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luveline · 29 days

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Hii I sent the ask for more kbd could you please write them all going on there first family holiday lovely 🤍🫶🏻

love u <3 kbd au —the harrington’s vacation !! mom!reader, 1.5k

This is a good idea, you repeat to each other for weeks. Paying for the flights, making lists, getting Dove her baby passport, packing the suitcases days in advance.

Most of the time you agree with one another. The day you buy Avery and Beth little swimsuits Steve can’t stop smiling, and the nights leading up to it are like Christmas for Avery when she remembers (and Beth when Avery tells her).

But the night before you’re sick to your stomach, and then Steve can’t breathe right at the airport, but you get on your plane, and somehow the girls are good. Dove cries when you land because of the pressure change, but she’s soothed by the time you’re past the gate and into the sunshine.

“Steve,” you say, Dove strapped to your chest, world's heaviest baby bag on your shoulder, “sweetheart, we’re here.”

He holds Beth’s hand, who in turn holds Avery’s hand, trying to pull the world’s biggest suitcase behind you without running over his own foot. “I told you it would be easy.”

Your children look beautiful. Avery wears a sun visor cap and a blue dress with white socks and blue converse, and Bethie wears dungarees and a short sleeve top, little black converse to match her sister but unable to handle the sensory nightmare of a hat. They look ready for the sun, and excited to be somewhere new.

Dove sleeps on your chest. “Easy isn’t the word I’d use,” you mumble, kissing her forehead. “Okay, what’s the next thing? Are we getting the shuttle?”

Steve checks his watch quickly. “It’s another ten minutes,” he says. “Is that okay?” He points at your harness. “Digging into your side?”

“It’s fine.” You bend with your arm behind Dove’s back, turning your smile on your sweethearts where they mill around their dad’s legs. “How do you guys feel now? So happy? I’m so happy we’re not on the plane, we can stretch our tired feet!”

“Yeah, mom!” Avery says.

“Can we have soda?” Bethie asks.

And okay, you promised them treats if they behaved on the plane, but you’re on vacation. It’s allowed.

“Yeah, baby, let’s go find you a coca cola before we get on the big bus!”

You don’t want to pay seventy cents for one can of coke, let alone three dollars for three, but everything will be free when you get to the resort, so what does it matter? Plus, Bethie really, really enjoys it. She beams at the fizzing and begs you to try it like she’s worried you’re missing out.

(It matters. You and Steve are raising three kids on one salary. All inclusive vacations are expensive. They all needed new clothes including you and Steve, clothes and haircuts and mini shampoos. But it genuinely won’t matter if they have a good time, and make good memories.)

“Right,” you say near the shuttle, “Avery, you hold mommy’s hand when we’re outside. Beth, you’ll hold daddy’s. No running, and try to be polite. Deal?”

Avery twines her fingers through yours, little tiny fingers to your fully grown ones. When she looks up at you, she’s practically a hundred percent Steve, his smile, his lovely demeanour, and his attitude too. “Duh, mom. That’s an easy deal.”

Steve ends up carrying Beth onto the shuttle, and off of it again at the resort. She’s in his arms from the lobby to the elevators and into your suite, but she wants promptly to be put down when Steve shows your two girls their room.

“Mom, there’s bears!” She gasps. “It’s Goldilocks!”

A huge storybook mural covers their walls and parts of their ceilings, their single beds outfitted with gossamer curtains on four posters and princess pink sheets. “There’s a castle!” Avery shouts.

“You okay?” Steve asks again.

You’re a little tired from Dove's restlessness the night before, but you’re happy you’re here. You nod without thinking twice about it.

“Okay.” He pulls you toward him. Careful, he unsnaps the buckles of Dove’s harness, loosening the cords that keep her tight to your body before pulling her out. She grizzles at being moved, and he pats her back deftly to settle her before it becomes a big cry. Then he’s cradling her one handed, loosening the straps of the carrier behind your back and taking it off of you with a kindness that softens you for the thousandth time. “There, that’s better. You look like you can breathe again.”

Steve puts his hand flat on your chest and rubs a line with his thumb. “That’s a nice smile,” he adds.

Okay, you think. Goner, total goner, you cover his hand with yours. From the girls’ bedroom you can hear the squeal of bed springs being jumped on and the zipper on someone’s mini backpack. “Can we have fruit snacks?” Avery shouts.

Steve’s hand moves to your neck, your face. He rubs your jawline with the tip of his thumb. “Do they have fruit snacks at the buffet?”

“They promised they’d have everything at the buffet.”

You sound exuberant. You are. It’s nice to be touched sweetly, and to be somewhere cool. This is the life you’d dreamed of making with him, and at the same time, you never could’ve summoned this image of him.

You can’t wait for him to take his shirt off by the pool. You’re gonna take a whole disposable’s worth of photos.

“You have nice arms,” you say, feigning absentmindedness.

“Thank you.” He’s looking at you funny. It reminds you of when you first started dating, he’d get these weird moments of smiling and not telling you what it is that’s so funny, which would always inspire insecurity, but has since been explained to be awe rather than disdain. He pulls Dove closer to his neck and more toward his side, offering his empty arm to you for a hug. “You have nice everything,” he says, kissing you quickly on the temple.

“We’re actually on vacation.”

It always seemed too daunting. The more kids you had, the scarier it seemed. But one day Avery must’ve seen a commercial on TV or heard it from one of the little girls at the park, and she’d strolled up to you to ask you about vacations and the beach and aeroplanes. You’d taken her and Beth to Lake Michigan a bunch of times, but nothing feels quite like this.

“Let’s hope it really feels like one,” Steve says.

“Especially for you,” you say.

Stay at home dad-ing is exhausting. You can’t imagine he wants to be the one in charge here too. You’re determined to pull your weight, even if he isn’t keen to let you, plans for secret lie-ins and well-researched playtime clubs at the resorts recreation centres. You’re not delusional, you know you can’t do this without him. Or perhaps you could, but you’d enjoy yourself a lot less. Either way, you’re wanting to have fun too, so he can take Dove from you and wrap his arm around you like he’s the one in charge for now. It feels nice to be doted on, better when he starts his fretting.

“Do you want to get changed before we take them down for dinner?” He backs away enough to see your face but not too much as to steal the warmth of his chest where it kisses your arm. “Showers? You need something to drink. Where’s the mini fridge?”

“Remember what we talked about?” you broach carefully. You have no intentions of patronising him, but it’s unfortunate he’s forgotten already. “Relax, honey. That’s what we said we were gonna do this week. You don’t have to make sure everyone is one hundred percent all the time. If I need something, I’ll tell you.”

“What sort of marriage do you think this is?” he asks, smiling playfully, his warm eyes betraying how happy he is even through his worry and facade.

“One where you kiss me like you miss me all the time,” you say.

“Oh, is that so?” He ducks down and aligns your lips, the corded muscle of his arm lean where it presses to your softer back. “What do you do?”

“Kiss back.”

He laughs into your lips, a smile pressed firmly to a smile.

“Daddy, can you help me ‘i my shoes?” Bethie asks.

Steve breathes in deep as you part, hugging you tight to his side. “Where are you gonna go without shoes?” he asks her, genuinely curious.

“To bed.”

“You want a nap?”

Bethie nods tiredly. “Planes are hard.”

“Yeah, bub, planes are tough. You don’t wanna go have dinner first?”

She shakes her head tiredly. It’s the first hurdle of your vacation, but it’s not a terribly hard one to navigate.

