#back in london and looking as gorgeous as ever after ruining my life by climbing the hollywood sign ....
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Tom Cruise at a heliport in London!
#back in london and looking as gorgeous as ever after ruining my life by climbing the hollywood sign ....#MY QUEEN#tom cruise#cruise updates
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A Tragic Birthday
REQUEST: Could you do an imagine where the reader is a Shelby sister and Tommy’s favourite sibling and one day a deal goes wrong or something and she dies but kinda how grace died, in Tommy’s arms and it’s all hectic. Thanks:)
I was going to take a little break (only to the weekend) because tumblr was stressing me out and annoying me but when I started this, I couldn’t stop and I don’t like sitting on fics.
TW: Death
WORD COUNT: 2681
[PART TWO]
It was (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday coming up in a week and it was safe to say that she was excited. (Y/N) had been looking forward to that day since her older brother Tommy had promised her a large party to celebrate the year before, and now that it was literally only days away she couldn’t stop buzzing about it, no doubt irritating her older siblings.
(Y/N) was the youngest of the Shelby siblings, a few years younger than Finn and was primarily raised by her Aunt Polly and her eldest brothers Arthur and Tommy. (Y/N) and Tommy were the closest between the siblings and had a special bond, that none of the others could replicate with their youngest sibling but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t close to her other siblings, because she was. In fact, it could be said that she had a special thing with each of her siblings; with Ada, they were close because they were the only girls in the family, Finn was the closest in age to her and they grew up as each other’s best friend, Arthur was the closest thing to a father she had and (Y/N) knew if she needed comforting then he would be the person she went to and John was someone she could rant to without judgment and he was always willing to help her out whenever she got in a sticky situation.
But the bond (Y/N) had with Tommy was different and there was no doubt that they were each other’s, favourite siblings. When their mother had died, Tommy had taken on the role as her primary caretaker, he changed her nappies, bottle-fed her and pretty much did anything a father would do. Polly had told her about how when she was a baby, Tommy would get a large piece of fabric and wrap her in it and secure her to his chest so that her cheeks rested on his chest because she would cry whenever she wasn’t being held by him and that it allowed him to keep her calm and content while he got some work done.
Just as much as (Y/N) hated being away from Tommy, Tommy hated being away from (Y/N) just as bad. He was overly protective when she was born, only allowing his Aunt Polly to get involved and help him out because despite thinking he knew everything, Tommy most definitely did not know how to handle a baby, especially not a newborn but he learnt and adapted and became a dad to her.
(Y/N) were three when Arthur, Tommy and John had to leave and go to war and Tommy to this day still has nightmares of how she screamed and cried to the point where she was almost sick at the train platform where he and the hundreds of other men from Small Heath were leaving from. (Y/N) didn’t understand what war was or why were her brothers were leaving but she did understand that her Tommy was leaving and she hated it.
Tommy had made a thousand promises to (Y/N) as he held her in his arms that day on the platform, repeatedly promising to come back alive and well and that he would never abandon her again and Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep them but he made it his goal to come back to her and the rest of his family.
But he didn’t break those promises and four years later, he was sobbing into the dress of a seven-year-old (Y/N), who was crying just as hard into his neck. The only time (Y/N) ever left Tommy’s arms the rest of that day was to hug her other brothers but other than that, (Y/N) was stuck to Tommy’s side. She was silent at first, slightly awkward around her brother who she hadn’t seen in years but it didn’t take long for her to become comfortable and start to quietly mutter into Tommy’s ear about everything he had missed whilst he was away and Tommy sat there in shock as she did so, marvelling at how much his little girl has grown. When he had left, she had just started to string sentences together but now she could speak in full sentences and was chatty, something he guessed she picked up from Ada.
That night as (Y/N) was curled up into a ball asleep beside him, Tommy cried once again. He was glad he was back home and alive but he knew nothing was going to be the same anymore but he was determined to keep things as normal as possible for her whilst she grew up and he was going to create a good life and world for her to live in.
And now eleven years after he’s returned home from the war, he’s pushed all his work to the side to prepare for the birthday of his little munchkin. Tommy had been dealing with an issue for the past week which involved one of his clients thinking he was overpaying for the Peaky Blinders services and was now demanding a refund. One that obviously Tommy refused to give.
Tommy called in the person who had knocked on the door, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork he was looking through.
“Hello to you too, Tommy.” The person said as they stepped into the office, moving to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of Tommy’s desk.
Tommy grinned when they spoke up, instantly recognising the voice,
“Good morning (Y/N), what have I done to be blessed with your presence this early in the morning?”
“I have the finalised cost list for the party.”
Tommy pushed his other work to the side and took the piece of paper from (Y/N)’s fingers and skimmed his eyes over it, letting out a low whistle at the final amount,
“You plan on bleeding me dry eh?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and smiled, “Don’t even try it. I know my party costs less than what the Garrison re-opening did.”
“How do you know how much the Garrison cost?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.
“I just do.” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, a smug look on her face.
“Stop tricking Arthur into letting you see the company files” Tommy pointed a non-threating finger at his youngest sister who only rolled her eyes.
(Y/N) bit her lip in nervousness before she spoke up, “It’s not too expensive, is it? I can remove some stuff if you want!”
Tommy got up from his seat and walked around his desk and leant on it, patting (Y/N) on the head, “It’s not expensive, don’t worry, I was only teasing I’m sorry. You don’t turn eighteen everyday eh?”
“You’re the best Tommy!” (Y/N) leapt up and tightly hugged her brother.
“I know.”
Tommy laughed at (Y/N)’s scoff.
“Any plans for today?” Tommy asked as he went back around his desk and sat back down.
“Ada’s taking me down to London to pick up my dress.”
“Hmm, spending the whole day?”
“I think so. I mean we might as well. Karl and Finn are coming along too so we should be able to find something to do.” (Y/N) made her way to the door.
“Have fun.”
“Will do!” She called over her shoulder as she left his office
It was the day before (Y/N)’s birthday and the clients of Tommy’s that thought they were being scammed have only become an irritant to Shelby brothers, making threats and destroying property has become their form of revenge and attention-grabbing at the moment but none of them could do anything at that moment, all three of them making a promise to their youngest sister not to do anything gang related on the day off or the day before her birthday. (Y/N) desperately not wanting her birthday to be ruined and her brother understood and promised her that they wouldn’t. It was bugging Tommy that he had to wait on retaliating on them but he told himself years ago that his family came above everything else, especially his (Y/N).
On the morning of her birthday, (Y/N) slipped out of her bed and crawled into Tommy’s, his arm automatically wrapping her shoulder as she curled into his side. This was a semi-common occurrence between the two of them, originating from when Tommy started to try and put (Y/N) in her own bed in her own room for the night when she was a year old but it only took a few hours before (Y/N) was climbing out of her bed or Tommy himself took her back to his room. Though it had become less of a thing as (Y/N) grew up as her room was pretty much the only place that she could get peace and quiet and privacy from her wild family. (Y/N)’s room became her sanctuary.
“Good morning, Tommy!” (Y/N) chirped
“G’morning princess.” Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“Here.” Tommy had pulled out a jewellery box from the draw in his bedside table and held it out to her.
“What’s this?” (Y/N) didn’t open the box straight away.
“My gift to you.”
“I thought the party was your gift to me”
“Take the gift (Y/N) or I’ll throw it in the bin.”
“Alright alright, christ almighty.”
(Y/N) slowly opened the box and gasped at what laid inside. It was a diamond necklace, simple yet elegant. Exactly (Y/N)’s style.
“Oh, Tommy. It’s gorgeous, thank you.”
“Glad you like it. Now get washed and dressed, I’m still taking you out for brunch.”
(Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek and left his room, not wanting to delay.
After their brunch, (Y/N) spent the rest of the day getting ready for the party and running around fretting about the smallest things, only settling down after a threat from Ada. After several impatient shouts from John and Finn, (Y/N) was finally making her way downstairs to the rest of her family who made of a series of appreciative noises when they saw her, causing her to smile.
“You look wonderful darling.” Polly walked over to her and gave her a hug before leading her outside and towards the Garrison where the party was being held, the rest of the family following behind them.
“How’s your day been so far?” Polly asked her.
“Good! Brunch with Tommy was great as per usual.” (Y/N) grinned.
(Y/N) usually had brunch with Tommy and then dinner with the rest of her family on her birthday but because this year was slightly different, they were doing dinner the next day.
“I’m glad.” Polly patted her hands and they continued their journey with small nonsense chatter, Ada and Esme quickly joining in.
The party was already in full swing when they arrived, drinks were being passed around and the music was pounding and as soon as she stepped foot into the pub, (Y/N) was dragged away by her friends, the bunch of them squealing and giggling.
Tommy and his brothers were sat on a table tucked away but placed somewhere where they can see pretty much the whole room but despite that, they couldn’t see who had slipped into the pub.
Tommy too deep into conversation with Jeremiah Jesus and one too many drinks deep meant that he didn’t notice that something was up until the music suddenly stopped and screams erupted, and as he looked up to see what was happening, his blood ran cold at what he saw.
His little sister trapped in the arms of the client that was pissed off at him, with his gun held to her temple. The man wasn’t by himself, he had brought along two other men. (Y/N) was frozen in shock, afraid that one small mistake would result in her getting hurt.
Tommy slowly stood up and noticed his brothers and other Peaky Blinders do the same thing, each of them pulling out their guns. They easily outnumbered the three men but that didn’t matter as Tommy’s top priority was (Y/N)’s safety
“Thomas Shelby! We’re tired of being taken advantage of by people like you. We’ll have it no more!” One of the men shouted.
“Okay, alright. I hear you. Let’s talk, okay? But before that, I’m going to need you to let all these people go okay, they’re innocent.” Tommy gestured to people plastered to the walls of the Garrison, (Y/N)’s friends crying.
The man nodded and everyone quickly ran out, the only people left in the pub being Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Polly, Ada and Michael.
“Now, let the woman in your arms go. She’s just a teenager.”
The leader was the man holding (Y/N) and hesitated before he stood his ground, “No! If I let her go then you’ll just kill me. I want my money back Shelby!”
Arthur grumbled unhappily and shifted, causing Tommy to hold out his arm in warning.
“If you let her go we won’t.” Tommy placed his gun on the table as a sign of truce, “Just let her go.”
The man slowly nodded and loosened his grip allowing (Y/N) to slip through a take a slow step forward, sobs spilling through her lips.
“You’re alright, you’re fine. C’mon.” Tommy held out his arms for (Y/N) and took a step towards her.
“No! Stop letting him win, it’s not fair!” One of the man’s sidemen shouted in rage before a loud bang sounded.
The room was silent as everyone tried to understand what had happened and it was until stuttered gasps left (Y/N) did Tommy understand what had happened.
“No!” Tommy raced over to (Y/N) and caught her in his arms just as her legs buckled.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.” Tommy slowly lowered himself to ground with her in his arms. (Y/N)’s blood spilling through her dress and on to him.
“(Y/N), n-no p-please. O-oh god no”
(Y/N) let out a soft noise of distress as Tommy harshly pressed on the bullet wound.
“I know precious, I know it hurts but I have to do it.” Tommy didn’t even realise he was crying until (Y/N) gently flinched when a tear fell on her face.
“Polly! Polly help!” Tommy heard the clicking of his aunt’s heels before he felt her pushing his hands away. “Polly-- no I’ve got to help her”
“Tommy, let me check on her okay?” His aunt convinced him to move away so check on (Y/N)
Tommy had been so engrossed with (Y/N) that he had no idea what going elsewhere until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance. It was Arthur and John was right behind him, both had blood splattered on them. Finn was crouched down by (Y/N)’s head softly brushing her hair back as he whispered into her ear, Tommy could see the tears slowly sliding down his face.
“Tommy” His aunt had a defeated look on her face and slowly shook her head.
“No! You’re wrong!” Tommy pushed past his aunt and shoved Finn aside so that he could fully bring (Y/N) into his arms, slowly rocking for side to side, loudly sobbing.
(Y/N) was in too much pain to speak and used the remnants of her energy to squeeze Tommy’s hand as tight as she could before she finally passed.
Tommy felt (Y/N) slightly slump in his arms and knew what had happened, letting a loud cry of pain. Tommy heard the cries and shouts and tears of his family around him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he was too wrapped up in the pain of his youngest sister that was more like a daughter to him an how her death was his fault.
His darling girl was dead.
#tommy shelby imagines#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinders imagines#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders x reader#Peaky Blinders#tommy shelby fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#imagines#fanfic#angst#shelby sister#shelby!sister#shelby!reader#Tommy Shelby#sister!reader
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Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)
My Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Summary: The first few weeks of classes had certainly hit you like a freight train. But thankfully, Bucky was there to help you get through it all.
Word Count: 3336
Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanoff,
Warnings: No Smut, Only Fluff, Exam Stress
A/N: Reputation was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name and her song Delicate off of that album. This is my entry for @buckysmischief‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen once again for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. GO READ IT, IT’S THE BEST COLLEGE AU EVER READ! This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. I DON’T OWN THE GIFS. CREDITS TO THE OWNERS. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.
The sun was shining bright against the parted curtains as you awoke the next day, the sapphire-like eyes of Bucky Barnes gleaming against the light as they landed on yours.
A gasp as your eyes met his; you stared up at him with your brows raised. “James, have you been watching me sleep?”
He gave you a tight-lipped smile before leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Not my fault that you look so gorgeous when you’re asleep...”
“Creep.” You giggled, climbing out of his bed and grabbing your clothes from the floor.
“Leaving so soon?” Bucky asked you, his lips curling into a pout.
You sat on the edge of his bed as you slipped into your undergarments. “I was hoping to get a head start on some readings before my new roommate gets in at noon.”
“Studious much, doll?” He remarked. “Do I need to remind you that classes haven’t even started yet? You don’t have to go at full speed so early on in the semester. You’ll burn out.”
“But I’ve got a 4.0 to maintain and MCATs to prepare for. I’m sure you know that this year’s not a joke, James.” You clarified once you got dressed. “I have no time for distractions.”
“Is that all I am to you? A distraction?”
“I didn’t say that you were.” You giggled, crawling over to straddle his lap. “But you did keep me from studying last night so... yeah, I guess that does make you a distraction.”
“I really don’t want to distract you from doing well in school, so I’ll make you a deal. How about that?” He suggested, wrapping his arms around you and looking up at you with a genuine smile. “I’ll tutor you again this year... free of charge, of course. That way you don’t have to worry about that GPA of yours and you can have some fun without beating yourself up over it – which, I’ve noticed is something that you seem to do a lot.”
“If you wanted me to sleep with you again, all you had to do was ask instead of beating around the bush, James.” You told him with a cheeky grin, neither of them wanting to deny the attraction that you had been feeling for years. “But since you’re offering, I don’t think I could turn down a good tutor. You’re pretty much the reason why I made the Dean’s List my freshman year.”
You were well aware that Bucky Barnes’ reputation included not sleeping with someone more than once. The untold truth around campus included that he gives you your best night but he doesn't call you back. For some odd reason, you felt that your ordeal with James was more than just a one time thing. There was something about the look in his eyes that said he’d wanted more to do with you, and deep down you did too. For now though, you could definitely accept the sex and the tutoring sessions combined.
“Yes, we can be study buddies!” A triumphant smile was on his face as he hugged you tight, making you fall off of his lap and onto the bed as you laughed.
“It’s going to be freshman year all over again, isn’t it? But with the sex this time.” You pointed out as you climbed off of his bed. “I should really get going though. I do have some errands to run and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
“I’ll walk you out.” He told you, climbing out of bed and pulling on his briefs. Grabbing his t-shirt from the floor, he pulled it over his head before turning back to you.“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast, Y/N? I think Steve should be up and making breakfast right now. His French toast is to die for.”
You shook your head. “James, you’re really taking the ‘shame’ out of my walk of shame.” You giggled, throwing your arms over his neck. “How about some other time?”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He grabbed onto your waist and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I had a wonderful time last night.”
“Do you say that to all your other one night stands?” You asked him with a smirk, though you couldn’t deny that you had a wonderful time as well. Bucky Barnes sure did live up to his reputation.
“No, just the ones who are so beautiful, intelligent and hardworking.”
You couldn’t help but blush at that comment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, James.”
A hearty laugh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up at that moment. You had never seen him like this before.
Up until then, the James you knew only ever let you see his eyes when they were filled with lust. But after last night, he seemed a lot less rigid. You couldn’t deny that there was a certain sense of comfort that came with the physical intimacy that you had shared.
It was a strange feeling to say the least, but you were unable to describe it. For someone with a hell of a lot of trust issues, thanks to Margaret Sykes, you found yourself believing that you could put all of your trust in someone else on campus – let alone New York University’s resident Casanova.
“I always wondered why you chose to stay behind at NYU when you could have gone to Columbia with me.” Steve Rogers pointed out to his best friend who barged into the kitchen after bidding farewell to his recent one night stand, who happened to be someone he knew very well. “And now I know the answer to that.”
Bucky could not help but roll his eyes as he walked up to the kitchen island. A part of him was eager to let him know how right he was, but he knew better than to give Steve that kind of satisfaction. Confirming that you had something to do with him going to NYU Med would mean that he would not hear the end of it. The Casanova of NYU staying behind for medical school for a girl he had once tutored? Oh, the horror!
Sitting up on the stool next to his best friend’s girlfriend, he looked down at his plate of a full English breakfast before raising his eyebrow. “Good morning, you punk.” He chuckled before turning over to look at Peggy. “Good morning, Peggy. I hope I didn’t cause the two of you any disturbance last night.”
“Oh no, I passed out quite early last night. I’m still running on London time.” The woman pointed out as she took a bite of her breakfast. As she had spent the summer months across the pond with her brother, she was quite jet lagged. “And I’m sure that Steve’s gotten used to your wild nights while I’ve been away. Haven’t you, darling?”
“It’s your place, Buck. You can do whatever you want.” Steve fixed himself a plate of breakfast before walking around the kitchen island to take a seat next to Peggy. “But you and Y/N... I’ll be honest, Bucky. I never would have seen it coming.”
“Yeah, but you live here too. I just wanted to give you that respect and courtesy.” Chuckling softly as he picked up his fork to eat, Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either. Y/N was not like the others, Steve. She wouldn’t sleep with me just because everyone else was sleeping with me and that actually made her stand out.”
“But now that you’ve slept with her-”
“Steve, there’s absolutely no need for you to be jumping into conclusions right now.” He cut him off. “I know that you’re concerned because she’s someone you know. But I promise you, there’s nothing else going on between Y/N and I.” He clarified. “We just slept together and I offered to tutor her for this semester because she’s thinking of taking the MCATs.”
But the blonde haired man could not get himself to believe his best friend that easily. “It’s not that I know her, Bucky. I know you. I know that emotional availability... Not your cup of tea. And Y/N seems like someone who wants something like that and I’d hate to see you ruin her.”
“Come on, Steve! It’s not like I would have had the time for my shenanigans once classes start back up again. Can’t a guy have a little fun before his first week of med school, pal?” He asked with a shrug of his shoulders, finally taking a bite of his food. “Besides, it’s not like I forced her into it either. She said she wanted it and I did too.”
“Consent is extremely important.” Peggy gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, mate.”
Bucky gave her a smile before turning back to his best friend. “I know I have a reputation, Steve, and I’m not always proud of it. But I’m trying my best to change my ways. I can’t keep going on like this and I do know that. You have nothing to worry about.”
“If you say so.” Steve nodded, smiling. “To be honest, I am kind of glad that she’s having a little fun. I’ve never met someone who had so much time on her hands until I met her. That poor girl used to sign up for eight hour blocks when volunteering for UNICEF while everyone else did one of two hours a week. Her commitment to the club was truly concerning.”
Bucky could not help but let out a genuine laugh at that. As he was well aware that you had sworn against having a social life after the Margaret incident, he understood why you would have spent so much time volunteering when you weren’t studying.
But he was also grateful to be able to get you to change your mind about having a little fun. After all, college was all about change and growth. And as it turns out, the two of you would get to grow up together.
