#i love that liam was genuinely open to the idea of that potential if they had the time to explore more of their dynamic-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onceupon · 3 years

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London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had.

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat.

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin.

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice.

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase.

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink.

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure.

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party.

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch.

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near.

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on.

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff.

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile.

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring.

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly.

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge.

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily.

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back.

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.”

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s.

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life.

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics.

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you.

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?”

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down.

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only.

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him.

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down.

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace.

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron x you

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

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Professor Lupin

Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Hey! Could I please request a Professors AU with Remus? I melt over the idea of him reuniting with someone from his school days when they both become professors and potentially a shit ton of pining from our boy Prof. Lupin ☺️ ty lovely!!! Xxx

Warning - none that know of.

A/N I hope you like it @cherrycolakxsses! Had so many doubts to post it but this I finally out. It's quite lengthy and might feel rushed at the end. Sorry!

"(Y/N) (L/N),” Professor McGonagall’s voice tore through the music blasting inside (Y/N)’s office. Does it set a bad example? Definitely. Does she care? Maybe.

“Old habits die hard, Professor,” she said, extinguishing the candlelight on her desk that's been lit since last night when she was going through a few papers. McGonagall chuckled at that.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the great hall for breakfast when Professor McGonagall said something, “Who do you reckon is going to be this year’s Defence Professor?”

“The dementors?” (Y/N) asked, looking genuinely confused.

McGonagall glared at her, “I wish you weren’t a professor, I could have deducted points,”

“Professor Slughorn would have been mad at that,” (Y/N) chuckled.

Professor McGonagall smiled at the fond memories of her past colleague complaining to her about “unfair deduction of house points”.

“But tell me a plausible guess of who might be this year’s Defence professor,” she insisted, a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, “What are you planning, Minnie?”

The said person rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Well, I will tell who the Professor is - Its Remus Lupin,”

She could see the young professor straighten, staring at a spot on the ground as her thoughts ran wild, mind flooding with memories of a certain familiar Gryffindor.

“Oh,” was all she could muster.

“He will be joining us tomorrow,” McGonagall said carefully, looking intently at the girl before her.

“What!? Tomorrow?” she said, her eyes blown wide.

“Yes, and I except for him to have a good welcome,”

“You think I would be...mean to him?”

“What are you two still in your fifth year?”

“Oh come on, Minnie! Don't do that!”

“I should give it to the two of you, it was rather hilarious,”

“What is hilarious in watching two fifteen year olds duel!?”

“You will know it,”

That night (Y/N) rolled on the expanse of her bed, wanting nothing but the face of the Gryffindor to just disappear and allow her to sleep but all she could think about was him. She wondered if that same high school crush was turning, she wished not.

“Welcome, Remus,” Professor Dumbledore greeted him with a wide smile as Remus looked around the Headmaster’s office. He had come here only a handful of times and every single instance was just not the best.

“Hello, Professor,” He said, smiling politely.

After the introductory chat, Dumbledore said, “Well, come on, then, let me introduce you to the rest.” Remus smiled awkwardly as the Professor clapped him on the back.

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as Professor McGonagall and another young woman walked in. He immediately identified her, it was (Y/N) (L/N), his once upon a time arch-nemesis. He clearly remembered her 16 year old self, a bright smile on her face as she spoke to him rationally for once, settling everything, that contrasted the taboo of students with green robes having cold look.

(Y/N)'s smile slipped as she saw him, he was extremely thin and malnourished but he did have a smile on his face that compensated for everything else.

“Hey,” she said, mustering the smile back and outstretching her hand.

Remus coughed as he managed to break out of the trail of memories and shook her hand, “Hello,”

“Ms (L/N), can you please accompany Mr Lupin to his office?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, professor,” she said without giving it another thought.

“Do you remember this place?” (Y/N) asked with a smile as they reached a deserted corridor.

Remus barked a loud laugh, “Oh, how can I not! Wasn't this the place where we charmed the water balloons to pop right above your head?”

“Yep, it was the very same place where the epic duel happened, the time I had almost won,”

“But you didn't,”

“And neither did you,”

“I think - what was his name? - Liam Holloway! Yes, he ended up in the hospital wing,”

“That's what you get when you try to get in between a duel,”

Remus chuckled, “One of the reasons that was epic because that's when they saw Hogwarts’ most silent people have a fully-fledged duel,”

"Oh, yes! But honestly, to this day I have no idea how it started,"

Remus chuckled, "It was because the water had drenched your potions and charms essay "

"My potions and charms essay? Remus," (Y/N) dissolved in a fit of giggles, "Oh goodness,"

"What?" Remus asked, a smile spreading its way on his face. He waited for her to calm down.

"Professor Slughorn had looked at me pitifully the next class and then said I didn't have to hand in that essay and Flitwick did too. I hadn't done either of their essays that time. And when they told me that I was so confused as to why they did,"

Remus' jaw dropped as he looked at her incredulously, giggles still escaping her lips, "And I being the nice person I was, I wrote that essay for you and had James put it "discreetly" into your bag. Wait, that green bag was yours, wasn't it?"

"That was you!?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Oh, Merlin, I thought it was Snape for some odd reason and I was being good to him!”

“Should I be offended?”

“I dunno, I am sorry,” she wiped the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes with the amount of laughter she did within the few minutes.

Remus watched her as she smiled and looked around, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

“This will be your office,” (Y/N) said, opening her arms wide open at the entrance, “the terms start in a couple of days and then-” she grinned at him.

Remus was slightly distracted by the tank that stood at the side of the room, perhaps it was a fish tank; it was empty so he had no idea about the use of the tank and the thought of buying a fish for it ran high.

“No, honestly, the kids are great!” she said proudly, misinterpreting his silence.

“Are they?” Remus asked as he looked around his new office.

“Yes! I mean they are so lovely and sweet and just amazing, unlike some,” she said pointedly.

Remus chuckled, “What are you insinuating, (L/N)?”

“You know exactly what I am insinuating, Lupin,” she said, smirking.

(Y/N) squeezed Remus’ arm, watching his eyes turn glossy as he looked at the boy seated at the Gryffindor table laughing with his friends, resembling a lot like Remus’ late best friend.

He sighed and looked away. Soon, Professor McGonagall engaged him in a conversation, as though sensing the situation long ago. He spoke to her, a subtle forced smile on his face though all he could think about was his friends at the age of fifteen running along the corridors hollering and howling with laughter as they did so, and (Y/N).

“Good morning, Professor Lupin,” Remus heard as he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts - his once upon a time home, where he laughed and found friends and people who loved him, people he loved - he turned around to find (Y/N) grinning at him, “You know, I never thought you’d be a Professor,”

“You think I don't have the capability?” Remus asked, his eyebrows scrunched in offence.

“No, I mean you were after all the brain behind those petty pranks,” she said, grinning at him, “Do you think I didn't notice those “secret” whispers?”

“You-how?” Remus asked.

(Y/N) froze, biting her lips to prevent the blush from spilling onto her cheeks, “That doesn't matter. By the way, I must say, that prank on Snape where his hair was neon green for a week-?”

“That was epic and you know it,” he cut in.

“Yes, I know, Lupin, let me finish, will you? The part of the reason why it was because I did something,” she smiled cheekily, looking at him through her lashes and making Remus’ heartbeat cease and he felt as though the air in his lungs were knocked out.

Remus blinked, looked at her and asked, “What?”

(Y/N) chuckled, “Yes. The potion was to turn Snape’s hair a shade of purple, it was quite nice on him I must say but it wasn't - how do I put it, um,” she snapped her fingers in the air trying to find the right word.

“Humiliating?” Remus suggested.

Her eyes widened as she chuckled, “No, more like embarrassing?”

Remus smiled, “Alright,”

“So, I had mixed a neon green solution I had stored for, well...you,”

“For me!?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle.

Remus blinked, “Why would you do that?”

“Um, good question but remember I hated you at that period of three months,” she said, shrugging.

“Well, now?” Remus asked, tilting his head slightly and staring at her intently.

“What now?” she asked.

Remus looked away from her striking orbs and at the sea of students, “You know, do you still hate me,”

“Nah,” she said and proceeded to mumble incoherently.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,”

The two of them fell into the depths of awkward silence, struggling to get back. Students who passed the greeted and smiled, giving (Y/N) an opportunity to break the silence.

"What are you planning to do in your first class?" (Y/N) asked.

Remus had brainstormed the past night. He wanted something that would make his first class a good one, an opportunity to teach the students all while taking a place in their heart and getting to know them. Remus believed that a student would like the subject if they liked the teacher.

"I thought of doing some theory part or something like that," Remus shrugged unsurely.

“Theory? On your first day?” She looked at him as though he was an alien, “Wow, Lupin, I thought you were genius,”

Somehow, as she muttered those words Remus felt a blush forming on his face, perhaps because she thought he was a genius (which he was), or it was embarrassment.

"You could do like practical like, I dunno, something cool," she said, waving her hands wildly.

"Um, what is cool?" Remus said, blankly.

(Y/N) stopped, gawked at him and left forward, shaking her head, "Do whatever you want, Lupin!" She yelled.

"Hey, hey, wait! (L/N)! HEY!" He called after her, watching her go without another glance at him, "And there she goes. Great, Remus, scared the girl away,"

"You did a boggart!?" (Y/N) exclaimed, the evening Remus had come into her office uninvited - definitely startling her - and boasting about what he taught that day.

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "Neville's boggart was Snape, you know,"

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped, "Wait, I, oh my goodness, his worst fear is Snape?"

"Yeah," Remus mumbled. (Y/N) fell silent as her eyes connected with his, both of them drawing deep breaths. She got lost into the depth of his eyes, concentrating on trying to find which colour they adorn - green? brown? amber? - it would take her years to find out.

(Y/N) coughed and looked away, breaking herself from...whatever she was put into.

"Um, uh," Remus shifted on his feet, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other scratching his neck, "Would you - um, perhaps we could, I mean, if you want to-" Remus stopped his stuttering and took a deep breath, "We could take a walk? Like just down the-"

(Y/N) chuckled, standing up and crossing the desk. She grabbed the jacket that hung on a stand in the corner of her office. The coat was an obnoxiously dark colour of green that made Remus scrunch his face.

"What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, "You don’t wanna come?"

Remus grinned extremely widely, and snatched his coat, stumbling to join her pace.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the black lake, their surroundings cold, the chill air swishing their cloaks yet the two of them felt warmth seeping into every inch of their body.

"You do know that it's way past curfew, don’t you?" Remus tried to joke. The keyword being - tried. He was bad at that, he was bad at flirting, he was absolutely terrible with girls.

But to his utter surprise, (Y/N) threw her head back, laughing, "You do know that we are Professors, don’t you?"

"Well, it’s my first day," Remus shrugged.

"Oh, now about that again - did you really do a boggart with your students? Really? In the first class you wanted them to show their fears?" She said, glaring at him.

Remus shrugged and looked around, his eyes catching the moon, it was waning gibbous, 7 days due to full moon. He was finally back at Hogwarts for the full moon. 16 years later.

"Remus," (Y/N) laid her hand on his arm. He suddenly whipped his head to look at her, the movement adding to their close proximity.

Remus froze. Her eyes. They were captivating to him. They shined under the moonlight, her eye colours modified into bright, shining ones. He fell into the mysterious depth of her eyes that pulled him closer, quite literally.

Both of them did not know when but soon their lips connected in a messy kiss but it was perfect for them. Their hands manoeuvred until hers were buried into his brown curls and his arms wound around her waist, pulling her closer. Remus tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Kissing under the moonlight, what a cliche, yet, Remus Lupin wouldn't want it any other way.

#remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin #remus john lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #professor lupin #professor!remus lupin x professor!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x slytherin!reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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jaderavenarts · 2 years

Note

Hi! Just found out about your game and tbh ever since liam said those words in talks I dreamed of having a vn surrounding caleb. So props for making my dream come true, and it looks better than I even imagined!

One thing though. In the cr tou they have on their website it says explicitly they do not allow games, and specifically things that require download. I learned about it because I also was working on a game from before they created the tou and scrapped it as a result because I really didn't feel like putting in potentially years of work and then get it banned. It sucks too because I already put in months into it, but at least it was still in the beginning phases.

The good news however, is that in YouTube there are tons of channels violating their tou with long compilations etc. that have a lot of views and it doesn't seem like cr are actually taking any actions against those channels or comps. I would advise you however to maybe upload the game to itch.io so you at least don't violate the no downloads thing.

I'm sorry I came in your asks with this unsolicited long ass advice. Just thought you should be aware of the issue, whichever course of action you might take as a result.

P.s. my game was a turn based combat m9 vs. vm battle royal in unity. Idk if you care but at least my unborn baby gets to be known ;(

No apology necessary, thank you so much for informing me, especially in such a kind way! I had no idea about their policy around games/downloads. I went to read up on it myself and to avoid heartache on either side I'm simply removing it from from being downloadable/playable and will just let it exist in video form, which I hope falls more in line with their policy on transformative fan works (I'm also open to correction on this). Thanks again, I know how hard it is to be the bearer of bad news <3

Also, I'm sorry to hear about your game! That sounds so cool and if you wanna talk more about it I'd genuinely love to hear more!

#jaderaven text #caleb widogast's bisexual maelstrom #cwbm

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter one

[ao3]

have i ever mentioned my britpop au? i don’t think i have :) this is quite literally the definition of self-indulgence like genuinely this is so self-indulgent that it probably counts as a deadly sin and i have literally no justifications for it

before anybody comes for me for starting another chaptered fic: i have 50k of this lined up and i’m still going at the speed of light (as sam can attest to) fear not we’re going to get there with this one i promise also for anyone still waiting for the soulmate au thats going to get finished too once this is out of my system

i have an inordinate number of people to thank for putting up with me/this fic so let us begin: @tirednotflirting deserves every single ounce of praise and love i have to offer for reading this whole thing, listening to me talk about it, bouncing ideas with me, being so patient and kind about it, coming up with such brilliant ideas and for just generally being an all-round sweetheart. @calumftduke also deserves excessive praise and thanks for reading a big old chunk of this and being so sweet about it. @killingangels genuinely breathed life into this fic and cheered it on to the place it is today thank u for diving into a britpop phase with me. @ashesonthefloor and @clumsyclifford listened to me whine about this fic even though neither of them care and i truly owe them for that. @kaleidoscopeminds lets me thirst over the gallaghers but keeps me in my place about it which is truly the vibe check i need and also listened to me talk about this fic over the past few weeks and is just generally such a joy to speak to. i’m certain i’ve forgotten someone my brain has not been switched on in weeks now but anyone who’s listened to me talk about this over the past few weeks deserves a ticket straight to heaven honestly

quick bit of vocab: our kid is a term used by siblings in manchester. not sure why i don’t understand mancunian culture myself but the gallaghers are always saying it in interviews and my mancunian friend concurred that it is correct so idk what goes on up there

warnings: heavy drug use (its oasis and blur in the ‘90s theres a lot of coke/weed/alcohol) and lots of swearing (including the c word because they’re british)

He’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

or: calum's in oasis and michael's in blur and it's the height of the 1990s britpop war

Liam had once asked Calum if he believed in fate.

“D’you think it’s all real?” he’d said one day, out of the fucking blue. Calum, though, used to Liam beginning conversations in the middle after two long years of knowing him, had just looked at him.

“Do I think what’s all real?” he’d asked. Liam had indicated up at the sky with his eyes and cigarette.

“Fate, and all that,” he’d said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Calum had watched as his cheeks hollowed around it, turning potential answers over and over in his mind.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he’d said eventually, and Liam had raised his eyebrows and nodded as he’d exhaled a cloud of grey smoke that had blended in with the sky and the council houses.

Calum thinks he probably should have known then. Maybe Liam had been trying to make a point, in that strange way he sometimes does - what are the odds you’d end up here, with us? Calum hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, just rolled his eyes and nudged Liam’s foot with his own and said Noel’s going to do his fucking nut if we’re not there in ten, and that had been that. The conversation never even crossed his mind again until it was too late, until fate had already had her way with Calum.

In Calum’s defence, though, fate never showed her hand. She never threw him any hints, no flashing neon signs that said Calum, your destiny is this way. Fate came piecemeal, came in short snippets of conversations or flashes of familiar faces or, on occasion, Liam and Noel swearing loudly at each other as they stomp up the stairs in Calum’s house.

“I’m arsed,” Liam’s saying loudly, when he barges into Calum’s room. Noel’s hot on his heels, midway through a spiel he’s clearly prepared which Liam’s having none of, and he turns to Calum when they get through the door, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Tell him he’s a prick,” he says.

“Why?” Calum says, setting his magazine aside, because he needs to know what he’s supposed to be endorsing before he picks a side in an argument between the Gallagher brothers.

“Our kid wants us to miss the match tonight and go to some fucking gig,” Liam grumbles, throwing himself down on Calum’s bed and picking up his magazine.

“It’s not ‘some fucking gig’, Liam,” Noel says irritably. “It’s the fucking Boardwalk. We’ve got to hear what else is out there right now.”

“I told you, I’m fucking arsed what else is out there right now,” Liam says, flicking about five pages on from the article Calum had been in the middle of reading. “I don’t write the fucking songs, do I? Go on your fucking own. You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Noel rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Calum’s Gallagher Explosion Incoming senses start tingling, followed swiftly by his Peacekeeping Skill Set activating.

“Look,” he says hurriedly, before Noel can say something that’ll lead to a couple of black eyes, mostly because neither of the brothers have ever cared much about collateral damage and Calum values his bruiseless skin. “What if we start the match, and if City look like they’re going to lose, we go to the gig?” Noel closes his mouth, and then opens it again, and then closes it again.

“Fucking whatever,” Liam grumbles, which is the closest they’re going to get to acquiescence from him. Calum stares at Noel beseechingly, because this is the best idea he’s got and pretty much the only one he thinks Liam’ll agree to, and Noel rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically, but then nods reluctantly.

“City won’t fucking lose,” he mutters, as he sits down in the chair at Calum’s desk. “Not to a bunch of Scousers.”

“Lost to Liverpool not four weeks ago,” Calum reminds him, and Noel scowls.

“That second goal was fucking offside,” he says.

“Ref was a fucking wanker,” Liam chimes in, from where he’s lying on Calum’s bed, still thumbing through the magazine. “‘Ere, what’s this, then?” he adds, with a grin, and turns the magazine around, tapping on the page. It’s a picture of a (very pretty) boy spread across a motorbike, and Calum rolls his eyes, snatching the magazine out of Liam’s hands.

“Fuck off,” he says, but Liam’s just laughing, head tipped back on the bed, all full lips and bright blue eyes and long, dark lashes. If Calum hadn’t been doing lines with Liam for half of last night, he could almost believe the angelic innocence the boy gives off.

“Looks like our kid,” Noel says, sitting down on the chair at Calum’s desk. Liam raises his head far enough to give Noel a two-fingered salute, but he’s still grinning, and Noel’s grinning too when he flips Liam off in return.

Fucking hell, Calum thinks. It’ll take more than his three O Levels to fucking understand those two.

-------

City end up conceding three goals in the first twenty-five minutes, and Liam’s the one who stands up, voice already hoarse from screaming at the TV, and demands they go out. Noel, never one to resist pressing buttons that only he can find on Liam, makes a snide comment about it, and Calum, to keep the peace, makes a comment about United, giving both brothers something to spend the entire bus journey to the Boardwalk ranting about.

Noel gets them in for free, because he knows someone who knows someone who’d been a roadie with a band who had been on tour with the Inspiral Carpets for like, half a second, or something. Calum doesn’t really care how they get in for free, whether Noel gets them in by knowing someone who knows someone or by hiring a hitman on the bouncer, as long as they do get in for free, because he’d rather save his money for weed.

The band that’s playing are immediately declared to be boring little fuckers by Liam, who beelines for the bar and only has to flutter his lashes twice before the pretty girl behind the bar sidles up to him with a coy look on her face. To his credit, though, he doesn’t linger after getting the drinks, weaving through the crowd to Noel and Calum with a mixture of shouted insults and threats at anyone in his path, three overfull pints balanced precariously in his hands.

“You’re paying me back for these,” is how he greets them again, taking a sip from Noel’s before handing it to him. Noel just rolls his eyes, turning back to the stage and raising the pint to his lips.

“Am I fuck,” Calum says, taking the other beer out of Liam’s outstretched hand. Liam scowls, but lets him take it, taking a sip from his own glass.

“I’ll just smoke your weed, then,” he says, like he doesn’t do that anyway. Calum just shakes his head and turns back to the stage, where a new band are setting up, fiddling with their amps and mic stands.

“D’you even know who these pricks are?” Liam asks Noel.

“Don’t even know if they’re worth knowing yet,” Noel says. Liam shrugs, like that’s a fair point, and then a squeal of feedback makes all three of them (and the rest of the crowd) jump, causing loud swearing from at least eight people in the vicinity as their drinks slosh over them.

“Fucking hell,” Noel mutters, shaking his hands off.

“Evening,” the lead singer says, voice deep and rich. “We’re Blur, and this is Popscene.” They immediately launch into something that’s all guitars and overdrive and beat, and Noel’s soon tapping his foot along in interest, spilled beer forgotten, as the singer starts jumping around enthusiastically. They’re not standing anywhere near the stage, and the distance and bright lights combined with the movement are making the singer look more translucent than opaque, which is making Calum’s head hurt. He chooses to focus on the bassist instead, because Noel’s kind of got a point that they should be listening to what else is around, although he’s probably just looking for more people to nick ideas off.

By the third song, though, Calum realises he’s really stood far too far away to get any benefit from watching the bassist - he can’t even tell whether he’s using a plectrum or not, and his eyes are already starting to hurt from squinting - and lets his gaze wander across the stage. There’s a guitarist wearing glasses, which Calum’s pretty sure Liam’s going to have a comment about that’ll involve the words ‘fucking’ ‘not’ and ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, with maybe ‘cunt’ chucked in for good measure. The drummer’s so far back that all Calum can make out is a shadowy figure behind the kit, and when the singer stands still long enough for Calum to see more than just a hazy figure all he can vaguely make out is what looks like very pretty features and blonde hair.

It’s the other guitarist, though, that makes Calum stop, his heart stilling in his chest for the briefest of moments.

He looks so familiar, messy blonde hair sticking up at all sorts of angles that Calum’s only ever seen on one other person, that it makes Calum’s stomach lurch. He’s got his face down, focusing on whatever they’re playing, so Calum can’t really see - not that he’d be able to tell from this distance, anyway - but there’s something that’s so achingly known to Calum that it makes him swallow, mouth suddenly dry. Even the guitarist’s posture is familiar, a little tense, a lot focused, with an edge of something cool and relaxed.

Calum’s so mesmerised by the guitarist, heart hammering in his chest, that he barely even realises three more songs have come to an end until the band all stop, gather together at the front of the stage and do an awkward half-bow-half-wave to the crowd. There’s a smattering of applause as they straighten up, and the lights are too bright for Calum to see properly, but he sees a flash of a smile that looks so much like one he hasn’t seen in almost four years that it makes something electric shoot through him before he’s even processed it, and then they’re turning around and heading off the stage.

“Fucking shite,” Liam says, over the sound of the crowd’s growing murmurs. “Would’ve rather watched City fucking lose.” They all know he’s lying. Liam’d probably rather cut off his limbs one at a time than sit at home to watch City get thrashed.

It reminds Calum where he is, though, as he takes a sip of his beer with slightly shaky hands. He’s in fucking Manchester, in a dingy bar with two of the biggest pricks he’s ever met in his life, watching shitty bands play mediocre songs to avoid having to watch his football team get massacred by Everton. It grounds him, shakes him out of it, makes him remember that he’s here, in England, not in Sydney, and he’s twenty, not seventeen. That was then, and this is now.