“There’s gotta be some sort of snack in the fridge, right?” he asks.

Family nap time commences just as soon as Avery’s eaten her fill of mini sandwiches. You sleep like a baby under Steve’s arm, at least until the real baby rouses for another bottle.

437 notes · View notes

hamsterclaw · 4 months

Text

Humbug

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 1 - read the rest here.

Paediatrician Dr Jung Hoseok is beloved by all his patients and everyone he works with. Unfortunately, his cheerful demeanour is only a front, underneath it all, he's a humbug.

Pairing: Hoseok x f! reader

Genre: Paediatrician Hoseok, social worker reader, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, medical emergencies

Hoseok looks up from the computer screen at the sound of his name. His eyes take a moment to adjust, the screen’s the brightest light in the otherwise darkened paediatric ward.

The nurse, Jihyo, holds out a mug of coffee, just how he likes it.

Hoseok accepts gratefully, stares at the words on the side of the mug.

Big patience for little patients.

He blinks, indifferent, and goes back to prescribing.

His phone rings, muted because it’s 3am but he can hear it loud and clear.

He lifts it to his ear. ‘Dr Jung,’ he says by way of greeting.

‘You’re needed in the ER,’ comes the crisp tone of the ER charge nurse.

Hoseok sighs, doesn’t bother to ask why. ‘I’ll be there in 5.’

He hangs up, signs the chart and gulps the rest of his coffee, scorching his tongue and the roof of his mouth but preferring the burn to the desolate pang of his empty stomach.

The dry sandwich he’d bolted at 6pm the day before is nothing but a distant memory, churning its partially digested way through his intestines.

He takes a shortcut to the ER, cutting through the works alley between buildings.

Ironic that he has to pass the unofficial smoker’s alley to get fresh air.

Kim Namjoon, his friend and the resident cardiothoracics surgeon, nods and waves a vape pen at him in greeting.

Hoseok lifts a hand back, pushes the back entrance door open that someone’s propped open with a brick, hospital security be damned, re-enters the hospital next to the mortuary.

He glances askance at the double doors. It always makes him feel a little twitchy passing the morgue in the early hours of the morning.

He reminds himself he’s a grown adult as he picks up the pace, allows himself a little sigh of relief as he turns the corner and sees the bright lights of radiology.

He’s greeted by a cacophony of noises as he enters the ER, monitors beeping, people barking out instructions, distant sirens as ambulances pull up to the drop off.

He narrows his eyes against the fluorescent white strip lighting, looking around for the charge nurse’s familiar navy tunic.

He spots her by the resus bay, grimaces a bit at the carnage from a trauma that hasn’t been cleaned up.

‘Called for a paediatric consult?’

The charge nurse nods, brisk, waves an arm in the vague direction of the paediatric area.

‘15 year old, intoxicated.’

With that she’s off, and Hoseok trudges away.

The atmosphere in the paediatric area is less jarring, not so much because of the cheerful murals on the walls, but because it’s quieter, less hectic.

Hoseok assesses a teenager in a glittery jumpsuit who smells so strongly of alcohol and hairspray he reminds him of his own high school leaving prom.

He does an assessment, makes the mistake of asking the teen if he wants a drink on his way out of the exam room.

The teen chortles gleefully.

‘Yeah, gin and tonic, hold the tonic!’

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he exits.

He’s looking for a free computer to write up his notes when there’s movement in the periphery of his vision.

‘Need a computer?’ you ask.

Hoseok blinks to wake himself up. You’re way too pretty considering the early hour. Judging by your attire, more casual than smart, your carelessly styled hair, he makes an educated guess.

‘Are you with social services?’

‘Y/N, duty social worker,’ you confirm, nodding towards the exam room he’s just exited. ‘Jaebeom’s one of ours.’

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I’m Hoseok, paediatrics. I’m admitting him until he sobers up.’

You nod. ‘His foster carer can pick him up in the morning, she’s got another child that she needs to drop off at school.’

You look around, yawning delicately behind your hand. ‘Is there a place to get coffee around here at this time?’

There’s an on-call room waiting for him, a bed, but Hoseok doesn’t hesitate.

‘If you have five minutes for me to write up my notes, I can take you to the lounge?’

You give him a look he doesn’t bother to interpret, it’s now 4am and if you say no he can always go to bed.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Thanks.’

Hoseok types up his notes with you sitting in one of the empty chairs in the otherwise deserted paediatric department.

When he logs off he’s amused to find you engrossed in sorting shapes to slot into a sphere.

‘I can give you a few more minutes if you want,’ he says, dry.

You laugh. ‘I’ll be quicker once I’ve had caffeine.’

You follow him down the corridor towards the main hospital to the lounge.

Hoseok swipes his ID badge, pushes the door open.

You take in the ancient mismatched couches, the big screen TV, the tiny kitchenette with the top-of-the-line coffee machine, the chipped mugs drying next to the sink.

‘So this is how doctors roll, huh?’ you say.

Hoseok laughs. ‘Yeah baby, stick with me and I’ll show you a good time.’

He waggles his eyebrows, and you burst out laughing.

Hoseok’s struck by your smile and the way your eyes light up. He clears his throat, tells himself to stop staring at you like a creep.

‘Latte?’ he offers, picking up the nicest mug he can see.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say.

You’re fishing in your bag, emerging with a half-opened package of cookies.

He exchanges your coffee for a cookie, gestures to one of the couches.

He’s not expecting you to sit next to him, there’s plenty of space, but after a moment, you choose the seat beside him.

You sip your coffees in silence.

‘Been busy?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, a little,’ Hoseok replies.

Up close like this, he can see the tiny piercings in your ear, the gleam of gold through the fall of your hair.

Again, he pulls himself together with effort.

‘Have you been busy?’ he asks.

You stretch a little. ‘Yeah. We’re short-staffed, like always. Also something about the cold weather makes people be shits to each other.’

Hoseok’s not surprised. Winter’s always hard, fuck Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

‘I hear you,’ he says.

You sip your coffee, offer him another cookie which he accepts.

Your phone rings in your bag, you glance at him as you fish your phone out.

‘Duty calls,’ you say ruefully. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’

Hoseok’s about to bid you goodbye when you lean towards him, close, thumb brushing a corner of his mouth so quickly he barely registers it before you’re pulling your hand away.

‘Crumbs,’ you say. There’s the tiniest twinkle in your eye.

Hoseok’s voice comes out raspy as he says, ‘Thanks.’

‘See you around, doc.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, shouldering your bag, tossing him one last look on your way out.

Hoseok leans back against the couch, willing his heartrate to decelerate.

Outside, the darkest part of the night’s just about over.

***

Hoseok’s working hard to keep his bright smile on today.

He’s had a parent ask him if he has kids and then tell him he couldn’t possibly understand how precious their child is, as he doesn’t have children of his own.

He got an email from a conference he’s applied to saying due to the huge number of applicants, his abstract wasn’t selected for presentation.

His intern, Hyunjin, seems to be on a mission to aggravate him as much as possible.

‘We need a derm consult,’ Hyunjin tells him at the end of presenting the patient he’s just seen.

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, desperately summoning what remains of his rapidly dwindling stores of patience.

‘Why do we need a derm consult, Dr Park?’ he tries not to bark.

‘This patient has verrucas.’

Hoseok blinks, takes a breath.

‘This patient needs nebulised albuterol and oxygen and an admission to paediatrics. The verrucas can wait until he gets better and the mom can stop by a pharmacy for some over-the-counter verruca treatment.’