Once you got back to your dorm, you had found the time to clean up your room and have a quick shower before your new roommate was due to arrive. But if first impressions were the best impressions, then Natasha Romanoff seemed to be one of the sweetest human beings you could have ever met. A few years older than you, she was a master’s student studying Global Journalism at Gallatin after completing her undergrad at UCLA.
One thing you knew about the Gallatin students: they were all about the self-study so you need not worry that your academic goals would be any different from your roommate’s.
“I’m taking a few classes here in the fall and finalizing my research proposal in the winter. Hopefully, I can land an internship with the UN for the summer months.” She explained. “I’ve always wanted to work for the UN, so the internship would be a great start to that.”
“If you’re interested in working for the UN, may I interest you in an executive position with the UNICEF chapter on campus? I am the current president of the club, because our last one graduated and went off to Columbia Med School. I could definitely use someone who’s a lot more... familiar with the organization being on the executive committee.” You suggested, laughing softly as you finally started warming up to her. “If you have the time, of course... I do know that master’s classes may be time consuming.”
“Oh no, I’m down for it. I was actually going to look into the club myself.” The redhead admitted, grinning widely. “I can certainly offer a few hours a week to help you out. Would you need me to apply for the executive position or is it free for all around here?”
“First off, I would have to put up an application on the clubs page and then promote the hell out of it during Clubs Week, which is the second week of school. I have so much to do and I’m getting ahead of myself here.” You clarified with a laugh. “But it’s yours if you want it. You’re certainly qualified for it.”
Laughing softly at your over-enthusiasm with running the club, something that she certainly seemed to identify with, she nodded in agreement. “Well, if you need me to help you out with anything, you know where I live.” She winked.
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You smiled back at her, certainly relieved that you were getting along with your new roommate.
The first few weeks of classes had certainly hit you like a freight train. But juggling a full-time course load had become a lot easier than you had expected after a while; thanks to James Barnes and his genuine commitment to being anything but a distraction for you. Your weekends off had been spent studying together at the library – sharing an entire table in one of the quiet spaces, your textbooks and notepads spread out, along with highlighters and felt pens in primary colors.
Perks of his photographic memory, Bucky did not take as much time to retain the information as you did. So, once he had reviewed the study notes that he had already memorized, a majority of his time was spent helping you create your colour-coded flash cards. Your study dates were always productive, neither of you mentioning the other half of your ordeal until you had covered all of the material you needed to cover.
It was only when the two of you decided to call it a night and stepped out of the library did the man look over at you with a smirk on his lips. “Feelin’ tired yet, doll?”
You would shake your head as you walked along the sidewalk. “I think I’ve had a productive day. I think I deserve a little fun.” You would say with a blush, and the two of you would head back to your dorm, leaving Natasha to be sexiled to the common room. She never seemed to mind it though, since at least one of you was getting some action.
But even though the sex was good, school always came first to the both of you.
Following your biochemistry mid-term that morning, you found yourself trotting across campus to the Student Life office to begin your afternoon shift. Dried up leaves crunching under your converse as you skipped along the sidewalk, you let out a hearty breath to see the condensation rise to the air.
The sunny weather disappeared weeks ago, taken over by the chilly autumn winds. Halloween was coming up soon and the UNICEF chapter on campus had managed to run a successful food drive as the first campaign for the semester. You had been planning to drive the donations down to your nearest Feeding America facility that weekend. But for now, you needed sleep... or maybe a cup of coffee to get you through your shift.
As you entered the office, you quickly removed your denim jacket and hung it up on one of the hooks. Taking in the warmth of being indoors for a moment, you walked around the desk and sat down on the empty seat next to your co-worker whom you had been frequently scheduled to work with. “Hey, Wanda.”
“You look dead.” The woman pointed out in the midst of chewing a bite of her lunch, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her as she read through an email.
“I feel dead.” You admitted, laughing softly. A few days had passed since the last time you’d had a good night’s sleep, and now that midterms were over you were longing to finish off your shift and get some well-deserved rest. “And I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”
“Want a bite?”
The familiar aroma of paprika drifted up your nostrils as she held her Tupperware container towards you, making your stomach growl. Your lips curl into a smirk as you before you shook your head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine... I take it your boyfriend cooked for you again?”
She nodded, grinning widely. “It may have taken him a few tries but he’s finally mastered how to make chicken paprikash.”
“I think you’ve pretty much won if you’ve found a man who makes sure you’re well-fed.” You agreed, laughing softly before you the sound of the door opening made you turn your head.
You blinked your eyes to be rid of your exhaustion as you saw James Barnes enter the office. The smile on your lips growing wider as he approached you, you looked over at him with your eyebrows raised. But what caught your eyes wasn’t just the fatigue that was evident in his eyes. You also noticed that he was holding a brown paper bag and a coffee cup.
“Hello, beautiful.” He set down the cup and the bag on the counter in front of you as he came to a stop, his eyes not leaving yours as he spoke. “How’d it go this morning?”
“Pretty good...” You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly before you let out a yawn. “I think Fury’s being a little easy on us this semester.”
“That’s good.” He smiled at you before turning over to look at Wanda. “Hello, Maximoff.”
“Hey, Bucky.” The woman greeted him, her gaze returning to the screen in front of her as she took another bite of her lunch.
As it turns out, Bucky and Wanda had known each other through his sister. A brother from another mother, she’d called him when he had first stopped by the office to see you a few weeks ago. But he had been popping by every now and then, sometimes to drop off some study notes that you had forgotten and other times to bring you some food if you had mentioned that you had no time to eat between classes and your shift.
“What brings you here, James?”
“I just finished my last midterm for Anatomy this morning and I knew that you had your last one too. I thought you could use a little something to celebrate, maybe a little pick-me-up to help you get through the shift.” He replied, motioning towards the bag. “They’re the cannoli’s that you liked from that little Italian place in Brooklyn.”
A tired smile on your lips as you looked up at him; you reached over the counter to grab the bag. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
A soft grin on his face as he ran his hand through his hair, he gave you a nod. “I should get going. I have to pick Steve up from his exam. Text me when you get home, yeah?”
You nodded, your cheeks heating up as you watched him step away from the counter. “Yeah... bye.”
Once he turned around and walked out of the office, you reached into the bag to grab a cannoli for yourself. You could feel Wanda’s prying eyes staring down at you and you turned to face her. “Want a bite?”
Her eyebrow raised as she looked over at you, she let out a sigh of disbelief. “That was like the third or fourth time this month.” She noted. “If you’re really going to tell me that there’s nothing going on between the two of you, I’d say you should find someone who’s dumb enough to believe it, Y/N.”
You rolled your eyes as you swallowed your bite. “Oh come on, Wanda, it’s nothing!”
“I think you’ve pretty much won if you’ve found a man who makes sure you’re well-fed... Yeah, that doesn’t look like nothing to me, darling.” She told you with a rather mocking tone in her voice, and you could not help but let out a laugh at that.
#gabs1kwritingchallenge#aj writes#reputation#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes series#college!bucky#college au
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Pain Is So Close To Pleasure (Platonic!Reader x Modern!Queen)
Summary: As a recently promoted Soloist for the Royal Ballet, you move closer to Covent Garden with your four-year-old daughter, Rose. But your new neighbour turns out to be the last person you'd expect to pop up on your doorstep.
A/N: Fun fact, there is a woman called Elizabeth Harrod who is a soloist for the Royal Ballet, has a 4-year-old child and once played the character mentioned. All by coincidence. And she is married to Steven McRae who was the inspiration for the fic I was hugely inspired by. Fun times guys. I used to dance ballet once or twice a week for about 5 years but stopped 4 years ago. And I may or may not be regretting my decision to quit. Oh well. I really hope you liked this, do leave feedback if you don't mind and perhaps a like or even a reblog? I have at least 3 more ideas for this but if you think of anything then please please please let me know! Stay hydrated kiddos!
Warning(s): swearing, mentioned arguments, crying, mentioned nightmares, reader is female btw
Inspiration: Brian May’s instagram, Incandescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Modern Times Rock N Roll by @rhapso-kei on Tumblr and AO3, Outed by @platawnic on Tumblr
Word Count: 7.2k+ (it’s a big boi lads)
Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty
Ask to be on my taglist if you want!
Never in a million years had you ever expected moving to a new house to be this fun. For it was only carrying boxes into the house repeatedly for hours at a time. Right?
Wrong!
It turned out that the opportunities for games increased tenfold when you have a child. The child in question had barely even stepped out of the van when she suggested that you compete against each other to see who could carry the most boxes into your new house. Given that you had actual professionals lifting the heavy stuff – chairs, tables and so forth – racing would actually speed things up with getting the smaller boxes in the house.
Small footsteps increased in volume before a similarly small voice asked, “What next, Mummy?”
You looked up at you daughter from where you were awkwardly crouched inside the delivery van, shockingly ungraceful for a ballerina, just for one moment amidst all of the chaos that came with moving to a new house. All wrapped up in her khaki green coat, her nose and cheeks were tinted with the pink of harsh January mornings. Her eyes were the same colour as yours, the most beautiful shade of (Y/E/C), and were always alive with excitement; today was no exception. She was almost the perfect likeness to you: the same skin, the same nose, the same lips. Her hair was more like that of her father’s, but she was beautiful all the same, and more importantly your precious girl.
You dragged yourself out of your daydream and passed a relatively small stack of books to Rose, “You got it?” you asked uncertainly, images of newly-ruined books spilt over the floor flashing through your mind for a second.
“Yup!” she was already running into the house and up the stairs by then and you chuckled despite yourself. You dragged a transparent plastic box from the back of the van to where you had now positioned yourself. This one was full to the brim of dead pointe shoes, each pair decorated with paints and lace and beads and whatever you had in the house at the time; one even had uncooked pasta stuck to it. You were sure that you were going to find more boxes like these considering how many pairs you had worn over the years.
It had become a sort of tradition for you, to decorate each pair of pointe shoes once they died, never quite being able to let go of them. You wrote their date of ‘birth’ – when you wore them for the first time - and their date of ‘death’ – the day they finally broke – on the sole of each shoe in gold paint and a fine brush. Often, they were the same date, which was evidence of how hard you worked. You liked to decorate the wings and the vamp using a random theme, usually shows you had performed. The ones you had oh-so-carefully picked up however was Tangled-themed, chosen by Rose when you had had a lack of inspiration. You placed it back down and swapped it for another, this time a Swan Lake pair. You smiled to yourself at the memories attached to that particular pair; it had been your first ever professional show, when you were still in the Royal Ballet School and the company had merged with the school for the first time since your arrival. You looked at the dates on the soles and almost gasped despite yourself.
16.12.2012 ~ 23.12.2012
Just over 5 years ago.
Those shoes were almost an entire year older than Rose. You couldn’t quite believe that you had been involved with the Royal for so long. It felt like mere days, weeks at the most. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the sheer number of shoes in the box and the combined weight of them all, seen as you went through upwards of 100 pairs every season. Fortunately, ballet wasn’t just turns, leaps, plies and wearing gorgeous costumes, it required a great deal of strength so carrying the box into the house was hardly a problem.
From a stranger’s glance, your new home appeared to be a house, Georgian with bricks the colour of coffee, immaculately painted and symmetrical to every other house in the immediate vicinity. But this was London, more importantly this was central London, and that meant you’d have to be a multi-millionaire in order to afford an actual house. It also meant that the whole block was once something that could only be described as a miniature mansion, and had been split up into houses and now, several flats. One of which you were now the proud owner.
You had spent a long time saving up for this flat; you had needed more space for you and your daughter for a while now and you had been long overdue a change from that studio flat in Camden. So, when this flat came up for sale, you felt as if all of your prayers had been answered. Compared to your previous home, this one had buckets of space, you had a bedroom each for a start. It was a mere twenty-minute walk to the Royal Opera House, making it so much easier when you had late performances or overrunning rehearsals. Or when you accidentally forgot your leg warmers or spare pointe shoes, incidents that happened more often than you would like.
You climbed the staircase to your first-floor flat; you supposed that that would take some getting used to, especially after long days of back-to-back classes, rehearsals and shows. You pretty much dumped the box of pointe shoes on the floor of the living room and turned around to leave only to have Rose collide straight into you.
“Sorry, Mummy!” she giggled, as sweet as ever, and blew you a kiss as a form of apology.
“That’s alright, darling, it was only an accident,” you blew her a kiss back, “Now, where did you put your books?”
She grabbed your hand and tugged you incessantly to your bedroom, “Look!” she pointed proudly to the stack of books on your bed, which looked as if it could collapse at a moment’s notice, but a stack, nonetheless.
Your heart broke slightly when you realised: she still thought you had to share a room. You crouched down to be eye-level with her, “Rose, why don’t you put them in your room, instead? They’re your books, sweetie, not mine.”
“But they are in my room,” she frowned, head cocked to the side in confusion.
“No, this is Mummy’s room. Your room is next door,” it was your turn to lead her into her own bedroom, a tad more gently than how she’d done it, and her eyes opened wide with wonder.
“I can have my own room?” her voice filled with disbelief and your heart ached terribly.
“Of course, princess. This flat is much, much bigger than our old one.”
She squealed with excitement and threw her arms around you, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, before running off to grab her picture books. You stood up, shaking your head with a chuckle before returning to the van. You grabbed another box, this one stuffed with Rose’s toys, “Rose! Can you come and bring this one in?”
She catapulted down the stairs, forever a tiny hurricane, and snatched the box out of your hands. You made your way to the front door with another box in your arms for about the hundredth time that day but stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the pavement.
Rose was wandering down the street, box of toys long forgotten and left on the stairs, heading straight for the busy road perpendicular to your own. You dropped your own box on the pavement and broke out into a full-on sprint to stop her, heart pounding with fear. She was reaching the end of the pavement, completely oblivious to the cars speeding along to her right, and to the car that was indicating to turn left. For a fleeting second you thought the reckless driver was going to hit her, when a man suddenly ran out f the pharmacy at the end of the road and swept her up into his arms. You scowled, endlessly grateful that she hadn’t been hurt, but more than slightly annoyed that a complete stranger had the audacity to pick up your precious girl. Your maternal instincts went into overdrive and, once you reached them, you snatched Rose back from the man.
“Get your hands off my child,” you glared at him. Now you could get a far better look at him, you could tell he definitely wasn’t young, his white hair and beard gave that away instantly. His eyes were masked by sunglasses, confusing you slightly; it may have been sunny that day, but it was only January. Something about him was strangely familiar to you, it was hard to describe but you were sure you recognised the overall aura he had about him. You shook off the thought for now, you could ponder over it long after Rose had gone to bed and you finally had some time to yourself. Speaking of Rose, you shifted your focus to her; she seemed unharmed, if a little shaken up. You placed her on your hip and she instinctively tucked her head into the crook of your neck and looked at the man curiously.
“Well, I did just save her life, you could at least say thank you,” the stranger muttered, his voice gruff but somehow light.
Your gut dropped; you recognised that voice. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but that voice was way too unique to be anyone else’s. He must have seen the cogs turn in your head for he smirked slightly.
Internally, you were freaking the fuck out because holy shit you think you just met Roger fucking Taylor, but externally, you attempted to keep your composure because it didn’t matter who he was, he still grabbed your daughter and he was crazy if he thought you were going to let that slide.
You were frantically trying to think of something, anything, to you say when Rose felt the need to come to your rescue, “Are you Santa?”. When no one said anything because you were both, quite frankly, too stunned to reply, her excitement just grew, “Mummy, look, it’s Santa! Santa saved me!” she turned to look at him and put on her sweetest voice, “Thank you, Santa!”
He sighed, knowing full well he was about to break this poor girl’s heart, and said, “No, I’m not Santa, he lives a long way away.”
She pouted before finding something else that entertained her, “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” she giggled, holding out a hand to try and rip them off of his face and nearly falling out of your arms in the process. You placed her back on the pavement, just to be on the safe side.
He reluctantly took them off and gave them to her, and she grasped them excitedly. She tried to put the sunglasses on, but they were far too big for her, so they just kept sliding off, amusing her to no end.
You forced yourself to look at the man, now you were definitely sure it was Roger and fucking hell you hadn’t expected your day to go anything like the way it had. He raised an eyebrow and you only just clocked that he was still waiting for a reply. “Thank you for stopping her,” you said somewhat sheepishly; now you’d had the chance to think over what he’d actually done, you felt a little guilty for berating him like that. You’d naturally assumed he meant to cause harm somehow, but if he had had such intentions then surely, he wouldn’t have waited for you. He could have run off with Rose, but he didn’t. Naturally, you were still a little wary but while Rose had been interrogating the man over whether or not he was in fact Father Christmas, you had come to the conclusion that he was probably harmless.
*********************
By around lunchtime you had actually carried in everything that you could, so you’d decided that the rest of the day could be a well-earned lazy day. As you expected, Rose had had no objection to that whatsoever, seen as lazy days more often than not meant Disney marathons. You were making a light lunch, knowing that you’d need to save room for sheer amount of popcorn you’d bought from the corner shop, while Rose was picking out a film to start with.
“Mummy, I got one!” she called as you brought your sandwiches into the living room. She was sat by the TV, surrounded by DVDs with one in her hand. She squinted hard at the blurb of the DVD she was holding, as if she was trying to read it, which made you chuckle to yourself. “What are you laughing at?” she looked at you quizzically.
You shook your head slightly, not wanting to burst her little bubble, “Nothing, sweetheart. Which one did you choose?”
She stood up wobbly, coming incredibly close to falling right back down again but only just regaining her balance, “Zootropolis!” she had to say the word very slowly; the word was very hard to say for a four-year-old, even you struggled with it sometimes.
Zootropolis was one of her favourites at the moment, second only to Tangled, so you weren’t all that surprised by her choice. This would have been the fourth or fifth time watching it so far that month alone, and you were only about halfway through January. The joys of having a child, you thought wryly to yourself. Not that you’d ever complain to Rose. Besides, you’d much rather Zootropolis to Frozen, which you didn’t think you could ever watch again after being subjected to hearing Let It Go every day for weeks and then much longer in your head.
“Ah, good choice,” you said as she thrust the DVD in front of your face. You put the sandwiches down on the coffee table and took the DVD from her, “Why don’t you go and get a couple of your toys to watch the film with us while I set it up? Maybe you could get Nick and Judy.”
Her eyes positively lit up at the idea and she raced off to find them. You’d gone to Oxford Street just before Christmas to see all the lights and Christmas decorations, which then turned into going to the Disney store, which led into incessant begging from Rose to get one of the Zootropolis plushies. You’d ended up compromising, meaning she could get two of her choice, but she couldn’t play with them until Christmas. So now, any excuse to play with them was a good excuse and was guaranteed to keep her entertained for hours on end.
You had just put the disc in the TV when you heard the buzz signalling that someone was at the door. You were a little puzzled; you’d only just moved into this flat, how on earth did someone already have your address? You made your way to the door and held the button on the receiver, allowing you to talk to whoever was there, “Hello?”
“Hi, is this (Y/N)?” an unfamiliar female voice asked, only adding to your confusion.
“Yeah, who’s asking?”
“Well, my name’s Sarina, I think you met my husband this morning?”
A few minutes later, Sarina and Roger were sitting on your sofa with a cup of tea each, with you on the one-seater in front of the window, rhythmically pointing and relaxing your toes, a habit from dancing ballet pretty much every day for about fifteen years. It was around then when you started thinking about how weird this day was turning out to be. First, Roger Taylor saves your daughter’s life, then you give him your address even though you were sure you had no memory of that, and then him and his wife turn up to your flat for no apparent reason other than to have a chat.
You heard Rose’s obnoxiously loud footsteps run down the corridor and once she got to the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had her arms full with soft toys but dropped them all when she noticed your visitors, “Mummy, look it’s not-really-Santa!” she pointed, face lit up with glee at meeting her saviour once again. Then she noticed Sarina and pouted with confusion, “Who are you? Are you not-really-Mrs-Claus?”
