#bonnet the hen

[pennaraptor]

romantic corn and seeds dinner

[sofiamakesstuff]

Sticker design, part of a series I'm planning!

[megalony]

Exploding Emotions

As promised, this is the new Evan Buckley imagine I have been working on, I am very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While out on a call, an accident gives (Y/n) flashbacks to the night her husband got trapped beneath the fire truck and what happened to her while he was stuck.

Enjoy.

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

"Okay, what have we got?"

The team clambered out the truck one by one, each sorting their gloves and reaching for their helmets while they followed after Bobby. The Captain led them away from the truck and towards the scene they were here to assist.

(Y/n) could feel her legs starting to ache and she was beginning to lag behind. This was their fifth call and they weren't even halfway through their shift yet, and they had come here straight after their last call. They hadn't been back to the station for a drink or a snack or had a moment's peace.

Added to the fact that this was an evening shift, (Y/n) felt like dropping down here and now in the middle of the road.

She shrugged on her florescent jacket and stood near Ravi, looking out at the scene.

Each of them could feel their shoulders sagging and a grimace flooded their faces in turn when they looked around.

A lorry had crashed at an intersection. The large metal lorry was now on its side right in the centre, with a mangled up car resting in front of the bonnet. There were at least four other cars scattered around who had either crashed together, hit posts or swerved and burst a tyre trying to get out of the firing line.

"Hen, Chim, head for the lorry and the collision car in the centre, those drivers will be the worst off. Everyone else, fan out around. If anyone can walk, guide them to safety and get them off the scene."

Bobby's orders fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at the scene ahead of her.

The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and stand on end as a cold shiver passed through her blood. She could feel her lungs tightening and closing up and her eyes zoned in on the lorry.

It was the same crimson shade as the fire truck. Those bright headlights were shining in her direction, they were calling out to her.

It looked just like the scene over a year ago that (Y/n) had to endure watching over the news.

The scene that tore out her heart and made her feel like she was witnessing the end of the world with no way of helping. Being a firefighter meant it was in (Y/n)'s nature to help people. She wasn't used to sitting back and watching from the sidelines, unable to do anything at all. And when it had involved the one person who meant the entire world to her, everything else had become insignificant.

Dread clawed at (Y/n)'s lungs as she felt herself beginning to shake. It felt like a decade had passed since that night, but standing here, staring ahead at that crumpled lorry in the middle of the road, in the dead of night, (Y/n) suddenly felt as if the last year had evaporated into dust.

She felt like she had been transported back one year with her wish of being able to be on scene and do something to help. To look after Evan and get him out.

Was he there? Was Evan laid out on the concrete with one leg practically split apart and a hundred tons of metal crushing down on him? Was he pinned to the floor, unable to move in any direction? Was he screaming until his lips were blue and his lungs were on the verge of giving out? Was Evan in mass agony, violently screaming for someone to do something to help him when no one stepped forward to save him?

"(Y/n)? Everything okay?"

A quiet round of "He's not here," murmured beneath her breath, so quiet that her dad didn't catch a word.

But he could see by the faint, distant look in her constricted eyes and the trembling that set in her body that she wasn't here. She wasn't on scene with them, not mentally. Her mind had gone somewhere else and although he didn't know where, he could see she needed a few moments to come back to the present.

His eyes widened when he watched her suddenly stumble before she crashed down to her knees. Her arms were pinned around her waist with her head lolled to one side, but Bobby could see her eyes were intently focused on the scene ahead of them.

They couldn't see any of the number plates from this far away and there weren't any casualties yet or anyone they knew here on scene. So (Y/n) couldn't be panicking about having family or friends meddled up in this collision.

He hurriedly crouched down in front of her, moving his hands to hold her arms while he leaned his head to try and get within her line of sight. But even when he was in her view, it was like she was looking through him rather than at him. She wasn't here, she was lost.

"Honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Relief overtook Bobby when (Y/n) managed to nod her head. She could hear him. She hadn't collapsed in pain or mass agony, she wasn't having some kind of stroke or seizure or some sort of episode. Something was clearly going on, but it didn't seem to be a dire emergency.

Bobby couldn't be doing with any more emergencies. Not after this last year with Evan and all his operations on his leg and him and (Y/n) struggling to cope with those and a newborn baby. (Y/n) had only just come back to work from maternity leave while Evan's return to work date was still to be determined.

His daughter and son-in-law had been through enough.

"I just… I need- need a minute." Her voice sounded distant even to herself and she kept leaning her head to the right until she could look around her dad and stare back at the lorry that was looking more and more like a fire truck to her hazy eyes.

"You sit this one out, get back in the truck. I'll be back in five minutes, if you need help, radio through."

Bobby looked like he was going to try and help her up into the truck behind her, but she shook her head. She wanted to stay where she was, knelt down on the floor. She was okay, but she didn't have the willpower or the energy to get up yet. She couldn't move. She had to stay here.

He seemed dubious about leaving her, but (Y/n) clearly didn't want help right now and they were two men down with Eddie being on holiday and Evan currently off work. And if (Y/n) was sitting this call out, Bobby needed to get back out there and control the situation and help so they could be back at the station as soon as possible.

(Y/n) barely heard her dad whisper that he would be back soon and she tried to lean closer when he kissed her temple. His touch lingered for a few moments, giving away how badly he wanted to stay with her and truly make sure she was alright. But the faint smile she tried to muster told him she might just be okay for a few minutes while he got this scene under control.

All she could do was lean her shoulders back against the truck and close her eyes, but the image was still there. Those beaming headlights were aimed at her. They were shining on her, blinking at her, flashing for her attention and the light shone through her closed eyes that were illuminated into bright red lines. With the image of Evan burned into her cornias until the day she died.

The image of Evan laid out on his stomach, gloved fingers desperately clawing at the floor. Nails splitting apart beneath the gloves, fingertips wearing down and the skin rubbing off as he tried to prize himself free.

His lips, sodden with sweat and dirt and the odd speckle of blood, screaming until he was froffing at the mouth and his throat felt drier than the desert.

His eyes, shedding so manny tears he could have had his own ocean named after him. Red circles beneath his eyes, veins prominent in the whites of his eyes, cheeks glistening with little white tracks where tears had wiped through the dirt covering his face.

(Y/n) could hear those screams. She could see the blood creating a puddle beneath him. She could see people moving to lift the truck and she could hear the agony in her husband's shrieks when their team finally dragged him from the wreckage and prized him free too late for (Y/n)'s liking.

Tears began to streak down her own face before she could stop them and she found her trembling hands rattling through her inside jacket pocket, searching for her phone.

She had to make sure he was okay.

She had to call Evan.

She had to know he wasn't in danger.

To stop herself from staring at the scene ahead that was only inflating her panic and agony, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed. She closed them so tightly pins and needles flooded her face and had her squirming from the tight pain ebbing away at her eyes. It didn't stop the tears from falling, but they were only silent tears of fading panic and old anguish she was trying to push away.

The line didn't ring for long and (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed. Usually when it didn't ring for more than three beeps it meant Evan's phone was switched off or he rejected the call because he was busy on a call. And if the line had rung and rung with no answer, (Y/n) wasn't sure what her panicked brain would do in that scenario.

"Hey baby, everything okay?"

Evan's voice was the calm after the storm. (Y/n) could feel more silent tears beginning to stream down her face when she listened to his lulling voice with that slight rough edge that implied he may have taken a nap with Lilah at some point tonight.

He wasn't quite used to being at home while (Y/n) was at work. It had been the other way around when (Y/n) took early maternity leave and Evan had been the one to call her while he was at work. Just so he could hear her voice or listen to how her day had been to take his mind off a rough or an oddly quiet shift.

He didn't like being the one stuck at home, not able to do his job. But now he didn't have a pot running from his toes midway up his thigh, it was easier to be at home. No one had to be here helping him hobble about the house, he didn't need (Y/n) to help him wash or help him up out of bed and down the stairs.

He didn't need Maddie coming round to babysit him and now he could walk- although with a limp for now- he could properly care for Lilah.

It crushed Evan to not be able to carry his baby girl or bathe her or take her for a walk when he had been on crutches. Seeing (Y/n) or Maddie or even Bobby come round and help with Lilah had been killing him. But now, until he was signed off for work, Evan was spending as much time as he could with his baby girl.

"Babe, you there?" There was a slight chuckle at the end of his words as if he thought (Y/n) may have called him by accident or not realised she was now on the phone to him.

"Hm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah… just- just wanted to hear your voice." Her voice sounded steadier than she had hoped and it made her relieved. She didn't want to worry Evan unnecessarily and make him panic or think something was wrong.

Because nothing was wrong, not really. A moment of panic had now been quenched by the sound of Evan's voice. (Y/n) could carry on, she could pick herself back up and get out there and try to actually do her job and hope none of the team had noticed her lapse in concentration.

"Why, what's going on?" There was a softness to his tone and (Y/n) could just imagine him sat there smiling.

She wasn't going to worry him. There was no point when telling Evan why she had worriedly called him would only serve to upset him. And there was no way to open up that conversation and tell him she had a brief panic at the thought of his accident.

"Nothing, just missed you."

"You're sweet." He tilted his head back, sliding further down the sofa he was reclined on with both legs hanging over the other side. And he shuffled Lilah who was laid on his chest with her head just beneath his collar bone. "Who's on the phone? Is it mummy?"

He got a little babbling response, a jumbled sound that was drowsy and showed that the toddler was about to fall asleep at any moment. But it was enough to have Evan smiling as he kissed her temple and ran his hand up and down her back, holding his phone closer to his ear with the other hand.

"So, you're missing me, huh?"

(Y/n) allowed a smile to pull at her lips. She felt better already.

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

(One year ago)

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Athena through blurry eyes when they both heard a knock at the door.

She reached her hand out to give her mum's hand a tight squeeze and the calming smile on Athena's face did wonders for (Y/n)'s raging nerves. They both had the same thought in mind. They both prayed it was Evan at the front door.

Athena leaned over to peck (Y/n)'s temple before she got up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall to open the door.

Just as Athena dipped out the room, (Y/n) leaned forward with one hand gripping the arm of the sofa and her other hand clutching at her stomach. she hunched over as much as she could until her stomach was pressing into her thighs and her head was tilted down.

God, these contractions were going to be the death of her.

A quiet groan burned at the back of her throat and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes but she willed them away. She couldn't be crying yet, not when she wasn't even fully dilated or at the point of pushing yet. But she couldn't help it.

She wanted Evan. She wanted him to come home.

She was two weeks away from her due date and had gone into labour right when Evan was in the middle of a night shift with the rest of the team. (Y/n) had been extremely lucky that when she rang her mum, Athena hadn't been on shift tonight. She had come straight over and when neither of them could get hold of Evan or Bobby, Athena called the next best person.

She rang Maddie who was on shift at dispatch and they kindly asked her to get the message across to the 118 that Evan would have to end his shift early. He needed to come home and be here when (Y/n) had their baby.

When the contraction subsided, (Y/n) let out a groan and started to rub circles along her stomach in the vain hope that it would take her mind off the budding pains. And the ache in her heart from not having Evan here. He promised to be here. He had been subtly whispering to her bump, telling the baby to make an appearance when Evan was home and that they had to wait patiently for him.

(Y/n) had playfully told Evan off two weeks ago when he had been talking to the baby and asked them to arrive promptly last week so Evan wouldn't have to go to dinner with his parents for his dad's birthday. It didn't happen. They all suffered through dinner together anyway. If (Y/n) went into labour then, at least Evan would have been by her side rather than on shift like he was now.

"Is- is that him?" (Y/n) tried to look over her shoulder but she couldn't see Athena in the hall from where she was sat in the living room.

But she couldn't hear voices either. Athena was speaking in hushed tones with whoever was at the door. That must mean it wasn't Evan, if it was he would have burst through the doors and found (Y/n) immediately.

With pursed lips set into a deep frown, (Y/n) reached across for the tv remote and promptly changed the channel. The stupid sitcom that had been on in the background was steadily getting on (Y/n)'s nerves. The gag lines were silly, the jokes weren't funny and the audience laughing was irritating her to no end.

She flicked through three channels, about to look through a few more until a headline on the late night news caught her attention.

LAFD Bombing.

Her head tilted to one side and her eyes narrowed as she watched the camera zoom in, clearly live recording from a helicopter hovering at the scene.

Someone had tried to blow up a fire truck. They were sectioning off the street while the fire brigade talked to the bomber who was actually on the scene. a few people had been hurt in the blast. Someone was trapped. One of the firemen was still stuck in the fire truck that had exploded on-route.

"We can't tell her-"

Maddie lost her train of thought and whatever she was about to say when a horrifying, gut-wrenching scream shook the walls of the house. She clutched the doorframe, her eyes locking with Athena as the pair of them bolted from the hall and into the living room.

It was too late.

More tears streamed down Maddie's face, despite the fact that she had been crying for over twenty minutes now since the news reel first started and showed her little brother in peril.

She had come straight over to help Athena take (Y/n) to hospital and be here with her while Evan couldn't. She had tried to explain what had happened, she didn't want (Y/n) to know. She didn't want her sister in law to panic or be in distress, not when she was already overwhelmed and in labour. But it seemed too late now.

