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sherifftillman · 9 months

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Worth the Wait

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!bartender!Reader Genre: smut Tags:Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv (pulling out) Summary: Your favourite customer has a confession to make, that he's very eager to. You wish you could believe him - if only he weren't drunk every time he saw you. Word count:7.1k A/N: God, this fic's been a long time in the making! I started writing it months ago, but then @choke-me-eddie wrote the phenomenal Jack Daniels and Coke and I gave myself massive imposter syndrome for ages lol, but one day I was going through my WIPs folder and something told me to start this up again. So, here it is! PS: the amount of time i spent on making that gif look like he's getting himself off for more than like 4 frames before feckin roof gets in the way, as naturally as i could get it, is between me and god. 😂

“Hello again, gorgeous,” your favourite voice slurs from the other side of the bar.

You see big, warm brown eyes greet you along with the biggest grin you’ve seen all day and your heart melts, despite the pang of disappointment. “Hello yourself, sweetheart. Back to drown more of your troubles?”

“Can I not just come over to my favourite pub and chat to my favourite barmaid, with no ulterior motive?” he pouts, leaning an elbow on the bar so he can rest his chin on his fist, a trademark pose for Tom.

“Not when you’re already pretty wavy,” you point out with raised eyebrows, wafting the air in front of him. “I can smell the Fosters on you a mile off. Didn’t take you for a piss drinker.”

He pulls a face, “Weren’t my doing, honest. Some of the blokes at work decided to get together an’ have dinner somewhere, an’ they bought everyone a pint each without asking us. I had to sneak in a couple of shots to take the taste away and then they bought another, so I had to drink even more.”

“Your life is so hard, babe,” you pout patronisingly, and he sticks his tongue out at you in response. You pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. “Here. On the house, and that’s a deal only my favourite customers get.”

He looks at you disbelievingly. “As if water isn’t free for everybody, good one.” You smile back at him with just as much snark as he’s giving you as he drinks it all down in one go, and you take the excuse to watch his throat bob while he’s distracted.

You’ve always had a soft spot for Tom. Ever since the poor sod ended up at your pub following the break-up between him and his childhood sweetheart. You’d heard it all about Ruth, and her new friend Jade, and all of the accusations Ruth would make against Tom just to turn around and do the very same to him with Jade. The last time he visited became a real turning point, when he’d gotten especially drunk and admitted to you that he’d been questioning his attraction to her, himself.

“I don’t even know what it was that turned me off, you know. Or maybe it was never even there.”

“Well, is she your type? What kind of person are you usually into?”

“Pretty girls. Like you,” he drawled, resting his chin on his fist.

“Nice try, Mr Grant. I’d believe you if you weren’t so wasted,” you smirked.

“Ooh, Mr Grant, so formal. How’d you know that, anyway?”

“Your last name? Let’s see, your ID, your bank card… ’S not that difficult to find out.”

“Yeah, but you remembered it. I think you fancy me, too,” he grinned smugly.

“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shook your head, and he pouted at you.

“Not even gonna tell me? Tease.”

“Even if I did, there’s no way you’d remember in the morning, so there’s no point, is there?” you shrugged.

“Bet I would. I’d never forget something if it were about you,” he simpered.

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach and managed to keep your composure as you replied, “Alright, then, if you still feel the same way about me, but stone cold sober, I’ll give you my number. But only then.”

Tom had wanted to stay true to his promise so badly. He’d wanted nothing more than to just sit and watch you work and flirt relentlessly with you. No liquid courage needed. But of course it was Barry’s birthday, and Barry wanted all the lads together for dinner. Tom had felt honoured to finally be included as one of the lads, but it came at a price. A price that he felt too tipsy to then go back to his caravan, all alone with his thoughts. Only one person usually made him feel better in this state. And he’d promised you a sober confession. Yet here he was, giving you the exact opposite.

“Can I ’ave another one?” he asks, holding the glass out to you.

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, lightly lilting, “Alright, but soon enough, I am gonna have to start charging you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Water don’t cost nothing, though. We already established that, remember?” Still in his hand, he taps the empty glass against his head as you take out a fresh one for him.

“So, maybe I’ll have to think of other ways to have you pay for my efforts,” you smirk, putting the water down and resting your hands on your edge of the bar, shifting your weight onto your wrists.

“Oh, yeah?” Tom leans forward, intrigued, a coy smile playing on his lips. “What’s that, then?”

You wrinkle your nose, "Depends what you've got to offer."

"Just. This," Tom states as he steps back and gestures at himself with both hands, the slur that’s still present in his voice betraying him.

You sigh. "Remember the rule, Tommy boy," you waggle your eyebrows at him, and he groans.

"Yeah. I know,” he pouts as he grabs the glass with a frustrated force and starts chugging again.

