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#please read this like one of those ads on telly
rollinginthestars · 2 years
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Can’t think of a 4 digit pin? USE YOUR FAVOURITE CLONE! For example, 7567!
This is not recommended if your favourite clone is Cody, Fox, Fives or Wolffe
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pickinglilahs · 4 months
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Blackeclipse for the soul
Y'all, maybe it's time to switch gears...what should I write next? (Not that I won't keep adding chapters till the brain rot stops... ie never) AO3 link if you prefer to read there Part 20; Part 21; Part 22; Part 23; Part 24
After presents, games, and dinner, Regulus was finally able to disappear back upstairs. Remus offered to come up too, but Regulus declined. He just needed some time alone.
Remus could appreciate that. While there were times when he needed a break from people, Regulus seemed to thrive on being alone.
Remus had kissed his cheek and promised to keep James distracted until bedtime. He also warned that he would be up in an hour with hot chocolate to check on him.
Regulus had only smiled guiltily and nodded. He deserved that. They still hadn't told James about the incident in the dorm shower and neither planned to. They knew it wasn't good to keep secrets, but neither of them wanted James to blame himself.
It was the lesser of two evils.
So, that was why, while everyone else was distracted by Frosty the Snowman on the telly two hours later—because he trusted Regulus and thought he deserved the extra time—, Remus took two mugs of hot chocolate upstairs.
Upon finding the bedroom empty, Remus called, "Starshine?"
A soft, "Here," came from across the hall.
Trying not to panic, Remus went to the bathroom door. "I brought your hot chocolate."
There was a pause. "You can come in."
The door was unlocked, and Remus tried very hard not to expect a repeat of last time. Luckily, his fears dissolved at the sight of Regulus reclining in the bathtub, book in hand.
Remus smiled and shut the door behind him, sitting on the plush rug beside the tub. Regulus closed his book and traded it for the mug Remus offered.
"Thank you."
They sat in silence, enjoying the chocolate and the smell of the peppermint bubble bath.
Tentatively, Remus began, "You aren't on a regular cycle."
Regulus glanced at him, before looking back down at his mug. "Neither are you."
Remus shrugged, "I think it's the moons. Some are worse than others and it throws everything off. I was wondering if they would even out now that you guys stay with me, but I think it's too soon to tell."
Regulus nodded, "Between going home and school..."
Remus winced. "I don't know how you did it. Going home like that?"
Regulus let out a bitter laugh. "I didn't have a choice." He paused. "Mostly I was just grateful I got to be myself at school. If it hadn't been for Siri, and you I suppose..."
They smiled at each other. "I'm sure Siri would have helped just the same. He loves you; you know."
"Yeah, it's just, those first few years..." Regulus sighed.
Remus nodded and reached out, placing his hand over the one Regulus had resting on the side of the tub. "We were all arseholes to you. We felt like you hurt our new friend and used that to justify a lot of things. That doesn't make it okay."
Turning his hand over, they held each other's wrists. "I was so jealous. Of you specifically. You were smart and funny, and you didn't have a whole house deadnaming you."
Remus winced. "They don't still, right?"
"No. Evan and Barty put a stop to that." There was a devious sort of twinkle in his eyes that made Remus smile.
"Good." He hesitated, "And, you know, even when you two were fighting, he would send us to Slughorn and have us ask about you. Make sure you weren't being bullied. He would talk to Poppy too, make sure you were still doing okay."
Slightly slack-jawed, Regulus stared at him. He shook himself as Remus winced and shifted. He pulled his hand from Remus' wrist and brushed their Marks together.
"You okay?"
Remus hummed and leaned into the touch. "Cramps."
After a long pause, "Join me?"
Starting, Remus' eyes flew open, "No, that's okay. You wanted to be alone."
He made to stand but Regulus grabbed his arm.
"Please?"
It was the honesty in his eyes that finally convinced Remus. He sighed and shucked his clothes. Slightly self-conscious, even after the Fulls they spent together.
Regulus, understanding completely, shifted forward and focused on finishing his hot chocolate, setting the mug on the floor outside of the tub. Remus stepped in behind him, sighing as he sank into the warm water.
Regulus shifted down, leaning back against the older boy to rest his head on the other's shoulder. Remus kissed his curls and wrapped his arms around Regulus, folding his hands under the other boys' ribs.
~~~
And that was how James found them when everyone had gone home an hour later; both half asleep and unwilling to move from the water, still perfectly warm from the charmed tub.
James smiled and went to fetch a camera.
With the moment captured, James summoned towels and Remus' pajamas. He lifted Regulus from the tub first, drying him off with a warm towel and dressing him quickly, blood protection and all. Once he had been carried to bed, James went back for Remus.
He was sitting up in the water, rubbing his eyes. James kissed his head and picked him up, setting him on the lip of the tub to dry and dress him as well. When Remus gestured vaguely to the cabinet under the sink, James fetched supplies for him as well.
He tucked Remus in and went back to drain the tub and send the mugs back downstairs. James gathered the clothes and Regulus' book and took the lot back to the bedroom.
Once in his own pajamas, he crawled into bed and snuggled up behind Remus. Half awake, Remus rolled over top of James, so he was in the middle. Remus and Regulus curled up to James as they had done that first time in the hospital wing, heads on James' shoulders, hands seeking Marks.
They were all fast asleep by the time Dad poked his head in a few minutes later, snapping a picture to show the others.
~~~
Remus refused to get out of bed the next morning.
Regulus seconded.
James, being the amazing person he was, indulged them.
He brought them breakfast in bed, summoned books and chocolates, brought them pain potions and hot water bottles, rubbed their feet and shoulders, and kept up a litany of stories and plans for them until they finally kicked him out after lunch.
Actually, Regulus sent him to fetch more soup and Remus wrote a note to Marleen, begging her to come kidnap James.
After 15 minutes of assuring James that they would be fine and would just be napping while he was away, Marleen was finally able to drag James out the door.
Sighing in relief, both boys snuggled down into the covers and promptly fell asleep.
~~~
The next few days were much the same.
James doing his best to wait on them hand and foot, and them indulging him until lunch.
The second day, Maan requested his help out in the garden.
By the third, Regulus joined him down in Dad's lab, leaving Remus to wallow in peace.
James did manage to sneak back upstairs quite a few times, though. Keeping Remus supplied with chocolate and hot water bottles—despite the charms they both could place to make those visits unnecessary—.
James had learned early on that Remus, and now Regulus, didn't always want to be taken care of. Whether it was because it drew attention to why they were sick, made them feel helpless and fragile, or because they just needed to be alone.
Remus, and now Regulus, had also learned that taking care of them was how James showed his love. So, if they indulged him a bit, that was no one's business but theirs.
~~~
On New Year's Eve, Mam finally had to return home. She was helping the ladies at church throw a party at the library that afternoon, so she said her goodbyes after breakfast.
She hugged both James and Regulus, thanking them quietly and asking them to keep taking care of her son.
They assured her they had already planned to and thanked her for the soup and presents.
They took her bags to her car while she said goodbye to Remus. They held onto each other for a long time, both unable to let go. Mam swayed them back and forth, whispering how happy she was for him and making him promise to write and—hopefully—call.
They only broke apart when Sirius came bursting through the door, accusing her of trying to leave without saying goodbye to him as well.
Everyone laughed and she hugged him as well before kissing Remus' cheek one last time and stepping out the door. Remus watched her from the porch until her car turned the corner and disappeared.
@starchasersunseeker @poetrypirate @niad4827 @bradley-95147-blog @shyshadows430
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secretkeeper13 · 3 years
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Wannabe
Summary:  The Sixth Year Gryffindor boys discover the Spice Girls, but Harry only wants to be Ginny’s lover.
Yes, you read that right. This fluffy, kind-of-crack HBP missing moment was born from a conversation in the Hinny Discord (and my 90s tween years). 
Content warning: If you aren’t into wank jokes, teenage boys shamelessly ogling pop icons, unfiltered Ron, and don’t agree that Sporty was the least attractive Spice Girl (apologies, Mel C), then this may not be the fic for you ;)
Since historical accuracy is paramount to this story (sarcasm), the magazine referenced in the fic is the March 1997 issue of The Face. Google it if you want to see the cover and photos (you know you want to).
Thank you @thedistantdusk, beta supreme, for editing and always encouraging my ridiculousness ;)  Happy Thursday!
Read it below the cut, or on Ao3.
Harry flopped onto his bed, tired but pleased with how well the team was flying. At this rate, they’d have a fighting chance to win the cup against Ravenclaw, especially now that Katie was back. It’d been their best practice yet, although he’d been repeatedly distracted by Ginny, laughing at her antics, admiring the way her eyes blazed with determination just before she scored a goal, trying not to stare at her arse as she bent low over her broomstick.
“What’s that?” Ron said, jolting Harry from his thoughts.
Ron looked across the dormitory at Seamus, who sat on his bed staring intently at a magazine with Dean looking over his shoulder.
“See for yourself, mate.” Seamus smirked, holding up the magazine to reveal the cover, a Muggle photograph of five girls, all scantily clad in lingerie and extremely fit.
Harry sat up immediately for a better look. Even Neville, from his bed next to Harry’s, had his eyes glued to the cover.
Ron let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, clamoring across the room to stand next to Seamus for a better look.
“Took it from my little sister over Easter hols and brought it back for Seamus,” Dean said, grinning. “Thought he’d appreciate it.”
“What’s your little sister doing with something like this?”
“Not what you’ll be doing with it later, that’s for sure,” Seamus said, making a rude hand gesture. Ron flipped him off as the rest of them laughed.
“They’re the Spice Girls,” Dean explained. “A Muggle singing group. All the girls are obsessed with them right now. Girl Power, you know?”
Harry didn’t know, but he decided he would very much like to find out as he walked over for a closer look.
“Fuck, they’re fit,” Ron said, looking over Seamus’ shoulder at the cover of the magazine.
Harry had to agree. There was a perky, smiling blonde, two brunettes in the middle with dark, shiny hair and sultry gazes, a redhead with great tits next to them, and a pretty girl with wild curls and tanned skin posed seated at their feet.
“And this is just the cover, wait ‘til you see the photos inside.” Seamus said, waggling an eyebrow.
“They’re everywhere right now- can’t turn on the radio without hearing their songs- they’re all over the telly too,” Dean said, as the rest of them continued to stare at the cover. “They go by nicknames, and the girls all have favorites.”
Dean pointed to the blonde. “This one’s Baby, there’s Sporty on her other side. The redhead is Ginger-“
“Original, that one,” Harry said dryly, and the others laughed.
Dean continued as the laughter subsided. “The one next to her with that stuck up look is Posh, and the one sitting down is Scary- she’s my sister’s favorite. I’m with her on that one.” He finished with a wink.
“Reckon Scary’s my favorite too,” Seamus said, his tone thick with bravado.
“No way,” Ron said, indignant, “that Posh one, she’s the fittest. Look at her legs.”
“Nah, she’s a bit too high and mighty. She looks like she’d always be telling you what to do,” Dean said.
“Just Ron’s type then,” Seamus quipped.
Dean and Seamus roared with laughter. Out of loyalty, Harry tried (but failed) to suppress his own laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
“Oh, fuck off,” Ron replied, the tips of his ears red.
“What’s The Chosen One’s choice?” Seamus asked, turning to Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’d go with Ginger.”
“Oooooh, Harry picks the redhead,” Seamus said, eyebrow raised, exchanging a pointed look with Dean.
“Got a thing for gingers, do you then?”
Shit. Panic that his casual admission might reveal his most private, fiercely-guarded feelings about Ginny began to overtake him.
“Didn’t pick her for her hair color, mate,” Harry retorted, trying to sound flippant, as he gestured to her tits.
Seamus laughed and slapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that he hadn’t just made the fact that he fancied Ginny completely obvious. In truth, the girl did remind him a bit of Ginny- not just her hair color, but her build too, and something about the way she carried herself in the photo. He tried not to blush, though heat rushed to his cheeks. He stole a glance at Ron who, thankfully, was still gaping at the magazine and not paying attention to the exchange.  
“What’s your vote, then, Nev?” Seamus asked.
Neville, standing next to Harry, his cheeks already pink, looked startled to be included. “Erm, she looks nice,” he said softly, motioning towards the blonde, “but they’re all good looking, really,” he added, his round face now flaming scarlet.
“Nobody for Sporty then?” Dean asked, laughing.
“Nah, who's picking Sporty over any of those four?” Ron said bluntly. “Let’s see what’s inside, then.”
The photo spread inside the magazine did not disappoint, Harry thought, taking in the individual, full body photos of each girl in very suggestive poses.
“Damn,” Ron said appreciatively.
“Told you it was good.”
The dormitory grew quiet for a moment as Seamus flipped through the pages.
“Wait,” said Ron, pointing to a line in the article, “This says the lyrics to their hit song are ‘If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends.’ Really?”
“Are you actually reading the article, mate? That’s impressive,” Harry said wryly.
“It’s true- heard it a million times over Easter break, that bloody song’s on the radio every other minute,” Dean replied.
“Well, it’s fucking terrible advice. What girl wants you getting with her friends?” Ron said.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
“Ron,” a voice called. Harry realized instantly that it was Ginny.
Fuck. Seamus shoved the magazine under the duvet as the rest of them scrambled to disperse, Neville tripping over his own feet, Ron hitting his head on the top of the bedpost as he ducked to sit on his bed.
“Come in,” Ron called.
Ginny opened the door and leaned on the side of the doorframe. She looked unfairly beautiful, Harry thought, her cheeks still rosy from practice, her long hair loose and flowing down her back, ending just above the swell of her arse, which looked fantastic in her tight joggers.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The five of them had each ended up on their respective beds, fully dressed, shoes and all, with no books or parchment in sight. It must’ve looked strange.
She quirked an eyebrow. “You five having a cosy little chat?”
Neville chuckled nervously. Seamus coughed. Ron’s ears turned red. Dean stared at the duvet, determined to avoid her gaze, probably for a variety of reasons, Harry thought.
Ginny shook her head slightly. “Never mind, I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” she said, grinning at Harry. His cheeks grew warm, and he gave a slight shrug back.  
She turned to Ron, her tone more serious. “Hermione asked me to get you. The Second Years were playing Exploding Snap at a table in the common room, and the explosion blew up some inkwells. There’s ink all over everything. She needs your help cleaning off the boys. Euan Abercrombie’s covered head to toe in it.”
“Little idiots,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. He stood and walked past Ginny onto the spiral staircase.
“Great practice, Harry,” Ginny said. She beamed at him, her smile brilliant, and in that moment, he wished, more than anything, that they were alone in the dormitory, instead of awkwardly surrounded by her (very recent) ex, Seamus, and Neville.
“You too. We’re going to flatten them,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound like his breath was caught in his throat, which it was.
She just winked back. His heart, already fluttering faster than the wings of a snitch, skipped a beat.  “Night all,” she said, with a wave to Neville.
As she closed the door, Harry sank back onto his pillows, thinking only of Ginny, the magazine long forgotten.
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stargazing-enby · 3 years
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“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé” + Drarry 😘
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Thank you @stavromulabetaaa @secretlycrazyhummingbird and anon for your prompts! I turned them into a New Years story, I hope that's all right 😁 
Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!
Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Fake Fiancés, Auror Partners, Locked Down Together, Love Confessions | Read on AO3
“...And we’re still unsure whether the situation will be safe enough for us to marry in spring, so that’s why we haven’t organised much yet. Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know as soon as we have a date.”
Harry, mind still fuzzy with sleep, empty mug in hand, stopped in his tracks by the living room door. Had he heard right?
“We understand, Draco,” came Narcissa’s voice from the Floo. “But you must understand our concerns, too.”
“I do, mother. But you know this was necessary.”
“We do,” Lucius said. “The most important thing is that we’re all safe right now, even if we missed having you home last night.”
Harry didn’t hear the end of the conversation—didn’t notice Draco walking into the kitchen a minute later; he was too busy frowning at the kettle. 
“Morning,” said Draco from behind him. “Didn’t know you were up.”
“Didn’t know you were engaged,” Harry said without thinking—without turning around, without even understanding why he didn’t want to turn around; didn’t want Draco to see the whirl of emotions unravelling in his chest.
“Oh,” Draco said, voice low. “You heard that.”
Harry shook his head, eyes still fixed on the kettle. 
“Not on purpose.” His words came out strained, and he cursed himself inwardly. Why did he even care? It wasn’t like Draco’s personal life was any of his business. Sharing a flat didn’t make them friends, now did it? No matter how much Harry had grown to enjoy having the git around all the time, and watching him fall asleep while they watched telly together at night, and getting to see Draco’s tousled hair in the mornings—
Draco sighed—a slow, heavy sound—and leaned against the counter beside him. Harry did look up at him then, and the maelstrom of emotion probably still all over his face came to an abrupt halt when he realised Draco was holding back a giggle.
“I’m not engaged, Potter,” he said, grin widening. “You look really upset at the idea, though. It’s a cute look on you.”
Draco’s mirth was beautiful, and so, so good at softening Harry from inside out. Still, Harry crossed his arms over his chest with an indignant huff, grumbling, “Sod off, I thought you were keeping an engagement from me!” When Draco only laughed at him, he added, “Why on Earth do your parents think you’re engaged, then?” 
“I’ll tell you,” Draco said through another giggle, “but don’t murder me. I’m the best Auror partner you’ll ever have.”
Harry just raised his eyebrows at him—curiosity and concern mixing with a subtle hint of betrayal that refused to fade away just yet.
“My parents are…very traditional,” Draco started.
“I’d gathered that much, thank you.”
“Shut up, you giant prick. The thing is, they firmly believe people must live with their parents or on their own until they marry. Sharing a living space with anyone other than your spouse is…improper to them. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail as to why.”
“You really don’t,” Harry said, grimacing. 
“So when I told them I was moving in with you temporarily, I sort of…kind of…had to tell them we were engaged, and the only reason I was moving in with you before getting married was that we wanted to wait until the pandemic was over to have a big wedding with all our loved ones.”
To Harry’s credit, he didn’t drop the mug full of piping hot coffee all over himself.
He did gape at Draco for a good three seconds, though.
“Your parents think we’re engaged?”
