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strawnarrries · 2 years

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"Should've Picked Me."

Summary: Niall wants a girl on his team for The Voice, but she ends up picking a different coach. She somehow ends up in his dressing room later and apologizes for not picking him. It's cute, but then Niall goes into cocky mode, and he starts talking about what she's missing. He takes off his button up, revealing his tank top. He seduces her, demands she gets on her knees, and he makes her choke and gag, and he makes her admit he's the best and she should've picked him. Lots of arrogance please!

Requested: yes!!!

POV: 2nd

Warning(s): M receiving oral, choking/gagging, dirty talk

You were speechless. All four judges had turned their chairs for you, pretty much arguing with each other over who wanted you the most. You had always had a passion for singing and growing up were constantly told by people around you how talented you were. It was your dream to be a singer but you never thought it would actually work out for you. After much encouragement, your parents finally convinced you to try out for The Voice and so far, it is paying off. You knew you could sing, but all four celebrity judges (who were also all professional, successful singers with amazing voices) were telling you how incredible you were. You couldn't believe it. Your dream was finally coming true.

After all the judges did their speeches, praised you, and begged you to be on their team, you were torn on who to choose. Kelly was one of the celebrities that you adored and always looked up to growing up so little Y/N would die to be on her team. Chance had such a beautiful singing voice that wasn't always portrayed in his songs so being on his team meant being able to hear more of his voice. Blake had that country-ness that you secretly adored, plus he was so funny so you knew you would have so much fun on his team. But Niall, oh you had the biggest crush on that boy. He was so fine. That chocolatey, brunette hair always perfectly styled, the jewelry adorning his earlobes, neck, and fingers, those gorgeous, blue eyes you could get lost in, the facial hair lining his jaw, the chest hair peaking out from under his unbuttoned shirt, his thick Irish accent, his personality, humor, just everything about him made you melt.

"This is such a hard choice," you groaned softly, "but Kelly, you were one of my biggest inspirations growing up so I think I'm gonna have t' go with Team Kelly."

Kelly erupted into cheers, coming up and hugging you so tightly. The 3 boys groaned and grumbled, upset that you didn't choose to be on their team.

"Yer gonna regret that," Niall tsked with his arms crossed.

You blushed and his eye contact with you sent chills up your spine. You brushed it off, trying not to get yourself too worked up over him, knowing nothing would ever come from it.

After all the auditions were over, you and the other contestants were gathered to discuss what the next steps going forward were in regard to the competition. From this point on, your mind was fuzzy. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline, pure shock, or excitement, but you couldn't even remember when or how you got to where you are now. You and Niall were alone in his dressing room.

The door was closed behind him and butterflies were swarming in your stomach as he spoke, "'m mad atcha."

"Why?" you pouted, even though you knew the answer.

"Ya didn't pick me."

"Niall," you whined teasingly, "I had to pick Kelly!"

"Ya did not," he giggled, "I feel so betrayed!"

"Why do you like me so much?" you asked, genuinely curious why he was so eager for you to be on his team.

"Dunno," he shrugged, stepping closer and cupping your face, "just somethin' about ya. Yer confident, gotta beautiful voice, beautiful eyes, beautiful face, beautiful lips."

His voice had gotten much deeper and his accent had begun to get thicker. You could feel the sexual tension filling the air very rapidly and you couldn't help the squeeze of your thighs once you felt your panties start to dampen at his words.

"I wanted ya," he added, "I wanted a pretty girl with a voice of an angel like you on me team."

You couldn't help but blush at his words.

"Yer gonna miss out though," he smirked, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Would've got a lot if ya were on me team."

"I'm sorry," you hummed seductively, "Do you forgive me?"

"Might be able to," he replied, beginning to walk away from you.

"Might?"

"Mhm," he nodded.

His fingers started fumbling with the buttons on his button-up shirt, slowly unbuttoning the buttons and watching as you watched him in awe. He slid his jacket off of his arms and tossed it onto the couch. His muscled arms were revealed to you and the tank top adorning his chest made your mouth water. You noticed the gold necklace still wrapped around his neck and you couldn't help but imagine the sight of it dangling over your face while he fucked in and out of you.

"What can I do t' get you t' forgive me?"

"I can think of a couple things," he hummed, walking towards you again.

"Like what?" you grinned.

He didn't answer you, silence taking over the room as you both stared at each other, curious about who was going to make the first move. The sexual tension in the air was so high you thought you might suffocate. He was so sexy. His blue eyes were clouded over with lust and you noticed his gaze trailing down to your lips.

"'m gonna be honest, it's takin' everythin' in me not t' kiss you right now."

"Then why don't you?" you smirked.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned to himself.

His lips crashed onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth and asserting his dominance. He quickly backed you up against the wall, lips moving in sync with yours. His hands gripped your hips tightly, squeezing them as he pushed himself into you. His bulge caressed you exactly where you were already throbbing for him. The slight friction of his hips grinding into you sent relief to wash across your body, but also made you want more at the same time.

It wasn't long before his hands started to wander your body. He grabbed onto the hem of your top and pulled it up over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He pulled the right side of your bra down, revealing your nipple to the cool air. He cupped your breast and squeezed roughly while his lips landed on your neck, leaving marks everywhere they could reach.

His hands trailed down again and slipped past the elastic band on your skirt. He pushed it down your legs and allowed it to pool at your feet before you heeled off your boots and kicked your skirt and shoes in the direction where your shirt landed. Your matching red bra and panty set were now exposed to him. You were thanking your past self for putting on a pair that made you feel sexy rather than an old, ratty pair.

He bit his lip as he lusted over your body, his hands snaking behind your back and undoing your bra. He slipped it off your arms and tossed it to the side. Your nipples pebbled at the temperature change and you suddenly felt very vulnerable, but you weren't complaining.

"Fuck, yer sexy," he growled.

His lips immediately found their way to your left nipple, slipping it past his pink lips and beginning to lick, bite, suck, and nip at the sensitive skin. You moaned out his name, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure making you feel like you could cum on the spot. Your painted fingernails began tugging his brunette locks, messing up his perfectly styled hair, but he didn't seem to mind.

After giving your right nipple the same amount of attention, he pulled away and demanded, "Get on yer knees."

You immediately got down on your knees in front of him, his bulge now face-to-face with you. While unbuckling his black belt and pushing his pants and underwear down his legs, he grumbled, "Really gonna fuckin' regret not pickin' me after I'm done wit' ya."

He was huge. He definitely was the biggest you've ever seen. He was so thick and his tip peaked out from under his foreskin, bright red and oozing precum. Your mouth watered as you admired him before you were broken out of your trance by his accent, "Be a good girl and wrap those pretty lips 'round me."

You instantly obeyed and wrapped your hand around his length, immediately taking him in. You wasted no time, bobbing your head back and forth against him, looking up at him innocently through your mascara-coated eyelashes.

He let out of groan, throwing his head back, "Oh fuck."

He grabbed your long, curled hair between his hands and gathered it into a ponytail, lifting it up out of your face. You continued bobbing your head against him, sucking gently at his throbbing tip each time you came up, palms pumping what your mouth wasn't currently focused on.

His hands soon let your hair fall down to your back again, moving to press them against each side of your face to hold you still, "Stop movin'. 'm gonna fuck yer mouth and den you'll really be wishin' ya said me name up dere."

"Mmm, punish me," you smirked.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed out.

He immediately began thrusting his hips, his member moving in and out of your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat with each entrance and you began to gag on him. Your eyes watered and moans fell from both yours and Niall's lips.

Filthy words left his mouth as he felt his orgasm begin to rise, "Look at cha. Look so fuckin' sexy like dis; gaggin' on me cock, lettin' me use ya like the good girl ya are. I know ya love dis. Such a dirty girl. I bet yer fuckin' soaked right now all 'cause of me."

He wasn't wrong, you were dripping for him. Even though your vision was blurry, you could see the way his jaw was slack, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. Sweat began to seep through his tank top and you couldn't remember the last time a man turned you on as much as Niall was right now.

Your hands wrapped around his thighs to keep you grounded, nails digging into his skin, for sure leaving marks for him to notice tomorrow morning. The curls lining his pelvis tickled your nose when you took him in full and your throat tightened each time you gagged around him, sending him into a moaning mess. His member was coated with your slick saliva, making it that much easier for him to move in and out of your mouth.

"So hot seein' ya like that. 'm fuckin' dat pretty voice outta ya. Won't ever be able t' say anyone's name but mine after 'm done withcha."

Your eyes continued to water every time you gagged on him, tears rolling down your cheeks and your mascara beginning to crease under your eyes. You were throbbing for him, needing some sort of relief. You were sat on your knees so you adjusted yourself slightly so the heel of your foot was placed right against your clothed center. You subtly ground your hips against your heel, the pressure on your throbbing clit being just enough for tension to be lifted.

It wasn't much longer until you felt him begin to twitch in your mouth before he pulled out abruptly, painfully groaning, "Fuck, okay, 'm gonna cum. Needa be in ya."

You stood back up and immediately pressed your lips against his, letting him taste himself on your tongue. You whimpered desperately against him, gripping him tightly, "I need you so bad. I want you t' fuck me so hard."

"Ya know I fuckin' will. 'm gonna fuck ya so hard ya won't be able t' walk tomorrow mornin'," he growled.

You moaned at his words, your lips moving sloppily against his. He pressed you up against the wall again, grabbing your hands that were tugging his hair and pinning them above your head. He held both of your wrists in one hand, the other hand sliding down your body. His fingers dipped into your panties and slipped through your folds, feeling how wet he made you.

"Yer drenched, babe. Drippin' down me fingers."

The pet name he called you sent tingles down your spine and you let out a desperate whimper. You would've been embarrassed at how helpless you sounded but you were so turned on nothing else in the world mattered but him. With his one free hand, he pushed your panties down your smooth legs, letting them pool at your feet before you kicked them off, "Who made ya dis wet, huh?"

"You did," you hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation for what's to come next.

"What was dat?" he egged on, fingers sliding up and down your slit to spread your wetness.

"You, Niall!" you moaned, "Fuck, you did."

"Damn right I did," he smirked smugly.

He easily slipped two fingers into your entrance, thrusting them in and out of you. You let out a pornographic moan at the relief, head falling back against the wall and hips bucking up into his hand. He curled his fingers up and wriggled them around, feeling every inch of you. He found that special spot inside of you, just under where your clit is located and your back arched in response. He rubbed over that spot over and over again and you knew it wouldn't be long until you were screaming his name.

His lips attacked your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking at that skin, being sure to leave marks. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, his pace quickening with each thrust and you couldn't stop the moans leaving your lips. The sound of your wetness filled the room along with Niall's raspy voice against the skin of your neck, "Gotta getcha nice and ready fer me, huh? 'm gonna stretch ya out real good in just a minute. Best fuck you'll ever have, I can guarantee dat."

His fingers continued to move in and out of you and the knot in your stomach tightened and tightened. He could feel your walls clench around him and your wrists straining against his hands still pinning you against the wall.

"'m gonna cum, oh my god, 'm so close," you whimpered.

Not even a full second later, you felt empty, your high instantly fading. He had slipped his fingers out of you and let go of your wrists. Before you even had time to complain, he ordered, "Go t' the couch and get on yer hands and knees."

You immediately obeyed, getting comfortable on the couch, and waiting impatiently for him. He slipped off his shoes, stepped out of the pool of his pants around his ankles, and pulled off his tank top so you both were now completely naked and exposed to one another.

"Do we need a condom?" he asked.

"No, I have an IUD," you replied.

"Fuckin' perfect," he groaned.

Getting on his knees behind you, he lined himself up with your entrance. You let out a whimper as he slid in, filling you up completely. He was huge. It took you a minute to adjust to him but once you did, you were in pure bliss. He wasted no time and began moving in and out of you at a fast pace, his hips smacking against yours and echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck, yer fuckin' tight," he grunted, fingertips digging into the skin of your hips as he watched himself move in and out of you, his member glistening with your arousal, "Haven't ever been properly fucked before, have ya?"

"Ni-Niall," you moaned, your breath hitching in your throat as you clenched around him, feeling every inch of him against your walls.

"Dat's right, say my name. Fuckin' regretting not sayin' it up on stage now aren't ya?"

You moaned out his name louder this time, feeling your orgasm begin to rise again. The sound of your wetness and his hips slapping against yours reverberated off the dressing room walls. He felt so good inside of you. You were dreaming of this the second you saw him turn his chair around for you in that sexy outfit and smug look on his face.

With each thrust of his hips, his swollen tip hit your spot perfectly, sending pleasure throughout your body. You clenched around him, feeling every ridge and vein on his member against your slick walls. You were supporting yourself on your elbows, your ass in the air for him. He had the perfect view of you. The arch of your back and the thickness of your ass were all he had in his mind at the moment. That and the fact that this sexy girl didn't choose to be on his team.

"Ya regrettin' not pickin' me now?"

"Oh god, Niall, yes," you moaned.

"Bet ya are."

His tip continued to reach that special spot inside of you, going so deep with every thrust of his hips. You were in pure bliss right now. A man has never made you feel this good in your entire life. You had expected Niall to be good in bed, but you never expected it to be this good. Your body was on fire, he made you feel so good, you couldn't help the moans that left your lips. You didn't care who was listening on the other side of the door, all you were capable of doing was screaming his name.

He leaned down slightly, his back pressed against yours as his right arm slid around your waist and held you against him. His thrusts became shorter at the new position, his tip now slightly rubbing that special spot inside of you.

"None of those other judges can make ya feel as good as I'm makin' ya feel right now, huh?" he hummed into your ear.

"Mm mm," you whimpered, "You feel so good. You're so deep."

"Can ya feel me in yer stomach?"

"Oh fuck, y-yes, yes," you breathed out, struggling to let the words leave your lips as your breath hitched in your throat.

His lips began attacking your neck, nipping and sucking anywhere they could reach. You let out a pathetic moan when he kissed just below your ear; that was your sweet spot. He began sucking and nipping extra at that spot, causing chills to run down your spine. His lips were wet and slightly cold against your burning skin. You could feel his warm breath fanning across your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin.

As he sat up again, he slipped out of you. Grabbing onto your hips, he comfortably repositioned himself before lining his tip up with your dripping entrance and immediately pounding back into you. His pace was fast and hard, desperately chasing both of your highs. Your orgasm was just around the corner. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were releasing all over him, screaming his name for the entire arena to hear.

"Should've picked me, huh?" he hummed, lifting his hand from your hip and landing it across the curve of your ass in a solid spank.

"Mhm," you whimpered.

"Say it."

"Fuck, Niall, yes! I should've picked you. You're the b-best judge up there and it was st-stupid for me to not pick you. Fuck, you feel so good." You struggled to get your words out, the pleasure being too much for you and your breath hitching in your throat once again.

"'bout t' make ya cum, aren't I?"

"Yes, oh my god, please don't stop, 'm so close," you whimpered, desperate for a release.

"Tell me how good I am and I'll let ya cum," he grunted.

"So good, Niall. No one else has ever made me feel this good. You're so fuckin' big, fill me up perfectly. I never want you t' stop. Fuck, it feels s-so good." Moans, whimpers, and praises continued to spill from your lips. His thrusts got quicker and harder with each compliment that left your mouth and you knew it would only be seconds before you were releasing on him.

You reached down underneath your body and pressed your fingers to your clit, rubbing it side to side sloppily to bring you to the edge. Your moans got louder and more pornographic as the knot in your stomach unraveled and your orgasm took over your entire body in waves of pleasure. Your face was buried into the cushions, muffling the sounds you were creating. You could see stars behind your eyelids and your toes curled against his calves in pleasure.

Your high slowly began dropping and you could feel him twitch inside of you before filling you up completely with his warm release. A new wave of pleasure washed through your body and you shivered in response. Sexy groans fell from his lips as he carried himself through his orgasm, soon both of you coming down from the high with heavy breaths.

You both collapsed on the couch, his chest resting against your back before you whined, his body weight being too much. He slid in behind you, spooning you as you both dwelled in the aftermaths of your orgasms.

It wasn't long before you spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence, "That was the best sex I've ever had."

"Well duh," he replied.

He got up from the couch, walked towards the rack that held all his clothes, and began to get dressed in a fresh outfit; a lot more casual than the one he wore on stage.

There was a cute grin on his pink lips while he spoke his next words, making you roll your eyes teasingly, "Should've picked me."

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redpanther23 · 7 months

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GREETINGS FROM MEOWTER SPACE.

In my travels I've come to find that I have an extremely strange family background. I'm going to be talking about it in some essays, which may contain descriptions of abuse and neglect. Here's the first one (it's long as fuck.)

On my mom's side, my great great grandmother was Creek. She was alive when I was born, and we briefly met. She was over 125 years old (nobody knows how old exactly.) The men on that side, who were all Scottish, died in their early 40s, except for my grandfather, who left when my mom was a kid. (I met him once, but my mom didn't want me to be around anyone Christian as a kid, so I never met anyone else on that side of the family.) I barely know anything about my Scottish ancestry, although growing up we called the native grapes "bullises," which is a Gaelic word for plums (they're also called muscadines, but I don't know what the truth is anymore.)

My family were subsistance farmers since before colonization, until my grandma became a schoolteacher. Our family moved to what would later be the Free State of Jones from what would later be Alabama, though I'm not sure why. During the Civil War, people in Jones county refused to fight, since nobody owned slaves in the area, and it was declared a Free State. My grandma lives in the Free State, in abject poverty with my uncle and his wife, who just scream at each other and beat their kids and neglect their 15 hoarded dogs all day. And if they have a problem with me saying so, they can eat shit and die.

My mom went to school for anthropology, and taught geology at the University of Southern Mississippi. She was extremely ashamed of how poor our background is, and I wasn't allowed to visit family much, although I wanted to very badly. I got to live with my grandma and my two adopted uncles who are around my age for a little while when we were kids, and they're some of the only positive childhood memories I have. I was extremely isolated and abused, especially by my step dad, who is currently (to my knowledge) employed as a programmer at a major video game company, as well as being a child molester starting when I was 2 or 3 years old (some of my earliest memories.) His name is Rigel Cameron Freeman. I ran away when I was 16 to live with my dad. When I told my mom what he did, she called me a liar and quit speaking to me, and that was the last I heard from her directly. So far as I know, she's been in mental hospitals pretty much since I left.

My dad's mom, whose first name was Ellen, was Ashkenazi Jewish, descended from a family who left Germany before the holocaust. She was a beatnik who was friends with Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsburg, and she had personal beef with Grace Slick over a boyfriend. My dad's first guitar was a gift from Cat Stevens, although this was something he was a little embarrassed about and only mentioned to me once. She was especially close friends with Tiny Tim. She was in California trying to break into acting, and almost got a part in the Godfather allegedly (actually all of this is alleged by my dad, I only met her once. He really didn't like her, so I don't think he would make it up.)

Then she met my grandfather, Bob Marshall, who was probably in California to do drugs (sacred family tradition.) I have reason to believe he was mostly Choctaw and possibly Irish, although on that side of the family it's traditional to claim to be "French or Italian" unless you're very drunk, and then it's okay to be Indian. They moved up to Alaska and lived on the Athabaskan reservation, where my father, Rogan Russell Marshall, was born on April 19. Later, my grandfather became a civil rights lawyer, and he defended the right for prisoners with AIDS to be desegregated (basically anyone with AIDS would die in solitary before that.)

My dad got into Emerson, dropped out because no one could afford textbooks, moved to Mississippi and started this crazy punk band, and then went ahead and wrote some movies anyway. My favorite is called the Attic Expeditions, it features Seth Green, Jeffery Combs, and Alice Cooper, and it's very trippy and fun. Unfortunately, he became disabled from the same autoimmune condition I have, ankylosing spondylitis, which, if you're born male, has much more severe symptoms (which is why I chose not to start testosterone.) AS used to be thought of as genetic, but has recently been linked to environmental pollutants, and I was likely exposed to something released by one of our many chemical factories (my uncle who abuses his kids and dogs is adopted, I mentioned earlier, grew up in my grandma's house when we were kids together, and has the same symptoms, and multiple people who lived on the same Hattiesburg street as my dad in the 90s were diagnosed.) He was living in Massachussetts in his mom's basement when he married my step mom, a public defense attourney, to get health insurance, and they lived in Miami for eight years together until she left him, shortly after I moved in.

