#Meeting rooms hotel derby

[worseforwords]

Crescendo

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter III of Marshmallow

The Monday after the weekend off marked the return to training. As you locked your car door and approached the training center, your mind still replayed the events of the past weekend.

“Hi!” A sweet voice brought you back to the present. You turned around to meet Alessia’s now all-too-familiar blue eyes. “Morning Marshmallow,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips. “So, I guess we're back to normal now, huh?” you said.

“Yeah, friends,” she replied as the two of you strolled towards the building. As you entered the changing room together, Katie let out a dramatic wolf whistle. “Well, well, if it isn’t our two lovebirds! I guess you’ve just moved in together already.”

Laughter echoed as you shot Katie a playful glare. The spotlight was on the two of you, and everyone seemed curious about the weekend’s charade. Vic decided to get straight to the point. “So, spill it. How’d it go? Your parents buy the whole lovey-dovey act?” She asked.

You nodded, trying to play down the attention. “Yeah, they bought it.” As you moved to take a seat next to Leah, Alessia found her own place, and the atmosphere in the room buzzed with curiosity. Beth couldn’t resist chiming in, “Really? You actually pulled it off?”

“Alessia here was playing the ideal daughter-in-law. Perfect performance,” you said with a smirk, earning a few chuckles. You were hoping to leave it at that, which was of course too good to be true. “So what’s the next act? Break up after a while?” Vic inquired.

Before you could respond, Alessia jumped in, “Actually, Y/N’s sister is getting married in Paris next month, and we’re going together.” Jaws practically hit the floor. “Paris!?” Katie exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, why not? Always wanted to go, and it’s a free trip with a friend.” Alessia said with a casual shrug. For some reason, the word ‘friend’ hit you like a sudden jolt, though you knew she wasn’t lying. You noticed yourself zoning out as the conversation continued on the other side of the room. “Hey, are you okay?” Leah suddenly asked quietly, noticing your distant expression.

“Yeah, fine,” you replied, but the truth lingered beneath the surface. You busied yourself with your shoelaces, gaze straight to the floor. “You know, I’m surprised your parents bought your little act. You’re not exactly a great liar Y/N/N,” she said as you both got up to leave the changing room, clearly not fooled by your tough act.

The rest of the month leading up to the dreaded Paris trip went by a lot faster than expected. You and Alessia seamlessly transitioned back into your roles as teammates, though there was an undeniable shift in your relationship. To everyone else, it appeared as if a new friendship was blossoming, but to you, it felt like a delicate dance between savouring your time together and avoiding getting too close.

You enjoyed the conversations you had with her and the occasional playful teasing. Yet, you set unspoken boundaries. The line between friendship and something more blurred at times, and when the teasing veered into the realm of flirtation, you found subtle excuses to distance yourself from the situation. It was a self-imposed rule, a defence mechanism to keep your emotions in check.

When the dreaded weekend arrived, it started on a high. You had won the London derby, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears as you and Alessia boarded the plane. An hour and a half flew by as you chatted away about the hard-fought victory. When you landed in Paris, the city of lights welcomed you with a glow that mirrored the spark in Alessia’s eyes.

Stepping into the hotel lobby, Alessia’s hand found its place on the small of your back. It was a simple yet familiar touch, a signal that the roles were back in play – girlfriends for the public eye. In that moment, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. The elation from the match, the allure of Paris, and the gentle touch on your back created a concoction of feelings that you knew you would have to suppress all weekend.

When you swung open the door to your shared hotel room for the weekend, you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping as your eyes scanned the room. Soft, warm lights adorned the walls, casting a gentle glow across the room. The scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere that whispered of indulgence and intimacy.

The centrepiece was a double bed, adorned with satin sheets and a multitude of plush pillows, rose petals scattered artfully across the bedspread. The suite, beyond the bedroom, featured a cozy sitting area adorned with plush armchairs and a low coffee table holding an assortment of gourmet chocolates and a bottle of champagne on ice, complementing the romantic atmosphere.

“Well, they really went all out on the couple vibes, didn’t they?” you remarked with a faint grin, glancing at Alessia. She chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “Seems like it. Guess we’ll be embracing the honeymoon suite feel.”

As you walked in, you found a little note sitting on the bedside table. “Your first romantic getaway little sis! Have fun you lovebirds. x Charlotte.” You snorted as you read it out loud to Alessia. “Typical Charlie turning her own wedding into a romantic getaway for someone else,” you remarked.

Alessia giggled as she walked up to the window, taking in the gorgeous view, whilst you found yourself staring at the double bed, only now realising its implications.

“Hm, so,” you cleared your throat. “Since they gave us only one bed...” you paused for a moment as Alessia turned around to look at you. “You can take the bed, and I’ll take the floor. I’ll go request some more blankets.”

Alessia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Come on, Y/N. We’re not twelve. If you’re okay with it, we can share the bed. If not, I’m more than happy to take the floor. Your call.”

“Yeah, sure, no big deal,” you mumbled, trying desperately to sound casual. Alessia flashed a warm smile. “Great! As long as you’re comfortable.” She looked at you in anticipation as if checking once more if it was really okay with you. “Absolutely, all good,” you replied, maybe a bit too quickly.

That night, you had planned to meet your family in the lobby for a drink, whilst Andrew, your sister’s fiancé spent some time with his own family. Alessia, charming as always, effortlessly endeared herself to your family.

The night was a success, with your parents clearly appreciating Alessia’s company. Your brother, Colin, and his wife found her delightful, and even your sister, the bride-to-be, was glad to see you with such a wonderful person—a relief, since Charlotte had a tendency to be very protective over you. Alessia’s ability to navigate through conversations, blending in with your family seamlessly, only solidified the image of her as the perfect girlfriend.

As you all left the venue, there was a warmth in the air—a promise of a beautiful wedding day and a sense that Alessia had, once again, proven her mettle in this elaborate charade. The only challenge, it seemed, was the quiet struggle within you as you continued to suppress the feelings that once again had begun to blossom. Or maybe they had never really stopped.

Later that night, your hotel room was hushed, illuminated only by the soft glow of your nightlight. You sat up against the headboard, engrossed in a book, the occasional rustle of pages filling the silence. Alessia lay beside you, already cocooned in the sheets, her rhythmic breathing like small waves washing over the stillness.

When you had first started reading, Alessia was still scrolling on her phone. Now, however, the sound of soft snores broke your mind away from the captivating narrative of your book. Your eyes wandered to where she was peacefully asleep beside you, and you couldn’t help but let a warm smile form on your face, matching the warmth you felt inside at the sight of her.

With a tender touch, you pulled the blanket further over her, shielding her exposed shoulder from the chill. But as you lingered, you found yourself entranced by the subtle rise and fall of her body with each breath. Your gaze lingered longer than intended, tracing the contours of her form.

Reality snapped back as you became aware you had been staring at your friend for minutes now. In a hurried response, you left your book on the nightstand, turned off the nightlight, and shifted your body down to let your head sink into the pillow.

You briefly stared at the ceiling, but found yourself distracted by the slightest of movements still visible from the corner of your eye as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Fighting against the current of your emotions, you turned onto your side to face the other side of the bed.

However, even in the absence of her sight, you could feel her presence like a magnetic force against your back. With a racing heart, you stared into the black void, and when the internal struggle reached its peak, you made a decision. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, hoping not to disturb her peaceful slumber. However, Alessia, even in her sleep, seemed attuned to your movements. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Everything okay?” she mumbled sleepily as she reached for her nightlight. You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yeah, just can’t sleep.” Alessia, still in a drowsy state, offered a comforting smile. “Tea?” she suggested, the word accompanied by a gentle stretch.

She hardly gave you a chance to protest as she got up to turn on your hotel kettle, returning moments later with two cups of chamomile tea and a soft, sympathetic smile.

A quiet and peaceful minute later, with the cups emptied, Alessia encouraged you to lie back down. “Now turn to your side,” she added. A sense of vulnerability washed over you as you pondered which side, and you hesitated. You ultimately decided to face away from her again, knowing the possibility of feeling her breath on your face was simply too much for you.

Shortly after you moved, however, you felt an arm softly land on yours, gently wrapping itself around you. You tensed up a little at the unexpected contact, but you slowly felt your body relax as Alessia hesitantly edged closer to you. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

The gesture was unexpected, and you felt a mix of emotions. Somehow, it felt right. “Yeah,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, and she held onto you a little tighter. Had you not been as sleep-deprived, your judgment of the situation might have been different, but in Alessia’s embrace, the room seemed to still, and you gradually drifted into a more peaceful state.

The morning of the wedding greeted you with a soft glow, sunlight streaming into the hotel room. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself in Alessia’s arms, her warmth a comforting presence. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against your back momentarily lulled you into a sense of security.

However, you were quick to resist the allure of the moment. With a silent sigh, you carefully escaped from Alessia’s embrace, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber, and slipped into the bathroom.

After your shower, Alessia had woken up and did the same. As she occupied the bathroom, you used the mirror in the bedroom for your little morning chat with yourself. Today’s chat was more of a tirade, spoken with a stern whisper, since the main character was just a door away. You kept it short, deciding to use the time to get dressed.

Earlier this year, prompted by your sister’s wedding announcement, your family had visited to a tailor, which had resulted in a cohesive theme threading through each member’s attire. A shared fabric choice subtly connected all of you in the celebration. Opting for a suit, you added a personal touch underneath—a graceful camisole that exuded both elegance and individuality.

The jacket was expertly tailored, cinching at the waist to accentuate your silhouette. The trousers were tailored to perfection, elongating your legs in a tasteful manner. As you turned back towards the mirror, you felt a sense of confidence wash over you.

However, said confidence disappeared in an instant when a little while later, Alessia emerged from the bathroom. The sight of her took you aback as she looked nothing short of stunning. Her outfit exuded elegance and grace. She wore a floor-length dress with a fitted bodice that accentuated her figure. The colour was a soft, muted tone that complemented her skin beautifully and matched the shade of your camisole. The dress had delicate lace detailing, adding a touch of sophistication. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face with effortless charm. She looked beautiful.

Moments must have gone by as you stared at her before she spoke up. “How do I look?” she asked nervously, eyes moving up from the floor to yours and a shy smile on her face.

The words caught in your throat for a moment before you managed to reply, “Absolutely breathtaking.” The sincerity in your words was undeniable, even as the underlying complexity of the situation lingered. Alessia’s smile widened, appreciating the compliment.

“You look great too,” she said, scanning your suit. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before. It’s— different,” she added. You felt your cheeks flush as every drop of confidence left your body. Different? What on earth did she mean by that?

She must have noticed your slightly somber expression when she added, “Good different, I mean. It’s— I really like it.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said shyly, a soft smile creeping its way onto your face. “So, you ready, marshmallow?” You asked in an attempt to lighten the mood and she giggled. “There’s no way you’re calling me that when I look like this,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Are you ready, beautiful?” You really meant for that to sound sarcastic but were pretty sure that’s not how it came across. “Yes I am, gorgeous,” she retorted. You extended an elbow and she quickly took the invitation, intertwining her arm with yours as you left your hotel room to meet up with your family.

The ceremony itself, while undoubtedly beautiful, proved to be a bit of a blur. As vows were exchanged and the union was sealed with a kiss, your mind occasionally drifted to the subtle touches exchanged between Alessia and you. All of them part of your charade, of course.

The reception was where the day truly came to life. The venue sparkled with twinkling lights, and soft music wove through the air, casting a dreamlike aura over the celebration. Tables adorned with delicate flowers dotted the space, and laughter echoed as guests mingled. You found yourself mostly sticking by Alessia’s side, introducing her to friends and family.

Caught up in conversation with your cousin, you momentarily lost sight of your pretend girlfriend amidst the laughter and chatter. An undercurrent of panic flitted through you until, scanning the room, you spotted her engaged in a lively conversation with your mom.

As dinner unfolded, the atmosphere transformed with each heartfelt speech. Stories were shared about Charlotte and Andrew, from their initial dislike towards each other when working together to an accidental cooler confinement that changed everything.

Eventually the microphone found its way into your uncle’s hands, who fancied himself a poet after a few drinks. “Life is like music,” he began. "We all navigate through the complex cacophony that is the world as our own melodies. But it’s when we listen to those around us that we find unexpected harmonies.”

Glancing at Alessia, you found her eyes already on you. A shy smile passed between you as you related the poetic metaphor to your own story— the harmony between you and Alessia, unexpected yet undeniable.

“It’s the unexpected that makes both music and life beautiful, but love is not just about one simple harmony,” your uncle continued. “It’s about finding a way to move your melodies in sync, with whatever tempo, pitch, or dynamics the world throws at you. Charlotte, Andrew, I can’t wait to listen from afar to the next movements of the symphony of your love.”

Cheesy as the speech was, your uncle was right. No matter how much you felt the two of you harmonise when you were together, her melody wasn’t in sync with yours. It was with someone else’s.

After dinner came the highlight of the night— the party. The crowd gathered in the grand dance hall, and the band kicked off with some casual tunes. Your sister and her newly-wedded husband valued family a lot, so they wanted you all to be part of the first dance. The newlywed couple would start with a slow song, and as it progressed, close family members would join in. Then you all would do a small routine together to another song.

The original plan was for you to share the dance with your brother, a strategy devised by your mother to prevent you from being on your own. However, with Alessia as your date, plans swiftly changed. Your mother broke the news mere minutes before the grand moment. You attempted to protest by saying Alessia didn’t know the dance. However, unbeknownst to you, when your mom had briefly taken Alessia away during the reception when you whilst chatting away with your cousin, she had quickly taught her the routine.

Nerves began to bubble within your stomach as the band’s singer instructed everyone to form a large circle, with the newlyweds taking center stage. The chosen song for the dance was “Finally // beautiful stranger” by Halsey, a bit of an inside joke as it happened to be Andrew’s ultimate guilty pleasure and a challenge for him to hold back tears.

Nevertheless, to his credit, he continued slow dancing with Charlotte, and your turn was approaching. “Are you sure about this?” you asked Alessia, who responded with a nod, extending her hand for you to hold. You complied, and she practically dragged you onto the dance floor.

Not a fan of the spotlight, your face started heating up as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. Alessia must have noticed your flustered state as she quickly directed your hands to her waist, wrapping her own around your neck. She slowly guided the two of you, swaying to the music as the band launched into the final chorus.

“Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall”

As you looked around you, you felt your palms getting sweaty and your throat closing up. Sensing your nerves, Alessia whispered softly, “It’s okay, just look at me.”

You did as she said, and although her bright blue eyes did not make you any less nervous, her encouraging smile made you temporarily forget about everyone else’s eyes on you, hers the only pair that mattered. Alessia became your anchor on the dance floor, subtly guiding you through the steps.

