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[eyelashcureuk]

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[saintslewis]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: how about a vacation? :D

warnings: outfit descriptions/links, cussing, name brands, a lot of dialogue, maybe typos? idk

saint’s team radio 🪩: sorry for making you guys mad last chapter LMAOOO. made this one a bit longer so hopefully i get forgiven. where’s your dream vacay spot?

amanzoe link!

pls like, reblog and comment! <3

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

renaissance masterlist • general masterlist

-

Nadia felt different.

Of course she looked different in the week she asked for a week’s extension of her leave. Her hair now long and blonde, more tattoos specifically on her hands and a piece on her back. Everything re-pierced to feel more comfort within the pain and much baggier clothes as well.

She was physically glowing. Smelling like vanilla layered with an expensive Arabic perfume, knowing it would turn heads as soon as she walked anywhere. Going for lighter eyelashes, her eyes didn’t feel as heavy as they did as when she cried for hours days before.

Driving in ever-cloudy London felt good. The engine of her McLaren roared as she drove through traffic to make it in time for work, earning stares from people in their cars. She liked it, Nadia liked the attention she was receiving but she knew it would be difficult to not want more.

Lewis’ hoodie was warm and smelled like him no matter how many times it’s been washed and that brought immense comfort to Nadia. A smile spread across her face as she thought back to her husband.

He loved her and she loved him.

He never failed to show his love to her, small touches throughout the day no matter the activity, his gaze was on her most of the time like a lovestruck teenager who had just gotten with his crush. Anything she wanted, Lewis would get to it in a blink of an eye. Nadia got loved on so much that she could still feel his slow kisses all over her body making her thoughts drift away.

She had put her phone on DND except for Lewis, him being the exception for whenever he was out and missed his wife. She knew it wasn’t healthy to push everyone away but she felt the most safe in her little circle. None of them being her actual family members.

Snapping her out of her thoughts, her ringtone rang through the car and she saw that Lewis was calling.

“Morning my love.” He greeted first as soon as the phone was answered.

Smiling at the sound of his voice, she replied. “Morning, pookie. What you up to?”

“Still at the house, might go to my dad’s for a bit. Just wanted to check on you.”

“You’re gonna go this morning?” Nads asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

A beat passed.

“Lewis?” “Yes, my love?”

“Whatever you’re planning, make sure you get home safe.” She spoke and he chuckled at her stern voice, imagining her roll her eyes.

“I promise.”

Lewis dropped the call, putting his phone in his back pocket as he leaned on his car.

Thankfully, Buckinghamshire wasn’t cold but he felt a bit of a breeze as he chewed on his gum. Fixing his cap, he walked to the front door of the home and knocked ever so gently. Hearing footsteps and inaudible voices, the door opened to a very surprised Rea while she was fixing her school tie.

The look in her eye moved from surprise to realisation as she registered who was standing in front of her. “O-oh. Morning Lewis.” The young girl stuttered. With his face stoic, he placed his hands behind his back.

“Where’s your aunt? Just wanna have a little chat.” He spoke.

Before she could speak, Thembi came to the door shouting for Rea to close the door if it was a neighbour. As shocked as her niece was, Thembi’s expression changed to that of smugness. “What a surprise! Can’t believe my son in law is so early!” She smiled widely as she clapped her hands.

“Please don’t call me that.” He returned the smile and watched as hers fell at the tone of his voice. “I came here to honour my wife. What the two of you have done to Nadia was absolutely disgusting,” He started.

Thembi’s eyes changed to what appeared as darker and brought slight chills down his spine. Nadia had described this look as one of a narcissist, a look that scared her as she grew up and explained her reasons for never being at home. Lewis has had his share of people like Thembi in his life so he was not phased as much.

“Call me unfair or any types of names but I don’t want either of you near my wife. I won’t speak for her but she’ll sort you out herself if she chooses to speak with.” Lewis concluded, his voice stern.

Nadia’s mother laughed. She laughed out loud at Lewis’ words. “Do you think we’re scared of you? Just because you’ve got more money and fame, you think you can take my daughter away from me?” The older woman pushed Rea behind her as she came face to face with Lewis.

“She never told you why she can’t have kids? Always out of the house because she couldn’t keep-” “Auntie, no. Don’t.” Rea spoke up but got given a look that shut her up.

“Listen here, Mr rich man. That girl was a harlot and never listened to me. Never showed me her grades and she expected me to love her? Who cares if she got in Oxford or whatever? This will teach her a lesson!” Thembi angrily expressed, using her hands to make gestures.

The fact that Lewis was unmoving was getting on her nerves. Why wasn’t he scared? He should be.

“Go back to her! Tell her she’s getting bigger and she needs to cover up and she needs to cover up. We don’t need her or her money. God, I wish I never had her. Such a pain in the ass.” She continued and at this point, Rea was tearing up behind her.

He raised his eyebrows and stopped himself from saying something damaging. “Gladly.”

With that, Lewis left them standing in their doorway. Thembi snickering as if she got the last laugh between this exchange and Rea who looked distraught, as if she lost everything in that very moment. He swiftly got in his car and took off to actually visit his father, as calm as he could be.

His phone buzzed as he drank his tea. Lewis loved receiving text from Nadia because she could go from being goofy to suddenly being serious, discussing anything and everything.

MESSAGES!

sthandwa sami: pookie!!! my students got me flowers and wrote me so many letters! 🥹🥹

that’s amazing, my love. you deserve them and the world. you’re so strong, my beautiful girl

sthandwa sami: great, now you’ve got me crying all over again. i love you, i’ll see you later 😚

i love you most. got a surprise for you when you get home.

sthandwa sami: 🤨🤨🤨

go back to work, you’ll find out soon 🤣

sthandwa sami: mmmkay. please also get croissants for me, love you bye!!! <3

“What’s got you smiling over there, son?” Anthony spoke up with a knowing smile on his face.

With his own grin gracing his face, Lewis put his phone down. “The one and only. She’s doing a whole lot better than last week.” He said to his father.

“That’s good. You should bring her ‘round more. She’s definitely a character, the whole family can’t stop gushing over her.” A laugh was shared between the two before a hush fell over their conversation.

Taking a sip of his tea, Lewis spoke up. “I did the thing we discussed. I thought you lot were joking about the narcissism.” He leaned his head on his hand.

Anthony let out a scoff. “Good. Didn’t want them to tear her down, that was disgraceful. You wired the money for her….what’s it called?”

“Lobola. It’s her dowry.” Lewis said, his accent prevalent as he tried to pronounce the word.

“Ah, yes. It’s not that we want to take her away from her immediate family but I don’t want them near her. They can’t ruin the plan knowing how far we’ve come.” His dad sighed as he spoke.

All Lewis could do was nod. He just hoped everything will work itself out because he truly loves Nadia.

-

There she was.

Blasting music in the driveway as she carried her new flower bouquets out of her car. A big smile on her face, bigger than what Lewis had seen during the past few weeks.

Eventually switching off the ignition and the music all together, Nadia fixed her purse strap and walked towards the front door of the home with Lewis standing right there. Leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and just admiring her as she came closer.

Making eye contact with him just lit up her whole face even more, eyebrows lifted slightly with her eyes rapidly blinking. She looked so happy. He never wanted her smile to leave her face, he planned to keep it there forever.

“Hi baby!” Nadia elongated the pet name as she stopped right in front of him. “Where’s all this energy from, love?” Lewis chuckled as he asked the question. Leaning forward to give her a peck, she returned a few more before looking into his eyes once again.

“Just a lot of good things happened today, it feels unreal.” She smiled, surely her cheeks were painful by now. “From the flowers from my kids to the email from Pharrell. Oh! And they let me take part time.” Nadia casually said, walking around to enter the house.

With his body moving along with hers as she walked past, he fully digested her words. “What? Love, what do you mean?” He asked, closing the front door behind him.

“Yeah! I managed to have a civilised conversation with the principal and we agreed that I’d take part time. It hurt to make the decision but I think it’ll work out for me.” She spoke. With her shoes off, she waltzed into the kitchen and placed the bouquet she was holding, down. Not even noticing the semi-large box on the kitchen island.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke. “As long as you’re sure and happy, then I am as well.”

“Thank you, pookie bear.” Nadia blew a kiss to him when her eyes finally landed on the box with a pretty pink bow. Giving him a look, Lewis moved next to her, holding her waist ever so gently. “Remember the surprise I told you about earlier on?” She nodded and he unconsciously squeezed her waist.

“Well…i know it’s summer break in about 3 weeks and I wanted you to have fun with some of your friends so I organised a little something.” He responded with a soft smile on his face as hers moved to look back and forth between him and the box.

Unwrapping the bow, she was stunned to see a few pairs of sunglasses, flower-themed claw clips, what looked like a new makeup bag and an envelope tucked at the very side with the words ‘For when the sun shines at Amanzoe’.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s Amanzoe?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled with a smirk on his face.

Leaning towards him, Nadia kissed him passionately, their lips meeting with a soft touch with Lewis’ hands already roaming all over.

“What was that for, baby?” Lewis asked, a little breathless after separating from her.

“Just in case I get super surprised.” She shrugged.

-

PORTO HELI, GREECE

“Holy fucking shit.”

Nadia’s eyes were widened from the moment they were picked up from the airport via the private entrance. She knew that she would be surprised but not as inadequate as this.

That conversation was had three weeks before the friend group landed in Athens for the first time, impressed that there was transportation waiting for them with their luggage carefully packed.

Is this what luxury felt like? Did it always look so good? Nadia even thought to her appearance. Her hair in her usual blonde, a beautiful figure hugging dress from Loewe paired with tan Hermes Ocras. She felt like luxury. She finally felt comfortable in it.

Driving into Amanzoe felt like a whole new world. The calmness and ultimate luxury of the resort was absolutely stunning, the architecture paying homage to that of historic Greek monuments and mythology. It was so peaceful, Nadia took a deep breath and immediately felt relieved.

Feeling an arm link with hers, she lifted her head to see Justine with the biggest grin on her face. “I can’t believe that we’re here! It was so hard keeping this secret for so long.” Justine chuckled as the two of them followed Lori and Hailey in the main lobby building.

No words could leave her mouth as she continued to admire everything that was in sight. Nadia felt like it was a dream, from the villa to the damn plates they used in the resort restaurant. The girls spent their time over the next few days just soaking up the sun and enjoying the amenities that the resort offered, talking about anything and everything under the stars.

Talking about her infertility was tough but she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with them and it was then she realised how much support she had been getting from her friends. She would often look at the girls and internally thank them for making sure she was happy and healthy.

“Let’s go to the beach club!”

That’ll do it. Once it was decided that they would go and have fun, the group got ready and took several pictures before leaving the villa. The beach club was very cute, a very chill vibe knowing that Lewis was in Spa and it was race time. The aesthetics of the place were too beautiful however, that’s what change their minds.

Leaving for a hunt for a good night club in Athens, the girls had the time of their lives and Nadia felt free. Free from everything waiting for her back home, free from her job, free from her mom. She was on cloud nine.

The next few days felt like heaven. Nadia knew that history intrigued more than she could ever imagine but to see herself fully grasp into Greek culture was something she was purely interested in. And so was Lewis. Lori, Justine and Hailey had left earlier to give the two their well deserved time alone. He had arrived and immediately went into vacation mode.

The Hamiltons were in Greece, a summer break that one could dream about for days on end. They would eat, sleep, explore, make love, read, chill in the pool all in the comfort of Amanzoe.

-

MESSAGES

rea: hey nadia. just wanted to check in on you. i miss you

nadia: girl fuck you

*this contact has been blocked!*

Instagram!

nadiahamilton

liked by sza, ryandestiny and 4,747,976 others

nadiahamilton it’s so damn hot, my fault y’all! 😣 (look how gorgeous my girls look 🥹)

view all comments.

user i’m biting my phone rn

user and you just wake up and LOOK LIKE THIS??

user MOTHER IS BACK

user MOTHER IS BACK OH MY GOODNESS

loriharvey hi (louder than everyone else)

nadiahamilton hi my love 🤭

latto that man is so lucky, i’m so jealous of him

nadiahamilton back home in a few days 😝

user NADIA

lewishamilton you’re joking

lewishamilton i just fell to my knees

lewishamilton god, you’re beautiful

user get you a man like lewis y’all!!

user is she not going to address anything??

user she’s not obligated to tell you shit 🫶🏽

mercedesamgf1 the princess of the team 💐

alexandrasaintmleaux i’m barking at my phone, JUST ONE CHANCE PLS

charlesleclerc alex 😧

alexandrasaintmleaux i don’t think you understand

lilymhe TINKERBELL!!

nadiahamilton LILS!!

theestallion allat for US?!

nadiahamilton it’s all for you actually meg

user 2 million likes in an hour, no one is doing it like her i fear 😭

lewishamilton you’re so beautiful

nadiahamilton thank you sthandwa sami 🤍

user DOES HE KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS

user clearly he does omg

user it’s so cute that he’s learning for her

sza this is what i pay my wifi for

nadiahamilton BITCH 😭

haileybieber take all my money

justineskye i think it’s time for another vacation with you, i need it NEOWWW

user she’s your favourite celebrity’s favourite celebrity 😭🫶🏽

tayrussell hey and stuff

nadiahamilton hey bae

amanhotels thank you for the visit! 🤍

user AMAN??? AMANZOE???? THEIR MONEY LONGGGGGGG

user idc nicole is still far better than her

user the same one who couldn’t get a ring after 7 years? c’mon now, let be serious

fencer sister in law serving looks!!!

nadiahamilton don’t think i’m not watching you, kilometre….

fencer what did i do?????

lewishamilton i love you. got you more halloumi

nadiahamilton COMING, I LOVE YOU 🥹🥹

lewishamilton

liked by louisvuitton, fencer and 3,574,168 others

lewishamilton the wife pt.2 in greece

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saint’s notes: hope y’all enjoyed this! 🥹

tags: @non-stop-imagines @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @thisismeracing @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @royallyprincesslilly @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1 @henneseyhoe @saturnville

If your account is blank, that means tumblr can’t find you!

[auggieblogs]

Electric Love ‎♡‧₊˚ | LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Author's note: Hiiii everyone, I hope y'all are doing good. This one-shot had me on the floor, sobbing and throwing up. Only a kiss in the rain with Lando can fix me now. Anyways happy reading, muawh!

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

The evening had started with so much promise. Lando had planned the perfect date for you two - stargazing on a quiet hill in London, sharing chicken tenders, lemon iced tea, and a basket of fries. But as fate would have it, the skies opened up and rain began to pour, mercilessly washing away your carefully crafted plans.

Lando glanced over at you, disappointment evident in his eyes as he drove through the rain-soaked streets of London. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I know you were looking forward to this."

You tried to reassure him with a smile. "It's okay, Lan. We can always try it another time."

Just then, the soft strains of "Electric Love" by BØRNS began playing on the car radio. Lando's lips curled into a mischievous grin, and he turned up the volume all the way up. You looked at him, puzzled. "Why are you smiling?" you asked, not understanding his sudden change in demeanour.

Without a word, Lando parked the car by the side of the road and hurriedly got out, leaving you confused inside. He ran around to your side of the car and, in the pouring rain, held out his hand to you. You hesitated for a moment, thinking he must be crazy, but then you took his hand and stepped out of the car.

The rain drenched you both as you stood there, hands entwined. Then, without warning, Lando started to dance. He twirled you gracefully, the raindrops glistening on your skin, and his smile grew wider with every step. The song played louder, and he pulled you closer, his smile never fading. As the chorus of the song filled the air, Lando leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. Raindrops slid down your face, mixing with the taste of his lips.

Breaking the kiss, Lando whispered, "Jump."

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. But before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He held you securely, continuing to kiss you in the pouring rain. It was a scene straight out of a romance movie, and it was perfect, just like he had hoped.

As the rain began to let up, Lando and you finally pulled away from your kiss, both of you breathless and giggling like teenagers. Raindrops still clung to your eyelashes, and your clothes were thoroughly soaked. Reluctantly, you both got back into the car, turning the heating on to chase away the chill that had settled in your wet clothes. Lando glanced at you and reached out to gently tuck a wet strand of hair behind your ear, his smile soft and affectionate. "You're so beautiful." A shy smile tugged at your lips, and you replied, "You're not so bad yourself."

With a contented sigh, Lando started the car, and you drove back home through the wet London streets. The drive was accompanied by a comfortable silence. The raindrops on the car's windshield provided a soothing background as you both savoured the moment. Lando's hand occasionally found its way to yours, fingers intertwining as you held hands.

When you arrived back at your place, you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Lando, who looked like a drowned puppy with his wet clothes clinging to him. He was sniffling and sneezing every now and then, clearly having caught a cold from the rain.

You couldn't help but playfully tease him. "Aww, look at you, all cold and sniffly. You're like a big baby, aren't you?"

Lando gave you a mock glare, his voice whiny. "Don't make fun of me, Y/N. I'm a delicate flower when I'm sick."

You couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Of course, you are, Lando."

You got up and prepared a hot bath for him, complete with soothing bath salts. Lando pouted as he soaked, making sure you were well aware of his misery.

Afterward, you handed him a bowl of steaming hot chicken noodle soup and a cup of tea. "Eat up, baby," you cooed, holding out a spoonful of soup for him.

He obediently took a bite, looking at you with a grateful smile. "You're the best," he mumbled between spoonfuls.

[leclercsredhelmet]

You Are in Love 𓇼Oscar Piastri

A/N: Hi again! I’m back with an Oscar blurb inspired by You Are in Love. Hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing this cute blurb

“You can see it with the lights out, you are in love”

Australia was your second home, California was your first and London was your third. Despite being your second home, it occupied more space in your heart than the others. Oscar had been away from home throughout this season, which was why you had decided to spend the summer break with his family. Today it had been a family outing for you and the Piastri’s. Propped up by your elbows you lay on your sandy beach towel and engaged in conversation with Oscar’s sisters and Nicole.

It was a picture-perfect beach day, the skies were clear, the sun was ever so bright, and there were plenty of surfable waves. You had gotten a pretty good amount of surf time and caught some great waves. The cooler was jam-packed with snacks and of course, Nicole’s amazing fruit salad, which you had helped yourself to at least three of the tiny bowls.

Currently, you were on your fourth and the Piastri ladies laughed, “Nicole honestly what else do you put in this because I swear to you I can’t make it like you do?” you asked and she laughed. “Dear, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “I’m convinced that there’s some magic in everything you make,” you replied with a smile. “You’re too kind,” she said appreciatively. You smiled as just as you were reaching for a strawberry the bowl was taken from your hands. “Osc!” You whined and he laughed from behind you.

“Oh come on! You’ve snacked on three, and only shared half of one with me!” he exclaimed and you stood up to reach for it but he held it high. “If I share will you lower it?” You asked innocently and batted your eyelashes at him. For a few seconds, he looks at you and bites his lip. If there was one thing that would make him do a double take was you looking at him with those green eyes. “Alright,” he said accepting defeat and you cheered making him smile. Both of you sat side by side with your legs tucked against your chest as you shared the fruits.

