#go watch the latest season seriously

[ky-landfill]

[wosospacegirl]

I don't know why I bite - part 1

Summary: Leah Williamson is determined to prove herself as Arsenal’s new head coach. Everything is going according to plan���until Y/n, the team’s latest signing, waltzes in late on her first day with a ridiculous excuse and even more ridiculous charm. Leah is not amused. Y/n is not taking her seriously. And the season hasn’t even started yet.

Warnings: grumpy x sunshine!!!!

Word count: 4.6k

Masterlist

Notes: I turned this blurb into a multi-chapter fic, this first chapters looks a lot like the blurb, but I added more depth to the characters. It was 2.6k before and now it's 4.6k

..

Leah Williamson became a living legend after leading the Lionesses to yet another victory in the Euros 2025 as the team captain and a defender. 

Unfortunately, 2025 was her last year as a professional footballer, after suffering a career-ending injury at the end of the season.

Leah had been an Arsenal player since the age of  9, playing for Arsenal Academy. When she was 17 she signed for Arsenal as a senior and hasn’t looked back since.

Leah never felt the need to work towards an international career. She loved Arsenal, it had been her family club since it was formed. It was a club that valued community and a club that stood up for women and LGBT rights. 

Arsenal was never just a club to Leah. That was one of the reasons she was so completely devastated when she was injured.

It was the Champions League final against Olympique Lyonnais. Leah had the ball and was getting ready to pass it to Beth when something collided with her knee.

One of the players–a younger and inexperienced one– had tried to take the ball, but the girl didn't measure how fast and hard she was going for the ball. In the end, her boot dislocated Leah’s knee.

In the end, Leah ended up in the grass of the pitch, but that time she was never to get up and play again.

It wouldn’t have been as bad if it wasn’t the same knee where she had torn her ACL years ago.

Leah was completely distraught when she got the news. She isolated herself from everyone she knew, finding it hard to discover another purpose in life. 

She didn’t want to talk with Beth, Alex, or anyone else. Her whole life had been around football and she didn’t know who she was or what she could be without it.

In the following weeks after Leah discovered she wasn't going to play anymore she had a complete breakdown. She was home alone, trying to walk to the kitchen when the TV news started talking about her.

Arsenal had released the medic report that stated Leah was going to retire due to a career-ending injury. It was the first report and update the world had of Leah Williamson since Leah was still hopeful that she could recover from her knee.

 She didn't, and neither Arsenal nor the Lionesses could keep a player who couldn't run. 

The news talked about her whole trajectory in football. 

It stung watching her younger self lifting trophies and scoring goals. If only she knew how miserable she was going to feel for the rest of her life.

And that is how Serina–Leah’s formal Manager– stepped in and invited the blonde to some coffee in North London.

“I think I know what would help you,” Serina said, taking a sip of her cappuccino. 

“Are you going to give me a new knee?” Leah asked, a hint of madness in her voice. Everybody thought they could help her, but in reality, half of her friends couldn’t even understand what was going on inside her head.

Sarina ignored Leah’s mood. “Belgium has one of the best Coaching centres in the world. I went there, Renée too. If you could get a Coaching certificate, you could start working as an assistant, or as a youth Manager at Arsenal. You’ve been there since you were a kid, and with your history Arsenal’s management would be mad not to give you a chance.”

“Manager?”

“Why not? You have a football brain, you have good leadership, and people trust you. You are a full package,” Sarina responded. “Just think about it, will you?”

Sarina left the coffee shop, leaving a contemplative Leah behind.

..

“If you need anything, you have my number.” Renée’s voice echoed through Arsenal’s training grounds.

It was Renée’s last day as the head Manager. Three years ago, Leah went to Brussels and got her Coaching certificate. 

It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. Not to be humble.

She was already very keen on football. After eight months of entering the Manager Academy, Leah was ready to start a new chapter of her life: Assistant Manager of Arsenal, alongside Renée.

The whole time Leah spent as Renée’s assistant was very productive. Leah learned a lot from the older woman, but Leah couldn’t wait for the day she would be officially named Head Manager, aka Manager.

As an assistant, Leah had some type of power to make strategic changes during a match and give her two cents on matters of hiring new players, but still wasn’t enough.

Leah promised herself she wouldn’t stop until she became the Manager of Arsenal Women. She would build her dream team and be the best manager she could be. 

She would fight her to be as good as Renée and wouldn't make any of Jonas's mistakes. Leah was ready to give her all to Arsenal again, but this time from the sideline.

And that’s what Leah did.

Renée decided to retire, and Arsenal agreed to sign Leah Williamson—the ex-captain of the England National team and Gunner-born—to their team.

“I have everything under control, Renée. You know I’ve been wanting your Manager position for a long time.” Leah said with a smirk. “The only thing you have to worry about is your wife and daughter, alright, mate? You’ve already done a lot for Arsenal.”

Both Leah and Renée were wearing Arsenal’s matching outfits. They had just left a small farewell party in the Arsenal’s event room; almost all players were there to say their goodbyes to Renée, and of course, welcome Leah into her new position.

Leah had to give a speech, her first speech as a Manager. She was very nervous but didn't show. She wanted the team to know she was a strong, determined and of course, caring Manager. 

“Still, Williamson, if you need any help, tips or even a friendly shoulder, just know that I’m here,” Renée insisted. The older woman was carrying a box in her arms, the outside having Once a gunner, always a gunner written on it.

Leah stared at the box, she had seen Renée packing things up in her office earlier that day, carefully putting pictures, books and even newspaper articles about Arsenal inside the container. 

It being full meant that Leah’s new office was officially ready for her to take in.

Both women walked through the front door of the Arsenal Training Grounds, and a cold breeze met Leah in the face, making the women shiver. Renée looked at the busy street ahead of her until she pointed to a black Audi A3. 

“That’s mine, guess I’ll go then,” Renée said, a bittersweet smile on her face.

There was a woman and a little kid in braids waving in front of the cars. Renées’ family had come to pick her up. Cute.

Before Renée could walk, Leah hugged her. “Thank you for everything, If I ever need you, I’ll give you a call, I’m serious” Renée hugged the blonde woman back before heading to her car.

 Before she could open the passenger’s door she turned to Leah.

“Don’t forget about the new girl coming in tomorrow, Leah. You’ll have to show her around and everything, plus she’s not from the UK, so—”

“Renée don’t worry!  Y/n is coming tomorrow at 9 am, I have everything planned out,” Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

“Alright, alright,” Renée said. “Now it’s all with you, kid.”

Leah watched as the ex-Arsenal manager got into the car and left.

Now that Reneé was gone and Leah was officially alone, she couldn’t help but feel a slight insecurity growing in her chest. She was the one responsible for the team now, her players relied on her. 

She needed to be firm, trusted, sincere and caring. She was the face of the team and she needed to do a good job. She needed to be focused only on Arsenal for now. 

She already had made her name known as a player, now she was going to make her name known as a coach.

Leah Williamson. New Manager, now official.

It was embarrassing to admit but Leah Williamson giggled and skipped toward her office. 

It was the best day of her life. Definitely.

Ok, maybe the second day. 

Nothing compared to winning the euros.

..

Leah thought her first day as Manager would be unfazed. What could go wrong? It was her first day as manager, of course, but it wasn’t like she was completely new to it. She knew the corridors with the palm of her hand, she could name every staff member's family member, and she knew every crack that needed to be fixed and every lamp that needed to be changed. 

Leah bleed Arsenal 

Leah still had the same players from last season–no one had retired or changed clubes–half of which were her former teammates and friends. The players all had their routine schedule with gym time, physio, drill and pitch time.

Nothing changed. Leah’s day was going as planned on her Google Calendar.

“I need this first day to go perfectly. No mistakes,” Leah muttered to herself, closing her eyes for a moment. “I need to prove to everyone that I can handle this. And I will”

But then, Y/n happened.

Y/n, the newest Arsenal signing of the season and the only change of the team.

It was 9:37 am and the girl was nowhere to be seen. The cold bit at Leah’s lips, numbing them, and the tips of her fingers ached from the chill.

Leah was losing her mind. She had the whole day planned. A meeting to go through, hours of tactical footage to analyse, and a schedule that should have been running smoothly–until Y/n ruined it by being late on her first day.

Leah was waiting alongside the media team to greet and officially meet Y/n for the first time. But instead of focusing on the introduction, she was standing in the cold, fighting the urge to scream.

Leah didn’t participate a lot in Y/n’s hiring; it was mostly Renée doing the work of checking her statistics and all the bureaucracy of recruiting someone from another country. She didn’t even agree with Renée at first, she couldn’t see why Arsenal needed another defender.

“Arsenal needs a sweeper,” Renée had argued during one of their meetings. “Someone who is fast, and logical but not aggressive. This kid Y/n is great for the position.”

“She’s young, just finished playing in college football,” Renée continued. “Think of her as your Alessia Russo, but as your four.”

Four being the last defence position in Football.

“Leah, we really have to get going, we need to take solo photos of the players, maybe when Y/n gets here we can try to make a small welcoming video, or something,” Clarice, the media director said as she looked at her watch. “I mean she is very late, and we have so much to do—”

“Yeah, of course, Clarice, you all can go. If she arrives, I’ll give you a call,” Leah said, impatience clear in her voice, but not wanting to also ruin Clarice’s plans for the day, she still had to do pictures with Beth, Lotte and Vic.

Leah was alone in the car park, tapping her foot against the pavement.

How can someone be late for their first day of training? It was clear to Leah that Y/n didn’t care so much about being the priciest Arsenal hiring in the last 10 years since she didn’t worry about actually coming to training.

When Leah signed as a senior in Arsenal she made her mom drop her off 3 hours earlier. She literally helped the staff open the Arsenal training grounds with how early she was.

Leah walked around the car park and looked at her watch. 5 minutes. Leah would wait 5 more minutes and if Y/n wasn’t here, she would go inside, into her office and let the new girl fend for herself.

 Leah was busy and she needed to watch a bunch of matches to study Arsenal’s future opponents, but instead, she was here waiting for this girl like a fool.

9:42 am.

Leah turned around, heading to the door and feeling stupid about waiting on someone who was not coming. At least now she could do some tactical work against Chelsea. 

Before Leah stepped into the building, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned around slowly, not enjoying the non-welcoming physical touch. 

She locked eyes with a girl.

Y/n.

Leah, for some reason, was expecting to find the girl in full footballer mode, perhaps with her hair tied back, or dirty clothing from an intense match, but Leah was not expecting to find a very… cute girl instead. Leah had only watched the videos Renée sent of Y/n on the pitch, so she was rather surprised to see the new girl didn’t naturally have grass all over her hair.

Y/n was wearing what looked to be five layers of clothing and a coat which was way too big for her. She was wearing very inappropriate shoes for the light layer of snow accumulation on the floor. 

It was like Y/n didn’t know how to dress for cold weather. It made Leah angry, for some reason. Maybe she was just grumpy.

Before Leah could blink, the new girl began rambling.

“I am so, so sorry, ma’am,” Y/n quavered, quickly pulling her hand away from Leah’s shoulder as she noticed the frown forming on her face. “You see, my cat ran away, and I had to chase after him and that took me twenty minutes, and then I took the wrong Tube—”

“Huh?” Leah cut in, her frown deepening. The girl was talking way too fast. “Your cat…?”

“His name is Ball,” Y/n explained. “He's orange. You know how orange cats are.” 

Leah frowned even more. The girl in front of her had a strange habit of saying whatever popped into her head. And what was that about orange cats? Since when did colour determine a cat’s personality? Leah wouldn't know–she was a dog person through and through.

And what was she saying about the orange cat personality? Leah didn’t know the colour of a cat mattered. Leah was through and through a dog person.

A heavy silence hung between them.

“What are you on about?” Leah questioned exasperated, crossing her arms.

Y/n fumbled for words. “Ball ran away and that’s why I am–” Y/n glazed at her phone and gasped. “–oh my god, so late!”

Leah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should probably be more focused on the girl’s lateness, but one thing was bothering her more.

“Ball? Your cat’s name is Ball?” 

Leah blinked. Once. Twice.

“Uh–football?” Y/n tried weakly. “Okay, forget it, I am so sorry for being late!”

Leah already knew three things about the girl standing in front of her:

She was disorganized and had too much energy, the worst combo.

She had a cat. A cat named Ball.

She was confused.

Leah wasn’t particularly fond of her so far. Maybe with some tough training, she’d be easier to deal with.

“You made me waste half of my morning here,” Leah said sharply “Don’t let it happen again.”

Leah turned on her heels and headed for the Arsenal training grounds. Behind her, she heard footsteps and the squeak of Y/n’s shooed against the pavement. Leah clenched her jaw. The sound was enough to make her want to rip her own shoes off.

“I–I’m sorry, and of course, it won’t happen again, ma’am” Y/n apologized, looking down at her feet.

Leah stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Y/n nearly bumped into her. Leah turned, her gaze was cold.

“Don’t call me ma’am.” She snapped. “It’s Williamson”

Today was supposed to be a good day, Y/n thought. She had written down on her planner everything she needed to do in order to get to the club in time. 

She had printed the map of the Tube so she could get around easily and not get lost, but of course, it didn’t work out and now her new Manager was clearly pissed at her.  

And of course, the woman angry at her had to be THE Leah Williamson, one of the most skilful defenders of all time and one of Y/n’s biggest inspirations. Y/n even had a poster of Leah in her dorm room–and maybe in her teenage bedroom as well.

