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wreckedandpolemic · 2 months

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forgive me? - matty healy

prompt: lovers' quarrel

(mdni) and we continue ahead with valentine75!! ok pls do not look too closely at the argument here i suck so hard at angst i cant even half ass it as a setup for porn lol

warnings: oral (f receiving), hand stuff, idk there isn't huge amounts to this

The silence in your flat is deafening, stretching between you and Matty like a chasm, your anger welling so deeply at the bottom that you want to drown him in it.

“I’m sorry?” he ventures, and you whip around to face him. The sheepish grin he wears is, admittedly, distractingly adorable; usually, it’s enough to melt you at least a little, but this time you can barely see it through your blinding anger.

You scoff. “You’re sorry, huh? Oh, well, I guess that makes it totally fucking fine, then!” You kick off your shoes with more force than necessary, sending your expensive heels skittering across the floor. “Tonight was important to me, do you even realise that? Are you so up your own arse that you think everyone wants to be on the Matty show twenty-four seven, or do you just not care?” A sense of sick satisfaction spreads as he processes your words, expression crumbling for a split-second and reforming into a sharp sort of anger that warns that Matty isn’t going to make this easy for you.

Which suits you just fine. You’ve never been one for an easy win. Never been much for losing, either. You fold your arms as Matty rounds on you. “I’m up my own arse? That’s fuckin’ rich, comin’ from you, treatin’ me like a fuckin’ toddler all night!” He’s gesticulating wildly, accent thickening through his frustration, and it takes a tremendous amount of your self-control not to laugh. “Matty, don’t touch that. Matty, don’t talk to him. Matty, come back here.” He puts on an affectation of your voice and accent that’s equal parts insulting and hilarious, and you’re lucky he doesn’t pick up on your quiet snort of laughter. “You actually said come back here! Like I’m a damn dog!”

“Dog would’ve been better behaved, probably,” you mutter. “Wouldn’t have got belligerently drunk and accosted the press, either.” Matty steps closer, breathing hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips tantalisingly. Your traitorous eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and pink and wet and tempting, and it’s a mission to haul your mind back on track.

“I didn’t fucking ‘accost’ anyone. I told them to get the fucking cameras out of my face, ‘cos I wasn’t gonna give them a fuckin’ story at your fuckin’ event.” Matty defends, and, okay, the sentiment is there, but he had just made everything endlessly worse.

Groaning, you bury your head in your hands. “I told you. I fucking asked you, one time, just nod your head, smile, say you’re proud of me. Was that so fucking hard for you?” You hadn’t meant to admit that part. That it stung not to have his approval.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Matty snaps. “Of course I’m fucking proud of you. You’re a fucking star. Just wish you weren’t so embarrassed of me,” he adds, and whatever part of your anger that had crumbled at first sharpens in your chest again at his attempt to guilt-trip you.

He’s not being fair — of course you’re not embarrassed by him, but his behaviour fucking embarrassed you! “You told a fucking crowd of journalists that Jamie, who I have been on a fucking months-long press tour with, and I quote, ‘acts like a massive wanker.’ And he fucking heard you!”

Matty shrugs. “Well, he does. Don’t like the way he talks to you. Could’ve called him a rude cunt, too. Would’ve been even more true.” he mutters sullenly, scowling at the ground.

“God, Matty, you are so— mmph!” You’re cut off by him surging forward, crushing your lips together in a bruising kiss. You pull his lower lip into your mouth and bite down on it, iron spilling over your tongue as the skin tears beneath your teeth. After a long, indulgent moment, you force yourself to shove him away, gasping. “You never fucking listen! You can’t just kiss me ‘cause you don’t wanna hear it,” you snap, pushing down the heat that wells instinctively between your legs.

He’s flushed, breathing hard, unfairly gorgeous like this. “You look so pretty when you’re mad, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, the gentle touch making you shudder. He’s a master at this; resolving your arguments with doe-eyed pouts and wet, needy kisses.

Your resolve is crumbling. “Matty, don’t,” you warn feebly, lust spinning dizzily in your mind and swelling until your rational thoughts are dissolved. Matty grins, predatory — he has you pinned, and he knows it.

”My pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My little star. Forgive me?” His eyes are wide, faux-innocence shining down at you as your last thread of self-control breaks. It isn’t lost on you that he hasn’t actually apologised, but as his lips press against yours and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you can’t remember why you care.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he walks you to the sofa. Your stomach swoops as he pushes you down, desire thrumming in your veins. Every last thought falls out of your head as it knocks against the armrest, your back arching up towards him. “C’monn,” you whine, reaching out to him where he stands above you, his gaze hot as it roams eagerly across your skin.

Matty climbs over you, adjusting your legs so he can kneel between them, goosebumps breaking out where he slides a hand up your thigh, agonisingly close to where you need it. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he instructs, sliding your dress up your body until a puddle of satin pools around your waist, cool and slick against your heated skin. His warm fingers crook around your panties and he drags them down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. A soft moan escapes you as he rubs a slow circle into your clit, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “So much better than fighting, hm?” he teases, and a flash of annoyance cuts through the lust as you remember exactly how you got into this position.

”Don’t push it,” you hiss, raking a hand through his curls and tugging harshly. He whimpers deliciously against your skin, a pulse of heat spiking deep in your bones. “I’m still mad at you,” you warn, searching your rapidly-blurring mind for your long-foregone anger.

“So take it out on me,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your cunt, your body tingling under his gaze.

”What?” Your mind is already hazy, the sight of his head low between your thighs infinitely distracting, the promise of his tongue unfathomably tempting.

“I’m going to put my mouth on your sweet little pussy, and I’m going to listen to everything you have to say until you come. Call me names, if you want. Tell me everything I’ve ever done in my life that’s fucked you off, and I won’t say a word.” It’s such a Matty way of resolving an argument that you can’t find a response. “You get to yell at me and you get to get off. Pretty good deal if you ask me.” Matty’s smirk splashes you with a bucket of cold water, latent frustration blooming under your skin — a sudden need to slap the smugness off his face overtakes you.

You beckon him, waiting until his eyes are closed and his lips are parted, a gentle breath brushing against your mouth. He relaxes, expecting a kiss, expecting to be off the hook, and you crack a hand hard across his cheek with a grin. “God, that felt good,” you say as he recoils, rolling your eyes theatrically at his punched-out moan. “Such a fucking slut. Put your mouth to better use before I change my mind.” He shouldn’t make it so easy for you to take back the upper hand.

It’s almost comical how quickly his tongue is buried inside you, a thick pulse of heat sent kicking in your cunt. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you swallow a moan as you bury a hand in his curls. “Wish I could fuck your pretty mouth. Shut you up proper for once.” Matty moans into your cunt, the sound deliciously gratifying as it vibrates through you. “That’s your problem, you know,” you continue, the effort of keeping your voice level monumental against the waves of pleasure rising inside you. “You never fucking shut up. You’re— mmh, so fucking arrogant. You act like— ah!” His teeth scrape over your clit and you cry out, grinding your hips against his face as heat throbs sharply under your skin.

”Go on,” he says, grinning up at you with wet, slick lips. He hisses as you yank his curls harshly, dragging his mouth back to your cunt. He licks at you like a starving man, heat pooling in your belly, your limbs trembling and toes curling.

”You act like the fucking world revolves around you,” you continue, struggling to drag the words to the forefront of your soupy mind. “You’re so fucking— God, Matty, fuck!” you whimper, the rest of your sentence lost in the mind-numbing pleasure swirling through you. Matty isn’t playing fair, licking and sucking and kissing at you sweetly, your world blurring around him.

He pulls away and quirks an eyebrow at you, like he’s waiting for your surrender. As fucking if. You take a moment to catch your breath, fingers digging into the edge of the sofa to anchor yourself before he dips his head again, licking a broad stripe along your cunt that makes you whine pathetically at him. “You’re ridiculously pretentious,” you bite out, gasping as his tongue fucks into you in an obscene, glorious rhythm. Ecstasy coils in your limbs, your body heavy at the edge of oblivion. “Disrespectful. And you just. Don’t. Fucking. Listen.” You punctuate your last words rocking your hips against his face, your cunt fluttering around his tongue.

Matty presses wet kisses to your thighs, sweet and teasing as you whine. “Are you done?”

“Repeat it back to me,” you order as he licks his lips, framed prettily by the V of your legs. “So I know you were listening.”

“I’m irresponsible.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Arrogant. Inappropriate at the worst times.” He licks at your clit and you buck your hips against his face, fighting to hold at bay the flood of heat waiting to overwhelm you. “The people you work with think I’m white trash.”

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging hard enough that you feel him hiss in pain against your skin. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

You can sense that he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it at the last second. “I’m pretentious. Disrespectful,” he continues. “And I just.” He laps at your clit. “Don’t.” Heat floods your body as Matty slides two fingers into your sopping cunt and crooks them at an angle that has molten pleasure spilling over you. “Listen.” He sucks gently on your swollen clit, the pleasure enough to pull you over the edge, ecstasy coiling deliciously around your insides. You whimper, grinding down against his face as you come, your cunt fluttering around Matty’s tongue.

You sigh contentedly. “Good boy,” you murmur, savouring his shudder. “So good when your mouth’s full of my cunt. Like you so much better when you’re not talking.”

Matty looks up, eyes wide and face soaked with you. “Forgive me?” he asks, wearing the same sheepish grin that had failed to sway you before.

You sigh dramatically, the seeds of an idea taking shape in your mind. “Come here,” you say, a fond smile tugging at your lips. It’s a struggle to keep it from turning cruel as he takes the bait. “Silly boy.” Eagerly, Matty climbs over you, cupping your jaw and pressing his lips to yours, gently at first, turning hungry as you swallow down the taste of yourself. He moans into your mouth, grinding his clothed cock against your sensitive core. “Needy, are you?” you tease, a faint edge of danger lacing your tone. “Want me to get you off?” Glassy-eyed, he nods down at you, sweet and pleading. “Use your words.”

He swallows thickly, blinking hard. “Want you to make me cum,” Matty murmurs, casting his eyes down like he’s ashamed. You raise an eyebrow when his gaze lands back on your face, and he adds a reluctant, “Please.”

Sliding out from under him, you lead him into your bedroom, laughing derisively as he strips out of his jeans and boxers before the door even shuts. “God, you’re pathetic,” you scoff, smirking as his eager expression falters slightly with the realisation you haven’t let him off the hook.

“Mhmm,” Matty agrees, switching tack and plying you with sweet doe eyes.

“Get on the bed,” you order, kneeling in his lap when he obeys. His hands wander to the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs as he starts to lift it, and you swat him away. “Think you deserve to fuck me after the way you acted today?” You glare down at him, pulling at his hair to tip his head up towards you. After a long moment, his internal war clear on his face, Matty shakes his head mutely. “No. But you’re being good now, so…”

Matty inhales sharply when you wrap your hand around his cock, flushed and sticky with want. You pump him slowly, spreading precum over him, and he trembles with the effort of holding himself still, sweetly pliant under your hand. “Thank you,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

You lean down to press your lips against his, swallowing his needy, suppressed moans. “It’s okay, baby. Being so good. Can fuck my hand if you need to.” You’re being cruel, now, knowing how you’re going to leave him, but it’s sickly thrilling having him in your power like this.

Murmured thanks fall from his lips between sweet little whines, his hips bucking into your fist as his cock leaks over your skin. Languidly, you press your tongue into his mouth, trading long, sloppy kisses broken up by Matty’s pleasured moans.

Taking Matty apart under your skilled hands is easy, now; you’re practised in everything he likes. You dig your thumb into his slit, twist your wrist just so, swallow every sweet noise he makes. His body tenses, his groans deepening, turning rhythmic, signalling his orgasm. You let him chase his release up until the very last second, pulling away and smirking meanly down at him.

Confusion clouds across Matty’s face as he looks up at you, reeling from his ruined orgasm as if you’ve slapped him. You let him catch his breath before you take him in your hand again, working over him, pulling him to the edge again. “Do you have anything to say, baby?”

Matty’s mouth falls open, the struggle to pull any meaning from your words plain on his face. “Please?” he tries, face falling when you shake your head, a moan escaping him as you flick your thumb over his slit. “Thank you,” he mumbles thickly. “I love you.”

You cock your head, appraising him. “That’s nice. But not quite. Try to think a little bit harder, yeah? I know that’s tough when I’ve got you all stupid for me, but try,” you croon, tone sympathetic and deriding all at once.

Matty’s face scrunches in concentration. “‘M sorry!” he chokes out, whining when you press a kiss to the head of his cock.

“That’s it,” you breathe, kissing him softly in reward. “Good boy.” Arousal coils in your belly at the sight of him, breaking into a thoughtless mess under your hands. You stroke over his cock a few times more, watching his stomach tense and relax as his orgasm builds. Then you stop, letting him whine desperately into your mouth.

He hasn’t wised to your game, still hopeful through his lust-hazy gaze. “You embarrassed me today,” you chide. “Why?” You dip your head, lapping over the tip of his cock, letting him thrust into your mouth, a spit trail connecting your skin for a brief moment. You kiss the salt of him back into his mouth, devouring his desperate moans as you stroke him. “I asked you a question,” you murmur against his lips.

There’s an answer forming on his tongue, you can see, watching him struggle to swallow it down. You pull away, lifting your hand to lap the taste of him off your fingers, giving an exaggerated moan. Matty whimpers, desperate, hips rocking against nothing as you batter against his defences. A burst of pleasure licks up your spine when you drag your fingers through your still-soaked cunt. Matty’s answering moan as you wrap your wet fingers around his cock is nothing short of pathetic, low and thick with lust. Clicking your tongue disapprovingly, you repeat your question, the ensuing silence thick with the unsaid. You know the answer, but it’s no fun not to pry it out of him. “I was jealous, okay!” he gasps out.

He won’t meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Aw, I know,” you croon sympathetically. Your touches turn tender, coaxing. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to be jealous. Don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours, yeah?” you promise, lifting his head to deliver your words into his shadowed eyes.

“Mine,” he echoes faintly, rolling his hips up into your hand and whining. Your thighs clench at his possessive tone; you love being his, being the only one who gets to have him like this. “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum, fuck!” The last syllable crumbles into a sob as you pull away, ruining him for the final time. “‘M sorry, ‘M sorry, please let me cum,” he whimpers, so sweetly pathetic that you almost want to let him cum.

Almost. Matty’s chest heaves, struggling for breath and sanity as you climb off him, smoothing your dress down nonchalantly. Pouting down at him, you click your tongue condescendingly. “Poor baby. You don’t get to cum tonight, okay? How are you gonna learn a lesson if I give you what you want now?”

He gasps, chokes, twitching as he fights to stay still. “Please?” he murmurs, so quiet that you aren’t sure whether he’s addressing it to you or subconsciously voicing his need.

Either way, you shake your head at him with a shrug. “Get control of yourself and we can watch a movie, yeah?”

Matty gives a shuddering nod as you turn to leave, squaring your shoulders so you don’t look back at him.

After a few minutes, Matty slopes into the living room, dressed but still looking fucked-out, hair wild and eyes downcast. You rest your head in his lap when he comes to sit beside you, smiling blithely and uncaringly up at him.

“Are you still mad?” he ventures, petting your hair tentatively.

“Depends,” you answer, feeling his body tense at your words “Are you gonna pull that shit again?”

“No,” he replies without hesitation, shuddering at the thought of what you just put him through

“Then no,” you grin, and Matty relaxes under you. “But you still don’t get to cum,” you can’t resist adding.

He pouts down at you, but his eyes are shining with mischief, any lingering tension fully faded now. “Can I make you come again, then?”

Sitting up, you climb into his lap and kiss him for a long, luxurious moment, heat swelling between you as his tongue slides against yours. “Say please.”

#'fuck' count: approx. 35 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #valentine75

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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safe and sound (f.w.)

prompt: after getting caught in the rain and chased by death eater, you stumble upon a house and look for a safe haven inside. little did you know who would be waiting for you in that house.

pairings: fred weasley x fem! reader

warnings: running away, mentions of death, mentions of war, language, anxiety, sexual tension (of course), food, some classic longing stares, don’t worry it’s a fluffy ending

word count: 9.7k (its so long im sorry)

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @valwritesx

The engine of your car roared as rain slapped against the windshield, your chest heaving with fear, constantly checking your rear view mirror, pressing down on the gas as hard as you could. You whispered tiny prayers, hoping that you were going fast enough to outrun whoever was chasing you. Looking at the speedometer, you see that it slowly climbs to 85 miles an hour, then 90, then 95 as you search the dirt roads ahead of you for a clearing or any sign of life. “Please, please, please, please,” you whisper to yourself as you continue to speed through the English countryside, thunder rumbling behind you as the speedometer climbs and climbs.

With each flash of lightning you jump a little in your own skin, mistaking it for the flash from someone’s wand, casting a hex on you. But you remind yourself that you must be miles and miles away from them and that you were safe. For now at least.

You continue to scan your surroundings, not recognizing where you were, the rain blurring your view outside. Regardless, you continue to drive, straight down the road, until you reached some place that looked like it had life.

But your car had other plans. As you slammed your foot on the gas, there was a screeching sounds, and then a rumbling boom, before smoke started to appear from the front of the car. “Oh, come on! Not now!” you yell out in frustration, pushing your foot on the gas harder, hoping that the action would keep the car going. But much to your dismay, the car came to a simmering halt as you threw your head back with a groan. With the little life it had left, you pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park, even though that would change a thing. The car was dead.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to think of something. You were stranded in the middle of nowhere, with just your wand, a small bag of your belongings, and dead car with half a tank of petrol. “Fuck,” you curse slamming your hands down on the wheel.

Through the rain, you try to scan your surroundings again. The nearest town was still some ways away and you had no way of contacting anyone. Your best bet was to wait out here in the car until morning when the rain would hopefully stop and you could walk to the nearest town and get some help. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff, zipping up your jumper, folding your arms.

As you lean in the driver’s seat, you try not to focus on the events that had precipitated previously; the thought was far too terrifying for you. Instead, you focused on the raindrops that streamed down your car window, as you pit one raindrop against another, making them race down the glass.

But as you watch the raindrops fall, through the rain, in the distance, you can almost make out a small building. A house. Through the brush and the trees was a small home, the windows illuminated meaning there was a sign of life. “Thank Merlin,” you whisper to yourself as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

You flip up your hood, trying to protect yourself from the rain, but to no avail. When you step outside of the car door, you are saturated in an instant, the cold and unforgiving rain soaking your jeans and jumper, dampening your hair through your hood. “Shit,” you huff as you start to take up a light jog, hoping and praying that the company in the small house was welcoming.

---

“I need another bucket!” Ron calls out as he stands under another leak in the Burrow, holding a small mug up to catch the dripping water. Ginny runs to the kitchen and grabs another bucket under the sink before handing it off to Ron. He places it on the floor before scurrying off the previous leaks that seem to appear throughout the Burrow. “Gin, can you take care of the leak on the second floor?” Ron calls out to which Ginny replies an On it! before scurrying up the stairs.

Molly Weasley is scrambling throughout the house before plucking her band from her dressing robe, “Reparo!” she casts as the roof seems to mend itself. She casts it a few more times around the house with a frustrated sigh each time. “That should hold us over for a while now. But keep the buckets there in case the leak starts again,” she tells Ron with a kiss on the forehead.

“The attic seems to be fine!” George calls from the top of the stairs. “No water damage and no leaks inside. Can’t speak for the rest of the place,” he shrugs as he descends the stairs, Fred following not too far behind.

Molly sighs, “Well, that’s the best we can ask for right now. One of you go help your father in the shed. He says there’s a tarp in there that we can lay out in case the storm gets worse.” With a curt nod, Percy starts outside to help Arthur out in the shed. The rest of the Weasleys flop on the couch with a huff.

Storms like this always brought more bad than good. It did wonders for Molly’s garden, but as for the infrastructure of their house not so much. The Burrow was old and needed some renovations, but money was tight. Instead, simple fixes here and there did the trick during stormy weather.

Ginny helps her mother light more candles around the house before heading over to the fireplace to get a fire going to warm the house. Ron shivers a little before running up to his room to grab a jumper to keep him warm. Fred looks over at George, mischief in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. George looks at his brother before picking up on his wave length. A stormy day always made for the most interesting quidditch matches.

The twins rise from the couch, grabbing their coats before Molly interrupts, “And where do you two think you’re off to?”

Fred, without looking at his mother, speaks, “The weather is perfect for a quidditch match. Great practice. Reckon you’ll join, Gin?” Fred asks the youngest Weasley as she looks at him with excited eyes.

“None of you lot with be playing quidditch in this weather!” Molly exclaims with a firm tone and folded arms. Ginny looks at her mother with pleading eyes to which she brushes off. “The weather is wicked outside!”

George laughs, “Yeah, wicked for playing quidditch.” Fred joins in on the laughter, offering his twin a high five with his accepts.

“If you two disobey me, you’ll be in a wicked amount of trouble. Now put your coats down and help me start the fire. Fred, go fetch the old newspaper. George, get the wood from upstairs. We need to warm this place up before we all freeze to death,” she huffs as George and Fred reluctantly take off their coats with a groan. Yet they still obey their mother.

George looks over to his twin, “You shouldn’t have told her we were playing quidditch. You should have made up something.”

Fred scoffs, “And said what? We’re replanting the peonies?” George rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thought. Now go get the fire wood like you’re told,” he teases his twin, earning him a slap upside the head. “Wanker.”

George disappears upstairs as Fred goes into the kitchen and grabs the old newspapers from the dining room table. Page by page he rips them into small pieces, crumpling them up, creating a fire starter.

Suddenly, a great rumble of thunder comes from outside, startling the house Weasley family. They all quickly laugh it off with a shake of their heads. The storms were brutal in the summer months. But there it was again, another sound. But not quite thunder.

“Was that thunder?” Ron asks, crouched down by the fire place, helping George throw in the logs.