After that, I had to drop out of high school, and I lived in hell for about seven years while I worked full time, usually multiple jobs, to take care of us, and all the cats he would bring home (as many as 13, but I ran my house like a cat ranch and it was kind of beautiful.) His physical and mental health was dogshit, he wouldn't stop doing hard drugs, and our relationship was so hopelessly abusive that I had to quit speaking to him as well. My feelings are complicated because, while I love and admire his work, and he taught me a lot of extremely valuable and positive things, the things he did to me would put him in prison if I believed in the law. I owe him everything, and at the same time, I almost wish we'd never met (I'll have to talk about that in another post as well, because it's a lot, and exremely heavy.)

My third parent, Scott Panther, I honestly don't know very well. According to local legend, and there are many about him, he's Scottish and Cherokee. He was close friends with my parents before I was born, helped start Rong (and probably came up with the best ideas for it.) He was my mom's boyfriend for a long time before I was born.

My mom met Scott and Rogan at a Rong show, I was conceived after a Rong show (Scott drove Rogan to her house), and the night I was born there was a Rong show. Scott was overdosing when my mom went into labor, and I was born at 4 AM while multiple tornadoes passed through town. Later that night, he was ready to play the show (hats off). No one told Rogan I was born, though in the full video of the show he mentions the other people in town who were born on April 18. Unfortunately, the video is probably lost - he gave all the Rong tapes to someone I don't know, and he didn't say who (he may have even been lying and threw them away.)

I inherited a lot of personality traits from Scott, as many people who know us have noticed, although I gained them not through direct teaching, or through any modern understanding of genetics. I've read that before colonization these kind of things were more common and better understood.

#red panther speaks

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unhonest-iago · 2 years

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My Pretty Little Galway Girl

Idk why I made the set up for this so long. That said, happy w/ how it turned out.

P/t—preferred temperature

F/m/g—favorite music genre

Fem reader

Corpse meeting y/n at a dive bar, him in the audience and them on the stage. Fingers plucking the strings on their violin, the body nestled between shoulder and chin. Long skirts swaying as they moved across the stage. 'Why hello there stranger,' greeting Corpse after he sent them a drink.

Two fingers shooting upward in a mini salute when y/n looked towards his end of the bar, deciphering who had sent it. A handsome man with unruly black hair. 'Name's Corpse.'

'Y/n. Hopefully you don't murder people as a hobby.' They joked, not thinking Corpse could become any more attractive when they heard his laugh. 'Can promise you I've never murdered anyone. Plus haven't met anyone to murder.'

'Oh, so are you new to town new or new to this neck of the woods new?' Crossing a leg over the other, smoothing their skirt down. 'As in moved here a week ago.' Y/n, entranced by the man decided to be his tour guide. Asking if he was free the following weekend. 'What for?' The tone of the conversation carrying a wind of coyness. 'Sight seeing, if you're up for it.'

‘Hop on, stranger.’ The term quickly became a staple nickname y/n uses for Corpse. Corpse glad he wore jeans at the sight of their motorcycle. ‘Nice to see you again, fiddler.’ Corpse looping his hands around their waist.

Y/n ends up taking him to all the hole in the wall joints that tourists would never find. Purposely choosing the scenic routes. The day closing with the duo sat on top of a hill, watching the sun go down as they shared a pile of fries. 'Thanks for this.' Corpse whispers. Nudging their knee with his, 'No problem, was nice to get an outsider's opinion. Finally got to share it with someone.'

Chat notices that Corpse is happier and starts conspiring whether he has a partner which scares the fuck out of him because he hasn't told y/n what he actually does for a living. So he sits y/n down that week and explains it all to them. 'Can I watch you stream? It's fine if not.' Corpse helps them set up an account.

Corpse being just as supportive with y/n's work. Going to a gig here and there when he has nothing to do. Still taken a-back at how comfortable they are on stage, even though it's more of a slate platform. Y/n spotting him when they once again get a drink sent their way. Mouthing the word 'tease,' and Corpse simply mouths back 'but you love me for it.'

Leads to them moving into an apartment together. Corpse getting some of his friends to help carry boxes in if they're free. Y/n unlocking the door after they park the rental truck into the parking lot. Living together, y/n learns that Corpse is a big night owl and takes his coffee black. Corpse learns that y/n likes the thermostat on p/t and that they like to listen to f/m/g while cleaning

A year rolls around and it's now springtime. 'What's got you all excited?' Corpse asks as he hugged them from behind, having noticed how y/n had a little pep in their step. 'St. Patrick's Day is next week. Actually got to the store early enough to get a whole brisket.'

His eyebrow furrowed as he asked, 'brisket for what?' Apparently he'd wrongfully assumed that it was gonna be another day. 'Corned beef and cabbage, my folks always made it for St. Patrick's Day. That or we'd go to an Irish pub for lunch.' Thinking back to it, Corpse had met y/n in one such pub a year prior on the aforementioned day.

'Did we meet because of--?' Lifting his head from their shoulder. 'Yea, we did. But that was a coincidence, wasn't supposed to work that day.' The usual violinist unable to play as they'd inexplicably broken their wrist. 'Do you do the whole pinching thing?'

'No, you can still go out in your dark aesthetic,' playful teasing at how most of his wardrobe was the quintessential 'I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.' But so was theirs, Corpse's fashion taste rubbing off on them.

Corpse helped set the table, every time he tried helping in the kitchen, he'd immediately get booted by y/n. It'd been on the stove, simmering away for 3 hours. 'Corpse, could you get the balsamic vinegar? Should be in the fridge.' Somehow switching roles when Corpse gently nudged them aside once he saw them struggling. 'I got it, now how thin do you want it?' Gesturing with their thumb and pointer.

'You sure you like it? Not too tough is it?' Corpse, placing down his silverware, grabbed y/n's hand. Running his thumb in circles against their wrist. 'It's perfect, fiddler.' Kissing their cheek. 'Thanks, stranger.'

#iago writes #x reader #corpse x fem reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #offline tv #x fem reader #corpse x reader #holidays w/ corpse

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paradoxcase · 10 months

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Chapter 3 of Nona the Ninth

Huh, so:

I guess this is definition 7, then. I've never heard that word used to refer to a person before, but it's not marked as being regional

So Nona looks old enough that people are fine with hitting on her, but not old enough that anyone thinks she's graduated from middle school. This is not a fun fact

Also, this school has "almost 20 children", this is like a one-room schoolhouse from the 19th century except it's in the middle of New York City for some reason, what even

I mean, is it really that hard to pimp out Augustine? If she'd said "I'd have had better luck pimping out Mercy" that would have been something, but maybe it actually is easier to pimp out Nona and Camilla than it is to pimp out Mercy

Can Camilla and Palamedes have regular conversations with each other? Very curious as to how that might work

Quasi-telepathic abilities sounding more and more likely

There's been descriptions of it being hot, and I'm not sure if a) it's just summer, and that's what summer is like wherever New Rho happens to be, or b) this planet is just hotter than Earth by virtue of being closer to the sun or having a naturally thicker atmosphere, or c) some kind of climate change is happening here

It sounds like she has some still-repressed memories of learning this stuff?

So they live in basically a cop building, and Pyrrha did say that one of their neighbors is a cop and another one has militia connections, so I'm guessing they are probably being specifically kept there by BOE or some other entity because of their Nine Houses connection, and Camilla doesn't want Nona telling people where they live because people might infer that based on the building?

Given that a lot of people here don't speak each other's languages, I wonder how much of this is just another culture's kinship system being mistranslated into whatever language the kids are using. Like, Brother Father and Younger Brother Father sound like they're probably uncles, Eldest Father could be a grandfather, and New Father could possibly be a step-father

I mean, first of all, Palamedes has been living here for a while, I think he should be used to BOE (or whatever you want to call this culture) names by now, but also, Honesty is a perfectly fine name. Like, Wake's name was silly, Hot Sauce is a silly name, We Suffer And We Suffer and Crown Him With Many Crowns are at least fairly odd from an English-language naming standpoint, and many of our common names are borrowed from ancient languages and don't mean anything in regular conversation, but we totally 100% also name people things like Grace and Faith and Hope and Joy and Harmony and Prudence and Felicity and Constance and I'm sure there's plenty of cultures where boys are named this way too and Honesty is a perfectly fine and reasonable name. While we're at it, Beautiful Ruby and Born in the Morning are also pretty good names? The only thing odd about these names is that we're not used to seeing them

Anyway, possibly the kids are speaking some non-House language (or are at least named in non-House languages) and Nona is translating their names into House for this conversation? It's a little odd in that case that she's not translating "Kevin" at least in the narrative text, since Kevin is just an anglicization of Irish Caoimhín which means "of noble birth" in Irish. But if Nona's language abilities are based on some sort of telepathic sense, she might fail to translate Kevin's name because Kevin doesn't know Irish? Irish seems unlikely to have survived the apocalypse, at any rate

She definitely can lie, though, she successfully lied and told the teachers at the school that Camilla was her sister and Pyrrha was a friend of her father's and that she had been through many resettlements, didn't she? She just doesn't seem to know on her own when she should be lying and when she shouldn't be

There are some implications for how language is being processed for someone who really can't lie, basically the science fiction premise of Embassytown by China Miéville, and in that book the aliens who could not lie also had an empathetic aspect to how they understood language. But I don't think Muir knows enough about linguistics to write that kind of linguistics science fiction

Is this why Nona's legs are sore, she is running around with these young kids all day and having trouble keeping up?

Very curious if this is actually some kind of possibly war-related movement of things through the underground tunnels, or if this is just a vernacular name for something else

So BOE is recruiting children on this planet to join their militia, and they are also executing necromancers here by burning them to death

It's kind of funny that Honesty is calling her stupid here - he knows there are spies who are necromancers and/or zombies, and Nona is in fact a necromancer (or used to be one at one time) and she also lives with Palamedes for that matter, but it doesn't occur to Honesty that there is actually a chance that Nona or someone she lives with could be one of the spies

So this is what they call the resurrection beast? Except we know that resurrection beasts don't come for regular necromancers, or else they would be all over the Nine Houses, they only come for Lyctors. I guess it's entirely possible that this one could be here for any of Nona, Pyrrha, or Camilla/Palamedes, or it could just be here to eat a living planet because that's what they do. I wonder if the mythology of these people is that the resurrection beasts are like God's punishment for necromancy or something, it seems like Hot Sauce believes that to be the case, at least. Possibly it's not completely wrong, depending on what the relationship was between the deaths of the nine planets and the occurrence of necromancy

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth

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simplyreveries · 7 months

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Hi! I'm just sliding this in for the matchup!

(I'm just going to answer the question like things you put because I have no clue what to write otherwise!)

Ok so my hobbies are competitive traditional dance (poi and Irish mostly) as well as writing! I'm not quite sure how to describe my personality, but I suppose maybe I'm just a fast person? Like I always jump from one thing to another and I'm a bit sassy, even when I'm not trying to be lol

For physical features I'll just say I definitely do look IrishMaori incase the types of dance I do didn't give that away lol, like almond eyes, lots of freckles, round face, red hair lol as well as being very, very short. (4'10)

I go use she/her and I suppose just a few more things about me would be that I have a speical intrest in wonderland and marine life and I have an eraser collection. (Yeah, the things you fix mistakes with, I have weird ones like a fire extinguisher eraser, golf club erasers even a mini ping pong eraser set-) So yeah, I hope that's good for you to work with and I look forward to seeing who you pair me up with!

BTW your writing is amazing, I always look forward to when you post ok bye 👋

-🎻

I match you with riddle rosehearts!!!

he's very fascinated, though he is a lover of the arts and knows a lot when it comes to the historic side of it. he doesn't exactly know how to do much of it himself. if he did try, he'd spend too much time trying to follow some tutorial step by step and upset when he can't exactly replicate it. he finds himself completely mesmerized an interested in what you do for dance. riddle is awkwardly stiff; he could never imagine doing the things that you can do. he does bashfully crack a smile if you playfully try to dance normally with you. he'd love it.

does find your personality endearing. though ... he has lightly scolded you sometimes because he doesn't want you getting yourself unintentionally getting some savanaclaw student upset over any witty comment or banter back to them. he is slightly concerned for you with such troublesome people at this school!

riddle really does think your interest and collection is cute. he is someone who probably has a lot of generally, stationary for when it comes to school. if there's ever a chance he finds some when he's out somewhere and in a shop, he'll gladly get some for you. especially if they're something that resembles something strictly in twisted wonderland, since he knows you love that so much.

he does secretly enjoy the fact that you are in fact shorter than him... it is pretty rare for him to experience so he has an internal sense of satisfaction whenever he's looking at you and can't help but notice the difference. he finds it so adorable. though he does not take it kindly (actually personally) if someone like floyd would tease you about it. its quite an easy way that eel gets even more of a rise out of him!

#TY TYY #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #matchups #🎻 anon

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beigetiger · 6 days

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It is FINALLY time to talk about Winter and her rebellion! This took me several days so I have zero idea how coherent it is! Sorry 😃

So, Winter spent numerous of her teenage years running a terrorist organization. As a result, she is no longer allowed in Roarhaven and so runs a rebellion against some of the stronger god factions (mainly Mevolent and Valkyrie, somewhat the Darquesse cult) with a gang of people who are left over from the terrorist group.

Winter is the leader, and Alter is second-in-command. I’m debating whether or not they should be dating and I’m leaning towards yes, but I also lowkey refuse to write romance so we’ll see where it goes. Alter was also the guy who convinced Winter to join the group and eventually run it, so he does feel some responsibility for the events that went down because of it. Also, constantly nearly dying has made him a lot less Nazi-coded, so at least that’s a plus.

Aside from Alter, Malice is also there (still in energy form) and basically acts like Winter’s shadow by giving advice, following her around everywhere, and making sure that nobody is trying to sneak up and kill Winter. Malice is directly the reason why the Faceless Ones escaped from their prison, but she realized that they weren’t going to help her and instead decided that it would be more vindicating to help Winter defeat Valkyrie.

Somebody who is not there is Mia. She and Winter both joined the organization at together (although for different reasons) and Mia ended up sticking around to support Winter when she took over. Eventually the bone wand exploded and turned Valkyrie into a god, yadda yadda, but the whole thing ended with Winter being sort of…cut off? From her sister, her parents, from the Sanctuary and Roarhaven as a whole…pretty much everything except for her little organization. And so when Valkyrie started acting weird and the Faceless Ones escaped, Winter decided to dedicate what little she had left to fighting her sister. This was going alright until a fight between the two groups where Anton was cornered and using his gist, and Mia tried to step in to protect somebody else, causing the gist to grab her and maul her to death before anyone could stop it.

Winter has since made it a goal to kill Anton Shudder in vengeance for what happened. Like, she loathes his continued existence to a Skulduggery/Nefarian level. Anton, on the other hand, did not actually know who Mia was but felt absolutely awful (and still does) about the fact that he killed a teenager who was trying to save her friend.

Since the organization and everyone in it was kicked out of Roarhaven, they have continued their lack of association with the Irish Sanctuary and move around a lot, not really having a single main base. I do think that they would spend a fair bit of time in America though, where there are fewer gods to fight and therefore less constant danger. Winter also regularly gets into territory skirmishes with Valkyrie over who gets to maintain control of the Grimwood House, although Winter doesn’t know what’s down there. She just knows that she wants Valkyrie to stay the hell away from it. Valkyrie, on the other hand, wants to create more god-killers to use on people like Mevolent but has a hard time with it because neither she nor Skulduggery can go down there on account of the fact that they would get torn apart by magic-sensing monsters. Also, they’re a tad nervous about waking up the dragon. Valkyrie is half considering trying to use it as a pet. But Winter knows none of this, she just spends a lot of time trying to stop Valkyrie from getting whatever’s down there.

In fact, the rebellion as a whole does a lot of that. Their purpose is to try and kill as many gods as possible to return the world to peace, with Winter (who has the god-killer spear) at the head of it. Aside from Valkyrie and Skulduggery, the rebellion also regularly gets into fights with Mevolent’s troops. They do, however, avoid going near the Sanctuary for various reasons, including the understanding that their existence near Roarhaven would disturb its place as a relatively peaceful haven.

And Winter herself? Lots of issues. Valkyrie becoming a god and then regularly defeating Winter’s rebellion in fights has really not had a great effect on her already bad self-esteem. She’s also now had to live her life for years without her sister to look up to, which is especially hard because Valkyrie was a huge role model for her her entire life. She also still has periodic breakdowns regarding Cadaverous Gant as well as something that Cadaver Cain did to her (specifically betraying and then shooting her. And saying that Valkyrie was superior to her for not trusting him). Winter is also very cut-off from her parents because they’re mortals who’re hiding in Roarhaven at best and dead at worst. Lastly, Winter has a bit of a complex relationship with Skulduggery because she now knows slightly more the extent to which he took advantage of Valkyrie as a kid, but she also remembers him protecting her from Cadaverous and him just…being a background figure in her life for a long time. Skulduggery would probably kill her if not for the fact that Valkyrie would be sad about it.

In short, Winter has many issues that I think would be interesting to write about, and if I ever write this out as a fic it will be written partially from her perspective.

#normally wouldn’t talk about winter but she’s relevant to this au #she and valkyrie are problem children for different reasons lmao #skulduggery pleasant #battlescape of the gods au #i am once again skulduggeryposting

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alaffy · 10 months

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The Gilded Age, Ep. 2x07 – Wonders Never Cease (Spoilers)

I got to admit, while I still enjoy the actors and the characters, I really feel like the writing has taken a step back this season. Peggy’s story is still interesting and so is George’s. Bertha’s, most of it is good, except for Winterton (and I think that has to do with the fact that I’m not particularly fond of how the actress plays the character). Every other storyline has been predictable and boring.

John is invited to be part of the clockmakers society and now can be considered for a patent. The Vallet’s daughter tells her father that she did not know he was being run out of town and is coming up with a plan to make sure he can stay and not be a Vallet. No one cares.

The episode can be broken up into three parts. The first, are the last few days leading up to the opening of the Brooklyn Bridge. The second is the day of the opening. The third is the night/morning after of the opening.

The Days Before:

Marion is clearly unsure about her engagement to Dashell, although she’s convinced herself this is a good match. The family has an engagement lunch at the Van Rijhn’s; but then Forte is taken ill. Yes, it’s TV Show Cancer and so, even though he looks perfectly healthy, he will be dead by the end of the episode. He’s taken upstairs to rest.

Ms. Astor has let Bertha know that she has procured a box at the Music Hall for Bertha. Bertha says she will have to check with her husband first. George points out that Bertha will be a founder of The Met and that puts her in a better position than with just the box.

Larry tries to convince one of the trustees, that they should recognize the wife as the builder of the bridge. Larry is shot down.

Peggy is helping find a way to deal with the school closures. The leader of the fight says the only way to fight may be to integrate the schools and that also means they would have to hire white teachers. Peggy’s father points out that the only way white teachers and parents would listen to such an idea is if another white person talked to them. Peggy is able to get Marion to come speak to an integrated meeting. One white male teacher tells the group that he would be willing to work at the school, that he could get other teachers, and students as well. The problem is, all of these people are Irish and if you know about how Irish immigrates were seen as back then…let’s just say this is not exactly the win that they needed. They’re white, but not the right white.

And they are turning George into more of a Robber Barron than I thought. George has agreed to many of the terms of the Union, except only some people get a raise for six months. His hope is that, in the end, the Workers Union will split apart. Specifically, he set it up so that Protestant Faith workers, who would be a good portion of the workers, will turn against the Immigrants, Catholics, and Jews. Boy is this episode a social lesson.