“That’s what I said, yes.” Draco had the decency to look sheepish, at least. “If it’s any consolation, they also trust me to remain chaste until my wedding night, so they don’t think you and I have—”
“Oh my god.”
“I would never, anyway. They raised me well.”
“Stop. Shut up.” Harry rested the mug on the kitchen table���sat heavily on a chair, gaze unfocused. “But didn’t you explain—”
“I did explain to them I was moving in with you because we work together and it’s safest to have you as the only person in my bubble so I don’t put them at risk, yes. They argued I had enough money to rent a place for myself, and I panicked and told them you and I had plans to marry anyway, so it wasn’t all that bad, since they trust me to wait until my wedding night to—” 
“Yeah, yes, got it.” Harry pressed his eyes closed, desperately trying to will images of a virginal Draco Malfoy draped over a white king-sized bed from his mind. “Were you planning on telling me any of this? You’ve been here for weeks…” 
“I was, of course.” 
Harry side-eyed him.
“It’s just—I guess…I was waiting for the right time to tell you, and it never really came up. And don’t give me that look! Remember how long it took you to tell me you weren’t dating Ginny anymore?” 
“That’s different!” Harry said. 
“Potter, you let me send both of you a Christmas card as though you were a couple and replied to it with her because it felt too awkward to tell me you’d broken up!” 
Harry took a sip of his coffee to avoid Draco’s gaze. 
“That may be true,” he muttered eventually, when he looked up at Draco again and found him still looking expectantly at him. “But this involves me directly. I mean, what if I’d answered a Floo call from them while you were in the bathroom and they’d brought up the engagement?” 
“Excuse you, I never schedule anything at bathroom hours!” 
“I...don’t want to know what that means.” Would it be too much for him to bury his face in his arms and fall right back asleep? “What are we going to do now?” 
“We wait until lockdown is over and pretend we’ve broken up and are no longer engaged, of course.” 
“What, so your parents hate me forever?” Harry asked. “No, thank you!”
“What do you mean, no thank you? The alternative, in case you hadn’t noticed, is to marry me, Potter!” 
“You’re making my year start with a headache,” Harry groaned. “I hope you’re happy.” 
“Very much so, actually,” Draco said. “Because you will pretend you’re my fiancé over Floo, won’t you? My parents have been asking to talk with you directly, and if it doesn’t happen soon, they’re going to start thinking you’re a bad husband…” 
“Fiancé! I mean—flatmate. Colleague. Ugh. Fine. Fine. I’ll do it,” he said when Draco just pouted dolefully. He couldn’t resist those puppy eyes, dammit. “But I’ll be cursing you to hell and back in my mind the entire time.” 
Draco’s grin was definitely not worth the sacrifice. 
***
“Harry! What a delight to finally be able to talk to you. Draco says you’ve been busy with work matters lately.” 
“Y-Yeah, it’s been chaos,” Harry said, resisting the urge to glare at Draco and hoping Narcissa couldn’t see the puzzle sitting on the coffee table or the stack of movies by the sofa through the Floo. “I’m really glad to see you, too.” Fuck, that’d sounded awfully awkward. “Happy new year, by the way—let’s hope it’s a better one.” 
“Oh, I’m sure it will be. The year an offspring gets married is always among the best of a mother’s life.”
“Right. Of course.” Add ‘upsetting Narcissa terribly’ to the list of reasons to curse Draco. 
“And I imagine it will be an even happier year for you two, especially if a future heir is in the picture by the end of it!” 
ADD ‘ALMOST CHOKING TO DEATH ON MY SALIVA’ TO THE LIST OF REASONS TO—
“Mother, please, I think it’s a little bit to early for that—” 
“I know, I know, sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m just really excited for you, my Draco. You’ve wanted this for so long…”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. 
“Harry, you are one very lucky man, I hope you know that,” Narcissa went on, oblivious to the look Harry and Draco were sharing—the colour drained from Draco’s cheeks, a breath caught in Harry’s lungs. “I do hope you will be taking the Malfoy name, too! It would be an honour to have you as a part of our family tree…”
She went on about the Sacred Twenty-eight for what seemed like forever, and Harry was only vaguely aware of Draco interrupting her with the excuse they had to get back to work and ending the call after a round of good-byes. 
For a moment, they both stared into the faceless flames. 
“You’re not going to buy it if I tell you I really do need to get back to work, right?” Draco said after a moment, voice low. 
“You know the answer to that.” 
Draco huffed. 
“Well, then, go ahead and ask what you want to ask. Don’t make me suffer for longer than necessary.” 
Harry sneaked a glance in Draco’s direction. Unlike a few moments before, his face was a dark shade of red, hand clutching the edge of the carpet, knees drawn close to his chest. 
“I don’t want to ask if you don’t want to tell me,” Harry murmured, looking back into the flames. 
“It’s not like I can Obliviate you,” Draco retorted. “You heard what you heard.”
Harry nodded. 
“That you’ve wanted me for a very long time.”
Draco didn’t reply. 
Harry glanced at Draco’s hand again, now playing nervously with the fringe of the carpet, and, after a moment of hesitation that faded with his next exhale, he reached out and rested his hand on it. Draco’s fingers stilled under his touch, and Draco’s eyes found his—wide, scared, vulnerable. 
He dared run the tips of his fingers over Draco’s knuckles, and his own breath caught when he heard Draco’s hitch. 
“Draco…” Harry started, not knowing what he was even going to say. “The past few weeks have been… they’ve been—”
“Don’t,” Draco said, voice strained. “Don’t. Just—” He looked away again. “Just tell me you just want to be colleagues and be done with it, please.” 
“Maybe that’s not what I want.” He slipped his fingers between Draco’s soft own; squeezed them gently. “Maybe what I want isn’t so different from what you want. You don’t know what’s going on inside my mind. You have no idea what the past few weeks have meant to me.” 
Draco didn’t move under his touch—didn’t seem to move at all, except for the quick, uneven rise and fall of his chest. When he talked, the words came out quickly, in a whisper, as though he was terrified to hear himself say them.
“What are you saying, Potter?”
“What I’m saying is I want more of this. More puzzles, and movies, and more of your way-too-salty chicken soup, and more evenings and mornings by your side. I’m saying I hadn’t realised until very recently how much I want more of you, Draco. But I do. Merlin, I do.” 
A sound somewhere between a whine and a choked cackle came out of Draco’s throat.
“You sound like I’ve actually proposed to you, you idiot,” he groaned. Harry rolled his eyes at him, squeezed his fingers yet again.
“I’m being serious!” he said, unable to hold back a laugh. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m not! I’m just—this whole situation, it’s…”
“I know,” Harry murmured. “But it doesn’t have to be. Things don’t have to be so different now. I mean, we already work together and we’ve been having movie nights every Saturday for, what, three years now? And now we live under the same roof, we cook meals together, we fall asleep together on the couch…Merlin. We’re already like a married couple, aren’t we?” Harry said, horrified. “No wonder your parents bought the engagement story!”
“Wait till I tell you they were actually surprised it hadn’t happened sooner…”
Harry buried his face in his knees to stifle a groan.
“Come on,” he said after a moment, and stood up still holding on to Draco’s hand. “Let’s make some lunch and pretend like this wasn’t the most embarrassing conversation we’ve ever had.”
Draco’s fingers were still comfortably hooked around his as they made their way to the kitchen.
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aj-artjunkyard · 2 years
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I posted 566 times in 2021
86 posts created (15%)
480 posts reblogged (85%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 5.6 posts.
I added 1,556 tags in 2021
#dc comics - 389 posts
#green lantern - 214 posts
#hal jordan - 197 posts
#batman - 142 posts
#green lantern corps - 128 posts
#bruce wayne - 124 posts
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#damian wayne - 96 posts
#robin - 77 posts
#batfamily - 76 posts
Longest Tag: 136 characters
#watched the live action avatar as a kid and wondered why there were so many bad reviews then watched the show years later and understood
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
*Alien invasion in Gotham*
Batman: can everyone PLEASE just GO INSIDE?
The entire population of Gotham, beating up laser-shooting aliens with chairs and sticks: YOU’RE NOT OUR DAD
300 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 12:05:47 GMT
#4
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Batdad is exhausted ok
I just really wanted an excuse to draw batman in his boneless shadow style and loved every second of it! I have 13 more audio samples from this video but this one took me days, so there may or may not be a part 2
DO NOT REUPLOAD/REPOST.
(Audio from Jacksepticeye’s play through of Litle Nightmares: the Hideaway DLC)
543 notes • Posted 2021-05-15 20:13:56 GMT
#3
When Damian and Jon are the Batman and Superman of the JL, they’re gonna be incomprehensible.
They’ve been best friends since they were preteens, and now they can communicate with the most miniscule glances and half-baked muddled sentences and no one has any clue what they’re saying over the comms
No one in the Justice League is sure if they’ve ever had a full conversation because they just keep doing this
“Mmm. How about we- yknow- like” *Vague hand gestures*
*scrunches face*
“No yeah you’re right that wouldn’t work”
“BUT-”
“butt”
“BUT, if we send them guys *gestures vaguely* to that place.. uh. Remember that place where we caught that villain dude that one time”
“Yeh duh”
“Yeh so uhhhh. What was I saying-”
“Yeah no I got it we’ll just do that plan but slightly to the left”
“Right-o let’s move out”
JL: NO WHATS THE PLAN
Damian and Jon: WHAT DO YOU MEAN. WERE YOU NOT LISTENING
847 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 14:16:21 GMT
#2
ok DC fans. We’ve had AU fics about the JL finding out that Batman has kids. That he's not always a terrifying demon but is actually soft with his 55 Found Family members. We’ve had them, and let me tell you, I’ll gladly read 13643 iterations of that same plot. Love them. Send any reading recs my way.
BUT
WHERE are the fics where the JL finds out that Hal Jordan is, among other things, a universal legend.
Imagine an AU in which the JL know literally nothing about Hal’s outer space exploits (much like the ‘JL meets the Batfam’ fics are set in AUs where no one knows anything of Gotham or Batman outside the JL). Imagine that all Earth’s heroes know about the Green Lantern Corps is that they're interplanetary space cops, and that sometimes Hal needs to ‘report for duty’, assumedly stopping volcanic eruptions or evacuating alien citizens from a doomed planet. When asked, Hal confirms that those are among the things he does.
But then they start to get more space missions, and coincidentally learn more about the GL corps. 
More specifically that Hal - the comeback king, the irresponsible, goofy, mildly irritating/extremely annoying guy on the team that rarely takes orders and never shuts his mouth, is one of the most highly revered beings among the known star systems?? 
This dude steps into a bar in Sector who-knows-where, uses constructs to block every exit and announces his name, the patrons are practically yelling the information he needs. Citizens cheer when he lands on certain planets. Also, the guy has been dead so many times. He has become pure will (which destroyed an enemy planet) and has even been Corps Leader. He’s broken the limitations of the ring so regularly that the JL assumed that all GLs could just do the things he does. Nope! 
There are some other gems too. For a man with no regard for rules, his best friend is his old drill sergeant? Wait, are you telling us that this ‘Sinestro’ guy, the Joker to the Green Lantern’s Batman, personally trained Hal???? Hal, be honest here, are you a reformed hero????? Why are people so scared of you???? I thought you were just some guy with anime magic jewellery???????
898 notes • Posted 2021-08-17 19:45:46 GMT
#1
Me, at work: *blankly putting stuff on shelves*
Me, mentally: ok but “who would win in a race: Superman or The Flash” is old and boring, “who would win in a hot dog eating contest: Superman or The Flash” on the other hand 👀. Lil bit spicier. More nuanced.
On one side, Superman might physically be able to fit more dogs in his stomach, but mentally? Emotionally? Supes is way too polite, he just wouldn’t have the technique or the will. He’d feel his mother’s disappointed frown weighing him down with every sloppy bite.
Flash, however, eats his paycheque like there’s no tomorrow. He shovels food in his mouth hour after hour like it’s his last meal on death row. Barry would have the mental capabilities to not only wharf down 50 hot dogs in half a second, but he would enjoy it. He may throw up though, which would get him eliminated
The only rival to these two is Shazam, who is a literal 10 year old child with the power of a god and the bottomless stomach of a preteen boy. Billy would not need super speed to be tough competition for Superman.
Batman has never once eaten a hotdog and would gag at the mere smell
1746 notes • Posted 2021-09-19 18:02:04 GMT
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seaweedbrain404 · 3 years
Text
Wolfstar Au!: Hot and Cold (pt 2 of Parties and Morning Regrets)
@icitlali asked if there was a second part and um- yeah i wrote this, there may be more parts to come
pt 1
pt3
read it on ao3
Remus thought inviting Sirius up was the right thing to do which is the only reason he did. He dared to let himself hope but he didn’t really want to see Sirius. Still, Remus had manners and it was so cold outside that his own fingers were turning purple. Leaving Sirius out in the cold and making him probably walk home seemed too mean, even for Remus. Although, he thought Sirius definitely deserved it.
He followed Sirius up to the flat, Lily looked more than surprised when she saw Sirius come in and gave Remus another look. It was one of those looks that Remus didn’t like getting, the we’re-going-to-talk-about-this-later kind of look. He shrugged it off, too preoccupied with his bloody hip.
“Remus, did you really walk all the way here?” Lily crossed her arms over her chest as Remus closed the door behind them.
“Yeah, so what” He replied through gritted teeth. “I’m going for a shower to wash off the smell of stale alcohol”
“You’re going to be the death of me one day, Remus Lupin” Lily’s voice called to his retreating back. “Sirius, how are you?”
Remus heard vague small talk as he navigated his way to his bedroom. The pain in his hip wasn’t unbearable exactly. It was just bad enough for it to consume all his thoughts. All he needed was a warm bath, some painkillers and to limit his movements for the rest of the day. Easy. Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait until later though seeing as it would probably be rude to soak in the tub while having a guest over.
Showering after a night out was always a pleasant experience. He emerged from the shower just a couple minutes later with damp hair, a stolen pair of Lily’s yoga pants and a clean jumper.
“Ah, here’s the idiot who has no regard for his health” Lily smiled as Remus walked into the kitchen. “Are those mine?”
“Maybe, painkillers please?” He walked across the room and leaned his chin on Lily’s shoulder.
Sirius watched the interaction between the two with some hint of longing in his eyes. Remus wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he had never been so casually touchy with anyone but now him and Lily were even closer than they were in school.
Lily wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing circles on his hip. “Sirius, there’s a small pill bottle in the cupboard just there-“ she pointed to the right above her head “-would you mind grabbing it please?”
Sirius blinked for a moment, seemingly frozen at the sight of them. Then, he nodded. “Yeah- yeah, I got it”
He passed Lily the retrieved painkillers without looking at them. Lily hummed gratefully in return, easing Remus, who had hid his face in the crook of her neck, off her. He leaned back against the counter and Lily switched the kettle on.
“I promised Mrs Pettigrew from next door that I’d pick up her groceries today” Lily turned to Remus, glancing at Sirius, “and do a bit of cleaning for her since her grandson is out of town, do you think you’ll manage?”
“Yeah” Remus breathed out. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay”
Lily pursed her lips and looked to Sirius again. “Make sure he stays home, yeah?”
Remus made a noise of protest as Sirius nodded, “I doubt he’ll want to listen to me”
“Lily, I can take care of myself”
“Hardly, you’re in a right state after being without me for a few hours” She scolded, “If you strain yourself any more then you’re going to really fuck up your hip”
“I can’t fuck up something that’s already fucked, can I?”
“I mean it, take it easy and don’t be an idiot”
“Alright, fine”
“And I want to talk to you later”
Remus paled a little at that, despite fully seeing it coming. He made a noncommittal sound and Lily, satisfied with herself, left the room to layer up on clothes and help the nice old lady who lived across the hall.
There was a tense moment when she left. The kettle went off and Remus poured himself a cup, then paused. “Tea?”
“Sure”
Sirius seemed more relaxed now that Lily had gone. It was as if he had been on best behavior when she was there and now he didn’t have to be. Remus couldn’t really blame him, Lily could be very scary sometimes and she was always unreasonably overprotective of Remus. In all fairness, he felt the same way towards her.
So Remus poured two cups of tea and then added milk and sugar accordingly. He had assumed that Sirius took his tea the way he did back in school and he was only a little ashamed he still knew what the other man liked in his tea off the top of his head.
“Am I allowed to ask about the accident?” Sirius picked up his cup and took a sip.
“Why do you want to know?” Remus retorted, taking a painkiller.
“Lily wouldn’t tell me… and I’m…. worried” Sirius looked embarrassed to admit it but he did admit it which was good enough for Remus. It showed some sort of growth, some kind of potential.
“Depends on whether you’re going to pity me or not because frankly, I don’t care much for it”
“Jesus, you don’t have to be so snappy”
Remus scowled at him, not saying another word. He didn’t care about being snappy in that particular moment. His hip hurt like hell, he could feel his leg slowly going as well and whenever he told people anything about the accident they all treated him like a fragile porcelain doll.
Sirius cleared his throat before speaking again. “I won’t pity you, if you don’t want me to”
“What do you want to know?” Remus asked, disregarding what Sirius had said.
“What happened?”
“I worked at this publishing place, had a late night so I took a cab home” Remus began, even thinking about that night made his heart race and his eyes sting. “Someone was driving under the influence and hit us- the cab, I mean.. and it was really bad but they put these screws and plates all in my side, shoulder down to my shin”
Remus paused a moment, wiping his eyes on the back of his palm. Sirius made to touch him but he jerked away, a little too fast and hissed in pain. Sirius retreated his hand, looking crestfallen.
“Anyway, I had to quit the job cause it was too far to walk and I refused to get in any type of car or bus or really any type vehicle since then” Remus rushed the end of the story, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight.
Sirius took a step forward and this time Remus allowed him to. He carefully opened his arms and slowly wrapped them around Remus, giving him more than enough time to move if he didn’t want this.
Remus, however, was just exhausted. He collapsed right into Sirius’ arms which tightened around him. The bad thing was, he was still shaking, his lungs refused to take in air and oh, there was the whole thing about just falling into his ex-boyfriend’s arms. Good thing was, he felt safe.
