#❝ — emma && john // air in my lungs. ❞

[bijouxcarys]

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Masterlist

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲. Still young, he’s money-wise and managed to start the foundation to what I am sure will be a fundamentally successful monolith. Mainstream managers and businessmen should look into Reid’s tactics and mindset; he has potential to guide future stars to their fortune and fame. Mark my words: we have not heard the last of John Reid.

The completion of the exam season is a tremendous relief for everyone involved, from students to teachers to the families eagerly awaiting results. As I finished my exams and approached the end of my second year of university, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. All that remained was wrapping up our coursework, specifically our five-thousand-word study inspired by our chosen subjects. However, as I sat at my usual desk in the lecture room, my focus was entirely consumed by Professor Ross and his peculiar behaviour. It was a stark departure from his usual dull demeanour, and I found myself longing for his mundane self.

“The industry isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, kiddies,” Professor Ross began, his words filled with cynicism. “Once you’re out there, it will drag you down, and you’ll find yourself working at Morrison’s wondering where your life went wrong.”

Confusion creased my brow as I glanced around at my classmates, who wore expressions of bewilderment mirroring my own. It wasn’t just me who was taken aback by Professor Ross’ words. While he was known for being an unpleasant individual, it became increasingly evident that something else was influencing his erratic behaviour. Having being exposed to students who frequently used and abused stimulants during my time in college and university, I recognised the signs. Professor Ross seemed to be a victim of the prevailing social trend of the late 1960s and early 1970s, the era when hyperactive drugs became increasingly prevalent.

On that day, Emma wasn’t by my side; she had chosen to stay back at the flat, diligently working on her coursework. Cameron had already dropped Events Management class, leaving me alone at the back of the room. Being isolated allowed me to openly observe my classmates, much to the annoyance of Professor Ross.

“Miss Brennan, do the expressions on your classmates’ faces captivate you more than what’s happening up front? I am imparting valuable life advice here—advice you would pay for! Your ingratitude will lead you down a path of trouble, earning you grades that you will regret,” Professor Ross snarled, his words piercing through me and stealing the air from my lungs.

Stammering, I struggled to form a coherent response. Fear gripped my heart, the prospect of failing my course looming over me like a dark cloud. However, Professor Ross’ words felt more like a menacing threat than a mere warning. “I… I don’t…” My voice barely escaped my quivering lips.

“What don’t you understand, Maria?” he spat, leaning on his desk and fixing me with a glare. The rest of the students in the room had frozen, their eyes transfixed on our exchange. “You fail to comprehend that if you persist in this petty rebellion, wasting your time at university, you will fail. And I will personally ensure that no management label in the country will employ you. Show some respect and appreciation for my work, or I will fail you in this course.”

His words left my classmates stunned into silence, their expressions mirroring my own terror. I remained seated, my mouth agape, feeling humiliated and degraded in front of thirty pairs of eyes. My palms turned clammy, and my fingers clenched into tight fists. The weight of their collective gaze bore down on me, and I knew I had to escape.

Tears welled in my eyes as I hastily gathered my belongings, stuffing them into my bag with little care. I couldn’t recall the looks on my classmates’ faces as I hurriedly fled the room. My vision blurred, my mind yearning for the comfort of my bed or the solace of the studio where Brian played his guitar. But I found myself trapped in the grip of a panic attack, alone and incapable of calming myself down. By the time I reached the campus atrium, panic consumed me entirely.

You’re going to fail. You’ll disappoint everyone. Your parents will despise you. Your brother will turn his back on you. Emma will mock you. Brian will stop loving you.

I couldn’t bear to face Emma back at the flat. Any reminder of my pending coursework would send me fleeing. In this state of mind, I knew exactly how to disappear without a trace. My skin prickled with irritation, growing increasingly hot and itchy with each step. Every person seemed to be staring at me, their eyes burning into my flesh, leaving behind blistering welts that only existed in my mind.

I yearned for Brian’s arms, his breath caressing my neck, and his hair brushing against my face. I craved the comfort of his embrace, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. His presence alone could shield me from the darkness surrounding us. I needed him desperately.

And so, I found myself instinctively heading towards him. Looking back now, I can’t recall the act of walking to Trident. It’s all a hazy blur, as if my desire for Brian propelled me forward. The receptionist must have thought I was completely unhinged, entering the building in various emotional states. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had alerted Roy and asked for me to be monitored. Fortunately, there was no indication that she did, at least not that I was aware of.

I attempted to offer her a smile, but my reddened and tear-streaked face likely conveyed a different story than the cheery demeanour I was trying to portray. My bag remained open, books peeking out from the top. Stray strands of hair clung to my face, as my breathing remained unsteady. Nonetheless, I held my breath as I made my way through the studio corridors, a futile attempt at calming myself down. It was a risky move, as I felt as though I might collapse under the weight of overwhelming emotions. With my gaze fixed on the ground, I turned the doorknob to studio D and pushed the door open.

The boys were gathered around the mixing desk, Roy and John number two tinkering with the controls, blending a track that ironically played “Doing Alright”. I felt guilty for interrupting their work once again, but I had no other choice. I needed them. I needed Brian. He leaned against the mixing desk, his grin fading when he caught sight of my dishevelled state. Hurrying over, he placed his hands on my shoulders before cupping my face, thumbs tracing my cheeks. “Oh my God, what happened?” he asked softly, shielding me from the prying eyes of the others with his towering presence.

“I… I can’t…” My words faltered, giving way to another wave of tears. I exhaled sharply, my breaths becoming shallow and rapid. You need to breathe to cry, but my lungs felt incapable of fulfilling that basic need, sending my body into overdrive and intensifying my panic attack. “I can’t breathe, Bri…” I managed to choke out, dropping my bag with a heavy thud on the floor. I heard Brian mutter “fuck” under his breath, guiding me to the sofa and gently settling me down. He held onto my hands tightly with one hand while the other cradled my face. Desperate to be closer to him, I leaned in, resting my forehead against his, our clasped hands gripping tightly together.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re alright. Take deep breaths. Can you do that for me? Can you take deep breaths?” Brian’s voice reassured me as I enveloped his hand with my trembling ones, swaying back and forth slowly. He swayed with me, offering a sense of his presence and support. It helped, and amidst my anxiety, I found myself apologising over and over again in a whispered, airy tone. Brian shook his head firmly.

“Shh, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He turned his gaze towards the others who watched uncomfortably. Lost in my own anxious world, I hardly registered their presence. Brian asked someone to fetch me water, and Freddie swiftly obliged, returning with a glass of cold water. Brian held it up to me. “Here, love. Take small sips.” My hands were too shaky to hold the glass steady, so Brian tilted it slightly towards my mouth, helping me drink. I felt utterly helpless, and the tears continued to stream down my face.

It took a good five minutes for my breathing to gradually return to normal, my vision clearing up to reveal the breath-taking sight of the man on his knees before me, caring for me. I lifted my head, releasing my hands from Brian’s grasp and wiping my face. I glanced over Brian’s head at the others, who offered me a small, awkward smile.

“You alright?” Roger asked, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. I nodded in response, returning the same small smile. “I think so… I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Don’t apologise, Maria. We’re on a break anyway. The most important thing is that you’re safe and okay,” John said, folding his arms. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I assured, taking a deep breath and gazing up at the ceiling. “I would’ve gone to Freddie, but…” I paused, looking directly at the singer. “Even if I did, you’d be here and not there,” I half-stated, half-asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes… About that, darling. I realised I didn’t need any of that petty academia, when I already got what I needed from Ealing. I know I can design clothes if I want to, and I don’t need an ‘A’ written on some cheap paper to tell me that. It gives me more time to focus on this,” he gestured towards the live room behind him.

I let out a shaky breath. Another one gone. I scanned the faces of everyone, my gaze finally landing back on Brian. “Have I done something wrong?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“What?” Brian furrowed his brow. “Of course not, Maria—”

“Why is everybody leaving me?” I whimpered, the tears resurfacing once again.

“Oh, no, no, shh…” Brian pulled me close, rising to his feet and settling on the sofa beside me. He held me tightly, as if all the pieces were falling into place. His hand soothingly stroked my head, preventing another panic attack from talking hold. “Nobody is leaving you, my love. We won’t leave you, ever. We all love you,” he murmured, placing tender kisses on my hair.

“Yes, we do love you. Otherwise, we wouldn’t keep you around. If you’re good enough for Brian, you’re good enough for us. And we love having you around, Maria, darling,” Freddie beamed, walking over and sitting on the other side of me. “Why are we upset? Tell Auntie Freddie.” He patted my leg.

A soft giggle escaped my lips as I nestled against Brian’s chest, my sniffling gradually subsiding. With a gentle shift, I sat up slightly, still wrapped in Brian’s comforting embrace. “Professor Ross… He said some stuff that worried me… I think he was high or something. He wasn’t acting like himself,” I explained, my voice thick with emotion. “I know it sounds silly. I’m just overwhelmed with everything.”

Brian clicked his tongue, his expression filled with anger. I could see the fire in his eyes, a burning determination to protect me. If he wasn’t the kind-hearted person he was, he would have gone out of his way to ensure that Professor Ross never uttered such words to me again. But Brian wouldn’t do that. Because he was a genuinely good, always has been.

“It sounds like you’ve had a rough day,” Roy sighed, swivelling in his chair to face me. “You’re welcome to stay here until they’re finished, if you need to. But we still have to work, obviously, while we have the time.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry for interrupting,” I replied, nodding in understanding. I released Brian from his comforting hold after he gave me a soothing and tender kiss on the lips.

The next thing I remember is sinking into the softness of the sofa, my jacket serving as a makeshift blanket, and drifting off to sleep. Perhaps a nap would alleviate some of the weight on my shoulders. Surprisingly, the sofa proved to be more comfortable than anticipated, and I dozed off for another two and a half hours. It was the commotion and animated chatter coming from the studio doorway that roused me from my slumber. Squinting my eyes, I looked in the direction of the noise, finding everyone gathered in a tight group, their body language exuding excitement.

I groaned as I sat up, brushing loose strands of hair from my face. That’s when I heard a voice I didn’t recognise. Curiosity piqued, I made my way towards the boys, placing a hand on Brian’s shoulder. He turned around, his face beaming with joy.

“Oh, you’re awake! Look who just stopped by!” he exclaimed, nodding his head to the side. And that’s when I finally laid eyes on the mysterious man who had everyone so giddy. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I had to be dreaming.

Standing before me, smiling down at me, was John fucking Reid.

In the span of sixty seconds, my world turned upside down.

I had started my course in 1971 with little interest in management or pursuing a typical office job. I would have been content with waitressing or any other stereotypical female-dominated occupation. If it weren’t for my parents’ insistence, I probably wouldn’t have even gone to university. The thought of an alternative reality terrified me. Yet, here I was, in early 1973, fully immersed in the world of management and the music industry, relishing in my studies and the influence of the new friends I had made. Those friends whom I would have never met if I hadn’t come to Imperial. Despite the weight on my shoulders and increasing discomfort of living with Emma, from an outsider’s perspective, my life in February of 1973 was heaven compared to some of the other periods I had experienced. And now, here I stood, face-to-face, eye-to-eye, with the person I had immersed myself in studying. What the fuck is going on?

I’m certain he must have regarded me as a complete idiot as I stood there, my eyes widening and my mouth slightly agape. The sound of the boys erupting into laughter snapped me back to reality, and I quickly blinked my eyes, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks. Brian’s hand reached around me, pulling me close to him, his touch offering solace. As the laughter subsided, he gently squeezed my side, reassuring me in his own way.

I gazed up at Brian, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Am I dreaming?” I asked him with a mixture of seriousness and amusement, causing another loud round of laughter to escape from the group. I playfully nudged him with me elbow. “Don’t laugh at me!” I whined, snuggling even closer to him, feeling incredibly awkward in that moment.

“I’m sorry, love,” Brian chuckled, his arms still wrapped around me.

“You’re not dreaming, darling. This is all real. And yes, this is John Reid standing right in front of you,” Freddie chimed in, leaning against the wall.

I immediately extended my hand, shaking John’s eagerly. “It’s so good to meet you, Mr. Reid,” I beamed. “This is fucking insane…” I trailed off, unable to contain my thoughts as I withdrew my hand.

John chuckled, clasping his hands together. “Please, call me John. I’m pretty much the same age as all of you. I don’t want to be treated like an old man.”

I laughed, crossing my arms and suddenly realising I hadn’t put my jacket back on. It’s fine, he won’t notice your arms. There’s no reason for him to. He won’t see the scars…

“So, um… I still can’t believe I’m not dreaming,” I said timidly, stealing a glance at Brian.

“It was a surprise for us too. But that’s just the nature of being in a professional recording studio. Managers come and go from this place more often than we realise,” Deacy explained, his demeanour surprisingly calm. I knew him well enough by this point to understand that he found it difficult to open up to new people, even if those people happened to be John Reid.

“Exactly! I’m always on the lookout for new talent, and I’ve only been in the business for about four years. If I want to be successful, I have to scout every recording studio in London. That’s my tup for anyone interested in this line of work,” John added. I had done enough research to know that he was Scottish, but hearing his accent in person was something I wasn’t quite prepared for. As he spoke about management, my mind began to race with possibilities. Maybe if I mentioned my studies and interest in management, he would take me under his wing and help me. Perhaps he would like me even more, although there was no real reason to think he didn’t already. But before I could say anything, Freddie swooped in, unknowingly coming to my rescue. He practically flew across our little circle, positioning himself on the other side of me and pulling me away from Brian’s grasp, effectively shielding me with his presence.

“Our little Maria, here, is studying events management, so I’m sure she appreciates your words. She’s quite clever at it, too, dear,” Freddie proudly declared, squeezing me tightly. I stifled a small giggle but remained in a state of complete shock over the entire situation. “She’s also the reason we’re in this studio!”

John seemed impressed, leaning back against the door frame and crossing his arms. “Studying it, eh? I assume you’re at university?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m at Imperial College.” My voice somewhat returned to its usual shyness but being surrounded by the boys prevented me from being overwhelmed by the multitude of emotions coursing through me.

“That accent,” he pointed his finger. “It’s rare to come across a Northerner around here.”

“I know, it can be a bit challenging at times. Most of the time, nobody understands what I’m saying because I either speak too fast or use some dodgy dialect,” I shrugged.

“Aye, don’t worry about that, lass. I face the same problems,” he winked at me, stepping away from the door frame and clasping his hands together. “I have about twenty minutes before I need to head off, so fancy showing me what you’ve been up to, lads?” His words caught the boys off guard, their eyes darting between each other.

“Uhm…” Roger stammered, scanning the others. Brian did the same, as Deacy did. However, Freddie was more than willing to step up for Mr. Reid.

“Of course, darling,” he strutted forward, approaching John and looking up at him. “You want to see what we’re doing? We’ll bloody well give it to you, dear.” With a mischievous smirk, he sauntered into the live room. Freddie was always flirtatious, but I had never seen him so openly flirtatious with another man before. Not that I had a problem with it, of course. It just reminded me of that passing thought I had at the Christmas get-together. Maybe Freddie was… gay? But he was with Mary, he liked Mary. And I had seen him flirt with other girls. He couldn’t be gay… But then again, he still flirted with guys when it suited him. Maybe he was gay. I struggled to make sense of Freddie’s sexuality in moments like these, but all I knew was that he was an incredible human being with a kind soul. I didn’t care if he was interested in girls or boys. However, trying to reach a conclusion about it was mind-boggling.

Roger eagerly followed Freddie into the live room, with Deacy close behind. John went to the mixing desk and settled into one of the chairs, studying the notes Roy had made for their mixes. Brian took my hand and led me into the live room, positioning us just inside the door.

“This is big, Ria! This is a big deal!” Brian whisper-shouted, gripping my shoulders.

“I know!” I whispered back, equally excited, bouncing on my feet. “What are you going to play for him?”

“I don’t know! You choose, you’re our biggest fan,” Brian replied a little louder, grabbing Red and slinging her over his shoulder.

“Keep Yourself Alive, did you even need to ask?” I scoffed, glancing eagerly at the others. “You can do that, right?”

“You’ve heard us, we can do anything, darling,” Freddie adjusted his microphone stand and attached pop shield.

“Why do you want us to play that one so badly?” Brian asked, tuning his guitar quickly. “You’re always so excited about it.”

A blush crept up onto my cheeks as I walked a little closer to him, tucking my fingers into his guitar strap. “You wrote it,” I spoke softly, pushing myself up onto my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. I sighed against him, moving my hand to rest on the side of his neck. The tension slowly dissipated, and I pulled away, smiling up at him. “You have to show him what you’re made of.” I grinned again, giving the others an encouraging look before slipping back into the control room.

I flashed an excited grin at Roy and made my way over to the amps, leaning against a stack of them, ensuring I wasn’t too close to John. I wanted to be near him, to observe how he worked, even if he himself was observing somebody else. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled with intensity, attempting to calm my excitement. Clasping my hands together in front of me, I glanced over at the live room where the boys were ready to go.

“When you’re ready, lads,” Roy spoke through the microphone. One glance at the tape reel beside the mixing desk made me realise that he had set it to record.

“Do you always record when they don’t know?” John asked him.

“Oh, I sometimes set the tape recording when they’re in a good mood or if they’re doing a full run through. They’re always great, but it’s rare to capture them all playing together in the live room at the same time. We might get something special,” Roy explained, adjusting the gains on the master channel of the mixing desk. John nodded, listening, but his attention soon turned to Queen as Brian plucked the intro riff for Keep Yourself Alive. John looked intensely focused, as always, as the rich sound of Red resonated through the speakers, soon joined by Roger and Deacy layering the sonic tapestry.

Pride swelled in my chest as I heard John inquire about the flange effect on Brian’s guitar. He was utterly amazed when he discovered there was no manipulation on the tape or any fancy speaker positioning. Even Roy didn’t know the answer, which frustrated me. It revealed the lack of care given to artists’ projects by Trident’s hands.

“He made the guitar himself,” I chimed in, catching John’s attention as he turned in his chair to look up at me. “He designed the pickups with his dad and added a phase switch. There wasn’t a guitar out there with its own phase switch, so he created one himself. He’s even built his own delay pedal made specifically for that guitar.”

John appeared impressed not only by what I shared about Brian, but also by how much I had picked up on. I noticed a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, and I could only hope that it signalled his interest in taking these guys on. Only time would tell.

I smiled to myself, glancing over at Freddie, who was playfully fiddling with the headphone wire.

As the song played, I found myself mouthing along to the lyrics, tapping my foot quietly to the beat. This was the first time I truly listened to the song without any distractions, fully immersed in the music of Queen. It felt like a personal experience, just me and the band. John and I shared similar reactions, our expressions mirroring each other. I savoured Roger’s falsetto during the chorus and revelled in the depth of Brian’s vocals.

I observed John as he listened to Freddie’s vocals, and it seemed like he was genuinely impressed. While I was proud of Brian, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness for all four of them. They had achieved so much in the time I had known them. Roger went all out during his solo, extending it far beyond what they typically played on stage. They were true rock stars, seizing golden opportunities like this one. Who would turn down a chance with Elton John’s manager?

My heart fluttered as Brian’s wide smile illuminated the room during his beloved guitar solo. Every chord progression was pure silk to my ears. I bit my lip, trying to contain the overwhelming surge of joy. It struck me that just a few hours ago, I was a nervous wreck, on the verge of losing hope. And now, here I was, leaning against the amps in Trident Studios, listening to my boyfriend and his bandmates jamming out in front of the man I had studied for months. I couldn’t remember a time when I had been happier.

I have a tendency to cry when emotions reach a certain intensity within me, regardless of the emotion itself. And at that moment, it became too much. I felt so incredibly happy and at ease in that studio, surrounded by truly remarkable individuals, and tears began to well up in my eyes. I brought my hand up to my chin, resting my fingers beneath it. A tear fell onto the sleeve of my blouse, leaving a dark patch. I was so caught up in my feelings that I tuned out the rest of the song, my gaze fixed on Brian, admiring everything about him. Oh, how I loved that man.

I remained still against the amps as the four of them finished playing and made their way back into the control room. I watched as John congratulated them on their talent, clearly impressed by their abilities. I stayed quiet, wanting to savour that glorious moment from a distance, even though all I wanted to do was jump into Brian’s arms and express how proud I was of him and how much I loved him. But that could wait for later.

For a brief moment, I felt forgotten, but it didn’t bother me. I was content fading into the background while John praised the boys and spoke about their potential. However, before he could say anything else, he announced that he had to leave, unfortunately. Freddie and John exchanged phone numbers, which had to mean something good, right?

Brian and John slumped down on the sofa, while Freddie and Roger enthusiastically saw John out. I looked over at Brian with a small smile, which was only small due to the effort I put into not freaking out as much as I wanted to. But I couldn’t contain it any longer. My smile transformed into a radiant grin. I pushed myself off the amps and ran over to the sofa, falling onto it and over the two men. Unintentionally, my upper body rested on Deacy, while my lower body rested on Brian. No one seemed to mind, so I settled into that position, feeling a sense of comfort and contentment.

“That was pretty bloody mad,” Brian sighed, his hand innocently resting on my thigh.

“Definitely,” Deacy agreed, glancing at Brian and then at me, his eyebrows furrowing. “Are you… Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” I replied, sitting up on Brian’s lap and turning to face them both. “I can’t believe what just happened. It feel so unreal. And I’m so proud of all of you.” I whispered the last part shyly, prompting Brian to chuckle and pull me closer to him in a grateful embrace.

“I love you so much,” Brian murmured against my shoulder.

“I love you too, Poodle.”

“Does this mean Veronica and I have permission to be all lovey-dovey whenever we’re together?” Deacy teased, leaning back on the sofa arm. I burst into laughter, my arms wrapping tighter around Brian’s fluffy curls.

I just met John fucking Reid.

#fanfiction #fanfic #queen #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #brian may #brian may fanfic #brian may fanfiction #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #1970s #70s #classic rock #music #fandom #writer #fic #ao3 #wattpad #wattpad writer #ao3 writer #stories #1972 #1973 #peace lovin guy series #peace lovin guy

[mystical-flute]

Hustling For the Good Life (SFWeek Day 3)

No Curse (Our World) AU or Season 3 AU

@mysteryandnonstopfun

AO3 || FFN

Emma’s stare was harsh and aimed in the direction of her parents and Regina. “We can’t.”

There was absolutely no time to argue. Pan’s curse was steadily drawing near, the sky already taking on a dark, ominous hue, swallowing up the buildings and people that had called Storybrooke home for twenty-eight years.

“Emma, you have to go. It’s the only way to keep Henry safe!” Snow protested.

Neal turned away from the small family, and looked at Belle. “Are you going to be okay, Belle?”

“Don’t worry about me. Your father would want you and Henry to be safe, Bae,” she said. “Besides, Snow has been kind enough to allow me to stay with them… if we’re able to get back to their castle.”

So much was unknown about what was going to happen. Neal was worried he might throw up.

He put on a brave smile that he knew neither of them bought.

“You guys need to hurry!” Ruby suddenly cried, glancing over her shoulder at the purple storm clouds racing toward them. “It’s almost here!”

Neal squeezed Belle’s hand and turned to Emma and Henry. “Let’s - let’s get to safety, then.”

He should have been happy that the life he and Emma deserved to have was within his grasp, but like everything with magic, the price was too damn steep, and it wouldn’t be worth it.

They might not remember Storybrooke, but he knew the pain in Snow, David, and Regina’s eyes would never leave.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said, passing Regina on his way to the bug.

“Just keep Henry safe. Please.”

“You know we will.”

Neal gave Hook one final glance, and a single nod of acknowledgement before he got in the passenger’s seat once Henry was safely in the back. He and Emma clasped their hands over the gear shift, the familiar rumbling of the bug almost making him smile as Emma began to drive.

None of them took their eyes off the mirrors as their loved ones -

“Em? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, glancing at her. “Allergies acting up?”

Emma took her hand off his, using it to wipe her eyes before she pulled to the side of the road. “No - sorry. I just got a little overwhelmed at the thought of our apartment in Boston. We’ve lost everything, Neal. Our clothes, our furniture, our pictures - ”

“But not our lives,” he said, rubbing her back. “Emma, we’re lucky we weren’t home when the fire broke out. We can replace the stuff, but we can’t replace each other.”

Henry looked up from his game. “I’m not reenacting those baby pictures.”

Neal snort-laughed. “You don’t have to, bud. But just be aware that your mom and I might take a few extra pictures of you for the foreseeable future.”

Henry scowled, rolling his eyes, and immersed himself in Zelda again.

Emma chuckled. “New York then. Almost home.”

---

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, Henry’s cries cutting through the air.

“Healthy pair of lungs on him,” the nurse chuckled, rubbing him down. “Oh darling, it’s okay. Let’s get you to Mama, hmm?”

Emma and Neal, two terrified eighteen year olds, were in shock as the nurse laid him in Emma’s arms.

“H - hi baby…” Emma whispered as his cries slowly died down and he stared at them with wonder in his dark eyes. “I’m - I’m your mama… and that’s your daddy…”

The first year had been rough, of course. They lived in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Tallahassee, waitressing and whatever else they could find. They clawed and saved whatever they could, to give Henry more than what they’d had.

But more important than things, was love. Henry had two parents that loved him more than anything in the world, which is much more than Neal or Emma could say for themselves.

They were happy, most of all. Yeah the apartment was a squeeze, and there were on and off issues with bugs, but through it all, the three of them were happy.

They married when Henry was three - a small ceremony in Boston after they’d moved there for Emma’s job. He’d gotten a better job not long after that, as a photographer, and he was really, really good at it, like Emma was good at tracking down criminals.

And so the little family moved up in the world. From a one-bedroom apartment to a two bedroom, they could buy new toys and clothes for Henry instead of hoping they found something at a thrift store or garage sale. It finally felt like they were where they were meant to be.

Emma’s twenty-eighth birthday came and went, and Neal felt a twist of guilt in his gut when August’s voice echoed in his head.

