#oh i forgot to mention we lived in england for five years. we did that too. i promise you. we Know its bad

[skyburger]

forced my mother who i love dearly to watch phantom blood with me (not even a full episode i just wanted to show her the extent of the bad accents in the english dub) and she agrees with me that speedwagon's dub voice is probably the worst offender for a main character. in fact she said, quote, "he's worse than dick van dyke in mary poppins" so. you know its bad

[grealishy]

LOVER - Jack Grealish

summary - while visiting your best friend from high school, you run into and old friend, but things aren’t the same between you two.

pairing - jack grealish x fem!reader

warnings - slight uses of profanity, mentions of alcohol cunsumption

song inspo - lover, taylor swift

word count - 2k

this is my first fic and i hope you enjoy it!

I also have to make this multiple parts, so sorry about that!

can we always be this close, forever and ever?

after four long hours from London, you had finally arrived in Manchester. You stepped off the train and headed to the arrival area to meet your friend Maddie.

You and Maddie had been best friends since primary school, but ever since you moved to London three years ago, and Maddie living in Manchester since University, you had barley seen her, although you try to make time to see each other at least once a year, however every year she had come to London. This was your first year visiting her in Manchester, and you were eager to finally see Maddie.

After walking around the pick up area for a good 10 minutes, you finally see her car. Excitement fills your body and you can't help but rush over to her with an embarrassingly huge smile. As Maddie sees you run over she gets out of her car and spreads her arms out wide.

You two meet in a hug, both not wanting to let go. It had been so long since the two of you had been together.

"MADDIE!"

"Y/N!"

"It's been forever! How are you!"

"I'm good, how are you? How was the train ride? Good?"

"Yeah, it was really good. Although the breakfast sandwich I ordered really got me through it" You said with a chuckle.

Maddie helped you with your bags and brought them to the trunk of her car. Once you both got settled in the front seat, Maddie turned the radio on and she started driving to her place.

Once you pulled into the driveway to Maddie's house, you brought your things inside, being met with barks of her little toy poodle, jasper, and the smell of apple cinnamon from a candle that was burning. It was a warm type of feel, like a warm hug.

There was a Manchester City v Liverpool game on the tv which was fitting since Maddie was a HUGE Manchester City fan. You were a Chelsea fan since living in London, but all in all, you didn't keep up with football as much as you used to when you were still in school, however when you were an avid football watcher, Manchester City was naturally your team.

"OH! Y/N! I forgot to mention, I got us tickets for a Man City v Tottenham match on Friday! Should be a good game!"

"Oh my God! Thanks Mads! I'm sure it will be"

The two of you ordered Chinese food and sat down, watching the game carefully, getting frustrated with the ref, and cheering when possession would change back to City. Just as the game was coming to an end, your food had arrived.

"ANDDDDD...... END, 2-1 CITY!! LETS GOOO!" Maddie screamed, giving you a high five.

It was like you and her were never separated.

-

You and Maddie spent the whole week going shopping, eating out, and watching movies.

"Y/n, did you bring your City jersey? Because if not we NEED to get you one to wear to the game. And, I mean, I could lend you one of mine, but why not use this as an accuse to get another. In fact, I'll just buy you one!"

You both make your way to the Manchester City fan store and you are met with an overwhelming amount of light blue everything. Surrounded by numbers and standard blank jerseys, you look around picking out one you would wear for the game.

"How about Haaland? He's the best on the team I'd argue. Or, oh my God, you need a Grealish jersey!"

Jack Grealish. Star football player. Midfielder for Manchester City and England's national team. Who didn't know who Jack Grealish was.

The funny thing was that he was an old classmate of Maddie and Y/n, from primary school all the way to high school.

"Very funny Mads."

"No, I'm being serious. It's not every day that your best friend, after me of course, from school becomes a professional footballer who is loved across the nation and plays for one of the best teams in England! You need his Jersey Y/n, you two used to be so close!"

You fool your eyes. It's true, the two of you were close, but you live very different lives now and it's not like you are still friends with him.

"I'll just get the Haaland jersey Mads."

"If you say so."

-

"NEXT!"

You and Maddie step up to check into the match, excitement flooding your body. The energy at matches were always so electric.

As you were walking towards your seats, you realize that you keep walking, getting really close to the pitch.

"here." Maddie says. You are one row from the pitch, sitting on the end of the second row.

"Maddie, what the fuck."

"What?" she says cheekily.

"These seats are insane, I mean really fucking insane"

"Only the best for the best"

You hug her and take a seat.

Before you know it kick off is happening and the game starts. The stadium is rumbling from cheers of mainly Man City fans, and the energy is something that is like a drug. You catch a sort of high from the pure adrenaline.

The game stops for half-time and you are excited to see the players walk by as your seats are right near the tunnel to the locker rooms.

As the players walk by you are met with a familiar face.

It is none other than Mr. Jack Grealish. You make eye contact with him as he walks by. You don't think anything of it, until he does a double take and smiles widely. But that was just a friendly smile, right?

-

Was that? Can't be... Unless.. No, she lives in London... But it looked just like her...

"GREALISH! ARE YOU LISTENING BOY?! WE ARE DOWN ONE-NIL, FOCUS UP DAMMIT" Pep yells.

Pep finishes giving his speech, which was honestly more like screaming at the squad until they feel threatened enough to make a difference in their game, and Jack is eager to get back on the pitch, especially seeing a girl that looked a little too similar too his childhood best friend.

The boys run back onto the pitch, and Jack makes a point to look closely at the girl. Although she was preoccupied at admiring Tottenham's Son who was already on the field, Jack could tell that the girl was definitely his old friend, however he noticed that she had a sparkle to her, something he had never noticed before, or something she gained while in London. Whatever it was about her, Jack could tell that she was still the same. Same best friend, same hair, same style, and even the same winter coat. It was intriguing.

-

The final whistle blew, indicating the match was over. Cheer erupted in Etihad Stadium. Both you and Maddie snuggling together as you clapped and cheered.

Just as the two of you were about to leave you heard you name being called.

"Y/n! Y/l/n!"

You looked around to see Jack Grealish coming over to you. The surrounding fans tried getting the Midfielders attention, but he was only concerned with you.

"Hey, Y/n! It's Jack!"

You smiled at his recognition of you.

"I know. How are you Mr. Grealish? Great game today!"

He smile warmly at your slight teasing tone. You felt like you were talking to a close friend of yours, not a Manchester City player., even though technically, it was a friend.

"How about you meet me at The Pen and Pencil after for a drink, you too Maddie."

You agreed and said your goodbyes as he ran back to his team.

"Well would you look at that. Looks to me that double trouble is back"

"Shove off Maddie" You chuckled.

-

As you pulled up to the pub your stomach starts to turn. Yes, Jack was an old friend, yes, you two were extremely close, but he also looked more mature and handsome than he ever had before and you found yourself a little attracted to him. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in a while, or maybe it was because he was in his football kit that fit him ever so perfectly. Regardless of attraction, you were in Manchester to have a good time with your best friend and to let loose.

"Ay, you made it" Jack said as he noticed you walking through the door. He comes over to give you and Maddie little hugs.

"Can I get you a drink, it's on me of course!

"I'll take a Cider"

The three of you catch up, sort of getting to know each other all over again. It was a natural conversation, no awkwardness or silence. It was truly like high school days again.

within the next hour, Maddie was off with some guy flirting, leaving you and Jack by the bar, still talking.

"So, how's life in London. I feel like that should have been the first this I asked, but y'know, I got sidetracked with other topic of conversation."

"No, it's alright. And, I love it. I've been there for about three years now. Don't get me wrong, I really miss Birmingham, but there is just something about London that I am so drawn to, and I have never looked back since moving. I just feel at home there, y'know?"

"Yeah I feel the same way here in Manchester"

-

It was nearing 2 in the morning and you were getting tired, especially since you and Maddie had stayed up late the night before.

"I think I'm gonna find Maddie, I'm getting pretty tired."

"Alright then, I see you on your way out?"

You nodded and headed to find Maddie.

After searching for a solid 15 minutes you couldn't find her. It was a relatively small pub, but trying to find someone in a dark crowded pub was not the easiest. You soon came to the conclusion that Maddie wasn't here. You open your phone to see a text from her.

Maddie: Hey girl! So I met this cute guy and we are going out to this other pub. I was trying to give you the car keys so you could drive since I know you were only having one drink, but I couldn't find you. Anyways, I'll pay you back for a cab since I know you'll need one. The garage code is 1234. Sorry, luv u

crap.

"Find her?"

"She actually left.."

"Oh damn. You need a ride? I was thinking of leaving anyways, I could just drive you."

"You sure? I can always get a cab or an uber."

"No need to waste money, I can drive you, I only had one drink so I'll be fine."

Jack closed his tab and you both left the pub, getting into his car which was parked out front.

-

You were fighting the urge to fall asleep in the car, but your tiredness took over, and before you knew it you were at Maddies place, and Jack was waking you up.

"Hey, Y/n. We're here." He says as he nudges you awake.

"Oh, God, sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep"

You get out of the car and straighten out your clothes before shutting the car door.

"Thanks Jack. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime. Before I leave though, how long are you staying in Manchester?"

"Um, I think a week more? Why"

"Here, give me your number, I want to hang out with you again before you go back to London."

You exchange numbers and Jack get back in his car to leave. He rolls the window down and gives you a wink before driving off.

-

You had just gotten changed and grabbed a granola bar and were just about to turn your light off to go to bed when your phone dings.

(0161)111-1111: Hey, it's Jack. You busy tomorrow afternoon? Was thinking we could go to this one local restaurant that is the BEST. What do you think?

PART 2 (coming soon)...

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams – was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

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

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

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Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

[radiorenjun]

I just rewatched crazy rich asians and a sudden scenario popped up in my head lol. Can you do a nct dream reaction to you coming from an insanely rich fam but you did not tell them after years of being together (like they thought you were poor) I really like your fics uwuu💗luv youuu🥺

God now this is making me want to watch Crazy Rich Asians. Anyways.

Mark Lee

You both have been dating since your first year in college. The day you told him you were the daughter of one of the most successful people in the country, his jaw dropped. I mean, considering how you live in a small apartment back when you two were in your early years of dating.

He remembers the day your mother decided to visit the two of you to meet Mark for the first time. Your mother was a very famous and inspiring talk show host and your father was the owner of a very well known hospital. You could barely hold back your laughter when you saw him practically try to scoop his jaw back up when he watched your mother walk out of a Tesla X car.

"You're (Y/M/N)'s daughter? One of the richest people in the industry?!" Mark exclaimed exasperatedly a few minutes after your mother left. Your mother had brought over fancy seafood with some rare caviar and 24k gold pieces sprinkled on top for dinner. 'I wanted to make a good first impression' she said with a casual shrug as you all sat at your dining table.

"Uh... I wouldn't consider myself rich, persay" you laughed. "Oh my god, you're the daughter of one of the most famous talk shows in the industry." Mark dramatically collapsed on the couch, his hand came up to cup his mouth dramatically as if he just found out you were secretly an alien disguised as Michael Jackson.

"Oh come on, it's not that of a big deal, Mark." you whined, sitting beside him and shaking his arm. "Chenle is probably richer than me," you added as you placed a peck on his cheek as he sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Can I ask you something, though?" he muttered, leaning his head against yours as you leaned against his shoulder. You hummed in response, moving your hand to play with his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a small voice, a pout evident on his lips.

You pondered for a moment before shrugging, "I don't know, I wanted to tell you at first when we started dating but then I forgot bout it. I rarely call my parents since they're so busy," you smiled sheepishly at him.

"That explains the Rolex watch you gave me for Christmas," he uttered. "Okay, for the record, those were from my own savings!" you shot back defensively with a laugh, smacking his arm gently. "Oh so now you're bragging bout being rich," he teased.

Huang Renjun

You were both planned on going to a an art gallery date Renjun found on the internet for your two year anniversary. What you didn't know was that the gallery he was talking bout was actually one of your grandfather's art gallery. It was safe to say that the poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the owner of the gallery he saw online giving you a big hug.

You were surprised his jaw was still intact with his face when you told him that the owner was your grandfather. He then remembered the time when you told him your grandfather really like to paint alot, hence your magnificent talent that landed you in a scholarship with one of the biggest art colleges in the country.

“So, your grandfather owns like, what, ten galleries all over the country?” Renjun gaped as you walked side by side down the halls filled with paintings after you introduced him to your grandfather. You shrugged sheepishly, staring up at one of the paintings, swinging your intertwined hands as you walked.”Does this mean you’re like rich? Crazy rich?” Renjun added.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.” You chuckled, watching Renjun give you a blank stare. “I’m not! I’m just in shock that my girlfriend’s family are aristocrats and could end my life in a heartbeat!” he exclaimed, causing you to let out a soft laugh.

“I’m not necessarily rich like that. But I will inherit all this when my grandfather retires.” You shrugged. “Damn, I never thought I’d be dating a billionaire. This seems like an unexpected climax of a really weird movie” he muttered, running his thumb over your knuckles as you giggled.

“We’re not billionaires, you drama queen. Why does it matter to you anyways if my family’s kinda wealthy?” you raised your brow with a teasing grin, making your boyfriend let out a scoff. “It makes me seem like a peasant standing next to you, your highness,” he rolled his eyes in a sardonic tone. You laughed, smacking him lightly on his arm as you gave him a soft peck on his cheek.

“At least you’ll be my peasant.”

“That sounds like you bought me off of an auction for slavery. I didn’t know you were this kinky, Y/N.”

“Don’t make me dump you on our second anniversary in front of my grandfather, Huang.”

Lee Jeno

He really didn’t see this coming. One year and seven months ago, you seem like the average college student joining sororities to not spend as much money, like he did. You seemed like the average broke college student, spending your days eating cheap ramen from the supermarket, making chocolate truffles with a coffee maker and trying out those Buzzfeed videos where they make three full course meals using house hold items.

Hell, even your friends didn’t know bout this. Well, maybe they did. But nothing would prepare Lee Jeno the absolute shock he was bout to feel when he found out that you and your older sibling owned a really fancy five star hotel that seems only celebrities went to. Hell, you even had your own personal presidential suite and an infinity pool!

“How did you even get money to pay for all this?” Jeno gaped as he entered the room, putting his bag on the chair beside the door that looks as if it costed more than his own life. It probably did, though.”Uh...” you bit your lip as you heard a loud booming voice yell out your name.

“Baby sis!”

Jeno’s eyes were wide and filled with surprise as he saw someone who could’ve been mistaken as the president’s child come up and give you a big hug and a pinch on the cheeks. “Is this the Jeno you’ve been talking bout to mom and dad? Quite the charmer, I’d say,” your sibling grinned, as Jeno stretched his hand out and introduced himself, masking his confusion with a light smile.