“Darling, we told you he’s not actually Santa,” you lightly chastised her.
Rose just looked at you as if she was trying to be patronising, “I know, that’s why I said, ‘not really’!”
Sarina only laughed and said, “My name’s Sarina, I’m Roger’s wife.”
Rose just looked even more baffled than before, “Roger? Who’s Roger?”
Roger waved awkwardly, having not said anything the whole time he’d been there.
A quiet ‘ohhhh’ came from Rose, but her attention quickly returned to her dropped toys, which she promptly rescued from the floor and popped onto your lap. You raised an eyebrow at the pile and looked back at your daughter, “That’s quite a few toys, darling.”
Rose grinned cheekily, “Well, I got Judy and Nick because they’re in the movie but then I thought that my other animals would be sad that I left them out so I got Dumbo, Minnie and Mushu and then I got Rapunzel because she’s my favourite and she loves Pascal and he’s a chame-,” she stopped, understandably struggling with the word.
“Chameleon,” you whispered to try and help her out.
“Yeah, that,” she giggled, not even trying to say it. You put it down to having new people over who she wanted to impress so you made a mental note to help her with it later on.
You turned back to your guests, forgetting momentarily that they were even there, something which you often did while talking to Rose, “Sorry, we were just about to watch Zootropolis as a sort of ‘well done’ for moving all of our stuff inside in one morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, we just wanted to, well, welcome you to the neighbourhood, I guess. We live just down the road from here,” Sarina justified, and suddenly their surprise visit made so much more sense. You were infinitely grateful as even though it wasn’t like you had no friends at all who lived in London, it couldn’t hurt to have some close by.
“No, don’t apologise, it’s really sweet of you both, thank you so much,” you smiled at them both.
Roger then decided to speak up for the first time since he got there, and you were still wondering why he was being so shy, “Listen, is there anything we can do to help you out at all? I know moving house can be a pretty big deal so if we can help you with anything then do say.”
Your instant thought was to say that you were fine, that you’d be able to manage. You weren’t one to ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, it was difficult for you. But once you considered it for a moment, you remembered that you had a full day of classes and rehearsals tomorrow, Rose didn’t start at her new pre-school until next week and you hadn’t booked a childminder or a babysitter. You looked at the couple on your sofa, kind and eager to help, and finally opened your mouth to speak, “I have work tomorrow. Is there any chance you could look after Rose for the day?”
******************
“I promise I’ve almost got it; I just need to get the footing right after the grand jete,” you reached for your water bottle, “I’m not sure why I can’t land properly.”
“I think it’s because you’re making the chaines more aggressive than they need to be. If you take a gentler approach, then you can put more energy into how you jump and then how you land,” Samantha, the ballet mistress of the company, suggested.
You pulled your fuchsia leg warmers right up to the tops of your legs and tried again, this time taking Samantha’s advice. You landed perfectly flat on your right foot, unfolding straight away and placing your arms in fourth on impulse. You pointed your index fingers as part of your character’s variation which, as it differed from the traditional ballet hand, still took some getting used to.
The Sleeping Beauty would be your first performance since being promoted to a Soloist, and you had received the role of the Fairy of The Golden Vine, meaning you had your own solo in the prologue. You obviously wanted to do really well, you wanted to prove to both the audience and to the other dancers that you deserved the role and the position in the company, despite the little gremlin back at home who was also known as your daughter.
You absolutely adored the name you had chosen for your angel. Rose. The flower thrown onto the stage at the end of a performance which more often than not ended up in a vase on the kitchen windowsill. The colour of the leotard you rehearsed in. The rose-coloured glasses that all children wore at some point in their young lives when they were oblivious and innocent. The colour of optimism, love, joy. The word rose, in and of itself, had so many positive connotations for you, which was exactly what you had needed when you had been expecting her.
Samantha broke you free from your daydream, “Well, we have about half an hour left, is there anything else you wanted to look at before the show tomorrow night?”
It still had yet to sink in for you that the first of eight performances was tomorrow. You hadn’t given it much thought because you didn’t want it to stress you out. Especially when you had other things to worry about, like polishing your part in Act III. Which reminded you, “Could we go over the wedding scene?” you asked sheepishly.
********************
You lightly knocked on the door, looking at your phone yet again to check the address. You rubbed your hands together to fight the bitter cold of winter evenings, suddenly regretting not wearing gloves. A forget-me-not blue sky hung overhead, already getting dark even though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. The pristine door in front of you opened after a few seconds of waiting, but what you were not expecting, however, was for Dr Brian May, guitarist for Queen, arguably the best in the world, astrophysicist and animal rights activist, to answer the door with pen all over his face, “Ah, hello, you must be (Y/N).”
“Err, yeah, hi,” you nervously chuckled, a little starstruck at the man in front of you.
“Mummy?” a small, uncertain called out, soon accompanied by an awfully familiar face peeking out through the doorway to the living room.
“Hello, sweetheart,” you crouched down to be eye level with Rose, holding out your arms as an invitation for a hug.
“Mummy!” she quite literally took it with open arms and the brightest smile you had ever seen plastered on her face.
“Did you have a nice time, princess?” you asked between soft kisses pressed to her head.
This launched her into a fit of giggles and she only just managed to gasp out, “I’m not the princess, Roger’s the princess!”
You stood up with Rose sitting comfortably on your hip, “Is he now? Then who are you?” you bopped her nose with each of the last three words.
Of course, more light-hearted laughter ensued, “I’m the queen! And Brian’s the royal ad-” she stumbled on the last word and pouted, only for the man in question to whisper something in her ear and for her to shout, “Advisor! And Brian’s the royal advisor! Can I show you the kingdom?”
You set her down on the floor carefully and curtseyed like you would at the end of a show, “Lead the way, your most royal highness!” You exchanged a curious glance with Brian and followed your now running daughter into the living room.
To the ordinary person, the living room would appear to be in a state of total and utter chaos. Dining room chairs held up bedsheets, forming a makeshift tent in the centre of the room. Pillows were scattered around the fort, along with seemingly ancient colouring books, with pages the colour of buttermilk, washable pens and sweet wrappers that had yet to be picked up.
Rose dived in, luckily into Roger’s arms rather than the wooden floor. He swept her up into the air, the girl squealing with excitement, before returning her safely to the ground. “Roggie, you’re silly!” she smiled sweetly at him, making his face flood with the red of embarrassment.
“Roggie?” you laughed at his expression and sat down on the other side of Rose, sandwiching her between you and Roger. You were secretly loving how much humiliation could be brought on by a four-year-old child.
Roger looked desperate to salvage whatever was left of his dignity, “Well at least it’s not as bad as ‘Bri Bri’!”
Brian just scratched his head awkwardly and took a seat opposite you all, “I thought it was cute.”
You just chuckled at the state of them both; usually it was you who felt like that, more often than not it was when you brought Rose to work with you, so you found it rather amusing to have someone else on the receiving end of your daughter’s jokes.
Brian cleared his throat, clearly wanting to change the subject as soon as possible, “Mind if I take a picture? You guys look pretty cute in there.”
“By all means,” you agreed, knowing that you had to get a picture too. You were almost guaranteed to tell your friends about this later and they wouldn’t believe you without some kind of proof.
He pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and quickly snapped a photo of you all in your rather adorable tent. He put his glasses on to examine the image and, with a satisfied nod, leaned over to show it to you, “I’d put it on Instagram but with Rose’s age…”
“Well, I don’t have a problem with it,” you said. It was such a sweet photo, you thought it would be a shame to not share it with people, though you figured that might be the performer in you speaking. It was the nature of the job; the performing arts were, at their core, just complex forms of storytelling. You turned to Rose, deciding that she should have a say on the matter, “Darling, would you be alright if Brian put that picture of us on Instagram? A lot of people would see it,” you warned.
She just beamed up at you, “Yeah because then lots of people can see the kingdom I made with Roggie and Bri Bri!”
You just laughed at her and pulled her into a hug while Brian posted the photo onto his account. You froze when your phone vibrated mere seconds later. It’s fine. You could just play it off. Maybe a friend texted you or-
“Mummy, look, your phone lit up!” a girl with sweet and innocent intentions somehow managed to flood you with embarrassment and suddenly you felt bad for laughing at Roger and Brian earlier.
Fuck.
You looked at her with the fakest possible smile and said, “Thank you, darling.”
“Is somebody a fan, then?” Roger taunted, not helping the situation whatsoever and instead making you want to throw your phone out of the nearest window and then you along with it.
Of course you were a bloody fan, why else would you get a notification when Brian posted on Instagram? “You see, it’s a long story, I err, just got, um, a text from one of my friends about the show tomorrow?” It came out as more of a question than an answer.
Brian and Roger exchanged a knowing look before muttering to themselves that you were ‘definitely a fan’ and ‘who do you think you’re kidding’.
To hide yourself as much as humanly possible, you decided to open the app and check the post. It turned out that you weren’t the only one who had the post-notifications turned on. Other fans were already beginning to shower it with likes and comments, and you were intrigued as to what people were saying.
Who is the little girl?? She’s so cute 💖💖
Yes we stan Bri and Rog being grandads
Is it me or does she look like that dancer from the Royal?
How someone had worked out that last one, you would never know.
Brian, being the saint that he was, decided to save you from your shame, “Rose mentioned that you’re a ballet dancer,” he smiled, finally starting to clear up the mess of wrappers and pens.
“Did she now?” you asked playfully, bopping her nose much to her delight before helping Brian out.
“You any good?” Roger asked.
“Well, I’d hope so seen as it’s my job,” you joked.
Roger’s brows furrowed instantly, “Wait, it’s your job?”
You nodded, giggling slightly, “Yeah, I’ve danced professionally for about 5 years-”
“Mummy, that’s older than me!” Rose interrupted, mouth open in bewilderment.
“Yes, sweetheart, that is older than you, but remember to wait for your turn to speak, OK?” you reminded her. You’d been working on that for a little while and she was mostly getting the hang of it, although she slipped up every now and then as you’d expect from a four-year-old.
“Sorry, Mummy,” she apologised in a singsong voice.
“Thank you, my darling,” you kissed her head and pulled her in for a hug, “Anyway, I dance with the Royal Ballet down in Covent Garden. I just got promoted to a Soloist so I’m starting to get better roles than I was before.”
“So, what have you been doing today?” Brian asked, eyes bright with the same curiosity you saw in Rose from time to time.
“Well, I had my warm-up class at nine, then my technical one at eleven. I’d usually have another class or physio but we’re opening The Sleeping Beauty tonight, so I was in rehearsals for that all afternoon. Oh, and we had a final costume fitting just after lunch,” you counted them on your fingers, smiling bashfully when you were met with looks of bewilderment and awe.
“And you’ve got to do a whole performance too?” Roger asked incredulously.
“Yeah, I mean technically I should still be at the Opera House to eat my dinner but I had to come and get this little munchkin first,” you tickled Rose, her adorable giggles filling the room.
When you finally showed her mercy and ceased the tickles, she said, “I get to watch Mummy dance from the side!”
You quickly filled Roger and Brian in when they shot you looks of confusion, “She means the wings. I can’t afford to hire a babysitter for every performance I do so she gets to watch for free. Besides, she loves it, sometimes we dance together backstage when I’m not needed seen as the music’s loud enough.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Brian began warily, and you were already dreading the question that was sure to follow, “But why isn’t there anyone else to babysit her for the evening?”
Ah, the wonderful question that was asked of you nearly every time you met someone. You quickly shot him a look of not in front of Rose, and thank God he understood, for he nodded and sent you a smile as an apology. You turned Rose around so she was facing you instead of leaning against your front and said, “Darling, we have to go in a minute so why don’t you run and grab your toys, OK?”
She jumped up and ran off, hopefully to find her belongings, always oblivious and you hoped she’d stay that way for quite some time.
You took a deep breath and finally answered Brian’s question, “Rose’s father and I split up when she was two, and none of my family live in London,” you shrugged; Rose’s dad was still a bit of a touchy subject. Understanding washed over the both of them immediately, and suddenly you remembered they had both gone through the same thing.
Brian quickly changed the subject yet again, somehow sensing that you weren’t feeling all too comfortable, “Do you think we could come and watch one of your shows? We could bring Rose with us and that way you won’t have to worry about her being backstage.”
“That’s so sweet of you, thank you. I don’t think I can get you tickets for tonight but I probably can for tomorrow if that’s alright?” you smiled at his enthusiasm, especially considering you had only known him for about twenty minutes at the most. Roger didn’t seem as excited, though you were expecting that because, if you remembered correctly, he wasn’t a huge fan of musical theatre and ballet wasn’t far from that.
*********************
It was around one o’clock in the morning and even though you were yawning what felt like every ten seconds, you somehow found yourself sitting on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You knew that you should be settling down, Rose had gone to bed about an hour ago and you normally followed not long after, but you weren’t quite ready yet. With every passing minute, you would be feeling even more regret tomorrow, but it felt as though something was physically stopping you from sleeping.
“Mama?” a small, tired voice called from the doorway. You never closed your bedroom door all the way for this exact reason. Rose shyly tottered into the room, dragging her blanket on the floor behind her and hugging her stuffed dragon toy with her other arm, “Mama?”
You placed your phone on a cardboard box full of things you had yet to unpack and gestured for her to climb into your bed, “What’s up, sweetness?” she clambered into your arms and you shuffled back to lean on the wall behind you. Her cheeks were damp against your shoulder and your heart leapt into your mouth, “Hey bubba, it’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you.”
Tiny sobs escaped her mouth and you rocked her gently, patiently waiting for her to calm down. Fortunately, it was only a matter of minutes before her crying ceased. You took this opportunity to gently approach the subject of what had caused all of this, “Did you have a nightmare, darling?”
She nodded, keeping her movements and voice as small as she could, as if someone was confining every part of her, “Daddy.”
You took a breath to ground yourself because fuck you didn’t want her to have to deal with your mistakes and said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “What happened with Daddy?”
She rubbed her eye with a tiny hand and murmured, “You. Daddy. Loud.”
You tried to put the pieces together, assuming that you’d been arguing with him. This happened when she was scared, or sad, she would act like she was two instead of four, which restricted her language especially. You supposed acting younger was a comfort to her. When you’d split up with her father, you’d hoped to God that she was too young to remember any of the arguments she’d overheard. You and him had been a classic case of ‘settling down far too quickly’. Rose had been an accident and simultaneously the one to show that the both of you weren’t thinking any of it through at all. He’d walked out after the biggest fight that you’d had, and you were quite grateful for it, if you were honest.
“Me and Daddy didn’t get on very well, darling,” you explained, “You won’t ever see him again, I promise. And I won’t be loud like that, OK?” You felt her nod against your chest, and you could feel her settling down already, “Did you want to sleep in Mummy’s bed tonight?”
She perked up at your suggestion; sleeping in your bed was always a treat reserved for special occasions, and you despised the thought of making her go back to bed by herself. “Please, please, please, Mama? I like your bed, it’s soft and warm and snuggly.”
You responded by turning off your phone and the lamp on your bedside table, and tucking you both in, still cradling her against your chest like a baby. You wondered as she already began to drift off, if it had really been procrastination that had been stopping you from going to sleep earlier, or if it was just a mother’s instinct. Or if you were just thinking that to try and make yourself feel better about yourself.
**********************
Backstage was even more alive with excitement that evening. Someone had seen Brian and Roger in the foyer and word had quickly spread, though you hadn’t said a word on the subject to avoid the rush of inevitable questions. It would make the tabloid headlines by tomorrow morning; you could guarantee that.
The whirlwind rush of backstage never changed, and secretly you hoped it would always stay that way. It was absolute chaos, someone’s pointe shoes had gone soft, or someone’s lost a bit of their costume, or someone’s tights had ripped. It was strange compared to the scene of calm and serenity seen on stage; it was as if each dancer was put under a spell of some sort the moment they stepped out of the wings. While most would find the constant change of environments unnerving, you quite liked it, it kept you on your toes better than the pointe shoes on your feet.
It was a tad strange not having to chase after Rose every five seconds, tonight she was out in the audience for the first time ever. You’d never thought to take her to watch a ballet, she’d seen basically every show in the Royal’s repertoire from the wings, sometimes more enthralled by what went on behind the scenes than the dancing itself. She was forever trying to help anyone who needed it, usually it was looking over a costume or a hairstyle and pointing out anything that was out of place. It was one of the only times people were grateful for the brutal honesty that came with her youth. When she wasn’t doing that, she’d sit somewhere where she could watch the performance through the wings with a sticker book to keep her occupied during the ‘boring bits’, or she’d sleep on the sofa you’d asked Heather to put in place for exactly that reason.
You always felt guilty about making her stay awake so late, considering evening performances didn’t end until around eleven o’clock at night, meaning she wasn’t in bed until just before midnight. Luckily, it wasn’t most nights as you didn’t perform every night, and you had asked to not do as many evening performances as possible, making up for it by doing almost every matinees available. However, that didn’t stop your heart from breaking slightly every time you saw Rose yawn as a result of the lack of sleep. You just didn’t have any other options, until tonight that was. And in secret you were hoping that Brian and Roger would be able to help out again, though you’d never bring it up with them.
You shook yourself back to reality when Meaghan, the dancer in front of you, made her entrance, meaning you had to step forwards, ready for your own. The fairies had to line up in the wings and you were the last one to go on and dance your solo before the Lilac Fairy. You watched Meaghan dance, adrenaline coursing through your veins as it always would just before an entrance, and her beautifully danced solo was done in what felt like thirty seconds rather than two minutes. You took a deep breath and ran on when you heard your cue, plastering a smile on your face that was real for the most part.
You felt the music flood every corner of your mind. You didn’t even have to think about the steps you were dancing, letting muscle memory take control. You lost yourself in the beauty of the music, and in the beauty of yourself. You knew you looked like a real fairy, you sure felt like one, and you hoped that at least one child out there in the audience was watching you and thinking wow I want to be able to do that. You ran over in your head literally everything you knew about ballet, every little piece of advice you’d ever been given, something you probably should have done backstage but that didn’t matter because there you were. You were dancing on your own, all eyes on you, and you relished in the attention that you’d usually shy away from. If that is what it felt like every time you performed on your own, then fuck you were hungry for more. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat but also an eternity, and you ran over to your place further downstage.
Now you had the opportunity to pause for a moment, you took it to scan over the audience, though it was in pure vain as they were obscured by darkness. You supposed it helped dancers with stage fright, though you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d become a dancer if your stage fright was that bad. It was no longer a problem for you, but it had been helpful when you danced on that stage for the first time, especially considering you had only been a teenager when you first started performing with the Royal. You had to admit that you were trying to find Rose, Brian and Roger, knowing they were out there somewhere, watching with wonder in their eyes. You forced yourself to give up with that particular challenge; it was a rookie mistake to try to find loved ones in an audience. You just hoped they recognised you from wherever they were seated.
Elation just ran wild through your veins and you couldn’t stop the blush of pride filling your cheeks, not that you wanted to. This was the reason you danced, for the childlike joy that it brought you, the kind of glee that was the cause of each and every one of Rose’s giggles. It was pointe-shoe pink, it was ice cream on a hot day, it was a butterfly flying past you. It was ephemeral, blink and you’d miss it, but the hangover feeling of sheer bliss, that was the reason you danced.
You were hardly conventional, you knew that. A young single mother, a ballet dancer who had been promoted to a Soloist in her early twenties and living in London of all places. You were a ballet dancer, dancing to the melody of her own piano and to hell with anyone who said that you couldn’t.
#Brian May#brian may x reader#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#ballet#ballet au#modern queen#queen#queen x reader#royal ballet#the sleeping beauty#child character#brian may imagine#roger taylor imagine#queen imagine#london
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The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 3 - Penthouse Passion)
[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartz]
Rating: 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).
Warning: None
Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character
Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same way…about Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the 'God of lies' spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?
[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesn't Exist; Everyone lives]
A/N: Loki--OOPS, we mean, DAVE and Gemma get it on.
