#I remember watching Going to Pieces when it came out in 2006 and it was fun - wish there was a sorta update for the past 15 years

[viesantewrites]

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

William Killick (The Edge of Love) x Reader

Previous Part

summary: The reader finds a mysterious diary in a library that belonged to William Killick in the 1930s. When she writes something in it, her notes appear in the past (1937) which allows the two to communicate with each other and they eventually fall in love.

note: I was watching "The Lake House" from 2006 with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves and felt inspired by it. (& Also by Tom Riddle's diary in chamber of the secrets) I know that whole concept isn’t brand new but I enjoyed writing it. So welcome to my new cillian fanfic, hope you like it. I‘m not a native English speaker but I try my best.

William's part is set in 1937 and he lives in London. But he has a different job from the one in the film "The Edge of Love"

Masterlist

………………………………………………………………………….

YN slept poorly through the night as a fierce storm raged outside. Thunder rumbled and flashes of lightning repeatedly illuminated the dark room. YN tossed and turned, every sudden jolt making her flinch. The raindrops on the windows and the howling wind added to her discomfort, making sleep almost impossible.

Eventually, despite the storm, she drifted off and woke up in the morning incredibly exhausted. The sky was clear now, and the sun shone through the open curtains. Tired, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was glad it was Sunday and she had the day to herself. She remembered that she had to call Veronica urgently or she would be very angry with her. YN felt guilty that she had brushed off her best friend last evening. But then suddenly all the strange events of the previous day came back to her mind.

She slowly crawled out of bed and walked barefoot to her bedside table, reaching for the black notebook. Everything that had happened last night suddenly felt unreal, as if it had all been a dream. With trembling fingers she leafed through the book. It showed Killick's photo, his notes and diary entries, but when she reached the last page she stopped. Her own note was gone, and also Killick's reply and the brief conversation they had yesterday. Relieved, YN closed the book and sank into the chair beside her. It really had been a strange dream. Frankly, she was glad that incredibly weird and scary things she couldn't explain didn't actually happen. A diary that communicated with her? A young man from the 30s whose soul was trapped in a book? No, that couldn’t be real.

But she was still happy about the notebook because the diary entries were incredibly interesting and gave an insight into what life in London must have been like almost 90 years ago, even without magical powers. It would be perfect for her thesis.

YN yawned and grabbed her phone. She was going to ask Veronica if she wanted to meet her at her favourite café so they could plan the party together and enjoy their day. After all, she didn't have to worry about her thesis anymore. At least not today.

***

Confused, William looked at the blank pages in front of him. This couldn't be true. Where had the stranger's mysterious messages gone? Hadn't she claimed to be from the future last night?

He rubbed his temples as he sat down to breakfast at his small kitchen table and stirred his tea. His brain seemed to be working non-stop, giving him no rest. He flipped through the pages again, but where yesterday there had been his own writing and that of the stranger, today there was nothing but blank white paper. Did the notebook erase the messages at the start of a new day? What strange magic was this?

William's stomach growled quietly. Sighing, he got up and found a single piece of dry, hard bread in the basket on the kitchen counter. That should be enough for this morning, he didn't have any more, and bread was expensive.

He sat down at the table, took a bite of the bread, opened the diary again, grabbed his pen and began to write.

***

The day flew by for YN. She didn’t even think a second about the notebook, just enjoyed the day with Veronica. The weather was pleasantly warm for September, and it felt as if summer was making one last appearance before disappearing for months. Veronica had been busy planning her birthday party, from the guest list to the seating arrangements to the drinks, as she wanted the party to be perfect. YN liked seeing her so happy and invested in something, especially as Veronica was one of those people who could hardly get excited about anything.

In a good mood, YN returned to her small flat in the evening and lay down on the couch. Now it was time to relax and watch TV, but not for too long, she had to get up early tomorrow and didn't want to be too tired and unfocused at university. Maybe her best friend was right and she really was a nerd.

As she thought about university, Killick's notebook suddenly came back to her mind. She had decided this morning not to touch it, but for some reason YN just couldn't let it go. She felt guilty. It wasn't hers, after all, and perhaps it would be better if she returned it to the library tomorrow, after making notes and copies for her thesis.

Lost in thought, she finally got up, went into the bedroom, took it from the bedside table where she had left it this morning, leafed through it and suddenly flinched. This couldn't be happening, she must be dreaming again. What on earth was happening? Trembling, she dropped the book and pinched her arm as hard as she could. The pain shot through her body and she bit her lip in desperation. She was wide awake, she wasn't dreaming, and she could clearly see William's new note in his neat handwriting on the white paper. Right where there had been nothing but an empty page this morning. He had answered her again. With a pounding heart and bated breath, she began to read.

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒴𝒩,

ℐ'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓈, 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝒾𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈, 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝓊𝓃𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓊𝓉 ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒. 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒢𝑜𝒹'𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓇𝓎, 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝒮𝑜 ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜.

ℐ 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 ℐ 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒? 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀𝓈 ℐ’𝓋𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓂? 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, ℐ 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒶 𝒻𝓁𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 ℐ'𝓂 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈. 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝑒? ℐ'𝓂 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 ℐ 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉.

ℐ 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝓈, 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔. ℐ 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝓊𝓅 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒲𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 ℒ𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝟷𝟽. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈. ℐ 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒? 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀, 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒹𝑜 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂?

ℐ 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉,

𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓂

Tears began to well up in YN's eyes. Even though she still couldn't believe what was happening, this message had touched her deeply. He seemed so accessible, as if he had opened his heart a little to her. To her, a complete stranger from another time.

Almost automatically, YN's hands reached for the pen, and it began to scratch across the old, slightly yellowed paper. Small tears dripped onto the paper as she wrote, lost in her thoughts, only the sounds of London reaching her ears now and then to bring her back to the present. Her heart pounding, she lowered the pen and read her message once more before closing the book and falling asleep.

𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚,

𝑇𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝘩𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟, 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙. 𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙, 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝘩𝑦 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝘩𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝟸𝟸𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒. 𝑃𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑜'𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝘩𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑖𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝𝘩𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐺𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑁𝑜𝑟𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝐴 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒. 𝑊𝘩𝑖𝑐𝘩 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚. 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

𝑀𝑦 𝘩𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠. 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑜. 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛. 𝐼 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓.

𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑠𝘩 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝑅𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝐼 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐵𝑖𝑔 𝐵𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑤, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 ��𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛. 𝐼𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦? 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝟾𝟶 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑤𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠,

𝑌𝑁

***

The library was empty and quiet as YN slowly climbed the long staircase the next day, clutching William's diary to her chest. She was unsure if what she was about to do was the right thing. Her mind kept telling her that she had stolen the diary and should give it back, but her heart wanted to keep it so that she could continue to communicate with William. He had left her another little message this morning. He thanked her for her reply, told her about his day yesterday, his work as a carpenter in London, and how he had found a stray kitten in the street and was now taking care of it.

YN loved reading his messages. He wrote so vividly, as if you were really there and experiencing the events for yourself. He also seemed like a really good person, even in such difficult times.

YN sighed one last time as she looked down at the notebook in her hand, then approached the reception desk where the elderly librarian from last week turned to her with a smile.

"Hello, madam. There you are again. Looking for another book for your thesis?"

YN took a deep breath and shook her head. She could hardly bring herself to tell the lady what she wanted. She didn't want to return the book, she wanted to keep reading William's beautiful messages. But her mind forced her to.

"Are you okay?" the librarian asked, looking worried.

Finally, YN gathered her courage and handed her the old notebook.

"I wanted to return this. I found it in the old George Nordwood book. Somehow it got into my bag and I took it home. I'm sorry, really."

The older lady looked at the book in silence and accepted it.

YN felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She had decided to return it and would never read William's notes again. "It belonged to a man named William Killick. I don't know who he is or what he has to do with George Nordwood, but I suppose we'll never find out," she said.

The librarian remained silent, opened the book, ran her finger over William's photograph on the first page, then tilted her head slightly. "He's my grandfather. He told me you were coming. Since I was a little girl. I have no idea how he knew about you but he was right."

The words sent a shiver down YN's spine. How did he know that?

……………………………………………………………………………

thank you for reading! ❤️

(yes i know it’s damien and not william but i liked the picture :D)

tag list:

@freedomring1

you liked part 1, so i hope it’s okay that I‘m adding you to my taglist:

@tenderly-hopeful-collection

@jz12luvscl16 @jz12

[adyophene]

Hello ! I just have a little question, how do we start drawing ? I want go draw but idk how to start- any suggestion ? Or, if for starting it's better to do it with tutos, any tutorial to recommend ?

Have a great day !

Oooh, this is a tough question to answer! I suppose one the best pieces of advice I have is to figure out, before anything, what you are hoping to draw. What style, what tones, what media.

I have a feeling this might get long, so I will throw the rest under a readmore.

For me, when I started taking my art a little more seriously (I never went to art school or anything) I just focused on finding both tutorials on the fundamentals, and finding tutorials that focused on the aspects of art that interested me, which were animation and cartooning!

They go hand-in-hand, after all, and you'll find you end up honing in on the tutorials that coincide with your interests! IE- I ended up doing a lot of figure, and expression drawing because they would help me express emotion and movement better! I also spent so, so long just training my hand to be a bit more confident with drawing steady lines just because I loved the look of clean line-work!

So try to identify what your personal draw towards art is! By doing both something you like, as well as focusing the basics, I found that, at least in my personal experience, it put me in a positive feedback loop where I could keep seeing results in exactly the type of art I was interested in! And, once you start to feel confident, that is when you start adding in little bits of study from fields you might struggle with! A 90/10 split on what you're comfortable with and then what is new is usually a good way to go about it! Weirdly enough, though I don't watch him, I saw that the youtuber pewdiepie actually had a really good set of videos where he started from being a complete beginner and improving his art over 100 days. I believe its an absolutely great watch for a new artist, because he really does a great job in showing what a brand new journey into art can look like, and explains what he thinks each day. I think my favorite line was, 'after 24 days, I was finally having fun' because that can really sum up the new artist experience. It will absolutely be a slog at times, and can be really disheartening, but when you start to see progress, becomes so, SO fun.

Here is the link to the first vid, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMLEudGbxQk and his second https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJDtQTTAogk

ALSO- this was just the first video that came to mind because I watched it recently. I would recommend finding other videos about people learning to draw, or doing 30-100-365 day challenge videos. As for my personal favorite channels for art tutorials (though keep in mind, I haven't watched them in a few years ;-;, I need to study again);

There were a number of others that I wish I could link as well, but I am struggling to remember them. I hope any of that is helpful. My own art journey has been very long, and non linear, and I have to say, I'm not even satisfied with my own art! Its a endless mountain to climb, but it is so worth it to do! And lastly, I want to say thank you so much for sending this ask, you've made me dig back in to artists I used to study, and made me want to really focus back in on my own improvement!

[theunderestimator-2]

Simone Thomas, one the few black girls involved in the early London punk scene, as well as an early member of the Bromley Contingent, most notably known for appearing along with the rest of the Sex Pistols posse in the infamous Bill Grundy interview, here captured during a 1979 photo shoot by Martin Christopher-Martin.

Stunningly photogenic Simone was befriended by a Bromley Contingent founding member and a mate of Siouxsie, Bertie Marshall aka Berlin Bromley, some time ca. 1976 after he spotted her and followed her in a department store, having been struck by her looks. She was in her teens and supposedly Simon Barker was her boyfriend.

“...a black girl with platinum blonde hair, wearing a plastic mac and smoking multi coloured Russian cigarettes....She looked so original, all black and gold, a huge painted red smile that cracked her face...Simone and I had several things in common, love of David Bowie being one of them and dressing up.

Bertie Marshall, Three Piece Suite (2006)

My life revolved around David Bowie and Roxy Music and dressing up and going to gigs. I’d met Siouxsie at a Roxy concert and dressing up and going to gigs. She was from the same part of London as me and she started going out with Steve Severin who was part of the same scene. Berlin was also a very good friend of mine who used to have really good parties. We all went to the 100 Club together to watch Siouxsie. We also used to go to Louise's, a lesbian club in Soho...we used to talk a lot  because we were all speeding at the time - everyone was...we became known as the Bromley contingent after the Pistols played Orpington College and they came to one of Berlin's parties. We were the first fans - in fact. I wasn't really a fan but I just went along with it...”

Simone Thomas, ‘Punk: The Illustrated History Of A Music Revolution’ by Adrian Boot & Chris Salewicz

According to her, she felt like she was in a movie, just wearing the clothes to fit the image, yet she didn’t actually didn't feel the part -nor did she think much of the Sex Pistols as people. She remembers hoping that her dad wasn't watching when she appeared with the band and others on the Bill Grundy ITV interview and recalls McLaren paying them to go to the airport when the Pistols went to Holland to look like they had a lot of fans. 

Given what she said above, it's no surprise she she soon disappeared off the scene some time in the late-’70s. Over the years she would work as a model, an actor and a jazz singer & songwriter, gigging with several groups in London and abroad.