You look at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s always next time, eh.”

~~~

“So, let me get this straight,” your best friend stops you, looking up in disbelief at the location you’d chosen. “You decided to get us all to meet up for drinks, for your birthday, and we could have gone anywhere. And you choose your work?!”

“Well, yeah, I’m not allowed to use my staff discount while I’m on shift, obviously, so why not take advantage of it on my big day, eh?!” You grin.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you put up with me,” you rest your chin on her shoulder, still beaming from ear to ear as you both stumble into the pub together.

“Ooh, Tommy the Tank Engine at 2 o’clock,” your best friend giggles, pointing over at a group of men that, sure enough, includes Tom himself.

“Don’t point, dickhead!” You hush, grabbing her hand and shoving it back to her side. “Oh, bless him, look at him. Now, listen, you cannot let me get so drunk that I make a tit of myself in front of him, okay? I’ve got a - you know, a -” You wave your hand around in front of you, trying to think of a word. “Not quite reputation, but you know what I mean. A thing we’ve got.”

“I don’t think that I do,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you mean, like… Because you’ve told him you’ll only believe him if he’s sober, you don’t wanna flirt with him while you’re drunk.”

“You get me,” you smile wistfully as you lean against her, cuddling up to her.

Giggling again, she shoves you away. “Gerroff, unless you really wanna give him the wrong impression! Besides, I say go for it, anyway. Ride that train,” she mimics pulling a steam train whistle and you scold her as you shove her towards the bar.

You meet up with the rest of your friends and have a shot with them. One of your regulars wishes you a happy birthday and buys you another. One of your coworkers gives you another one on the house.

You’ve totally forgotten who else was even here, until after your best friend insists on buying you your favourite cocktail, and as you shuffle between other people waiting at the bar to let others get out, you feel your back collide with the solid weight of someone else’s chest, followed by an all-too-familiar, “Easy, tiger!”

You take a deep breath in and look at your best friend in bewilderment before steeling yourself and pivoting to look at Tom, “Oh my god, hi! I’m so sorry!”

“’S alright. Someone’s having a good night, aren’t they?” He smiles down at you.

“It’s her birthday, you know!” Your best friend shouts over at him, and he gives a thoughtful frown back, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I did not know that, as a matter of fact! S’pose I better do my rightful duty and get the birthday girl a drink, too, shouldn’t I?”

“Trying to get me drunk, now, are ya? I see your game, Mr Grant,” you tease, earning a sly grin from him and a side-eye from your best friend.

“Fair’s fair, you’ve seen me plastered enough times,” he waggles his eyebrows at you. “What’s your poison, ladies?”

Tom buys both yours and your best friend’s drinks for you, and orders something for himself while your friend sneaks away to leave you both to it, though you don’t realise it. You frown when you see Tom pick up a full pint glass of Coke and point at it. “Big glass for a mixed drink.”

“Yeah. Almost as though it isn’t,” he smirks, moving his glass to chime it against yours. “Happy birthday, love.”

Though your heart sinks at the idea that he really did try to keep to his word tonight, you decide to keep up the playful rapport the two of you know so well. Punctuating your first three words each with a poke to the middle of his chest, you grin slyly, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to see me drunk, for once.”

Running two of his fingers alternately up your shoulder at his first three words, he mimics your tone, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to touch me.” He rests his wrist on your shoulder, and the fingertips that ghost the skin on your back send shivers all through you.

“Says the man who’s keeping his arm there,” you reply with a smug lipped smile, and he shrugs, that fake frown making another appearance on his face.

“Alright, I guess if you don’t want it,” he slides his arm away from you tantalisingly slowly, his eyes locked onto yours the whole time. You whimper involuntarily, your voice betraying you, when his fingertips are the only thing dragging against you. With a proud chuckle, he rests the heel of his hand back on your shoulder again, his fingertips leaving goosebumps where they ghost against the skin left exposed from the strap of your dress. “You should really get back to your friends now.”

“Not without you,” you pull a face at him, “not after all this! You bought the two of us a drink, remember, you can’t just leave us now!”

He smiles in quiet pride. “What would I tell all my mates, eh? That I’m abandoning them?”

“They can come over, too!” you counter. “My friends won’t mind, they’d love extra company.”

“Why, do you plan on being distracted all night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you again.

“Where’s this Tom been hiding then, anyway, eh?” you buffer his question with your own. “How come I don’t see this version of you when I’m sober? Am I that intimidating?”

“Ooh, yeah, dead scary,” Tom answers sarcastically, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, but he laughs when you waggle your fingers in a jokingly haunting manner.

“Will you at least drink with me, so I’m not the only one making an arse of myself?” you pout, trying to give him your best doe eyes.

“But then who will be here to document all your arse-ry?” Tom starts, but you interrupt.

“That’s not a word!”

“Piss off, drunky, how do you know?” he teases, laughing at your offended gasp. “No, if you’re gonna make a scene, I wanna make sure my head is crystal clear so I can lord it over you for the rest of time. As it is, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to embarrass me with tonight,” he flashes his eyes at you as you approach his friend group, waving your own over.

You all eventually commandeer your own corner of the pub, you and Tom sat on one of the old leather sofas as the other is crammed with a mix of both his friends and yours, as well as others being peppered around on regular dining chairs. After asking around, and others insisting that they’re fine where they are, thereby refusing your invitation to join you and Tom on the sofa, your legs start to ache. Not being able to find enough floor space to stretch them out adequately, you simply decide to drape them across Tom’s lap, which he takes to naturally.

He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re there at first, which has your mind turning over and over, until he starts gently, absent-mindedly stroking his fingertips up and down your leg. The tingles that shot through you at his touch earlier return again. He notices your longing stare in his direction and, without moving his head, glances over at you, winks, then looks back at the person he's talking to. The sensation that causes goes straight to your core.

“Whose round is it then?” one of your friends asks, standing just next to the sofa you’re sat on.

Leaning back, you wave her over so that she bends down to you, pulling her head down as close as it’ll get to your face before whispering in her ear, “Could you actually just get me a Coke? Nothing in it?” She nods and you grin at her as she stands tall again. “Oh!” You fish your staff ID out of your bag and hand it over to her. “Don’t forget to use that, don’t go paying full price here if you can help it!”

“Not exactly a great advertisement for this place, are you?” One of Tom’s friends asks amusedly before declaring he’ll buy the drinks in, and you watch as him and your friend go to the bar with the intent to order them - though even once they’re out of your earshot, you still notice that they seem to be distracting themselves.

Tom finally finishes his other conversation and nudges you to ask in an intrigued voice, “What were you two whispering about earlier, then?”

“And why’s that any of your business?” You ask back with a sly smile.

He shrugs, “Dunno, might have been about me.”

"If I was gonna talk about you, I'd say it to you," you grin, leaning to rest your head on the back cushion of the sofa.

"Yeah?" he asks with raised eyebrows. “In front of everyone?”

You shrug, “Depends. You got anything you want to tell me in front of everyone?”

He beckons you close with two fingers - a gesture you try desperately not to fixate on - and leans in close to your ear, cups his hand around it and whispers, "I proper fancy you."

"Yeah, and water's wet," you lean around to raise your eyebrows back at him, giggling as he frowns at you. “Glad to hear it from this version of you, though.”

He can't keep his frowning up for long, though, his own eyebrows soon waggling with anticipation. "Alright, so, c’mon, then. You got anything to say to me?”

You lean in with the intention to whisper back in his ear, but you get distracted by your friend handing you your drink, along with a very knowing look. “You two need a room?” They ask with a smirk.

“Like you two weren’t locking lips over at the bar?” You tease back, flashing your eyes over to Tom’s friend briefly. Laughing it off with you, your friend joins her new companion for the night as you settle yourself in next to Tom.

“Big glass for a mixed drink,” he repeats what you’d said to him earlier with a smug look on his face.

Knowing what he’s doing, you grin back, “Almost as if it isn’t.” Leaning across to grab his own glass again from the table, he clinks it against yours for the second time this evening and takes a big swig, his eyes never leaving yours.

When the pub finally closes, you, Tom, and those of your friends that haven’t already dispersed for the night, decide to make for the first fast-food place you see. One of Tom’s friends even takes advantage of Tom insisting on buying you a burger by holding his lighter on top of it while everyone sings Happy Birthday to you. You spend the last few minutes of your birthday surrounded by friends, old and new, singing and laughing and falling against Tom’s arm while he feeds you fries. Sure, you could have gotten even more drunk, found some other club that was open and danced the night away - but something about this just feels nicer.

Everyone’s figuring out their taxi situations when Tom turns to you. “What about you, which cab are you taking?”

“Neither,” you shake your head, scrunching your face up. He looks at you quizzically, and you hold your hand out in front of you to gesture down the road, moving it around a couple of times to gesture your route home. “Walking distance.”

Just as Tom's about to reply, he's interrupted by his friends yelling at him to get in their cab. He looks over at them and turns his nose up. "Nah, think I'm gonna stick with this one, not sure how much I trust these streets. I'll get my own later, it's fine." You don't hear exactly what his mates say, but the general tone of their collective jeering and grabbing Tom's arm as he bats them away and tells them, “Alright, gerroff!” tells you everything.

They chorus one more happy birthday! to you before Tom shuts the car door on them. You shout back that you'll treat them to a round next time they come into the pub and you can hear their cheers even when the door is shut, which makes you laugh. The pair of you wave both taxis off as they drive away, and you and Tom naturally link arms as you start walking back to your place.

"How you feeling?" he asks.

"Pretty damn good. You keep some decent company," you smile at him.

"What, that gaggle of idiots? Yeah, they're not so bad," he laughs softly. "Good birthday, d'you reckon?"

"Best so far," your smile widens as you hug his arm, leaning your head against it. He rests his head on top of yours, reaching over with his free hand to rub where your two meet around his bicep.

The pair of you make little pockets of small talk in the short walk to your house until you stop in front of it. Tom whistles as he looks it up and down. "What's your pay like at that pub? I'll have to start working there."

You laugh, "Calm down, I just rent out the top floor." You sigh happily. "Come see it, if you like."

"Ooh, inviting me in, eh? So late at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?" Tom teases, making you laugh.

"Oh, shut it," you smirk, shaking your head.

"Well, you are sending me mixed signals, here," Tom widens his face and crosses his arms. "See, I've wore my heart on my sleeve. I've told you what I think of you, many a time, in fact. And yet here you go, stringing a poor boy on, leaving him without a clue how you feel," he rocks himself from side to side, his movements and tone getting more and more extravagant as he keeps talking.

You swat at him playfully, "Shut up, or else you really will wake up the neighbours!" You step closer to him and beckon him closer. As he leans in, you move round to cup your hands over his ear and whisper, "I proper fancy you, too."

“Oh, yeah?” He murmurs seductively, reaching over to stroke his hands up and down your arms. “An’ how can I be so sure of that, drunky?”

“Piss off, I’m sober now,” you make the weakest attempt at shoving his chest, your palms flat against it, but it does nothing to his gait, only making him laugh under his breath. Instead, your hands grab the shirt beneath them as you grin, “C’mere,” and pull him in for a kiss. It’s filled with all the passionate relief of finally getting to do something you’ve both wanted for so long, and it only ramps up the longer you kiss for.

You hum in questioning, breaking away for a second to jerk your head towards your door, and he chuckles between even more kisses as he cradles your face, constantly pulling you back in for more. “Trying to get me inside, are you?”

With a sly smile, you pull back. “Well, if you don’t want to -” You swivel to face the door itself, digging your keys out of your bag, but Tom’s back on you in a flash. His body presses into your form as his hands slide back around your body, down to squeeze your hips, back up to wrap around your breasts, all while he kisses your neck.

You melt into his touch, leaning back to press yourself against him. You allow your hips to sway back and forth, grinding your ass against what is almost certainly a bulge straining against the denim. He hums against your neck, “Don’t even wanna wait ’til we get in? Dirty girl,” he accompanies his last remark by leaning back just enough to reach down and lightly spank your ass cheek, making you gasp audibly. Stepping forward to close the gap again, he nuzzles your ear as he purrs, “Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”

You whine in agreement and he continues nuzzling his nose down past your jaw, ghosting his lips against the sensitive flesh of your neck once again. You hum out a soft moan as you finally wrestle your key into the lock. The pair of you practically fall over each other to get through the door, but you're quick to pin him against it as soon as it shuts, kissing him desperately.

He moans into your mouth, "Oh, fuck, someone's eager, aren't you? Wanna just take me right here and now, huh?" You laugh against his lips as you keep kissing him. He hums back, "Let's see how much you want me, yeah?" as his hand ghosts beneath the skirt of your dress, sliding up your inner thigh to press against your core through your panties.

You whimper into the kiss and he drawls, "Fuck me, you're so wet, already. Thinking about this on the walk here, were you?" He slides a finger up and down the fabric of your underwear as he mutters into the inch of space between your lips. "Or while we were at the pub?" He asks as he presses against your covered clit. You grab at his shirt, where you'd already made a mess of it, and he whispers smugly, "Or have you secretly spent your whole birthday hoping it'd end with this?'

You cry out again, finally finding your voice, "God, please, Tom… Want more.” You look at him with pleading eyes and he chuckles back.

"Mmm, now there's a face that I've been dreaming about. But you were the one to pin me to the door here, so I think I should get to enjoy kissing you a little bit longer, at least," he mutters as he leans back in to resume his embrace.

"Tease," you accuse against him, and he laughs again.

"'M not teasing at all, sweetness, just been waiting so long for this, I wanna take my time an– Yeah, I'm totally teasing you," he grins as he cranes his head to kiss your neck again. You whine in protest, and he deftly moves your panties aside to slide one long middle finger inside of you. “Go on, then, just one, for now. Seeing as it is your birthday, an’ all,” he grins wickedly, but he soon melts against you as you squirm and moan around him. As his posture relaxes, you move your hands onto his shoulders and start pushing, which he points out with an amused, “You try’na tell me something there?”

“I mean, seeing as it is my birthday…” You counter, lilting with an obviously fake nonchalance.

Tom grins as he sinks himself lower. “Yeah, I’ll get on my knees for you, love.” Once he’s knelt at your feet, he feels his way up your thighs, past your dress until his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He looks up at you pleadingly with a soft noise of questioning, soon beaming once you nod in affirmation as he pulls them down to your ankles. He sighs dreamily as he looks up at you. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he breathes out. “Could just stare at you for hours.” You pout at him, and he responds with a cheeky, “Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just -” He sits back on his heels with a small, smug smile, “sit right back here and watch as - oh, someone’s twitchy, aren’t they?” He asks with soft intrigue, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer between your legs.

“Tom, please…” You plead. “Enough teasing, now.”

“Yeah? Alright, then,” he sits up to bury his face into you, his tongue lapping away at the edges of your folds. “Mmm, y’taste so good, babe. So much better’n I imagined. C’mere,” he wraps his arms around your thighs as he carries on eating you out. He starts off so carefully, sweet little kitten licks to your clit and long, slow, drawn out ministrations through your core, but he takes the hint when you whine out in frustration, grab his hair and push his head further in.

He starts fucking you with his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy, especially when he reaches up to rub at your clit in quick circles. You keel over and perch yourself on the door when he switches up to suck on your clit while sinking two fingers into you and curving them. He keeps mumbling into your skin, words you wish you could hear were it not for the blood pumping in your ears, but it seems as though Tom only intends for his compliments to be heard only between him and your cunt.

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and pushes himself up to stand, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He moans as he presses his body against yours, as though the thought of making you taste yourself is turning him on all the more. “Wanna fuck you,” he pants as he presses his forehead to yours. “Please, I wan- need to be inside you, like, now.”

“Not so cocky, now, are you, babe?” you smirk, and he laughs.

“No, miss, just one taste and I’m already wrapped ’round your finger,” he jokes.

You jerk your head behind you, “Think you can wait ’til we get up them stairs?”

Tom steps aside and gestures towards them with an, “After you.”

You laugh as you first kick away the underwear still sitting on your ankles before taking your shoes off, prompting Tom to do the same. He stays behind you as you run up the flight of stairs leading into your living area, though not without another soft smack to your ass as he follows it.

Once you’re back on flat ground, you hold your hand out for him to take, walking backwards as you pull him towards your bedroom, even while the pair of you lock lips once again. You scramble to get his shirt off before you’ve even reached your bedroom door, though every attempt to lean back and admire him is scuppered by him leaning in to keep kissing you, until you practically fall through the doorway.

You guide him over to your bed and push him down onto it. His hands explore your body as you stand between his legs, before sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up over your ass. His hands grip your cheeks roughly as he pulls you closer, craning his neck around to look at it as he plays with it, gently slapping each one alternately as it jiggles and loving the sights and sounds of it. "Fuck, angel, want you so bad," he groans before looking up at you pleadingly. "D'you want me, too?"

Caressing his face gently, you beam, "Get the rest of those clothes off and shuffle back on the bed, and I'll show you." Tom scrambles backwards, wriggling himself free of his jeans and boxers as he does, until he's laying back on your pillows, clothes discarded on your bedroom floor. You slowly strip yourself of your own clothes, too, opting to shimmy your dress down past your hips, really putting on a show for him as you push it over your bare ass, before unclipping your bra, holding it high and dropping it down onto the floor.

You stop for a moment to just enjoy the sight of him, your favourite customer, laying on your bed, biting his lip as he jerks off to the sight of you right in front of you. You whimper as you fall to rest one knee on your mattress, rubbing at your own clit as you watch him, the tip of his cock peeking out through his foreskin with every tug, tantalising you. He looks just a little bigger and just a little wider than you're used to, and you feel your pussy drench beneath you at the thought of him filling you up. "You gonna keep that gorgeous body of yours that far away from me for long, sweetness?" Tom pouts, and you hurriedly climb him like a tree. You go to kiss him once you've straddled him, but he jokingly turns his head aside. “No, no, if you’d rather stay away from me, don’t let me stop you,” he jokes, and you consider playing him at his own game, but you realise the quickest way to get what you want.

Pouting, you lean yourself down onto him, especially making sure you squeeze your breasts against his chest, and croon, “Oh, please, Tom, I need you so bad. ’M sorry I got so distracted by what a pretty cock you’ve got, please let me ride it, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”

Tom slowly turns his head back to look at you, a proud smirk on his face as he lifts his head to place a hand behind it. “Go on, keep begging, that’s my girl,” he drawls, lightly tracing your back with the fingertips of his free hand.

Feeling your heart soar and cunt throb at the sentiment, you whine, grinding your hips against his, "God, Tom… Want you to fuck me so bad, been dreaming about it f'too long, need to feel it now, please? Just for tonight?"

Tom wrinkles his nose. "Dunno about that…" And for a fleeting second, you're filled with a disappointed doubt that he's changed his mind, until he grabs at you and, with a mischievous grin, throws you off to the side, wrestling your giggling self until you're the one laying beneath him. He perches himself on his elbows to hover above you, and playfully and tenderly strokes all around your face before purring happily between kisses, "'M definitely gonna fuck you tonight… But I'm also gonna fuck you in the morning… And again, a little bit after that… And again, after that… Sound good so far?"

You hum happily, "Sounds perfect. But, please can I have your cock inside of me, now? Have I earned it yet?"

"Aww, gonna milk it, pretty girl?" He coos, reaching down to guide his tip between your folds. "Gonna take it all in that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Gonna be good f'me?" You nod, whining desperately as you feel him starting to push into you. "Oh my god," he whimpers as he enters you, kissing you passionately as he fills you. Your hips start to buck down instinctively as he moves, and he tuts, "Fussy girl can't wait?"

You pout your lower lip out, "'M not fussy."

He does the same expression back to you sarcastically. "You're not?" He asks mockingly as he slowly starts pulling out. You grab his shoulders in protest, and that wicked smile of his comes back. "Fuck me, you are dirty, aren't you?" You nod in defeat, and he presses another kiss to your lips. "Good," he beams before sinking himself back into you, filling you up.

Your fingers dig into the supple flesh just above his shoulder blades as your legs wrap around his hips. "Oh, fuck, Tom… So much… Better…"

"Better, eh? So you'd think about me, too? While I spent - mmm - my nights getting off to the - fuck - thought of you, you were - shit - doing the same?" You nod, whining in agreement, and he moans as his thrusts get more frantic. "Fuck, I've wanted you - needed you - for so long, now… Never letting you go, never gonna stop - ah, shit, yes," he groans.

You pout at him, "Not even at least long enough for me to get on all fours?"

He looks at you as though all of his Christmases have come at once. "You want that?"

You nod, biting your lip. "And, since you love it so much, you can pull out and cum on my ass, if you want."

Add all his birthdays at once as well, based on his reaction. "Always knew you were the perfect woman, holy shit," he mutters in awe as he pulls out of you. You turn yourself around to get on your hands and knees, arching your back to present yourself to him, and he grabs at your ass to admire the sight in front of him, and he growls under his breath. A guttural, feral sound that has you clenching around nothing. “Been thinking about this much, then?”

“Oh, only pretty much every time I’m closing up the bar,” you chirp in reply. “Why’d you think I’ve been asking for you to stay sober for a night?”

“Fuck, if this is what one night gets me, I’m going teetotal,” he sighs wistfully, making you giggle.

“What was that line you gave me earlier about keeping that body away from me?” You tease, biting your lip as you anticipate the inevitable spank to your ass cheek with glee.

“Cheeky,” he smirks back as he admires how your skin ripples under his touch, "not so fun when it's the other way around, is it?"

"Does that mean you're gonna beg for me now, then?" You ask hopefully.

Tom pushes your back down enough for him to lean over you entirely to be within whisper distance of your ear. You feel his cock pressing into the crack of your ass as he whimpers, "Oh, please, miss, let me fuck you into oblivion. 'M such a good boy f'you, been waiting all this time to show you, been thinking about this all along. Please give me what I want."

"Yeah?" You moan against your pillow. "Tell me as you're filling me up again."

You feel him start to line his cock up with your pussy from behind as he admits, "Think about the day you'd finally tell me to hang back. I'd sit you on the pool table and eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'til it stains it. Bend you over that bar - that you've been spending months teasing me behind - an' just -" He lets out a long, shaky breath as he pushes his tip inside of you, revelling in the feeling of your cunt immediately pulling him in for more.

"Please, Tom…" you whine. "'S all I think about when I'm closing, too. Can't look anywhere without thinking of how you'd fuck me," you admit half-sheepishly as you rock back onto him.

Tom's hips buck to meet yours as he groans. "God, I've been a fucking idiot, then, haven't I?" He half-laughs.

"'S fine, just - fuck me now, please? Just how you’ve always wanted to?" You beg, crying out in delight as he grabs your hips and starts thrusting frantically into you.

You've always thought it was cliche as all hell when people say that with the right person, it feels as though they're made for you - but Tom barely needs any direction from you to bring you to your apex. He feels right inside of you, he's hitting just the right spots at just the right pace, without you even needing to ask him. And the sounds he makes as he's fucking you, just the knowledge that you're clearly making him feel the same way, turns you on even more.

His moans become more strained, and his grip tightens. "Fuck, babe, need - need to feel you cum so I can - fuck, are you close?"

You whine out an, "Almost. I can get there quicker, though," you start shuffling to reach down between your legs, but Tom bats your hand away.

"Please, allow me," he smirks as he strokes your clit up and down.

"Such a gentleman," you tease, and he chuckles.

"Not much gentle about me, love," he purrs before rubbing your clit in deliberate, tight, fast circles, slapping your ass once more for good measure and practically losing himself inside of you when he feels how you clench around him at that.

When you climax, it's more intense than you've felt for a long time, if at all. You paint his cock in your juices, and he only just about manages to pull it out of you in time to spread warm spurts of thick cum against your ass.

You flop down onto the bed, still stomach first, in exhaustion, smiling wistfully at the feeling of Tom lightly dragging the tip of his cock through the strings of cum he's left on your ass cheeks. "Having fun back there?"

"Just sort of sinking in that it's really happened," he replies in a state of dazed happiness. "How you feeling?"

"Good," you smile back in the same tone, "so very good."

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly.

"Should probably clean up," you mutter into your pillow, "but I don't wanna move right now."

Tom laughs, "C'mon, let's see if we can share a shower without you trying to go for round two, eh?"

You sit up on your knees, pivoting to face him, and gasp in shocked offence, making him laugh even more. “Oh, if I can, eh? And what about you?!”

He leans in with a grin, holding you by the throat as he kisses you deeply, longingly. “I already know I can’t.”

Once you’re both stood up, the rest of the night catches up with you and you both spend a moment blinking at each other heavily and laughing in exhaustion. You do share a shower, but it’s tender, soft, intimate. Lots of gentle caressing and slow kisses as you bathe Tom in your signature scent, the two of you becoming as one.

When you’re all clean, dry, and snuggled in Tom’s arms in your bed, you sigh. He turns his head to rest his face against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to it as he asks, “What’s wrong, sweetness?”

“Don’t want to fall asleep, now. Means it’s over,” you mumble into his bare chest.

“What, d’you really think I’m gonna ghost you after this?!” Tom asks with amusement. “You’re stuck with me now, babe.”

“Oh, no(!) How terrible(!)” You joke, and Tom gasps.

“Cheeky!”

“Ah, can’t reach down to spank me now, can you?” You tease.

Tom hums sleepily, “Hmm, I’m keeping track in my head of what I owe you, don’t you worry,” and you giggle. “Y’know, this wasn’t really how I wanted to do things with you.”

“How’d you mean?”

Tom shuffles a little, “Well, y’know. The deal was only ever to get your number, at first. Then, I was gonna wow you with my excellent flirting skil- why’re you laughing?” He pokes the soft part of your side, tickling you and making you laugh even more. “Anyway, wanted to do it all… Y’know, proper. Wine and dine you, so you knew it was for real.”

You frown, tracing the freckles on his chest absent-mindedly. “Yeah, but you did do all that. You bought me a drink at the start… Bought me my burger… And I think I know how you feel about me well enough by this point,” you grin. “Just thought you’d earned a night of teasing me, for once. Don’t get too used to it, though.”

“Oh? Sounds like a challenge,” Tom smirks, and you laugh. He sighs happily, “I really do like you, by the way. Not just drunky Tom, an’ I wasn’t just trying to get you in bed, neither. Not that I’m complaining,” he squeezes you closer to him, smiling into your hair.

“I like you too, Mr Grant,” you tease back, looking up at him to kiss him. One kiss gets followed by another, and another. “Things just feel right with you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies wistfully. “Like… Not to bring up my ex, but being Ruth was just like… Doing it to get it over with, d’you know what I mean? Like we did because it’s a thing people do. But that was just fun, like we were having a laugh but it was so fucking good at the same time. ’M just sorry I only made you come the once, especially on your birthday. How inconsiderate, eh?!” he jokes, and you laugh so loudly that your hand flies up to your mouth, but Tom gently guides it back away, watching you with adoration.

“Trust me, that was plenty! If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t get to play with you more,” you go back to playing with his freckles.

“Right, so, plan is, we get up nice an’ early in the morning, you suck me off and then ride my face until you’ve had at least three orgasms, yeah?” Tom jokes.

Laughing, you offer, “Deal. If you’re still asleep when I wake up, I'll just get started and wait for you to catch up, shall I?"

"God, it's like you're in my brain," Tom shakes his head as you both fill the room with laughter.

“S’pose we should get some sleep then, shouldn’t we?” You suggest, shuffling around until you’re comfortable. He matches your posture easily, spooning you and wrapping you up in his embrace as he settles down next to you.

“G’night, love. Hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he muses in your ear.

“Definitely the best one yet.” You smile sleepily as you feel him lean over to kiss your cheek, and turn your head around to sneak in a few more kisses before finally falling asleep.

tagging a few people who might especially want to read, feel free to tell me if you don't want to be tagged <3: @keerysquinn @pedgito @babybluebex @reysorigins @keeponquinning

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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mikhailwrites · 2 months

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Soaring Ever Higher 4 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Previous chapter | This Chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

And so, Ghost finally has a chance to make good on his promise... with some interest...

Be advised that this chapter is pretty spicy so if you mind or are a minor, I trust you'll stop reading at # symbol :)

The bar is nice and surprisingly classy, considering the city is on the smaller side. The music isn’t too loud or obnoxious; the overall noise is also bearable. Ghost lets himself enjoy it.

“What can I get you, lads?” the bartender flashes them a broad smile, not even batting an eye at Ghost’s scarred face, which is to his credit.

Trigger also doesn’t seem to mind. Once Ghost took the balaclava off, the bloke did pause on his face, but there was nothing to suggest what he thought of the map of scars. After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled as he held the door open for Ghost.

“Bourbon for me,” Ghost points at the bottle of Woodford Reserve on the shelf. The bartender nods and looks expectantly at Trigger, who seems to be scanning the shelves for something specific.

John shakes his head in mock disbelief. “And here I thought you were a cultured man,” then he turns back to the bartender, “Do you have Lagavulin 16?”

The bartender thinks for a second. “I think so, but let me check; we keep the better stuff in the back.”

Ghost chuckles. “What can I say? I’m drinking Yank stuff with a bloke flying a Yank plane. If you were a patriot, you’d be flying Typhoon like the rest of the base.”

“Somebody knows their jets,” Trigger whistles. “But last time I checked, Typhoon ain’t Scottish-made.”

Their exchange is interrupted by the return of the bartender with two glasses. Ghost says he’ll be paying for both. The price doesn’t really surprise him. “Are you getting the good stuff at my expense?” The money is no issue. He’s just interested in the reaction.

“Why, of course,” Trigger smirks, “it’s not every day I get a free drink.” He raises his glass, “Slàinte mhath.”

“Cheers,” Ghost answers the toast with his glass, sipping the bourbon, sighing in content as it slips down his throat, warming him inside out. “You think I believe you? With the free drinks? Or do you want me to feel special?”

“Right down to the business, aren’t you?” the corners of his mouth twitch. “The thing is, I don’t leave the base often. Don’t have much business outside.”

“And for pleasure?” Ghost watches him intently, noticing a minuscule twitch in John’s left hand, the way his tongue darts to wet his lips. He’s either nervous or pretends to be. Both options are intriguing, if for slightly different reasons.

“That’s complicated,” he lowers his gaze. Now that’s a good tell that he’s just pretending and luring Ghost, tickling the hunter in him by playing a helpless prey.

“It’s really not. When you boil it down, it’s always about pushing, shoving, and exchanging bodily fluids. Nothing complicated about that,” Ghost presses, shifting a little closer and putting his hand on John’s knee.

“Yer not a wooing and romance kind of lad, are ye?” Trigger takes his glass and drinks a bit more of his whisky. The smell of smoke, disinfectant and burnt tyres tickles Ghost’s nose. Christ, he could never stomach peated scotch, but the scent becomes John. It may very well be how he smells when he climbs out of his plane after a mission.

“Is that a problem?” Ghost asks with fake concern, tasting the bourbon once more.

“Didnae say that,” Trigger shakes his head, resting his hand atop Ghost’s. That’s the only permission Simon needs.

He leans closer as he speaks quietly, right into John’s ear. “I want to bend you over the counter and shag you like there’s no tomorrow."

“Damn, not even a second drink? You think I’m that cheap?” Trigger grins, and it’s all teeth and intent.

“Not cheap. I think you know what you want and usually get it. Am I close?” Ghost leans even closer. If he tried a little, his lips could brush the trimmed beard. He notices a pleasant whiff of cologne as well.