Fred shakes his head. “No,” he listens closely again before it sounds again. Four bangs on the front door. Fred looks to his brothers and sister and speaks, “I thought Harry and Hermione were coming next week?”

“They are,” Ron answers with a puzzled look on his face.

Again, four more bangs on the front door, but now followed by a, “Is anyone home?”

Everyone’s eyes are wide with confusion. They expected no visitors, especially during a storm. But this only peaked their interest as to who was at the Burrow’s door at this time of night during a summer storm. Without much hesitation, Fred walks to the front door and swings it open.

In front, there you were. Body and clothes completely soaked with rain, shivering from the cold, lips purple and teeth chattering as you clung onto your thing jumper. Your hair was matted down with rain as droplets cascaded down your face as you looked at the tall, ginger haired boy in front of you. If you weren’t freezing your ass off, you would have stared at the handsome boy longer. But too consumed with the cold, you speak, “I need h-help.” Your words are shaky from your clattering teeth.

Fred looks at you, completely enthralled with the being in front of him. How could someone look so divine when drenched in rain water? Your lips were pressed together and shivered in your lavender jumper that matched the color of your lips. Small droplets of water fell from your hair and onto your feet as you sniffled. The sight was oddly charming. He snapped out of his thoughts and called out, “Mum!! We’ve got company!!” With a small smile, he opened the door further and welcomed you into the house as you sighed. “Come on then.”

You let out a breathy “thank you” as you entered the house, which wasn’t much warmer than outside, but it was better than being in the freezing rain. You stand in the middle of the house, a shivering, wet mess as you feel all eyes on you. Fred instructs Ron to get the fire started as he looks over to you, “How long have you been in the rain?”

“Uh, not long. I was in my car and then it broke down and I saw your house, so I ran over. Maybe ten minutes,” you shrug as the house slowly descends into madness, trying to help you out.

“Ten minutes too long,” Fred huffs with a smile before looking over at his mother. “She’s been walking in the rain. She needs to get warm,” Fred tells Molly whose face is painted with worry even though she didn’t know who you were.

Molly rushes over to you and places her hands on your shoulders. “Oh, my dear! You’re frigid! Fred, start a kettle of tea! George, grab the quits from your room! Ron, is that fire ready?” she starts tossing orders out as her children comply, darting in all different directions. Molly guides you towards the living room where the fire was, placing you directly in front. “You poor thing. Where are you coming from?” she asks, rubbing your arms. “Here, give me that saturated jumper. Ginny, go fetch one of your jumpers to give...what’s your name, dear?”

You smile at the sweet woman and speak, “(Y/N).”

Molly smiles, “(Y/N). Go fetch (Y/N) a jumper.” Ginny darts off to her room as you sit in front of the fire, the heat already radiating making you feel much better. “My name is Molly, dear. That’s Ginny who ran off, this is Ron, and in the kitchen are Fred and George. My husband, Arthur, and other son, Percy, are in the shed, but they should be in in any minute.”

You furrow your brows as you look at Molly and then around at your surroundings at the people around you. Red hair. Small house. Molly. Arthur. Many siblings. They must be the-

“(Y/N)?” a voice calls from the other room in the door frame.

You look over and there Percy stands, a familiar face with matted curly red hair, wet from the rain. “Percy! Hi!” you smile as Percy walks over to you with a small smile before giving you a light hug.

He laughs, “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Alyssa for the weekend?”

From behind you a voice speaks, “Wait, I’m confused. How do you two know each other?” Ron looks between you and Percy confused as to how you recognized each other.

Percy speaks for you, “(Y/N)’s family works in the ministry. (Y/N) works as one of the assistants. Her father has high rankings with the ministry.” You smile up at Percy. It was true. Your family was heavily involved with the ministry, specifically with the regulation and control of magical creatures. That’s why you never really ended up going to school. You were guaranteed a job when you were born. Sometimes being at the ministry 24/7 was boring, but when you met Percy, it was a change of pace. Someone close in age to you and a new face to talk to. The two of you became fast friends. “We’ve been co-workers for sometime now.”

You look up at Percy and sigh, “I was with Alyssa. But, um,” you gulp, heart racing at the memory. “Something happened.” Percy gives you an inquisitive look as you look around you, now all of the Weasley’s eyes interested in what you had to say. So much for some privacy. “Alyssa’s father...he...got himself mixed with some of the wrong people...” you trail off as Percy sighs. “Lucius Malfoy decided to pay us a visit and...he killed him. Alyssa and I and her mother and sisters made it out in time, but we got separated. She just yelled at me to drive and...” you start becoming overwhelmed with the images of what had happened and tears start trailing down your face as a small sob escapes your lips as you quickly cover it.

Percy places a hand on your shoulder and rubs your back with a sad smile. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as you pull yourself together with a deep breath. “You’re safe here. I promise that. Mum will take good care of you. We all will,” Percy gives you a small smile and for some reason, that makes you feel relaxed. Looking around at the people in the room, you feel comforted and safe. Something you needed after today.

Coming back was Ginny with a fresh jumper. She gave you a good look and said, “You know what? Just come up to my room actually. You can wear some of my clothes and get out of those wet ones, yeah?” she offers you a kind smile and her hand as you gladly accept, following her up to her room.

As you disappear up the stairs, Fred watches you with a small smile on his lips. Molly and Arthur occupy themselves with talk about where you would sleep for the night and how they would reconfigure sleeping arrangements. George and Ron start fighting about how the fire isn’t big enough. But Fred just can’t stop watching you go up and up and up the stairs.

He clears his throat and then speaks, “Perc...hey.” Percy walks over to his brother. “This (Y/N) girl...she didn’t go to Hogwarts...did she?” he asks.

Percy shakes his head, “No. She’s been studying under her father since she was born practically. She’s a great person. Really funny, really smart, and damn good at her job,” he explains to Fred, who clings onto every last word. Fred didn’t know what it was, but there was something about you that just drew him in. And he wanted to know every thing there was to know about you. Percy quickly recognizes the look in his brother’s eyes and says, “Don’t get any ideas, Fred. Come on, she’s my friend.”

Fred shrugs, “So. Does she have a partner?” Percy sighs. “Great. So she’s available,” he wiggles his eyebrows as Percy slaps his arm. “I’m not gonna make a move on her, Percy! Godric...not yet at least.” But before Percy can slap him again, Fred is running away in the other room to join his twin and younger brother on the floor.

Practically jumping on George, Fred smothers his brother as George groans, “Would you get off of me, git?” Fred laughs before taking a seat next to him. “What’s got you so excited?” George looks at his twin before instantly realizing the change in his mood. “Good Godric, really? You fancy the girl? Merlin, Fred, she just got here and she’s clearly in distress over what she saw today!” George whisper yells at Fred who is too happy to care about what his brother scolds him over.

He simply speaks, “I don’t plan on jumping on the girl tonight, George. I just am looking to get to know her better.”

“Before you jump on her,” Ron speaks, making George laugh as Fred slaps his younger brother upside the head.

“Hey! Who said I was doing to do any of that!” he defends himself. “I think she’s beautiful. I don’t know. There’s something about her that I...just can’t put my finger on. I don’t know. I just wanna get to know her better. Alright? Can you live with that?” Fred speaks to his brothers as they look at each other knowingly.

But before Fred can defend himself further, you are back in the room, changed into fresh clothes from Ginny. You pull the jumper down more, covering your midriff as you sit back down on the floor in front of the fire with Ginny, you and her making light conversation. And the while, Fred steals little glances here and there.

“So, you didn’t go to Hogwarts, but you learned under your father?” Ginny asks as you nod happily.

There was a part of you that felt like you really missed out on an experience. Not attending Hogwarts was a choice that your parents made without your input and you wished every day that you had spoken up and told them that you wanted to go. But instead, they argued that learning directly under your father would be a better education and whatever you didn’t learn, you could easily pick up with some help from your father, your mother, or any of their friends in the ministry. Other than that, you had a relatively happy childhood, working with magical creatures daily, running around the different departments with other children you could find. Life was good, until trouble started to appear in spurts.

You reply, “Yeah. When he steps down from his position, I’ll be there to take it over. It’s what I’ve been working towards my whole life.” When you spoke the sentence, it stung. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Your future was set out for you since the day you were born.

Ginny smiles, “That’s really cool though. You don’t need to work about OWLs or NEWTs or any exams. Sounds pretty sweet.” You give her a weak laugh. Pretty sweet.

Molly comes back in the room, a small cup of tea in her hands. “Black tea, cream, no sugar,” she coos. “Percy told me how you take it,” she winks as you smile and thank her graciously. “I’m glad to see that you’re in warm clothes now. For tonight, and I hope you don’t mind, you’ll spend the night in Fred and George’s room. George will spend the night in Ron’s room and Fred will sleep on the couch down here, so you’ll have some privacy,” Molly speaks with a smile.

You look around the room, “Oh! I can take the couch! Really! I don’t want to kick anyone out of their room!” you tell the group as they all give you small smiles.

“Nonsense!” Molly smiles. “A guest deserves to sleep on a proper bed. Besides this is just for tonight. Tomorrow morning, Arthur and Percy will get the extra mattress from the attic and bring it down into Ginny’s room.” You shake your head and profusely thank the twins for giving up their room and the both of them just smile while Fred drops his left eye into a wink, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You can stay here as long as you need, dear. We can find someone to come in and fix your car.”

But before you can protest, Fred speaks up, “Actually, no need to call someone, Mum. George and I fixed the flying Ford Anglia, I’m sure we can fix some muggle car.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about, we ne-”

Fred nudges George in the stomach, making him double over with an oof, as Fred smiles and continues, “We’ll have it repaired in no time.”

You look over at Fred with curious eyes and a small smile. There was something about him that just was so magnetic. His brown eyes, tufts of messy red hair, loose t-shirt that clung onto his arm muscles that flexed so gently underneath the green fabric. Just his smile was enough to have you captivated for eons. “Thanks,” you simply state with a smile and he nods. “Um,” you break away from his gaze. “I’ll, uh, get ready for bed then, I guess. It’s quite late.”

You rise from the floor and scurry up the stares, feeling eyes on you, and for some reason, you hoped that Fred was one of them.

-------

It was two in the morning and the whole house was dead asleep. Except for you. Each time you closed your eyes, you felt the feelings and panic from hours before. Your heart thumped in your chest as you toss and turned in your sleep, an unsettled feeling wrestling in your stomach.

Giving up, you sit straight up and huff, hearing the clock tick insistently on the wall, mocking you. You roll your eyes and swing your legs over the unfamiliar bed and rub your face. Standing up from the bed, you start to slug over to the door and down the stairs, trying to see if maybe a change of scenery would do you some good.

When you walk down the stairs, you are careful to be quiet, not to wake up Fred. But lucky for you, he was wide awake, sitting on the floor in front of the fire place that was mere glowing embers. Fred turns and looks at you, a small smile dancing on his lips when he sees you. “Didn’t think you would be up,” you smile at him before taking a seat next to him on the floor, him scooting over so you could enjoy the residual warmth from the fire.

Fred shrugs, “Couch isn’t super comfortable. The springs are digging into my back.”

You give him a sorry smile. “I’m sorry that I took your room for the night. I told you that I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. Not too late to take me up on my offer...” you give him a joking nudge, earning a light chuckle from one half of the Weasley twins.

“Very kind of you, but you take the room. I don’t mind sharing. Especially if it’s with a pretty girl,” he flirts as you feet heat rise to your cheeks, turning away from him so he couldn’t see your small smile. But Fred knows and that’s only earned him a proud feeling in his chest. “So,” he starts. “You’re friends with my dork brother, eh?”

You lightly laugh, “He’s not a dork. Percy has been a really great friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him.” Fred gives you a small smile. “Truly. He’s really been my best mate.”

Fred wiggles his brows, teasing you. “Best mates, eh?” He bumps his shoulder into you as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Percy and I are just friends, come on,” you give him a playful shove. Fred smiles and shakes his head as you feel suddenly confident, a flirtatious comment falling off of your lips. “If we were, do you think I’d be down here talking to his cute brother?”

The comment makes Fred look at you, at first with wide eyes which eventually fades into a little smirk with ruby red cheeks. He chuckles, “Touché.”

You and Fred sit next to the fire and continue to make conversation, talking about you, your life back home, and Fred and the joke shoppe. The more you talk to him the more you realize how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. Talking with Fred was like breathing; you didn’t need to think about it, it just happened so effortlessly. He made you laugh until you clutched your sides, doubled over in pain, which made his heart swell. Your laugh sounding like a beautiful melody of a familiar tune, something he could never grow tired of hearing.

“The shoppe really is a dream come true,” Fred smiles to himself as he watches the fire dwindle down. “It’s what George and I have always wanted our whole lives.” Watching Fred talk about the joke shoppe and seeing all the joy and passion behind his eyes was like watching fireworks. Captivating. The way he spoke about running his own business with his best mate and brother made a smile creep its way onto your face. “I can only imagine it’s the same way you feel about taking over your father’s position,” Fred looks to you with a hopeful smile as you gulp thickly.

You shrug, “Yeah. You can say that.” You wished you sounded more enthusiastic, but truth of the matter was you had no passion behind what you did. Sure, growing up you dreamed of taking over your father’s position and becoming head of the department. But as you grew up, you took up other interests and hobbies that outgrew your love of magical creatures.

Fred instantly noticed your change in tone and twisted his eyebrows together. “That’s not a very convincing answer,” he laughs as you lightly chuckle. “You don’t want to take over his position?”

With a sigh, you rub your hands over your face. “I do, but...I don’t?” you look at him, wrapping your arms around your knees, bringing them close to your chest. You turn towards Fred and start, “I mean, my whole future was planned out for me when I was born. First born takes over the position. I’m first born so everything has been etched in stone for me. I love my family and what they do and I’ve always been passionate about it...but somethings missing, you know? As I grew up, I took different interests and now...I don’t know if I want to be in that position. I don’t want to be a part of the ministry anymore.” The confession was a lot to dump onto Fred, but for some reason you felt like he would understand. That he would listen to you. “I’m sorry that was a lot to unload.”

“Don’t apologize,” Fred smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently, making your heart race at the simple touch. Fred turns to face you, knees brushing against each other as you nibble on the inside of your cheek. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you want to do with your life?”

A small smile appears on your face. “I want to own a book shoppe. I know it sounds dorky, but I want to own my own book store with every book in the world. Fantasy, mythology, history, science, maths, everything under the sun. I want people to come in and read and sit and learn new things,” you light up at the thought of having a place to call your own. “I regret every day not getting the ‘real school’ experience, but in a weird way, I think owning a book store would make up for it?” you lightly laugh as Fred stares at you with a dreamy smile on his face.

The way you spoke about books and people and learning was unlike anything he had ever seen. You completely lit up like a Christmas tree and Fred was smitten. “You want to know my opinion?” Fred asks as you nod. “I think...you should leave the ministry and open up your own bookstore,” he tells you as you lightly laugh. “I’m serious. You don’t have half the passion for the ministry like you do for the bookstore. This is your dream. You should follow it.”

“Okay, but opening a bookstore requires money and investors and actually getting books. I don’t have nearly enough,” you sigh as a mischievous smile appears on Fred’s face. “Uh oh. I don’t like that smile.”

Fred laughs, “It’s a good smile, don’t worry. What if...George and I were your first investors. I mean, the joke shoppe is booming and we have the money to invest in a small business.”

You start shaking your head. He was being overly generous for someone you just met today. “Oh, Fred, I couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s you and George’s money and-”

“And I want to use it where I see fit. And I think your business proposal is very promising,” Fred tells you with a small smirk as you sigh, heart fluttering at the way his face is illuminated by the embers of the fire place. “Sleep on it. I don’t need an answer right now. But you should think about it, (Y/N).”

You smile softly, playing with the cuffs of Ginny’s maroon jumper, heart thumping your chest. Slowly, you look up at Fred and his eyes are glued on yours, a soft smile on his pink lips. The two of you don’t say a word, just sat there, looking at one another, taking each other in as the fire crackles, the faint smell of burnt wood filling your senses. In this moment, Fred looked like someone you had known your whole life. Like you were supposed to be here, looking at him right now. You can feel his knee brush against you again, making the hairs on your arms stand up, goosebumps erupting along your skin as you inhale sharply.

Clearing your throat, you start to stand up. “I should probably get back to bed,” you interrupt the moment as Fred follows suit.

“Yeah, uh, you’re right. I gotta get up early anyway to start fixing your car,” Fred scratches the back of his neck as you make your way back to the stairs. “Goodnight, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.”

You stop on the third step and smile shyly at Fred. “Goodnight, Fred. Sweet dreams,” you repeat before walking up the stairs, a bright grin etched on your face.

----------

Two days have past since you arrived at the Weasleys. Morning comes quickly, day light streaming in through the window as you wake with a large stretch. You rub your eyes and look at the clock on the wall, the hands pointing to 10:13am. You had slept in later than expected, but maybe that’s what you needed. Slowly, you peel yourself from the bed and make your way downstairs, the hustle and bustle of the Weasley house in full swing. Ginny, Percy, and Ron are at the table, eating toast and eggs. “Look who decided to join the land of the living,” Percy teases as you smile with a groggy hey. “You hungry? Mum made enough eggs and toast to feed every fifth year at Hogwarts,” Percy laughs as you take a seat next to him, accepting a full plate of eggs, buttered toast, and a cup of tea the way you like it.

“Thank you, Molly,” you smile at the woman who places dirty dishes and pans in the sink as the magically begin to wash themselves.

She sends you a sweet smile and a wink, “Don’t mention it, dearest. Eat up. If you’re still hungry, there’s plenty more in the fridge.”

As you start to eat, Ginny and Ron start to talk about the plans for the day, talking of maybe playing a quidditch match in the yard, Ginny entertains the idea of taking a trip to Diagon Alley, Ron going back and forth if he should visit Hermione or not. Percy just states he’ll be doing work from his room as you roll your eyes, nudging him lightly at how studious he was. You scan the table and the living room to see no Fred or George. They couldn’t be sleeping still, Fred wasn’t on the couch and Ron’s room was empty when you passed it. “Where are the twins?” you ask Percy as you bite into your toast.

“Outside fixing your car. Fred’s been working on it since Mum woke up. And she gets up early,” Percy emphasizes as you laugh. “George should be out there too or he’s in the shed looking for spare parts,” Percy sips his black coffee.

You nod and finish munching on your toast and eggs before rising from the table, placing your dish in the sink, and making your way outside to see what was going on.

As you step outside, the warm sun engulfs you as you realize just how hot it was. Not the weather for Ginny’s heavy jumper that you slept in. But before you can complain about the heat, your eyes stumble on a sight that made you feel weak in the knees.

You gulp thickly as you mouth run dry as the desert. Fred is leaning over the hood of your car, arms flexed as he tightens knobs on the engine, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Surrendering to the August heat, Fred pulls his shirt over his head to reveal his toned back muscles that glisten with summer sweat. He runs his grease covered hands through his hair, sweeping it back, his biceps flexing before he returns to his position covering over the car, grunting as he uses his strength to tighten and fix the bolts. His pants hang low on his waist as the tops of his boxers peak out from the material, making you inhale deeply. It felt so wrong to look at him, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the toned man in front of you.

Finally snapping yourself out of your trance, you clear your throat, making your presence known. Fred turns towards you and a smile immediately forms on his lips. “Working hard or hardly working,” you tease him as you walk towards the car, leaning against him as Fred chuckles.

“Well, I’ve been up since six in the morning trying to fix this thing with no avail. So maybe the latter is more fitting,” he jokes as you smile. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Just fine,” you shrug before saying, “Um, thanks for staying up and talking with me for a bit the other night. It was nice.”

Fred smiles and folds his arms across his chest, your eyes darting down quickly to watch how his strong arms flexed over his toned chest, making you stomach do a flip. “Yeah, of course. You make great company,” he winks at you as you can’t help but giggle at his flirtatious remark. “Anyway, have you thought about my proposal?” he ask, raising his eyebrows and leaning over the hood of the car, closer to you as your heart stops at how close he was to you in this moment, mind drawing blank as your eyes scan over his naked top half. Fred notices your stare and he smirks, “Cat got your tongue, darling?” he coos.

But before you can speak, a voice interrupts, “Fred, would you quite harassing the guest?” You turn around to see George making his way back with a tool box and a wrench that he tosses to Fred who catches it with ease. “Morning, (Y/N),” George beams as you smile at him. “If my brother will stop flirting with you, hopefully we’ll get the car fixed by tonight.”

You chuckle as Fred rolls his eyes, continuing to work on the engine as you pry yourself from the car. “I appreciate it a lot. Taking the time out of your day to fix the car,” you tell the twins as they both smile and say it was no problem. “I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up with you two later,” you walk backwards back to the house before leaving the twins alone to fix the car as a smile lingers on your lips.

Fred watches you walk away, disappearing back into the house, his mind fixating on the way you looked in that jumper and sleep shorts, going to places where he shouldn’t really be thinking about. George punches Fred’s arm and snaps him out of his daydream. “Are you kidding, mate?” George laughs. “Come on.”

Fred groans, “I can’t stop thinking about her, George.” George rolls his eyes and shoves Fred out of the way, taking a look at the engine of the car. “We talked the other night for hours. She’s smart, and she’s funny, and bloody hell, she’s fucking gorgeous,” Fred huffs, running his fingers through his hair at the thought of you. He had just met you two days ago and you were already the first and last thing on Fred’s mind when he woke up and went to bed. “And I know there’s something there, mate. It’s just...awkward since we’re around everyone all the time,” Fred explains. “But I like her, George.”

George looks at his brother, giving him a look before realizing the sincerity behind his eyes and hopeful smile on his lips. George sighs and speaks, “Alright then. I’d say go for it, mate. If you think that there’s potential, what’s holding you back?”

