#he was also the first one to recognise me as Me back in like 2016 soooOOOOoooo....... suspish. suspish!!!!

[echthr0s]

*grabs Can Calah* YOU

me: what if I changed my whole name again when we change our last names

Can Calah: don’t be an idiot and change your name to Mordred Deschain

me: *think emoji* well since you fucking brought it up

[spidey-webz]

the sweetest sin – bucky barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Bucky goes undercover at a charity event to get closer to you. You’re his mission. But that dress you’re wearing is a little too tempting…

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, r deals with weapons, r and bucky have a shared history, mentions of bucky’s trauma, r wears a dress, r is also shorter than bucky, somewhat public sex (in a restroom, door closed), slight dom bucky, they’re both really horny, very little plot, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, mirror sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, darling), fingering with the metal hand, hair pulling

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This idea came to me after seeing the Thunderbolts trailer and I really hope you'll like this one!!

Masterlist

The ballroom was filled with chatter and music. Multiple waiters were balancing champagne glasses on their trays, walking from group to group and handing them out with a smile. There were men discussing business deals, old friends exchanging memories and some women holding onto their husbands’ arms as they laughed. 

None of them paid any particular mind to the man in the corner of the room. 

Bucky Barnes was leaning against a stone pillar, his eyes roaming through the room as he attempted to find you in the crowd somewhere. He had declined every glass of champagne, so he could stay alert if you passed by him. 

He had not seen you in a while. To be honest, he had never kept up with your life. His own had been quite the mess after the Blip, but seeing your name in the mission file served as enough of a reminder of what you two had shared. Bucky had been a man without a path ahead of him, only fleeing from everyone that might recognise him, and there you had been – in Romania. You had only spent a few weekends together, but he had enjoyed them all the same. For that short while, he had felt like a normal man. 

When had things gone wrong in your life? Or had you always been involved with this kind of trade? 

The files on you did not mention any criminal activity when he had first met you in 2016. Had it been the Blip that forced you to join illegal weapon trading? Had it been something else in your life?

Bucky could never say he knew you. There had been many secrets between the two of you, starting with his very own identity. You had made him feel safe and yet he hadn’t been able to share his name with you, too afraid that it might slip you at the market or at the gas station. 

Back then, he barely even knew himself. His memories had been a disorganised mess, a whirl of moments and feelings he could not exactly put together. Even being with you, feeling your warm body around him and having your lips wander like feathers over his skin – it had felt almost foreign to his troubled mind. 

Those memories were cherished by him and once he had settled back into a somewhat normal life, Bucky had found himself reminiscing about them on lonely nights. 

Now he was after you. 

There were so many women with the same hair colour as you, but he felt certain that he would still recognise you between all of them. Sam did not know why he had been so determined on receiving this mission, but he would explain it to him in due time. Bucky had promised to reduce the number of secrets he had, but he had never felt comfortable sharing you with anyone. Until now, he had kept you hidden away in a part of his heart that only he could access – in the middle of the night, in quiet moments, in the comfortable space of his bed. 

A flash of white passed by him. Another man might have missed it, but he had been trained to notice any movement in the corner of his eye for years. He turned his head to the side, trying to find the same white dress in the crowd again and there you were. 

Your dress was low-cut, no sleeves and a slit on the side for your thigh and knee to peak through with every step. He flexed his jaw, taking a deep breath as he watched you talk with a man he did not recognise. A glass of champagne rested easily in your hand, your eyes fixed on the person in front of you. He was not blessed with enough enhanced hearing to make out any part of the conversation, yet he found himself entranced with the movements of your lips. 

Bucky had feared that this might happen. He had not seen you in so long and there were so many questions floating around in his head, so many unspoken things on his tongue. But you were his mission all the same and he had hoped to make this entire ordeal a little bit easier on you if it was him that came looking for you. 

The dress you were wearing almost demanded all of his attention. His cheeks started to feel warm once he allowed the memories to flood in. He had you spread out on your bed, his tongue expertly moving between your folds, strong arms holding you in place just for him. You had squeezed his cock so beautiful during every night you two shared and this dress, the flashes of your skin, all of it reminded him of those moments. 

In an attempt to gather himself, he pulled on the ends of his jacket, straightening it in the process.  

People always moved out of his way. Even with his metal hand covered up, they often didn’t want to cross him. It was a strange sensation, no doubt. Bucky would not call himself particularly frightening. 

He did not mean to interrupt your conversation, but he did linger a little closer to you than before. If he caught you alone for a moment, he could speak to you. 

You had seen him when you had turned around to place down your glass of champagne. Bucky Barnes had been a momentary part of your life in Romania, but he had lingered in the back of your mind for years. You had changed and so had the world around you. It didn’t change the way his touch had seemed to stay with you. In lonely moments, it had become a source of comfort, a source of wonder. Of course, you had eventually realised who he was. It had been all over the news. 

The Winter Soldier. 

How could you not know him after every newspaper in town had his face plastered on their front page? And yet he had been a stranger to you until the last second. 

Whatever choices he had made, they had led him here and they had led him to follow you. If you could trust any of the newspaper articles you had read about him recently, he was now one of the good guys and that meant he was out to get you. 

Not that you had committed a horrible crime, but you had given other people the supplies to commit theirs. Enough of an offence to have the former Winter Soldier on your tail. 

You knew he would not interrupt your conversation. He was waiting for the right moment to speak to you and that moment would have to be one between just you and him. You decided to give him the chance to since his eyes seemed to burn holes into your back. With an apologetic smile, you excused yourself to the toilet. 

Moving through the couples standing in your way, you briefly glanced back over your shoulder. He was following you, a stern expression on his face. You had only smile him a few times and those never seemed to reach his eyes in the slightest. There had been a deep sadness about the man you had met in Romania and you wondered if it was still there. 

You closed the door to the restroom behind you, but it opened again just a moment later. 

There was a tzzzz sound and you knew Bucky had used some sort of device to lock the door behind himself. After engaging in weapon trade for a few years, you had become familiar with different methods to remain undisturbed for important conversations. As you stood in front of the mirror, you did not look at him at first. 

His presence alone sent a shiver down your spine. 

Had he thought of you these past years? Had he remembered you in a positive way? 

Bucky had stayed with you even days after his departure from Romania. The memory of his touch had been with you during a shower, during the boring commute to your job and most importantly, during nights facing the moon in an attempt to feel the same way you did for those short weekends. 

His eyes continued to linger on you. He was almost frozen in place even though you did not even give him a glance again. Bucky wanted to tilt your head to the side, run his lips over the familiar skin of your neck and make you shiver in his arms as he had done before. You were right there, a temptation he should avoid. 

He was on a mission. He was not here to reconcile with an old acquaintance and he was definitely not here to indulge any of his own desires. No matter how tight his throat started to feel and how his body seemed to protest his every thought. After all, Bucky had felt alive with you. After so many years of living on auto-pilot, those nights with you had brought him back to this world a little. 

Bucky flexed his left hand. How was he supposed to initiate this conversation? 

I am here to arrest you. I need to know more about the people you’re supplying to…

Why are you wearing this dress? I can’t stop looking at you. 

Neither of these options would work. 

His steps echoed through the empty bathroom once he approached. His reflection appeared in the mirror, close to yours and you searched for his gaze until your eyes met. Maybe you had just imagined it, but Bucky’s expression seemed to soften for just a moment. 

His posture gave him away though. He was tense, metal hand curled into a fist by his side. A smirk appeared on your own lips. His eyes drifted down your neck, to your collarbones and eventually to your cleavage. Of course, he was looking at you. The dress was a nice one, showing just enough to tempt any man. 

Bucky had never been able to forget any detail about you. Having you right in front of him brought all the desire he previously felt right back. 

“It’s good to see you, Bucky.” 

He had never heard you say his name before. Back then, it had always been a different one, but it now sent a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s good to see you too.” 

You were not oblivious to the looks he was giving you. It seemed like your body was tempting him just as it had done years ago. Would it get you out of this situation? 

His suit looked good on him too. You had never seen him in formal clothing before, but it brought out the best in him. His eyes were still the same piercing blue as you remembered. Even though your weekends together had not been of the strictly romantic kind, you had spend hours upon hours gazing into his eyes and trying to make sense of the man in front of you. 

Bucky had always remained a mystery to you until your ways had eventually parted. 

“Have all these years taken your ability to talk to me?” You asked with a wicked smile, turning around to him fully as you leaned against the sink behind you. You could watch his gaze briefly turn towards your exposed knee, then flicker back to your face. 

“Not at all. I am here to talk to you about your job.” So you had been right. Bucky was here to talk to you about your trade, but if you were quite honest, you were not in the mood to talk about it at all. 

“Do we really have to talk about that? You haven’t seen me in years.” You stepped closer to him, taking a moment to appreciate the beard on his face and the curve of his lips. He looked healthier than the last time you saw him – stronger, even. Would his lips still feel good on yours? Would his hands know exactly where to touch you? 

Could he make you come undone like he had done so many times before? 

“No, we do not.” His voice had grown rougher, his gaze darkened just a little. 

Bucky could smell your perfume. It seemed to envelop him entirely, dulling all his thoughts until there was only you. 

You and your pretty dress. You and your tempting lips and a body he wanted to lose himself in. 

His mission was on the line. Could he allow himself to fail it? Return home with empty hands? Just because his hands wanted to be all over you. Bucky wanted to run his fingers over your exposed knee, let his hand wander up and up until he’d reach the wet folds between your legs. Would you still taste the very same there? 

“I did not expect to meet you again like-”

Bucky’s finger found your lips and stopped your words altogether. You blinked up at him, once, twice, through long lashes and he knew he was a doomed man this evening. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. While his right index finger rested on your lips, his left hand slid up your arm. The metal was cool against your skin, a familiar sensation you had dreamed about many times in the past years. 

“Just be quiet.” He leaned down to your ear, his lips grazing your skin ever so slightly. “You look lovely in this dress.” A soft kiss planted at the spot between your ear and your jaw. Enough to send a shiver down your spine. You pulled your arm away to grab his hand, planting it on your waist instead. 

Bucky took his finger away from your lips and looked at you, desire burning in his eyes. His pants were getting tighter the more he thought about your naked body and the promise of maybe exploring it once more. Even if this would be a short-lived moment, he wanted to cherish it. When would he ever get the chance to touch you again? 

You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to give your body to him, even if it was just for one evening. 

Pulling him just a little closer, you pressed your lips against his. Bucky’s hands firmly grabbed your waist, pressing you up against him. You could feel his arousal hard against your leg and it brought a smirk to your lips. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

It was easy for him to lift you up onto the sink and part your thighs enough to stand between them. Bucky’s hands roamed your body, starting at your hips and running his big hands up your back. Your own began to wander to his shirt, opening it button for button, just to see his trained chest peak through. 

His tongue parted your lips, the kiss growing more hungry by the second. He felt like a man starved and you were the only one able to quench his thirst. 

“Need to fuck you in this dress.” His words were a low mumble against your lips, but still enough to make your panties almost feel soaked. Your pussy clenched around nothing, another sign that you needed him just as much. 

“Please do,” you whispered, already feeling out of breath when you briefly parted from each other. Bucky’s hands moved underneath your dress, squeezing the bare skin of your thighs, hands inching further to the inside. 

He wanted to savour this moment. Once you two left the restroom again, life would continue. For now, it could stay exactly like this. 

“Lift your hips for me, doll.” 

There it was. Doll. A familiar endearment from his lips and you were quite happy to oblige. Pushing yourself off the counter for a moment, Bucky hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs. He pushed them into the back pockets of his pants, before kneeling down on the ground in front in you. 

His lips were laced with a wicked smirk after he wet his lips with his tongue. “Spread your legs for me.” 

Once your thighs had parted for him, you leaned back against the mirror behind you, the cool glass against the back of your head. Bucky’s warm breath on your most sensitive spot caused goosebumps to spread over your entire body. 

“Already so wet for me. Did you lure me here on purpose?” Even though you couldn’t see his smile, you could hear it in his voice. 

Whatever words you wanted to reply got stuck in your throat once Bucky’s lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked on it softly, his metal hand travelling closer to where you needed him the most. As his middle finger slid between your wet folds, you pushed your hips against his hand, eager for more. 

“Oh shit,” you cursed under your breath. The cold sensation of his metal digit inside you left you gasping with every new curl of his finger. Bucky continued to alternate between sucking on your sensitive nub and flicking his tongue against it. 

He knew how to work your body and he wanted to see you explode in front of him. Your taste on his tongue was enough to keep him satisfied for days. Once he added another finger, filling your pussy so tightly, you pressed your left hand down on your mouth to prevent your moans to slip past your lips. 

Your right hand found its way into Bucky’s hair, pressing him just a little closer to your middle. The tension in your abdomen became more and more, your walls quivering around his fingers. With every stroke of his fingers inside you, with every expertly placed flick of his tongue, he brought you closer to a climax and he could tell. 

Bucky felt your walls clench around his hand, your thighs shaking around his head. A deep groan escaped him. It was enough to sent vibrations through your core, your squeal only being muted by your own hand around your mouth. 

“Come for me, darling.” You wanted to obey his wishes and with one more roll of your hips and a flick of Bucky’s tongue against your clit, your orgasm rolled over you. Your hand pulled harder on his hair as you tried to keep as quiet as possible. Bucky loved the feeling of your thighs closing around his head, almost threatening to smother him in-between. 

When he stood back up once your climax had worn off, he licked over his lips slowly. You barely had time to catch your breath when he pulled you right back into his arms, erection pressing against your thigh as you could taste yourself on his tongue. Bucky’s kiss was eager and hungry, his metal hand sneaking up the back of your neck. 

“Can you taste yourself on my tongue?” His words were a mumble against your mouth, almost being drowned out by another kiss. Bucky’s eyes were wide with lust, his hand manoeuvring your neck to the side, so he could run his tongue up your neck. Another moan slipped past your lips, your body eagerly pressing into his. You wanted to savour each of his touches and stop time. 

You nodded in reply, feeling the rough brush of his beard against your jawline. It was enough to make you shiver, enough to want even more of him. 