“Close enough,” Trigger admits, wiggling a little in a movement intimately familiar to anyone ever sported a stiffer in public space.

“Base or hotel?” Ghost asks, momentarily turning his attention back to the drink. There’s still about half of it left.

John understands and promptly finishes his glass before answering. “Hotel, but we need to do some shopping first.”

“Obviously,” Ghost agrees, tipping the glass back and setting it on the counter.

The moment the door of the small hotel room closes behind them, they’re on each other. John’s fingers tangle in Simon’s blonde hair where it’s long enough on top of his head, nails scraping the scalp. Simon’s lips smash against John’s; tongue, teeth, doesn’t matter. First, Simon presses John against the wall. Then the other man, despite being shorter, retaliates and shoves Ghost back, pinning him to the opposing wall and wedging his knee between Simon’s legs and up until Ghost grunts in both impatience and anticipation.

Trigger’s hands leave Simon’s head and immediately sneak under his tee, feeling him up, kneading at the hard plains of muscles.

“Fuck I love how you’re built,” John gasps between harsh breaths, tucking the tee up, uncovering inch after inch of scarred, pale flesh.

Simon grabs him by the mohawk and forces him to expose his neck. With no hesitation, he licks it with a long, broad and wet stroke before sinking his teeth in. John yelps above him, digging his fingernails into Ghost’s sides with enough strength for it to hurt.

Trigger’s pelvis also moves in a fluid, steady motion, hard-on on hard-on. It’s wild and heavenly, free of any and all troubles. Just like Ghost said back in the bar, when it comes down to it, sex is a rather uncomplicated endeavour.

Somehow, they manage to get mostly undressed and on the actual bed. Simon lies on his back with John braced above him, only heading in the opposite direction. They suck each other’s cock in a perfectly balanced ratio of giving and taking. Well, it’s a little more taking on John’s part once he finds out he can actually fuck Simon’s throat and does so with relentless vigour. Simon, however, uses the situation to his advantage, blindly grabs a bottle of lube and, without John noticing, squeezes some on his fingers before he presses them against his hole. Two at first, and he’s about as gentle about it as Trigger’s cockhead is to his throat.

John gasps and groans at the intrusion, but Ghost sucking him feels too good for him to withdraw. He takes those fingers just like he takes Simon’s prick, at least what he can actually fit into his mouth.

Soon enough, the stretch starts to feel good, and he moves back further to have more. He’s close and feels the orgasm building between his prick and his balls. He lets the cock fall from his mouth to slobber nearly unintelligible “’M close.”

Simon grabs his ass and helps him thrust deeper. He’ll have an even raspier voice for days; he knows it, yet doesn’t care. His airways are momentarily blocked, but he expected it. John grunts and then changes the rhythm to senseless rutting as he nears his peak. Simon adds another two fingers and wedges them in by force, knowing the pleasure and the tension of impending orgasm will numb the pain, morphing it into something else entirely.

John cries out, his voice breaking, and he thrusts one last time as he comes down Ghost’s throat in powerful pulses.

Simon barely lets him have a few seconds before manhandling him, throwing him off of himself and onto the mattress face-down. Once more, he reaches for the lube, slicks his prick and slides into John’s now pliant and lubed-up hole. John moans, hypersensitive and surprised, but he doesn’t move.

“Fuck yes,” Simon growls as he starts thrusting. Fast and deep, he’s way past caring. Bracing himself on John’s shoulder blades, he enjoys the hard body beneath all the more as he knows the other man could stand his ground easily. He could fight Ghost if he wanted to, and even though he wouldn’t probably win, it would be a good fight. And he shags him like that, too. With none of the gentleness and all of the respect.

John grunts and huffs beneath him, the discomfort clear in his voice, but eventually, he starts jerking his hips to meet Simon’s thrusts. His back glistens with sweat, scars starkly pale on the tanned skin. Ghost leans down and tastes the salt and musk—breathes Trigger in as he regains his focus and slows the thrusts to savour this.

Simon drags his fingers through the mohawk, grabbing a fistful of hair barely long enough to get a hold of. He lifts John’s head from the bed and motivates him with a firm tug to look over his shoulder. John’s face is flushed, his lips slick with saliva, his eyes searing despite their colour.

“That all ye’ve got, Si?” Trigger taunts, smirking. His brow furrows, and his mouth forms a pretty “O” when Ghost answers the challenge with a backstab of the pleasurable kind.

Simon can feel the tension inside him rising. The fast, punishing pace he’s set does nothing to stave it off, and he doesn’t even try to fight it. His breath is ragged and Simon groans every time he bottom out. So close…

And then it’s here, rolling over him, dragging him under as his whole body locks for a moment before the muscles seize and his heartbeat thunders in his ears. Simon collapses on top of John. It’s bloody uncomfortable, all hard muscles and hot, sweaty skin, but he barely even registers any of it.

In about ten seconds, his brain reboots, yet he still doesn’t move. Instead, he nuzzles against short hair and the mohawk. Trigger sighs; it sounds content and peaceful, so Simon continues rubbing his stubbly cheek against the trimmed hair.

“Yer a good weighted blanket, Simon,” the Scot says quietly, but there’s mirth in his voice—an almost fond edge.

Ghost hums. He wouldn’t mind staying like this longer, but the discomfort is only worsening. Eventually, Simon rolls off of John, but seeing as the other man didn’t complain so far, he grabs him and squeezes him in a firm hug. He basks in the closeness as he buries his face in the nape of John’s neck.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I haven’t pegged you for a cuddler… ‘s nice surprise,” Trigger speaks again, squeezing Simon’s hands where they hold onto him and presses even further into him.

They drift off like that, because shower can wait, and they wouldn’t be in the military if they couldn’t stand being occasionally gross and disgusting.

I have way too many screenshots, here, have some Eurofighter Typhoon.

#I so enjoy their dynamic #Johnny playing coy is mood #Simon Riley - the weighted blanket #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ace combat #ace combat 7

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forpiratereasons · 11 months

Text

meeting stede bonnet

a slow meandering through June. seventh prompt: rivals

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10

“I’m telling you, I saw him. Clear as the nose on my face. Canoodling in the back garden with a bloke in black leather.”

“What sort of canoodling?” Frenchie asked.

Roach wrinkled his nose, trying to remember through the haze of last night. “Touchy-feely,” Roach finally settled on. “They left together.”

“Sorry,” Oluwande said, finally deigning to look up from inventory and tune in. “Did you say Captain left the bar last night with someone?”

“I’ve been saying it all morning, pay attention. He carried some guy right out of the bar and left with him.”

“He carried—?”

“What, like a doll? Are we sure it was a real person?”

“Carried,” Roach affirmed. “Like a bride. And it was definitely a real person because he almost kicked someone in the face on the way out.”

“That was me,” the customer appearing at the counter said, dryly.

Everyone turned to look at him. He was kind of short, greying hair, bit of a goatee. Lots of leather, just like Roach said, and he had the best resting bitch face Roach had ever seen in his life.

Presumably it was resting, anyway.

“Er,” Roach said, looking the guy over. “Our boss carried you out of a bar last night?”

“No.” His voice was soft, raspy, but still managed to enunciate every full stop like it were a threat. “I almost got kicked in the face.”

“Uh, here,” Oluwande said, reaching for the book the guy had in his hand. “Sorry about our boss though. He’s a bit—enthusiastic?”

This didn’t seem to placate him. Instead he sniffed and said, as if it pained him on an existential level, “He was carrying my boss. And he has an appointment at eleven, so if you could tell him Izzy Hands is looking for him—I’m not actually going to buy that, by the way.”

Oluwande looked down at the book he’d handed over—The Wonderful Wizard of Oz—then at Izzy Hands, and nodded like that made sense. Roach privately agreed; he didn’t really seem like a magic and whimsy kind of guy.

“S’only nine,” Frenchie pointed out.

“Takes time to prep a tattooing appointment as complicated as Blackbeard’s.”

Frenchie whistled, long and low. Roach’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes,” Izzy said.

Roach knew who Blackbeard was. Obviously. Everyone knew who Blackbeard was—tattooing legend, the kind who booked out years in advance. And, though Roach didn’t usually vibe any kind of way, generally speaking, even he knew Blackbeard was hot. Long hair and leather and big brown eyes type of hot.

“You sure you’ve got the right establishment?” Roach asked, frowning. “Normal-sized bloke, Disney prince hair, seems a bit clueless sometimes? And like, aggressively optimistic about it? Not nice optimistic—like he might fight you in the street optimistic. That guy?”

The resting bitch face transformed into active bitch face. “I don’t like it either.”

Oluwande had gone back to his inventory like this was not the most fascinating piece of fucking news any of them had ever heard. Lucius was going to shit when he found out. Possibly bake Stede a cake.

“I can text Stede for you, mate, but they’re not here,” Roach said. “Haven’t seen either of them all morning.”

Izzy’s face scrunched up, like he’d just smelled something particularly heinous. “You could call,” he pointed out.

“Not calling my boss while he’s busy with any of that,” Roach shot back. “You could call.”

Izzy shifted uncomfortably, obviously not too keen on calling his boss while Blackbeard was busy with that either. He glared at Roach like that might change anything; it did, but only in that Roach was having more fun with it than he had been before.

Roach raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Izzy said. “Fine!”

“I’ll text for you,” Roach called after him as he stalked away. Izzy gave him the finger, then he was gone.

“So,” Frenchie said, leaning on the counter next to Roach. “Blackbeard.”

“Fucking Blackbeard.”

“Literally, it seems.”

Oluwande jabbed Roach with the end of his pen. “We’re staying out of it, remember.”

There was a pause.

“He’s moving pretty fast, though,” Frenchie mused.

“Pretty fast,” Roach agreed. “Awfully fast, really.”

They both turned to look at Oluwande, who finally put down his pen and sighed. “Fine! Fine. Call an emergency staff meeting—let’s just—take it easy, all right?”

#second prompt today!#darcy writes pirates #ofmd #gentlebeard

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thebibutterflyao3 · 3 months

Text

Day 4 - Prompt: Evoke @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 963 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily eyed the four blokes blocking her way suspiciously. This impasse started about ten minutes ago and three aisles over with Remus distracting her from reshelving the returns with a long-winded story about a pair of “lost ships.” He clearly thought that it was the perfect allegory for missed opportunities, but it sounded particularly absurd to hear from his lips.

Then, Sirius appeared from nowhere and steered the conversation toward social media stalkers, which was apparently a little too on the nose for Remus. When she’d finally slipped past them, James stopped her in the next aisle to ask if she was attending the Yule Festival tonight, and when she said “yes,” he proceeded to incorporate her into their collective plans. Lily managed to duck into the last aisle and reshelve the remaining four biographies in her hands, only to find all four of them blocking her exit afterwards.

“What‘s this then?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips. “I haven’t seen you here in weeks,” Lily pointed out to Remus before eyeing Sirius and James, “and the two of you are rarely indoors for more than twenty minutes.”

She gestured vaguely at the small stack of books in Regulus’s hand. “He’s the only one who seems to know what a bookshop’s purpose is.”

“I don’t know why they’re here, but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to buy books,” Regulus admitted with a shrug. He glanced between Sirius and Remus curiously. “Why are you here?”

“We,” Sirius said, gesturing between himself and Remus, “are here to visit with Lily. Since I’m only in town for a few more days, I thought it would be nice to spend some time together. Evoke a little friendly comradery.”

James nodded avidly, which wasn’t at all suspicious. “Right, and I’m here to buy Regulus books for the ride home. I just figured you might want to join all of us tonight.”

“All of you? And how many is that meant to be?” she checked.

“My parents, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, me, Peter, and Pandora,” James replied, ticking the names off of his fingers. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Lily frowned as she went through the list internally. “So, is that four couples? And me?”

“Oh, no! Pandora is my flatmate from London, and she’s coming to meet James,” Regulus assured her. “I haven’t even met Peter yet.”

“He’s a friend from uni,” Sirius replied quickly. A little too quickly.

“Remus? What’s going on here?”

Remus rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “A coincidence?”

“If you say so.” Lily flailed her hands at the blockade until Regulus ducked behind James and Remus stepped out of her way. “I have work to do. Can whatever you’re plotting wait until tonight?”

“So, you will join us?” James asked, rocking on his heels like a small child.

“I’ll be at the festival. If I run into the lot of you, so be it, but I’m not committing to wasting my whole night following you idiots around,” she said, rolling her eyes at Sirius’s scoff. Spinning on her heel, she glared at Remus pointedly. “If I find out you’re trying to set me up again, and I will find out, you will not like the consequences, Remus John Lupin.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed.

Sirius looked gobsmacked. “John? Remus John?”

Lily strode away with her head held high and her arms swinging at her sides. She was confident in two things after that confrontation: Remus wouldn’t dare attempt to replicate the Gideon and Fabian incident from uni and the combination of James and Sirius was asking for trouble. As if she didn’t already know those two were as brilliant as they were foolish. She just wished that they didn’t drag Remus into their nonsense.

And me. Leave me out of this. Whatever “this” is.

She busied herself straightening the display tables out front until the quartet of chaos left. The last thing she needed was to be caught up in one of their “incidents.” The Potters may be dear friends of Mr. Lupin, but their son and his friends set off her red flag alarm. Individually, they were fine, but together? Pure chaos.

“Lily? Phone call for you!” Alice called, waving from the back office.

She waved back as she reached for the handset at the register. “Thank you, Alice!”

“Hello, this is Lily, can I help you?”

A long silence followed. It wasn’t one of those creepers that breathe into the receiver, or even the empty mechanical silence of a telemarketer who hadn’t connected yet. This was…shy.

Lily toyed with the old, misshapen cord that connected the phone to the wall. Mr. Lupin refused to replace it with a cordless or headset because he was afraid they’d lose it. The man could be such a dinosaur for only being fifty-five.

“Hello?”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting…I mean, you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” The voice was both timid and defensive, but slowly lifting in volume.

“Alright, what can I do for you?” she repeated, keeping her tone as professional as possible.

“I was looking for a book about…never mind, you probably don’t have it.”

The call ended abruptly and left Lily staring at the archaic device in confusion. It stung a little to be dismissed so quickly, which was stupid. She hung up the phone and shook her head clear.

Leave it. Just a weird one, that’s all.

Except it nagged at the back of her mind the rest of the day. The woman’s voice was strong, but she’d rambled as though her thoughts were scattered on the floor and puzzling them together was too much effort. The hang-up was likely from her own embarrassment for being caught daydreaming, and yet…she couldn’t help wondering who she was.

Next Part>>>

#lily x pandora #pandora lovegood x lily evans #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #regulus and pandora #Lily Evans #pandalily #pandolily #marauders #the marauders #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin

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noodyl-blasstal · 10 months

Note

what say you about a potentiallllllllllll museum guide au

Reese, Reese, this is such a treat, I adore you. [AU ask game, send me an AU, I'll give you 5 things from it, or more because I'll fight maths and I'll win]

Museum guide AU premise: Okay, okay, so Taako's a museum guide and today he's fucking done, he's just absolutely fucking done. So he's going off script and he's telling the truth instead of the shitty glossed over versions, and he's going to make sure everyone is as uncomfortable as he is about all the bullshit they stole here. Kravitz is on the tour with his Mums and they're getting more and more gleeful as the tour goes. Raven is absolutely egging him on. 1) Taako works as a museum guide and his favourite is when he gets to work with children and young people because he can make it interactive and fun, but they don't let him do that with the grown up groups even though he knows in his bones some of them would love interactive story time and getting to do quizzes and dress up. 2) Today the fancy people guide is off and Taako has to cover the Very Important People tour, but his boss also told him to go fast through some of the indigenous exhibits and "keep the guilting to a minimum" so Taako's going to bite. Hard. He already has to fight about this bullshit all the time - what's the point in learning half a history? It might not be pretty, but it's true.

3) There's a bloke called John on the tour who is on the board and donates generously to the museum and he's getting angrier and angrier as Taako facts his way through everything. Some of the others in the group (looking at you Raven, Kravitz, Istus) ask questions which means he spends much longer talking about the context and significance of the exhibits he was supposed to rush through. John pulls him to the side and fires him in the middle of the tour, so Taako tells everyone that's what happened and that as he's not an employee they really can't stop him talking now. So he finishes up with anyone who is interested. It's most of the people. 4) Kravitz is interested in the history but also very interested in Taako. His Mums are also very interested in Taako and whether a nice young man like him is single because their very handsome son is and wouldn't it be a coincidence if two nice young men who were right here next to each other were single [pointed looks at Kravitz].

5) Raven and Istus make a big ol' donation on the proviso that Taako gets reinstated. With their help he's allowed to do some more specialist tours including ones where he does interactive education for grown ups - he gets to dress up and tell stories and people love it.

6) (I told you, I'm too powerful to be constrained) Kravitz comes on one of the grown up interactive tours and uses his feedback slip to ask Taako out, but Taako doesn't actually read the slips, Sloane in HR does and boy does she recognise that handwriting.

7) Sloane gives Taako the slip (and Kravitz a lot of shit including sending a photo of it with "I think we should just be friends (as we're both super fucking gay.)") and he and Kravitz go on a date and everything's perfect and fine forever because I can do that. The power!

#Thank you so much Reese - it was fun to roll in that #Still accepting these - send me an AU and I'll write you five (or more) things about it #Taakitz #Noodyl Writes #TAZ balance spoilers #Let adults learn in fun ways thanks #Don't just have child size dress up options at your museum I want to wear a fun hat too

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connorbrownbakes · 1 year

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Baking Show Things

Introducing this year’s bakers:

Connor:

London-based Connor is this year’s youngest baker at only 19. Once fond of experimenting with potions-making, Connor discovered an even greater passion for experimenting with bakes in the Hogwarts kitchens at 15. When he isn’t baking for his family and friends, Connor enjoys gardening, muggle films, and princess tea parties with his niece and his newly adopted cat, Leia. (Note: Gardening = weed lmao)

Connor gives interview about Quidditch Week

“I’m actually terrified of heights. So even watching quidditch from up in the stands at school was a bit horrifying, never mind being on a broomstick,” he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “Last time I went on one was ‘cause I had this stupid crush on someone who’s really into flying, thought I’d impress them by getting lessons but ended up just eating dirt in front of ‘em,” he added on, because he was Connor and he couldn’t seem to shut up even when talking to an interviewer who was gonna put this on the wireless and into the weekly bake off magazine and people were apparently interested enough in him that they’d probably hear it. “Wow, I wish I hadn’t just told you that,” he said with a flustered chuckle. “Anyways, hopefully this bake goes better than that. I’m doing a, er, combination of quidditch-inspired macarons. We’ve got strawberry rhubarb quaffles, dark chocolate coffee bludgers, and lemon snitches. Might’ve bit off a bit more than I can chew but if I can pull it off how I practiced I think they’ll turn out nice. I’m mostly worried about having enough time to do the decoration.”

(This is like week 3 or 4 I’d guess. Connor already getting sort of a following for being cute and unsure of himself and then his bakes being at the top, and here’s where all the girls in London decide they want him to date them lmao)

Bread Week Interview:

Connor gets asked what inspired his signature bake (savory focaccia with herbs, tomato, and olives).

“I just got into breads more recently, actually. I mean, I’ve always enjoyed making a good loaf of sourdough or some good rolls, but I just recently started experimenting more with adding different flavors to my breads. I was actually inspired from a uh--” Connor barely managed to stop himself from saying it was someone he fancied, which would have been an even bigger disaster after quidditch week. He’d sound like some lovestruck loser if all his bakes were inspired by some bloke he had a crush on, that everyone assumed was some bird he had a crush on. At least there was that. “A friend who told me bread was just empty calories,” he said, hoping he just seemed nervous because of the baking competition. “Wanted to prove there could be some more sustenance to it, ya know? So I did some experimenting and stumbled onto this combination that I think works really nicely. Hopefully the judges like it.” (Insert Connor getting teased about still not being confident the judges will like his bakes).

(I feel like this one leads to mass speculation about whether Connor has a gf xP)

VARIOUS OTHER CLIPS:

- Connor joking around with the sweet old ladies who clearly love him, by the end of the season he’s showing up to the tent in jumpers they knitted for him (they bring out your eyes, Connor!). The most embarrassing is the week after he wins star baker he shows up in a hand-knitted jumper with a big star on it, clearly embarrassed, and the hosts ask about it and Connor says “Gladys made me this lovely jumper to congratulate me on last week. I was surprised by how fast she made it.” Gladys chimes in like “I’ve been working on it for weeks, dear, I knew it was only a matter of time before you won star baker.” Connor: “Gladys you’re just too sweet to me, look how nice this jumper is. Gladys has offered to teach me to make my own after this.” (Connor showing it to the cameras, and photos of him in that jumper def are highlighted in the accompanying photos/magazine lol). Gladys: “If you have time, what with all the ladies you’ll be busy with after.” Gladys winks at the camera and Connor blushes again. “I swear you women here are more invested in my love life than my own grandmother! Hi gran, I love you,” he adds with a smile and a wave at the camera.

- There is for sure a week where his showstopper bake is princess tea-party themed (maybe biscuit week? where they have to make structured cookies and he does like a cookie princess dollhouse) inspired by Kit and she gets a shout-out. “I promised my niece Kit I’d do a bake just for her, and this is it. I also promised my brother I’d tell her she can’t eat any of the practice bakes I gave her before bed, so--hear that, Kit? No cookies before bed in view of your dad.” Cue a mischievous grin and wink at the camera for Kit.

- Connor comforting the other bakers when things don’t go well and helping them out where he can

- Connor being SO NERVOUS about EVERY BAKE even when he’s done and it’s sitting there looking wonderful and the judges give him consistently positive feedback.

- Connor winning star baker and being absolutely floored and then an interview saying he still can’t believe he won it and how great all the other bakers did and he just hopes he can keep baking this well.

- Connor def becomes one of the hosts’ favorite contestants to go talk to and tease with bc he always starts rambling but he never gets mad about it and just laughs at himself

- He def gets asked about his love life (teasingly) by one of the hosts once he starts getting talked about. “So Connor, we hear your success on the show so far may also be helping your love life, anything you want to say to all your admirers out there?” Connor turns bright red, much to the host’s delight, and answers something like “Er, still not much of a love life over here, but I um, appreciate all the support. I mean it’s really nice that um, people seem to like me and like what I’m doing here. I don’t think I’m really doing anything all that special. I’m just happy to be here. Think I’m just trying to focus on my baking right now, you know?”

Host: “So no word from your quidditch cutie?”

Connor: Turns an even brighter shade of red and lets out a nervous laugh, probably drops the cookie he’s frosting. “I--no, uh no word. I don’t think they even watch this show, which is probably for the best. I mean, don’t need to be reminding them of the time I fell off a broom in front of them, do I? Think it’s a lost cause, anyway.” (more nervous laughter and the host takes pity)

Host: Now, now, chin up Connor! Everyone in this tent can see how lovely you are, anyone who can’t isn’t worth your time, are they? Barbara, don’t you have a granddaughter who wants to meet this dashing young man?”

Barbara (sweet old lady): Oh, Connor already knows about my big plans to introduce him to my grandbaby once we’re done baking.

(More blushing from Connor as Barbara gives him a cheeky wink because grandbaby absolutely means grandson but she obv won’t say that on air)

Connor (to the host): Barbara already knows I can’t say no to her, so I guess I’ll be going on a blind date after this. (More flustered laughing).

(And the baking show fan world melts down bc how dare barbara’s dumbass granddaughter get dibs on Connor lmao).

- Finally Connor end in final 3, coming in second (to either Barbara or Gladys who had just done wonderfully the whole time and has been lovely to everyone and Connor’s so pleased for her). Connor’s end interview just like: “I’m just absolutely chuffed for Barbara, she’s an impeccable baker and she really nailed this last set of bakes. Of course it’s a bit disappointing not to win, isn’t it, but at the beginning I just kept thinking I was about to be sent home every week and now here I am at the top three, it’s amazing. This has been such a lovely experience and I’m so pleased I got to meet all these fantastic bakers and compete with them and learn from them. I’ve made lifelong friendships here and I’ve grown a lot as a baker, don’t think there’s much more I could ask for than that is there?”

#hc #baking show #bake off #idk just a lil collection of snippets for when connor is on the baking show xD

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xbadgerbearx · 3 years

Text

i guess they are pretty funky

word count: 1.5k

Can’t Sleep: [2] … [4]

Your team prepared themselves as you started your journey to your new destination. You and Abner were talking about random things as you walked.

"You really like the dots?" Abner timidly asked.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're so colorful," you said quietly with a smile.

Abner smiled to himself before motioning to your outfit. "I like your uniform too, it suits you. It makes your eyes stand out."

"Thank you! Ya know, I always thought you had a really nice nose- whoa, Abner, are you doing alright?" You cut yourself as you faced Abner for the first time during this walking session. He had those glowing dots on his face again.

"Oh! Those?" He was nervously covering his face. "Don't worry about-" splat. Abner tripped over a rogue tree root and fell face first into the mud. As you went to help pick him up, Flag turned around.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Everyone turned around to look at you two, well, minus Cleo, but she was sitting on a fallen tree almost asleep.

"We're tired, Colonel. We need a rest," she whined.

"Goddamn hobbyists," muttered Chris.

Soria turned to Flag, "We cannot stop. We need to hurry if you're going to help my people."

"Hey," DuBois intervened. "We're not here to help your people. But she's right, we gotta keep moving."

"I carry friend?"

"It's okay, Nanaue," Cleo said before turning to Abner. "It's happening to his face again."

"It's nothing, I tripped," he brushed off.

"Hey," Peacemaker said as he shoved Abner back. "Norman Bates, if that shit's contagious, we need to know."

"It's not," Abner tried moving forward before he was pushed again.

"What is it?"

"What's your deal, Chris? Stop pushing people around before I turn into something you're really not gonna like. And what's up with the obscure references?" You were getting fed up with Chris' bullshit.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"I don't know, how about your dead father? The one that killed himself in front of you when you were a kid?"

"How do you-"

"You'd be surprised how much your mom loved recording all your childhood achievements. Your fifth birthday—ring a bell?" Peacemaker had an unreadable expression on his face as you got in his face and lowered your voice. "You wouldn't believe how much information you can get on your hands if you're able to disguise yourself as a high ranking employee in Belle Reve."

Before any of you could make the situation worse, Abner cleared the tension with a sigh.

"It's a... it's an interdimensional virus."

"Fuck is that?" Peacemaker asked after seemingly forgetting what just happened. You think he was trying to not think about it.

"My mother was a scientist at S.T.A.R Labs, and she was obsessed with turning me and my brother and sisters into superheroes."

"Oh, Abner," you softly said as you placed a hand on his arm. Peacemaker looked between the two of you with a hard expression.

"She infected me. Now, if I don't expel the dots twice a day..."

DuBois asked, "Then what?"

Abner made a face that was hard to read as he said, "They'll eat me alive." He then chuckled dryly as if he himself couldn't believe it.

"What happened to your brother and sisters?" Flag questioned.

"Some lived. Some... died."

Cleo, now standing, asked, "And your mom, where is she now?"

Abner looked to you before turning to his team.

"Almost everywhere."

Everyone just looked at Krill for a few moments.

"Okay," Flag turned around. "Let's move out."

"Come on, we must hurry, or we'll be late to meet my contact," Soria ushered.

Sooner or later, well, later, you made your way to this blockade where a driver in a large van was being investigated. During your trip Abner had to expel the dots, and although he was embarrassed about the situation, you and Cleo tried keeping his mind off it. The soldiers surrounded the van after a minute and started banging on the door. That was your cue.

Peacemaker started taking people out with a silenced pistol, Bloodsport shot with his arm crossbow, and King Shark ate a guy. The rest of the team moved from their hiding spots once the soldiers were dealt with. Success.

Bloodsport banged on the van's window before asking, "Are you Milton?"

The driver choked out a tearful "Si."

After Soria directed him to a nearby pull off spot, you started looking at the contents in the boxes that were pulled out.

"Milton will drive you through town and to La Gatita Amable. There are clothes in the boxes for all of you so you can blend in." Cleo started putting on a random pair of sunglasses as you pulled out a fedora. Soria continued, "That said, the walking tiburon is gonna have to stay out of sight."

"I wear disguise," Nanaue said.

"Ohhh," Cleo drawled. "You're going to wear a disguise?"

"Si."

"Hey, he's learnin' Spanish," Peacemaker said offhandedly.

"And what kind of disguise?"

"Fake mustache," he said smugly.

"Yeah," DuBois interrupted as he moved more boxes. "Fake mustache isn't gonna cut it, mate."

"Aww come on," you cooed. "What if he wears a hat?" The fedora you picked up earlier was now sitting on the King of the Ocean's head.

"You still look exactly like yourself."

"That's the worst fake mustache I've ever seen," Chris added.

"And if you had fooled us, we'd have to kill you, shark-shaped bloke with a mustache creepin' up on us like that."

"FUCK!" Nanaue yelled as he stomped off. You snickered before turning to Abner with some clothes in your hand.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm? Oh, those look nice, although I saw something in another box that I thought you might like. Let me go get it."

As he walked away towards another box, you dropped the clothes you were holding as your face softened. Someone saw something and thought of you? That hasn't happened for a very long time. You started sifting thoughtfully through a nearby box when he came back.

"Here," he showed you the clothes. "I hope you like it." It was sweet how anxious he was getting over this. He must not socialize often.

Taking the clothes from him, you observed the material. It was... actually really good. It was something you would've loved to wear if you weren't forced to wear that stupid prison outfit, and it looked like it'd fit.

"Abner, this is great! It's a lot better than what I was originally going with," you laughed. "Oh! Here, I saw these pants and thought it would match the shirt you picked up."

"Thank you," he said shyly.

"I'm gonna change over there. Stand watch, please?"

How could he say no to you? "Of course," he said while respectfully turning around. As he waited, Peacemaker appeared.

"(L/n) around?"

"Huh?" Abner said, startled from Chris's sudden presence. "Uh, yeah, they went over there to change into their disguise. I'm looking out for them."

"Oh, you're looking out for them? Well look out for this, Patrick Bateman," Peacemaker wasn't looking so peaceful as he leaned in towards Abner. Dropping his voice, he continued. "I don't know what you think is going on between you two, but leave it, you understand me? Why would The Mimic want to go for someone as lame as you? You throw polka dots at people?" Peacemaker scoffed before finishing, "Quit getting in my way, or else."

Stay away from you? There was no way he could do that. You were seemingly the only person who liked him, and now he would have to end that? Fuck that.

Abner, admittedly with a little less confidence than what he hoped for, challenged him. "Or else what?"

Gosh, three words and his heart was already pumping.

"Excuse me?" Chris raised a brow.

Luckily before anything could be done, you emerged oblivious from the jungle while dawning your new attire. Your uniform was neatly folded and tucked under your arm. Both men looked at you and... wow. Abner was speechless. Literally. For the second time within you knowing him, you made his breath hitch.

"You look stunning," Peacemaker quickly said before Abner had a chance. That wouldn't really matter since your response was quite the cockblocker.

"Thanks! Abner picked it out for me," you smiled. You even gave a twirl to show off the outfit to your teammates. Abner just looked at you with such affection in his eyes.

"Anyways, your turn," you ordered as you took Krill's watching place so he could change. Peacemaker tried making some move on you, but you were clueless. Instead, you went into Mission Mode™ and discussed some tactics and strategies you could implement. Sighing, Chris humored you and joined your planning. Not too long later, Abner walked out with his disguise on.

"I'm not sure about this," he said while standing awkwardly.

"You look like an idio-"

"You look great!" you voiced over Peacemaker. "I love those pants on you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," you laughed. "They're funky."

"I-" Krill let out a laugh of his own. "Yeah, I guess they are pretty funky."