The Day of:

At a meeting, Ms. Astor tells everyone that Bertha will be taking a box at the Music Hall. Bertha turns her down. This, of course, embarrasses Ms. Astor and, yeah, this won’t be good.

The other business men are angry at Gorge and say he’s on his own.

Ada is told that her husband is about to die. Agnes and Forte make peace. Agnes sends for Oscar, but no one can find him.

The reason no one can find Oscar is because he had a chance encounter with George. Long story short, Oscar tells George the company he invested in (another railroad company) and Gorge tells him that company doesn’t exist. Turns out Miss Beaton doesn’t either. She’s fleeced Oscar. I wondered if this is where the story was going but…I don’t know, the way they introduced Beaton into the story made it seem like people actually knew her family; not just what Beaton had told them.

That night:

At a private reception, Bertha sees Ms. Astor with the Duke and realizes that she’s stolen him away from Bertha.

Larry, at the same party, is able to tell people about how a woman built the bridge. But since it’s at a private party, everyone will ignore it and she will be forgotten.

Forte dies overnight. Dashell, who stayed at the house, leaves for the day. After he leaves, Larry sees Marion and she tells him what happened. They go for a walk.

Oscar comes to the house and admits to Agnes that he’s been swindled. It’s almost all of their money. Why do I have a feeling the family will be "saved" because Forte had money and no one knew about it?

#the gilded age #the gilded age spoilers #agnes van rhijn #oscar van rhijn #ada brook #marion brooks #peggy scott #george russell #bertha russell #larry russell

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nicsnort · 1 month

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Trial by Fire (part 4)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

The antiseptic wipes had made Quicksilver’s face stung, but he ignored it. He’d be walking around with this for a while. Luckily, once he changed clothes, no one would remember how he had wiped out. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He figured it was a matter of time before the others figured out why the journalist stayed with them.

Bedelia Hayes. That was her name. He had looked over to ensure she wasn’t trying anything foolish about every ten seconds or so. When he looked last, he spotted her removing her shirt. If it had been anyone else, he may have offered to help -- given that she was injured, of course. But instead, he didn’t think it would...be interpreted well. Still, though he knew he should turn away and let her tend to herself in peace, he couldn’t help but stare for a moment or two longer. The freckles on her back and shoulders had caught his attention. Something about them just...distracted him, caught his focus in a way that a puzzle might.

“So you’re a redhead.” He finally called out and turned away once she started to dress again. No, given their situation and their roles -- essentially being her captor and guard -- it was best for him to stay put. He wasn’t looking forward to setting up a sort of Stockholm syndrome situation or, worse, have her think he was trying to cop a feel or a look by offering her help suddenly while she was half nude. Still, the freckles he saw seemed to be a dead giveaway, the name only confirming it.

Quicksilver stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, trying to picture her with the red hair most Irish girls seemed to have. He couldn’t. The green hair dye was actually very well done.

Bedelia smirked just a bit before she turned around. He didn’t need to say anything, he offered his conclusion to her. It was a move, just a tiny bit, towards acceptance in her view. “Yes,” she said, her parents had both immigrated from Ireland to the United States. She did not truly have an accent but it would often be sprinkled in her words when she became comfortable. “Eye and hair color are statistically what people remember the most. Hiding those makes the connection of work to my time in Genosha harder...and the color plays into the stereotype of Mutants looking different. It made getting in easier.”

Of course, that stereotype was true of most in the Brotherhood but Bedelia knew it was one of the sticking points for many humans. They could always “tell” when someone was a mutant because they looked different. It caused discrimination for humans with dyed hair at times and physical deformations or extraordinary features. And allowed many mutants to fly under the radar of bigots.

Quicksilver looked her over closely, his eyes lingering on her hands briefly. “Going off the softness of your hands doesn’t look like you spent much time in Genosha.” He saw that she had done her research though. With the pair of them as wrapped up and clean as they could be, he walked over to his door and opened it, nodding for her to walk out first. They needed to distribute food and water to the mutants they saved next.

“I had just arrived at the prison after a couple of days of processing,” she told him as they walked. “They were just about to take us out to the fields when you arrived.”

Once they were outside again, he walked with a purpose to the east side of the camping area. Thankfully, Toad and Blob were on the west side. He gathered some MREs, gave some to Bedelia to carry, and set out. Tent by tent they paused to give a few to the mutants inside. There were, to his pleasure, a lot of smiles and chatter, all of them happy to be free. It was something the X-men hadn’t done yet, he thought.

Bedelia took whatever Quicksilver handed her and dutifully followed him around. She was not about to cause trouble. Still, she listened to the mutants speak, gathering information. It was sheer habit. Seeing the two mutants she had been with when she arrived at the prison, she gave a friendly smile. They smiled back, unaware of her actual position here now.

Unless the Brotherhood demanded it, there was no need to tell everyone that she was a human. She saw a few eyeing her remaining collar with a mixture of surprise and displeasure. Of course, it reminded them of what they had just escaped from. Several had scarring from collars being in place for so long.

In the back of his mind, Quicksilver mulled over her words and the bits he had heard when he first approached Frost and Bedelia. “So you walked into slavery knowing it was slavery?” He boiled down what she had done to a sentence, wanting to ensure that he understood correctly. For someone to be so...privileged as a human, who hadn’t done hard labor before, for her to enter the fray knowing and willingly made him curious. But then, she had done it for her fame, to write a story to have her name out there. It had nothing to do with helping mutants, he thought.

“I had an exit plan, and before you ask, yes, I was going to try and take others with me.” If she survived this, she would have to recall the favor she called in. She no longer needed the fishermen’s boat to pick her up.

Handing out the rest of the food in silence, Bedelia continued working on what she needed to do to get out of here alive. When she heard Magneto’s deep baritone voice speak, she froze just slightly. Crap. Crap. She wasn’t ready for this yet.

“Quicksilver. You’re taking your time with your responsibilities.” Magneto walked over, checking the last part of the camp to ensure everyone had settled well enough. When his eyes moved over the green-haired woman near him. His expression flickered from a calm one to a brief scowl before he raised his hand. The collar around her next broke open and twisted into nothing more than a ball the size and ease of a paper ball. The smile returned to his lips.

Quicksilver gave a look to Bedelia, one that said: He doesn’t know yet. It was for the best, he thought. “She wanted to help.” He said shortly.

“And what is your name?” He asked Bedelia, almost gentle in his tone.

But the collar was removed and crushed - not crushed around her throat as she had half been expecting. He spoke to her with a softer tone than she would have thought, and then she realized that he didn’t know yet. “I am Bedelia Hayes,” she told him, inclining her head just a bit in greeting.

The older man gave a short nod. “And your real name?”

Quicksilver had to make a quick decision. If it was known that she was a human out here in the open? His pride was at stake, but he couldn’t be sure how the other mutants around them would react, though most were in their groups or in their tents. “Frost needs to speak to you, Magneto.” He informed him, hoping Bedelia took the hint and stayed quiet. “She said it’s urgent.” Given that the man still wore his helmet, it made sense that he might not be able to hear the message that Quicksilver would have.

The man of metal gave him a look before nodding. “Excuse me...Ms. Hayes.” He relented to using her given name before he walked away. Quicksilver gave a small exhale of relief and sent a mental message to Frost about what just happened.

“What was your plan for that lie, anyway?” He asked Bedelia as he kept moving. The campsite was settling down finally, meaning the Brotherhood, too, could breathe for a bit. “There would have been others on the island that would have asked.”

“I would simply tell the truth; I do not have one,” she told him as they walked back towards Brotherhood’s bunker. “I avoid lying as much as possible...when seeking the truth, it is best to be truthful yourself. I only would have lied not to blow my cover, and if I could have investigated without a mutant cover story, I would have. But as you probably know, Genosha does not allow for non-mutant outsiders to visit.”

They entered the bunker, and Bedelia realized was leading her away from the others. Of course, any confrontation had to be dealt with away from the ones they just rescued. How would it look if the Brotherhood had rescued a human or worse, let a human trick them?

Quicksilver gave a ‘hmph’ noise in response to her explanation. He was still wondering what would have happened if she had been left there on the island or if anyone found out about her here. Either situation wasn’t pleasant, for certain. He spotted his sister inside and nodded, walking over to her. “Your turn.” He lightly punched her arm, a ‘tag’ of sorts, as he slipped away before she could protest.

