#i know my mother also did it when she was a teenager (also in australia or maybe new zealand (?) but she just put it in the fridge and
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Forgive me those who'll find this AU rather strange
NEW DEMON SLAYER AU EXPLANATION
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FEMALE (Y/N) CHARACTER INTRODUCTION
NOTE:
Regular Font - Speaking in Japanese
Bold - Speaking in a different language
Italic - Thoughts / Thinking
The Concepts in this AU Includes:
Magic
Fantasy
Witch
Witchcraft
Supernatural
Modern Reader
Time Traveler
AU Explanation: You do not originate from the time of the Demon Slayers. In this Alternate Universe, you are a girl who was born in 2006 in Australia. Before your drug addicted mother died from an overdose, she never once mentioned the special secret that your family had unless it was just to play with you. As a child, you wished so bad to be the main character with cool superpowers, but of course as you matured you slowly let that fantasy go. But it wasn't until after you turned 13 when you randomly remembered that Witchcraft was indeed a thing and felt nothing but interest for it.
You don't know how or why you suddenly felt drawn to it, but you really didn't care. If anything, you were the only person who you knew didn't find Witchcraft that big of a deal. You thought that everyone should just accept it and find it normal. Your interest grew very slowly, and it was only until a few weeks after turning 14 when you decided in the middle of school that when you got home, you'd start your research on its history and it's differences. Then, when you felt like you were well educated and ready, you'd finally start to practice it.
But, of course, good timing wasn't on your side that often. In fact, nothing ever went as planned for you in your life. On that same day, you had gotten into yet another argument with your abusive, alcoholic father. Not to mention, it was right in front of your closest friend, Lydia. You trusted her with your thoughts and interests within Witchcraft and therefore, told her all about it.
And lucky for you, she grew an interest in it as well.
She happened to come home with you on that day as you both expected your father to be passed out on the floor during most of the time, but of course, on important days like this, your father just had to be awake and fully functioning. It wasn't even the alcohol that made him act so violently towards you, it was your plain existence, the alcohol would just make it even worse. Your guys' fight was one of the biggest you'd have yet again, and it got so heated to the point where you'd snatch Lydia's wrist and drag her to the nearest room for safety. The nearest room was your father's, you didn't care if he'd become even more mad at the fact that you were now violating his privacy, you just wanted to make sure that Lydia would be safe and you wouldn't become even more humiliated than you already were by getting a full on beating in front of her. If you had to knock your father out in front of her, then damn would it suck to be him.
After locking the door, you quickly started to look around for objects that you could defend yourselves with. You armed Lydia with two empty and thick bottles of alcohol and made it clear that if he dared approach her with the intention of harming her, then to smack the lights out of the man. The next place to look into was under his bed, and that was when you spotted a strange object. Despite the loud banging and yelling from outside of the room and feeling every bit of panic and fear that Lydia was feeling(As the poor Empath you were), you felt drawn to the object and didn't mind giving it a minute of your attention. The object really wasn't that strange, it shouldn't have been.
It was just strange for your brainless and ignorant father to have something that other actual, open-minded, intellectuals would also have laying all over the place.
It was a book. A really old, dusty and thick book. It had no title on it but it did have a name and date.
Greta Ricco
January 1, 1790
Ricco was your father's last name, but you always stuck with your mother's. Even though they both severely disappointed you as a daughter, you'd rather be with your narcissistic mother than with your hateful and ignorant and pitiful excuse of a human you were, as you'd say, cursed, to call your father.
'1790??' You thought to yourself in surprise,'How is this not in a museum?'
You gently flipped the book open and read it's first page
'Hmm, it's in Italian…' Good thing you decided to educate yourself on your Italian blood without any of your father's help as the independent girl you were
"This book belongs to all of the future descendants of the Ricco family. For the blood of our Witch ancestors runs through our veins"
Your father was a witch? But how come he'd never brought it up?
"The ------ in this book will only work for those who possess their blood. To whoever the owner is of this book, you are to do whatever you can to hide it from nonwitches"
Curious, (Y/n) flipped to the next page
"Sleeping"
Under the title were little paragraphs of words arranged in a poetic type of format. You continued to flip through its pages until one caught your eye.
"Time Stopping"
"(Y/n)"
You started to read the Italian texts in your mind.
"(Y/n)..."
For some reason, you felt intrigued by the strange poem. You basically poured your emotions into every word of it.
"(Y/n)!"
Lydia reached her hand out to you and before she was able to touch you, you had already finished reading the poem. And at the same time, the banging had stopped, and the whole house was once again silent. You looked up at Lydia, and she too was staring at the door, wondering why your father suddenly stopped trying to break in.
"Why did he stop?" Lydia asked
"I don't know…" You replied as you continued to look through the book
"Time Traveling"
'Eh?' You thought to yourself,'Time traveling?' Once again, you started to read the 'Poem' in your head
You read the words with emotion, not knowing what was awaiting you and your friend at the end of it. Once you finished off the last stanza, well, you couldn't really find the words to explain what had happened next. It was as if you and Lydia had teleported. You were just in your father's bedroom one second and in the next, a forest.
"What the fuck?!?!" Lydia exclaimed,"What the hell- Where- (Y/n) what just happened?! Weren't we just in your home?!??"
All you could do at that moment was just stare blankly at absolutely nothing with wide eyes. That one word that you couldn't read on the first page of the book was unable to be read because you never thought about its Italian translation. This wasn't some diary from a distant relative of yours, nor was it a book of poems. This was a book of spells. It can only explain why your family's witch bloodline was mentioned in it.
And from what you could assume from the first page, you were a witch since birth.
You guys couldn't go back home now. No matter how many times you had tried. You had just discovered your powers and were still clearly unable to control them.
To make a long story short, you and your friend eventually found your way around and got used to the new environment and Era. One day, you and your friend decide to use the Teleportation spell to admire Japan's beauty. There, you two met a teenager by the name: Kagaya Ubuyashiki. You three grew close, and eventually you told him about your secret. Luckily, he kept it to himself and you even promised to use your abilities to an advantage to survive one of the most dangerous Eras in Japan, that you two didn't even know you were currently living in. The Taisho Era.
If your father or the global pandemic wasn't going to kill you, the demons sure as hell would. Because you still couldn't master your witch abilities and knew that you had to be able to defend yourselves if you were to ever run into a demon, you guys decided to join the Demon Slayer Corps. It was the corps that Kagaya was currently leading. Years went by, and you and Lydia never aged mentally or physically. Your wounds from the day you discovered the spell book never healed.
But your skills grew, and you were ready to defeat demons with or without the help of magic. You started to view Kagaya as both a best friend and a father figure for you. You were there to welcome the rest of the Hashira after they earned their spots and because of your thoughtful, caring, bright and energetic personality, you got along with all of them very well. You and Lydia lived together in your own, huge mansion, that could only be accessed whenever you use the spell that you made just for it. It was only Kagaya, his daughters and the Hashira that knew about your and Lydia's secret.
You'd think that you would be the Pillar of Magic. But Lydia took that title, and instead, you were given the title of: the Pillar of Positivity. In this Alternate Universe, you are a 14 year old, iconic, Gen Z, Australian girl who is full of optimism, humor, hope, open-mindedness, confidence, love and compassion, power and badassery. Unlike Shinobu, your smiles and happiness are genuine, you are as happy as a person can get. In the Demon Slayer Corps, you are either known as the Pillar of Positivity or the Moon Pillar, inspired by the line:
"You must be the moon, because you shine even when it's dark."
Being (Y/n) in my Demon Slayer AU Includes:
-Being Asexual/Aromantic af
-Yet shamelessly flirting with your friends and strangers 24/7
-"(Y/n), you're such a tease~!!" Zenitsu would whine
-Sending letters written on beautiful rose petals that you got from your oversized roses from your oversized garden
-Mother mode activated a fair amount of times
-Pillar of Positivity😊
-Being able to make everyone laugh without having to harm anyone
-Everyone loves your cooking and baking and look forward to it all the time
-Being surprisingly strong for a girl your size
-Accidentally roasting Lydia and the trio sometimes
-ZENITSU PROTECTION SQUAD-
-Being just as close to Nezuko
-Teaching Tanjiro and Muichiro the most out of everyone else about the 21st century
-Everyone by now is used to your and Lydia's Gen Z asses
-Going on rides with the trio and Nezuko at night on your big, flying lion and cat(Future scenarios will include explanations as to how you have such majestic creatures)
-So much affection to give and that's why you and Mitsuri get along so much
-Besties with the Master😁
-Being goofy af
-You just can't get pissed off😊
-You curse people with no hesitation and any second chances
-Badass
-"Slash my face, I'll slash your neck."
-Most of your injuries can heal within a day(Will always depend on its severity)
-Though, you can control the speed of its regeneration
-Nobody except for Tanjiro and Lydia know about your hobby for singing and dancing
-You're also a really great artist(You mostly draw your friends🥺)
-Animal and plant whisperer
-Meditating with Tanjiro
-Always a clingy thing but once you're done being touchy you're DONE
-Great at acting and keeping secrets
-The mind fucker, prankster, you love to fuck with peoples minds
-The most clever and iconic of them all
-Will always be like everyone's mom/caretaker
-But at the same time very childish
-Everyone knows when you're joking or not
-Unless you're pulling a little prank
-Inappropriate jokes with Sanemi all the time
-Thinks it'll always be only up to you when it comes to saving and helping people
-Has a habit of head patting and ruffling other people's hair
-If they aint distracted by your beauty or your outfit(Author gave you quite the taste in fashion😌), then they'll be distracted by your eyes
-You've had Complete Heterochromia since you were seven from an injury that your father gave you
-So instead of having two, (E/c) eyes, only one of them remain a beautiful (E/c) shade while the other had turned into a beautiful blue shade
-But you've started lying and telling everyone that it was just because of your genes
-And they all believe you
-Except for Lydia, you two have been close since kindergarten(two years before you were injured)
-Thoughts you've had of either you or your friends:
'Okay, Pillar of Bitchiness…'
'I'm the Pillar of Dumbassery'
'I'm the Pillar of Badbitchery!'
'What are you? The Pillar of Negativity?'
'Ugh, we should be the Pillars of Cuteness'
-Supportive friend🥺
-Never fails at lifting the mood or other peoples moods no matter how bad things get
-If anything, most of the characters would want to come to you just for comfort(you're great at it😊)
-Perfectionist when something's under your responsibility
-Good at holding your laughter in(Most of the time at least)
-The entertainer of your friend group
-Demon fights are just full of Inosuke's laughter and you smirking
-Can set objects and people on fire with your mind
⚠️🚨ONE MANGA SPOILER RIGHT BELOW THIS TEXT🚨⚠️ ⚠️🚨ONE MANGA SPOILER RIGHT BELOW THIS TEXT🚨⚠️
-It was only after Muichiro's death when you finally became skilled at turning your emotions on and off
-Your guts will always tell you if someone's lying or not no matter what
-Its almost as if people can't even imagine you being in a bad mood
-You're an Empath
-Always spoiling your lovely friends
-In easy words, you're just very well-rounded and unrealistic as a human being😌
PLEASE READ BISSES:
I am not planning on making a whole story/fanfiction of this with full chapters. I do not take requests as well💗.
#demon slayer#demon slayer au#female reader#demon slayer x reader#kamado tanjirou#kamado nezuko#agatsuma zenitsu#hashibira inosuke#tomioka giyū#kocho shinobu#tsuyuri kanao#tokito muichiro#kanroji mitsuri#iguro obanai#tengen uzui#kyojuro rengoku#shinazugawa sanemi#shinazugawa genya#gyomei himejima#asexual reader
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Hello, Molly! I hope you're doing fine!!! I was wondering what would be Anthony's reaction to the moment Katie gets her braces off -Katie, as an insecure introvert teen as I was, surely must feel odd without them now and a bit anxious to what Anthony's reaction could be, even she was desperate to get them off Also, I couldn't help but image both of them attending to some event organised by Anthony's parents where they must wear this night dresses and elegant suits and Anthony be like "LOOK AT KATIE, THE GODDESS SHE IS AND HOW SUCH A LUCKY LAD AM I FOR HER GIVING ME THE TIME OF THE DAY!" and Katie's father, all seriousness and stuff, pretending not to love every second of it.
I hope any of this makes sense, because it was a lot of ideas in one single message! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hello!
I am doing fine! I have a day off work today because it's our show holiday. Regional Australia is weird in that when like... the county fair comes to town, we get a public holiday. I don't know it's... it is what it is.
I'm gonna get real with you, I was an insecure introverted teen who grew into an insecure introverted adult! So this Kate is kind of like... an homage to how I was in high school, I didn't have glasses yet but I did not know how to control the flyaway waviness of my hair, had no idea how to do make up and I was, the captain of my high school Jazz and concert bands. If you would like to see my senior portrait let me know and we can laugh about it together, It's quite hilarious actually. My ten year high school reunion is coming up in October and my high school best friend and I have decided to go, despite ourselves which is weird because last time I moved back to my hometown (I lived there for six months while I did my final dental school placement) I heard from the mother of a guy I went to school with that she'd heard I'd moved away and "Glown up" Which I'm not even sure I understand the meaning of but anyway. So yeah, I'm gonna go and continue to be deeply insecure about myself while my High school nemesis (A pediatric surgeon now) makes pointed comments about how I'm a "fake doctor."
ANYWAY! Enough about awkward teen Molly! et's talk about teenage Anthony and Kate!!!! And how cute they are! And how insecure and awkward it is to be a teenager!
Katie really wasn't sure why she hadn't told Anthony she was getting her braces off today. Maybe she wanted to surprise him, maybe she just didn't want to get his hopes up that she'd look any better in time for his parents' anniversary party. But still as she stared at herself in the mirror looking at her straight teeth it didn't seem real. She'd had them for 2 years and had gotten used to the small smile she had to do to hide the wires that ran over her teeth, used to the fact that she had to drink everything through a straw, the stupid elastic bands she had to take everywhere, the meticulous cleaning, and now, suddenly, she didn't have to do any of it. There was just the tiniest piece of wire on the back of her teeth and that was it. And weirdly, she felt more self conscious than ever. Because she had her braces off now, and she still didn't feel like the kind of girl who should be holding hands with Anthony Bridgerton.
She was nervous the entire car ride to his house. Ignoring Edwina chattering away beside her, ignoring the way Mary kept flitting her eyes to the rearview mirror checking on Katie.
"You look really pretty tonight, Katie." She said gently, her soft smile a little too astute for Katie's liking.
She scoffed. "Yep. Sure."
Mary sighed, "I bet Anthony will think so." Katie felt her stomach roll and her cheeks flush.
"He had better. Though he better keep his hands to himself. He can appreciate from a distance." Her dad scoffed irritably as the car pulled up. nerves fluttering in her stomach as they waited on the doorstep.
The door swung open suddenly, Anthony looking unfairly charming in his suit standing in front of them grinning as he recognised her family.
"Mr. Sheffield, it's nice to see you again, Sir" He said politely to her father first holding out his hand for a handshake. Her father took it briefly, his jaw set.
"Anthony."
"Mrs Sheffield, that's a very nice dress." Anthony smiled brightly at Mary a little charmingly. And Kate could see Mary trying not to coo.
"You're very sweet. You look very dapper tonight Anthony and look, your tie matches Katie's dress." She said, pushing Katie forward towards her boyfriend.
Anthony's eyes lit up when he saw her, his grin splitting his face in two as he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, his lips soft against hers.
"Hey, Katie." He whispered and then his brow furrowed confusedly, and it wasn't because Edwina said dryly I'll greet myself shall I? as her parents tugged her away.
"Hey! How come you didn't tell me it was braces off day today?! That's so exciting!" He said suddenly smiling brightly again. Katie forced herself to shrug.
"Surprise?" She said a little weakly as nerves still fluttered in her stomach, adjusting her glasses nervously. "Do I look pretty now?" She said, mostly as a joke though the question had rattled around in her brain all afternoon. And she'd expected Anthony to laugh but he didn't. Instead his face dropped into a serious frown, his eyes pinning her in place, his voice a quiet whisper.
"I always thought you were beautiful." And maybe it was stupid but her heart felt like it stopped, a shy smile fighting its way onto her face as she touched her lips to his.
"You have my favourite smile." He said a little sheepishly, his ears tinged a bit pink. Katie laughed.
"Well, I should hope so, Mary and my dad paid thousands of pounds for it."
Anthony shrugged, "Nah, it was good before too."
"Now I don't know this young lady Anthony, who is she?" A woman's voice interrupted them. A stern looking woman was regarding them carefully, Violet Bridgerton standing beside her Mary and her Dad watching curiously now. Anthony turned towards her with a smile on his face, his fingers interlocked with hers, squeezing tightly.
"Mrs Danbury, this is my girlfriend Katie. Isn't she beautiful? I'm crazy lucky she even knows who I am." He said happily, his chest puffing out a little proudly, even though his words made her cheeks burn.
"Hmm you certainly are that." Mrs Danbury said shrewdly, and if Katie didn't know any better she would have sworn she saw her Dad give Anthony a little nod of approval before turning back to Anthony's Dad.
#why are they so cuteeeeeeee?????#should I make them less cute?#a slamming screen door#teenage!kathony#kathony#anthony x kate#anthony bridgerton#kate sheffield#kate sharma#molly's asks and answers
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Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight
Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty
Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.
Word count: 5,600
Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK
Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)
This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!
The right person, the wrong time.
The right script, the wrong line.
The right poem, the wrong rhyme.
And a piece of you
That was never mine
K Towne Jr.
Chapter 8
The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.
When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.
Nush.
Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.
Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.
Kiss you.
Taste you.
Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.
Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.
“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.
Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.
The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.
“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.
“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”
“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.
She always looks beautiful.
“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.
As for that goddamn red lipstick…
It would leave a mark all around my-
“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.
“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.
Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”
“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.
“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”
The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.
“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”
“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.
Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”
“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.
“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.
Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.
With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”
Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”
“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.
Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.
Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.
The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.
Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.
“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.
“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”
“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”
Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.
Fuck, Nush.
If you only knew what you do to me.
“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.
“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.
“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”
You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”
Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.
“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”
“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.
The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.
Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.
I just wish you’d explore them with me.
“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.
Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!
For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?
White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.
“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”
Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.
“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.
“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”
“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”
Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”
“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”
✪✪✪✪✪
Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.
When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.
And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.
Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.
Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.
You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.
Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.
You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.
The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.
“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.
“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”
“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.
“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”
You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”
“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.
The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.
✪✪✪✪✪
His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.
Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.
His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.
As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.
So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.
The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.
The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”
Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?
Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.
Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.
AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.
One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.
Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.
He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.
There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.
The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,
“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.
Nush - what the fuck?
“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”
The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”
Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.
“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.
“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.
“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.
“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”
You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”
Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”
“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.
“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.
“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.
“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.
“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”
“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.
“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.
“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.
“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”
As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.
Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.
Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys
#josé pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#ppascaledit#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike#the mentalist#marcus pike x oc#marcus pike x oc reader#the mentalist fanfic
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Stray Kids Minho x fem!reader
Word count : who know?
Summary : He always visited you, but not for YOU. But as one day passes by, something happens at home.
Genre : Fluff.
Minho and I have been friends since........ forever.
It was back when I was just 3 years old when I had shifted to Korea to live there. I was walking down the street with my mom until I heard a distant ‘meow’. I was excited about hearing the sound of a cat, since I was still consumed in my child curiosity. I dragged my mom towards it to find an injured cat lying near a dustbin. Its coat was dirty and small patches of blood showed that it went in a fight.
My young self found it heartbreaking and I begged my mom to take care of it. Of course my mom disagreed to take it back home, but we took care of it from where it was lying down. My mom and I had rushed to get a first aid kit and some cat food and when we returned, the cat seemed to be sleeping. Taking that as an advantage, we patched the cat up and when it woke up, we gave it some food. After a while we found out that it was a girl.
The cat got attached to us really fast, and it seemed to win both my mother’s and my heart. We must have stayed there till late afternoon, but we didn’t care. I and mom were in the middle of playing with the cat when a voice came in,
“Hwan....?”