“Talk to me,” he urged you, his mouth right next to your ear. 

“Yes, I can.”

Your voice was trembling, your hands fumbling to get a hold of his cheeks. When you cupped his cheeks, you turned his face towards you. Bucky’s cheeks had turned a soft red colour and his hips were slightly rolling against your leg. He needed the relief as much as you had. 

“I need you.” 

Bucky didn’t need to hear more than that. You helped him open his pants and slide them down, his boxers soon following. In an attempt to relieve some of the need between your legs, you squeezed them together, but Bucky quickly pulled them apart once more. 

“Need to be inside you,” he mumbled against your neck. Your hands moved to his back, legs wrapping around his hips and Bucky grabbed the underside of your thighs to position you properly. His tip brushed past your folds, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Bucky had always filled you out so nicely and you couldn’t wait to feel it again. 

When he pushed inside, you leaned your head back against the mirror behind you. Bucky let out a soft groan, closing his eyes to savour the feeling. Your walls were still so very tight around him, fitting perfectly around his cock. His first thrust was slow, but it filled you out all the same. 

Your fingers attempted to get a hold of his shirt as he leaned down and softly sucked on the soft skin at your throat. “Fuck,” you groaned, pushing your hips up to feel him even deeper. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure through you, your body rocking in sync with his even when his thrusts grew more rapid. 

Bucky’s fingers dug into the soft skin around your hips, holding you in place as started to chase his own high. The knot in your abdomen got tighter and tighter. 

He groaned into your shoulder, face pressed against your skin, his hot breath leaving goosebumps spread over your entire body. “Shit,” you cursed again, feeling yourself getting so close to that sweet high – once again. 

Before you could reach your sweet relief, Bucky pulled out again, leaving your cunt empty and leaking. A puzzled expression appeared in your face, but you soon knew what his plan was. In one swift movement, Bucky had you off the counter and turned around, seeing your own flushed face in the mirror. 

Bucky entered you once more, this time with one hard thrust. It was already enough to send you over the edge, but his thrusts kept going. Your pussy was spasming around him, legs trembling as your orgasm just kept going. Bucky’s metal hand pressed down on your mouth to silence your moans as he kept the ruthless pace up, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again. 

The pleasure was too much, your thighs trying to squeeze together and your hands holding tightly onto the counter. His grunts of pleasure filled your ear and his eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Once your gazes met, his teeth scraped against your earlobe, his thrusts growing almost erratic. Bucky was so close too, so close to spending himself inside you. 

“Going to fill you up, doll,” he groaned and as you pushed your hips back again, walls squeezing his cock so deliciously, it finally tipped him over the edge. His low moan sounded in your ear and his face was distorted with lust. The sight alone gave you one final push to reach your next high, one hand desperately holding onto Bucky’s strong forearm. 

He held you in place as ropes of cum painted your insides white, his cock still pulsing inside you. Bucky wanted to hold you like this forever, as close as humanly possible, and never let go again. 

Soft kisses were planted on your shoulder, his beard scraping along your soft skin, leaving a slight redness behind. His lips wandered over to your pulse point, making you whimper as you pressed yourself back into his chest. 

“I’ve missed you.”

His words were unexpected, but you cherished them all the same. You had missed him too – more than you often liked to admit. 

“I missed you too.” 

There were still so many things to discuss between you, but Bucky was pretty sure that those could wait for another moment longer. That dress had already distracted him more than enough, but he wished to remember every little detail of you wearing it. That would take time. 

It definitely looked like time had stopped for the both of you, even if it was just for tonight. 

[maxarchive]

Fear, faith, friendship: Inside F1’s most precious relationship

[...]

When now-triple world champion Max Verstappen was first promoted to the Red Bull team mid-season in 2016, race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase was tasked with moulding an 18-year-old possessing both supreme talent and a frank demeanour with only a few days' notice.

"I had experience working with multiple drivers before Max, and that was one of the biggest helps in terms of hitting the ground running with him. I think if I would have been a newbie to my role - I won't quite say he would have eaten me alive, but I'm not sure he would have had that respect for a junior engineer."

Their relationship was an immediate success. Verstappen became the youngest race winner in F1 history, finishing first on his debut at the Spanish Grand Prix. But, generally, the first few years of Lambiase and Verstappen's partnership were spent chasing perennial frontrunners Mercedes.

"Max learned some really harsh lessons in the two or three years before 2021. His racecraft really was something that we focused on, making sure we were just picking up points when it wasn't possible to win a race. We were concentrating on building his consistency, needing to be finishing every race, maybe not putting himself in a situation where he can end up in a 50/50 accident with another driver."

[...]

Sometimes, though, tension between driver and race engineer can spill over in the most high-pressure moments.

Now in his ninth season working with Verstappen, having won the championship in each of the past three seasons, Lambiase's voice is a staple of every F1 broadcast and has become recognisable to fans all around the world.

The pair's success does not mean their communications are entirely straightforward.

"I think it is inevitable in any relationship that there are disagreements. The first port of call is acceptance of that. Secondly, you need to have faith in each other that it is for the greater good rather than there being any kind of malicious undertone. That is at the core of the relationship. As an engineer, I need to understand that ultimately Max is in the hot seat, not me. So while we are all working in a pressurised environment, the driver is at a level well beyond that. As an older citizen I would like to think I am mature enough to step back and let him vent when necessary, but to also make him understand why decisions are being made. If I was a yes man, I would have been gone long ago. We have just got that honesty in the relationship between us that we can be blunt and straight-talking when needed."

As well as coping with adrenaline themselves, race engineers must manage the pressure on their racers.

The 2021 campaign was arguably the most intense in F1's 74-year history. After an acrimonious year marked by heavy collisions between the pair on track and serial sparring between their respective team principals in the paddock, Verstappen and rival Lewis Hamilton's title fight came down to the wire at the season finale in Abu Dhabi.

"I wouldn't want to repeat 2021 in a hurry. It was incredibly competitive on and off the track [but] sometimes I think it went beyond the realms of sport. In terms of taking that pressure away from Max, I tried to stress with everybody here that we continued as normal. We treated every race as a single event rather than trying to look too far down the line at what could be."

[...]

In some cases though, the idea of starting afresh following the end of such a deep connection doesn't appeal any more.

"I honestly see Max as a younger brother. We can talk about anything and anyone at any time. We're at the point where we just felt completely relaxed and at ease with each other. Maybe I am speaking out of turn, but I don't think I would have any interest in working with another driver now. Having had the success that we have enjoyed together with Max, working with one of the greatest talents that the sport has ever seen, I don't think it would be fair on another driver, from their perspective or mine, to try and replicate what we have achieved with Max."

In Formula 1, as in all our lives, the magic of the most special relationships will always remain utterly unique.

[muxshwriting]

the winner takes it all

Nico Rosberg x Hamilton!reader

summary: after 2016, nico cut you and your brother off. you reach out to him, wanting him to know you would always be his || warnings: slight angst, abandonment, threats || word count: 1328 || masterlist

It had been a hectic year, dating your brother's teammate who he was currently rivals with. The boys you'd grown up with had changed and evolved and grown ever more distant from each other. You'd spent most of the season juggling your emotions, trying not to celebrate too much when either of them one so the other didn't feel upset.

But as Nico crossed the line as World Champion, you couldn't hide your elation. The moment he was out of the car, he was jumping into the arms of his team. A part of your heart aches for Lewis, your brother, knowing how hard he had worked for this Championship, only to lose at the last second. But the pure joy that flowed through you dictated your actions as you threw yourself at Nico as he cheered. He pulled off his helmet, holding your head in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

"You won!" You're shouting over the crowd but Nico is nodding and grinning like a kid all over again.

"I won!"

Behind him, Lewis was watching his own sister congratulate the man who had just ruined his life instead of comforting her brother. How can Nico be so smug about taking everything Lewis had dreamed of? He was so nonchalant throughout interviews, as if he knew this was always meant to happen. But Lewis couldn't stop himself feeling bitter.

Nico could have the championship, Lewis could earn himself another. But Nico would not take everything from him, he would not take his sister. He watched his team celebrate from the sidelines, watched as his sister kissed and danced with the man she loved, the man he now hated. Tonight would be the last night he would come anywhere near his sister.

Whatever your brother did, you certainly noticed its affects even if you didn't know the reasoning behind them. Nico did not speak to again after the night he won the championship. Or any day after that.

In the beginning, you just assumed he was busy with interviews and stories, too busy to text you back or find the time to come and see you. But as time went on and he declined all your calls, it became obvious this wasn't a time issue. This was something else.

No matter where you went in Monaco, you could not find him. He didn't frequent the places you had shared, stayed away from your work and ignored anything you tried to reach out with.

"I don't understand Lew, he's not the kind of person that would do this, I don't know what happened." You're sitting in your brother's apartment, binging episodes of a random reality show and trying to figure it out.

"Maybe he thought he was too good now he's won the championship." Lewis felt bad for his sister, yes. But he was also glad Nico had realised what was good for him.

You wipe away tears. "We always talked about life after the championship was over, whether he won or you did. We were gonna move in together, take some time for ourselves, figure out if this was forever..."

"He mustn't think it was forever then."

"Then he should've told me that to my face, not completely blank me."

Two weeks later, by sheer coincidence you're sitting in the cafe you and Nico had often visited and he walked through the doors. He didn't notice you at first, ordering a takeaway and waiting by the counter. Quietly, you pack your bag and stand by the door, trying to catch him on his way out.

"Nico!"

He said nothing, his eyes widening as he recognised you. Nodding politely, he tried to push past you, not meeting your eyes.

"Nico?"

He finally met your gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. "It's good to see you Y/N. I -"

"You’re gonna stay the fuck away from my sister, alright? I don’t want you to talk to her ever again."

"Lewis-"

"No! You won't talk to either of us again. You're nothing. You don't deserve her, and the sooner you realise that, the better off she is. She knows she's better off without you."

"Can we talk?" You ask.

Nico shakes his head. "There's nothing to talk about." He walks out the door but you follow.

"We need to talk about it Nico." You implore him. "Nico?"

"There's nothing to say."

"There's plenty to say Nico. Listen to me, please! I loved you, I still love you." You say. "Even after everything that happened, I never stopped. Why did you stop letting me see you?"

"Lewis told me to stay away. And you're better without me-"

"What?"

Nico turned to face you. "Lewis? He told me that you would be better without me, that you said that."

You're face is plastered with confusion. "Lewis told you not to talk to me? But- I never said that. Why does Lewis think he can control who I love?" As you were speaking, the anger grew. "Why did you listen to him?"

"Because he's right. You deserve more than me."

"Don't say that!" You quickly reply. "I don't care what my brother thinks, you are the world champion. You deserve everything, especially me! He can have any model he wants, all the races, all the wins, all the championships but I want you. I want to have you and I want to be happy with you."

Nico’s expression sours. “We’re not doing this here, not now.”

"I want you!" You yell after him, not caring who else heard. "Only you."

"Your brother-"

"Stop talking about my brother!" You beg him. "Please, I love you Nico."

He sighs, running a hand down his face. "Alright," he gestures you to follow him, "We need to talk somewhere more private."

Silently agreeing, you grabbed his hand and led him through the winding streets of Monaco until you reached his apartment building. He hadn't moved yet and as he unlocked the door, you let yourself admire the man you would always love. Nothing inside the apartment had changed except the pictures hanging on the wall.

Nico had a wall of pictures that you had helped him create. They were moments from his karting career, his life and his relationship with you. There was a new picture in pride of place at the very top of the wall, the place he put his favourite. It was a picture of the day he won his championship, a picture of you and him in a lovers embrace, confetti falling around you and sweat dripping from his hair. It was the perfect picture that captured everything you and him were.

"That's new." You point to the picture and look at Nico hopeful.

"Yeah." He smiles. "The team photographer sent me the original and I couldn't think of a better place to put it."

You took the chance and stepped closer to Nico, almost pressing your body against his. You felt the sharp intake of breath from him as he tucked a loose hair behind your ear.

"Are you sure?"

You're nodding before he's even finished. "We're gonna move in together, and take some time for us. And I know it's going to work because this is what I want in forever. I want you to my forever."

"Will you marry me?" He whispered the question like he didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"Yes." You immediately answer before Nico can backtrack. "Yes. Please."

Nico stepped back and shook his head slightly. "Wait- Y/N, just wait. I don't know why I said that."

"Are you trying to take it back?"

"No!" He hurriedly corrects. "I think we need to go slow. I haven't talked to you in three weeks."

"Three weeks don't matter, we know each other, we know that this works. Why do we have to wait?"

Nico couldn't hide his smile as he dipped his head to press his lips against yours.

"Why wait indeed..."

[cheeseceli]

I'll be waiting

Pairing: idol Bang Chan × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friends to potential lovers, fic (1.6k words)

Prompt: "Even ten years from now, if you haven't found somebody I promise I'll be around. Tell me when you're ready. I'm waiting"

Warnings: for a short moment there's a bit of unrequited love, happy ending tho. Mentions of insecurity back to the trainee days.

A/n: the longest fic I've ever done, I'm kinda proud of it ngl

Patience might be Chan's biggest virtue, he thinks to himself. By seeing where he's right now and where he was ten years ago, he smiles. He couldn't agree more with that statement.

2014

He still remembers the first time he saw you.

Monthly evaluation. At this point, Chan should already be used to this whole process of the trainee life. However, that day felt particularly depressing to him. Hopeless, he would say.

He had found out that JYP was about to debut a new group. A girl group. And as much as Bang Chan tried to be completely happy for his friends who could finally try and debut, he had to admit he was somewhat jealous. Four years of training and he felt like he was heading towards nowhere.

Still, he tried to practice. He sang the song he would showcase so many times he reached the point of not even feeling the words leaving his mouth. He was so lost he also didn't notice the presence of someone else in the practice room. That is, until you clapped.

Chan turned his head towards you, low-key surprised. He recognised you as the child of one of the Got7's staff. He couldn't remember your name though. He doubted he even heard it at all.

"Sorry" you finally spoke. Your voice was pretty "I'm looking for my dad. Your voice is very beautiful though. You're doing well." And with a thumbs up you went away.