Y/n had just graduated from her college in biology. The only reason she was able to get a diploma was because she had the opportunity to be an international student-athlete in the USA. It wasn’t easy being away from home and managing a social life with school and football, but she made it work.

Y/n biggest dream was always to play in a good and competitive league after she graduated. She got a handful of offers in the USA Women’s League, but she didn’t want to be in America anymore, she also didn’t want to go to her home country, so that’s why she screamed when she got the proposal from Arsenal.

Renée had first sent her an email asking her if she had any interest in playing professionally after finishing college. Y/n replied right away, telling her that she pretty much had no other choice: football was her one and true passion.

After that first interaction, Renée and Y/n exchange a few more emails. Y/n sent Renée her whole university’s league statistics, as well as some game tapes.

Renée replied that she was excited to have the girl on their team. They used Facetime to talk about important things, like calendars, dates and salary.

Oh, the money. It was more money than Y/n ever had in her entire life. Yeah, it didn’t match the man’s team, but it was way more than she made while working on the weekends as a baby and pet sitter.

Y/n was trying to see the bright side of this situation. She was in a new country, had her own apartment, and she had signed with one of the best teams in the league. 

She was so happy but so terrified of joining Arsenal. Arsenal was a club with history, it was a big club with deep roots in all of London and the UK as well. 

Y/n was grateful that Renée had seen potential in her, she wasn’t bad or anything, honestly, she had a way of tackling without getting fools which was impressive. But from now on her teammates weren’t going to be college girls like her, she was going to be surrounded by world-class players.

Was she good enough for that? Maybe she was just good at college football. Her manager said she was talented and skilful, and her Manager back in college said she had promising features. But it all depended on her now, could she do it? Could she fill up some big girl boots and show good football on the pitch? Y/n would have to wait and find out.

She was sure of one thing: Leah’s treatment of her wasn’t very welcoming. Yeah, maybe she was late and maybe she called her ma’am. She had messed up, but did Leah really need to walk in front of her a few feet away as if they were social distancing?

When Renée talked through her about her signing she did say she wasn’t going to be in the position as Manager much longer, she just hadn’t said Leah was the one stepping in. 

Not that Y/n was mad, she did deserve it after being almost an hour late, she just wished Renée had stayed a little longer to actually give her a good and warm welcome.

“Walk faster,” Leah said, turning her head around, frowning on her face. “We have the whole building to see.”

Does she ever smile? Y/n didn’t think so.

Leah Williamson didn’t look so grumpy on screen

“Sorry,” Y/n said, stepping up the pace.

Y/n was off to a hard start.

Leah was a grumpy Manager, but it was clear how much she loved the club. She was giving Y/n a great tour despite their bad greeting earlier today, but the snappy comments and impatience attitude were still there.

Should Y/n buy her an apology gift? Would Leha like that? What could she do so Leah wouldn’t be so angry at her? She couldn’t have her manager not liking her on her debut as a senior player! That would be embarrassing.

People had told her before she was hard to be around, too energetic, too forgetful, just too much. She thought it would change when she moved to London, but it didn’t seem like it.

“This is the locker and the changing room. You can grab that one on the left,” Leah pointed at one of the lockers, with no identification on its door. “Basic rules: don’t let your clothes or boots lying around, lock your locker and just keep tidy.”

Y/n hated Leah's tone. It was like the Manager wanted to be everywhere else in the world but here with her. But she couldn’t blame Leah, she wouldn’t enjoy it if somebody kept her waiting for almost 50 minutes.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened earlier,” Y/n mumbled, following Leah through the corridors. She didn’t know where they were going. Maybe the kit room? “I’m normally very punctual.”

“Hm,” Leah said, sounding indifferent. “Show that from now on.”

Maybe Y/n was going to cry on her first day after all.

Leah took a turn in the corridor and both women were in front of a white door, with “Medical Room” written on it.

The room was fairly normal, having a couple of physios and massage tables. It looked like the place hadn’t been used today, since the tables were all made. A few Pilates objects were scattered around, making the room seem more lived in.

What really caught Y/n’s attention were the photos on the wall. Y/n took a step closer to the wall, leaving Leah behind her.

Kyra and Alessia were smiling, both receiving messages from an older woman, whom Y/n guessed was the physiotherapist. Kim Little was right next to the girls’ pictures, wearing an air cast and using a crutch.

Vivianne Miedema and Beth Mead lay on a massage table, holding hands as they smiled for the picture. “ACL couple #1”, written just below it.

Next to it was a picture of Leah, a few years younger — maybe she was Y/n’s age — running in her arsenal kit. “Leah’s first run after ACL”, written in the same way as Vivianne and Beth’s photo.

Y/n felt her heart ache for Leah. Y/n was young, but she remembered how the football world was talking about how much Leah was trying to be back after her ACL tear. Ironic how it wasn’t even that injury that ended her career. 

Leah did everything available, every new therapy, and nothing worked. Sure, she could walk and even run for small periods of time, but she would never come back to football again.

Y/n wondered how Leah felt having to look at that picture every day. Memories of a time that would never come back.

“This is obviously the physio room,” Leah said, breaking the awkward silence that had formed. “I’ll email you the medical staff's schedule. If you ever need anything, you can just talk to them, they’re great”

“And if you need any medical speciality  that we don’t have here, Arsenal will book one for you at the closest clinic to your house,” Leah continued.

When Y/n turned around to talk to Leah, she didn’t expect her to be so close. Their bodies bumped together, making Y/n lose her balance and stumble forward. If things weren’t bad enough, she stepped right into one of the exercise objects on the floor.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact of her head on the wall. But it never came.

Leah was faster.

One hand gripped Y/n’s waist, the other cradled the back of her head, steadying her before she could fall;

“Careful!” Leah muttered, almost like a warning 

And that’s when it hit her

A soft scent–strawberry and… vanilla? It quickly found Leah’s nose, she breathed it in for a second too long before she realised she was holding Y/n’s hip a little too tight.

Y/n opened her eyes, meeting Leah’s gaze just for a second. 

They were frozen in place for a moment.

Y/n’s breath hitched. Leah’s body was pressed against her and she could feel its warmth, well, as much as she could considering Y/n was wearing seven layers of clothing.

Leah’s breath ghosted over her skin. Too dangerously close.

“Hey Mary could you see my knee—”

Y/n and Leah were met with Katie McCabe, her green eyes staring at the two women in confusion.

“Oh– hi?” Katie said. Y/n could swear she heard teasing in the Irish woman’s voice. “Am I interrupting something?”

“What?! No, of course not.” Leah blurted, taking her hands off of Y/n’s body abruptly, if it wasn’t for Y/n’s years of training balance not to get tackled to the floor so easily, she would have fallen again, that’s for sure. 

“I was just showing Y/n’s physio room, but Mary wasn’t even here…” Leah seemed defensive now, looking everywhere but at Y/n or Katie.

“She almost fell,” Leah continued, overexplaining herself and pointing at Y/n accusingly. “She tripped on this thing,” Leah lightly kicked the equipment, it was just a rubber ball. 

Y/n would laugh if Leah didn’t seem so nervous all of a sudden. 

“You know I hate when things are left lying around and–”

“Leah.”

“Yeah?”

“You are rambling,” Katie said, making the blonde close her mouth.

“Why don’t you go do some manager things and I’ll finish the tour with her, yeah? It’s Y/n, right?” Katie offered her hand to Y/n, shaking it firmly. “I’m Katie.”

“Hi, yeah I’m Y/n, so sorry this is how we met,” Y/n said, looking down. “Guess I’ll just go with her if that's okay—.”

“More than okay,” Leah mumbled. “Bye, McCabe, I’ll see you at training.” 

Before Y/n or Katie could respond, Leah had already left the room, a frown on her face.

Katie was a way better host than Leah, showing all the places in the facility without making the young girl feel like a chore. The Irish woman couldn’t help but notice that Y/n wasn’t as happy as new players usually were when they first visited the club, so Katie asked what had happened.

“She hates me,” Y/n confessed as soon as they got to the pitch, the last place on the tour.

Y/n didn’t know why she was venting to Katie McCabe. The Katie McCabe, but she seemed nice enough and Y/n was tired.

“Who?”

“Williamson.” Y/n mumbled “I was late earlier, and everything went south after that. I don’t know how I’m gonna get her to like me, or well, tolerate me, at least”

Katie placed a comfortable hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “She doesn’t hate you, she is just grumpy like that, Leah doesn’t like it when things don’t go the way she planned, she’ll come around.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course, it’s your first time at Arsenal, but it's also Leah’s first time as our manager. She never had a new player before; you are her first. Renée was the one handling the greetings and initial meetings with the players. Leah will understand that other people don’t always react in a way she expected.”

Y/n hoped Katie was right.

..

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[alchemistc]

"I am not packing your kitchen, Buck," Maddie says with a hard set to her jaw and a hand planted on her hip, and Evan sends her a warning look over his shoulder, elbow deep in packing tape and half-folded boxes. Tommy is clearly missing something.

"You found the ring cutter in there with the ladles too, huh?" Snipes Eddie from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and before Tommy can get a firm grasp on that Eddie's tipping his head back through the open doorway. "C'mon guys, seriously, you didn't pack this shit up before you forced us all to help you pack?" There's an unopened tube of lube in his hand.

"I'm getting things off of walls and that is all, Evan Buckley," comes Maddie's quick rejoinder, and Buck levels them both with a look.

"That could be for normal stuff! Sometimes rings need cutting! Sometimes you need to - lubricate other things!"

It is, of course, the moment Bobby wanders through the unlocked door.

Tommy's still familiar with the cadence of Hen and Howie, ribbing and mocking a form of endearment for them both, so he's not exactly shocked when Bobby just rolls with it and starts listing off the last fifteen calls they've needed it for. None of those things particularly improve the red rising up Evan's cheekbones, but Tommy catches the grin Bobby's hiding while he sets boxes of pizza up at the kitchen table, cleared of the latest seasonal decor Evan had dragged him through three different department stores to find, not that he could be bothered to care when the very existence of them was all it took to shift Maddie's opinion of him from tolerantly friendly to encouragingly approving.

("This loft was a minimalists wet dream before you were in the picture," she'd told him one evening, after she'd manipulated him into admitting he was terrified this didn't mean the same thing to Evan as it did to him. "He started nesting a month after my wedding, Tommy.")

And now they're here. Watching Evan pretend to be miffed by the teasing while he fights a roll of packing tape.

He's going to miss the upstairs shower, wide enough for two grown men to fit more than comfortably; and the balcony on cooler nights when he could tempt Evan out for a slow dance set to the late-evening traffic; the kitchen island at the perfect height to lift Evan onto and tilt his head up for an angled kiss.

He won't miss the open plan that makes it impossible to do much of anything with a snoring Eddie right below them, the tuba player two doors down who only seems to practice the moment Tommy's head meets the pillow at the end of any random days-long shift, the way the elevator always smells like tuna on Thursday afternoons.

There are things he won't have to miss, of course. Evan, on nights when they just can't make their schedules align well enough to justify the drive time. The extra fluffy towel set Evan had refused to reveal the origin of ("You'll buy your own and leave me, I know you're only with me for my towels."). The pictures plastered to the fridge that Tommy's spent the last few weeks plotting out space for on his own before deciding he'd need a new fridge just to fit them all. The plant he'd bought Evan to appease the grump, the first time he'd dragged him to the farmers market at the ass crack of dawn, lovingly named Herbert. The fancy adjustable bedside lamps Evan had bought the last time he'd caught Tommy squinting down his reading glasses at the book in his hands. Evan.

Christ, he wouldn't have to miss Evan anymore. They'd synched up their schedules more or less as well as they could, but Tommy's spent months now trying to ignore how quickly a sleepless night could turn restful with Evan in his bed - how fitful a night without him there had a habit of being.

Most of the loft is already packed. Evan's wardrobe has been dwindling for weeks now, a box at a time carted from the back of the Jeep up Tommy's drive, through the mud room, down the hall and straight to the closet that had never seen such a shock of color or variety of fabric. They'd sprung for a bigger mattress, once they'd gotten over the sticker shock and remembered how much they'd be saving by paying half a mortgage each with no rent to speak of, and other than the kitchen table most of Evan's other furniture was being donated.

All that really remained were the kitchen supplies Evan hadn't been willing to move until he handed over his keys, a few toiletries, a single drawer of clothes just in case he needed them. Pictures on the walls and stacks of books on the bookshelves - half a decade of life lived in this apartment and most of it was already half unboxed and slowly integrating into the fifteen years Tommy had put into his own solitary life.

Evan finishes taping boxes and makes a beeline for his itemized list, and Tommy has to pretend it's giving him as much grief as Evan's sister and best friend to see the clipboard in action. He's not entirely sure how well he sells it, when even Bobby's shooting him aggrieved looks only to grimace at whatever he finds in Tommy's expression.

And just like that, an hour passes and the pizza disappears; the boxes are loaded into the back of his truck; the kitchen table in Eddie's; and Maddie tugs her brother in for a hug, drags Tommy in for good measure too, kisses them both on the cheek as she leaves; Bobby tucks a wooden box filled with handwritten recipes on note cards into Evan's hand and Tommy pretends not to notice either of their teary eyes; Eddie hefts a six pack out of the otherwise empty fridge and promises to meet them at the house in forty-five.