(via, via, via & via)

[slicznymartwy]

Can I request Billy Lenz X AFAB!Reader where l the reader got pregnant because Billy forgot to use the condom.

my mind is going in a billion different directions on this one :0 its a little bit of a mess, but i rlly liked this prompt !! angst ahead warning: potentially dubcon, unprotected sex

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x afab!reader getting pregnant

you buy condoms out of self preservation. maybe it isn’t true self preservation, since you wouldn’t entertain billy at all if you really cared about your safety, but it gives you a little peace of mind. you leave them in your bedside table for the next time billy visits you, but you don’t remember them until he’s sitting back on his knees, keeping your legs spread to watch the mess he’s made spill out of you.

you don’t panic, even though there’s a little alarm bell in your head telling you that maybe you should be worried about letting a sick stranger finish inside you. you tell yourself that if there’s a next time, then you’ll stick to your guns and tell him what’s what.

but billy’s like a hurricane. he sweeps into your room and rips your mind to pieces. nothing makes sense when billy’s around - up is down, and every bit of knowledge you have about safe sex gets tossed aside for these new primal urges. your brain tells you he’s a stranger, but your core aches for him like he’s a familiar lover.

you shouldn’t be surprised when notice the symptoms. you know you’ve done this to yourself. you can’t even lie and say that billy forced you because he never did, you wanted it every damn time. you knew the condoms were right next to you the entire time, but you left them unopened because you wanted to feel the way billy adored your fucked and used hole.

a lot of thoughts cross your mind. you could take a break from school and move back home with your parents. it’s a common enough mistake among girls your age, they probably wouldn’t even dig too deeply into who the father was if you came up with a good enough lie. 

you think about your friends in the house - what if billy gets mad and hurts one of them? you wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if he lashed out to your friends.

shuddering, you also realize that this would be billy’s baby. who knows what he could pass on to his spawn. even if the baby was perfectly healthy, what kind of a father would billy be? what if he called nonstop and spewed obscenities into his child’s ear?

an abortion, you decide, would be the best course of action. the mistake was telling billy about it at all.

you only do it because it feels lonely, carrying this secret. you can’t tell your friends, because then they’ll ask who the father is. they won’t be satisfied with a shrug, and god forbid it gets spread around as a rumor. billy will keep your secret, at the very least.

you tell him in your bedroom, sitting beside each other on your bed. he doesn’t betray much on his face. you wonder if he understands, at first. then, you feel his fingers against your stomach, a gentle press. you touch his hand with your own, mourning your baby together.

the peace in the room doesn’t last must longer. you can tell the longer billy thinks about it, the more upset he’s becoming. his breath is coming faster and he rips away from you to fold in on himself, covering his face with his hands.

when he finally speaks, it feels like he’s trying to rip the baby out with just his words.

he calls you a stupid slut and asks why you did this, as if you chose this for yourself. he’s spiraling and he’s getting more and more upset. you don’t really understand him - you know so little about his past and it’s difficult to calm him down.

he blames you for it, and it breaks your heart. you weren’t sure what to expect from him, and maybe that is your fault. you really were terrible at self preservation.

notes bc i have more to say but not sure how to glue it together

feel free to interpret this how u like (personally i avoid the whole sa topic when it comes to agnes and i havent watched the 2006 version at all) but i think that whatever happened, billy feels some guilt. the thought of bringing his baby into the world terrifies him because to him, de facto he’s going to cause it pain.

like i said about the 2006 ver, never watched it im not a fan, but you can interpret his pain in that way too. it would bring up a lot of really wretched memories for him

i don’t think he would be ready for a baby at all. theres no reality where he’ll suddenly shape up and be any kind of father figure.

but for the sake of this being fiction, i do kind of like the image of him holding his baby for the first time and feeling a lot of love for it. maybe healing a little bit too. i think he’d be forced to watch his child’s life from the sidelines, he wouldn’t be allowed by reader to interact with their child at all, but i think he’d be proud to see them grow up. he’d see he can put good in the world, too. he doesn’t have to contribute to generational trauma. idk i know thats not how life works but it’s nice to think about

[silverfoxstole]

Paul McGann: The latest twist in his tale

He's spent his career thinking on his feet, so it made sense to improvise his latest role, he tells James Mottram

Published: 20 October 2006 in The Independent

Every autumn, Paul McGann is given an annual reminder of his greatest role. Living in a university town like Bristol, "you can set your calendar by it," he says. "The new student intake has just come in, and they've drunk their first grant cheque and seen Withnail and I... and I know when they've seen it. They usually holler across the street." While Richard E Grant's flamboyant drunk Withnail was the character blessed with the lion's share of memorable quotes, McGann's more introspective "I" still had his moments. He grins at a recent reminder. "The other day, some kid had chalked on the pavement outside my house, 'Perfumed Ponce', with an arrow pointing to my front door!"

Now 46, it's refreshing to see McGann is not precious about the fact that his finest hour has just been commemorated this month with a 20th anniversary DVD. "It's actually very satisfying," he admits. "I can safely say, 'If I'd never done another movie, it would've been all right.'" Still handsome, with his Byronic brown curls, there's a sense of genuine gratitude in his soft Scouse accent. The son of a factory worker and a nursery school teacher, perhaps it's in the knowledge that a working-class childhood in Liverpool does not always lead to such a grand career as acting. The Catholic-raised McGann knows he's been fortunate: accepted into Rada, he got his big break in 1982 alongside his three brothers - Joe, Mark and Stephen - in the West End rock'n'roll musical Yakkety Yak.

"We all wanted to be movie stars," he recalls of his youthful days. "When I was a kid, about 11 or 12, we used to try and bunk into local cinemas to see X movies. Who doesn't do that at that age? This would've been 1972. Maybe an older kid would buy a ticket, then go and open the fire door and we'd watch this film until we were all thrown out. You'd see some hammy old thing, but now and again you'd see a great film - like Klute or Five Easy Pieces. I remember watching Jack Nicholson, maybe not understanding what he's up to but thinking I'd love to do that. He was engaging, charismatic - I was rapt!"

McGann was never going to be the next Nicholson, even if winning the lead in Alan Bleasdale's 1986 BBC drama The Monocled Mutineer boosted his profile. Unlike Grant, he never really made it in Hollywood. "What do they say? It's better to regret the things you have done than the things you haven't," he notes. When he did get cast in major productions, he spent most of his time on the cutting room floor. Almost entirely excised from Steven Spielberg's Empire of the Sun, he saw his part for David Fincher's Alien3 truncated to an almost unintelligible degree and then he was unfortunate enough to appear in Queen of the Damned, the ill-fated follow-up to Interview with a Vampire. "Careers are what they are," he shrugs. "They don't make any sense at all when you look back. We're not in charge of them."

Fate certainly seems to have had a hand in McGann's CV. A knee injury in 1994 forced him to cede the lead in ITV's Sharpe to Sean Bean. Two years later came his one-off turn as Doctor Who, following on from Sylvester McCoy in a US pilot that was set to resurrect the series but ultimately never picked up because the ratings weren't high enough. "We made a pilot that didn't work," he says. "And it didn't work because it wasn't good enough." But given the success of the current revamped show, does he have regrets that he's likely to be remembered - in his own words - as the "George Lazenby of Doctor Who"? "It's impossible to regret. It could've been very different. I would've been there for five or six years... and I'd have earned a shit-load of dough. Life wouldn't have been the same but it didn't happen."

If there's a suspicion that McGann is not ruthless enough to play the Hollywood game, not least because Withnail and I anointed him with a cuddly image, he has set about changing that with his latest film, Gypo. An entirely improvised piece about immigration, he plays Paul, a racist father-of-three living in Margate. Trapped in a loveless marriage, Paul is the vilest character of McGann's career, beginning the film by violently objecting to his daughter bringing home a classmate who, it emerges, is a Romany Czech refugee. "I had to be prepared for him to be irredeemable," says McGann. "He is unremittingly miserable."

Fed on a diet of tabloids and Talk Sport, McGann says his character belongs with the "huge majority of these little Englanders with their easy assumptions. At one point, he talks about Africa being a big county - that's about the level of him." He adds that he didn't want to make him like some "Alf Garnett cartoon" and he doesn't - though he confesses to the fact that director Jan Dunn only came to the set with "broad notions" for the scenes. The rest was up to him. "There wasn't a script to discuss," he says. "That brought me out in a rash, to be honest. That was one of the reasons I thought I had to do this. I couldn't think of any proper, intelligent excuse to turn this kind of challenge down."

Telling the same basic story from three separate perspectives, Gypo is officially the first British film to be registered as a Dogme movie. Given that this manifesto, devised by the Danish director Lars von Trier to purify the film-making process by using only original locations, natural light and so on, is over a decade old, it might seem rather after the fact. McGann nods. "I entered it with a mixture of open-mindedness and healthy cynicism. I mean, they're having us on aren't they? Some of that stuff... c'mon! The more dubious claims for the process about truth and nebulous ideas about authenticity. I mean, what's that about? Films are artifice. We're telling stories on film. At the same time, when it works, there is a real tough immediacy and spontaneity to it, and a punch."

Both frank and funny, McGann is the perfect pub-mate - not least because he is so self-deprecating. Noting that his short-lived time playing Doctor Who has nevertheless given him a place in the show's pantheon, he recalls meeting legendary Time Lord Tom Baker. "We were in opposite voice over studios," he says. "This guy in the sound studio told me he was in, so I went and met him. He didn't have a clue who I was! I found it rather refreshing. He was very charming. He just thought I was some kid off the street. So I thought, 'Let's just leave it at that.'"

Yet as chummy as McGann is, it's doubtful if he'd ever fully open up - at least in interview. Dubbing himself "a miserable bastard at the best of times", laying bare his soul is unlikely to make him happy. Of his brothers, he says, "We get on OK. We get on fine." The last time he worked with them was in 1995's Irish famine saga The Hanging Gale, which the quartet conceived themselves. "The biggest obstacle is getting us all together," he grunts, when asked if he'd consider working with them again. He's better on his sons: 17-year-old Joseph is musically gifted, "one of those swines that can play any instrument", while 15-year-old Jake "has been making funny noises" about following his father into acting.

Such reticence can be easily traced back to the mid-1990s, when McGann had his one uncomfortable brush with the limelight. Caught in the street kissing Catherine Zeta-Jones, his co-star from period piece Catherine the Great, by a photographer, it caused a minor scandal and the press descended upon him and his family. While Joseph and Jake "were really spooked by it" - to the point that they now hate having their photograph taken - McGann admits the gossip "rattled" his relationship with his wife Annie, a former assistant stage manager turned interior designer. "I felt like a kid who was being bullied," reflects McGann.

Since Gypo, McGann has done what he's always done, and worked steadily. He recently completed the lead in Poppies, a film about a playwright who becomes obsessed with the fact his grandfather and two great uncles were killed in the Battle of the Somme that will receive its premiere in November at the Imperial War Museum. And he is currently filming a short produced by Zoë Ball entitled Always Crashing In The Same Car, reuniting with Grant for the first time since Withnail and I. "It's good when we're together," says McGann. "We're still mates. Our kids know each other. Very occasionally we're together in the same place - and then it's difficult to pay for a drink. I like that."

'Gypo' opens today

[renapomissing]

Comic Sonic Super Study 13

Time for the Triple Trouble adaptation!

Boy, that is not the plot of Triple Trouble, but sure, I'll roll with it.

Though, I'm pretty sure Sega will never contradict this. There's just no way this matters enough for them to cover it.

Hey, uh... Sonic...? You good, bruh?

Oh, so we're doing this again.

Previously, on Sonic Comic Super Study 10!

Mt... Osohahi...

YOU GOOD, SONIC!?!

Reminds me of that time CM Punk muted Vince McMahon.

Oh, so Sonic just goes through the whole game here.

Man, Sonic got shot. Hope he learns to watch his flank. Hm? Say what about 2006?

Also, remember when Fang was called Nack?

So, this comic is still calling the Master Emerald the Chaos Emerald, even though the term was available to the English-speaking audience at the time.

Got Fang with the Sonic 3 surprise attack.

Before he hit the ground. Dope. Sonic 3-level reaction time.

Story 2:

Why did Tails need a submarine?

Sonic limited series #1? Good God, that's a deep call-back.

I wanna talk about this for a moment, because I love it. Now, I like Sally. Easily my favorite western Sonic character, and I even like her a fair amount more than a decent amount of the game characters. But this was the wrong move, on her part. She should not have let Rotor get so far as finishing the submarine, but still not letting Tails have it. That hurts worse than just being told you can't have it. Admittedly, this depends on when Sally found out about the submarine. But I'm very taken with characters being allowed to make decisions that aren't always the best. Sally should be allowed to make the wrong choice sometimes, and to grow from learning when she messed up. I like when characters have to learn from their mistakes. But, there's a second aspect to that concept, and it's one that actually got done perfectly: This choice is still entirely in-character for Sally. Very often, you'll find people who are willing to let a character mess up, but it's in a way that is completely at odds with how they've been acting up to that point. Now, obviously, this is not a Sally story, and this is not an apocalyptic mistake, so this will not be a story about Sally learning that she has to exercise better judgement, but it's still nice. It's actually why I was kinda disappointed that what seemed like Sally mistakenly trusting someone she shouldn't in the Princess Sally miniseries turned out to be a well-executed plan on her part. Sure, the reveal that she played Robotnik was pretty cool, but I'm not going to pretend I wouldn't have been more invested in the other idea. Of course, no piece of media is made specifically for me, so hey, sometimes I'm just not gonna be into how stuff plays out. Anyway, back to the actual content of this book, because this is a Tails story, and I've managed to turn this into a Princess Sally detour.

I'm also into the idea of the Freedom Fighters having a bit of a blind spot in their judgement. Maybe they are treating Tails unfairly. I mean, the point of the story is that, yes, they are, but you get the idea.

Story 3:

Y'know, Penders's Knuckles improves a surprising amount when his overabundance of dialogue is put into thought bubbles. It doesn't seem as unnatural.

It's kinda weird to see a completely regular animal talking in this series. Knuckles has a small conversation with an entirely anatomically typical bird, and I just didn't expect something like that.

"Being everyone's pigeon"? Is that a thing? I mean, it probably was, back when this book came out.

Well, I was wondering what that cliffhanger from the S&K Special was. I'll find out at some point, but clearly, Penders is playing the long game on this one. I can respect that. Wondering how many kids reading this thing knew how to pronounce Archimedes, but hey.

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

"Eddie Redmayne: 5 Movies That Made Me the Actor I Am"

Eddie Redmayne began his career as a working actor on the stage, before making his film debut in the 2006 psychological thriller Like Minds, and the Robert De Niro-directed The Good Shepherd that same year. Cut to 10 years later, and he'd won the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in 2014's The Theory of Everything, and earned another Best Actor nomination the following year for The Danish Girl.

"There is so much adrenaline coursing through your body that night that weirdly, a lot of it's impossible to remember," Redmayne recalls of winning his Oscar. "But my overwhelming memory was right at the end of the night — so, into the morning I suppose; I was staying at The Sunset Tower Hotel and a handful of friends came back to the room with me and my wife. It was the first time that I was surrounded by a cocoon of people I knew and loved, and there was a moment as the sun was rising over Sunset Boulevard where it momentarily sank in. And, as a British actor, having for years come over to LA and lived all those clichés of auditioning, it felt like there was a romance to Los Angeles that was fully fulfilled in that moment."

The years since have seen him play such disparate roles as a magizoologist (the Fantastic Beasts franchise), a meteorologist (The Aeronauts), and a member of the Chicago Seven (The Trial of the Chicago 7). Redmayne's latest sees him embody a real-life serial killer, Charlie Cullen, in director Tobias Lindholm's The Good Nurse.

"The Good Nurse was not a part that I necessarily would've felt that I was born to play — America's most prolific serial killer — but Tobias saw something in me, and I'm thrilled he did," the actor says. "That was a bit of a question mark to the people around me and, to be honest, a lot of them haven't seen the movie yet. So, we'll see how I fared!"