But for a moment - just for a few seconds - he could have sworn that then and now were the same thing. Just for one moment, he could have sworn he’d seen Michael Clifford.

-------

They stay to watch three more bands, and then Liam’s in a fucking mood and even Noel’s had enough of the music, so they head back to Noel’s flat to drink and get high. Liam and Noel bicker the whole way there, first about whether or not Liam should be paying for all the weed Noel buys that he smokes, then about whether or not Liam had actually slept over last night or whether he’d been at home, then about whether or not the shirt their mam had bought Noel for Christmas had been green or blue. Calum offers his input on all of them, siding with Noel twice and Liam once, but gets snapped at to shut the fuck up by the both of them each time, making him roll his eyes as he kicks stones along the pavement.

(“Noel’s a fucking cunt,” Liam had said to him once, fuming, after a particularly nasty argument that had ended in every bag of frozen peas being dug out of the freezer.

“Yeah,” Calum had said. “So are you, though, mate.”

“Don’t call my brother a cunt,” Liam had said, and Calum had rolled his eyes, picking up the now-defrosted bag of peas on the table and taking them back into the kitchen, where Noel was nursing his own black eye.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Noel had said furiously.

“You’re both twats,” Calum had said with a shrug, tossing the peas back in the freezer.

“Hey,” Noel had said sharply. “That’s my fucking brother.”

Calum’ll never pretend to understand them.)

They spend the night lying on Noel’s living room floor, pleasantly drunk and so stoned that Liam and Noel forget to argue for about three hours. Calum drifts in and out of sleep, listening to Liam and Noel mumbling to each other and remembering to speak once every twenty minutes or so, until Noel nudges him at what must be about five in the morning.

“What’d you reckon?” he says, looking thoughtful.

“About what?”

“That band, tonight.” They saw five bands, so Calum would be well within his rights to ask which one, but somehow, he knows.

“Good,” he says. “Interesting. Sounded new, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Noel says, rolling on his side to face Calum. He hums, like he’s thinking Calum’s words over. “Liam reckons they’re not rock ‘n’ roll enough.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“Liam reckons the fucking Stones aren’t rock ‘n’ roll enough,” he says, and Noel snorts, and it sounds so fucking ridiculous that Calum giggles, which makes Noel burst out laughing, and soon they’re cackling on the floor, tears streaming down their faces as they gasp for breath and clutch at their stitches. Liam, who’s been sleeping soundly, looking peaceful and tranquil and not at all like the guy who’d threatened to knock Calum’s teeth out for suggesting City should have played a different formation not six hours ago, stirs and opens his eyes, blinking blearily.

“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbles, and then rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Noel glances at Calum, flushed and panting from laughing, eyes bright and gleaming, and that one look is enough to make the both of them collapse in laughter again, cheeks and sides and throats hurting.

The next morning, when Liam wakes Calum up by nudging him in the ribs and saying get up, lazy bugger, we’re late for work, that’s what Calum remembers from the night before. He remembers laughter, Noel’s living room going blurry around the edges, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol, weed and two of his best mates thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t remember the boy on guitar in the Boardwalk.

-------

The next time fate has her way with Calum is a good year and a half later.

They’re recording their first album, which Noel seems to think means he’s recording his first album and everyone else is just there to complement his fucking genius. He’s not managed to stop being a cunt for about six months now, and, not one to let Noel beat him in anything, Liam’s getting equally insufferable. The studio is a fucking battleground, and Bonehead always takes Liam’s side and Tony’s just fucking useless, and Calum thinks to himself at least twice a day: is this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just stuck with construction.

They’re getting there, though, and when it’s good, it’s fucking good. They can all sense that there’s something there, something new and bold and, as Noel in all his endless humility declares it one night, groundbreaking. They’ve recorded Supersonic, a song that Noel somehow wrote in about half an hour, recorded a video for it on the roof of some warehouse in London, and there’s something about it that none of them can quite put their finger on, something that feels almost overwhelming, feels like it’s bigger than them. They’ve even been on the radio a few times, been playing bigger and bigger venues, got a contract and management and all that nonsense, and for all the flaws that combine to make up the Gallagher brothers, Noel’s got a fucking knack for songwriting and Liam’s voice is unlike anything Calum’s heard before.

The problem is that lately, it’s been bad more than it’s been good. They’d done sessions at Monnow Valley which had sounded like absolute shit, too clean and thin, and with every day that passed and every track that couldn’t be used Noel got more and more frantic, snapping at everyone who dared speak to him. Liam, never one to resist a fight with his brother, had risen to the challenge, and the fallout had been messier and dirtier and involved more collateral damage than even Calum had expected. It had culminated in a trip to Amsterdam which had ended before it even began after a fight broke out on the ferry. Calum remembers seeing Liam zooming past, a happy grin on his face, heading right for the middle of the action, and then twenty minutes later zooming past again, bruised and bloody, still grinning, being chased by a policeman. It had ended in Liam being deported, handcuffs and all, and a screaming match between the brothers in which both of them quit and were fired by the other at least twenty-three times.

Since that, though, things have got a little better. They’ve started recording in Sawmills in Cornwall with Noel as a co-producer, and Noel and Liam have started talking again, and everyone had breathed out a collective sigh of relief when Noel had announced he was going to head to the shops and Liam had wordlessly got up to join him. Slowly but surely, things have started looking up.

It’s in the middle of one of those sessions that everything changes.

“Eeyar, Calum,” Noel calls, from the corridor outside. “Your mam’s on the phone.” Calum sighs - fucking hell, what does his mum not understand about we’re recording an album and I’m twenty-two years old, I’ll call you when I fucking call you - but puts his bass aside and gets up grudgingly, trotting outside to see Noel holding out the receiver for him.

“I want you back in in ten,” he says warningly, like he’s Calum’s dad and they’re eating dinner soon, and Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, which is as good of a yes as Noel’s going to get. Noel sticks his tongue out at him and heads back into the studio, probably to yell at Bonehead from the soundboard for being too loud, or maybe too quiet, or maybe too middling. He’ll find something.

“What?” Calum says, a little irritably, lifting the receiver to his ear.

“Hello to you too, Calum,” his mum says smartly. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.” Calum rests his arm against the wall, and his forehead against his arm, and stares at his shoes.

“I’m recording an album, mum,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too annoyed. “We’re busy.” She makes a small hmm, a you should have stayed in a real job kind of hmm, but doesn’t push it.

“Are you eating well?” she asks, a stern undertone to her voice, like she knows Calum’s diet right now is entirely liquid.

“Yes,” Calum lies. He gets another disapproving hmm for his trouble which sounds like it might be the prelude to a speech about how he should stop wasting his time and come home and do a proper job and eat some vegetables, so he decides to change tack. “How’s home?”

“Oh, home’s good,” his mum says. “Janet next door’s got a new man, invited us to the wedding next month - can you imagine? A wedding in March? I said to her, I said ‘you’ll be wanting to move it to May’, and she said ‘oh, we want an indoor wedding anyway’.” Calum hums noncommittally, because he has absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. What the fuck’s wrong with an indoor wedding in March? “Anyway, your dad and I have decided to go. Janet extended the invitation to you, too, but I said I didn’t know if you’d be back from your recording session.”

“I don’t know either,” Calum says. “Noel’s being a right cunt about the whole thing.”

“Calum,” his mum says reprovingly, like she wasn’t the one he picked the word up from in the first place. “Well, regardless, you’ll be home by April, won’t you? I told your dad you’d help fix the wall in the garden.” Calum groans, because that’s pretty much the last thing on the list of things he wants to do, including having Noel claw his eyeballs out for fucking up the bass on Supersonic again, and his mum tuts. “You’ve got experience in construction, Calum. You should put those skills to good use.”

“I’ve never fixed a fucking wall, mum,” he says.

“Well, the wall needs fixing,” she says, like that’s that. The wall needs fixing, so Calum’s got to suddenly develop the skills to do it.

(For her, though, Calum’ll do it.)

“What’s wrong with it?” he says, already mentally ringing up the cost of the bricks and mortar he’s going to need. “Looked fine last time I was home.”

“I think the ivy must have loosened the cement,” his mum says. “I was watching TV the other night - I saw Michael on Top of the Pops, actually - and then-”

“Hang on,” Calum interrupts, because he only knows two Michaels, and one of them’s here in Cornwall with him. “Michael who?”

“Michael Clifford,” his mum says, like it’s obvious. “Anyway, then I heard a huge crash outside, and I told your dad to go and take a look, and he said the wall had caved in. Just a bit, you know, near the shed, but-” she’s still talking, something about foxes and de-weeding the garden, but Calum’s not listening.

Michael Clifford, she’d said, like it was simple and obvious. Like it stood to reason that she saw him on Top of the fucking Pops. Like it made sense that Calum’s childhood best friend, his fucking everything from the age of seven to seventeen, was on a British music show.

“Michael Clifford?” he repeats, in the middle of whatever his mum’s saying.

“Yes,” she says, sounding a little annoyed that Calum’s not listening to her impassioned speech about ivy. “Anyway, your dad said he’d need some help with it, and that it can wait until you’re back. But I want it done as soon as you are, because I don’t like the idea of Janet being able to see into our garden. Oh, that’s the chicken done. Call me in a few days, let me know how things are. Give the others my best. Love you.” She doesn’t even wait for a response, just hangs up, leaving Calum staring at the floor with a dial tone ringing in his ear and a name bouncing around in his mind.

It can’t be him. She must have been mistaken. What the fuck would Michael Clifford be doing on Top of the Pops? What the fuck would Michael Clifford even be doing in Britain? The last Calum had heard from him, about a year and a half after he’d left Sydney, Michael had been sure about becoming a policeman. He’d seemed so dead set on it, had signed himself up for the academy and everything. Calum might not have heard from him in almost half a decade, but he’s pretty sure nobody would stray so far from ‘policeman in Sydney’ to end up at ‘musician in Britain’. No, he thinks, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall with his arm, his mum must have been wrong. She hasn’t seen Michael since they’d moved from Sydney five years ago either, so it’s understandable that she’d mixed him up with someone else.

But, a little voice says, as he heads back into the studio and is greeted with the sight of Liam sprawled across the sofa, laughing at something Noel’s just said, both of them looking far too high-spirited for Gallaghers, she watched Michael grow up. She knew his face better than you ever did.

“‘Ere,” Liam says, interrupting the voice in Calum’s mind as it’s about to start reeling off a list of times Calum’s mum had spotted Michael in a crowd or down the road or in a photo before Calum had. “Noel says he’ll sprint around the house naked if Tony doesn’t fuck up his drums on this take. What d’you reckon?”

“I reckon it’s a good thing Tony can’t fucking play drums then, isn’t it?” Calum says, as Liam drops his feet to the floor to make room for Calum on the sofa. Liam snorts, and Noel scowls, but his eyes are still lit up with amusement.

“Well, I reckon you’re both cunts,” Noel tells them, and Calum grins, hoping they don’t see the way it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and reaches over for Liam’s beer to try and calm his churning stomach.

-------

Calum can’t sleep that night.

He’s usually so drunk that Liam’s gentle snoring doesn’t even register to him as he throws himself down on his bed, often fully-dressed, and falls right asleep, only waking up to fumble around for paracetamol in the middle of the night when his throbbing headache overpowers his exhaustion. He’s not used to lying there, stomach still unsettled, mind racing, staring blankly up at the ceiling, growing more and more frustrated by the noise of Liam sleeping.

Liam rolls over in his sleep, mutters something under his breath, and then his breathing evens out again, and Calum times the minutes passing by the way he breathes in, out, in, out. The moonlight’s getting brighter - or maybe it’s the sun rising, he’s not sure - and eventually, when Liam rolls over again and smacks his lips in his sleep, Calum’s had enough. He gets up, pads out of the room and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen for a drink.

He’s surprised, though, when he pushes the door open, to find Noel sat at the breakfast bar, a sheet of paper in front of him, still wearing the same clothes from the day before. He turns around at the noise of the door opening and mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a greeting to Calum, who grunts back at him as he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water.

“Can’t sleep?” Noel asks, and Calum raises his eyebrows over the glass of water he’s gulping down.

“No,” he says, setting the glass down on the counter. “You?” Noel shakes his head.

“‘S Bonehead’s fucking snoring,” he says, by way of an explanation, but Calum’s known Noel for five years now, and knows him better than that.

“And that’s why you’re still dressed?” Calum says shrewdly.

“Fuck off,” Noel mutters, raising a can of beer to his lips so he won’t have to say anything else. Calum sighs and shakes his head, but chooses not to push him on it, hopping up on the counter and swinging his legs.

“You writing?” he asks, and Noel looks down at the sheet of paper under his hand, and shrugs.

“Trying,” he says. Calum hums, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a while.

It helps, Calum finds, to be with Noel. He’s never been a man of many words - neither him nor Liam have ever been particularly gifted in that area - but Calum knows he’s always safe with Noel, thrives in the quiet comfort of Noel’s presence. Noel never asks, never pushes, but he’s always there if Calum ever needs anything, and even though they never speak about it, they both know the same is true vice versa.

(Calum can count on one hand the number of times he’s needed Noel, and can count on one finger the number of times Noel’s needed him.)

That’s not to say Noel doesn’t have his moments, though. He’s obstinate, brash, loud, arrogant, thinks his opinion is worth at least twelve times as much as anyone else’s, and takes himself far too seriously half the time. Calum’s had some of his most memorable arguments with Noel, edged out only slightly by how spectacular his arguments with Liam have been. Both of those, however, are eclipsed by how fucking nuclear the arguments between Noel and Liam are. The two of them bring out both the worst and the best in each other, grating at each other’s virtues and soothing each other’s flaws. They don’t know how to be happy unless they’re dancing along the line between love and hate, and Calum’s not sure it’d work any other way. He’s seen them in their brief, private moments of peace - Liam’s head on Noel’s chest, Noel’s arm wrapped around him, Liam murmuring something about a song or a memory that makes Noel snort, which in turn makes Liam’s lips curve up in a proud smile - but neither of their ships could sail anywhere without a restless sea to guide them. They need the fighting, need the bickering, even need the punches, to keep the wheels turning. A conversation’s not really begun if Noel and Liam haven’t called each other cunts at least twice, Calum thinks, and if Calum’s not been called upon by both of them to call the other a cunt within ten seconds of the inevitable argument breaking out.

It had been an argument like that a year or so ago that had led to them traipsing to the Boardwalk to watch that band play. Calum remembers the energy they had, raw and a little off-kilter but something there all the same, remembers the lyrical shouting of the singer and the way he’d bounced all over the stage, but not as much as he remembers the guitarist.

He’d looked so familiar, blonde hair and posture combining to make Calum’s heart ache like no music had ever quite managed to. It couldn’t have been him, though, he’d told himself. There was absolutely no way that Michael Clifford could have been playing in the fucking Boardwalk. Michael was in Sydney, back home, probably sunning himself on Bondi Beach and laughing at something Ashton was saying as Luke grinned at Ashton with wide blue eyes. Michael wasn’t in Manchester.

Except, a little voice in his head says, maybe he was. Maybe Calum’s mum hadn’t mistaken some guy in a band on Top of the Pops for Michael. Maybe it was Michael.

“D’you know that band we saw, a few years ago?” Calum says, out of the blue, before the thought to say the words has even crossed his mind. Noel looks up at him, thick brows furrowed.

“Seen a lot of fucking bands,” he says, a little slowly, like he’s trying to figure out what Calum’s actually asking. Calum half-considers dropping the subject entirely, but Noel’s been in the business far longer than he has, and if anyone’s going to know, it’s him.

“The one in the bar. After the City match.” Noel purses his lips, brows creasing further, before nodding thoughtfully.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah. They’re famous now, they are.”

“Oh,” Calum says, and swallows. That’s not what he expected - or, he finds, wanted - to hear.

“Yeah. Heard their first record. Or maybe it was their second, I don’t know. It wasn’t all that.”

“What’re they called, again?” Calum asks, hoping the question sounds innocent, but Noel’s eyes narrow a fraction.

“Blur,” he says.

“Blur,” Calum repeats, testing the word out, letting it sit on his tongue.

“Why?”

“No reason,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, like he’s weighing up whether or not to say something, but then seems to let it go, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking odd one, you are,” he says, which is the nicest thing he’s said to Calum in months.

“Cheers,” Calum says, with a grin. “Good-looking, too.”

“Don’t push it,” Noel warns, and Calum laughs, swinging his legs.

“What’re you writing, then?” he asks. Noel looks back down at the sheet of paper.

“Don’t know, really,” he says. “Just can’t seem to get it right.”

“Want me to take a look?” Calum offers.

“You?” Noel says sceptically. “You barely even play a fucking instrument.”

“Bass is a fucking instrument, you prick,” Calum says, only half-incensed.

“You’re up there with the fucking tambourine player,” Noel says, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fuck off,” Calum says, and Noel leans back in the chair, grinning. “You’re the one who bought him that fucking tambourine, anyway.”

“Little twat might as well do something worthwhile,” Noel says, like Liam’s voice isn’t one of the two indispensable elements they’ve got.

“At least I can play guitar,” Calum counters. Noel raises an eyebrow.

“Playing?” he says. “Well. If that’s what you want to call it.” Calum scowls and flips him off, and Noel just laughs and gives him a two-fingered salute in return.

“Go on, then,” he says, shoving the piece of paper to the edge of the breakfast bar. “Let’s see how much damage can be done to my genius.” Calum rolls his eyes but reaches over to pull the piece of paper towards him. There’s barely anything on there, just two lines: I can’t tell you the way I feel/Because the way I feel is oh so new to me. Fucking hell.

“I’m off to bed,” Noel says, like he can sense the questions bubbling under the surface of Calum’s frown, and pushes himself back from the breakfast bar. Calum looks up, catches the brief look of don’t you dare fucking ask me what that’s about that flits across Noel’s face, just the most fractional chink in his armour, and nods, hopping off the counter and tucking the sheet of paper into his pocket. He should probably try and get some sleep too, if only because he’s going to have to be in the best frame of mind possible to deal with how insufferable Noel’s going to be tomorrow on three hours’ sleep.

“I’m going to smother your brother if he’s not stopped snoring,” he tells Noel, following him out of the room. Noel snorts as he starts up the stairs, that strange mixture of derisive and fond that the Gallaghers manage so well.

“You’ve got more of a fucking chance of him waking up a bird than you do getting him to stop snoring,” he says. Calum sighs, all long-suffering, like this is news to him, even though he’s been sleeping in rooms with Liam since they were seventeen and sixteen respectively.

“Good thing the tambourine player’s expendable, then,” he says, and Noel laughs, soft and quiet in the stillness of the night.

“You’d be doing the world a fucking favour,” he says, but there’s a strong edge of pride and fondness that Noel only ever gets when talking about Liam, and Liam only ever gets when talking about Noel, and they never get when talking to each other. Calum thinks they’d probably both rather switch to being United fans than ever admit any semblance of love exists between the two of them, but it hums lowly beneath the surface, visible for anyone who bothers to look beyond the black eyes and hurled insults and weeks of refusing to even look at each other. No one can deny that the two of them fucking hate each other half the time, but without the push and pull of their relationship, without the back and forth and the give and take, the band couldn’t work. If the two of them ever lost that, if one of them ever pulled or pushed too hard, that’d be it. It should probably concern Calum more than it does that his entire career is poised on the knife’s edge that is Liam and Noel’s endless tug-of-war, but he's yet to lose the strangely settled feeling in his stomach every time Noel quits or fires Liam that tells him they'll be alright. You'll be alright. There are still better things to come.

“You’re just saying that because you want to sing,” Calum retorts.

“Nah,” Noel says with a grin, hand hovering over the door handle of his and Bonehead’s room. “I’m saying it because I want more royalties.” Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too.

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” he promises.

-------

As Calum had predicted, Noel’s a fucking nightmare the next day.

He snaps at everyone who dares come within a ten metre radius of him, and, when everyone stops going into the same room Noel’s in, he specifically goes out of his way to find Liam to start an argument that ends in Liam complaining that one of his teeth is loose.

(“It’s not fucking loose,” Bonehead says, and then decides to leave the room, presumably because he doesn’t want to deal with Liam’s moaning and whining. Calum can’t really blame him, and starts to shift surreptitiously towards the door himself.

“Since when are you a fucking dentist, you cunt?” Liam shouts after him, and Bonehead flips him off as he walks away. “You’re coming with me to the dentist, you are.” He’s rounded on Calum now, blocking the path to the door, and Calum sighs.

“If we get more beer on the way back,” he bargains, and Liam nods.)

That’s how Calum’s ended up in some posh dental surgery, spread out across a leather sofa and looking very incongruous in his oversized shirt and baggy jeans amongst the glass and the fancy-looking plants, waiting for Liam to come out of his appointment. It’s taking far longer than he’d expected - he’d thought it’d be a quick your tooth’s not fucking loose, you knob, you’ve definitely had worse, like everyone else had told him, but Liam’s been in there for a good fifteen minutes now, and Calum’s getting bored.

The receptionist keeps making eyes at him, and Calum can’t tell whether they’re I want to fuck you eyes or whether they’re you look like you’re going to try and rob this dental surgery eyes, so eventually he picks up the nearest magazine off the coffee table and flicks it open to a random page just for something to look at that isn’t her.

There’s a very pretty guy staring back at him when he looks down, blonde and blue-eyed and grinning inanely at the camera, and the caption reads BLUR: the cocky rebels you’re allowed to love.

Blur. That’s what Noel had called the band from that bar in Manchester last night. They’re famous now, they are, he’d said.

Calum barely even notices the way his heart speeds up as his eyes fly across the page, scanning the article for any mention of Michael before he really realises what he’s looking for. The author and the singer - Damon, apparently - keep referring to a Mike, an Australian Mike, which puts Calum right on edge, but Michael had never gone by Mike. He fucking hated it, corrected anyone who called him anything other than Michael, refused to respond to any teachers who tried to call him Mike, threw glowers at any classmates who did the same. He’d barely even let Calum call him Mikey in his most vulnerable moments, rubbing small circles on his back soothingly as he coaxed him to throw up all the cheap booze they’d nicked from the corner shop.

Calum’s fingers are slick with sweat as he’s turning the page and his eyes are starting to water from how little he’s blinking, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, whether he wants Mike to be Michael or not. When he reaches the bottom of the second page, however, Calum’s heart stops.

There’s a picture of the whole band. Damon’s standing second from the left, right arm holding his left bicep, head tilted upwards, looking lazy and effortlessly beautiful, like he fucking knows he’s worth looking at. It reminds Calum of Liam a little bit, the way he plays into the camera, the way he knows that with a small tilt of his chin and a slight lowering of his lashes he’ll have half the fucking nation on their knees for him. Maybe that’s just the way singers need to be, Calum thinks, eyes flitting to the ginger guy to Damon’s left, who looks a little uncomfortable, and then to the guy directly on Damon’s right; tall, broody-looking, dark hair swept across his face. To his right is a shorter dark-haired man, looking tense and on edge, and to his right is-

Michael Clifford.

There’s no mistaking him. He’s got the same blonde hair still sticking up at all sorts of angles, the same sleepy, sea green eyes, the same pretty lips slightly parted in a pout. He’s holding himself confidently, miles away from the slightly scrawny teenager Calum had left behind, staring into the lens of the camera like it’s a challenge. Come on, Calum. Tell yourself I ever stopped mattering to you, go on.