Hyunjin stares at him.

‘He’s satting in the low nineties,’ Hoseok points out, words coming out brisk, staccato. ‘I can hear him wheezing from here.’

The ER nurse behind Hyunjin’s already tutting and prepping the neb.

‘Was there anything else, Hyunjin?’ Hoseok asks, getting up, staring at the rapidly expanding list of patients waiting for a paediatric consult.

His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a sigh.

‘Dr Jung,’ he says.

‘Is that Hoseok?’

The voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t place it.

‘Depends who’s asking,’ he snaps.

‘It’s Y/N, the social worker. You got me coffee last week at 4am?’

Hoseok has a flash of a memory, of your hand on his face.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, running a hand through his hair, already sticking straight up in all directions, courtesy of the shitty haircut he got in the barbershop on his way in.

‘Rough day, huh?’ you say, the sympathy in your voice making warmth bloom in his chest.

‘Yeah.’

‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner after work today,’ you ask, no preamble, so direct Hoseok takes a moment to process.

‘I’d love to,’ he says. ‘I don’t get off until 8, though.’

‘I finish at 8 too,’ you say. ‘That works for me.’

You exchange numbers, and you promise to text him details.

‘Hope your day gets better, Dr Jung,’ you say, the teasing note in your voice making him smile, genuinely, for the first time, today.

‘It already is,’ he says.

He’s still smiling when he hangs up.

‘Hoseok,’ comes a voice from behind him.

Hoseok raises a brow inquiringly at Hyunjin, who, inexplicably, is still standing there.

‘About the verrucas,’ begins Hyunjin.

‘Nope,’ Hoseok says, pleasantly, still smiling.

He brushes past Hyunjin and picks up the next consult.

***

It’s ten to eight and thank fuck for that, because Hoseok’s had enough of today.

He’s getting changed out of the scrubs he was forced to change into after he was projectile vomited on by a chubby 10 month old, grateful he has spare clothes in his locker, when the door to the changing rooms opens.

Hoseok pauses, shirtless, hands on the tie of his scrubs bottoms.

Hyunjin blinks at him.

‘Nice abs, boss,’ he says.

Hoseok eyes both the fluffy white tee he was about to change into and the scrubs top he’s just discarded, questioning why he ever thought going into medicine was a good idea.

He grits his teeth.

‘Yes, Hyunjin?’

‘There’s a blue light call - breathless five year old, ETA 3 minutes.’

‘Jisoo is on tonight, let her know,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Also, close the door, damnit.’

Hyunjin looks surprised at the three medical students who have clustered behind him, all of whom are staring at Hoseok wide-eyed.

‘Jisoo’s going to be twenty minutes late, something about a train breakdown?’

Hyunjin’s got the wisdom to stay out of Hoseok’s reach.

Hoseok’s hand lands on his soft t-shirt, longingly.

With a sigh, he bypasses it and reaches for his scrubs top, pulling it over his head.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he says.

***

By the time Hoseok’s assessed the breathless patient and handed over to an apologetic Jisoo, the time on the clock on the wall says 9pm.

Hoseok pulls his phone out, dials your number.

You answer on the first ring.

Without waiting for him to say anything, you say, ‘The food’s still hot, I took the liberty of ordering for you. Are you on your way?’

Hoseok breathes out, a sigh of relief so profound he feels lightheaded.

‘Marry me,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

He gets dressed in record time, emerges out of the carnage of the ER like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You’re the first person he sees when he gets to the restaurant, and you’re the best thing he’s seen all day.

He greets you with a hug and a cheek kiss that you weren’t expecting, judging by the shy smile on your pretty face.

‘I —’ you start, then you stop, adorably flustered.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Hoseok says. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all day.’

‘I was just going to say I ordered tempura that’s on its way,’ you say.

‘I’m sorry I’m so late,’ Hoseok says. He’s got his hand on yours on the table without any memory of how it got there, but he likes the feel of it.

‘Make it up to me,’ you say, easy.

‘I’m going to do my best,’ he promises.

***

At least four people have seen Hoseok’s bare chest today, but you’re the only person he cares about impressing, at least right at this moment.

Because holy fuck, you’re beautiful, pressed tight to him on your poky couch, mouth on his, lips and teeth clashing as he kisses you over and over.

You’re making noises that are driving him slightly crazy, making him feel hot and desperate, and he has to stop himself from looking at your tits in that black bra or he’s going to embarrass himself.

Shit.

Your hand’s slid down, brushing over his dick, and he’s so hard already he has to will himself not to nut right now.

He tugs experimentally at the strap of your bra, and when you don’t protest he tugs it down, cups the weight of your left breast.

God, you feel so good. Soft, warm, exposed nipple begging to be kissed.

He runs his thumb over your areola, a slow pass.

The low moan you let out gives him the confidence to scrape the tip of his nail over the peak of your breast.

‘God, take it off, Hoseok,’ you tell him, and Hoseok’s sure as hell not going to make you ask twice.

He slides a hand around your bare back, unhooks your bra, can’t stop himself from looking.

His dick, already trying to stand at attention in its denim prison, twitches at the sight of your bared breasts.

Hoseok’s trying to remember what colour briefs he has on, if it’ll be obvious when he takes his jeans off that he’s leaking precum just from looking at your tits.

Then you cup the length of him over his jeans, and he finds he doesn’t give a fuck.

Your skirt’s ridden up, your thighs part under his hand encouragingly.

You’re so soft Hoseok can’t suppress a groan.

He hooks a couple fingers under the gusset of your panties, tugs, and your hand lands on his.

Hoseok looks up, hand stilling.

Hoseok’s been told that he has a gorgeous smile, but just at this moment, you’re the one who’s blinding him.

‘You can touch,’ you say, voice husky, teeth in your bottom lip.

‘Yeah?’ Hoseok asks, his own voice raspy, dropped low.

‘Yeah.’

‘Can I taste?’

You help him tug your panties down, over the curve of your ass that he can’t resist squeezing.

He tugs the flimsy cotton down your thighs, helps you slide a leg out.

He realises, belatedly, that you never answered his question, but you don’t seem to mind as he bends down, flicks his tongue against your pretty cunt.

Damn, you sound even prettier when he’s eating you out.

Hoseok licks into your folds, nudges your clit.

He doesn’t have any hangups about giving head, especially not in a girl like you who seems to enjoy everything he’s doing.

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, breathless, eyes squeezed shut.

He pushes a finger into you, curls it, and you cry out so loudly his cock hardens even more.

He tugs at the button fly of his jeans, loosening them for a little relief.

‘Please tell me you have a condom,’ you plead, voice thick, so sexy Hoseok can’t believe you’re under him like this.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come and I’ll fuck you?’

‘Fuck me now,’ you tell him.

Hoseok seals his lips around your clit, flicks his tongue, slips another finger into you, scissoring, pressing, slow, making every movement count.

‘Hoseok!’

He doesn’t reply, because he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you’re close.

He just needs another minute.

He doesn’t know if you’ve realised that your fingers are in his hair, pulling, but he’s taking it as a positive.

He keeps doing what he’s doing with his tongue, because you seem to like it.

Your cunt tightens around his fingers, you call his name again, buck your hips into his face, and Hoseok doesn’t even need you to tell him you’re coming because he can feel you pulsing, can hear it in your voice, can feel the way everything tightens as you reach your peak.

It’s the hottest thing he’s seen in a while.

Fuck.

Hoseok draws himself out of jeans, takes himself in hand, pumps once.