The problem was, Neal hadn’t heard anything from August. No postcard, no email… nothing. No information as to where this supposed curse was?

So how was he supposed to get Emma to her supposed destiny if he didn’t know where he was going?

He had a job, a family. They couldn’t just drive across the country and hope they got lucky.

Then there had been the fire, the spring after Emma’s birthday. They’d been on a camping trip in Maine, Neal taking photos of the coast and Emma insisting Henry needed less time in front of the screen, when they’d gotten the call.

Everything in their apartment was gone, the building itself almost totally a loss.

He’d been transferred to New York.

So they’d started over, again.

New York had been good to them - incredibly so.

The magazine he’d gotten a job with had offered to pay for their rent for two months while they got new furniture and settled into the city.

Henry was thriving in school, making friends and joining the art club. It was everything Neal had ever hoped for.

And after they’d settled in, new furniture and wardrobes abound, they had received a call from one of Emma’s contacts with the NYPD. A two year old girl had been found in an abandoned apartment. No family that the cops or child services could find, and the girl didn’t say anything other than her name - Audrey.

So they’d taken her in, adoption paperwork being expedited given the strangeness of the situation.

All she had to her name was a pink baby blanket, not unlike the one Emma had.

It felt like fate, adopting Audrey the way it happened.

Or something else, but Neal pushed that thought aside as he situated her in her chair, watching as she carefully fed herself.

Emma slid into the seat next to her, a plate in her hand.

“Busy day today?” she asked.

“Nah, just editing the pictures from the Elton John concert last night. I can do it from here,” he said with a shrug, glancing over at a knock on the door. “I got it.”

When he pulled the door open, he’d wished he hadn’t.

“Baelfire.”

He felt the color drain from his face. “Hook. What the hell are you doing here?”

To his shock, Hook actually looked relieved to see him, like it hadn’t been 200 years since they saw each other. Like they had actually been friendly last he saw him. “I came to get you three, Baelfire. To take you home.”

“Home? You must be insane. I am home.”

“Emma’s parents need help, Baelfire. So does your father.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did August send you?”

Hook’s face radiated confusion. “Who’s August?”

That was a no, then, and that didn’t make Neal feel any better about Hook being here. He shouldn’t even know what he looked like - he’d been fourteen when they last saw each other! “Why should I believe you? After everything? And why would you give a damn about my father?”

“He saved my life.”

Neal laughed, then winced when he remembered Emma and Henry were only feet away. “Why would he save you ?”

Hook shrugged. “I was collaterally saved.”

“As always,” he spat.

“Dad?” Henry called. “You okay?”

“Just a second, Henry!” Neal turned back to Hook and narrowed his eyes. “Get lost. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

Hook sighed, holding out a piece of paper. “Fine. If you change your mind, I’m staying here.”

Neal frowned as he took it, watching Hook disappear back down the hall. How had Hook been able to get a hotel room?

This was weird, and despite his instincts telling him to stay away from anything related to the Enchanted Forest, Hook had mentioned Emma’s parents. If they were involved in this, maybe there was more to Emma being left on the side of the road.

So, with Henry at school, Emma at work, and Audrey at daycare, Neal did what his brain was yelling at him not to do, and wandered to the address Hook had given him. To his surprise, it wasn’t a hotel at all, but an apartment building. He was let in no problem, and stood in front of the door.

Why was this familiar?

He pushed the door open, and resisted the urge to toss his keys on a nearby table (why had he wanted to do that?). Instead, he picked up an envelope that caught his attention, dropping it in shock.

Why was his name on it?

He left the envelope on the floor, glancing again around the apartment, and his heart stopped.

The yellow dreamcatcher he and Emma had snatched was hanging from a window. Rushing to it, he lifted it into his hands, afraid it would break.

It should have burned in the fire. How was it here?

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Hook’s voice rumbled from the doorway.

Neal spun around. “Hook, what the hell is this?”

Hook didn’t answer, instead, he pulled a vial of blue liquid from his pocket and held it out. “Your memories of the past year have been erased, Bae.”

“Neal.” He made no move to take the vial.

Hook sighed. “Neal. Please. You have to trust me.”

“Why?”

“It’s like I said - Emma’s family is in danger. A witch is plotting something against her parents. I only just escaped in time before they were sent back to Storybrooke.”

Neal bit his lip and looked around the apartment again. That might explain why he never heard from August, but getting Emma to do anything regarding her parents would be worse than pulling teeth.

He took the vial and drained it, lurching back in pain when the memories began to flood in.

Oh no.

Neal’s eyes were wide with horror as they settled down, and looked up at Hook again. “Killian…”

Killian grinned. “There you are, lad.”

“How’s Belle?”

Killian had a hesitant look on his face. “She’s… as well as she can be. Your father is alive, Bae, but he’s missing, and with Emma’s parents in danger - ”

“The witch might have something to do with it.” She probably had something to do with it, really. “What about Emma and Henry’s memories?”

Hook pulled out two more vials, his face sad. “I’m sorry I had to wake you up, Bae.”

He sighed, remembering the devastation before they’d crossed the town line, Emma’s tearful, almost childish refusal to leave her parents, and the broken look Regina had tried to hide when Henry wasn’t looking. “Don’t be. This is… going to be for the best.”

What it meant for him and Emma, time would only tell.

The Bug was quiet as they raced through the night, back to Storybrooke. Hook, Henry, and Audrey were asleep in the back, but Neal was wide awake.

“Emma…” he said quietly. “About us - ”

Her head snapped over, visible confusion on her face. “What about us?”

“I mean… the marriage, the amount of love we have for each other - ”

“False memories or not, the love I have for you is real, Neal Cassidy,” she said. “I was going to meet you at Granny’s, give you that second chance before Pan’s curse. Although… I guess that was a second chance too.”

Neal smiled, relieved. “So you wanna stay married to me?”

Emma smiled back. “Neal Cassidy, I’ll marry you in any lifetime.”

#sfweek2021 #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy #ouat

[jupitermelichios]

(disclaimer for anyone who’s struggling with time rn: it’s not wednesday, i just forgot I was going to do this this week, and since it’s a snow day in lockdown time is doubly meaningless, so I figured why not do it today)

Fic: let me take you by the hand (and drag you through the streets of london) - BtVS x Hellblazer crossover

There’s a little welcome committee waiting on the sidewalk for them when Spike and Giles pull in outside the Magic Box in the stolen car; Anya, Xander and Dawn huddled outside like they’re waiting for alms.

“They’re doing something… weird,” Anya says, like that word has any meaning at all coming from her. “We ran away.”

“We made a strategic retreat,” Xander corrects. “Because magic is creepy and it smells gross.”

“How gross?” Giles asks immediately.

“It’ll air out,” Anya says dismissively. “I wouldn’t let them do anything that would impact sales.”

“Okay, well. Good.”

“Anyway, you’re one to talk. Is that cigarettes I smell?” Xander asks. “You boys been sneaking off to smoke behind the bleachers?”

“It was behind the bike shed, in my day,” Giles says, unruffled.

Everyone turns to look at him, so Spike shrugs. “They still thought it was medicinal in my day.”

“Wow. You’re so oooold,” Dawn says, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m dead, Bit. And I didn’t actually smoke when I was alive.” His mother couldn’t abide the smell, said it brought on her trouble. Darla had been the one to teach him - she’d smoked like a chimney all the years he’d known her. Cigarillos, cigarettes in a holder once they became the fashion, and even a pipe occasionally. She’d had a long-stemmed clay pipe, the one thing from her human life she’d kept, and on rainy evenings when it was just the four of them sitting around by the fire pretending to be a real family she’d lie on the settee in her chemise and drawers and smoke, while Dru or Angel brushed out her hair for her and Spike read aloud the most amusing obituaries and murders from the paper.

“Wait, you didn’t smoke. You.”

Spike shrugs. There’s a lot about his human life he prefers not to think about, but it’s not like his lifestyle was exactly unusual back then, at least not among respectable middle-class families. “I was pretty straight-edge. Didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never even considered trying opium or hashish. It didn’t last.”

“Clearly.”

They stand around in awkward silence for a bit. Spike rolls another cigarette, to give himself something to do, and then rolls one for Giles as well just to draw it out. Giles takes it without comment, letting Spike light it for him before taking a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for long enough that he coughs a little when he finally exhales.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he says, pointing at Dawn with his fag. “Smoking isn’t cool.”

Dawn, bless her sarcastic little teenage heart, rolls her eyes. “I know. Anyway I get that lecture enough from Spike, I don’t need it from you as well.”

The others turn to stare at him. Spike shrugs. “I’m not getting any deader, but I’m not having her give herself lung cancer.”

“Well I for one am glad Dawn isn’t dying of cancer,” Anya says brightly, like the absolute lunatic she is.

“Me too,” a rough voice says behind them, and they turn to see John, Buffy, and the witches coming out of the shop. John gives Spike a smile that makes something long forgotten shiver through his chest. It’s been a while since anyone looked at him like he was their equal, no animosity or fear or even irritation in his expression. “Tara’s done a tidy bit of spellwork, the blood will keep as long as you need it to.”

“We’ll pick up some more on our way out of town,” Spike says. “It’s on our way.”

“I guess this is it then,” Willow says. She’s still pale, doesn’t sound quite her normal self, but that’s better than he would have expected given what she’s been through. “This is weird. I kind of thought we were going to be stuck with you forever.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Dawn says, flinging her arms around him in a tight hug.

Two hugs in one day.

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ve got your number, and I’ll call you, as soon as I’ve got a phone, okay?”

She nods against his chest, her hair making a soft noise against the leather of his coat, and then lets him go. “I’m okay.”

Tara wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close at once. No one had asked her and Willow to be parents, but they’ve done a pretty good job, all things considered.

“Well, I’m not going to miss you,” Xander says. “In case you were wondering.”

“If I ever get this damn chip out you’re first on my list,” Spike tells him, and then, mostly just to be a dick, pulls Anya into a hug.

“X’ttrk,” he says, one of three words of Ashma’har he’s picked up over the years. It only means goodbye but Xander doesn’t know that and Spike can see it’s absolutely killing him, which is all he wanted. “Keep being you.”

“I don’t see how I could be anyone else,” Anya says, and because she’s Anya she means exactly that. “You should… also continue to be you.”

“That’s the plan.”

He’s not going to risk hugging the witches, even though he would if it were only Tara here. He offers her a hand to shake instead, and she takes it solemnly. “Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

He doesn’t try to touch Willow - it wouldn’t be welcomed. He sticks the hand not holding his cigarette in the pocket of his coat, and says, “Look after them. All of them.”

“I do my best.”

He doesn’t get involved in relationship drama that doesn’t involve him if he can help it (getting weekly updates from Dawn on the Chad - Emma J - Emma C love triangle doesn’t count since he’s only hearing about it forth hand) but he’s seen some fucked up relationships in his time, and he’s not stupid. He knows there’s something going on between the witches, and the fact that they’ve been all lovey dovey again the last couple of weeks isn’t enough to make him think they’ve actually fixed anything. “Look after Tara.”

Wide eyes, and Willow looks at John before she looks at Tara. Maybe he’s being a pessimist and it’s just that John cussed her out for it as well, but he doesn’t think so. Which is a damn shame, because they’re bloody cute together when everything’s working like it’s supposed to.

She juts her chin out pugnaciously and says, “I always do.”

So that’s not getting fixed any time soon.

Still, it’s not his problem. They’re adults, technically. It’s up to them to figure out what they’re fucking up.

Which just leaves Buffy, the one goodbye he’s been dreading. “Slayer...”

She cuts him off. “We’ve said everything that needs to be said. Don’t do anything to make me need to hunt you down.”

“No promises, pet. You know that.” For a moment they just stare at one another, but Spike forces himself to be the one to turn away first this time. He wishes that didn’t feel like a metaphor. “Alright, let’s roll.”

“You’re driving,” John says, sliding into the passenger seat. “On account of I never learned.”

Spike slings his bags into the back seat before he gets into the driver’s seat. The one that holds the blood feels cool to the touch, like it’s just been taken out of the fridge, and tingles like magic. “You never learned to drive?!”

John shrugs. “I’m a queer londoner. Plus my best mate’s a cabbie. He’ll generally take me where I need to go when I’m in town.”

“Yeah but this is America.”

“I hitch-hike.”

“Dangerous.”

“For them more than me.”

Spike snorts and twists the screwdriver they’re using for a key. The engine purrs to life under his hands. It’s going to be a bitch to keep it in fuel, but he already knows he’s going to like driving it. Good call, Ripper. “So what exactly are you contributing to this trip?”

“Charm.”

“Lucky me.”

Dawn waves as they pull away, and when he glances in the mirror at them, still standing there, he sees Anya is too.

He doesn’t look back again.

#spike #john constantine #hellblazer #constantine #constantanna #btvs #long post #my john says tidy and you're just going to have to live with that #i am very emotionally attached to this car #and they drive it to san francisco and never use it again #there's no logical reason for it to come to england #but i really want to think of one #insert hell pun here #of the many sequels to that fic #this is the one i think might have legs #if anyone was wondering why i haven't been working on the fics you actually want to read #this fic is the reason why #its 35000 words and all they've done it drive to SF flirt and watch judge judy #although at least 5k of that is spike monologuing about how hot zatanna is #because he has A Type #also zatanna is in this now #because john is 100% that asshole #so of course he turns up on his ex wife's doorstep with a strange vampire #with no warning #and expects her to put them up for the night #(there's also like 3000 words of people crying about nick necro because i am me)

[wildthought12]

Fall (1)

Description

You and Tom Holland friendship is anything but ordinary, the two of you have been the best of friends for more than half your lifetime.  The friendship seems relatively traditional on the outside until once people started befriending them than finding out the two are more than friends but less than lovers. 

 A/N: I want to write something that is pure crack.  This is my first time writing something with Tom Holland.  

Important Note: In this story, no one is famous!

Universe: Slice Of Life

Genre: Romcom & Maybe Smut 

"How am I a doofus?”

The question made him rolled his eyes, "Seriously Y/N? Are you for real right now? Why are you a Doofus? Did you not hear what came out of that mouth of yours, you dumbass?" That made you smack the back of his head as he hissed at you, "What the fuck you bitch."

"Damn it, Tom and Y/N can you two stop acting like children?" The calmest one in the room asked as he stared down at them, all he wanted to do was come down for a glass of water then head right back up the stair to his room to finish up some paperwork.  Instead, he's down here listening to a pair of best friend bicker about God knows what.  "It's her," Tom quickly said and pointed at you, "This gremlin right here needs your help to knock some sense into her.  Harrison, would you do the pleasure, and I don't know; you see stomping on her because I think all that studies on behavior is getting to her psychologist ass." Tom added then he gave your shoulder a shoved.  "You ass hole," You seethed then you couldn't help yourself so you lung and grabbed two handfuls of Tom's hair and started pulling.  Harrison's eyes open wide, "What the fuck," he said as he tries to pull You off of Tom, but instead of navigating you off of Tom, you somehow ended on Tom's lap with your legs wrapped around him.  "Don't fucking touch me, Harrison," You shouted not letting go of the hair that belongs to your best friend whom you had known more than half of your life due to the both of you being neighbors when you were younger.  "Get the fuck off of me, you witch," Tom scream as he does his best to push you off of him.

Harrison lets go of you immediately, knowing very well no matter how hard he pulls, you would not let go of Tom. It's a known fact for a girl you are strong when you want to be even Tom is no match for piss off Y/F/N Y/L/N.  "I'm going to call auntie," Tom said to her as he grabbed both of your hand, you loosen your grip at the mention of your mom. Which gave him the chance to flip you over, and you landed on your back with him hovering over you as Harrison stare on awkwardly.  A smirk made it's way to Tom's face, "Bloody hell, I don't care you, ass hole, " You said back not caring at the fact that Tom is now in control of the situation, having a good hold on your wrist right above your head.  "Listen here you witch, you're going to make me go bald one of these days," he said with a grin, the two of you are beyond comfortable with one another, there is no such thing as personal space between Tom Holland and Y/F/N Y/L/N.  "I mean if you like it rough all you gotta do is ask Love," Tom said with a wink making you rolled your eyes, "eww you piece of shit."

"Guys," Harrison called out deciding to break the two of you out of your own little world.  The focus on Harrison gave you a chance to kick Tom off of you, you sat up straight and gave the sweet male your undivided attention.  "I swear you two are going to end up going to jail one day or killing one another with your antics," Harrison said as he shook his head.  He has known the two of you forever now when becoming friends and roommate with Tom, at first he found your friendship odd, but over the years he got used to you both.

"I'm a detective, so I'm going to be able to pull some string while this chick here will get herself in the slammer for her stupid antics," Tom stated.  "I told you I'm not going to go to jail that shit only happens if I get caught, "You screech for what felt like the twenty times since telling him.

"Whoa whoa whoa jail?" Harrison whispers the last word acting like the three of them were in a library or something.  You rolled your eyes, "No one is going to go to jail, that only happens if I get caught which I fucking won't," you said, giving Tom a look.  Tom rolled his eyes, "Bitch is you stupid?" He said once again losing track of how many times he asked you if you're stupid.  Harrison ran his hand through his hair; yours and Tom friendship consist of you two calling one another the most pretentious names to the sweetest names.  "Bitch I'm a psychologist I am not stupid," you said with a matter of fact tone.  "I think you need someone to evaluate your ass," Tom said, then gave you a little shove causing you to grunt, "you need one."

"I think all of those criminal cases are getting to your head," You said with a smirk.

Tom rolled his eyes and points at you, “I think you should have Liam for an evaluation.” He said bringing up your co-worker slash friend. You rolled your eyes and responded, “I think you should transfer to a different department being part of narcotic is not good for you, Mate. I think too much drugs for Tommy is no good.” 

"Mate as your roommate, I demand you tell her how stupid she is," Tom said and pointed at you.  "For fuck sake will one of you tell me what's going on? All I wanted was a god damn glass of water then head back up to my room to work on a new sale pitch, but instead, I'm standing here watching you two fight like animals." 

“I’m getting married!” 

“Congratulations?” The word came out of Harrison’s mouth more like a question; he didn’t even know you were seeing anyone let along long enough to marry the person. “Over my fucking dead body, Y/N,” Tom chimed in and shook his head. “I already decided Tom, and I told you,” you said once again, and Harrison nodded now, understanding the situation a little better. “And I said no, you fool,” Tom said with a father like nature that only made you roll your eyes. “You’re not my dad,” you stated, “like hell, I’m not, but I know damn well that uncle would not agree to this shit.” Since both of you grew up together, you called each other parent’s aunt and uncle.

“Come on, Tom, you’re unreasonable,” You said with a pout, grabbing one of his arms and shook it, wanting him to lighten up.  Tom gave you a what the fuck look, “I’m unreasonable? Love, are you serious?” He asked, and you nod, “I think you are,” You replied then looked up Harrison, “Harrison tell him he’s unreasonable.”

Harrison let out a groan as he waved both his hand in the air, “I can’t say shit if I don’t know what the fuck you two are arguing about.”

“You see it all started at a bar,” You said with a smile as you begin to tell the story.  Tom rolled his eyes, “Oh bloody hell get to the story, mate.” You shoot a glare as he glared back, and that made Harrison even more annoyed.

” TELL ME THE GOD DAMN STORY BEFORE I GO BACK UPSTAIRS AND LET YOU BOTH KILL ONE ANOTHER.”

“Well damn,” You and Tom both said at the same time as you both stare at one another and back at Harrison. “Anyways as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by this fucker,” You said and gestured to Tom causing the two male to rolled their eyes. “As you know John is graduating from university next week which means his student visa is going to expire and he has mentioned to us on several occasion that he loves Englands and wants to live here.  The problem with that is he has to leave and shit so last night while drinking with him, Liam, Emma, Sam, and Jack. I told him that I would marry him so he could stay in England.”

“Stupid right?” Tom asked with a smirk on his face, “How the fuck is that stupid? I want to help a friend out.” You defended yourself, and Tom shook his head, “your ass was intoxicated last night hence the reason I had to pick your ass up and bring you here.”

You shook your head, “even if I weren’t drunk, I would offer the same solution because I’m a nice person.” 

“HA! Nice my fucking ass, let’s not forget I have known you most of my life love.  Nice my ass, you’re the same eight-year-old little girl that told my five-year-old ass that if I step on a dog tails, sweets will fall from the sky.” You and Harrison burst out laughing at Tom’s story, giggling to the point that tears were falling from both of your eyes. “Oh my god! What kind of person believes that?” You said as he glared at you, you placed your hand on his thigh, squeezing it, “Tommy, you were so god damn gullible.” Tom rolled his eyes, “Bitch I was five-year-old of course, I was gullible.” 

You shook your head, “Poor Chubby had no idea what was coming,” talking about the dog. “Thank god he didn’t bite my cute ass,” Tom shook his head, remembering the dog from across the street as you and Harrison went on laughing. 

“Alright back to this witch, tell Y/N it’s a stupid idea.  Marrying someone so they could stay in England is the dumbest idea ever, not being a good friend.  If you want to be a good friend to John, you take him out to dinner or something and congratulate him on his MBA degree not give him a bloody marriage certificate.”

“I can’t back out now; you should’ve seen the look in his eyes. My offer made him happy.”

“That is not your problem, you fool,” Tom hissed once again.  You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, “John really wants to stay here,” you told the both of them. “I agree with Tom though; it’s not a good idea to get into a fake marriage so that John can stay.  The scheme can land you up in jail; it’s already a bad move that you even told Tom whose a cop.” Harrison said, and you rolled your eyes, “Not a bad move when the cop is the person I trust the most.”

“Then listen to the person you trust the most,” Tom said as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and just laying your head on his shoulder. “I want to help John out, him staying in England is an excellent opportunity for him,” you let out a sigh. “Then tell his ass to find a job that will give him a working visa, and down the line, his ass can find someone to fall in Love with him, and he can get married with for real.  That solution is a much better one Love, where you won’t end up in jail.  I would hate to see you in handcuffs not to mention you get jail time and all John would get is a ticket back to New Zealand. That’s a shit deal on your end, and you aren’t going to get shit out of this,” Tom snapped.

You looked up at Tom whose face is inches away from yours and pout, “I get to help him out now that’s nice.”

“I’ll disown you, Y/N “he quickly said back, the two of you never breaking eye contact with one another.  Harrison, on the other hand, lets out a groan, the two of you look like you are in the process of kissing, “you two can solve your own shit, I have things to do,” and with that, he made his way back up to his room. “You wouldn’t dare,” you press back then cupped his face and a smirk appears on Tom’s face. “Listen to me you Witch; I’m telling you one more time that this is the dumbest shit you have ever said and that said a lot because it’s you, Y/N, and you have said a lot of stupid shit.”

You caress his face, “but you love me,” you cutely said to him as you made a face. “Sadly, I do,” Tom said with a smile then push you away from him, “I still refuse for you to marry John for the sake of him staying.”

“Come on, mate,” You softly said as you lay your head on his lap, you looked up at him, “I need you to agree with me.”

Tom looked down at her, “I’ll have you arrested, Love,” he said as he brushes the hair away from your face to get a better view.

The thing with the both of you, you both won’t do anything if either one of you does not agree with it.  It has always been like that growing up; if Tom did not agree with you, you would not go through with it.  Everyone in the entire world can be against you as long as he was right there next to you with that smile of his, you feel at ease.  The two of you have been through almost every major stepping stone with one another; you told each other everything to the point there was nothing left.  Tom and you know all about one another first date, first kiss, when you both lost your V card, the start of Menstruation, Etc.  Every milestone you both come across in life, you both always went through it together, middle school graduation, high school graduation, university graduation, first interview, first job, all the first. “You wouldn’t do that to me,” the tone of your voice was softer than you excepted, “that would be cruel Tommy,” you added then play with his left hand that’s resting nicely on your stomach.  Tom let out a sigh, “I want you to think straight Love.  Marriage is not something to joke about; that’s a fucked up concept to fool.  Pretending to date is one thing, but this whole shit will be on file and just, so you know, you will be followed by the government wanting to make sure this entire shit is real.  Not only that, they are going to interview you two all the time as well to make sure your story matches, and if it doesn’t, an investigation will be launch.”

“See you know so much so you can help me,” you smile wide at him as he let out a scoff, “over my dead body.”

“THOMAS!”

“You can sleep alone then,” Tom said to you, which made you closed your mouth.  You had gotten used to sleeping with him next after your roommate Lisa moved out a few months ago, and you haven’t been able to find a new roommate that fit your standards.  Since then, you have been sleeping at Tom’s house and vice verse, you have gotten used to having his arms wrapped around you when sleeping. “Why do you hate me?” you spoke again, Tom rolled his eyes, “you know damn well that’s the furthest thing from the truth you brat.”

 The Next Day 

 “That’s fucked up!”

Tom shrugged not taking his eye away from his computer monitor as his partner in front of him spoke. “The only person that’s fucked up in this situation is Y/N because I warn that Witch,” he said with a matter of fact tone. “It just sounds like she wants to do a favor for John and I see nothing wrong with that,” the man said, grabbing Tom’s attention, “What do you even know Nick?” 

Nick chuckled at the younger respond; he didn’t mind; he was used to Tom up and down behaviors; after all, they were partners for a few years now. “I know Y/N would kill you if you report John to immigration,” Nick said while laughing, he couldn’t hold in his laughter at Tom’s rant on calling immigration to deport John back to New Zealand. “That Witch will not kill me; my mom will kill her if she kills me,” Tom laughed.  Nick shook his head, “you two are so fucking weird,” he replied, knowing the depth of the friendship that Tom shared with you.  Tom raised an eyebrow, “and you’re any better? Let’s not fucking forget that you made me stop at KFC while we were in the middle of a drug investigation, Mate?” He said with a matter of fact tone, the two of them are part of Narcotics. “Mate, we still did a drug bust and caught all those mother fuckers. I can’t catch crackheads with an empty stomach, so forgive me for being hungry,” Nick snapped back at his partner.  Tom shrugged, “I don’t give a fuck,” he waved him off.

“Anyways,” Nick began as he put his pen down from whatever report he was doing, “I thought you and John are cool.” 