_________________________
IMPORTANT NOTES:
Bold Text = Loki's POV
Normal Text = Gemma's POV
________________________________
His touch was electric - soft yet firm, gentle and strong...the way he ran the tip of his nose along her pulse point, his warm breath and smiling mouth trailing goosebumps along her skin. If she had any resistance left in her, that touch dissipated all of it. She turned her face to his, eyes half-closed. It was almost trancelike, his gorgeous features taking up her entire field of vision.
“Oh, Dave,” she said softly, then she leaned in and kissed him. His stubble was scratchy but wonderful, and she tasted the whiskey on his tongue. She heard herself moan just a little bit at how good he felt. Red flags be damned, this was happening.
Norns, he couldn't get enough of her. His mouth all but devoured her as he intensified the kiss, pulling her to him so quickly that she landed on his lap.
He groaned as she straddled him, connecting her centre to his bulging crotch.
She was so damn warm!
His head nearly spun with arousal.
Just as his mind reminded him that he was basically ruining her, his hands reached up and cupped her luscious breasts, his mouth still possessing hers... still tasting her...
Gemma’s thighs squeezed Dave over his lap, feeling that bulge achingly straining against her. His hands were everywhere, his mouth captured hers, she was letting instinct take over as he moved with her. It felt like he was experienced, but perhaps...out of practice?
Not that she could judge...her last fling was a Tinder date almost a year ago, before she gave up on dating entirely.
“Um...I’m on the pill...” she muttered against his mouth, instantly feeling the awkward flush redden her cheeks. “So...that’s covered. Are you clean, have you been—“
The smirk he gave her quelled any other doubts she had, and he laid her down on the couch, caging her body, still running his fingers over her breasts and smiling every time she moaned or squeaked or giggled.
She watched him with wide, innocent eyes. Truth be told, she was a bit frightened, and she hoped he wouldn’t make her regret going forward with this...
Loki gazed down at her with pure want lacing all his senses. She was just so... adorable, with those doe eyes staring up at him in quiet apprehension.
It made his cock twitch with unbridled need.
"Oh Gemma," he murmured as he slipped his hands under her silly gym shirt. "You're such a sweet girl."
She squirmed under him as he rocked his arousal against her, feeling the contours of her body, splaying his hands against her breasts once again.
His lust was so intense that her bra offended him.
Quickly, he pulled his hands out and divested her of her shirt and bra, staring at her exposed flesh like a hungered beast.
Norns, it had been so damn long...
He dove straight for her bosom, lips latching onto her nipple. Not to ignore her other breast, his hand reached up to cup and squeeze it, brushing his thumb against her taut little peak.
This was Valhalla...
An ecstatic moan escaped her as he started kissing and sucking on her breasts like he was starving for them. She’d never been touched with such enthusiasm before! Were all British guys like this?! Suddenly, she wondered about visiting London someday...
That train of thought got derailed the second his fingers found their way under her skirt and inside her panties. Oh GOD she was embarrassingly wet, and everything was moving so fast. It was thrilling. It was terrifying. It felt so good.
“Oh, fuck... DAVE...” she groaned as the pleasure began to coil inside her. She rode it out white-knuckled as he toyed with her clit, and she pushed herself against him.
Now if only he would pull her hair and—
Stop it, she told herself, then she squealed as he gave her an especially good combination of a nipple suck and clit flick. Damn...he knew how to read her body like a book...
Loki froze for a moment when he heard the name ‘Dave’ upon her lips instead of ‘ Loki’.
Damn it all to Helheim!
He'd have to just... ignore it somehow. There was no way around it, no way to make her call his name without blowing his cover completely.
"Yes, my sweet girl," he said gruffly as his fingers became acquainted with her pussy, loving the hot clench of her channel when he spoke. "I want you to come on my fingers. Now.”
His eyes locked with hers as he curved his fingers upwards, touching that sweet, cushy spot inside that he knew would drive her towards her orgasm. His thumb brushed her clit in tandem, loving how her eyes lost their focus as her pussy began to flutter.
She didn’t even have a choice in the matter.
Between his voice and his fingers and his body and his face and those eyes and this penthouse and his car and..... everything that had led up to this moment throughout the day came to a head when he commanded her to come.
The orgasm hit her before she even knew what was happening. Everything snapped and released, and she shook with the waves of intense pleasure that Dave drew from her. She was almost crying; it felt so good!
Don’t start crying! He’ll stop if you cry!
So she screamed instead.
And as the pleasure tapered off into a blissful orgasmic afterglow...she realized he was unzipping her skirt. Her underwear was gone - no idea when that happened - but they were certainly not done yet.
He bent over and kissed her again, softer, happily. Then with one last quick, salacious look, he picked her naked body up and started carrying her to what she assumed was the bedroom.
It was a long walk. They kissed the whole way.
Loki placed her gently onto his bed, pulling the duvet aside as he did so. For a moment, he just admired her as she lay there, spread out on the soft cotton sheets like a gift from the Norns...
A blush slowly worked its way up her breasts, neck and face, making him want to chase it with his tongue.
He took his clothes off as he stared at her, never breaking the eye contact. He knew that she admired his body. Well, at least that he kept in its original form.
Once fully naked, he climbed into the bed and on top of her, pushing her legs apart with his thighs.
"I've not been with anyone for years," he stated truthfully as his tip breached her. "I kept myself isolated. But you... I can't resist."
With that he thrust inside her slowly, closing his eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. She was like a blazing hot furnace, and his cock was very happy to be inside her.
Her eyes rolled back as he entered her, even as her brain struggled to comprehend how Dave - the sexiest, richest, most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on - hadn’t been with anyone for years.
And he couldn’t resist her??? The world had gone crazy. Everything was upside down and sideways. And the only thing she could do was moan and indulge in the feeling of his cock inside her and his body on top of her, panting and grasping at the sheets.
She might be dreaming. She really hoped she didn’t wake up anytime soon.
“Oh, Dave...Dave, you’re amazing. Oh fuck. OH GOD, DAVE!” She clawed at his back and unthinkingly wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to thrust deeper.
He moved inside her with a slow, languorous rhythm, savouring every moment like a delicacy he had been denied for centuries.
He was a thirsty, thirsty man and she was his pure, soothing water...
Her moans of pleasure were music to his ears, and even though she took the name of his persona in her passion, he enjoyed it immensely.
"Gemma," he sighed into her neck as he kept thrusting, finding himself hooked on her alluring scent of citrus and flowers, "my sweet Gemma... yes, open up, take me deeper... good girl."
His words of encouragement seemed to drive her into a lustful frenzy, and so he used them more generously, making her moan louder and louder with each passing minute.
"Are you going to come for me again, baby girl? Are you close? I feel your pussy grasping my cock like vice, damn.. you're so tight."
He was loving this so much, the way she was responding to him. Norns, he was sure that she would let him do pretty much anything to her; she was that pliable .
Now that was a train of thought he most certainly knew he shouldn't get on, but he just couldn't help himself.
Norns... how he could train her to be his perfect, sweet little pet...
Loki, no...
Damn it...
He felt himself throb immediately, almost ready to come himself.
“Uhhhh-huuuhhh” was all she could manage to say. She was lost - completely and utterly lost - and the only things that registered in her sex-soaked brain were that place where he invaded her and the swirling sensations of pleasure that overwhelmed her.
She screamed his name as she chased her peak; she felt his pace quicken, his voice deep and rumbling, his muscles flexing between her legs...
Then she felt him release inside her, and the warm liquid pushed her into the strongest orgasm of her life. Her entire body went rigid, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except be in the moment and experience the insanely powerful pleasure that shot through her body. It felt almost inhuman...
Loki kissed her soft lips as she caught her breath, her pussy still throbbing around him rhythmically, milking his cock of every drop of his essence.
"You're so beautiful..." he sighed against her lips, nipping at them lightly. "Even more so when you come."
He felt so light in this moment, still joined with her, basking in the afterglow. Really, why hadn't he taken her before this day?
Well, he knew why, but he still rued the fact that he could've had her much earlier than today.
His body felt so good - so warm and comfortable as she swam in sexy afterglow. She knew she was going to fall asleep soon...or wake up from this dream soon. Whatever happened, it was coming to an end.
She felt a sad gratitude as she looked up at the most unlikely and wonderful lover she’d ever had...a gorgeous specimen that called her beautiful.
She’d look back on this moment and try to process it later.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and spooned her, still nuzzling her neck and giving her soft kisses as she drifted off.
She hoped - really hoped - she’d remember this dream when she woke up. And hopefully she could still look Dave in the eye the next day at work.
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[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] Ch-1; Ch-2 [NEXT CHAPTER]
#Loki fanfiction#Loki fanfic#MCU Loki#TPSL Chapter 3#TPSL#The pursuit of a simple life#My Loki fic#Loki/OFC#Loki/Original Female Character#romance#fluff#angst#idiots in love#Loki in disguise#false identity#Loki x OFC#loki x original female character#Marvel#marvel cinematic universe#post Ragnarok
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Burned Part 8
Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.
Part 8: Alfie wants to know what Louise wants the most.
Louise wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d wondered about what Alfie was like behind closed doors. Part of his nature was intimidating but she’d been blessed to know his soft side. Both had a measure of intimacy and she wondered which was dominant.
Alfie shut the door behind him and broke the kiss to set her down on the bed. He shrugged off his waistcoat, his eyes glued to her. “You don’t hafta do anything you don’t want, love.” He prefaced.
“You’d have to tie me up to stop me.” She retorted just to rile him up more. There wasn’t much doubt about her decision. It was hard to ignore the allure. The rush of telling him she loved him was just a step. She wanted to physically express love to him.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got a lot behind those innocent doe-eyes, don’t ya?” He accused.
“Most girls like me like to rebel.” She informed him coyly. “Not all of us are blushing virgins.”
“Mhm…can see that now. You’re still soft though.” He murmured and knelt at the foot of the bed. His calloused hands grazed over her bare shins, dipping under to touch her calves. “Can’t say m’not jealous that some other bloke had you ‘fore me.”
“Are you jealous?” Louise propped herself up on her elbows to watch him.
He grunted and grabbed her ankles to tug her closer. She sat up in front of him, being pliable to his will. “Maybe.” He admitted gruffly. His eyes met hers. “But m’gonna ruin all other men for you.” He gave her a devious smile. “Won’t ever have someone who can love you like I can.”
His confidence shot electric anticipation right to her toes. “Is that so?” She wrapped her arms around him. “What if I don’t want any other man?”
“Then you’ve come to the right fucking place, haven’t you?” He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her.
It was as if Alfie’s romantic side was his true center, even if it had been neglected for the majority of his life. He stood perfectly evenly on the line of compassion and the need for power. His lips moved around hers softer than anyone else’s but he commanded the kiss. Louise wasn’t arguing she had a feeling he knew exactly what she needed. And if she needed to tell him, he’d listen. He craved power and the control over her pleasure was something intoxicating to him.
Louise drew away, pressing her forehead to his. “You won’t want another woman after tonight.” She told him. Her voice was teasing but there was a root of serious intention. She wanted Alfie all to herself and she prayed he wasn’t like other men or even other women. The modern lover who thought it fun to hop from bed to bed. Too self-consumed to care about deep feelings.
He exhaled sharply and reached up to run his fingers through her soft curls. He realized he had never exactly ‘made love’. Sure he’d fucked his way through France and London, what sinful bachelor didn’t? But never had he gone to bed with a woman he loved. He couldn’t even imagine doing anything else from that point on. Louise was sacred and to unravel her was a gift from heaven. The idea that he would have the potential to do that more than once in his lifetime was indescribable. “Won’t even think ‘bout another woman. You’re the only one on my mind from now on, yeah?”
Her heart raced giddily. “I’m yours then.”
That was enough to stroke Alfie’s ego and get him kicked into high gear. He rocked back on his heels. “Go ahead, love, take that little thing off for me. Want to see all of ya.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. Louise scooted back on the bed, lifting up to her knees. She held his lustful gaze as she slipped the nightgown over her head and tossed it to him.
“Fucking hell…” Alfie drawled out and rose to his feet. He couldn’t take his eyes off her bare body. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed hard.
Louise sheepishly sat back on her heels, not sure what he was thinking. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless, Alfie.”
He laughed absent-mindedly and held out a hand to her. “Fucking seen beautiful things ‘fore.” Louise took his hand and stood up on the bed. He took her hips in his hands, holding her steady on the mattress. “Jewels, works of art, stacks 'n stacks of money,” He shook his head, his blue eyes scanning over every inch of her. “But you…” He subconsciously swiped his tongue over his lower lip. “Fucking gorgeous.” His usual verbose manner of speaking was lost.
“So you’re just going to stare at me all night?” She murmured and brushed her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.
“Oh, Lou,” He chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve no fucking idea.” His fingers dug into her hips and desire bloomed in his eyes. “Lay down.”
Louise lay back on the bed after he let go of her hips. “Is it my turn to see you, then?” She asked hopefully when she saw him slip his suspenders off his shoulders.
“Not quite, gotta take care of you first, yeah?” He got up on the bed and dipped down to pepper kisses down her neck. He rested on his forearms so he didn’t put too much pressure on her. Louise wanted to feel all of him against her but decided to get used to the intimate relationship first.
He left bruising marks on her neck, eliciting soft gasps of need from her lips. After placing at least four darkening marks on her throat and collarbone, he pulled away to admire his work. His thumb gently smoothed over the skin making her whimper.
“Gotta make sure the world knows you’re mine.” He murmured possessively.
It made Louise melt into the mattress. “Alfie…”
His jaw clenched. He needed to hear his name slipping off her tongue. It was making him drunk and he wouldn’t stop until the letters were etched permanently into her soul. “I’ve gotcha, love.” He purred and lowered his focus to her chest, toying with her breasts. Every reaction he got out of her was like a shot of adrenaline straight into his heart. The way she squirmed under him, begging softly for more, speaking his name like he was a deity to be praised. It was only a wonder how far he could push her, what type of reaction he could draw out from the deepest part of her. It made him unbearably greedy.
He dipped lower, laving his tongue over the dips in her abdomen and hips, his beard tickling over her soft skin. Louise’s face burned as he passed over her hips and buried his face between her thighs. Never before had a man taken his time with her. Her past flings had always used her for their own pleasure. And although she got flashes of thrill from the experience, it was nothing like being under Alfie. She wasn’t sure how he knew exactly what to do to get her right to the edge. He was confident with the attention he gave her body.
So confident, that it wasn’t long before he made Louise into a quivering mess. Her fingers knotted into his hair and he had to press an arm over her hips to keep her from bucking. Her head threw back in the pillow, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He only let up for a second, earning a whine of disapproval.
“Look at me.” He commanded in a deep voice. “I want your eyes on me.”
Her entire body trembled as he held her gaze. Her breathing became labored and her knees kept turning in, too overwhelmed. Alfie didn’t even want to blink and miss a millisecond. They were both utterly mesmerized by each other.
Then it happened. Like a divine miracle, Louise came undone. Her body locked up and she gasped out his name. “Alfie!”
He groaned and raised himself back up. He kissed ravenously at her neck while she came down from her high. "Gorgeous...look at you."
She moaned softly as he nipped at her collarbone, her arms lazily wrapped around him. “All that and you’ve barely even taken your socks off.” She laughed breathily.
He chuckled against her skin. “Had to warm you up, didn’t I?” He lovingly pushed away a few curls that had stuck to her flushed face.
“I think I’m well past that.” She touched his cheek. They fell into a hushed moment. Her eyes drawing him in and making his chest hurt with the amount of adoration he had for her. “Alfie,” The words came out in a longing whisper. “Please take me.”
The man pushed up and stood to hurriedly undress. A strange sensation settled in his stomach. Carnal desires bubbled inside of him, wanting to just bend Louise over and fuck her senseless. But it didn’t feel right; it wasn’t what she deserved at least not their first time together.
“Alfie?”
“Hm?” He glanced up at her as he stepped out of his pants.
“How do you want me?” She had sat up, tucking her knees against her bare chest. Her eyes grazed over his form while she chewed at her lower lip. It was a strange question, to say the least. She half expected Alfie to tell her but he hadn’t. She could recall times spent with Daniel, nights where he barely even looked at her. It was as if he were pretending she was someone else.
“Uh…” He walked back over to the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. “On your back, yeah, want to see that face of yours.” He tugged off his boxers and climbed back over her. It was likely he didn’t realize how much that meant to Louise. She smiled and pulled him into a kiss. One hand braced against the bed, the other aligning himself with her. Her hands clutched at his back as he slowly pressed into her.
“Okay?” He asked quietly against her lips.
She nodded. “Yes…Alfie, please…”
“Talk to me, Lou, tell me what you need.” He growled as they adjusted to one another. "Can't give it to you until you tell me."
“Need you, please Alfie, please.”
Begging, he had her begging. If Alfred Solomons wasn’t cocky enough already, he could never come back after that night. “Can’t hear you, love, yeah gotta speak up.” He toyed.
“Alfie, c’mon, please don't tease me.” She looked positively desperate under him. Her big brown eyes yearning. “Alfie-” She cried out when he thrust forward without warning. “Fuck!”
He smirked deviously. The word never sounded so sinful before and it unlocked more to her. “Fucking hell, woman, you’re going to be the death of me. Won’t be able to get enough of you.”
“Just wait.” She panted, moaning against his shoulder. “By the end of every week-oh, God-you’ll be-fuck-begging for a break from me.”
Surely Alfie didn’t deserve to enter heaven on Earth, but it appeared it was already through the gates. “I fucking love you, Lou.” He crushed his lips to hers, finding the rhythm that worked them both up.
He could sense when she was close. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and she became louder. His neighbors wouldn’t be pleased but to hell with them, he wanted to hear her in that state. He grabbed her chin so she couldn’t look away from him.
“Alfie…yes…Alfie…almost, almost…Alfie!”
Her sharp cry was enough for him to hit his climax. “Fuck!” He grunted and collapsed against her. “Lou…I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven, I have.” He slurred into the crook of her neck.
She laughed faintly and clung tightly to him. “I might’ve too.” The waves of pleasure ebbed but the feeling of intimacy remained as he stayed in her embrace. Neither wanted to move a muscle, only to stay in that moment for as long as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~
To Louise, Alfie was a work of art. He didn’t represent the ideals of antiquity’s grace, but she didn’t care. Nothing in the world could be flawless. The mesmerizing bit about him was finding the softness hidden behind layers and layers of steel armor. The parts he hid from the world to conceal any possible weakness. To the rest of Britain, he was a calculating, potentially mad man who was indifferent about killing a man with his bare hands. But there was so much more. He was still brutally clever, his ambitions focused on power, and perhaps he was desensitized to gore, but he was still just a man. He'd shown her that well enough the night before.
Alfie had a hold on her even if he didn’t intend to.
“Got your head in the clouds? Lost ya there for a bit.”
Louise blinked a few times and smiled. She took in the form beside her in bed. He laid on his back, one arm wrapped around her, the other casually placed behind his head. No, he wasn’t a chiseled marble statue, spotless and divine. He was riddled with all sorts of scars of various sizes and different stages of healing. Several tattoos covered his chest, arms, and shoulders. Most were symbols and designs she didn’t recognize the meaning of. Thin black lines etched into his skin, just as permanent as the scars. She wanted to be just as permanent on him.
He was built well, probably not as fit as he had been when he was younger and in the army. But his muscles were defined, his strong shoulders something to admire. It was strange seeing him without his usual armor. He was just an average man, but he made himself appear so dangerous. It lent to the idea that Alfie's strength came from within. Something inside gave him the ability to bring a man to his knees without skipping a beat. He was a complex man, maybe no one could decode him entirely.
Louise traced a few scars and birthmarks up his chest, pausing to outline the tattoos with the pad of her finger. Alfie watched with curious eyes but didn’t dare interrupt her focus. The spine-tingling touch was heavenly for him. Normally, he was so accustomed to rough exchanges. Business handshakes, Tommy Shelby’s was bone-crushing, a good fight, or attempted murder. Now Louise was making him yearn for more of her gentle touches rather than the adrenaline pumping violence.