You haven’t forgotten him.

‘Get inside, Hoseok,’ you say, and as he fishes the condom out of his jeans you flip it out of his grasp and rip it with your teeth.

Hoseok closes his eyes as you squeeze the tip and roll it onto his dick, concentrating on not coming in your grasp.

You push him back onto the couch, get on top of him, and Hoseok could weep at the view.

Your hair’s a mess, your lips bitten and flushed, and goddamn, your tits need to be in a museum.

He doesn’t realise he’s said that last bit out loud until you burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you tell him, but you’re still riding him so there’s that.

Hoseok grabs your hips, helps you move even though you’re doing a pretty damn good job already.

‘You like this, Hoseok?’ you ask.

Hoseok flexes his cock inside you. ‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘I like it too.’

‘Yeah?’

You lean forward, tits bouncing in front of his face, and Hoseok thinks that if he died right now, smothered in between your breasts, he wouldn’t mind one bit.

‘Go on, baby, take what you want,’ you say.

Hoseok bucks his hips hard, up into the wet warmth of your cunt, tugs your head down to kiss you deep, open-mouthed, and comes with a groan, deep in his chest.

Bliss.

***

Hoseok wakes in a bed he doesn’t remember getting into, a bedroom that he finds soothing, with its neutral colours and soft sunlight filtering in the crack between the curtains.

There’s an arm flung across his chest, the soft curve of a breast against his chest.

You’re turned away, boneless, in a deep sleep.

His incorrigible cock stirs as he takes in the line of your back, down to the tempting curve of your ass.

He spots the clock on the wall, groans when he realises he should really be up now if he wants to get to work on time.

You’re still dead asleep even after he’s fully dressed, splayed out in the sheets, gloriously naked.

Hoseok pulls the duvet over your bare shoulder, resists the urge to kiss your upturned cheek, and makes sure the door’s locked behind him as he leaves.

***

Hoseok tightens his scarf around his neck as he waits for you at the entrance to the Christmas market you’ve managed to convince him to accompany you to.

The fact is, he hates the cold, he thinks all Christmas markets are gimmicky and overpriced, and after a run of incredibly busy shifts, he’d much rather be in bed with you right now than here.

Hoseok sidesteps neatly as he’s approached by a jovial couple dressed as Father Christmas and Mrs Klaus.

He’s about to pull his phone out to check on you when you hurry up to him, tuck your arm in his.

‘Hobi! You weren’t waiting long, were you?’

Hoseok looks at your bright smile and can’t bring himself to say anything other than ‘no, not long.’

Your lips are cold, but the kiss you plant on his cheek, next to his mouth, goes a long way towards improving his mood.

He doesn’t even give the three elves handing out tiny candy canes a dirty look.

‘Crepes?’ you suggest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the longest queue is in front of the crepe stand.

‘Sure,’ Hoseok agrees.

You get in line and immediately turn to him, sliding your arms around his waist, under his coat.

‘How’ve you been?’ you ask.

Hoseok and you have met up a couple times over the last three weeks, enough that he’s left a spare shirt and some toiletries at your place.

You’re sweet, and fun, and he hopes you like him as much as he’s starting to like you.

‘I’m better now,’ he says, just so he can admire the glow of your smile.

‘You’re cheesy,’ you say, but the brightness in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

‘Nah,’ Hoseok replies. ‘You dragged us to this Christmas market, I know you’ve got your eye on one of those tacky reindeer tree ornaments, you don’t get to call me cheesy.’

‘I like the blue one,’ you say, conceding so easily Hoseok has to smile.

‘Wait here, I’ll go and get it,’ he says.

‘What crepe do you want?’ you ask, as he pulls away.

‘Surprise me,’ he tells you.

Hoseok walks over to the ornament stall you’ve been eyeing for the past five minutes, picks out the blue ornament, hesitates over the collection of tiny gold Christmas bauble earrings.

He makes a decision, pays, shoves his purchases into his coat pocket and walks back to you.

You hold a crepe out to him, and he accepts with a ‘thanks’, taking the warm paper-wrapped bundle out of your hand and taking a bite.

The warm melted chocolate floods his taste buds, and he tries not to moan at the gooey sweetness of it.

‘Good, right?’ you ask. ‘Worth the wait.’

You’re not waiting for an answer, skipping ahead, heading for the chestnuts and hot chocolate like you’re a walking Christmas cliche.

Hoseok follows behind you. He finds he doesn’t really mind.

***

You stick your key in the lock, unlock the door to your apartment, don’t bother with the lights before you turn around and slide your hands up Hoseok’s chest, fingers tucked under the lapels of his coat.

Hoseok doesn’t have a lot to say, not when you’re looking up at him, lips pouted for a kiss.

He slips a hand around the back of your neck, cupping your head, and tilts his head down to yours.

‘Mmmm,’ you murmur. ‘You taste like chocolate.’

Hoseok leans down again, kisses you deep, tongue sliding into your mouth.

‘It’s cold,’ he says. ‘Warm me up.’

He’s only half-serious, having you pressed against him like this is doing a hell of a job of warming him up.

The wicked gleam in your eye gets him the rest of the way.

‘Come on. Want to take a bath?’ you ask.

Hoseok makes out with you in front of the mirror in your bathroom whilst the tub fills, is a short second away from guiding his cock between your legs when you pull away, bend over in front of him to test the temperature.

‘Get in,’ you say, and Hoseok’s always been good at following instructions.

He slides into the warm heat of the bath, groans at the feel of it, reaches out to steady you as you climb in on top of him, right into his lap, impatient like he feels.

You look so good bare and wet like this, the steam making tendrils of your hair curl against your neck, the tops of your breasts visible above the water line. Hoseok hadn’t thought he could get any harder but he does.

‘Sit on me,’ he says, and there’s a slosh of water, wet skin against wet skin, and then the slippery warmth of your cunt, taking him in.

The tips of your breasts jiggle in front of him as you move, and between the tightness of your walls around him and the prettiness of your moans, Hoseok’s in heaven.

He slips a hand around your hips, helping you ride him, and curls his hand around your breast, lifting it out of the water so he can suck.

You cry his name as he flicks his tongue over your nipple, and Hoseok squeezes the flesh of your hip, tight, under the water.

Your rhythm’s erratic but it’s making the pleasure build, short, tight circles of your hips against his.

‘Hoseok,’ you moan.

‘Yeah?’ he mumbles, lips around the peak of your breast.

He flexes his cock inside you, hums in satisfaction at the way your face goes slack, eyes half closed.

Shit, you look so pretty in the throes of pleasure.

Hoseok slides a hand up, fingers curling around your neck, thumb pressed into the hollow between your collarbones.

Your voice is hoarse now, raspy like his, as he urges, ‘Go on, take it.’

He presses down, you gasp, and lose your rhythm entirely as you come around his cock, walls spasming around him.

Hoseok takes over, fucking you through it, hardening until he comes with a low grunt.

Wet, slick, warm.

You’re tired, he can tell, the way you’re slumping against his chest.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll wash us off.’

He coaxes you into your shower with him, soaps over the marks he’s made on your skin, wraps you into a towel.

By the time you’re both in bed, you’re more asleep than awake.

‘Work tomorrow?’ you ask.

‘I’m working,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘Want me to set an alarm for you?’

He doesn’t get an answer, you’re asleep on his chest already.

He should get up, switch some lights off, but a moment later, he’s asleep too.

***

Hoseok never thought he’d see the day he would want Hyunjin to be around, but he’s getting slammed, and the way things are looking, he needs all hands on deck.