Then he started crying, his own arms wrapping around Sirius’ waist while his arms were around Remus’ back. He was pretty sure the only reason he still remained standing was Sirius’ strength forged by years of playing rugby. Remus wanted to kick himself, everything about this situation was just so pathetic and he hated it. He hated himself for it.
Sirius, meanwhile, said nothing and just rubbed circles on the taller man’s back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible to you and now you’re literally comforting me, maybe I am the asshole”
“Nah, I kind of deserved it”
“Yeah you did”
“Hey! you’re not supposed to say that”
“But it’s the truth”
“Shut up”
Remus let himself laugh quietly. He was mortified by this display of vulnerability and dearly wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Then he made a feeble attempt at pushing Sirius away, nearly toppling over himself. He had to grip the counter behind him to stop himself from hitting the floor. Sirius made to catch him but Remus swatted his hand away.
“I think you should go”
“But I promised Li-“
“I’m tired and she’ll be back soon”
Lie. Remus knew that Lily would be gone for at least two more hours, maybe more if Mrs Pettigrew offered biscuits.
“Then I’ll just stay till she comes back, she really worries about you” Sirius shrugged like it was final and Remus didn’t want to talk about it so he slowly hobbled to the living room.
“Do you-“
“No”
Sirius started asking but Remus snapped at him before he could finish his question.
“Sorry” Sirius mumbled, hands up in surrender. Remus could feel eyes on his back as he managed to get to the couch. He switched on the telly, laying on the side of his body that hurt the least.
Remus figured that if Sirius didn’t leave, then maybe he could ignore him to the point of leaving. Unfortunately it didn’t work because this was Sirius so instead of sitting on the chair near the couch or even on the floor, he stood at Remus’ head. Hands were gesturing for Remus to sit up but he ignored them.
“Remus, squish over a minute”
With a groan, he turned onto his back and sat up. Sirius slid into the open space and Remus turned so that his feet were at Sirius’ lap instead of his head. He wasn’t sure how his body would react if Sirius started gently twirling strands of his hair and admiring them as if they were made of gold.
Remus closed his eyes, feeling fingers tracing shapes on his exposed ankles.
Suddenly Sirius spoke. “You and Lily have gotten really close”
His eyes shot open, a little startled by the tone. He wasn’t sure how long he was out but he definitely slept at least twenty minutes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was groggy with sleep, the side of his mouth damp from drool
“It’s weird, I’ve never seen you so much as hug anyone”
Remus wiped the side of his mouth. “People are allowed to change and Lily is my best friend”
“It’s just- you’ve changed so much and I’m struggling to keep up” Sirius’ tone was strange, the most un-Sirius thing Remus had ever experienced him do since they met.
Remus’ eyebrows knit together, a frown now playing on his face. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know… besides, I don’t have to change according to your terms”
“I never said that” Sirius spat.
Remus sat up in response, leaning back on his elbows. “Then why are you constantly bitching about how much I’ve changed?”
“Because you have! It’s like you’re this whole new person and I don’t even know you”
“I haven’t spoken to you since we were 17, that was 6 years ago and you expect me not to change?” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I went to college, I got in a horrendous car accident Sirius, do you really expect me to be the same person I was when we were teenagers?”
“No- it’s just, I don’t like change”
“Fucking hell Sirius, the world doesn’t care and guess what? that’s constantly changing too”
“Yeah but not as drastically as you! You work in a bakery for Christ’s sake when I know you always wanted to be a writer”
“And I know you vowed to never work for your parents and here you are, doing daddy’s dirty work no doubt”
“Remus���
“What”
“You were never this cruel”
“No, I suppose not”
The two sat in silence, and it took all of Remus’ willpower not to kiss him.
“Can we just be friends or something” Sirius looked sincere enough, good natured enough for Remus to want it.
“Something? Something like wh-“
But Remus never got to finish his sentence because suddenly Sirius’ knees were straddling his hips and they were kissing.
What the fuck!
Remus wanted to scream, he was tired and annoyed and now he didn’t know what to feel. He pushed Sirius away for a second time that day, both their breaths coming in uneven.
“No” Remus breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly.
“No?”
“Yes, no… I can’t… what were you thinking?”
Sirius looked both hurt and surprised but Remus wasn’t concerned about that, he was more confused than anything and also there was the almost unbearable pain in his hip.
“I- well you were being cruel and this is the only way I knew how to shut you up effectively”
Now it was Remus’ turn to look hurt, he pushed Sirius again with more force than before. He brought his head back down and refused to say another word.
“Remus”
Nothing.
“Remus”
He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep again.
“I’m sorry”
“Remus, I’m really sorry”
“I know I shouldn’t have said that”
“I did want to kiss you, I also wanted you to stop being mean”
“Come on Moony”
Remus’ eyes shot open at the childhood nickname. “Leave me alone Sirius, I’m tired and sore”
“Are you cross?”
“With you?”
Sirius hummed in response.
“Yeah but mainly cause I’m tired”
“Oh, I’m sorry”
“Just stop talking”
Sirius did just that. Remus felt bad though, he very carefully and hesitantly moved again so that his head was on Sirius’ lap. “I’m sorry for being a dick” he whispered, eyes closing again.
“I’m sorry for not thinking before I speak” came Sirius’ soft reply.
Remus felt Sirius’ fingers move through his hair tentatively as if he was uncertain whether or not this was allowed. “No, I’m being a moody git, all hot and cold on you”
“I couldn’t blame you for it”
“Well you should”
Sirius didn’t reply and Remus remained on the side that didn’t hurt him, facing away from Sirius and towards the telly.
41 notes · View notes
etoileholland · 4 years
Text
My devilish darling boy
Anonymous asked: Dad!tom’s kid accidentally ruins the new script for his movie after finishing it and is reluctant to tell the truth when they see how mad he gets at the boys thinking one of them did it. Also I love you😘❤️
Pairing: Dad!Tom x female reader
Warnings: an argument & some bad words throughout
Word count: 2.7k
A/N: I love you too and I really hope you enjoy! Requests/prompts are always open so don’t hesitate to send some in 💛
(photo not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)
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“You can watch over Luca, right?” You asked as you grabbed your purse from the table by the door. You were going off to a business luncheon and you couldn’t bring yours and Tom’s two year old son Luca with you.
“Yes darling, I’m plenty capable of watching over our son. Actually, I’m planning on visiting my parents so they can watch over Luca while my brothers read the script.” He replied as he helped you put on your jacket.
“That’ll be nice, he loves to go visit grandma and play with Tessa.”
“He sure does.” He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into a kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too, but I gotta go.” You looked down at your watch, letting out a sigh. “Shit, I’m gonna be late. Just make sure you watch over Luca, I mean it.” You pointed your finger at him and closed the door behind you.
I can do this, he thought. He looked over to see Luca sitting on the floor with his pacifier in his mouth. He smiled at his son, walking over to scoop him up onto his arms, before kissing him on the cheek. Luca had inherited Tom’s curly brown hair but inherited your eyes, and Tom loved that.
“C’mon baby boy, let’s go see grandma.” He stated and his son buried his head into his chest.
A twenty minute drive later, Tom and Luca were parked outside of the Holland residence. He got Luca out of his car seat and proceeded to knock on the door. After a second, the door swung open to see his mum beaming at him.
“Honey, it’s so good to see you. And how’s my darling little angel doing?” Nikki cooed as Tom passed off Luca to her so she could hold him. He put his arms around her neck and giggled lightly.
“The boys are sitting in the office waiting to read your script, so I’ll watch over my precious grandson.” She tickled him lightly which caused him to giggle some more.
“Thank you mum, trust me I appreciate it.” He kissed her on the cheek and entered the house, immediately being tackled by Tessa.
“Tessa darling I’ve missed you!” He petted her behind the ears and rubbed her belly; her tail wagged happily as he gave her some love. After a minute he got back up and walked into the office, where Sam and Harry were awaiting his arrival.
“Hey guys.” He said as his brothers stood up to give him a hug.
“Where’s the little one?” Sam inquired.
“With mum, she’ll watch over him while we’re working.” Tom said as he pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Good, we don’t need any distractions. Now gimme that script, I’m dying to read it.” Harry snatched it from Tom’s hand and plopped back down into his chair.
Two long hours later, the boys were done reading it.
“Wow Tom, I never thought I would say this but you’re actually talented.” Harry spoke up and leaned back in his chair.
“He’s right, that was actually super good. That twist at the ending was pure genius.” Sam added with a chef’s kiss, and Tom laughed
“Although the spelling errors in this are astronomical. How the hell did you even make it through sixth form?” Harry remarked and was met with a swift punch to the arm.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his bicep and Tom held his finger up to his mouth to shush him. “Did you hear that?” He stated in a hushed tone. The boys looked at each other, their ears perking up as they heard a crying in the distance. The crying grew louder, and they looked up to see Nikki standing in the doorway with Luca in her arms.
“Darling, I think Luca misses you. He won’t stop crying so do you mind taking a break and tending to that right now?” Nikki asked as Tom walked closer to her before grabbing his son from her arms.
“Angel, what’s the matter? Why is my baby boy upset?” He cooed, gently bouncing him and holding his son tight.
“I’m sad.”
“Why are you sad, hm?” He asked lovingly.
“Cuddles.” He whispered and Tom knew exactly what he was referring to. Tom always devotes at least thirty minutes out of his day to cuddle with him, but he must’ve forgotten due to being tied up with the script.
“Let do that right now, alright?” He kissed the top of his head and Luca’s crying began to cease.
“You guys can make critiques on it, yeah? And please keep that safe, because I didn’t work that hard on it for it to be ruined.” He said while the boys nodded their heads.
“We’ll watch over it, don’t worry.” Sam said, and Harry added, “Now go spend some time with your son.”
“Thank you.” His son rubbed his eyes and Tom wiped the tears away, and walked into the living room so that he could cuddle with him.
Tom lie down on the couch and set Luca on his chest, rubbing light circles on his back to get him to fall asleep. He could hear his breathing become more relaxed, and after a few minutes Luca was sound asleep. Tom dozed off as well, and was woken by forty minutes later.
“Done!” Luca exclaimed energetically, wriggling himself out of his father’s arms. He climbed off the couch and toddled over to Tessa to pet her.
Tom crouched down, kissed Luca on the top of his head, and decided to take this opportunity to go back to his brothers to get some critiques for the script.
“Tom, I was going to go for a walk to get the post, would you want to come with?” Dom asked, jacket and keys in hand. The boys had spent about two hours marking up Tom’s script, and took to drinking tea to keep themselves awake.
“Um sure, let me go grab my jacket and make sure someone capable watches over Luca.” He got up, sauntering into the kitchen, where he saw Luca and Paddy both sharing a bowl of Cheerios.
“Can you watch over him? After mum, I trust you the most and I’m gonna go take a walk with dad.”
“Yeah sure.” Paddy replied flatly as he intently watched Luca slowly put Cheerios into his mouth.
Tom then poked his head into the office, and stated, “When you’re done, put the script back in my bag and lock the door so that nothing bad will happen to it, you got it?”
“Have some faith in us, big brother. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Sam waved, but Tom hesitantly smiled. “Okay, I’m trusting you both. Don’t make me regret that decision.”
“You won’t!” Harry hollered back. They waited until they heard the front door lock, and shared a glance.
“Fifa?” Harry asked and Sam nodded. “Hell yeah. I think the script will be fine here on the table, right?” Sam inquired. “Yeah, Tom worries too much. No wonder he has a few grey hairs.” He remarked as they closed the door to the office, leaving the script on the table with a cup of tea right next to it. They waltzed out of the office and waved at Paddy, who was in the kitchen.
“Hey would you want to play fifa with us? We cannot stand to read that thing anymore.”
“I would, but I have to watch over Luca.” He looked over at his nephew who looked curiously back at him.
“Just leave him with his Cheerios. Honestly Tom worries too much about his kid, he’ll be fine.” Harry remarked and Paddy agreed. “You’re right.”
Paddy stood up and pushed his chair in. He looked over and pointed at his nephew before saying, “Now you stay here, and don’t leave this chair.” He glanced while Luca stared at him curiously.
“Good boy.” The boys walked off and Luca was left by himself and his cereal. After a few minutes he finished, looking around to see that he was alone.
“Done.” He said as he began to crawl off the chair. He toddled over into the office where Tom’s backpack was, which was also where Tom had placed Luca’s snacks and toys. While looking for his stuffed monkey Mr. Bananas, he bumped into the table and the tea conveniently spilled all over the script.
“Uh oh.” He whispered as the tea dripped off the table and onto the wood floor. Fleeing the crime scene, Luca swiftly waddled away from the room, Mr. Bananas in hand, and went into the living room like nothing had ever happened.
Thirty minutes later, Tom skipped into the office and was surprised to see the room vacant. He was also surprised to see his script soaking wet, tea cup on its side as the tea dripped onto the hardwood floor.
“Those bastards.” He stormed out of the room, drenched script in hand while frantically searching the house for his little brothers. He stopped when he saw Sam and Harry sitting in the living room in front of the telly, headsets on with no cares in the world. He stood in front of the TV and unplugged the Xbox from the wall, while ignoring his brothers groans and remarks.
“Why the fuck would you leave a teacup right next to the script? And why didn’t you put the script somewhere safe like I told you to? It was supposed to be locked away in the office for a reason, and I know one of you fuckers must have done something.” He spat, holding the sopping wet script in his hands, before slamming it down on the table. “Do you know how hard I worked on that thing? Just for you to spill tea all over it like the twats you are, and not even own up to the fact that you did it?”
“What are you on about? We didn’t spill tea on your script.” Harry stated as he reached for a crisp from the bowl next to him.
“Alright, you’re playing dumb. Then can you tell me why there is earl grey tea all over the script?” Tom spat but the boys were speechless.
“Well, say something. Don’t make me look like an idiot standing here with a sopping wet script.”
“That’s never stopped you from looking like an idiot before.” Harry smirked, and Tom clenched his fist. His jaw was clenched, and his face was burning red.
“I swear, if you don’t own up to this I will literally murder you.” Tom said angrily which only caused his brothers to stifle a laugh.
“Fucking own up to it!” He yelled and his brothers sat quiet.
Luca was sitting on the hallway floor, around the corner of the living room. His lip quivered as his father raised his voice, feeling bad that his father was blaming his brothers for something they didn’t do.
“We definitely didn’t do that.” Harry munched on a crisp, passing the bowl to Sam so he could grab some as well. Just then Tom snatched the bowl from Sam’s hands and slammed it down on the coffee table.
“Fucking hell Tom, we didn’t do it. Why don’t you believe when we said it wasn’t us?” Sam retorted.
“Who else could it have been, hm? You were the last ones in there and you were supposed to lock the door after you left. Might I add you were also supposed to put the script in my bag like I explicitly asked.” He paced the room, covering his face with his hands. “And besides, why did you go off and play fifa when I specifically asked you to critique the damn script.”
“I don’t know, we got bored of reading it and we wanted to take a break. But why the hell would we ruin it?” Harry let out a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I don’t know, maybe you have a personal vendetta against me or something. Or, maybe because you’re jealous of my success, and you can’t stand to see me accomplish something that you could only dream of.”
The room instantly became eerily silent as the boys shared a glance. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut through it, and the hostility loomed over everyone. The boys snarled at the same time, and Sam flipped off Tom.
“Fuck you.” Harry spat at him, and Tom’s face became redder.
“No, fuck you.” He pointed at them, and stormed out of the room. He rounded the corner too quickly and nearly tripped over his son who was beginning to cry.
“Shit.” He whispered and paused for a second at his choice of word. “I’m sorry angel, I didn’t see you sitting there. Don’t worry about what daddy said, I’m not mad at you at all.” He said in a soft tone, but Luca began to cry.
“Daddy, I-” he sobbed. Tom instantly crouched down right next to his son and scooped him into a big hug.
“What’s wrong now?” He asked, his tone sounding more harsh than intended.
“I d-did it daddy, I-I’m sorry. P-please don’t get a-angey.” He blubbered and Tom’s heart sank.
“You did it?” He asked, and Luca nodded. “D-didn’t mean t-to.” He sobbed, which made Tom instantly feel guilty for blaming his brothers.
“Why did you do it?” He tilted his head to the side, scanning his son’s face as he waited for the answer.
“B-bananas.”
“Oh.” The pieces clicked in his mind as he realised that Luca would go into his bag to look for Mr. Bananas, since he loved to play with him after their cuddle sessions. “I b-bumped into the table and it s-spilled.”
Tom let out a long sigh, tilting his head backwards as he let out a small groan. He looked over at his son who was rubbing his eyes, letting out small cries as the tears streamed down his face. He picked Luca up, and he instantly buried his head into the crook of Tom’s neck. “Daddy’s not mad darling, I’m sorry. It can be fixed for sure, I promise.” He continued to hold his sobbing son as a tear fell down his own cheek. “Please don’t cry anymore bub, it’s okay.” He felt his son’s breathing calm down, his little sobs turning into hiccups.
“Do you have the clicks now?” He asked, while his son buried his face into his chest.
He picked Luca up and made his way back into the living room, pausing before beginning to apologise profusely.
“Guys I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have blamed you. I know you said you didn’t do it and I should have trusted you. I didn’t realise Luca went in there to get his toy, and he must’ve knocked into the table, and that was how the tea got all over it.”
“No, it’s our fault, we should’ve locked the door like you said to. We just thought you were being overprotective.” Sam stated and Harry added, “We didn’t anticipate anything bad happening to it, but we should’ve been more careful, especially with a toddler running around.”
“It could’ve been worse I guess, at least no one was harmed, right darling?” He looked down at his son, who clutched his shirt with his tiny hands.
“But you’re right, I was being far too overprotective with it. Luckily I had an extra copy of it that I sent over to Robert to read, so I can ask him to just send it back when he’s finished.” He lightly adjusted his son to rest on his hip, and looked apologetically at his brothers. “I didn’t mean what I said just now, I was just furious at how much work went into it.”
He looked down at the floor, and whispered, “Do you forgive me?”
“It’s understandable why you would be upset, I swear it won’t happen again. But of course, apology accepted.” They ran over and everyone put their arms around him in a large embrace. Tom felt his son squirming so he backed away from the hug.
“I love you all so much, you know that, right?” He asked while his brothers all nodded.
“We love you too, you twat.”