His versatility as a leading man is a reflection of the movies that have inspired and emboldened Redmayne throughout his career. Below, he shares with A.frame five of the films that made him the actor he is today.

1

Giant

1956

Directed by: George Stevens | Written by: Fred Guiol and Ivan Moffat

"Giant blew my mind. I watched it maybe five, six years ago, and the scale of it combined with the intimacy of it, I thought was astonishing. It was a moment when I was wanting to watch all of James Dean's films in one go — not in one sitting, but over a few days. And I thought that, as an actor, his physicality was completely astonishing. There is that scene where Dean is pacing out the first land that he's owned, and it was something about the silhouette, and the particular rhythm, and getting a full sense of the entirety of his body, and how much was communicated through that stays with me".

2

Cabaret

1972

Directed by: Bob Fosse | Written by: Jay Presson Allen

"That opening shot with Joel Grey [as the Master of Ceremonies], that's an image that is etched onto my retina. Everything about it just took me somewhere that I had never experienced — the mood of the piece, the overwhelming corruption of it, the specificity of the choreography. The way that, through the quick cuts of moments with Joel and Liza Minnelli, you got entire relationships that felt embedded and sketched. And, of course, the music blew my mind. In fact, so much so that Cabaret really was the piece that catalyzed me into being an actor".

[Redmayne returned to the stage to star in the London revival of 'Cabaret,' playing the Master of Ceremonies opposite Jessie Buckley's Sally Bowles. The production swept this year's Laurence Olivier Awards.]

"I don't have many dreams, but it was a life dream. There was a moment on the opening night in London, I'd been sent some flowers, but I hadn't been able to open the cards from the flowers. And, halfway through the opening night show, I opened a card and it was from Joel Grey. And I treasure that. His performance in Cabaret remains for me one of the great master classes".

3

The Beat That My Heart Skipped

2005

Directed by: Jacques Audiard | Written by: Jacques Audiard and Tonino Benacquista

"The Beat That My Heart Skipped manages to evoke something that is so specific that I had in your head perhaps all my life, but perhaps never even articulated to myself. And then, you see it articulated on-screen and it shocks you with the reminder of humanity. There's a moment when Romain Duris, who gives a tour de force in this film, he's a concert pianist and he's practicing the piano. He's sitting at the piano, there's no one there, and he's about to play a tricky passage. There's a moment before his hand goes down, it's hovering over the keys and you see the tension of nerves in his fingers. It was an experience that I had felt so specifically; that thing where you are rehearsing something by yourself, there's no one to feel embarrassed or to make a fool of, and yet that tension of nerves can still hit you. I thought that it was an insight into the power of film in a very intimate moment".

4

My Summer of Love

2004

Directed by: Paweł Pawlikowski | Written by: Paweł Pawlikowski and Michael Wynne

"My Summer of Love is a film that I saw very early on when I was starting acting professionally. It's the intimacy of this relationship between Natalie Press and Emily Blunt, with a dumbfounding performance by Paddy Considine. I went in not having read anything, and it stunned and shocked me and seduced me. And it has one of the great soundtracks by Goldfrapp. It was a moment when I went straight out and started watching all of Pawel's work. There was something so unplaceable about it, but completely unique. It still haunts me, that film".

5

Robin Hood

1973

Directed by: Wolfgang Reitherman | Written by: Larry Clemmons, Ken Anderson, Vance Gerry, Frank Thomas, Eric Cleworth, Julius Svendsen, David Michener

"Robin Hood was the film of my childhood. Now, it's the one I go back to with my kids. But also, sometimes the skill of voice acting can be underestimated, and I think that the work that Peter Ustinov [as Prince John] does in this is one of the great vocal performances, alongside an actor called Terry-Thomas who plays Sir Hiss. I could pretty much deliver every line of that movie. When you have kids that there are those few movies that you are desperate for your children to love as much as you do, and fortunately, they do".

TOP 5

EDDIE REDMAYNE

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[owltypical]

i've been grumbling about the branagh poirot movies a fair amount lately, and honestly i keep thinking about it in connection to that recent post about how differently and cynically movies are made these days, and how it all comes down to my big gripe that i've actually had for a long time now, about how modern media just doesn't trust the audience with adaptations of old books

it can't just be conversations and quiet thoughtful moments and characters acting like normal-ass people, there has to be ramped-up violence, gun fights, dramatic action, explosions, you gotta spice it up, and be sure to dumb down/minimize the dialogue

you can't have a full cast of characters of all kinds and let them be established and breathe, you have to get rid of a bunch or just combine them into fewer characters, and be sure to make them secret super criminals or turn them into something that has nothing to do with the source material at all, and make sure they've all been cast with generically attractive actors within a certain age range

like i remember a few years back trying to watch an adaptation of the bronte novel the tenant of wildfell hall because i'd liked the book a lot, and when it got to a part that had been relatively mild when written, suddenly it was a big violent fight sequence with intense dramatic music and was so wildly out-of-character and offbase that i immediately stopped watching

i have a strong fondness for the 2006 jane eyre miniseries, because the lead characters are so well-cast with good chemistry, but whenever i've gone back to watch it i actually just skip most of it to just get to certain scenes because there's so much that's just absurd and over-the-top and out of place

sometimes adaptations improve on books, sometimes greatly, but it's so tiresome to read something and then watch or look up info on the adaptation, and see how it's almost nothing like the source, it got changed around to something almost completely different because poirot needs a tragic origin story and a love interest and to stand in front of explosions, elizabeth and mr. darcy have to have an extended hot sexy half-naked makeout at the end of the movie so you can know they're truly in love, mr. markham has to scream and beat the shit out of a dude for the drama, even a bunch of poirot and marple tv episode adaptions i've looked up change things to an absurd degree and make it flashier and more intense

i think that's why knives out was so refreshing when it came out, it's just a fucked up family in a house and an eccentric detective, it has tense moments and confrontations but nothing super outrageous, it's going for an old school character-based whodunnit vibe and it nails it far, far more successfully than anything branagh's ever done with his own ostensible period pieces

glass onion is definitely a lot more absurd and even has a big explosion, but at least that absurdity is established as a very particular brand of modern absurdity with particular modern subject matter, and large chunks of the movie are still thoughtful and well-plotted and just feature a bunch of people in a house, or sitting and talking and having very interesting conversations

all this rambling to say: please trust the audience more, it's okay for something to be relatively quiet and character-focused, let things breathe, let things be expansive, give the audience room to think and take things in, inspire the audience to consume media more thoughtfully and with more literacy, you don't have to distract them every five minutes with an explosion or a tiddy

[asheskyler]

First Karate Tournament

I participated in my first tournament on the 19th! I had watched a tournament in Rome, GA, back in 2006 and 2007, but was too nervous to sign up. With a little goading, I jumped in on this one all the way. I did an open-handed kata, a weapon kata, and I competed in point sparring. I was so cotton-pickin’ nervous! Granted, I’ve had really, really bad social anxiety in the past and while most of it has gotten better, it’s still there. In karate instances, it’s helped a bit doing some light teaching and leading a few stretches.

My first competition was in weapons kata. I chose the sai because I have been saying for a few years if I ever compete in weapons it was going to be with my favourite weapon, the sai. I found out afterward that I announced I was doing my open-handed kata, Seisan, not the weapon kata I had chosen, Rohai Dai. That does explain why an old friend of my mine who was judging gave me a funny look when I said what kata I was going to do. One of the ladies at my dojo was also judging, and we had a good laugh about it the next time we were at class. I told her my anxiety was HIGH. “You came out pretty confident, so I just went with it!” My second competition was in open-handed kata. With both I came in third place, in part due to the fact there were only three people in both divisions. I wasn’t as polished, and my nerves were pretty bad. During my sai kata, I locked eyes for a split second with my boyfriend, and I forgot everything. The kata, the time, the day, the location, the state, the planet, what species I was, my name, and even what dimension I was in. I wish I was exaggerating. Everything went blank, and I felt like I had completely disassociated from existence itself. I pushed on through and finished.

After my kata divisions, my instructor (he was also the host of the tournament) asked me to judge some of the kids’ kata competitions. Being a hair’s breadth away from an anxiety attack, I said “no” and then immediately “yes”, and went to go spaz in a judge’s seat for two or three divisions. I’m glad I did go judge, because in one division I looked over, one of them was our student who has special needs. The other two judges weren’t from our dojo. I passed on some explanations so they wouldn’t think they were just being sloppy, and also did some translations. A welcome distraction from my robust anxiety clawing at my mind.

However, I could not judge the kids’ sparring matches when I was asked. I don’t know if it’s inexperience, the sensory issues, or what, but sparring matches, especially kids’ matches, are just an incoherent blur to me. “Did you see what happened?” “Yes, there were two children punching each other. Participation happened. Neither of them cried.” Shoot, I don’t even remember what happens in my own matches because it’s just an incoherent blur! I might remember bits and pieces, but mostly it’s just a muddled mess.

I had also signed up for point sparring. I had to do an exhibition match with a brown belt because there was nobody for her division. She said all of her matches at tournaments had been exhibition matches because there was never anybody in her division, and she felt bad I had to fight her because I had a match afterward. I told her nobody was in my division either and I had hoped for at least two matches, so she actually did me a favour. It made her feel better, and it was the truth. I felt bad because I won our round. On the one hand, black belt losing to an under belt is pitiful. On the other, a black belt defeating a brown belt feels a bit like taking advantage of them. I tried to give her room to work and push her a bit so she’d have a challenge instead of a beating. My match was basically an exhibition match as well, and the assocation’s leader’s granddaughter was my opponent. I was instantly nervous because of that. I know it’s ridiculous to shy away from the “royal family”, but all the same, I’m not comfortable sparring the “royal family”. A lot of our points were dismissed as clashes, and she ultimately won our match. She gave me a big hug and thanked me afterward, which I didn’t understand why. The same thing happened at my jiu jitsu tournament with my other opponents. Hrm.

My boyfriend fought in two full contact matches, and then had to do an exhibition match with a brown belt as well. It’s gotten us both fired up to train harder. We’re getting together regularly in the mornings to walk and run, do kata, spar, and he wants to do Fighter’s Codex with me. I am getting really excited about that. It’s one of my favourite programs that Darebee.com has, and it has tested my limits each time I’ve done it. We’re a few days in now. It’s really nice having somebody to work out with outside of class.

In random commentary, apparently my phone has a “wind down” option that turns everything black and white. As a greyscale pencil artist, this makes me even more likely to stay on my phone because browsing pictures is so much more fascinating.

[deke-rivers-1957]

I posted 126 times in 2022

That's 126 more posts than 2021!

54 posts created (43%)

72 posts reblogged (57%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@alienelvisobsession

@skinnypantsmcgee

@loving-elvis

@heartbrake-hotel

@lindszeppelin

I tagged 123 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#0 - 7 posts

#real elvis - 77 posts

#elvis presley - 37 posts

#elvis film - 31 posts

#elvis fandom - 13 posts

#real talk - 10 posts

#elvis was a nerd - 9 posts

#elvis art - 7 posts

#film review - 7 posts

#my thoughts - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#seriously look at pics where he's holding a frame from the 70s his thumb is bent backwards a bit more than most people can handle

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Kung Fu Elvis Part 1

So going back to @skinnypantsmcgee posting a piece where different Elvis' fighting each other made me think of something. What if we rank all of Elvis' characters based on their fighting ability?

Basically what I'm gonna do is after I watch 4 films, I'm gonna rank each of Elvis' characters based on their ability to win a no weapons hand to hand combat style fight. I know Elvis did 31 films but I do not count his 2 documentaries as films so I'm only judging his 29 films. That's 7 parts with the last one having 5 films.

Ok so here we go, after I recap each of the characters including their age in the order I watch the film I'll rank them at the end. Age is important because a young 20 something fighting is different than a 30 something fighting. In some cases Elvis' character is specifically given an age in the film, but otherwise his character will be treated as if he was the same age as Elvis when he did the film.

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

Ok so first review of course was the first film, Love Me Tender. This film is set during the last couple days of the Civil War and the next couple months that follow. Elvis' character was Clint Reno, the youngest brother who didn't go to war. His only occupation is being a farmer who did most of the work while his brothers were away. Since this is the 1860s it's debatable as to how much nutrition he got and because the farm wasn't doing that well we can assume this is not a well off family.

Clint is implied to be a young adult or recently became an adult. It's hard to tell because based on the dialogue and circumstances in the film, he comes off as an 18 year old. Vance said he was practically a man, he wanted to be part of the war but he couldn't go and just in general he comes off as a young man trying to prove to his brothers he's not a kid anymore. However, the tombstone saying he was 22 years old is evidence that suggests that he's older. The problem with using that to determine age is that it contradicts a line stating how much time has passed since the brothers robbed the train by having him die before they were supposed to have been arrested. Ultimately, I'll just say he's between 18 and 22 since Elvis himself can pass for someone younger than 21 his actual age at the time.

See the full post

13 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

#4

This Boy

Look at this boy from 1956 behind stage on the Steve Allen Show. He's just biting on his hat. He can't even go 5 minutes without be a goof or absolutely precious. Why does he need to have something his mouth all the time?

America explain.

14 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#3

Elvis Ask Game

This is a part of the original thread by @aconflagrationofmyown. I made it separate to make it easier to read since I'm deciding to answer a lot of these lol. Thank you @lindszeppelin and @ash-omalley for tagging me.

•When and what was your first exposure to Elvis Presley?

I don't remember when I first watched this film, but my first exposure to Elvis was watching Lilo and Stitch.

I was only 2 or so when the movie came out so I think I saw it later on when I was like 5 or 6 years old so like maybe 2005/2006.

•And what was your first impression?

I didn't understand who Elvis was other than oh he's the guy Lilo likes so much because of her parents. I didn't think much of him until I was older.

•Lace shirts or jumpsuits?

Lace shirts since I like that era of Elvis better. The jumpsuits are very hit or miss with me and the idea of how much he suffered in that era keeps me from truly enjoying that era.

•You can steal one of Elvis/Austin’s outfits, what’s it going to be?

See the full post

18 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

#2

See the full post

26 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Not totally on board with "Big daddy Elvis" thing. It was water retention from his health issues, not fat. Finding it sexy feels kinda' wrong, to me, but that's just my opinion.🤷

I can understand that. I have hesitancies about it too. I'm fully aware that he had health issues that contributed to his physical appearance.

To me I like the clothes that he wore in that era and to me he sometimes did have good days where the average person wouldn't know that he was even sick.

