#hattie cooke

[tiger-balm]

a hat trick for his birthday and a curse is lifted <3 | leafs @ avs | feb 24th 2024

[subterra-rose]

Tag two blokes who do fuck all

Ref under cut:

[stromer]

he is beauty, he is grace….

[demonkinguwu]

Happy Birthday to RS!Vanessa uwu

She's not touching that cake (and fire) but she kinda appreciates the thought dfjnfdjn

[ravensroleplays]

I don’t ship Snatcher x Cooking Cat, but given that she basically quasi-adopted Mustache Girl in my AU, I can kind of see her becoming a mom of sorts for the Subcon Forest fam if/when Snatcher ever decides to take MU in?

[xo8ball]

im gonna get limited byegn

[mead-iocre]

Lip Plumper | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: Leah doesn't like your new (expensive) lip plumper

warnings: gets a liiiitle bit suggestive towards the end, language

wc: 3.9 K

“Hiya!” You flash a grin at the camera. Your eyes scan the influx of viewers and comments from fans greeting you back. “Hi, Grace! Hello, Liz!” You give the camera a quick wave, trying to say hello to a few names that you pick out from the flood of comments. 

“Right then” You bring your hands together, and then pause for dramatic effect. “Since many of you enjoyed my last live, I thought it would be fun to do another one” 

As an avid tiktok user, it was no surprise to everyone when you discovered the existence of tiktok live. You found a lot more enjoyment in sitting and chatting to people than learning choreography for a fifteen second dance video. Since then, you’ve become synonymous amongst the team as being the “live-streamer”, and they would often ask you when your next livestream session will be just so they can annoy you in the comments. Lately, you’ve started inviting some of your teammates to the livestreams as guests or as background entertainment, much to the enjoyment of the fans. 

but without a doubt your favourite livestream partner was your girlfriend– Leah. 

Leah didn’t really understand why you enjoyed live-streaming so much. Talking to strangers and answering the most random questions for almost an hour straight did not appeal to the blonde, but she didn’t mind sitting with you through it. You would usually ask her if she was up for it beforehand, but other times your girlfriend will surprise you (and the viewers) just by plopping down on the sofa right next to you and smiling at the camera. Comments would be flooded with “ask Leah to join!” “Leah!! Omg!!!” “Nooo come back Leah” but you would just laugh them off and say she’s busy.

You knew the Arsenal fans adored you but the fans’ love and adoration for their lifelong Gooner is like no other, and you really didn’t mind it. You were more than happy to comply with their demands of seeing your girlfriend from time to time, giving the fans updates on what Leah was up to when they asked.

Today, it was one of your solo livestreams. The whole team had been given the day off and you didn’t feel like making any plans to go out so you and your girlfriend decided to spend the rest of the day at home. Leah initially suggested going out for lunch and visiting a new restaurant that had just opened, but then said she was too lazy to go out so you ended up cooking lunch at home instead. 

lauren.g: heyyyyyy 

meadoooo: no practice today?

nelly: hatty on sunday incoming 

macabeonsnap: invite katie to join you on live!

You giggle at some of the comments. One of your favourite parts of live streaming was the comments from fans and you always try to interact with them when you can. You glance at the top corner of the screen and grin at the numbers popping up. 3.1k.

“Wow. Three thousand of yous already?! I’ve only just started!”

“Anyways– as I was saying” You pull your makeup bag towards you, revealing it the camera. “I thought I would answer some of your questions while I do my makeup– yeah, yes I do have plans later– me and Leah are going out tonight!”

You smile when the comments come through faster now that you’ve mentioned Leah. You can just about read a few comments asking you to invite her as they speedily fly through the screen to make room for the new comments. 

“Leah can’t join us at the minute, guys. She’s busy doing sudoku in the living room” You snicker; thinking of your girlfriend who was currently in the living room, laying comfortably on the sofa, a new sudoku booklet on her lap, and a footy match playing on the tv. You unzip your makeup bag and slowly pull out all the products you are going to use. You turn back to the camera. “You can start sending in some questions and I’ll try to answer them if I can” 

You grab your bottle of tinted moisturizer, shaking the bottle before uncapping it. You pump out an appropriate amount and then dab the product all over your face, smoothing it out with a beauty blender. In the middle of blending the moisturizer, you glance at the comments. 

genevieve382773: yeahhh the beauty influencer !!!!!!

redwhitefc: babe it might be time to clean that beauty blender 

stargirl23: y/n are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten-I-see  

gooners(taylor’s version): blend blend blend 

You practically cackle at the pick up line, head thrown back and everything. It was such a perfect pick-up line for you considering you wear the number 10 for Arsenal. You didn’t even hear the sound of Leah opening your shards bedroom door until she speaks up. “Right what’s going on here then? You’re having too much fun without me”

“Love! I–“ You start but you burst into laughing again when you think back to the pick-up line. You wave her over to you, tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard. Your girlfriend walks the short distance and stands by you. When she spots your phone on titkok live on the dresser, she leans down slightly so she is in frame and gives the camera a quick wave. 

The comments go crazy. 

“What’s got my missus laughing like that, eh?” Leah playfully furrows her eyebrows at the camera, trying to look intimidating, but her messy bun and lion king pyjama top is doing her no favours. 

Eventually you calm yourself enough to explain the comment and the pick up line, somehow managing to be coherent enough for Leah to understand the gist of it. 

“Right that’s actually quite funny“ Leah shakes her head in amusement and grins at the camera. “But quit flirting with my girl. That’s enough, yeah” 

olly:  okay jelly shelly omg

milodino: MY GIRL??? chat is this true???

stargirl21: leave her for me y/n. I can ride a bike !!!!

emiiiily: that's literally my wife. come home y/n the kids miss you

↪ starry replies to milodino: they're lesbians, milodino. 

just.woso: the comments ijbol 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“What did you need, love?” You dab the corner of your eyes, finally calming down. You watch with fond eyes as Leah shakes her head lightly, looking down at you from her standing position beside you. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear sweetly. “Nothing, just wanted to see you.” 

Then she turns to the camera. “But you’re clearly busy, so I’ll come back later.”

Leah drops a quick kiss to the side of your head, gives the camera a mock two-finger salut and leaves the room, closing the door gently behind her. 

You press your lips together, trying to smother the grin that was threatening to escape your lips. Even after months of being together and spending most of your time with each other, your girlfriend still gave you butterflies. 

Taking the tube of concealer, you lightly dabbed it under your eyes and over any blemishes, blending it seamlessly with the beauty blender. Then, you grab your favourite tube of liquid blush, a shade of rosy red, to add a hint of colour to your cheeks. Finally, you brush on a coat of black mascara to enhance your lashes, framing your eyes with subtle definition. You would periodically turn to the comments, answering a few questions when you can, before turning back to your mirror to focus on your makeup. As you lean back slightly to scrutinise your finish look, you suddenly remember something. 

“Oh right!” You scramble off your chair and run into your closet, grabbing the item that you were looking for from inside your bag. You race back to the room, your hair slightly frizzy from your sudden rush, and proudly show off the item to your livestream of nearly 5 thousand viewers. “I bought this lip plumper thing the other day and I’ve been wanting to try it out”

You settle back into your chair, releasing the lip plumper from the confines of it’s box. When you read a comment asking you about the name of the lip plumper, you roll the tube in your hands, trying to find the name of the brand.

“Do you know what guys– this thing was expensive! But I saw a tiktok video and just had to— I was influenced alright!” 

You pick up the box, inspecting the text at the back. “La Mer’s Lip Volumiser utilises its exclusive lip-plumping Renewal Complex blah blah blah….this serum-strength lip treatment is powered by La Mer’s cell-renewing Miracle Broth, a marine-powered fermented patent powered by sustainably-grown Pacific Sea Kelp hand-harvested from Vancouver Island’s surrounding waters…”

You glance at the camera, confusion written all over your face. “What the hell am I reading”

emmylemony: girl we don’t know you’re the one reading it

michaylaaaaaaaa: £72?!?!?

wosoforthegirlies: I understood nothing

russoairways: bro why are you putting sea kelp on your lips 

↪ bellasbaee replies to michaylaaaaaaaa: SEVENTY TWO GREAT BRITISH POUNDS?!?

“Anyways. This thing” You discard the box to the side and wave the tube in the air. “is supposed to make my lips look good, so let’s try it out”

Your fingers dance over the smooth surface of the cap before you twist it open, feeling a satisfying click. You pull the applicator loaded with the product away from the tube, carefully swiping the gloss across your bottom lip and then doing the same for your top lip. You lightly press your lips together, spreading the gloss evenly, feeling the rich, yet slightly sticky texture. 

At first glance your lips glistened with a perfect sheen, the subtle pink tint enhancing their natural colour.

You turn back to the livestream, pouting your lips towards the camera playfully. “Okay. It’s on– what do we think?”

Smiling at the flood of comments of fans, it’s mostly compliments but you catch a few questioning whether you can feel the spicy, plumping effect yet. 

“My lips are actually burning now” You laugh, touching the slide of your lips with your thumb, cleaning away any excess product. The gloss now feels cool on your lips, the tingling sensation begin to take effect. “But I’m not sure if my lips actually look…plumper?”