As the night unfolded into a lively party, drinks flowed freely, and the dance floor beckoned. Your pretend girlfriend, being the new addition to the family, soon found herself surrounded by eager relatives, each wanting to share a toast or pull her into a dance.

You were in the midst of a conversation with your aunt when Alessia suddenly whisked you onto the dance floor. Guiding your hands to her waist once again, she inched closer, and the dance felt different from before, carefree in a way. Her hands explored your body more intimately than usual, and you decided to attribute it to the influence of alcohol and chose to savour the moment.

Just as you were becoming lost in the dance, your brother Colin’s playful interruption cut through the enchantment with a teasing grin. “Hey, lovebirds, mind if I cut in?” His comment, though light-hearted, momentarily disrupted the dance’s spell.

Another interruption followed when Alessia’s phone chimed with an incoming call. She gracefully excused herself, walking away to take the call with an apologetic smile. However, you couldn’t help but glimpse the caller ID on her screen—Dan, accompanied by a little heart emoji.

“Who’s Dan?" Colin inquired, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It seemed you weren’t the only one who had caught a quick glimpse of the screen. “He’s just a friend of Alessia’s,” you quickly replied.

“Why did she add a heart to his name?” he persisted, unwilling to let the topic go. “They’re good friends, like family almost,” you offered in explanation.

“Family? Really? Would you take a photo like that with me?” he skeptically questioned. He seemed to have gotten a better look at the screen than you had thought. “Y/N what’s going on here?”

“Nothing is going on. You’re just looking for drama, that’s what’s going on!” you retorted, shoving your brother away as you headed to the bar, eager to escape the conversation.

Fortunately, Colin didn’t follow you, and you settled onto a barstool with a glass of water to cool down. 

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Alessia asked when she found you at the bar a little while later. “I just ran into Colin. He was being weird. All of a sudden, he was telling me I can’t hide anything from him,” she explained.

“Shit,” you muttered before pulling Alessia into the hallway and explaining your encounter with your brother. “I don’t know what to do, Less; he might be onto us.”

A hushed silence fell between you as your minds raced to find a solution. “I think I might have an idea,” Alessia suddenly broke the silence, and you looked at her expectantly.

“It’s a bit weird, but don’t freak out please,” she said and you nodded nervously, but you both jumped when Colin’s voice suddenly rang from around the corner, calling out your name.

“Shit okay, no time to explain,” she continued, turning her body towards you. Her blue eyes locked onto yours as she took a deep breath. “Y/N, can I kiss you?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, the rush of the situation, or simply your brain short-circuiting at the question, but whatever it was, you nodded almost instantly. “Yes?” she asked, seeking assurance, a warm hand cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

The approaching footsteps neared the corner of the hallway where you stood when you suddenly felt a pair of soft lips crash onto yours. For a moment everything around you disappeared. Your hands found her waist once more like on autopilot, and her hand moved to the back of your neck. She slowly walked the two of you backward until you felt your back connect with the cold wall behind you. The kiss was hungry and a little sloppy, nothing like how a first kiss was supposed be, yet you never wanted this moment to end.

Had your brain still been functioning you would’ve realised the heat of it all was due to Alessia trying to perform a convincing drunken make-out. But your brain had little to do with what was happening right now. For a moment, you didn’t think. You disappeared into the kiss easily, as if the two of you had done this numerous times before. Harmony. Synchronisation.

Alessia broke away from you what must have been minutes later, your brother long gone. As you felt your heart all but beat out of your chest, you wondered whether she had noticed that just moments ago when she had you trapped against the wall.

“You think he bought it?” Alessia asked, her warm breath mingling with yours as it took you a while to form an answer. 

“I would assume so,” you finally answered, only now remembering the reason behind the moment you shared.

The party continued in a blur of lights, laughter, and music, but your mind remained in a state of disarray. The hallway kiss with Alessia left you dazed and confused. What did it mean? Why did she do it? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. One thing was certain; it didn’t feel like nothing.

As the night wore on, you and Alessia eventually decided to call it a night. The world outside the grand dance hall seemed quieter, and you both made your way back to the hotel room in a companionable silence.

Once inside, the question that had been nagging at you surfaced. “Hey, about the call from your boyfriend earlier, is everything okay?”

Alessia nodded, “Yeah, it’s fine, just had a planning issue,” she explained. Curiosity brimming, you probed further, “Is he really okay with all this?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, he’s... not really the jealous type,” she finally responded. The air grew heavy as you dared to ask the question that hung in the room, “Are you gonna tell him about the... you know, thing we did earlier?”

“I guess so,” she mumbled casually. “Doesn’t really matter anyways…” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze seemed distant, as if already lost in other thoughts.

That admission hit you like a stab to the heart. It was a stark reminder of the insignificance of the shared moments, at least from her perspective. You fell silent for a while, processing the weight of her words.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Alessia’s voice was filled with concern. You forced a smile, “Yeah, all good. I’m just gonna take a shower.”

In the confined space of the bathroom, the sound of water cascading drowned the noise in your head. You let the water cleanse not only your body but also the lingering confusion and hurt. As you stepped out, Alessia was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps sensing the need for space, she’d let you be.

When Alessia returned, you were already in bed, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. You remained still when you felt her quietly slip into the other side of the bed.

The next morning was a quiet one. You both packed your belongings and left for the airport, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The flight was silent, with occasional glances at each other, a mixture of confusion and hurt and still, for whatever reason, curiosity in your eyes.

Neither of you dared to broach the topic of the previous night’s events. Was it a mistake, a game, or something more? Or was it really nothing? Were you making things up? The questions lingered as the plane landed, and you shared an Uber to take both of you home.

The Uber dropped Alessia off first. As she gathered her things, she turned to you. “Hey, want to come in for a bit?” The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications. You hesitated but agreed, curiosity overcoming your reservations.

Inside her place, the tension was palpable. Alessia attempted to break it with a joke, "So when’s our next performance?”

You forced a chuckle, “Don’t worry, I can come up with excuses for you for the next couple of family events, and after a few months, I’ll just tell them we broke up or something.”

Alessia’s expression shifted, sensing something beneath your words. “Is everything okay, Y/N?” She asked, a concerned look on her face as she tried to catch your gaze, which you avoided.

“Yeah, fine,” you lied. “I’m just not going to drag you to every family thing ever just because you said yes to it once. It was really nice of you to help me, but you should get to spend your time off football with your actual boyfriend.”

“Right, Dan. Y/N, I—” she started but the keys jingling in the door interrupted her. The door opened, and in walked her boyfriend.

He greeted Alessia with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and your heart sank a little as you watched, unable to shake the tinge of jealousy. You wished you could hate him, find some flaw, but he was genuinely a nice guy who had done nothing wrong. Still, you couldn’t help but wish you could recreate the intimacy you shared with Alessia just yesterday, a privilege he seemed to enjoy effortlessly whenever he wanted.

When Dan asked you if you wanted to stay for lunch, you politely declined, saying you already had plans and you excused yourself, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. 

You shut the door to Alessia’s apartment and with it your pretend relationship. Why did this fake break-up hurt so real? 

One thing was for sure, it was all your fault. And still you had a lingering feeling that this wasn’t the last chapter of this strange tale.

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

Note: Hi! Just wanted to let you all know that I love hearing what you think about the story thus far and what you would like to see happen next so feel free to leave a comment/ask/message!

-> Chapter IV

[thestuart01]

Choose Your Meeting Room Venue in Derby City Center

Plan your next event or meeting at Best Western The Stuart Hotel in Derby. The Suite with its own entrance, lobby, bar and cloakrooms is located on the ground floor with air conditioning.Meeting rooms hotel in derby city centre come equipped with LCD projector and screen and flipchart stand, pad and pens. Packages are bespoke to your personal requirements whether it’s a day meeting or a brain storing session for a couple of hours.

[spotofimagines]

Rivals Last ~ Jadon Sancho

A/N: So I had this in my drafts before he signed with man united but that's fine, we move, we adapt. A third piece for the @footballffbarbiex summer challenge. Hope you enjoy it :)

Warnings: none - reader is female

Summary: You love both your brothers dearly, but being in the football world with them can make some things a little complicated.

gif by @archivesbvb - gif by @ermuellert - gif by @italynt

Being a footballer meant living in a special world. Being in a footballing family meant living in a special world too. Being the younger sister of Lucas and Theo Hernandez meant living in a really special world. But nobody told you just how crazy it would be for all three of those things to apply to you.

You truly love watching your older brothers play football. They teach you something new during every match you see; even though you play as a striker, their movements and handling of the ball always inspire you to play better. After all, it was their defensive skills that helped you become a good goal scorer growing up since they never let a tackle go unchallenged in the park and you had to find out how to manoeuvre around them. A lot easier said than done.

Currently Lucas is signed with Bayern Munich. In his time there so far, he has learnt the heritage, history, and importance of wearing the badge and defending its honour in every match they play, especially derbies. Having supported Lucas, it quickly became easy for you to support Bayern Munich too and celebrate their victories like it was your own team. You'd always managed to do it with the clubs both your brothers played for, letting the atmosphere of the fanbase carry you away.

You have just finished your second season in England with Manchester City women's team. You'd settled in nicely now, having learnt a lot of the English language and culture already. The experience was made so much easier because of the help given by your welcoming teammates and the staff that translated things into French and Spanish during your first months there.

Fans were a little disappointed during the 2019 summer transfer window when it was confirmed all three Hernandez siblings would be leaving Spain to play separately in England, Germany and Italy, joking that no one could know what might happen with you all so far away. However, to you, it made things easier, as Lucas and Theo would stop making so many awful jokes about each other's clubs, only to join forces to diss your club even more afterward. Now the only connection you have to the clubs you all play for is the want for your sibling to win with them. And it is a great feeling. A welcome change of pace.

But no new change to your life felt as good as your blossoming "relationship", situationship, whatevership, you have with Jadon Sancho.

It all started with you flirting back and forth on social media, which turned itself into countless hours of DMs no one else could see. You congratulated his goals and he congratulated your wins. All the light-hearted teasing and the warm-hearted compliments stayed in your own little bubble. The only thing peeking out was your silly inside rule that if you were going to comment on a post, it had to be emojis only, stretching to a few words if you really couldn't help yourself - but it would earn you taunts from the other for the rest of the night.

Some eagle-eyed fans noticed how you'd been liking each other's posts every time they appeared for a while now, but it just added to the fun and thrill you got from flirting with him so much.

You weren't meant to be forming a bond with Jadon. He played for your brother’s rival. He was supposed to be the enemy. Someone you should dislike with a snap of your fingers. Certainly not a boy to fall for like you have.

You couldn't help yourself. Lucas and Theo had helped you since you moved to England by being the steady rocks they always were, cheering you on from afar. Your new teammates had helped you since you moved to England by introducing fun things for you all to do together and taking you under their wings. But Jadon had helped you in a different kind of way. He gave you a new kind of comfort and reassurance when you talked. He became someone to turn to with all your interesting news and your curious problems. He told you the good places to visit around the city that he remembered from his time there and taught you English slang to make your teammates laugh. You spoke three languages to varying degrees now, and you'd managed to pick up more German vicariously through Lucas in two years faster than Jadon had done living in Germany in four years, so you'd clue him into rude German phrases you had asked Lucas about, alongside the French and Spanish swear words he used more often than English ones now when you text. 

Even though a language barrier comes up once in a while, you have both learnt behaviours from each other and crave the contact you share. Jadon was starting to drop everything to send replies to you, a change his teammates have noticed and jokingly mock him for. Little did they know the unknown girl they joke he is smitten over is the sister of their rival.

Theo is the one in your family you usually tell about the boys you go out with; boyfriends and dates have been shared with him since you were 13 and doting on your first crush. He does the same with his girlfriends; asking advice and telling you more than you need to know at times. So, when you all went home for a bit of family time around Christmas, nothing could stop him from noticing the tell-tale signs that you had something going on. He already figured out through persistence that it was another player you were getting involved with, and his insistent questioning hasn't stopped in his search for who the player is.

But you keep it hidden from Lucas, and you don't know when you'll tell him. He has been your protector since you were kids, comforting you on sad nights when no one else was there, teaching you little secrets about how to navigate through the world, he even punched a boy who teased you once at school. The idea of telling him you were chatting romantically to another player would be trouble enough, but telling him it was a Dortmund player might just end up in another schoolground incident. You hadn't wanted Theo to know for fear he'd go dishing your dirt to Lucas, but he discovered it on his own and there was nothing you could do.

Who knows what might become of this thing you have with Jadon, and lord knows your eldest brother owns a hard as nails death stare that just might do Jadon in, but for now you actually quite like having the secret. A little mystery tucked away up your sleeve.

The rush you always get when Lucas calls your phone as you're typing a text to the Englishman,  feeling as though the first words from the other end will be shouts of how he knows everything and he'll never speak to you again for keeping it a secret, fills you with dread at times. But it never is the reason he calls, and it turns out he is just making plans or has something funny to tell you. But the way your heart thumps as you go back to texting Jadon, that is part of the chase you have to admit you enjoy.

Hardcore fans online have noticed the past few months that when you do interviews in English, the odd slang term comes up during jokes - terms you hadn't used before and stem more from London boroughs than northen towns - so speculation of how you'd learnt these things easily coincided with dating rumors.

Lucas had seen the speculation online; seen fans trying to put your interactions with the Dortmund player together through both your instagram stories and comments and the tweets you both had liked about the other. Lucas had even grown suspicious of the little questions you asked him about Germany, German phrases and his lifestyle there, not knowing why you would need nor want to know those things. But Lucas doesn't believe it. He knows that you know better to mix with a Dortmund boy.

Sometimes an older brother just doesn't get it quite right…

Soon, the chance will come to really see if your connection is something you can build on. Jadon's new signing with Manchester United has been confirmed and he will be moving back to England. It is a great opportunity to get to see him more often, rather than the odd rendezvous point or clandestine trip during small breaks in the season. You'll spend more time face to face instead of over the phone. You'll get to wake up in his bed and him in yours, without needing to sneak away from hotel rooms afterwards. You'll maybe even get to go on a proper date, just the two of you, where you can flirt across the table your joined hands rest upon. Hanging out with Jadon won't be the first time you've spent time together in person. However, getting a full day with only the two of you where you won't have to pretend you hardly know who he is, and you won't have to pretend your eyes aren't meeting across the group of people you're in - it fills your stomach with knots and butterflies.