“Her life,” he breathes out as he leans against the car. “She works for the ministry. That’s where her life is, but she hates it. She told me that she wants to break away and move and open her own bookstore. (Y/N) wants a different life, but her obligations are holding her back,” Fred explains to George to tightens a bolt on the engine before looking up at his brother with a face that reads And? “I want to help her,” Fred speaks. “And not because I have a crush on her. Because she deserves it. After everything she’s been through, I want to help her live her dream,” he tells George who folds his arms over his chest. “Our dream came true and if we didn’t have help from Harry, who knows if and when our business would have taken off. The same can be said for (Y/N) and her dream.”

George goes back and forth as Fred anticipates a positive answer from his twin. With a sigh, George says, “Alright. Let’s do it. But under one condition!” Fred furrows his brows. “Don’t be doing this just because you fancy her. You really want to help her, right?” he clarifies.

Fred smiles gently, thinking about you and how happy you would be to receive the news that your dream is becoming a reality. “More than anything. She deserves it,” Fred speaks quietly as George smiles at his brother.

------

Night had rolled around just as quickly as the morning came and you were sat on the floor of Ginny’s room on the mattress as everyone got ready for bed. In your hands, a letter from Alyssa, that an owl had brought in just minutes ago. She was safe, thank Merlin, back in London, waiting for your arrival. But the thought of leaving the Weasleys now, when you were just getting to know everyone, made your chest feel tight with sadness. Getting to know your mate’s family was enjoyable, especially with this newfound connection with Fred. Leaving now would just screw things up.

But you had duties to attend. The ministry, your family, Alyssa. You needed to get things back on track before staying here caused them to derail yet again.

You hear footsteps coming from down the hall as you fold the parchment and tuck it in your waistband of your shorts as you rise from the mattress. Instead of Ginny appearing in the door way like you expected, it was a freshly showered Fred in his pajama bottoms and an old white t-shirt that was just thin enough so you could see the outlines of his toned torso. His lifts his hands up so he can hang on the door frame, his eyes tracing you up and down quickly. You smile gently, “You fix my car, Weasley?”

He chuckles, “Come take a look for yourself.”

The two of you start down the stairs, leaving the rest of the Weasley family behind as you made your way outside. The summer night is mild, the sounds of crickets fill the air, and the breeze smells of grass and dew. Fred runs over to your car that’s a few feet away from the back of the house and jumps into the driver’s seat, putting the key in the ignition, and the engine roars. You smile and clap your hands, a job well done. Fred hops back out as you sit yourself on the hood of the car, facing him. “Nicely done,” you compliment him as he pretends to tip his hat to you. “So, how long did it take you two to realize that there was a spell for fixing the car engine?” you reveal as Fred’s eyes widen.

“You knew this whole time and yet you made us work in the bloody heat?!” he exclaims with a small smile on your face as you laugh out loud, throwing your head back and clutch your sides. “You’re a monster!” he teases, slightly shoving your arm.

You laugh, “Come on, you had to admit it was funny. Ron starting placing bets on who would figure it out first. Molly even joined in at one point.” Fred scoffs and rolls his eyes. “But still...a job well done. Thank you. I’ll have to think of a way to repay you.”

Fred gives you a look and speaks, “I have a few things in mind...” Your heart starts beating quicker as your mouth becomes dry as Fred moves to stand in between your legs, hands on either side of you on the car. “First of them being,” he starts, “Move to London and start your own business.”

Part of you is disappointed with the request, wanting something else from the fire haired boy, but you sigh, “Fred, you know I ca-”

“George and I spoke this morning. We both want to help you get you on your feet, so we’re investing in your bookstore,” he gushes as you look at him with wide eyes. “There is an available building across the street from the joke shoppe. With your consent, we’ll put the down payment on it tomorrow and the shoppe is all yours. When business is booming, you can pay us back. But until then, the store is all yours. Ready to go when you are,” Fred tells you.

You are completely overwhelmed with the news and can’t wrap your mind around why they were doing this. Why you? You were speechless. “Fred, I-” you stutter. “I don’t know what to say...thank you...this is...I don’t know how to describe it, but I don’t kn-”

“You don’t have to thank me or George. We wanted to do this. Seeing you talk about how passionate you were made me want to help you out. It reminded me of when George and I were dreaming of starting a business. We wanted to help someone who we saw potential in. Or I saw potential in,” Fred tells you, scratching his neck, nervously looking down as your heart swelled. “And since you’re across the street from the shoppe, that means we can see each other more often,” he says. “If you want that is. It’s also a good way for Percy to come see you too if you prefer that over seeing me or George, you know. I don’t want to assume anything,” he rambles as you giggle.

Fred looks into your eyes as you gently smile at him. The moon illuminated his face in the darkness, softening his sharp features as he sighed, looking at you. In this light, you were close to perfection. Fred wanted to melt on the floor when you looked at him with those eyes. Eyes that held so much beauty and adoration.

It wasn’t until his forehead gently touched yours that you realized you were moving in closer. Fred gently brushed his nose against yours, making you lightly laugh before he slowly connected your lips into a gentle kiss. When his lips touched yours, it set your body on fire. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, moving gently, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, kissing you deeply. The kiss made you feel lightheaded and foggy, losing your senses, but at the same time, all of your senses felt heightened in the moment. Fred was addictive, you wanted more and more and more and that’s what made him dangerous. But you were too caught up in the feeling of his hands on your skin, lips pressing against him, soft moans falling from your lips into his mouth.

As Fred wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands brush up against something tucked into your waistband of your shorts. His laces his brows together before plucking it from your waistband, breaking your kiss as you whine when he does so. “What’s this?” he asks, holding up the parchment, confused.

You sigh and take it from him, playing with the letter in your hands. “It’s a letter, from Alyssa...she told me she’s safe with her mum and sisters. She’s in London,” you tell him as he smiles, rubbing your leg, knowing that her safety was important to you. “She’s...waiting for me...to come back to the ministry so we can get back to work,” you tell him.

Fred just laughs, “Well, you’re gonna have to break the news to her. I’ll get Errol and you can send her a letter tonight, telling her not to wait up.” But before Fred can run inside and get you parchment and a quill, you grab his hand and stop him, giving him a sad look. His happy eyes turn into confusion which turn into realization. “You are going to quit the ministry, right?” he asks as you sadly look away from him and back down at the parchment in your hands, nervously fumbling with it. “(Y/N), you hate it there. You have to quit.”

“I have duties, Fred. To my family. To the ministry. To myself. I can’t just throw away everything I’ve been working towards for years just for a silly dream!” you exclaim to him as he frustratedly runs his hands through his hair.

He scoffs, “A silly dream that I believe in. That George believes in. That you, at one point, believed in! I can help you! I’ll...I’ll...I’ll go down to the ministry with you tomorrow and help you face your father and Alyssa and all of them. We can move you out and into a flat and you can start living the life you wanted. Don’t you want that?” he throws his hands in the air defeated.

The whole situation had you torn up. Fred was offering you the chance of a lifetime. Your dream. Everything you desired Fred wanted to give to you with no strings attached. He just wanted to see you happy, doing the thing you loved. But on the other hand, you had an obligation to your family and the ministry. Leaving them would get you into some deep shit that would be too hard to recover from or climb out of. The last thing you wanted to do was pull Fred down with you.

You retort, “Just because I want it doesn’t mean it’s right for me, Fred!” Fred stands there in silence, shaking his head. “People are depending on me to assume this position after my father steps down. If I let them down, the whole ministry will have a vendetta against me. Do you realize what that means for me? It means I’ll lose everything. My dreams. The shoppe. My family....you...” you trail off at that last bit, but Fred catches it and looks at you with sad eyes. “Fred, I like you. I really do, but I can’t put you in a position that will make life a living hell for you.”

Fred shakes his head, “I am ready to take on whatever it is if it means you are happy. If it means that there’s a chance for us.”

His words make your heart ache with how much he already cared and it had only been three days since you met. But something deep down told you that this was something to fight for. Something to fight like hell for. But you didn’t know if you were prepared for that fight. “Freddie...I can’t...” you whisper to him, holding his face in your hands, trying to reach his sensibilities.

Fred gulps and stays quiet for a moment, but it feels like years. “Okay,” he simply states. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” The tone of his voice makes your heart break. “I, um, I should probably get back inside. We both should. It gets cold out here quite quickly.”

Peeling himself away from you, he starts back to the Burrow as you hop down from the hood of the car. “Fred,” you call out as he turns around. “I’m sorry.”

He looks back at you and shakes his head. “Me too.”

Fred continues to walk back into the house as you stand outside, in front of your car, letter in your hand, heart breaking in your chest. The decision you made was right, but why did it feel so wrong?

----------

“Percy, I can carry my own backpack to my car,” you laugh as you follow him down the stairs, Percy a few steps ahead of you.

Without looking back he speaks, “I insist. Now, go put something in your stomach. The drive back to London is long, so fill up.” You smile and shake your head as you walk into the kitchen as the rest of the Weasleys are sat around the table. You take a seat next to Ginny you passes you a plate full of pancakes as you graciously accept it.

Everyone greets you with a small smile or a good morning, but Fred just looks up at you with sad eyes before going back to pushing food around his plate. But that didn’t stop you from glancing at him every now and again, wishing you could make him happier. The fact of the matter was that neither of you were happy with the decision that had to be made. Fred had offered you the world on a silver platter and yet you refused in fear of the consequences. You had only known him for two days and yet he was so ready to help you, to make you happy. How could he be so sure of something when you were so unsure of everything.

But you push the thought aside and start to eat your breakfast. Ron starts conversation, “So, what’s the first thing you’re doing when you get back, (Y/N)?” he asks.

You think for a moment with a sigh. “There’ll probably a stack of work for me to sort through. I’ll tend to that first. And after that’s done...I don’t know. Probably try to get back in the routine of things, help my father out, tend to some department issues,” you speak plainly. The mundane nature of life back at home made your stomach twist as you thought of it in comparison to what life could be back in London in Diagon Alley with a bookstore to call your own...Fred right across the way...

Your thoughts are interrupted with a short chuckle from George. “Doesn’t sound like too much fun,” he tells you as you sigh with a small smile, figuring that Fred told him that you were taking him up on their offer of investment.

“Is work supposed to be fun?” you ask, taking a bite off your fork.

Fred sarcastically laughs. “Yes, actually. George and I love what we do for a living. Work isn’t supposed to be a task, it should be something you love. Something you have a passion for. Something that makes you want to get out of bed and work towards. Otherwise, what’s your life then? Something so mundane and boring and when you’re dead you end up regretting what you did with it?” Fred blurts as George elbows him under the table. Fred stops, realizing that he may have gone too far.

His words start to circle and dance around in your head, each one of them hitting you in the chest like a bullet. He was right. Why waste all of your time and effort into something you couldn’t care about? But it was too late. You were set out for the ministry and your family expected your arrival today.

You finish eating breakfast and circle back to Ginny’s room, doing a once over to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind. As you walked down the stairs of the Burrow, you felt sad to leave. Even the three days you spent here were the best days of the summer. Each day brought something new and exciting. Waking up each morning to see happy faces, Fred’s face...that was something you would cherish.

One by one, you say your goodbyes and profusely thank the Weasleys for letting you stay for so long. Molly insists it was nothing and you can come visit whenever you liked. When you get to Fred, you don’t know whether to hug him or just move on. But he decides for you. “Can I walk you to your car actually?” he asks you as you nod gently.

You give Percy a tight hug as you speak, “I’ll see you at work, Perc.”

But Percy turns to speak in your ear, “Will I?” You pull away from him sharply, giving him a look. Percy just smiles and speaks, “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). A talented one at that. You are too big for the ministry.” You give him a gentle smile as he whispers, “Get the fuck out of there. For my sake.”

But before you can say anything, Fred and you are walking out of the Burrow and to your car. The walk to your car is awkward and quiet as you play with the hem of your t-shirt, kicking rocks as you walk down the dirt path. Fred digs his hands in his pockets as he walks to your car.

When you make it to your car, you turn to the tall ginger and sigh. The two of you just look at each other for a moment before Fred reaches out and brushes a piece of hair from your face as you lean into his touch. His touch makes your heart flutter as he smiles gently at you before pressing his lips to your forehead, kissing it sweetly. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

Fred gives your hand a squeeze before letting it go gently, walking away from you and back to the Burrow. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and walking him walk away is like someone stabbing you in the gut. This isn’t how things were supposed to end. He wasn’t supposed to let you go. But if he was gonna let you go, you weren’t going to let him go.

“Fred!” you call out, making him halt in his tracks and turn back to you, shielding his eyes from the bright August sun. Your chest is heavy as you gather up all the confidence you have in your body. “I fucking hate the ministry. I hate my job. I don’t want to take over for my father. I don’t want to take this path that’s been made for me!” you exclaim, arms stretched. Fred just looks at you. “I want to open a bookstore. I want to help people learn. I want to wake up every morning, excited for the day. I want to wake up every morning and...see you,” you confess to him with a smile. “I want you, Fred.”

Fred just stands there for a moment before slowly walking back towards you and you inhale deeply, trying to keep your negative thoughts at bay. When he reaches you, he lets a small smile creep its way on his face. “I want you. I want to wake up every day and see your beautiful face staring back at me. I want to be there for you, to make you happy, to support you, to protect you. To make you feel safe and sound. I want you, (Y/N),” he confesses back as you smile widely.

The two of you waste no more time as his lips connect to yours, holding you in his arms. His lips are smiling into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. He pulls away with a goofy grin on his face as you chuckle, “My parents are going to kill me. The ministry is not gonna be happy about this.”

“Fuck the ministry,” he laughs as you join in. “I’m going to be by your side the whole time, helping you through it all. I swear. Through all the ups and downs.”

You hold his face in your hands as your heart swells in your chest. “I don’t like that I’m getting you into so much trouble,” you admit.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, please, sweetheart. Trouble is my middle name.”

The two of you share another quick kiss before Fred grabs your hand and the two of you walk back to the Burrow, happily linked together. Fred calls out, “Ron! Go get the mattress again! We’ve got company!”

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

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That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

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3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out. “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream. Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

#jimmy page #led zeppelin #that’s the way #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x reader #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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chaosprince-apollo · 3 years

Text

I find it poetic that in some ways Iroh's greatest defeat is ultimately his greatest triumph.

Like I'm not talking directly obviously. We know he was considered to be a great general and after his defeat he was ridiculed and broken because of the death of his son, he had no real place in his own nation due to his failure and outside of his nation he is a war criminal which he is undeniably aware of and he regrets because he knows he wasn't the good guy and his son died in vain. He may act like a buffoon at times but we know and the people in the avatar kingdoms know he is extremely capable and an expert stratergiest (a testament to this fact is people are wary of him and he STILL manages the convince them he's harmless even when the KNOW he's a dangerous man.)

Now to get to my point about why it becomes a triumph. Simple. It's his big turning point or his first big turning point. This failure and subsequent ridicule breaks him away from the expectation of being a great general. Breaks him away from being a model of what a fire nation soldier should be. Iroh is shown to always be a caring father and I truly believe he knew he was doing wrong but that he also loved his nation and the firelord (his brother) and wanted to bring glory/honour not just for himself but for his son. Failing at Ba Sing Se was a blow sure but if he'd succeeded a) more people than had already died would have and being enslaved by the fire nation. b) he'd have never become the man who became one of the cities protectors c) he'd possibly not have been the one to be with Zuko during exile and d) certainly wouldn't have been someone helping protect the Avatar.

Now I say this is one of his turning points because it's also extremely obvious his relationship with Zuko is his other important factor as to WHY Iroh is such a nuanced and well fleshed out character. There's no way Iroh WOULDN'T love Zuko, but his failure and death of his son drives Iroh not only to adopt Zuko as his own but also to understand that Zuko's mission is wrong and is the road to ruin.

Iroh has first hand knowledge what being on the wrong side gets you. He's also one of the only people around Zuko that acknowledges he is literally a 13 year old child (when exiled, 16 during the show) the gaang also make acknowledgement of this but considering they themselves are like 12-15 approximately this acknowledgement doesn't have the same impact as GROWN ASS ADULTS thinking it's okay for the firelord (a powerful force) to fight agni kai against a 13 year old and then exile him for having....an opinion? Like honestly do these people actually know what the agni kai was about and just accept that or are they told Zuko did something terrible...which like even so pretty poor form here y'all (anyway I digress clearly from my point but I have FEELINGS and probably there are other people with in the fire nation that have enough empathy and critical thinking to know that what happened to Zuko was wrong but my point remains) Uncle Iroh is one of if not the only ADULT character that seems to actually be shown as thinking Zuko is a child with feelings instead of that he's dishonoured his family or that he's evil.

(Side note, I know he calls Azula crazy but I also don't think he thinks she's actually evil either but he has no way to help her and even if he tried there's no way in her current mind set she'd ever listen. She wants to be strong and powerful and whilst she's incredibly smart she can't tell she's being manipulated because she's only ever gotten by on manipulation herself and being rewarded for that so it's difficult for her to see her father doing it to her. It's really enforced into her that her brother is weak and worthless because he doesn't have it in him to be like her. In her mind Iroh isn't just a failure as a soldier, he's a failure because he stood by Zuko. Why would she listen to someone so weak and stupid.)

So in conclusion after several tangents. Iroh's failure to take Ba Sing Se ultimately leads to his role in it's liberation and the defeat of the fire nation under firelord Ozai. His defeat helps put him on the side of the people and the avatar and gives him chances to make amends for his true failures (besieging the city in the first place leading to deaths including his own son and the failure to bring a stop to his younger brother's ambition and cruelty)

Another tangent fuck sorry, it's being a little while since I've watched and I'm thinking of things as I type and I am totally aware I might be missing stuff or misremembering things or that maybe I just have a different interpretation of certain events or characterisations. ANYWAY Iroh as the older brother was the one in line for the throne and Ozai tried to convince Azulon that Iroh was weak using Ba Sing Se as the reason (Azulon's reaction to this is entirely unfair, and it's hard to feel empathy for his fate at the time of his death even if, like other people of fire nation royalty, he has potential not to be a FUCKING COLOSSAL WANKER.) [Also a pause here to say there's a solid 11 to 12 hours between my thoughts here cause my friend called for me to pick her up from somewhere cause she finished waaaaay earlier than we were expecting so coherency who knows her lol]

I think the point I was making essentially comes down to Iroh's defeat leads Ozai to confront/try to reason with Azulon that Ozai would make a better firelord than Iroh (whether Ozai was wrong or right is a matter of perception ultimately) Azulon didn't like this and demanded Ozai kill Zuko, which I actually don't remember clearly but I looked at the wiki to jog my memory and it says that's what happened. Which was my point earlier about being a wanker, and sure maybe it was actually going to be some kind of test a la abraham and isaac etc but of course he got murked and also like firelords tend to have this follow through of becoming batshit at some point. Or at least the last few the precede our boy Zuko certainly have questionable levels of empathy for anyone outside of their immediate family and even then ... anyway who remembers Zuko's scar? Anyone, anyone at all. Yeah....

So Iroh defeat = Ozai trying to usurp the throne = Azulon's piece of shit death to Zuko demand = Azulon gets murdered, sorry assassinated = Ozai usurping the throne anyway (although I'm not sure Iroh really fought him on that at all? Someone please clarify) = Ozai being firelord when Zuko spoke up = the whole agni kai business = Zuko having his face burnt by his own father and told he's weak and is given a frankly impossible task = Iroh watching on and feeling shame, disgust, guilt, and honestly I ultimately think he felt fear for Zuko and fear of having to acknowledge more than ever before that his younger brother and even the nation he loves are on the wrong path and that power isn't worth the amount of pain and suffering caused, like I'm sure previous to this he knew, he had to have known because we know how incredibly intelligent Iroh is, and we also know he is part of white lotus (which again someone might have to tell me a timeline on that because the white lotus thing seems to have being going on a while so was he white lotus during the ba sing se seige? The first one I mean? OH THOUGHTS BUT I'LL COME BACK = Iroh and Zuko's pirate adventures uh, I mean Zuko tries to capture the avatar and Iroh drinks tea = Iroh having to watch Zuko struggle at an impossible task to regain honour he never actually lost = Iroh being a scheming old man to achieve the goal of giving Zuko a loving father = Iroh going on the journey with Zuko to befriend the gaang = Iroh participating with other white lotus members to liberate ba sing se = leading to help the downfall of an oppressive regime = Zuko taking the throne in a state of empathy and acceptance.

Like let's be real. Even though Iroh probably would have made a formidable firelord he possibly wouldn't have become the Iroh we know even though that man would have been in there and whilst he'd have remained a role model to Zuko it may not have had the same impact as the journey they DO share.

Okay I know I had more thoughts regarding white lotus things but this is so long and it's midnight and exactly 0 people will read this

Anyway I love Iroh thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

(Any mistakes are because my brain just dumped a bunch of thoughts and proofread absolutely nothing)

#uncle iroh #prince iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #fire nation #fire lord #fire lord azulon #fire lord ozai #agni kai #white lotus #ba sing se

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madara-fate · 3 years

Note

"Honestly this mutlishipping of sakura only especially by own sakura fans drives away a lot of sasuke fans .on the bright side this weird behaviour is lessening slowly and is kinda rare like max to max 200-150 people do it and Naruto hate in the sasuke X sakura is increasing best day ever" wtf? Maddy I know u aren't like this but I feel that I have to talk about it. Sasuke wankers are pretty annoying and have a weird sense of entitlement. Sakura can be treated like a prize that Sasuke won over Naruto(this is very common among male!ss shippers), can be degraded as a character if these Ssk stans want to use her to feel better but God forbidden if someone doesn't worship Ssk, it's literally a crime. I remember the time a big part of the ss Fandom treated Skr as nothing than Sasuke's future wife(hoping for her to be a damsel in distress for Sasuke to save her and the fandom get a ss moment, discrediting her bonds with other ppl, reducing her character as a mere love interest who is there for Ssk, etc), they humiliate her in ss fanfictions be it as she used like a tool to make Sasuke look good or be these weird fanfictions where she's his sex doll but still, no one complain. But when Ssk receives 1% of mistreatment it turns automatically into something bad(note: I don't think it should ever exist in first place) and Sakura fandom is treated like a villain lol And honestly, if Ssk fans stopped support ss just bc of it, it just show how much they don't really like the couple anyway. I always had ss as my otp even though a big part of the ss Fandom years ago only cared abt who Sakura would spread her legs in the end but not her as a character.

