#no because if the ice king ever found her in the middle of the early morning sniffing ritual he'd leave her alone forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 18

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRR AU

Warnings: Language, crude talk, and the usual bad writing.

I had planned from the beginning to end this series after the next chapter and an epilogue, but call me crazy, I love it too much. So while this part of the story will end, I still plan to update with one-shots or stories from time to time. If you’re just done with it, let me know.

Also, this chapter felt a little off to me, so I apologize if it's terrible, but I think I ended on a good note.

Thanks @burnsoslow for prereading.and usage of your girl, who finally got to make her debut.

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

"Damn it, Riley! Pick up!" Liam grumbled as he lowered the cell phone from his ear and tossed it in the seat beside him. The royal jet had been in the air for a little over four hours already, and he'd grown frustrated at getting her voice mail each time. Surely, she was home by now.

Even though it was the middle of the night in Las Vegas, it was worth interrupting her. He had tried unsuccessfully to contact Riley since he packed his bags earlier and hastily headed for the airstrip. By this point, there must have been a dozen or so messages left on her phone without so much as a hint she'd gotten them.

While time wasn't an issue -- he'd get to Las Vegas one way or the other -- it was the desperation to hear from his new wife and tell her he knew precisely why she left.

And that he loved her.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he swiveled side-to-side in his luxury chair while tightly clutching his freshly poured scotch. The security footage he watched earlier that morning replayed in his mind again. There were no doubts about what it showed: Madeleine confronted Riley outside their quarters just minutes after leaving the ball. Without sound, however, no one could ascertain specifically what was said among the two women. It was clear though, Riley was not a willing participant in that conversation. When they saw the disk held up in the Countess' hands, and the look of sheer horror on his pussycat's face, that told Liam all he needed to know. This was a blackmail situation, plain and simple, that included assault; those flowers he found scattered on the ground when he returned to his quarters last night all made sense now. This act was deliberate and treasonous, and Liam would ensure his ex-fiancee paid handsomely for it.

After they viewed the footage several more times, the Royal Guard was immediately summoned to Krona to find Madeleine and take her into custody. Liam knew it was a long shot whether his guards could pull that sting off, but he was working with what he had at the moment.

Despite whatever happened next, there was one thing the King was confident of: He was prepared to give up his entire Kingdom to get his girl back. Returning to Cordonia without her was not an option.

Shaking his tumbler of partially melted ice cubes, Liam leaned forward and steadily poured another bottle of scotch into his glass. As soon as he sat back and raised the fresh beverage to his lips, he was startled by the ringing of his cell phone. In a rush to answer, he hastily set the drink aside and snatched his phone up from where he tossed it earlier.

"Hello! Love?" He answered, hopeful it was her.

"Hey, little brother. Love you too ... Say, do you know if the palace has a Spanish tickler or a breast ripper? Asking for a friend."

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion before rising from his seat, plopping a knee down on its cushioned bottom, and glancing to the back of the plane. "Leo? Why are you calling me? We're on the same damn plane. I'm looking right at you."

"Nevermind that. Listen, I figured out a way to take care of Madeleine once and for all. Behold ..." Leo held up a leather-bound book and waved it over his head while Liam squinted from the front of the plane to get a better look. "... The King Constantine Guide To Fucking Torture In The 21st Century; Father gave it to me after my investiture ceremony. The way I see it, there really is no other option here than to tie her to a tree in front of the palace, invite the public to watch for a modest fee, and do some cool shit with iron rods and spikes. I got dibs on the knee-splitter, though."

"Leo ..." Liam began to warn his brother how ridiculous that plan was before stopping himself and staring off into the distance for a moment in thought. "Wait ... is there anything about flaying in that book?"

"Hell yeah there is! And if you're interested in thumbscrews, my buddy, Pete, has a trunk full of them. He uses them for ass play, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting us borrow them to split Maddie's thumbs in half." Leo let out a maniacal laugh.

Liam chuckled, despite the peculiarity of the conversation. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm not interested -- to the contrary, actually. And while I appreciate your help in seeing that Madeleine is brought to justice, I think we better stick to more lawful means."

"Boo, you whore!" The line went dead with a click.

Liam held the phone away from his ear, watching Leo sink down into his chair in a huff. "Really?" He called back in agitation. Met with the silent treatment and a middle finger from his disgruntled brother, Liam rolled his eyes, then slumped back down into his seat. Maybe he'd try to call Riley again.

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

The phone on Riley's nightstand buzzed again. She knew it was another call from Liam, and while she felt remorseful for ignoring all of his calls and texts, she couldn't bring herself to look at or answer them quite yet. The sooner all ties between them were broken, she believed, the quicker he could forget all about her and the mess she made of everything.

But even her willpower was slipping. Riley slid her hand out from under the pillow and reached over to pick up her phone. Holding it to her chest, she contemplated for a second just reading his texts and returning his calls, but Madeleine had warned to end all contact with him. Obviously, she was curious about what he had to say, but it was too risky. I'm so sorry, Liam.

Hitting the power button on her cell, the light on the device faded to black before she tossed it in the nightstand drawer.

Early the next morning, Riley's eyes flickered open to the sound of a banging on her front door, followed by the incessant ringing of her doorbell. Feeling exhausted from a lack of sleep, mainly because of crying and unable to think about anything other than how she hurt Liam, Riley decided to ignore it. She just wanted to be left alone, and eventually, they'd give up and leave, right?

Except they didn't.

Annoyed, she let out a sigh and then eased herself up out of bed; the pain in her back was still a problem. Tossing a robe over her body, she slowly made her way down the stairs of her townhome -- each step excruciating -- until she finally made it to the door.

Twisting the lock, she opened the entry door, before letting out a sudden gasp at the tearful person standing on the other side.

"Oh my God, Riley! Y-You're alive! You're really alive!"

"Alyssa?" Riley's best friend from New York pulled her into a relieved hug, nearly sobbing at that point. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought something terrible happened to you, but now that I can see you're still among the living ..." she sniffled before pulling back and narrowing her blazing blue eyes at her friend. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you ever since you texted me that you were boarding a plane in Cordonia, and that something serious happened involving Tyler. You promised me you'd call as soon as you landed--"

"I know. I'm so sorry. It was late ..."

" -- and you didn't. Then I worried, even more, when you didn't answer any of my calls back. I had to book the first red-eye flight here to make sure you were all right." Finished with her rant, a huffing Alyssa's jaw immediately clenched. "Now, what did that shithead ex of yours do? I'll kill him if he hurt you, Ri. I might be small, but I'm scrappy like an alleycat. You know I'll claw his eyes out."

Riley let out a light chuckle; Alyssa was always overprotective of her and had a clever way with words, but quickly, that chuckle faded into a teary frown. "Oh, Lyss," she whimpered as her face fell into her hands.

Alyssa quickly wrapped her arms around Riley and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Aww, Riley. Sweetie, it's going to be okay," she soothed.

Stepping inside, Alyssa kicked the door shut and led them both over to the sofa. Sensing Riley was in pain -- and not just emotional -- she helped lower her troubled best friend onto the couch. "I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

The best friends had remained in contact over the last several weeks. It was Alyssa's frantic morning phone call over a month ago that alerted Riley to the news coverage of her impromptu marriage to Liam, having saw it on the news.

And while Alyssa was aware of everything about Cordonia and Liam, and how Riley fit into all that from their prior conversations, she listened intently while it was revealed to her the details of the incident with Madeleine and the video her ex-husband gave to the Countess.

Grabbing a tissue from the end table, Alyssa handed it to Riley. "So this cow confronted you with that disgusting video and basically blackmailed you into leaving, or she would release it to the press?" Riley nodded somberly.."Ugh, I want this treasonous bitch thrown in the dungeon, subjected to live-streamed daily anal fistings with giant Hulk gloves ... And Tyler, I want to break every bone in his rotten body, one at a time. And I want to leave him there afterwards, dripping just enough water on his lips, so he doesn't die of dehydration, screaming in agony for the weeks it will take to die of starvation."

Riley's face scrunched up. "God, Alyssa."

Alyssa shrugged. "What? I don't care; it's what they deserve for hurting you. Did you at least tell Liam what happened?"

This time, Riley shook her head. "No. Madeleine warned me if I told him, she would release the video, and then the council would likely force him to step down. I won't allow him to lose everything for someone like me."

Irritated, Alyssa pressed a palm to her forehead. "Why are you like this?"

"Like, what?" Riley asked in exasperation.

"That whole, 'someone like me,' part. He wanted to stay married to you. He made you the queen of his country. You've said he couldn't keep his goddamn hands off you for two seconds. And more importantly, you told me you have never felt more loved in your life, than you do when you're with him. The fact that you still question your worthiness to him blows my mind."

Alyssa reached for Riley's shaky hand, able to tell by the tears sliding down her cheeks and the soft whimpers that she'd touched on something. "You're his pussycat, Riley. Liam already lost everything when you left him. Tell me you know that."

Riley wiped at her face., her voice stifled, "I just wanted to protect him."

"I know." Alyssa smiled softly. "But you needed to give him the chance to decide what he wanted. You made it for him because you know he'd choose you, regardless if he lost everything else; that's how much he loves you, Ri. You can't protect someone who loves you by hurting them. Besides, he's the King; he can simply execute the council if he wants to -- Liam’s not going anywhere."

"You just HAD to add that last part in, didn't you?" Riley laughed, feeling a sense of ease as her mood lightened. It felt good to talk to someone who could help her make sense of everything and realize she hadn’t exactly made the best call by leaving and not telling Liam what happened. "But what do I do about this video? What if Madeleine releases it to the public?"

"Yeah, a video of a married woman having sex with her husband -- Oh, the shame!" she retorted. "Look, you'll be famous on Pornhub for a few weeks, and it'll fizzle out. I know that doesn't make it all better, but you have a lot of people who love you ... we'll be there for you if that happens. Besides, it's Gonzo Dick; I doubt anyone will wanna watch anyway."

Riley snorted out at the nickname she gave her ex-husband. "Stop making me laugh."

Alyssa cracked a grin. "Nah. If I can make you laugh at that asshole's expense and his crooked dick, then it's worth it."

"Well,” she breathed, “ I suppose I should get dressed and call Liam. Tell him what happened, and hopefully, he'll … forgive .." her voice trailed off at tasting an increasing collection of bile in her throat and a familiar rumble in her stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Riley frowned. "Damn it, why do I keep getting sick?"

After rushing to the bathroom with Alyssa's help, Riley came out moments later, flushed and perspiring. Alyssa, who waited outside the door to make sure she was all right, eyed her friend with grave concern. "Ri, are you sure you don't have a concussion? You said that Madeleine caused you to fall, and you complained you’ve been getting sick a lot. Is there any chance you hit your head too?"

Riley considered for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so. I mean, it all happened so fast I don't really remember, but my head doesn't hurt."

"OH NO! You have memory loss too, on top of the vomiting and a hurt back? Riley, you need to go to the hospital now. This is serious."

"Alyssa, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital," Riley dismissed and hobbled past her friend toward the kitchen. "You always worry too much."

Alyssa followed behind her, brows bumped together in a scowl. "Because you're a stubborn ass who never listens, that's why. You need to get checked out," she insisted. Riley paid no attention as made her way to the fridge; that reaction only served to piss Alyssa off. "You can ignore me all you want, but you know as well as I do, I'll just keep annoying the hell out of you until you do it … I'll sing every Dave Matthews song ever written -- On repeat."

Riley shut the fridge door and turned at the threat, giving her a dismayed glare. "You wouldn't."

Alyssa tilted her chin. "You know damn well I would. I have... so much to say, so much to say, so much --"

"Please stop! I'm going."

---------

At Valley Hospital and Medical Center, Drake sat slumped down in the waiting room of the E.R; a thawed ice pack covered his crotch. His increasingly irritated self caught sight of a nurse escorting yet another patient back for examination. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Tired of waiting, he cast the ice pack aside and marched straddle-legged to the triage desk where a beefy nurse with a scowl sat filing her nails. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He demanded bitterly.

The nurse remained focused on her nails and answered in a careless fashion. "You'll get called back when it's your turn, Mr. Walker."

"My turn? MY TURN? I've been here for 15 fucking hours waiting for my turn. I've watched one person after the next walk right in, get treated, and leave. Whose ass do I actually have to lick to get treatment around here?"

Unimpressed with his theatrics, she folded her arms on the desk and looked up at Drake with a glower. "Look. You got kicked in the wang by a hooker. Shit happens. It's not the end of the world. Go home, have a beer, and a good laugh. You'll live." She resumed her filing.

Drake ran both hands through his rumpled hair, letting out a sardonic laugh. "I cannot fucking believe you just said that to me. I suffer trauma on my transplanted dick, and the greatest healthcare minds in the world tell me to have a beer and laugh about it?" his voice shrieked.

The nurse blew on her nails. "That's what I said."

That snarky remark sent him even further over the edge. A red-faced Drake pounded two white-knuckled fists on the desk and leaned down into her space. "Now you listen here, lady. I demand to be seen right now, or so help me, I'll tear this whole goddamn place apart brick-by-fucking-brick! Do you understand me?"

Having none of that, the nurse, who was several inches taller than a startled Drake expected, sprung for her chair and loomed over him menacingly. Drake flinched when she rammed the nail file at him and threatened, "Now, you listen.You can either sit your ass down, or I will sit you down. Do you understand me?"

He didn't understand. He would never understand.

A security guard who heard the commotion casually approached the agitated pair and placed a firm hold on Drake's elbow. "Do we have a problem here, Betty Lou?"

She shook her head, sizing Drake up. "No, just some whiny-ass Karen griping about his dick."

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

Several moments later, Alyssa and Riley exited an Uber and wandered into the waiting area, making their way up to the triage line -- or what they thought was a line. It was actually Drake still standing there, continuing to protest his case to anyone who would listen and demanding to speak to someone in charge.

While Riley dug through her purse to retrieve her health insurance card, Alyssa couldn't help but be taken in by the fiery debacle taking place in front of them. She inched a little closer, unable to help herself; it was good drama and sucked her right in.

Catching a glimpse of Drake’s sour face, she cocked her head introspectively; there was something oddly familiar about the man in the denim shirt going off. Alyssa tapped her chin. Where have I seen him before?

Before long, the realization set in, and her eyes snapped wide open. She nudged Riley with an elbow and leaned over, whispering, "Hey, isn't that the guy from the news who had the penis transplant? It looks just like him."

Knowing precisely who that was by the description, Riley popped her head up to look. She hadn't known Drake well, only that he was Liam's best friend, and after having spent time together on the plane ride to Cordonia with him, that her maid-of-honor had given him several venereal diseases. "Drake?" she called out.

While Alyssa zoned in on his groin, curious as to what was in there, Drake broke away from the dispute and turned his focus toward the familiar-sounding voice. She was a connection to home and a long-sought-after friendly face. "Riley? Liam's insta-bride, Riley?"

She let out a light chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's how you would know me ... What are you doing at the hospital? Is your body rejecting the ..." Her embarrassed gaze dropped lower with a gulp. " ... thing?"

"No!" he barked. "I just got attacked by that ... uh, someone."

"You got attacked?" Shocked, Riley placed a hand over her chest. "Why would someone attack you? Are you okay?"

Feeling incensed by the memory, Drake shook his head and muttered. "It's a long story ... What about you? What are you doing here? Thought you were in Cordonia with Liam?"

She inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils and forced a smile. "It's a long story too."

Drake peeked over his shoulder at Nurse Ratchet, giving him a gimlet-eyed stare from behind her computer screen. He groused and turned to face Riley again. "I've got time."

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

Nearly 12 hours after takeoff, the royal jet touched down in sunny Las Vegas, an hour ahead of schedule. Liam and Leo stepped off the plane and strolled across the tarmac to the awaiting vehicle, where a smiling man held the rear passenger door open.

"Bastien," Liam greeted as he approached. "Good to see you again."

"Your Majesty." He bowed. "Likewise ... I have the rental car you requested, and the Queen's address is already programmed into the GPS. Should take no more than 30 minutes to get there."

"Perfect,” he replied, clapping Bastien’s shoulder.“Thanks for having everything ready to go."

Liam had contacted the head guard -- who was still jailed for non-support -- and gained him a day-long pass to provide security detail. Bastien was also to stay in contact with his guards to oversee the capture and detainment of Madeleine.

Bastien took their bags, and the brothers hopped into the back of the Escalade. Once they pulled away from the airport, the directions led the group west. The head guard glanced briefly in the rearview mirror as he drove on. “I want to thank you for giving me a second chance. It’s nice to be out of that place, even if just for the day.”

Liam smiled back. “Not a problem, good man. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more for the job than you … though I’m not sure why. Anyway, do you have any updates on the Madeleine situation?”

“Yes, sir. I contacted my colleagues again just before you arrived. Countess Madeleine was taken by surprise when our guards arrived at her family estate in Krona. Once in custody, she was immediately transported to Valtoria for detention, exactly as you requested.”

"That's terrific news ... Wait ...Did you say, Valtoria?" Liam asked with puzzlement in his tone.

"Yes, sir. As you requested."

"Man, please tell me Mads tried to fight them off, and they had to use the taser on her," Leo insisted as he held his crossed fingers in the air. "A billy club ... a rubber hose ... something."

"There may have been a brief verbal exchange and some threats, but the Countess promised if they permitted access to her computer to send a quick email, she would go with them peacefully and without further protest. There didn't seem to be any harm in doing so, and she followed through with her word. Sorry to break it to you, Prince Leo, but no tasers were harmed in her capture."

"Well, fiddle shit." Leo glanced over at his brother --who was still scratching his head -- in disappointment. "If only I'd been able to get that shock collar on her while I was engaged to her, you wouldn't be in this mess right now. She just squirmed too much. I’m sorry I let you down, little brother."

"It's fine, Leo; it's not the first time,” Liam said dryly before turning his head away from Leo to face the front again. "Can we get back to Madeleine being taken to Valtoria? I never requested that. An accused of the Crown is always placed in the palace dungeon. There aren't even cells in Valtoria to hold her in. What am I missing here?"

Approaching a stoplight, Bastien lightly pressed the brakes, then met Liam’s gaze in the mirror. “The orders I was given to pass along to the guards from you earlier were clear in your text: Once she’s taken into custody, she is to be sent to Valtoria and placed in the cage with the monkey until further notice. That’s what they --”

“Mongo! They put her in the cage with Mongo?” Liam exploded before pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no point in asking how that message got mixed up. “Goddamn it, Leo! Why are you, you, sometimes?” He ran a swift hand down his face and turned to glare at his brother. “Do you realize they consider that cruel and unusual punishment? Did you ever stop to consider how much shit I'm going to hear over this if this gets out?" He let out a sharp breath and threw his hands in the air."How? How did you do it?"

"It's simple pimple, Liam. When you went to the bathroom, I grabbed your phone," he replied bluntly with a shrug. "And according to page 24 of Father's torture book: It's not considered cruel and unusual punishment, as long as she has food, water, and clean shelter -- which she does. Or ... if she's housed with a member of the royal family -- which she is. Mongo is the heir to the throne, so we've got that covered too. So just relax, little bro; Leo’s got it all taken care of for you."

Liam dropped his chin to his chest, then let out a weary breath. “Bastien, call the guards and have them move her to the palace at once.”

As Bastien placed the call, Liam shifted in his seat so that he was staring out the window. He put a palm over his mouth to conceal the curved lips that formed a devilish grin, trying to contain the unbearable urge to bust out laughing. Oh, Maddie ... I hope you and Mongo had one hell of a time together.

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

Back at the hospital, Riley situated herself on the gurney while a nurse prepared to check her vitals and ask general health questions.

In the next bay over, separated by a thin sliding curtain, Drake was finally attended to after Riley reluctantly, but willfully, played up her celebrity status. Once she threatened to have the hospital shut down -- which she doubted was even possible on her end -- the proverbial red carpet was rolled out for both of them; she was still a queen, afterall.

Steps were then taken to ensure they both received the royal treatment, so to speak. That wasn’t typically how Riley preferred to handle situations; she hated big fusses over her. But in the end, she did help one of Liam’s oldest friends finally get the medical attention he needed, so it was worth trying.

The blood pressure cuff on Riley’s arm squeezed tighter just as one of the doctors stepped inside and slid the curtain all the way closed. His cheerful greeting drew Riley's fixed gaze away from the changing numbers on the monitor beside her bed, and she smiled up at him.

The doctor was tall and thin, with thick spectacles perched near the tip of his nose. He gave a brief nod to Alyssa, who was sitting in a chair at Riley’s bedside, rubbing her shoulder. Scanning the patient chart, he spoke without looking up, "Queen Riley, it says here you suffered a fall?"

"I'm just Riley, please," she requested.

The doctor looked up from the paperwork and nodded with an understanding smile. "Of course."

After the initial exam concluded, Alyssa remained behind after the doctor ordered x-rays and transport had wheeled Riley down to radiology.

Bouncing her crossed leg as she scrolled through her phone, Alyssa tried to bide her time until Riley returned. An air conditioning vent overhead that she didn’t realize drowned out so much noise around her, suddenly flipped off. Able to catch the conversation on the other side of the curtain better, she listened with a broken heart as Drake reluctantly described to an attending, the worst days of his life. Alyssa shuddered as he recalled the moment his penis fell off, rolled across the bed, and dropped onto Ethan Ramsey’s leather shoe during an exam. “That poor man. I just want to hug him,” she muttered.

Her little ears perked when the doctor mentioned he was “going to have a look at it.” In her curious mind, there were no doubts that she was too. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a peek at the first transplant of its kind; no way was she going to miss out on that.

Alyssa slid to the edge of her seat and raised her hand to up to the curtain, easing a tiny portion of it aside. Her blue eyes crinkled with frustration at a nurse who was blocking her view. “Move your ass,” she whispered to herself.

Unable to get a good view, she gave up that spot and eyed the other opening in the curtain at the far end of the room. Sliding off her chair to a crouching position on the floor, Alyssa crab-walked as fast as she could without falling off balance until she made it to the other side. Crooking a stealthy finger along the seam of the curtain, she hoped and prayed Drake’s genital exam wasn’t through yet. What her eyes saw on that gurney when she pulled the fabric aside caused her heart to jolt out of her chest.

Alyssa cupped a hand over her gaping mouth before stepping back and letting the curtain fall loosely shut again. Dropping her hand limply at her side, staring blankly at nothing, she mouthed, “Oh. My. God.”

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

Down in the radiology department, Riley sat patiently in her wheelchair, waiting for the tech to return to take the x-rays. Enjoying the lighter feeling of having an empty bladder again, she let out a contented sigh; she was about to bust earlier. That mandatory urine sample couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.

Left alone to ruminate in her thoughts, Riley wondered about those phone calls she ignored last night from Liam. The regret she felt over her actions the last 26 hours continued to mount up. And it took a heart-to-heart with her best friend to really put things into perspective. Her decisions weren’t the best course to take, even if they were done with the most loving of intentions.

There was a lot to make up to Liam, and she only hoped that it wasn’t too late. Could he even forgive her for all of it?

She wished he was there with her right now. If she knew him the way she thought she did, he’d be standing around telling inappropriate jokes to make her laugh or embarrass her with his silly antics. It was like Liam could be two different people sometimes: Kingly and stoic around everyone else, but the second it was just him alone with her, he was such a big kid. Somehow, she could bring out his true self; the one where he felt comfortable enough to be silly and playful. And as much as she tried to play them off, those little pet names he gave her -- she chuckled to herself as they popped into her head -- were funny. What the hell even was a knucklehead mcspazzatron?

“Miss Brooks” Riley shook herself of her thoughts as the x-ray tech returned and made her way over. “I apologize that took so long.”

Riley smiled up at her. “No need to apologize… Are you ready for me now?”

“Not exactly,” she teased in such a cheery tone, Riley slightly lowered her eyelids, holding her gaze. “You most likely won’t be getting x-rays today, sweetie.” She held a fisted hand out to Riley and opened her palm to reveal the small object inside. “You’re pregnant.”