A certain pressure has fallen off you now Jadon has no growing rivalry with Lucas, but not completely. You won't be able to take back the way their teams made the other feel in the past, but the fact there won't be more of it next season comforts you a little. The biggest thing that will hold you back from going public before the new season starts will be the media, but that is an issue you can't even begin to worry about yet. You are too caught up in the excitement of being in the same town as Jadon to care. Rumours are spinning crazier than ever about you two as some of your liked tweets about his move got reposted by sports pages and fan blogs - now joking about him being your rival instead of your brother's - and yet it didn't stop you, no longer all that bothered about keeping a low profile now you both will be living away from Lucas. If he gets mad, all he will be able to do is shout down the phone, and whilst you never want that to happen, you know the time to flourish with Jadon and capitalise on the foundation you have already built is better than ever, brothers be damned.

There are big changes coming for the both of you, yet one thing will remain the same no matter the outcome of your relationship. You can't quite stop being football rivals.

[blinder-secrets]

Lion Tamer - part 8

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

3,270 words, mild nsfw

ao3 link

It was late when you left, but London didn’t seem to follow time in the same way that it did elsewhere. There was no slowing in the approach to midnight. No sign that things were about to be wrapped up, shut away. The pavement outside the club Arthur had chosen was as full as the inside, just as loud, just as unruly. You would’ve had to queue if you weren’t with him. Fuck, you’d have turned around and left altogether if he wasn’t attached to your palm. You weren’t used to the noise, to the heave and pull of bodies. It would’ve been unbearable without your anchor.

Arthur, however, walked through it like he knew where he was going, like he was put together in the midst of it, made of the racket. He’d insisted he’d never been but his shoulders parted the crowds easily, footsteps sure and keen, hand wrapped tightly around yours the entire way. He didn’t stop until you were by a table near the front of the stage — one that had been cleared and emptied quickly, frantically, like you were unexpected but valuable all the same.

‘Here, love,’ he said, holding the chair out for you.

‘Thank-you.’ You sat down quickly, eager to be out of the way. The band at the front were mid-set, already roaring, the audience loud and pulsing with alcohol. ‘This is…’ There wasn’t a word. You felt like your mind was rattling in the bend of the nearest trombone.

‘I know,’ Arthur finished, though you’d barely begun, and dropped into the chair beside you. ‘Nothing like this in fuckin’ Small Heath, is there?’

You snorted. ‘It wouldn’t survive if there was.’ The gold would tarnish before it could even be appreciated. ‘Is this what they’re all like?’ you asked, cringing at the volume you had to speak to be heard.

‘Nah, nah,’ he shrugged, ‘just the expensive ones.’ His eyes were on the table, his hands reaching for the small card that sat in its middle. He took it all in like it was Christmas, sank into his seat like he was home. Shoulders softened, angled down, his breathing deep and satisfied. He looked happy, brand-new. His knee fell against yours as he settled. ‘What d’you want?’ he blurted, squinting at the writing in his hands. ‘Somethin’ to drink?’

You didn’t realise you were smiling until it curved your words into a purr. ‘You pick, Arthur. I don’t mind.’

The tone pulled his gaze to you. ‘What?’ He flitted over you quickly, like he was worried you’d done something and he’d missed it. ‘What is it?’

‘You look happy,’ you told him, laughing beneath it. ‘I like it, that’s all.’

He was flustered for a moment. ‘Well, I am happy,’ he said, gruffly, like the sentiment had to be bracketed with something rugged. ‘Bloody happy.’

‘Good. Me too.’ You laughed. Your hand fell away from where it’d been propped under your chin, and went to cover his. The back of his palm was warm, familiar, his thumb lifted to rest over your fingers. ‘Go on, then,’ you pushed, ‘order us something.’

He nodded, smiling, and looked back to the card. He didn’t let you pull your hand away. ‘There’s a poet on next,’ he said. ‘You like that stuff, right?’

Deja Vu. That’s what it was. That’s how he looked at you, that’s how it felt. That’s why you were giddy. It had happened before, all of it, it was youth repackaged and polished into something new. The two of you were exactly the same as you’d always been, except now you’d lived some. Now, you’d realised it was worth trying. Cherishing. You were teenagers without the wanton carelessness, without the desire to stay free and untethered, without the need to ask, but what’s next? What else is there? Where do I go when you’ve left?

You knew the answers now, you’d worked it out.

What came next didn’t matter; everything that was worth having was already there, already found. If you’d rushed, it wouldn’t be so sweet or so certain. You didn’t need to ask him to know he felt the same.

The food they served was small, and designed to be eaten between the pinch of two fingers. He’d picked a few plates to share and you had passed them to each other like you were critics, commenting on the crumb of the biscuits, the seasoning of the fish. You’d laughed and drank, and talked about everything from everywhere, until you were so looped up in each other that his thoughts seemed to come from your head directly. You were talking like you read each others mind, like you’d opened the gate and welcomed him in. Take a seat, Arthur, stay, stay and make it your home.

Eventually, the bar had emptied. The acts had ran their course and people were left dancing to nothing in the space between the tables, with just drink and lingering-energy to keep them upright.

‘Let’s go back,’ you said to him, when you were slouched in your chair with his arm over your shoulder. ‘I can’t stand another thing.’ The room was spinning, swaying, dipping in and out of your head like you were a buoy and he was the tether beneath the waves.

He nodded, his reaction lagged slightly. His fingertips ran up and down your arm. A rake through the leaves, a farmer laying tracks. ‘My head’s in the fuckin’ bin,’ he said.

‘It’s not.’ You turned and put your palms to his cheeks; it would have been sweet if you weren’t so clumsy, so counter-balanced by the gin in your system. ‘Your head’s right here on your lovely shoulders.’

‘Like your book,’ he slurred.

‘What?’

‘You’re gonna say it, you used to.’

‘Say what, Arthur?’

His brows pulled together. ‘The thing,’ he rambled, ‘about your books. Bout me.’

‘You remember that?’

‘Why would I fuckin’ forget, ay?’ He leant away slightly, drifting like the tide, before coming back. Closer. His skin ran hot under your hands. ‘Nicest thing anyone ever told me,’ he said.

And you loved that, and your heart grew so tight in your chest that it might’ve broken free, might’ve pushed through the alcohol, and the ribs, the flesh, so tight that he should’ve felt it; because he was close enough, because he leant forward and you didn’t stop him. You just held his face, his gaze, and he was so warm and so him, that you kissed him.

You kissed him, you kissed him.

His moustache was rough, scratching. His hands dug into your waist like he was pawing for air, like he wanted more of you and you were willing, so willing to give it. When you came away to breathe, he chased you, stupid grin on lips that you had finally tasted. They were sweet. It was alcohol and cigars, and not an ounce of bitterness, not a drop of anything other than him, him just to the core, him and his lips and his breath and his tongue pushing through to meet yours. Christ, Arthur. Christ, you thought, that’s it then. That’s what it’s like.

‘Wanted to do that forever,’ he said, dripping the words down your chin. He pulled back enough to look at you and then kissed you again like he’d left it behind. ‘Took us bloody long enough,’ you thought, but he said it at the same time, words from your head and into his mouth in the same second.  

‘I know,’ you agreed. You were panting so heavily it didn’t even feel like breathing, it felt like storms, like curled winds rutting against each other. ‘Why didn’t we…?’ You couldn’t finish the sentence. Your hands clung to the back of his neck like you were falling. ‘Kiss me again,’ you said, ‘please.’

He did. He kissed you there, in the club, and again in the car on the way to the hotel. In the lift, in the hallway by your room. He kissed and kissed and kissed, and you thought for one, hopeless moment, that maybe you were dreaming, maybe you were asleep in your bed at home, but then he said, ‘I feel like I’ve won the fuckin’ derby,’ against your neck and you laughed so stupidly that it made him pause.

‘What?’ he asked, frowning and smiling at the same time. ‘What’s funny?’

He was over you on the bed, the front of his hair flopping down to cover his brow. You, you thought, you with your hair and your muscles and your lips on my throat like I’m edible.

‘Nothing, nothing.’ You’d gotten drunker somehow. He was more lethal than the cocktails, more dizzying. ‘Can we just,’ you stuttered, ‘just, I don’t know.’ You laughed, and sighed, and then dropped your palms, limp, from his back onto the mattress. ‘I think I’m going crazy from all this kissing. I feel like a kid.’

He barked a laugh, grin mirroring your own, and then rolled off you like he agreed. He fell onto the bed beside you, bouncing it with a groan. ‘Who needs fuckin’ snow, when you can have this,’ he said, chest puffed. Boasted upwards like the ceiling was taunting him. He glanced at you once, then again, and then sighed with a quiet, ‘Fuck me.’

‘I don’t think I can,’ you joked. You could barely handle the kissing.

‘Ey?’

‘What?’ He’d heard you well enough. You flashed him a smile that should’ve been coy but felt wild instead, unmanageable. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ you lied.

‘Is that right?’ He was nearly smiling himself. His gaze fell to your lips before the thing could set. ‘C’mere,’ he said.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ you insisted. ‘I’m having a breather.’

He laughed again and shook his head in the fond way. He was back to looking at the light fitting when he spoke again. ‘Y’know,’ he started, ‘I thought I’d missed it with you, thought I’d let it all slip away between my fuckin’ fingers.’

You’d thought the same, you’d just never acknowledged it. You set your eyes on his profile, on the angle of his nose against the light from the window. Without the gas-lamp outside, he’d be invisible, lost in the dark. You don’t even know what time it was.

‘Everyone knew it would happen,’ you mused. ‘We’re the last to realise, I think.’

It seemed stupid now, utterly ridiculous that you would be anything other than this. The line between you had been crossed, no not crossed, it had been shattered entirely, torn up and thrown in the Thames. You didn’t ever want to be just friends again. There was no reason to draw the line back to where it had been.

‘Not everyone,’ he muttered, voice dropping slightly. ‘Tom couldn’t work you out. Think he thought you was after money, or something. Not,’ his hand lifted, gesturing in circles to the air above him, ‘y’know, not this.’

‘Tommy knew,’ you said, before sense had caught up to your liquored words. ‘He asked me if I wanted you or him.’

‘What?’ His voice soured sharply. ‘He what?’

You’d done it, you’d ruined it. ‘Don’t worry,’ you told him quickly, ‘it wasn’t serious.’

He sat upright, turning and blocking the amber glow from the window. ‘What did he fuckin’ say?’ You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t make out his expression, but the words were hard, pointed. He spat them out, crystal clear through the haze. ‘Ay? The fuck was that?’

‘Arthur, it was just—‘

‘You tell me, tell me now.’

You scrambled into a sitting position. ‘It was just that, just some stupid mind game to see…’ To see what? You’d never even decided yourself. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up, alright? I’m drunk, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Matters to me,’ he bit back. Then he sank slightly. Less angry, more hurt. You pulled toward him, shifting onto your knees to meet him in the middle, to tug at his shirt like you were lamenting.

‘Arthur, baby,’ you said, and his head picked up at that, lifted with the endearment. ‘It’s just what he’s like.’

He grumbled. ‘No fuckin’ excuse.’

‘I know. I know.’ You climbed your palms up his chest until they were on his neck, your thumbs rubbing circles into the stubble beneath his chin. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed,’ you started, tone serious but as light as you could allow, ‘but, well, he’s a prick, Arthur. He just says shit and leaves the rest of us to deal with it.’

His hands stilled your wrists. You just about made his iris’s out in the dark. ‘What did he say?’ he asked slowly, his words firm enough that you couldn’t bat it away like before.

You sighed. It didn’t matter, it really didn’t matter. After the night you’d had it was almost laughable to think about; if you could go back in time, you’d tell Tommy outright how stupid he was to even suggest it. ‘He asked if I was serious about you,’ you offered Arthur, ‘and I told him yes.’

He twitched his head to the side. ‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’m not.’ It wasn’t fully the truth, but it wasn’t so far from it that you felt guilty. ‘He asked, very rudely, if I was ever going to sleep with you.’

‘You said—‘

‘Arthur,’ you interrupted, snapping at him. ‘Why does it matter what he said, when my answer was yes? That I chose you?’

And you always had; you always would.

‘Let Tommy play his little games,’ you continued. ‘You have me.’

He groaned; the noise slipped out of him, strung out of his mouth like the whine of an injured animal. ‘I’m getting sick of hearing his fuckin’ name,’ he said, and you knew he meant from you, from your lips. It came out and sat between the two of you like chainlink. ‘I never know what to bloody think.’

You laughed dryly. ‘That makes two of us.’ You touched his face, brushed his cheek, felt the line of his moustache. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil this.’

‘You haven’t.’

‘I feel like I have.’

With a sigh, his arms wound up around you, bringing you close and onto his lap once you’d pulled your legs through. ‘So, I have you, eh?’ he asked gently, close enough that you almost felt the rumble of it in your chest. ‘You’re all mine?’ He held you like a prize, inspected you like he did with everything he loves; noted the details like he would before, when he drew horses, and people, and everything else that he thought was beautiful. 'Isn’t that something,’ he commented. Quiet, just to himself.

You toyed with his collar. ‘Didn’t you know that already?’

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he kissed you roughly, like he was suddenly desperate for it, and the pair of you melted backwards into the sheets. His hands were on your neck,  then along your ribcage and down, down, smoothing down until they hit the soft dip of your waist, the curve of your hips. He squeezed you there, pushed you flat, held his thumbs to your hipbones tight enough to pinch the skin.

‘Can we?’ you asked, surprised that it came out so steadily. So calmly. You twisted your hand into the top of his hair and watched his gaze lift, scorching into your own.

‘You want to?’

You nodded, humming. You had never imagined you could, never imagined you actually would, but now it seemed easy. Natural. You let a smile fall into place. ‘But,’ you teased, not meaning it in the slightest, ‘I might change my mind if you keep me waiting any longer.’

He didn’t hesitate; he met your lips again, hungrily, careless in a way he wasn’t before. His hands went into your hair and then it was your turn to drop, to explore.

You ran your fingertips along the line of buttons down his chest, pulled them apart and away from each other slowly, like you had the time. Because it was London, because it was the two of you, and nothing else, and time had been left back in Birmingham with the smog. His shirt fell open; you dragged your nails down his ribs, his stomach, over the straight hair that scattered from his navel. When your hands found the fastening of his trousers, he pulled back to pant against your neck.

His lips went against the skin clumsily, dragging heat and lust over the goosebumps. ‘I want you,’ he said between breaths, ‘so bad.’

‘I know.’

‘But.’

You undid the fastening, slipped a hand between the cotton.

‘But,’ he rasped again, stilling you, ‘I don’t think I can, love.’

‘What?’ You pulled your hand back. His head dropped until his hair brushed your collarbone, his chest heaving into yours. ‘What’s wrong?’ you asked.