She paused at a few scars, taking in the pale white or pink skin that marked him. There was no telling whether or not they were acquired during the war or in Camden town. Maybe even he lost track.
Finally, Louise smoothed her fingers over each of Alfie’s cheeks. She was so familiar with his beard now and came to adore the bristly texture of it against her skin. But she was curious. “Have you ever thought about shaving?” She cocked her head to the side.
His brow furrowed but he appeared amused. “Thought you liked my beard.”
“No, I do!” She shook her head. “I think you’re handsome, you know that.” That produced a cocky smile from him. “But I’m trying to picture what you look like without it.” Her fingernails lightly scratched over his cheekbones.
“Been like this since I came back from France.” He told her, resting his hands over her wrists so she wouldn’t stop. “Trust me, wouldn’t want to see me without it. Look like a monster with that fucking scar.”
She frowned. “I’m sure that’s not true.” There was a good chance she would fight anyone who attempted to bad mouth Alfie, even Alfie himself.
“Mhm." He didn't want to argue the fact. She didn't see him sitting in front of the mirror, disturbed at his own reflection. The stitches from his ear to the side of his chin. The ghastly scar that remained. Better she never saw. "Tell you what, I’ll dig up my military papers. Get to see me clean-shaven.” He bargained just so she wouldn’t even bring up the idea of him shaving.
Louise gave him a sly glance. “A clean-shaven Captain Solomons in his uniform, lucky me.”
His stomach tightened. Her angelic voice calling him by his rank only conjured utterly sinful imagery. He was so blessed that she seemed just as insatiable as he was.
“I’m sure all the nurses were all fawning over you.” She concentrated on drawing small looping shapes over his cheeks and jaw with the pad of her finger.
Alfie was surprised to see a hint of jealousy from her. He thought he was the only inherently envious one between them. “Paid them no mind. I was waiting, yeah, for someone better to come along, weren’t I?”
A smile hinted at her pink lips. “A spoiled girl from Surrey?”
“A beautiful woman who is truly the fucking best woman I’ve ever met.”
“Alfie…” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“Woman who deserves the fucking world, don’t she?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
His blue eyes fixed on her while he grabbed her hips so she was straddling his waist. “What do you want most in life? Anything, s’yours by tomorrow, promise.”
She giggled and shook her head. “I don’t want anything.” Her palms rested on his bare chest.
“What ‘bout a house?" He didn't believe that she didn't want anything. She was a woman, he assumed they all wanted something nice. He certainly liked some fancy things. "A manor out in the countryside? Hundred servants for you, yeah, won’t have to do anything ever again.”
“I like my flat in London and I don’t mind taking care of myself.” She shook her head firmly with a bemused smile. "Don't want to spend my days in an empty home like that."
But he wasn’t finished, wanting to find her wish. “Horses? You rode horses, dinnit ya? What ‘bout a stable full of any horse you want?”
“I did ride horses but I don’t need one because I can walk to work.” She tilted her head to the side, looking down at him.
“Jewels? Get you the finest jewels this world has seen. I’ve got the best connections out in Paris…”
“Alfie.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I only want you and Cyril.” She said adoringly. “You make me so happy and that’s all I need from here on out."
When she moved her finger, he lifted his hand. “See this?” He showed her a tattoo of a crown between his index finger and thumb.
“Yes?”
“Means I’m a king, love.” He murmured and stroked a hand through her hair.
“Are you?” She smirked. “Does Buckingham Palace know you’ve taken the throne?” She teased.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Different kinda king. But it means I can spoil who I want, yeah?”
“Hm…well I hope you find the woman who wants to be spoiled with jewels. Because all I need is a roof over my head, something to wear, place to work, and a handsome man to love me.” She bent down to kiss his forehead.
He smiled slightly. “Fine, then I’ll just have to guess what you want. ‘Cause I am going to fucking spoil you, yeah? You’ll just be surprised.”
She sighed. “I guess I can’t stop you…”
“Mhm, gonna start with a whole closet full of lingerie. Something of every color.” He gave her a wicked smile.
She bit back a smirk and stuck her tongue out at him. “Do you men only think about sex?” She teased.
He didn’t respond, instead, he tugged her back down to kiss her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alfie wasn’t sure what he liked better, Louise in an evening gown, a nightgown, trousers, or nothing at all. Most likely, she could wear anything and he’d still feel weak. Like other men, he was trying to get accustomed to the growing trend of women’s trousers. But when he saw her in baggy khaki pants rolled up to her shins and wearing one of his white button-down shirts, he nearly crumbled.
She was reading in the sunroom, curled up in an armchair. Her hair was loose and natural instead of in curls. Her bare feet dangled over the cushioned arm of the chair, lazily swinging as she read. Cyril lay near her, his sad eyes looking up at her every so often. Her hand would slip off the book to idly scratch behind his ears. She bore the look of domestic bliss, something Alfie never had the pleasure to indulge in.
Her hazel eyes looked up over the blue covered book when she noticed his presence in the doorway. “Everything going okay in London?”
Alfie had nearly forgotten about the phone call he just had with Ollie. “Eh? Oh, yeah, yeah, nothing’s wrong.”
Cyril lifted himself up and padded over to his master. The dog was enjoying the cottage and especially the beach. It was probably the longest period of time Alfie had been consistently peaceful. There were a few possible remedies. The ocean, the quiet, being out of the bakery, and Louise.
“See? What did I tell you? Everything would be perfectly fine. You’re allowed to take a break every so often.” Louise straightened up and marked her page before setting the book down.
“Well, when you’re right, you’re right.” He heavily sat down on one of the nearby couches. He stroked Cyril’s ears when the bullmastiff leaned against his legs.
She gasped in feigned shock, pressing a hand to her heart. “My Alfie is admitting he was wrong about something? Call the Daily Mail!”
He chuckled and shook his head. “One man can’t be right ‘bout everything, now can he?”
“My mother used to say there was only one thing keeping men from sending the world straight into chaos.” She gave him a sly look and sat on her heels.
“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What would that be?”
“A patient woman.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin and shrugged. “You think? I dunno.”
Louise rolled her eyes because she knew he was just trying to pull her leg. She stood and flipped her hair. “Well if you don’t know then you won’t ever know.” She replied and went to pass by him.
“C’mere you.” Alfie grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap making her giggle softly. He set his hands firmly on her hips as he held her gaze. “Me mum, yeah, she would grab me by the ear.” He playfully tweaked Louise’s earlobe. “After I’d gotten in trouble with coppers. Then she’d say I weren’t ever gonna find a respectable woman. Always asked me what I wanted.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek.
“What did you want?” Louise wondered. She slipped her hands under his shirt to rest on his shoulders, smoothing her thumb over the knots in his muscles.
He groaned in appreciation and closed his eyes for a moment. “To be fucking honest, I didn’t know. All I knew was what I knew, yeah? Knew that people looked down on me. Just a petty criminal, a poor Jew, all rough ‘round the edges. Was nothing but a little pest. But what if I could show ‘em? Show London that I were a force to be reckoned with?” His blue eyes opened again and he stared at the ceiling. “Make ‘em think twice ‘bout what they said.” His voice faded into something grim. His jaw tensed and he let out a sigh.
“You wanted them to know you by name.” Louise realized.
He raised an eyebrow and his eyes flicked to her.
She explained herself. “Alfie Solomons. You wanted people to hear that name and react. You didn’t want to be another nameless face being shoved to the side.”
His mustache twitched with a hint of a smile. “Perhaps.” He murmured coyly. “Did I good job of that, didn’t I?”
“I would say so.” Louise stilled her hands and studied his face. “So, now what do you want?”
“Eh?”
“You’ve made something of your name.” She wouldn’t comment on the ambiguity of what that something was. “So now what?”
“Well, keep working. S’all I can do.” He shrugged and closed his eyes again. “London ain’t going anywhere any time soon so neither am I.” His voice quieted to a whisper as he relaxed back.
Louise watched him rest. Despite the break, there was always a hint of exhaustion under his eyes. He was thirty-six but had aged from experience alone. The things he’d witnessed stuck to him. Things he couldn’t control like the scars digging into his skin. And things he chose like the inflicted tattoos. It was a wonder if men like Alfie stepped back and evaluated their course of action. If they were falling through an abyss, doing things they never thought they’d do, eventually changing the world around them. Were they destructive or misled?
She kissed his forehead and he mumbled softly, reaching up to touch the nape of her neck.
Was it so wrong to try and become what Alfie was becoming? Was he any different from kings and emperors? Men who killed for power?
She swallowed and closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He felt so safe. The image of Alfie Solomons, the image others saw was fading away. It was nothing but a façade to her. She’d never been on the sharp edge of that sword and never anticipated to.
He enveloped her in his arms, his lips finding her temple and kissing her skin tenderly.
It was inevitable. The further she fell for him, the further engrossed in him she became. The jewel of Alfie’s affection. Sometimes a queen didn’t see the actions of her king. Yet she was a queen, nonetheless.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Alfie could you-” Louise paused as she entered through the open door. A young man stood at Alfie’s desk. They both glanced at her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” She stepped back.
They’d returned to London after the weekend. Alfie grumbled and complained but there was work to be done. Louise assured him there would be more trips to Margate in the future. Just to confirm this, Alfie bought the cottage they’d rented. But he didn’t disclose that to her. He’d find another time to surprise her. It was nice to have as a backup plan. It gave some light to London’s smoke and gloom.
“No, no, s’alright.” Alfie waved Louise into the office. “This is one of my lads. Nicholas, this is me secretary, Louise Barnes.”
“Nice to meet you, Nicholas.” She smiled politely and went to set a few papers down in front of Alfie. She didn’t mind coming back to London as much as Alfie did. Of course, it would be nice to stay on the ocean, she was content wherever he was. She was also happy that the trip had eased some of his aches and worries.
“Pleasure, Miss Barnes.” The tall man replied with a tip of his hat.
“Everything alright?” Louise sensed something was amiss. Alfie looked deep in thought with his hand over his mouth and his eyes fixed on the cabinet across the room.
“Grace Shelby was killed last night.” He answered her honestly.
It was an icy shock. Louise had never met Tommy’s wife, they’d only been recently married. But there was talk about her work with the Shelby foundation She was also aware of the son Tommy had with her. “Killed? How?” She was stunned.
“A bullet meant for her husband.” He ran his fingers over his beard while staring into space.
Louise inhaled shakily. “We should go pay our respects to the family, especially Tommy.”
“More pressing matters right now.” Alfie blinked a few times, snapping out of his daze.
“What do you mean?” Louise looked over at Nicholas realizing he probably brought the bad news. “What pressing matters?”
“Were the Italians. Messy ‘tween ‘em ‘n the Blinders.” Nicholas told her in a thick accent. “Things been escalatin’.”
“Sabini?”
“No.” Alfie cracked his knuckles, still sounding detached and too engrossed in his own mind. “The Changrettas.”
The name wasn’t familiar to Louise and she thought she had a good handle on the people she needed to know. “Are they in London?”
“The son is in New York. Runnin’ gin. Could be big as Capone, they say. Works for the Spinietta family too.”
“But Vincente and Angel live here,” Alfie said shaking his head. “And they fucking dug their own graves when their assassin missed the mark. Satan himself couldn’t kill that gypsy, they wasted their time trying to.”
“Tommy is going to try to retaliate.” Louise followed the logic. The Peaky Blinders, like other firms, never let go of a grudge until they had the final say. Usually, that created a back and forth that didn’t seem to have an end. There was always someone with a pistol looking for revenge.
“Angel Changretta’s already dead. Fuckin’ throat slit.” Nicholas told her in a grim voice. He wasn’t sure a woman, no less a secretary should hear such things. But Alfie didn’t stop him from telling her.
“But that’s their business.” She said with shaky assurance. “It won’t bother us, right?” There was no response. “Alfie?”
“Nick, you can go.” The gangster stood up to see his informant out. He didn’t bother to answer Louise’s question.
The silence gave her anxiety and she wasn’t sure what was happening. “Alfie, you’re scaring me.”
He shut the door and pulled the blinds so the rest of the bakery couldn’t see into his office.
“Al-”
He held up a hand to hush her. “Listen very carefully, yeah, because this innit a game.” He stopped in front of her, his blue eyes hard on her face. “We go on, keep working, right?”
“Then why are you so worried?”
“Who said I was fucking worried?” He retorted sharply. “I’m not…” He grimaced and huffed out a breath. His eyes looked over her shoulder. “When a war starts, everyone looks for allies. They’re gonna look to me, yeah?”
“You can’t get involved in this,” Louise whispered and touched his cheek. “Alfie, this is none of your business. What Tommy wants to do, he’ll do. But you don’t need any part of this.”
Alfie refused to look at her. “They’ll involve me whether I fucking like it or not. S’not how the game is played, Lou.”
“This isn’t a game…”
“We’ll just have to wait to see what Tommy does next.” He tried pulling away from Louise.
“Alfie…”
“You can go back to work, s’all I had to tell you.” He nodded curtly and went to lift the blinds.
She stared at him for a moment, frozen in place. “What are you willing to risk, Alfie? For something you have no stake in?”
“You can go, Louise.” He sat back down and pointed to the door. “I have a meeting soon.”
The woman swallowed and contemplated putting up a fight. But she didn’t want to make things worse. They would handle it later. She had to go about this the only way she knew how.
Tag list: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel
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My Girl Series: Chapter 6 - This Time
…in which Y/N needs a wedding date, and this time Harry’s not giving up.
Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.
AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)
Chapter 5: Somebody Else - Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, and no one else.
A little happy gift from sad Allie 😂 You’re welcome.
wattpad link
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It had been two weeks since the last time Y/N saw Harry.
Like a ghost, he disappeared into thin air without a single clue only to reappear on a sunny Thursday afternoon via a simple text, saying he was waiting for her outside her flat and that it was an emergency. When she received that message, Y/N was in the library and had to drop everything at once to rush back home for him.
It was not until she had run up five floors and saw him standing outside her door with the brightest smile on his face, intact, that she realized she had been worried all for nothing.
"Hey, Bam—Ouch!" He jumped away, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where she'd just hit him, mouth agape. "What was that for?"
"'Come home quick. Emergency'? Emergency my ass! I was shit-scared when I read your text."
"This is an emergency." He bent down and picked up the paper bag at his feet. "I bought you ice cream and it's melting."
"Ice cream?" She dropped her jaw, hands on her hips. "I thought something bad had happened to you, H!"
"You thought I was in trouble and came home right away?"
Y/N rolled her eyes in response to that idiotically gorgeous smile of his, yet she decided not to answer that question.
"What's the occasion?" She asked, eyes fixed on the paper bag full of snacks he was carrying. She didn't understand why he looked so shocked as if she was supposed to know the answer already.
Wait, am I supposed to?
It took the girl a moment to remember the date, and when she had, she felt like the shittiest person alive.
It was her mother's birthday.
When they were little, Harry had always helped her prepare a small birthday party for her mother each year. They would make cupcakes and birthday cards together. Now that her mother was gone, he knew it was meaningless to come over with ice-cream for her and flowers for her mum since there was nothing left to celebrate. But he felt like he should, hoping his presence would count for something.
"I can't believe I forgot mum's birthday," she groaned into her palms, mentally cursing herself for being so thoughtless. But he knew it wasn't her fault, she didn't mean to forget. A lot of things had happened in her life recently, starting from her dad's engagement, to her struggles with her unfinished first novel, her unpaid rents, and then of course...him.
Harry was just about to say something when the girl lifted her face up, eyes squinted at him. "How did you..."
"Your dad told me you always visited her on her birthday..."
"My dad? Are you best friends with him now?"
"No, I just—"
"Don't." She raised a finger so he wouldn't continue, and he was waiting for her to tell him to leave. To his surprise, she didn't this time. She just took a long pause and asked him if he could give her a ride to the train station, so she could catch the next train back to Cheshire.
Y/N assumed a famous actor like Harry didn't have much free time to spare, and she really had to think twice before asking him for such a favor. After all, he had his own busy life, he wasn't her personal chauffeur.
The last thing she would expect to hear from him was, "I'll drive you back to Cheshire."
"What?" She raised an eyebrow at the man and he supposed she thought he was only kidding. He definitely wasn't. "It's a four-hour drive, H."
"Then we should leave now." He pressed his lips into a small smile, and her heart suddenly forgot how to beat.
She didn't know why he was doing all of that for her. She just asked for a small favor which he could have easily declined, still, he volunteered to drive nearly 200 miles so she could visit her mother's grave. She honestly didn't get it but she didn't want to ask him why.
"Thank you so much," she said. "I owe you this once."
"Wait, but..."
"But what?" Y/N had already climbed down a couple stairs when she stopped to look back at him.
"We should put the melting ice cream in the fridge." He nodded towards the door, making her smile.
It was actually the first smile he'd received from his Bambi after two weeks away from her and Harry couldn't put into words how glad he was to see it again. He knew they still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had a whole four hours in the car to worry about that. Right now, he let himself be happy.
.
.
.
The drive was long but neither of them was tired. Harry and Y/N blasted music in their car while driving away from the big city, singing songs they didn't know all the words to at the top of their lungs with the windows down and wind in their hair. Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this free. He didn't have to worry about all the responsibilities waiting for him in London, nor think about how his manager would react when he found out Harry had rescheduled another interview for personal reasons. At that moment, in his car driving down the empty country road, it was just him and her and no one else.
When the music had become louder than their own voices, Harry stole a quick glance at the girl sitting by his side. She was too distracted by the beautiful sunset to continue singing or even catch his eyes on her.
"Watch out!"
Harry steered the wheel just in time to dodge the massive hole on the road. The car bounced ahead pretty hard, causing him to grip onto the wheels and her to scream out loud. Fortunately, both were safe as was the car but his heart was still beating out of control. When he turned to give her an apologetic grin, she smacked him right on the arm, telling him to be careful or else they would be dead before they even reached the graveyard. That threat really had the 24-year-old rooted to his seat. Maybe from now on, he should keep his eyes on the road instead of her.
When they arrived at Graceland Cemetery in Holmes Chapel, the sky was already pitch dark. Under the pale moonlight, the iron front gate looked exactly like one of those gateways to hell in the horror films she was obsessed with but he loathed deeply. He walked closer to her, one arm hugging the bouquet of lilies to his chest, the other gripping onto her arm as they passed many headstones laying all out of order on the muddy ground. It took them five minutes or so to get to where Y/N's mother was laid.
The girl kneeled down on the sew grass without minding the soil would ruin her beautiful white dress. She burnt three jasmine scented candles on the ground after laying the lilies down by her mother's grave.
"Happy birthday, mum," she mumbled, smiling at the grey stone with her mother's name on it. "I love and miss you very much, and I'm so sorry that I'm late today."
Watching her from the side made Harry feel like he was intruding the special mother-daughter moment and he intended to walk away. But all it took was one sound of his name from her lips and Harry's feet immediately grew roots into the ground.
"Harry is with me. He drove me all the way here from London so I could see you." With a faint smile, she turned to him. "Don't worry. He takes very good care of me."
The green-eyed man could hear his heartbeats echoing in his ear as all the hair on his arms stood to attention. He didn't know whether it was because of the cool April breezes blowing through his thin jacket, or the fact that they were in the middle of a graveyard, or the lovely hue in her sparkling eyes as they were gazing at him. What he did knew was in that very moment she might also feel the same, maybe a little if not entirely. And that was all it mattered.
.
.
.
"Since we're already here, do you wanna stop by to say hello to Anne?"
"My mum's on vacation actually. There's nobody home," Harry said as he made his way to Y/N, standing with his back against the car like she was as they both looked up at the magnificent view above their heads, a sky full of stars.
The sight was almost surreal, like the whole world had been covered in black velvet with little diamonds strung up as decorations. For too long Harry had been living in the big city where all the best views were hidden behind skyscrapers, and the busy lives on the ground didn't allow him to look up, not even once. Now in an open field with just them two and the sound of crickets chirping in fading moonlight, he could finally feel alive.