Both of them scurried into the living room to find (Y/n) down on her knees in front of the coffee table. One hand gripping the table while the other clutched the tv remote close to her chest. She turned the volume up until all of them were wincing at the abrupt noises of the helicopter and the news reporters.

She had seen. (Y/n) had seen her husband, lying there on the floor with the entire fire truck crushing down on his leg.

No wonder he wasn't here already. He wasn't going to be here. Evan wasn't coming home, he was stuck. He was pinned down to the road like a fly trapped in a spider's web. Her husband was being crushed while she was splitting apart, about to have their first baby without him. There was no way Evan was going to be here to hold her hand or be by her side.

Did he even know she had gone into labour? Had he been told before this accident happened or was he still oblivious? What did it matter? Labour seemed insignificant compared to the horror Evan was going through.

Why were they broadcasting his anguish to the world?

"(Y/n)-"

"Oh honey."

A gurgling sob left (Y/n)'s lips as she pushed forward until her forehead was pressing down on the edge of the coffee table harsh enough that it was going to leave a mark soon.

When she felt Athena and Maddie reaching out for her, she roughly shook them off, but it wasn't like she could move very far. Not when her aching knees were now glued to the carpet and her stomach was tightening with every passing second.

"He- he's hurt!" The urgency in (Y/n)'s voice took Athena by surprise and only made fresh tears pour down Maddie's face.

This is what she had been afraid of. She had been worried about (Y/n) finding out and sending herself into a state of distress which wouldn't do her or the baby any good. She had hoped to keep (Y/n) ignorant and try to tell her that Evan had been caught up in a situation at work. Maybe tell her there was a bomber out there and the team were trying to diffuse the situation. She thought it would be easier to tell (Y/n) once she'd had the baby or once Evan was taken to hospital, whatever happened first.

"They're going to look after him, he'll be okay." Maddie looped her arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders and gently reeled her sister in law into her chest. She pecked the top of (Y/n)'s head and tried to rub her hand up and down her back, but she could see she wasn't helping very much.

Sobs continued to wrack (Y/n)'s body that was now trembling and when she reeled up, she looked back at the tv which was now zooming in on her husband's peril.

Showing Evan in all his anguish and agony, bright red in the face, spit dribbling down his chin as he screamed. Hands clawing at the road to try and drag himself free to no avail.

"Why isn't someone helping him?!" The words tore past (Y/n)'s lips with a violent scream before she launched the remote in her hand far across the room. Watching with anger and disgust as the remote hit the wall, rebounded into a picture frame and knocked it to the floor.

The shattering glass somehow made (Y/n) feel a little better. Something else other than her and Evan was shattering.

Why wasn't there someone knelt down beside her husband, telling him everything was going to be okay? Why wasn't someone holding his hand? Why was no one trying to move the truck and free her husband? How could they just stand back and leave him there like that, allowing the camera to get a closer view than the rest of them? That wasn't fair. They couldn't leave him in agony like that.

"We have t-to help him. I need to be there- be there with him." Each word came out with a hitched breath until (Y/n) was barely breathing and reduced to panting and gasping instead.

She moved her hands to the coffee table and tried her best to push up from where she was knelt on the floor. But both her legs were shaking and the moment she was on her feet, a cry errupted from her lips and her hands cupped her stomach that was twisting in agony.

She felt Athena rush to grab her arm and steady her and she allowed herself to lean into her mum's touch, letting Athena hold up some of her weight.

"Honey, we need to go to the hospital, these contractions are getting closer." Athena shakily brushed her free hand along (Y/n)'s cheek and leaned over to kiss her temple. (Y/n) was like another daughter to her. Since the moment she married Bobby, she had taken (Y/n) in as her own like Bobby had grown close to May and Harry.

She hated to see (Y/n) in distress like this much the same as she couldn't look at the tv and see Evan be trapped beneath that truck.

"No. No, I w-" She broke off with another cry as Maddie reached out for her waist to stop her from going back down on her knees. "Evan! He needs us."

Maddie couldn't stop her lower lip from wobbling and she sucked in a deep breath, doing her best to stop from bursting into another fit of tears. How could any of this be happening? How could her little brother be stuck in peril like that? How could (Y/n) be in labour at the exact same moment? How could they be separated in a moment where they should both be together? When they had both been planning to do this as one since the moment they found out about this baby.

"Buck has the team with him to look after him, and he wouldn't stand for you having his baby in the middle of the street, now would he?" The firm tone to Athena's voice made (Y/n) shiver and feel like she was a child being told the rules of the game.

Her head fell onto Athena's shoulder and a low whine passed her lips as she began to cry.

"Your dad is there with him, I'll call him when we're at the hospital to find out what's happening. And as soon as Buck is at the hospital with us, we can sort everything out. But we need to get you to the hospital to look after you and this baby."

"Buck will be taken to the hospital soon, better to be there waiting for him than stuck in traffic trying to reach him, hm?" Maddie's words made sense and seemed to calm down one of (Y/n)'s many erratic nerves.

The roads would be gridlocked. They had to get going now and it was lucky that Athena had sirens in her car so she could override the traffic that would undoubtedly be on the streets.

Rather than trying to get to Evan, by which time he could be transported to the hospital, they may as well get there first and wait for him. (Y/n) could be seen by the midwife, her and the baby would be safe and as soon as Evan was there, they would find out what was happening and get news of if he was alright or not.

They would wait for him at the hospital. And (Y/n) would try and hold on as long as she could. She didn't want this baby on her own, she wanted to know Evan was okay.

She wanted to see him before she gave birth.

***

"Why don't we sit down-"

"No."

Both (Y/n)'s hands planted down on the bed in front of her. Her lower back arched out and she leaned forward until her legs were ready to cave in beneath her and give way. Her knees were trembling. Her arms were rattling against the bedframe. She wanted to be sick.

She had shed so many tears she could have a river named after her. Both eyes were puffy and begging for rest, for a moment to sleep or fall closed and recover and to stop crying, but (Y/n) didn't know how. She didn't know how to stop crying when she could see her husband in dire distress, but she couldn't do anything to help him.

She didn't want to sit down, (Y/n) didn't want to be here in the first place. She changed her mind as soon as they arrived at the hospital. She wanted to turn round and go find Evan, she wanted to be there with him, to talk to him and tell him that she was here. She was nearby and she wanted him to know she wanted to help but she just didn't know how.

Another cry tumbled past her lips as her hands fisted in the bedsheets. She wasn't sure whether it was Maddie or Athena who was reaching out for her, but she didn't care. Their gentle touches and vain attempts to get her to move from her crouched position weren't working.

When the pain finally wore off, (Y/n) lifted her head and looked up at the tv in the corner of the room.

The news reel was playing. (Y/n) had been glued to watching any screen she could, looking at any monitor that was recording the live event and giving her a view of her husband in turmoil.

People had finally started to move to try and help him. Evan was no longer sprawled out on the floor on his own, in mass agony, with no way of getting himself free. The rest of the team had managed to pull themselves together and were trying to move the truck. As if any of them could lift that ten ton of steel and and equipment and oversized engine.

"How are we doing in here?" The same midwife who had showed them in peeked her head round the door. She had been doing regular checks and kept trying to insist (Y/n) try to sit and calm down because this was doing her blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat no favours. But (Y/n) wasn't in any fit state to listen.

(Y/n) didn't bother answering, she kept her gaze intently focused on the tv. She couldn't believe Evan hadn't passed out by now and she couldn't believe no one had gotten him free yet.

If they'd of gotten him out by now he could have been in the hospital. (Y/n) could have been with him, she could of held his hand and promised him everything was going to be okay.

She wished there was a way to pause her body and stop labour until Evan was in a fit state to be here, but that wasn't possible.

When another pain hit, (Y/n) couldn't stop her knees from giving out on her and she crumpled down into a squatting position. She thrust more weight onto her arms, quivering through the pain as Maddie tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor and Athena's hands held onto her waist to try and coil her up.

"If you're pushing, we really need to get you on the bed." There was a sense of urgency in the midwife's voice and she got as close as she could considering Maddie and Athena were crowding her like bodyguards.

(Y/n) didn't have the willpower to argue with them anymore.

Her hands clawed at the bed once the pain wore off and left her cramping and aching and splitting apart in dull infrequent waves. It didn't feel good to be sitting down like it did to be crouching or pacing around the room. Pacing kept her mind busy and gave her something to do.

And (Y/n) was fearful that as soon as she sat down, she would progress further and have the baby without Evan, although that seemed inevitable now.

"I think you're ready, let's get settled to push, shall we?" The sympathy in the midwife's voice did nothing to settle the anguish in (Y/n)'s heart.

Her head began to shake and her lower lip wobbled as a horrid sob wracked her chest. This wasn't how things were supposed to play out. She was supposed to be safe at home with Evan when she went into labour. He was supposed to time the contractions and take her to hospital and hold her hand and help her through this.

He was supposed to be here making jokes and kissing her hand and telling her all the random facts about labour and kids that he had learned to go along with all the pregnancy facts he had been telling her the last few months.

Evan wasn't supposed to be stuck with their entire damn fire truck crumpling down on his leg and people desperately trying to set him free.

"I c- I can't have this baby yet-" Her head began to shake and she tugged on Athena's hand as if her mum could somehow do something to rectify this situation.

"Honey, you don't have much of a choice."

Maddie sat down on the left side of the bed and let (Y/n) deadlock their hands together. She reached out with her free hand and gently ran her fingers through (Y/n)'s damp, matted hair, brushing the strands away from her face as she herself was in tears once again.

She hadn't expected to be here when (Y/n) gave birth, she had expected to have the most overjoyed, hyper phone call from her little brother telling her when (Y/n) went into labour. And then another call to ask her to come down to the hospital once her niece or nephew was born.

But when she came along to bring (Y/n) down here, (Y/n) hadn't let go of her hand and Maddie took that as a silent hint that (Y/n) didn't want her to go. And she didn't want to go either. Maddie didn't want to go home and wait anxiously in vain for news of both (Y/n) and Evan.

She had to be here, whether that was in the room right now giving (Y/n) support or just sitting in the hallway waiting for news on either her or Evan. Being in here made Maddie feel useful and it was a distraction.

"You can push on the next contraction."

(Y/n) didn't reply, but she did as she was told and started to push. Her knees coiled up, she pulled both Athena and Maddie's hands towards her chest and she leaned forward as much as she could to see if it would help.

But she stopped, every part of her body going rigid and becoming tense as her head snapped up to the tv.

A small 'oh' left her lips before a round of "Evan!" croaked into the air causing the other girls to look up at the tv.

Dozens upon dozens of passers by in the street were pushing the fire truck. Everyone was leaning against it, forcing all of their weight onto the structure to try and get Evan free.

(Y/n) ignored the next contraction, droning out the midwife's nervous instructions and she tried not to push as she put all of her focus on the tv. Silent sobs wracked her lips and had her trembling back and forth as she watched Hen and Eddie reach out for Evan to try and pull him free, while every other civilian there pushed on the truck.

What hurt (Y/n) the most was seeing Evan scrape his hand against the road. He was trying to help. He had hundreds of pounds of metal crushing down on his leg, pinning him to the road, he was in more agony than he ever had been in his life. And there he was, trying to help get himself free, trying to drag himself along the road to make it easier on everyone else.

The news reporter was close enough that Evan's horrid scream of terror managed to get broadcast on the tv and (Y/n)'s only response was to cry his name through wet lips as another contraction hit and she started to push.

"He- he's free."

"They've got him, they've got him honey."

"He'll be okay now." Maddie leaned forward when (Y/n) dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder and Maddie kissed the top of her head, weaving her other arm around (Y/n)'s waist.

(Y/n) coiled her legs up tighter until her knees were pressing into her stomach and she pushed. Unable to stop herself from muttering Evan's name on a loop as if it was the only thing she could understand. She was almost there, she was about to have her baby in her arms, and the one person she wanted here with her was nowhere to be seen.

The news reel changed to a wider angle of the whole scene and the reporter switched back to someone in the studio. Evan was free, they weren't going to record the team getting him into an ambulance and racing him away from the scene. But he was free. He was free from the constraints of the fire truck and now he would be here within ten minutes, all being well.

But he was still going to miss the birth.

***

"We're here! Buck, we're here." Reaching down, Bobby gripped Evan's arm and did his best to try and smile, but he couldn't manage it. Not when he could see the damage done to his son in law's leg.

He could see the dramatic sight where skin and muscle had been split apart and the bone was visible. He could see breaks in the bone and splinters of bone pushing out at odd angles. He could see through the gauze that was moulding into Evan's wound from soaking up all the blood that the strap around his thigh couldn't cut off.

It didn't look good.

Both Eddie and Hen had been doing their best to make him comfortable on the ride down here, but it was hard. They couldn't give him any morphine, not when he was going to need X-rays and scans and an emergency operation. Morphine and anaesthetic didn't always mix well and Evan had a bad track history with medications causing severe reactions.

All they could give him was the gas and air tube to breathe through and although it had done nothing to take the edge off, Evan had been breathing it in since the moment they got him in the ambulance.

"Let's get you inside, you're gonna be just fine." Hen's voice was soothing, but Evan couldn't believe her words.