Sorry for bothering u with that, u don't deserve these kind of asks but I'm really done with these Ssk wankers who likes to play the victims while Sakura was treated worse and no one cares.

I'm not gonna say one side is better than the other. All I can comment on are my experiences on the matter, and for me, the Sasuke mischaracterisation in the SS fandom has been far more prevalent, and was the primary reason I stopped reading fan fics years ago (at least not from people I don't know and trust). Now obviously, I'm not about to use my personal experiences to indicate what the general trend is, but it was enough for me to have a rather firm perspective.

#Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #sasusaku

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Posting this a day early because it's my day off. I have the next chapter done, and in the meantime, I'll be working on The Princess and Her Sultan for those who have been patiently waiting and because I miss writing for that universe.

I have to warn you, this chapter is a bit absurd lol, but it's fun, I promise. And the end of the chapter will give you a hint for what's to come in the next chapter.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 6

Hans forces a tight smile on his face and hesitantly shakes Killian’s hand, obviously embarrassed he’d invited her to his hotel room. His features contort in pain as if Killian is gripping his hand a little too tightly.

Killian loosens his grip, apology flickering over his face. “Sorry, mate, sometimes I forget my own strength. I once tapped a bloke in the nose and broke several of his nasal bones.”

Unmistakable fear shows in Hans’ eyes and he quickly rips his hand from Killian’s tight clutch and spins around on his stool, returning to his drink and chugs it down.

Emma is still recovering from the initial shock of Killian coming over to… what, rescue her? Or stake his claim even though she’s not his to claim? She’s not entirely sure, but she plays along, flashing a sarcastic smile. “These heels are killing my feet. I had to sit down.”

Killian moves behind her and places both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently as he sweetly kisses her temple. Her entire skin warms from his touch. “Well, how about I give you a good foot rub when we get home, hmm?” he murmurs in her ear loud enough for Hans to hear as Killian kneads his fingers into her shoulders.

Emma has to swallow the moan rising in her throat as his decadent, silky voice penetrates her ear and his firm hands give her a momentary dose of heaven.

Holy fuck.

He’s not even doing anything to her, and she’s completely turned on. She’s not imagining his hands on her achy feet, giving her a good, thorough rubdown. Certainly not. “Mmmm, that sounds amazing, babe.”

He grins against her earlobe, causing a shiver to skate down her spine. When he removes his hands from her shoulders and extends one to her, she feels the loss of his warmth. “Until then, are your feet rested enough to dance?”

Emma slips her hand in his, interlaces their fingers and stands up, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you'd never ask. Lead the way.”

She looks over at Hans to catch his reaction as they walk past him, holding hands. Even from behind, she can tell he’s sulking.

When she realizes Killian is actually leading her to the dance floor, panic rises in her chest, and she tugs on his hand to stop him. “Wait, are we actually dancing?”

Killian turns his head around to look past her and nods. “Aye, love. Hans still has his eyes on us.” His jaw twitches as he shoots daggers at him. “Or rather, his eyes are still on you. So it’s best we keep up the ruse.” He moves again, pulling her through the crowd.

“But I don’t know how to dance,” she confesses, slightly ashamed. Her cousins took dance classes when they were younger and loved dancing but Emma mostly stuck to her books and simply listened to music rather than danced to it.

When they reach an appropriate spot on the dance floor, Killian stops and pulls her to him, placing her free hand on his shoulder and his open palm on her back. “There’s only one rule, love.” His eyes lift from their joined hands, and a breath escapes her when his face is only inches away, those baby blues boring into hers. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma’s heart flutters as their bodies are pressed closely together. A hint of a smile curves her lips as she follows his lead, and soon they’re moving with the rhythm of the music like they’re at a fancy royal ball. But somehow she manages to replace her smile with a small scowl. “I didn’t need a dashing rescue, you know. I can take care of myself.”

He smirks knowingly. “I don’t doubt that, love, but I was saving you from getting scolded by the bride for causing a scene at her wedding.”

Emma wrinkles her brows in confusion. “Causing a scene? What scene?”

“Oh, come on, Emma, you were about two seconds away from giving that bloke a bloody nose.”

“I was not,” she argues defensively.

He lifts both brows. “Oh really? Because it sounded like he was inviting you back to his hotel room. If I were you, I would’ve kicked him in the bollocks.”

“With the way you were staring at him and had that death grip on his hand, I’m surprised you didn’t. Talk about causing a scene,” she scoffs. “By the way, a nose only has two bones, not several.”

“I know that, but judging by the scared shitless look on his face, he either didn’t know or didn't care,” Killian chuckles.

She tilts her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “You weren’t jealous of him, were you?”

He almost laughs. “Jealous of that wanker? In order to be jealous, I’d have to be threatened by him. But he’s not capable of snagging someone of your caliber.”

Emma’s eyes widen in bemusement. “Someone of my caliber? And what caliber might that be?”

“I told you, love, you’re the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever met.” He leans closer to whisper in her ear. “And you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

Her face flushes as she cocks a brow. “So you’re saying you are capable?”

Blush paints his cheeks, his lips giving into a smirk. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

She doesn’t comment, and instead just stares into his eyes, which she’s beginning to think is a monumental mistake because she soon gets lost in those forget-me-not blues. Everything else around them disappears as they move across the dance floor, and all she can see is this gorgeous man who seems to be just as intrigued by her as she is by him. “Thank you,” she manages in a breathy whisper, her eyes still locked with his.

His pointy ears actually perk up. “What was that? I don’t believe I heard you right because it sounded like you were actually thanking me instead of yelling at me.”

She laughs. “That's because I was. You were right, I was two seconds from either punching Hans in the nose or giving him a swift kick in the balls. So thank you for stepping in... and for saving me from that asshole.”

He chuckles and lifts his hand to stroke her cheek. “You’re very welcome, love.”

The song ends, and the DJ plays something slow, but Emma has to admit she’s not ready to let him go yet. And she can tell he feels the same. It’s written all over his face. Which is confirmed when he releases her hand and wraps both arms around her waist. She curls her hands around the back of his neck and is so close to him, she can feel his heart beating against hers. She has to admit, he is very charming. Any woman would be a fool not to notice. Guilt stabs her when she recalls the mean things she’d said to him earlier, which definitely weren’t true. “I’m sorry for what I said before about a woman having to be either naive or desperate to fall for your charm.”

To that, he pulls back slightly, astounded by her apology. Then his brows furrow. “Did the bartender spike your drink?”

She giggles in his arms. “No, it was just… it was harsh… what I said.”

He smiles warmly. “No need to apologize. I came onto you a little too strongly.”

She scoffs playfully. “A little?”

He blushes, his smile widening. “Okay, a lot too strongly.”

“Not as strongly as Hans,” she points out.

“That’s true. Now there’s a guy you’d have to be either naïve and desperate to date.”

Emma nods in wholehearted agreement.

Killian breaks their trance to look over her shoulder. He smirks and whispers in her ear. “Don’t look now but we have an audience.”

Emma glances behind her, seeing Anna, Elsa and Ingrid staring at them and smiling, obviously enjoying the show; they might as well be watching a rom-com while munching on popcorn from one of those giant movie theater tubs.

“I told you not to look,” he chuckles.

She turns her head to face him again and laughs. “I’m glad we could entertain them.”

“Aye. It’s not even our wedding and yet we seem to be the stars of the show for the moment.”

She nods and stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out how they hadn’t met before. She’s heard about him, and he used to live in the same town as her, but somehow they had never crossed paths.

“What, love?” he inquires, noticing her staring at him thoughtfully.

She shakes her head. “Nothing, you’re just… you’re a mystery to me. I can’t figure you out.”

He cocks a brow, intrigued by her statement. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you act all cocky and smug, yet the way you were dancing with Camila was…”

“Was what?” he asks when she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“It was freaking adorable,” she admits with a smile. “You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you were just being you.”

He shrugs. “I’m good with kids. What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“You seem so confident in your own skin, yet I look into your eyes and see someone who’s emotionally armored. Like you’re trying to protect yourself from something. Perhaps someone?”

“Oh really? You can see that about me?” she asks with an amused grin.

“You’re somewhat of an open book,” he says with a confident smirk.

“Or maybe you’ve just heard my back story.”

He chuckles. “You caught me.” Killian takes her hands and steps back, spinning her around and dipping her. She loses a breath as she looks up into his eyes. “I’ve heard we’re opposites, but we’re actually not so different, you and I.” He brings her back up and draws her into his arms again.

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“I grew up without parents as well.”

Emma’s heart tightens when his eyes darken with sorrow. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “But how does that make us similar?”

“Because we both know far too much what it’s like to be alone.”

She knows he’s not only referring to losing his parents but also his brother. She wants to argue and tell him she’s not alone, but who is she kidding? She lost one of her few friends, and the only guy who’s confessed his affection for her is a psychotic killer. Well, she can’t say he’s the only guy because while Killian hasn’t announced he has a crush on her through an anonymous card, she can see how attracted he is to her. She can see it in his eyes. In fact, she wonders if she laid one on him, would he kiss her back?

Emma’s eyes fall to his lips as she ponders the thought. Her gaze flickers back to his, and she loses a breath when she catches him staring at her lips. She wonders what his mouth tastes like, wonders what it would hurt if she kissed him just once. Her eyes return to his mouth and she leans in, aching to feel those pretty lips pressed against hers.

A drum roll draws their attention to the center of the room, and they separate, looking to see what’s going on. They were so lost in their own little world and forgot they were at a wedding.

Anna prepares to toss her bouquet to a group of eager bachelorettes who shout and jostle for the best position to catch it. Emma wants no part in the bouquet toss, but Elsa seems to disagree when she grabs Emma’s hand and pulls her toward the group.

“Come on, Em, you’re single too!”

When Elsa releases her hand, Emma slinks to the back of the group and can’t wait for this to be over with. She looks over at Killian who’s gazing back at her longingly, and she can’t believe she almost kissed him. Well, she can—he’s fucking gorgeous—but at her cousin’s wedding? In front of all the guests? What was she thinking?

Anna tosses the bouquet behind her, and all the bachelorettes—except for Emma—spring for it. But Anna's throw is much stronger than expected and the bouquet goes far above their heads, aiming directly at Emma, and ends up in her hands after she instinctively catches it.

Damn it.

Emma holds it up, forcing a smile as the other ladies scream in excitement. She glances at Killian, who is laughing with Kristoff and drinking a glass of what she assumes is rum based on the color and what he'd ordered prior. Her eyes move to Anna who squeezes her into a hug.

Next, a chair is placed in the center of the room and the single men are called to gather around as Anna sits down, grinning from ear to ear. Emma stands off to the side, her eyes dancing between Killian and the newlyweds. Suddenly she’s nervous again, her heart pounding erratically against her breastbone, and she forces herself to look away from him to give her attention to the bride and groom.

Kristoff gets on all fours and pushes back Anna's skirt, his hand moving up her leg before his head disappears under her dress. Anna is squealing and blushing profusely, the crowd erupting with giggles and chants of encouragement. In a quick motion, Kristoff is out from under her skirts, his teeth pulling the frilly white garter down her leg and over her heel. When he stands up, he slingshots the garter over his shoulder toward the bachelors, and while the men aren’t as enthusiastic as the ladies were, Hans springs for it.

But when he misses it and falls to the floor, the man behind him—who of course happens to be Killian—lifts the garter into the air, grinning like an idiot as everyone cheers. His eyes find Emma’s through the crowd and he tosses her a wink as he twirls the garter belt around his finger. She responds with an eye roll and smiles at him, her cheeks warming with blush.

The next thing she knows, Emma is being prompted to sit on the chair as she holds onto the bouquet, and Killian still has that stupid grin on his face as he makes his way to her, holding up the garter belt. Emma bites her bottom lip, anticipation coiled in her gut.

The DJ plays Pour Some Sugar On Me as Killian circles around her like an animal circling its prey, eagerly awaiting its meal. When he’s behind her, he bends over to whisper in her ear. “I have to warn you, love, I’m a biter, too.”

Emma gulps, quite certain she knows his meaning.

Killian appears in front of her, and as he kneels on the floor, she extends her right foot to him, her heart suddenly pounding in her ear. She’s relieved when he uses his hands to pull it over her stiletto, and her skin tingles when she feels his fingertips on her ankle. Then he steals the air from her lungs when he gets on all fours, takes the lace of the garter between his teeth and starts dragging it up her leg with his mouth. Emma’s cheeks are on fire so she briefly buries her face in her hands, laughing in embarrassment as everyone whistles and screams and snaps photos. But the sounds and flashing lights are quickly drowned out because the man who’s moving up her leg with his lips and warm breath brushing her skin demands all of her attention.

Fuck.

She clenches her thighs together, trying not to envision his face in her lap for other reasons. He gets the garter belt past her knee, but then it gets snagged by her dress. So, with both hands, he pushes up the offending material and moves his face to the side of her outer thigh for a better angle, his hand brushing her other leg as he brings it back to the floor to use only his mouth again. She can’t imagine what this might look like to the guests. Well, she can, and she hopes the young ones aren’t watching. She can’t seem to take her eyes off Killian’s to check though.

The garter gets caught again, so he lifts her dress once more using his hands. His face inches closer to where she is definitely imagining him to be right now and with one final drag, he gets the garter where he wants it—mid-thigh—and backs away, taking all of his warmth and intoxicating scent with him. All the men are cheering for him, and he grins and blushes, his eyes locked with hers.

~*~

Killian hadn't meant to take it that far. When he caught the garter belt, he hadn’t planned on using his teeth—he was certainly envisioning it—but he knew it was definitely too much. If he weren’t working on the case and if she weren’t a suspect, and they were just two guests at the wedding, he would still be intrigued by her. He would still be attracted to her. And yes, then he wouldn’t have thought twice about using his teeth. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. But when she sat in the chair, biting her bottom lip, her eyes glinting with anticipation as she gazed over at him, he almost lost himself and consequently threw all rational thinking out the window.

When he’d whispered in her ear, he’d seen her flush and heard her gasp. When he’d knelt down in front of her, he’d witnessed those luminous green eyes sparkle, those pupils dilate as she offered her foot to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of her. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist using his mouth to drag that dainty piece of lace up her leg. Every inch of her was so extremely sexy, even her unpainted toenails were sexy, he had to use all the willpower in him to not touch her. And when he accidentally grazed his hand over her leg after he’d pushed the skirt of her dress out of the way, his heart rate sped up. But somehow he’d managed to place the garter belt around her thigh without completely molesting her.

The first part of his plan had been to crack open her shell, make her feel more comfortable with him, and now he’s afraid he’s screwed that up. And David of course was quick to point that out. While Emma was surrounded by her cousins and other females, probably commenting on Killian’s performance, David was pulling him outside and giving him an earful about how he should’ve let someone else catch the garter belt and how he definitely shouldn’t have used his mouth. David was so furious, Killian was sure he would send him back to Port Lavaca, but Killian assured him his behavior wouldn’t affect the second part of his plan. In fact, it would probably make it even more possible. David muttered a “You better hope so,” before storming back inside, pouting.

Killian downs his fourth glass of apple juice as he gazes across the room, his eyes connecting with hers. She blushes and looks away as she’s chatting with Elsa. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him if the way they keep glancing over his way is any indication. He would definitely put his money on it.

~*~

“Okay, spill it, Emma. And don’t leave anything out,” Anna encourages with a big, toothy grin, her eyes glinting with intrigue.

Emma's eyebrows furrow. “Spill what?”

“Don't play dumb with me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She looks across the room, and Emma follows her gaze, seeing Killian on the other end of it as he's drinking another glass of rum.

“You mean, Killian? What about him?”

Anna sighs dramatically and looks like she's about to burst.

“Is it true, you two are a couple?”

That question was from Elsa, who's just as eager as her sister to expunge the juicy details. Well, maybe not quite as eager, but still very interested.

“No, of course not,” Emma answers, her eyes wide with shock. “We just met.”

Anna’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion. “But my husband said Killian was your boyfriend.” Anna blushes and giggles. “Oh my God, it feels good to finally be able to call him that! My husband, I mean,” she clarifies, as though they didn’t already know who she meant. “But back to Killian, why did Hans yell at my husband for not telling him you were already taken?”

Emma frowns at the mention of that creep. “Oh that. Killian told him he was my boyfriend because he saw Hans making me uncomfortable. He was trying to save me from punching Hans in the face and ruining your wedding.”

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet,” both cousins gush.

“By the way, who invited Hans?” Emma demands sharply. “He invited me to his hotel room, and before that, I made it very clear I didn't even want to engage in conversation with him.”

Anna’s eyes go wild. “He did what?!” she gasps. “Oh no, that is not okay. I told Kristoff we never should have invited him.” Fueled with anger, she spins around, lifts her skirts from the floor and marches over to Kristoff, who’s chatting with the groomsmen.

“Anna, wait, I don’t want to make a big deal about it,” Emma calls after her, but her auburn-haired cousin ignores her and continues her trek. Emma sighs and turns to look at Elsa who’s always been the calm, rational one of the two sisters. At any rate, she can’t say she’d be sad to see Hans kicked out.

“I’m so sorry about Hans. He’s such a creep,” Elsa comments before sipping her punch.

Emma dismisses Elsa’s words with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” A slow smirk pulls at her lips. “So tell me, what exactly is going on with you and Killian? And don’t you dare say 'nothing'. He just used his mouth to get the garter belt on you when he could’ve easily used his hands. And you were…”

“I was what?” Emma asks, trying to contain the smile threatening her lips.

“You were pretty into it,” she teases, swatting Emma's shoulder.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe he's a little cute, but as I said, we just met. I know nothing about him, except that he’s cocky and a compulsive flirt.”

Elsa nods in agreement. “You’re not wrong about that, he can be cocky but in a charming, boyish sort of way. And yes, he can be a bit of a flirt, but he’s mostly bark and no bite.” She laughs at her own remark. “Okay, well as we all saw, he is a little bit of a biter.”

Emma flushes at the comment and wonders if he’s a biter in the sack because she definitely wouldn’t mind it if he were. Not that she plans on getting him in the sack. Because she definitely doesn't. She snaps her eyes shut briefly, chastising herself for having those thoughts.

“But don’t worry, I won’t badger you about him.”

“Thank you,” Emma murmurs before imbibing her water. She thinks about it for a moment though. Elsa knows Killian pretty well, so this might be an opportunity to find out whether she's wasting her time on him or not. She wants to say she’s not even considering the possibility of dating him, or anyone for that matter, but Elsa can easily squash any or all of Emma’s musings about the man. “So, tell me…” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, deciding on the right question.

Based on Elsa's knowing smile, she seems to be onto her. “Yes?”

“Is Killian a good guy? I mean honestly? You know I don’t date because I have my trust issues. So am I just wasting my time by lowering my guard around him or—”

“He’s a great guy, Emma. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I’ve spent some time with him, and we were pretty close before Liam died. He can be a little rough around the edges and hot-headed at times, but he’s honest, has a good heart and can be very sweet. We had a rough patch for a while but now I hope we can be close again. And I know it’s difficult for you to open up, Emma, but you can’t keep people out forever. Besides when is the last time you’ve gone on a date and just had some good old-fashioned fun? You work so damn much, I bet you can’t even remember.”

Guilt rises in Emma’s cheeks, and she nods, considering Elsa’s words. “You’re right. It’s been far too long since I've been with a guy. But he hasn’t even asked me out. How do I know he’s even interested?” She already knows how ridiculous the question sounds when she asks it.

Elsa lifts a brow that says, really, Emma? “With the way he was dancing with you, giving you those doe eyes and the way he put that garter belt on you, do you really need any more proof that he’s completely into you?”

Emma sighs. “But how do I know he doesn't act like that around every woman he meets?”

“He doesn't, only with women he's interested in. And that's rare for him. He caught the garter at mine and Liam’s wedding, but he didn’t use his teeth, and the bachelorette was much more flirty than he is with you. It was more of an obligation for him then,” Elsa ends the statement with a smirk. “But with you, I could tell—hell everyone in the room could tell he was into you.”

Emma laughs, her cheeks flooding with blush. “Okay, okay, I get your point. So... I should just ask him out then?”

Elsa’s face lights up in excitement. “Yes, you should!”

Emma inhales a deep breath, her heart pounding at the possibility of approaching him. She doesn’t really have a plan yet, but maybe it’s better to just wing it. No, on second thought, she has to have a plan. “Women can ask men out, right?”

“Are you kidding? Yes, they can! Go for it, Em,” she chants encouragingly.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Emma turns around and straightens her shoulders, determined to march over to Killian. Instead, she freezes, her eyes widening in surprise when he’s standing in front of her with a drink in his hand. His hair is carelessly disheveled, his eyes are a dull shade of blue and he’s still wearing his jacket, but his tie is hanging loosely around his neck and his dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned, allowing a patch of dark chest hair to poke out. He's obviously been drinking a little too much. But he still looks delicious.

“Hi there, love,” he greets with a smirk, his words slurred. He stumbles forward and Emma grabs onto him and catches a whiff of him. Okay, he’s been drinking way too much.

Her eyes sting from the smell of rum as she helps over to the nearest chair. “Easy tiger, I think you’ve had too much to drink.” As she helps him sit in the chair, she glances at Elsa, her cousin’s features donning a mixture of concern and apology.

“He doesn’t normally drink this much.”

Emma looks around, seeing the kids on the other side of the room playing and running around.