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

Permanent Tags:

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko@callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow@jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer @queenrileyrose @cordonia-gothqueen

FRI Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @busywoman @sfb123 @masterofbluff

#fools rush in #liam x mc #liam x riley #king liam #prince liam #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #bbrandy2002

138 notes · View notes

renova-writes · 3 years

Text

The Silver Shadow

Summary: The Avengers come up with a plan to capture you. Unfortunately, you are not a stupid girl. They know this and must come up with something that is foolproof. Everyone knows that this is their only chance for decades to get you and they are not messing around. You make your way to one of your many safe houses only to get captured. But, as it turns out, the Avengers want you alive.

Words: 2,007

Warnings: swearing, violence, talk of suicide

Tags: @shadowolf993 @daisy116

Other Chapters: Masterlist

A/N: I’ve got my plan for this fic FINALLY laid out. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for this chapter. I’ve been busy with the end of the school year and stuff like that. Anyways I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do you should totally ask to join the tag list for this fic or request your own. And remember: comments and asks are always okay. 🖤🖤

Chapter 4: What was the point?

"Where do you think she is?" Rhodes asked. Fury had called him in from the Military to find you. He and the rest of the Avengers were in Tony's penthouse living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off just how high up the room was. Not only displaying the might of the building, but it also had a near-perfect view of Manhattan. The city that never sleeps was illuminated by the pinkish-orange glow of the sunset.

"According to my calculations and the report of the Special Ops on the train that reported her. She is approximately 80 miles outside of Quebec. "Vision said, "Whether she is aware of that proximity or not, our best move would be to have a watch in the city."

"Definitely," Steve agreed, "I'll talk to the mayor and call in a few favors."

"What if she never makes it to Quebec? She's probably not stupid. What if all those eyes cause her to stay off the grid? Then we'll never catch her." Tony criticized. It was true; you weren't stupid. If you got wind of an alert to look out for someone who looked even remotely like you, you were going to stay as far away if you could.

One time, you had left a witness, and they reported you to the police. Like clockwork, they put out a wanted alert. It was 1985, and you were in Los Angeles, so they had more significant issues to deal with. You got lucky because, at the time, it was the height of the terror caused by the Night Stalker.

To be honest, you had never really understood serial killers. You were technically one, but the psychopathic killers—the crazy cannibal sadists. HYDRA had checked your mental health, and the results had come back pretty standard. There was a bit of crazy in you, but hey, who doesn't have any?

Since everyone was so scared of the Night Stalker, they didn't pay too much attention to someone who had killed one minor, uninfluential politician. No one reported you, and no one cared. You left Los Angeles unscathed but a little rattled.

What if someone had reported me?... What would happen?... Thank God it didn't happen this time?... I need to be more careful…

You had learned your lesson. If you got wind someone was looking for you, they were never, ever going to find you—end of story.

"He's right," Bucky said as he walked into the room. After Steve talked to him, he went back to his room to clean up before joining the rest of the Avengers in coming up with a plan to catch you. "She's careful. There's too much on the line for her."

"Then what do we do?" Wanda asked, "How do we catch her?"

"Hear me out… We still do a watch and tell the mayor. But we don't release it to the public. We let law enforcement know and send them as many troops as we can." Clint suggested.

"With undercover cops?" Banner asked.

"Exactly," He responded. "Let Y/N think that everything is normal. That no one's looking for her."

"All in favor?" Steve asked. Everyone voted yes. It was a good idea. You didn't know it yet, but it was an excellent idea. "I'll let the mayor and police chief know then."

Steve walked out and made his way to one of the comm rooms. The rest of the avengers looked among one another. They were all on edge. Sam Wilson, who had absolutely no idea how dangerous you were, was the least worried. To him, you were just another common criminal who would be caught. On the other side of the spectrum, Bucky could barely keep himself together. After excusing himself, he walked to the bathroom, locked the door, and wasn't heard from for a few hours.

Everyone else waited for a while to see if they were still needed before making their way to various spots. Some, like Nat and Wanda, went to their rooms. Banner went to the lab with Tony, and Clint went to the gym.

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

You were no better off than you were yesterday. Maybe you had clothes, sure, but you also managed to have sex with an asshole and assault the guy. Alex wasn't going to remember it, but that didn't make it right. Out of all of the things you had done, your conscience said that was the worst. You had acted like a monster. Hopefully, he would be okay. You wouldn't.

After storming out of the King's Treason, you found yourself on a dirt road through a forest. It was the middle of the night, and all the stars were awake. You wondered what was up there. After watching the Battle of New York unfold on television, you were well aware that you weren't alone in the universe. Thor had made that clear. But you still didn't know precisely what there was. In your mind, the galaxy was rich with alien life. Things that looked like humans but with rainbow-colored skin. Somethings that looked nothing like humans. You wondered if it was like Star Wars showed it. That would be cool. But you didn't know, because you had never seen an alien in real life before.

When you stared at the stars, there was always one that stood out to you. It wasn't the biggest or the brightest, but it was the most beautiful. If someone asked you if you wanted to go to space and you could go to any star or place, that would be the one. It didn't matter if nothing was there, but you knew there was. You just knew. The moon was bright tonight too. It dimed out the light of the surrounding stars and made the night on Earth a little brighter.

There was only one road to follow. Since all roads lead somewhere, you picked one and started walking. The night was peaceful and quiet. That was what you needed. You looked at your watch that had a compass on it. You were heading southeast.

The scenery remained the same for the first few miles. Suddenly the forest began shifting into the countryside. The rolling hills morphed into gated suburbs. A quick glance at your GPS told you that you were in Quebec.

Quebec…. I have a safe house here… Finally some peace and quiet…

You walked for an hour until you found the road that led to the neighborhood your house was in. It had been a few years since you had gone to his house. Everything was the same, but a little different. The streets were emptied in the early morning air, but it wasn't the same Quebec that you remembered. The barbershop on the corner was gone. The window that had once said Chez Berruby's Barbers had been changed to an ice cream store.

The more you looked, the more you saw the changes. That was never a good sign. But you ignored it and kept walking down the street until you got to Rue Saint-Paul. That was your street. You were right; everything was changing. Every single house on the street looked well kept and trimmed. The bushes were perfect, and the grass was green. Then there was your safe house. The yard was brown, and the windows were cracked. It stuck out like a sore thumb, which meant you would stick out too.

It's only for a night… Or two… We'll move on again…

You looked in a small notebook you kept in your supply belt for where you had hidden the key. Under the pot shaped like a frog. Was it on the front steps? No. After searching the side gate area, the garage, and the balcony over it, you concluded that there was no frog pot. There might have been a few years ago. But a lot can happen in a year. Let alone three or four.

"Well fuck it," you muttered. You got a knife out and picked the lock. A click told you the door was unlocked, so you went inside. You opened the door and stepped inside. The house was musty and smelled like cat pee. You followed the hallway past the stairs and into the kitchen.

To be honest, you didn't know what you were expecting when you opened the fridge. Definitely not food. To your surprise, there was a moldy pizza and flat Coca-Cola. You were not that desperate. After rummaging through the cabinets, you found some cans of kidney beans. The expiration date was last week, but they'd have to do.

Halfway through the can of rancid beans, you heard the fists banging against the door.

"Y/n Y/L/N? We know you're in there." A deep voice yelled, "Turn yourself in now, and we can do this quickly and quietly. I will give you a minute to come out, and then we will come in. Understood?"

No. They were most definitely not understood. You would not be going out without a fight. They were probably going to execute you right there on the steps. If they wanted to kill you. They were going to need to catch you first.

How about a game of cat and mouse?... Maybe this mouse will bite you in the nose... Who nose...

But you couldn't take it anymore. Fear took over. Instead of fighting, your first instinct was to hide. You flew upstairs and flung yourself into the top shelf of a closet. Who cared if it wouldn't be able to hold you? You were hiding for your life. Fear crept up your spine as you saw the end come into sight. Movies always showed the last moments of someone's life as an emotional roller coaster. Maybe if you lived longer, you could have seen some more movies. But they were right.

What had you done with your life? Lie? Kill? For what? For who? What was the point? You had never trusted anyone. Never loved anyone. You didn't even know what love was supposed to feel like. If you could live again, you would try to be a regular person. To live and love. For a trip to Starbucks for an Iced Latte be a normal thing. Not something you had to plan for months for. For friends. People you could trust and care about.

You wished that you could be dying in a huge comfortable bed, with your lover holding your hand. Surrounded by friends and family. Reflecting on your life and having no regrets. You could have a beautiful funeral where people flocked from near and far to celebrate the life of the girl they all loved. Your family would get so many flowers that all the bees of the world would come and dance on your grave.

But that was a fantasy.

Instead, you were alone. Scared out of your mind on a shelf in a closet. In a house that wasn't yours. Alone.

Tears fell down your face as you compared what your life could have been to what it was. You almost wanted them to kill you so it could be over.

It's all over… And I'm… Happy?...

"Anyone in here?" A soldier called. You were surprised he couldn't hear your heart hammering through your chest. Or the hurricane in your eyes.

The footsteps of three other soldiers entered the room and began tearing it apart.

Five… Four… Three… Two… On-

"Found her!" He shouted. He opened the closet door and barely had time to get the sentence out before you shot him. You didn't even have room in your mind to feel sorry. You were numb and tired and scared for your life.

You jumped out of the closet and aimed your gun at the next guy.

He fell down. And the next. You only got shots onto those two before everything went dark.

Am I dead?... Please tell me I'm dead… Shit…

The darkness faded into blinding white. After that faded, you saw that you were in a prison cell. And not dead. Fuck.

109 notes · View notes

lilacyennefer · 3 years

Text

Cardigan

A/N: Ever since I heard the song ‘Cardigan’ by Taylor Swift I knew that I’m going to write a fic based on the song, so here it is now! I was working on this piece the whole weekend because I wanted it to be really good, I honestly don’t know if I succeeded because I’m truly insecure about this one. Feedback is always appreciated ♥️ (I do NOT own the song or the lyrics, all credit goes to the original authors)

WARNING: none, maybe just a mention of a sick mother

For Angel, you’re always going to be that one thing in life that he will regret forever.

You were high school lovers, but even after graduating, you stayed together.

Your parents knew each other, your mother had a flower shop in front of Felipe’s butcher shop, on the other side of the road, and your mother was best friends with Marisol, meaning you spent your whole childhood with the Reyes brothers.

You were in the same age as Angel, and from the very first moment you met as children, the two of you clicked.

The two of you went into the same classes, always sat next to each other, talked about everything, until one day something shifted between you two, and you started falling in love with each other.

After high school, neither of you went to college, you helped your mother out with her flower shop, she needed some help, and Angel was prospecting to the local MC.

You stayed together, until you didn’t.

Remembering back to the days when the two of you were so young, and so in love, when you were dancing under the streetlights in the middle of the night on the empty streets of Santo Padre, or when you parked your car somewhere to make out without getting disturbed.

Thinking back to these memories, you still feel how Angel’s hands were sneaking their way up under your sweatshirt.

But almost 10 years passed since that one night happened that changed everything.

You wanted to surprise Angel at the clubhouse, you knew there will be a party tonight, he mentioned it to you, but you weren’t sure about joining him, so you said maybe, you’ll show up.

Angel took this as a no, he knew you didn’t like parties that much, you always went just because of him.

Bishop gave prospect Angel some free time, and many beers later Angel found a woman in his lap who wasn’t you.

Was he too drunk to refuse the flirting of the beautiful woman sitting on his lap, or was he young and foolish? Thinking back, Angel still doesn’t know the answer to that.

But that night lives in both of your memories painfully vividly, when you stepped into the clubhouse looking for Angel, only to find him making out with another woman.

Angel didn’t see you at first, he only saw you when you threw a drink on both of them, making them gasp, Angel angrily looked for the person who soaked both of them in the alcoholic drink, only to find you standing in front of him, angry as ever.

“It’s over!” Is all you say as you storm outside of the clubhouse, Angel trying to catch up with you, but you were already in your car, driving away.

That was the last moment he saw you, since that night you left the town, and you only came back to visit your mother in secret.

Angel Reyes regrets a lots of things in his life, but his ultimate regret is letting you go, and fucking up his relationship with you.

He was convinced that your love was that king of love that happens only once in 20 lifetimes. He once talked about this with Coco, and his answer to Angel was that he was young, and he knew nothing.

But, he knew that every kiss of yours lingered like a tattoo kiss, reminding him of the matching tattoo you got with him after both of you turned 18.

Back then, it seemed like a good idea, you were so convinced that you’ll stay together forever, nothing ever will break the two of you apart, so one night you presented your idea to Angel, who was more than down to it.

Deciding what you wanted was a lot more difficult, it caused not one argument until you found the idea that you both liked.

Both of you wrote down each other’s initials, so you got an “A” tattooed on you with Angel’s handwriting, and Angel got the first letter of your first name with your handwriting.

It was small, but meaningful.

The past 10 years Angel couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs, his questions haunted him.

What if that night you came earlier, before he fucked it all up?

What if it was just the matter of time, until he fucked it up?

What if it never happened and the two of you were still together?

What if you were already married, and have children?

The thought of seeing you walking down the aisle in a white dress made Angel’s heart clench, knowing it will never happen.

At first, he tried to find you, he went to your mother’s flower shop every day to ask about you, but your mother sent Angel away every time, although her heart broke for both of you.

Your mother adored Angel, and Angel adored your mother. She was always supportive of your relationship with the biker, she always said that Angel looks at you like you created the whole universe, with such love and adoration that she never saw before.

But you were her daughter, so she protected you.

10 years.

So many things happened in 10 years.

You cursed Angel for a very long time after you left, completely heartbroken.

You didn’t understand how he could do this to you, when everything was perfect.

But maybe that was the problem, because in this world, perfection is rare, and when you find it, it won’t stay with you for long.

Especially not in the world where Angel lives in.

Now as you were driving back to Santo Padre, thinking about that you have to move back because your mother got sick and she can’t take care of the shop anymore, made your stomach drop unpleasantly.

You knew that it was just the matter of time until Angel will know that you’re back in town, either he will see you, or someone else will, and they’ll tell him.

With every inch of your body, you wanted to push your feelings away that you still feel for Angel.

He not only left a mark on your body with the tattoo, but also on your heart and soul. He was your first love, your only love for that matter, your best friend, and even dare to say that, your soulmate.

After arriving back to Santo Padre, you moved in with your mother, so you could help her with the housework, and the next day, you started your day in the shop, more nervous than you ever were.

With a dry throat, and a knot in your stomach, you parked your car in front of your mother’s shop.

You took a few deep, calming breaths, and looked around the street, it was early morning, so it wasn’t that busy yet.

Getting out of the car, your eyes unconsciously shifted to the butcher shop in front of you, making your heart drop when you saw an old man reading his morning news paper in front of the shop.

It’s like he could sense it, Felipe turned his head towards your direction, his eyes finding you.

You cursed when you saw Felipe looking at you, but you ignored him as you opened the shop, preparing yourself for a scold from your mother, since she still were friends with the oldest Reyes man.

It was now just the matter of time until Angel hears that you’re in town. You try to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation, you don’t know anything about him other than him now being a full patched member of the MC.

The first few hours in the shop were relaxed, some of your mom’s friends came in to ask how she was doing, but other than that it was all quiet.

Your back was turned against the door as you were placing some decorations on the wall when you heard the bell ring, signaling you that someone entered the shop.

“Just a second!” You say without turning back as you do some finishing touches on the decoration.

“Do you still like iced coffee?” You hear a deep voice that you know so much ask, making you turn in horror.

After Felipe saw you, he immediately called Angel, letting him that you’re in town.

Felipe always loved you, he thought you were a good influence on Angel, and the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Angel got the phone call, his heart dropped, and he knew he had to do something. The hopeless romantic in Angel, a part of him only you saw and he buried deep down after you left, hoped that you would get back together with him, but realistically Angel just wanted to see you, and apologize to you.

He had no excuses, but he knew that you deserved an apology at least.

So Angel got himself together, he took a shower, he put on his nicest shirt, and his special cologne that he only used rarely.

When you were younger, and you had an argument with Angel, the next day he always brought you your favourite iced coffee as a peace offering.

Angel hoped you still liked iced coffee as he was picking it up from your favourite place in town, then heading towards the flower shop.

You knew this moment would come, when you meet with Angel again after all those years, but you could never prepare for this moment.

Angel looked amazing, he aged like fine wine, he definitely looked a lot more mature than when you left him, but you still could feel his playful charm that you loved so much, what now was invisible under his nervousness.

“I do.” You nod, your voice is small.

Angel hesitantly steps closer to you, placing the cup of coffee down on the counter in front of you.

He was more nervous than he thought he would be, as he was looking at you, he suddenly forgot everything that he wanted to say.

“Y/N, look.” Angel sighs, he nervously shifts his weight on his legs “I don’t have any excuse about what happened. I know it’s late, but I want you to know that I’m really sorry what happened. I regret it every day of my life.”

You listen to his words, tearing up the old wounds, making your heart ache once again.

You’re silent for a while, not knowing what to say as you look at the man who used to mean the world to you.

“Here’s my phone number and address.” Angel says as he places a small paper next to your coffee “In case you want to talk.” And with that, he left the shop.

This is definitely not how Angel planned to see you again. During getting ready, and picking up the coffee for you, he prepared a full speech to you, telling everything he wanted in a few minutes. But when he saw you he froze, being more nervous than he ever was.

Once again, Angel cursed himself as he drove away from your shop, leaving you alone with your coffee.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything to Angel since he stormed out of the shop, leaving you speechless. You silently picked up the iced coffee, its smell bringing a smile to your lips from the old memories, when you were happy with Angel.

While sipping the coffee, you constantly stared at the piece of paper that was still on the counter where Angel left it. Finally picking the paper up it felt really heavy in your hand, the emotional weight of it sitting heavily on your soul.

Angel made his first move, and now it’s clearly your turn to decide what to do. So many happened during 10 years, so many changed, and so many stayed the same.

You were still hurt by what he did, but you weren't angry anymore, but you always avoided Angel because you were afraid of your feelings, afraid that you’ll get hurt again just by seeing him, and you didn’t want to put yourself through that. But you undeniably still had feelings for Angel, something that you could never get rid of, your mother always said that you were soulmates, and that’s why you could never truly get over him.

Making the decision that at least you should get the chance to talk to him, after closing the shop you picked up some food from a local restaurant, and headed towards the address that he gave you.

Parking your car in front of his house, you saw his bike parked there, signaling you that he’s at home, hopefully alone.

You nervously knock on his door, holding your breath as you wait for him to open the door, seconds later the door opens, finding yourself face to face with a very surprised Angel.

“Are you hungry?” You hold up the bag full of food “I figured we should talk.”

Angel nods, opening the door wilder, letting you step into his house.

“I brought our old favourites, I hope that’s okay.” You say nervously.

You look up at Angel, you can see the earlier nervousness on his face.

You take a deep breath and say “I think it's easier if we talk first.”

“I’m sorry—“ Angel starts, shaking his head.

“What happened that night?” You cut him off, not caring about the excuses.

Angel sighs as he drops his shoulders “I honestly don’t know. I had too many drinks and I fucked it up. I could blame it on the drinks, but I won’t. I don’t want to bullshit you. I fucked it up, and I regret it every fucking minute of my life.”

You silently watch him. You always knew when Angel lied, you don’t know how, but you could always feel when he’s not telling the truth. But right now, you can tell that he’s saying the truth, and he’s actually sorry for what happened.

“I believe you.”

Your words made Angel let out a loud sigh, making him feel like years and years of pain was lifted off his shoulders.

“Y/N.” Angel whispers your name “I need to know. I need to know if there’s still a chance.”

Angel couldn’t wait with his question, he knew it was risky, but the uncertainty was slowly killing him, and he already wasted a decade, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

“I’m honestly not sure, Angel.” You shake your head “Let’s just eat, talk, and see what happens, okay?” Angel nods “It’s more than I could hope for.”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed, You put me on and said I was your favorite.

Taglist: @gemini0410 @rosieposie0624 @blessedboo @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @mrsmarvelous1995 @phoenixhalliwell @rocketqueen @witching-hour @starrynite7114 @bellisperennis0

#clayton cardenas #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader

131 notes · View notes

beatricethecat2 · 3 years

Photo

"This is nice," Myka says, sipping her beer while surveying the bar.

"Consuming alcohol in a public house?" Helena asks.

"Yeah," Myka says, eyes angling down as she picks at her label. "Working with Pete...this wasn't a thing I could do much. Then Steve and I had a drink here, and I remembered what it was like. I used to go on my own in DC just to unwind. Feels like a lifetime ago."

“In many ways it was," Helena says, idly stiring the ice left in her drink. "Could you ever have imagined the company you now keep?"

"I don't think so," Myka says, shifting closer to Helena. "But I like it, a lot. Doing this with you feels...normal. Two people, spending time together, not a care in the world."

"You care for nought?" Helena says, fingers tracing a line from Myka's thumb to her wrist where her hand rests on her thigh.

"Ok, one care," Myka says, eyes flicking up to meet Helena's. "Hey, I know that look. We said we'd stay for the band tonight, not just hole up in our room."

"Is there not another band tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but we said we'd stay for this one." Myka slips her hand from Helena's.

"As you wish," Helena says, settling back on her stool, frustration evident in her tone.

"More drinks, ladies?" the bartender says. "The band's about to start."

"I shall need one," Helena grouses.

"Stop being dramatic," Myka snips.

"Fine," Helena snaps. "Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf, please," she instructs the bartender.

"Comin' right up." The bartender steps away to complete the order.

"Oh, we're getting drunk now, are we?" Myka quips.

"When in Rome..."

"I'd actually like to see that, a drunk H.G. Wells," Myka says, poking Helena in the arm.

Helena flinches. "You may very well if you keep behaving as such."

"Seriously though, when's the last time you drank enough to let your guard down, even a little."

"In the company of others? Not in recent memory. And you?"

"Same."

"Here you go," the bartender interrupts, setting the tumbler on a napkin in front of Helena. "Another beer?" she asks Myka.

"You know what? I'll have the same." Myka waves her bottle at Helena's drink.

"Cavalier, Ms. Bering."

"We'll keep each other in check. We deserve to get super tipsy, at least."

"Color me intrigued."

The band strikes its first cord just as Myka's drink arrives. She tugs Helena's arm, and they relocate to a table near the stage.

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

The Adventures of Bering and Wells ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 4 Title: New Orleans: Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Summary: Myka and Helena follow whim rather than duty, driving south, detouring around Washington DC, avoiding a second emotional rabbit hole so early on. After a wi-fi-free week in a cabin, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, they feel ready to tackle urban density again. ("The Rockies are better," Myka declares. "We'll go there, too.) Vowing to stay as touristy as possible, the pair head towards history-filled New Orleans. But far too soon their carefree trip hits a snag and they're in need of Warehouse help.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

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

***BONUS SCENE***

"Exactly how touristy have you been?" Abigail asks.

"Pretty touristy," Myka answers.

"Practically flâneurs," Helena says, grinning as Myka looks up at her with sparkly eyes.

"Well, that narrows it down," Steve mutters, typing into the keyboard. "Let's start with your hotel. Why'd you pick the carriage house?"

"The lack of adjoining suite and the king-sized bed."

"Helena!" Myka smacks Helena on the arm. "Because it's cute and charming."

"So this ghost isn't listed on their website? Wedding dress woman, Civil War soldier, dancing patio woman?" Steve asks.

"No. And the manager hadn't recognized the description I gave," Helena explains.

"So not all ghosts," Abigail says.

"If seeing them is normal," Myka says.

"Let's say the ones on their website are but H.G.'s isn't," Steve says.

"Are we to assume I've been 'whammied' then?" Helena says.

"You freeze in place. I have to shake you out of it," Myka explains.

"Perhaps I'm studying the phenomenon."

"You're never that still. It's creepy."

"Then I think we should consider it," Abigail says.

"Where else have you been?" Steve asks.

"Um, everywhere?" Myka answers. "That blacksmith's bar you and I went to. And The Gas and Lights Museum--"

"Such memories. So many details wrong," Helena gibes.

"On a carriage ride--"

"Highway robbery! Sixty-five dollars for a turn around the park. And not in the least authentic."

"You said it was nice!"

"I said it was familiar. The sound of it took me back," Helena says.

"I thought you'd like it." Myka leans back and looks up at Helena questioningly.

"I enjoyed the company quite thoroughly," Helena says, laying her hands on Myka's shoulders and grinning down at her fondly.

"Aww," Steve coos.

"Did anything about the carriage ride scream 'lady ghost will now appear at will?" Abigail asks.