He’s jogging down the corridor to his second emergency call for the day despite it being only 10am. It’s busy even for the holidays.

‘House fire,’ barks Mira, the ER charge nurse as Hoseok snaps on gloves. ‘Three children, five minutes out.’

‘How bad?’ asks Hoseok, prepping an IV access kit.

‘PICU are aware, they’re sending backup when they can but they’ve got their own internal collapse, they’re dealing with an arrest on the neurosurgical ward,’ Mira replies.

The doors slide open, and Hoseok can already tell from the looks on the paramedics’ faces that it’s not looking good.

Fucking hell, where’s Hyunjin, what a day to be in resus training instead of on the floor.

The second patient’s wheeled in as the first is still being parked, and Hoseok’s surprised to see you accompanying them, covered in soot, but he doesn’t have time to process now.

All he can do is deal with what’s in front of him, so that’s what he does.

***

It’s well into the afternoon by the time all three patients are stabilised and wheeled up to the PICU.

Hoseok’s washing his hands mechanically in one of the resus sinks, buying his brain some time to come down from the adrenaline of the last few hours, when he hears his name called.

‘Hey,’ you say, holding out a cup to him.

Hoseok takes a big gulp of the steaming hot coffee. There’s sugar in it, he doesn’t usually have sugar in his coffee, but today it goes down smooth, giving him a much-needed glucose boost.

He drinks most of it before he can muster a ‘Thanks.’

You don’t seem to be in a hurry.

You’ve cleaned most of the soot off your face, but your top is ruined.

Belatedly, Hoseok notices a plaster on your arm, remembers that you came in with the ambulance crew and the three kids.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

‘I’m fine,’ you say. ‘I was just outside the house when the gas oven imploded. I saw the kids in the window and got them out.’

Hoseok blinks. He hadn’t been expecting that.

‘You ran into a burning house?’

You frown a bit. ‘It wasn’t burning then, there was just smoke everywhere.’

You cough, and he notices that your voice is a little hoarse.

‘Besides, I was right there and I saw the kids, I couldn’t leave them.’

‘Shit,’ Hoseok says. He pulls you into a hug. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ you ask, resting your head on his chest.

‘I hope so,’ Hoseok says.

He pulls away. ‘Did they check your carbon monoxide levels?’

You laugh, and the tension in his chest eases a little. ‘Yes, doc, I’ve been cleared for discharge.’

You grab his hand, squeeze. ‘I’m probably doing better than you right now.’

‘This is why I hate Christmas,’ Hoseok blurts out.

You’re looking at him, but you don’t say anything, and he can’t stop anyway.

‘Everyone goes on about Christmas and goodwill and people helping each other and yet the same shit happens as the rest of the year. It means nothing, just a commercial holiday that big companies use to make money out of dumb people.’

‘It’s bullshit,’ Hoseok says.

‘My parents feel the same as you,’ you say. You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘They never celebrated the holidays.’

‘They had the right idea,’ Hoseok agrees.

‘When do you get off today?’ you ask. ‘I can make us dinner, if you want.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be good company,’ Hoseok says, honestly.

‘You’re welcome, even if you’re the biggest grinch in the world,’ you say, with a sweetness that makes warmth bloom in his chest.

‘I’m not a grinch,’ he says, half-heartedly.

‘A humbug, then,’ you say.

You reach out and touch his cheek.

‘Come over, later, if you want.’

***

Hoseok finds himself outside your apartment after his shift, wondering if you really wanted him to come over.

You don’t keep him waiting long, soon enough you’re opening the door, handing him a glass of wine, putting food in front of him.

Hoseok hasn’t even so much as showered, he came straight from work.

You notice him looking at the half-decorated Christmas tree you’ve got in your lounge, the open box of ornaments next to it.

‘I like Christmas,’ you say. ‘I thought I’d cheer myself up by putting up a tree.’

You seem to be worried about his reaction, so Hoseok grasps your hand.

‘Just because I’m a grinch doesn’t mean you have to be,’ he says.

You smile. ‘My parents never had a tree and I always wanted one.’

The food and the wine are going a long way towards making Hoseok feel normal again after his day.

‘Are you going to see them for Christmas?’ he asks.

There’s a brief shadow across your face, so quick he isn’t sure if he saw it.

‘They’re doing relief work in South Sudan,’ you say. ‘They’re doctors too.’

You ask, ‘Are you away for Christmas?’

‘Yeah, my parents and sister are upstate. I’ll drive up to them.’

‘Are they grinches like you are?’ you ask, teasing.

Hoseok laughs. ‘I’m the only grinch in the family. My mother goes all out, and my sister loves Christmas too.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ you say, a hint of wistfulness in your tone.

Your top’s slipped down over your shoulder, and between the way your skin gleams and the way your lips are stained from the wine, you’re so pretty Hoseok’s distracted.

He reaches out, tugging you into his arms.

‘Can I take a shower?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ you say. The mischievous twinkle is back in your eyes now. ‘Want company?’

‘Always,’ Hoseok says.

***

For once, you’re up before him the next morning.

He must have been more tired than he realised.

You’re fastening your bra in a feat of dexterity he’s always admired.

‘Shame I missed the show,’ he says, his voice raspy in the darkness of your bedroom.

‘Happens every morning,’ you say. ‘You’ve got an invite every time.’

Hoseok laughs, rolls over, sheet around his waist.

‘What time is it?’ he asks, propping his arm behind his head, looking out the crack in the window as the snow falling outside.

‘It’s 6am on Christmas eve,’ you tell him.

‘Shit, I gotta pack for tonight,’ he says.

You pull a sweater on over a tee, sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.

‘I probably won’t see you until after the holidays, huh?’

‘I’m back in a couple days,’ Hoseok says, hand on the small of your back where your sweater’s ridden up.

‘Yeah. Merry Christmas, Hobi. Eat all the turkey for me.’

‘I don’t even like turkey,’ he says, honestly.

You laugh, amused, and cup his cheek. ‘See you after Christmas, grinch. There’s coffee in the kitchen.’

Your goodbye kiss makes him want to pull you back into bed with him.

***

Hoseok pulls up outside his parents’ house, rubs the back of his neck, trying to get the crick out.

He can see the living room and kitchen lights are on, and he already knows that when he opens the front door and steps in he’ll be greeted with familiar smells.

Cinnamon. Fresh bread. The chicken dish his eomma always makes the night before Christmas.

He realises with a start that he never thought to ask you what you’d be doing for Christmas.

He’d spent an hour finishing decorating your tree after you left your apartment, so that you’d have a fully-decked out tree when you came back from work today, and had only belatedly realised that perhaps you’d have had fun decorating the tree together.

He’d put the earrings he got you under the tree, hung the gloriously tacky blue ornament he’d picked up for you at the Christmas market.

He’d packed the red lace panties you’d tossed merrily in his face when you’d stripped for him the night before, in the shower.

Shit, maybe that was a creep thing to do.

Too late now.

The front door opens, and his sister stands in the doorway.

‘Come on, what’s taking you so long,’ she asks.

‘Coming,’ Hoseok says.

He grabs his bag out the trunk and goes inside.

***

Hoseok wonders if he’s even in the right place.

You’d once told him, offhand, that you often volunteer at the shelter close to your apartment on Christmas day, and when he’d gone to your apartment and you weren’t in, he’d driven here.

It’s a women’s shelter, and he’s trying to make himself look as harmless as possible as he waits to be let in.