Bedelia stood awkwardly next to Scarlet Witch as she was “tagged” into watching her. The woman rolled her eyes at Quicksilver’s behavior. “Come along,” the witch said, and Bedelia silently followed.

~~~~~

Outside of the bunker, Magneto had approached Frost, who was just finishing handing out the few extra blankets that the Brotherhood had from the military plane they had taken. “Quicksilver said you required me?”

Frost looked up at Magneto. It wasn’t the first time Quicksilver had done this, but this time had some value. She waited until they were relatively alone before she said, “It’s about one of the women. The one you just met.” She sighed, annoyed suddenly, “If you take off your helmet, I can tell you in private.” She didn’t want to play loose with this news.

When he reluctantly did as she suggested, picking up on the situation's sensitivity, Frost explained the situation to him mentally. It was good that she did, for one more mutant walked up for a blanket as she finished. She watched his expression shift from annoyance to anger, then a calm curiosity. She knew what he was thinking even without looking into his mind. “Use her for our profit?” She smiled.

Magneto was ruminating on what Frost had told him. A human in their midsts, a human journalist in their midsts. She was obviously incredibly stupid, but she could prove useful. Profit indeed. This journalist owed them her life twice over. For rescuing her from Genosha and letting her live when they found out. Any “PR” that she could provide would not be for the humans but for mutants. The Brotherhood were not the terrorists that the media called them. They were saviors. Heroes.

“Let us speak to this journalist then and give her a proper Brotherhood greeting.”

Inside, Bedelia was handing Scarlet Witch ingredients as the woman began making a simple soup for the new mutants and Brotherhood. MREs were one thing, but the newly freed slaves deserved a real meal without giving them too much as it could make them sick after months of near starvation. Bedelia had just handed off chopped carrots when the metal around the room began to shake. She quickly moved away from the counter where the knives were and towards the center of the room. Nothing was around her; she was not a threat. Still, Bedelia could help the pit of fear in the stomach as Frost entered and crooked a finger towards her.

“Follow. He will speak with you. Make your case. You have one chance.”

Magneto was standing at his desk when they arrived in the makeshift office at the back of the building. His eyes were sharp and cold as he looked over Bedelia, far more critical than before. “Speak, journalist.”

Words. Bedelia lived on words. Here Bedelia would live or die by her words.

“I am Bedelia Hayes, freelance investigative journalist. I went to Genosha to look into the rumors of what happened to mutants on the island. In Texas, I met a mutant who had escaped Genosha, and he was able to confirm some things, but he was recaptured before I could further interview him. My job requires hard proof and evidence. I needed information. I tried gaining access to the island as a human but was blocked; I had no choice but to go in as a mutant. Dangerous, but I have always been willing to risk my life for my work.”

Bedelia stopped for just a brief moment reading his eyes. They were hard and betrayed very little emotion, but they had not shown anger. She continued. “I had just arrived in the prison when Trance, the mutant I helped onto the plane, and her comrades started their breakout. Certainly, being in the same room as the rebels' extreme suspicion would fall upon me; I would either be tortured, experimented on, or killed. So I also took the chance to leave when the Brotherhood fortuitously arrived. My chances of survival were higher with you, I weighed.”

Magneto’s eyebrow twitched just a bit. Perhaps in amusement, perhaps in disbelief.

“Which brings me here. I am quite literally powerless compared to you. The only power I have is through my platform. I have written several articles on the abuses against mutants. I saw early in my career that they needed an ally in the media, and I chose to be such. I am not an enemy of mutants. At my very worst, I am a neutral entity, as an agent of unbiased truth. But I prefer to be an ally.”

She paused a moment again. Slightly for effect. Mostly to gauge him once again. He was still waiting for something. As she spoke again, there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

“As a function of my job, I do not give up my sources nor those that aid me. If you let me go, on my honor as a journalist, I will not give any information up about you that would reveal your location or bring harm upon you. And while it goes against my inner desire, I will write you out of the Genosha narrative if you want, but I would prefer to tell the truth. The truth about Genosha and your truth if you would let me. Humans and mutants alike deserve to know the truth, don’t you agree?”

The woman knew how to have a way with words, but then again, if she didn’t, she would be a horrible journalist. Magneto gauged Bedelia by the tone she used, the earnestness. He had an idea he was certain he’d use, but it depended on the woman. “My first decision,” he said, “is whether to keep you alive or not. My second decision is what to do with you after that.” He would have to decide if she stayed or left, temporarily or forever, if she lived. “I know you will not reveal any information if I release you because Frost will make that impossible.”

Magneto studied her for a moment. It did take either a foolish woman, a brave one, or both to willingly enter Genosha knowing what it was, particularly as a mutant. Did it matter if she did it for herself or for mutants, claiming to be an ally as she did? The results would be the same. “I believe you hold purpose in staying alive. You will write your article about Genosha and your experience there. You will explain the Brotherhood’s part in it -- how we saved dozens of mutants and that our only regret in handling the battle was that we could not save more. It will be reviewed, you will be monitored, and then afterward, we can discuss what is next.”

He did not ask if she had any questions. He had told her what would happen and there was no way for her to question it. Quicksilver would have to keep an eye on her, and he and Frost would monitor her writing. A glance at the two mutants behind her at the doorway spoke of this without words.

Bedelia was relieved at the news that she had a purpose in being alive. That was what she was most concerned about. If she was alive, she could work on bettering her position. And even better, they were letting her write, monitored, but it was better than nothing. “That sounds like the truth to me,” she told him. “If there are any that were rescued willing to give their story, I would like to speak with them. To fill in the gaps in my knowledge and tug on readers' heartstrings with their statements. If you allow it, it would be useful to my work.”

Bedelia knew that she had no weight to ask anything, but she had to make her case now, she felt. Something told her that Magneto would not wish to speak with or even see her later for her to request things.

Magneto looked thoughtful just for a moment. “I cannot guarantee your safety if the mutants discover you’re human. You can inquire for volunteers,” as they would make it all the better in the story, “but it would be better to maintain your cover.”

He gave a nod to Quicksilver, and the young man stepped up. “Take her to your room. She will be staying with you.”

“Whoa, shouldn’t she stay with Wanda or Frost or someone, you know, woman-like?” Quicksilver looked unhappy at this.

Frost gave a scoff, a noiseless refusal at the doorway. Magneto looked mildly annoyed. “I am aware that having a human in our midst is unpleasant,” there was a dryness in his tone, “but given the lack of rooms, I expect you to be a gentleman. Your sister’s sleep does not always allow for company to remain safe.”

Quicksilver made a face but sighed. “Of course.” He looked at Bedelia. “Come with me.”

“Thank you,” Bedelia said to Magneto with a short nod. She was very much aware that he had the final say in how the rest treated her of the Brotherhood. Despite everything, she could tell, the man had some honor.

Following Quicksilver out, Bedelia allowed herself to relax just a bit. The worst was over with. She was allowed, at least for now, to have her life. “I’ll make sure I don’t put you out too much,” she told Quicksilver.

Quicksilver sighed as they walked down the hall. “I’ll put together a cot for you.” His room was a decent size, but knowing he’d have to lose a few feet to it and move around his things made him grumpy. And, of course, there would be the question of how she would be writing -- he would go out and steal a laptop for her.

“You might want to ask for testimonials before your roots start showing.” He remarked, thinking of how this would play out. It should be easy enough to keep it secret that she was human...he hoped.

Bedelia was about to thank him when he darted off. The speed at which he moved was terrifying. Within a minute, he had fetched and set up a cot, moved some furniture so it would fit, and placed a laptop, brand new from the looks of it, on the cot. She knew the laptop was stolen, but she was glad she wouldn’t be forced to write manually. While she worked best surrounded by her notes and photos, she preferred to write her drafts digitally. “Thank you,” she told him with a small smile.

Sitting on the cot, she flipped open the laptop and began its start-up. She assumed there wasn’t any internet here, so there was no chance of attempting to connect to the outside world. Not that she would risk calling for help, but her previous research of all publicly available information on Genosha was on the cloud. Of course, she would work best in her home office, but she was pushing her luck as it was in being allowed to interview.

With a crack of her fingers, Bedelia began to write.

____

Fanfic Masterlist

#fanfic #xmen #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #fanfiction #long reads #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #Trial by Fire

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dirtymartiniquinn · 2 years

Text

Alias

part one - part two

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the end of part one, you were stuck with a bouquet that had been delivered to your work place with a note attached to it from Joe (or should I say Steven?). Attached to it was his number. Not only that, but he also mentioned hiding a note in the book he gifted you. A lot to digest, that's for sure. Which step are you gonna take next?

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don't read if it's not your jam), fem!reader, fluff, wee bit of sadness gifted in a comfortable blanket (i hope)

Author's note: I genuinely did not expect the love for part one, for which I want to thank you all a lot! I'll save the rest of my ramble for my note at the end. One quick thing though: Irish Tom makes an appearance. If you've got no idea who that is, then you're probably not on Twitter much, because he's a big deal over there. Simply put, it's the nickname that was given to Joe in the green shirt downing a guinness in that one music video. That's all you need to know really :) Enjoy!!

Word count: 16k (almost 17k - oops)

Your hand scrubbed the rag back and forth on the beat of Meghan Trainer’s “Made You Look” that blasted through your speakers. At least, until the stain seemed too stubborn for you to keep a casual pace and you started aggressively picking up the speed, only to slow down when your arm got tired. The song hadn’t been your decision, but rather the random radio station you had put on as you didn’t want to be indecisive about which music to pick for cleaning. While it had been fun that your friend came over for drinks, her spilling red wine over your carpet and you being too drunk to notice until the next morning certainly didn’t feel great. The carpet was a light taupe and you actually loved the feeling of it under your bare feet in the morning, so you weren’t ready to say goodbye to it just yet. Maybe you should ask your mom. Or Deniz. After all, he had been going on non-stop about these cleaning videos that he was totally obsessed with lately. If you were honest with yourself though, you knew you weren’t going to contact Deniz. You avoided him outside of work because of this one question he kept repeating:

“Have you texted him yet?”

And your answer would always be the same.

“No.”

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to text him. Oh you wanted to. Badly. But what if he had changed his mind?

“Ridiculous,” Deniz had said, when you brought this excuse up for the umpteenth time. “Even if he regretted putting the note in your book, which he doesn’t, I assure you, he still wouldn’t have sent you flowers, Y/N. That wouldn’t make sense. Didn’t you say this guy is very careful with social media and all that stuff? Yet he was willing to risk giving out his number, not knowing you all that well. And he did it twice. This man didn’t make that decision on a whim. Or maybe he did, but it was a very confident first whim. The second time was definitely less of a whim.”

“Stop saying whim, it’s starting to sound weird when I think about it for too long,” you had grumbled, avoiding the subject.

“All I’m saying is if you, of all people, have ruined the cover of your book by opening and closing the book too often, I think the least you can do is text the man responsible for it. Just tell him that you’re mad and move on.”

Through the crack of your open bedroom door you could see the book Joe had given you on your nightstand. A too precious of a place for something you were trying to ignore. The thing was, you didn’t actually want to ignore it. And it was his fault that the cover of the paperback wasn’t sitting snugly on the story anymore but was lifting upwards, slightly bent at the ends. It was infuriating. You always went through a whole ordeal to ensure your books looked as neat as they did when you bought them. But then someone called Joseph had had the audacity to stick a note in between, and you, not wanting to move the note too much, had decided it would be best to just look at it from that position. Which resulted in you opening the book far too often to check if it was all real. Even if you had a very real wilting bouquet of flowers on your dinner table. No amount of proof was ever going to be enough to let it sink into your brain that you hadn’t just gone completely delusional. As much as you had seen Joe, the unapologetically British man, in those two days, you couldn’t shake that he was also still very much Joseph, the actor. You had been standing in front of the mirror, trying to convince yourself that even an actor could want you for who you were. And maybe it was true. But he wasn’t just an actor. He was Joseph, the actor. The unapologetically British man that was stupidly funny, handsome, had the right balance of wit and sarcasm and had a sense of style that made you want to eat your shoes. Everything just fit.

“And on the phone we have Steven—” The radio announced, and you groaned loudly.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you grumbled, getting up to rinse off the rag. The crack in the door was looming, calling for you like an annoying, attention seeking ray of sunshine that would take away all of your vision on a foggy morning. It worked. You gave it attention.

As you took the book in hand, you sat down on the edge of your bed and opened it. The note was still there. You had it pretty much memorized by now. Which was not something that had been on your to do list for the week, but it happened anyway.

Surprise! I doubt I’ll have the guts to ask you any other way before I have to leave, so I’m writing this in the comfort of my hotel room beforehand and hope to find a smart way to give it to you.

If you like, I’d love to take you sightseeing sometime. Let’s discuss details over the phone, yeah? Here’s my number: +44793XXXXXXX

x Joe. Or Steven. Whatever you prefer at this point, really.

A week had already passed by now. Actually, it was a little over a week. If you waited even longer, he was going to think you didn’t want to talk to him. Which frankly was the last thing you wanted to achieve, but the fact that you had already waited more than a week to respond made that a nagging thought regardless. You knew you should just text him already. Get it over with. Whatever happened after was for then to worry about, right? It would be a waste to just… do nothing. That simply wasn’t an option. Your bed was a comfortable place to toss and turn around on with your phone, typing and erasing texts, over and over. Nothing seemed right. Did you have to apologize? Of course you did. You had ignored him and his pretty bouquet for more than a week. That was rude. And you had ignored the note as well, even though you had only found it after receiving the flowers. To him that was over two weeks ago already. Great. Your brain provided you with an endless cycle of worries and reasons why this would end like a shit show.

Hi Joe, it’s Y/N. Sorry for the late response to your card. I loved the flowers a lot. I had indeed not found the note until you mentioned it, so good call! Sightseeing with you sounds lovely. I hope you’re doing alright! x Y/N

You despised the text. Nothing felt right. It was either too forward or too formal. Too cold or too desperate. It would be nice if he could smell your desperation through the text and perceive it as something beautiful. As soon as you hit send, you regret it. But there was also a sense of relief. And a newfound dread. What if it’s not really his number? What if he reads it but has already moved on to someone else he happened to meet at an event and deemed interesting enough? It was horrifying. To keep your body and mind occupied, you did a thorough cleaning of the rest of your apartment before going out and offering the neighbor to walk their dog. It was an elderly woman named Bertie, who always appreciated it whenever you offered to take her poodle Suzie on a long walk. While she was capable of letting Suzie out herself still, long walks were no longer an option for her. And so, you found yourself looking at a manic poodle who was no longer pearly white, but a combination of green and brown from the grass and mud she had been running and rolling around in. Which was fine, as she had an appointment at the dog groomer waiting for her tomorrow anyway.

The amount of times that your phone had left your pocket to sit idly in your hand while you waited for the screen to light up had risen to an incredibly embarrassingly high number. He could be busy. Your time zones were a little off, but not enough to think it would be a highly inconvenient time. At least, if he was in London. Who knew where the man was at, with his busy schedule. Once you realized that you might have texted him at a weird time, your worries only increased. Surely he had enough experience with receiving texts at odd times by now? You groaned in frustration at being able to do nothing else but wait and were met with a funny look from a passerby. As much as you wanted to prolong your stay at the dog park, after a while even hyperactive Suzie had had enough and it was time to go home. On the way back you received a number of messages of which none were from Joe, resulting in you muting a couple of group chats and even a few people that you just didn’t want to let become the cause of one of your mini heart attacks right now.

The evening set and after a lousy dinner, you watched a comfort show on Netflix just to make time go faster. You figured he might give you a hard time and take his sweet time to respond, but you hoped he would spare you the horror. The horror you had so selfishly not spared him in return. Not that he would have been staring at his phone like you were doing right now, surely. Eventually, sleep got the better of you and you dragged your tired mind to bed. You fell into a fairly easy slumber after tiring your mind with overthinking. At least, until your phone started to buzz.

“Fuck me,” Joe mumbled to himself, looking at his phone with squinting eyes, the light being way too bright for his current state. Waking up to have this be the first thing he saw aside from the ceiling was not what he had anticipated for this morning. He read the text over and over, pinching himself as he very much felt like he was still asleep. His heart was steadily picking up the pace. By now he had honestly not expected you to text him. It had been over two weeks after all. One if you hadn’t seen the first note. He’d assumed that you would have texted him sooner if you had been willing to meet up. The text felt a little stand-offish somehow. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but then again he also couldn’t think of another way of forming those sentences to make it less… awkward? His note had been awkward too. Both of them. He groaned tiredly as he put his phone down to rub his face with his hands, only to pick it up to look at it again. At least you had texted him back, right?

Joe had had a pretty rough week. The first one had been pure agony already, but after not hearing from you a second time, he was sure he had misread the signs you apparently had not given him. He was single for a reason. It had been the third day of moping around after sending you the flowers that Andrew, one of his best mates whose apartment he was currently residing at, had told him to suck it up. There was no way in hell this woman didn’t like him, according to his mate.

“You’re the internet boyfriend now, no woman is gonna pass that up even if you looked like a donkey’s arse,” Andrew had told him, “and believe it or not, you don’t look like a donkey’s arse.”

Well wasn’t that lovely to know. Could definitely add that to his CV. It didn’t matter what Andrew said, though. He could care less about being the internet boyfriend or the knowledge that women would throw themselves at him given the chance. He only cared whether you had any interest in doing so, and preferably not in a ‘throwing yourself at him’ kind of way, but rather a ‘I am genuinely interested in you as a person and would love to get to know you better’ kind of way. Dating was a drag as it was, and the addition of becoming this internet sensation had only made it worse. He didn’t trust that the women he went on dates with actually went with him because of his silly one liners, or his music taste, or his knowledge of food. He could usually tell by the glint in their eyes whenever he started to bring his work into the conversation. It was the worst. And the best, because he hadn’t seen that familiar glint in your eyes in the slightest.

His eyes were still glued to his phone when he dragged himself out of the guest room, through the living room and towards the bathroom. What should he text back? He vaguely noticed movement on the couch from the corner of his eye, yet wasn’t alerted by it until he connected the sounds coming from that same direction to a certain leisure activity. His eyes flew up automatically as a high pitched voice shrieked, followed by the distressed voice of Andrew. The latter quickly scrambled to grab a blanket to cover what seemed to be a woman he was hooking up with. In the morning? A quick glance at the scattered clothes on the ground made Joe guess that they hadn’t slept yet.

“Uh— Shit, sorry,” Joe apologized quickly, averting his eyes and making his way to the bathroom a little quicker. He suddenly felt very naked in just his boxer briefs, even though he was the only one in the room wearing any clothes currently. Blankets didn’t count.

“You’re good,” Andrew sighed after he quickly guided the woman to his room and stuck his head outside, “I thought you were supposed to be gone like an hour ago? That event?”

Joe turned around and gaped at him for a good five seconds before looking down at his phone. Fuck. Fuck.

“What got you so distracted?” His mate asked, noting that it was quite out of character for Joe to be late.

“She texted.”

“Y/N?” “Y/N.”

“I told you she would. See? Fussing about and for what?” Andrew grinned, before glancing subtly into his room. “Anyway… I got something to do here.”

“You mean someone,” Joe pointed out dryly. This got a hearty laugh out of Andrew who disappeared into his room and resumed undisturbed this time. Within fifteen minutes, Joe found himself in an uber, which must have been a record. His hair looked a bit wild, but otherwise he was presentable. He took out his phone again, trying to think of what to say, when he got a text from his stylist asking where he was. Perhaps he’d reply later, then.

There had been no time to calmly put together a text to send you. He didn’t want to rush it, not now that you had finally replied. And now it was already evening. Instead of going back to the apartment straight away, he found himself at a rooftop bar with an outlook on the beach where he had had dinner and a drink. Still holding the Guinness in his hand, which he had been surprised to see on the menu at a bar like this, he watched as a flock of birds flew across the horizon where the sun was already setting so low it had taken most of its light away. Looking down at his phone again he shook his head and decided to just call you instead. About ten seconds in of listening to the beeping and absently wondering if the sunset had looked as pretty in London tonight as it did here right now in Los Angeles, he suddenly clasped his hand over his mouth and hung up the call with panicky fingers. Shit shit shit.

As you were from Europe, the time difference could well mean that he had just called you at possibly four in the morning, if not later. Way to make a first ‘distanced’ impression, Joe, he thought meekly. His screen suddenly lit up and in his haste he turned down your call, thinking he had accidentally been pressing things and called you again. He groaned out loud now, his hand finding his face to drag his fingers from his forehead down to his chin, an exasperated sigh following it.

“Right, that’s it,” he mumbled to himself. He was just going to call you again. Fuck up once, fuck up twice, might as well just pay the price.

“Hello?” You asked hesitantly, wondering if he was going to hang up again. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest.

“Uhm, hi! Sorry? Sorry. I didn’t think of the timezones. And then I accidentally hung up on you,” Joe said nervously on the other end. “We could call tomorrow, if— if you want, of course.”

“That sounds like a smart idea,” you agreed with a soft chuckle. “But first I want to say thank you, for the flowers, and the note. I really liked them both. Sorry if my text was, I don’t know, weird.” You winced at your rambling but a subtle laugh from him made up for it instantly.

“A little,” he agreed and you could literally hear him smiling, confirmed by a soft giggle leaving his lips. “It’s always a little awkward, isn’t it? I hope I didn’t push you to respond, with the flowers and all that.”

“Oh, no! Not at all. I was just overthinking it, delaying my response. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Me too. At first. I kind of nearly called your office but decided against it,” he admitted. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of the reaction that would have had in the office. More than a few people had been jealous to hear that it had ended up being Joe instead of David, wanting to know all about it. Melody and Petra in particular. You had kept it professional, leaving out that you had had dinner and met up the day after. Nevertheless, their jealousy was evident. Had either of them picked up the phone… Remembering that you were still on a call you quickly shrugged it off.

“Oh that would have been a disaster, you’d never hear the end of it.”

“Is that so? Why’s that?”

“Some people at the office have the hots for you,” you said casually, earning a surprised hum from the other end.

“Do they now?” A quiet beat. “Have I met them? At the event, by any chance?” The question itself was innocent, his tone of voice however, was not. Was he flirting? A smile crept onto your lips as you tried to remain calm, your heart beating in your chest so loud you were scared he could hear it all the way over wherever he was.