Jeno politely asked who this person who had their arm slung over your shoulder and pinching your cheeks red, causing your sibling to laugh. “You really went all out with the broke college act to the point you just don’t mention your own family anymore, huh?” they laughed. Jeno was beyond astonished to find out that your parents were extremely loaded that they bought a really expensive hotel for vacation purposes just for you and your relatives to use.

Turns out you had a whole broke college student act to discover a new lifestyle out of the rich and easy one. Plus, you really liked interacting with people, hence why you joined a sorority. Jeno would eventually get over it after you explained everything, still baffled that his girlfriend had the money to pay child support for his great great grandchildren.

“Am I in heaven?” Jeno jokes as he ran his hand over his wet hair, watching you get into the tub with him, holding a fancy cup filled with wine. “Don’t get used to it, Lee. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Tomorrow it’ll be back to making poached salmon in a coffee maker.” You laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you snuggled closer to his chest.

“Good to know, nothing has changed. Despite having a girlfriend that could cover my future descendants expenses.”

“You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“You can’t blame a man for overthinking. Oh god, the day I’ll be meeting your parents would probably be equivalent to meeting the King and Queen of England.”

Lee Donghyuck

Precious boy would be shocked but not that shocked. You get me?

He’s gonna act all dramatic at first, putting a hand on his chest how you just told him this big thing bout yourself after a year of dating. He found out through a really unexpected meetup with your parents, jaw gaping once he found out that both of your parents are rich ceo’s of really big insurance companies. 

Apparently, your parents decided to pick you up for a small vacation to Paris. Being the extras that they are, they made an extravagant dramatic entrance in your multimillion limo, offering Hyuck a ride home in the process. Lowkey the whole car ride was him just being so speechless that you, yourself was surprised to see your usually goofy and loud boyfriend so silent and speechless.

Low key he felt kinda insecure now that he’s met your parents. What if they don’t like him because they thought he wasn’t good enough to be a part of their family? Or rich enough to even be your boyfriend. Though the light conversation your mother had sparked up eased him, feeling relieved that at least your mom liked him, despite your dad being to busy with work to even spare him a glance instead of looking up from his laptop.

The next time you meet up was on a cafe date three days afterward. “I can’t believe I just met your richass parents.” was the first thing he said to you that day. You cackled at his horrified expression as he stares at you as if he had committed arson, chewing his muffin softly as he spoke.

“Relax you big baby, they like you already. They thought you were nice and polite, and quiet.” that last part sounds so wrong you instantly gulped down your milkshake. “If only they knew how much sorcery you have to make me still date you despite how you act like a worm on a heatstroke.” you shuddered.

He let out a sarcastic laugh in response, shoving what’s left in his pistachio muffin into your mouth to shut you up. You giggled, humming at the taste as your boyfriend chuckled.There was a brief moment of silence as you chewed the rest of his muffin before Donghyuck spoke up.

“I never thought my life would come to the day where I have a girlfriend who has a possible chance of being my Sugar Mommy.”

“LEE DONGHYUCK!”

Na Jaemin

He wouldn't be that surprised, really. Finding out that you’re the daughter of a famous k-drama director was quite unexpected considering he was the casted as the main character of this k-drama meaning he had to work harder to make your dad like him. He was beyond astonished to find you visiting the studio with your mother to celebrate your parent’s anniversary in a really expensive Korean Barbeque restaurant that seems even Lee Sooman couldn’t afford to get in.

After finding out Jaemin was THE Na Jaemin you were dating, your parents invited him to join you and your family for dinner. He was a nervous wreck in front of your parents. Not only they were successful and could get him kicked out of the role in a heartbeat if he didn’t make a good first impression, they were rich too. If he plans to marry you, he’s gonna have to be praying to God that this dinner goes smoothly.

Lowkey the thought of you being rich didn’t faze him that much but he was worried your parents might not approve of him considering he wasn’t as successful as they were. Of course, with the constant habit of bringing him up during family dinners that you had developed, they were quite happy to see such a sweet caring boy had the possibility of being their son-in-law.

Believe me, it was their words, not mine.

“MOM! You can’t say things like that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands as he giggled, his hold on your other hand tightening under the table. “What? You two are already in a committed relationship for fourteen months already, and you’re still in that honeymoon phase, unlike your father here who acts as if I was the bane of his existence.” your mother jokes.

“That’s because you are.” you father teased. “Jaemin is a nice boy, having him as a son in law would be great addition to the family.” he added as your face flushed red even more when you felt Jaemin squeeze your hand. Jaemin had a wide smile displayed on his face, his own cheeks flushed red at your parent’s words.

“Maybe one day,” he smiled to himself as he stared at your whole embarrassed being sitting in front of your millionaire parents.

Zhong Chenle

I need more Chenle gifs. Anyways

Most definitely will plan to buy the whole SM Entertainment with you to prevent mistreatment for his foreign hyungs and dongsaengs. Honestly it’s just gonna be so funny for him to find out that you were from a wealthy family as well. No wonder you could afford the latest Dior bag the moment it got released, and bought him the limited edition of the latest Kingdom Hearts game.

At some point of his life, he thought you were secretly stealing money from the bank or something. He found out when he visited your hometown for the first time for a Summer Tour. He didn’t think he’d be staying at a private mansion-like villa. Of course, you invited the other Dream members to stay over so their manager wouldn’t have to struggle with finding a super expensive hotel with high level security.

From then on, every special event is like a gift-giving competition to see either who bought the most items or the most expensive one to make the other feel guilty.

“No. You didn’t.” you gasped, glaring at your boyfriend who just grinned mischievously, despite the fact that he had bought so much stuff that he doesn’t even remember which gift that was. “I did,” he grinned proudly as he watched you pull out those aesthetic acrylic photos with a spotify link on the top from tiktok. “Dammit, you beat me to it.” you pouted, pulling a shopping bag from your side of gifts to pull out an acrylic stand of the two of you on your first date with your shared playlist link on spotify on it.

“That’s so sweet, y/n. I love it, even thought you practically lost this one.” he grinned cheekily. “Lost?” you raised your brows, questioningly. "Honestly, this feels more of a competition than an endearing moment to remember," you mused.

"Not my fault you spoiled me, it's only fair if I spoil you back." Chenle laughed. "What kind of girlfriend I would be if I didn't spoil my hard working boyfriend?" you grinned, letting out a small giggle afterwards as you pulled out another shopping bag from your side to give to your loving boyfriend.

"A rich one," Haechan muttered as he entered the room.

Park Jisung

The day he found out you were loaded was the day he finally got to sleepover at your house when he got a clear schedule. In your 8 months of dating, you two never got to hang out in your house as you both were too busy with your own things to even have a decent date without instant ramen and 6 other males involved.

He expected you to live in a normal minimalistic house. You've sent him hilarious pictures of yourself posing dramatically in your living room with the caption, 'paint me like one of your French girls' at the bottom. He knew you had some kind of minimalistic house with the beige couch and potted plants in the background.

But the picture on his phone was nothing compared to the reality of what your house actually looked like. He swore the entrance to your house was almost four times larger than his own size, and that's saying something. Poor boy was practically trying to scoop his jaw back up when he saw the gigantic chandelier hovering over the two of you in the living room.

"How are you not scared of being crushed by glorious diamonds every day?" was what he said when you dragged him to your room with his eyes lingering on the gigantic chandelier and your fingers wrapped around his wrist. You laughed, shrugging as you pulled him through the long hallway filled with gigantic frames of you and your family.

When he entered you bedroom, he practically dropped his dufflebag to the floor. "I brought my pillow for nothing then," Jisung gaped as he saw your king-sized bed that could fit three or possibly four people. "Are you sure you're not some aristocrat? You're basically living off of the We Boom era," Jisung chuckled incredulously as he watch you collapse on your bed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Idol At Thirteen. You're way more richer than I am," you giggled as Jisung walked over and slumped on the bed beside you, humming at the fluffiness of your freshly washed sheets. "That's clearly inaccurate, y/n. I feel offended you never told me that you're basically a billionaire," Jisung pouted jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, "shut up, Park. I live off of instant noodles and homemade omelettes, I'm no different from you." you booped Jisung's nose, causing him to scrunch up his face in an adorable manner. He looked up to see the paintings of baby angels on your ceiling, it was like some kind of museum.

"I bet you secretly have 60 credit cards in your wallet." he mumbled to himself, eyes still staring at you in disbelief as you gave him an incredulous expression. "Jisung. I'm not that rich, really." you deadpanned, "you saved me from going broke by refusing my offer to pay on dates." you joked.

Jisung laughed, "watch what you're saying, y/n. I don't think I'm ever paying for our dates ever again after this sleepover," he pointed a finger at you. You rolled your eyes, pushing his finger away from your face as you continued to bask in each others presence.

"Does this mean you're finally gonna let me pay though? I'm ordering pizza."

"Not happening, L/N."

A/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I PROCRASTINATE ALOT IM SORRY THIS WAS SO BAD I-

[gambitimagines]

J’tadore Vous Part 3

Sorry this isn’t as soon as I/you would’ve liked. Insomnia weeks again! Also, I figure everyone understands I’m human and need breaks to recharge, have other responsibilities and can’t write fics all day, as fun as that would be. Thanks!

The legend is my own imagining based off Remy’s less-than-flattering nickname for the purpose of the story.

Warnings: Jack the Ripper references, but nothing graphic. Mentions of women being accosted and other stuff, but nothing too horrid. If men locking car doors triggers you, skip where the asterisks are.

-------

You we’re up late researching Remy, but not so late you couldn’t get up the next morning. You headed to the museum to look into a lead. The legend of Le Diablo Blanc-the white devil. (Not to be confused with Daredevil.) 

Legend had it that a mysterious figure showed up around New Orleans around the 1900s, the same time as a man was doing some horrific “Jack-the-Ripper” inspired killings, but a bit less dark. Young women were accosted, preyed upon and several were killed, or wounded if they managed to somehow get away. Then, one day, mentions of a savior started spreading like wildfire through the town. He would pull away damsels in distress, but they never saw his face. He wore a black mask to cover his features, but all you could see were glowing red eyes and white skin, so the papers branded him Le Diablo Blanc. Stories went around of him throwing playing cards that exploded at the murderer, but he didn’t catch him for about a year. Until 1915. The killer was dropped off at the local police station tied up with some rope, looking worse for wear, and the queen of hearts card stuffed into a large gash in his arm.

After that, there were a few stories in surrounding southern states about the hero rescuing people, but they completely stopped in 1918. The hero had hung up his mask for a quieter life. 

You weren’t positive that he and Remy were one in the same, but it was worth looking into. Then there was the picture. You planned to take it to your friend at Kensworth’s Copies to be blown up for a better look. 

At the museum, you looked through the historical books and files for anything on Le Diablo Blanc or Remy LeBeau. Despite being a museum of _Natural_ History, the place had many books, files, CD’s, and other media on general history about the nation and the world. You also planned on going to the library, because they might have something there. Newspaper articles or something. You didn’t know how much fame Remy had garnered over the years, if any, but billionaires never seemed to stay out of the limelight. 

“You’re here? On a weekend?” Jenny entered the office looking exhausted. Her hair was a mess and she looked frazzled. What the actual frigging heck?

“Personal project,” You murmured, barely looking up from the many open books in front of you, “If I’m in the way, I can step out for a bit, but this is important.”

“No, no.” Jenny waved her hands, “I’m just a corporate slave. There’s a meeting with the higher ups at freaking nine-am and I was instructed to come, take some notes and be amicable to that snake, Misses Winters.” 

Mrs. Winters was a 70-something year old woman who was the head of the museum. You crossed her, you were fired. She was known as cold-hearted and ruthless. Not a warm person.

“How did yesterday go with the mutie?”

“I told you not to use that word around me. It went fine.” You looked up a moment. Jenny really did look like garbage today. “Why do you look so...out of sorts?”

“Didn’t sleep good. Sister and her five-month old twins needed a place to stay at two this morning. She got into another argument with her husband.” Jenny drank her coffee, “I’m gonna go freshen up. Have fun on your _day off_. See you _Monday_.” She was venomous, but you couldn’t blame her. Everyone needed their sleep.

In moments, you forgot her. Somewhere between ancient Mesopotamia and the California gold rush, you found more stories of a dashing red-eyed savior sprinkled throughout history. You went back further in history, jumping around books. 

1842-Colombu’s travels include a snippet about a red-eyed man saving one of his ships from thieves before leaving port by somehow blowing up several barrels.

1924-Remy’s picture is clearly snapped in a crowd at the opening of one of the first Ford Automotive companies.

1912-The Queen of England is saved by a man only known as LeBeau. No other description is given.

1202 A.D- The Mayans have a symbol carved into a wall of a hand seemingly on fire. One of their villages had a rockslide the week before, but the casualties hadn’t been that bad.   

1995-Remy Picard gets his picture in the New York Chronicle for making 500 billion and donating some of his money to a new children’s hospital. 

You sit back in your chair a moment. Taking it all in. Was it a trick? Coincidence? You needed to know more. You got your bag and headed to the library.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

You went through the history section at the New York City library, getting out book after book again. It took over two hours, but you’d made out a hypothesis.

Remy was possibly born around the time Egypt reigned, if not earlier. He had to survive because of his mutantcy, you knew that much. He’d obviously amassed billions, keeping his profile low key over the recent years, for the most part. Hide in plain sight and you wouldn’t get caught. As far as the public knew, he was a rich mutant, nothing more. He’d hung up his hero status for reasons unknown, but he wasn’t as “young” as the history book claimed.

The figment, the savior, the man with the seductive, beautiful red eyes wasn’t a myth shrouded in stories and half-truths. He was real. And he wasn’t hundreds of years old. He was _thousands_ of years old!

The book you were looking at in the library shut loudly, making you jump. Remy was beside you.

“So, you found out my secret, after all, Cherie. You come with me. We need to talk.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Remy drove the two of you to an empty parking lot away from the city. You were suddenly terrified. What did he do to people that found out his secret? Kill them?

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

Your anxiety wasn’t helped when you heard the doors lock with a click.

“Wh-wh-what are you planning on?” you stuttered.

“Easy, (Y/N). I just want to talk and don’t want you storming out on me. We’re gonna have a talk and I’m going to explain everything.”

“Okay,” You couldn’t stop shaking. You wished you’d bought pepper spray, but your fears were calmed a little as he placed his large hands over yours.

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

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never think of hurting you, please don’t be so scared of me,” Remy insisted, his eyes soulful and pleading. He really seemed to mean it.

You just nodded.

