#they can’t talk about the will without confirming they’re in love your honour
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do i hate to see eddie get hurt? of course. do i need him to almost die again so we get buck breaking down, feelings realisation and the will brought up again? absolutely
#they can’t talk about the will without confirming they’re in love your honour#also chris being in texas while eddie’s in the hospital….#i need that angst rn#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie#911 abc
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The Snake and The Wolf
Prologue - High Lord
I wanted to say something to explain why I choose this POV and make up some kind of excuse as to why I choose to start this story like this but honestly, I just hope you have the patience to read the next chapters and understand the vision I had for @erisweek2023
Chapter 1
Words: 1.136
“Valkyries?” asked Feyre from across the dining table in the river house, fork half-raised to her lips. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Cassian confirmed, tasting the red wine served for dinner. He’d returned to the manor to discuss what to do with the weapons made by Nesta and learn what his High Lady’s vote about them would be. Although Rhysand was against it, she hadn’t hesitated before saying that her sister deserved to be informed of her ability and even volunteered to do so, but the General stepped in, saying he’d rather do it himself in due time. The only one who hadn’t voted was Mor, who remained in Vallahan to keep coaxing its rulers to sign the new treaty, her absence marked by a place of honour set for her at the table.
“We never heard of them in the human lands,” Elain said. She’d been as riveted as Feyre to hear Cassian’s story about the female fighters that sparked Nesta’s interest, and all in all she believed she would be at ease among such fearsome creatures.
“Some were as lovely as you, at least from the outside,” recalled Rhysand from beside his wife. “But once they set foot into the arena they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.”
The little female lifted her glass in salute: “I liked them. They never let a male boss them around, though I could’ve done without their foolish king. He’s to blame for their deaths as much as the Illyrians who walked away during the battle.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Cassian said, and the light in his eyes dimmed, showing how long it took him to get over what happened. Maybe he had a lover within their ranks, it was easy to picture the Lord of Bloodshed falling for someone so brave and reckless, but Nesta wasn’t really like that. For years Elain though she was born on the wrong side of the Wall, but she was the kind of person who turned ballrooms into battlefields, not the one who plotted to claim as many victims as possible. For Nesta, people were just pawns and social events a chessboard begging her to play.
“And you were afraid of being rusty?” said a voice in Elain’s head, a voice that didn’t belong to the convivial scene in front of her but which soon had a face and a name to connect it to. “You’re a wolf in disguise.”
“Eris, dear, I may be getting older but age hadn’t yet affected my ability to remember names and hold grudges,” Nesta joked, the relaxed expression of someone at ease with her interlocutor. Her hair were longer but still braided in her usual fashion, a golden tiara adorned with topaz and Citrine quartz sitting on top of her head, perfectly matched with a sumptuous pair of earrings that made the dangling gemstones look like droplets of blood.
“We should thank the puppeteer instead of wasting our time with the other High Lord’s retinues,” he suggested, reaching towards the wooden throne beside him. “No amount of nannies would’ve sufficed to distract Lethe and Limos long enough for us to finish if he didn’t show up with all those characters.”
“I just hope he memorized his fair share of legends, because they’re going to pester him from here to the Day Court,” Nesta replied, her eyes so full of love that Elain undoubtedly knew she was talking about her own children.
“Do you think it’s wise to make them go on such a long journey?” Eris asked, his voice so low that Elain almost struggled to understand. He seemed worried, just like a father who wants to give space to his offspring but can’t put his preoccupations aside.
“Don’t underestimate how scary your mother can be. Besides, Elain and Lucien will always be with them,” Nesta reminded him before straightening her back again to address yet another meaningless stranger. The throne room of the Forest House was bustling with people, still more small groups of guests passed through the tall wooden doors to exchange a few words with the royal couple.
“High Lord,” a Peregryn greeted, bowing just enough to follow etiquette. “Wonderful ceremony, if I may say so.”
“I couldn’t have done even half of what you see if it weren’t for my Mate,” replied the eldest Vanserra, the sharp smile on his angular face suggesting that the Fae of the Dawn Court should’ve also paid his respects to his wife before anything else.
“Lady Death, your impeccable taste is renowned even in our villages,” the male added, turning his piercing eyes towards Nesta, who giggled at the nickname.
“I love it when people call me that,” she said to her Mate, thus dismissing the cause of their interruption.
“Well deserved,” he murmured, bringing one of Nesta’s slander hands to his lips to give her a light kiss.”And I grow gladder of it with every passing day.”
“Could you two wait until you’re in a more private place? I already struggle to get used to the idea of having a brother, but seeing him kiss my best friend is a whole other level of mental gymnastics,” said a beautiful female, her eyes as blue as the Sidra’s water. Her hair were the same shade of red as Eris’s but she wasn’t a High Fae, probably some half wilder being like Nuala and Cerridwen.
“I can’t believe you made it here in time!” Nesta exclaimed, ignoring any semblance of appropriateness at the sight of the priestess.
“My studies are important, but never as much as the wedding of a family member,” joked the other, stepping aside just enough to study Nesta’s immaculate outfit. The deep orange brocade was more revealing than anything Elain ever saw her wear, and although the sheer sleeves and the deep neckline of the gown showed off her shoulders and cleavage, it wasn’t vulgar but ft for her role.
“No luck with Azriel?” she asked, scanning the room half hopeful. The female shook her head, a delicate hand instinctively running to her neck, where a beautiful pendant Elain knew too well rested in the niche between her protruding collarbones. As if Eris sensed the disappointment in his Mate’s gaze, he approached, silent and graceful, to offer words of comfort.
“Maybe next time,” he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, leaning on his shoulder, as if seeking for support.
Elain’s eyes brought the present back into focus, where Azriel was studying her every move. Beside the Spymaster, no one else seemed to have noticed her sudden silence, Rhys, Feyre and Amren distracted by a new topic and Cassian lost in his thoughts. Elain pitied him: it didn’t matter how much Nesta bit, bruised or scratched him in the bedroom, she just wasn’t his. She belonged to someone else, like Elain belonged to Lucien.
#erisweek2023#eris vanserra#nesta archeron#elain archeron#azriel shadowsinger#cassian#feyre archeron#amren#gwyneth berdara#rhysand#neris#gwynriel#elucien
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Can you talk about how happy spencer would be when he notices reader made him a space in her drawer without him asking? I just know he would be so excited about it and I'm 🥺
i don’t know whether you meant in the workplace or at home so i went with at home cause im a SUCKER for domesticity
he finds it on a lazy sunday, when the sun is bright but not sizzling and neither of you changes out of your pyjamas the whole day. his glasses are perched on his nose and he keeps yawning, hair ruffled to all hell and slippers that he mistakenly put on that are definitely yours cramping his feet. he’s in love. with the day and the world and you.
you appear from your bedroom a few minutes later, just as he’s poured coffee into your favourite cup and his new favourite cup - one you bought for him after shopping with penelope. he wanted to take it home but- on second thought, he could use the mug as an excuse to visit you and stay with you and that sounds much, much better.
you sit next to one another on the couch, drinking coffee and doing the newspaper puzzles together. it’s your favourite old person activity to do together - you curl up next to him, head perched on his shoulder as he scribbles and fills in the answers, playfully fighting with you over who gets the honour of putting in the very last letter of the crossword.
he’s just writing cockatoo when the pen fizzles out, and before he even fully registers it you’re in the kitchen, opening a drawer he’s never seen you use before and coming back with a new pen.
which would be nothing, no big deal, if it wasn’t his favourite type of pen from his favourite company in his preferred colour. they’re not cheap, and to a lot of people not worth it.
“that’s a good pen choice,” he says, warming at the smile you give him when you wrap around him again.
“why thank you.”
and he thinks nothing of it, until later when he’s making you both tea and he can’t help himself - while the water is boiling he opens the drawer you got the pen from earlier and it’s like he’s looking at all the ingredients you’d need to summon your very own spencer reid.
sugar packets, pens, instant coffee, contact lense solution, even a microfibre cloth to clean his glasses. hell, there’s a ray bradbury book lying there, and a bookmark with a nikola tesla quote on it.
all his favourite things in one drawer.
he looks up, sees you on the couch mindlessly flipping through the finished newspaper. you’re blissfully unaware of what he’s discovered, unaware that his eyes are stinging and unaware that his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.
unaware that he’s just confirmed, irrevocably, that you are his person.
he skitters over in a hurry, plopping the cups on the coffee table and tackling you onto your back before you can even think about picking up your cup. you let out an oof but accept the love nonetheless, arms wrapping around his shoulders while he places chaste kisses on your neck. he hugs you so tightly, unable to put into words how happy he is, and you let out a confused laugh at it all.
“i have my own drawer?” he asks quietly.
“oh,” you realise, “you found that? it’s my little ‘spencer kit’.”
“’spencer kit’?”
“yeah. all the stuff you use the most.”
he pulls his head away from it’s hiding place; you brush his hair away from his eyes, happy lines surrounding them, and sigh happily when his forehead rests against yours.
“that’s really cool,” he sniffles.
“cool, huh?”
“yeah, cool. i say that now.” his nose brushes yours. “thank you.”
it’s a simple sunday, really, but it’s the first time spencer really feels he’s found where he belongs - hot drinks next to a newspaper with all the puzzles complete, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with in his arms, and a whole lot of love in his chest. it’s a simple sunday, really, but he hopes it’s his forever.
#headcanons#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid blurb#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x y/n#ask#mine#i liked this! then i didn’t
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Maybe Baby Retreat
➜ Words: 12.7k
➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut
➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.
[Day One] Taehyung should be fucking you. It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus. The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it. Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you. “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.” “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.” “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar. You suppose it was your fault to begin with. All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive. The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind. “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?” It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere. “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!” There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs. The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter. Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed. “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old. “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword. You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort. “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!” You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you. “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.” He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.” Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!” There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel. Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.” She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs. Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!” “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.” It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims. “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.” The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt. “Not too bad, right?” Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt. “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.” “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?” “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.” But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch. And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?” You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.” “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.” You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.” You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand. “Is that...even sanitary?!” You can’t imagine how many people have used it. “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.” “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.” Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?” “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.” Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here. “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well. When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate. “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period. “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another. “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.” “Damn straight.” The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.” You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?” “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.” She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs. Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.” “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.” “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.” “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.” Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.” It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night. The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious. It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide. “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!” Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.” “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks. After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet. It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling. The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it. Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?” “Mhmh...” You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket. “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?” “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?” “About half an hour?” Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth. “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.” You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush. In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember. And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband. Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?” “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.” He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.” You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.” A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.” “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.” “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.” After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.
[Day Two] Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows. “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting. “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.” “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.” “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—” “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him. It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible. Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics. “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!” “Don’t you trust me?” You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?” The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do. There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses. You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun. Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.” You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions. “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.” “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been. But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too. “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.” What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard. “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.” You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy. “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.” Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.” You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt. The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times. “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo. “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?” “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?” Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.” “We’re going on a hike?!” “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation. The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join. Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline. No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group. Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?” “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are. “I can carry you if you want.” “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs. You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac. “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again. “Isn’t this better?” “Aren’t you tired?” “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall. There, you’re finally on set on your feet again. You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.” He grins and downs it. Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts. “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient. “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.” “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.” “I can take it for you.” “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing. A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?” Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.” She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.” Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.” The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?” “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.” It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish. “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.” Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?” You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.” “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone. “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.” His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.” “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents. “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.” Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.” She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.” “T-two weeks?” you sputter. Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.” Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman. It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood. “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.” “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.” Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.” “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously. Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?” “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.” She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…” But his voice drowns out. You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you. The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt. “What’s wrong?” You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?” “You’ve just been quiet.” “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?” His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?” “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.” “That’s not true.” “We forget to buy food all the time.” “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins. You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.” “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.” “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.” You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.” “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.” “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile. Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.” You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it. It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.” It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub. “Is it warm?” Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled. “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?” “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink. “What are you doing?” “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties. After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver. “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!” Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and— “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac. “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?” “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.” You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?” “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air. You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude. You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge. Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek. “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder. He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.” “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule. “Let them hear.” He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness. Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try. Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.” “Yeah, and I know you like it.” He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach. “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?” “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.” “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control. The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist. Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?” You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it. “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.” “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.” A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices. “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.” “What?” “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed. He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?” “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.” “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.” “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.” “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff. Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance. You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully. “How was it?” “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder. “No.” “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.” “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?” “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.” You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg. Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?” “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.” “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?” “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room. Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles. With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction. “Okay. Ready?” “Uh-huh.” The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.” “Now what?” “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble. “T-Taehyung!” “Good?” “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote. He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.” Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard. It clatters to the ground. “Oh shit.” “Taehyung!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.” He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma. You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy. The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons. “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.” “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.” Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.” He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat. He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.” “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck. “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.” It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing. He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm. “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.” He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.” Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.
[Day Three] There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all. “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil. “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table. Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you. You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do. But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!” You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.” Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?” Taehyung grins. “Probably.” “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?” “Sure.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself. It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you. Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot. But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge. “Remember Bali?” “When you lost your passport?” “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.” “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.” He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.” You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?” “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?” You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.” “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.” “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?” “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.” “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?” None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.” “You and I both know that’s not true.” “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water. There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view— “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has. “What?” “Wanna take a dip?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?” “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does. “God, it’s so cold!” The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping — something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you. “It’s freezing, Taehyung!” “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?” You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.” “Why?” “You know I can’t swim.” His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.” Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.” “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.” “You only like me?” “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.” Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff. You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore. “Who would?” “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.” “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you. The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds. “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat. After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again. You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock. He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.
[Day Four] Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before. He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone. But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you. Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls. “Morning.” You sheepishly grin. “Morning.” “What time did you get up?” “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.” “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun. The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over. “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.” But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering. Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin. “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.” He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile. As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy. // The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks. “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…” “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.” What. Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.” “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice. “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.” “What were you talking about?” “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.” “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.” “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.” You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.” The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.” As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah. It was nice.” Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly. As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.” “Second...partner?” “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.” “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away. “Do you want an open relationship too?” “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.” He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?” “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?” “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.” Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife. “Are you jealous?” “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.” “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins. “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.” // Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner. “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.” You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—” “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.” You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.” Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.” “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?” It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees. The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off. But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists. You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too. He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round. You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.
[Day Five] The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.” “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.” “Yes, I really loved it.” “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.” You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures. “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.” “So soon?” Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands. Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes. Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats. “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.” He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours. The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.
[Epilogue] This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous. “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes. “Are you divorcing me?” “No.” “Did you lose your job?” “No.” His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.” “Yea— wait. What?” Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?” He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion. “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.” He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks. It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face. “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs. “I sure am.” He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?” You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.” He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement. “We can always go back for the next kid.” “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.” “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile. You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.
#bts fanfic#bts scenario#taehyung fanfic#taehyung smut#bts smut#taehyung fluff#FINALLY i can use the smut tag again looooool#BTS TAEHYUNG AS A SWEET GUY WHO'S NOT AS SWEET IN THE SHEETS#AND OC AS A GRUMBLING SIMP FOR HER HUSBAND
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the friendships between the five girls in murder most unladylike are really important and here's why
this will contain SPOILERS for all nine books in the mmu series, so read at your own risk
*cracks knuckles* i don't actually crack my knuckles, but this is probably gonna be long, so settle in
ever since once upon a crime came out i've been back on my mmu bullshit, and i was thinking about how good and important the friendships between daisy, hazel, kitty, beanie and lavinia are, and how much they all support each other, which is so important. here's why
kitty: i'm starting with kitty, because out of all of them, she has the most solid support unit in her family. she has a nice middle class life, with a nice family. her parents also seem to have a pretty solid and healthy relationship (in top marks for murder, we find out her mother is pregnant, and given that kitty and her sister are already in their teens, this indicates that their parents have a pretty healthy sexual relationship; obviously pregnancy can happen easy, but i hope you get the point). anyway. in jolly foul play, kitty's younger sister "runs away", which kitty is worried about given that her sister had been involving herself in the fallout of the murder and the gossip about the older pupils at the school. the rest of her friends help find her sister. i can't think of many other instances where the murder cases get personal for kitty, but when she needs her friends, they're there for her. another note, kitty is really protective and close with beanie, and has beanie stay with her during the christmas holidays while her parents are away because beanie's mother is ill (this is in the case of the missing bunbreak which is a short story - also! - kitty gets beanie a dictaphone because beanie isn't so good at writing stuff up)
beanie: out of all of them, beanie is the one that seems to value her friends the most, and this really shows. most obviously is in jolly foul play, when beanie knowingly puts herself between her friends and the girl they just discovered is the murderer. beanie. who originally has this nickname because she is physically small. she ends up in the school hospital afterwards, but she was able to protect her friends. beanie's friends are also very protective of her, probably because she is so loveable, which we see in top marks for murder. remember when her dad shows up by himself, and beanie is freaked out because she had recently seen a man strangle/attempting to strangle a woman in the woods? she goes running off, and her friends go after her and hug her and reassure her. good stuff.
lavinia: lavinia as a character is complicated, but here we go. she is very much the "gruff character with a heart of gold" character, but it feels pretty reasonable. in the very first paragraph of the first book, it is mentioned that lavinia comes from a "broken home" i.e. her parents are divorced. i think we find this out even before we find out hazel is chinese. so yeah, given that divorce was pretty uncommon in the 30s, escpecially among wealthier people, i think this affected lavinia pretty hard, and as a result of the fallout from her parents' marriage, she decided she didn't need anyone (this is my interpretation, take it or leave it, but i have proof. it's mentioned that lavinia has older brothers, so i think even when she was a child growing up, lavinia didn't have the experience of parents who loved her and each other, that their marriage was on the rocks for a while, and eventually they decided to just end with divorce, damn the repurcussions, damn the fact that it will be a talking point at their daughter's school). she also doesn't have a significant best friend, which must feel kind of lonely in her dorm because kitty and beanie are best friends, as are daisy and hazel. but she's not entirely a lone wolf, even if it seems like it at first. daisy and hazel's first case is finding lavinia's tie, because lavinia asked them for help. when daisy inducts lavinia into the detective society in the fourth book, it's because lavinia asked to be part of it, and even though she mocks daisy's solemn rituals, hazel notes that she seems pleased to be part of it. when daisy and hazel come back to school at the start of the book, lavinia makes a "we didn't really miss you" comment, but hazel can tell she doesn't mean it. hazel also notes that lavinia seems pleased when the others tell her and daisy about lavinia being good at tennis; this contrasts with the tennis exhibition scene later in the book when her father's fiancée is cheering her on. essentially, lavinia's rejection of parental figures means that she probably values her friends all the more, and the support they give her. a couple of instances of her being a good friend to the others that stick out as well: in jolly foul play, when kitty's sister binny is found, and binny says she is hungry, lavinia is the one to give her some chocolate. lavinia also decides to crash at kitty's during the christmas holidays rather than spend them with her father and his fiancée. this has got too long, let's move on.
daisy: a bit like lavinia, daisy can be a bit mean to/reject others, which i think comes down to her confidence and self-assurance. these are great personality traits, don't get me wrong, but there can be downsides to them. for example, in jolly foul play, daisy feels less self-assured about her friendship with hazel because hazel and alexander have started to write to each other after meeting on the orient express (i'd also point out that this is at a time when daisy probably needs support more than ever because she and her family are probably still dealing with the aftermath of the murder and murder trial, which was probably quite a big deal). at one point, hazel sees daisy making lists and writing notes about the murder, the things that hazel usually does during an investigation. we can put this rejection of friendship with hazel down to daisy's insecurity. even earlier in the series is arsenic for tea, where i can think of two significant moments. firstly, daisy and hazel see her mother secretly making out with a man that is not daisy's father. rough, which is why afterwards hazel comforts her. the second instance is when daisy and hazel overhear a conversation between the butler and daisy's father, and without complete context, it seems to confirm that daisy's father is the murderer. at first daisy won't acknowledge it, and hazel has to practically put the words in her mouth, which is a pretty tense and emotional moment. it's not really an argument, but hazel has to force her best friend to confront the fact that her father may have committed a murder, which again ties into her self-assurance. in the first book, hazel writes about the honourable daisy wells; popular, pretty, clever, the daughter of a lord. she is storybook perfect, but in the second book, we see that things aren't as perfect as they seem. daisy finds out her mother's infidelity, and later fears that the father she adores may be a murderer. her self-assurance about that everything in her life is golden begins to falter, and so she relies on herself and her friends to work through the murder case. daisy is also a good friend though, especially to hazel. yes, she can be mean and teasing sometimes, but ultimately she is a good friend. when hazel's grandfather dies in a spoonful of murder, the first thing we hear daisy say about it is "i guess i'm coming to hong kong then". hazel needed daisy and daisy is there for her. daisy comforts hazel through grief over her loss, jealousy about her new baby brother, and guilt about the subsequent kidnapping and murder that takes place. and in death sets sail? daisy saves the life of hazel's youngest sister may. literally, because may is maybe seven or eight, and probably can't swim. hazel and her family and everyone else is panicking, but daisy kind of just runs straight into the situation, never mind the danger, she has to save hazel's sister. and she does. also a couple of things to note about this scene, when daisy turns to look back just before she goes overboard, hazel wonders if it was because amina was watching, and daisy wanted to impress her. but hazel also hears daisy say her name just before she goes overboard. in that scene, through all the stress daisy was thinking about hazel, her friend, and saving her friend's little sister.
hazel: finally, we come to hazel. out of all of them, maybe even more than beanie, i would say that hazel values her friends the most. for the obvious reason, her family lives on another continent, and therefore it's important to have some strong connection with the people she does have near to her. at first it's just kind of necessity? when she first comes to deepdean, hazel is shy and no-one really talks to her, and she is pretty much just a sort of curiosity, very much the "other". it is after daisy watches hazel's failed experiment in fitting in with the other girls, and realises how she is clever and observant and puts on an act for others (which hazel also recognises in daisy), that daisy decides that they're going to be friends. it's also my theory that this then leads to kitty, beanie and lavinia befriending her a bit more. while they probably weren't unkind or r*cist to her, they probably let the "otherness" of hazel's ethnicity and nationality act as a barrier to properly getting to know her, which was probably exacerbated by the fact that hazel is quite introverted (compared to amina for example, who is very outgoing and lively, which meant that everyone at deepdean immediately loved her - there is something to be said about the fact that people probably didn't regard amina with the same amount of "otherness" because if they can have a asian pupil at their school, why not an african one?). hazel is also a kind person, which makes her a good friend to the others. near the end of death sets sail, she helps look for the cook's brooch which had been a gift from daisy, and later comforts kitty about not having a boyfriend. but hazel also relies on her friends, and they support her. when hazel's grandfather dies and her father wants her to come home, she insists on having daisy with her. kitty tells hazel about the fact that alexander is clearly pining for her. in the first book when everyone is discussing the teacher that has gone missing (because she's been murdered) beanie brings up a rumour that the teacher is "an agent for the East" then panics and apologises to hazel (something hazel notes that only beanie would think to do). there are other facets of hazel and her friendships, that i could explore, but i am tired and this has gone on long enough.
if you have reached the end, congratulations. hopefully you enjoyed this essay length ramble about female friendships in the murder most unladylike series
#murder most unladylike#robin stevens#daisy wells#hazel wong#mmu#kitty freebody#lavinia temple#beanie martineau
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Ted Lasso 2x03 thoughts
SAM OBISANYA EVERYONE
SERIOUSLY
JUST SAM
EVERYTHING ABOUT SAM
IF YOU DON’T LOVE SAM YOU’RE WRONG
I - just - I saw a preview saying Sam was going to have a ‘protest in sport’ storyline this season and I thought that the writers could probably pull it off, but nonetheless it was a relief to see that they did pull it off. The fact that the momentum of the protest was pushed by Sam and the Nigerian players rather than someone like Ted or Rebecca was good - the fact that Sam fully held his own with dignity and integrity all the way through the ep was good - the fact that we had Ted acknowledging that when bad things happen to white dudes like him the press covers it without encouragement was good….