“We should probably get him home. I don’t want Camila or his nephews to see him like this,” Elsa says in a worried tone.

“I’m fine, really.” Killian lazily waves off her words and tries to stand, but almost falls over again before Elsa and Emma catch him.

“I guess I should take him home. Will you watch Camila while I’m gone?” Elsa asks her.

“Why don’t I just take him?” Emma suggests. “You should stay and spend time with your sister before she goes off on her honeymoon.”

“But you don’t have your car with you,” Elsa points out.

“Did he drive here himself?”

“Yeah, he came in his truck.”

“Okay, so I can just drive him home in his vehicle and catch an Uber home. Where’s he staying?”

Elsa shakes her head. “I’m not sure. A motel I think.”

Emma kneels in front of him like she’s speaking to a child. “Where are you staying, Killian?”

“Wherever you want me to stay,” he drawls with a cheeky grin.

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches into the inside of his suit jacket, searching for his wallet.

He smirks. “If you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma can’t help but blush, his face inches from hers as she grabs his wallet. God, he’s wasted. Rifling through his wallet, she finds a key card from Pinn Road Inn, which is on the other side of town.

She informs Ingrid what’s going on, and after she hugs the newlyweds and wishes them a fantastic honeymoon, she and Elsa help Killian to his truck and buckle him up in the passenger seat. Elsa apologizes profusely as though she’s responsible for her brother-in-law, but Emma waves off her words and hugs her goodbye. She promises to have lunch with her and Anna after the honeymoon and climbs into the truck.

The drive to the motel is mostly silent until Killian suddenly starts cursing like a sailor. She looks over to see him pulling at a thread that's hanging from the cuff of his jacket.

“Don’t pull at it, you’ll ruin the jacket,” Emma warns, returning her eyes to the road. “Just take it back to the haberdashery you got it from.”

“Royal tuxedos, my arse. More like royal crap,” he bleats, reclining in his seat to reach into his pants pocket.

Too late.

Glancing over at him, she sees him using a Stanely knife to cut off the string. Her eyes widen in horror. “Don't do that, you'll—”

Killian’s groaning in pain, his left hand is covered in blood and the blood is dripping all over his suit.

“...cut yourself,” she finishes with a sigh.

A/N: So you probably have a lot of questions about what exactly is up Killian's sleeve, but I promise that will be covered in the next chapter. And yes, I couldn't make either Emma or Killian a doctor without injuring the other one at least once and having some doctor/patient scenes. I promise Killian will be in good hands though :-)

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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forpeopleidontknow · 4 years

Text

falling into you - h.o.

chapter two - married in vegas

mob!haz au

warnings: swearing (i think that’s it)

word count: 2k

author note: i’m trying to think of a good posting schedule but I feel like posting once a week is too little and posting twice a week is too much so i’m in a bit of a pickle but I’ll figure it out!

chapter one ✕ masterlist ✕ chapter three

You wake up, closing your eyes shortly after opening them to avoid the blinding light. After giving yourself some time, you could finally open your eyes. Looking over at your desk clock you read the time

1:28 PM

Fuck. You reach over to grab your phone while being greeted with new messages from Harry

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

3:34 AM: hey, I’m just making sure you got home safe. I can’t have my poker date dying lol

6:05 AM: good morning. A car will be there to pick you up at 6. Don’t make him wait

6:06 AM: I just realized I don’t have your address so send that to me

You

1:30 PM: hey, yeah sorry. I just woke up lol. I will send you my location.

1:31 PM: and did you say you would send a car for me?

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

1:32 PM: I did. Also, the dress code is black tie. Something like you wore last night will work.

Well, that’s great. You have nothing like that in my closet which means you have to borrow clothes from Y/F/N. You get up from your bed walking towards the door when you see the heels you wore last night, instantly reminding you of the guy who caught you. You quickly shake him out of your head and head to your roommate’s room. You knock on her door lightly knowing that after last night her head is probably pounding.

“Go awayyyyy” she groaned, making you laugh lightly

“I need a dress, black tie.” you say while opening the door and walking in

“Since when do you want to wear a dress like that?” she lifted her head to look at you

“Some guy asked me to be his date for poker night and I agreed now please get me a dress, I need to be ready by 6.” you plopped down on her bed laying in the space next to her.

“Okay fine.” she got up making her way to her closet. She digs in for a few seconds before pulling out a black dress, similar to the one you wore last night and some silver heels.

“Here, now get out!” she hands you the articles and then plops back down on her bed, covering her head with the covers.

It was 5:48. You had showered, styled your hair, and successfully did a smokey eye. You were walking downstairs to wait in front of your building. 6 on the dot a Mercedes-Benz pulls up and the door opens.

“Hey darling, you look stunning.” Harry greeted you

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this.” you stated while getting into the car. You looked at Harry, he was wearing the exact outfit as last night, just missing the sunglasses.

“Would you care to explain to me why someone is driving us?”

“Bossman insists, I just follow orders.” he shrugs

“You play poker with your boss and he sends you cars? Where do you work!?” you asked being flabbergasted about the information you just received.

“The less you know the better.” You thought he was joking but his face was serious. You let out a nervous chuckle in hopes to clear this newfound tension in the air, but it seemed to make it worse. After being in the car for what felt like hours but more like 20 minutes the car started to slow down. You brought your gaze to the window to be greeted by a gate.

“It’s Pruitt. Arriving with Harry Holland and company. Buzz me in.” The chauffeur spoke into the call box. The gates started opening as he was buzzed in. Driving for a little while until you were shocked at the sight was in front of you.

A mansion. You counted the 33 windows that laid on the front of the house as the car pulled into the round motor court, housing a few other cars similar to the one you were in. The driver got out of the car and went around to Harry’s side, opening the door. Harry stepped out.

“Thanks, Jaxx. I’ll take it from here.” He patted the man on the shoulders and held his hand out for you to grab. You took it and stepped out of the car. You put your arm around Harry’s and walked up the stair. At the front door, were two men. Security you were guessing. You walked into the front door, hearing your heels click on the limestone floor. Your eyes went straight to the double staircase the met that the top and a crystal chandelier hanging over your head. You were torn from your thought when a voice spoke.

“You weren’t lying when you said you had a date.” A man who looked comparable to Harry spoke to us. Harry unraveled his arm from yours to take a step closer to the man.

“Don’t be such a wanker” Harry opened his arms and engulfed the man in a hug. Stepping away Harry rejoined you, next to your side

“Tom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my brother, Tom.” Harry introduces you to the man. You hold out your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Tom winked and then kissed your hand. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Well we are about to get started, the boys are in the game room.”

They led you down some stair and a hallway until you reached an archway. Your nose was greeted with the smell of cigar smoke. Walking in a bit more the sound of your heels was silenced by the rug under you. You put your hand on the pool table in front of you and turned your head towards the bar on the left side of the room.

“And the boy made it with his date” You snapped your head. Another man, he had is arm around Harry’s shoulders. You were guessing another brother. He moved towards you putting his hand out.

“Sam.”

“Y/N.” you shook his hand.

“Well I’m glad you could join us y/n” he smiled. You smiled politely back at him

“Where’s Harrison?” Harry asked looking around the room

“Behind you, you div.” A guy walked in thumping the back of Harry’s head. He then looked at you and then it hit you.

The Mystery Guy. The mystery guy is standing in front of you. What?!? Your internal panic was interrupted

“Uh y/n, you alright?” Tom asked you

“What? Oh yeah uh, just uh... a little parched. Could I get some water? You nervously stuttered out while quickly trying to look anywhere but in his eyes.

“Could we get the girl some water?” Harrison spoke out loud, not directing the question to anyone in general. “I believe we didn’t get the chance to meet last night, I’m Harrison and you are?”

“Y/n and yeah sorry about that. My friend was waiting in a cab and I just couldn’t... keep her… waiting so...” You couldn’t form a normal sentence to save your life making you even more nervous. A man hands you your water and you thank him. You took a fairly long sip to get rid of the uncomfortable dryness in your mouth.

“So y/n, are you playing?”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“I’ll have to teach you one day.” Harrison smiles then walks away dragging Harry with him. “So what's the deal between you two?’

“Huh?”

“Are you two serious?”

“Mate, if I tell you this you have to swear on your life you don’t tell anyone else?”

“Code one of the Omertà oath.” Harrison holds up his hand to show his ring.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Harry laughs and punches Harrison in the arm for his dramatics. ”We aren’t even dating, I met her last night at the nightclub opening. You have my blessing, now go make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Harry said in a godfather-Esque Italian accent.

“And you are calling me dramatic.” Harrison chuckles then walks back over to you “Now let get this pretty lady into a chair.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the table where two other men were sitting. He pulls out a chair for you, pushes it in and then sits next to you. After a few minutes you learned the names of the other men at the table, Tuwaine and Jacob. Harrison cheered again after he won another game.

“Boss man, you should put your house on the bet.” Tuwaine jokingly suggested.

Wait Harrison is the boss?

“You can get my house when you do what I do.” Harrison smiled at him checking his cards

“You live here?” You had forgotten where you were after being in this room for the whole night.

“Yep, all 126 room belong to me.” He smirked while putting some chips in the middle

“What could you possibly do that gives you enough money for a house like this?”

“I don’t think you want to know that sweetheart.” He winked at you and then directed his attention back to the game. After a few more minutes you wanted to stretch your legs. You pushed your chair out getting ready to get up

“Hey love, where are you going?” Harrison speaks putting in a few more chips in the middle.

“Just going to stretch my legs, I’ll be over there.” You pointed towards the bar. You got up and walked over to it. Leaning on the counter instead of sitting on the bar stool. You ordered a cherry coke. You were about to make your way to the couch in the back of the room when you got drenched with a cold liquid. A crash following soon after caught everyone’s attention. Harrison swiftly moved from his chair and across the room to you.

“What’s all this about?” His voice was aggressive, nothing like he had been tonight.

“I’m sorry sir, I tripped. I’ll get it cleaned up.” The bartender was practically shaking leaving you with the question of why. Why was he so scared?

“Like hell you will!” Harrison spoke just a bit too loudly making you flinch. That caught his attention. His eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Follow me.” His voice was gentle now. He held out his hand. You were hesitant to take and he noticed. He looked at your eyes for some sort of reassurance but all he saw was fear. He scared you and now you were frozen in place.

“Can someone call Amy and tell her to bring one of my shirts?” Harrison spoke again not to anyone in general but just out loud. A few minutes later an older woman walks in with a shirt.

“Thanks Amy, you are an angel.” He gives you a warm and kind smile. A complete 180 from the bartender. “Here love, let's get you out of these clothes.” He put his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bathroom and handed you the shirt.

You took a second to breathe in your surroundings. It wasn’t big, only housing a toilet and a sink but somehow it was still stunning. You quickly stripped yourself of the alcoholic smelling dress and put your arms through the silk sleeves. While you were in the bathroom Harrison walked back into the game room.

“Alright, games over.” Harrison’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. As much as the boys wanted to stay they know not to make him ask twice. They all filed out of the room.

“Do you want me to take her home?” Harry approached the blonde.

“No, I got it. Thanks though mate.” He patted his shoulder. You peaked your head out of the bathroom looking at the back of his head. You walked towards him.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked while approaching.

“Felt bad for taking all their money.” You laughed at his comment making him smile.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I can get you a car if you want to go home.” He has sincerity in his eyes.

“Actually if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I was looking up different types of house while writing this chapter so the layout made sense in my head and I stumbled across this GIANT HOUSE and when I say giant I mean it. So I based some parts of Harrison’s mansion on it. If you guys want to see it you can click here!

#haz osterfield wallpaper #tom holland and harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield wallpaper #harrison osterfield lockscreen #haz osterfield lockscreen #mob!haz #mob!harrison

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aw-eather · 4 years

Text

Heather Watches SG1 s7ep17&18: Heroes pt1 and pt2

Watched 23/06/2020

Well here we go friends. I’m torturing myself for the sake of making y’all laugh and also because I have a LOT of feelings about this two parter and NONE of them are good. I can’t be the only one so lets see who else agrees with me!

This is about to get long and very swear word heavy so avert your eyes if you aren’t into that <3 Just letting you know I use some VERY strong language this post. I’m Australian so the word isn’t uncommon for us to use and we use it as a term of endearment in some parts too but I just wanted y’all to know.

This turned into the biggest one I’ve ever done too with 362 dot points... read if you dare

Well here we go

I’m probably gonna cry a lot

I love Saul Rubinek.

I adore him in Warehouse 13

Artie Neilson is like the dad I didn’t have

but fuck me if I don’t hate Emmet

This WHOLE two parter is pointless and just serves to kill of a character that didn’t need to die

Anyway getting into that a little early on

Fuck the defence department.

You haven’t spoken to Space Dad of Texas

The most unorthodox

JFC this ass hole

I’m calling him AssHole for the rest of the episodes

Of course they don’t want them here, he’s a dick

Hammond’s little smile

This whole episode feels sombre and sad

and we’re three minutes into the two parter

this whole thing is about to fall to shit

credits

i’m not even excited for the credits

because I’m hurting

last time I watched this I’d started crying the second it started so I’m doing much better this time

I love watching them go up the ramp to the gate

its nice

end credits

NO ONE ASKED YOU SAUL

that was a bomb

but NO ONE ASKED YOU

And Teryl Rothery as Dr. Janet Fraiser

FUCK OFF

He doesn’t have time

He’s busy

Lol coughed on his hand and went to shake Saul’s hand

dead

memos... as if Jack’s ever read one of those

Sam is so awkward

I love her so much

It is nothing short of extraodinary

she is nothing short of extraordinary and we know this

but again

NOT ONE ASKED YOU ASSHOLE

and grand empress of scifi

grand empress of my heart

goof ball

the list goes on

god she’s so awkward’

but so adorable

Thats fine

please annoy Daniel

What was it like to be dead ffs

TRANSCENDED? DID YOU PAY ANY ATTENTION???

What else is he supposed to say?! He DIED he doesn’t REMEMBER ANYTHING

Daniel’s right

Its fascinating

LOL DANIEL YOU STUPID IDIOT THATS HILARIOUS

I love Daniel when he’s pissing off people i hate

Bill <3

Personal microwave oven... nice

And its only taken you 7 years

so glad you did though

Odd that he was on fire

but we never see that happen any other times

“He does this all the time” poor Siler

Sam looks so happy when talking technobable and about her doohickeys.

I adore her

And honestly all that shits fascinating

still 32 minutes left...

honestly if it weren’t for me talking about Janets death, I’d never watch these again.

They are genuinely some of the worst episodes of SG1

I said what I said

“Sure. Its really cool. Steam comes out of it and everything”

She’s gonna kill someone

WALTER

Thats right

FUCK OFF SAUL

DOESN’T MEAN THERE WASN’T ANY GOA’ULD HERE RECENTLY

I love that they take odds

but this scene is only here to set up the character that is the reason Janet dies

because Janet shouldn’t have been off base

but we’re not going to talk about that are we?

The episode would have played out the same if this man had died

Anyone can die in war

Doesn’t matter if they’re a parent etc

but nah

we gotta -

sorry I’ll stop

SHE’S SO HOT

JACK YOU IDIOT

As if he read the memo

THERE SHOULD BE A CAKE

Obviously he can’t tell you much because he was DEAD

OMG TEAL’C

HE’S NOT SAYING A WORD

BECAUSE HE FUCKING HATES THIS GUY MORE THAN I DO

SAUL SHUT UP

LITERALLY NO ONE CARES

GO HOME

“Dr Jackson is going to die when he sees this”

“What again?”

my dude you have NO idea

This is what happens when you go poking around

you get ambushed

because it was all a fucking set up

no explination of WHO set them up tho... it was just a set up

what

joke

wooooooow

they took it out with a WALL

NOT THIS FUCKING ARSE HOLE

KINSEY JUST PISS OFF

WE DON’T LIKE YOU

WE DON’T WANT YOU

GO SUCK A ROTTEN TOMATO

EVEN SAUL IS BORED OF YOU

AND HE’S THE MOST BORING MAN I’VE EVER MET

leave Jack alone

YES JACK

Its not slander if its TRUE YOU WANKER

NO YOU HAVE NOT

PAST AND PRESENT YOU ASS

JFC

Who cares what the president wants

I am 90% sure Jack just called Kinsey a limp dick and I’ve never been prouder?

“deep and unyielding love for you, sir” SHUT UP JACK YOU GOOSE

Well Mr Bregman can such a toe

Fancy arguing with Space Dad from Texas

OH FUCK OFF SAUL

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

NO ONE CARES

HAMMOND IS RIGHT

PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIE IF YOU’RE THERE

PEOPLE ARE GOING TO GET HURT

YOU HAVE NO RIGT TO BE THERE

Sam joking around with Teal’c is so sweet

I love them and their friendship so much

Gah!

OF COURSE THERE IS A CHANCE THINGS WILL GO WRONG YOU NARCACISTIC FUCK

ITS LIKE TO GO MORE WRONG WITH YOU THERE

I’M SORRY I’M YELLING SO MUCH I JUST HATE HIM WITH MY ENTIRE BODY.

Well is he wrong?

Because you’re an absolute arse, thats why it doesn’t matter

Shots of your ass serve us all well O’Neill

“How do you feel about Colonel O’Neill”

She wishes to kiss him, sir.

And potentially much more but we shall no discuss that here

He is amazing

Time outside of work... what are you insinuating

Good cover

Like family

First and foremost her superior officer

Secondly your LOVER

because I pretend Pete doesn’t exist right now

OH THIS SCENE

Actually that was pretty cute Daniel

And you’re right it is fascinating

At some action?

So you can be a dick and use peoples death as entertainment?

Fuck me

His job is the inscriptions

seriously fuck this guy

I love how Sam’s face goes from he’s right its boring to aww Daniel, he didn’t :O

I love their friendship

But it nearly could have cause people like oh, I don’t know, YOUR BOYFRIEND, SAMANTHA, stalk people

shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did

if y’all hadn’t stayed

this wouldn’t have happened

Janet my love

I’m crying

wow Jack has been hurt a fuck tonne

he didn’t give permission

Saul is an ass

I’m literally fighting tears right now

I fucking love her so much

You never know what to expect but you do such a good job sweetie

I’m so proud of you

The more she talks the more proud of her I am

and the more of a loss it truly is that she goes

because she’s fucking incredible and she has so much heart

her little laugh fucking STOP

My heart is literally breaking

AND DR FRAISER

STOP

THEY WOULDN’T HAVE JUST WALKED INTO AN AMBUSH LIKE THAT ON ANY OLD DAY

WHY NOW

WHO WROTE THIS FUCKING SHIT

FUCK OFF SAUL

THIS IS RIDICULOUS

HER GIGGLE STOP I LOVE HER

SHE DESERVED MORE

DO NOT GO

JANET NO STAY

BABY

and we end there to go to part two

this episode felt weird

it feels like is a drama inside a drama does that make sense?

It kinda feels like 200

like it feels fake and like its about to cut to a shot of them sitting around a table, flabergasted and with their heads in their hands

So Robert C. Cooper wrote it

I just wanna talk buddy... just wanna talk

THEY AIRED THIS FUCKER THE DAY BEFORE VALENTIES DAY?!?! WTF SYFY?!

Alright starting episode 2

SAUL FUCK OFF YOU CAN’T BE THERE

JANET BABY DON’T GOOOOOOO

I AM CRYING

I have my pillow pet who is named Janet

She was a gag gift about 7 years ago and I was watching SG1 at the time

but also she just looked like a Janet

She’s become a staple in my life and I love her

Anyway she always gets me through these episodes

credits

still not into it right now

should have skipped them this episode tbh

end credits

Ordered chocolate cake

it arrived

i’m happy with this choice

I don’t give a fuck about them deciding what happens in the fucking video

Good answer Daniel

I could also watch Major Carter’s head talk all day

They didn’t stand a fucking chance out there

They ran into that situation totally unprepared

which they would never have done normally

this whole two parter is fucking bull shit

and then they pit Jack and Janet against each other... like who are we gonna be more upset to lose in this moment

Fuck Jack

baby noooo

I can’t take this episode ffs

Lol Walter being cute

Get out of there

You cunt

get that fucking camera off

fuck this guy

no Sam

fuck off

leave her alone

punch him in the face

oh Sam honey I’m so sorry

she lost her best friend

FUCK OF SAUL

JESUS

HER BEST FRIEND JUST DIED

SHE’S IN PAIN

YOU DO NOT GET TO DICTATE WHETHER PEOPLE GET FILMED WHEN SHE’S CLEARLY IN PAIN

I’LL TURN YOU OFF YOU FUCKING ARSE HOLE FUCK YOU

don’t sit there all upset like your day has been ruined

And now we have them making us think Jack died so that we worry about him the entire episode instead of Janet

because who cares about her right?

FUCKING WOOLSEY

I literally just screamed

i hate him

this episode can’t get any FUCKING WORSE

I also question the decision.

No offence Space Dad of Texas

but it doens’t make sense that you chose to do what you did

I’m sorry but it doesn’t

FUCK OOOOOOFFFF WOOOSLEY

Hammond visiting Carter <3

Ah Barrett

So Woolsey is a corrupt piece of shit

Whoda thunk it

I’m crying again

Poor Hammond

Poor Sam

Talking at the memorial man

OH GOOD MORE WOOLSEY

BECAUSE THIS EPISODE ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH...

Fuck him

And the truth is that you’re a dick, moving on

Daniel has a point... and I hate saying that but he has a point

I love Sam

Daniel doesn’t give a fuck

Go Daniel I’m proud of you

OH NOT SAUL AND THE F U C K I N G CAMERA

NO PISS OFF

This is cruel

to make us see her death

to show us her literal dead body was too fucking much

I’m sorry but this would have been just as powerful if Simons had died

Hes a good kid

but this would have had the same impact

I’m sick of this man

I’m sick of this shit

OH MY GOD GO THE FUCK AWAY YOU PIECE OF SHIT

Which is why you bastards should not have been in the fucking field

It was of a man dying

end of

Yeah but what they do every single day doesn’t mean show us JANETS DEATH

Sharing it with the world won’t make him feel any better about one of his best friends getting show you mole

Good, Woolsey again

suck my dick

So this guy put money values on peoples heads

and he got command of Atlantis?