He didn't feel fine.

He didn't feel as if he was going to be fine or make a swift recovery from this.

He felt like he was going to be put under anaesthetic and wake up with one leg. He could feel each piece of tattered skin desperately trying to cling to his leg. He could feel his leg pulsing and aching from where the blood supply had been cut off mid-way down his thigh. Evan felt like his body was on fire, his leg was disconnected and each breath was becoming harder to take.

When Eddie reached across to try and take the gas and air tube from his grip, a deep growl emmited from Evan's lips and he clenched his hand tight around the tube.

He pulled the strange looking mask back to his lips and inhaled three fast, choked breaths. The tubes were always switched and cleaned out after every use, but Evan had a feeling they would have to bin this one. He had chomped down so hard on the tube that he had left puncture indents in the plastic.

"No! It f-fucking kills-"

"Buck, you can have more pain relief once you're inside, I swear. Mate please, please we have to move you now." Eddie felt horrible when he had to prize Evan's fingers from the gas and air and as soon as he let go, they clipped off the breaks and moved the stretcher.

Bobby leaned down and took Evan's hand once they all climbed down and Chimney rushed from the driver's seat. He held Evan's hand high to his chest as Evan started to thrash around on the gurney.

His chest stuttered up and down and repeatedly pushed back to the point the gurney was shaking and about to unlock and lower down. His free hand curled into a fist and slammed into the metal frame harsh enough to split some of the skin around his knuckles.

He was in agony. He needed it to stop.

"(Y/n). Have- have you- fuck. (Y/n)." Evan couldn't get his thoughts in order, the only thing in his head and the one word that could properly be muttered from his lips was his wife's name.

They had been on their way back to the station when the bomb hit. They had been going back specifically because Maddie came through the radio and said (Y/n) had gone into labour. That was the call Evan had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. He had been anxious about when (Y/n) would go into labour and if it would happen while he was at work.

He had been ecstatic. He had been bouncing in his seat, riding shotgun in the truck for the first time in ages and he and Bobby had been debating whether it would be a boy or a girl.

Now, Evan had no idea what was happening. He didn't know who was with (Y/n) or if she was alone right now. He didn't know if she was still home or if someone had taken her to the maternity ward. He didn't know if she was in agony, if anything had gone wrong, if she was having complications or sailing through labour without him.

Bobby tightened his hand around Evan's and leaned down so he could talk to him better because he knew Evan was now having a hard time concentrating and taking things in. Who wouldn't in his state?

"Athena and Maddie brought her to the hospital, once you're inside I'll go find them. She'll be okay."

While waiting for people to help get Evan free, Bobby had answered the third phone call from his wife. All he knew so far was they had brought (Y/n) in and labour was in full swing, they were just waiting for her to dilate. But his daughter was here and she was safe, that was all Bobby needed to know for now while he focused on looking after his son in law.

"I wa- I want-" Evan broke off into an animalistic howl when the gurney jolted over the threshold into the emergency room and the shock sent his leg jerking. Shockwaves rattled up and down his spine and both legs shook as if he had been electrocuted.

He lifted his head and shoulders, doing his best to sit up although he wasn't sure what he was doing, he just wanted to move.

He wanted the pain to stop.

Tears flushed down his face and a broken sob left his lips when he locked onto a familiar frame stood anxiously by the reception desk.

He could see his big sister stood with a bright red face, puffy eyes and tears streaked down her features. She had both hands interlocked in front of her in that panicked manner where she would scratch her nails along the back of her hands until they were rubbed raw. The moment she looked their way, it was as if a light had come and gone in her eyes all at once.

She ran across the floor and grabbed Evan's outstretched hand, pulling it up so she could kiss the back of his hand. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm and her lips wobbled, unable to hold back a sob when she looked at her baby brother who had been more of a son to her at times.

"Oh, oh Buck."

Evan let out another sob while the team paused the gurney in the hallway and Eddie moved to flag someone down. This was a dire emergency, they needed a doctor here now and they needed Evan taken to theatre before he lost his leg.

"W-where's (Y/n)?" Evan had spent the last few hours wondering what was happening with his wife, if she was okay, if he could be taken to her at some point.

He had tried arguing with Bobby on the journey down here, asking if he could see (Y/n) before he went for whatever surgery he was going to need. Of course Bobby said no, that wasn't going to be an option. Evan couldn't delay any form of treatment, not for a minute or an hour. He had to be taken straight to theatre.

"She's on the maternity ward."

"Is she-"

"She's fine… oh Buck, you've got a beautiful little girl." Maddie reached her hand out to brush her finger down his bloodied cheek as a broken smile formed on her lips.

But her smile faded into an open-mouthed, hollow frown when Evan's entire face fell. His jaw loosened and slacked like it had become disconnected, his eyes glossed over and his nose crinkled making him look like a snarling dog.

"I m- I missed it? I- oh God- Bobby-" The most horrid scream any of them ever heard erupted from Evan's lips and shook the walls.

He ripped his hand free from Maddie's hold, slammed his fist down into the frame of the gurney and writhed until he almost toppled off the gurney. He fought and thrashed against all the hands that pinned him down and ignored their panicked screams for a doctor.

He missed it.

He missed his daughter's birth. He hadn't been there. He promised (Y/n) he would be with her from the moment she went into labour to the moment their precious baby would be in their arms. He said he would do anything he could to be there and that he wouldn't let her down, and now, he had broken those promises.

He couldn't see (Y/n), he couldn't hold his daughter. He couldn't cut the cord or hold her for the first time the moment she was born. He wasn't going to see her on her birthday, if he was going for an operation he wouldn't be conscious or lucid enough to see her for another day, possibly two.

A chorus of exploding emotions erupted to life in his chest and wailed past his lips but it didn't feel like anyone was listening to him. And Evan was too far gone into his despair to hear anyone try to comfort him. He didn't want comfort. He wanted a time machine. Evan wanted the chance to go back and make sure this didn't happen.

He wanted to rewind time and sit in the back of the truck with the rest of the team so he could scramble out without being trapped. He wanted to get out of that truck unscathed and rush down to the hospital and hold his wife's hand as she gave birth to their daughter.

This wasn't fair.

Tortured screams left Evan's lips and (Y/n)'s name spat past his lips on repeat as the gurney began to move and hands continued to pin him down.

But the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the agony overwhelming his heart.

[puppydollgstar]

Poly TF141 x Fem!Reader

This is a really self indulgent little fic! Pronouns for reader are she/they. Reader is also caribbean (I am reader lmao)

A very self indulgent little writing piece bc I'm sad and woke up alone today :( (my family was out for work and it's been a hard week for me aaaa) its unedited so probably filled w a bunch of mistakes lmao

Story below the cut! :)

You wake up, the heavy fog of sleep still pressing you firmly to the mattress. Even though your eyes are open, squinting at the dim lights of the room, you make out the voices and silhouettes of your loved ones. Price, or at least whatever sounds like him, was in the kitchen, talking lowly to someone. His voice was still gruff with fatigue but he sounded calm and content. You could hear the static of the TV from the living room, some sort of sport channel was playing. A stifled voice hissed over the noise of the TV, "keep it down, you'll wake them." That had to be Kyle. He was always so worried about you. "Sorry." That was Johnny. You heard the creaking of the couch, then the ruffling of pillows and blankets. "Oh shit!" A loud clatter on the ground, then the groaning of the couch shifting beneath Johnny's weight. "Hope you didn't break the remote." Kyle snickered. "Bah...it'll be fine. Nothin a little duct tape can't fix." The couch creaked again as more weight was added to it. The Hum from the TV soon got quieter.

"See? It's fine." Johnny again. You could practically hear Kyle rolling his eyes. Suddenly, a high pitched squealing caused your heart to stutter. You opened your eyes, only to then recognize the noise to be the sound of the Kettle. Simon's brewing tea most likely. You heave out a sigh, placing a hand on your chest to feel the beating of your heart slow down again. That sound was enough to wake you. You sighed and rolled over, tightening the sheets around you. The mattress beneath your body heaved out an angry creak from the shift of your weight. Suddenly, footsteps and a knock at your door. The hinges creaked as the dim light from the living room flooded your dark bedroom. "Morning sleeping beauty." You could hear the smile in Price's voice.

Lifting the covers off of your head, you turned to peek at him within your nest of blankets. His smile then turned into that signature grin, the one that makes him look like a big soft teddy bear. Walking toward your blanket burrito, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before grabbing the hem of your Bonnet and sliding it back down onto your hair. "Left your breakfast on the stove. You can heat it up when you're ready." Wrapping his arms around your big cocoon, he gave you a tight squeeze before exiting the room. "Princess is up?" Kyle asked. "Might need a minute or two to rest. Best you boys leave her be for now." You could hear price grunt and the Crack of his back as he leaned down to press a kiss to either Johnny or Kyle. Honestly, maybe both.

You rested for about 10 more minutes before lifting yourself out of bed. Shivering at the cool air of your room, you reached for a nearby sweater. Pulling the hoodie over your head, you realized that it was Simon's. He probably forgot it in here when he kissed you goodnight. You then reached over your bed and grabbed your favourite plushie, snuggling it close to your chest before stepping out your room. Johnny and Kyle were snuggled up on the couch and greeted you both with soft smiles.

"Mornin, Hen. You sleep well?" Johnny's voice was soft. He opened his arms for a hug. Approaching your boyfriends, you then kneeled on to the ground and wrapped your arms around their waists. Resting your head in Kyle's lap, you then looked up at Johnny with a smile. "Yeah..I slept good.".

"Glad to hear it, babygirl." Kyle leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before reaching down to affectionately squeeze your shoulder. The three of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying the warmth of one another along with the hum of the TV.

Johnny let out a yawn, stretching his arms and groaning at the quiet 'pop' of his shoulder. "Price and I tried to make ackee and saltfish. I think it turned out pretty okay. We left you a plate for breakfast." You felt your mouth water at the thought of breakfast. You weren't really hungry the night before so you skipped on dinner. "You mean to tell me, your pasty Scottish ass combined with John's British self, both tried to make a Caribbean dish?" You laughed. "Emphasis on tried." Kyle added, a small snicker of his own. "Well...I thought it was okay..." Johnny looked a bit sheepish. "We did end up burning the bake though...But you can't fault us! Its hard as shit to fry dough in oil.". You laughed, getting up off the floor and holding your stuffy close, "Well, I haven't even tried it yet. I'll be the judge of if you disgraced my culture or not." leaning down, you press a kiss to both of your boyfriends before walking toward the kitchen.

The aroma of ackee and saltfish filled your nostrils along with....Chocolate tea? At the table, Price sat with a mug of coffee and a few papers from an overdue report. Simon stood at the kitchen island with two mugs of tea. "Hey, lovie." He smiled, lifting his balaclava over the bridge of his nose to take a sip of the tea. You made your way over to Price, hugging him from behind and pressing a kiss to his temple before walking over to Simon. "Didn't know you like chocolate tea." You smiled, grabbing the cup next to his and taking a sip. The warm flavours of cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate hit your pallet, filling your belly with that fuzzy feeling of comfort and nostalgia. "Didn't know either till today. Price and I stopped by a Caribbean market earlier this morning. Saw it on the shelves and thought to give it a try." he shrugged before taking another swig from his mug. Setting your cup down, you then walked toward him and pressed your face into his chest. Your own lazy way of giving him a hug. He laughed before setting his own mug down and wrapping his arms around you, lifting the hem of your bonnet to smother your forehead in kisses before pulling it down over your eyes.

"Hey!" you playfully scolded, lifting it back up to your forehead. Simon took a playful swat at your ass before walking over to the stove and grabbing your plate of food. "Take a seat, I'll warm your breakfast."

Pulling out the chair next to Price, you then sat down and leaned your head against his shoulder. "Glad to see you up and about, love." Price smiled, wrapping an arm around you. Simon came back and placed your heated plate of food in front of you, "Enjoy." he smiled, leaning down to quickly peck your cheek and kiss Price before heading to the living room.

You shut your eyes, enjoying the smells and soundscapes that filled your home. From Price flipping through the various pages of his reports to the grumbling of Simon, telling Johnny to "move his thick ass over." on the couch. you felt content. You felt at home.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥

18+ mdni

Series Master list

Some Sunday at the Price house...|

Johnny looked around his Captain’s place and took note of where each and every camera was. Until he could convince you to move to a more secure location. Your second floor flat wasn't cutting it for him, and even though the building door was key-fob entry, he knew all too well that a determined person could bypass it. He was more than prepared to drop quite a bit of money on a home security system and bribe his mates into helping him install it.

“So!” Mrs.Price had flopped down on the couch and watched as he and her husband discussed the pros and cons of each system. “Hubby tells me you got a girl and a baby now Soap!”

Johnny looks up at his Captain and raises an eyebrow, “Really Cap?”

Price only laughs, a deep belly laugh, “I don't keep anything from my Sweetheart. You know that, I suspect it will be the same for you and your bird.”

Mrs.Price shakes her head, “Can I see a picture of them?” She's got that mischievous look on her face. “I heard you ended up with an American.”

“Aye, ah did.” He pulls out his phone and flips through the many photos he's taken in the past three weeks of his Chuilein and mini me. He stops at the photo of her and Omari and smiles.