I looked around to see a boy of my age who looked shocked. He ignored us and rushed towards the cat. As he ran, the cat also went towards him, like it was natural. My young self got jealous at this action,
“Hey! Thats my kitty!”.
The boy didn’t even listen to me as he examined the cat. He looked up at me after a whole minute.
“Who are you?”, he asked.
“I’m Y/N. And thats my kitty”, I said as I approached the cat.
The boy stepped back with the cat in his hands,
“Sorry, but she is mine. She likes roaming outside so I let her out in the early mornings. I didn’t know that she got injured, thank you for taking care of her. Im really thankful”, the boy said as he looked down shyly.
I frowned at him, “Who are you?”.
“Lee Minho. The cat’s name is Hwan”, he replied.
“What does Hwan mean?”, I asked curiously.
“Shining and bright”.
.......And that was how Minho became my best friend.
19 years later, he was a butt. Not like he wasn’t throughout the years. It was just that he had the audacity to come to my home without permission, and he didn’t even come for ME. The day after meeting him, mom and I had decided to take in a few other street cats to help them. This made Minho visit us almost every day. Of course we got close, but it was his adoration for my cats that he kept coming back. But it started becoming lonely after he went to practice for his dance and got recruited as a backup dancer for BTS. Not later, he got to go in a group called Stray Kids.
It got empty because of him, but he tried to visit his hometown as much as he could. And when that happened, he would bring his three cats to my house to play with MY cats. He would always be mesmerised by them, and would barely put his attention on me.
Right now was one of the moments that he had come to my house.
A knock had come from my door. I went to open it and found a familiar face. It was Minho, with Soonie, Doongie and Dori trailing behind him.
“Where are my little kitties?”, He said with excitement as he rubbed his hands and entered my house.
I looked at him bewildered, since still after so many years, I never got used to his sudden appearance. What shocked me more was that I hadn’t even seen him for the past year. And now he came barging into my home without saying anything.
What a butt...
“How was...... Australia?”, I asked softly.
“It was fun. We had successful concerts and met a lot of fans. Chan and Felix led us around showing some of the places they knew and even met their families. Yeah, it was..... fun”, he stumbled slightly as the cats piled up on him.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at his struggling figure as 7 cats kept climbing on him. I went in to help and brought down some cats. None cooperated with me except for Doongie. Doongie was like the moody middle child, and I was the favourite aunt. We fit together perfectly and Minho was jealous every time he saw us together.
“Give me back my Doongie”, he said as he still continued to struggle with the cats.
“Lol, no”, I answered easily as I picked up Doongie and went to the kitchen to bring some cat food.
We heard the intense meowing from the cats as they fought over Minho while me and Doongie were chilling in the kitchen to get some food. When I finally brought out the food, the cats left Minho and came to eat the food. While they ate, Minho came and sat beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. It would have been awkward, if we weren’t best friends. But sadly we were very close. At this point I knew everything about him, and that was why I never complained about him. It was his way of loving me that he showed love to my pets.
“How have you been?”, Minho asked as he took a video of the cats from his phone.
“Ugh, fine. Just studying and studying and studying. Other then that, I miss you”, I slowly whispered.
“Its good to know that I’m not the only one who misses you. Like I miss the cats AND YOU. Like.... why?”, he whined.
I laughed at him, “It happens when you have a heart”.
He gave me a glare, a glare that I got immune to throughout the years. “I have such a big heart. Touch me”.
He lifted my hand and put it on his chest. What all I got was muscles and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Stop flexing your muscles, Lee Minho”.
He joined me laughing and then looked at me, “You look different. Why?”
“Perhaps because you haven’t seen me for a year. You know, people change in a year”, I replied as I looked back at him.
“And not like you haven’t changed too. Like look at that jawline, man. And that flawless skin. Lemme touch it”, I continued as I brought my hands to his face and squished them.
His skin was soft under my finger and I couldn’t help but give his cheeks a kiss. I saw a blush appear on his face and I laughed at him. He blushed harder when he realised that he was blushing. Minho brought his hands to my wrists and pulled them away. He glared at me and rubbed his numb cheeks.
“Oh cmon, you’re so cute”, I cooed at him.
“No. You are cuter”, he countered back as he pinched my cheeks.
“Thats right, you ugly”, I laughed and looked at him.
“.....Why are you becoming like me?”
“You’re contagious, my dude”, I said as I started playing with his hair.
Minho scoffed under his breath but leaned into my touch. I braided his hair, then removed it, then braided it, then removed it. He like it since I was also massaging his head.
“Would you like coming to the tour with me?”, Minho suddenly proposed out of the blue.
I stopped braiding and looked at him,
“Nah, I don’t think I can”
“But I want to be with you”
“Who will take care of the cats?”
“Mom”
“I’ll be a nuisance to you”
“But im tired of not living with you”
“What do you mean?”
“I like you, ya’ moron”.
Wha......?
Did he just- Did he just confess?
“It what way?”, I asked suddenly.
“In that way that I wanna cuddle with you”, he replied back with no hesitation.
It was so sudden. Something so out of the blue naturally shocked me. I never even dreamed that he liked me back. Yes, I said ‘back’. It wasn’t easy to keep my feeling for so many years. There was so much tension that I brought in our past years, but it never came to my head that he could also be the one who could bring up the tension. Having a crush on Lee Minho was tough. He was famous amongst the girls, though he was oblivious, but what made it more tough was that now he was a worldwide famous idol. I couldn’t help but suppress those feeling but rather put the feeling of pure friendship in front of us. As the years went, I got used to it and never thought of it much.
But this time, today, now, I felt like the helpless teenager in love. The feelings that I kept buried down overflowed my heart and I couldn’t help but caress his face. My eyes were filled with love and my body was relaxed.
“Isn’t it funny how I like you back too?”, I said under my breath as I leaned in.
“It is. Completely unexpected”, he replied as he leaned in too.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No, not this time”.
So that was how that 7 cats saw us flirting with each other for the rest of the day.
Lol, I had a boyfriend now.
#skz#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#stray kids ff#minho#Lee Minho#minho x reader#lee know#lino x reader#kpop#fanfic#Bang Chan#Lee minho#Seo Changbin#Hwang Hyunjin#Han Jisung#Lee Felix#Kin Seungmin#Yang Jeongin
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Once you get a taste
Pairing: Jennie x Rosé
Prompt: Rosé whispers a secret Jennie finds herself quite interested in. Under the weight of soft music, dim lights, and a few glasses of soju, the groupmates get to know each other better.
Warnings: Slight mature content
(cr: pinterest)
“…And the guy asked me to jump. In the middle of the photoshoot. In eight-inch heels. Wearing jewelry four men with surgical gloves had just put around my neck as it was, I don’t know, made of crystal or something. I swear I don’t know who looked at the photographer with the most ‘fuck no’ expression: me or them”.
Jennie chuckles vividly, titling her head back in a sharp motion.
Slightly tipsy Rosé is always a wonder.
They are celebrating their first free day after long months of work in the dorm, just the two of them. Lisa had taken advantage of the relieving weekend to see her parents and Jisoo had done exactly the same, eager to spend time with her nephew to teach him invaluable lessons, she had claimed. Jennie had wondered faintly whether she was talking about true values or some secret curse words, and she had quickly decided that her friend intended to do both.
The big house seemed somehow empty without the loudest members, but Rosé’s casual singing and their short conversations, the ones that have flowed between them swiftly since the moment they met, were enough for the upbeat atmosphere of the place to remain strong.
Their recent success was of course of great help. The boost they received both from fans and critics gave the group a warm shower of confidence that made their smiles grow larger still every now and then. They worked hard, and their efforts did not get wasted.
That is the reason, mainly, why Jennie and Rosé are currently sitting on a soft mattress on the floor, soju glasses filling and emptying on the sturdy coffee table just in front of them, both girls laughing openly at shared stories that make their chests spurt affection.
“So, did you jump?” Jennie asks then, happy tears prickling at the corner of her sharp eyes, leaning forward intentionally and letting her shoulder bump against her groupmate’s.
“Fuck no, I- don’t laugh! It was difficult!”
Jennie breaks out laughing again, squeezing the glass she’s holding on her left hand and using the other to grasp Rosé’s arm as if to anchor herself. The silver-haired girl follows suit, sharing the shortest girl’s pure excitement, somewhat glad to be the source of such demonstration of contentment.
“God. I would’ve loved to be there. Remind me to go with you to your next photoshoot”.
Rosé keeps smiling, now her expressive eyes growing softer.
“I will”.
There is a moment of comfortable silence filled by the deep beat of a slow, electric song. The girls have decided to give in their indie cravings just half an hour ago, and now the chosen playlist is serving as an enjoyable background for their encounter.
“I like that”, Rosé comments softly, turning her head up to stare at the thousand colorful dots tracing patterns on the ceiling.
“A fan gift. One of my favorites. I use it when I can’t sleep”.
The silver-haired girl admires the light for a while longer, feeling a fuzzy sensation crawling up in her stomach.
She feels so, so fitting.
She turns around to talk to her friend, and she is kind of surprised to find the brunette her staring mutely into her eyes. Jennie’s cat-like stare burns somehow, caressing her features tenderly.
Something flashes in her coffee gaze, a bright emotion that catches Rosé out of guard, like a soft pang making her heartbeat pick up.
Just as it comes, it leaves quickly, and Jennie smiles lazily again.
“You have your own galaxy”, Rosé jokes weakly, then, rushing to drown the soju that still waits in her cup.
The shortest girl lets her hand run through her own silky dark locks still grinning, almost as if for herself, and reaching forward to catch the definitely too expensive bottle in front of her, she turns towards her friend almost as if on the verge of revealing a secret.
“It’s ours, now. Isn’t it, Rosie?”
Rosé might have as well chocked on her spit only by hearing Jennie’s low voice, but now, with alcohol dancing daringly through her veins, she merely blushes slightly before giggling in sudden joy.
“True”. The blonde watches Jennie’s delicate hands refilling both their glasses with a delicacy she firmly believes can only be inherited, and then lets her ears catch on the soft tune vibrating from the speakers. “How are you, by the way? I’m surprised you didn’t want to say home tonight”.
With home Rosé means home home, as in her mother’s home, and Jennie seems to understand perfectly.
“It seemed just right to stay here. I prefer it, sometimes. It’s familiar, too”.
The silver-haired hums in agreement, letting bold liquid run hot through her throat. “Me too. I love my parents, but this also feels right. After all we went through… well…” she looks down at her glass and then lets her coffee gaze meet Jennie’s intense stare. “I don’t know. I like spending time with you”.
“Almost like sisters…” Jennie comments, but her voice comes out a bit too breathy to appear certain. It’s more like a question, exploring, like her hand inching closer Rose’s thigh.
The tallest girl licks her lips unintentionally, her body sinking deeper against the feet of the couch.
“Yes, but… Not quite, really”, there is a tense pause, and Rosé can almost hear the faint beat growing deeper, “right”?
Jennie hums in a sound that comes closer to a purr and finally lets her fingertips press against Rose´s exposed skin.
The tallest girl suppresses a surprising shiver as she wonders whether she should have worn a longer dress.
Or a shorter one.
“Not quite”, the brunette agrees, still staring at her friend with a sparkling stare.
Rosé swallows, feeling a hot flush heating up her neck, and rushes to drink a bit more of the transparent beverage already making her limbs feel lighter.
There is no way, Rosé. Come on. This is fucking Jennie, dam it.
There is another pause. The dim lights change slowly, creating another pattern that becomes bluish. Jennie inhales deeply, feeling pleasantly warm, the fabric of her simple white shirt sticking against her collarbones, and she takes another sip before analyzing her friend’s features again.
Gorgeous, she thinks, and lets her fingers caress a bit more of the tender skin of her thigh.
“Do you miss Australia, Rosie?”
The silver-haired girl tilts her head as if pulled away from her own thoughts. She looks at Jennie with pensive eyes and a cute pout drawing on her reddened lips.
“A bit… some things”, she whispers.
Jennie catches the sound of one of her favorite songs. Rose’s scent flowery grows somehow stronger, dazzling.
“Like what?” the brunette asks.
Rosé squirms almost imperceptibly. A thought, an unwanted one crosses her mind immediately. She scrunches her nose in an attempt to put it away, to find a reasonable answer to Jennie’s enquiries, but the soju has already started to occupy her mind with a pleasant yet undefeatable mist.
“Oh... Uh- the climate”, she blurts out, putting a strand of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture.
The shortest girl licks her lips as her sharp gaze turns predatory. She tries to soften the immediate smirk that reaches her mouth, observing as Rosé twitches in her place with terribly concealed nervousness.
“Oh, come on. You must miss something else. A country with such different culture… I’m sure there’s a call burning inside you. Tell me”, she speaks softly, trying to keep her tone light, “I can keep a secret”.
The silver-haired girl lets her wide gaze fall on her friend’s calm expression, trying to ignore the sneaky fingers caressing up her upper thigh.
There is something that she has been missing, definitely. Something she was never courageous enough to bring up. Something that she has buried deep in the back of her mind to keep it there until her career is secure enough.
But Jennie’s cat eyes are still tracing her features in affectionate patience, and her nails are now scratching circles in her waist. She feels light, slightly dizzy, with alcohol warming up her cheeks comfortably. The night is stiffy and the bright shapes on the ceiling are so beautiful that she feels as if secluded, safe in the refugee they created whilst breaking in giggles.
She considers that she can trust Jennie. There is very little she has heard the brunette judging other people for.
“I”, she starts with a cough, “There is something. Back in Australia, when I was still a teenager I had this… friend. Female friend”.
Jennie hums as pure amusement begins to dance in her stare.
“We would… you know. Just… explore… each other”.
“Oh”, the brunette murmurs, and Rosé turns to face her eyes in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. The fingertips caressing her waist move to her left hipbone. It feels nice.
Jennie’s expression, rather than showing disgust, drips interest as she tilts her head softly. When her light-brown hair falls onto her shoulder, the pale expanse of her neck is displayed like a prize. The tallest girl needs to remind herself that she doesn’t do it in purpose.
“Yeah. It was… fun”
The brunette snorts lightly. Rosé sips onto her glass once again.
“I bet it was, darling. I thought you were a church girl, though”.
Rosé, suddenly animated both by her friend’s heady voice and the liquid burning through her veins breaks in a slow smirk.
Jennie licks her lips again, gazing into enticing red.
“Yeah… where do you think I met her?”
Jennie gasps slightly before letting out a surprised chuckle. It sounds deep and satisfied, and it mixes perfectly with the slow beat playing in the room.
“My, my, Rosie. Aren’t you… risky?”
Rosé shrugs, smiling in sudden pride. She feels Jennie’s hand twitching against her hips, so she decides to caress the length of her arm in return.
“I don’t know. It was quite natural. Then I got here and… well. It’s not like I could continue”.
There is a moment of silence that, although not uncomfortable, is suddenly charged with a shift in the air. It gets hotter. The lights turn red and purple. Rosé’s heartbeat starts to gain speed against her chest, as now unrepressed memories of playtime hours with her childhood friend swirl in her hazy mind.
“So you’ve never made out with any of the other trainees back when we were living all together?”
Rosé stares at Jennie almost as if confused. Her blunt nails trace the path marked by the brunette’s veins. She feels the way her touch raises goosebumps.
“Huh, no… did… you?”
Jennie’s eyes burn into Rose’s coffee stare.
“No. As a matter of fact…” she is showing off that damn smirk and the tallest girl can barely hold it together, “I’ve never kissed a girl. I’m curious”.
Rosé makes an effort not to squeeze her thighs together. She sees how Jennie’s pupils grow darker, wider, more cat-like than ever. She is enjoying herself openly; everything from her bold body language and the way her fingers run through her friend’s inner thighs makes wild desire bloom in the silver-haired girl’s stomach.
In any other situation, Rosé would be blushing madly, making her way out of the room hastily.
At that moment, with the heavy atmosphere attaching hypnotically against her skin, she decides that she might as well give Jennie what she seems to be asking for.
“Oh, it’s wonderful”, she plays, smothering her voice in a very appetizing tone, “soft and sexy. Very feminine”, she lets the warm pads of her touch run up her friend’s arms, sliding across her pointy shoulders.
“Rosie…” Jennie answers breathily, shinning with her pulse running high, “Shouldn’t you share with your unnie some of your vast knowledge? Seems only fair…”
She inches closer to her friend, her face tilted captivatingly, already letting her gaze fix on the tallest girl’s lips.
“Unnie, of course”, Rosé answers, and lets her worries drown in the alcohol blazing her blood, “Anything you’d like”.
And just like that, Jennie leans forwards to catch Rosé’s open mouth in a deep kiss.
It is immediately heated. The tallest girl’s warm, ragged breath invades the brunette’s space like a spell. A firm hand grasping her neck keeps her in place, and a slim arm wraps around her waist urgently.
In response, Jennie feels her own pulse palpitating against her eardrums. She lets her hand caress her friend’s collarbones before sliding them into her rich silver hair when the tallest girl angles her jaw differently.
The lights grow darker in a blissful moment and the brunette finds herself being guided by Rosés insistent indents. Her thighs come to trap Rose’s as she seeks comfort on the tallest girl’s lap. When the silver-haired girl sucks lightly on her lower lip, Jennie grinds down instinctively, a mewl-like sound bursting from her throat.
They both know that they should be thinking about their current situation further. It’s a thought shadowing the very, very back of their hazy minds, but it’s difficult to give it presence when the warmth of their bodies grows steadily in a boost of pure want.
Jennie has to gasp when Rosés plump lips descend lower, grazing her cheek, her chin, her jaw. Her fingers tangle in soft blonde hair as she tilts her head up to grant her more access, asking her silently to comply with the deep desire that has just born low in her stomach.
Rosé does not need to be told twice. She runs her mouth down her friend’s throat, delighting in her expensive scent, running blunt nails through luscious thighs.
“Oh”, Jennie murmurs, and it’s enough for the blonde’s foggy mind to find some clearance.
She pulls away almost as if terrified, her movements put into a halt. She feels the tickles of panic and slight shame heating up her cheeks.
In exchange, the brunette opens her eyes lazily, revealing a stern expression behind her sharp eyes, her mouth curling downwards in visible annoyance.
Rosé is about to beg for forgiveness, but Jennie speaks first.
“What’s going on?” she asks, her hand pressing against the tallest girl’s nape, “Thought you were going to be my teacher”, she adds then, her voice searching for a lower, much more suggestive tone.
It takes the blonde two seconds to catch on with the reality that Jennie wants this, too. Very much so, given by the way her hips grind down again, almost as if on their own accord.
Rosé smiles, then, slow, and dangerous, feeling the last shreds of the self-control she was so desperately holding into getting looser in her chest. Her hands inch forwards, nails slipping under the hem of the brunette’s shorts. She looks up at her with an analyzing stare, delighting on Jennie’s compliant expression.
“Well, of course”, she answers, her words coming breathier as her wide eyes reflect a playful darkness, “but I must warn you, this might be a long lesson, unnie”.
Jennie finds herself chuckling lowly, closing her eyes as Rosé’s teeth run just sharp enough against her shoulder.
“Of course”, she lets out, and forces herself to choke a whining sound when the blonde tongues her stuttering pulse point, “I’ll be a good student”.
Rosé just smiles widely before pulling the shortest girl down for another toe-curling kiss.
Jennie turns out to be quite a brilliant student, indeed.
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Fifteen Years Later
Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader
Summary: Set fifteen years after the twins from “I Need You” were born, the Hood children discover just how outlandish some fan theories are
Warnings: Swearing, fan theories
Requested: Nope
A/N: Yeah so this is inspired by discovering some of the theories people had about louis’ son after he was born and I missed this universe so thought it would be fun to add a little more to it. It is technically a Calum x reader fic but it’s mainly just about the kids, but I hope you guys enjoy! As always please remember to let me know what you think - send me asks, reblog and comment, hearing your responses always makes my day a little better and makes me want to keep writing :) and also please don’t take this too seriously, this fic is just a bit of fun, please don’t attack me for it or somethin
“Hey, can I come in?” Maia didn’t wait for Leo to respond before she sauntered into his room and flopped down onto his bed.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Leo said, rolling his eyes a little, making another edit to his essay. “What’s up?”