Yeah fuck him I’m not watching s5 of Atlantis

to be fair $27 million is a lot of money

but its still peopls lives

fuck off you smarmy git

I would love to see him tossed out on his arse

He can do that

fuck off you don’t get to say in whether or not you’re there or have a right to be there

you’re invading on peoples privacy

you’re an ass

The Tape

Fuck the N.I.D

I actually feel really bad for Daniel

fuck you Bregman

so excited to see people’s deaths

I had to pause for a moment

because I just saw Janet die

and its cruel

We didn’t have to see her death

knowing it happened was bad enough

physically seeing her dead is like salt in the wound

Janet deserved so much more than this

hope you’re happy bregman

sam visiting Jack

hurts because i love the cute moment

but it hurts

because we shuoldn’t have had to lose janet for this

Cassie... my heart is broken

the way he looks at her when she starts crying and the hug like he has been there with her so many times

its all so sweet

and they’re so in love but they can’t have each other

its rude

Poor Simon...

Poor Sam

watching her cry is so hard

and Teal’c

guys i’m not sure i can finsih this

ok sorry I’m back

Gotta pick up Cassie

Cassie 100% lived with Sam right?

Oh Teal’c... i love you so, so much you sweet angel

and the little hug.. their friendship is beautiful

I’m so sick of Bregman at this point

and them being in the room where Daniel died, where Jack chose to get his symbiote, where they saved Cassie and Sam and countless others, where they helped Teal’c

Janet was so strong, so wise

oh Daniel... I’m sorry

It does but others don’t need to see it Daniel

Oh fuck I’ll be back after the memorial

its such a beautiful memorial

and Im glad they chose Sam to talk

I’m gonna say some more in my final notes

its hard right now with the tears

I still think you’re an absolute arse, Saul

This was kinda sweet actually

oh they named the baby Janet

i’m never gonna stop crying

Oh Jack

he’s so unimpressed

what a stupid way to end it

sorry but that was shit

Final thoughts

i genuinely hate these episodes. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever watch them again. Even with another watch through.. they’re not as well written or directed as other episodes, they’re unbelievable in the cannon of the show and breaks their own rules, not to mention the sheer heartbreak

Bregman is one of the most unlikeable characters in the show. If Simmons had of been alive he could have been in the episode too just to add to the trifecta of cunts!

Cassie should have been at the memorial

they make you think Jack is dead so we won’t worry about janet to what? make it more of a shock? because it doesn’t work. It should never have been designed to make us feel relief at Janet’s death because it wasn’t Jack! It doesn’t do her justice.

Janet Fraiser was a smart woman with a massive heart. She was brave and strong and she cared for everyone even when they were arseholes. She had a bit of fun with SG1 sometimes too. She was an incredible Dr, mother and friend. Janet was tiny but tough. Something that i aim for. I’m 5ft2 so basically the same as Janet and believe it or not i’ve had people question my ability to be a good teacher because noone will take me seriously. Janet always made me feel like people would take me seriously and that even though I’m small, I can do big things. She encouraged me to be a good person with a heart of gold. Her death hits really hard for that reason. but also because she was an incredible character who deserved more than what she was given. Hardly any screen time and then murdered to make some sort of point that didn’t need making??? Not to mention she’s mentioned twice in the next three seasons and when she “comes back” in Ripple Effect she spends almost no time with Sam which makes exactly 0 sense.

Someone recently said they heard she was killed because the writers didn’t know how much more time they had and wanted to wrap some stuff up? Lets not forget that they made the end of this season a huge cliff hanger... but I’m still not sure what we could wrap up with her death? She had a fucking child!

Any way I won’t be watching this again. I’m sorry this isn’t much fun but hopefully you’ve got a giggle out of me swearing at the idiots

I love you all for reading this and supporting me posts, they’re usually pretty fun to make honestly!

#Stargate #Stargate SG1 #SG1: Heroes pt1 #SG1: Heroes pt2 #SG1 #Samantha Carter #Jack O'Neill #Janet Fraiser #Teal'c #Daniel Jackson #Michael Shanks #Teryl Rothery #Christoper Judge #Amanda Tapping #ATapps #Richard Dean Anderson #RDA #mudblood-and-proud watches

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

Note

hey bby ♥️ congrats!!!! can I request made by my own mind lol. anyways can I get a blurb where bad boy! cal takes care of you after a long night at a party. maybe it was at calums friends house and he drove you to his house to stay for a night and you wake up next to him? thanks bby♥️

Chloe, my sweet baby, thank you so much! I’m sorry it took me so long, but i hope this 3k words ‘blurb’ would be enough of an apology. Also, i have no idea why i decided to make it enemies to lover but, oh well, i looove you! ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

This should have been a good night. It was the beginning of summer and you anticipated this party for some time. You had a plan which included a sexy dress, a cute date and a whole night of fun. Instead of fun though, you were getting wasted on your own in some corner thinking how your dress deserved more. How you deserved more than this asshole of a date standing you up.

You huffed in your drink (third? fourth?) and pouted. Could this night get any worse?

“If not that pout, I wouldn’t recognize you,” you heard and realised the night got ten thousand times worse.

“Fuck off, Hood,” you breathed out, tiredness in your voice. The last thing you needed now was one of your famous fights with Calum Hood. You didn’t remember how and why it all started and, probably, no one did. He was a friend of a friend of a friend, you met at some party or maybe some outing and, well, saying it was hatred at the first sight wouldn’t be an exaggeration here. When one was saying something, the other couldn’t help it but quarrel in response. Soon your friends were joking about the passion between the two of you, but even they dropped that at how intransigent your battles were. You two got pretty successful in avoiding each other, but sometimes the Universe still made you bump into him. You knew the Universe has always had wicked sense of humor. But tonight was too low even for her.

“Chill, will you?” he smirked. “Was trying to make a compliment to your dress. It’s a really good-looking dress.”

You looked back at him, sensing the trick in his words.

“You, on the other hand, look just as unpleasant as usual,” he finished with the same smirk on his face.

Yeah, there it was, you thought.

“Thank you,” you replied, downing your drink. (third? fourth? ugh, whatever!)

You saw his smirk disappear. From all of the things you could say back to him, a simple “thank you” was the most unexpected, obviously. You smiled.

“Was afraid the earth and the sky changed place and I somehow missed it, but your last comment proved the world order is fine and the nature is still in balance, so thank you,” you explained, pushed yourself off the wall and started making your way to the kitchen, where all the drinks were.

“Where are you going?” Calum asked, following you.

You didn’t look back at him, so you couldn’t see how serious he looked asking that question.

“To get a refill,” you dropped.

“It was your fourth drink,” he said.

“Great! The fifth should be the lucky one then,” you said, wondering why the heck was he counting your drinks. Was he about to use it to insult you in any way? Your dizzy mind was trying to come up with any better insults than calling you a drunk bitch, but failed. Finally, you gave up. Wants to call you a drunk bitch? You couldn’t care less.

“Maybe you should stop for tonight?” he asked, grabbing your wrist and making you stop and look at him. “Or at least slow down, it’s not even midnight.”

You sighed. “Seriously, Hood, the fuck are you trying to do?”

“I’m just-”

But you didn’t let him finished. “I don’t know what filth you have in mind for me today, but can we already get to the point? Please? So we finish faster and I can go and be drunk and miserable on my own?”

You saw surprise in his eyes and something else, that you couldn’t recognise fast enough. If it wasn’t Calum Hood, you’d say it was offence. But he of all people couldn’t be offended by you. It was just your tipsy mind playing tricks on you.

Calum let go of your wrist and bowed his head jokingly. The next moment he disappeared in the crowd, leaving you feeling even more of an idiot than before.

You lost count again, not sure if the glass in your hand was still the fifth one or already the sixth. Some guy was chatting you up for some time and you were smiling to his lame jokes, thinking that maybe this night won’t be so bad after all if you leave the party with him. He leaned to you a little, stroke your hair, pushing it behind your ear, and said how damn sexy you were.

“Nah, it’s not her who’s sexy, it’s the dress,” the words sounded behind your back. “I mean, just look at that dress. It’s gorgeous. Anyone would look sexy in it. But the girl… Truth to be told, she’s rather average. Nice body, pretty face, yeah, I’d even go so far to say we have some serious ass here, but her character, trust me, is awful. Can’t keep her mouth shut for the dear life! So don’t waste your time, bro, and go find someone else.”

You weren’t surprised with those words. In the time you knew each other Calum said worse things about you. What did surprise you was how the guy looked at Calum and backed off without any other word. You were left there to stare at his back and gape in shock.

“I know I asked this question one too many times,” you started, turning back and meeting with Calum’s satisfied look, “but the fuck is wrong with you, Hood?”

“Oh, come on!” he said, pointing to where the guy disappeared. “You think he was worth it? I just told him you never shut up, which is truth, and he ran away without another word! You can do better, especially in this dress.”

You had no idea what to say to that, so you just stood there and looked back at him, trying to control the anger inside.

“You just need to stop pouting, is all,” Calum added.

“I can pout whenever the fuck I want! And I can fuck whoever the fuck I want!” you hissed, wincing at a strange feeling in your stomach. “And I don’t need your fucking opinion on-”

You had to stop suddenly, you hand flew to your chest.

“Oh, god, no!” Calum sighed and grabbed you.

You had no idea where he was pushing you to, the next thing you saw was bright sink in front of you. He was holding your hair, while the content of your stomach was leaving you. Calum opened the tap and handed you a paper towel as you were finished.

“You actually surprised me,” he said, leaning on the kitchen counter and looking at you. “I thought you’d puke after the sixth glass.”

“It was the sixth glass,” you frowned.

Calum chuckled. “No, it was eighth.”

“Oh,” you said, not having energy for anything else. You felt your knees go weak, fog enveloping your mind. You knew you just needed to lie down for a moment. Just for a moment.

“No, no, no, don’t close your eyes!”

Calum grabbed you by your waist and slapped your cheek lightly, making you open your eyes and look at him.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” you almost moaned, hanging on his arms.

“Believe it or not, slugger, but I don’t want you to end up unconscious and used by some wanker,” he huffed.

“I’m not a slugger, I don’t fight,” you frowned again, unable to stop your eyes from closing again.

“Sure you do, you fight me all the time!”

“Not physically.”

You heard him sighing as you fell on his chest with your head. You hated to admit it, but he smelled nice and his chest was soft. “You almost unconscious and you’re still arguing. You are a slugger.”

You just yawned to that.

“Please, just don’t fall asleep,” he said to your head.

“Just let me go home,” you mumbled, already half-asleep.

“Sure, where do you live?”

“At home.”

Calum grumbled something incoherent and in one sharp move threw you over his shoulder. This sudden change in disposition woke you up again.

“Hey, put me down!” you squealed.

“So you can do what? Fall asleep again?” he quarreled, leaving the house through the back door.

You closed your eyes, partly not to see people’s reaction, partly because watching the ground was making you dizzy again. And then it’s struck you.

“Calum, my dress is too short!”

He huffed. And put his hand right on your ass.

“Stop pawing me!”

“Hey, a moment ago you were worried about your dress being too short! I’m holding it!” he tried to defend himself as he started moving his hand lower on your butt to, as you thought, put it on your legs. But he stopped as his hand was basically holding your left cheek. He was palming your ass now? Were you even drunk enough for that?

“Calum!”

“I’m saving you from some wanker, holding your hair while you’re vomiting, carrying you cause you’re unable to walk and even taking care that no one sees that nice ass of yours. The fuck are you protesting against?” he listed, slowing down and bending to put you back on your feet.

You stood, feeling your knees go weak again, but found it in yourself to meet his cocky smile.

“You’re a dick,” you said.

He just smiled wider and opened the car door for you. “Can you get inside or shall I help you with that too?”

You didn’t even try to roll your eyes on him, too drunk and tired for that now. You climbed on the passenger seat, Calum sighing behind your back at, probably, your clumsiness. The seat, soft and warm, felt heavenly. You heard him asking you not to fall asleep, as he climbed in and started the car, but you were already on your way to the dream land.

The next thing you knew, Calum was carrying you, again. And god knows where. It was dark and every his step produced an echo.

“Are you gonna kill me?” you mumbled.

“Tempting, but no. I’d like my house to stay a corpse free territory.”

“We’re at your house?” you shrieked in utter shock. “Why are we in your house?”

“Because I have no idea where your house is and you were unconscious,” Calum explained patiently.

“But I can’t be at your house! You’re a dick!” you continued in the same over-agitated tone of an excited three years old kid.

“No, I’m not,” he sighed.

“Yes, you are! And you don’t like me!”

He took a deep breath and stopped. You felt yourself being put on your legs again, more carefully this time.

“That’s debatable too. Can you stand here like that for two minutes?”

You just nodded, not fully aware of what on earth was happening and if you dreamed it all or not. Calum turned on a table lamp and disappeared behind some door. You looked around what was probably a bedroom, as you found a king size bed behind you. It looked so comfortable, that you couldn’t actually keep yourself from it. You took off your shoes, slipped out of your dress and took the first step towards this wonderfully looking bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ, y/n!” you heard behind yourself.

“What?” you asked, turning back to him.

He was looking at you, shaking his hand, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re going to kill me tomorrow, but that’s so worth it,” he said, his sight sliding down your body.

“I was going to sleep,” you explained. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re almost naked in my bedroom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agreed, finally moved his eyes off you, looked around and picked up one of his tees lying right on the floor. “Here, wear this.”

“Why?”

“Just fucking take it and wear it!” he growled at you.

You shrugged, took the tee, then looked down your body again. You actually hated sleeping in bra. You sighed, squeezed his shirt between your thighs and took off your bra.

“For fuck’s sake!” you heard Calum breathe out. You looked up at him, he was standing with his back to you now, his hands on his face. You shrugged, not really getting the reaction, and put his shirt on.

“You done?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, looking around perplexedly, thinking where you could put your bra. You dress was lying on the floor, but you really liked that bra.

Calum came up to you, took your bra out of your hands and threw it to the armchair in the corner. Then he took your hand and pushed you to the bathroom. It was big and bright. Too bright for your taste. You squinted as Calum grabbed you around your waist and sat you on the countertop. Took some tissues and the bottle with something looking like a micellar water and asked you to close your eyes.

“If I close them, i’ll fall asleep again,” you warned him.

He laughed, “Actually, sleeping you’re obviously less dangerous for my sanity.”

“I’m dangerous for your sanity?” you asked, feeling wet cloth on your face. The sensation was so refreshing and his hand was surprisingly delicate. He didn’t answer your last question, but in a minute you weren’t already sure there was a question at all. You were too busy basking in his tender touch. Who knew Calum fucking Hood could be so…

“You said I was average,” you remembered suddenly.

“What?” he didn’t understand what you were talking about.

“At a party,” you explained. “You said to the guy I was average.”

He didn’t answer anything again.

“Do you really think I’m average?”

“No, y/n, I don’t think that,” he admitted quietly.

“Then why did you say it? It wasn’t really nice.”

“I said it because I didn’t like the guy and the way he was flirting to you,” Calum said, his voice calm and steady. “That was rude of me, but it was basically the first thing I came up with. Don’t know what is it in you that always pulls the worst out of me.”

You had no idea what to say to that. So you just sat there, while he was taking your makeup off.

“You’re good,” he informed you quietly in a couple of minutes and helped you off the countertop. “Will you make it to the bed?”

You nodded again and trode back into the bedroom.

Surprisingly, you were still awake when he left the bathroom and turned off the light.

“Y/n?” he whispered in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be a room next door,” he said and moved to the door.

You had no idea where this came from, registered the words after they actually left you. But it was too late to take them back. “Can you stay, please?”

“What?”

You turned on your back to see his silhouette and repeated. “Stay here, please. Don’t wanna be alone.”

You heard his heavy sigh. Then he turned to the bed, took off his shoes and climbed on, lying over the covers.

“Why are you so sweet to me?” you asked a minute later.

“Maybe I’m not sweet to you. Maybe I’m just not as much of a dick as you thought.”

“That’s unlikely,” you smiled, hearing his chuckle.

You two didn’t say anything else, just closed your eyes and let your agitated minds drift away.

Waking up was painful and pleasant at the same time. The first thing you felt was your headache. You were ready to swear you’ve never had such awful headache in your life. But you also could feel the smell of the rain, which was one of your favourite smells. You slowly opened your eyes. Then you yelled. Then you sat up. Then you understood you were barely clothed. Then Calum woke up, because you hit him with the pillow.

“The fuck are you doing?” he grumbled, grabbing the pillow from your hand and closing his eyes again.

“Why am I in your bed?” you asked in search of at least some answers. The memories of last night coming at you in wawes. The date that never showed up, cocktails, some guy, vomiting in someone’s kitchen.

Calum opened his eyes and looked as you were remembering what you could.

“You were drunk,” he stated simply.

“Yeah, I got it,” you breathed out. “Why did I-” you tried to ask, then stopped yourself, then decided to finish, “Why did I get undressed?”

“I had no idea, but fully enjoyed it,” the fucker informed you, the smirk you hated so much on his face.

“Can you give me the pillow back?”

“So you could hit me again? Nah, I don’t think so.”

You sighed. After all, it wasn’t his fault you were so drunk that started taking your clothes off in front of him. He helped you, took care of you, let you stay in his house. You sighed again.

“I promise not to hit you,” you said.

He looked at you again, his eyes full of doubt, and handed you the pillow.

You lied down on your side, facing his closed eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For taking care of me.”

Calum chuckled. “Any time. You’re actually funny when you’re so drunk. And I know I already said your dress was terrific, but, damn, that underwear was even better.”

You tried to fight it, but you couldn’t help smiling to that.

Calum yawned and said, “Give me five more minutes and I’ll cook some breakfast, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, not caring for breakfast at all, fascinated by the half-sleeping man in front of you and wondering how this strange night would change things between the two of you.

***

tagging some people cause this is a full size one shot lol (feel free to ignore): @myloverboyash, @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @calumamongmen, @post-traumatic-mess, @empathycth, @calpops, @talkfastang, @cthoodsthetic, @singt0mecalum, @i-calumhood, @5saucewho, @gorgeouslygrace

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #calum hood fic #5sos fic #my blurb #500 followers celebration blurbs #my writing #requests #asks #rip-lukes-balsamic

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peggysousfan · 4 years

Text

Agent Carter An Au Series

Soooo you know that thing I said about making these chapters shorter... that was a lie lol Its actually the longest by far,3000+ words, but episode 1 is almost done with. It is very angsty, so you have been warned, but there is some fluff thrown in there. Enjoy!!

Peggys' POV:

The next morning I wake the same as yesterday, only a little earlier. I get up and shower, nurse poppet and get ready for work. Colleen is still ill, so shes still asleep. I leave her a note to make sure she eats and to drink some water. As I leave the building I see Daniel. Hes already down stairs, most likely heading to work.

"Daniel!" He stops in his tracks and turns around.

"Hey! You're up early. I thought you weren't meant to be at the office till 9?"

"Yes, I know, but I have to drop the little one off. I can't exactly take her to work with me." He laughs, and it seems like music to my ears... Stop, Peggy. Not now. "Uhm, wh-what are you doing up so early? Do you have to in the office at 8?" He chuckles.

"Uh, no I was just gonna go get a bite to eat."

"Oh."

"Do you want to join me?" I look at Stephanie, and then at him.

"How far is it from here?"

"Just up the road, I was headed to the Automat."

"Oh, well thats not far at all. I can always drop Steph off afterwards." He nods his head and smiles. We makes our way there and Angie comes to our table.

"Hey, English! Whos this you got with ya?" I laugh.

"Good Morning, Angie. This is Daniel a ...friend of mine. And this is Stephanie." As to announce her presence she starts cooing and giggling. I hesitate on friends, but I don't know why. We are friends, but I suppose I may want to be more...No. Peggy, stop. Stop. Right now.

"Awww shes so precious!!!" After a few moments of admiring the baby, she takes our orders. Once she leaves Steph begs for Daniel and starts to fuss for him. Which isn't the first time either. Once when Daniel was at work, she went the whole day crying and only settled down once she was held by him. Shes so attached, its absolutely adorable.

"Aww, come here little anjo." I hand her over to him and I can't help myself but to ask.

"What does that mean, Daniel? anjo?" He looks down at the baby, with an embarrassed smile on his face.

"Sorry I didn't realize I was... It means angel, in Portuguese."

"Oh theres no need to apologize, I was only curious. You say certain words to her or about her and I never understood them." He furrows his brow and I explain. "Well anjo, for starters, and then... linda..?" He laughs and its so contagious.

"Its not what you think. Linda isn't meant as in, thats her name. It means beautiful." I smile brightly at him as Steph starts giggling again and plays with his tie. When our food arrives we eat, but all to soon we finish. "Okay, I better head to the office before they saying anything." I nod my head and embrace him. I reach over and fix his tie. "Oh oops, I forgot she did that."

"Sorry, it was bothering me." We laugh. "I'll see you at work." When I drop off poppet, I head to the office and its busy. Everyone is working on finding Howard, and I'm not entirety sure if I want them to. Selling weapons to enemy states is not something he would do. But its not as if I can talk to him and ask for his side of the story. The whole day is filled with nothing but 'Carter file these reports' or "Carter get the lunch orders ready' or 'hey sweetheart the coffee needs to be refilled'. Ugh, I'm not a bloody secretary, I'm a federal Agent and should be treated as such. Imbeciles. I leave the office and take dinner orders for those staying late, then I return and have sometime to myself. I miss Steph, but I could use some time away from the pig headed men at working and a crying baby. I read the paper as I sit in my booth. There a picture of Steve, and an article about Howard.