There's still one picture stuck to the fridge - a candid from the first barbeque Athena and Bobby had hosted after their move, Tommy and Evan backlit by a setting sun, tucked up against each other leaned against a porch railing, and Tommy knuckles at it while Evan does a slow introspective spin to take in the wide expanse of windows and brick. He's still staring when Evan finishes and drifts towards him, hands tucking in at Tommy's waist, chin hooking over his shoulder.

"Is this one staying?"

Evan shakes his head, nose digging into the side of Tommy's neck. "Just wanted to keep it out so it could be the first one we put up."

He remembers the night. Karen had gotten him drunk and added him to the wives group chat. May Grant had stolen half his slice of cake right off his plate and dared him to protest. Jee had spent the entire night calling him Uncle Tommy and thrown a massive fit when she realized he wasn't going home with her to read a bedtime story. Christopher and Denny had spent half an hour trying to teach him how to play Fortnite and then been mystified when he trounced them in Mario Kart. He knows exactly why it's significant to him. "Why this one?" he asks, curving into the cradle of Evan's arms.

Evan's so much better with words than Tommy is, and Tommy's just grateful Evan takes his actions for the things he means with them. "That's the night I knew what our something was gonna be," Evan murmurs, and Tommy tips his chin back and angles his head to catch Evan's lips against his own.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt2) | Leah Williamson

Leah, among other things, can be a bit of a distraction for your game… but just a bit. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: a short one for today,, thanks for all the love in the pt1 :( pt1 - pt3 my masterlist

It had been three days since Leah had received the Instagram notification. Every morning, she took a moment to think about whether it was a good idea to text you or not. So far, you had liked her latest post, and Leah was hoping to return the gesture, but unfortunately for her you hadn't posted anything new since your picture holding the Roland Garros trophy. Not even a story she could react to. Nothing. 

“So... how's it going?” her mother asked that afternoon. Leah had gone to visit her, finding herself with more free time now that the season had ended, not much to do aside from the occasional interview and events, nothing too physically demanding for her.

“Well, I have an interview with the BBC in a couple of days, so that's keeping me busy” Leah said, pacing around the dining room, her eyes wandering over the photographs on one of her mother’s many shelves.

“I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about your girl!” Amanda shouted from the kitchen.

"Stop calling her that. I still can't believe you embarrassed me in front of her” Leah retorted. Just then, something over the fireplace caught her attention. 

Right in the center, where her picture holding up the Euro usually was, now stood a small transparent box. Inside was your autographed tennis ball. Leah picked up the box and couldn't help but smile at the sight of your signature, along with a smiley face.

“Hey, leave that there” her mother scolded as she entered the dining room with the two plates of food for dinner. 

“This should be mine, I'm her fan,” Leah said, fiddling with the box in her hand.

“Did you help Y/N win her trophy?” her mother retorted.

“Well, I got you there in the first place” Leah defended herself, placing the box back in its spot.

"Too bad that gift was given to me. If you want a ball, ask her for it." Amanda teased.

“You're my mother. You should be nicer to me.” Leah countered, taking a seat. 

"Yes, I am your mother, but I didn't raise a coward," Amanda said with a teasing smile. “Now eat”

Leah bit her lip nervously as she stared at her phone screen. The chat with you was open, and a picture of the autographed ball at her mother’s house was ready to be sent.

God, why was she so nervous? She had captained the England women's team to their first major title in history, yet now she was afraid to send a simple message.

“Screw it,” she muttered, hitting send.

“My mom won't let me touch the ball you gave her.”

Leah panicked as soon as the text was sent and quickly locked her phone. She glanced at her watch, it was past eleven o’clock at night, and she didn’t even know where in the world you were right now. The best thing to do was to go to bed and try not to think about the message. Maybe, if she was lucky, you would read it and respond in the morning. 

Within half an hour Leah was in bed, with her ipad in her lap, checking emails. Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

She had tossed it onto the bed ten minutes ago, and now it was lost somewhere among the sheets and the pile of pillows she had. She rummaged around looking for the phone, but couldn't find it, that was until her foot got tangled in the sheets, causing her to tumble to the floor. That's when she saw her phone, on the edge of the bed, covered by a pillow.

Without bothering to get up from the floor, she grabbed the phone and smiled when she saw the notification: a message from you.

“Aww, I seriously thought she would give it to you.”

Would it be too intense if she responded immediately? 

Leah decided to go for it. “My mother is not that kind of mother,” she typed and sent the message, then relaxed as she saw you had immediately read it. The bubble with three dots appeared instantly, confirming you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Ah, my mother is similar. I understand," you replied.

Leah was taken by surprise when the next message popped up.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

She realized she was still sprawled on the floor of her room. She got up, climbed back into bed, and opened the first streaming app she saw on her ipad, choosing an old movie she had been trying to watch for days. She took a picture, making sure to show only the ipad and part of the bed, then sent it to you.

“Watching something.”

Leah shook her head,feeling like a teenager sending things like that. It reminded her of what she used to do years ago. But she wanted to sound interesting to you. What would you think of her if you knew she was actually just checking emails and watching old football matches, trying to figure out if she could play like she used to?

"What about you? I don't even know what time zone you're in."

“I’m in Italy, just an hour difference :)”

“Italy?”

"Resting. Back to my workouts tomorrow."

"Oh, right. What’s next for you now? Berlin?"

This time Leah was surprised to see that your response was not a text, but a voice message. She hesitated before playing it, then hit the button and heard your voice.

“Wow look at you, you really are a fan,” you said in a teasing tone. Leah blushed immediately. She couldn't send you a voice message because she was sure she would get too nervous. Leah Williamson, the same woman who had spoken at the UN months ago, now felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She took a deep breath and replied:

“Of course I am. I’ve watched almost all your matches since Wimbledon last year. I told you I was your fan when I met you. My mother made sure to emphasize that too.”

“I just thought it was to flatter me if I'm being honest... Not that I'm that self-centered, but it wouldn't be the first time it's happened.”

Leah could tell you were walking during the last voice message; there was background noise. You obviously weren't in a room.

“Where are you at this hour?”

The next thing Leah received was a photo of a couple of tennis courts. From the angle and the small table with a glass of water, she deduced that you were sitting a few feet away from the courts.

“I thought you were training from tomorrow?”

"On grass. The grass court season starts soon. Now I was just playing with my racket.” You explained in the message. Leah didn't have a chance to respond before receiving another voice message from you. "But it's getting late now, and I need to rest up for tomorrow's training session. Say hi to your mom for me please." 

"Of course, have a good rest," Leah replied, understanding the importance of proper rest for training sessions, especially during the season.

Days had flown by since that chat, and Leah was getting antsy. She was really hoping you'd reach out first this time, just to ease her mind that she wasn't bothering you. But as she sat at Alex's place,  enjoying a glass of wine over dinner before going out, she couldn't help but feel a bit silly constantly checking her phone for a message that never came.

As far as Leah knew you had already arrived in Berlin for the upcoming Open, not because you told her, but because she'd seen some snapshots of you during training sessions thanks to some tennis websites she followed.

Leah didn't know it, but your mind was fully consumed by the upcoming tournament with Wimbledon just around the corner. It was the topic of discussion throughout your entire day: grass, Berlin, Wimbledon, Leah no, wait, focus on that WTA ranking.

"Ready?" Lucas, your coach, asked, checking his watch. It was the last day before the tournament started.

"Huh?" You looked up, putting your phone down.

Lucas gave you a concerned look. "You okay? You've seemed kinda spaced out for a few days now."

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"Is something up? You look kinda off," Lucas took a seat next to you, his concern evident in his expression. “You're not hiding some injury from me?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine, just tired” you lied, standing up and glancing at your phone once more. Lucas caught your glance.

"Don't tell me there's a girl," he said, rubbing his temples.

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"God, I knew it. It's that Italian girl, isn't it? I saw you chatting with her at the hotel."

"That was a waitress, Lucas. I'm serious, there's no one," you said, grabbing your bag from the floor. "I've got my priorities straight."

"Good. What you have to worry about now is Berlin. Remember, Wimbledon's around the corner" said Lucas, standing up and grabbing his bag. "If you want, after that tournament, you can sleep with whoever you want, Italian or not. But for now, you must keep your eyes on the grass. Okay?"

"Okay"

The next morning, as you sat down for breakfast, Leah's face caught your eye while scrolling through your Instagram feed. She had posted some photos, seemingly from a night out. 

It struck you how you hadn't come across Leah until the Roland Garros final; she seemed like an incredible person. You had even done a quick Google search when you first started following her on Instagram, impressed by her contributions to her sport back home.

It wasn't your fault that your family never showed much interest in football, so it wasn't surprising that you couldn't recognize any of the people beside Leah in those pictures. In the final photo, Leah was wearing a top that exposed her abdomen, wow, with a hand from someone you didn't recognize resting on her waist.

“Hmm?” You quickly tapped on the tag on the other woman's body. Her Instagram profile revealed that she was a football player too. Leah was in many of her photos, often seen next to her or hugging her. 

“Hey, Y/N” Lucas intervened, taking the phone from your hand and turning off the screen. “I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, your match starts in an hour.”

You nodded your head. Lucas didn't seem to notice the tension in your jaw, you tended to be serious before matches, so it wasn't unusual.

As you warmed up on the court, your mind couldn't shake the thoughts about Leah.

"Who was that other woman?"

"It doesn't matter. Leah is just a fan, maybe a friend, not someone you're going to marry."

"Exactly. Whether she has a partner or not shouldn't affect anything."

"But I couldn't help but find her cute."

"She's undeniably beautiful."

"Focus on Wimbledon."

Despite the game starting, your mind continued its internal debate.

Your opponent secured the first game at 40-0. Now it was your turn to serve. Just as you tossed the ball into the air, a nagging thought intruded again.

“Does she have a girlfriend?”

The ball hit the net. An irritated sigh escaped your mouth, knowing you had to make this serve count, aiming to avoid a double fault.

Shaking off the distracting thought, you prepared for another attempt. Gazing ahead, you focused on your opponent's movements, determined to regain control of the match.

"Her mother played matchmaker when we met," you mumbled to yourself, the distraction causing you to miss the hit once more. This time, it sailed over the net but landed wide, giving your opponent an unexpected point.

Even your opponent seemed surprised by the unforced error you just made, giving her a point without any effort on her part.

"I need to find out who she is," you muttered under your breath, feeling the pressure with each lost point.

Your serve had enough power behind it this time, but your return lacked precision, sending the ball flying into the stands. As the ball sailed out, your opponent glanced at you in disbelief, clearly surprised by the unforced error you had just made.

"Wälti, that was her name," you murmured to yourself, the name lingering in your mind like a persistent echo. 

With the score now at 40-15, your opponent was on the verge of breaking your serve.

You needed to get rid of the doubt, but you couldn't leave the game, you weren't that crazy. But you could do something else, win the game in record time. Focus on winning to satisfy your curiosity and anxiety. You adjusted the gold chain that hung around your neck and took a deep breath. You had to hurry.

The match ended 0-2, with you taking the sets at 2-6 and 1-6. Your best result on grass.

"Where'd that come from?" Lucas asked once you were alone. "Since when is your backhand so killer on grass?" he wondered. "I've never seen you pull off moves like that on grass."

"Just got inspired," you said, tossing your visor aside and slumping into the chair. "Can I have my phone now?" Lucas hadn't given it back to you yet, not as a punishment, but because you'd asked him to keep it. 

Lucas handed it over, eyeing you. "You're keeping something from me," he noted, scratching his beard. "But if it's what's making you play like a champ, I'm all for it," he said, grinning.

You brushed off your coach's voice, fingers darting to your Instagram. With a few taps, you found Leah's chat, eager to shoot her a message.

"Heyyy! How was your night?" you typed, your leg bouncing with impatience. Though you needed to hit the shower, the excitement of hearing from Leah consumed you.

"Hope you're not feeling too rough today; starting the week hungover would be nasty," you added, fingers hovering over the screen in anticipation. But as the moments passed, there was still no response from Leah, leaving you hanging in suspense.

A cold shower seemed like the perfect remedy to clear your mind, and thankfully, it did the trick. Lucas egging you on for extra drills, especially to fine-tune your backhand, also helped to distract you.

By dinner, any hope of hearing back from Leah had evaporated. You were so disinterested that you didn't even bother bringing your phone along. It wasn't until nearly ten, when you reached for your phone to set the alarm, that you noticed Leah's message—a voice message.

"Hey, fancy hearing from you!" Leah's voice chimed in, carrying that distinctive lilt that hinted at a potential afternoon spent dozing off. You could practically imagine her, wrapped up in blankets, nursing a post-party hangover. "Yeah, went out with some friends. We were celebrating the end of my mate's long-distance thing. Was fun, until they started getting all soppy, reminding me I'm the last single one in the group."

A groan slipped out before she continued, "I may have had a bit too much to drink," she confessed with a sheepish chuckle.

Those messages had been sent around 4 pm, while you were deep into your training session.

The rest of the voice messages were sent after 7 pm.

"What the heck was up with your game today?!" came the first, followed by a chuckle "Just watched the highlights of your match. Seriously, what did that poor player do to deserve such a thrashing from you? She ain't an ex, is she?"

Then, a last voice message added, "Sorry if that sounded a bit too nosy. Just curious, you know?"

You chuckled, enjoying the sound of Leah's accent. It had this magical way of making you grin like an idiot, even when you were just staring at your phone screen.