“I was born in the time of  Pharoh when Egypt was the ruling power.  A scholar took me under his wing and raised me, but was killed in battle. I was trained to fight, but because of my eyes and powers, the Pharoh Rama-Tut tried to have me assassinated, thinking I’d take over. I didn’t have any desire for prestige or kingship, I just wanted to live my life out and die as normal, but we don’t always get what we want. That’s the secondary part of my mutation; I live a long time. Maybe forever, I don’t know. I do know that I’ve forced myself into isolation and it’s getting boring. I gave you that picture on purpose, hoping you’d be curious enough to find out my secret. You’re cute and sweet. I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you, and I want you to know me as well. No secrets. But there’s something else, and I don’t want you to get angry,”

“Oh, what? My manager is in the trunk because you’re out to stop bigotry?” You scoffed. You’d gradually stopped shaking, feeling better. Safer with him.

“I tried to save people, but I couldn’t save everyone. Women and children have died in my arms. Men hunted me down for what I was, even when I was trying to do the right thing. The best thing. To help and save others. I’ve made mistakes and people got hurt, people died. I just don’t want that to make you see me differently,” Remy said, “Someone else did once. Renay LeFluer. She never forgave me.”

“I’m not her, Remy.” You tentatively touched his shoulder, “I get it. You can’t save everyone. No one can, not even superheroes. You can trust me too.”

Silence.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m glad we understand each other but are we on the same page? Would you like to go out with me?” Remy asked.

“I’d love that, Remy. Now?”

“Tomorrow night,” Remy said, “You’ve had a long morning and it’s only Saturday. The place I have in mind is upscale, so you have to look your best.-Not that you aren’t cute now.” He brushed some hair out of your face.

“I’ll look forward to it,” You smiled.

Remy took you back to your car. You had many questions but didn’t want to bombard him all at once. That could wait until you saw him again.

TO BE CONTINUED

[harry-hollands]

selcouth // harry holland // 1

chapter 1: sunshine after the storm

story summary: Harry was used to living in his brothers’ shadows. Tom was the actor and Sam was the cook and musician. He was used to being second best and genuinely gave up on finding someone who could love him for him. Someone who could believe that Harry wasn’t second best. His mindset changes however, when he meets you. The sunshine to cast away all of the shadows.

chapter summary: harry finds his life a whole light brighter

pairing: harry holland x reader

warnings: none? maybe a few swears, slightly fluffy, moody harry,

word count: 1.6k

It was a bitter winter day, the brooding clouds seemed to match Harry’s mood. Ready to explode at any given moment in time. Why was Harry annoyed might you ask? Maybe because there was a nauseating reminder in front of him about how painfully single he was.

The heat was on full blast at the Holland-Osterfield-Barret residence, and a fire was blazing in the fireplace, but it wasn’t quite enough to fight off the bitter chills. Almost everyone was coupled up. Even Harrison, Harry’s go-to when he got sick of third-wheeling the long-term couples had someone to hold. 

“Harry? You alright there mate?” Came the concerned voice of Tom, who unknowingly, and unintentionally, made the twenty-three-year-old more agitated than he already was.

Harry scoffed but nodded. “M’fine. I just don’t need to be reminded of how tragically single I am while you all are cuddled up.” The boy reminded sharply, slightly glaring at the pathetic looks Nadia and Elysia held upon their faces, something Harry instantly regretted when he noticed both of his brother’s shared a threatening scowl at him, a silent appeal to conclude his nasty behavior.

Sora Tanaka, Haz’s girlfriend of eight months, and the only one brave enough to test the waters of Harry’s testiness, gave a genuine smile to the aspiring photographer. “Harry, maybe I could introduce you to one of my best friends. She’s probably one of the most genuine people I know, and I truly do think this could be what you might need right now.” 

Harry gently considered Sora’s words. Out of all of his friend’s significant others, Sora was probably his favorite. Maybe it was because she grew up in Hawaii, where everyone was laid back, maybe it was because Sora didn’t give a rat’s ass about what people thought of her, or maybe because she was the youngest in the group besides Paddy. Either way, Sora’s offer was one that caught the boys’ attention.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You want to introduce Harry to one of your mates? Willingly?” Harrison stated astonished, knowing exactly how protective his girlfriend got when it came to any of her close friends and family.

“Is it honestly that surprising? Your best friend needs change in his life, and all of you aren’t exactly helping with what he needs.”

“And how do you know what he needs? Are you Harry?” Tom piped up, eyebrows raised at Sora’s subtle accusation.

“I don’t know what he needs, but I sure as hell know that you shouldn’t bring someone so painfully single on a double date!” Sora retaliated, her tone becoming sharper and more defensive.

As hilarious as the whole encounter was, watching Sora give Harry’s older brother a verbal beatdown, he knew that he should probably put an end to it before anything could escalate. It seemed Harrison and Nadia shared the same idea, as they all exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement that they had let Tom and Sora go at it for way too long.

The sound of feet pattering down the stairs was heard, and along with it an alluring melody. Sora sharply cut off the argument she was dominating Tom at, as she keened her senses to the voice coming from Paddy’s phone.

“Who are you talking to mate?” Sam questioned curiously, as faint hints of the song were heard through the now awkward silence. 

Paddy had been upstairs talking to Y/N, an American exchange student he had met while exploring LAMDA. Paddy had decided he wanted to follow in Tom and Harrison in the acting department, and after he had graduated from the BRIT School, he immediately applied to Haz’s alma mater. (Harrison still had to thank Paddy for introducing him to Sora at a function that Tom had been unable to attend.)

“Oh...uh...Hamilton’s Instagram page is live right now. I was talking to my friend, but she had to go due to Hamilton rehearsals, so now I’m just watching them. This whole week is ensemble training. The current cast members are going to step down soon so they have to make sure the ensemble is ready to take over.” Paddy explained before exiting the stream and looking over at Sora.

“Oh Y/N says hi, and that you don’t have to pick her up. Aiyana is more than willing to.” Paddy relayed, but immediately narrowed his eyes at Sora’s mischievous smirk on her face. The younger boy sighed exasperatedly before asking the question he didn’t want the answer to. 

“What are you planning?”

“It’s nothing! I’m just thinking that Harry should accompany me! Besides, I should introduce you to Y/N! She’s so fucking talented, that I’m still in shock that she hasn’t been discovered yet!” Sora exclaimed, shooting Harry a suggestive smirk.

At the immediate mention of Y/N, Elysia shot up from her position on Sam’s lap, which in turn, startled the man, and an immediate slur of sorry’s were exchanged. “Wait. Wait. Wait. Are we talking about the same Y/N? Y/N L/N right?”

Sora turned to Elysia and nodded enthusiastically. “The very one!” The American exclaimed before a look of confusion crossed her features. “Wait, how do you know Y/N?” 

Elysia shyly giggled before recalling her first encounter with the unreserved female. “I believe it was Y/N’s first week in London and I met her at a theatre cast party. One of my cousins attends LAMDA, and is friends with her. Anyway, she invited me to the party, and it was so chaotic! I loved it. Y/N was teaching us some American party games, and then we started doing improv. Let me tell you, that girl is hilarious and I love her, and her energy.”

Harry cleared his throat, and finally, the attention was on him. “I mean, I’m down to go with you. What time are you supposed to pick her up?” He asked curiously, glancing at his phone for the time, which read 6:19 pm. 

Sora also glanced at her phone before placing her attention on the youngest Holland. “Is she done now?”

Paddy unlocked his phone and glanced down at Hamilton’s Instagram page before nodding. 

“Yeah. Looks like they just ended the stream. Mind if I tag along? Y/N/N forgot her winter coat in my car today, and the forecast claimed that it should be thirty degrees out.” Paddy responded before shrugging on his winter coat and boots. 

Harry’s face melted into a concerned frown. “Who forgets their winter coat on one of the coldest nights of the year?” The boy stood up from his spot in one of the love seats, and shrugged on his winter coat, Sora following suit. 

Paddy shrugged. “Y/N was in a rush to go. Today was the first day of dress rehearsals, and her hair wasn’t cooperating. When it finally did, she was extremely late, and almost didn’t make it inside the building in time.”

Sora shook her head. “Or maybe because she’s still not used to England weather? I mean Y/N, our other friend Aiyana, and I all grew up in Hawaii. All we know is the sun, sand, and ocean.”

“Ok, I just texted her. Y/N said to hurry because she’s waiting outside, and she swears she’s going to die of hypothermia. Oh! And she’s cool with coming back here if that’s what you were planning Sor.” Paddy piped in after typing something on his phone.

Harry and Paddy clambered into the car, with Sora in the driver’s seat. The car filled with gentle chatter, mainly from Harry asking a little more about Y/N, Paddy denying Harry a picture of what she looked like, and Sora cackling at Harry’s shocked expression of his younger brother denying him the ability to see what Y/N even looked like.

Around twenty minutes later, the trio had arrived outside Victoria Palace Theatre, and a figure came running at the car. Sora laughed as she unlocked the car, and Y/N threw her stuff in the boot/trunk of the car, slammed it shut, before running to open one of the doors, clambering in beside Harry, and slamming the door shut.

As soon as Y/N was buckled in, and Sora took off, back to the Holland-Osterfield-Barret residence, Harry turned to introduce himself before he felt all the air being sucked out of his lungs and body. 

‘Holy shit,’ was all Harry could think when he saw the twenty-one-year-old. The young photographer was stunned into silence. Harry swore that Y/N was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Nothing had taken his breath away quite like Y/N had. 

In an attempt to recover, Harry flashed a sincere smile before waving shyly. “Uh. Hey. I’m Harry. Sora’s mentioned you a couple times.”

Y/N smiled brightly at Harry and giggled shyly. “I’m Y/N. I’m an exchange student, but looking to stay here full time, instead of immediately leaving right after my senior year.”

Harry’s head was swimming. All he could think was that he had met the literal definition of sunshine. Her smile was as bright as the sun, her giggle was as soft as a warm summer breeze, and her voice was ethereal. Not even five minutes into meeting the girl and he was already whipped. Harry swore that Y/N couldn’t be remotely human. She had to be a goddess. Maybe she was Apollo. A female incarnation of Apollo.

Harry nodded, returning a smile in kind. He could stare into her eyes forever. They exerted such a warmth, and only sitting next to her, Harry felt secure. Like he could tell Y/N anything without being judged. It was decided. She was his sunshine. His sunshine in the dark. God, he was so whipped.

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[misssophiachase]

For KC Bingo @klaroline-events - “Throne”

He’s a Prince hiding out from a pending arranged engagement in downtown NYC and she’s a school teacher minding her own business. On FF and AO3

Art Imitating Life

St John Atelier: Soho (Manhattan) New York City, NY

“Please tell me Rebekah doesn’t know your whereabouts?”

“That’s really the first thing you’re going to say after I’ve travelled 3,500 miles to visit. I know my younger sister scares you but...”

“She doesn’t scare me, well not that much,” he mumbled. “Did I mention how good it is to see you, Niklaus?”

Klaus had barely stopped to think before hastily packing his belongings, offering a feeble excuse and boarding a private flight to the United States. First stop, Enzo St John’s Atelier in downtown Manhattan. 

Klaus had met Enzo in Paris where they both studied art at the Sorbonne ten years earlier. They had immediately hit it off and formed a solid friendship that transcended many different time zones over the years. 

Enzo moved to New York three earlier to start his own art school and gallery. He wanted to support and promote local and upcoming artists who couldn’t afford to do so themselves. Klaus had championed his friend’s endeavours over the years and wished he had the freedom to pursue something similar. 

Unfortunately, the Prince of England had other more pressing priorities.  

“Better late than never I suppose,” he muttered. “I hope you don’t mind putting me up for a few weeks?”

“How about I stay in the Royal Suite at the Waldorf Astoria, that your aides have no doubt already booked, and you can stay at my lowly loft in Tribeca?”

“Always about you, isn’t it, Lorenzo?”

“Well, when you’re the best friend to a Prince it seems fair,” he teased. “So, can I ask why you’ve decided to show up unannounced at my atelier? And might I also add, where is your usually extensive entourage? I may be fit but not enough to protect you from out of control females throwing their panties at you on the street.”

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” He joked before answering one question at a time. “Vacation to avoid my upcoming, arranged engagement. They are in England but I have two bodyguards Scotland Yard insisted upon and my life isn’t a Tom Jones concert, there is absolutely no throwing of undergarments just FYI.”

“Damn, I always hoped there’d be panties.”

“Nice to see nothing ever changes with you,” he chuckled. “And if I didn’t mention it earlier, Rebekah sends her kindest regards.”

“I’ll bet she does,” he smirked knowingly. “Your sister really can’t get enough of me. Now, how about we get a drink and discuss this engagement? I’m assuming I'm the best man and have approval over all bridesmaids?”

“How about we drink here?”

“Worried about those panties, hey?”

“You know me too well. Let’s just say I’m keeping a low profile,” he murmured, tapping his New York Yankees hat. “Also, I seem to recall a bloody expensive bottle of single malt, top shelf whiskey I sent over for your birthday.”

“Do you really think I’d save that? Although, I do have a less expensive bottle of middle shelf whiskey, Your Highness.” 

“I suppose that will have to do.” 

2 seconds later

“I don’t understand why you can’t tell Esther and Mikael that it’s the twenty-first century and you’re far too old to be beholden to such an outdated practice like an arranged marriage.” 

“You’ve met my parents,” Klaus growled. “Their greatest joy in life is to make me do something I don’t want to do and after Finn decided to elope with a questionable commoner and Elijah entered the priesthood, they’re worried I’m going to do something similar.”

“So, what you’re really telling me is that they’re more worried that, if you go rogue, Kol will be the only hope of carrying on the family tradition and it scares the bejeezus out of them?”

“Exactly.” Enzo didn’t respond immediately, just let out a knowing laugh. “So, you see my eternal dilemma.”

“Tell me with the impending nuptials you’ve at least met your bride-to-be for more than five minutes?”

“It’s rather difficult when she lives in Bulgaria,” he replied. “Tatia Petrova is beautiful, that much I know, but other than that we have nothing in common.”

“Now I know what this is about,” Enzo grinned. “You sly dog, you’ve come to the states to find yourself an alternative wife.”

“An alternative wife? Someone has clearly been watching too many of those romantic comedy movies.”

“It’s called a rom-com, Your Royal Highness, and one of the most popular movie genres.”

 “Well, whatever they are, I am doing no such thing. Also, never call me that, it always seems so tawdry when you utter it. If you must know I needed a break from all the pressure, some time to unwind and pretend I’m not a Prince and have a life of my own.”

“Sounds just like the plot from a rom-com” he teased. “All we need is a strong, intelligent, independent, beautiful and slightly feisty woman to come into the atelier and sweep an unhappy Prince off his feet.”

“Do you ever think you’re working in the wrong industry?”