Calum doesn’t need to read the caption to know it’s Michael, knows it from the way he’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand, but does it anyway, one final, desperate grasp at a straw - from left to right: David Rowntree, Damon Albarn, Alex James, Graham Coxon, Michael Clifford.

Michael Clifford.

The words seem to sort of swim in front of Calum’s eyes, like they’re not really there, like his mind’s superimposed them on the article somehow, but the picture’s still there, clear as day. Michael, a hint of stubble on his jaw, face more angled and figure fuller and shoulders broader and God, he looks so fucking good that Calum’s stomach flips and drops and flips again.

“-fucking hell, Earth to fucking Cal,” Liam says, sounding sort of muffled, and Calum nearly drops the magazine in shock, yanked back into reality so suddenly and jarringly by the sound of his voice.

“What?” he says, looking up to see Liam with an irritated expression on his face, cradling one cheek in his hand.

“Let’s fucking go,” Liam says, already halfway to the door. Calum stares after him for a moment, mind trying to process Liam wants to leave over the tangled jumble of Michael Michael Michael currently winding its way through every cell in his brain, before he jumps up, magazine still in his hand.

“Sir,” the receptionist calls immediately, like she’s had her eye on him the whole time. “You can’t take the magazine with you.” Calum looks down at the magazine, and Liam turns around from the door, a slight tension in his posture that Calum recognises as the one he gets when he’s spoiling for a fucking fight. Christ, he’s not about to deck the fucking receptionist, is he?

“Or what?” Liam says, a little menacingly. “You gonna fucking stop him?”

“I just-”

“What the fuck do you want with the fucking magazine, eh? Fucking paid enough for the appointment, buy yourself another."

“C’mon,” Calum mutters, rolling the magazine up and hurrying over to Liam, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Let’s go.” Liam hesitates for a moment, like he’s torn between going to get beer or shouting at a receptionist, but eventually the alcohol seems to win in his mind, because he settles for throwing her one final glare and letting Calum guide him out of the door.

“What’d they say?” Calum asks as they walk out, his hand still on Liam’s back, because he knows Liam better than to trust he won’t just change his mind on a whim and go storming back in to give the receptionist a piece of his mind for not wanting Calum to take a fucking magazine.

“Don’t fucking know,” Liam mutters, pushing open the door to outside. Calum shivers a little when the cool late-February air hits him, and decides that Liam’s probably safe now, letting go of him to wrap his arms around himself as they head back to the car that’s been waiting for them. “Sounded like he said something about my flaps.” Calum snorts.

“Bit forward of him,” he says, and Liam grins.

“Why’d you take that fucking magazine, then, eh?” he says, rounding the car without looking into the road and flipping off the car that has to screech to a halt to avoid running him over.

“What?” Calum says, a touch shiftily. “Oh. Saw a good article in it. Wanted to finish reading it.” Liam throws him a look over the top of the car, a look that’s unnervingly shrewd, but then shakes his head and ducks into the car. Calum does the same, taking a moment to tuck the magazine into his pocket and feeling it weigh down one side of him, unbalancing him just slightly. It’s kind of apt, he thinks as he gets into the car. Michael had always made him feel a little unbalanced, too.

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” Liam announces, and Calum grins, trying not to think about the way the magazine feels pressed between him and the seat.

“Let’s get some fucking beer,” he agrees.

-------

Calum doesn’t look at the magazine again until a good week later.

He’s drunk, and maybe still a little high, which is the driving force behind the whole evening. They all are, because Liam had scored some great coke off some guy called Neville, which Calum had declared to be the funniest dealer name in all of history, leading Bonehead to admit that his weed dealer used to be called Barnaby. Noel had sided with Calum, claiming Neville was far worse than Barnaby, and, predictably, Liam had jumped straight in on Bonehead’s side, and after about two minutes of shouting Tony had mumbled something about not being drunk enough for this and slipped out of the room.

“Fucking useless,” Liam says derisively, as Tony walks out. “I should fire him.”

“I fired you two days ago,” Noel says, pointing at Liam with the card he’s using to cut up the coke. “You can’t be firing anyone.”

“It’s my fucking band,” Liam says, incensed, like it’s not actually Bonehead’s band that Liam had wheedled his way into.

“Who writes the fucking songs?” Noel counters. “You just play the fucking tambourine and look mardy.”

“Fucking greatest frontman in the world, I am,” Liam says indignantly.

“You’re too fucking high to find the front of the stage half the time,�� Noel says contemptuously.

“I know where the front of the fucking stage is,” Liam says, pointing at Noel with one hand and Calum with the other. “‘S between knobheads numbers one and two.” Noel rolls his eyes, too busy cutting lines to flip him off, so Calum does it on both of their behalfs, and Liam grins, swigging from his beer.

“Save us a fucking line,” Bonehead says to Noel, who’s just bent down to hoover up at least four of the thin white lines on the table.

“Get your fucking own,” Noel grumbles, like he’s the one who’d scored it, not Liam, but he lets Bonehead push him aside, slumping back against the sofa.

“Greedy cunt,” Bonehead mutters, and Noel swats him upside the head, handing him the card.

“We should have a fucking celebration,” Liam declares grandly, gesturing widely with his beer bottle.

“For what?” Noel says. “Album’s not even fucking finished yet.”

“Sounds fucking great, though,” Liam says.

“Well, you’ve clearly not heard it then, have you?” Calum says with a snort, accepting the card Bonehead holds out to him and leaning over towards the coke. There’s not much left, but Liam’ll fucking do one if he doesn’t leave any for him. “Fucking hell, Noel. You a fucking vacuum?” Noel just grins and shrugs at him, cocaine clearly starting to settle into his veins, and Calum rolls his eyes, cutting two thin lines for himself and leaving enough for the same for Liam.

“It’ll sound great once it’s mixed,” Liam insists, as Calum bends down.

“That’s what you said last time,” Bonehead points out.

“No I fucking didn’t,” Liam says, even though he’d literally spent about a week bouncing around saying it’ll sound fucking great when it’s mixed, just you fucking wait. It’ll be fucking biblical. Calum straightens, wincing slightly and pinching the end of his nose, and throws Liam a look.

“You fucking did,” he says. Liam scowls at him, and motions for the card. “Come over here. No way you’ll reach the coke from over there.” Liam rolls his eyes but complies, heaving himself up and then throwing himself down next to Calum, making a noise of outrage when he sees how little is left for him.

“What the fuck, Noel?” he demands, and Noel just cackles. Christ, he’s blitzed out of his fucking mind already.

“We should fucking celebrate,” Noel says, like he hadn’t shot down Liam saying it not two minutes ago.

“Celebrate what, you prick?” Calum says, wrinkling his nose as the bitter cocaine drips down his throat. Fucking grim. At least his mouth will be too numb to taste it soon.

“Fucking all of it,” Noel says. “Us. Recording an album. The fact that we’re going to be number fucking one.” Calum snorts, but he’s starting to feel a little giddy, a little warmer, and he leans back with a grin.

“Number fucking one,” he repeats, and Liam nods solemnly next to him.

“Fucking right,” he says, like it’s what they’re owed. Calum catches Bonehead’s eye and grins, knows he’s thinking exactly what Calum’s thinking - yeah, us two fucking deserve it for putting up with the both of you.

“Just wait ‘til we release Supersonic,” Calum says, shuffling up a little to rest his head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arm comes around him, warm and comforting, and he squeezes Calum absent-mindedly as he hums contentedly. Calum lets his eyes flutter shut, euphoric and a little overheated, grinning to himself as he lets himself fantasise. Number fucking one, he thinks to himself. Fucking imagine.

“Knock those Blur cunts off the top,” Noel says, and Calum’s eyes fly open.

“What?” he says.

“Their new song,” Noel says scornfully. “Fucking, what’s it? Girls who like boys who like girls who like boys, something like. Fucking shite.”

“New song?” Calum echoes, mind trying to work around the cocaine to process what he’s being told.

“Am I the only one who fucking listens to the radio?” Noel demands. “That’s our fucking competition, that is. We’ve got to knock them off the top spot.”

“Competition,” Calum says slowly. Competition. Michael Clifford is his competition.

And, fucking hell. Does Michael even know Calum’s his competition? Does Michael even know Calum’s in Oasis - does Michael even remember Calum? It’s been what, four fucking years now since the letters had petered out, since Calum had got too caught up in his new life of Liam and Noel and drugs and music and Michael had been too busy with his family and friends and the fucking police academy. Michael might not even recognise Calum, might not even remember his name.

(Something tells him, though, even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, that they could never forget each other. After all, it says, who forgets their first kiss? Who forgets their first fuck? Who, it says, a little too knowingly for Calum’s liking, forgets their first love?)

Liam seems to have sensed something’s up because he’s frowning, waving a hand in Calum’s face, and Calum blinks, shakes his head abruptly and sits bolt upright. He stopped loving Michael. He fucking did, no matter what the churning in his stomach might be telling him. That’s just the fucking booze.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Liam says, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t feel great,” Calum says, which isn’t entirely untrue. The high’s too high, and the alcohol’s making his stomach clench and contract, and he’s sweating a little too much, and his hands are clammy, and-

“Oh, fucking hell,” he says, a little faintly, and lurches to his feet, crashing into the bathroom next door and only just making it to the toilet bowl before he’s throwing up everything he’d ingested in the previous twenty-four hours. He’s glad he’s still high because it means he can’t quite taste the bile in his throat, can’t entirely feel the way his stomach’s heaving that he distantly registers is going to absolutely fucking kill tomorrow.

Halfway through his retching someone appears behind him, kneeling down beside him and rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. Calum feels fucking pathetic, slumped over the toilet bowl with tears leaking out of his eyes, someone making quiet, soothing sounds behind him, all because of fucking Michael Clifford.

(That thought makes him retch once again.)

“Waste of fucking coke, that is,” the person says mildly when he’s finished, leaning up and flushing for him, and it’s Liam. Of course it’s Liam. No one else would willingly spend their short high in a tiny, cramped bathroom watching Calum throw up. Noel would probably lock him in and turn off the water supply, maybe grab a camcorder for good measure.

Calum huffs out something that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds like more of a sob as he sits back, wipes his upper lip and forehead and rests his head against the cool tile wall. Liam sits down opposite him, legs pressed against Calum’s because they’re both too fucking big for the bathroom on their own let alone together, and blinks at him.

“Fuck brought that on?” he says, more curious than anything. Calum’s stomach lurches again, images of Michael smiling at him sleepily on a Saturday morning, of Michael with his head tipped back in detention, laughing at something Calum had said, and the picture of him in the magazine, so much older and yet so fucking familiar, flashing through his mind in rapid succession.

“Probably just overdid it,” he says weakly. Liam gives him a hard stare.

“A fucking baby would’ve had a hard time getting high on what you snorted,” he says.

“Baby wouldn’t’ve drunk five fucking beers beforehand, though,” Calum says, coughing slightly and wincing as he tastes the echo of acid at the back of his throat.

“Depends whose baby it is,” Liam says. “Pretty sure mine would.” Calum snorts, and lets his eyes flutter shut as he starts to come back to himself a little, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself as he realises how cold he is. Fuck, he’s all clammy. Gross.

Almost as though he can read Calum’s thoughts, Liam nudges Calum’s knee with his own.

“You’re fucking rank,” he says.

“Cheers,” Calum says, not opening his eyes.

“Take a fucking shower.” Calum pulls a face. He’s not in the fucking mood to shower.

“Tomorrow,” he says. It’s not like Liam’s never done the same.

“You’re fucking rank, ” Liam tells him again, like he’d not thrown up in the sink two nights ago and left it there overnight, but he puts his hand on Calum’s shin and pats it, and Calum offers him a weak smile.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says.

“What, go back in there and listen to our kid break his neck sucking his own cock? Don’t fucking think so,” Liam scoffs. “I’ll be fucking sober in five minutes, anyway, given the amount of coke you pricks left me.” Calum smiles again, a little less wobbly this time.

“Sober?” he says. “You drank twice as much as me.”

“Not all of us are fucking Aussies, though, are we?” Liam says, and Calum can hear the grin in his voice. “Might as well be a fucking southerner, you.” That makes Calum open his eyes a fraction, enough to glare at Liam.

“Piss off,” he says. “You and your fucking Irish blood. I’d drink anyone else under the fucking table.”

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Never met anyone who could outdrink me, let alone an Aussie.”

“You’ve never met any except me, you prick,” Calum says, and Liam grins.

“Well, most of you fuckers are smart enough to stay where it’s warm and sunny and the birds are fit, aren’t you?” he says. “Only the stupid ones end up here.” Calum scowls, and kicks at Liam’s leg half-heartedly.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Didn’t choose to move here, did I? Got dragged kicking and screaming.”

“But you’re still here,” Liam points out, and Calum finds he doesn’t have an answer to that. At least, he thinks, not one he’s willing to give Liam.

“You must miss it,” Liam says when Calum doesn’t answer, a little surprised, like the thought’s only just crossed his mind after five fucking years of friendship. Which, knowing Liam, is probably the case.

“Australia?” Liam hums his assent. “Dunno. I guess. I miss Vegemite.” He hesitates, before adding: “Mostly miss my mates, though.”

“Oh?” Liam says, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You still talk to them?” Calum shrugs, a little uncomfortably. After all, it had been him that had ignored the last letter Michael had sent him. He’s the one who hadn’t written back.

“No,” he says. “Phone calls are too expensive, and none of us are fucked writing letters.”

“Ah, well,” Liam says, stretching out on the tiles and sighing contentedly. “Just you fucking wait ‘til we’re number one. You’ll see them then. We’ll be touring Australia three times a year, and that.” Calum can’t help but snort.

“Three times a year?” he says. “There’s only five fucking cities worth playing in.” Liam grins.

“And you’d better have friends in all of them, mate,” he says. “Not bloody paying for hotels if I can help it.”

“My mates are all in Sydney,” Calum says, and there’s a little tug in his chest as he realises that actually, that might not be true anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to Ashton and Luke, either. If Michael can go from police cadet in Sydney to fucking famous musician in the UK then Ashton and Luke are probably, like, astronauts, or something. Maybe he should check with the ASA.

“What?” Liam says curiously, clearly seeing the expression on Calum’s face, and Calum hesitates.

He’s not sure whether he should tell Liam. What the fuck would he even say? My ex, sort of, is in the band Noel’s lining up as our competition? You know Blur? Yeah, I fucked one of the guitarists. Liam wouldn’t get it. Great, he’d say, eyes gleaming. Eeyar, you must have some good stories about him. You can embarrass him in the press. Or maybe, get in, mate. Infiltrate them, eh? Fucking good thought. Oi, that Damon’s alright, isn’t he? Maybe I’ll have it on with him. He wouldn’t understand the weight behind it, what Michael meant to Calum. Means to Calum. Fuck, he doesn’t know anymore.

“I think a mate of mine might have moved over here,” Calum says eventually, when Liam raises an expectant eyebrow. It feels fucking weird calling Michael a mate. The word doesn’t feel quite complete in his mouth, like maybe there should be a soul prefixing it.

“Oh aye?” Liam says, raising his other eyebrow too, like he knows what Calum might mean by ‘mate’. “Where’s he living?”

“I don’t know,” Calum admits. Liam hums, like he’s thinking it over.

“D’you want to know?” he says, in that strangely perceptive way he sometimes does. Calum shrugs, and hopes Liam doesn’t catch the tension in his shoulders.

“Maybe,” he says. “Dunno. Depends.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Liam doesn’t ask him to. Instead, his emotional capacity probably filled for the night, he claps his hand on Calum’s thigh.

“Want to see if we can get Noel to piss himself?” he says, eyes bright, and Calum can’t help but snort.

“‘Course I fucking do,” he says, getting to his feet. Liam braces himself on the sink as he pulls himself up, a little unsteady, and grins.

“Ten quid says he does,” he says, and Calum snorts. Noel had pissed himself once, three years ago, and Liam can’t fucking let go of it.

“You don’t fucking have ten quid,” he says, following Liam out of the room, still feeling a little light-headed and woozy, but no longer nauseous.

“Neither do you,” Liam counters, pushing open the door to the living room, and Calum has to concede there.

“How about the loser sucks the other’s dick, then?” he says, grinning, and Liam throws his head back as he laughs.

“You’re on,” he says over his shoulder, eyes twinkling.

“Who’s getting who to suck their dick?” Noel demands.

“You’re helping me get Calum to suck my dick,” Liam tells him, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Noel and resting his head on Noel’s chest. Almost instinctively, Noel’s arm comes around him, holding him close. Calum could almost be fooled into thinking they’re in some sort of a truce, that the booze and cocaine have broken down the barrier of hatred between them and left only the underlying love, until Liam reaches forwards, picks up a bottle of beer and holds it to Noel’s lips with a wicked grin.

“Drink up.”

taglist: @callmeboatboy @sadistmichael @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfukimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @makaylaa1113

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chapter two

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos slash #mate i seriously cant believe im posting this #what goes on in my head. or more accurately what doesnt go on in my head why dont i have a brain #i cannot believe i have 50k of this. 50k. i'm seriously going to hell

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liamoftheirish · 3 years

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Task 24 - OOC About Your Character

1. What do you want to get out of playing this character(s)?

To see him and his story develop, especially with relationships.

2. Describe your character(s) with three words.

Strong, fierce, caring.

3. What made you decide to write this muse?

Liam was my first muse in this game, and I always wanted to play someone that went against typical fantasies of wealth and power, instead someone simple-life oriented, quiet, reserved, cold who could develop into something more if unlocked.

4. If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

Nothing really, everything is carefully crafted to put Liam in the mindset he needs to be in; I already re-wrote his history when I left the game and came back, to flesh him out better.

5. If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

Don’t be afraid to open up and love again.

6. If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

He’s not very sentimental or materialistic, but if possible, maybe one more day with his wife that would let him get closure.

7. If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

His unwavering conviction: He has his beliefs, he has his loyalties, and those don’t stray, and it’s an admirable trait to have a strong conviction that you don’t let falter.

8. If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

His confidence in himself and his beliefs, to not care so much what others think.

9. Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

I would love Liam to be happy, I thought there was a chance at first, but that fell off; since then, it seems the options are there, but it’s on him to be more open to allow for it. Clearly the man has lived a violent, angry, and lonely life, one that he created himself because of his nature. He hasn’t allowed himself to love since his wife passed (by his hands in a blood rage), and he hasn’t allowed himself to love again. There’s been a few that have nearly unlocked that, but it’s not until he allows himself to admit it and forgive himself, that he’ll ever be truly happy.

10. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

I do, even if he doesn’t seem ‘angsty’, fact is stuff bothers him inwardly and he worries. He just doesn’t like to show weakness or too many sides to himself. He has been more open, and recently been questioning some of his actions. Hurting him the most would be him harming someone he cares deeply about.

11. What do you love about your muse?

His confidence, and again, his unwavering conviction. His simple-life mindset is also something I greatly appreciate.

12. What do you hate about your muse?

His coldness and closed off mindset.

13. What about your muse amuses you?

The fact that pop-culture references just go flying over his head, because he just does not care a thing about film or TV.

14. What about your muse makes you sad?

The fact that he feels so lonely despite his friends.

15. How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time?

He’ll be cold, distant, a bit stand offish. May be a bit intimidating, and maybe a bit too matter-of-fact in speaking, seems to lack any real filter. If you can accept that and work past it, he’s a good friend to have though.

16. Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

Probably, but it’d be hard for me to feel comfortable to call him a friend; I’d be pretty intimidated around him until I got to know him.

17. In what ways are you better than your muse? In what ways are they better than you?

I’m more open, empathetic, able to befriend people easier, but Liam has a confidence and conviction that I lack and wish I had. I wish I could care less about what people think of me, and be more confident in who and what I am.

18. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

We both care deeply about people we love, we’re both a bit quieter, and both of us aren’t the most social of butterflies; while Liam would prefer to sit at home wood working and working on cars, I’d more than happily sit at home and write or watch movies.

19. What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

Again, it’s his pure and unwavering confidence and conviction. I think that probably is the same with Liam as well, holding onto his identity is so invaluable to him, because if he loses that he’ll lose control and that’s when he’ll slip back into what he used to be. He struggles with the fact that he’s a violent, insatiable killer, but at the same time has compassion for life and doesn’t WANT to just attack and kill. And he has to make sure he accepts that aspect of him, of what he WANTS to be, so he can balance that against what he can be. His confidence and conviction helps maintain that balance.

20. Has your character(s) changed over the time that you have been playing them? How have they changed?

While Liam’s fundamentals, his rules to live by and moral convictions have mostly stayed the same. He has slowly opened up more, been more open to listen and talk with people; though, he doesn’t often talk about himself, he can let a bit of his past slip in here or there. He’s learned to not look at others as potential enemies or victims, but instead daring to call some of them friends. He’s able to laugh more, joke more, hopefully someone’s willing to push that to the next level someday.

About You!

1. What is your name?

Matt

2. What is your profession?

Beer and Wine Steward

3. What do you do to relax?

Listen to music, write, watch films, play video games.

4. What is your favorite treat (desert)?

Ice Cream on fresh-baked brownie/cookie with fudge dripped over it all.

5. Favorite movie -

I’m a massive film buff, so almost every movie is a favorite to me in some fashion. I adore Star Wars for several reasons, not all of them good. Maybe my favorite movie is probably a toss up between The Big Lebowski or No Country for Old Men, any film with incredible dialogue really. But then I also absolutely love beautiful BS like the MCU films and got shivers during the Portals scene in Endgame, so yea... no idea really.

6. Favorite book -

Currently: The Immortal Irishman - Timothy Egan (This needs to be made into a movie)

7. Favorite vacation spot -

My favorite vacation I ever went on is a toss up between trip with friends to Portland for a wedding, and Chicago for Star Wars Celebration, but I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland. I intend to try next year.

8. Favorite Disney movie -

The Lion King (I’m basic bitch like that, don’t at me.)

9. How did you first get into role playing?

I started playing back when I was around 13 or 14, back on AOL, playing a Jedi in a D&D like setting... because that’s what I knew. People were accepting of it, and it was some of the greatest experience. I love story telling.

10. What was your first platform? If it was something other than Tumblr, what made you get into Tumblr?

AOL. And why Tumblr? AOL moved to Greatest Journal, which died, and moved to Insane Journal, and I met a girl there who told me about Tumblr RP, which I said ‘that sounds stupid’... and now I’m here. So there’s that. I still really don’t know what I’m doing half the time on Tumblr, no idea how to discover games on this platform, lol.

11. What’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

100% it’s tenses. Past/present, I just write how I talk and it’s bad writing, I know. I will also simultaneously explain way too much in depth, and other times get ridiculously lazy writing in-depth.

12. Are there any languages besides English in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?

Just English. I’ve tried to learn other languages, but for whatever reason it’s very hard for me to wrap my mind around sentence structure and grammar rules in other languages.

13. Do you listen to music while your write?

Depends. If it’s just basic writing, an easy-going scene, probably not? I can get distracted from time to time; however, if I’m trying to get into a specific mood most definitely. Or if I feel a scene is heading somewhere that needs a good soundtrack? I’m a sucker for soundtracks in film, and music can really drive my mood (which is why it can be a distraction). And sometimes I write a scene specifically because I was hearing music that put me in that mood.

14. Are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?

Evening. Which is why changing positions at work will help me, when I start working more during the day. When I work at night it’s hard for me to get up and get going enough in the morning to write.

15. How does tiredness affect your writing?

Do you know how many times I write something exhausted, and when I come back to read it I absolutely hate it? It affecs me greatly...

16. What is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

Motivation, mood. I’m up and down in my moods, and sometimes I’m feeling down, exhausted, both, or sometimes I just feel inadequate in my writing and hate writing because I judge my abilities and suddenly don’t want to write.

17. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

None? It’s more my mood and how far I get behind that’s paralyzing, but when I’m not feeling down or depressed, I’m in a normal mood or a great mood, I can write 30 threads in a single sitting and not miss a beat. I’m sure others can attest to how far I can turn around a reply when I’m on my game. (probably annoyingly).

18. Is there anything character-wise or writing style-wise that you can’t stand?

It’s probably Godmodding, it takes away from the fun of writing WITH people if you’re trying to control their actions.

19. What kind of anonymous questions are your favorite?

Things that make me think about my character, or have my character think. Things that make me really develop my character’s mind.

20. What is your weakest point in writing? Angst, fluff, dialogue, etc.?

I love dialogue in film, so maybe it’s a bit ironic that writing dialogue can easily be an achilles heel for me. It’s hard for me to write fluff or small talk, because I’ve personally never been very good at small talk, and focusing that in my writing is difficult. Fluff is kind of the same way, because it’s all romantic and cheesy and really? I feel a bit embarrassed when writing it. Though that’s more or less for some characters more than others. Murad I can get a bit more fluffy and small talky because I can be outwardly weird with him, where as Liam... his quiet reserve and demeanor make those difficult.

#theinstitutetask #task 24

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elliepassmore · 4 years

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The Darkest Legacy Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: dystopia, underground conspiracies, rebellion, psychic powers, Zu I’ve been nervous both times I’ve read this book. The first time, like usual, I read the last page, or couple of pages, first, and so I already knew something was going down with Ruby before I even started. Having been in her head for the past several books, it was obviously jarring to see her in a rough position without also being in her head. This time, I already knew what I was getting into and just absolutely hate the idea of any of the Black Betty Crew getting hurt or emotionally hurting each other. However, the anxiety is quick to go once I start reading and it’s so easy to get wrapped up in Zu and Zu’s story that everything else becomes a part of it. I really love being in Zu’s head and seeing how she’s grown and coped with the changes in her world. She was one of my favorite characters in the main trilogy, so I was super happy she got her own book. If I thought the setting in BTN was a logical step forward from the end of ITA, then the setting here is a leap forward. Perhaps it’s cynical of me, but I could realistically see the setting of zone checkpoints and Defenders and hateful, screaming crowds occurring in America. Despite everything that the government has done to move forward, the mask of civility that the US has in TDL is fragile, so fragile it cracks pretty much as soon as Zu is charged. I liked the glimpses we saw of a world in recovery, seeing how Sam and Lucas and Mia are living was a nice bit of normalcy. Seeing how Zu and Chubs and Vida are working and in DC or touring was nice too. The kids going to school, the businesses opening back up, cities and roads being populated again. Seeing all of it back-to-back after finishing the main trilogy does give a sense of comfort, especially knowing from Zu how much effort went into it all. I’m sure those who had to see it progress over a long period of time feel the same way….hence the ability to believe things that might not 100% be true but that are 100% comforting. I think one of the worst things about this setting and the other dystopic!America settings and actions we’ve seen in this series is that I can see it all happening, some of it I see mirrored today or in the past (also, if you pay attention to Presidential Candidate Moore in this book you’ll notice he seems an awful lot like another presidential candidate we’ve seen, and since this book came out August 2018, I’m going to assume that’s purposeful). An even better setting is Haven, which, as the name suggests, is a haven for Psi kids. As Zu points out, it’s what East River was supposed to be. There’s a cabin that’s hard to access, there’s a cozy atmosphere, tree houses, and the kids who’re there have been pulled from bad situations or were on the run. I get the sense that they don’t have to pitch in the kind of work required from East River, though, and that the kids are allowed to be just that. Also missing is the psychopathic Orange who controlled East River, which is a relief. Haven is genuinely a sanctuary by Psi kids for Psi kids, and it’s designed to either be temporary or long-term. It’s definitely my favorite setting of the entire book and I would love it if Bracken came back to it in a novella or in another Zu-book. Finally, there’s the more unpleasant setting. As much as Zu wants to believe that the government is doing the right thing, and that the facilities being built for Psi are basically boarding schools, she also realizes that things aren’t entirely as they seem. Zu and some of the other characters end up getting captured and placed into a facility called Wheeler, for Wheeler, Texas. It’s basically a rehabilitation camp, but with less cleanliness and order. In it, any kids brought in who haven’t gotten the cure procedure forcibly undergo it. After that, or if they do have the procedure, then the kids are tossed outside into mud and tents and are surrounded by an electric fence with PSF-equivalents walking above them. It’s definitely a kick in the teeth, even once you realize that things are Not Right in America despite Zu’s and the government’s best attempts otherwise. As for Zu, she’s now 18, if I’ve done my math right, and is working for the government. As a Psi kid who was in a camp and as one of the higher-spectrum colors, the government sends her around to speak at events and discuss current policy and to preach patience, to Psi and adults alike. It’s at one of these events that the story kicks off when someone tries to kill her. This story is very much about using your voice and, more importantly, deciding how to use it as well as whether it’s best to work within a broken system to fix it or better to step outside the system to fix it. Previously, Zu has worked outside the system to change it and now she wants to work within it to fix what’s still broken. In both cases, she’s used her voice, which she previously kept silent so she had at least one thing in her life she could control. In the main trilogy, we got to see Zu develop into someone who chose to shed that silence and use her voice as a rallying cry and a hold to justice for the Psi. As the story continues, we get to see her develop her use of voice further as she also decides which ‘fix/break the system’ method she prefers. Zu’s story is one of continually choosing to use her voice for things she’s passionate about, and it’s a story of choosing to help and protect others. Two new main characters come into the story: Priyanka and Roman. Both are Psi (obviously), but they’re also a little…unique in ways that are definitely spoilery. Priyanka is such an energetic character it’s hard to be mistrustful toward her, even when she’s being a little rough. She has a huge heart, which we see come out when she can’t help but pick clothes out for Zu even when the two are still not wholly trusting one another. We also see it when it comes to the kids in Haven, with whom she seems particularly gentle and energetic with, as well as with another character, Lana, with whom she’s dating. Priyanka’s a fun character because she’s a lot like Vida, only with a greater love for dresses and flowers and less a love of cursing. Roman, on the other hand, is far more subdued. I’d say he’s somewhere between Liam and Lucas, though not nearly as naïve as the latter. More to the point, he’s self-sacrificial, can’t help but trusting people, and wants to help everyone. He also has a tendency to truly see Zu, even when she’s putting up walls. Some side characters of note are Lana, Roman’s sister and Priyanka’s girlfriend. Her role in this is a bit spoilery, but she’s definitely a divided soul. Priyanka and Roman clearly love her, but for most of the time we know her, she’s a complete and utter monster. Vicious, but less of a subtle tool than Clancy ever was. Max is another Psi in the same weird position Lana, Roman, and Priya are in, though he felt guilty enough about everything that’d happened that he turned himself over to the Wheeler facility. The kid’s obviously got a lot of guilt and not a lot of faith in the ability to make a difference as a single person, but crazy, seemingly impossible, world-changing, single-person-caused changes are the group’s specialty, so he naturally gets roped in anyway. Liam shows back up in this one, about two-thirds of the way through. He’s searching for Ruby and had to make a pit-stop at Sam, Lucas and Mia’s place—though we don’t see them personally—which is how Zu’s group even manages to catch up with him. His character does come across as older than before while still maintaining that Lee-ness that we all know and love from the main trilogy. Chubs and Vida are both that way too, older and more mature, but still inherently them. Chubs works with the Psi Council part of the government, so he’s more straitlaced than he was before, if that’s even possible, and he’s one of the ones who still thoroughly believes the government can be fixed from within. Vida, surprisingly, takes the same stance, though she works with the FBI and is still a gun-toting and curse-word storm. Vida now keeps her hair it’s natural black, which I was sad to learn. I absolutely loved Vida dying her hair wacky colors, but the reason she gives—wanting to be taken seriously and professionally, especially in a world that hates and fears Psi still—makes sense. Ruby also drops in, though not as much as the others, and we also get some page- and conversation-time with several of the Haven kids. Of all the things I love about this book, the one thing I do dislike is how the Black Betty Gang is all fractured in this book. Like, they aren’t just in different places, but they’re also not really talking to one another and it’s so awful. I have the version with the annotated chapter at the back, so I know why Bracken chose to do it, but it just sucks (though I do love the set-up Ruby and Liam have going on at Haven). I think it’s made even worse because Zu ends up feeling abandoned by everyone. One other thing I hate is the position Ruby’s in, like, Jesus give the girl a goddamn break (I mean, I know canon-wise she got 5 years, but that’s so not enough to make up for every other shitstorm in her life). I don’t know if there’s anything in the works, but I really want to see another book centered around Zu taking place after this one (maybe another trilogy? Pretty, pretty please?). I really like the idea Bracken inserted toward the end of the book, with Zu being the leader of the Psion Ring and the other Psi kids coming out of hiding to help her and the others while also having a focus on Haven and helping kids who maybe don’t want to fight or who do and don’t have good/homes to return to. There’s a lot of potential there and I think that concept would be really interesting to read about and see develop in the future.

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larriefails · 5 years

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I’d be interested to hear your thoughts about the discourse surrounding the 1d “hiatus”, as far as I know, harry was the only one to never give explicit dates that they would definitely reunite as a band, whereas the rest of them amped up the 2020 date and made assurances that it would happen. liam received a lot of backlash recently for not pertaining to that anymore and it seems like n & l have also pulled back from mentioning it? seems like a lot of larries & 1d stans are grasping at straws?

Well, personally I think Harry was making moves for his solo career when he met Jeff and Irving. I think as much as he might’ve loved the band, he knew there was a time limit on it and prepared himself for it

You have two options here. Either Harry and Jeff were actually close friends with nothing more as a goal, or Jeff approached Harry because he saw potential in him and Harry liked the idea

The thing with the Larry theories surrounding this is that they fail to take into account that Harry wasn’t private about any of it. Jeff was backstage at 1D shows, Harry posted him on IG, Anne posted pics with Shelli, Irving’s wife. IDK it was all very out in the open. A lot of Harries came to the conclusion he’d soon go solo back in 2014/2015 (without the information that the band would just break up), so it really escapes me how some people think Liam, Louis, and Niall could’ve been duped. Or the hiatus got extended. Or they didn’t really lie, it was just what they thought would happen at the time

Like, I mean, realistically speaking, is it possible Harry just happened to befriend Jeff Azoff, then propose the hiatus in late 2014 all the while not having the slightest inclination of going solo? Then decided to actually do it but only for a little while? Then realized it would be longer? Sure it’s not impossible but it’s quite unlikely

A while ago I read this x and was quite surprised at how well the timeline of events fit. Obviously I don’t think the first bit of “Sony wanted a solo artist so they offered Harry and then he declined so they offered Zayn” blah blah is what happened, that sounds a lot like a conspiracy theory, but the part about Harry and Zayn both wanting out of the band? Bringing it up at around the same time (maybe one of them snapped the other one)? That seems really likely. And at that point it didn’t really matter what Niall, Liam, and Louis wanted to do with the band because they weren’t gonna continue as a threesome with the two most popular members gone

So they lied, they pinky promised they’d be back soon, they put time limits on it. I think they didn’t really know how else to handle it tbh. Harry didn’t promise anything but he could get away with it because at the time he was already “no answer Harry” but the other three were put in an uncomfortable spot. They could’ve just said they didn’t have any solid plans of getting back together, but the fandom climate back then was so heated that I think they just read the room and went with that

It’s hard to get upset with them for lying in that context tbh, I think they probably regret it now, but I don’t know what would’ve happened if they’d been 100% honest. Probably a riot?

What grinds me is that it just plays off on MORE fan entitlement. If they wanted to explore their solo careers and if they weren’t feeling the band anymore, then they had to end it. I can’t fathom how anyone can feel like they have the right to push them together and cast their wishes and desires aside. It’s really something that makes me go full on wtf

We know, from Louis’ own words, that he wanted to continue. And that’s really unfortunate, but it’s like breaking up a relationship. If one of the parts doesn’t want it, then the relationship is over, and if the other part is heartbroken, then it’s sad, but ultimately there’s nothing you really can do?

1D stans will continue to believe the band will get back together until one of them says that’s never gonna happen. And that will probably never happen. It’s just convenient for all of them to have the band as a fallback (and I genuinely think they enjoyed most of their time in the band!) Now they have their eyes set on 2020 because that’s something Liam mentioned, but once 2020 comes and goes and nothing happens, unless one of them puts another deadline, then people are just gonna wish they get back together “soon” and that’ll be that. And even then, the fans that wish the band would reunite are less and less each passing date, because they either move on to support one or more of their solo careers, or they move on to support an entirely new artist (BTS and Shawn Mendes more often than not)

Larries are a completely different story because they’re conspiracy theorists and their 2020 belief is just the latest prediction they set as to when “the contract” will end and they’ll be “free”, so once that date comes and goes... they’ll find another date. It doesn’t hinder on what any of them actually say or do, they make their own rules and more often than not they don’t follow any sort of actual logic. Some Larries might want the band back because they’re fans, but a lot of them just want it because it means Larry (because they don’t get SHIT otherwise)

Why are my answers so long

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indescribablechoices · 6 years

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Racing Ahead - Part Two of Enchanting (TRR)

Enchanting follows the story of Liam and Alicia (MC)’s daughter Lyra as she enters the social season in search of a husband. Familiar faces, sibling shenanigans and naturally; romance, all await along the way.

Read Part One here

Tag List - @brightpinkpeppercorn @iknewyoudcome @mitalijoshi@mynameiskaylabella (just drop me a reply or a message if you would like to be tagged.

Summary - The Rys family head to the Derby and the lawn picnic where the press, doubts, and revelations await.

Rating - General; no shenanigans in this part but there will be more mature themes in later chapters.

Word count - 5002 (dialogue heavy chapter, but lots of character exploration and sibling banter)

The Cast - This link takes you to a little summary on the new characters involved in the series. This link will take you to a summary on what happened to the original gang in my canon. It will be updated as it goes on.

“Are you excited for the Derby?”

Lyra snapped out of her thoughts of the previous evening, realising that she had been staring out of the window of the limo. She turned to her head to see her sister Leona looking at her with a wide and expectant gaze.

“Yes,” Lyra nodded with a smile, “I’ve always loved the Derby.”

“But it’s different this year,” Leona pointed out, “This year it’s more than just a horse race.”

“I don’t want it to feel different,” Lyra admitted, “I just want to sit in our box and enjoy the race with my family.”

“And then swan around the after party to meet our future King,” Elias chimed in from the other seat where he’d been sat beside Drake.

Lyra shot him a look, “I do not ‘swan about’.”

“You were definitely swanning something when you snuck back into the palace last night,” he smirked.

Leona gasped playfully, “You snuck out? Dad said you were tired and went back to your room.”

“She fell in a fountain,” Drake said quietly, not even glancing up from the newspaper he was reading.

“Drake!” Lyra stared at him, “How did you find out about that?”

“I slipped out of the party myself to take a breather from the sheer amount of people. I heard Bastien calling out for you. I wanted to check you were okay so I followed the sound of voices and saw you floundering out of the fountain with Bartie,” he told her.

Elias and Leona whipped their heads around to look at their eldest sister, “Bartie Beaumont?!” they asked in unison.

Lyra put her face in her hands, letting out a groan, “I hate you all.”

“So that’s why you wanted me to create a distraction,” Elias realised, “So you could play hooky with Bartie in the garden?”

“Please stop talking.”

“Tell me everything,” Leona insisted.

“We talked, we danced, we kissed, what more do you want to know?” Lyra moved her hands to glare at her sister.

“You kissed?!” Leona squealed with excitement, “How romantic! What was it like? Was he gentle? No, he’s known you long enough to know that you aren’t a porcelain doll. I bet he was at least a little rough.”

“I really don’t want to hear this,” Drake sighed.

“And I don’t want to talk about it,” Lyra agreed, “So let’s just change the subject, please?”

A silence fell over the limo for a few moments as Lyra turned her head back to the window, happy to let the rest of the journey go by in silence.

“So did you have sex in the fountain?” Leona frowned.

“LEONA!” Lyra and Drake both barked at her in frustration.

The divider between the front and back seats slid aside and Bastien glanced through, “Everything all okay back here? I thought I heard shouting.”

“Everything is fine, Bastien, thank you,” Lyra folded her arms across her chest.

“Bastien, you were there last night,” Elias pointed out, “Settle something for us. How scandalous was the scene you stumbled upon in the fountain?”

Bastien quirked an eyebrow, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Your Highness.” He gave a nod to Lyra who flashed him an appreciative smile, before sliding the divider shut again.

She and Bastien had always been close, ever since she was a child. She considered him one of the family, despite his professional façade, and he had doted on her as the most well behaved of the Rys children. Even Drake, for his quiet nature had a tendency to break the rules in order to get out of going to events, sneaking off to hide somewhere quieter, only to have Bastien drag him back so that he was safe. After everything that happened during their parents engagement and the kidnapping of their mother on their wedding day, security was tight around the royal family.

She would never forget how angry her father had gotten with her when she had run off and hidden from him for too long in the gardens at the palace when she was five. When she heard him calling her name, a desperate edge to his voice that she had never heard, she had come out of her hiding place and run to him. He had put his arms on her shoulders, demanding to know where she had gone, that this wasn’t a game and that she could have been in real danger. Her father had never raised his voice at her before, and the moment he saw the fear in her eyes he had pulled her into his arms and held her close against his chest, apologising a thousand times over for getting angry with her.

He took her to the centre of the maze and sat on the swing with her perched on his lap and he told her about the terrible man that had hurt her mom and took her away from her wedding day, about how scared he had been that he would lose her forever. He kissed the top of her blonde curls as he told her that he had the same fear for her and her siblings, that people could try to hurt them because of who they were. But he promised that he would never let anything happen to any of them; that he would keep them safe.

That day stuck with her every time she huffed over the security protocols that came with just leaving the palace, every time one of her siblings complained about Bastien or any of the other guards catching them busting out. She remembered the genuine fear in her father’s face and she knew why they had to do all of this. He had lost both of his parents to two separate assassination attempts, his life had been threatened more times than he could count, his best friend had been shot, he nearly lost the love of his life to Anton’s plot; it was no wonder they were constantly watched and guarded. She couldn’t bare to think what it would do to him if anything happened to any of them.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we’re here,” Elias nudged her awake from where she had dozed off in her seat.

She straightened herself up, noticing the rows of people and press outside the window that had come out to see the royal family and the potential suitors. She adjusted the hat atop her head as the limo rolled to a stop and her siblings readied themselves. They always went in age order; youngest first. Perhaps that was why Elias had been such a show off from a young age. He loved being the first seen, eagerly clambering out of the car and waving to the crowds that cheered for him, posing for the cameras. He would never admit to it, but she knew he kept a scrapbook in his room with all of the news clippings in it of himself. But he was a Crown Prince of Cordonia. It was a big scrapbook.

Leona slid out next, throwing an arm around Eli, blowing a kiss to the cameras. Lyra rolled her eyes, humming with laughter. For all of her bubbly personality, Leona was the biggest renowned flirt of the Cordonian court. And unlike many others; she had never learned the art of subtlety.

Drake shot Lyra a knowing look over his glasses as he climbed out next, sharing his loving concern for their younger siblings without having to say anything. Although she loved both Leona and Eli, she was the closest with Drake. He was the quietest of the Rys children, shying away from crowds and attention, preferring to stick to his music. Ever since they were young, Drake had been somewhat of a musical genius, learning the piano and the violin, taking comfort in the creativity of composition, only sharing his work with Lyra until he was sure it was perfect enough to show the rest of his family. He gave a brief wave to the crowds, coupled with a warm smile.

She let out a soft breath then exited the limo herself, smoothing down the skirt of her dress as she did, waving gracefully to the people, just as she had been taught.

“Princess Lyra!” one of the reporters called to her, “Johnathon Storm, Cordonia Daily, how was the first night of the social season?”

“It was a wonderful event,” she smiled, “My family and I have always loved the masquerade and it is always a joy to open our home to friends; new and old.”

“Has anyone caught your eye so far? Is there a special someone you hope to see today?”

“I am looking forward to seeing all of my suitors this afternoon at the lawn picnic, I’m excited to get to know them all,” she said, “Though I cannot pick out one in particular yet as it is still early in the season, I can tell you that they are all charming young men and my decision will be a hard one.”

“Thank you,” the reported nodded, “That will make for a lovely soundbite.”

She went to turn away to follow her siblings towards their box to make way for their parents to make their entrance, but another reporter quickly stepped in the way. She was young, likely only a few years older than Lyra, her green eyes wide with determination to speak to the Princess.

“Your Highness,” she said, “Charity Jones, Slice of Cordonia.”

“I apologise, I’m not familiar with your publication,” Lyra told her.

“It’s quite new. It’s an online newsfeed dedicated to the insider news on the biggest events in Cordonia. Which of course, at the moment, is the social season.”

“That sounds wonderful, now if you’ll excuse me-”

“Rumours report that Bartie Beaumont was spotted at the palace last night, despite only his younger brother Gareth being introduced at the beginning of the ball. It all feels rather odd. Why the secrecy around his being there? Is there more to this story? Care to comment, Your Highness?”

Lyra shot her a quick look before she took a deep breath, offering her a polite smile, “Bartie Beaumont was at the ball last night, and no, he was not announced with his parents as he arrived later, having been delayed. Though you can ask him yourself later as he will be one of the suitors this year. I’m not sure what secrecy you are trying to uncover, but believe me there is none. Now, if you really will excuse me, I have a race to watch.” Charity watched her for a moment before Lyra turned on her heel slightly, “A word of advice, Miss Jones; don’t put too much stock in gossip. It doesn’t make for a good story.”

***

“Holy shit, Lyra,” Eli laughed as the four of them sat in the royal box a few minutes later, “I can’t believe you said that.”

She let out a groan, taking a sip of her champagne, “It just irks me that some upstart new reporter thinks she can hop in on the second day of the season and cause drama where there is none. She’s just trying to stir shit up.”

“She must have you riled to swear,” Drake commented, picking up the paper that contained the Derby runners.

“I am riled,” Lyra said, “She’ll probably type out some horseshit report about some Beaumont family conspiracy and start some rumour that’ll go viral.”

“Are you riled because she was rude or because she brought Bartie into it?” Leona asked.

“I…” Lyra trailed off, sticking her tongue out at her sister, “Shut up.”

“Also, speaking of horseshit, they’re bringing the horses out to the gate,” Drake nodded to the track where the horses and riders had been circling for a while now.

The tannoy system kicked in and the announcer began reading out the names of the horses and their riders, earning various cheers and calls from the crowds. Lyra’s eyes moved from the starting gate to the tent where the suitors would be watching the race. She knew Bartie would be in there.

I’ll see you at the Derby.

His final words to her echoed in her ears as her heart skipped a beat. She had been up all night going over everything he had said to her, mostly concerning his brief talk of feelings. What had he meant by that? Had Bertrand forced him to come here against his will? But if was that resistant; why did he kiss her?

“And next up to the gate we have crowd favourite Marabelle’s Legacy, trained and ridden by the Nevrakis-Walker siblings Jackson and Natalia. The pair have been taking the horse world by storm, racing to the top of every competition they have taken on. Let’s see if they can keep their winning streak up and put on a good show for the Derby.”

Elias whooped, “Yeah! Go Jack and Nat!”

“I don’t know why they introduce them as siblings,” Drake said, eyes on the racing paper, “They’re half-siblings.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Leona pointed out, then joined in cheering with her twin, “Kick ass you guys!”