“I’m bored,” Maia shrugged, pulling out her phone.
“And it’s up to me to entertain you?” Leo questioned, swivelling his chair around to look at his twin with raised eyebrows.
“That’s your job as my dear older brother,” Maia confirmed with a cheesy grin directed towards him.
“I thought twenty seven minutes didn’t count as being older than you?” Leo mused, turning his chair back around so that he could return to work on his homework.
“It does when it’s convenient to me.”
“Nowhere in my job description does it say that I have to entertain you.”
“Arsehole.”
“Bitch.”
Silence fell between the twins as the two of them went about their separate activities - Leo doing his best to finish his homework, Maia scrolling aimlessly on her phone.
The two of them hadn’t shared a room in years. They had moved back to Australia when their mother found out that she was pregnant with their younger sister, Sophie, their parents having wanted to be nearer their own families for the birth of their fourth child.
Leo and Maia had been five when Sophie was born, and they had spent so much of their lives up until that moment being practically attached to the hip that they resented their parents a little for splitting them up.
So it was logical when their parents had their fifth child, Kara, two years later, that Maia and Leo would room together again.
The Hoods moved again when the twins were thirteen, Theodore was eleven, Sophie eight and Kara six, into the house that they still lived in now, with each child having their own room at last.
Calum had taken a lot of time away from the band in recent years, choosing to spend more time with his family.
It had been his idea to move house, understanding that as much as the twins were still still rather inseparable, they did need their own space as they grew into their teenage years. So he had spent months working on the house for them, setting up all of the children’s rooms exactly as they wished, with much help from his best friends, who had also moved back to Australia a few years prior.
And yet it was hardly uncommon to find Maia in Leo’s room - he had gotten first pick of the bedrooms on account of being the eldest, much to Maia’s distaste. It wasn’t that Leo’s room was the biggest of the childrens - no, he had allowed Maia to have the largest room, but it was the placing of it that sparked so much jealousy between the twins.
It was the room that had the best view, overlooking both the garden, which, since moving in, Y/N had spent so long tending to and making it look beautiful.
“Oh my God!”
“What’s happened?” Leo asked in alarm, not expecting Maia’s outcry. His twin began to laugh.
“Come look at this!”
“What is it?” Leo asked again, rolling his chair across the room, away from his desk and towards the bed to have a look at Maia’s phone screen.
“Fan theories.”
“Fan theories?” Leo repeated, furrowing his brow. “Why’s that so amazing?”
“Because they’re about Dad!”
“What?” Leo gasped, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Can I borrow your computer?” She asked, already leaping off of his bed towards the laptop on Leo’s desk and opening it, copying the web address that she had been scrolling through on her phone.
“You’ve found some 5sos fan theories?” Leo cackled, moving his chair back in front of his desk as they waited for the website to load.
“They’re insane, as well.”
The twins lapsed into silence as they began to read through the blog posts together, occasionally laughing at some of the more outlandish proposals being made.
Finally, Leo spoke, leaning back a little in his chair with a slight frown on his face.
“So… they think that Dad is actually with Uncle Ash, and that Mum and Aunt Kaykay are just, what - beards?” Leo shot a questioning look to Maia, whose expression remained gleeful as she nodded.
“That seems to be the case, yeah.”
“So… what’s their theory about us?”
“Us?”
“Well… do they think that we’re actually adopted by Dad and Uncle Ash or what? Because there are definitely plenty of photos released of Mum pregnant - especially when she was having Kara,” Leo pointed out.
There was a knock on Leo’s door.
“Yeah?” He called, the door opening to reveal Theodore, his head still buried in a book.
“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, eyes still intently focused on the pages in front of him.
“Theo - come look at this.”
“I’m busy,” he denied, already beginning to walk away.
“You’ll find it funny!” Maia insisted, grinning over at Leo who rolled his eyes affectionately at their brother’s actions.
“Doubtful - your sense of humour sucks,” Theodore countered, already halfway down the hallway and about to go downstairs.
“Hey!”
“It’s food time,” Theodore repeated, at last looking up from his book, back down the hallway at his siblings, his expression looking as though he was attempting not to burst into laughter at the look of indignation on Maia’s face.
He didn’t wait for more of a response from her, however, before turning and walking downstairs to where the twins could now hear the sounds of their other family members clattering around in the kitchen and their father singing along to the music playing.
“Hey!” Leo protested when Maia huffed in response to Theodore’s attitude and grabbed her twin’s laptop, slamming it closed and taking it with her downstairs.
Leo gave an exhausted sigh and shook his head before slowly standing up and stretching, following his younger siblings.
The usual chaos greeted Leo as he entered into the kitchen.
Sophie was skipping around laying the table for food, with Kara following her, gripping the knives and forks tightly and looking rather serious as she did so. Theodore still had his head buried in his book but was, at the same time, reaching up into the cabinet nearby the fridge and getting out enough glasses for everyone.
Maia still had Leo’s laptop in hand and was attempting to get the attention of their parents who were stood by the stove, Y/N cooking and Calum leaning against the counter next to it, a grin on his face as he said something to make his wife laugh.
“Hey - you know the rules, Maia, no gadgets at the table,” Y/N said, finally catching sight of Maia, who had given up her attempts and had slouched into a seat, placing Leo’s laptop on the plate in front of her and pouting.
“That’s not even your laptop,” Calum pointed out, laughing as he crossed the room to place a kiss on the top of his eldest daughters head. “How was your day - you okay?” He added gently.
“Fine - I wanted to ask you two something,” she explained.
“Is it what you were trying to show me?” Theodore piped up from the other side of the room, where Kara was now attempting to help him sort out the drinks for everyone.
“Now you’re interested,” Maia huffed, opening up the laptop.
Calum sat in the chair beside her, looking attentively at the screen, always willing to take time to involve himself in his children’s lives when they gave him the opportunity, eager to listen to whatever it was that they were currently interested in.
“Can’t it wait, sweetheart - food’s ready.” Y/N said, bringing over the food and placing it in the centre of the table, fixing Calum with a look that had him smiling guiltily at her.
“No, this is important!” Maia insisted, ever stubborn and determined to get her way.
“Alright,” Y/N sighed, though it was clear to everyone in the room that she was trying her hardest to suppress her laughter. “What is it?”
“When were you going to tell us that you’re a beard to hide Uncle Ashton and Dad being together?” Maia questioned shortly, her lips twitching at the edges in her best attempt to maintain a poker face.
Calum choked on the water he had just taken a drink of.
“What’s a beard?” Kara asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at her parents curiously.
Neither of them answered, Y/N too busy laughing and Calum attempting to collect himself.
There was a smirk on Maia’s face as she, too, looked between her parents.
Sophie was looking equally confused by Maia’s term and even Theodore had looked up from his book to watch the exchange, mild interest on his face.
“What is it?” Kara repeated, looking over to Leo instead, desperate to understand the conversation.
“Maia’s just being silly, K, don’t worry,” Leo assured his youngest sister, sitting down at the table and Kara immediately climbed up onto the chair beside her.
“But what does it mean?”
“Maia’s suggesting that I’m only with Dad to cover up that Dad’s actually with Uncle Ash,” Y/N explained, still grinning to herself at the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. Calum had also begun to chuckle along, his eyes crinkled as he focused on the screen of Leo’s laptop.
“Why would you do that?” Sophie asked, taking the chair beside Kara, swinging her legs under the table as she waited for everyone else to join them sitting down so that food could be served.
“Are you?” Kara questioned in confusion.
“No, sweetheart,” Y/N said and met Calum’s eyes, the two of them grinning at each other. “Just some of Dad’s fans like the idea of him dating Uncle Ash-”
“Or Uncle Mike or Luke,” Calum interrupted knowledgeably.
“Yeah exactly - a lot of it was just about the idea of them being together or just their friendship but there are some occasions where the theories… go beyond that,” Y/N explained, evidently picking her words carefully.
“So you didn’t just have us all for PR?” Leo asked, feigning surprise.
“Of course we didn’t,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.
“It’s been a while since I’ve looked at fan theories,” Calum said, a certain kind of affection in his voice. “Were you looking at the extreme theories?” He asked, looking interestedly at his daughter.
“They seemed pretty serious that you and Uncle Ash were secretly together - they reckon that you and Mum staged all the photos from when you were kids to make it seem like you had been together for that long.”
“And apparently your management forced you to marry Mum, even though you didn’t want to - something about a morse code pattern that you tapped during an interview once asking for help,” Leo inputted.
“Yeah - I think I read that one as well. I remember being tweeted about it,” Calum confirmed reminiscently.
“You used to read fan theories?”
“Yeah - out of curiosity more than anything,” Calum shrugged.
“I used to get tweeted them a lot,” Y/N added. “Put the laptop away, Maia? Food’s going to go cold.”
“And I’m hungry!” Sophie added, but her cheerful grin was still present.
“Tell Theodore to put his book away,” Maia huffed, annoyance in her voice and looking at Theodore who was sitting opposite her.
“Don’t call me that,” Theodore snapped in response, his eyes immediately flared with anger.
It wasn’t uncommon for Maia and Theodore to butt heads, especially over trivial things.
“Theo, put your book away - Maia, put Leo’s laptop away,” Calum sighed after catching Y/N’s eye.
“But you said you’d look!”
“I will - but after tea, alright?” Calum soothed his eldest daughter.
“Besides - we already know a lot of the more… absurd ones.”
“Like what?” Sophie asked eagerly, beginning to dish out the food now that everyone was present and ready to eat.
“He’s still reading!” Maia cut her sister off, pointing accusingly at Theodore, who did indeed still have his book laying open on his lap under the table, eyes trained on it.
“Snitch,” he muttered, but closed the book after receiving stern looks from both of his parents.
There was a satisfied smirk on Maia’s face as she relaxed in her chair again.
Leo caught her eye and rolled his own after catching the expression on his twin’s face.
“I’m confused,” Kara stated after a moment, her young face scrunched up as she stared down at her plate, looking as though she was trying to comprehend ideas way past the understanding that her eight years of age allowed her.
“About what?” Calum asked through a mouthful of food, rewarding him with a scolding look from Y/N that he responded to with a sheepish smile. Kara pointed at Maia, still frowning. “The theories?” Calum suggested before Maia could make some sort of snarky remark and Kara nodded.
“Why would you lie?”
“And why would you have ended up with five kids?” Theodore inputted.
“I read a theory that I got pregnant with someone else to force Calum to stay with me,” Y/N stated casually.
“What?” It was a communal cry of shock from all five children, staring at their mother in complete surprise, while Calum lapsed back into laughter.
“Yeah, some people thought that I got pregnant by someone else, told Calum that the twins were his and so he stayed with me out of duty.” Y/N said, a wry smile on her face, glancing over at her husband. “But that was from people who didn’t like me rather than anything else,” she added.
“What about the people who think Dad and Uncle Ash are together?” Theodore asked curiously, and Leo saw triumph cross Maia’s face at having piqued their brother’s interest.
“Well there are a lot of theories,” Calum said slowly.
“Some think that you guys are actually all adopted by the two of them,” Y/N said. “And that I must live in a shed outside or something to account for why I’m always here.”
“A shed!” Sophie shrieked, laughing and Kara joined in, though looking a little uncertain, just wanting to fit in with her older sister.
“Maybe not a shed precisely, Soph,” Calum laughed.
“But that’s the gist of it, yeah,” Y/N confirmed. “Oh my God!”
“What?”
“Cal - do you remember when Leo broke his arm?” Her eyes were sparkling with amusement and Calum’s eyes widened, his mouth splitting once again into a wide grin, throwing his head back.
“That was probably one of the most far fetched ones,” he agreed after having recovered a little.
“What about when I broke my arm?” Leo frowned, thinking back to when he was eight years old and had fallen funny during a football match, breaking his arm.
Calum had missed that match - having been called into the studio with Michael to get some recordings straightened out. When Y/N had called him in hysterics in the hospital waiting room, he had rushed straight there. Ashton, Luke and Michael had come along a little while afterwards with the other kids in tow - Ashton and Luke having been babysitting at the time.
“I don’t know if you guys remember - I don’t know why you would - but Ash caught the flu a few days after Leo broke his arm and I remember that there was a theory that I actually rushed off to the hospital to visit him and then management faked Leo’s broken arm to cover up that I was really there to see Ash.”
“They thought I faked having a broken arm?” Leo asked, blinking at his father and frowning.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“When the twins were first born, the same fans thought you two were dolls.”
“Dolls?” Maia repeated.
“Yep - obviously those nine months that I was pregnant with you had to be fake as I was supposedly ‘over-doing’ the pregnancy symptoms-” Y/N was cut off by Calum’s snort of laughter.
“I forgot that people said that.”
“Lucky you,” Y/N said drily. “And so when you were born there was no way that either of you two could be real - therefore you had to be dolls, made specifically to look like us two and made to look properly human.”
“But… we’re not dolls,” Leo pointed out.
“Maia’s got the personality of one,” Theodore mused.
Maia’s protests were lost under the sounds of Sophie and Kara’s giggles and Leo tried to stifle his own laughter, not wanting to aggravate his twin further.
“That’s enough, Theo,” Calum said, but he, too, looked like he was holding back chuckles. “It was something to do how you always looked the same in every photo, you were always positioned the same or something?” He looked to his wife for conformation who gave a shrug before nodding.
“Something like that.”
“We were babies - what were they expecting from us? Backflips or something?”
“I would’ve been so proud of you if you’d done backflips as a child,” Calum sighed. “As it stands, though…”
“Rude,” Maia huffed, but gave in and smiled at her father’s teasing jab.
“I can do a cartwheel!” Kara inputted, puffing up her chest proudly. “Sophie taught me!” She added, after looking over to find that Sophie was looking at her.
“And that’s why you’re my favourite,” Calum assured her.
This caused an outbreak of protests and grumbling from the other four children, all of whom looked greatly offended despite none of them really taking him at all seriously.
“I’m the eldest, surely I hold some form of special affection in your heart,” Leo complained.
“Eldest by twenty-seven minutes!”
“Those twenty-seven minutes are what hold me in higher standing!”
“You two were researching theories that you’re not really our children,” Calum pointed out. “Kara doesn’t know how the computers work.”
“I do!”
“That’s true - she can get onto Minecraft,” Theodore agreed. “Though it’s understandable you resent Maia and Leo, they are rather annoying at all times.”
“Hey, you weren’t the favourite either so don’t get all high and mighty on us.”
“Why aren’t I the favourite?” Sophie asked, looking genuinely distraught.
“Tell you what - whoever cleans up after tea will rise the ranks of favourite child.”
The effect of Calum’s words were immediate, Sophie, Maia and Leo springing to their feet to help out. Kara giggled as she watched her older siblings playfully fighting over who got to clear away Calum’s empty plate and Theodore rolled his eyes to himself, letting out a long-suffering sigh and picked up his book again.
“You know manipulating your children like this makes you a bad person, right?” Y/N asked as she watched the chaos in the room.
“Well of course it makes me sound like a bad person when you put it like that.”
The sounds of clattering dishes had attracted the attention of the dogs, two of which came bounding into the room, the youngest - a spaniel named Milo -still a puppy, who jumped around yapping at the children. The other dog - also a spaniel, named Bowie - instead came over to the table, licking the hand Kara stretched out for him before walking over to Theodore’s chair, silently begging for attention.
Theodore had always been the child that animals gravitated towards.
Almost absent-mindedly, he dropped a hand down to stroke Bowie’s head and a small smile appeared on his face, though his eyes remained fixedly on his book.
Duke entered the kitchen, age waring him down and making his movements slow. He attempted to bark but seemed a little too tired as he ambled his way over to the table, flopping down next to Calum’s chair.
Calum scooped up the small dog and placed him on his lap.
“Hey, old man.”
Y/N reached over to pet the elderly dog, a sad smile on her face.
“We’ve done alright, haven’t we?” She asked Calum quietly.
“Theo?” Kara’s voice was quiet from across the table.
“Yeah?”
“Will you read with me again tonight?” She sounded shy asking her brother. Y/N was momentarily distracted from Calum and looked at her two children, Kara looking at her older brother imploringly.
“Of course I will,” Theodore agreed, his voice low but kind and gentle in a way that it only sounded when speaking to his youngest sister or the dogs.
“Yeah - I think we did just fine - maybe not as interesting if half of those theories were true,” Calum said, moving one of his own hands off of Duke’s fur and cupping Y/N’s face gently.
She laughed a little at that.
“Maybe we’d be a little more interesting if they were true,” she agreed, smiling prettily up at him in the way that even now still brought a flutter to his chest.
“But I think we’ve done just fine, Nib.”
#calum hood#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood imagine#calum hood x reader#calum hood fanfic#calum hood fluff#calum hood x you#calum hood imagines#dad!Calum Hood#dad!AU#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer fanfiction#5 seconds of summer imagine#I Need You#Fifteen Years Later
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Ok, here it is. This is one of my all time favorite interviews. It doesn’t really contain anything new, and I am still convinced it has been translated before, but that is beside the point. He is so chatty, and I get the impression he was quite at ease with the interviewer, and he’s just and adorable dork. I gave up on trying to capture his “voice” pretty fast because it’s impossible. Maybe it’s because I know how he sounds when he speaks english, but he’s ... a bit of a hazard, in that he sounds dumb one minute and sophisticated the next, and some of the things he says are actually not translateable, so I just concentrated on trying to get what he says across and gave up on the how.
Interview with Richard Kruspe of Emigrate and Rammstein
by Marcus Schleutermann of Rock Hard Magazine, August 22, 2008
—-
Richard, where and in what kind of circumstances did you grow up?
Until I was seven I lived in a small village called Weisen. That was a beautiful childhood with alot of nature, cats and dogs and a big family with two siblings. Then the big break came unfortunately, with the divorce of my parents. My father was gone from one day to the next, and we moved in with my stepfather in Schwerin. We didn’t ge on at all. The situation between me and him escalated quite a bit and I often ran away from home quite often. Sometimes I slept on park benches or in a friend’s basement and was looked for by the police. When there was the chance to start an apprenticeship somewehre else I jumped on it right away and went to Hagenau. Since there was nothing there other than a big army base, I did nothing but spend two and a half years worth of sparetime playing guitar. Looking back, I have to say that my stepfather at least taught me basic discipline. I profit from that by now, because as a musician there is no outside obligation to sit down and compose every day.
Where would you most like to live?
At the moment, I live both in Berlin and in New York. I like that duality. New York has a unique energy that drives me. I never really warmed up to Berlin on the other hand. When I first came here, the negative attitude of the people here totally spooked me. It’s always a no at first. Apart from that it’s pretty cold here. But by now quite a few things have changed for the better, especially this refreshing multiculti-thing, which of course doesn't only work between germans and turks, but between all sorts of nationalities. I would most like to live in Cape Town. You have the mountains on one side and two oceans on the other. The people are open and friendly and there is a very beautiful light that is good for my mind. (I feel obligated to say that he uses the word «Gemüt» which could also mean mood or soul and kind of means all of those 3 things at once.) I can imagine that as a retirement retreat.
Were you more of nerd or a bruiser in school?
I think that goes without saying - quite a bit of a bruiser.
So you did end up in brawls now and then.
Certainly. At the age of 10 to 14 I got into situations all the time where I - lets say - could let loose physically. But when I started wrestling I learned how to chanel my aggressions. I trained 5 times a weekand had competitions on the weekends. Unfortunately I was way too offensive most of the time and had no patience while fighting. I wanted victory right away, like tyson.
Are your parents proud and of you?
I think my biological father is very proud of me. My mother always wanted something else for me, but by now my muscian’s life is okay for her. At the end of the day it doesn't matter what you do, as long as you are successful. Especially for the post-war generation of my parents materialistic value is still held above evrything.
So what does money mean to you?
Essentially, only the freedom to be able to do what I like to do. Money means independency to me most of all. The problem with that is of course that you get used to a certain level of luxury and lifestyle. When I earned the first bit of money with Rammstein I was in seventh heaven and thought I would never need more. With my two apartments in London and Berlin and the constant travelling I need a bit more nowadays.
How do you define success?