On a slightly more baseline reaction: I love every second I see Sam’s lovely smiling face on my screen and will continue to do so.
There’s literally nothing I can say about the taping-up-the-shirts scene other than it made me tear up at 9.30AM and that’s not a thing that usually happens in my life.
We’re finally getting more Richmond FC screentime! It’s pertinent that we see this on the ep where Jamie returns - how much camaraderie and genuine friendship has built up since he left - but just any excuse to see those daft happy faces together. The general ribbing of Sam’s ad, the post-match party together - I adore these himbos.
A special shout out to: ‘I’m nervous and excited, kind of like whenever Colin takes me somewhere in his Lamborghini’ ‘Yeah it’s way too much car for me.’ As a fellow Welsh person, I can confirm that flash speedy supercars really aren’t part of our national DNA.
I’m also hoping that Richard talking in French and Zoreaux translating for him becomes a regular thing.
I love how they wrote Jamie’s return: it would have been so easy for him to come back and have all be forgiven, but they made it messy and complicated and have forgiveness come in dribs and drabs. I love that Jamie didn’t immediately understand everything about the team’s feelings and that his first impulse was to buy their acceptance back (that’s a painful little snapshot into his psyche right there) and that we saw people like Sam and Nate and Colin be allowed to be petty with him returning. I also loved seeing Keeley not being put into the role of ‘Jamie’s minder’ again but instead pushing him to speak with Sharon, a person who is actually paid to deal with this crap - it was an understated but neat little moment of a woman demonstrating personal boundaries with the men in her life.
What I absolutely adored, though, was that the final reconciliation comes after Jamie puts his own fame and reputation and wallet on the line by joining in with Sam’s protest. It was a proper ‘I’m part of this team even if it hits me where it hurts’ sacrifice when before Jamie has only ever been about himself, and such a neat resolution to the rift.
Is anyone else concerned about Coach Beard’s relationship with Jane? All these fights do not sound healthy.
I really like how the boys react to Keeley now - it seems to be a genuine friendship between her and the team, as opposed to the mutual objectification on all sides that we saw in the first episode. Her becoming the entire team’s big sister warms my cold heart.
Nora was a delight. I was a little worried about her inclusion because so often TV writers can’t get teenage girls right - they’re always a bit too sassy and perfectly put together and smarter than every adult in the room - but Nora was the perfect blend of snark and teenage insecurity. Her crush on Sam was both adorable and the most relatable thing about her; and her bonding with Rebecca was adorable - I really enjoyed the email composition scene, and hope we get more of her in the future.
Rebecca ‘Ally Who Stands By Her Boys At All Times And Takes No Shit’ Welton is an absolute queen.
For a show about Ted Lasso there wasn’t so much Ted in this ep (the Led Tasso scene was pretty fun, admittedly), but all I can say is a dating app with no pictures that both Ted and Rebecca are on, leading to a YOU’VE GOT MAIL AU TED AND REBECCA???? PLEASE. I need this like air.
Also: Ted Lasso as a sexual partner who is, and I quote, ‘so eager to please’??? Rebecca take notes, girl.
Similarly not so much Roy in this ep, but his appearance on Sky Sports was once again a thing of absolute beauty. (’I hope he dies of the incurable condition of being a little bitch’ is a line I am going to use all the time now.) I would pay Brett Goldstein any amount of money to join Sky Sports and commentate on real life football as Roy.
Higgins being so easy around Rebecca and lying (unsuccessfully) to a teenage girl to big up his boss in front of her granddaughter was a perfect and underrated moment. Their friendship just makes my heart explode.
I’ve already shrieked my head off about Colin being all but confirmed as on Grindr and how it will take a lot to disabuse me of my ‘bisexual disaster who drives like an idiot’ headcanon (I mean, they put the two lines in the same scene ffs), but it does bear repeating. I actually love him, your honour.
Probably my favourite episode of the season so far. Next Friday’s Christmas shenanigans cannot come soon enough.
#ted lasso#ted lasso spoilers#jamie tartt#sam obisanya#rebecca welton#nora#theodore lasso#isaac mcadoo#colin hughes#coach beard#nate shelley#roy kent#keeley jones
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Can you do 64 or 67 for brettsey please?
Prompt 64 can be found here!!
67. “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”
Matt should have seen this coming.
His mom's not exactly young. He doesn't know where she's been or how she's been doing these past few years, frankly. He's had no record of whether she's been staying healthy-- through no fault of his own, seeing as how his mom's always been less than reliable since getting out of prison. Hell, even before getting arrested she'd been letting him and Christie down in smaller ways.
So when he gets the call that Nancy Casey has passed away from a heart attack at the ripe age of 68, he thinks it's just one more way in which his mother has let him down; one more member of the Casey family carrying their overwhelming amount of secrets to the grave.
He should feel sad, he knows that, but all he feels is numbness and a slight annoyance at having to deal with the funeral and all her belongings.
Her belongings aren't actually all that numerous, he realizes soon enough, which he assumes is a perk of being so flakey. All he gets is a box of things. He doesn't know what things, exactly. He'd gone to her place, shoved everything he could find into a cardboard box without paying attention to any of it, and left before he had the change to boil over with rage at all the things she'd kept from him and Christie-- the apartment included.
He should book time off or something. Or maybe visit her grave. He hasn't been there since the funeral a week ago (at which he, Sylvie, and Christie had pretty much been the sole attendants), maybe it'd do him some good in theory. But right now, every normal way of grieving flies out the door for him. He feels himself reverting back to the Casey family tradition: internalizing your feelings and keeping them secret until the day you die. Literally. It's not fun, not pleasant, and certainly not healthy. But in some weird way, it feels like his own way of honouring his mother, so he doesn't fight it. He should, but he doesn't.
Until Sylvie notices, and manages to tear down his walls in one fowl, beautifully agonizing swoop.
She picks up on it pretty quickly. He drifts off a lot during shift, he looks even more serious than usual, and he refuses to talk about it all that much whenever she asks how he's feeling-- which isn't for lack of trying, but how the hell can he put every complex little emotion he's feeling into words? Doing that will take time.
She's over to the loft one night, petting gently at his hair with her legs sprawled across his lap as they mindlessly watch TV, when she notices the box of his mom's things collecting dust by the by the basketball machine. Stella and Severide are out and Sylvie knows he's not paying attention to what's on anyway, so she turns the TV off. It manages to get his attention and he looks to her, confused.
Her attention isn't on him though, only on the box. Its flaps are taped shut at the top, his mom's name in black sharpie fading slowly. "You still haven't opened the box of your mom’s stuff?"
"No," he admits.
“Matt…” she sighs, taking her legs off his lap to sit upright on the couch. “You’ve been retreating into yourself ever since your mom passed away. Please don’t shut me out. I’m here, you know that, right?”
“I do. But Sylvie, I’m fine,” he insists. “My mom knew exactly what she wanted in life once she got out of prison and I wasn’t exaclty a part of that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her, I probably don’t know half of what’s in that box anyway. She hid her new life from me and Christie. She’s just next in a long line of people in my family who’ve taken their secrets to the grave, that’s all.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”
Her tone is sympathetic but has a slight edge to it. She wants him to open up, he knows that. That’s, along with the surprising frustration in her eye, is enough to make Matt want to. So he tries.
“I want to,” he assures her. “But there’s nothing to say. She was gone before, and she’s gone now. It’s just more permanent now.”
“But don’t you think opening that box will give you some— I don’t know… closure?”
“I know it probably will, but I've been busy with contracting work and the firehouse has been busy and... I don't know, it just slipped my mind."
She gives him a look as if to say she doesn't buy it for a second, only it turns quickly into a look of sympathy. Because it always does. Sylvie, through thick and thin, good and bad, just always understands him. That goes both ways, which makes it even better, but it also means he knows exactly what she's thinking right now.
"What's keeping you from doing it now then?"
"Now?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his arm stretching out against the back edge of the couch and rubbing at her far shoulder. "Well for one, I'm having a relaxing night with you, and I'd rather not ruin that with memories of my less than reliable mother. And second, I just... I'm...."
Matt finds himself choking on his words, unable to admit to himself the one word he's looking for. He doesn’t know where this sudden seriousness comes from, this abrupt inability to keep things in. It’s like an old habit, and normally those die hard. Except Sylvie’s lifting a gentle hand to caress his face, is giving him that warm and comforting look, and he knows exactly why it’s hard.
It’s hard because it’s her. It’s Sylvie, and trying to internalize things around her at this point is pointless— even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t want to. He’s stripped of all his walls when he’s around her and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Scared?” She finishes his sentence for him, giving him an expectant look.
He nods, because yes. Matt Casey, a firefighter who’s faced blazing fires and near-death experiences, is scared of opening a tiny little box. It takes a lot for him to admit that but he’s with her, which makes it ten times easier. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I know it sounds silly, but I can’t bring myself to look at all the things from her life that she left me and Christie out of. I’m scared I’ll look in there and realize just how much of a stranger she was to me— and of how much I miss her anyway.”
Sylvie exhales quietly, eyeing him achingly for a moment while she gnaws at her lip the way she only does when she’s thinking hard. Then, she gives his knee a comforting squeeze before standing up. He shifts on the couch, elbows moving to his knees as he scrunches his brow in a pensive and painful train of thought of his own. He thinks Sylvie is just getting a glass of water or a tissue or something else, honestly. But when he looks up from his brooding, he sees her over by the basketball machine, picking up the box and bringing it over.
“Here,” she says, placing it on the table in front of them and sitting back down in her spot next to him. Their legs press together, leaving no space between them on the couch.
“No,” he shakes his head as he responds. “No, I can’t do it.”
“You can,” Sylvie assures him. “We can do it. Together. You don’t have to go through any of this alone, Matt. So if you have to sit here for a minute before opening it, or ten minutes, or an hour even, then you can do that. I’ll be here the entire time.”
Her eyes twinkle kindly at him and Matt swears, in that moment, that he’s the luckiest man alive. Something about everything she just told him strikes him harder than usual, acting as a sharp and wonderful reminder that they’re meant for each other.
“I am so in love with you,” he utters softly.
Sylvie lets out a quiet giggle, moving to hold his hand and lace their fingers together. “I love you too.”
She presses a tender kiss to his cheek as he sucks in a sharp breath, his attention now turning to the box in front of them. The box looks back at him, almost as if challenging him. Only now, miraculously, it seems more manageable to him. It’s still scary, still carries a lot of emotional weight for Matt. But he feels Sylvie’s hand in his and it gives him the strength to do this.
He lets go of Sylvie’s hand for a moment to tear the flaps of the box open. His hand finds hers again as soon as its done, relying on her for more strength as he moves to peer inside the box.
His heart stops.
With his spare hand, he pulls out the first thing in the box, at the very top— the very thing that made his heart stop. Nothing else in the box matters now, he thinks. Because sitting there, in the palm of his hand, is a picture of him, Christie, and his mom. Nancy Casey sits in the center of the picture, with Matt and Christie at her sides. He remembers the day well; it was his fourteenth birthday, after all. There’s a cake in front of them in the picture to prove it. Matt doesn’t ever remember looking and feeling so young. Admittedly, he doesn’t remember being that happy around his family either. Normally, birthdays were sort of a mess for him, a constant struggle of battling with his father over how they should celebrate it that alwaus left Matt grumpy and hurt. But in the picture, his mom’s hand is tickling his side, as well as Christie’s, and the moment captures the exact moment that he and Christie reflexively lean into her chest from the laughter. His mom’s smile is bright and wide— something he rarely saw around his household.
They were happy once. They were a family, no matter how messed up everything got between them. Maybe Nancy Casey wasn’t such a stranger to him after all. That fact alone sends those million complicated little emotions swirling around in his chest.
Only this time, he doesn’t bury them. This time, they all come pouring out at once and the dam breaks. He doesn’t know when the tears started, but they flow now with a painful ease.
Sylvie lets go of his hand and pulls him in, holding onto him tight and close as his head rests on her chest. He feels tears of her own drip on the back of his head as she strokes his hair gently. He so rarely cries like this and yet now that he’s started— now that he has someone like Sylvie who lets him be vulnerable— he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.
Only she tightens his grip on him, whispers soothing hushes and gentle reassurances that everything will be okay, and he knows that he’ll stop soon enough.
#y’all enough with the angsty hurt/comfort prompts PLEASEE my emotions can’t take it lol 😭#fanfic prompts#abby writes#prompt requests#abby.answers#brettsey#sylvie brett#matt casey
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Do you think that making Chinese food is cultural appropriation? I'm white and started making some of the foods I saw in the shows I've watched since the untamed, but now I'm worried I'm appropriating the culture.
Hi anon,
As a fellow white person, I am also someone who needs to critically reflect on how I engage with different cultures. I can't give you the definitive answer you seek, the clear absolution from any potential wrongdoings; in its stead, I can only offer to share my current thought process on this topic. I’d still encourage you to seek other perspectives, and many people have written or spoken on this topic.
I believe we must first acknowledge that, on the terrain of the internet, discussions regarding cultural appropriation have reached a certain... extreme where some people view all forms of cultural exchanges as inherently suspect. They purport that so long as you stay within the bounds of ‘your’ culture, you will problematic behaviours. That perspective is inherent flawed. That is, it relies on a vision of culture as ‘bounded entities’ that exist in themselves. In reality, the ‘stuff’ that makes culture is emergent, existing only relationally, dialectically--it is a not a ‘thing’ that moves through time but an idea which is constantly negotiated and reproduced in relation to power and changing material realities to remain relevant and intelligible. The boundaries of cultural and ethnic groups are fuzzy, overlapping, and constantly being reworked and made meaningful. As an illustration, many of the food I grew up eating was influenced by ingredients and recipes immigrants brought in the 19th and 20th centuries, yet these dishes were understood as 'typically ours’. And it needs to be acknowledged that most of what is currently considered ‘white people food’ relies on ingredients that were introduced to our diet through colonialism and the violent dispossession of indigenous peoples (and, often, the current day exploitation of workers in the South and of migrant workers). No food can be truly ‘traditionally ours’, whatever the purported ‘we’ ends up being brought into the equation, and no eating behaviours can avoid the historical legacy and continuity of violence and power.
Of course, as people who exist in the world, we know that there are cultural differences. Bakhtin’s insights on language through the tensions between centripedal (ie towards uniformity, a common meaning) and centrifugal (toward diversity and change) forces can be expanded to help us conceptualise how we make sense of the way a ‘culture’ is perpetuated through time as something meaningful in our daily lives. Uniformity allows intelligibility, sense-making, but diversity and change are inescapable by-products of individuals and groups repeatedly going through life, meeting and trying to create intelligibility and sense together in a world that cannot stay the same. It is at the intersection of these two conflicting forces that something can be different yet considered the same--that we can create continuity out of change. But something perhaps less emphasized in Bakhtin’s discussions is how much power and material realities work on these forces. Power influences both centripedal and centrifugal forces, if only in orchestrating circumstances that shape how one encounters ‘different cultures’ or reproduces their 'own' culture.
We live at a moment where the world seems to have reached an apex of connectivity--where goods, people, ideas (and viruses) move across distance and borders at speeds that defy comprehension. Yet the way goods, people and ideas move (through which canals and systems? in which direction? to the benefits of whom? at the expense of whom? to what reception or use? in the service of which institutions and ideologies?) or are, inversely, incapable or unwilling to move, is influenced by power and material realities. It is inescapable.
In a roundabout way, what I’m trying to say is that it's useless to try to live life in 'your lane' by turning to a baseline 'culture' because we simply do not have a baseline culture to return to that is 'safe' from the influences of other cultures or the taint of the historical legacy and continuity of violence. So how do I personally reconcile that with how I engage with content that is produced from different cultural contexts, and how I engage with cooking food that is influenced by different cultural contexts? For me the guidelines I take into consideration are respect, attribution and avoiding forms of dehumanisation. These emerged out of witnessing how other white people have acted as well as critically reflecting on how I have acted in the past, and trying to do better (including of course, by listening to different perspectives on the topic). [just in case, warning for examples of racism/micro-agressions] I've been in China with white people who would praise the cooking we were eating in the same breath they were making jokes about dog meat. I've witnessed in Japan a dude decide not to come to an izakaya with Japanese colleagues, fucking off on his own to Akihabara instead, because he was disappointed he couldn’t talk about anime with them--too obsessed with the idealised version of Japan he’d created in his head to treat the Japanese people he met as people. The internet is full of white people telling you how to cook food from places they've never been and taking credit for 'popularising' that dish or 'making it better'. That's not even talking about the tendency for food to become a mark of a cosmopolitan, metropolitan identity in the West--the open-minded, the liberal, the traveler, the hip white person up with the times and beyond the mainstream. Hell, I've even seen people who act as if eating ‘ethnic’ food prepared by immigrants is the singular proof that they were people who cared about immigrants' well-being.
Food is rarely just about food, even when consumed at home. At the same time, we’d be remiss in all these discussions of power to dismiss how food is also one of oldest things we, as humans, want to share with others--including strangers. Feeding is nourishing and giving, eating is accepting into ourselves something made by others. Most people appreciate it when the value of a dish that holds importance for them is recognised by others--although, of course, many might understandably also resent that they have been discriminated against or mocked for eating that same food. Every time I’ve been invited in an immigrant household or at events with mostly immigrants, I’ve felt this sense of almost trepidation emanating from them, waiting for my reaction, and satisfaction once I was seen eating and appreciating the food they had served me--as if the acceptance of the food that was tied to their identity was a form of acceptance of who they were. Of course this can’t be disentangled from past experiences where other people might have been disrespectful, dismissive or outright racist: but the excitement they had in sharing food that had meaning to them and seeing others appreciate it was genuine.
Beyond situations of clear cultural sharing, where we get closer to what appears to be ‘cultural appropriation’, I believe that we cannot act as if there is something inherently sacrilegious in the idea of adapting recipes or using a specific ingredients in new ways--that’s centrifugal forces at play, and they have provided us with many dishes we love today: from immigrant creations like butter chicken to things like spicy kimchi. We cannot work with the assumption that people will only react with hostility at the idea of other people cooking the food they grew with, even in ways that are different from how they’re traditionally used and are thus “not authentic”. I still remember an interaction I had in a Korean grocery store, once upon a time when I lived in a metropolitan city. A man in front of me at the cash register who had been buying snacks and chatting with the employee in Korean looked at my stuff and suddenly asked me if I knew the name of the leafy green I was buying. I wasn’t necessarily surprised because I had overheard in the past customers and employees commenting in Korean about being surprised about the ingredients I, a white person, was purchasing, thinking I couldn’t understand them. I confirmed to him that I knew I was buying mustard greens. He then asked me what I was planning to do with them, and I explained that while I didn’t think it’s a traditional or common way of using it, I personally liked to add them to kimchi jjigae because it compliments their bitter/strong taste and I like leafy greens in my soups and stews. He said it was interesting, and that he was kind of impressed. The employee chimed to tell me I should be honoured at the compliment because the man was actually a chef who owned famous Korean fusion restaurants in the city. That was clearly someone who took Korean food very seriously and clearly had a certain degree of suspicion regarding how white people interacted with it, but he was also curious and interested in seeing how I approached ingredients without having grown up eating them.
Another point of contention is also that we cannot ignore that food is a sensual experience and that, while tastes are greatly influenced by our environment, they are not solely so. I grew up hating most of the food my parents would serve me, and started cooking in my early teens to avoid having to eat it. Before I started cooking, I would often just eat rice with (in hindsight horrible) western-brand soy sauce instead of the meal my mom had made. When I ate Indian food for the first time during a trip at the ripe age of 16, it blew my mind that food could taste like this. Of course I never wanted to look back, and with each years I discovered that a lot of Asian cuisines fit my palate better than what I grew up eating or other cuisines I had tried. When I was a teenager we visited my mom’s friend in France and I hated what she served us so much I’d simply choose to nibble on bread, prompting her to try to stage an intervention for my ‘obvious’ anorexia. Yet, being in China made me realise ingredients I thought I hated had just been cooked in ways I disliked. Do my taste buds absolve me from any need to think critically about how I interact with food? Of course not. But sometimes the reason we want to cook certain recipes and foods is just that it tastes great to us, and we want to reproduce the recipes we enjoyed with the ingredients and the skills we have. Or, really, sometimes we just want to try new tastes because we do a lot of eating throughout our lives, and it seems a waste to limit ourselves to a narrow number of dishes for decades to come.
So that’s where I currently am in my thinking about this topic, as a white person who cooks dishes influenced by a number of different places but who is also not trying to cook in a way that is necessarily authentic. Some things that I keep in mind that you can ask yourself now that cdramas and cnovels have made you interested in Chinese cooking is: are you taking this as an opportunity to support immigrant businesses when getting your ingredients? are you supporting white creators when looking for chinese recipes (some suggestion of youtube channels: Made with Lau, Chinese cooking Demystified, Family in Northwest China, 西北小强 Xibeixiaoqiang, 小高姐的 Magic Ingredients)? are you being respectful (not reproducing harmful stereotypes in how you talk about chinese food and the people who eat it)? do you use your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about China and Chinese people that denies them, in some way, of their complexity and humanity? are you using your interest in Chinese food to create a narrative about yourself?
In conclusion I will leave you with a picture of some misshapen baozi I’ve made.
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"KINDRED",5 - Tommy Shelby x Reader (x Alfie Solomons).
Warnings: Alfie is a warning, mention of abduction, swearing, guns, fluff & slight angst at the end.
Summary: You're an ex war-nurse reconverted as the leader of a feminist organisation. You join forces with the leader of the backstreet Birmingham gang, Thomas Shelby, to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.
Word Count: 5K+
AN: Gina's family is totally OC as we know nothing about her in the show / POV alternate between characters' and Y/N's.
*Masterlist*
❰ Previous Chapter
*Margate, Solomons’ residence*
“Alfie!” You exclaimed. You were wearing a white woollen coat with fur around your neck, the same coloured futrzane at the top of your head flattening your finger-waved hair on each part of your face.
Under the woollen coat, you wore a light brown satin dress covering your full body with white high heels. Your look wouldn’t be complete without your blue stones jewellery collection of necklace and earrings. Your golden rings complimented her fingers above one of your white lace gloves.
That was the sound of your heels that made the man turn his head, his mind was elsewhere and he didn’t hear your call.
“Eh, eh, eh. Who that might be, huh, none other than Y/L/N.” He muttered to himself, squinting his eyes looking towards you.
You got closer to him and met with a frowning maid that looked at you with envy at the back of her eyes. You offered her a genuinely warm smile that let your white teeth out, which confused the maid.
“Glad to see you’re still breathing, Captain.” You reached to him.
You were always seemed to be open and all heart with women whereas you were the opposite with men.
“And what you be doing here, love? Thought I left you back in the smoke, innit?”
“Well I’m here Alfie, that war’s done, but there’s another one coming.” Y/N said outright. You stopped in front of him, took off the glove free of rings and passed your fingers through his hair, down to his cheek. Alfie remained silent as Y/N's fingers sprinkled his skin with sparks.