“Not all of them. Do you want me to slip them your number?”

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Nah, I’m good. I recently met someone, kind of wanting to see where things will go with them.”

“Mmh, I see. Well, the offer stands,” you say lightly, although there was obviously no way in hell that you would ever give his number to the likes of them. If he wanted them to have his number, he could send them flowers. “Where are you now anyway?”

“LA. Flying back the day after tomorrow though.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were still incredibly tired. Which meant you had to yawn almost every 30 seconds to your own annoyance.

“Oh that’s,” another yawn escaped your mouth, “...nice. Sorry. How is it?”

“Maybe I should let you sleep,” he voiced kindly. “How about I call you again tomorrow? Or text, if you prefer that. I don’t want you to wake up exhausted tomorrow, or, in a few hours I should say.”

“No. It’s still today.” Another yawn. “Tomorrow comes after I really wake up.”

Joe let out a gentle laugh.

“Okay, tomorrow it is.”

“Maybe text first though, just in case.”

“Alright, will do. Well, uhm, good night then, yeah.”

You chuckled softly.

“Goodnight Joe.”

“Night Y/N.”

The next day you spent the majority of your time working on a training you were supposed to give some interns on Friday while trying hard to not check your phone all the time. If he was going to become the reason your hand was chronically glued to your phone, he would have to pay up. You weren’t sure how yet, but you’d think of something. When your phone lit up right as you were making yourself a coffee, you had expected it to be Deniz as you had just sent him some files to check. Working on the weekends wasn’t exactly your favorite and it wasn’t exactly the way things were supposed to go, but you made do. Something had to be done for you to be able to pay the rent. Your heart skipped a beat when it wasn’t Deniz, but Joe.

Hey x

Hope you slept well

You hadn’t, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

Hi x Like a baby. What about you? So… you woke up four times a night, crying for god knows what?

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile and you found yourself typing back immediately, throwing all texting rules in the wind. He replied fast as well, so why shouldn’t you? Despite your eagerness you still took a sip from your well deserved coffee first.

Something like that! Except I woke up only once, because someone decided to call me in the middle of the night…

What a jerk. Did you tell him to fuck off?

Not exactly… we’re kind of texting.

Hmmm, not sure that’s the best idea… How about you call me instead? I’m fun

You’re fun?

Very

I dare you to prove it.

Not even ten seconds later, Joe called you. Did a silly impression of an actor you had no idea of, but you laughed anyway. It was the way he presented it, the sillyness, the charming giggle at the end. After that, he finally answered your question whether he had slept well, which he had, and he told you about his plans in LA for the upcoming days. You told him about your plans for the week, which were sadly mostly work related. As your conversation progressed, Joe seemed to dilly dally around a subject, which you certainly weren’t going to bring up yourself, but you really hoped he would. Finally, he cleared his throat after expressing his love for this little Italian place he had discovered yesterday. A short silence pursued, almost too long to not comment on it, but then he spoke up.

“So… the note. I was thinking, if you can get time off that is, as it’s a bit short notice, but maybe we could meet up next week? Friday 'till Sunday?”

“Oh, gosh, I’ll have to ask. But where do you want to meet? I know you mentioned sightseeing, but…”

“Amsterdam. I’ll arrange the hotel, separate rooms of course, you just have to get there. We could meet at the airport, go to the hotel together if you like.”

“I’m not sure if I have the budget for all of that,” you admitted hesitantly, already cursing yourself for being honest and possibly ruining the best opportunity in romance you’d ever had. Joseph hummed, sounding like he was taking in your words thoughtfully before responding.

“Oh, if the plane ticket is too expensive I can—“

“No no no, I just meant everything as a whole,” you said quickly.

“All you have to worry about is the plane ticket. The rest is on me.”

“Joe, I can’t… that’s too much.” You didn’t even want to think about what it would cost him, the answer would be the same no matter what: Too much. As much as you wanted to see him, you weren’t the type of person to just blindly accept huge gifts from someone. Not even people you were close to. So for him to offer a weekend getaway on his behalf was a lot to digest.

“Look, I really want to see you again. If the three days are a little much we could just meet up once and leave it at that, treat the rest as a little break from work. No obligations whatsoever. How’s that sound?” he asked you then. You noticed he sounded nervous. Not in an obvious way, rather that he seemed to be holding onto his breath, waiting for your answer.

“Only if you let me pay you back as soon as I can,” you demanded. It went against your principles to accept, but how could you not? This compromise made it a little easier to agree, and after some hesitation Joe went along with it.

“Alright, sure. Why not. Deal.”

“And of course I’d love to spend the majority of those days with you.” You didn’t want to say all, as it could possibly imply something. The fact that you were literally traveling to another country to meet up with a man you honestly barely knew was already enough of a challenge as it was, no matter how charming he was. You couldn’t help but ponder over the weirdness of it all. Wouldn’t normal people text longer instead? Keep it long distance? Then again, maybe he had become so used to traveling that perhaps it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. Or maybe he just wanted to see you as badly as you did him.

“Great! And I mean it, no obligations. If you change your mind after spending a never ending boring Friday with me, you’re free to change plans. Obviously. But I wanted to emphasize it,” he assured you.

“I’ll still have to get the okay from my boss though. There’s a possibility I might have to bring along some work… To get him to say yes.”

Joe understood that it wasn’t always easy to get days off from work which of course was no surprise. With the promise of immediately asking your boss, you eventually hung up. You decided to call your boss instead of text or email him, wanting to get an immediate response. Surprisingly, he agreed to your day off as long as you would do some extra hours the next week and still gave the interns their training on Friday evening. It wasn’t perfect, but certainly better than you had expected it to go. When you told Joe the good news, he was delighted.

That’s brilliant! I’ll find us a nice place to stay. Whenever you have time, can you let me know which flight you want to take? I’ll do my best to find one around the same hour. As for Friday, that’s a bit of a bummer, but it’ll be fine. I’m really excited! x

Up until Friday, you texted throughout the day whenever you could find the time. With your busy schedules and the time difference it wasn’t exactly easy to get quick responses, but you both found yourselves glued to your phones when you realized the other had a moment of free time to chat. You discussed the sightseeing that you wanted to do and decided on at least two that you had previously mentioned. It felt almost criminal how easy it was to talk to him. How normal it felt to be meeting him again in a couple days.

After his unwavering support, you had decided to tell Deniz about it. Not just for that reason, but also because you knew he would be texting you nonstop if you didn’t show up at work without telling him why. You had FaceTimed and his shiteating grin had been impossible to wipe from his face.

“Oh he is down bad, sister,” Deniz purred and you vigorously shook your head in front of your phone, getting a laugh out of your work bestie.

“He is! Paying for a hotel and whatnot? For three days straight, in another country? Come on Y/N. I know you’re a bit oblivious sometimes but you can’t be this oblivious,” he told you.

“As if you wouldn’t be if you were in my shoes!” You protested meekly. “It’s really weird, okay? He’s big.”

When Deniz nearly choked on his water and started to belt a mixture of coughing and laughter, you rolled your eyes.

“I mean as an actor. You know what I meant. Why am I even explaining it to you,” you sighed. Deniz shrugged, a grin still evident on his face.

“Oh I don’t know, getting a rise out of you is fun. So, tomorrow? What time?”

“I’m arriving just past one. He’ll be there a little sooner so if he can make it he’ll wait at my gate. If not, he’s going to text me where else to meet him.”

“I’m so excited for you.”

You smiled, nervous butterflies stealing the show in your stomach.

“So am I.”

FRIDAY Amsterdam 01:25 PM

The suitcase felt too heavy as you hastily made your way down to where you were going to meet Joe. His flight had been slightly delayed, meaning you would be out at around the same time. So instead of waiting at the terminal, he had offered to wait near the exit towards the trains.

You spotted him from a mile away. There was something about the way he stood there, suitcase in hand, standing straight while trying to blend in with everyone else in the area, wearing a black hat and sunglasses on top of them. Oh, Joe. He was wearing a white T-shirt and loose blue jeans, Adidas underneath. It was a nice, casual outfit. His jacket lay discarded on the suitcase. Although you spotted him quickly, it took him having you stand right in front of him to snap out of his daydream. If you could, you would have wanted to replay the way his face lit up upon seeing you over and over again.

“Y/N!” He stepped forward, his luggage forgotten as he pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arm around him and you could smell his perfume as he tucked his chin into the crevice of your neck. It didn’t feel real yet that you were actually seeing him in real life again, but when his scent soared into your nostrils like a memory never forgotten, it sunk in. You answered his beaming smile with one of your own. “How was your flight?” He asked as he pulled back, keeping his hands on your elbows.

“Joe,” you said, greeting him back at last. “It was alright, yours?” He shrugged.

“Apart from the delay, it went pretty smoothly. Did you have lunch yet?” You nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy around him.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asked with a soft smile as you started to walk towards the exit that led to the trains.

“Sorry, no, just a bit nervous.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he smirked, lightly nudging you with his elbow. “I was thinking we could go to Anne Frank’s house after we get settled in our rooms? I assume we need less time for that one than the other stuff so the afternoon should be fine, according to the reviews. Of course, we can also just grab a drink if you’d rather relax today.” His eyes flicked to your face to check your expression, only to remove his gaze again as soon as you looked up. On top of that, his jacket had slipped off his suitcase and with a soft curse word he turned around to pick it up. That man was nervous.

“I think that’s a great idea, the first one. We’ll have time to relax in the evening, won’t we?” You offered kindly, your smile adding to the attempt to relax him even though you weren’t relaxed yourself at all. Somehow it was easier to pretend that you were because he clearly displayed the opposite. It seemed to help, as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Yeah, you’re right!” He turned to look at the departure times of the trains, trying to find the right one. “Let’s see…”

“Platform 8, right?” You offered, pointing to the left screen. Joe turned to look at you shortly and smiled before he let you lead him to the ticket station. You had been here several times before after all, it only made sense. The train ride was fairly short, so you decided to stay in the section near the doors where you sat down on tip-up seats instead of getting into a compartment. Due to the noise from the train that’s always louder in these in-between sections, you didn’t really talk. Instead, you gazed out of the small windows from the train door next to you, and Joe was doing the same on the opposite side. Or so you thought. In reality, he was watching you.

Joe didn’t even wait to ask to carry your suitcase up the stairs when you realized the elevator was out of service. Didn’t wait for the other elevator to be cleaned, just hoisted up both your suitcases and started walking up the stairs. All the way up to the fifth floor. Your rooms weren’t next to one another due to unavailability, but they were in the same hallway with only about seven or eight rooms in between. After Joe guided you to your room, he excused himself to freshen up and change into something ‘more appropriate’ whatever that might have meant. In all honesty he didn’t even know the answer to that himself, he just needed to get rid of his sweaty T-shirt. Although it wasn’t exactly necessary, you felt the need to change as well, and swapped your T-shirt for a nice green top with a three quarter sleeve. Since the rest of your outfit was neutral and leaned to a pretty much colorless aesthetic, the pop of green worked delightfully for your overall appearance. You touched up your makeup just slightly, which only consisted of a bit of eyeshadow and mascara. When you looked into the mirror you debated adding more, but the gentle knock on the door stopped you from doing so.

“It’s Joe.” His voice came through the door. You had assumed as much, although nowadays it didn’t hurt to make yourself known just in case. When you opened the door, his eyes only widened slightly before a relaxed smile settled on his lips.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You ready?”

You nodded and quickly walked back to grab your jacket. “I am now.”

Joe had changed into a white button down, rolled up at the sleeves, same jeans, same shoes. Instead of his suitcase, his arm had now taken the role of carrying his jacket. Once you had left the hotel, it turned out that Joe knew exactly where to go and how to get there. Had it all planned out. When you mentioned it, a blush tainted his cheeks. It remained for the rest of the ride, although he did try to pretend that it was hot on the tram as an excuse for the pink shade.

“Just thought it would be nice if we didn’t have to think about all that on the spot,” he had said, and you could only agree.

After a fairly short time of waiting in line in front of the museum, you were allowed in. For the most part, the museum consisted of photos and tiny descriptions about the people that had been part of Anne’s life. It wasn’t a big museum, but it felt like one of those that you just had to have seen at least once in your life. There was a picture wall in Anne Frank’s room, and of course the famous bookcase where they had hidden behind. Joe took it all in quietly, just like you, and occasionally nudged you if he saw something he wanted to share. You went ahead on the small staircase that led to the attic and held out his hand for balance.

“Thank you,” you said softly, not wanting to disturb the people who were lost in their own thoughts. It bothered you a bit that you were at a loss on what to say to him. You had FaceTimed, texted, called, with not all that much awkwardness and now he stood next to you, his brows furrowed as he examined the room in full concentration, his hands behind his back, you had nothing to say. It worried you that he might find you boring, although he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You just weren’t sure. The gift shop had you occupied for a little while, mostly just to admire all the different products they had based on Anne and her story.

You decided to go for a walk until you found something to get a drink, which resulted in you ending up at The Dam. It was nice to have a familiar sight where you had already been with him. Your eyes fell on a stall where you noticed the famous stroopwafels that you hadn’t had last time. After Joe had left at the bookstore last time, you had settled on getting some store bought ones, which were good but never as nice as the ones they prepared right on the spot.

“Have you ever had fresh, uhm, no idea how to pronounce this but… stroopwafels before?” You asked Joe curiously. He snapped his head towards you, immediately out of his trance that he had gotten into due to a comfortable silence and having lots of things around him to take in.

“I haven’t, is it good?” His eyes flicked over to the stall, following your gaze towards it after you nodded. He watched how a couple took one each and seemed pretty delighted after a bite. He focused on you again and found himself unable to look away from your pretty face. It was obvious you were craving one and you looked rather cute while doing so.

“You want one?”

“Yes, and I’m paying,” you said immediately before his hand could even move an inch towards his wallet. “They sell drinks too, want anything?”

“Y/N, you really don’t have to—”

“Come on, Joe. You’re not gonna win this argument,” you told him with a soft smile. He narrowed his eyes at you for a couple seconds and then caved, seeing that you were determined.

“I would love a coffee, thank you.”

“And a stroopwafel I presume?”

“Uhm— yes! Please.”

Joe scratched the back of his neck as he joined you in the short line in front of the stall and you couldn’t help but smile at his demeanor.

“What is it?” Joe wanted to know, curiosity getting the better of him after spending a couple minutes fidgeting with his sleeve, readjusting it.

“Nothing, just thought you looked cute.” When Joe’s eyes widened just slightly, yours nearly bulged out of their sockets as you scrambled together another response. “I— I mean, just—”

“No, no you're fine! I actually have been wanting to mention that you look really pretty today,” he said bashfully, his hand going back up to his neck to soothe his nerves a little. “Green suits you really well,” he managed to add.

“Oh, thank you, you’re making me shy now,” you mumbled softly, a shy smile on your lips. Joe smiled in return and nudged your side gently.

“Me too.”

“Volgende. Volgende! Oh… tourists. Next! Come on lovebirds, there's a line here.” The lady from the stall looked at you both impatiently and you hurriedly told her your order after you apologized. A few minutes later you had found yourselves a place to sit with a nice view of the performers on the square. Joe groaned in delight as soon as he got through his first bite and looked at you with big eyes.

“This is delicious! So fucking good— Sorry. I’ve got a foul mouth sometimes,” he said, though not really sounding sorry at all.

“Oh come on, no need to pretend like you care,” you smirked. “Swear away. It’s good, right? I can never skip it when I’m here.” Joe grinned and quickly covered his mouth and shrugged as he did before he replied.

“I mean I do care a little bit. Just trying to make a good impression I guess. Well neither will I from here on out, I know that much.”

“You’ve left a great impression already, I doubt you’ll taint it by a bit of swearing Joe.” You meant what you said, how could you not? He had literally gone out of his way to meet you again in the Netherlands to live out the plan you had had in mind for his last day before everything changed. He had sent you flowers. He had sent you sweet good night messages on occasion. There was nothing that he could—

“Thank you, by the way, for this.” He held up the stroopwafel and you smiled warmly as you gave him a nod. The man even showed his gratitude for something small while he had been treating you to so much already.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Yeah. There was nothing that he could do to jeopardize all that. And as of right now, all he had been doing so far was lift your impression of him even higher up the scale.

After having dinner together at the hotel, which was just for convenience, you had to give the training to your interns. None of them seemed very happy having to do that on a Friday evening, but your company did more questionable things like that, which they were sadly used to by now. Joe had given you some privacy and retreated to his own room while you sat in your own with your laptop, background blurred. You tried to keep the training as short as possible which the interns greatly appreciated and you told them to send any lingering questions to your email, as none of them seemed very insistent on keeping the call on any longer than necessary. It was after you shut your laptop down that you noticed you had a text. There was a photo attached to it.

Is your minibar also filled with this stuff?

You smiled and checked out your minibar which indeed showed the same contents as Joe had. Several bottles of wine, gin, tequila and vodka. Considering everything was probably insanely expensive,you quickly closed the minibar just to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break something.

Yeah, it is!

It took less than fifteen seconds for Joe to respond.

Oh, you’re done? Wanna come over?

To your room?

Yeah

Oh dear. There was no way you were going to say no to that. Before you could even had a chance to overthink on what to respond he added:

Wear something comfortable

While you surely hadn’t intended for Joe to see you in anything but normal clothes, you still found yourself putting on your sports leggings and a T-shirt before heading over to his room. You gently knocked once and could hear his hurried footsteps as he made his way to the door.

“Hey you,” he greeted you with a smile as he stepped aside to let you in. Your rooms were pretty much identical apart from the fact that your armchair was yellow and his was a dark green.

“Hi, sorry it took so long,” you apologized, which in turn made Joe shake his head.

“No need, it’s work. I get that,” he told you while his gaze lingered on you, as if to say of all people, he’d definitely understand. “I was thinking we could maybe watch something. I got us some snacks and drinks from a local supermarket,” he explained as he sat down on the perfectly made up bed.

“I’d love that,” you told him with a smile and you hesitantly sat down on the other side of his bed, watching how he lifted his legs upon which you mirrored after taking your shoes off. He had already propped the pillows up behind himself and quickly reached over to do the same for you before you even had a chance to lean back. With the remote in hand, he started browsing through the hotel’s catalog and pointed out a few options.

“I’ve heard Miracle Workers is fun,” you mentioned after he had scrolled for a bit.

“Sure, let’s watch that.”

After going through the process of renting the first episode, he poured you both some drinks and put the bags of chips and candy in between the two of you.

“How was the work thing?”

“Oh, it was fine. We all wrapped it up as quickly as we could and we’ll deal with the rest on Monday.”

Joe nodded as he had just popped some candy into his mouth and made a funny gesture as he tried to speed up the process.

“That’s good. My god that took forever.”

You felt very aware of his presence next to you as you watched the show and you tried really hard not to be distracted. In a futile attempt to ground yourself you put both of your hands flat on the bed next to you, trying to focus on the soft sheets rather than the Sounds of his dry chuckles that made your heart skip a beat. He seemed completely engrossed in it, as if it was all that was left of his world now. Him and the TV show. You firmly believed he had forgotten about you even being there until you felt a warm hand cover yours and grab it. You didn’t dare to look at him at first, but when you did his eyes were still trained on the screen, his cheeks carrying a pinkish tint to them.

“I think that guy is gonna mess it all up. What’s his name again?”

“Alf…red? Brian? I don’t know.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah those names are absolutely similar too. Anyway, you know who I mean, yeah?”

You nodded and you felt him squeeze your hand for just a second. Just a subtle reminder that he was still in fact aware of your hand in his. It took him about 40 minutes and another rental to start stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You sat like that for the rest of six or seven episodes, which made grabbing snacks somewhat of a challenge although Joe made sure to hold out one of the bags to you regularly. Occasionally either of you would comment on the show and you’d discuss or laugh about it and everything just felt very natural. Apart from the fact that it all happened in a hotel room, maybe.

“How do you feel about going to the Van Gogh museum tomorrow? It’s the last weekend of the exhibition,” he suggested, his thumb still running slow circles on your hand as he turned his head to look at you.

“Oh, you remembered!” You exclaimed, a tad too loudly for your liking but the grin on his face made up for it.

“I did,” he said almost proudly. “I’ll take that’s a yes then?” You nodded and matched his expression, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, of course! It seems to be really beautiful.”

“That’s good, cause… I may already have tickets. Which is good because it was sold out when I checked earlier.” He shrugged casually and you softly shook your head at him.

“You really came prepared, huh?”

Joe smiled bashfully.

“I might have, yes.” He checked his phone for the time and gently let go of your hand.

“Let’s have breakfast at the hotel and then head to the museum. And we’ll just see how the day goes before we make other plans. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” You got up from the bed at the same time he did, feeling slightly mixed on how nothing happened but some hand holding. While you loved that he was taking his time, you just… wouldn’t have minded some making out, you know? At the same time you wouldn’t want to rush anything and if he took whatever you two had going on right now seriously, it was only a good thing. He followed you to the door and the moment you stepped back to get out of his room, he wrapped you in a hug. His scruffy beard tickled your neck a little.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Nine?”

“Nine’s a good time,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around him. His hand found the back of your head and when he pulled away, you daringly pressed a kiss onto his cheek.

“Well, good night then!” You quickly said as you turned on your heel, making him stumble over his words as he was still recovering from your unexpected kiss on the cheek.

“Y-Yes! Good night Y/N.”

SATURDAY

When you took in each other’s appearance the next day, you realized you both had unconsciously gone for similar outfits, judging by your black from top to bottom turtle neck, jeans and boots, topping it off with a large coat. You later on confessed that you had debated wearing a black beanie to which he had replied that it was getting scary now, as he had been doing the exact same thing. The only difference in your outfits was the color of your coats, as you wore a brown one and he wore an emerald green. No matter how many times you stole a glance, you kept repeating the same thought in your mind over and over.

He looks so hot.

Joe sometimes lost sight of you in the large rooms but always managed to pop up right behind you the moment you realized you had wandered off too far. Sometimes, he’d rest his chin onto your shoulder to read along what the description of a painting said, or just to discuss some details of a painting with you. Right as you entered the hall of the exhibition, you felt lingering eyes on you. It made you want to look around to see where they came from, but then again you didn’t want to alert them to anything.

“I think we’re being watched,” you mentioned softly, wanting to give Joe a heads up so he had time to decide whatever he wanted to do with that information. Joe nodded and took your hand in yours, as if to comfort you.