Success is relative. With Emigrate I got great reviews, sold a good number of albums worldwide and got releases in America and Australia. Therefore, I could assess my solo project as a success, but in comparison with Rammstein, who sell millions, Emigrate are small fry.
What was the most miserable job you ever had?
The worst job was window cleaner, because I suffer from vertigo a bit [laughs]. Initially I was a truckdriver, but I lost my license after an accident. After that the company deemed I was supposed to become a window cleaner and climb up the Schwerin television tower. No way! I just put up the ladder for them and told them: See you later! (He actually uses english for the see you later. More impactful, you see.) To get by, I made shoes myself and sold them. Espardrilles and the likes. That is funny, because I am actually not talented in crafts at all. But I am streetwise and inventive when it comes to survival. I always had to improvise to get by because I couldn't handle authority at all. As a teenager I apprenticed to be a cook/chef (Same word in german. Probably more a cook than a chef to be honest here.) That's a tough job going off the tough hours alone. Apart from that it gets quite hot by the stove after a while.
That is not that different with Rammstein’s pyro show.
Quite true, hahaha! I believe cooking and making music has so much in common anyway. I have always cooked without a recipe. I just take what is there and conjure up something delicious. Some things maybe don't fit that well in the beginning, but you learn that quite quickly and then you develop an intuitive sense. That is the same with composing.
What would have become of you, if you hadn’t become a musician?
Hm, good question. I would like to produce a band some time - so kinda switch to the other side. Other than that I love to write and could imagine screenwriting would be a suitable job for me.
Speaking of Hollywood, how about being before the camera? Are there characters you would have loved or love to play?
Two characters I find brilliant: Taxi Driver and Leon the Professional. And those gangster flicks are cool. Goodfellas and Reservoir Dogs for exemple.
So more the underdogs and the villains - not the heroes.
Yes, they just have more potential. After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic.
So, you’d undress for Playgirl?
Not anymore [laughs]. Although probably not before either. I do have a pretty easy going relationship with my body and run around naked in my apartment alot, but then I am not that exhibitionistic that I'd strip for some glossy magazine.
So you’re a at-home nudist.
Yeah, that's an east thing, I think. When I opened my apartment door in New York naked once when the door rang while I was in bed with my then wife, she was completely bewildered. The shameless ossis (east germans) and the prudish americans - that was a meeting of the worlds. [laughs]
Are you vain?
Unfortunately, yes. I'd like to be more above that because vanity is a negative quality that has something to do with insecurity and ego. I work on myself and as I got older I luckily developed a more casual attitude. At some point you start to accept the degredation of the body.
Theoretically you could counteract that with plastic surgery. How about an appointment with Nip/Tuck, hm?
That's not something for me, but I don't have anything against plastic surgery. If people are unhappy with their body and gain new self esteem and sense of life through an operation, they should go through with it. I do see a problem in the danger of it getting exorbitant and to develop some kind of addiction like with tattoos that goes far beyond the reasonable. The body won't go along with everythig after all, and such things as calf implants are pretty crazy.
Speaking of crazy, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
That must have been asking a woman to marry me two days after meeting her. She said yes, and the rest is history. (They are divorced at this point, as the article points out here - in brackets too.)
Cue: Woman: What type do you prefer?
Like almost everyone I do have some sort of type. You need a relationship that mirrors yourself and to develop. So in that sense you're looking for a partner that drives you forward in certain aspects. To have a good relationship you need to keep a balance of passion and friendship - if it's just one it will overturn at some point.
What do you think of groupies?
They just belong to it all. This symbiosis of star and groupie is like theater. The relationship between both has of course nothing to do with reality, and is just an illusion, but you shouldn't destroy that. I'm personally not really tempted by groupies because I like it when I have to fight for a woman. But I like the glamour their presence emenates.
Do you believe in god or reincarnation? Are you spiritaully inclined?
More and more. I don't believe in god in a church sense, but I'm a spiritual guy and believe in a form of justice; that the things we do come back to us in some way eventually. Karma, so to speak. I also have the slightly feminine habit of using astrology to understand people. I use it as a tool to decipher characters. Once you know how someone's house is build, it's easier to place their actions. To be clear: I don't mean horoscopes or such nonsense. There's alot of maths in astrology and you can't compare that with the usual star-sign pulp in TV programmes.
Could you live without television?
Nah. I have a huge beamer in my New York apartment's bedroom. I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]
Reading isn't your thing?
I used to read alot, but now I'm unfortunately too lazy for it most of the time. Even on the plane you get a monitor and a huge selection of movies since a while now. But I still have a good reading recommendation: The New York trilogy by Paul Auster.
What's the most important invention for human kind?
Each century has it's own big invention and right now that is clearly the internet. Before that it was electricity, which made everything else like the light bulb and the elctric guitar even possible.
To which era would you most like to travel if there was a time machine?
I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then.
Do you have a phobia?
Other than the aforementioned fear of heights I have a phobia of snakes.
When did you cry the last time?
Now you got me. That is a huge problem of mine because I just can't cry. I think that is a pity myself, because crying is an outlet with which you let grief go. Maybe that's why my music is so important to me, it's like my tear duct and helps me to live out my feelings.
——————-
- sorry for any spelling mistakes but I’m dyslexci and I can’t be bothered.
#i love this dork very much ok#what he says about gropies is 100% what this singer i used to know also said and it’s true and I believe it 100%#he is so predictable#paul auster of course what else#and then he wants to play wild west with the knights templar#i love him#struwwel translates#richard zk#richard z kruspe#rzk#rammstein
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full name: orion castillo
nicknames: ori, conejito (”little bunny” in spanish)
gender and pronouns: cis man, he / him.
age: thirty-eight.
date of birth: april 9, 1983.
hometown: chelmsford, england.
nationality: british born, cuban and american heritage.
religion: catholic.
sexual and romantic orientation: bisexual biromantic.
occupation: antique store assistant.
living arrangements: lives on his own.
languages spoken: english, spanish. (accent is a mess of english, american, cuban)
strange history: edith alby
TW: mental institution, domestic violence, attempted murder, mental instability
Orion’s mother left America to study mythology at a British university. It was there she met his father, also studying. The pair hit it off and eventually married, Orion wasn’t far behind.
The night Orion’s mother told his father they were having a baby she took him outside to star gaze, telling him the stories of the ancient Greeks above. He struggled to see what stars she was talking about, except for Orion’s belt - three stars perfectly lined up together. Just as they would be as a family.
When he was born Orion cried like nothing would ever be okay in the world. The nurses and doctors worried, but found nothing medically wrong. It wasn’t until Orion’s father nursed him by the window, pointing out Orion’s belt to the newborn did he seem to finally calm. The new parents felt the name Orion was fitting, as if he picked it out himself.
Life growing up in the UK had its ups and downs. He didn’t look or sound like the rest of the kids around him - his father was first generation Cuban-British, his mother was American. Sometimes there were fights in the school grounds, or out, some days he just skipped class entirely. Sometimes that was to flirt with the local girls school as they walked by his returning from sports at the nearby oval. If anything he would have thought of his childhood relatively normal, expected even. He did well in class despite his absences, he participated in sports and made friends who would invite him over to watch the latest movie on VCR. It was normal, at least in that aspect of life.
Home life was getting more and more destructive as Orion moved into his teen years. His father was becoming known for outbursts, whether anger or from distress. His mother would pretend all was okay; he was just having a ‘tantrum’ or a ‘funny day’. It was normal! Everyone had trouble sometimes. But sometimes when he was alone with his father he could hear him talking to someone, when the room was empty. He would say something to his father and the man would seem to be in another world entirely, not hearing a word that left his mouth.
Things got the worst when Orion was 15. His grandparents, his fathers parents, moved in. They used the excuse they were struggling with money, but they always seemed to have a wallet full of cash ready to go. He was starting to get pushed out of rooms, told to go study or sleep when he heard his father scream. They didn’t want him to see what was happening to the man. He was sick. Doctors were in and out of the house, sometimes they would help - for a few days the house would grow quiet. Then things would get bad again, and every time it seemed to be getting worse.
Orion spent a lot of time out of home, he would sleep at friends houses or wander the streets. It felt for a while there no one cared what happened to him, he was pushed out and forgotten. Most mothers would worry about their son being out all night, his mother didn’t even notice. She had a lot on her hands, he knows this now, but as a teenager sometimes you need that support.
Everything came to a breaking point when one night that he did happen to be home he was awoken by his mothers screams for help. He scrambled out of bed, launched through the house in nothing but his boxers, to find his father welding a knife trying to prove to everyone they were all dead. He doesn’t remember everything that follows, his mind protecting him from as much trauma as they can. All he knows is he put himself between his mother and the knife, tackling the man he had looked up to as a child.
Orion, his mother, and his father all ended up in hospital that night. His grandparents came home after a later dinner party in time before trauma turned to tragedy. Doctors submitted his father into the psych ward as his grip on reality slipped away completely. His mother would come to divorce his father, his grandparents taking care of the man moving him to a care facility where he remains today. His mother would take Orion across the sea to America where her family would welcome him.
Orion would struggle after what he went through, it wasn’t allowed to be talked about - his mother wanting to forget it ever happened. A fresh start, why would they dirty it up with what has been? She would go on to work at Pleasance library whilst Orion finished his education through home schooling. He was of age to get a job so filled his free time working small jobs around town, planning to build enough funds that at age 18 he would return home to England.
Except he never did. Ask him today and Orion will probably shrug as to why not, honestly he doesn’t quite know. There was something about this town, he didn’t really feel like leaving. Ever. Strange, no? In his time in Pleasance Orion has made friends, had good and bad relationships, lived a typical life. He moved into his own flat, even bought himself a cat to keep him company. His mother eventually retired and calls in on him far too often but he humours her, knowing she never meant him harm.
Over the years Orion has received letters from his family in England looking to update him on the state of his father but they go unanswered. Truthfully, he wishes they would stop, but part of him would appreciate that the line of contact always stayed open. It was just more annoying than welcoming when a letter showed up in his mailbox.
The last few years Orion has been working at For Keeps, the antique store. He likes working there because there is always something new in store, something he had never seen before or a story locked away inside. Orion liked to research the history behind them, filling his time with books at the library or fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looks online for further information. It feeds his curiosity, making it always annoying when he hits a dead end.
Life was normal, well as normal as you can get in this town (it’s always been a bit strange). Except, well, there was the fact he was seeing dead people. Well, Orion isn’t completely sure they’re ghosts. It’s not everywhere nor is it all the time. He first noticed it around five years ago, or maybe it was longer than that. They would just be there, doing their thing, when a figure that didn’t belong would join him. The ‘ghost’s don’t talk to him, not really. Sometimes they utter a word or shake their head but it’s never enough to know what they want from him. Occasionally they move his things, or things around the store, or follow him around as if they were breathing down his neck.
Orion would be more distressed over the idea of ghosts if it wasn’t a more comforting idea than what happened to his father. Ghosts meant he wasn’t insane, just haunted. That he could handle, they didn’t bother him enough for it to disrupt his life and sometimes the company was nice on a slow day. Of course he told literally no one of the things he was seeing, they would call him crazy and break his mothers heart. If she ever found out she would have him hospitalised and possibly end up there herself.
Telling himself it was ghosts felt easier than the fact he was of the same age his father was when he lost touch with reality, that the things his father saw could be appearing in front of his own eyes. To turn into the man he left behind so long ago was his worst nightmare - he may not have an exciting life but he had one he longed to hold on to. So ghosts were easy to handle, for now at least. Trauma from his father? He’ll pass on that one, even if it meant his own health was a risk.
Orion to his friends is just like his cat, he likes to find somewhere warm and settle. If he’s at the bar he’s in the corner booth with his drink, maybe a book in hand until company joins him. He likes to check out sometimes, go out to the lake with some camping gear and forget the worst exists. You’re lucky if he invites you along, he clearly doesn’t want to forget you.
Orion almost always is carrying a packet of cigarettes, a notebook or novel, a packet of gum and spare change. He walks most places so his car is collecting dust in its garage. He likes to cook for people, as long as you’re not a picky eater. He is often scribbling in his notebook, whether reminders or notes on something he’s researching, or poems no one is supposed to ever hear.
To most Orion is known as Ori, his parents are the only one who would call him conejito, which means ‘little bunny’.
OOC:
My name is Jen but for less confusion you can call me J. I’m 27, live in Australia, and have been on Tumblr for like... over 10 years. Love me.
He is open to all kinds of connections, I do not have a specific list so just hit me up to plots.
@phqextras
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Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt x Reader || Oneshot
Title: Twenty Years Separated and Getting Divorced
Notes:
This is inspired by Sweet Home Alabama, with Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas.
Plot: After 20 years you finally come back to the town you grew up in, which is now basically non-existent except for a couple ghost buildings and wild cows to find your husband and his family, who are the only ones crazy enough to still live there, and get your fucking divorce finalised.
Warnings: Swearing, divorce?
~~~
Hoyt sees me strolling up to the house before I even reach the porch. Our eyes meet, a short moment of nostalgia passes quickly- and World War 3 begins.
“Well, hi to you too! Just fabulous to see you, after… half a goddamn century.” Charlie gets up from his seat on the porch and now stands up to 5 feet taller than me… because he’s still on the god forsaken porch and I’m the ground. Goddamn, his ego’s still as big as that ridiculous hat that he’s wearing now. Since when is he sheriff? He didn’t even go to college- I know; I’ve been married to him since we were 18. “Fucking city slicker.”
My jaw falls open. City slicker?? “You know damn well I grew up right here, you two-bit drama queen. And I live in Alice Springs now. Maybe it ain’t your country but it is still butt crack nowhere, you old fucking coot!” After a second, I also say. “And I’m not even 50 years old yet, you asshole!”
“Pft.” He chews on something in his mouth, maybe his cheek, and sets his jaw. “You lived here, what? 20 years ago then? If you wanna get specific about it.” Okay, that’s better, more accurate at least, but I could’ve done without the attitude. “You lived somewhere else more than half your life- don’t go gettin’ excited and acting like you’re a local.”
I mean, going by that logic I’m a fuck-ton more southern then he is- Australia’s as southern as it gets without living in Antarctica. But I digress. We need to get this show on the road.
“I did not come all the way here to argue with you Charlie.” I roll my eyes and sigh deeply, stomping up the porch stairs to meet him at the top, scrunching up my shoulders and feeling slightly sick when he leans over the steps a moment later and spits thick brown shit into the dirt. Why is he always spitting? Why! If he has excess saliva like that, he should go get himself checked out! And if he’s chewing tobacco, then he fucking needs to stop! Restraining myself from saying so though by taking a deep breath as he straightens up again, I instead hold out the A4, manilla yellow envelope that encases our divorce papers - already signed by me, - to him… which he just looks at, of course. Difficult, ancient bastard. “I’ll pay!”
“Is that your way of askin’ for a divorce, honey bear?”
“Why, yes.” I smile, already feeling the relief of cutting ties from this man.
“Then I sweetly decline.” The smile is wiped off my face, and sketched onto his instead. He turns around and goes on into his home, letting the screen door slam shut hard behind him, too, after he gets in.
I sigh in frustration, close to a scream and stand there uselessly for a second before barging in after him and am about to yell for him to get back here, before a rustling sound alerts me to the door on my right and Luda Mae comes out of it. Closing it carefully shut behind her.
Immediately, my mood calms down considerably and I feel a startling, familiar warmth in my chest. The mood Charlie put me in just a second ago all but disappears seeing her. “Luda Mae!”
The moment she realises it’s me, she beams. “Oh, dear. I thought I heard you arguing outside with Hoyt, but I didn’t believe it!”
“Hoyt?” I blink, still smiling but in a confused way. Am I missing something?
“O-oh, I meant Charlie. Sorry, baby.”
After a tight hug we let go and assess each other.
I’m happy to see that she looks healthy. A little sweaty and tired, but she’s always been that way. It’s hard to not be, living here. It’s hot all day, every day - hell, they barely have winter in this part, -, and she’s never really been a summer kind of girl. I suggested to her a couple times that she could move away, but she always said that this is where their family had always lived- and they will always live here. Its where Charlie got it from.
I’m just getting to her eyes, and noticing of course immediately, the sad change in them from the last time I was here and forming a way to ask her if she’s okay when she tucks some grey hair behind her ear and asks me how I am. To be polite of course, I answer. Expecting to ask her the same right after.
“Aw, I’m doing just fine! Trying to get your stubborn son to give me a divorce, but apart from that life’s treating me well. I would love it if you could come visit me sometime in Australia, I have a guest bedroom where I picked the wallpaper and I just know you would love it. Soon as I looked at it, it was so you!” Her eyes brighten at the idea and she’s about to, bashfully decline I’m guessing, but Charlie stomps heavily down the old wooden stairs again like the attention seeking hippopotamus that he is. Has to let everyone know he’s entering. I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you just get a career on the stage, Charlie; They’ll announce your entrance for you. Jee-sus. Save you some time!”
He flashes me an unimpressed and joyless smile, as Luda Mae covers her mouth - not to hide her laughter from her son, but to be polite. She’s classy; I always liked that about her. In fact, I tried to be just like her growing up… I failed, but I still admire the quality on her, - and laughs a bit at my quip. Pride blossoms in my chest and makes me smile wider.
“You keep sweet talking me like that and I’ll never divorce you.”
My smile turns into a scowl and glare. “What do you want from me?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” He stops beside Luda and drops the barrel of his shotgun back against his shoulder, like a soldier in Buckingham palace. What does he need that for right now?! “Besides, I’m too expensive for you darlin’.”
“I hate you.” I say slowly, so it gets through his skull and he understands. “And you hate me.” He nods in agreement, still looking far too smug and pleased with himself. “So why can’t we get divorced and never talk again?!” I fail to see a downside!!
“Cuz I like to see your feathers all ruffled.”
“You-“ A slew of insults are about to break free of my lips, but a loud, popping bang comes from the kitchen like something tried to get out, making me look startled from the closed door to the room, to Charlie and Luda Mae. “What was that!?”
“Well… “Charlie looks thoughtful for a second, like he truly doesn’t know what to tell me, before slowly turning his gaze on Luda. “I believe Momma just blew up her pie.”
“Wha- “For half a second, Luda Mae looks like she’s about to slap her son all the way to Tim Buk Tu, before smoothening out her features again and turning back to me. Pasting an honestly believable, bashful smile on her face and speaks in a restrained voice that gives away her displeasure. “Yes. Must have lost track of time.”
Well, clearly that’s a bare faced lie. “Nice try. Charlie can pull off a lie like that, but you cant, Luda. What is it?”
Her smile softens and in two seconds she has smacked Charlie -not enough to hurt. It’s just a warning slap for trying to make her sound like a bad baker when we all here know how great she is, - and takes my arm in hers, guiding me across the hall and into the living room. “Really darling, its nothing. Thomas’ havin’ a bad day. I’m sure he’ll buck right back up though when he sees you! Are you going to stay for dinner?”
Looking behind us, I squint dangerously at Charlie. “If Charlie won’t sign these now, I might not have a choice!” Turning back to Luda, I genuinely smile. “But I would genuinely love to stay and see Thomas and Monty too, and eat your cooking! Thank you for the invitation. Maybe I can help with dinner! I have gotten better since the last time I was here.”
Charlie scoffs at my words, walking in after me and beating us to the chairs. He drops down in a recliner while Luda sits us down on the couch together. “You mean when you broke my oven?” She grins, a cheeky glint in her eye and I sigh, embarrassed.
“Yes… “Giggling, I cover my face a moment before jumping back into the fray. “But I really have gotten better!”
“I’d love to see that dear.” And the great thing is, she really does seem to. She would give any number of chances just to see one of her kids - me included, even if I am just her daughter in law. For now, - succeed. For a moment the room is just silent, and I let myself remember what it was like to be here all the time - the good things, I mean. Don’t you worry though, I remember the bad things like fighting tooth and nail with Charlie better the anything, - and how that felt, before Luda claps her hands.