"You don't get to see this in London, right?" She said as both of them turned to look at each other at the same time.
"I think I've missed out on a lot of things since I left this town," he said, almost as a soft whisper for only them to hear. The stars were mirrored in her crystal clear eyes like little shiny specks of magic dust. The sight of it reminded him of the lake behind his high school on a summer night, when it looked like the water had captured the moon and all the stars. To him, Y/N was no different from that summer late. She carried the entire universe in those eyes.
"Harry," her voice, with the help of a cold breeze, soon dragged him back to reality. She was still looking at him and her expression was unreadable as she questioned, "have you ever considered talking Anne into selling that house?"
"No. She loves that place too much," he said. "Gemma and I don't wanna sell it either."
There was a pause.
"Thank you," she finally said, giving him another smile and looking up again.
Harry knew she meant to ask about their treehouse. She wanted to know if he'd ever thought about selling away one of the few things that were proof of what they used to have. Then she thanked him because he hadn't. Somewhere deep inside he felt joy because now he knew she still looked back to those days to the kids they once were. Maybe the part of him inside of her had never really faded away.
"Do you wanna stop by our treehouse?" He asked all of a sudden and he could tell from her reaction that she was taken aback.
"No, thanks." Y/N shook her head. "I might run into those two."
"Your dad and Marcy."
She confirmed with a sigh, puckering up her lips.
"I got their wedding invitation last week," he said, smiling at her but she was far from happy to hear that.
"I did too, but it's now in the bin." She shrugged, eyes on the stars whereas he was still staring at her. "I'm not going to their wedding."
"Why?"
"Because that would make me feel like I'm betraying my mother."
"But that's your dad. He really wants you to show up."
"So? He's a shit dad anyway."
Harry knew it wasn't his business when he received that stubborn eye-roll from her. He understood that she had every single right to hate that man for all he had done to her and her mother. But Harry cared about Y/N too much to let her keep tormenting herself and her father this way.
"Look, kid, I know he's shit at being a dad but...at least...he's still trying to be one."
That sentence made Y/N turn her head to face him once again. It had been too long, yet she could still remember the photo he had kept in his bedroom. The only photo of the man she had never seen before.
When nine-year-old Y/N asked him who it was, thirteen-year-old Harry hesitated for a little while before telling her it was his father. Before then she had assumed that every dad had to either live with their children, or come visit them once in a while like Celine’s dad. But from Harry's story, she learned that not every father wanted to be close to their kids and watch them grow. Harry's father had left his family since Harry was still too young to remember. Just like Y/N, he had never met the man. His mother had thrown away everything that belonged to his father, except for that one photo the little boy found in the attic and decided to keep as a secret. He had never shown it to anyone but the little girl next door.
Eyes still on her, Harry took a deep breath and squeezed the hand she put on her knee. "You don't have to forgive everything he's done but please don't cut him off for good. At least show up at his wedding."
"I can't do it alone." She shook her head fast and lowered it so she could stare at her feet instead of him. "I couldn't even have dinner with them alone..."
"Then I'll go with you. Sounds good?" He titled his head to read her face, squeezing the girl's hand a little bit tighter to remind her that he was there for her.
And after a moment of thinking, she finally answered, "I'll think about it and...let you know."
.
.
.
It was nearly 8PM when Harry and Y/N got back into their car to head back to London. The drive home was rather silent since both of them had been exhausted and it was getting late. They put on some slow songs and drove through the night with eyes kept away from each other. The scent of candle wax mixed with fresh soil still remained on her clothes. It smelt rather delicate, reminding him of a garden full of jasmines, and he loved it just as much as he knew she did.
"Where have you been?" She finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them both.
"Where have I been?"
"In the last two weeks. What? You have a tendency of ghosting on the people in your life once in a while?"
The people in his life, he knew she meant her and Isaac. He couldn't straight off tell her that he'd only been avoiding them while keeping contact with everyone else in his life. She wouldn't understand and hate him as much as she had before.
So he told her he'd been busy getting ready for a new role for a movie which started shooting in the summer. It was also the truth, well, half of it. He'd left out the part about him trying to figure out what he wanted and what he was willing to give up in order to be happy. By the end, he'd realized that he missed her too much to be able to stay away from her life and still feel joy at the same time. He'd done it before, living six years without knowing where or how she was. But now that she had come back, he must admit that it was a struggle trying not to think about her every second of the day.
"Don't worry. I won't disappear like that again," he said.
She didn't reply and he didn't hope that she would believe him. He could always show her that he was sincere.
Harry parked his car outside her building and they both got out at the same time. He was slightly disappointed because he wanted to open the car door for her like they did in those romantic films. But then again he remembered, his Bambi was never one of those cliché leading girls.
Before he could open his mouth to say goodnight and goodbye, Y/N pulled him into a sudden hug and thanked him for everything he'd done for her that day.
"Do you want to come in?" She asked, to his surprise. "There's ice cream in the fridge."
Her offer made him smile.
"I would love to," he said and for sure meant it. "But I can't. I've got dinner with Niall."
"Dinner at midnight?"
"That restaurant opens until 3AM." He shrugged, checking his watch. "But...I'm kind of an hour late now."
"Oh, okay. See you another time then?"
"Sure." He stroked her tangled hair and pressed his lips to her forehead as he wished her goodnight. When they parted, he felt strangely incomplete even though she wasn't even out of sight. Harry now began to think he had turned into one of those clingy high school boys who couldn't stop missing his secret crush, and the fact that he had just implied that she was his secret crush was already too embarrassing. He had no control of whatever going on inside his brain anymore, and he felt like it should be a bad thing.
"What are you doing next Friday night?" He shouted out the question, making the girl turn around just as she reached the glass doors.
"Uh...Probably studying for my finals. Why?"
"You stay at home and study on your birthday?" The amusement in that question of his had her eyes widened and her jaw fell open. That was when the man realized she had not only forgotten her mother's birthday, but also her own.
"Right." She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "Now that I remember. I do have plans on that night."
"Oh...With Isaac?"
"Yeah." She nodded.
Even though he had already seen it coming and received that apologetic look from her, Harry still felt like crap. He told her it was no big deal as he got back into his car and started the engine. They waved at each other one last time before he departed. This time, the girl stayed exactly where she was, watching his car until it blended into the moving traffic on the busy avenue.
.
.
.
"Sorry, I'm late!"
"Aren't you always?"
Niall blew up his cheeks as he closed the menu in his hand, dark blue eyes narrowed at Harry, who was still trying to catch his breath as he told the waiter to get him whatever his friend had already ordered.
"And two glasses of Cheval Blanc 2010," he quickly added, with a smile.
"We only sell that by the bottle, sir."
"Bring me a bottle then."
"Wait." Niall held up a hand just as the waiter turned away. "He'll have a glass of water."
"A glass of water?" The actor snorted.
Niall Horan was the least serious person he'd ever known but this time the guy wasn't joking. The singer nodded his head, telling the waiter to leave them and intertwined his fingers on the table, intense eyes staring his best friend down.
"You can't show up here drunk and order a whole bottle of wine, Harold."
"I'm not drunk."
"Then why's your face red and why do you keep smiling like an idiot?"
That one simple question got Harry tongue-tied. He thought he might know the answer. But he couldn't even say it to himself let alone to his best friend who couldn't even keep a secret for longer than a day. Of course, he loved Niall with all his heart and would do anything for that man had he asked just once. But there was a good reason he would always confide in Isaac and had to think twice before confessing something to his other best friend.
"Are you sure you're sober, Harold?" Niall asked, probably still suspecting Harry was lying to him
"I am. Absolutely!"
"Good. I don't wanna see you as that drunk mess when the witch left again."
Niall paused as soon as he realized what he had just said, slowly lifting his eyes to check his best friend's reaction. Despite not mentioning any name, he knew Harry could already tell whom he was referring to. Of course, Niall didn't mean to bring her up at a happy dinner like this, it just slipped out by accident. Now he felt so bad about it.
Harry hadn't thought about Ruby for weeks now. He'd blocked her number and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd checked social media to see what she had been up to. Ever since the BAFTAs, the name Ruby Ellis had completely vanished from his mind. But Niall accidentally bringing her up tonight was almost like opening up an old wound.
Harry didn't know how to describe his relationship with Ruby, if it was ever a relationship. But his feelings for her had been real. His pain, his jealousy, his tears, his nightmares, all of them had been real. He couldn't even describe the post-goodbye since it had been the worst six months of his entire life. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming her name and reaching out to search for her figure only to hold onto air on the empty side of his bed. What he and Ruby had together was heaven and hell at the same time. So when he'd escaped from the maze that was her heart, and finally looked back from an outsider's point of view, he realized how wrong she had been for him, how much she had damaged him, physically and emotionally.
But he had loved her. He really had loved her. So much to the point even now if he was walking down the street, he would turn his head the second he smelt her favorite perfume on a stranger. However, some people were only meant to stay in your memory and not in your heart or your arms, and Harry had to learn it the hardest way in order to let her go.
"Don't worry. I'm not going back there again," he said, giving his best friend a reassuring smile.
"I believe in you." Niall reached out to hold his wrist. "She taught you to smoke and you quitted. Now you could quit her."
That sounded so sad, yet so true.
His ex-lover was nothing more than a bad habit.
The mood at the two gentlemen's table was lifted once again when the waiter from earlier returned with their food and two crystal glasses of mineral water. Niall had quite a passion for food as he did for music, so the look on his face when he saw the steaming dishes laid down in front of his eyes made Harry dissolve into laughter.
"I'm gonna take a photo for Isey," said the singer as he unlocked out his phone and rose from his chair to find a good angle for the shot.
"Why isn't he here though?" Harry asked. "Is he busy?"
"What are you talking about? He's in Rome right now. Didn't he tell you?"
"He's on vacation?"
"More like workation." Niall sat back down, rolling his eyes and put his phone away to grab the napkin. "You should try the fish, Harry. It's marvelous."
"Niall, what do you mean?" Harry honestly couldn't concentrate on eating at the moment to even think about how marvelous the fish was. "He's working in Italy? For how long?"
"At least six months or more. I don't know."
"Six months? But Y/N's birthday is next week."
"Who's Y/N?"
Harry sighed in frustration as he corrected himself, "Bambi."
"Oh, right! The Bambi/Smiley girl." Niall chuckled, shaking his head. "Isey asked her to be his girlfriend last week, but at that point, he still hadn't received the offer to shoot for Vogue Italy. Somehow Smiley...I mean Bambi found out about it so she turned him down. Isey was really sad so he flew off to Rome without telling anyone, and I just found out last night when I asked him to come with us. I assumed you'd already known because he always told you everything."
As Niall went on with his speculations about how Y/N had discovered the Vogue thing, Harry could only try to make sense why she'd lied to him that she had birthday plans with Isaac, knowing the guy was in Rome. Maybe she didn't want Harry to feel pity for her, maybe she just wanted to be alone, or maybe she thought he had done too much for her and didn't want him to show up at her door with a teddy bear and pink balloons with her initial on them. Anyway, her two best friends were in Boston and she obviously wouldn't come home for dinner with her dad and his new woman. So he couldn't let her celebrate her 20th birthday with a stack of books and way too much caffeine. Harry had missed many of her birthdays already and that was entirely his fault. But this time he had to do things differently.
"Niall." He calmly looked at his friend who had already finished half of the fish. "Do you happen to know any stargazing spot in London?"
#harry styles#my girl series#actor!harry#older!harry#bestfriend!harry#harry styles writing#harry styles series#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfics#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles smut
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This is, by far, the latest I’ve ever written one of my year round-ups, and by far, the messiest post.
2019 was a year guys, so have a really messily written year round up. If I try to tidy it up we’ll be here until December.
TL;DR
2019.
2019 was a year of love; happy, sad, somewhere in between.
My heart got broken.
Hera got married.
My friends are in love.
At the end of the Barat, in Pakistani wedding traditions, the bride goes home with the groom. Any events before that the bride always came home with her family. But for this main event, after the actual marriage contract has been signed, after all the festivities, she goes home with the groom. We took it in turns to hug Hera goodbye, I pushed myself to the back of the queue being the crier of the group.
When I was talking to Hera’s cousin she mentioned that some people have questioned why this little bit of the wedding celebrations causes such emotional responses from the bride’s family and friends, after all, we’ll see her again the next evening for the reception. And it’s not like she’s gone forever, she has just moved out of her parents house. She said that the reason for this was not because we will never see her again but because things will never be the same from that moment on. Not in a good, nor a bad way, it just is.
Changed.
Life changes and when one of your close friends get married it changes your relationship with them. Not that you or they love you/them less, not that you or they are less important, not that you or they care less. It just changes.
it doesn’t even have to be marriage.
In October, one morning in Peak District I was stood in the kitchen of our rented apartment and in front of me were two of my best friends with their other halves going on about their day eating their breakfast. It was a picturesque little scene I tried to capture as a photo, I was scared of ruining the moment though and my sly camera skills were terrible so I just have a blurry evidence of that moment. Throughout that holiday I caught little moments of the two couples, little moments I can’t really describe but you know it when you’re around it, little moments that made my heart swell and hurt at the same time. Because things are different. Things have changed.
Change isn’t bad, it can be really, really good. In fact I hope it’s a really, really, really good change for all of them, I just need a moment to accept that we’re no longer in our early 20s and our lives are going to change a lot before more.
2019 was a year of love; the good, the bad, and the bittersweet.
I started 2019 falling asleep as the fireworks went off. We had gone out for dinner earlier that evening with a friend from work and his missus, to a nice fancy restaurant where desserts are always perfect. I’m not one to go out on New Year’s so I worried that we’d be out long but, fortunately for me, the other couple we’re not up for a long one either so, after dinner, we tried to see if we could grab a couple of drinks in a bar before heading home but, as it was NYE, we had no luck. The other couple went home, we tried a couple more before we gave up and called it a night.
We were falling asleep when the fireworks went off. In our 20s, supposed to be the prime of your life, and I was cuddled up and happily falling asleep before the new year rang in. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
January meant Hamilton and birthday boardgames and lots of ballroom classes. I think this may have been the year that we also started, or tried to, regularly schedule in time for face masks.
Then it was suddenly February and I received the best Valentine’s day card in existence, I continued to dance, finally saw a Footlights performance and even caught a show put on by CUMTS. Cirque du Soleil was okay too…
March was when Amy, Izzy and I decided to start our own tradition, every year, no matter what, we’d get together; us and the boys, with the dogs, or kids or goodness know what else life gives us, we’d meet up. We’d meet up somewhere in the UK for a long weekend, where we’d go for walks and cook dinner, and just overall relax and unwind and catch up with each other. Each year starting that October at the Peak District.
March was when I forgot my water bottle at our last dance class and we had to turn the car around. March was when I got no sleep and still chose to go to work the next day.
For the three months we had worked in the new building together we had never bumped into each other in such close proximity, and then, suddenly, there he was coming out of the showers as I tried to find an empty stall to check how I tired I looked. I smiled, I can’t remember if I said anything but my heart dropped.
March was when I got my promotion and all I wanted to do was tell him.
I gave him his stuff back and I gave him his birthday present; an embossed leather notebook, dotted not lined, perfect for both writing and drawing, he was a design engineer after all.
In July he wished me a happy birthday.
In my head, people judge how much it hurt me when we were only together for nine months. But no one has the right to dictate how you feel.
Back in January, Hera started sending me dance videos, videos she wanted us to learn for her wedding.
By April, the Kate, Olive, Sam and I were in the full swing of Friday on a Monday: Dance Edition. We’d cook a spicy meals (the spice increased in level as we went along, yoghurt or cream became more for taste than for firefighting) then we’d dance. Every Monday, where possible. Sometimes we’d skype Charley, sometimes Charley would be with us in person.
As per usual we celebrated birthdays not in the correct months; Kate’s November was in January in form of birthday boardgames, face masks and hand massages by Olive. Charley’s January was in May in Claydon house where we discussed medieval fayres and the Jane Austen festival, where we sat in a private chapel and spoke as we wished until a lady came into actually pray and we tried our best to exit quietly. Sam gave Olive a piggy back in the gardens and there were some happy screaming and laughter. Olive’s March preceded Charley’s as we went to Bath in May and had ourselves our own very luxurious baths. Preceded and proceeded by enough Sally Lunn buns to feed a small army.
My mum randomly won tickets to Look East festival so Charley and I went on an impromptu trip to London and saw Mumford and Sons live. Next time we’ll be prepared with a picnic blanket and more sunscreen for Charley. Indeed we were more fully prepared a month later for West End Live, armed with a cool bag full of food and drinks. What we weren’t prepared for, though, was the vast amount of people queueing. We knew it was popular and we knew there would be a long queue but we didn’t quite anticipate just how big. Having said that, after we admitted defeat we found a little section to the side of Trafalgar square with deck chairs facing a huge screen live streaming the whole event. We didn’t get seats straightaway but sure enough a family with kids left slightly earlier. Instead of standing under the sun for hours on end, Charley and I sat on our deck chairs in the shade in a lovely June day eating our food and drinking to our heart’s content. We decided that in 2020, we’d just do the exact same. We also come out wanting to watch ever single musical there was.
Speaking of getting the right picnic spot, we are starting to have this ‘Singing on the river’ thing down; picnic blankets a plenty, napkins, cutleries, takeaway for dinner by the river listening to the wonderful King’s men perform renditions of old and new songs. It’s a Cambridge tradition we just can’t miss.
We did try to keep up monthly dinners in 2019; we went to Varsity, The Red Lion and Petersfield before we had to suspend the dinners as it was time to fly to Pakistan.
After the vaccinations were done, after the visas were sorted, after all the clothes were bought, after all the make-up and hair trials were done, after all suitcases were packed, after all the dances were mastered (somewhat), after the incredibly long wait to see Hera again it was time to get in the taxi and slowly but surely make our way to the train station. Slowly because we had a flat tyre. But it was going to be faster to get on a slow car than wait for another taxi.
For months on end, as a group, we all had a phrase “After Pakistan”. The amount of things we said we’d do ‘after Pakistan’ and suddenly we were there. Suddenly it was all gone.
I’m not sure life kept going after Pakistan, you know.
And yet it did. I came back to work with my new manager fully into the swing of things, nothing had exploded and everything was still chugging along. Suddenly I was being invited to more meetings and prospects of going business trips became a thing.
I also started sewing classes, along with Olive and Sarah. I stopped ballroom classes and continued with krav maga.
In October, Amy and Tom picked me up in Cambridge and we all drove to Bakewell together to meet Izzy and Zack. The weather could have been nicer to us but it was the UK in October, we should have known better. So off we went, in the rain, walking down an old railroad track (we did consider cycling but that got confusing and expensive), climbing hills for loo breaks and risking ankles and necks for a hope of a nice warm lunch only to be disappointed because pubs in the middle of nowhere is far and few in between and only serve food at specified hours. Having walked for hours with a small amount of sustenance we took the taxi home and enjoyed a meal at the apartment instead.
In November, we flew to Bulgaria and what an experience it was. Beautiful sceneries and definitely a hidden gem, but take it from me, don’t take the jeep up the mountain. Find a different mountain, there’s plenty. Explore the gorgeous towns preserved to their original glory and feel like you’ve been transported back in time. Try the local cuisine! Dress up in traditional Bulgarian outfits, it’ll make a wonderful family photo.
That same month, Hera visited England again. For a mere few days she stayed in Cambridge and we tried to make the most of it as possible. Butch Annie’s was obviously a requirement. And at last, once again, Kate’s November birthday was celebrated in November. In a once in a lifetime opportunity where all six of us were finally back together again to tackle not one, not two but three escape rooms! We got out of every single one of them. No biggie! But just like that, we were all split up again.