——
Mes anges (taglist): @starkissedholland​ @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @taciturnspidey​
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thisbluespirit · 3 years
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Fic Writer Tag Game
I was tagged to do this by @allegoriesinmediasres but it had already gone round Dreamwidth this last week, so I did it there.  I’ll try and c+p it over here, too!
1) How many works do you have on AO3? 620 (but I've been writing a lot of short things since around 2006-7, and there might even still be a couple of the 1994-98 fic from the newsgroups up). 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,476,147 (but this does include about 300,000 words of origfic for RaTs and rainbowfic that are collected into three works, so it doesn't affect the works no too much, but it does affect the wordcount.) 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Too many to list here!  A lot.  *nods* 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? People, it's still Miss Marple.  Maybe one day it won't be Miss Marple, but today is not that day. (ETA: whenever i do my top AO3 fic on these memes, it’s disproportionately Miss Marple.  I am bemused.) Miss Marple: The Spirit of St Mary Mead So We Meet at Last Not Miss Marple: it's the rain that will strengthen your soul (SW Prequels) Five Times the Doctor Got in the Way of Captain Janeway (and One Time They Got Along Just Fine) (DW/ST) By the Book (Origfic) (Oh, wow, By the Book keeps moving up.  It must get recced sometimes, somewhere, mustn't it?  0_o ♥) 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes.  Fanfic is a lot my way of being social, which is why I don't get along with the new push-button web much.  Like, kudos is fine, ok, but I just wanted to talk to people, and via fic always seems to be one of the nicest ways to do it. 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oh, I don't know. I like being bleak sometimes when I feel like it.  It might be the EatD one with the two Generals, but honestly there were a few in my mid-illness old bleak telly watching years, and the Level 7 one or the one from Children of the Damned might be even more so?  Or some S&S stuff, too?  I mean, I wrote S&S plane crash fic and weird drabbles.  (I blame my fandoms!  It's not my fault!  *innocent*) Also I keep doing Clara splinter fic, so I keep killing Clara and it's always sadder than I expect when I get there.  You'd think I'd learn by now, or just not kill this splinter, but, nooo, hey, how about MORE Clara splinter death, self?  /o\ Oh, no, wait: it's probably Spooks!  Spooks is also bleak and how about my tiny ficlet of death, Litany of the Fallen? Oh, actually, if I listen to people who aren't me, it's that B7 Avon/Servalan one, which I was always a bit: BUT I WROTE ONE WHERE THEY WON about it and everyone else was all THIS IS THE WORST in the comments.  Sorry? The Quality of Mercy (Is Most Definitely Strained)  (I still think the ending of Compendium is more angsty!  It has double death!) (Ok, it's me.  I like being bleak and angsty when I'm doing it.  I'm less sure when someone else is doing it at me, of course. ;-p) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I honestly don't know.  I'm usually kind of gen and happy and sometimes even humorous, and keep canon's tone, and DW is fairly light most of the time. I tried searching on Happy, but I have never tagged anything as happy.  But probably it is an AAL! thing, because AAL! is happiness in b&w TV form basically.  Maybe of Of Human Bondage (or Five Times Adam and His Friends Found Themselves All Tied Up)?  But I like all the AAL! ones I wrote for Yuletide, because they were the ones where I tried to be closest to an episode, and that makes them the most fun to re-read. 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have a crossover in my top 5, so yes.  I'm a DW fan; crossovers are just far too obvious a temptation when you've got a TARDIS.  What DW fic writer hasn't managed at least one once somewhere?  And I might have, um, written a lot of them.  (AO3 says 126). I did once, way back in newsnet times, when we were having a debate over what you could and couldn't cross DW over with (and I was on Team You Can Cross It With Anything You Cowards), write a DW/Rainbow drabble.  But I don't think I put that on AO3.  I think it might be on Teaspoon.   In AO3 works, I think by far the silliest is the Baldrick/Steed one, which AstroGirl said I couldn't write.  (It was an Unconventional Courtship summary, not that they randomly dared me to write Baldrick/Steed.  I mean, some of my flist totally would have done if they'd thought of it, but not in this case.) 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not really.  I've had some weird comments, but the nearest I've come to hate was one of the comments that time I tried to write Swan Queen fic and it wasn't happy enough for people.  (I wrote a happy one after, but the ifrst one was set quite early, Regina was still kind of evil!) 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Alas, no.  Although, ish, if we count my experimental elemental shipping phase, which included The Cornfield (Silver/Steel/(Sapphire)), which is the only time anyone called any of my fic sexy.  I would totally have that comment made into a medal or something.   11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Other than the random scraping things that have gone round over the years, no. 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes!  Several people have been kind enough to do this, usually into Russian, and usually (but not always!) Miss Marple. 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, and no - in adwc days we all co-authored round robins, which were a blast and highly frustrating.  I think it'd be fun, but barring the odd bit of drabble tennis with various flisters back in the day, it's not really something that's worked out.  (I'm thinking, I could have all the ideas, they could do all the writing, I could criticise?? XD) 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? My Relationships count is very misleading here, because I think it actually is (including in terms of things written for it), Sapphire/Silver/Steel, but it's a weird thing, so sometimes I tag it platonically, and sometimes I don't necessarily tag it at all for that reason, and also I think it puts people off unnecessarily.  (But it's a Lie when I don't tag it.  All my Sapphire & Silver & Steel is inherently OT3 even if no one else can see it.) 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? None.  I have unposted WIPs, but I do hope to finish those, and the only posted WIP is a very old one only on Teaspoon that was begun before I was ill and I can't even really say at this point that I would want to finish it. 16) What are your writing strengths? Character/dialogue, I think?  I am actually not that bad at plot, but currently I lack the stamina for long things. I like to think I can be quite funny when I'm in the mood. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, action.  Argh.  Yes, let's just talk some more, okay? 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I was going to say I would never, but actually I did!  I wrote Y Gwyll | Hinterland fic, and it wouldn't be right not to have some Welsh in that.  However, while I may be a 1/4 Welsh and know some Welsh words, I don't actually speak it, so I had to turn to Llywela who was very kind and translated the sentences I needed.  (I added the English translation in the footnote.)  This was the fic, but basically language is important in canon (ironically maybe even more so in the Eng-lang version I watched than the original Welsh), and so it was also important in the fic. So, probably if it was a canon where it was required, then I would do what I could to get help to get it right?  The good thing about the internet is that you can usually find someone, although usefully for me, I already knew someone. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Doctor Who! 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to wimp out on this along with everyone else.  Although... if any of you have a fave fic of mine, that would be very cool to hear!  (But I don't expect anyone to.) Sometimes I'm pleased enough with the latest to feel it's that, but that's not always the case, and it isn't currently.  (No, offence, Latest Works!  I like you, it just only happens once in a while, usually when I've managed something I've wanted to do for years.)
I won’t tag anyone, because I know lots of people also did this on Dreamwidth, but it’s always VERY cool to see people’s answers to these things and memes are for stealing.
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purplekiwis · 4 years
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“From the Dining Table” - Chapter I
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Hello everyone, I’ve been enjoying reading your fics a lot, especially now with the whole quarentine thing, they never fail to bring me joy. I thought it would be fun to start writing some myself and that’s why I created this blog. I haven’t written a fic in over 10 years ( I promise I’m not that old, I was just a very imaginative child.) Anyway, I wrote this one based of a dream I had and then I realized it reminded me a lot of Harry’s song, so I just kept on going with the theme. This is a pretty long one, it’s going to be 3 Chapters. Today I’m gonna post the first one, I hope you (whoever you are that’s reading this) enjoy it and I would be super happy to get any feedback from you.❤️
You can read Chapter II here You can read Chapter III here Word Count: 8k Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Sexual References
Summary: Friends to Lovers; Y/N is a graphic designer working at a small studio in London. She lives a pretty ordinary life, considering she also happens to be friends with an internationally known musician. Which is fine... Until she finds herself having to face the feelings she developed for her friend, who's the last person she expected to fall in love with.
Chapter I - The House Party
Today was just another typical Saturday for you. You had just got out of the shower and dressed in your “sleeping clothes” - an old t-Shirt and a pair of incredibly worn out leggings, and cooked something quick for dinner, since all the plans you had for the evening, and for the rest of the weekend were to lay around the house watching movies from your watch-list and trying to keep up with the episodes of your favorite series you had missed out during the week.              
However, as you were browsing through your computer, trying to figure out what Riverdale episode you hadn’t watched yet, your phone vibrated on the bedside table. You let your head fall in your hands with a weary expression, fearing that it might be one of your clients asking for changes in the work you had just delivered 2 hours ago.     You tried your hardest to ignore it, for you had already decided that you were going to save the rest of the afternoon for taking care of yourself... which was a great accomplishment since you gradually and accidentally had become a bit of a workaholic.  
It wasn’t something you were proud of... but you were a proper adult now and that’s just how adultwood is. Suddenly all your friends were busy with their families (can’t relate), their partners (no, can’t relate either) and their jobs (yes, you had one of those now) and you didn’t have much else to keep you entertained, so at least you tried to do something productive with your time.            
Okay, maybe it was possible that you were focusing on work to try not to think about how lonely you actually felt... Especially when you found yourself rubbing your own aching back after spending the whole afternoon sitting at your desk immersed in your work. Secretly wishing somebody else was there with you besides the faces painted in the unfinished artworks laying around your flat... that were yet to be amazing pieces of art one day, according to you.
The only problem was that you couldn’t manage to get yourself to actually finish them, or even to work on them for a couple of hours. Why? You didn’t really know.  
All you knew was that there was no motivaton within you to focus on the things you had once really enjoyed doing. Maybe you were too tired to have a hobby, maybe you were already over those artworks, perhaps you didn’t even like painting anymore...          
The only thing that you knew for sure of was that you had became exactly who you said you would never: A young adult working for a small company with barely any social life, let alone a stable relationship, sharing a tiny apartment with her cat and the ghosts of her past dreams and aspirations.      So I guess by now it’s safe to say that you were definitely focusing on your work to forget about how boring your life had become in the last few months...      Even thought you really didn’t want to look at your phone, your curiosity got a hold of you and you checked it… Only to find a text from your friend Harry. Seeing his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat, as you rolled around in bed so that you could take a better look at it. It had been a while since you spoke to Harry... mostly because he had been busy, and you had been trying to avoid bothering him. Knowing damn well he would probably much rather spend his free time doing something better with his free time, since he was always busy as a bee, jumping between countries and cities whilst working on several projects simultaneously.      
You considered Harry a close friend of yours... even if you didn’t talk all the time and even ghosted each other for months on occasion, until one of you broke the silence with a text or a phone call. This time, it was Harry that texted you first...      
HS: What are you up to?            
You: I was just about to watch Riverdale...          
H.S:  What is that?   
You couldn’t help but to let out a little smile. Sometimes he could still surprise you with how alienated he could be from mundane stuff. You didn’t hold it against him, you knew he had a preference for oldies when it came to the movies and music he actually payed attention to.          
You decided not to bug him about it, since you were far more interested in figuring out why he was randomly texting you at 9PM on a Saturday.          
You : It’s just a gross teen show. What about you?          
H.S: Aren’t you a bit too old for teen shows? I’m home. Been here for a couple of days, actually.
You felt a little hurt knowing that he had been home for a while and was only letting you know now, since you were usually one of the first people he wanted to see after spending long periods of time away, even if it was just to come watch the telly and catch up over bags of take-away food. You shook off the uneasy feeling. After all it wasn’t like he owed you his free time... For all you knew, he could’ve been catching up with his other friends or even have someone far more entertaining over his house.  
You : Aren’t you a bit too young to be such a grandpa?
H.S : Good news is that grandpa might actually have better plans for your night.            
You felt your cheeks warm as a fuzzy feeling started in your stomach. You noticed you had been smiling at your phone whilst thinking of what his plans could be, and when you finally got back to reality your cat was blankely staring at you, making you feel aware of how stupid you must have been looking. “What? You know it’s not like that!” You exclaimed to your cat, getting a little embarassed by your own mushy thoughts.            
Before you could answer his text he sent you another one.        
H.S: Would you like to accompany me to this thing i have?        You sat straight in your bed, but almost immidiately got up to check yourself in the mirror. Yikes, you thought. There’s no way i’m going anywhere with a face like this... In the deepest, darkest part of your brain, you added: Especially not with him.             You: What thing?
H.S: It’s just a boring house party. Please come!!! I need someone to talk to.   
You: If you want to convince me, maybe you should consider rethinking your use of adjectives. I’m sure you do... just like all the other parties, right? 🙄         
H.S: Sorry, I meant AMAZING party!!! 😊  Also, it’s not my fault everyone likes to talk to me.     You : It is. You’re too nice to them.                     
H.S: That’s why i need you to scare them away with your moody face! Are you coming? I already asked Claire to save you seat in the car.          
You looked at yourself in the mirror, kinda wishing you had known earlier because you really looked and felt too tired (and ugly, might you add) to get out of the house. Especially to go to a party where you probably knew like, 3 people in real life besides Harry. Besides, you already knew that you would feel a bit out of place there...   Because no matter how hard Harry and his friends tried to make you feel included, there was always this feeling you felt... Like everyone else was judging every single thing you did. The clothes you were wearing, the way you acted with your friends, how much booze you drinked, how many crab cakes you ate, and even how much you talked, or didn’t talk... Going to these parties had undoubtedly showed you how cold and indifferent people could be about other people’s complete existence as soon as they realized they didn’t come from the entertainment industry...           Harry had tried to explain to you that they didn’t flat out dislike you... It was just that they liked to test the waters before jumping into a friendship with someone from outside the industry, since most of them had already been through bad experiences when it came to that topic.
Y/N had never really ate that one up, but she decided it wasn’t worth the fuss of sharing her opinion out loud. She still remebered the first event she attended to with Harry, and how he and his friends had tried to give her advise on what she should and shouldn’t do... Something she hadn’t taken very well at the time, because it wasn’t like she didn’t know how to behave herself at a party just for being considered an “outsider”. She had been to lots of parties. Smaller ones, yes. With cheaper beverage options and far unhealthier selections of finger foods she could nibble guiltlessly on, but they were still parties nonetheless...          
Luckily for you, people were starting to get used to your occasional presence at their informal house events, and you managed to get along with the majority of Harry’s mates as well, what made you feel a little more confortable... However you still always got a bit nervous before going, especially when you hadn’t seen everyone in a while, which was the case that time around...
You : I feel like i could fall asleep at any given moment, so i think i’ll have to pass this one out 😔 but maybe tomorrow we could do something?      
He took a while to reply, making you wonder if he got upset at you for not wanting to go, or if he was already asking another one of his friends if they would like to go in your place... You didn’t know what option you liked the best.    Eventually, you got tired of holding your phone so you put it down, a little too harshly, what made your cat tremble with the noise. “Sorry Tilly.” You whispered, as your pet got up and curled up in your lap, while you petted her gently behind her ears. “Maybe it’s better this way… right?” You asked, mostly to yourself.         
Suddently you heard your phone ringing. Harry was calling you. You got up in a jump and grabbed the phone, what led to an unpleasant scratch from Tilly in your thigh. Before picking up, you stared at the screen for a few seconds, just so he didn’t think you were impatiently waiting for his reply. Yes, you were petty like that sometimes.              
“Hey!”               
“Hello loser!” The raspyness of his voice caught you by surprise, making you shiver. You’d almost forgot how good it sounded.      
“No one uses that word anymore.”      
“Who cares?” “Good point. Hm, listen… I hope you’re not mad at me for not going...”       “What? You really thought I was gonna give up on you that easily?”     “Oh, stop it! I’m not going! Besides, even if I wanted to go, what would I wear? I literally have like ze-” You stopped your rambling, realizing he was singing something to you over the phone, you didn’t recognize it at first, but then you realized where it was from.     
“You're a mean one Mr. Grinch.               You really are a heeeel…               You're as cuddly as a cactus!       You're as charming as an eel! Mr. Griiiinch… You're a bad banana with a… Greasy black peeeeel!”      
It was a song from the last movie you had seen together when he had came home for the holidays. How The Grinch Stole Christmas. He was singing it to mock you by your choice of words, that reminded him of a particular scene of the movie. The way he was messing up the song with his gibberish made you laugh. Eventually both your laughs and his singing faded, leaving you with a huge smile on your face. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” You asked.           
“Well, thank you. Now... As a way of thanking me for my… astonishing performace, you must come party with us.”        
“You’ve got some nerve coming at me with that crap after you’ve abandoned me for... how long was it again? two months?”
“Hey... I’m trying to redeem myself here!”             “Good! As you should.”            
“Is that a yes? Please...? You’re not going to say no to me, are you?”   
“It’s a maybe... a highy dependant on me finding something to wear type of maybe. First of all, is it like…fancy?”      
“Hmm, not really… I think!? You never really know with these parties.”              
“Trust me, I’m aware.” There was a brief silent pause on Harry’s side of the phone, as you as you rummaged through your clothes. “What are you going to wear anyway?”  
“Don’t know yet. Probably like, some pants… boots… and a shirt?”         Harry’s vague description didn't help whatsoever, but you were far too busy trying to disenchant a decent outfit to make light of his words. “Okay!” There was a lot of shuffling from your side, making his eyebrows furrow on the other side the line, despite your lack of knowledge. “I think I may have just found my nice pants, but I don’t know if I have a nice blouse that goes with them... or one that is fitted for the occasion. Why am I so boring with my clothes? I need to invest in a better wardrobe asap…” “You can always come by mine and borrow a shirt… Ya know, If you don’t want to stand out too much.”
“Not standing out by wearing your clothes? Now that’s funny!”               “I’m sure you’ll find something wearable...”      
“Are you serious? You would let me borrow your clothes?”        
“Sure. If you want to.”  
“I don’t know… I’m scared I’ll rip them or something.”                       
“I mean, I like my clothes... but it’s not like I would kill you or myself if something bad happened to them.” “You’re so humble and reasonable Mr. Styles… How did you stay like that?” You could hear him briefelly laugh at your provocation. “I’m serious! besides, I secretly always want to know how my clothes fit on different people.”