‘Been a long day,’ he said, pushing the words into the space between your breasts. ‘I’ve drank a lot.’ He kissed your shoulder, your earlobe, then pulled back to face you remorsefully. ‘I don’t think I can,’ he grumbled. He looked between you, down at himself, and then back to explain. ‘It won’t, you know, well.’

‘Oh.’ The meaning clicked and you felt yourself melt with relief. It wasn’t you, then. Wasn’t serious. He was sweeter every day, every moment. If you told anyone about the Arthur you knew, the one straddling you with shame printed onto his features, they wouldn’t believe you. They’d say you had the wrong man entirely. ‘It’s fine,’ you told him earnestly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s okay, we can just sleep, Arthur, really.’

He smiled and brought your hand up to kiss the palm. ‘Too good to me,’ he said.

‘No one’s too good to anyone,’ you said back.

‘Here.’ He dropped your hand again, pulling close to kiss beneath your jaw. ‘Just cause I can’t,’ he whispered, ‘doesn’t mean…’

‘Arthur.’

His lips dripped down your neck, your chest. His face lost itself in the fabric of your dress as he bunched the skirt up and out of the way. You felt your breath flush once, twice, three times out your mouth as he rolled the wool of your tights to your knees, his hands firm and certain. Positive of their mission. Your cheeks grew hot, firecrackers snapping across your skin, down your legs. Lighting in your blood like he’d timed it all. He was saying things into you, against the silk, his voice low and rough, but you could hardly hear him through the thumping in your ears.

‘Arthur,’ you breathed, sounding as desperate as you felt, ‘you don’t have to.’

His nails caught the skin on your hips as he tugged your underwear down and then you stopped lying to him, you stopped acting like you didn’t want it. Your hips lifted to meet his mouth, but he pushed them back, held them down. You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, squeezed them shut as his moustache brushed the inner portion of your thighs, as his hands put your legs flat to the bed.

‘Let me take care of you,’ he said, or you thought he did, because it had all begun to swirl into one roar of noise, one rush of heat and feeling from your head, through your heart. It flooded you and it was him, all him. He had possessed you. Taken your brain and turned it to mush.

You pulled the sheets into your fists and let him unwind you, let him pull you apart.

Arthur, you moaned, Arthur, you thought, Arthur. Arthur.

Read part 9 >>>

____

taglist: @peaky-arthur @theshelbyclan @woeisbutwoe @random-stupid-stuffs @murderousginger @sanktaalinaa @the-panda-man-stole-my-soul @inceptenet @isaiahdurag

[cowperviolet]

Before Gatsby: the Wildest Parties of the 1900′s

Contrary to what the popular imagination and Julian Fellowes tell us, the upper-class entertainment in the Edwardian era wasn’t all staid dinner parties and debutante balls. If Horrible Histories are ever going to have a book dedicated to this specific decade, I wish they would name it The Extra Edwardians. I couldn’t  incorporate all this info into my own f/f Edwardian WIP, so I’d be very glad to share it with you.

If you are a histfic writer looking to spice up your WIP, your characters can take the cues from:

- Marchesa Casati. A daughter of a fabulously wealthy Italian industrialist and a wife of an equally fabulously wealthy Marquis, she lived in Venice, where she could be glimpsed down the Grand Canal under a parasol of peacock feathers, and was dubbed ‘a sun-goddess’ by her contemporaries. When the cloudy sky dared to threaten her party’s Aesthetic, she strung up an artificial moon that actually moved against the sky. She also kept a whole menagerie of pumas and leopards, and commissioned satin-lined boxes from her jewellers so that she could travel with her snakes. She had one particular snake with a golden hue wrapped around her neck sometimes and tricked some guests into thinking it a necklace... until it started to move. Her iconic Look consisted of whitened face, black-lined eyes, and auburn-dyed hair piled high. Think David Bowie meets Queen Elizabeth. 

- George Kessler. He made his fortune in the Gilded Age New York as American agent for Moët & Chandon, and spent it rather creatively. His Gondola Party in 1905 could give anything conceived in the Roaring Twenties a run for its money. At first, he wanted to hire a dirigible to perch atop the roof of the Savoy Hotel (as one does) and have his guests dine while floating several hundred feet above the city. After the Savoy objected for some reason, Kessler spent $15,000 to Venice-ize the hotel’s ballroom and courtyard instead. The courtyard was flooded to create a lagoon, and live goldfish, swans, and ducks were let into the water. 120 electricians wired tiny electric lights into the ceiling to create the effect of a starlit sky. 80 guests dined aboard a giant gilded gondola, served by waiters dressed as gondoliers, while Enrico Caruso serenaded them. To mark the end of the evening, a baby elephant called Jumbo Junior was led in. He was carrying on his back an enormous cake.

(His comparatively more modest party included transforming the same hotel’s winter garden into the vision of a North Pole, creating ‘snowdrifts’ out of silver tissue and hiring an army of dwarves dressed as snowmen to be the waiters)

- Anyone swept by the Ballets Russes craze of 1911. The fashionable London hostesses were lucky that Anna Pavlova was so petite, or else they would not have been able to fit her into those large baskets of roses they had her carried into their drawing rooms in to perform at their parties. 

- The Savoy Ball. This fancy dress ball offered 250 guineas and a four-hundred-stone diamond and gold pendant as a prize for the best costume in 1913. The competition was stiff: there was Earl of Shrewsbury as an Apache Indian with full feather headdress and a knife, Princess Kawananako of Honolulu in a cape of yellow feathers worn over a black dress (forming, together, the colours of the Honolulu flag), and Jennie Cornwallis-West, a.k.a. Churchill’s mother, as Empress Theodora in an embroidered Byzantine cape, not to mention the countless Pompadours and medieval princesses. Anna Pavolva ended up being a runner-up, getting a 60 guinea-worth beauty case for her native Russian costume. 

- Lady Michelham. Her approach was more elegant than over-the-top, but still:  one course at her dinner partly was made to resemble a lighthouses, surrounded by ortolans representing seagulls, with surf made of white sauce. Also, those handwritten menus inscribed on the surface of water-lily leaves were nice.

- Hector Baltazzi. He was so exhiliarated by winning the Derby once that he had his chef float a pearl in every plate of watercress soup served at the celebratory dinner party. 

[fics-kats-procrastination]

Elevators and Disneyland (Chris Evans x Reader)

Word Count: 2.5k

Requested: No

A/N: I’ve thought about making a second part to this depicting their day in Disneyland, so let me know if y’all would want that! (: Also, GIF not mine. Credit to whoever made it. 

     It’s common knowledge that everyone is born with a soulmark that leads a person to their other half. Their perfect someone. A human being with a soul crafted entirely with the intention to complete someone else. Soulmarks are an outline of a hand or finger, placed precisely where a person’s soulmate will touch them for the first time. Once the soulmates have touched, the outline fills in with the soulmate’s favorite color. Unfortunately, your soulmark is still just an outline of a handprint on the right side of your waist. The palm resting above your right hip while the fingers press against the soft skin of your lower back. 

   As a child, the story of how your parents met was used to lull you to sleep. It was your favorite bedtime story. Although you never worried much about meeting your soulmate during the stress-free years of elementary school, the thought of meeting your significant other ran rampant in your mind once you reached your teenage years. Growing up in a small town meant that 97% of people met their soulmate during high school; however, you weren’t one of those people. You graduated from high school with a black outline while the rest of your senior class graduated with a variety of colors painting their skins and massive grins etching their lips. Knowing that your significant other didn’t live in your town, you left home and headed upstate for university. After completing two years and still majoring in undecided, the enticement of a gap year made itself known, leading you to where you are now. 

     You and your best friend, Y/F/N, are currently soaking in the last rays of California’s setting sun by the hotel pool. A vacation to Disneyland was sure to kick a gap year off right and hopefully help you narrow down what career path to take. Y/F/N is lying on her front, eyes closed as she listens to whatever song is on her playlist. Her feet lightly bobbing in time to the music. Meanwhile, you are sitting up in a sun lounger, attention divided between relaxing in the heat or ignoring text messages from your family. While you believe taking a year off from schooling is in your best interest, your parents and siblings feel as though it’s a reckless move. They have no problem making you aware of their dissatisfaction either. 

     A muffled vibration from your hand causes one of your eyelids to drift open so you can lazily peek at your phone screen. Instead of another text message, like you had expected, a tweet from one of your favorite actors popped up in your notifications. You make a mental note to read it later before you casually shove Y/F/N’s shoulder. Y/F/N’s head lifts languidly from her arms and she pulls out an earbud to talk to you. “Are you ready to head back up to the room?” You ask, noticing that the sun is barely visible between the many hotels surrounding your own. Y/F/N nods, sits up, and stretches her arms over her head before grabbing her towel to wrap it firmly around her body. 

     “Do you have the room key?” Y/F/N wonders. “I didn’t bring mine, so I hope that you remembered to grab yours otherwise we’re locked out.” A cheeky smile accompanies the teasing words she throws at you. Rolling your eyes, you stand up and copy Y/F/N’s earlier actions, wrapping the towel around your body to hold in all of the warmth you gained from California’s hot sun. The pair of you pad over to the outside door where you swipe your keycard with an obnoxious grin directed at Y/F/N. The flashing green lights signal that the door unlocked, so Y/F/N tugs the door open, allowing you both to waddle inside. 

     Cool air from the hotel’s air conditioner greets you causing goosebumps to rise along your exposed legs. You silently curse at the temperature change while hurrying over to the elevator. Y/F/N follows closely behind, grumbling to herself. Repeatedly pressing the call button for the elevator, you tug your towel tighter around your frame. “Why is it always so cold in hotels?” You rhetorically mutter as the elevator dings. “Thank the lord!” Y/F/N and yourself enter the, thankfully empty, metal box; you press the button for floor 17 on the control panel as Y/F/N presses herself into the corner in a half-hearted attempt to gain more heat. “Okay,” you begin once the elevator has started it’s ascent, “what’s tomorrow’s Disney action plan?”

     Immediately Y/F/N begins gushing about what rides she wishes to go on first tomorrow and which rides could be saved for a later day on your trip; however, you’re only half-listening because the elevator stops on floor 9 to pick up three new male passengers, all of them fit, attractive, and wearing ball-caps as well as sunglasses. There’s something about the blue NASA hat that catches your eye. You squint, studying the cap more intently until you notice the wearer of it flashing you a timid smile, fidgeting with his long fingers. You offer him an apologetic smile for the obvious discomfort you caused him and allow yourself to tune back into Y/F/N’s rambling. “-Mountain needs to be done first thing though!” 

     “Of course!” You agree, trying to appear excited about the following day, although you’re not sure if you caught anything she said. The elevator steadily climbs, reaching around floor 15 before the lights flicker followed by an unusual rumble. A pit forms in your stomach while all of the elevator’s occupants glance unsurely at one another. Your anxiety climbs when the elevator screeches to a halt, causing you to drop the towel and be thrown into the arms of Mr. NASA. His right arm wraps around your waist to catch you and press you firmly to his steady frame. One of your hands land on his bicep while the other presses against his pec in an attempt to steady your own frame. Heart pounding as you right yourself and push your hair out of your eyes with shaking hands, you spare a quick glance around the elevator before asking, “Is everyone alright?”

     Y/F/N pulls herself up from the ground with help from one of the other men on board. A gasp settles in your throat, but doesn’t escape, when you recognize the person aiding your best friend. Although his hair is cropped shorter than previous press junkets and he has more color in his cheeks, you’re positive that you’re standing in the same elevator as Sebastian Stan. His hat and sunglasses lay askew on the floor. “Wait, Y/N!” Y/F/N shouts once she’s fully standing again. Her eyes grow wide, and she crosses the elevator in two long strides before she’s gripping your arm to force you into turning more towards Mr. NASA. His hands automatically find your hips when you stumble a bit from your friend’s enthusiastic push. “Holy…” She trails off and you feel her touch, lighter than air, drawing on the bare skin of you back, visible thanks to your swimsuit’s cutout. 

     “No way!” A deeper voice joins in on Y/F/N’s speculation. A shiver runs down your spine when her touch raises goosebumps on your flesh but your attention is focused on the new speaker. He’s got a slight accent that you're able to connect to Louisiana, New Orleans to be specific. He reaches up to put his sunglasses over the bill of his hat. You notice his eyes trailing along the spot Y/F/N’s still softly tracing-a corner of your mind makes note that Y/F/N’s fingers are doodling the empty, colorless space of your soulmark-before they trail up your arm and Mr. NASA’s arm, settling on Mr. NASA’s broad, strong chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me, bro! Take off your shirt. Take it off,” he bugs NASA. 

     NASA lightly steps away from you with a scoff, exasperation coloring his tone. “I’m not just gonna take my shirt off, Mackie!” Anthony Mackie rolls his eyes at the answer and steps closer to the other male. Anthony reaches for the hem of NASA’s shirt, resulting in NASA swatting at the offending appendages. “Stop it, man!”

     “Take it off, man or I’ll take it off you!”

     “I’m not going to take it off. Stop it!”

     “You made me do this!”

     Soothing motions across your back tear your gaze from the small argument in front of you back to Y/F/N. “Could you please stop that?” You question, goosebumps still littering your skin when she finally stops the constant, moving pressure. Sebastian’s head cocks toward you as you turn to face Y/F/N again instead of NASA. About to thank her for ceasing, your eye catches on a new color in the reflective surface of the elevator’s wall. 

     A small noise of confusion leaves your lips as you twist and turn your hips in an attempt to better stare at the skin there. One last wriggle before the reflection is clear, heart beginning to race faster than a horse at the Kentucky Derby. Your mouth drops open while your eyebrows furrow, hands trying futilely to pull your skin closer to your own eyes. “Judging from your reaction, I’m assuming that hasn’t always been like that?” Sebastian’s inquiry takes you by surprise because...no, it HASN’T always been like this. It’s never looked like this before now! Where a thick black outline of a handprint used to rest, blooming drops of navy blue have filled the entirety of the space. There wasn’t a spot left within the border that your skin was visible thru. 

     Your gaze snaps up to meet Y/F/N’s own ecstatic stare, your hands numbly dropping from their hold on your hips to rest by your side. “Oh...oh!” Pressing a palm to your temple, your body leans until the wall of the elevator is at your back, supporting you as you slide down it to sit. A trembling finger points accusingly at the attractive man still arguing with Anthony. “Y-you’re...you’re my soul…you’re my soulmate!” 