“I never said anything about me not being cool with John,” Tom said, confused by Nick’s statement. “Then what’s the problem? I mean it sounds like Y/N just wants to help a friend out which I think it’s darn kind of her,” Nick pointed out.  Tom rolled his eyes, “Kind? Lending him some money for whatever the fuck he needs is bloody kind,” he preached then added, “but this whole fucking fake marriage shit her dumbass wants to pull is not kind.”

“Calling immigration for no reason is not any better than what Y/N’s trying to do,” Nick implied to him. “We can’t save everyone Nick, and if I can save one person, I’m going to save my bitch of a best friend,” Tom grumbled getting a bit annoyed that no one understands him.  Nick burst out laughing, “you’re an ass, you know that right?” That question earns him a middle finger from Tom himself. 

“What’s up with him? He’s so testy today more than usual,” the person that stopped by their desk questioned the two. “Our little Thomas is in a bit of a pissy mood today Miles,” Nick answered the older guy.  Miles raises an eyebrow, “Nick face just piss me off every time I enter the precinct,” Tom stated. “I know the feeling,” Miles said as he made a face and added, “That’s how I feel every time, Cam greets me.” Leave it to Miles to cause laughter within the precinct; he was talking about Cam another detective who works at the front desk that greets people that come into the precinct. “Any who why are you so testy kid?” Miles asked Tom, even though years have passed since Tom rookie days, Miles is used to calling him kid more than his actual name. “Y/N wants to marry John, so John doesn’t have to go back to his country,” Nick answered for his partner.  

“Dude! What the fuck,” Tom said glaring at Nick, “Miles does not care,” Nick defended his action.  Miles rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to snitch on your girl beside this is the Narcotic department and not immigration.”

“I never said she was doing it; I said she was thinking about it,” Tom snorted.

Nick points at his partner, “If anything he wants to call immigration to get John in trouble,” he told Miles.  The oldest out of the three gasps, “What? John Brown is so nice; he always offers to pay every time we go out for drinks now that’s a stellar guy,” Miles kindly said. “I never said he wasn’t nice,” Tom groans not wanting to speak about the topic any longer with the two of them. “Unless you think he’s no good for England, then I will back you up on your claim,” Miles softly said so that only Tom and Nick can hear him. “Dude, that’s fucked up,” Nick said while laughing and Miles shrugged, “The kid is family, so I have his back.”

“Thanks but I don’t need it,” Tom said as he shook his head.

At times the men he works with can be a lot, but at the end of the day, they are his family.  Everyone in Tom’s department is like family; they do their best to even hang out with one another outside of work. Also attending one another’s birthday, wedding, whatever life event they would all try to be there.  Miles was the one that took Tom under his wing when he was new to Narcotics but being him; Tom became one of the best at his job even being better than Miles at times.  Out of everyone at their department, Nick and Miles know all about Tom, and Y/N’s, the two of them are even friends with you as well.  Being partners with Tom for most of his career now, Nick, always without a doubt, hears about all of his builds up frustration with you.

“You and Y/N just need to fuck and get over with it, all this build up sexual tension is not good for you, Mate,” Miles said, shaking his head.  Tom let out a grunt, “I’m serious, no one knows what’s up with you two like yall are more than friends but less than lovers. That’s confusing as fuck; I’m just saying just fuck, so you don’t be butthurt about this John shit.”

“How about confessing?”

“Oh gee, thanks for the advice, Nick, I wish, I have thought of that,” Tom sarcastically said, “Damn, I wish I fucking thought of that.”

“No need to be a dick,” Nick mumbled then went back to finishing up his report. “She always thinks I’m joking, so she kinds of just brush me off, that bitch,” Tom shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair.  Miles chuckle, “you two are never single at the same time and now yall have been for over a year now and nothing.  Kid, you and Y/N are a weird case of I love you, but at the same time what the fuck is going on with Y’all type of people.” Tom rolled his eyes at Miles statement, no one understands you and him and to be quite honest neither, did he. Why weren’t you guys a couple yet? It’s not for the lack of trying on his part, but something always seems to cause you two to step back from one another when things are just about to advance a bit further.

“I’ll just have to call Jimmy from Immigration to arrest Y/N and John if her dumbass goes through with the marriage,” Tom said in a very casual manner. “Mate, that’s fucked up,” Nick said, but Tom was not bothered by that statement. “That’s my boy, that’s how you do it, petty level 100,” Miles proudly said as he gave Tom a few pats on the back.

“Y/N will kill you.”

“Y/N will do no such thing.”

“What won’t I do?” The three men turned around to see you standing there with a smile on your face, “What are you doing here?” Tom asked, surprised to see you, “I came to visit you, duh.”

“Ewww, why did Cam let you in?” Tom grunts loudly, “Oh shut up you, dick,” you snorted at him.  Miles chuckle, “It’s good to see you Y/N,” he greeted you before leaving; he had to get back to his desk to finish his work. “So what are you two talking about?” you asked as your eyes dart from Nick to Tom, “Mind your god damn business, Love,” your best friend said to you. “You two are fucking weird, I’m going on my break,” Nick said as he stood up from his desk and walked away from you both. 

“Did you take your lunch break yet?” You asked him as you held tightly onto your yellow cross body bag.  The good thing about working for in private practice, you were able to call the shot yourself and take appointments as you please along with breaks as you please.  Tom shakes his head, “not yet,” he told you. “Great,” you said as you took a step forward, grab his pen and place it down on the table, “take it now.”

“I don’t want to.” 

You shrugged, “I didn’t ask if you want to or not,” you said then grabbed his right hand, holding it with your left hand and intertwine your fingers together.  You smile down at him, “Lunch is on me,” you said as your wiggling your eyebrows.  Tom chuckle, how could he say no to you? That stupid smile of yours always made it hard for him to say no, “okay,” he mumbles. “Yay, now get up because you’re too heavy for me to pull up,” you said as you did your best to pull him up.  Tom laughed and got up from his seat, he let go of your hand to grab his jacket, he then put on his coat, “let’s go,” he said and grabbed your hand and head out of the precinct. 

“It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” You asked him as you swing yours and Tom’s hands up and down as you walk to your usual lunch spot. “I guess,” he replied which made you rolled your eyes at his response, “Okay moody pants,” You said with a smile.

“I’m not moody, and the sun is literally in my eyes, Love,” Tom said with a matter of fact tone as the two continue walking towards their destination. “What a big baby you’re, Thomas,” You said as you rolled your eyes, instead of responding to you, he allows you to lead him to the restaurant.  You let out a laugh, for as long as you have known one another, Tom is always whining about something, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t complain or whine about something.

“I can’t wait to eat all the bread,” You announced the moment you got into the booth at your favorite restaurant.  You loved the fact that Tom’s workplace was close to your favorite place to eat at, and you love the bread. “Don’t eat all of the Brown one you Witch,” Tom said with a grin, the two of them are forever fighting over the Brown color Bread, it’s a known fact that it tastes the best compared to the regular eggshell colored bread. You rolled your eyes, “The workers know the deal, they only bring the Brown one now,” you states with a matter of fact tone. 

 Tom chuckle, “It’s because you are a cry baby,” he said remembering that one time when you was on your period, how you just burst into tears because he ate the last piece of the Brown bread. “You should’ve been a nice best friend and gave it to me,” you pouted cutely at him. “Oh, god, I always give you whatever you want. Don’t use the one time where I was striving against me,” he said, shaking his head.

“Anyways,” You started as you cross your hands together and smiles at him, “did you think about what I said before bed last night?” You asked him, and that made him remember their last night pillow talk before bed. “Do you remember?” You asked a follow-up question, of course, he recalls, Tom always remembers everything that happens with you.  Last night was no different from any other night, your head resting against his chest, the two of you in a spooning position with his arms wrapped around your waist tightly not wanting to lose you. “What makes you think my answer would change? Just because you asked me to think about it right before we went to bed?” Tom raises an eyebrow, and You had asked him to sleep on the idea of you helping out John.  You told him that you did not know how to go back on your words and you did not want to face John, after all, it was your idea. “I gave you the best cuddle of my life,” You declared like a child not getting what you want. “Fuck off, Mate,” Tom said as you shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, “I have had better.” 

You let out a dramatic gasp, “How dare you,” you said doing your best to be serious, but you just ended up laughing.  Tom rolled his eyes, “I’m looking out for you; this is not what you want to do trust me, and your parents would not approve.” 

“Oh god, they won’t approve of anything, the only thing they would approve of if I marry you.” 

The two of you laugh knowing how true your statement is, not just your parent’s but his as well.  No matter how many time you and Tom told them that you two were the best of friends, both of your parent’s did not care.  The rent did not care how many significant others the two of you brought home; they were never satisfied with the person. “Then you should marry me then,” he said half joking and half serious. “Oh for bloody sake marriage is not a joke,” You said, and he raises an eyebrow, “Funny that you’re saying that when it comes to me.  When all you have been doing is wanting me to support your dumb ass jail scheme for the sake of John.”

You let out a sigh, “I just want to be a good friend. And he’s always talking about wanting to stay, and that just makes me feel bad. I know I shouldn’t have drunk so much that night, and maybe I wouldn’t have blurred out such nonsense that I most likely wouldn’t be able to go through.”

“I know that you did not drag me out from my desk to talk about this,” Tom said with a sigh, he did not want to talk about John any longer. When he’s spending time with you, Tom rather you both not discuss other people and just talk about one another or Harrison. “Sorry,” You said, shaking your head as you took a sip of water.  Before anyone can speak once more, the waitress came over to talk both of your orders, Tom order for the both of you.

“His visa isn’t going to expire the moment he graduates; he has time to job hunt and get a working visa.  There is others option out there that does not involve your ass in jail.”

“Right,” you said then looked up at him with a smile, he’s right, you did not drag him to eat with you to talk about someone else. “How is your day going?” You decided to change the subject; you knew you were getting him a bit pissed off with your nagging of the topic of a fake marriage. “Same shit just different day,” Tom shrugged his typical answer that made you laugh. “If you hate your job that much, why are you still doing it?” You asked, and he shook his head, “I don’t hate my job, I love beating crackhead up.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“I’m your dick,” he said with a wink making you smile, knowing that he was no longer annoyed with you. “Sadly yes,” you laugh then added, “you know people that are crackhead don’t have a choice? Addiction is an evil thing.” Tom shook his head, “Listen, Love, I don’t need your psychologic speech where people can’t help themselves because it’s an addiction.”

“It’s true,” you defended your statement, and he waved you off, “You and I deal with different people. I’m dealing with people that are dealing it with other people that put lives at risk, so these people deserve to serve time.  While you, on the other hand, see people that want to change themselves and they are telling you why they choose that route. Baby, you are dealing with people that are going through fucked up shit in their life, so you are attached, I’m not.”

“Life is hard,” you sadly said just thinking about people who are affected by the evil of drugs. “It is but hey shit happens and you deal with it,” Tom shrugged, such a man’s respond you though to yourself, so typical of him. “How’s work for you?” Tom asked back, and a smile appears on your face, You always loved when people ask you about your day, especially when he asked. “I had to take over one of Liam’s patient, remember the woman. I told you that she was falling in love with him?” You laughed, and Tom nodded, “The lady that asked her husband for a divorce?” He asked, and you nodded while smiling, “Yes, well today she came in with her best outfit and what not, and she tries to have sex with Liam.  It was hilarious; I wish you were there to witness it yourself, the look on Liam’s face. This lady was chasing after him that he had to hide behind me,” you laugh as you’re retelling the story. “She has an obsession with Liam; it’s crazy, he needs to stop making client fall in love with him then again it’s not his fault that he’s charming.”

“Are you falling for him?” Tom suddenly asked you, your eyes open wide and shook your head, “Fuck no! Liam is handsome, and all but that man is weird,” you said, talking about your co-worker. “How did you guys get her to leave him alone?” He asked, “I told her that Liam and I are lovers.”

“WHAT!”

“It got her to leave him alone,” You said, “What’s up with you? Are you trying to be with everyone, you Witch?” Tom blurred out as you raise an eyebrow, “First you want to marry John, and now you are Liam’s lover.”

You burst out laughing, “chill the fuck out; I’m just trying to be a kind friend just like I would do for you.”

“I’m different,” Tom defending himself but instead of adding on to the topic of the two of them, you changed the subject feeling awkward. “Yay food is here,” You happily said as the waitress placed the plates down.

“Stealing,” You grabbed a piece of fries off of his plate and shoved it into your mouth. “I would be more surprised if you didn’t steal any fries off my plate,” Tom asserted, after all, you were always stealing food from him, and he was used to it. “It’s a force of nature now,” You proudly told him as he rolled his eyes at your respond. “A horrible force of nature if you ask me,” he growled which made her laugh, “I know, but you love me so who cares.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “While you’re out there trying to be everyone else’s lover.”

“Oh gosh,” You said waving him off, “That woman was going to eat Liam alive had I not helped him. I mean, you should have seen the look in her eyes; it was like he was a piece of meat of some sort.”

“Liam needs to get laid anyways; maybe it wouldn’t have been a bad idea,” Tom nonchalantly said then took a bite of his burger. “That is true but I rather he has sex on his own free will instead of it been pushed upon him,” You said with a smile then took a spoonful of your Cajun pasta. “Who knows he might end up liking it,” Tom said with a shrugged making you laugh, “how cynical of you.”

“I wouldn’t say cynical more like I’m looking out for my fellow bro,” Tom told you with a grin. “It’s against the rules to be dating a client, and that applies to sleeping one as well. I’m pretty sure Liam would rather keep his license intact instead of screwing around.”

“Who knows what anyone wants anymore,” Tom shrugged and added, “I don’t even fucking know what I want out of life anymore!”

“SOOOO Dramatic Thomas,” You crowd and pointed at him, “By the way we are going drinking tonight.” 

Later That Night

 “Why are you out? When clearly all you want to do is be in bed.”

Tom took a sip out of his beer, “I already told the brat that I would come out to drink with her, so here I am.”

Harrison chuckle, “can never say no to Y/N now, can you?” It wasn’t a question because Harrison already knew the answer, no matter how tired Tom is, he will always be there for Y/N. The pair have always been couple like since he has known them, but it’s only gotten a bit more intimate these following six months since Lisa moved out of Y/N’s apartment.  It did not matter what time of the day it was, or how busy Tom was if you needed him, he was out the door in a flash. “It’s a lot easier for me to bring her ass home instead of her drunk ass calling me to come get her.” 

That’s the truth, being at the club with you is a lot easier for Tom, he was already with you instead of being in bed worrying about you than falling asleep then having your drunken call wake him up at whatever time. “Looks like your princess needs your saving,” Harrison gestured to the bar where you are, and by the looks of it, you were doing your best to brush off the strangers next to you. “What the fuck, do people not get the concept of no?” Tom said right before leaving his spot next to Harrison, making his way towards you.

“Come on, let me buy you a drink,” Tom heard the man say, follow by your no thank you. “The lady told you she’s good,” Tom said the moment he approaches you. “Mind your own business,” the man turned to Tom, “No, you mind your stuff if you don’t want any problem, Mate” Tom then open his jacket, flashing his badge. “Whoa man,” the man put his hands up then quickly walked away. “You’re such an ass,” You tease, “Oh so you rather I let him bother you for the rest of the night?”

“Kidding,” You protested then grabbed his hand before he could leave your side. “I told you not to wear that,” he gestured towards your tight black dress that left little to imagine. You rolled your eyes, “It’s a club, you don’t expect me to wear a maxi dress now, do you?”  You questions and he shrugged, “It would make my job a lot easier had you wore one,” he said as you moved closer to him. “Whatever,” You said, pulling him closer to you, “Imma buy you another drink, you need another one,” you stated then turned back to the bartender. “This chick,” Tom mutter to himself, he removes his hand from yours then stood behind you like a shield so no one can stare at your ass. “An order of Blue Moon please,” he heard you tell the bartender, “don’t even think about it,” Tom said to the person next to him looking like he was about to approach you, “not today,” he said then placed one of his hand on your waist. “I fucking hate you for wearing this stupid shit,” he whispers into your ear as he pinches the thin fabric to prove a point. You turn around and smiles, “you do not,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck and shook your head. “You’re a piece of shit for wearing it,” he said as you place his hands on your hips. “It’s not my fault that people are looking but if I do say so myself my ass looks banging in this dress,” you compliment yourself. Tom looked down for a moment then back at you, “I agree, but now you have all these thirsty men wanting you.”

“Who fucking cares, they can all look,” You said with a shrugged as he was about to respond another person came over. “What the fuck Y/N,” they both heard, You turn to see who the voice belongs to and smile. “Hey girl hey,” you greeted the said female with a smile, “you hussy,” the woman said, pointing at you.  You frown for a moment, taking your arms off of Tom and pulling yourself away from him, “Me?” You asked as Tom stares at the whole thing really confused, he didn’t understand why you are being called a hussy. “I’m a hussy?” You asked confused as you stare at the lady in front of you, “Yeah you bitch, how the fuck can you cheat on Liam?”

“Ah,” both you and Tom nodded now getting the situation now. “Kelly, it’s not what yo--,” You couldn’t even finish your sentence when Kelly interrupted you, “I’m going to tell Liam on you,  you two-timing hussy.” Tom, on the other hand, was doing his best to hold in his laughter as this Kelly woman is throwing all types of insult at his best friend. “Tell me what?” A wild Liam appears next to you and Tom with a smile on that handsome face of his. “Liam, I found this hussy cheating on you,” Kelly said, pointing at you causing Liam to burst out laughing, he didn’t have as great composure compare to Tom.  Kelly frown, “Why are you laughing? She’s cheating on you with this man,” she said, pointing at Tom which made him rolled his eyes.

Tom is just staring at you, Liam, and Kelly, thinking to himself how this whole thing would resolve.  Kelly is over here ranting about god knows what, he stops listening to her after the fifth time she called you a hussy, while at the same time calling him handsome but that still does not give you a valid reason to cheat on Liam.

“She’s not cheating on me.”

“I’M NOT?/ SHE’S NOT?”

“Of course not,” Liam said with a big smile as he walks towards you and Tom, he inserted himself between them. “The three of us are one,” he cheekily said as he wraps his arms around you and Tom. “Say what now?” Tom asked and looked at Liam, “you three?” Kelly asked, pointing at the three. “Yes, yes, we are boyfriends and girlfriend,” You proudly said going along with Liam mess of a story while Tom, on the other hand, is now in a state of shock by this new revelation. “Ploy relationship?” Kelly slowly asked, “Yes, you are indeed correct,” Liam flash her his famous smile. “It’s fun you should try it,” you said with a wink.

“No thanks,” Kelly quickly responded then walked away immediately from them not sparing them a single glance. “Oh my god, did you see the look on her face?” You said as you and Liam burst out laughing. “I think we lost a client,” Liam stated, but the two of you kept on laughing.  

“What the fuck was that?” Tom finally spoke as he pushes Liam away from you and him. “The three of us are in a relationship, duh,” Liam said with a shrugged as You giggles and agreeing with him. “There is no three of us you ass,” Tom shook his head and turned to you whose just laughing your ass off, “it’s not that funny.” 

“Live a little Thomas,” You said and poked his cheek trying to make him smile, but it didn’t work. 

“Do you think she followed us here?” Liam asked you, walking over to stand next to you. “I wouldn’t put it past her, she’s crazy as fuck,” you said, shaking your head, “you’re a good girlfriend,” Liam joked then put his arm around you. “I know, I’m like the best so you should treat me to food,” you said, putting your head on his shoulder. “I’ll treat you to food on Monday,” Liam said, then turn to Tom, “you can come too since you helped.” 

“Against my fucking will,” Tom barked eyeing you and Liam carefully. “Oh shit your beer,” You remember, you pulled yourself away from Liam and to the bartender. “What did I tell you about touching her?” Tom asked as he pulled the older male towards him, “My bad dude, it was an in the moment thing,” Liam defending himself. Tom rolled his eyes, “It won’t be at the time when I arrest you for being part of a drug ring.” 

“You bastard,” Liam said while laughing as he listens to the same threats once more.

Jealously is a bitch!

“What are you going to plant drugs in my office or something?” Liam tease his younger friend, he finds it funny as hell, and it brought him great joy when it came to the story of Tom and Y/N. “I might if you keep teasing me,” Tom said with a shrugged while Liam rolled his eyes, “you two are fucking weird.”

“Weird? No,” Tom said, shaking his head, “Batshit crazy a little, I will agree to that,” he added.

“IM BACK BOYFRIENDS,” You loudly said over the music and hand them both a drink, “your Blue Moon and Liam, I order you, your usual Henny and Coke.”

“Best girlfriend ever,” Liam said with a smirk, “Don’t push my button, Mate,” Tom mutter just before taking a sip out of his beer.  Liam, on the other just laugh, he just really enjoys teasing the fuck out of both of them.

“Greatest friends you guys are leaving me alone,” Harrison commented as he stood in front of the three of them. “Took you long enough to join us,” Tom said with a grin which earns him a middle finger from his roommate. “Y/N is a hussy, did you know that?” Liam asked which made you burst out laughing while Harrison stare in confusion then looked at Tom. “Don’t ask me these two are weird as fuck,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s so mean to say about your boyfriend and girlfriend,” You said as you wrapped your hands around his free arm. 

 “Boyfriend and Girlfriend?” Harrison question his roommate, and Tom shook his head, “Trust me, and you do not want to know.”

You looked up at Tom and smile at him, “Tom is Liam and me, boyfriend.  The three of us are in a poly relationship,” you announced. Liam burst out laughing as he stares at Harrison, “Shit dude, look at your face,” he called out. “I mean I didn’t even know you three were into that but fuck if you are, I’m cool with it,” Harrison nodded his head.

“Don’t believe these bastards,” Tom said, shaking his head as the two. “Live a little babe,” You murmured, you tiptoe to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

 The Next Day

  “Drink some more water instead of complaining,” Liam said then place the cold water bottle right in front of you. “Why is it so hot?” You groan before grabbing the water and drinking it, the sun was beaming down on you, and it didn’t help that you had a massive hangover from last night. Why couldn’t you listen to Tom? Why are you such an alcoholic and drank so much to the point Tom had to carry you home? “I just want to go back to bed and sleep this hangover away,” you said as you stare up at Liam whose standing beside you eating a hot dog. “Want some?” He offers some of his food, and you shook your head, “I’m going to puke if I eat anything,” you inform him. “Suit yourself,” he shrugs, “How are you okay right now? You drank a shit ton of Henny and Coke last night,” you stated the obvious. “Unlike you my friend, I know how to pace myself, and I remember that your ass volunteers me to sell baked goods at this fundraiser,” he said with a smirk as he stares at everyone at the park.  

Today was the usual fundraiser that the police in their city did once a year to raise money for youth.  Tom had asked you if you wanted to help out and of course, you said yes, and along with that, you sign up a bunch of your friends as well stating it was for the greater good so of course, they couldn’t say no. “Why didn’t you remind me? Had I remember, I wouldn’t have gone ham,” you held on to your pounding head as you stare in the middle of the field where all the officers are posing for pictures and what not for their next year calendar.

“Ummm your man should’ve reminded you,” Liam said and gesture to Tom who is standing there shirtless and what not. “I hate him, he dragged me out of bed and made me come,” you hissed, staring at Tom whose smiling away.  Liam laughs and nudges her, “Smile, a little girl, and her mom coming this way,” he said, and you did as told. “Hello, what would you like?” you sweetly asks the little girl and her mother, “go ahead and say what you want,” the mother said to her daughter. “That one,” the little girl said, pointing to the Red Velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting, “awesome choice that one is my favorite,” Liam flashed a smile. The little girl smiles cutely at Liam and nods her head, “That will be a dollar please,” you said, and the mother hands her the dollar, “thank you,” they all said as the duo took their leave.

“So, what’s up with you and Tom now?” Liam wiggles his eyebrows, he took a seat next to you.  You raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” you answer his question by asking him a question, “I mean you two? Y/N, you barely go back to sleep at your place, and when you do, Tom is there sleeping there as well.”

You shook your head, “I don’t like sleeping alone, I love body heat.  Is that a crime to love body heat? And If I must say so myself, his body is fire, and he’s my best friend.” You glance over at Tom quickly and back to Liam. “Y/N, you slept alone before this whole weird shit just happen six months ago,” he rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s my best friend,” You shrugged, but you knew Liam was not satisfied with your answer. “Best friends that are basically lover,” he stated the obvious.

“It’s not that simple, and Tom thinks I’m joking half the time,” you professed.

“You two play too much that’s your problem,” Liam claimed, and you let out a sighs knowing how valid those words are, you can be a bit much at times. “I was so horny last night, Liam,” you pouted as you began your story, “I haven’t had sex for almost a year now.”

“Damn, that’s a long time not to get any,” he shook his head, “No shit,” you barked then grabbed one of the cookies and shoved it into your mouth. “Y/N, that’s a cookie, not a dick, so imma need you to chill because there are children here.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed which made him laugh, “I’m not the man you’re trying to fuck, he’s over there,” Liam gesture his head to Tom. “I try that last night, and he won’t give me some either,” you admit.

“WHAT?”

“Why don’t you go grab the bullhorn from Harrison and announce it, why don’t you?” you growled and pointed to Harrison whose holding a bullhorn, Tom placed him on announcement duty and such. “Don’t test me mate because you know I would,” he proclaimed, causing you to close your mouth knowing very well what Liam says he does. “I got rejected, bitch claiming that I’m too drunk to know what I’m doing and made me go to sleep.  Tom made me go to bed; he changed me into my sleeping clothes and forced me to go to bed.”

“What a gentleman!”

"Gentlemen my fucking ass, that bastard is full of shit.  As my best friend, he should give me what I want because he knows when I'm drunk, I'm horny, " You groan as you did your best to remember what happened last night.  All you could remember is asking Tom for sex and his rejection. You let out a sigh and told Liam what you remember of last night.