Chan couldn't help but laugh. Now that was random. He could barely process what happened. But you complimented him. It had been a while since he last heard a genuine compliment.

Somewhere inside his mind, he repeated his words nonstop, filling him with motivation and hope. He also was trying to remember to ask your name later.

2016

He did remember to ask your name after all. Y/n L/n. The pronunciation of your name was beautiful, almost like a melody. Honestly, after two years of knowing you, he could affirm that your existence itself was like a sweet melody.

You both became friends, good ones at that. He also found himself developing feelings for you. That was the saddest part of it all in his opinion.

Even though he hadn't known you for so long, he couldn't see life without you. To live without your horrible jokes (that he always found funny), without your sunshine-like personality (even though most people wouldn't describe you like that. Maybe you were his personal dose of light) felt like a nightmare.

However, it felt a bit cruel that he needed to live like that. He wanted to be an idol. You were the one who was his biggest incentive. Then why, to have a romance with you, could bring problems to his career? It was almost as if destiny liked to make chan suffer.

Pick one.

Happily, Chan was patient. So patient that he decided to wait for you as long as needed. He had hopes that any time now, you would come to him. And he would be ready.

Meanwhile, he focused on becoming an idol. He couldn't give up now, especially given the fact that he knew you'd be in the front row, cheering for him louder than everyone else.

2018

He kept his promise: he followed his dream, finally achieving the so exciting debut, and still waited for you, his crush developing into the most sincere love he ever felt.

However, you had other plans. Of course, you were still there for him. You were probably the one who got the happiest with the results of the survival show. You spent countless nights with him on the practice room and in the studio. You were seeing his dream come true in first hand.

But this time, there was someone else besides you: your current boyfriend. Chan really doesn't know why he didn't think this could've happened. Of course, you were dating. You were smart, beautiful and had so much love to give. Someone else would've fallen for you at some point. And it was unfair of him to expect you to be single, waiting for an empty promise.

The saddest part of it was that your boyfriend was a nice guy. It was clear he loved you. He even made an effort to love everyone who you loved, including Chan himself. You were happy around him.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Chan got the job, you got someone to love - someone who could adore you without being scared of the media - and you both still got each other in the end.

Maybe that was what Chan could have. It's okay, right?

2020

The downfall of Chan's patience at last.

Although you both were still as close as you always were, life was leading each of you in your own direction.

You had a job, he had a job. You had your friends, he had his members. You had your own house, he had the dorms. You had your boyfriend, he didn't have a partner. But it was okay because he didn't even have the time after all.

Still, he tried to fall for someone else during this period. Being in this industry for two years now, he had the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Some fancied him, some tried to take a step further in a somewhat relationship. Some even wanted to just have fun. Chan swears he tried to give in most of the time.

Needless to say he failed at every try. He couldn't come close to someone without wishing it was you instead. His short answers were compared to how sweetly he talked to you. He didn't even bother to call people or have long conversations. He knew it was only a matter of time until his mind started the undesired comparison.

Maybe it was what the job required. Maybe it was because of his lack of time. Han disagrees though. Chan remembers how his friend insisted on the fact that his leader wouldn't even try with other people. But it wasn't his fault either, as it was a subconscious thing. Chan's mind was still wrapped around you. And his heart wanted to disagree, but it all goes down the moment he finds out you and your boyfriend, now your ex, had broken up.

Although he tried hard to deny, he couldn't help but still wait for you. No matter if there was a light at the end of the tunnel or if it was only darkness. He would wait.

2022

Something in your brain has switched, and Bang Chan can't say he really liked the difference.

Of course, you were still the greatest person he ever met. You were still his sunshine. But it seemed like you were tired. Your conception of life and love wasn't as bright as it once was and Chan couldn't help but feel worried about it.

For him, who has loved you deeply for over eight years now, to see you giving yourself less credit and affection hurt him. He doesn't know why and when it happened, but your brain was trying to shut down all genuine feelings one could offer to you. You thought you were, maybe, undeserving of it all.

Honestly, to see you slowly losing your light has wounded Chan way more than all his past experiences: from his fear of failure to his disappointment upon meeting your ex boyfriend. Almost as an instinct,he tried to solve the situation. This time, patience wouldn't do.

Without even noticing, he started to love you more. To actually show you how he cared for you, to put his feelings into words and actions. At first, your heart tried to deny any possible affection, but it soon realised it wasn't possible. Not when Chan didn't even hesitate on showing the entire world how you were worthy of love. And not once he showed it as a challenge or a burden. He was by your side, and he never made it seem hard.

The best part of it all was that none of you noticed it. He started to open up to you to try and protect you,and you opened up to him in order to heal and protect his feelings. Maybe that was patience finally showing itself as a virtue.

2024

Ten years later, it finally happened.

Honestly, Chan was still a bit suspicious. There was no way he was actually seeing this, right? Maybe he was becoming delusional after all. Maybe he started to hallucinate because of his desires. But at the same time, it felt too real.

The way you looked at him, that is. It was just a normal conversation between old friends. Between gossips and laughs, there was absolutely no reason for you to look at him like this. So lost in thought, with this shimmer in your eyes that Chan knew way too well. He knew it because he had it too.

It was love. Not the one nurtured by friends or family. The one shared just between lovers. And he was so sure of it because he knew he looked at you in the exact same way you were looking at him right now.

He smiles. For a moment, you're a bit lost, wondering if you lost a joke or an important moment. That, however, makes him laugh. He couldn't believe he just saw you fall in love on the first row.

Ah, he's been patient. Now, he can't wait for you to realise what just happened. Either way, he knows with a smile on his face that he'll be waiting for you.

I promise I'll be around.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: summer with you

Thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think about it!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Dividers by @dollywons

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

[kxzush1]

Sobbing quietly

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Y/N (childhood friends)

summary: Y/N and Charles are childhood friends and they share their trauma of losing people they love.

warning: angst.

note: changed Charles's and Charlote's dating timeline a bit.

Y/N and Charles are childhood friends. Y/N moved to Monaco with their parents when they were a kid. They started karting and met Charles, Esteban, Pierre and Anthoine. They became friends off the track quickly, and rivals on the track quickly.

As Y/N's parents weren't always the best, they often would spend time with Charles. Hanging around his house, spending time with Charles, even with his parents, as they would take care of them like Y/N's their kid. They also met Jules. Jules Bianchi. One of their favourite people beside Charles. He made Y/N laugh a lot, and they made many memories. But then he crashed. And they said he was in a coma. They went to visit him in October with Charles. And they cried a lot. But they said he could get better. So Y/N was a bit happier. A few months later, it was not so good, and then- and then..

Jules died. It was night. Y/N was over at Charles's. They woke up in the middle of the night, hearing some noise from downstairs. They saw Lorenzo. He didn't look good. And then they told Y/N.

"Y/N please tell him.. I don't think I can bring myself to." Lorenzo whispered. They sobbed quietly, leaning there against the couch, sitting on the floor. Their hands covering her face.

"I- I don't know if I can either, please.." Y/N whispered back, but then they heard those steps. Y/N recognised them. Those light steps, they were his. Y/N looked up, saw him walking down those steps, rubbing his eyes.

"Y/N.." he mumbled, almost like he was searching for them. Then he looked at the people before him. He looked at Y/N. Their eyes met. It was like Y/N told him wordlessly.

"Charles.. Jules just died." Y/N whispered, wiping their tears away. And Charles just stared, and he couldn't bring himself to cry. But Y/N understood. Standing up, Y/N walked up the stairs, took his hand and led him back to his room. They laid down and Y/N pulled him closer. And then he cried. Only in their arms. On the bed, and then at the funeral.

Y/N was a talented driver, a very talented one. Stepping into Formula 2 a year earlier than Charles, in 2016, they didn't win the championship in the first year, nor the second one, but that one, they didn't mind it. Because that year, it was different.

The year ended in tears,not in those of joy, but in those of sadness. Hervé died. Charles was almost broken, almost. But he stayed strong, became the strongest he could and won the championship. That was the one thing Y/N couldn't bring herself to do. They were battling for the championship too. But when Y/N saw their 'almost dad' passing, they couldn't bring themself to make it. Or maybe, Y/N let Charles win.

'I went to congratulate Charles. I think. I don't know for sure. The only thing I remember was the fact that I had so many tears in my eyes, I almost couldn't see. It was almost as if I was under water. I couldn't hear who was talking to me. But, then my vision finally cleared, and I saw Charles. It made me cry even more. I got one look from him and it was like we knew what we wanted to say to each other in that moment. Yes, maybe he beated me in that championship, but that was the last thing important from that day.'

-An excerpt from Y/N's book: 'A way down'

They both got into F1 then. Charles in Alfa Romeo, and Y/N in McLaren. They both were happy, nervous, excited, still sad. But they were still kids in that time. The first year was fine, the next year, he got a girlfriend, Charlotte. Y/N was friends with her. Charles looked happier, and Kate was there for it. They both focused on their carreers. Y/N was succesful. The McLaren car suited them. They had a good rookie year. And Y/N was a bit happier again. The next year, not so good. Having issues with their car, but trying their best.

August 2019. Formula 2.  The crash of Anthoine. That shook Y/N. It took them one lap at the track to know that they couldn't. But Charles won. And they was proud.

"How was the funeral there, If I may ask?" 

"It was.. I mean it was bad. I wasn't doing good. And not just because of the death, but because I knew that my career was getting bad. And then, seeing that we all were there for it, I mean it kinda reunited us. I mean, Pierre and Esteban, mostly. Of course Charles was there too, but I always talked to him a lot. But it felt like I've lost those other two friends when we joined Formula 1.

Anyway, it was also the moment of.. realisation I think? Like I remembered all the losses at that moment standing there and it dawned on me. And from that moment, it got bad."

-Y/N being interviewed on the 'High performance' podcast.

It was kind of expected. Y/N was failing the last of the season, either crashing or just retiring from races. They couldn't handle all of it anymore. Then lockdown came, and Y/N announced retiring from Formula 1. Y/N took care of themself and post-breakup Charles. He was sad a lot, but he was streaming a lot too. They moved in with him. It was his idea. He saw Y/N sad and wanted to help them. So as they held him in their arms throoughout life, he returned the favour, at least slightly.

They talked a lot, hugged a lot, laughed a lot and cried a lot. It was needed after all those years. Spent holidays together at home, enjoying each other. And then they realised how in love with each other they've always been.

BREAKING: Y/N APPEARS WITH CHARLES ON THE SUZUKA CIRCUIT TO WALK THROUGH THE CIRCUIT AND PUT FLOWERS ON THE DUNLOP CURVE, TURN SEVEN, REMEMBERING JULES BIANCHIS, CHARLES'S GODFATHERS CRASH.

BREAKING: CHARLES AND Y/N REVEAL THEIR ONGOING LOVE RELATIONSHIP THAT STARTED IN 2020.

[tarasmithshifts]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 & 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅʀ: my name is tara smith, but i'm known as 'azrael'. in 2016 with my friends, kitty and jj formed a band we called 'utopia' and we started on youtube and soundcloud by doing covers, and when we got more popular, we made our first original song. it was called "SOS" (yup it's this one from ABBA but let's pretend yk) and it went viral on soundcloud and very popular on youtube. we got recognision, and it opened the door to music industry.

ᴍʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅʀ: kitty (lily buckley), jj (jack hart), billie eilish, willow smith, conan grey, harry styles and a lot of more!

ꜱ/ᴏ: billie eilish

ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ: we debuted with an ep called "CANNIBAL" as we watched "the show"Hannibal" while writing and it was a huge inspo for this ep. it was also a success, we went on small tour in venues. first in america, then in europe.

⍣ ೋ we went super popular after we released our first single from our first album called "LOST IN OUR PAST" (2019). it was a huge success. album was full of 70s beats, vocals, etc. we were nominated for multiple awards and won all of them. we became one of the most successful artist of the year, and later even in decade. Our tour sold out in few minutes, and so that's how we did our first world tour. we performed at grammys, the biggest festivals like coachella etc. we won grammys for best album, best group, best group performance, best single & song of the year. we weren't ready for this kind of success, critics after all called this album a "renaissance of 70s music" we became pioneers of group music then, we mixed modern pop, 70s & 80s. we did covers of old songs, and on our tour performed with multiple artists, like tears for fears, fleetwood mac (which was crazy!!!!). at the time me and kitty got together.

⍣ ೋ after the success, we had multiple fights in the band, but we were still making music together. I started to make solo music, but only for fun. we got to work with conan grey, and we made a song "killing me" (yupp also this one but let's pretend!!!) in 2021 our bands needed to split up, as jj decided to left.

⍣ ೋ it was a huge case, fans protested, wanted to know what happened, but we decided to stay quiet. everything was clear, jj wanted something else from life. he started to work as a "ghost writer"

⍣ ೋ after band has split up, i called my managment that i want to release solo music. i didn't want to give up on music because of this situation. week after official announcement from band, i posted info about my first single of my solo album "GLOBAL DRUGS"

it was a huge success, i didn't think that i would go on world tour and sing in stadiums again. i brought kitty with me.

some of fans favourites

⍣ ೋ in december 2022 after i finished tour and came back to u.s., my agent called me that he wants to meet me and kitty. we met 2 days later in new york, in a studio we recorded first ep as "utopia". when we came in, first thing we saw was jj talking to some people in the studio. well, we were so back.

