probably a little too much, but again, I wanted to write it and so I did. 

There’s a brief mention of suicide thoughts, but it’s very quick and never again! 

Lola is just briefly mentioned, there’s no mentioning of ages or anything, but when I wrote this, I didn’t imagine having a big difference of age between them. Lucas and Lola are basically the same age, just months apart. Eliott is two years older and a few months. I think this is it for warnings: Very angst, cheating, Alternative Universe, Lola and Eliott don’t have a big age difference between them. Yeah. If it’s not your thing, that’s totally fine and no need to read it <3 

There will be more parts to this, it’s just a little too long and didn’t want to post a huge thing at once. 

Time is subjective, especially for Eliott. If he wanted to, he could go back in time, go forward, but he doesn’t. For months, he thinks about his options and he doesn’t even see the days going by, stuck inside his own head, measuring every option he has and every consequence it might bring.

If he goes back, he might make everything worse. If he goes to the future, he might see that this is it, he messed up to the point of no return and that would crush him.

It might sound exaggerated, but if Eliott went to the future and saw that Lucas wasn’t with him, he didn’t see a point on living. He’s been sitting here for a long time now, going through every moment of his life, every second of every mistake he made with Lucas. After seeing everything again, Eliott is just not caring about being the right type of human being that doesn’t think about ending his time in here for now. There’s nothing to lose so fuck it!

His life, this dark mind space he’s in right now, it’s all his fault and Eliott knows it. He’s suffering the consequences of his own actions. For some reason he can’t quite understand, his heart has such a hard time settling down sometimes.

He didn’t love Lola, not even for a second. Of course not, he wanted nothing to do with her in the way he wanted Lucas from the moment he saw him for the first time. He and Lola were acquaintances at best, nothing more, but somehow, Eliott ended up kissing her because the opportunity was there. The unknown was right in front of his face, offering itself like something so magical and unique and he just needed to know what it was, how it would feel.

Eliott feels so incredibly stupid and wrong, but he’s the worse at controlling himself, making up his mind and that’s why he can’t go back either. As he’s sitting on his couch, he knows what he did was wrong, so wrong, but he can’t be sure his past self wouldn’t make it worse if he went back in time.

The situations can change when he plays with time and the moment of the kiss could happen somewhere else, away from curious and knowing eyes.

Maybe it would happen when they ran into each other at a club and Eliott kept Lola from using drugs again. Maybe when he walked her home that same night or when she appeared at his door on an afternoon when Lucas was out with his friends and she went to grab some of his old art supplies. Eliott is trying to be honest now and if he’s being honest, he can’t be sure what would happen if they kissed when they were alone.

The thought of Lucas coming home, to their first home together, to see Eliott with someone else is almost too much. Eliott gets up from the couch, feeling all his joints crack as he walks for the first time in a long time, going to the kitchen. He can’t believe he’s this fucked up in his head.

It’s a lot colder than what he remembers. He looks out the window and the snow is already pilling up on the outside of their window. The kitchen stinks! Eliott opens their fridge and everything is basically rotten, almost creating roots inside the plastic bags. There’s no real food to eat so he has to settle with some tea and old crackers. As he sits back on the couch, all the Christmas lights from the building across the street make him realize what time it is. Maybe not Christmas yet, but December, at least. Eliott spent months sitting on his couch, mourning how he ruined the only thing he ever truly cared about.

Eliott is too afraid to ruin things even more, but he can’t help but close his eyes, forgetting his tea on the coffee table, trying to picture Christmas from last year, every detail he can remember, every smell and touch.

It’s a smooth travel and he manages to do it right, to go back to the exact hour he wanted to. Lucas is asleep so he won’t ever know Eliott went back in time, nothing will change. Eliott fell asleep almost instantly that night, feeling so happy with how his life was going, Lucas had liked his gifts and he bought Eliott everything he wanted and more. Eliot had bought them matching onesies and Lucas was sleeping wearing his hedgehog one.

Eliott lets himself watch Lucas sleep for the entire night. They just had their first Christmas dinner together and Lucas was so happy that night. They didn’t really talk about it, but Eliott could tell Lucas was proud that everything went smoothly.

He doesn’t let himself stay for too long though. It makes his heart hurt too much, it turns his reality even worse. The cold flat is exactly how Lucas left that night. There’s no sign of Lucas ever living here. While they were fighting, tears constantly running down Lucas’ cheeks, he made sure to grab every piece of clothing, every picture, every object that could have his touch and he took everything with him. Eliott was completely alone like never before, sitting on his couch for one more night.

Eliott is really struggling, but he lets himself be selfish and try again. From then to Christmas, he checks every social media, every day, in search of a clue of where he can find Lucas.

-

“Lucas!” He screams again, looking up, not even bothered by the snow falling directly on his face. Eliott knows he’s in the right place. He should have known, but at least Arthur’s “family” posted just hours ago gave him all he needed.

Eliott screams louder and for a brief second, he sees Arthur’s face on the window, and then he’s gone again. He puts his hand against the frozen wall, helping himself to get to the entrance. It’s Christmas night and it’s freezing, but Eliott doesn’t care. He just needs to see Lucas and talk to him, at least try it one more time.