 “Do you need me to do anything?” Harrison asked the moment they enter the house.  Tom shook his head while holding a drunk you on his back like a bag of potatoes, “Mate, I’m good, I got this; you go ahead and sleep.” He said, giving him a weak smile, “Good night then,” Harrison said then made his way to his room.  Tom, on the other hand, head to the kitchen with you in tote to grab a bottle of water, “Y/N, you always have to go hard, don’t you?” He hissed knowing very well that your motto, go big or go home and of course you always go big.  He then made his way up the stairs into his room, he dropped you softly on the bed and sighed, “You’re going to feel everything tomorrow.”

“Tommy,” you slurred, grabbing his hand as he was about to head to the draws to get you some clothes. “Yes, baby?” He sweetly answers, taking a seat next to you, “I-im horny,” You began as your eyes flicked open and stared at him. “Can we please have sex?” you whine in your drunken state as he sighs, “I think you had too much to drink, it’s time to go to sleep baby,” he cooed. Tom’s respond made you toss and kicked like a baby.  You aren’t one to be mature when it comes to drinking and being drunk; you were always the one that caused a bit of a scene just like you’re doing right now. “Baby girl, you and I have a long day ahead tomorrow, so we both need to sleep.” Tom sweetly said, when you’re in your drunken state he always used sweet pet names with you instead of their usual Witch, Bitch, Fool, and such. “I want you inside of me,” you pouted, and that made him swallow hard.  One would think he would be used to your horny outburst by now before it wasn’t direct towards him because you did have your share of boyfriends and hooks up.  The thing that’s been going on with you both started after Lisa left, “Please go to sleep.”

“W-why, don’t you want me, Tommy?”

Tom took a deep breath, the way you were purring his name made it hard for him to control himself as well. “Tommy pay attention to me! I wore this tight dress to impress you,” your drunk ass told him.  Tom chuckle, “and you look fantastic in it, Love, but it’s time for bed,” he said, then placed a peck on her forehead.

“I want to have sex with you,” you cried once more than all of a sudden you pulled down the top of your dress revealing your Black lace bra. “I even wore your favorite bra,” you mutter as you closed your eyes.  Tom gulp hard staring at your breast, you were right those are his favorite bra, he has a thing for Black lace anything. “Are my boobs not big enough for you?” you asked him, and he shook his head, staring at his best friend whose obviously tired out of her mind and drunk at the moment.  He wonders if you would remember all of this in the morning, “they are perfect,” he mutters as he stares up at your face.

“Let’s get you into comfortable clothes,” he said, getting up off the bed and headed towards the draw.  There was no one in hell Tom was going to have sex with you for the first time when you are drunk, it’s not right, and he flat out refuses to no matter how horny you both felt.  

  “Rejection at it’s finest,” Liam proclaimed and laughed at your little problem. “I know! Am I not worthy of sex?” You asked him, and he laughs, “You can always get it from Jai, homie loves sex,” he said and pointed to their friend whose works in immigration.  You rolled her eyes, “No thanks, I heard he has a daddy kink, and I refuse to call anyone besides the man that gave me life daddy.”

Tom burst out laughing, “Hey, don’t judge him, we all have kinks,” he said with a grin. “I know, I’m just saying,” You said with a shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t say shit you are the girl that wants her best friend’s dick inside of her,” Liam tease causing your face to turn beet red. “I hate you, I’m never telling you anything again,” you said then began to shake Liam violently.

“What’s going on here?”

Liam yanked your hands off of him, “Your bitch of a best friend is trying to kill me. That’s what’s going on,” he said and pointed at you. “He’s annoying,” you said with a shrugged which made him laugh, “I rather you do not kill him in front of all these cops, it would be hard to bail you out Love,” Tom said with a smile. “Hey, I resent that,” Liam criticized but it was no use, it was going into deaf ears when you and Tom are near one another. “You resent a lot of things,” Tom rolled his eyes, “I resent you for not having a shirt on either,” Liam pointed at Tom’s abs.

“Those ladies over there are loving me,” Tom said and gestured to the females that are gawking at him. “Disgusting,” You mutter softly but loud enough for the two men to hear you. “Don’t be jealous you Witch, you get to see more than them,” he teases you making your cheek heats up and turn red in embarrassment. “Imma need you two to relax and act like a normal pair of fucking best friends for a moment.”

“Define, normal?”

“The complete opposite of y’all,” Liam loudly declared as he pointed to the both of you.

“Ouuu John, my future husband is here,” You excitedly said as you waved. “He’s not your future husband you Witch,” Tom scolded you once again, but she shrugged not caring in the slightest.  

You smile as you got up from the baked table and ran to greet John.  Tom glared then turned to grab a cookie and shoved it into his mouth. “God damn it, what did the poor cookies ever do to you guys?” Liam yelped, staring at Tom gulp hard on the cookies then chugged the water that belongs to you.

“I’m going to deport his ass,” he preached then added, “who fucking invited him here?”

Liam gave him a what the fuck look, “you invited him, you invited us all that day we went out to eat for Mile’s birthday.” He reminded him, and that’s when he remembers that he did invite everyone to this fundraiser because he wants to raise money. “Y/N’s fake marriage plan cloud your memory?” Liam said with a smirk which earns him middle fingers from Tom.  

“I’m going to tell immigration and deport his ass,” he hissed.

“Dude, that’s cruel.”

“Then you can go with him,” Tom said with a shrugged not caring what nonsense came from his mouth. “I was born here you shit head,” Liam said with a matter of fact tone. “I can make it as you came here illegally, it’s not like we need a Liam Brown here,” Tom jeered as he pulled his pants up. “I would take your threat more seriously if you had on a shirt, but you’re shirtless in front of me and bitching about random shit.”

“Oh fuck you, Liam,” Tom rolled his eyes, “I like women,” Liam said with a reassuring tone. “That’s debatable; you have the biggest crush on Sammy who looks more manly than you and not to mention who’s a lesbian,” Tom said and pointed at his fellow cop whose selling raffle tickets.  Liam stares at the woman police officer who’s a total tomboy, “She’s still a she, so that still makes me straight you fuck face.”

“Hey guys,” John greeted the two with a smile on his face. “Thanks for coming, I’m so glad you could make it,” Tom said with a smile, changing his whole tone, different from moments ago. “Fake,” Liam told between coughs as everyone is staring at him while Tom, in particular, is glaring. “Them allergies is getting to Liam,” Tom said in between his teeth and Liam nod, laughing, “yeah.” 

“I have some allergies medicine in my car.  I can get you some if you want?” John offers, and Liam shook his head, “No, No, I’m good.” 

“John, do you want anything?” You asked as you pointed at all the baked goods on the table.  John smile and nods, “I’ll take whatever,” he said then grabbed a twenty dollar bills from his wallet and handed it to Liam. “I only want one thing so just give the other nineteen free to whoever comes,’ he kindly told him. “So nice,” Tom said through his teeth, “you’re just the best,” Liam added. 

John shyly laughs, “you guys are amazing, doing this to raise money for the city,” the compliment Tom. “We do our best,” the policemen said with a smile. 

“Best person ever,” You told him with a thumbs up as while he rolled his eyes.

“Y/N,” Tom called out once he notices a van pulling in the parking.  

“Yeah?”

“I have a surprise for you,” Tom told you and held up his hand for you to grab. “Ouuu, is it ice cream?” You asked as you intertwine your fingers together with Tom, “It would have melted by now you dummy.” You shrugged, “You’re Thomas Holland so you would have been able to manage,” you said with a smile. “We can go get ice cream later, but you are going to love this surprise,” he concluded.

“Oh my god, are you going to murder me?”

Tom looks down at you, “If I was going to kill your ass, why would I tell you that you will love the surprise? Who the fuck would love getting killed?” He hissed, and you shrugged, “I don’t know, you might be saying that to throw me off track.” You casually told him, “God damn it, you witch; you’re so fucking dumb,” he commented, once again leave it to you to turn everything into a big joke. “Sheesh, Louise, I’m kidding,” you said with a smile as you use her free hand to tug on his arm, “don’t be mad.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “you’re lucky cops are surrounding us,” he cheekily said, making you laugh. “You love me,” you cutely said and let him bring you somewhere. “I’m beginning to wonder if loving you is worth it anymore,” he joked and stopped right in front of a van. “What is this?” You asked him, and he smiles at him, “I wanted you to see it first before I let Maria bring them to the field.”

“Maria?” You said confused, then a tall female came out of the van and made her way towards them with a smile on her face. “That’s Maria,” Tom pointed at the tall girl, “Hi,” Maria kindly waved to you, “I’m Y/N.”

“Maria here works for a nonprofit animal shelter, and her goal today is to get all the dogs and cats in this van adopted.”

“OH MY GOD NO WAY,” You excitedly scream as you let go of Tom and cover your mouth, you started jumping up and down. “She’s excited,” Tom told Maria, and she laughs.

“You are telling me that inside that van are a bunch of fluffy animals?” You asked, and Maria nodded, “That’s right, they are all waiting to be love.” You clapped your hands, “I can do that, Oh my God, I can love the crap out of all the fluffy animals, omg omg omg omg omg.” Maria and Tom are just laughing at how adorable you are being. “Imma needs you to bring the excitement to a minimum,” Tom told you as grab your hand. “Love, can you do that for me? If you can’t, Imma need you to go back or else you are going to scare all the animals there, and Maria will not be able to let you see them.”

 You nod, “I’ll behave just let me see them,” you cutely said making him laugh. “Maria let her at them,” Tom said, letting go of your hand to allow you to follow Maria.  

 TBC 

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #best friend!tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic

[qqueenofhades]

Honestly don't know how no one has asked you to write this yet, especially since you're my first thought for this very painful prompt, but are you up for writing a fic where Lucy's gun had just one more bullet?

Anonymous said:  Can you write something where Flynn gets hurt on a mission and Lucy realizes she has feelings for him?

Right so. Have a slightly different and not at all painful take on the alley scene in 2x10.

Lucy can barely see through the haze as she paces back and forth, trying to work herself up to it. She wants to, every part and piece and atom of her wants to do it, and it’s not even going to be the first person she’s killed. She shot Jesse James from cool necessity, and the nameless soldier in 1918 because he was in the way, but this is the first time that she is trying to brink herself up to full, cold-blooded, revenge-fueled, furious murder, and it is not an easy bridge to cross. Not even if it’s Emma, who has taken so much from her, taken everything. Because there’s still a horrible voice in Lucy’s head whispering that Emma saved her life in 1919, even if for her own reasons, and that if she does this, if she shoots Emma now, it’s her own fault, her own sin. It’s not true, it’s not, and yet.

(Briefly, wildly, she thinks of Flynn in 1780, trying to bring himself to shoot John Rittenhouse, and the way she got between them and stopped him. She understands now the rage he must have felt, the heartbreak, at being torn away when it was in his grasp, and all of this could have ended.)

(No. No, no. She’s doing this. She’s doing this.)

Lucy marches forward, wild-eyed and inexorable, a little ball of rage in a striped-silk dress, as she reaches Emma, fallen in the corner, and presses the gun to her forehead. It’s still an instant where she can’t quite bring herself to it, and Emma senses it. “Lucy,” she says, looking up at her. “Please.”

For a split-second, it almost stalls her.

Then it doesn’t.

Lucy pulls the trigger.

Emma jerks her head aside just in the nick of time (of course, of course she wasn’t going to just let Lucy kill her, Lucy doesn’t know what she was playing at, she doesn’t care), but the bullet still gashes her face and leaves a bloody score along her temple, dripping into her eyes, as she lashes out ferociously and trips Lucy up. They go down in a tangle of long skirts and buttoned heels, punching and kicking, as Emma gets Lucy by the throat and slams her head into the bricks of the alley. Lucy sees stars, choking, the gun torn out of her fingers, as Emma bears down on her, eyes green and savage and merciless as a lioness. Whatever truce was established in 1919, that look says, it was very decidedly temporary. She saved Lucy’s life then, but she is going to take it now, and she will not turn a single hair. Not hesitate for a second, not –

“LUCY!”

Lucy has lost enough air that she’s starting to black out, even as she keeps thrashing like a fish on a line, even as a tall figure races around the corner, oddly favoring his right shoulder and gun held badly in his left hand. At the sight, Emma springs off Lucy and jumps to her feet, grabbing hold of Lucy and shoving her between them. She has used this tactic before to great success, putting Lucy between herself and the gun of a man who is not going to risk hurting her, and it’s plain she sees no reason to expect any different result. “Hey, Flynn,” she hisses, arm locked around Lucy’s neck. “I was wondering when you were going to get here. Not the kind of party you miss, is it?”

Flynn doesn’t answer, but Lucy can see the whites of his eyes. He raises his gun slowly, preparing to take the shot if Lucy tells him to, but she knows that not even he is a marksman with his left hand. It’s clear that he has been hit at least once, and Lucy is too far gone to give a damn, or trust anyone but herself to handle it. As Emma is engaged in thinking up some other taunt to throw at Flynn, Lucy stamps on her foot, grabs hold of her arm, and twists it off her neck. Then she dives at Flynn’s left hand, going for his gun, just as Emma lunges for the dropped pistol on the ground.

There is a cacophony of shots that all go off at once, echoing crazily. Emma grunts, reels, and staggers, pressing a hand to her ribs, where wet red is starting to ooze across the green silk. For once, she has nothing to say; it’s clear she’s badly hurt. She uses the last of her wherewithal to turn and run, and Lucy raises the gun, training it on Emma’s red curls – she will shoot the bitch in the back of the head and she will not give a single, a single damn –

– except then, Flynn collapses.

Attention torn off Emma, Lucy spins around. The word is a scared, desperate quaver. “Flynn?”

He has landed heavily on his side, hand on the ragged hole under his solar plexus, horrifyingly close to his heart. Lucy stares at it in blind, horrified, unthinking terror. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Her mother, Amy, Rufus, and now – no, Emma did not just do that. No, no, no, no. She can still run after Emma and finish her off, or –

“Flynn?” Lucy crawls to him on hands and knees, and reaches him as he falls backward into her lap. “Garcia?” She cups his cheek, her fingers sticky with blood. “Garcia, look at me!”

He does, though it takes a considerable effort. “Lucy,” he manages. “Lucy, get back to the others… Wyatt and Jiya… you have to – you have to go.”

“No.” Lucy’s hands shake as she shifts around and tries to lift him into her arms, despite him being a solid twice her size. “Get up, all right? Get up. You’re coming with me. You’re coming home. Please. Flynn, get up. Get up.”

He’s clearly in a lot of pain – this is not a minor wound – but with a herculean effort, he does as she says, staggering to his feet, as she drapes his arm over her shoulders and does her best to bear his weight. They start slowly out of the alley, limping and lurching, sitting ducks if any more Rittengoons come sprinting this way to help Emma out. Gouts of blood stain Lucy’s dress, so that she’s not even sure whose it is. Flynn can’t make it very far. Her mind is a blank wall of blind panic and she has to struggle not to black out. They need to get home, they need to get home, they need to get home, they need – she needs –

We need you more, she told him, back in that prison infirmary. Already then, it wasn’t entirely what it sounded. And at this, beyond any doubt, she knows what it is instead.

I need you.

I need you.

I need you.

Please.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #wwwelp #proflucypreston #ask

[sassysatsuma]

Marked for Death - John Seed/Female Deputy

Rating: M (for sexytimes references)

Summary: 'She is temptation, sin incarnate. An addiction which makes him weak. But he loves her and somehow that is enough to cloud his judgement almost entirely.'

John Seed and the Deputy making out on some kind of fur skin rug in a world where they have most definitely ended up catching feelings for each other. Angsty/sexy fluff?

Author’s Note: For @smashinterrupted

I was trying out a different style here, but basically I listened to the song a whole lot and wanted to write these two making out to it in a drabble. Here we are, I hope you enjoy! Any and all likes and reblogs are completely and utterly treasured by me, so please don’t be shy! :-) Also big thanks to @sakom75, for being an unwitting inspiration for this piece as she's currently working on a badass commission for my Deputy and John Seed. Check her out, she's awesome <3

Cross posted to my accounts on AO3 and ff.net.

“It was right that we did meet each other in each other’s eyes It was right that we did see each other in our shadow sides It was wrong then too that crazy love, loves crazy as it does And each of us and both of us so crazy, as it was Who else is going to love someone like you that’s marked for death? Who else is going to be with you when you breathe your last? Who else is going to take my place and hold and keep you safe?”

Marked for Death – Emma Ruth Rundle

 Outside the air is cooling fast, a cloudless sky that doesn't hold back the heat of the day's sun. The light is fading, a soft blue light shrouding the world beneath a darkening cobalt sky. A breeze shakes through tall conifer trees, evergreen branches rustling as the shriek of a nearby owl punctuates the air.

The ranch is lit by firelight and flooded with warmth, an orange glow that casts flickering shadows against the far wall. There's no one but them sheltered within the its walls, the privileged few Chosen bodyguards that John trusts posted outside, watching the perimeter, their backs turn to the blatant sin of their herald. It's been a long time since he cared what the babysitters Joseph insists he keeps think of him.

It's so much easier not to fear sin when she is close.

She isn’t the Deputy when she's pressed beneath him, caught between the fur rug that lies before the open fireplace and his bare chest, marked flesh moving against his with the hunger of a woman who fears that this might be her last chance. Her kisses are feverish, impatient as she nips at anywhere she can reach, lips tugging at the skin of his neck and collarbones as if all there is is the desire to taste him.

She's shaded in firelight, grey shapes dancing across her bared skin. There isn't an inch of her that isn't covered with some kind of mark or tattoos, black ink spiralling in convoluted twists and turns up the sleeve on her right arm whilst a dark, intricate rose blooms at her hip. In amongst the tattoos are a litter of scars, pale, raised up edges that mottle her skin. Some, she had before, others he gave to her.

He kisses each in turn.

They wear their love on their bodies freely now, their sin carved into their skin in a way that makes it feel more like a badge of honour than something that deserves shame and scorn. Everything he believes tells him that the words she's cut into his body should burn like the fires that will swallow him, his brother's counsel ever present in his ear when he's lying alone, bereft and lost. But the fires of Hell feel like nothing in comparison to ache of not having her whenever she is near, the Garden of Eden a pale imitation of the feeling of her lips against his. He knows in his heart that it's in the devil's interest for sin to feel good, that more often than not the pious road is the hardest to walk. But with her he is so completely cut adrift, intoxicated by the acceptance he finds in the arms of a person who asks for nothing from him.

She is temptation, sin incarnate. An addiction which makes him weak. But he loves her and somehow that is enough to cloud his judgement almost entirely.

Nails dig against his back, drawing long, oversensitive lines that burn in all the best ways. Even with the heat from the fire, his skin rises into gooseflesh. John retaliates in kind, sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth, applying just enough pressure to bruise. Beneath him, Kate moans, strong arms pulling him closer as her body grinds against his, eager and impatient.

There's no sweeter torture.

She'll be gone by the morning, slinking straight back into the pretence that they are nothing but enemies, unrelenting forces fighting for polar opposites. She'll continue to burn and tear at his brother's legacy, to rip at the very core of Eden's Gate. She'll taunt him, tease him, spur him into action with such conviction that at times he will actually imagine killing her, about cracking open her rib cage and cutting free her sinful heart. Sometimes he aches to see it beat in his hand, to watch as the woman who brings out the worst in him fade before his very eyes. He's made so many false promises to himself by this point, empty words that speak of a deed that deep down he knows he is incapable of.

All thoughts of murder disappear the moment she returns to his ranch, bathed in moonlight with those smug eyes that are his undoing.

Their love is a drug that promises to end them both, a hedonistic chase that was cursed before it ever really began. Kate is as helpless as him, addicted to the violence, lust and pride that crackles like fire between them. For every time he's held a knife to her heart she's held a gun to his head, for every scar he has inflicted on her she has paid him back in kind. Beneath all their ideals and virtues, locked underneath a facade of twisted morality; they're both the same kind of monster. Like two sides of the same coin, they are mirror images driven by the same core, the same creature who revels in pain and is made all the stronger by it. They both get the same thrill from inflicting it on others, from realising how it can change a person and from having the opportunity to watch that metamorphosis happen before their very eyes. Deep down, their hearts beat for the same purpose.

At night, when they fall back into being lovers, it's an unspoken truth hanging between them, a reality far stronger than the ideals and morality that either of them are fighting for.

John should feel guilty, but he doesn't.

Instead, his fingers curl around her neck, feeling the corded muscle tighten beneath his grasp. She can breathe just enough, but the action is entirely under his control, the very air filling her lungs his gift to her. Another moan, hoarse and soft thanks to the hold he has on her and Kate is looking up at him with a fire that pushes a self-satisfied smirk across his face. With a free hand, he traces her torso, eyes locked on hers as his fingertips rub across the lust carved into her hip, her eyes watching him in quiet anticipation. Almost unbearably slowly, his fingers sink lower and slip beneath the elastic of her underwear. Kate bucks her hips against his hand, unwilling to surrender full control and in reply he laughs, silencing her with a bruising kiss.

He knows that she'll pay him back for this and have him begging her like a wanton sinner before the dawn comes. In a world that has him questioning so much, she is the only real certainty, unshakeable in her wants and desires. He doesn't question whether or not she will return to him, nor does he question the fact that they will both keep on fighting, doggedly refusing to back down to the other. They're two deer, locked in a battle for dominance, butting antlers until one of them finally slips and ends the other.

He doesn't know who will slip and fall in the end. Doesn't want to know the end of the story before it falls into place before his eyes. Instead it's enough to know that one of them is marked for death and that everything that comes before is simply foreplay to a much greater end.

They're cursed. But at least for the moment they are cursed together.  

#far cry 5 #far cry fanfiction #john seed #john seed/deputy #john seed/female deputy #john seedxdeputy #fanfiction #my writing #sass pretends to be a writer

[imaginedilestrade]

Coordinated.

A/N: A request for the lovely @girl-next-door-writes who sent me a photo of Greg in TSoT in THAT BLUE SUIT 😵 I hope you like it! (And I hope it satisfies your love for Lestrade, Emma 😉)

Uhhhhh this is also a tad long 😳sorry! 😅

———————–

You stood in the middle of the reception hall glancing about at mostly unknown faces. You recognised a few; Sherlock, Mrs Hudson and of course your cousin John and his new wife Mary. You also spotted a few aunts and uncles that you had barely spoke to in years.

You brought your wine glass to your lips and after gulping down a mouthful, let out a long sigh. “Weddings are boring aren’t they?” A voice from behind you made you jump slightly and you turned on the spot. You sent the lithe man in front of you a small smile.

“You find everything boring, Sherlock,” you let out a snort of laughter “I’ll never forget the time I spent those two days with you and John. I don’t think I’ve heard the word ‘bored’ uttered so many times in my life.”

Sherlock smirked and scanned his eyes over the room “Looking for something in particular?” You asked and tried to follow his gaze.

“Perhaps…” he mused.

That vague answer made you raise a brow while your eyes darted back and forth from wall to wall “You’re a very strange-” your voice hitched when you laid your eyes on a silver haired man in a blue suit that only complemented that beautiful hair more. “-man…” you finally managed to finish your sentence while your eyes remained fixated on the man a few yards in front on you.

You were so transfixed that you didn’t even notice Sherlock disappearing. You were brought back into reality again from a sudden tap on your shoulder. “Y/N!” John caught you off guard.

“John! Mary!” You gave them both a hug “Congratulations! I’m so happy for the both of you. I’m also sorry that mum and dad couldn’t make it, they were devastated, but I don’t think you would have wanted two people with food poisoning at your wedding!” You giggled.

“That’s alright, the most important thing is that they focus on getting better.” John reassured you with a smile “You’ll be glad to know that you aren’t sitting next to aunt Petunia and uncle Fred.”

“Oh thank god!” You pressed your hand to your chest and let out a thankful sigh of relief. “Where am I sitting?”

“Table two, Mrs Hudson is at that table along with Molly and her boyfriend, Tom. I don’t think you’ve met Molly have you?” Mary asked and you shook your head with a negative response. “There she is…Molly!” Mary ushered her over and you instantly took a liking to the petite woman in a bright yellow dress. “Molly, this is John’s cousin, Y/N.” Mary introduced the both of you.

“Lovely to meet you,” you smiled.

“You too, your dress is gorgeous!” She admired and you glanced down at your blue dress with silver sash around your waist that tied into a bow at the back.

You thanked her with a bashful smile before someone crashed into you, effectively hugging your legs. You looked down and found Archie there and let out a laugh “Can I help you?” You asked quirking an amused brow.

“I want to dance with you!” He almost burst with excitement.

You, Molly, John and Mary shared a laugh “Well,” you began and crouched down to his level “The dancing generally happens after the meal, but you can dance with me then. I promise.” He ran off with a gleeful smile and you stood back up. John and Molly excused themselves and you were left with Mary.

“I’m assuming you didn’t come with anyone…” you trailed off with a knowing smirk.

“You already know the answer to that,” you looked at her with pursed lips.

Mary shrugged with a grin “Yeah, I do…while we are on the subject, has anyone caught your eye?”

'Yes’ “No.”

Mary narrowed her eyes at you, unconvinced “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” You quickly defended yourself but Mary’s persistent glaring made you crack “Fine! Okay!” You rolled your eyes and looked over to the man you had saw earlier and admired him from afar “The silver haired man in the blue suit…” you mumbled discreetly.

Mary squinted her eyes slightly and left out a small gasp of delight and surprise “Greg?!”

“I don’t know his name!” You tried to shush her in attempts to avoid any unwanted attention to the both of you.

Mary bit down on her lip to stop herself from smiling too much, but by this point she could have easily been mistaken for the Cheshire Cat. “He’s sitting at your table…” your eyes shot open and your almost dropped your wine glass “You should get to know him, he’s really lovely. Greg’s a detective inspector, Sherlock and John are usually always on one of his cases.”

Your lips twitched in thought and you were soon asked to sit down for the meal. Mary gave you a hug of reassurance before you made your way to the table. Your legs managed to reach the seat before giving way with nerves. “Hello dear!” Mrs Hudson cooed and sent you a small wave from across the table.