But no rest for the wicked because the very next day I was off to Austria on a business trip. My first ever business trip. It wasn’t all work and no play, in fact, at one point we were chucked out of the office so we can explore Vienna further so we did. We went to Christmas market after Christmas market and I stocked up on Christmas baubles and Christmas presents. My favourite bauble though? Came from the Bury St Edmunds Christmas Fayre. I’ll be on the look out for you again next year!
Before long it was December. With all the hubub of 2019 and the hubub that 2020 will bring (in form of a NYE party) I decided it was best if we had someone else cook for us for Friends Christmas. Secret Santas were exchanged and extra sticky toffee puddings were ordered, no dishes were cleaned by our hands that evening,
And then it was time to party. 1920’s themed party to ring in the 2020’s…
When I really think about it 2019 was one helluva year. So much has changed, so much will change. There isn’t one month similar to the one before, it’s terrifying. Growing up is terrifying. Changes are terrifying.
But we have to bury broken hearts and raise a glass to falling in love, we have to hug memories goodbye and smile at the new ones. We have to accept things won’t be the same but that’s not a bad thing. There are still songs to dance to and movies to cry at, rooms to escape and snacks to share. They’ll always be there no matter what… no matter what 2020 will bring.
#personal#end of year#end of year 2019#yes I have written this as if I don't know what's happening in 2020 already
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Coffee addicted
A/N: So this imagine has been in my drafts for so long but that is becuase I have been writing it for so long and I just wanted to make it perfect and even though I don’t like it as much as I do some of my fics I still think the idea is good and all of that. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy.
PAIRING: George Weasley x Muggle!reader
TAGS: @siriusly-loves-snuffles, @slither-in-a-half, @nadinissavage, @shadyladyperfection, @geeksareunique, @ashkuuuu, @xinyourdreamsx, @maralisa124, @loserslytherpuff, @chloe-geoghegan1, @musekala, @moonysmilkshake, @crispyfrenchfrieschrusis, @unicorn-sparkles123, @queenofravenclaw05, @redhead-weasley, @fashionlive15, @quokkatrash, @bennie-badeend, @sly-vixen-up2nogood, @rosegoldquintis
(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED)
XX
It was another one of those days. Those dark days where he couldn't sleep. Torturous days where his other half kept reappearing, sometimes smiling and laughing with him and sometimes laying on the ground, cold and pale. He couldn't stop thinking about him. He could never stop. Not even after a year he still felt cold and alone.
That is why he wasn't home. He wasn't at the apartment he used to share with his brother. It just didn’t feel home without him. Nothing ever felt the same without him. Not the warmth that came from the fireplace, nor the comfortable sofa they came up with the ideas on and not even the sunlight that shone through the windows in the enormous living room. It was cold and dark.
So he walked the night, the streets of the Muggle world. It's better there. Nobody knows him and nobody stops him to ask how he was holding up.
Here, he was just a muggle. He was a person and only that.
So as he gazed up at the stars, thinking about his other half looking down on him, probably thinking he was being sappy, he simpered but the moment his mouth curved into a smile a girl appeared out of the corner and bumped right into the man.
"Oh my god. I am so sorry. " you quickly apologized, dropping the map from your hands and looking up at the boy.
"It's okay. I'm sorry. I should have been watching where I was going. " he smiled awkwardly, bending down to pick up the map you were struggling with.
" No, trust me. It is not your fault. " you reassured him, sending him another smile. " I have been wandering these streets for about 15 minutes and I think I am even more lost than before. "
Stretching his smile into a beam, he ran his finger through his red hair and chuckled. " You're not from here, are you? "
"Is it that obvious? "
" The accent gave you up. " he grinned and lifted the map in his hands. “ And the map.”
" Oh..that. " you smiled and took the map from his hands. " Anyways, since you are from around here, might telling me where to find the cheapest motel. "
" Yeah. It's just a few streets down. Don't worry, you can't miss it."
You turned around with your gigantic backpack on your shoulders almost knocking him off his feet. " Oh. Well, crap. " you cursed, narrowing your eyes at the distance and seeing a big sign few blocks down. " That's for not wearing my glasses. " you smiled at him and started backing away. " Anyways thanks for the help......"
" William. " he replied, waving at you.
" Nice to meet you, William. I'm (y/n). " you shouted back, almost falling over your feet before awkwardly smiling at him. "I'm fine! I'm fine."
He chuckled, shaking his head at you. A muggle, completely new to this world. New to his world to say the least. Due to the dark night, he couldn't see you but he knew you must have looked beautiful. To who else would that adorable laugh belong to. And that smile, that smile was gorgeous as well. It was the only thing that kept pondering in his head all the way home.
The memory kept pondering in his head the whole next month and he felt lighter, better. He felt like he should at least have done something to see you one more time. Get your number or walk you to the motel.
Ron, who has been helping him around, hasn't seen George crack a smile in a long time. There was still no joking but he was glad to see him smiling again.
Until the night came again. A terrible nightmare that made him walk back to the window and gaze upon the stars. A tear wanted to escape his eyes but he couldn’t. He couldn’t cry anymore. It was just a big sad hole in the pit of his stomach that wanted him to at least force himself to cry. To let it all out.
But all of a sudden you appeared in his mind.
' (y/n). ' he thought, saying it out loud and remembering your smile.
He knew he should have used his real name but Bill didn't use his so why should he? Why should he be the sad, twinless brother while Bill gets to have such a wonderful life with his gorgeous wife and daughter?
So he decided to walk the night again. To get some fresh air and clear his head but honestly, he kept roaming the night, hoping he might run into you.
But nothing happened. No smile, no giggle and no girl with the name of (y/n). Nothing happened until he was walking down the empty streets of London and looking for an open coffee shop. He was exhausted but he didn't want to sleep. Not tonight at least.
He entered the only coffee shop with a light on, punching the bell a few times.
Nobody came. There were only a few groups of friends and drunks at the tables. Irritated, he punched the bell a few times until he became impatient and continued to punch it nonstop.
"I'm coming! Geez!" A familiar voice came from the back, causing George to turn his frown into a beam. A girl, your height and your messy (y/h/c) hair walked from the back of the shop, hair in a low ponytail while a few strands fell from your barista hat. The mascara was a little smudged under your eyes and the clothes you were wearing were overloose and covered with coffee stains.
Not even looking up at the man, you grabbed a pen and a cup. " How can I help you? "
" How about a direction to the cheapest motel in London?" He smiled and you quickly looked up at the familiar voice.
" William. " you stretched a smile, putting down your cup and taking off the stupid barista cap, throwing it somewhere in the back and trying to fix your hair. “ Uhm, wha- what are you doing here?”
He looked so much more handsome in the light. Stocky, tall and lovely brown eyes. Few freckles with matching ginger hair. " Hello, (y/n). I don't know you worked here."
" Well, my dreams are finally coming true. Becoming a barista was always a passion of mine. " you spoke sarcastically, earning another chuckle from him. " So what can I get you, Will? Can I call you Will? I mean it kind of feels wrong saying it-"
"Will is fine." He spoke softly, looking up at the menu and reading the orders.
That gave you a perfect opportunity to observe the man. He had a gorgeous smile. So bright and lovely just as his laugh. What made you more keen on your attention was his left ear. He didn't have one.
" I'll have a vanilla cappuccino." He looked down on you, catching you in your action and causing you to blush.
" Right! " you exclaimed awkwardly, searching for the cup you placed down before. " Capilla- I mean vanilla cappuccino coming up."
" How much?" He chuckled, reaching for his wallet before you stopped him.
" Oh, no, no. It's on me. It's the least I can do for the man who helped me. " you smiled, writing Will on the cup and filling it in a creamy mix of milk and coffee.” Here you go. “ you gave him the cappuccino, smiling. “ And thank you again. “
“ Thank YOU. “ he smiled, lifting up the cup and walking out the doors.
‘ (y/n). ‘
Now, he can finally put a beautiful face to a beautiful name because just like you, he has been observing you as well. From the corner of his eye, as he pretended to read the menu, he caught your beautiful features and he was right; you were beautiful.
----
He became your favorite customer. He didn’t miss a day of his coffee. Mondays and Tuesdays was an expresso, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays was a latte, Saturdays was a strawberry and vanilla tea while Sundays were usually a hot choco.
It was a routine but there came days where he would ask for a vanilla cappuccino. It happened twice, maybe three times a week but when he ordered it, you knew something was wrong. To be honest, there came days where you wanted to ask him about it but you couldn’t let your curiosity ruin the relationship the two of you had.
“ Good morning. “ his voice was cheerful and loud, as it was unusual for a Monday morning.
“ An expresso? “ you smiled, reaching for a cup.
“ Actually give me two, my brother is being grumpy without his morning coffee.” he smiled and you turned around with a smirk.
“ A brother? I didn’t know you had one of those. “
“ A pack of them actually. And the coolest sister might I add. “
“ And what is Mr. Grumpy’s name? “ you held up a cup and marker.
“ Ron. “ he smiled. “ But Grumpy will be fine. “
“ Alright. “ you smiled, writing down the name and filling it with coffee, both of the cups before giving them to George. “ And have a nice Monday. “
“ Likewise, madam.” he bowed and exited the coffee shop.
---
He entered the shop, smiling and climbing the stairs to find Ron. “ Honey! I’m home! “ he shouted, finding his brother packing up the new toys. “ Brought you some coffee. Thought it might cheer you up a bit.“
“ The hell have you been, George. “ he got up, grabbing the coffee from his hand before grabbing another box. “ You’ve been gone for twenty minutes. “
“ It’s a whole new world out there, Ronikins. Had to go explore it. “
Ron turned around at his sudden change of mood, taking a sip of his coffee. “ Oh, this is some good stuff. Where did you get it? “
“ Up and down, here and there.” he wiggled his eyebrows at him.
“ Uh-um. “ he threw him a suspicious look before leaning back on the desk and taking another sip. “ Speak. “
“ Okay, there is this girl.” he smiled, throwing himself on the chair and giggling.
“ A girl? “ another voice entered the room, revealing a beautiful young lady with a few bruises on her arm.
“ Ginny? What are you doing here? “ Ron asked but was completely ignored by her.
She sat down next to George and smiled. “ Who is this girl? “
“ She is so gorgeous Gin. “ George swooned, not believing the words he spoke out loud right now. “ She has this smile that just makes me smile. And an adorable laugh that just makes me want to kiss her. “
“ Than why haven’t you asked her on a date yet? “
The question got him thinking. Why didn't he ask her on a date yet? Maybe because she doesn't know about the wizarding world. Or maybe it was because he was not ready. Not ready to love someone, someone who he might love more than his brother. A brother he has lost.
" I can't."
"You can't?" Both Ron and Ginny spoke together, a shocked expression on both of their freckled face.
" I can't." George got up and walked through the door.
He walked slowly as the night crept in. This time he didn't walk the streets of the Muggle world. He walked the path to his brother.
He knelt down, looked at the gravestone for just a moment before glancing down on the grass.
"Freddie...I miss you." He spoke glumly, his finger playing with the grass. " I miss you quite a lot but I know you're here. I know you watch over me...and all of us." He simpered, fell back on the ground so that he sat opposite of his brother's gravestone. " And if you are watching over me then you probably know about her. The girl in the coffee shop. (Y/n) is her name." His simper turned into a smile. "Isn't it just a lovely name?"
' (Y/n) with lovely (y/e/c) eyes and the way, they glow up. The way they match her smile and the way they lurk around whenever he decides to sit and read a book.' He thought, smiling foolishly at himself.
' You're such a git, Georgie.' He thought of his brother's voice in his head, almost as he was there. 'You like her and here you are, sitting like a fool and talking to a ghost.'
"I know."
'Than what are you doing?'
"She's a Muggle, Freddie."
' Bollocks! She is a muggle. You are bloody right, George Weasley should never date a Muggle. Oh dear god no.'
"Okay, I get your point."
But there was nothing now. Not a single voice in his head that could reply to him back. The only thing he knew right now was, what the hell was he doing sitting here and talking to a ghost?
So he ran. He ran into the Coffeshop, stumbling over and dodging Muggles until he was back in the coffee shop.
Though you weren't there. Not in your usual spot, nor any other table. Where were you?
"Hello, hi." He spoke to a girl behind the counter, her barista hat on and one hell of a sad expression.
"What can I get you?" She spat out.
" Might telling me where (y/n) is?"
" She went home. Probably pack or something."
"Pack?"
"Yeah. She's leaving tomorrow."
Leaving? You can't be leaving? What about - you can't.
'' Wha- When? '' George realized his tone was desperate, something he hasn't heard in a long time since his brother's death.
'' I don't know, Red. You ask me too many questions.'' She turned around, leaving him behind in his own desperation.
He ran his hands through his hair, over and over again, pondering the thought of how to find her. Running back to the girl, he put his charming smile on his face and leaned on the counter, calmly this time.
---
You huffed, placing another T-shirt on the pile. '' I hate this.'' You grumbled, turning around, leaving for the living room and putting your hair in one shit of a bun. Grabbing the basket of unfolded clothes, you heard your back crack and you huffed once again, lifting the basket and heading back to the bedroom. '' I really hate this.''
Back down the hall, to the living room, this time heading towards the kitchen for a glass of water, you opened the cabinet to reach up for the glass but was interrupted by a knock instead.
'' Who is it? '' you shouted, closing the cabinet and walking towards the door.
'' It's Ge- I mean Will.'' George replied, hating to call himself after his brother.
'' Shit! '' you started to panic, looking in the mirror and seeing how awful you looked. Shit of a bun, sweaty top, unshaved, shorts. '' I'll be there in a minute! '' you bolted into the bedroom, putting down your bun and changing into longer sweatpants that fell down your hips perfectly. You rumbled through the clothes, looking for a nice sporty shirt but your ginger cat was getting in the way. '' Get lost! Shoo!'' you shooed him and the cat ran off while you ran back, putting your hair in a tight ponytail and opening the door.
' Fuck! I forgot to put deodorant!' you thought, hoping you didn't smell like a pig as he stood in front of you with those gorgeous brown eyes.
'' Hey.'' You smiled. '' Come in.''
''Hi.'' He beamed, coming in your apartment and try to pass you in a tight hall, causing the two of you to be closer by only an inch. '' Oh wow, this hall is small.'' He smiled awkwardly, trying to walk past you.
Blushing, you closed the door and reached your hand for his coat '' Here, let me.''
» Thanks.« he replied and walked into the living room.
It was small, old with clothes scattered all over the floor but you could still see it was quite a cozy apartment.
» Sorry about the mess. I didn't know I had this many clothes until I decided to clean my wardrobe.« you laughed awkwardly, walking into a messy living room and picking up the clothes from the ground.
» I don't want you to leave.« he blurted out, turning around so you were faced with his back instead of those gorgeous brown eyes. He ran his hand down his face thinking of what to say to you after what he just said.
» Leaving?« you quivered, throwing the clothes in the basket and leaning on the kitchen table with your arms crossed. » What do you mean leaving?«
» Isn't that why you're packing? Cleaning your wardrobe?« he turned around, catching your confused gaze.
Uncrossing your arms, you walked back to the living room and grabbed the clothes from the sofa. » I told my boss I need some time off. I haven't cleaned this place since I moved in. I work every day and have no time for myself. I told her I want some time off.« you explained, walking back to the kitchen table and throwing all the clothes in the basket which sat on the chair.
And then it suddenly hit you.
» William?« you turned around, your voice soft and shy. » Wha- I mean, did you come here to prevent me from leaving? Or-.« you started to blush at your own words.
» George.« he spoke, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes and simpering. » My name is not William, it's George.«
» What?« you replied, this time louder and with a sharp edge in your tone. You crossed your arms once again, leaning back on the kitchen table as you did before and glaring at him.
»Don't be mad. Please.« he took a few steps towards.
» Well, I am mad, Will- I mean George.« you corrected yourself, uncrossing your arms. » I'm mad because I found myself liking you and now I just found out you've been lying to me for months.«
» You like me?« he smirked, taking another step closer so the two of you were only an inch apart. His hand took a hold of yours, causing your fingertips to burn from his touch and your cheeks turn red.
Avoiding his gaze, you kept your eyes on the ground and tried to brush off the burning feeling on your fingertips. » That's not the point.« you moved away, finally being able to breathe and look him in the eye. » Why did you lie?«
» I-I..« he sighed, took a deep breath then looked away. » More than a year ago, I lost my brother in a war.« he paused, turning around and walking to sit on a sofa. » He was everything to me. Literally everything.« he smiled and finally looked up at you.
You softened your expression, uncrossed your arms and continued to listen.
» The worst part was that he was my twin which meant I shared my whole life with. It's not that I had to share my life with him, it's the fact that I wanted to. He was a nutter, I'll tell you that, but he was my nutter and my brother and my best friend. And I know my siblings kept trying to make me feel better after I've lost him, but they never truly understood my connection with Fred. And after Fred died, everybody kept asking me how was I holding up and that he's in a better place and all of that but honestly I just wanted them to leave me alone.« he kept his eyes on the ground, glancing at you from time to time but as he did you weren't in the kitchen, leaning back on the kitchen table. You were sitting beside him and held his hand on your own. » I met you that day after I had another of those dreams. Dreams of him. And he was laughing with me after we blew up that new project of ours for our shop. So, when I woke up smiling, I just felt sad immediately because he was gone and I was still here. And I went for a walk and I bumped into you. » he smiled wider and brushed his thumbs over the back of your hand. » And you were new and you didn't know who I was or who my family was or that I lost a brother and I needed someone to look at me normally, Not from pity or grief. So, I introduced myself as William.«
» And the vanilla cappuccino?« you asked out of the blue, though you pretty much knew what it was about after hearing his story.
» You noticed, didn't you?« he asked and you simpered.
» I'm a barista, of course, I noticed.«
» Yeah.« he chuckled. » Whenever Fred and I got into a fight, which was rare but it happened, mom made us vanilla cappuccino as some kind of peace offering between us. I don't know how it worked but we were kids and vanilla cappuccino somehow always made us forget about the fight. So whenever he was sad or I was sad, we made each other a vanilla cappuccino and it somehow got better.«
» Oh.«
» Don't feel sorry. Please don't. I get that from my family enough as it is.«
» I'm not.« you denied and he chuckled.
» Yes, you are. You're just trying not to.«
» Look.« you took his hands into yours. » I'm upset that you lied to me about who you are but I'm glad you told me the truth. To be honest I like George more than I like William.«
There was silence in the room now, only your cat's paws hitting the floor as she approached George.
» Shoo.« you tried to shoo your cat away but he only crawled into George's lap and purred.
George removed his hands from your hold and started petting the cat, scratching behind his ears and down to his neck until he found it's collar. » Aren't you just an adorable little kitty.« he cooed and the cat turned on her back so he could scratch his belly. » What's her name?« he asked, placing his both hands on each side of cats head and massage it.
» Well…it's a he.« you chuckled and let your fingers wander to the cat's fur. » And his name is Jack.« you smiled and took George's hands from the cat and to your own hold.
He looked at you, grinning and letting one hand place itself on your cheek. Leaning in, he pressed his lips onto yours and started to kiss you softly. You smiled into it and let your hands run through his messy, dense, ginger hair. That was until a little furball at your feet started meowing and scratching both of your legs.
The two of you pulled away, chuckling and looking down at the cat. You smiled at George, giving him a soft peck on the lips and playing with his hair. » Anything else I should know?«
He smiled, prepared to give you a clear no but then there was something he clearly couldn’t hide from you. » Do you believe in magic?«
#george weasley#george weasley imagine#george weasley x reader#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#weasley twins#THE GOLDEN TRIO#golden trio era#harry potter imagines
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year of the wildflower
I can’t believe it’s fucking February and I have yet to sit down and reflect on the end of yet another year. 2018.
Two Thousand and Eighteen.
What a glorious, glorious year you were for me. (It was the ten-year anniversary of 2008 after all, so I probably should have seen that one coming. Hindsight is a fickle beast I’ve yet to learn to tame.)
I started the year off with a lot of newness—preparing to move out of my apartment of seven years, for example.