"Alright, well, we've gotta get back to the van," you announced while walking away. Abner blindly followed you with a dumb little smile on his face while leaving Chris just standing there in disbelief.

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january31st · 3 years

Text

Ablaze: Chapter 2

Cruella (2021) x reader

A/N: Lmao I’ve never been to London, you can throw eggs at me, yes. I wrote based on weather stereotypes. Moving along.

Warnings: catcalling? sorta? someone being sick (vomiting and passing out)

|| Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Wattpad Link ||

~3000 words

The April showers did nothing to degrade your mood, in fact, it seemed as though nothing could. Also? Whoever came up with that saying definitely didn’t come to London much. More like April showers bring May more showers. Which in turn brings June more showers. Endless showers. Waterfalls from the sky all year long.

And on this specific Wednesday they weren’t quite just showers, the heavens seemed to have opened. After you got to the address you had now memorised by heart, you hopped up the steps and got in, leaving your umbrella with the other ones by the door.

You approached the front desk, smiling politely at the lady who sat across from it.

“How can I help you?” She asked.

“I have a meeting today? In just ten minutes.” You said showing her the card you had been given.

“Oh, I’m afraid it has been canceled dear.”

Frowning in confusion you asked “And when was it rescheduled to?”

She pressed her lips together, clearly at a loss for words “It wasn’t.”

“What? Can’t I set up another time for it?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

“Oh… Okay then. Thank you, have a nice day.” And with that you turned around to leave, grabbing the wet umbrella.

The smell of the rain was almost bitter now. What the hell were you to do with that? Keep performing until another chance showed up? It was probably a once in a lifetime thing, and without even knowing you screwed it up. The idea of grabbing your stupid guitar ever again made you mad.

You were now walking down the street, rain completely forgotten, just as the umbrella that was still unopened in your hand. God, how did you let this happen? You were so close you could almost touch that future, but it turned to smoke and you couldn’t figure out why. You stopped in your tracks to think about what had been your fatal mistake, and it seemed impossible to come to any conclusion.

As you sat there, clothes glued to you, you heard a honk from a car nearby, and saw a guy waving at you from inside it. You decided to ignore him, turned around, and wrapped your coat tighter around you, now awfully aware of how you should have opened the damn umbrella, only now was too late.

“Excuse me lady?” He shouted with a thick accent. “Are you Miss Y/N? Y/N Y/LN?”

You turned back around and walked closer.

“Who on earth are you?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m Horace, so very nice to meet you!” He answered, stretching his hand out from the passenger window. You shook it, only not to be rude.

“You should prolly hop in! It’s raining cats and dogs.” He said.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I will. I have somewhere to be.”

“Oh no one told us you had to be somewhere! I’m sorry to have come at a bad time then.” He said.

You were about to turn around again when you heard another voice from the driver’s seat.

“You idiot Horace! Hey, don’t mind him will ya? Artie told us to come pick you up.”

“What? Why would he do that? Do you even know Artie?” Your confusion only grew bigger with each sentence they said.

“Yeah, funny bloke he is! With the mullet? Such an interesting guy!” Said this Horace man.

“Horace! I’m Jasper by the way. I’m sorry that my friend here can’t act normal. We work with Artie, he asked us to pick you up here.” said the other one.

The rain seemed to have reached your bones by now, you felt achingly cold, so you ignored the strangeness of the situation and got in the car.

“So didn't you say you had to be somewhere?” Horace turned to face you in the back seat as the car started rolling down the street.

Your cheeks flushed, and before you could answer, the other one- this Jasper guy- answered for you.

“Mate don’t you think it’s a bit weird that you ask a lady to get in your car out of the blue? You didn’t have to be such a creep!”

“Oh yeah.. I see that.”

“I’m so sorry if we threw you off Y/N.”

“It’s okay” you answered before you sneezed loudly. “Crap.”

“I knew you’d get the sniffles out there.” Mumbled Horace.

After a while it dawned on you. If they worked with Artie then their boss had to be?

Your thoughts were only confirmed by the giant words you read outside:

House of DeVil

“Heh you see the funny thing? It’s spelled devil but it’s pronounced DeVil!”

“Mate if I have to hear you say that again I might throw myself from the Big Ben” said Jasper.

They led you into a side of the place you hadn’t seen on your first visit, her office was on the west-most part of the building, whereas now you headed in the opposite direction. With a smile and a “See you later” Jasper left you in what seemed to be a backstage/preparation sort of room, equipped with a bunch of vanity tables each with their own lighted mirror. On one of the walls sat a big storage cabinet and drawer chest which could only be filled with makeup.

Dripping coat now in hand, you cursed at yourself loudly when you caught a good glimpse of your wet clothes on one of the mirrors.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.” said a raspy voice behind you.

You spun on your heels to find the black and white haired woman standing by the door, cane in one hand and a folder in the other.

"I hope the boys didn't catch you at a bad time, darling, did they?" She asked.

"Well-"

"Good. So, my Spring collection will hit the runaway in two days. I do hope Artie told you that." she said, interrupting you.

"I mean, yes, but I didn't think I-"

And she cut you off again "So I do believe that today and tomorrow will be more than enough for you to practise your final looks for the show."

"So you're saying I'm hired? Now?"

"Why yes darling, why else would you be here?" she said with a malicious smile. "Follow me."

She led you to an adjacent room where you recognised the pieces from your "job interview", but also a couple more. One in particular grabbed your attention. There was no way you could describe it, just that it was exactly the type of piece you would gravitate toward. You had a fluid style, but this one somehow held your essence.

“They are magnificent, aren’t they?” she exclaimed in awe as if she hadn’t been the one designing them.

You hated to give her credit, but she was extremely talented, and there was no denying that those pieces were stunning. “Yes.” you answered when you realised it wasn’t just a rhetorical question.

“Soak them in a bit, they look much better in the flesh than on paper.”

“Here” she gave you the folder she had been holding. “I’ll have to lock the room up, but you can still conjure the looks.”

Although you tried very hard to stop it, while she was locking the room you sneezed again.

“Oh, darling, don’t you dare be ill for my show. I’ll have someone send you something to change into.”

“Thank you.” You said, once again, only not to come off as cross. Not that you cared to be very nice to her, mostly because you wanted to prove to yourself you weren’t mean like her.

“Gratitude’s for losers.” She answered, and it was all you needed to hear in your already annoyed state to snap back.

“What? Being polite is for losers?” and before she could say anything you added “I bet you think apologising is also for losers. Well, I’m sorry that you think being a decent human makes you weak.”

Instead of being mad at you, she only looked at you with an amused look about her, and oh boy did that make your anger burn even brighter. The silence was starting to really get to you, but thankfully, Artie came to the rescue as he so often did.

Only spotting you at first he exclaimed “Hello lovergirl!” you turned around to give him a look of why would you say that, and he only smiled in answer and greeted your boss as well.

She narrowed her eyes at the two of you and said “Oh? What have we here? Are you two…?”

You and Artie turned to each other and burst into laughter. Once he caught his breath again he answered no as you shook your head exaggeratedly. “That would be as if hell froze over!” he said.

“I thought you two were friends?” you said, confused that she would assume that Artie (of all people) would be dating you. “Cause of course he- well, we are friends with Dorothy.”

She answered only with a curious look and you said to Artie “I told you to stop calling me that in public.”

“And I’ve told you under what conditions I would stop.” he retorted.

Him mocking you again made you huff in frustration “I’m off to work, I guess” you said walking past him to get back to the makeup room.

“Not so fast foxy mama! I’m going to explain to you how the dice are going to roll on Friday. I’ll join you in a minute, let me just talk to the boss.”

Only you couldn’t stand being around her another minute so you walked away anyway. Then when he joined you, looking back down the hallway to check that she was gone, he poked fun at you one more time.

“I’ll stop calling you that once you stop swooning over every girl you meet.”

“It’s not my fault women are literal Goddesses walking among us! And I don’t swoon over every girl I meet.”

“Yeah? Give me one example.”

“Well… Her for one!” you answered, pointing outside the room.

“Sure, I’ll pretend I believe you.”

“Artie!! Don’t offend me like that, she’s the worst! If you didn’t come in just then she might have set me on fire.” when he raised his eyebrows in question you said “I might have gotten a bit snappy and told her that being nice wouldn’t kill her.”

“Either way, I was going to ask, how did you know what time to pick me up?” you asked when you remembered how you got there in the first place.

“Pick you up?” he looked at you confused.

“Yeah, the two funny guys. Jasper and Horace I believe it was, from the record label thing”

“Oh the boys picked you up? I didn’t know they did? And how did it go?”

“Well they told me you sent them to get me. And the meeting was cancelled, like, no explanation, just off.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”

But the circumstances of your mysterious ride there remained that way, because a girl came knocking on the door to give you the promised change of clothes. After that the two of you forgot about it and busied yourselves with work.

You spent the two days working closely with the models to make sure you could do everything flawlessly on the big day, and especially the girl who would be walking with that one dress, the signature piece for the show. Her name was Elizabeth Jones (who you called Lilly), and thanks to your friendliness, you actually got along with her well, not a friend per say, but a known face to greet around the workplace. Maybe the two of you worked a bit too close, or maybe she was just a bit more prone to it, because on the second day she started showing signs of having caught your sniffles. By the time your colleagues were heading back home -too late to still be at work either way- she looked awful, a bad fever coming up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday came by, the chaos in that building only getting more chaotic each minute the show approached. You were to spend the most part of it backstage, and you weren’t even mad about it, the fancy people who would be attending had to be all of that rude type.

But of course things couldn’t happen as planned.

About two hours before the guests arrived, you stumbled your way to the bathroom carrying Lilly, impossibly pale, and very much not okay. While she retched on the toilet you wet a towel to clean the sweat off, and held her crying in your arms and assuring her she would be okay.

Until she really wasn’t, and passed out on you.

At that you asked for the first person you saw to keep an eye on her while you ran to snatch some water and sugar from the kitchens. When you reached the door you were stopped by a cane on your arm.

“And what would you be doing here darling? So far away from your spot.” she asked, the last face you needed to see now, but also the one person who needed to know what was happening.

“Yeah we kinda have a situation… Lilly’s out cold. She really isn’t feeling well, I think we should take her to the hospital or call an ambulance or something.”

“Who?”

“Elizabeth? Your main model! The one with your signature piece!” you exclaimed.

“And so you came to the kitchen?” she asked.

“Yeah, to get her some water and sugar, basic passed out person treatment.” you answered, opening the door and going inside to look for it.

“How about the other ones? Have you finished their makeup?”

“Yes, everyone was ready to go”

“Well it’s not your job to nanny her. And she better be up and going for the show, we don’t have a replacement for her.” and though she said that with her usual coolness, you could sense she was not happy about it at all. “I don’t think you understand, but the spring collection is the most important event of the year.”

Sugar water now in hand, you moved back out and past her and said “I don’t think you understand, but the only place she’s going tonight is the hospital. She probably got my cold, but for some reason it hit her like a truck.”

She was walking fast to keep up with you, now clearly mad. “If she can’t do it then we won’t have anyone to walk the piece! I will be wearing my own gown, I can’t do it. And it was made to her measurements.”

Reaching the bathroom again you thanked whoever had been there, and asked for them to call an ambulance. Then you put the cup down on the floor and grabbed her face (now sort of conscious) with both hands. “Hey! Hey, please stay awake for me? We’re getting you to a hospital baby, you’ll be okay. Now I’m gonna need you to drink this.” you handed her the cup and put your hand to her forehead, burning as expected.

In between sips and sobs you reassured her and rubbed soft circles on her back, Cruella awfully silent by the door.

“Y/N what size are you?” she asked all of a sudden.

“What? Are you saying I should walk the signature piece?” You asked in shock.

“Yes darling, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I don’t think there’s a better option.”

You told her your rough measurements and she stormed off, leaving you to your mum duty while the ambulance arrived. When it did, you carried Lilly outside and then came back in, finding Artie.

“Where is Cruella?” You asked him.

“Backstage, but trust me you don’t want to talk to her right now.” he said.

“I know, she must be pissed. I just shipped Lilly off to the hospital, and guess who will replace her?”

“Are you joking? Cruella put you on the runway? Oh that’s why she was fuming. I found her altering the dress, didn’t even know what had gotten into her.” he said, leading you to the back.

When he knocked on the door to the sewing room she told you to “Get over here” without even looking at you. She handed you the dress to put on and grabbed her pins while Artie helped you put it on. Stabbing you with them a couple times she put everything in place and then took a couple steps back to look at you. On her face was an expression you couldn’t quite place, she was angry but also somehow looked pleased to see you wearing the piece.

“So, as I’m sure, you are no stranger to being on the stage, you will just walk up to the front, stop for a moment, and wait for the others to join you, you are the last one but in the end you all walk together.” she said to you. You ignored the fact that she knew about your concerts and stuff and decided to concentrate only on what to do so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself.

“You can take it off now, I’ll take care of sewing everything in place while you go off to get your makeup and hair done. We have half an hour I believe? Artie please go check that everything else isn’t going terribly wrong.”

You got back into the makeup room, and as you got ready, you quickly told the story to the other models, hoping for your life they wouldn’t be super pissed that you, and not one of them, a person who was hired to do this very job, got to do the most important one. Though given that you had become friendly with them, there was nothing much to really worry about, and they actually gave you tips on what to do.

It hadn’t settled into your mind that you were doing this until you were all ready and waiting for your cue to walk on stage. To your surprise, given that a while ago you had come face to face with the worst case scenario you could imagine, the night flowed beautifully.

|| Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Wattpad link ||

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scummy-writes · 3 years

Text

Arthur Week Day 4: Nightmares

Rating: G

Words: 1925

Pairing: Arthur/Mc

Full fic under the cut!

『• • • ✎ • • •』

How did you get into this situation? You peeked up at Arthur as you tugged his dark blue bed sheets over your shoulder, watching the way his eyes scanned the pages of the book he held in his hands. He sat beside you, one pillow behind his back while you sleepily nuzzled into the other, trying to ignore how the scent of his cologne surrounded you.

The only light on was the lamp by the bed at the perfect height for him to comfortably read with. The warm glow helped ease your nerves, especially as it made Arthur look more… mature with the way it framed his features. Relaxing. It was almost hard to believe this was the same man that constantly, lovingly, teased all the residents. Or that this was the same man that joked time after time about whisking you away from here, to a home just for the two of you.

For a moment, his gaze dipped away from the book, meeting yours, making your heart speed up again at being caught ogling. But he just smiled, quietly shutting his book.

"You look like you're ready to fall asleep, luv."

When you nodded, shyly returning your focus on snuggling into the sheets, he set his book upon his desk. Then his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a moment.

Soon, the pads of his fingers gently brushed your bangs aside. Tucking your hair behind your ear he hummed in thought.

"Would you rather go back to your room or would you like to stay here for the night?"

You were surprised he was giving you a choice. Honestly, you thought he was about to tell you to leave. While he teased and flirted with you on occasion, none of this was the excitement he seemed to seek out each night. Instead, it was boring. Comfortable, for you at least, and… embarrassing, giving the context.

But if you had to give an answer…

"Could I stay here?"

"Of course."

The lamp clicked off not a moment after, leaving you trying to readjust to the faint moonlight from the window that stretched over the room. You had a hunch he left the curtains open for you, but you didn't voice it as he settled into bed, letting out a content sigh.

"Mmh… Hey, bird?" You let out a hum of acknowledgment, feeling his fingers ghost along your cheek in a gentle caress before thumbing the skin there. "You said you had a nightmare, right?"

Yes… Earlier in the kitchen, where he had ran into you drinking a glass of water, trying to shake off the haunting images of your dream. He had still been awake writing, given the empty mug he was carrying in and the glasses he wore, but upon seeing you he seemed to drop any further plans he had that night, trying to coax out the reason you seemed so shaken up.

Which led you here, with his chest close enough to nuzzle into if you so wanted.

"Y-yeah…"

"Do you want me to stay awake until you fall asleep?"

"No, no, you don't have to go that far."

"Mm… You're right, I don't have to. But if it made you feel better, I would without a second thought, darling."

Heat rose to your cheeks hearing his rare pet name for you. "Just… just this is enough. It's more than enough." Then quieter, but no less honest. "...Thank you, Arthur."

"Mhm, anytime, bird. I'm always up late, and if I'm not ready to sleep yet you can rest here while I write."

"That sounds really nice…"

There was a beat of silence as a soft smile played at his lips and, feeling your heart stir against your will, you tightened the sheets around your shoulders. And speaking of, you couldn't help but trail your eyes over his, and then drag them towards his chest…

Arthur seemed to read you well even in the dark. With a quiet come here, he coaxed you into cuddling up to him; gently, of course. All it took was a comforting arm around you, and you gave in, letting Arthur hug you close.

Surely it was fine to do this, right? You were still shaken up over the dreams that had plagued you tonight- of course, the thunderous ba-dum against your ribs was from that, and not from finally knowing what it felt like to be held by Arthur.

(And God, did he smell so good.)

"You know… it doesn't have to be a nightmare. Even if you're just having a bad day, you can come to me and I'll do what I can to help."

When he got like this it was nearly impossible to refrain from melting into his arms. And you seemed to anyway, feeling yourself start to fade as he began to slowly rub your back.

"Mmh… Are you sure?"

"Dove, I'd do just about anything you asked."

This time, you didn't wake with a start. Rather, a slow few blinks mixed with a haze of confusion. Until you took a deep breath, remembering last night with the faint smell of coffee and musk.

The sun was yet to be seen, and you wondered how long you managed to sleep. Not enough, given how tired you still felt.

Glancing up, you saw that Arthur was still asleep. You idly wondered about the dream he was having as he stirred, only pulling you into a firmer embrace.

Was this why women chased after him so much? That, aside from the promise of pleasure he made well on, he would make them feel… safe?

Though, imagining that with other women felt off, especially the few times you had witnessed him coming back the morning after; weary, slightly out of character. With the additions of Theo's murmurings to you, you almost had half a mind to think he'd only do this for you.

Almost.

The mood soured by your own thoughts, you attempted to fall back asleep to the sound of his sleepy sighs- but it felt hopeless, as your mood sunk while the sun rose.

~☆~

True to his word, Arthur apparently would do anything you asked of him. It felt silly; being an adult and still seeking comfort so late at night. But instead of nightmares haunting you, it was memories refusing to stay buried. Something you didn't realize you had in common with Arthur until later that night.

When he had answered your knock, he did seem surprised, but moreso he looked weary. His smile couldn't seem to reach his eyes as he ushered you inside, which made your cheeks burn from shame, thinking that you were truly inconveniencing him and he was just too nice to say so. (Because really, how old were you now?)

But before any hasty apologies could spill out of you he was admitting how little sleep he had gotten lately. Arthur threw out the excuse of a manuscript keeping him up, but the smell of ink was nowhere to be found, and his desk was oddly bare.

"You can go ahead and hop into bed, my dove, I'll just be a moment."

His soft words were accompanied by a gentle pat on your shoulder before he turned around, opening his dresser drawers to pick out a fresh set of pajamas. Arthur changed in his small bathroom as you crawled into his bed, already feeling your body relax at the missed comfort.

Truly, Arthur could be too kind, you thought. Despite his countless warnings of the same vice towards you, maybe he was better off worrying about himself. After all, you weren't the one who looked so worn down and ragged when finally settling into bed.

Arthur spared a strained smile your way once the lights were out, the moonlight once again providing a soothing atmosphere.

"I may end up falling asleep first this time. I hope you'll forgive me for that."

"I’ve already told you that you didn't have to stay up for my sake, Arthur. I'll be okay." You stalled for a moment before inching closer, gingerly resting your hand on his side, "just being with you is enough for me."

"Mm…" His exhaustion showed with his lazy and crooked smile that made your heart flutter as he pulled you into his embrace, nuzzling against your hair, "be careful, bird, you'll lead me to believe that's under a different context."

The tease was meant to provoke a flustered reply, but you stayed silent, cheeks glowing as you imagined the context he was referring to.

You awoke to panting. Honestly, you almost fell back asleep immediately, and the only reason you didn't was due to the jolt that seemed to go through Arthur. And in just a blink, you were pushed off his chest rather abruptly, causing you to scramble to sit up.

Impulsively, you cut on the bedside light, just to be greeted by a shame-stricken Arthur. His eyes wavered with something you couldn’t quite catch, and then he was looking elsewhere, chest heaving as apologies stumbled out from him.

"Just- just a nightmare, luv. I-I didn't mean to wake you, not like that."

Drowsiness still taking hold of most of your thoughts, you nodded along, letting yourself catch your breath from the sudden start. And then you ran his words through your head again, frowning.

What nightmare had brought forth such a startling reaction?

Judging by the embarrassment still clouding his features- and his outright refusal to look you in the eye- it didn't seem like one he would be too keen on sharing. For an idle moment, you let yourself consider what would keep him awake at night, and how different the causes might be from your own.

The thought has you easing yourself under the covers again, hesitantly reaching for his arm and thumbing the patch of skin under his sleeve, muttering.

"… I'm here for you too, you know?"

Arthur’s breath stopped as he processed the words, shyly glancing your way.

"W-we don't have to talk about it, unless you want to that is, but…" Your cheeks burned, "you're always willing to ease my fears. Let me do the same?"

Arthur’s scoff almost made you recoil until he spoke, "rather sore I've let you see me in such a state," and then another look your way, "... but I do appreciate it, luv."

Wordlessly, you lifted your arm up- just enough for him to snuggle into your embrace with a self-deprecating chuckle against your shoulder.

"Thank you. For feeling sympathy for such a sorry bloke as myself."

“It’s okay to need a little help now and then, Arthur.”

His deep sigh gusted against your neck, making your cheeks burn further while you focused on his words,“... I do need that reminder now and again.”

“I’ll be here to give it to you,” Gingerly, you rubbed his back, thankful when he let himself relax into your hold, “... whenever you need.”

“Mm… Thank you, darling. I really mean it.”

There wasn’t much more to be said. Arthur only mumbled a few more tired apologies for his dazed behavior, and then he was fast asleep in your arms, his slow breathing helping lull your eyes closed.

True to his word, Arthur had been exhausted, and now the reason behind that was clear. Whether or not this same reason was behind other nights you saw of him in such a state was unclear, but… Hopefully, as he had been doing for you, you could ease his troubles and help him during those moments.

At least a little, right?

-------

Day four of Arthur Week! *wheezes* this was originally supposed to be longer but, ah... you all know the ol song and dance by now o|-< things didn't come out like I wanted and this is what I made do with.

Arthur is a godawful flirt, but I always appreciate the moments of genuine kindness he has, in or out of his route. Shows a Lot about him.

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist | Ikevamp Server

Tag list (I remembered this time!):

@aeoncryptic @kodzukenspie @anianakin @judgemental-seal @shookspearewrites @cauldroncatx @stehkotori @niintendoqs @otomefoxystar @blu-tigerr @jazzellen @cinnatwisted @buswilligan @tacogawa @kim-stitches @passionatebooklover @rinringo23 @aurora-morning @ike-simp @kimmy-banana

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed! Thank you!

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #arthur week #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #soft starts to relationships always get to me #dont look at me im a sap weeps

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

That’s The Way (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warning(s): Jimmy and Y/N falling in love at first sight🥺, nsfw insinuations in the beginning but nothing bad, language

Author’s notes: It’s Jimmy time, mates! I’m so sorry for making you wait so long! Slow burns can suck like that sometimes. I hope you’re enjoying the plot so far, and that it wasn’t what you expected! There’s so much more drama to come, though, so I hope you’re excited for that😂 As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

------

Y/N’s train ride home from The Yardbirds’ hotel was a constant swirl of what the fucks booming in her mind: what the fuck just happened, what the fuck does this mean, what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck is Jim doing, what the fuck will this become?

Out of all the things on God’s good, green earth he could have wanted, he wanted her to kiss him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Y/N thought when she initially heard the request. Then, when she questioned it, he escalated it to a blowjob since she thought a kiss was “too tame.” Y/N eventually did kiss Jim, as he wished. She was pretty sure that he still wanted her to kiss him after his little upgrade, and boy, was she right. ‘He called me a princess’, she remembered...what the hell was that supposed to mean?

As contradictory as it was, her mind was racing with so many thoughts, yet, at the same time, none at all. She was in overdrive, unable to think straight. Y/N forced herself to come to her senses as the train neared her stop, since her parents could not see the sheer bewilderment in her eyes and facial expression as she walked into her home. They would ask question after question, interrogating her as if she had committed a crime they had to get to the bottom of. She had to admit, reluctantly, that this was exciting. The star-studded aspect of it, the secrecy… It was a rollercoaster ride, yet Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to get off anytime soon. In the back of her mind, though, she knew this little dalliance wasn’t going to lead to anything serious.

Jim, however, currently sitting at the foot of his bed in an empty hotel room, was in a complete daze. He couldn’t comprehend that this was reality. The most beautiful girl in the whole world had just sucked him off, and then kissed him! She was completely obedient yet willing, and adorably shy, blushing every two seconds. But the kiss. It was dizzyingly soft, sweet, and passionate on her part. To Jim, this meeting of lips was perfect. Addictive. Devastatingly addictive, like a drug. He wanted more. Her lips were something else to taste and feel. He wondered if she would ever come back to him with intimate intentions. Perhaps even to spend the night, or something even more serious. By the way she so often smiled in a bright and enthusiastic way, Jim thought she just might. He had come to the conclusion, after continuously replaying what had happened just minutes ago in his head, that he was falling hopelessly in love with this girl. His Y/N.

Jim had never felt like this before.

And he didn’t know what to do about it.

~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later...

Y/N’s mum had sent her and her brother Charlie by train into London to go grocery shopping, and perhaps to visit Carnaby Street, Portobello Market, and the Oxfam charity shops to get some new clothes for themselves. Pushing the cart around the supermarket, Y/N and Charlie looked intently at the handwritten list their mum had given them.

“Alright, what do we need next?” Y/N asked, her head tilted to see the small piece of paper.

“Uh, we still have to get oatmeal, eggs, and some fruits and vegetables,” Charlie replied, mirroring Y/N’s position as he gazed down at the list in his hands, which was slowly being painted with black ink. They were making good time, all things considered.

“Let’s go to the produce section then, so we can get everything all in one go,” Y/N decided, starting to push the cart in that direction.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Charlie’s nod served as confirmation, and the two walked on, gazes captured every-so-often by the gaggle of people passing by.

Once the two siblings reached their desired destination, Y/N began inspecting the clear clamshell containers of assorted berries as Charlie went to fetch a bag of broccoli florets and a variety of potatoes. As Y/N began placing the fruit in the cart, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

She turned around to see a very domestic-looking Jeff Beck, pushing around a grocery cart, just like she was. It was odd to see him going about his life as though he was just an ordinary working-class man, especially being the revered guitar god he was. Y/N laughed at the sight as he came over towards her.

“Hi Jeff,” Y/N greeted, walking over to give him a hug.

“Hello darling,” he responded, tilting the girl back and forth in the hug, long arms cradling her against his chest. “How are you doing?”

Y/N looked at him with a small grin after pulling away. An exhale passes through pursed lips as she replies. “As well as I can be, I guess. How ‘bout you?”

“Can’t complain,” he smiled, which then turned a little more solemn. He reached out a hand to place on her upper arm in solace. “I’m still really sorry about Sam, love. I wish I could’ve told you, but he swore me to secrecy… and I don’t want to lose my job just yet.”

“Don’t worry about it, I completely understand. It’s not your fault.” Y/N’s chuckle chimed through the air, much like the birdsongs that seemed to fill the space around them, and she paused, “I’ve done quite a bit of soul-searching recently, and I don’t think I truly loved him...the situation was all so new and exciting, that it made me believe I did. But now, I realize I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you found the light at the end of the tunnel, kid. But that’s life, Y/N. You win some and you lose some.”

“Thank you, Jeff. Really. For being so supportive,” Y/N said in gratitude, as Jeff flashed her a toothy smile.

“Ah, don’t mention it...actually, it’s funny I ran into you because I was actually going to call you, but I… may have lost your number.” A sheepish hand ran through the short hair at the nape of his neck, and Y/N giggles at the man’s hesitancy.

“That’s okay. Here, I’ll write it down for you,” Y/N grinned as she took out a spare piece of paper and a pen from her bag, “what did you need to call me for?”

Jeff watched Y/N’s hands as she scribbled down her number. Her handwriting was neat, soft spirals decorating the ends of her letters. Playful, yet full of grace. Just like her, Jeff thought. “There’s a May Ball at Queen’s College in Oxford on the 18th, and I was wondering if you’d like to come. It’s outdoors, and it should be a nice day.”

As Y/N handed Jeff the piece of paper, he continued. “More importantly, a good friend of mine is attending, and I thought you would like to meet him. You two are pretty similar, so I think you’ll hit it off really well.”

“Do you mean that this meeting is supposed to be a sort of… romantic proposition?” Y/N tilted her head in playful confusion.

Jeff smirked. “Not necessarily. He’s friends with the rest of the guys, so it’s only fair that you meet him, since we consider you a part of our inner circle.”

Y/N grinned at his statement, shaking her head, a chuckle tumbling past her lips. “Well, for the record, Jeff, I’m retired from dating for a while,” she admitted, “the whole thing with Paul shook me up a bit, and I need time to trust again, y’know?”

“Yeah, I understand. But my friend is a nice bloke, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much, or put up a front. If you’re uncomfortable, of course we can—”

Charlie came running up to Y/N’s cart and placed the bags of broccoli and potatoes inside. He then stood next to Y/N to see this stranger that she was talking to. Jeff noticed the little boy who suddenly appeared next to Y/N, and smiled warmly. Pointing to the boy, and changing his voice to be a bit gentler than usual, he asked, “Who’s this, Y/N?”

“This is my little brother Charlie,” Y/N said, softly putting her hand on her brother’s back, bringing him to the forefront. Charlie widely smiled at Jeff, baring his childish grin that was missing a couple teeth. Charlie couldn't wait until they grew in, because it would “finally make him look like a real man”, as he exclaimed so often at home.

Jeff crouched down to Charlie’s level and stuck out his hand to shake Charlie’s. “Nice to meet ya, mate. I’m Jeff, a friend of your sister’s.”

Charlie’s eyes widened as he recognized who this man was. “Jeff Beck?” Charlie asked hopefully, “as in the guitar god, Jeff Beck?”

Jeff chuckled as he looked up at Y/N. “Is this the shit you’ve been feeding him?” Y/N nodded and laughed.

“There’s an ounce of truth in that statement, isn't there, Beck?”

“Yes, I’m Jeff Beck, but I’m just the lead guitarist for The Yardbirds. The guitar god title goes to Hendrix, or Scotty Moore,” Jeff explained. What a humble change of pace for Jeff, Y/N thought.

Jeff stood back up and walked with Y/N and her brother throughout the store, pushing their carts in sync and grabbing food as they went. He asked her about what she was up to musically, and she talked about how she was polishing up some Debussy and Rachmaninoff pieces, as well as fiddling around with some old Fats Domino and Everly Brothers records. Charlie and Jeff bonded over their love of cars, which made Y/N very happy.