It's his favorite photo by far. A picture of his girl holding his little boy, her hair is a bit messy and frizzy, and she's sitting on the couch blowing raspberries in Omari's tummy. She's his wee bonnie lass, and it makes his heart clench. Omari has his little fist resting against her head, and that little gummy smile is as big as his face. He shows the picture to Mrs.Price and just as expected, the woman melts.

“Aaaww he's a little fat man! Looks exactly like you. Did she even contribute anything other than the color pallet?” Mrs.Price stops grinning as she squints at the photo. “Now Soap, why does she look like this?”

Price stops explaining the specs and tilts his head, “Sweetheart-” He wants to stop his wife before she starts scolding Johnny.

“Seriously, does she know you have this picture of her?” Mrs.Price is scolding Johnny, and there's a frown on her face. “Poor girl looks a mess, and I can tell she hasn't been wearing her bonnet or a scarf.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth and hands him back his phone.

“I thought she looked nice?” He looks at Price with question and confusion on his face. Price only shrugged his shoulders.

“Here's what you're gonna do.” Mrs.Price clapped her hands, “Soap, you're gonna take her to my hairdressers, pay for more than a wash and go, maybe a silk press if she wants it and after you're gonna send her to the nail salon and insist they take good care of her there!”

Johnny is a bit confused, “why?”

“Because, you're with an American Black Woman. And it looks like she hasn't worn her silk bonnet in days. Trust me.”

Johnny doesn't question the orders he's given as he watches Mrs.Price call up her hairdresser and make sure she's got a few openings for the week. Once that's done, a pretty dark blue bonnet still in the wrapper is shoved into his hands. Mrs.Price is smiling, and then she is giving Captain a look.

“I expect to be pregnant in two months…Soap's little boy needs a cousin.” She laughs, and Johnny takes it as his cue to leave. He really thought his hen looked fine, but if Mrs.Price said otherwise, he'd listen and adjust as needed.

Chapter 5: Who takes care of the family's daughter…when she's always taken care of others? 🤔

The Hot Bitch Club 🔥💖🔥GC

Rosette: So John went and sent you to get your hair done and nails done, gave you a pretty new silk bonnet and insisted he take care of Big Mari for the day? He's a keeper.🥹😌

Jay: He's tryna hit.

Aaliyah: do NOT sleep with your baby daddy!

You: 🙄 he isn't trying to sleep with me. I am choosing to see this as a push present that's late.

Aaliyah: a push present is NOT the bare minimum of what he's supposed to be doing. A push present is him getting you a car, Dior, a bag. 💅🏾

You: Aaliyah plz…

Jay: did we gloss over the he's tryna hit part? 🤨 cause he wouldn't be comfortable doing this if he wasn't given the space to begin with.

You: Jay what?🤦🏾‍♀️

Jay: as the only nigga in this group chat, I would like to point out how odd it is that he's going out of his way like this.

Rosette: I would like to remind everyone that John is not black nor is he subjected to that type of scummy culture and shouldn't be held to the same standards. Maybe he really wants to do right by the mother of his child and make things easier.😟😟

Jay: a nigga is a nigga no matter the color of his skin or whatever Jesus said 😮‍💨, we all saw how he was the night Omari was conceived. He had like five Hennessy shots back to back no chaser!!!

Aaliyah: he did didn't he 😂😂😂 I thought I was wilding with my little drink and he knocking them back like it was water! Let's not forget them body shots 👀👀👀

You: 🤦🏾‍♀️

Rosette: he seemed to enjoy drinking alcohol out of your navel 😏

You: 🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ Who side are you on 😩

Jay: focus! The only way to make sure he's not on that type of time, is to not have sex with him. Actively deny him, lay out the boundary.

You: he got my hair and nails done to be nice. He takes care of Omari, like a present father should. And he's just a bit paranoid and wants us safe. I don't think he's concerned about trying to have sex with me.

You: besides…my sex drive is shot right now. It's like a desert down there right now.

Aaliyah: 😒 hmm okay

You: I should block all of you. 🚫

Rosette: okay but before you do that, I have a request!

Rosette: I want us all to go out and I wanna invite Kylie and his friends

Rosette: Aaliyah 🥺🥺🥺

Aaliyah: no.

You: what's going on? Did you just refer to him as ‘Kylie’? 🤔🤨

Rosette: I want us all to go on a group date.

Jay: will there be a girl involved? 👀👀👀

Rosette: aren't you talking to someone right now?

You: she is…

Jay: I'm not letting my girlfriend get in the way of me finding my wife.😌

You: foul😫 you single handily give studs a bad name!

Aaliyah: rude! This why the last girl busted out your car windows as soon as you got back to atl earlier this year.

Rosette: back on topic. Plz just give his friend Simon a chance? 🙏🏾

Aaliyah: fine. But you owe me.

Rosette: great! 😉😉😉😉

You shake your head and go back to wrapping up your hair. It's been a while since you got a silk press and the smooth texture of your hair made you smile. It was the first time in weeks that you felt like yourself and the first time since Omari has been home, you were able to do your nightly routine without having him right next to you.

Your mind wanders back to what was said in the group chat about Johnny and his recent actions. When he handed you the silk bonnet, some part of you felt an odd warmth. Your regular bonnet had been misplaced for days and you had given up on trying to find it. Between Omari deciding to insist on acting brand new and crying for hours on end at any inconvenience and your boss being difficult, your hair had fallen to the wayside. So when Johnny gave you that bonnet this morning and sent you on your way to get your hair and nails done, you cried as soon as he closed the door and you were in your car.

That crying fit would need to be dissected in therapy. Because it was an ugly cry, the “leave Britney alone” kind of cry. For now though, you would blame it on hormones and postpartum depression.

With your hair finally wrapped up and face mask put on for the night, you went and plopped down on the couch next to Johnny. He had started making himself comfortable in your apartment, often coming over and staying to cook dinner or breakfast or even buying food for the fridge.

“So…” You say as you tuck your legs under you and lean against the couch arm, “we need to talk.”

“Aye, we do.” He hasn't taken his eyes off of Omari and continues to shake the baby rattle in his face. “Ye go first Chuilein.”

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, “You do know I am not gonna sleep with you right?” You side eye him at just the right angle.

His body tenses up and he looks at you, “I ken tha.”

“Good, because I don't want you to get the wrong idea or anything.”

“And what idea should I nae get?” He turns to face you completely. His blue eyes seem concerned, brows furrowed together. Omari gets readjusted so that he can sit up and play with his rattle.

“That just because you do nice things for me…doesn't mean I'm gonna sleep with you. You really only need to worry about Omari.” For the most part, you keep your voice and face impassive. On the inside you are thinking about the horror stories of other single mothers putting up with the fathers of their children so he would stick around. Stories of your GiGi come to mind and you supress a shiver.

“Ah’m s'pposed tae do nice things because yur tha mum of mah son…an’ I want tae take care of ye Chuilein.” He sounds almost hurt at your words. “I donnae want ye ta even think like tha.”

Color you shocked when he gets up and puts Omari down in his bouncer. The baby whines and whimpers, a threat for him to start crying. Johnny only gives him a smile and whispers that he will be okay. Then Johnny turns back to you and sits down, grabbing your hand and that stern look is back on his face. It's out of place, usually he is smiling, grinning like a loon, or has a relaxed air about him. Now though, you feel like you're under a microscope being judged just slightly.

“Ye are mah bonnie lass. Tha mum of mah first born son. If ye were upset ‘bout the joke I made ‘bout the Irish twins ah'm sorry chuilein. An’ I don't do nice things ‘cause I wanna sleep wit ye.” He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and gives you a reassuring smile. “I do it ‘cause that's what a man is s'pposed to do.”

“John-” you go to say but for some reason your mind blanks and there's a wetness on your cheeks and he's wiping it away. It takes a moment but you realize you're crying.

“I mean it chuilein. Donnae ye ever feel like ye have to repay me f’takin’ care ‘of ye and Omari. I want tae.” He shushes whatever else you were gonna say with that one saying.

You only nod your head and immediately avert your eyes. Yeah your therapist was going to be earning her check the next time you saw her and you began to unpack today's crying spell. Who would have known a damn bonnet, hair appointment, nail appointment and being able to apply a face mask (that you ruined by crying just now) was enough to make you feel sick? “Thank you Johnny. It makes me feel better to know that.”

“Have ye been see'in your doctors bonnie?” He asks, “I worry ‘bout ya and I wanna make sure you're okay.”

“I haven't the time. Between work and Omari-”

“Then wha should ah do to help make sure ye have time?”

You frown and snatch your hand away from his grip, “I don't know Johnny. I just want time to do my hair and not feel like I'm always the last person I think about.”

He only nods his head, “Set up a weekly appointment for yer hair yea?”

You look at him, a snarky reply on your lips but he beats you to speak first.

“No argument. I'll pay for it, and whatever else makes ye feel better.” He is leaving no room for arguments and gets up to pick up Omari. His attention now fully on his son. “Gonna get mini me a bath, should go down easy t'night. Mah mum sent told me bairns get tired wit tummy time and he's had so much of tha t'day.” He moves to leave but stops. “Lemme know when ye make your therapist appointment and I'll make sure to have off so ah can be wit Omari for tha day.” And just like that he's back to his happy and goofy self speaking Gaelic to the baby.

That night, after Johnny had bathed and gave Omari a bottle, he paced back and forth trying to make sense of why you had even thought he was being nice with the expectation of sex being involved. He prided himself in not being that type of guy, the quid pro quo type that abused every little interaction. He saw the worst the world had to offer, had seen women do anything to keep their children safe. He was actively trying to make sure he never acted in any manner that would make you, his bonnie lass, his future Missus, feel uncomfortable.

Omari had spit out the nipple to his bottle, and began to talk to him.

“Ye need tae be sleep soon mini.” He whispered and adjusted him so he could burp him. “Ye also need ta give your mum a break, she works hard enough as is.”

Omari only whines and coos, trying to lift his head. Johnny kisses his cheek and smiles. “Do ye ken why ye mum is feeling that way?” He asks, knowing he won't get an answer. Blue sleepy eyes only stare back at him, and Johnny gets an idea of who he can talk to. He sits down and calls his sister Davina.

She answers with a yawn, “Yea Johnny?”

And as soon as she says that, Johnny hurriedly in a hushed whisper recounts his talk with Davina. She listens and doesn't judge and when he is done with his tale, she rolls her eyes.

“Is she the eldest sibling?” Davina asks, “or is she the only daughter? Or both?”

“I think she's the only daughter, gots two older brothers an’ a younger brother.” He tilts his head and stares at the video screen.

Davina is not impressed and she makes it known. “The poor woman's da is a colonel and her mum probably had her hands full wit four kids, three bein’ boys…she probably innit used ta being looked after wit’ out need'n ta give back…just make everythin easy f'her.” Davina nods her head like the answer should have been obvious.

And Johnny feels bad for even needing to ask, “Hm…ye think she'd lemme move her in wit me?”

“Ye go on missions so often and fer so long.” She sighs, “ye need ta talk to her first ‘bout yer job an’ still learn to parent wit her.”

“I feel like-” He begins to protest. He feels like things are moving too slow. He wants to live under the same roof as his lass and bairn. He wants to make up for the last year of not being there. He is worried that the next mission may be his last and he won't be able to give his little family what they deserve. He finally understands why Price went out of his way to get his wife to elope with him after deciding that her visiting for a holiday wouldn't be enough. It was the pressing need to speedrun life, to try and do everything just in case a bullet ever found him out in the field.

“I ken ye feel like ye donnae have all tha time in your line ‘f work…but ye need ta be smart ‘bout this. A relationship with yur hen is gonna be complicated especially since tha baby got here first ‘fore tha ring an’ house.” Davina gives him a look of sympathy. “Just support her an’ take care ‘f ye bairn. It'll work out.”

Johnny nods his head. He is positive he can make it work.

a/n: how you all doing? Sorry I didn't post last night. I had to clear it with my morals about posting the n-word…and then I realized this is my story so I'm gonna use it. I don't care if non-black people reblog this chapter or any chapter where that word shows up, but I don't want you all making some silly think piece about it. This story is very much a black story at its core and that word is being used in its proper context in relation to the reader and the OCs that use it. That's all.

Also...who noticed who Price is married to? 👀 (go read my P.Y.T series to find out.)

Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen @vmaxis @curiouslittleprincess

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 07 - "Only For Emergencies"

New Tawhoque was a dangerous place for Ssaelit, but if a woman knew just what crooked street to turn down and upon which unmarked door to knock, she might find a sanctuary or two open to those of the Way.

This one was a public house (semi-private house, really, they did not allow Gefendur) called Arbert's. A woman slipped its heavy front door closed behind her and pretended she didn't notice the wall of eyes move to sweep across her from the bar. Finding the newcomer hidden beneath a dumpy rain slicker and a waterproof bonnet, the collective gaze rolled back towards their whispered conversations and their glasses of imported beer. She chose a hightop in the corner, asked for a cheap pour of Trieste, and unwrapped her hand to see if the bleeding had stopped.

"They cut your finger off," a male voice observed behind her. She jumped a foot in the air, then collapsed forward over the injury to hide it from him.