You grabbed his chin between your index and thumb, moving his head to the side, you were examining the damage that has been done to his right eye. “I met him.” You solemnly let out.
He already knew who you were referring to.
“He a fucking bookmaker, what you have with him?” He innocently let out, which made you chuckle a bit as you sat down on the sofa in front of him.
You clicked your tongue before slowly putting back your glove. “I love you, Alfie. There’s no bad blood between us but you know me. So don’t fucking try me.” Your threat was covered with an implied mention of your intertwined past, so you would reason with him with both reason and sentiment.
He grabbed the binoculars laying down next to him and raised it vertically towards the sea. “Fucking birds making noise all day annoying my peace of mind... If our mate didn’t shoot me I’ll be shooting ‘em, you know.”
“He was here before me, so you know he entered politics, Alfred.”
He glanced at you hearing his full name on your lips. No one but you ever called him that, and he had forgotten that habit of yours.
“I mean, he would’ve shot me anyway, right. But aiming right is free, innit?” He looked away. “Even at night, they be fucking screaming, mate. Try sleeping in some fucking screaming box.”
“You have trouble sleeping?” You snapped back, interested, catching the man's attention. He knew exactly what you were referencing to, shared memories about sharing beds during war.
“Not like that.” He got back to looking in his binoculars, choosing not to go on to that path.
“Not like that, huh?” You raised your brows at him, he had opened the gates and shall have what he asked for.
You let your coat fall on your arms, showing your naked shoulders and tilted your head. “We could still work it, like good old times, eh?” You teased the man, your Y/E/C piercing eyes not leaving his face.
Alfie didn’t even look at you. “Where’s your gun, Y/N?” He asked, presenting his palm to you, waiting. “Care to give it here for a sec?”
And without even thinking twice you grabbed your little gun from your shoulder holster under your coat and placed it in Solomon’s hand. You were watching his movements as he cocked the gun and aimed something outside the house you surmised to be the birds he was talking about.
“Thought you’d hand me one of your rifles, mad deceived ‘am now” He followed the targets with the gun without daring to shoot.
“War’s over, Alfie.” You put back on your coat and lit a cig before leaning backwards on the sofa, making yourself comfortable.
“Came in here telling me some war coming, now telling me it’s done…Come on, pick a struggle, love” He grumbled to himself as shifting his position.
“I lied. Actually, the war’s already here, and I have both feet in.” You raised your brows, smoking your cig.
“Me none.”
“Not yet.” You snapped back, getting up. “Look, Alfred. Margate’s not doing you any justice. Get back in business, come back to London.” You encouraged him. “You didn’t welcome me when I set foot in town. Didn’t even kiss me ‘bonjour’ *talking french* (=hello). I need my Captain back.” Your voice lowered on the last part as if you were pouting.
“Did you ever put your palm on one eye, eh? When child, you do that to see if life is any different seen by one eye or the other. You cover one eye with your palm and look fucking far away, yea. I used to do that often, you?” He stops what he was doing to glance at you, that was standing near him.
“No.”
“Well, life’s fucking different. Yeah” He nodded to himself confirming his story. “It really is, one eye doesn't show what you see with the other. I’m fucking blind, now. Can only see one side of life, can’t I?” He turned to you, staring. Under his confusing metaphor, he was talking common sense, and it wasn’t difficult for you to decrypt his code as you knew the character.
What he was saying was simple, the experience with Tommy & the Italians made him insensible to the things that used to interest him before. Business and power weren’t things he cared about now.
You silently nodded before sitting right next to him. You put a palm onto one of your eyes and looked to the sea, searching for the screaming birds. Once you found one, you rushed your hand under your dress, to the inside of your thighs, your hand came out with another gun that you pointed straight forward before shooting.
A bird’s helpless scream was heard before Alfie’s mouth opened. “Damn, woman. You still got this.”
“You just gotta picture what’s behind the black spot, Alfred. You fucking draw the lines in your head, because you’ve seen them. They’re here, somewhere in your mind, you just gotta draw them.” You muttered to his ear and he let out an “Um.” before trying to also shoot a bird.
(...)
When Y/L/N's foot touched the gravels of Small Heath’s ground, each women’s head turned to her as a disturbing silence spread over the crowd. She got out of the car when Lizzie opened her mouth, catching the attention of Polly, “He’s fucking her.” She spat with disgust, her eyes filled with jealousy and fear of losing Thomas once again.
Once a month, the peaky girls joined the reunion of women in Small Heath’s streets. This meeting's purposes were to one, show men that women, too, could gather, and second, to scare the institutions and politics about the numbers of women ready to fight for their rights. It was originally organized by Jessie Eden, a communist & feminist leader, but quickly was taken over by Y/F/N and her organisation.
Deleting the "communist" part of this meeting surely helped women gathered even more as they knew they weren’t directly taking sides in political matters, so the risk of getting arrested was low.
Polly’s eyes went from Lizzie to Y/N, who was shaking hands with some women wearing a soft smile along with a determined gaze. “Saw her once, going out of Tommy's office.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Every woman he be fucking went to his office.” She seemed fed-up, one of her feet angrily taping the ground back and forth.
“What business does Tommy have with a feminist?” Pol’ utterly murmured to herself, frowning. What was her surprise when she recognized the other woman coming out of the car, being none other than Ada.
The Thorne, initially Shelby woman, stood right next to Y/N, her brown hat set down on her finger waved hair. She wore her cream woollen coat with fur on her neck and ends of sleeves with pale rose heels. Her nails were bordeau-painted and complimented the red of her lips.
Polly never thought of Ada being interested in anything but communism, but here her niece was, and the thing that hit the Gray woman the most was that Ada seemed to belong there, talking to women and shamelessly shaking their hands. She wasn’t as reserved and distant as she usually was when around people.
“Let’s get out of here.” Polly started to walk away.
Lizzie frowned, “No reunion today?” She seemed relieved, she will not have to face the blonde woman that troubled her most lately.
“No reunion today.” Pol responded. She didn’t want to learn anything from Ada’s activities by spying, but she’ll surely try to draw it out of her later.
(...)
“You what?”
“Ada, sit.” You motioned to the nearest chair.
After the reunion, they both went to the house you bought for the organisation. It wasn’t big, nor elegant. It was a simple Small Heath’s house reconverted in an office.
If you wanted to stand a chance in changing the traditional standards toward women’s place in society, you needed to expand your organisation. You would put cabinets at each corner of the streets if needed. Women needed to know they stood a chance, they needed to know they weren’t alone in their battle and they needed to know they are protected, and that part, you made sure to honour.
“No, I’m not going to fucking sit. You didn’t talk about abducting somebody’s daughter, Y/N!”
Even if you didn’t have the police in your pocket, Tommy did, and their deal gave you the assurance you'll be able to run your business the way you wanted to. It was always better to have someone else command people to leave you alone than you using your high social status to get what you wanted. This way, if things went bad, it wouldn’t be you that’ll take the blame.
You sighed while raising your brows at Ada’s reaction. You pulled out your cigarette case and lit one that you handed her. Thorne took it and went to sit on the sofa, leaning her back to get comfortable.
“Damn, you’re just like him.” Ada let out, glancing at you who let out a “Huh?” of confusion.
You were intently looking at her as she also seated on the couch in front of you. You ignited yourself a cig and puffed on it, waiting for the other woman to process the information of you abducting Gina Gray.
“It’s like I’m in a meeting with Tommy.” She sighed. “It’s always about business and I can’t read him.”
In other words, you didn’t need Tommy to keep the police away from your activities, you could do it yourself if you wanted to. But taking care of this yourself meant to jeopardize each person in your organisation, and you couldn’t afford to risk it all.
“I saw you leaving the library with one of my women.” You blatantly let out, smoking your cig.
Ada frowned and shifted her position, she was uncomfortable. “She’s interested in communism.” She tried to defend herself as her cheeks reddened.
“I’m not judging you, I’m showing you it’s not always about business.”
“I was talking about you, not me.”
“This organisation is me, Ada, and you’re in it now. I know everything I need to know about it and I do everything I need to do for it.” You leaned towards the brown-haired woman.
In fact, it wasn’t at all about the expensive jewellery, nor the luxurious heels. It was about you having a family you cared about even if your kin weren’t blood-related.
Even if Ada understood what the woman in front of her meant, she couldn’t help but to roll her eyes, she heard this speech many times before, upon her brother’s lips. “Yeah, totally Tommy.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re always avoiding the subject when I talk about him.”
“He’s not my business.”
“Lizzie would argue otherwise.” Ada raised a brow at you, meaning she knew what happened when you and Lizzie first met in Tommy’s office.
You chuckled, crossing your legs.
“What is it between my brother and you?” She asked.
“You’re bored, Ada. That’s why you want the details. Get back with that woman you found and spend time together, huh?” You dismissed the Shelby woman. And this time, Ada scoffed because Tommy once told her the exact same thing about her being bored.
You gained composure again and straightened back up, “You with me on that or what?” Your tone suddenly went serious again, and Ada’s expression changed.
“Why do you ask about my opinion, don’t you like giving orders all the time?” Ada teased the Y/E/C eyed woman. Y/L/N liked that about the Shelby sister, she was always pushy without being aware.
“Stop being petty, Ada. You’re more of a thinker rather than a doer.” She dismissed the remarks.
“So why do you want my help in the first place?” Ada pondered, confusion in her eyes. The things Y/N struggled to understand was how Ada didn’t see the potential that resided in her. She would always diminish herself and her power for some reason when Y/L/N thought of her as a force of nature that begged to shine.
“I just need that pettiness and fearlessness of yours. Like a kind of representative.”
“Of you?”
You shook your head. “Representative of the organisation.”
“It’s Michael’s wife and I’m a Shelby, meaning she’s family.”
“You’re a Thorne, Ada. And these fucking people out here don’t give a fuck whose side you’re on. They’ll kill you whenever they get the occasion to. I know you don’t like this, but it’s a Shelby I need on this field.” You were pointing your index at the windows, leaning toward Ada.
“You know Gina's people?” Ada exclaimed, raising her hands in exasperation.
You tilted your head to the side to confirm, your eyes deeply in Shelby’s.
“Am a Thorne or a Shelby on the field?” Ada raised a brow to you.
“Both are strengths.”
(...)
You were sitting at the counter of the Garrison, sharing a drink with Arthur when the doors opened on Tommy. You didn’t see him come your way, but Arthur did. He glanced at his brother and grabbed his own drink before joining people elsewhere ignoring your presence.
You looked at him, frowning, and that’s when you turned around you noticed Tommy’s presence. You rolled your eyes at him. “You like to scare off my dates?” You sat back down, sipping on your drink.
“I like the dress,” Tommy said, ordering a whiskey. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but God knows it was because of the look he gave you while entering the pub that Arthur went away.
“Yeah?” You questioned quite surprised Tommy noticed you weren’t dressed as usual. “It’s different from the suits.” You added, seeing he wasn’t going to pursue the conversation.
The blue-eyed man glanced at Y/N's drink. “You drink rum now?” He grabbed his cigarette case and ignited one before handing it to the woman that gladly took it, a smile on her lips. He lit another one for himself.
“You’re alcoholic enough to tell the difference between whiskey and rum without tasting it?” Your suave voice made him look at you as clenching his jaw at your remark, this was all you would get from him.
“I’ve met with Mr Solomons, I thought it was the least I could do to buy some bottles of his.” Tommy’s eyes that were staring at Y/N's lips went up in a hurry when hearing her confession.
“You did what?” Thomas turned so his body faced the woman, his eyes anchored deeply in hers.
He was never so sure about your intentions, nothing was ever sure with you, whereas it was your feelings or what was in your head. And your unreadable face didn’t help a bit.
“I’m drinking rum, now.” You raised your brows at him, cheerfully.
The warmth your smile ignited in him wasn’t enough to make him forget about what you just said. Tommy’s lids fluttered as he remained silent, blankly looking at you. He was aware you thought of Alfie to run the south, as well as himself, but he didn’t expect you to be so direct and visit Alfie Solomons that fast.
“Stop looking at me like that, Tommy. You knew about Alfred and me.”
A wave of questions flowed through his mind, from the tender tone you worded Solomon’s name to the hidden message behind your words. What did you mean by he and you? Something was screaming at him that your relationship went beyond business at a certain point.
His brows raised. “Alfred, eh?” He scoffed, turning back to the counter, puffing on his cig.
He suddenly remembered the war records, informations hitting him like thunderbolts. You were in the same section. Alfie was the Captain of a battery in the artillery where you were sent. You knew each other.
“I also made him talk about the little arrangement you didn’t tell me about.” You let out dismissively. You weren’t blaming him for not telling you he asked Solomons to send his men to create a riot when Mosley will do his speech, you simply voiced your surprise. You thought he trusted you and were deceived to discover that he, in fact, did not.
A minute that seemed to last centuries passed, and you glanced at him. You were silently smoking as he was deep in his thoughts, not even looking at you.
“Well, it seems I’m not aware, no.” His voice was deep and he coughed before drinking his whiskey, his icy eyes looking straight forward to him.
You squinted your eyes in confusion before realizing he didn’t listen to you, he was still on that Alfred thing.
“You don’t listen to me.” You got up, blankly looking at him.
Tommy feigned not to see you, but when you raised a hand to his that was leading his cup to his mouth, a shiver ran down his spine in anticipation.
Even if he wanted to ignore you or how you made him feel, his body betrayed him.
You tenderly grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm towards you. Your piercing eyes met with his cold ones, as you dangerously neared your face.
Y/N ended up connecting the tip of their nose before slowly teasing his lips with hers. He was looking into your soul hidden in your iris and you were doing the same, you were the same.
You might be using flirt along with charm to get what you wanted from men, but with Thomas, it wasn’t the same. He had the exact same hold on you that you had on him, and both could feel it when in an intimate moment.
Their intimacy wasn’t simply about sex, a hunger due to an innate desire or need, no. It began the minute they would shamelessly dive into the being of the other. When he was undressing your soul with the most usual look.
You ultimately sealed your pleading lips together, considering they stayed apart for too long. Their warm breaths intertwined as both of you forgot everything around you, this moment belonged to no other than you, this instant was yours.
You could pretend you weren’t emotionally involved as long as you wanted when alone. But you couldn’t lie when in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to. You could just be yourself, it was more than enough there, at the mercy of his fingers.
Out of breath you pulled away, you opened your eyes to Tommy’s one looking straight at you again, and that made you laugh. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your rare giggles.
Nothing needed to be said when your eyes were connected, as well as nothing needed explanation when your lips were sealed, you were him and he was you. The urge of feeling your inner worlds collide again, Y/N came kissing him some more, to Tommy’s greatest pleasure.
“I know about using Alfie's men.” You murmured without leaving his lips, and he nodded slightly.
“I knew you would find it one way or another.” He answered. One of his hands went to your back as he was fondling you with his thumb above the fabric, he pulled you closer to him as your fingers were passing over his lips in a tender way.
You hit his chest with your other hand, realizing he wittingly kept his deal with Alfie from you just so you would get a little mad. It was his way of teasing you about the fact you cared.
He was purring under your touch when the doors opened. Polly’s eyes directly dropped on Tommy and the librarian before quickly glancing around the pub, meeting with Arthur’s. They both marked a pause and looked back to the two bill & cooing birds...
It wasn’t Tommy’s type to be that open about his relationship with a woman, but Polly already knew what was in his mind. He was convincing himself it was solemnly business, as with the other women he works with, but she knew he was starting to fall in love without even noticing it.
You both got back to reality and pulled away when Pol walked to you, going back to your respective drinks as if nothing happened. She placed herself in between you two, forcing you to take a step aside.
Tommy coughed, looking into his drink as if there was the most interesting thing in there as Y/N grabbed her things, she then started to walk away. And without even looking back, she passed the Garrison’s door.
Polly was staring at Thomas, her words useless in this situation. He glanced towards her and quickly went back to drinking, he wasn’t going to have that conversation with her.
It was Arthur, coming back to the counter that brought up the previous display between his brother and the librarian, “See Polly, my brother got another singing bird.” He was smiling before encountering Tommy’s eyes telling him to shut up, making his smile fade.
“And what you think it is, Thomas? Business?” Her deep trembling voice made him close his eyes a long time as he sighed. “It is love, Arthur.” She glanced at the man behind the counter. “You’re brother’s in love.” She continued, leaning to Tom, dramatically making him know in what he trapped himself.
He opened back his eyes and firmly dropped his fist on the wooden board in a thud, coughing away her words.
The Peaky Blinders head drank from his drink before quickly glancing to the doors you passed minutes ago, lost in thoughts. And as he was sure to think with his head, Polly knew he was thinking with his heart.
(...)
The man was walking slowly, each of his steps was heavy as the whistling escaping from his lips echoed on the concrete walls.
Ada that was on the other side of the wooden door looked through the window, trying not to overthink this situation. Since her first day as a book counsellor under the management of Y/N's organisation, she was never given major tasks. Rather kept at the very back of everything illegal.
But these past few days, she noticed Y/N was taking her to the important reunions, and Y/N's right hand, Ana, had been ordered to introduce Ada to “the work” as Y/L/N called it.
She didn’t know why it was her that had to meet with Gina’s father as Y/N was the one knowing what she needed from him, but Thorne kept away any negative thoughts, focusing on what needed to be done.
The door opened and a tall man entered. He was wearing a creamy long jacket, beige pants. Under the jacket, Ada glimpsed a shirt topped by a Roman collar similar to the priests’. His arms were crossed in his back.
He was pretty imposing, with large shoulders. Even under the fabrics, his browny chest and body could be seen.
Her gaze went up to his face, encountering his deep hazel coloured eyes staring straight at her. He got little eyes, their corner dropping as if he was sad. But she knew this type of man didn’t feel that emotion. Even if his iris were warm coloured, his gaze was cold, almost as if he wasn’t alive anymore, his eyes didn’t shine, they were glassy.
All those informations made Ada nervously gulp, continuing to examine the man’s face.
He had thick straight brows and he wore his brown curly hair slick on the side, one curl falling down his forehead.
He didn’t close the door behind him and walked to her until he was inches away. “You’re not Y/N.” His deep hoarse voice worded. And his remark made her instantly roll her eyes at him.
“Just sat, already. Can I offer you a drink?” Of course, she wasn’t Y/N, if he knew her, he would know it wasn’t as simple as that to meet with her.
“I don’t drink.” He squinted his eyes.
“Well, I do.” She turned to the counter to pour herself some whiskey and gladly started to sip on it as going to sit down. On his side, the man was walking in the room, stopping himself from time to time to examine the objects and frames he was surrounded by. “Is this your house?” He was fidgeting with a woman’s body paperweight.
“Your daughter doesn’t seem to be delighted by the fact you’re here.” She let facing him head-on.
He turned to her as she was staring at his face fearlessly. He delicately dropped the paperweight and went sitting down in the armchair in front of the brown-haired woman that followed his every move with her gaze.
“How’s your son? Mrs--” He feigned to search for her last name, but Ada knew he wanted her to understand that whoever she might be, he could get to her and her family if he decided to.
Of course, it wasn’t Ada’s house, but everything was made to make him believe so. They put some of her personal photographs with her son along with other personal effects.
“Thorne. Ada Thorne. And my son’s alright.”
This way, he will think he has the advantage over her, and if he wants to try anything, this is this house that will be targeted. But in fact, this house was one of the many business properties Y/L/N owned in the neighbourhood.
“Oh my.” He chuckled, raising his brows. “She got political alliances.” He crossed his legs and leant backwards in the chair, his arms laying on each of the armrests.
“You’re interested in politics Mr Rice?”
The man gave a faint smile hearing she knew about him more than he knew about her.
“Everything’s politics, Mrs Thorne.” He raised his gaze to her. He wasn’t being pushy or aggressive, but the atmosphere around him was heavy. His presence made her uncomfortable, and if she wasn’t a Shelby, she’d be unable to face him and stand the stare.
She nodded to him, thinking he answered right.
“I’m no longer in business, Y/L/N knows that very well. I left my brother in charge, it is him you need to see.” He was choosing his words meticulously, and each sentence he spoke was filled with unsaid things.
Not only was he implying that Y/N might be incompetent cause she picked the wrong guy, but he underlined the fact it was a family business, meaning abducting his daughter, wasn’t the best idea.
For a second, she thought her boss may have committed an error by forcing this Mr Rice to come to England, but she was quick to understand he was trying to destabilize her.
“Did you come all the way from Chicago to tell me I need to address another man? Wouldn't it be more intelligent to tell that in a call? ” She raised a brow, and now she was the best match for this meeting.
The man remained silent as he was smiling again, understanding his strategy will not work with her.
“It’s not about a man, not your brother, not you. It’s about Gina, your daughter, using your own methods to manipulate her husband to take control of something bigger than her, something she couldn’t even manage to take care of if she succeeds at having it. But we both already know, in reality, it’s your brother using her.” She returned him his evil smile before tilting her head. Her words sounded like bombs in the man’s ears. Acknowledging the fact his brother might use Gina for his own needs made Mr Rice gritted his teeth as one of his hands clenched into a fist.
He had been trying to get into her head, manipulating her into believing their actions were useless and that nothing could be done about the plan his daughter and Michael had. But being a Shelby as well as a Thorne, Ada knew how to handle those types of people.
“Well, you saw right through me. I see now why Y/N chose you.” He raised both his hands in admittance of his defeat.
Even if the man in front of her seemed harmless, she didn’t want to stay alone with him any longer. He was peculiar, from the way he was standing to his aura, she knew Gina's father was a weasel. She could read in his eyes he was lurking for the moment she'd let down her guard to get to her.
“Now you will meet with her.” Ada decided it was the end of this interview, surprising herself into taking such a decision. Maybe Y/N wanted her to do something more?
She gasped when getting up, which helped her get her mind clear. She understood her role was to make him realize he wouldn’t escape until they have what they wanted from him.
She went to the table, writing an address, a day and an hour on a piece of tissue paper. She then walked to the bearded man and handed him the fabric.
“Now business can begin…” She paused, keeping him from taking the paper. He glanced at her, sighing. “And leave your shenanigans at the door for this meeting, bring your will to cooperate instead... She way worse than me.”
(...)
*Shelby Company Limited*
Tommy opened the door to his office, he intended to walk towards his desk when hearing a low voice. “Arthur asked whose side I’m on.”
He turned around to a curled up Polly in the chair at the corner of his dark office. She wasn’t facing him, her body was halfway turned, as well as her face, leading her to look at him with side-eyes.
He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about. Since the meeting where Michael offered to run the business family, taking Tommy's place, she was distant, as if thinking about her son's proposal.
Tom surmised tonight was the time she'll give her final answer.
It was raining, the wind violently slapped the windows as well as the raindrops, the outside storm perfectly reflecting the conflictual atmosphere settled between the two. The climate deprived the office of any light, but a shy desk lamp faintly illuminated the place.
He took off his black gloves, throwing them on the table separating them. He then sighed and went sitting on the chair, raising his gaze to her, waiting for her to continue to speak.
“There will be a war, and one of you will die.” Her deep trembling voice along with the lapping of the rain on the windows added to the dramatic atmosphere.
Tommy sighed, he knew she was right. He was, indeed, waiting for a war. “But which one I cannot tell.” Her black eyes were staring straight into Tommy’s blue one.