"Not to my knowledge," Helena says.

"We also went to the Pharmacy Museum. And on a steamboat ride," Myka adds.

"Not that I'd have stepped foot on that death trap without proof of modern safety precautions. In my day, they exploded frequently," Helena explains.

"Ok...let's start with the Pharmacy Museum," Abigail says as Steve types. "Could this woman have afforded a doctor?"

"She often appears in her Sunday best, but also in, shall we say...less. She didn't strike me as particularly monied."

"Did she look sort of vampire-ish?" Steve asks. "I'm reading that people with consumption were rumored to be vampires due to how the disease aged them."

"I'm familiar with that premise, and no, this woman was not withering away."

"Could she have died on a steamboat?" Abigail asks.

"She doesn't give off that sense. There's a calm about her. She's not in danger."

"Let's try another angle. The neighborhood you're staying in, Storyville, claims to be the birthplace of jazz," Abigail says, reading over Steve's shoulder. "Maybe she's related to that?"

"Myka took me to hear this 'jazz,' and I can't say I was at all impressed."

"I like it. Steve does, too. You really hated it?" Myka asks.

"The bleat of the saxophone evokes vaudeville for me."

"Play her some Charlie Parker. Or John Coltrane. That might change her mind," Steve suggests.

"Does this relate to our ghost?" Abigail presses.

"I don't see a connection," Helena answers. "Her dress is previous to that of jazz, of an age closer to my own."

"Storyville was once a legal bordello district," Steve explains. "The whole neighborhood was shut down in 1917. So maybe she's from then?"

"That makes sense," Myka says.

"Do you see her inside or outside?" Abigail asks.

"Thus far, outside."

"But," Myka protests, "last night, when we were...t-the blindfold, you said 'just in case.'"

"Did that not heighten our activities?"

"That's not the point. I can't believe you--"

"Punish me later, darling--"

"Why don't you two hash this out, and we'll get back to you," Abigail suggests.

"Wait, is this her?" Steve asks.

Steve shares a black and white photo of a woman, seated outdoors, in front of a makeshift white backdrop, her hair styled into a modest, shoulder-length coif. Her linen top, trimmed with lace, hangs off one shoulder, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. Her lipstick, rendered as a middle grey, matches the kohl lining her eyes, giving her a soft, silent movie-era look.

"Hm, possibly."

"Here's another."

Helena leans further over Myka's shoulder, looking closely at the image. "Yes, I believe that is her."

"That's, um, really off the shoulder. Shoulders..." Myka says. "Isn't that kind of racy for the time?"

"Quite tame compared to some. Her expression is unusual, contemplative almost, recalling solemn greek statues rather than the usual fodder meant to titillate men's desires."

"How would you know?"

"One encounters all sorts of materials as a Warehouse agent," Helena says with a smirk.

"As an agent. Uh-huh."

"Listen to this," Steve interrupts, "these prints were made from a stash of glass negatives found locked in a desk drawer years after the photographer died. Many are of Adele, the woman you're seeing, but there are other women, too. They were shot in the 1910s, but these prints were made in the '60s. If there were any original prints, they were never found."

"May I see the images again?"

Steve cycles through and adds a few more, one depicting a roll-down desk with a shrine of photos arranged above, all of women, vignetted portraits and romantic depictions of the female form more typical for the time.

"Not sure if that last one is related. But it says it's by the same photographer."

"Could you send that one over? I'd like to look more closely."

"Sure."

Myka trades places with Helena, and Helena clicks the link. She enlarges the photo and inspects the array of images.

"I vaguely recall flicking through a basket in a shop with ephemera such as this. Perhaps this ghost woman was amongst it, but printed in a manner such as the images depicted here."

"So you're saying the photo in the shop might be a photo from this photo?"

"That is what I'm hypothesizing."

"So when you see her, you freeze like you're her photograph trapped in this photograph."

"Or perhaps I am her, caught in the decisive moment of the image being captured."

"That's really meta," Steve says.

"No matter what, neutralizing that photo should do the trick," Abigail suggests. "Heck, neutralize everything in the basket, just in case."

"Do you remember which shop you were in?" Steve asks.

"My recollection is hazy at best due to the copious amount of drink someone encouraged me to consume the evening previously."

Helena looks at Myka and scowls. Myka looks back, endearingly.

"I don't get hangovers."

"Lucky you," Helena quips.

"I hope you find it soon," Steve says, "because being happy looks good on both of you. You should get back to that."

"Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Abigail, for all your help," Helena says.

"Anytime," Abigail says.

"Have a great trip. Send some postcards!" Steve says.

"What a marvelous idea," Helena replies.

"Isn't flicking through postcards how we got here?" Myka warns.

"Shall you pre-screen everything I touch from now on?"

"Maybe I should--"

"We're hanging up now," Abigail says.

The screen goes blank as Myka and Helena devlove further into playful bickering.

*End Scene*

-TBC-

NOTES: "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" is Cajun French for "Let the good times roll." In season four, Steve and Myka go New Orleans and both say they like jazz, so I'm not making that up. I see Myka as more of fan of popular tunes - Billy Holiday, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, etc., whereas Steve would know the genre through and through (and try as he might, never gets Claudia quite on board with it all). The photographer is E. J. Bellocq - I was going to incorporate that more, but the politics behind photos I mentioned is...complicated. I want this B&W show to focus on our ladies journey, artifacts are side-plot motivations. But if you're interested, look him up, and I suggest reading both Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin's essays for some clarity on why the images hold the status they do. From the research I've done, his images are plastered all over Storyville businesses, so if you've been there, you've seen at least one. Oh and I had a roommate once who could drink anything and never got a hangover. Some people are lucky like that.

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #fan art #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #new orleans #road trip!#canon divergent au #it's nice using the characters you like and wish had more screen time in spin off shows #while others need not appear

40 notes · View notes

heyitmelexie · 3 years

Text

Sleeping In

Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x pregnant!Reader

Word count: 1583 Warnings: none Rating: fluff

A/N: I’m a little late again, but here’s day 2 of @honeymandos December Writing Challenge! If you want to be tagged and if you have requests for the following days, feel free to let me know! ❤️

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

Jack hadn’t been home in a month now. He immediately got another mission after finishing the first and then he was stuck with tons of paperwork and digital espionage.

You knew it could be possible that he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. He had told you that he was sorry and couldn’t tell when he would be back home, because he just didn’t know what other tasks they might busy him with.

You were torn between understanding the necessity of him being there and being absolutely mad that they kept him from you, especially now.

You’re almost seven months pregnant with yours and Jack’s daughter, wishing he could be able to be with you every day. Feeling and seeing your belly grow. Feeling and seeing her little kicks and turns.

Champ had apologised to you that he had to give him so many tasks, taking him away from you. But now there was too much going on, with every agent being constantly occupied.

Seven months ago you had been an agent yourself. You were Tequila’s partner. Champ refused to let you be Whiskey’s because your relationship could get in the way, which made sense. You still saw him a lot so that wasn’t such a big deal.

When you had found out that you were pregnant, you immediately went into early retirement. There was no way that you would be able to get back into your job after a few years. With Jack staying an agent, he wouldn’t be home all the time and you didn’t want your children growing up barely seeing both their parents.

The moment you told Jack that he was going to be a father, he went quiet first. You knew that his past still makes him extra careful and you hadn’t talked about having children before. But then you saw his eyes fill with tears and a soft smile forming on his lips. He went down to kneel in front of you, hands on your hips and had pressed a soft kiss to your belly. This gentle gesture alone was enough to bring tears to your own eyes, a wide smile on your face.

“You keep on giving me everything in the world as if I deserved this, angel” he choked out, burying his face in your belly and crying quietly.

“You deserve the whole world. Even more. You deserve all of this, Jack. You’re the most caring and gentle man I have ever met in my life and you treat me like a princess. And I will keep on treating you like a king because that’s what you are to me. I love you more than words could ever express.” You gently ran your fingers through his hair, crying yourself but this was a happy moment. You were carrying the child you and the love of your life had created in a moment of pure passion but also tenderness. A little jewel.

Ever since that day Jack had been trying his best to be there for you as much as he could, and Champ had done his best to not keep him away for too long. Until a month ago.

Jack had called you again this morning, as he did every morning in the past month, asking if you slept well, if you had eaten breakfast, how you felt, if his little Miss sunshine was awake. You had him on speaker and surely enough, once she heard her Papa’s voice she started kicking, making you gasp lightly but giggle at the same time.

“Guess she likes to be woken up by her daddy’s voice” you said, smiling brightly while gently stroking your belly.

“Did she just wake up?” Another kick.

“Hi, my little princess, are you being good for your Mama?” he coos through the phone. It warms your heart whenever he talks to your yet unborn little girl, telling her stories, even asking her how she felt. It was honestly absolutely adorable.

“I miss you and your Mama, my sweet bee. Papa will be home soon and then he can tell you stories again; I know you love them.” It actually seems like she does. Whenever he would tell her stories from his work or read her a book, she would move more than normal, kicking her tiny feet and making you both smile in adoration. His chest would swell with pride while he continues to read to her. And you enjoyed listening to him as well, his soft baritone making goosebumps rise on your arms and legs.

“We miss you too, my love” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

You missed him so much. He had never been away for more than two weeks. You missed his touch, his kisses, his jokes. Missed dancing through the kitchen with him, stargazing in the backyard and sipping homemade iced tea on your front porch.

“I promise I will try to come back to you soon. I’m almost done with this mission and hopefully Champ won’t give me anymore. Then I can come back to my two ladies and never let them go again.” You chuckled softly at that. He would definitely not let you go again for at least a whole day.

“I can’t wait. Be safe, honey. We love you.”

“I love you too, sugar. Talk to you later.”

You proceeded with your day as usual, doing some chores, cooking, watching a movie. He hadn’t called again yet, but you thought maybe he was just too busy.

In the evening, when the sun had already set and the sky is filled with stars, you cook dinner while listening to music loudly. That’s why you don’t hear the front door open and close and Jack coming into the kitchen.

He leans against the door frame, hands in his pockets and watches you sway your hips slightly while making the sauce, a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey” you sing softly. He makes his way over to where you stand.

“You’re as sweet as strawberry wine. You’re as warm as a glass of brandy” he slings his arms around you making you shriek loudly. He laughs gently before singing himself.

“And honey, I stay stoned on your laugh all the time.” You shiver slightly because of his warm breath against your neck and the richness of his deep voice before swinging around quickly to press your lips against his.

He chuckles softly, hands on your hips while kissing you tenderly. After a moment he breaks the kiss just to put his forehead to yours. He looks into your eyes which are filled with happy tears.

“Told you I’d be home soon for you” he says, making you laugh softly while nodding.

“That you did.”

He kneels in front of you and puts his hands on both sides of your swollen belly before pressing a soft kiss to its middle. You don’t have to wait long until you both see and feel her press her little foot against the spot where her Papa just kissed her.

“Yes, princess, it’s me. Papa is finally home” he says while gently stroking your belly and nuzzling his face against it. She kicks right against his nose, making him gasp before he starts laughing with you.

“Little rascal” he chuckles softly before standing back up and giving you another soft kiss.

You spend the rest of the evening finishing the dinner together and then eating while talking about his missions and how you spent most of your time.

“How long will you stay home now?” you ask him while the two of you are cleaning the dishes.

“Until the 2nd, so I’ll be here over Christmas and New Year. Been bugging Champ to not give me anything new for a while until he finally had enough and let me go home.” You laughed softly at that. Poor Champ.

After you’ve cleaned everything you go back into the living room where Jack lights a fire in the fireplace and you two lay on the soft carpet in front of it to cuddle.

You end up spending the whole night making soft love to each other, the only source of light being the fire, casting you in a gentle orange glow.

Jack wakes up in the middle of the night, both of you tangled together in front of the cold fireplace. He stands up and then gently lifts you up into his arms before carrying you upstairs into the bedroom. He spoons you and softly tucks the two of you into the blanket before falling back asleep.

When you finally wake up again it’s already two in the afternoon. You would have slept even longer but your bladder urged you to get up now before you would leave a mess on the bed.

After coming out of the bathroom again you snuggle back against Jack who now slowly wakes up and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Mornin’ sugarplum” he raps, making you shiver slightly. You giggle.

“It’s 2pm, old man.” He laughs before gently biting your shoulder making you squeal.

“I don’t wanna get up. I wanna stay in bed with you all day and just cuddle” you pout, putting your hand on his where it lays on your belly.

“I didn’t plan on doing anything else, love, don’t you worry.” He strokes your bump gently, making you smile.

You know he wouldn’t let you go now that he’s back home with his two ladies.

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

I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think ❤️

@absurdthirst @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @frannyzooey

#Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #kingsman golden circle #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Jack Daniels x Reader

141 notes · View notes

snapeaddict · 3 years

Text

Je t’aime jusqu’au bout des étoiles

[Fête des Rois' tradition explained at the bottom]

‘Sit under the table. You can’t come out until everyone has been served, alright?’

Severus quickly vanished, crawling on all fours so he could easily get to the centre of the table, where he had a good view on his mother’s black boots and his father’s apple green slippers. He waited patiently as his mother carefully started cutting three slices out of the galette, picturing the scene in his mind as best as he could; Minerva was smiling slightly, for his excitement was contagious.

‘For whom is this one?’ she asked, casting Albus a complicit look as the boy started giggling.

Severus hesitated. ‘Dad!’ he finally decided. He paused. ‘But I hope it is big enough.’

‘It is, son,’ Albus replied. ‘Now, this one? It’s a big one.’

‘For me!’

Minerva put the slice down on his plate, this time while laughing too. ‘Of course it’s for you. Now, this one is for me then. You can come out!’

The galette des rois was a delicious thing, one of Albus’ favourite cakes, and he made it a point to honour the tradition every year. It was round and shiny, sun-shaped, decorated with geometric patterns and incredibly crusty – he was very fond of the almond paste, but Severus, on the other hand, was more interested in what may be hidden inside. The house elves had kept the shape of the fève a secret, but they always made thoughtful choices. He took a bite out of the cake. Minerva was eating with a fork: he had never been able to convince her a puff pastry cake such as this must be eaten using your hands alone. He was about to comment on it, as it had very much become a tradition too, when Severus let out a muffled scream.

‘Severus, your tooth! Did it fall out?’

Indeed the boy had just spit a bloody tooth out of his mouth, which landed noisily on his plate. Minerva rose from her sit, and in a few seconds she was back, pressing a white tissue against his mouth where a hole had appeared, right in the middle. But the boy did not appear disturbed by this at all, Albus observed: on the contrary, he was beaming with pride, certainly ignoring the pain in his lower jaw as he had bitten into the porcelain charm quite vigorously.

‘I got the fève!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically, opening his left hand. Albus picked it up carefully, holding it in the light so he could get a closer look.

It was a rather large one, representing the three wise men on their way to Bethlehem. They had told Severus about traditional nativity scenes, of course: it was very important that their child be as opened and educated as possible on religious questions, especially given Minerva’s muggle heritage.

‘It looks like the three of us, when we will be very old and still together’, Severus commented, protesting weakly as his mother whipped his mouth. She chuckled.

‘I hope I am not going to grow a beard when I am older, if you will allow this slight coquetterie.’

‘I hope I will,’ her husband replied, and he would, as then no one would ever remember him without his famous, perfectly white, much too long beard. ‘You see, Severus, they are on their way to find the Child at Herod’s command.’

‘They followed the star?’

‘Yes, and they found him. Isn’t it a nice story?’

Severus seemed deep in thought. He turned to look through the window: it had been dark outside for several hours now, even if they were having dinner rather early. A Scottish winter.

‘Can you show me the star?’

He took another bite of his galette, passing his tong through the hole in his teeth. He was experimenting with this new configuration of his teeth, which made him look remarkably younger; Minerva put down a golden crown on his raven hair.

‘I can even teach you a bit of astronomy’, Albus offered.

Severus shily crowned his mother, whose blue eyes and dark hair, contrasting with the brilliance of the headwear, made her resemble the night sky.

Stars were filling the darkness, shining silently above the lake; the surface of the water reflected their light in a blurred way, for it was far from being still, certainly due to the squib’s agitation. Albus pointed at the brightest star; Minerva lifted Severus in her arms so he could see it more easily.

They were silent for a while. The air was cold, but strangely refreshing.

‘I am glad they found the child’, Severus eventually whispered, making himself comfortable against his mother’s chest. ‘It’s a nice story.’

‘I’m glad they found him too’, Albus replied, stroking his black hair affectionately.

‘Dad, your fingers are sticky.’

Er, I’m aware la galette des rois (king cake) isn’t a thing in the UK, the tradition is rather about a Twelfth Night cake according to Wikipedia? At least it really looks different but I prefer to write about things I know. Perhaps Sev’s parents wanted to introduce him to their friendly neighbours’ Epiphany tradition? I don’t think it’s the same kind of celebration everywhere, so here’s a wee explanation: we serve les galettes des rois from the 6th of January to the 12th (read: all month because it tastes amazing), flavoured with either compote de pomme (stewed apples? Apple sauce?) or frangipane (almond paste). Hate la compote, love la frangipane. Yes people in the South I know you also make a different cake but I’ll ignore you on purpose.

There is a fève (a little porcelain figure) hidden in the galette and if you find it, you are the king or queen and must choose your fellow sovereign. To be sure there’s no cheating someone must hide under the table while someone else cuts the slices and asks them who to give them to. If you find the fève, you wear a golden crown!

The song: Yves Duteil - Jusqu’où je t’aime

If you ever ask me

How much I love you

And if when you grow up

We’ll still love each other

If I had to tell you

All my love

Even with my arms wide open

It wouldn’t be enough

My love for you

I think it goes all the way to...

The end of the earth and of the sea

And of the sun and to the end of the stars

Beyond the depths of galaxies

In the infinity of the sidereal universe

As far as my heart’s gaze can go

To the end of the sky and to the bottom of happiness

I love you so far

This is how I love you

And it’s forever

It’s written in my very heart

Day after day

To take the measure

Make no mistake

It would take a bezel

So beautiful so big so large

That just by putting it down

It would surely go

To the end of the earth and of the sea

And of the sun and to the end of the stars

Beyond the depths of galaxies

In the infinity of the sidereal universe

To borders you’ve never dreamed of

Beyond the hours and into eternity

I love you so far

To the end of the earth and of the sea

And of the sun and to the end of the stars

Beyond the depths of galaxies

In the infinity of the sidereal universe

To the heart of the ice and to the bottom of the desert

To the end of the sky and into another universe

I love you so far

If you ask me

How much I love you

I love you so far...

#I was listening to Yves Duteil #And thinking about how I could find a plant based galette #pof #Mmad #Severus snape #He deserved better #Albus Dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #young severus #Yves Duteil

102 notes · View notes

blinder-secrets · 4 years

Text

Lion Tamer - part 5

one | two | three | four

ao3

4,100 words

‘I got it for ya. Open it.’

You were barely awake, barely even human. It was six in the morning, on the day you turned twenty, and Arthur had woken you with a scattering of rocks against your bedroom window. He’d thrown them three, maybe four times. You don’t know. It had sounded like hail. You’d pulled yourself up, bringing the sheet with you, and opened your curtains to the day and to Arthur, who stood outside your parents’ house with his neck bent to look at you.

He’d grinned. It’d been fuller than his moustache at the time.

After a moment of just staring at each other, both waiting for the other to do something, you’d pushed the window open. ‘What are you doing?’ you’d said, speaking as quietly as you could whilst still being heard. ‘It’s barely dawn, Arthur.’

‘I wanted to be the first, din’t I?’ he answered, proudly, happy that he’d won. He waved you down to him. ‘Come on birthday girl, come see what I got.’

You’d clocked the present under his arm and smiled. ‘Alright, let me put something on.’

Once you were out there, wrapped in a dressing gown and shuffling in your mother’s slippers, you’d forgotten how early it was. You didn’t care that he’d woken you up on your one day off, or that he’d caught you in your nightgown. He’d held the gift out for you, like it was a treasure, searched for and found, and you’d forgotten all of it.

‘What is it?’ you asked, taking it from him. It was wrapped terribly. Awfully. He wasn’t a man for presents, or prettiness, but he’d tried to twist the string that held it all together into a bow, and that made you like it even more.

‘I got it for ya,’ he said. ‘Open it.’

And you had, and it was perfect. A small-chained necklace, delicate, brassy with a green stone hanging from it. It wasn’t overly extravagant — or expensive, you’d hoped. But it was exactly what you liked. ‘How did you know?’

‘Saw you looking at Pol’s,’ he’d said. He looked so pleased with himself, happier than you did, even. ‘Ere,’ he was giddy, moving already, ‘let me put it on ya.’

Tommy’s cigarette case snapped shut. You jumped slightly, though your eyes had already been sitting, unfocused, on the silver in his hands, and he raised an eyebrow at the movement.

‘Nervous, [y/n]?’ he asked, because of course he did, because he wanted you to be.

You cleared your throat. ‘I’m surprised you aren’t driving yourself,’ you said, to change the subject. ‘I thought you would.’

You’d been in the car for half an hour already and that was the first time the silence had broken between you. He was on your left, comfortable in his seat, sitting back with his knees wide, unlike you, who sat as far to the right as the car would allow. When you’d asked to come with him, you hadn’t expected to be sharing the back bench.

‘I’m buying a car,’ he said. He tucked the cigarette between his lips and lit it. ‘I’ll drive it back afterwards.’

‘The latest model, I’m sure.’

He nodded. Every extravagance.

‘And what’ll happen to this one?’ you asked. ‘Sold for parts?’

‘No.’ He blew the smoke from his lips and it went forward, then out the window, dragged behind by the speed. ‘Arthur will have it.’

You didn’t say anything, but you did smile. It felt like a sickly one, smug, the kind your mother would scold you for. ‘He’ll like that,’ you said.

‘Yeah?’ He snorted, amusing himself. Looking ahead though his joke was at you. ‘Use it to visit you, will he?’

Your jaw set. He’d made you promise no Arthur, no mention of him, no conversation. But he could sit there and mock you. He could talk about him at your expense. You wanted to say something about it, but you didn’t know where to start, you didn’t know which annoyance to string into your bow. Instead, you scoffed and turned away from him. The hedgerow running alongside you was better company.

‘You’ll see him, then, in London,’ he started, barely ten minutes later. ‘Right?’

‘Will you kick me out the car if I answer?’ you bit back, spitting a glance at him before returning to your view. You watched the hedge break, watched it drop into a line of short fences. You were leaving the countryside. In and out again like a bullet.

He sighed. ‘I only ask cause I need him on the ball.’

You looked at him and he already had his eyes on you. If you knew what he was hiding behind them, maybe he’d bother you less. ‘And?’

‘It’d be better if he wasn’t distracted,’ his hand waved between you, ‘by your visit.’

‘Distracted?’ You couldn’t stop your voice from rising. It was like you existed in an entirely different world from him, one with different rules. A different Arthur. 'The only thing that distracts him is the drink,’ you said.

‘The booze,’ he drawled, nodding, ‘the cocaine, the women.’ He added the last one to hurt you, you’re sure, but it fell flat. You and Arthur had never been that way.

‘And you,’ you added dryly. ‘Tell me, which is deadlier? Drugs or Tommy Shelby?’

‘Deadly.’ He said it once and then let it sit. His lips pouted slightly, like a child’s. He knew you had a point, surely, surely he did. Surely he wasn’t so obtuse that he failed to see it.

‘And where were you, ey?’ he started again, having decided that no, no you didn’t have a point. His voice thickened, deep and accusing. ‘Two years ago,’ he said, ‘when that rope was round his neck, where were you?’

You ran your tongue across your teeth, behind your lips, like it’d calm you down. He knew you blamed yourself for that. He knew the guilt sat in your stomach every time you were reminded of it, that Arthur was at the edge and you weren’t there to pull him back. ‘I was visiting family,’ you began, ‘you know—‘

He cut you off. ‘Family, right. That’s what it all comes back to. At the end of the day, it’s all that matters. It’s all that sticks.’

He was family, Shelby family. And you weren’t. The hit stung where he’d intended it to, but it didn’t slow you down. It barely even made you blink. ‘We can both play that game, Tommy,’ you sneered. ‘You’re family, but who does he go to? Who does he trust?’

You watched him snort; it just strengthened your words, sharpened their edges.