Just as those words leave your lips, you hear the door to your room open again. You glance towards it, smiling when your girlfriend cheekily winks at you before she heads straight into your shared walk in closet. 

“Baby, we’re leaving in an hour by the way! Reservations at seven!” You hear from the closet. You hum aloud in agreement, far to engrossed at your shiny new tingly lips and the comments on the live. 

“Right” You clap your hands together, leaning back slightly and fixing your hair. “This is my makeup for tonight’s date. I honestly don’t wear a lot of makeup because I usually end up falling asleep with it on– don’t do that kids– also…”

You get distracted when you see catch Leah walking out of the closet in your peripheral. She has changed out of her loungewear and was already dressed for tonight’s date– and she looks damn good. She was wearing a classic black button-down linen shirt, slightly oversized, with sleeves she had rolled up to her elbows, revealing the simple gold bracelet that you had given her for her birthday that year. On her left wrist, she sported her sleek Rolex watch, the one she never leaves the house without, and an extra thin black hair-tie for your sake– you are always looking for one and she wants to be prepared. She has left the top few buttons undone, showcasing a delicate gold necklace with your initials, that rested just above her collarbone. 

The matching shorts completed the co-ord, cinched at the waist with a drawstring that was tied into a neat bow. The shorts were tailored enough to look polished but loose enough to maintain the relaxed, effortless style Leah has been into lately. She paired the outfit with her favourite pair of white leather trainers, and her staple pair of arsenal cannon earrings.

You watch as your girlfriend walks over to where you were still seated by your vanity, snatching her bottle of perfume and popping the cap off. 

Shit, she was hot. 

Leah is, in your humble opinion, the most attractive person you had ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are a piercing shade of blue, framed by naturally long, dark lashes that flutter with every movement. Her nose is straight and slender, and sits above a pair of full, expressive lips that often break into an easy confident smile in front of the cameras, or a smug smirk when she’s in the mood to tease you. Her jawline is defined and her neck is slender, a personal favourite of yours, proven by the amount of kisses and hickeys you like to bestow upon it neck frequently. 

You watch as she cranes her neck slightly, spraying a few spritzes of perfume on both sides. You feel the sudden urge to deliver a sweet bite on the spot on her neck that makes her moan.

And she probably sensed your thoughts because she held your gaze, that familiar smirk on her lips, before she gestured to your on-going livestream with a nudge of her chin. Oh!

You risk a glance at the comments. 

mollie_mae: girl we’re still here…

stargirl23: Was that Leah that walked over? 

tilly: She was definitely looking at leah 

bellasbaee: GET A ROOM 

lessisflyingboots: same y/n. same. 

kryystal: GET LEAH ON PLEEK

“Anyways I’m about to end the video here! Thanks for spending time with me and letting me yap on about things…”

Leah walks over, crouching down beside you and cages you in her arms. She flashes a quick smile at the camera before turning to you, smiling fondly and whispering “my yapping yapper”

She leans over and kisses you sweetly. 

But then abruptly pulls away for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, her lips smacking together. You were about to make a joke about how you had brushed your teeth earlier but then she speaks

“What the fuck?” You girlfriend mutters in a low voice, leaning back slightly away from you.

She grabs a hold of your head with both hands, leans forward and kisses you again, taking your lower lip in her mouth and sucking on it lightly. She pulls back and this time her face is contorted in pure disgust. “Baby, what the fuck is that on your lips?”

Leah takes the bottom edge of her shirt, pulling it up and wiping her lips against it aggressively. Good thing she wasn’t standing directly in front of the camera or else she would’ve flashed her abs to nearly 7k people. When she’s had enough of exfoliating her lips clean, she lets her shirt fall and glares up at you. 

“Get that shit off your lips” Leah demands, one finger raised and pointed. She crosses her arms over her chest, her blue eyes glancing down periodically at your lips with a look of digest on her face. Her eyebrows are still knitted together furiously. 

You raise an eyebrow of your own at her, mirroring her crossed arms. “Excuse me?”

“m’not kissing you with that all over your lips, mate.” Your girlfriend gets up from her crouched position, spins on her heel and practically marches out the door to your bedroom, leaving you completely dumbfounded.  

You glance at your phone and nearly crack a smile at how quickly the comments were coming in. If it was any other time, you would be more than happy to laugh along with fans who were obviously very entertained by Leah’s reaction to the lip plumper, but you knew it would be wrong to continue any further. 

sofiamia: NEEED A GIRLFRIEDN PLS

eveliiiina: They are so cute wtf

jojo_mojo: okay who want me??????

Awfc4me: JBCEWHCIBALCHC CUTE

“Right, I’m actually going to end the stream here” You hover your finger over the end button. “Thanks again for joining me. Bye everyone!” You muster a quick wave at the camera, blowing a quick kiss, and then click the button to end the live. You lock your phone, placing it face up on the dresser. 

You were just about to call out for Leah when you hear her stomping back into the room. She trudges over to you, and holds out a wad of tissues. You glance at the tissues hovering in front of your face, and then eye your girlfriend. “What are these for?”

“Wipe that shit off.”

“No.” You lean back on your chair. You had just bought this lip product and it was stupidly expensive. You weren’t about to wipe it off just because your girlfriend was having a tantrum. “I just put it on, Lee” 

“Well then it won’t be hard to take off, will it” Her mild Milton Keynes accent intensifies when she’s upset. Her vowels are shorter and her speech becomes faster, almost slurring her words together, exactly as she was doing right now.

“Lee–“

“Baby, my lips tingled.” Part of you wants to giggle at how utterly fed up she looks. Another part of you couldn’t help but admire how attractive your girlfriend look when she’s all worked up

but now was not the time. 

"Lips aren’t supposed to tingle and burn y’know” She continues, gesturing wildly at her own lips. 

You roll your eyes. Leave it to your girlfriend to exaggerate things. “Love, it’s just a lip plumper…”

“A what? Baby, you don’t need that” Leah bends down slightly in front of you, your eyes now levelled. You watch as her eyes focus in on your lips, slightly glazed over, almost as if in a trance. “Your lips are perfect as they are” She mutters.

Your girlfriend thumbs the corner of your lips, before moving to caress your bottom lip. There's a familiar softness in her gaze, a look only reserved for you. She moves her gaze from your lips to the rest of your face; her pupils are dilated, letting in more light as if they are trying to absorb every detail of you before they settle on your lips again. Your lips which are still wet and shiny from the gloss. Your breath catches at the intensity of her gaze. You feel her thumb swiping at your bottom lip gently– intimately– and you think it’s sweet at first but then you realise–

“Oi! You’re wiping it off, Lee!” You recoil away from her touch, scowling up at her. 

“s’sticky too. bloody hell” She mutters, more to herself. She’s wiping her thumb on her shirt so aggressively you wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to burn a hole into it. 

She stops briefly to look at you again. “Baby, how am I supposed to kiss you when you wear that stuff”

“No one said you had to stop kissing me”

Leah glances down at your lips again, cringing slightly at the shine that still lingers on your bottom lip. 

Looks like she didn’t wipe it all off. 

Your girlfriend closes the distance between you, cupping your face in her hands. She freezes for a moment and wets her own lips, her furrowed eyebrows– a familiar determined look on her face– and you open your mouth, ready to cut off whatever shit she’s about to spew, but her lips meet yours before you can get any words out.

Leah’s lips meet yours hastily this time, as if she is a woman starved. From the months of being together, you have come to know just how skilled of a kisser your girlfriend is. You are more than happy to follow her lead, often trusting her to lead the kiss since she’s so good at it. She can kiss softly, gently, when the mood is right– prolonging the intimacy of a dance only the both of you are a part of. She would direct your head with a steady hand, tilting it ever so slightly so she can kiss you much deeper. Her lips would part deliberately, gently slotting between yours with careful ease because she wants it to be perfect for you every single time.

But other times, Leah was a little…rougher. She would kiss you like she was about to devour you, like you were the last meal on earth served up to her in a shiny silver platter. Often times it was messy, sloppy and the sounds you both made could made a priest in a confession booth blush. If a moan slips out, she would reward you with a low chuckle, smiling into your lips before she would go back to devouring you. Her hands would travel down to you hips, waist– ass– squeezing and groping any sliver of your skin she can. She doesn’t like to pull away first, often letting out a groan of disapproval when you make the move to end the kiss. The only time Leah would ever end the kiss first is if so she can admire the rosy flush of your cheeks, and the way you always take a second or two longer to open your eyes again, eyes hooded with a drunken grin on your face. 

The way she was kissing you right now was a mix of the two. Sloppy, but gentle. She’s leading the kiss, and you have no choice but to follow. One hand is tilting your head slightly, but the other hand has started the journey down to you waist where she gives it a quick squeeze, pulling your body even closer. Your hands are on her hips– fingers grasping the fabric of her shirt, mainly because you have to be touching her too, but also so you can steady yourself against the intensity of it all. 

Leah finally pulls away, ending the kiss with one last, sharp, teasing bite to your bottom lip. Your eyes are hooded when she pulls away, and you can see her smirk slightly when she sees the lack of lip product on your lips. 

She kissed it all off. 