“I know.” He continued to walk around unbothered, although you could tell he was slowly searching for an escape route. The subtle change in atmosphere almost made you miss out on the wonderful exhibition. Left and right of you, the walls consisted of four large paintings that seemed to move and next to each frame was a door that you could enter. In every room, there was a 3D version of one of the paintings where you could walk around in real time. It was an experience meant to bring Van Gogh’s art to you in a more immersive way.

Only after you entered the door next to the painting of a sunflower field in front of a barn, you realized that the movement you had spotted on the paintings earlier had been people who were walking in this room, essentially bringing the painting to life. You noticed a group of girls now following you more obviously and you pulled Joe along in the sunflower field. It was much bigger and had way more layers to it than you’d expect it to have when looking at the frame displayed on the wall. Just when you wanted to say something, Joe pulled you to the back of the room towards the “barn”, past a large group of tourists. He took you aside, his body hovering closely next to you as he pulled you into a hug, his head buried into your neck which sketched a different view for outsiders to see.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into your neck, his lips grazing your skin by accident. “I thought it would maybe get them to leave before we do if they can’t find us.”

“You think their eyes didn’t follow you like hawks?” You mumbled in return, to which he softly chuckled while his arms relaxed around your waist.

“Fair point,” he mumbled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Still… ‘s not so bad, is it?”

“You mean this, right now?”

Joe hummed to confirm and you shook your head, relaxing your arms as well. His warm breath tickled your skin and you could feel every nerve in your body focusing on the places where his body touched yours.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed softly, letting your eyes close for a moment to take it all in. His thumbs Never ceased their movement of drawing circles on your back and you soon found yourself copying the movement. After a moment, Joe decided to break the silence.

“Is it just me or has it become quiet in here?” You opened your eyes slowly, your eyes narrowing at the projector light and looked around.

“Everyone’s gone,” you said a little surprised, not expecting to literally be the only ones left. As soon as the words had left your mouth, new people came in.

“I guess the coast is clear,” Joe sighed and he finally let you go, though not before giving your hand a light squeeze. You smiled softly at him and gestured towards the exit.

“Do you want to check out the other rooms?”

“Absolutely.”

This time you spent a little longer in the gift shop and you decided to buy two tiny paintings on an easel with one being a replica of “Starry Night” and another one of “Almond Blossoms”. In turn, Joe had bought his best friend a print of “Head of a skeleton with a burning cigarette”, which he found undoubtedly funny because of their never ending love for nicotine. It was a curse, he had said, but one that brought you unexpected company every now and then. He had no idea you had bought two paintings as you had only shown him one, wanting to give the other one to him later.

The next activity you had gone for was a boat excursion through the canals. You had some time to kill before dinner, which Joe had apparently already reserved a table for as well, so you decided you might as well check out the view by daylight this time. You sat near the window while Joe leaned closely to you whenever he wanted to get a closer look, his arm always on the backrest of the bench you were sitting on. He loved pointing out things to you that often had nothing to do with the sightseeing itself, such as two birds fighting over a piece of bread in the water and a third one flying away with it. Several people in the boat had wondered why he suddenly had belted out laughter and you had to cover your mouth to soften your giggles the moment his ears started to turn a crimson red.

“Oh shut up,” he had mumbled with a smile, giving your shoulder a little nudge as another giggle escaped your lips.

“So which one were you rooting for?” You had then asked him softly to which he had responded:

“The French one.” Which had not made sense at all, and by the time you arrived back at the dock you and Joe had descriptively been dressing up pigeons in your head, with baguettes and barrettes and all kinds of other things.

The restaurant had been fancier than any you’d ever stepped foot in. Five courses, each one more luxurious than the next. He wasn’t up for discussion about the bill and pointed out that you had treated him too earlier, as if the stroopwafel came anywhere near the price range of even one bite of your course. You hadn’t dared to bring up your gift for him in a place like that, as your plan originally had been. Instead, you enjoyed listening to Joe talk about his friends and family back home and you also shared some tidbits about your own.

It didn’t surprise you that you had been holding a breath of relief until the moment you stepped out of the restaurant and Joe gave you a funny look.

“Not your scene?” He asked curiously and you shrugged.

“Just not used to it is all. The food was absolutely amazing though, as was the service. You really picked a good place.” You explained with a kind smile.

“Yeah someone recommended it to me, so I figured it was worth a shot. He usually has good taste. I’m glad you enjoyed it. So… where to next?” His eyes curiously watched your expression, trying to gauge what you wanted and if you’d actually be honest about it.

“Is it weird that I’m feeling a beer?” You asked as you slightly squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows knitting together. Whatever answer he had expected, it certainly wasn’t this.

“You’re really asking me, Sir Guinness, whether I want to go for a beer?”

“Wait, Sir Guinness?”

Joe quickly shook his head, realizing he said too much. “Ignore that, focus on the other stuff,” he said hastily.

“I do recall overhearing this girl asking you about a music video where you were drinking Guinness last time…” you started, enjoying how his face turned a little desperate at the mention of it.

“You heard nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t “Sir Guinness” that she said, though. I have to admit I tried finding what she was talking about at the time but, no luck…” you smiled slyly at him. “Maybe you could show me?” He shook his head so many times that you lost count, his hand going up to emphasize what he was saying.

“Oh hell no. Nope. Can’t do that. I won’t. I won’t! Out of the question. You can ask me anything but that,” he said resolutely.

“Your audition tape, then.”

“That was quick,” he remarked with a faint smirk.

“I have my priorities. It seems to be a big deal in your fandom still. Are you gatekeeping it?”

“It’s—,” Joseph sighed. “Sort of. I can show you some other time, it’s on my laptop at home.” Then, he blinked a couple times and pulled a funny expression as if he was confused.

“Hold on, how did this conversation start, for me to end up with me promising to show you my audition tape?”

“Beer.”

“Right! Beer. I know a nice Irish pub, do you want to go there?” He offered.

“Sure Sir Guinness, let’s go. Oh! I remembered. She called you Irish Tom.”

“Irish Tom?!”

“Don’t ask me, I haven’t even seen the video.”

“Tom, really? Why don’t I remember this?”

You simply shrugged.

“I believe you misheard them and then they didn’t repeat it because everything happened kinda rushed.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied simply, until a frown dawned on his face. “Wait. Why do you remember this?”

“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t have anything to do.”

“So you eavesdropped?”

His teasing grin made you automatically follow him as he started to walk towards, you assumed, the Irish pub.

“I overheard.”

“That’s what they all say, don’t they?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Do they? You seem experienced in the matter.”

“Are you accusing me of being a professional eavesdropper? Cause if so—”

“No I was just—”

“— You’d be right.”

A laugh that could have matched one of a Disney villain who was bad at being a villain left his mouth and he leaned back to hook arms with you.

“Come on. This way.”

The pub was crowded in a good way. Meaning that it wasn’t so full of people that you couldn’t get your own table, but it had enough commotion to sit and chat fairly unnoticed unless you brought attention to yourself. You had started out at the bar, going for a tropical beer while Joe immediately went for a Guinness, true to his name. Two drinks later you had managed to snatch a booth for the two of you which gave you plenty of room. Although, Joe had decided he wanted to sit next to you instead of across, which didn’t leave you much room on the bench as he unapologetically spread his legs. At first, you let him. You liked the close proximity and you’d slap yourself in the face at the end of the night if you’d do anything to jeopardize that. But after bumping your knee against the foot of the table a few times after he nudged you, you spoke up. Blame the fact that there were already five beers in your system.

“Joe. Move.”

“What? You need to go to the restroom?”

“No, just move your leg, you’re manspreading as if you’re nine ft. You’re not that tall.”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times with barely any sound coming out of it until he settled on a sneaky, all knowing smile.

“Did you really sit with that thought, fussing over it for god knows how long?” He wanted to know. You shook your head, which was only a partial deviation of the truth. Most of the time your brain had been occupied by appreciating his full lips, his luscious looks or his incredibly pretty eyes. And the lashes that man had?! Completely unfair.

“I was not,” you replied, trying to remain serious. “Now, if you don’t move…”

Joe seemed to love the sound of that and rested his head on top of his palm with a cheeky grin.

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll claim what’s mine.”

“Ooh,” he feigned to sound intrigued. “Is your name on it?”

You frowned at him.

“On what, the booth?”

Joe shrugged and gestured around, pointing at various objects.

“The booth, the seat, wherever.”

A fake annoyed sigh escaped your lips, but not before he caught your little smile, making him grin even wider.

“No.”

“Then what do you plan to claim?” If he wasn’t so cute with his amused eyes and goofy smile, you would have been annoyed when he gave you another nudge with his knee.

“My rightful space. Half of the bench,” you demanded, your eyes narrowing playfully. Joe’s jaw slacked as he looked at you as if you had said the weirdest thing.

“Half?! I need at least 60%,” Joe protested.

“For what? I need 50. No compromise.”

“Alright, just claim it then, like you said. I’d like to see you try,” he told you with a smirk that gave away that he was enjoying himself far too much. You gave him a glare that was too playful to be taken seriously and he mockingly patted your leg.

“Don’t be upset, love.”

The use of the pet name surprised not only you but him as well, as did the hand that did not seem to want to be removed from your leg. Hesitantly, he let his thumb glide over the fabric of your pants, his eyes no longer teasing as they instead focused on your leg and the way his hand seemed to look just right in that position. Somehow, somewhere in your brain which was going all over the place due to his hand, alcohol, his face and his hand, you managed to notice that his guard was down and you decided to do the first thing that came to mind to claim your place. He looked up at you in surprise when you swung your leg over his, his hand following it as if it had been glued to you and you settled the weight down. Joe seemed too stunned to speak for a moment but automatically leaned back to give you enough room for your leg, though his hand now lay frozen.

“So that’s how you do it,” he commented softly, a smile so genuine it hurt your fragile heart. You nodded, shifting your leg for comfort and took your glass in hand.

“That’s how I do it,” you confirmed with a nod. You gazed at each other for a brief moment until he averted his eyes to grab his glass again, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re so interesting,” he told you as he gazed up at you, a small smile lighting up his face. You reciprocated his smile and then cocked your eyebrow gently.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The question left your lips so softly it made him lean in to catch the words before he nodded.

“Good. Definitely good.” He finally dared to move his hand again, gently caressing your leg, watching your expression carefully as he did. You quietly took a few sips from your beer before the silence was interrupted by three loud guys, singing what sounded like a birthday song except it was probably in Dutch. They halted in front of your table, telling you both that it was the blonde guy’s birthday, then proceeded to repeat that information in English when they realized you weren’t Dutch, and presented you with a shot of tequila and a slice of lemon. After thanking them, they didn’t wait for you to take the shots and just went onto the next table.

“Well, it would be a waste to leave it,” Joe said, already licking his hand and shaking some salt onto it before holding it out to you. You smirked at his eagerness and copied him, taking one of the shot glasses in hand.

“Cheers!”

You watched as Joe took the slice of lemon into his mouth and only left the peel. Once the burn of the alcohol had subsided, he excused himself for the bathroom and you immediately missed the warmth of his leg beneath yours. When he returned, he didn’t immediately sit back down, but instead invited you along as he wanted to go for a smoke, though not before he ordered you both another drink.

“Do you smoke?” he asked as soon as you stood outside the pub, leaning against the wall closest to the entrance. The light from inside illuminated his face and you wondered if he could ever not look good. Even with a cigarette in hand, a habit you normally quite disliked, you found yourself focussing on his little gestures as he smoked. Taking a drag, holding it, the way his eyes followed the smoke upwards as he exhaled, everything. It was stupidly mesmerizing.

“Y/N?” He glanced at you amusedly as he flicked off some ash and watched you regain your composure.

“I, uhm, no. I don’t.” You had to bite your tongue not to stupidly ask “you?” in an automatic response. You watched as he took another drag, letting it swim around in his lungs before he exhaled up towards the sky.

“Do you mind it?”

“No,” you lied. Or well, in this case, maybe you weren’t lying. You actually really liked what you saw and couldn’t care less that he was paving a black, ashy road inside his lungs. No, that wasn’t true either, you did care for his health.

“Penny for your thoughts?” If you weren’t mistaken, he looked a little concerned. You were certain when he gently took hold of your elbow, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I’m just—”

Joe held up a hand, interrupting your apology.

“If I did something to, I don’t know, make you uncomfortable—”

“No no no, not at all! Please don’t mind me,” you quickly saved him from worrying. “Sometimes I just get lost in thought a little.”

Joe’s expression relaxed a little and you felt his thumb gently graze the side of your elbow.

“Pray tell, what was going on in your mind that got you so distracted?” He asked you curiously, his hand dropping again as he leaned against the wall. You calmly took a sip from your beer as you watched him, expression curious, body language open and inviting.

“You,” you say boldly and you watch his expression go from curious to intrigued. Then, a lazy smile appeared on his face.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He mimicked you from earlier.

“Good. Definitely good,” you returned the favor of not coming up with an original response and his lazy smile turned into a toothy grin before he chuckled. A shiver ran through your body and demanded to be seen.

“Are you cold?”

You weren’t sure. Had it really been the cold that made you shiver or had it just been the raw sound of his chuckle rumbling up his throat? You said yes anyway.

“A little.”

“I’d give you my coat but…” he cocked his head towards the window, as both of you had decided to leave your coats inside. Then, after taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling it to the side, he took a step closer to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“I can do this though.”

You allowed yourself to feel the comfort of his embrace as you leaned into his body, sliding your arm around his waist.

“Better?” He asked looking down at you, his eyes widening just a touch when he realized how close your faces were right now. You nodded shyly, cheeks warming up.

“Much better.”

His hand caressed your shoulder as well as your upper arm and once he was done with his cigarette, he rested his cheek against your head and only lifted it to take an occasional sip from his beer.

“I think the pub’s about to close,” Joe mentioned softly as more people started to drift outside, chatting away way too loud for the quiet night among them after being used to raise their voices inside the pub for some time. You chugged the last bit of your beer and nodded towards the door.

“Shall we grab our coats then?”

For the time of the hour that it was, the tram towards your hotel was packed. Judging by the appearances of most people you assumed they were going clubbing somewhere. It was around 2 AM already, but surely in a place like Amsterdam some clubs stayed open until the early hours, making it essentially still ‘early’ to start your party. You didn’t have a seat, so instead you and Joe stood closely together, his arm only hovering behind you in case the tram made a sudden movement. The people around you were so noisy that you both took the time to give your vocal chords a little rest until your stop.

He stepped out of the tram first only so he could extend a hand to you to help you as well. Once you started walking he weaved his fingers through yours and you both let the return of the silence around you sink in as the noise of the tram ebbed away in the distance.

As you stepped in the elevator, your silence continued and was only broken when Joe pressed the button of the fifth floor and the elevator voice announced that the doors were closing. That and the elevator music, which was exactly as you would imagine. Since you were no longer holding hands as Joe had needed both to push open the heavy entrance of the hotel, you stood on opposite sides of the elevator. Joe leaned against the railing and you noticed he was already looking at you when you turned your gaze in his direction. A soft smile played on his lips and he nodded upwards at the speaker.

“Horrible, isn’t it?” He said, his voice sounding a little raw from the need to clear his throat, which he did right after.

“The worst.” You nodded and smiled while you watched him push himself off the railing and take two steps towards you to close the distance. He looked down at you and took your hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze. Just as he was about to say something, the elevator paused its movement.

“Third floor. Doors opening.”

With a startled look he turned around to see a group of five men, very obviously drunk, enter the elevator.

“Is it going down or up?” One of them asked the others. None of them seemed to know the answer and whilst they were discussing it, the elevator doors closed again. They took up lots of space in the elevator and Joe made sure you both had enough room by barricading the corner where you stood with his arms.

“Up. Why’s it going up? Go down!” Another guy said, pressing all the buttons.

“Idiot, now it’s just gonna go to every floor, this is gonna take ages.” A third one sighed. They barely took notice of you and Joe, who raised a subtle eyebrow at you and smiled reassuringly as you looked a little uncomfortable. When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor one of them looked at you expectantly and you gave him a thin lipped smile as you shook your head. Before it stopped on the fifth, Joe had already grabbed your hand again and guided you along the side of the elevator to the front while being faced with some drunken commentary that neither of you paid much attention to. After quickly exiting the elevator and taking a right turn you halted at the parting, your room being on the left side and his on the right and a sigh escaped his lips when he heard the elevator doors close again.

“That was something,” he mumbled.

“I think they’re gonna go up all the way to the fifteenth floor now, unless they realize they might as well hop onto the other elevator instead,” you remarked and Joe nodded.

“Maybe the guy who pushed all the buttons simply didn’t want the night to end yet,” he said softly, implying that this thought didn’t just come up out of nowhere.

“Who knows,” you responded feebly, suddenly feeling a little shy. Joe seemed to match your shyness and smiled bashfully.

“Well then. I guess, good night? Or should I say good morning?”

“Don’t,” you groaned. “It’s still today, remember?”

“I know,” he agreed with a soft smile, “just like teasing you is all.” He pulled you into a tight hug that seemed to last longer than the one he gave you last night, but maybe your sense of time was just a little twisted. Nevertheless, it felt nice. Which was why it was a shame when he pulled back, his eyes taking in yours and then looking away and down at his hands as he released you from his grip.

“See you tomorrow. Shall I come by your room when I’m awake?” He suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll do the same if I happen to be awake sooner.”

“I’ll text first, to check,” he added with a smirk.

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Okay, yeah. Good night then, y/n.”

“Good night Joe.”

He gave you a last, breathtaking smile before you both turned around and walked to your rooms. You could hear a door being opened and closed and you were sure it was his. Something inside you wanted to go to his room, tell him you also didn’t want the night to end yet, but instead you found yourself holding the card in front of the reader to unlock your door and you stepped inside.

However, before you could turn around to make sure the door was closed, you felt two hands grabbing your waist and you shrieked. Quickly you turned around, your eyes frantically searching for the perpetrator, only to find a sweet, familiar face full of worry.

“Oh god, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was really just thinking that I didn’t want to regret holding back another time so I’m gonna kiss you right now if— if that’s okay,” Joe told you in one breath.

“I— what did you just say?” you stammered as your heart was still racing from being grabbed so suddenly. He had said it so quickly that your brain was still catching up. Joe licked his lips nervously and a pink shade colored his cheeks as he let one hand slip off your waist to run it through his hair.

“I was just overthinking things, a lot, about if I should just go for it and uh—” he grabbed his chin, his thumb and index finger following the scruff of his beard as his thoughts rushed in all at once, making it unable to make sense of them.

Watching him being so nervous, the realization of what he had said just now finally dawned on you. He wanted to—

“Kiss me,” you blurted out, cheeks growing warmer.

“Oh— okay, yeah.” His eyes darted to yours, not knowing which eye to focus on because both looked so pretty and he wanted to take in all of you and not just one thing. He lightly shook his head to come back to his senses and finally found the courage to do what he had wanted to do since the day he left you in front of the bookshop. His hand cupped your cheek ever so gently, a soft but shy smile on his lips as he leaned in closer. You met him halfway and pressed your lips against his, an appreciative hum softly leaving his lips. When he felt you leaning back his hand found the back of your head, keeping you in place as he teased his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for access. Simultaneously as you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, he pulled you closer by your waist. Your hand reached up to smooth your fingers through his curls, something you had been craving to do all weekend.

You had totally forgotten about the fact that you were still very much standing inside your doorway for everyone to see and when someone suddenly shrieked, Joe panicked and rushed you inside. The romantic moment had gone, although you could still taste it blissfully on your lips. A combination of mint and cigarettes and something else that was just him. His hand lingered on your waist as he stared at the door, thinking of all possible repercussions this action might have.

“Do you think they saw?” He asked you, his eyes darting from the door, to you and back. You shrugged and glanced at him empathetically.

“I couldn’t tell if they made that sound because of us, you, or if it might have been something else.”

“Fuck me,” Joe groaned, his hand coming up to his face. You nudged him gently with your hip and smiled softly.

“Not so fast casanova,” you joked. He looked at you, his expression softening upon the realization that you weren’t as freaked out as he was. “And I don’t think you have to worry. Even if they saw us, I doubt they had enough time to get any evidence anyway. It will be fine,” you reassured him.

“They might be waiting for the moment I, or we, for all they know, get out of this room though,” he mumbled. His gaze was directed at the door again, wishing he could see through it to know if the coast was clear.

“Then stay, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Joe quickly turned his head towards you in surprise and then presented you with a cocky grin.

“I thought you said “not so fast”, love,” he teased as his grin grew wider. You gave him a light push against his chest and laughter escaped his mouth, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “I’m joking,” he then added in a more serious tone while he took your hand in his. He looked over at the double bed.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” His thumb brushed over the top of your hand lightly as he carefully watched your expression.

“No. I did mean what I said though,” you warned him gently.

“I know you did,” he responded with a soft smile, leaning in just slightly to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Same goes for me.”

Joe was grateful for your spare toothbrush and stayed out of your way as you changed into a T-shirt and leggings to sleep in. You realized with dread that he was about to see you without any makeup on and while you hadn’t been wearing a lot, it still scared you a little. Joe had taken it upon himself to get under the covers on the side of the empty nightstand and was scrolling through his phone when you joined him after getting ready for bed in the bathroom. His expression made you suspect that he was looking for anything troublesome on social media, which he confirmed as soon as you slipped under the covers.

“Can’t find anything yet, so I guess we might be in luck. Nothing on the museum stuff either.”

“Oh! I’m an idiot. Jeez, hold on.” You lifted the covers to slip out of the bed again and searched in one of your bags.

“What… Why did this suddenly trigger a response like that?” Joe asked, confused as he watched you. When you turned around holding something tiny, he squinted trying to see what you were holding and you smirked.

“Here,” you said, presenting it up close. “For you.”

“For me…? Why?” His mouth still stood agape in surprise when he took the tiny canvas of the “Starry Night” replica in hand and inspected it closely.

“You said it was your favorite, so…” You shrugged, hoping you didn’t just give him a corny gift in comparison to all that he had already given you.

“I love it. I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, that’s so kind of you.” He wrapped you in a slightly awkward hug, with you hovering over the side of the bed a little as you had been standing a little too far away for it to be comfortable.