‘When that noise in his head gets loud, do you think he’d ever come to you?’ you pushed. ‘Do you think he’d ever want to?’

‘I don’t want the noise, love. I want loyalty.’ His eyes dripped down your face. ‘Which I get.’

And you don’t. Yeah, message fucking heard, Tommy. ‘What is wrong with you?’ you asked, before you could stop yourself. ‘You enjoy this.’

He didn’t deny it, he just shrugged. ‘The last thing my brother needs, [y/n], is a wife.’

You laughed. It fell out of you like ice into whiskey. ‘You won’t even let him have a friend,’ you said. And he didn’t deny that either.

When you reached London, the first stop you made was Ada’s. You’d told Tommy that was where you were staying, and you don’t think either of you disagreed that the sooner you got there, and got out of that bloody car, the better. You’d been sat in silence since the argument.

‘Thank-you for the lift,’ you told him, as you climbed out. You didn’t mean it and he didn’t accept it. You left him stood on the pavement, because he was reluctant to go any closer, and knocked on the door of Ada’s grand house. Fitting for her, you thought. A palace for the princess.

She answered the door with wide, questioning, eyes, and then caught Tommy over your shoulder. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ she said, eyebrows pinched, face sharp and unwelcoming.

‘Just dropping her off, Ada,’ he explained, hands half-raised in surrender. ‘I’m not staying.’

‘To Hell, you’re not,’ she quipped. Then her attention fell back to you. ‘And what are you doing here?’

You smiled, wincing an apology into your features. ‘Sorry, Polly said I could stay. Didn’t have time to ring.’

She tutted, but it wasn’t a no. ‘You may as well be one of them,’ she said. ‘Never get any warning for anything. Come in then, come on.’

You followed her in. When you shut the door behind you, Tommy had already gone.

So, this is how he’d been spending his time. All the way to London, for a pub. For a bar. You stood in front of it, staring at the gold lettering above the door. It had been Sabini’s, Ada had said, but now it was theirs. Shelby run, Shelby occupied. She’d said if you went before opening, you’d probably find him. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to check the hotel. Any excuse to be with the liquor, you’d thought, or the snow. You’d never seen him on cocaine. Maybe you had, maybe you couldn’t tell the difference.

It was four in the afternoon, and if you wanted even the slightest chance of speaking to him alone, it had to be now. You sighed and tried the door. Locked. Without pausing, you turned and followed the pavement until you found a gap between the buildings, one that would take you round the back. It didn’t take long. The second door you found was unlocked, so you slipped past the bins and into the bar.

Well.

You could see why Small Heath had lost its appeal. Even the back half of the bar reeked of wealth, of class. The corridors sang of occasion. Your eyes clung to the wallpaper, followed it up and along the curved ceiling as you entered the main room. It was royal. All royal, and now the Shelbys were king. Your gaze hit the highest point and dropped, sauntered down the chandelier, lingered on the lights. You stood stationary on the edge of the dance floor and then, only then, when you’d paused, did your attention pull to the only motion in the place.

In the middle of the room was Arthur, and a woman bent up beneath him.

‘Oh my fucking Christ.’

You looked far longer than you should of. You saw too much, too much of her, her face, her mouth open, panting, his hands on her waist, his biceps under the shirt, his bare thighs, the noise, the sound, the lines of red across his hips and, God, oh God, you looked away.

‘Sorry,’ you said. Sorry to yourself, sorry to the other woman.

You were already backtracking, hot-footing the path you’d taken when you heard your name barked from behind you.

‘Fuck,’ said the woman, ‘who’s that?’ Grunting, shuffling. Chairs kicked out of the way. ‘Oi,’ she said to him, ‘where you going?’

‘[Y/n],’ Arthur called again. ‘Wait.’

No. No, you wouldn’t wait. You needed to be outside. You wanted to stare into the sun long enough for it to blind you, to go deep and take the pictures from behind your eyes.

‘I said bloody wait,’ he moaned. The metal of his suspenders clacked together as he brought them back over his shoulders. ‘Fuck sake.’

You flung the door open with both hands. The air you met was cold and your face was hot, burning. He followed after you but you wouldn’t turn around to check. Of all the fucking places. No shame, you thought, no dignity. Out in the open, across a table for anyone to see. Would he have you like that? If you let him, would he?

‘Love,’ he started. ‘Look, that wasn’t…’ He didn’t even know what to say. You didn’t really want him to say anything.

You should’ve stayed at Ada’s, should’ve gone to the hotel and left a note at the reception. Should’ve waited and seen if he would come to you. If he didn’t then so be it, he wasn’t alone. He was very fucking far from being on his own.

‘You weren’t—‘

‘Please don’t say anything that’s gonna make me want to hit you,’ you said, quickly, before meaning to say anything at all. ‘Arthur, I mean it.’

‘You won’t even look at me,’ he grumbled. His voice was dropped, sulking, rolling about like a scolded child.

Spinning, you let out a frustrated noise and then said to his face, ‘There. Are we better now?’

His shirt was undone still, five buttons open and gaping, but his pants were up. He’d sorted himself that much, then, hid the marks at least. The red marks. Nails or lipstick? Is that how you liked it, Arthur? Did she know you well?

‘What’re you doing here?’ he asked. He smoothed his hair back, once, twice, it still fell forward afterwards.

You couldn’t help yourself, your voice slipped into sarcasm. ‘Oh, I was actually here to visit her, yeah.’ You pointed to the building. ‘What’s her name? You seem awfully well acquainted.’

That pissed him off. His brow scrunched up, his nostrils flaring. ‘Right, don’t be fuckin’ childish.’

‘Says the man who can’t work a fucking phone.’ The one who can’t remember to check in, not even once. The one that swapped you out for whatever toy was newest, shiniest, whatever made his head spin fast enough. Maybe you’d have kept his attention if he’d had you over the table in the Garrison.

‘Ay?’ He didn’t get it. No surprise there. ‘What’s this about?’

‘Are you on coke?’ you asked suddenly, incredulously. ‘Is that what it is?’

He bent his head into his shoulder like he couldn’t believe you. Like you were the one acting irrationally. ‘Come off it,’ he said. ‘What the fuck is this?’

‘I have no idea, Arthur.’ You pushed your fingertips into your forehead, hoping it would somehow stop your brain from bouncing around your skull. You didn’t care, you didn’t. You did. But, oh, you did. You hadn’t heard from him at all, but he had time for that. Time for her, not for you, time for drink and coke, and her. ‘I think I should go,’ you said.

‘Ay? You just got here.’ He gestured behind him. ‘At least stay for a bit, sit down. See the bar.’

You scoffed. You looked at him like he was insane, utterly fucking insane. And you tried to never do that. ‘What?’ You laughed. ‘Me, you, and that lovely lady of yours? I think I’ll pass.’

‘Look,’ he said sharply, ‘if you’ve got some problem, right, with me and…’ He frowned. Frowned at you yet again, like you were nothing but a bother. ‘Just say it,’ he finished. ‘Alright? Fuckin’ say it, then I’ll know.’

Say what? He hadn’t even got there himself.

‘Oh my god,’ you pushed the curse into the sky, chin tilting upwards with the words, before setting your eyes back on him. ‘I don’t care, that you’re, fucking, fucking sleeping with women, Arthur. I just didn’t want to see it,’ you stressed. ‘I’m embarrassed.’ Painfully so. It was like your face got hotter the more you looked at him, the more he made you think about it. You exhaled quickly and it came out a bit like a whine. ‘Christ,’ you said, ‘it’s like seeing your fucking brother’s bare arse, or something.’

‘Brother?’ he repeated.

‘Yes,’ you snapped. His face fell. ‘Well, sort of.’ It didn’t stop him looking any less hurt, so you continued babbling. ‘I don’t know. God, I’ll just go. Sorry. I think that’s best.’

‘Right,’ he nodded, ‘yeah.’

It didn’t feel like you could walk away. The floor had stuck itself to your feet, maybe, it had got him as well. He was frozen too. ‘I’m staying with Ada,’ you said.

He nodded again and said, ‘Right.’

‘If you want to…’ You didn’t finish. It was too aimless to start with.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Alright, [y/n].’

Later, when you’d told Ada what had happened, her eyes had widened, big and disbelieving, and then they’d shrunk. Squinted. Pierced back into yours. ‘And you didn’t hit him?’ she asked, like you should have.

‘No.’ You pulled your feet up, tucking them under yourself. ‘Thought about it, though.’

She sighed, eyes rolling as she passed a blanket from her seat to yours. ‘Someone bloody should,’ she said. ‘All those years I spent, teaching them to be good. Look where it got them.’

‘It’s the fucking snow,’ you told her. ‘I’m sure of it.’

You draped the blanket over your legs and settled into the sofa. The fire was lit, but it was still nice to be wrapped up, to be warm. You watched the flames curl and bounce in the fireplace.

‘I think maybe I do care,’ you said carefully, ‘that he’s sleeping with other women. But, I don’t think I should.’

‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘that, I knew.’ She looked at you fondly, you saw it from the corner of your eye. Like she thought you were silly, hopeless, but sweet. And she knew that about you. ‘Why shouldn’t you?’ she asked. ‘I think you like Arthur more than anyone has, ever.’

You shrugged. ‘Because I fuck men that aren’t him.’ And it doesn’t even touch him, it doesn’t even bother him unless Tommy says it should. ‘Did I tell you they made me break it off with Frankie?’ you add, chasing the thought. ‘Tommy said it’s too much of a risk.’

She exhaled through her nose, not quite a laugh, but not a sigh either. ‘I’m not surprised. Did he make Arthur do it?’’

‘Yeah.’

‘Course he did.’ She shook her head, pausing to drink from her wine glass. ‘If you weren’t already in so deep, I’d tell you to get out. But it’s too late for that.’

‘It is,’ you agreed. Family or not, you were chained and bolted to the lot of them for good. ‘Do you think we’d ever work?’ you asked. ‘Me and Arthur?’

And then the doorbell rang. And the knocker went, hard against the wood, and then again and again, until you were standing and the blanket was abandoned on the floor.

‘That’ll be him,’ Ada decided, and she was right.

From the knocks alone, you knew he wasn’t sober. They were too violent, too inconsistent, too fucking loud to be from a sober hand. You paused behind the door to take a breath. Despite the day, you had been enjoying your evening with Ada. You’d almost forgotten that you’d half invited him here.

You pulled the door open and he staggered backwards, down a step, his already-raised hand dropping quickly. Like lead in the water. ‘You’re here,’ he said, like he had expected that you wouldn’t be. ‘Good.’

‘How much have you drank?’ you asked, skipping hello.

He shook his head and his hand went reaching forward. ‘Love, dear, my dear.’ It slurred out of him. He walked back up the step so you were level again. ‘I had to, right,’ he explained, ‘I had to fuckin’ come see ya. Sort it out for us.’

You sighed, slouching into the door. You leant on the knob for support. ‘Arthur, go back to your hotel.’

‘Nah, nah, not til it’s fuckin’ all right again.’ He could barely even look at you, his gaze couldn’t settle. The longer parts of his hair had flopped forward, over his forehead, covering his eyes. His head was spinning beneath, you were sure. ‘Am losing it here,’ he babbled, ‘am dipping in and out again.’

‘Arthur.’ What could you have even said to him? Anything you said now would have been lost under the hum, buried with the hangover in the morning. You may as well have let him talk to the door.

‘In-an-fucking-out,’ he droned. He took another step closer. ‘I was gonna ring you,’ he insisted, ‘I was. I had the number waitin’.’

‘So what happened?’ You sounded bored, even to yourself.

‘Nothing. Everything.’

You felt his breath on your chest and it was hot, heavy. It took everything you had not to push him away. He was stood too close, he didn’t even realise, probably thought he was whispering and you needed him near to be able to understand. He stank. Of brass, of sour beer and cigars drenched in whiskey. You took a step back and in the same moment his hand wrapped around the necklace you wore.

‘Here,’ he said, and then it snapped. Pulled apart like it was a strand of cotton. He stared at it, dangling from his closed fist, and you watched him, watching it, and then the green stone rolled off the chain and onto the floor.

You didn’t say anything. You’d had that necklace round your neck since he put it there.

‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to see it.’ His eyes flicked to yours, desperate. Startled like he was a deer and you had the gun square between them. ‘I’ll fix it. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.’

He dropped, crouching to collect the lost jewel, before righting himself. He held it up, in your face, too close, and too rough, and suddenly you were tired. So tired of it all, of him. It was always you putting him back together, always you calming him down. Always him ruining things that were yours. That you loved, that you wanted to keep. The chain clung to his hands. Wrapped around his palms like he was sweating.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Look, back together, right. Just, well, you’ll need a new chain.’

You didn’t want a new one. You wanted that one. You wanted to go back in time and ignore his pounding on the door, and sit and drink wine with the one Shelby that didn’t tire you out. ‘Please go, Arthur.’

‘Ay?’

‘I said please go.’ You wanted it to be forceful but it came out quietly instead. ‘I can’t do it tonight, I just can’t, Arthur.’

‘What,’ he stuttered, ‘what d’you mean? We haven’t spoke yet.’

You swallowed. ’I don’t want to speak to you.’

His hands dropped slightly. ‘But,’ he huffed, lost in his drunkenness, ‘but, you always want to talk. With me, you always do.’

And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you told him yes every time you should have told him no. That was why he was there, drunk and intrusive, with your necklace in his hand. Broken. Broken like he was.

‘Arthur.’ You closed your eyes; you didn’t want to see his face when you said it. ‘Please fuck off,’ you said. ‘Just, for once, fuck off.’

When you opened them again, he was already staggering down the steps away from you. You closed the door before you could regret it.

Never in your life, did you think you’d be grateful to see Tommy Shelby. But there he was, parked outside Ada’s, with his new car shining in the early light, and you could’ve almost cried with relief. You had been planning to stay another day. To go sightseeing with Ada, and then catch a train home on the Monday. Tommy, for some reason unknown to you, had offered an alternative.

‘Just thought I’d check,’ he said. ‘It was on my way.’

You nodded quickly. ‘Yes, thank-you. That would be great.’

He shrugged. ‘Get your bags, then.’

You didn’t want to be in London any longer. You didn’t want to sit and think about where Arthur had gone last night, or where he’d turn up next. You wanted home, your home, your flat and your nice little kitchen. You said goodbye to Ada quickly and apologetically.

‘You’re going now?’ she asked. ‘With Tommy?’

With Tommy, yes. In the new car, with the wrong brother, but it didn’t matter.

‘I’ll ring you when I’m back,’ you told her. ‘Don’t worry.’

She wasn’t worried, just confused, it was there in the pinch of her eyebrows. You didn’t linger to see what thought she arrived at. Whatever comment she was about to make could wait until you were back where you should’ve been.

‘Okay,’ you said once you were on the pavement again, ‘all done.’ You pulled the bag onto your shoulder; the present for Arthur was still in there, fallen flat, right at the bottom. ‘Let’s go.’

Tommy nodded. He held the door open for you.

‘You can sit in the front this time,’ he said. ‘Like a rich girl.’

And it almost felt like a joke, a nice one, one you were in on, and you almost smiled.

>> Read part six

#arthur x reader #arthur shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #here we GOOOOOOOOOOO

215 notes · View notes

tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

Us, May 3

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Pregnant Meghan Markle: My Baby, My Way

Page 2: Red Carpet -- rufflemania -- Hollywood style stars are tier-ing it up in this flattering design with feminine flair -- Tracee Ellis Ross, Kaitlyn Dever, Margot Robbie, Logan Browning, Nicola Coughlan

Page 3: Lizzo, Maude Apatow, Lucy Boynton, Jessica Alba, Lily Collins

Page 4: Who Wore It Best? Anya Taylor-Joy vs. Isla Fisher vs. Regina King in Stuart Weitzman Nudist sandal

Page 6: Loose Talk -- Shonda Rhimes on the intense backlash she received over Rege-Jean Page's exit from Bridgerton, Kelly Ripa on her most embarrassing interview, Luke Bryan on his mother LeClaire's Instagram fame, Blake Shelton on The Voice's new coach Ariana Grande, Reese Witherspoon joking about wearing bottoms that aren't sweatpants

Page 8: Contents

Page 10: A Final Farewell to Prince Philip, his four children Prince Charles and Princess Anne and Prince Andrew and Prince Edward were among the loved ones who participated in the emotional ceremony, feuding brothers Prince Harry and Prince William (and his wife Duchess Kate) put their differences aside after the intimate service, due to Covid-19 protocols the grieving Queen Elizabeth stayed socially distant from the other 29 people who attended the funeral for her husband of 73 years

Page 11: ACM Awards 2021 -- Maren Morris teamed up with her husband Ryan Hurd and won Female Artist of the Year, Thomas Rhett won Male Artist of the Year, Carrie Underwood took the stage

Page 12: Hot Pics -- Rosie Huntington-Whiteley wore an orange coat during a visit to NYC, John Stamos plays a coach on the TV show Big Shot, Zach Braff goofed around on the set of Cheaper by the Dozen in L.A.

Page 13: Eva Longoria on her trampoline while aboard a yacht in Miami, Howie Mandel arrived to the set of America's Got Talent dressed as a bug in Pasadena

Page 14: Jon Hamm and his rescue dog Splash strolled around the neighborhood in L.A., Heidi Klum in all white in Pasadena, Sara Gilbert and Linda Perry take a stroll in L.A.

Page 15: Eddie Cibrian and LeAnn Rimes held hands after dinner at Il Segreto in L.A., Patrick Dempsey shot a scene for his show Devils in Rome

Page 16: Rachel Brosnahan in a blue dress and carrying a clear umbrella on the set of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel in NYC, Lin-Manuel Miranda at the opening of a vaccination center for Broadway workers in Times Square, Trisha Yearwood feeds one of her rescue pups

Page 18: Gen Z Has Spoken -- these celebs are making the young kids proud -- Baggy Jeans -- Hailey Bieber, Tracee Ellis Ross, Bella Hadid

Page 19: Middle Parts -- Busy Philipps, Lizzo, Jennifer Lopez, Kourtney Kardashian, baguette bags -- Dua Lipa, Elsa Hosk, Irina Shayk, Kendall Jenner

Page 20: Seeing Double -- stars bear a striking resemblance to their famous counterparts -- Elizabeth Banks and Chelsea Handler, Emmanuelle Chriqui and Nina Dobrev, Betty Gilpin and Jodie Comer

Page 21: Rob Lowe and Ian Somerhalder, Jaime Pressly and Margot Robbie, Isla Fisher and Amy Adams, Rupert Grint and Ed Sheeran, Kyle Richards and Kacey Musgraves

Page 22: Clueless Crew -- stars are totally buggin' over Cher Horowitz's style in yellow plaid -- Robin Roberts on Good Morning America, Katie Holmes was rollin' with her homie beau Emilio Vitolo Jr. in NYC, Vanessa Hudgens, Dianna Agron

Page 23: Gabrielle Union

Page 24: Stars They're Not Like Us -- Jay Leno took one of his vintage automobiles out for a spin in L.A., Chrissy Teigen and John Legend took a selfie with a fan while grocery shopping in Beverly Hills, Kylie Jenner has custom vending machines

Page 25: Carrie Underwood in her massive walk-in closet, Denzel Washington signs autographs for fans in NYC, Megan Thee Stallion on a private plane, Drake and his bodyguard in Beverly Hills

Page 26: Stars They're Just Like Us -- Sarah Jessica Parker catches a yellow cab after working at her shoe store in NYC, Brad Paisley picked up five pizzas to go in Montecito

Page 27: Kelly Osbourne handed out goods at a drive-thru food distribution event at the Islamic Center of Southern California, HGTV's Egypt Sherrod transformed her closet into a meditation space in Atlanta, in between filming Law & Order: SVU's Mariska Hargitay and Ice-T take a selfie

Page 28: Hollywood Dads -- Scott Porter on parenting his two kids McCoy and Clover

Page 29: Jonathan Tucker on life with twins Hayes and India, parenthood is a lot tougher than Jovi Dufren imagined, Maksim Chmerkovskiy can't wait to show son Shai his work

Page 30: Love Lives -- Rihanna and A$AP Rocky are showing no signs of slowing down -- the pair enjoyed a night out in L.A. hotspot Delilah where they were holding hands and laughing and they're not hiding the fact that they're dating but they just don't want people in their business -- they're a good match and are each other's best friend

Page 31: Justin Bieber and Hailey Bieber may look like the picture-perfect couple, but Justin admits that their first year of marriage wasn't what he expected, saying it was really tough and there was just a lack of trust and he blamed the strain on his own personal struggles and said before he didn't have someone to love or someone to pour into but now, more than two years after exchanging vows with Hailey, he has that

* Kacey Musgraves' romance with Dr. Gerald Onuoha is giving her butterflies -- the pair are so happy they found each other and while Kacey, who split from her husband Ruston Kelly last summer, is trying not to get too ahead of herself, her connection to the Nashville-based doc is off the charts and it's got the potential to go a very long way

* Today's Savannah Guthrie is thankful to have husband Michael Feldman in her life, especially given the demands of her early morning work schedule

Page 32: Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker are getting serious -- all the details on their whirlwind romance

Page 33: Adapting to parenthood has been a breeze for Emma Stone and she's soaking in all the precious moments of being a mom for the first time -- she and husband Dave McCary welcomed their baby daughter in March and Emma is super protective and a very hands-on mom and Dave is also hands-on and helps with their daughter -- thanks to the little one, Emma's marriage with the comedian has also gotten stronger and having a baby has brought them closer in a way they never expected -- Emma is looking forward to getting back to work; she's taken this time off to embrace motherhood and her number one priority is to raise a healthy baby so that's what she's focused on right now

* Britney Spears is setting the record straight -- despite her ongoing conservatorship battle with her dad, Jamie Spears, she is doing totally fine, assuring fans that she's extremely happy and she has a beautiful home, beautiful children and she's taking a break right now because she's enjoying herself -- although the legal drama with her father is heating up, Britney is staying strong and she has this wonderful ability to see the positive even when the odds are against her

* Keeping Up With Us -- production for the Downton Abbey sequel is underway, Mossimo Giannulli is a free man, Chrissy Teigen returned to Twitter 23 days after announcing that she was leaving the platform, Vanessa Bryant remembered her late husband Kobe Bryant on what would have been their 20th wedding anniversary, Helen McCrory lost her battle with cancer at age 52 according to her husband Damian Lewis

Page 34: A Day in My Life -- Whitney Port

Page 35: Colton Underwood is ready to live his truth -- during an interview on Good Morning America, the former Bachelor came out as gay, saying he's run from himself for a long time and he came to terms with his sexuality earlier this year and he's the happiest and healthiest he's ever been -- now that he feels like he can finally breathe, Colton is excited for his next chapter, which fans will get to see on an upcoming reality show with Olympian Gus Kenworthy -- a huge weight has been lifted off of Colton's shoulders and he is looking forward to being his authentic self

Page 36: Moms Tell All -- Happy Mother's Day! From milestones and manners to rules and nanny-bans, celebs and insiders talk about raising kids in Hollywood

Page 37: Bindi Irwin says life at home with her daughter Grace Warrior has been positively blissful and her family with dad Chandler Powell is so full of love, adding that the newborn has already met some of the wildlife at the Australia Zoo where Bindi and Chandler live and work and of course she's seen some crocs and really lit up when she saw them -- while the Aussie conservationist is sad Grace won't get to meet her late dad Steve Irwin, Bindi's brother Robert Irwin and mom Terri Irwin have been by her side constantly and Robert is obsessed with Grace and has been helping out so much and her mom has been the biggest guiding light and she's already taught Bindi so much about being a mother, both in how she raised her and by showing her things day by day and Terri is quite the baby whisperer and she's so great a calming Grace down when she's crying -- first-time father Chandler is also a natural with Grace and he's been the most supportive and involved dad and together, he and Bindi make such a great team -- for now, Bindi, who stars with Chandler in Crikey! It's a Baby!, is hoping Grace will follow in her animal-activist footsteps, saying having three generations of strong women working as conservationists is a dream come true