“Hello Mrs Hudson! You look absolutely lovely!” You smiled and others began to sit down at the table. You could feel your heartbeat speed up with each step Greg was making towards his seat, you were convinced Tom and Molly- who were sitting beside you- could hear it thumbing against your ribcage.

Mrs Hudson bashfully waved away your comment “Oh please, you’re almost showing up Mary in that dress! You’re beautiful!” She giggled. The vacant seat next to Mrs Hudson was filled by Greg and your eyes fell to the pristinely folded napkin in front of you. “Aren’t I right, Greg?” The woman nudged the DI and he raised a confused brow.

“Sorry? Right about what?” He questioned, smiling at her as he asked while you slowly started to sink down in your seat.

Mrs Hudson chuckled “About Y/N! Doesn’t she look beautiful?” She motioned over to you and you looked up, perfectly timing the moment to catch Greg looking at you.

His smile faltered for a millisecond before an even bigger smile graced his face. “Yeah,” he agreed “She does.” He reached across the table slightly and stuck out his hand “Greg Lestrade.”

You sat back up in your seat properly and shook his hand “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Molly let out a small amused snort “You two are perfectly matching! Very coordinated.” After Molly’s remark you both let go of each other’s hand and looked down at your outfits and them back to one another, sharing a brief nervous laugh when you realised she was right.

His suit matched your dress and your silver sash matched his hair.

Dinner was served and you kept catching Greg whilst you ate, you couldn’t help but smile. Each time you did, Greg felt his heart flutter. “Did you come alone, dear?” Mrs Hudson asked.

“Yes,” you and Greg both answered at the same time and you looked at each other in surprise that the other answered. To be fair, Mrs Hudson didn’t exactly specify who the question was for.

Mrs Hudson let out a loud laugh and clapped her hands together “Sorry Greg, I was talking to Y/N!” He held up his hands and awkwardly laughed, Mrs Hudson gently tapped his arm with a smile. “So Y/N,” she began and you took a sip of your drink “I’m assuming you’re 'single and ready to mingle’.”

You choked on your wine and tried not to violently cough up half a lung “Uh yeah…” you coughed out “I guess you could say that.”

You didn’t notice Greg’s face brighten up upon hearing that. He was about to say something but a clinking glass captured everyone’s attention. Sherlock stood and began making his speech, you missed most of it as you were too busy being distracted by Greg. He was mesmerising.

He turned his head slightly and smiled at you 'Hi’ he mouthed with a small smile.

You bashfully looked away for a brief moment before mouthing a 'Hi’ back.

“Scotland Yard. Have you got a theory?” Sherlock asked and Greg jumped out of his trance. Greg looked up to him in surprise and Sherlock rolled his eyes “Yeah, you. You’re a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?” He questioned and Greg casted his mind back to what Sherlock was referring to, the stabbed soldier.

“Er, um…” Greg began, his gaze darting back and forth from you to Sherlock. “If the, uh, if the if the blade was propelled through the, um… grating in the air vent…” he continued and your brows started to raise in anticipation “Maybe a ballista or a catapult. Em, somebody tiny could crawl in there.” He shrugged slightly “So yeah, we’re looking for a dwarf.”

Sherlock stared at him blankly. “Brilliant.” He uttered out.

Both of Greg’s brows raised and he began to blink away the shock “Really?”

“No.” Sherlock flatly replied and you let out a loud snort of laughter. The noise was so loud that everyone looked at you in surprise. You had to cover your mouth as you continued to hysterically giggle, Greg was in awe with your laugh.

Sherlock continued asking until he moved onto his and Johns antics during their stag night. You turned back to Greg again 'Good answer’ you mouthed and stuck your thumbs up. Greg sent you a smirk and a wink, if you weren’t sitting, you would have melted to the floor.

Your moment with Greg stopped when you heard a champagne flute hit the floor. You turned and noticed Sherlock standing, motionless. A server handed him another glass and for a second Sherlock remembered where he was.

'Somethings wrong…’ you thought to yourself and felt your stomach sink with dread. You looked at John, who looked baffled at what was happening. He noticed you looking at him with an uneasy stare as you lightly shook your head, something was off. John stiffened slightly and you returned your attention back to Sherlock who was rambling on.

“Geoff, the gents.” Sherlock glared at Greg who’s face was riddled with confusion “The loos, now, please.” Sherlock practically demanded when Greg didn’t move.

“It’s Greg.” The DI snappishly added.

Sherlock gritted his teeth “The loos, please.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s your turn!” Sherlock snapped and Greg looked down to his beeping phone.

'Lock this place down.’ It said and Greg’s face paled. “Yeah, actually, now you mention it…” Greg fumbled to his feet and looked back at you before rushing out the room.

“Sherlock, any chance of an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake.” John impatiently laughed.

Sherlock sent John a fake smile “Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos!” His eyes widened and John froze. It took you a moment to register those words but when you knew exactly what they meant you audibly gasped and gripped onto the fabric of your dress.

“What did he say? What’s that mean?” Mary asked John.

“Battle stations. Someone’s gonna die.” He stiffly replied.

Sherlock continued speaking while your eyes darted back and fourth from one side of the room to the other. You could feel the tension building while everyone, aside from John, Mary and Sherlock, was completely oblivious to it.

Archie suddenly stood up and was almost bursting with excitement “Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!”

“Oh, hello again, Archie.” He turned to the boy with a cheery grin “What’s your theory? Get this right and there’s a headless nun in it for you.”

“The invisible man could do it!”

“The who? The what? The why? The when? The where?”

“The invisible man with the invisible knife.” Archie explained “The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.” You, Sherlock and John gasped, realizing he was right.

Sholto stood and walked out of the room, calm and composed. Sherlock, John, Mary and yourself rushed out of the reception hall. “Y/N, call an ambulance!” John told you and you called them as they tended to Sholto.

Just as you hung up the phone Greg came darting through “What’s happening?” He asked.

“I don’t know exactly but I think Sherlock’s halfway through solving a mur-” you cut yourself off and looked off into the distance. “Invisible…” you quietly spoke to yourself.

“What?” Greg raised a brow.

You looked up to him “Do you have a car?”

—

“Well done,” Sherlock patted you on the back as Greg dragged the photographer back in.

You looked up to him with a grin “I’ve learned from the best,” you lightly teased “Now do your thing, Mr Holmes.”

Sherlock tore through the photographer like he was a piece of paper, deducing that he was the murderer. You stood back and watched with crossed arms as he did, eventually the man was taken away by two police officers.

Mary and John called you all through to watch their first dance and you began to walk into the hall when a hand on your wrist held you back “How did you know?” Greg asked in the softest of voices.

You shrugged a shoulder “Lucky guess. How awkward would it have been if I was wrong?” You laughed.

Greg stifled his laughter, yours died down in your throat and it went quiet. “Would you like to-”

“-Yes!” You cut Greg off a little too eagerly and it make him chuckle.

He held out his hand and you took it in your own. He lead you through to he dance floor and swayed you along with the tempo of the tune. “Nice suit…”

“Nice dress…” he brushed his fingertips over the fabric that perfectly colour coordinated with his own outfit. “So your John’s cousin?”

“Yup,” you replied before he spun you “And the story of the stag night doesn’t even come close to some of the stories I have about him.”

“Oh really?” Greg asked quirking a brow “You’ll have to tell me…maybe over dinner?”

You looked up at him through your lashes “I’d like that.”

Greg stopped moving you when he felt a tug on his suit jacket, he turned and found Archie standing behind him with crossed arms “Excuse me, but I believe the lady promised me a dance.”

Greg turned back to you and you sent the DI a toothy grin “That is correct…” you both turned and looked down at Archie “A promise is a promise.”

Greg held his hands up with a giggle “Alright, I can’t compete with a promise!”

“Don’t worry I’ll give you her back!” Archie dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.

Greg watched you with a smile on his face the entire time, you were so unbelievably beautiful, kind and smart. He couldn’t believe his luck. After finishing your dance with Archie, he gave you back to Greg “Take care of her now!” The brown haired boy warned with a pointed finger.

“I will!” Greg chuckled. He then lead you back out onto the dance floor.

“Sorry about that,” you nervously smiled and shared another dance with Greg.

“Don’t be,” the music slowed and Greg brought you closer to him, placing his hand on the small of your back and the other rested on top of yours which was pressed to the space between his chest and shoulder.

The moment was well and truly ruined when a bouquet of flowers landed in between both of you. The two of you looked up to a coyly smiling Mary who was up on the stage, delightfully clapping her hands. Greg removed his hand from you and took a flower from the bouquet. He gently placed it between your ear.

The ends of your mouth twitched upwards as you also removed a flower and did the exact same to him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and let your lips linger for a moment before pulling away “Now we are perfectly coordinated.”

#imaginedilestrade #request #greg lestrade #lestrade #oh how i love that suit #greg lestrade x reader #lestrade x reader #lestrade imagine #greg lestrade imagine #di lestrade #detective inspector lestrade #inspector lestrade #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #mary watson #molly hooper #mrs hudson #tsot

[queenieschronicles]

Vide Cor Meum

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: What would a man do to protect his family, wealth, and business? Marry his daughter off to Birmingham’s most ambitious: Thomas Shelby.

Word Count: 2760

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV

You threw a smile over your shoulder as the two Carrol brothers said their goodbyes and promised to be back tomorrow. You waved and closed the door behind you. Before turning to face your father, you adjusted your dress and put on a straight face.

You took a seat across from him. You pressed the warm cup of tea to your lips. Your father gave you a peculiar look; you smiled at him with your eyes. He folded his newspaper and set it on a silver tray standing by.

“Have fun in the gardens?” He inquired.

You nodded, playing with the hem of the white tablecloth. You were always entertaining neighbors. Where young, single girls lounged about, young, single boys came to seek fun.

“Emma and Jane truly are wonderful company.” You took a bite of a biscuit.

He sat back in his chair,” Yes. Well, we have business to discuss.”

Your brows furrowed. Business was usually left up to him and his board. You couldn’t even pretend to know what this was about.

You remained quiet and let him collect himself. You wondered if someone had died or maybe one of your sisters had had another child you were to be the godmother to.

“You’re going to marry Thomas Shelby.” He stated firmly.

Your head tilted forward. You gave your father a look of disbelief. You expected him to start laughing and reveal his big joke. Instead, he held his good posture and the look of solemnity.

“The hell I am!” You protested.

“You are of age, (Y/N). I’m not waiting for either of the Carrol boys to ask for your hand. Besides, you have a duty to this family.” He took a drink of his tea.

“Is that what you told Cornelia and Victoria when they were getting married?” You glowered.

The dynamic between you changed. It was no longer diplomatic. You watched as your father set the cup down and shift to face you straight on. You knew what was coming next. He wasn’t going to ask you nicely. He wasn’t giving you an option.

Anyway, no one defied Thomas Shelby and lived. Your father wouldn’t be the first.

“Your sisters married in a timely fashion. You’re taking your time. Well, the clock is ticking and it has finally chimed. Thomas will be coming for the party tonight. In fact, it’s been set up as your engagement party. You’ll be married tomorrow.”

You gave an obedient nod in reply. Removing yourself from the table, you exited into the hall. You climbed the stairs feeling as if you were weighted down by lead. You entered your bedroom and sank against the door when it shut.

You always imagined growing old in this house. You never had plans to marry. You would always have companions. There was no need for a husband. The quiet country life of Highbury was all you needed.

Then Thomas Shelby happened. You hadn’t even remembered the last time you’d seen him. Perhaps it was London or it was Cheltenham races. You hadn’t a clue. You only knew that your father and Thomas Shelby had gotten along infamously. You had danced with him. You had been hit on by his brother John and complimented graciously by Arthur. You remembered his stoic, stern features and his ability to hide what he felt. You remembered your sisters being head over heels. He was also the only man who had ever made you feel like you didn’t hold all the cards.

You stripped yourself on your way to the bed and sprawled out. You thought yourself into a deep sleep to which you wouldn’t wake until the maid came to fetch you for dinner. You promised to be down shortly.

You slipped out onto your balcony in your robe to check the weather for the evening. You slid your hands along the smooth stone until you were flattened against it. You smiled as the fresh air filled your lungs.  Nothing could compare to this bliss.

“You’re going to catch a cold wearing that.” His voice was smooth and smoky.

Your heart leapt wildly. Your eyes widened. You caught him looking over from the balcony over. He had one hand in his pinstripe pants and the other held a cigarette firmly. You hadn’t expected him to be here already.

You pulled your robes tighter around you feeling terribly naked.

His striking blue eyes took in your bare legs and followed the curves of your body to your face. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

You hadn’t remembered him looking so handsome.

“You see, the cold already took your voice.”

You scowled. “I can speak just fine thank you.”

A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. He drew a short inhale of his cigarette before ashing it over the side of the balcony.

“As for your concern of my health, I’ll be just fine. I’ve been out here in far less and survived. And if it’s the exposure you’re worried about, you’ll see far more of me when we’re married.” You retorted.

A self-satisfied smirk highlighted his strong cheekbones. “I’m looking forward to it.”

A knock on your door caused you to jump. You closed the balcony doors behind you as you went to answer. It was your mother to fetch you for dinner. She brought you a pale pink dress for dinner and the party. It had an overlay of lace and fringed at the bottom.

She left you to get ready. You freshened up and applied lipstick to your lips. You approved of the reflection in the mirror and left for dinner. All the eyes on you made you a tad uncomfortable, but you held your head high and strode to the empty chair next to your sister.

Thomas regaled a triumph in France and a time before the war. You listened vexed as your sister praised him for his courage. You busied yourself with your food.

“How do you like your room, Thomas?” Your father asked taking a drink of his scotch.

“It’s charming. It has a stunning view.” Thomas watched you over the brim of his glass.

You choked, your spoon clanking against the bowl. Everyone’s eyes were on you. You gave an apologetic smile and took a drink of water.

You stared at him. He smiled back at you. Your family carried on talking about the marriage and the plans for the wedding. You and Thomas drowned them out. A silent conversation ensuing between you. He was so sure of himself. You were no threat and that bothered you. You promised to be a challenge. He wasn’t so easily deterred.

“Where are you thinking of holding the wedding?” Your mother cut in.

“There is a church near the house I bought us that I thought might be nice. I was going to wait to share the news, but I was hoping we could have the reception at the house after the ceremony.” Thomas smiled pleasantly.

You watched him with scrutiny. He was self-assured and charming. You could see why people were entranced. He had sharp cheekbones and striking eyes that stood out from his dark tresses. He was polished and mannered. He didn’t look like a boy from the ash and soot streets of Birmingham.

You slid into self-preservation as the wedding conversation continued. You wanted nothing to do with it. You were relieved when Weston came in to announce the guests were arriving. Your family began to stir from their seats. You were at the door when your father stopped you.

“(Y/N), Thomas will escort you.” He reprimanded subtly.

You waited until Thomas offered you his arm. You took it, gently letting your fingers curl around his arm. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear,” You look beautiful tonight.”

“I didn’t earlier?” You pressed.

An urbane chuckle sounded from him. You glanced at him catching the beautiful smile he wore. You refused to warm up to him. It wasn’t going to happen. You would allow yourself to think he was handsome.

“Beautiful is only one way to describe how you looked earlier. Other words come to mind though: seductive, wicked, appetizing…” He whispered.

Your lips upturned deviously.

You took your time introducing Thomas. People were surprised and congratulatory. Many wasted no time in expressing their shock that Miss (Y/L/N), would ever get married.

“You’re behaving better than I expected.” He handed you a glass of champagne.

“I was told to move to Hollywood. They said I’d make a brilliant actress.” You took a sip.

A minor twitch in his jaw betrayed the amusement he felt. That and his expressive eyes which were softer than you were used to. He knew he would have his hands full with you. This marriage wasn’t going to be what he expected.

Thomas noticed someone approached from the corner of his eye. It was a burly man with blond hair. He had broad shoulders and soft brown eyes. Thomas noticed your smile become soft and wide. He narrowed his eyes on the stranger.

“Elliot Carrol, I didn’t think you were going to be here tonight.” You took the hand he offered you.

Elliot pressed a kiss to the back.” Miss a (Y/L/N) party? Leland and I could never do that. Besides, we heard the news.” His brow quirked in curiosity.

Thomas pressed a hand to the palm of your back. You released Elliot’s hand and pressed yours to Thomas’s chest.

“This is Thomas Shelby, my fiance.” You swallowed the word. “Tommy,” you crooned,” this is Elliot Carrol.”

Thomas looked down at you and then to Elliot. He shook his hand,” It’s a pleasure, Elliot.”

Elliot nodded,” It truly is. How long have you known our (Y/N/N)?”

Thomas smiled, his hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you into him. “I’ve known her for years. I met my (Y/N/N) when we were teenagers, then again in our twenties, and most recently in London. We’ve a long history. I’ve always known she was going to be mine.”

Elliot’s fists tightened. The two men sized each other up. The tension rose instantly. This wouldn’t be your mess if you weren’t the one getting married.

You laughed to diffuse tension,” Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. I’ve always been such a handful.” You leaned into Thomas and squeezed his shoulder. His hand tightened around your waist possessively.

Elliot smiled at you. You watched him with tender fondness.

“You are a delight, (Y/N).” He watched the band start up over his shoulder. He offered his hand again,” As old friends, may I have this dance?”

You felt Thomas tense beside you. You watched Elliot feeling those old feelings you always had. The Carrol brothers had been your neighbors since you were roughly seventeen. They had been nothing but kind and fun. You spent many days here and there listening to them tell tales and talk of life.

Momentarily, you forgot you were to be married tomorrow.

You took his hand and he whisked you right out of Tommy’s grip. His hands replaced Tommy’s, but they were familiar and warm.

“Just one dance.” You decided mostly for yourself.

Thomas’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowing on the bumbling oaf and you –his fiancée – dancing with said oaf at your engagement party. Thomas didn’t share. He wasn’t going to share you with any man. He downed the rest of his champagne and watched you carefully.

You laughed, leaning closer to Elliot. He made it easy to be comfortable. He made it easy to have fun. You smiled over his shoulder until you saw Thomas. Everything blurred except for him. He stood crystal clear in a three-piece looking like the grim reaper.

You were inexplicably drawn back to him. Your grip on Elliot’s shoulders weakened. You tried to offer Thomas a smile, but he just watched you. You rested your head on Elliot’s shoulder to hide from him.

The music slowed. You pulled yourself back from Elliot. You felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Tommy might have been partially right about your history. You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying him. Or maybe you couldn’t stand the thought of marrying your equal. Elliot went to grab your hand again when Thomas reclaimed it.

“Excuse me, Elliot. I’m going to steal my girl for a dance.” He pulled you into him.

You went willingly. Your arms automatically reaching his shoulders. You stepped into him with ease. His hand flexed possessively on your waist. You leaned your head on his shoulder and focused your eyes on his white dress shirt.

“What is Elliot to you?” He studied the crown moldings of the room and the baroque wallpaper.

Your grip on his hand weakened. He tightened his, reminding you not to let go.

“He’s a neighbor.” You answered softly.

“Is that all?” He pushed.

“That’s all.”

His hand hooked around your waist, his finger splaying. You closed a nonexistent space between the two of you. Your hand moved farther up toward his neck.

“I won’t share you.” He didn’t skip a beat.

“You won’t have to.” You murmured quietly.

The two of you danced in a tranquil silence. You pondered why you disliked Thomas so badly. He killed people. He was a criminal. One of the first times you met him he had dirt on his nose. You tried so hard to remember why you didn’t want anything to do with him.

“You can’t see Elliot anymore. Or any other man pining after you.” The music died.

You stepped back to look up at him. His eyes were dark. There wasn’t a hint of amusement on his face or a glitter of admiration. His jaw was taught. His lips were pursed. His blue eyes were calculating.

As if dancing could make you forget who you were, you narrowed your eyes.” I’m not just business Thomas. I’m a person. You’re not going to tell me what to do and who I can and can’t see.”

For show, you entertained the room with a curtsy and you walked away. You wanted no part in this. You had been perfectly fine being an old spinster. You were happy to marry off all your nieces and nephews. You weren’t going to have a man tell you what to do.

Thomas caught your arm in the vacant hall. The force jerked you around until you were looking at him.

“You don’t get to walk away from this.”

You tore your arm away,” Watch me.” You turned and marched up the stairs.

He was hot on your heels.

“You’ve been given to me.” His tone hushed.

“I’m a fucking human, Thomas, not a damn mantel piece.” You shot back.

“Would you fucking listen? This marriage wasn’t won in a poker game.”

“Oh no? Was it forged under some blackmail? Maybe some laundering or threats.”

You turned a hard right when you reached the top. You could feel him closing in. He grabbed your hand this time and yanked you to the side. Your back hit the wall. A dull pain reached into your shoulders.

Thomas pressed your waist back and supported himself with one hand on the wall. “You think I would do that?”

“What else then if not?”

“I’m making a good business. I may not have the cleanest hands, (Y/N), but I didn’t force your father’s hands. I didn’t threaten him.”

You held his gaze waiting for some crack in his lies. All you saw was a solemn honesty.

“We’re getting married tomorrow whether you like it or not.” He stepped away from you.

“This is business, Thomas. Just like John and Esme. So, why? Why marry me?”

Thomas looked at you,” Some questions are better left unanswered.”

He began to walk away. You stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

“Don’t you walk away from me! Tell me!”

He lifted your hand,” Go to bed, (Y/N). It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

You sank back, retracting your hand. You glared at him and stomped to your bedroom. You immediately felt like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so composed and put together. You burned with embarrassment.

You stripped down and put your pajamas on. You sat at your vanity and stared at yourself. It finally hit you that you were going to leave all of this. Tomorrow you would be in a new house with no one but your husband. That, in itself, was the strangest idea.

You brushed through your hair and crawled into bed. You squeezed your eyes shut hoping tomorrow wouldn’t come.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #queeniewrites

[calendarofanxiety]

November 9, 1888 KELLY Mary Jane Kelly also known as Marie Jeanette Kelly, Fair Emma, Ginger and Black Mary is widely believed to be the final victim of the notorious unidentified serial killer Jack the Ripper who killed and mutilated several women in the Whitechapel area of London from late August to early November 1888. She was about 25 years old and living in poverty at the time of her death. Barnett (the man she had most recently lived with prior to her murder) visited Kelly for the last time between 7:00 and 8:00 PM on 8 November. He found her in the company of Maria Harvey (a friend of hers). Harvey and Barnett left at about the same time. Barnett returned to his lodging house where he played cards with other residents until falling asleep. Fellow Miller's Court resident and prostitute Mary Ann Cox who described herself as "a widow and unfortunate" reported seeing Kelly returning home drunk in the company of a stout ginger-haired man wearing a bowler hat and carrying a can of beer at about 11:45 PM. Cox and Kelly wished each other goodnight. Kelly went into her room with the man and then started singing the song "A Violet I Plucked from Mother's Grave When a Boy." She was still singing when Cox went out at midnight and when she returned an hour later at 1:00. Elizabeth Prater had the room above Kelly's and when she went to bed at 1:30 the singing had stopped. Labourer George Hutchinson who knew Kelly reported that she met him at about 2:00 AM and asked him for a loan of sixpence. He claimed that as Kelly went on her way she was approached by a man of "Jewish appearance". Hutchinson later gave the police an extremely detailed description of the man right down to the colour of his eyelashes despite it being the middle of a dark winter night. He reported that he overheard them talking in the street opposite the court where Kelly was living. Kelly complained of losing her handkerchief and the man gave her a red one of his own. Hutchinson claimed that Kelly and the man headed for her room that he followed them and that he saw neither one of them again laying off his watch at about 2:45. Hutchinson's statement appears to be partly corroborated by laundress Sarah Lewis who reported seeing a man watching the entrance to Miller's Court as she passed into it at about 2:30 to spend the night with some friends. Hutchinson claimed that he was suspicious of the man because although Kelly seemed to know him his opulent appearance made him seem very unusual in that neighbourhood but only reported this to the police after the inquest on Kelly had been hastily concluded. Abberline (the detective in charge of the investigation) thought Hutchinson's information was important and sent him out with officers to see if he could see the man again. Hutchinson's name doesn't appear again in the existing police records and so it's not possible to say with certainty whether his evidence was ultimately dismissed, disproven or corroborated. Some modern scholars have suggested that Hutchinson was the Ripper himself trying to confuse the police with a false description but others suggest he may have just been an attention seeker who made up a story he hoped to sell to the press. Cox returned home again at about 3:00. She reported hearing no sound and seeing no light from Kelly's room. Elizabeth Prater who was woken by a kitten and Sarah Lewis both reported hearing a faint cry of "Murder!" at about 4:00 AM but didn't react because they reported that it was common to hear such cries in the East End. She claimed not to have slept and to have heard people moving in and out of the court throughout the night. She thought she heard someone leaving the residence at about 5:45 AM. Prater did leave at 5:30 AM to go to The Ten Bells public house for a drink of rum and saw nothing suspicious. On the morning of 9 November 1888 (the day of the annual Lord Mayor's Day celebrations) Kelly's landlord John McCarthy sent his assistant ex-soldier Thomas Bowyer to collect the rent. Kelly was 6 weeks behind on her payment owing 29 shillings. Shortly after 10:45 AM Bowyer knocked on her door but received no response. He reached through the crack in the window pushed aside a coat being used as a curtain and peered inside discovering Kelly's horribly mutilated corpse lying on the bed. The mutilation of Kelly's corpse was by far the most extensive of any of the Whitechapel murders probably because the murderer had more time to commit his atrocities in a private room rather than in the street. Dr Thomas Bond and Dr George Bagster Phillips examined the body. Phillips and Bond timed her death to about 12 hours before the examination. Phillips suggested that the extensive mutilations would have taken 2 hours to perform and Bond noted that rigor mortis set in as they were examining the body indicating that death occurred between 2:00 and 8:00 AM. Bond's notes read "The body was lying naked in the middle of the bed, the shoulders flat but the axis of the body inclined to the left side of the bed. The head was turned on the left cheek. The left arm was close to the body with the forearm flexed at a right angle and lying across the abdomen. The right arm was slightly abducted from the body and rested on the mattress. The elbow was bent, the forearm supine with the fingers clenched. The legs were wide apart, the left thigh at right angles to the trunk and the right forming an obtuse angle with the pubis. The whole of the surface of the abdomen and thighs was removed and the abdominal cavity emptied of its viscera. The breasts were cut off, the arms mutilated by several jagged wounds and the face hacked beyond recognition of the features. The tissues of the neck were severed all round down to the bone. The viscera were found in various parts viz: the uterus and kidneys with one breast under the head, the other breast by the right foot, the liver between the feet, the intestines by the right side and the spleen by the left side of the body. The flaps removed from the abdomen and thighs were on a table. The bed clothing at the right corner was saturated with blood, and on the floor beneath was a pool of blood covering about two feet square. The wall by the right side of the bed and in a line with the neck was marked by blood which had struck it in several places. The face was gashed in all directions, the nose, cheeks, eyebrows, and ears being partly removed. The lips were blanched and cut by several incisions running obliquely down to the chin. There were also numerous cuts extending irregularly across all the features. The neck was cut through the skin and other tissues right down to the vertebrae, the fifth and sixth being deeply notched. The skin cuts in the front of the neck showed distinct ecchymosis. The air passage was cut at the lower part of the larynx through the cricoid cartilage. Both breasts were more or less removed by circular incisions, the muscle down to the ribs being attached to the breasts. The intercostals between the fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs were cut through and the contents of the thorax visible through the openings. The skin and tissues of the abdomen from the costal arch to the pubes were removed in three large flaps. The right thigh was denuded in front to the bone, the flap of skin, including the external organs of generation, and part of the right buttock. The left thigh was stripped of skin fascia, and muscles as far as the knee. The left calf showed a long gash through skin and tissues to the deep muscles and reaching from the knee to five inches above the ankle. Both arms and forearms had extensive jagged wounds. The right thumb showed a small superficial incision about one inch long, with extravasation of blood in the skin, and there were several abrasions on the back of the hand moreover showing the same condition. On opening the thorax it was found that the right lung was minimally adherent by old firm adhesions. The lower part of the lung was broken and torn away. The left lung was intact. It was adherent at the apex and there were a few adhesions over the side. In the substances of the lung there were several nodules of consolidation. The pericardium was open below and the heart absent. In the abdominal cavity there was some partly digested food of fish and potatoes, and similar food was found in the remains of the stomach attached to the intestines". Phillips believed that Kelly was killed by a slash to the throat and the mutilations performed afterwards. Bond stated in a report that the knife used was about 25 mm wide and at least 150 mm long but didn't believe that the murderer had any medical training or knowledge. He wrote "In each case the mutilation was inflicted by a person who had no scientific nor anatomical knowledge. In my opinion he does not even possess the technical knowledge of a butcher or horse slaughterer or a person accustomed to cut up dead animals". Kelly was buried in the Roman Catholic Cemetery at Leytonstone on 19 November 1888. Her obituary ran as follows "The funeral of the murdered woman Kelly has once more been postponed. Deceased was a Catholic, and the man Barnett, with whom she lived, and her landlord, Mr. M. Carthy, desired to see her remains interred with the ritual of her Church. The funeral will, therefore, take place tomorrow [19 Nov] in the Roman Catholic Cemetery at Leytonstone. The hearse will leave the Shoreditch mortuary at half-past twelve. The remains of Mary Janet [sic] Kelly, who was murdered on Nov. 9 in Miller's-court, Dorset-street, Spitalfields, were brought yesterday morning from Shoreditch mortuary to the cemetery at Leytonstone, where they were interred. No family member could be found to attend the funeral".