But now, what really mattered was Leah's relationship status, she was single, confirmed without even having to pry. Knowing she was single now seemed like a game-changer. Suddenly, that whole thing with Wälti didn't matter anymore, Leah's path was crystal clear. Not that you were planning to make any moves to win her over; that was definitely not on your agenda, at least not for now.

“Remember, Wimbledon”

Oh… the other thing that hit you: Leah truly proved herself to be your fan. It blew your mind that someone recovering from a hangover would bother to watch highlights of your match just to chat about it later. She was the first person to do that, apart from your coach or family.

"Hey, I'm free tomorrow, at least from the matches. What do you think if I call you tomorrow?" you typed, feeling a rush of anticipation mingled with nerves as you crawled into bed.

Before closing your eyes, you couldn't resist checking your phone one last time. And there it was, Leah's response: "Sure, call me anytime tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."

With a grin stretching across your face, you drifted into the most peaceful sleep you've had in ages, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement settling deep within you.

[izzabela]

Hi there! Could write different scenarios of the Lin Kuei brothers who are watching a TV show with their significant other for the first time and a sensual scene comes on and they don't know how to respond between embarrassed and slightly turned on but trying to conceal it (yet failing to lol), and the reader notices it and finds it amusing and teasing them about it? 🤭

Is This Media? - Lin Kuei Trio x GN!reader (scenario fic & modern au)

in which Tomas, Kuai Liang, and Bi Han react to the shows you watch (Bridgerton S2-3 & Queen Charlotte spoilers!)

a/n: as a child, my parents often covered my eyes during kiss scenes or any romance, so I have some ideas on how they'd react

ship[s]: tomas, kuai liang, bi han x gn!reader (scenario fic)

warning(s): suggestive end(s)

Bi Han

Rotting is only for food, plants, and dead animals.

So the fact that Bi Han managed to waste a day on the couch, with you, wrapped in fluffy blankets, with chips on both side of you, and watching Bridgerton, was an incredible feat in it of itself.

Although it was your day off, Bi Han decided to end his own day early, handing off his responsibilities to his brothers back at the office. He had full faith in them, and he missed you (on the DL though). He felt as if he didn't spend enough time with you, so home he went.

He was hoping to hit the gym with you, walk around the park, even go out to those café's you enjoyed. However, when he found you wrapped up like a little babushka with the blanket over your head and chips in your mouth, he knew you had planned something out for the both of you.

So now, he lays next to you as you watch the latest season of Bridgerton, season three with Penelope and Colin. Truth be told, you were watching because Anthony and Kate were making huge cameos, but the season turned out to be decent in your eyes. Bi Han, on the other hand, complained about every little thing.

"The costumes aren't historically accurate," he grumbled at one scene, biting his chip angrily.

"Symbolism seems to be a petty scapegoat in these kinds of shows" he groaned at another scene, one with Penelope writing some stuff down. "I mean, her name is 'Pen' and she holds a quill- how obvious does it get?!"

Seriously, he reminded you of your dad when watching these types of shows.

Now it came to the turning point of the romance, and both characters managed to be alone together. The screen was filled with tension, and the fact both characters are so close, a millimeter from touching, killed you.

"Kiss! Come on, Colin, don't flake now!" you squealed, gripping onto Bi Han's hand as your wishes came true.

While you were giggling your feet like a school girl who just got asked out, Bi Han was quiet and still. His eyes remained glued on the screen, watching as both characters explored one another (to the length they were allowed to go for the rating).

He could feel his pants and underwear suddenly becoming tight, his body growing just a degree warmer, and a warm flush grow on his cheeks and ears. He coughs, trying to distract himself, then reaches for your water bottle on the coffee table in front of you.

You gasp at the betrayal, watching him down the water fast. Like a parched athlete, he's finally done and wipes his mouth after one last gulp. You may have laughed at first, but when you see him shift his pants from under the blanket, the full picture is drawn.

Your eyes catch how his eyes don't meet yours, the pink on his ears and cheeks, even the way he's breathing. He's covering his face and turning away, hoping you leave him alone.

"L-let us continue!" he huffs as he sits back down, his legs bent in a way so the blanket doesn't land on his crotch area.

You turn to him with a sly brow and a smirk, scooting closer to him as you tease your boyfriend.

"Are you... nervous dear?" You poke his cheek as he tries to play it off. "Pen and Colin's scene got you acting all crazy?"

"Don't fill your head with delusion," Bi Han says gruffly, turning away like a toddler who got caught stealing cookies. You just laugh as you keep making fun of him, teasing him for his reactions to Hollywood magic.

You coo and place your hand under his cheek, turning it gently to pepper his face in kisses as an apology for "being mean". As you placed kisses on his forehead, nose, and eyelids, he catches your lips in his as he shoves his tongue in the tavern of your mouth. His hand cups your cheek, and you dig your hands into his hair.

When you finally pull away, you boop his nose and giggle, "Still embarrassed?" Bi Han just scoffs, topping you on the couchas he cages you with his arms.

Bi Han throws the blanket away from his body, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal his firm body.

"We'll see who's embarrassed after this."

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

Kuai Liang

You cuddled in close to Kuai Liang as you two watched an episode of Bridgerton season two. In order for you to prepare for season three, you decided to rewatch the other two seasons (plus Queen Charolette) to remind yourself where you were in the series.

Kuai Liang had just finished taking a shower, since he came home from work at the office with his brothers. He wasn't supposed to be seated here, his services were needed to make dinner, but here he was.

You giggled as you fed yourself popcorn from the huge bowl that sat in between your left leg and Kuai's right leg. While you were enjoying the show, Kuai Liang sat there an scrutinized every detail of the show.

You first watched the show by yourself, as Kuai Liang was busy doing his own thing. However, during this rewatch marathon of yours, he began to watch the show. It started with him standing from the kitchen, arms crossed as he examined everything in the show.

He knew he and his brothers acted similarly, but even twins are not a hundred percent the same (they aren't twins, just making a comparison). Unlike Bi Han, who was vocal on the cheesiness of the show, Kuai Liang remained silent and reserved. He wasn't completely emotionless, as he laughed during some parts that he found amusing.

What he didn't laugh at, though, was the raunchy scene between Kate and Anthony.

You watch the scene with wide and intense eyes, the characters leaving the ballroom only to meet under the gazebo of the Bridgerton backyard. The scene is filled with forbidden love, secrets, and the undying need to touch one another.

"I don't understand, they were dancing so well together, why are they mad?" He asks, genuinely perplexed at the change-up of the actors' feelings.

Ah, you forgot he didn't understand subtle acting. And the fact he asks many questions during these kinds of shows.

You squeal, gripping onto Kuai Liang's bicep as you explain the scene to him.

"Anthony is supposed to be hitting it off with Kate's little sister, but he doesn't like her like that. They danced together like that because Kate was trying to leave for India, to get away from him and his love..."

The scene suddenly changes, and both actors are all over each other as they dive into one another's mouths. The erotic sounds of their moans and groans fills the surround system of the T.V., and Kuai Liang finds himself uncomfortable at the sudden display of... hefty affection.

You scream, practically bursting his eardrum, but he finds it enjoyable because you're so excited.

Did he find the show predictable and boring? Yes.

Did he love you in your entirety? Even more yes.

And that trumps every other emotion he could ever feel towards this show.

As the characters kiss, Kuai just sits in contemplation at the media in front of him. Since when did media get to this point? He thinks, adjusting himself in his seat.

As much as he tries to remain calm and collected, his neck is slightly pink and warm to the touch. His palms also begin to sweat buckets, and you can see him rub his hands up and down his legs as he tries to wipe the signs of nervousness away.

You're gripping onto his bicep as you watch Kate and Anthony go at it like starving wolves, however his arm is a bit wet. You look up at your boyfriend and see his nervous face.

Cheeky ideas fill your mind as you watch Kuai Liang's furrowed brow, the sweat that crawling down his face, and his straight and pursed lips. You giggle as you look between the growing sensuality of the scene and Kuai Liang, finally piecing the puzzle together.

He was flushed, and all due to Hollywood screenwriting. Adorable.

You go snd sit on his lap, using your arm to wipe the sweat on his forehead (and using this opportunity). You chuckle at his preteen reaction to your show, squishing his cheeks as you tease him. He rolls his eyes as a joke, placing his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

"Hot and bothered over scripted sets?" you giggle some more. "The mighty Kuai Liang, downed by a simple love scene!"

Kuai Liang pulls you closer with one arm, and his other crawls to the back of your head as your nose and his almost touch. In his lap, you can feel the growing muscle in his crotch area, and suddenly you're reminded of your position in all of this.

You gulp nervously, and Kuai Liang plants a loving kiss on your forehead.

"We'll see who's high and mighty after this scene."

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

Tomas

Tomas doesn't remember watching a movie in his youth.

Before his family passed, movies were considered a luxury due to their economic status. Although adopted into a new family, movies were not really in the picture, either, since he was raised into supporting Bi Han alongside Kuai Liang.

It was through you he saw the beauty in movies, the cheesiness of Hollywood, and the talent of amazing screenwriters.

Through you, he saw horrific tales of slasher films, dramas of soap operas, even Hallmark. With more time, he discovered streaming shows thanks to your endless subscriptions.

He also realized how romance was your go-to genre, and how you were obsessed with Bridgerton at the very moment.

Was he just as attached as you? Yes.

He found the spin off much more endearing, since the chemistry between both actors felt so real. The script was amazing, not to mention he cried a bit.

Right now, you two were watching the spin off, Queen Charlotte, as it was the latest release before season 3.

You two stayed in your bedroom, as there was a TV inside. Cuddled close, you two had an assortment of snacks on top of a towel in between both of you.

You watched with a slack jaw and a palm full of cookies as the scene where the king and queen are in front of a fire, only in pajamas, and flirting heavily.

"Oh my goodness," you gasp as you turn to Tomas, who's a bit confused.

"What, my dear?" he asks, quirked brow and a perplexed face.

"It's the 'I'm good with buttons' scene!" you exclaim and shove a cookie in your mouth.

Tomas turns back to the screen and watches how the king slowly walks up to the queen, says the line, and slowly kisses her.

Cutely, Tomas raises his arms up to hide behind them, only peeking through his fingers to check. As he checks, the scene grows more and more haughty, and so does he.

Tomas is pink from neck to forehead, his hands covered his face completely, and he's got a raging boner in his pants. It wasn't the actress, no (though she is beautiful), it was the scene itself.

I mean, when did media do this?

As Tomas coughs to try and cool himself down, shifting in his seat, your head is turned to his attention. It's so obvious what he's trying to hide, and he isn't doing a good job either.

You scoot closer to him, nudging him with your elbow as you tease him.

"How many times have we watched movies like this, and you still get so flustered!" you tease him and he just groans as he tries to play it cool.

"Darling please," he whines as he turns away. "It's just so... explicit!"

You laugh as you kiss his hand that covers his face, "Come on, honey, it isn't that bad."

You pry his fingers off until his cute pink face in view. You giggle as you kiss his nose, then his cheek, settling into his lap as you do so.

You can feel his rock hard member locked away behind is pants, and both of you are trapped in an air of lust and wanting.

Tomas voices his wanting, using his newfound skills from the show.

"I'm just as good with button, if you want to test my skills."

=====================

EASY MONEY

guys my inbox is getting full i love this

okay see yall in the next fic!

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[iesnoth]

I was watching this review of the latest Miraculous Ladybug film, and the reviewer made a comment about how Marinette's mom must have really strong genes for her to look NOTHING like her dad.

Which gave me the idea for Big!Marinette. And I think she solves a lot of problems (or just pet peeves) with Marinette's character.

First, her initial unpopularity and low sense of self worth would make more sense (I know, skinny/petite people are self-conscious too... set that aside). Second, a teen girl going through aggressive growth spurts would be more physically awkward, having to quickly adapt to a rapidly changing body size. This would excuse some of her quirky TM tendencies. Third, a less conventionally attractive Marinette would take positive attention from Adrien very seriously, as she would be more intimidating to boys her age. Her belief that he could never be interested in her romantically would make more sense. Fourth, HARD Clark Kent/Superman vibes from her. More baggy clothes in her civilian life, because girls her size aren't catered to in fashion, while her Ladybug outfit is flattering. Perhaps the Miraculous even gives her superhuman strength and agility (I don't know, haven't watched since season 2), so she's not clumsy and thus confident in her body and strength. Intimidating villains (no longer hiding her size) would be empowering. The difference between Marinette and Ladybug would be much more vast.

Plus, there would be girljock/femboy vibes with Marinette and Adrien, which I love so much.

[holistic-girlhood]

1. Pinterest 📌

Your go-to inspo board for literally everything—whether it’s dreamy outfit ideas, aesthetic home decor, or that perfect DIY Sunday project. Just pin it, babe!

2. Shuffles by Pinterest 🎨

A mood board lover’s dream! Think Pinterest, but way cuter and more aesthetic—perfect for creating those vibey collages and manifesting your dream life in style.

3. Think Dirty 🧴

Wanna know if your skincare routine is actually clean? This app lets you scan beauty products and find out if they’re truly non-toxic or just faking it. Because healthy skin is always in!

4. YouCam Makeup 💄

Try on all the beauty looks without ever touching a makeup brush. From bold lips to fluttery lashes, this app lets you play around and find your next slay-worthy look.