* Jennifer Garner said teaching your kids is a lifelong job, and certainly values are something you have to show them -- Jennifer, who shares kids Violet, Seraphina and Samuel with ex Ben Affleck, is staying true to her word and has led by example when it comes to things like kindness and patience and she won't let anyone in the house to judge or speak ill of people, and she enforces the same wholesome, traditional values that she was raised with and the kids have been taught to be loving, hardworking and fair -- Jennifer has always taken a kids-come-first approach to parenting, and it shows as they bake together, enjoy movie nights, read books and have very active lives and it's a very healthy, happy household filled with laughter and love

Page 38: Gwen Stefani has her hands full with her sons Kingston, Zuma and Apollo with ex-husband Gavin Rossdale, but she wouldn't want it any other way -- Gwen's a tomboy, so having three boys wasn't daunting for her at all, plus she has fiance Blake Shelton by her side to pitch in with parenting duties and Gwen and the boys have a blast at Blake's ranch in Oklahoma where they enjoy riding their ATVs, and they play baseball and football -- it's not all fun and games, though because Gwen is big on boundaries and manners and she doesn't want to raise Hollywood brats and it's important to her that her sons be gentlemen

* Meghan Markle's pregnancy with Archie was no walk in the park, as she revealed during her bombshell TV interview with husband Prince Harry, the couple had concerns over whether or not the royal family would provide security for their son and claimed there were conversations about his skin color -- but this time around, as Meghan and Harry gear up for baby No. 2 at home in L.A., she's doing everything her way, without the royals and Meghan and Harry feel blessed that they're able to raise their daughter in the U.S. and can live by their own rules and make the decisions they feel are best for their children; having independence is the most important thing for Meghan and she's got free rein to be exactly the kind of mom she wants to be -- her parenting style is really like most mothers out there, and she's been craving pasta and doing yoga two times a day as her due date nears and she keeps a lot of art supplies out to foster creativity and healthy snacks around and she's a devoted mom and wants the best for her kids

Page 39: Kate Hudson has a lot on her plate, so the mom of three, who shares son Ryder with former husband Chris Robinson and son Bingham with ex Matt Bellamy and daughter Rani with boyfriend Danny Fujikawa, knows when to put her foot down as things can get a little overwhelming at times for Kate, but when she says no, it absolutely means no, and the kids respect her very much because of that

* Gigi Hadid, who shares daughter Khai with boyfriend Zayn Malik, wants to spend every waking moment with her precious little girl -- Gigi could easily afford to employ a team of nannies but chooses not to and she prefers to do everything herself and besides, she can't bear to be away from Khai for more than a few hours

* Candace Cameron Bure's three grown kids are flying the coop, but she's still super involved in their lives, despite slowly becoming an empty nester -- the mom of Natasha, Lev, and Maksim with former hockey player Valeri Bure says it's been a very transitional time and she's been trying to help them make decisions they feel good about and it's challenging, but they're figuring it out

Page 40: Oh, Baby! Meghan Markle's due date is just around the corner, and here are all the details

* Bump Brigade -- Halsey, Gal Gadot, Shawn Johnson East

Page 42: 10 Years of the Cambridges -- a look back at Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton's solid marriage for their anniversary

Page 44: Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez: What Really Happened -- cheating and lies? The truth behind J.Lo's split from fiance A-Rod

Page 45: Friendliest Exes -- these former couples managed to stay close after going their separate ways -- Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin, Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux, Orlando Bloom and Miranda Kerr, Demi Moore and Bruce Willis, Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz

Page 48: Gifts for Mother's Day

Page 54: Entertainment -- Ben Barnes on Shadow and Bone

Page 58: Fashion Police -- the most daring Oscars looks -- Bjork, Whoopi Goldberg, Charlize Theron

Page 59: Rachel Weisz, Gwyneth Paltrow, Lady Gaga

Page 60: 25 Things You Don't Know About Me -- Julia Michaels

19 notes · View notes

thebluelemontree · 4 years

Note

Hiya blue lemon it's me again. Do you have any criticism in the way GRRM wrote Sansa in book1/2? EX:.Sansa and Jeyne are BFF but we amolst never see the girls talking to eachother, and when JP is sex traffikced sansa just forget about her(we could have a scene where sansa try to find what happened to JP or at least grieve for her). Every time sansa appears as a non-POV in AGOT she's been mean and whe we have her POV she's mean for no good reason(SANSA III AGOT). >PART 1<

And the worst is why GRRM wrote sansa goin to Cercei to tell her the "Ned Plans", it's just bad writing, Cercei kill lady so Sansa going to her was OOC GRRM just wrote that to we hate Sansa And in the book it's not explained what "the Ned plans" was(And it was nothing imortant at all, and would make no difference at Ned's fate) so ordinary readers blame Sansa for Ned's death and GRRM does that too in book 2 Cercei put all the blame for Ned death in sansa nd "the Ned Plans" Your thoughts?PART 2

There’s a lot to unpack here.

I get a sense that in the early books, George was not as comfortable writing female relationships as he was writing male relationships or even male-female ones. I mean, Catelyn has no female friends, no companions like Margaery Tyrell’s cousins, no fostering wards of her own, no correspondences with other ladies except that one letter from Lysa for plot reasons. This is just weird for the lady of two major houses. It is neglectful on George’s part to give most of the important social connections to men. This doesn’t mean he was totally inept at writing female relationships, though, and it does seem like he’s tried to improve upon highlighting the positive in later books.

By comparison, the positive side of the brotherly relationships are presented so strongly that it tends to smooth over the conflicts with many readers. Jon can feel envious and resentful of Robb, but the love and loyalty is always in the foreground. The conflict between Arya, Jeyne, and Sansa does have legitimate character arc and plot purposes, so this isn’t bad writing. It’s unfortunate that GRRM presses down so hard on the constant bickering and occasional nastiness, but he did write some positives (albeit they tended to be revealed in later books) and there are understandable reasons for the dynamics. It was not done in a totally unrealistic way. What’s depicted is a typical and relatable rocky period for that age group, and there was negative adult influence at play. It’s not a permanent feature of the sisterhood. It’s all there if you pay attention and you’re inclined to be charitable toward the mistakes of young girls.

If a reader is already predisposed to see the bonds between male characters as more pure and more able to overcome the negative aspects, then they probably also view the bonds between female characters as inherently weaker and more fraught with conflict. Fandom misogyny is not GRRM’s fault. That sector of the fandom will always have contempt for girls for being girls, especially preteen girls. They will always hone in on their faults and belittle their virtues.

I don’t think that is true that we hardly ever see Jeyne and Sansa talking. They are nearly always in each other’s company. There was real friendship between Sansa and Jeyne, because what George does do well with them, is realistically write the way girls cement their bonds. Young girls strengthen their relationship by communicating and confiding in each other. Sharing secrets, crushes, hopes, fears, and pieces of gossip builds trust and intimacy. Jeyne and Sansa do this all the time, even though they can have different opinions and disagree about a lot. Yes, there is some one-sidedness in that Sansa socially outranks Jeyne and believes that makes her more mature and wiser than her friend. Jeyne is dependent on her closeness to Sansa as a highborn lady and future queen to rise successfully, so she’s not going to push back on Sansa’s dominance. This is also a reason Jeyne sometimes bullies Arya to supplant her as Sansa’s “sister.” When Sansa has something to share, she goes to Jeyne to talk about it. I think it’s hilarious that the girls have a debate over which castle Gregor Clegane’s head will get spiked. Sansa wants Jeyne at her side for these new and exciting events like the tourney. When things get serious and dangerous, they comfort each other. Again, this is not all George’s fault if some readers don’t recognize or value the way girls do friendships.

It’s stated quite clearly why Sansa tries to not think about Jeyne or her deceased family members very often. It’s fucking traumatic and her survival while among her captors depends on mentally holding herself together.

If only she had someone to tell her what to do. She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell, dancing and sewing, playing with Bran and baby Rickon, even riding through the winter town if she liked. Sansa was allowed to go riding too, but only in the bailey, and it got boring going round in a circle all day. -- Sansa II, ACOK.

Following her father’s beheading, Sansa was in a suicidal depression for days. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t bathe, welcomed drug-induced sleep, and contemplated killing herself. If she thinks too much on those she lost, she falls to pieces. She can’t openly weep and mourn for “traitors” if her life depends on appearing to be loyal to Joffrey. Most of her grief is suppressed inside. This also includes asking too many questions she doesn’t feel psychologically prepared to hear the answer to. She was there when the decision was made to shuttle Jeyne off to Littlefinger; however, she has no idea this is going to result in Jeyne being sent to a brothel and worse. I would also keep in mind that even if she did ask, it’s not like Cersei or Littlefinger would ever tell her the truth. Why would they? Does she really want to hear lies and have to think about what the horrible truth might be when she can’t do anything about it? When it comes to Arya, Sansa believes her sister escaped on the ship bound for home. She comforts herself with imagining that Arya is safe and free, and that’s enough to keep her going.

And she prays and sings for Jeyne, wherever she is.

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin... -- Sansa V, ACOK.

It’s only until later in the books that Sansa feels emotionally at peace enough to start remembering the good times with Arya and Jeyne without breaking down into tears. We can also see the conflicts weren’t always a thing, and the love was strong with all three.

Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer's snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They'd each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she'd had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she'd slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn't, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. -- Alayne I, TWOW.

So it’s not even that the girls only bond through confiding. They run, play, and roughhouse with each other. It’s interesting that AGOT!Sansa tried to be so mature and proper, but now that she’s older, she’s remembering how good and freeing it was just to be a kid. But let’s not act like this part of the story is over. Jeyne is still very much alive and seems likely to run into Arya in Braavos. We can almost be 100% certain that Sansa will find out the truth about what happened to Jeyne and what Littlefinger did to her (and her parents), then watch out. Sansa will turn all that buried pain into a righteous fury at Littlefinger.

Now as for Sansa being mean for “no reason.” Um... yeah, LOL. Sometimes she’s just a total unwarranted bitch to her sister, and it’s not meant to be a good look. Sometimes she’s superficial, insufferably immature and annoying, judgmental and prejudiced AND THAT’S OKAY. I mean, she sounds no better or worse than your average middle-schooler if they were of the privileged nobility. Guess what? Sometimes preteens are really like that. Sometimes siblings have ugly, knockdown drag out fights where they say horrible things to each other. Most will grow past those phases and still wind up just as loving and close. It’s realistic and believable. Sansa has flaws, but they aren’t deep moral flaws. She does an amazing job at growing, learning, and overcoming those flaws over the course of the books. In TWOW, she’s warm and affectionate with people, easy-going, nonjudgmental, and genuinely more mature than ever. She took the stick out of her ass and became a happier person for it. What’s the problem? What did you want her to be? Perfect? Unfailingly kind and loved by everyone all the time? She’d be a saint, not a multifaceted human being. Even with her occasional ugly side, Sansa is still a strong, smart, compassionate badass. I don’t care if some people don’t like her as she is written or if they vilify her with their misinterpretations or ignore her strengths. What bearing does that have on GRRM’s vision for her character? He never set out to write any character that the whole fandom would either unanimously love or hate.

This is not bad writing. This NOT bad writing. This is GOOD writing.

*Sigh* Listen... this whole nonsense about Sansa being to blame for Ned’s demise has been going on since ASOIAF was written on clay tablets. You don’t have to listen to every stupid thing the fandom says about anything. It’s just factually wrong. End of story. This misinterpretation and reader inattentiveness is not GRRM’s fault, because he lays out all the details of everything that went down between Arya, Ned, and Sansa’s POV as it was happening. It’s totally understandable why an upset and frustrated Sansa would go to Cersei, the mother figure she implicitly trusts and admires. She didn’t go to Cersei to betray her father’s plans. She went to the queen to intercede in what she thought had to be some big misunderstanding, having no idea what was really going on or at stake.

This is not OOC for her to go to Cersei after Lady’s death. The hand that killed Lady was her own father’s, a undeniable breach of trust that wounded their relationship. Ned just doesn’t really do a lot to deal with the emotional aftermath either. Ned and Sansa are very similar in turning a blind eye when confronted with unpleasantness from someone they love. Ned is also at that moment disillusioned with Robert’s failure to do the right thing after the Trident incident. He begs Robert in the name of their brotherly love and the love he bore Lyanna, and Robert turns his back on Ned anyway. Yet Ned immediately goes right back to believing in the best of Robert’s nature, despite all evidence to the contrary. Every sign points to this being a one-sided friendship with Robert being lazy, irresponsible, and completely selfish. Like father, like daughter. Sansa has a very hard time accepting that Joffrey and Cersei are not the people she thought they were, even when she’s seen some cracks. And since she can’t understand her father’s actions and the communication has been shot to hell between them, of course she runs to Cersei with her problems. Cersei can flip a switch and pretend to be kind, loving, and understanding.

This is so typical of a teenage thought process: “Dad just doesn’t understand and he’s making a big mistake. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. He doesn’t get how important this is to me. This will all work out if a sympathetic adult steps in and fixes it. Everything will turn out great and we’ll all be happy.” While Sansa is pouring her heart out about how it isn’t fair she can’t say goodbye to Joffrey, Cersei pretends to be that sympathetic mother figure that really understands her. How hard would it be then to pump Sansa for information? Like “Oh my sweet little dove. I know how much you love my son. Don’t worry. I’ll help you straighten this out. You said your father wants to send you away? How? When? What’s the name of that ship again?”

And that line from Cersei’s POV is horseshit. Cersei is a liar and regularly lies in her POV to absolve herself of responsibility and force the blame entirely on others. In this case, Cersei is acting like she didn’t totally manipulate a trusting child to betray her. We also know this is a lie because Ned was the one that told her himself of his plans to reveal the invest and remove her as queen. Sansa had nothing to do with that. All Sansa did was give Cersei information that allowed Cersei the opportunity to take her hostage before the girls could leave by ship. Cersei’s plans against Ned were already well underway. Sansa never came to her with the intent of knowingly betraying anyone, but she did have selfish reasons for going to the queen to complain in the first place. GRRM said himself that Sansa wasn’t to blame for Ned’s capture or death, but she did play a role in the events that transpired. That’s fair. All that makes her is a kid who made a not entirely innocent mistake, but a mistake nonetheless, which she immediately learned from. Does she trust Cersei or Joffrey again? Hell no.

Relax, anon. It’s fine for her to not be nice all the time. It’s fine for her to have some realistic, garden variety flaws. It’s one of the most universal human mistakes to fall too hard and fast for the wrong person, act the fool over them despite all the red flags, only to realize you only saw what you wanted to see in them. And Sansa learned this lesson at eleven when some adults haven’t learned it at all. Relax. She’s a great, well-written, relatable character who has overcome most of these issues successfully.

#Sansa stark meta #sansa stark #sansa stark characterization #asoiaf characterization #arya stark #jeyne poole #ned stark #asoiaf commentary #fandom nonsense #Anonymous #my meta

127 notes · View notes

jiminwreckedme · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar. (m)

Yoongi doesn’t feel so unfamiliar anymore, now that you feel things you haven’t before.

Genre - Smut, little angst if you peek, fuckbuddy Au (not so pwp, the characters have a bit of a backstory?) Word Count - 12K Pairing - (Bartender!) Yoongi x (Doctor!) Reader Warnings - bit of PDA (touching, making out), dirty talk of sorts, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Remember folks, No glove, no love), rough sex (maybe slight choking? and restriction too) Music - High for this, Pillowtalk

You don’t know, what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for.

“What can I get you?”

You blink at him with absolute disbelief etched across your face.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

What a killjoy.

“Fine.” You give in and lean, resting your elbows on the cold granite stone of the counter. “Surprise me.”

Close your eyes, lay yourself beside me

He stares at you intently for a moment, a very brief moment before he replies.

“Do you have any preferences? What kind of alcohol do you usually get?”

He knows the answer to that.

“Hard liquor.”

Hold tight for this ride. We don’t need no protection

“How do you feel about gin?” He points at a bottle on the shelf behind him. “We have a fine bottle of Copper & Kings, the History of lovers.”

You look at it and cross your arms, eyebrows arched up. Really?

“Or scotch maybe? Lagavulin, 16 years old, has a bit of a savory taste if that’s what you like?”

He knows the answer to that as well.

You don’t reply, looking at him pointedly but he waits, ever so ignorantly for you to use your words.

Come alone, We don’t need attention.

You give up and roll your eyes before answering him. “Remy martin.”

“Sure, how would you like it? Neat, on the rocks, straight up?-”

“Now you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“This isn’t a place to joke around Y/n,” His voice is threateningly low, yet you hear it above all that music. “You are in my workplace.”

Open your hand, take a glass. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.

“If you don’t want me to fix you a drink, I have other customers to handle, excuse me.”

Before you can even answer the question he walks away, grabbing the jigger, artfully spinning it with his fingers.

You stare at him shamelessly, oblivious to everything else, mouth going dry. Of course he was hot, Oh Min Yoongi was hot, but there was something about him standing behind that counter that was unbelievably attractive.

Even though you don’t roll. Trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this.

Maybe it was because he was dressed in that spotless see-through white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all those veins stark against his skin every time he gripped something. Maybe because he had ditched his signature style of those blonde fringes falling into his eyes and had them pushed back, out of his face. Maybe because he was doing his job, hands working fast as though they had a brain of their own, fixing all those drinks with incredible artistic skill. Or maybe because you hadn’t been laid in about three weeks now.

For whatever reason, you were tempted to just pull him by the collar over the counter and kiss the fuck out of him.

But he walks past about 4 times without looking at you even once.

You know because you sit arms crossed, your eyes following his every action. He knows you’re looking at him. You know he knows. Because almost 15 minutes later, he brings two bottles, setting them on the work space right before you, a little less gently than you would have expected, speaking to you in the same tone as earlier, but with a hint of annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“Would it kill you to talk to me normally for a minute Yoongi? Like I’m not a customer but someone who you-”

“Watch your mouth,” He shuts you up knowing very well what you were going to say next. “This is not just any place Y/n, I work here. You can’t just turn up here like this.”

“You come to my workplace all the time.”

“You work at a hospital, it’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

Yoongi gives up and he returns his momentary undivided attention towards you back to the drinks in his hands.

“Because people go to your workplace to get treated, like I do.” Your eyes are fixed on the way his hands move. So artistic. “People come to my workplace to drink, and you’ve come here to-”

You look up, meeting his eyes to find him already looking at you.

“-to fuck.”

No I did not.

What, it was okay for him to say that? Although the music was louder now than before, and with no one within an earshot of you, there’s no way anyone but you could have heard him.

“You know, it’s not like I’d say no if you came to the hospital for sex.” You mutter stupidly under your breath. Please tell me you didn’t hear that.

“Not now Y/n,” Ok, he didn’t hear that. “I’m in the middle of work.”

And he walks away again, grabbing a bottle, fixing the pourer onto it.

You watch, as he slowly spills the drink over the back of a spoon into an already half full shot glass before setting it carefully on the counter. Spinning a lighter on his finger, he clicks it and lights the surface on fire, earning the many many squeals of what looked like a bachelorette party. Though he resumes working, wiping a few glasses, he is watching the supposed bride from he corner of his eye as she downs her shot within seconds amidst all the cheering and slams the glass down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, satisfied. The edges of his lips curl into a faint smile, the contentment evident on his face despite his attempts to not to make it obvious. He was proud of his work. When he looks away from them, he sees you again and simply sighs, walking away once more to the other side of the station.

It’s a whole ten minutes before he has work in the area you are sitting, ever so patiently. You take your chance to ask him.

“You didn’t mention when your working hours were going to end?”

“When the bar closes.” He begins to wipe the water near the ice bar and doesn’t even look up when he answers. “Two, two-thirty.”

“Fine, I’ll wait then.”

That’s what gets his attention, making him stop and meet your eye.

“It’s half past 11 Y/n.”

“I know.”

“That’s almost 3 hours.”

“I know.”

He raises an eyebrow. “For sex?”

With you. “For a conversation.”

Bending down, he grabs what looks like a bottle from below the counter and slams the mouth of it on the edge of the surface, knocking the cap off, before handing it to you. “Go home Y/n, It’s not worth it.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” You point at the beer bottle he’s put in front of you. “And this is not what I ordered.”

“You live far from here. Best not to get you too tipsy or drunk so you can go back safe.”

You look at him exasperated. “Yoongi-”

“What are you doing here in the first place?” He frowns at you. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had the shift off for working overtime last week.”

“And you’re here? Instead of staying at home?”

Valid and rhetoric question. You did love staying at home, he knew you enough to know that. Turning up at a bar on your day off was quite uncharacteristic of you. Days off meant more time curled up in your bed, more documentaries to watch and just get lazy. If you weren’t someone who took every opportunity to stay at home you would never even have met Yoongi.

He was your brother’s tutor.

In a family full of doctors and scientists, your 16 year old brother was the only person insistent on becoming a fashion designer. You had assumed his passion was limited to collecting and maintaining a few catalogues and sketching designs for his blog. It was only when he was almost half way through his high school that he revealed his sincerity towards it. He was so determined, he even managed to contact some designer in Korea to intern under after he was done studying. But that meant he had to learn at least basic Korean and that’s how Yoongi came into picture. Your parents thought finding a Korean tutor in Amsterdam would be nearly impossible and frankly so did you. Until a few days later, when you got the fright of your life.

You had gotten off work early and returned home with your then boyfriend, the both of you giggling and walking in, thinking you were all alone. As the two of you sat on the couch, impatiently making out, it was then that Yoongi walked in on both of you with a simple “Could you please keep it down?” And walked back into the house.

That was the first time you saw him.

About 6 months from that day, you were in your bed grabbing the sheets as he covered your mouth with one hand and made you come with his other.

It still boggled your mind, how you went from being embarrassed whenever you saw him to sleeping with him every time you had the chance to.

It started maybe 2 days after your asshole of a boyfriend dumped you.

You were moping around the house that day after refusing to attend the baby shower of some acquaintance with the rest of your family. It was just as you were about to crawl into bed and get comfy that the bell rang and you opened the door to find Yoongi standing there. Apparently your brother hadn’t informed him about his new plans and so Yoongi turned up for the lesson as per schedule.

That’s when things started spiraling out of hand.

When he told you he would just wait on the porch for his friend to pick him up, you shouldn’t have invited him into the house you were in all alone. When he came inside and sat on the couch, you shouldn’t have told him to find you if he needed anything (even though you said it for formality’s sake). When you knew he was in the house, just one floor below you, you shouldn’t have tried to get yourself off in your room.

If you hadn’t done any of that you wouldn’t have found yourself with your fingers deep inside you, back arching off the bed when Min Yoongi knocked on your door and opened it before you could even tell him not to.

At that moment time went very strangely. It was as though he was standing at the door frame for unbelievably long, giving you all the time in the world to pull out your fingers, shut your legs close, sit up and then think of a hundred different things to say without even saying one word.

And then time sped up all of a sudden, because you have no idea how, you didn’t remember at all, but somehow Yoongi was by your bed leaning over you, planting his hand into the mattress right beside your head (Weren’t you sitting? When did you even lie down?) and then his fingers slipped into you.

That feeling of his fingers replacing yours? It was so unfamiliar but so good. They were so much longer, shaking much less, the pace so consistent - the sensation was wild. With a few thrusts he had managed to figure out how and where exactly to curl his fingers to draw that long moan out of you. And as you got louder, he got faster, not stopping for anything. Not even when he heard the car pull up in your driveway. Not even when he heard the front door opening. Not even when he clearly heard the voices of your family.

When you tried to warn him, instead of pulling them out, he covered your mouth with his hand and whispered, curling his fingers just the way you needed him to. “Shh, be a good girl and come for me Y/n.”

And you did, almost instantly, giving yourself just enough time to (1), ride the high on his fingers before (2), he pulled them out and calmly hid himself, standing against the wall right by the door while (3), you pulled the sheets over your half bare body - all just in time, before your father opened the door of your room to check up on you.

After you assured him you were fine, he left, closing the door behind him, slowly revealing Yoongi who stood there calmly, simply watching you propped up on your elbows looking at him as he slipped both his fingers into his mouth, sucking your arousal clean off his fingers before he left, a smirk dancing on his face. And as you fell back into your bed staring at the ceiling in absolutely disbelief, you heard him making his way down the stairs, updating your family on everything right up to the part where he stood by your bedroom door.

And that’s how your first orgasm with Yoongi happened.

And though you knew it was not right to let a man you barely knew do that to you again, a part of you knew that was definitely not your last orgasm with him.