Lyra rolled her eyes then clapped, laughing softly to herself. Jack and Natalia had been a constant part of their childhood having been the children of her godfather Drake. Her Uncle Drake and Aunt Olivia had been together for a time when she was very young. They never married, but they did have Natalia together. They tried to make it work for a while, but they separated under good terms, both raising their daughter. Drake took on a position as Chief of Security, wanting to set up a life to provide for his daughter, which is where he met his wife, and Jack’s mother, Fiona; a fellow security guard in the palace. She was killed in action when Jack was three.

Lyra raised the binoculars to her eyes, focusing in on where Jack, ever the spitting image of his dad, was leading the dark form of Marabelle’s Legacy into the starting stall, the horse’s black coat causing the Nevrakis-red colour of her tack to stand out. Natalia was already seated in the saddle, wearing matching red silks, her ginger hair tied back out of her way.

Lyra knew her Aunt Olivia would be watching her daughter from the other royal box with the King and Queen along with the rest of their friends; Drake, Maxwell, Hana, Kiara, Penelope, Bertrand and Savannah. They were all inseparable, no matter the jaunts that were thrown around. They had all been through enough together over the years that theirs was a bond that couldn’t be broken. Lyra adored their friendship, hoping that she would have a group like that that would be there no matter what.

A cheer went up in the crowd as the gates opened and the race began. For the next few minutes, Lyra and her siblings let all decorum go; screaming and shouting, cheering for Marabelle’s Legacy, all of them, even Drake, leaping out of their chairs with cries of excitement as Natalia and her horse stole the victory. They could even hear the cheers from the box next door, all laughing when they realised that they weren’t the only ones allowing some real enjoyment.

They left the box a short while later, Lyra being expected to pose for pictures with the winning horse and jockey. She approached the Winner’s Enclosure and grinned when she saw Natalia, helmet shed as she patted Legacy’s neck that was now draped in a wreath of roses.

“Your Highness,” Natalia greeted her with a warm smile before Lyra threw her arms around her in a hug.

“Congratulations on today,” Lyra told her, “You were amazing out there.”

“I only do part of the work,” Natalia said, “I couldn’t have done it without Legacy here.”

Legacy let out a gentle knicker, sniffing at Natalia’s clothes in search of a treat.

“Here,” Lyra reached into her clutch bag, pulling out a few of the mints she knew Legacy liked, “I thing you’ve earned these.” She held them in the flat of her hand and Legacy eagerly nibbled them up. The press took several photos of the warming moment between their princess and the Derby winner before the official photographs were taken.

She and Natalia parted, promising to have a proper chat at the lawn party. Lyra, along with the other Rys children soon piled back into the limo, headed for said party, Eli and Leona eagerly chatting about the range of cakes that Leona had baked and organised to serve to the guests. Drake slid into the seat beside his older sister, glancing at her.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I… It still doesn’t feel quite real that this is it. These next few weeks will define my future and the future of Cordonia. Not only am I picking a husband, but I’m choosing a leader to rule beside me. It’s all quite daunting,” she admitted, slumping back into her seat.

“Of the four of us, you are the one with the best judgement to make a decision like this,” he said, “I know you, Lyra, you will find a way to balance your happiness with the needs of our country. Think about Dad. He knew from the beginning that he was making the perfect choice for him and Cordonia.”

“But what if I can’t find that?” she asked, “What if the person I care about isn’t the person that should be King at my side?”

“So you’re worried that Bartie isn’t a fitting choice for the crown?”

“This has nothing to do with Bartie,” she said quickly, but he caught the flush in her cheeks.

“You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all day,” he pointed out, “You’ve been staring wistfully out of every window you pass, and I saw you trying to steal a glance at him at the Derby. I’ve never seen you like this about a guy before.”

She wound one of her blonde curls around her finger, “I’ve never thought about Bartie this way. He was my friend. I never considered that he would be here as a suitor.”

“Because he doesn’t seem the type to be married by his mid-twenties?” he asked.

It was no secret that Bartie Beaumont was considered a heartthrob and a heartbreaker. Any time she had seen him over the past few years, he always had a girl on his arm, some minor noble he had seduced with his winning charms. The tabloids loved him, loved showing off his supposed exploits, trying to predict who would be the next poor girl to fall for his wiles.

“He was different than what the rumours make him out to be,” she sighed, “Yes, he was charming and cheeky, but he was sweet and lovely and he was a complete gentleman.”

“He would have to be if he was trying to win the heart of the princess,” Drake said.

She shot him a look, “You think he’s getting close to me because he wants to be King?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “If he is still the same Bartie that we were friends with as kids, I think he might be genuine, but time changes people. And as much as this is a competition for a husband, it is also a game with your heart and hand as the prize, and no one is going to fight fair.”

She nodded slightly, “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

“Look, I really do hope that he is everything you want him to be,” he said, “I want you to be happy with whoever you choose. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She offered him a smile, “Thank you.”

He wrapped an arm around her in quick hug, “It’ll work out. And whatever happens, you’ve always got me.”

She ruffled his hair, earning a groan of annoyance from her brother as he desperately tried to comb it back down with his fingers.

“You ready to eat your weight in eighteen different types of cake?” she asked, giving a subtle nod over to their younger siblings who were still rabbiting on about the food selection.

“If you need me, I’ll be edging my way away from the proceedings… with a pocketful of cake,” he flashed her a rare grin.

They arrived at the lawn picnic to less fanfare than the Derby as this was a private event. There will still photographers and reporters, and Lyra even spotted Charity Jones trying to eek her way to the front, but they managed to enter without any problems. The garden was decorated beautifully as it was every year for the picnic, countless tables laden with afternoon tea, various games set up across the lawn, including her Grandmother Regina’s favourite; croquet. She remembered her grandmother teaching her and her siblings when they were small, telling them how she had taught their father in the same way. Even though she wasn’t their biological grandmother, Regina loved them as though she was and always spoiled them all rotten as any grandmother would. She would be arriving later at the party, the elderly Former-Queen refusing to miss her favourite event of the social season, especially during so important a year.

As more and more people arrived from the Derby, the band began to play a composition that Drake had written himself for the occasion, and Lyra watched her brother keeping an eye from the sidelines, a proud smile on his face. He rarely took credit if he allowed the musicians to use his pieces, avoiding the attention as much as possible.

Just as they had the night before, suitors began to line up to greet her, and whilst she had wanted her parents there as well as it was customary for the suitors to meet the Queen officially at the picnic, she didn’t want to keep anyone waiting for the royal motorcade. One by one they stepped up to her, offered her a few words of greeting, a comment about the Derby and the fine picnic accompanied by a smile and followed by a swift but polite kiss on the hand and they would move on. The ones who knew her greeted her a little less formally and when Percy; Maxwell and Penelope’s son came up to her she gave him a quick but warm hug.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much last night,” he told her, “Mum’s recently got some new poodles and they were quite excited by the palace so I was rather distracted.”

“Well, that is the best excuse I’ve heard all day,” she beamed, “What has she named these new ones?”

“She’s run out of Knights of the Round table so now she’s naming them after iconic couples. They were nearly Liam and Alicia but that seemed in poor taste if they were to go haring off at the picnic and required calling back,” he laughed, earning a genuine laugh from the princess, “And they’re both female so we’ve called them Ellen and Portia…” he nervously ran a hand through his dark curls, “Listen, this isn’t going to be weird because we know each other, right? Suddenly competing to be the man you marry despite being friends for years?”

“It’s a little weird,” she admitted, but offered him a smile, “But I would rather have a hundred friends here than complete strangers.”

He nodded in agreement, “Quite right. I should let you get back to the rest of your guests.”

“It was good to see you, Percy,” she told him as they hugged again and he stepped away. He was quickly replaced by the tall blonde figure of Edward.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, making no move to take her hand.

“Lord Edward,” she gave him a nod, “Are you enjoying the picnic so far?”

“It is lovely,” he said with the same disingenuity as last night, “Which reminds me I must pay your sister a compliment for the bakery selection. She is quite the accomplished chef.”

“Speaking of my siblings, I require a favour of you.”

His eyebrows raised a little, “I… I will do what I can.”

“This is going to sound awfully forward of me, but could I have your number?”

His eyes widened, “Oh… I…”

“It’s not for me,” she said quickly, “Well, at least not in that sense unless you would like me to have your number. It’s… It’s a favour I owe my brother, Eli. It’s a long story that I won’t bore you with now, but I… God this sounds so stupid. Please forgive me and forget what I said, this is horribly awkward I…”

“No, it’s quite alright,” he assured her, catching her eye, “Elias, he asked for my number? Did he say why?”

“All he told me was that he thinks you’re cute.”

His hard-lined mouth curved into a genuine smile, “I didn’t realise he would be… susceptible.”

Lyra glanced across the lawn to where Elias was lounging back in one of the chairs, large fruit cocktail that he had procured from somewhere at the tea party in one hand, the other adjusting the low neckline of the floral shirt he was wearing beneath his lilac suit before opening his phone to take his daily Pictagram selfie.

“I don’t like to be stereotypical, but you have met my brother, right?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“I suppose I didn’t want to assume…” he said following her gaze to Elias before snapping back to her, “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, this isn’t appropriate.”

She offered him a smile, “It’s okay. Stop wasting your time talking to me. Go.”

“Your Highness-”

“That’s an order,” she laughed, “Get over there.”

He bobbed his head once then zipped away from her, headed over to Elias before striking up a conversation with him.

“What was all that about?”

Lyra glanced up to see Bartie in front of her, dressed neatly in a pale grey suit, hair a little messier than it had been last night but still an attempt had been made to tame it. She couldn’t control the smile on her face when she saw him, heart leaping in her chest as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“This is much nicer now that I can see your face,” she said.

“You like to look at my face?” he grinned.

“So you’re a tease even without the mask on,” she observed.

“What can I say? It’s my natural charm,” he said before his expression turned more serious, his tone lowered, “About last night…”

“Yes?”

“I… I hope it wasn’t too much. It was quite a bold way to reintroduce myself after all of this time, but I really did enjoy myself. And not just the kissing, which was amazing, but I’ve missed you, Sunshine, it meant a lot to me to spend time with you again,” he said quietly.

Her chest fluttered, “I feel the same way.”

“Do you have some time to step away?” he asked.

“I think I could for a short while before the croquet starts, our parents haven’t arrived yet,” she nodded, “Meet me by the fountain?”

He raised her hand to his mouth again, grey eyes flashing, “I’ll see you there in ten minutes.”

She raced through the remainder of the young men waiting to greet her and she flashed a quick smile of greeting at Jackson as he came up to talk to her before she began making her way across the lawn to where she had seen Bartie disappear a few minutes beforehand.

She saw Bastien approaching her, but as she opened her mouth to ask him to make a subtle excuse for her to take a break, he spoke first.

“Your Highness, there is a situation that requires your attention,” Bastien said coolly.

“Please make an excuse for me, I need to-” she began to walk away.

“It’s your father, Your Highness.”

She stopped dead and looked around at him, “What’s happened?”

“The motorcade containing your parents and the rest of their group was supposed to have arrived by now, but I received word from Drake that it’s been diverted to Valtoria.”

She frowned, “Why on earth have they gone to my mother’s estate?”

“They needed a place of security that wasn’t here. It seems on the drive here, the King’s condition took a turn for the worse. He coughed up a significant amount of blood before passing out. They’ve set him up in the medical suite your mother had installed there and a doctor has stabilised him.”

Tears filled her eyes, “But… He’s been doing so well these past few months. The doctors said he was getting better.”

“I know,” he gave a nod, “I’m sorry to bring you news like this on so lovely a day. But people are starting to notice that they haven’t arrived.”

“Right,” she wrung her hands together to try and calm herself, “I need the car called, I need to get to Valtoria. Now.”

“Your Highness, I have instructions from the Queen that you are to remain here. Someone has to calm suspicions.”

“I’m not staying here, sipping tea and eating cake whilst my father is dying,” she snapped at him, voice low, “Come up with a story. Any story; security issue, bad food, gas leak, I don’t care. I am going to Valtoria if I have to drive myself. Now are you going to help me or are we going to make a scene in front of the nobility?”

He let out a sigh, “I told the Queen this would happen. Find your brothers and sister, I’ll have the car pick you up from behind the stables so no one sees you leave. I’ll find a way to shut down the party.”

“Thank you, Bastien,” she said, reaching up and pressing a kiss to the old guard’s cheek before rushing off to find her siblings.

They had to get to Valtoria.

#long post #the royal romance #trr #liam x mc #king liam x mc #writing #enchanting

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1dimagineclub · 6 years

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Liam Imagine

** IMAGINE REQUEST: Hi love your account!!! I was wondering if u could make a one shot with Liam. Um… I guess the scenario could be in which Liam meets your family for the first time…your whole family.**

“Family Matters“

When Liam Payne looks at you with those eyes so big and hopeful, it’s hard to turn down anything he’s asking you.

He’d figured out that it was easy to get you to say yes to a lot of things if he just looked at you like that—calling in sick to work, having a movie night at home instead of going out (even though you’d had your outfit planned since two days ago), and, probably your least favorite, letting him decide where to eat for dinner. Again.

That isn’t to say you don’t have your own little ways of getting him to agree to things; a bat of your eyelashes, a pout of your lips, or, when desperate times call for desperate measures, a low cut top that reveals just enough skin when you bend over to innocently pick up the remote that you’d “accidently” dropped in front of him. He was onto you and your little tricks.

That was just how your relationship had always been. So when Liam had looked up from his phone at you last week with a beaming smile and those damn eyes, you’d braced yourself for the worst.

Before you even let him talk, you sighed, mumbling out a quick, “What do you want now?”

He had laughed and rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing, nothing. I just got a text from your mum.”

You remember your heart had stopped beating. What the hell did that mean? Liam and your mom got on like best friends from the minute he’d first met her. It was a relief at first, but undeniably annoying when he came over because they would just talk and talk and talk for what felt like hours. One thing you’d always admired about Liam, however, was the way he was able to absolutely destroy you in your bedroom to the point where your legs were still shaking and you struggled to walk, and then five minutes later you’d find him exchanging health food recipes with your mother in the kitchen, with her none the wiser about what had just transpired. He was irritatingly charming with everyone he encountered, of that much you were very sure. Still, you couldn’t get over the fact that he and your mom were actually… friends? Did they text often?

He must’ve noticed the look on your face because he chuckled again. You asked, “What did she have to say?”

“She invited me to your “family reunion” next Friday. Thinks its time I meet everyone.”

You’d panicked. Immediately you let out a loud string of “no’s” and shook your head. He only continued to laugh, waiting until you were done to ask why you were so against it. “You ashamed of me or sumfin?”

“No,” you’d replied back, because that was in fact the opposite of what you were. You weren’t ashamed of anyone in this equation actually. It was just that your family was so big and crazy and… loud. They were loud as hell when you were all together, and what if that turned Liam off to the idea of combining your families one day?

Although, you had known that this day would come. If you ever wanted to marry Liam, you knew he was going to have to meet your family eventually. However, you’d just hoped it would be much further down the line at like, the wedding. Or even after the wedding. Or maybe never.

You loved Liam. You loved your family. You’d just never really imagined them altogether in one room.

Of course he kept pushing the issue, asking why you didn’t want him there. So when you reluctantly responded and told him the truth—that you were scared he would hate them—he only smiled and pulled you into his chest.

“M’not gonna hate ‘em. I could never. They made you.” You could see the cogs turning in his head at that last sentence. “Well… I mean, they didn’t make you. Your mum and dad did. But they made your mum and dad so I guess relatively they made you. And they make you happy. They’re a part of you.” He’d paused only briefly to kiss the crown of your head. “And anyway, they love you. And I love you. So we already have something in common, yeah? We’ll get along fine.”

And when you’d turned your head to look up at him, he was looking at you with those damn stupid eyes. You were struck for a moment, because it looked genuine. Like he actually really wanted to meet your family. He was being so nice, and you knew he was right, plus those stupid, stupid eyes….

“Alright fine,” you’d huffed out. “You can come to my family reunion.” He beamed like you’d never seen before, and although the soft kisses he peppered all over your face in gratitude should’ve made you feel better, they only made you more scared.

Today, you’re in the kitchen helping prepare side dishes with all the women and female cousins. The men are out back drinking and barbecuing, and the kids are running around chasing one another. Liam is going to arrive at any minute and you could not be more terrified.

Everyone had been teasing you all day long. You’d taken their comments in stride, of course, but it was nerve-wracking. Like being interrogated. You knew it was out of love for you (and out of sheer excitement at the fact that a celebrity was coming over and could potentially be joining the family one day?), but you sincerely hoped that the comments would stop once he arrived.

“Does he make a lot of money?”

“How serious is the relationship?”

“Didn’t they just release a new album?”

“I like that one song… what is it called? ‘Things That Make You Beautiful?’”

“How did you two meet? You weren’t a groupie, were you? Those are just awful.”

“I once camped out in the lobby of Bon Jovi’s hotel for a whole night before they told me he wasn’t actually there. Tragic.” The questions, comments, and stories (that admittedly make you giggle) just keep coming, and you answer them as best as you can. “We’re fairly serious about the relationship.”

“It’s called ‘What Makes You Beautiful’, grandma.”

“No, I was not a groupie.”

It isn’t until your mother pokes her head out from behind the refrigerator and holds out a bottle of barbecue sauce that the questions finally seem to die down. “Will you take this out to your dad, please?”

You agree, because it gives you something to do while you wait for Liam to arrive. He’d told you he was running a little bit late but that he would be there as soon as he could. It wasn’t a problem, but it did make you more anxious.

You push open the door to the yard and it’s a completely different atmosphere. The heat is sweltering—the kind of hot air that makes it uncomfortable to breathe. The condensation on the side of the cold beer bottles matches the sweat dripping from your little cousins as they chase each other around and it grosses you out. You wrinkle up your nose absentmindedly and try not to think about how bad it’s gonna smell in your house later when everyone comes inside.

Your dad stands by the grill, laughing and talking with his brother in law and someone else, and he’s poking something around on the fire. He raises the beer bottle to his lips and sees you instantly. He reaches out a hand for the barbecue sauce. “Hey, (Y/N). I was just about to go get that. You read my mind.”

The minute you approach him, you see who this “someone else” is. You had no idea he’d even arrived yet but there he is—Liam in all his tall, gangly glory. He smiles at you. “Hi, babe!” He reaches out an arm to pull you into his side for a hug.

“Hey!” He can instantly sense your confusion as he presses his lips to your forehead.

“Sorry I didn’t text ya,” he says. “I got here and the party was started. I was gonna come find ya.”

Your dad beams at you. “(Y/N), I was just introducing Liam to everyone. We were having a very manly talk.”

Liam snorts. “Manly indeed.” He turns to you, a gleam in his eye. “I didn’t know your family was into classic old films.”

You giggle. “Do you know who my parents are? Of course they are.”

He smiles, and then suddenly makes a face. “Oh! Almost forgot.” He walks over to the little coffee table on your porch and picks up a bottle of wine. “This is for your mum. Where’s she at?”

“She’s inside. Here, I’ll take it!” That was just like Liam. Always so sweet. Always thinking of everyone else.

“No, no, it’s good. Let me! I wanna see her. And meet everyone else.” He raises a hand in your father’s direction. “Nice talking to you. We’ll run into each other later I’m sure.”

“Yeah definitely!” Liam turns to go into the house, keeping a hand on your back. Force of habit, you suppose, that he has to be touching you every time he’s in public. It isn’t something he realizes he does, you think. Once, you’d asked him about it because you had assumed it was a nervous habit. You thought he just wanted to be touching you because secretly he didn’t like crowds all that much. (Not a very far off guess either. Crowds had never been his favorite things, you’d learned.) But he said it was just to keep you two together, and to show you off proudly. To tell the world “She’s mine” and all that. Of course, after that sweet confession was made he just had to throw in a dirty joke about touching you in other ways under the table later that night, and you’d blushed and slapped his arm even though you’d actually wanted him to…

But that’s beside the point.

You turn to glance at your father one last time before disappearing into the house, and he flashes you a thumbs up and a nod. Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Liam had made a good impression on these people at least.

As soon as you and Liam enter the house, everyone goes silent. The older women stare at you expectantly, with the corners of their lips turned up in a way that tells Liam they were just talking about him. Your Aunt Susan lets out a quiet giggle that does not go unnoticed. Your seventeen- year-old cousin Nicole (coincidentally a Niall girl since day one) straightens up in her seat, nervously stroking her hair.

Liam clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. “Hello, everyone. I’m Liam.”

And then they go right back to talking—everyone at once. It doesn’t so much sound like individual voices as much as one giant buzzing noise.

And for some reason, though you’ll never know how he manages to do it, Liam answers everyone’s questions.

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“No, I’ve never heard of that.”

“I’m 25.”

“We met through a friend.” You stand there awe-stricken at the fact that your boyfriend is juggling all of these people and talking to them all at once. It’s like any other performance for him, and he does it so damn well that you can’t help but beam proudly at him.

“This one can’t stop talking about you!” your grandma says, nodding her head in your direction. Instantly, your cheeks go crimson because why in God’s name is that a necessary thing to say? Okay, sure, maybe you did talk about him a lot but it was only when someone else brought him up first or when you had a funny story to tell that just so happened to involve him. Or when someone asked you a question about him. Or when he had done something so damn sweet you just had to tell someone before your insides burst. Or when—

Your aunt cuts off your thoughts. “Oh gosh, isn’t that the truth? You must be pretty good to this girl.”

You can literally feel Liam’s gaze on your face and it actually burns. His dimple is deep enough to get lost in and you have to resist the urge to poke it like you normally do. You roll your eyes a bit, chewing on the inside of your lip and hoping someone says something else.

“Yeah?” Liam asks, not looking away from you. “Well she’s good to me. M’crazy about her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the women all coo and “aw” at frequency only dolphins could hear. You let out a nervous giggle and you know that Liam senses what you’re feeling. He’s too much of a little shit to do anything about it though, because he likes seeing you all giggly and nervous and red. Says it’s “damn cute” and wants you to stay that way forever.

Your mom comes to your rescue even though she’s completely oblivious to your embarrassment. “What’s this?” She reaches down to Liam’s free hand and takes the bottle of wine from it.

“Oh, s’for you. Sorry for showin’ up late. And sorry for not bringing more.”

“You didn’t have to bring it at all!” your mom says. “But you know I will never turn down wine. Thank you, Liam.”

He nods. “Of course.” He glances down at you with a smug smile that says ‘See? Everything is fine.’ You shake your head at him, amazed at what a charming little cheese-ball he can be. Then again, there was rarely ever a time that he wasn’t being a charming little cheese-ball. This family reunion was no exception.

It doesn’t take much longer until Liam is chatting up a storm with everyone. They all seem to have settled down with their teasing, which is wonderful. In fact, they seem to have almost forgotten that you’re even there all together. You watch from your seat at the counter beside your cousin as Liam buzzes around, comparing recipes and telling jokes and stories and laughing as if he has been apart of this family his whole life. He only briefly glances over his shoulder at you every now and again to smile or wink, and your heart flutters with pride at how good he’s being. Not that you weren’t expecting him to be good. But this, you were not expecting.

This cheerful guy who knows everything about baking the cake for after dinner (he did, after all, use to work in a bakery. He’d mentioned that three times now). This guy who told stories that had the whole room hanging on every word he spoke while he carefully stirred around the mashed potatoes so your mom wouldn’t have to. This guy who talked about you like you were God’s gift to the earth, and listened intently to every story from your childhood—even if you’d rather it not be shared with him. You could not love him any more than you did in this moment.