Though I knew it was time for a new beginning, the months leading up to this move were hard for me. I felt like I was separating myself from some former version of myself; a hermit crab shedding her proverbial shell.
The moment we found Hoegarden, however, I knew it was the right choice.
Only four blocks up the street (a six-minute walk; I timed it) from my old place, it felt like the comfort of home laced with the thrill of a new start.
And so, I packed.
I purged.
And the week before I moved, I flew to India. (I am nothing if not wildly ridiculous at a seemingly predictable rate: life change? Leave the fucking country!)
I have been talking about going to India obsessively since the eleventh grade (I had learned about Holi and became obsessed with Eastern culture quickly after.)
Though I paraded around with arrogance, I was quite intimidated to plan this trip. It was something I don’t think I realized was happening until we had landed, disembarked, and had been rushed into the chaotic Delhi streets at midnight before it really hit me—that I was here, and I couldn’t be afraid.
So, I wasn’t.
I had only one bad experience that night, and I handled it—I learned to say no. As an American, millennial, feminist, I thought this was something I was already good at.
Turns out, I was not.
But I got better. And by the end of my trip, I felt so completely safe, so enamored by the sights, the smells (rich dirt moist with the smell of sweat, the sultry scent of saffron, sweetened candy from the streets…curry!) that I was sad my time was over so soon.
This trip prepared me for Morocco—the adult I had to be, the sticky situations I had to diffuse, middle eastern culture. I wandered those golden, enchanted markets thirsty for authenticity, and I always seemed to find it, for better or for worse.
There was lots of yelling. Lots of jetlag. And lots of running for flights.
But between these two trips, these two monumental events in my life, I walked away and felt growth. I felt proud of where I’d gone and what I’d seen. And that, though I was accompanied by friends (and oh, the friends we made!) I had accomplished this feat mostly alone, planning and ultimately orchestrating both trips by my lonesome, endlessly researching cultural customs, Indian cuisines and transport, Ramadan rules (because we were in Morocco during the holiday) and I had fucking succeeded.
I flew again to London (London, London, London, alwaysLondon) and Scotland and finished up my year by going to Australia.
Five continents in one year.
I spent an entire day running around Jaipur, my phone almost being stolen by a monkey, and I tried to get an Uber in a place where elephants are considered vehicles and you can order a tuk-tuk via the app.
I bathed, fed, and walked a rescued elephant—Chin Chin—and felt her two-ton belly swollen with babies (twins!) as she made me laugh by playing with my hair and squirting water on my head when I wasn’t playing with her.
I was welcomed into the home of strangers and fed a home cooked meal; the best I had in all of India.
I made friends with the soda-shop boys near our palace of an Airbnb and left them with all of my change upon leaving the country. (This would leave me completely screwed at the airport where the vendors did not accept credit cards, but alas—who am I if not starving and stressed about non-reving out of another country?)
I woke up at four in the morning and rode all the way to Agra to bask in the wonderful Taj Mahal. I dipped my toes in it’s gorgeous lakes and dreamt of a love so big someone would construct a monument to celebrate it someday that would put this silly marble slab of stone to shame.
I returned to Spain and wandered the streets of Barcelona and Madrid like a pro; how quickly three years had passed, how recently it seemed upon returning.
We flew down to Morocco and booked a famous riad with a driver and were escorted through the airport like queens (gluttons, really.) We wandered the many rooms of our new home excitedly, pretending to be princesses and bursting into wine-induced fits of laughter when the first Ramadan calls came over the loudspeaker and bellowing down into our open-aired fortress.
We wandered the gardens of Yves Saint Laurent and I impressed Lauren and Beebs with my correct pronunciation of the designer’s name (thanks, Cardi.)
We took a horse drawn carriage through Marrakech and were swindled by henna artists in the streets (it was still worth it.)
We boarded a ten-passenger caravan and took a trek that took us through the northern African mountains, the many small villages and ruins, learned about the art of rug making and sipped on delicious mint tea.
And then I was proposed to. His name was Watik. Once again, I said no. Albeit a more forceful one.
We drove directly into a sand storm and learned how to adorn our heads with a “passport to the desert” to protect us from the harsh conditions.
And then we rode camels through the fucking Sahara Desert.
We camped in giant rooms and dined under the stars (the most delicious of the tangines we had, though it’s honestly hard to pick) and listened to our guides play African drums under the moonlight.
And then we went adventuring into the night.
I remember climbing to the top of a dune, digging my toes deeper into the sand and being amazed at how bright the moonlight shone over the dessert sands.
(We watched the sunrise in the morning, and I was equally in awe of nature’s subtle beauty.)
We wandered the ancient city of Fes with our newly married friends and took in the smells of sweet mint leaf and the curing of animal hyde in the tanneries.
I took a few weeks off traveling and fucking prepared for what would be my mother’s first trip abroad: The UK.
I got to see the excitement fill her eyes upon seeing the London skyline, see some adolescent excitement light up in her upon taking her to her first protest (baby Trump riot—yes, it was as amazing as it looked on television) and watched her fall in love with old, ancient English streets, the ones I’ve loved for so many years, watch her accept my longing, my desire to make this my home, as she fell completely head over heels in love with it, too.
I drank violet gin and watched bagpipers play in the street and climbed to the highest part of Edinburgh just so I could turn around and look down at it in awe.
I watched Paul Simon say farewell, with another 500,000 fans in the royal gardens and wept with emotion when he opened his set with “America.”
I came back and saw Paramore with my strawberry, I saw St. Vincent in all her glory, Twin Peaks and First Aid Kit and even flew to Denver to see Ryan Adams play Red Rocks.
I stressed, a lot.
And yet somehow always made it through.
I celebrated my Dad’s sixtieth birthday and got to finally show him around Chicago, my home, and watch as he pieced together a new aspect of me he never seemed to understand before.
I flew to Denver to meet up with my best friend for a road trip to Salt Lake to see Panic. We cuddled and laughed and jammed and danced under the stars in beautiful Big Sky.
And then there was Australia. Rainy, jungle-esque Australia.
Noodle night in the muddy park and Aussie pizza (twice, because it really was that spectacular.)
Twin Peaks at an abandoned skate-house and teenagers blacking out around us.
Ferry rides hopped up on Nyquil. Books read in cafes.
Beautiful, beautiful Melbourne.
Lauren laughing at me because of fear of all the various vicious birds we encountered. My allergies through the roof, throat closing in the royal gardens.
Not one single fucking kangaroo.
There was San Francisco and fleet week and the Mystic Valley Band at a winery in Sonoma. (The most beautiful sunset I’d ever seen—and that wine!)
I left the country so many times this year with no more than pennies to my name, no place to stay when I landed, nothing but an inspiration and the courage to make myself show up for a flight.
I took myself to the Opera and felt bougie for sipping on black coffee the entire time and sitting alone.
I relaxed.
I found myself hiding away in my new home, no school to attend (because again, I fucking GRADUATED COLLEGE) and no trips to take and I felt… peace.
An old friend came to town and I met up with him for drinks and now Taylor is my boyfriend.
Me; a boyfriend.
Me; in love.
I held his hand at Chriskindel market and consoled him after an eventful first Thanksgiving together. I rubbed my hands through his luscious hair and kissed his forehead where the small patch of gray grows in with the eager fervor of old age. (My old man.)
I let him love me, all of me, and sat back in amazement as I lowered my walls, my protection, and let this one man weasel his way through the booby traps I had planted long before.
(He detonated them all.)
I watched, silently—though often times conflicted—as the light in his eyes grew familiar, listened as his sweet, humble snoring cooed me to sleep.
I fell in love.
And through all of the fantastic adventures 2018 took me, through every corner of the world, I did not know that what I had been looking for all along was him. My love, my prince, my sweet, sincere, annoying, handsome, smart, idiot, adorable boyfriend Taylor.
And now I feel so whole.
2018 was a big year for me—in every way imaginable. I even started grad school (I’m a masochist, I must be). But it was the last year I would be in my twenties.
In February, I turned twenty-nine and began preparing myself for the start of a new decade. I felt unaccomplished and somehow proud of what I’d done—scared yet eager to grow older.
Weeks before my birthday, I marched proudly with thousands of others through the streets of my home, my city, protesting our asshat of a president and the suppression of women’s rights. I remember walking through the streets, sign in hand, feeling like a fully actualized version of myself; I was finally the person I had always wanted to be.
It just took me longer than I had expected to get there.
My twenties were a tumultuous time (something eerily familiar about the terrible two’s, no?)
Where I lost myself and tried on new versions of myself for extended periods of time.
I dropped out of college and worked three jobs.
I moved cross-country with my best friend to live in a big city like I had always wanted to.
I became a flight attendant.
I went back to college and graduated. Then I got into fucking grad school.
I fell in love with four boys: the first, my first. The truest, the purest; a complete and total heartbreak. The second, from afar—that spark, that magnetism—now a friend engaged himself, and I couldn’t be happier for him and his wife-to-be. The third, my German—a wrong fit I tried so desperately to squish into all of my open, healing wounds. And the fourth, my love—my Taylor. My partner.
I slept with some awful people (two; M & T).
And kissed plenty more.
I lost friends I thought I’d never lose and met friends I thought I’d never have.
I discovered what it is to be broke.
Brutally, honestly, broke.
And yet I traveled.
I visited fifteen countries in those ten years and did it all on my own terms. I saw Stonehenge, the Sahara, the Taj Ma-Fucking-Hal, went to Oktoberfest, played Sega in Japan and even saw Alex Turner a whopping four times in one decade. (What a facetious little man.)
I cried in bathroom stalls and did coke in bathroom stalls and danced so much I felt invincible and once upon a time even owned the streets of Ybor.
I did acid on tinder dates and even dated a girl, my only girl, my Kelli.
I watched as my sister got engaged and our little family grew by one.
I lost my Cody, my baby, and felt his spirit in a haunted hotel in South Dakota (hi, baby.)
I wandered many foreign streets and stumbled my way through foreign languages and ordered foreign food I couldn’t pronounce the name of and didn’t like the taste of.
I went to so many concerts I’ll probably be deaf, and probably soon.
I was so surrounded by love and so alone at times I silently cried myself to sleep in a new city.
I cut off my hair, got six tattoos and went to so many different music festivals.
I was wild; I was timid. I was fierce; I was afraid. I was whole; I felt alone.
(Walt Whitman isn’t the only one who can contain multitudes.)
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A childhood of travelling Mediterranean Spain has made me a sun baby and after a decade in England, I have some serious wanderlust. Here’s my current bucket list of places I want to explore ASAP (in order of most to least desperately) and why.
1. Bali, Indonesia
I’m actually planning a trip to Bali next year and I couldn’t be more excited. To me, Bali is a dream come true: its natural beauty, rich cultural heritage and dirt cheap luxury villas spell paradise. I’m hoping to explore Ubud (made famous by “Eat Pray Love” starring Julia Roberts), Canggu, the numerous religious temples and art galleries like Anang Rai art gallery and Neka Art museum.
Bali is a well-known holiday destination among Australians for its surf as well as its natural beauty. It’s also popular for yoga retreats, so I’m hoping to go away for some well-needed aerial yoga to practise my trapeze and silks as well as catch some waves in the sun. *sigh*
2.Thailand
Another country I’ve been gagging to explore for years. I was very jealous when my close friend went travelling across Thailand for a few months with his then girlfriend, so I’ll definitely ask for some tips when I go and hopefully it’ll be some day soon.
I get the impression that the UK is somewhat conflicted in its stereotypes of Thailand as a travel destination. With the image of numerous idyllic islands like Phuket and Ko Tao sporting dazzling beaches and rain-forests set against the image of seedy city strip joints, prostitution and dangerous, sweaty traffic, I think Thailand scares some people. This reaction fairly understandable, however wherever someone is considered rich simply from the area they come from is going to be harder on the locals than the tourists.
Pai, in the Mai Hong Soon province is a small town that is considered a bubbling goldmine of culture, beauty and cheap activities, including hot springs, markets, hammock cafes and waterfalls. It’s very laid-back. I’d also be very keen to visit Railay Beach on the west peninsula, go island hopping and visit Bangkok for a bit more of a buzz.
3. Budapest, Hungary
I was going to visit Budapest this summer for the music festival Budafest, however it clashed with Boomtown in Hampshire, UK. Budapest is widely renowned for its decadent architecture, food, as well as its rich and exciting cultural attractions. I, like anyone else, travel for three main reasons: food, nature and culture. To me, Budapest is an irresistible city, with its famous thermal winter baths, markets full of street food and bright, gothic castles.
Hungary’s mistreatment of the refugees that attempt to pass through it is very upsetting, however they aren’t the only country guilty, the UK especially have their role to play. It’s quite hard to find much information online on the the current refugee situation there now so when I go, possibly in January 2019 if I can gather the funds, I’d really like to get a picture of what’s happening.
Hungarian culture isn’t something I’m very knowledgeable on, so researching and learning a bit of Hungarian in preparation for a visit to its capital city would be a wonderful opportunity to soak up its culture and history, most of it shrouded in mystery to the average Brit.
4. Barcelona, Spain
Barcelona is a really special place to me; it’s my home-city. My parents moved when I was two. I’ve only been there twice since, but it’s the coolest city I’ve ever been to. It feels like home as soon as you step off the plane. Everywhere you look you’re greeted with music, art, architecture and food. Among its most famous attractions are Gaudi’s church of the “Sagrada Família” (along his many other works), Primavera Sound festival, the Gothic Quarter known for its in tact medieval style buildings, and La Rambla walk; a renowned boulevard full of street performers and market stalls. Unfortunately, La Rambla is now famous for its terror attack in 2017, but is generally considered very safe, even from pick-pockets.
Despite Cataluña’s ongoing political conflict with the Spanish government and frequent riots, Barcelona is home to a wealthy range of different cultures and music festivals. It has become very touristy all year round which is a source of anguish for most the locals but I couldn’t recommend it more. It’d be impossible to go and not get something out of it, no matter what you go looking for. Another unmissable attraction is the Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art. Also, due to it’s growing multiculturalism and university, Barcelona has become vegetarian and vegan friendly, which is uncommon for the Spanish region, even now.
5. Japan
What isn’t there to do in Japan? I’ve wanted to go to Japan ever since learned what a capsule hotel was. Of course there’s so much more to see than itty-bitty hotel pods, such as Mount Fuji, Kiyomizu-Dera temple and national parks like Hokkaido and Chubu region. Tokyo in itself, is a big attraction.
A mirror of New York or London, Tokyo is familiar and yet anything but the same. I have always wanted to try out a ramen vending machine and visit its stunning contemporary art galleries like Mori Art Museum and Tokyo Metropolitan Teian art gallery.
Japan has such a rich and varied culture that its hard to say what is most appealing. To me, it’s nature and art, for others it’s the technology and consumerism of many of its cities. Culturally, I would say it’s best attractions are Okunoshima, “Rabbit Island”, Hirosaki Castle, its gourmet sushi restaurants like Sushi Yoshino and Kamata Sushitoku and the magical Ashikaga flower park, which looks like it could be straight out of a Studio Ghibli film.
Being one of the world’s leading pioneers in technology, Japanese culture does have its dark side. A lot of tourists visit Japan for other “attractions” like Hiroshima and Aokigahara “Suicide Forest”. Similar to many Western cultures, social media and the internet as a whole takes back what it gives and many young people are becoming vulnerable to its pressures.
Japan has a very low crime rate and a fairly introverted culture, the main social problem that plagues the locals isn’t social at all: people are lonely. That being said, from a traveller’s point of view, these problems are small in comparison to most countries.
Being the birthplace of two of my all-time favourite artists Ando Hiroshige and Katsushika Hokusai, even if it didn’t have its wealth of culture and natural beauty, I still wouldn’t be able to resist it.
6. Greece
Earlier this year I was planning to quit my day job and go island hopping round Greece with my boyfriend. The dream. It ended up not happening like most of this year’s travel plans and half of the country ended up setting on fire around the time I was hoping to go anyway. Despite this Greece has been in heart for nearly a year now, ever since I set my sights on it.
Travelling the idyllic Greek islands has been a popular choice for all sorts of travellers for decades now. It’s warm, beautiful and affordable. Due to Greece’s near-collapsed economy, like Spain, it has become heavily reliant on tourism as an income. The accommodation is cheap and varied, as well as the cuisine. It’s hard not to be tempted by the dirt cheap flight prices coming up to summer especially when you start googling and see the beaches in the peak of summer.
Like Hungary, I know very little of Greek culture, but I’ve already fallen in love with the idea of backpacking round Mykonos and Crete. Many people are tempted by the ancient Greek ruins and history of Athens or the buzzing night-club culture aimed at British tourists. I mostly want to get lost in the small towns and villages of Milos, the pink beach of Elafonisi, Crete and the Messalina lake, Kefalonia. The only problem would probably be staying alive on a vegan diet, considering lamb and feta are the main components of Greece’s gorgeous dishes.
7. Norway
Norway’s current main attraction for me, is my friend Ane, a native Norwegian I used to live with in England, now residing in Oslo with her partner. Being a Nordic country, Norway seems less like travelling and more like stepping into the game Skyrim. Though maybe with less wolf attacks.
While Norway is expensive to visit, it’s more a place one would visit for its “outdoorsy” stuff. This would be its famous ‘Fjords’, Northern lights and extreme sports winter sports like snowboarding and skiing rather than shopping or clubbing. It’s hard not to be sporty in Norway, there seems little else to do apart from appreciate the country’s vast beauty.
Trondheim, Norway’s third largest town is popular to visit, containing the Nidaros Cathedral and Nidelva River, alongside which are beautiful multi-coloured waterside houses on stilts. Husedalen “Waterfall” valley and Sognefjord are also popular, the latter being Norways largest glacial sea valley. Another attraction among hikers is Trolltunga, a tough climb to reach a cliff jutting out 700 metres horizontally in midair above lake Ringedalsvatnet.
While the price of living is higher, the quality of life is much better all round, Norway has few socio-economic struggles as a nation and is is one of the world’s leading countries for renewable energy and recycling.
Norwegian culture is conservative and quiet, but one of the most advanced and forward thinking in Europe. I find the language fascinating and would love to learn more than just the commands I had to learn to walk Ane’s dog, Dokki, though I doubt I’d have the opportunity to get much practice since most Norwegians are proficient, if not fluent in English.
9. Sri Lanka
Famed for its nature and diverse landscapes, Sri Lanka has had my heart since I was a child. What appeals to most is the animal sanctuaries and conservationist opportunities, as well as the numerous Buddhist ruins like Temples of the Tooth and Dambulla Cave Temple.
A main point of interest would be Sigiriya, the ruins of an ancient city and rock fortress nestled in forest and Yala National Park. The multitude of opportunities to work in animal conservation charities like the Kalametiya bird sanctuary and Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage are unmissable.
Other landmarks are Ella Rock, Little Adam’s Peak and Pidurangala Rock; Sri Lanka is famed for it its variety of climate, ranging from rainforest to desert and home to a multitude of beautiful geological formations.
Until 2009, Sri Lanka had been stuck in civil war for over 25 years. With newfound peace, it is considered very safe to travel. Theft and violent crime is nearly unheard of, but credit card fraud and harassment from street vendors or scammers is common. It’s recommended that poorly lit beaches like Negombo and Hikkaduwa are best avoided at night by single travellers. These areas considered more dangerous for women.
Colombo, the capital city, is a diamond of culture and colour. With over 70% of the Sri Lankan population being Buddhist, there are numerous sacred and world heritage sites all over Sri Lanka, providing opportunity to learn about Theravada Buddhism, directly translating to “School of Elders” and inspired by the oldest of Buddhist scriptures; the Tipitaka.
*Edit: I originally wrote this in December 2018 but didn’t publish it. While my knowledge on these topics has expanded, I thought it would be best to leave the original text relatively untouched and do a more updated version in the weeks to come.
Thanks for reading! 🙂
Travel bucket list 2019: where to go and why A childhood of travelling Mediterranean Spain has made me a sun baby and after a decade in England, I have some serious wanderlust.
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