“So, what exactly did you tell Esther and Mikael you were doing?” He asked, choosing not to respond to his smart comeback. “They know from experience that I’m an incredibly bad influence over you, Niklaus.”

“Exactly why they have no idea I’m with you.”

“You lied to the Queen? Wow, I don’t want to be around when she catches you out and she will because, if you hadn’t noticed, everyone knows who and what you are.”

“I said I was going to a world-class meditation retreat in Sedona to relax before the big announcement.”

“So, not only does she think you’ve taken up meditation, she thinks you’re in Arizona and not with yours truly in New York?”

“That’s about the gist of it,” he replied simply. “So, I was thinking it might be best to stay indoors, order copious amounts of Uber Eats and paint so I don’t draw attention to myself. I’ll only burden you for a couple of weeks, Lorenzo.”  

“Do you even know how to order UberEats?” Klaus rolled his eyes by way of response. “Wow, that’s my idea of a wild vacation, Niklaus,” he sighed. “Fine, I’ll keep your secret if you insist. But if the Queen finds out and tries to behead me, I am counting on you to organise a speedy pardon.”

2 days later

Klaus rolled out of bed trying to block out the invading sunlight peeking through the crack in the curtains.

Enzo had kindly offered Klaus his large loft on the top story of the atelier he used to store paintings. A passionate art fan, Klaus couldn’t think of a better place to spend his next two weeks. 

He stumbled down the stairs and toward the small kitchenette on the floor below. Being half asleep and struggling with jet lag he didn’t bother to dress. The area was completely off limits to the public and Klaus figured his fitted, grey boxers would suffice in order to get his much-needed caffeine fix.

“Don’t come any closer, I have mace,” a voice warned. Klaus looked up, not expecting an extremely attractive blonde to be there rifling through her handbag. No doubt attempting to find said mace but, by the looks of it, failing miserably. Klaus was tempted to lecture her about carrying around so much junk, as Rebekah tended to do, but thought better of it.

“Hold on,” he murmured, finally finding his voice. “Why are you trying to attack me, last time I checked you’re the one breaking and entering.”

“And last time I checked, you’re not Enzo.” Her expressive, blue eyes ventured lower and Klaus was fairly certain she liked what she saw.

“What gave it away, love?”

“That arrogant self-assurance for starters.”

“Are we talking about the same guy?”

“I know what you’re doing,” she growled wearily.

“And what exactly am I doing, well you know besides trying to fulfil my caffeine fix to ward off this horrible case of jet lag.”

“You forgot to add barely dressed,” she shot back, as a slight blush crossed her cheeks. “No, you are trying to distract me so I don’t mace your ass.”

“And here I thought mace was meant for the face, you Americans are funny creatures. I’m staying here, love, no need to attack me, especially this early in the day.”

“It’s lunchtime,” she huffed.

“Really? It feels so much earlier. Now, maybe I should be the one asking the questions since you are encroaching on my space.”

“Glad to see you’re making friends,” Enzo interrupted. “As the welcoming committee you could have at least thrown on a shirt.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he hissed. “In fact, she broke in here and threatened to, and I quote, ‘mace my ass.’”

“Why do you have a conceited, half dressed, smart ass in your attic, Enzo?”

“Tell me what you really think, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Klaus thought she was beautiful but her feisty and unapologetic charm was an unexpected and not wholly unwelcome surprise.

“Okay, children,” he chided. “Kl..” Klaus gave him a knowing look, he was supposed to be undercover after all.

“Caroline Forbes this is an old friend from England, although I use the word friend sparingly, uh James.”

“What? Just James? Like Madonna or Cher?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions, Caroline?”

“Says the guy half dressed.”

“You seem incredibly distracted by that fact, love.”

“I have no idea what’s going on here and to be honest don’t really want to know,” Enzo groaned. “But Caroline is one of my students and does a few errands around the place, hence why she has a key.”

“Oh, so you two are...” Klaus trailed off, gesturing between them.

“No!”

“Ew, yuck.”

“Gee thanks, darling, give a guy a complex. We’re friends, well except when she says things like that, it has been since Care Bear demanded I share my artistic gifts with her and I was kind enough to oblige.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it went,” she drawled, rolling her eyes for extra effect. Klaus couldn’t stop thinking just how adorable she looked doing it. “I teach at the local public school and given the complete lack of funding for an art program Enzo offered his atelier for weekly classes. Turns out it wasn’t just the children interested in learning.”

“Who knew you had a heart, Lorenzo?”

“And who knew you had a freckle right above…”

“How about I go get dressed? Will that make you both happy?”

“Well, I’m bringing kids here in two hours so I think that might be a good idea,” she replied, a slight smile tugging at the edges of those pink lips.  Klaus didn’t respond just shook his head as he took the stairs one-by-one, his caffeine fix a long and distant memory.

2 hours later

Caroline Forbes wasn’t the kind of person to get distracted, in fact she liked to think that her ability to focus was second-to-none. Well, that was until two hours earlier when a shirt-less, English Adonis decided to interrupt her daily routine.

He was clearly a big fan of himself. overly opinionated and frustratingly cocky but Caroline couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to do more than look at his partially naked body.

Yes, maybe it had been too long, as Katherine would say, but those crimson lips curved into a knowing smile, those disarming dimples and those messy, blonde curls she wanted to run her hands through were flashing through her mind with no sign of stopping.

“Miss Forbes,” she was broken from her thoughts by someone tugging on her dress. “I need to go bathroom.”

They’d arrived at the atelier not long ago. Her class, excited to see Enzo, were milling around the room but her attention was on something else. Or someone else.

Caroline figured he probably had better things to do like sight see but she really didn’t know much about him at the end of the day. She didn’t even know his last name.

There was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on either, he seemed so familiar, like she knew him from somewhere, which was crazy. Well, she kept telling herself that.

“Okay, Hudson,” she said, “let’s go to the bathroom.” Hudson always needed to go to the bathroom so Caroline wasn’t altogether surprised. As they made their way down the long corridor, she took in the walls filled with art not paying much attention to where she was going and running straight into something. Or someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” Before she could finish her apology she saw his smirk. It was the kind of smirk that screamed you ran into me on purpose.

Bastard.

“Well, that tends to happen when you’re not looking where you’re going.” His smirk only grew wider at that point.

“I’d say it was a pleasure but I’d be lying,” she shot back, that same feeling of familiarity returning. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like someone?”

 “Well, we all look like someone,” he answered, his awkward pause not lost on Caroline. “And who is this? A friend of yours?”

“I’m Hudson and I really need to pee.” Caroline watched the discomfort cross his face and couldn’t help but gloat inwardly. That would teach him for smirking at her like that.

She sent him her best counter smirk and ushered her mini companion to the nearby bathroom. At least he was clothed this time but why did he have to smell so damn good?

What she wasn’t expecting was for him to be taking part in the class when she returned with Hudson in tow. It was like he was doing it to frustrate her and it was working. 

“I set you up here,” he smiled, gesturing to the easel. 

“Oh, I don’t paint during this class,” she stumbled. Caroline loved to draw but only when she was alone and not surrounded by seventeen sets of prying eyes. As a teacher, Caroline knew full well that kids could be the worst critics. 

“You should, I can help out with your class if you like?” His blue eyes were gazing into hers now, imploring, pleading almost. What was this guy doing to her? “Or we can share?”

“You don’t want to share with him, Miss, he’s got boy germs,” Lucy cried out from across the room. Trust her children to make an awkward moment more awkward.

“I wouldn’t want you to be subjected to my boy germs, love,” he smiled, his mouth dipping low so he could murmur it in her ear.

“Am I interrupting you two?” Enzo asked, clearly amused by the situation. “Do I need to punish you both because I will.”

“Not at all, Mister St John,” he mimicked, placing a paintbrush in her hand gently. Caroline was struggling to breathe now and not just because of his close proximity but the way his hand grazed hers. 

“Miss Forbes and the teacher sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Chanting broke out from the corner of the room and she knew it had to be Claudia, Sienna and Scarlett leading the chorus. 

“Ew, gross! Girl germs!” That was Liam, Cory and Jack attempting to drown them out. 

“You are unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“You really need to stop complimenting me so much, Caroline.” She was trying to ignore just how good her name sounded rolling off his tongue but was struggling to say the least. 

“For embarrassing me in front of my students you will pay, mark my words.” He didn’t respond just laughed. 

Class passed relatively quickly with only a few more interesting observations from her kids. Caroline found herself enjoying his company, not that she’d admit it.         

It was after she’d left the atelier and finished classes for the day that Caroline began to revisit those niggling thoughts at the back of her mind. The ones that kept reminding her just how familiar he looked. 

Then it came to her.

2 hours later

“I really should have suspected something, given that pathetic introduction. I mean besides celebrities who really goes by one name?”

“Excuse me?” He asked. Klaus had been minding his business, sitting by the window and nursing a cup of tea. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she left with her class and now here she was. “Does Lorenzo know just how much you use his key?”

“Stop changing the subject, Your Highness.”

“Oh, I see,” he murmured knowingly. Klaus would be lying if he wasn’t a little disappointed his cover had been blown. He was enjoying being around her and conversing like two normal people and then she had to throw in those two dreaded words. “You don’t need to call me that. Between you and me I actually preferred conceited, half dressed, smart ass.”

“So do I,” she grinned. 

“Please tell me this isn’t going to change things between us because I happen to like those adorable eye rolls and steady stream of choice insults.”

“As long as the fact that I threatened the Prince of England doesn’t come with any kind of serious punishment.”

“Well to be honest, Caroline, I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said you threatened to ‘mace my ass’ between you and me.”

“You’re being awfully cocky for someone who finds himself in a precarious position.”

“And what position might that be?”

“Well, I could blow your cover, tell everyone the Prince of England is hiding out in an atelier in downtown Manhattan.” 

“Well, you could but I don’t think you will,” he murmured. 

“Well, you did embarrass me in a room full of my students, they may be young but that doesn’t mean they are not going to hold this over me for some time given their extremely long memories.”

“I’ll admit, I could have been less embarrassing i suppose. So, how exactly can I acquit myself?”

“Well, I am behind on my life drawing assignment.”

“So, what exactly are you suggesting?” 

He was standing now, his gaze trained on Caroline. She looked beautiful in jeans, ballet flats and a sweater that matched the colour of her eyes perfectly. Klaus had to admit, his mind was going to places they probably shouldn’t be but he decided to blame it on another part of his body that was threatening to betray him. 

“You could pose for me, I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“If you liked me all you needed to do is admit it, sweetheart.”

“We’ll arrange some fruit for your nether regions don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to inflate that already sizeable ego any further.” 

“So, let me get this straight. I pose for your assignment  and you keep my secret?”

“And you also tell me why you’re here hiding out in Enzo’s atelier.” 

“Wow, you drive a hard bargain, love, but I’m up for the challenge.”

Turns out one complicated story about an impending engagement and life drawing later, school teacher Caroline Forbes and Prince of England Klaus Mikaelson took commoner/royalty relations to the next level.

In fact, they were both fairly certain they fell in love then and there.

Although his parents fought his wishes initially they came to love Caroline just like he did. Not only that but her grace, kindness and passion for humanitarian causes made her one of the most admired and beloved members of the British Royal Family. 

Meanwhile, Tatia Petrova who was also against the arranged marriage, married her bodyguard whom she’d secretly been in love with for years. 

And they all lived happily ever after.

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—chapter nine ; with heat & wet skin.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta. 

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, implied nsfw, drinking, mentions + drug use

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

MASON was quick on his feet when he was given the slightly odd request Teresa had asked him to do last minute. It had nothing to do with the gallery or with separation of last minute business meetings to be scheduled in the margins of the diary. It was just that he had to safely track down a dangerous man. Luca Changretta was still in England, hot-headed with a plan.

Teresa loved fur shawls. Though she detested how the cheap ones she could afford wore out from time to time, from the "fur" falling out like leaves from a tree in autumn, or even its colour turning from new to depressed (and even she grew so envious over the women who wore the luxurious, expensive ones at parties). Tommy Shelby never bothered with buying her what she wanted, which she was fine with, but one man with the Italian genes spoiled her with one that she kept in her closet. A grey-ish white. Teresa often takes one look at it, before sliding it over to reach the silky see-through shawl when she is simply relaxing in her home. At parties she debated even thinking of taking it out, but then there was the other shawl that was made of black fur, and it closed together with a silver clip to keep her shoulders warm.

The fur shawl was just like the painting she avoids at her own work. Both were so beautiful and timeless, both sharing personal meaning. But tonight, it finally saw light from staying in the wardrobe closet for too long. Teresa held it out in front of her, then clutched it in her arms.

The bar was built together with grey walls, none sound-proof. On the other side you could hear the jazz band playing music for the party, or footsteps from the owner or a bartender heading out back for more stocking of gin. If you were on that side, you'd hear the giant doors spring open from the doorman that allowed Teresa to enter inside. The man at the counter watched as her dress fell all the way down to her heels, not too long so she wouldn't trip. Her hair was in its curls once more, and wrapped around like comfort was the fur.

She reached a booth and set her purse on the table. "White wine."

"Ma'am-" the server goes.

"A man will be joining me very soon." Teresa made a smile, as the unescorted woman if Luca were to not show up. Had she imagined if Luca burned the invitation letter she mailed to his hotel, or simply tossed it away, in future to be used as scratch paper, or even as a roll up (if Luca is one of the many people that did snow), she may have just wasted her time getting dolled up just to not be served at her booth.

"Last time I met up with a woman at a bar, she proposed a deal, and lied straight to my face."

She shot her head up.

Those eyes.

Looks like her night wasn't going to waste after all. "Are you talking about Polly?" She watches as Luca Changretta helps himself on the other side of the booth, the same server coming over to Teresa with her white wine.

Teresa waited while staring down at Luca's own glass being poured with four fingers of whiskey. Luca glanced at Teresa's outfit, not answering her question. "You're wearing the shawl I got you? I can't believe you still have it."

"What, like I got rid of it? Why would I give it to someone else who would treat it like a rag?"

"Hm." Luca took a sip. "So, why did you summon me here? Actually, I know the answer to that one. You're a businesswoman, as we both know. You invited me here to propose some kind of deal, eh? Like I got the time to spare one more fucking thing before I go do what I came to England to do?"

"I know about the vendetta, Luca." Teresa began. "And I know the deal you made with Polly, which was a lie, by the way. I know about that. What I also know is that you don't just plan on crushing the Peaky Blinders. You have more on your mind. You're so greedy that you would want to overthrow Alfie Solomons as well. If he were to betray Tommy with the deal you made with Mr. Solomons, you know you and your men would come after him as well and take over his business."

Luca nodded. "I had a feeling you knew. I had a feeling Tommy Shelby brought you back to Birmingham, no?"