Regarding his actual size, I try to say "hey it's one thing for him to actually be fat that's perfectly fine, but here it's a bit different because he was actually sick" you know. I try to make it clear that he was sick and that I personally would like him at the size he was in that era so long as he was healthy.

Basically I agree sexualizing him as he really was in this era can be off putting. I personally base my own feelings on a what if fantasy that he was that size and perfectly healthy.

I hope that cleared things up for you as I totally understand that something like this can be uncomfortable and that not everyone in the fandom really understood just how sick he was.

I'm glad you asked this anon because it helped me summarize my own thoughts on the latest surge in big daddy Elvis. While I do agree that he was still a person that deserved love and affection, the degree being taken here is a bit excessive and is more of a sign that the fandom isn't aware of his issues.

51 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

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[lovecanbesostrange]

11/31 Days of Halloween: Documentaries

Crystal Lake Memories: The Complete History of Friday the 13th Doc of the Dead Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror I am Nancy In Search of Darkness Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy Scream, Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street Wolfman’s got Nards

[mgsapphire]

My K-drama recommendation master list Part 2

You can find part 1 here

Look, you gave us relatively new recommendations, what about ones older than 10 years? I'll give you my top 5

Princess Hours (2006) Is a modern Cinderella story. It's 24 episodes long. Available on Viki.

Personal Taste (2010) Honestly, problematic plot if you put your mind into it, but entertaining nonetheless. It's 16 episodes long, each one lasting a little over an hour, available on Viki.

Cinderella's Sister (2010) You hate every character, but there's still something that makes you watch it. Available on Viki.

Thank You (2007) was ahead of its time, it's about a single mother with a daughter who has an HIV+ diagnosis. 16 episodes long, each one lasting a little over an hour. Available on Viki.

Stairway to Heaven (2003) for a good melodrama.

What about romantic fantasies involving fantastic beings?

Guardian: The lonely and Great God(2016) A classic of the genre. It tells the story of a God who was once a man, and is being punished by immortality, unless he meets his bride, who just so happens to be a high schooler centuries later. Available on viki. 16 episodes long with 3 specials, all lasting about 75 minutes.

Hotel Del Luna (2019) it would be unfair to talk about Goblin, without talking about this other masterpiece about a being cursed into immortality and granted special availabilities along with it, but a curse is still a curse, and she must run a hotel meant for ghosts, where after centuries of being, meets a young man who is alive. Availability on Viki, 16 episodes long and each one lastz about 75 minutes.

Tale of the Nine Tailed (2020) You get to see Lee Dong Wook as another mystical being, and Kim Bum is his half brother. 16 episodes long and one special, each one lasting about 65 minutes. Available on Viki.

My roommate is a Gumiho (2021) what's up with gumihos? It's still airing. The title is self explanatory. Available on Viki and Qiyi.

Angel's last mission: Love (2019) is a cute and sad story about an angel who is about to ascend and a ballerina who has a cynical view of the world. Available on Viki. Each episode averages 30 minutes, with 32 episodes.

Doom at your service (2021) About to finish airing. It tells the story of a dying woman who wishes doom upon the world, and the doom who answers her plea. Available on viki, 16 episodes long, each one lasting about an hour.

The Scholar Who walks the night (2015) another Lee Joon Gi entry, but I swear all of his works are great, it's a period drama that tells the story of a scholar who is a vampire and the young bookseller he meets. It's 20 episodes long, each one lasting about an hour. Available on viki. Also, if you've liked Lee Soo Hyuk in Doom at Your Service, I advise you check this one out.

Tale of Arang (2012) two Lee Joon Gi entries in a row? Girl, you have to stop. Anyways, this one is another period piece of a magistrate who can see ghosts and the ghost of a young woman who doesn't remember her life, nor the cause of her death. Available on viki, it's 20 episodes long, each one lasting a little over an hour.

Look, those are fine or whatever, but I started as a K-pop fan, where can I see some idol dramas? Don't worry, I came prepared

Full House (2004) with Rain as the main character is the og idol drama in my opinion. Available on Viki. 16 episodes long, each one lasting about 73 minutes.

Imitation (2021) is currently airing, and it's literally an idol drama about idols. You can find a looot of idols too: Jeong Yun Ho and Park Seong Hwa from Ateez, Chani and Hwi Young from SF9, Park Ji Yeon from T-ara, Lim Na Young from I.O.I and Pristin, and although Jeong Ji So is not an idol, she is the main lead, and I absolutely love her, she's also in Doom at your service. Available on Viki.

Miss Panda and Mr. Hedgehog (2012) features Donghae from Super Junior, and if I'm going to recommend a Super Junior drama, I would rather recommend one featuring him over Siwon.

At a Distance the Spring is Green (2021) is currently airing too, and only has four released episodes, but I've liked it so far. Featuring Park Ji Hoon, and Kwon Dun Bin. Also, I have a lot of opinions about this show. Available on Viki.

I was going to put an IU drama but, all her dramas are good, so go and watch them all, the woman has range.

Dream High (2011) is the king of idol dramas, in my opinion. It talksa about a high school for people who want to be idols. Another one with a long line up of idols, so let me start: Suzy, IU, Taecyeon, Nichkhun and Wooyoung from 2PM, Ham Eun Jung from T-ara. Leeteuk (SuJu and Chansung (2PM) make cameos. Similarly to Imitation, Kim Soo Hyun is not an idol, but he's the main lead. It's 16 episodes long, each one lasting about 65 minutes. Available on Viki.

Wow, quite a few, but they all seem rather popular, do you have some underrated gems? I'm going to have to go down memory lane, but I do

The Queen's Classroom (2013) This one feels like a fever dream, because I'm aware it exists, I watched it back when it first aired, but I can't find it anywhere now. It's based on a Japanese drama of the same name. It's about a strict but warm hearted teacher and her students' lives and struggles. 16 episodes long. DM me if you find anywhere to watch it.

1% of Something (2016) is a really cute drama, the chemistry is off the charts, and if you're looking for skinship, this one is the one for you, underrated arranged marriage kdrama, I'm telling you. It's 16 episodes long, averaging 45 minutes, and it's on Viki.

I'm not a Robot (2017) has a really cute plot, not underrated per se, but not hyped enough. It's 32 episodes long, each one averaging 30 minutes. Available on Viki.

Do you like Brahms? (2020) is a music themed kdrama, really cute and wholesome. If you like 2setviolin and watched their critique on their YouTube channel, let me tell you, the cast actually knows how to play violin and stuff, and there's an actual child prodigy in there. It got so much hate bc of that one yt video. It's 16 episode long, each one lasting about an hour. Available on Viki.

Solomon's Perjury (2016) a good reflection on youth and the pressure society has. 12 episodes long, lasting about 63 minutes each. Available on Viki.

The Greatest Love (2011) is a super entertaining TV show, and just supper funny and cute. 16 episodes long, each one lasting around 65 minutes. Available on Viki.

Two Cops (2017) if you like Kim Seon Ho, I think this was his TV acting debut. It's a hilarious action comedy TV show. 32 episodes long, lasting around 30 minutes. Available on viki.

Do you have any recommendations where time traveling or time is central to the story?

Alice (2020) look, I can't give you a full explanation because it's too mind bending. Let's leave it at detective meets his mother. Available on Viki.

Signal (2016) The premise is similar to that of the movie Frequency (2000) in which there's communication between the past and the present via technology. The plot is based on the real Hwaseong serial murders. Really interesting. Available on Netflix. If you like the premise of communicating with the past via technology Call (2020) is a Korean thriller movie available on Netflix.

Chicago Typewriter (2017) this one is about reincarnation but we get to see both timelines. Available on Netflix.

Tomorrow with you (2017) Time-traveling but make it ✨depressing ✨. The story of a man who time travels, and how that ability messes with his marriage. Available on Netflix.

What about historical dramas? I don't really watch those, but here are some I liked

The Moon Embracing the Sun (2012) is one of the few I've finished. It's really good, it follows the love story of a king. Available on viki. 20 episodes long, each one lasting about an hour.

Gunman in Joseon (2014) Am I recommending you this one because of Lee Joon Gi? Maybe. It has 22 episodes, each one lasting about an hour. Available on Viki.

The Crowned Clown (2019) a story of the Prince and the Pauper if I must give you a description that is relatable, but if you know the book titled Skogland, it's closer to that. It's 16 episodes long, each one lasting about 80 minutes. Available on Viki.

I'm a little ashamed to say this, but do you have any BL? I do, I do

To My Star (2021) is a story about an actor and a chef, and how they learn to cohabit after the actor is forced into hiding. You can watch either the movie version or the drama version, both available on viki.

Color Rush (2020) is a modern romance fantasy about people called Monos who can't see any color unless they meet their Probes, however this may turn dangerous as the Monos may experience obsessive behavior, so what happens when a young high schooler meets his probe?. You can either watch it on its drama or movie version. Both available on viki. By the way, if you're a long time deobi and was wandering what happened to Hwall, he's one of the main leads.

You Make Me Dance (2021) follows the story of a university dancer who is in debt and his debt collector. Available on viki in both versions. The movie is 107 minutes long.

Just Friends (2009) is a short film, but ahead of its time, if you can't tell by the year it was released on. It's a cute story about a man who visits his boyfriend in the military. I found it in dramacool.

That's all from me, if you have any specific genre or them you felt I didn't add in, do feel free to tell me.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties!! here is the long awaited part 9!! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did whilst writing it!! a big thank you goes to @emwritesfootball for proofing this part & making sure its up to scratch for all of you lovely readers! Let me know what you think babes hehehe!! Love Always, Steph xx

Part 9. | nona parte

word count; 2006. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Friday 13/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

The season kicked off in the middle of August and Amelia had been more than prepared for her first match in the premier league. She spent day after day analysing the players in the first team, introducing them to the magical world of rehearsed tactics. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the brilliant girl; she had to learn how to implement the plays coupled with the speed of the game. But so far, so good. Chelsea have been winning and her plays have been working, the boys were getting the hang of it - no matter how apprehensive they were at the start.

Jorgi played a big part in demonstrating the success of the play, performing best in his midfield role to guide the game and direct the change in play to his teammates. By the time they had played a few fixtures, they had really gotten the hang of her approach to set pieces and began to put their trust in the young girl. They were starting to see results and wanted to keep the winning streak going while they could. The fourth fixture in the new season was one that Amelia was looking forward to, personally: Chelsea v Aston Villa, Stamford Bridge, 3pm kick off.

Jack and Amelia had grown closer and closer, FaceTime‘dates’ as Jack would call them, a weekly occurrence. She had spoken to him just as much as she had spoken to Jorgi - and they were still carpooling to and from Cobham together. Her friendship with Jack was full of easy conversation and flirtatious banter, teetering over the line of friendship but being that they were kept physically apart, the friendship line remained largely intact. One person that had drifted even further away from her, despite her believing that it couldn't be possible, was Ben Chilwell.

Every time she walked into a room that he was in, if he didn't have to be there he would immediately leave. Amelia didn’t understand what the problem was. Yeah sure, they were flirty together in Mykonos but they never crossed a line together, no matter how many times the wine went straight to their heads. If anything, she should be the one running away from him. She was the one who sent him a couple of messages here and there that he just opened. She spoke to Mason, Jorgi, Billy Gilmour - who was another one of the boys she had developed a strong friendship with - and all of them insisted they didn’t understand their friend's strange behaviour.

On the evening before the Villa match, Amelia was laying on the couch in her townhouse binge watching yet another docu-series on Netflix when her doorbell rang. This was strange, most people that came past the house these days had their own set of keys (her parents, her brother, Jorgi) or they texted to let her know they were outside. Her townhouse was three stories high, so if she was upstairs on the top level vacuuming the chances of her hearing the door were slim to none. Either way, she got up off of her loveseat  and walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole - she lived in London, alone, she wasn’t opening that door until she knew exactly who was on the other side.

______________________________________________________________

“To what do I owe this visit, Benjamin?”

“Hi, Mils.”

“Wow, nickname basis already - I thought only friends called each other by their nicknames.”

“Did you think we weren’t friends?”

“Well, friends don’t treat friends the way you’ve treated me since the evening I left Mykonos.”

With a sigh, Ben looked down at his feet. I did feel a small bit of guilt for that one, but he deserved it. Continuing to find the cracks in the marble step of my door’s threshold more interesting than facing my expression, I took a step back and forced Ben to look up at me.

“Well, are you going to come inside? I’ve got the kettle on and a really good series going that I would like to get back to.”

With a charming smile, Ben took a step forward, took the door handle out of my hand and shut it behind him. Slipping out of his shoes, he followed me down the short hallway to my kitchen and pulled a seat out at the island bench.

“So, really now - why are you here? Nervous about tomorrow?” I questioned as I took two cups out of the cupboard and brewed one tea for him, one coffee for me. 3 years in Italy and coffee in the evening became the norm for me. It was my comfort drink.

“I’m here to apologise for the way I've been acting towards you for the past six weeks. I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I’ve been like this”

“Cut the crap Ben, you know exactly why you’ve been doing it. Now tell me the truth or, as far as I'm concerned, you never came here tonight and tomorrow we will be back to how we were yesterday - you running away from me and me pretending that it doesn't bother me. Even though all it does is bother me.” Not expecting that outburst to come out of me, and to be fair neither did I, Ben looked me in the eye and stayed silent, choosing his next words carefully.

“The first time I saw you, the night you told your brother off in the rec room at St. George’s Park, I thought you were the most determined woman I had ever seen in my life. Not scared of the 30 grown men who were very obviously all on the same side, literally. Then the next time I saw you, after the final match, how you comforted your brother when you were at the highest of highs and he was lower than low, I thought you had more compassion than every person in that stadium put together.”

“When you came to SGP again the next day and delivered the tactical analysis of the game you won, I thought ‘wow she is so intellectually brilliant’. And then when you turned up in Mykonos, all sunkissed and relaxed, sitting next to me and involving me in conversation with my pals but making me feel like you wanted my contribution...I remember it like it was yesterday. Amelia, you smiled at me and my heart did a somersault in my chest.”

“You shut me down outside the club that evening, and when we came back inside I caught the end of your conversation with Jorgi about Fede. Putting two and two together, I understood all that I needed to. The few days after that we carried on like normal. Then, you left and I didn't know if I would ever see you again to be fair. When you messaged me, I got too nervous to reply because I didn't know how to just be your friend. And then when I thought I had finally gotten through a day without thinking about my friend's little sister, you showed up at Cobham as my tactical analyst. I didn’t know what to do Mils, I don't know how to be just your friend when I've had nothing but unfriendly thoughts about you since the first time I saw you command that room of men you had never met in your life.”