“You’re so cute, it makes me sick,” one of Oscar’s sisters said. Everyone laughed, “We make each other sick” Oscar added with a cheeky smile. Nicole made room for her husband who joined your group and he sat down next to his wife, smiling at you two. “Let me guess did they argue over the fruit bowl, she only looked at him and he gave in?” his dad asked. “She did, it’s unfair” Oscar jokingly replied, “No, you’re just in love,” he said looking at his wife. Everyone awed and Nicole hid her face on her husband’s neck.

Passing around cans of sparkling water and snacks you all enjoyed the sun before packing up. The beach had multiple nearby showers so everyone split, you and Oscar found one and rinsed off the sand. He helped you rinse the sand off your hair and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. Giggling you turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his found residence around your waist. His hot skin made contact with yours and a chill ran up your spine.

Looking up at him, you slightly stood up and pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. His lips tasted like sea salt and so did yours. Smiling into the kiss you pulled apart and hugged him, reaching over he turned the shower off and grabbed the towel from your bag draping it around you.

As a means to thank him, you kissed his cheek and pulled apart to do the same for him. With towels around your shoulders, you held hands, interlocking your fingers. Swinging your arms back and forth as you walked, Oscar looked at the movement and laughed.

The sun was to his back and framed him perfectly, he had gotten a bit of a tan already and his skin was starting to look darker, his cheeks were a little red and his hair was messy. Summer’s effect always did good to him, he looked like the person you loved and you adored that. “Babe, why are you staring at me?” Oscar asked. “You just look so pretty, summer always makes you look pretty,” you replied.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty the rest of the year?” he asked while placing his hand on his bare chest in faux hurt. Laughing you shook your head, “No, it’s just that you look different in a good way during summer. You just look exactly like you did when I first met you two summers ago” you concluded and Oscar just pulled you in and kissed your head. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I love you more,” you replied. “Pfft, I love you most,” he replied. You giggled.

His dad had already loaded the surfboards on top of the car and Oscar helped to tie them. Being the gentleman he is he opened the door for his sisters and you, climbing in next to you he closed the door. Smiling you leaned your head on his chest and engaged in conversation with his family. Oscar chimed in once in a while but often he was too busy looking at you or playing with your hair. For the record, he also thought you looked prettier during the summer for the same reason you had explained to him.

Straight out of the beach you all headed to a nearby outdoor restaurant, chatter filled the table, jokes were said all around, laughter was shared and even better company was enjoyed. The Piastri’s truly felt like a second family to you, and you couldn’t help but glance around at the Aussie boy next to you and lean into his soft touches. Having spent a good amount of time out you were well on your way to the Piastri household.

Night had fallen and the stars were so bright, Oscar knew you loved to stargaze so he approached you with a blanket under his arm and he led you to the back porch. Laying it on the ground you took a seat next to him. Ever so gently, he let you both down, an arm was resting on the back of your neck, your head was on his chest and his other spare arm was resting on your stomach.

With your gazes trained on the sky, you pointed out the constellations that started to appear. The moon’s glow cast over you both, and it reflected the silver necklace around your neck. Reaching over Oscar traced his pinkie finger over the pendant, it was a tiny silver-plated koala. He had gifted you this necklace on your first anniversary and ever since you have worn it every day without fail.

Silence was all you needed, while verbal language wasn’t being used, your affectionate touches were enough. Your left arm was raised above your head and your hand was intertwined with his. Oscar pressed soft kisses to the top of your head and you hummed happily while tracing patterns on the arm resting on your stomach.

Closing your eyes you appreciated the smell of his familiar cologne and his body heat. Breaking the silence you cracked a joke and felt your back vibrate while listening to the sound of his laugh. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world” you both whispered at the same time. Twin smiles appeared on your faces, moments like this with him made you realize that you are in love, true love.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 7

Hey, guys! I hope you're all still enjoying this story! It's a blast to write.

Here we have Gareth's explosion and the resulting fallout.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

****

When Eddie got back to his hotel he had all three of his bandmates waiting for him.

Jeff had his arms crossed, glaring at the other two. “I’m here under protest, I told them you had messaged me that you wouldn’t be coming home last night but they still thought you were being kidnapped or some shit.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Gareth and Brian. “I’m a grown ass man who can do grown ass things like have sex with another man and spend the night.” He raised his had to stall the onslaught of questions that were no doubt about to screamed at him. “Of course I didn’t get papped. I never get papped. Jesus Christ.”

“We’re supposed to be working on our ninth album,” Gareth growled. “Fucking act like it.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t get to say that this time. Not after what you and Bri did in London last time,” he hissed. “We had a chance to record in the actual fucking Abbey Road Studios and you two went on a three day bender where Jeff and I didn’t even know where you were. It got so fucking bad, you two have been banned from drinking at all this record.”

Brian had the decency to look chastised. But not Gareth, he doubled down.

“Which is why it’s so important that you don’t do it either,” he snarled back. “We don’t want to be kicked out of this studio too.”

“I was back before breakfast was being served!”

Jeff stood up and held out his hands. “All right, enough! Gareth this attitude is getting out of hand. No one has done more for this band than Eddie and you acting like he’s gonna do a runner at any moment is fucking ridiculous. And after all these years if he hasn’t run off yet, he sure as hell ain’t gonna now.”

“You need to work on your abandonment issues, dude,” Eddie snapped. “I have put my heart and soul into this band and I really don’t appreciate the constant insinuation that each concert, each album is going to be the last.”

Gareth stood up, fists clenched at his side. “You mean to tell me if Steve Harrington walked in here and offered to suck your dick in exchange for you quitting the band, that you wouldn’t?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie said coldly. “And he would never ask. God.” He ran his hands over his face and began to pace. “His little brother is like our number one fan. You know that guy I took with me back to Hawkins?”

Gareth nodded curtly, but Eddie could tell he was starting to unbend.

“He loves our band,” he continued, pulling at his hair. “So that’s just one of many reasons why he wouldn’t. The biggest one, though, Gare.” He whirled around pointed directly at him. “Is that he knows what this band means to me and would never make me choose.”

His lip wobbled and the glimmer of unshed tears stuck to his eyelashes. “Because he loves me.”

Eddie sank to his knees, hands in his hair and began to rock back and forth.

“You take care of Gareth,” Brian said to Jeff, quiet but harsh into the silence that followed that statement. “I’ll take care of Eddie.”

Jeff nodded and bullied Gareth out of the room. The door closed and the remaining two could hear the harsh tones of the two who had left.

Brian got on his knees in front of Eddie and gently removed Eddie’s hands from his hair.

“Hey, Ed,” Brian murmured. “Can you look up at me for a moment? I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Eddie looked up at him. “That’s who I was with last night,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Steve said that he loved me and he kissed me, Bri. It was so special.”

Bri sighed and sat down cross-legged from him. “It’s that we’re all supposed to be sequestered and you snuck off, only telling Jeff where you went. So Gareth and I freaked out a bit.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe a lot.”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair, settling into a more comfortable position on the floor.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice clearer than before. “That was stupid of me. But I don’t think it’s fair that Jeff and I are being punished by the label for something you and Gare did.”

Brian scooted forward until their knees were touching. “It’s not and I am sorry about that. My girlfriend had broken up with me at same time I learned that I was asexual and I was in a really bad place. But I shouldn’t have let Gareth talk me into that bender, there was no excuse.”

“I’m afraid if he has another outburst,” Eddie murmured, “that everyone is gonna want us to replace him. The label, our PR firm, even our Chrissy would be forced to concede that the band can’t continue with him in it. And I don’t want that. But I will not have my life dictated to by someone who is four years my junior.”

Brian let out a long shuddering breath. “You’re right. While we’re here, if he’s willing, we should get him some therapy. Because I don’t want to lose him either. You guys are my family and have been forever.”

“Back ‘attcha, Bri,” Eddie murmured. “Last night was so good and I had awesome news for everyone that I couldn’t wait to tell you guys.”

Brian chuckled. “Even more awesome then sex with Steve Harrington? Must have been off the charts then.”

“I snuck out to see The Fallen in concert,” Eddie said chewing on his lip.

“Of course you did,” Brian said rolling his eyes. “And of course if we’d all gone it would have completely ruined their last show because it would have been all about us and not them.” He stuck out his tongue. “You still suck though.”

Eddie laughed. “Just wait, it gets better.”

Brian waved his hand for him to continue.

“So I was also able to get backstage where I got to meet Abbadon–”

“Gareth is going to murder you and then bring you back to life so that he can murder you all over again,” Brian said dryly, shaking his head.

“Do you think he’ll grant me a stay of execution if I told him I asked Abbadon if he thought his band would want a chance to headline for us?” Eddie asked batting his eyelashes and clutching his hands to his chest dramatically.

Brian blinked at him for a moment. “I guess that would depend on if they said yes...” he said honestly.

“All of them have to agree,” he replied with a shrug, “but Abbadon was pretty sure that they would.”

Brian sat there a moment. He licked his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I think we should use it as leverage.”

Eddie’s head reared back. “What do you mean?”

“Tell Gareth that if he gets therapy, The Fallen will tour with us,” Brian explained. “But if he won’t, he has to take the tour off and go into rehab.”

“Oh.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about it. “I think we should ask Jeff and if he agrees, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Brian nodded. “I love him like a brother, but this was the last straw I think.”

“Let’s call Chrissy in on this, too,” Eddie said.

“Yeah.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do this.”

****

They ended up staging an intervention and using The Fallen as incentive they all got Gareth to agree to counseling.

A therapist would come in twice a week and Gareth would have two hours sessions with this person.

They were carefully vetted by Chrissy and the rest of the band, but finally they decided on one that would help Gareth.

Dr. Sam Owens came in and Eddie, Brian, and Jeff all sat in Brian’s suite, waiting for him to be done.

They tried to work on music but it felt flat without Gareth there. They tried watching a movie but they couldn’t decide which one.

They simple sat in silence until it was five minutes before the session was up. Then they slowly made the trek to Gareth’s suite.

Dr Owens came out first.

“I can’t discuss anything that went on in our session,” he warned.

“It’s just–” Jeff said, distressed. “Are you going to work out with Gareth?”

Brian nodded. “We just want to make sure we don’t need to vet someone else. He’s okay with continuing to see you, right?”

Dr Owens softened. “I understand now. My apologies. Often managers and fellow band members ask– rather, they demand to know what was said.”

“Not cool,” Jeff said. “We’d never. We just want to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible, because we care. We want him to get better.”

Dr. Owens nodded. “Thank you. You should be all right to go in and see him. We didn’t get to anything gritty today.”

They all nodded and bid the doctor goodbye.

Jeff knocked on the door and was promptly told to come in.

All three of them slipped into the suite. Jeff and Brian surged forward and gave him a group hug.

It took them a moment but they realized that Eddie had been quiet this whole time, that he had hung back when they entered the room.

He stood in front of the door with his hands on his lower back, just watching them shower Gareth with affection.

But he didn’t know what to do. Gareth had really hurt him. Had made an event that had been so happy for him and turned it to ash on his tongue. His first time with Steve would always be tainted by Gareth screaming at him.

Steve had been so angry when he heard what Gareth had done and was ready to pull out of the tour, everyone else’s disappointment be damned. But Eddie had talked him down. Told him about the intervention. The deal that could be struck and Steve reluctantly agreed.

One therapy session didn’t make up for all the hurt and anger he had felt.

They all turned to look at him and Eddie felt like he was the one who was in trouble, not Gareth. His lip wobbled as he sucked in a breath.

He turned on his heel and would have ran if he hadn’t felt arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth mumbled into his back. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re my best friend. My brother. I’m so sorry, Ed. Please don’t go.”

Eddie wrapped one hand around Gareth’s arm and pressed the other against the wood frame of the door. He laid his head on the door and let out that shuddering breath in a long exhale.

“You hurt me so bad, Gare,” Eddie whispered. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

He could feel Gareth nodding into his back.

“I don’t know how you didn’t drown like the rest of us,” Gareth said. “But I want to be more like you, Eddie. Please don’t go. I don’t think I could take it.”

Eddie huffed out a sigh.

“It’s because I saw what the worst of those vices did to a person,” he said, slowly turning around so that they were face to face. “And I made a promise to my Uncle Wayne and on my mama’s grave that I wouldn’t turn out like my dad. It hasn’t always been easy, in fact it’s been fucking hard almost all of the time, but I work at it.”

Gareth had tears streaming down his face.

“You’ve got to let me live my life, man,” Eddie finished. “I won’t let you ruin a good thing that I’ve got going for me because you have abandonment issues.”

Gareth let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I promise to be better. I promise to stick with therapy. Just promise you won’t give up on me.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around his friend and held on tight. “I promise.”

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Risk It All Part 4/6

⚠️Warning ⚠️

+18

Reader gets pregnant by Ruben. Although the two are not together Ruben promises to support her through the pregnancy, eventually letting reader stay with him until the child is born.  (This fic includes alot of angst and serious topics)

Enjoy!

You were married to Ruben.

Six months had gone by and following those six months your life was now unrecognizable. After a business like wedding with only one witness present, you were now Mrs Dias, swept into a life of luxurious parties and unwanted media attention, all whilst carrying your first child.

"You're gonna catch a cold."

"It's what I'm hoping for."

Ruben found you on the roof top balcony, hiding from your duties. Elena, the director of your life, would want you inside, shaking people's hands, talking about how excited you and Ruben were to bring new life into this world.

"Y/N, please come inside."

Ruben was better than you at playing along. He didn't mind lying to his friends, lying about how you two met and "decided" to keep your relationship private from the world. They all ate it up, even Ruben's family.

"I wanna go back to the hotel." You said, wrapping your arms around yourself to mend the nights cold. Ruben sighed, but took it upon himself to remove his tuxedo jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "We will, in time. The auction isn't over yet."

"And all the ice cream you can eat." Ruben smiled, grabbing your hand as he led you back inside. He kept his promise, of course. During your time living together you had come to learn that Ruben was no liar, even when the truth hurt sometimes.

It was a charity event in London, the money going to a good cause. However you had no idea why rich people had the need to dress up in expensive items costing more money than what they were actually donating.

"Do you promise to buy me Shawarma when we do leave?" You asked, pouting your lips and batting your eyelashes.

"Wait for me while I get the car." He said, leaving you and Elena sitting on the top of a set of concrete steps, enjoying your Shawarmas.

"He really cares about you." Elena said, unprovoked. "My job would be much more difficult if he didn't."

"Thanks." You mumbled, too busy enjoying your declicious food. The growth of your belly also followed the growth of your appetite, something that caused you to gain a bit of extra pregnancy weight.

"Ruben told me to make sure that you get a nice settlement once the two of you divorce."

You snorted. "How nice of him."

The two of you were literally playing house, getting married only to divorce a minimum of two years after the baby was born. If it wasn't for the security your life with Ruben offered, you would have never agreed to go through with any of it. I mean, you were literally playing with your own life, all because Ruben had a precious image of himself to preserve.

"That's us."

Elena stood, seeing Ruben's Mercedes coming your way. You made the effort to stand up as well, but lost your footing as the weight of your belly tampered with your balance.

"Dear god!" Elena gasped, as you came flying behind her, taking a tumble down the concrete steps.

"My Shawarma." You groaned.

"Y/N!"

Ruben was out of the car and rushing to your side before Elena had managed to. "Fuck, are you okay?" He didn't touch you,  afraid to do more damage as you stood on all fours, a hand wrapped around your belly.

"Y/N, please tell me you're okay?"

"I wasn't finished." You cried, a sad sight seeing the neatly wrapped bread now splatter on the ground before you.

"She needs to got to the hospital Ruben." Elena heels clicked as she descended the steps, reaching the bottom of them. "Now!"

"I'm fine." You reassured, but struggled to get up from the ground by yourself. Ruben's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up with one swoop.

"At least let someone check her out." Elena suggested.

"I promise, I'm all good." You said, trying to laugh it off.

It was as busy as any emergency in a big city. People from everywhere came with broken limbs and bleeding wounds to tend. For this you felt guilty that Ruben managed to convince a doctor to prioritize you. "Well, you seem fine to me Mrs Dias." The doctor stepped away from the stool on which you sat, removing his rubber gloves to make a few notes on his computer. "Has there been any unusual activity since your fall, like the baby moving around more than usual?"

"No." Ruben said, determined. "I'll take you to the emergency room." It was the urgency in his voice and the way his hands trembled as he still held to support you. "Okay." You nodded, agreeing to let Ruben take you to the nearest emergency room.

You bit your lip, pondering his question.  "Um, no. I don't think so. It doesn't really do that."

The doctor turned back from his computer, a deep frown on his face as he looked at you. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"The baby." You shrugged. "It doesn't move around. Or at least I haven't felt it kick yet."

The doctor turned to Ruben, the two of them sharing the same terrified gaze.

"What?" You frowned.

The doctor stood, retrieving another pair of gloves as well as calling for a nurse to assist him.

"What's going on?" You asked, uncertainty in your voice.

"Mrs Dias, it says you're six months pregnant."

"Yes, and?"

The doctor and his nurse worked together to rearrange his office, bringing in a monitor that looked like a tv screen on wheels. "Prepare for an emergency ultrasound. Patient is six months pregnant but has failed to notice any signs of life from the fetus."

"Doctor please, tell me what's going on. Is my baby going to be alright?" Things were moving fast, as well as your heart rate. You knew that things were serious when the nurse started attaching clips to your finger tips, setting up a graphic to show your pulse. Whilst all of this was going on the doctor had you lay on a medical table, pulling up your shirt as to expose your belly. "This might feel cold." He said, the only warning before rubbing a cooling gel across your stomach.

"Ruben." You flinched, practically panicking now.

"Hey, I'm here." He said, grabbing a hold of your hand, squeezing it to reassure you.

Your eyes traveled to the ceiling, the blinding lights causing tears to slid down the side of your face. You gasped as pressure was applied to your stomach, the doctor moving around with his tools. However, you were to afraid to look and confirm this.

"Ultrasound begins." The doctor said, speaking to his nurse. "We have a visual of the fetus...Everything looks fine. Let's move on to localizing the heartbeat..."

You tilted your head as Ruben grip around your hand tightened. He looked focus, brows furrowed as his eyes were fixated on the little TV screen. The suspens was killing you. What if something was wrong with your....

"Hearbeat located." The doctor said,  followed by a collective sigh from both Ruben and the nurse. You, however was still trembling all over.

"Congratulations Mrs Dias, you and your husband await a beautiful baby girl."

********************************************

You returned to the hotel room around midnight. Ruben was still on the phone with Elena as you went to wash up. Only when you were halfway asleep did you feel a dip in the bed that you shared.

"Ruben?"