"I know your patience is wearing thin, and you're done giving people more time. But then there's me."

"Right, forgive me," Luca places a hand on his chest. "Why not talk about the royalty in front of me as well? What could she possibly request for this time?"

"I wanna know why I was never sent a Black Hand."

Luca laughs, trailing his fingers around the rim of his glass. Whatever Teresa said or did, she definitely wasn't laughing. Nothing seemed funny to her on her end. She did, however, miss that laugh of his. It was more of a chuckle, but she loved it like it was honey in hot tea. "Let me tell you something. It's best to stay out of this, right? Since you resigned, messing with us is like throwing stones at the devil."

"I'll play in the snow with the devil to prove you wrong."

Luca scoffs harshly. "So you're one of those people that snorts white lines just to feel good?"

"That was just my own figure of speech, Luca. I don't do Tokyo," Teresa replied. She cringed at the habit Arthur and Michael carelessly picked up on. "It's everyone's thing now, but not mine."

"That makes two of us." He took another sip. "I'm doing you a favour here, Miss Griffith. Stay out of this and do your own thing."

"There's no need for you to call me that," she comments.

"Why the hell not? Formalities are a thing of the past now?"

"You're talking to me as if we just met. We had something together."

"Yeah, had."

Teresa gave a glare, grabbing her wine. Luca smirks. "All right. Whatever you say. Jesus, kid. You're so fuckin' difficult."

"Kid," she scoffs at his remark. "And Ada Thorne is on your list and she doesn't get her hands covered in blood. So why wasn't I included?"

"You feel left out?" Luca snickered.

"I just wanna know why. I know damn well you haven't forgotten about me. Even if what we had to you was just for pleasure, you found out that I was once a Peaky Blinder."

Luca stares. "You wanted out because you felt like it would devour you forever, so I respected your wishes. You told me why you threw in the towel. And I know you're not a Shelby, you don't wanna be a Shelby."

The server comes up to them. "Sir? Ma'am? Would any of you like to hear the specials tonight?"

"No, thank you." Teresa smiles.

"More whiskey," Luca says. "And for the lady, she'll have more wine." Teresa raised her brows. She didn't mind more wine, would she care so much about knowing her limit before it was time to wince at the tab?

"I forgot you love whiskey," Teresa points out.

"Italian whiskey," Luca made a hand gesture. "As I was saying... have you thought long and hard about this, as to why I'm here? As to why I want Tommy Shelby dead, how I now want everyone dead?"

"Your father." There was a pause between the two. The jazz band transitioned their music to a much slower song this time, and it started easing the nerves in both the former couple's systems despite the volume of alcohol consumed. "Arthur Shelby killed your father. John Shelby killed your brother Angel."

"If things didn't happen the way it did, my men and I would be cozying up in New York counting stacks by stacks."

"And I wouldn't be seeing you here," Teresa added. "Almost ever again," Teresa thanks the server for the excess wine refilling in her glass, then Luca's. "Now can we talk about the giant elephant in the room?"

Luca furrows his brows.

"I know why you left, Luca. I know it's been five years, but you really just packed up and left. I've never seen you so frantic until that day when you were running to the train." Not even an eye bat. "I grew miserable ever since."

"Can I say this?" Luca leaned forward, placing the cuffs of his tailored suit that it laid flat on the tablecloth. "Whatever emotion you saw in my eyes on that day, whatever it was, it was for the sake of being alive for my family. Someone's gotta help keep the business up and runnin'. None of it works if I'm not there."

Teresa stares at Luca. This man wasn't wrong. It wasn't like he was running everything in his family all on his own. His father led the family in Birmingham that Angel was a part of, even his mother lived with them, but what makes New York so important and comforting to Luca must have felt like a whole outlet of anything he ever accomplishes, how many Tommy guns he can hold and keep in his home like picture frames, how many men he has to hire from Sicily and America just to help kill one family. All of that was justified when he boarded that train to the Liverpool docks.

"Oh," Teresa straightened her back. "So much for being the big, bad capo."

"Be careful," Luca warned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't question a gangster's honour."

"You know I crack jokes here and there," Teresa's lips curled into a smirk as it reached the rim of her glass.

"So do I," said Luca.

She looked down at his hands that rested on the table. His experienced, non-scrawny hands that had a black hand tattooed on his wrist, one with a crown, and maybe some other new ones Luca got over time. She used to kiss all of them, even the one on his neck that was a cross. His right hand was wrapped with big, gold rings on two fingers, except he only kept his ring finger free of anything, that was something she wanted to bring up. "You got all those rings on your fingers but not a wedding ring.

"Not like you got one on yours, either. Unless you took it off before coming here," Luca jokes.

She shakes her head. "I've been too busy to fall in love with another soul. But you? You didn't tie the knot with Viviana back in New York?"

Luca scowled, knowing Teresa hadn't forgotten about that woman as he did. "No. I still see her occasionally."

"Yet you haven't done anything with her? Never bothered to find anyone to satisfy your mother?"

"My mother says any woman from New York or even from the old country would do."

"What did you say, after?"

"Mamma, you're killin' me.'" Teresa had to chuckle at that, Luca smiled at her. He then looked around the bar, seeing how more of the guests had gotten up to dance with their dates as the jazz music cranked up their higher tunes like a machine. "Don't tell me we're gonna be sitting here all fuckin' night. You wanna dance, Miss Tour Guide?"

The nickname he gave to her the first time. Did he really sit in front of her and tell her he couldn't remember everything they had, then? "I'm a little rusty," Teresa declines.

'We gotta stretch our legs somehow. I ain't even see your whole getup for the night."

Teresa had no problem getting up from the booth. She stepped out so that her heels were shown as well, and she placed the fur shawl down on her seat so her shoulders were out. The dress wasn't purchased by Luca, but by her, and she felt like a Grand Princess, like a little girl playing with their mother's dresses and makeup. She was never too insecure about her looks since it never bothered her, but she felt beautiful, and she wondered if Luca will still ever see her as beautiful whether or not she is clothed in front of him.

Luca kept on staring. "Then perhaps we can head somewhere else," he suggests. "Somewhere we're both quite familiar with."

How and why didn't matter, the young man who looked to be around Arthur Shelby's age paid no second thought to his surroundings as he aggressively snuffed the thick lines of cocaine that formed on the ledge up his nostril. He begins wiping away any excess off his face, exiting the balcony seats just as the Italian mobster escorts Teresa inside the dark theatre to their respected spots.

"You're a lover of theatre," Teresa spoke quietly as the show resumed to its first act.

"If you dress like one, you are one." Luca hooked his leg over the other, folding his hands on his lap.

It was silent, not the awkward or tense silence, but silent to respect and see the performance. Silence or absolute noise, the stage was the latter. The good kind of noise. The skimpy dancers twirled with batons, the man and woman playing the perky main lovers belted the note they must have spent days and nights rehearsing over and over.

Luca knew there would be performances every night back in New York City. There was always something to do and somewhere to go, otherwise you'd be glued to your chairs at home.

The show was about to end, and Luca, for the first time in God's glorious mysterious time, took Teresa by the hand and curled them together on his lap, his eyes were fixated to theatricality in front of the hundreds of people.

Teresa reacts, slowly looking down. It was nearly dark, but she could feel the giant, lumpy rings from his fingers bump into hers. He always held her hand during a show, and would only let go to join the applause when a number came to its big finish, or when the grand finale brought hypnotic joy and bliss in each audience member's senses like himself that he just had to give the standing ovation.

But just as the audience erupted in deafening applause, cheers and whistles, Luca and Teresa remained the only two members seated, their hands still holding.

HIS hotel room was neat and tidy before he left, now the sheets on the giant bed wrinkled like aged skin when Luca held Teresa down to remove her stockings. She missed his touch. The feeling of being pinned on a bed as he dominated over her, practically tearing what she wore for the occasion just to see her underneath as a sight for his sore eyes, it was definitely there, and her heart pounded.

"Luca," she breathed out a moan. He kissed her softly, now only responding with pacing movements, from positioning her to grabbing the protection from the nightstand drawers. Though he was careful with the dress and fur shawl that was set on the office desk he sat in earlier, within seconds her brassiere was tossed on the floor. With the help from Teresa, she managed to undress Luca from head to toe by just sitting up, and he was now unclothed from the fresh tailored suit his uncle made back in Mott Street.

They kissed again, and Luca went in.

+ me writing "smut": 🧿👄🧿 but ooooo shiiiit their “business” meeting was quite a night lol.

[skyburger]

oh my goddddd it makes me so mad that i am pretty much doomed to live in the united fucking states of america for the rest of my life because i seriously do not want to learn to drive. like it makes me so fucking anxious i get anxious on STAIRS how am i supposed to fucking drive. but because we live in the worst place on earth theres no other option. like i cannot afford ubers everywhere nor is there fucking public transportation. and like moving out of the country would be a hassle at best and undoable at worst from reasons ranging from "i use a lot of electronics / computers / video game consoles often and i do NOT want to deal with different power outlets / voltages again" (i lived overseas for 5 years and it was hell to get any consoles set up. but like im not fucking re-buying all my games and a british wii instead its a lose-lose) to "some of my medication (mostly adderall) is straight up not legal in most countries so that severely limits my options". hell on fucking earth! i do not want to live in this wretched country i genuinely do not like it here but anywhere else i would like to live usually has adderall as an illegal drug. like here are my top picks for where i would live if i could live overseas no problems (in no particular order):

japan. good public transportation, i speak some of the language and am working on learning more. however adderall is illegal there so it's out of the question

germany. good public transportation, i speak some of the language & am working on learning more, plus i have german citizenship which saves a lot of hassle. adderall is also not legal here so it's out of the question

england. have lived there before, good public transportation, have family i know and love there. adderall is legal here! however i already lived in england 5 years and i kind of dont really want to go back. like its a lovely country! id just rather live somewhere new u know

canada. adderall is legal here and i obviously speak english. however the public transportation situation i hear is pretty much the same (maybe SLIGHTLY better) so like whats the fucking point its a whole hassle for really no benefit

and like even if i DID move to england or canada. i think i'd have to get it re-prescribed and like it was enough of a hassle the first time i know theyre gonna want me to try every other adhd medication before i get adderall back like Please. i already spent years trying them all and this is the only one that works for me. so my current options (at least in my mind) are this:

live overseas and just have someone mail me my prescription. however this is very illegal and i would risk going to jail for this for up to five years in germany and up to ten in japan (and potentially being deported in the latter!), not to mention the possibility of being fined instead of or as well as that

stay in the US and continue to take my meds legally. and just Suffer. best case scenario if i can SOMEHOW afford to live somewhere walkable (a city probably) then i can do that

learn to drive. absolutely not happening! i am too much of a nervous nelly

like i seriously dont want to have to work out the best medication for me AGAIN in another country but at this point thats probably the best option. adderall i will miss you dearly. i think i was gonna say something else but i forgot what it was. idk. idk! ill figure it out eventually

[ficklefics]

Who Needs Enemies - Chapter One: Trouble Never Stops

SEQUEL TO FRIENDS LIKE THESE

It’s only been a few months since Harleen’s birthday and her new normal is undoubtedly strange; her and Jerome’s lives are completely intertwined. It’s not quite a relationship, but they undoubtedly have a growing and twisted connection. For once in her life she is happy - until Jerome’s past begins to unravel and she discovers that he has been less than honest with her.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel, Jeremiah Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I groan and roll over, slamming my hand onto the clock to silence the shrill alarm. I’ve barely slept, but if I was dreaming I don’t remember what.

Even after three months, it still feels strange to wake up in my empty childhood home.

My parents didn’t come back after they went to Norway. Instead, they moved to New York again – the only logical option from their perspective. They didn’t try to get me to join them; I guess they finally realised that there are far more reasons for me to stay than there are to go.

It’s a typical morning. I get dressed and go downstairs. First thing is to turn on the coffee machine. While it’s doing its thing I fill up Puddin’s food and water. She’s six months old now and reaches up to my knee; almost completely unrecognisable from the puppy I got last Christmas. I scratch behind her ears and stand back up, grabbing two mugs and filling them up with fresh coffee. The scent fills the room, making me sigh audibly.

Then comes the perfectly timed chapping at the back door. I turn around as Jerome comes in. “It really shocks me how punctual you are.” There’s no need for ‘hello’s’. “I’m a criminal, not disrespectful.” He scoffs. I grin, sliding his coffee over to him. He picks it up and takes a slow sip. “You seriously make the best coffee.” “Only because I have an expensive coffee machine.” I walk around the island between us to stand beside him. “Rich girl perks.” I shrug. He wraps an arm around me and squeezes my shoulders, making me giggle. “Guess that’s a good enough reason to keep you around.” “Very funny. You know you’re stuck with me.” I elbow him in the stomach, slightly harden than could be considered teasing. Jerome seems to consider the words for a moment before his grip tightens and I’m being spun around so the counter is pressed against my back and Jerome is leaning over me. “Maybe you’re the one who’s stuck with me.”

A few months ago this would have scared me – not anymore.

I give a smirk and, with a grab of his collar, spin us both around so that we’ve swapped and it’s my arms around him. “Are you sure about that?” “Someone’s confident.” “You know it.” I wink. He shakes his head with a smile before leaning down and kissing me.

His touch still sends electricity through every nerve in my body. My skin tingles. My heart races.

My arm slides away from me on the counter and knocks into one of the mugs. The sound of it smashing on the ground pulls us apart. Jerome laughs at the mess and I slap his shoulder before grabbing a dustpan and a paper towel to clean up the mess. “Thanks for the help,” I grumble as I drop the shards in the trash. “You looked like you had it handled.” “Sure.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, remember, no surprise visits tonight or tomorrow. Wren’s visiting, and she can’t find out about this.” “Not sure how I feel about being your dirty little secret, Harls.” “Deal with it.”

*

As soon as Wren and I are through the door I take off my heels and drop them haphazardly on the floor. She laughs at me and I make a face at her before leading the way into the front room. We collapse onto opposite couches, her facing the bay window and me facing the open doors to the dining room. Who would have thought dinner could be so exhausting?

“It feels weird being back.” She sighs, a melancholy smile on her face. “You’re telling me,” I laugh softly. “You’d think coming back after five years would be the big deal – not five months.” “Well, a lot more has happened in the five months I’ve been in England than the whole time we were in New York.” “That’s a good point.” She hesitates before she speaks again. “I’m glad life is back to normal.” I nod in agreement. “Things got scary for a bit.” “That feels like an understatement.” She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to get kidnapped so much in six months.” “What can I say, I’m an overachiever.” “Hilarious.” She leans forward, an earnest look in her eyes. “It is all over though, right? He’s disappeared?” “Yup. I haven’t seen or heard of Jerome Valeska in months…” I trail off at the sight of the bastard in question frozen in the doors behind Wren. My eyes widen in sudden panic but I force myself to keep calm. “You okay?” She frowns at my sudden change in demeanour. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, just thought I saw something.” She goes to turn and I panic again. “It’s nothing! It’s fine.” My outburst manages to keep her attention on me long enough for Jerome to disappear out of sight. I have no clue what he’s doing here. I am going to kill him.