He let out a “Hum.” surmising she’ll not add anything else. He nodded to himself, “he’s gonna do it anyway.” he continued. It wasn’t a question, this would explain her presence in his office that late in the night.
“Yeah.” She responded.
“You should know, if Aberama takes his side I will kill him.” Tommy said upfront.
She looked down before raising her gaze to him again, “And what about me?” She wasn’t blinking, patiently waiting for the confirmation of Tom’s determination to stop her son.
Tom paused, he was aware she was trying to know his intention and he was debating within himself if he could afford to let her know.
“I’ll do what I have to do, Pol” He dropped his definite sentence, he didn’t move his stare or body a bit. He didn’t need to let her know how determined he was, it was already showing.
“Kill… And kill.” She sang with a low voice, slowly blinking. She seemed tired of this situation, as well as tired of it all.
“It’s the only way to make people listen” He nodded his head to the side as murmuring his words.
Since her near-death experience with the noose, she wasn’t the same Polly that he knew. She was only a mere shadow to the person she once was. But this time she seemed truly fed-up.
The thunder was rumbling outside when she got up with slow movements. The sound of her high heels nearing him mixed with the sound of the rain racing down the windows.
She grabbed an envelope as well as her drink. “Soon, you will have a stage to stand on. Millions of people will listen to you. And you will run the country like you run this family.” Her head was held high.
She was looking down on Tommy.
He knitted his brows, holding the stare even if he had to raise his head to meet her. “It appears to be what people want.” He nodded to himself, trying to convince him, or her of what he was saying.
“But not me.”
He blinked.
“Not anymore.”
He blinked again.
“My resignation.” She concluded while dropping the envelope on the table before him. She also put down the empty cup and looked at him some more before turning her back at him and walk toward the exit.
He stared at the empty space in front of him where the woman used to stand prior as he heard her steps receding. Tommy inhales deeply before sighing, dropping his head forward. Her words hit him as bullets would’ve. She was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind. Polly had always been more to him than what he ever showed, and the fact she let him down now did hurt him.
Tommy grabbed his gun from his shoulder holster under his suit jacket and looked at it while exhaling. He moved his hand, turning the gun on both sides, looking at it as looking at a let-out.
Nothing would stop him from founder now. He could embrace his demons and play how he wanted.
Following Chapter ❱
#tommy shelby x reader#alfie solomons x reader#peaky blinders#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x y/n#peaky blinders fanfic#thomas shelby x y/n
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meet me in another universe
I wasn’t entirely sure whether to post this or not (and I had some trouble getting it finished), but in honour of ‘meeting’ @dreamy-slytherin a year ago, here’s a fic about five ways VDS could have met, and one way they do :)
~^~
1. Evak/Davenzi Style
Jens is only sitting on the toilet for about two minutes when he hears the footsteps and quiet cursing as someone rattles the door of his stall. He freezes, looking up from his phone with wide eyes. He supposes it’s someone looking to use the bathroom, but then he hears the ruffle of the tissue dispenser on the wall rather than the door in the stall next to him.
He hesitates for a moment, then stands, stuffing his phone in his pocket and opening the door carefully.
Surely enough, there’s a boy standing by the sinks, fiddling futilely at the empty box. Jens only has time to take in ratty converse, light-wash blue jeans and a matching denim jacket before the boy is turning and glancing at him. Jens’s breath gets caught up in his throat at the sight of striking blue eyes and bronze curls.
He’s seen this boy, once. He had passed him in the courtyard earlier in the week, and the boy had met his gaze and continued walking, and Jens was left looking over his shoulder after him and wondering why. He thought it was the unfamiliar face. That could be the reason, now, that something curious and excited flutters in his stomach and urges him, this time, to interact.
“Fuck, sorry, you’re looking for tissues,” he says.
The boy only looks at him as Jens retreats into the stall long enough to tear off a strip of toilet paper. He comes out and hands it to the boy now stood stock still in the dim fluorescent lights, who takes it from him hesitantly. Jens only then notices the damp drips drying into the boy’s pink sweater. The weight of his eyes on the spot seems to be what snaps the other boy into motion, as he immediately begins dabbing at his clothes in an attempt to sop up the water.
“Fountain mishap, or something more embarrassing?” Jens finds himself asking, leaning back against the sinks.
“Uhm.” The boy glances up at him, cheeks tinted red. It’s cute. “Fountain. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Jens shakes his head, smiling, ignoring that this is his first time hearing the boy’s voice and that it’s accented and pretty. “Nah, I’ve been using it for years and it still acts up on me, don’t stress. You’re new.”
It isn’t a question, because now that Jens has heard him speak and the boy had admitted his confusion, it’s obvious.
“That’s why I was supposed to be going to the group thing, but this didn’t feel like the best first impression.” He gestures at his sweater, where the stain has faded slightly but also spread in retaliation.
Jens shrugs. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you. They’re doing trust circles. Hand holding and all.”
When the boy looks at him curiously, Jens explains, “Whatever they’re doing in there is the reason I was in here.”
This earns him a huff of laughter, as the boy tosses his wad of tissue in the bin and glances at the door, then back at Jens. Jens pulls the joint from behind his ear and holds it up for the boy to see, raising his brows. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Jens simply heads out the door and nods for the boy to follow him.
He leads them outside, and finally settles atop one of the tables in the courtyard with his feet on the bench. By the time the boy joins him, Jens has already lit the joint and taken a drag. The boy accepts it when Jens offers it to him and climbs up onto the table himself, shoulders curling against the cold as he brings the joint to his lips.
“What’s your name?”
The boy looks at him and passes the joint back, cheeks and nose red now. “Lucas.”
Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.
Jens lets the name settle for a second and then says, “I’m Jens.”
Lucas simply nods, but he’s smiling as he tucks his hands into his pockets and hugs his jacket tighter around himself. It’s obvious, looking at him, that he’s cold, but he radiates warmth all along Jens’s side. Jens allows himself to shift just an inch closer, imperceptibly, stretching a leg out as he does it in the hope that Lucas won’t notice. But Lucas remains unphased and silent, and Jens misses his gaze and his voice.
“So, who roped you into Amber’s cult?” Jens asks.
This time, Lucas’s laugh is full-bodied and beautiful, paired with a small but brilliant smile as he looks at Jens incredulously. “That would‘ve been Amber herself, but Luca was oddly more convincing. You know them well?”
Jens hums in confirmation, but doesn’t bother offering the story. Instead he says, “It only took me about thirty seconds to realise that’s why I should’ve known better.”
“Okay,” Lucas laughs again. “I feel kind of bad for skipping out. They’ve been very welcoming.”
“Are you in our year?” Jens questions.
Lucas shakes his head. “Sixth.”
Jens furrows his brows, suddenly intrigued. “Transferring in your last year?”
Lucas simply shrugs.
“From Amsterdam?” Jens guesses.
“Utrecht,” Lucas corrects. Then, with a glint to his smile, “I’m on the run.”
Jens whistles. “Amber would’ve loved you sharing that in her party games. She’s gonna be so jealous I got the gossip first.”
Lucas heaves a sigh. “And, test failed. Now I’m going to have to kill you too and hide somewhere else.”
Jens starts laughing in the middle of a drag and chokes slightly, but it doesn’t deter him. He just coughs into his fist and lets his laughter continue, loud in his surprise, smile stretched so wide his cheeks might split. He shakes his head in amusement while Lucas tries to keep his expression stoic, though his lips twitch at the corners. “Come on, if I’d known it was a test I would’ve passed,” Jens protests. “Give me a second chance.”
After an intense staring contest, in which Lucas slowly loses his unimpressed gaze and Jens does his best to look pleading, Lucas is the one to cave. He looks away from Jens with another sigh, smile finally breaking out. “Fine. Since you shared.” Lucas gestures to the joint, and Jens grins and offers it to him again.
Jens thinks the meeting might have been a good idea after all.
2. Elu Style
Lucas shakes his head at Kes and Jayden’s antics, stretching his legs out in front of him and reclining back in the chair, meeting Liv’s pointed look and resisting the urge to offer her a mocking salute. He does, however, allow a smug smile, and Liv simply rolls her eyes and tunes back into the conversation between the girls. Lucas has already blocked them out, and Kes and Jayden gave up their complaining after a mere few minutes, so he hasn’t had to listen to them either. Instead he lets them all fade into a buzz, and only curiously looks around when the door opens again and more students trickle in.
His heart jumps up and lodges itself in his throat.
Amidst the miniature crowd is a tall boy with raven hair and bright brown eyes, whom Lucas has definitely never seen before at this school but is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on.
The boy sits at the edge of the row behind Lucas, caught in conversation with the girl sitting next to him. However, as he settles, he glances around. It’s possible this description of his actions is inaccurate, because in fact his eyes seem to go straight to Lucas’s without taking in any other aspect of the room. Lucas freezes as the boy’s smile seems to grow just slightly, and quickly looks away, focusing his attention back on Engel, who has now begun giving some sort of introduction.
Lucas would be dishonest if he said he took in a word, but he hadn’t planned on it to begin with. He’d just thought it would be due to zoning out rather than an unexpected distraction.
But he’s raptly focused on the rapid beat of his heart, and he can’t help throwing another glance over his shoulder.
Throughout the whole meeting, it’s a repetitive process. Lucas glances over his shoulder and then away again, every time the boy meets his eyes and smiles wider and doesn’t avert his own gaze. Lucas’s cheeks are warm, the heat having crawled slowly up his neck and continuing to spread. He’s glad of the light tan he’d earned over the summer, hoping that it keeps the blush mostly secret. He doubts it, however, especially when he looks back to find the boy’s eyes already on him and his pulse rockets to a worrying speed.
“—cas?”
Lucas tunes back in as Kes elbows him, willing his blush down and letting out a hum. Jayden huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the furrow of Kes’s brow belies his smile. “The girl, last night. What happened?”
“Yeah,” Lucas says, making Kes’s brows raise and Jayden make another noise of exasperation. “I mean, yeah, it was cool.”
Jayden leans in as Kes nods, expectant. “Did you get her number?”
Lucas murmurs a confirmation, and mostly blocks out their cheers and praises. He keeps his gaze on the girls, but still doesn’t know what they’re talking about, still only has one image fixed in his mind and his heartbeat loud in his ears. He glances over his shoulder one more time and the boy is no longer looking at him.
He avoids glancing back for the rest of the meeting and is dismayed to realise the boy has already left by the time he shuffles out with Kes and Jayden. The only saving grace is that they seem not to have minded the meeting much, and don’t give Lucas any shit on their way to the gate, rather talking idly amidst themselves and leaving Lucas lost in his own head. They depart once they make it onto the dark street, both offering him their traditional handshake and a wave, and Lucas turns towards the bus-stop on his own.
Lucas instantly recognises the lone figure beyond the stop, poised in front of the vending machine with his back to the street. The same boy from the meeting. He hesitates as he bypasses the bench and hovers a few feet away, leaving himself with a view of the boy’s side profile and the anxious tap of his fingers over his bag strap. He’s gazing at the vending machine in deep concentration, contemplating his options with more seriousness than Lucas has ever witnessed.
After a moment, in which the boy fails to acknowledge him, Lucas clears his throat. “Twenty-one is the best, in my opinion,” he offers.
He politely ignores the way the boy jumps, though has to purse his lips to stop a smile. The boy looks him over consideringly, then shrugs and slots some coins into the machine before pressing the buttons. The bar falls from the twenty-one rack and the boy repeats the process, watching the one remaining snack fall and then ducking down to dig them both out.
Lucas watches the whole affair in awe and mild offence.
Then the boy turns to him and raises one of the bars and his brows; a silent offering. Lucas simply stares at him, and the boy tosses him the chocolate without a word, and then nods towards the bench.
There’s no reason not to, so Lucas follows with the bar clutched in his hands.
They settle onto opposite ends of the cool seat. Lucas watches as the boy tears the wrapper and takes an experimental bite. He chews, looking out at the street rather than at Lucas, until he swallows and allows a nod. Then he turns to Lucas with the same smile as earlier and simply says, “Not bad.”
Lucas shrugs, letting a smile of his own surface and cataloguing the accent, rather than allowing himself to focus on the boy’s lips. He holds up his own bar and gives it a little wave. “When it’s free, it’s easy to enjoy even more.”
The boy huffs, accepting this with an amused nod before popping another square of chocolate in his mouth. The silence stretches in the time it takes him to swallow, and then he looks at Lucas with a squinty smile and says, “The meeting was kind of weird.”
“Yeah.” It’s Lucas’s turn to huff, his smile growing. “You’ll learn to expect that from Engel. Did you understand what the survey was about?”
“No,” the boy admits with a laugh. He tears the wrapper of his bar a little further and Lucas’s gaze is drawn to his hands. He shrugs and looks back up at Lucas. “Still, it’s cool.”
“The survey?” Lucas raises a brow.
The boy huffs another laugh. “No, but the common room. It’s a good way to meet new people.”
Lucas absorbs this, then tests out his earlier deduction. “You’re new?”
“Started a couple of weeks ago,” the boy confirms.
“Isn’t that a little weird?” Lucas asks. “Transferring a few months before graduation?”
The boy looks at him again, now with raised brows. “Do you just find everything weird?”
Lucas huffs, feeling some of his flush return, but he mimics the other’s expression. “Wasn’t it you calling the meeting weird first?”
The boy accepts this loss with a shrug, smiling at Lucas before setting a square of chocolate between his teeth. “I must be weird too, then.”
“I didn’t mean—“ Lucas begins the protest, but falters when he notices the amused glimmer in the boy’s gaze. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a breath, poking his tongue into his cheek in an attempt to control his smile. The boy laughs, and Lucas shakes his head. “No, I’m sure you’re great…”
He trails off, realising he hasn’t asked for the other’s name. Thankfully, the boy seems to understand, and simply says, “Jens.” He sets his now empty wrapper in his lap and brushes his hands off on his jeans, then holds one out towards Lucas. “I’m Jens.”
Lucas takes his hand somewhat cautiously, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat kick up again. He stashes the name away alongside the smile and the eyes and the accent. Then he returns, “Lucas.”
3. Crisana Style
Jens weaves his way through the crowd and towards the front door, where he’s immediately stopped by the bouncer. Jens holds up his free hand and whirls around to abandon his mostly-empty beer bottle on the nearest flat surface, then finally makes his way into the cooler air. He sucks in a breath and releases it on a sigh, moving along the side of the building to collapse on one of the benches. He leans back against the wall and lets out another sigh, closing his eyes in contentment as he enjoys the relatively silent surroundings.
Then someone says, “Hey.”
Jens starts, blinking his eyes open and turning his head to the left to find a boy sitting next to him. At first, Jens is slightly dubious, because meeting a stranger sitting outside a club in the dark isn’t often a good outcome. But the boy is young, at least, around Jens’s own age as far as he can tell. His eyes are clear, not bloodshot or misty, though he does have a joint between his fingers. There’s an amused, curious curve to his lips as he watches Jens. Jens swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and manages, “Hey.”
The boy raises his brows at him, and Jens swallows and blinks all over again. “I’m Lucas,” the boy says, still watching Jens closely. Jens just keeps staring. “We have literature together?”
Jens’s lips part, and then recognition shines through the alcohol-induced haze. “Fuck, sorry, you’re the new guy.” Lucas huffs, but he’s still smiling and he nods in acknowledgment, flicking some ash off the end of the joint. Jens follows the movement, then returns to gazing at Lucas’s face, and he finds that he’s smiling back. It’s not that he’s been waiting for this opportunity, but, well, he might have spent some time those first few days staring across the room at the back of Lucas’s head and the occasional tilt of his side profile. He hasn’t made any attempts at connecting with Lucas himself, but he’d heard all the stories and felt all the same curiosity. He can’t deny that he’s a little excited, now, to get the opportunity to interact. “I’m Jens.”
Lucas simply raises his brows, his smile widening. “I know.”
It doesn’t make it easy to continue the conversation, but it sends a few rivulets of warmth flowing through Jens’s chest. It’s a curious feeling, and one that he doesn’t want to think much about. Instead he keeps staring at Lucas and watches as he brings the joint back to his lips, taking another drag. Lucas is dressed much more stylishly and a lot less conveniently than Jens. He’s shivering in his dark button-down and jeans, and his hair attempts to flutter out of the neat waves he has lain over his forehead. Jens compares it to his own usual hoodie while realising he’s staring, and then quickly looks away.
He pats down his pockets, eventually finding the small bag in his jeans and pulling it out only to realise it’s empty. He blows out a sigh and stows the plastic away and hears another huff next to him. Lucas’s hand comes into his line of sight, joint held out in offering. “Here.”
Jens takes it gratefully, drawing a long inhale and then stiffening at Lucas’s sound of protest.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lucas orders. “That’s the last of my home stash.”
Jens huffs in understanding, passing the joint back and ignoring the sparks of heat as Lucas’s fingers brush his. “And where’s that? You’re Dutch, right?”
Lucas nods. “I moved from Utrecht.” He flicks some more ash off the joint then hands it to Jens.
This time, Jens takes a small puff and blows the smoke upward, letting it curl into the space between them. Now Lucas’s eyes appear hazy. Pretty. Jens rolls the joint between his fingers and takes another drag when Lucas simply leans back and watches him. Jens looks at him curiously. “Why’d you do that? Move in the middle of the year? It’s a little weird, no?”
He waits for an answer, but Lucas has already lost interest in him, diverting his gaze past Jens with a raised hand. “Wait, this song.”
He looks at Jens excitedly. Jens looks back, listening. He can faintly hear the music filtering through the open doorway, but he doesn’t recognise it. He purses his lips and shakes his head, admitting his confusion. Lucas’s jaw drops and he nudges his shoulder. “Come on. From Romeo and Juliet?”
Jens slowly shakes his head again, biting down a smile as Lucas scoffs and snatches the joint back out of his hand.
“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” At Jens’s denial, Lucas’s smile turns teasing. “I can’t believe you take literature and you’re this uncultured.”
“Hey,” Jens protests, laughing slightly. Lucas’s eyes are very blue. He’s got a ring on the index finger of his right hand. Jens watches it glimmer as Lucas lifts his hand to his mouth for another drag. The joint has dwindled down so far his fingers are almost brushing his lips. “I’ve read Romeo and Juliet.” Plus, he knows Robbe has watched it, and he had sat through a scene or two, but he’d never felt a desire to watch the whole thing. It didn’t feel like his kind of film. He hadn’t thought it would be Lucas’s, either, but he doesn’t know how he’d know that in the first place.
“Yeah, but everyone knows the Baz Luhrmann production is the best version.” Lucas points at him, both brows raised. “You have to watch it before you’re allowed to watch any other new film. Even just for this soundtrack. Look.”
Before Jens knows what’s happening, Lucas is grabbing his hand with the one still holding the joint and pulling it towards himself, pressing Jens’s palm to his own chest, over his heartbeat. Jens sucks in a breath.
Lucas doesn’t notice, eyes bright as he continues speaking. “Do you ever get songs like that? Ones that just move you and you can’t even explain why?”
Jens can’t answer, simply watching Lucas with rapt attention. He’s focused on the soft fabric of Lucas’s shirt crinkling between his fingers, and the thump of Lucas’s heart against his hand, quick but not overly so. He’s focused on the sturdy plane of Lucas’s chest and the soft touch of Lucas’s hand. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears.
Then Lucas lays his free hand over Jens’s chest, in the open gap of his hoodie, splaying slowly over his thin t-shirt. Jens holds his breath and looks up at Lucas’s smile.
“See,” Lucas says softly. Jens half expects him to sound smug, but he doesn’t. He’s just quietly pleased, eyes flicking between Jens’s as if he’s searching for something. “It’s not just me. Your heart’s going faster than mine.”
Jens feels like he should protest. He can’t lie about his heartbeat, because it speeds up even further at Lucas’s touch, but he can explain that it isn’t about the music. He can’t even hear it any more. It has all whited out in favour of the sound of Lucas’s voice and his own pulse. Maybe he had drunk more than he’d thought, or Dutch weed is stronger, but he feels lightheaded and loose. Floaty. Still, he has enough sense to know he can’t tell Lucas the truth. That it has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with him, and his proximity, much closer than it had been when Jens first sat down.
Instead of telling him any of this, Jens simply huffs again, but he’s unable to hide his grin.
4. Nicotino Style
Lucas drums his fingers over his knee and glances away from Engel to his phone. The boy in his peripheral laughs at whatever Janna says, and Lucas purposefully doesn’t look at him, swallowing the desire and getting to his feet. He holds up his phone to the girls in apology and points towards the door, putting the phone to his ear and uttering a greeting. He keeps it up as he wanders down the hallway, trailing his fingers along the wall as he goes, talking nonsense until he makes it into the small radio room and gets the door closed behind him. Then he mutters a curse as a ‘goodbye’ and drops into the lone swivel chair, setting his phone on the table next to the microphone.
He does a few slow rotations, taking in the small recording space with faint intrigue. He glances over the various buttons and tools as he completes his round, leaning forward and hovering his fingers over a few. He looks at the microphone in front of him and then picks up the headphones next to it, settling them over his ears. He leans forward hesitantly and speaks into the mic. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.”
As expected, nothing happens. He clears his throat and settles his arms across the tabletop. “Hallo,” he continues, smiling now. “This broadcast is coming to you from Radio Lieve. Today’s talk will be a lesson on how to grow weed from your closet, a highly recommended practice by our very own Engel Beekman, whom we thank. To start—“
He cuts himself off abruptly as the light flicks on across the window and he sees the boy from the meeting through the glass. He’s all dark hair and contrasting features; sharp jaw and nose, soft eyes and lips. They all morph with his smile, as he leans forward and raises his brows at Lucas. “Why did you stop?”
“Uhm,” Lucas says. His mind has gone blank. “I wasn’t recording, just...messing around.”
“Pity,” the boy sighs, sitting back. “I really wanted to see where that was going.”
Lucas can’t help but respond to his smile. His lips curl up involuntarily even in his surprise. He has seen the boy around, but only once or twice, all within the past week. He doesn’t know why he’s never seen him before that, because he’s sure he would have noticed. Now, though, the accent feels like a hint.
Lucas looks at the boy and the boy looks around the small space. “This place is actually kind of cool,” he admits.
“Yeah, well, the place isn’t the problem,” Lucas explains.
The boy laughs quietly. “What is, then?”
Lucas shrugs, slumping back and swiveling side to side in his chair as he thinks, letting his smile slip into a smirk. “Well, the food for one thing. I’m always up for something sweet, but that cake…” he trails off, grimacing, and earns himself a louder bout of laughter.
“And the discipline guide,” the boy points out. “Scheduled bathroom breaks and a dress code? It’s a radio show.”
This time Lucas is the one who laughs. He doesn’t know why he expected to feel nerves. They are present, faintly, but only as a mild flutter in his stomach and sweat on his palms. Overall, he feels pleasantly surprised and mostly relaxed. He’d half thought someone so pretty would be more intimidating, but the boy looks the exact opposite in his cuffed jeans and worn-out hoodie. Especially with the grin on his face.
He turns it past Lucas all of a sudden and brightens. “Is that the balcony?”
Lucas turns around and glances out the window behind him. “Uh, yeah, but I think it’s closed.”
The boy hums, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side. “Do you think it also shows you how to break into that in this video they talked about?”
Lucas huffs as his smile spreads again. “Probably, but the wifi is terrible here.”
“My phone’s dead,” the boy admits, sighing. Then he raises his brows at Lucas, and holds up a blunt. “Shall we try anyway?”
Lucas raises his brows back and grins.