You watch as your girlfriend smacks her lips together, probably tasting a bit of the gloss, but the furrow of her eyebrows is gone. Leah presses her lips against yours, giving you one more smacking kiss, almost putting you off balance by the sheer force of it. She smiles down at you adoringly, loving that dazed look in your eyes because she was the cause of that.

She cradles your face to one side, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and baring your neck to her. She lays one wet kiss to that sensitive spot on your neck before you feel her lips move up to your ear. 

“…it’s going in the bin, baby.” 

Before you could fully process what your girlfriend had just confessed, the girl had already snatched the lip plumper from where it was sitting on your desk, and was speeding out the door. 

You could only stare at the slightly swinging door in disbelief before you force yourself to snap out of your leah-drunk haze, and sprint out the door right after her. 

“YOU CHEEKY FUCKER! GIVE IT BACK”

made this slightly longer as a little treat for leaving yall hanging last month lol. pls forgive me <3

it's been nice and sunny lately so im hoping this lasts until the end of the week, but you never know with the weather around here. hope everyone's has a great week ahead.

thank you for being so patient and being here. I appreciate you more than you know,

-- kisses, butter.

[hotvintagepoll]

this is a poll for a movie that doesn't exist.

It is vintage times. The powers that be have decided to again remake the classic vampire novel Dracula for the screen. in an amazing show of inter-studio solidarity, Hollywood’s most elite hotties are up for the starring roles. the producers know whoever they cast will greatly impact the genre, quality, and tone of the finished film, so they are turning to their wisest voices for guidance.

you are the new casting director for this star-studded epic. choose your players wisely.

Previously cast:

Jonathan Harker—Jimmy Stewart

The Old Woman—Martita Hunt

Count Dracula—Gloria Holden

Mina Murray—Setsuko Hara

Lucy Westenra—Judy Garland (rip)

The Three Voluptuous Women—Betty Grable, Marilyn Monroe, and Lauren Bacall

The Agonized Mother—Mary Philbin (rip)

Dr. Jack Seward—Vincent Price

Quincey P. Morris—Toshiro Mifune

Arthur Holmwood—Sidney Poitier

R.M. Renfield—Conrad Veidt

The Captain of the Demeter—Omar Sharif (rip)

The First Mate of the Demeter—Leonard Nimoy (rip)

Mr. Swales—Ed Wynn (rip)

The Correspondent for The Daily Graph—Ethel Waters

Dracula in dog form—Frank Oz with a puppet

Sister Agatha—Angela Lansbury

Mrs. Westenra—Gladys Cooper (rip)

Dracula's solicitors—Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee

Dr. Van Helsing—Orson Welles

Thomas Bilder, zookeeper—Lon Chaney Jr.

Thomas Bilder's wife—Elsa Lanchester

The Reporter from the Pall Mall Gazette—Hattie McDaniel

The carriers are working class men dropping off some heavy boxes of dirt who get berated and then attacked by Renfield outside the asylum. They then successfully talk Dr. Hennessey into buying them several rounds at the pub as payback. Today's Dracula Daily episode can be found here.

[blimbo-buddy]

Human Smudge

5'3 1/2

Mexican-American

Rarely wears long sleeved clothes (He thinks it rubbing against his arm hair feels like bugs crawling on him)

Got scammed and ended up with a pair of old shoes that didn't even have matching colors

Currently living with and dating Princess and Hattie

Adopted Rusty (Their pet cat)

Has a snaggle tooth and dimples

Never learned how to tie his shoes

Birthmark in hair (Runs in his biological family)

LOVES cooking and baking for people

Voice doesn't match his appearance at all (Very soft-spoken and gentle)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

“Chardonnay, simple but classic. Versatile,” Jonathan declares as he uncorks the bottle, “a fine match for this delectable looking salmon.” 

He’s plated the meal nicely and set the patio table for the dinner. It isn’t the one you planned but better than the one you’d been about to resign yourself too. He pours you a healthy glass and you can’t help but admire his profile. He’s younger and fairer, but does he ever remind you of your husband. It’s like a cruel joke. 

He fills his own glass and sits, his elbow close to yours as he leans it on the arm rest. He reaches for his wine and raises it, awaiting your cheers. You cling the crystal and try not to show how flustered his gaze makes you. You were prepared for your unloving husband but not an intent neighbour. 

“Thanks, this is all very nice,” you smile. How long since you did that? Genuinely. “You really didn’t have to humour me.” 

“Humour you? Not at all. I have to confess, it’s rather lonely. Hattie’s great fun when she’s not in pain but I’m afraid she’s been rather lethargic with all the sedation.” 

“She is? I didn’t think she’d had her surgery yet,” you perk up and take a cautious sip. The chardonnay is oaky and bold. It must be expensive. 

“Not as yet, no, she’s due soon,” he explains as he slices into the flaky salmon, “but I’m afraid she is not handling the pain.” He hums before he tastes the fish. He tastes it very deliberately, “that is perfectly cooked. You must have training, yes?” 

You laugh, not meaning too, but it’s a compliment you don’t expect. 

“Oh no, no, I... I worked at the deli in a grocery store, a long time ago, but I wouldn’t call it culinary school.” 

“Very long ago? You don’t seem that old,” he says, “not that I’m guessing your age. I am aware it’s rather uncourteous to mention it to a woman so I suppose I’ve already said too much.” 

“Thirty-three.” 

“Spry,” he comments with a grin. “I enjoyed thirty-three. And thirty-four. It was all rather merry until forty.” 

“Now I know I have a lot to look forward to,” you kid and take a more generous mouthful, “this wine...” 

“Ah, yes, I’m a bit of an enthusiast. Hattie only had cooking sherry when I moved in. I had to stock up for my stay though I admit I’ve found it rather glum to drink alone. I opened a single bottle of merlot and couldn’t finish.” 

“Mm, I... think I know what you mean,” you admit bittersweetly. 

“Yes, I’ve not seen the husband yet. Elusive? He must be busy.” 

“All the time. Eleven years... well, the flame gets dimmer,” you swirl the chardonnay and watch the golden cyclone, “I’m sure you don’t care. I’m boring. Tell me about you,” you put the glass down and pick up your fork, “when you’re not caring for elderly women, what do you get up to? It must be something exciting. Does your wife miss you?” 

“So many questions, I’m afraid I might disappoint,” he mulls his response as he chews. “I can’t help but repeat myself. Absolutely delicious.” 

“You’re not answering,” you goad. Your heart is fluttering. You can’t help it. He just seems so sophisticated. 

“I manage several hotels for a luxury chain. Though I am looking into slowing down. I’ve invested in the brand so I have a cushion. I tire of all this running around,” he says forlornly, “I didn’t realise it until I arrived here. Hattie, bless her, she’s helped me realise how much I’ve missed out on,” he shifts and sits straighter, “so to your point, no, I’ve not a wife to miss me.” 

You laugh, “I’m sorry. I’m so nosy. It’s just... this place, well, we have gossips but it’s always the same stories.” 

“I’m flattered, truly. I’m truly not very exciting.” 

“Look who you’re talking to,” you scoff. 

“I’d counter and say I find you rather interesting,” he insists, “I wonder how any man could keep away from you.” 

“Oh, you really know what to say,” you giggle. 

“The truth is always the best policy,” he winks, “a woman who cooks like this, she must be something special.” 

Your cheeks burn and bulb and you smile even deeper. There’s an edge to your delight. The nagging voice in the back of your head; he isn’t your husband, though not for your own negligence. You wish he was Loki. You have yearned for your husband to look at you, to speak to you like this.  

It’s fine. It’s nothing. He knows you’re married. It’s only dinner. You’re not going to do anything.  

❤️‍🔥

“I’ve some sorbet in the freezer, would you like some dessert?” Jonathan asks as you empty your glass. The third. Like everything else, he is generous with the bottle. 

“I’d love dessert,” you preen and set the glass down, cupping your chin in your hand as you lean in to marvel at him. You angle your foot to touch his leg, “but I’m not in the mood for sorbet.” 

He tilts his head and his blue eyes flash. He takes a breath and you sense his reluctance. Oh no. Why did you do that? Why did you say that? It’s the wine. 

“Ah,” he reaches to touch your knee, squeezing, “I am entirely flattered but... you are married.” 

“Oh god,” you pull back and cover your face, “please, forget that happened. I’m drunk.” 

“It’s rather fine. It is a rather strong vintage,” he removes his hand, “please do not be embarrassed.” 

“How can I not be?” You whine. 

“Truly, I... I would. I cannot say I invited you in without the whim and yet... you are married.” 

“I know,” you whimper. 

“And I wouldn’t want to put you in such a compromised position.” 

You nod and gulp, hiding still behind your fingers, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please, I should be. I’ve been... misleading. I must admit I would leap at the chance and yet I find it difficult knowing that it would be only a fleeting deceit.” 

“Ugh, please, I’ll go,” you sit up and grip the edge of the table, about to stand. He catches your arm, and holds you there. 

“Darling, you are one of the most immaculate woman I’ve met. That man, whoever he is, is a fool. I’ve not met him and even I know it,” he trails his hand down your arm and takes yours, raising it to kiss your knuckles, “please, know I do not reject you out of repulsion, only out of consideration. I wouldn’t dare put you in that position.” 

“I...” the touch of his lips makes you tingle. You tear your hand away and get to your feet, “I have to go.” 