The next time you saw him, about two days later, he was absolutely normal, behaving with you like he always did, like all that did not even happen. Even when you found him alone for a minute in the dining room and told him you had to talk to him, all he said was “Not now, I’m in the middle of work.” Almost an hour later, he approached you while you were strolling outside, in the backyard, surfing through your phone. When you saw him out there, your first reaction for some reason was to panic and try to hide him away from the eyes of anyone who might see you together. Yoongi was clearly confused the whole time, especially when you climbed the dog kernel right under your bedroom window, and sneaked into your own room in broad daylight, ( similar to your teenage days when you came back home late at night). But he calmly just followed you.

When you found him in your room alone once again, that was when you finally spoke to him.

“We haven’t spoken about….that incident.”

“What about it?”

“You- I mean I- that was a one time thing Yoongi, you understand?”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done?”

“Y-Yes?”

“So I can go now?”

You look at him surprised. “Do you have nothing to say?”

“No. If you don’t want this, then there’s nothing left to say.”

“If I wanted more then?”

“Then I’d say, I thought so.”

“W-what?”

“I have never had one time encounters Y/n, I don’t do them and never will.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Of course, it was. The way you felt when you got off his fingers? Who wouldn’t want to ride that high again? Women probably crawled back to him all the time, and he probably couldn’t have one time encounters even if he wanted to.

“I don’t like to.” He shrugs very simply. “I like to work on the basis of…..you can call it an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“Just two rules.”

Rules?

“First, while this is going on, I won’t sleep with anyone else and you shouldn’t either.” He gives a pause letting you take in that information before he continues. “Second, If either of us should want to end it, for whatever reason, then we tell the other person and we’re done. No justifications, no explanations needed. When one person says no, it ends, as simple as that.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I am only going to proceed if you are okay with that Y/n. All you have to do is ask.” He takes a step closer to you. “Ask me and I’ll give it to you.”

At that moment you really didn’t think it through when you said yes. You just wanted him. And that day after you made sure you locked the door this time, Min Yoongi made you come with his tongue not once but twice.

It had been going on since that day.

Though quite frankly, you didn’t know what to call yourselves. This was exclusive after all and a sort of commitment as well but nowhere even close to a relationship. He wasn’t exactly a booty call either. You couldn’t just text or call him every time you were horny, Yoongi wasn’t a man who entertained those kinds of requests. Sex, hence only happened in certain conditions and that was whenever came to your house.

So Min Yoongi who used to come to your house every weekend to tutor your brother began staying for an extra hour to ‘tutor’ you as well. When you told your parents you wanted to learn Korean, it was a miracle they didn’t question it. Maybe because Yoongi didn’t charge extra for teaching you (“I’m not going to charge to fuck you Y/n, that’s not how this works.”) or maybe because your extremely social parents were barely at home during the weekends and didn’t really care much about what their adult daughter did. Much like your brother who spent most of his time holed up in the basement working on his own thing. That left you and Yoongi all alone in your room for an hour twice a week. Yes, sex with him was technically pre-scheduled. So he was far from a booty call.

Could you call yourselves fuck buddies then? Initially you didn’t know if you could, you both were not even close to what you would consider ‘buddies’ - you barely spoke. Every time you and Yoongi found yourselves together, you only ever had sex. You could barely remember an incident or two when you didn’t actually fuck upon finding yourselves alone. Once when he saw a scar on your body and asked you what it was. You remember telling him, showing him the other scars too, telling the stories behind each of them and he did the same when you asked him. You didn’t remember sleeping with him that day. Or on that day when Yoongi turned up in animated pizza printed underwear and you couldn’t stop laughing. That day you didn’t have sex either. Instead you showed him all your printed underwear as a peace offering.

But that was about it. There were no other instances as far as you could remember. But if you really did have to give the relationship between you two a name, you preferred to call yourselves fuck buddies. You don’t know what Yoongi thought of that, you always just referred to it as ‘the agreement’.

And the agreement was going like it was for the last one year - just fine, till about three weeks ago, when your brother told Yoongi he didn’t need to be tutored anymore.

You were wondering what that meant for you and Yoongi. Because if he wasn’t going to come home for your brother anymore, it made no sense coming home for just you. You had no idea how you were going to continue this arrangement of yours now and only hoped that Yoongi had some alternative in mind. You tried calling him about it but he didn’t pick up. You dropped him a bunch of texts but he didn’t reply to any. Was he busy? Was he ignoring you? You didn’t know.

Your last ray of hope was that weekend. Your parents and brother had planned to go to Korea for a week to attend the new collection launch of the designer your brother was in contact with. You could have gone too, expect you had to go to work. That’s what you told yourself but deep down you knew that meeting Yoongi was also a part of your agenda. For all you knew, that weekend could have been your last time with him. So you sent him a message that you were all alone at home this weekend and just sat with your fingers crossed, hoping he would turn up.

He didn’t show up on Saturday.

And didn’t show up on Sunday either.

Another week passed by like that and then another. With you calling him only to reach voicemail, with you sending him texts only to be replied with silence. It was starting to reach the point where you actually began worrying about whether he was even okay or not because, was it really normal to ignore someone for so long? And you didn’t even know how to meet him at least to make sure he was at least alright. You had no idea where he lived, where else he worked, what other jobs he did, nothing. You knew nothing about him.

Except that he was some sort of expert when it came to alcohol. You were surprised when you came across some of his papers on which he had scribbled, in the messiest handwriting possible, some recipes for cocktails. Back then you didn’t think about why he had such stuff written down, rather you were more fascinated by all those interesting concoctions and so you excitedly asked him about each of them while he calmly answered them. (Oh. That was another day you didn’t have sex with him.)

That night though, you had thought about it, why he might’ve known so much. It was one thing to have an opinion on different kinds of alcohol but to know things such as what kind of ice and what kind of strainer to use? That was definitely not general knowledge, he undoubtedly was a professional of some sort. You had made a mental note to ask him the next time you saw him but you couldn’t. Not when his dick was thrusted deep inside you, his mouth hot on your neck.

A few days ago, when you took a closer look at his profile picture as you sat for the hundredth time wondering why he wasn’t getting back to you, in the background you saw the neon letters spelling out the name of a bar (Truck You) you had only heard about quite often. Putting two and two together, you began wondering if Min Yoongi might actually be a bartender of some sorts and if that was his workplace. There was only one way to find out and that was to personally go there and see for yourself but you were swarmed with night shifts at the hospital and heading to a bar was out of question.

Till today, when you finally got a day off because your friend offered to take your shift to repay a favor last week. And the moment you got free your first thought drifted towards looking out for Yoongi. Even though you knew it could be pointless - he might go there often or he might even have just been there once - and there was no guarantee you’d find him there today, this was your shot in the dark. You had one chance to try and one place you could do so at. So you took it.

And it paid off because the minute you walked in, your eyes fell on Yoongi behind the counter. At that moment there was just a wave of mixed emotions. You were happy he was fine, you were proud of yourself for finding him, you were mad that he was absolutely okay and just ignored you for three weeks, you were so turned on seeing him dressed like that - so many things at once. But you squashed all those feelings in and just sat on the bar stool waiting for him to react when he spots you. It had been so long since you saw him, you had to first make sure this was not a dream. And when he finally did see you a few minutes later, his eyes widened for barely a second (so this was real) before he resumed looking completely indifferent.

And he still looked so unbothered as he worked that cocktail shaker effortlessly. It was as though you didn’t even exist and you couldn’t do anything about it. All that could be done now was wait.

And you do, boredly squirming, tapping your finger on the surface, occasionally sipping on the beer which had gone pretty flat, looking at him whip up all those drinks for what seemed excruciatingly long. You did that till you heard a voice.

“The bar is about to close.”

Your eyes fly open and find a man dressed much like Yoongi, standing right before you with a name tag that read ‘Hoseok.’ When did you even fall asleep and for how long? Your first instinct is to look for Yoongi.

He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“It’s my turn to clean up today so I guess he’s done for the day?”

“He left?”

“I didn’t see him leave the bar though. He might still be changing?”

“Where?”

Hoseok scratches the back of his head. “I’m not sure you can go there though, it’s for staff only.”

You sigh, really tired of everything. “Please.”

Hoseok looks at you with what seemed like pity in his eyes. “Are you Y/n?”

“H-How do you know?”

“There.” He points, but you don’t look. “The room next to the back door.”

“But how do you know my-”

“He’s leaving.”

You turn to see Yoongi far across the crowd on the dance floor, stepping out of the room in his usual simple tee and ripped jeans outfit. Hurriedly thanking Hoseok you rushed through the crowd “sorry, sorry.” till you finally reached the blonde man and grab him by the wrist to his absolute surprise and drag him away from the music out of the back door.

When you step out, the first thing that hits you is the smell of the trash from all the trash cans nearby, but you don’t care.

You let go of Yoongi and cross your arms but he beats you to the conversation.

“I was going to come talk to you.”

You cut it, straight to the point. “Why did not talk to me all these days?”

“Y/n,” He sighs, “I’ve just been busy.”

“How busy do you have to be to not find the time to type two words?” You unlock the phone in your hand and hold up your chat over the days, forcing him to see it.

You : Yoongi, are you okay? You : Please say something, I’m getting scared. You : Just say you’re okay and I can be at peace. You : Where are you Yoongi? You : Why are you doing this? You : Please, please just tell me once that you’re fine.

“I’m fine.” You put your phone down sighing. “That’s all you had to say to all this, that you’re fine. Do you know how worried I was?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? It’s been 3 weeks and I haven’t heard a word from you, I was scared something happened-”

“To our agreement?”

What? That’s what he thought you were worried about? Sex? Yeah of course, for a day, maybe two but after that you had been worried for his life. Wasn’t it basic humanity to? To worry and care for people you were associated with? Would he have not felt the same if he was in your place? Or were you the one thinking about this more than you needed to?

“Yes.” You lie. “You said our agreement would end only if we tell each other we wanted it to end. Ghosting me for three weeks was not mentioned-”

“I don’t want it to end.” He says it instantly and so earnestly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t want to end things?

Deep down, this was your biggest fear, something you didn’t even admit to yourself. Being worried for Yoongi’s general well-being helped suppress every other reason for panic but with him standing in front of you and knowing that he was okay, there was only one thing left to be scared of. That he wanted to end things. That if Yoongi said he didn’t want this agreement anymore you’d have to stop seeing each other. You didn’t want to stop.

“So you…..you don’t want to end things.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“You don’t want to end things, you won’t reply to me, you won’t sleep with me and I can’t sleep with anyone else either, do you know how frustr-”

“Do you want to sleep with anyone else?”

His question throws you off. Out of all the things you had listed that’s what he catches? If he wasn’t ignoring you because he was planning on ending the agreement then….Is it because that’s what’s bothering him?

“Wait Yoongi, this isn’t one of those ‘I’m catching feelings for you’ kind of situations right?”

He blinks for a bit and then lets out a short laugh. “Are you mad?”

“Then….then what’s the problem?”

“I told you, I was busy.”

“With what Yoongi? What were you so busy with that you send me a message-”

“I lost my scholarship.” He confesses, taking you aback. “I have one term left to finish my degree in English Language. They cut my grants off because of some new rules and now I have to pay full tuition payment for a term and……I don’t think I can afford it.”

“Oh.” You stutter, completely thrown off by the information. “I-I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know that.”

“You don’t know anything.”

That was unfair.

“How would I?” You whisper softly. “It’s not like you told me-”

“I don’t need to Y/n.” He smiles sadly. “We don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

As much as those words were true they still made you feel strangely disappointed.

“Can….can I ask you what you’re going to do about it now?” You immediately add. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not eligible to get a decent loan with the earnings of a bartender. The only way to do this is…..to earn the money myself.” He reveals. “I’ve been trying to get a job over the last few weeks. I applied to couple of places and last week I got an offer, to teach Korean in this tuition center, over the weekends.”

“That’s great!” You smile, deeply relieved on the inside. “I’m so happy for you…How has it been working there?”

“I haven’t accepted their offer yet though.”

“What?” You’re washed over by a wave of shock. “Why not?”

“I’ve been considering dropping out instead,” He slips his hands into his pocket. “I want to follow my dream over what I think my dream should be.”

You know exactly what he means. It hits home. You always thought your dream was should be being a doctor, you grew up with the idea, you were brought up with the idea, you convinced yourself that it was your dream. But all those posters in your house stuck inside your cupboards, those stages, those costumes, those routines. That should have been your dream. Being a dancer should have been your dream.

“What is your dream?”

“To be my own boss.” He smiles. “Open my own bar one day. Maybe a chain. Serve the best kind of alcohol in the whole city. Have crazy Friday nights with packed tables and happy people. That’s my dream.”

“Then why….”

“It’s not a small investment, something like that. Even if I work 7 days of the week, save almost every cent of what I earn, it will be years before I can make enough money to do something like that. I thought the more practical approach to life then was to just change the dream”

He sighs, chest rising then falling.

“But whenever I look at the tuition fee I have to pay to finish this degree? It doesn’t make any sense to me. If I really had to churn up so much money, I figured I might as well put it where it makes me happy instead.”

“So you mean you want to drop out and…then what?”

“Kick start my dream by writing a book.” A book? “More of guide to be honest, for bartenders, it’ll have tips and techniques, how to actually use equipment, recipes, things of that sort. You’d be surprised how many people out there call themselves professional without knowing basic things like what ice to use-”

“Ice that’s not cloudy.” You state confidently, catching Yoongi off guard and shrug. “You told me this once. Ice is to a bartender what fire is to a chef.”

So that’s what all those notes had been about.

“Yeah.” He looks impressed. “But that means I have to experiment a lot, invest too much time and money, I don’t think I can do that with two jobs and continuing a degree. I have to decide what to hold on to and what to let go.”

Did you choose to let go us?

“Is that….is this why you’ve been so- I mean, is this why you couldn’t reply to me?”

“I need to sort things in my life first Y/n, and our agreement…… I didn’t think I should prioritize it at this point.”

“Of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m the stupid one, I should’ve understood you had your own problems, I’m so sorry, I just….I was being an idiot, I guess I was just so used to you being a constant the last one year, it was strange cutting off everything all of a sudden. I probably” You let out a short stupid laugh, “Probably even missed you-”

“Probably?” He chuckles. “I for one, definitely missed you.”

“Yeah sure.” You mock him, trying to lighten the mood even more, now that he was smiling again. “You wouldn’t have been able to stand so far away if you really did-”

He takes two quick strides and the rest of you words are lost against his mouth as he kisses you, trapping you between his hands against the wall. There’s a mix of urgency and gentleness in the way he moves, as though he badly wanted this but also wanted to take his time. You didn’t take his word for it, but it almost seems like he really did miss you. You take his face in your hands, gaining control, easing your lips against his, savoring the moment, not wanting to rush it through. Yoongi groans softly, low in his throat pulling your hands down with his, pinning them above you, against the wall kissing your neck as he whispered. “It was so hard to resist the urge to do this the moment I saw you.”

Your breathing becomes more audible as you arch off the wall, baring more of your throat to him, spiraling, getting lost in the sensation, before you finally manage to find the voice to ask him to stop.

“I’m….I’m not going to have sex with you near the trash cans Yoongi.”

He pulls back, face so close to yours as he grinned. “It’s been three weeks, I thought you might be desperate enough to.” There he was.

“You give yourself too much credit.” You wriggle your hands making him loosen his grip. You wanted him so badly, it had really had been way too long but the smell of the trash? You couldn’t bear it. “I just can’t here, the smell kinda ruins the mood.”

“Yeah we should get out of here.” Yoongi let’s your hand go, taking a step back. Where to though? “Let me grab my things.”

You nod and walk into the bar as Yoongi holds the door open for you.

Maybe because it’s much later at night but the lights were dimmer and the crowd was much lesser and the music was a lot slower and a lot sexier than you remembered it. You can feel your body automatically swaying to the music, forgetting the world around you. You didn’t even notice when Yoongi stepped in behind you and walked into the changing rooms.

Climb on board, We’ll go slow and high tempo

Letting the music lead you, you walk in, to the edge of the dance floor and let your body move the way it feels its right. It felt so good to dance again. You’re so lost in your own private bubble, it takes a while before you notice Yoongi standing in his leather jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder, just staring at you.

You beckon him towards you with a smile and he complies but he doesn’t take your hand when you hold it out, shaking his head instead.

“I don’t dance.”

You laugh and reach for his wrists instead, pulling him closer, wrapping them around your waist.

Light and dark. Hold me hard and mellow

“What a pity, women find a man who can dance attractive.”

“That’s a personal preference.”

“It’s a scientific fact.”

Yoongi chuckles. “As far as I remember, when you entered the club, you walked past all those ‘dancing men’ and sat right there for 3 hours” He points at the stool on the other side of the floor with a tilt of his head, that cocky look on his face. “What does that tell you?”

You shrug, continuing to play with the metal of the chain resting on his chest, as though you didn’t know the answer to that.

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure. Nobody but you, ‘body but me. ‘Body but us, bodies together.

“Those men may move their bodies however they like, but a woman likes a man who knows her body.” His voice is so fucking deep. “Like I know yours.”

“Do you now?” You run your finger along the line of his jaw. “It’s been so long since you’ve even touched me-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses himself onto you and you can feel it. How incredibly hard he’s gotten. “No one knows you like I do, I can promise you that.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you run your hand from his chest to all the way down there, rubbing him ever so slightly over the material of his jeans. “I could say the same”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

You want to see a warning flash in his eyes or some sort of reaction to your actions, but all he does is let out a breath. “It’s been three weeks, I didn’t think you would be in the state to tease.”

“I figured if you could leave me like that for so long, a few minutes shouldn’t hurt you-”

“3 hours.” Yoongi stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen in his eyes before. “Ever since you walked into the bar and sat there.”

I love to hold you close, tonight and always. I love to wake up next to you.

“Nonsense.” You put your arms around his neck, laughing. He was being ridiculous after all. “You barely looked at me the whole time.”

“I didn’t need to. Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.”

So we’ll piss off the neighbors.

You almost gasp, eyes widening, feeling that throbbing sensation in your core. Yoongi never speaks like this outside your bedroom.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About w-what?”

He turns you around, your back against his erection pressing into you, his lips on the skin of your shoulder making their way up. He’s holding you in place with just one arm across your waist, his other hand is drawing circles on the skin your extremely short dress was exposing.

In the place that feels the tears. The place to lose your fears.

“Your moans” He’s not even whispering, he’s making sure he’s heard. “The way you sound when I’m fucking you, when you say my name.”

“The way your hands run down my back and how it feels to be inside you, so tight,” Its like he knows you clenched your walls at that exact moment. “fuck so tight all time, its like I’ve not been there a hundred times already.”

Reckless behavior.

“Yoongi-”

“And how you smell, that scent of you drives me crazy,” His voice suddenly goes so low, you unwillingly feel yourself swallow nothing. “and I can smell it right now. Is that how wet you are already?” You still can’t move. “I’m sure I can easily slide in two fingers. Maybe even three? You’re a good girl, I know you can take it.”

A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw.

It’s so hard for words to leave you. “I-I know something better you can put inside me Min Yoongi.”

He chuckles, “I offered to earlier today, you said I give myself too much credit.”

“Did you really take my word for it?” You turn to him, pressing your hips into his.

He lets out a small laugh. “Have you always been this easy to please?” There was so much pride in his voice. But he deserved to feel that. You were practically a puddle in his hands. “I can’t remember”

“Fuck me and you will.” You can’t hear or think of anything else, your hands finding that tiny cold metal of his pants and they start to unzip it already, forcing Yoongi to hold your wrist and stop you.

“I’m not sure this is the right place for it-”

“I take it back, I don’t mind doing it near the backdoor, trash cans or not.”

Yoongi smirks at your desperation. “We’ve been waiting for 3 hours, I think we both deserve more than that.”

“Yoongi…..” You whine, desperate. “Where do you want to go then? My parents will be home now.”

“I know….” He trails off for a bit. “I know a place nearby we can go to, about 10 minutes away. Would that be okay with you?”

After all these months was Yoongi finally taking you to his house?

“10 minutes is all you get.”

“Perfect.” He steps back flashing his gummy smile, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.”

The moment he leads you into the darkness of his house and shuts the door behind you, you don’t waste time and press him up against it, hooking you fingers in his belt loops, slamming your lips onto his. And he responds by letting his backpack slip from his shoulder onto the floor before he takes your face in his hand, slipping his tongue into your mouth, eliciting that soft whimper from you. His hands don’t wait there, wandering down, caressing your neck before he pushes his jacket that you had borrowed during the bike ride here off your shoulders, making you quickly reach behind and drag the sleeves down your arms before crumpling it unbothered and throwing it, however far your arm could extend.

“Careful!” Yoongi abruptly pulls back, making you almost bite your own lip as he cautions you, pointing at the silhouette of a vase you nearly knocked down with the jacket. “I have no idea how expensive anything is here. We don’t want to fall into any kind of trouble.”

You freeze.

All that excitement, the awe, the thrill, everything in you extinguishes in a second, the moment you hear that statement.

“Yoongi. This-this isn’t your house?”

“I wish.” He chuckles, hand searching the wall for the switches and flipping them on upon finding them. “My house isn’t even a quarter the size of this.”

When your eyes adjust to the brightness and you are finally able to see something other than shadows, you’re awestruck because the place is, well, absolutely beautiful. The white and blue tones of the walls, the slightly antique looking furniture, all those books racked up in bookshelves and those paintings on the walls - none of it looked even close to what you would imagine his place to look like.

“Oh my god, this isn’t your house.”

Yoongi shakes his head as if it’s that simple.

“A friend’s house?”

He shakes his head again.

“Do you even know who lives here?”

“For someone who was eager enough to do it by the trashcans you are having an awful lot of questions now.”

“Yoongi, just answer.”

He picks up his jacket and backpack from the floor and walks in casually to dump it on the couch.

“No, I don’t really know who lives here.”

You freeze. “Oh my god, what are we doing here?!”

He shrugs. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“What?!” Your voice leaves you as angry whispers. “Yoongi, that doesn’t mean we trespass into someone’s private-”

“Relax Y/n. I have the keys.” He fishes them out from his back pocket, jiggling them at you before he throws them onto the couch as well. “ I have permission, this is far from illegal. My housing agent suggested this space.”

You slowly walk into the house, the fear subsiding with each step.

“The owner lives in Sydney, so I was free to come over and check it out whenever I wanted to. Though the agent did ask him to let him know when I do….” He grins. “Guess I just forgot. “

“I can’t believe you Yoongi.” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting back a smile. “So technically, we are breaking in?”

“Not technically-”

“Yoongi, you just brought me to some random persons house to have sex.”

“Should I be scared that you don’t sound disappointed saying that?”

“Hmm, I like it.” You smile slowly, walking up to him, a glint of mischief in your eyes “I’m so tired of us always having to do it in my bedroom, keeping it down, trying not to get caught. That had its own thrill but here,” Pressing your body against his you tiptoe, weaving your fingers into the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Here you can make me scream.”

Yoongi lets out a short laugh, his hands finding the curves of your hips, walking you back till you feel the edge of the breakfast bar behind, and kissing you in a way that dragged out those desperate moans. When he pulls back letting you breath and whispering, “Trust me, I’m dying to.”, you look at him chest heaving, biting your lip that was already missing his mouth. His eyes are darken with a mix of desire and something you couldn’t quite tell as he began littering kisses along your collarbone and you attempt to pull your hair into a ponytail, the way he likes it, thank god for the hair tie on your wrist. His hands grip your thighs as he stands between them and his mouth feels so good but you want so much more.

“Are you just going to kiss me all night?” Your voice shakes as he makes a trail up your neck.“I can think of better places you can put your mouth.”

“Such impatience.” He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders and down your arms, his long fingers brushing them excruciatingly slowly. Of course, Min Yoongi’s recipe for mind blowing sex - foreplay, teasing, edging. But you were not in the mood for any of that today.

“You ditched me for 3 weeks,” You work faster than him, almost swatting his hands aside and pulling the dress down to bunch up at your waist, “I think I’ve been patient enough.” You unhook the clasp of your bra, and slide it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor, unbothered. Yoongi’s expression darkens as your fingers find the zip of his jeans, and unzip it without hesitation.

“Come on Yoongi, how much more do you want me to ask?”

He smirks but complies nevertheless, dragging his hands under your dress and up your thigh, pushing the material of your panties aside, running his finger between your folds.