5. FaceApp 😍

Because who doesn’t love a good glow-up? Enhance your selfies with flawless filters and cute edits that keep you looking fresh and fabulous with zero effort. And yes, gendee swap.

6. AI Mirror 🪞

Step into the future with AI-powered beauty edits that give your photos a little extra sparkle. Whether it’s face shaping or cute art filters, this app has your back.

7. DeepFace 🤳

For when you wanna play around with your look or see what you’d look like with different features—kinda fun, kinda mind-blowing, and totally addictive. HRT Future-Self? Check.

8. Peachy 🍑

Smooth, sculpt, and enhance your selfies like a pro! Perfect for those “I woke up like this” moments with just a little extra magic. Great for manifesting fitness goals.

9. Headspace 🧘‍♀️

Mental wellness but make it cute. Meditation, mindfulness, and sleep sounds that help you stay chill and balanced—because stress is so last season.

10. MyFitnessPal 🥗

Whether you’re tracking your macros or just trying to hit your hydration goals, this app is like your personal health BFF, cheering you on every step of the way.

11. Bumble 🐝

Dating, networking, and making friends—because girls make the first move, always. Whether you’re looking for love or new connections, Bumble’s got you covered.

12. Grindr 🌈

This app is the ultimate go-to for making connections and finding your people. Keep it flirty, fun, and fabulous!

13. Notion 📖

Your life’s personal assistant in app form. From planning your goals to organizing your aesthetic workspace, Notion is where productivity meets perfection.

14. YNAB (You Need A Budget) 💸

Because being financially savvy is so chic. Track your spending, plan your goals, and stay in control of your money—hello, future boss babe energy!

15. IMDb 🎬

Never miss a pop culture moment again! Stay in the know with the latest movie and TV tea, celeb news, and must-watch recommendations.

16. Netflix 🍿

Binge-watch your fave shows, discover new obsessions, and chill in style—because self-care sometimes means a glass of rosé and a really good series.

17. Spotify 🎧

Your life needs a soundtrack, babe. Whether it’s a workout jam, chill vibes, or your fave throwback hits, Spotify’s got the playlist for every mood.

18. Home Design 3D 🏡

Time to channel your inner interior designer! Visualize your dream space and play around with layouts and decor—all without lifting a paintbrush.

19. Cozi Family Organizer 🗂️

Perfect for keeping your life (and maybe your squad’s lives) totally together. From grocery lists to schedules, it’s organization with a side of chic.

20. Tasty 🍳

Quick, easy, and insanely delicious recipes at your fingertips. Whether you’re cooking for yourself, your man or hosting your besties, Tasty makes you look like a kitchen queen.

21. Airbnb ✈️

Weekend getaway? Girls’ trip? Solo adventure? Find the most aesthetic stays and experiences that are so worth the Instagram post.

22. Co–Star ✨

Your daily astrology fix with some seriously spot-on insights into your personality, relationships, and life path. Warning: It might read you for filth, but you’ll love it.

23. My Moon Phase 🌙

Stay in sync with the moon’s energy and plan your life around the lunar cycle. Perfect for when you wanna manifest, release, or just vibe with the universe.

[ilikekidsshows]

After watching the latest seasons, I'll be honest: I don't think Marinette is that different from one of Adrien's crazy fans. I know the show wants us to believe she truly loves him for him, but they never really show this. Five seasons later, she still puts him high on her pedestal as the most perfect person ever, only gives reasons like he's nice and pretty for why she likes him, is openly annoyed with his other personality as Chat Noir, and doesn't think he's capable enough to make his own choices about his life and has to be coddled.

---

Yeah, like, the show insists they're made for each other and soulmates but, rather than give them fun chemistry like they had in the original seasons, they just have characters say Marinette's love for Adrien is totally different and more pure. The show, due to how badly its main romance is written, implying things like “Marinette objectifies Adrien but she does it out of love so that makes it okay!” are exactly why I’ve started viewing Adrinette as the “are the straights okay?” ship. The people defending what this ship has become say some absolutely bonkers stuff is what I'm saying.

A big underlying problem that causes this, even before the retool exacerbated it, is that Miraculous is both a love story and a wacky comedy. The Miraculous writers feel the need to focus on Marinette’s crush a lot, but also to include wacky comedy hijinks. Because of this, Marinette's love for Adrien gets played for wacky comedy hijinks more than it gets depicted actually seriously, so we can't take it seriously. When something can't be taken seriously, it comes across as really shallow.

Miraculous has a tone problem that’s only gotten worse the longer it's gone on. The same things get treated as sources of comedy that are also supposed to be the emotional core of the story, sometimes within the same episode. The series almost simultaneously expects the audience to laugh at the things that are also supposed to be the reason to even care about what happens. I’m surprised it isn't causing people emotional whiplash.

But, like, that's the problem with the writing being consistent about the wrong things. The elements that are supposed to be comedic are also present in scenes we’re supposed to take seriously. That’s how we get Marinette trying to defend Adrien against her grandmother simplifying him as just “pretty”, but Marinette can't come up with anything else about him she's attracted to. Is this supposed to be a hilarious joke? Like, are we supposed to laugh that Marinette can't tell her grandmother why she loves her boyfriend, the endgame romantic partner of this series?

Miraculous' idea of comedy and humor ruins its romance, and, when it's not the comedy, it's the cheap drama that makes Marinette look like a terrible human being when she's supposed to be an aspirational hero. It makes it hard to get invested in its main couple or sympathize with its main hero, the two things that are necessary to enjoy the story the writers want to tell. The fans have to be willing to do all the work and go “I can tell what the writers are trying to do, so I’ll do my best to view the story the way they want me to”, but, like, we can only tell what the writers are trying to do because we've seen better shows than Miraculous that do these things well. Why should Miraculous' writers get credit for not only being subpar, but failing so utterly they depict the opposite of what they intended? What good things have they actually given us that warrants this much leeway?

Especially when the small kids watching won't have a deeper understanding of genre conventions to tell them “the writers are trying to break conventions and aren't replacing them with sensical story decisions and that makes the story fail so much”, they can just see the bad morals and either reject or internalize what Abuse Apologia the Show is teaching them. And, like, considering how much abuse apologia this show’s and it's hero’s most insistent defenders are spouting, I’m not sure even all of the older kids or the adults in the audience can tell that this show's morals are rancid and should be rejected.

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby Social Media Blurb

Spooky Season Recap

Originally Auston suggested you go as yourselves to the team Halloween party.

All it took was one girl wearing a look similar to one of your concert outfits with a mic and her boyfriend in a leafs jersey for it to become a trend this Halloween.

You automatically shut the idea down.

And instead you show up as Linguini (Auston) and Remy (you) from ratatouille.

Which is iconic bc a week before a popular hockey blog said you’re controlling everything Auston does.

You and Auston agreed at the beginning of the night you would have a few drinks and that’s it.

You both were delusional because you end up being the drunkest.

You blame it on Auston because he kept challenging everyone to beer pong.

He blames it on you because “If you were better at throwing, we wouldn’t have drank so much.”

You end the night on the kitchen floor, giggling as you eat candy and make fun of each other for how drunk the other is.

The next night which is actually Halloween was supposed to be spent curled up on the couch watching movies, but John and Aryn want to take the kids trick or treating so they ask you to house sit and hand out candy while they’re out.

You happily agree, excited for the excuse to wear another costume.

You let Auston choose and he decided to be Carl, you got to be Russel and Felix was Doug.

You and Auston sit on the front porch, felix in between you, handing out candy.

Lots of families ask for pictures and autographs. Your favorite costumes were the kids that were dressed up as you.

They may or may not have screamed, cried, and one kid even threw up from excitement.

(y/f/n) (y/l/n) and Auston Matthews Relationship Under Fire

The larger-than-life relationship between Toronto Maple Leafs Captain, Auston Matthews and musician (y/f/n) (y/l/n) has been all the talk in mainstream media and sports discourse alike. However, many fans are upset with recent comments made by NHL commentator, Mark Rosario and have claimed that the conversation has gone too far.

The Penalty Box, is a panel of five NHL commentators on ESPN. The panel usually discusses the latest games and the players that make it possible. However, the discussion on Sunday evenings segment took a turn.

Mark Rosario, one of five hosts didn’t hold back when sharing his thoughts about the Toronto Maple Leafs season thus far. Rosario began the discussion by questioning the legitimacy of Auston’s captaincy of the Leafs, saying, “It’s easy to be named captain when your girlfriend is the biggest celebrity in the world and your team is profiting off of it.” Since going public with their relationship, in person attendance at Leafs games has doubled while viewers at home has almost tripled. While the team was already popular, many attribute the new widespread interests to (y/l/n).

“Regardless of what team you support, her attachment to the NHL has brought on millions of new viewers who would’ve never been interested otherwise. She’s made the sport more popular than ever and we should all be capitalizing on that.” Russel Brewer, another host spoke up. Rosario, however, didn’t waver, “I disagree, I think her presence will not only be detrimental to the Leafs organization, but to Auston Matthews, specifically. No other team will take them seriously and they sure as hell won’t take him seriously as a captain.” Rosario shrugs continuing, “Ya know that kids movie with the rat that can cook and he’s controlling the guy by pulling his hair, that’s how I view (y/f/n) (y/l/n) and Auston Matthews relationship.”

While, Rosario has yet to issue an apology, it’s safe to say his commentary had no influence on Leafs fans as they continued to show up and show out.

@yourusername: 🐭 & 👨‍🍳

Load more comments…

Fan#1: this is iconic!

Fan#2: Y’all won fr

Mitchmarner: PARENTS

->Fan#3: Mommy? I mean, Daddy? I mean

->Fan#4: I want both of them

Fan#5: Just fell to my knees 😮‍💨

->@yourbff#1: Me too

Fan#6: she’s an icon, she’s a legend, she’s a star and she is the moment

Fan#5: Yo I would be so embarrassed if I was Mark Rosario

->Fan#6: He can go ahead and hand in that resignation letter now

@Mapleleafs: That’s our captain!

Fan#7: You ate with this one queen

Fan#8: She is THAT girl

->Fan#9: And they are THAT couple

->Fan#10: At least Rosario got that much right

Fan#11: @NHL, you better be compensating our girl, she’s giving y’all so much content

->Fan#12: LITERALLY! she’s got the girls fighting on national tv

->Fan#13: lmfao, imagine being so powerful you’ve got grown men talking about you

Fan#14: my favorite thing is you know after the show, Mark Rosario got in his car to drive home and had to listen to her on the radio

->Fan#15: Bruh, I know he was pissed flipping through those stations hearing her on all of them

->Fan#16: honestly I would’ve crashed out if I was him

@Austonmatthews: pls control me

->@Yourusername: since you asked so nicely…

->Fan#17: I just know they are freaky

->Fan#18: why am I blushing?! 🤭

->Fan#19: I feel like we’re interrupting

->@Williamnylander: me next 🙋

->@Yourusername: A dream come true 😉

->@Yourbff#2: THIS ^^^ is diabolical

->@Yourbff#1: You know this comment section is public right?

->@Austonmatthews: gtfo 😤

->@Mitchmarner: Can I be after Willy?

->@Yourusername: As long as you bring Steph

->@Mitchmarner: Done.

Fan#20: We’re about to have a swinger scandal

->@Fan#21: The Secret Lives of NHL Wives

[writeplace-wrongtime]

The Bet

*cracks knuckles* fine, I'll do it myself.

Okay but seriously, I've only binge watched the first 6 seasons of criminal minds, so I'm probably a bit off with character personalities.

This turned into mostly the team finding out, so if anyone wants a part 2 with more scenes pre-reveal I'd love to write it!

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 3k

CW// brief mention of kidnapping case, use of y/n (i'm sorry), not beta'd

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

‘When was the last time you saw Hotch leave before the rest of us?’

The most recent case had been a relatively short one, allowing the team to get back to Quantico reasonably early. A young man caught kidnapping local women, caught easily when he appeared on CCTV taking his latest victim. Three women, three days. All had minor injuries, but all were alive. It had been the ideal end to the case and no loss of life meant the paperwork was minimal.

Emily’s voice caught the attention of Derek, who followed her gaze to the elevator, where the Unit Chief stood waiting. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think back on the last few months of late nights, week-long cases and multiple middle of the night calls.

‘Not since before his divorce,’ Spencer piped up helpfully from behind his desk, packing away the days half-finished reports and case notes before he too looked up. ‘Hey, has anyone seen y/l/n? They mentioned going for food on the jet, and I know this really nice Indian restaurant not far from here, I was going to suggest we all go.’

Now that Emily thought about it, she hadn’t seen you after you’d gone to Hotch’s office to drop off your report. Barely five minutes later, Hotch had made a beeline for the elevator, leaving unusually early compared to normal, and then you too had disappeared.

‘Holy shit.’ The dots were connecting in her head. ‘They’re totally hooking up!’

This gathered the full attention of everyone in the room.

‘Who’s hooking up?’ Penelope had her bag in hand as she peeked in the door, drawn to the gossip like a moth to a flame.

‘Y/l/n and Hotch!’

‘Oh my god!’ Penelope was quick to rush over to the group now huddled around Emily’s desk.

‘No way,’ Derek was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. They’d been working as a team for years, there’s no way you and Hotch were in a secret relationship, and no one had noticed. ‘Come on, you really think they could have hidden something like that from us?’