The whistle of the kettle ringing out behind me is the only noise filling the kitchen. I’m staring at Ben; he’s staring back at me with nothing but truth behind his eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

“Benj, what you were feeling, what you are feeling is totally valid and I never want you to feel like you can’t share those feelings with me. You’re right, Mykonos changed things for me. What you were feeling was reciprocated, but Ben, I was going back to Italy. At that exact moment, I had no idea I would end up here. I thought I was enjoying a break before another high-intensity season in Italy. I wanted to kiss you so badly at the club that night, but I knew it would only hurt you. I’m used to being hurt, it's a feeling I've grown to expect. But you, you’re too pure to experience the kind of hurt that comes along with knowing you’re making a bad decision, but doing it anyway, because I wanted to be selfish with your heart.”

“Amelia, can I ask you something?” I nodded, holding my breath as I braced myself for the question poised behind his eyes. “If you were in the mood to be selfish, what would have come from that evening?”

“I can probably show you better than I can tell you,”

Walking around the island bench, I pulled the back of Ben’s chair slightly so he pivoted towards me. Standing in between his tracksuit-covered legs, I ran both hands up his arms until I got to his neck and finally beside his face. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face towards mine and our lips met. It was as soft as a butterfly kiss but as powerful as anything I had ever felt before. His hands wound around my waist and settled themselves on the small of my back before travelling down and giving my backside a gentle caress, forcing a laugh out of my lips and straight into his mouth. Pulling away slightly, so we both had a bit of breathing space to sort out our lightheadedness, Ben spoke his next words very softly.

“I need you to promise me something, Amelia.You need to promise me that you will stop thinking about my heart before your own. I am old enough to make my own decisions, and the decision to ignore you for these past few weeks has been one of the worst ones I've made in a really long time. But I did make it, and it was because I got scared, and I hurt you, and I am so sorry. The decision to come here tonight however, I feel like it more than makes up for that one very very stupid one”

“You’re such a smooth talker, Benj.”

“Say my name again, Mils, you don’t know what it does to me.”

“Down boy, your tea is going cold and I need to find out who killed Sophie in West Cork.Meet me in the lounge.”

A few hours had passed and it was nearing 10pm, well past Amelia’s bed time, but Ben was still sitting on her couch, feet on the table (despite her telling him to remove them) and arm around the back of her shoulders.

“Chilly, I don’t want you to think I'm not interested in you because I so am, I just don’t want to rush into anything. What I left behind in Italy was complicated and heavy; I'm still trying to learn how to exist without him if I'm honest. I want you to just give me the space I need to grow into my own here in the city, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay, Mils. From what Jorgi has told me about Fede, I can understand why you want to take it slow now. But please, don’t call me Chilly. My friends call me Chilly, and Mills. I thought I made it clear before that I don’t want to be your friend.”

“To me, you’re Benj. Thank you. Wait - what do you mean what Jorgi has told you about Fede?”

“I may have asked a couple times about you, and for the record, he is team Bamelia.”

“Bamelia? That is the ugliest word I have ever heard. Never use it again.”

“How can it be ugly? It's mostly your name, and nothing associated with you could ever be considered anything less than beautiful.”

“Stop being so smooth Benj, you’re going to make me blush in a minute.”

“Good, can’t wait to see how you could possibly look even cuter than you do right now.”

“That’s enough Benjamin.”

“Okay I’m done now.”

Part 10. | parte dieci

[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

Lady in Gold

It’s just a date at the Neue Galerie. That’s all it is, right?

Rating: M

Word count; 3,062

Warning/Includes: fluffy fluff, exhibitionism, slight choking, fingering, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink if you squint I guess?!

A satin tea dress, a mellow golden. It flowed to just below your knees, and it had been paired with nude block sandals. A simple yet elegant jewelled clip held a side of your hair back and you felt.. beautiful. This date had been planned for a while, he had said to meet him on the corner of 5th and 86th Street; you would look out for him, he would be in a brown suit. The night was young, the sun just beginning to set over the skyline. You’d wonder if he would be there earlier than you, or if he was barely going to come at all. These must be normal nerves, the churning feeling flowing around your stomach; it was just a date.

Clement and peaceful, the last streams of daylight laid upon your skin as you leant against a tree outside the building. Skimming your eyes against the array of people departing and arriving at the gallery; they finally landed on the tall figure ambling towards you. A soft smile, reflective aviator glasses and the brown suit. It was him. His own masterpiece, he gave a small wave as he grew closer. The faint scents of coconut, coffee and cologne overwhelmed your senses as you managed to stutter out a soft ‘Hi Matthew’.

‘Y/N hey! I’m glad you found this place okay, sometimes people end up on the wrong end of the mile.’ he exclaimed, waving behind him at the never ending street.

‘I’m that person, what should’ve been a 15 minute walk turned out a hell of a lot longer.’ you giggled out.

‘Well hey, we made it in time for the private slot, should we head inside?’ you nodded, and intertwined your arm around the one he held out for you. There was a way that he held you tightly against his side that felt as though you were fragile and he didn’t want you to fall and break. As he mentioned to one of the guards inside you were here for a private viewing, you couldn’t help but stare up at him with veneration. A king couldn’t hold the grace and charm he could.

You’d been meandering for a while, stopping to talk about Werkstätte accessories and admiring the vintage fashion. You were excited to get to the portraits. A favourite of yours was on display, Klimt’s portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer. Filled to the brim with facts and knowledge on his art, there was a passion in your eyes as you tugged his arm towards the exhibition you’d been waiting for. Placing your clutch bag on a nearby seat you almost skipped up to the portrait.

‘Wow,’ you breathed out, ‘it’s even more beautiful than I imagined. The gold just hits different when it’s not on a phone screen huh.’

He stood behind you a few steps, observing and listening to your spirited words and facts. The way you vehemently expressed yourself started to get into his bloodstream, every time you said something new, turned to look back at him; goosebumps arose across his forearms and the back of his neck. He sauntered quietly and slowly closer to you, gently placing a hand on each of your hips. Inhaling abruptly, you didn’t stop exuding truths about the painting before you.

[[MORE]]

‘The painting was handed down to Adeles family members, but the Nazis stole it in 1941. After quite a long journey through multiple agencies, it was bought in 2006 and displayed. I’m literally speechless that it’s in front of me - ah!’ Matthew had pulled your hair to one side as you were speaking, slowly leaving open mouthed kisses to your exposed neck. His grip had tightened on your hips, subsequently beginning to run one hand up your body; the fingers coming up to grip your chin and turning your head to look back at him.

‘Do you know how beautiful you sound?’ he muttered, eyes travelling from your glossed lips up to meet yours. Maybe two centimetres between each set of lips and breath fanning against each other had changed the mood immediately. ‘It, uh, it really is my favourite piece. I could stay here and look at it - all- all night.’ Stumbling over your words, you kept your gaze on Matthew, as he lowered his hand a little; the slender yet gentle fingers contradicting themselves by squeezing the sides of your throat slightly.

‘I could say the same thing about you. This pretty dress, on such a pretty girl. I know which lady in gold I’d rather stare at.’ Smiling gently, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours, breathing getting deeper when you whimper against his mouth.

Reaching your arm behind you to hold the back of his head, his other arm held you flush against him. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t rough; but it was a higher level of passionate that you wouldn’t usually show in such a public area. You wondered if there was a subtle message in Matthew reserving the museum for a private tour, instead of the romantic gesture it had seemed to be.

‘Was this your plan the whole time? To win me over with my favourite art and fuck me in the middle of the gallery?’ you breathed out, pushing back into him and curving your hips upwards into his. The satin of your dress was thin enough to feel the coarseness of his trousers and the cool metal of the belt holding them up. Matthew’s breath hitched beside your ear and he bit down on your lobe. Quickly clutching at your hips again, he ground his hips down into you and mustered out a small grunt at the contact. ‘I bet you’d like that huh? Already pushing up against me, needy little thing.’

The quiet moan that left your lips woke you up out of the sudden delirium you had fallen into, remembering where you were. ‘We’ll get into trouble.’ Matthew let out a condescending chuckle into your ear, a hand beginning to ruche the fabric upwards at the front of your dress. ‘Your body tells me you aren’t at all that worried, y/n. I bet you won’t feel as worried once I bring my fingers a little higher hm?’ He read your body language like a book. You were leaning into him, your hips bucking and following his hands. You were completely under his spell, entranced by the gentle but somehow rough feel of his fingers growing closer and closer to where you wanted him. Until he pulled them away.

‘No fuck please-‘ whining, you turned around to see why the sudden halt on his movements. He’d walked a few steps backward to the leather spectator couch in the middle of the room, sat down with legs spread; watching to see if you’d get the hint. ‘Come and sit on my lap baby. I want you to be comfortable when you’re talking.’ He smirked, knowing full well his actions were going to cause your brain to falter and words to fade away. Slowly walking towards him, you lifted your dress slightly to be able to straddle yourself across his lap; frowning when he spoke a stern, ‘no.’ He wiggled his finger in a circle, indicating he wanted you to face away from him.

Two could play at this teasing game.

Spinning around gently, you still lifted your dress before sitting down on him, giving him a slight peek of the white lace garments underneath. Judging by the way he pulled your hips down hard against him, you knew he saw the underwear. Leaning your back against his chest, he flopped his chin against your shoulder and gave a sweet peck on your cheek. All of these cute gestures couldn’t foreshadow the sheer vulgarity of what he was about to do; if there had been anyone in the room with you, they would’ve thought you two were adorable. He leant back, pulling you with him and the front of your dress up to mid-thigh. Trailing his fingers underneath the thin, yellow material, he ran his middle digit along your slit, feeling the damp patch that had formed on the even thinner lace. ‘I knew it. Filthy little slut. Was it me or Klimt who did this huh?’ he chuckled, gripping your hip when you tried to push against his finger. All you could let out was pathetic whines, and attempt to manoeuvre his finger inside you.

‘Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you sweetheart. You were spitting out facts a minute ago, where have all your words gone?’ he said, the condescending tone not helping your situation at all. ‘Please, I need, fuck, I need your fingers Matthew please.’ you begged, head falling back into his shoulder and hands gripping his arm that was around your waist. ‘Wow, you managed to ask so nicely too. Good girl.’ The sudden dominance he portrayed had you completely at his mercy, feeling nothing but a dull throbbing inside that you knew he could provoke. Stroking up and down your lips slightly to gather up your essence, he hooked his middle finger inside you so deep, so harshly you mewled out loudly; Matthew promptly covering your mouth and smiling into your hair. He nudged his index finger into you, curling the two together up against the spot that made your legs tighten around his wrist. He pulled them back open again and held them in that position, trusting you to be quiet. He wasn’t messing around; quick to thrust and curve his fingers upwards until your thighs began to shake against his arm. ‘Shit Matthew, i’m close already, please.’ you tried unsuccessfully to say it quietly, but the feeling he brought you came on so intensely you felt he needed warning. ‘Fuck yes, you’re so good to me. Letting me play with your pretty cunt right here in the open. Are you gonna come for me? I want you to fucking break baby. Come.’ He sped up his fingers, the wiggle of his fingertips against the spot, mixed with his palm grinding against your clit; the uncivilised words he growled into your ear had you gone. The hand returned to your mouth as you moaned and whimpered too loudly, bucking against his fingers, arching your back and gripping your fingernails into his legs as you came.

Matthew bit his lip and smiled into your neck as he drew out your orgasm, cock at its hardest as he felt your cunt tightening sporadically around his fingers. He needed you here and now. This beautiful woman spread across his lap, desperate and needy under his touch. How tight you got when you released onto his hand, the way you breathed out his name. If he could take you like that in this room, he’ll take you on his cock now too. Withdrawing his fingers from you and abruptly pushing them into you mouth, he pushed your hips forward a little so he could pull himself out of his trousers. You’d barely recovered from the intensity of the orgasm when you tasted yourself on your tongue, moaning around his fingers and curling your tongue around the tips. ‘Gonna take you right here baby, can’t wait anymore. Can you lift your dress a little higher for me?’ Trembling out a moan, you bunched your dress up around your hips, letting the spare material fall to the front so as not to expose yourself too much, which seemed ridiculous given the previous activity. ‘That’s it pretty girl. Sit yourself down on me, I want you to take as much as you can okay?’ the condescension had left his voice this time, his voice had become lower and exuded urgency.

Matthew lifted up your hips whilst you balanced your hands on his knees, bringing your legs together in between his. He grasped the base of his cock, pulling the lace to the side before coating himself in you. Pressing against your hole, wanting you to do the rest. You gasped as you glided down onto him, the lips parting and taking him in entirely. He was so thick and hard, you had to wiggle your hips side to side to fit him inside. ‘Shit, you’re so fucking big Matthew. Can’t take it all.’ He was just past halfway and already you felt so full. Matthew’s eyes had hooded and glazed over watching your pretty pussy taking him in, he ran a hand over your exposed cheek and gripped it tightly, pulling you down further.

‘Yes you fucking can, you can and you will. I know you can do it baby. Make me feel good, that’s it.’ You cried softly as he had you bear down completely on him. He was fully inside you, pushing against your cervix. It felt so good even just sitting still on him, let alone the pleasure it brought when you pulled up and back down again. His hands pushed and pulled you back and forth slowly and gently onto him, hitting special parts of you with every thrust. ‘Matthew please, please I just-‘ ‘Please what baby? Fuck-‘ ‘I just want you to fuck me properly please.’

He purred out a deep moan and laid back against the couch, you laid flat upon his chest again. He spread his legs a little more to give him leeway to fuck up into you easier, the pace at an allegro. Rolling his eyes back and biting his lip, he couldn’t get over the entire position you were both in. This wasn’t discreet anymore; no one could see where the two of your bodies met, but he was fucking up into you so hard, one arm wrapped tightly around your stomach, your head against his shoulder with the other hand covering your mouth. It was obvious this man was fucking this woman in the middle of an exhibition, in a gallery in New York. ‘God you feel so fucking tight around me, I can’t hold on much longer. You close for me?’ He sputtered out into your ear, looking at your face to see you nodding and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. ‘Want you to rub that pretty clit for me, make yourself come on my cock. Use me, I’m all yours baby.’ he said through gritted teeth, growing closer and closer to just letting go. He wanted to feel those spasms around his cock before he did though. You held onto the hand over your mouth, and used your other hand to rub quick and hard circles on your clit, teetering on the edge. Tears began to line the brim of your eyes, everything becoming super overwhelming. Being fucked in front of your favourite painting, out in public, by the sexiest man you’d ever seen and felt, the strength of how he held onto you, pushed into you had you right there.