He krept closer, doing something that the two of you had never done before. "I'm here." He said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Why are you shaking?" Your eyes flung open, turning around in order to face him. Your heart sank once you saw the exhaustion in his face, the remaining terror in his eyes. "Ruben?" Your hands went to caress his cheek, but he jerked away, not wanting to be consoled.

"Ruben?"

He sat up and you followed.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, burring his face in his hands as if he suddenly suffered a severe headache.

"Ruben, please. You're scaring me." You scooted closer,  desperate to be near him, to touch him. However he jerked away once more, refusing to be touched. It broke your heart, seeing him this way.

"I thought I...." He mumbled. "I thought I lost..."

"Oh Ruben, the baby is okay. Everything is gonna be okay." You didn't care if he refused to be touched, you couldn't take it, leaping forwards to pull him close. However Ruben caught you in motion, grabbing your hands just as you were about to touch him. The room was dark but Ruben eyes were visible in the moonlight. They were shimmering,  shimmering with his tears. He pressed his lips together, uttering the words through gritted teeth. "No Y/N, I could have lost you." Your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on him and only him. He surrendered, lowering your hands so that they rested on each side of his face. "I could have lost you." He whispered, shifting his head a little so that your hand covered a part of his mouth, his lips soft beneath the palm of your hands. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you Y/N."

"You won't lose me Ruben. Not me or the baby."

"Fuck."

He looked up, eyes wide. The palm of your hand still covered his mouth, however his intentions were not to speak. He kissed it, the center of your hand, moving on to kiss the back of it, tracing the kisses all the way up towards your forearms, railing you in. You gasped once he had you pressed flush, against him, his head buried in the crease of your neck. He inhaled your scent,  preserving it in his memory. "Ruben." You groaned. The heat of the moment capturing you too. You knew that you wanted this, you've always wanted this. "I want you Ruben." The words were whispered against the smooth skin below his ear. Ruben responded with a low grunt made deep down in his throat. And then his hand slipped between the sheets in search for an opening.

Your back arched, to the sensation of him, Ruben's fingers, making their way down your damped panties.

"Say you want me Y/N." He huffed. "Say you want me forever."

"I want you Ruben, forever."

It was all that needed to be said. No further words were spoken as the movments between you synchronized into something fluid, a liquid of some sort. A liquid of love. Yes, it was the only to describe it. The two of you were in love.

[whorediaries-09]

pick your poison, babe;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- suggestive content, fluff. a/n- imgonnagetyouback stans rise for the national anthem.

little train.

'you're blushing,' he says. the woman sitting across him laughs, making no effort to hide the obvious effect he has on her. fluttering her eyelashes at him, she runs her tongue across the row of her front teeth,

'yeah so?' she leans forward, 'haven't seen anyone fall for your charm before you?' he tilts his head back, black inky strands glowing in the dim light of the pub. the bark like laughter emits from his lips, reaching your ears like a melodious tune.

it's a wonder really, how he hasn't spotted you yet. you're not sitting much far away from sirius' little 'date'-which you'd been informed of by james. lily had informed you that it was nothing but a ploy to make you jealous.

two could play the game, you'd thought as you turned up at the pub. if you knew sirius black any better, you were sure he wouldn't choose such a shabby place for a date for a woman he actually fancied. that also confirmed your suspicions of this whole set up being just a ploy.

'let me take you home,' he said. the woman leaned closer to him, mouthing a 'sure'. he was being so bubbly. you wanted nothing more but to punch away his piously fake chivalrous acts. you wiped your greasy fingers on your lilac short skirt which fitted you like skin.

god damn it, the place didn't even have fucking tissues.

you decided you'd enough. throwing in a few notes to pay off the bill and the tips, you snuck out the pub. you searched for the pocket knife you kept in your purse; london could get dangerous at night, plan ready and steady to be put in action.

you found his motorbike standing at the pavement, so innocently. you smirked to yourself, knife digging into the tires, letting out the air.

sirius had done his research. he knew the price going in.

*-

'i'll tell you one thing, honey. i can tell if somebody still wants me.' you said, brushing off his efforts to flirt with you. of course you knew he wanted you. but the game was not finished. not yet, anyways. he pouted.

'i know you punctured my motorbike that night, sweetheart,' he said, casually, as if not noticing the momentary freezing of your body or your parting lips before you put on your nonchalant facade.

'i'll make sure to smash up your bike next time,' you replied, with equal mirth, even though you couldn't really escape the heat that crawled beneath your cheeks. he chuckled, the smoke billowing out his mouth. his free hand crawled to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. he leaned closer, eyes on the book on your lap. lips brushing against your ear, he whispered,

'and i'll make you think twice about it.'

and god forbid you found yourself hanging by the thread of your sanity. your stomach jolted with butterflies as he moved away, taking another drag.

turning you to ashes.

he threw the burnt end on the ground, crushing it with his boot.

'i know what i want, sweetheart. and trust me,' he breathed, getting up and standing up in front of you, finger under your jaw. 'you'll find you were never not mine.'

you smirked, raising an eyebrow.

'or maybe i'll just flip the script. take the upper hand. might just love you till the end, or leave you like a dumb house party,'

he coyly smiled.

there was danger in the heat of your touch. but god forbid he'd be lying if he hadn't already picked the heated posion.

*-

'i've got someone,' you said, blowing a raspberry at his very poor and lame attempt at impressing you. it wasn't true, of course. but he didn't need to know that. he rolled his eyes.

'say you got somebody and i'll say i got someone too. what's the point of lying to each other?'

'you're not gonna leave are you?' you asked, feigning annoyance, pulling away your feet from him, as he'd been painting your nails.

'nope. even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you,'

'you're so annoying,' you pushed your head into the soft pillow. he chuckled.

'you're a bad liar,'

you grumbled. there wasn't actually any game either of you were playing. all the both of you were doing was trying to escape from each others feelings. like a trap, to see who'd fall into it first.

the pieces were broken, but the both of you wanted to play the game.

*-

'sirius orion black!' your scream was loud, paired with the loud crash of his door. you were usually very careful when it came to rented apartments, but sirius had taken it too far this time. he had no business fucking up your date-

you slammed against his form, fresh out the shower. your cheeks instantly reddened, realizing the situation you were in. you'd just walked into sirius fresh out the shower. yet your anger overpowered any other emotion of embarrassment, so you lashed out, not really caring about the ink on his bare chest, his toned body, the white towel wrapped low and loose around his thin and narrow hips and the pellets of water flowing down his porcelain skin...

'you're staring and screaming.'

'i'm not!'

'keep telling yourself that.'

'you-shut up! you ruined my date. i was looking forward it to it-'

any further words were silenced by the harsh planting of his lips falling on yours, hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you towards his wet body, pushing you towards his bedroom.

'all you do is fucking talk, god sweetheart,' he grumbled, pushing you on the bed.

'i don't-'

'see, you're doing it again.' he said, knitting his eyebrows. 'we don't have to play this game, you know? the pieces are already broken.'

of course you knew it. you heard the whispers in his eyes. he made you think twice. and of course you knew you he was never not yours.

'come here,' you ordered. he smiled wolfishly, pushing your further on the mattress, lips hot on your warm skin. he kissed soft and slow along the line of your blouse, undoing the buttons with his teeth.

'you still going to smash up my bike, sweetheart?' he asked. you laughed, breathlessly.

'whether i'm going to be your wife or smash up your bike, i haven't decided yet,'

**********************************

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(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[fantasyescapes17]

Candle (Part 2)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 5.2k+

Part 1 Part 3

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

It did occur to you that you should confide in your dear friend Miss Ella Williams about your encounter with Jeonghan. But Ella spent the entire carriage ride home gushing about how well travelled Mr. Xu Minghao was, and all the exotic places he had seen. You barely had time to speak. 

And perhaps you did not truly care to try. 

What Mr. Yoon Jeonghan had said and done was not only flirtatious, it was also a secret and telling anyone would surely destroy the excitement bubbling inside of you (particularly since Ella would tell you off for approaching Jeonghan so shamelessly). You had never had a secret before- much less one that involved such a dashing gentleman- and it was really quite thrilling. 

“Miss, where are your pearls?” Daisy asked, concerned, as she helped you undress for bed that night and found no necklace. "Have you lost them? Should I send word to the staff at the assembly rooms to search for them?"

You bit back a smile. "Oh- no need, Daisy. Ella wanted to try them on so I lent them to her. She will return them to me when we meet tomorrow."

Daisy relaxed. "Oh, of course, miss. Good night, then."

"Good night."

You closed your eyes and dreamt of Yoon Jeonghan until the candle in your bedchamber had completely burnt out. 

—----------------------------------------------

The Hongs' ball was a grand affair of unrivalled proportions. It was no secret that Viscount Hong was currently 'in the market' for a bride, so his mother had spared no expense for this season's ball hosted at their palatial London home. Even if you had been lacking for dance partners (which you were not) you could have passed an interesting evening simply by looking around all the lavishly furnished rooms at the Hongs’ magnificent manor. Your brother Wonwoo (who refused to dance beyond his mandatory two dances per ball) had surely found some interesting artwork to admire.  

But you had lots of dancing and socialising to do. 

You donned your favourite dress for the evening and decided to forgo a necklace. After all, when Jeonghan returned your pearls after your dance, it would be strange indeed if you were already wearing a necklace. 

"Show me your dance card, friend," Ella insisted as she pulled you aside and seized your little card. It was almost full. The evening was more than half over and you had already danced with a few gentlemen including Mr. Kim Mingyu and Mr. Hessington. You had promised the next one to the lively Mr. Lee Seokmin.

"You still have one dance unspoken for," Ella remarked. 

"Oh, I-I have promised the last dance of the evening as well- it is just that the gentleman has not yet signed my card," you admitted. Ella gave you a strange look but she was luckily distracted by the sight of one of her favourite new gentleman admirers, Mr. Xu Mighao entering the room. 

You watched with amusement as Ella batted her eyelashes at Minghao from across the room and gave him a pretty smile. You laughed. 

“What are you doing?” you demanded of her.  

She turned back to you. “Trying to coax Mr. Xu to ask me for a second dance. Do you think he might? He seems a little shy but I am quite certain that with some time and effort I might get him to make a bolder move. Will you excuse me?” 

“Oh, Ella, wait!” you grabbed your friend’s hand. 

“Yes?” 

“Will you lend me your little book?” you lowered your voice. “You know the one…”  

Ella giggled. “Someone’s caught your eye, have they? Of course. Here it is- I must go and take my chance to speak to Mr. Xu, so keep the book safely with you and I will collect it from you  later.” 

You accepted the book gratefully. It occurred to you that even if you did not tell Ella about the little candle that Yoon Jeonghan had lit in your heart, you should be better prepared for your next encounter with the man. Admittedly, you knew very little about Jeonghan. Only that he attended Oxford with Viscount Hong and had two half-sisters; one that had been out in society for many years but was still unmarried and the other one yet to debut. 

There was still a minute or two until your dance with Mr. Lee Seokmin so you quickly opened the book and flipped to find the page on Jeonghan. It was not nearly as full as Kim Mingyu’s had been (you were pleased to find that Mr. Yoon did not have a list of heartbroken women to occupy multiple lines of the page). 

But then you saw it. 

Rumoured to be an absolute  villain, Ella had scribbled at the top of the page. Mr. Yoon’s father died intestate and he inherited his entire vast fortune. Possesses wealth beyond measure but refuses to provide dowries for his half-sisters- and will not financially support his step-mother. Has been seen actively sabotaging Miss Yoon’s suitors. 

You stared at the page in shock. Could this be true? Could it really be true? Was Mr. Yoon Jeonghan such a selfish person that he would reduce his sisters and step-mother to poverty while he kept his father’s entire estate? That was far beyond normal selfishness. That was monstrous- even if he disliked his sisters excessively, it did not justify. There were times when you and Wonwoo did not see eye-to-eye but you could not imagine your brother going to such lengths to ruin your life. 

If Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was such a terrible person… 

You felt small and foolish. How could you have allowed yourself to be swept away by Jeonghan’s devilish ways? You had hoped for excitement, certainly, but this far beyond what you (or any sensible woman) could accept. If he treated his sisters this way, then why would he treat his wife any better? 

Not that you would ever become his wife. 

No, no, no, that was certainly out of the question now. 

“Miss Jeon! I believe the dance is about to begin.” 

You quickly tucked away Ella’s book in your skirts before turning to a smiling Mr. Lee Seokmin. He had his hand held out towards you- you accepted it with a forced smile and allowed him to lead you through the dance. You were fortunate that Mr. Lee was a cheerful gentleman who did not mind your short responses to his questions. It was impossible to focus on Seokmin when your mind was whirling with thoughts of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, and how foolishly you had thrown yourself in the path of such a villainous man. 

What were you going to do?

The dance ended. Mr. Seokmin thanked you and went on his way- and you were struck with the terrible realisation that in a few short moments, the last dance of the evening would begin and Mr. Yoon would come to claim your company as promised. 

No. You could not dance with him. You had made enough of a fool enough of yourself and you decided you had rather die of embarrassment than risk dancing with him and having to speak to him after your discovery of his true character. What would you even say to the man? I apologise for flirting with you the other day, but really, I had no idea that you were a villain? No, it would not simply not do. The mere thought made you nauseous. 

Your eyes desperately searched the ballroom for an escape and you saw Mr. Kim Mingyu standing nearby and calmly sipping a drink as he eyed the refreshment table.  

“Mr. Kim! Do you have a partner for the next dance?” you demanded, trying not to reveal how flustered you were. 

Mingyu blinked down at you with mild surprise. “No, I was actually going to sit down for this one-” 

“You must dance with me.” 

Mr. Kim Mingyu smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “Miss Jeon, that is quite shocking. Not only is it improper for a lady to ask a gentleman to dance, but unless you have forgotten, we have already danced together once this evening. A second dance would surely raise some questions-” 

Mingyu suddenly stopped speaking. His eyes landed on someone behind you. You recognized the intruder with a sinking feeling when you heard the familiar voice that had occupied your dreams all night. 

“Miss Jeon. I believe you owe me the next dance,” Mr. Yoon said calmly. 

Your throat tightened. You preferred to think that you appeared calm but, in reality, the utter panic that had seized your entire body was quite evidently written on your face. You turned around to face Yoon Jeonghan but kept your shaky gaze fixed on a random spot on his chin to avoid having to read the expression in his eyes. 

“M-Mr. Yoon,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “It is a pleasure to see you, but I am afraid you are quite mistaken. I have already promised this dance to Mr. Kim.” 

Mingyu raised an eyebrow but did not speak. 

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes with a hint of confusion. He was not stupid. It was immediately evident to him that your tone- indeed, your entire manner- towards him had changed drastically since the previous evening. You appeared almost afraid of him. Jeonghan’s smile fell, but he did not argue. He calmly took a step back and nodded. 

“I see. My apologies, I must have been mistaken,” he said simply. “Enjoy your dance.” 

Jeonghan left without any further ado and you swallowed deeply before turning back to face Mingyu. Mingyu was not inclined to allow your awkward behaviour to pass without comment. He glanced awkwardly at the retreating Mr. Yoon, and then back at you. 

“Miss Jeon, I really have to ask-” 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” you cut him off quickly. 

“Yes, but-” 

“You said I could always summon you if I required a dance partner. Are you reneging on your promise?” you insisted. 

Mingyu sighed before offering you his arm. “No, I certainly do not renege on my promises. But you should know that Mr. Yoon is a close friend to both myself and your brother. Secrets don’t stay hidden for long in the ton- and you will certainly not be able to keep yours for very long if you are this terrible at concealing your feelings.” 

You flushed, but could not think of anything to say. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Kim Mingyu was not wrong. Your secret barely lasted a few hours- indeed, it was exposed that very night. 

“Is there something I should know about you and Mr. Yoon?” your brother Wonwoo asked as soon as you arrived home from the Hongs’ ball. 

Your parents had already retreated to their bedchambers for the night and you were downstairs in the grand foyer with your brother. Wonwoo had never been one to speculate or inquire excessively into your life. He was more calm and level-headed than you. 

His lack of interest in most things also made him easier to deceive. 

You flushed and pretended to occupy yourself by adjusting a decorative piece on the mantel. “Mr. Yoon? Not at all. I know very little about him.” 

“Then why have I been asked to return this to you?” 

You turned slowly and your heart sank as you saw what Wonwoo was dangling between his fingers. Your pearl necklace. Oh no. You had been exposed. The necklace made everything look far more scandalous than it really was, and if word spread among the ton that a gentleman had been in possession of one of your necklaces then it would lead to all sort of speculation, and your virtue would be questioned, and you would be ruined, simply ruined-

“Sister,” Wonwoo said gently as he pressed a comforting hand to your shoulder. “Relax. Your secret is safe.  It is only Mr. Kim Mingyu and I who have heard of it, and neither of us would allow this to be revealed further.” 

You blinked up at him with tears forming in your eyes. “Oh Wonwoo, I have been quite stupid!” you confessed miserably. 

Wonwoo gestured to an armchair. “Sit.” 

“I-I really shouldn’t have flirted with Mr. Yoon, I know, and I should probably have scolded him when he took the necklace, but you must believe that I really had no idea of his villainous reputation!” you confessed. 

Your horror at having discovered Jeonghan’s true nature had caused you to forget entirely about the fact that he still had your pearl necklace in his possession. Wonwoo sighed as he sat opposite you. Your brother did not seem angry- his expression was far more sympathetic than you felt you deserved. 

“You are right that you have been stupid, but I’m not sure you understand the exact instances in which you have been stupid,” Wonwoo replied.  

You frowned. “What?” 

“Firstly, sister, you are lucky that Mr. Yoon is a gentleman. He returned the pearls directly to me and explained the circumstances. Considering how you offended him by openly declining a dance, a lesser man may not have been so careful to ensure that the necklace- and word of it- did not fall into the wrong hands.”

“Y-yes, I suppose not,” you admitted. 

“What caused you to suddenly refuse to dance with him?” Wonwoo questioned. “From what I understand, you were quite happy to indulge in flirtation with him at the assembly rooms yesterday evening.”  

“I had not heard then,” you mumbled. “About his family.” 

“That he has supposedly stolen his sisters’ dowries, ruins their prospects, and threatens to throw his step-mother out into the streets?” Wonwoo asked.

“Well-yes.” 

“And you believe these rumours?” 

Your eyes widened. “Should I not?” 

Wonwoo rubbed his temple with his fingers. He seemed torn. “These are not my secrets to tell so I will not be the one to reveal them to you. But let me say one thing, sister. If I had done to you what Mr. Yoon is rumoured to have done to his sisters, you would never speak to me again.” 

“That is… true,” you admitted. 

“And yet Miss Yoon does not appear to bear any grudges against her brother.” 

You paused and thought about it for a moment. It was true; Miss Yoon was often in the company of her brother and you had never seen her look displeased or upset with Jeonghan. You had simply assumed that she was a good-natured woman- she certainly appeared oddly content with her dire circumstances- but surely, if she had such a villainous brother as that, she would not want to be in his company?