“Darling--” 

“No, you’re so sweet,” your voice quavers, “but I can’t... I can’t hear lies from another man. I understand, okay? Please, just forget this all.” 

You clamour around his seat and across the deck. You take the two steps to even ground and wobble to the gate. You leave it open as you barrel through and across the street. You slow as you approach your house, the moonlight high above its peak. You stop short as Loki’s car sits in the driveway. 

What timing he has. 

[readtilyoudie]

“Marry me, Ella,” he said again, the order a whisper now. “Say you’ll marry me.” 

Anyone else could have said no or yes. This wasn’t a royal command. Char probably had no idea he’d given an order. 

But I had to obey—wanted to obey—hated to harm him—wanted to marry him. I would destroy my love and my land. They were in danger, and no one could rescue them. We were all doomed, all cursed. 

Char was too precious to hurt, too precious to lose, too precious to betray, too precious to marry, too precious to kill, too precious to obey. 

Words rose in me, filled my mouth, pushed against my lips. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, I love you. Yes! Yes! Yes! 

I swallowed, forcing them down, but they tore at my throat. A strangled noise erupted from me, but not words, not consent. 

He put a hand on my shoulder. I must have frightened him, but I couldn’t see his face; my vision had turned inward where the battle raged. I heard Lucinda’s voice, “My gift to Ella is obedience. She will always be obedient.” I saw Mandy telling me to eat my birthday cake. I saw SEEf leering at me and heard him. “No need to be persuasive with this one. It’d cook itself if we told it to.” I saw Olive counting my coins, Mum Olga standing over me while I scrubbed the courtyard, Hattie wearing Mother’s necklace. 

I’d eaten the cake, drunk the Tonic, given up the necklace, slaved for my stepmother, let Olive suck me dry. They’d gotten all they wanted of me, but they weren’t going to get Char. Never. Never.

-  Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Chapter 9

7.8K

SO SORRY I WENT MIA LIFE SUCKED FOR A MIN THERE

_________________________________________________________

When Harry peels his eyes open at the crack of dawn on a Tuesday, he’s not expecting two beady eyes to be staring into his, mere inches from his face.

“Morning, sleepy!” Hattie’s shrill voice rings through the small guest house. She’s dressed and ready for the day, munching on some Percy Pigs.

“Morning, rug rat. Why’re you eating candy at half eight?” He narrows his eyes, slowly lifting his head from the pillow. “Gimme some.”

Hattie hesitantly hands him one, taking notice of the dwindling number of gummy candies left in the bag.

“Mumma left already and Daddy took a phone call,” she reasons.

Harry rolls his eyes as he chews, pushing himself to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s go get you a proper breakfast.”

She perks up at this, following behind her uncle. Harry’s bones crack as he stretches his limbs. He crosses the slightly damp grass and opens the back sliding door to Gemma and Michal’s house, trying not to let any cats out. Hattie stays in the garden, staring at some worms on the stone pathway.

Harry begins making scrambled eggs and conjuring up any fruit he can find. As the eggs cook slowly, his mind begins to wander. It’s been a little over 2 1/2 months since he returned to England and his mind has had very few thoughts that didn’t include Briar.

He misses her on his runs. He misses her on the train. He misses her in the morning. He misses her when he’s alone in a shop buying fuck-all to fill the void.

Grabbing his phone, he sends his daily “ . ” to Briar, just to check if he’s still blocked. As usual, the message sends in a green bubble.

Pushing the eggs around, he makes it just how Briar likes it; mostly cooked, but still runny. Drudging over to the fridge, he spots some cheese to sprinkle on top. With careful hands, he plates the eggs for the two of them to share.

By this point, Hattie is romping around the garden in her school uniform, getting dirt and muck on her shoes and dress. He stalks over to the door, opening it enough to shout out to her.

“Oi! You’re due at school any minute and you’re ruining your clothes! Get in here.”

Hattie’s head whips up at Harry’s tone. He’s never once yelled at her in her 6 years of existence. Usually, she can get away with anything from painting Harry’s nails to stealing his nice clothes for a fashion show. Harry sees her face drop and can sense the tears are about to start. She stands up, her wide eyes looking at him. She meets him at the door and wraps her arms around his legs.

“‘M sorry, uncle H. Didn’t mean to mess up my dress.”

“It’s okay, bug. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Why don’t you sit and start eating, and I’ll run upstairs to grab a new dress, yeah? Do you need new socks, too?”

She nods sadly, her bottom lip still in a pout. Harry lowers down to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, love. Be right back.”

~

It’s not right. The room is silent, apart from the strained puffs of air hitting her face. Soft praises and dirty comments aren’t being whispered in her ear, and the hairs on the back of her neck aren’t standing straight up. Sweat is building up on her lower back and the backs of her knees as his hips snap sloppily into her.

They’ve been in this spot for a while, Spencer and Briar. If she were with Harry, she’d have reached completion twice by now, and explored 3 different positions. He’s barely uttered a word to her, just periodically grunting and saying, “oh yeah.”

Shuddering at the thought of Harry, she finally musters up the courage to look up at Spencer. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip in a manner that would normally be sexy, but to her, it’s repulsive.

They’d been out at a bar with a group of his friends; Briar being the only girl to tag along. They were both drinking and listening intently as his friends told funny stories. He included her when he could, but for the most part, Briar sat quietly to people watch.

“Close, Bri,” he grunts again.

She cringes, again. Only the people she’s closest with call her Bri. Is he asking her if she’s close, or is he telling her he is?

“Mhm,” she squeaks out a lie. He can’t possibly think this is good, right?

“Oh my goddd,” he drags out as he finishes into the condom. His heavy pants continue as he rolls off of her, a little sweat from his chest transferring to hers.

She cringes as he maneuvers his way to lay along side her. When he doesn’t immediately get up to grab a washcloth, she slides herself off the bed, picking up her shorts and throwing her long t-shirt on. She slowly shuffles to the bathroom, willing herself not to cry.

Spencer is nice; he’s respectful, but a little boring. When she looks at him, her heart doesn’t hammer in her chest.

Staring at herself in the mirror, her heart sinks to the floor. Her mascara is smudged, bags more prominent than before.

Briar used to feel enlightened and empowered after sex, a sense of weightlessness hitting her senses. But right now, a pit is formed in her stomach and she can’t wait for him to leave.

Entering the room, she sees Spencer sitting along the edge of the bed in his boxers. He smiles at her before pulling his sweatpants up.

“I have to be at the shop early tomorrow. I’ll text you?”

She inhales sharply, slightly relieved.

“Okay, yeah,” she smiles back as he leans in to peck her on the lips.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Gus lifts his head as the unfamiliar man makes his way past him before exiting through the front door.

She joins him at his spot on his bed, nuzzling her face into his wide and fluffy neck. She’s a little salty because Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Gus.

“Gus, what did I get us into?”

~

After 10 weeks in England, the longest period of time he’s spent there since he was 16 years old, Harry is heading back to the U.S.

There were lots of tears from Hattie, sympathetic looks from his sister, and sad waves from his mum.

He’s in his groove as a father to Oliver, balancing work and making time for FaceTime dates and even popping back over to France for a weekend. Camille is bringing Oliver to America in a few days.

His flight was seamless. He opted for business class so he could lay down and sleep. By the time the flight attendant shook him awake, they were just minutes from landing in New York City.

Looking to the escalators, the same ones Briar left him at to go to France over 3 months ago, his heart sinks. Getting broken up with 11 days into a trip is fucking with his head.

Harry’s driver, Paul, is waiting for him, the trunk of the SUV open for his luggage. He’d added an extra bag to carry new clothes and even a new trinket for his collection. Paul gently pats Harry on his back when he approaches.

Sliding into the back seat, Harry doesn’t bother buckling himself in, and lays his long legs over the seats. His eyes are about to close when he gets a text from Niall.

Welcome home, mate. I’ll stop over tomorrow for the meeting?

It’s not that he’s not excited to see Niall, he just can’t stomach acting happy and ignoring the elephant in the room. He wonders if he’s been to Wynnewood recently. He answers Niall with a quick ‘ya’ and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Town is quiet, just a few joggers and dog walkers milling about. It’s early, so the shops are only just opening their doors.

“Hey, Paul, can we stop for a minute? I want to grab a coffee.”

“Sure thing,” Paul says, slowly pulling the car to a stop.

With a cracking of his bones, Harry slides out of the car to stand in the street. He ducks inside the shop to find one guy behind the counter. He’s tall, flowy brown hair with a few tattoos on his arms and hand. He reminds Harry of a younger version of himself.

“Morning, man. Let me know what I can get started for you,” the barista smiles.

“Thanks. I’ll take two large iced cold brews. Black. And a croissant.”

“No problem. I just gotta fire up the oven, so it’ll be a minute," the guy says as Harry taps his credit card.

“Take your time,” Harry waves him off as he tucks himself into a corner booth, pulling out his phone to look at his emails.

A few more people filter into the coffee shop, so the level of chatter increases. Another worker brings over his coffees, and the original worker is pulling the croissant out of the oven.

The bell over the door jingles, signaling someone is entering.

“Hey, Bri!” the barista shouts as he’s pulling two espresso shots.

Harry’s blood runs cold as he wills himself to lift his head. His chest tightens when he’s met with his worst fear.