Spencer shrugged, joining the conversation fully. ‘Hotch hid the fact that Emily was alive from all of us for months, so a secret relationship wouldn’t be that hard for him.’ Emily grimaced at the comparison, searching for any hint of bitterness in his tone, though found none. He had been hurt that they hadn’t trusted him to know the secret, but that hurt had faded over the couple years since Emily had returned. He offered her an apologetic smile, as if only realising what he’d said.

‘Want to make this more interesting?’ Quick to bring the conversation back to inane office gossip, Emily reached into her bag to pull out her purse. ‘100 dollars they��re doing it.’

‘Oh, you’re on. 100 they’re not.’ Derek placed two fifties on top of Emily’s two. Another two went down, and they both looked up to see Spencer sheepishly tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘I think they’ve been dating for a couple weeks now, I assumed everyone else had noticed.’

Quickly, Penelope had joined, and much to everyone’s surprise, so did Rossi. Penelope thought they’d just started dating, and Rossi thought it had been at least six months. JJ scooped up the cash, promising to be a neutral party to assure the winner got the whole lot. Plus, when this inevitably went wrong, she did not want to be involved in the fallout.

‘Okay, but how do we get them to admit-‘

‘Or not admit,’ Derek cut in.

‘Or not admit, what’s going on?’ Emily mused. Everyone’s eyes instantly went to Penelope.

‘Oh no, no, no-‘

Penelope’s office felt quite cramped with some many people in it, the space only meant to house one technical analyst, not one technical analyst and five nosey special agents. Five nosey agents who were all huddled around Penelope to peer at the screen over her shoulders.

‘Oh it does not feel right tracking their phones like this,’ Penelope’s fingers danced across the keys as she brought up both locations, ‘My powers should only be used for good, not- not snooping on our friends personal lives!’ Still, she let the trace run its course, displaying the address for the others to see.

‘That’s Hotch’s apartment.’ Spencer recognised the address immediately. Two little dots blinked on the screen, Hotch’s address hovering above them.

‘So they’re together, that doesn’t mean they’re hooking up.’ Derek knew his argument was weak, but hell he had 100 dollars riding on it.

‘Oh come on, they sneak out and go to Hotch’s apartment and you think they’re what, making cookies?’

‘Kids, stop fighting,’ Dave put a hand on both Derek and Emily’s shoulders. ‘Why don’t you just phone y/l/n, invite them for food, see what happens.’

‘You think they’d lie to us?’ Spencer asked, as Penelope pulled out her phone and dialled your number.

‘They’ve been lying to us about this for weeks, if you’re bet is right anyway,’ Emily nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

‘Technically it’s an omission not a lie, since none of us directly asked if they’re-‘

‘Shhh its ringing!’ The room fell to silence as Penelope put her phone to her ear.

~

Even though it had been a short case, you had been looking forward to getting back. And by how quickly Aaron had offered up his apartment for a movie night, he had been too. It was important to keep a clear line between boss and boyfriend while in the field, and it was only professional to stay in separate rooms during cases, so it felt good to have Aaron back in boyfriend mode, with comforting touches and quality time away from the office, away from the titles and roles that accompanied your positions at the BAU.

You had finished your report in record time. It was pure luck that everyone was too caught up in their own work to notice you slipping away. After dropping your report on Aaron’s desk, you had made a quick exit, waiting by Aaron’s car until he joined you in the car park. It had become routine to leave short gaps between your arrivals and exits, allowing the illusion that you had travelled separately, from different apartments, in different cars. It was a short ride back to his apartment.

You had only just settled back against Aaron’s side, a bowl of popcorn perched between your thighs when your phone buzzed.

‘Hey beautiful, where’d you run off to?’ Penelope’s sweet voice rang out from the other end of the line, ‘We’re going for food, you coming with?’

You glanced sideways at Aaron, who kept his eyes on the TV, though you knew he was listening in by the way his arm tensed around you. You gently squeezed the arm closest to you, relaxing further into his hold so he knew you weren’t planning on leaving.

‘Sorry Pen, not tonight, I’m, uh, not feeling great after today’s case…’ You trailed off, hoping she’d accept the excuse and you’d be home free. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. There was pause, and you could’ve sworn you could hear hushed conversation. Must’ve been the rest of the team packing up to leave. You felt almost guilty that they were still at the office, when you’d left as soon as your own report was done.

‘Oh honey!’ Her voice was laced with sympathy, ‘That’s it, we’ll bring the food to you! Nothing like good food and company to cheer up the soul!’ Your head fell back against Aaron’s chest with more force than necessary. Curse her and her kindness.

‘No, no it’s okay, really-‘ You tried to prevent your voice from giving away your panic, ‘No need to go out of your way! Tell the guys I said enjoy!’

‘Its not out of our way at all! See you in twenty, gorgeous.’ The line went dead before you had a chance to respond. You could feel the vibrations of Aaron’s quiet laugh behind you, tilting your head back to look up at him.

‘You think this funny?’ Your words were pointed, but the smile on your lips gave away your hidden amusement. In lieu of an answer, he leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, the side of your neck, anywhere he could reach. You savoured the warmth of his lips against your skin, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as the kisses became more heated. Tilting your head back to give him easier access, you let out a disappointed whine when he instead detached from you, gently pushing you up until you were sitting straight.

‘They’re going to be at your apartment soon,’ He reminded you, giving your arm a squeeze before moving to stand. Your cheeks were flushed red, taking a few steadying breaths as he took the popcorn from your lap, placing it on the coffee table, before holding his hands out to you. Shooting him a mock glare, you resigned yourself to getting off the comfortable couch and getting your shoes on. As much as you loved your co-workers, so much that they were practically family, you really did not want to spend the evening with them, not when you could be curled up on the couch with Aaron, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

‘Shit,’ You nearly tripped over your untied laces in your hurry to turn, ‘My car’s still at the office, Aaron I don’t have time to get back there, get my car AND-‘ Your words were halted by the soft press of his lips on yours. Clearly, you weren’t the only one wishing you could stay. Melting against him, your hands found purchase on the solid expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft material of his t-shirt. He pulled back, just far enough so he could press his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll drive,’ His voice was quiet in the minimal space between you, ‘Tell them your car broke down and I offered you a lift home.’ You just hummed your agreement, too caught up in his closeness to really be paying full attention. Overwhelming warmth encompassed you as you breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, trying to catalogue the feeling in your mind as your panic disappeared with the gentlest of touches.

‘Or,’ You offered mildly, blinking up at him through your lashes, ‘We could just turn our phones off, lock the door, and deal with all of this tomorrow?’ Soft open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the column of his throat in between your words, hands climbing to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingertips teased the baby hairs at the base of his skull. You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer, even when his hands gripped at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he once again claimed your lips with his.

 It had been a tough decision, keeping the relationship from your team, but you had both ultimately decided that it was for the best, at least while things were still new. Then, six weeks had turned into six months, and six months into nearly a year. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a secret, and you nearly wanted the team to catch on. You’d met Jessica, and had a proper introduction to Jack, even going so far as to have gone to a few of his soccer practices at Jack’s insistence. You had been slowly moving your stuff into his room, small things like toiletries, pyjamas and a few spare work outfits. You spent more time at Aaron’s apartment than your own. You loved it. What you didn’t love, was having to hide it all from your friends.

‘We really should go,’ Aaron murmured against your lips, ‘At least you’ll get free food out of this.’

You laughed softly at that, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back, cheeks dusted pink. ‘I’d rather have you.’ A rare boyish grin was your only response, before he turned to grab his keys and you quickly tied your laces. You were soon on the familiar road home.

 ~

They didn’t wait around to see if you were rushing from Hotch’s apartment, instead piling into the back of Derek’s car haphazardly. All but JJ, who had familial responsibilities, and Rossi who just wanted to go home, managed to fit into one SUV.  If Rossi had been with them to take some of the blame, Derek might’ve even thrown on the sirens and lights. Instead, he skipped through a few orange lights, and just barely stuck to the speed limits. When they arrived at the Indian restaurant, Spencer was sent to pick up the order, being deemed least likely to do something stupid like flash his badge for quicker service. Emily followed him inside to help carry it all back to the car. Even without the badge, they managed to make it in and out in under ten minutes. Luck was on their side, getting them to your apartment just 25 minutes after Penelope had hung up on you.

When they came to a stop outside your apartment complex, your car wasn’t parked in its normal spot, and they had a moment of celebration before Spencer realised the light was on inside. A light that meant you had beat them.

They all had to hide their disappointment when you greeted them at the door, not showing any sign of having rushed from one apartment to the other. Being one of the closer apartments to the office, yours was often used as a base for nights out, girl’s nights, and team movie-nights. It was the team’s apartment more than it had ever been just yours. Moving seamlessly through your kitchen grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses, Emily and Penelope set to organising the food, while Spencer and Derek moved your coffee table to the centre of the room so everyone could sit around it. It warmed you to know they felt at home here.

‘I’ll have to get someone to look at it tomorrow,’ You sounded morose enough that Emily almost believed your “car trouble” story. She just hummed her commiserations before stealing some chicken from your Jalfrezi. As much as she’d hoped to catch you and Hotch in your lie – or omission as Spencer would remind her – she enjoyed spending time with you, and this had been the perfect excuse for a team night.

‘Hotch didn’t stick around after dropping you off?’ Emily asked casually, scooping up a mouthful of curry with the edge of a poppadom. If you noticed the groups sudden interest in your conversation you didn’t show it. You shook your head, pushing the thought of his hands on your waist and his lips on your skin, out of your mind.

‘He was just being nice, he probably has better things to be doing after a case than hanging out here.’

Derek had to hide his laugh with a cough. You frowned at him, but before you could question it, Emily dragged you back into a conversation about Sergio and how he stole her bagel the other day. She glared at Derek when you weren’t looking. Conversation flowed easily after that, and it wasn’t long before everyone was on their second helping of food and the booze cupboard had been ransacked.

‘Hey babygirl, you seeing what I’m seeing?’ Derek had just sat back down with his second full plate when he spotted it; the start of your downfall. He nudged Penelope, nodding his head toward you. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before rising nearly to her hairline. A sharp “oh my god” left her lips, before she covered her mouth. Just beneath the edge of your oversized t-shirt, a small red mark was blooming on your skin. It looked suspiciously like a hickey. A very, very new one at that. Penelope’s little outburst was quickly noted by Emily, who paused mid-conversation to notice what they had. Her shit-eating grin matched Derek’s perfectly.   

‘What?’ You frowned at her, quickly glancing at Spencer opposite you. He shrugged, offering no help.

‘Maybe Hotch stuck around for a little while after all?’ There was a teasing lilt to her tone as she reached out to tug your collar a little lower. You could feel heat rising up your neck into your cheeks, a beautiful shade of crimson. Covering the offending mark with your hand, you tried to come up with an excuse. Nothing came. Opening your mouth and then closing it a few times, you tried to look anywhere but at your friends. You were caught and you knew it. They knew it too.

‘Is there any point in me saying I burnt myself?’ You tried for a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

‘Nope.’ Emily said, popping the “p”.

‘Aaron and I, we, uh…’ You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your blush darkening, as Penelope mouthed “Aaron!” at Emily, who practically giggled. You were going to have to restock your alcohol cupboard before they came round again. You took a breath, glancing around the room. All eyes were on you.

 ‘We’re dating.’

There was an immediate outburst of “oh my god!”s and “I knew it!”s. You had expected to feel awful when your secret was finally out in the open, but all you could feel was relief. Well, and a tinge of embarrassment. Warmth bubbled in your chest, looking around the room at your team, your family, knowing you didn’t have to hide it from them anymore.

‘What ya thinking about over there?’ Emily nudged your arm, a small tendril of guilt creeping through her. You’d obviously wanted to spend your evening with Hotch, and instead they’d dragged you away in a hurry, all just to invade your privacy. A small grin broke through your façade.

‘I’m thinking, seeing as it’s not a secret anymore, I can leave you losers and go back to spending the night with my boyfriend.’ A chorus of cheers followed your words, and someone (you suspected Emily) shouted “Go get some, girl!”.

Spencer wrinkled his nose at that. ‘Gross, remember that’s Hotch we’re taking about, he’s pretty much our work dad.’ His words caused a laugh to bubble in your chest, and you leaned over Emily to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Guess that makes me your new work-mom!’ He made a big show of wiping your kiss from his cheek, but the small smile that followed gave away his charade.

‘What are you waiting for beautiful? Your man is waiting for you!’ Your wide grin echoed Penelope’s as she ushered you up and out of the living room. Your overnight gear was already at Aaron’s, so all you needed was your shoes and phone. You felt almost giddy as you threw the spare key to Spencer.

‘Don’t stay up too late kiddos!’

‘Hey, hold on a second,’ You glanced at Derek, who had started stacking plates to take to the kitchen, ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh… Y’know, only about 11… months.’ You shot them an abashed smile, before darting for the door as all hell broke loose.

‘You didn’t win the bet either!’ Emily and Derek’s argument floated out the door with you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Of course they had bet on it. You didn’t have it in you to care, instead shutting the door with a sound click. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you dialled Aaron’s number.

‘Hey handsome,’ You couldn’t help the smile that carried through in your words, ‘You want to finish that movie?’

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

It's raining jql! Hang onto your butts because this is a jam-packed post. We now have three shows airing weekly on Gaga, plus several fan subbers making our dreams come true. What a time to be alive.