A woman dressed in a light-up jumper opens the door, eyes him suspiciously.

Hoseok has a sudden feeling that he’s made a terrible mistake.

It’s too late now.

‘I’m Hoseok, I’m a friend of Y/N’s. Is she here?’ he asks

To his relief, the woman’s face transforms into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘You’re the doctor friend she keeps telling us about! Come in, she’s here.’

The woman grasps him by the arm, pulls him in out of the snow.

‘She’s helping in the kitchen, you can help too, if you want.’

‘Sure,’ Hoseok says. Her grip on his arm is strong, there’s no way he’s going to say no.

He’s led to an industrial looking kitchen, dated but clean, greeted by the sounds of chatter and Christmas classics.

There’s mess everywhere, like Santa exploded, but all that falls away when he sees you.

You look up, spot him, and the smile on your face makes him smile too. He probably looks like an idiot, here grinning at you, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

You get up, and then somehow you’re in his arms, the reindeer headband you have on poking him in the jaw but he’s still not bothered.

There’s heckling, teasing, whooping, but all he sees and hears is you.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe.

He likes it.

‘I forgot to wish you Merry Christmas,’ he says.

‘Merry Christmas, humbug.’

Hoseok wants to argue that he’s not a humbug, not really, but you’re kissing him, so he shuts up and kisses you back instead.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok fanfic #bangtan christmas 2023 #bangtan christmas #bts fic #bts smut #jhope fic #jhope smut

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humansofnewyork · 1 year

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“He’s a dangerous man. In December he came to visit. At the airport he opens the door of the Uber, and it hits another car. The driver starts screaming: ‘You broke my car!’ I pull the guy aside, and I tell him: ‘Please, not this man. Not this man.’ This man doesn’t care about nothing in this world. All that matters is his family. If my mother is happy, his kids are happy, fuck the rest of the world. When I was young he opened a restaurant in Genoa. He bought it for cheap; it used to be a Chinese restaurant. There was a giant dragon on the wall. He couldn’t afford to renovate. So he just left the mural on the wall, and named his restaurant The Dragon. After one year the restaurant failed, so he went to work on a cruise line. Every birthday, every Christmas, he was away from us. But blood is blood. The loyalty was always there. I took from him a lot of things. I never cry in my life. I solve every problem, every stuff, every bullshit. One year we have a soccer tournament in our town, for Italy’s accounting companies. My friend works at one of the biggest, and he tells me: we need a goalkeeper. So they give me paperwork for this fake internship. I show up covered in tattoos. We win every game. And after the tournament they give me a job for real. You have to take seven exams to get this job. Me? I do nothing. But the bosses know I have strong character, so they hire me. Now I am best in my company. Now I’m in America. I’d never left Italy in my life, not even on holiday. But I’m here. And I make a lot of money. A lot. The dragon is a promise. When I go back home, I’m going to buy back the restaurant. It won’t make money; but I don’t care. I only care that its ours.”

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solarpunkani · 4 months

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okay so pardon me as I wax poetic late at night about solarpunk again but like

and once again, I'm biased because I'm co-hosting the aesthetic week event, you know the drill, but

I feel like sharing our projects--big and small--are so important because they can inspire other people to do their own. And obviously this can be about sharing news about climate action, and scientific projects and progress and discoveries, but tonight I'm thinking about crocheting.

As we think about the future we want to create as solarpunks, we trade ideas. And oftentimes a lot of the ideas we trade are about futures with barter systems, where many many people do crafts like sewing and mending and knitting and the like. But--and I could easily be the only one but I feel like I'm not--I personally was too nervous to start many crafts myself. Because I didn't know what I'd do with the craft, if I was even capable of it, or if it was too big and complex for me. I'd been tossing around the idea of learning how to crochet for years, and my mom's been tossing the idea around just as long if not even longer for herself, but y'know what brought me over? You know what finally got me to give it a shot?

An online Solarpunk friend sharing pictures of a bag.

I saw that bag and I went 'huh maybe I could do something like that,' and within a few days I'd bought a bunch of yarns and hooks and was on a call (with a different online friend) learning how to do some basic stitches and knots to get started. By the end of the night, I was teaching myself how to make granny squares, with the help of a (different) online friend writing instructions to help me out as I got stuck.

And maybe I finish my bag, or my scarf, and I post a picture online--not even a professional, pinterest-ready photo, just a quick pic of it laid across my bed or something--and I inspire someone else to start crocheting. Hell, I've already inspired my mom to take a crack at it once the Christmas season is over.

But it doesn't even have to be me. It doesn't even have to be crocheting. Maybe someone posts a picture of a hat they just finished knitting, and someone else decides to pick up a loom or some knitting needles. Maybe someone crafts a birdhouse or a desk or a bench out of wood, and someone picks up a hammer for the first time. Maybe someone crafts something awesome out of clay and wire, and someone gets inspired for a new project. It can even be across artforms! Maybe someone sews an awesome dress, and someone else is inspired to write a short story by it. Maybe someone writes a short story, and someone else goes to paint a mural somewhere inspired by a scene in that story.

And in a sense I find it incredibly solarpunk. To inspire one another to learn and grow, develop new skills, to always find inspiration and hope to keep trying new stuff.

Some people laugh and scoff at the idea of posting ~aesthetique~ homemade clothes to the solarpunk tag, a handful think the whole aesthetic week event is pointless, but I find it the opposite. Solarpunk is about revolution, but it can't always be big revolutions. Sometimes its the small revolution of picking up a craft that changes your life, or creating an image that inspires others to fight for a better future. It can be about writing something that makes others question why things are the way they are, when they can be better. Sometimes the desire for a nice knit scarf can be the start of a mini barter system, or become part of the mutual aid we all dream of.

I feel like I had a point with this but I forgot. But uhm... yeah.

#out of queue #ani rambles #solarpunk #im probably not gonna put this in the aes week tag but yknow #anyways im gonna go work on this scarf while watching a video essay and maybe chill to the aes week playlist

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invisibleicewands · 3 months

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Michael Sheen: Prince Andrew, Port Talbot and why I quit Hollywood

When Michael Sheen had an idea for a dystopian TV series based in his home town of Port Talbot, in which riots erupt when the steel works close, he had no idea said works would actually close — a month before the show came to air. “Devastating,” he says, simply, of last month’s decision by Tata Steel to shut the plant’s two blast furnaces and put 2,800 jobs at risk.

“Those furnaces are part of our psyche,” he says. “When the Queen died we talked about how psychologically massive it was for the country because people couldn’t imagine life without her. The steel works are like that for Port Talbot.”

Sheen’s show — The Way — was never meant to be this serious. The BBC1 three-parter is directed by Sheen, was written by James Graham and has the montage king Adam Curtis on board as an executive producer. The plot revolves around a family who, when the steel works are closed by foreign investors, galvanise the town into a revolt that leads to the Welsh border being shut. Polemical, yes, but it has a lightness of touch. “A mix of sitcom and war film,” Sheen says, beaming.

But that was then. Now it has become the most febrile TV show since, well, Mr Bates vs the Post Office. “We wanted to get this out quickly,” Sheen says. With heavy surveillance, police clamping down on protesters and nods to Westminster abandoning parts of the country, the series could be thought of as a tad political. “The concern was if it was too close to an election the BBC would get nervous.”