She’s as breathtakingly gorgeous as the day he left her at the bottom of the airport escalator. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, but bright and lively as ever. Her skin is perfectly tanned, and her hair pulled into a neat braid that extends down her back. She’s a bit flushed, assuming she is in the middle of a run.

The barista has completely abandoned Harry’s croissant in order to lean over the counter and talk to her. He passes her her favorite drink; a green iced tea, lightly sweetened with lemon.

In his observation of this interaction, Harry forgets to breathe, so he lightly chokes on his own saliva. He’s hidden from their view, so he’s not worried about being caught.

Are they friends? Are they more? Was she in essentially no pain since she ended it?

Peering around, he can’t find an emergency exit. Paul will start to question why he’s been in there so long. The other worker finally brings his croissant to Harry, but there’s no way he can physically stomach it.

More people are entering the coffee shop, so Briar waves shyly to the barista and makes her way out of the shop.

He counts to 30 before pushing himself to his feet. The lock in his jaw is tight and his shoulders are so tense he’s scared he’ll snap a tendon.

He leaves the croissant, grabbing the drinks and stalking out of the shop. He’s moving haphazardly around the small cafe style tables.

“Have a good day, man!” the barista shouts, to which Harry ignores and slams the door with the strength of Thanos, he’s sure the whole building shook.

Paul is stood outside the car, leaning on the hood, his eyes a little wide, “Was that…”

“Yes,” Harry snaps, handing Paul the cup.

He rips the door open returning to his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can’t help but obsess over one detail:

She didn’t fucking pay for her drink.

~

For the remainder of her run, Briar felt unsettled, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She never feels this paranoid unless she takes too much of her edible gummies. Even then, she always had Harry with her to make her feel safe.

Things with Spencer are stagnant; they’ve hooked up a few times, and he’s invited her to meet his friends. They have a good time when they’re together, but she isn’t feeling the spark. Since shutting off contact from Harry, she’s grasping for male attention; something she’s worked on since starting therapy.

There’s a networking event at Wynnewood later today, so Briar is anxious to know if Niall will be there. They’ve effectively avoided one another, treading the subject of she and Harry’s relationship lightly.

Her pace picks up when she hits the public garden, stomach twisting in pain when she passes the bench in the little alcove where she and Harry had their first official date. Tears begin to prick in her eyes, making her squeeze them shut to try and stop it from getting worse.

Her relationship grief comes in waves; waves of missing him and fits of anger. Anger at herself, really. Deep down, Briar recognizes she fucked up. She won’t admit it, though. The amount of times she’s wanted to pick up her phone, unblock him and grovel at his feet should have her on some sort of government watchlist. She reaches her apartment complex in record time.

While the shower runs, she foam rolls her legs and starts to lay out her skin care on the counter. Her phone is blasting her calming playlist, and her favorite bergamot candle from Target is lit. She’s not sure what comes over her, but she delicately enters her passcode and scrolls to Harry’s contact.

Her stomach churns and her finger hovers over the unblock button. She’s a split second from unblocking him when she hears Gus bark abruptly in the other room. Slamming her phone back down, she strips her clothes and jumps into the cold shower. That should clear her head a little.

Getting ready and driving to Wynnewood went by in a blur. Her knuckles are white from gripping her steering wheel tightly. She’s certain she’ll see Niall today. He’s the executive sponsor of the networking and charity event on the back course and luncheon in the main dining room. She just hopes his best mate isn’t there to support. She’ll donate an extra buck to make up for that damning thought.

Briar spots her Uncle Patrick in his office squinting at the computer screen as he normally does. She smiles to herself before gently opening the door. Patrick looks up, glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Hey, Bear,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she sighs, taking her usual spot on the sofa.

“I sent over your itinerary for California. We’ll all be on the same flight, but you’ll be on your own for most of the trip. The boys and I will be playing at Pebble Beach and a few other courses. But, I’m sure you’ll keep busy with your mom.”

Briar inhales through her nose at the mention of her mother. This will be her first time visiting her in her new life in California. Anxiety bubbles in her chest, causing her to feel her pulse at her neck.

“We want you to come over for dinner when you drop Gus off and stay the night so I can take us all to the airport Sunday morning.”

Her jaw locks at that. This is a mandated trip, planned by her uncle so she can’t put it off. She’s the last of her siblings to visit. Seeing her mother start over with a new family seems too much to bear. Her heart hurts thinking about it.

“Okay. Are you sure Aunt Mer is okay watching him? I can have Caroline stay at my apartment.”

“She’s fine. She’ll want a buddy for the week, anyway.”

Briar hums, playing with the hem of her shirt as she musters up the courage to go out on the course. But before she does, she scrolls to Harry’s contact again and finally bites the bullet to unblock him.

~

Harry finally makes it back to his house. The sun is rising, casting an orange hue over the windows. He sees his annoying neighbor Maureen watering her plants, so he’s sure if she sees him she’ll fill him in on 12 weeks of nonsense he missed.

The lawn is well kept and the windows are clean. Madison did a good job of making sure his house is in order. His heart twinges when he enters the new code on his lock, imagining Briar on this same step, cursing him out and steam blowing out of her ears. He misses the way her nose would scrunch up any time she was cross with him.

Slowly, the door opens and the deafening silence hits him like a bus. No sign of life anywhere. He isn’t tripping over her shoes, and he doesn’t smell the light traces of coconut and citrus from her perfume anymore.

Paul follows behind him, placing his bags down by the entryway. Harry says nothing, but nods at him appreciatively.

“I’ll be back to pick you up for the airport on Sunday, Harry.”

“Thanks, Paul. Have a good day.”

Dreading the walk upstairs, Harry continues on with his carry-on so he can shower and try to sleep off as much jet lag as he can. He has a feeling he’ll have a lot of early mornings this week to get back on track.

He stomps up the stairs, preparing himself to see his bedroom with no traces of Briar left. The door squeaks when he opens it, and a gust of wind escapes his lungs. It feels wrong; almost too sterile. Briar brings a certain level of peace and comfort everywhere she goes, and now his house feels empty and void of color and fun.

Hell, he even wishes his sheets were twisted from Gus rolling around on the bed even though Harry hates it. The three of them just fit. It was easy.

Harry pads into the bathroom, turning the water in his shower on the hottest setting, ignoring the lonely blue toothbrush sitting on the counter, clearly missing its pink companion.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, not expecting to be hit with the grief from something as simple as that.

Just before he strips, he opens his text conversation with Briar to send his daily “ . ” to see if he’s still blocked. This time, the message is blue.

Harry’s heart stops for a split second. A rush of adrenaline shoots up his spine, but he can’t help the smile that’s formed on his face.

~

Briar finally emerged from Patrick’s office, so she quickly scurries to the garage to start loading up her cart. The bar backs already got a head start on it, so really she is only putting out the fun straws and straightening up.

She spots Joaquin, the stuffed bird Harry got her. She’ll spare him — for now. She thanks the boys for their help before setting off to the back course.

Wynnewood is packed with people, thanks to the networking and fundraising event hosted by Niall and the men’s league he plays in on Wednesday nights. She’s bound to see him, so she’s basking in the moments of no awkwardness.

Zipping past the practice green and driving range, she spots a lot of members who are never at the club at the same time; it’s all of her worlds colliding at once. No sign of Niall.

The shift is going relatively smoothly; Everyone is in great moods, and being even more generous. She’s already decided she’ll donate a portion of her tips to the fundraiser.

Rounding the 14th hole, she sighs as she sees Niall seemingly waiting for her. He’s leaning suavely on his golf club, tan chinos hugging his legs nicely. He smiles at her facial expression, knowing he has her in his trap.

Panicking, Briar slowly approaches him on the path. As Niall begins to speak, Briar punches the gas and plows over the grass, cutting around Niall. In shock, he whips around and begins to shout after her. She smiles to herself smugly as she whips to the 15th hole.

The grounds crew will have to forgive her for fucking up the grass.

Briar makes it through the afternoon without running into Niall again. But at 3pm, she’s in need of a break. She parks the cart and heads to the locker room. Staring down at her phone, her breath hitches when she sees a notification from Harry.

Just as she’s about to swipe to open the message, a pair of hands grabs her and she’s suddenly lifted into the air.

“Oh my God! What the f—”

Niall is laughing hysterically as he drags her into the empty steam room. He covers her mouth so she stops screaming. He places her down on the ground and she starts to smack him on the chest.

“Niall, what the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing a fucking girl like that!”

“I know, you’ll have to forgive me,” He laughs sitting down on the teak bench. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he reasons, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure about that?”

Briar stays put. Niall cocks his head at her, fully assuming if that were the truth, she’d have left by now.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “What?”

“What is going on? You’ve been AWOL, Harry won’t talk to me, and I’m just plain miserable. Why did he fuck off to England?”

Briar is quiet. She had no idea he hasn’t been in the states this entire time. She figured he was avoiding Wynnewood.

“He was in England?”

Niall hums, “There it is. There’s the confirmation.”

“Fucking — Fine, yes, Niall, we broke up. I broke it off.”

Niall sighs again standing up to face her, “I figured as much. It’s been like, two months, and he’s barely had a conversation that’s not about work with me. He worked remotely from his sister’s.”