"It is nothing!" she said.

"It is nothing now," he agreed, "But until recently I think it was your right index finger."

"Oh, why do you care? Did you want it?"

She turned. Her shoulders hunched even higher to discover an unreasonably tall man looking down at her, his face half a void of shadow. "Perhaps," he admitted at length. The words sounded strange. Artificial. Pymaric? What a strange thing to say, and in what a strange voice to say it! "Which of the gangs have you crossed?"

"I did not 'cross' any of them!" Her head lashed back and forth in pain, then anger. "I am a good and honest woman! I went to the constabulary! I went to report all my hens dead!"

"O-oh!" He seemed to suddenly lose a foot of height, shocked. Perhaps he loved animals too?

She continued: "I think my neighbour's hounds had at them in the night. One of the constables said it would cost thirty sem for them to go and investigate the scene. I pointed my finger in his face and called him a villain. Then he said he would have that finger, and before I knew it he had nipped it free with a spell! Have you ever heard of such a thing? That is not how policing works!"

"Naught works in the expected manner here," the stranger whispered. For all his prior forwardness, he suddenly seemed to be avoiding the sight of her gory hand. "I… am afraid I can be of no help confronting the local lawmen, but I would happily pay for your drink and direct you towards a more honest physician than the twin-eating sawbones you will find on the high street."

His voice was unnervingly tinny, but there was warmth there. In spite of her anxiety and her throbbing hand, she tried to wind down. She hadn't been in town very long but even the Ssaelit she had tried to befriend were standoffish. She was beginning to understand why. Sharteshane was a land of traps and predators; everyone was waiting to see what you had, and if you were strong enough to protect it. Why she had supposed the law would be different, now seemed beyond her. A final illusion shattered.

"Is it still raining?" he prompted when she took too long to decide on an answer. "It is forever raining here. It is as though the city must be kept wet, or its amphibian skin will crack open."

"And out will pour the bloody flies," she agreed, removing her coat. It had done little good. The clothing beneath was sodden, draping, and she coloured to realise how prominently her bosom rose. Oh, dear, her nipples were visible too. These cheap Sharteshanian weaves simply did not reflect her patterns correctly-

Now it was the stranger's turn to give a start! He shuddered and stumbled away as though burnt. Had it been the fly remark that had disturbed him? He was surely scandalized to hear such language from an Aldishwoman. Of course he would be! Soon she would be a ribald Sharte, all cusses and swears-

Ach, no, no. He was trying not to look at her chest. A gentleman! Of course.

"You must forgive me, sir! I dove into the rain after the attack without first buttoning my slicker and… and…" Her good hand fumbled at her bonnet, slipped it free of her head so he could see her earnest green eyes. Oh, a mistake! Now he would see she was a Soud, and hate her-

He stumbled again, struck, and grabbed at his midsection! Then from her eyes to her hair his attention alighted once more upon her missing digit.

"What is it?" she demanded, "Are you ill? What is wrong with you!"

"D-did you keep your finger?" he sputtered, almost wailed, "Or did the constable take it?"

"What a question! You monster! Bartender!"

"Bartender!" he echoed, "Aye, please bring to me my emergency order! I require my emergency order!"

A moment's pause, and a broad-shouldered Bronze suddenly jumped the bar. He was nearly seven feet tall, with a touch of the Glut about him. A steaming hot bar towel was in his grasp. The stranger grabbed it, two-fisted it with all the alacrity of a drowning man reaching for a watertight coffin. Then she swore she heard a hiss as his impossibly perfect white teeth bit down upon it hard. When he started gnawing it like the hounds last night had surely gnawed at her poor hens, she flew from the pub, never gathering the courage to ask if he'd been the one to leave nothing in that coop but two beaks and a pile of bloody feathers.

[flowerfreya]

Rambling

Influencer girlfriend x 141

You know the videos on TikTok where the girl goes to bed “ugly” to wake up “pretty” . Meaning you would have rollers in your hair covered by a bonnet, collegen mask on , and mouth tape. You used to sleep in the chin strap but it got to be to much. And you don’t sleep in this every night. This is a treat yourself to spa night routine or if the boys have duty and they won’t be home will you do this routine while eating a girl dinner and drink the sweetest the dessert wine you can find. But they one day they come home early.

“What’s on your face, hen”, Soap ask he looks a little terrified honestly they all do. Simon is just staring intently at you , Gaz is covering his mouth trying not to laugh and Price also look scared and confused at the same time.

“It’s a face mask helps my skin glow, do you wanna try it”.

Only one hand goes up which of course is Gaz , he seems very interested

Simon mentions under his breath that your skin already glows.

“I’m about to go to sleep , Price do you want to try some mouth tape it will help with mouth breathing at night” and hopefully snoring because he is the loudest out of the bunch.

[smolvenger]

Our Society At Cranford (William Buxton x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As Miss Matty's companion, you struggle to gain the attention of the handsome young Mr. Buxton. It appears you need a little help from the ladies of Cranford...

A/N: Not my best or most edited work. No stakes (unless you count marriage for women in the 1840's as stakes which back then it was) and only vibes. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Technically none other than some angst and attempts at Victorian-era accuracy. But then nothing but fluff and vibes. If I miss anything, let me know!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were infatuated with him since the day his dog ran into the church and urinated on the altar.

That morning, you thought you heard the sound of tapping paws and opened your eyes to see a little dog in the church. Everyone was dipping their heads down in prayer. Oblivious to a little mischief. It was everything in you not to laugh at the little dog. 

But the little dog ran right in like he owned the place, running and excited to be about. The prayer droned on, repeating the same phrases everyone said every Sunday.

In your reticule was a plain biscuit you saved from Sunday school. Slipping it out, you knelt, waving the treat to the dog. Daring not to speak to alert anyone.

The dog trotted forward and ate it, then you scooped him up into your arms. You held onto him, even though he struggled. If he got out he could run into the wilderness where all sorts of nasty ends were waiting for him. Once Mrs. Forrester’s cow was found stuck in the mud for hours and nearly died! Now the bovine was kept to wearing, for lack of a better word, pajamas all hours of the day to keep warm.

As your family opened their eyes next to you, they gasped. People smelled the urine and heads turned towards you. Surprised to see the little thing in your arm. Heads did turn and Reverend Hutton had to wave everyone’s attention back to the service.

But the scruffy white and brown dog settled and calmed down after a while. If you stroked his front legs and chest gently, he would become calm and sleepy like a charm. 

As soon as it ended, you hurried outside. The dog began barking and wiggling. The widows and spinsters of Cranford you had befriended- Mrs. Forrester, Miss Pole, and your favorite, sweet Miss Matty all gathered around. They chatted about Reverend Hutton. Their chins up and talking as fast as clucking hens. All wondering about the dog’s urine and the shock.

“The altar cloth was made by Miss Matty’s mother! We shall have to find an apothecary or-”

“Napoleon! Where are you- I’m so sorry to interrupt ladies and reverend!”

All of you turned. The women kept silent. You were struck silent.

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought. 

“Master William Buxton!” whispered Miss Pole.

“I think we ought not to call him master now…” Mrs. Forrester replied you noted the flirtatious shift in her tone. “He’s so much…broader than when we saw him last.”

You noted he had broad shoulders indeed, and he was well fit beneath his waistcoat. It made you feel even warmer beneath your sun and your bonnet.

You and the ladies dipped into a curtsy and he a bow.

“I believe that is my dog, he escaped the house an hour ago and we’ve been searching for him ever since!” he explained.

You walked forward.

“Oh, thank you, Miss?” he asked.

You gave him your name, though your voice felt half of itself. “I…I only wanted him to be safe and not get hurt if he ran out.”

“That is much kind of you, miss! Could I have him?”

Walking over, you handed the dog to him. As the weight shifted, you felt his arms and hands brush against yours and as silly as it was, it nearly knocked your breath away. Young men here were few and far between to where one considered Cranford a city of Amazons. But here he could be something of a Hercules in the flesh.

“Oh, I am sorry! He is a bad dog!” he apologized again.

“Here you go” you offered.

“William Buxton!” Miss Matty gasped as she went forward and shook his hands. He grinned at her, greeting his old friend.

“We are so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing, but we are glad you could be here!” she continued. 

“I am only here to open up the house, and attend to this bad dog,” he scolded, holding him up. Napoleon only smiled and panted in response.

“Well, we are glad you are here,” you replied.

After curtsies and bows, he scooped the dog up in his arms and continued back home. But you couldn’t help but stare at him, his curls like a halo around him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Cranford, though a small town, was filled with all sorts of likable people. If you were feeling lonely, you had to go about and soon would find a friend. And there was no better friend in town than Miss Matty. 

She was the unmarried daughter of the previous rector and lived a life of genteel poverty- acting like she was still a lady who did not need work or seek employment… despite not being anything more than middle class. She was lonely too. Her sister, her maid, and the love of her life all died within two years. In light of this, you offered to be her companion. Not accepting a penny for her for payment. You both were lonely souls needing company, even in the guise of her feeling like a true lady again.

You enjoyed sitting and drinking tea with her. The clock ticking as she chuckled that this was always the time one expected visitors. One had to take a walk about twice a day. Both of you enjoyed looking through the windows of the shops to see what new fashions were arriving- that was the most excitement one got around town when it wasn’t Christmas!

“What do you think of this French style?” you asked, pointing to one illustration of a gown.

“Very impractical, but very pretty!” Miss Matty replied.

“It’d be nice to wear it to one of our dances here…if we had them again…” you sighed.

“I’m sure if the time comes,” she replied. “They are quite fun- there is one around Christmas Eve and another around Easter.”

“Oh, you should go too! Do you still remember the dances!”

“All of them,” she said with a smile. 

Her sister would insist on sitting in the parlor for two hours every day from noon to two to receive any visitors. Sometimes you only sat in a chair doing nothing for two hours. 

But lately, you kept staring at the window. Staring at the door. Hoping, praying…that perhaps Mr. Buxton would arrive again.

You couldn’t help but admire him. He would always tip his hat at you and smile when you passed in the street.

Everything in you was bursting when you saw him. Freezing and burning at once. Part of you wanted to run up to him and blab about anything. The other part of you wanted to run, to hide, to faint, to make yourself away when he was near. It was both at once and it was unbearable.

There was one day, as you took your second walk of the day, that a familiar sight ran forth. A high feather- only one lady in town wore such a high feather in her bonnet.

“Miss Matty! Miss Matty!” cried Miss Pole.

Both of you curtsied.

“Why, what is it?” she asked.

Miss Pole held her chin up and began to speak in a soft, but piercing tone.

“I hear Mr. Buxton plans on keeping his son here for two months, but soon he will be sent to London. Just in time for the season.”

“Oh, the season!” you gasped.

Then…the season…that was for all the well to do…but it meant…

“He wants his son to attend every ball and dinner and gathering he can- he hopes to find a nice girl from a good family who came out! And I hear Mr. Buxton is already writing some letters!”

You nearly dropped the packages in your hands. Shaking, you kept quiet.

“Why then, that is something! I only wish William well- it is not what he wants at all. But he isn’t our little Master Buxton anymore, he is a man and should find those,” replied Miss Matty.

“I can just imagine it. Our Master Buxton! Dancing the polka with some lady in silks fluent in French!” Miss Pole added.

You were silent as you returned. Your head spinning. You took off your bonnet and outer coat to go inside, but you hardly heard your footfall. It was as if the world was entrenched in water and you were just barely rambling it.

Again, you sat down from noon for calls. Miss Matty got out her needlework and sat down. But you could not do anything. Not read. Not sew. Not eat, Not drink. Anything. Your heart hammering in your ears.

After a few minutes, it became clear that no one was going to immediately arrive. Miss Matty set her things down, her gentle eyes over your face.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” she asked.

You looked down.

“Nothing, miss,” you replied.

“But look at you- you’re trembling. You seem a little faint even though you’re sitting…is something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s only something silly… I will get over it. I am resolved..” you said.

“I feel you wish to speak it,” she said. She stepped forward. “I may be just one 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I….I don’t…” you had to be careful. This was a small town and gossip got around like fire to dry wood. You fidgeted and rubbed your own hands to try to remain calm, looking down at your plaid skirt as you began.

“I only feel like…there are good men out there. And I..should like to someday…someday find a way to love, to be courted, to…to know what that is like…I only hope it should happen someday…”

Perhaps that was rude. Miss Matty wasn’t married. But she only smiled and continued with a soft, compassionate tone.

“That is normal…I remember back in my day how my heart would race when there were gentlemen callers. But there isn’t a rush…and besides, many a woman has been trapped in an unhappy marriage from rushing. And I will tell you…there are worse things in life than being a spinster!”

“Yes, indeed, I agree!” you replied. For it was truly the spinsters and widows who were the ones in charge of the town.

Though, you found yourself looking out the window. Your heart leaped at the sight of a familiar bowler hat and a mop of blonde curls. William Buxton passed by in his coat and gloves. He looked about the town. 

You felt a small gasp in your throat. Behind you, there was the creaking of the floor. The timing was just too perfect.

But he only smiled and tipped his hat and you bowed down in a curtsy in turn. Oh, his smile could make rosebuds bloom! 