She doesn’t like emotional stuff, Luda. Charlie’s a drama queen, but that’s where the emotion showing stops in this family. Thomas takes after his mother in not being too emotional, ever, and Monty prefers to keep to himself. He always has, and he goes by that philosophy regarding everything. “Well, I’m assuming there’ll be no driving off after dinner- the airport is a solid 4-hour drive! And you will not be driving that long at night.” She sets me with a cold, stern look over her glasses for a moment and even though I’m a 40-year-old woman, I submissively nod to her like a teenager. “You’ll stay in the spare room! Hoyt- Charlie. Sorry. Go change the sheets in there, and I’ll go get Monty to give you company while I start up dinner! Chop chop.”
“Wh- Did you forget she’s here tryin’ t’ divorce me, Momma? I ain’t offering the bitch any pleasantries like that! -“
“You will and you will do it with your mouth shut, Charlie.” Luda Mae gets up to her feet and Charlie and I both crane our necks to see her face. She gets much quieter, and her gaze goes dark like a parents’ does when they’re pissed. “And watch your mouth.”
Charlie bows his head and gets up from his seat, going off to do as she says. “R-Right, momma.”
My grin gets so big it turns into a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions as I watch Charlie walk off up the stairs, flipping me off when Luda leaves the room.
~~~TIME SKIP~~~
In the middle of the night, I get the bight idea to get the divorce done, immediately. If I don’t, I’ll just let time fly by again with Luda Mae and Monty, and Thomas who’s a grown up now, and I’ll never get it done. It has to be done now.
So I get out of bed, pull on my coat since I didn’t bring my dressing gown, grab the manilla file and a pen and leave the room. It doesn’t take me long to get to Charlie’s, seeing as its just down the hall, and I don’t knock before barging in. I close the door veeeeery slowly, and quietly, then sneak around to his side of the bed and take the shotgun that’s leaning against the bedside table, the handgun that sits on it, and the knife under his pillow- I still know my husband, thank you very much. And I know that if he hears someone in his room at night eh will not think or look, before shooting me in the head.
Dropping all the weapons carefully on the armchair in the corner of the room, no longer trying to be quiet as I sit down on the side of his bed that Charilie is not sleeping on. His eyes burst open at feeling the bed dip, and as he looks over to my form, his hand reaches out to grab the handgun of course, and… he calms down immediately to his cranky, exhausted, middle-of-the-night mess. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in here?? This ain’t your room anymore, piss off!”
“I know that, silly!” As he forces himself to sit up and carefully lean his back on the headboard, I hold up the manilla folder. I beam. “Just thought this would be a good time to get our affairs in order!”
“Well,” He takes a gulp from the water on his nightstand. He swallows it like it’s a rock, or a large pill. Is it even water? “You were wrong.”
“Au contrair, mon frair.” I grin, looking around behind me and on the other side of the room for something hard to write on. Ah! Hopping off the bed for a second, I grab a large hardbacked recipe book. “It is the perfect time! You’re sleepy, which makes you 90 percent more likely to be swayed into signing these papers.” I pop the book on his lap, along with the appropriate papers and the pen. “There you go; Now remember, once you sign these, we never have to look at each other’s faces, ever, again. Think about how lovely that’ll be.”
Still with the suspicious liquid at his chin, Charlie slowly raises his eyebrows at me. “Girl, you better get those papers off my lap right now or I’m gonna tear ‘em up.”
“Eep!” Immediately, I snatch them back. Then glare at him as he takes another sip of the drink. “Please.”
“Ain’t no good manners ever made any difference with me.”
I let out a deep sigh, in utter frustration at him.
I turn fully to him, completely comfortable seeing him in his bed shirt and boxers this way- it’s been 20 years and his hair’s going grey, but it still feels natural, fine, to be like this with Charlie. That does not, though, mean that I want to be here. I cross my arms, leaning my shoulder into the headboard. “Why? Why wont you divorce me? Do you hate me that much?”
“No, ‘sweetie’. I love you that much.” I watch him as he sets his jaw, takes yet another sip and glances at me. I gesture for the glass, and he hands it to me.
Taking a gulp as I turn to settle my back against the headboard, I’m pleased to find that the water is not actually water. It’s vodka. Good, I need this after a statement like that from Charlie. “No, you don’t.”
“Don’t try to tell me what I do or don’t know.” Taking the glass back from me when I finish it off, he sets it on the table. I can tell he’s still sleepy, and aching to go back to dreamland, as his words are gentler than usual, and his movements are a struggle. “Bottom line is, Y/N. I’m finally getting everything I every wanted- and I’m not gonna to let you slip through the cracks again.”
“Hard to believe, Charlie. You never tried to contact me during those, oh, 20 years I was gone?” Turning my head, I raise my eyebrows at him.
Groaning from the effort, he turns around in his spot, takes one pillow from behind him and gives it to me. “Yeah, well, I was a bit busy helpin’ Mama raise Tommy. I never stopped thinkin’ a’ you as my wife, though. You’re mine, sugar. Whether you like it right now, or not.”
“What’s this for?” I ask, holding the pillow with a confused look.
“Sleep. Its too damn late for this conversation.” My jaw drops, as Charlie lays back down in his bed and snuggles under the blankets, closing his eyes. “If you sleep here, we can talk about this as soon as we wake up; If you go to your room, you’ll have to wait til’ dinner. Then Mama’ll make you stay another night… I suggest you lay down.” With that, he pats the bed as if as an order, and after a moment of thought I groan. Evil, conniving bastard.
I take off my jacket and lay it at the end of the bed, then get under the covers and lay down my head on the pillow, half annoyed and half ready to sleep- it is late, after all. I am pretty tired. And one more night in bed with Charlie isn’t going to kill me, besides… him still loving me? The news does give me something new to think about. It… it needs to be factored in.
A moment passes where we just lay on the different sides of the bed, him with his eyes closed and probably 2 seconds from entering a hypnogogic state and me unable to get comfortable, before I sigh in frustration again and just decide to try something.
Crossing the space between us without warning, I wrap my arms around his middle in a hug, and press my face the nook between where his throat is and his shoulder, smelling a shock of his scent for the first time in 2 decades and closing my eyes to it, trying to ignore the fast paced beating in my chest.
Goddamnit, it worked. I’m comfortable as fuck now.
Charlie doesn’t comment, thankfully, and just makes a sleepy noise and reciprocates the cuddle, pulling my body closer to him by the waist. My heart beats extra fast at it, but I try to focus on going to sleep.
Cuddling with your soon-to-be ex husband and enjoying it means nothing, right? Haha… hopefully.
#Charlie Hewitt x Reader#Sheriff Hoyt x Reader#Luda Mae Hewitt#Monty Hewitt#Thomas Hewitt#Oneshot#Charlie Hewitt x Reader Oneshot#Sheriff Hoyt x Reader Oneshot
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* not me actually writing an intro the night before like i always mean to 😳 hennyway hey biddies , i'm chloe , im in the snowy part of pst , & i use she / her pns . i’ve been . . . . . . . scouring the tags for an rp like this so im so excited to bring this newish muse of mine here ! im here to do the honours of introducing my himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside . . . oscar 🤡
( twenty three , cis man , he / him ) ✉ ― hey babes , have you met OSCAR MEDICI ? they’re working here as THE HEAD CHEF AT LORENZO’S , a few villas down from where you’re staying . you might hear them singing ALRIGHTY APHRODITE BY PEACH PIT playing from their villa , it’s their favourite song . yes , they hear that they look like JACK GILINSKY a lot , actually - it’s really uncanny . their friends back home in SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA say that if they were on a tv show , their trope would be THE WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING , how funny is that ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst
𝐢 .
pinterest | wanted plots |
𝐢𝐢 .
name : oscar gabriel medici
age : twenty three
dob / sign : december 4th , 1997 / sagittarius sun , leo moon , libra rising
pob : sydney , australia
gender / pronouns : cis man & he / him / his
career : head chef at lorenzo’s , full - time heathen , professional disappointment for mothers everywhere .
drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / more often than he’d admit / never .
religion : jewish background , currently non - practicing .
physical : jack gilinsky fc , dark brown / black longish curls ( reference ) , dark brown eyes , canon jack g’s tattoos , no piercings , 6′2″ , 175 lbs , lean but strong . tattoos a la canon!jack , pearly white smile that he may . . . or may not . . . use crest 3D white strips weekly to maintain . lots of burns & scars from kitchen mishaps on his hands & arms .
traits : hard - working , flighty , intelligent , hedonistic , charismatic , intense , volatile ,
other : speaks weird french ( aussie accent tings ) , tans easily but wears sunscreen nonetheless , works hard parties harder , can’t read a lick of french but spends a lot of his free time with a coffee & a new paperback , has a bit of an internal vendetta against rich people ( for no real reason , he just doesn’t like most of them ) , has ins with a bunch the local farmers & visits them weekly , pretends he isn’t lowkey addicted to nicotine administered via a puff bar , liquor of preference is tequila or red wine , drives a lil vespa around town for the gag of it ( loves seeing it haphazardly parked amongst a bunch of luxury cars ) ,
character inspo : jess mariano ( gilmore girls ) , gordon ramsey 🤡 , patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .
𝐢𝐢𝐢 .
oscar’s arrival was as unwanted to his parents as could be : a father whose tendencies leaned towards alcoholism & abusing whoever was in arms reach , a mother whose life was more or less spent at the nursing home she worked as a nurse at , evading home . he became a self - inflicted loner , preferring to do literally the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted from him . he had a few friends he ran with , but watching them all go off & study or prepare for university solidified in oscar’s mind that the non - traditional route was for him . growing up by the water , oscar always felt more drawn to skip school & head to the beach than he did obeying his parents wishes .
one of his solaces was his grandfather , gabriel , who owned an italian restaurant in a beach town north of sydney . whenever the weather was bad & oscar felt like ditching class , he’d head over to his nono’s restaurant where his ass would be put to work as soon as he set eyes on the restaurant . it was tough work , but challenging in a way that fanned the flames in oscar’s heart , rather than dimming them . by the time he was a teenager he was working in the restaurant everyday after school , an agreement between him & his grandfather framed on the back wall that stated that as long as oscar kept from flunking out , he was allowed to spend as little or as much time in the kitchen as he pleased .
his absolute defiance of anything traditional & following the rules made him unpopular with adults , but lowkey cool with the girls . by the time he was sixteen , he was losing his focus on the restaurant & his grades & spending more & more time chasing after girls . his nono tried to get oscar to come back & focus , but as always , anything he’s asked to do quickly becomes the thing he’s running from the most .
tw : death , cancer . around his eighteenth birthday , his grandfather suddenly fell ill with a rare form of cancer that took his life six weeks after diagnosis , which rocked oscar’s world . he felt overwhelming guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with his grandfather , which manifested itself as oscar dropping out of school a year shy of graduation to commit himself fully to perfecting his grandfather’s techniques , learning all of his recipes ( read : pouring over dozens of handwritten cookbooks ) in some failed attempt to get back some time with him . oscar hadn’t been close with his parents in years , more or less seeing them as wardens of a prison he wanted nothing to do with . his grandfather’s will left him the deed to the restaurant , with an ask that oscar would promise to act on whatever he felt called towards , rather than doing what others expected of him . to be candid , this whole situation crushed him .
eventually , he decided he’d had enough of the stifling community he’d grown up in . he sold the restaurant to one of the regulars , a wealthy man who he’d come to acknowledge as somewhat of an uncle ; a safe pair of hands who would treat his grandfather’s legacy with as much passion & respect as oscar himself would . so he packed a bag , texted his mom that he was going traveling , & got on a flight that evening . he traveled all around - first through central america , then through europe , throughout asia & africa , & spent a few months driving a van across the continental united states & canada for fun .
eventually , he started getting low - ish on money , & decided to settle in one of his favourite places he’d visited : southern france . he arrived in early 2018 , taking on whatever menial tasks he could while learning french until he got a position as a line cook in an italian restaurant . a few years later , he’s made his way up to filling the head chef position , an honour he takes with pride . he’s implemented many of his own recipes while using flavours he’s learned from his travels , with ingredients straight from local farmers . he’s earned the restaurant a two michelin star rating , & is constantly striving for more to get that last star ( both for his own ego as well as a secret debt to his grandfather ) .
𝐢𝐯 .
ok but that vid where gordon puts two pieces of bread on someone’s head & calls them an idiot sandwich ? that’s oscar . intense as fuck in the kitchen , & best nobody catch an attitude about it bc he will not hesitate to hand them their ass on a silver platter .
another gordon reference : you know how he’s the spawn of satan with adults , but the sweetest , most helpul guy with children ? that’s oscar with his staff vs people he wants something from . whether its to sleep with them ( usually his first instinct to be fair ) , their money or clout , or to get into some wild adventure some random resort staff wouldn’t dream of getting into , he can turn on the charm whenever needed .
can go from absolutely demoralizing someone in the kitchen to stepping out into the lounge to schmooze with his friends or cougars who leave phat tips in 0.2 seconds . the speed at which his mood can completely 180 is one of the seven world wonders ( last i checked ) .
his love language is absolutely acts of service . catch him actually falling in love once in a blue moon & making it his mission to cook her extravagant meals everyday .
the wolf in sheep’s clothing label epitomizes his nice , helpful , charismatic exterior , while ulterior motives & disdain for those who grew up with more money than he did lurk beneath the surface .
he can be MEAN when someone fucks him over or pushes him farther than he wants - isn’t afraid to go for the low blows or send someone home with an identity crisis if it protects himself .
lowkey alcoholic but he’s not ready for that conversation yet . he sees it more as perks of the location & atmosphere he’s found himself in .
also lowkey falls in love HARD , like this man is a closeted romantic but self - sabotages all potential relationships before they can get to that point out of fear he’ll be unable to live life of his own volition ( takes a flaky philophobic sagittarius to know a flaky philophobic sagittarius 🤡 ) . has probably only had a few real relationships besides flings bc he’s afraid .
𝐯 .
check out my wanted plots tag listed here , as well as my pinterest wanted plots board here . here are some other suggestions hehe :
best friend / ride or die : someone who knows about his past , keeps him grounded when he’s lk spiraling & wants to drop everything & flee to some far flung corner of the earth .
actual relationship : it was fast - burn with deep feelings ( not them thinking they’re soulmates after dating for a month . . . pete & ariana type beat ) but completely unrealistic . they have their own life , he’s pretty much tied to the restaurant , not to mention his lack of sharing anything about his childhood / life back home . they loved & cared for each other , but crashed & burned fairly quickly because of how idealistic it was . they can either be on bad or good terms now .
hateship with sexual tension 😈
summer flings !!
fake boyfriend : he shows up on her arm to her family’s events where she’s expected to have a partner . it’s not a real relationship , but her parents don’t need to know that . he plays the part & satisfies her parents beyond the bare minimum , & in return she invites him to parties , takes him out on her family’s yacht , etc etc . we luv some symbiosis
i can always use more fwbs hehehe
squad : a group of people who do everything together , have a chaotic group chat , have nicknames for one another , are utd on each other’s sex lives , party all night then show up to brunch hungover together .
cat & mouse : someone he’s pursuing who isn’t quite giving in , & vice versa . maybe it’s been going on a few years , everytime they’re in st tropez they have this weird lil flirtationship thing goin on until she leaves , they forget about one another , then pick it right back up when she returns .
confidant : preferably someone from a working class background who understands his plight of being a worker amongst people who expect to be waited on .
enemies : they don’t like his attitude , & he doesn’t like them in return . lots of eye rolls , shit talking , & tension between their mutual friends .
we’re sleeping together but we shouldn’t be but that’s half the fun : for whatever reason they became friends , starting hooking up despite it not being a good idea ( read : he’s exes with one of her friends , her parents want her focused on career , they’re part of the same friend group , etc ) . . . but now they can’t stop . lots of stolen glances across rooms , squeezing past one another in a crowded club just close enough for a quick touch to the back , quietly leaving one another’s places the morning after & playing dumb to anyone who asks .
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weekendmagsocial The Diana we’re desperate to meet. The return of The Crown [...]
*Spoilers Alert*
*Spoilers Alert*
The Diana we’re desperate to meet. The return of The Crown will feature assassinations, avalanches and the tension between the Queen and Mrs T. But the most anticipated entrance has to be Diana’s. Today Weekend tells how they’ve captured her charisma
[...] The upcoming fourth season will take Diana from her early days as a shy kindergarten teaching assistant to a fairytale princess and an iconic global figure, as well as explore the early days of her disastrous marriage to Prince Charles.Her entrance comes when it returns to our screens in November or December, almost exactly 40 years after Nigel Dempster revealed in the Daily Mail in 1980 that Charles had found his ‘future bride’, having transferred his attention to Diana Spencer from her older sister Sarah.
Like Diana at the time, the actress playing her in The Crown is also a young unknown. Emma Corrin, 24, is a privately educated Cambridge graduate, who didn’t go to drama school.
By coincidence she’s originally from Sevenoaks in Kent, where Diana went to West Heath School from the age of 12 to 16.
Aware of how challenging the role would be for any actress, the producers started their search with a desperate call for ‘a mesmerising new young star with extraordinary range.’
The brief added, ominously: ‘She has to play charming comedy, flirt and social exhibitionist on the world stage, desperate and lonely self-harmer at her lowest ebb and the kind of psychological intensity of Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby.’
It would obviously be helpful too if she resembled Diana, and in some of the new scenes, as the kindergarten teaching assistant, and wearing a pink polka-dot dress on her 1983 tour of Australia, the likeness is uncanny.
Emma’s co-star Josh O’Connor, who plays Prince Charles, agrees, saying it was ‘spooky’ how much of a ‘breathtaking spitting image’ of Diana she was.
But Emma says she has never been told she looks like Princess Diana before – although strangely her mother, who works as a speech therapist, has been! ‘I have never had that,’ she adds. ‘I get told I look like a young Jodie Foster.’
Emma spent more than two hours a day in the make-up chair to achieve the Diana look, accentuating her doe eyes, and with several wigs re-creating the journey from ingénue to one of the most stylish women in the world.
Amazingly, she was still working hard for her final exams at Cambridge when she went through the auditions for The Crown.
‘They actually offered me the part in person,’ she says of her last audition. ‘It felt like I’d just been proposed to; it was the best moment of my life. There’s a lot of pressure, but I’ve been glued to the show since the first episode and to think I’m now joining this incredibly talented acting family is just surreal.’
Peter Morgan, the creator, writer and producer of The Crown, has complete confidence in her. ‘Emma is a brilliant talent who immediately captivated us when she came in for the part.
'As well as having the innocence and beauty of a young Diana, she also has, in abundance, the range and complexity to portray an extraordinary woman who went from an anonymous teenager to the most iconic woman of her generation.’
Like all the cast in this heavily researched production, she was given a large bundle of written material and documentaries to watch, and she spent hours on perfecting the princess’s distinctive high voice with a vocal coach and learning how to re-create her particular habit of glancing up from under her fringe, as well as her graceful way of moving.
It’s not an impression, I’m going for essence - Emma Corrin, who plays Diana
‘Something they have been making clear from the start is that this is not an impression,’ says Emma.
‘I am going for essence. Any movement and voice work we have done has been figuring out why she talks the way she does, and how she was a massive departure from the Royal Family, a bit like Meghan is now I guess, by bringing something different in the way she talks.’
Season four brings back memories of naive young Diana, with a re-creation of that first photo, at the Pimlico nursery school where she worked, which showed her holding two of her charges while the sun shone through her skirt, revealing her shapely legs.
And it follows how she becomes hardened into a mature but troubled woman who is the toast of America.
The retelling of the royal romance starts with a traumatic event: the assassination of Charles’s beloved great uncle Lord Mountbatten (Charles Dance) who was killed, along with a grandson, a local boy and his son-in-law’s mother, by an IRA bomb hidden on his boat in Ireland in 1979.
Diana recalled how she’d watched Charles at the funeral on TV and when she saw him ten months later – the families were friends – she told him: ‘You must be so lonely? You know, it’s ghastly. You need someone beside you.’ He quickly decided he was in love.
Diana was turning 19 when she got together with Charles. He was 31. After 13 dates they were engaged. The rehearsal of their 1981 wedding at St Paul’s has been filmed in Winchester Cathedral with Emma wearing a replica of the blue floral dress Diana sported before the big day.