     In spite of your voice being barely louder than a kitten’s snore, both men stop talking and snap their heads towards you. A self-satisfied smirk rests on Anthony’s lips as he cockily says, “Take your shirt off, man.” Eyes slightly glazed over but filled with curiosity, you look over at NASA who takes off his hat and sunglasses then grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and tosses it over his head too quickly for you to see his face. You’re desperate to see what handsome features accompany this Adonis-like body, yet you let your eyes drop to roam over his chest and arms. A splash of Y/F/C dances along his left pec enhancing the same color being sported by his right bicep. A choked off gasp comes from your throat and your breathing becomes shallower the moment you allow yourself to see his face. 

     Eyes bluer than the clearest waters are framed by the thickest set of dark brown eyelashes. They’re overset by well-kept eyebrows, in a shade of hazelnut that perfectly match the messy hat hair he’s currently supporting. A nose shaped like a ski-slope sits proportionately on his face and draws attention down to a full pair of lips. His upper lip is carnation pink and slightly skinnier than the lower lip it rests against but that thought flees your mind when a shy smile causes his mouth to quirk upward while revealing two rows of shiny white teeth, straightened perfectly by years of dental work. Although there’s some light scruff dusting his cheeks and jawline that causes your cheeks to flush, you can tell he was clean shaven a few days ago and your heart lurches at the appealing thought. His tongue quickly peeks out to wet his lower lip while he tries to come up with words to explain the unneeded tension in the atmosphere. You beat him to it.

     “You’re Chris Evans.”

     Chris stares at the floor, gaze resting on his feet that are gently shuffling. His hand rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks flushed with color. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage, sweetheart,” he chuckles, Bostonian accent thick on his tongue. Heat rushes to your cheeks at the familiar sound of his voice. Memories of all the times you’ve gushed with Y/F/N over how attractive Captain America is floods through your brain making the light pink color dusted on your face darken to a rosier hue. A quick glance at Y/F/N’s face assures you that she’s thinking the same thing especially when her eyes meet yours and she laughs awkwardly, cheeks rosy as well. Since he hasn’t received an answer, Chris sweetly prompts again, “What’s your name?” 

     “I’m Y/N,” you answer, a soft grin tugging at your lips that mirrors the one on Chris’ face. Although, you have to admit that the action looks much more enticing on his beautiful features. A strong lurch pushes you against the elevator wall, and soon the elevator is making its ascent once more. Floor 16 passes quickly and soon the elevator stops on your floor. Y/F/N bids goodbye to everyone with a sweet smile and a light wave while stepping out of the elevator. She pauses once outside as she notices that you haven’t followed her. “Oh, this...this is my floor…” you nervously chuckle as you reluctantly side step Chris to exit. You do so and begin to walk away before you whip around and shove your hand into the doors to stop them from closing. You’re able to catch a glimpse of Chris’ downfallen face light up.  “Wait!” You exclaim, “We’re going to Disneyland tomorrow,” you motion between Y/F/N and yourself. “Would you three like to join us?” 

     An awkward silence follows your bombardment. The longer it stretches, the more the smile falls from your lips and the more you’re starting to feel like a fool for even asking. They probably had more important things to be doing than going to Disneyland with you guys. They’re celebrities for crying out loud. Disappointment washes over you and you nod gently while stepping back from the elevator. “Or not. That’s cool too. You’re probably really busy. So um...yeah, I’ll just see you guys another time.” You turn and give Y/F/N a grimace and a shrug. Her comforting gaze just makes you feel even worse. You both start to walk back to your room. 

     “No! We would love to go to Disneyland with you!” Chris proclaims, causing you to turn back to face them. He’s halfway out of the elevator and reaching toward you like he was going to stop you from leaving. “I mean, we’re free tomorrow and Disneyland sounds like a great way to spend a free day.” Matching smiles light up your faces. You can’t wait for tomorrow. 

[sickhumor]

Totally tasteless jokes

HIS BIDDY The Schmidlaps wake up one day and Mrs. Schmidlap says, "Last night I had a dream that they were auctioning off male parts. Big ones were $100 and small ones were $10." Mr. Schmidlap says, "What about something like mine?" She says, "They were giving them away." Mr. Schmidlap says, "Well, I had a dream myself. I had a dream that they were auctioning off female parts. Small ones were $100 and big ones were $10." She says, "What about something like mine?" He says, "That's where they had the auction." _____________________________ Did you hear about the fly on the toilet seat? He got pissed off. _____________________________ Did you hear about the gay whale? He bit the end off a submarine and sucked out all the seamen. ____________________________ Where do you get leukemia-flavored ice cream? From the Good Tumor man. ____________________________ A kid from Australia comes to New York City, meets a hooker, and she takes him to a hotel room. She takes off her shirt, and the kid throws a chair out the window. She takes off her pants, and the kid throws the bed out the window. The hooker says, "Heyl Do you have any idea what we're gonna do?" The kid says, "l think I do, ma'am, and if it's anything like it is with a kangaroo, we're gonna be needing all the room we can get!" ____________________________ Two sea gulls are flying over the Kentucky Derby. The first one says, "l'm gonna put everything l've got on No. 7." ____________________________ What's the difference between an epileptic corn husker and a hooker with diarrhea? An epileptic corn husker shucks between fits. ____________________________ Dirty Johnny's mother catches him jerking off. She says, "Son, don't do that! Save it until you're 21." By the time he was 21, he had nine jars. ____________________________ What's brown and sounds like a bell? Dung. _____________________________ The Drinkwiski family is sitting around the living room. Mrs. Drinkwiski turns to her husband and says, "Let's send the kids out back to P-l-a-y so we can fuck!" Old Playboy Party Jokes A young second lieutenant walked into the enlisted men's game room, where two privates were shooting pool. He asked one if he had change for the soda machine. "Sure, pal," the private replied, pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. "You have a clear disregard for military protocol, Private," the officer bellowed. "Now, let's try this again. Salute and address me as 'sir' this time." "No, sir," the enlisted man said with a smart salute, "I dont have any change." _____________________________ Graffito, spotted on a rest-room wall: "Dyslexics, Untie! _____________________________ As the veteran rodeo star sipped coffee in a cafe, an awe-struck young man approached him. "Are you a real cowboy?" he asked. "Sure am, son," the cowboy answered. "See this hat? When I'm out on the range, it protects me from the sun and rain. The kerchief keeps the dust out of my nose. And the chaps protect my legs from the sagebrush." The young man's eyes slowly dropped to the cowboy's feet. "My tennis shoes," he explained, "are to prove that I aint no damn California truck driver." _____________________________ The proprietor of a Chinese restaurant left the store early to attend an employee's bachelor party. Many hours later, he returned home, crawled into bed and, feeling horny, woke his wife and asked for a little 69. "It's three o'clock in the morning," she hissed, "and you want chicken and broccoli?" _____________________________ We know a local cemetery whose custom is to bury lawyers 12 feet under, because deep down, they're good people. _____________________________ A German shepherd went into a Western Union office, took out a blank form and wrote, "Woof . . . woof . . . woof . . . woof . . . woof . . . woof ... woof ... woof ... woof." The clerk examined the paper. "There are only nine words here," he said. "You could send another'woof'for the same price." "But," the dog replied, "that would be silly." _____________________________

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

1831 Thursday 13 October

7 10/.. 12 40/..

Great deal of rain in the night but apparently fair at 7 10/.. and, now at 8, at which hour Fahrenheit 64°. - out at 8 1/2 - Went into the bookseller's shop opposite - bought Chichester guide - they did not burn the bp. [bishop] last night in effigy - the police interfered and prevented the burning - but all the people seem reformers, moderate or radical - then sauntered down to the Cathedral stopping as I went to admire the beautiful gothic market place a little below the hotel (The Swan) -

A verger went all round the cathedral with me and to the top of the tower (about 248 steps) from which springs the steeple, within the latter is a sort of scaffollding by which to secure four ladders, of 40 feet long each, hung, as it were, in air one above another and by which the workmen ascend, and, when at the top, if anything is to be done outside (which has happened without accident 4 or 6 times in the time of this verger, a singing boy in the cathedral 40 years ago) they make a hole in the stone work, and put up a scaffolding on the outside of the steeple - too hazy to see Chichester steeple, or the Portsmouth or the Isle of Wight - but good bird's eye view of the town - not large - merely high Street good and another goodish street or 2 the west Sussex and East Hampshire infirmary is a large handsome looking plain building stone or stuccoed - a small part of boulevard or old rampart left, shaded by 2 rows of fine large elms, the only town walk the inhabitants have - the corporation sold all the rest long ago by bit and bit and it is all built upon - Both inside and outside of the cathedral exceedingly plain - round Saxon arches - no ornament - the interior has been lately cleaned and scraped, so that, the white and yellow wash being gone, the natural colour of the stone is left with great advantage - saw no painted glass -

View of Chichester Cathedral in 1833 by Joseph Francis Gilbert [Image Source]

Walked all thro' the cloisters (3 sides of a square remarkably neat and well kept - roof not underdrawn - of the sweet or chesnut eatable wood that, as is the rest of the cathedral, which spiders have an aversion to, and therefore not a spider's web to be seen - thro' the cloisters, and entered by the South transept door - on one side (right) paintings of all the bps. [bishops] - on the other all the Kings from William the conqueror down to Henry 8 when they were done - this transept screened off by the tomb of St. Richard once famous for the miracles done at his shrine in this cathedral - the transepts communicate with the side aisles of the nave and choir which last takes in the part under the tower roofed in the same height as the rest of the choir - instead of tabernacle work, plain gothicized sort of wainscot of deal painted darkish brown with gild gothic mouldings - looks much better than might be fancied from the description - beyond the choir the Sanctum Sanctorum, a presbytery - handsome and spacious - 2 fine columns of darkish porphyry like Sussex marble (from near Horsham) with 4 smaller columns clustering round them - from the east end of presbytery descend by a few steps into the fine large well-aired vault of the duke of Richmond made in 1750 the 1st. duke buried in westminster abbey till taken up and brought here - 20 coffins there - the broad brickwork bench on which they stand is on arches to prevent damp and there are open windows on each side that the place is as sweet as any other part of the church -

Above the duke's vault is what was the Lady's chapel to which one ascends by a few steps - now the library - in a line with the choir, but much lower - small library - the chapter holds its meetings there - some old brass plates (like small bread and butter plates) a chalice etc. and inscription of William the conqueror's time taken from the tomb of the 2nd bishop - (translated by the reverend Thomas Valentine prebendary of Selsea - the organ is of the time of Charles 2nd - the choir screen very plain gothic of time Henry 6 - 3 pointed arches the middle one much the narrowest - no transept aisles - double aisles on each side nave and choir - fine specimen of quite plain old Saxon - church consecrated 12 September 1199 - believes there is an error about this date in the guide book - several errors - records not consulted that ought and might have been - the belfry tower not mentioned save in a note of errata - a large good loking looking square gothic tower, a little distance from the church built for the bells because of the injury they might do the steeple, as said the verger guide -

The choir at Chichester Cathedral [Image Source]

In returning, sauntered along High street in spite of its raining a little bought sponge, and a pair of strong leather shoes at a venture - back at 11 50/60 and from then to 1 25/.. breakfast and read the Times - sad rioting work at Derby - and the mob burnt down the duke of Newcastle's Nottingham castle, to the ground on Monday - Very comfortable at Chichester - the Swan a very good Inn-

Off at 1 35/.. - Goodwood (3 miles from Chichester) plantations (duke of Richmond) stretch along the range of down (down) at a little distance north of the town - the duke getting rich - a good economist - has bought a great many farms lately in this neighbourhood - at 1 3/4 pass road (left) to Goodwood and in 5 mins. [minutes] more get a peep of the house - oblong - south part a pediment in the middle and a round topped little round tower at each corner - flattish all around after leaving the Goodwood downs, and not very interesting drive till alight at the Norfolk arms Arundel at 3 10/.. - wait for my 2 servants -

At 3 55/.. at the castle - stands high, on a chalk hill - the low rich ground (some of it let at 6 guins. [guineas] an acre belongs great part to the duke great to the corporation) about it, supposed to have been covered by the sea at the time the castle was first built by the Romans - (no date of the castle) - In proof of the retiring of the sea, anchors and other marine implements have been found on digging - at present this low land forms quite a basin round particularly in front south of the castle - the river Arun running along it with remarkable windings - but if it was not for these windings - these great détours - the tide comes up so strongly that it would force the water, so back as to make it overflow this low land - the Arun runs to the sea and to the Thames - and navigable all the way, sometimes by canal-cuts - the man who shewed the house said Arundel was originally perhaps Arundale -

Arundel Castle c1880 [Image Source]

Magnificent castle - the old ruins fine - particularly the great old ivy covered round Keep Tower where we afterwards saw the 7 large horned american owls - but the present house built on the old site, partly keeping up the old walls (4, and, in places, 5 yards thick) by the late duke, who spent above 30 years and £600,000 in doing it, unfinished as he died and left it - on entering the court, the building forms nearly 3 sides of a square - or a centre and wings - centre 4 stories high - entrance (rather projecting) with its large windows above and on each side of it, 4 tiers of 2 three light windows = 8 - on entering (right) baronial hall and unfinished chapels - (left) library and unfinished saloon - baronial hall tho' not quite finished very fine - magnificent oak plain gothic groined roof - capital model for the hall at Shibden? - chapel a heap of brick and rubbish within not seeable - ditto the saloon -

But the mahogany lined, beautifully gothic wrought library tower which cost above £30,000 - far the most beautiful library I ever beheld anywhere - from the baronial hall, we saw dining room breakfast room fine drawing room etc. (the centre divided by fine long gallery) but I skip all to get to the library - 130 feet long - gallery round mid-height the room and all the windows above the gallery - the galleries finished at the top like aisles, and the middle part finished likewise at the top and partly for a gallery, library, museum! 3 arcades and a sort of transept. then 3 arcades more at the other end - 6 windows on each side, and one transept window on each side = 14 windows - two beautiful white marble chimney pieces on the same side (north east side) that were bought by the late duke at the sale of the duke of Bedford's house in Bloomsbury square pulled down about 38 years ago - of the 1st. chimney piece the 2 large supporting figures are whole lengths of Socrates and Plato, with a square medallion of Archimedes and his attributes in the centre of the architrave - one of the figures of the other chimney piece is said to be Æsculapius - library walls 4 yards thick - the library windows outside seem large churchlike windows - the lower 1/2 of them lights the library - the upper lights rooms above -

The library at Arundel Castle [Photo by Des Morris]

The castle and its fortifications stands on 5 1/2 acres of ground - the man thought the baronial hall must be 45 feet high - and the drawing room 25 feet high - he recommended me to see Bignall - the fine old Roman mosaic pavement discovered there - 7 miles from here - on the Petworth road - turn off 4 miles from here at the public house at the foot of Bury hill - 1 5/.. hour in the castle - 20 mins. [minutes] at the old round keep tower and 10 mins. [minutes] looking round about the castle - there is a narrow way and parapet wall all round the front towards the town and the south -

Home at 5 35/.. washed hands had hair done etc. - dinner at 6 in 3/4 hour - then till 8 40/.. wrote all the above of today - very glad to have come round to see this castle - the present duke does nothing at it - leaves all unfinished or not just as the late duke left - the present one has lately bought a large estate here of a Mr. Walker - I look everywhere for models for Shibden - I must be contented to do as little at it as possible - my ideas are too apt to grow too large - from 8 3/4 to 11 1/2 at my travelling account and to my great joy brought it down to tonight - oh! that my private account, cashbook and all the rest were equally well done! - but what I have done is better than nothing - I must work at the rest for a day or 2 in London - a little rain while out this morning at Chichester and a little also as I came here but afterwards (from 3 p.m.) fair - Fahrenheit 65°. now at 11 1/2 - Came to my room at 11 40/.. -  

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/14/0134 - SH:7/ML/E/14/0135

[psycheswritings]

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Eleven

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, angst and mentions of death and war.