“I mean- if she is financially dependent upon him, then it stands to reason that-” you began to argue. 

Wonwoo stood up before pressing the pearl necklace into your hands. “I won’t say anything further. Just be more careful in the future, sister.”

You clasped the necklace tightly and nodded. 

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Wonwoo.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You spent a few days mulling over your thoughts. It was difficult to decide what to do- your feelings were mixed and you could not quite determine whether you had made a mistake in distancing yourself from Mr. Yoon, or if it was for the best that you did not continue an acquaintance with a man who had such a terrible reputation in society. 

It was not long before you were presented with an opportunity to learn more. 

“We have been invited to a ladies’ tea this afternoon by Mrs. Yoon,” your mother informed you over breakfast later that week. “I have accepted the engagement for us, I hope you will not find it an unpleasant way to spend your afternoon?” 

Your eyes widened. “Not at all, mother, it sounds lovely.” 

“Perhaps you will have an opportunity to befriend Miss Yoon,” Wonwoo suggested lightly as he buttered his toast. You frowned at your brother across the table- but he did not look up at you. “I hear her circumstances are quite dire, what with her half-brother refusing her a dowry.” 

Mother narrowed her eyes at him. 

“And why are you so interested in Miss Yoon, pray tell?” she insisted. “Perhaps you are intending to court her?” 

“I have no particular intention of courting any woman. I only recommended Miss Yoon as a potential friend to my sister,” Wonwoo replied coolly. 

Your mother turned back to you with a sigh. 

“I worry that we shall have to consider ourselves fortunate if your brother agrees to wed any woman- her dowry be damned. But we shall not allow Wonwoo to rain upon our day, my darling. Let us take a walk in the garden before we depart for the Yoon's."

You nodded. "Of course, mother."

You felt rather nervous that afternoon when you entered Yoons' large London home and took your seat in their tea parlour. It was a ladies' tea, so you knew that the chances of seeing Jeonghan were very slim- but it still made you anxious to be walking around a home that he owned. 

"What stunning artwork!" the ladies gasped. There were at least ten women gathered in the Yoon's parlour for the afternoon tea. The lack of sufficient common topics of conversation meant that the lavish art pieces in the parlour served as an ice-breaker. 

"Yes- I selected these myself," Mrs. Yoon gushed. "When my husband was still alive, of course. He was such a lover of the arts, he really understood the value of having quality pieces to brighten up a room-"

It was incredibly dull. 

You had very little interest in art or paintings, and absolutely none in the uninformed opinions of the older ladies of the ton. You had no choice but to pick up your teacup and approach the quiet Miss Yoon. She had not spoken much all afternoon, but smiled at you kindly. 

"Miss Yoon," you greeted the woman. "I do not think we have properly met."

She welcomed you to sit beside her. "That is correct- but I have heard much about you, Miss Jeon. I have also had the pleasure of meeting your brother and dancing with him a few times."

"So you have had the unpleasant experience of being one of his obligatory two dance partners at every ball," you teased. But your interest was now piqued- how did she know Wonwoo? "May I ask how you came to be in the unfortunate position of dancing with Wonwoo?"

"We were introduced last year by my brother, Jeonghan," Miss Yoon said simply. "I believe Jeonghan knew him from their days at Oxford together."

You sipped your tea to hide your surprised expression. It was strange- Jeonghan's name fell from her lips so easily and without the slightest hint of malice or disdain. If her brother was such a villain, surely she could not speak of him in such a casual tone? 

Or was Miss Yoon simply an expert at hiding her emotions?

You gently prodded further. 

"Wonwoo hardly speaks about his time at Oxford although I ask him so many questions," you began. You would have to tread carefully in your quest for information. "I have always been fascinated by the idea of going away to college. But Wonwoo will not indulge me. Is your brother the same?"

Miss Yoon blinked in surprise. "Oh- no, Jeonghan speaks of his time at Oxford often. We frequently have his old classmates over to dine or for tea. I have heard plenty of stories."

"I see."

"Perhaps if stories of Oxford interest you, you should speak to Mr. Kim Mingyu or Mr. Kwon Soonyoung. Even Mr. Lee Seokmin. They are all very engaging story-tellers, and I doubt any of them would decline to answer questions from a beautiful young woman such as yourself."

You frowned. This was too strange. Surely if there was bad blood between Miss Yoon and her brother, he would not introduce her to his old classmates and tell her about his time away at college? It was stranger still that she should be so familiar with Jeonghan's friends- Mr. Kim, Mr. Kwon…

Miss Yoon blinked at you in surprise. "Have I offended you, Miss Jeon?"

You quickly masked your frown. 

"Oh! No, not at all, Miss Yoon! I apologise- I was only thinking of how I wish my own brother was a little more interested in society and conversation," you lied quickly. "I could not help but admire how beautiful your home is. If it is not too much trouble, could I perhaps see some of the other rooms?"

Miss Yoon nodded. She was not particularly enjoying herself in the tea parlour either. "I should be delighted to show you the house."

You each informed your mothers of your intention to explore the rest of the house, and were sent off with their blessing. 

"I am afraid you do not appear to enjoy these afternoon teas," you remarked to Miss Yoon, while she showed you around the grand dining room and half-heartedly explained the origins of the antique china displayed in the cabinets. 

She smiled thoughtfully. "I will not lie- I shall be glad when I no longer have to come to London every season. I would be perfectly happy to spend all year in the countryside."

"But will you not feel lonely? There must be very little society in the countryside," you remarked. 

She smiled. "I should prefer the company of one or two people I love, over an entire society of people I do not."

"Oh," you mumbled. "I actually rather like being in London for the season. The balls are such good fun, and I enjoy dancing very much. Perhaps the conversation becomes dull on occasion, but… I believe dull conversation is better than none at all."

Miss Yoon laughed. "Of course, Miss Jeon. I never meant to suggest otherwise. If you like society, then of course you must enjoy the season to its fullest. You are young, beautiful, and well-loved by the ton."

You looked up at her boldly. "Do you mean to imply that you are not?'

"I…" Miss Yoon gave you a gentle smile. "God forbid you should remain unmarried well into your late twenties with your prospects lessening by the day. Perhaps then you shall not enjoy society as much either."

"Perhaps not," you admitted. 

"But I do not believe you shall have to suffer the same fate as me. You seem to have captured the interest of many young men."

It was increasingly odd. While Miss Yoon spoke of her suffering and decreasing prospects, you did not see any actual pain in her eyes or hear any anxiety in her tone. She talked about her difficulties plainly, almost as though she spoke of someone other than herself. 

Something was very, very unusual about all this. 

Arm-in-arm, you both exited the dining room and entered the drawing room- and were struck suddenly by a shocking sight. 

Mr. Yoon Jeonghan had just entered the drawing room from a different entryway. You found yourself standing face to face with the handsome man in his brown riding jacket.  Jeonghan's dark hair was slightly tousled, and he had a hunting rifle tucked under his arm. 

"Jeonghan!" Miss Yoon greeted her brother pleasantly. "I did not know you would be here. Have you returned from hunting so soon?"

Jeonghan nodded. His dark eyes landed on you  briefly but he did not allow them to linger for too long.  He cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm afraid there was a bit of rain so the game was not as plentiful as it could have been. I see you have company."

"Ah-yes- Miss Jeon, allow me to introduce you to my brother, Jeonghan," Miss Yoon said. 

"We have met," you said hastily. "We were introduced at the Hessington's ball by Viscount Hong. It-it is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Yoon."

Jeonghan nodded. 

"And you, Miss Jeon."

"I was showing Miss Jeon around the house. The conversation in the tea parlour with the rest of the ladies was growing quite monotonous," Miss Yoon explained pleasantly. "But perhaps we should be returning now."

Jeonghan set his rifle down and reached into his coat pocket."Of course. But just a moment- sister- I have a letter for you from our mutual friend."

You watched as Miss Yoon attempted to conceal her delight at the envelope that her brother produced. Had you not been paying close attention, you might not have noticed the way her usually calm eyes suddenly  lit up like a beacon.  

But you were paying attention, and you did notice. As a fellow woman you could not possibly mistake the expression on her face. 

That was the expression of a woman in love. 

It all clicked into place suddenly. 

Of course. Of course, Miss Yoon is having an affair, of course she is perfectly happy without a dowry or suitors or prospects because she does not need any of it! She is in love!

You straightened up and smiled. "It would appear that you have been awaiting that letter, Miss Yoon- please feel free to sit down and read it, if you like. Perhaps Mr. Yoon might help me find my way back to the tea parlour?"

Miss Yoon hesitated. "I…"

Jeonghan looked at you for a long moment. He was evidently confused. His expression made it quite clear that he did not know why you had publicly rejected him at the Hongs' ball but were now orchestrating a situation to be alone with him. But, for whatever reason, he did not protest. 

Jeonghan offered you his arm. "It would be a pleasure to escort you back to the tea parlour, Miss Jeon."

Miss Yoon could scarcely object when every part of her yearned to be left alone and read her letter. She allowed Jeonghan to lead you out of the drawing room without much ado. 

The moment you were alone, Jeonghan tensed.

"Miss Jeon-"

"Mr. Yoon," you stopped walking and turned to face him. Jeonghan's handsome face looked down at yours with a softness that you had not expected. "Mr. Yoon, you must be terribly confused. I owe you an apology."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I do not require one."

"But it is true that I agreed to dance with you, and then avoided you-"

"Miss Jeon," Jeonghan said firmly. His voice was tense but gentle. "You do not owe me an apology. I behaved inappropriately at the assembly rooms the other evening. I was carried away by our flirtation. I am the one who should apologise. It was never my intention to pressure you to dance with me, or to cause you discomfort."

You bit your lip. "I-I was not uncomfortable-"

"You very clearly were."

"It was not because of the… the flirtation," you mumbled, still finding it a little embarrassing to use the word openly in the presence of a gentleman. 

The corner of Jeonghan's lips curved upwards. 

"Oh?" he asked. 

"Only because- just before our planned dance, I heard some things that made me…question your character…"

Jeonghan's eyes widened in understanding. 

"I see."

"But I am not sure what to think anymore. I did not think I wanted to associate with a man that would take his sisters' dowries. But my brother vouches for you, and the very woman who is the supposed victim of your offences- your sister- does not seem to bear you any ill-will. ."

Jeonghan folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "I understand."

"Is it true? Have you really taken away their dowries?" you asked him boldly. You looked up and met his eyes- Jeonghan seemed surprised and a little pained. He was silent for a long moment before he responded. 

"The rumours are not entirely baseless," he admitted carefully. 

"You are avoiding the question."

"I may be."

"But you are a gentleman," you pressed him. "And you cannot deny it, since only a gentleman would have quietly returned the pearls to my brother without breathing a word to anyone. So I would like to believe that whatever offences the ton believes you to be guilty of- perhaps you have committed these offences not to harm your sister, but rather to enable her happiness."

Jeonghan stiffened. "I can neither confirm, nor deny-"

"I am not asking you to confirm it. I am well aware, Mr. Yoon, that you are not a man who easily admits to anything. I am simply telling you what I have chosen to believe," you replied. 

Jeonghan smiled. "I suppose you are free to believe whatever you choose, Miss Jeon. I can hardly stop you."

You smirked. "And you are quite sure?"

"I have no objection."

"Would you still have no objection if I saw fit to mention my beliefs to others?" you teased. "For you see, I appear to have stumbled into possession of a secret- one that I have no incentive to keep,  since I owe no loyalty to any of the involved parties."

"I will depend upon your secrecy, Miss Jeon-"

"You may not. I do not keep secrets for free, Mr. Yoon. If you do not want me to expose your true nature as a selfless brother and gentleman to the ton, I will require more than empty-handed pleas."

Jeonghan chuckled. "You are full of surprises, Miss Jeon. Very well. I will not plead with you. But there must be some way to secure your secrecy?"

You looked up at him coyly through your eyelashes.

"There is. I shall require compensation," you said to him in a low voice. Jeonghan's eyes twinkled with delight as he looked down at you "And before you ask- no, I have no need of money."

Mr. Yoon smirked. 

"Then what may I offer you instead, Miss Jeon?"

You hummed thoughtfully. "I believe this secret is large enough to necessitate collecting my compensation in instalments. You may pay me the first instalment on Monday- by dancing with me at the Hastings' ball."

Jeonghan leaned down to whisper quietly in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

"We have a deal."

—---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for the attention this series has received! I honestly did not expect such a positive response since my blog is so new, but I guess I'm not the only one who gets all tingly at the thought of regency!Seventeen, haha. I wanted to keep Candle short but I got carried away- so it will be a three-parter now and I'm working on the third part so hopefully in a few days I can upload it? I'm doing Mingyu next so hopefully you guys are excited for that too!

Feel free to reach out to me with feedback or anything! I'm not sensitive. :D Also any advice on how best to tag my fics would be helpful, I'm not sure what the best practice is for this stuff.

[carolmunson]

eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite. 

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading: 

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker. 

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center. 

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.” 

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” 

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.” 

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?” 

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods. 

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose. 

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.” 

“Sven?” 

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.” 

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips. 

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!” 

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!” 

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes. 

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!” 

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!” 

[missezramay]

ted lasso, post-finale thoughts.

I went into the finale thinking yeah, if the writing serves, I can accept any outcome even if it's not exactly what I want. Instead, I was hit with a plethora of mixed emotions I didn't expect to have. Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, small bursts of joy in between, and just deep sadness. Almost 20 hours later and I'm still incredibly dissatisfied and processing. For the most part, finales should provide a feeling of celebration and relief. I... don't feel any of that.

I'm just really trying to pinpoint why I'm so sad.

Of course everything inevitably has to come to an end. Of course Ted was always going to reunite with his kid. Of course it's not about winning or losing. Of course Tedbecca can remain platonic if that was always the plan. Of course that's the way life goes, but...

For a show (and this season particularly) that constantly encouraged us to 'believe' and 'hope' in the idea that 'everything will work out', all those 75 minutes did was take me on an unsettling, emotional journey for no concrete reason other than to mess with the audience (the opening scene was just adding salt in the Tedbecca wound I've had since S2). Because everything in a macro sense, "worked out". But the WAY it "worked out" does not sit well with me?? And it's supposed to? For a lot of people (on Reddit/Facebook, lol), it was enough?? Richmond not technically winning and Ted leaving like that without so much as a tear? What am I missing??

When I tell you I'm trying to embrace the good parts, I'm really trying. Yes to KBPR & the women's team, Yes to Colin kissing his fella, Yes to Rebecca & Mae & the guys owning the club, Yes to Roy becoming Manager.

So... why am I still so upset? Hmm, let's see.

The boys' musical number? The cutest. Ted didn't think so.

Nate's apology? Heartbreaking. Ted didn't bat an eyelash.

Rebecca begging twice for Ted to stay? Ted, absolute silence.

Beard staying/getting married in London to his toxic gf? Comic relief, haha, fine. Except Ted wasn't there as Best Man.

Don't even get me started on the huge disservice to the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle.

Now listen, I get that he misses Henry & Henry misses his dad. I'm not that cold. A father/son's love is important. It was always the catalyst for this show; for him to work on himself so he can be a better father unlike the one he grew up with. That's fine.

But on this particular week. His last week with his Richmond family. There was NO sense of him being sad to leave them. He can be sad about missing Henry but he can ALSO be sad about leaving. No, he just completely checked out. He let everyone pour out their hearts (Hannah's getting her third Emmy, mark my words) to him, and he just stone-faced the entire time.

THIS DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME.

The argument is that he was internally processing, he was overwhelmed, he was trying to distance himself so it would hurt less. Fair points, okay. But this is a television show, moreover, A FINALE. TV characters, while relatable, are heightened versions of ourselves, there so we can better process our emotions and learn to handle things better in our real lives. Ted deserved MORE dialogue and displaying MORE emotion than whatever this was.

We're never going to see him again. We're over here crying along with Rebecca, Nate & Beard, but he didn't sob once. Even though he spent three years building a family with them. I even thought, hey at least he left his legacy with Trent's book but newsflash, he wanted his name taken off that too! Complete erasure.

I just feel so robbed of better moments. Like there were nice moments here and there. But they could've been BETTER. Honestly, Nate & Rebecca's breakdowns were close to perfection, so much love there. But the lack of dialogue and Ted not reciprocating? Broke ME.

I just cannot. understand. this. choice.

Massive sigh. I'm just truly baffled by the way everything wrapped up and not getting the satisfied feeling that one half of the viewership got. Maybe I'm in the minority, but that means something. It carries weight. Also, for a "three-season arc" that was planned well in advance, why all the rewrites and parallels and fakeouts... it's just cruel. But as the theme says (and maybe this was a warning all along), yeah, I guess this might well be it.

This show has given us so much and the last season flailed for the most part. I don't want to disrespect the show by being negative and cynical (looks like I failed!!) or cast blame on anyone in particular. The cast/crew are amazing people and I'll be grateful for being a part of the journey but I'm just so sad and this feeling sucks and I will never get over it.

Going to miss them. x

[bubuslutty]

Day 6: you wanna be the Queencard?

this is part 6, all parts

pairing: angel/demon!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.5k

tags: fluff, poor attempt at humour (help), no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: none

summary: Price notices changes + Angel invites Soap to hang out <3

a/n: special thanks to my first ever beta reader @whore4dilfs! Feedback means lots to me and gives me boosts of motivation <3 

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter/serie, means lots 💖

the title of this part is taken from this song.

Price wasn't stupid. He has eyes and can notice when people slowly start to change.

Since they have moved into the little home in London for work under Laswell’s watchful eyes, their new neighbour has been nothing but a pleasant surprise. At first, it was fun you know? Oh look, we have a hot neighbour and she’s nice! Angel would sometimes be talked about when they were having dinner, the men casually talking about how her cat almost ruined her flowers and she shouted at her. Or how last Saturday she almost tripped and fell face first when taking out the trash, or how she gets her laundry from the garden wearing nothing but a stupid t-shirt and pair of underwear.

Price is a gentleman, he tries his best not to stare, not to let his eyes linger on her when she’s out and about or greets him when he’s smoking in the garden. But she’s so fucking pretty, it’s frustrating at this point, how she manages to make his breath stutter every time he sees her. She could be wearing an old Minnie Mouse t-shirt, a pair of shorts and yellow Crocs with gardening gloves, dirty and sweating under the sun and digging up weeds and Price would always get caught staring at her, his cigar forgotten between his fingers.

He feels like a teenager all over again. He’s not a virgin for fuck sake. And he had his fair share of hookups here and there along with (failed) relationships. But he still catches himself staring at her lips when she’s laughing at something Soap said, throwing her head back and screeching with laughter. And she seems to not mind his men’s antics, either.