#mary kelly #whitechapel #london

[outlawqueenbey]

Tethered To You 20

(Thanks to @oqcelebration for the fic rec !! I hope you all like the story)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11637509/1/Tethered-to-You

Chapter 20:

Three Weeks Later

“Hello my beautiful little, Rosie”

“Rose, Robin. We’ve been over this.”

“Don’t listen to your mother, Rosie.”

If he wasn’t so damn adorable holding the tiny purple blanket she’d smack him for not listening to her. But he is so bloody sweet cradling their daughter as he sways gently back and forth, a smile brighter than the sun beaming down at the small pink fingers that wrap around his own. Smitten doesn’t even begin to cover what he is. Down right swooning and a complete sap for the tiny, whiny babbles that escape from the littlest lungs. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of suffocating love he has for his little girl. All dark fuzzy hair, long lashes and bright blue eyes he spends hours on end stroking softly through.

Even the pouting scowl when he has to give her up is preciously cute. It’s a sin to him, not to be holding his daughter. Doesn’t particularly appreciate all the crowding and cooing of others when he has so much affection to bestow on her. Regina adores it. The way he acts when someone damn near has to beg him to hold her for a few moments. It makes her heart go all a flutter with beautiful feelings for him and his dimpled frown.

But it’s lunch time for Rose, and her crinkly brow and small whines of hunger are the only thing that has Robin relinquishing his hold on her as he passes the small purple bundle over to her mother. He is infatuated with breastfeeding. Barely misses a meal simply because he tells her he’s never seen anything so pure before. His eyes going all glassy and fond as Regina adjusts herself so that their daughter may fill her belly with milk. It is a bizarre sensation, or at least it was at first, breastfeeding. Rose had been fidgety in the beginning and Regina’s nerves were all a muck. But practice does in fact make perfect, and it is much easier now. She sighs as Rose latches on, hums happily at the stroking of Robin’s fingers through her hair as he watches from beside her, nuzzling in as close as he possibly can without intruding on Rose’s space.

“I can’t believe she is here sometimes.”

“Neither can I. She’s perfect.” Robin presses a kiss to Regina’s temple whilst he plays with Rose’s tiny foot. “She looks just like you.” He smiles, thumbing teensy toes.

“You think so?”

“Mhmm. She is a complete miniature of you. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Stunning in every way.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Simply speaking the truth, my love.”

Regina smiles, and Robin isn’t the only one to say that she and her daughter resemble each other. Everyone in fact has commented on the likeness, Granny had even gotten a touch weepy the first time meeting Little Lady Locksley. She’d wiped her damp eyes with a handkerchief and a smile as she smoothed over the dark baby curls. “Just like her mother.” That had made Regina’s heart stutter. Granny knew her before the darkness, knew the young girl that had come to a Castle and into a marriage without wanting any of it. She had been Regina’s only friend for many years, watching girl turn into woman, soft sweetness giving away to lonely anger.

“Her eyes are all you though. As are the dimples.”

Robin beams, scooping back the finished feeder from Regina’s breast and cradling her on his shoulder, a palm gently thumping on small ribs as he waits for the sweetest sound of a burp to escape. He lives for any noise Rose makes. Everything to him is a milestone. The first blink of her eyes, first stretch of her chubby limbs, the cries that wake them both up at night are a God send to him. He was made to be a father, that much Regina knows down to her core. He is both unfazed by anything and a complete anxious wreck when something goes not to plan. It’s sweet. The amount of concern he has for their baby girl. It makes Regina feel safe, and love him all that much more for it.

For a blissful three weeks they’ve been able to think about nothing else but their family. Everyone has been gracious in giving space, the talk about going back to Storybrooke a foreign thought now that there are two new babies to be ogled at. Both Rose and Neal want for nothing, never lack in attention, are swaddled in it if anything. But some of the townsfolk are ready to return to their other home, and are becoming anxious at the waiting.

Fortunately for Regina, it appears neither Snow or Charming are quite ready to get back either. It’s simpler being able to keep memories in tact, not needed to figure out how to break a curse and care for an infant at the same time. Snow had been the bigger advocate of the two, still tired from being a new mother and wanting at least a few months before she can handle going back. Regina is grateful for that, as is Robin. Both very unwilling to give each other up, even if the curse could be broken. Being apart isn’t exactly something they want.

Robin had quietly wondered if they couldn’t just stay while everyone else went back. He doesn’t want to be without his family. Would be happy enough to live out their days here in the Enchanted Forest where he feels more comfortable. Being in a new place is unnerving to him, even if Regina has explained until her words run out about Storybrooke. The wonders of plumbing and electricity that don’t require her magic. The many things they can do there as a family. But if they don’t have their memories how is he supposed to navigate his way through this new world without her? It’s daunting. And while he wants to stay and keep them close, Henry is there. Or at least the possibility of Henry coming back to her, and he can’t in his heart keep her from her son. It would be cruel of him.

They have six months. That’s what the council has decided. Six months before they use the bean and go to this other home. With each day that passes, a dark looming cloud creeps into his gut. How long will it take for them to find Emma, convince her that they are real once more, and break this horrid memory curse? Too long in his mind. A day without Regina and Rose is going to be an eternity, even if he doesn’t remember this year they’ve had together. It will all go back to the beginning again.

He will be a single father, filled with loneliness and anger towards the woman he loves so terribly. The memories of apologies, of making amends, finding love within each other, creating their daughter, they will all be gone. It makes his heart clench in his chest as he looks at Regina, who is tying her hair back in a low slung braid, a small smile creeping on her lips as her eyes close and the sun bathes her in a glow. How can he possibly go back to hating her? Somewhere in his gut he hopes that their soulmate bond will keep them together, keep their memories of this year intact. He doesn’t think it will, but he hopes.

The little puffs of air on his neck are soothingly sweet, a beautiful signal that Rose has fallen back into dreamland against his bare chest. Skin on skin contact apparently is quite important in these first few months of her development. He is astounded that she knows who is mommy and who is daddy, simply by the touch of their skin. He relishes in the feeling of small hands fisted against his chest. Adores the way her toes seem to stretch at the top of his ribs, the complete opposite to how she tucks into a ball when laying on Regina, who apparently has also succumbed to sleep.

It’s good though. She needs it. When baby sleeps so should mommy. Quietly as he can without waking either of his girls, he gently tucks Rose into Regina’s chest, smiling as baby nuzzles into her mother, and a delicate hand wraps about her small back. They fit together, Robin decides, like they were always meant to be. For a moment he wonders what it would have been like to see her holding two babies instead of just one. What their son would have look liked all tucked in his mother’s warm grasp. A vision he will never be allowed to see in the flesh. Times that have been stolen from him, from all of them. Now the memories he’d hoped to make with his son will only be dreams and unfulfilled wishes.

Exhaustion waves over him, listening to the sound of Regina’s heavy breathing lulling him to sleep. But the land of unconsciousness needs to wait a few hours longer it appears as a tiny knock at the door echoes through the quiet chambers. Gently as he can, so as not to disturb the peaceful dreams of his girls, he makes his way to the door, smiling as he sees his son holding a tiny bouquet of flowers in his grasp in Little John’s hold.

“Little tyke spent hours finding the right colors for his sister. Apparently there are far too many shades of red that weren’t befitting of a Rose.” John huffs happily, handing Roland over to Robin with a pat to the toddler’s head.

“Can I give Rosie my flowers, Papa?”

“In a little while, my boy, she’s sleeping with Regina.”

The mention of Regina’s name has Roland’s eyes sparkling as his neck cranes around Robin’s shoulders to peer at the pair in bed. “Can we snuggle then?”

“Of course, my boy. Say goodbye to John.”

“Bye!”

“I’ll see you later little guy.”

Together, Robin walks Roland over to the blankets that house their family, pressing a finger to his lips, and Roland nods in understanding that they need to be quiet. He’s been incredible with the newest addition. A doting older brother, curious and soft with the little baby. Something that strokes Robin’s pride, he’s raised a wonderful young boy. Gently, Robin peels back the blanket resting on Regina’s torso, and Roland aptly tucks himself within the cocoon, a gentle hand patting his sister’s back, the other landing on Regina’s forearm. He likes to touch. Always has. Finds comfort in the contact as Robin watching his eyes slowly drift off.

For minutes he doesn’t really notice, he simply watches his family, breathing softly together, all dark brown mops of hair gathered together. Lightly, he lays his own hand over Regina’s, on top of Rosie’s back and over Roland’s shoulders, hugging the things he holds most precious as sleep begins to claim him as well. His last thought simply that he wishes he could hold them forever, but a sinister magic bean has other plans for all of them.

Two Months Later

Robin knew from the first moment he laid eyes on Rosie, that she was going to be spectacular. Case and point, she is thriving at one of his favorite activities, Tummy Time, as he affectionately calls it. The minutes that he spends on his stomach, Rosie much the same, blown away by her ability to lift her head and look at him dead in the eyes. It makes his heart flutter with joy. She’s getting stronger, bigger and chubbier. The rolls on her joints squishy and adorable. He’s not sure he’s seen a more beautiful little girl before.

She babbles, incoherent noises he swears are her calling him daddy, even if it makes Regina laugh as roll her eyes. They are a long way from actual words, but nonsense squeals are good enough for him. She’s going to be brilliant. He knows it.

“Robin, it’s bath time for her.”

He beams, it’s another favorite part of his day. Rosie loves the water. Happily splashes about in the small tub Regina had conjured up. “Are you ready, my little love?” He scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her pink fat cheek and walks to the bathroom behind Regina who is already set up and ready to go. It’s like clockwork. She is meticulous in everything about their daughter, right down to the matching booties that coordinate with her soft cotton onesies. He’s made note that more than once, his girls have come out in the morning dressed almost the same.

Throwing his shirt off as Regina places Rosie in the tub, he sinks down on the floor beside them, Regina’s blouse rolled up already, for they both know bathtime can get a little wet, what with their daughter being able to kick her little legs emphatically about. She squeals when Regina lifts the yellow duck into the sky, chubby hand flailing about as her eyes follow in a sparkling dance at the toy. As predicted, Robin is sloshed with a wave of water as her feet go crazy in the bath, something Regina laughs at as he wipes his face off. A shocked, “Hey!” spiking from her as he flicks her back with a few bubbles that land on her cheek and brow. Rosie shrieks happily up at them. A smile gracing her delicate features, something both Robin and Regina melt over. The little girl’s smile rivals the brightest ray of sun, dimpled, gummy and effervescent.

He’s going to miss this when they lose their memories. Miss them.

“Have you been able to find anything out?” He questions quietly whilst running a soft cloth over the protruding fat belly in the water, though his eyes flicker up to see Regina’s smile falter at her lips as she shakes her head sadly, a soft whispered, “No.” answering him back. His heart sinks. They’d hoped there would be some loophole to be found. Something that would keep their memories intact, something that could keep them together. He tries not to ask too much, doesn’t wish to upset Regina, he already knows she feels like she is failing, and that isn’t what he wants. His only hope is some blonde woman he’s never met before, and that just doesn’t sit well in his gut. There are so many things that could go wrong, so much that he is going to miss out on. Milestones he’ll never get the chance to witness.

“I’m nervous.”

“About what, my love?”

Regina’s hand tickles Rosie’s belly as she sighs, her eyes shining with tears as she confesses only to his ears, “Raising her alone.”

Exhaling heavily, he folds her hand in the water into his own, the joint expanse of them covering their daughters torso. “I have nothing but faith in you, Regina.”

“At least one of us does.”

“You did a mighty fine job with Henry, this will be no different.”

“Except I’ll be waking up with a daughter I didn’t know I had, and will be wondering who her father is.” Her eyes flick up to Robin’s, a lone tear falling from her lashes he is quick to wipe away.

“You know what I think?” She shrugs, leans into his palm and waits with a sad pained look in her eyes. He smiles, or at least tries to, “I think that we are going to find each other.”

“You sound so certain.”

“No matter the time, Regina, I have always wondered where you were. You’ve always been with me, my love. That’s not about to change.”

“You promise?”

This time Robin smiles, for he does know this one thing. That no matter where he goes, she is cemented into his very being. There isn’t a chance he would ever truly forget her. And if they have to start from square one, well then so be it. If this is the outcome, he’ll gladly walk through the fire once more.

“I promise.”

His lips meet hers, coaxing away her anxiety that rumbles just beneath the surface. Beneath them, Rosie has apparently decided that’s enough heavy talk as she babbles and splashes in the basin, squealing for some attention that had been momentarily taken from her.

“Yes, my little Rosie, I know. Time for supper.”

Regina rolls her eyes at the nickname, but he sees her smile as she cups their daughter up in a towel, and cuddles her into her chest. He drains the tub, and pads over to the bed just as Regina settles down, unbuttoning her blouse with a single freehand. It never fails to catch his breath, even if the revealing of a breast is simply for his daughter’s empty tummy, Regina is stunning to him. Perhaps more so like this, all warm and motherly as she adjust Rosie in her arms, and sighs when she latches on.

Childbirth has gotten in the way of their sex life. Not that he really minds, but he is a man, and well, Regina is Regina. There is no chance he stands not being somewhat aroused by her. She seems to sense the fractional change in his breathing as he settles down beside them. Her hand patting his thigh a bit too high for hiding his growing need to feel her again. But he will wait until she is ready, dying in need to have her touch him again all the while. She chuckles as he shifts his hips away from her wandering hand, a blush on his cheeks flushing his skin hot at the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

He understands her fear over them being intimate again. Or perhaps fear isn’t the right word. Reservation over the change in her body is more on point. He sees the way she frowns at the not quite taut skin on her stomach, the lines that paint from hip to breastbone, faint as they may be. To herself she balks at the roundness she still carries, scowls at it even. The scrunch in her nose adorable to Robin when she tucks herself away from his perusing gaze at her naked body. He simply tells her that there is just more to love. Not that it makes her scowl lessen any when she bats his hands away with a huff.

“Maybe tonight, when this little one is asleep, you and I can have some time together.” She hums out, her tongue darting out to swipe along her lower lip, an action that holds Robin’s gaze to the wet trail left behind on the plump pout.

“Just us?” He swallows in reaction, begging his growing arousal to tamp down. It’s an impossible feat though, what with her hand drawing lazy circles on his inner thigh.

She shrugs shyly, “Just a thought,” and glances back up at him beneath thick lashes curiously.

A smile twitches at his lips as he nods, probably to quickly to hide his excitement at the prospect of having her all to himself for a few hours. “I’d love nothing more than to spend time with you.”

“Perhaps we can convince Granny to watch both Roland and Rose for the night.” She bites back down on her lip, leaning a little heavier into him, the swell of her exposed breast pressing into his chest.

Dear God he hopes so.

.

..

…

..

.

Dinner was… quick. Dessert seemed to be more on her appetite. Not that Robin was complaining, couldn’t fathom resisting, what with her hair clouding his vision and her weight in his lap. Three months has been far too long. An eternity it seems now that he has the opportunity to scour her naked back with his hands. His starvation to taste her infinite and overwhelming as he suckles on a nipple, rolling the other in his hands. Pregnancy has made them swell, grow beyond what he can hold, and he loves it. The new weight of them, the sensitivity they’ve appeared to gain, the appreciation she has for his laving tongue over the hardened peaks. She groans, a sinful thing that goes straight to his ever growing erection. When she divested them of their clothes, he can’t quite remember, but is incredibly grateful for it. He gets to feel the wetness between her thighs, hot and slick, grinding across him. Teasing with every roll of her hips he grips with fervour. His other hand ghosts down, sliding till he can tuck it between her eagerly parting thighs, as she moans and rubs against his palm.

She’ll be the death of him. Her and these bloody noises she makes when he slides two fingers inside her and begins to pump at a steady rocking rhythm. It’s snug, not enough space for him to curl his hand into her the way he knows she likes, doesn’t allow the way he truly wants to feel her come apart on his fingers happen. Loathe as he is, he parts from her breast with a pop, nipping the bud teasingly as she squeaks and curls her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her.

Wrapping an arm around her torso, he slides his fingers out of her, much to her annoyed gruff, and flips them over in a not so smooth twist. It makes her laugh as they crumple down into the rug, with him between her thighs, his face burrowed into her hair as he chuckles beside her. “Smooth.”

“Hush. It’s been a while.”

“Out of practice are you, Locksley?” She grins, dark and devilish and a complete challenge to Robin to wipe off the smirk that dances on her lips. He doesn’t answer with words, but with two fingers coasting back between her heat, rubbing tight hard circles that make her arch and hitch in her breathing. That’s more like it, he decides as he bites down on her jaw, swallowing the moan that crests out of her with his own ever moving mouth. “I’ve missed you.” she murmurs against his lips, her thighs trembling around his hand as he presses his fingers back into her, mumbling back that he has missed her as well, missed this between them, has dreamt about feeling her again, tasting her on his tongue. A third finger joins, curling up until he hears her gasp in his ear, and he thumps, harder, faster until she is swimming in pleasure, riding the wave of ecstasy only he can give to her.

She’s loud, probably louder than she should be, but her body is on fire for him, acute and sharp spirals cracking from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, and she soaks in every ounce of it. Grinding down on his fingers, grasping at sweaty shoulder blades, her tongue licking a line through soft stubble on his jaw as he groans into her temple. She’d forgotten how much she truly enjoyed this with him. Being otherwise occupied these past few months has let fizzle the memory of how skilled he is with his fingers. Never again will she go this long without feeling him this way. On a particularly hard grind of his palm against her clit, her body crests, falls over the peak with a shriek and clench around him, and he doesn’t stop, simply brushes his nose along her jawline and starts talking in that way, saying those things that have her tumbling farther over the edge.

“God you’re gorgeous.”

She smiles, licks her lips and tilts her mouth upward to capture his own, his fingers slipping from her and landing wetly on her stomach. She stills when they trace along the thin, faint lines that scar her stomach. For as much as he promises he adores them, she absolutely hates the stretch marks, well perhaps not hates them, but would rather they weren’t there and certainly doesn’t want to dwell on them right now, when there are much harder, more pleasurable things pressing into her hip right now. Wrapping an ankle around his calf, curling a hand around his anchoring arm, she pushes her palm against his shoulder, rolling them over till she is saddled on top of him once more.

The husky groan that accompanies the squeeze on her hips has satisfaction licking through her body. She likes that she can do this to him. Make his eyes all dark and hungry for her, have that flush on his chest spread up to his neck, certainly makes her feel sexy, and loved. Pitching forward, her fingers grip through his hair, and her mouth devours his. Robin anchors around her with his hands, grabbing a handful of her backside, begging her silently to grind against his straining arousal. But she is done with teasing, sucks back on his lip, reaches between them to stroke him a few times before sinking down onto him.

His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of her warmth surrounding him, the air collapsing from his lungs as she rolls shallowly up and down, a smug grin creeping into his lips at the pinched gasp she lets drop when he pushes back up into her on a downward thrust. Yes, she has definitely missed his thickness stretching her, the way he fits so god damn perfectly, grinds and strokes every curve and sensitive spot inside. She begins to rock with a streak of aggression, wanting to take everything he gives her. It has her gasping, moaning and letting go some sinfully sexual sounds that have him groaning in response, palming her heavy breasts, toying and pinching her nipples.

A calloused hand creeps up from her hip, and presses into her shoulder blades, forcing her elbows to give way so that he may lave attention to her breasts once more. Once attached to a nipple, he shuffles so his feet are firmly planted on the rug and drives his hips up, hard and fast raps that have her moaning out his name. She’s so bloody hot, wet and tight around him, impossibly perfect, his mind swirls with everything that is her. And just when he thinks nothing could rival this, she sits up fully on his cock, tangling her fingers into her hair and rising up onto her knees before arching back down. She’s a goddess. His goddess. A picture of unparalleled arousal as her hips roll and roll and roll, her breasts bouncing with each push and thrust.

It’s more than he can handle, his eyes flickering between her scrunched up face, belly tightening, breasts bouncing, hard nipples, and he dare not look down where they are joined, it will tip him over the edge if he does. Her voice cracks out between a shaky inhale and a heady groan, his name trembling between her swollen lips as he feels her clench around his length, squeezing rhythmically as they chase her peak together. He bites his tongue, hard enough he can taste the metallic seeping of blood as he forces himself to drive into her harder, gripping her hips and driving till she pitches, shrieks out his name with a beyond erotic arch in her back. She falls, and he is quick behind, a few final pumps into her before he pops like a champagne bottle.

They lay there, Regina jelly-limbed on top of him, swapping lazy, tongue filled kisses, as their heart rates dwindle back down to something remotely normal in the post climax after glow. “I love you, you know that right?” She whispers into the crook of his neck, nosing along his collarbone.

“I do. And I love you.” His lips find her sweaty forehead, “Always, Regina.”

“Me too. Always.”

.

..

…

..

.

Two Months Later

Rose touches everything. Absolutely everything within her reach. Be it hair, fingers, buttons, or blocks. If it’s close, it’s going into her hands, and more than likely into her mouth. It’s drool, gummy never ending drool as toy after toy goes straight into her pink lips. The orange beak of the yellow rubber duck is an apparent favorite too.

“Robin. Give her a pacifier instead please.”

She doesn’t like the pacifier as much, shows her indignance with a shriek when her yellow duck is replaced with the purple soother. He loves the way her brow scrunches, nose upturned (much like her mother’s), and the scowl painted on her face at the removal of her toy in favor of something less riddled with unsanitary germs.

How six months have gone by this quickly he will never know. But here they are, with his proverbial doom’s day leering around the corner, he blocks it all out with everything that is her, both of them in fact. There are very few minutes that pass where he isn’t beside Regina, touching her in some way, telling her that he loves her, for he can see the change in her eyes now that time is beginning to run out on them. The majority of their days are spent on the floor, clapping and singing happy songs to chase away the darkness that is coming. Rosie is scooting now, half crawling on her chubby limbs, and babbling non stop.

Recognition is in her eyes now, even a different unformed noise for each of them. He swears he is “ba” to her. The word sings from her lips whenever she reaches out with ten fat fingers for his attention. It makes his heart soar to the highest of highs. Everything about her is sweet and soft. Her hair is growing, a fuzzy tuft, still, it’s chocolate like Regina’s, but her eyes have stayed dazzling blue like the sky. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this in love, save for Roland, for another person before. It’s different. A father’s love for his daughter. For the muddiness that surrounds a boy, delicacy hugs a girl. And she is as delicate as her namesake. A soft petal to his touch.