There are more obstacles than he expects, but the most difficult part is definitely climbing through the broken gate. There’s only one bar taken out, and Lucas thinks if they both weren’t quite as thin, there’s no way they’d make it through. It’s a tight squeeze for the other boy purely due to his height, though he manages with considerably more grace than Lucas. Once they’re finally through, it’s only a matter of trekking up the stairwell and walking out onto the balcony with ease.
The boy whistles as Lucas follows a few steps behind him, looking out at the view. “Damn, this is a pretty nice city.”
“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, vaguely impressed himself. “It’s probably better from up here.”
The boy shrugs and settles himself on the ground, reproducing his blunt and a lighter along with it. Lucas watches as he places the blunt between his lips and lights up, flame illuminating his face in a soft glow for just a second. He looks at Lucas as he’s tucking his lighter back into his pocket, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Do you already know Engel, then?”
“Kind of,” Lucas shrugs. “Mostly through my friend, Isa.”
The boy nods and passes him the blunt, which Lucas accepts with a quiet thanks. “You don’t seem overly excited about this radio thing, though.”
“It’s complicated,” Lucas admits. He takes a drag and it settles his racing heart a bit, but it can only help so much with the boy’s eyes still on him. “You can’t be that into it, either, if you’re hanging out here with me instead of in there.”
“Blame your friend, Isa,” the boy says with a laugh, before groaning as he tilts his head back. “I needed an extra-curricular and there wasn’t too many options. I figured if I could post dumb vlogs on YouTube I could speak on a school radio show.”
Lucas raises his brows and his eyes widen. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, can see it in the boy’s amused expression, but he can’t quite contain his shock or his desire to know more. “You post vlogs on YouTube? Who the hell are you and why don’t I know already?”
The boy laughs again. It’s an unfairly pretty sound. This time, Lucas thinks there’s a faint blush accompanying it. “I’m Jens,” he offers. “I lived in Belgium until a few weeks ago, so I wouldn’t expect you to know me.”
Lucas blinks. He’d already guessed as much, but it’s still strange to hear. “You moved mid-semester?”
“Yep,” Jens says. He steals the blunt out of Lucas’s hand. “I’m the talk of the town. Gotta say it’s a little disappointing you don’t know me, actually.”
“Plus you’re apparently internet famous,” Lucas says, lingering on Jens’s lips as he wraps them around the blunt. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised. That kind of beauty must have garnered some popularity, somewhere.
Jens shakes his head, amused. “I wouldn’t say that,” he dismisses. “But you’re probably going to stalk me anyway now.”
“Absolutely,” Lucas confirms. Jens shakes his head again, laughs again, and Lucas feels the nerves dissipate into an old, familiar warmth, and instead of squashing it down, lets it spread along with his smile.
5. Sobbe Style
Jens walks back towards the house and catches his first glimpse of the boy through the windows. He glances at Jens briefly through the glass, but doesn’t linger like Jens does. Jens keeps looking over his shoulder until he makes it to the door, and then he steps in just in time for the boy to turn around and look at him. They’d come back to the house Amber had rented previously for break, all the same crew with the addition of Senne, but definitely not this boy. This boy is unfamiliar and pretty and Jens would definitely have noticed if he was supposed to be standing in their kitchen.
“Hey,” Jens says curiously.
“Do you know where the sugar is?” the boy asks, ignoring him. “Or the coffee itself?”
Jens blinks. “Uhm.”
“Any food?” The boy huffs when Jens simply continues to stare at him. “Seriously, are you the manager or what?”
Jens is baffled, and he has no hope of hiding it. “What?”
The boy waves a hand, brows high on his forehead. “I made sure this place was a B&B. Honestly, how hard is it to stock a fridge at least? And what about the little free soaps?”
“Sorry—“ Jens starts.
“Are you so careless of your guests that you don’t even provide bottled water?” the boy cuts him off, seeming genuinely incredulous. “Well?”
Jens parts his lips a few times before actually managing to speak, entirely confused and slightly irritated. “Sorry,” he repeats, “but who actually are you?”
The boy holds his stare for another minute and then breaks into a laugh, covering his face with his hand. He peeks at Jens through his fingers. “Oh my god, sorry.” He chuckles. “You really should’ve seen your face, though.”
When Jens only continues to stare blankly, the boy sobers slightly and offers a hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas.”
Jens carefully takes his hand and gives one shake, still feeling lost. “Jens.”
“Yeah,” Lucas smiles, then laughs again. “You probably forgot. I’m Sander’s friend. He told me he did this to Robbe last year, made a bet with me that I couldn’t pull it off with one of you guys, too.” Lucas shrugs. His grin appears only faintly apologetic. “So, sorry, you were just the unlucky target.”
Finally, the name rings a bell. Jens had forgotten that Sander invited anyone on this trip, because in his experience it was odd that Sander had any sort of attention span for anyone other than Robbe. But as Jens skims his gaze over Lucas, takes in the artfully ruffled hair and paint-stained clothing and old-fashioned converse, he kind of understands.
“What makes you think Sander will believe you?” Jens finds himself asking, narrowing his eyes at Lucas in a somewhat teasing gesture. It’s the best way he knows to gain back some traction, here, and settle more firmly on his feet.
Lucas is unfazed. “I have a trustworthy witness,” he says easily.
Jens holds his challenging gaze for only a few seconds before relenting, tucking his hands into his pockets and matching Lucas’s leaning pose against the wall. “Your little act was weirdly convincing, I admit.”
Lucas offers a small smile and bow. Jens doesn’t think he has quite the dramatic flair of his friend, but he has some of the cheekiness, the sparkle and the daunting aura. There’s something inexplicably cool and instantly likable—qualities Jens himself has always envied. Lucas had seemed a little embarrassed after his stunt, but he doesn’t appear shy, instead holding a quiet confidence not unlike Robbe’s.
“How do you know Sander?” Jens decides to question, because he really does get it but he also really doesn’t.
He’s surprised when Lucas simply answers, “The Academy.”
Jens raises his brows. He hadn’t thought Lucas was older than him. “You’re in college?”
“Yeah,” Lucas says, faintly amused. “Not just any college, though. Art college.”
“Yeah,” Jens muses, “that’s much better.”
Lucas instantly flips him off, and Jens laughs and instantly decides that he likes this stranger. He supposes that’s a good thing, considering Lucas is to spend the next week with them, and Robbe would probably be pissed if Jens decided not to get along with Sander’s friends. He can’t help thinking none of them have to worry. He’s actually a little awed by Lucas’s small prank and the guts he had to break it out immediately.
“I thought that meant I was supposed to be the pretentious one, but your hospitality is shit,” Lucas informs him. But he’s still grinning, so Jens thinks they’re probably okay.
“Your little joke was very pretentious, don’t worry,” Jens reassures, although he’s not sure he means it. Nothing about Lucas seems overly cocky or irritating. Pretentious isn’t quite a word that fits.
Lucas simply huffs another laugh and then makes his way around him. He grabs a denim jacket from the sofa and then opens the front door, beckoning Jens after him. “Alright, come on.”
Jens blinks, instantly falling back to his confused state. “Huh?” When Lucas simply raises his brows expectantly, Jens clarifies, “Where are we going?”
“You actually don’t have any sugar. Or water,” Lucas says. “We’re going to buy some.”
“But Sander—“
“Is still locked in that room and probably won’t be out for a while.” Lucas raises his brows pointedly as Jens tamps down a grimace. “Do you have anything better to do? Unless you want to stay around and listen, which,” Lucas pulls a face, and the start of a laugh bubbles out of Jens again.
“Robbe’s my best friend, so, no thanks,” Jens explains, mimicking his expression. “I’m in the same boat as you.”
Lucas nods, pleased, like this is information he already knew. Jens supposes he probably did. “So?” Lucas presses. “You coming?”
Jens glances at the sofa, where he could spend the morning lazing around on his own until all the couples emerge and let Lucas wander about the town on his own. Then he looks back at Lucas and the stark blue of his eyes now paired with his denim jacket, still watching Jens back expectantly.
Jens follows him out the door without another word.
+1
Lucas is too lost in his own head to notice the person coming towards him until he collides with them.
The breath is knocked out of him and he stumbles off his skateboard with a curse. Another low voice accompanies him, and the owner’s quick reflexes are the only thing that stops him from tumbling out into the street. A hand grips onto his shoulder and steadies him, and Lucas lets the weight ground him until gravity regains its hold on him.
“Shit, sorry,” Lucas says, finally looking up at the person he’d barelled into. His breath escapes him again at the sight. It’s a boy roughly his age, but with a few inches on him, as well as an overwhelming amount of beauty. There’s no other way to put it—Lucas has long ago begun to acknowledge the attractiveness of every male he meets, and he has no doubt that this boy is utterly gorgeous.
It complicates all of his already messy thoughts. Especially since the boy still hasn’t released Lucas’s shoulder.
He’s staring back at Lucas, skimming his gaze down his frame as if checking for injury. “I think neither of us were watching where we were going there,” the boy admits, laughing slightly as he meets Lucas’s eyes. “You okay?”
Lucas has to take a moment to gather his words. “Yeah,” he breathes. Then he clears his throat. “Thanks.”
The boy huffs and finally (sadly) drops his hand. “What, for almost running you over?”
“No.” Lucas blinks, managing to shake himself out of it enough to smile. “No, I mean, for the hand.”
The boy nods, then tucks those hands in his pockets and curiously tilts his head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucas nods, but the boy immediately continues, “I can’t find a way to make it up to you?”
“I thought it was a mutual collision,” Lucas points out, then immediately wants to smack himself. It’s not every day he sees a gorgeous boy, never mind bumps into one. Beyond that, this boy hadn’t immediately left, when he could have easily cursed Lucas out and left it at that. Instead he’s still talking, and offering more, and Lucas is stupid. He should not be trying to put the boy off. He has no idea what he is supposed to do.
It doesn’t seem to matter, because the boy merely shrugs. “Yeah, but you looked more in need of a hand than me.”
Even Lucas isn’t stupid enough to argue with that.
“Can I ask your name, at least?” the boy tries.
That’s usually a good place to start, Lucas thinks. “Yeah, sorry. Lucas. You?”
“Jens.”
Lucas tucks the information away with a nod. He almost expects Jens to offer his hand again, this time to shake, but instead he gets another curious tilt of the head.
“Where were you headed?” Jens questions.
“Uhm.” Lucas blanks. He isn’t out with a destination in mind—only the departure had felt necessary. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not familiar with anywhere yet.”
“You’re not from here?” Jens questions. He doesn’t seem surprised, though, as if the answer is already obvious, which it probably is. Lucas shakes his head anyway. Jens actually seems pleased with the information. “Let me show you around a bit, then. Might at least stop you from taking down anyone else.”
Lucas thinks he should feel mildly offended, but he can only smile in response. “If you can show me somewhere with good desserts, I’ll fully consider you a life-saver.”
Jens accepts this challenge with a small laugh, and turns around on the street to face the way Lucas had been heading. He leans down to pick up his board and collects Lucas’s while he’s at it, passing it over to him after a brief damage check. “No bodies or boards seem to have been injured, so that’s something.”
“Internal damage, though,” Lucas finds himself arguing. “Wounded pride that can only be healed by the unhealthiest mound of ice cream.”
“Seriously?” Jens laughs again. “Okay, I can manage that.”
They start down the street, and Lucas wonders if this is weird. He’d just crashed into Jens, and the boy is apparently taking him for ice cream. That’s not something strangers do, is it? Not even strangers in Belgium. Not anyone without an ulterior motive. He glances at Jens out of the side of his eye and tries a subtle examination, but it’s not as if he thinks Jens is dangerous.
He honestly just can’t quite believe his luck.
“Don’t freak out,” Jens huffs, and Lucas does his best not to blush. “I’ve seen you at school.”
Oh. “You have?”
Jens hums. “You’re in class with Robbe, right?”
Lucas is. The name instantly rings a bell, because Robbe is one of the few people that had bothered to introduce himself to Lucas over the past week. His first week adjusting to Antwerp. He nods.
“He mentioned you,” Jens informs him. “Pointed you out one day by he lockers, but you disappeared before we could talk to you.” Jens smiles over at him. “I was hoping I’d get another opportunity.”
“You were?” Lucas asks, disbelieving. “Why?”
“Well, I can’t have Robbe having first access to all the gossip,” Jens laments. “That’s supposed to be my job.”
Lucas still doesn’t quite understand, but he knows how to joke. “So you’re inviting me for ice cream because you’re nosy?”
Jens nods seriously. “That is exactly it.”
They look at each other for a minute, walking slower, before they both crack up in a laugh. Lucas wonders if Jens is actually telling the truth and it just happens to be funny, or if he knows how to work a conversation to alleviate all awkwardness and tension. Either way, Lucas is grateful. He’s also slightly disappointed in himself, for being so unsure of his new surroundings that he’d prevented Jens from being able to meet him sooner.
“I haven’t seen you around,” Lucas admits. He knows it’s the truth, because he would have remembered. “But I haven’t spoken to all that many people yet.”
Jens hums, frowning slightly. “It’s hard, moving this late, and especially after missing the first few weeks of the year. I’m sorry no one’s tried to make it easier for you.”
Lucas doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s probably his own fault. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I guess now someone is.”
At this Jens grins, nodding in acknowledgement or acceptance; it might as well be admittance. Lucas decides that he doesn’t care, as long as it’s accompanied by that smile and Jens’s continued presence.
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howdy tas!!!! i know nothing about 911 but you deserve to talk about your blorbos so!!! for the buck/eddie asks, 7, 12, 14, 25?💛💛💛
jamie have i told you recently that i love you? 💓 this genuinely made me so happy, thank you 💖
7. name three of your favourite buddie fics and shout out the authors if you want!
this fandom has the most amazing fics narrowing it down to three is almost impossible but here goes nothing:
@LAFD_Overheard in which the entirety of Los Angeles ships the two idiot firefighters who can’t seem to catch a hint
to look and be seen by @princessfbiwhich is a rwrb au. do i even need to say more?
Leave the Light On (I will be coming home) by @hmslusitania is my favourite fic in the whole fandom and i reread it like at least once a month
(+ honourable mention to Autowrecked because eddie v technology is the funniest thing to come out of 911)
12. any predictions for 5b?
oh SO many. the number of possibilities with eddie being dispatch... the limit does not exist. so buck gets hurt on a call with eddie being on the other side painfully aware that buck is in danger but not being able to do anything except say his name again and again bcos he’s not there to have buck’s back like he promised - no vowed - years ago? like if that doesn’t happen what is even the point! and with the theme of children getting hurt that has been running all season, it has to cumulate to christopher getting hurt and eddie not being able to do anything except trust that buck will get to their son and protect him, which would inevitably have to lead to a conversation about the will! I also think at least one person from the firefam will also find out about the will. and now that we have the fire at dispatch confirmed I think eddie is going to spend the whole time saving people without a stitch of protection or gear (eddie’s very own tsunami arc!) and realise that being a firefighter is who he is, and no matter how much he tries to ignore that part of him he can’t. and also make some uncomfortable realisations about his own mortality and the fact that quitting firefighting does not guarantee his safety, which I think will ultimately lead to a conversation about the shooting with both chris and buck, and the season will end with eddie officially coming back to the 118.
14. what song(s) do you associate with buddie?
like every taylor swift song ever written?
ok lol forever winter is THEE buddie song, esp the s5 arc (hence the 3 different edits I currently have in drafts ALL to this one song). this love is my no 1 buddie first kiss song, and I even wrote a whole fic about it. I also think pancakes for dinner by lizzie mcalpine is a great buddie song, as is home by 1d and helplessly by tatiana manaois.
25. what is your ideal confession scene?
ive got two versions - a show version and a fic version/my ideal version. the show version I think they would do something dramatic, but I don't want it to be after a near death experience or anything. for buck, who has spent his entire life harming himself because he thinks people only care about him when he is dying, I don't think a death bed confession is good for his character. when eddie finally confesses (because in my head its eddie who takes the first step - eddie finally gets to choose his own happiness, and buck finally gets to hear someone say they love him and mean it) I imagine it to be a quiet moment. they’re in eddie’s kitchen, eddie washing the dishes while buck puts chris to bed and buck walks in and just starts putting the dishes away on autopilot, without having to even think about it. and eddie at that moment is struck with the realisation that all along he has been making a home with buck. it’s not just about the kitchen that buck uses more than eddie does. it’s about buck’s jacket hanging on the coat rack beside eddie’s, and the throw that smells of buck because thats the one he always uses on movie nights, and the nearly finished bottle of oat milk in the fridge that only buck drinks. and it isn’t a new realisation by any means, Eddie has known he loves buck for some time now, has known buck is a part of his family for even longer. but in that moment, that realisation knocks him off his feet and he starts seeing visions of a future he has never let himself imagine, and he cant go a single moment longer without saying it. and when he does, he waits for the panic to set in but it doesn't because he feels happy and content and light in that moment. he knows he and buck have been leading up to this moment for a long time.
#thank you for asking and listening to me ramble I know none of this acc means anything to you lol#ily hope you're doing well!#buddie asks
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engagement party | c.h.
Your engagement party with Calum goes off without a hitch and questions about the wedding get answered with grins and full hearts.
1.3k words
dates with cal masterlist
Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).
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Thousands of blooming flowers surround you, stems and petals and fairy lights creating a demure glow to the night. People linger all about and Calum stays at your side. The ring on your finger glimmers under a full bright moon as friends and family come up to congratulate you both and take a peek at the opal and flecks of diamond. You wear a smile that doesn’t go away and Calum matches you, eyes crinkling and hands squeezing yours. He’s dressed up but not as much he will be for the wedding, images of him in a proper tux invading your thoughts. His parents and Mali even made it to the party, Calum flying them out without a second thought after the night he consoled you and promised you he and his family were your family now.
Michael and Luke come up at the same time with their partners on their arms and genuine happiness for the both of you on their faces. Small talk ensues about the wedding before Calum clears his throat and gives them both a knowing look.
“You’ll both be in my groom’s court?” Calum asks though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have to. They’re his brothers and would never say no.
“Obviously,” Luke says and claps Calum on the back. The unasked question of one of them being the best man doesn’t phase either of them. You’re pretty sure everyone knows who that will be; there’s no envy or hard feelings about it. You’re also pretty sure they’ll all circle around to each being a best man for each other at some point.
“Couldn’t stop me even if you tried,” Michael joked, the entire group laughing but knowing the joke was quite honest. “I really didn’t know this day would ever come,” Michael continued, a teasing air to his tone. “Until the day he came back from your first date. Then I figured it would happen eventually.”
You go warm through a night breeze at Michael’s admission and look to Calum who only smiles at the told truth. The bench you sat on for your first date is just ahead of you, memories of sweaty hands and blushing cheeks, gentle small talk, a walk home and an even more gentle kiss on the cheek flood you. Calum quietly recounts that day to the group who coo at the memory. The botanical garden is the perfect place to celebrate the engagement. It had been in Calum’s plans since he decided to buy you a ring and ask you to marry him. Ashton comes through the small crowd suddenly, a glass of sparkling cider in his hands and amusement in his eyes.
“I told Calum to propose to you here,” Ashton says with a shrug. “Not that it would’ve happened that way anyway,” he says with a knowing eye. You go flush at the comment but Calum pulls you closer, fits you under his arm and shakes his head. The night of the proposal had been a bit of a disaster but a yes and the next day had made up for it tenfold.
“I wanted to save it for this… and the wedding…” Calum trails off and looks at you. “If you’d like that?”
You’re nodding before words of confirmation can form. He’s smiling. The group rings in with their approval and comments of how beautiful that will be. “I would. Can we? Is it possible?” You inquire. The engagement party being here during closing hours is one thing, but a wedding during business hours is another.
“I’ve already looked into it,” Calum confirms with a nod and dips down to kiss your cheek. “But we can look for other venues too, just to be sure.”
You shake your head. You’ve already got images of the wedding here in your mind. The crowd of close friends and family mingling with flowers and lights helps to bring the picture alive. A wedding arch where the bench you first sat would be divine with blossoming marigolds behind you, possibly even intertwined into the lattice work of the arch you can conjure up in your imagination. You don’t want to be married anywhere else.
“No, this is perfect,” you say, mind made up without needing to venture anywhere else.
The group starts to disperse so other people can congratulate you but Calum holds Ashton back.
“I gotta ask you something,” he says and makes Ashton pause and turn back around to face you both. You already know the question that will pass Calum’s lips. “Would you be the best man?”
Ashton’s grin is splitting, dazzling against the background of highlighted flowers. He nods through his words. “Of course. I’m so happy for you two,” he says and pulls you both into a hug with his drink splashing around the rim at the motion. Ashton and Calum both choke back what could be tears.
“Thanks mate, for everything,” Calum says as you realize how much Ashton has done for Calum and for your relationship with him. He was the one to fly to London with him to help pick out the ring with Mali, the one to help plan the proposal that accidentally happened twice. You have no doubt he will be the best best man.
“Anytime,” Ashton promises and steps away so Calum’s parents and Mali can take his place.
You have your own question to ask Calum’s sister. As soon as she’s in hearing distance you’re blurting it out—a lot less practiced than Calum’s question for Ashton—and she’s nodding as she wraps her arms around you, forcing Calum’s hold from you in favor of hers.
“I was wondering if you’d ask me to be the maid of honor,” she said as she pulled away from the hug.
“I told her you would,” Calum comments and throws his hands up in surrender when you give him a look for ruining the surprise. “She wouldn’t drop it. I had to tell her,” he defends and Mali corroborates for him.
“There’s no one else I’d want up there with us,” you promise much to her delight and satisfaction.
Mali and Calum’s parents wish you both well and move on for others to come through but you pull Calum aside when you want a moment alone. Crowds—even small ones with only people closest to you— have never been your favorite. You need a moment to catch your breath and calm down, Calum’s presence always helpful in those endeavors.
“Doing okay?” He questions, concern evident in gentle brown eyes.
“Yes,” you answer honestly, you are okay, you’re overwhelmed with happiness at what the future holds and all that this party means. You sigh, unsure you can put that into words. Instead you settle for, “I can’t wait to be married.”
Calum smirks. “I can’t wait for the honeymoon,” he says and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. He’s delicate with you and his words are enough to get you to laugh. You needed this moment alone with him more than you first realized.
He wraps his arms around you and kisses the side of your head in your moment of being alone with him and bliss. Your friends and family linger out in the garden while you soak up Calum’s affections and jokes.
“Will you ever tell me where this honeymoon might be?” You wonder aloud, Calum having told you he had it taken care of.
“No, that’d ruin the surprise,” he says. “Just trust me.”
“I do,” you reply and grin at the word choice you will be saying again soon enough. Calum catches it too and smiles along with you. I do isn’t so far away and you know those words will last forever.
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If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!
Based on the dwc prompts: “Will you be the best man?”, “I can’t wait to be married”, “I can’t wait for the honeymoon” and @outerspaceisbetterthannothing message: Engagement party in a botanical garden they had their first date (where Cal planned on asking her to marry him originally). Everything is in the lights and looks magical. Ash mocks her how he ruined a perfect proposal they spent weeks organized. His family is here (he had no doubts and flown them out), she asks Mali to be her maid of honour and says how she’s always wanted a sister. And Cal is happier than he ever though he could be.
Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @goth5sos @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @superbloomirwin @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @notinthesameguey @lukesfuckingbeard @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @drarryetcetera @another-lonely-heart @megz1985 @idk-harry @dinosaursandsocks @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @karajaynetoday @333-xx @calumshpod @calumsphile @calumrose @justhereforcalum @grreatgooglymoogly @calumance @mantlereid @hemmingslftv
#Calum hood blurbs#Calum hood imagines#5sos blurbs#5sos imagines#Calum hood x you#Calum hood x reader#5sos x you#5sos x reader#Calum hood fluff#5sos fluff#cal!dates#cal!engagement
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Angela’s “Baby Shower” - a The Rookie Fanfic
At 35 weeks pregnant Angela was over it. She was sick of always having to run to the bathroom. She was done with the fogginess in her brain interfering with her work. She was over the sore back and hips and feet that came from carrying an extra 30 pounds in her abdomen and she was tired of being so tired after being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. But mostly she just no longer wanted to feel so different. She hated being too exhausted to go out with her friends after shift and even if she was feeling up for it she always had to get water while everyone else got their cocktail of choice. She was frustrated at being unable to bend down easily when investigating crime scenes and having to rely on others to find all the evidence. She also disliked the attention she got because of her pregnancy. Everybody always seemed to be looking at her belly, asking her when she was due, how she was doing and cooing about the joys of parenthood. She was excited about the baby and couldn’t wait to meet her little bundle of joy but she also craved normalcy, to just feel like herself and be a part of the group instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. So when Wesley pitched the idea of a baby shower to celebrate her and their little one, yet to be born, she vetoed that idea fast and hard. When she shared her reasoning her Fiancé nodded.
“I understand where your coming from but you actually gave me a really good idea for a baby shower that I’m sure you’ll love. Do you trust me?” he asked.
She had nodded and agreed to let him throw her a baby shower with the caveat that she could pull the plug at anytime.
Which brought them to the day of the baby shower, a Saturday, two weeks later.
Wesley had kept the entire thing a surprise so Angela was thoroughly confused as she watched him unpack a number of crates and garbage bags from the truck and bring them into the downtown park where she sat.
“What is all this?” She asked.
“You’ll see,” he replied giving her a wink. “Once everyone gets here.”
20 minutes later everyone was there. Lucy, Jackson, Tim, Nolan, and Harper. Grey wanted to come but had to work.
“Welcome everyone,” Wes announced, “today we will be competing to see who is the most badass pregnant person.” At this point everyone including Angela was looking at Wesley like he had grown a second head but he pushed on. “There will be three challenges: an escape room, laser tag and a contraction simulator and you will be divided into two teams. Angela as our guest of honour you get to pick your two teammates.”
“Nyla and Lucy,” Angela said immediately. She still didn’t really understand what they were doing but she had the feeling girl power was the way to victory.
Lucy and Harper excitedly moved over to Angela, giving each other high fives.
“Guess that means we’re a team,” Nolan said draping his arms around Jackson and Tim’s shoulders.
“Great,” Tim replied rolling his eyes. Angela wasn’t sure if he was mad because she didn’t choose him or because he wasn’t on the same team as Lucy either way she was looking forward to kicking his butt.
“OK now the last thing to do before we start the competition is to pregnify everyone,” Wesley stated.
“I feel like I should make some sort of joke about how babies are made but I think I’ll wait to see where you’re going with this,” Nolan offered.
“First everyone put one of these on,” Wesley said as he reached into a garbage bag and brought out a handful of wrap baby carriers which he handed out. Once everybody had theirs on he opened the lids of several storage containers.
“Now everyone, come grab a balloon and put them in your carrier.”
“Wow these are heavier than I expected. What’s in them?” Jackson asked as he lifted a balloon out of the tub.
“They’re full of water and some sand,” Wesley answered, “and they each way exactly 30 lbs, the average amount of weight gained in pregnancy. I weighed them myself.”
“Is that why you asked me where the scale was the other night?” Angela asked
Wesley confirmed before moving on. “Next everyone grab a hoodie to put over your bundle of joy,” he said opening another garbage bag.
“It’s at least 80 degrees we don’t need hoodies,” Tim complained.
“It’s to replicate the heat generated by a growing baby,” Wesley replied, “plus I had a lot of fun with them.”
Tim rolled his eyes but obediently put on the last hoodie.
All the hoodies were bright neon colours (Lucy pink, Harper purple, Jackson green, Nolan yellow and Tim blue) and had pregnancy announcements written on the front in thick black letters: ‘Baby on Board’, ‘Coming summer 2021’, ‘Eating for two’, etc.
“There’s one for you too if you want it Ange, but you don’t have to wear it,” Wesley said. “Now the last thing, well things,” he added bringing out a bottle of Benadryl and stack of medicine cups, “since I can’t give you brain fog I’m just going to make you drowsy. Everybody take a medicine cup and wash it down with one of these,” he said opening a cooler lid to reveal a stack of 1L water bottles, “the whole thing.”
“I’m going to have to pee so bad,” Lucy joked as she started to drink her water.
“That’s the idea,” Wesley replied.
They spent the next 20 minutes finishing their waters, waiting for the Benadryl to kick in and admiring their new ‘bellies’.
Angela laughed as Jackson yelled “belly bump,” while running then jumping towards Lucy who met him in the air before the force knocked them both off their feet. She laughed even harder watching them try and fail to get up on their own until Wesley came to help them. She happily accepted a belly bum from Jackson once he had taken them down a notch (or several) as did everyone else but Nolan who was excessively protecting his fake fetus, shielding his stomach with his arms and body whenever anybody approached. Angela watched her friends, thoroughly entertained by their antics. She was especially enjoying the effect a visibly pregnant Lucy was having on Tim. He was constantly stealing glances at her and when she smoothed her hoodie over her stomach and asked him how she looked his cheeks flushed and Angela was pretty sure she heard him stutter. This was confirmed by Nyla who had come up beside her and after a quick poke at Tim started reminiscing about her own pregnancy with Lila, which got the two woman talking and comparing notes. She was vaguely aware of Lucy who had taken her phone out and was now taking pictures and videos of everybody but didn’t fully turn her attention back to the others until Wesley said it was time for the first challenge: the escape room.
They walked to the escape room place which was only about a block away with minimal whining and a lot of perplexed looks from passers by. Once they got there they split into their teams and went to their respective rooms. The girls’ room was sorcerer’s lair themed and overall they got through it pretty smoothly. They had a few bumps in the road: by 20 minutes in they were all crossing their legs trying to hold their pee, Lucy fell asleep once while sitting at a table trying to decode a message and Nyla debated trying to use one of the magic wands in their room to pop her balloon. “Now I remember why I only had one. This was not easy,” she said as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. But overall they worked together really well and had a lot of fun just talking about anything and everything as they solved all the puzzles and escaped the room.
When the girls were done, after a quick trip to the bathroom, they joined Wesley in the control booth to watch the guys via video and they seemed to be having a much harder time. Jackson was trying to decode the message Lucy had but was becoming visibly more and more frustrated as he rubbed his temples and verbally demanded and pleaded with his brain to work. Nolan was trying to bend down to open a trap door (Angela had opened theirs with a broom handle) but couldn’t quite reach it without nearly falling over. After many failed attempts he eventually used the chair as a support bar to lower himself to the ground then push himself back up once the door was open. Meanwhile Tim kept swearing under his breath as he accidentally knocked various things off shelves and tables with his fake belly when he forgot how far out it reached. Luckily one of the things he knocked off opened when it hit the floor to reveal a key they needed to escape the room, which Nolan was able to retrieve with his new chair technique. Shortly after, Jackson succeeded in decoding his clue and from there they proceeded to finish the room pretty quickly and easily.
After another bathroom break they headed to the food trucks for a quick lunch where they mostly sat in content silence as everyone happily shovelled food into their mouths. This silence was only punctuated by the occasional comment that was either gloating or trash talk or by Tim barking “What are you looking at?” at people eyeing the group.
Next they headed to laser tag. Which Wesley had booked privately, so they had the whole place to themselves. The rules were simple every time you shot a member of the opposing team your team earned a point. First team to 30 won. Everybody seemed to have a good time. Angela laughed at her friends as they tried to sneak up on or out run each other, both techniques that were being significantly impacted by their fake pregnancies. Nolan at one point declared that the more aggressively you waddled the faster you could go and spent the rest of the game darting around like a mad penguin. He was ultimately successful in getting 6 points for his team using this technique which was significantly more than the 1 point he got before implementing it. Jackson on the other hand found a good hiding place in a high traffic area and would shoot the opposing team anytime they came by. Although initially this strategy was very successful and he quickly racked up 10 points, once the ladies realized their vests always lit up red when they passed that area they made a plan and were able to all find and corner him in his hiding spot. By the time he got away they had got 10 points themselves. Tim tried to use a lot of the same techniques he used at work or at paintball but unfortunately for him, although they were efficient Lucy knew all of them and was able to use that knowledge to her advantage. The girls took a different approach and worked more as a team. They used some techniques from work and also had fun designing and implementing crazy plans, including one of them acting as bait to lure the guys in and the other two blind-siding them. When all was said and done the guys won 30-29. The girls attributed this to Tim and Nolan’s height advantage. They were able to see over all the obstacles but it could also be that the girls were having a little to much fun making elaborate plans that weren’t necessarily the most practical (the gun tricks looked cool but significantly decreased their shooting accuracy). Nonetheless, Angela had the greatest total points with 16.
Following laser tag everybody was really happy but also extremely exhausted and they outright refused to walk the ten minutes back to the park despite the fact that because they were downtown it would take twice as long to drive their in traffic. While everybody went pee again Wesley walked back and brought the van.
“I call middle row,” Harper yelled as Wesley pulled into the parking lot.
“Me too,” West added.
Angela took the passenger seat which left Nolan, Lucy and Tim to squeeze into the back row. Because Lucy was the smallest she was forced to take the middle seat but it didn’t seem to matter to her as she fell asleep almost immediately and spent the 20 minute ride leaning against Tim, head on his shoulder. They woke her up once they were back at the park but only after they had taken a couple pictures.
Once they all got out of the van Wesley told them they could take off their hoodies and fake bellies. Tim and Nyla quickly took off their stuff and helped Wesley set up for the labour simulation. Meanwhile the three newly minted P2’s goofed around. Nolan pretended to be giving birth taking quick breaths and squeezing Lucy’s hand as he pushed his balloon out the bottom of the carrier where Jackson caught it. Then working together the three of them lifted the balloon above their heads and belted out ‘The Circle of Life.’ Following the end of their song they too quickly shed their layers then went to join the rest of the group gathered in front of a folding beach chair that had been set up.
“Alright everyone welcome to the final and tie-breaking event,” Wesley announced.
“Tied?” Angela questioned. “We beat the guys by at least half an hour in the escape room and they only beat us by one point at laser tag. We are winning.”
“That’s not how this works babe. But don’t worry because you will be sitting this one out because you have to go through real labor in a couple weeks, I will be taking your spot and I will make sure your team wins.”
“You better,” Angela replied teasingly.
“Alright this is the labour simulator,” Wesley explained holding up a small device, “We stick these electrodes to your stomach and this machine will deliver electricity which will result in fake contracts that range in intensity from 1-10,” he pointed to a dial on the machine. “According to the instruction book 1 is like mild period cramps, 4 is Braxton-Hicks contractions, 8 is full blown labour and 10 is just full blown torture. Whichever team can tolerate the highest combined score wins. Oh and tolerate means experience that setting for at least ten seconds without ripping the leads off your body. Any questions?” When everybody shook their heads he continued. “Who wants to go first?”
“I will,“ Jackson offered making his way to the chair. Wesley stuck the electrodes to his abdomen then he was ready to go.
He jumped initially on the first setting since he had no idea what to expect but after that he was pretty calm just clenching his jaw as the pain was increased. That is until he got to 6.
“Can I hold somebody’s hand?” he asked, “That’s a thing, right?”
Both Lucy and Nolan immediately stood up.
“How about two hands,” Nolan suggested seeing this.
“Even better,” Jackson replied intertwining his left hand with Nolan’s and his right with Lucy’s.
This was enough to get him through 7 and 8 as he channeled all his pain into his friends, crushing their hands, but one second into 9 and he immediately pulled the leads off.
“Great job Jackson,” Wesley said as everyone patted him on the back, “Who’s next.”
Lucy went next and didn’t so much as flinch until 5 at which point she decided she was going to try meditation. This helped her through 6 and 7 at which point she too wanted hands to squish. Although both Jackson and Nolan offered, Lucy’ teammates decided it was their job. Between crushing her friends hands and focusing on her breathing she got through 8 rather easily. She clearly struggled more with 9. Jackson, Nolan and Wes were counting down. “Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven,” Angela felt Lucy’s grip loosen in her own. She was going to pull off the leads that is until Tim spoke up, “Come on Chen. You’ve got this. You’re strong,” he said and Lucy’s grip tightened back around Angela’s. “Three, Two, One, Done.” Everybody cheered as Lucy released her team mates hands and opened her eyes. “Sorry team but that’s enough for me I’m not trying 10,” she said as she removed the electrodes from her stomach.
“You did great,” Angela said and patted Lucy’s shoulder.
Tim went next. Rather than closing his eyes he fixed his glare on the machine in Wesley’s hand as if he could intimidate it in to giving up. He also refused to hold anyone’s hand and instead gripped the armrests of the chair. By the time he got to 8 he was gripping so hard he broke the arm of the chair but still some how managed to maintain a near neutral expression throughout the entire experience. At this point Lucy insisted on holding the hand that had broken the chair. When he pointed out that he was worried he would hurt her she stubbornly grabbed his hand in both of hers, “I’m strong, remember.” With Lucy’s help Tim too made it through 9 and like his former rookie decided to end it there.
Harper went next. Although she was clearly in pain she was able to do 10 by focusing on her breathing, holding her friends hands and thinking about Lila.
“How did you do that?” Jackson asked awe in his voice.
“When I was in labour with Lila I had contractions that were at least the intensity of 8 that lasted a minute each for like eight hours. One ten second one is a piece of cake.”
“You didn’t have an epidural?” Nolan asked
Harper shook her head, “I was being stubborn. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.”
“You’re very impressive, but I have nothing to prove to anyone. I’m getting an epidural,” Angela offered.
“You do what’s right for you,” Nyla replied patting her friend on the back, “ You’re going to do great.”
Nolan went next. He was practically jumping out of the chair by the time it got to 6 and at 7 he was writhing around so much he actually managed to tip the chair over. The fact that he ended up in a tangled mess on the ground was probably the only reason he made it through 7 without ripping the electrodes off. He did his best on 8 but despite having everyone around him either holding his hand or holding him down he only made it five seconds.
“OK the guys got 7+8+9 that’s 24. We already have 19 so all you have to do is get through 6 babe,” Angela said to Wesley.
It should have been easy. The pain wasn’t that bad, but it was in his abdomen and it was just a little too similar to the pain he experienced when he was stabbed. He was starting to get flashbacks but he wanted to do this for his fiancé, the love of his life and mother to his unborn child. He was going to do this for Angela even when she told him it was OK, that she understood, that he didn’t need to push through this trauma for her but he wanted to. So despite the fact that his whole body was pale, we was dripping with sweat, dizzy and short of breath with tears streaming down his face he pushed through his ten seconds at 6 with steely determination. At this point Angela pulled off the electrodes for him then pulled him into a hug. All her friends wrapped themselves around the couple and they stayed like that until Wesley was feeling better.
“I didn’t get any prizes so bragging rights will have to be enough,” Wesley admitted.
“The day was prize enough,” Lucy offered, “I had a blast, we should do stuff like this more often.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to rub it in?” Jackson asked.
“Not a chance,” she replied.
“How about because we won we get to meet the baby first?” Nyla suggested.
“That’s fair,” Angela agreed, “but what do I get?”
“Presents,” Nyla said handing Angela her baby shower present.
After Angela opened her presents which mostly consisted of clothes and books and toys for the new baby everybody headed home to get some rest.
“Thank-you,” Angela said giving Wes a quick kiss, “For today. I really needed it.”
And she meant it. She had been feeling alone, helpless, and inadequate. But today reminded her about all the people who love her, about the strength that comes with working together. It reminded her that it’s ok to be imperfect, stressed, struggling but also to be goofy, to let loose and have fun. After today she finally felt like her self again and that woman was going to be a great mother.
#the rookie#therookiemidseasonmadness#angela lopez#wesley evers#lucy chen#tim bradford#nyla harper#jackson west#john nolan#I have no idea what this is or why I wrote it
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how can you claim to be ot5 and a shawol for so long yet your spreading lies and misinformation about the “legal” stuff over jjong. it’s a FALSE narrative and you’re being an SM apologist. Do better.
I’m just going to ignore that you called me a ‘bad’ fan and I’ll just move on to the ‘legal’ stuff you claim I’m lying about. For what purpose would I be lying even? SMent is not the greatest company I’ll admit and they have definitely fucked up before, but you can’t shove anything you didn’t like into their shoes, especially when you don’t know what goes on behind the scenes.
I’m putting the rest under the cut because this will be pretty long and I don’t want to spam everyone.
Now it is true that there are no publicity laws in Korea and they’re lacking for sure. But there are laws relating to it. This website explained it pretty well:
1. It is the right to keep one’s image/likeness from being commercially exploited without permission.
2. Unlike “right to privacy,” this right is more of a “property right.”
3. Most often, public figures such as celebrities decide to seek legal remedy for infringement.
4. Factors for Consideration: a) Did the person pictured/photographed give permission? (express or implied) + b) Was the photo/picture used commercially (e.g., to promote one’s business)?
5. Infringement is not a crime. It is a civil matter. The infringer could face tort liability. Sometimes, infringers “get away” because the pictured/photographed person was: a) unaware of the infringement, or b) aware but could not be bothered.
But you can also check the law, it’s Article 17 of the Constitution.
As Jonghyun is not there to defend himself, this task would fall on his next-of-kin, meaning his mother. So as you can read above they can’t use one's image/likeness without their permission.
It is true that the laws are lacking and they haven’t always held up in court, especially if it doesn’t affect the person negatively. However the laws do exist and legally they are supposed to ask for permission.
Can I confirm they did ask permission? Of course not but you can’t confirm it either but they should be doing it.
Aside from the legal stuff I want you to also consider some other things that goes into involving Jonghyun in any future SHINee content.
What do the members want? And what would we want?
I’m aware your point is that you want Jonghyun to be involved in more stuff and I understand you want to remember him that way but there are several ways to remember Jonghyun.
Please consider what involving Jonghyun means to them. They have been very vocal about remembering Jonghyun and they will do it and continue doing it but you have to allow them to do it on their own time and on their own terms.
Remembering him is important but it is also painful. We can’t demand from the SHINee members to leave him in all the time. If you saw the ODG interview, there were immediately questions and we can’t assume everyone knows. Minho had a difficult time but he handled it pretty well. Onew was so close to crying and he had such pain on his face. I don’t want them to go through that frequently and they should do it on their own time. There are also a lot of non-shawols that love to use Jonghyun for their "grief porn". These are easy to pick out most of the time but including him in more products that don’t necessarily involve him makes that more difficult. I don’t want people to just use Jonghyun for their narrative and to buy stuff just because of it and not because they like SHINee or they want to honour Jonghyun.
Grief is incredibly difficult and something I've talked about before. We shouldn't judge how others choose to grieve Jonghyun (I mean legit grieve, not whatever non-shawols do). Not only other shawols but most of all the members. We don't know what they decided on and the last thing I would want is that they would have to defend their choices. I want them to feel safe to grieve Jonghyun and if we can't respect that as shawols how can we expect people outside the fandom to do that. The fact is we don't know what was decided and whose decision it was but there is some legal background for it and we have to consider the input from all parties involved. We can speculate on what was decided but you can't just use SM for a scapegoat because they didn't do what you wanted. I'm always open for discussions but if you are planning to insult me, don't bother.
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Last Chapter: For The Rest Of My Life
(from the My Girl Series: Stay Mine)
…in which they live happily ever after.
Word count: 5.9k
AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n (4-year age gap).
Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)
This is it, guys. This is the last chapter. Thank you for following my beloved characters on this long journey. I never would have written three books without your support! :)
Love, Allie.
P/S: The first preview of TCTM2 - The Winter and the Crown (and first chapter on Patreon) is this Friday! I’ll postpone the new series until after TCTM2 so it’ll be updated weekly instead of biweekly :)
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“And they lived happily ever after. The end.”
“No!”
Celine shot her head up. Y/N could see her friend’s shocked expression in the mirror. “Excuse you. That was a great speech!”
Y/N apologised to her makeup artist, spun her chair around and told her maid-of-honour, “I love you, babe, but your speech was an hour-long. While you were reading, Allison has managed to finish yours, Amala’s, Alice’s, and my makeup. So it needs to be shorter.”
Celine stared at her paper as she blew out her cheeks. “But this is the complete story of how you and Harry got together.”
“Well,” Alice, who sat in the corner, finally spoke. “You might want to skip the whole love triangle drama last year.” She paused, gazing upward. “And the year before that. My God, Y/N!” Alice whipped her head to Y/N, her mouth wide open. “You got three men chasing after you in two years, became a best-selling author, and now you’re getting married after having been engaged for only a month to your super hot, super rich, super famous boyfriend! Talk about being ambitious!”
“Three months, actually,” Amala interjected. She was sitting beside Y/N, looking at her phone. “When she broke the news, Cece and I thought they were rushing the wedding because she was pregnant. As it turned out, they were just too in love to wait.”
“What the fuck? Your life is perfect!” Alice exclaimed.
Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not. When he proposed there wasn’t even a ring!” And turned to Allison. “Can’t you believe my ex-boyfriend forgot the ring when he proposed?”
“You need to stop calling your fiancé ‘ex-boyfriend’,” Celine said.
“I don’t care. I want three hot men to fight for me,” Alice said.
“Don’t envy me. I’ve only dated three men in my life,” Y/N said then turned back to the mirror, “and today is my wedding day, so can we not make this about them?”
“Of course, baby,” Celine chuckled as she rose from her seat and came to give Y/N a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll make my speech shorter, but we'll keep the part where you read the story about Harry in front of the whole class and you and I became friends.”
“Sure.”
“And also any other part that I was in.”
“Fine.” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes.
Celine gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze then bent over to press her cheek against Y/N’s, their eyes locked in the mirror as they shared a smile. “Now, let’s get you into that dress, baby.”
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“Rings? Where’re the rings?! WHERE–Oh, they’re on the desk.”
“Niall!” Harry and Isaac shouted at the same time.
Niall stared at them. “What?!”
Harry gave his tie a hard tug. To Isaac, he said, “I’m seriously considering making you the best man.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Niall objected as he shoved the ring boxes into his pocket. “You,” he jabbed at Isaac with his finger, “are my understudy today. So don’t even think about trying to sabotage me to take my place.”
“The stage’s all yours.” Isaac spread his arms. “To be honest, it’d be really weird if her ex-boyfriend was the best man at her wedding.”
Harry cast him a pointed look. “Can you not make me want to uninvite you right here right now?”
“You can’t. I would be your sister’s plus one anyway.”
“Damn it,” Harry murmured, looking back at the full-length mirror.
This was nerve-racking and kind of strange. Never had he thought one day he’d be standing in his childhood bedroom with Niall and Isaac let alone getting ready for his own wedding here. When imagining his wedding, he’d thought of something in the range of Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra’s wedding and the royal wedding for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. And yet, here he was, in his hometown with a guest list of under fifty people. And he had never been happier in his entire life.