~~~~~~~~

18th June 1966

The day of the May Ball came. Y/N was excited for the show, but she didn’t want a sour encounter with Paul to ruin her good time. Jeff had called her earlier in the week to give her instructions on what to do upon arrival, and how to access the backstage area safely.

The backstage area was a white tent with the sides covered. Inside, there were multiple long tables of different distinguished people, such as Mama Cass and Graham Nash. Alcohol and little finger foods littered the tables, served in such abundance that it seemed no one was going to see tomorrow.

Y/N walked over to where she saw her friends, and upon spotting the girl, they all waved and said their cheerful hellos. Y/N walked over to sit with them, and ended up taking a seat between Chris and Jeff, crossing her legs and folding her hands in a sophisticated manner, always the lady she was taught to be. She chose her seat at the table very carefully, sitting very far away from Paul Samwell-Smith.

As everyone chatted away, she noticed there was a tall, thin young man with short, dark wavy hair who sat down in a seat between Jeff and Keith, delicately holding a flute of champagne. He was looped back into the conversation immediately, as if he had known the band his whole life. When Y/N saw him, her heart stopped.

This new boy was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He looked like an English James Dean; with the kind of attractiveness that anyone, male or female, completely swooned over with a single glance. This stranger could get anything he wanted at the drop of a hat, with his gorgeous looks and his graceful countenance. He had a sullen, mysterious edge to him, but he also looked gentle and sweet at the same time. He had eyes as green as a forest full of lush deciduous trees, flawlessly framed by dark, bushy eyebrows and accented by long, thick eyelashes. His nose was adorable, petite as it was, and his lips were full and pouty. His smile and laugh made Y/N melt on the inside, his perfectly straight teeth illuminating his porcelain face.

For a moment, Y/N thought she was in love. She was pulled back from her daydream quickly, though, because Jeff realized that now was the perfect opportunity to introduce his two friends.

“Y/N, this is my friend Jimmy, who I was telling you about,” Jeff said, getting Y/N’s attention. Y/N grinned as she refocused on the situation.

Jimmy turned towards Jeff when he heard his name, and that’s when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sitting right next to Jeff. Lucky bastard.

His breath hitched in his throat upon sight of this girl. She was perfect; she looked like an actual angel. The way her hair, soft-looking and slightly wispy in the light summer wind, cascaded down her shoulders; her doe-eyes seemed to twinkle in the dimming light of day, pulling him in like the strongest of currents. Her pillowy, supple lips encased a perfect smile, slightly crooked. It was, like the rest of her, completely endearing.

It was then, looking at this beautiful woman, (Y/N… Jeff had said her name, hadn't he?) that Jimmy remembers he was taken. His girlfriend, Jackie DeShannon, was waiting for him at home, but he only had eyes for the girl in front of him, and it would stay that way, it seemed.. He had to get to know her.

Jimmy snapped out of his hypnosis in the nick of time. He softly smiled at Y/N, a smile that made Y/N’s insides lurch, holding out his hand for her to shake as he turned on the charm. “Jimmy Page,” he initiated, his voice being softer and more calming than Y/N expected.

Y/N shyly smiled at him, a dark pink flush gracing her natural complexion, as she reached out to grasp his hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jeff has told me about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Y/N beamed, a feigned contemplative look on her face.

“How do you know Jeff?” Jimmy asked, turning his body towards her, now fully invested in getting to know Y/N.

“I met him...a year ago I wanna say? Is that right, Jeff? At a Yardbirds gig at the Marquee,” Y/N asked for clarification. The last thing she wanted to do is lie about Jeff to Jimmy, even if it was something as insignificant as this. In addition, she wanted to use Jeff as a temporary crutch in the conversation. Jimmy’s beauty was making her feel shyer than she already was; she felt as if she was curling into herself.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jeff intervened, “but she didn’t just meet me, she met the whole band.”

Jeff immediately noticed that the band was leaving the table to get ready to go on stage. Jimmy and Y/N didn’t even notice the table’s departure because they were so wrapped up in each other’s presence and words. Jimmy even moved a seat over to get closer to Y/N, although he said it was an attempt to “hear her better since the room was so loud of drunken buffoons”. Y/N had giggled at that, and it had sounded like music to the man’s ears. Jimmy was completely taken with her, as easy as it was to see.

“Wait, so how do you know Jeff?” Y/N asked curiously.

“I've known him since I was… gosh… thirteen or fourteen? We bonded over the guitar and blues. Indian music, too,” Jimmy grinned, taking a sip of his warming champagne.

“You play the guitar too?” Y/N gasped. Jimmy nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Oh jeez, I should’ve known! No wonder you’re tight with the Yardbirds,” she giggled.

Jimmy’s eyes twinkled at her now-flustered demeanor. “You’re okay, Y/N,” he chuckled, placing a hand gently on her forearm. Y/N felt her entire body break out into chills.

“I’m a session musician, actually,” he began, his hand lingering on the girl’s arm, for what seemed like a millennium to Y/N. “I’d hate to simplistically explain what a session musician is to someone like you if you already know what it is.” It sounded like he was holding back a bout of embarrassed laughter. “You must be quite intelligent, especially in matters of music, if Jeff has stuck by you for all this time.”

Y/N smiled bashfully. He’s so sensitive, she thought dreamily. “Yes, I know what a session musician is,” she giggled, “I’ve been a piano player all my life, so I know a thing or two about what you blokes are talking about when it comes to music.”

Jimmy’s heart began to thump a little faster as his smile widened. “Wow! That’s brilliant. Are you classically trained then?”

“Yes, but I do know quite a bit of blues numbers.”

“Oh, so you really know what you’re talking about! I have to admit, although I am a session musician, I’m not particularly good at reading music. Maybe you could teach me a few things about sight reading and we can jam some time?”

Y/N blushed as her lips pursed together in a grin. “I would love that. We’d have so much fun!” The way that Y/N’s full lips twisted together in a smile looked so damn kissable to Jimmy.

“My girlfriend was actually supposed to teach me music theory, but we never got around to it, unfortunately,” Jimmy continued.

“Ah, okay. Well, if you give me a time, date, and place, we can definitely make it work,” Y/N beamed.

“Wonderful!” An awkward, pregnant pause filled the space, and Y/N cleared her throat, unconsciously sliding closer to Jimmy. There was almost a magnetic pull to him, and Y/N was caught up in it.

“So, what’s it like being a session musician? I’m sure you get asked that all the time,” Y/N laughed.

Jimmy smiled. “It’s quite grueling, brutal at times, but I find it fulfilling. One mistake, and you’re fired, so it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh wow! That must be horrible to deal with.”

“Yeah, sometimes the pressure can really settle into you, but for me it dissipates once I’m in the booth. There’s three sessions a day, five days a week, so I don’t have much time for leisure. It’s been getting really dry lately since all I’m playing is rhythm guitar. I love experimentation and stretching out on lead guitar, so constant rhythm is getting quite annoying.”

“I understand where you’re coming from then, from a creative standpoint. How long have you been a session player?”

“Four years, roughly.”

“You must be quite dedicated then!” Y/N exclaimed, “who have you played with?”

“Oh gosh,” Jimmy exhaled deeply, calloused fingers raising to land on his chin. Slight stubble shadows it, and the sharp scent of aftershave wafted towards the girl. Lost in the scent, Y/N nearly missed his reply. “The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Donovan, The Who, Petula Clark, Jackie DeShannon, Carter Lewis and the Southerners, Neil Christian and the Crusaders, Herman’s Hermits, Marianne Faithfull… just to name a few.”

“Wow! What a resumé!” she gushed, “That’s incredible. You should be so proud, Jimmy.”

“Thank you very much, love, I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, an announcer’s booming voice cut through Jimmy and Y/N’s conversation as he introduced the Yardbirds to the stage. As the five men walked on, Jimmy stood up from his chair.

“Come with me to the wings so we can see and hear them better,” he smiled, holding out his arm for Y/N to take. Y/N agreed, standing up and linking her arm with Jimmy’s as they walked in sync to the side of the stage.

The first few numbers were played perfectly, and it was clear that the audience (and even the road crew) were enchanted by the spectacle. Y/N knew from past shows that the next song would be “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” and she knew that they always knocked that one out of the park. It was always stimulating and explosive.

Jeff and Chris began the opening riff, the low E, G, and A notes thundering out of the monitors melodically. Just as Keith sang “got a train” on his cue, he fell straight backward and hit his head off Jim’s bass drum. Jimmy and Y/N’s jaws dropped in shock as a loud gasp echoed through the air from the audience. The music abruptly stopped as the rest of the band crowded around Keith’s fallen figure to see if he was alright. Murmurings of “fucking hells” were all that were spoken from the road crew as they tried to redeem the concert.

“He was drunk,” Jimmy whispered to Y/N giddily, “he was completely out to lunch and wobbling as he walked onstage.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Y/N replied quietly with a grin, “that definitely explains all the empty bottles and glasses on the table.”

Momentarily, Keith got back up and motioned for the band to restart “Train Kept A-Rollin’” and they finished the song without another mishap. The rest of the set was completed smoothly, and everything sounded sonically incredible. Jimmy and Y/N stood close together the entire time, Jimmy sneaking glances at Y/N from time to time. He lost his breath with the way her eyes were almost aglow in the fading light, and her soft-looking lips parted in childlike wonder as she watched the live music.

The Yardbirds came off the stage, begrudgingly making their way into the backstage tent, where Jimmy and Y/N had situated themselves. No one looked happy, especially Paul. Jeff had his usual stoic look, but he was rushing around for any alcoholic beverage he could find to ease his nerves after what could have been the worst possible scenario.

Everyone took a seat at the table where they were before the show. Jimmy and Y/N sat next to each other as they took in the distressed expressions of the five other men. Jeff was slumped in his chair, next to Jimmy, taking swigs of a beer he’d found. Jim and Chris just stared at the ground, drink in hand. Paul just looked royally pissed off, to the point that it almost scared Y/N. Keith, however, was still totally out of it in his drunken stupor.

“Hey, Jim,” Jeff said quietly to Jimmy, “look, you know, I’m really sorry about the gig. I’m sure you aren’t interested in joining the band now…”

“Oh no,” Jimmy chuckled, “that was amazing! Absolutely brilliant! I loved it.”

Y/N’s interest piqued as she heard their whispers of new information. “Wait! Jimmy’s joining the band? I thought there were only supposed to be five live Yardbirds,” she whispered.

Jeff leaned over Jimmy to whisper back to Y/N. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I didn’t tell you this already. Paul is probably going to leave the group...and I think it might be sooner than we thought, especially after the whole Keith fiasco...Jimmy is going to take his place on bass, and hopefully he’ll take on dual lead guitar at some point. Then Chris will do bass,” Jeff’s eyes diverted to Paul, who was sitting with his arms crossed and face angry, staring off into space. Jimmy and Y/N followed Jeff’s line of sight mischievously.