Her heart hurts knowing Harry fled to England; reminiscent of when Camille ended the engagement. She can’t help but feel like a villain.

“Briar, you’re 24. I think anyone with a good head on their shoulders would have apprehensions if their significant other has a kid. He just needed time.”

Tears prick in her eyes as she hears the one thought she’s been beating herself up over for weeks.

“I know,” she admits quietly.

“There’s plenty of time to fix it, if that’s what you want.”

Niall pulls her to his chest, the most physical touch she’s received in weeks. He leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sweating out of my arsehole right now.”

She guffaws and shoves him, turning on her heels to leave the steam room. She pulls her phone back out to deal with the text from Harry. She mentally prepares to read a long text trying to get her back. Instead, she’s met with a single “ . ”

What the fuck?

~

Friday night comes quicker than Briar likes. She begrudgingly loads her luggage and Gus’s supplies into the Jeep and sets off for her Aunt and Uncle’s house. Her brothers are already there, based on the memes in the “BarlHOES” family group chat.

Her uncle is quick to help her unload and manage Gus, and Cormac grabs her small suitcase and backpack. She gives her youngest brother a big hug. They silently embrace until Cormac pulls away.

She follows the two of them inside and is greeted by her aunt.

“Hi, sweets! I’ve missed you, honey.”

Briar hugs her aunt and gives her her best fake smile. Meredith looks at her knowingly.

Dinner goes by in a blur; Briar only participating if directly spoken to. The boys head to bed early to prepare for their rude wake up call at 3:30 AM. Patrick bids the girls a good night after he takes out the trash.

Briar slowly backs out of the kitchen, hoping her aunt doesn’t notice. Meredith clears her throat and slams two wine glasses down on the kitchen island. She silently reaches down into the wine fridge and pulls out a Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Sit,” Meredith orders.

Briar exhales and gives in. She pulls out the stool and rests her legs on the spare one between them while Meredith pours.

“How long?” Meredith pries.

“How long, what?” Briar plays dumb.

“The break up. The break. Whatever you’re calling it,” She pokes. “The reason you’ve been M.I.A.”

“10 weeks, maybe? I ended it,” Briar replies, stone faced. “I’m hooking up with someone from my program now.”

Meredith sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “What spooked you?"

“Nothing. I just wanted Harry to be able to adjust to being a dad without me in the way. I had the parent who didn’t choose her kids, and it sucked.”

“I think those were two completely different situations, Bri. Your mom had issues and needed to focus on getting better. Harry can easily find a balance with his circumstances.”

Briar rubs her neck, “I’m only 24, I can’t be someone’s step-mom,” Briar replies out of exasperation.

Meredith glares at her and clears her throat, “Um, I was only 27 when I took in FIVE little monsters. Cormac was barely even eating solid foods!”

Briar laughs, and takes a sip. “You’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

“It was the sexiest thing watching Patrick care for all of you. It showed commitment and stability,” Meredith recalls fondly. “And it takes a strong partner to keep it all together. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Briar inhales deeply, resting her head on her forearms, “I know what we had was good. Amazing, even. I fucked it all up. I told him not to contact me. But obviously I wanted him to. He respects me so fucking much, he listened!”

Meredith laughs, “Briar, he’s 40 years old. He’s not gonna play your game. So, now, you need to figure out what you’re going to do about it. I suggest you do some reflecting and journaling when you’re in California. And smoke a joint. It’ll give you all the clarity you need.”

Briar hums, shaking her head.

“I think you already know what you want. You just have to go get it.”

~

Harry’s wake up call on Sunday ripped him from a deep sleep; the best night’s sleep he’s had since getting back to the states. He’s usually up by 4:45 AM pacing the kitchen and reorganizing things for the hell of it.

But today, he’s sluggish, and doesn’t even want to move from his bed. Rising to a seated position on the edge, he cracks his neck, followed by several cracks down his vertebra.

He checks his phone to find a text from Camille from 30 minutes ago. She, Oliver, Theo and Amelie are 2 hours from landing. Harry and Oliver are going on a solo trip, so Camille and her family are staying in New York for the next 2 weeks while they bond. Harry has a few stops in mind, and he can’t wait to spend this time alone with him.

Paul texts Harry that he’s downstairs. He unlocks the door from his phone, and sends him a text to let him know where his luggage is. For good measure, Harry checks his messages between himself and Briar. The message is still blue, but no indication that she read it.

He slips down the stairs after getting ready to head to the airport to meet them. Harry and Oliver’s flight is in a few hours, giving them plenty of time to go through customs and get him situated.

The ride is silent; Harry slipping in and out of a light sleep. Paul isn’t talkative in the morning, either. For some odd reason, there’s a traffic jam at the terminal. Harry can’t quite place what’s going on, but spots a family that looks like they’re arguing and some of their bags rolled into the road. Harry shrugs and pulls hood further over his eyes to block out the bright lights of the terminal.

Camille’s plane hasn’t landed yet, so Harry opts to lay in the car until it’s closer to when they’ll hit customs. With time to kill, he slips back into a peaceful sleep.

~

“Get the fuck out of my face!” Jasper screams at Welles before shoving him out of the way.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything!” Welles screams back.

Before they know it, suitcases are toppling over into the street, and Uncle Patrick jumps out of the driver’s seat to intervene. He shoves Jasper, who’s significantly taller than the rest of the boys, and shoots Welles a glare.

“Knock it off! Callum, Cormac. Pick the suitcases up. Now!”

Cars are honking and swerving to avoid the family’s altercation. All of this is happening at the grand old time of 6:15 AM. The younger boys roll their eyes before listening to their uncle.

Briar is disassociating in the passenger’s seat, not even lifting her head to assess the situation. She woke up with extreme anxiety, so she’s just praying her heart doesn’t jump out of her chest.

“Fucking ridiculous. 30 years old, for Christ’s sake,” Patrick mutters about Welles.

If there’s one thing about the Barlowe boys, they settle everything physically. They’ll even team up on Briar every once in a while, throwing her in a headlock or slamming her down on the sofa.

She finally snaps from her daze and maneuvers to grab her belongings. For all she cares, she’ll head in alone and pretend she doesn’t know them. Once she’s through security and has her Starbucks, she’ll be golden.

They descend toward the escalator, until Briar hears a gasp. She whips her head around to her younger brother, Cormac, looking white as a ghost.

She places her hands on his shoulders, her sisterly instincts kicking in, “Mac? What’s wrong, bubby? Are you gonna be sick?”

He speaks so softly she has to lean in to hear him.

“Bri, I forgot my license. Are they gonna let me on the plane?”

She tries to mask the pain on her face, but fails. She glances over at her stressed uncle, whose blood pressure is probably only just lowering. Cormac turned 18 3 days ago, so she knows their chances of flying without his license is slim to none

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Uncle Patrick,” she pats his head lightly.

They are 25 feet from the security line, so Briar speaks up.

“Uncle Pat, don’t make a scene, please,” she reasons. “Mac doesn’t have his I.D.”

Patrick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and regulate his reaction. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone to dial American Airlines. Briar watches as he places his phone between his shoulder and ear, and aggressively waves the family to follow him back downstairs.

Needless to say, none of the Barlowes got on that plane.

~

It was just like the movies when Harry reunited with Oliver. He stood at the bottom of the escalators and waited for his boy to spot him from the top. He immediately bounces on his heels but refrains from running down the escalator when Camille shoots him a look. Amelie is strapped to Camille’s chest while Theo manages the bags.

“Papa!” Oliver shouts as soon as he’s within earshot of Harry.

“Mate! Welcome to America!”

Camille smiles as she makes the final steps off the escalator. She looks down at her excited boy fondly and gives Harry a side hug as to not disturb the baby.

“Customs line long?” Harry asks, breaking up the mild awkward silence. Theo finally joined them, shaking Harry’s hand and pulling him in for a bro hug.

“Not bad today. Packed far too much, though,” Theo grumbles, looking directly at Camille.

“2 1/2 weeks in New York means 2 months worth of clothes,” she smirks.

While Harry takes Oliver to California solo, Theo and Camille are staying in New York. Camille worked out several business deals, so she’ll have in-person meetings the entire time. When Harry and Oliver return, they’ll fly home to Paris together. After that, Harry’s not sure when he’ll see him next.

Camille felt more comfortable being in on the same continent during their first solo trip. Harry is stoked — he planned the whole trip to Montecito, being sure to hit all his old favorite spots and spend plenty of time in the sun. Even though he and Camille aren’t together, he thinks it’s important to tell Oliver about their story. He probably won’t understand, but he’s excited nonetheless.

Oliver stifles a yawn, so Harry takes that as their queue to start their own trip. They have about an hour until their flight. He needs coffee and a good bagel.

Camille leans down to give Oliver a huge hug, whispering in his ear to behave, be kind and have fun. The boy smiles brightly, wiggling his first loose tooth at her.

“That tooth better be gone when I see you next, mister!” She smiles, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I think we can arrange that. Does the tooth fairy travel?” Harry laughs.

Harry bids the couple farewell, and drags he and Oliver’s bags behind him. He spots a Dunkin’ Donuts, so he decides to treat them to some coffee — hot chocolate for the little guy — and munchkins.