I meet Sheen in London, where he is ensconced in the National Theatre rehearsing for his forthcoming starring role in Nye, a “fantasia” play based on the life of the NHS founder, Labour’s Aneurin “Nye” Bevan. He is dressed down, with stubble and messy hair, and is a terrific raconteur, with a lot to discuss. As well as The Way and Nye, this year the actor will also transform himself into Prince Andrew for a BBC adaptation of the Emily Maitlis Newsnight interview.

Sheen has played a rum bunch, from David Frost to Tony Blair and Chris Tarrant. And we will get to Bevan and Andrew, but first Wales, where Sheen, 55, was born in 1969 and, after a stint in Los Angeles, returned to a few years ago. He has settled outside Port Talbot with his partner, Anna Lundberg, a 30-year-old actress, and their two children. Sheen’s parents still live in the area, so the move was partly for family, but mostly to be a figurehead. The actor has been investing in local arts, charities and more, putting his money where his mouth is to such an extent that there is a mural of his face up on Forge Road.

“It’s home,” Sheen says, shrugging, when I ask why he abandoned his A-list life for southwest Wales. “I feel a deep connection to it.” The seed was sown in 2011 when he played Jesus in Port Talbot in an epic three-day staging of the Passion, starring many locals who were struggling with job cuts and the rising cost of living in their town. “Once you become aware of difficulties in the area you come from you don’t have to do anything,” he says, with a wry smile. “You can live somewhere else, visit family at Christmas and turn a blind eye to injustice. It doesn’t make you a bad person, but I’d seen something I couldn’t unsee. I had to apply myself, and I might not have the impact I’d like, but the one thing that I can say is that I’m doing stuff. I know I am — I’m paying for it!”

The Way is his latest idea to boost the area. The show, which was shot in Port Talbot last year, employed residents in front of and behind the camera. The extras in a scene in which fictional steel workers discuss possible strike action came from the works themselves. How strange they will feel watching it now. The director shakes his head. “It felt very present and crackling.”

One line in the show feels especially crucial: “The British don’t revolt, they grumble.” How revolutionary does Sheen think Britain is? “It happens in flare-ups,” he reasons. “You could say Brexit was a form of it and there is something in us that is frustrated and wants to vent. But these flare-ups get cracked down, so the idea of properly organised revolution is hard to imagine. Yet the more anger there is, the more fear about the cost of living crisis. Well, something’s got to give.”

I mention the Brecon Beacons. “Ah, yes, Bannau Brycheiniog,” Sheen says with a flourish. Last year he spearheaded the celebration of the renaming of the national park to Welsh, which led some to ponder whether Sheen might go further in the name of Welsh nationalism. Owen Williams, a member of the independence campaigners YesCymru, described him to me as “Nye Bevan via Che Guevara” and added that the actor might one day be head of state in an independent Wales.

Sheen bursts out laughing. “Right!” he booms. “Well, for a long time [the head of state] was either me or Huw Edwards, so I suppose that’s changed.” He laughs again. “Gosh. I don’t know what to say.” Has he, though, become a sort of icon for an independent Wales? “I’ve never actually spoken about independence,” he says. “The only thing I’ve said is that it’s worth a conversation. Talking about independence is a catalyst for other issues that need to be talked about. Shutting that conversation down is of no value at all. People say Wales couldn’t survive economically. Well, why not? And is that good? Is that a good reason to stay in the union?”

On a roll, he talks about how you can’t travel from north to south Wales by train without going into England because the rail network was set up to move stuff out of Wales, not round it. He mentions the collapse of local journalism and funding cuts to National Theatre Wales, and says these are the conversations he wants to have — but where in Wales are they taking place?

So, for Sheen, the discussion is about thinking of Wales as independent in identity, not necessarily as an independent state? “As a living entity,” he says, is how he wants people to think about his country. “It’s much more, for me, about exploring what that cultural identity of now is, rather than it being all about the past,” he says. “We had a great rugby team in the 1970s, but it’s not the 1970s anymore and, yes, male-voice choirs make us cry, but there are few left. Mines aren’t there either. All the things that are part of the cultural identity of Wales are to do with the past and, for me, it’s much more about exploring what is alive about Welsh identity now.”

You could easily forget that Sheen is an actor. He calls himself a “not for profit” thesp, meaning he funds social projects, from addiction to disability sports. “I juggle things more,” he says. “Also I have young kids again and I don’t want to be away much.”

Sheen has an empathetic face, a knack of making the difficult feel personable. And there are two big roles incoming — a relief to fans.

Which leads us to Prince Andrew. “Of course it does.” This year he plays the troubled duke in A Very Royal Scandal — a retelling of the Emily Maitlis fiasco with Ruth Wilson as the interviewer. Does the show go to Pizza Express in Woking? “No,” Sheen says, grinning. Why play the prince? He thinks about this a lot. “Inevitably you bring humanity to a character — that’s certainly what I try to do.” He pauses. “I don’t want people to say, ‘It was Sheen who got everybody behind Andrew again.’ But I also don’t want to do a hatchet job.”

So what is he trying to do? “Well, it is a story about privilege really,” he says. “And how easy it is for privilege to exploit. We’ve found a way of keeping the ambiguity, because, legally, you can’t show stuff that you cannot prove, but whether guilty or not, his privilege is a major factor in whatever exploitation was going on. Beyond the specifics of Andrew and Epstein, no matter who you are, privilege has the potential to exploit someone. For Andrew, it’s: ‘This girl is being brought to me and I don’t really care where she comes from, or how old she is, this is just what happens for people like me.’”

It must have been odd having the prince and Bevan — the worst and best of our ruling classes — in his head at the same time. What, if anything, links the men? “What is power and what can you do with it?” Sheen muses, which seems to speak to his position in Port Talbot too. Nye at the National portrays the Welsh politician on his deathbed, in an NHS hospital, moving through his memories while doped up on meds. Sheen wants the audience to think: “Is there a Bevan in politics now and, if not, why not?”

Which takes us back to The Way. At the start one rioter yells about wanting to “change everything” — he means politically, sociologically. However, assuming that changing everything is not possible, what is the one thing Sheen would change? “Something practical? Not ‘I want world peace’. I would create a people’s chamber as another branch of government — like the Lords, there’d be a House of People, representing their community. Our political system has become restrictive and nonrepresentational, so something to open that up would be good.”

The actor is a thousand miles from his old Hollywood life. “It’d take a lot for me to work in America again — my life is elsewhere.” It is in Port Talbot instead. “The last man on the battlefield” is how one MP describes the steel works in The Way, and Sheen is unsure what happens when that last man goes. “Some people say it’s to do with net zero aims,” he says about the closure. “Others blame Brexit. But, ultimately, the people of Port Talbot have been let down — and there is no easy answer about what comes next.”

#Michael Sheen #Times #Interview #Nye #The Way #A Very Royal Scandal

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watchinghallmark · 5 months

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#our christmas mural #alex paxton beesley #dan jeannotte #hallmarkedit

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hallmark-movie-fanatics · 5 months

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Our Christmas Mural - photo preview

#our christmas mural #countdown to christmas #merry thanksgiving weekend #hallmark channel #photo preview #dan jeannotte #alex paxton beesley #hallmark movies

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tropesofhallmark · 5 months

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More Quick reactions:

Our Christmas Mural: Started off rough, but got better. Dan Jeannotte has NO RIGHT to be so cute!! None, I tell you. Loved the interactions with Will and Parker.

To All A Good Night: Kim Sustad knocked it out of the park and took me on a rollercoaster of an emotional ride. Fantastic story and acting. Loved the kleptomaniac dog as the comic relief. I need to see Mark in more Hallmark movies! He was great. Chemistry was awesome.