⍣ ೋ in march 2023 out of nowhere we dropped our second album called "WE ARE STILL HERE" and people went CRAZYYY. we had no idea how this album is gonna shake the whole internet and critics. it was completely new - it was jazz, 70s, soul, r&b. something that people claimed we didn't fit. but here we are :)))

⍣ ೋ in may 2023 i attended my first ever met gala, and there, in an interview i confirmed that this was the last project of ‘utopia’ for now. i said “we disappeared out of nowhere and left you all without any information. this is something like a goodbye, but we do not confirm that it will last forever. it depends on our feelings.” i also confirmed that i will release music as solo artist and that kitty will join me as a drummer

⍣ ೋ in may 2023 a week after met gala, i showed the world my summer tour, and except the festivals of course, there were 4 stadium concerts, “bonus” ones, only in europe. Paris, Barcelona, Berlin and final one in London. that’s the time when me and kitty broke up, after, as media called it “London accident”. (there will be another post about it, but basically kitty got herself into alcohol and drugs, and during the London show for almost 2 hours we couldn’t find her, and when my team finally found her, she was completely not contacting with the world around her, and it was not the first time.she couldn’t perform and i didn’t want to cancel the show)

⍣ ೋ in september 2023 i started dating harry styles, but only to january 2024 - we realised that we would love be each other besties than lovers 🤭 (bc in this dr he is a little younger and one direction split up later than in cr, his album ��Fine Line” was released in 2024, and “Harry’s House” in late 2025)

⍣ ೋ in january 2024 i confirmed my second solo album, that will release 15/03 🫶

⍣ ೋ after release of this album, me and billie were spotted in public, spreading dating rumours, which we confirmed some months later

"ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴜᴛᴏᴘɪᴀ" - pinterest board

[zahri-melitor]

Okay. I’ve started Rebirth and read the opening stories of the following titles:-

Batman

Detective Comics

Nightwing

Batgirl

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey

I’m paused JUST before Night of the Monster Men and so I haven’t added All-Star Batman yet.

My first observation? Oh what a relief. It’s not perfect. There is work to do and it’s not a straight roll back to preboot but after reading my way through n52, characters and dynamics I recognise are back. It’s like DC suddenly remembered that people enjoy characters interacting with each other. And so, as best as I can tell, the concept was to sort of scatter everyone back to team positions that would make sense if the last comic you picked up was in 2011.

There is definitely some inferred off-screen characterisation going on: both Dick/Babs and Tim/Steph are extant relationships again. Dick and Babs had been longing ‘will they’ exes for the last 5 years of writing where they kept being out of sync with each other (the last time the two were actively dating on page was in 2003; the failed engagement was 2006, and they’d been caring exes shading back to flirting from about 2010 onwards). Tim/Steph broke up in 2004 and at BEST were amicable for 2009-2011.

Batman: Rebirth #1 – this is just a really lovely little stand alone issue that’s setting up Bruce taking Duke on as an active student. It’s just tightly written, with an interesting plot, nods at traditional characterisation, a less-used but known villain – it works really well as basically a training case for Duke. Note for everyone – Duke is still just a kid learning to be a vigilante at this point in the classic Robin model.

Batman #1-6 (2016): The team here is Bruce, Duke, Henry Clover and Claire Clover. This really feels like a back-to-basics storyline. The parallels between Henry and Bruce are not subtle, and they’re not meant to be; Bruce rescuing a family in his own situation and how it plays out is a well trodden story in DC, as is characters getting powers that the use of which ends up harming them. It was almost a modernisation of a Silver Age or Bronze Age story device that we’ve all seen plenty of times – which I guess makes sense for a Tom King story. I do have a soft spot for Claire here. This absolutely feels like a one-storyline-and-done set of characters (Gotham and Gotham Girl) who get hauled out occasionally in the future but mostly left alone. Waller seems somewhat more herself but unfortunately has still not recovered for her dieting. Every time they haul Psycho-Pirate out I wait for him to make some commentary on multiversal stuff, given he’s technically still on the shortlist of people who remember pre-Crisis, I believe?

Honestly, this storyline was mostly a relief after some of Snyder’s drama (said with full tongue in cheek over the fact it also included Bruce steering a crashing plane from the outside with cable and two rocket thrusters)

Nightwing: Rebirth #1 and Nightwing #1-4 (2016): This is very much a transitional storyline. It’s Dick’s story, but Damian, Bruce and Barbara are popping in and out of it. In terms of moving on fast from Grayson, the fact that Tim Seeley is writing this means that we don’t get a clean break (this is still basically a spy mystery story), but Dick putting back on the Nightwing suit with blue was such a moment of relief, I can’t tell you how big. He hadn’t worn that since 2009. It also unfortunately involves Court of Owls drama carried over from Batman & Robin Eternal and the 2011 Batman and Nightwing runs, but hey, Dick’s back talking to people, he sounds more like himself, he’s wearing BLUE, and he’s hanging out with Damian in a ‘I love him but he drives me up the wall’ way which is honestly not bad as characterisation. Also this line from Nightwing #2 (2016) stuck with me: “But Batman also taught me every life is worth saving. Even if it always seemed like I believed it more than he did.” While I have my quibbles over the second line (ACTUALLY Seeley that philosophy is pretty fundamental to Bruce), for Dick? At this exact moment in time? After recent events? It feels like a renewal. Every life is worth saving.

Damian here is an irritating little snot, but in the largely affectionate way he tends to get in better writing with Dick, and he’s still acting like a kid, which is always nice to see.

Detective Comics #934-#940: I’m not crying, my eyes are just watering, okay? Oh my GOD. This is Kate Kane, Tim, Cass, Steph and for some reason Basil Karlo on a team together. Okay. I see why Tynion’s run is considered a highlight. It’s not perfect, it’s in no way at all perfect, but Tynion took on an unenviable task (merging Tim, Cass and Steph into usable versions of their preboot characterisation/personalities grafted on to the existing situation of all three characters at the end of n52) and he did it in a way that spent a lot of time signalling that yes, he’s actually read their solo runs. They all had moments where they sounded like themselves and acted like themselves.

Tim still had his stupid arm computer and is at peak arrogance and at one point said “This is what happens when you give a sixteen-year-old genius who doesn’t sleep an unlimited budget” (sigh. SIGH. C’mon, Tynion) but my initial fears from the way the first issue was framed that Tim was going to be treated as less capable than Kate Kane (someone who, even in n52, Tim had spent more time as a vigilante than) were relieved by Tim slotting capably into the ‘support strategy’ role he is so good at. Of course as well then he is sort-of not-really playing around with the idea of moving on (he’s got his invite for university but you can read him as either ‘wanting to move on but trapped by Bruce inviting him back to being closer’ or as ‘Tim didn’t expect to get this, is stymied by it, and feels he’s being pushed about taking the opportunity if he lets people know’). It’s a concept he flirts with on occasion but can’t go through with. And then my sweet boy sacrifices himself and shows up Ulysses fucking Hadrian bastard Armstrong and… we get the acknowledgement that TIM IS THE GLUE. He’s just pulled this team into working together in a functional manner and we get “You were reconnecting threads that could not be reconnected. You’re so loved, so deeply intertwined. It became crucial that we take you off the field.” Which? He hasn’t been for 5 years of stories. That’s my boy, my fix-it Robin.

Steph…is sort of controlling and clearly lacking in training and has some edges to her and bickers with Tim? Which oh my god, I can see actual continuity with pre-War Games Steph here. It’s not perfect, she’s suddenly in an established relationship with Tim and quite focused on that, but I can see some Dixon in her! It’s a miracle!

Cass has had the hardest reboot of the lot and has lost 99% of her vocabulary and is back to her cryptid ways, but even there I can see Batgirl 2000 characterisation moments peeking through. She drops in the window while Tim is stripping down (Fresh Blood! FRESH BLOOD MY BELOVED. The parallels here!), she supports Tim during a fight but pushes Steph out of the way and takes over…that’s Cass’s assessment of their fighting abilities. That’s Steph overreaching her capacity and Cass dropping in to haul her out of trouble.

Kate Kane is very much Kate Kane and while I disbelieve that she and Bruce are really that close in age, this is the start of Rebirth and doing things like gently stretching back out the timeline so that we’re in Year 18 or so again, not Year 6. (Year 18 is rough back-of-the-envelope Year 3 = Graysons fall, Year 13 = ALPOD, Year 15 = NML, Year 17 = OYL to Reborn, then n52 is a single year). I like seeing her actually spend some time actively working with other Bat characters if she’s going to be fully integrated, rather than just turning up for events.

Batgirl #1-5 2016: oh Babs. While this run is winking at past Barbara characterisation (the use of Amy Beddoes as an alias! However there is no awareness that that is a name known by the Suicide Squad and Waller and not only heavily linked to Oracle, but to Barbara’s feelings about guns and Joker), it remains squarely in the ‘fluffy light storytelling that might be suitable for a 22-23 year old character but doesn’t match anything about Barbara Gordon’. I really wish this was good.

It is, I guess, an adequate tonal sequel to Burnside, and if that’s your Barbara you will probably enjoy it, but I can’t help but mentally want to slot every single one of these stories into a past history that occurred during Babs’ ORIGINAL stint at Batgirl.

The concept of Barbara going on a world training tour break isn’t bad and echoes Cass being sent off to Hong Kong (though Hong Kong is skipped over for Tokyo, Singapore, Seoul and Shanghai), but the heavy reliance on Barbara’s eidetic memory as her strong point and THEN Barbara ‘switching it off’ to be faster???

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey Rebirth & #1-6: It's Barbara, Dinah and Helena all on a team together? Miracles really do come true!

First point out of the gate: yes, I hate that this contains several take-thats at fans of Barbara as Oracle. I think they're mean spirited and exhausting to read. There is absolutely nothing wrong with fans of a team created by Oracle wanting to see it lead by ORACLE. THAT SAID, characterisationwise this is the closest I've had to my girls for a while.

Barbara is far more like Simone's n52 Batgirl than Burnside. She actually acknowledges aspects of her past, and the struggles it's brought with it and why that should have resulted in growth.

Dinah is unfortunately still running around as Dinah Drake Lance with the shitty n52 backstory retcon intact and reliance on the band stuff. Sorry, Dinah. The first run really didn't do much to recanonise anything preboot for Dinah, just outlined her new history, though Siu Jerk Jai got a few references.

Helena? Look. This is the fourth? version of Helena's origin I've read and it looks like it's most riffed off Huntress Year One, and it's sticking with Helena's mum having an affair, sigh. However, on the scale of "is this actually Helena Bertinelli", there is so much credit on the 'once again has a backstory that actually works as a Helena Bertinelli backstory' side of the ledger that I don't really care. This is about the process of rehabilitation, and Helena is not just a Bertinelli, but the first thing she does is butt heads with Barbara over their combined stubbornness and her refusal to take direction, soooo. Yeah, pretty stoked.

I will say, with this lineup of new histories, instead of being the "two cops' daughters and a mafia princess" group it's now the "Missing Mothers Who Might Be Evil Issues" team. Which is a downgrade. I wouldn't care about them bonding over their mothers so much if it wasn't stereotype missing mother hour.

Overall conclusion?

I became emotional reading Batman: Rebirth, 'Tec, and B&BOP. Even for their flaws they all were trying hard and hit me with what they were attempting to achieve.

This was in no way a complete fix, and heck DC is STILL untangling some of the threads that they started trying to fix here with Rebirth, 8 years later. But oh it is enjoyable to see writing teams actually try and act like yeah, people are allowed to like preboot characterisation.

[alphabetsoup-blogposts]

On the politics...

I would just reiterate that vis-a-vis committee management my constant mantra was "there is room for diverse voices at the table", "we are neutral" and "it's our job to do what we are asked to do". I simply do not know what else to say. Where in what I wrote or said on behalf of others or qua representative do you find a sliver of rhetoric? I do not think you do. It was impossible to ignore the fact of greater uncertainty but in my care to remain neutral, I feel like we almost did. Post June-2016 I gave several early talks, including in Paris, on the uncertainty ahead. In most cases I assumed that I had been invited in my personal capacity on the basis of expertise but, in any event, i made it clear that views were personal. Please note that any role I may have occupied involved 1) providing some level of education on risks; and 2) addressing those risks with suggestions for solutions. There were other—more glamorous—speaking opportunities, including a panel with Nigel Lawson, that I turned down EXPRESSLY because it would embarrass the old lady (to whom I formally owed nothing) if people heard me contribute to a political discussion and did not fully grasp the nuance of my position.

My own office was divided in two, like the country, but oddly enough it was divided cleanly along researcher vs administrator lines. Those that supported Brexit made their position known. I made my personal position known. That was all in passing. What was not in passing, however, was the clear fact that, at the time, 70% of our work focused on Brussels. Nothing could therefore alter the need to pivot quickly or the organisational risk of (eventual) falling demand. What I said at the end of June 2016 was that there would be more work in the near future and a risk of less in the long term. I gave a half day leave to absorb that message and then we got on with the job. No one could possibly say different.

Could I have disguised my views on Brexit in every interaction? Of course—don't assume that because I hate manoeuvring, I'm wholly unsophisticated—but if you imagine for one moment that I valued my career or salary, frankly, more than the global position of the UK, you are wrong. I simply see it the way I do—I see Brexit as a land grab for four valuable freedoms which had, up to that point, been owned by every British child. I saw it as a surrender of our stake in the most important historical peace project ever undertaken. I saw it as the wanton trashing of the UK's preeminently valuable and expert stabilizing influence over regulatory laws that were being made, in effect, for half the world. I had the opportunity to observe first hand how talented British professionals were being discarded and how part-British families in Brussels were torn asunder by the sudden upheaval. And, I recognised quickly that an FTA in the hand with one's neighbours is worth much more to SMEs than one in the bush with unreliable partners far away.

If you prefer to think of me as self-serving then recall that whatever I may have invested in my future was immediately disinvested. Or, to put it another way, there was no career to sacrifice because I did not want to be a part of the post-Brexit public sector.

To your point, however...what I think was happening is that the LT of whom you speak was grinding through some weird kind of "sting" of his own devising that occupied a large chunk of his rather misplaced attention. It's a minor point but he was the one trashing the then Prime Minister and the Brexit vote. Later he did the same with the very entryists he'd clucked over like a Mother Hen. He has an acid tongue and he used it regularly to denigrate both high falutin politicians and regular wage earners behind their backs. I did not join in—partly because I do not enjoy private takedowns but also because, as I say, my role required impartiality and the entryists deserved my protection.

[cantfeelmyfacebruh]

(So before anyone delves into this, I want to make it clear that this has been something that has take a long time finish, mainly because I would be doing it and then thing “why?” So yeah… I started it if I remember correctly back in October of 2016… yeah, yikes. For those of you that know what this is about, and if your the person that this happens to involve (and I some what hope it is), then congrats, I guess I was never truly being myself, but instead hiding my true feelings and what feels like demons for the longest time… I hope this reaches the eyes that it should and if anything needs to see it. Well, enjoy… oh and excuse any grammar errors… I was always shit at writing things).