*

It’s after midnight when Wren’s head starts to droop. We say our goodnights, and after locking the doors and checking that Jerome is actually gone, I head to my room.

As I’m getting changed I notice a scrap of paper on my desk that I know wasn’t there before. I pick it up and unfold it to find a name: ‘Zachary Trumble’ – Jerome’s uncle. My mind flickers back to Jerome and I, sat in that cell, waiting for death.

“It’s not cheery.” “Nothing is with you. Or everything is.” “Fine. So, when I was a kid, before I realised the world hated me, I had an uncle.” “Zach.” “Smart girl.” “Ha ha.” “Dear old mom’s brother. He was a cook at the circus, and he would bake too. Great at it. We used to try and steal cookies from him. One time, he caught me. Took my hand and shoved it in a pot of boiling stock. Practically cooked me down to the bone. Took months for the burns to heal. And I never forgot the smell of my own flesh boiling.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s funny.”

…

“You said, “we”. Did you have friends?” “Doesn’t matter.” “But -” “I said, it doesn’t matter!”

He never mentioned the story or his uncle again – it was very clearly off-limits. The note means nothing to me, so I drop it back on the desk and let myself fall into a restless sleep.

*

It’s 3am when the ringing of my phone wakes me up. I answer quickly, if only to shut it up. “Hello?” My voice is muddy and hoarse with sleep. “Hey.” It’s Jerome. I can hear sirens. “Look, I’m in trouble.” Now wide awake, I sit up, clutching the phone to my ear. “What’s happening? Do you need help?” “Nah, I’ll be fine. Did you see my note?” “You mean the very unhelpful one?” I glance over at it. “Yeah.” “I need you to find him. Any information you can.” The sirens are getting louder. “Look, I need to go. See ya’ later.” “Wait, Jerome -” Silence. He hung up. There’s nothing I can do.

CHAPTER TWO

[chiseler]

Echoes

One book from my childhood has always haunted me. Cursed Be the Treasure, by H. B. Drake, didn't just get under my skin, it crawled inside and gnawed. An "adventure" tale of smugglers and pirates, of guilt and vengeance, it was a cold soak in an alternately reality that I could believe with all my heart.

My mother presented it to me at I'd guess age 10 or 11. Probably it had been in our collection all along. I assumed it was from her own teen years, so in the 1910s. I never knew where my mother came by such things, she seemed to absorb offbeat, peculiar works through some etheric transfer.

Over the years, I remembered little of the plot – just two incidents so horrific that they hung on me like literary albatrosses.

Perhaps five years back, that haunting returned and I felt the need to find that book again – the original had disappeared into the mists of yesteryear. I bought a copy online – a mere $3.50 if I remember rightly – a ratty-spined hardback. I immediately determined not to read it. I couldn't face the possibility that it would be just another "young adult" monstrosity that had overwhelmed my feeble mind. That would be a gut stab.

But with Daniel Riccuito's strong-arm encouragement, looking for an "unusual" book from the '20s or ''30s – my pick – I immediately thought of Cursed Be the Treasure... but "uh-oh, wrong decade." Yet when I flipped back the creaky cover, I found the copyright was 1928. So I committed to reading it again, with dripping trepidation.

And...? It resonates with the "now" of me as solidly as with the "then" of me; it's left an unusual sense of wonder, a "how can the universe work this way?" that I pooh-pooh in daily life.

Before getting to that: Who was H. B. Drake?

I've found minimal online biographical info on Henry Burgess Drake, who had two (at least) parallel careers. Born of British missionary parents in China in 1894, the next to last of seven children, he served in WWI, then taught English in China, Korea (at a Japanese university) and England, sometimes alongside his younger brother, Eric – this bio snippet, an aside to a longer one of Eric, does not mention Henry's writing. During (or before?) WWII, Henry served in the British Intelligence Corps, "to recruit spies to penetrate Japanese held territory" in China.

Of his alternate existence, fantasy and SF sites note him mainly as author of The Shadowy Thing, which had a strong influence on H. P. Lovecraft. You can purchase a 1928 hardback edition online for $967; I don't plan to. Beyond that and Cursed, he penned a few sea and other adventure tales (sometimes as Burgess Drake), and a five-volume Approach to English Literature for Students Abroad during the '40s and '50s. He died in 1963.

I've had little truck with adventure stories. The Conan tales bore me silly – great gnarled nonsense. I recently downloaded a humongous boulder of public-domain fantasy/SF/adventure (many of them novel-length), looking for a simple, non-challenging read. The first four I staggered through were almost malignantly bad – cumbersome slagheaps of adjectives, mostly multi-page descriptions of otherworldly scenery, including, so help me, two travels through nothing – quite literally a void interrupted by different-colored lights. They showed less imagination than an addled exterminator.

It's turned out that what I was looking for in that muck, without knowing, was Cursed Be the Treasure, which harks back to lesser-known works such as R. L. Stevenson's The Wrecker, about a ship ("The Flying Scud") in which the adventure is as much inside the narrator as mired in convoluted events wavering beyond the written horizon. I think Drake also took inspiration from Dickens, especially Nell's wanderings through the countryside with her grandfather in The Old Curiosity Shop. (Though unlike Dickens with his often black and white characters, all of Drake's emanate shades of moral grey.)

The first-person narrator of Cursed is Tommy, recalling his youth from age 6 to roughly 17, consumed in continual flight with his father from the vengeance of what his father calls Shadow-of-Fear. During their flight, they are briefly "trapped" by a witch-like figure, Bite-in-the-Dark, whom Tommy kills by accident. Then the flight continues, because... who or what is Bite-in-the-Dark, and can the greater Shadow-of-Fear be killed?

Baldly stated, this can sound silly. But it's written with a riveting intensity of isolation and unfocused fear. His father will run forever to protect Tommy, but does not feel he can, himself, escape the inevitable. And there are also the magically bright summers at the Dolphin Inn, where Tommy investigates the caves and rock ledges of the coast, the supposed refuge of smugglers, uncovering secret passageways leading to... what?

Along the way, he and his father stop at a supposed haunted house. Tommy sees a ghost (does he?) and encounters a skeleton (he does).When his father must leave on for an extended period, Tommy goes to school for the first time – his father's extensive, intensive knowledge had been enough to meet his educational needs.

Tommy makes friends with Worthing, an older, rule-bound student (who faults Tommy's adventuresome ways). Tommy invites Worthing for a stay at the house, during which Tommy finds a hidden passage and loses it again. In a later stint at the house, he meets Captain Field and his daughter. She, like Tommy, is traveling alone with her father, and like his father, the Captain is haunted by an implacable enemy.

Why no mother for either of these near-bewitched children? The word "mother" never appears in this tale. For both, the single parent and the single child have always been thus.

From here on, I'll leave the plot alone, because it's the method of telling and the near-perfect pacing that make this book, in my mind, close to a masterpiece. Reliving it, retrieving the incidents I forgot through the years, was unlike any other literary experience I've had; 70 years between readings, and it holds the same searing chill. And those two remembered incidents that I did recall – I can't talk sanely about them. The second details perhaps the worst mistake any human being could make.

There's nothing overtly supernatural in the telling, but the possibility of it hangs like a torn curtain. As Tommy slowly uncovers clues, a more enmeshed tale emerges, tying together disparate elements –almost typing them together. Certain small details don't quite fit... but not because Drake is lax. It's because nothing here can be complete, wholly true or fully whole. A "definitive" through line would only cheapen the tale. The passageways by the Dolphin Inn lead to no found end; the lost treasure is truly cursed – through the intertwined vengeance of those who fought and killed for it, and the inescapable guilt with which each must live.

That's the book, as written. But its effect on me goes beyond the words. It reaches something in me as inescapable as Shadow-of-Fear, like a reflected study of my life. Not Tommy's flight – the entire tale. I have none of Tommy's robust, adventuresome spirit... at least not externally. But something of my mind works the way this story works, with the details incomplete, the compounded feeling of guilt, the need for everything to be different, released. It was somehow like I was reading myself.

But a few details....

The novel I've been working on for the past couple years (before I reread Cursed) encapsulates a woman in her early 30s:

raised by her father, from the ages of 4 to 16

haunted by the past and her eerie effects on the present

with no direct memory of her mother, though unlike Tommy, the not knowing torments her

her name is Jenny; Captain Field's daughter's name is Jenny

This litany of congruence rattles my innards.

Did those plot details from Cursed that I thought had been lost remain hidden in the far reaches of my mind?

I don't think so. On rereading, the early chapters seemed fully new to me.

Are there cosmic associations that exhibit when we least expect them, in the least likely ways?

I think that even less.

I see the world as a grand accumulation of circumstances, ruled by laws that we can never directly experience or untangle as they apply to the minute incidents of life. Sometimes these circumstances heap in symmetrical piles that can delight or terrify, as did the Dolphin Inn and Shadow-of-Fear for Tommy.

In my case, the dovetailing of this marvelous tale with driving events in my life is an overwhelming gift.

I refuse to question it.

by Derek Davis

[bookishable]

order of the phoenix book moments

“listening to the news! again?” “well, it changes every day, you see”

vernon: we’re not stupid harry: WeLL tHaT’s nEwS tO mE

“did he say you look like a pig that’s been taught to walk on its hind legs? ’cause that’s not cheek, dud, that’s true.”

“not this brave at night, are you?” “this is night, diddykins. that’s what we call it when it goes all dark like this.”

“what d’you mean, i’m not brave when i’m in bed? what am i supposed to be frightened of, pillows or something?”

“fought ’em off, did you, son? gave ’em the old one-two?” “you can’t give a dementor the old one-two”

tonks sending the dursleys a letter telling them they’d been short listed for the (non-existent) all-england best kept suburban lawn competition to keep them out the house so they could rescue harry

“snape’s on our side now” “doesn’t stop him being a git”

“dumbledore says he doesn’t care what they do as long as they don’t take him off the chocolate frog cards”

“kreacher lives to serve the noble house of black—” “and it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy”

arthur and kingsley’s fake chat at the ministry

“if you can get away before seven, molly’s making meatballs.”

‘a powerful emotion had risen in harry’s chest at the sight of dumbledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him.’

“you got our message that the time and place of the hearing had been changed?” “i must have missed it, however, due to a lucky mistake i arrived at the ministry three hours early”

“a prefect! that’s everyone in the family!” “what are fred and i, next-door neighbours?”

harry’s personal growth moment where he realises he is happy for ron being made prefect and beating him at something for the first time, and that harry isn’t any better than him

luna: you’re harry potter harry: i know i am

neville saying “i’m nobody” and ginny being like “no you’re not” ugh we stan this friendship

the quibbler’s article on whether sirius is a notorious mass murderer or innocent singing sensation

“i, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that i, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.” “yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.”

‘luna did not seem perturbed by ron’s rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.’

“i told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. and it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, harry, because in case you haven’t noticed, ron and i are on your side.”

“i dreamed i was playing quidditch the other night, what do you reckon that means?” “probably that you’re going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something”

“have a biscuit, potter.”

hermione knitting hats for the house-elves

“they didn’t look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.” hermione did not speak to him all morning.

harry and ron meeting each other in the hallway, both trying to hide something but failing, harry being excited that ron wants to join the quidditch team, and ron noticing harry’s injury and being horrified we love this friendship

“ron had been honest with him, so he told ron the truth”

harry’s excellent attempt at writing a letter to sirius without obscurely revealing anything in case it got intercepted

“if you want to ‘sever ties’ with me, i swear i won’t get violent.”

“yeah, quirrell was a great teacher, there was just that minor drawback of him having lord voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”

“i was just wondering, professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—” “obviously i received it, or i would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom” minerva strikes again

luna: the ministry’s got an army of heliopaths neville: an army of what luna: great flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everyth— hermione: they don’t exist, neville luna: oh yes they do

harry pretending to be ill so he could skip history of magic and find someone to help hedwig

“i can’t see any boils” “no, well, you wouldn’t, they’re not in a place we generally display to the public.” “but they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—”

“the DA’s good, only let’s make it stand for dumbledore’s army, because that’s the ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

hermione making the fake galleons and everyone being like what because it’s NEWT level magic

‘even fred had said that ron might yet make him and george proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.’

“hey, potty, i heard warrington’s sworn to knock you off your broom on saturday” “warrington’s aim’s so pathetic i’d be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me” god i love harry in this book

luna’s lion hat: “i wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent slytherin, you know, but there wasn’t time.”

dobby decorating the room of requirement with baubles of harry’s face saying ‘have a very harry christmas’

“ron, you are the most insensitive wart i have ever had the misfortune to meet.” it’s not true but it’s funny lmao

harry: next minute she’s crying all over me and i didn’t know what to do ron: don’t blame you, mate

‘that’s what they should teach us here, how girls’ brains work… it’d be more useful than divination, anyway…’

“i didn’t want anyone to talk to me” “well, that was a bit stupid of you, seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by you-know-who, and i can tell you how it feels.” “i forgot” “lucky you”

sirius singing ‘god rest ye, merry hippogriffs’

arthur using stitches on his snake bites and molly exploding “it sounds as though you’ve been trying to sew your skin back together… WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT’S THE GENERAL IDEA?”

harry trying to distract the others when he realises neville’s parents are in the same ward that they are in, so neville can leave unnoticed

harry being oblivious to the fact cho wants to go to hogsmeade with him for valentine’s day

“if we can’t trust dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

harry being oblivious (the sequel) and telling cho he was meeting hermione after their date, bless my son he’s trying his best

“why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?”

‘hermione was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest pair of drinking mates he could ever have imagined: luna lovegood and none other than rita skeeter, one of hermione’s least favourite people in the world.’

“cho? a girl?” “it’s none of your business if harry’s been with a hundred girls” this is my favourite version of hermione

“it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think i am, too,” hermione added as an afterthought. “but i don’t think you’re ugly”

“she’s been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren’t looking”

“if zacharias smith beats us i might have to kill myself.” “kill him, more like”

“hermione, you’re good on feelings and stuff, but you just don’t understand about quidditch.” “maybe not, but at least my happiness doesn’t depend on ron’s goalkeeping ability.”