Then his head turned towards his path and he continued.

You felt a soft, cold hand touch your shoulder and you flinched.

“Why, what was that!”

You felt yourself tear up. “Miss Matty! It’s nothing! It truly is not!”

“Why, my dear-I see the way you’ve been acting. And now this confirms my suspicions. Do you…love William?” she asked.

Words stammered out of you and a clamminess shook your hands, you could barely form a sentence.

“I…I…let me put the kettle on for some fresh tea!” you insisted.

You turned to leave. Putting the tea kettle onto the stovetop. You merely sat, watching and waiting until steam came out of the spout. But tears were going down your face. Miss Matty followed behind.

“Do you…have feelings for him, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked again.

Looking up, you felt more tears fall down your cheeks, growing hot and tight. Then you folded your hands, reaching one to touch the counter for support. Then putting one to your face you began to cry.

Miss Matty hurried up, giving you one of her handkerchiefs. She embraced you like a daughter and let you sob.

“It’s the talk with Miss Pole today that worried you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes…yes it was…but Miss Matty…please! I need help! I don’t know who will introduce us or where to see him!”

“Don’t worry…it’s time we took another call onto the Buxtons…” she said.

The next day, your heart raced as you entered that fine house. As you got inside, servants took your bonnets and cloaks.

“Napoleon! Napoleon, come here!” cried a familiar voice.

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

“Miss Matty! Miss…Miss Y/L/N! We weren’t expecting visitors!” he gasped.

“Well, we only hoped to surprise you! Miss Y/L/N is my companion and it seems fit we should see each other!” she said.

All of you bowed and curtsied. You tried to keep your eyes as much as you could on his face and not his chest.

“Why then- let me get dressed before Father scolds me. Then I’ll be back!” he said.

He bounded back up. And then you let yourself see more of him. You silently sent a thousand thank yous to Miss Matty.

Sitting down, you had tea and biscuits. And the promises of more meals. There was much talk of the new train station and the mobility it was going to provide for everyone. Of the great spring party that the great Lady of the town threw. Everyone got to see her manor house and be attended to by servants. There would be games and rowboats and every guest was going to be given ice cream- a rare treat. William was excited about that especially.

You paid calls almost every few days, even for at least fifteen minutes. And Miss Matty advised you to dress well. Not that you would ever dress poorly if you knew William would be around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Walking down the street the next week, you saw that familiar high feather in her bonnet scurrying down. No doubt it was Miss Pole, hopping about and running like a rabbit. Only she was heading toward you. It was later, Miss Pole scurried down the street.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N! There is such excitement! There is a Miss Ermina here and she is showing us how to order all the French styles! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Well, I-”

You didn’t have time to answer. Miss Pole grabbed your arm.

“Oh, you must hurry! I insist you do!” 

She practically dragged you to her house. There in the kitchen sat a young woman with ivory pale skin and beautiful dark brown hair done up in curls. Her smart jacket and skirts were of fine material, but her eyes warmed as they looked up at you. She introduced herself with a smile as Ermina. Getting out a paper, she helped you and Miss Pole and Mrs. Forester all translate an order down onto paper. You looked through catalogs and showed what you could get and what to not get. Even if you weren’t spending money now, it was good to know!

Though Ermina’s eyes sparkled at you. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ran into each other, are you just moved in town?” you asked.

“I was just finishing school. And yes- with my father and brother here! Well, they aren’t family by blood but they are in my heart!”

“She is Mr. Buxton’s ward, you know!” Miss Pole interjected.

“A ward!” you cried.

She nodded. You felt the blood drain out of you. “Why, the Buxtons are neighbors and friends of ours, I am acquainted with them.”

“Miss Ermina was finishing her education in Brussels. She is also an accomplished piano player!” Mrs. Forester boasted.

Miss Pole leaned in, her eyes having a twinkle in them.

“But Miss Matty was telling us that it is important for ladies to be more varied in their education .”

“I agree!” Ermina said.

“Why, as do I!” you cut in.

Miss Pole continued, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“And as for our Miss Y’LN,- could you show her a little piano, perhaps? Help her in her accomplishments!”

You shook your head. Why, were they just stealthily insulting your piano skills? What was happening? Ermina only kept her sweet smile. 

“I fear I cannot afford lessons,” you said.

“Oh, not at all! I can show you a few simple cords and phrases! Come by, please!” Ermina replied.

Sure enough, you were having lessons at their house. Ermina herself became a dear friend to talk to. She was kind and not arrogant about her station. You found you both agreed on all sorts of matter regarding women, what they should have in their lives, and ways that things should be better, and different. She of course would tell you tips she noticed about fashion and the piano pieces she found moved her to tears. 

Her presence was enough. You felt guilty, having an agenda. But at least if you lost a potential lover, you had gained a friend.

If it meant more of a chance for William to be in your circle, you agreed. You could have sworn, there was something a little different in how he smiled at you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Then it came to the garden party with Lady Ludlow’s. It seemed all of the town was about there enjoying themselves as much as they could allow. Her whole yard could have made up half of the town! Her mansion towering above you like a giant about to squash you all. But the locals only chatted and laughed like normal. Some of them, Miss Pole, Mrs. Forrester, and one other were gathering to sit on chairs and rest their “weary” feet. Miss Matty was making her rounds of greetings, leaving you alone.

 Sure enough, there was the promised ice cream. William, to your astonishment, brought you a cup of the dessert.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied. You took the cup from his large, white hand.

“Here you go, what do you think?” he asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, the women emerged from their chairs. They hurried about like a pack of ducks looking for crumbs in the grass.

It was cold, creamy and sweet. Though it was melting in the sun and you were tempted to eat it all at once.

“I…I never had something so delightful!” you cried.

However as you walked about, you realized there were rowboats but they were far limited. One had the Reverend’s daughter, Sophy, and her new husband smiling at each other as if no one else existed. They were already far off.  Mrs. Forrester and Miss Pole claimed one another and fought as they kept rowing, chatting about this and that to echo off to everyone. \\

And there was only a third left. Miss Matty appeared, her own ice cream cup in hand.

“Why- it’s a bright day. And there is nothing as wonderful as a rowboat! Why don’t you two enjoy it- William, do be a gentleman and row for her!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” you shook your head. 

“Come on, it will be fun!” cried William.

He opened his hands and you accepted. You followed him. Stepping into the rowboat, you realize how close you are. 

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

 You tried not to notice the build of his thighs, his sleeves rolled up, and his smile and cheeks glowing with the exercise. The boat moved and he grinned at you. Handsome as always, if not more.

“You’re not worried you’ll get splashed! Or fall into the water and have to swim!”

“Oh, not at all!”

You smiled at him and he at you.

“I still recall that day you caught Napoleon still. I should call you My Little Catcher.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all a bit!”

“What’s been occupying your mind?” you asked him quietly.

“The…the…the trains,” he answered.

“Trains?”

“Yes, we are about to open our railway station. I was thinking, all of my life, I never had to work hard. To earn anything. I sat by and others did it. And I was content, but I’m no better than my own dog,” he replied.

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him.

“I would…like to try to make something of myself. Isn’t that silly for a gentleman?”

“Not at all, it’s noble. And one shouldn’t be ashamed of work.”

“I should go to the captain, and ask him for a position as we’re developing it. Then…I should think of myself as lucky, as earning something, and not letting this guilt consume me.”

“You have done nothing wrong. And there is nothing wrong with purpose. It will be a change, it will be hard…but nothing worth having is easy…” you said.

He smiled at you.

“You’re right, my little catcher,” he replied.

You grinned, then looked down for modesty's sake, as well as for your racing heart. Hope glimmering within you.

It seemed too soon when he turned around and asked if it was time to row home. You agreed.

Though he held out your hand, allowing you off. His bare hand bracing your skin- the warmth, the softness. How large they were yet so protective. Something forbidden inside you was tingling as his bare skin brushed your bare skin.

You had to let go, you were glad to let go and be on the grass. It lasted so shortly, yet you felt the world spin. You wanted him, and it both scared and thrilled you.

Soon enough, another woman hurried by. The honorable Mrs. Jamieson approached you two, with her fine dress and holding her Bischon Freise dog who was also donned up in a little blue waistcoat for today. Stifling a laugh, you greeted her. William bowed his head in goodbye and left.

“Why, I must tell you. The assembly hall will be open for spring. And there shall be a dance, will you go? We are all insisting it happens!” She announced.

Blinking fast, you caught your breath.

“Oh…that is fantastic!”

“It will need work…it’s a rather patched up dreary old place…” she clucked. The dog in her arms barked as if he agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Though, then there was a dance. Just in time for Easter, as promised. You arrived in your new dress, bought with Ermina’s advice in your head. You took a deep breath- Miss Matty being your chaperone. 

“I must tell you we spent weeks all organizing and helping it. I haven’t danced one step and we haven’t danced one step!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, it’s all paid off! It’s lovely!”

Occupying them, and trading dance cards. But Miss Matty immediately insisted William have the first with you. And he agreed.

Your heart raced. It was a more intimate dance, almost like an embrace. He looked right in your eyes. And you had to look at his. It felt warm. You felt yourself tremble a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his breath and his eyes, bluer than the sea, the sky on you. How could you dance with anyone else after this? How could you come down to earth?

The chords of the violins finished the phrase- and the song was done. You were still looking at him and he at you.

Glancing down, he saw that his arms were still around you in the position. Hesitantly, he let go and you both bowed, your hand still in his.

But his hand remained there, And his eyes were still on you.  Leaning down, he gave it a kiss that nearly made you gasp. 

“May I have you for the next waltz then, Y/N?” he asked.

Part of you froze and you saw he did too.

He didn’t call you Miss. Not even “Little Catcher.” He called you by your first name.

Handing your card, you smiled at him.

“You may,” you answered.

You turned around to see the ladies of Cranford- Pole, Matty, Forrester, Mrs. Jamieson, and the others, smiling and nodding their heads.

This could not be coincidental. But you could never complain. 

 There would be time to thank them, but for now in a Cranford Ballroom where everyone was easily overheard, you gave them a smile in thanks.

It was next spring there was another happy event.

In the shadow of a church, you looked at William right before the Front door and he at you. He was in as nice a waistcoat as he could now afford for today as an apprentice for a railway. He lowered his hat to look at you and hold his hands in yours. Your own gown was now of white muslin with tiny pink flowers decorated on the blouse, the skirts so light and airy you felt they were made of angel wings. You had worn a bonnet, but one with a long lace veil.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

From the brightness of his eyes, from his presence- you both had the strength to face anything. 

 is lifting your veil outside the church doors of your bonnet and smiling. He squeezed your hand, and as you walked out, the bells rang over you.

Everyone tossed petals and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering and clapping in celebration, in your shared happiness. Your heart full, you handed your bouquet of roses to Miss Matty and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled at you and then handed you to William. He wrapped an arm around you and all began to gather. There would be a celebration with cake, a little ice cream, dances, games, and joy until it was time for the short honeymoon his job allowed him, and then a return to the beautiful little town of Cranford and the new phase of your life together as a man and wife. 

[muspeccoll]

ARRR! Talk Like Pirate Day is September 19!

Bringing Her Yards Aportland, Tackles to the Gooseneck of the Tiller, Sheer Off, Running His Guns, Setting Fire to the Powder, Raising Their Metal, Bringing Her on the Careen.

These are terms most of us do not hear very often, or are unfamiliar with, but to ship’s captains and crew during the Age of Sail, all of these were well understood.

Acts of piracy on the high seas had been common from the time people first took to the sea, but for most of us today, the word Pirate conjures up images of 18th-century buccaneers made popular in art, books, and movies. Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, Captain William Kidd, Stede Bonnet, Anne Bonny, “Calico Jack” Rackham, Bartholomew “Black Bart” Roberts, and Samuel “Black Sam” Bellamy are just a few of the men and women who “Went on the Account,” that is, turned to piracy.

This book, The Lives and Bloody Exploits of the Most Noted Pirates, Their Trials and Executions, published by Ezra Strong in 1839, describes the lives and careers of many of these pirate captains in colorful detail.

Perhaps the following speech, included in this book, (pages 129 and 130) and attributed to pirate Captain “Black Sam” Bellamy, gives us an insight into the reason why so many seafaring men, during the Age of Sail, chose to became pirates. Captain Bellamy, commanding the Wydah Galley, captured and plundered a sloop commanded by a Captain Beer while cruising off Rhode Island in late February of 1717. Captain Bellamy to Captain Beer:

I am sorry they [Bellamy’s crew] won’t let you have your sloop again, for I scorn to do any one a mischief when it is not for my advantage; - the sloop, we must sink her, and she might be of use to you. Though you are a sneaking puppy, and so are all those who will submit to be governed by laws which rich men have made for their own security; for the cowardly whelps have not the courage otherwise to defend what they get by knavery; but-ye altogether:-them for a pack of crafty rascals, and you, who serve them, for a parcel of hen-hearted numskulls. They vilify us, the scoundrels do, when there is only this difference, they rob the poor under the cover of law, forsooth, and we plunder the rich under the protection of our own courage. Had you not better make one of us, than sneak after these villains of employment?

Captain Beer rejected throwing in with the pirates.