A later scene shows the joyful day when Diana, pregnant with Harry – with Emma sporting a fake baby bump – enjoyed an Easter Egg hunt at Buckingham Palace, chasing toddler William in the gardens.
The new episodes also focus on key moments – and key looks – from 1989, three years after Charles is thought to have resumed his affair with Camilla.
In one scene Emma is seen outside The Savoy hotel in London, re-creating Diana’s appearance at the Barnardo’s Champion Awards.
Emma wears a floral one-shoulder dress, reflecting one of Diana’s favourite silhouettes – a style which suited her immensely but which the Establishment is said to have hated, deeming it ‘not royal’.
Having played Charles so sensitively in season three, Josh O’Connor, 30, says the heir to the throne will be portrayed in a harsher light this time. ‘Well, it’s the Diana years,’ he says.
‘If series three was to make people feel empathy for him, I guess we’re going to pull the rug from under him. We all have a set position on the dynamic between Diana and Charles. It’s been great to have the ability to either fight against that or, at times, acknowledge it and to challenge any question of, “Did he ever love her?” Personally, I think he must have done.
'There’s a wealth of layers to Charles and Diana, and I have loved seeking that out.
'I think Diana wasn’t completely innocent – I’m talking fictionally, in our story – so there are ups and downs. There’s the difficulty with Camilla and the whole family, so it’s going to be, hopefully, an interesting arc.’
Josh says they all enjoyed delving into an era which is so crucial to the modern Royal Family. ‘Everything changed when Diana came onto the scene,’ he says.
‘I think she changed the game, and modernised them, and made them relevant again.’
Also returning are Emerald Fennell as Camilla and Erin Doherty as feisty Princess Anne.
The real Anne revealed recently that she’d watched early episodes of the show, which she found ‘quite interesting’.
Peter Morgan says, ‘So many people asked me, after she first appeared, to put more of her in there.
Anne’s often overlooked. But Erin’s portrayal means that everybody has fallen in love with her. I read that searches about her on Google went through the roof, she’s now one of the most popular royals.’
Prince Andrew’s romantic life is set to come under the spotlight too. His most famous affair was with actress Koo Stark, who is said to have threatened to sue producers if the portrayal of her is negative, while the period covered in this series also sees him marry Sarah Ferguson.
Meanwhile, Edward is seen growing up and going to university.
There was a rush to finish filming before lockdown was announced.
It meant one key scene of an avalanche had to be moved from the Pyrenees to Ben Nevis.
The incident is likely to be a re-creation of the fatal moments in 1988 when a skiing party including Charles was caught in an avalanche in Klosters.
Major Hugh Lindsay, a former equerry to the Queen, was killed and Charles was seen weeping as he was helicoptered off the slopes.
The bizarre affair when Michael Fagan broke into the Queen’s bedroom in Buckingham Palace in 1982 will also feature in this run, but the 1987 It’s A Royal Knockout embarrassment, when the lesser royals dressed in medieval garb to play games for charity, is mercifully absent.
Once this series is over, an older cast are preparing to take the lead roles, with Imelda Staunton as the Queen and Lesley Manville as Princess Margaret.
They are due to start filming next year, and die-hard fans will be cheered by Peter Morgan’s recent change of heart, when he announced in July that there will be a sixth series to come.
The Crown will return to Netflix later this year.
- Source: Daily Mail August 14, 2020
*It has just been announced that Jonathan Pryce will portray Prince Philip in season 5 and 6.
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Elise Cooper Interviews Christina Baker Kline
The Exiles by Christina Baker Kline brings to life five women in nineteenth century Australia. All faced similar hardships struggling for redemption and freedom in this new society. They were mistreated and taken from a culture they knew. These women were all brought to their new lives against their will but showed strength and courage.
Evangeline, orphaned after her Vicar father died, found a job as a Governess. But the stepson living in the manor seduces her and shows her affection by giving her a family heirloom ring. The maid, Agnes, finds it and accuses her of stealing it. To make matters worse, she pushes Agnes and is now also accused of attempted murder. Found guilty she is sentenced to fourteen years in an Australian prison.
Olive, also a prisoner, befriends Evangeline. Accused of stealing, she received a sentence of seven years and transport to the Australian prison. She was street wise and knew what was needed to survive.
Hazel, a sixteen-year-old, was accused of stealing a silver spoon and sentenced to seven years in the Australian prison. She is a skilled midwife and herbalist, bartering her skills for goods and favors.
All three women are transported to Australia on the ship, Medea. They must struggle with sea sickness, avoiding sailor’s advances, and the harshness of the journey. Evangeline also must deal with being pregnant, the father being the stepson. She knows she will give birth to her baby while at sea.
Mathinna, the Aboriginal native, an orphaned daughter of the Chief of the Lowreenne tribe, has been adopted by the new governor of Van Diemen’s Land the setting for the Australian prison. She is used by the Governor’s wife as an experiment in civilization, trying to make her into a “lady.” Her life intersects with Hazel’s about two-thirds of the way through the book. Although Mathinna is not a convict, she like the other women is a prisoner with no control over their life.
Caleb Dunne is the doctor on the ship. Because of a misdiagnosis of a prominent woman, he decided to escape and signed up for the ship. Shy and feeling out of place he first forges a friendship with Evangeline, both enjoying the discussion of books. But later he and Hazel become friendly after he realizes her worth as a mid-wife. Their relationship becomes stronger as the story progresses.
The story fascinatingly allows the reader to follow the lives of these women in 19th Century Australia as they forge a new life with new opportunities. People will have their eyes open to pieces of history that are still pertinent today. It is obvious the author did her research and intertwined it into a riveting novel. Readers’ take a journey with these women and root for them as they gain strength and resilience.
Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?
Christina Baker Kline: I was inspired by a small article I read in a newspaper about criminal ships. The point of the article is how convicts then had it harder than today. I thought how parts of my life intersected with this story. I had a life-changing six-week Rotary fellowship to Australia. I taught in women’s prisons. I also wrote a book with my mother about the second wave of the women’s movement. A lot of the issues in this book are relevant today including the needed reform of the criminal justice system and the role of women in society. I think it is a hopeful story.
EC: Why the map in the front of the book?
CBK: I wanted to show the route from London to Van Diemen’s Land, renamed Tasmania. It is from the mid 19th Century. I hope readers get a sense of the wide-open places including the placement of the ports, an understanding of the geography. This is the setting where the convict women stayed.
EC: Why the Lowreenne Tribe?
CBK: I went to Australia and Tasmania before Covid. I learned when I arrived about the Aboriginal people who were essentially being pushed into open air concentration camps. By the late 1860s there was no full-blooded Aboriginal people left in Tasmania, out of thousands. I felt it would be irresponsible if I did not address it. Mathinna was a real person who died tragically at the age of seventeen. Everything I described in the novel actually happened to her.
EC: How would you describe Evangeline?
CBK: She was the perfect person to lead the reader into the story, in some ways a stand-in for the reader. Evangeline was naïve and emersed herself in books. The convict world was a shock for her. She was inquisitive, thoughtful, brave, and very lonely. She did not know how to survive as a convict because she was not tough so depended on Olive and Hazel.
EC: How about Hazel?
CBK: She had this “superpower” of healing; a knowledge learned as a mid-wife. Hazel knew how to balance things really well. She was savvy, caring, and angry at being abandoned. I think she goes through a change in the novel. At first, she was a mistrusting teenager, betrayed by her mother. As the story unfolds, she begins to trust more people and comes to love the baby, Ruby.
EC: How would you describe Olive?
CBK: Funny, irreverent, a comic relief, and does what it takes to get by in prison.
EC: What about the relationship between Dr. Dunne and Hazel?
CBK: He is called the “hot doctor.” As with Hazel, he also changes over time. He went on the convict ship because he needed work. At first, he befriends Evangeline who is more like him. Yet, over time Hazel and he realize they share an interest in medicine. He comes to respect her. All the class restrictions fall by the wayside.
EC: How would you describe the doctor?
CBK: A complex character. At times he could appear to be a jerk because he was dismissive, a snob, but overall caring.
EC: What was the role of the Quakers?
CBK: They believed the convicts were worthy of redemption. Elizabeth Fry was a real person who helped them. She was very judgmental because she thought they were sinners. She gave them a sense of dignity and treated them as human beings but was never 100% accepting.
EC: There are similarities with today’s topics?
CBK: Most of these women sent to Australia committed crimes of poverty. They stole to feed themselves and their family since there was no social safety net. These women fell through the cracks. The criminal justice system was brutal then. Back then the poor had no rights and were considered expendable. Legal counsel was only for the rich and the poor had no recourse. Evangeline was an example of someone without allies, resources, and representation.
EC: Why did the British courts sentence these women to prisons in Australia?
CBK: The goal of the British government was to populate Australia. It had a ratio of nine men to every woman. They were sent there under flimsy pretenses. Today, 20% of Australian descendants come from convicts. The Australian personality was forged within their convict past: irreverent, willing to take changes, and never took themselves very seriously. When out of prison, these women had opportunities they would never have had in Britain.
EC: Why the drowning scene?
CBK: I wanted to show how no life is sacred. I read books on drowning. Sebastian Junger who wrote the non-fiction book, The Perfect Storm describes in detail how someone drowns. This was very helpful to me with those scenes in the book.
EC: A powerful quote, “People we love live inside us, even after they’re gone.” Please explain.
CBK: In my novels I often talk about this. In Orphan Train the book begins with the line, “I believe in ghosts. They are the ones who haunt us. They are the ones that left us behind.” With both quotes I thought about the tree metaphor. I love the idea of years that pass, giving us a core of strength. The convict women were alone and had to draw on what they had internally. Even though they lost someone they still had a piece of them in their memories.
EC: What about your next projects?
CBK: My next book, probably out in 2023 will be set in the Civil War era in North Carolina. This novel has been optioned for a TV series by Bruna Papandrea. I will be an executive producer.
THANK YOU!!
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I was hugely excited by the announcement that a fourth season of teen noir show Veronica Mars was going to be made, nearly fifteen years after the show’s initial air date (and cancellation after three seasons), and five years after the crowdfunded movie came out. As soon as the show dropped on Hulu (or Stan, if you’re in Australia like me) – a week earlier than initially slated, I rushed to watch it. And I was so distraught by the ending that it genuinely took two days for my mood to return to something even vaguely resembling ‘okay’.
For those of you who haven’t seen it *SPOILERS FROM HERE ON*,
season four has Veronica (Kristen Bell) chasing down a serial bomber who seems to be trying to destroy the Spring Break business in Neptune. It turns out that the first bomb was set by property developer ‘Big’ Dick Casablancas, trying to destroy the Spring Break business in order to buy the waterfront properties cheaply, and the subsequent bombs were set by a pizza delivery man, Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt), who fancies himself a detective and is out to find glory after he is initially ridiculed for his public accusation of an incorrect suspect. The season itself had several issues (one of them being some seriously murky motivations behind Epner’s behaviour, like, if he really was that much of a genius, why was he a pizza delivery man?, and that the people ultimately behind the crimes are more or less ‘hidden in plain sight’ all along, which is a disappointing departure from the way the initial seasons cleverly hid the villain until quite late in proceedings). However, the issue for which there is not enough therapy in the world to appease me is the season’s last-minute killing off of reformed bad-boy and Veronica’s long-time boyfriend, Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring), right after they finally got married.
Series creator and showrunner, Rob Thomas, justified this decision by saying ‘I know this seems crazy or harsh but Veronica is at her best when she’s an underdog and I don’t know that there’s much to root for if she’s now got a perfect relationship. I need to keep her fighting and I need to keep her a little bit uncomfortable in order to have a show. There’s nothing funny or interesting about perfection.’
Except that’s a deeply flawed understanding of how relationships function, and a deeply messed up thing to push on to people.
It’s fair to acknowledge that once the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ is resolved, TV shows often decline in quality, or at the very least, significantly depart from the original formula which made them into such beloved hits at their beginning. But there are two significant issues with this: First, the assumption that TV shows must remain the same in order to be good. There are some interesting observations that the job of the sitcom episode (in particular) is to return all characters to more or less their original starting points. While that is broadly true, TV shows, like life, need to evolve in order to stay interesting, and as across seasons, audiences grow alongside the characters they watch evolve and mature.
Nevertheless, it was fair for Thomas to note that the characterisation of Veronica is someone who is embittered and cynical about people’s fidelity and inherent goodness – after all, when we first meet her at the age of sixteen, her best friend has been brutally murdered, she’s been raped, her alcoholic mother has upped and left, and her adored father and moral compass has been socially ostracised for a) doing his job and b) being not super wealthy. It’s a lot. Veronica’s very understandable trust issues are compounded by the moonlighting she does as a P.I where, to she regularly sees people cheating on one another and generally behaving in unpleasant ways. So it’s reasonable to point out that for Veronica, the notion of the ‘happily ever after’ is a deeply uncomfortable one. But to keep her in the same mindset as she was at aged 16 is to deny her the capacity to grow as a character.
It’s fair that there was a desire to avoid repeating the pattern previously established (withdrawn/bitter etc), but – and here is my ultimate point – that could have been avoided.
Some of the most complex and interesting storylines come from couples who get together and have to navigate relationships; compromising to fit together, find a way to make it work. Think about the evolution of Niles and Daphne’s relationship in Frasier (and leave aside some of the aspects to his earlier infatuation with her that seem distinctly distasteful in a post-#metoo world). While much of the humour between them in earlier seasons was because of his unrealised ardour for her, after they became a couple, the hardships they navigated through being a couple, and the deepening richness of their relationship that was both romantic and based in friendship, produced some truly hilarious moments. Similarly, one of my (and our fabulous Chief Nerd, Elise’s) favourite TV shows, Chuck, *SPOILER* has the two leads get together in season 3. The show was no lesser for that fact because as Chuck and Sarah’s relationship deepened, they explored facets of themselves that they hadn’t previously shown – it provided more material for the writers, not less.
One of my favourite articles on the ending of Veronica Mars, season four, pointed out that Logan has the most interesting character development because he works to better himself – he has come a long way from the miscreant teenager who organised ‘bum fights’, and he had the potential to become an even more interesting character. How this interacted with Veronica’s cynicism could have provided significant fodder for more story.
But, giving full credit to Rob Thomas for a moment here, the show is called Veronica Mars, not Logan Echolls. So the decision to axe Logan was made to push Veronica’s character development forward, especially given the shows position as a gender-flipped noir which so often has the embittered, cynical detective dealing with the ongoing pain of a tragically killed love.
But the problem is that I can’t actually see how this is going to do anything but ossify Veronica’s primary characteristics: bitter, a hardnosed and reckless desire to catch the bad guy at any cost. Moreover, in most of the noir detective stories, this love has died before we meet the hard-bitten detective.
Thomas said to The Hollywood Reporter, “Moving forward, we’re going to really build around [the idea that] the case is the thing and less of the soap opera of Veronica’s life.” Except Veronica Mars is all about character. Her interactions with her father, Keith (Enrico Colantoni) and the genuine bond of affection between them evokes some of the show’s most poignant interactions. Her internal struggle when the pursuit of justice comes up against questions of morality is inherent grounded in her character. One of its most interest aspects across the years is that Veronica is often wrong. She falsely accuses people (including Logan himself), she behaves badly, she takes her friends for granted, and she can be reckless to the point where she endangers herself and someone has to come in and rescue her (case in point: wandering into the base of an Irish gang that had a particular grudge against her father). So to strip away the elements to the story that allow for depiction and consideration of those complexities would be to lose much of the show’s point.
There’s also a part of me that feels the way in which Logan was killed feels personal. Logan and Veronica were never initially meant to get together, but in the first episodes, the chemistry between the characters, and Kristen Bell and Jason Dohring was so profound that it was written in. I might be putting on my tin foil hat to say this, but it feels as though Thomas resented the manner in which LoVe became such a pivotal part of the Veronica Mars ‘brand’. What really underpins that for me is that the way the series sent off other characters was considered, and gave them a certain ‘exit’. The way in which Logan was killed off feels almost like an afterthought, made more so by some of the questions that arise from the manner. How did he know that she would be in it when it actually blew up? Moreover, the convenience of him leaving a voicemail for his therapist about why he wanted to marry Veronica (why exactly would he call his therapist to tell him about his epiphany? Who has that kind of relationship with their therapist?), and this woman’s decision to keep it from Veronica for a year seems weirdly contrived. Because it was.
However, to be fair, one could claim that the season mistreated some of its other characters, too. Tina Majorino who plays Cindy ‘Mac’ Mackenzie specifically noted that she did not want to return because she did not want her character to be sidelined. Similarly, the complexity to Eli ‘Weevil’ Navaro’s character was stripped away, as was the depth of his relationship with Veronica. What’s worse is that this could have been a really interesting storyline; why he decided to walk away from the court case which would have seen him awarded with compensation for what happened to him in the movie. While we are told that his wife left him along with his child, prompting him to return to his old gang-running ways, the depth of his grief and the reputable life he lost were never really portrayed. Honestly, I would have preferred that rather than the convoluted storyline that involved Mexican cartel hitmen.
But beyond my argument as a writer as to why Logan’s death was a totally unnecessary element to bring in, it also feels like a real slap in the face to fans. I’ve previously talked about the relationship this show has with its fans. Realistically, season 4…hell, the movie, only existed because of the love and support fans showed the show.
Any narrative material exists to interact with fans. Obviously, there is a fine line that can cross into blatant pandering, and there is also a trend that offers a ‘gritty’ or ‘sad’ end (ie the tragic death of the lover), but it’s a balance.
The Veronica Mars movie was very much fan service – it was, after all, fan funded. Much of the movie’s contents and storyline were determined by what Thomas was seeing from fan comments on social media, noting “I did have an idea of things people wanted to see, characters I wanted to get an appearance in, whether it felt extraneous or not.” He added, “there’s no way in the world we would have had a fan-funded movie and I would have killed Logan,” he added.
In the same interview, he said, “I fear that leaning into the high school soap that the show started out as is a losing proposition, that it will start feeling nostalgic rather than vital. If Kristen [Bell] and I want to make more of these Veronica Mars mysteries, I think it’s going to survive best as a true mystery show with a badass PI at the center of it, and I think that works better if the PI doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
Yet for a show whose who schtick was challenging the noir detective genre, it seems the prospect that someone fundamentally gritty and damaged can also have a relationship that the struggle to be healthy was simply a bridge too far.
And at the crux of it, what really frustrates me – as a fan, and as a writer – is that for Thomas, it simply felt too hard to give Logan and Veronica an enduring relationship, and it if wasn’t too difficult, then he perceived it destroyed some fundamental part of the show by making it emotionally sappy. If that’s the dichotomy in which Thomas thinks, then Veronica Mars is no longer the show which attracted its die-hard following of fans and may as well be a different show with a similar premise.
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Heartlines [ calum hood ]
w.a.h series | pt.2 | word count: 3,802 | masterlist
You wish you could say the separation got easier with time, but sadly, that was a lie.
Months had passed since the last time you saw the man you love in person, and the heartache of being apart without knowing when it would end didn't ease until the day you woke up and saw the words that made you burst into tears before they'd even fully registered.
The world was healing. Be it at a slow pace, it was still getting better by the day in it's own little ways.
You favoured the day fast food opened again the most, sitting with your siblings in a McDonald's drive through for two hours listening to New Order and Brockhampton before finally getting a big mac you'd been craving ever since lock down began.
But once things started opening up again, Calum found his ways to surprise you nearly instantly. First it was a bunch of flowers, then a new fluffy blanket, then something that didn't come from a store.
Calum had always known you were a hopeless romantic, and decided to play on it in a way he knew would make you melt.
Nearly a week after your text to him and his video to you, you received a piece of snail mail covered in Australian stamps, your heart racing as the scrawl on the front of the envelope was instantly recognisable to you.
Upon reading the letter inside, your entire body glowed with happiness and your face was soaked with tears, after all, you'd never received a love letter before.
Once the first letter was sent, you wasted no time making your own and sending it back to him, including polaroids you knew he didn't have, and spraying the paper with your signature perfume for added effect.
Calum was shy to admit it, but he did cry when he opened his letter and it smelt just like you.