‘out of respect for his feelings, harry waited a while before going up to the dormitory himself, so that ron could pretend to be asleep if he wanted to.’

dumbledore choosing firenze to teach divination knowing full well umbridge hated half-breeds

kingsley, dumbledore and mcgonagall’s genius way of saving the situation in dumbledore’s office after the DA meetings had been uncovered

“well, usually when a person shakes their head, they mean ‘no’. so unless miss edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans—”

“i have absolutely no intention of being sent to azkaban. i could break out, of course—but what a waste of time, and frankly, i can think of a whole host of things i would rather be doing.”

all the teachers pretending they couldn’t get rid of the fireworks to make umbridge run around the entire school to do so

“i could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but i wasn’t sure whether or not i had the authority.”

“give five signs that identify the werewolf. one: he’s sitting in my chair. two: he’s wearing my clothes. three: his name’s remus lupin.”

“the thing about growing up with fred and george, is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

“you’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle, good sense of when to duck, more like.”

“are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cough drop, dolores?”

“he has achieved high marks in all defence against the dark arts tests set by a competent teacher.”

“this boy has as much chance of becoming an auror as dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.” “a very good chance, then”

“she hated him!” “nah, she didn’t”

“your father was the best friend i ever had and he was a good person. a lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. he grew out of it.”

“give her hell from us, peeves.”

the catchphrase “one more lesson like that and i might just do a weasley” being a trend

‘umbridge-itis’

harry witnessed professor mcgonagall walking right past peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, “it unscrews the other way.”

WEASLEY IS OUR KING

the fifth and seventh years starting a black-market trade selling ‘brain stimulants’ for the exams

“i don’t care if my tea-leaves spell die, ron die—i’m just chucking them in the bin where they belong.”

‘even through his anger and impatience, harry recognised hermione’s offer to accompany him into umbridge’s office as a sign of solidarity and loyalty.’

ginny’s notorious bat bogey hex

“we were all in the DA together, it was all supposed to be about fighting you-know-who, wasn’t it? and this is the first chance we’ve had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?”

“you do care, you care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

“by all means continue destroying my possessions, i daresay i have too many.”

“in the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. it was your heart that saved you.”

‘sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark…’

flitwick leaving a patch of the swamp as a monument to fred and george, and because it was “a really good bit of magic”

“you’re dead, potter.” “funny, you’d think i’d have stopped walking around…”

mgonagall arriving back at hogwarts just as snape tries to take points from gryffindor like ‘no bitch, they can have 500 points instead for fighting death eaters’

‘professor mcgonagall was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after umbridge herself, because peeves had borrowed her walking stick.’

“i expect what you’re not aware of would fill several books, dursley”

“are you threatening me, sir?” “yes, i am,” said mad-eye, who seemed rather pleased that uncle vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

“do i look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?” “yes, i’d have to say you do” moody just ended this book with three straight burns

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Winter Fest Day One: Shiver

Wherein Wen Ning has some bad luck and then some good luck. 

(For those wondering who the heck Aidan is, he’s an OC from the LAHL ‘verse and when sleepingmao on twitter floated this pairing idea my way, it immediately took root and here we are now.)

Wen Ning took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart as he put his car into park. His hands were still shaking as he switched on his emergency lights. His sister was never going to let him hear the end of this once he called her. She had told him not to drive back to Lan Academy tonight, but the winter break was coming to an end, and he wanted to be home for a few days before diving back into teaching.

He’d lived in New England since he was five years old, but this was the first time he’d ever hit a patch of black ice and gone flying. It was sheer luck that he was able to swerve onto the grassy shoulder next to him rather than into the next lane. 

Of course, most people weren’t out on the road near Lenox at this time of night. 

That turned out to be both a blessing and a curse, when he tried to back up onto the road and heard his tires spinning without gaining any traction.

If Wen Ning was a cursing man, right now would be the time for it. Instead he turned off the car again, slipped out into the cold of the January night, and pulled out the flashlight he kept in the trunk to try and see the damage.

Of course, that’s when the small snow flurry from earlier decided to turn into an actual storm.

His sister was also going to yell at him for not having a proper winter coat or boots or gloves with him. 

He was digging through his trunk, desperate to find anything resembling gloves, when he saw headlights in his peripheral and a Ford Expedition pull up beside him.

“You need some help?” 

Wen Ning froze at that familiar, deep voice. Of all people to find him, like this, out here. Why did it have to be him. Aidan Delaney made him feel tongue-tied and foolish on a good day. And he had to see him right now? Like this? Out here? Really?

“Ning? Is that you?” 

Wen Ning cursed his bad luck as he stepped into the light coming from the Ford’s high beams.

“Hi, Aidan,” he said, resigned to his fate. “I hit some ice.”

“Where the hell is your coat?” Aidan asked. He immediately pulled off his own and wrapped it over Wen Ning’s arms. “And your gloves?”

“I didn’t foresee this happening,” Wen Ning said as he gestured to his car and the one patch of mud his tires had found on a mostly ice-frozen block of grass.

He tried not to be distracted by the spicy smell of Aidan's cologne coming from his coat. 

“No one ever does,” Aidan said with a sigh. “Come on,” he said, tugging Wen Ning towards his truck. “Get in and warm up. There’s hot chocolate there too. Help yourself.”

Aidan opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Hey, you three! Mind your manners! Mr. Wen’s going to sit with you for a bit.”

“Does he have his bow?”

That was Aisling, one of his star archers, and one of the best all-around students in her grade. She favored her privacy and spent a lot of time in the library. He was quite like her when he was younger.

“No--why would he--” Aidan shook his head. “Aisling, he doesn’t have his bow.”

He did, in fact, have his bow, but it didn’t seem like a good time to mention that.

“Can he help with this stupid history essay?”

Finn. Great fencer, great STEM student, lacking in the Liberal Arts.

“It’s not stupid, you are.”

Una. Dancer. The highest grades of them all.

“None of you are stupid and if you don’t watch it, I’ll turn this car right back around and take you all back to Ma’s. You want that?”

Silence from inside the truck.

“That’s what I thought,” Aidan said. His voice and face were kinder as he turned back to Wen Ning. “Up you go,” he said. 

Inside the truck was warm with blaring heat coming from the vents. It made Wen Ning’s fingers sting and tingle as feeling started to come back to them.

“You should drink the hot chocolate,” Aisling said. She pushed a pink, glittery travel mug at him. “We have two whole thermoses full.”

“Thank you, Miss Aisling,” he said.

She grinned at him they way she always did when he called her that. 

“Did you hit a ditch?” Finn asked.

“Duh, of course he did,” Una said.

“I hit a patch of ice,” he corrected her. “And then wound up in a ditch.”

“You’re okay though, right?” Aisling asked.

Wen Ning looked up from his mug to see three pairs of greenish-blue eyes staring at him in concern. 

“I’m fine,” he promised. He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Just a little cold.”

The Delaneys had come to the school last year. Their elder brother, Aidan, left his job working as a firefighter in Boston to work for the Lenox Central Fire and Emergency Department. All three of the kids were on scholarships and while it covered tuition and the like, it hadn’t covered room and board. So Aidan, determined to see his younger siblings achieve their academic dreams, had packed them all up, switched jobs, and moved them to the other side of the Commonwealth. 

It’s something Wen Qing had done for him, that sort of sacrifice for a younger sibling’s sake and future, and it had immediately endeared Aidan to him. Aidan never complained, always full of happiness and encouragement for his younger siblings. He was there for almost every fencing and archery match and dance recital, save the times when work called him away. He was active in their school community as well, and while Wen Ning knew some of his popularity came to how well Aidan filled out everything he wore, and those eyes, and that smile, it was more because he was a genuine and sincere person. He cared. He cared more than a lot of the parents and guardians who sent their students to Lan Academy. 

The door opened and Aidan smiled up at him, snow softly falling around him. Wen Ning forgot to breathe for a second.

“Good news or bad news first?” he asked.

“Good news,” he said. 

“Your car is out of the ditch,” Aidan said.

Wen Ning was confused. “And bad news?”

“The reason you were stuck is because one of your back tires hit something and it’s gone flat. So, get what you need, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You are not driving home in these conditions with that tire and it’ll take hours to get a tow out here in this weather. I would’ve changed the tire with your spare but someone doesn’t have one in their trunk.”

Wen Ning always knew that was going to come back to bite him.

“It’s on my to-do list,” he said.

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow,” Aidan said. “If you have the time.”

“I..” Wen Ning didn’t know what to say, except to accept. He really didn’t know much about car specs and tires. He hadn’t learned that when focused on and training for an Olympic dream. Aidan, on the other hand, came from a family of mechanics. It would be stupid to turn down his expert help. “Thank you,” he said. 

Aidan held his hand out. “Here, let me help you down.” 

Wen Ning wondered, had to wonder, if Aidan was this charming and nice to everyone. He assumed so even if part of him wished it was solely because of him. They’d had moments before, where Wen Ning had hoped there was more to the glances and the smiles. Swore he’d caught Aidan look at his form when he’d sat in on a few archery practices and had felt those eyes lingers on him. But Wen Ning had never been very good at the dating or the flirting or even the talking thing. 

He stumbled on the wet step board of the Expedition and would’ve hit the ground if Aidan hadn’t immediately reacted. He did hit the side of the truck hard, the breath whooshed out of him, with one of Aidan’s hands cradling the back of his head.

“Okay?” Aidan asked, once they both got over the shock. “You’re shaking.”

One of windows rolled down and three pre-teens stared out at them.

“So, can you two just kiss already?” Finn asked.

“We’re kind of hungry,” Una said.

“And you’re both going to get frostbite,” Aisling said. “This is why Mom told you to ask him out before winter break. Last year.”

Aidan closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You three--shut the fuck up and roll the damn window back up. You’re letting the heat out.”

“We’re not the ones flirting on the side of the--”

“Aisling Catherine Delaney.”

“Window’s going up now!”

Wen Ning couldn’t tell if the red tint on Aidan’s cheeks was just from the cold or a blush, but it made his eyes look even greener.

“So,” Aidan said drawing out the word. “That was fucking embarrassing.”

Wen Ning nodded. His feet were still off the ground. Aidan was still holding him up and apparently didn’t even notice. Wen Ning had kept mostly to his Olympic form since he did still compete in national competitions. He knew he wasn’t that light.

“Look--” Aidan said. “I curse like a sailor, I have horrible work hours, and I have to watch after those three ungrateful gremlins who are absolutely going to be eating boiled potatoes for dinner if they don’t close that window.”

The window went all the way back up.

“But I would really like to take you out for lunch or dinner or whatever--whatever you’d like--if you want.”

He did. He did very much want.

“Yes,” Wen Ning said. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I’d like that very much.”

“Okay,” Aidan said. He nodded. His eyes drifted to Wen Ning’s lips than back up to his face. “Okay.”

“Aidan?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You can kiss me if you want?”

“Fucking a, I do,” Aidan said.

It was a sweet kiss. Warm. And Wen Ning wished it could last longer, but the snow was coming down, his nose was starting to run, and they were on the side of the road.

They stopped as a passing trucker blew their horn at them.

“We should get you home,” Aidan said.

“You need to put me down first,” Wen Ning said. 

“Oh shit!” Aidan said as he lowered him to the ground. “I’m sorry. I just--”

“It’s okay,” Wen Ning said. He didn’t mind. At all. “It’s nice.”

“That’s--” Aidan laughed and stepped to the side. “I’ll remember that.”

**********

“You’re late.”

Wen Qing stared at him through the computer screen, one judgy eyebrow raised. 

“I texted,” he said as he settled down with a cup of warm tea.

“Yes, but you are very late,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “My car hit a patch of ice, wound up in a ditch, and I have a flat.”

“You had to wait for a tow?” she asked. “Because you never replaced the spare.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “Aidan found me.”

“Aidan,” she said. Her tone implying far too many things.

“Hot firefighter Aidan?” Qingyang asked, leaning over his sister’s shoulder. “Respect, Ning. He’s hot as hell.”

“I am right here,” his sister said, as she stared up at her girlfriend.

“Yeah but, he’s fine,” Qingyang said. “And nice.” She kissed the top of Qing’s head. “Don’t worry, he’s a good guy. An actual good one. Not an asshole.”

“He is,” Wen Ning promised. “And he asked me why I didn’t have a spare replacement tire, or decent winter gloves, or a coat.” He said, appealing to his sister’s sense of priorities.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, he sounds like he has some common sense. I’ll allow it.”

“So generous of you,” Qingyang said. She waved at him. “So, did he ask you out?”

Wen Ning nodded, unable to stop the grin on his face.

“Aww, you’re all grown up and getting ready to tap some firefighter ass!” she said.

“Qingyang!” 

Wen Ning put his tea down as he openly laughed at his sister and soon-to-be-sister-in-law. He missed them horribly now that he was so far away, but he loved coaching and teaching, he truly did love his work at Lan Academy. And maybe, just maybe, he was really starting to find his own place--his own home. 

Maybe he could have that soon, what he saw on the other side of the screen.

Tomorrow was the start of something. He hoped, he prayed, it was something good. 

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You Chapter 1

Summary - Danielle Hughes is an Irish paramedic that lives next to Diana Hiddleston in Suffolk, the mother of the famous actor Tom Hiddleston. She is a close friend of the family; and having known them before Tom's great leap into the international fame, she befriended him. But when he starts dating Taylor Swift, the actor's ties to his family and his friends are strained as no one is too happy with his choice in girlfriend, and Danielle bears the brunt of Tom's anger. But after five years of knowing the real, flawed Tom and not just the pristine public image of the actor, she has fallen for him, against her better judgement. When everything explodes, what is left? What damage has been done, and can everything be repaired; or is everything destroyed?

Rating - Mature

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly. 

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know. 

There was one clear reason why Tom had done what he did; loneliness.

The fact was that comments here and there and texts, and questions if anyone actually took the time to notice, the question that everyone thought, that those close to him were terrified to ask was as blatant as the nose on his face the reason he had chosen to do what he did.

Chris H - Can't wait to see you in my neck of the woods mate, sadly with a wife and three kids, though, it won't be like the first two and Avengers you know.

Emma - I can't believe it, I actually got married before thirty, I officially broke one of my own rules. But no, no kids anytime in the next year at least, I have the play coming up at Christmas, didn't I tell you, you're not the only member of the family to Shakespeare it up in London now Big Brother.

Sarah - I can't just drop things to go to the US like some of the others at work, I have a kid, they don't seem to understand that, Tom, you get, well no, not get it, you don't have any kids or partner to worry about, but you understand.

Luke - Sorry, I can't go on the SDCC tour with you, Emma Watson is getting a Time magazine cover, I have to make sure that is sorted. I'll send Bethany from the NY firm; she's well able for it.

Benedict - It's a pity you are only in town for the weekend man, I can't meet up tomorrow, the weather is too good, Sophie and I arranged to bring Christopher to the zoo for the first time, and honestly I cannot wait!