Word Count: 6018 (I know and I am sorry)

Author’s Note: Here we go again with another update. Hope you are all well and safe with this whole pandemic thing. Take care of yourselves and the people around you.

Not much to say about this chapter, so I am just going to show my gratitude towards @internalmess3​ for being so kind and sweet and supporting me through the process of writing this chapter - you're incredible and I am so grateful to you! Thanks for everyone, EVERY SINGLE SOUL, who has been reading this fic and commenting/leaving likes. Seriously, that's what makes me keep writing and I LOVE to read your thougths about the plot and the characthers. Don't feel shy in coming talk to me.

You know the drill, if you find any mistakes feel free to report it back to me. Tags are at the end of the post and if you want to be added, let me know. Your feedback is highly appreciated. Happy reading.

WARNING: this fic (as most part of my works) is also been posted on FF and AO3.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Tommy meets Campbell to talk about the plans to kill the Field Marshall while Daphne is trying to adpat herself to living alone. She and William take a walk down memory lane, rememoring how they met and Tommy pays her a visit. The Brummie gangster negotiates with Alfie and they both end up discussing their feelings for Daphne.

Eleven

Tommy had told Lizzie to let Campbell into his office at the pretense that he was parking his car. It was the first time they would meet after his plan to make the Field Marshall leave his house got into work and he wanted to take the Irishman out of guard - and so he did.

“I keep everything locked up, Mr. Campbell. Everything of value.” Campbell looked up at him as he closed the door, a little more forcibly than necessary, on purpose. The man was rummaging through his desk and by the look on his face he certainly wasn’t expecting being caught. Tommy hang his coat, clearing his throat before walking towards the desk. “Take a seat.”

“How is your company treasurer, Polly?” The Irishman asked as he bypasses the desk to stand in the opposite side from Tommy.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh. Just give her my regards.” Tommy finds the questioning odd but decides to brush it off as he searches for his cigar case, taking one and lightening it. “Ah! You like to play with fire, don't you, Mr. Shelby? Yesterday, in Belgravia, Field Marshall Russell's house was burnt out. An incendiary device was put through his letter box. Which means that he will have to find somewhere else to live for at least the next three months.”

“Which also means that your plan for me to break in and shoot him in his bed is no longer an operational possibility.” Tommy states what they both already know, calmly, a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Indeed, but if you think a wee burn frees you from your obligations, think again…”

“I will keep my side of the bargain.”

“Oh, by God, you will.”

“I will shoot your Field Marshal. But I will do it in a way that serves my purpose.” Campbell is still standing in front of him, both hands holding the cane, clearly riled up by the change of plans.

“The only purpose is my purpose.”

“I will carry out the assassination at a place of my choosing.” The Irishman takes a step towards the desk as he speaks.

“Listen to me. All operational detail must be mutually agreed…”

“I am a soldier of experience and I will determine where and when…”

“Now, that man has twenty-four-hour armed police protection…”

“Your plan was full of holes, Mr. Campbell.”

“My plan was mutually agreed!”

“And now your plan is up in smoke! And I have formulated the only viable alternative.”

“For God's sake. What do you mean? How would you get to him?” Tommy takes a drag from his cigarette, taking his time to answer.

“I won't. He'll come to me.”

“Now listen to me, Mr. Shelby. When this meeting is concluded I must report directly to Mr. Winston Churchill.”

“Your relationship with Mr. Churchill is not my concern.” The Brummie answers nonchalantly.

“And Mr. Winston Churchill will need to hear details.”

“Well, you tell him he'll have to trust me.” They glare at each other for a second, then Tommy speaks again. “Look, Mr. Campbell, I will carry out my mission.”

“Good.”

“Good. But I will do it in a place where it will be impossible for you or your men to have me shot afterwards.” Campbell shifts in his place. “Because that was your plan, eh? Coopers front and back. No way out. Me shot dead, dumped in the Thames. I will do the killing, but in a place where that will not be an option.”

“Where and when?”

“Epsom. Derby day.”

#* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #* #

After one week of living in the hotel Daphne decides to rent a flat. It’s the logical thing to do, she thinks to herself, so she can have more privacy and start doing things her way. Her relationship with Alfie was still strained and they were sticking to talk just about business because every time the topic changed they ended up fighting and it seemed that the both of them were tired of it. William and Harriet helped her accommodate in the new place.

She had been avoiding to talk about certain topics with Harriet because she knew how the woman was caught in the crossfire and a part of her, the one who still cared for Alfie, wanted him to have some sort of support system because if she knew him well enough, he was most certainly trying to pretend that everything was fine. Ada was out of town - they have talked over the phone and the Shelby sister assured Daphne that everything was alright between them - so she was relaying on the last person she had left - William.

Since their conversation at the hotel, their first one after she had left Alfie’s house, Daphne had been thinking about the things he said to her. She had been able to avoid the specific topic of her relationship with Tommy on the occasion but she was sure that it was just a matter of time until it come up again. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure if they had a relationship of any sort because they never really talked about it. Actually, the last time they had seen each other the last thing they did was talk about anything.

“How’s Jane?” She was facing away from him, making tea for the both of them as he adjusted himself on the spare armchair by the fireplace. The flat was not big, everything was in the same room basically - her bed near the window, a little bedside table, a modest wardrobe and a dresser near the fireplace, two armchairs and a center table. There was a nice bathroom and a small kitchen just beside.

“Fine. They are getting used to things there but are happy together. She send you lots of love.” Daphne gave him the teacup and goes back to take her own before getting comfortable on her own armchair.

“Send my love to her when you write to her again.” They fell into a comfortable silence until he asked her.

“Have you talked to Thomas?” She averted his gaze, sinking into the chair.

“Will…”

“You've been avoiding the topic since the night we talked in the hotel.” Daphne was really hoping that her acting had been on point for him not to notice, but she was just so tired that it wasn’t all that surprising that she slipped onto her act. “He likes you.” Her hazel eyes searched for his blue ones and he laughed at her expression. “What? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?”

“I really hoped I wouldn’t have to talk to you about it.” She exhaled loudly, taking a sip of her tea and William takes a moment to observe her: she is looking to the fire, he knows it is because she doesn't want to look at him, her cheeks are still rosy from the cold, her fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of her dress, her legs tucked under her. It was easy to fall in love with her, he knew that more than anyone.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I am your better option right now.” Daphne looks at him again, sees his playful smile and sighs.

“We could always not talk about it.” William raises an eyebrow at her.

“Not an option.” He waits, patiently, as he always does, for her to get comfortable enough to talk. Sometimes, William wonders why she always seemed more willing to share things with him than with Harriet, for example, or even with his sister. Most women didn’t like to confide in a man like that. He should know better though, because Daphne was nothing but unusual in a lot of things.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You're redirecting.” He scolded her and she laughed, sitting up straighter to face him better.

“I am not, I promise.” Daphne had already accepted her defeat because she knew he wasn’t going to give up, but she wanted to make him understand somethings that had been on her mind lately. Somethings that were very important for their relationship. William drank the rest of his tea, putting the teacup into the table and getting comfortable on his chair as he took a deep breath.

“I remember that you gave me quite a scold.” He smiled looking at her to see that she was doing the same. “We fought over what was the best way to treat a patient and you were so damn stubborn, standing there, hands on your hips, holding your ground and defending your opinion so fiercely.”

“I was right.” There was a smug look on her face and he just shook his head in annoyance.

“You were and even so Dr. Lewis choose to believe in me.” Daphne rolled her eyes and William smiled. He knew that she never really liked the old doctor.

“Of course he did. The man worshiped the ground you walked on just because you are a man.” She rolled her eyes before continuing. “And you were a prick just alright.”

“I was. Smug little thing, fresh out of college, I thought I knew better about everything and I certainly wasn’t looking for being proven wrong by a young nurse on my first day.” She remembered that, he was the talk of the hospital that morning and for the following days - the young hot doctor who had just arrived to help Dr. Lewis. Daphne had been there for almost a month, things had been going as smoothly as they could be but her mood was sour due to being away from her brother for so long.

At first, she had been excited about the new addition to the personnel, after all, all help was welcome - that is until she actually met William. She was treating a soldier with a severe injury and Dr. Lewis brought him to give his opinion on it. The first thing she noticed was how handsome he was and how young he looked but the niceties stopped there, because next thing they were arguing about the right treatment to apply and things just went down after that.

“You actually searched for me to try and convince me that your plan was better than mine.”

“And you snapped at me right away. I don’t think I had ever fought with a nurse before but you were having none of my shit.”

“You were used to just bat those eyelashes at them and have your way out of the discussion, weren’t you?” She smirked at him and William put his hand in front of his face, sighing. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me that. I am pretty sure that all the nurses thought I was crazy for fighting you that day. I certainly received lots of death glares on the corridors for weeks.”

“Matron certainly didn’t agreed with that because she gave me a hard time until we made amends.” William still remembers how much the older woman made his life difficult on the weeks right after his arrival.

“Harriet wouldn’t shut up about you and how I should give you a chance because you were ‘oh, so nice and gentle’.” She feigned an affected voice, then paused for a second looking directly at him. “And how I was going to fall for you if I did open up. I think I did, for a while.”

“Daph…”

“No, I have to say it for both our sakes.” They looked at each other for a long moment before she continued. “We never really talked about why I couldn’t stay with you and sometimes I feel selfish for keeping you around.”

“Then we both are being selfish because I didn’t wanted to lose you either.” She takes a deep breath, gets up from her seat collecting the teacups and walks to the kitchen, gets the bottle of whiskey from the counter along with two glasses and goes back to where he is, pouring them both a dose, offering one of the glasses to him and then getting comfortable on the armchair again. Daphne took a sip of the amber liquid, relishing on the way it burned her throat as she observed the fire crackling.

“I really fell for you at the time, you know.” Her voice was firm, as if she was trying to reassure herself and him at the same time.

“I know. You are good at pretending but not that much.” They smiled at each other and stayed in silence for a moment.

“And I really wish that things could have been different, that we could have gotten a better chance but you were right when you said that I didn’t wanted to live after Benjamin died. I just never let myself acknowledge that.”

“Nobody can blame you for that. I don’t blame you for that. After we came back, every time I saw Jane I thanked God for her being safe and remembered how you must feel everyday because of him.”

“I’m sorry for shutting you out and not giving us a chance. Most part of the time I am sorry for not letting you go.”

“It wasn’t your choice. Not entirely at least. I stayed because I love you and between being in your life as a friend or nothing at all I would always choose to stay. We already talked about that.” They did, in fact, when Daphne told him they couldn’t be together anymore, not as a couple, he had asked her if she wanted him to leave her life completely even if it would’ve been impossible at the time because they were serving at the same place. But she haven’t wanted him gone back then and she still didn’t want him gone now.

“I just don’t understand how I couldn’t love you the way you loved me back then but I can fall in love with another person now. It just doesn’t make sense and…”

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop that!” He kneeled in front of her, taking the glass of whiskey half drank from her hands and resting it on the table, holding both her hands in his, forcing her to look at him. “Love is not rational, Daph. I know we try to find some explanation, a reason for it but it doesn’t exist. We don’t choose who we love or in what moment we love them.”

“We could have been good together.”

“We are good together.” He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Just because we are not together as a couple it doesn't mean we don’t have a good relationship. We’ve been supporting each other all these years, you can’t say to me that this is not a good thing.”

“It is. You’re one of my best friends, always will be.” She smiled at him, remembering all the times he had been there for her. There was no denying how important he was in her life. William would always be a huge part of her history.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me out because you think you’ll hurt me. I will say to you if something is too much but let me help you.”

“I don’t know what to say. Really.” Daphne sighed as she sank into the chair and William adjusted himself on the ground right in front of her. “The way I feel about Tommy is… different. He makes me feel things that I had never felt before. Things I didn’t wanted to know about.”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding it for years now, I really wouldn’t expect nothing less.”

“He’s everything I didn’t wanted for my life.” Problem, that’s what he was. A big, huge problem. William laughed and Daphne gave him a not so playful slap on the arm.

“Maybe he is exactly what you need him to be even if you haven’t realized it yet.” She looked at him, half closed eyes, a smirk on her lips.

“When did you got this wise?”

“You’ve been rubbing off on me.” William smiled at her and Daphne felt the urge to hug him, so she did, sliping from the armchair to sit on the ground with him.

“Why couldn’t I have stayed in love with you? Life would be a lot simpler.”

“That’s the thing, life is never simple.” The moment is interrupted by a knock on the door, so Daphne gets up to answer it and she has a hard time coming into terms with the person standing in front of her.

“Thomas?” William looks at the door after hearing the name, his eyes meting Tommy’s for a moment before he got up from the ground.

“Hope I am not interrupting anything.” His voice was devoid of emotion but Daphne notices the hint of displeasure on his face. William was faster than her to answer.

“No. I was heading out, already.” He was putting his coat on and heading to the door. “Mr. Shelby.” They shook hands briefly and the doctor turned to face her. “You’ll gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and he got closer, giving her a kiss on the check before heading out.

“See you tomorrow then.” Tommy takes a step to the side, giving space for him to get out of the flat. “Mr. Shelby.” The two men nod at each other and the gangster observes as William walks down the stairs before looking up at Daphne, who was observing him. After a moment of silence he asked.

“May I come in?” She stepped out of his way, opening the door more for him to enter. Tommy looked around, analysing the small space, noticing how it looked cozy, much like her. Daphne closed the door and walked towards the little table near the fireplace, taking both glasses laying there and walking to the small kitchen.

“Do you want tea? Or whiskey?” She turned to look at him and he just shook his head, denying her offer, stuffing his cap on one of his pockets.