“Can you check if the rings are in the boxes?” he told Niall and sighed in relief when Niall confirmed that the rings were safe. “Can’t be too careful. The day I proposed to her, I left the ring in my hotel room in New York. It was really embarrassing.”
“Y/N doesn’t care about this stuff,” Isaac said.
“I know,” Harry replied, feeling a grin taking over his face.
Suddenly, Niall burst out a laugh. He looked up from his phone, grinning goofily. “Harold, Alice just texted me a photo of your girl, would you want to see it? It’s really funny.”
“Is she in the wedding dress?” Harry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then no. It’d be bad luck.” Then he cast Niall a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m superstitious. Judge me.”
Isaac’s brows knitted as he considered Niall with a tentative look on his face. “What’s going on between you and Alice?”
Niall’s smile suddenly vanished, and Harry realised he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Niall so nervous. The lad was rubbing the nape of his neck as he cleared his throat and was unable to make eye contact with either of them. “We’re not...ready to make it public yet,” he finally admitted. Harry and Isaac looked at each other, smiling with their mouths wide open. “My fans will tear her down just as they did to my other relationships. And after what happened to you and Y/N, I think we’re gonna lay low for a while.”
“I’m glad Bambi and I went through hell to set an example for you,” Harry said amusedly.
Niall’s mouth curled. “I’ll make sure to thank you in my speech.”
“Hold on!” Isaac interjected. “I thought I’d get to have a speech.”
“I’m the best man, though,” Niall retorted.
“That’s the point. You’re already the best man.”
“Niall’s right.” Harry gave Isaac an apologetic look. “But hey, you dated my wife and you’re dating my sister. Our friendship is on thin ice, so don’t jinx it.”
Isaac rolled his eyes, and a smirk peaked at the corner of his lips.
Without warning, Niall wrapped an arm around each of them and aggressively tugged them into a hug. Both Isaac and Harry scolded him for having wrinkled their best suits, yet neither tried to break out of Niall’s tight embrace.
“I’m so glad we’re back together,” Niall said. “The three of us, without all the weird tension between you two.”
Isaac opened his mouth to say something but was forestalled by Niall’s ringtone.
“I’ll be right back,” Niall said as he released them and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, that’s the firework guy.”
Harry and Isaac yelled at the same time.
“The what guy?”
“What the fuck?!”
“Niall, this is supposed to be a secret wedding,” Harry said in frustration. “I don't want the whole town to know that we're getting married in our backyard!”
“You should have said that before I called my firework guy!” To the person on the phone, Niall said, “Cancel! Cancel! No, do not light it up!” Then he dashed out of the room, almost slamming into the door.
Once his heavy footsteps had faded down the stairs, Harry and Isaac exchanged looks and broke into laughter.
“You know what?” Harry said, catching his breath and wiping a single tear from the corner of his eyes. “Just in case he gets himself blown up before the ceremony, you probably should prepare the best man speech.”
“I’m on it.” Isaac grinned, and to Harry’s surprise, he pulled Harry into a hug. Not just their usual one-arm-and-a-pat-on-the-back kind of hug. A real one, with both arms and a firm grip that said everything Harry needed to know. “I’m really happy for you and proud of you, H.”
Harry found himself beaming as he hugged his best friend in return. “And I’m really happy to have you here.”
They embraced for a second or two before Isaac broke off and straightened Harry’s jacket. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said. “Now I have to go save Niall from getting blown up in your backyard.”
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When Y/N was little, she had wanted her mum to be the one to walk her down the aisle. Between her parents, she had always loved her mum more, simply because her mum had been there for her for most of her childhood. Y/N’s mum had been her first best friend, her advisor, the person who had known all of her secrets. But if Y/N’s mum were still alive, she would be glad to let her husband walk Y/N down the aisle.
Y/N’s dad burst into tears when he stood by the front door and watched her descend the stairs. It was the first time he’d seen her in her wedding dress. She’d had it altered so it’d look more casual than what a wedding dress should look like. The long sleeves had been removed and the skirt shortened. It was quite plain, perfect for a backyard wedding, and yet her dad was looking at her like she was the Queen of England. Perhaps in his eyes, she was. And as he wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, she felt her tears start flowing too.
Her dad rarely cried. At least not in front of her. She remembered how much she’d loathed him for not shedding a tear at her mother’s funeral. It wasn’t until years later that she’d found out that he had cried, just not in front of everyone. He’d slept with a photo of her mum every day for many months after the accident, and cried himself to sleep every night, for the woman who had fallen out of love with him.
Y/N supposed her dad used to think tears represented vulnerability and if she’d seen him at his most vulnerable, she wouldn’t have trusted him to be her protector. He’d tried to be strong in front of her. But Dad, this is you being strong for me, she thought when she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. He could have left when he’d found out her mum hadn’t been faithful. He could have given up on Y/N when she’d tried to push him away. But he’d stayed. Because brave people never gave up on the ones they loved. And she believed he loved her most of all.
“I’m sorry. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” her dad said, holding her face. “You’ll get two black lines on your pretty face like in the movies.”
“My makeup is waterproof,” she told him, laughing and sniffling at the same time.
“Why don’t actresses in movies use that stuff?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.
“You’re such a dork.” Y/N snorted and wiped his cheeks with her thumbs.
Her dad’s forehead creased. As he took in the sight of her, his eyes lingered on her short white dress. Recognition suddenly dawned on his face. “Is this—”
“Yes. It was Mum’s,” she said, fanning out her skirt. “I made some alterations. Do you love it?”
Her dad brought a hand to his mouth and was speechless for a long moment. She wasn’t sure if he was looking for the right words to say, or he was too emotional to speak.
“You look just like her,” he whispered as he held her arms, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry she wasn’t here to walk you down the aisle.”
“Don’t be,” Y/N said, fixing her dad’s collar. “I’m already the happiest to have you give me away.”
“Give you away,” he echoed, and even though his expression remained unchanged, she could catch a sign of sadness and regret. Then, the corners of his mouth raised in an attempt to lift up the mood. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to cancel the wedding.”
Eyes wide, Y/N chortled. “Dad!”
“I’m just saying.” Her dad gave a half-shrug. “I want you to know that your old man always supports your decisions, no questions asked.”
“Thank you,” she murmured and kissed him on the cheek. “But I’d still like to marry Harry.”
“Ahhh. You know you’re getting old when your child starts being kind to you.”
Y/N scrunched up her nose at the remark which stung her heart a little. Still, she decided to be light-hearted. “Funny. Harry told me it was me who was getting old when I started being kind to him and you.”
Her dad raised both eyebrows. “You know what? Forget what I said. Do not cancel the wedding. I love that kid.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and gave him a playful nudge.
Suddenly, Celine emerged from the kitchen holding a bouquet and shoved it into Y/N’s arms. “Your flowers, babe. Good luck!” It was hilarious how she looked even more nervous than Y/N was, and Celine had been a bride before.
She kissed Y/N on the cheek, patted Y/N’s dad on the shoulder and then left as fast as she’d arrived.
Y/N’s dad offered his arm to her as the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy. “Shall we?”
She nodded, chin held high, and settled her fingers into the crook of his arm.
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The last time Harry had been to a wedding in Holmes Chapel, he’d returned to London with a broken heart. It was the day he’d thought he’d lost his girl forever, that he’d been too late and missed the only chance to make it right. And now here he was, back at the same place, but this time, he was the groom and his childhood best friend was the bride.
He and Y/N had decided to get married right where the old tree used to be. The new one hadn’t grown big enough to cover them in its shade, but Harry liked the symbolism of it – there was never really an ending, just another beginning.
He stood at the end of the aisle as the guests settled down, waiting for the bride to make her big entrance. His palms were sweating so hard he could feel it soaking through his jacket which he’d been clutching the whole time. In his entire acting career, he had never felt self-conscious standing in front of a crowd, and yet, standing here in front of the people he knew and loved, he could barely move a muscle.
The music started, and Harry straightened like a soldier. He met his sister’s eyes in the front row, and she mouthed at him, ‘You look stupid.’ His mum, who was sitting beside Gemma, shot her a pointed look before mouthing at Harry, ‘You look handsome.’
He gave his family a tight smile as he laced his fingers together in front of his crotch, like a nice little boy waiting for the photographer to take the photo. He supposed he did look stupid. He felt stupid. However, the fear didn’t last for too long, because as soon as the gate to Y/N’s backyard opened and she appeared with Bradford, Harry felt as if there were fireworks exploding inside his chest. Time stopped. And the rest of the world disappeared.
She was wearing her mother’s dress. He knew that because she’d told him when he’d offered to find her a famous wedding dress designer. She must have made some alterations to it, and as excited as he’d been to see her wear it for the first time, it didn’t shock him as he’d thought it would.
When he looked at her, in that white chiffon dress with her hair in a high bun and that big smile on her face, he could see the little girl in a tutu, and he was the little boy who waited by the car with her parents after her first ballet class, because she’d insisted that he came with them to pick her up that day. Then Harry saw the little girl with daisies in her pigtails; she’d made him play house with her and they’d had a fake wedding. That little girl, now older, was a princess for a school play; she’d practised in front of him so many times that he remembered all the lines and mumbled along as he watched her from the third row with her parents. Then she was at a school dance; they hadn’t been talking but he’d watched her in silence just to make sure her date didn’t cross the line. Then there was the girl at the Oscars; messy hair, messy makeup, out of breath, still the most beautiful girl in the room. The girl in his bed, the first face he saw in the morning, no makeup on. The girl with tears running down her face as she said yes on that windy roof. The girl who was drunk in the streetlight, red-faced, smeared mascara as he told her he loved her for the first time. The girl at the entrance of his treehouse; older and taller every time she returned. The girl telling him she’d given up on him for good. The girl telling him she’d love him forever.
He loved every single one of those girls. Y/N was a million girls in one; all were his. And he loved every version of her there had ever been, and every version there would ever be.
His eyes prickled with tears as she reached for his hand, and the first thing she said to him as the music stopped was, “Are you crying?”
“No, there’s something in my eyes,” he said, smiling at her. “Are you?”
“Yes, I am.” She nodded, staring heavenward and blinking back the tears as she tried not to laugh and cry at the same time. Harry almost leaned in and kissed her right then but then he remembered he would have to wait for the priest to say, ‘You may kiss the bride’. He’d meant it when he’d said he was superstitious. He didn’t want to bring bad luck to their wedding. Niall was already an exception.
As the backyard fell to silence and the priest said something Harry did not hear, he couldn’t stop beaming down at his bride and mouthed “I love you” as if she hadn’t got tired of those words already. She mouthed them back, as if he hadn’t got tired of them. Well, at this point he didn’t think it was possible to ever get tired of hearing or saying them.
“Psst, Harry!” Niall’s voice pulled him back to reality. He blinked fast. Everyone was staring at him. “Your vows!” Niall said.
“Right, right. Just a sec.” Holding up a finger, Harry frantically searched in his jacket for the speech he’d prepared last week. His cheeks heated as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and flashed his teeth at Y/N, who was staring patiently at him.
He held up a fist at his mouth and cleared his throat. “Forgive me if my vows are generic and badly-written.”
Laughter crackled from the guests, and Harry decided to focus all of his attention on his Bambi. It’d feel less weird if he was saying this to her instead of trying to impress their families, although the way her father looked at him was really intimidating.
He blew out his cheeks, shook his head and began, “I...wanted...to write something cheesy...something like ‘I always knew we’d end up together’ or ‘I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you’. But that wasn’t how it happened. Because when we first met, you were only nine, and you cried a lot so I didn’t really like you.”
Someone, probably Y/N’s stepmum, awwwed out loud. Y/N tilted her head, scowling at him, and he shot her an apologetic grin before he continued.
“It wasn’t love at first sight, or second, or third. But I think that’s the best part of our relationship. There wasn’t an exact moment where we fell in love. Our love grew as we did. It was always within ourselves even though I realised it a bit late and I let you down. Despite all that we’ve been through, you’ve always been by my side, and you’re the only person who loves me unconditionally.” His eyes searched his mum and Gemma. “Alongside my mum and sister.”
The guests cracked up as Gemma, with her arms crossed, mouthed, ‘I don’t love you,’ at Harry. Ignoring her, Harry turned back to Y/N. “You make me a better person–” And wiped his eyes. “You can call me a crybaby later.”
“I will,” she said as her fingers found his.
He squeezed her hand. “I cannot promise that–that I’ll be perfect, because everyone who knows us knows that we are far from perfect. But I vow to always try to be the best version of myself and love you for as long as I live. I’ll be your best friend, always listen to you, take care of you, always make you proud, and whatever obstacles are thrown in your way, I’ll face them with you.”
This time when a sob broke from someone’s lips, it was Y/N’s old boss, Eddie.
Y/N placed a hand on her heart as her bottom lip quivered. Tears shone in her eyes but she wasn’t crying like a baby like him. She released a nervous laugh, glancing at their families and friends. “I’m embarrassed. My vows probably suck compared to yours.”
“No way,” he murmured, not sure if she heard him.
She sucked in a breath, held her smile, and began. “Harry, I’ve never told you this, but when I was nine, I told Celine that I wanted to marry you when I grew up. I asked her to keep a secret because my mum had said that if you told too many people about your dreams, they would never come true.
“At nine years old, my biggest dream, beside being a writer, was to marry the boy next door. And I can now tell everyone about that dream, because after today, we’re gonna go home together and the boy I’ve loved since I was nine years old, is gonna be my husband.” She took a step forward, pressing his hand to her heart. “I vow to be by your side through sickness and health, through your bests and your worsts. I vow to never lie to you, never give up on you. Thank you for making me a better person. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”
“That was so much better than mine,” Harry whispered, smiling so big his cheeks began to ache.
They exchanged rings, and then Harry’s heart started thundering as the priest looked at him. “Harry, do you take Y/N–”
“I do,” he said without taking his eyes off Y/N, who was beaming like the sun. “Yes, a million times.”
“Y/N–”
“I do.”
Harry believed he’d heard the priest sigh, yet he hadn’t paid attention to know for sure. Then came the words he’d been waiting to hear. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
His arms could not catch her fast enough since hers had wrapped around his neck as she locked her lips to his. He pulled her against him, tipped her head back and kissed her like he had the first time at that same spot. This time, in the cheering of their family and friends.
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The wedding reception was also held in Harry’s backyard. By the time Niall and Celine had finished their long speeches, everyone had been starving. After the meal and a few drinks, Harry had forgotten what Niall had said about him in that speech, still, he was grateful for Niall. He hoped the firework guy was having a good time being their uninvited wedding guest.
Their first dance was to the song Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran. Harry had picked the song and Y/N had joked about him listening to sappy music, but she’d cried when he sang the words into her ear as they danced with her cheek pressed against his chest and his chin on top of her head.
That every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear
Oh we're in love aren't we?
Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby
Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her, but he was so upset when the song ended and he had to let her go so she could dance with her dad. His disappointment didn’t last for long because his mum was also a fun dance partner. After two dances, Isaac and Harry’s two cousins stole him away to do some shots. As the drink burnt his throat, he heard someone speaking into the microphone. They didn’t have a band or a stage so Harry didn’t even know they had a microphone. From the looks on Isaac’s and his cousins’ faces, he knew they had no idea what was happening, either.
“Hi guys, I’m Niall.”
“Oh my God,” said Harry’s cousin as he clasped Harry’s shoulder. “What is he doing? Is he drunk?”
“I’ll get him.”
“Stay exactly where you are, blondie!” Niall stabbed a finger at Isaac and all eyes shot at the poor lad. Isaac raised his hands and stepped back. It was then that Harry realised the firework guy wasn’t the only uninvited guest. Niall had brought his whole band. “I’m not drunk,” Niall said, nodding at his guitarist. “I have a little present for my two best friends.”
Harry caught his wife’s eyes from a distance, and she mouthed at him, ‘Do you know about this?’
‘No,’ he mouthed back.
“I wrote a song, inspired by their relationship. If you haven’t read Y/N’s book, I’m an important part of their love story.”
Isaac arched an eyebrow as he took a sip from his glass of champagne. Harry saw Y/N smiling with her mouth open, clinging onto Celine’s arm. She hated surprises so Harry was very relieved that she didn’t seem angry at Niall.
“The song is called ‘Black and White’,” Niall said as he put on his guitar. “I just thought black and white would be like the black suit and white dress and it would become a bit of a wedding song. I was getting a bit nostalgic with it and the song is basically about first love, when you're a teenager and you're like, ‘That's it, me and you are getting married.’ It's got a very happy feel to it, like a stomping driving tune. I think it might be my favourite on my next album.”
“He’s really using my wedding to promote his album,” Harry said, sounding more surprised than he actually was.
“Classic Niall,” Isaac chuckled, shaking his head.
Niall signalled for his band, and someone dimmed the lights in the yard as the song began with a guitar intro.
That first night we were standing at your door
Fumbling for your keys, then I kissed you
Ask me if I want to come inside
'Cause we didn't want to end the night
Then you took my hand, and I followed you
Isaac and Gemma were the first couple to step forward, and the others soon followed, gathering in front of the ‘stage’ and rocking to Niall’s song. Harry met his wife halfway in the crowd, and before he could say a word, she took his hand and pulled him into her.
Yeah, I see us in black and white
Crystal clear on a starlit night
In all your gorgeous colours
I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life
See you standing in your dress
Swear in front of all our friends
There'll never be another
I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life
“He didn’t have secret cameras installed around here, did he?” Y/N shouted over the music as Harry spun her around and drew her back in.
“Why?” he asked, laughing.
She cupped his face, bringing their foreheads together. “To film a music video. Because I would shave his head. Or Alice’s head. Which one do you think would hurt him more?”
Harry’s jaw dropped as he hugged her waist. “Just as I thought I could not love you any more.”
I want the world to witness
When we finally say I do
It's the way you love
I gotta give it back to you
I can't promise picket fences
Or sunny afternoons
But, at night when I close my eyes
I see us in black and white
Crystal clear on a starlit night...
“Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes closed.
“Yes,” she said. “Never been happier. I love you.”
“I love you, too. So, so much,” he mumbled into her hair. Suddenly, they were swaying on their own, just them two, under a starry sky.
I see us in black and white
Crystal clear on a starlit night
In all your gorgeous colours
I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life
See you standing in your dress
Swear in front of all our friends
There'll never be another
I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life
.
.
.
.
.
.
(Three years later)
“Daaaaaad!”
Y/N burst into her father’s reading room and found him sitting in his swivel chair with a book in his lap. Outside, the sun was setting. Dust was drifting and dancing in the soft warm light filtering through the stained window. Bradford closed his book as he spun around and narrowed his eyes at her. “What happened?”
“I think I lost her,” she said, still out of breath.
Her dad jumped to his feet. His expression went from confused to shocked to horrified in one second. “How did you lose a child?!”
“I don’t know. I was writing and then she–Hey, Marcy!”
Y/N’s stepmother, who was standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the reading room, cast her husband a tentative look before raising an eyebrow at her stepdaughter. “What are you doing here? Harry and Minnie were looking for you.”
“Oh!” Y/N started though she’d tried her best not to look so relieved. “S-She’s with Harry?”
“Yeah. I saw them down by the lake behind the school.”
“Great. See ya!”
The door swung shut, and Marcy looked to her husband. “She lost Minnie again, didn’t she?”
“Yup,” Bradford sighed. “I’m worried.”
“Don’t be,” Marcy smiled as she rubbed his arm. “I’m sure she’ll be a great mother.”
.
.
.
Bambi dropped her bike as soon as she found Harry by the lake, tossing rocks into the water to impress the two-year-old sitting on the tire swing. He’d hung that swing for Minnie at the beginning of last summer and promised that when the tree in his backyard was big enough, he’d build a treehouse for her.
Dry leaves crunched beneath Y/N’s boots as she made her way toward them. When Harry saw her, his smile glowed as bright as the sun behind him.
“There she is,” he said and picked up Minnie. “Say hello to your irresponsible big sister.”
“Shut up,” Y/N snorted.
“Shut up!” Minnie told her, happily. Minnie was still learning to talk so she would repeat everything.
Harry, with a smug look on his face, tugged slightly at Minnie’s little pigtail. “You’re on my team, aren’t you, Min?”
“You’re setting a bad example for her,” Y/N said, smirking at the inseparable two.
“I didn’t lose her.”
“I was writing. I got distracted.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head. To Minnie, he said, “Now, Minnie, would you be so kind as to tell your sister who’s my favourite girl?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but then her half-sister surprised her by throwing her tiny arms in the air and said, “Bambi!”
Harry chuckled and kissed Minnie’s chubby cheek.
“Did you teach her that to impress me?” Y/N asked.
“Yeah.” As Harry leaned in to kiss Y/N on the mouth, Minnie covered her eyes with both hands and said, “Yuck!”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she watched the two of them. She had waited for the special moment to break the news, but seeing her husband and Minnie together, she knew she must say it now.
“Don’t get too attached to this one,” she told him while stroking Minnie’s pink cheek. “Our baby might get jealous.”
Harry snorted. Y/N pressed her lips together.
His face dulled. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Harry’s mouth opened so wide Minnie must have thought he was playing. She burst out laughing, hugging her stomach. Her bright high-pitched laughter made Y/N laugh, too. Then all three of them were just laughing together, not knowing why, and yet they couldn’t stop.
When they finally did (and were on the verge of tears), Harry rubbed a palm over his face, his forehead creased though his grin never faltered.
“Wow. I can’t believe it.” He turned to Minnie. “Min, I’m a dad now, and you’re an aunt. You’re only two years old and you’re an aunt! Such big responsibilities for both of us, don’t you think?”
Minnie didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she could see the elation on his face so she started clapping like a baby seal. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Now I have to share your love with another girl.”
“How do you know it’s a girl?”
“My maternal instinct said so.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I want it to be a girl so I can teach her the things my mum taught me.”
Harry broke into a smile as he brushed Y/N’s hair out of her face. “Girl or boy. You know you’ll always be my number one.”
She took his hand and kissed it. “And you are mine.”
This time, Harry had to cover Minnie’s eyes as he went in for an open-mouthed kiss. His lips were cold against hers yet her face burnt as they broke apart.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit,” Minnie repeated happily.
Y/N smacked Harry on the arm and the kid once again shook with laughter. “Look what you did!”
“Sorry!” Harry pointed a finger at Minnie’s little nose and said in a baby voice, “Do not copy Harry. That’s a bad bad word.”
“Harry!” Minnie said and pressed her lips to his cheek. Y/N was so confused when Harry told her Jeff was calling then turned off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.
“Work can wait,” he said before she could ask. “Now I belong to you and Minnie.” Then he touched Y/N’s belly. “And also little Harry or little Bambi.”
Smiling, she told him, “You’ve only known that you’re a dad for like two seconds and you’re already acting like one.”
“What can I say? I can take on any role.”
He put Minnie back on the swing and wrapped his arms around Y/N, drawing her close. She hugged his waist and buried her face into his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating in sync with her own.
THE END.
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Before All Hell Breaks Loose.