So where do I even start? I know you did these kinds of things all the time. Expressing yourself on these platforms was something I always knew you did do and in a way, it helped. Not just you but also me so I knew what was going on and I could keep an eye on you and your feelings. I guess I can start this from the very beginning, and I mean the VERY beginning. 2012, the week building up to the 24th March, what a week and time to be alive. As hyped as I was for the up coming weekend and the events that would take place, my interests and excitement I guess you could say we’re also else where. I guess you could say I was falling head over heels. The silly thing was that I didn’t know who you were, of course apart from your name and that she clearly was into the same band as was. I knew about you for a while, mainly thanks to my best friend. But I don’t think I ever truly told you when I first laid eyes on you. It was a couple of months before everything would happen. One non school uniform day I would just so happen to be passing by on the way to maths, (miserable I know). At the time I had my headphones in and was listening to BVB and had no clue of what was going on around me, not until then. I caught a glimmer of you… I recognised the girl that you were walking with as I knew her from being the year below in my primary school. I was just dumbstruck and completely forgot where I was and what I was doing. A second later my best mate would come up and noticed I was watching something and would ask me what I was staring at? I told him “nothing”. Of course he wouldn’t take that answer as a no and would continue to persist about what was going on, so I asked him,

“that girl your gf is friends with? Rebecca right?” He would continue to say “yeah, what about her?”

“Who was the girl next to her?”

“The shorter ginger one?”

“Yeah her!”

He told me your name and that you were that girl’s best-friend and that you two were practically sisters. But also, you would be going to Wolverhampton just like we were on the 24th! I couldn’t believe the things he told me. I went home that following day feeling strangely odd… Your name and face was all I could think about! It was driving me mad but I couldn’t say anything to anyone, mainly for the fear of being I guess shot down… doubt started to cloud my mind. Every time after that I would see you go by now and again it always felt like the day just got a little bit brighter with every pass. Then one day, on that week, I finally decided I needed to do something about this. One night I was just scrolling through twitter and wouldn’t you believe it, you came up as suggested follow (good ol’ twitter, forever reading people’s minds). Even though I already knew the answer as my friend had told me, I had to ask! Mainly because I didn’t know what the fuck else to say!! I asked if you were going to the concert on the weekend, and in a matter of minutes I had a response. I nearly passed out before I even read the damn tweet! I was terrified what it could say! But I could not have been more thrilled with the hat the answer was… Yes.

Through the week leading up to the concert we spoke often, mainly getting to know one another and having laughs. We exchanged numbers and added each tiger on pretty much every form of social media possible. My heart was expanding with given minute. One of my favourite memories was that I remember coming out of the B block at school and seeing you there with Becca. I glanced over at you and you were hiding behind her and bit her! I wanted to come over and finally say hi face to face and well, I guess sweep you off your feet. But of course as a typical me thing I just smiled and walked on by… The warmth from your smile is still something I feel even today, and it’s a memory that i could never forget. The night finally arrived and we were all hyped as the best night of our lives was about to happen. But what I didn’t realise was how good the this night would turn out to be! We got into our seats and the first thing I remember was scanning around the room looking for you and my mates gf. Took us a while admittedly but I blame that on the fact it was so damn dark I couldn’t even see what was printed on my shirt, let alone trying to find a group of girls in a hall of thousands! But eventually we did! We came racing over and my friend’s gf was thrilled to see him, but I was again locked in a stare… even today I hope it wasn’t too obvious because I felt like it was… eep… Then I noticed your father… Jesus I nearly went white… You all got up to go and get drinks at the bar and naturally we came with. Damn I was being such a goof… I swinging on the table we were all around and even got you to hit me over the head with a poster, and quite frankly I still feel that hit today! Was a hell a wack I give you that! But I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t talk for the fact I was completely dumbstruck again! So I just did whatever I could to make you smile and laugh hoping it was enough. That night, was truly one of the best nights of my life… and yet what if didn’t know at the time was that it was about to get even better. I knew when we had sat back down in our seats and could seeing you having the time of your life throughout the entire show, even to the end where we had a our group picture, this was love… I was in love…

The following day would be one to remember. Me and the friends that went to the concert before hand went out as we always did on a weekend, expect this one would be slightly different. Of course I was texting you at the time and decided that we would come find you and ask you to join us! I remember you saying that you couldn’t really leave the house so we all just sat outside on the green, listened to music, spoke about the night before and just all had a nice chilled time. Of course the day would carry on through and we ended up going in to your place and would end up watching Kerrang on TV. Then one by one everyone started to leave to go home, except me… You and your parents offered if I wanted to stay for some pizza and of grouse I just had to say yes! I remember sitting there awkwardly because I had no clue what to say! But the main thing I remember was watching you in the corner of my eye, I couldn’t stop… Later that evening I would of course go home and as always be messaging you. This was to be the night I finally would ask you that question. I remember asking you and you replied that you’d tell me after I had my bath (oh lord) as I was just about to hop in one. Not going to lie but that was the fastest fucking bath I’ve ever had, all because I wanted to know your answer. So many emotions were flying round inside of me. I was so nervous I was pretty much shaking and was terrified to look at the phone when you had given me your answer, but you said yes. I nearly passed out with amazement. I couldn’t find the words to describe the feelings that I had. The following Monday, walking to school my knees were shaking when walking from from my grandparents, I couldn’t contain the excitement that it was literally making feel like I forgot how to walk… I got to school and was with the others, waiting, looking around to see where you were, then all of a sudden, you were there… I couldn’t believe it. I had you in my arms and I had this feeling that I knew, somehow that the future was bright. The next few months would be the first of the best months of my life.

The things we did, I remember your birthday and going bowling, our first date seeing that terrible “horror” movie (that bastard dog in the film that nearly made me have heart failure…). Going down onto the Ham and in the gardens by the river, our first holiday where I still have the photo of us on the wall outside the Swan Inn, I can never not smile at the photo… it hurts… Our first mop fair, our first Christmas and new years and so much more, I could go on for so damn long… those following years would carry on to be some of the best of my life… I still remember your prom… how you looked and how I could never find the words to describe the feelings that were inside me at that time. My only regret was that I couldn’t join you like our friends could… or course there were ups and downs within our time together, was bound to be. But there was something about us, this sense of feeling that no matter what was thrown our way, we would always get though it hand in hand. Guess Parachute were right, forever and always… I truly had my Fallen Angel, My Sweet Blasphemy…

Many concerts, moments and happy memories later, this Rebel Love Song was a dream made true. However, like all dreams, at some point I had to wake up… Life was about to take a turn that I never expected or ever wished to have happened… For me it stated when I had gone to another college. The pressure for me was on and I had no clue how to handle any of it… In my idiocy I would get carried away with doing others things and spending time on other things instead of using it with you… and in the end it pushed you away, and the stupid thing is, I never knew… My stress started to build up, I could feel it rise with every week and eventually it snapped, I snapped. And then, I found out what was going on…

My world fell apart, my heart smashed and burnt till there was nothing but dust and ash… I tried everything that I could to fix it and nothing… You were gone… my world shattered, now remaining to never have existed… My soul was broken. The nights after everything had ended were the worst nights of my life. I would disappear for hours, on my own not knowing where to go. I would often end up down the Lower Lode by the river, I would walk past your place and throw the cemetery. It never bothered me being alone that late at night. This one night when I was sat on the benches down there, I was drinking and scrolling through my phone. Looking at all of our memories… I was about to do something I had never done before. I prayed… A short while after I knew no one would have head me. I felt this cold and burning hot sense rush through my body, and just broke down in tears and just dropped everything. A few short minutes passed by and I just look across the water and just saw black… I screamed. Rage consumed my body and I just screamed and lashed out at the world around me. My view on the world changed that night… no one heard me and all I felt was hatred. I hated myself, everyone around me, the world, you and most of all him… Even now the name of him makes my blood boil. My hatred made me even more destroyed… I was losing the very will to hang on. I decided that night that I wanted to die… I wanted to die. I had nothing to loose anymore. What is a life worth when there’s nothing in it?

After some time (a week or so) I decided that my bitterness wasn’t helping me through the days. I decided I needed to try and start putting my heart and life back together, though of course I would never truly succeed. My life was a wreck, I wouldn’t eat, I would not sleep. I was going into college and work looking like death (I’m sure you remember). I was pale as I never wanted to be outside for the fear of seeing you with him… That’s when I decided I would do the worst thing I had ever done, I would put on a mask. I started to hide my true feelings behind a fake face. Ah yes… the lovely happy go lucky goofy me… what a joke. And yet everyone fell for it. Everyone thought I had these strong feelings and clearly was able to push through all the shit that happened in the last couple of months. Little did everyone know though, I was still broken under it all. I would go to college and be the guy that everyone would love in class and made some amazing friends. At work everyone thought I was happy for you and knew a new horizon awaited me else where… When in actual fact only a few knew how I truly was feeling. Now I never knew whether if you ever saw it, but if you didn’t then well… you know now.

Things started to slightly change after March of this year. Of course I’m sure you probably know why and who I’m on about. Of course she had this effect on me that was amazing and helped me out of this vicious cycle of hatred and regret. Though it wouldn’t complete pick me back up, she did do wonders. Of course at this point you were still with him. But I started to do something I thought I would never be able to do. I started to forgive you… I started to realise my faults with how everything happened. And that if I had done anything about it then perhaps, maybe we would never have left each other. But it was too late… Now of course you know how things went for me. I was with her, and as you know I was off to see her this summer. Obviously as you know I had a great time and it really helped my soul. It gave me hope that things were getting better. But soon I would start to question what was happening with you. Things from what I saw it wasn’t going great… And yet I knew something was also bugging you. I remember you coming to me the first weekend I was back working. You came to me pretty close and said “your mum says your in love, is that true?” For a moment I was confused, I didn’t really know what to say to that? I was thinking why is she asking me this? I gave you your answer of “yeah, I think so” and you just stormed off… all day you would avoid me. I took me a while to figure it out but I never truly would know for certain, did you regret what happened? A while after I remember you would invite me out now and again to go to Spoons or even “have a catchup”. I knew why these things would be asked and once happened. Yes I would keep my eye on you, not to be creepy or anything bad, but because I still cared. The one evening we would meet up at Spoons and he didn’t know you were there. I was confused as to why we did this or what the motive was honestly. But something came to me that evening after I was home… those feelings I had thought that had subsided, that hadn’t gone… But what could I say? Nothing… and yet it’s nearly been a year since it all happened, what the fuck could I even have said? Like I said, nothing…

————————————————————————————

Jesus… it’s 2018 and I’ve stumbled on this! I guess I never did finish it. But then if I remember right, I never thought there would be a point. But then again, I guess I’m back now, so might as well continue.

So where do I start? Well I guess with that life has treated me alright I suppose since. The nightmares are more common but I suppose that’s something I’ve gotten use to over time. Probably a bad thing that I’ve been getting use to them honestly… But it’s brought me back some strange memories that, okay I will admit I have thought about now and again but no often (pretty much like once or twice every two months or so). These memories vary honestly, some are bad, some are good and some are just leave questions that honestly I don’t think I’ll ever get the answers too… The one memory that comes now and again is what you said that one night before it all ended… “A part of me will always love you… and maybe one day it’ll happen again.” At the time I held on to those words with every fibre of my being. I sometimes wondered if that was the reason I nearly tore myself apart to the point of complete self destruction. But at the same time it makes me wonder if you still perhaps mean that, or whether if you ever meant it at all…

For some reason people (friends, etc) still keep me up to date with how you are or that you’ve said something on Tumblr. I honestly wonder why people still tell me these things. Do they perhaps think I still care? Do they know? I thought I had it all hidden and had destroyed those feelings. I mean does anyone stop truly caring about things like that? Did you? Again a question that I’ll probably never get an answer too… When these people would tell me something about you’ve said of course I would look. Mainly because curiosity would over take me and I guess other reasons… I saw what you would write. I often wondered whether if you made these posts with the idea that perhaps I would see them. But it made things clearly (ish) to me. I saw what you wrote about seeing me in another relationship. How it made you feel and the pain it would cause. Was this because you’d till cared? Another was about never being on your own since you were 15 and fear of being alone was too much to handle. I won’t lie, I felt that… Others were about this guy that you loved so much and was scared of him hurting you again and again and it made me wonder who you were on about. Of course a part of me would make me think that you were on about, well… him… But then again I guess at the same time I probably didn’t really want know.

Another memory was not even from one of those “dreams”. It actually came to me because I was out long boarding not too long ago. Was just going around the lanes through and around town. Was nice really, just music, monster and wind flying on past me. And yeah, I went down the road past your house. Not really sure why but I guess it’s probably because of the slight slope that goes down, past the green. Pretty sick to go down not going lie, but the pot holes would make anyone else think otherwise. Speaking of which, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE GREEN?! ITS A DAMN CAR PARK!! I was just watching as I went past and I was like “woah…” Guess that shows how fast things change when you don’t really pay attention to them. Then again, I guess there was no reason to I guess.

———————————————————————————

Well safe to say that I forgot about this yet again… was scrolling through some old stuff trying to find something and came across this. I should really finish it… But at the same time what is there to say?

I guess it some cases I do want to say that.l, I’m happy. Not just with how things are for me but also for you. Now and again I bump into your dad and say hi, not sure if he ever mentions it but I guess that’s not for me to know. But I always tell ask how the family is, how your mum is and of course how you are. Congrats by the way. Guess I can’t say I’m surprised about you finally being a mother, but the same time I’m glad! You always were naturally amazing round kids.

I’m happy that you have found what you were looking for. You know, I do think to myself now again that those two Rebels are still out there somewhere. Causing mayhem, listening to music waaaaaayyy too fucking loud as always. Of course that’s all I wanted for you… I never wanted things to be sour, to be awful. Of course I know that I’m to blame for some of it… but I guess in the end it all worked out in the end… I guess, and well… hope.