She doesn’t ask about their scars, doesn’t comment on Ghost's clothing choices or how he wears a mask 24/7 and never asks why she should call him Ghost either. She never asked them intrusive questions, not even when they were comfortable, bellies full of wine and warm under the sun on random afternoons. Angel hasn’t made any of his men or himself uncomfortable, not even once, and that’s terrifying because it’s so easy to get comfortable and open with her. It makes him want to talk about things he only keeps to himself. She makes him want to sit and ramble about what he’d do once he’s old and retired, maybe he’ll buy a boat, or a house up north, or move to Spain or to Morocco.

One fine Tuesday, Price was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone while Gaz was curled up next to him, reading a random webcomic on his phone when their doorbell rang.

Gaz frowned, looking up at Price, "Are we expecting someone, today?" 

"No." Price shook his head. 

"I'll get it!" Soap exclaimed, skipping 3 steps and jumping down the stairs, wearing a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts with little dog-printed socks. Initially, Soap thought it must be one of his packages that came earlier than expected, but once he opened the door he realised it wasn't the mailman but their hot neighbour. 

And she was absolutely soaked from head to toe, it was raining so hard outside that Soap accidentally got rain inside their house, wetting the floor under his feet

"I locked myself out. Can I please come in until the rain stops?" Angel asked, embarrassed and hair sticking to her neck and face. 

"Holy shit, yeah, of course!" Soap quickly moved to the side, allowing her to step inside their warm house and locked the door behind her. 

Angel stood there awkwardly, her clothes sticking to her skin as she shivered and looked at Soap with her wet eyelashes clumped together.

"What the hell happened to you?" Price said as soon as he saw her, sitting up properly.

"Got rained on, and uhm, I locked myself out," Angel said, squirming with embarrassment, her hands clutching the ends of her short skirt.

"Jesus…" He sighed and stood up, "Gaz, get her something to change into, and Soap, give her a towel and show her to the bathroom."

"You don't have to!" Angel quickly said, still dripping water next to their door, refusing to take a step in any direction. 

Price gave her an unimpressed look, "Really? You're dripping water all over the floor and you'll get sick." 

Angel pursed her lips and watched Price walk to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and preparing ginger tea for her.

Soap brought her a big towel, to wrap herself into and get to the bathroom, where Gaz handed her the smallest t-shirt he could find, a zip-up hoodie and a pair of shorts.

"I tried my best, I know none of this will fit but yeah-" Gaz mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and Angel smiled, shivering under the towel. 

"Thank you, Gaz." 

"No worries." He smiled and left her to change and dry up in the bathroom.

"Oh yeah," He stopped in his tracks and walked up to the bathroom's door, knocking twice, "Take a hot shower, you'll get warmer that way!" 

"Okay!" Angel said behind the door, wrestling with her wet skirt to pull it down.

. 

. 

. 

"Are you sure I need all of this?..." Angel asked, blowing on the mug containing the tea Price made her. 

"Angel, shut up." Price sighed, sitting next to her on the sofa. 

Angel was wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, wearing military-grade warm socks, with a warm water bottle placed behind her back and a big mug of tea in her hands. 

"Damn, alright…" Angel rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea, feeling it warm her body from the inside out.

Gaz sat down next to Price, curling up next to him and this time grabbing the remote control, looking for something to put in as background noise. 

Soap also came back down, but with Ghost this time, literally dragging him by the sleeve and making him sit down, curling next to him and throwing a leg over one of his ridiculously thick and strong thighs.

Angel noticed all of this but didn't say anything.

"So, how did ya lock yourself out?" Soap finally asked. 

"I was rushing and forgot my keys," Angel said, already annoyed at how she would need to call someone to unlock her door for her. 

"Went somewhere special? You looked nice." Soap said, making her smile. 

"Yeah, I went for coffee with a friend. And I bought a new ring!" She said and stuck out her hand to show him. 

Soap's eyes immediately sparkled with interest at the ring she showed him. Ghost glanced at him and at the silver ring she was showing him, and knew Johnny liked jewellery, especially silver.

Soap grabbed her hand and he leaned forward, "That's beautiful, where did you get it from?" 

The ring was silver with small pink and purple rocks on it, forming a little skull, obviously mimicking the tag on Kuromi's collar.

"This store is 20 minutes away from here by train! They have so many things and almost everything is unisex! I'll send you the address if you want?" Angel said, excited to be sharing something she found with him.

"I dinnae have your number though?" Soap realised. 

"Oh yeah," Angel was confused, with the number of times they've spoken and hung out, how come they don't have each other's numbers already?

"Alright, give me your number and I'll add you to our group chat so you can save their numbers as well, okay?" Soap said, taking out his phone and handing it to her. 

Angel typed in her number and saved her contact under 'Angel 👹'

When she handed him back his phone he snorted, "What type of emoji is that?"

"It's a demon!" She said with a grin and he laughed, shrugging it off.

The conversation was light and easy, they talked about random mundane things until Angel’s attention was stolen by the TV, she stared at the big screen with her mouth open and forgot to finish her sentence.

She snorted, and Gaz tilted his side to the side, “What’s up?”

“That’s you, John.” Angel pointed at the screen, where a big brown bear was napping under a tree on its back. Gaz and Soap started giggling like school girls at Price’s expression. Ghost on the other hand let out a small snort and pulled at the strings of his hoodie, trying to hide himself from his captain.

Price leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and squinting at the screen like an old man, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That’s literally exactly how you nap in the garden sometimes, and it’s cute!” Angel said, still laughing at his face.

“That’s not true, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, the sun must’ve messed up with your head.” He said, shrugging and refusing to meet her eyes.

“John, stop playing, it’s you!” Angel whined, shaking his arm and making Gaz laugh harder.

“If I’m that bear, you’re that one.” He said, pointing at the TV. Angel glanced at the TV and saw a small cub falling on its face and getting a mouthful of dirt. She gasped at his audacity, “No, I’m not!”

“I have seen you almost trip outside when taking out the trash, 3 times already.” Price teased her, looking at her with a small smirk.

“And you laugh at a lady instead of preserving her reputation? How dare you, John!” Angel said with a hand on her chest and falling back on Soap with a hand against her forehead.

“That is not a way to treat a proper lady, John. Apologise!” Soap said, lower lip dramatically wobbling and cradling her head in his arms. 

“I’ll think about it.” Price chuckled at their antics and Gaz gasped, “Oh my days, you’re actually the worst.” 

“And yet, you still love me.” Price sighed.

“Unfortunately.” Gaz rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on the Captain’s temple before standing up and walking to the kitchen, to get himself a snack.

.

.

.

“I think your clothes should be dry now,” Soap said, opening the tumble dryer’s door and watching Angel bend down to inspect her clothes.

“They are, thanks.” She grabbed the clothes and placed them on top of the dryer, closing the door with one hand.

Soap watched Angel fold her clothes in a neat pile and her skirt caught his attention. It was a pretty short brown pleated skirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to run his hand on the soft fabric. Angel stopped and stared at Soap’s entranced and focused face.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She smiled and he snapped back into reality, retrieving his hand to himself.

“What fabric is that?” He asked and Angel just stared at him, “I actually don’t know…”

“Wait, maybe it says on the tag inside.” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the skirt, flipping it inside out and frowning, when it was nowhere to be seen, “Oh shit, I must’ve removed it and forgot, sorry Soap.”

If there’s one thing Soap can tell you he likes about the woman, is that she dresses well. Her personal style is so cool and unique to him, every time she’s about to leave for work, he stops and admires her choice of clothes for the day. At first, it embarrassed him, how much he enjoys clothes and colours and fashion, but then it took years of working through internalised self-hatred for him to enjoy ‘womanly’ things without feeling like utter shit about it in the comfort of his own room. Thanks, Dad for the trauma <3

“If you want, I can try to figure out where I bought it from and buy you one? So we can match?” Angel asked, grinning and holding the skirt up in her hands.

Soap’s eyes widened a bit and he quickly spluttered, “No, you dinnae have to! Please, don’t bother.”

“You don’t like the skirt?” Angel’s smile fell.

“No, I do! It's just you dinnae have to bother buying me one, It won’t suit me.” He said, laughing and scratching his arm, no humour behind his laugh, if anything it was tainted with embarrassment and a hint of shame.

Angel’s eyes softened, “Soap, what makes you think it won’t suit you? Have you seen your thighs and tiny -excuse my language- slutty waist?”

Soap blushed bright red and barked out a laugh, “What the shite, Angel?!”

“It’s true! Don’t tell me Ghost has never told you this before?” Angel asked, tilting her head to the side.

Soap took a sharp inhale through his nose and slammed the door of the kitchen shut, “What makes you think he-”

“The man’s practically obsessed with your thighs, every time you sit next to him his hands glue themselves to them, especially when you’re wearing shorts. And I don’t even blame him, you have killer thighs. In my opinion, it’s a crime you have to wear trousers-” Angel said, waving her hands and the skirt around, and Soap almost died and closed her mouth with his palm before he could stop himself.

“Alright!”

“Hmm??” Angel hummed behind his palm, eyes wide.

“You want to buy me a skirt? Okay, just- just don’t–” Soap said, letting out a shaky breath and slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

Angel blinked up at him with big shiny eyes, feeling the borrowed shorts slowly slide down her hips. “Are you free next Wednesday?” She asked and quickly reached down the tie the short’s strings tighter to stop them from sliding down.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s play dress up at mine,” Angel said, grinning up at Soap.

“You want to-”

“Let’s hang out, and I’ll show you my jewellery collection,” Angel added with a small smirk, raising her brows.

Soap gaped at her like a fish, his mouth agape, and groaned, throwing his head back, “Fine, At what time?”

“How about 3 in the afternoon?”

“I’ll bring snacks.” Soap nodded, feeling an odd soup of excitement and anxiety brew in his stomach.

“Perfect, see you then, Soap.” Angel winked and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to place a kiss on his cheek and happily skipped out of the kitchen.

“PRICE, CAN YOU UNLOCK MY DOOR NOW, PLEASE?” He heard Angel call out in the living room and leaned against the tumble dryer, glancing down at his thighs in his shorts. He chuckled and shrugged, “I do have killer thighs.”

Outside in front of Angel’s front door, Price was squatting in front of the lock, picking at it with some tool Angel has never seen before she gasped when a small click was heard and Price pulled the doorknob down, opening it.

Price stood up and turned to her, “Here we go, now go look for those keys, to make sure they’re actually inside.”

Angel raised a brow, “Should I be worried you can unlock my doors?...” 

“No, why? Are you hiding something?” Price asked, with a hand on his hip, wearing a small smirk.

“Of course not.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leighh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @whore4dilfs

[eyelashcureuk]

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Visit here:-> https://medium.com/@eyelashcureuk/mastering-the-art-of-eyelash-extensions-a-comprehensive-guide-to-eyelash-technician-courses-in-e395afd1874f

[uramilf]

Day Nine - Snowed In

A/N: Happy wintering day everyone! Also enjoy the pic of mayhem I found on pinterest cause he’s mentioned in literally every one of these fics Warnings: SMUT

Y/N stared out the window in disbelief. There had only been a light sprinkling of snow last night, right? And now the front door wouldn’t open. Mayhem whined at the window, confused as to where his back garden had gone. “Good thing we didn’t leave you with Louis again, huh boy? I couldn’t have gone without seeing you on Christmas Eve Eve Eve!”

“Christmas Eve Eve Eve?” Matty snorted at the door. “Shut up, it’s the best way to count down to Christmas! God, what happens if this snow isn’t gone by the 24th? There’s no way we’re making it to your mum’s!” “Relax baby. It’s meant to rain tonight and warm up a bit tomorrow. It’ll be gone, I promise.” “Are you sure?” Y/N panicked. Of course the snow wasn’t her fault or something she could control, but the thought of Matty having to spend Christmas in London with her and not getting to see his family was awful.

Matty wasn’t having any of it. “You just need to let yourself relax a little bit, okay baby? Come here.” He took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head over and over until she melted into his touch. “Look, we have all day together, and now we have an excuse to not go anywhere,” he mumbled into her hair. “Why don’t you and I go back up to bed? I can help you relax, yeah?” Y/N looked up at him with a cheeky smile. “How are you planning on doing that?”

—————

Soon Matty had Y/N on her back, tongue lapping at her clit eagerly, two fingers thrusting in and out of her. “Oh fuck, baby, please,” she whined. “Please, gonna cum.” And it didn’t take long until she was cumming, grasping his hair and screaming his name. Matty never stopped looking up at her through his eyelashes.

“You gonna let me fuck you now, gorgeous?” Matty panted for breath as he moved up the bed and hovered over her with an arm either side of her head. “Yes,” she gasped out, still coming down from her previous orgasm. “You’re shivering, are you cold?” Y/N glared at Matty. “Way to ruin the mood.” “Here,” he shrugged off his hoodie leaving his top half bare, making Y/N put her arms up and putting the jumper on her instead. “Right, back to it?” he laughed. She just rolled her eyes but spread her legs again nonetheless.

Matty pushed into her slowly with a groan. “Fuck, so tight f’me baby.” Y/N cried out and pulled him down by the back of his neck into a long kiss, one in which he caught her moans in his mouth as he started to build up the speed of his thrusts. “Good girl, so pretty,” Matty panted, pressing kisses all over her face as a reward for taking him so well. “Let me hear you, baby.”

Y/N didn’t hold back, whining his name and moaning as if there weren’t people in the house next door. “That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking you, darling.” Matty smirked, whilst Y/N pretended not to hear his cocky comments. She sneaked a hand down her stomach to rub her clit gently, causing her to clench around Matty’s cock as he pounded into her.

Matty started to notice her whines raising in pitch, she was digging her nails into his shoulders harder, she was squeezing his cock harder than he thought possible. The combination could only mean she was close, and that alone almost tipped him over the edge. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Are you nearly there?” “Yes, oh fuck!” Y/N threw her head back as the knot in her stomach snapped, at the exact same time as Matty let go. She practically whimpered as she felt him fill her up, moaning quietly when he pulled out and his cum trickled down her thigh.

“Don’t let it get on the bedsheets, dickhead!” she cried. Matty just laughed. “Now who’s wrecking the mood? What did we say about relaxation, baby. If the sheets need changed, I’ll do it. Just lie down and let me give you a cuddle, yeah?” She agreed and lay back down, snuggling into his bare chest as his hoodie engulfed her.

“You’re so pretty,” Matty whispered. “I love you.” “I love you,” she whispered back, letting a hand travel up his bare back to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Mayhem scratched at the door and Matty sighed. “Maybe we don’t need kids, we don’t even like it when the dog interrupts sex.” “Because I feel bad! He shouldn’t have to hear us!” “Honestly, babe, I don’t think he gives a shit.” Matty still let Y/N put her sweats back on before letting Mayhem in (along with a fair bit of grumbling about how he wasn’t an actual child and was not going to ask any questions about sex. Y/N seemed to disagree).

It didn’t take them long to be fast asleep in each other’s arms once again, but not before Matty lay staring at her with a little smile on his face while she drifted off.

“I love you,” he whispered one more time.

[aclowntiny]

Blue Skies- Yeosang x Female!Baker!Reader

Word Count: 2,970 | Fluff | Warnings: none hehe

I have decided to do a coffee shop story for every member because why not 😌 feat. Wooyoung because I can dangit 😈

Sun filtered through the plants that dripped from window boxes, falling gently onto the crown of Yeosang’s head. He strolled gently down the sidewalk, inhaling the scent of spring breeze.

A new café had opened up around the corner from his building, so in one of the windows of free time he received he elected to check it out.

The sign and logo, which featured a blue sky dotted with pink clouds, promised the cozy atmosphere Yeosang expected and received as soon as he walked in, greeted by tables that each had a cute figurine on their center and pastel cushions on all the chairs. There were even couches to sit on and a game table with a sign that read ‘Come Play With Us 🩷’. Yeosang considered sitting there, but no one else was present to play with.

There was much that he expected about the place: open tables, a cute but hip atmosphere, the smell of cappuccino steam rising to greet him…but one thing he did not.

A figure bent serenely behind the surprisingly large bakery case, smoothing out the frosting on the most delicious-looking cake he’d ever seen with a pastry bench, eyelashes fluttering slightly as she worked. The frosting was pure white, enrobing a small round cake that was now getting striped with strawberries, and the woman had a small, calm smile on her face, which focused on placing each one just so. It was just about the most gorgeous sight Yeosang had ever seen; his heart fluttering as he approached the counter. No one else was there- would the baker be the one to take his order, too?

Apparently she would. “I’ll be right with you, sorry! Just finishing up these last few strawberries,” she told him with a small, sheepish but bright smile.

He gave her one right back. “Of course. Take your time.” Sure, the others may have his hide if he’s late for practice, but so what? It was one day. Hongjoong would live.

His eyes kept drifting between the white tile floors and the baker’s fingers deftly, but gently placing their décor around the cake, which was soon slid into the display case next to a chocolate torte and beneath a mouthwatering selection of breads and tartlets.

“D- did you make all of those?” Yeosang blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I did!” Your smile widened into a full-on grin and Yeosang thought he might have a heart attack. “I’m in charge of pastries around here! Well, and drinks right now since my co-barista is on lunch. I’m all finished with the cake now, so what can I make for you today?”

“Um…” It was at that moment that Yeosang realized he had not once looked at the menu. His mind completely blanked, floundering for a moment until… “I’ve never been here, what do you recommend?” Nailed it.

"Well, I suppose that depends on if you like coffee or not. If you don't, my favorite is the London Fog latte, which is earl grey tea with vanilla. If you do, the lavender latte is our specialty and that one is really good too! Very pretty!"

Just like you, Yeosang thought. "Well then, I'd like to try that, please," he actually said, shyly nodding his head as she tapped a few register keys.

"Were you going to be staying here or taking it on the go?"

"Ah," Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I would love to stay but I should take it on the go."

"No problem! Your name?"

"Yeosang."

"What a nice name! I'll have that ready for you soon."

She was that nice to everyone. She had to be.

Yeosang thanked her, taking a seat at a table with a doraemon figurine winking at him. Cute. He didn't want to stare at the baker, whose name tag read (y/n), but his eyes had minds of their own, drifting constantly back over to the humming baker-barista. Eventually, he applied the three rule, counting to three before looking away so he never stared too long.

He was so focused on counting threes that he barely heard his name, practically jumping as (y/n) called him a second time.

"I hope you enjoy your latte, Yeosang!"

His heart flipped. He looked between his to-go cup, topped with lavender-tinted steamed milk poured in a heart shape, (y/n)'s beautiful smile, & that tantalizing bakery case.

"Er, before I go, how much is the cake?"

~

Just as Yeosang suspected, the boys were placated by free food.

"This is the best cake I've ever had," Mingi sighed, "where did you say you got this again?"

"The new café around the corner. The baker was really nice. She was finishing it up as I came in."

"If she bakes that good," the tall rapper continued, "I wanna marry her."