“No, I am fine.” Neither of them said nothing for a long while. “Did you knew?” They both knew the answer to that and Tommy didn’t fail to notice the offended look on her face.

“Of course not.”

“Then that night, at Charles’s wedding, it wasn't just a way to distract me.” The look she gave him hit him harder than any slap he ever received and, for a moment, he almost regrets asking it, but after Grace he just had to be sure that what he was feeling for her wasn’t just one more thing that Solomons’s could use against him and his family.

“If you thought even for a moment that I would sell myself for something as simple as a decoy you’re clearly underestimating me.” Tommy isn’t accustomed to being held accountable by the things he says and when he does, he usually doesn’t care about what people feel about it. So it actually gets him by surprise how he always seems to find enticing the way Daphne always gets back at him for the things he says.

“You can’t really blame me, can you?” He walks to her, slow and deliberate, leaving her time to back off, which she doesn’t. When they are a breath apart, his cold fingers trace the skin below her neck and then lower, getting hold of the ever present pendant hanging on her neck. He pulls the locket out of the chancel of her dress, feeling the metal against his fingers and this time, different from the night of her birthday, he opens it. As he expected, there are two photographs there - a girl and a boy. “You’ve been hiding a lot of secrets, Senior Sister Scott.”

“Am not the only one, Sergeant Major Shelby.” All he wants to do is to close the distance between them and kiss her, like he had done at the library of the Weston’s house. Give in to desire and press her against the wall, have her right there, but there is something that holds him back. “My past is none of your concern.”

“Your past, your present, your future… I want them all to be of my concern.” The way she looks at him with half closed eyelids should be illegal and Tommy has to take a moment to put his thoughts on check again. “He is the reason why you said I couldn’t make you want things you can’t have?”

“Thomas…” Daphne closes her eyes, feeling trapped in his presence, she doesn’t think that she can talk about Benjamim with him, not yet.

“Because you don’t want to live without him.”

“Tom…”

“You think you don’t deserve to have a life without your twin.” Her hazel eyes focus on his blue ones, hands searching for support on his chest as Tommy holds her to him with his free hand.

“You know nothing about that.”

“I know enough.” She tries to walk away from him, but he is faster than her, releasing the open locket and holding her by the arms, keeping her close, forcing her to face him. “‘Can’t imagine the pain you feel.” Daphne’s resolution falters for a moment, her breath coming fast as if she had runned a mile, she feels her chest tightens as she tries to remembers the last time that she had let herself really feel the grieve.

“He was more than my brother, he was everything.” Her eyes close for a moment and the memories cloud her mind and she relieves all the times they skipped the music classes so they could run through the gardens, searching for a good spot to hide between the trees. How they always sneaked into each others rooms at night so they didn’t had to sleep alone. The way he always seemed to know what she was thinking before herself. Daphne searches for the locket, closing it and holding it between her fingers as she rests her forehead into Tommy’s shoulder, his hands travelling to her waist as they sway from side to side for a long moment.

“Why did you stayed with Alfie?” Daphne thinks for a moment but she already knows the answer, she has knew it for a long time.

“Because it was comfortable.”

“And I am not, so that’s why you’re fighting this.” She doesn’t answer, it’s not needed, they both know it’s the truth. The woman raises her head, looking at him again.

“Why are you fighting this?” There is a long pause where the only thing they hear is the crackling of the fire and the noises of the city outside.

“Because you deserve better than me.” Daphne sees nothing but truth in his ice cold blues.

“I think that is for me to decide.” And decide she does, standing on her tiptoes and closing the gap between them in a gentle kiss. As their lips move together all that Tommy can think about is how much he doesn’t deserve the woman in his arms. In that moment he too makes a decision, a decision that could change everything.

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“Did you one anyway, you ignorant git.” He doesn’t notice that Ada had entered the room until she places the cup of tea almost in front of him, turning to leave. That is the moment that Tommy raises his eyes from the paper in front of him.

“Ada, sit down here for a minute.” She does as he asks while he folds the letter and puts it on the envelope, linking it to seal. “Ada, if anything happens to me today, I need you to post this letter. The stamps already on. Don't ask any questions. It's…” He pauses for a moment as he takes the cigarette from the ashtray. “...to do with insurance.” Ada looks at him, a little disturbed by the information, picking the envelope from the table.

“Look, Tommy? Whatever it is you're involved in, just tell us. God, you never let anybody in. We love you, Tom.” His eyes search for hers in the moment and Ada seems to be in an internal battle to choose her next words so he picks the other envelope and holds it between them.

“This one you can hand over yourself.” Tommy sees the curiosity in her eyes turn into worry when she sees the name outside the envelope.

“What are you going to do, Tommy?” James enters the room and Tommy gets up, walking to the couch to pick his coat. “What are you doing up at six o'clock in the morning?”

“Ready?” He asks the young writer that nods at him.

“What the bloody hell's going on?” Ada asks, voice an octave higher.

“Little errand.” James answers her.

“What errand?”

“He just has to stand there, Ada.” Tommy adds as he picks his things..

“Stand where?”

“Let's go. Come on.” The older Shelby calls and James follows him out of the room, Ada a little behind them, talking exasperatedly.

“James, what's going on? Don't listen to him, James, he'll get you killed! What errand?”

“For the cause, Ada. The good old cause.” The young writer tells her as he and Tommy walk out the door. The two men walk the streets towards Camden Town and when they are approaching Alfie’s bakery Tommy says. 

“For the next ten minutes, you don't do or say anything I haven't told you. All right?” Met with silence he asks again. “All right?” James confirms it just before they reach the doors.

“Hello, Ollie.” Tommy greets the young man as he heads to the door.

“Hang on. Just you, yeah? He stays out here.” Ollie admonishes and Tommy turns to James, pointing at him with his index finger and then at the ground, throwing his cigarette away as he does.

“You stay here.” The young writer stands there, looking around a little apprehensive, as Tommy follows Ollie inside. He stops, pretending to tie his shoe much to the annoyance of the young man, before they continue to Alfie’s office. The Jew barely acknowledges him as they enter the room - feet propped up on the desk, leaning back on his chair reading the paper - and Tommy takes a seat in front of him. He just talks when the phone starts ringing.

“That'll probably be for you, won't it?” Tommy gets up to answer the call.

“Hello? Arthur. You're out?” When the call is finished and Tommy sits back on the chair, Alfie straightens himself to look at the Brummie.

“Right, so that'll be your side of the street swept up, won't it? Where's mine? What you got for me?” Tommy takes the license from his suitcase and hands 

“Signed by the Minister of the Empire himself.”

“Yeah?”

“Which means that you can put your rum in our shipments and no-one at Poplar Docks will lift a canvas.”

“You know what? I'm not even going to have my lawyer look at that.”

“No, no, it is all legal.”

“You know what, mate? I trust you. That is that. Done.” He straightens his hat and then turns to pick a bottle of whiskey. “So, whisky. There is one thing, though, however, that we do need to discuss.”

“What would that be?” Tommy asks, taking a drag of his cigarette as Alfie places the bottle on the desk, holding his glasses to his eyes and analysing the contract.

“It says here twenty percent paid to me of your export business.”

“As we agreed on the telephone.”

“No, no, no, no. See, I had my lawyer draw this up for us, just in case.” He places the new contract, that he just got from the drawer, right in front of Tommy, leaning on the desk to show it to the other man. “It says that here, that a hundred percent of your business goes to me.” 

“I see.”

“Just there Don't worry about it, right. Cos it is totally legal, binding. All you have to do is sign the document and transfer the whole lot over to me.” Alfie reclines himself back on his chair, waiting for Tommy to sign the contract.

“Sign just here, is it?” The Brummie asks, calmly.

“Yeah.”

“I see. That's funny, that is.” Tommy says, taking a drag from his cigarette and pointing at the paper in front of him.

“What?” The Jew asks, confused.

“No, that's funny. I'll give you a hundred percent of my business?” 

“Yeah!”

“Why?” Ollie, who had been standing there, fidgeting more than usual, points a gun towards Tommy, who looks at him unamused.

“Ollie, no. No. No. Ollie, no. Put that down.” Alfie takes the gun from Ollie’s hands and places it on the desk, as the younger man retreats to the background. “He understands. He understands. He's a big boy, he knows the road. Now, look, it's just non-fucking-negotiable. That is all you need to know, so all you have to do is sign the fucking contract. Right there.” The Jewish gangster taps with his finger where Tommy is supposed to sign.

“Just sign here.” Tommy says, before stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray.

“With your pen.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Get on with it.” Alfie encourages when the other gangster does nothing.

“I have an associate waiting for me at the door. I know, he looks like a choirboy but he is actually an anarchist from Kentish Town.”

“Tommy, I am going to fucking shoot you.”

“Right? Now, when I came in here, Mr. Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoelace Isn't that a fact, Ollie?” He looks at the younger man and then at Alfie again. “I stopped to tie my shoelace. And while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels. A mark fifteen with wire trip. My friend upstairs is like one of those anarchists that blew up Wall Street, you know? He's a professional. And he's in charge of the wire. If I don't walk out of that door by the stroke of seven, he's going to trigger the grenade and your very combustible rum will blow us all to hell. And I don't care ‘cos I am already dead.” Alfie scratches his beard, holding his glasses and analysing Tommy for a moment.

“He tied his lace, Alfie. And there is a kid at the door.” Ollie confirms.

“From a good family, too. Ollie, it is shocking what they become.” The Brummie remarks.

“What were you doing when this happened?” Alfie turns to face Ollie.

“He tied his lace. Nothing else.”

“Yeah. But what were you doing?”

“Marking the runners in the paper.” The young man seems embarrassed. There is a little noise of metal and Alfie turns to see Tommy with his pocket watch in hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking the time. Carry on.” The Brummie show a hint of a smirk on his face. The Jew gangster takes the gun from the desk and hands it to his associate.

“Ollie, I want you to go outside and shoot that boy in the face from the good family.”

“Anyone walks through that door except me, he blows the grenade.” Tommy explains.

“He tied his fucking lace, Alfie.” Ollie becomes nervous by the second.

“I did tie my lace.”

“I bet hundred to one that you're fucking lying, mate. That's my money.” Alfie plays with the gun that he took away from Ollie’s hand.

“Well, you see, you have failed to consider the form. I did blow up my own pub for the insurance.”

“OK, right, well, considering the form, I would say, sixty five to one. Very good odds. And I would be more than happy and agree for you to sign over sixty five percent of your business to me. Thank you.”

“Sixty five? No deal.” Tommy looks at the younger man. “Ollie, what do you say?”

“Jesus Christ, Alfie. He tied his fucking lace. I saw him. Look, he planted a grenade. I know he did. Alfie, it is Tommy fucking Shelby.” Alfie gets up and hits Ollie in the face, holding him by the collar of his shirt.

“You are behaving like a fucking child. This is a man's world. Now, get that apron off and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now!” As Ollie does what he is told, Alfie checks his pocket watch and sits again.

“Four minutes.” Tommy says

“Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.”

“The chalk mark on the barrel at knee height said, "Hamilton Christmas". I took out the pin and put it on the wire.” Tommy spins the pin between his fingers before putting it on the empty glass sitting on the desk. Alfie takes it to inspect.

“Based on this…” The Jew shows the pin to Tommy. “...forty five percent.”

“Thirty.”

“Aw, fuck off, Tommy. That's far too little.” He throws the pin at Tommy, who picks it up and starts to play with it.

“In France, Mr Solomons, when I was a tunneller. A clay kicker. A 1-7-9. I blew up Schwaben Hohe. Same kit I'm using today.”

“Funny that. I do know the 1-7-9 and I heard they all got buried.”

“Three of us dug ourselves out.”

“Like you're digging yourself out now.”

“Like I'm digging now.”

“Fuck me!” Alfie whispers, leaning into his chair. “Listen, I'll give you thirty five. That's your lot.” Tommy thinks for a moment.

“Thirty five.” Alfie spits on his hand, gettin up and offering it to Tommy, who does the same.

“Now you go out there, send the good boy from the good family home, and come back here, because we have other business to discuss.” Tommy nods, goes outside and sends James back home, when he comes back Alfie is alone in the office. He closes the door behind him, sitting down on the same chair he was some minutes ago. The both men contemplate the silence for a few minutes, the Jew is looking out to the window. “You probably already know about Benjamin, don’t you? ‘Know you’ve been doing your research on us for a while.”

“I do.”

“Do you know what he meant to her?” Alfie turns to face Tommy, elbows resting on the desk as he intertwined his fingers in front of him.

“I know he was her twin, yes.”

“He was more than that. They were everything for each other. I knew him. The boy served under my command til the day he died. Wouldn’t fucking shut up about her any chance he got. When I finally met Daphne it was as if I already knew her.” He remembers, clear as day, her hazel eyes looking back at him, fighting to hold back the tears, blood all over her nurse uniform. “I fucking promised him I would protect her. Now, we both know that neither of us are men of keeping their promises but this one, this one I intend to keep, because everytime I look into her eyes I believe, even for just a moment, that there is something good in this world. She suffered enough, deserves some happiness and I am not letting you ruin her chances at it. I am not letting you ruin her, Thomas.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Alfie scoffs at him.

“As you didn’t planned to fuck the beautiful blonde who came all the way from New York with her posh husband.” Tommy doesn’t show any signs of emotion but the Jew knows better. “Yeah, I know about her. The woman who betrayed you and then fucked off to America. Beautiful thing she is.”

“She is in the past.”

“Is she? Really?” Alfie restes his arms on the desk, leaning closer to the other man. “Because you’re sitting there telling me that you don’t plan on ruining Daphne but you are lying to her, ‘cause you were with the posh blonde some weeks ago.”

“It’s done. What I had with her is done now.” He pauses for a moment and Alfie just observes him without saying anything. “I know how much you care about Daphne and you have my word that I don’t intend to hurt her.”

“That’s the thing, mate, sometimes the things we don’t intend to find a way of happening.”

Tags: @stressedandbandobessed7771​

[thestuart01]

Book One of the Best Western Hotel in Derby

The Suite with its own entrance, lobby, bar and cloakrooms is located on the ground floor with air conditioning. It can be used as a whole catering for up to 180 delegates in a theatre style, or The Suite can be split in to two halves, or three separate meeting rooms. All rooms have direct daylight and air conditioning. Meeting rooms hotel in derby city centre come equipped with LCD projector and screen and flipchart stand, pad and pens.

[malcalcott]

@juliette--derby​

A trend that Malcolm was beginning notice was that he continuously had his dirtiest fucks in the swankiest of Upper East Side hotels. Whenever he was calling on a rich bitch for the gang, getting into her room to gather information about whatever her momma or daddy was involved in, he discovered that they wanted nothing more than for him to be the rough and tumble asshole of a gang member they imagined him to be. And that was something that Malcolm was more than happy to deliver on.