“You’re so wet, fuck.” There is something about the way his voice goes so low and deep when he’s aroused that makes you clench your walls harder. “I could slip in there so easily, fill you up so good. Would you like that?”

Fuck yes Min Yoongi. That’s what you want to say. But you can’t. Not when he doesn’t even wait before he slides two fingers inside you, and all you can do is let out a soft moan, your body instantly reacting to the familiar feeling of his long digits thrusted inside you. But before you can fully savor that sensation, he pulls them out completely, much to your disappointment.

“Lift your hips for me.”

And you obey pulling away from the edge of the counter letting him tug that tight dress down your legs, throwing it somewhere. He pulls out the bar stool from behind you, guiding you to sit on it.

“Turn.”

You frown, not understanding as he swiftly spins the apparently rotatable stool half a round, pressing himself against your back. As you open your mouth to complain about not being about to see him, his hand slides from behind, over your waist, down there and this time, when he plunges his fingers into your heat again, “Oh fuck yes.” the feeling is wild.

His hand finds your breast as you feel yourself arch off against him, whimpers spilling from you mouth. He doesn’t let you grind against his hand, and picks up the pace instead knowing that’s what you want, as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, months of experience telling him just how deep you liked it and just how fast. His hand switches between your breasts, mouth hot on your neck as you tip your head back, quickening the pleasure building up inside, your breaths getting louder, shorter. It’s been so long since you’ve even been touched, with him pumping his digits into you like that, it doesn’t take long for you to edge.

“Fuck, I’m going to come, Yoongi, stop.” You weakly attempt to hold his wrist but of course you are not successful, not when you feel him run his tongue up your neck. “Fuck, I want you inside me when I come, please, just stop-”

“Cute.” He lightly sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, whispering against it. “What makes you think you’re only going to come once tonight?”

You bite back a moan, stuttering “Fuck, yes, yes, yes, right there”, incoherently and it takes just the slight pressure of his thumb on your clit and you fall apart instantly, breathing heavily.

When he feels you finish riding your high and relax around his fingers, he slowly pulls them out, and you turn to face him, finally gaining the ability to address his cockiness. “Make me come more than once today? Don’t you have a lot of confidence Min Yoongi?”

“I think I’m allowed to have it.” He sucks on his fingers, smirking proudly around them. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

The effect he had on you. Every time. Every time he managed to make such a panting mess of you all while remaining so calm, so composed and today, fully clothed moreover, with just his zip down. You look at the bulge in his pants, and you can tell he is not at his most comfortable, yet he waited for you to make the move.

You grab the edge of his shirt and pull it up, over his head, dropping it the moment he’s free of it, and run your hands against the pale skin of his torso as he watches you patiently. Oh but today you had the upper hand. You were satisfied by his fingers already while here he was, an erection still in his boxers. If you wanted you could give him a taste of his lesson, tease the life out of him, but there was something you were holding onto all these days, something you wanted to tell him for quite a few weeks now.

“Do you have a condom?”

He nods, reaching for his back pocket to take out his tattered wallet as you palm him over the material of his boxers before sliding your hand in to and griping his erection, drawing a very soft but audible groan from his throat.

“You’re going to have to take my cock out if you want to use this sweetheart,” He holds the foil pointedly.

“Or not.” You mutter unsure as you take the foil from him and put it on the surface next to you. “We don’t really have to use it you know.”

What did that expression mean?

When Yoongi doesn’t reply to that, you don’t know what to do but continue.

“I’ve uh,” Why you are so hesitant? “I’ve started taking the pill.” You bite your lower lip, muttering. “So if you are okay with it…..we can do this without protection.”

It’s a while before Yoongi stops just blinking at you and replies. “You’re saying,” He looks away momentarily, letting out a struggled breath. “You’re saying it’s ok if I fuck you raw-”

“I’m saying I want you to.” You look him straight in the eye, dead serious. “Fuck me raw.” Then quickly add, “If you want to, that is.”

Yoongi actually takes a few steps back instead. “The first time we slept together, you said without a condom, it felt too intimate.”

“Oh,” You scoff. “That was my nice way of saying ‘god knows what nasties you are carrying’.”

You roll your eyes when he looks at you confused. “STDs Yoongi.”

“I was clean then, clean now. You knew that.”

“Only because you said so.” You point out. “But I have medical proof now because I might have looked up your test results on our hospital records…?” You trail off, voice softening a bit in embarrassment. You weren’t prepared to answer all these details, it was a simple yes or no question.

“Really?”

“Yeah well,” You shrug. “I’m a resident, I have access to all kinds of records-”

“No, about this.” He straightens out, standing upright. “You really want to? You-you’re serious about….this.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Yeah, I mean, I am clean but I don’t have any evidence right now-”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You swallow on nothing, surprised by his trust in you.

“Uh and unless you’ve slept with someone the last few weeks-”

He scoffs, “You think?”

With just two strides, he’s right before you once more, kissing you with a ferocity that was new to you but you kissed him back just as intensely, biting, running your tongue over his lips, over where they meet, just inside of them, tracing their outline with the tip of your tongue. You slide your hand into his boxer, gripping his erection, attempting to free it, and he helps you, pulling both his boxers and his pants halfway down his thighs.

“Take them off.” You whisper and he obeys taking a step back and swiftly pulling off the last of his clothes as you push aside your drenched panties and stick your fingers inside you, feeling all that wetness, gathering it. Yoongi’s eyes follow your digits as you pull them out, your arousal slick between your fingers and he looks up to your mouth, as though he expected you to slip them in there. Instead, you gesture him to come closer with them and when he does you wrap your hand around his erection, the wetness of your fingers letting you stroke it with a little ease as you feel his breath get heavier.

“Can’t wait to put this in my mouth.” You coo into his ear, attempting to slide off the stool but he pins you by your thighs, not letting you move.

“Not tonight.” Yoongi refusing a blow job? He groans as you run your thumb over his tip. “I want to fuck you right now-”

“Then fuck me.”

Holding you in place with his hands under your knees, he wastes no time - no teasing your slit with his tip, not even pushing himself in you slowly to allow you to adjust his thickness, not even bothering to fully remove your panties, he just pushes them aside and he thrusts himself in with one swift move and fuck, the feeling of his bare cock in you is so foreign but unbelievably gratifying. You can feel it inside you, down to the last detail, your walls clenching, aching for some movement. But Yoongi just wraps your legs around his waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands digging into your thighs, surely bruising them.

“Yoongi, move.” You moan into his ear, entwining your arms around his neck. “Please.”

And he does, picking up the pace, giving it to you so hard, your nails find themselves raking his back. He kisses you along your shoulder, not letting you hear the soft grunts he couldn’t help but let out. You though, wince every time he thrusts into you, body sore from your fixed position.

“It hurts.” When he doesn’t stop, you slide your fingers into his hair, and tug his head back, letting him see you and realize you were hurting. You sense how it takes every bit of his energy to halt and mutter. “I’ve been sitting for far too long.”

“Bedroom?” He asks, almost short of breath. When you shake your head he swiftly pulls you down from the bar stool, giving you immediate relief.

“Are you okay?” You nod but he doesn’t seem convinced. “We can find a bedroom-”

He goes speechless the moment you turn around, gripping the edges of the counter and slightly bend over. You just wanted a change in position, you weren’t really thinking about the effect it might have on him.

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Is this what you imagined?” You try to peer over your shoulder. “In the bar earlier today?”

He’s still silent. You can’t really see him well but you know he’s watching as you touch yourself, eager for him to shove himself back in there.

“No.” He murmurs.

You feel his hands on the elastic of your underwear, pulling it down to where he said he pictured it, before he makes his way back up, kissing and biting softly along the inside of your thigh, dropping one last kiss on the skin of your lower waist before he confesses in your ear in a low voice,

“This is so much better, you have no idea.”

Your proud smile falters the moment he digs his fingers into your hips definitely making bruises, and rams himself inside you, making your head dip down in pleasure as you bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold back.” He speedens his movements in and out, the new angle letting him snap his hips against yours faster and deeper. “I want to hear you.”

So you let him. Parting your lips you let him hear what he does to you, moaning his name and it drives him crazy because you feel him getting more aggressive, not hesitating at all. His hand wanders up, pressing into your skin wherever it could, grabbing your breast almost painfully before reaching your wrist, tapping it.

“Let go.” He growls, and the moment you obey he harshly pushes you forward, right up against the counter, till every bit of the skin of your upper body is against the cold surface, giving him the ability to pound into you harder almost as though he had no intentions of holding back.

“Shit,” You try to raise yourself but he leans over and pins you with his hand on the nape of your neck, restricting you against the surface, your cheek still against the coldness. “Fuck,” You moan shamelessly. “I forgot how good you fucked me Yoongi.”

No cocky response to that? It’s like he doesn’t care anymore, nothing but an occasional grunt or two leaving him unwittingly, his breath the most audible thing from him. You wish you could see him fucking you like this. Sex with Yoongi never was gentle love making but it also wasn’t this sort of rough fucking. You hated to admit how much you liked it. Even more so when he takes both your hands and holds them firmly against your lower back with his single hand, and starts to lose his rhythm, thrusts getting sloppy.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” You feel his lips on your shoulder, trying not to sink his teeth into your skin. “Where do you want me to?”

Like you could respond to that with your mouth so dry and you were approaching your high too.

“Fucking hell Y/n, you need to tell me, shit I’m so close-”

“Inside, inside.” You whimper, breathlessly. “Come inside me Yoongi.”

And before you even finish your sentence he groans, shooting his load with a few thrusts, the warmth filling you up as you clench around him, desperate to hold on to the sensation of him inside you to tip over the edge once more.

“Stop. I’m going to get hard again if you do that.”

You sense him move back, slowly sliding out of you as you feel his cum leaking down, threatening to dribble down your thighs. Turning around you look at him, eyes savoring the sight of completely fucked out Yoongi before you as you get down on your knees slowly, taking his cum covered cock in your mouth, sucking him clean, that alluring taste of him making you want more and more. Yoongi lifts your chin with a finger under it, pulling you back as he looks down at you.

“If I get hard again, I can’t promise I won’t break you. So don’t try, Y/n.”

Fuck.

Normally you wouldn’t have laughed at that, but being deprived of your orgasm makes you gutsy.

You chuckle, standing up, licking your lips. “Speaking of promises, someone said I’ll be coming more than once tonight.”

His eyebrows furrow as the realization hits him and honestly, it surprised you just as much as it surprised him. Min Yoongi just fucked you with the most minimal foreplay, absolutely no teasing, and the man who had always made it his mission to make you orgasm first was standing here with his cum all up inside you before you had the chance to. It clearly hurts his ego because you can see the determination in his eyes to change things.

Pushing you back onto the stool, he gets on his knees instead and you gasp, seeing his head between your legs like that. Yoongi, who is so repelled by the idea of tasting himself that he wouldn’t even kiss you after you blow him was here, latching his mouth around your cum filled cunt, delving his tongue inside you. You are already so sensitive from his cock inside you earlier and it doesn’t help that he looks so hot buried between your legs like that, meeting your eyes, you can feel that tightening sensation rise in you again. Desperate, you catch yourself almost grinding against his tongue till he finds the need to stop you, taking one of your legs over his shoulder making you reach for support from the counter behind.

“Fuck y-yes.” You whimper, his mouth sucking on your cunt so hard and he brings his hand up to your clit, rubbing on it hard and fast and it takes less than a minute for you reach your orgasm, vision fading to black as you rake your fingers through his hair softly. He runs his tongue along the folds on last time and your look down at as he drops a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

As he stands up you slowly adjust yourself, rolling your neck to relieve yourself, pulling the hair tie, freeing your hair. Yeah furniture sex is great, but your body was surely going to hurt like a bitch in a few hours.

Yoongi holds you gently by the elbow, planting a brief kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?”

“You should ask me this question tomorrow because that is when I’ll know.” You laugh.

“I will.” He nods, picking your clothes from the floor handing it to you. You take it, trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

“Uh, I should go pee.” You hold your clothes against your chest, suddenly embarrassed about how much you were exposing to him.

“The washroom is probably down the hall.”

He moves to the side giving you way and you leave with a small thankful smile, hurrying with small steps, eyes searching around the house. When you push the bathroom door upon finding it, you are greeted by a full size mirror making you jump reflexively. “Ah fuck….”

You’re a mess.

You knew you were probably looking like one, but you didn’t know to what extent. You bite your lip looking at the purple marks stark against your shoulders and the inside of your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t usually mark you. Simply because you didn’t allow him to, at least not the neck. You told him that was off limits because you worked at a hospital and you obviously couldn’t go to work looking like that, it wasn’t appropriate. You did say though, that you didn’t mind anywhere else but he never seemed interested in that proposition because he never even tried to. But today looking at those marks, the pride in your chest does a happy backflip. Yoongi really lost control today.

When you clean yourself up and come out, you don’t know why you are surprised to see him still there. Maybe because every time after the both of you slept together, either he had to rush or you had to, there was never an opportunity to so much as even look at each other, forget saying something.

But here he was, with just his pants back on, shirt still lying discarded on the floor as he makes himself busy cleaning the surface of the table with a wet tissue, much like how he was clearing his station a few hours ago.

You sink into the couch nearby and watch him take his time, running here and there, scrubbing the surface clean, once with a wet tissue, then with a dry tissue, scrounging around febreze, spraying it around the place, sniffing it carefully in the air. You smile at his antics, shaking your head.

“Alright, clean here.” He grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head. “Oh yeah, sanitizer.” Your habits really did grow onto him. You did not know why and what kind of role you played in Yoongi’s life but the last 3 weeks taught you something. For some reason, you don’t know what exactly but Yoongi was important to you.

As he approaches the couch, hand reaching out for his backpack next to you, you hold him by the wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t do that to me again.” You stare at how beautiful his hand looks in yours, like its meant to be. “The last three weeks were……difficult.”

“You think 21 days of not fucking you were easy for me?” He scoffs. “The regular 5 days itself are ridiculously hard.”

“Difficult because I was worried, not because I was horny.” You laugh as Yoongi sinks into the couch next to you, rolling his head over, giving you his gummy smile.

This was the reason.

That’s when you finally, finally realize.

You realize that you laughed after almost 3 weeks now. After days of being upset and angry and irritable, just one night with Min Yoongi and you were normal again.

You were laughing ever since things cleared between the both of you.

You were laughing ever since you realized he was okay.

You were laughing because he was laughing.

You were laughing because of Min Yoongi.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I’m sorry though, I really am.” He looks away because he’s ashamed and you are relieved he can’t see the conflict you are going through. “I thought I’ll figure it all out and then talk to you about it but….I should have said something.”

You gulp air in the silence, not paying attention to his sincere apology, your realization evoking hundreds of thoughts in you head, the most important one being-

“What happens to us now?” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“My brother doesn’t need tutoring anymore, we can’t exactly…” This was the part of the night you were dreading, the part that decides it all. “How will we keep this going?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Yoongi nods slowly. His words, calm down your racing heart. “If you don’t want it to end then…..”

“Of course I don’t.” You answer certainly.

“Then we’ll find a way, I’m sure we can.” He then slowly smiles smugly, as though he realized something. “Maybe I can get my agent to find us a new house like this every week.”

You raise your eyebrow, letting out a laugh once again but slowly nod your head. “So we are going to continue breaking into houses like this?”

“It could be our thing.” He grins.

Our.

“Or would you rather the hospital instead? Like you suggested?”

It takes you a moment but when you remember it, you laugh. “Oh god, you heard that.”

“Mhmm.” Yoongi nods, “It made me think about doing it in my workplace.”

Not when all I could think of was having you bent over that counter with your panties around your ankles.

“Someday, when I have a place of my own, maybe after closing hours.” He smirks and you immediately find yourself picturing it already.

“Speaking of the bar,” You remember that man as you turn toward Yoongi, sitting sideways. “There was a bartender there who knew my name.”

“Who knew your name?” Yoongi frowns before realizing, “Hoseok?”

“I think that’s what his name tag read?”

“Probably him, I can’t think of anyone else who knows.”

“You told him about us?” Your eyes widen.

“What? No,” He adds slowly. “He saw your name flashing on my phone screen a couple of times.”

“Oh.” The panic ebbs a little. “Oh so you saved my contact as Y/n?”

“Yeah.” He nods like it was obvious before squinting at you. “Why? What did you save mine as?”

The Agreement.

“MYG” You lie confidently.

Why did you lie? Because you thought is might hurt his feelings? Why did that matter? You know why.

“Though…..” He speaks, still thinking. “Would that be such a bad idea? Telling people about us?”

You nervously laugh. "W-Why did you think of that all of a sudden?”

Why Yoongi?

“You were quite terrified when you thought I told Hoseok about us.”

“No I mean…..” You swallow not knowing what to say. “You said so yourself, we don’t mean enough to each other to share so much.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“What will we even tell people? What are we Yoongi?” You smile sadly. “We are just an agreement. Something that started with two rules and that will end with one sentence.”

Say I’m wrong Yoongi. Say we could be more.

“You’re right, We are just an agreement. ” He nods. “What would we even tell people?”

You : That I am falling for this man. Yoongi : That I’ve long fallen for this woman.

But both things were left unsaid, only a strange silence in the space between you two, sad smiles exchanged in the place of those feelings.

#yoongi smut #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btsguild #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #unfamiliar #jiminwreckedme

248 notes · View notes

fromthefishbowl · 3 years

Text

10 italian songs that are terribly horny

Kind of a sequel of this post I wrote about the three Italian songs every Italian knows without fail, here comes another in the same vein and, as you might guess from the title of the post, they all are horny.

Because there’s absolutely no need to title your fic about Nicky losing his virginity after a Hozier song, when the Italian music scene of the 1970s has already blessed us with Cristiano Malgioglio!

Beware that this list features: threesomes, implied choking, implied masturbation, lengthy descriptions of dicks, and a whole lot of “dying”.

So, if you’re new to the Italian music scene, I bet you now have two questions: who is Malgioglio, and why is that “dying” in between quotes?

Cristiano Malgioglio is an Italian songwriter who has been working in the music industry since the early Seventies. Now known mostly for his flamboyant style and white strand of hair in his otherwise completely black head, he was a close friend of Fabrizio de Andrè, who was actually the one who introduced him to the music world. He has written a lot of songs that are LGBT+ themed and has always been very open about his sexuality, to the point that he has never even felt the need of coming-out. Out of the ten songs here presented, he has written three of them, and one of them is about one of his boyfriends.

As the censorship didn’t allow for song lyrics to be too explicit, songwriters and singers had found a way around it: rather than saying “coming” or “orgasming”, they would go with “dying”, which was a lot more elegant and could be inserted in literally every song without the censors being able to complain. And, trust me, there’s a lot of dying.

Here is the list, from the least horny to the most horny.

Chi Non Lavora (1970), by Adriano Celentano

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Commonly called Autunno Caldo (Hot Autumn), the workers strike that begun in 1969 and dragged itself into the August 1970 greatly influenced this piece (but for all the wrong reasons). Workers were demanding safer working conditions, which had been completely ignored up until that point. As the days went on and the more people joined the protests, the police got more and more violent, to the point that they had begun shooting people on sight. This caused a huge uproar from the protestors, and when the voice that people had been shot and harmed by the law enforcement, even more workers and even students joined the fight. Through a year of strikes, they forced the Italian government to create a new set of laws that would protect both workers and students.

The song mocks this movement: the singer complains about the fact that, since he is on a strike two days out of three, he cannot give his wife enough money and therefore she’s going on a strike too and won’t have sex with him. Basically this song is nothing but the woes of a privileged, extremely wealthy man who thinks that people protesting for the rights of a safe work environment is inopportune and stupid.

The only reason why I included this song is because “Chi non lavora non fa l’amore” (Those who don’t work don’t make love) is still very much used to this day. If you want a piece of media that actually explores the protests and the work environment of the time, I suggest watching La Classe Operaia va in Paradiso (The Working Class goes to Heaven), a movie from 1971.

10 Ragazze per Me (1969), by Lucio Battisti

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Lucio Battisti is a national treasure and if I’ll ever do more of these, he’s surely going to end up in more of them. Whereas De Andrè would write more traditional music and focus on the lyrics, Battisti’s music was a lot more danceable and his lyrics a lot lighter, usually focusing on loneliness and heartbreaks rather than social issues.

In this song, the protagonist is bragging about how he wants ten girls for himself, all for different reasons (one because she knows how to dance, the other because she’s a virgin, that other one because she has been with everybody but him). It is soon revealed, however, that the only reason why he’s doing it is because he’s still thinking about a very specific girl who broke his heart.

Remembering the note above, peep that “And red lips to die upon”.

Gelato al Cioccolato (1979), by Pupo

Link to lyrics and translation here.

First song written by Cristiano Malgioglio and also the one about his ex! And yes, it was sung by another man, but... oh, well. The lyrics are the same.

I feel like the only thing I need to say, about this song, is to quote it directly: “Chocolate ice cream, sweet and a little salty”. And that’s it, because the subtext is right there and it’s impossible to miss what it implies.

What I think should be added is the fact that the singer had absolutely no idea of what the song was about. Like none. It was only in 2007 that Malgioglio told him that he had been inspired to write it after spending a torrid summer in Tunisia, where he had gotten a boyfriend with whom he’d often get ice cream.

Carlo Martello Ritorna dalla Battaglia di Poitiers (1967), by Fabrizio de Andrè

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Translating this song absolutely murdered me: Paolo Villaggio, one of De Andrè’s best friends and an extremely important figure in Italian entertainment history, wrote it to play over Middle Ages sounding music, so the words chosen and the way sentences are structured are reminiscing of that time, and it was incredibly hard to find English words that matched.

This said, it’s possibly one of De Andrè’s most light-hearted songs (probably because he and Villaggio wrote it while their wives were giving birth to their sons), even if it does mention social issues.

King Charles Martel comes home from Poitiers but has lost the key to his wife’s chastity cage, so he doesn’t even go home before looking for another girl that can quench his thirst. He sees a beautiful maiden taking a bath and, seduced, convinces her to have sex with him. It is only when he has finished that she reveals that she’s actually a prostitute and now he has to pay her, but he runs away before doing so (but still after having complained about the rising prices).

The lyrics of this song were censored and fought against by the censorship so much that, even to this day, records with the uncensored version are extremely difficult to find.

Una Carezza in un Pugno (1968), by Adriano Celentano

Lyrics and translation here.

Yes, another Celentano song. I don’t like him either, it’s just that we cannot get rid of him for some reason.

Anyways, here we begin to get into hotter waters, as this song is about a man asking his girlfriend to think of him while she masturbates. Of course, since he cannot be left out of the question, he will think of her while he jerks off too.

Basically, unlike what a first read might make you think, the “fist” he makes while thinking of her is not because he wants to beat her up.

Il Triangolo (1978), by Renato Zero

Lyrics and translation here.

Renato Zero is another extremely flamboyant personality of the Italian music scene, and “Il Triangolo” is one of the songs of his that are best known.

As the title may suggest, this song is about a threesome. The protagonist goes on a date with their boyfriend and finds out that he has brought a second man, with the intention of convincing said protagonist to have a threesome. Although at first they need a little convincing, the protagonist then agrees to it and finds out they enjoy it a lot, to the point of coming to the conclusion that “Geometry is not a crime”!

Kobra (1980), by Donatella Rettore

Lyrics and translation here.

This song is about dicks, there’s no way around it and there’s nothing else to say. The singer sees a certain man and thinks about his dick, getting wet and fantasizing about the many things she could do with said dick. That’s it.

Pensiero Stupendo (1978), by Patty Pravo

Lyrics and translations here.

Second threesome song!

Unlike “Il Triangolo”, this song is a lot more subtle. It’s clear what the singer is talking about, but the lyrics are not as on the nose and leave more to the audience to feel it, rather than hearing it through words.

The song begins with the three people part of the threesome that are already doing it, and are still doing it by the time the song ends. It’s not about the act in and on itself, but more about the sensations it brings.

Ancora ancora ancora (1978), by Mina

Lyrics and translation here.

Second song written by Malgioglio!

Mina is probably one of the best known Italian singers, as her voice is said to be one of the best in recorded history and has an impressive rage of three octaves, so it really says something, the fact that this piece is so difficult that even her voice broke while holding a note (in an incredible way that only gives it character, but still).