[blazinghotfoggynights]

I have free time so I will play.

Let's make predictions/list hopes for 7x10. Everyone else is doing it and giving in to peer pressure once in a while is fun!

1- Buck is on a date at his house with Tommy. Yes, Buck is giving him heart eyes. Yes, Buck is smitten. That doesn't mean anything to those who remember the whole show. Did you all forget Abby? He was head over heels for her and she wasn't that into him. I said after they got together that I was not against BuckTommy at all, BUT Tommy was giving me a lot of Abby similarities. Now, the similarities, imho, are even stronger.

Buck is always full heart eyes, full attention on Tommy while Tommy is holding back, aloof, and even kind of smartassed to Buck. I can think of at least three times his tone, phrasing, or actions were not cool at all.

Anyway.

2- Eddie and Christopher have a major relationship breakdown. I'm sorry, but seeing his dead mother all over his father after spending the day with his father's girlfriend was probably just a little traumatic.

Christopher is also a very intelligent kid. He had to know if Eddie was roleplaying with Kim, sorry her dressing up as Shannon is not sweet, it's completely unhinged and psycho, he was not thinking clearly. If Eddie were in his right mind, he would never have shared that much information with a relative stranger and he damn sure wouldn't have let her in the house when she turned up pretending to be his dead wife.

I think Christopher calls a trusted family member for help and they call Helena and Ramon. I can't see Christopher willingly calling two people he knows will just escalate the situation, hurt his dad, and hurt him, as well. If I had to guess, he reaches out to Abuela or to Pepa who then calls her mother for advice, leading to Ramon and Helena finding out, seeing a chance to finally snatch their grandson, and jumping on a plane to LA.

3. Ramon and Helena take Christopher. They probably threaten legal action and to ruin Eddie if he tries to stop them. Eddie, hurt and angry, probably stands up ready to fight for his son, but Buck, forever having his back, tells him to stand down and play it cool. This could be next season, but I think after Ramon and Helena actually leave with Christopher, Buck reminds Eddie he has legal paperwork stipulating who should take Christopher if Eddie is unable to care for his son. Buck is there as Eddie hits rock bottom, supporting him and vowing, "We will get Christopher back."

4. I think Bobby survives, but it won't be shown until season 8. Bobby will probably flatline and his arc for the season will end there.

5. Hen gets something she needs to help keep Mara OR Hen's suitability to be acting captain will be questioned with the terrible mother/delusional councilwoman leading the charge. Maybe both could happen.

5. Maybe Maddie and Buck have a touching scene where Buck tells Maddie Bobby was the father he never had and he can't lose him. It would be cool if Chimney overhears and when Buck is not around, he fills Maddie in on the early days of Buck and the 118 and how Bobby never gave up on him and helped shape the man he is today. (I would be going through so many tissues.)

6. I think Tommy either arrives with Buck or comes in later to check on Buck. He is there for support. I think something puts a bee in Tommy's bonnet. Maybe he sees Buck and Eddie comfort each other when Tommy is right there. Maybe Eddie gets a frantic call about his home situation and Buck, again, throws everything to the side to be there for Eddie. I don't know, but I think something happens that finally pushes Tommy to reveal something that leaves his relationship with Buck totally messed up. (OMG! If it is somehow worked into canon that Tommy was into Eddie but went after Buck when Eddie made it clear he wasn't interested while Buck made it clear he was, I will LOSE it! I am all about the mess and scandal! Extra helpings of awesomesauce if Tim Minear really takes it there and we find out Tommy and Edmundo Noches, sorry after seeing that post it is going to stick with me for a while, had at least one encounter during their many hangouts, Eddie said it couldn't happen again, and they stopped hanging out. That would be season 7 FTW!)

(Also, please don't flame me because Eddie would never cheat. After the last two episodes, even Tim Minear doesn't know what Eddie Diaz is capable of. Being with a man, then seeing Buck happy with a man could have spurred Eddie into this spiral. 🤷‍♀️)

So, yeah, this is just me hoping for angst, love, tears, Emmy worthy performances, and messiness. I just want to be entertained.

***As in a prior post, I am asking that nothing related to Buck/Tommy be tagged if you reblog. ***

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Sam Winchester Headcanons

Part 1/?

Always kisses the top of your head. Mainly because he’s so tall and it’s the part of you he can kiss the easiest, but he does it all the time for every form of greeting

He’s never without a book. He always has at least three different books in his bag that he can grab out if he’s bored on a car trip or if he’s at the bunker by himself and there’s no case to research for

He gets up at the ass crack of dawn every morning to go for a run. He tried to get you to go with him exactly once, because when you grabbed the switch blade from under your pillow and threatened to chop off all of his hair, he immediately stopped bugging you about it and now he just lets you sleep

He can type unnaturally fast, but only if he borderline abuses every key. No joke, you can be in the kitchen and hear him “CLACK CLACK CLACK”ing away on his laptop in the library. It drives you and Dean bonkers, but if he doesn’t do it, he literally has to hunt and peck like an 80-year-old man and it takes him 11 and a half years to type a paragraph that's on the SHORTER SIDE

All of his flannels are organized by color, starting with red shades on the left and ending with the neutrals on the right (black, brown, white, grey, tan, that shit). He’s tried organizing Dean’s flannels that way, but Dean always puts it right back to his “most worn to least worn” system

He likes PDA, but in the gentler sense. Like, he’ll put a hand on your back as he walks past and says a quick “hi”, he’ll rest his chin on the top of your head or on your shoulder while you’re cooking just to be near you, and he’ll grab your hand or put a hand on your knee or thigh while you’re both researching just because he can

He says “I like you” way more than “I love you”, because he knows you know he loves you, but he just wants to reaffirm how much he likes you. Say you make lunch and you bring him some while he’s busy researching. He’ll smile, kiss your cheek, and say, “I like you so much, Babe. Thank you”. You call him a dweeb, but you still say you like him too and go back to what you were doing

When he’s sick, he refuses to let you take care of him because he doesn’t want you to get sick too. The second he feels the teensiest bit under the weather, he kicks you out of your shared room and barricades himself inside so he can’t get anyone else sick. He takes care of himself pretty well, but eventually you pick the lock and mother hen him into submission

You somehow get him addicted to home design shows by making him watch them with you all the time, and now he’ll watch them completely of his own volition. Once you came home from the store to find him watching an episode of House Hunters, and you heard him say, “The hell do you mean you don’t think House #3 is for you, Tiffany?! It checks every godforsaken box you have, and it SOMEHOW is within your shoestring of a budget! Go for it!!!”. Dean still hasn’t let him live it down

He sings to himself a lot, but mostly very specific bits of songs that get stuck in his head and they’re the only parts he can remember off the top of his head. One time he was cooking and you distinctly heard him mumbling the lyrics to “America” from West Side Story, but it was just the first chorus over and over again because he couldn’t remember the rest of the words

When he’s sleeping by himself, he lays on his back and essentially takes up the whole bed because he also starfishes (while snoring like a hibernating bear, but I digress). When he’s sleeping with you, he’s the big spoon, and he holds you as close to his chest as he possibly can by your waist while you essentially melt into him

He either treats his hair like it's the only thing he has going for him or like it's just there and he's overall neutral about it. Like, one week he'll do an eight step haircare routine and sleep in a satin bonnet to keep it from getting frizzy and the works every single night, then the next he acts like he doesn't even know what a hairbrush is

After becoming friends with Eileen (and after his accidental faux-pas), you and him make it your mission to become at least 75% fluent in sign language, and Dean begrudgingly learns a few key phrases so he can get by in simple conversation because whether or not he'll admit it out loud (since he's mr. "no chick flick moments"), he likes Eileen and loves seeing her smile just as much as you guys do

He's the king of New Year's Resolutions. He makes a list of a bunch of really small changes, like "I'll work together with Dean and Y/N and make a chore chart" or "I'll go out and get eco-friendly lightbulbs for the bunker and turn the unused lights off more often", and he sticks with them the whole year. You're always surprised that he can always come up with at least 6 things to change every year

He loves dogs. He knows about 80% of all the dog breeds out there and can identify them mostly on the first try just by glancing at them. It pisses you and Dean off to no end

He’s terrible at strategy games like Connect 4 and Battleship, and nobody has any idea why. He just sucks ass at strategy games. He’s annoyingly good at Operation though, because he has the steadiest hands on earth

His favorite way to kiss you is to pull you closer by your belt loops, then slide one hand up to your neck and one to your waist (and by that I mean partially on your waist but mostly cupping your ass). Mostly because you always melt into him when he does it and it spikes his ego a little bit

He always remembers the littlest details about you. Like you’ll mention offhandedly once that you prefer paperback books to hardcover ones, and then after that every book he gets you for Christmas and your birthday is paperback. Or you’ll casually say in a conversation that platypuses are your favorite animal, and then one day a platypus plushie randomly appears on your bed. And it makes you love him just the teensiest bit more every time he does something like that for you

[pennaraptor]

yesterday was also Bonnet's 13th birthday! that's right!!!! she may be ancient but she is still handsome - however, she didn't feel like posing today right after moving. let's all admire her floof neck and floppy comb (and tiny wife)

[911ficrecs]

Secrets and Sacrifices by StarlingBite - 6,807 words, mature

Summary: His back is turned; he doesn’t see what’s happening…not until he hears Hen scream Chimney’s name and the high-pitched screech of tires skidding on tarmac.

Eddie looks round just as Buck’s body slams into the bonnet of a car with a sickening thud.

---

An incident on a routine call has Eddie making some decisions about his and Buck's relationship. The same incident triggers a much-needed conversation between Buck and Chimney.

[whumpsick]

Whumpuary Day 3-4

Prompt for January 3-4 is "Get away from me" / Collapse / Choking. I played a little fast and loose with the definition of choking, but no ragrets.

Steddyhands Whumpuary continues! All of this is set in the handwavey co-captains period of OFMD season 1, unless I decide otherwise, in which case I'll say something.

Izzy had been denying he was sick for close to a week. His cough was bad enough that no one really understood why he was still denying it. By day six he could barely get a full sentence out without dissolving into a hacking mess. Roach had coincidentally started keeping a pot of warm honey lemon tea on the stove around the clock on day two, and the sole concession Izzy made to his condition was keeping a mug of it in his hand at all times. 

He was inspecting rigging, clinging to his mug of tea, when he tried to say something to Pete and broke off in another coughing fit. This one seemed especially bad, but when Pete attempted to thump him on the back he snapped “Get away from me!” and stepped to the middle of the deck in convulsions. Stede came up from below just in time to see a final fit shake the first mate’s small frame before he fell to his knees and collapsed onto the deck. 

Stede shrieked and rushed to Izzy’s side. “Someone get Ed!” he shouted to no one in particular. He rolled Izzy gently onto his back.

“Fuck off Bonnet.” There was some relief to hearing that. If Izzy was still cussing him out, he wasn’t that poorly off. But he did need to stop working, to be somewhere warm, to be — to be eating soup, or whatever. 

“Oh for the love of –” and there was Ed, thank goodness. “Iz, I fucking told you to take it easy and look what you’ve done now.”

“I’ll be fine, just give me a fucking –”

“Absolutely fucking not.” Never had Stede heard Edward sound like such a mother hen. Not that his usual idea of a mother hen said ‘fuck’ quite so much. “Stede, come on, take his legs.” 

Edward hauled Izzy up from behind under his arms and Stede rushed to take hold of his ankles. Together they rushed Izzy into their cabin, ignoring his feeble protests. Edward steered them to the bed and Stede suppressed a protest at the thought of Izzy’s boots on the bed, even for a moment. Instead he quickly removed them, and helped Ed strip their first mate down to his smalls. 

“Edward, I’m fine, this is completely unnecessary,” Izzy was still protesting, but his eyes were closed and he offered no resistance to their undressing. Edward placed a palm over his forehead and Stede watched Izzy’s face slacken with relief at the touch even as Edward frowned. 

“You’re burning up, Iz,” he murmured. “Could you get some cold water and rags, love?” 

“Of course,” Stede felt a little relieved just to be given a task. When he returned, Edward had removed his own jacket and was sitting with Izzy’s head in his lap. Edward accepted a cool towel from Sted with murmured thanks and carefully applied it to his first mate’s forehead.

“Scared the fucking shit out of us, love,” Edward told Izzy, whose eyes were closed. “Too fucking old to push yourself like this anymore.” 

To Stede’s surprise, Izzy turned onto his side and threw an arm over Ed’s thigh. He muttered curses into his pant leg, quieting when Ed stroked his hair. As worried as Stede was, his heart warmed at the sight. 

***

Izzy’s whole body ached. It felt like every time he dropped off to sleep, he started coughing again. Someone helped him drink some hot, sweet tea, which seemed to soothe his throat. He finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

***

He rose gently back to consciousness, at first aware of sunlight, just on the other side of his eyelids. Then the body aches, concentrated at every joint and radiating out to the rest of his body. Then the quiet voices somewhere nearby. He stirred in an attempt to alleviate the pain and noticed a change in the cadence of the voices. 

“How’s our Israel this morning?” Stede asked, approaching the bed. The word our lodged in Izzy’s chest and warmed it, despite the twist it also caused in his stomach. He pulled the blankets up higher and groaned.