This continued on back and forth for weeks, until the day more than just a letter could travel between you.
As normal, you sat with your family watching the press conference with the prime minister and director general of health in the late afternoon, as you'd become familiar with anytime there was an announcement due.
There were rumours of a travel bubble opening up between New Zealand and Australia, but not wanting to get your hopes up, you didn't feed these rumors too much thought.
But still, you sat beside your sister with a hopeful and anxious feeling stirring in your stomach as you watched today's announcement.
The moment the rumours were confirmed, you let out a whimper as tears clouded your vision.
"One week from today, starting at midnight, domestic flights will resume between Australia and New Zealand."
You waited until the end of the broadcast, excusing yourself to your room to call Calum, knowing he'd been watching the same thing being said by his own prime minister.
What you didn't see was the look of relief on your families faces. Not only for the fact life was now closer to being normal than ever, but it was the first time they had seen you cry happy tears in the midst of what you confined in your brother, one of the hardest mental states you've ever been in. Their lives were all on hold, sure, but their lives are here, and you had made a life for yourself in a completely different country, and while you would always love your home, you had another one now that you wanted to be wrapped up in again.
The joy they saw in you wasn't just because you were closer to seeing Calum again, it was because you were closer to your life again. Your job, your home, the friends you considered just as important as your blood family, they were all finally at your fingertips again.
You didn't care about the fact your messy top knot was falling apart, or that the tears were still pouring down your face, all you wanted was to see him.
Shutting your door behind you, you pull up a facetime request for Calum, him answering seconds later like he was about to call you himself.
"Baby." The pet name falls out of your mouth as you see tears clouding his eyes, his once short bleached out hair now echoing the blonde tips of his past as his natural curls come back with a vengeance.
"Hey darlin." He says, his voice thick with emotion.
He covered his face with one hand as he could feel his tears start to fall, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding him as he saw your bright smile and tears of joy.
Calum had sat in shocked silence as he watched the news, not snapping back to reality until he felt his mother pulling him into a hug once the announcement sunk in, the words he heard making his knees feel weak.
"Don't cry, my love. I'm coming home as soon as possible, okay?" You reassure him, wiping your own tears away with the sleeve of the hoodie Calum could swear used to be his.
"I hope you know once I get you again I'm never letting go." He says quietly, your heart swelling with his words.
Little did you know, the engagement ring he had finally asked his mother for sat just out of frame, more meaning in his words than you realised.
"Who said I'd ever want to leave?"
Calum just shook his head with a laugh, and from there, you both got to planning.
As much as you loved your family, you had also been around each other every day for months, and while Calum was more keen on the time he finally got to spend with his family again after touring the world since he was a teenager, you'd had a solid twenty years with your family before you left home. With that in mind, it was decided that you would be flying to Australia, your visa allowing you to stay for a month before you would have to come back to New Zealand.
Planning out your next steps together, you made a full two month plan, and hoped that after those two months, you'd both be flying home to LA, together.
With one more week spent giving as much of your time as possible to your family, you finally packed your things up again, hopped in the car with your siblings, and headed to Auckland airport.
Instead of coming to the airport, you and your parents decided to share your tearful goodbye with each other at home.
After checking in, handing over your bags, and hugging both of your siblings til they told you that you were the most embarrassing one in the family, you finally boarded the flight to Sydney.
Little did you know, your boyfriend was already watching the clock to see when he could acceptably start waiting at the airport.
While you watched Avengers Endgame on your laptop to pass the time, Calum was pacing around the living room of his family home, Mali laying on the couch behind him with a pillow over her head so she didn't have to watch her brother burn a hole in the floor.
"You already know she's gonna say yes." She says, lifting the pillow for a moment before putting it down again.
"You don't know that for sure." He mutters lowly, checking his watch again and seeing your estimated arrival time was still two hours away.
Calum walked upstairs to his room, looking into his mirror for what felt like the millionth time today as he checked his hair and outfit for the day.
With hairdressers opening up again a couple weeks ago, Calum had strongly thought about clipping off all his hair before you saw him again, but knowing how much you loved his grown out curls, he instead decided to get it trimmed and styled yesterday, hiding it under a beanie while facetiming you the night before.
He once again readjusted his leather jacket, a Elvis shirt underneath with simple black pants and some converse to complete the look. While he had thought about pulling a suit out from the few he'd brought with him, he knew there was a high chance you'd tackle him, deciding comfort was a better idea instead.
Between leaving for the airport with his family and actually arriving, Calum had tapped the inside pocket of his leather jacket more than thirty times.
The small velvet ring box in his pocket was at the front of his mind as he sat beside Mali in the back of the car, his mum in the front passengers seat, and his dad driving them closer and closer to the most important question Calum has ever asked in his life.
His whole family was excited to see you, and it wasn't only because they were about to welcome you into their family, but because in their eyes, you were already part of it.
Whenever Calum would be able to come home throughout the last three years, he would always hear the question "is y/n coming with you?" whenever he let his family know about his plans. It wasn't a secret that they had a soft spot for you, which meant that not only were they excited for you to be here for Calum, they were excited to see you themselves.
After parking and walking through the airport Calum was more than familiar with, he couldn't help but notice how clammy his hands were, or the way his leg would bounce anxiously when he finally sat down in the waiting lounge outside your arrival gate.
He was nervous. Excited, but nervous.
You were feeling a lot of the same as you sat in the window seat seeing Sydney slowly coming into view.
You'd spent the last twenty minutes of the flight doing some incredibly simple makeup, certain it would probably get kissed off, or cried off your face if you added too much. You only added a slight bit of green eyeshadow to match the green t-shirt you wore over a striped long-sleeved shirt, your black jeans and sneakers finishing off the look you stressed over for a solid two hours before you left for the airport.
Feeling your heart race as you approached the airport, you tried to take a deep breath as your emotions threatened to get the better of you, but you refused to cry before you'd even seen him.
Stepping onto Australian land, you felt an entirely different wave of excitement hit you. You weren't the kind of person who liked to stay in one place for too long a time, and spending so long back at home with your family made you feel that urge to travel again more than usual.
You could barely contain yourself as you walked through the airport, collecting your bags quicker than expected and making your way through the area before your gate exit.
Stopping for a moment in the hall, you take one last deep breath, nothing able to prepare you for the wave of emotions you were sure to feel.
Calum checked his pocket one last time as he saw people starting to come from your gate, standing with his family in toe as he tried his best to see you through the crowds of people.
The second you walk around the corner, you see him, standing there with a mix of emotions obvious on his gorgeous face you had missed so, so much.
You cover your mouth with your hand as a sob erupts from your throat, and you walk faster towards him, a death grip on your trolley that you let go of as he finally spots you, and you see him let out a breath it looks like he's been holding for months the second his eyes land on you.
Your trolley is lost behind you as you break out into a run, him doing the same and meeting you halfway where you crash into his arms with so much force it nearly sends both of you crashing to the floor.
Nothing in your life had ever come close to feeling as good as having Calum's arms wrapped around you so tightly that he had lifted your feet off the ground, your legs automatically wrapping around him as you try to hold him as close as physically possible.
Both your bodies shook as you cried, tears of joy, relief, and pure happiness all coming at once as Calum finally sets you on your feet.
Barely pulling away, he pushes your hair away from your face, inspecting you like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. You did the same, taking in his features that no pictures or screens could ever do justice.
With shaky hands, you grin as you carefully and gently dry his tears, taking your opportunity to rake your hands through his curls, feeling like it had been a lifetime since you'd gotten a chance to and savouring the sensation of finally having him in front of you.
Taking your face in both of his hands, he pulls your face to his, kissing you with more passion and emotion than you had ever experienced before. It felt like the usual fireworks you felt when Calum kissed you had been replaced with straight TNT, your heart beating out of your chest so hard you were convinced he could hear it.
When you both finally pull away because of your need for breath, Calum holds you close still, peppering kisses all over your face and making you laugh so hard you feel a fresh wave of tears pour down your cheeks.
Making you yelp in surprise, Calum picks you up again, turning and walking towards the exit a few steps.
"Okay we can go now." He jokes, and with him turning around, you can finally see Mali and Mr. and Mrs. Hood standing a couple feet away.
Gasping in surprise, you signal to Calum to let you down, which he hesitantly does, only to see you crash into Mali with open arms tightly wrapping around her.
"I've missed you guys so much!!" You say, your voice thick with another wave of emotion as you bear hug Mali.
"We've missed you too, chickie." Joy smiles, opening her arms for her own hug which you happily deliver with a kiss hello to her cheek.
You give Malcom a hug before Mali pulls you back to her for another, making you laugh as the smiles on the family you loved so much made you feel so much better than you had been the last few weeks.
"I'm so happy we finally have our third to outnumber the boys." Mali says, wiping a fake tear from her eye as you notice she's pulled your luggage trolly to sit beside your small group, a camera you recognised as hers sitting on top facing you all.
"Don't worry, we haven't gotten as bad as she makes us out to be." Malcom says with a laugh as he wraps his arm around Joy's shoulders.
"I have a feeling she's gonna be on her own team." She says, a knowing smile on her face as she looks past you to where you could sense Calum behind you.
Turning around to follow her gaze, you feel all the air in your lungs leave your body.
Standing in front of you, Calum's breath came in anxious bursts as he looked at you with pure adoration, a small red velvet box in one hand as he reached out to take yours, doing everything he could to remember the words he rehearsed in his head more times than he could remember.
"Y/n," he starts shakily, "since the first day I met you by total accident, you have intrigued, confused, and amazed me over and over again. From the second we first threw around the idea of being together, you didn't ever question the miles between us we knew we would have to face, the press that would take hours, or the days I would spend locked away in my studio. Instead, you decided to love me for who I am, a lovesick idiot who eats your secret oreos and adores you more than I could ever express with words. These last few months without you have been the most challenging and unwanted thing I've ever gone through, and it's driven home the fact that if I could, I would never leave your side again."
Calum takes a deep breath, forcing down the tears that so desperately wanted to escape as he watched your tears pouring down your face, a look of shock staying with you as he spoke.
"You're the funniest, smartest, most creative, and most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I don't know who I'd be today without you. Nothing could prepare me for the happiness you'd bring into my life by just waking me up by shifting closer to me in the middle of the night, holding my hand when the world gets too loud, or ignoring me to defeat Alduin for the millionth time." You can't help but to laugh at his words, using your sleeve to wipe away your tears as you try to stay as silent as possible.
But your hand flies to your mouth to smother a sob as Calum gets down on one knee in front of you, looking up at you with glassy eyes as he finishes his speech.
"I adore you, I admire you, and y/n, I love you with my whole heart. I'm the luckiest man in the universe to have you, and I would take an arrow to the knee for you any day of my life. I've loved you since our first date, and if I can only be sure about one thing in this world, it's that I'm going to love you for the rest of my life, a life that I want to spend the rest of with you."
Opening the ring box in front of him, your eyes land on the most perfect ring you've ever seen in your life. A thin band engraved with flowers held a small diamond in its circle shaped setting, the white and silver complimenting the simple style and elegance of the ring that you knew had seen a love before yours.
"Y/n, will you marry me?"
You finally let out the sobs you had been trying to hold in, nodding your head furiously as you pulled Calum up from the floor.
"Yes. In every lifetime, yes." You cry, pulling his face to yours and kissing him as hard as you could, the saltiness of your tears mixing with his as you heard the people around you burst into applause.
You hadn't even taken notice of the crowd that had formed around you once they had seen Calum get down on one knee, but they were all captured in the background of the footage Mali had been recording the whole time for you to see later.
Calum pulled back just long enough to slide the ring he was still holding onto your shaking hand, his own not much steadier as the adrenaline and relief hit him at full force.
"I told you so!" Mali laughs happily, coming over and wrapping her arms around the two of your, excitement and love buzzing through your small group.
Joy and Malcom join Mali in wrapping the two of you up in hugs, and when you finally do pull away from each other, the wet patch on his chest from your tears matches the one on your shoulder from his.
Your tears lighten, but don't disappear as your hand sits perfectly in Calum's while you all walk out to the car, you and Malcom loading your baggage into the back before you climb into the car, sandwiched between Calum and Mali, both of them holding your hands as you drive home.
Your new fiancé wastes no time wrapping you up in hugs and kisses the second the door of his bedroom closes, your bags sitting beside it after you dropped them there once you and Calum had excused yourselves.
Before you made your way upstairs, Joy had let you know that her and Malcom would be taking you all out to dinner that night to celebrate, but that was pushed to the back of your mind as you peppered kisses along Calum's jaw.
You weren't sure if everyone had made a consciousness effort to give you two some time alone, but with Malcom heading back into work to collect some things, Joy going to visit a friend for coffee, and Mali meeting up with some friends at a recording studio for a couple hours, you and Calum were left alone.
Knowing this, Calum pulls your face back up to his, pressing a heated kiss to your lips as he lifts you up to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you and letting his hands drift under your shirt.
Pulling back for a moment, Calum hovers above you, looking down at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever had the honour to witness. And as you looked up to him, hands each side of his face, you could swear he was the most beautiful person the universe had created.
"I've missed you-" you kiss him "-so much."
You're met with a gorgeous smile as he tightly wraps his arms around you where your shirt was now riding up, flipping you over so you now rested on top of him, legs tangled together and pure bliss coursing through you.
"I've missed you too, way too fucking much." He breaths, perfectly content for the first time in months.
"Your family already know by the way." He adds with a sly smile, and you push yourself up so you can look at him.
"That I'm engaged to the most amazing man on earth?" You question with a raised eyebrow.
He just grins, nodding as you rest your head against his neck.
"I video called your parents yesterday, told them my plan. I asked if I could marry you months ago though."
Your eyes go wide at his casual tone, like he hasn't just told you one of the sweetest things on earth.
"Everyone knew but me." You deadpan.
"Mhm. Sorry love." He apologises, kissing the top of your head.
"Don't be sorry, I wouldn't have changed anything about it."
You reach up to kiss his jaw once more, snuggling even closer to him and letting out a soft sigh, peace finally settling in you as you laid in his arms again, him squeezing you as close as he possibly could.
"Told you I'm not letting you go again."
Taglist: @spicycal @calmlftv @irwinkitten @mrandleer @candidcal @lukeskisses @wallflowercal @brooklynsninenine @whereveryouares @everyscarisahealingplace
#calum hood#calum hood fanfic#calum hood fluff#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer fanfic#5 seconds of summer imagine#5 seconds of summer blurb#calum hood imagine#calum hood fic
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the memory of what we would become // Charlotte&Lola
Summary: High School AU But As Adults. Winter 1997. Charlotte, one year shy of 30, has come back from jet-setting around the world as Rolling Stone’s international correspondent for Christmas, and decides to stop in at Lola and her father Leo’s diner.
A/N: 3749 words. WTF this wasn’t meant to be this long. File this under; things that will not make sense since I haven’t published the actual High School AU. so for reference, in the HS AU Lola’s dad doesn’t die, instead he leaves her mother, takes lola to LA, and opens up a diner there. this is set 12 years after the actual HS AU. UNEDITED. @misscharlottelee @summersummerland THIS IS SO SAPPY IM DYING
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The walls of Leo’s had changed colours several times over the years, and the latest was a serene lilac. Charlotte steps in, out of the cold, out of the snow, pulling off her scarf and gloves in the sudden warmth of the heated seating area; it’s a relatively slow day, at least for Leo’s, so it’s still bustling with activity. It had been over a decade since Leo’s had opened, and slowly but surely it had turned into something of a landmark of their little suburb as word of it’s reputation spread along the coast, and then through the nation, with bands like Motley Crue, stars like Keanu Reeves and Peach Perry, mentioning it in interviews, and even a certain Rolling Stone writer bringing it up occasionally in articles. Despite it’s popularity, it had retained it’s heart, clearly, as a teenager greets Charlotte, a kid with too many piercings and no eyebrows, smiling all kinds of bright in a way that most probably wouldn’t expect from such an boy who looked so alternative.
“Welcome to Leo’s, was it just yourself today, or will others be joining you?” He asks, and Charlotte gives a warm smile at the familiar greeting.
“Just me; do you know if Lola’s in?” She asks, and for a moment, the kid hesitates, and looks over his shoulder.
“Lola?” He calls, and through the familiar window into the kitchen, Charlotte sees Lola, hair short and eyes bright, look up expectantly. Her whole face lights up at the sight of Charlotte in the entryway.
“Charlie!” She exclaims, and the kid visibly relaxed, nodding to Charlotte, affirming what they both already knew, “Nathan, can you take these burgers to Roan and his sons? Charlie’s an old friend,” Lola calls out to the boy, who zips away, picking up the plates of burgers as Lola put them up to be collected.
“Is that Charlie?” From the back of the kitchen, Charlotte hears Leo call, and after a moment, she also sees his head pop out of the walk-in refrigerator as she approaches the counter. From somewhere further in the refrigerator, out of sight, she hears a faint, child-like, ‘Auntie Charlie?’ followed by Leo disappearing again, though she could still hear him; “yeah, buddy, Auntie Charlie!”
“Hi Leo! Good to see you!” Charlotte calls out, and sits as at the counter as Lola bustles out from the kitchen and around the counter to wrap her friend up in a hug. It’s been months since the girls have seen each other, and to walk into the diner, so familiar and warm, smelling like herbs and spices, to hear the food cooking and the music playing, it felt like coming home.
“Charlie, look at you, you’re so grown up!” Lola holds Charlotte at arm’s length, giving her an approving look over, which she does every time Charlotte comes back to town since they’d both graduated college, like they’re not still the same age, that being almost thirty. Charlotte rolls her eyes with a good natured smirk, brushing off Lola’s smirk as she tucks her gloves and scarf into her purse, “where’d you fly in from this time, Miss Jet-Setter?” Lola’s grinning from ear to ear, moving back behind the counter to start on a milkshake for Charlotte without her even needing to ask.
“Australia,” Charlotte settles into one of the stools by the counter, beaming with pride, “wrote a piece on this rock band, Silverchair, only sixteen, can you believe that?”
“Tommy was sixteen when Motley first got together,” Lola pointed out, to which Charlotte’s grin turned soft and nostalgic.
“Yeah, but they didn’t make it big for a few years,” she reminded, “but Lola, you and Leo would love them, salt of the Earth kind of boys; actually, you might have heard some of their stuff, they were kind of big here too, Tomorrow? Their album’s called Frogstomp.”
“Dad,” Lola calls over her shoulder, “have we played any Silverchair? Frogstomp? Song called Tomorrow?” After a moment, Leo emerges from the freezer with a small, dark-haired child balanced on his hip.
“I think I’ve heard of them, maybe on the radio? Should be play them; what do you think, Charlie, you’re the expert here?” And his smile is so bright, so familiar, that it hits Charlotte square in the chest; he’s still so tall, broad, and intimidating, but his smile offsets it all, kind and gentle, and when she sees he’s wearing a Motley Crue t-shirt -
“Hi, Auntie Charlie!” The kid on his hip, who looks to be about five years old, is waving broadly to her, beaming.
“Fuckin’ love Silverchair,” says a girl with bright green hair from where she was watching burger patties cook on the grill, not even turning around, hip cocked and spatula in hand.
“They are very good,” Charlotte agrees with the girl, before waving back to the kid, grinning just as broadly, “hi Mal!” Much to the kid’s delight.
Both Lola and Leo grin, talking about how they’d have to look into the band. Leo takes a moment to look over the various people in his kitchen cooking and preparing meals, more than Charlotte thinks she’s ever seen, but it makes sense seeing as how the demand has risen. But then he’s joining Lola by the counter, putting the child down and stepping around to wrap Charlotte up in a hug.
“Sorry if I’m a bit frosty, Mal and I were putting away the produce, weren’t we buddy?” Stepping back, he grins at the child, who’s standing by the counter wearing a blinding, and also familiar smile, stepping up onto a stool that made him the perfect height to serve if he so chose.
“Tutu Leo says he’s gonna teach me the special spice mix for the patties soon,” the child, Mal, delights, and Lola puts Charlotte’s milkshake down, and ruffles the kid’s hair.
Maleko Jr already looks like his namesake, and like his mother, but Charlotte would know Nikki’s green eyes anywhere, and there’s something about the bassist in the kid’s smile too, that has Charlotte’s heart warming at the sight.