‘You’re right there baby, I can feel it. Let it fucking go for me, good girl, that’s it.’ The deep, raspy voice in your ear was all you needed to burst out in pleasure. You rubbed faster, matching his thrusts just as your body shuddered against his, your toes curling in the heels, your moans being muffled by his hand. ‘Fuck baby, that’s it, what a good fucking girl coming on my cock like this, you’re gonna make me fucking explode baby.’ Matthew grunted into your ear, bucking up harder but sloppily as he reached his peak. You pulled his hand away and turned to meet his eyes; his pupils dilated beyond belief, hair messy where you’d tugged on it before, lips swollen where he’d bitten them so hard trying to keep quiet. God he was so hot. ‘Come inside me Matthew, please. Come inside me, I’m yours to fill please, fuck I need to feel you like that please.’

Quiet but desperate moans and cries left his mouth once you begged him for his come, his hand gripping your face as he brought your lips to his, silencing himself as he spilled inside you. He hadn’t come this much in a while, but the way you told him you needed it brought it out of him. Your lips were pressed together so hard, more of a muzzle than a kiss. The feeling of him slightly spilling out of you made you involuntarily clench tighter, maybe a natural instinct to want to keep him where he belongs. Matthew slumped back, his head dropping onto the black leather. ‘Let’s hope this stays in hm?’ after a few minutes absorbing what you’d just done, you spoke quietly, slowly going to stand up off of him. Smiling lazily, he let out a hiss when his cock slid out of you, falling onto his stomach, still slick with the mixture of you both. Adjusting your underwear and smoothing out your dress, you watched as he tucked himself away, sitting himself up properly and running his hands through his hair. He grabbed your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs, eyes shining with love and admiration as he looked up at you. ‘You really are so beautiful, y/n. Nothing in this gallery compares to you.’ Matthew whispered, stroking his thumbs out across your hands. You blushed and lost eye contact for a second, gazing at the artwork sprawled across each wall.

‘Thank you. I think one thing could make me a lot more beautiful though.’ You smiled and glanced towards your bag. Matthew imitated your smirk and grabbed it, pulling out the two sets of rings inside. The two of you slotting them back where they belonged on each other’s hands, you kept a tight grip on Matthew’s hand as he stood up in front of you. Twiddling with the wedding rings on your finger, you looked up at him beaming. ‘Much better actually, Mrs Gubler. Let’s go grab something to eat?’ he held out his arm the same way he did walking you in, except this time it was mostly to aid you in walking because you were staggering a little.

As you passed the guard who’d let you both in, Matthew turned back towards him. ‘Thank you for helping us out tonight. Can officially say we crossed a few things off our date night list.’

Slapping his arm, you dragged him away blushing profusely. It left you thinking; What would the next date night entail?

[pocketfulofrogers]

Everything Comes Back to You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean can count on one hand the amount of weaknesses he has. Despite his every effort to keep his distance over the years in an effort to keep you safe, he find himself at your door a few too many times. Everything changes when it you who calls him.

Notes: My first supernatural piece! A story told through many years.

September 14, 1996

There were few things you despised more in this world than calculus. The lecture had drug on and on, monotone and continuous, until you felt like you could scream. A miracle of reprieve came when the door opened and in walked a boy who seemed to glide on charisma. He made some kind of offhand joke and flashed a smirk that had half the girls already in his palm.

For you, it was what you saw in his eyes that drew you to him. Something akin to the pieces you kept buried deep within you.

December 22, 1996

You’re sweet, unbelievably so. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. It’s so easy for Dean to bury himself in you, forget about everything that isn’t in this bed. You had been the solace he didn’t know he had been searching for- offering just a few moments of peace in this life he had no say in.

Most days he believes you may be the light that will save him, other days he believes it unfair to ask such a thing of you.

You nuzzle into his chest and his arms around you tighten. “What are you thinking about?” You ask.

Maybe it’s how tired he is, running between the motel to check on Sammy and darting straight back to the comforts of this bedroom that has him feeling so unnaturally mushy. You’d say it’s the Christmas spirit looming in the air, threatening to infect him with just a bit of joy.

You did love Christmas, and he loved you.

But love was not something he was allowed in this life - stability never something he’d known. Dean knew the drill all too well. The moment he allows himself to plant any semblance of roots, it’ll be time to load the Impala and disappear. Kansas may have been home once, but it isn’t home now.

Still, he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

Sometimes his mind wonders to what his life could be if he were to just ask you to run away with him. Leave this little town and never look back. No more hunting, no more fighting, just wonderful, uncomplicated, boring life. Life with you.

He’s never met a hunter that’s successfully left the life, though. The longer you knew him, the higher the chances got for you to get caught in the crossfire and he’d never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

You’re silently watching him, waiting for a response to a question he had already forgotten.

“I should go check on Sam.”

April 18, 2002

“You gave my address to who? Mom, just because someone says they knew me doesn’t mean you should tell them where I live! It doesn’t matter if he seemed like a ‘wonderful young man’ you know there are things out there.” You’re pacing in your living room now, tempted to grab your shotgun.

“Oh, Y/N, stop it with that nonsense. He had a photo of you and now he’s on his way.” Your mother dismisses you.

You groan and toss your head back. “Well hopefully you can describe what he looked like to the cops when they find me-“

Then a car pulls up, engine roaring and rock music blasting. You knew that car, you knew it well. Sneaking up to the window, you take a peek around the curtains and see the sleek black Impala. A man gets out, the leather jacket he’s wearing tickles a memory long buried.

It isn’t until you see his face that it settles in- butterflies swimming in deep rooted anger. The boy who left you with nothing but an aching hole and a postcard with no return address was all grown up and damn if he didn’t look good.

“Gotta go.” You hang up the phone.

When he knocks, you brace yourself- scrounge up all the will-power you have so you can kick him out. There will be no apologies or pleasantries. No sir. None. Not one.

But Dean’s always been one step ahead of you, so, he’s quick to start when you open the door- death glare only momentarily stalling him. “Listen, I know-“

“Get back in your car and go home.”

“Just hear me out for a minute.” He pleads.

You want to tell him to go, you really do, but one glance at those green eyes and every fiber of your being is pleading for you to just wait. Call it hope, call it weakness, call it a desperate need for some form of closure, you let him in.

Narrowing your eyes, you ask him, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

You hate how that almost settles your anger, how after all these years he still had some ridiculous hold on you. “How can you possibly believe I would want to see you after what you did? That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, Dean.”

“I know, I know. I’m also here to apologize. I should have said more-“

“More?” You interrupt exasperated. “Please tell me you did not come all this way to ask me to absolve you of your guilt.”

“That’s not-“

“Because you showed up on my doorstep, asked me to pack a bag and run away with you- leave my life and everything I’ve ever known to go who knows where with you. And then, when the sun rose in the morning, you were gone.”

“You hadn’t exactly been happy with me.” He tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but you know what I did that night? I packed a stupid bag and waited for hours in front of that stupid diner. Waiting and waiting, but you never showed! You just left me! Know what I got out of it? A postcard from Topeka with a half assed ‘I’m sorry’ written on it.”

He falters under your gaze. “Y/N, I am sorry. I really am.”

“I just want to know why, Dean.” Your voice falls and he can no longer meet your eyes. “Come on, there are a million excuses. You couldn’t leave Sam, you couldn’t leave you dad, you didn’t actually love me. Just pick one so I can move on.”

“I did love you.” He bites back.

“Then what, you couldn’t leave the life?”

His eyebrows furrow as he takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “I was young but I wasn’t stupid. The family business wasn’t sales, Dean.” His eyes widen. “People started disappearing right before you and your family showed up. They stop disappearing and then all of a sudden, you’re gone. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until I met another hunter a few years later that I knew for sure.”

He makes his way into your living room and you want to ask what gave him the idea that you wanted him in your home.

“If you know about that side of this world, then how can you blame me for wanting to protect you from it?”

Of all of the reasons you had come up with as to why the boy you thought was the love of your life had left you high and dry, this wasn’t one. Had he truly loved you? Had he weighed his heart and your life to determine which he valued most? You can’t tell if that idea hurt more than the rest.

“Who were you to make that decision for me?”

“Who are you to expect me not to have?”

It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. Dean rakes his fingers through his hair and your arms tighten across your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. None of it. He wasn’t supposed to have left you destroyed, calling out for him in the middle of the night. You were supposed to have moved on, supposed to have said goodbye to the boy with so much sadness in his eyes and so much love in his heart.

You never really do forget your first, though, do you?

He sighs, drawing your attention back to him, and pulls his gaze from the ceiling. “This isn’t what I came for.”

You tighten your arms across your chest and take a step closer, then another. “Do enlighten me, then. What are you really here for?” You’re dangerously close now, a breath away and Dean can barely think. “What is it you want?”

You look up at him and in a second he’s gone, just like that first day. It’s nostalgic and painful and warm all at once. How was it you still had this power over him?

“You.” He breathes out.

October 14, 2006

“Hey, uh, Fairmont? That’s close to Eudora, right?” Dean asks, trying so hard to seem casual.

Sam peaks around the bathroom door, noticing his brother has been ‘cleaning’ the same weapon for the last thirty minutes, and raises a brow. “Yeah, not too far.” Dean just hums. “What’s in Eudora?”

“Huh? Oh nothing, just thought a detour would be nice with everything going on.”

Sam spits his toothpaste into the sink. “Didn’t we spend a Christmas there?”

Dean stalls. “Well, you know, we moved around so much it’s hard to tell when we were anywhere, really. I couldn’t-“

“No, no, I’m sure we did. I had that English teacher that snored through Shakespeare.”

“Your memory is definitely better than mine, I couldn’t tell you much about-“

“And there was that girl, gosh, what was her name again?” Sam prompts his brother, already knowing the answer.

“There’s been so many girls, Sam, can’t expect me to remember all of their names.” Dean chuckles nervously.

The flop sweat on Dean’s forehead is almost reward enough, but hearing him sputter and flail was just too good for Sam to give up.

“She had the hair and the mom, liked Christmas.” Dean stutters again. “Oh right! Y/N! Aka the girl who’s name you say in your sleep on a weekly basis.” Now he’s red. “How long has it been man? If you could’ve made it work, you would’ve. What’d she say when you saw her last?”

Suddenly the floor is very interesting to Dean. “That I can’t keep coming in and out of her life.”

“That’s all the closure you’re going to get, Dean, take it.”

October 18, 2006

Work had been the worst. The only thing you wanted was a bubble bath and a huge glass of wine. The last thing you expected when you finally reached your driveway was Dean Winchester sitting on your porch, but of course, with the cluster fuck of today, this might as well happen.

You take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of your car.

“Heard you took down a Rougarou in Tennessee. Thought you said you didn’t want a part of this life.” He raises a brow and you can’t tell if it’s an accusation or an ‘I told you so’ moment.

“Was there for business, it was just good timing. Guess you were right, though, can’t just sit by.” You shrug. He looks like he’s waiting for something, something you’re sure you can’t give him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, sounding more tired than upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we had a case nearby and Sammy told me no, but next thing I know I’m in my car and then I’m here. Really, it’s your fault. Should’ve moved.”

You snort. “And you wouldn’t have found me?” He only shrugs. “What is it you want, Dean?”

“A friend?”

“You drove all the way out here for a friend?”

“Guess you could say I’m in short supply.”

You look him up and down, noticing the bags beneath his eyes and something in you aches for him. Of course, you had heard about the passing of John, that may be the very reason he’s here, but knowing Dean, it’s not a subject he wants to touch.

Ten years later and you can still read him.

“Fine, but don’t ask me to run away with you.” You tease. “Twice is enough for this lifetime.”

June 16, 2013

Dean is in the middle of another argument with Sam trying to defend the importance of bacon when his phone rings. Sam’s dramatic sigh of relief earns an eye roll from his brother.

“Dean Winchester.” He answers, but he can’t hear anything on the other end. “Hello?” He tries again and this time he makes out heavy breathing. “Who is this?”

“Dean.” His name barely slips from your lips and to his ears before you groan.

He leans forward quick enough to earn concern from Sam. “Where are you?”

“Sound stressed.” You chuckle before sputtering.

“Y/N, tell me where are you.” His voice is the kind of calm that would usually send ice through your veins, but right now you were struggling just to keep your eyes open.

“Not sure.” Your speech is slurred and the panic Sam sees in his brother’s eyes drives his fingers faster as he works on a trace.

“How bad is it?”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Dammit, Y/N, not the time. Where are you hurt?”

“Broken ribs, I think. This gash in my side seems a little alarming.” You squint down at it trying to determine if your blurry vision was a result of the gapping wound or the nice blow to the head you took. “Objectively, all very bad.” You mumble.

Dean is over Sam’s shoulder now and if he hadn’t looked as terrified as he did right now, Sam would be making a less than funny comment about it.

“Were you on a hunt?” His voice is still cool, but he begins to waiver when he has to strain to hear your confirmation. “Is it still after you?” He has to press the question two more times before he gets a response, by then he’s already started the Impala.

“Finished him ‘for he finished me.”

“Y/N, were on our way.” Dean grits out. “You just hold on a little longer and we’ll get you all patched up.”

You barely manage to hum response before everything begins to fade out, Dean yelling your name in the background.

June 17, 2013

They had only barely made it in time. Dean had come sliding to your side, bandages already in hand. He spoke softly to you, a drastic contradiction to the frantic shake of his hands.

Sam had never seen his brother like this before.

“Dean, I don’t think…”

“No! Just,” Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slipped his arms beneath your limp body. “Get us to the nearest hospital.”

He sat in the back seat with you holding as much pressure against the flaps of skin as he could, still talking so softly to you. Sam’s heart ached as he heard his brother beg you not to leave him and make promises they both know he can’t keep.

When he could no longer feel you breathing, his eyes shot up to the review mirror and Sam slammed on the gas.

Squealing into the ambulance drop off, Sam began to yell for help as he pulled open the back seat door. Dean was frozen, all of the color drained from his face.

Emotion cut off from his voice, he had barely managed a whisper. “I think she’s gone.”

From there, he had spent the last six hours trying to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he had lost one of the only good things in his life. Sitting there in some criminally uncomfortable waiting room chair with his head in his hands.