"She made my drink, too. That was really good. I really liked the atmosphere in there and she was very nice. Really makes you feel welcome."

"Watch out, Mingi, I think Yeosang is going to marry her," Wooyoung teased, sliding over the shining studio floor to claim a cake slice of his own.

Warmth flooded the singer's cheeks. "All I said was I liked Blue Skies."

"Whatever. Keep sweet-talking her and see if you can get some of this for free, huh?" Wooyoung suggested, elbowing Yeosang in the ribs.

"I might go back. I heard the London Fog is good there."

~

"Uh, oh, someone's baking a love cake!"

Placing the fat piping bag of green icing you'd held back onto the silver decorating table, you cocked a brow at your co-barista, Hakyeon. "Excuse me?"

"Look at you, piping little frogs holding hands on top of your cake. You and who?"

"Maybe I'm trying to get you a girlfriend," you teased, grinning and giggling at the way the tall man crossed his arms at you.

"No way, you're too happy to care that I'm single. What happened?"

Hakyeon stared at you, dark eyes boring into your soul in an attempt at a withering gaze that just made him look like an overgrown kitten. You couldn't take him seriously, bursting out with a laugh.

"See? I knew it."

"Ok, fine, a really cute guy came in yesterday and got a drink and a cake and I'm hoping he comes back and thinks the frog one is cute and maybe, just maybe, I can figure out who he bought a whole entire cake for the first time, especially if he wants a romantic cake."

Hakyeon blinked, stare melting into amusement. "Wow, that's an extremely elaborate substitute for just asking the guy out."

"He's a customer, I can't just-"

A wave of annoyingly well-manicured tan hands. "Yeah, yeah. What's this guy's name, anyway?"

You blushed. "Do I have to tell you everything?"

"I want to know who he is so I can tell if he's an axe murderer or not."

"Fine, his name is Yeosang, and he-"

Ding!

The bell hanging at your door chimed, sending you scrambling to finish your cake's green lattice sides and Hakyeon sauntering to the counter. Before he reached it, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "When I'm working, I want you sitting at the game table."

"But I have to work-"

"Just do it."

"Only if I'm not working on something. I can't leave stuff in the oven to burn, you know."

A familiar deep voice interrupted your banter, though, sending a happy little shock through your chest. Yeosang was back. And ordering a London Fog, which you remembered mentioning as one of your favorites. You peered at him through your lashes, blushing and practically throwing the frog couple cake into the glass to free up a hand when you saw him wave at you.

"Hi (y/n)," he said softly.

"Hi! Sounds like you're trying tea today?"

He nodded. "You said it was your favorite right? Then I had to try it." Pointing at the display, he let his gaze fall to your latest creation. "That's a cute cake. Did someone order it?"

"No," you shook your head, "I just thought it would be cute if any couples or people with significant others came in."

"I'm sure they'll love it. Could I get some jjinppang today? The guys in my group really loved your cake, too, but I can't spoil them too much."

Suppressing a grin at the evidence your frog cake totally provided you with, thank you very much Hakyeon, you obliged.

Yeosang left, London Fog gripped cutely in both hands as he sighed in curling clouds of steam, and Hakyeon immediately whipped his head your way, chuckling at your own sigh.

"Sheesh, no wonder. Guy must be a model or something. You. Tomorrow. Game table."

All you could do was smile, blush, and shake your head.

~

True to your-well, Hakyeon's- word, you placed yourself next to the ‘Come Play With Us 🩷’ sign, legs crossed, chin resting in hand, and latte coastered at your side, casually taking a sip as Yeosang walked in again.

“No cake today?”

"I did a sort of plain German chocolate today and decorate-your-own cookies, so I finished early. Wanna play a game?"

He did indeed, challenging you to a really cute cat café-themed dice game, totally creaming you AKA collecting more cats, and icing a decorate-your-own cookie because quote 'the members were being annoying today, so no free food for them'. He drew the cutest little character on his, shocking you when you discovered it was his own creation.

"I wanna put him on a cake!"

"Go ahead," he said with a smile.

Feeling guilty for shirking helping the other Blue Skies customers who ordered pastries, you glanced up at Hakyeon, who simply gave you a cheeky grin and wave. Rolling your eyes, you returned your gaze to Yeosang, who challenged you to a quick card game before he went back to work.

You won, so he claimed he needed to come back to Blue Skies for a rematch. "I- if you're ok with that."

"Of course," you giggled.

~

"'Favorite game buddy?' Dude, she's totally flirting with you."

"She's nice to every customer. You should have seen the way she laughed and clapped for another person's joke."

"Yeah, but did she draw a hehetmon with a heart on their drink?" Wooyoung asked, hand on his hip.

"She drew a heart in the foam of my first drink last week," Yeosang shot back, making Wooyoung want to take him by the shoulders and shake the forever-singleness out of his handsome friend, "that's, like, the most common latte art there is?"

The worst part was, Yeosang looked genuinely confused by Wooyoung's insinuations. The man was too pure for his own good. That was ok, though. If he wanted to be an angel, Wooyoung was more than happy to play the devil role.

~

"I don't know why you suddenly want to come to Blue Skies with me," Yeosang questioned with a furrowed brow, long black hair falling onto his forehead, "I've been going for, like, two weeks now."

Because you don't know how to make a move, that's why. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, faintly obscuring the sun as a breeze ruffled through the planter boxes. The weather wasn't quite as sunny-go-lucky as it had been, as if even the sky knew a scheme was brewing.

"Well, if the lovely, very kind baker isn't flirting with you, then maybe I want some," Wooyoung replied with a wide grin.

"What?" If looks could kill, oh boy would Wooyoung be six feet under. It was like his friend had been taking lessons from Hongjoong or something.

Plans were plans, though. "Why not? She sounds great."

"She's not your type," Yeosang replied a little too quickly, pushing his stray bangs back out of his dark stare.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that," Wooyoung said sweetly as he pushed open the door, head swaying a bit with the tinkling of the cute little bell.

There was a girl behind the counter expertly pouring mirror glaze over some petit fours. She was cute, but definitely not Wooyoung's type. Even better.

"Well hello there," he called out charmingly as the girl smiled and waved, clearly over the moon to see Yeosang.

"Hi! Are you one of the guys from the group Yeosang told me about?"

"Yes, and you must be the baker who made that excellent cake, but I had no idea you were so beautiful," he complimented (y/n), leaning on the counter where she took up her spot by the register.

It took all his willpower to suppress the grin that rose to his face as his whole body was wracked by a hard elbowing and then some to ignore the whisper of "don't be a creep".

"Well, thank you," (y/n) smiled, but her gaze still fluttered back to Yeosang. Oh yeah. Wooyoung could just see the pleading in her eyes. She didn't want this from him.

"I hear you make great lattes, too, which I don't doubt. What do you recommend for someone like me, hm?"

"Weren't you just wanting to get an Americano like usual?" Yeosang cut him off, glancing just as pleadingly at (y/n), who kept up an impressive customer-service poker smile.

"I can do that. If you like it sweet, we do a really good brown sugar one."

Wooyoung fiddled with his collar. "Oh, I do like it sweet."

(y/n) laughed, but it was clearly strained, and her whole body practically melted in relief when Yeosang gave him an 'I don't know this man' glance and ordered a latte extra politely, no rush thank you so much (y/n), practically batting his eyelashes at her.

"Maybe we can have our next cat café match next time, huh?" Emphasis on our.

She didn't look up, but (y/n) accidentally delivered a killing blow. Wooyoung choked back a laugh, disguising it as a cough because holy crap, Yeosang was not going to take that correctly.

"Oh, is Wooyoung not going to be a regular, too?"

"No, I think he's just visiting for now, aren't you?"

Wooyoung flipped his hair back, coyly focusing on studying the Badtz-Maru figurine on the table. "You never know."

"I see," said (y/n), "good to know."

Yeosang's gaze darted between (y/n) and his friend, expression falling into one of defeat. His shining eyes were hard to watch, and in any other situation Wooyoung would have grabbed his hand and given him a hug. But that hug was going to have to wait, as (y/n) was making her way over with their drinks. From what Wooyoung gathered, she didn't usually personally deliver what she made.

She didn't even meet his eyes when she reached the table, looking only between Yeosang and the drink she placed in front of him. Yeosang looked up at her, dumbfounded, as she folded her hands behind her back, dawdling at their table.

She'd drawn a hehetmon on each drink, completely ignoring the fact that Americanos didn't even have milk just so she could splash enough on there to make one stick his tongue out at Wooyoung.

"No heart," he very loudly whispered, giving his dear friend a coy look.

Meanwhile and in stark contrast, atop the other cup, hehetmon peered up at Yeosang with a wide smile and a speech bubble that read 'date?'

Wooyoung had the pleasure of watching years melt off Yeosang's face as his sad puppy look morphed back to pure shock and adoration, a finger pointing at his chest.

"Yes," (y/n) said softly, "you."

"Well," palming the sides of the table, Wooyoung stood up, satisfaction fully lighting his face, "if you'll excuse me, I need to go look for a pastry to get for my brother."

~

Yeosang's heart melted at the way you looked at him. Him, not the confident flirt that was his most annoying best friend, the guy who was too scared to ask you out.

He couldn't believe such a beautiful girl, someone as kind and talented at making sweet, lovely things, wanted to go on a date with him, but he would thank every cloud in the sky if he had to that you did. As long as you weren't just trying to scare Wooyoung off.

"Really? I mean, yeah, I-"

"Good. Then tell your friend there I'm not interested in him, just in my usual sweet regular," (y/n) replied, voice and smile as kind and honeyed as ever, "ok?"

"You are? You really are?" He asked, dreamy smile involuntarily widening.

You simply nodded, smiling that serene smile you always had on when you frosted a particularly pretty cake. "Of course I am. How could I not be when you've been nothing but kind and fun, huh? You can tell your buddy I said that, too!"

"I will. I'll tell everyone," Yeosang replied before he could stop himself.

Your eyes shone, that beautiful color pulling Yeosang in even more. "I like the sound of that."

~

You made your way back to the counter, swinging open the little door and stepping back into the kitchen by the pastry case, where Yeosang's friend wandered back and forth, eyes flicking up to meet yours. When he saw you, he grinned sheepishly, pulling out a wad of bills and slinking over to the tip jar, where he dropped them in.

"For putting up with me and finally, for the love of God, getting him that date."

"You're terrible."

"Funny thing, I hear that a lot."

"But thank you," you added, shaking your head in exasperated mirth, "I needed the excuse to not be as creepy as, well you. For a date, and only if you promise to never do that again, I'll give you one of whatever you were looking at on the house."

"I thought you'd never ask."

[dianakc]

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Fandom: North and South

This is a post marriage fic and follows on from my story called Second Chances, although it also reads as a one shot.

Just before posting this, I realised that I've used a similar beginning in another epilogue, although the content is different. (Note to self: Be more original next time). Or, perhaps this could turn into a series of fics where Margaret disturbs John in bed! Who knows?

April 1856

“John? May I ask you something?” Margaret whispered.

     “Hmmm,” he replied, the sound coming out as a mixture of a deep rumbling hum and a grunt of satisfaction. She had caught him just on the cusp of sleep. Nevertheless, his hand tightened briefly upon hers, as it always did when she said his name. It was still such a delight.

     “You’re not too tired?”

     “Hmmm.”

     “Do you think my bottom is too big?”

     There was a pause as John regained his senses from the fog of slumber, his brow furrowing and eyelashes fluttering open. He was perplexed both at her question and how to answer her. For a moment, he wondered if he’d heard her correctly or if he’d been dreaming.

     “Too big for what?” he asked, somewhat nonplussed, his voice husky with sleep.

     Margaret hesitated. She’d had the courage to broach the subject when she knew John was almost asleep, hoping for simply a perfunctory assurance that he wasn’t unhappy with her appearance. Of course, she should have known better; John did nothing by halves. “Not too big for anything exactly … more, too big to be considered attractive.”

     John was fully awake now. “You don’t think your bottom is … appealing?”

     “Do you?” she parried, with a sharpness to her voice caused by her self-inflicted embarrassment.

     John shifted onto his side to face her; the crisp new bed sheets rustled as he moved, and the cast iron bed frame squeaked. Despite the semi-darkness of the room he could see her features quite clearly, illuminated by the mellow light of the moon beyond their drawn curtains. Her eyes were open but she was staring at the ceiling. 

     “I can’t say I’ve given it much thought,” he said.

     “Really? You haven’t looked at it? Surely you must have.”

     “Have a heart, Margaret. It’s only been four days. Four nights. Suffice to say that I have thus far been concentrating on the front of you,” he said with a smirk, trying to make her laugh.

     “Four days … nights … when we have spent a good degree of our time together unclothed,” she replied wryly, and she turned her apprehensive gaze towards him.

     John reflected on her choice of word. ‘Unclothed’. Not naked or bare, but ‘unclothed’. He judged it to be a gentlewoman’s word. Getting to know Margaret – to really know her – was like peeling off the layers of gentility that had been fashioned over time during her formative years in London, first as a girl and then as a young woman. Of course, they were still very newly wed, and even though John loved her to his very core, he was happiest when he and Margaret were equals, and not when he still felt undeserving of her, or society expected her to be subservient to him. They were getting there – reaching their mutual level – and times like this, simply lying together holding hands, they were the closest, most natural, that they had become.

     “Come on then, I’ll light the lamp. Roll over and let me have a look,” he said, teasing her with his saucy suggestion and drawing an indignant squeal from Margaret. “I promise to take great care in giving the question my full and most diligent observation.” He made as if to help to turn her over, though his hold upon her was in no way firm enough to carry out his proposal. He could easily overpower her if he wished, but it was not in his heart or mind to make her do something – anything – that she did not agree to. In fact, that aspect of John’s character was one of things she loved most about him; that he gave her a measure of control that she had previously never been afforded. But now their skylarking caused Margaret to shriek and giggle and squirm in opposition, playfully batting him off her and tangling them in their newly initialled bedding. For a moment, while John laughed along with her, he wondered at the thickness of the walls in their little Crampton home. Josephine, their soon to be live-in maid, was still at the local boarding house so that the new Mr and Mrs John Thornton enjoyed their first week of married life alone; not to be disturbed by the maid, nor for her to be disturbed by them. But he did wonder if the neighbours might speculate upon what they were up to with the various noises that must emanate from their bedroom. Then again, perhaps not.

     Soft thumping from the corner of the room interrupted his train of thought, as Bertie’s wagging tail rhythmically pounded upon the floor signalling his wish to join in with the game. Bertie had always shared a room with either John or Margaret throughout his life, from as early as the night of his birth. Having both his master and mistress in the bedroom at the same time had been something of a novelty to the young dog. Indeed, he hadn’t quite understood why he wasn’t allowed to frolic with them and share in the fun they were having. 

     “Lie down, Bertie. Good boy,” John said, still amused and slightly breathless from his light-hearted mischief with Margaret. Bertie lay back down upon his blanket, muzzle resting upon his paws.

     On John and Margaret’s first night together as man and wife, neither one of them had regarded Bertie to be a problem as the three of them retired for the evening. But the difference in routine caused Bertie to be alert and curious about what was happening upon the bed. 

     “He’ll have to go in the kitchen if he keeps watching, Margaret,” John had said with consternation, that first night. “It’s off putting to say the least,” he’d said, running an exasperated hand through his hair. Margaret had sniggered, trying with all her might to keep her laughter in check. She was quite sure that John wouldn’t see the funny side. She could read her husband quite well having spent some considerable time with him over the previous few months, and earlier, when she had finally realised her true feelings for him. She knew that when he was anxious or shy he would put up the barrier of his stern gruff exterior. 

     “He’s a dog, John. He won’t be scrutinising your every move. In times past we might have had our families and town dignitaries standing at the foot of the bed to ensure that all was done properly. Imagine having your mother here,” she’d said, sucking in her lips to stifle her giggle, while John let out a horrified groan and flopped dejectedly onto his back. 

     Not one to admit defeat too soon, John had got up and crouched next to Bertie and tried explaining that it was playtime for only him and Margaret, which had prompted both raised eyebrows and a stifled snort from Margaret as she repeated, “Playtime?” In the end John had persuaded Bertie to lie down and, as he had no use for it himself, he had covered the dog and his prying eyes with his nightshirt. Intelligent as he was, Bertie soon learnt that he must stay on his bed, and the following nights he had settled quickly, understanding the new routine.

     Ignoring Bertie’s interruption, John brought his mind back to the present time. “What’s brought this on?” he asked, more seriously now, brushing Margaret’s cheek affectionately with his fingertips. He was worried that he’d not complimented her enough, and he regretted they had not had the opportunity to go on a wedding trip, when he could have lavished his attention upon her. Instead, he had felt the need to go to Marlborough Mills each day, having only had the day of their marriage off work. It was an important time for his business as Margaret’s investment meant the mill was once again a viable concern, but it was too soon since its resurgence to leave it unattended. He had been sure that Margaret was happy to postpone their honeymoon – she had been firm in her agreement – but now he wondered if it had been a mistake. Perhaps he could have taken the time off if he’d really tried.

     Edwin Bailey was overseeing the demolition of Marlborough House to make way for the new printing shed, and the young man was more than capable of managing without John’s support. Even when the fortunes of the mill were on a financial knife edge he had left Williams, his mother and Higgins in charge for several days. He had travelled to and from London on several days, rebuilding his relationship with Margaret after Lennox’s deception had kept them apart. Of course, now that his mother lived at Hayleigh, she was no longer on hand to help, and it was unlikely she would be in the future either. John was glad that she hadn’t been there for the past few days. He knew she would have found it hard to see the home that she had been so proud of raised to the ground. John was in no doubt that she would have been mortified as the demolition gradually exposed the interior of the house to those gawping in the mill yard, giving them a view of the inside of each room, wallpaper and all, as the walls slowly but surely came down. He had to admit that he found it mildly embarrassing himself, and it might have been a blessing to be absent while the destruction took place. He supposed he could have left the mill for a few days to spend them with Margaret. Still, it was too late now. The decision had been made, and the first week of their marriage was more than half over, and if Margaret’s topic of conversation was anything to go by, he had already been remiss in his attentiveness towards her.

     “It’s nothing really. I just wondered, that’s all,” Margaret said, as she fiddled with the sheet that was bunched up between them, idly stroking their embroidered entwined initials upon the cotton. “Fanny visited today, and she had quite a dreadful tale to tell. Perhaps you’ve heard the story? About a writer and art historian called Mr Ruskin and his wife Euphemia, a lady previously known as Effie Gray?”

     John said he hadn’t, and at first he was taken by surprise at Margaret’s sudden change of subject. He quashed the irritation that flared within him as realisation dawned that Fanny had caused Margaret a measure of distress. The two women had become firm friends since Margaret had moved back to Milton, especially as she had lived with the Watsons up until the wedding. He was sure that Fanny wouldn’t have upset Margaret knowingly, but her taste for gossip had clearly caused some disquiet with his wife. 