“Momma, can I have a milkshake too? A chocolate one?” The kid turns to Lola, wide-eyed and hopeful, and Lola gives a fond grin.
“I think so; it’s a special occasion, Auntie Charlie’s back. Do you want me to make it for you or -?” but before Lola can even suggest, Mal hops down from his stool and strides over to the milkshake equipment, claiming that he could do it himself, radiating pride.
“Mal’s really starting to help out around here,” Lola says with pride of her own, her smile turning so adoring as she watches her son, “Since school’s on break, I told him he’s more than welcome to play with his friends or watch TV, but no, he just wants to listen to Motley records and help out Tutu Leo.”
“Lola your kid is a delight,” Charlotte all but wheezed, watching Mal focus intently as he tries to applying a chocolate sauce drizzle to the inside of his cup, the way they did when they made milkshakes here. Charlotte raises her voice just a little, “Mal, last time I was here, you were just handing out napkins, look at you now!”
“I was four then, Auntie Charlie,” Mal says with surprising seriousness as he puts his cup on the bench, and then drags his stool from the counter to the milkshake area, pulling the milk out of the fridge below the counter and climbing atop his stool, “I’m five now, I’m almost an adult.” He says it so matter-of-factly, in a tone that sounds so much like Nikki, that Charlotte has to stop herself from laughing, and from the endeared look on both Leo and Lola’s faces, this was the sort of thing he said often.
“He thinks once you turn ten you become an adult,” Lola whispers to Charlotte as clarification, and it does little to stop the endearment from blossoming in her chest.
Around them, the staff still works, still moves and cooks and prepares, a well oiled machine, competent thanks to Leo and Lola’s tutelage, able to work well while giving Leo, Lola, and Mal, time with Charlotte.
“How’s Razzle?” Leo asked amicably, changing the subject. Before Charlotte can answer, he quickly asks if she’d like anything from the pastry display, and Charlotte accepts a strawberry tart with thanks.
“He’s good, he’s at my parents’ house, sleeping off his jetlag; he spent the last week with me in Australia, so it’s been kind of a whirlwind for him,” she says with a gentle fondness. In the years since that fateful Junior year, so much had happened to all of them, and the development Razzle and Charlotte’s relationship was some of the most surprising.
During their last year of high school, communication with Razzle was mostly via phone calls and letters, and despite trying their hand at long-distance, after a year, with his band’s growing success, and Charlotte’s growing academic demands as she finished school and started looking at colleges, they both decided that it wasn’t the right time.
After graduating, Charlotte managed to get a scholarship to study Journalism in New York, giving her room to breath, to think, to reinvent herself away from her family and all the pressure and drama that came with her. It had been hard at first, especially being so far from her friends and her cousin, but at least she had Eileen, the two of them sharing a shoebox apartment in the city, studying side by side.
So Charlotte had her fair share of flings and hookups through her first year of college, boyfriends and one night stands and things that were sort of in the middle, still talking often with Razzle as friends, but nothing ever seemed to stick. In her second year of college, when presented with the opportunity to study abroad, she took it, heading to the UK with an ulterior motive.
They’d needed the time apart, to grow as people and as friends, but the moment Charlotte steps off the plane, and Razzle’s waiting with her name on a sign, a bunch of flowers, and a bright smile, Charlotte knew she was still absolutely gone for him.
They’d been more or less together for the better part of a decade, with Charlotte often joining Hanoi’s tours, or Razzle following Charlotte to wherever Rolling Stone had sent her since she’d become their foreign correspondent in 1994. Both were now well versed in being understanding, with such hectic and conflicting schedules, but when they’re together, Charlotte can’t help but feel seventeen again, falling in love with him all over again, and she knows he feels the same.
“Australia, that’s on my bucket list,” Leo mused from where he had been wrapping napkins around knives and forks, and putting them neatly in a basket.
“Oh, you’d love it,” Charlotte enthuses, “if you ever want to expand your business, I think it’d be a hit down under.”
“It becomes a chain, but only with a store here, and one in Australia,” Leo snorts a laugh at the idea, though it’s amused rather than derisive, before he brushes the thought aside, “nah, I think with the diner as big as it is, and being in talks with the pub, that’s all I want.” He says with a fond grin, though that second part was news to Charlotte.
“The Kings’?” Charlotte says with interest, looking over her shoulder at the now rather tired-looking pub across the road.
“The owners are looking at selling it,” Lola says tentatively, looking to her father who wore a small smile, giving a nod of confirmation, “since we started started selling merchandise, we’ve been pulling a little bit more of a profit than usual, which, you know, that’s not what’s important, but I was kind of interested in buying the pub.”
“Oh shit,” Charlotte muttered, “you’re talking about me being all grown up, Lo, you guys are buying a pub?”
Behind Lola, Mal had thoroughly mixed his milkshake, and took the cup off of the mixer, putting a bright, paper straw into it and carrying it around the counter to sit himself next to Charlotte as they all spoke.
“It’s not finalized yet, but hopefully in the new year some time.” She sounds so fucking proud, and for a moment, Charlotte barely recognizes her from the girl she’d met twelve years ago, the standoffish, closed off, new kid at school. It was strange, knowing that the girl she’d first met reading a porno mag in the beer garden across the road, had a Masters in Business Administration, and was successfully running the business side of her family’s restaurant. Without sacrificing the quality, cheap price, or heart of Leo’s, Lola had taken over the the successful business, and helped it to thrive.
“That’s so exciting!” Charlotte’s eyes shone brightly as she leaned on the counter, beaming at her old friend, “and how’s Nikki; I heard Motley’s last tour went well, is he back yet?”
“He’s actually due back from the studio any minute,” Lola grins, “I wish I would have known you were coming, he could have brought the band.”
“It’s no worry, I mean we’re all coming for lunch on Saturday, right? After Eileen and Keanu fly in -?”
Mal made a noise of protest as Leo bent all the way over the counter and angled to take a sip of his milkshake.
“Sorry Mal, usually they’re a hundred, million dollars, but I will settle for one sip,” Leo told him, and Mal clicked his tongue, shaking his head in a way that looked so much like Lola.
“They’re four dollars, Tutu, it says on the menu, but you can have a sip because I love you,” he said, with an uncompromising sincerity as he angled the cup and straw to his grandfather. Leo’s expression melted to adoration, thanking the boy as he took a small sip, while both Lola and Charlotte looked on in awe as they watched the exchange.
“How did me and your dad ever make something half as sweet as you?” Lola cooed, and Mal gave her a toothy grin in response, before joyfully slurping down his milkshake. As if on cue, the door to the diner opened, and Nikki Sixx himself stepped in, shivering from the cold.
“Hey Nikki,” Nathan, the boy by the door, says with an easy familiarity, not even bothering to ask if he wanted a table, and Nikki greeted him kindly in turn, while greetings from other nearby staff were also offered to the newcomer. Leo offered a wave and a greeting, but his name was called from the kitchen and he followed the call quickly.
“Dad!” Mal yelled at the top of his little lungs, jumping from his stool and leaving his milkshake forgotten, to practically tackle the bassist who had just arrived. Nikki picks him up with ease, swinging him around before wrapping him up in a hug, making his way to the counter where Lola had taken a sip of her son’s milkshake, and Charlotte had watched the encounter with delight.
“Charlie Lee-Dingley,” Nikki smiled warmly at her, carrying his son over, who was hugging his father tightly, face hidden in the mess of Nikki’s black hair, “it’s good to see you, how long ago did you get in?”
“Like three hours ago,” Charlie laughed, honest, and his eyebrows rose as he moved behind the counter to press a kiss to Lola’s temple in greeting. Mal, in his arms, surfaces only to take his milkshake out of his mother’s hands, content enough to just be quiet and drink, tucked up against his father. Like this, they make a strangely picture-perfect family, and Charlotte’s heart warms at the sight. “Razzle’s sleeping off his jetlag at my parents’ place; how’s the new album coming along?”
“Apart from Vince walking out on us like a -” he hesitates for a moment, gaze flicking to his young son, “- dweeb,” he settles on, “we’re great, actually our new singer, John, he’s fantastic.”
“So Vince is really out for good?” Charlotte asks, and has to hold herself back from pulling out a notebook, journalistic instincts kicking in at the hint of a scoop in her field. But these are her friends, so she restrains herself.
“He’s being -” again he hesitates, which Charlotte finds strange considering Lola swearing with seemingly no consideration for her son earlier, “not nice, and his priorities weren’t with the band; it was for the best.” He concedes, and then puts Mal down when the kid starts wriggling, following after Leo into the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry, am I allowed to swear in front of him?” Charlotte asks, lowering her voice, and both Nikki and Lola grinned.
“Yeah, of course, we want Mal to know that swearing’s just words, so we’re okay with it, but we just try and keep from using language about other people that’s too harsh around him, like Vince is still a good Uncle to the kid, we don’t want him to think negatively about his family just ‘cos of business stuff, you know,” Nikki explains, and oh what the fuck, when did they become so reasonable.
“Of course,” Charlotte nods in understanding, before asking, “so is Vince coming to lunch on Saturday or...?”
“Between the band stuff and People Magazine telling the whole world that Peach is expecting a kid with that 90210 actor she left him for? Probably not,” Lola snickered, “but he gave me a call the other day and said he’s going to stop in and give Mal his Christmas gift while the band is at the studio some time next week.”
“He’s so fucking petty,” Nikki hissed, rolling his eyes. Lola wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a side-hug as a show of support, still so short next to him, like she had been ever since the end of high school. She bounces up on her toes and kisses Nikki’s cheek where he’s scowling.
“It’s cute that he got Mal a gift,” Charlotte points out, which Nikki begrudgingly agrees. Despite the fact that neither Lola nor her father celebrated Christmas, Nikki was raised to, and so were most of the kid’s not-technically-related family, like the Lees, the Austens, and the Neils, and Lola was more than happy to participate, in part, for the people she loved.
Lola and Leo did a lot for the people they loved, in their own way, and the diner was a testament to that. There were photos and articles all over the walls, posters, magazine covers, CDs on shelves, all of the bands, the people, the places, or the things they loved. There’s a wall that’s just covered in polaroids of everyone who’s ever worked here, photos of people who have become friends of Leo and Lola’s, the covers of Leo’s favorite albums spanning back through the decades, articles with glowing reviews of the diner, and three photos of Lola from her three different graduations; high school, her Bachelor’s, and her Master’s.
The first Summer Charlotte had returned after being hired by Rolling Stone, she’d come to see her first article up on the wall of Leo’s, right beside the photo he’d taken of them all from after their Junior prom, when they’d all come back to Leo’s to celebrate the night, and themselves; all of Motley Crue, Charlotte with Razzle, Lola, Peach, Eileen, even Keanu was there, beaming with his arm around Eileen’s shoulders. Now, when she looks to that photo, she not only sees her first article beside it, but she sees the one she wrote on Motley Crue, which she’d had them include in the actual printed article, a scanned image of the badge Lola had hand made for her at 17, black construction paper cut into a star that said ‘Punched Nikki Sixx’ in silver pen. There’s reviews for the movies that Keanu’s been in, TV shows Peach has been a part of, a New York Times article about a big case Eileen had won, and her business card, as well as the CD booklet that had come with the first Hanoi Rocks album, and a signed Motley Crue poster above it all. It was close to a shrine, a dedication to the people who mattered to Leo and Lola, a reminder that no matter how far they all went, they could still call the diner home.
Charlotte doesn’t look at it for too long, or else she knows she’ll start crying.
By the time Charlotte looks away from the wall, Nikki’s moved into the kitchen, put his hair up like she remembers him doing so many times before, back when he’d worked here in high school, and he’s chattering away to Leo about how the album’s coming along as they’re preparing dishes. Lola’s serving someone at the counter, and Mal’s standing beside her on his stool, diligently counting the money the customer’s given before handing it over to his mother to cash.
Charlotte recognizes it when Home Sweet Home starts playing around the same time Mal seems to, his whole little face lighting up, and he looks like he wants to call out to Nikki, but when he sees his father focused and working away in the kitchen, he stays quiet. But he sees Charlotte, and he trots over to her, bringing his stool, and standing across from her.
“Do you know this song?” He asks, seriously.
“Of course I do! My cousin and your dad wrote it!” She grinned, and Mal nodded, beaming, “you know, they started writing this when they visited me with your mom, because I was living very far away.” She tells him, “and I couldn’t come home, and it was pretty sad for all of us.”
“Why couldn’t you come home?” Mal asked, his little face all concerned.
“Because I was at school, and it was very important to me.”
“But you came back,” Mal frowned a moment, looking to his mother, and then over his shoulder at his father and grandfather, “because they came back, you didn’t all stay there.” It’s not a question; obviously Charlotte was here, he was just trying to wrap his mind around it.
“Yes, I came home; I always come home.”
“To Leo’s,” like it’s the only real answer, which, to him, who lived above the diner, it was. But as Charlotte considered, she let herself smile, let herself agree.
“Home to Leo’s.”
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chapter 1: flaxseed muffins and first times
We never really uncovered what happens after death, haven’t we? Some say that we go to heaven or hell, and possibly purgatory. Others say that we live again in another life form. Other sources also believed that the souls of our body are taken to the underworld, or as most of us know, House of Hades. Nonetheless, none of these are true. Well, maybe one of them is somewhat accurate. Ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not, only hell exists. Nobody lived a peaceful and pure life, hence why ‘heaven’ cannot be real— or that was at least written on the pamphlet I received a few hours ago. There are different types of hells; for example, Hell 34 only consists of English men who wore a blue polo shirt to play golf, while Hell 3 only have people who died heroically, making their country proud. As for me, yes I, I am going to Hell 127— the hell for people who had embarrassing deaths.
Here I am, in a fucking aeroplane, with 7 men and 5 women around me. I do not remember how I died, I really don’t. The lady with purple horns, who I assume is the flight attendant, distributed a pamphlet to every one of us, and it had everything written down. Not going to lie though, reading ‘you are dead and you are on your way to hell’ was something I was not expecting, nor did I want to hear. Then again, that is what life is in a way— you will face challenges and events that to do not appeal to you. Or I guess it would be more appropriate to say afterlife since I died with embarrassment.
‘Vaginas and Dicks, for your safety, not that it really matters since you all are practically dead, follow our goddamn instructions. Wear that safety belt, or something will happen to you— I personally do not know what happens since nobody has ever done it— and for now, please wear the green headphones in front of you, and a clip of your death will be displayed on your shitty screens. Enjoy devils.’ The purple woman said enthusiastically with the brightest smile, her red lips outlining the yellow tint of her teeth. Eagerly wanting to know why my death was considered ‘embarrassing,’ I grabbed the earphones, quickly placing them on my head. The small black screen in front of me suddenly lightened up; different splashes of colour decorating the plain rectangle. The different colours blended with another to form some sort of sphere, which only was shaped into you, soon followed by the background. I was in the restaurant with my little cousin, Seomin, eating the flaxseeds muffin I ordered as an attempt to be healthy for once in my life. Quite ironic that I’m now dead. Nonetheless, I was chewing on my muffin while Seomin was talking about how Mulan is the best Disney princess film ever—which she is not wrong—and I, being the best older cousin in this fucked up world— was not giving a damn. I was confused at this point since nothing happened. It got me wondering, did I die on the spot when I wasn’t listening to Seomin, or did my parents pray for Daddy Satan to come and collect me?
I let the video play, but I had to take a look at other people’s reaction to their death… honestly, some were quite hilarious. One pretty girl had her fingers on her scalp, mouth wide agape as she watches herself die to a point it was embarrassing. One rather young man with caramel-brown hair was trying his best to hold in his laughter as his joy-filled eyes was watching himself… die. Gosh, that sounded really wrong to say.
‘OH MY GOD HELP ___________ IS CHOKING! SOMEONE HELP MY COUSIN!’
Excuse me?
With no hesitation, my eyes turned back to the device the moment I heard my name tore out of Seomin’s throat, and I looked fucking ugly and in need of help; my eyes were wide open, my limbs were pathetically waving around, and I was making the world’s most unattractive noises which will surely act as a cockblock. Oh god, this cannot be the way how I died. One middle-aged man ran up to dying me, wrapped his arms around my chest as he kept pushing hard. Meanwhile, his nasty ass teenage son was just filming me choke to death. Literally. How nice of you kid. Although the video was still playing, it was way too damn obvious. I fucking choked on a healthy ass muffin, and died. How embarrassing is that? My parents called me a disappointment when I came home with a 84% on my Biology test, what more will they say when they find out that I didn’t know how to chew my food?
‘Oh damn, that’s how you died? You choked on a muffin? That’s both sad and embarrassing man’ a man’s voice beside me says, causing me to jump slightly from the sudden noise. I face turned towards him, and the sneeky-ass bitch was looking at my screen. This man was watching my death. What the fuck dude?
‘Excuse me, but who are you? This is quite a private moment don’t you think?’ I sharply asked, disliking that fact that this guy shamelessly watched me choke on a muffin. He just giggled in response, very similar to a child’s giggle. Did it warm my heart a bit? Yeah, maybe a little. But there was no way I was going to admit that. If he saw me dying in embarrassment, then so shall I.
‘Sorry, sorry. You were constantly shaking your head while watching so I thought yours was going to be quality conten— YO WOMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’
‘I’M GOING TO WATCH HOW YOU DIE CAUSE YOU SAW MINE CREEP!’ I screamed back as I took his earphones, trying my best to click on the play button. This would have been so much easier if this man’s strong hands were not stopping me from seeing the truth behind his body giving up on him. Without thinking, which is how I usually work anyway, I gathered all of my strength, pushing the doe-eyed man down, successfully hitting the play button. Ignoring the groan from the guy beside me, he was in a circle with a bunch of his guy friends, or probably his orgy mates who knows, and black-haired boy looked very lost.
‘Mark, truth or dare?’
‘Uhh, truth I guess?’ Mark, who is apparently the guy next to me pouting, replies unsurely as he bit his lower lip.
‘In detail, tell us how your first time went,’ one of the boys in the video asks, which only made alive Mark go pale. It wasn’t just a normal type of pale, he was PALE pale. Then it hit me like the way my mother hits me in the back of my head with a slipper. The bitch literally died of embarrassment. Slowly pulling the headphones off, Mark was still pouting as he played with his fingers. Now that I think about it, this guy is pretty adorable… adorably stupid.
‘Are you going to make fun of me now or?’ He asks softly, avoiding eye contact. Though now that I think about it, we never really made eye contact.
‘Not really. For fuck’s sake I choked on a goddamn flaxseeds muffin—‘
‘Oh my, you died from being healthy?’ Mark laughs, which to my surprise, had me smiling at his rather contagious laugh. Shamelessly nodding at his words, I then asked him a question I’ve been meaning to ask since seeing that video.
‘Tell me, how is it even possible to die like that?’ I asked as I crossed my arms. His bright smile instantly dropped; his facial expression alone could tell that he had no answer to your question. Feeling kind of bad for the kid, I told him to let it go, which for some reason, made him somewhat relieved. Believe or not though, I ended up talking to Mark for the whole plane ride. He was born and raised in Canada, and studied mechanical engineering… until he became friends with drug dealers and got high on a weekly basis. I also found out that his laugh is the funniest thing about the cute guy. As for my side, I ended up telling him about how I was an art teacher at an international school in Australia. But of course, I ended up making the art pieces for the students once they paid me. Now that I think about, maybe there is a reason to why I am destined to go to hell. Nonetheless, I made a friend on my way to Hell 127, how fucked up yet cool is that.
‘Alright pussies and cocks, we will shortly arrive to your destination: Hell 127.’
a/n: that’s chapter 1 everyone! mark and __________ already got to know each other, but this is just the beginning of one chaotic fluffy story ya’ll. if you’re interested in this fic, let me know that you want to be added to the taglist <3
taglist: @ta3ilmoon @lelenoir @murasakillmepls
back to materlist?
#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct u#mark#mark lee#mark x reader#mark x you#crack#fluff#fluffy crack#nct fic#mark fic#mark fluff#mark crack#nct fluff#nct crack
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