"I met him once at a USO show in Passaic, you could eat him with a spoon." A shiver runs down my spine at that thought. No thank you, Angie, you can keep him.

"Yes, I understand he was quite something." I put down the paper and look at my tea. Quite an arse, more like...

"You alright English?"

"Fine Angie, just work."

"Fellas at the phone company giving you a hard time?" She asks, understand exactly what its like to be put down by her own colleges.

"No more than usual, it just... during the war I had a sense of purpose, responsibility. But now It feels like I'm connecting the call but I never get the chance to make them. Do you see what I mean?" She looks around and then sits across from me.

"I had an audition today, uptown, Took two trains and they gave me the hook. I guess I ain't. But we all gotta pay our dues. Even if it takes a while. You've got talent, its only a matter of time before Broadway call."

"I'm afraid I can't carry a tune," I say carrying on our little metaphor.

"Doesn't matter when you got legs like yours." And I laugh. A man starts to complain and be a real wanker, apparently hes a regular customer, and he treats Angie horrible. Ugh, men. Angie leaves and I get up to get a slice of pie. When I return theres a note 'Meet in the Alley in 5 minutes' Odd. I eat my pie and head out the back door. When I do, I'm confronted by a man in a hat, it turns out to be Jarvis; but hes not alone. A car revs its engine and I run, but when I reach a door, its locked. I pull out my gun and shoot the tire; and out pops Howard.

"I know, I should've called. Did ya miss me?" Oh this oaf is going t be the death of me. Jarvis changes the tire, and we ride away to the docks.

Howard explains he had a vault that was broken into, and someone cleaned out all of his deadly inventions. He asks me to spy for him, to catch the person who stole his weapons, and clear his name.

"Howard, you're asking me to become a traitor in order to prove you're not one, you do see the irony?"

"Oh c'mon on, Peg. I know they're not using you right over there." Well hes not wrong. God I hate it when hes right. "You want a mission that matter, this is it. My technology in the hands of the next nut that wants to be the new Red Skull... You have no idea how bad that could be. And right now, you're the only one who can stop that." I look over at him, and already know I'm in over my head, but none the less he is my friend. We get out of the car and walk on the docks. "Some of them have already been sold overseas, thats where I'm going. But the rest are here somewhere, and thats where you come in. Rumor is one of the nasty ones is hitting the black market in the next day or two."

"What is it?"

"Just a piece of paper. My formula for molecular nitromene. This much could level a city block." He takes my hand and balls it in a fist. "And I'm not talking small ones, I'm talking avenues."

"I'm going to regret this aren't I?" He says I will and tells me about Jarvis.

"I owe ya one, pal." We hug and he gets on the boat. "There are only a dozen fences that can handle something this hot, and you just gotta learn which one... and I figured, you'd have no trouble finding a man."

"The trick is finding the right one." He drives away and Jarvis takes me to my daughter. Once I have her, I head home and get some rest.

The Next Day:

Peggy's POV:

I wake up early in the morning, same as yesterday, and do my morning routine. I can't wait until this weekend, Ill keep my promise to Howard, but I won't neglect time with my daughter. Here lately shes been very vocal, and I know its too early, but I fell as if shes trying to say her first word. My only fear is that I may never hear it because I'm working... Balancing motherhood and work is a real pain in the arse. I nurse her her breakfast and lay her down. Since Colleen is home, she has offered to take care of her while I'm at work.

"Try and not work too hard, Peg." I kiss Stephanie's cheek one last time before giving her to Colleen.

"I won't I promise. Now you two get some rest. I'll be back before I'm gone." And with that I leave. When I enter the office, I notice Daniel, and he has a set of photos of Howard, one with him on a boat; oh no. Oh I don't want to do this. I swear if my relationship with Daniel is harmed in anyway because of Howard, I'm going to kill him.

"You know you are expect to go home at night." I say. He looks at me confused and then chuckles.

"I know, but most fugitive cases are solved within the fist 72 hours. And with Stark on the sailing into the sunset, maybe this is where it starts." Hes really invested in this case. I know its only to impress the Chief and make his worth known, but God I wish it wasn't this case. I say what I can to throw Daniel off of Howard's trail. I tell him Howard hates they water, and about the time I knocked him into the Thames because he tried to kiss me on VE Day. Soon I notice Thompson and others rushing to the conference room, they've had a small break on one of Howard's inventions.

"Somethings up."

"Yeah, Thompson's working on his next medal. Got word of a fence trying to sell one of Stark's inventions. Club owner named Spider Ramon."

"Wheres it happening?"

"Need to know only. Kind of gives you a warm feeling, doesn't it." How can I get into that private meeting, and withdraw information without them knowing...? I have an Idea.

"Can I get you a refill?" I quickly grab Daniels mug and rush to get the coffee pot. I try to shake of the electricity running through my hand where we touched. I give him his refill off of a tray.

"Uhmmm.. Thanks?" I give him a small smile and head into the room.

I look over at a file while filling up the cups, when suddenly the chief speaks. I tell him I'm unwell, and that its 'lady's things', Oh its so amusing to see grown men squirm. I take the rest of the day off and go shopping and then head home. I quickly hide the bag with the dress and wig, before Colleen sees. When I enter, I see shes asleep, and so is Steph. Oh my little one. I pick her up and she snuggles against my chest. I kiss the top of her curly brown head and let her rest against me. I read more on Spider Ramon and his club, and after a while, she squirms around, so I let her look at the files. Shes so interested in words, its quite amusing.

Before I know it, night has fallen. I nurse her and lay her back down then I get ready to leave. She didn't eat much, Colleen must have fed her earlier. As I enter the club, its bustling with music, dancers, cocktails, and photographers. Damn. I hide my face as I make my way through. A man come up to me and asks for a dance, but I turn him down. Then I notice a man head up stairs, and a bodyguard below. Thats where I need to go. I persuade the man to let me pass and I put on my Sweet Dream lipstick, just in case. I knock on the door and peek in.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ramon, is this a bad time?" I ask in a perfect American accent.

"We'll only know after its over. Bring the rest of you in here." He says as he sets down a book.

"I hope you don't find me forward."

"Oh I'm not the judgmental type."I enter the room and try to play calm and innocent, admiring small things on the desk after, I close the side doors.

"I know you're in possession of a certain chemical formula." He drops his collective, flirty, act and gets defensive, and tries to send me away. "Its okay, lets make this a game. You seem like you might like games." I sit on the edge of his desk. I tell him I have some fiends who would be interested in buying it, and he goes along with it. I sit on his lap and go along with my story, asking if he has it on him.Instead of answering, he gets flirty and kisses me. Someone opens the door but closes again, apparently not wanting to 'disturb' his boss. Raymond falls back in the chair, knocked out. "Well that was premature."I look around the room and find a safe. When I use my watch to crack it, I see a small glowing orb inside. Oh no... I hurry and call Jarvis.

"Jarvis residence."

"They've weaponized it." I say plainly. I'm sort of in a hurry here, Mr. Jarvis.

"Ms. Carter?"

"Do you know anyone else handling high explosives at this time of night?" I snap.

Basically, if anything touches the core or gives it a small crack, boom. Lovely. I hurry along and place it in my bag. I have to create a cocktail of sodium hydrogen acetate to deactivate it. If I don't its likely to explode and kill hundreds. Delightful, just delightful. As I get ready to leave, the man comes back and sees his boss passed out.

"What?" He starts to come in and advance at me, but I stop him. I take a stapler form the table and drag him into a closet. Dammit. Thompson and the others are already here. I find the man that had approached me before, and danced to keep the Agents from seeing me. Quickly I leave and head home.

"Peg? Is that you?" Damn I quickly throw off the wig and enter the room.

"Hey. I just changed Steph and she went right back to sleep. Shes does that a lot when you're not around." I smile at her and see how pale she is.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little better, still have a fever though.."

"I'll make you some tea." I walk over to the stove and set the water to boil in the kettle.

"Wow, Peg, you look like a million bucks. Wait... Did you go out, out?"

"In a manner of speaking." I walk closer.

"Wow, I'm really proud of you. I want you to tell me all about it, in the morning." She turns over and goes back to sleep, poor girl. I peek at poppet before changing, grabbing everything I need for the sodium hydrogen acetate, and then head to the bathroom with the bomb. If any harm overcomes to my child, I'll come back from the dead and haunt Howard to the end of his days. I mix up the solution and poor out my perfume, and replace it. As I pull out the core, it hits she shell. Bloody hell. I rush and spray it before it blows. Thankfully its diffused. I put everything under the sink and breath a sigh. I get ready to take a drink of whiskey, that is, until I hear a crash.

"Colleen?" I get up and hurry into the room. "Colleen." I rush over to the bed and pull back the covers, and I stop dead in my tracks. A bullet hole is lodged in the middle of her forehead. No...no no no!! I look around and see Stephanie, and shes starting to cry. Cautious I glance at my surroundings, and I see him, right behind me in the mirror. I quickly turn around and kick him in the groin, but the guns goes off. Thank God it didn't hit the baby, but it was only by a few feet. Now I'm pissed. I take the gun and hit him right upside the head. Advancing further I grab his arm and upper cut his face. Stephanie is now sobbing her little heart out. For a second I'm distracted, and he takes advantage. He punches me, and I fall back, then pushes me into the wall. He tries to punch me again, but I open the fridge door and he hits it instead. With his forearm on my throat I grab at him, and notice a scar on his throat. Odd...

I elbow him on the side of his head, and take advantage. We twist and turn, and he grabs my arm and holds my head above the stove's flame. Steph is now sobbing, no doubt waking everyone in the building. I gather up my strength and kick him in the chin and force his hand into the flame. He releases an attempted scream while I take an iron skillet and hit him. He falls back and advances with a knife. Luckily I use the skillet and prevent my stomach from being sliced. Poppet continues to scream and he looks at her with a menacing smirk. Oh I don't think so! I hit him again and again and toss him out the window. When I look down, hes gone. Dammit. I rush over to the baby and pick her up to sooth her. "Shhhh... Shhhh... Its alright my love." I bounce her up and down, and then notice Colleen. I starts to cry myself and sit on the bed. This wasn't suppose to happen. I'm so caught up in my own sobbing, and Steph's, that I don't hear the door being knocked on; or it opening.

"Peg!" Daniel rushes over to me and places a hand on my cheek. "Peggy whats wro-" He stops and notices Colleen. "Oh my God..." I look away from her and hold my little girl close to me. This could have been her, and it almost was...At this thought, I only cry harder. He doesn't ask what happened, instead he holds me tight and takes us to his apartment. He takes me to his room and I lie down with Stephanie. I can't believe I almost lost her....I look into Daniels eyes as he stands at the door. I grab for his hand and he takes it, and hes the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #agent carter #agent carter series #au fanfic #fanfiction

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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Lol I'm not reading that entire novella of a wank post. In any case, ublock origin and ghostery work on tumblr so nah, sorry, you only get 2 cents from me, not 10.

“I literally refuse to read what I’m pretending to be righteously angry about because I fundamentally know my entire position is based on my wilfull ignorance and refusal to admit I’m the assbag who is physically incapable of controlling myself from attacking someone in their own space or spreading absolute horse shit in DM” and pretending I’m the wanker here. Get a god damn life.

(Edit update: at the bottom it’s kinda become transparent that the person at the heart of it is sending all the anons complete with geolock so lmao fuck off with your ridiculous shit. This post has been truncated to focus on the new data)

The fucking hilarity that your heads are crammed SO thoroughly up your asses that you can’t tell the difference between “someone having a strong opinion you don’t like in their own space” and “multiple people relentlessly besieging all of their social media and trying to undercut years-long friendships in petty wrath by manipulating a conversation for a weeks long grudgewank they’ve been telling you to stop, but we value fractal emotional validation rather than the complete reality of the situation that would realistically make us the harassing assbags, so as long as we stay ignorant and refuse to ask for it, because the same person is only supplying it on request to still try to not over-damage the guilty party who refuses the same human dignity to the person they’re targeting, we’re innocent somehow!”, while you fucking T-pose out there about y’all being bullied. Like, how does your own bullshit taste, or have you already cleared your colon and started passing up past your trachea again?

Has it even remotely occurred to you that 0 people are coming for any of you, despite weeks of this, but you’re still collectively coming at me? Do you even care? No, you don’t.

What a fascinating self-demonstrating display of the very conversation that set this all off, about this fandom’s addiction to arguing for validation rather than accepting content or moving on, and engineered clout wars. Keep goin.

Oh and by the way.

If you’re going to try to pretend you’re innocent here, and that you aren’t sending your own vicious anons, at least use a VPN, jesus christ.

Yeah no, you want me to put it on public blast so you can try to victim pose again. But I’ll just defer readers to you attacking living circumstances outside of my control. No wonder you never showed up in my inbox, Nonnie. Because you’re not a Nonnie, you’re just the person causing this.

Oh wow look how many times you’ve spammed my inbox and hopped to the replies just to pick new fights

Hop off my dick, sis. Like I can literally SEE your ass stalking my blog

So I’m going to point out that service provider BT has a line in their terms of service "Respecting other people’s views, and their right to express them freely", which forbids users from promoting or threatening violence, abusing or harassing anyone, or encouraging hate. Extra points to BT for putting their policy in plain English.

Send me one more fucking anon and see what happens.

Nice screen resolution tho.

(14 hour later update: Oh wow look at that no new assbag anons from that location! GOOD ON YOU. A literal record of you leaving me the fuck alone after two weeks of your shit, not minding the DMs I’m actively hearing about of you still snaking around. No, proxying it through a friend isn’t gonna stop that. If this doesn’t immediately terminate in the next 24 hours, I will be contacting your service provider. While I’m unclear on the limitations on pressing charges for harassment and slander internationally, I’m very clear on the ability to make them turn off your internet. But should they provide me any advice on the former, I will gladly accept it.)

#mildew

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thestudyfeels · 5 years

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Why Celebrities Are Worth More Than You

Before I dive (copy that? Because this post is gonna be so deep? Edit: I’ll take Jesus and one litre of bleach, thank you) into this storm of revelations, ANNOUNCEMENT!!! This is the first post in a series where I go all in on a particular topic and dig up hidden nuggets of wisdom from it. In other words, I rant. Hard.

Why am I blessing you with this goodness?

This entire series boils down to improving your mindset. You’ve probably heard the legend that in the Solomon Islands, villagers practiced an, ahem, unique form of logging. If a tree was too large to be felled with an ax, the natives withered down the tree by cursing it for weeks. That’s the idea behind this series: repetition. The PRIMARY reason why I win a lot, is because I am a perennial liar and I won't take a no for my dreams. If I want to have ‘x’ trait, I’ll lie and say I have ‘x’ trait till I do have ‘x’ trait.

This is also known as the Reality Distortion Field, popularised by Steve Jobs. “Steve Jobs’s “reality distortion field” was a personal refusal to accept limitations and to convince himself that any difficulty was surmountable. This “field” was so strong that he was able to convince others that they, too, could achieve the impossible. It was an internal reality so powerful it also became an external reality.” (x)

The catch? The distortion field, and mindset in general, works MAJORLY through repetition. So I don't care if you think you’re the biggest, saddest wanker around, I’m going to drum into your ears that you’re a star and trust me, by the end of this series, every constellation out there will be pining for you.

So tea, I’M ON FIRE TODAY, so if you have a coffee (tea?) to drink, some time to invest on yourself, and a sturdy ol’ cerebrum to upgrade, then join in and watch out for this series (Letters From Solomon Islands, WHATTUP) on your dashboards. My people already know that the how-to’s are clickbait anyway (Coughs, chokes on the shade.)

Why We Adore Our Celebs

The other day I was stalking Tom Hiddleston in my bathroom (please don't use your imagination) and exactly one day ago I had been stalking Billie Eilish in there (yes nosy Eric, I'm bi, but again, don’t get carried away) and there was an interview talking about her rise to fame, and THAT, fellow denizens, got me wondering: Why do we have celebrities? (A profound question Nandini, you’ve done us proud.)

Before you spit something political like “capitalism!”, put down that crochet pattern for a sec. Close your eyes (welcome to woke therapy, ayo), and I want you to envision one of your role models- the people you look up to and would DIE if you get a chance to meet them. The icons you stalk excessively on Insta and have all the notifs on for. No, Sally, your crush on Zac Efron’s abs doesn't count. Sorry to crush your hopes.

Second, consider WHY you love this person so much. It could be anyone - an actor, influencer *smirks*, singer, that hot man down the street who helped you pick up your groceries that one time because you’re clumsy- yup, anyone. Now, trap that love here, in these pages, as you read. (Oh Sally, here’s toilet paper and a cookie, stop sniffling.)

Here’s some foreshadowing: In a nutshell, ‘celebrities’ exist because the rest of us are— excuse us, politically incorrect statement coming through— losers. Or better put, because we can't become ‘celebrities’ ourselves. Don’t run in with your frying pan just yet, James, I’ll do a thorough deconstruction. Stay put and listen up:

Look around and you’ll find that most of the citizenry is living a life for others. Whether subconsciously, or consciously, it’s as if we’re pre-programmed to imitate and copy whatever the herd is up to. “Yo, whatcha up to, Nate, you out partying? I’ll see you in ten then.” “Lol, are you living under a rock? Do you seriously not know what Uggs are?” “I mean… yeah, I hate Justin Bieber too, of course I do.”

And that's not our fault, really. Society briefs us on the ground rules of fitting in pretty early on: get good grades, go to college, try to find a nice paying job– and we do it, like unquestioning muppets helpless in its domineering hands.

Because we all know the ramifications that’ll crop up if we don’t. If anyone even dares to be a bit different, they’re freezed out and ridiculed. They’re slapped with labels such as “insane”, “naive”, “misfit”, or the best one yet - “selfish”. Selfish for living true to themselves. Selfish for hustling hard and making THEIR dreams a reality. Selfish for having the courage to put their own desires before society’s. What. A. Big. Yawn. I’m sleeping on y’all.

And that’s precisely where celebs beat us to the finish line.

Look, these ‘acclaimed’ personalities bubble up because most are afraid to be the most bona fide and best version of themselves. It’s much easier to plop on the couch, switch on the TV, and say, “Man, I could do that any day. And prob better too,” while trying to pick up the remote control with your two toes because you’re too comfy to get up right now.

Your role models, idols, and mentors – the entire bulk of these people have a willpower and fortitude that you could only dream of. They’ve hunted down their fears and faced numerous challenges to follow their dreams. They’ve chosen to remain true to their authentic selves even under constant judgment. Sure, they were all called eccentrics and crazy at one point or another, but— ok no, (edit: wow, I had a mood swing here, lmao) they ARE eccentrics. They ARE crazy. Wild for wanting to change the world. Mad for inspiring millions of people. They’re lunatics who had the audacity to dream big, shed the shells of doubt and insecurity, and dared to live their best life.

Moral of the story is: Celebrities, pop stars, and internet personalities aren’t just people who got lucky and wealthy. They had a special kind of fearlessness and self-awareness to get here, qualities worth examining for yourself.

So here’s your mental workout for this post —

Go and ruminate deeply about what makes you love the people you admire. What do they have or do that you want as well? Is it their spontaneity? Their courage and faith? Or is it their kindness and humanity? Or perhaps most importantly, their passion? Have you fallen in love with their excitement to go to work or does your heart melt at the gratitude they show others?

Find out what it is that makes your eyes sparkle and the corners of your lips turn up when you look at them. It is easier to find what you’d love to do from what others are doing than brainstorm on an empty page. *Sally looks up from the corner* “And then what?” *Me, smiles, sensing the crazy philo rant coming ahead* “And then, Sally dear, you live.”

The next step is a big one. You do what THEY did. If they’re passionate, YOU learn to become devoted to your dreams as well. If they don’t give up, you NEVER STRAY either.

You see, we have it in all of us to become great. And we can start wherever we are. Jen Sincero, an author and coach, put it well: “It’s not your fault you’re fucked up, BUT it is your fault if you stay fucked up.” So start where you are. Start NOW. Follow the advice Will gave to Louisa in his departing letter in Me Before You (I’m a soppy romcom fanatic) – “There is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do… so live boldly. Push yourself. Don’t settle. Just live well. Just LIVE.”

Love, the world isn’t as scary as we’ve all grown up to think it is. Passion, kindness, faith and magic breathes among us. You’re not a loser, darling, scribble over that insult so it says “lover”, and heal, knowing that the world awfully, I give you my word of honor (still an 18th century woman, y’all), wants you to win.

And I? I’ll be right here waiting for the day when there’ll be no such demarcation of people as “winners” or “suckers”; just conquerors with big hearts and unbreakable faith, all ready to make that small life count.

Go win.

The End Card That Rambles On And Plugs Even More

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last post: 13 Lessons from the 2018 Chapter

if you don’t love yourself, read this. please.

+ Want to request a post? Leave your request in my ask box & I’ll get back to you asap!

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure having you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I’d suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

I post new posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you’re into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I’ll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it’s a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you’re pretending to be deaf, but Mom’s yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you’re well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I’m sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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the-detectives-blogger · 5 years

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I’m really...fucking upset, and I”m honestly not sure where to rant about this, so I’ll just rant about it here, and hope that somebody hears me, someone listens.

So I’m in a bunch of Facebook groups, mainly for the memes and the amusing tagging that goes on. I don’t participate except in a select few - and I mean a really select few, ones where I feel safe contributing at all. Mainly Jewish groups actually, with other Jewish women in them, talking about our lives, worries, politics, tips for making challah bread, prayers for each other. It’s really nice. <3

The other groups, the meme groups, there’s a lot of bullies in there, I don’t mind having them for tagging purposes but I’ve been doxxed online before and it nearly killed me. I mean that literally, I fell into such a deep dark hole of...uber depression...didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t move, not for months. It was bad. It was really, really, really fucking bad. And I get triggered easily about it. Less easily now, thank God, baruch Hashem, it’s been a few years, but it’s not the type of thing you ever really forget. When the internet trolls rip out your heart and post it everywhere for all to see, with your face and your full name, calling you a cunt and a weeaboo and - it was bad.