Oliver’s eyes light up at the taste of his first American donut. Harry hopes he isn’t going to regret this later, unsure of how Oliver reacts to loads of sugar. It’s the American way, he supposes.

To pass the time, Oliver colors and the two of them play tic tac toe. He’s grateful he wasn’t raised as an iPad child. They talk about what movies they’re going to watch, fully knowing the boy will probably sleep for most of the flight. He’s a trooper after almost 24 hours of travel.

Harry shows Oliver pictures of their bungalow for the next 2 weeks; a small cottage steps from the beach and a short walk from the Beachwood Cafe, he and Camille’s old stomping grounds.

About 20 minutes before the flight, Harry ushers them over to their gate. As he’s sitting down, he partially tunes out the chatter around him, until he hears an announcement from the desk associate, her accent thick.

“Bare-low party of six, please check in at the desk.”

Harry looks around, in case the love of his life is right under his nose. He can’t be that lucky.

Then again, 10 minutes later.

“Bare-low, party of six, last call to check-in. Standby passengers, please come to the desk.”

Getting Oliver settled, they wait for their boarding call. They board third, a new perk of having a kid.

He places their bags in the overhead bin, sets his boy up with snacks, juice and headphones for a movie, but he can already see his little eyelids fluttering. Painstakingly slow, the plane boards. Harry paid close attention to the passengers coming on, and he knew his luck had run out.

Though, the seat next to him is suspiciously empty as the pilot announces the closing doors.

~

Thanks to Aunt Meredith leaving pilates to drive an hour to the airport during rush hour, Mac has his license and they’re booked for a later flight. The family swiftly runs through security and heads to their gate. The boys have calmed down, opting to lay in an empty row of chairs. Two are sleeping and two are scrolling their phones.

Patrick is scratching Briar’s head as she leans against him, something they’ve always done since she was little and pretended to be a dog everywhere they went.

Their boarding group is called, so they embark on their journey, leaving Briar to suck it up. She’s decided she’s going to make this trip about her, leaving all distractions behind. Her mother, Harry, Spencer, and school.

Settling into her seat, she turns on the movie she queued up and gets comfortable. She watches about 25 minutes of the movie before dozing off. She hopes Patrick will wake her to get a biscoff biscuit and a ginger ale, but she doesn’t have high expectations.

~

Patrick nudges Briar awake when there’s 40 minutes left in their flight. She climbs over a sleeping Cormac to use the bathroom and stretch her legs. She spots her other brothers a few rows back, smiling at the way they’re piled on one another. It reminds her of them all as kids, dog piling on a fort of pillows in the basement.

She stretches her arms above her head as she pees, swearing plane bathrooms have gotten smaller. She takes a selfie in the plane bathroom before heading back to her seat. Cormac is still passed out, so she clambers over him to the window seat.

Before she knows it, the plane is descending into Los Angeles. A pit forms in her stomach knowing she is spending the next 2 weeks with her mom while her brothers and uncle golf and surf most of the time.

Patrick rented two cars; so she opts to ride with Welles. It’s not often the two of them are alone. He was 12 when their dad died, so he had a more realistic grasp on what was happening to their family. He was Cormac’s age when their mother sought treatment. His bright, happy demeanor dissipated quickly. It makes Briar’s heart hurt sometimes. Her siblings dealt with these issues differently, and they’ve never had a true heart to heart about it.

They drive for a few miles, Welles fiddling with the Bluetooth and playing his music. They’re in the car for the next few hours, so Briar finally got the courage to speak up.

She clears her throat, “what moment did you realize Mom needed help?”

Welles’ eyebrows scrunch, and he looks over at his sister before looking back at the road.

“Uhm,” he starts, not sure where to begin. “I remember Mom picking me up from the first day of middle school. She was waiting for me in the pick up line, and she was slurring her words. I obviously didn’t know what being high was, so I was scared something was wrong with her health.”

She closes her eyes, remembering that day vividly. Uncle Patrick came storming into the house, yelling at their mother. Welles called him, too scared to get in the car with her.

“I remember that,” Briar replies quietly. “Mine was when she kept missing important things; school events and doctors appointments. It got to the point she didn’t know what day it was.”

“Yeah,” Welles responds solemnly. “Well, that’s in the past now. She’s better. Even though I don’t agree with some of the choices she’s made recently, we have to try to support her.”

“I know,” she starts to sniffle. “It was just fucked up to put that kind of pressure on us.”

Welles reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, “I know, Bear.”

~

Harry and Oliver’s trip started off smoothly. He collected their bags and got them on the shuttle to the rental car office. Oliver could still barely keep his eyes open, so Harry held him while they stood in line. When it was finally their turn, Harry was ecstatic (first to relieve his back and arms from carrying 55 pounds, and second, because he rented them a convertible coupe).

It’s similar to the car he used to drive around Montecito as golden hour hit the coastline. He and Camille would drive on the Pacific Coast Highway and head to the beach to smoke a joint and watch the stars. He smiles to himself fondly.

He sets Oliver up with a booster seat in the back, and rolls the top down. If he weren’t so tired, he’s sure he’d be smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, je suis fatigué,” Oliver mumbles.

Harry smiles to himself. Even though Oliver can speak English well, his native tongue slips out when he’s exhausted.

“I know, mate. As soon as we’re at the house we can sleep some more.”

“D’accord, Papa.”

They drive for a while, and Harry slows down to stare out at the ocean as he drives through familiar towns. He’s excited to have some decent Mexican food again.

They pull up to the bungalow a little before noon. He lifts Oliver from his booster, laying his head on his shoulder. He unlocks the door based on the AirBnB host’s instructions, and gently lays him down on the sofa in the main room. His face scrunches in protest, and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s looking in the mirror. Even their mannerisms are identical.

Jogging back out to the car, Harry unloads and gets everything inside before locking up. He’s excited to head out back and enjoy the view. He snaps a few photos of the water, and sends his daily “ . ” text to Briar.

The bubble is blue again.

~

Briar and Welles talked the whole drive to Montecito. They laughed as they covered what seemed like years they’ve missed out on being close. She hopes this is a turning point for them.

Her phone chimes, and her heart stops as she looks down at the notification. Another fucking “ . ” from Harry! What does that even mean?

“What’s wrong?” Welles pipes up. She must’ve made a sound or had a sour face.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure if I told you, but Harry and I broke up.”

“Yeah, Jasper told me. Sorry to hear.”

“Thanks. So, I blocked him like, 2 months ago, and I just unblocked him the other day. I’ve been getting messages that only have a period in them, and I have no idea what that means.”

“It means he’s been testing if he’s still blocked. He’s probably been sending those the entire time.”

Briar ponders this. She kind of thinks it’s funny. And a little sad.

She laughs, “Do you know that from experience?”

“Maybe. Before Imani and I were good together, we were not so good together,” he says, hysterically laughing.

The GPS indicates they’re at their destination. It’s a nice house that overlooks the ocean, and appears to be well kept.

Patrick and the other boys are already inside, so Welles and Briar approach the front door to knock. They’re greeted by a small girl, no older than 8 years old, in a purple princess gown.

“Hi,” Briar smiles.

The girl ignores her and retreats back inside. She and Welles shrug, stepping into the threshold of the house. They follow the loud voices into the main living room. Along the way, she spots photos on the walls of her mother, her new husband, and his kids. Her heart pangs when she realizes there isn’t a trace of her or her brothers.

“Bear! Wellie!” Catherine Barlowe screeches. “All my babies under one roof!”

She hugs both of them and plants strong kisses on their cheeks.

“Did you meet Penelope?”

“Uh, I think so,” Welles responds.

“You remember Dean, right? And these are his two other girls, Daphne and Delaney,” she points to two identical girls. They’re probably 10 years old. Briar remembers seeing photos of them at the wedding.

Dean leans in to give her a hug and shake Welles’ hand.

They all exchange pleasantries until Briar excuses herself outside. Their back deck is gorgeous, and overlooks a picturesque part of the ocean. She snaps a few photos, and fights the urge to send them to Harry.

~

By the end of day 9, Harry is exhausted. He wasn’t aware of the mental toughness required to occupy a child, feed said child, and and also take care of himself. His heart grows three sizes everytime Oliver smiles during a new activity, making it all worth it.

They’ve already explored the beaches, went shopping, went to the aquarium, explored Big Sur, and even spent a day on the golf course. Harry just had to sneak one day of golf in to keep sane. Oliver reacted well and had fun chasing the golf cart, despite the nasty looks from members.

They start off most of their days by walking to Beachwood for coffee and croissants, and Harry tells Oliver their plans for the day. It’s been nice to reminisce his life with Camille. Almost like exposure therapy.

They check in with Camille frequently, and Harry’s even gone out of his way to vlog their entire trip. Maybe he’ll put together a video at the end. Briar used to love vlogging. She’d take 1 second clips and arrange them with his favorite songs. Some videos were for their eyes only.

Camille is busy with work, but she’s thinking of leasing a New York apartment to make traveling with Oliver easier. Harry’s not sure how to feel about it.

Harry goes to sleep that night with a plan to take Oliver kayaking. They’ll swing by Beachwood before heading off.