“You really like it?” You asked softly as he carefully put it on his nightstand and he turned his head to look at you in surprise.

“Of course! Why do you sound so doubtful?” He asked curiously as his gaze followed you back into bed. You got comfortable first, turning off the big light leaving only the ledstrip above the headboard of the bed on and then laid down on your side.

“I don’t know, I just don’t know how to make up for all that you did,” you confessed, feeling a little silly about it. Joe matched your position and carefully lifted a hand towards your face to brush away a stray strand of hair.

“You’re already doing plenty by just being here with me. I want you to know that. And I really appreciate the kind gestures but don’t feel like you have to catch up or something. That’s not why I invited you to this… I don’t know, three-day-date?” A snort escaped his lips and his shoulders shook a little as he laughed. “I just really, really like spending time with you. And kissing you isn’t half bad either,” he grinned as you feigned indignance until you giggled and then suddenly his lips were on yours again and your silly banter was drowned out by a shuffling of sheets and soft sounds escaping the both of you.

How you both were able to show restraint to not let making out turn into something more was a mystery to you both. However once he settled on his back, one arm around you as your head rested on his naked chest, you knew exactly why. No words were needed to express how you felt in that moment, as it just felt right. You weren’t in a rush. When you both became too tired to really hold a conversation, which was probably around the time that even the clubs in Amsterdam were closing, Joe gave you a sweet good night kiss. After that, his hand gently nudged you to roll on your side so he could be the big spoon and he wrapped his arm comfortably around your waist. You turned your head towards him to steal another kiss and with a soft smile on his lips, he kissed your shoulder before burying his face into your neck. It turned into the first night of great sleep you both had had in a long time.

As blissful as the night had ended, all the more dreadful became the morning when it dawned on you that this was your last day together. Joe was no longer spooning you, but instead your leg was hoisted over his waist, hand curled up in his neck. You would have assumed he was still asleep by his slow breathing, but the hand caressing your thigh gave away the opposite. Instead of looking up, you uncurled your hand and brushed your fingers along his neck and played with the ends of his hair.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice sounding a little raspy. “Sleep well?”

“Until I woke up, yes,” you mumbled, the sadness of your realization squeezing your chest tightly. Blissfully unaware, Joe chuckled and his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Isn’t that usually when sleep ends?” He asked jokingly, his hand dropping to your arm. When you didn’t reply right away, he gently squeezed your arm. “Hm?”

“I just don’t want today to end,” you mumbled, sounding smaller and more fragile than you wanted to. Joe sighed and wrapped his arms around you for a tight hug and kissed your forehead.

“Me neither. But we have,” he picked up his watch to check the time and frowned slightly, clearly not happy with the news he was about to bring, “two hours left.”

“Two hours?!” You sat up immediately and Joe’s arms slacked off your body.

“And then some, at the airport. But two hours before we have to leave yeah,” Joe said apologetically, taking your hand in his and tugging on it lightly. You felt a lump growing in your throat and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you with compassion only made it worse.

“Come cuddle?” Joe tugged on your hand again and you relented, resuming your old position. He pulled the covers back up and lifted your chin so he could look at you. Your eyes met his and a moment of silence was shared between the two of you before Joe captured your lips in a gentle kiss. He leaned back again to look at you once more, his hand cupping your cheek and you could see his eyes shift back and forth between your own.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His soft spoken words sounded so sincere that any retort of denial died on your lips. You licked your lips and tried to find a response in your mind but his eyes and the light touch of his thumb caressing your cheekbone distracted you.

“So are you,” you eventually told him softly, causing him to smile and shake his head a little in disbelief.

“Don’t know about that,” he smirked, to which he was met with a stern look on your face and his expression immediately turned into looking caught while doing something bad.

“Don’t do that,” you told him, “you’re very handsome.”

“God, stop it,” he chuckled as he hid his face behind his hand.

“You started it,” you pointed out dryly, tearing his hand away from his face. Joe was slightly red in the face and he groaned as his face got revealed.

“Not so you could say it back!” He protested, more laughter escaping his lips when you started a back and forth fussing around with your hands. At some point he had you flat on your back, hands pressed into the mattress by his own on either side of your head.

His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned in, his lips almost touching yours when—

“Housekeeping!” A loud knock on the door followed by a rattling sound made you both jump up and scramble away from the bed. You urged Joe to hide in the bathroom and opened the door to find a small, blonde haired woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t packed all my stuff yet. I’ll be out as soon as I can,” you promised quickly, not knowing what Joe had booked precisely but assuming you were both supposed to have checked out already. The woman assured you it was fine as long as you were out within half an hour. As soon as the door closed, Joe stuck his head out the door.

“I completely forgot about that, I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, looking for his clothes to put on while you got your suitcase out.

“I should’ve thought of it as well honestly… Maybe you can use your charm on one of the clerks though?”

“My charm? Doubt it.”

“You, Mr. Quinn, are very charming.”

“And you,” he said while pointing at you with his shoe, “should remember that you just lost that battle earlier and will lose again.” You shared some gentle laughter with him until he suddenly got distracted by needing to grab your gift and holding it close so he wouldn’t forget it.

Your clothes were tossed in a somewhat folded stack into your suitcase apart from what you were planning to wear, and you were relieved that you had plenty of room left in your suitcase for once because you didn’t want to waste time properly packing it all up.

“Alright, I’m gonna head to my room and pack real quick. Meet you in the lobby?” He offered, stepping closer to steal a quick kiss from your lips that immediately threatened to turn into a longer one. When his hands started to roam over your back you reluctantly stopped him, as twenty minutes since the lady left had already passed and you still had to get dressed.

“See you at the lobby,” you nodded. As soon as the door clicked shut you quickly got ready, putting on simple blue jeans with sneakers and a light gray sweater after you freshened up in the bathroom and lastly added the tiniest bit of makeup. With two minutes on the clock you met up with Joe at the lobby and he looked pleasantly impressed with what you had managed to do in such a short time. He looked more disheveled than you did and you assumed that’s why he was wearing a black beanie on top of his head. His black shirt was tucked into his jeans and he was wearing his boots again.

“All good,” he told you, nodding at the clerks behind the desk. “Turns out a photo with Eddie Munson can be used as leverage sometimes,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

“See? I told you,” you told him proudly and he rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, alright. So… should we drop our stuff here and grab a bite, chill at The Dam for a bit until it’s time?”

“Sounds lovely.”

Wanting as much ‘alone’ time as you could have, you went for a sandwich and a drink from a food stall, finishing up with another stroopwafel on The Dam as a treat. You sat down on a bench together where you had the perfect view of someone painting caricatures of tourists who sat down with them.

“Next time we’re gonna get one of those. As soon as we see one,” Joe told you as he gave a nod towards the painter.

“Ooh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You teased, to which he gave you an unimpressed look.

“There’d better be. Doesn’t have to be Amsterdam though. Lots of caricature painters all around the world.” He slung his arm loosely around your waist, stroking your side.

“You seem to have big plans,” you said with a smile.

“Well, yeah. I wanna make this work.” Joe turned his head to look at you and you could tell he was serious.

“Do you think it will work, though? With me being from Y/B/P and you basically being everywhere and nowhere all the time?” It wasn’t something that you wanted to ask. The last thing you desired was putting doubts into his mind. But you had to know for your own sanity how he viewed that part of your lives and possibly, futures together.

“It will have to, won’t it?” Joe shrugged. “In case it’s not obvious yet, I really like you. And it fills me with dread that I can’t just hop onto the tube to see you but that’s just how it is. I fully intend to see you in person as often as I can, though. I… We’ll make it work,” he promised, not only to you but to himself as well. You rested your head onto his shoulder and he followed your gesture by resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“We will,” you softly agreed. Silence. For some time, neither of you spoke, until you did.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Y/N. So much.”

All of your willpower was required not to cry at that moment. Instead, you hugged him tight and he lifted your chin to plant a soft kiss onto your lips.

“Are you not worried anyone will see?”

“Did some thinking last night,” Joe shrugged. “Figured to hell with it.”

You chuckled and put your hand on his cheek to make him look at you.

“I’d like another kiss then,” you said sweetly. Joe smiled and leaned in so close your lips were almost touching but without kissing you.

“You’d like one, hm? But are you getting one?”

“Don’t test me Joseph.”

Joe smirked and kissed you sweetly.

“I kinda like it when you call me Joseph. Though I’m not sure if it’s because of you saying it, or if it was the fact that you looked annoyed with me.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out at some point,” you assured him with a grin.

“You’re not even gonna repeat it for me while looking happy with me?” He pouted for extra dramatics and when you shook your head he heaved a deep sigh.

“Well then—” The alarm on his phone signaling that it was time to get your stuff interrupted him, and the next sigh that left him was a real one.

“Time to go love.”

With the little time you had left at the airport, you decided to stroll around a bit until you were expected at the gate. Joe had gone for a quick bathroom break and came back with what seemed to be a notebook and a pen.

“Need something to do on the plane?” You asked curiously. When he shook his head and sat down next to you, handing you the notebook and pen, you frowned.

“We’re gonna make a list,” he started, “of things we’re gonna do when we meet again next time. First up: caricature. I assume you have better handwriting than I do.”

You smiled, thinking back on the note he had written and decided that yes, you probably did indeed. After writing it down, you looked up at him.

“Alright. What’s next?”

“Go to a zoo? Or an aquarium,” he suggested. “Cook together.”

You wrote it all down with a smile on your lips.

“You’re full of ideas,” you mentioned. “I think you should take it for when something comes to mind.” Joe immediately shook his head and nodded down at the book.

“We need your handwriting, otherwise we’re gonna wonder what the fuck we’re supposed to be doing. I’ll text you if I think of something.”

A few more things were added to the list and then Joe decided it was time to put it in your bag so he could hold you for a little while. At one point you softly giggled to yourself, gaining Joe’s curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“I was just considering whether your freaking out last night was just a subtle ploy to get into my bed,” you said jokingly. He put his hands on your shoulders to make you lean back so he could look at you, mouth agape in shock.

“How dare you? I’m much smoother than using a silly excuse like that!”

“Are you now?”

“I’ll prove it to you next time.”

“Doesn’t really count, does it? It already happened.”

“Maybe. And maybe there’s something else that hasn’t happened yet that we need a bed for. Or well, not necessarily but, you know, for comfort—”

“Joe. You can just tell me you want a massage.”

He laughed a little louder than even he expected to do and gave your chest a light push with his fingers.

“How’d you guess? My back’s been sore from carrying these conversations…”

“Now you’re treading on a dangerous path.”

Your banter got interrupted by an announcement that you had to go to the gate and his shoulders visibly slumped. Every step you took towards your gate felt heavy and you used up as much time as you could to get there, holding Joe’s hand the whole time. He sensed that you were getting emotional and did his best to comfort you with the caress of his thumb until you finally halted in front of the gate.

“Alright. We’re not gonna be sad, because I need to see your pretty smile before I go, okay? And we will call as soon as we’re both able to. It’s only temporary,” he promised as he cupped your face with his hands to kiss you softly. It was hard not to demand more of this little moment, but you had no choice.

“It’s only temporary,” you repeated with a nod, biting down on your lip when you felt it threatening to wobble. Joe nodded and wrapped you in a tight hug, his arm around your waist and his hand on the back of your head.

“I’ll see you soon.” Another promise fell from his lips as he rubbed your back.

You stole one last kiss from his lips, touching his face with both hands before running your hand through his hair and squeezing him tight, and then it was time to let go. You turned around before you would change your mind and felt him reach for your arm for a quick last squeeze. You knew you’d burst into tears if you looked back, so you didn’t, but your resolve to give your tear ducts a break crumbled as soon as you sat down in your seat at the window. Needing him more than ever, you opened your phone to text him only to find that he had already texted you. There was a photo attached of himself sitting at his own gate with a playful, sad expression on his face. You could tell by his eyes that he was only adding the playfulness because he was actually really sad.

Joe: Miss you already x

You: I’d send a selfie back but you don’t want to see this right now

Joe: Aw, that bad?

You: Literally rivers. They had to mop the floor three times already

Joe: Wow. Next time you do that, we should fill up a pool or something.

You: Sounds like a lot of work. How often do you intend to make me cry?

Joe: Lots. But only because I’m super funny

You: We’ll see about that

Joe: Yeah. Soon. Very soon x

You: I have to turn off my phone now

Joe: Don’t flirt with strangers

You: Can I flirt with people I know?

Joe: No

You: You can’t either

Joe: Wouldn’t dream of it. Although…

You: ?

Joe: With Jamie I can’t really help it. I mean… have you seen Jamie?

You: Fine, he gets a pass. Really gotta go now :(

Joe: Ok. Talk to you soon love x

You: Have a safe flight x

Joe: You too x

Joe: Another thing for the book. We didn’t take any photos together, it’s a crime. Joe: BTW. What is your opinion on shitty weather?

FIN

Author's note: This fic got out of haaaand. Literally twice the size than part 2 simply because no ending felt right. I know this may feel a little sad, but I hope you all enjoyed your fun times together. I couldn’t just randomly end it and well, airplane goodbyes suck. Hopefully the texting at the end lightened the mood a bit. Thank you so much for the love on part 1, I hope I did part 2 justice and that you’re not throwing tomatoes through the screen right now :) Lots of love x

Dirty Martini taglist:

@thefemininemystiquee - @peaches-and-plums-motherfucker - @cup-half-full-of-anxiety - @emmysuebull22 - add yourself

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #fanfiction #rpf #dirtymartini writes

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welcome-to-ratterrock · 2 months

Note

How would the Regal Siblings act like when they're drunk? (if ever they do drink that is-)

All of them have a high tolerance for booze, actually! It takes a lot to get them truly and utterly pissed, they’ve got Irish and Italian fortitude in that regard. However, they do drink regularly and once they’re well and truly soused…

Saoirse has the lowest tolerance out of the four and is rambunctious to begin with, so she’s even more so when she’s drunk. I can easily see her leading a huge drinking song in a pub and having passionate if barely coherent debates with her peers and mates. It’s when she starts climbing things and chanting “Fuck the police!” at coppers that her friends finally wrangle her away and she wakes up with a horrific hangover. She’ll enjoy a casual pint with her friends but I think she hates being hungover so much (especially not fun when you’re trying to lead a protest) that she only really cuts loose when she knows she can sleep in the next day. She’s definitely the high energy drunk who gets super passionate and combative but also really wants to drape herself over you and snuggle…

Like Saoirse, Lorcan is a high energy drunk, but not at all combative (unless circumstances demand otherwise). Warm and jovial is his norm, and he’s the life of the party already, so he becomes even more gregarious and happy - challenging people to arm wrestling and darts and dares but all for the sake of sheer fun, dancing up a storm, having a randy bit of bliss off in some corner. He loves having a good time and nothing is gonna stop him from doing just that. At the same time, he can definitely hold his own in a barroom brawl. Overall though, he’s a Big Kid Big Fun kinda drunk.

But if someone stepped out of line, threw a nasty punch, did something really fucking atrocious to someone he cares for? Then he shifts into You’re Gonna Be Fucking Sorry For That mode. And that mode ain’t pretty.

Now, as for Sorcha…

Sorcha keeps very cool and composed all the time, very rarely letting her glamorous mask drop and show her true emotions, so if she was truly drunk…I think she’d be the one who swings from one mood to another. Anger, sadness, joy, amusement, all of it would come out in a very expressive, emotional and yet still remarkably eloquent manner. But that kind of drunkenness from her? Rare to the point of never happening.

And finally…

Padraic, the eldest and the one with the highest tolerance for alcohol, be it sweet nectar or swill, is very much like Sorcha in being very composed in his manner, his elegance and debonair demeanor very much both a shield and a sword he uses. And it takes a GREAT deal to make him well and truly drunk, it’s insane. But when he is?

He becomes brutally honest, both to himself and to others. The eloquence and theatrical turn of phrase leaves and his true sentiment is delivered raw and rough. He won’t hold back what he’s truly thinking, and he doesn’t care if it makes one cry. In fact, he rather wants to see if he can break you down even more…

#ratterrock replies #padraic regal #lorcan regal #sorcha regal #saoirse regal #the regal siblings #ratterrock #original characters

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

Note

Have you already done an ask about which of your ocs can dance? Can you link please if you have? 🙇‍♀️ 🙏 If not which of your boys can dance and what types of dances do they know. If i remember Patches knows some formal ones.

Who can dance?

Did I say that Patches can dance? I genuinely don't recall, but that doesn't make sense. So, if I did, let me apologize- Because this dude will step on your toes every two seconds. He knows nothing, he can barely hold you without trembling like a leaf. His dullahan self? Oh, that one does know how to dance! Definitely the type to tango very playfully.

Let's face it, the only types of dances Santi and Vesper know is either strip teasing moves, other erotic styles or anything involving a pole. To their defense, they're very good at it in spite of their large builds.

Fasma can totally bust a jive. Will he though? Get him really truly hammered and he might.

Fank-e can and will do the robot. Some people would think he'd get offended by the suggestion of such, but he actually adores it. He's all about twists and turns organics can't make.

Vinnel constantly mock-dances during performances, and he's able to aptly mimic a variety of styles- From samba to Irish stepdancing even a little cha-cha-cha.

Gallon loves flamenco. But actually dancing it? Yeah, not that good and he knows it...

#Patches oc #Santi oc #Vesper oc #Vinnel oc #Fasma oc #Fank-e oc #tiredidot

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munsonfamilyband · 1 year

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I know I promised this last week but my life is Insanity currently. So, here is part 1 of my Captain America AU. If you want to be in the taglist, let me know! I do have more of this written but it’s mostly snippets rather than coherent story so it may take a bit to get the next part - I also want to update my Different Meeting AU before I post part 2 of this.

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Steve had met Eddie when he was just 7 years old. It was lunchtime during school and Steve had seen Charlie O’Connor picking on Betty Simmons. Now, despite his numerous health issues, Steve refused to let someone else get hurt if he could stop it. So, he stood up and marched himself over to Charlie and shoved him as hard as he could. It wasn’t very hard but it made him stumble, which was just enough of a distraction for Betty to run off. Charlie had been furious and, predictably, turned his anger onto Steve. When Eddie showed up Steve had been knocked onto his ass again, nose already bleeding. All Steve could see from his position was a taller boy with curly hair stepping in between him and Charlie and telling him to go pick on someone his own size. Eddie had turned to Steve and held out a hand to help him up.

Steve pointedly refused it and pushed himself to his feet, grumbling that he had him on the ropes. Eddie had paused, looked over Steve for a second, and then smiled before saying that he knew that but he didn’t want Charlie to embarrass himself.

Eddie never left his side after that day, even though it took Steve about a week to finally warm up to him. They started spending all of their spare time together - Steve meeting Eddie’s parents and his sisters, and Eddie meeting Steve’s ma. Steve started teaching Eddie some Gaelic and all about the Irish traditions that he and his ma practiced. Eddie taught Steve about his ma’s Romani heritage and his dad, Wayne, taught Steve about their religion. That first year after they became friends was the first time Eddie celebrated Christmas and the first time Steve celebrated Hanukah.

As they grew up together people stopped thinking of them as Eddie and Steve, rather they were EddieandSteve. Everyone in their neighborhoods knew that where one was, the other was close behind. Steve’s ma certainly appreciated it because Eddie kept Steve from picking as many fights, and the ones he couldn’t stop, Eddie helped finish. They were a team, tied at the hip and puberty didn’t change that.

Steve realized that he was in love with Eddie when he was 13. Because Eddie was a year older than him they weren’t at the same school that year, with Eddie starting high school. Steve had left his school and walked down the block to meet Eddie so they could walk home together and when he arrived he saw Eddie standing under a tree with a girl. Steve didn’t know who the girl was, he didn’t really care, what he did care about was the fact that her and Eddie were kissing. Steve felt his whole chest tighten, which is something he is used to feeling but this time was different. This time the tightness didn’t feel like an asthma attack, it felt like someone gripping his heart in this fist and squeezing as tight as they could. Steve ran before Eddie saw him, his chest still tight and his eyes growing wet for reasons he couldn’t understand. That night, when he was lying in bed, he realized what he was feeling. He was angry, not at Eddie, but at the girl because he wanted to be in her place. When Eddie knocked on his window from the fire escape that night, Steve pretended that he was already asleep. He managed to keep up the act for a few days before Eddie got the jump on him and was standing outside of school when Steve got out. Eddie followed him home, refusing to give up no matter how long Steve pretended not to hear him. When they got back to Steve’s apartment, he blew up - their first actual fight. Even years later Steve couldn’t tell you how it had gone from them screaming to Eddie holding his face in his hands and kissing him. It was one of the best moments of Steve’s life.

After his ma died when Steve was 17, he and Eddie got a place together in the Queer neighborhood. Brooklyn was a haven then, full of people like them who never asked questions. Eddie got a job at the docks and Steve started doing art for people around them. His odd jobs are what led them to discovering their favorite place - Sammy’s was a bar that had a secret basement for people like them. He and Eddie would go to Sammy’s every Friday night, usually with Steve dressed up in one of his ma’s old dresses and heels to avoid suspicion, and they would spend the night together dancing and drinking like any regular couple out there. Sammy’s was where Eddie slipped a ring on Steve’s finger on his 18th birthday. Sammy’s was where they went the day Eddie’s draft notice came in the mail. Steve and Eddie both hated that draft notice. Eddie hated it because he didn’t want to go fight in the war, no matter how it was affecting his people. Steve hated it because he wanted to go fight but the army wouldn’t accept him with all of his health problems. It led to a few fights between them before they settled their differences about it and just avoided discussing Eddie’s impending departure for war.

The months after Eddie left for basic went by in a blur for Steve. He kept busy to avoid thinking about how lonely he felt. He avoided it so well that he forgot when Eddie was coming home from basic, up until Eddie showed up and sent the other guy running. Eddie was complaining about Steve liking to get beat up but Steve was just glad he was home. Finding out that he was only home for a day though? That ruined the joy of their reunion a little.

Eddie dragged him to the Stark expo, telling him that they were going to see the future but all they really saw was a failed attempt at a flying car. The night only got worse when Eddie saw two girls all alone and invited them to join them. Steve didn’t want to ruin the mood, Eddie was clearly enjoying being back in the city, but all he wanted to do was go home and be alone with Eddie for the last time for who knows how long. He slipped away from the group and wandered around before he found a recruitment hall set up and he walked in. It wasn’t the first time he had lied to a recruitment officer, he just had to keep trying. Normally he would be brought back to the exam room and then a doctor would come tell him that he’s not fit for the army and he would be sent home with another rejection. This time was different though, a man walked in and he introduced himself as Dr. Abraham Erskine before telling Steve that he knew he had lied on his forms. Even more surprising though was that he approved Steve for basic training. He had asked Steve why he wanted to fight, and then he had smiled when Steve said he didn’t like bullies. Steve left the recruitment office with a notice to attend basic training folded up in his pocket and a grin on his face.