“Is that a good noise or a bad noise?” Stede asked. Izzy was not planning to reply, but the question was directed at Edward anyway.

“Sounds like a ‘still feeling shitty’ noise.” Edward’s palm found his forehead again and he sighed at the coolness of his hand. “Still feverish, too. Looks like you’re on bedrest today, Iz.” 

Izzy frowned and made an unhappy noise, then stifled a cough. 

“If you can’t form words, Israel, I’m afraid Edward is right. Edward and I can supervise the crew just fine until you’re better.”

Izzy made another unhappy noise, but he turned back over and snuggled deeper into the blankets anyway. He felt bad enough that he couldn’t make himself care very much about whether they ran the ship aground or did something else stupid today. The air outside the blankets felt unreasonably cold, and his joints still ached something fierce. 

He felt a body sit down next to him on the bed and rub his back in small circles through the blankets. “I’ll see Roach about getting some more tea,” Stede said.

[eviswriting]

Fandom: Harry Potter (pre-Golden Trio Era) Ship/Character(s): Genfic, Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley Tags & Such (Tropes, etc): Fluff, character study/development, short oneshot? Main Idea: They don't get chocolate frogs often, but when they do, Ron and Ginny Weasley, the youngest, rush to check what card they have. Vibe: fluffy, excited, childlike Extra Notes: Really just a cute, short fic between ginny and ron and their relationship pre-sorcerer's stone!

thank you :)

word count: 1.4k Characters: Ronald "Ron" Weasley and Ginerva "Ginny" Weasley Fandom: Harry Potter

notes: I called this "Chocolate Frogs", I hope that's okay! I love this idea! Not sure if it's clear, but it happens when Ron is 10 and Ginny is 9. Thank you for being the first person to request <3 it should be up on A03 either today or tomorrow!

THEY DON’T GET CHOCOLATE FROGS MUCH ANYMORE.

They never did, to begin with, surviving on their dad’s meagre salary, but lately, they’ve been getting them less and less. This doesn’t mean Ron doesn’t like them — love them, in fact. Their mum’s call always, “Ron! Ginerva! I have a surprise for you!” always gets the kids running. It’s tradition, at this point — Ginny’s insistence that her name is ‘Ginny’, never ‘Ginerva,’ Ron’s detective smell of each box, and their “three, two, one, card!” upon opening the frogs’ boxes. 

It’s been so long — a year, in fact. Ginny, barely eight, still cannot really fathom the lack of money they have. Ron sort-of understands. And this morning feels just like any other. The birds chirp as he wakes up, pleasant calls, and just like every other morning, Ron remembers his great-great-aunt Muriel’s tale of the birds calling for their lording phoenix. They wish, he thinks bitterly as he, not wanting to be caught in the red flame of his mum’s ire, changes out of his pyjamas and into ratty, passed-down clothing. The only thing that marks it as his is the faded strip of paper with just the bare markings of the word ‘RON’ in nearly-whitened ink. It was rich in colour, black, once. 

But like everything he owns, it’s not in prime condition. He’s just in the process of pulling on a pair of maroon socks (yes, he does hate the colour maroon, and yes, he will be wearing the socks) when his mum’s voice filters through the door. “It’s time for breakfast, dears!” has never sounded as frightening as it has in the past two years. As money grew tighter and tighter (Ginny kept growing and they didn’t have much clothes to fit her), breakfast meant chores afterwards, so their mother could focus on the bit of ‘freelancing’ she did — an odd sewing project here, a knitted sweater-and-bonnet set for a next-door neighbour. 

Langly legs leading him down the stairs, he joins the mob of red that heads to the kitchen. The Burrow, their home, is held up only by magic. How else would the additional rooms protruding from the original structure stay up? 

“Hi,” he says to his brothers, George and Fred, though they wink at him before returning to their hushed murmurings. Twins and devious, Fred and George would be heading for their second year at Hogwarts (the brilliant wizarding school in Scotland) on September 1st. 

Sometimes, Ron feels excluded from his family. His eldest siblings, Bill and Charlie, have each other, Percy’s the most studious out of all of them and is always contemptuous about remaining with his books, and Fred and George have each other. So Ron sticks by himself or Ginny, his younger sister. It’s a bit embarrassing for his best friend to be his younger sister, but he does it. 

“Hey, buddy!” As Ron perches precariously on one of the stools, Charlie — who was apparently already downstairs — reaches over to mess his hair. Ron smiles cheerfully, loading oatmeal, sugar, and cream into his bowl. 

After breakfast, they receive chore lists. Ron sighs in relief when he realises he just has to clean out the chicken coops, remove the hens’ eggs, and make sure no gnomes are hiding in the area. It seems that Ginny isn’t as lucky, as she gives a very dramatic sigh and pouts at Mum. Luckily, Mum isn’t facing her, so she isn’t swayed by her only daughter’s child emotions. 

With a kiss on each child’s cheek, Molly Weasley watches her kids leave the room to complete their chores. Smiling softly, she starts preparing a casserole she needs to make for the Lovegoods. 

Ron rushes out to the yard and towards the coops quickly, so none of his siblings can rope him into helping with their chores. He completes his tasks quickly yet efficiently; when he comes back to the Burrow to give his mum the filled egg basket, Ginny is huffing about only being on her second task — the second out of five. Sucks for her, he thinks, grabbing one of their mum’s concoctions that is supposed to help in warding off gnomes. 

He completes that task quickly, and after he carefully replaces the foul-smelling potion, he contemplates his options for a second. He can either go back to Mum and get a new list or go upstairs to his room. Instincts win out and he carefully creeps up the stairs. He’s about to pump his hands and whisper ‘yes!’ when his toes push into a hard stair. The creaking stair, and the bane of Fred and George. Shoot. The squeak is loud, and Ron pauses, not breathing. What fib can he come up with if Mum comes to check? 

Thankfully, his mum doesn’t move from the kitchen and Ron, a bit more careful, tip-toes to his room, shutting the door softly behind him. “Success!” he laughs as he falls onto his mattress, letting it wrap him. Ron stays there for a while, staring at the ceiling until his eyelids flutter close once, twice, thrice, before settling into a light sleep. 

Three hours later, he’s awoken by a call of, “Ron! Ginny!” He doesn’t move, and Mum calls the iconic “Ron! Ginny! I have a surprise for you!” Ron is up in an instant. It doesn’t matter that the small flame in his heart is re-awoken with hope, the smallest part that hopes reverently that it’s a chocolate frog. 

He’s already downstairs, standing at the table, white knuckles clutching the back of a chair, when Ginny finally makes it down. The nine-year-old has an adorable pout on her face, and Molly softens at the sight of it. 

Molly beams at her children. She loves them, through anything. Anything. Even though they don’t have much money, she makes due with what she can. She tries to give them all they’d ever want. And she knows it's not ideal, but she works with what she has. Clearing her throat, misty-eyed, she says, “I have a surprise for you.” Ron’s grip on the chair grows tighter, and Molly smiles even wider. She knows that her youngest son is probably aware, and trying to repress his hopes — and it hurts her so much, like a million thorns sticking themselves into her heart, that he can’t wish for some simple chocolate. She’s tried before to recreate the iconic frogs, but they never turn out as well as the original. 

“What is it?” Ginny asks with the pretence of boredom, but Molly sees her only daughter’s confusion and faint hope. It hurts. 

“Well…” Molly trails off, removing her hands from behind her back. Two chocolate frog boxes are held tightly in her hands. It’s why she baked the casserole and knitted Pandora Lovegood and her daughter Luna matching cardigans for the grand sum of fifteen galleons. (Not that the chocolate frogs cost so much — only a galleon together; the rest of the money, fourteen galleons, would go to Ron and Ginny’s Hogwarts funds.) 

Ron’s face lights up with pure, child joy that makes it all worth it. So does Ginny’s, though she tries to hide it. “Thank you!” they both squeal (though they’d both deny that), and each grab one. Together, with a, “Three, two, one, open!” from Ron, they tear through the packaging, carefully putting the box to the side, and pulling out the card. 

“Cool!” yells Ginny, brandishing her new, first-ever Jocunda Sykes card. 

Ron, grinning, says, “I got bloody Devlin Whitehorn! First one!” 

It has been a while since Molly has seen her youngest two so joyful. It always makes all of the extra work worth it — plus, she’d be doing that work anyway, trying to maintain a cosy home. They both repeat extravagant thank you’s, and Molly can’t help but chuckle. Such simple, childish behaviour that would disappear in a few years as they went to Hogwarts and learned more responsibility. 

Ron is first, but then Ginny joins. Soon, all three of them are hugging, holding on to each other tightly. Molly feels like never letting go. She loves her family so, so much; she does, like Arthur, everything she can for them. This? This is family. 

Family means sticking to each other through thick and thin. 

It means never, ever giving up in difficult situations. 

That you should always keep pushing to be a better, healthier version of yourself. 

Family is such a precious thing.

have a great day/night! :)

[millingroundireland]

Dora Mills in 1892: a black dress, ornate hat, and a parasol

With the above, it seems to make me doubt, once again, that Dora had red hair which I talked about previously on this blog. Perhaps Dora had some level of style that wasn't clear otherwise. It connects with my post about Dora and fashion in 1892:

...I’ve posted a photo, cropped and in different formats, of her in possibly July 1892...with her family.  Clearly, she had a bonnet and a dress of some kind...Instead it was, due to the solid color and nature, likely a Tulip Bell Skirt...Dora was not wearing a dress like others of the time as it was not fancy...but seemed more ordinary, as to say...I would say that Dora almost seems like she is in her “Sunday” clothes for church...Coming back to Dora, it seems she had a certain sense of style, in keeping with the time especially if you compare her to every other individual in the picture...Regardless of what dress she is wearing, she is clearly wearing a bonnet of some type

Now, if the bonnet in the above photo is the same as the one in my photo of the four Doras (down below):

Then, that would mean that Dora has a whole different style than we thought previously. She does not have a fancy dress like those shown here or here. It isn't like dresses shown in fashion catalogs in New York in 1896 or other Victorian clothing. I wasn't able to find a photo of the bonnet here or even here. The photo at the beginning is a clearly Victorian hat with a bonnet, but it is not clear which one. Even on a page about vintage hats, this one isn't specifically mentioned at all. The hat does seem like the one noted on this eBay listing. I looked at another site on hats as well, but had no luck.

This post was originally published on WordPress in February 2019.

One site specifically talked about women's hats, directly applying the hat shown above:

Women's hats were increasingly more exuberant during the 1890s. Elaborately decorated bonnets and hats were in fashion, as well as simpler hats for active wear. Bonnets of the 1890s had very substantial brims and became very difficult to distinguish from hats. Narrow, high hats in dark colors with crushed satin and ostrich tips sat atop women's heads in the 1890s. By the middle of the decade, hats were even more substantial. The hats were perched toward the front of the head and were lavishly trimmed with crushed ribbons. These hats, because of the way they were perched and the fluffed material, were often called "settin' hens." The women in the images below sport a variety of lavish "settin' hens".

What about her dress?

I still don't know which dress, but it clearly isn't any of the ones here, here, or here.

After all this, I am pretty convinced she is wearing the same in the photo of Dora and her family in 1892, although with a different hat perhaps:

With this, I set out to the realms of Reddit in a post titled "Can anyone help me determine the clothing style of my great-great-grandmother (I believe circa 1892) who is wearing a dress, has a double bow bonnet, and is holding a cane?" Comments came in [1], saying that:

I am seeing very late 1890 to 1905. The large hat (but not as huge as they got) is the right material and size. The full shoulders are due to the leg o mutton sleeve, but is smaller, so at the beginning or end of the fad. If the pic was clearer, I could give you a closer date. 1892 seems a bit early for the size and style of the hat. Skirt shape is tough to decipher. Are they leg o mutton sleeves or is she wearing a short cape? Do you know what her personality might have been like from relatives? I'm always curious about how they would have been in everyday life. Photos are always so serious looking and the black and white makes it seem even more serious than it would. I don't think she's holding a cane. It looks like a parasol or umbrella.

That is it for now.

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Notes

[1] I said in my comments that: "I wish I had a clearer photograph too! I only said 1892 because there was a photo of her that year with her family in somewhat similar clothes. I can say that she died in 1895, so this photo has to be taken before then. Hmm, a leg o mutton sleeve. I'll have to look into that. Yeah, the skirt shape maybe hard to decipher, I get that, due to the blurriness of the photo" and "Sorry for the horrible quality of the photo, but I received this from my second cousin, one time removed. I thought you would be receptive to this post after the last post on this subreddit. Here are close-ups of her bonnet and dress (with cane and gloves), if that helps." I also said "I don't know about her personality. I know she was part of the Women's Christian Temperance Union and that she was a member of the women's auxillery [sic] of the Sons of Union Veterans of Civil War. Otherwise, information is pretty limited" and "You may be right. I thought it was a cane, but yes, it could be a parasol or umbrella. Thinking about it now, it is probably a parasol or umbrella because I'm not sure she would have a cane anyway!" I also said that "I can't answer for him but from my own observation it seems to be leg o mutton sleeve, as that became trendy again in the 1890s."