     He settled down to listen to Margaret. They faced one another now, lying on their sides curled up with their knees touching, and their fingers loosely interlaced. When their bed had simply been his, as a bachelor, it had felt abnormally empty. He'd never noticed the springs creaking so much either, and he’d made a mental note to fetch some oil to improve matters. But now he shared it with Margaret, the bed appeared to have become a lot smaller, and a lot warmer. He had thought that falling asleep with Margaret enfolded in his arms would have been heaven, but in reality they both became too hot after a little while in close proximity, and had settled for holding hands when they went to sleep. He was forever in contact with a part of her, whether it be her hands, arms, feet, or even her hair. He hadn’t been surprised that she wore her hair in a plait, which was thick and glossy like a heavy silken rope that slithered through his hands. He knew that Fanny and his mother braided their hair at bedtime, though his mother also wore a cap to bed. John was pleased that Margaret didn’t do that, at least not yet.

     Margaret recounted to him the strange tale that had been at the forefront of her mind. It had come to light that Mr Ruskin’s wife of five years had had their marriage annulled on the grounds that they had never had marital relations and consummated their wedding vows. “They had agreed to abstain for that period of time because he was busy with his studies,” she explained.

     “Bloody hell,” John muttered under his breath. “Apologies for my language, Margaret, but that’s absurd. The population of Milton would die out if folk didn’t … have relations … just because they were busy.”

     Although that part of the story was shocking enough, what was worse was that it was reported that an additional reason was not, as John had immediately thought, that Mrs Ruskin was an unwilling participant after a five year period of abstinence, but that Mr Ruskin had found aspects of his now former wife to be abhorrent.

     “What kind of things?” asked John, both perturbed but also truly interested in the sorry tale.

     Margaret's eyes met her husband’s clear blue stare, which still dazzled even in the dim light of the bedroom. She swallowed. It was, of course, her own fault for bringing it up, so she forged on. “It is said that he found her body hair repulsive,” she began, her eyes flickering away from his as she gave the most personal details, “and also her … menses.” Margaret knew she must be bright red; her cheeks felt to be on fire.

     “How peculiar,” said John, with genuine surprise.

     “You are familiar with … the condition?” Margaret asked tentatively. It wasn’t long before her own monthly was due to start and she took the opportunity to find out if John shared Mr Ruskin’s feelings.

     “Of course. I have lived my life with two women, Margaret. And not forgetting, I have over a hundred women in my employ. I’d have to be senseless not to be aware of it. I don’t know the details exactly, and I would welcome your guidance on the subject, but it’s a natural thing is it not? Normal?”

     Margaret nodded.

     “My rudimentary understanding is that it is necessary for conceiving. Is that so?” he asked.

     Margaret nodded again, now able to look at him.

     “Well then. It's a good thing, surely?” he said.

     Margaret smiled softly at her husband and squeezed his hand. Why had she ever entertained the shred of a thought that he would think otherwise. He was such a conundrum. His natural shyness, which often manifested as a severe and prickly demeanour, had been tested quite often after Bertie’s birth, and John had overcome the hurdles of embarrassment for Bertie … for her. And yet at other times, when she expected him to be bashful, he took it in his stride.

     John was still pondering the sordid tale of the Ruskins. “I think, perhaps, a strong case with great detail is required for the law and church to dissolve a marriage. Especially after such a long period of time. The most troubling concern for me is that the criticism is directed at Miss Gray, where it appears that the deficiency is with Mr Ruskin. Surely the faults attributed to her are not faults at all. Perhaps there is more that we don’t know? Maybe it was a marriage arrangement that didn’t turn into love? Nevertheless, it seems to me that the gentlemanly thing would be for Ruskin to take the blame and not expose his wife to such humiliation. I am sorry for the lady. I hope she finds happiness and a more deserving husband.” 

     Margaret’s heart swelled a little more for this man, her husband, who reasoned carefully and with compassion. “I believe she has. Or at least she has married again; an artist by the name of Millais. I suppose we shall never know whether he is a good husband to her or not.”   

     They lay in silence for a moment or two, as John pieced together Margaret’s question about her figure and the rift between the Ruskins, then Margaret spoke again. “Did you never wonder what I looked like … unclothed?” she asked him.

     “Not really,” he mused, giving her question due thought. “Don’t misunderstand me. I always knew you to be the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,” he quickly added, “but I think I was more preoccupied with you reciprocating my feelings, or rather the fact that you didn’t. Though I will admit to daydreaming about your arms encircled around my neck, as they were that day of the riot. But these are superficial things. Your looks are secondary,” he said leaning forwards and laying a soft kiss upon her lips. “I couldn’t care less whether your bottom is half the size or twice the size,” he said, bringing her fingertips to his lips. Margaret looked at him sceptically. 

     Realising he hadn’t allayed her fears he went on. “If I am not mistaken, your hearing of Miss Gray’s story made you wonder if I found you unattractive in some way?” He grasped her hand tighter, dismayed that she might think his love could be influenced by such inconsequential considerations. “You must know that my feelings for you, and those of Mr Ruskin for his wife couldn’t be less similar. Have I not shown you the depth of my love? Have I not worshipped you? Annulment won’t be an option, should you grow tired of me.” He leaned forward and kissed her smiling lips. “Besides, I’m certainly not the model physical specimen. My worst feature is on view for all to see, and yet you still love me.”

     “Whatever do you mean?” Margaret asked.

     “You know as well as I do that my nose is too big,” he said, a little sheepishly. 

     “Nonsense. Your nose is just right. I love your nose,” she said, stroking her finger along his profile.

     “My nose is very fond of you too,” he said with a playful smirk. His ego encouraged him to attempt to draw further flattery from her. “I wonder if the reason you believed that I studied your figure was because you were thinking of mine?”

    Margaret knew what he was up to, fishing for compliments, but she was happy to play along. She adored this gentle banter that had so soon become a part of their private time together. “I did … do … like your arms.”

     “My arms!” he exclaimed with marked dismay, which wasn’t completely for effect.

     Margaret giggled at his disappointment. “I saw them at the mill a time or two when Bertie and I visited. I thought they looked … manly,” she explained.

     “Manly,” he repeated quietly. “Well if I’d known my arms were attractive to you, I might have hefted more bales of cotton and left my shirt sleeves rolled up a sight more often too. I might even have gone so far as to strip my shirt off altogether and parade around the mill yard half naked if I’d thought it might have helped to win you,” he joked, drawing further giggles from her. 

     A muffled snuffling from the corner of the room distracted them and John looked over to Bertie who was asleep now in his bed, his paws twitching as he chased ducks along an imaginary towpath in his sleep. John’s tone became more sombre for a moment as his memory took him back to that dark January evening the year before. “You held onto my arm the night that Bertie was born … the night that marked the change of the course of our lives. Do you remember?" 

     Margaret nodded as she thought back to that terrible episode. It had been John who had been there to help her, and he had continued to be her support ever since.

     John grinned wolfishly, lightening the mood again. "Here was I, being as close to a gentleman as I could manage, and you were spying on my ‘manly’ arms,” he teased. “Anything else you wish to admit?”

     Margaret deemed her husband to be a strikingly handsome man, indeed she suspected it was only John who didn’t think of himself so. She could feel her innate yearning for him building as they lay there together sharing their thoughts, touches and kisses, and she wondered at her ability to spark a similar feeling in him. She dared herself to encourage him. “Very well, I did think about your body. I wondered if you had the lines that I’d seen on sculptures.”

      “Lines?”

     Margaret gently pushed John onto his back and slowly, deliberately, pulled the sheet down his torso. “Here,” she said as she trailed a path lightly down his stomach, made lean by both his natural build and toned by his physical work. She ran her fingertips over his lower abdomen, defining Apollo’s belt.

     John watched her looking at him, at his body, and he felt himself stir as her skin brushed his. Suddenly all thoughts of teasing had faded to mere shadows. 

     Margaret looked into his eyes, seeing the craving there. It was a hunger that matched her own and she felt heady with the realisation that her mere touch could inflame him so readily.

    John tugged her arm lightly, testing to see if she would be pulled on top of him, and she yielded, moving to straddle his waist. She leaned down and kissed him and her plait hung forwards over her shoulder, coiling on his chest. She sat up again, and John ran his hands up the soft skin of her arms to her shoulders then down her back, making her arch and push against him, and then to her rear. He thought for a moment how he’d like to see her just so, but with her hair loose about her shoulders. He thought it might reach as far as her waist. Perhaps next time. There was no rush, after all, they had the rest of their married lives ahead of them.

     John held her bottom to steady her as she shifted upon him, and he realised that it fit exquisitely in his palms. But rational thought was slipping away, and he was being overwhelmed by feelings, by sensations so all consuming that they were too irresistible to deny. He must remember to tell her, after, when she would know it wasn’t simply desire talking. He would tell her that she was perfect. Because to John, she unquestionably was.

The rest of my stories are on tumblr or at the link above.

[sneakyblinders]

The Honorable Gangster

A/N: another installment of the courting series of the tommy and his darling wife!au. aka tommy x ofc (bee). this one takes place directly after Under the London Lamp Posts. Tommy is the hero in this one. PLEASE heed the warnings. warnings: language, non-consensual kissing & sexual motives, violence, fighting, blood, not canon, with a happy ending & fluff sprinkled in at the end. sexual themes. 18+. You are responsible for your media consumption! Please do not proceed if you are uncomfortable or if any of the above mentioned warnings will upset you. 5.7k words. I take no credit for the gif! text dividers are from @cottage-writings and I take no credit for those either!

1919

Bee had walked with her head in the clouds for the next few days. When Thomas Shelby had dropped her off at her front door, he’d kissed her hand and asked her to write her phone number down so he could call her. He said he’d call her the next time he was coming to London. 

He looked at her through his thick, dark eyelashes and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles, eyes never leaving hers. “Goodnight, Gorgeous,” he told her, smirking to himself when he noticed her go weak in the knees. 

“Goodnight, Thomas,” she said airily, unlocking her front door. 

He smirked as she shut the door. When she was safely behind her door, she pressed her back to the door and slid down to the floor, a lovestruck expression on her face. 

Betty raced down the hall from her room once she’d heard the door shut. “Well?” she squealed. 

“Oh he’s perfect,” Bee said dreamily, legs sprawled out in front of her. 

She could hear his heavy footsteps getting farther and farther away as he walked down the hallway and out the doors. Her heart became heavy. A sense of loneliness she’d never felt before descending on her. 

“Did he kiss you?” Betty asked. 

“No!” Bee exclaimed, cheeks flushing. 

“Oh come on,” Betty rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “A man like that is bound to kiss you, so get ready for your first kiss, Missy.” 

Bee’s heart quickened. She knew it was true. “He was in the War,” she said, a faraway tone to her voice.

“Heavens, Bee, how old is he?” Betty asked, eyes widening. 

“Oh, I think twenty-nine or so?”

Betty chuckled. “Holy hell you’re in for it.” 

Bee stood up, walking towards her room. “What do you mean?” she asked, kicking her shoes off. 

“A man like that will know what he wants, and will take it and make you love him for it.” 

Her stomach did a little flutter. “He was a perfect gentleman.” 

“Of course he was! I am just saying to be ready to be with a man.” 

“I’m tired, Betty. I’m going to bed.” Bee said dismissively, annoyed that her friend couldn’t let her divulge the information she so badly wanted to without sounding jealous.

On Sundays, Bee’s family had a family dinner. Her siblings gather with her parents and grandfather for dinner, around her mothers dining room table. It was their opportunity to catch up with one another, not allow too much distance despite them all living their own separate lives. 

After dinner, her father and mother asked to speak to her. “Bee, Darling, a young man has come to see us about courting you,” her mother said, a sparkle in her eyes. 

Bee’s eyes lit up–Thomas! How had he found them? She didn’t care, she only cared that he was wishing to court her! 

“His name is Jonathan Sayer,” her father continued, and her face fell downcast. “He is a banker here in London, he comes from a good family, and he’d make an excellent husband, Bee. He will be coming to Grandfather’s birthday party next week so you can meet him.” 

“I–I can’t do that,” she said softly, heart cracking in her chest. 

“Why not?” her father chuckled. 

“I–I met someone last week,” she said softly, not meeting her parents' gaze. 

“Bee, Darling, I’m sure whoever you met was a fine individual but Jonathan will make a fine match.” Her father continued, waving her off. 

Bee looked to her mother, who gave her a sympathetic look. 

Before she left her parents flat that evening, her mother caught her by the arm. “Bee, Darling,” she said. “If this other young man has caught your heart, listen to it. Our family marries for love.” 

That night, Tommy called her. “Hello?” She answered the phone. 

“Hello, Gorgeous,” that velvety voice said on the other end. 

“Thomas,” she said softly, leaning against the wall. 

“How are you today?” he asked, fingers drumming on his desk. 

“I’m okay,” she said, sighing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting forward in his chair, elbows on his desk. 

“My–my father has told me I have a suitor.” 

The other end of the line went quiet. All Bee could hear was her heartbeat in her chest. “What do you have to say about it?” he asked, clearing his throat. She could hear his seat squeak as he adjusted his posture. 

“I would rather be with you,” she blurted out. She shut her eyes immediately. Stupid girl, why did you say that? 

He smiled. “When can I see you?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet this suitor on Friday night,” she groaned. She was scheduled to work at the book shop for the next few nights. “At my grandfather’s birthday party.” 

“I’ll come then,” he said simply, taking a sip of whiskey. 

“You can’t do that!” she said standing up a little straighter. 

“Why not?” he asked. “They won’t notice an extra man there, surely.” 

“They would if he looks like you do,” she says, her face scrunching after the words left her mouth. 

Tommy smirks on the other end of the phone, licking his lips. “I’m not sure if that’s meant to offend or flatter me, Gorgeous,” he flirted. 

“Flatter. Definitely flatter,” she told him quickly. 

“Where is the party at?” he asked, holding back a laugh. She blurted out the details, for once, not thinking of the consequences. “I’ll be there, Darling. Sleep well. Dream of me,” he flirted. 

“Only if you dream of me,” she told him. 

“You haven’t left my mind for one moment,” he told her. 

Butterflies filled her belly. “Goodnight, Thomas.” 

“Goodnight, Gorgeous.” 

Friday night came and Bee nervously dressed in her favorite light purple dress. Her father gathered everyone up in the family car and drove them to the countryside, to her grandfather's estate. Her stomach was in knots, thinking of Jonathan–of Thomas. 

Cocktail hour was in full swing, the music loud, the guests louder. Mr. Sutton brought Jonathan to Bee. “Darling Daughter, may I introduce Mr. Jonathan Sayer.” 

He was handsome enough. Blond hair and light brown eyes, but a scowl so deeply set in his features, she couldn’t shake his coldness. His features paled in comparison to Tommy. “Miss Sutton,” he said, bowing slightly to her, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Pleasure,” she said, smiling awkwardly at him. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” her father said, smiling awkwardly at the two of them. 

They stood awkwardly before Jonathan blurted out, “My mother intends to marry us soon, something about a good dowry, so we better get the formalities out of the way. I think you’re pretty enough and you look brighter than how you speak. I overheard a few other conversations with your aunts, I think it was. That can be changed with some good literature and not those ridiculous romance books I’m sure you find wonderful,” tears stung at her eyes. “You’re a little too thin for my taste, however,” he says, looking her up and down. She felt herself shrinking. “So eat plenty in the coming months. If everything goes to plan we’ll be on our honeymoon in six months.”

“Excuse me, please, I need a drink,” she says, excusing herself to the drink table. 

To her disgust, he followed her. “Allow me,” he said, taking the glass from her hand and pouring her a glass of water. “Now drink it so we can dance.” 

She eyed him warily, swallowing down her glass. He took it from her hands and set it on a tray a waiter was carrying, bringing her to the dance floor. 

His hand didn’t quite fit well in hers–his fingers were too slender, palms too small. She felt clammy as he pressed his body against hers, whirring her around the dance floor so quickly her head spun. He stepped on her feet a few times, and nearly ran her into another couple.  

What felt like an eternity later, a man who Bee couldn’t make out for her dizziness, tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. “May I cut in?” the thick, velvet Birmingham accent. Her vision was still spinning as Jonathan released her reluctantly. 

“She’s a terrible partner, good luck, mate,” Jonathan said. 

She felt Tommy’s strong arm around her back, his hand taking a hold of hers. His hands were warm, the rest of him ice cold. “Hello, Gorgeous,” he said in her ear, his lips dangerously close to the shell of her ear. He inhaled her perfume and nearly moaned, loving her scent, her body pressed against his. 

“Thomas,” she breathed, a smile on her face. “You came.” 

“Of course I did. I am a man of my word,” he told her. The song turned slow and he gently changed his pace. “Especially to a beautiful lady.” 

She blushed, a bashful smile on her lips. “You look handsome tonight.” 

And he did. He wore a white striped shirt with a navy waistcoat and suit. His hair had just been cut and he’d shaved mere minutes before he’d walked out the door. He'd worn his best cologne.

“You outshine me, I assure you,” he whispered in her ear. “Everyone’s been staring at you all night.” 

“Have you been?” she asked in an uncharacteristically bold manner.

“Ever since I got here,” he rasped. “Can’t take my fucking eyes off you,” The butterflies came back in her belly, his grip on the small of her back tightening. “Who was dancing with you before?” he asked. 

“My suitor,” she ground out. “He was terribly rude to me,” she said, eyes burning thinking of the hateful things he’d said. 

“What did he say?” Tommy asked, body tensing. 

“He said I was too skinny, that I was pretty enough and that I needed to speak like I had a brain, essentially,” she rattled off. Tommy clenched his jaw. 

“You are exquisite,” he told her. “Don’t listen to him.” 

“He doesn’t matter anyway,” she said, leaning in closer to him. “You’re the one who matters, Thomas,” she told him. 

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he was 16 again. In love for the first time. Maybe this would be the last time. 

The dancing came to an end so more food could be served, and Tommy walked over to the table with her. He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down. “I’ll be back with a plate for you, and I,” he said, fingers kneading her shoulder softly. She nodded, stomach in knots as her mother approached, Tommy walking towards the food spread. 

“Bee! Bee why were you dancing so closely with that man! You’re supposed to be dancing with Jonathan!” her mother scolded. 

“Mother,” Bee whispered, motioning for her mother to come closer. “That’s the other man!” 

Her mothers eyes widened. “Bee, lovey, that can’t be him,” she said softly. “That’s Thomas Shelby.” 

Bee’s eyes widened. “You know who he is?” 

“Darling he’s a gangster,” her mother eyed the room apprehensively before leaning down to her daughter. “He’s the leader of a dangerous gang in Birmingham, how could you keep this from me?” 

“I didn’t know, mother! He said he was a businessman–a bookmaker!” Bee said defensively, brain spinning. 