You’re almost disappointed when your dad pops in from the backyard and shouts, “Sorry to bother you, but can I steal Liam for a minute?”

“He was just getting to the good part of the story!” your aunt calls back, and Liam chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. He puts his hand up as if swearing an oath. “I promise I’ll finish it later. I’m all yours once he’s done with me”

He turns to go, but not without stopping at your seat and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. With a sweet smile, he disappears out the door on the heels of your father.

As soon as the door closes behind him, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. You don’t even want to turn to look at them, but you have nowhere else to look. So you sigh and look first at your mother, hoping that she’ll sense that you don’t want to be bombarded with more questions and comments.

It doesn’t work. Your grandma is the first to speak. “Oh my goodness, I think he is just lovely.” Which is a relief but at the same time, doesn’t mean much coming from the woman who’s told every boy you’ve known in your lifetime to “take care of my grandbaby or I’ll kill you.” Hell, she’d even threatened the guy who played your stage husband in your high school play. A kind gesture, yes, but an aggravating one to say the least. Liam was bound to get the threatening speech by the end of the night.

“I agree,” your aunt chimes in. “And you can see how much he loves you.”

Your cousin, Sara lets out all the air she’s been holding in her lungs for the past fifteen minutes. “Oh my GOD, he’s cute,” she says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard her talk since she got here. “Seriously, he’s even better in person.”

You giggle. “Thank you, guys. I know it really means a lot to him that you wanted him here.“ You reach for your glass of water because you hadn’t realized that all those nerves were making you thirsty.

“Of course!” your aunt replies. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Another aunt who, admittedly, you don’t know the name of (she was someone’s like, third wife or something who no one actually really knew anything about other than she was loud and proud and here in your kitchen) wiggles her eyebrows. “Yeah, especially if he’s gonna be part of the family one day. Do we hear wedding bells in the very near future?”

You nearly choke on your water, and you let out a little sputtering cough. “Uh… that’s not… I mean, we haven’t really… he’s only 25… I—” You aren’t quite how to answer this question in front of a room full of gossipy ladies. Sure they had your best interest at heart, and they were only trying to make fun conversation, but you and Liam are so young for God’s sake. You knew you wanted to marry him, but in the very near future? Couldn’t you at least, like, graduate college first?

Your mom senses your distress and laughs lightly. “Let’s not push it, Denise.” Denise. That’s her name. Dammit Denise. “She’s so young and we’re just happy she finally found someone.”

“True,” your grandma speaks up. “We all thought she was going to be single forever.” They all giggle, and you let out a nervous little giggle as well. What was that supposed to mean?

You are literally saved by the bell when the oven timer beeps, signaling it’s just about time to eat. The ladies abandon all gossip and teasing remarks and bustle around once more to get everything together. Ten minutes later, you find yourself seated beside Liam on the couch with a plate overflowing with food. Dinner is fantastic, of course, and many adults are enjoying Liam’s bottle of wine. Liam is still talking and laughing with ease, and it’s amazing how easily he is flowing from one topic to the next. Needless to say, he fits into this family far better than you could’ve ever hoped.

After dinner, when everyone is sitting with droopy eyes and full tummies, a small crowd slowly migrates out to the backyard. Liam, you’re assuming, is apart of that crowd because, once you come back from dropping your dish off in the sink, he’s disappeared. You don’t know whether to be happy or upset. You’d invited Liam to this as your sort of “date” and yet you’d hardly gotten to spend any time with him. Which was fine, because at least you knew everyone liked him. But between the women needing your assistance and the men talking to him about… well, everything, you’ve barely been able to say more than two sentences to him.

When the dishes are washed and everyone is settled once more, you take the opportunity to go find him. It doesn’t take long once you step outside. Though the sun is setting, the air is still hot. The men and a few of their wives are sitting around the porch drinking various alcoholic beverages and talking about work. They all greet you cheerfully, but don’t really deter from their conversation.

You step off of your porch and onto the grass where the little kids are still playing. And there, you see him. Running around and giggling just like he’s one of them. He’s tied his hair up into a bun at the back of his head, but he didn’t use as much care as he normally does because a few strands whip at his cheeks as he runs. His laugh echoes and mixes in with the younger children’s and the sounds are so adorable they make you want to explode.

They seem to be playing a game of tag, with Liam being “it.” You know he’s taking it easy on them because his long legs could move him much faster than he’s currently running. And because you know that he could take one step in their four steps. Finally, he catches up to your four-year-old cousin Hannah and, in one swift motion, scoops her up in his arms. He spins her around and yells like a monster, with her squealing and giggling like a crazy person. It’s all too damn cute; Liam with children has always been one of your weaknesses that he’s never known about. It makes you realize what a great father he’s going to be someday, and GOD how you hope it’ll be your kids he’s fathering.

He sees you mid spin and laughs, slowing down. It takes him a minute to get his balance and to get his brain to stop spinning, but once he seems steady on his feet again, he puts Hannah back on the ground and walks to you with a smile on his face. He glances over his shoulder at the little kids, who now all seem disappointed that their new “cousin Liam” (as you’d later learn was what they were so affectionately calling him) was done playing. “Gimme a sec.” He smiles back at you. “Hi, my love.”

When he reaches you, he takes both of your hands in his and pulls you into him for a quick kiss, earning a chorus of “eeeewwwww” from the little kids. You giggle into the kiss, but don’t pay attention to them. When you pull away, you speak. “Looks like you’re a hit.”

“Yeah, they won’t let me go,” he chuckles. “But I love it. I’m having fun. Just miss bein’ around you.”

“My whole family loves you, Liam. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

“Yeah, well, I love them just as much.” Before any other words can be exchanged, one of the little monsters— Hannah’s six-year-old brother Josh— runs up and leaps up onto Liam’s back, causing him to emit a loud “oof” and almost topple over. He regains himself quickly, hopping a bit to adjust the kid on his back, before chuckling. “Heeeey. What are you doing?”

“Play with us!” Josh yells, kicking his legs a bit and almost hitting you.

You giggle and take a step back as Liam attempts to stop his kicking. “I will, I will! Just have to talk to (Y/N) for a bit, yeah? I miss her.”

“Don’t you guys live together?” comes another raspy little voice. Your other baby cousins—Dalton, Lea, Callie, and Hannah—have all appeared at Liam’s feet, blinking up at you with big wide eyes.

You and Liam exchange a glance before you speak. “Not… really. I have my own apartment and so does Liam. We just… hang out a lot.”

“You guys are dating, right?” It’s Lea, the ever-shy one with the cutest little lisp, who speaks.

You smile, reaching down to brush her hair behind her ear. “Yes ma’am.”

“Yuuuuck,” Josh groans.

“It’s not yucky!” Hannah shouts back. “It’s nice.” She blinks up at you. “Do you guys like… kiss and stuff?”

It’s an innocent question but your cheeks still go a bit red. You look at Liam, who’s wearing a tongue-in-cheek smirk and looking everywhere but your eyes. You let out a puff of air. “Uh…”

“No,” Liam says, very seriously all of a sudden. “Of course not. Don’t you know that girls have cooties?”

“Cooties aren’t real,” says Callie. She always has been the practical one of the family, even when she was a baby. Now, at eight, you can see she hasn’t changed.

Liam doesn’t budge. “Are too,” he retorts.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes huh.”

“Nuh UH!”

You giggle, and little Hannah cuts off their argument. “Cooties aren’t real because mommy and daddy kiss each other and they don’t have cooties.”

“That’s because they’re married, Hannah.” Liam sounds like he’s given this some thought, and you laugh at his serious tone. “You can only kiss when you’re married.”

“Nuh UH! I just saw you and (Y/N) kiss!”

Lea gasps. “Are you and (Y/N) getting married?”

You and Liam look at each other, wanting so badly for the other to say something that’ll get them off this subject. “Uh,” Liam laughs. “Probably someday.”

“Really?!”

All three little girls look up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, and you furrow your eyebrows. It’s your turn to say something. “Um. I mean… yeah. Probably. Someday. Not like, soon or anything but—“

“Can I be the flower girl?” Callie asks.

“You’re too old to be the flower girl,” Lea says.

“Nuh uh, flower girls can be whatever age they want to be, huh (Y/N)?”

“What about the ring bear?” asks Josh, squirming around excitedly on Liam’s back.

“Can I be the ring bear?”

“I wanna be the ring bear!” Dalton yells.

“It’s ring bearer, guys,” Callie says with a roll of her eyes.

While all the little kids discuss your future wedding, you notice Liam hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You blink nervously for a moment before offering him an apologetic smile.

His nose wrinkles up and suddenly he’s squatting down to put Josh on the ground. He’s eye level with all of them now. “You guys can be whatever you want to be,” he says. “Hey, we’ll even let you plan the wedding, yeah? But I have to tell you, that day won’t be for a while. Don’t get all excited now.”

“Do you love (Y/N)?” Lea asks, batting her long eyelashes at Liam.

Liam smiles up at you with his lips pressed tightly together. He nods. “I do.”

The three little girls immediately let out a chorus of sighs. “How romantic,” Hannah says, and you giggle because at four-years-old, “romantic” is probably the biggest vocabulary word she knows how to use.

Liam stands up, his knees popping a bit until he’s once again towering over you. “(Y/N), I have to use the little boy’s room,” he says quietly. You giggle, taking his hand.

“Right on,” you mumble back. You turn to the kids once again. “Listen, we’ll be right back, okay?”

They shout back their approval and you lead Liam up to the house. The people on the porch greet Liam enthusiastically but still never deter from their conversation, much to Liam’s liking. Apparently, no one had left him alone all day so he hadn’t even had time to ask where the bathroom was. Your poor little social butterfly.

You lead him through the house, dodging in and out of people and their conversations. The poor thing feels almost guilty that he can’t stop to talk to them all. But at this point he feels like his bladder is a ticking time bomb that can’t wait much longer, something he announces to you as you pull him through the living room. You let out another giggle and a “ew, Liam” before approaching the guest bathroom towards the front of the house.

To your dismay, the minute you knock on the closed door, you hear a voice from inside call out, “Just a minute!”

You turn to your boyfriend. “Think you can wait a minute?” He shakes his head, eyes wide and you roll your eyes. “You’re really gonna make me do this?”

“Do what?” he asks, but you don’t answer him. You’re already pulling him up the stairs behind you in the direction you’d hoped you’d never have to take him… your childhood bedroom.

It wasn’t that there was anything particularly terrible about it. It was just that the last time you’d lived here was in high school. All through college you either lived on campus or in your own apartment, so clearly this place hasn’t been updated in quite some time.

You reach the closed door (second on the left) and let out a sigh. “Liam before you go in here just know that… I haven’t been up here in awhile. So it’s probably… embarrassing… and—“

“(Y/N), I love you. I really do. But if I don’t get to the bathroom in the next ten seconds I am going to actually explode.”

You giggle, pushing open the door and letting him inside. He runs immediately to the tiny bathroom connected to your bedroom and closes the door. Meanwhile, you step into the room and take this time to really admire it. You close the door behind you so no one knows you’re up here and thinks they can use this bathroom (it is still, technically your room and is therefore off limits).

The room is exactly how you remembered it. When you’d lived here in high school, you didn’t really care what you had in here. Posters of bands hang all over the walls, your stuffed animals line the shelves above your old twin size bed, and there, poorly hidden by a chair, is the stain from the time you’d snuck a bottle of wine up here with your friends and accidentally spilled it all over the carpet. You giggle at the memory. It had been so serious to you back then.

You sit on the edge of the bed, but soon give in to your temptation and allow yourself to lie backwards. You’re so tired. All the tension from being so nervous all day has really gathered in your shoulders, and God a massage would feel so good. (Perhaps something to bring up tonight when you get to Liam’s, you think.) You’ve been on your feet all day, and you hadn’t even realized they were hurting until right now. You’re about to close your eyes when you realize what you’re looking at.

On the ceiling hangs a poster of Zac Efron in his High School Musical era and you actually laugh out loud. Why had you put that up there?

About a minute later, Liam comes out of the bedroom to find you lying there and he smiles to himself. He looks around the room, too, taking in the pieces of your past like its some big secret you’d kept hidden away this whole time. Technically, you had kept it hidden away.

He comes and towers over you and you smile up at him. He’s not looking at you, however. He’s instead looking up to where your eyes just were moments ago. His eyebrow quirks up as his hand comes to absentmindedly stroke his chin. After a moment of silent observation, he nods. “He’s cute.”

You giggle, sitting up. “What can I say? I’ve always had good taste in men.”

He laughs, plopping down beside you on the bed and cupping a hand behind your neck to bring your face closer. Without any type of warning, he presses a soft, deep, still smiley kiss to your lips, and after a few moments of him sucking on your bottom lip, you sigh into his mouth. This was exactly what you needed right now.

He pulls away, smiling at you. “I love you, (Y/N). And I love your family a lot. All of ‘em.”

You bite at your lip, wanting to shout for joy. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Seriously. I could not be happier to be here with you right now.” He presses another quick kiss to your lips before continuing. “Although… it has been kinda tough being away from you all day.”

“I know,” you say, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no! No need to be sorry. Your family is great. Talking to them is great. I’m not complaining. “ He smirks suddenly, the infamous dimple making its appearance. “Plus, I get you all to myself tonight when we leave.” He leans forward to kiss along your jawline.

You turn your head, granting him easier access to your neck. You can’t help it. You let out a hum of contentment as his lips travel lower, and it takes everything in you not to allow your now fluttering eyelashes to close. “Well,” you say quietly, “you have me all to yourself right now.”

You can feel the smirk deepen against your neck. “That I do,” he says, immediately followed by another kiss. “But. I don’t want to keep you from your family.” His lips are now fastened to your collarbone, making it clear that yes, actually, he does want to keep you from your family.

You turn your head and push your forehead to his. “They’re not gonna mind. They don’t even notice we’re gone.”

It doesn’t take any more than that. Immediately, he pushes you back on the bed. It’s a bit of an awkward shuffle, but the two of you manage to crawl higher up on the bed so that you aren’t hanging off the edge. (Well, Liam will be hanging off the edge regardless. It was so damn tiny.)

The bed creaks loudly under you, but neither of you seem to mind. You’re too busy trying not to just lose all control to rip his clothes off, and he’s too busy letting his lips get lost in the dip between your neck and your shoulder. Clearly he’d been waiting for this all day.

Your skirt has ridden completely up, and Liam uses that to his advantage. While one hand fumbles with the buttons at the top of your dress, the other hand reaches down to your thigh. He rubs lightly up and down, going higher each time like the little tease he is. You shift a bit so that maybe he’ll get the hint, but all you get in response is another creak of the bed.

This time Liam laughs, though he never removes his lips from your neck. “Loud bed,” he muses. “Have to be more careful.” You feel almost paralyzed underneath him because what he’s doing feels so damn good, and he hasn’t even kissed anywhere lower than your chest yet. He shifts so that he’s basically on top of you and begins grinding his hips against yours. The ever-growing bulge is hitting just where you want it to and fuck it feels so good you want to cry out.

Your nose wrinkles up as you smile, a soft moan just on the verge of escaping. “God, Liam,” you speak in a near whisper. “Fuck.”

“M’not even doing anything yet,” he teases, because that stupid boy knows damn well what he’s doing to you. He reaches down to rub over the fabric of your underwear and you’re about to curse again, when a knock comes at the door.

You both instantly freeze, locking eyes in sheer panic. When a soft little “Liam?” is heard in none other than Hannah’s voice, you let out a breath.

“Um, he’s in the bathroom,” you call out, still frozen.

“(Y/N)?” asks Hannah, more confused now. “Are you guys both in there?” She jiggles the doorknob and you thank God in heaven that you’d locked it.

“Um, yeah,” you say. “Only because… I had to… show him where it was.”

An evil little grin spreads across Liam’s face suddenly and he ducks his head to fasten his lips to your neck once more.

“Liam,” you hiss.

Hannah continues outside the door. “How much longer do you think he’s gonna be?”

“Um,” you say, and Liam literally snorts because your voice cracks when he bites down. “I’m not really sure, sweetie. Probably not that much longer.”

“Oh….” Hannah says. “Well, okay. I’m just gonna wait for him out here then.”

“NO,” you yell out, almost too quickly. It’s partly because of Hannah’s declaration of her patience, but mostly because Liam has now moved your bra and is kissing your exposed breast and holy shit, what is it that he’s trying to do here?

The bed creaks and Hannah speaks again. “Was that the bed?”

Liam laughs quietly once again, and you know he’s doing this purely for his own entertainment. “N-No,” you stutter. “It wasn’t.”

“It sounded like a bed.” The doorknob jiggles again. “Why is the door locked?”

You let out an exasperated sigh as Liam sucks lightly at the skin of your chest. “Sweetheart, please. Can you just go back out and play again? Liam will be back in a little bit.”

“How long is a little bit?”

Liam sighs, pulling away and smiling apologetically. “This is pointless. My people need me,” he whispers, kissing lightly at your nose before crawling off the bed.

“Wait,” you hiss out quietly. “You’re just gonna… leave me here? You’re not even gonna finish what you started?”

“Who are you talking to?” Hannah calls.

Liam clears his throat. “It’s me, love. Hold on. I’m coming.”

You raise your eyebrow, clearly a little bit ticked. “Well, you could be coming if we weren’t being cock-blocked by a four-year-old.”

Liam laughs. “Cheeky.” He reaches down to—ehem—adjust himself before going to quickly wash his hands and fix his hair in the mirror. “Like you said,” he says quietly before opening the door. “I’ll have you all to myself tonight when we get back to my place, yeah?” He gives you a quick wink before opening the door and slipping out into the hallway.

He closes the door behind him, which gives you enough time to straighten up a bit and saves you from having to look your cousin in the eye while your skirt was halfway off. When you do finally decide to leave the room, Liam and Hannah are long gone. Dammit.

You rejoin your mother and the other women in the living room, and you’re glad no one questions it further when you tell them you just had to show him where the upstairs bathroom is. Out of the window you can see him sitting on the porch, little Hannah curled up on his lap. One of his hands strokes lazily through her curls while the other holds a beer bottle that someone (probably your dad) had given him. You let out a sigh. He was right. You would finally get to be alone with him for the whole night as soon as you left here. You could stand a few more hours without him.

Those few hours go by slow as molasses until finally, the crowd has significantly shrunk in size. You and Liam make the decision to leave and after saying your goodbyes to everyone left at the party, you climb into his car.

There are a few moments of silence as he pulls out of your driveway and onto the road. Probably because you’re shocked at how well that went. You glance over at Liam who’s completely focused on the road, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell with pride. You ‘re so damn lucky.

Liam smiles, but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?” he asks.

You reach up to poke the dimple, something you’d been resisting all night. “Nothing. Just… proud of you. Proud that you’re mine.” You adjust your seatbelt to lean across the center console and press a kiss to his cheek. “You did so good today.”

This time, he does steal a quick glance at you before speaking. “I said it a million times and I’ll say it a million more: I love your family. I wanna be around ‘em all the time. When’s the next family reunion?”

You giggle. “Well the family reunion thing usually happens once every summer, so, unfortunately, you’ll have to wait. But every year for Christmas we do something with Hannah’s family.”

Liam’s eyebrows quirk up at this. “Yeah? I love that little girl.”

You giggle. “She loves you, too. We’ve never seen her warm up to someone so quickly before.”

“When we’re married, let’s have a little girl just like her.”

Your heart actually stops right then and there at his use of the world “when.” He wants it to happen just as much as badly as you do, and he wants to have a little girl with you. You bite at your lip, trying to find the right thing to say back to that, but all you can come up with is a quiet “Okay.”

He smiles at you, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh. “I love you, (Y/N). I really mean that. I love you. And I love your family. And I really hope to spend the rest of my life with you. And with your family.”

You giggle. “I love you, too, Liam. And they love you. I can’t tell you how huge that is.”

Instead of speaking, Liam takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips to kiss. It feels like everything he meant to say was in that kiss, and if you thought you couldn’t be more in love with him than you were earlier, you were definitely wrong.

You think back to what your Aunt Denise said about marriage and how nervous it had made you, but now… well, it just seemed silly. It wasn’t nerve-wracking at all really. It was so simple. So obvious. Of course you want to marry Liam. Even if you are young, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are the luckiest girl on the planet, and you could not be happier to be his.

#Liam Imagine #written imagine #Liam Imagine Request #imagine request #scheduled imagine

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survivorforestofhorrors · 4 years

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Episode 6: a good stabbing tool - Jessie

Josh leaving was total shit tbh. He was one of the people I trusted in this game. I had a feeling he would be screwed over though just realizing he was in minority. Tim is probably running things over there like he always does, and I don’t know why people never want to take him out. Like he really needs to go. He’s just going to find another idol and play it the next time someone targets him. 🤦🏼‍♂️

Okay so its round 6 and NOT round 4. I have not done a whole hell of a lot this game tbh, but lets recap. So where i am is i fell asleep round 1 and failed to vote in the 21 person mess, but i would of genuinley voted billy so its okay. Then my swap tribe i got into a small mess and thought i was at risk but got a 3 with dan and Liv and then a 4 with daulton, grace and Liv

so basically liv is my ride or die in this game and he is a FANTASTIC ally, i just have to get back to him. Weary of zach but knowing damn well he is a fallback ally if needed because of TS and my F2 with him. I know basically everyone in this game so i have a major advantage with connections and dont need to start learning about people as some people already have a great idea of me. Anyways the Chips vote i was at a friends house so i just made sure i was good and dipped but that vote was really simple. Swapping after that round i got dead last pick....which is very concerning for my life in this game, but i got savannah and gavin, two allies who i am very happy to have here, gavin is another close ally who i worked well with in the past so im picking that up, and i hosted and enjoyed Savannah so im using that line to help me here to gain at least a 3-3, maybe a 4-2. I know my path aint gonna be easy here but i just gotta start talkin and get myself any advantage i can

like knowing RTP and i are both knife holders now. got a lot of work ahead of me but now this is my focus. time to watch me shine

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lmao at this rate with one person posting an hour we’re getting dead last

yo we did bad bad lmao. I kinda figured we were going to lose, but damn, that sucked haha. I am very tempted to search for the idol, but also, I don't really think I will need one? In my fantasy me, Daulton, and Livingston vote together seamlessly to stay in the game. Ideally, I would like Liam to go bc he turned out to be a little shady and was willing to put a second vote on me last round. I just think that he has the potential to do it again. The other thing in the back of my mind too is that Austin told me about his power to get rid of two votes.... which is spicy and definitely something I want to keep close to my chest. I feel like I could in theory use it as leverage against him, but if he senses danger, he could easily use it and him and Liam could vote for me this round. So that's a no go. I also kinda have a soft spot for Austin, so I don't want to do that to him ahah. I think that this round is going to be really telling as far as where allegiances actually lie. I almost feel less worried knowing that I have no way of saving myself (unless I can convince Austin to use his power to save me) this round. It's rather peaceful knowing that I don't have shit to save myself, so I can play a little more loyal and not get too cracked about idols and shit.

The plot motherfuckin thickens!!!! Austin has a HUGE power haha I think it's a little bit over powered but akfjalksj. He now has a power that cancels 3 votes of his choosing... This could get really spicy for me. Austin wants to target Livingston, which... is interesting. He told me that Livingston and Savanna know one another in real life, which is no bueno for me. I want to be Livingston's #1 not someone he knows in real life. BUT I just can't vote him out. He has been really good to me. So I could force a tie between Livingston and Austin if Austin uses his power and then just vote Austin out on the revote? Ugh I have no fucking idea.