Then, come morning, Malcolm was more than happy to enjoy breakfast in bed via room service. He had eaten fresh strawberries off of more heiresses before 11am than anyone would want to hear about. This, however, was a new situation he found himself in. When he came out of the bathroom, dressed back in his usual scuffed black boots and t-shirt, Malcolm was greeted by the young woman he slept with reclining on the small sofa in the sitting room of her suite along with another young woman. “Malcolm, come meet Juliette.” The brunette target, Mallory, requested, and if he wasn’t trying to get out of the room with minimal bad blood between them, Malcolm would have told her to fuck right off with her demands. He wasn’t her boyfriend and he wasn’t there to meet any of her friends. Instead, he bit his tongue and changed his path from heading for the door to heading towards the pair. 

At least Juliette was easy on the eyes. “Hey, I’m Malcolm, I fucked Mallory last night and am trying to fucking leave now.”

Oops, there went that minimal bad blood thing.

[football15-7fics]

Tu M’appartiens - Chapter 4

It took quite some time but Tessa finally admitted that this trip to Dubai was the best ever.   As the two girls landed ground, the welcome committee of Armani's hotel took care of them as if they were some royalty.  After all the Armani Hotel Dubai guests consisted mainly of rich people, celebrities and much more. The two girls were attributed one of the ten private apartments for their short stay situated at the twentieth floor of the Burj Khalifa, with a breathtaking view on Dubai's city.   Even Tessa admitted she never witnessed such magic in her life, she fell in love with Dubai as it was her first time destination.

For their first dinner the two decided to dine out of the hotel in a small Arabic restaurant not too far.  The food was delicious as much as the local dessert specialities.   The full of life Nicole suggested they could hit downtown's best night club, one of her favorite hobbies, but Tessa turned down the invitation even though it was a tempting one.  This one felt kinda tired and just wanted to grab a cold shower to refresh her skin and to grab a good night of sleep.  Tessa's plan convinced Nicole to follow her not wanting to let her friend alone, by the end of the day, the two fell asleep on their private balcony, their bodies laid comfortably on the black suede big sofa.

July 5, 2018

The sun was shining on Dubai, the sky looked like a painting scenery with that turquoise sky.   It looked like it was taken from a fairy tale book. For their whole stay, the hotel had the two girls offered a two hours spa massage session and Tessa couldn't wait anymore to try it. As she was preparing a beach bag with some of her personal belongings, Nicole showed up with a sick looking face.

"Nicole, are you okay?" Tessa asked with a concerned voice tone.

"Not really, I think my stomach didn't appreciate our last night meal!" Nicole answered all fuzzy as she took place on the bed.

"Oh no sweetie, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Nothing, I think I'll keep the bed for today, sleep and lime water is all I need!"

"Niky, I'm so sorry, we had our day planned, the spa then some shopping at the mall!" Tessa pouted.

"Darling, go to the spa and get yourself pampered, you deserve it!" Nicole answered as she positioned her head on the comfortable pillow under her neck.

"No, we promised we'll have it together!"

"I know love, but not today!"

"Well, I'll stay here with you!"

"What, no way, you looking so damn fine with that crimson bikini, this body deserves some attention, why don't you go by the swimming pool, you know we have access to the private area!" Nicole suggested.

"But you sick girl, we can wait until tomorrow, when you'll feel better?"

"I can wait but not that hot body of yours, and this holiday is for you so make the most of it bitch!"

"Ok, I'll sip on some mojitos, reading a good book and maybe taking the sun topless!" Tessa bragged herself in a joking manner.

"That's my girl, now get some fun and maybe you'll get to meet one or two handsome guys there!" Nicole winked.

"My gosh, you'll never stop!" Tessa said in a funny bothered manner rolling her eyes, as she grabbed her bag and stepped out of the room.

♡♤♡♤♡

Surprisingly the private swimming pool area was empty when Tessa arrived, which facilitated her comfort.  After having her body covered with a 30 SPF sunscreen, she threw her bikini top aside breasts free and laid comfortably in the sunbed enjoying the sun dancing on her skin.

                    She opened her book at page 123 which consisted of 378, Tessa was an avid book reader and she couldn't get enough of The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah. But her reading seemed plain as if something was missing to make this moment perfect.

"Mojito!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.  Tessa raised her hand signalling the waiter to come to her.

"Yes Miss, would you like to have a drink?" The waiter was a pleasure to the eyes, behind her sunglasses, Tessa examined the handsome boy.

"Yes, can I have a mojito please?"

"Of course Miss, anything else?" He politely answered.

"Oh no, just a mojito!" Tessa answered.

"If you need anything I'm at your service miss!" The waiter said then walked toward the swimming pool's bar.  Tessa pulled her sunglasses down appreciating the waiter's perfect bum shaped by the white trouser.

"He's so damn fine!" She murmured with a grin at the corner of her lips.

Tessa positioned her sunglasses correctly back and got back to her reading when she noticed a couple had arrived at the opposite side of the pool.  At first she felt a bit uncomfortable with her breasts free, so her mind told her to put on the too part of the crimson bikini, but then she reconsidered her choice, she spoke to herself that she was on a stress-free trip and little of craziness wouldn't hurt her at all.  

"Here is your mojito Miss." The waiter came back with her ordered drink.

"Awww thank you so much!" Tessa said sipping straight on her favorite drink.  "It's so delicious, thank you!" She savored her extra chilled mojito.

"I'm at your service Miss, don't hesitate if you want something!" The waiter said so nicely.

"I will!"

Tessa put her book on the little round shaped table next to her, and behind her sunglasses stared at the opposite where the couple installed themselves on the sunbeds, the short woman went topless as well. She noticed how cute they looked extremely cute despite of the height difference between the two.  The man was so tall and was in such great shape, candy to Tessa's eyes. The chance of being noticed by them for staring too long at their direction was almost nonexistent.  But the more Tessa examined him the more she realized that his face seemed kinda of familiar.

The brown hair, that nose, those lips, that body, that smile.  Tessa removed her sunglasses and her brain sending her immediate repulsive signals.

"Hummels!" She cursed putting her sunglasses back on her nose to avoid detection.  Her senses baffled at the view of the man she hated passionately.  To her, Mats Hummels was the perfect example of arrogance and cockiness, her dislike towards him was above bitter.  Tessa remembered perfectly how his overconfidence flustered during derbys between Dortmund and Bayern Munchen.  Mats Hummels was labelled as a snake and a traitor for leaving Dortmund in 2016 for his former Bavarian club.

Tessa who worked as a media coordinator for Borussia Dortmund always had her seat reserved during games with the players on the pitch.  Only two girls had this extreme privilege, her and Reina, one of the many team's physio. She hated that stupid smile of satisfaction on his face when Bayern Munich shown no mercy to Dortmund during their game.  At Tessa's eyes, Hummels had a lack of morality and no values of life, he was the devil.

Totally disgusted, Tessa couldn't stay there any longer.  The fact that he was breathing the same air as her had her nauseous.  In a hurry, she attached the top part of her bikini, then gathered her stuff in her bag and lifted up from the sunbed.  Uncontrollably, her sight locked at him again but this time Mats raised his hand at her.

"Dirty asshole!!" She cursed between her lips showing him her middle finger which caused Mats to smile back.

Tessa wrapped her black beach pareo around her waist, fuming that she had to cut short her blissful moment of relaxation.

Mats on his side, rejoiced every bit of that moment.

"So, is that Tessa?" Amani asked.

"Yes, she is!" Mats answered.

"She's hot!"

"Absolutely!" Mats grinned.

[silksaints]

Serviced Apartments over Hotel Rooms

LOCATIONA Serviced Apartment (also known as a service apartment or an extended stay apartment) is a fully furnished apartment available for short-term or long-term stay, providing hotel-like amenities such as room service, housekeeping, a fitness center and a laundry room.

There are many things customers will be looking for while choosing a service apartment. For example, Value for money, polite staff, Neat and clean room as well as bathroom, Basic amenities must be there (parking, free Wi-Fi, butler facility, laundry services, newspaper, toiletries item, Complimentary breakfast/evening snacks).

DISADVANTAGES OF STAYING IN A HOTEL 

COSTLY 

Hotel rooms cost a fortune especially when you stay for an extended period of time. If you are traveling with your entire family opting for hotel rooms comes with its fair share of challenges; the cost of booking a room for the different family members may be extremely high. Even if you will be lucky to afford, the rooms may be located in different places or building limiting interaction team a great deal.  Lack of privacy

It is virtually impossible to find enough peace and privacy in large chain hotels with plenty of people. Room checks are carried out on regular basis and the while walls can think you are continually interrupted by noise from neighboring rooms. If you have a troublesome in the adjacent room your nights will be longer. If you would like to have some family time in the open over the weekends, the large number of locals will not allow.

PLENTY OF SURPRISES 

Although some people claim to research widely and read reviews about the hotel before booking what you read does not always provide a clear picture of what you should expect. Reviews for your intended function and duration of stay may be missing. For instance, reviews on the use of the facility for disco at midnight birthday party and other functions could be non-existent. Someone could be secretly planning to throw a huge party on the day you have planned creating a parallel noise with terrible results.

SLOW SERVICES 

Some hotels require you to place an order for a meal and wait for up to two hours depending on the number of requests. This may not work for someone who is rushing to, say; to catch a buy to a business meeting. You will find the alternative to go for fast foods in another outlet extremely inconveniencing and disappointing. The fact you could have paid for bed and breakfast further compounds the feeling of frustration.

THE EXACT VIEW MAY DIFFER FROM THE MARKETED

Promoters are fond of portraying a place way far from the reality. A customer who decides to spend time in the hotel in the company of their loved ones may have to seek a different venue if the hotel does not turn out to be as romantic as it was marketed. Some people take the appearance of their surrounding seriously.

ADVANTAGES OF SERVICED APARTMENTS

Whether travelling for business or leisure, alone, with a group or with family serviced apartments can offer a lot of benefits:

SPACE

Staying in a serviced apartment gives you the room to work, cook, relax and sleep and on average you can expect to enjoy 30% more space than an equivalent standard of hotel.  A typical one bedroom service apartment is around twice the size of the average hotel room.

VALUE & SAVE ON LONGER STAYS

Serviced Apartment Accommodation prices are typically 20% less than hotel rates of the same standard.  There are no hidden extras (mini-bars, room service etc.) to be paid for either.  And because the VAT reduces to 4% after 28 nights longer stays can offer further savings.  Many providers also accommodate bookings for long term bookings which are required Monday to Fridays only to meet the need of corporate guests which can offer even further savings.

LOCATION

Serviced apartments are situated in great locations.  They can be found in every major city throughout the world.  Located in the heart of many tourist destinations as well as important business districts enables serviced apartments to meet the needs of various consumer groups!

HOME FROM HOME

Serviced Accommodation give you the home from home experience that you do not get in hotels or guest houses; you have the space, the room and the flexibility which is perfect for leisure or business travelers.

THEY ARE REGULATED

ASAP operator members providing serviced apartments can participate in the Quality Accreditation Programme which ensures they are compliant with core compliance of legal, health and safety requirements and good practice.  It enables you to stay with confidence!

If you are planning to travel to United Kingdom and looking for quality accommodation with all the above mentioned facilities, Sublime Stays Ltd, Serviced Apartments in Derby, London will be the best choice for you!

[yourreptilianking]

Benefits of Serviced Apartments

Whenever you get a busy weekend planned, choosing where you can keep is quite vital for appreciating your city break. Mostly travelers enjoys having lots of distance and lots of creature comforts round themselves when they are travelling and for those travellers, Serviced Apartments in Derby, UK from Sublime Stays Ltd are a great option for remaining within the city. Facilities there serviced apartments offers are listed below:

FLEXIBILITY

You are free to come and go as you wish, enabling you to do things to meet your own schedule. The availability of the facilities in the apartment mean you can cook whenever you wish, work whenever you need to work, and there’s the added space to entertain guests or hold business meetings all within your own private space and at times that suit.  You can often find apartments with several bathrooms and bedrooms which branch off from one central living area, this can work well for families, colleagues or groups travelling together.

COOKING & WASHING FACILITIES

Having your own kitchen is convenient, cost-effective and also great if you have special dietary requirements as you can self-cater. At the very least, serviced apartments have communal laundries, but most have their own washer and dryers giving you the option of doing your own laundry.  Convenient and cost-saving!

ADDITIONAL FACILITIES & SERVICES

If facilities such as gyms, pools, concierge, restaurants or bars are part of your travel needs many serviced properties offer these and more, often rivaling the facilities offered by hotels. Serviced Apartments make a great alternative!

ADDITIONAL SERVICES

Many properties offer the chance to order bespoke hampers or welcome packs for your arrival as well as the availability of shopping services where you can pre-select goods for delivery.  Rather than spending lots on the in-room mini bar you can buy and keep whatever snacks and drinks you like.

QUALITY

Don’t dismiss apartments as being boring box rooms.  There is an array of apartments available, from the budget to the luxury, with plush interiors and top quality furnishings.  Apartments offer a fully equipped kitchen, high quality bed linen, towels and toiletries.  First class home entertainment facilities are available with many offering Sky TV and entertainment packages.

FREE WI-FI

Unlike hotels or similar accommodation types, Serviced Apartment Accommodations providers offer free Wi-Fi to their guests as standard!

MEETING SPACES

You can use the space in your apartment to host small business meetings around the dining table in your apartment. Some providers also have onsite meeting rooms or will assist you in booking external space as needed. Staying in a serviced apartment gives you the room to work, cook, relax and sleep and on average you can expect to enjoy 30% more space than an equivalent standard of hotel. A typical one bedroom service apartment is around twice the size of the average hotel room.

EASY TO BOOK

Providers offer their own online booking facilities as well as apartments being available via online booking agents.

PRIVACY

Serviced apartments generally offer a greater degree of privacy. Apartments allow you to bypass the formalities and in many cases you simply can let yourself in and make yourself at home! A reduced maid service means your apartment can be kept clean but you can retain privacy without constant interruptions.

SECURITY

By their very nature, serviced apartments are private, self-contained accommodations.  In addition you will find that they’re complete with 24 hour CCTV, secure entry and often around the clock security staff.

SPACE

A typical one bedroom serviced apartment is roughly twice the size of a hotel room. Each unit boasts kitchen facilities and a living space, with separate areas for cooking, sleeping and unwinding. We offer everything from studios to four bedroom apartments.

Serviced Accommodations give you the home from home experience that you do not get in hotels or guest houses; you have the space, the room and the flexibility which is perfect for leisure or business travelers.