Anyway.

So I don’t participate in the bullying/memeing groups. But I’m on steroids this week, because I have chronic sciatica pain - the sciatica nerve is the one at the base of your spine, and for people like me for whom it’s pinched, it flares up and the pain is indescribable. A lot of the pain comes from inflammation and OTC meds weren’t cutting it so my very helpful doctor put me on steroids to kill the inflammation. Which is working, yay! But the steroids, being steroids, lol, are definitely also making me more aggressive than usual and more prone to snap, less patient. I’m doing my best with it but it’s steroids, they do what they do in my body, my brain.

All this brings us to last night. I was kind of out of my mind on the nightly steroid dose, browsing Facebook, and I come across a post. The group is a bisexuality-focused group, an identity I..identify with, lol. I have to paraphrase this since I didn’t grab screenshots, but as best I can remember it:

OP: Real talk. Can we talk about how WEIRD it is that some people are only attracted to ONE GENDER?! Like??? Look at Blake Lively. Look at Robert Downey Jr. Are you honestly telling me you wouldn’t fuck them both given the chance??? Poster 1: This is uh - this is kind of homophobic? Aren’t you erasing the identities and experiences of lesbians and gay men? They have to struggle hard to be accepted as well. OP: Psh NO, are you serious rn?? Are you saying I’m heterophobic which doesn’t exist lmao??? Poster 1: No, I’m saying you’re being homophobic, like, gay men also exist and shouldn’t be forced to be into women if they’re not. OP: Well if you’re offended, I’m sorry, but you’re choosing to feel that way. That’s on you. If you choose to see that in what I wrote, I can’t help that, if you’re offended. Me: Uh. Look, I don’t know if I want to get involved in the rest of the debate here but saying “I’m sorry if you’re offended” is an abuse tactic. You’re victim blaming Poster 1, saying that it’s on them if you hurt them...it’s not. It’s on you. Don’t victim blame people, that’s super not okay. OP: I didn’t say ‘I’m sorry if you’re offended’ I said ‘If you’re offended, I’m sorry’. Huge difference. Me: There is literally no difference. OP: There is a massive difference. Admin flying in: Nobody’s victim blaming :[. [OP puts a ‘love’ react on this post because now they feel supported by authority...in their fucking victim blaming and abuse tactics.] OP: I just said people can be bisexual. Admin: Yeah I’m not going to prevent people talking about bisexuality in a bisexuality group. Me: This has nothing to do with the sexualities in question, it’s a question of how we’re talking to one another, treating one another, and of mental illness questions. You were victim blaming OP, and if you’re offended, that’s on you. :) OP: I wasn’t victim blaming tho. Admin: like this is a bisexual group and we’re here to talk about being bisexual [OP+admin are at this point ‘loving’ each other’s fucking posts ove rand over and over again, supporting each other and growing FUCKING stronger, making me feel more and more alone and backed into a goddamn corner] Me: Okay. Whatever. I fucking give up. I’m not going to fight you, OP. You did a bad thing but if you don’t want to own it, that’s on you. You still have to treat people well regardless of their sexuality. have a good night. The fucking thread proceeded without me. I deleted my comments, super done and not wanting to be doxxed again, thinking, like, this is why I don’t fucking get involved, it never fucking works, standing up for the fucking little guy doesn’t work, standing up for people’s rights not to be FUCKING ABUSED doesn’t work, let alone her extremely clear homophobia, but The Admin Has Spoken so clearly I lose. If Authority is against you it’s hard to fucking win.

I messaged that admin just asked if she could take down the comments where my name is tagged; I deleted the ones I posted but I don’t want my name on this bullshit anymore.

Woke up this morning. Not only have I been booted and blocked from the fucking group, the admin wrote me back to say “I'm fine with editing it out of my comments, I'm not deleting everyones because they tagged you. I will let them know you are requesting and why.”

BITCH

THAT STILL

INVOLVES

MY FUCKING

NAME

YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING BLOODY MORON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So not only am I now having a fucking triggered fucking panic attack BECAUSE OF FUCKING YOU, because you don’t care about mental illness or triggers or abuse or PTSD, just about your little meme group, I can’t do anything about it or see it, you’ve made me fucking powerless by banning me from the group YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FIRST Of ALL, YES that girl was being fucking homophboic. Okay??? Saying “omg other sexualities are so weird” isn’t HEPLFUL, it isn’t KIND or COMPASSIONATE or UNDERSTANDING. Straight people and gay people and lesbians really! do! exist! and are only attracted to one gender. Bisexual people also really! do! exist! and are attracted to multiple genders. But nobody gets to say that the other sexualities are fucking ‘weird’ or unacceptable in any way.

SECONDLY, if you don’t keep in fucking mind the way you’re fucking speaking to people while you’re doing leftist shit, fuck you. Intersectionality says that we all exist as multiple identities all at once, we’re not just one thing or the other, o fucking kay? I am not merely bisexula, I’m also an abuse survivor, a PTSD sufferer, depression and anxiety and physical disability. For fuck’s sake. MY SEXUALITY IS NOT THE ONLY ASPECT OF MY IDENTITY THAT MATTERS. YOU COCK.

And if you’re triggering me it’s the part of my identity that suddenly matters least, because you’re triggering the parts of me that will take over the others, so FUCK YOU, YOU ABSOLUITE WANKER ASSHOLE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCKYOUFUCK YOU FUC YOU FYCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay. I just...I just needed to fucking vent. Jesus bloody christ.

We cannot exist in leftist circles and spaces without keeping in mind how we speak to people, how we treat people. We cannot call ourselves leftists, liberal, if we trade in compassion for sexual identity. You do not get to check your humanity at the door when you pick up a bisexual pride flag. You do not get to leave your understanding behind. And I will call you on it forever, and ever, and ever, because I do not hold with hypocrites, or abusers, no matter what flag they fly.

#ooc #rant

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yaz-the-spaz · 6 years

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when did reality become tv

so by [un]popular demand here is my trashy reality tv ziam/ziall au

i’m so sorry for this y’all...

Summary: Wherein the boys go on a trashy daytime reality show hosted by none other than James Corden to sort out their problems.

(Or, throw in your favorite boys, James Corden, messy love triangles and cheating scandals, and some dumb shit posts on tumblr and this is what you get)

A/N: Title from 1985 by Bowling for Soup; inspired by that 1d day shit post where Niall and Zayn look like they’re on some trashy reality show where they’re about to bring out Niall’s side piece

also largely (but loosely) based on Jerry Springer which I watched entirely too much of as a kid lol

TW for racial slurs (nothing actually gets mentioned/said outright at any point, it’s really just a passing reference to them being used) but it’s okay, it’ll all make sense at the end I promise; also TW for the fact that everyone’s kind of an asshole in this but there’s a good reason for it i swear

[ao3 post here]

The crowd boos when Zayn comes around the side entrance and makes his way toward the empty couch next to James. Zayn flips the crowd off as he walks past, glaring at them all sourly as they jeer at him, shoves one of the overeager cameramen away from him with a hand to his lens. It only ends up riling the crowd up even more, makes their boos even louder but he doesn’t really care. He’s mainly only here for the money anyway.

Zayn plops down onto the couch across from Niall smirking at the giant screen behind them. It’s currently frozen on a picture of him taken just outside the studio earlier today by one of the show’s crewmembers. He’s leaned up against a ledge glaring down the camera and he looks damn good if he does say so himself.

“Christ, you’re conceited,” Niall bites out and he’s glaring, arms crossed over his chest but Zayn just turns his smirk on Niall, shrugging.

“Not my fault I’m so fit.”

“Oh shut up you wanker, Jesus Christ, you’re so full of shit.”

The crowd cheers, starting up a chant—wanker, wanker, wanker. Zayn just smirks lazily, leaning into the side of the couch.

“Really? That’s all you can do is just sit there and smirk? You know what, fuck you, you piece of shit!” Niall shouts over the noise of the crowd. “I ought to punch that fucking smirk right off your face!”

Niall makes a move as if he actually means to get up and do it but James, who’s sat in a chair between them, throws a hasty hand out and one of the burly security guards steps closer, hovering just behind Niall’s couch ready to step in if necessary.

Niall huffs, sitting back down and crossing his arms like a petulant child and Zayn laughs.

“What’s the matter? Not so tough now that the cameras are rolling? Don’t want anyone to see that you fight like a pussy?”

Niall does stand then, immediately lunging over the small space between them trying to get a hit in. Zayn mirrors him, smirk still firmly in place, but ready for the ensuing brawl. He’s never been one to back down from a fight anyway and this one was bound to happen, inevitable really. In a way he’s been looking forward to it since the moment he agreed to even do the show. But before either of them can even get a proper swing in security is rushing in to pull them apart.

“Oi! Calm down, both of you, or you’ll be off the show!” James shouts over the roar of the crowd.

Zayn relents first, straightening back out his leather jacket and glaring but throwing up his hands to get them to back off of him. Niall keeps fighting them just like Zayn knew he would, struggling against their hold on him, yelling all kinds expletives both at them and at him.

“Oi! I said calm down! Now!” James repeats.

Niall fights for a few more moments, gives one of the guards one last shove and then finally relents in an angry huff, red in the face from all the exertion. Once they’re satisfied that he’s not gonna try anything else they move away, still hovering by the couches until Niall drops back down into his seat sulkily, mouth a thin line.

Zayn follows suit and so does James, looking back and forth between them pointedly.

“Right. Are we good now? Have we got ourselves together?”

Neither of them answer, choosing instead to glare at each other from their respective seats but James soldiers on, suddenly taking on a more calming tone.

“Look, I understand there’s bad blood between you, but you’ll each have a chance to say your piece. That’s why you came on the show in the first place, to work this all out, yeah? So let’s get it all out in the open and clear the air once and for all, alright?”

Niall gives a curt nod. Zayn shrugs.

“Right then,” James continues. “So, let’s rehash a bit of what happened that led you all here, shall we? Now you all were together for four years, have I got that right?”

“Waste of four years of my life if you ask me,” Niall grumbles, arms crossed over his chest once more.

Zayn smirks again. “S’not what you were saying all those times I fucked your brains out—”

“Whoa whoa, alright, let’s try and keep it civil and PG-13 please, can we?” James yells as the crowd erupts into another bout of jeers at Zayn’s callous attitude.

Zayn shrugs, uncaring. He’s not making any promises. He’s got no real reason to censor himself. Doesn’t really see the point knowing they’ll just bleep it out anyway for the viewers at home and it’ll only drive the crowd even more mad. Reckons James is just saying it more out of formality than anything since this is half the reason people even tune into this show anyway.

“Alright, so you were together for four years in what you, Niall, thought was a stable monogamous relationship, yes? But then—”

“Then I caught this arsehole in our bed fucking some other man and found out he’d been cheating on me almost the entire fucking time we were together with some fucking piece of shite minger!”

The audience boos and jeers some more.

“Language, please. Alright, so to recap, according to you, Niall, you two were together for four years in what you believed to be a monogamous relationship until you found out that Zayn had been cheating on you with another man, named Liam, who we also have here today.” He directs the last bit to one of the cameras, waits for Niall’s ensuing nod of confirmation, and then turns to Zayn. “Now, Zayn, do you agree with that relay of events as Niall’s told them, barring the more…explicit details? Or would you like to tell things from your own point of view?”

“No, m’good.”

“Really? You don’t wanna maybe explain why you did what you did? I mean, four years is a long time to be together, you know? Why stay in that relationship if you didn’t really care for Niall?”

Zayn shrugs again, raises his brows at Niall. “Cause he was a good fuck. Why else?”

Yet more boos and curses from echo out from the audience in another deafening roar.

James waits until the noise has settled down again to a more reasonable level before he resumes with his questioning. “So to clarify, Zayn, to you this was more just a sexual relationship? You never had, or developed, any romantic feelings towards Niall the entire time you were together?”

“Nope.”

The crowd erupts into a racket again, exclamations of disbelief and disgust making their way across to him, rolling off his shoulders like water. He doesn’t really give a fuck what they think. They don’t know him.

“So, you don’t see anything wrong with the way you treated Niall? You don’t believe that you did anything wrong or unfair in sleeping with another man while you two were together?”

“No.”

More sneers and boos and insults are thrown his way, but he simply ignores it, sits calmly on the couch awaiting James’ next words.

James shakes his head at him, but doesn’t question him further. Instead he turns to the main camera where the man behind it is signaling something to him and speaks directly into it.

“Alright, unfortunately,” James calls over the din, “we’ve got to take a break for adverts, but when we come back you’ll have a chance to hear from The Other Man and get his side of the story.”

An image of Liam all pensive and serious-faced, sitting on the same ledge as Zayn, appears on the large screen behind James and the crowd’s jeers, which had only just started to die down a bit, flare up yet again.

The few minutes of the advert break pass rather quickly and when the show starts rolling again James directs his words once more into the main camera, the same image of Liam flashing up on the screen behind him again.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. If you’ve been following what’s been happening on the show today so far then you’ll know it’s been a rough few weeks for Niall here, his now ex-boyfriend Zayn, and the man you’re about to meet. For those of you just joining us, Niall’s four year relationship with Zayn recently came to an abrupt end after Niall found out that Zayn had been cheating on him nearly the entire time they were together with another man, Liam, who you’ll meet in just a moment, for which Zayn believes he did nothing wrong. Ladies and gentlemen, The Other Man, Liam.” James stretches an arm out toward the side entrance to direct everyone’s attention that way.

The cameras all immediately pan over to that side of the studio to catch Liam making his debut and sure enough he steps out, head ducked, making his way over, cameras pointed eagerly in his direction the whole way. The crowd goes mad as soon as they see him, starting up more shouts and jeers, calling Liam a homewrecker and all sorts of other vile things as he walks past them and settles down on the same couch next to Zayn.

“Alright, so Liam, we’ve heard Niall and Zayn’s sides of the story, why don’t we start by you giving us your version of events. How did you and Zayn end up getting together and how do you feel about what Niall’s had to go through as a result?”

“Well, me and Zayn met at a club. I didn’t know he had a boyfriend. I was just sort of looking for a no-strings-attached sort of thing, you know, like friends with benefits or whatever, so that’s pretty much what we were and we kind of just kept it going I guess.”

“So, your relationship with him was purely sexual? No romantic feelings involved at all?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“So then, when did you find out about Niall?”

Liam shakes his head. “I didn’t. Or at least not till now anyway.”

There’s some collective gasps and sounds of surprise from the audience at this.

“So you’re saying you never knew Zayn had a boyfriend? This whole time?”

“No.” Liam shakes his head again.

“And you never suspected? Nothing ever seemed suspicious at all to you or anything like that? Zayn never acted dodgy or like anything was out of the ordinary at any point or like he might’ve been hiding something?”

“No.”

“You’re a fucking liar! You were in our fucking house!” Niall shouts, moving to get up from his seat even while the security guards rush forward to hold him back. “Who the fuck did you think the Irish flag on our bedroom wall belonged to, huh? Did you think the family photos in the living room were just some random white family he’d befriended?” he yells, fighting ineffectually against the burly arms holding him back, the crowd cheering him on.

“I don’t know,” Liam says, sinking a bit into the couch. “I thought maybe he just liked Ireland and the photos could’ve been anyone.”

The crowd boos, clearly disbelieving—either that or just disapproving of how naïve Liam appears—many of them shaking their heads.

“You’re a fucking idiot! A fucking idiot and an arsehole!” Niall shouts, still pushing and fighting against security.

“Alright, alright, let’s all just try and settle down, yeah?” James cuts in, signaling to the men holding Niall back who shove Niall back down to the couch where he sulks angrily. “We will get to the bottom of this, and everyone will have a chance to say their piece,” James intones, looking at all three of them in a show of sincerity before he turns back to the main camera. “We’ve got take another break now, but…when we come back you’ll hear from mates of Niall and Zayn to get a more objective take on this whole situation.”

The screen behind James lights up again and an image of Harry and Louis appears, a little ways off from the same ledge Zayn and Liam were photographed at. Louis is leaned against Harry, his whole torso pressed up to Harry’s side, elbow and the corner of his jaw pillowed on Harry’s broad shoulder sun shining behind them as they look down the camera calculatingly, brows furrowed as if already in judgment, before the picture fades.

The break goes rather quickly again and when they come back, James goes through another brief recap of what’s happened so far before they bring Harry and Louis out.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd seems unsure about how to react to them, not sure yet which side they’re on.

They join Niall on the couch, faces impassive, not giving anything away. That is, until James starts in with his questions.

“I told Niall to stay away from him,” Louis says, sneering at Zayn across the small space between them. “Told him the bloke was dodgy but he wouldn’t fucking listen. The first time we met him was when Niall invited us all on a double date and the arsehole fucking ignored everyone and barely looked up from his phone the entire time and then dipped out on the bill with some story about how he’d lost his wallet.”

Harry doesn’t say anything but his glare is downright murderous.

“Well, Zayn’s made it clear that he believed his and Niall’s relationship wasn’t really romantic in nature. He seems to be under the impression that it was purely sexual and that he hasn’t done anything wrong since it was never made explicit that they were to be monogamous or that Niall wanted more from their relationship. Feelings for him as a person aside, I’m curious to know what you all’s impression was of the relationship as a whole. Were there any particular times that you yourselves witnessed Niall making clear what his intentions were or that he was looking for more than just a sexual relationship?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Louis says, but it’s clearly directed at Zayn and not James as Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn, indignant. “You don’t get a fucking house together with someone you’re just shagging!”

Zayn shrugs. “Dunno, mate, seems to me it makes it a hell of a lot easier to shag, doesn’t it, if you don’t have to keep meeting up places and switching flats back and forth.”

“You’re fucking mental,” Harry says, venom lacing his deep voice as he keeps up with his murderous glare.

“It speaks,” Zayn says sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

But the snide comment has Louis rearing up from his seat ready to fight and then Niall is up too, Zayn grinning wickedly as he rises to meet their challenge.

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” Louis yells, Niall echoing much of the same in slightly different words, red in the face again with anger and it all happens so fast that they’re on each other before security even has a chance to do much of anything to stop them.

The three of them kick and scratch and punch at each other, ripping at clothes and hair, elbows and fists and legs flying, Harry jumping up to join the fray the second Zayn gets in a particularly good hit at Louis. Security makes a weak attempt at holding them back at first, letting them persist for ratings’ sake, the audience spurring them on with chants of fight, fight, fight like it’s a school lunchroom, random words of encouragement directed at Niall and Harry and Louis occasionally rising above the rest of the noise. After a little while though security finally puts a bit more effort into springing to action, putting on a bit of a show as if it’s a struggle to break the four of them apart, dwarfed as they all are in comparison to the size and strength of the security guards. But it’s all part of the show and the four of them play along, fighting against the guards’ holds as if they could really ever have a chance of breaking away, until they all put on an air of calming down and are let go.

“Alright,” James says, “there’s obviously some pretty tense feelings all around that need to be worked through. So. Let’s try and see if we can talk this through, shall we, hopefully without anymore violence? Can we do that, guys?”

Zayn shrugs, Harry, Louis, and Niall still glaring, but giving reluctant-looking nods all the same.

Most of the rest of the show is spent with them trying to “talk out their feelings.” Emphasis on most because they end up getting into three more fights, one of which Liam actually joins in on—after a couple of racial slurs get thrown around where he comes to Zayn’s defense—and the crowd goes absolutely wild.

When it’s all over and done with and they’ve all made a show of forgiving each other and working most of their differences out, James thanks them all for coming and praises them for being able to work things out. He thanks the audience and viewers at home for watching and then they’re all being ushered backstage.

“Holy shit, did you hear them when Liam joined the fight?” Zayn laughs.

“I know, Christ, I thought I was going to go deaf! We are so doing this again,” Louis says with a laugh of is own and a sprint down the corridor toward the exit.

Liam giggles as Zayn wraps an arm around him. “You did so good, babe,” Liam says to him, “the crowd hated you.”

“Yeah, and they loved you,” Zayn says with a smile, pressing a quick and sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Well, once you won them over anyway, even though you were the ‘homewrecker.’ I bet we could even pass you off as a serial killer and you’d still find a way to make them love you with your adorable puppy dog eyes.”

“Shut up,” Liam says, shoving at him playfully.

“S’true,” Zayn says with a giggle, watching Harry brace his hands on Niall’s shoulders in front of them and jump onto Niall’s back to press a slobbery kiss to his temple before he’s hopping back down and joining Louis further down the corridor, twining his long limbs around him.

Niall laughs, calling, “Oi, ya wanker!” down the corridor after him but Harry just turns to stick his tongue out at him.

When they all reach the door that leads to the exit Niall turns to them with a wicked grin. “So. What should we do next time?” he says, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“How ‘bout you and me, Nialler?” Harry says, eyes just as mischievous as Niall’s even while he’s still wrapped around Louis like an octupus. “You can be the homewrecker to me and Lou. And we can say it’s because you were upset over Zayn and I was just trying to comfort you but it turned into more and I was too afraid to come clean to Louis after everything else that happened cause I knew how he’d react.”

“Mmmm, I’m liking where this is going,” Louis says with an evil smirk. “But how about we rev it up even more? What if we make Zayn and Liam engaged cause Zayn realizes he’s been in love with Liam all along and that’s the real reason he cheated on Niall, he was just too afraid to admit it to himself before. But then Liam also secretly slept with Niall on the side cause he felt guilty about what happened and didn’t know how else to make it up to him, but now he’s falling for Niall too and he wants the three of you to be in a polyamorous relationship.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Zayn says immediately.

“I love it,” Liam agrees, trying to tamp down a wicked grin.

And just like that a new plan is made.

[ending inspired by these additions to the initial tumblr post if anyone was curious]

#ziam #ziall #ziam fic #mine #my fics #when did reality become tv fic

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