~

Briar’s brothers and uncle have golfed every single day, leaving her to stay with her mother and her new family. It’s interesting seeing her mother in this role; almost like she’s on a TV show. This trip should be healing for Briar, but she feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

The moment she woke up, Briar informed her mother that she’d like to spend the day alone. They’d gone shopping one on one and went to lunch, but Briar felt a major disconnect. Her mother took some offense, but understood she’s there for a few more days.

Slipping on her running sneakers and pink trucker hat, Briar set off up the hills of Montecito. She’s explored every coffee shop in the neighborhood and has one left that her mother raves about; the Beachwood Cafe. Her running pace has improved tremendously, so she makes it to the doors of the cafe just after 8. It’s jam packed, but she realizes it’s a Saturday. On vacation, she loses track of the days.

After ordering her iced green tea and a croissant, she spots an open table outside. The sun is shining, but the damning humidity from the east coast is nowhere to be found. She could live in weather like this forever.

Her podcast is playing and she just started the mini crossword when she feels the vibrations of the extra seat at her table being drug away from the table. Startled, Briar looks up to find a young boy, loose chocolate brown curls on his head, freckles, and bright green eyes staring at her. Still a bit stunned, Briar doesn’t react when the boy sits at her table. He has a book of marine animals with him, equipped with a sticker set.

Her heart is beating erratically. It can’t be, can it?

The boy is paying her no mind as she wordlessly starts to pack up her things. She’s cursing herself for bringing so much shit with her on a run. He munches on his croissant with strawberry jam and watches her fumble around.

Finally, she gathers her things and heads to the door, her head down in case this is really happening. She takes 5 stunted steps before running into a rock-solid object. She stares down at the brightly colored Hoka sneakers belonging to the man she’s utterly in love with, but is choosing to torture herself and stay away from.

“Birdie?”

___________________________________________

REUNITED N IT FEELS SO GOOOOOOD :D

Wrapping up the story in part 10 <3 I already know how I want it to go, so hopefully I can get it up soon.

[ophernelia]

can we see a lou mood board next pls 😽😽

Ofc!

Lou’s real simple just like his daddy. He’s a car boy. He fixed up his green Volvo all on his own. He got the car from Hattie and it was in pretty rough shape. Even though Imogen and her parents only came by during the summer, he still spent 90% of his time at Hattie’s house. Once she got to the point where she couldn’t drive, I feel like she just gave him her car.

It’s hard to show in game, but I’ve always pictured Lou’s hair being kinda curly. I don’t think it’d be pin straight. He’d have deep waves or big chunky curls just like Lucian.

He will not leave the house without some gold jewelry on. Especially nowadays. It’s something Annisa really got him started on. He absolutely is stealing accessories from his sister.

Lou’s a decent cook! He’s learned a lot from Hattie, Imogen, and Dallas. Right now, Lucian’s teaching him how to make more Peruvian dishes. (I know the food pictured isn’t Peruvian lol. It was just a really nice picture)

Side note- I like to think that in between seasons 2 and 3 Lou got the chance to visit Peru and meet the rest of his family. I can see him falling in love with the food because of the taste and just because it reminds him of them.

[evrytforourmoony]

hiiii how are youuu <3 lil question time: three fav marauders fics? tell me one LOVELY thing about each of them

(I just found your profile and I feel like you have good taste :) )

thanks for the compliment!!!! omg its mean so much to me when ppl tell me i have good tatse haHA

so top 3 marauders fic ever (i havent read much tho, im the type of person that gonna stick with one story and read it over and over and over and dont even bother to find another one):

1. last of the summer sun: love live laugh (or sth idk) superloonyluna i thanks the ao3 god everyday for letting me know abt this fic, the writing is absolutely PHENOMENAL, i want to dive into the story and be their friends. has the loveliest nicknames ever (lilybug, blue jay, hattie, goldilocks etc etc like shes so creative with nicknames what??), i could yap abt this fic for hours. super good and underatted af, pls check it out if u havent read it u gonna love it swear!!

2. tcoptp: do i have to say more!?!?!?!? one of the most loveliest fic ever omg again i want to dive into the story and be friend with them its not funny anymore. the most coming of age fic ever to exist, and wolfstar in cadence is DELISH and yeah i still have nightmares abt their breakup near christmas break (iykyk). btw im shitting my pants waiting for pt2, let mot cook but still im scared for my dear life

3. lessen my load: anything from moonymoment is so awesome, but this is my fav from her. the humour is unmatched (i laughed so hard looking at chapters titles, 'no being gay in peter's room tm' peak title ever), i was giggling so so hard reading this, lml wolfstar is so cute they make me wanna squeeze their head <3

honourable mention: nothing left (but some blood where the body fell), im currently reading this and the letter from reg to sirius in first chapter had me broke down and sobbed <3

again thanks thanks sm for the compliment!! hope u have a good day!!

[dixie12]

still working through a lot of wyatt & joe feelings

Wyatt came off the ice in a daze. 19 games in 42 days and now it was just.. over. This year was supposed to be different, and after making it through the gauntlet of Vegas and then Colorado, there wasn’t a single person in the room who doubted they could make it all the way. They’d dominated in game 3, the win fueling their confidence, celebrating Robo’s hatty and reveling in silencing the opposing crowd. Then the wheels came off in game 4, and 96 brutal hours later they were in the handshake line as blue and orange confetti streamed down around them in Rogers Place. 

Joe found him milling around on the ice after, pulling him in for a hug, and they skated off together, getting their final stick taps from Jamie on the way out. The room was muted, quiet, with none of the usual post-game music or chatter. Everyone had their heads down, just going through the motions as quickly as possible. The cheers from the Edmonton room were audible through the walls, and Wyatt shook his head, trying to block them out. He barely had time to strip out of his gear before they let the media into the room. He hadn’t showered, had barely traded out his pads for a t-shirt before he had a microphone in his face. He’d known it was coming; they all knew that as soon as they were out, if they didn’t win the damn thing, that the first question people were going to ask would be about Joe, but all of the PR-approved soundbites vanished from his head when he heard the words. 

“If this is it, what has he meant to you?” How could Wyatt put that into words? Even if the media gave him a week to prepare and an hour to deliver a soliloquy about it, he’d never be able to express what Joe meant to him, the impact Joe’d had on his life. How could he even begin to explain the way Joe had taken him in when he just nineteen, so much closer to his son’s age than his own, and made Wyatt feel so at home, but still respected. He was never patronizing, never condescending, even when Wyatt was falling asleep in the middle of dinner during his rookie season. The media loved to ask Joe about it, and sure, Joe shared some of the funnier anecdotes, like Wyatt accidentally using his truck as the backstop when he was practicing slapshots, but he never told them anything real. Joe had stayed up with him so many nights that first year, letting Wyatt ramble while they played video games in the darkness, rubbing his back when the stress and homesickness got to him, teaching how to cook, taking him hunting with Nate. He’d gotten some ribbing when he asked Joe if he could stay a second year, but really, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, couldn’t imagine why he’d want to.

And now it was over. Joe hadn’t confirmed anything, but they all knew the truth, knew it in their bones that this had been Joe’s final ride, and they’d failed him. Wyatt had failed him. He struggled through an answer that felt foreign in his mouth as he said it, all of his focus on keeping the tears in his eyes from rolling down his face, keeping the sob that was building in the back of his throat locked there, not falling apart in front of the world’s hockey media. He made it through, barely, and then looked around the room. Of course Joe was surrounded, and he looked at peace, calm and in control the way he always did, and Wyatt couldn’t imagine being in the room without him. This couldn’t be the last time, but it was. Wyatt had given his all, given them 5 points in 6 games, but it hadn’t been enough, not this time. He and Logan and Jamie and Tyler.. they’d left it all out there for Joe, but the hockey gods didn’t care, and Joe was going to retire never having lifted the cup. He couldn’t stand it anymore, the guilt and the regret, and the tears he’d been holding back broke through. He choked out a sob, and the sound of it got Joe’s attention. He was beside Wyatt in a flash, strong arms wrapping around him.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joe whispered in his ear, quiet, for him and no one else. “It’s ok, Wyatt. I know. I know,” and Wyatt cried harder, because even after all of this, Joe was still looking out for him, trying to make him feel better. He let Joe take his weight, let him take care of him one last time.

[hockybish]

https://www.tumblr.com/hockybish/757204747841404928/what-would-yall-like-to-talk-about-tonight

Who from the Au's go grocery shopping out of the couples?

Trevor x Bean: They don't typically go grocery shopping, Bean usually places an order online and will either have it delivered or Bean will go pick it up.

Luke x Maisie: Jack does because for a good of their early relationship they're living with Jack. But after

Matthew x Nico: It depends what season it is. If it's hockey, Nico goes out and gets the food. If it's basketball that Matthew does.

Quinn x Mom: Quinn makes the list, and Mom loads up Hattie and they go to the store. Hattie is always reaching for things they don't need and plopping them in the cart. Mom doesn't question it and buys the random things.

Mason x Lola: Lola. She's the one who can actually cook out of the two of them. She does the shopping and gets everything she needs for the week.

Matt x Posey: They go together whenever possible. It's one of their off day activities. Matt is always begging Posey to buy certain treats, and she almost always says yes.

Nico x Svea: Nico. I feel he's particular about what he wants. Unsure yet.