“Oooh! Great plan,” Y/N smiled.

A little smirk creeped across Jeff’s face as he quietly counted down, “3...2...1…”

At the very prompt “1,” Paul abruptly stood up from his chair very loudly, capturing everyone’s attention.

“You know what? I’m done,” Paul exclaimed, stepping away from the chair as he pushed it in under the table.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Jim began, standing up from his own chair, “what do you mean ‘you’re done’? What the hell does that mean?”

Paul sneered at Jim. “What do you think I mean? I mean I’m done with this bullshit. I’ve had enough of the horrid travelling, not being noticed, and this drunk-off-his-ass bastard,” he exclaimed angrily, pointing at Keith.

“You need to relax, Sam,” Chris said gently, “look at everything we’ve accomplished over the last three years. You want to give that up? You’re losing your shit over one bad performance.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time now, Chris. I fucking hate it,” Paul continued, anxiously running his hands through his hair, “and you know what? Y/N hanging around all the time has made it worse. She’s just here to be our fucking groupie. She’s only eating off our clout to be friends with famous people.” The entire table went silent, looking around nervously.

Y/N’s eyes widened at Paul’s awful accusation. “Are you serious?” she shot back coldly, “I knew you were an asshole, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“Oh what, you think I don’t recognize that that’s your motive?” Paul said condescendingly.

“If you think that being absolutely obsessed with you all is my sole hobby, my motive, whatever that means... you are sadly mistaken,” Y/N responded, her eyes closing to slits and her lips pressed together in disgust.

“You’re probably sleeping with Jim or Chris now for all I know!” he shouted, arms flailing in the air.

Y/N was fuming now, standing up from her own chair facing Paul. “How dare you make me seem like I’m a whore for the Yardbirds! Even if I was sleeping with Jim or Chris, that would be none of your business because you pursued me when you were fucking married, you dipshit.”

Paul’s maddening countenance grew. “You’re just an insecure little girl who needs famous musicians around her to validate her and make feel better about herself. You’re a fucking nuisance, like a gnat that just won’t fly away even when you swat at it again and again.”

Y/N gasped, the sound drowned out by the screech of metal against tile, as Jimmy stood up from his chair. He was distraught, upset at the antics between the two bitter exes, and stepped in front of Y/N to protect her from the horrible verbal blows served by Paul Samwell-Smith. Jeff beat him by a second, as he started to berate Sam for his little episode.

“You listen up, you wanker,” Jeff started, wagging his index finger in front of Sam’s face, “you’re just being a butthurt little bitch because Y/N found out that you were married. If anyone’s the whore here, it’s you. Y/N is our friend, even Jimmy’s now, and she takes care of us and makes us happy. She’s not just some whimsy, disposable groupie like the way you used her; she’s an intelligent, sweet, pretty girl who has our best interest at heart. And we have hers. You have to be a fucking idiot not to see that.”

Paul was taken aback. “I write, produce, and play bass for this group. All you do is play lead guitar. Trust me, Beck, I’m not the idiot here.”

“Well, your goddamn head isn’t screwed on straight, then,” Jimmy added, “I’ll be taking your place, thank you very much. And you will never mistreat Y/N on my watch. Ever. I’ve known her for about an hour, and she’s already absolutely magnificent.”

Y/N’s throat felt clenched, but some of the tension was relieved when she realized how protective Jimmy was being over her. As mad as she was, butterflies filled her stomach at his warm ways.

“I’m out of here! You all suck anyway. Have a nice trip to hell, all of you,” Paul said as he walked away to the road crew to get his belongings, flipping the people at the table off.

Y/N sat back down in her chair once Paul was out of sight, slouching and holding her cheeks with her hands as she blankly stared at the edge of the table. Jimmy and the four Yardbirds dragged their chairs closer to a saddened Y/N, who was determined to fight off the tears that threatened to roll down her fury-flush cheeks.

Jeff frowned at the state of his friend, starting to softly rub her cardigan-clothed back to console her. “I’m so sorry about Sam, Y/N. His behaviour was absolutely horrendous, and I can assure you, none of the things he said about you were even close to being true.”

Keith, still a bit drunk, stood up and walked over to Y/N, planting a peck on her cheek. “We’re so glad you’re here, dear. Truly. That belligerent little asshole can suck a fat one.”

A close-lipped smile found its way on Y/N’s lips. “Thanks Keith,” she chuckled.

“I’m going to go get you a cup of water, alright love?” Chris said as he stood up to walk over towards the bar.

“Thank you so much Chris,” she called after him. Chris flashed her a kind smile as he walked away.