All he could see was you. You twirling around in a bright sundress with the Kansas sunset kissing your skin. Your eyes closed- lips parted slightly as you slept soundly. You angry, red in the face accusing him of using you as some kind of sick tie to a simpler time.

Was that all she was to him? No, he shakes his head at just the thought of it. To him you were the only thing that made sense. A singular constant that he felt like his whole being revolved around.

But he had never told you.

Finally, by 5am he had almost convinced himself that he would be fine.

So, when the doctor comes out with blood speckling the bottom of his scrubs, he wants to shut down, but he needs to know.

“Just give it to us straight, doc.”

“She’s alive.” He says. “The surgery was tough and she gave us quite a scare, but she is alive.”

His knees almost give out from beneath him.

June 20, 2013

Everything hurts. Your side, your chest, your head, your skin. The gentle breeze from the vent above you is what pulls you out of the darkness. The harsh fluorescent lights are almost enough to send you right back to the comfort of the dark, but a shifting pressure at your thigh piques your interest.

Slowly, trying not to groan despite every muscle in your body screaming, you look to your left. Dean’s arm is draped lightly across the tops of your thighs, his hand curling in at your hip. For a moment you do nothing but watch him sleep, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids every so often.

He looks like shit.

Dark, sunken bags have built up beneath his eyes and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. A part of you feels flattered imagining the fuss he had to have made to not only get you here, but to stay here himself.

Without thinking, you begin to move your hand to caress his cheek. Your fingers trace the lines of his now furrowed brow before you thread them through his hair. The movement hurts, but it’s worth it.

Especially when you’re rewarded with a lovely green as his eyes slowly open. For a moment you think there may be no yelling or ‘are you out of your mind’ speeches when a smile begins to slowly light up his face. And then, as if he’s suddenly remembered what has happened, his smile shuts down into a scowl.

“You almost died.” He hisses lowly.

“Almost.” You echo and try to cough out a laugh, but it devolves into a groan. His alarm doesn’t disappear when you try to wave him off. “I’m fine now, so why don’t you go shower or something? You smell.”

“So you can try to slip out?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Not happening.”

“You’re usually the one that slips out.” You mutter, but he doesn’t hear you. “You can’t kidnap me, Dean.”

“The hell I can’t.”

June 23, 2013

“Bedroom here, bathroom down there. Sam and I are here… and here.” Dean’s pointing to doors as you struggle to hobble behind him on his tour of the bunker. When he stops, you almost run into his back. “Sammy went to grab some stuff from your house, but it looks like you don’t live there anymore.” He only raises a brow when you advert your gaze.

Instead of responding, you turn around to point at a door a couple down. “Mine? Sounds good.” You scurry as quickly as you can into the room, but Dean catches the edge of the door before you can shut it.

“You’re not going to explain yourself?”

You laugh bitterly. “Explain myself? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to you, Dean.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You want to turn away from him, but he’s holding your gaze too intensely. “What’s going on with you? You’re living out of cheap hotels and hunting on your own now?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Y/N, cut the shit. It’s just you and me here. Have you even told your mom what happened?”

And it’s this comment, this sincere question that takes the final piece of your resistance from him. He watches as the tense set of your shoulders fall and your face relaxes. The malice and resentment slips from your features and it’s a relief.

“She’s dead.” You barely manage to whisper. “Vetala. Didn’t know they worked in pairs. Her husband found her tied up in the kitchen three years ago.”

He’s stunned. It’s probably the only thing you could have said that would steal his fire in an instant. He knew that kind of pain, that kind of drive. He knew it too well. You sniffle before quickly wiping your eyes and his face falls imagining the pain you’re feeling.

To his surprise, the moment is gone as quick as it started when he watches you swallow down your emotions and rebuild that wall in almost an instant.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not one to be domestic. I’ll be out of your hair the second the doctors clear me.”

It stings. “Just like that?” He asks, not caring this time if you hear the hurt in his voice.

“Why would I stay? You make it clear what you want each time you stop by my house for a quicky and then slip out without a word.” The stunned look on his face is infuriating. “I get it, Dean. It’s convenience and consistency. Not love.”

“Not love?” He repeats your judgement, rolling the word around his tongue and he has to admit he hates the taste. He repeats it again, louder this time and it startles you. “Y/N I gave up everything I ever wanted that night I left you at the diner because I love you. I have tried and tried to stay as far away from you to keep you safe because I love you. I show up on your doorstep in moments of selfish cowardice because I can’t stay away! Almost my whole life I have been drawn to you time and time again and I know it hurts you. It kills me to hurt you, but I can’t stop because I love you.”

Dean’s chest is heaving, his breath falling across your face with how close he is to you now. “You love me.” He has to strain to hear you, but you need the clarification. Love or loved?

“When I saw you laying on the ground, bleeding out, I wished it was me instead. But when I held you in my arms and you…” His voice breaks and his eyes water. “And you stopped breathing…”

Before you know what you’re doing, you have your hands cradling either side of his facing, soothingly hushing him.

“Dean.” You murmur. “I’m okay, you saved me.”

“Stay.” The word bursts through his lips without his control. “Please, just stay.”

A single tear falls from your eyes as you nod knowing that the idea of a place called home had changed over the years, but this, him- he had always remained.

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Three

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Three starts after the cut. (Chapter Two can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Three

Chapter warnings: Smut, alcohol consumption (moderate), mentions of contraception and of pregnancy.

I think that’s it, but this chapter killed my brain – it was very difficult to write and I feel like I botched it. There are various important moments in this chapter that I found very hard to translate from my brain into words. And the smut, oh my God, it’s so bad!

"You know, when you came to me all bossy and told me to lose my clothes, I had something a lot different in mind." Sy grumbled from the bed, where he was sat wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

Ada laughed and turned around, sticking out her tongue at him before going back to what she was doing, namely sorting through Sy's clothes in the walk-in closet. She slid a pair of jeans off its hangers and threw it at him without looking back. "I admit that I probably don't need as many clothes as I own, but you're definitely a minimalist."

Sy grunted noncommittally, he was not amused, but tried on the jeans all the same. They didn't fit, he couldn't pull them up past the thighs. "Hey darlin'," he called her, a hint of amusement audible in his voice.

She turned around at the pet name and then forced herself not to laugh at the sight in front of her. Sy had already been a burly man when they had met, but it seemed he had managed to gain even more muscle mass in the past few months, now looking like an absolute bear of a man. Ada grinned and tilted her head at the cardboard box at the end of the bed. "Put those in the donation pile."

"Yes, ma'am," Sy said, getting up and doing as asked.

Ada grabbed her small pencil and added another item to the list. "So, you need jeans, new boots, sweatshirts, t-shirts..." She went on, listing the items. What he needed was a whole new wardrobe and she was the woman for the mission.

Turning around, she found Sy rolling his eyes at her. "I ain't need no new t-shirts, woman. I got the black one, the red one and the khaki one."

Ada chuckled and approached him on the bed, coming to stand between his legs. It was unusual for her to be taller than him, and with him sitting on the bed and her standing up, she still didn't have that much of an advantage. With a grin, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead before pulling back to look into his eyes. Instinctively, almost an automatism, his hands found purchase on her hips.

"Last time you wore your red 'DILLIGAF' t-shirt, three separate kids stopped and asked you what the acronym stood for and you looked at me for help."

Sy held her gaze, not keen on losing the staring contest. Ada didn't want to relent but she didn't want to force him either, not after what had happened while grocery shopping. "It's okay if you really don't want to go, I won't for-"

Sy shook his head, silencing her before she could even finish. "Let's get this shopping over with. But I'm warning you: I'll be complaining the whole time."

For a moment, Ada pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced but eventually her frown was replaced with a grin. "I would expect nothing else from you, grumpy bear," she teased before turning around, excited about the task at hand.

Sy left to get dressed but not before landing a playful smack on her ass.

°°°

It went just as Ada had imagined. Sy sat down on the sofa at the far end of the store, keeping everything in sight, and she would occasionally come up to him with suggestions. To an onlooker, they resembled a devout worshipper trying to make offerings to a very picky and very handsome god.

His replies to the items she presented to him went anywhere from 'no' to 'not a chance in hell', without forgetting the classic 'you lost your mind, darlin’'.

After visiting three stores and Ada trying to visually guess his size because Sy absolutely refused to try out any of the clothes, they had managed to get most of what he needed. It just turned out to be near recreations of the clothes he already owned, just bigger and newer. And with more child friendly texts.

They stopped for coffee by the center of the open-air mall. True to himself, Sy ordered just that - a coffee with 'none of the fancy shit'.

"You're sure you don't want to go to any of your stores?" Sy asked, watching her sip on her colorful drink.

Well, the idea was tempting but she already had more candles and blankets than necessary. And she knew he was uneasy even if he was hiding it well. "No, it's okay. I know you don't like shopping and I can just ask some friends if I really want to go." Sy hummed.

By the time Ada finished her season exclusive drink, she noticed Sy was staring at a shop window. She was almost excited that he was finally interested in buying clothes before noticing that it was some video game advertisement.

"You can buy the game, if you want. No need to stare," she teased.

He reverted his attention back to her. "It's only compatible with the new console that came out last month and that one's sold out." Ada started beaming as he spoke. "What?"

"Well... a few months ago, I came across the launch announcement on the Internet. And I had seen the old model in the study, so I knew you liked it and since you were coming home soon..."

Sy's eyes became even bluer for a moment, a huge grin threatening to illuminate his face. "Are you saying that...?"

Ada laughed, shaking her head. He looked like a kid on Christmas Day. "Yes. It's wrapped in gift paper in the basement under the utility sink."

"I love you, wife."

Again, she scoffed. "Yeah, yeah... Now let's go get you that damn game."

°°°

Later that day, or rather night, Sy wasn't even paying attention to the movie they, or rather, she was watching. He had gotten the gist of it - superheroes teaming up together to save the world - that sufficed him. His focus was entirely on his wife nested between his legs, her back resting against his chest.

When they got home from the mall and went to sort through his clothes and belongings, finally unpacking the rest of his duffel bag, Ada came across his dog tags. She asked if she could keep them. Sy frowned at the odd request but agreed nonetheless, shrugging dismissively.

Ada then proceeded to put the chain around her neck and slide the tags under her blouse. He had stared at her a little confused; she was smiling, looking all smug as if she had managed to trick him out of something valuable and not just two cheap metal tags hanging off an equally cheap chain.

"The fact that I get to have both your tags means I am very lucky to have gotten you back alive and in one piece. I don't want to ever forget that."

With his height advantage, even sitting behind her, Sy could see the chain disappearing under her pajamas and the tags resting in the valley of her breasts. Somehow, the sight made him feel even more possessive than the wedding band on her ring finger.

Things always had felt slightly uncertain with Ada, there had always been the shadow of a doubt in his mind when it came to her. They had gotten married on a whim and she knew he was a green beret, deployed most of the time. It's an entirely different thing to marry someone you get to see for a couple of weeks every once in a blue moon and to actually live, share a home with someone. When Sy had told her, he was coming home for good over the phone, he had half expected her to ask him for a divorce or to find himself alone at the airport. His face hadn't shown it, but when Ada put on the damn chain he had hated wearing in the goddamn desert where it would chafe his nape or get tangled in his chest hairs, Sy felt as happy as a sand boy.

She seemed honest when she said there was nothing going on with that Tom guy. Not that he could truly blame her if there was, even if it would have broken him. His parents had been married for over thirty-five years and his mom found a new boyfriend not even two years after his father's passing.

And yet, Ada was there, cuddling with him on the couch. She hadn't served him with divorce papers upon his arrival. Instead, they had spent the past few days pretty much glued together as they usually did when he was on leave.

Maybe it was time he started to believe that he had come home to his wife and she really wasn't going anywhere. Especially since she hadn't asked him to wear a condom ever since he got home and he hadn't seen her contraceptive pills on her nightstand either. Sy even checked the bathroom cabinet where he knew she kept some medication, but he didn't find anything there either. This morning, he had even considered asking her about it, but he figured that if she hadn't mentioned anything so far, it was because she wanted it to be a surprise and he didn't want to ruin it. Though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't going to be checking the same cabinet for pregnancy tests in the future.

"You good?" Ada asked as the film came to an end, tilting her head back but only getting a view of his beard. It made her smile, though. Sy really was her bear: big, strong and hairy.

"Yeah, I just," he stammered slightly as if waking up from his thoughts. "I was thinking we should probably change the stairs' railing into something safer before we have kids running up and down."

"Yep, that's not gonna happen," Ada chipped in, jumping off the couch before starting to fold the blanket.

"What?" Sy blurted out, turning all his attention to her. "The railing or the kids?"

"The kids," she replied nonchalantly, now laying the blanket in the basket by the sofa. "If you want to redo the stairs, that's fine. I think we could even paint them white."

In a second, Sy was up on his feet, his imposing stature crowding her. "What do you mean, that ain't happening? You don't want kids?"

Ada frowned, suddenly uncomfortable at his intense stare. "No.”

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Why did you assume kids were a given?" Ada retorted, taking a few steps back to put some distance between them. "I figured that if it was important to you, you'd have mentioned it sooner, at some point at least."

Sy had to fight the urge to yell at her, the feeling of betrayal and even anger overwhelming him. If he never spoke of it before, it was because he didn't want to have kids while he was deployed and miss their first years. Instead, he forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath. "Is that a not now or a not ever?"

Ada looked away for a second, gathering her thoughts before moving her eyes back to him. "I got a new Mirena coil a couple of months ago, so I'm set for the next three years at least."

He had no idea what the fuck a 'Mirena coil' was supposed to be but it wasn't hard to figure out. Instinctively, his hand went to the back of head, raking through his short hair. "Just to be clear, Ada," Sy paused, his nostrils flaring, "you don't want children?"

It didn't even take her a second to start regretting her counter after it came out. "Do you?" She snapped back, the enunciation of the 'you' harsher than she had intended.

The effect was instant, her question giving him pause. Did he? Now reflecting on it, Sy realized he had never asked himself that question. It was just something that you did. First you got a house, then you found a wife and started a family. He had never thought about it as an option, just as the next step if he was lucky enough not to die in Iraq.

"I'm so sorry," Ada apologized, her tone alone expressing her regret. She took his hand, forcing him to look at her only to find her eyes glistening as she attempted not to cry. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't questioning your parenting skills. I know you'd make a fantastic father, Sy." Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath before opening them again, their corners wet with tears this time. "I just never saw myself having kids, but if it's something you really -"

"I ain't gonna force you to start a family with me," Sy rebuffed, offended at the very thought. The abruption of it even making Ada smile, if only briefly.