Hope you found this, I don’t know, something I guess. I won’t be doing anymore to this… part of me doesn’t feel like it’s right but at the same time it also helps. Who knows, maybe I’ll post this one day. Guess we’ll have to see… But I will leave you with one other thing. Throughout all this time, I’ve had scars from all of this, cracks that will never disappear if I’m completely honest. But for the first time in a long time. I finally feel happy. Like those scars have finally healed. For sure yeah they won’t disappear, but hey, I guess that’s life. I’m glad you’ve found happiness, and so have I.

See you around…

[tgh2023]

Tinkesh Kaushik: The Unstoppable Fitness Trainer

“Our only limitations are the ones we set up in our own minds”. This great saying by Napoleon Hill is true to its very core. With perseverance and firm determination, one can surely conquer the world. Walking on the path of firm determination, Tinkesh Kaushik never surrenders because of the difficulties. A triple Amputee Fitness Trainer, Tinkesh Kaushik is a true warrior who overcomes all obstacles with his courageous nature. 

Along with being a Fitness trainer, Tinkesh is recognised as the First Asian triple Amputee to perform bungee jumping at Canyon Swing in Nepal. He is also a blade runner, para-cyclist and a TEDx Speaker. Tinkesh also won the title of “Rubaru Mr India 2022”. Let’s hear the story of Tinkesh Kaushik in his own words. 

Tell us something about yourself and about your journey.

Belonging to the Jhajjar district, Haryana, I am a fitness trainer, model and motivational speaker. My life changed completely when I got an electric shock at the age of 9. On 29th December 2002, while playing on the rooftop I touched a high-tension electric wire of 11,000 volts. The shock was so severe that my legs and one hand burned severely in the incident due to which the doctors had to amputate my legs and hands. 

With the support of my family and friends, I completed my graduation in 2015. The lack of physical activities over all these years resulted in weight gain and that is when I began my fitness journey in 2016. 

A video of mine went viral on the internet when I participated in Marathon in Delhi. That video also gave me a donor who granted me prosthetic legs. After that, I worked with this organisation to help differently-abled people to make them independent. That’s how my journey started. 

How has your definition of life changed from that incident?

My life changed drastically after that incident. I could not go outside and play like other children. My life was kind of limited in my room during those days. Everyone started thinking that I will always need the support of someone. But I was determined that I will become self-dependent. And I think because of that willpower, I become what I am today.

I strongly believe that life is how we make it. I am perseverant to conquer the world and nothing can stop me from reaching the heights. 

What was the role of your parents and friends in your Journey?

My parents have been my biggest strength and support in my entire journey. When I was small, my mother was the one who used to take me to school and bring me back home every single day. Even my friends were very supportive and helped me during school time. They were always ready to help me whenever I needed anything. Without the support of my parents and friends, I might not have been able to achieve my dreams. I’ll always be grateful for having them in my life.  

What are you currently working on? What are your future plans?

Every day I am looking forward to doing something new. Currently, I am planning to do a base camp at Everest which no triple amputee has attempted before. In addition to this, I am planning a cycling drive from Goa to Kanyakumari that no differently-abled people have attempted in India. 

What message do you want to give to your readers?

I just want to say that everyone has their own problems and challenges, it depends on us how we handle them. It all depends on our mindset. If you have a strong mindset, you can make impossible things possible.

[ultramaga]

"“Our analysis shows that Ashkenazi Jewish medieval founders were ethnically admixed, with origins in Europe and in the Middle East, roughly in equal parts”"

So they are not mostly European.

Whereas the Arab conquest was definitely a push into various regions by people not native to those regions, and is also documented beyond doubt.

Note: It is medically dangerous to confuse Ashkenazis with Europeans. You will hurt people if you do that. Although they do have one mutation in common.

When Dan Slott et al proposed a ginger genocide, I wonder which group he had in mind.

The high percentage of gingers in Israel can be attributed to Ashkenazi origins and Haplogroup R1b (Y-DNA), the dominant paternal lineage of Western Europe. Although, in fact, Scotland has the world’s highest percentage of redheads, at 16%. It is possible that Dan Slott simply hates the Scottish, but, honestly, I doubt Dan Slott is even aware of their existence. Dan Slott doesn't strike me as the sort of person who would recognise a globe if they saw one.

But it does amuse me that the Dan Slotts of the world were calling for the death of their opponents on the grounds that everyone outside their group was antisemitic, then five minutes later they called for a holocaust of the Jews of Israel. The eradication of their racial enemies began in fiction, and spread out from there to history, and it began with Europeans and moved to Jews. I have no doubt they will move on to other races if they manage to achieve this goal.

But I do find it funny that those deemed racially correct are always of mixed European heritage. Like Zendaya, who is in basically everything as being "black" and therefore perfect. her mother has German and Scottish ancestry.[8][5][7]

Takeda, Allison (June 9, 2015). "Zendaya Gets to the Heart of Her Family Tree for Immigrant Heritage Month". Us Weekly. Archived from the original on July 1, 2016. Retrieved July 9, 2020. "Oakland's Zendaya earns her first Emmy nomination for role in 'Euphoria'". Oakland, California: KGO-TV. July 28, 2020. Archived from the original on January 22, 2021. Retrieved December 31, 2020. 'This is my home,' said Zendaya about her trip to Oakland. 'I was born and raised here...' Kim, Kristen Yoonsoo (December 2015). "Real Good". Complex. Canada. Archived from the original on September 14, 2016. Retrieved July 9, 2020. Being a young African-American woman, it's important to know where you come from. ... My mom and my grandma do tons of research on where we're from [on the maternal side]: Scotland and Germany. Devoe, Noelle (June 10, 2015). "Watch Zendaya Trace Her Roots in This Inspiring New Video". Seventeen. Archived from the original on April 17, 2023. Retrieved April 18, 2023.

"Being a young African-American woman, it's important to know where you come from." You aren't African, Zendaya. You're just another American who wants to feel superior to those around you.

[chrisevansredbelt]

Small World

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst. a bit of arguing. mention of the 2016 paris attack. reader being kind of lonely. i guess civil war and ultron spoilers hahahah hopefully everyone has already seen the films tho... but just in case. tbh… maybe a smidgen of like size kink hahahahhaha i’m such a whore. mention of torture, mentions of hydra.

summary: the arrival.

wk: 5.8k

a/n: ahhhhhh, one of the three series im focusing on! probably my fav tbh 😍... bit of a spoiler... some proper steve smut 

i have also twisted SOME parts and some canon parts of the original storyline! so if there’s something like chronologically wrong then just close ur eyes xx it’s probably just a hallucination

series masterlist here!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

Your heart drops a little as the echo of the knock sounds throughout your house. Until you remember you’re safe. You’re far away and safe and no one bad would ever find you here.

You quickly realise that it’s also Sunday morning and it was probably just the milkman reminding you yet again to put your bottles out. You always forgot. But he was nice about it.

Grabbing your empty milk glasses from their upside down place on the drying rack, you hold them cautiously as you near the front door.

You don’t even hesitate pulling the front door wide open- assuming it actually was the milkman and that he was on a time crunch and you were only slowing him down.

Which was why, when you were in fact not met with the milkman and rather four nervous faces… you froze in your spot.

Your eyes immediately land on one particular face in your effort to scan all of them. Steve.

You were surprised you even recognised him that quick. He looked so different. Different from when you last saw him anyway. He had a beard and his hair was much longer. He looked bigger too, more muscular. He looked nice.

You quickly realise you’re staring and move on to the next person- however quite literally gasp in fear as you recognise the woman.

You drop one milk bottle and step backwards, shielding yourself with the door and uncaring to the glass bottle that rolls to their feet.

“It’s okay!” Sam holds his hands out, grabbing the bottle that rolled to his feet. You look from her to him to Steve and back to him with hesitant eyes, “She’s good now. She’s with us.”

You eye her from behind the door. Well… if she wanted to kill you- or any of them, she would’ve done so by now. Your first initial thought was that she was a hostage, but she looked pretty close to Steve. Maybe… maybe they’re together?

As you widen up the door again and take the bottle from Sam’s extended hand, you look down in embarrassment, avoiding Steve and Wanda’s eyes the best you can.

“We’re sorry to turn up so unannounced, but it’s an emergency.” Sam starts. Your eyes flicker up to his when he says the word ‘emergency’. What kind of emergency? Are they safe? Is someone after them? Is someone after me? So many questions, “Can we please come in?” He asks tentatively with pleading eyes.

You obviously weren’t aware of much. But with the way Sam was begging with his eyes, Natasha keeping quiet and seemingly alert and Steve sporting a full beard, you assumed something wasn’t right and they needed some kind of help. 

You nod almost immediately, “Y-Yeah, of course.” Though your voice doesn’t sound so confident as you step to the side and let them in to your home. Heavy, dirty boots litter your wooden floor but you don’t find it in you to care that much. Once Steve- who was at the back of the pack, enters, you shut the door behind them and lock it for safe measures, before turning back to them and asking, “How did you guys even find me?”

You try not to acknowledge the close proximity to Steve now as you look among the group.

“Oh, uh- we…” Sam stutters, glancing at the others and you guess, silently debating whether to tell the truth or lie… he decides on the truth, “We followed you- from the market,” You furrow your brows curiously, prompting him to continue, “We were staying in that abandoned house near the town and Natasha said she saw you so we followed your car.”

You weren’t mad or freaked out by any means. It was actually kind of funny to think about, “Small world.” You hum. Of all the places they could’ve stayed, they’re in your home town? A bunch of farmland and cottages in the middle of nowhere? “Is everything okay? Why are you staying in abandoned houses?”

They all look to each other with semi-furrowed brows, before Sam is speaking again, “I’m guessing you haven’t been watching the news.”

You blink at him, glancing to your TV through the doorway that leads to your living room area, “No, I-“ They follow your gaze to the tiny box of a TV.  It is literally encased in a wooden box- they would all be surprised if it even worked, “It was left here by the last owner.” You explain, fiddling with your fingers- also a little embarrassed by it all of a sudden as they look to you with raised brows, “But it only plays old, black and white French movies and France news... So, unless you had something to do with the attack then-“

Sam shakes his head. Not that you actually thought that they did- well, you really didn’t know what to think. The last time you saw all of them was in Iowa. Speaking of, where are the others? 

There’s a thick, almost confused silence in the air as you continue to look up at them all unknowingly. You really had no idea. Not only had you cut yourself off from the team... you had cut yourself off from the entire world. 

“We uh-“ Steve starts and you’re a little embarassed by how quick you are to turn to look at him now. It was the first time he’d spoken since he got here- and the first time he’s spoken to you in years. You missed his voice... it sounded deeper, “We’re on the run.” He briefly explains and you open your mouth a little, “Natasha and I broke the others out of prison and now we’re all fugitives.”

You look to Natasha, then to Sam and Wanda, before back to Steve, “Prison?”

“We better sit down for this,” Sam sighs. 

And so, you take them further into your house so you’re not all lingered in the foyer. You sat them all down in your large kitchen, letting them take their bags off and giving them all a cup of either ice water or orange juice. 

Once everyone was settled, you took a seat at the dinner table, waiting for them to start.

They told you everything. Everything you had missed after you had left New York and effectively shut yourself off from the rest of the world. 

The whole civil war between Steve and Tony, Zemo, the Sokovian accords, Vienna, how Wanda joined them, Bucky, Clint and some Scott guy who’s an ant? The Siberian facility. The raft? Steve and Bucky going to Wakanda and only Steve coming back. Then joining with Sam, Nat and Wanda on the run as fugitives. 

“And that leads us to now.” Sam finalises, taking a much needed drink of his water that had condensed all over his coaster. 

There’s a comfortable silence as everyone allows you to take in all this new information. You hadn’t asked a single question or barely even spoke a word except for your incessant nodding to show that you were following along. 

Once you’ve pieced together all of the events in your head, you inhale, “Good thing I left when I did.” Is all you thought of to say. 

It works to lighten the mood a little as everyone smiles softly. Well, Steve small smile lasts about a millisecond before he’s frowning, memories and emotions hitting him like a truck as he’s reminded of your lack of presence during it all.

It’s silent again, but this time a bit of a collective, nervous silence. But you know how to fix it. Now that you know why they’re here. 

“You can all stay here for as long as you need.” You nod. They all seem to deflate. In a good way! Relax. You could literally see it if you looked around the table, their muscles weren’t so tensed, their jaws weren’t locked and their senses weren’t so alert. 

“Thank you.” Sam rubs your arm and you nod with a small smile. 

The company would be nice. Perhaps you needed this more than they did. 

-

And so, you help them settle in to your home. You had a heap of spare bedrooms, however, they were filled with clutter, coated with dust and cobwebs so they weren’t exactly usable. But it was okay, apparently, they figured if they slept in the living room on mattresses, it would make a quick getaway if they needed to. And if they’ve learnt anything about being on the run, its to stick together. 

Which is why they’re helping you take out all the mattresses you can find and bringing them downstairs to the living room. The living room is also, probably the biggest room in the house- the study room a close second, but it too is littered with clutter and books and large oil paintings left by the last owner. 

While the others move your furniture around to make extra space for their beds, you’re in the laundry room finding enough bedsheets and blankets to keep them all warm. And Wanda was kind enough to give you a hand.

“I’m sorry I gave you a fright.” She says as stacks a few piles of sheets into a washing basket with wheels. 

You shake your head, folding a large blanket to top the pile, “No, I’m sorry for reacting like that.” You apologise, extremely embarrassed for 1. being so dramatic and 2. probably humiliating her and making her feel like a threat to you, “Just- the last time I saw you you were…” You trail off, not wanting to come off offensive in anyway and eventually just shaking your head again and holding out your hand, “Start over?”

She smiles down at your hand before shaking it with her own, “I’m Wanda.”

“Y/N.” You laugh softly, glad she matched your energy. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, by the way.” She says as she grabs a blanket to fold and add to the pile, “You didn’t even know me and you barely hesitated.” 

You just shrug, “It’s actually really nice to have some company.” 

It’s also really nice to see Steve again. He was yet to talk to you one-on-one. He hardly looked at you. There weren’t enough mattresses so he was taking the pull out couch in the study room. He didn’t mind at all, and the study room was right across from the living room so they weren’t entirely split up.