“I’m not trying to spoil it for you but probably not that good... Mostly because I’m female shaped so they won’t fit me properly… Also, I’m not sure if you’re aware but you have this gift-”     “Oh, shut up! You can pull anything off.” He cut you off before you could either compliment him or put yourself down. “As long as you love it.” “We’ll see about that.” You challenged, noticeably way less hopeful than he was. “I’ll see you in… an hour and half? Is that a good time?”             
“Do you want me to ask someone to pick you up?”               “I’m good, thank you...” You answered, wasting little time mulling over your friend’s proposal. “But I would happily accept a parking spot in your garage…” You added suggestively, knowing he wouldn’t say no. “Sure! Anything for you.”           “Thank you!”   “You’re very welcome.”               “Okay, well... I better go and get ready now or I’m going to show up late.”   “Alright, I need to go get ready as well. See you soon. Drive safe!”           “Always do.” It took you a bit more than na hour to get ready, what meant you were already running a little late, since Harry’s house was more than half an hour drive away.  
You were wearing one of your favorite “going out” pants, they were black, high-waisted, carrot fitted and overwhelmingly confortable. You went for other one of your favorite pieces - a yellow silk blouse, just in case you ended up not fitting properly in any of Harry’s shirts.
You paired your outfit with oval style ankle boots you’d just recently acquired. I already know I’m going to regret this decision, you thought whilst putting them on.            
You had also decided to change into a matching set of lingerie just because you never know what can happen, right? and also partially because you knew you’d be changing at Harry’s, and god forbid he actually saw anything but if he did, at least it wouldn’t be your granny underwear. You put on a neutral makeup look, throwing a couple of lipsticks into your purse, just so you could decide which one to wear depending on the color of the shirt.             Finally, you put on a bit of perfume and grabbed your jacket, taking a final look in the mirror, staring at yourself from different angles. “I guess that’s about as good as it’s gonna get.” You mumbled to your reflection.           
Before leaving the house, you kissed and petted your cat goodbye, however she didn’t respond to your affection since she was already asleep on top of the clothes you had just carelessly thrown on top of the bed.      
You got in your car and drove off, thirty four minutes later you were turning into Harry’s street and stopping the car in front of the condominium’s gate.You took your phone out of your purse and rang him, he picked up almost immediately.
“You’re here?” “Yeah, I’m already at the gate.”               “Okay, let me open it for you and I’ll be down in a second.”         “Okay, thank you.” The call dropped and the large metal gate started to move, you slowly drove your way into the condo, trying to remember where the entrance to his garage was.          
You didn’t have to think too hard, because a few seconds later one of the garage doors started to open and you could see a pair of impecable black leather boots that merged with the bottom of burgundy flares. Yup, no need for more searching, You thought.          
You stopped the car, waiting for the gate to fully open for what seemed like an eternity, but it gave you time to fully appreciate the man that was slowly revealing himself in front of you.
You could start to see his top half now, he was wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, uncovering his tattooed arms. The top buttons were undone, exposing the cross necklace he always wore, he was also wearing another necklace you hadn’t seen before, his hands were hidden in his pockets, but you already knew that they would be adorned with multiple rings of all shapes and sizes. What a show off, was the tought that came to mind once his whole outfit was revealed, but you had to admit that you wouldn’t have him any other way...   
Finally his head showed up, and he was wearing a big smile on his face.
“Hey you! Better hurry up before this thing closes on you.” You were so lost in his smile that you accidentally let your car die, but you were quick to start it again and as he walked aside you pulled into the garage.           
When you finished parking, you got out of the car, being immediately greeted by Harry’s arms that wrapped you in a tight hug. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes to fully enjoy the moment. He smelled like his characteristic cologne, but since your head was pressed against his shoulder, you could also smell the fabric softner on his shirt and his deodorant.  
“You smell nice.” You mumbled under your breath.   “So do you.” He replied swiftly, resting his chin on the top of your head.          He walked you to the elevator and you went up to his apartment. After many minutes of catching up in the living room he led you to his bedroom, where his closet was. “It’s a bit messy in here, I’ve been meaning to organize it, but I haven’t really had the time.” The boy said before opening its door.
You tried not to look mesmerized by the amount of clothing in front of you, because you knew that one of the things Harry hated the most was when people perceived him as shallow or vain. Luckily, most people could tell straight away that his love for fashion had a greater meaning for him than to just look nice... And even when they didn’t, it only took them about seconds of conversation with him to realize how much of a ducky and kind person he truly was. Also, fairly recently he had been getting a lot of praise for his bold fashion choices, what led to a bit of over enthusiasm from his main stylists’s part and himself when it came to investing in it.  
“I promise I actually wear most of these...” He justified himself, noticing the enthralled expression you genuinely believed you were managing to disguise.
“Oh, don’t mind me!” You giggled. “I’m just slightly overwhelmed by the number of choices before me.”         “Well, take all the time you need.” Harry smiled, sitting over the edge of his bed and unlocking his phone to check the time. It was already past midnight.  As you finally gained courage to start going through his clothes, he let his back fall on the bedspread with a sigh and stared at the ceiling, and that’s when you decided you couldn’t possibly not try to mess with him a little bit. “Stupid… Ugly… Out of date…” (Reference (01:20-01:24)              
“Hey! Stop it, will you?!” He sat up again, supporting his upper body with his elbows that rested firmly on his lap. “Have you found my dress yet?” 
You peeked through the open closet to with a curious expression on your face. “No… Where is it?” you asked, disappearing behind the door and enthusiastically searching his closet for the item, suddently grabbing something that kinda looked like a dress, yet kinda looked like a curtain.           “Is this it?” You asked, stepping out of the closet, holding the hanger in front of you.               
“It’s not a dress, it’s a kilt... Sicko!”  (Reference (01:13-01:18)          
“Really? You had that one coming for a long time didn’t you?” You disdainfully smiled, shaking your head in disapproval. You could tell from his little smirk that he was proud of successfully tricking you into his joke. “Yeah, I was hoping you would find it and ask about it, but you didn’t so I had to find a way to deliver the line anyway.”            
“Okay, but for real why do you have a wedding dress in your closet?” You turned the hanger to see the strange garment from the front.            
“Cause I’m cool like that.”        
“You know what? It’s actually not as ugly as it seemed at first sight...”    
“Well, I would hope so ‘cause it was bloody expensive.” At the sound of his words you were quick to carefully hang it back in it’s place, gently rubbing the fabric to avoid any crinkles.
You kept looking through his clothes and ended up finding a almost sheer shirt that you liked. It was rusty orange with a psychadelic flower pattern that looked quite unique. Taking advantage of the fact that Harry was laying down and distracted on his phone and freed yourself of your blouse in a swift motion, trying on his shirt on as fast as you could. It fitted you quite nicely to your surprise.               “So, have you found anything you like yet?” Your friend asked, with his eyes still stuck on his phone.
“Actually yes, but I could use your help… How would you style this?”  He sat up again and focused his attention on you. “How come you end up finding the one shirt I don’t actually remember owning?” 
He admired you from the bed, letting is head fall to the side a bit, you could feel his eyes stuck on your figure, what made you feel a bit unconfortable and insecure about your body. His expression changed as he got up and walked towards you, making a little circle around you and finally stopping right in front of you. “May I?” He asked, reaching for the shirt.        
“Yeah, go ahead.” You lifted your arms slightly so they wouldn’t get on his way. Carefully, he started adjusting the shirt, slipping it inside your pants and gently pulling it out, until it fell down in a natural way.      
You could feel the warmth of his hands on your skin through the fabric, what caused your breathing to get a little heavy and out of your throat came a peculiar husky sound. Luckily, he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even acknowledged it.    
Feeling a bit flustered due to his proximity, you decided to break the silence.     “You look so different now that you cut your hair…”      
“Well, isn’t that kind of the point of changing your hair? Why are you complaining? Do you not find me cute anymore?”  “Who lied to you and told you I ever thought you were cute?” Harry looked up at you with disdainful expression once his green eyes met yours. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer by the second. “Well you’re wrong because I am, in fact, very attractive.” He looked down again and undid one of the buttons of the shirt, what left a bit of the black lace of your bra showing. “What are you doing?” You asked in a startled tone. “Just trust me.”               “Umm… Fine, I guess.” You shrugged as he stepped back to admire his work. His focused expression broke into a proud smile as he moved to the side, uncovering the mirror just so you could see yourself. You looked hot, there’s no other way to put it. The color of the shirt complimented your skin tone beautifully, as well as the golden necklace that fell over your chest in a sensual way, capturing attention to your stripped neckline. “You look cuter than me, I can't have that... Come on, we’re switching. Take it off, now.”  Your handsome friend complained in a frisky tone, grabbing at the hem of his shirt as if he was about to pull it off. “I could never…” You challenged, feeling quite shy after his compliment. “Well, apparently you can.” “You look amazing though...” You complimented back. “Love the pants.” “Really? I think they make my ass look weird sometimes.” The boy confessed, turning around so you could check his bottoms. “I think your ass’s great.” You kind of regretted the conviction you uttered that sentence with. “I mean… in those pants.”
Harry sighed playfully. “I was enjoying the compliment, why did you have to ruin it?” 
“Fine, you can take the compliment then.” You granted easily. “Shouldn’t we get going? I’m sure it’s pretty late already…” “Ready?”           “Yes, let me just…” You ran to your purse, picking one of the lipsticks you had brought with you, applying it in front of the mirror while the charming man shoved his essential belongings into the pockets of his matching blazer and put it on, completing the look.       You noticed he was observing you with curiosity as you tinted your lips in a dark shade of brick orange. “Let’s go missy.” The boy rushed as you locked eyes with him through the mirror.   **
Even though you offered to drive to Claire’s house, he insisted on taking his car because he hadn’t driven in a while and wanted to before he got “rusty”.  As he was driving, you inquired him about who was hosting the party you were going to, since all he’d told you was that you were meeting your friends at Clare’s house and from there you would share a car, so that the whole group would get there together.          
To your surprise, when faced with your question he got quiet and you noticed his expression changing, he briefely took his eyes off the road to look at you and you could practically see the guilt in this face. “What is it?” You asked, wondering what he could be acting so weird about.  
“Hum yeah, about that…” He began to stammer, keeping his eyes stuck to the road.          
“Just tell me it’s not what I think it is.”    “Before you say anything, I know you’ll probably want to kill me right now…”   “Harry!”         “I knew you wouldn’t have come if I told you... It’s going to be fun, I promise! She’s not as bad as you think she is.”         “No Harry!” You fretted. “You know what? Just stop the car, I want to go home.”         
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”  
“I’m not kidding Harry.”               “I’m not dropping you off in the middle of the fucking freeway.”              
“Yes you are!” “No, I’m not.”   He kept driving and you let your body slip through the seat, crossing your arms in silence, resenting him for almost five minutes while he tried to convince you of how Alexa was way nicer than you thought and that she wasn’t really a bitch, it was just that her sense of humor could be a little off-putting sometimes. The way he was defending her made you feel even angrier, even though you weren’t really listening.               
In your head all you could think about was all the times you had the unpleasant surprise of bumping into Alexa. She was such a bitch! Always finding a way to put you down and make you feel embarassed. She even came up with a stupid nickname for you at Harry’s birthday party that she always made sure to use, even though she must’ve known you hated it.       “Just so you know, when we get to Claire’s I’m getting a cab and going home.” 
“Fine.” He jerked his shoulders dismissively. “If you want to miss out on a great time with our friends, it’s up to you.”             “When she’s there it’s never really a good time for me so I guess I’m good.”       “Come on…” Harry huffed, shifting his gaze off to road for a moment to check on his muddled friend. “Everyone was so excited to see you...”             You were mad that he lied to you, but you were madder that you had gotten all dressed up and now you weren’t going. You also missed your mutual friends and hanging out with them. You kept weighting the pros and the cons throughout the rest of the drive, and when you got to Claire’s house, after a little convincing from the group, you decided you were not going to let the fact that it was Alexa’s party ruin the night for you.        
You were still mad at Harry though. And having to go on another car trip with him, feeling his body pressing up against yours whenever there was a turnabout, wasn’t making it easy for you to keep your cool.              
As you finally got to Alexa’s house you could tell the house was packed by the number of cars parked outside, making you feel relieved you had a driver, because if you had to find a place to park it would’ve been a nightmare.        
There was a group of people lining up, and as you got closer you noticed two men by the door checking for the guests names on a list. You started to get worried that your friends might have omitted to Alexa that you were going, since you were almost certain that your presence wouldn’t please her any better than it did to you. You eyed their faces, looking for any sign of concern, however they seemed calm.
As you walked the line, you started to get more and more nervous, ending up momentarily swallowing your pride and pulling at Harry’s sleeve, in hopes of getting his attention without the rest of the group noticing. “Does Alexa know I’m coming to her party?” You asked as quietly as you could.    
“Of course she does! I told her myself.”
“What did she say?”    
He didn’t get to answer your question because he was approached by the doorkeeper, that asked him for his name. Harry politely greeted him before answering his question and being such a gentleman, he provided the names of the other members of the group.
The doorkeeper checked the names on the list and to your surprise your name was actually there. He allowed the group to get inside. All of you murmuring a brief “thank you” as you walked past the big guy.              
The door led to a giant lounge style living room, that seemed to be where the focus of the party was. To your right, there were three big windows, each with it’s own balcony, where small groups of people gathered to enjoy a smoke and the beautiful view of the city. In the middle of the room there was an open dance space, demarked by an enormous persian carpet, that was still pretty empty despite the fact the DJ was already playing.        
Behind the dance area there were two long tables, practically stuffed with different types of alcoholic beverages. It had to be one of the most diverse open bars you had ever seen at a house party.          From the ceiling fell party ribbons and lights, and the walls were adorned with baloons and paper decorations. You tried to decipher the color of the objects around you, but it was almost impossible due to the color changing lights that provided an hallucinogenic athmosphere to the space.
You looked around, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. As your eyes scanned the place, they found couple of familiar faces, but they froze at a well-known face in the kitchen.        
There was Alexa… She was sitting over the counter, scrolling on her phone. Her glossy lips rested on the edge of the paper cup she was holding. The light from the screen illuminated her face, making her glittery eyeshadow pop behind the thick lashes that she was wearing. She was dressed in a two-toned metallic mini dress and knee-high platform boots. You could tell from her expression that she was distressed about something. Her stillness gave you the opportunity to study her face. Her features were quite angelical, something you had never noticed before.
The sound of something scattering on the kitchen floor woke her up from her daydream as she turned around to curse at whoever opened the kitchen cabinet. Yup, there’s the bitch, You mused to yourself.            
She jumped off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, making her way around the groups of people that were chattering by the door. She walked around the living room, trying to greet the people she hadn’t seen yet.
Your eyes briefly met hers before she approached your friends. They went for a group hug, in which you didn’t participate. Instead, you awkwardly stared at them while they hugged and chatted. Harry looked back at you, encouraging you to join them with an eye motion, you let out a sigh and moved closer to the group, what caught Alexa’s attention. “Hi Nutmeg! I haven’t seen you in a hot minute…” She greeted you by kissing the air next to your cheek, before looking you up and down. “I see you’ve upgraded your closet... It was about time.” The beautiful girl remarked, focusing her attention on the shirt you were wearing.        
You found yourself side-eyeing Harry, trying your hardest to ignore her taunting words. “I swear I’ve seen that somewhere... what brand is it?” Her question startled you. Prompting your head to tilt towards Harry, realizing he had mirrored the gesture to stare at you. You stood there staring at each other, both of you wishing you could read his mind. “Is there something I’m missing?” Alexa questioned, suspicious of your odd behaviour.          
“No, not at all!” Harry was quick to intervene. “I’m gonna go for a drink, anyone wants to join me?” He suggested, clearly attempting to brush off the topic.        
“I’ll go get the drinks.” You volunteered, taking the chance to escape and ditch Alexa’s question.
“Will you get me some jack and coke?” The girl requested, handing you her freshly empty cup. “Thanks.” She added when you grabbed it from her hand. It was probably the only time you actually felt pleased to fix Alexa a drink. “Harry, what do you want?” You called his attention back to you, upon realizing he was already engaged into conversation with someone you didn’t know.            
“Double Tequila, please.” You raised your brows at his choice of beverage. Already knowing that when he started the night with Tequila he would, most likely, end up drunk out of his mind. But you didn’t bother to try to coarce him into switching to something else. “Do you need an extra hand?” He offered out of politeness.        
“It’s fine, I’m sure I can handle it.” You spat as you left, not wanting to interrupt his conversation again.   
As the night went on, people started to gather mainly around the dance space, that was proving itself to be a little too small for the large amount of people using it. You were having a good time, but you were definitely not enjoying the feeling of getting rubbed all over by everyone around you. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered whatsoever. And as you predicted, he was already pretty out of it, prancing around the place and carelessly engaging into conversation with everyone who approached him, including people you knew he shit talked behind their back... The fake little bitch...       
You tried not to care, but you couldn’t keep yourself from constantly checking on him to see what he was up to. You weren’t the only one who couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.. What wasn’t unnusual, since he was such a natural attention-grabber. Howbeit, there were several girls and boys that were practically drooling at the sight of him. That wasn’t new either, but it didn’t make it any less annoying...        
When the boy finally made his way back to the group, he tried to convince you to dance with him by grabbing your hand and making you spin for him. You graciously brushed him off. Mostly out of shyness, persuading him into asking your friend John instead. He agreed on the spot... And once he finally managed to get his friend to bend at his will, they got everyone laughing and cheering, encouraging them to keep up with the tango dance moves. But it wasn’t long until the two boys had enough of the attention, laughing it off and joining the group again.          
Then a figure rose above the crowd. It was Alexa, who has just stood up on a table holding a microphone in her hand that she was slowly tapping on, attempting to grab everyone’s attention. “Hello, hello, hello my magnificent friends. How is everyone feeling tonight?” She asked, earning a loud cheer from the crowd, that she encouraged by clapping silently before speaking again. “Alright, alright... can y’all can shut the fuck up now? …I just wanted to say that I hope everyone is getting drunk and having a great time. You know me, I gotta be real with you… There are some people here I’d much rather had stayed home, but you know what? You don’t really bother me.” The girl shrugged haughtily. “With that said, I’d like to propose a toast to every single one of you motherfuckers that came to my party. Cheers, bitches!” She yelled the last two words, emptying her cup in a single swig while the crowd cheered and downed their own cups along with the host.