She shook her head quickly. "What I meant was that if you want to be a father, then I wish for you to become one. But... I won't be a part of that scenario."

"No." He said, dismissing the idea as soon as she voiced it, catching her hands in his and stilling them midair when she started gesticulating instead.

"No, this is important!" Ada protested. "I want you to be happy, Sy. And I won't stand in the way of your happiness. You deserve to live the life you want and if that includes a family -"

"No." Sy ordered, his tone final and resolute, silencing her instantly. He had never used this voice with her in the past, usually reserving it for the soldiers in his unit. "Stop with that ridiculous suggestion, woman." Ada blinked. It was obvious in her eyes that she wanted to argue but she didn't dare defy his hard stare.

Sy closed his eyes and swallowed, searching for the right words. "The choice between having kids with some other woman or getting to be with you, is a damn easy one. I'd rather we be a family of two than have children with some woman I could never love."

She was crying again, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Had he said something wrong? Ada didn't let him wonder for too long, her hand fisting in his t-shirt to pull him down to her lips for a ravenous kiss, their teeth clicking together.

"You know," Ada breathed out against his lips once they parted for air. "It doesn't have to be just the two of us. I am partial to pets."

Later in bed, with his sleeping wife snoring softly and her head resting on his chest, Sy tried to process their conversation only to realize there wasn't much to process at all. It didn't feel that much like giving up on a dream, as it felt like defining the contours his future with Ada. All that mattered to him was that it was a future with the woman whose contagious laugh he had manifested in his mind time and time again to drown out the sound of gunfire and make it through. Children might have been a bonus, he wouldn’t deny that, but their absence was something he could live with. He couldn’t same the thing about Ada.

°°°

"Got your," Sy paused, frowning as he read off the label, entering the kitchen, "Willamette Valley Pinot noir. How many do you need?"

Ada looked away from the oven to find him carrying four bottles of her favorite wine. Did he think they were drunkheads? "Do you want for Tom to have to spend the night here because we're all over the legal alcohol limit and unable to drive?" She laughed.

Sy grimaced. "One bottle it is," he announced, making her laugh all the harder as he set down a single bottle on the table that was already set before casting away the other bottles in the pantry - where they did not, in fact, belong.

Just as was his habit, Sy sneaked up on his wife as she leaned over the kitchen counter, putting away the remaining ingredients and hugged her back to him with one arm. He then dipped a finger in the jar she had filled with leftover caramel and brought it to mouth.

She gasped at his manners. "You can't just stick your fingers in everything that's sweet and lick it off, Sy," Ada chided. She heard it as soon as the words left her mouth, but it was too late.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest behind her. "Can't I?" Sy goaded her mockingly.

Ada took a deep breath. She knew where this was headed and they didn't have time. It was primordial her pie didn't overcook, and Tom would be there soon. "You know what I meant," she groaned, attempting to sound annoyed but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Do I?" He whispered against her ear, his beard tickling her skin and his warm breath making her shiver as he slid his hand under her skirt until he was cupping her damp sex over her panties. "Are you certain about that, darlin'?"

Her hands held on to the counter and her eyes closed as he started rubbing his hand along her folds over the fabric. He was also beginning to harden behind at an impressive rate. The temptation made her whimper. "We don't have time," Ada protested, even as her head fell back against him and she leaned into his touch, silently begging for more as she not-so innocently ground her ass on his crotch.

A swift glance at the clock on the wall told him all he needed to know. They had seven minutes. It would have to be enough, Sy decided. Time being of the essence, he was determined not to waste any.

“Open up your legs for your captain, darlin’,” he rasped, his nose nuzzling in the shallow of her neck, his hands already busy bunching up the soft fabric of her skirt around her waist.

“Sy,” Ada lightheartedly protested his eagerness. The idea was certainly enticing but they truly didn’t have time and she really needed to keep an eye on the pie. “We can’t-“

“I said, open your legs,” he repeated, gritting out the words as his foot snuck between her ankles, forcing her legs open himself. Sy barely had to apply any pressure, Ada complied instantly at his tone. There were very few situations in which she let him boss her around and this was one of them.

His hands brushed over her naked thighs, enjoying the way she shivered as he did so. Sliding his fingers higher up her inner legs, Sy expertly slid the scanty lace of her thong aside in order to access her clit. Ada keened under his touch, the rough skin of his finger pads slowly circling her already swollen nub. She couldn’t decide between pressing into his touch or attempting to pull away from it; it was both too little and too much all at once. “Already so wet and I’ve barely done anything to you,” he teased, hoping to sound less worked up than he was. Sy was set on keeping the upper hand. “Tell me, what is it that you want, darlin’?”

Ada whined as he removed his fingers from her core, his hands going to her hips instead and pulling her to him, letting her feel how hard he was for her. His wife reacted by rubbing her ass against him, determined to get what she wanted without having to voice it. “Sy,” she complained when he didn’t bite the bait, still grinding on him, surely getting his jeans wet with her slick.

“That’s not how it works, darlin’,” he chastised, going back to teasing her. His touch was ghostlike, too light to provide any real satisfaction and she groaned in frustration. “You have to ask for it like a good girl.”

He felt her body tense up against his as she tried chasing the friction of his fingers where she wanted them most, but Sy drew away before she could. “I swear to God I am going to make you regret-“

Smack. Ada gasped at the sharp spank on her ass, her body bending over the counter at the impact. Her ass was just too tempting in this position and Sy was running out of patience. “Ask like a good girl,” he ordered between gritted teeth, his hand descending to palm his crotch, hoping for some relief. Her little stunt was turning him on more than it should have.

“God, Sy, just fuck me already!” She sobbed, her legs rubbing together out of their own volition but her husband stayed put, rubbing his palm of his covered cock as he watched her. He wasn’t going to give up any time soon, she realized with a strangled sigh. “Please fuck me, captain,” she whispered, relenting.

Within a second, Sy was unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper. His cock was red, hard and throbbing impatiently. With time running out, Sy pushed himself into her without a warning. Ada whined at the stretch, gripping at the flour covered kitchen counter as one of his hands grabbed hold of her hips, the other moving to her breast. Then he started ploughing into her like there was no tomorrow.

Ada kept whimpering his name, but even she didn’t know what it was she was asking for. Her hips were digging into the cold stone and she knew there would be bruises come morning. He had barely started fucking her and she was already beginning to tense up with how worked up she was. “Are you gonna cum for me, darlin’?” Sy grunted, his jaw tense as her inner muscles clenched all around his cock. Ada nodded meekly, unable to speak. Just when he was starting to doubt he’d be able to hold off long enough for her to climax, Ada cried out, her tight walls milking him as she came. Sy exploded inside her with a strangled groan, slowly coming to a still inside her.

The doorbell rang. At seven o’clock on the dot.

"Fucking Brits and their punctuality!" Sy cursed, still panting before pulling away from her and tepidly leaving her warmth. Ada chuckled at his reaction, holding onto the counter for support for a few more seconds until she felt somewhat steady on her feet.

Sy tucked himself back into his pants and she adjusted her skirt over her thighs again before letting out a panicked squeak and turning around. Her front was covered in the flour she has spread on counter for the pie and the white handprint on her breast where he had held on to her was very visible on her black blouse. Sy couldn't keep himself from laughing. She looked great if you asked him, especially since Tom would be going to see just how well he took care of her. "I'll go get changed and you get the door!"

°°°

Sy’s eyes widened, positively surprised as he brought the first forkful of boeuf bourguignon to his mouth. The dish hadn’t appeared particularly appetizing on the plate, but it tasted so much better than it looked. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ada glancing at him with an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

“I received a new shipment of books at the store today,” Tom told Ada in between bites. He owned a bookstore downtown, Sy had learnt. “There’s a new murder mystery I’m sure you’ll love.”

Ada stilled, a look of excitement washing over her face. “Is there… poison?”

Tom laughed. He had expected that question from her. “Ah, yes. And it’s set in the 1920s!”

Sy glanced from the one to the other, forcing himself not to sigh. Ada’s excitement was adorable, but Tom was grating on his nerves. All the conversation so far had been about novels they’d read recently.

“Please tell me that you saved me a copy.” Ada shrieked enthusiastically, prompting Tom to laugh before he suddenly producer a hardcover out of seemingly thin air. As if she was scared that he was only taunting her with it, Ada leaned over the table and snatched the book out of his hand, a smug look on her face before she started reading the back cover. Sy looked at her and chuckled, shaking his head fondly at her almost childish elation.

"So, where did you two meet?" Tom asked, shifting his attention to Sy. "Ada always told me that it was a story for another time."

Sy's grip tightened on his cutlery. Admittedly, the strong animosity toward the man had faded, but he was still not keen on making conversation with the man. "Here in Austin," Sy replied before going back to his food. Ada had to stifle a laugh at the face Tom made at the curt answer.

"I'll tell you," she offered, capturing Tom's attention. "I had just graduated with my Masters and managed to land a PhD position here in Austin. I was freshly debarked out of France and I was only to start to start mid January but I flew over in December already - wanting to fly with my own wings and all that." Tom chuckled as she gestured derisively with the story.

"Anyway, I hadn't found a flat yet, all my stuff was in a storage unit and I had the brilliant idea of going to Vegas. On my own. In a 1979 black Camaro rental."

Sy finally looked up from his plate. "It was from 1980 and it was dark gray, not black, darling’."

Ada found herself staring curiously at her husband as he interrupted her story before laughing. That's what it took to get him to talk?

"So, it was a 1979, dark gray Camaro,” Ada correctly herself. “Anyway, obviously it did not have a navigation system and I stopped at one of the few open bars open at 5pm on Christmas Eve, ordered a beer and tried making sense of the maps I found in the glovebox, making a list of the different exits and turns I would have to make.

"Sy was there drinking with some friends – loud friends, might I add. Well, I am struggling with the maps and he must notice because he approaches me at the counter, takes of his cap and asks me if I need help, in his southern drawl. Actually, no wait, his exact words were” Ada paused, clearing her voice. “’Need some help reading that map, darling?'" Tom laughed at her ridiculous attempt to imitate Sy’s baritone voice. To Ada's surprise, Sy blushed. It was barely visible beneath his beard, but it was there and it was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

"I looked down at the map she was studying and asked her if she was headed somewhere on the east coast. She then slowly looked at me and confidently told me she was going to Nevada, until I pointed out that she was highlighting the road that went East and her face burned up, all self-conscious." Sy recounted, now laughing as well and even Tom scoffed. " I said: ‘At this point, even a navigation system can’t help you, darlin’. You’d need an escort.”

Ada bit her lip, remembering that moment clearly in her mind. She had flushed, staring at the muscular man that towered next to her. He was burly and rugged and yet still exhaled a little softness behind it all. 'Well then, will you be my escort to Vegas? I am leaving tonight,' she had blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I cannot believe you drove from Austin to Las Vegas with a stranger, Ada!" Tom said teasingly, clearly surprised by his friend’s spontaneity and recklessness.

"Yes, I made him miss Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with his family, and the best part is that we got married the day we reached Vegas on New Year’s Eve.” They had stopped a few times along the way, visited some towns and she had only known Sy for seven days when we got hitched at the kitschiest chapel imaginable. “We had to hurry to get a marriage license before the courthouse closed and a half-naked dude officiated because everyone else was already booked.”

Sy chuckled, sitting back against his chair and wrapping his arm around Ada's shoulders possessively. "She made me wear my old uniform that lasted all of fifteen minutes and was presided by an officer dressed as a cherub." He gestured at the framed picture standing on the cupboard next to them.

They looked absolutely ridiculous. Sy's uniform made him look too serious next to a tipsy Ada who wore the only white dress she had been able to find on such short notice and that definitely hadn’t been meant for a wedding because it turned out to be partly see-through under the camera flashes.

Ada shared some more stories about Vegas before excusing herself to the bathroom, the conversation instantly dying out as she disappeared, leaving both men in an uncomfortable silence until Sy’s curiosity got to him.

"So, you and her...?" Sy left his question unfinished. He wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was asking, he just wanted to know all there was to know.

In front of him, Tom gracefully dabbed him mouth with the ivory napkin and shook his head, with a tight smile. "No, nothing of the sort," the Englishman replied dismissively before Sy's inquiring stare forced him to expound. "It's not that I didn't think of pursuing something more with her, but Ada made it very clear from the beginning that she was a married woman and a faithful wife."

Sy hummed noncommittally, though internally he was reassured and maybe even elated. Mike had really filled his head with shit. Deep down, he always knew his Ada wasn't like that, it just felt good to hear it.

"My wife, for whom I left England, passed away only two months before Ada and I met. I was going through a rough patch then - and that's a euphemism. Carla had been talking to me about watching a particular film ever since it had been announced, it was an adaptation of her favorite novel." Tom explained, a smile warming up his features. "When she died before it premiered, I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to watch it without her... But the tickets had already been purchased and part of me hoped that for two hours, it would feel like Carla was sitting right next to me."

Sy listened, feeling sympathetic, if not a little uncomfortable by the man’s openness. He still wanted to dislike Tom but at the same time he couldn't imagine the wreck he'd be if Ada were to die on him.

"The cinema was packed and to accommodate a large group, Ada asked whether I minded if she sat down next to me,” Tom paused briefly, smiling at the memory. “I think it was listening to her laugh, cry and eat popcorn next to me during the movie that gave me the strength to drive home instead of off a cliff that night."

Sy gulped down the rest of his wine, still not a fan of the taste as he faced the Englishman before him. Not that he would ever say it out loud, but if he had failed to make it alive out of that godforsaken desert, he had to concede Tom would not have been the worst for Ada.

Silence fell again and Sy became uncomfortable, deciding to pour Tom some more wine. “I am glad Ada and you were there for each other.” When I should’ve been there for her myself but wasn’t, Sy thought but left it unsaid.

Tom chuckled as he observed the burly man in front of him. For all his muscles and gruff exterior, he carried the slightest of insecurities when it came to his wife. "There's a thick silver notebook Ada has kept for a couple of years. Maybe you should have a look at it.”

Sy wanted to ask what he was talking about but was interrupted by the sound of Ada's high heels clicking on the wooden floor as she made her way back to them. "I hope you weren't talking ill of me behind my back," she teased, squeezing Sy's shoulder absentmindedly. "Now, who's ready for my slightly overcooked tarte tatin.” Ada eyed her husband pointedly.