I HATE that we lost. 😭 I genuinely love everyone on the Macneil Tribe, and now I have to vote one of them out. I have made a group that consists of a Macneil majority with Livingston, Dan, and myself, and the plan is to vote out Austin which does suck because I love him. But I do love Liam more, and if I can get my way in any decision that is made, it’s a good tribal. I’m just hoping no funny business is going to happen tonight lmao.

Woot woot.

- wise words from someone i know

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So I’m a little late hoping on the confessional train probably because I’ve been high key safe for a good chunk of this game .

About probably ten minutes before I started writing the “Merps.” Alliance was former .

It’s Me, Maynor and Keaton.

I trust Maynor a lot and I don’t plan on voting him out.

Gavin got thrown out of the tribe chat.

Rip him.

He’s probably gonna be back after tribal unless we merge or switch tribes again.

This games actually been pretty laid back but I won’t complain I enjoy it a lot .

I have a machete from my daily searches which is super cool.

Who doesn’t love a good stabbing tool that I could gut the killer open with ?

I’m currently trying to figure out what exactly the plan for tribal is .

I mean there’s only five of us on the tribe since Gavin got yeeted to wherever .

I wonder what path would grant me random safety o.o

I also have a flashlight so that’s cool to I guess .

Anyways I just wanted to get some sort of thought out there in case it is me that goes tonight .

Like it’s round six so if could I want to have a confessional.

If the killer does kill me tonight you bet I fought them .

Forever vibing and hopefully not dying in this game tonight ?

Xoxo

Jessie 🪓

I feel like I’m unnecessarily nervous about the vote tonight ugh. I feel like things have fallen into place easier than they should.... austin is using his power, which makes me nervous about voting for him because then it’s super obvious that I’m the one who did him in. But also, I feel like I need to stay true to the people I’ve been with since basically the start (Livingston and Daulton) so I’m just really sad. I would really prefer Liam to go over Austin, but at the same time it’s just not gonna happen. I don’t want to risk losing people I have that strong of a bond with. I’m fairly certain if it’s a tie vote between Austin and Livingston, that Liam and Daulton will vote for Austin to go. It’s all so scary because this could be a shot at me, but if it is, it’s a good shot to take and I won’t even be mad about it.

Well, they got me gals! It has been such a PLEASURE playing this game. I feel like as of late I’ve taken games sooooo seriously. This game reminded me of the old days when things were simple haha. The hosting was INCREDIBLE! Keegan, Rachael, and Abri are the most incredible, warm human beings I’ve ever encountered and I will so dearly miss their spirit. To the rest of my cast members, I just want to say a big thank you. I’m thanking you all for being so warm and receptive to me in this game and for making me believe in this stupid community again. This is now a Daulton, Livingston, Liam, and Austin stan account.

#Forest of Horrors #Survivor #Episode 6

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

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Some Call It Magic (A CS AU) Part 13/?

When Killian Jones moves to Storybrooke he instantly senses something strange about this little town in Maine but he’s willing to overlook all the bizarre signs for one reason: the single Mum living next door to him. There’s only one problem. Killian is nearly positive she’s a witch, a brewing potions and casting spells witch. But when true love is involved, does a little thing like magical powers really matter? Story rated M.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12. Also On FF Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So I want to first start off with a genuine thank you! I got so much awesome feedback from so many of you last time and I just hope this chapter meets expectations after such a great response. As promised we are getting to the moment where Liam and Emma meet, and because I live in a fluff-filled world where there is no real angst, this is a happy meeting (even if Emma is a little nervous beforehand). Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading!

The thing about being in love and being really happy that Emma had come to find, was that even on the busiest days, the ones where she should have been pulling her hair out or cursing the clock for all the things that needed to be done, it was impossible not to feel like everything would work out in the end.

That was just one of the many pleasant side effects of being with Killian, and despite the non-stop pace of the last hour’s work, Emma was still feeling great from the little stolen moment they’d had before. It didn’t matter that she was now covered in batter and frosting and the bit of powdered sugar that Ruby had thrown at her earlier. Emma was a mess, truth be told, but inside she felt totally content and at peace because it was just a matter of time until she got to go home and see the man who kept her smiling again.

“Damn, Emma, you really are happy, aren’t you?” Ruby asked from across the kitchen and Emma looked up, realizing she had a full-blown grin on her face that she couldn’t seem to hide.

“Yeah I am,” she agreed, giving into the wonderful feeling that came when she embraced what her heart really wanted instead of trying to conceal everything as she had in the past. “Can you blame me though?”

“Not even a little bit. He’s your guy, Ems. There’s no denying that or how much he loves you.”

Emma cast her eyes back to the table station she was working on tidying up more to hide her ever growing smile than anything else. It was one thing to be sappy and over the top in all these good feelings, but it was another thing to be so flamboyant about it. So even if it was hopeless and everyone knew how gone over each other she and Killian were, Emma would still try and act like this was all no big deal.

“You know you never explained to me why we had to get all of this done so early,” Emma said as she got the last of the brownies from the cooling rack and into their special blue boxes that their customer had requested for their pickup. “Isn’t this order getting picked up tomorrow morning? Why the rush?”

“Oh you know…” Ruby said with an elongated pause that spoke to her stalling somehow. “Things just come up and I figured we’d like a clear and free afternoon in case there were any unexpected surprises.”

The mention of surprises immediately alerted Emma to something being afoot and now she knew in her gut that Ruby was purposefully not telling her something. The only question was what could it be. With Ruby the ‘surprise’ in question could be anything, but there wasn’t time to press for information, because the next thing Emma knew the door from the kitchen to the café was swinging open and in came her exuberant and excited ten year old.

“Hey Mom!” Henry called out with a toothy grin and Emma was happy to see him but also shocked. He wasn’t supposed to be here right now. What had happened to their usual routine?

“Henry, what are you doing here? Where’s Grace? Where’s her Dad?” Emma asked, looking behind him to see if either Jefferson or his daughter were anywhere around.

“Okay don’t be mad but I might have given them the slip…” Henry confessed, looking a tiny bit guilty, but not nearly as much as he should have.

“Oh Henry,” Emma said, shaking her head and dealing with both a sense of humor at her son’s ingenuity and worry at his propensity for running off. It wasn’t safe for him to do things like this, and as his Mom she had to want him to stop sneaking away, but he really did have a talent for getting his way, and history had taught Emma there was always a rationale behind moments like this one.

“I had good reason though because Liam’s here!” Henry said and Emma just blinked at her son trying to understand his words.

“Liam... like Liam Jones?” Emma asked and Henry grinned wider, his excitement more than evident as he moved around like a little ball of bursting positive energy.

“Yeah! I had a dream he was coming today and then he did so I told Grace and her Dad I was coming to the café with you. I even walked in earlier to make it convincing,” he explained, giving Emma all the context she could need even as it didn’t compute for her.

“You did?” Emma asked, totally surprised. “When?”

“Earlier, when you were busy.”

“When I was…” Emma’s voice trailed off because the only time she’d been ‘busy’ was when Killian was here and Emma didn’t even want to breach the possibility of Henry having seen something. The only thing she took comfort in was that Ruby whispered to her that she’d run interference and Henry hadn’t made it to the back of the shop. At least that was going in her favor.

“Busy, yeah. But now I was thinking we have to do something to celebrate. Can we make a cake or something? Maybe one that says ‘Welcome Home Liam!’ on it?”

“Well technically, kid, this isn’t Liam’s home,” Emma hedged because the man had never actually been here before and she didn’t want Henry getting his hopes up too high. That being said, the idea of making a cake wasn’t a bad one. Actually it might be the best way for her to fight this lurch of anxiety she’d been suffering from since discovering that Killian’s only living family was here in town and she was going to meet him sometime soon.

“But it will be! You gotta trust me, Mom. I know these things,” Henry stated definitively and Emma smirked at the confidence only to realize that with Henry that might not just be a hunch. He did, after all, have an impeccable track record with these intuitive guesses of his, and if he’d had a dream about Liam coming then maybe he had other reason to believe Killian’s brother would be staying close.

“Since you seem to know everything, Henry, riddle me this,” Ruby said with a hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips. “What kind of cake does the new guy like, in case we were going to make something for him.”

“Vanilla cake with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles,” Henry said with total assurance and Emma’s brow furrowed. Seriously? He even knew this? How was that possible? “You know, Mom. Just like in the picture Killian has over the fireplace from when they were kids.”

Emma’s heart immediately softened at that and she understood that it was just the observant nature of her son that had absorbed that little factoid. For months Henry had taken a real interest in Killian and in his stories about Liam too, but clearly Henry was paying even more attention than Emma realized. That had to mean something, and in this case Emma believed it gave every indication that her kid was feeling as secure and agreeable to her and Killian’s relationship as possible. She decided to take all of this in stride, and as a good sign instead of giving way to the worries that might otherwise win out if she thought too long about the impending introductions.

“Well, isn’t that interesting. You realize we know someone else with that exact same favorite flavor…” Ruby said and it only took a second for Emma to make the connection too. That was exactly the cake that Elsa always favored, and in fact, Emma had just sent over half a dozen cupcakes of that variety with Killian for her friend.

“All right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Emma counseled as she moved across the kitchen to grab some things for the requisite cake. “I know you love your matchmaking, but a shared favorite cake flavor does not a relationship make.”

“I don’t know, Ems. If he looks anything like his brother, has a hot accent, and likes cake that might just be enough for Elsa. She’s ready for a happily ever after, and Liam Jones might just be the man for the job.”

“You gonna weigh in on this one, kid?” Emma asked half joking but half wondering if Henry knew something but her son only shook his head and made a motion as if to say his lips were sealed.

This whole conversation was just getting weirder and weirder but then Emma’s phone buzzed with a text and she looked down to see it was from Killian. She opened it quickly and smiled despite the nerves that were still fluttering around low in her gut. Even if she was worried about making a good impression on Liam, she couldn’t resist the charms of her boyfriend or deny the sincere and witty plea he made for Emma and Henry to join the two of them for dinner now that Liam was back.

“Good news, Henry. It looks like we’ve officially got the invite to meet our new potential neighbor…” Emma said as she flashed Henry a smile. “I guess we have to make that cake, huh?”

“Totally!”

With nothing left to say on the matter, Emma and Henry dove right in to crafting the edible welcome for Killian’s brother. It was an interesting dynamic too, because on the one hand Emma was feeling the stirrings of anxiety over meeting with Liam, but it was impossible to really feel badly when she was with her kid and baking. Making good food that people would enjoy was an anchor for Emma’s sanity, and as she followed the recipe and worked to rein in the extra flourishes that Henry was prone to using when he stepped into the kitchen, Emma was pretty well distracted. She didn’t have time to linger on questions of whether or not Liam would like her or how she should act when they were introduced. Instead she was too busy trying to make sure that her first impression would be as positive as it could be and that this cake would taste as sweet as her normal treats tended to.

“I know you’re probably freaking out about the whole meet the family thing…” Ruby said when the cake was finally frosted and decorated to perfection a little over an hour later and Henry was retrieving the necessary box from elsewhere in the café. “But Liam’s going to love you Emma. Unless he’s like totally mental, he’ll adore you just like everyone else does.”

Emma had to laugh at the word choice and the horrible attempt at an accent that was similar in horrendousness to when Emma herself tried to impersonate Killian. It was clear that Ruby was trying to help lighten the mood, but strangely enough Emma was handling this pretty well on her own. Was she worried? Yes. But there wasn’t even a shred of doubt in her about where she and Killian stood. Killian loved her without limits and he’d made it abundantly clear that he would always love her. It was just a given in her life now, a force for good that kept her grounded and feeling as wonderful as she did these days. So no, this wasn’t a make it or break it situation. If things went sideways, she would still have Killian in the end. Emma was just hoping that there could be friendliness between her and Killian’s brother because she knew it would mean the world to Killian and to Henry too.

“And if he doesn’t approve of me right away, I’ll just bribe him with cake,” Emma joked as she waved at the meticulously crafted dessert before them.

“Hey, don’t knock it! Far greater trials have been rectified with an Emma Swan dessert. What’s winning over the approval of one future brother-in-law?”

“Ruby,” Emma chastised as she looked to the doorway glad to see Henry wasn’t yet back to hear that means of summary. “You can’t just go saying things like that.”

“Why not? You and Killian are one hundred percent getting married. There’s no question about that. It’s just a matter of time.”

Emma loved the idea that that was the case because it was what she was fast accepting as the future she wanted. For years she’d denied that a marriage and a partner in life was what she desired, but Killian had shown her what could be and now her heart and mind had totally shifted gears. Emma felt a flutter of excitement course through her just at the thought of being Killian’s wife and calling him her husband, but three months was so short a time, and Ruby and the rest of Emma’s friends were known for getting ahead of themselves. Plus, it felt like when they said these things out loud that they were pushing, and the last thing Emma wanted was for Killian to feel pushed into acting before he was ready, even if she was swiftly accepting that she didn’t want a future without him in it with her and Henry.

“It’s just a matter of time until what?” Henry asked as he came back in and Emma raised a brow at Ruby, silently daring her friend to repeat what she’d actually said. Instead Ruby covered with her usual sassy flair.

“It’s just a matter of time until I can’t help myself and I start eating this cake. So you two gotta get the show on the road or Liam isn’t getting anything.”

Emma’s stomach flipped at the reminder, but Ruby was right. There was no need to delay any more and they should be getting home if only so she could get showered and changed before dinner time popped around. So without further ado, and with the calm that came from Henry hugging her tight before they headed out, Emma went to face this new milestone, knowing it was the first time (and hopefully the last) that she’d have to go through the whole meeting the family thing.

Things from there moved very quickly, but Emma was surprised at how easy it was. Henry, despite his still evident excitement, was the picture of perfect behavior and he gave Emma all the room to do what needed doing at home before they left. At no point did he plead to go over early or sneak out of the house, and his maturity in the face of this moment was a godsend for Emma. Especially when, right as they were leaving the house, Henry offered her some words of wisdom.

“You want to know how I know it’s all going to be okay, Mom?” Henry asked and Emma looked down at her son and nodded, running her hand along his shoulders encouragingly.

“Sure, kid. Lay it on me.”

“I know it’s going to work out because Killian wouldn’t let it go any other way. He’ll make this good for all of us, you’ll see.”

Emma actually felt tears stinging at her eyes when Henry said that with so much belief in his tone. It was beautiful that Henry could have that kind of faith, and Emma knew he was right because Killian had earned every bit of the trust needed to make that faith real. He’d spent months showing both Emma and Henry that their hearts were safe with him, and matter what happened, Killian would always be on their team, which was a powerful thing to hold onto in a moment like this.

“And here I was thinking you were going to sing my praises,” Emma joked as she ran a hand through Henry’s floppy hair. “You know I’m pretty cool, right? I’m likeable all on my own, thank you very much.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, love,” a voice said and Emma looked up to find that Killian and a man she’d never seen who must be Liam were already waiting for them. Well so much for a normal introduction, but from the familiar, charming grin that reminded Emma of Killian’s, Emma could tell Liam was honestly glad to see her. He stuck out his hand in greeting and introduced himself. “Liam Jones at your service.”

“Emma Swan, and I think you’ve already met my son Henry,” Emma said kindly as she cast her eyes from a nodding Liam to Killian. A pang went through her at the impact of their gazes, and she knew how much this moment meant to Killian and how happy he was to have it. That feeling was infectious and Emma found herself smiling even in the face of her nerves before laughing at Henry’s impatient form of greeting.

“Liam and I are old pals, right Liam?” Henry asked as he moved his hand to fist bump with the older man, and though Emma wondered if Liam would know what to do, he handled it gracefully with the same confident but endearing swagger that Killian always seemed to have.

It was obvious that Killian and Liam were related, especially when Liam spoke to Henry with the same accent and similar mannerisms, but as Killian came and took the cake from Emma’s grasp and kissed her cheek sweetly, she knew she’d never regret the brother her heart had chosen to love so truly. There was just something about Killian that was perfectly right for her, and though neither of them were without flaws, they meshed in a way that made the world seem new and Emma feel powerful and safe all at once.

“I missed you, Swan,” Killian whispered and Emma felt herself flushing with pleasure at the words but she chuckled at their sincerity before throwing him a knowing look in jest.

“How did you possibly have time? I would have though Liam would do whatever it took to keep you entertained.”

“I did my damndest,” Liam laughed out as they all headed inside. “But I’m afraid I was up against an impossible task. When a man’s left his heart with the woman he loves, he’ll always want her near. At least that’s what people tell me.”

“What people?” Henry asked as he picked up a scampering Luna into his arms. He looked genuinely curious and Liam pretended to think about it, going through exaggerated motions of trying to wrack his brain for his sources before providing a response.

“You know, I don’t know. Must have dreamed it up.”

“You get cool dreams too?!” Henry asked with renewed enthusiasm and Emma’s heart dropped. She felt Killian’s hand tighten around hers and she knew he was with her in the little bit of worry since Liam didn’t know about magic or Henry’s gifts, but Killian’s elder brother just rolled with it.

“Aye, lad. Sailors are prone to such things you know. Something about closeness to the sea that brings a certain kind of wisdom.”

Whether he picked up on the tension or not, Liam had successfully turned a moment of concern back into charted waters and from there Henry chatted a mile a minute about sailing and boats and the sea. Liam was totally game for it too, engaging on every level, and though Killian and Emma participated as well, it was calming for Emma to take a step back and just take it all in. That conversation continued through dinner, a spread that Emma was told had been mostly of Killian’s making with a little helpful guidance from Liam since Henry was detained, but the defining element of the night was that things just flowed. It became clear pretty soon that the worrying had been for nothing, and Liam was just the kind of man that Killian had said he was: witty, personable, and understanding in a way that made Emma feel accepted even without so many words passed between them.

Eventually though there did come a moment when a private conversation could be had between Emma and Liam, and she knew it was coming. For as easy as things had been up to now, there needed to be a moment when the truth won out. Emma wasn’t sure exactly how that conversation would look, but she was pleased when Killian and Henry had excused themselves to clean up the meal and go get the cake and Liam broke the silence between them.

“I truly can’t thank you enough, Emma,” Liam confessed, going right in with his feelings and surprising Emma with his sincere tone. She was so shocked really that she didn’t know how to play things, and so she went with what she knew best: a little bit of sass, and a fair amount of humor.

“Really? You haven’t even tried the cake yet. I could be a terrible baker.” At the words Liam laughed heartily himself but he shook his head as he did.

“That’s not what I was saying, though I trust Killian’s instincts and from all the praise he’s had for your cooking I’ve no doubts in my mind. Good thing too because he’s mostly hopeless in that kitchen.” Emma bit her lip at the reminder of Killian’s less developed skill set, but then Liam sobered and continued on. “I meant for all you’ve done for my brother. You’ve made him happy. Really happy. Truth be told I’ve never seen my brother this way, not even when we were kids, and I’m grateful to have the chance to now.”

“It’s a mutual thing,” Emma admitted as she peered back towards the doorway where she could see Killian and Henry getting the cake situated and laughing together. Their bond was on full display and it made her heart feel so full it could burst, but she shook away the happy tears that were forming to look back to Liam. “Killian fits here. It’s like he was always meant to find us.”

“Aye, that’s clear as day,” Liam said thoughtfully, but as Emma continued to watch Killian’s elder brother she noticed a little longing in his eyes where they’d drifted to look across the room.

It was as if Liam wanted to have such a vocation to a place as well, and Emma’s heart went out to him. It had to be hard to have spent one’s whole adult life fighting for a cause and traipsing around the world, and it must be even harder that now he was finally done his only family had come to a distant and remote part of the globe. But Emma didn’t get the chance to ask any more about it as Henry and Killian returned. At that moment the expression Liam had just been sporting faded away fast and instead he had that jovial and cheery face again. In truth he looked downright delighted at the cake before him and Emma was happy to have been any part of making that happen.

“Bloody hell, is this what I think it is?” Liam asked, not believing what he saw.

“Vanilla, vanilla and sprinkles, yeah!” Henry replied, clapping his hands together and then shaking them as if to say ‘ta da!’

“Wow, I haven’t had this since we were kids,” Liam mused and he looked up to Killian to share a silent thought that Killian put to words.

“Not since Mum was alive,” Killian said softly and Liam nodded but then he laughed as if a memory had flittered in through all the emotion.

“You know why she made this right?” Liam asked and Killian shook his head. “Because it was the only one she could get right. Even out of a box she never got the hang of any meal that needed time in an oven. Not that we cared though. Cake is cake.”

“You think that now, but be warned brother, my Swan is about to ruin you for all other baked goods.”

“Is that right?” Liam asked with a raised brow at his brother, no doubt because of the way he’d so openly labeled Emma as ‘his.’ Then he looked to Emma who just shrugged, trying to play it as cool as she could though she was filled with a flooding sense of pride at the compliment.

“What can I say? When he’s right he’s right.”

They all laughed at that, but when Liam did dig in, Killian’s hyperbolic claims were mostly proved right. He did enjoy the cake, much to Emma and Henry’s shared happiness, and everything that came thereafter over the course of this introductory meeting went better than Emma ever expected. It was truly a fun and enjoyable night, and when it was time to say goodbye, Emma was sorry to be leaving not just Killian but his funny, charismatic brother as well.

“I’m absolutely certain I’ll be seeing far more of you two,” Liam said as Killian and he walked Emma and Henry to the door. “And I’ll have to take you up on that tour of Storybrooke, lad. I can sense you’re the right man for the job.”

“Awesome! I won’t let you down, Liam,” Henry said and then he hugged Liam and Killian before heading out and back to the house, leaving Emma on the front step with the brothers Jones.

“I think this is my queue to make up a fake excuse to leave you two alone, but you’ll have to forgive me. With all the travel today I’m fresh out of white lies to give,” Liam teased and Killian pushed at his shoulder playfully before Liam waved goodbye and headed in again.

“Not exactly the way I saw tonight going, if I’m honest,” Killian said when they were finally alone and Emma looked to him immediately, wondering what he could have possibly found lacking.

“Really? I thought it was a pretty great night.”

“Oh it was, love,” Killian agreed as he pulled her into his arms and close enough to kiss. “But for it to be truly great it would have to end with us together.”

“Hmm,” Emma hummed out as she trailed her fingertips along the cotton of his shirt. “You make a good point. But you’ve told me before that you love a challenge, and from what I can tell this is one we can probably overcome.”

Killian muttered that there was no probably about it before pulling her in for a searing kiss. In the face of such a rush of desire and attraction Emma totally forgot that they were out there for anyone to see under the light of the moon and the front porch lantern, and she wanted to melt into this forever. But the time did come when reason returned, and Killian pulled back, smiling at her and leaving her with that gravelly, sexy as sin voice of his.

“How was that for the time being, Swan?” he asked and Emma chuckled.

“It was perfect,” she said, and with one last soft kiss pressed against his lips, she slipped away back into the house, closing the front door behind her and leaning her forehead against the cool wood.

For a moment she stood there, soaking in the lingering tingles of feeling that the kiss had sparked within her, but then a sound of a clearing throat came from behind her and Emma jumped, turning to see Henry looking pleased as could be.

“So what do you think?” Henry asked jovially and Emma smiled, shaking her head and leading Henry upstairs to bed.

“I think as far as brothers go, he’s a pretty fantastic brother to have,” Emma admitted.

“You know I could go for a brother,” Henry said then, shocking Emma with the casual way he dropped that hint. “Or a sister. I’m not picky.”