The fact that Alexa let you in had given you the impression that maybe Harry was right about her, but her speech left a bad taste in your mouth and made you wonder if you were one of the people she was talking about, you were almost certain you were. “What did you say earlier about her being a nice person?” You ironically asked Harry, that was standing right beside you.        
Your eyes were still stuck on her as you wondered if she would manage to get down from the table without falling. You secretly hoped she wouldn’t.            
He failed to answer your question, so you turned to him. Only to realize that he wasn’t there anymore. Your eyes quickly danced around the room, searching for your missing friend, and unfortunatly it wasn’t long until they found him...  
Your whole body went cold, feeling your heart sink in your chest. Your vision felt blurry, and there was a complicated knot forming at the tip of your stomach. There he was. Barely six feet away from you. With his back flush against a wall and his lips pressed harshly on somebody else’s. His hands gently caressed up the other boy’s back, that had his hands firmly clutched onto your friend’s hair and the back of his neck.            
You felt like your whole world was crashing down in front of you.            
Whilst everyone around you was enjoying themselves, all you wanted to do was collapse to your knees and scream your confusing pain away, but you couldn’t. There was nothing you could do and it just fucking hurt.            
You’d always known it would eventually happen... But nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling of watching the person you love fondling somebody else.    
In the middle of your agony, you noticed a pair of hazel eyes staring right at you from distance, breaking your attention from the heartbreaking scene. “Yo... What the fuck?!” You couldn’t hear her words, but you could read them clearly through the motion of her lips. She looked completely baffled by the state of you.
You stepped back, attempting your best to muffle into the crowd, but it was too late... You were certain she’d saw the devastated look on your face, and the glistening tear that rolled down your cheek afterwards.
You turned your back on the scene and pushed through the crowd, hidding your face as you stumbled upon almost everyone on your way to the bathroom. You locked yourself inside and leaned against the door, finally letting it all out as you sobbed uncontrollably and allowed for your body to slide down the surface, until your knees met the cold marble floor.    
A unexpected loud banging on the door startled you. “It’s occupied.” Y/N shouted, in the most composed voice she could fabricate.  
“It’s Alexa... open the door.” The girl shouted back impatiently.    
“Fuck off Alexa!” You could feel your blood boil and your hands trembling at the mere sound of her voice. “Just leave me alone, will you?”
There was silence for a moment, before she banged on the door harder. You tried to ignore it because considering your state, at the slighest provocation you’d probably lose it and punch her in the face. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, I’m here to help.” Alexa shouted again, but it was pointless. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll have to ask someone to kick the door down...”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”          
“It’s my house. What are you going to do about it?” She challenged, knowing you couldn’t fight her on that. “You have three seconds… one...two…” You flang the door open before she could finish her countdown, causing her to tremble ever so slightly. “Quite the charm, aren’t you?” She sighed satirically, making her way inside the bathroom while fixing her dress. You noticed she was holding a bottle of Bacardi rum, that she promptly opened and handed to you. You stood there perplexedly looking at her, trying to figure out what her intentions were. “Are you going to take it or not?” At that, you abruptly grabbed the bottle from her hand and took it to your lips, taking a big chug and giving it back with a disgusted expression caused by the intense alcohol sting. Alexa took the bottle to her lips as well, but unlike you, her face didn’t even flinch. “What did you come here for?” The sharpness of your tone led her into giving you a dirty look “What do you think? That I came in here to make fun of you?”            
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”     “Just thought you could use a friend...” She explained, jumping on her bum to sit on the countertop. “And luckily for you, so do I.”  
“Judging by the number of people outside, I’m sure you have plenty of friends.”  
She let out a silent wheeze at your guess. “Everything isn’t always what it seems, Nutmeg… I have people that keep me company, but when it comes down to the real shit, I have no one I can count with really…”        
“I’m finding that quite hard to believe if I’m honest…”               “I know you are. So is everyone else. They all assume my life is just perfect. After all, I have everything, don’t I? I don’t blame them... I know I can be cruel and bitter sometimes, but I’m not the cold-hearted, super confident bitch everyone thinks that I am.”   “Why are you telling me all that?”          
“I don’t know… Maybe ‘cause I’m drunk and lonely and you’re one of the few people here that I actually like…” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “You’re messing with me, right?”  She, on the other hand, seemed rather confused by your apprehensiveness. “I appreciate people like you... Who manage to stay true to themselves despite hanging out with these people. It’s so easy to lose yourself in this environment... But I don’t think you did, and I can appreciate that.”  
“I’m just lucky to have good friends... If they were different, I don’t know if I’d stayed so nice and humble.”      
As the silence settled, you took the chance to sit down on the edge of her expensive looking bathtub. “So… changing the subject. You and Harry, what’s the deal?”  
“What do you mean?” You pretended you didn’t know what she was implying, hoping she would let go of the topic.
“I’m not stupid. I saw the way you looked when he was all over that guy… I confess I had no idea that you were into him. I thought you liked girls, I could almost swear he had told me that.” Her words made your stomach twist, and Alexa didn’t miss your distressed expression. “Sorry... I’m not very good with words. I didn’t mean to make it worse.” The girl added, trying to make up for her cold stance. “Here...” She handed you back the bottle, and you agreeably to a swig from it. “Does he know?”
“I don’t think so...”   “I don’t mean to be unpleasant but I think he thinks you’re a lesbian.”   “Yeah, I know…  he’s not completely wrong, I guess.”     “So, you’re bi?”               “I don’t really know what I am.”               “Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to be anything, you can just be… yourself!” You locked eyes with her, briefely smiling at her motivational words “How long have you fancied him for?”
“I don’t know...” You stared down at your own feet. “Thinking back, I guess I always kind of have... but it’s complicated. So I just hoped it would go away with time... Besides, you’ve seen the people he gets with. They’re all gorgeous, and I... I mean, I don’t really meet the standards, do I?”         “And how’s that working out for you?” You went quiet, since you didn’t really have a good answer to give. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do. First of all, you gotta stop with the self loathing. It’s depressing and outdated. You’re just as valid as everyone else.”
“It’s not self loathing. You don’t understand… What if he pushes me away? I really care for our friendship and I don’t want to throw it all away because of a stupid crush.”     “A stupid crush? Didn’t you just say you’ve always liked him? How long have you known eachother for? Three years?”   “Well… Two and half, but it’s not like I’ve been waiting for him… I’ve had my fair share of relationships and so did he, I never did anything to change that. Why would I start now?”       “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re at a party, locked inside a bathroom, crying over him, while he’s out there screwing somebody else.”           “God, you’re certainly are awful with words aren’t you?”             “I take pride in my honesty.” She stated. “Look, all I can say is that I think this whole “crush” situation is, obviously, far more than a crush... And you know I’m right so don’t even bother to deny it. Therefore, I think it’s long overdue that you do something about how you feel, otherwise you’re just gonna be stuck wondering on the what ifs forever, watching him live his life while you’re unable to move on with your yours, and you deserve better than that. Anyone deserves better than that.”       “It’s just… scary.”   “Isn’t everything worth trying always somewhat scary at first?”   You ended up spending the rest of the night with Alexa. Sitting inside her large empty bathtub, sharing your shittiest life experiences and drowning your sorrows with the bottle of rum. She told you about her crazy ex-boyfriend, and how he had been making her life a living hell since their break up. Showing up uninvited at her work, her parties, and practically everywhere she went, despite her telling him time and time again to stop and leave her alone. You advised her the best you could, but as you expected, she was pretty stubborn and acted as if she had everything under control, even though she clearly did not. The night had taken a unexpected turn for you, however, at least there was something positive you could also take from it, that being the friendship that was beggining to fluorish between you and Alexa. 
You were so deep in conversation that you completely lost track of time, so much that you finally felt tired and decided to check you phone for the time, it was already 6AM.
You had seven missed calls and fifteen text messages from your friends asking where you were, if you were okay and if you were still leaving with them. You realized they had probably already left, so you just apologized for leaving early and informed them that you were fine. When you and Alexa got out of the bathroom, there were still a couple of people hanging around, but as expected, the vast majority had already left.         
The light coming from the windows hurt your tired eyes and your bottom half was hurting from spending so many hours sitting inside a bathtub. By that time, all you wanted to do was go home, take a shower and take a nap to make up for the all nighter you pulled, but then you remembered…      
“Shit!”
“What?”
“I left my car at Harry’s house.”              
I hope you’re enjoying it so far! Chapter II is hereeee!
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givemequeen · 4 years
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one of those days ; george x reader
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request: Hey could I request something with the beatles? You can choose which one but maybe something about what they do when the reader is anxious? Like when the reader doesn’t know what they’re anxious about they’re just really down. Sorry that the topic isn’t very happy but it could be really fluffy or something a/n: okay so what i got from this is: that the reader is down about something but they don’t know what. honestly, this is me 24/7, like sometimes im sad and idk why pairing: george x reader (he’s my fav LLL) summary: being sad about something but not sure what, just not having a good day and George comforting you about it. warnings: mentions of naked upper bodies BUT nothing sexual, just pure fluff. year: 1967 word count: 1477
That morning you woke up with a stranger feeling, you were sad but you did not even know why. George had kissed you goodbye early in the morning before going to the studio to work and you wished he hadn’t. He noticed something and asked if you were okay and after a lot of ‘I’m okay’s and assuring him you were okay he reluctantly left. You stayed still in your shared bed and without George, it felt cold and empty.
For the better part of the morning, you remained very still looking out the window, your mind God knows were. But you had to do something, you had a gig with another band to take photos of them but you called to cancel claiming you were feeling sick. They believed you and wished for you to get better, you did too wanting to get better and out of this toxic mindset that was keeping you from doing anything good on this wasted day.
Reluctantly you rolled out of bed and somehow managed to take a shower. Half an hour was wasted by you sitting on the toilet, a towel wrapped around your body and eyes staring blankly at the wall. After pulling your thoughts together you changed into joggers and one of George’s t-shirt, the scent of it making you feel better. You didn’t eat anything, you didn’t have it in you to do so. Instead, you turned the telly on, leaving the first thing that showed up and you laid down on the couch.
Back in the studio, it was lunchtime and George was by the phone ringing the place he knew you were working today. To his surprise when he asked for you they told him that you were feeling sick and wouldn’t be able to go to work that day. Your husband/boyfriend was taken back, normally you would call him up and tell him you weren’t feeling so good but today was different. Instantly he knew something was wrong, first this morning now this? He decided to wait half an hour and see if you would swing by the studio to have lunch with him like always but you didn’t turn up.
“Hey lads, I need to go home. I’m not sure yn is doing okay, do you need me for anything?” asked George already picking up his coat. The other three boys looked at each other and after a non-verbal agreement, they turned to him and shook their heads.
“Hope she gets better George.” called out Ringo.
“Yeah, tell her we say hi,” added Paul.
“And tell us if she gets better.” finished John. George thanked them and picked up the flat’s keys. He rushed back home, so quickly it took him half the time than usual. When he reached the flat he called out your name as he hanged up his coat but there was no response.
“yn?” he said a bit louder. Your eyes perked up at the sound of George’s voice, you even propped up but fell back down, your head was feeling too heavy. You mumbled his name. “yn where- Are you okay?” George asked racing to your side. He kneeled by your side and touched your forehead, his other hand rubbing your side. “Are you sick? You’re head’s not too hot, do you need anything?” you looked up to him and managed a half-smile before shaking your head. “Love, what’s wrong?” he asked planting a kiss on your head.
“I dunno... ‘m just sad,” you admitted moving towards him.
“Just one of those days?” he asked sighing, you nodded and cuddled into his hand that was on your cheek. “Do you want to cuddle in bed? Eat something?” you nodded once more, your eyes closing.
“Yes please, Geo.” 
“Okay, hold on to me, alright?” you opened your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He snaked his arms under your legs to pull you up. George took you to your room bridal style and plopped you down on the bed. “Stay here, I’ll get you a snack,” you whined as he left and as much as it hurt him you had to eat. He came back as soon as he could with your favourite food in hand. “Here, sit up so you can eat.” you struggled to sit up by George helped you by pulling you up and tucking pillows behind your back. You thanked him and ate the food. “I’ll get changed so we can cuddle and see if you get better.” George kissed your forehead as you munched away and went to get changed.
Your eyes followed him as he took off his shoes, socks and trousers and replaced them with joggers. He was taking off his t-shirt when he turned to you, your eyes fell to his toned stomach and went back up to his soft, chocolate eyes. George was smiling at the way you eyed him making you blush. “Sorry,” you mumbled looking down at your food.
“‘S alright.” he chuckled. “Not your fault I’m this attractive.” he winked making you softly giggle. His smile widened at your reaction, that was a step to your happiness. “I love your laugh and smile,” George mentioned as he pulled a t-shirt on and climbed into the bed. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and took the empty plate of food. George carefully placed it by the bedside table before turning back to you. 
“Here, take off your t-shirt.” you eyed him suspiciously, what was he plotting? “Trust me.” the two words you needed hearing. He helped you out off his t-shirt and he copied your moves, taking his t-shirt off as well. You hadn’t bothered putting on a bra, you noticed how George wasn’t looking at your breasts like a hungry dog. Instead, he had pulled you close to him so your bodies were touching. You sighed happily when your skin touched his. “Ya like that? I heard skin-to-skin contact is good.” 
“I love it, George,” you told him latching onto him.
“What do ya want to do?” he softly asked as the two of you shimmed down, he put your pillows back to their original place and fluffed them so you were comfortable. George was laying down with his back flat against the bed, you were on your side, your arms around his torso just as he had his wrapped around your body. One hand was drawing patterns on your back relaxing you. You shrugged your shoulders just as an idea came to mind.
“Actually... nevermind you’re probably sick of it,” you said your fingers drumming against his chest.
“You want me to sing for you?” he asked reading your mind. 
“If you want to...” you replied.
“Of course I’ll sing for you.” George rubbed your back and fell silent thinking of a song to sing for you. “I... I actually have been writing a song... for you.” you looked up to him for a moment, a smile on your face.
“Really?” you asked and he nodded. “Let’s hear it.” you announced falling back to your spot.
“Well, it’s not perfect yet but... Okay, here it goes.” he took a deep breath and let it out. “Something in the way she moves... attracts me like no other lover...” he began, his voice soft and low. “Something in the way she woos me... I don't want to leave her now, you know I believe and how.” he imitated an instrument. “Somewhere in her smile, she knows... that I don't need no other lover. Something in her style that shows me.” he picked up his pace and volume. “I don't want to leave her now. You know I believe and how. 
“You're asking me will my love grow. I don't know, I don't know... You stick around, now it may show. I don't know, I don't know.” he was singing a bit louder now, your heart was aching, the lyrics were sweet. That and his voice made you feel much better already. He stopped to kiss your forehead and the imitated a guitar solo. “Something in the way she knows and all I have to do is think of her. Something in the things she shows me... I don't want to leave her now, you know I believe and how” he finished and looked down at you.
“That was perfect Geo. I love it so much,” you told him as you moved so you could get a good look at him. “Was that really for me?” you asked him.
“Of course, who else would it be for?” 
“Dunno, your mistress?” you joked making him laugh.
“Glad you’re feeling better.” George pulled you closer and kissed you, this time on your lips. You gladly kissed him back and pulled away only when you needed air.
“Me too. Thank you for everything George.”
“Anything for you, love.”
tag list;
@thebeatleswritings​  @beatlevmania​  @i-love-queen-3000​  @brians-metaphor26​ @honimello​  @julessworldd​  @storiesfrommirkwood​  @beatles-babee​ @geostarr​ @thiccjelly17​  @crab-king-69​  @in-the-frap-of-the-gods​  @psychosupernatural​ @fiesta-freddie​  
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themoonmothwrites · 5 years
Note
Good luck on Tuesday! For a fic prompt: “I want your hidden look, your real smile— that lonely, mocking smile your cool mirror knows.” (Jorge Luis Borges)
(I looked up the full poem for inspiration, and have borrowed some lines and imagery from it for this fic, including the title. It’s gorgeous, you should read it. I was originally going to go to an angstier place with this, but in the end, I needed to write fluff. I hope you enjoy it, @mia-ugly . And yes, I did borrow that meme. No, I won’t apologise ;) )
Things Unlikely and Desirable
Crowley wasn’t a creature of the night. Oh he enjoyed a good lurk in a shadowed doorway as much as the next demon, something about it was hardwired into the form, but slinking around pubs and clubs at the arse end of the day, clothes picking up the fug of spilled beer and stale cigarette smoke– Or following someone home down an unlit street just to give them the willies– Emphatically not his scene. He’d much rather stay home with a nice red, watch some telly, and get in a good nap.
Well, no, he’d much rather make himself comfortable on the bookshop couch with a nice red, have a rambling conversation with the only person he wanted to spend his time with, and then pretend to be asleep while Aziraphale tucked a blanket around him so that maybe he’d kiss his forehead again like he had that one time last week. No chance of that tonight, though.
They were meeting later, much as they had done for the last several years since the Antichrist’s birth had necessitated they spend more time together. Aziraphale had suggested a play, and Crowley had agreed, not because he had a desperate desire to see the play but because he honestly didn’t care what they were doing so long as he got to sit next to Aziraphale and soak up his presence. So yeah, they’d agreed to meet, time and place all pre-arranged, and then Crowley had been confronted by that terrible stretch of time between the now of the phone call and the later of their rendezvous, how he would fill it with shreds and odd ends, empty music for a hungry heart. The lesser of two evils was to go out, but at least it was still quite early. Couldn’t be bothered with the whole creature of the night thing, yeah, but a creature of the late-afternoon-slash-early-evening he could do.
That was how he found himself in a bar in the theatre district during the post-work buzz, drawn there by that ancient sense that told him Aziraphale was near. That was how he found himself lurking after all, watching unseen as a handsome human approached Aziraphale, sat down beside him at the bar, and bought him a drink.
Crowley watched heatedly, mouth downturned, silent and still as a snake. Watched as the conversation seemed to flow, Aziraphale bestowing smiles like they were nothing, like they didn’t have to be earned. Sitting sideways on his bar stool so he could face his companion (manners, always. It was disgusting really) it meant that Crowley saw him in profile – effortlessly, incessantly beautiful.