Takara's Treasure

I love them, your honor. This show is from the same directing and screenwriting team as Our Dining Table, so it should come as no surprise that the characters immediately endeared themselves to me. Taishin is a lonely boy still mourning the death of his beloved pet bird and latching on to the senior who was kind to him in his low moment. Takara is a reserved tsundere who seems a bit taken aback by this weird kid who followed him to university, but Taishin's sincerity and gentleness is working on him already. It doesn't hurt that Taishin is not faking his interest in the things Takara loves, that boy is an amateur botanist. This one is going to be so much fun, and almost certainly make me cry. Can't wait!

I Hear the Sunspot

These two already own my heart. I loved that we took the time to get to know Kohei better at this early stage and understand how isolated and excluded he has felt since he began experiencing hearing loss. He needed someone loud and straightforward and unapologetic like Taichi to barrel into his life and pull him back out of his shell again. I was so relieved when Taichi confronted him immediately about his avoidance and cleared up the idea that he only wants to see him when he's being fed. The joy I felt seeing Kohei laugh and finally relax and play a simple game of basketball with his peers was immense. I could gaze at his smiling face all day.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Holy shit, I love this show! We begin our story with a makeover, and it only gets better from there. Adapted from a manga, this is an age gap office romance between an experienced lesbian and the purportedly straight junior who is in love with her. Hiroko is everyone's favorite boss at work, but she keeps her private life separate, so her colleagues have no idea she spends her nights at the local lesbian bar or that before work got so busy, she was a consummate party girl. Ayaka fell for her after an act of kindness, and she is on a mission to get Hiroko to take her seriously, but her perceived straightness is getting in the way. Shenanigans ensue! This show is charming as hell and so genuinely funny, and Hiroko is an instant fav.

Bonus: Ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka

Episode 9 has is now available on @isaksbestpillow's blog, and besties, Daichi and Madoka are getting married!!! The way I lost my entire shit when this happened, you have no idea. I was carrying on so much I had @bengiyo worried something terrible happened, but THE VERY BEST THING HAPPENED.

Ahem. This was another fantastic episode! Makoto accompanied Mika to the Random show, where he developed his very own bias and a newfound respect for the power of kpop. Mika got to share the story of how her fandom saved her in a low moment, Moe and Makoto had a heart to heart about her lack of desire for romantic partnership and the expectations he should let go of, and the entire family is getting along so much better than we could have dreamed a few short months ago. And just as the fam was headed out for parfaits, Daichi appeared and expressed his own desire for a family, Madoka took the hint from the universe and proposed, and we all collectively held our breath and cried and cheered when Daichi said yes. What a fantastic show, I really cannot believe this drama exists.

Bonus: Zettai BL 3

And to complete this week's fan subs, @ikeoji-subs has begun posting A Man Who Defies the World of BL 3. Head here to find the latest, and if this is the first you're hearing of this series, mosey over to Gaga or Viki to watch parts 1 and 2 first! The episodes will be dropping over the next week or so, and I will share more complete thoughts about the season once they're out!

[hellfiresky]

In the drip of the moment

Summary: In a leaky underworld apartment, you and Fox share cup noodles.

Pairing: Fox x GN!Reader Word count: 2633 Warnings: swearing

Illustration: TCW and Cyberpunk 2077

Crack treated seriously based on a chat with @orangez3st. Thanks for the idea, vod!

--------------------------------

It wasn’t rain. Not really.

But here, on the uppermost floor of your apartment building in Gavas-Eclat, a harsh neighbourhood in Level 3215, the underworld’s so-called "rainy season" might as well be a full-blown monsoon. The pipes in the structures overhead groaned and rattled, letting loose a deluge of runoff that hammered your roof. Leaks sprouted like weeds, dripping incessantly into the buckets and pans scattered around your apartment.

"CYARE!" Fox’s voice rang out from the bedroom. "THIS PART IS LEAKING AGAIN. FUCKING HELL, GRAB A BUCKET!"

You sighed, abandoning your attempt to shuffle another set of towels around the already waterlogged floor. The storage closet offered a lone bucket, battered from years of service. You grabbed it and made your way to Fox, whose patience seemed to be hanging by a thread.

"I told you it was going to get worse!" you called as you walked to the bedroom.

"I didn’t think the whole damn level would spring a leak!" Fox stomped into view, a soggy towel thrown over one shoulder and an empty caf mug dangling from his fingers. Half of his black undershirt was drenched, whilst his trousers were rolled up to his knees. “Please tell me you still have the nice caf. I can’t for the life of me go down to your apartment lobby and buy that shitty vending machine caf. Babe, you know how terrible that stuff is. It’s all sugar.”

“First of all, it’s not a leak - it’s a waterfall,” you corrected, pointing to the stream now pouring from the ceiling. "Don’t think a bucket’s gonna cut it. Second, new beans are in the second-to-right drawer in the kitchen. Grind it yourself.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, cyare? Patch the whole damn underworld?” He shoved the bucket under the latest torrent. “I hate this level. I hate it here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Could be worse. At least this time it’s not raining some gas runoff or—”

“Don’t. Don’t even finish that thought,” he snagged his already-cold caf pot from the counter. “And you’re insane if you think I’m grinding beans in the middle of this fucking waterfall. I should’ve stayed at HQ. At least that place only smells like bantha shit half the time.”

Despite a fresh leak appearing alarmingly close to where he was standing, he poured what little caf remained into his mug, grimacing as he noticed the new wet spot on the ceiling. You were almost certain it was the eighth or ninth cup he’d downed today, but you didn’t have the heart to mention it. Or maybe you just enjoyed watching him spiral into caffeinated madness. “You’re so needy,” you sat on one of the kitchen counters, arguably the driest patch of the room. “Come on, Fox. Where’s that Marshal Commander efficacy? Surely you’ve got a strategy for this.”

“Strategy?” he repeated. “You want a strategy? Here’s my strategy: burn this fucking apartment down and collect the insurance. Problem solved.”

You gasped in horror. “Fox!”

“Oh, come on, like you haven’t thought about it,” he slammed his mug onto the counter with unnecessary force. "Why’d you even pick this shithole anyway? You could’ve at least chosen a level that doesn’t come with its own weather system.”

“It was cheap,” you said with a shrug, opening a jar of biscuits you’d bought from the corner shop run by a nice Ithorian lady in your building. You extended the jar to him, and his eyes lit up as he eagerly grabbed a handful of biscuits. “And I didn’t think my boyfriend would be over here complaining about caf and leaks every other day. Nobody asked you to come down here anyway, cyare.”

Months of dating had made you an expert at reading the man beside you. The way he leaned against the counter, sipping his caf whilst simultaneously munching on at least three biscuits, told you he was no longer upset. Fox was like a tooka, almost. Feed him, give him something to drink, and he’d settle down. It always amused you how much he loathed the Underworld, yet he still made the effort to come down to your apartment every other day. He knew the trek to the surface level was a hassle for you, and though he’d never admit it to you, he cared enough to make it easier. You watched him, an involuntary smile stretched on your face as he stared blankly ahead, a biscuit in one hand and his caf in the other. Just as you found yourself admiring the rare moment of peace, a fresh drip from the ceiling landed squarely on his shoulder. His scowl returned in full force as muttered a string of curses.

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, brushing at the wet spot, “someone’s gotta keep an eye on you before this whole fucking building collapses.”

“Just admit it, babe,” you leaned towards his direction with a playful smirk. “You prefer being down here with me instead of in your sterile private quarters up there. For stars’ sake, the last time I stayed at your place, I thought I woke up in a medbay. Do you even own a single decoration? A plant? A poster? Anything?”

You gave him a light sideways punch to his shoulder, earning a low chuckle from him. It was rare to hear him laugh - most days, he was all work and discipline - but when it happened, it was like seeing the actual sunlight in 3215. “Decorate?” he echoed. “Cyare, I’m a soldier, not a fucking interior designer. What do you expect me to do? String up fairy lights and start collecting throw pillows?”

“Well, a few cushions and maybe a rug wouldn’t kill you. I don’t know, a holo-photo of the boys maybe? Something to make it look like an actual human being lives there.”

He snorted before taking another sip of his caf. “I live there just fine without all that junk. But sure, I’ll pick out a nice floral print just for you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t even like flowers,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. It was cute, really. He knew you hated flowers - they always reminded you of funerals. Instead, in lieu of flowers, Fox had developed a habit of giving you snacks from the Coruscant Guard vending machines. And not just any snacks. It was always the most ridiculous, random thing he could find! Neon-coloured jelly that you swore had some kind of caffeine in it, off-brand dried nerf strips, or those spicy crackers that nobody but him seemed to like. He always acted like it was no big deal, handing them to you every time you went out together or whenever he came down to stay at your place. He’d casually say, “Found this on patrol,” as if he hadn’t gone out of his way to snag them.

You grinned at the thought. “Honestly, I think I’d be more freaked out if you did show up with floral prints. Stick to your weird snacks - make a basket full of them.”

“Like a mini bar situation?” He turned his head towards you. 

“Yeah, maybe with some drinks, and fruits, or whatever,” you shrugged as you grabbed a biscuit from the jar. “You could even paint that bedside table of yours red - it’d be a great pop of colour amidst all that sterile white.”

Fox snorted but looked thoughtful as he pushed off the cabinet and stood in front of you, hands resting on the countertop where you were sitting, right beside your thighs. “Funny you mention that. I actually saw a nice cabinet while I was patrolling around Calocour Heights the other day.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised your eyebrows. “What kind?”

“It was one of those, uh… modular things,” he gestured vaguely with one hand, the other still steady on the counter. “Real sleek, real clean. Bright red, with these glossy panels that fit together like a puzzle. The whole thing looked like it belonged in one of those fancy apartments topside - like it could double as art or something. It had compartments for everything! Drinks, snacks, gear, even these little hidden drawers you could lock. Thought it might actually make my quarters look less like a medbay.”

You tilted your head as you tried to picture it. “Huh. Sleek, red, functional, and versatile? Sounds like your soulmate, Fox.”

He lowered his gaze to the floor, chuckling as he shook his head lightly. “Yeah, well, the romance died when I looked at the price tag.”

“How bad?”

“Let’s just say,” he narrowed his eyes, “if I wanted that thing, I’d have to sell my speeder - which is a Republic property, my armour, and maybe half the Guard’s refectory rations for a month. And even then, I’d still be short.” He paused before facing you with a grin. “Or maybe I could sell Grizzer, and face Hound’s wrath.” 

You laughed, nearly choking on your biscuit. “For a cabinet? Stars, Fox, that’s next-level.”

“Exactly,” he joined your laughter. “Because what I really need in my life is debt over some shiny red furniture.”

“Shame,” you squeezed his cheeks together. “You’d look good with a fancy cabinet. It’d go great with your style.”

“But if it keeps you from staying down here in this death trap of an apartment, I might actually consider it.” He leaned forward to get closer to you. From this distance, you could catch the bitter scent of caf on his breath. You lifted a hand, fingers tousling his curls as you let out a bright smile. “Oh, so that’s it? You’re secretly hoping to bribe me into moving topside?”

“Bribe? I’d call it... strategic persuasion.” He gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m a tactical genius.” 

You laughed as you playfully shoved his shoulder. “That would’ve been a hell of a flex. Commander Fox’s quarters featured in one of those interior design videos on the HoloNet. And the best feature? The overengineered snack holder.” Fox grinned, arms crossed with that smug look you had come to love plastered on his face. “Damn right. ‘State-of-the-art compartments for your snacks and fancy caf beans.’ I’d probably go viral.”

“Oh, for sure,” you joined his sarcasm. “People would flock to see the legendary Commander Fox and his impeccable taste in mid galactic modern design.”

“You’re not wrong. I’ve got fans everywhere.” His grin widened as he added with mock seriousness. “Have you seen those ladies lining up near the Senate Building? They’re all lining up to meet me,”

A belly laugh burst out of you, so sudden and loud you had to clutch your stomach. “Those old ladies?!” you managed between fits of laughter. “You can’t be serious!” Fox crossed his arms. “Dead serious. They’re lining up for me. Every single one of them.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still laughing. “Okay, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s part of that Senate Elder Aid program. The Guard’s been running supply deliveries for the retired citizens in that sector. And who do they see when they open their doors? Me. In uniform. Doing my job.” He closed the distance between you again, lifting his caf cup to your lips. You grabbed the cup and took a sip before answering with a teasing grin, “Let me guess. They’re thrilled to see such a dashing young man handling their deliveries.”

He snorted. “They tell me I remind them of their grandsons - or in some cases, their late husbands. One of them even gave me a pie last week.”

That sets you off again, making you laugh so hard. “Oh, stars, Fox. You’re out here breaking hearts and collecting pies.”

“Hey, don’t laugh. Those pies are no joke,” he opened your fridge and groaned when he saw nothing in it. “One of them had so much jogan spread in it, I swear I saw the Force. It was orgasmic.”

You shook your head as you watched him rummage through your kitchen. It struck you then - this wasn’t the same Fox you’d first met. When you started seeing him many moons ago, you had no idea what to expect. He’d always been grumbly, guarded, the kind of man who carried a lot of baggage on his shoulders and refused to let anyone lighten the load. His brothers had even warned you, “It’ll take a few drinks to get him to crack a smile.” But here he was now, standing in your leaky apartment, cracking jokes about orgasmic pies and cursing at the leaks. This side of him, the side that raided your kitchen cabinets and made jokes about burning down your apartment, felt like a secret he shared only with you. Outside, the relentless sound of dripping water finally eased, and the oppressive atmosphere of the leaks seemed to lift with it. “Fucking finally,” you muttered under your breath.