Emma was working so hard to act normal in the face of that announcement, and it was pretty freaking amazing that her jaw didn’t drop all the way to the floor. How Henry could keep doing this to her she didn’t know, but she was so taken aback by the way he so easily envisioned a future that Emma herself wanted. Some kids might have been scared of a family expanding or someone new joining the ranks of a duo that had worked so well for so long, but Henry wasn’t like that. He was a dreamer and ever the optimist, which made it impossible to answer him without emotion clogging her throat as she did.

“I’ll keep that in mind, kid. But for tonight it’s just us and I think it’s about time we get to bed.”

Henry agreed to that, going through his nightly routine and then saying he loved her before slipping off to bed. But it wasn’t as easy for Emma to do give way to sleep when she walked across the second floor to the other end of the house where her bedroom resided. She was restless now, and part of it was what Henry had just said to her, but part of it was something deeper.

When Killian had made that comment before about how a truly great night required them to be together, Emma had totally understood that. Those were her best nights, the ones where she slept soundly and felt the most comfortable and safe, and the ones where she felt truly whole. But alas, that wasn’t in the cards for them this evening, and Emma had just turned off the light in her room and surrendered herself to a long night of staring at the ceiling when she heard a soft thud at her window. A few seconds later there was another, and then another, and when Emma realized what it could be she couldn’t help but smile.

“God he can’t really be this cheesy, can he?” Emma asked aloud into the darkness, but when she got back up and moved to the window she saw Killian was in fact doing what she thought (which though corny was admittedly very cute). He was standing there under her window, throwing up tiny pebbles at her window pane and Emma bit her lip to keep from beaming down at him before sending him a gesture that she’d be down in just a minute. She was surprised though when he shook his head and then began climbing up the tree.

Throwing open her window, Emma was shocked at his actions. Was he seriously climbing up to her second floor bedroom right now like some rebellious teen? Emma couldn’t imagine why he would but he was, and Emma found herself automatically trying to help with his daring stunt by tossing in some tiny magical flourishes that emboldened the tree he was scaling so that each branch would be strong enough to hold the man she loved on his journey up to her.

“Killian, what are you doing?” Emma asked when they were face to face and he grinned in that sometimes boyish way that he had, which made any resistance on her part fade away.

“Putting us both out of our misery. Don’t tell me you weren’t missing me, love. I know you were.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with an air of feigned hesitation, but then he was in her room and had her in his arms carrying her to the bed and she confessed in a ragged whisper the truth. “Okay definitely.”

“That’s what I thought, Swan,” he said as he pulled back just long enough to close the window.

With a flick of her wrist and a silently cast spell that she’d grown used to using recently, Emma enacted the protections she’d put in place the first night Killian stayed here. It was all rather complicated to explain the logistics of the noise cancelling spell, and the original incantation design had been really involved and required a lot of creativity on her part, but now it was a normal tool in Emma’s arsenal and the result was basically a silent sort of alarm that would go off if Henry woke at any time in the night and tried to find her here in her room.

“But what about Liam?” Emma asked, knowing it was silly, but wanting to hear Killian’s take on this all the same as he came back to the bed and moved above her, surrounding her in the scent of him and the warmth he always brought to the surface of her life.

“My brother’s a grown man and he’s spent time in far worse encampments than that house. Besides, I’ll be sure to slip out early enough so he and Henry are none the wiser.”

Emma ran her hand along Killian’s chest, knowing that everything he said made sense, but part of her wondered if they had to even pretend at all. Some day this was going to be permanent, right? At least that’s what she was hoping. There would come a day eventually when Killian didn’t have to sneak back to his house in a tamer version of the walk of shame, and sharing a bed like this was just a part of their every day. And tonight with Henry’s talk of other kids and loving Liam and Killian, Emma felt like she’d taken one step closer to being ready for that. The only question was how would they get there, and how much longer would she have to be patient for that to be their normal reality?

“Whatever thoughts are flitting through that brilliant mind of yours, Emma, I promise we’ll make them happen.”

“Even if you have no idea what they are?” Emma asked smiling and pulling him even closer so he was just a whisper away from a kiss.

“Aye, love, for clearly they would bring you happiness and that’s all I could ever want.”

Unable to take his sweet and heartfelt promises anymore, Emma pulled Killian down for a passionate kiss and tried to pour the overflow of emotion she had into this embrace. Her feelings that had only been growing more and more as the months went on sparked like wildfire and suddenly her whole body flared with a need to take this further faster. Her patience was wearing thin, and she knew Killian was aware of that as he followed her every lead to get the clothes that still separated the two of them discarded with as much grace as possible. This was a dance they were growing more used to, but that didn’t change the fact that Emma’s heart was beating wildly or that her imagination was running in a million directions of all the ways they could sate this need tonight.

Every look, every touch, and every kiss were continued reminders for Emma that what she and Killian had found was real and worth fighting for. She clawed closer for purchase, wanting to be as close as she could, but it just wasn’t enough. To feel this connected was a rush that frayed every nerve in her system but in a fantastically glorious way, and she was caught up at once in this haze of silken pleasure and this raw and glaring awareness all at once.

“God I wish there were words for this. I wish I had a way to tell you all that you do to me, Swan,” Killian said at one point against her neck before he nipped at the spot that always adored attention most.

Emma groaned into the action, her eyes closing as she just tried to feel, but it was still nearly too much. Killian was everywhere at once, with roaming hands, heated words, and kisses that left her breathless as he graced each one upon her skin, but he also wasn’t where she needed him most. It was torture and heaven all at once and though Emma arched up, trying to instruct him as to what she wanted, she needn’t have bothered since Killian always knew her desires even before she did.

In keeping with his constant quest of granting her anything she could want, Killian’s wickedly placed nips and sucks moved lower to the slope of her breasts where one of his hands had been teasing for sometime. The addition of that masterfully talented mouth of his into the fray of all of the already blindingly sweet sensations had Emma already toeing the edge of the line between collectedness and shattering into climax, so all it took was the lazily drawn motion of his other hand down the curves of her body and to the most sensitive parts of her that were desperate for his touch. One swirl of his thumb against her clit and she was falling over, biting back the cry of his name that she would have given into if this wasn’t a stolen moment in the dark of a quiet night.

At some point in that onslaught, Emma’s eyes had closed again as she’d melted into the feeling of such beautiful wanting, but when she was spent she lazily opened them again. How she was ever supposed to rebound from something like that she didn’t know, but with Killian it would happen. He always found a way to keep giving when it came to her, and though it seemed impossible right now, she knew it was only a matter of time before he had her gasping and panting and shaking for more all over again.

“There’s nothing in the world as beautiful as that smile of yours, love,” Killian said as his eyes looked upon her face and Emma realized she was smiling. She hadn’t even noticed before, but her grin grew at his words of adoration and she ran her fingertips along his jaw with gentle care. “I swear it could get a man through the darkest of days, and as long as he had that to come home to it would all be worth it.”

Emma’s heart leaped at the comment and her hand stilled for just a moment as her silent thoughts went scattering all about asking a dozen different questions simultaneously. Did he realize what he’d just said about associating home with her? Could he picture a home with her and Henry here? Or was she reading too much into things in the heat of the moment and attributing ideas to Killian that didn’t actually exist in his mind yet? But finally Emma shook those thoughts away, grounding herself back in this moment which was so perfect it deserved her full attention.

“You make it impossible not to love you when you say things like that,” Emma confessed and Killian��s smile widened at that as a deep chuckle reverberated from his chest through her.

“I mean every word I say to you, Emma, as you well know. But honestly I’m not too proud to admit that wooing you into an undeniable love is my sincerest hope. I have to make myself totally irresistible, and then you’ll never want to leave.”

His words sparked something in Emma and she took him by surprise when she flipped their positions suddenly so she was now hovering above him. It made her almost giddy to see the look of shock on his face then melt into understanding and a fierce need too, but she had things to say before she got too sidetracked by the racy thoughts she saw flitting through his mind right now.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve already achieved that. I’m not going anywhere, Killian, and I know you aren’t either.”

“Never,” he promised immediately. “I’m yours, Emma. Now and always.”

What more was there to say that couldn’t be expressed in a physical form of mutual satisfaction, and with this understanding between them, Emma intended to chase that. She allowed herself some heated perusals of her own and a fair bit of teasing in the hopes that she’d drive Killian as crazy as he made her only minutes ago, but it backfired slightly by getting her riled up all over again. Soon she was caving to what they both wanted, lining herself up until they were perfectly matched and he filled her completely over and over again. She tried to stave off her climax as long as she could, but all it took was a plea from the man she loved and she was there crashing into bliss with Killian right behind her.

For a while things were a little out of focus and everything was cast in a golden kind of hue for Emma as she once again found herself trying to regroup after something so amazing that it literally rocked her world. But when she was back again, and she felt the security and sureness of Killian’s arms wrapped around her in a comforting embrace, Emma also noticed that same happy hum of her magic brimming just under the surface. This time though, she wasn’t scared in the slightest of what might manifest in its presence, for she knew this was just a part of being with someone who she truly loved and who truly loved her back.

In truth whatever magic lay in store for them come morning, and whatever gifts this love of theirs would bring their way in the days and weeks to come, Emma knew it would all be lovely and beautiful and worth preserving. And as long as she and Killian kept choosing each other and finding their way back to this perfect place, everything would work out in the end. That was simply fate’s design, and Emma fell asleep that night smiling at the notion that she was living her destiny and finally following the path she was always meant to find that would bring her the joy and the light and the love she’d wanted as long for as she could remember.

Post-Note: So originally I was hoping that I might get to have Liam and Elsa meet in this chapter because I have a heart made of pure fluff and I just wanted to write that so bad. But unfortunately my muse has been stubborn and we’ll have to wait for next time. Not that I mind too much though. It’s always cathartic to write scenes where Emma and Liam meet and they get along because that’s so far from what happened in the show. Anyway, next chapter as I have hinted will bring Thanksgiving celebrations, which will put Liam in the orbit of all of the friends. Since it’s a holiday chapter, you can also all expect lots of feels in the best way. So with that being said, I thank you all for reading, and I hope you have a fantastic rest of your day!

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astorytotellyourfriends · 7 years

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i'm not the anon but i was wondering how did witch nick and witch louis meet? how did it go?

oooh that’s a good question!! see, originally i didn’t think that far ahead (behind?? idk) so this is all going to be off the top of my head BUT… here’s what i’ve been thinking. i think @magicalrocketships might be interested in this, as well.

so part of me wonders if they’ve been living in the same town their whole lives. is it a witch-friendly town? judging by the fact that liam obviously went to nick’s on the advice of someone he trusts (i was thinking niall, for obvious reasons, i just didn’t manage to fit in a mention of him) so it must be a relatively NORMAL thing to go to a witch for help. i’m imagining something along the lines of the film practical magic, only without the town-wide stigma. like, people just show up at nick’s or louis’ asking for help in their love lives or their every day lives, whatever they might need help with.

BUT!!! WHAT IF NICK’S THE NEWBIE???

what if… louis has been living in this town from the time she was a baby! born into the tomlinson coven (which may or may not carry a certain stigma of not being able to keep a man around…) as the first daughter of jay tomlinson, resident mama witch. matron witch? idk. i clearly need to do some more research on witchy terms but ANYWAY, AS I WAS SAYING: imagine louis growing up in a household full of witches. all of them learning the craft and honing their own special talents. what’s louis’ talent, you ask? well, she’s always been handy with love spells for everyone except herself.

so then imagine if one day, nick moves into town and sets up shop. maybe jay sends louis over with one or two of her sisters to introduce themselves and welcome nick to the neighborhood, as a show of friendly good faith. maybe louis is assuming nick is going to be some elderly old woman or something, with the way her mum’s talked about her. she doesn’t really want to go over and make nice with some old lady, but her mum asks nicely, so she drags lottie and fizzy with her so if all else fails, she can make up an excuse about having to get them home.

but then. nick opens the door and louis sees that she’s not an old woman at all but AN UNREASONABLY ATTRACTIVE WOMAN WHO CAN’T BE MUCH OLDER THAN LOUIS HERSELF AND LOUIS FORGETS HOW TO SPEAK. maybe nick gets a little confused and mistakes them for girl scouts or something along those lines, and lottie and fizzy giggle madly when they realize that louis is at a genuine loss for words. louis stammers, hardly even hearing what she’s saying as she’s thrusting the welcome-to-the-neighborhood basket that her mum made up into nick’s hands and quickly running in the other direction, leaving lottie and fizzy standing on nick’s doorstep still giggling.

obviously, louis is horrified with herself.

maybe, after a few days of relentless teasing from lottie and fizzy, she goes back to nick’s cottage. but she can’t work up the courage to go up to the door, so she just ends up circling around the block a few times before she goes back home. and this happens day after day after day after day until FINALLY one day nick literally comes out of her house to greet louis and ask just what the hell she’s doing because nick’s seen her pass by every day and stare at the house but just keep walking.

and instead of explaining herself, louis runs off again.

and maybe this keeps happening, day after day, week after week, until this one weekend where jay and the other girls are going out of town to some sort of celebration in another town and louis has volunteered to stay behind to mind the house and be on hand for any potential customers.

so maybe then louis gets an idea: she could invite nick over to get to know her better. get nick on her territory so she feels safer, more confident. it’s the perfect plan!! … until nick says no.

#THIS GOT RIDICULOUSLY LONG OH MY GOD #AND I COULD PROBABLY GO ON AND ON ABOUT THIS #WHO KNEW I WOULD LOVE THIS VERSE SO MUCH #oh lord what have i done #witch fic #answered #Anonymous #tomlinshaw

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pixelonline · 7 years

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(I am so sorry, mobile users. This is really long.)

My Mass Effect Andromeda thoughts:

1. I was gonna stream the trial, but proceeded to use almost all 10 hours at once because I couldn’t stop playing. I suppose this is a good thing. I’m definitely streaming it once it’s actually out.

2. I hate the character customization. Mass Effect has always been ugly as fuck when it comes to making characters, but my dudes it is 2017 what is going on here.

2a. Side note but I laughed for like 15 minutes that there is only one “White People” face and it is honestly the ugliest thing. Cool feature (sorta not but I’m viewing it as a positive) is that there are designated skin tones with each face set. Speaking of sets, all facial features are stuck to a specific preset face. You can slightly move them, but there’s no changing. I’m hoping this is just for the trial, as other things in the game were locked off until it’s official release.

2b. so many pony tails. no undercut. despite reports saying that hairstyles would be less militaristic as you’re not a soldier, they’re more or less the same. let me be the woman i want to be dammit. There were braids, but only one style. Still double the representation compared to previously I guess? I have very much so white people hair so I don’t feel comfortable having an opinion on that subject. I will say that the braids are exclusive to fem!Ryder and m!Ryder gets 2 different textured styles. I, personally, cannot wait for the beautiful mod community to fix this hair travesty, both with representation variation and all these fucking ponytails. Maybe they can make something happen with the faces, but I hold little hope. They had “alt” hair colors, so it’s already way better than ME Original Trilogy. My Ryder has blue hair, because of course she does. There’s not much shade difference in the colors available, and some of the unnatural colors were, in fact, so unnatural looking that it was hard to accept as a hair color. dyed hair doesn’t reflect light the way it did in game and it didn’t look like much shade variation between the strands so it occasionally looked like the hair hadn’t actually finished rendering. The color selection suggested a more soft ombre look than was actually present.

3. I like that you can customize your twin also, but limits on the CC still drives me crazy. Male hair diversity isn’t super, like I said before, but it just felt like more than the female counterpart. I just really, really hate ponytails you guys.

3a. In your CC options, you can pick story bits. The only options that connect to the previous games is a selection between your Shepard having been male or female. I suppose that’s so pronouns are correct later on.

4. Prologue: I feel it takes too long, the tutorial is honestly not that great. SAM, your AI, is down for most of it, so you have no idea what anything is. It was fine at first, adding to the worldbuilding and urgency and whatnot but it got irritating by the 30th “unknown” enemy.

5. The Omni-Scanner is a neat addition, but it felt sort of...forced at times. More on that later.

6. The prologue story is okay. The ending of it, and the beginning of the actual game, was actually pretty dramatic and I didn’t expect it given the hype around certain characters that Bioware has tried to generate.

6a. Dad Ryder seemed really one dimensional with his kid. Like, never referred to them affectionately even at the last bit. This is sort of explained when you go to his room later, but it felt really hollow to me as a whole. Cool dad fact: CC of your Ryder and their twin decides what Dad looks like. Mine had obscenely blue eyes but grey hair.

6b. Evil dude looked really sad during his introduction and I wanted to be friends with him. This feels like a failed attempt at showing off the ominous silent bad guy, as I immediately started rooting for him. You go, evil dude, touch the stuff and let your dreams be true.

7. I hate the weapon interface. Inventory functions like ME1, allowing you to see the items you’ve picked up (both upgrades and actual weapons) but you cannot equip them. I couldn’t until the first mission after getting my ship. Which is terrible, as I got a sniper rifle I wanted to use and couldn’t for the prologue portion.

8. The Hyperion’s travel system is awful. There’s very little instruction about it. The tram looks as if it’s a one way thing, from the ark to the new citadel-like port, but in actuality you use it to travel around the ark itself too. Didn’t notice until my camera turned slightly to the right and another thing on the board was selectable.

8a. Not travel related, but you do get more info about the ending of the prologue and a new ongoing mission on the Hyperion. It felt like a bit of a slap. It’s all “Here’s this cool new power and a friend BUT ALSO FUCK YOU JON SNOW YOU KNOW NOTHING and you’ll never find out until you go look for these things randomly around. But not around here! Fuck you twice!” It was clearly created to push the story more later on, which is all fine and good, it just ticked me off at this moment.

9. The new Citadel is a goddamn mess. I’m not a huge fan of it right now, though what I’m 100% sure will happen is that as you make more homesteads, the place gets nicer until you’re at endgame and have a fully functional hub. I’ll like it more once it starts changing. It looks like it has really good potential. I hope it functions more than the keep in DA:I, and your choices really DO have an effect on what is opened up and how the society there builds itself.

9a. The Original Trilogy made each race very distinct, with their own speech patterns and everything. I didn’t really get that from this game’s other races. The Salarians didn’t speak in fast bursts with lots of words jammed together, and the Turians more often than not didn’t have that robotic twinge to their speech, and weren’t all that hostile. It seems unlikely to me that there wouldn’t be any left over anger as they left for Andromeda seeing as it’s possible some actually fought in the first contact war. It is about 30 years apart. It was something constantly prevalent in the previous trilogy, which every NPC lived during (at least ME1)

9b. I do, however, love super not Krogan Krogan lady. She’s perfect and I wish I could romance her. You do talk about the genophage. Sucks that she and her clan have no idea that there’s been a cure for over 500 years now.

10. The ship, Tempest, is really nice. I always felt like Normandy was very irritating to navigate around. ME1 especially, but 3 wasn’t so hot either. This one isn’t as large, but it has a really nice flow that I liked. Pathfinder quarters were way better than Shepard’s.

10a. It has a system like the Dragon Age: Inquisition war table where you have timed missions that NPC complete for materials, items, and intel. Seems interesting, but I didn’t see one to completion. They’re still running.

10b. the R&D table is interesting, and I like the separation between the two, but it didn’t feel like a huge asset so early in the game.

11. The traveling system is beautiful. Visually it gets 100% approval. However, it’s extremely slow paced. any selection of a new planet or system takes you back to where you were originally, lets you stare at it a moment, then flies you to the next place where you zoom in for another moment before zooming out and then FINALLY getting information about it. It’s nice, but by the 12th time I was incredibly tired of it.

12. Your Salarian pilot is cool. Not especially Salarian-like, but still I liked him. Cannot kiss. I tried.

13. Material gathering is kind of limited. You scan a whole system, and you have the option to scan planets, but there’s not much point to it as SAM tells you if there’s something worth scanning there. Usually it’s a single deposit of a mineral.

14. I hated the MAKO in ME1, but this one isn’t so bad. I think it helps knowing that I can customize it later.

15. Speaking of customization, you can change the colors of your casual clothes and your armor. It’s the same color selection tool as in CC, so it’s awful. The dial to change the color overlaps with the bubble to select the actual shade so there’s a lot of trial and error involved. Once again, no indication that [SPACE] is necessary to confirm your color choices. I hate the whole design of it.

16. You do meet some companions that you’ll pick up, but you barely interact with them. Good intros though. Really gave them personality right off the bat.

17. ROMANCE: Being fem!Ryder is rough at the start.

17a. Gil is one of the ship’s crew. He’s one of the few genuinely attractive males in all of Mass Effect’s history. As a woman, you can flirt with him, but he turns you down solidly. He’s kind, but firm. He states that he’s interested in men. Which is awesome, because now I have a reason to play a male Ryder after my first play through is done. Female Ryder apologizes, nothing is weird (unlike other interactions) and it actually made me like him more as a character.

17b. Liam kind of blows off your advances but it definitely felt like a rejection. As he wasn’t very clear, I don’t know if he’s a bi character that you have to develop a friendship with first, or if he’s gay and just doesn’t want to come out to your Ryder. I didn’t like the wishy-washiness of the interaction but we’ll just have to see what’s what when the full game is out.

17c. Doc. I forgot her name, so now she’s Doc. I knew this interaction wouldn’t go well, as I’ve read articles about it. She definitely turns you down because you’re a patient. I’ve read that she has a crush on the Krogan that joins you, so is he not a patient too? Either way, she’s very professional about it and as with Gil it made me appreciate her character. Knowing that it’s Natalie Dormer and I’ll never hear her tell me she loves me hurts me deep in my soul though. Why does the world hate me like this???

17d. Blonde biotic woman with the goddamn hair that I want on my Ryder. Cora. I don’t like her. You have the option to hit on her early on, and her reaction felt really awful to me. She gets kind of hostile and all “I already told [person you never met] that I’m not interested in women and I’m telling you too.” Like, ok. Damn. You aren’t my type anyways. I just wanted to see the option play out. 0/10 poor way to handle the interaction. I’m not super fond of the Asari commando thing either. Jack was a kickass biotic too and she was treated like a monster. This woman gets to take part in something very culturally specific like it’s nbd? jnasdlfknasdivhbna, not a fan of her. She looks somewhere between confused and murderous all the time. Also, she walks like Stretch Armstrong. It makes me laugh.

17e. Vetra. The only individual that actually reacts positively to fem!Ryder flirting with her. Even then she really only takes it like a compliment. But, as I love Vetra and much like Garrus I would die for her from first glance, I’ll take it. I think it’ll be a beautiful relationship. She’s also really tall. And pretty. One thing I thought was strange with her is that it always looks like she’s posing when she’s just standing around. One hip is thrust out and her arms are crossed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they rigged her to always be in mysterious seductress pose.

17f. I couldn’t flirt with the pilot. Let me kiss the Salarian, damn you Bioware. Also, our nice Scottish friend Suvi can’t be flirted with, but she sounds really soothing to talk to. I’m def a fan of all these non-American, thicker than previously heard, accents on the ship. The Original Trilogy was full of light British accents or full on American. Sort of hard to believe the Alliance was multinational when everyone spoke like they were from the US.

18. Combat: I mostly use the sniper rifle and the pistol. Pistol was nice. I love the sniper rifle in this game. Other ME games it was hard for me to confirm headshots but this one was a clean and clear animation. Very nice. The companion AI was strange at times, as they’d just use their abilities but in odd places so the skills would get stuck in corners or just go off to nowhere. There was combat stutter on the first planet you can visit but I think that’s more my graphics card. The update refuses to finish so I’m stuck 2 updates behind where I should be.

I have, like, an hour I think left so I’m gonna try to rush through a male Ryder play and see how companion reactions differ. I’m really only in this for the romance, you know.

#hail the platypi #mass effect andromeda #pixel plays andromeda #pixel talks gaming

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