Her mother laughed. “Bee, he’s a bookmaker because he’s known for fixing races,” her mother seethed. 

“Mother–”

“No, Bee! He is dangerous!”

“He is behind you,” Tommy said, holding two plates of food, standing behind Mrs. Sutton, who was, ironically, standing in front of Tommy’s chair. 

“Oh!” Mrs. Sutton exclaimed, quickly moving out of the way. “Mr. Shelby,” she said, jaw clenched. 

“Mrs. Sutton, I presume?” he said, handing Bee a plate of food he knew she wouldn’t eat. Her body was alight with nerves. 

“Yes. My daughter is quite taken with you, Mr. Shelby, but she is spoken for. This seat is already occupied.” Her mother said, gripping the back of the chair, preventing Tommy from sitting down. 

“Mother, please,” Bee tried protesting. 

“Oh, here he comes. Here’s Jonathan!” her mother says, a smile spreading on her face. Jonathan approached with his own plate of food, sitting down next to Bee. 

Tommy nodded in acknowledgement before taking a seat on her right. “Appears this seat is empty, I’ll just sit here then,” he threw Mrs. Sutton a smug smile, eyes narrowing. 

“Flanked by a gentleman on either side, Miss Sutton, you are quite desired I see,” Jonathan seethed, Mrs. Sutton letting out a surprised squeak. 

“I need to see to my father, excuse me, please,” Mrs. Sutton said, desperately trying to wrap her head around the scene unfolding in front of her and needing to get away from it. 

“I assure you, Mr. Sayers, I am no gentleman,” Tommy said, raising a cigarette to his lips. 

“Of that I have no doubt,” Jonathan quipped back. 

Bee sank deeper into her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“But I do know how to speak to a lady,” Tommy said, leaning into the table, peering around Bee to get a better look at his opponent. 

Jonathan scoffed. “Who? Her?” he eyed Bee. 

Tommy ran his tongue over his teeth, temper threatening to boil over at any moment. “I need some air, if you’ll excuse me,” Bee said, in a voice so small Tommy almost didn’t recognize her voice. She got up and exited the room, making her way to a terrace off the ballroom. 

Jonathan moved to stand. “Sit down,” Tommy rasped, leaning back in his chair. “Give her a minute.” 

To his surprise, Jonathan listened, sitting down, his eyes narrowed. “What interest does Gypsy scum like you have in her?” Tommy’s eyebrows raised and he cocked his head to the side. “I know who you are, everyone in this fucking room knows who you are except Bee. She’d be much better served with a normal man, not some psychotic racketeer who has the police in his pocket and whores adorning his bed every night,” Jonathan spat, face turning red. 

“You’re right,” Tommy said, not meeting his expression. “She probably would be better served being with a man who wouldn’t put her life in danger, but,” he took a drag off his cigarette. “It should be her choice, shouldn’t it?” 

Jonathan scoffed. “She doesn’t know what’s best for her, wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit her in the face. She’s naive and dull–”

Before Jonathan could get another word out, Tommy nearly leapt from his seat, taking a hold of his collar, temper spilled over. “Say one more word about her and I will cut you from ear to ear,” he seethed, teeth bared. “That woman,” he breathed. “That lovely creature will never be yours. Even if she refuses me, she will never have you. You aren’t deserving of her.” 

Jonathan smirked. “And you think you are?” 

Tommy let go of his collar, standing up and walking towards the terrace. 

Bee stood, her hips pressed against the wrought iron railing of the terrace, head in her hands, staring into the gardens. “Darling,” Tommy rasped low, a hand gently resting on the small of her back. 

She turned immediately to him, face full of anger. “You should’ve never come here,” she said. His heart panged in his chest, the familiar ache growing within him. “I’ll be married to Jonathan in less than six months,” she said, lips pressed into a tight line. 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Tommy told her, a hand gently resting on her arm, rubbing it soothingly. 

She wrenched away from him, scoffing in annoyance. “Get away from me, Thomas!” she said, not looking at him. “You lied to me.” 

His heart sank in his chest, seeing the pain on her face. “Lied?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat. 

She laughed incredulously. “A bookmaker, a businessman who works with horses,” she chuckled. “Good thing I don’t read the papers, hm? How about a gangster? A man who fixes races,” she sneered. 

Tommy sighed, digging his hands in his pockets. “I was going to tell you–”

“When? When, Thomas? After I was hopelessly in love with you? Unable to separate my heart from yours? I’ve spent all week dreaming of you and you leave these details out! We spoke for hours that first night!” she said, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. 

Tommy cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

She looked at him, his eyes full of regret. “I should’ve never let you take me to dinner that night,” she said, storming back into the ballroom. 

And he let her. 

“Tommy! Tom! Thomas, hello?” Polly yelled, snapping her fingers in front of her nephew's face. “Are you in another world over there?” she asked, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. 

“What were you saying, Pol?” he asked, refocusing his attention. 

She sighed. “Oh for fucks sake, when are you going to tell me what the hell has gotten into you?” she asked, exasperated. 

It had been three weeks since he’d heard from Bee. She hadn’t answered the phone. He’d sent flowers three times a week for the last three weeks, each arrangement more elaborate than the one before it. He’d sent handwritten notes with them, begging her for forgiveness, asking her to call him, or answer the damn phone. 

“It’s nothing, Pol,” he sighed. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who is she?” 

He sighed, letting his head thump back against the backrest of the plush chair he was sitting in. “This girl I met in London.” 

Polly raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with her?”

He sighed. “Not a fucking thing,” he breathed, striking a match and bringing it to his cigarette. “I didn’t tell her what I do exactly and she found out somehow, probably from this bastard that she’s supposed to be courting, or her busybody mother, but the suitor–he speaks terribly about her.”

“Then why is he courting her?” Polly asked. 

Tommy shook his head. “Fuck if I know.” 

“Well either go to her and beg for forgiveness or stop sulking. You’re making everyone miserable,” Polly told him, standing up from her chair and walking out of the room. 

“Fuck,” he grumbled. 

“What the hell are we going to London for again, Tom?” John grumbled as he, Arthur and Tommy all piled in the car together. 

“Business,” Tommy ground out as Arthur turned the key in the ignition. 

“Yeah, fucking business about a woman,” Arthur said in jest. 

“Ah fuck,” John rolled his eyes. 

“While I am handling my own business, you two are going to check on the pubs we’re paid to look after. Make sure everything is as it should be. Shouldn’t be long.”

The trio rode to London in silence. 

It was Sunday, and in true Sutton family fashion, the whole family was gathered around the dinner table–this week there was an additional guest. A Mr. Jonathan Sayer. 

Dinner was progressing rather awkwardly, Bee’s inability to separate her mind from the two-facedness of this man overwhelming her. He was sweet and attentive in front of either of their parents but rude and dismissive when it was the two of them. She had tried telling her father, who only waved her off. “If we left you to your own devices to choose a man, you’d be with that bastard Tom Shelby,” he cackled. “We’re doing what’s best, Darling, I assure you.”

At the mention of Thomas’ name, her blood boiled. She hadn’t spent a day not thinking about him–he’d made it quite hard with the multiple bouquets of flowers he’d sent her over the last few weeks. Betty had sneezed nonstop for all the pollen. But Bee couldn’t bring herself to throw any of them away. 

She warred in herself about Thomas Shelby. She was enamored by him, curious about this man still. His attention had been nice. The way he looked at her. Like she changed his world somehow. She could smell his cologne if she closed her eyes and tried hard enough. But she was so mad at him–that he wouldn’t have told her about what he truly did. One would think that if a lady was getting involved with a gangster, the said gangster, if he was truly as enamored with her as she was with him, would value her safety and disclose this pertinent information to her. But no. He didn’t! 

Her mind circled in these patterns of rationalizing his behavior, and then becoming angry with him again. 

After dinner and dessert, Jonathan asked her to take a walk. She reluctantly agreed. He led them down the stairs and to the alleys. Suddenly, when he figured they were out of sight enough, he pushed her against the brick, her vision going starry, the back of her head hitting the brick. 

“If you’re not good for anything else,” he sneered, hands pinning her shoulders to the brick. “You will give me pleasure as my wife,” he growled, lips pressing roughly against hers. 

Bee tried to squirm away from him, trying to speak to him, tell him she’d rather take it slowly, rather kiss him gently, but his strength had her pinned against the brick, unable to move. 

Tommy had asked around London and had graciously been told where the Sutton family home was. He had remembered Bee telling him on Sunday evenings they all had dinner together and was delighted at his good timing and luck. He approached the row of buildings he had been told the Suttons lived in, when he heard a whimper. “No, no, please, not this way, please, Jonathan,” his blood ran cold, hearing that sweet voice he’d longed to hear. 

He couldn’t make out Jonathan’s reply but he quickened his pace, walking towards the alleys. 

The rage that Tommy tried so bloody hard to stifle boiled over. “Hey!” he called, voice deep and booming from his chest, echoing off the brick walls that surrounded them. Jonathan and Bee’s heads turned towards him. “Take your fucking hands off her!” Tommy yelled, removing his cap from his head. 

“Or what?” Jonathan countered as Tommy continued to stalk closer. 

Tommy delivered a crunch to the man's jaw, a sickening crunch of teeth giving him chills. Bee tumbled to the floor of the alley, her dress askew on her body. 

“Thomas!” Bee yelled. 

Blood roared in Tommy’s ears as he hunched over Jonathan, hands gripping his neck. “She will never be yours,” Tommy ground out before slashing his blade across Jonathan’s left eye. Bee screamed at the blood. It was everywhere. Jonathan screamed in agony, clutching his eye as Tommy stood up. “By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders,” He shook the blood from his cap and approached Bee gently. “Come on, Darling,” he held a hand out to her. 

She was shaking as Tommy helped her to her feet, his strong arms and hands holding her against him. She began to cry, her body suddenly cold despite the warm day. “Thomas,” she cried as he led her away from where Jonathan lay on the floor screaming still. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Tommy told her, holding her closer to him. “He’ll never touch you again.” 

Once they were in the sunlight, out of the alleyway, she nearly collapsed in his arms. “Thomas,” she cried. “Why?” tears ran down her face. 

In one swift motion, he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her up the steps to her parents flat. He nearly kicked the door in, fuming with anger. “What the hell–” Mr Sutton said. “What have you done to her?” 

Tommy walked her over to the sofa, where he laid her down. She looked at her father with tears in her eyes. “He’s done nothing but be honorable, Father,” she cried.

“Why is there blood on you? Where is Jonathan?” her mother chimed in, walking over to her daughter. 

“I was coming here tonight to beg for your daughter's forgiveness,” Tommy started. “And when I approached the flats, Mr. Sayer was trying to take advantage of your daughter,” Tommy told them, jaw clenched. 

Mrs. Sutton cradled her daughter against her chest. Bee sniffled, “He saved me.”

Tommy buried his hands in his pockets, eyeing the floor, waiting for an accusation or a demand to remove himself from the flat. 

“Thomas,” Mr. Sutton said, as they heard ambulance sirens in the distance. “Thank you.” 

Mr. Sutton approached Tommy, holding his hand out. Tommy shook it, jaw still clenched. “I don’t want to be with Jonathan, Father,” Bee said quietly. 

Mr. Sutton shook his head. “You will never see him again, Bee Darling.” 

Tommy eyed Bee, that look of adoration in his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me, Darling. But even if you don’t, I wouldn’t have changed what I did today.” 

And he turned on his heel and left. 

The first half of the week came and left. There was news that Jonathan Sayer lost his eye. Tommy smiled to himself when Arthur told him. 

It was half past three in the afternoon, Tommy was shuffling through endless papers, stacks of money, letters, invoices. A secretary he couldn't remember the name of, Joanna maybe? Knocked on the door. “Mr. Shelby?” he looked up from his paperwork, an annoyed look in his eyes. “There is a woman here for you–she says to call her Bee? Sutton I think she said.”

Tommy never stood up so quickly. “Send her in! Eh! Now!” he demanded, straightening his waistcoat, tucking his tie down into it, running a hand through his hair. 

The secretary scrambled from her awkward position in the doorway. She returned with Bee trailing behind her. She looked angelic, ethereal in the orange afternoon light that flooded through the frosted windows of the Shelby Company Limited Office. “Mr. Shelby, Miss,” Joanna said, shutting the door behind her. 

“Thomas,” Bee said, expression unreadable. 

“Hello, Gorgeous,” he drawled, exhaling smoke. He looked so handsome, she thought to herself. His shoulders looked even broader, arms even stronger, without his suit jacket on. His sleeve garters accentuated the muscle that she knew rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt. His hair was rumpled, almost as if he’d been running an anxious hand through it all day. Which he had. “What brings you to Birmingham?” he asked as she approached his desk.

She sat down in one of the plush leather chairs sitting on the other side of his desk. “You.” 

He felt his neck flash hot, her dark, gorgeous eyes boring into him. “Me, hm?” he said, sitting down in his chair. 

“Yeah,” she said, nostrils flared, lips in an angry line. “You and your bloody flowers and notes and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you,” she confessed, finally diverting her gaze. “You and that stupid look on your face I can’t stand it!” she shouted, standing up, crossing her arms in front of her chest. His eyes were soft as they followed her while she began to pace back and forth behind the chairs opposite his desk. A small smile formed on his lips. “Stop looking at me like that!” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides. 

He stalked over to her, face dangerously close to hers. “Would you like for me to look at you how that bastard your family wanted to marry you off to, looked at you? Hm? Rather look at you like a conquest, not a woman to be desired? To be seduced properly? To be worshiped, adored, cherished? I can look at you like a conquest but you are far more to me than just that. So if you want us to fuck,” he raised his eyebrows, licking his lips. “We can, right now. Right here, bent over my desk, and I’ll throw you to the curb like last week's paper when I’m finished,” she huffed out an angry breath. “Or if you’d rather, I can continue to look at you the way I have since you made me drop my fucking whiskey in that damn London street,” he took her head in his hands. “And spend the rest of my life showing you why I look at you the way I do.” 

His lips ghosted over hers, barely brushing together. “Thomas,” she said softly, a hand coming up to touch his arm. “You don’t mean that.”

“Darling,” he whispered, removing his hands from her face and dropping to his knees in front of her. “Forgive me. Give me another chance, and I promise you, I will never lie by exclusion again,” Tears came to her eyes. She shut her eyes quickly, as to not see the pleading look in his eyes. “If you didn’t come here to tell me you want to be with me, then what did you come all the way down here for, hm?”  

Her hand cupped his jaw gently, thumb rubbing his cheekbone softly. “Nothing but that, Thomas. Absolutely nothing.” 

He stood to his feet, pressing his forehead against hers, smiling like an idiot. “Does this mean I have to formally ask your father to court you?” he asked. 

She swatted at his chest playfully. “If you want to go about this as a gentleman, then yes,” she giggled. 

“If I were a gentleman, I don’t think I’d want to kiss you so terribly right now,” he breathed. 

“Well,” she said, a flirty tone in her voice. “You don’t always have to be a gentleman. You can always start this evening.” 

He chuckled, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up towards his. “I’ll start this evening then, Miss Sutton.”

He brought his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, one hand on her cheek, the other on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Her hands rested on his chest, melting against him. Tommy inhaled her perfume, bringing his hand down from her face to crush her body further against him. Wanting, needing her closer. 

She sighed into the kiss, not wanting it to end. His lips were soft and he smelled of tobacco and whiskey and ink and cologne and never in her life had she smelled something so intoxicating as Thomas Shelby. 

He pulled away reluctantly, every ounce of discipline in his mind and body being put to test. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he rasped, forehead resting against hers. 

She was breathless, heart skipping a beat in her chest. “Thomas Shelby,” she giggled as he tried to reach for her lips again. 

“Yes?”

“I think we may have an audience,” she giggled, noticing several blurry figures outside of the window. 

He turned around and cursed under his breath. “Oui! Gimme a minute!” he shouted, and the figures scattered back to their respective desks and offices. “They’re so fucking nosey,” he mumbled. “Where was I?” 

She pulled his neck closer to her face, nails scratching at the short hair at the back of his head. “Somewhere around here,” she smiled at him. 

He picked her up and carried her to the chaise in the office, sitting her in his lap. “I don’t think I can ever let go of you,” he breathed, his hands running over the fabric of her skirt, dangerously close to her bum. 

“Then don’t,” she told him. And he crashed his lips to hers. 

The next evening, Tommy arrived at the Sutton family’s flat in London. He knocked on the door, heart in his hands. Mrs. Sutton opened the door, a pleased expression on her face. “Mr. Shelby, come in.” 

He walked in the front room where Mr. Sutton sat, a stern expression on his face. “Mr. Shelby,” he greeted coldly. 

“Evening, Mr. Sutton,” he drawled, taking a seat on the chair opposite Mr. Sutton. “I have come to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

The older man snarled. “I guessed as much. You’ve got all these ideas in her head about romance running rampant in her mind. I believe in love, Mr. Shelby, I just don’t believe a man like you is capable of it.” 

Tommy nodded. “I won’t disappoint you, or your daughter, Mr. Sutton.” 

Mrs. Sutton joined the two of them with cups of tea. “I don’t really see what someone like you wants with someone like her. Honestly, Mr. Shelby, you have plenty of women at your disposal.”

“None of them are her,” Tommy said simply, jaw clenched. “I assure you, all the days of her life, she will be safe with me.” 

The older man scoffed. “You talk as though you wish to marry her,” Tommy’s eyes grew serious. “You can’t be serious. Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy took a deep breath out. “Yes. She is young and she is beautiful and she is elegant and intelligent and innocent and everything I am not, but I have not gone a day, a moment without thinking of her since I met her. I am not an honest man, but my intentions with her are honest. I do not wish to sully her reputation or lay with her and kick her to the side. If she will have me, it would be an honor to walk beside her.” 

Mrs. Sutton was frozen, a hand to her chest, tears in her eyes. Mr. Sutton rolled his eyes. “Aah, hell,” he sighed, reaching a hand out. “You have my blessing, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy all but ran to Bee’s flat, a few blocks from her parents after his conversation with them was finished. “Darling!” he shouted from the street. She heard him through the open window and waved at him to come up. Betty was at the book shop tonight, so the flat was empty besides her. 

She flung the door open and he pulled her into his chest, hands on her hips before spinning her into the air. “Thomas!” she giggled as he held her, arms encircling her thighs. She looked down at him, holding his head in her hands. “Thomas, did he say yes?” 

“Reluctantly,” Tommy told her breathlessly. She removed his hat from his head, tossing it to the entryway table.  

“Thank you for asking like a gentleman,” she told him, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll make an honorable gangster out of you yet,” she giggled as he set her down gently. 

“I’m afraid I’m the one who’s going to take everything that’s honorable about you and throw it out the window,” he nearly growled, a hand gripping her hip. 

“Go ahead,” she challenged, boldly pressing her lips to his with a smile. 

He was done for. Done for and he knew it. But he was happy. Fuck. He was happy.