You would have gladly offered him the spot next to you in your bed- No. No. 

You aren’t together anymore. He didn’t love you like he loved him. He probably likes Wanda now. 

“Oh-” Wanda squeaks, breaking you out of your thoughts. You stare at her worriedly, waiting for her to finish what she was saying or say what was wrong... But she stops herself and just offers you an uneasy smile, “These sheets smell like my old house.” She quickly lies. 

“Oh,” You smile, bringing up the sheets to your noise and slightly grimacing at the strange smell, “Yeah, I bet. This place is so old.” She just laughs, thankful you didn't catch on to her as you finish folding one last blanket. 

Alright, a blanket and sheet for everyone. Now to find some pillows. 

-

You shut the fridge with your hip, both hands occupied with the two cans of soda in your hands. 

Heading towards the back door, you nudge it open, catching the attention of Sam who has found the comfortable spot of your red and white striped swing chair. 

You smile at him warmly, holding up the two cans of soda before plopping down next to him on the chair- making the chair swing even harder for a moment and Sam snickers. 

He takes the can from your hand gratefully and cracks it open. You pull your feet up and get comfortable, resting your muscles after running around the house for the past few hours making sure everyone had everything they needed. 

You sigh once you’re comfortable enough and lean against Sam’s big shoulder. 

“Nice place.” He breaks the silence and you snort, rolling your eyes. 

“It’s rundown, I know.” Your house definitely wasn’t a five star hotel. It needed a lot of work, it creaked, it flickered, it leaked. But it was home. 

It was warm, quiet and big. What more could you really ask for? Maybe a few friends or family. A dog even.

“No, it’s nice. Adds to the character.” He beams, “It’s bigger than Clint’s house.”

Your heart pangs a little as you look over the horizon at the setting sun, “I wouldn’t know.”

It’s only then that Sam realises what he’s said. What that place meant for you- the memories it brought back- or lack thereof.

He looks over at you and purses his lips, “Sorry.”

You just shake your head, “No, it’s okay.” You look down at your soda can, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve said something-“

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t have listened.” You curse yourself for lashing out a little, your anger… resentment evident in your tone.

But Sam understands. That was the best part about Sam. He understood.

He lets you cool off by staying silent, letting you sort out your thoughts and emotions. Once you take a sip from your can, he knows you’re okay again.

“You should talk to him.” He suggests tentatively. You turn tk him with a raised brow and an expression that doesn’t know whether he’s joking or not, “I know he wants to talk to you.”

You scoff, looking down at your toes, “Isn’t he dating Wanda?”

“What? No-“ Sam is quick to shut down your allegation, “No, they’re just- he-“ He looks behind you, over to the large, opened window that leads to the living room where- sure enough! Wanda and Steve are sitting side by side talking. You turn back around to Sam with a quirked brow, “They’re not together.” You raise your brow higher- genuine concern as to whether he saw what you just saw in that window, “They’re just good friends.”

You look back over at the window and stare shamelessly at the two. Steve talks to her- it looks like something important and she listens intently. That used to be you- until he stopped talking to you. Wanda nudges his side and he smiles brightly for the first time that day- the first time you’ve seen his smile for a long, long time. As Wanda turns to look out the window, you whip back around and slump in your spot on the chair, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”

Sam hums, “Maybe you don’t have to say anything to make up.” He looks down at you and wiggles his brows.

“You wanna sleep outside?”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands up in defeat. But still, you can’t help the small smile that grows on your face. If you were asked, you couldn’t give an exact reason as to why you were smiling. It just felt nice. You felt normal again. Like you had dreamed the last year and a half of your life and everything was actually all okay and you hadn’t run away from all your friends.

“Showers all yours, Wan,” Natasha emerges from down the large staircase, hair still dripping wet as she towel dries it in one of the fluffy towels Y/N had let them use.

Wanda beams at the thought of a nice, hot shower and smiles softly at Steve before heading up the stairs. As Natasha heads for the kitchen, Steve is left alone in the living room.

Leaning his back against the window, he shuts his eyes momentarily, basking in the comfort of peace and… serenity. Of course, he’s still on edge- on edge that they’ll find them here and possibly even hurt you in the process. But for now, they’re safe.

Upon hearing the familiar sound of your hearty laugh outside, he whips his head around to glance outside the window. He sees you and Sam, sitting on some swing chair as you both watch the sun go down.

Steve just purses his lips, wishing it was him sitting next to you, watching the evening turn into night, drinking whatever overly sweet, sugary soda you’d give him.

He would never admit it to you, but the raspberry fanta was always his favourite- no matter how much you joked about how the only reason he didn’t like it was because it would probably give him a heart attack.

And maybe he was just being… hopeful, maybe it was all in his head, but Wanda asking him so many questions about you made him curious. What did she know that he didn’t? What did she want to know so bad? What kind of puzzle was she piecing together?

Ah, it was probably all in his head.

-

You try not to let your head swell too big with the sight before you. The whole, family, last supper feast you had cooked for your visitors was being absolutely demolished.

There was a point where the table had gone completely silent because everyone was just so… focused on eating and filling their seemingly empty stomachs.

I mean, you knew they were on the run, but you didn’t think they were nomadic! You thought surely they were able to buy the foods they needed in order to stay… alive!

Sam is the first to put down his knife and fork, leaning back in his chair as it creaks and place his hands over his bloated stomach, “I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.”

Natasha seconds Sam with a hum, mouth full of food and you giggle.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate with company,” You counter, sipping on your drink.

Most nights you quite literally would eat dinner at the table all alone. Maybe you’d have a crossword in front of you or a book or a puzzle. The one off chances you felt like watching some French TV you would sit in the living room until you got bored and went back to your book.

You did a lot of reading. Surprisingly, the last owner also had a lot of books- in English too, thank God. Many of them were classics you had never read before either: Little Women, Alice in Wonderland, Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice.

It sounds unrealistic, you knew that. If you had been told years ago that that’s how you would be spending possibly the rest of your life, you probably would’ve laughed.

But it wasn’t all bad. If you weren’t reading, you were gardening, if you weren’t gardening you were cooking, if you weren’t cooking you were napping, if you weren’t napping you were cleaning, if you weren’t cleaning you were reading. Simple as that really.

A weekly trip to the market, a one-off interaction with the milk man if you forgot to put your bottles out and a wave to the postman. That was it.

You watched, one by one, as they all leaned back in their creaky wooden chairs, bloated beyond belief and plates practically licked clean.

Then, as they finally took sips of their beers and wines, that was when things got interesting. Sam was definitely the loudest, to which Natasha wittily countered… to which spring out an argument about who was the loudest out of the two.

You just laughed with the rest as you collected everyone’s plates for washing up.

As soon as Steve saw, however, he had abruptly stood from his chair, the legs screeching against your floorboards. He then started picking up the plates in the middle of the table, helping you out.

You smiled softly at him but kept your head down the rest of the way through.

He followed behind you as you entered the kitchen and placed the plates into the sink. He followed suit, placing his pile next to yours. As you turn on the sink, you both reach for the dish sponge and he grabs it before you can and you look up at him curiously, “I got it.”

God, he’s so tall. Was he always so tall? You literally have to crane your neck up to look at him. His beard is nice.

When you realise you’re staring, you panic. You really hoped he didn’t notice or, if he did notice, that he wouldn’t be so weirded out by it. So all you do is just nod with a soft, grateful smile and a small, “Thank you.”

God, why was that so painful?

-

Turning off all of the unused lights and doing your ritual rounds of ensuring all the doors and windows were sealed and locked, you returned to the living room where everyone was settling into their mattresses.

You had profusely apologised for not having a TV, figuring they could probably use a bit of entertainment. But they assured you it was okay and that your multitude of board games and puzzles were enough. Steve and Wanda sit in the corner of the room, where her bed is by the window- they’re playing Uno. And Sam and Natasha are by the fireplace solving arguing over a puzzle.

“Is everyone warm enough?” You ask tiredly, scanning the room and almost giggling at how reminiscent this all was. It looked like one big sleepover- well it was. They all give you verbal and non-verbal confirmations, along with small thank you’s. You stifle a yawn to smile softly at them all, “Goodnight.” You bid to them as you begin climbing up the stairs.

You’re surprised how tired you are- in a sense that, you feel like you should be way more tired. You quite literally just took on the role of a mother, preparing beds, cooking, cleaning. You usually took a nap on Sunday’s, but obviously today you didn’t. Yet, you still felt as tired as normal. Strange.

Either way, you know that a few minutes after your head hits the pillow, you’ll drift asleep, so there’s not much complaining.

You showered after dinner, after everyone else had showered before you. You were a little disappointed with the little amount of hot water left but you made do. These guys probably haven’t had a nice, hot shower in months, it was what they needed more than you. Besides, lukewarm water still got the job done.

So, all you needed to do to go to bed was to brush your teeth and moisturise. You were almost running out of toothpaste after everyone had borrowed some. You made a mental note to go on a shopping spree tomorrow and stock up on everything. You’d probably have to go into town, town. Like not to the market with all the homemade stuff- but the big supermarket they had recently built. That way you wouldn’t look so suspicious buying your seemingly end of world supplies.

As you finish with the bathroom, you turn off the light- in the process, colliding with a hard chest and almost- almost having a genuine heart attack.

“Jesus, Steve-“ You don’t know how you knew it was Steve before you even looked up at the chest you had made contact with. But you guessed having slept on the very chest every night for two years might’ve helped.

He holds both of your arms so you don’t stumble backwards, and you’re extremely close to him as he practically holds you against his chest. Your hand that flew over your heart slowly feeling your heart rate go back down.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologises and loosens his grip on your arms when you not-so-subtly eye his hands. But you internally frown at the lack of contact.

Swallowing thickly, you wave a hand, “It’s- It’s fine.” You quickly assure him, “Are you okay? What do you need?”

He sighs, hoping you would’ve known exactly why he was standing right in front of you, “I just wanted to talk.”

You lead him into your room after rationalising that standing in the hallway, so close to the stairs where the others could hear probably wouldn’t have been the best idea. Also, your legs were very tired and you couldn’t bare the thought of standing for another second.

As you enter your room and switch on the light, Steve takes a moment to take it all in.

He had only told Wanda this, not wanting to give Sam the satisfaction of being right after being teased the whole day that your house was like a time machine for him. It looked like something straight out of the 40’s. The TV, the piano, the goddamn milk bottles.

Stepping into your bedroom, it made Steve feel like… Made him feel like it was the 40’s… and he finally did get the luck of finding a girl who loved him enough to let him into her house after meeting her parents.

And maybe that’s why you chose it. Maybe you thought it would bring Steve back to you- or someone like Steve.

He quickly shakes those thoughts off as the sound of you pulling the curtains shut rip through the room.

“Thanks for letting us stay. Really, I- I don’t know what we would do without you.” He starts off, totally off topic from what he wants to talk about but he figures he’s the last person of the group to have thanked you… and it’s an icebreaker.

You avoid eye contact, laughing softly as you undo your neat bed, “I’ll be honest, if it wasn’t for the beard, I don’t know if I would’ve believed you guys.” You joke and Steve feels a tense weight lifted off his shoulders at your playfulness. Okay, you’re joking around- maybe this won’t be as awkward as he imagined.

He smiles and brings his hand up to his jaw, stroking his beard, “You don’t like it?”

You squint your eyes at him, tilting your head, “It’s very…” You choose you word carefully, “Nomadic.” Steve doesn’t know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment… but it is the truth, “It’s neat, I’ll give you that. I can buy some razors tomorrow when I go shopping if you like?”

“I don’t know, I think I might keep it.” He says, still rubbing his beard. He liked the beard. He felt like a different person with it. It was very fitting, he was no longer the clean-shaven, star spangled icon. He was the fugitive, on the run from the law. You just nod, opting to sit at the edge of your bed, in front of Steve now, “Thank you, though.” He says again, “Really, Y/N, I can’t thank you enough for all you’re doing for us.”

You just shrug. No matter how many times you had been thanked today, you still had no clue what the proper response was, “The company is nice.” You nod. There’s a silence then and you hate it and opt to fill it immediately, “Is this all you wanted to talk to me about?”

You hoped that didn’t come off so rude. You were just genuinely curious. And if that really was all he wanted to talk about, you would be fine with it! It’s nice to talk. But you know there’s much more that you need to be talking about with Steve-

“Why did you leave?” He asks, arms now crossed over his chest as he leans against your chest of drawers across from you.

You furrow your brows, looking at him incredulously as you replay the question in your head, but come up short with what exactly he’s talking about, “What?” You ask, the tone and the ambience between you two having totally shifted now, “Why did I leave?” You ask again, and Steve remains in nodding, like nothing he had said was factually incorrect. You take a moment to fully comprehend what he’s asking, or if he’s pulling your leg. Anger bottles up inside you and you know it’s not long before it overflows, “You… forced me to leave. You left me-”

“But you still left Manhattan… after Ultron.” He cuts you off. God, you hated when he did that.

“Because I would’ve died if I stayed, waiting for you.” You raise your voice a little now and Steve dips his head down, though he’s a little confused as to how you would’ve died? “But even if I stayed in Manhattan, I wouldn’t have been waiting for you, because you were done with me before we even went to Iowa.” The subconscious, more kinder part of you that’s getting overpowered by your anger is cursing you for being so… hurtful. You can see in Steve’s face that you’re hurting him… but that anger inside you is glad. Hurt him like he hurt you! “Because when she made you see things and tried to hurt you in the worst way possible, it had nothing to do with me.” You know he knows who you’re talking about. Wanda. Scarlet witch. If this was any other circumstance you would’ve referred to her as a much more horrible name. Steve grimaces at the memory of it all. Fighting Wanda, what she made him see… “You saw Peggy and forgot all about me.” Steve lifts his head at the quiver of your voice and his heart shatters at the glossiness of your eyes.

This wasn’t how this talk was supposed to go. Wanda told him the things to say and he went off track.