I guess Mum and Dad were wrong...they really do care about me, Y/N thought happily, they really, truly do.

~~~~~~~~

After the May Ball was over, and the sky was growing darker with the coming evening, Jimmy and Y/N walked around the grounds of the venue together, talking about anything and everything and sharing laughs.

The lighthearted mood took a drastic shift at one of Jimmy’s followup questions.

“So, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the whole row between you and Sam about?”

Y/N flashed a sad smile, but it quickly faded as she took a deep exhale. “Well—”

Panicked, Jimmy took this as a cue that she didn’t want to talk about it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I get it because of how heated it was. I’m just worried about you, is all,” he interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I trust you,” she replied with a pursed lip-smile. Jimmy returned the sentiment, internally relieved that Y/N had already seemed to take a liking to him.

“Alright, so about a year or so ago, I went to a Yardbirds gig at the Crawdaddy Club, a few months after I met the band for the first time. Paul asked me out after that show, and nobody told me he was married, so naturally, I accepted.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, love. What a shitty thing to do, especially to someone as wonderful as you,” Jimmy replied with a little flush, giving the girl a little rub on the small of her back.

Heat rippled throughout Y/N’s body at his touch. Regaining her composure, she sighed. “Thank you Jimmy. That means a lot. More than you know, actually.”

After a short silence, Y/N continued. “We went out for about eight months...and in retrospect, it now makes sense why I could never go over to his place. But anyway, I found out about it before the band played on Ready, Steady, Go in February. Keith, Jeff, Jim, and I were all talking at the front of the stage before rehearsals and it slipped.”

“Who ended up telling you?”

“Jim, but it was purely an accident.” Suddenly, all of the events that had happened between her and Jim guiltily flooded her mind. Now with Jimmy beginning to infiltrate her mind and cloud her vision, how was she supposed to genuinely enjoy the secrecy? Ah shit, she thought, here we go again.

“After the show, I confronted him about it,” Y/N continued, “and he was blaming me for our time together, a-and for ‘tempting’ him into asking me out just by being… me?”

“He seems like a right wanker, I can tell you that for sure,” Jimmy muttered, sliding his hand from its resting place on her back, to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly in solidarity. Y/N met his eyes then, tears filling her gaze, and Jimmy frowns. No one as lovely as her should be feeling this way. He smiles at her, and to Y/N, it is filled with comfort and appreciation. Some emotion… something akin to love, perhaps, lit a fire in her chest, and she looks away. The evening ambience does nothing to hide the traitorous blush that painted her cheeks.

“It’s getting quite dark out, love. How did you get here?” Jimmy asked, stealing another glance at a girl as she looked down at her ballet flats once more.

“I took the train, actually,” Y/N replied.

“Oh, so did I! Here, I’ll walk with you over to the station then.”

Y/N grinned at him. “That’s so kind of you, Jimmy. Thank you.”

“No problem, love. What’s your stop?” Jimmy asked as they began to make their way over to the station.

“St. Alban’s. How about you?”

“Epsom. I still live with my parents, I’m afraid,” he chuckled sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay!” she laughed with him, “so do I. It’s nice though, to still live with your parents… home-cooked meals and laundry and all. Plus sleeping in your own bed, and using your own bathroom, of course.”

“Those are very good points,” Jimmy agreed with a chuckle.

The two boarded the train once they got to the station, only waiting on the platform for a few minutes. They continued to talk all the way to St. Albans, where Y/N got off to walk home.

“Say you’ll see me again sometime soon, Y/N,” Jimmy half-asked, half-declared as she stood up to get off the train.

Y/N grinned at him. “I definitely will, Jimmy. It was so nice meeting you tonight...I loved getting to know you.”

“The feeling is mutual, love. Please stay safe and take care of yourself, okay?” he reached out his hand to grab Y/N’s, shaking it a little and smiling at her. Y/N nearly swooned at the gesture.

“I’ll try my best. You do the same as well. Have a good night!”

“Thank you, you too!” Jimmy waved as Y/N walked out the train’s doors. Her scent, a delicious mixture of vanilla with a hint of laundry detergent, lingered in the air as she passed by, weakening him both physically and his rational judgment.

He had a lot of thinking to do on the ride home.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

#that's the way #jimmy page #the yardbirds #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Note

How ‘bout Jealous Soap x reader?

Hello Earthisdonut 🌍 🍩

I saw your ask while I was at work and I can't stop thinking about how the story goes... I had a lot of ideas but as I wrote, it kept on swinging on the other direction. Maybe it's my feelings being resonated into the words or an entire force telling me to go this way. Anyways here you go...

A jealous soap x reader fic.

Take me home

You take a deep breath and closed your eyes, clearing away the mixed sounds of random chatter, loud tv commentary and the all the yelling. 'Friday evening shifts are the worst' you thought to yourself as you make your way back to your station, wearing a smile on your face.

"Hey miss!" a customer whistled from the far end of the counter. You hastily walked to him and smiled.

"What can I get you?" you asked with sincerity in your voice. You've worked long enough to master the art of faking a smile when in fact you are tired, but this job is all you have and the tips kept the bills afloat.

"Two beers and roasted nuts, please." He ordered, you were impressed at how kind he was, unlike the other new customers who reeked of rudeness and bad manners.

"Coming right up, Sir!" you winked as you tend to his order, mentally noting his tab for later. You hand him over the beer, placed on a circular chip that served as a coaster, followed by a heaping bowl of roasted nuts.

This kind of scene continued throughout the night, just with different kinds of people with different combinations of orders. You feel tired but you tend to forget it when you look at the tip jar, the thing that kept you moving forward. It's also the thing that's holding you back from life, you remembered when your best friend told you that you should unwind sometimes instead of rendering overtime during your day offs, to which you replied : "Soon enough", and that was well over a year ago.

As you wiped off the recently left spot by the counter, a well built man immediately took the spot and sat down, you tilted you head upward as the action surprised you. There he was, you couldn't miss his look, he stood out on the crowd because of his haircut, a perfectly cut mohawk and a scar on his left eye. He grinned at you, his blue eyes looked excited as soon as it met yours.

"John? I didn't know you'd be home!" You gasped as soon as you realized he's actually there, quickly putting a shot glass and pouring his favorite drink.

"Hey Y/N! I knew I'd find you here!" his hand gestured for a shake but he quickly dismissed it as soon as he realized he couldn't do it while you're at work.

"Yeah, working as always." you replied, trying to sound contented. He smiled at you as he raised his glass and downed the drink. You couldn't help but look at the way his Adam's apple moved as he consumed the drink.

His face turned into something incomprehensible as he let the taste of the strong alcohol set in, making you chuckle a little. His eyes turned to you as he heard you laugh.

"What's funny?" he asked. You simple shook you head and poured another pint on his shot glass.

"I'll be back in a few. I have to serve drinks for these wild crowd." You informed him, but as soon as you were about to step out, you hear him stand up.

"What time will you be off?" He asked.

"Two more hours." You replied without looking back. You could feel your cheeks warm up and an uncontrollable smile plastered on your face.

"Okay. I'll be here till then." he yelled as you entered the door to the employee's area.

'Shit Shit shit shit.' you whispered to yourself as you regain composure. He felt way off. He didn't act like this toward you before. You could feel something odd between you two, and you're very distracted about it.

You made your way to your manager's office to request a five minute break. You knew he'd approve a breather from you because he was a accommodating to you since day one. You believed it's because you always give it your all in every shift.

You softly knock on his office door and pushed it slightly ajar, peeking your head through it as you saw him on his desk, doing some paperwork.

"Ah, Y/N. You need anything, love?" he greeted in his usual tone. His endearment didn't matter you as he calls every female "love".

"Can I take a five? Just needed to breathe." you huffed. He nodded in approval and stood up.

"Let's puff it out, yeah?" he smiled as he offered a stick of cigarette.

The cold breeze of the Saturday evening wrapped around your work uniform. The noise from the bar was muffled but occasional screams would echo across the street. You exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke through your mouth as the relaxing feel of nicotine coursed through your system. Smoking was your go-to activity whenever you feel extreme unexplained emotions, such as seeing John MacTavish after a long time.

"Tough crowd?" Your manager turned his head to you as you casually leaned on the cold metal railing.

"Not really. I just saw someone I least expected to see." You retorted, pressing your lips against the cigarette butt as you closed your eyes and inhaled the vice.

"Someone you hate?" He queried.

"Not necessarily. But at one point of my life, maybe... It's just... it's complicated." You complained, sighing at the thought of him once again. You mentally fought against yourself whether to reminisce or not, reminding yourself that the reason you went out here was to clear your head, not to fill it with memories of summer 4 years ago.

You fixed your posture and flicked off the cigarette butt to the ashtray. Your boss followed, escorting you back to the office.

"Thanks for the company. I needed it." You thanked him as you crossed the street. He hummed in acknowledgement as he opened the door for you. You couldn't help but scan the room quickly for a mohawk, but he wasn't around. Maybe he went to the bathroom, you thought to yourself as you get back to your station.

9:59 pm. Your eyes trailed to the huge digital clock by the door, rapidly moving across the crowd still no mohawk in sight. This actually made you sad, he wasn't the kind of guy who dissappoints, you always saw him as a man of his word. You did confirm that he already paid for his tab about an hour and a half ago, just after your short break.

Guess you're going home alone. So much for ' I'll be here till then' you mentally argued, frowning as you wiped off the last glass in the tray.

10:00 pm. You sighed and lazily grabbed your time card and let the huge metal clock record your departure. You felt your energy quickly deplete due to the dissappointment that is John MacTavish.

"See you on Monday!" you waved goodbye to your coworkers who seemed to notice your sudden loss of energy. You push the back door slowly and stepped outside. It was getting cold and you weren't prepared for it.

"Hey." A low scottish accent muttered just beside you, making you yelp in surprise.

"Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me!" you angrily punched his strong arm, hurting yourself in the process.

"I'm sorry." he spoke lazily, almost tired or drunk. You couldn't exactly tell, but it was far from his tone earlier.

"Pretty chilly, eh?" you asked him, imitating his accent. Something that you always considered a major turn on when it comes to him.

"A little bit. And your impression is way off, I don't say it like that." he retorted nonchalantly making you worry if something happened while he was waiting.

"You seem a little off, what's the problem?" you asked, playfully bumping him while you walked the empty streets on your way home.

"It's just... uh.. Nevermind." he trailed off, his secrecy was making you impatient and you stopped on your tracks. He continued walking, looking down at the ground until he noticed you're no longer beside him.

He turned back. "You forgot something?"

"I don't get you." you raised your voice. He slowly walked back to you until he's just inches away from your face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just asked..."

"Asked what? You told me you'd stay here till my shift is over and then you're gone like that?" you complained, the tone of your voice was demanding and you could see him flinch when words hurt.

"I didn't want to raise suspicion."

"Who would be suspicious of you?!"

"Shortly after you left, I took a smoke. But I didn't do it by the smoking area. I was way up here, enjoying the breeze." he said, turning to the smoking area which was very visible from up here. Was he sad because he saw you and your manager by the smoking area? What kind of eyes did he have? You didn't want to assume things so you started to supply him with questions to fill in the blanks.

"And? Was the area too sad for you to be all emo like that all of a sudden?" you complained, soing your best impression of an angry person, but you know deep inside that you couldn't get angry at this man.

"Yeah. You could say that." he chuckled. He couldn't even look at you anymore.

"Bullshit." you retorted. He slowly tilted his head and smiled as soon as your eyes met. The view was so gorgeous you almost felt like the world was in slow motion.

"You don't have to believe me if you want. Why are you walking with me home anyway. You could've said no. I bet he has some nice fancy car to drive you home." he blurted, fog started to huff out of his mouth as the snow started to fall from the sky.

"Where are you going with this, John?" you spat, letting the emotions get the best of you. If only he was clear enough then this wouldn't have happened.

"I saw the two of you smiling while talking, I thought to myself. Yeah, she's happy with that bloke huh, I wish I knew that before I invited her earlier." he breathed out. You almost felt guilty, but it wasn't your fault. He easily assumed things that weren't even true.

"What made you think we're together? Just because we're smoking together doesn't mean we're in a relationship. Is that what you thought?" you replied, fighting back helping him on his way to the truth.

He paused, it's as if his whole thought process was shattered when your words stung him.

"I got jealous. To be fair, I was gone for 4 years... I always thought you already found someone else within that time." he frowned. It was not usual of him to feel this vulnerable.

"Look-" you tried to explain but you suddenly felt his warm embrace wrapped around you.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. The same words he said before leaving 4 years ago. The same words that hurt you back then and the same words that's going to hurt you at this moment. He was the one that got away, he was the one whom you shared your most magical moments with, but not the one who's going to be there until the end. He'll have to leave anytime soon, as his job requires him to save the world. You told him he could settle for less risky world saving endeavors but he insisted that this was his purpose. And you were not willing to let him choose again.

"You know... you're not supposed to feel jealousy." you consoled, rubbing his well sculpted back.

"I know... I couldn't help it." he whispered.

"Let's get you home, John." you whisper to him as he pulls away from you, his face pouted like a baby whose candy got stolen.

"Why are you here anyway?" you added.

"I'm getting reassigned to a new task force. I figured I could say goodbye to someone I hold dear." he smirked, he felt normal, but then again you couldn't help but feel that this would be the last time you'll be seeing him. You we're thinking he won't be able to travel freely back here anymore or worse, he'll be the hero the world wanted him to be.

#earthisadonut asks for a fic #horRAYfic #no spoilers in the tags #but aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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wolfstar-supremacy-innit · 3 years

Text

"Tell who?"- Part 2

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 2 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Part 1 Part 3

Enjoy! :)

“Moony! Get up, mate!” Like it was that easy. He couldn’t even get himself to pry his eyes open. It was James that woke him. “Come on, mate. We gotta show up at breakfast, so nobody gets suspicious.” Remus groaned and turned onto his back. A dreadful headache split his forehead.

“Ugh, fuck me.”

“Not right now, Moony. We gotta dash.” He could practically feel James’ stupid grin.

“Fine, fine. I’m getting up.” He blinked his eyes open, pushing onto his elbows, then slowly sat up. The throb in his temples was menacing. He got up gingerly. No nausea. Good. Picking out clean clothes from his neatly organised wardrobe, he headed for the bathroom. “Pete and I should probably go as soon as possible. Will you be alright to bring him down to the Great Hall,” he heard James question as he shut the door.

The shower did wonders to Remus’ hangover. It diminished his headache and helped clear his vision. It also felt nice to be in clean clothes, even though it was devastating having to take Sirius’ shirt off. But letting himself feel his emotions was no more, so he pushed down that thought. Remus walked back into the dorm, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. Lifting his gaze, he noticed Sirius leaning against his bedpost with one ankle crossed over the other. His lips were pulled in a small smile. Their eyes connected.

“Tell who?”

Remus’ stare fell on the yellow paper in Sirius’ hand and the realisation hit him momentarily. His heart dropped all the way to the floor. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no... His mouth was utterly dry. Fear and panic washed over him like a thousand giant ocean waves coming down at once. ‘I wanna tell him I love him,’ he had written. Holy fucking fuck, he thought, Sirius knows I like a boy. There was a deafening, high pitched ringing in his ears.

“M-my dad... I never tell him that.” He was grasping at straws.

“Remus, come on,” Sirius huffed out a short laugh as he pushed himself off the board. He was shooting Remus this terribly meaningful look, and Remus begged the ground to crack open and claim him.

“I...“ Then before much further thinking, Remus turned on his heel and darted out the room and down the stairs as Sirius called out his name.

Fucked. He was so fucked. Idiot. Imbecile. How could he have written that and then just left it lying around?! Idiot. He smacked his forehead as he rounded a corner, then scuttled down the hallway. He was headed for his favourite hiding spot- a cosy alcove in the wall behind a tapestry on the fourth floor. Settling on the stone ground, Remus went through his breathing exercises. It wasn’t the first time he’d had an anxiety attack, except it was usually something associated with his lycanthropy. Shit, thank Merlin I didn’t write his name. He exhaled a shaky breath. It could have been worse, at least. He’s never drinking again, he concluded. Well, Sirius knew Remus liked boys. A boy. That was that. He rested his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a while, just breathing.

“Moony,” a voice called behind the tapestry. It was Sirius. Remus’ heart rate spiked again. “Stop freaking out, mate.”

“I can’t,” Remus replied.

“Can I come in?”

“Okay.”

Sirius pulled back the tapestry and gracefully climbed inside. He was clutching the map. He sat opposite Remus and drew his knees to his chest so they could both fit in the alcove. Remus was looking at the ground.

“Here, I brought you a sandwich. You skipped breakfast. Can’t imagine it helped your hangover.”

Remus took it without looking up. “Thanks.”

After a moment, Sirius started: “This is because it’s a him, right?”

“Well...” Remus cleared his throat. It’s also kinda because it’s you. “Yeah.”

“And what? You think I wouldn’t be okay with that?” Silence. “I don’t care about stuff like that, you idiot.” Sirius’ voice was incredibly soft and comforting. Remus finally looked at him. He shook his head and buried his face in his knees.

“Christ. Of course you don’t. It’s just... It’s a big deal for me. Nobody knows.”

“That’s alright, Moony, I get it. It’s all good with me." He paused. "So, are you... if you don’t mind me asking...” Remus drew his head back up. Sirius was asking if he was gay.

“I have no idea what I am, honestly. This has never happened before. Then again, it hasn’t happened with a girl, either.”

“Well, that’s fine. You have your whole life to figure it out.” Sirius flashed him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.” Remus’ lips curved as well.

After a few beats of silence, Sirius continued: “Moony in love... Blimey, this bloke must be something else, eh?” Yup.

“Well, I don’t know about love... I was pretty pissed last night when I wrote that.”

Sirius chuckled, throwing his head back. “Right. So... Does he fancy you back, d’you reckon?”

Remus couldn’t suppress the panicked short laugh that escaped his mouth. “No.” Sirius liking him back? What a joke.

“Well, how do you know? He doesn’t even know you fancy him, it seems.”

“Nope, and I hope it stays that way until the end of time.”

“Merlin, who is this lad anyway?”

“I’m not telling you!” Remus’ cheeks were flaming. There wasn’t a force in the world that could have made him look Sirius in the eye. This was a little too close for comfort.

“Hah, fine. One step at a time.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Their ankles were touching. Remus pushed down his feelings of affection with all the mental strength he could gather.

“Um, could you not tell Wormtail and Prongs, please? I’m just not ready for people to know.”

“Of course, mate. You know you can talk to me about it, though?” His expression was soft and understanding.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Brilliant. Okay then.” Sirius pushed himself up and dusted off his trousers. “Should we get out of here? This is definitely a secret snogging spot.” He offered a hand to Remus and pulled him to stand as well.

“Please don’t taint the aura of my favourite hideout, Padfoot.”

This is why Remus liked Sirius so much. Of course, he was strikingly good-looking and cool as hell, but Remus liked his personality more. Sirius was a troublemaker and joked around with everyone, but when it came to moments like this, he was an incredible and supportive friend. Never short on advice (even if it was questionable a lot of the time). He never hesitated to go above and beyond for the people he loved. These were also the reasons why Remus reckoned he’d had a crush on his best friend for much longer than 4 months. Sirius’ looks just made it crystal clear, but Remus had been falling for him for years. Maybe love wasn’t such a strong word after all...

On the way back to their dormitory, Sirius asked: “Is it that Ravenclaw guy you study with at the library? What’s his face? Oliver?”

An obvious choice, but wrong. “Shut up,” Remus said, looking straight ahead, but the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Okay.” Sirius put his hands up, smiling. “Not Oliver, then.”

Sirius kept prodding him like that every once in a while for the following two weeks. Sometimes he would point at a random bloke in the hall and ask if that was Remus’ mystery crush. It made Remus laugh. Generally, it didn’t bother him at all and even became rather amusing. It grew into a sort of an inside joke between them.

They were sitting side by side at dinner one evening after all the students had returned from the holidays. Sirius was in his curious, mischievous mood.

“Oh! The- the muggle kid we hung out with last Christmas? When we were at James’,” he tried.

“Hah, no,” Remus answered, “I saw him like twice.” Sirius huffed.

“Is it somebody from home, then? Somebody I don’t know?”

Remus could’ve lied. He could’ve lied so easily. Still, he decided against it, given how dreadful he was at keeping life-changing secrets. He shook his head, looking at his plate. Sirius leaned so close to him, their shoulders touched. He all but started bouncing in his seat.

“So it is someone from Hogwarts!” Remus didn’t bring himself to answer. Instead, he shoved a particularly packed fork into his mouth. They were silent for a few moments, then: “Is it Snivellus?”

“Yuck, Sirius!” Remus shoved his shoulder as they both laughed.

“So, why don’t you just tell this bloke of yours, then?”

“Ha. Because he’s straight.”

“Oh, bummer. Sorry, Moony.”

Remus wanted to bang his head on the table. If only Sirius knew he was apologising for himself being straight. “It is how it is.”

Back in their dorm, a parcel was sitting on Sirius’ bed. “Padfoot, something arrived for you earlier. I paid the owl,” James explained.

“Oh, yes! They arrived! Cheers, mate.” Sirius leapt onto his bed and started tearing the paper. “What is it,” James asked, leaning closer to Sirius’ bed and peering at the package. Remus and Peter were doing the same. “My rings,” he exclaimed, sliding a silver loop onto his finger. He placed one on his ring finger, one on his thumb and two on his index finger, then stretched out his arm to examine his hand. They were all different shapes.

“Wicked,” James blurted out.

“Yeah, wicked,” Peter repeated. Remus could just sit and gawk like his mouth was sewn shut. What the fuck, Remus thought. He’s trying to kill me. It was hot. It was hot. Like his hands could get any sexier.

“Don’t worry, Moony, it’s not real silver,” Sirius said with the biggest grin on his face. Remus could just nod, swallowing thickly. Yeah, that was a good excuse for why he was baffled.

Sirius wore his rings everywhere. To class, to every meal, sneaking around the castle at night to arrange their next prank. And Remus loved it. After the initial bewilderment subsided, he adored looking at them. However, it didn’t help reduce his massive fucking crush on Sirius. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. Girls would come up to Sirius at lunch to tell him ‘his rings look amazing’, and Remus would almost start growling. It was a bit of a problem. He needed to repeatedly tell his brain to shut up in these moments.

***

Sirius was running out of ideas for who Remus' infamous crush could be. Remus was a bit concerned he would actually figure it out. However, Sirius just started bringing it up less and less. It seemed like the entire thing was blowing over and Remus was getting away with it.

They were sitting on James’ bed, leaned over the map. There was nobody else in the dorm. Their bodies were close together, Remus’ right shoulder behind Sirius’ left.

“Good old Prongsy,” Sirius said. James’ dot on the map was in the hallway outside the Great Hall. Lilly’s dot was right next to it. “He’s probably making an idiot of himself again. Poor lad’s gonna get himself hexed.” Remus laughed.

“I admire him,” Remus said, “I would have died from embarrassment by now.”

“Oh, have you seen it?!” Sirius suddenly turned to look at him, their noses almost brushed. Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Seen what?”

“The abomination James made for Evans for Valentine’s day!”

“For Valentine’s? But it’s January,” Remus said as Sirius opened the drawer of James’ bedside table and reached inside. He pulled out a wooden cube that fit in the palm of his hand.

“It opens on my voice for now. Later he’ll change it to activate when Evans says ‘James’.” In that moment the top of the box popped open and the sides fell to reveal a petit yellow bird figurine. Just as Remus thought: Oh, this is cute, a blearing sound spread through the room. “Evans,” the bird boomed in James’ voice, “go on a date with me this Hogsmeade weekend!” Remus grimaced at the volume of the noise.

“My idea to make it loud,” Sirius said with a proud grin.

“Oh, why did you help him with it?!” Remus started laughing.

“He’s gonna transfigure it into a real bird and make it sit oh her shoulder giving her compliments the whole day. I haven’t decided whether I’m gonna let him go through with it. Reckon it might be worth it to see the look on Evans’ face.”

“This is bad.” Remus couldn’t stop sniggering. “This is so bad.”

“The lad has no shame. Maybe you could make one for your mystery man. I bet it would change his views,” Sirius joked. He was being incredibly charming. Remus couldn’t help it. When you’re not supposed to look at something, it’s all your eyes want to do. He dropped his gaze to Sirius’ flawless lips. It wasn’t discreet at all. Remus realised he was leaning towards him, smiling stupidly. Sirius’ eyes flickered between Remus’ as realisation flashed across his expression. He drew back a little. “Oh,” was all he said. Remus’ smile dropped suddenly as he pulled back as well.

“Me?”

Remus’ heart was thumping in his ears. It kind of felt like his soul was leaving his body. No, actually, he was sure his soul was leaving his body. Suddenly, he scrambled off the bed frantically, saying: “Fuck, sorry,” then crossed the room in three large, quick steps and bolted out the door. “Moony,” he heard the dim and distant shout. Deja vu. Only this time he’d had enough sense to grab the map.

Part 1 Part 3

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Set me Free

Summary: Part Two to Let Me In - After a night of being an asshole, getting drunk and then falling asleep when you were just finally getting into the mood. The Captain wakes up finding himself in somewhat of a pickle.

Read Part One

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader (You)

Word count: 4.1K

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Male Sub / FemDom, bondage, sex toys (woman playing with a vibrator), oral preformed on a male and a female (face-sitting), power play, teasing, unprotected sex, bodily fluids. All the good stuff.

A/N: SmuttyWeekend Commences! Guys this is my first MaleSub and I was struggling with it being a FemSub. So please gimmie feedback. 😥😥😥😥 Many thanks to @agniavateira who edits my work.

Title: Set me Free

The big military grunt is lying in the middle of an ocean of navy blue sheets, utterly nude as the sunlight beams through the window and kisses his rigid abs with a warm, golden haze. From all the men who ever fell unconscious in your bed, Syverson has to be the most delicious treat of them all.

Taut muscles stretch across an incredibly large, triangle-shaped upper body and thick, solid thighs. His glowing skin is covered by a dusting of black hairs which flow from his wide chest to his torso, leading to his delightfully enormous cock that nestles between a bundle of dark curls.

He is the epitome of masculinity, especially with that thick beard which he refuses to shave.

You sit on your small IKEA chair, lounging lazily with your ankles crossed together while sipping your latte macchiato and enjoying your new morning view.

The big man usually sleeps around 3 to 4 “generous” hours if he’s lucky to get any proper sleep at all, and not be consumed by night terrors. It’s something you’ve learnt to deal with, at least sort of. But with the amount of alcohol he consumed, he’s been out of it even after you woke up.

You indulge yourself looking at his sleeping form. Watching as his chest gently rises and falls and his cock semi-hardens from the stream of blood that gravitates to his loins.

If only you could wake up to this impressionistic vision of beauty every day for the rest of your life. But no, you had to go and get yourself involved with a military bloke, a captain, nonetheless.

Finally, he begins shifting on the mattress, the muscles of his chest flex inward and his stomach sucks in, followed by a low roar emitted from his defined lips.

There is much of the beast in him, sometimes even more than the man.

You capture your lower lip beneath your teeth, waiting with mirth and anticipation for him to open his beautiful blue eyes.

His face curls with what you assume to be a mild sensation of pain. The strong scent of whiskey wafts from his body as if he bathed in a brewery. You wouldn’t be surprised if the captain is nursing a minor hangover, which you have the perfect cure for.

The metal bars shake and then thud against the wall as he foolishly attempts to move his arms. Sharp, ringing sounds thunder in your ears as the small chain of his cuffs grind against the peg. You smile, placing your empty cup on the study, watching your man as he wakes from his deep slumber to find himself in captivity.

“What in the n…”

His eyes blink open. He observes the leather cuffs around his wrists and begins moving around wildly, attempting to free himself by shaking his hands back and forth with force. The bed creaks and shifts beneath his weight. A slight tension rises in your chest; a man as strong as Syverson might actually break the bars and the bed too, possibly.

You clear your throat to redirect his attention, only to be greeted by a furious glare.

“Morning, Captain.” you hail, your voice smooth and relaxed, contradicting Syverson’s blazing temper. A mixture of daze and anger drapes his face as he focuses on your sight.

You wonder, does he even remember the little performance from last night? Because you sure as hell are going to remember that for the rest of your life.

He angrily narrows his blue eyes, giving you a menacing look. His jaw clenches hard beneath the rough thicket of his beard.

Syverson is a force to be reckoned with; he is not a man who enjoys these types of silly games. Everything about him is hard, down to business, and with him saying the final word in the conversation.

Too bad that right now he is no longer in a position of power.

“What the hell is this?”

His eyes take you in, gliding down the sheer black night robe you’re wearing, intentionally left untied. A hint of the roundness of your breasts winks at him through the open slit and the very outlines of your nipples tease through the translucent fabric. There is a flinch in his cock as more blood stirs down to fill his organ at the sight of your divine body.

You decide to step up your game, placing your legs on the floor and spreading them to allow a glimpse of your ripe little peach. Syverson attempts to lift his head and get a better look while your giggles fill the room.

“This, my darling, is your punishment for one, being a complete asshole and embarrassing me in front of your friends-”

Syverson gives you a slow eye-roll and attempts to fight the cuffs again to no avail. “Je-sus, woman! You’re still at this? Fine. Remove these cuffs and I’ll give you my very ardent apology.”

You chuckle and shake your head, rising from your chair and moving toward the bed. The pink silicone toy Syverson bought for you hangs from between your manicured fingernails as you wave it around casually. Sy follows your movements with the diligence of a trained special forces soldier, learning every possible detail as if you’re the enemy right now.

Might as well be.

“What are you doing, woman?” he speaks slowly, his voice holding a tad of a warning as you climb onto the bed and settle yourself between his feet. You sit straddled, ankles folded beneath your behind, letting your juicy cunt to be openly presented to the helpless man.

You can hear the low pitched growl rumbling in his chest, like an approaching storm. It makes your skin prickle and your lungs squeeze inside your ribs. Even bound to your bed, he effortlessly holds a brooding presence. A huge Texas bear, all muscles and dripping of control. Every time you sleep together, he pins you down and charges your body as if you’re some target that needed conquering.

He never leaves you a fighting chance. Not up til now.

“Two,” you emphasize the word, lazily trailing the tip of the toy against your inner thigh. His eyes follow every movement, his jaw locked tightly. “- you left me wet and waiting last night, after giving me a very nice singing performance.”

The big man scowls as the vague memory of banging at your door starts sinking in. By the look on his face, he hates every single moment of it ever happening.

Probably prefers blaming you rather than taking responsibility.

“Don’t be like that, Texas.” you lick your lips, offering him a cheerful smile. “You have a gorgeous singing voice.”

“Final warnin’, kitten.”