She likes Regina’s hair, tugs it in her hands whenever she is cradled into her mother’s chest, chews on strands until they are slick with spit or Regina notices and pulls it from her mouth. With daddy, she is a snuggler. Right into the crook of his neck, again much like her mother, and can fall asleep to the lulling thud of his heartbeat within minutes. Everyone in the castle calls her Sunshine. A happy ray of light that captures each of their attention. They adore her, Granny and Rosetta probably most. She goes easily to them. Toying with the chain on Granny’s glasses, or the sparkly gems on Rosetta’s dress. They adore her, and she them.

But the days with everyone around are near an end, the Charmings along with an eight month old baby Neal have finally decided it’s time to go home. Even if Regina isn’t ready, or Robin for that matter, it is happening and they can do nothing but wait.

She’s tried to give him every explanation she can about Storybrooke. Has drawn out maps and pictures from memory in a sketchbook she’s given him. It has everything and it still feels like not enough. He is going into a new world without her, and he is terrified. Scared to his core that he will flounder. Not that he tells her that. She is already beyond panicked for all of them, burdening her with his own worries won’t help ease any of the anxiety that riddles her. He just smiles, thanks her and tucks the book away. He needs to be her strength, her rock, needs to be the one that can kiss away the fear and promise that it will all work out, to have hope in something she can’t find any in.

He’s also bestowed on her a gift, a small simple braided green bracelet that hangs around her wrist. Something she’d blinked back tears over when he tied it onto her. A memory of their time here together. Something he’d taught her back when they were only teenagers who met on a grassy hill by a lake side, a day where Robin knew his heart belonged with her. Rosie likes to tug at it, curious in her inspection of the pendant Robin had carved that dangles from it. A little flower, a rose carefully crafted from white birch. He’d made himself one as well, a matching tiny ornament that hangs on the simple gold chain Regina had given him months ago. They rest on his heart, to be carried with him wherever he goes.

“Regina? Robin?” Rosetta peaks through the doorway and Regina’s heart sinks at the look on the red fairies face. They’ve run out of time. “Everyone wants to speak with you both in the council chambers.” Robin nods, knowing what is to come, thanks Rosie’s godmother as she leaves them be for a quiet minute and turns his eyes to Regina who already has tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Hey,” his fingers tip her chin up, “Don’t cry.”

She sinks into him, doing the exact opposite of what he asked and simply cries harder into his tunic. He swallows the lump in his throat and kisses the crown of her head, “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

“I don’t want this to happen.”

“I know, love. But think of Henry. You are going to get to see him again.”

She sniffs, and grips his hand, wrapping it around her and their daughter. For as thrilling the idea is to get to see her son again, she is losing another family in the process. It just doesn’t seem fair.

“Look at me.” He dips his chin down, bumping his nose to her own as his forehead rests against hers, “I love you. I always will. No memory curse can ever take that away.” Her silence says nothing and everything as she kisses him sadly, the taste of salty tears coating his tongue. He just wants to see her smile one last time before everything changes.

“Ba!”

He smiles as he parts from Regina’s lips, looking down into bright blue questioning eyes. “Ba!” Her hands reach and fist up into his face. “Oh my sweet little girl.” He scoops her out of Regina’s arms, and settles her to his chest, her cheeks immediately nuzzling into his neck. “I love you, Rosie. Always. Don’t forget that. I love you so much.” A few tears leak from his closed eyes as he inhales her baby soft smell, the feeling of her weight in his arms.

“Daddy? Are we going to the new place now?”

Roland climbs over the bed, eyes welled up as Regina settles him into her lap. “Yes we are.” She kisses his forehead through his curls. “I love you, Roland. You know that right?”

“Mhmm. I love you too, Regina.”

Her eyes meet Robin’s, and he smiles sadly.

.

..

…

..

.

It swirls bright in front of her. Dark pops of color bursting through the gate that glows in the dining hall. A few have already gone through. The dwarves had been first, more than eager to get back. Granny had squeezed Regina’s hand and kissed Rosie sweetly on the forehead before she and Ruby had followed into the black swirl. Regina’s heart clenches painfully watching the crowd around them dwindle until it is just the Charmings, Rosetta and her own family left to cross.

“It’s going to be okay, Regina. I promise. We will find Emma and have this curse removed as fast as possible.” David had sighed, holding Snow’s hand as she quietly sniffed beside him. Finally they appear to have grasped what Regina is about to lose. It doesn’t make it any better though. Nothing can. She won’t be whole until she has Robin and Roland back.

Snow hugs her fiercely tight before walking behind David with Neal in his arms and through the portal. Air runs out of her lungs at the feeling of Robin’s lips pressed to her temple. This is it. The last time she is going to get to have them. “Have faith, Regina.” Rosetta tries to smile as she nuzzles into both Roland and Rosie in their parents hold. “I’ll see you both very soon okay?” Roland nods, still rather uncertain of what is going on, but Rosie simply babbles and reaches out for a shiny gem on the fairies dress. Rosetta brings her palm to Rosie’s hand, blows a glittery kiss that soaks into the baby’s skin. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Robin’s hand is on her back as they watch Rosetta cross. Sweat pooling in his palms as the silence deafens around them. He hears the tremble in Regina’s breath as she turns to find his eyes, her hand cupping his cheek as he leans into the touch and kisses her hand. He wants to say something, but the words catch in his throat as she nods through her tears, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips softly, another to Roland’s forehead.

Together they step through the portal and everything goes dark as she feels his hand slip from her own.

.

..

...

..

.

The sheets are soft as she wakes up to a soft sound she can’t quite place. It sounds like a baby. Frowning her eyes crack slowly open into the blinding light of morning sunshine and her heart stops. She is in her mansion. Her home in Storybrooke. But that’s impossible. They just sent Emma and Henry over the townline to escape Pan’s curse. They should be in the Enchanted Forest. Her spell should have worked. Her heart thunders in her chest as she sits up, her eyes widening at the sight of her rather long hair tumbling over her shoulders and onto swollen round breasts.

A babbling noise has her spinning on the spot and everything freezes as a pair of bright blue eyes stare up at her from a cradle of blankets. There is a baby in her bed. A little girl that looks an awful lot like her, except for her eyes. What the hell was going on? Whose child is this? Is she hers? That’s impossible. She couldn’t have…

“Ba!” A tiny fist stretches up and reaches for something on Regina’s wrist. A braided bracelet with a small ornate charm that looks like a rose. She cradles the little girl, who goes far too easily into her arms for Regina to be a stranger. A soft pink glow radiates from the little girl and Regina’s heart stops as a fuzzy memory of a swollen belly and swirls of rain and petals flutter in a stomach that feels a lot like her own. A low voice muffles out against her ear, a feeling of stubble brushing her shoulder and large hands wrapping around a pregnant belly.

“Ba!”

Bewildered at the hazy image that disappears at the sound of the baby girl’s voice, Regina looks down into her sparkling sky blue eyes. “You’re mine aren’t you?” She smiles in disbelief at the fact she has a daughter. With who she has no idea, but something is clearly a miss. And she needs answers.

“Ba!”

TBC.

#tethered to you #outlaw queen #regina mills #robin hood #once upon a time #oq fan fic #oq celebration

[sere22world]

modern life causes tooth decay, and care is unaffordable

Light gently touches the town on the morning of fall Friday: farmers and miners Bank, grocery store

Letteredsignboard is a yellow brick court that advertises sugar for sale.

In many ways, this is Jonesville, the county seat of Lee County, the poorest county in Virginia, and the farthest Appalachian county here.

On this day, all the attention is focused on the suburbs, where the preparations for the free health clinic will be held on the weekend at the small airport are in progress.

The first group of patients will begin to arrive in a few hours.

They will come from roads and highways, nearby towns and valleys further away from southwest Virginia and Kentucky.

Some people hardly have enough gas to go to Jonesville.

A woman drove from Tennessee with her broken glasses in her arms.

Truck and chestx-

Raymachine has stopped at one end of the runway.

When the sky is a little clear, an old plane will fly on the mountain, bringing folding dental chairs, medical equipment, surgical gauze and glove boxes from Knoxville.

The clinic is organized by the medical volunteer team in remote areas (RAM)

This is a non-profit organization that has led hundreds of missions since its inception in 1985 and has brought medical aid to some of the poorest places on Earth.

This will be Ram\'s first visit to Jonesville.

But health problems in the Appalachian region

Cancer, diabetes, joint injury

Nothing new.

Bad teeth are nothing new.

Toothache is nothing new. In LeeCounty —

Remote, isolated and poor

The shortage of various health care is a long-term problem.

Insufficient staff in main and mental health care.

The shortage of dentists is the worst.

According to federal estimates, about 49 million Americans live in communities designated as dental specialty shortages --

One of them is LeeCounty.

If there is a shortage of local dentists like Li county, there is also a shortage of money to pay them.

\"These people are not forgotten,\" explains John Osborne, head of dental at RAM, a Knoxville dentist.

\"The system has passed.

\"At these free weekend clinics, hundreds, sometimes even thousands of sore teeth are pulled out.

Loss of teeth due to illness may indicate other loss of quality of life.

In terms of oral health, complete tooth loss or tooth loss is called \"the ultimate sign of the burden of disease \".

This is a symbol of failure.

The teeth after tooth extraction will not grow back.

However, when routine care is delayed for a long time, when more complex procedures cannot be realized or selected, the extract meets the urgent need to relieve infection and relieve pain.

The news of the Li County RAM clinic program captured headlines in local newspapers.

People talked about it in churches, gas stations and coffee shops in the United States for a few days. S. 58 bypass.

At the airport this Friday, as volunteers struggled to build a field hospital with tents and folding tables, excitement filled the air.

Volunteer doctors, nurses, dentists and health workers are from out of town \".

A man with a \"friend of coal\" bumper sticker on his truck came here with a pizza.

A member of the high school football team, General Li county, is waiting in a red-numbered jersey to help unload the plane and eat pizza on the runway quietly and hungry.

Then there\'s a deep one.

You can hear the roar of throated, and everyone looks up at the sky.

\"Here comes the plane!

Shouted someone.

WarII-vintageC-World

47 freighters landed smoothly, then glistening on the narrow runway at the foot of the mountain.

Stan Brok, founder of Ram, a skinny, charismatic Englishman

Bornadventurer greeted the crowd in a calm, serious way.

As usual, he was wearing a rustic shirt and trousers, all brown.

Block was known for its water dragon fish in the 1960 s-wrestling co-

Star of Omaha Wild Kingdom TV show mutual aid.

When he launched RAM, his initial goal was to provide health care to people living in remote areas

He visited the third world during his trip.

But when he found out that the United States had someone in urgent need of help, he began organizing clinics closer to home. (

Block died in August 29, 2018 after the book was published. He was 82.

The organization he created, \"Medical in remote areas\", is continuing his work. )

Brok told the football players that the plane they saw was used to invade.

One day, young people of their own age parachuted out of the plane at June parach6, 1944.

\"A lot of young people didn\'t come back,\" he explained, as the football players listened with a shy attention.

Then it\'s time to go to work.

These actions honed by Brock over the years are military-accurate and help convey their urgency.

In the direction of Brok, football players began to transport carefully organized boxes of materials from the plane.

Slowly and methodically, the hospital finally took shape on the weekend.

Areas are set up for medical tests and exams.

Glasses are provided free of charge.

Airport waiting room transformed into asix-

President of dental clinic

When the cold of the evening fell on the mountain, a row of cars and pickup trucks were already formed on the way to the airport.

In the darkness before dawn on Saturday, about 400 people were waiting. Worn-

Out-of-town miners, old farmers, tired housewives, and unemployed workers all took their numbers at the door, wrapped in coats and blankets.

Charlton Strader, a retired construction director with tremor and chronic blocked lung disease, said he had dental benefits in the past, but he lost them.

He said his teeth had begun to \"break \".

\"I have always had a problem that bothers me,\" he said . \".

Randy Peters, a former miner and bed-pad worker with multiple hardening, also suffers from his teeth.

\"I have several broken and several bad tooth decay,\" he said . \".

\"So I can\'t eat.

Ernest hodeway, a disabled miner, said he was here to pull his teeth.

\"It won\'t hurt you, but it will,\" he predicted . \"

When he had to leave the coal mine, his dental insurance was over.

Now his teeth are beginning to disappoint him.

\"My teeth have been fine until I start taking arthritis drugs,\" he explained . \".

\"No one wants to lose their teeth.

I heard you have a good life for a few years.

\"He said he had just paid off the $1,500 he owed for pulling out three bad molars teeth, and he was told to pull out these bad molars teeth before knee surgery.

He is still fighting to save his leg. He showed it.

Terrible swelling.

\"I\'m a good person, but I\'m sure I \'ve been tested,\" he said . \".

When the sun rises completely, the city center of Jonesville is empty.

\"Everyone was pulled out of their teeth at Ram,\" said the waitress at the coffee shop . \".

Throughout the day, the patient came out of the dental clinic and clenched the gauze between the remaining teeth.

They sit in the folding chair under the tent to recover, or wait for friends and relatives who are still in service.

\"I \'ve been pulled twice,\" said unemployed nurse Emma Marcy . \".

\"One was infected under the filler.

Marsee\'s daughter, a waitress, is also waiting to be taken care of in the tent.

Marsee says her financial security depends on her smile.

\"It\'s all about appearance,\" said Marsee, a strawberry blonde with golden eyes.

Who wants a waitress with bad teeth \"if you\'re not healthy --

Look at the individual ,[customers]

Don\'t want that person to take care [them].

Everyone in that big tent is struggling.

\"It\'s hard in this area because there\'s no work,\" Marsee said . \".

Even if people are sitting in folding chairs, some people\'s behavior shows fatalism and they are tired of themselves.

Destruction: The girl with her teeth badly rotted drank another Coke.

A thin mother holds a cup of sweet juice waiting for the baby to see the dentist.

The woman who smoked the cigarette coughed so badly.

A study by the Southwest Virginia Federation of graduate medical education found that \"nerves\" are a common complaint in the region.

\"The neural cause that is often reported is that there are too many problems and too few solutions,\" the authors of a study on the problem found (

Southwest Virginia Federation of graduate medical education, \"Report to the Virginia Parliament, January 2008).

The consortium concluded that residents in the area were more likely to commit suicide than people living elsewhere in the state.

Marsee is also familiar with the dark side.

\"Drug abuse in this area is terrible,\" she said . \"

It\'s shown in some hopeless drugs. Black Teeth

The region has long been poor, but people hate to move on.

\"Your roots are here,\" Marsee said . \".

\"It\'s hard to leave it.

\"There is an ancient and beautiful theme --

The green woods are shrouded in the mountains.

The love of family, the good of neighbors, the good of strangers.

When they die, the teeth burn.

This is a very old pain.

There is silent evidence on the human fossil record: the unearthed ancient mummy with a parcel on the lower jaw.

Alaska\'s front teeth, tired of a simple tool, sometimes between 1300 and 1700. D.

Apparently to relieve the abscess.

The teeth of the Danish people in the Middle Ages have a rosary (

Charlotte Roberts and Keith Manchester, Archaeology of diseases, 82).

Decay is a progressive disease that, if not controlled, causes extreme pain and tooth shedding.

There are many factors.

Diet plays a major role.

In a very old age, when there is less and less exquisite food, toothache is a curse of privilege.

When sugar becomes cheaper, tooth decay, the main cause of toothache, becomes more common.

The habit of drinking sweet soda has been widely influenced.

A stable bath of sugar will never allow the teeth to be repaired and remineralised on their own.

Now, hundreds of ordinarythe-

Prescription drugs taken by millions of Americans make teeth more prone to illness.

One of their side effects is dry mouth, which reduces the natural flow of saliva to clean and buffer teeth, helping to protect teeth from decay.

If there is no fluoride to strengthen the teeth, there is not enough regular home care, and there is no timely professional care, the process of the disease will progress.

Severe toothache is not uncommon.

Millions of Americans experience toothache.

A study by the American Dental Association found that economic factors were the main reason why Americans delayed access to the required professional dental care.

Private or even public dental benefits can help pay for services.

But in 2014, it was estimated that there was a complete shortage of Americans.

While the national health care reform plan, which signed into law in 2010, took significant steps to expand access to dental services for children, it did less in addressing the system of adult fragmentation.

Even many working adults with private health insurance do not have adequate dental insurance.

While regular preventive visits can be covered, beneficiaries typically need to pay a percentage of the cost of surgery such as filling, Crown, root canal and implants, which can run to hundreds, thousands of dollars. Among U. S.

A 2015 survey found that for adults struggling with unpaid medical expenses, 12 u202f % of dental bills accounted for the largest share of the bills they paid for the problem.

The researchers concluded: \"Insurance is not a panacea for solving these problems . \"

Most people with dental benefits will lose them after retirement.

Health insurance is a health care program in the United States that covers about 55 million elderly and disabled people, but does not include regular dental services.

Of the more than 1 million residents in nursing homes in the United States, many have particularly severe dental problems.

Since 1987, when federal law sets new standards for institutions receiving health insurance and Medicaid funding, nursing homes are required to provide oral health care services.

However, in the daily cycle of cleaning, turning over and replacing bedridden and disabled patients, simple brushing and dentures care is often overlooked.

The authors of a survey note: \"Clinical studies in most nursing home residents report that oral hygiene is generally inadequate and that related dental, gum, and periodontal conditions are also prevalent . \".

\"Medical and care services are provided almost uniformly, while dental and mental health services are rarely provided.

\"Visits by dental professionals are also rare in many institutions.

Many patients at Louis Anna State dentist Gregory Falls say he has been in his rounds of nursing homes and has not been cared for years.

When he looked at the mouth of a new patient, he was not surprised to find rotten, rampant infections, broken limbs in his teeth, and even cancer in his mouth.

As the dental director of these families, he was given an allowance.

Most patients receive Medicaid, but there are very few adult dental benefits in the state.

Folse estimated that he donated more services than he charged for Medicaid.

He said that he travels 40 to 50,000 miles through the jungle and the Bay every year, drives a pickup truck, carries portable tools and instruments, sets up facilities in nursing homes, community rooms and beauty salons to repair false teeth, tooth extraction.

\"900 patients with severe gum disease or abscess.

Half my patients.

I took all the swollen ones away.

Everyone is in pain.

All the loose teeth

I help them as much as I can.

No money, no money.

Families pay some, nursing homes.

Nobody pays sometimes. I do it.

\"It\'s a challenge for some patients to have dementia and let them open their mouths.

The work is rewarding, he said.

\"I have a patient in a wheelchair.

She had a stroke.

She was happy to have her dentures.

She reached out and grabbed her wallet.

She got inside.

She found a piece of bread. ‘Here doc. Take it.

\"I don\'t want to eat her last piece of bread,\" FRES said with a smile . \".

\"I don\'t know how long it took to put it at the bottom of her wallet.

We have to give up because we are rich.

She gave me her poverty.

\"The rate of tooth damage is a serious economic indicator.

The poor are more likely to suffer from toothache.

Their oral health is worse and it\'s hard to find a dentist who will treat them.

The lack of funding to pay for health care is a major hurdle: one out of every five Americans is covered with Medicaid, a huge federal

The national health care program for the poor.

However, since only a small number of dentists see Medicaid patients, insurance does not guarantee access to treatment.

Under Medicaid, children are entitled to dental care, but often face difficulties in accessing services.

Less than half of dentists see any Medicaid patients in most states included in the 2010 study in the United States. S.

Office of Government Accountability

A 2016 study by the American Dental Association found that in the program\'s database of insured children, the proportion of dentists registered as Medicaid providers nationwide was 42.

But this percentage does not necessarily reflect the percentage of dentists actually participating in this program.

\"That doesn\'t mean you see a child with Medicaid.

That doesn\'t mean you have an open date, \"said Marko Vujicic, an economist who helped lead the study.

\"Think of it as what it is.

This is the best data we have.

\"This is more difficult for adult beneficiaries of Medicaid.

Adult dental benefits are an optional part of the state Medicaid program.

They are the first line of projects during the fiscal tightening period and will eventually become the chopping board for the budget.

Toothache is the destroyer of sleep.

They make it very painful to eat, work and raise children.

It is the poor who are most likely to pray to heaven for relief.

They resort to legal and illegal drugs and civilian remedies.

Some even pulled their teeth out of despair.

In the free clinic in Li county, in the solid, stoic mountain people, Tabitha Hay, her fragile face and dark eyes looked like a lost Tropical was blown away by the storm.

She and her motherin-

Lao and her husband arrived at the clinic after the 13 th.

Bellevue, Florida is an hour\'s drive away. They were self-employed.

They clean the house and take care of the pets. off retirees.

After work on Friday night, they drove all night to Jonesville.

All three of them need to be taken care of, but Tabitha, twenty

Six, the most needed.

She was hurt by a molar tooth that rotted under the filling.

\"I feel like my chin is squashed,\" she said . \".

\"Sometimes the pressure is like an explosion.

I\'m hungry, but I can\'t eat it.

In order to sleep, I have to put a heating pad on it and nothing can eliminate the pain.

\"After missing a week of work, she tried to get back to work the day before her trip.

\"I try to work.

I can\'t do anything.

I cried in the back seat.

A dentist in Florida told her that the cost of the withdrawal would reach $500, she said.

That\'s the money she didn\'t have.

She arrived too late to receive care at the free clinic on Saturday.

She was told to wait until Sunday.

At night, she slept in red Kia with her husband and mother --in-

Face another night of pain.

[dangkynhanhieusanphamcom]

How Anti-Vaccine Sentiment Took Hold in the United States

The question is often whispered, the questioners sheepish. But increasingly, parents at the Central Park playground where Dr. Elizabeth A. Comen takes her young children have been asking her: “Do you vaccinate your kids?”

Dr. Comen, an oncologist who has treated patients for cancers related to the human papillomavirus that a vaccine can now prevent, replies emphatically: Absolutely.

She never imagined she would be getting such queries. Yet these playground exchanges are reflective of the national conversation at the end of the second decade of the 21st century — a time of stunning scientific and medical advances but also a time when the United States may, next month, lose its World Health Organization designation as a country that has eliminated measles, because of outbreaks this year. The W.H.O. has listed vaccine hesitancy as one of the top threats to global health.

As millions of families face back-to-school medical requirements and forms this month, the contentiousness surrounding vaccines is heating up again, with possibly even more fervor.

Though the situation may seem improbable to some, anti-vaccine sentiment has been building for decades, a byproduct of an internet humming with rumor and misinformation; the backlash against Big Pharma; an infatuation with celebrities that gives special credence to the anti-immunization statements from actors like Jenny McCarthy, Jim Carrey and Alicia Silverstone, the rapper Kevin Gates and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. And now, the Trump administration’s anti-science rhetoric.

“Science has become just another voice in the room,” said Dr. Paul A. Offit, an infectious disease expert at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. “It has lost its platform. Now, you simply declare your own truth.”

The constituents who make up the so-called vaccine resistant come from disparate groups, and include anti-government libertarians, apostles of the all-natural and parents who believe that doctors should not dictate medical decisions about children. Labeling resisters with one dismissive stereotype would be wrongheaded.

“To just say that these parents are ignorant or selfish is an easy trope,” said Jennifer Reich, a sociologist at the University of Colorado Denver, who studies vaccine-resistant families.

[Why did we start listening to celebrities about vaccines? Read more.]

It remains true that the overwhelming majority of American parents have their children vaccinated. Parent-driven groups like Voices for Vaccines, formed to counter anti-vaccination sentiment, have proliferated. Five states have eliminated exemptions for religious and philosophical reasons, permitting only medical opt-outs.

Seven states reported rates for the M.M.R. vaccine that were far lower for kindergartners, including Kansas at 89.1 percent; New Hampshire, 92.4 percent; the District of Columbia, 81.3 percent. (The highest is West Virginia at 98.4 percent.)

Almost all states have at least one anti-vaccine group. At least four have registered political action committees, supporting candidates who favor less restrictive vaccine exemption policies.

Public health experts say that patients and many doctors may not appreciate the severity of diseases that immunizations have thwarted, like polio, which can affect the spinal cord and brain — because they probably have not seen cases.

“Vaccines are a victim of their own success,” said Dr. Offit, a co-inventor of a vaccine for rotavirus, which can cause severe diarrhea in young children. “We have largely eliminated the memory of many diseases.”

The growth of vaccine doubt in America coincides with several competing forces and attitudes.

Since the early 2000s, as the number of required childhood vaccines was increasing, a generation of parents was becoming hypervigilant about their children and, through social media, patting each other on the backs for doing so. In their view, parents who permitted vaccination were gullible toadies of status quo medicine.

In 2011, Dana Fuqua, of Aurora, Colo., pregnant with her first child, felt that irresistible pull of groupthink parenting.

She had just moved to the area, so she reached out to mothers’ groups on Facebook. Colorado, with a kindergarten vaccination compliance rate of 88.7 percent, has a rambunctious vaccine-resistant movement. Ms. Fuqua’s new friends urged her to have a drug-free birth, use cloth diapers and never to let a drop of formula pass her baby’s lips. Vaccines, it followed, were anathema.

The women intimidated her. They had advanced degrees; she had only a bachelor of science and a nursing background.

“I didn’t argue with them,” Ms. Fuqua said. “I was so desperate for their support that I compromised by delaying the vaccine schedule, so I wouldn’t get kicked out of the group.”

But when her second child was born prematurely, susceptible to illness, the group’s approval was not as important as her baby’s safety. Her position, she said, shifted from, “‘I can’t hang out with you if you had a vaccine because you could be shedding a virus’” — a common, false belief among the vaccine resistant — to, “ ‘If you haven’t had a vaccine, I will not associate with you.’”

She had both children fully vaccinated.

There have been anti-vaccination movements at least since 1796, when Edward Jenner invented the smallpox vaccine. But many experts say that the current one can be traced to 1982, when NBC aired a documentary, “DPT: Vaccine Roulette,” that took up a controversy percolating in England: a purported tie between the vaccine for pertussis — a potentially fatal disease that can cause lung problems — and seizures in young children.