People liked Aziraphale. That was part of his hardwiring. Somehow they could sense his innate kindness and it drew them to him unerringly. The angel was just as bad, with his attentive listening and aura of genuinely caring what Stuart from IT thought. How many times had Crowley come across him like this, engrossed by some human or other at a watering hole, utterly oblivious to what the increasingly enthusiastic smiles and lingering touches meant?
At least, Crowley always optimistically assumed utter obliviousness. He didn’t think he could deal with the alternative.
Finally, Aziraphale’s new friend got up to leave. Probably just to the toilet, given the way he leaned in, letting his hand linger on Aziraphale’s thigh, before walking reluctantly away, but perhaps the weight of Crowley’s malevolent stare had something to do with it, who knew, really? Crowley didn’t even give him the chance to get out of sight before he slid onto the vacated stool beside Aziraphale.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. He tried to imbue it with a certain amount of ominousness, but pathetic bastard that he was, Crowley feared it just came out hurt and a little grumpy. 
Aziraphale’s face lit up at the sight of him. “Crowley!”
There was a certain amount of satisfaction to be had in the fact that none of the smiles Aziraphale had directed at his previous partner had anything on this one. This one radiated light like one of those old Byzantine paintings of angels, head surrounded in a shining halo of gold. Crowley had never seen him give it to anyone else, and he would never admit it, not even drunk, but it was one of his favourite things in the world. That, and the Expression.
“You’re early.” 
“And good job, too. Where’s your new friend?”
“You’ve been watching me?” Aziraphale asked, scandalised, amused, and, to Crowley’s secret delight, a little guilty. Like a date caught texting their ex. Or perhaps, in Aziraphale’s case, caught reading a Wilde.
Crowley shrugged, unembarrassed. “‘M a demon. Loitering about in the unsavoury establishments of the world is what I do.”
“Unsavoury?” Aziraphale said in exasperation, glancing around at the well-lit bar with its comfortable, clean interior and fancy finishes. “Really, my dear.”
“Yeah? Well what were you doing? Finding some poor unsuspecting sap to pay your tab?”
Ah, there it was, the Expression, that cool look, pinched mouth, sarcasm at the corners of his eyes. Crowley loved that look almost as much as the sun-shattering smile, because that look was a look just for him. Whether he would admit it or not, Aziraphale simply wouldn’t trust anyone else to see him less than polite, less than bright and happy and helpful. Even with the customers he turned away from buying his precious books, the angel had a way of helping them to understand that this wasn’t really what they wanted to spend their hard-earned money on, and to go on now and have a lovely day. No one else ever got that sharpness, the little eye-roll, the gentle sniping (oh, flawless) like raspberry coulis sweet-tart on the back of the tongue.
“Clearly, I needn’t have bothered,” he said with a sort of soft waspishness that made Crowley’s heart sing. “Since you’re here, now.”
And yes, all right, that was warranted, because Crowley would indeed pay Aziraphale’s tab, and had been doing so for millennia at this point. They both knew it. Seemed a little rude to go lampshading it like that, though.
“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, with a hand to his chest (this was the best way, he considered, to get even). “Am I your shining knight come to rescue you from the vagaries of capitalism? Shall I thus present my platinum Amex and sweep you off into the night?”
Aziraphale actually rolled his eyes. Crowley had to restrain himself from any outward manifestations of glee. “All you’ve rescued me from so far is a rather pleasant conversation. I think you’ll have to do better than that if you want to claim knight status.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Crowley warned. 
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, expression delightfully bitchy. “Well if you’re not up to it…”
Gauntlet thrown down and accepted. Crowley sprung off the bar stool and, rather daringly, took Aziraphale’s hand, holding it in both of his own. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he demanded loudly. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate.” He gestured expansively. “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” He lifted Aziraphale’s hand, breathing the words over his knuckles. “But thy eternal summer shall not fade.” He looked back up at Aziraphale, who was tracking him intently, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. “Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st, Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.” Aziraphale’s hand was an inch from Crowley’s lips now, and the angel was watching him almost expectantly. “So long as men can breathe,” Crowley murmured, “or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to–”
“Is this man bothering you?”
Crowley groaned expressively and dropped Aziraphale’s hand to swing around and face the interruption. It was the man from before. Must’ve been a loo break, then. How disappointing. Crowley was just winding up to give the overly-solicitous little mollusc a piece of his mind, when Aziraphale caught his arm and tugged him back from the confrontation.
“Of course he is,” Aziraphale said, his voice so full of affection that Crowley had to turn back just to look at his face. He was smiling, glowing with fondness, and Crowley melted catastrophically. “He’s my husband.”
Some more words were exchanged after that. Crowley didn’t pay them any attention. It wasn’t until they were out on the street, making their way hand in hand to the theatre, that Aziraphale turned to him and asked, “Are you quite satisfied with yourself?”
“Oh, exorbitantly,” Crowley said. Aziraphale huffed, but looked pleased nonetheless.
“Ridiculous creature,” he muttered. Then he leant over, and kissed Crowley on the cheek. “The poetry was nice.”
“Your smile’s my favourite thing in all of creation,” Crowley blurted.
“Oh, really?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I always got the impression you were, ah, rather fond of my…”
“Lots of things to love about you, angel,” Crowley said quickly. 
“You, too, my dear.” They gazed at each other a moment. “You were very dashing,” Aziraphale added.
“Uhh,” Crowley said, while his brain parsed that out. “Noooo, wait, you–? That was– That was on purpose?” Suddenly he was looking at all those encounters over the years with new eyes. Not oblivious, then, but attention-seeking.
Aziraphale smirked. Crowley fell for him all over again.
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raywritesthings · 4 years
Note
Mamihlapinatapei for TenxDonna ❤️❤️
Here you go, man, I hope you like it!
Maddening
Summary: The Doctor and Donna are perfect for each other, so Martha doesn't understand why they can't see it. Martha and Mickey are perfect for each other, so Donna doesn't understand why they can't see it. In which friends may be projecting their own issues onto each other.*Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*
“It’s maddening,” Martha said as she dropped onto the couch.
“What is?”
“Them!” Her roommate only shrugged, so Martha snagged thepopcorn bowl off Mickey’s lap to help herself and hopefully draw his attention.
“Oh, alright, what about them?” He asked, lowering thevolume on the telly without even being asked.
“Well it’s just, you saw them today.” It had been hard notto. What had started out as a catch-up session with Donna and the Doctor overcoffee had ended up being a full-blown investigation and chase when Martha andMickey had finally gotten their first credible call about freelance work. Theother pair had naturally come along — hard to stop the Doctor when he wasaround — and had torn from one end of the site to the other bickering and babblingtogether in turns, before deciding a rather clever strategy together thatMartha and Mickey had been able to build into an actionable plan.
“I’ve never seen him as happy as when he’s around her. AndDonna, she just lights up, you know?”
“So?”
“So why don’t they do anything about it?” She shovedanother handful of the popcorn in her mouth. “I know you think he really lovedRose and all, but he’s definitely over the hang-up there if you ask me. AndDonna wants to spend the rest of her life with him.”
“Maybe they’re just in a good place, taking it as it comes,”Mickey suggested. “You don’t want to rush something like that, do you?”
His question had come out almost too lightly, as though hereally wanted her to believe he wasn’t remotely interested in the answer.
“No, I suppose not,” she agreed slowly, returning the bowlto the middle seat on the couch separating them. “I guess I just hope they dosomething about it sooner rather than later. No sense denying yourselfhappiness, right?”
Martha couldn’t look at him. She told herself it was becausethe game on the television was just too interesting.
“Right.” There was a pause, almost too long, before Mickeyasked, “More popcorn?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she answered, a little fast and a littleshaky. She managed a tight smile that Mickey returned fleetingly as he stood upwith the nearly empty bowl. They hovered like that for the space of a breaththat seemed to take an eternity — and she’d been to the end of the world. ThenMickey seemed to make a great effort to turn and leave the room.
“Get a hold of yourself, Dr. Jones,” Martha muttered.“You’re talking about your friends, not- not this.”
There wasn’t a this anyway. They were just friends andbusiness partners who had moved in together to save on expenses. Not that she’dmind if they — but they weren’t. Were they?
Was this how her friends always felt?
---
“It’s maddening, isn’t it?” Donna asked aloud. “I said, isn’tit?” She added a moment later, prodding the Doctor with her foot down theother end of the couch.
“Hm?” He peered at her through his spectacles he didn’t needover the edge of his book. Probably thought it made him look clever.
“Martha and Mickey.”
“Yes.”
“Are maddening.”
“Are they? What about?”
“Because they’re not together!” Donna exclaimed. “I mean, they’rejust so perfect.”
“Thought you were happy for Martha when she had Tom,” theDoctor said, frowning as he set aside his book.
“Oh, Tom was just the rebound. Knew that.”
“Rebound?” He mumbled with a frown. Bless him. Probably hadbeen all pleased that Tom seemed like him. He could stand to have the windtaken out of those sails a little.
“Yes,” Donna said, drawing it out. “So now that she’s beenthrough all that she’s found herself a proper match in Mickey — but they’re notdoing anything about it!”
They’d been so in sync earlier today, Donna hadn’t been ableto stop noticing. It was like they didn’t even need to talk to understand whatthe other needed in the moment. If that wasn’t true partnership, she’d eat herwhole hatbox.
“They work together, live together,” Donna continued,numbering her list on the fingers of one hand. “Why not just do all the rest ofit together?”
“All the rest?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what Imean.”
“Haven’t the foggiest,” the Doctor replied loftily.
“Oi, I looked in that big brain of yours once,” Donnareminded him. “I know you know a thing or two.” One or two of the things sheremembered had really been, well…
The Doctor coughed, bringing her back to the present as wellwith a blush, and looked away. “Right, well. Isn’t it their own business? Imean, how would you like it if someone told you that just because you and Ilive together and work together, we ought to be married and all?” His headtilted, and he scratched at his cheek. “Well, actually, they do. But that’sbeside the point.”
“Right,” Donna agreed quickly, because her blush didn’t seemto want to go away.
“The point was — er, what was the point again?”
“About Martha and Mickey being good together.”
“Right. Just because they are doesn’t have to mean anything.It might just mean that they’re a great pair of friends. Best mates. Andreally, what more can you ask for?” His eyes looked even larger than usualbehind his glasses as he searched her face. “If you were going to ask, anyway.”
“And no one says you have to ask,” Donna hurriedly assuredhim, suddenly terrified he would because asking meant answering, and what wasshe supposed to answer with? How did anybody ever answer those great brown eyesof his? It was unfair to expect her to work under these conditions.
“Exactly,” the Doctor agreed with emphasis.“Sometimes you just carry on, as the Brits would say.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she declared, standing. “Come on,let’s find somewhere to drink it to.”
“I like the way you think, Donna Noble.” His spectacles weretossed into a jacket pocket as he jumped up and led the way out of the TARDISlibrary, Donna right by his side.
Best to put her friends and the whole thing outof her mind for the time being. They were probably thinking about it enough ontheir own, right?
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sushigirlali · 4 years
Text
If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part II (Reylo Fanfic)
Tumblr media
Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue 
Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa’s son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?
Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron
Rating: E
Continuity: Modern AU
A/N: It was hard sticking to a posting schedule, but I did it! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr
——————
If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part II
By: sushigirlali
——————
Kennington, London
——————
Vaulting off the bed, Rey threw on his long shirt and raced to Ben's side. "Please, don't read whatever he's written. It's not what you think."
"Too late," he replied grimly, tossing her the device.
"Ben, I—"
"So, what am I to you exactly? It's hard to tell based on your boyfriend's flurry of messages. A mark? A quick fuck? What?"
Rey tried for a joke. "Well, not a quick fuck."
It didn't land.
"Get out."
"Ben!" she protested. "He's not my boyfriend, he's my brother. Well, foster brother. But that's neither here nor there."
"No, it really isn't."
"Please, let me explain!"
"No," he said shortly. "No, I don't think so." He marched over to the door for the second time in as many days and threw it open. "Get the hell out!"
"Wait, can't we just—"
"No! You're clearly not who I thought you were. I really don't see what else there is to say."
Frustrated by his stubborn refusal to hear her out, Rey vacillated between desperation and anger. Anger won out. "Fine! Fuck you, then!" she shouted, grabbing her things and escaping into the hall. "It's not like I ever—hey!" Rey stopped short as Ben abruptly shut the door in her face. "I was still talking, asshole!"
But he didn't answer.
"Fine! Be that way!" she raged. "Go back to America, you rich prick! It's not like I was going to beg you to stay! And don't think I'll be back! Because I won't! I hate you, Ben Solo!"
Silence.
"Okay," she muttered, pulling on her boots. "Okay, be that way, you coward." Rey kicked the door for good measure before turning on her heel and heading for the elevators. "Who does he think he is, anyway?" She impatiently smacked the button. "Kicking me out like that...it's not like I was going to do anything. I'd already decided that I wanted…"
Him. She wanted him.
Rey jumped when the metal doors dinged open. "This is it. The moment of truth." She looked back at Ben's flat one last time, but was disappointed when he didn't appear to stop her. "Goodbye, Ben," she whispered, boarding the elevator with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry."
——————
"Where the hell have you been?" Finn demanded the moment she entered their hideaway, taking in her disheveled appearance.
"Enjoying myself!" she snapped, tossing her clothes and bo staff through her open bedroom door before joining him in the living room. "Or at least I was until Ben read your fucking text messages!"
"Ohhh…" Finn had the grace to look chagrined. "Uh, sorry."
"You should be!"
"Hey, you had your fun, didn't you? And besides, you don't want to get mixed up with his sort," he snorted.
"And what do you mean by that?" she huffed.
"Didn't you read my texts?"
"No, Ben did! Or, some of them at least." Rey flopped down on the sofa. "Why?"
"Because," he said, muting the stock car race he'd been watching on the telly, "I heard that those goons you chased off last night are still looking for him."
"What?!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What do you mean they're looking for him?"
Finn seemed startled by her reaction. "I mean, they were hired to kidnap him. His mum is important or some shit."
"Of course," she groaned, releasing her friend to pace around the room. "I knew the tall one seemed familiar."
"Who?"
"One of the muggers," she explained impatiently. "It was Phasma."
"Oh, shit."
"Exactly," she concurred. "So, the other one had to be Hux then; he's always attached to Phasma's hip."
"Did he recognize you?"
"Yeah," she waved away the concern in his voice, "but more importantly, the two of them being involved means the First Order is after Ben."
"He's done for then," Finn sighed. "Hope you got a consolation prize, at least."
"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I didn't."
"You gave up the opportunity to shaft some rich American who probably—"
"If you want to preserve our relationship, you won't finish that remark," Rey glared, still pacing.
"Look, I'm sorry, but—"
"Shut up for a second, I'm trying to think."
"About what?" he asked.
"How to save Ben, obviously."
"And what are you going to do about it? Play human shield when the bullets start flying?" he said incredulously.
"Don't be silly," she dismissed.
"Then what?"
"We kidnap him instead," she said simply.
"We—?! Have you lost your mind?!" he exclaimed.
"No, I haven't," she denied. "This is the best way to protect him until he can get out of dodge."
"You do hear yourself, right?" Finn stepped into her path. "How is holding the bloke against his will the best way to protect him?"
"The First Order can't kidnap what they can't find," Rey shrugged, starting to pick up items around the room that could be useful. "We might need duct tape, a pillow case…hmm, what else?"
"Wow, you've really fallen for this guy."
Rey snapped around to face him. "I have not!"
"No? Then why are you doing this? Why help a stranger at all?"
"He's not a stranger! Ben is my—he's—" Rey threw the supplies on the ground. "Look, I don't have to explain myself to you! I just can't let anything happen to him, okay?"
Finn gave her a strange look. "Okay, sis, whatever you say."
"So, you'll help me?"
His expression softened. "Of course, I will. Here." He picked the tape up off the floor and handed it to her.
"Thanks."
"Sure," Finn smiled, "we're family."
——————
Looking through the swanky window of the swankiest lunch spot in the swankiest part of London, Rey was feeling out of her depth. Or, at least she had been until she spotted her target. After that, all she felt was anger.
Striding inside and past a bewildered looking maître d', she went right up to the table Ben was sharing with a pretty blonde woman. He looked so good in his black suit and red tie that she wanted to bite something, preferably him.
"Rey!" he said, looking stunned at her sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you," she said evenly, eying the person next to him. "Alone."
Ben frowned. "What else is there to say?"
"A lot," she said matter-of-factly. "Look, I'm sorry to interrupt your date—"
"It's not a date," he denied quickly.
"No?" she had to suppress a smile.
"No," he said more calmly. "I'm in the middle of a business meeting."
"Really?" Rey assessed the wide-eyed woman in her soft pink suit. She looked downright disappointed by her tablemate's dismissal, but Ben's expression seemed honest enough. "Good, then you can reschedule." Hustling around the table, she forced Ben to his feet.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he exclaimed, tripping a little on the long white tablecloth.
"Kidnapping you," she deadpanned, taking his hand. "Didn't I tell you before? I'm a bad guy."
Ben's fingers clenched over hers, but still he resisted. "Rey, I've got at least 100 pounds on you!"
"So what," she scoffed. "I've taken down guys even bigger than you."
"Without your weapon?" he asked, eyeing her naked hip.
"I left my staff in the car, but I can now see that was a mistake. So, stop playing around and come with me before I go get it!"
"Listen, my mother is—!"
"I don't care!"
"Well, I do! Your life isn't worth—whatever this is! You can't really be this desperate for money!"
"Sure I can," she said, trying to tow him toward the back door. "Come now, we need to get out of here."
"And go where?" he said incredulously.
"My place. My brother is downstairs with the car."
"You brought a getaway car?!"
"Of course I did!" Rey grunted, throwing all her weight behind moving him along. Unfortunately, Ben was so massive that she made little headway.
"Um, Mr. Solo?" the pretty blonde piped up out of nowhere. "Should I call the police, or...?"
"No!" they shouted at the same time, with Rey adding, "Stay out of it!" for good measure.
"Hey!" Ben glared down at the hellion attached to his arm. "Don't yell at her! It's rude!"