Magic In Mistletoe: Started off great, then turned slow and uneven. The leads were great, but the story just needed something else to make it more interesting. 10/10 wardrobe, so props to the costume designer.

#hallmark movies #our christmas mural #to all a good night #magic in mistletoe

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kagecage · 4 months

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hi there! i hope you’re having a good day and merry christmas from 🇦🇺 if you celebrate it! i have a little idea that’s been on the top of my head recently and i just need to get it out into the world (this may be a request, or just a thought) but i have been thinking. imagine a ninjago au where it’s thief/tagger (graffiti artist) reader x the ninjas.. like it could be like a specific ninja but i was thinking more smth like this (picture it)

you’re out doing your usual criminal activities and you and the ninja squad have been rivalling forever, and suddenly you get caught off guard in an alleyway where one of them appear outta no where and ambushes you, so they tease and banter for a hot second with you before you land a hit on them and run off.. but then another appears, cocking their head at you.. then they all start just dropping in onto the hoods of abandoned rusty cars and like old crates and stuff, or like behind you and #jawontheground

anyways, there’s no specific genre to that just needed to get this out of my mind 😢 if you could turn it into like a one shot i would be 😱honoured😱 but it’s just a thought ^^

AHHHHH OMG I LOVE THIS SCENARIO MERRY CHRISTMAS ML 🫶🫶 i hope everyone is having an amazing Christmas eve or day!! Now, enjoy!!

ALLEYWAY ART GONE WRONG

Bobbing my hand up and down, shaking the spray can in my hand, i brought up the messy can and sprayed up on the wall, moving it slowly, leaving a dripping effect as the paint slides off the wall. Headphones to a full volume as i hummed along the tunes.

From morning till dawn, my mural was finally finished. I climbed down the rustic ladder and stepped back a few feet to see the masterpiece in front of me. I grinned in success as i laid my eyes upon my art.

Grabbing my bag, i stuffed the rest of the cans into the leather bag and threw it up my shoulder. I crouched down to a periwinkle purse and rummaged through it, the purse had a few dirt and soot on the cover, since it was recently stolen by me.

Finding a lighter and some cigars in the bag, i stuffed the said items into my pocket as i spotted a wallet, reaching my hand out to grab it, i heard some strange noises. Seeming it was some clanging metal. Whipping my head to the right, i spotted no trace of people.

I took my headphones off, being wary of my surroundings. I stood upright and eyed the area where the sound came from, before i knew it i was pinned to the wall aggressively.

Squirming against the strangers grip, they tightened their arms and pressed on my back. I was faced to the wall with my hands behind my back. Groaning and grunting as i tried to pry out of the hard grasp, the stranger started to chuckle from behind me.

“As expected, i knew you were here.” The voice spoke out as he whispered into my ear. I recognized the voice as the earth ninja, Cole brookstone. His hot breath against my ear sent shivers down my spine. He turned me around to face him, my back against the wall with his arms beside me and a knee between my thighs.

“Theres no way to get out of this one, you were a hard catch you know that?” I laid my eyes upon his dark brown ones, i felt his finger tracing my jawline as he chuckled. He moved his arms and started to propel on his elbows against the wall. Our face a mere inch away.

I moved my hand upward, clenching into a fist as i punched his chin from beneath, his teeth hitting each other as he grunted in pain, releasing me from his arms. I lifted myself from the wall and watched as he crouched down while holding his jaw, before he could muster up a word i held the back of his head, feeling his soft jet black hair with a tug.

Pushing his head to the hard surface, his face was met with the wall he was originally on before. His knees against the cold concrete floor while his face was against the brick wall, his hands behind his back with my foot on his wrists tightly.

I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards as i felt a smirk forming on my face, i bent down to his ear, my hand still in his hair and my left foot on his hands against his back. My breath on his ear.

“As much as i love to be put in handcuffs, i dont like the police kind” i whispered and pickpocketed his gi. Throwing his head onto the floor, i darted away from the black ninja, only to realize a dead end, by another one of the ninjas.

Kai jiang smith, the fire ninja, also known as the red ninja. My eyes laid upon his figure as we were about 5 meters away from each other. Backing up and turning away from the said ninja, i was faced with a female with a pool of water in her hands. Knowing it was Nya i groaned and heard a few metal clanging from all around me. Looking around, my eyes were met with the rest of the ninjas on top of garbage bins and old rusted metal of car pieces.

I chuckled and turned my body towards the so called leader who was glaring behind me. “You really had to bring the whole skittles pack, didn’t you Lloyd?” I brought my hand against my hip, watching the Green ninja from afar. “It’s about time you trapped me, although i was having fun with the other ninja” I used my thumb and pointed to the direction of Cole, who was now standing a few meters away from me with some crimson red liquid flowing down his nose.

Lloyd started to get into a fighting stance with his hands glowing green. “Well the fun just started.” He spoke out with a rough voice. Sprinting towards me, he jumped upwards and brought his hand back for a punch, quickly dodging to the right, his fist was met against the floor, leaving a crack in the cement. Feeling a hot temperature behind me, i whipped my head and turned my body just in time, moving away from a fireball from behind me.

“6 verses 1 i see? Kind of unfair dont you think?” Kai and Lloyd was in the air with the intentions of pouncing me, slipping my legs into a split, my thighs and legs were met with the ground, moving my torso to kiss the floor, Kai and Lloyd accidentally attacked each other as they muster apologies.

Lifting my body into a hand stand, i moved my hands and twisted my body into a circular movement, kicking Jay who was dashing towards me.

At the same time he was kicked, he sent lightning at my chest as i grunted in pain, clutching my chest i was quickly met face first to the ground, my hands on my back with a strong grip in my hair.

“And thats payback.” Cole responded as he nodded towards Zane, feeling a cold sensation against my hands, i assumed he was freezing my hands shut. I squinted and groaned as i tried to wiggle my way out of his hold, that led to cole tightening his grip on my hair and pushing my head into the ground.

I bent my knees and started to kick cole, currently my feet were in the air, kicking left and right, Jay then grabbed on of my feet while Nya grabbed ahold of the other. Bringing them together as Zane also freezed my ankles together.

Bringing me to my knees as i was sat upright, “what should we do with her now that we captured her?” Nya asked to the colourful group infront of me. Puffing away a strand of hair in my face i glared at everyone as they were in a small circle, deciding what to do with me.

Kai stayed behind and watched me on the ground, my knees making contact of the cold hard floor, i darted my pupils to the fire head.

Crouching beside me as he sat down with a grunt. We made eye contact, my eyes met his hazels. “Looks like you’re on your knees for me.” He teased and laughed, a frown appearing on my face, i rolled my eyes and shook my head at his behaviour.

“Well then, it’s settled…” Jay turned towards me and kai’s figure on the ground, “You’re staying with us.” Lloyd finished the sentence as he pointed his thumb at himself with a smug grin on his face. I yelled in shock at the answer i was given. “Theres no way you’re making me stay at your stupid hideout!!” I glared my hard eyes at Lloyd.

“Well, we don’t think it’s a good idea to have you back at the prison, since you escaped from that before.” Zane stated.

Groaning, i laid my head back on the wall.

Well this will be a fun night…

A/n: IM SO SORRY THAT THIS WAS RUSHED, i didnt really know how to end it so i just hope this is okay 😓

MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🫶

#fandom #ninjago #ninjagoxreader #fanfic #cole brookstone #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago x reader #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #x reader

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