“Yeah, fucking finally, babe,” Fox agreed, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. “Guess we don’t have to burn down your apartment now.” He muttered as he continued raiding your cabinets. “Aha - found it.”

He pulled out two cup noodles, the ones he’d given you last week with a ridiculous backstory about a senator who brought them back from an Outer Rim trip. He tossed one to you before tearing into his own. “You saved these?” he asked in disbelief as he filled the cups with hot water. “I thought you’d have devoured them by now.”

“They’re souvenirs,” you said with a shrug. “Figured I’d save them for a special occasion.”

He chuckled, handing your cup back and settling beside you on the counter. “Well, I’m glad I could be here for the big event.” You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder for a moment. The two of you sat there in the quiet, eating noodles and listening to the last echoes of dripping water fade away. Fox slurped a particularly long noodle, before kissing the top of your head. “I’ll stick to raiding vending machines for you, cyare. Much easier on my wallet.”

“Oh, don’t think this means you’re off the hook. You’re still making me that snack basket.” You elbowed him, and sipped the spicy noodle soup from the flimsi cup. 

“Yes, boss.” He signed dramatically at your request.

“You’re such a baby.” You laughed again, resisting the urge to start a food fight. Fox held out his cup noodle above his head like he just received some kind of award for being a decent partner. “And yet, this baby just saved your apartment and provided dinner. I expect proper gratitude, cyare.”

“Gratitude?” you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll think about it. Maybe after you build that basket.”

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound warming you like the noodles you were eating. Both of you would get back to cleaning up soon, hoping the hot water was still working so you could finally take a shower and wash off the day. You thought about dragging him to The Wharf tomorrow for a quick fix for the ceiling leak - he had mentioned it was his off day. Maybe you’d stop by that little diner he liked on Level 4780, grab a plate of fried dumplings, or finally let him show you the vendor that sold the ridiculous milky gummies he kept sneaking into your cabinets.

But you pushed those thoughts aside for now as you turned your attention to him. His serious expression as he ate his cup noodles made you smile. You decided to stay in the moment. The galaxy outside could wait - its noise, its demands, all the things neither of you could control. For now, it was just the two of you, sitting shoulder to shoulder in your leaky kitchen, sharing a moment of peace that, somehow, felt like it was always meant to be.

[laurenairay]

I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton​’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

~

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

~

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

~

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

~

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

~

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

~

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

[ann-atar]

Thinking about the subtle presence of the powers that be and/or the Valar in Rings of Power, and having thoughts about what part they might play in the adaptation, specifically what we’ve seen so far, and going over how those powers that be might view Sauron and his actions, and every time I think about him in that context I feel somewhat sympathetic .

However, not too sympathetic, given his repeated offenses, to qualify him for redemption or some kind of blanket amnesty, at least not before many, many ages of serious contrition, and given that Sauron is Sauron, well. Is that likely?

There are a few different threads I’ve seen that try to make a case for TROP being all about ultimate forgiveness for Sauron, while condemning the choices and actions of Galadriel, Adar, Celebrimbor, Mirdania, or anyone who gets in his way because those individuals were short-sighted or needy, or were motivated by ego or weakness, and that the Valar were handwaving Sauron’s actions or even using Sauron as some kind of tool for divine justice(!).

Do we really think the Valar are indifferent to the suffering of elves and dwarves and men, to the point that they would condemn them to be tortured to death based on a bad choice, or a personal weakness, or a common character flaw? I don't think they are quite that severe in their judgement, but I do think, being something akin to gods, their seeming lack of presence could be interpreted as indifference, and more than that I think their actions happen on a much different time scale, so any action they take might take most of an age to show any results. And of course there would be a lot of unfortunate collateral damage in the meanwhile.

But do we seriously think this means that they would allow all of the violence and destruction we’ve seen so far just to give Sauron a second (third, fourth, fifth) chance to choose a better path before he’s subdued, just because he's a Maia and that somehow makes him their special boy?

No, and I think the show has shown us that this is not the case.

I think Sauron blew it when we were shown what happened in the season two flashback, when we saw his first days as “Halbrand”. Because it feels like that was his chance, and everything he's done and will continue to do in upcoming seasons will show him going deeper into whatever passes for insanity in demi-gods, with little or no understanding of the fact that his vision of order for Middle-earth is just as much an abomination as Melkor's path of destruction.

And that’s the compelling tragedy of Sauron.

Sadly that will mean more and worse consequences for the peoples of Middle-earth in the short term. But the Valar are not indifferent to this, and based on what we've seen they know Sauron needs to be dealt with. But what proof is there of that?

Well, they sent the Stranger/Gandalf, an Istari, and he has been explicitly put on a path to confront Sauron.

Think about the timing of him falling to earth: Sauron was on the raft with Galadriel, not long after Diarmid(!) was trying to get through to Sauron in the hold of that ship (and its subsequent destruction with Sauron on board was anything but a coincidence).

Of course Gandalf has free will too, and might make some mistakes. But he is a powerful force, who also has a different perspective and can play by different rules if he chooses, but he isn’t indifferent to the suffering of the Harfoots, and won't be indifferent to any pain Sauron causes the other peoples of Middle-earth.

So we're watching the consequences of Sauron blowing his latest chance play out, and ultimately I think we know we’ll see the realization of the Valar's condemnation of Sauron's choices and actions via Gandalf, the emissary they sent to counter him and muster forces to help subdue him. And I think the rings, all of them, will come into play during that struggle.

There’s a lot of underlying stuff about free will and the fact that power corrupts running through TROP and Tolkien in general. Celebrimbor made the Three with good intentions despite the fact that wanting to make them was also about ego and his legacy, but we can’t deny that the Three did the job he made them for, and we’ve seen them used to do good things. But Celebrimbor and Galdariel and Gil-galad and anyone else who comes in contact with the Three still have free will, and any attendant flaws that come with free will, and ultimately any powerful tool can be used for good or ill, and will inspire different things in characters according to their individual strengths and weaknesses.

But I do think the Three are more benevolent tools than any of the other Rings, with the One that Sauron will forge out of desperation being the ultimate corrupted tool that could influence the others. So Elrond or Galadriel or even Gandalf might have a better chance of using one of the Three for good, for protection and preservation for some length of time, whereas contact with someone like Sauron would change them based on his intentions, and his intentions are about gaining enough power to subjugate, well, everyone. In his hands, for instance, Nenya’s tendency toward protection would quickly decay into more overt stagnation, and just like men were drawn into the shadow realm by the Nine and the One, someone like Sauron with ill intent or a long history of general malevolence would gradually feed that into any one of the Three and reap the consequences.

In other words it’s not all about the sword, but who wields it.

I do wonder if we’ll see the Three become somewhat tied to the One in TROP, and if so how that will play out. Going back to the books, eventually the Three do lose their powers but there’s no indication that they were corrupted to the degree that the potential of any of the rings of power could corrupt or be corrupted.

The Three are powerful, and they are sought after, but they are not the Silmarils.

But would one of the Three heal or help Sauron? No, and getting back to the first part of this post, there are no shortcuts on the path to healing and redemption, and Sauron can't see that path at this point, and more than that he doesn't even know he's lost in the woods.

Quick aside because I just got a rude anon ask on the subject: Yes, I’ve read Silm and the other books and a bunch of other stuff, but I don’t treat the Legendarium as if I’m a supplicant who only accepts a literal interpretation of something Tolkien said in a lecture or a letter as something akin to religious doctrine, and I think he would laugh himself into a fit to see fans trying to contradict each other that way, especially given how he felt about the so-called dominion of the author. And given that TROP is going at Silm etc. buffet-style I don’t think we can talk about the show and expect it to adhere too strictly to every line the poor man ever wrote. This doesn't mean I didn't understand Silm, but I am coming at the adaptation mostly as it's own "thing." I hope that makes sense.

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The Lady Whistledown Papers : 2x04 Victory (Part 1)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Business

As we open the episode, we get to catch a glimpse of how the Lady Whistledown enterprise is going. Madame Delacroix sews the letters into her fabrics, and the fabric is then delivered to the printers, all while the energetic LW theme swirls in the background. Seems like it's working rather well for Penelope - even if Theo Sharpe is watching over his employer's shoulder.

One small detail I appreciate -- usually when we see the a copy of LW's writing whether it be the actual writing or pamphlet, it's usually the same as the narration of the show. This is the case - as the above, I believe, is the opening narration of the episode. This show does have its faults, but I do appreciate the attention to tiny details like that.

Penelope looking smug that she got her latest issue out just as half of Mayfair is heading out to Aubrey Hall for Lady Bridgerton's weekend getaway adventure. (Or maybe it's a week long. I have no idea - but my god, could you imagine inviting half the town over for tea and a ball?)

Penelope is clearly enjoying herself as the rest of her family is annoyed by being stuck in traffic without an airconditioner. :) Prudence is whining about the heat. Jack is attempting to flirt with Cressida - who is stuck a few carriages ahead. And Portia is fussy because her plans don't seem to be working out.

Penelope mindlessly ignores them all, enjoying her own work (as one does) and appreciating the fact that soon she'll be chilling with a family she much more prefers than her own.

Arrival

Here - have an obligatory Colin and Eloise shot! What are they talking about? Who knows. My guess is - when is Penelope getting here because, seriously, what else are we to do while we wait around for all these boring, rich people to settle in. Colin and Eloise are certainly antagonistic towards each other this season - but I think they both have some common ground in not really caring about what's going on with the rest of the ton.

Pen arrives at Aubrey hall, and the first thing she does is hightail over to her bffs with the biggest, giddiest smile on her face. This is her happy place! I doubt there is really anywhere else she'd rather be than in the company of the only two people who really mean anything to her.

Meanwhile, Eloise is thrilled - because she is less than impressed with any of her own family, and would rather talk to trees than any of them. Colin, of course, quips that Eloise is calling her wooden. Penelope doesn't think he's wooden. And Eloise, as any good sister can, claims she can think of much worse things to call Colin.

All the banter is sweet and cute, and look how happy the three of them are! These be easy times.

And the banter continues! Colin teases Eloise for having her nose buried in women's rights pamphlets (which - isn't a bad thing, Colin, I hope you picked up one or two of those...). Eloise was, of course, first looking for Lady Whistledown leads, but then got herself carried away in the women's liberation of it all - which is... very on brand for Eloise.

Penelope guesses that Eloise has put the whole pamphlet chasing behind her, but Colin assures her that Eloise has not. And... Penelope freaks out -- because to her, it means that Eloise is still hot on the trail of Lady Whistledown. I kind of love the moment when she insists that the letter 'k' has been not a problem. She's doing her best to keep things under wraps!

Also concerning is the fact that Eloise is spending time in a dangerous part of London, unsupervised, with the printer's apprentice. Has Eloise just been spouting all of this to anyone who will listen? How does Colin know what she's been up to? Because he does try to assure Penelope he's tried to talk her out of her sneaking off to go find Theo again.

Colin asks Penelope to help talk some sense into Eloise, because he won't be around. Penelope has the most interesting look on her face. She's disappointed for one - because c'mon, we haven't had any good Polin time since episode 2. But also she looks worried. It doesn't sound like she really wants Colin to go on the hunt -- which is what the rest of the men are up to. Which is interesting. I assume Colin does know how to hunt and use a gun. I wonder what Penelope's objections would be.

Colin hits her with some even more disturbing news, however -- the fact that he's going to visit Marina. Penelope is totally like wha--why??? And Eloise snidely comments that she isn't the only one who might be getting themselves into dangerous water.

Colin is on a mission. What kind of mission? Well, he doesn't actually know -- but what he's going to get is closure, which isn't a bad thing.

Meanwhile, Penelope looks like she has some protesting thoughts -- but she doesn't get a chance to voice them. Violet is calling for Pen and Eloise, and grabs them both as Colin quite literally bows out of the scene.

So. Um. Not really much of a Polin scene, but at least it's some interaction! And if nothing else, you can see that the two of them will easily team up against Eloise instead of against each other. It won't be the only time this season that it happens.

Violet insists that both of them (and interestingly -- she does include Penelope in this) work on talking with the other girls of the Ton. Eloise insists that she and Penelope have loads to catch up on, but Violet thinks it's better if they make it a point to socialize with other people.

She reminds Eloise that they are the hosts that week, and they should act like it, and if nothing else, they can absorb some good gossip. Penelope is polite about it even as Eloise continues to grimace.

And... I think this is the second scene we have with Penelope and Lady Bridgerton? I'm kind of keeping my eye on this. There's not much -- but Violet has an easy way with Penelope, meaning that, despite the act that they really have zero interaction with each other, Penelope is definitely a fixture in Violet's life through her child. And seems to be somewhat fond of Penelope. It's a shame we really don't get much more of them!

Eloise and Penelope join the other young ladies of the ton. And, both of them are so used to just having each other, I'm sure this is awkward on so many levels. But I also wonder -- what do the other young ladies say about Eloise and Penelope when they're not around? I'm guessing they're mostly ignored, but I'm sure Eloise's radical nature and Penelope's awkwardness and strange clothing (as well as the Feartherington's pension for oddness) is probably always on the table.

And... that's where we're going to stop for now. Because next up we're gonna get into it with the return of Marina... ;)