The lyrics play with the fact that in Italian the word “ancora” can be translated and understood as “still”, “again”, and “more”. I couldn’t really give it justice in the translation, but it’s as if she was saying “Your hands still”, “Your hands again”, and “More of your hands” at the same time, and this kind of logic is repeated for every “ancora” she sings.

Even if the lyrics are suggestive, what was censored in this case was the video (the one linked with the song), as the close shots of the singer’s face, and especially of her mouth, were considered to be too sensual to be freely aired.

L’importante è Finire (1975), by Mina

Lyrics and translation here.

Third and last piece written by Malgioglio!

The story behind this song is a little nebulous, but I have read that apparently Malgioglio wrote it for Dori Ghezzi, De Andrè’s wife, but that that project never came to life and, in the meantime, he had managed to meet Mina, and had tried to get her to sing it. But... not sure if this story is directly related to the song in question or not.

Anyways, even for this piece it’s impossible to escape it’s meaning, to the point that, even if it didn’t contain any forbidden words, it was censored anyways for weeks, forbidding radios to air it and Mina to sing it on TV. However, people were so eager to listen to it that it still managed to climb the charts and was, eventually, allowed on air.

#italian sources #italian songs #sources for tog writers

22 notes · View notes

star-light-imagines · 4 years

Note

Hey, can I request some headcannons of Dabi, Zuko, and Sesshomaru with a s/o that like cutesy things and bright colours. Pretty much the opposite of them. Thank you.

Dabi, Zuko, Sesshomaru Headcanons

Anime/Manga: BNHA, ATLA, Inuyasha

Warnings: None

Enjoy this cutesy goodness! 💕

——————————————————————————-

Dabi didn’t think he would fall for you. He thought you were to good and pure for him. he would watch as you got excited over the littlest things, how you would bring color back into his life. Even though you are the complete opposite of him he didn’t mind, he would do anything for you because one of his main priorities is keeping that smile he loves so much on your face.

“Dabi! Look I learned how to make flower crowns! - and that’s not all, I made us matching ones!” You say happily while storming into his room.

“You expect me to wear that don’t you.” He says with a smirk

“Well I did make it especially for you.” You say while flashing a smile at him. He knew he couldn’t say no once you smiled at him the way you do, then again when was he ever able to say no to you. Dabi took a flower crown from your hand and put in on his head and smiled down at you.

“I hope you realize I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

“You always make me feel so special.”

-Later that day-

“Is that a flower crown?!” Himiko asked while trying to suppress a laugh.

“Say one more word and I’ll burn you.”

He is usually stressed out due to his work with the League of Villians, during these times he likes to be around you even more. You are his light in the dark that always seems to relax him. You fill his life with love he never knew he needed even if you can be childish at times and want to do things he isn’t interested in.

“Hi honey bun! I know you had a hard day so I rented some Disney movies and set up these fairy lights for us.” You say with a smile while he walks into the room.

“That’s good.. but why is there stuffed animals everywhere?”

“Whenever I watched Disney movies growing up I would watch it with my stuffed animals and I’m not going to break the tradition now.” You say with a giggle.

Dabi only really laughs around you. You are the only person to make him laugh until his stomach hurts and most of the time you don’t even try to make him laugh when it happens. However other times you do because you miss the sound of it.

“Dabi... hugs?” You say while looking at him form the bed as he gets dressed for work.

“Come over here then.”

You walk over to him and start to put your arms around him but at the last minute to tickle him and he laughs before finally being able to capture your hands in his.

“What was that for princess?”

“You always look sad before you leave for work.. I wanted to make you smile this time.”

Dabi is actually pretty good at dates. He knows what you like and what would make you happiest just based on what you say around him. He makes it his priority to plan all the dates even if you two can’t go on them often. However even if he doesn’t let you plan the dates you still try to do things for him, like bake his favorite desserts or write him love letters.

“Where are we going today?” You ask happily while you two walk across a bridge.

“It’s a surprise.”

Dabi stops walking and you look around, a field of sunflowers is right in front of you and your heart skips a beat.

“It’s beautiful!” You say happily before running into the field.

Dabi looks at you as you run through the field laughing and smelling the flowers. “Yes, you are beautiful.”

He’s protective of you and wouldn’t like to see you hurt. He would do anything you need from him while your hurt or sick, and would even do more than you asked of him just because he wants you back to being happy and bubbly.

“Dabi you didn’t need to get all that medicine, it’s just a cold.” You say with a small smile.

“Stop complaining and let me take care of you.”

King Zuko likes having you around even though you two don’t have much in common. He likes getting to learn new things about you and spending time with you whenever he can.

“Y/N you told me last time how much you like being outside, so I arranged for us to take a stroll through the city today.” Zuko says before taking your hand in his.

“Really?! Thank you. There’s so much I want to do with you while we are there, like share ice cream together or play some games at the carnival in town.”

“Don’t rush, we have a lifetime together, we will fill it with all the things you can ever imagine.”

He is often stressed out with ruling over the Fire Nation and repairing the destruction that happened before his reign. You noticed this and try to do things for him that would help make him more relaxed, such as helping him with his paperwork or setting up moonlight picnics when he’s working late.

“Y/N not that I mind or anything, but why did you sign this form with a heart next to your name.” Zuko said walking into office where you were deligently helping him with his paperwork.

“It made it look more cute.”

“Princess, you are cute enough as it is.”

Zuko smiles and laughs but rarely and it has to be a good occasion. You always make it a mission to make him smile or laugh around you, whether it’s telling him puns or doing something cute for him like putting candles in line to form the words “I love you.”

“Katara he’s on his way! Thank you for helping me set this up!” You say before seeing her out the door.

“Of course! He’s going to love it Y/N.”

You finish throwing putting the roses in place before hiding so you can fully surprise him when he walks in. Zuko opens the door to be surrounded by rose petals and in the middle of the bedroom floor candles spell out I love you. He can’t help but smile before tears start to tickle his eyes.

You pop out from behind a chair and say “surprise! I wanted to do something special for you today!”

“I can’t put into words how much I love you Y/N.” Zuko says while pulling you into his arms.

Zuko doesn’t have much time to plan dates, every now and then he will plan elaborate and fancy ones fit for a queen or more lay backed ones that are usually last minute when his schedule clears unexpectedly. You are the one that plans any dates, you plan them for either things around the castle or trips where you both can get away for awhile.

“Zuko, here’s your bag. The boat is here, let’s go.” You say while taking his hand and start walking down the halls.

“What? Where are we going?”

“We are going to the beach for the weekend. I already had your advisors reschedule anything you had to do this weekend.” You say while looking back at him with a smile.

“How did I get so lucky to find you.” He says happily before picking you up and carrying you in his arms.

He’s protective over you and wants to make sure he can give you the best in life. He wants to be the best guy he can for you and give you everything you deserve. If you are sick? Best healers will be sent to the kingdom, if you are sad? Be prepared to be pampered with anything you want.

“I know you aren’t feeling well and even though it’s just the flu I brought you roses since they are your favorite flowers.”

“Zuko you brought like 100!” You say while laughing from the bed.

“I just wanted to make you laugh.” He says before getting in bed to cuddle with you.

Sesshomaru never fell in love with a human before, especially someone who loved life as much as you do. You taught him to slow down and enjoy moments and things he would have never thought about before. You made him see the the beauty in life that he didn’t realize was there.

“Sesshomaru, Rin and I were in the garden today and I saw these begonia’s and I thought they would look good in here.” You say while entering his office a placing a vase of flowers by the window.

“Won’t they just die in a couple of days?”

“Then I’ll replace them each time.”

He’ll never admit he actually loves the fact that every few days you come and replace the flowers and looks at them when ever he thinks of you.

Sesshomaru doesn’t show that he’s stressed out very often, but you can read him easily and like to do things to help him when he is stressed, like watching the stars together after he’s worked late nights or reading books from his ever growing library on calm afternoons.

“Y/N , Jaken told me to meet you out here tonight.” Sesshomaru said stoticly before sitting down next to you.

“Yep, the stars looked really beautiful tonight so I thought we could enjoy them.”

“It’s not the only that’s beautiful tonight.” He said while staring into your eyes.

Sesshomaru hates to smile or even laugh around you even though you two have become so close together. However sometimes you manage to make him smile when you least expect it and it usually ends with you being embarrassed.

“Y/N, wake up.” Sesshomaru said softly while waking you early in the morning. He had just gotten back from a trip he had to make across the land and it’s been about a week since you’ve seen him.

“Sesshomaru you’re home!” You say before jumping in his arms.

“Yes. Now what is that?” He said pointing to a doll you had made that looked like him.

“I got lonely while you were gone so-“ you said while blushing and he started to laugh at your expression leaving you speechless.

“Good thing theres no reason to be lonely now.”

Sesshomaru as much as he tries doesn’t have the time to plan dates effectively, so you always make the effort to plan them. However he will do things for you often to make sure you know he cares like giving you your favorite flowers or bringing you gifts he finds while he’s out of the kingdom.

“Sesshomaru, are you free tonight?” You say eagerly.

“Yes. Is there a reason you asked?”

“I found a hot spring near here and wanted to go with you.”

“Fine, be ready by 8 to go.” He said with a small smile that contrasted his stotic words.

Sesshomaru doesn’t want to see you sick or hurt ever. He gets stressed out because he knows if you are sick there’s nothing he can do other than try to make you get better and the fact that you are human and you could die any day kills him on the inside because he can’t imagine his life without you anymore.

“I don’t want anyone coming in this room until she is well. Also don’t let her walk around the castle while I’m not here and especially not outside-“ Sesshomaru dictates to his guards while you are sitting on the bed.

“Honey, I’m fine I don’t even feel sick and it’s just a cold.”

#my hero academia imagines #my hero academia headcanons #my hero academia x reader #dabi x reader #dabi headcanons #dabi imagines #dabi fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #zuko x reader #zuko headcanons #zuko imagines #sesshomaru x reader fanfic #sesshomaru x reader fanfiction #sesshomaru x reader #sesshomaru headcanons #sesshomaru imagines #sesshomaru fanfiction

595 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 3 years

Note

i don’t know if you’ve done this yet, or if you will, but ABM Daniel reacting to his girls getting their first period? -🙃

This one flowed out of me (lol accidental pun) so fast I’m actually surprised how easy it came to me. After brainstorming with T Anon for a bit first ofc haha. I’ve waited for this ask for a while so thank you!

Clementine

Tuesday, February 18, 2031

With Clementine, Daniel was blindsided. He hadn’t even thought about his girls eventually getting periods. Of course, he knew enough about them from Florence, but his daughters? It never grazed his mind. He figured they’d just stay young forever, right?

Clementine was the first of her sisters to get her period and she was young (twelve years old to be exact) and thus had no clue what was going on when she went to the bathroom at school and found red in her underwear. Now, Clementine wasn’t a stupid child and she certainly wasn’t shy but when it came to her private body parts that she really had no clue about – she was completely frightened. She went to Florence first; her mother, her comfort, and a fellow woman, sitting in the office at school claiming to have a terrible stomach-ache and needed to call home.

Usually the girls called Daniel to get them out of school because they liked having any excuse to get him out of work to see him during the week but when Florence herself had a phone call from the school; she was worried all in herself too.

Clementine held the school phone to her ear with her hand over the speaker so the secretary couldn’t hear her conversation, “Mama.”

“Hey, Clemmy girl. What’s wrong?” Florence asked softly through the line.

“I…” Clementine glanced over at the secretary and she slowly turned her back to the older woman for some sort of privacy, “Can you come get me?”

“You want me to come get you? Why? What happened?”

“I’m hurt…I’m bleeding.”

“Okay, baby, I’m on my way. Where are you bleeding? Did you hurt yourself at recess?”

Clementine worked up all her courage in her little twelve-year-old body. “In my underwear.”

Florence, on the other end of the line, literally stopped gathered her purse for a beat and her eyes went wide, “Oh. Okay. You’re not hurt, baby. I’m gonna come get you right now and we’re gonna have some girl talk, alright?”

“Yes, please.” Clementine sniffled.

“Sit tight, darling girl. I’m on my way.”

Florence and Clementine spent the remainder of the afternoon together on the floor of the master bathroom in their apartment and that’s right where Daniel found them when he got home from work. All he got was a text from Florence asking him to come home early so he could pick up Penelope and Lucy from school and he had no idea why.

He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom, guitar case still in hand and bag still over his shoulder from work, staring wide eyed at his wife and eldest daughter sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes of pads and tampons and pamphlets and sharing a tub of ice cream with two spoons. No one spoke for a moment. Clementine didn’t dare look at her father. Daniel met his wife’s gaze.

“Hey, baby.” Florence spoke gently. “Give us a minute and we’ll be right out.”

Daniel nodded, taking a hesitant step back before walking out of the bathroom. He set his guitar and his bag by the desk and leaned against the wall with a shaky exhale like he had just witnessed a crime.

After a few moments, Clementine and Florence came out of the ensuite together, the twelve-year-old hiding the box of pads behind her back like it was a sin for her father to see them.

Daniel didn’t know what to say.

“We got our first monthly visitor of many, didn’t we, Clemmy?” Florence said, petting her hand lovingly over her daughter’s hair.

Clementine nodded lightly.

Daniel took a shuttering inhale like it was devastating news.

His obvious discomfort made Clementine pout, dropping her shameful gaze to the floor, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

That snapped him back down fast, instantly standing in front of his daughter and taking her face in his hands to get her to look at him, “There is nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“You look embarrassed. And it’s yucky. So…” Clementine shrugged.

“Oh, gosh, angel, no.” Daniel tisked. “It’s not yucky. It’s life. And I’m not embarrassed and I’m not uncomfortable or anything like that…I’m just…”

He looked over to Florence as if she would help him figure out his internal feelings.

Daniel sighed, turning back to his daughter, “I’m just…surprised. You’re my sweet baby girl and now you’re almost a woman. I just don’t want you growing up anymore.”

“A woman?” Clementine’s eyes went wide, nearly shining with possibility at that statement.

“Yeah. Your first step to becoming a woman is getting your period.”

“What’s the next step?” Clementine looked between her parents. “Can I do that one now too?”

“No, no, no.” Daniel said quickly. “No rushing this.”

Clementine nodded and he leaned down to press a kiss to her head and she wrapped her arms around his middle for a quick hug. Daniel scrunched his eyes closed as he held his daughter for a moment as if trying to hold on to her last bit of childhood, tears welling in his eyes at simply the thought of it all. But then Clementine was rushing down the hallway with her box of pads and Daniel was sighing through his forming tears, taking his wife into a soft embrace next.

“I don’t want her growing up, Flora. This isn’t fair.” Daniel breathed, his voice wavering.

“I know.” Florence sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

A silent tear fell down Daniel’s cheek but he wiped it away quickly, just as Clementine shouted from down the hallway, “Penelope! I’m a woman now!”

Penelope

Monday, November 15, 2032

With Penelope, Daniel was half asleep. It was 4am when Penelope woke up with a sore stomach and she slunk out of bed to the bathroom, moving quietly to not wake her sister. She went to do her business but the spot of deep red in her underwear startled her more awake than she already was. Now Clementine was quite vocal about her period, so Penelope knew what it was, but it didn’t mean she was prepared already. At only twelve-and-a-half, Penelope didn’t feel ready to be a woman yet and this little spot on the fabric of her underwear felt like the end of the world. She pulled her pyjamas back up, washed her hands, grabbed her favourite stuffed puppy from her bed, and patted quietly down the hallway to the master bedroom.

It was dark in the room with the curtains pulled closed, but Penelope rushed around to the far side of the king size bed like it was second nature. She climbed up onto the bed and slunk under the warm sheets, curling up beside Daniel who was still fast asleep. Habitually, he stirred slightly and draped his arm around his daughter, pulling her closer and pressed a kiss to her head.

“Daddy.” Penelope whispered, her trembling voice making his eyes open in concern.

Daniel looked down at her and pet his hand over her hair, “What’s wrong, bug?”

Penelope only sniffled and held him tighter, shutting her eyes and clinging onto him with the material of his shirt bunched up in her fist as if she was never going to let him go. Daniel was never one to force his daughters to speak to him so he stayed quiet and just held her close until she wanted to share whatever was on her mind. He figured it was just a nightmare.

To Penelope, it really was.

“Daddy, I don’t wanna grow up.” Penelope finally mumbled.

“You don’t have to, honey.” Daniel assured her tiredly, his eyes still closed as he was still half asleep. “Not yet.”

“Yes, I do.” Penelope whimpered. Her small sob had Daniel’s eyes opening again and he reached over her to turn on the bedside light. Father and daughter blinked through the sudden brightness and he stayed propped up on his side to look at her, seeing the tears brimming in her blue eyes.

“Talk to me, bug.” Daniel whispered as she curled into his chest to cry into his shirt and the plush puppy she held clutched in her hand. He ran his fingers through her tangled brown hair, petting it gently to try and help calm her.

“I-I think I g-got my…” Penelope didn’t even want to say it.

She didn’t need to; Daniel knew.

“Okay, bug.” Daniel sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she clung onto him. “Let’s get you up.”

Penelope shifted out of the bed and Daniel followed her, leading her into the ensuite and turned the light on for them. She held her stuffed puppy in her hands, silent tears trickling down her cheeks as she stood in the middle of the bathroom, watching Daniel crouch down in front of the cupboard under the sink.

“Make it stop, Daddy.” Penelope sniffled.

When Daniel looked over at her, his heart nearly broke. She was crying and scared and he could see the small quarter size spot of red staining her light blue pyjama pants. He only shifted to sit on the ground and held out his arms for her to run into, “Come here, bug.”

Penelope curled up on his lap – a sobbing, shaking mess – and her tears dripped onto his shirt as she clung onto him.

“Nothing to cry about, baby, I promise.” Daniel assured her softly, petting her messy brown hair back from her face and he pressed a loving kiss to her head. He took a deep breath before continuing, determined to do this himself, “Did Mommy or Clem or school ever tell you about periods?”

“Clemmy just said when you get it you’re a woman and that she’s one.”

“Well it’s not like you’re suddenly an adult or anything. You can certainly be a kid for as long as you feel like.” Daniel said. “Just means your body is starting to grow up and you’ll have your period every month now.”

“Every month?!” Penelope gaped at him. “I have to make myself bleed every month?”

“Your body does it itself, baby.” Daniel chuckled. “I don’t really know why. We can ask Mommy when she wakes up, okay?”

Penelope nodded, resting her head against his with her arm around his shoulders. The two of them stared into the open cupboard together and Daniel finally spotted the black box and reached in to take it out. Penelope watched him open the top and they stared down at the row of brightly wrapped puffy squares together for a moment. They both sighed in unison.

Daniel ruffled a hand through his hair, “These you put in your underwear and they keep the blood from going everywhere.”

“Daddy, should you be talking to me about this? Since you’re a boy?”

“Would you rather me get Mommy up?” Daniel asked quickly.

“No…I just...don’t want you to be uncomfy.”

“I’m just fine, Nell.” Daniel smiled, wiping her tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, okay?”

Penelope nodded and they both stood up from the floor. She took one of the pads from the box he held and he directed her to the small water-closet in the ensuite while he went to retrieve her some clean pyjamas from her dresser. He waited while she cleaned herself up in the privacy of the ensuite and she finally stepped out shyly, redressed.

“I feel yucky, Daddy.” Penelope whispered, walking with a bit of a waddle as she got used to the pad. “My tummy hurts.”

“I bet it does.” Daniel held out his arm and she curled into him with a pout. “Do you want to stay with us tonight?”

“Yes please.” Penelope mumbled.

So they returned to the bedroom – Florence still fast asleep on her side of the bed – and Daniel got Penelope tucked right in the middle before climbing in after her. She sniffled and turned to face him, cuddling her puppy to her chest and he pulled her close.

Daniel pressed his lips to her head in a soft kiss as she drifted back to sleep in his arms and he whispered a soft, “You’re always going to be my little girl.”

Lucy

Sunday, September 2, 2035

With Lucy, Daniel was not prepared. Well, not prepared for the ear-piercing scream that echoed through the entire apartment at 6 in the morning on a Sunday. It woke everyone – probably even the neighbours – and Daniel was flying out of bed at record speed, tripping over the sheets in his rush to tend to the screams of terror from his youngest. Florence was gone away on a weekend trip with a few girlfriends and Daniel was not ready to have to report an injury or a murder to his wife while she was gone away at the spa (honestly, by the sounds of Lucy’s scream it seriously sounded like she had been stabbed).

The young singer had lungs and held her piercing scream for an impressive amount of time until Daniel was nearly falling into her bedroom in a panic, finding his eleven-year-old sitting up in bed in a pool of blood. He froze in place as he stared at it, eyes wide, and looked up at her with enough shock that had Lucy screaming in fear again.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with me?!” she shrieked, tears brimming in her blue eyes as she glanced down at her pale pink pyjamas; the shorts dipped in deep red between her legs. “It’s not supposed to be this much!”

“It can. It can. Okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Daniel rushed right over to her and took her hands to help her out of bed.

Lucy cringed as she moved, bursting into tears as she got to her feet. Clementine and Penelope were in her doorway by then, both still half asleep but lured out of bed by all the screaming. The sight of their panicked father and blood-soaked little sister had them snapping awake.

“Oh my God, Lu-Lu.” Clementine gaped.

“I’m dying! Am I dying?!” Lucy sobbed as Daniel led her to her bathroom.

“I don’t think so! It’s just ridiculously heavy!” Clementine said.

Lucy cried harder as Daniel sat her on the side of the bathtub. Normally, the sisters would take over for the father, but Clementine and Penelope knew Daniel had it perfectly handled so they focused on stripping the bed to clean the sheets. Lucy was wailing, hot heavy tears pouring down her cheeks that Daniel couldn’t wipe away fast enough.

“You are just fine, Princess. You’re okay. I was just surprised, you’re not dying.” Daniel assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m gonna run you a bath and while you rinse off I’ll call Mum, alright?”

Lucy sniffled and nodded. She watched him start to run the bath, sitting perfectly still on the side of the tub as if she was afraid of moving. Daniel poured in a cap of lavender bubble bath for her and let the bubbles rise in the water.

He took his daughter’s tear streaked face in his hands, “You get in there and I’ll be right back with some clean pyjamas, okay?”

Lucy nodded and he left with a kiss to her head, closing the bathroom door behind him. The older girls had just put on the laundry after drenching the sheets in stain remover and returned to the bedroom.

“The mattress is definitely stained.” Clementine whispered to their father who was staring, concerned, at the double bed. She pulled open the curtains to bring some light into the room.

“Yeah, she’s gonna need a new one.” Daniel ran a tired hand through the back of his hair, thinking about what to do about it. He finally resorted to a flat, “I gotta call your mother. Can you girls start breakfast?”

“Sure.” Clementine agreed, and the girls slunk out of Lucy’s room and towards the kitchen.

Daniel rushed into the master ensuite and dug around under the sink for one of Florence’s extra boxes of pads and took it back to the bedroom down the hall. With an extra towel, a second set of pyjamas, and the box of pads in hand, Daniel knocked on the bathroom door.

Lucy’s soft voice came from the other side, “Yeah.”

“You decent?”

“Yeah.”

Daniel stepped inside the bathroom and set the clothes on the counter. Lucy was mostly submerged under the water until only her head was poking out of the bubbles and she was pouting up at him.

“Feeling okay, Princess?” Daniel asked.

“Sleepy.” Lucy shrugged.

“Don’t fall asleep in there, okay?”

Lucy nodded.

“You know what these are?” Daniel held out the box.

She nodded again.

“Okay.” he set it on the side of the counter.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I want Mommy.”

“I know. I’m gonna call her now.”

“M’kay.”

Daniel left his youngest to her privacy and returned to his own room to grab his phone and call his wife. Florence came home early from her weekend trip, making a beeline for Lucy’s room as soon as she got inside – only stopping to kiss her other two daughters and her frazzled husband on the way. They had to order a new mattress meaning Lucy had to sleep with her sisters while they waited for it to be shipped. However, Lucy – living up to her nickname – acted like a whole princess for that week, kicked back on the couch and being served by her family with whatever she wanted.

“Only for this week.” Florence told her multiple times. Lucy only smiled.

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #period stories #ayay #girl talk #les gooo

32 notes · View notes