The light on the hall turns on, telling him that someone is coming, he tries to stand on his own, fix his hair the best he can and then he recognizes Lucas. By the height and the most beautiful hair. Lucas finally opens the door and walks outside, hugging himself, unlocking the gate.

Eliott steps closer, sighing in relief, his frozen hands melt as soon as he touches Lucas’ cheeks, trying to kiss him, but Lucas’ hand comes to his chest faster, keeping him at arm’s lenght, creating a distance between them.

“You’re drunk.” Lucas whispers and Eliott can’t really pick if he’s angry or disappointed or sad...

“We’ve kissed while drunk before.” Eliott tries to kiss him again, but Lucas pushes him away, very gently, at least based on what Eliott was expecting Lucas would do.

“We’re not together, Eliott. Go home, it’s fucking Christmas.”

“I don’t give a shit about Christmas, Lucas! I just need you to forgive me.” He sees Lucas as a halo, moving around way too quickly for Eliott’s eyes to focus, but leaving a trace behind, like a picture when it’s double exposed. Lucas is on his phone, but he holds Eliott close, helping him stand without leaning against the wall.

Lucas doesn’t look at him, barely even acknowledges that’s Eliott there, the love of all his lives. “We’re not together, Eliott. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Yes, there is! You know there is. I made a mistake and I’m here to ask for forgiveness again.” Eliott buries his head against Lucas’ neck. He still smells the same, his skin is still warm, smooth and so inviting.

“Stop...stop, Eliott,” Lucas whispers patiently, not even flinching when before a single neck kiss could break all of his walls.

There’s a car parking in front of them, Lucas opens the door and Eliott kind of slips inside, lying in the back seat. He tells someone the address and Eliott tries to hold his shirt, pull him inside the car with him. Lucas still knows their address.

“Lucas...please!” He says the last word louder, almost begging, but doesn’t have the strength or balance to sit fast enough.

“Go home, ok? Drink some water, take a warm shower. We’ll talk later.” Lucas is at the door but feels miles away.

The door is slammed close and the car is moving with no Lucas inside.

[ourladylennon]

March 1957- A Guitar of His Own

“John Lennon’s first own guitar, to replace the one he’d borrowed, was bought for him by Julia. It’s been said (though it’s far from certain) he asked Mimi to buy it, but with his exams looming she was never likely to say yes. More likely he just asked Julia. (Nigel Walley remembers, “If John needed new socks or a new shirt or some vests he’d say, ‘I’ll go down Mum’s and get them.’“ Julia had also just bought her beloved “Stinker” his first colored shirt, checked red and white.) Because the skiffle boom had temporarily stripped guitars from the shops, retailers were having to source them with greater cunning. John’s was bought from south London mail-order firm advertising in the popular lowbrow weekly magazine Reveille. The ad appeared in the issue of March 7, 1957:

ROCK ‘N ROLL GUITARS, REAL PROFESSIONAL

That was enough to grab the eye, but the small print uncovered the real cost: it was £1 down and then twenty-one fortnightly payments of 20s 3d, for a total of £22 5s. This was expensive. [...] Julia was committing to a shade over a pound from Bobby Dykins’ wage-packet every two weeks all the way to the start of 1958.

For the mail-order company, the key was to find stocks of guitars in countries where rock had yet to catch fire. John’s was shipped from Durban, South Africa. Though the ad made it sound like a dream machine, the Gallotone Champion was actually three-quarter size, made from laminates instead of solid wood, and its general tone and playability were poor. A sticker inside, visible through the soundhole, said GUARANTEED NOT TO SPLIT [...]. John conceded: it was a bit crummy” but played it constantly, regardless of its quality or Mimi’s curt words. A virtuoso he was not: “All I ever wanted to do was vamp,” he’d recall. “I only learned to play to back myself [singing].”

Paul weaned John off the banjo chords taught to him by his mother Julia. John had a musical flair in his family line too, but it was more rough and ready than Paul’s: John could play banjo, guitar and harmonica, often more with aggression than precision. Afternoons were whiled away playing guitars to records, singing, reveling in the joy of chords [...]. The laughed over a sticker visible through the the soundhole of John’s guitar: GUARANTEED NOT TO SPLIT it said, and by ‘eck it ‘adn’t.

Autumn 1958- John vs. Gallotone

John’s Gallotone Champion was GUARANTEED NOT TO SPLIT but not GUARANTEED NOT TO BE PULVERIZED. Having been on the receiving end of some heavy Lennon aggression in recent times, the once precious possession [...], was now in pieces - “smashed in half” was how he described it. His next move was predictable: on their way out of Manchester theater after auditioning for Levis, John spotted a guitar propped against a wall and “slap leathered” it. Three boys and two guitars arrived in Manchester, three boys and three guitars left. According to Arthur Kelly, John’s new instrument was a piece of garbage, even worse than the old Gallotone. “It wasn’t even a nice guitar shape and I never once saw John play it. I said to George, ‘Couldn't he have nicked something better?’”

  -Tune In, Mark Lewisohn