The Underworld. (Surrounded by the Sea of Lost Souls, two men sit at a table opposite each other playing a game.) Hades: (Moving his piece across the board:) "And I believe that's checkmate." Facilier: (Slamming his fist on the table:) "Damn! Let's play again." Hades: (Chuckles:) "When will you learn, Facilier. You can't defeat me." Facilier: "I will find a way, believe me." Hades: "You forget who you're talking to. I know all your tricks. Why I bet I can predict what your next move will be before you've even thought of it." Facilier: "I would not be so sure, Lord Hades." Hades: "Oh have it your way. (Waves his hand and resets the board:) Just remember, Facilier, you cannot cheat death." Facilier: “I’ll bear that in mind.” Evil Queen: (Striding towards them:) “As will I.” (Rising quickly from his high-backed chair, Hades turns to face the Evil Queen as she leads a legion of former Dark Ones into his chamber.) Hades: "Well well, if it isn't the Evil Queen. At last we meet." Evil Queen: "Clearly my reputation proceeds me." Hades: "Oh you have no idea. (Looking beyond her:) And I see you've not come alone. Nimue. Zoso. Dark Ones all. It's my honour to welcome you all to my kingdom." Evil Queen: "And you are?" Hades: (Smiles:) "I am Hades, Lord of the Underworld." Evil Queen: "Charmed." Facilier: (Clears his throat:) "Lord Hades. What about our game?" Hades: "Come now, Facilier, where are your manners? Can't you see I’ve suddenly become quite busy. Besides, you've had enough humiliation for one evening. Leave us. (Facilier stands, picks up his hat from the table and exits the chamber, making sure to steer clear of the Dark Ones:) Now, where were we? Ah yes. Seeing as there are so many of you, perhaps it would be best if I saw you all in small groups. Would you care to take a seat, Your Majesty?"
Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (While Regina talks with Henry and Violet, Emma sits alone at a booth when Zelena approaches.) Emma: (With Zelena glaring at her:) "Do we have a problem?" Zelena: (Scoffs:) "Don't you have something to say to me?" Emma: (Looks down:) "Zelena if there was anyway I could undo what I did then-" Zelena: "Oh save it, Emma. All I want from you is an apology." Emma: (Nods:) "I-I'm sorry, Zelena, I truly am." Zelena: "Thank you." Emma: "If there's ever anything I can do to-" Zelena: "Actually, there is something." (Overhearing the conversation, the Charmings move closer towards them.) Emma: (Stiffly:) "All right." Zelena: (Spares the Charmings a smile then returns her attention to Emma:) "I'm going to find my daughter and bring her home with me. All I need you to do is keep Regina off my back." Emma: "What do you mean?" Zelena: (Rolls her eyes:) "Regina and Robin made me promise that I would only be able to see my baby girl when either of them were present. I want you to convince them that's no longer necessary." Mary Margaret: "Zelena, this isn't the way to build trust. What if-" Emma: (Cutting in:) "I'll do it." Zelena: (Smiles:) "That's all I needed to hear." (With that, Zelena waves her hand and disappears in a cloud of green smoke.) David: "Emma, are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Emma: "I'll handle it." Regina: (Walking over:) "Handle what?" Emma: (Smiles:) "Nothing that can't wait." Regina: (Returning the smile:) "Good. (Taking Emma's hands in her own:) Time to go home." Emma: (Glancing over at their son:) "What about Henry?" Regina: "He's going to stay and talk with Violet for awhile." Emma: "And you're okay with that?" Regina: "I think it's fair they say their goodbyes before they're both grounded." Emma: "Regina-" Regina: "Shh. That's a conversation for another time. For now, I'm taking you home." (Emma sees the earnest look on Regina's face and nods before they're both enveloped in their own cloud of smoke.)
Mills House. (Reappearing outside on the door step, Regina leans in and gives Emma a soft, chaste kiss before turning and unlocking the front door. Allowing herself to be led inside, Emma's momentary confusion at arriving outside the Mayor’s mansion is replaced with understanding as they make their way silently up the long winding staircase. With each step, Emma feels herself being welcomed back home. Her suspicions are confirmed when upon reaching the bedroom door, Regina places another chaste kiss upon her lips. Moving over to the bed, Regina motions for Emma to take a seat. Slowly, Regina kneels and carefully removes each of Emma's boots, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. When Emma reaches for her, Regina kisses her once more before heading swiftly towards the bathroom. Laying back on the bed, Emma listens as the sound of running water is heard. Before too long, Regina reappears in the doorway and beckons Emma over with a wave of her hand. With the gentlest of touches and the utmost care, Regina proceeds to remove the rest of Emma's clothing before helping her into the bath. Lowering herself into the water, Emma gives Regina a questioning look but Regina merely rolls up her sleeves, kneels beside the tub and begins to wash Emma's hair. Not knowing what else to do, Emma closes her eyes and surrenders to the sensation of being truly cared for and loved, unconditionally. All too soon, the bath is over and Emma finds herself being reverently toweled dry by Regina who still has yet to speak since they entered the Mayor’s mansion. Returning to the bedroom, Emma perches herself on the bed and watches while Regina removes her own clothing. Then, reclined on the bed together, they share soft, delicate kisses before Regina begins to move slowly down Emma's body. Feeling utterly loved and relaxed, Emma absentmindedly asks a question that has clearly been on her mind for awhile.) Emma: "Were you smart in school?" Regina: (Lifts her head from Emma's chest:) "What?" Emma: "Did you even have school in the Enchanted Forest?" Regina: (Confused by this line of questioning:) "I... had a tutor growing up. My father would often sit in during my lessons and watch quietly in the corner." Emma: "Yeah?" Regina: (Nods:) "I remember whenever I would glance back at him he would always give me the most brilliant smile." (Regina shifts her weight to lean on her elbow beside Emma.) Emma: (Smiling:) "What was your best subject?" Regina: "I was good at everything." Emma: (Laughs:) "Of course you were." Regina: "I do remember doing very well at spelling and seeing my father cry tears of joy whenever I managed to spell a difficult word." Emma: "That's nice. I wish I could've met him. What was he like?" Regina: "My father? (Emma nods:) He was the sweetest man I ever met. He was probably too sweet. Humble. Loving. He grew up a prince and so we had land and position, but... he was soft. Just too sensitive and he couldn't really handle my mother." (Regina rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling.) Emma: "And your mom?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Mother was very beautiful. Very motivated and ambitious, often to the detriment of those around her. She was very smart. But cold." Emma: "I didn't get to spend much time with Cora and none of it was what I'd call pleasant. But I could tell she loved you very much, in her own way." Regina: (Nods:) "She did. There are times when I miss them both so much. When I was little and couldn't sleep, I'd always ask my father if I could sleep with him and he never refused." Emma: "I know you haven't been sleeping. (When Regina looks at her:) Henry told me he caught you in the kitchen more than once cooking long past midnight." Regina: (Shakes her head:) "I couldn't sleep. Not when you were out there alone, because of me." Emma: "Regina, I chose to save you and I would do it again, without hesitation." Regina: "I know you would, but that doesn't make it any easier. When the Darkness took you away... it was just like losing my father all over again." Emma: "Hey, you and I just destroyed the Darkness together. You will never lose me, because I'm not going anywhere, you got that?" Regina: (Smiles:) "Loud and clear." Emma: "Good. Now I think we both could use some sleep." Regina: "Mm. Agreed." Emma: (Snuggles in close and kisses her deeply:) "I love you, Regina." Regina: "I love you, Emma." (While Emma settles down beside her, placing a protective hand across her chest, Regina stares at the ceiling for a few moments more lost in thought, before closing her eyes and finally falling asleep.) The Underworld. Hades' Chamber. (Hades and the Evil Queen are seated, discussing how she came to be in his domain.) Evil Queen: "So, with the help of Snow White of all people, Regina injected herself with this serum she purchased from the Dragon and our souls split right down the middle." Hades: "How awful. And she claims to be the hero?" Evil Queen: (Scoffs:) "Let her. If Regina thinks she's seen the last of me, she has another thing coming." Hades: (Smiles:) "Well, that all really depends on what you have to offer me, my dear. I don't just send people back to the land of the living on a whim. After all, what's a God without followers, hm?" Evil Queen: "Believe me, Hades, I am not worth the trouble I would cause if you decided to keep me down here. I neither worship or follow. I lead." Hades: "Yes, I'm a big fan of your work. We're really quite similar when you think about it. You cast a curse to force people to your will, and I am cursed to rule a kingdom whose inhabitants have no choice but to obey me." Evil Queen: "Ah, but every person I cursed still had free will." Hades: "As do the members of my flock. They can choose to fall in line or spend eternity as part of the River of Lost Souls." Evil Queen: (Glancing at the river flowing beside them:) "You drive a hard bargain." Hades: "Coming from the final Dark One, I'll take that as a compliment. Now, enough stalling, what is it you wish to offer me?" Evil Queen: "A gift." (The Queen stands, conjuring Excalibur into her outstretched hands and offering it to Hades. Rising to his feet, Hades takes a cautious step towards the blade.) Hades: "You realise of course that I am already a God. Powerful enough to control anyone within my kingdom with a mere snap of my fingers." Evil Queen: "Maybe so, but if there's one thing I've learned from dealing with men like you... it's that you can never have enough power." Hades: "You would give up the Darkness in exchange for me returning you to life?" Evil Queen: "Oh please, cut the crap. You and I both know I'm not dead. If I were I wouldn’t have been able to conjure Excalibur just now." Hades: "You've known this whole time?" Evil Queen: "I had my suspicions, which you just confirmed. For some reason I am still breathing yet still tethered here by this. (Raises Excalibur once more:) Use your powers to free me and the Darkness is yours.” (Opening his hands to lay palms up, Hades allows the Queen to place Excalibur upon them.) Hades: "You know I could just kill you and have both?" Evil Queen: (Conjures a fireball in her hand:) "You're welcome to try." Hades: (Smiles:) "Perhaps you'll allow me some time to consider your offer?" Evil Queen: "Fine. (Extinguishes the fireball:) Just don't take too long." (With that, the Queen turns and exits Hades' chamber. When she passes along the darkened corridor, Facilier steps out from the shadows, having heard every word.)
Mills House. The Next Morning. (Emma lays on the bed watching Regina get ready for work.) Emma: "I'm not saying I do a full day, just go in for the morning see what's up then bail after lunch." Regina: "No, you’re not going into work today. David's got it covered and you need your rest." Emma: "So do you." Regina: "Actually I've not felt this good in a long, long time. Truly, I feel as though a weight has been lifted." Emma: "Mm. Well I still don't see why you have to go in." Regina: "Because I'm the Mayor and I have to smooth the way for your return. The Dark Swan did a number on a lot of people." Emma: (Waves this off:) "They'll get over it. You cursed them for 30 years and yet you're still Mayor. What the hell am I supposed to do here all day alone?" Regina: "Relax? Catch up on some sleep? (Emma screws up her face:) Some housework?" Emma: (Feigns a yawn:) "Now that you mention it, I am feeling kinda tired." Regina: (Beams:) "Uh huh. (Leans down and kisses her:) I'll be home before you know it." Underworld. Hades' Chamber. (The Lord of the Underworld is now speaking with the first Dark One, Nimue.) Nimue: "You can't seriously be considering the Evil Queen's offer." Hades: "Oh, and why not?" Nimue: "Legend has it that no one has ever escaped Lord Hades' kingdom. You rule with an iron fist. Allowing the Evil Queen to return to the land of the living untethered from the Darkness would set a very dangerous precedent." Hades: "True. But on the other hand it would give me full control of the Darkness, not to mention control of every single Dark One in history." Nimue: "The Darkness does you no good here. Why not use Excalibur to kill the Queen, become the Dark One and return us all to the land of the living?" Hades: "You mean trade one prison for another? Believe it or not, Nimue, becoming the Dark One would be a step down for me. Besides, the Darkness no longer belongs in that world. Regina and her Saviour banished it down here forever along with all of you." Nimue: "Then why untether the Evil Queen at all if there is no hope of harnessing the power of the Darkness?" Hades: "Because the living do not belong in my kingdom. No matter how formidable I may be, I still have limited power over those who live and breathe." Nimue: (Moving closer to him:) "And you believe you wield power over me?" Hades: "Don't test me, Nimue. I'm a reasonable guy but this unrelenting heat can make me absolutely crazy. (Suddenly, blue flames erupt out of the top of Hades' head:) Now I suggest you and your dream team of Dark Ones leave me in peace before I do something you really won't approve of." Abandoned Amusement Park. (Emma opens her eyes and finds herself sitting in her bug, not knowing where she is.) Neal: (Sits up in the back of the bug:) “Hey, Emma.” Emma: (Gasps:) “Neal?” Neal: “Yeah.” Emma: “It's really great to see you. Where are we? Am I dreaming?” Neal: “No. If this were a dream, there'd be, like, talking doughnuts or something weird like that. (Gets out of the car, before getting back into the passenger seat:) Think of this as a long-distance call from an old friend.”
Emma: “It's really you.” Neal: “How's Henry?” Emma: “Great. He... misses his dad. He's growing up.” Neal: “I bet.” Emma: “Where are we? I was asleep at home.” Neal: “You mean the Mayor’s Mansion?” Emma: (Smiles:) “It’s home.” Neal: (Nods:) “I’m glad you found your happiness. That's kind of why I'm here. It’s not over, Emma. The forces you sought to destroy are still out there.” Emma: “You mean the Darkness?” Neal: “And others.” Emma: “Others? What do you mean?” Neal: “I’m not really supposed to say. I’m breaking all kinds of rules just by being here, but trust me on this. Don’t let your guard down just yet.” Emma: “Where are you, Neal? The Underworld?” Neal: (Shakes his head:) “The Underworld's for people with unfinished business, and that isn't me. That's why I'm not there.” Emma: “Then where...” Neal: “Someplace. Someplace where I'm happy. I only came here because I care about you, Emma. Do whatever you can to prepare yourself and the people you care about before it's too late.” Emma: “All right, enough with being cryptic. What is it, what’s coming?” Neal: (Breathes sharply:) “I love you, Emma. I always have, and I always will.” (Kisses her forehead, before getting out of the car and walking away.) Emma: “Neal?” (When Emma reaches for the car door she awakens from her dream.) Mills House. Living Room. (Emma is laying on the couch when she jolts herself awake. She stares up at the ceiling and after a few moments, sits up, looking confused, before standing.) Mr. & Mrs. Gold’s House. (Mr. Gold finishes getting dressed, while Belle is still asleep in bed. His phone goes off and it's a text from Emma which reads, "Meet me at your shop, now.") Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Emma waits at the counter in Gold's shop, when the door opens and Mr. Gold enters, closing the door behind him.) Mr. Gold: “Now, you see. This isn't the library or Granny's or some bus station, Miss Swan. This is my shop. (He walks towards her and stands behind the counter:) Unless the sign says "open"... you're not invited.” Emma: “I just had a vision.” Mr. Gold: (Non-plussed:) “Really.” Emma: “From Neal. He warned me that things weren’t over and that I should prepare myself and the people I love for what’s to come.” Mr. Gold: “And what is coming?” Emma: “He wouldn’t say.” Mr. Gold: (Nods:) “Of course not.”
Emma: “You don’t believe me?” Mr. Gold: “Oh I believe you, Miss Swan. Back when I was in my coma, Bae and I had a great many conversations just like yours.” Emma: “You saw him too?” Mr. Gold: “Indeed. It was because of those conversations that I was reminded of the promise I made to Bae after he died. He told me that my family was in trouble and that when the time came, I should do whatever it took to save them.” Emma: “That’s why you were ready to sacrifice yourself in New York?” Mr. Gold: “Yes. I was prepared to do the right thing when Belle arrived to save me once again. I cannot reward my wife’s faith in me by endangering her. So if what Baelfire says is true then I must do right by Belle and take her as far from here as possible.” Emma: “You’re leaving?” Mr. Gold: “Belle has always wanted to travel. The world beyond the town line can be a scary place, but I’d rather take my chances out there than stay here and face what’s yet to come.” (Mr. Gold walks back around the counter, heading for the door when Emma grabs his arm.) Emma: “Gold. You know the Darkness better than anyone, do you really think it can come back?” Mr. Gold: (Sighs:) “All I know, Miss Swan, is Merlin believed that killing the vessel that contained Darkness would destroy it. If that is proved false and the Darkness is about to return... then no one is safe.” The Underworld. (Agitated by her earlier meeting with Hades, Nimue leads the rest of the former Dark Ones along a darkened corridor when they come upon Dr. Facilier, who blocks their path.) Facilier: "A tip of the hat from Dr. Facilier. (Nimue says nothing, merely inclining her head to stare curiously at the man:) Friends, I know I'm a stranger to you all, but it seems to me that we share a common agenda. To see the Darkness return to the land of the living and continue its glorious reign over those lesser mortals. Therefore I propose an alliance. (Facilier produces a talisman from his pocket and holds it out for all to see:) I need your generous assistance in making this stone powerful enough to return me to the land of the living. (Nimue and the others glare at him:) Hahaha, I hear you. Now, what's in it for you? Well... As soon as I dispose of the traitorous Evil Queen, then I'm gonna run this town they call Storybrooke. I'll have the entire populace in the palm of my hand. And you'll have all the wayward souls your dark little hearts desire. (Smiles, noticing that this has piqued the Dark Ones collective interest:) You all love that, don't you? So, we got ourselves a deal? (Several of the hooded figures step forward and allow their souls to be drawn inside the talisman, causing it to glow brightly for a long moment before returning to its inky blackness:) Hahaha! Now we're cooking!”
Storybrooke. Blanchard Apartment. (Regina, Henry, The Charmings and Robin Hood are gathered to hear what Emma has to say.) Mary Margaret: "It's coming back?" Emma: "Maybe." David: "Well it either is or it isn't." Emma: "Neal didn't specify what was coming, only that it was bad." Regina: "Which could mean absolutely anything." Robin Hood: "If it's the Darkness or not, there's only so much preparation that can be made for an unknown enemy." Henry: (To Regina:) "Mom, think. Are there any other people from your past who may want revenge?" Regina: "Not that I can think of, no." David: "To be fair, there must be hundreds to choose from." Emma: (Chiding:) "Dad." David: (Holds up his hands:) "I'm just saying." Mary Margaret: "Regardless of who or what it is, we have to let the town know what's going on." Regina: "And what do you suggest, that I post a notice on the bulletin board? 'Dear people of Storybrooke, while Emma Swan is no longer a threat, please standby for something worse. Details to follow'?" Robin Hood: "Well I for one am not ready to face Zelena again to tell her the bad news. I barely dodged the last fireball she hurled at me." Regina: "Speaking of which, did you really agree to support Zelena?" Emma: (Hesitates:) "Let's stay focused on the problem at hand, all right?" (The room fills with voices while everyone talks over each other, trying to decide what threat could possibly be headed their way next.) The Underworld. (Hades is pacing back and forth considering his options.) Hades: "Seemingly since the beginning of time, I have been cursed to rule over this kingdom. I have played host to the greatest heroes and villains mankind has ever known. For centuries I was given the task of deciding who would go on to spend eternity in the Elysian Fields or remain to suffer forever in Tartarus. And were my efforts recognised in any way? Of course not. (Stops pacing and heads towards the figure trapped in the pillory to whom he's been speaking:) A man can only take so much before he is pushed too far. (Leans down to be eye level with the man:) And so that is why I've redirected my efforts into making sure each and every soul that enters my kingdom suffers just as greatly as I have."
Pan: "You're doing an excellent job, Lord Hades." Hades: (Tilts his head and smiles:) "Thank you. (Stands and resumes his pacing:) However, with the arrival of the Darkness into my domain, it does present me with quite the opportunity. You see, I grow weary of torturing those who are already dead. Like any respectable deity, I long to expand my flock. For far too long I have been shackled by my curse, allowed only too briefly to enter my brother's kingdom and feel fresh air upon my face. To listen to the birdsong and to be in the presence of my heart's truest desire. (Pan raises his head at this, intrigued:) Using the Darkness I shall bring my kingdom to the land of the living, forging a bridge between both realms." Pan: "What then, Lord Hades?" Hades: (Laughs:) "What then? Oh, my dear Peter. Then the real fun begins." Elsewhere In The Underworld. (The Evil Queen is making her way back to Hades' chamber when she rounds a corner to find Facilier waiting for her.) Evil Queen: (Scoffs:) "And who are you supposed to be?" Facilier: "I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, I am-" Evil Queen: "You were the one eavesdropping outside Hades' chamber. My, your lord won't appreciate that." Facilier: "There's a great deal that Hades and I do not agree on, but we both have an eye for talent." Evil Queen: (Laughs:) "Really. Is that what you are, a talent scout?" Facilier: "In a manner of speaking. Back when I was alive, I was quite the practitioner of dark magic myself. But I was nothing compared to Rumplestiltskin's greatest student." Evil Queen: (Eyes him suspiciously:) "You want something. What is it?" Facilier: "To learn from the best of course. Seeing you walk through those doors in all your magnificence, I could hardly believe my eyes. I never thought I would have the opportunity of meeting someone who's very name strikes fear into the hearts of many through countless realms." Evil Queen: (Rolls her eyes:) "Flattery aside, I'm not the teaching kind." (The Queen continues on her way.) Facilier: (Calling after her:) "And I'm not the kind of man who misses an opportunity." Evil Queen: (Stops walking, allowing Facilier to catch up to her:) "If I were to teach you, what would I-" Facilier: "Get out of it? (Smiles:) Besides an eager student, you would have an ally. Something the Evil Queen is in short supply of these days. (Producing the talisman from his pocket and holding it out:) Here, take this. Carry it with you and I shall be by your side. If you ever tire of me then simply throw it into a body of water and I shall return here to the Underworld." Evil Queen: (Considers:) "Hm. It has been a while since I had my own personal lap dog." Facilier: (Smiling as the Queen takes the talisman:) "Just call me your Shadow Man." Storybrooke. Mills House. (Emma reclines on the bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind racing with possibilities as to what the threat that's coming to Storybrooke could be. Despite this, Emma soon finds her eyelids becoming heavier before they close and she drifts off to sleep.)
Downstairs. (Meanwhile in the living room, Regina is staring into the fireplace when Henry calls out to her.) Henry: “Mom? Why are you sitting down here by yourself?” Regina: (Sighs:) “I’m just... thinking.” Henry: (Sitting beside her:) “About...? (Regina gives him a look:) Mom you know whatever the threat is that we can defeat it, right?” Regina: “What makes you so sure?” Henry: “Because we always have. And because what I choose to believe in is faith... hope that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we will meet them head on, together.” Regina: “You sound so much like your Grandmother.” Henry: “Cora said that?” Regina: “Ha. Ha.” Henry: “Listen, I know right now your feeling like there’s just one thing after another and there’s never a moment’s peace. But what we have here, the three of us, and our family... that’s the stuff that is always worth the struggle.” Regina: (Smiles, tears in her eyes:) “You’re definitely spending too much time with your Grandparents. How did you get to be so smart, huh?” Henry: (Shrugs:) “I figure someone’s gotta be around here.” Regina: “Hey! (Ruffles his hair and pulls him in close for a hug:) I love you so much, Henry.” Henry: “I love you too, Mom. You know we’re gonna be ready for whatever comes our way, right?” Regina: (Nods, her head against his shoulder:) “I hope so.” Storybrooke. Main Street. Night. (The clinking of blades. Emma appears to be battling against an unknown, cloaked assailant. As the fighting intensifies, the visions become shorter and shorter before, suddenly, Emma awakens.) Mayor’s Mansion. Morning. (Breathing heavily, Emma looks wide eyed down at her hand which is now shaking. She turns when the bedroom door opens to see a concerned looking Regina enter the room.) Emma: “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” Regina: “Well, you may be fine, but our town isn’t. Look.” (Regina goes to the window and opens the curtains. Glancing out the window, Emma sees that the sky is now tinged red.) Emma: “What is that?” Regina: “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it isn’t good.”
The End.
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