“Y/N-“

“No, you shut me out. You wouldn’t even look at me… Like it was my fault that she-“ You cut yourself off before you can say something you can’t come back from- if possible. A tear escapes you and you’re quick to wipe it away. No- he can’t see your weakness, “And when we flew back home, when we got to Iowa, you stopped me from getting off that jet.” You point at him, “You sent me back to New York and I left to stay alive, because I-“ You cut yourself off yet again, realising you had slipped up.

You blink at Steve, mouth opening and closing as you watch him relay your words, “Because what?” He asks, standing away from the dresser now to get closer to you.

“Nothing.” You whisper, eyes trained to the ground so he wouldn’t catch your bluff, “Because I was an avenger, public enemy-“

“No, you said you could’ve died.”

“Yeah, a lot of people wanted us to pay, Steve-“

“They wouldn’t have killed you.” He rolls his eyes, getting a little annoyed now at whatever it is you’re hiding from him, “You’re hiding something from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!” Steve raises his own voice now, “You are. Or else you’re admitting to leaving solely because you wanted to and no one was forcing you.” You look up at him, staring daggers. He knew how to get under your skin and get you to talk, you’ll give him that.

You stand from your spot on the bed, pointing mercilessly up at him, “When you sent me back, you put a fucking bounty on my head!” You heave, “HYDRA showed up at my shitty apartment and tortured me into where you were and where the scepter was.” You finally reveal and you hate how much of a weight it is lifted off your shoulders to finally tell someone. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything. I’m not as vengeful as some people.”

Steve let’s the insult fly over his head, more concerned over the fact that… if you didn’t tell them… what did they do to you?

Since the day it happened, you had kept your mouth shut and moved as far away as you could. You didn’t even talk to police. You didn’t even go to the hospital. You painfully stitched up the stab wound yourself and turned the burned skin of an H on your back into a window. Of course, that required you to burn yourself even more, but with a rag in your mouth and loud music to cover the screams, it was over with much faster than you’d thought.

You still have nightmares about it. Dreams and sometimes even visions of Rumlow. In the first few weeks that you’d bought the house, you were weary of the milkman. You thought it was some sort of trick, that one day Brock would show up in the outfit and kill you.

But the day never came. And you quickly realised they probably didn’t care about you that much anymore. You weren’t worth the hassle of killing and Captain America clearly didn’t care for you as much as they thought- so killing you wouldn’t matter to anyone except for yourself… and what were you to them?

“What did they do-“

“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, attempting to wipe the flow of tears that stream down your face.

Steve doesn’t know what else to say. He feels like… like a failure. He failed to protect you- not only as your boyfriend, but as your Captain. When he stopped you from getting off the jet, he ignored Tony’s advice to stick together. He put you in danger simply because he was too emotional to make a rational decision.

You could’ve died because of him.

And here he is, in your house. You grant him safety, food, water, hot water, a bed and a roof over his head after everything he’s done to you? And now he’s in your room, after you’ve quite literally slashed away for them all, and he’s making you remember all the horrible things that he caused in your life.

You swallow and then inhale quickly, before taking a seat on your side of the bed, refusing to even look in his direction- let alone at him, “I think… you should go back downstairs.”

Steve doesn’t immediately move. He knows he should fix it, he knows he should stay and admit his wrongs and do everything in his power to make things right again. But he also knows you clearly need space.

Though his heart tells him to stay and comfort you, his body knows it’s best to just do what you say and leave you alone.

He leaves your room, shutting the door behind him and sighing heavily.

He needs a moment to collect himself, replaying everything you had said and piecing together the pieces.

However, when his heightened senses pick up the faint sound of you sobbing behind the door, he can’t bare to listen to what he’s so evidently caused and walks away.

As he reaches the staircase, in the darkness he spots all three of his friends huddled on the last step, offering him timid smiles. Wanda in particular looks a little more empathetic.

Steve mostly ignores them as he walks down the stairs and tells them goodnight as he hurries off into his seperate sleeping area in the study room on the pullout couch.

He really hated himself right about now.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

series masterlist here, next chapter

EOWWWWWW i am so excited for this.

idk if u can tell i’m like such a sucker for steve angst

i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this series!!! 🫶

[apas-95]

[Paraphrased from: here, with better format here]

So! Enes Kanter. This Guy.

Makes ugly shoes. You’ve probably seen them. Until now, I, like I assume a lot of you, thought he was just some sellout who (cynically or not) figured it was pretty profitable to sell asinine regime change merch. Turns out, it actually goes a bit deeper. A lot deeper, in fact, and it has quite a bit to do with this incident a while back:

This is a pretty recognisable hand sign for a Turkish fascist paramilitary org. Kanter made the claim that he was doing... the Grinch sign(?), but it’s a very lousy excuse, as weak as ‘no, I wasn’t doing a Nazi salute, they just caught me... pointing at a bird’.

They Grey Wolves are a far-right terrorist organisation, who have no lack of ties with the west’s push on Xinjiang, but hey, maybe it really was just... the Grinch sign... and an honest mistake. So, why am I mentioning it? Well, as it turns out, Kanter does have ties to the Grey Wolves - through Turkish cleric Fethullah Gülen.

Gülen is perhaps best known in the US for his charter schools. Education is a big part of the Gülen Movement (also known as Hizmet, and referred to as FETO [Fethullahist Terrorist Organization] by the Turkish government), which runs schools throughout the world. Kanter himself attended one of these schools from a young age, where he first got involved with the Gülen movement, and became one of its most famous followers in the US.

This isn’t an unusual story, and certainly not one unique to Kanter. The schools have been accused on many occasions of grooming and recruiting the ‘best and brightest’ students to the movement - including, for instance, a teenage basketball prodigy. In turn, the Gülen Movement does everything they can to place these exceptional individuals they’ve recruited through their schools into critical bureaucracies, like the military, police and intelligence services. 

The movement itself, if it weren’t obvious enough from the ‘secretly installing its members at the levers of political power’ thing, is very shady. It’s structured in a very... recognisable way. The movement is made up of cells, each of which lead by a commander, who is the only one who has knowledge of, or communication with, other cells. At the highest level, these leaders communicate with codenames, all organised around a central circle and leader. In short, it’s textbook covert cell structure, as used by - just an example - the CIA.

The movement, with its hands on all the important parts of state power in Turkey, was able to facilitate a certain right wing politician’s rise to power, that being Erdoğan. Through a somewhat complicated bout of parapolitics, involving assasinations and a mass killing, Erdoğan and the Gülen movement were able to push out political rivals and consolidate power in Turkey. After a few too many scandals, Erdoğan apparently lost the movement’s favour, and they orchestrated a full-on attempted coup in 2016.

So, what does any of this have to do with Kanter selling terrible shoes (and meeting with US presidents to push the Xinjiang narrative)? Well, the Gülen Movement isn’t exactly unrelated to that - with Gülen saying in 1997: “Turkey […] today encompasses 60 million. Together with the Turks in Central Asia it is 120-130 million. If it manages to break down the Chinese wall and to unite with the Turks there, it will be 300 million”, and Gülen himself being instrumental in lobbying the US government to recognise the ‘East Turkestan Government in Exile’ in 2003.

Saying “their activities [...] are based on a report entitled “the Xinjiang Project” drafted by Graham Fuller” is, in fact, understating things. Fuller, a RAND corporation fellow, former CIA Kabul Station Chief, and Vice Chairman of the National Security Council, was actually instrumental in getting Gülen into the US, lobbying immigration authorities into ignoring the billions of dollars he was moving clandestinely around the globe, funding who-knows-what. In fact, the US State Department itself asserted the Gülen Movement was funded by the CIA.

The fact that the two people who helped him gain residence in the US - in Pennsylvania - were Fuller, ex-CIA; and George Fidas, the head of the CIA’s university outreach; probably doesn’t help things. It’s likely Fuller was Gülen‘s handler, and a warrant for his arrest was put out by the Turkish government in the aftermath of the 2016 coup attempt.

So, Gülen and Fuller both have a keen interest in Xinjiang. The president of the Uyghur American Association, Kuzzat Altay, actually is an open follower of the Gülen Movement (and just so happens to live in Virginia). The UAA was actually founded in the same year that Fuller started The Xinjiang Project for RAND, which, as mentioned before, was used to lobby the US government into recognising the ‘East Turkestan Government in Exile’.

Kuzzat Altay, the president of the Uyghur American Association, and follower of the Gülen Movement, is also the CEO of an education company - recalling that the reason Gülen‘s entry into the US was opposed was his ability to move money through his shady networks of, you guessed it, mostly schools. He’s the nephew of the former World Uyghur Congress president (at one point one of the top 5 richest people in China, and a convicted spy), but the really interesting part is his brother, Faruk Altay, who you might already have heard of!

He runs Altay Defense, where US Special Forces provide paramilitary training to key members of Uyghur separatist groups, all in lovely Virginia, USA. I don’t think I even have to say it, but it’s incredibly reminiscent of any number of US regime change operations, like Operation Gladio.

It is funny to note how most US liberals probably wouldn’t like openly associating with these plainly far-right groups in other circumstances... but, since they’re pushing against China, it’s all swept aside.

Anyway, circling back to Kanter, who has open and clear ties with this whole warren of intelligence agency fronts, far-right terrorist groups, and regime change ops, I think it’s clear that his support for ‘#freeuyghur’ and merchandising of it is a lot more suspect than just opportunism. Maybe the Grey Wolves symbol wasn’t so disconnected from it after all.

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

Full article: "FANTASTIC BEASTS – Hollywood Authentic"

On Set "FANTASTIC BEASTS"

April 5, 2022

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore, which is set decades prior to the Harry Potter series, feels strangely prescient: Newt Scamander must help Professor Albus Dumbledore and a band of outsiders to stop the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald from seizing control of the wizarding world. As Dumbledore says to Newt, ‘The world as we know it is coming undone. Grindelwald is pulling it apart with hate.’

But let’s rewind. Last October, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, the first of eight Potter films, was re-released after 20 years. In that film Richard Harris played Albus Dumbledore (after two outings as the wizard, he was replaced following his death by Michael Gambon), and today the role of inhabiting the character’s back story in the Fantastic Beasts films belongs to a bearded Jude Law. In the new film, Law is reunited with Eddie Redmayne as “magizoologist” Newt Scamander, an experience that he says ‘is like spending time with an old friend… He’s both great fun and very entertaining to be with, interested and interesting. And he’s also someone that takes it to another level when it comes to prep.’ Director David Yates, who directed four of the Potter films and all three Fantastic Beasts movies, agrees: ‘Eddie works harder than any actor I know. He is an absolute workaholic and a perfectionist. I think the thing I love about him most is he’s transformative.’

The first Potter book was published in 1997, with a print run of just 500, after author JK Rowling was famously rejected by 12 publishers. Warner Bros bought the rights for a reported $1 million, and the first Potter film was shot at Leavesden in Hertfordshire, in a former aircraft engine factory that had previously provided the setting for GoldenEye and The Dark Knight.

Warner Bros Studios at Leavesden quickly became the exclusive home to the franchise and then, in 2016, to its extension, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. One of the Potter series’ biggest achievements is the way in which it helped to cement the UK’s status in the special effects industry. On the first Potter film, complicated visual effects were done on the west coast of America, but by the second, they were assigned to the UK. As Tanya Seghatchian, who executive produced several Potter films, has pointed out, ‘Now we’re recognised as the leading provider for visual effects in the world. Every facility is fully booked and that wasn’t the case before Harry Potter.’

In 2009, when I was invited on the set of the sixth Potter film, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, it was eight years since the release of the first movie in the franchise, and Leavesden studios had already morphed from what had been essentially some sheds without sound stages into something altogether slicker. I was struck by the scale of the vast metal hanger at its core, but also by its capacity for intimacy. Cast and crew had pushbikes to pedal from one location to the next, Hogwarts’ Great Hall was built to scale and the Weasleys’ small, cold and dark living room had a strong smell of washing powder which was at odds with its dankness. Daniel Radcliffe, an engaging Harry Potter on screen and a thoughtful young man off it, explained how he learned to dive for an underwater scene in The Goblet of Fire in Europe’s largest film-making tank, which was set up in a corner of the studio. 

Fast forward to the pandemic and it is Eddie Redmayne whose swimming skills are called into action. Because of Covid-19 restrictions, a sequence in Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore in which Newt enters summer waters had to be shifted to night shoots in Leavesden in December. Not the warmest of prospects, but achievable at the Warner Bros Hertfordshire studios, which in the decade since my visit have grown even further into an astonishing state-of-the-art operation.

Director David Yates told me that he likes ‘the infrastructure of making a blockbuster; it’s like having a big train set’. A huge train set: Christian Mänz, the Oscar-nominated VFX supervisor on Harry Potter and then Fantastic Beasts, has a team of 1,500 people working on the creation of visual effects. He also collaborates closely with Stuart Craig, production designer on all eight Potter films, and whose job it is to bring the wizarding world to life. Craig has described asking JK Rowling about the geography of Hogwarts: ‘She immediately took out a pen and paper, and made the most extraordinarily complete map on a sheet of A4. I was still referring to that map on the eighth film.’ 

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore was written by Rowling and Steve Kloves, who wrote all the Potter screenplays. If production designer Craig creates the universe, then VFX supervisor Mänz augments that reality. The Fantastic Beasts films are set in the historical past, with this latest taking place in the ’30s, in the build-up to World War II, and featuring global locations that have been specially created at Leavesden. For example, to prepare a scene set in Paris, 90 digitally-scanned locations helped recreate a version of the French capital so that the team could work out what could be physically built and what then had to be digitally recreated. 

Mads Mikkelsen, who plays Grindelwald, explains the benefit of such technical expertise: ‘We didn’t have to pretend. It’s a minimum of green screen work; everything is there.’ Law, too, is enthusiastic: ‘It’s a total dream for actors because you just step on [set] and you don’t have to do an awful lot of imagining. It’s all there with trams and cars and shop fronts or vistas and views, whatever. And we jumped through various cities around the world at various times. Being on something this scale is very rewarding.’

Amy Raphael is a journalist, critic and novelist. She has written for The Face, NME and British Esquire; her books include the biographies of Mike Leigh and Danny Boyle.

📸 Greg Williams Photography

* Note: more photos in the article.

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.