Basic was terrible for the most part. The other guys were rude and everything smelled. The training sessions were grueling and Steve barely stayed on his feet most days. The one nice thing was the only woman there - Agent Chrissy Cunningham had come all the way from England to work with Dr. Erskine on… something, no one actually knew why she was there. Steve adored her though, she was smart and terrifying, none of the guys tried anything with her after the first day. One of the men had asked her to get them their lunches and she walked right up to him and punched him square in the jaw. Steve had never seen anything quite like it.

He wrote to Eddie as much as he could, though some letters he just folded up and tucked in his bible. He knew that the army searched every piece of mail going in or out so he couldn’t say anything too explicit or romantic without hurting both of them.

A few weeks into basic they were given a new task during their morning run - get the flag down off the flag pole, the first one to get it was able to ride in the jeep with Agent Cunningham the rest of the way. All of the men scrambled over each other to try and climb the pole, all sliding down it after a few feet. Once they had all tried and deemed it impossible, they started running again but Steve stayed behind. He walked up to the flag pole and studied the base for a moment before finding the right pin and pulling, sending the flag pole toppling over to the ground. Everyone froze when it clapped against the dirt but Steve just walked over, unclipped the flag and handed it to the Colonel before climbing into the jeep. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw Agent Cunningham grin at him but it was gone before he could turn to her.

After that day Erskine started showing up for training sessions almost daily. It was clear that he was studying something but no one would explain anything. He finally learned what was going on after a particular training drill.

They were doing exercises in the center of camp when he heard someone yell “GRENADE!” Quickly looking around, Steve spotted it only 5 feet away. Everyone was running but there were still people too close, so instead of trying to run away, he ran toward the grenade and jumped on top of it, wrapping his body around it as tight as he could. If he was about to die, at least he might absorb some of the blast. But then - nothing happened. He slowly unclenched from his ball and looked around, realizing that it had been a dud. The Colonel was looking at him like he was crazy, Chrissy had something like surprise on her face, and Erskine look thrilled. He was pulled aside that night by Erskine who told him about Project Rebirth and the Redskull and his plans to make a super soldier.

Steve didn’t wait before saying yes.

The night before he was set to get the serum, he sat down at a desk and wrote a long letter to Eddie. He hadn’t told Eddie about being in basic, making up stories from home so that he wouldn’t worry. Steve knew that there was a possibility he could die tomorrow, and he didn’t want to leave Eddie without telling him the truth somehow. In the morning he handed the letter to Chrissy and asked her to get it to Sergeant James Edward Munson in the 107th if he didn’t make it.

Getting the serum was one of the most painful experiences of his life. He could feel his body growing and changing, his skin stretching and his bones elongating. When the doors to the chamber opened with a hiss he was laying limp against the back of it, breathing deeply for the first time in his life. It felt like he was drunk, his whole body tingling with the lack of pain he felt. Before he could even fully settle himself though there were gunshots and screaming. Erskine was dead and Steve was chasing a Nazi through Brooklyn.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #captain america au #I’ve had this sitting for a week #i have so many snippets of this written spanning from the first CA to WS

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forevercillianmurphy · 1 year

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the sparkling capone x tommy shelby series.

part 1/ ?

beatrice 'bea' or 'bee' angelina capone, was born on november 30th, 1900 to gabriel and teresina copone, only one year after her older brother al capone was born. she grew up in new york majority of her life before al took his kid sister (and Irish twin) and himself to the second city, chicago where he begun his journey of dealings and life of crime.

my own storyline/timeline for actual capone history and peaky blinders. takes place between 1923 and 1924.

age gap series.

warnings: swearing.

word count: 4.2K

italicized is Italian.

a fact-paced story that takes place over a year, with time jumps.

faceclaims: young lily james as beatrice, dylan obrien as gio, zoey deutch as marissa and jacob eldori as marco.

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december, 1923.

beatrice looked at the port in this shit hole of place, birmingham her brother had asked her to go visit. apparently, he wanted to work with some folks over here and because he couldn't leave chicago at that very moment, he sent her. she was the second in command, and had more brains than he did; though he would never admit. joined by her cousin, gio and longtime friend of her and her brother, marco. she sighed looking down at the ground, heel propped and silently cursing her brother for this job. she'd somehow be undermining the current operations here in birmingham that were run by a group called, the peaky blinders. supposedly she'd get the guys they were working with to work with her brother instead, somehow someway he said. whatever it takes, and that even meant killing a person if it meant that he'd get the connections.

it was just a week ago when he sat beatrice down in his chicago office, letting her know the assignment her had for her. she quickly turned it down, but he held up one finger to let him finish. she sighed, rolling down further in the plush chair and continued to listen to what he had to say. she agreed, reluctantly. "who will be accompanying me?" she questioned, knowing he'd never want danger to come to her. how ironic that statement is. gio agreed the moment al had come to him, and then marco his longtime friend and confidant agreed quickly as well. marco had always looked out for the girl, maybe a little too much sometimes. they had shared some nights together when al was away tending to business, but it never led to anything else. she would not allow it, and she knew he'd be killed by the hands of her brother if he'd found out. either frank or al, it did not matter. the three of them boarded a boat in new york and sailed 9 days before arriving to london, and then drove to this dump beatrice called it. "remind me to kill al when i get back." she huffed, as the three walked back towards their rented car. marco chuckled while gio agreed, he couldn't believe al had tricked him this badly. the three drove into town just a bit, looking for their hotel. "lets stop there." she said pointing at a bar or pub. she was not sure what they called it here. gio nodded, pulling up across the street to a place called, 'the garrison.' marco got out first, placing a hand out for beatrice who took it. she stood up, and began to look around. brick lined streets, dirty walls of homes flooded her vision. she looked towards her right to see a man watching the three while smoking a cigarette. gio eyed the man as he got out, and marco led the girl over. she took in the smell of this city and could not wait to be back in chicago.

hopefully, sooner rather than later.

marco walked in first, looking around before signaling to beatrice that she could walk in. as if she was royalty or had notoriety. she swallowed hard before stepping into the place with confidence and swagger, as if she already owned the place. marco led her to table to the side, while gio walked behind them. as soon as she sat she for a moment before letting them know what she wanted, "just the usual." she said not thinking anything of it. however, the usual wasn't a drink here. she giggled, and asked for vodka instead. she watched as gio went to go fetch the three's drinks, and marco sat down still checking everybody out; nonchalantley. "marco...you can relax for a minute." she said touching his arm softly. "not when you have a group of people staring at you." he said and she shyly looked towards the bar and saw a group of people staring.

those must be them, she thought.

gio was walking towards the two when she looked away. she took the vodka and sipped it sparingly. gio lit a cigar, and she pushed his shoulder to give her a puff. he rolled his eyes as she took off her coat, and took it from him. thomas shelby had never seen anything more attractive, in his 33 years on this earth. the utmost power she held over those 2 was incredible. she took one last puff before giving it back to gio, and she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "ill be back, I'm going to make a phone call." marco said and she nodded. she knew he was going to make a phone call to london where the capones had a trusted business partner, who then would send word that the three had made it. beatrice clicked her tongue, taking another sip of her drink. her face scrunched with disgust, "they really need some better vodka here." she said and gio laughed heartedly. a blonde woman walked by asking if they wanted more and beatrice thought for a minute before gio began to hit on the woman. beatrice hit the back of his head, cleanly and sharply. causing arthur and michael to snicker. she took the cigar back and apologized to the barmaid, "i do apologize for my cousin. he clearly doesn't get any attention from the ladies." she said and the barmaid softly smiled at the girl. "but may i have something better than whatever this is." she said shoving the cup to the woman.

the woman took back what she had just thought, and sighed. another entitled girl she thought, but grace smiled and turned back to get the drinks. gio mumbled, and beatrice hit him once again in the head. "ow!" he whimpered, looking back at her. "don't make me shove you out of that chair giovanni!" she warned and he sighed turning around. she had had all the capone boys near and far wrapped around her finger for the last 2 decades. marco walked back into view, and Beatrice watched from the moment he did so. he walked across the bar, and he caught her eye. the two softly smiled at one another, blushing like fools. she breathed in the cigar once more before handing it back to gio. the barmaid came back with the drinks, and she stood there making sure they were fine. or rather, the snooty tastebuds the girl possessed. irish whiskey, she tasted. her blood boiled. marco and gio saw the look on her face, and chuckled. "irish. whiskey." the capone darkly seethed, before standing up. she took ahold of her jacket, threw it on and began her saunter out. the peaky blinders behind the bar were silently outraged at how disrespectful the three were being. well the one in particular.. the young capone. though, thomas found it somewhat amusing

"we'll be outside." gio said to marco who nodded, and she was outside taking in the cold air that hit her quickly. "irish fucking whiskey." she chastised causing gio to just laugh. "lets just get back, and get a long night rest." she said and he nodded, helping her into the bentley. marco walked out, and jogged over to the car after paying the bill. "all good?" she questioned as he sat next to her. he nodded, and gio started the ride to the other end of the city. back at the garrison, they shut it down and had a family meeting. they had no idea who these three were but from the looks of it (and sound) they were american, entitled and, had money. loads of it. marco threw down a 100 dollar bill and walked out. they were all curious on where they got that money from. - - "when she had the whiskey...it was like something snapped in her. like she was appalled and disgusted by it being Irish." grace said to the group who just nodded. "let me call my contact in london and see if he knows anything." tommy said thinking. "i don't know if that's a good thing or not since lover boy here has been transfixed since she took the cigar from the dude." john joked causing michael to his cousin. the two pushed each other a few times, "oi! we are not doing anything stupid lads. hear me?" tommy said with the utmost authority. everybody nodded and they dispanded for the evening.

ꕥ

bea woke up the next morning, groggy and itching to get out of the uncomfortable bed. she sighed, throwing on her silk robe and walked out into the tea room she stopped when she saw marco already sitting there with a newspaper and coffee. "coffee?" she questioned and he nodded, smirking as he knew her love and adoration for the dark drink. "i thought they only had tea here." she said remembering how worried she was of not getting caffeine overseas. "do you think your brother would send you some place without coffee? god bless that place if he did." he teased and she rolled her eyes, pulling up her feet to sit pretzel-styled. she sipped her coffee in peace, as she felt marco staring. "listen bud, you cant keep looking at me and not expect me to hit you." she teased, opening one eye and catching his. "does...does gio suspect anything?" macro asked after a minute had passed. she shrugged, "if he did, as ironic as it is he is too much of a gentleman to say a word. especially to al or frank." she said and he nodded. "he just wants me to be happy, that's all. i mean we've always seen each other as siblings so i trust him in that regards to not fuck up my life." she breathed. marco leaned across and took hold of one of her hands and brought it in his, and she smiled down at it. during her 23 years on this earth, al and frank had had a way with whom she liked. through small acts of behavior (not always violence), words that haunted the men she went out on dates with, and the promise that they'd ruin their lives if they hurt bea. she wanted this thing to be strong with marco before she went and told her brothers because she knew if she did not do it at the right moment; their relationship would be history and she'd be back in her ivory tower. never able to leave.

they unclasped their hands as they heard gio's door open, and bea eyed her cousin as he poured a cup of coffee for himself. "yknow if you all want privacy just tell me, i will sleep outside." he said and she nearly spit her coffee out. "excuse me?" she said eyeing her cousin, wide-eyed now. "if you want some time together, let me know so i don't have to blow my brains out." he said non chalantly. marco just laughed and bea rolled her eyes; cringing. "come on, i'm not an idiot." he paused as bea laughed loudly. "ok maybe i am just a bit but I've been with you two for what, 2 weeks now? i know y'all have a thing, just don't hurt her or i swear to god." he said turning to macro seriously. bea tried to hide her blushing and face behind her hands before macro pulled them away and kissed her proudly. "oh god." she said pushing him away, teasingly. "leave me alone!" she said hopping up and jogging away from marco. she left the two there and decided she might as well dress before going to the seamstress she'd planned to get information from. she put on her light purple dress, with her iconic black wool coat tied together with a gold bag. "boys, are you ready yet?" she asked as she walked into the tea room. the two nodded walking out, with marco smiling widely as he looked at her. "no no, we have to go." she said walking out of the large hotel suite with gio.

ꕥ

bea stood in the middle of the room with the seamstress, polly she had been told was her name. "so where does one yank like you, come from?" polly asked and bea smiled, "a far, far place from here." bea said not wanting to reveal too much. "you have a accent i cant quite decipher." polly said wanting to know more. bea knew what she was getting at, "i am originally from new york so you could say i picked up the accent there." she said acting as if she was dumb. cheeky girl, polly thought. "are you the only child?" polly asked looking up at bea. she sensed a change in the young blonde. "sometimes i feel as though i am, and other times i wish i were." bea said somewhat sadly before perking up again. she loved her brothers, but what they were doing was not for the faint of heart. her family had been torn apart when al took her and frank to chicago, and never allowed her to look back. he wanted to give her everything their parents could never give. he wanted to keep her safe from the hands of those that just wanted to take advantage of her and get even with her brothers. it had its obvious drawbacks, isolation, anxiety, and brothers who were gone more often than not. "so how did a flower like you end up here?" she questioned bea. bea cleared her throat, "a new beginning, a place to make a name for myself." and my family she did not say. after this 'operation' she'd have a bigger role back in chicago and that meant she could possibly start her new life and role in los angeles, like she'd always yearned for. bea eyed herself in the mirror, throwing the infamous capone glare through the mirror at herself.

awhile later, she was walking out of pollys shop. she thanked polly and told her that one of her two men would be around to get her outfits the following week. "have a wonderful afternoon." bea said respectfully before turning around to marco and gio. she heard some laughing coming from her right, and saw two guys she had seen last night. the one's that had laughed after she hit gio in the back of the head. "lets get going." marco said taking her hand and helping her in the car. michael and arthur eyed the three as they got in and drove off. they quickly walked into pol's to get information. "she didn't say much, i know there's more there." she said taking a long breathe of the cigarette. "you tellin tommy?" arthur asked and polly looked at him like he was dumb. "shes a peculiar yank sounds Italian- immigrated Italian." polly said and the two boys nodded. "and we all know where the italians went." she said referencing ellis island in new york. "well if she's Italian we ought to get rid of her right?"arthur said and polly shrugged. "she may not be a threat but tommy will make that decision." polly said walking towards the back.

ꕥ

marco walked in with bea as gio pushed them out the door, saying they needed a proper date. so the two walked into an upscale restaurant, and as soon as they did people look towards them speaking in hushed tones. the host walked them to their table which was conveniently located to the right of the shelbys table. with michael and tommy having a clear view of them. the waiter walked up with water and asked them for drinks, "may we have a bottle of your finest champagne?" marco asked. "any special occasion?" the waiter asked and the two looked at one another unsure of what to say, "first date." marco sheepishly said causing bea to blush. "congratulations, i will be right back!" the waiter said and bea tapped her hand against his, and he just laughed in response. she shrugged off her coat and the waiter came back in time to take it from her. "thankyou." she said and she took the champagne fluke in exchange, hitting hers with his. "here's to freedom!" he said softly, "here's to taking chances." she smiled and they sipped their bubbly drink. "what did the guy say in london?" she questioned and marco set his fluke down. "just said that he'd relay the message as soon as he could. apparently, your brother left the city." he said and her eyes widened. "seriously?" she questioned and he nodded. "didn't he i don't know just get it?" she whispered, referencing the position he just made on a situation on the northside of chicago. the irish land. she sighed, rolling her eyes. "he's gonna get himself killed, marco. fucking Irish are going to kill him." she said worrying. the tensions between the southside and northside at the moment were tense. everyday there was a threat that the Irish gang was going to storm their humble abode and shoot him in the night. al even feared it at times, though would then drown himself with alcohol and cigars. marco took hold of her hand and rubbed her thumb, "if anybody can escape death its your brother." he said knowingly, but it still didn't make her feel better. she turned to look to the right of her and saw the group from last night. as well as the woman from that afternoon.

she looked back towards marco and pulled her hand away from his, feeling nervous. "marco- I'm about to start speaking in Italian." she said and he was confused. "there's people listening to us." she said, and he knew who it was. "that woman i was with today is at their table." bea added and marco nodded. "is it true, he's sending more men this way from london?" she questioned marco and marco nodded. her brothers were sending trucks of men to help out this operation and keep her safe. she sat back in her seat, trying to figure out what to say next. she had a lot on her mind, like they had been since al pushed her into this operation. "he's going to be the death of me, marco. the death of me." she said in english, sighing as she did so. the two spent the rest of the evening talking about anything but al and the family business. marco also told her that he'd be visiting poland in the upcoming weeks after new years to talk to some vodka people out there. she did not like hearing that but she knew he had no choice, what al says; goes.

later on in the evening, as the two were just finishing their meals the waiter came over with two glasses of pure irish whiskey. their eyebrows knit in confusion until he pointed over towards the group of shelbys. tommy raised his glass of whiskey ever so slightly, staring at the young capone. she gave him her fake and famous beatrice capone smile. the one that dazzled everyone she came in contact with. tommy's heart raced. she chugged it down in one go, setting it back down and then looking towards the shelbys once more. she smiled, before standing back up and taking her coat from the waiter. "thankyou." she said before marco followed her out with a hand on her back.

"fucking italian scum." tommy thought, downing the rest of his whiskey.

ꕥ

it was two days later when anybody saw the young capone on the streets, after the trucks of men came through she would be able to start the operation. she had eyes and ears in factories, distillaries and pretty much all business across the city. beatrice and gio were walking down the street, minding their business as they were not too far from the cafe they had heard served coffee. just her luck, her hat flew off behind her as a huge gush of cold air hit the two midwesterners. she cursed loudly before turning around to come eye to eye with a blue eyed man. her blue eyes pierced into his soul, like he was made of glass. gio didn't like them staring at one another, so he snatched her hat from the hands of a peaky blinder. bea raised her hand and gio flinched. she snatched her hat back, and gio sighed walking a few feet away. she watched him until he was at a certain length and she turned back to the nicely dressed blue eyed man. "thankyou, for getting my hat. i apologize about my cousin. he's a menace to society." she said tucking some hair behind her ear. he waved him off, "the names michael gray." he said holding out his hand. she eyed him curiously before shaking his, "bee monroe." she said giving him a childhood nickname and her alias. "bee." he said almost mesmerized. she took her hand away and slipped her hat back on, "stay warm out here. you'll catch a cold." she said a matter of factly before smiling and walking towards her cousin. tommy stood there watching them walk into the cafe before heading off to pol's house.

"i got her name!" michael said walking into the house, not realizing tommy was there with arthur. tommy quirked an eyebrow, "her name is bee." michael said and arthur sighed. "first name, last name michael. we've been over this how many times?" arthur said as john laughed from the kitchen. tommy sat their drinking his earl grey tea. "no no arthur, bee is good. beatrice is her name." he said. "beatrice is her first name, shes called bea or bee though." tommy said confirming what he overheard at dinner the two nights before and at the bar. whoever she was with called her those three names. "she was with her cousin but she didn't say his name." michael added and tommy nodded. "are we gonna talk about this or the number of guys that just so happened to show up when she did?" arthur questioned and tommy sighed. "i was just getting to that." he said tensely. "apparently the woman you fancy, has an ulterior motive to being here and of course we are going to get to the bottom of it." arthur explained and tommy tensed softly. he had a sneaky suspicion on why she was here but there was seriously no way she'd be involved in something sketchy. "i know what your thinking michael, its true. my contact in london already confirming." tommy said setting his now empty tea cup down, trying to convince himself. "oi sit down and no more business talk!" polly said coming in and shoving her son towards the empty seat.

ꕥ

bea and gio sat across from each other in the cafe, laughing and chatting about life and childhood memories. the two hadn't had some time with each other in months, with all the running around gio was doing for her brothers. "please tell me that one day you'll get out." she said seriously swirling her coffee. he sighed, "gio please." she said leaning forward and grabbing his hand. "you know your mother would have wanted that for you. to make a life of your own, away from the capones." she said softly and he nodded. "i know i know, once this job is over I'm gone. i'm heading someplace warm." he smiled and that made bea happy. she took her hand away and looked down and that's when she heard shouting. but not directed towards her but a group of men were going in on one of her men that her brother hired. her head shot up, looking at gio. "lets go!"" gio" he said not wanting to be caught in the middle of this. gio took ahold of bea's hand and they ran off the way the way they had come from. shots rang out and that made bea stop in her tracks. "bea we have to go, they cant know." gio said grabbing and then pulling her further and further towards the hotel. the guys that shot her men walked out and shot twice into the air, causing bea and others to scream. the two continued to run, their hearts beating fast. the shelbys heard the gunshot down the road and they stood up. they came outside after the next two rang out. bea and gio continued to walk back towards the hotel along with other patrons, with bea panicking at the situation. gio had an arm around her middle back, pushing her to keep walking. tommy walked out in front of pol's residence and just as luck would have it, bea and gio walking past. bea held onto gio, shaken.

out of all the years she worked with her brothers, she'd never been remotely close to the scene of the crime after she witnessed one back on new york. they made very sure to keep her away. tommy caught eye of the girl and watched as she walked with her cousin. polly eyed him from behind, smirking just a little bit. tommy of course then going into cleanup mode. as soon as gio and bea made it back to the hotel, she clung to marco with gio explaining what had happened. marco and her laid in her bed, as he rubbed her back trying to soothe her thoughts as she stared at the dresser. gio sent word back through a trusted wales associate. bea could not fathom how her brothers could live this life and continue to go on like nothing happened. bea turned towards marco and cuddled into him, unsure if she could leave his side again in brimingham.

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i know i know, there was not a lot but this is just setting up the tension and high stakes !!!

#michael gray #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur gray #al capone #michael gray x oc #john shelby #Tommy Shelby x oc #Tommy Shelby fic #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x oc #Thomas Shelby fic

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