Doctors sharply criticized the show as dangerously inaccurate. But fear spread. Anti-vaccination groups formed. Many companies stopped making vaccines, which were considered loss-leaders and not worth the corporate headache.

Then, in 1998, Andrew Wakefield, a British gastroenterologist, published a Lancet study (since discredited and withdrawn), associating the M.M.R. vaccine with autism.

Faced with risking autism or measles, some parents thought the answer was obvious. Most had never seen measles, mumps or rubella because vaccines had nearly eliminated them. But they believed they knew autism.

And most people are notoriously poor at assessing risk, say experts in medical decision-making.

Many stumble on omission bias: “We would rather not do something and have something bad happen, than do something and have something bad happen,” explained Alison M. Buttenheim, an associate professor of nursing and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing.

People are flummoxed by numerical risk. “We pay more attention to numerators, such as ‘16 adverse events,’ than we do to denominators, such as ‘per million vaccine doses,’ ” Dr. Buttenheim said.

A concept called “ambiguity aversion” is also involved, she added. “Parents would like to be told that vaccines are 100 percent safe,” she said. “But that’s not a standard we hold any medical treatment to.”

Relatively few people are absolutists about refusing all vaccines. “But if you’re uncertain about a decision, you’ll find those who confirm your bias and cement what you think,” said Rupali J. Limaye, a social scientist who studies vaccine behaviors at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Nowhere is that reinforcement more clamorous than on social media, Dr. Limaye added. “You may only see your pediatrician a few times a year but you can spend all day on the internet,” she said.

People tend to believe an individual’s anecdotal narrative over abstract numbers. By 2007, when Ms. McCarthy, the actress, insisted that vaccines caused her son’s autism, thousands found her to be more persuasive than data showing otherwise. A nascent movement took hold.

At the same time that these powerful attacks on vaccine confidence were underway, a constellation of trends was emerging.

The definition of a good parent was becoming fraught with the responsibility for overseeing every aspect of a child’s life.

“As we adopted a culture of individualistic parenting, public health became a hard sell,” Dr. Reich said.

The primary reason for healthy people to get the flu shot is to protect those with compromised immune systems, like infants and older adults, from getting sick. But altruism isn’t a great motivator for parents, Dr. Buttenheim said. “They are much more concerned about protecting their own child at all costs,” she said.

Contrast that attitude with the collective good will of the 1950s, say medical sociologists, when American parents who had seen President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s wheelchair as a debilitating symbol of polio patriotically sought to vaccinate their children to help eradicate the disease worldwide.

By 2014, studies showed that parental confidence in authorities like the C.D.C. and in pediatricians was dropping, especially around vaccines. Mistrust of Big Pharma was even more pronounced.

By then, Donald Trump was offering support on Twitter for the discredited link between autism and vaccination. As president-elect, he met with leaders of the anti-vaccination movement, although as measles cases surged, he endorsed vaccination.

As parenting became rife with orthodoxy, the Marcus Welby model of the paternalistic doctor retreated. Patients asserted autonomy, brandishing internet printouts at doctors. Shared decision-making became the model of doctor-patient engagement.

Pediatricians offered to stagger vaccine schedules. Some were even flexible about vaccinations altogether.

In 2011, shortly after Emma Wagner had given birth in Savannah, Ga., a pediatrician on the ward examined the baby. “He asked me if I was interested in the hepatitis B vaccine,” she said of an inoculation typically done at birth.

She was apprehensive.

He replied, “‘That’s fine, because your 2-day-old daughter isn’t a prostitute and isn’t using I.V. drugs, so hep B isn’t at the top of my worries.’”

Ms. Wagner said she “swallowed the anti-vax Kool-Aid. I was motivated by fear. I thought, ‘Until I know for certain that these are safe, I won’t do it.’ The pediatrician said, ‘I will support your decision and in a few years we’ll talk about exemptions for school.’”

She has since become a staunch supporter of immunization.

Libertarianism also courses through vaccine hesitation, with parents who assert that government should not be able to tell them what to put in their bodies — a position often marketed as “the right to choose.”

“Having the government order them to do something reinforces conspiracy theories,” said Daniel Salmon, director of the Institute for Vaccine Safety at Johns Hopkins. “And people perceive their risk to be higher when it’s not voluntary.”

In reality, he said, one’s risk of harm is greater while driving to an airport than it is being on the airplane itself. But driving is voluntary and gives the illusion of control. People fear flying because they cannot control the plane. By extension, many childhood vaccines are not voluntary, which rattles those who prefer to believe they can control their health.

With so many different but deeply held convictions, public health experts struggle to design vaccine-positive campaigns.

In 2017, researchers applied the six values of “the moral foundations theory” to vaccine attitudes, surveying 1,007 American parents.

The results were intriguing. Those most resistant to vaccines scored highest in two values: purity (“my body is a temple”) and liberty (“I want to make my child’s health care decisions”).

A third, said Saad B. Omer, director of Yale’s Global Health Institute and an author of the study, was also telling: deference to authority — a score indicating whether one was likely to adhere to the advice of experts like a pediatrician or the C.D.C.

Dr. Salmon’s team at Johns Hopkins is working on an app to capture parents’ vaccine attitudes and to tailor information to persuade them to vaccinate their children.

Pediatricians are front-line persuaders, he said, and they should be compensated for the time it takes to educate parents.

Most experts note that physicians themselves, never mind parents, have no idea about the federal vaccine monitoring systems, which have been in place for more than 20 years.

“We ask parents in the first two years of their child’s life to protect them against 14 diseases, that most people don’t see, using fluids they don’t understand,” Dr. Offit said. “It’s time for us to stand back and explain ourselves better.”

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How Anti-Vaccine Sentiment Took Hold in the United States

The question is often whispered, the questioners sheepish. But increasingly, parents at the Central Park playground where Dr. Elizabeth A. Comen takes her young children have been asking her: “Do you vaccinate your kids?”

Dr. Comen, an oncologist who has treated patients for cancers related to the human papillomavirus that a vaccine can now prevent, replies emphatically: Absolutely.

She never imagined she would be getting such queries. Yet these playground exchanges are reflective of the national conversation at the end of the second decade of the 21st century — a time of stunning scientific and medical advances but also a time when the United States may, next month, lose its World Health Organization designation as a country that has eliminated measles, because of outbreaks this year. The W.H.O. has listed vaccine hesitancy as one of the top threats to global health.

As millions of families face back-to-school medical requirements and forms this month, the contentiousness surrounding vaccines is heating up again, with possibly even more fervor.

Though the situation may seem improbable to some, anti-vaccine sentiment has been building for decades, a byproduct of an internet humming with rumor and misinformation; the backlash against Big Pharma; an infatuation with celebrities that gives special credence to the anti-immunization statements from actors like Jenny McCarthy, Jim Carrey and Alicia Silverstone, the rapper Kevin Gates and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. And now, the Trump administration’s anti-science rhetoric.

“Science has become just another voice in the room,” said Dr. Paul A. Offit, an infectious disease expert at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. “It has lost its platform. Now, you simply declare your own truth.”

The constituents who make up the so-called vaccine resistant come from disparate groups, and include anti-government libertarians, apostles of the all-natural and parents who believe that doctors should not dictate medical decisions about children. Labeling resisters with one dismissive stereotype would be wrongheaded.

“To just say that these parents are ignorant or selfish is an easy trope,” said Jennifer Reich, a sociologist at the University of Colorado Denver, who studies vaccine-resistant families.

[Why did we start listening to celebrities about vaccines? Read more.]

It remains true that the overwhelming majority of American parents have their children vaccinated. Parent-driven groups like Voices for Vaccines, formed to counter anti-vaccination sentiment, have proliferated. Five states have eliminated exemptions for religious and philosophical reasons, permitting only medical opt-outs.

Seven states reported rates for the M.M.R. vaccine that were far lower for kindergartners, including Kansas at 89.1 percent; New Hampshire, 92.4 percent; the District of Columbia, 81.3 percent. (The highest is West Virginia at 98.4 percent.)

Almost all states have at least one anti-vaccine group. At least four have registered political action committees, supporting candidates who favor less restrictive vaccine exemption policies.

Public health experts say that patients and many doctors may not appreciate the severity of diseases that immunizations have thwarted, like polio, which can affect the spinal cord and brain — because they probably have not seen cases.

“Vaccines are a victim of their own success,” said Dr. Offit, a co-inventor of a vaccine for rotavirus, which can cause severe diarrhea in young children. “We have largely eliminated the memory of many diseases.”

The growth of vaccine doubt in America coincides with several competing forces and attitudes.

Since the early 2000s, as the number of required childhood vaccines was increasing, a generation of parents was becoming hypervigilant about their children and, through social media, patting each other on the backs for doing so. In their view, parents who permitted vaccination were gullible toadies of status quo medicine.

In 2011, Dana Fuqua, of Aurora, Colo., pregnant with her first child, felt that irresistible pull of groupthink parenting.

She had just moved to the area, so she reached out to mothers’ groups on Facebook. Colorado, with a kindergarten vaccination compliance rate of 88.7 percent, has a rambunctious vaccine-resistant movement. Ms. Fuqua’s new friends urged her to have a drug-free birth, use cloth diapers and never to let a drop of formula pass her baby’s lips. Vaccines, it followed, were anathema.

The women intimidated her. They had advanced degrees; she had only a bachelor of science and a nursing background.

“I didn’t argue with them,” Ms. Fuqua said. “I was so desperate for their support that I compromised by delaying the vaccine schedule, so I wouldn’t get kicked out of the group.”

But when her second child was born prematurely, susceptible to illness, the group’s approval was not as important as her baby’s safety. Her position, she said, shifted from, “‘I can’t hang out with you if you had a vaccine because you could be shedding a virus’” — a common, false belief among the vaccine resistant — to, “ ‘If you haven’t had a vaccine, I will not associate with you.’”

She had both children fully vaccinated.

There have been anti-vaccination movements at least since 1796, when Edward Jenner invented the smallpox vaccine. But many experts say that the current one can be traced to 1982, when NBC aired a documentary, “DPT: Vaccine Roulette,” that took up a controversy percolating in England: a purported tie between the vaccine for pertussis — a potentially fatal disease that can cause lung problems — and seizures in young children.

Doctors sharply criticized the show as dangerously inaccurate. But fear spread. Anti-vaccination groups formed. Many companies stopped making vaccines, which were considered loss-leaders and not worth the corporate headache.

Then, in 1998, Andrew Wakefield, a British gastroenterologist, published a Lancet study (since discredited and withdrawn), associating the M.M.R. vaccine with autism.

Faced with risking autism or measles, some parents thought the answer was obvious. Most had never seen measles, mumps or rubella because vaccines had nearly eliminated them. But they believed they knew autism.

And most people are notoriously poor at assessing risk, say experts in medical decision-making.

Many stumble on omission bias: “We would rather not do something and have something bad happen, than do something and have something bad happen,” explained Alison M. Buttenheim, an associate professor of nursing and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing.

People are flummoxed by numerical risk. “We pay more attention to numerators, such as ‘16 adverse events,’ than we do to denominators, such as ‘per million vaccine doses,’ ” Dr. Buttenheim said.

A concept called “ambiguity aversion” is also involved, she added. “Parents would like to be told that vaccines are 100 percent safe,” she said. “But that’s not a standard we hold any medical treatment to.”

Relatively few people are absolutists about refusing all vaccines. “But if you’re uncertain about a decision, you’ll find those who confirm your bias and cement what you think,” said Rupali J. Limaye, a social scientist who studies vaccine behaviors at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Nowhere is that reinforcement more clamorous than on social media, Dr. Limaye added. “You may only see your pediatrician a few times a year but you can spend all day on the internet,” she said.

People tend to believe an individual’s anecdotal narrative over abstract numbers. By 2007, when Ms. McCarthy, the actress, insisted that vaccines caused her son’s autism, thousands found her to be more persuasive than data showing otherwise. A nascent movement took hold.

At the same time that these powerful attacks on vaccine confidence were underway, a constellation of trends was emerging.

The definition of a good parent was becoming fraught with the responsibility for overseeing every aspect of a child’s life.

“As we adopted a culture of individualistic parenting, public health became a hard sell,” Dr. Reich said.

The primary reason for healthy people to get the flu shot is to protect those with compromised immune systems, like infants and older adults, from getting sick. But altruism isn’t a great motivator for parents, Dr. Buttenheim said. “They are much more concerned about protecting their own child at all costs,” she said.

Contrast that attitude with the collective good will of the 1950s, say medical sociologists, when American parents who had seen President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s wheelchair as a debilitating symbol of polio patriotically sought to vaccinate their children to help eradicate the disease worldwide.

By 2014, studies showed that parental confidence in authorities like the C.D.C. and in pediatricians was dropping, especially around vaccines. Mistrust of Big Pharma was even more pronounced.

By then, Donald Trump was offering support on Twitter for the discredited link between autism and vaccination. As president-elect, he met with leaders of the anti-vaccination movement, although as measles cases surged, he endorsed vaccination.

As parenting became rife with orthodoxy, the Marcus Welby model of the paternalistic doctor retreated. Patients asserted autonomy, brandishing internet printouts at doctors. Shared decision-making became the model of doctor-patient engagement.

Pediatricians offered to stagger vaccine schedules. Some were even flexible about vaccinations altogether.

In 2011, shortly after Emma Wagner had given birth in Savannah, Ga., a pediatrician on the ward examined the baby. “He asked me if I was interested in the hepatitis B vaccine,” she said of an inoculation typically done at birth.

She was apprehensive.

He replied, “‘That’s fine, because your 2-day-old daughter isn’t a prostitute and isn’t using I.V. drugs, so hep B isn’t at the top of my worries.’”

Ms. Wagner said she “swallowed the anti-vax Kool-Aid. I was motivated by fear. I thought, ‘Until I know for certain that these are safe, I won’t do it.’ The pediatrician said, ‘I will support your decision and in a few years we’ll talk about exemptions for school.’”

She has since become a staunch supporter of immunization.

Libertarianism also courses through vaccine hesitation, with parents who assert that government should not be able to tell them what to put in their bodies — a position often marketed as “the right to choose.”

“Having the government order them to do something reinforces conspiracy theories,” said Daniel Salmon, director of the Institute for Vaccine Safety at Johns Hopkins. “And people perceive their risk to be higher when it’s not voluntary.”

In reality, he said, one’s risk of harm is greater while driving to an airport than it is being on the airplane itself. But driving is voluntary and gives the illusion of control. People fear flying because they cannot control the plane. By extension, many childhood vaccines are not voluntary, which rattles those who prefer to believe they can control their health.

With so many different but deeply held convictions, public health experts struggle to design vaccine-positive campaigns.

In 2017, researchers applied the six values of “the moral foundations theory” to vaccine attitudes, surveying 1,007 American parents.

The results were intriguing. Those most resistant to vaccines scored highest in two values: purity (“my body is a temple”) and liberty (“I want to make my child’s health care decisions”).

A third, said Saad B. Omer, director of Yale’s Global Health Institute and an author of the study, was also telling: deference to authority — a score indicating whether one was likely to adhere to the advice of experts like a pediatrician or the C.D.C.

Dr. Salmon’s team at Johns Hopkins is working on an app to capture parents’ vaccine attitudes and to tailor information to persuade them to vaccinate their children.

Pediatricians are front-line persuaders, he said, and they should be compensated for the time it takes to educate parents.

Most experts note that physicians themselves, never mind parents, have no idea about the federal vaccine monitoring systems, which have been in place for more than 20 years.

“We ask parents in the first two years of their child’s life to protect them against 14 diseases, that most people don’t see, using fluids they don’t understand,” Dr. Offit said. “It’s time for us to stand back and explain ourselves better.”

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80 Nature Quotes about Reconnecting with Mother Earth

Looking for thought-provoking nature quotes and sayings that will help you reconnect with mother earth? The nature quotes below will remind you of her beauty.

Most of us already know that being in nature has healing properties.

You don’t need to be a doctor to immediately realize how we feel better when we are outside, in nature.

Got tired eyes from working on the computer all day? Rest your eyes on something green.

Stressed after a long week’s hard work?

A jog around the park should do the trick.

Apart from providing us with food and medicinal herbs, simply being among greenery can help revive weary spirits.

But what if you’re in the urban jungle?

Do you live away from the nearest park or nature reserve?

Don’t worry: there are plenty of ways to be with Nature even while living in the city.

For instance, you could keep indoor potted plants at home.

Tiny herb gardens of your favorite spices are also a nice addition.

Check out these amazing nature quotes to help you reconnect with Mother Earth again.

After all, it’s been a while and she misses you…

Inspirational nature quotes to help you reconnect with Mother Earth

1.) “I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy.’” – Sylvia Plath

2.) “The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” – Percy Bysshe Shelley

3.) “The mountains are calling and I must go.” – John Muir

4.) “In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”- Margaret Atwood

5.) “I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.” – George Carlin

6.) “I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.” – William Shakespeare

7.) “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

8.) “The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.” – John Muir

9.) “We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.” – Charlotte Brontë

10.) “If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.” – Maggie Stiefvater

Moving nature quotes and sayings

11.) “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” – Henry David Thoreau

12.) “…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?” – Vincent van Gogh

13.) “Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.” – Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

14.) “Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.” – Rachel Carson

15.) “I am glad I will not be young in a future without wilderness.” – Aldo Leopold

16.) “Our task must be to free ourselves…by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty.” – Albert Einstein

17.) “Not just beautiful, though – the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they’re watching me.” – Haruki Murakami

18.) “The goal of life is to make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe, to match your nature with Nature.” – Joseph Campbell

19.) “Plant seeds of happiness, hope, success, and love; it will all come back to you in abundance. This is the law of nature.” – Steve Maraboli

Inspirational nature quotes about the earth and environment

20.) “Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.” – Gary Snyder

More beautiful nature quotes to inspire your love for Mother Earth

21.) “When you do something noble and beautiful and nobody noticed, do not be sad. For the sun every morning is a beautiful spectacle and yet most of the audience still sleeps.” – John Lennon

22.) “…If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.” – Mary Oliver

23.) “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.” – John Muir

24.) “The poetry of the earth is never dead.” – John Keats

25.) “And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”

– Wendell Berry

26.) “No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.” – John Donne

27.) “The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.” – William Blake

28.) “We kill all the caterpillars, then complain there are no butterflies.” – John Marsden

29.) “Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.” – Chad Sugg

Inspirational nature quotes about joy and life

30.) “The world’s big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.” – John Muir

31.) “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” – Albert Einstein

32.) “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'”―Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass.

33.) “Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you.”  – Frank Lloyd Wright

34.) “I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.” – Emma Goldman

35.) “The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.” – Rabindranath Tagore

36.) “If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” – Laura Ingalls Wilder

37.)  “Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

38.)  “Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” – Hans Christian Andersen

39.) “There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.” – Lord Byron

40.) “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” – Lao Tzu

Nature quotes to remind of its beauty

41.) “Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”—John Muir, Our National Parks

42.) “I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

43.) “To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.'”—Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

44.) “‘Is the spring coming?’ he said. ‘What is it like?’ …’It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth.’” —Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

45.) “I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful — an endless prospect of magic and wonder.” –Ansel Adams

46.) “In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.” – Aristotle

47.) “Nature is pleased with simplicity. And nature is no dummy” ― Isaac Newton

48.) “Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!’” – Robin Williams

49.) “If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” – Vincent Van Gogh

49.) “An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.” – Henry David Thoreau

50.) “Mother Nature speaks in a language understood within the peaceful mind of the sincere observer.” – Radhanath Swami

More beautiful nature quotes

51.) “Looking at beauty in the world, is the first step of purify

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How badass Brie Larson buffed up for ‘Captain Marvel’

Brie Larson turned heads final month when she posted an Instagram video that confirmed her pushing a Jeep uphill together with her again. The 5-foot-7 powerhouse received completely ripped to play Carol Danvers, an air power pilot who features alien superpowers throughout an accident within the new “Captain Marvel” film, out Friday. The Oscar winner instructed Ellen DeGeneres that she was motivated to carry out the superhuman bodily feat due to an ongoing joke together with her coach Jason Walsh. “Captain Marvel can transfer planets, so I used to be like, ‘I simply need to have the ability to push your automotive,’ ” Larson, 29, defined on the present. “If I might push your Jeep, then I’ll really feel like I used to be prepared. So it occurred.” Walsh provides his star shopper reward for the now-viral vehicular victory: “This can be a 5,000-pound machine. Give her some credit score,” he tells The Put up. Nonetheless, the coach isn’t sometimes taken with such eye-catching social-media moments. “It’s a bunch of crap to be sincere,” he says of utilizing strikes just like the Jeep stunt to get match. “I don’t practice individuals like that. We don’t flip tires. We don’t do burpees. Please don’t take [pushing a car] as part of our coaching. We’re sensible right here.” The 43-year-old Walsh, who has remodeled the our bodies of Hollywood stars comparable to John Krasinski, Emily Blunt, Alison Brie and Emma Stone, favors a long-term “systematic” strategy that builds energy whereas avoiding overuse accidents. And it clearly works. After 9 months of working with Walsh, Larson was in a position to deadlift 215 kilos, do 10 pull-ups, hip thrust 400 kilos and carry out most of her personal stunts, together with falls — a feat that made Walsh extremely proud. “That’s epic. It doesn’t occur — particularly in Marvel films,” he says. “The stunt coordinators and everybody round her was blown away with how athletic she grew to become.” How did they do it? By going again to fundamentals. ‘The stunt coordinators and everybody round her was blown away with how athletic she grew to become.’ Earlier than his shoppers are allowed to even choose up a weight, they should excellent basic strikes comparable to hinging on the waist, squatting, lunging and even crawling. “This was the best way we had been innately born to maneuver, however as we become old, by means of sitting, unhealthy coaching, postural stuff and accidents, it will get us away from these foundational actions,” he says. “Individuals don’t need to do the groundwork. We do the groundwork. “I make individuals earn the power to do bad-ass workout routines. You must be actually good on the technical facet earlier than we put weight into your palms.” As soon as his shoppers grasp these actions, he provides in numerous variables comparable to heavier weights, extra reps or quicker tempos. This can be a philosophy Walsh realized from his earlier profession coaching faculty athletes and NFL gamers. The Missouri native has a level in train and sports activities science from the College of North Carolina, the place he grew to become a energy and conditioning coach for the faculty’s athletes. He then labored below NFL energy coach Luke Richesson and ready soccer gamers for the league’s mix. In 2005, he went to Los Angeles as a result of “I met a lady, and he or she lived in LA,” he says. “It sounds so cliche.” Whereas visiting the showbiz metropolis, he checked out the health scene and was shocked by the shortage of innovation. “There was no actual, true science being utilized. It was like physique constructing, aerobics and peculiar s – – t. I mentioned, ‘There’s a possibility right here.’ ” Brie Larson gained 15 kilos of muscle for the movie, and has been exhibiting off her glossy physique on the purple carpet, selling the movie in Captain Marvel’s robust, patriotic hues.Getty Pictures; Reuters His hunch panned out large time. Watch almost any motion, superhero or sci-fi flick, and also you’ll spot a bod sculpted by Walsh. (Walsh created two weeks’ value of free exercises impressed by Larson for the app Playbook.) And so when Larson landed the function of Captain Marvel, she tapped him due to the work he did with Emily Blunt for “Fringe of Tomorrow,” a film that required the British star to put on an exoskeleton costume that weighed greater than 70 kilos. “Brie instructed me she was so impressed by the best way Emily regarded in that film,” he says. “Emily educated very very similar to an athlete.” Larson began on daily basis — even when not coaching — with creatine, a complement that’s purported to assist enhance muscle energy and athletic efficiency. “Each morning, I had her take a teaspoon of creatine, put it on her tongue and wash it down with water. That’s the cool solution to do it. The creatine is our model of the ‘Rocky’ uncooked egg,” says Walsh. She adopted a paleo-esque weight-reduction plan, however as her coaching progressed, she added in wholesome carbohydrates comparable to rice and candy potatoes. “She grew to become ravenous,” he says. “When you’ve got a greater engine, and you might be performing very well, it’s a must to gasoline the physique.” In keeping with Walsh, they labored up to sweating 4 instances per week, with two periods a day. Jason Walsh demonstrates a entice bar lifeless elevate.Joe Kohen Along with energy coaching, Walsh added in bursts of “conditioning” strikes, designed to boost the center fee and work the entire physique, comparable to pushing a sled or squat jumps. He additionally prescribed the 30-minute courses at his Rise Nation studio in West Hollywood. It’s a non-impact exercise finished on a VersaClimber, a machine that retains the person upright and mimics a vertical climb, to dance-worthy beats. Over the 9 months she educated, Larson placed on about 15 kilos of muscle. “As we began ramping up the coaching course of into excessive gear, she grew to become stronger and heavier. She gained muscle weight however grew to become smaller,” he says. “Her physique actually tightened up. She would go to the costume becoming, and so they had been freaking out and getting pissed off, as a result of they needed to hold taking the swimsuit in.” Nonetheless, even Captain Marvel wants a confidence booster. “She has to carry herself in a approach that’s like, ‘F – – okay yeah, I’m robust. I’m a superhero,’ ” says Walsh. And there’s one transfer that he thinks does simply that, each bodily and mentally. “Pull-ups are my favourite. It’s the one train that folks say, ‘I can’t do it.’ I file that away, and when [we’ve progressed enough,] I say, ‘All proper, let’s do that.’ And when they can carry out their first pull-up, that’s epic.” It took Larson about three months to achieve that milestone, which Walsh says was a turning level of their coaching. “When the physique begins performing, it’s a factor of magnificence and an artwork kind,” he says. “You’re instructed you possibly can’t for so lengthy, however then whenever you do it, that’s whenever you begin to actually consider. That’s highly effective.” Share this: https://nypost.com/2019/03/04/how-badass-brie-larson-buffed-up-for-captain-marvel/ The post How badass Brie Larson buffed up for ‘Captain Marvel’ appeared first on My style by Kartia. http://www.kartiavelino.com/2019/03/how-badass-brie-larson-buffed-up-for-captain-marvel.html