You click your tongue and smile mischievously. Discarding the toy at his foot, you move on your knees, giving him a vixen grin before beginning to crawl forward. The delicate material of your gown caresses his naked skin as you snake your way between his open legs until you are at his pelvis, facing his very solid cock.

Your nimble fingers reach to grasp him, barely managing to circle his generous width. A low groan forms in his throat as you squeeze him roughly and run your hand up and down.

Syverson looks mesmerizing, the temptation to take a polaroid photo and have this moment forever imprinted in chemicals and light tickles your brain. More than anything, you ponder at the war that wages in his mind:the conflict between wanting back his control and enjoying the way your hand kneads him.

“This is an ego thing, isn’t it?” you ask him while licking your lips, inching your head closer and closer to the swollen head.

His chest rises and sinks urgently as his breath becomes heavier. Involuntarily, he bounces his groin, his body begging for your mouth.

You allow the tip to graze you, collecting a few drops of pre-cum on the plush of your lips, letting it spread on the velvet flesh. “I bet they teach you how to withstand torture and questioning in case you’ll fall captive.”

“Not that type of torture,” he replies and then gasps as your tongue dips at the small hole in his cock. You push against it, tasting the salty drops before circling your tongue around the head. His teetering gasps and the way his biceps swell larger when he moves in his cuffs are enough to make you throb with arousal.

No wonder Syverson likes to be the one in control; seeing someone so helpless and bound at your mercy is quite the aphrodisiac. This is especially true when it’s a man like Syverson, a brooding hulk who weighs more than twice your size.

Ironically, Sy doesn’t even need to yell or use his fists to be intimidating. He can talk anyone into submission with his voice. He has this energy about him, a confidence that makes men, even who are just as big, to cower with fear.

Even now, as he lies in captivity, his eyes are shooting daggers at you, sending you a clear message: “You’re goin’ to regret this, darlin’.”The punishment is probably going to involve you being unable to walk for a week, but you’re certain that it’s worth every second of him being subdued to your bed.

Ever so slowly, your tongue glides down his length, tracing the ridges and the thick tendons that throb against your tongue. Motion-synced with the captain’s forced moans, you roll your tongue and slide it all the way back up.

You pause, staring at him as he pants, eyes hazy with lust, his abs sucked in. There’s a strained anticipation on his face, begging for the wet cavern of your mouth, but he never utters a word, only sucking in his lower lip with desperation. Your big army gruff doesn’t beg.

He“ain’t no pooch like them city boys.”

Pumping his cock with one hand, you give him a mischievous grin while pressing your cheek against the muscle of his thigh, feeling it flex beneath your touch. Every sinew of his body is straining, anxious for pleasure and release.

“You want to fuck my mouth, baby?” he releases a low growl, his eyes narrowing at you, his teeth grinding together. “You know I do, so put that damn mouth of yours to good use.”

Your nails trail around his thigh, tickling him feverishly. You watch how he jolts against your touch while one hand still squeezes his cock, making torturous pumps that are too slow and moderated to bring him closer to what he needs.

“Yeah, you want your big fat cock inside my mouth?” you raise your face to his towering erection, your lips part open slowly. You leaned down to lick him up and down before biting onto him, only to watch how he spasms with ache.

“You know I do, kitten.”

To your disappointment, he still remains composed, despite the anger and arousal that spikes his blood. It infuriates you; you want him to beg, to say he is sorry for being such an idiot and for ruining your first night together ever since he returned.

You squeeze him hard enough to make him grunt and descend to devour his cock again. Your lips wrap around him, tasting the bitter salt on the lush of your tongue before sucking him hard, just the way he likes it. Your throat relaxes to take him deeper, deep enough to hear those mellow groans and watch as he throws his head back, blissful at the way your warmth surrounds him.

You suck harder, working up and down his shaft, humming with him inside your mouth while your hand twirls and tugs at the base of his cock. The vibration of your hums makes him grunt, and those grunts and moans are the sweetest melodies to your ears.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the sensation, in these sounds and the way he fills your mouth. You’re in love with him, your heart flutters in the thought of making him feel good, especially since you’re forced to spend so much time apart. It wrecks your heart every time, yet the thought of not having the captain in your life at all is unacceptable.

He longed for you too, you are certain of it. And not just for your mouth and the way his cock reaches the edge of your throat while you pump in and out. He has a shit way of showing that, being such a hardass and saying “I don’t do romance, darlin’” while slapping your ass as if you were some broodmare.

But the raging ocean in his eyes is enough to say all those words he could never utter.

You hear his low voice cracking and sense the swelling of his cock against your tongue. Quickly, you withdraw with a loud wet pop as his cock exits your mouth.

“Fuck!” you hear him utter, the cuffs dangling against the bar while he frowns at you. “Why did ya stop, kitten?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you lift your head, allowing a sneer to linger on your lips like something out of a horror film. You arch your back and crawl on top of his body, your knees bracing themselves at each side of his wide frame, and your nails scratching the slight fur of his skin.

“You’re not coming in my mouth, dear.”

You climb onto the big bear until finally, you are sitting on his chest. You slightly moan at the softness of his hairy chest that tickles the drenched spot between your thighs. Syverson grits his teeth, his jaw pushed forward, eyes red with rage altering between your naked breasts and your dominating glare. The soothing palm you press against his coarse cheek does nothing but humiliate him, which of course, makes you press your lips and coo at him tauntingly.

“Still not going to apologize?”

“Untie me first and I’ll give you the apology you deserve,” he demands, still struggling to remain in control but you can see the fuzzy haze of arousal in his eyes, the way his lips part and his breath becomes rigid. He can smell you, he senses the wetness of your mound as you sit on his chest. It makes the animal in its cage become enraged.

You shake your head, sighing with false disappointment and lift yourself to your knees, carefully targeting yourself above his face with preparation.

“I consider this a prize, Sy,” you murmur, looking down onto the slightly scarred face of your soldier who now returns a fascinated gaze to you. “I know how much you love to eat my pussy.”

He scoffs at you yet still licks his lips with anticipation as you lower yourself onto his inviting mouth. This was always his thing. There was no doubt that Syverson mastered the art of oral sex as another form of domination. Yes, he was an attentive lover. Making his lady squirm with ecstasy brought him joy, yet it was also another way he controlled you.

This is going to be tricky, yet you’re devoted to turning his little game around.

“You better make me come, Sy,” you warn, landing your pelvis onto his lips and releasing a deep moan as you feel the warmth of the captain’s skilful mouth around your mound.

“F-u-c-k!” you utter loudly, placing your hands above the bars for leverage. His velvet tongue meets your cunt, drawing wet circles around the seam and collecting your juices before plunging into you with earnest devotion. You gasp and throw your head back, clenching yourself around him and riding his bearded jaw.

“Like it when I fuck your mouth, Captain?” you call out breathless, trying to mimic the way he speaks to you when he shoves his cock down your throat on the occasion and fucks your mouth.

“Yes, like that, thrust your tongue inside me.”

You gasp the command at him, moving harder, your clit brushing against the moustache of his beard, eliciting a tickling sensation that stimulates you to the point of losing the ability to speak coherent words. Yet, you claw your talons onto control, your knuckles turning white around the edge of the headboard as you fist it in your sweaty palms and buck your hips and ride his face.

“Yes!!! Fuck! Like this! Suck it, harder!”

Even in his subdued position, Sy sustains every inch of mastery, eating you out as if you tasted of heaven. His tongue glides between your slit and your clit, rolling across your delicate nub. The sobs you make only urge him to increase the pressure around your clit and thrust his tongue harder. And just when you think you are close enough, the bastard mumbles something against your lips and the vibration of his bass throws you across the edge.

You come violently, slamming the headboard against the wall and pushing yourself hard onto his face. You can feel yourself soaking his beard yet he continues to lick you dry, sending slight aftershocks through your body.

Breathing heavily, you slowly climb off his face, looking at him as he glares at you darkly. You can see the little cracks appearing behind his eyes, his dominative nature stretching to the point of pain. He wasn’t amused to begin with but now he is close to being berserk.

Still sitting on his chest, you turn your sweaty chin across your shoulder to glimpse at his tortured cock which now looks painfully red and desperate for some attention.

“Are you done playing games?”

There it is, the thing you’ve yearned for. Despair, helplessness. His brow is covered with sweat and his feet kick at the mattress. Oddly enough, you hardly care anymore if he apologizes or not. You know he won’t, it’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s because it’s all part of the battle.

And if anything, Syverson hates losing.

“Not even close,” you answer while you crawl backwards, maintaining fierce eye contact with your enemy. Your glare returns the fight which is now escalated to a whole new level. Like a cougar ready for assault, you snake yourself to the starting point. Your hand meets with the pink toy, which is laid just where you left it.

His eyebrow crooks up, looking at you suspiciously and somewhat concerned. “What are you doing?”

You hold the toy firmly in your hand while spreading your legs across each of his. Your index finger smoothes over the length of the silicone toy, flirting with the on and off button against your tip.

“Remember how you told everyone at the bar that I fuck myself while you watch on Skype?”

“Stop it,” he shoots a warning glare, his neck stretching up with frustration. You tilt your head, puckering your lips sweetly into a pout before flicking the toy on, letting it vibrate in your grasp.

“For fuck’s sake, woman!” he growls and his eyes widen as you position the toy against your clit and instantly begin gasping as it brings you to incredible pleasure in less than a second.

“Oh god, baby!!!!” you gasp, closing your eyes and curling your toes. You massage your clit slowly, letting the vibration coax you just enough before the sensation turns painful. You slip the entire length of the toy inside you while screaming loud enough for your neighbours to hear.

“Sy!!!!” his name is on your lips while you drive the vibrator in and out, angling it at the right spots that make you mewl like a whore. Your eyes flick open to glimpse at the man who stares at you, eyes drenched with hopeless desire, mouth gaping open as his cock flinches with pain and need. The fact that he cannot have you right now is throwing the animal in him to a new length of frustration he never knew before. He squirms on the bed, throwing his head back and then shaking it at you, his lips pressed to a thin line beneath his messy beard.

“Fuck this, I am sorry! Okay?!”

You pump the toy in and out and yip while your finger ticks the button for a higher speed. “Not… good… enough!” you cry out, feeling your walls shuddering. You look at Syverson’s cock, imagining it inside you instead, his wider girth, the warmth of his body.

You need him, not a toy to replace him and still, you come, your body clenching around the soft silicone.

“Will you stop with the games already!? I said I was sorry!” he shouts at you with his face on the verge of panic. His eyes were glossy with anxiety and misery. If you weren’t as desperate to make love to him, if only you didn’t miss to feel him, sunken at your depth, you would have been able to go for hours.

You chuckle viciously, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your forehead while finally shifting yourself to straddle his hips. His chest heaves with eagerness, his breath loud and urgent as your fingers seizes his cock one more time and you lift your hips. He growls once you lubricate his erection against your slit before taking him into your core.

Ever so slowly you let yourself fall on his shaft, taking him inch by inch, enjoying the pure harmony that releases from both of your throats.

“Fuck!!!!” Sy shouts, his frustration finally being answered by the slippery heat of your taut canal. Not stopping, you sink down until the soft edge of your ass rests neatly on his tight balls. Until he is bottomed out inside you, pushed against the rim of your womb.

Painfully engorged your organs throb against one another, blood pumping fast with fury, yet you remain still. You give Syverson one last cruel smirk of triumph.

“Oh come on, woman!!!!” he grunts and bucks his hips, making you rise with him as he lifts you from the bed with ease. “I’m sorry, okay? I love you, I didn’t mean to say that stupid thing. I am just a jarhead, I don’t know how to be different.”

The evil grin quickly fades from your face. For a second, your heart beats abnormally fast while your eyes feel moist. A joyous spasm runs through the knot in your stomach.

“You love me?”

Sy looks at you with a deep frown, the usual fierceness his eyes hold is now replaced by something as fragile as a butterfly wing. You know better than to touch it.

He never said it before, not to you, not to any other woman.

You are flooded by a whirlpool of emotions, hitting you all at once, assaulting your heart and your loins. Your senses are at a complete loss, forgetting all about the stupid battle for control. You want nothing but to have him, to fuck him until you cry out of love. Lifting yourself up, you begin to ride him with incredible force. Hips rising up and down on his girth, nails digging into his torso and sliding up his chest.

“Sy!” You cry out his name, feeling full of him. He groans with amazement, finally praised by the sweetness of your body which he achingly longed for in months.

“Yes, baby,” he calls for you, jerking his hips to meet you as you sink down and throw your head back. “Ride me, fuck me, darlin’.”

You roll your hips and dance on his cock vigorously, your back arching while you sing with ecstasy. His cock is swelling inside you, locked between your closing walls as they attempt to drain him of everything he has. You know it won’t last long yet right now you don’t care, you don’t care if he comes without you.

Because he loves you, the warmth that spreads from your heart onward is just as good.

Yet still, you come, grinding your clit against his pubic bone while tears spring down your cheeks. You hear his voice calling your name in a blur, throwing an onslaught of praises before he lifts you up with his body.

All spent, you collapse flat onto his body, humming to yourself as the hot sprout of his semen fills your womb. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the beating drum within while your fingers draw circles onto his skin.

“I love you,” you say it back, slightly tilting your head to meet his eyes. He smiles at you relaxed, finally released, his breath is still irregular, small gasps of air break between his lips.

“Now uncuff me, kitten, let’s get some breakfast.”

You lift your head and slide further up so your face is levelled with his, your fingers play with his beard while you observe him.

“I am not sure I am done switching just yet.”

_____________________________________________________

disclaimer: I don’t own Sand Castle or Captain Syverson

#Smut: Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson #Henry Cavill #Captain Syverson Fanfiction #Sand Castle #Netflix Sand Castle #Captain Syverson x Reader #Henry Cavill x Reader

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in-slytherin-we-trust · 4 years

Text

Another Time, Another Life (Draco Malfoy x Reader) Part 4/4

-> The chapter finale..... will love conquer or fall?

*Y/N/N : Your nickname

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

———————————————————————

4 months later.......

“1 strawberry and peanut butter and 1 rum raisin please, both in cone.” Harry said to the young man who’s in charge of the ice cream stand.

“That’ll be 13 sickles, sir.” He replied as he flicked his wand and Harry’s order is prepared by invisible hands.

“Here you go, keep the change as a tip.” Harry handed him one galleon instead.

The young man beamed at him, “Thank you so much, Mr. Potter! Have a good day.”

Harry smiled and tipped his head before he turned around and make his way to the front area. Now with ice cream cones in both hands.

Y/N spotted him from her seat in one of the white round tables and he raised his hands higher as if to signal that he got both of their orders.

“Thanks, Harry.” Y/N shot him a grateful smile as she carefully took her rum raisin ice cream from his grasp.

“Sure thing, *Y/N/N.” He replied as he took a seat in front of her. Slumping on it as he stretched his aching body from a hard morning full of cases.

Y/N took notice of the way his body let out a few painful cracking sounds, “Renshaw’s giving you a hard time again?”

Harry closed his eyes, massaging his temples with his fingers, “Yeah.. He gave me 10 new cases just for this morning only. I’m convinced that the bloke is mad.”

Y/N snorted, “Unbelieveable, I’m pretty sure he is mad. It’s like he’s out for your blood or something.”

“Thank Godric for lunch break, or else I might’ve explode in my cubicle. You ought to come over to my floor and see the stacks of paperwork nowadays, Y/N/N. It’s mountainous! I really want to be in the field and go on missions but Renshaw still thinks that I’m not quite ready yet.” Harry replied exasperatedly.

“Well at least we got our ice creams, consider this as a consolation prize.” Y/N said as she lick some drops of it that has melted.

Harry smirked and raised one of his eyebrows, “A consolation for you or for me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Whatever you have in mind, out with it, Lightning Boy.”

“How’s the thing with Malfoy going?”

“And what is this thing exactly that I have with him?”

She watched her friend rests both elbows on the table, leaning towards her, “The Ministry is full of gossipmongers, by now even every single person on my floor know that you’ve been getting daily deliveries of fancy flower bouquets among other things.” He wiggled both eyebrows her way, smiling conspiratorially.

“Since when do you thirst for gossips, Harry James Potter? I thought you of all people have better things to concern yourself with.” She rolled her eyes at him but still can’t help the chuckle that escaped her mouth.

“Since said subject of the gossips is none other than my bestfriend who has turned into a mute about said matters.” He shot back, a smug look still plastered on his face.

“Alright, alright fine..” Y/N said, “Stop sassing me.”

“Well you asked for it, you’re lucky I took no offense in you leaving me in the dark about what has happened so far.”

Y/N leaned as far back as she could in her seat, retreating into the comfort zone.

“The thing is.... I’m not sure the flowers are from him.” She sighed, looking anywhere but towards Harry.

Harry gave her a face, “How so? Do you have any other admirers that I don’t know of?”

“I think Narcissa is the one who sent the flowers on his behalf because all of them were roses, Draco knows that I hate roses. He used to sent me peonies or calla lillies because those are my favorite.”

“Well that is unexpected...” Harry muttered, “Does he really wants to win you back or does he not? That git is insufferable.”

“I mean technically he never said it outloud that he wants me back apart from the letter that he wrote... that night at the Malfoy Manor, he just said that he was sorry and that was it.”

Harry slowly reached out for her hands and holds it in his, “If it helps just forget about his sorry ass, Y/N/N. You deserve a better man and not this child who hides behind others and let them do his bidding.”

Y/N let out another sigh, but then a familiar voice made her froze on spot.

Harry seemed to take notice too and his eyes went as wide as saucers, but then she noticed it, a glimpse of pity in his eyes though he tried to hide it but to her, Harry is an open book.

“Don’t look...” He said to her under his breath as he too diverted his attention from the offender.

“Harry Potter and (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! fancy meeting you here.” A woman’s voice chimed in.

Now don’t get me wrong, her voice is the kind of voice that you would love to listen to for hours on end because of its soft and lullaby-like quality but currently Y/N would like nothing more than to make a dash for it.

Because now Astoria Greengrass stood in front of their table with her arms wrapped tightly around none other than the source of Y/N’s misery, Draco Malfoy.

It took everything in her not too let the hurt and confusion shows, under the table her hands unconsciously clenched into a fist, the tip of her nails digging into her palm, possibly hard enough to bruise.

Y/N gave her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Frankly we’re as surprised as you are, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour is the last place on earth that I would expect to bump into you in.”

“Yeah no offense, Astoria, but you hardly seemed the type to enjoy any kinds of outing to Diagon Alley. Bond Street or St. James’s perhaps, but definitely not anywhere near here.” Harry said.

Astoria let out a melodious laugh, “I had to make a quick visit to Twilfitt and Tatting’s for some fitting then be on our way, but when we passed by and saw the two of you here of course we need to say hello.”

“How...” Y/N stop for a bit to find the most proper word, “—considerate of you.” She finished with a sickening sugary smile which she hoped pass as genuine.

“Are the two of you on a date?” Astoria suddenly asked, interest flaring behind her round brown orbs.

Y/N caught Draco’s frown from her peripheral vision, but it only lasted seconds before he schooled his face into the nonchalant mask that he soo often wears.

“Unfortunately no, nothing that interesting. We’re just on our lunch break.” Y/N answered plainly.

Draco’s eyebrows scrunched together, creating a deep crease on his forehead, “You spend your lunch break eating ice creams?” He spoke all of a sudden.

Y/N raised one eyebrow, “So what if I do, Draco?”

Harry seems to find the exchange between the former lovers hilarious and currently trying hard to conceal his growing smile behind both hands.

“It just doesn’t seem very satiating compared to a proper meal.” Draco replied in defeat.

Feeling bold, Y/N decided to push things a bit further. Perhaps it’s the bubbling anger that fuels her.

“Now, now Draco dearest. Careful or people might think that you’re concerned of my wellbeing.” She bites back.

Before it could escalate any further, Harry abruptly stood, even bumping his knees on the process of standing up.

“WELL WON’T YOU LOOK AT THE TIME?!” He declared out loud with a grin that is far too cheerful. “We really ought to get back to the Ministry before we’re late, Y/N/N.”

Y/N followed his lead, “Oh my you’re right, how time flew when you’re having fun. We are truly sorry to cut this short but our bosses will have our asses if we slack.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to hold you up from your work. I hope to see you on another occasion, yes?” Astoria said.

“Likewise, Astoria.” Y/N replied curtly. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Y/N spared a glance towards Draco, “I’ll see you around, Draco.”

Draco Malfoy had the decency to look somewhat guilty and embarrassed before Harry and Y/N apparated away.

———————————————————————

True to Potter’s assessment earlier, Draco found himself getting dragged to Bond Street by Astoria Greengrass.

Why? You might ask. Isn’t this street in Muggle London? Well if you know where to look then you’d find that some hidden parts of it are home to luxury shopping for upper class Wizards and Witches.

Astoria made a beeline for a ceramics studio, the woman do love collecting unique hand-painted plates and tea sets.

“Come now, Draco. I heard they just got a new collection, shipped all the way from Greece! As you might imagine it’s mythology themed, exciting isn’t it?” She chirped, eyes darting from one display to another.

Draco sigh to himself, shopping for ceramics is certainly not on his list of things to do for fun, but he couldn’t bear to burst her bubble. Astoria is a nice person and he already did her so wrong by pursuing this relationship in the first place, not that she’s aware of it.

“Oh look! I think that one depicted the legend of Hades and Persephone, such nice colorings.” She murmured, carefully holding up a black plate with swirling figures painted in crimson and gold. “Do you know how the tale goes?” She suddenly asked him.

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in Greek mythology, darling.” He answered sheepishly.

“Pity... it kind of reminds me of you actually.” Astoria said as her eyes found his, the intensity of the look actually unnerved him to the core.

“Oh? Want to enlighten me on why?” He asked curiously.

“Hades wanted something that is beyond his reach even with his position as the King of the Underworld. He fell in love with the beautiful Persephone, daughter of Demeter. She was everything that he was not. She embodied light, pureness, goodness, and happiness basically everything that is on the opposite end of his spectrum.”

“So it’s a story of a forbidden love, then?” Draco inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Forbidden love, star-crossed lovers, whatever you might want to call it. Although the actual tale is more twisted because he kidnapped her to his realm.” Astoria continued with a shrug.

“Well that certainly took a dark turn.” Draco snorted. “Not that I’d expect any less from the King of the Underworld, even when the driving force was love he still managed to twist it into something vile.”

“Do you view yourself the same way?” She suddenly asked, voice quieter than before.

Draco grew still as the implication of what she’s asking hits him.

“You think that I can relate to Hades? Surely I’m not on that level of wickedness yet, don’t you think?” He frowned.

Astoria let out a ‘tsk’ noise, expressing her disapproval. “You got the wrong point, Draco. What I mean by that is that your heart is still chasing after something that the universe told you isn’t mean to be yours and yet you stand firm.”

Draco gulped, “Bollocks, she figured me out.” He thought.

Seeing how nervous he is, Astoria can’t help but laugh, making him all the more confused of the situation. “Why are you laughing? Aren’t you supposed to be mad?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Draco Malfoy. I’m still very much pissed at the way that you have used me as a rebound but I can’t put all the blame on you seeing that I myself let it happened. Deep down I knew that your heart wasn’t in it but I thought that with time maybe I could make you love me, but just by judging from the way that you still looked at her this afternoon, I finally admitted the truth to myself. I could never compete with Y/N, she was the love of your life and I’m willing to bet on my whole inheritance that she still is. So please stop lying to the both of us and go get your girl.”

Draco feel like slapping himself for the hundredth time, he really is an idiot. A piss-poor excuse of a person.

“I’m really sorry, Astoria. I didn’t mean for it to end up this way. I really thought that I could make this work too.” He said apologetically.

Astoria waved a hand in front of his face in dismissal, “Stop wasting time already! It’s fine I’ll get over it somehow. Don’t think that you’re off the hook though, I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me. In a purely platonic way of course.”

Draco smiled, “Of course, I wouldn’t expect otherwise. Thank you, Astoria.”

Astoria’s face turned mischievous, “Don’t thank me just yet, Loverboy.”

———————————————————————

Having an off day is a rare thing in (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s life, what with her ambition and her love for her job that always pushes her to the max, there’s just no time for anything else.

But because of the faithful event of yesterday, she founds herself spending her off day at The Cross Keys. It’s a wetherspoon pub tucked away on a discreet residential street in Chelsea, her usual haunt when she needs to escape from the wizarding world. Plus the chance that she could meet anyone that she knew here is small to none which is a win for her since currently she is pathetically day drinking alone. She would ask Harry for company, but he is visiting Ginny at Hogwarts. “Good for him,” she thought.

Willing her heartache to lessen with each flute of Mimosa that she keeps on flagging the bartender for.

“Well isn’t this a sight to see!” Astoria’s voice rang out, making Y/N almost sputtered out her precious drink. The key word being almost, she managed to hold it down although she could feel some of the liquid coming up to her nasal. Not classy indeed, yet another reminder why Astoria Greengrass is better suited for Draco Malfoy than her.

Without waiting for her reply, Astoria took the seat beside her and make herself comfortable. She raised a hand to flag down the bartender, “I’ll have a glass of what she’s having.” She said.

Finding herself out of words, Y/N settled for the first thing that came to mind, “I never thought that I’d meet you anywhere in Muggle London.”

Astoria chuckled, “You’d be surprised...”

“I already am if you haven’t figured as much.” Y/N replied.

“Please don’t be weirded out but I’ve asked around and your co-workers said that sometimes you go here, and I just took my chance since I don’t know where else I might find you.” Astoria said sheepishly.

The bartender came and put Astoria’s order in front of her, “Here you go, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” She said with a smile before grabbing the flute and bringing it to her mouth.

“Any particular reason on why you decided to hunt me down?” Y/N asked.

“I think you know already, but I’m here to clear some things up about Draco.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Why does he always sent for others to do his work for him? You do realize that you have no reason at all to do this right, Astoria?”

“No no no...” She said dismissively, “He didn’t send me here, I came here on my own. I feel like I owe it to you for how I acted yesterday.”

“Yesterday just wasn’t everyone’s finest moment I guess, I do apologize for my rudeness too, you took me by surprise and I wasn’t ready to face all that.” Y/N said, giving her the first earnest smile. “But just so you know, I think the two of you make a handsome couple.”

“Now that is where you are mistaken (Y/N) (Y/L/N), me and Draco could never have anything real. I want more than what he’s willing to give me and I know that it’s you that’s in his heart, not me. That doesn’t make a good love story, does it?”

Y/N scoffed, “I guess not, I swear men can be so stupid. They can’t even figure out what they want for Merlin’s sake.”

“I’ll drink to that, a bunch of idiots they may be but sometimes we can’t help our treacherous hearts from growing fond of them. I guess I just haven’t found my idiot yet.” Astoria sigh wistfully. “I’m a hopeless romantic, Y/N. I longed for a great love story that would put Psyche and Eros’s to shame.”

“Never took you for someone who enjoys mythology, didn’t that end in tragedy though?” Y/N asked.

“What’s a great love story without some tragedy in it?” Astoria answered with a wink.

Y/N laugh, “You are an interesting one, aren’t you, Greengrass? Draco sure is missing out.”

“The same can be said of you, Y/L/N.” She said with a chuckle.

———————————————————————

That very same night, Y/N is laying down on her divan while reading a book with a side of Pinot Noir. A very fine way to spend her night if she might say so herself.

That is before she was interrupted by the arrival of an unexpected guest.

At first she thought that it would be Harry because he promised her that he would bring some leftover of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, imagine her surprise when she founds that the person standing in the middle of her living room is none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Nice place you got here.” Is the first thing that he uttered, making Y/N want to punch him in his perfect face even more.

“Small talk was never your strong suit, Draco. And how do you even know where I live? Do you resort to stalking me now?” Y/N asked incredulously.

“Actually Potter helped me..” He admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“So you’re even in league with Harry now?”

“That is a bit of a stretch, but I can’t say that I’m not grateful of his help.” Draco said.

Y/N sigh and put her book down, focusing all her attention on him, “What do you want, Draco? You already came all the way here.”

Draco cautiously took a few steps towards her, testing out whether or not she’ll allow him to do so. When he saw her face softens, he let out a relieved sigh.

As he stood right on front of where she is still half laying down, he bend his knees so that they can be on eye level.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), there is no words that could fully describe how sorry I am for how I treated you in the past and for how poor I’ve handled our relationship after you’ve gotten your memory back. I am an imbecile, I know I am. You deserve someone a thousand times better than me, but I am a selfish man, Starlight. I want you all to myself, now and for the rest of my sorry life. That is if you will still have me, I promise to spend all my waking moments trying to make up for all the lost time.” He finished. “I really mean what I wrote in my letter, I’m only living a half life without you. Will you revive me, Love?”

Y/N stares at the man who holds her heart in the palm of his hand, a man who is quite literally her whole world too. How could she possibly say no when he is looking at her this way? As if she is the answer to all life’s mysteries. As if he would spend millenniums trying to unravel all that she has to offer him. Perhaps she should take a page out of Astoria’s book, perhaps this is her chance on having her very own great love story.

Draco waited patiently for her to answer, with nothing but hope and years worth of love glimmering behind his eyes.

“Win back my love, Draco Malfoy... and I’ll be yours again to whatever end.” She finally whispered out as she leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, breathing him in.

Draco reached out his hands to cup her face softly, rubbing her cheeks with his finger, “I am never letting you go again, Starlight.”

“As you should or I won’t hesitate to punch you in your crown jewel.” She replied threateningly.

“Lovely as always, dearest.” He chuckled.

———————————————————————

A/N : This is a bittersweet moment for me because I’m very proud of what I’ve created but still sad to see that we’ve come to an end, this is my first ever piece with several parts in it, I usually write oneshot only but I definitely had a lot of fun while making this one. I hope this series can be a favorite of yours too! See you on the next story (or stories perhaps?) darlings 🥰🥺♥️ P.S. Yes I listened to “Exile” by Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver the whole time I was writing this.

Taglist : @chaoticgirl04 @accioxdracox @randomsingingkoala @ivarlothbroks @sycathorn-slush @thescarletknight2014 @irritantive @vaeonshi @panicattheeverywherekid @maskd-hearts @capkatie @bookwormmusiclover15 @ahahanofanks @fictionalhoomanofnowhere

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