Aunt Jennifer - And Emma is six years younger than you and she is married, when are we getting a big flashy Hollywood wedding from you, Tom? Is there not a single woman in all of Hollywood for you to snatch up?

It all just added up, and after over three years of just on-set flings and rendezvous with old colleagues, Tom just wanted something that was borderline normal, a woman to come home to, to actually listen to him, to just be there, even when filming was hectic. And that is when he met Taylor. She had been going through a rough patch with Calvin, or Adam, or whatever name he was going by. Tom didn't know him; he only knew he was a Scot, so he couldn't be all bad. They had gotten over the honeymoon stage of the relationship and, from what he could gather, a mixture of too much time together one month, and not seeing each other the next, and other such things meant she was out of love with Harris, and wanting something new and fresh. She was pretty, tall, and did not want a guy to foot her lifestyle, so in all, she was everything he could ask for, right?

"Mum?" He looked around the door into the hallway of his mother's home. Tom loved escaping the hustle-bustle of busy London and hiding at his mother’s for a few days when time permitted. He was only going to be in England for few days, so he thought it best to spend it with her. He would have to make a quick trip to London to get what he needed for his next bout of world touring, which was not ideal, but what could he do. "Mum, you in here or next door?"

"Tom, is that you?" Diana came out of the kitchen, her hands coated in suds and a ridiculously frilly apron on.

"Eh, Mum, what are you wearing?" Tom chuckled as he put down his bag and went over to embrace his mother.

"The girls thought it would be funny to get, and to be honest, for the job it is doing, it is fine." She dismissed, allowing her far taller son to embrace her. "Are you alone?" She looked around.

"Yes, Taylor..."

"Oh good dear, how was your flight?" Diana cut straight across him, causing Tom to frown slightly, but he answered her nonetheless.

"Flight was fine, yeah. It takes some getting used to after a private jet."

"I dare say so, tea?"

"Yeah, thanks." Tom looked at his mother, trying to figure out why she was acting so abrupt. "Is that some of Elle's Irish Fruit Cake?"

"She baked a fresh batch last night and made sure there was some for your coming home today. Why didn't you get her to pick you up at the airport, you used always give her a text?"

"Well, with the way things are now..."

"Right." Diana's demeanour turned cold once more.

"I need to go to London tomorrow, I have to swap around a few books and get that suit and whatnot from my place." Tom tried to turn the conversation around again.

"Done, it's all upstairs in your room."

"What?"

"It's done, Elle did it during the weekend, she was going to London for a training day, so she took her car and got what you needed so you could rest up before you go, where did you say you were off to next?"

"Rhode Island, back to..."

"You had better thank Elle before you go." Diana gave a curt smile.

"Sure." Tom frowned. "Yeah, that was nice of her."

"That is Elle; she would do anything for those she cares for, even when it is not reciprocated."

"What...?" Tom gave a befuddled look at his mother.

"Eat your cake." His mother instructed. "You should probably take a nap and a shower too."

"Yes, Mum," Tom replied. "Is Emma or Sarah coming?"

"No, they are busy."

"But Emma said she might."

"Well she did not want to get caught up in any...she is busy."

Tom chewed the inside of his cheeks, he realised what was going on. His sister was an actress, his mother had run theatres for years, and together, they had feigned delight at his previous trip home. "Mum..."

"I need to go speak with Sarah on the phone; I'll tell her that you say hi."

"Yeah, thanks." He downed the rest of his tea and rose from the chair. "I better clean these." He indicated to the dishes. His mother simply nodded and walked out of the room.

Taking the plates and cups to the kitchen, he placed them on the side of the sink and turned on the hot water faucet waiting for it to heat up. He sighed to himself and rubbed his hands over his face before going up to his hair, noting that like before, it took slightly longer to reach the auburn strands, assessing his mother’s demeanour.

"Hey Diana, I got those carrots you like from the farmer's market and I forgot to mention that I stocked Tom's freezer with home cooking when I was at his place, so you can tell him when he comes that it..." Elle stood staring at Tom, only realising after a few moments it was him and not his mother standing in the kitchen. "Hey." There was sadness to her tone, as though she was not as pleased to see him as she usually was. "Hi."

"Hey."

"Your mum said you weren't due til tonight." She put down the shopping in her hands on the island in the kitchen.

"No, it was this afternoon, I got a cab."

"Right." She nodded slightly, "Anyway, tell her I called and there are her carrots." She pointed to the vegetables. "Bye."

"Thank you." She looked back at him as she went to open the door. "For getting all that stuff from London."

"Well I was only guessing with the books, I took from a pile I know you had not read a few months ago, I am not sure if you got to them since." She gave a pathetic attempt of a smile, something Tom caught.

"Danielle."

"I should get going." She turned and left without another word, leaving Tom looking at the closed door.

"When Elle comes, call me, she has something important she has wanted to tell me apparently," Diana called from the living room, having gone back in there when she had finished her call to her daughter.

"She came in there a moment ago mum, she dropped off some carrots and left."

Diana came into the room, looking at him. "What?"

"She was just here, saying about farmer market carrots; then she left." Tom pointed to the carrots on the island.

"What did you say to her? She has been going on about coming over and telling me her news"

"Nothing, I said hi and thank you for all she did going to my place and that and she just left. She was acting weird; like she didn’t want to be here."

"There is reason for that," Diana replied. "I am going over to hers, I won't be long." She declared, taking off her apron and walking out the door.

Tom sighed again, looking around the room, which was empty. He was hoping to spend his time home with his mum, and maybe his sisters and even his mother’s friendly and down to earth neighbour. But clearly, that was something he wished for, but no one else did. He checked his phone to see there was no missed calls or texts, so he decided to go to his room and sort everything needed for the next few weeks.

[amnachil]

To the Perfection Chapter 1 Part 2

I’m very stupid :o I totally forgot to post the next part !! I’m sorry :( I hope you’ll like it anyway

Thomas Monday January 7

The last week of the holiday went and ended like a blur. Monday came. The end of the holidays. Thomas wasn't particulary sad about it. After all, he mostly stayed at home where he played video games. Of course, he had a very organized schedule for his training too. But well, he didn't want to be back at school either. He hadn't any difficulties and he had already studied more than enough. It was more a social problem. It would be false to say he didn't have friends, only they weren't real friends. They do like me. Because I'm smart, good-looking and Raphaël's brother. Nonetheless, he wasn't sure a single one of them knew his favorite game or his favorite movie. In the end, they liked his reputation more than anything else.

"Hi Thomas." greeted Ilhan. "You look good today."

"Thanks." smiled the ginger lad.

You don't even ask me how I am doing anymore, uh ? He had met Ilhan during last year, when this one moved in town from the south. At first, the newcomer was acting more friendly, more kind with Thomas. Now I guess he thinks someone like me can only be fine. They all think that way.

"I saw your brother on TV last week." continued his classmate, far away his thoughts. "He's so awesome. You're so lucky to be related."

Really ? Thomas liked his big brother, yes, but it was sometimes hard to live in his shadow. He had always tried to be nicer, kinder, and now he thought about it, it probably explained his whole personality. Anyway, Raphaël was still far better in everything. Even in love...

"Hey guys." intervened Cody.

Thomas barely looked at him. He joined his class, letting his mind ramble.

At noon, the young lad escorted some of his friends to the local Mcdo. According to them, it was to celebrate the end of the holidays. Most of them were soccer players, just like him. They were hanging together for years, but none of them knew how much he hated burgers. They just don't care at all. Once in the restaurant, Thomas quickly found a table and took a sit. He looked around, bored. The flavor made him sick. A new year eh... It started like the last. Well, except for Dan who was moving in. Only the idea of this made him shiver with pleasure. The two of us, alone at home... Around him, his friends were coming with their order, but he ignored their waffles. He looked foward to be wednesday, when his mother would leave. (Of course he was sad about her departure, but better watch the good side of it, right ?).

"Thomy, what do you think ?"

The ginger turned towards his friends, surprised to hear his name. They were all waiting for an answer to the question he didn't listen.

"Cody and Ilhan are convinced the little Ulrich will be the next captain of the team once we graduate." resumed his third fellow, Joël. "I say otherwise, he's too cocky, don't you think ?"

"Man, you're hella cocky and you're the supporting striker." retorted Ilhan.

The other smirked. He was tall (around 184 cm or 6'1") and definitely ripped. Joël was Thomas's partner for work out, so this explained that. Well, it's true he's arrogant.

"Still, little Ulrich is just... unfit for the role." he stated.

A waiter went to refill Cody's glass with coke. Thomas recognized an old friend of Raphaël, Sam. Back in highschool, he was an awful jock, a bit like Joël. But with my brother's control, he became what he truly wanted to be. A kinda fat young adult. At least, his personnality had softened along his body. The young teenager greeted him with a nod, and then focused bad on his friend's conversation. They were still arguing about this nonsense.

"Guys, it doesn't matter right now." he smiled. "We have to focus on our games until graduation, okay ?"

They all agreed. What a bunch of boot-lickers.

This evening, when Thomas arrived at home, his mother was waiting for him. She wanted to talk. The ginger smiled cheerfully and sat on the couch. Another unecessary discussion... He loved her, but as the others, she didn't know him very well. She always said he was "as perfect as Raphaël." Why people couldn't see past their resemblance ?

"I'm leaving in two days now..." she started. "I wanted to be sure you're okay with that ? I know this isn't what we planned, but your father and I think you're very capable..."

He could guess the rest. Like my brother, right ?

"...Like your brother. Anyway, tell me what do you think ?"

You won't like what I think. Hey mom, I'm totally gay and you will literally let me alone with my crush for almost five years. I hate your new shoes, by the way.

"Everything gonna be fine." he assured kindly. "I already know how to survive on my own, and Dan will be there with me. I know you miss dad, and I know you two want to be together as fast as possible."

His mother sighed, reassured. She was so predictable. Raphaël and him were free to do whatever they wanted for years now, since they knew how to manipulate her.

"I'll cook diner." he decided.

After all, he couldn't wait to see Dan eating his food.

Dan Wednesday January 9

"Looks like we got everything. I'm sure you'll feel like home quickly."

Dan smiled to Raphaël's mother. He had always be welcome in their house, it wouldn't be much of a change to move in. He looked at his "new" environment. His boyfriend had a wide bedroom, with a lot of full bookcases. Some old clothes were lying around. A portrait of them during Raphaël's departure party caught his attention. We're together for one year and more than seven months now. As long as he remembered, he had always been friend with Raphaël. When he had done his coming out, the soccer's genius had asked for a date. I was so surprised, back then. I would have never guessed he was on the same side.

"I know this is a selfish request." said suddenly Mrs. Muller. "But I really hope you'll watch over Thomas. He's so grown-up, it worries me sometimes. I mean, he's completely capable but... He's not even 17 yet."

"It's normal to be stressed but I'll be there all the time. I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. It was easy to reassure her apparently.

"I hope he will relax a little, he looks so tensed..." she whispered. "Thomas is always taking things too seriously. He should learn some tips from Raphaël."

Dan made a face, a bit skeptical. Raphaël's definition of fun is very personal, to my humble opinion. Make the man genuinely smile was very hard, not to mention laugh.

"They must be waiting for us." Mrs. Muller stated. "Let's go."

All the family went to the bus station. She was going to New York, and then she would take a plane to England. A long trip, but she seemed almost glad to do it.

"My boys. You're both amazing, you know that ?" she said as a goodbye. "I love you. I'm really proud of you."

Thomas nodded silently. Raphaël did nothing but stare at her. I can only imagine how bizarre it must have been to educate these two...

"Raphaël, I'm sure you'll shine as the best center foward of our country." she smiled. "Also, I know you're still hesitating, but you should start this career in modelling. You're so handsome."

He didn't answer at all. Dan knew he wasn't approving this. He saw the little tautness of his jaw, the almost invisible twicthing of his fingers. And his eyes. They were so emotionless. He's too polite to say anything, but he's far from convinced.

"And you my dear Thomas." Mrs. Muller continued, far away these considerations. "You'll be as good as your brother, I'm sure of it. Try to have some fun okay ?"

He did his warmest smile.

"Of course mom. I love you too."

It was a different way to express his feelings, but it was just as much significant. He's also disappointed. But he'll not say it either. In this family, they weren't saying much. You had to read between the lines, to guess what they were thinking. An exercise Dan started to get used too. Anyway, their mother left after a last good bye. And they went back home.

This evening, probably to distract himself from his mother's departure, Thomas cooked another feast. According to Raphaël, he was always cooking a lot when he was troubled. Much for Dan pleasure, he was the one taking advantage of it. And boy, he cooks so well. Apparently, Thomas wasn't interested in a culinary's career, but he was so gifted for it.

"You enjoyed yourself." whispered Dan's boyfriend while stroking his distended stomach.

His rubs caused a slight series of belch. They were comfortably lying on their bed after this succulent diner.

"I can't resist a good meal." confessed the junior. "You know I have zero control over my eatings habits."

"Yeah, I noticed." chuckled Raphaël.

Slowly, he kissed his boyfriend with passion. I love him so much. People always said Raphaël was insensitive, but that was so not true. The ginger lad smoothly rolled over Dan and kissed him again.

"If Thomas doesn't stop, you will end up fat again. And I'm pretty sure he won't stop."

As he spoke, he fondled Dan's chest and belly. His touch was sensual, enjoyable. It feels so nice. Raphaël was more than appealing, and the junior was already getting aroused.

"I don't care about that." he replied. "Do you ?"

"Absolutely not."

Dan's hands found a way to Raphaël's ass. A firm and solid ass. His boyfriend unclothed them. Oh boy. I'm gonna love this night.

Raphaël left early in the morning, around 6 a.m. He would be gone for almost two weeks, until saturday 19th. Dan escorted him to his bus. It wasn't the first time they were separated for a long time, but it always felt bad. I miss him each time. But they would manage, they always did.

"I'll call you once I'm there." assured Raphaël. "And I'll relay my schedule to you."

"Sure thing."

Dan hugged him firmly. I want to have you a bit more.

"You'll look over Thomas, right ? I know he's acting weird since this case with Liam last year... I think he's more disturbed by this stuff than he pretends to be."

"You worry too much honey." reassured him Dan. "But I swear I'll take care of him."

It's only the third time you and your mother ask me to do it after all. The bus left five minutes later. The junior looked his boyfriend go away for a moment, gloomy. Then, he headed back home. Much to his surprise, Thomas was already awake. And he had made breakfast. A big breakfast. Well, what is the more worrying right now is how much weight I'll put on in only two weeks ?

To be continued

The setting is now finished. Let’s see if Thomas will be able to resist his desire with his crush... Especially when Dan has no problem with the feeding part at all ;)