"Me?!" Rey returned. "You yelled at her too!"
"Shut up," he snipped, turning back to his acquaintance. "Kaydel, I—uh—need to reschedule, okay?"
"Um, okay," Kaydel replied with barely contained annoyance. "I'll just—go, then."
"Bye!" Rey said cheerfully, waving her off.
"Really, Rey?"
"What?" she tugged on his hand again. "Come on! Your manners have been preserved, your face has been saved. So, can we go now?"
"Fine, fine," he grumbled, throwing a few bills on the table as she yanked him toward the back exit. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"I already told you, we're going to my place. It's near The Black Prince."
"I thought you didn't live in that neighborhood."
"I lied."
"Big surprise," he sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, you can be mad at me later," she persisted. "It's not safe here."
Ben pulled her to a stop near the restroom. "What do you mean it's not safe? For who? For you?"
"No, not me."
"For me?"
"Dammit, Ben, come on!" Rey growled, getting desperate now that they were so close to the exit.
"Not until you tell me why."
"Fine!" she huffed, throwing up her hands in the air. "Those muggers the other day weren't just there to pick your pocket, Ben. They were sent."
"Sent by whom?"
"The First Order. It's a paramilitary organization with international connections who—"
"I know who they are," Ben said bitterly, taking her hand again. "Let's go in here. We shouldn't talk about this out in the open."
"Finn is right outside! We could just—"
"I don't want to talk to Finn, I want to talk to you. And then we can go. Deal?"
"Ugh, fine!" Rey grudgingly allowed him to lead her into the single bathroom stall, sensing he wouldn't budge until he knew everything.
Locking the door behind them, Ben placed his hands on her shoulders. Even though they had been parted less than a day, it felt good to be touched by him again.
"Alright, now tell me what is going on," he said calmly. "Please," he added politely.
"Finn heard that those two muggers from last night are still looking for you," she informed him.
"Heard from who?"
"I don't know, Finn has a lot of sources around the city."
"And I'm just supposed to take his word on it?" Ben said skeptically.
"No, you're supposed to take mine," she retorted.
"Because you're so trustworthy?" he frowned.
"Look, I didn't rob you, or whatever you think I did or was going to do!" she said defensively. "Did I have a moment where I considered breaking into your safe? Yes, okay? But I didn't! I decided I wanted you more!"
Ben's dark eyes blazed with feeling. "And now? Do you want me still?"
"Yes!" she admitted, as much to him as to herself. "I'm just trying to protect you, idiot! So, I need you to believe—mmph!" Rey's ranting stalled as Ben drew her mouth under his.
"Why?" he said against her lips.
"Because, you're special," she whispered, sliding her hands up his board torso, "and so was what we shared last night."
"I knew it," he said, kissing her again. "I knew you felt it too! When I read those texts I wanted to sink through the floor. I thought I'd misjudged you, that everything I was feeling was just in my imagination." Rey gasped as he backed her into the sink attached to the wall. "I never want to feel that way again."
Rey tugged on the lapels of his suit, gratified to find him hard against her thigh. "I'm sorry," she said softly. Then, roguishly, "Want me to kiss it better?"
"I have another idea," he growled, spinning her around so that she faced the mirror. His hands went this fastening on her jeans, but he hesitated for a moment. "Is this okay? I won't make you do anything you don't—"
"Yes, yes!" she cried pushing back against him.
Not needing to be told twice, he made quick work of her zipper and his, pulling down their pants and underwear just far enough to get the job done.
"Hold onto the sink," he ordered.
Doing as he asked, Rey let him take the lead. "What now?"
"Bend over," he instructed, nudging her feet apart.
"Okay," she said breathlessly, spreading her legs and bending at the waist. Hands braced on the edge of the sink, Rey waited for Ben to mount her. "What now?"
"Do you want this?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure?"
"YES!"
"Okay, then," he growled, spreading her with his fingers. "Here I come..."
Rey gasped as he filled her in one stroke, rocking her on her toes with the force of his penetration. "Ben!"
"Shit, was that too hard?!" he asked hurriedly.
"No," she moaned, pushing back against him. "You kicked me out before I could get my fill this morning! Do it again!"
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said hotly, wrapping an arm around her middle and pumping into her with long, deep strokes. The other tangled in her hair, pulling her head back onto his shoulder.
"Oh, god!" she whimpered, watching his face in the mirror above the sink. He looked like he'd found heaven and hell all at once.
"Do you like that?" he growled against her cheek, nibbling on her earlobe. He met her eyes in the mirror. "Do you like the way my cock feels inside you?"
"Yes!" she groaned, so turned on by the constricted way he was holding her that she knew she wouldn't last long. "Ben, I'm going to come!"
"Already?" he said in awe. "Damn, I'm sorry for neglecting you this morning, baby."
"You're—making—up—for—it!" she grunted as he continued to thrust away inside her.
"I'm glad to hear—ah!" His whole body snapped forward as her inner muscles started to flutter around him, trapping her between his chest and the sink.
"Don't stop!" she whined. "Ben, please! I'm so close!"
"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, clearly on the brink himself, "I swear I can usually last longer than this."
"I don't care! We're fucking in a bathroom!" she said with unconscious humor. "Make me come, dammit!" He laughed out loud and the sound eased her temper. "Uh, sorry."
"Hey, I love how vocal you are," he assured her.
Her heart pounded at his sweetness. "You do?"
He started rocking from side to side, bringing a shuddering gasp from her lips. "Oh, yeah." Putting a little space between them so he had room to maneuver, Ben resumed pumping his hips, setting a pace that had her screaming in seconds.
Placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, he followed her release a few moments later with a satisfied groan.
Knock, knock.
"Fuck," Ben swore, freezing inside her. "Just a minute!" he called back.
Carefully pulling out, he grabbed a couple paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and wiped himself off. Still braced on the sink, Rey watched as he adjusted his clothing before running the scratchy paper between her thighs as well.
"Thanks," she half-laughed, half-moaned.
"I can't believe we just did that, I don't know what came over me. It's like I'm—"
"Addicted to sex?" she supplied, turning on the facet to splash some water on her flushed face.
"Addicted to you," he countered, pulling up her jeans and refastening them for her.
"Nicely played," she teased, leaning back against his chest. "Now, let's get you out of here."
"As you wish."
——————
There was no one in the hallway as they left, so Rey could only assume that they had grown tired of waiting. She supposed she should be embarrassed about having sex in a public water closet, but she wasn't. Still, she was glad that they didn't have to endure any judgmental stares on their way to the back alley.
Even though it had taken longer than planned to retrieve Ben, Finn was still waiting for them. Her best friend was loyal to a fault, something she was immensely grateful for.
"Took you long enough," Finn scolded once she shoved Ben into the back of the dark blue mini.
"Sorry," Rey replied without elaborating. "Let's punch it."
"Uh, hi," Ben said awkwardly, looking comically out of place in Finn's tiny car. "Ben Solo," he introduced himself, buckling first Rey's belt and then his own.
"Finn," he brother grinned, eyeing them in the rear view mirror. "So, did you two fuck in the bathroom, or what? Cause your faces are all red and you're sweating."
"Finn!" Rey said indignantly.
"What?" he said innocently.
"Listen, before we go anywhere," Ben said slowly, "thanks for helping us out, but—"
"Fuck off?"
"Finn!"
"Well, excuse me for not being thrilled that the man my baby sis met yesterday is exposing her to potentially dangerous, not to mention unsanitary, situations."
"Oh, my god," Rey groaned, covering her face. "Please, stop talking."
"The First Order is no joke," he continued, "so it would save us all a lot of time and heartache if you could just keep it in your pants for a couple hours. Okay?"
"I—okay," Ben grimaced. "I get your point."
"Excellent!" Finn said brightly. "We'll be home in a jiffy and then we can come up with a game plan."
"Can't wait," Ben and Rey said together. They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
Still watching them from the front seat, Finn smiled too.
——————
"Hey, Finn?" Rey called after several minutes of driving.
"Yeah, I see them," he answered, gripping the steering wheel harder.
"What's wrong?" Ben asked, oblivious.
"A car has been following us for several blocks," Rey informed him. "Stop, don't turn around," she cautioned.
Ben sat up straight, like a child being chastised. "Sorry!"
Finn tried to ease the sudden tension. "Where did you find this pup, Rey?"
"Hey! I'm 35!"
"Are you?" she said interestedly. "I guess we never discussed our ages."
"Well, there wasn't much time in between—"
"Hey! Keep your bedroom tales to yourself," Finn broke in. "Gross." They laughed, as he intended. "Now, here's what we'll—oh, shit!"
Finn swerved as the red hatchback behind them sped up, nearly blocking their way forward on the narrow side road. "Fuck, do you both have your seatbelts on?"
"Yes!" they said, checking just in case.
"Finn, what do we do?" Rey said, turning around just as their pursuers slammed into the right bumper. "Ahh!"
Ben lurched sideways, cracking his head against the window. "Ben!" she screamed, catching him as he half fell onto her lap.
"Is he bleeding?" Finn said tightly, trying to put some distance between the two vehicles.
"No," she replied, tears clogging her throat. She brushed his hair away from his face to find a lump already forming. "Just knocked out."
"Okay, he's okay," Finn said encouragingly. "Now, I need you to do something for me, Rey."
"What?"
"Hold on!"
Bracing her feet against the back of the passenger seat, Rey wrapped her arms around her lover and bent her head. The next few minutes were dizzying, terrifying, but Finn kept them on the road as he weaved through traffic.
"Fuck! Rey, I'm going to have to make a hard left across a red light," he warned.
Ready for it, she hunched further over Ben, their seat belts and gravity keeping them in place as Finn made the turn in a burst of speed. Rey heard several tires squeal and a hard crash, but their car made it through unscathed.
"Alright," Finn said a few moments later, slowing down, "I think we've lost them."
"Was that them who crashed?"
"Yeah, right into a light pole. I don't think anyone else was hurt."
"Good," she sighed in relief.
"How did they find us?" Finn wondered.
"I think I know." Rey dug through Ben's jacket and found his cell phone.
"Turn it off and take the sim card out," Finn advised.
"I will, but first…" she held the phone up to Ben's face to unlock it, then scrolled through his favorites for two names. Reaching into the black messenger bag resting by her feet, she retrieved her own mobile device and quickly copied over the contacts. "Got them. Okay, powering down now."
"Great, but how are we going to solve the second problem?"
"What's that?"
"Getting the big guy out of the car."
——————
Entering the underground garage that led to their lair fifteen minutes later, Finn parked as close to the lift as possible. "Maybe you should call that handsome Poe bloke now, he sounds pretty capable."
Rey lifted a brow, unbuckling her seatbelt before reaching for Ben's. "I don't think I said anything about his looks when I mentioned him on the way over."
"Well, you have now, so…?"
"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes, "we could use the backup. One of the downsides of working alone, I guess." Rey slowly propped Ben up against the opposite seat, careful not to knock his head. "But after we get him inside, okay? Poe already hates me, so the last thing I need is him seeing his friend like this."
"If we must," Finn ribbed, getting out of the car to bang on the elevator call button. "And I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Did you even actually meet him?"
"Kind of? It was more of an impression, I suppose." Slipping out of the car, she came around to Ben's side and gingerly opened the door. When he didn't immediately fall out, she released a breath. "Ben?" she said softly, touching his face. "Ben, we need to get you inside."
"Mm?" he mumbled, long lashes fluttering.
"You hit your head. Can you stand?"
"I loaf you," he slurred.
"Okay, then." Rey tried to get him to focus, not taking his words to heart. "Ben, it's me, Rey."
"I knowww," he said, slowly coming around. "My woman!"
"Um, Finn, can I get a hand?"
Her brother reached into the backseat, stretching one of Ben's arms around his neck. "Hey, buddy, we need to go now."
"Go? Go where."
"Rey's room."
That seemed to perk Ben up. "Okay, I think I louvre her."
"That's nice," Finn grinned. "Get up and you can lay on Rey's nice comfy bed."
Blinking rapidly as Finn helped him stand, he seemed surprised when Rey appeared under his other arm. "We were just talking about you," he said in a stage whisper. "Your brother said I can marry you."
"Oh, uh, that's nice," she stuttered, flushing as he nuzzled her cheek.
"One thing at a time, Romeo," Finn said, trying not to crack up. "First the lift, then we can talk about love."
——————
With Finn's help, they managed to get Ben into her room without too much drama. Well, besides the minor altercation he had with the rug in the hallway.
"We're chucking this old thing out today," Rey said, bending to roll up the worn carpet. "It's a menace!"
"Just because your fiancé almost tripped—"
"La la la, I'm not listening!" Rey danced away, dropping the offending mat by the door.
"You have to admit it was pretty funny."
"No, I don't," she contradicted. "Honestly, I just hope he doesn't have a concussion."
Finn looked toward Rey's bedroom door in concern. "Does his friend have first aid training?"
"Probably? Those bodyguard types usually do." Rey pulled out her cell. "No use putting this call off any longer," she sighed. Navigating to the first contact she had added from Ben's phone, she dialed up Poe Dameron.
He picked up on the first ring, sounding harried. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Um, hey, it's the woman from last night," she started, cringing at her own intro. "I mean, uh, the one with Ben. Rey. This is Rey."
"Where is he?" Poe said shortly.
"With me, at my place," she said simply. "Listen, something's happened—"
"To Ben? Is he alright?"
Rey was actually kind of impressed by Poe's level of distress. He had seemed much colder last night. "Yeah, he hit his head during a car chase." Finn facepalmed next to her, but she ignored him. "He's conscious, though," she followed up quickly.
"He did what during a what?!" Poe yelled.
"So," she plowed on, "if you want to maybe come over, we can explain the situation to you."
Poe was silent for a few seconds. Then, "Oh, is that all? You kidnap my best friend and—"
"Hey, I did it to protect him!" she huffed. "You weren't there! You don't know what's going on! The First Order is—"
"The First Order?" he repeated seriously.
"Yes."
"I'm on my way."
"I'll text you the address."
"Thanks, Rey."
"No problem, Poe," she replied, cheered by his change of tone. Maybe he didn't hate her after all! "Damn, when did I start caring what other people think of me? What have you done to me, Ben Solo?"
——————
A/N: I just want everybody to be friends, okay?! New chapter next Friday! I can guarantee more smut with a side of angst!
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hookedontaronfics · 4 years
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A (Not So) Secret Crush - Prompt fic
Title: A (Not So) Secret Crush Pairing: Taron x Reader Rating: T Warnings: None (Just some cursing but we’re all adults here, right?) A/N: I just had so much fun writing this imagine; it really flowed from my fingertips with ease and I hope you enjoy reading this super sweet fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it! x Prompt: Could you possibly do an imagine where the reader is drunk and leaves a voicemail for taron saying that she’s falling for him? then he confronts her? SUUUUPER FLUFFY
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Here was the scene: Another Friday night at a loud bar, drinking with your friends, some who had been your mates since your RADA days, others who had been brought into the fold because they knew someone who knew someone. Either way, your group had been hosting these Friday night get-togethers for as long as you could remember, and whoever could make it showed up. The mix of friends changed time to time but the fun never stopped. 
You truly loved these people and you were grateful you had made friends for life. You’d been through every heartbreak and every victory together - new jobs, losing parents, getting engaged, getting married, getting cancer, having babies, getting promotions, losing jobs, shitty breakups, you’d seen it all together, and you’d been there for each other through thick and thin, plenty of tears and plenty of laughter.
One of your closest friends had drifted away from the group slightly, not because he didn’t care but because he was just so exceptionally busy. Taron had made quite a name for himself lately, and was constantly running the awards circuit as of late. You couldn’t help but admit you slightly envied him. Out of your entire RADA group, he’d been the most successful. Some of you still did civic theater or indie film projects, but nearly everyone had gone on to normal plebian jobs. But Taron had been incredibly talented from Day One; how he hadn’t made it into the school on his first audition was beyond you. You knew he’d go far and you were pleased to see your predictions had been right. Of course he’d always brushed you off when you’d tried to tell him that all those years ago; he was almost annoyingly humble.
Look at him now, you thought, racking up awards buzz for his latest project as Elton John, sitting there downing his pilsner and laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d decided to join your lot finally after months of half-promises or apologies, and you couldn’t help staring at his fine-cut suit… or that jawline. He’d just come from some banquet or another, you’d lost track at that point, but boy did he look fine.
You weren’t sure when the crush had started really. Maybe you’d always found him attractive, but he had been your friend so you never really dwelled on it. Plus, as gangly young adults, you all had had some growing up to do. But Taron had aged like a fine wine, and only gotten more handsome as the years passed, and so your crush had slowly become more than just a spark. But you’d never tell him that, you couldn’t. You felt like it would ruin your friendship, a friendship you both had come to rely on over the years. He’d called you in tears when he and Emily had broken up, and you’d brought over frozen pizzas and let him cry on your shoulder while they baked in the oven. That kind of friendship wasn’t worth ruining over your silly crush.
But at this moment, as the alcohol you were drinking was working its way through your system, you couldn’t help but wonder what could come of it all if you just told him the truth. You were both single at the moment now, and every time he smiled at you you felt your heart leap into your throat. It was getting kind of annoying, to be honest. Taron with those intense green eyes and that boyish grin and that hair you wanted to run your fingers through. But you never would, because you loved him too much to trip over the line and cause an irreparable rip in the fabric of your friendship.
The night wore on, and so did the drinks, shots and cocktails and a beer to chase it all down. As you were nursing your Firestone ale, Taron finally slid over on the booth next to you. The conversations had died down mostly into private talks between couples, and you’d been sitting by yourself, aware of how that branded you in your singleness.
“You shouldn’t be sitting by yourself, love,” he grinned at you, tossing an arm casually on the back of the booth behind you, but not touching you. Still, you were all too aware of his presence now. He smelled of alcohol but also vanilla and sandalwood; it was a bit heady to you, and you had to take a steadying breath before you answered him.
“Everyone decided to couple up,” you laughed, the sound too loud and bright to your own ears. “And I am definitely… uh.. Single,” you added for good measure.
“Suppose that makes two of us, eh?” he smiled gently at you. You could only nod at that.
“So, I feel completely rude in not asking what you’ve been up to these days,” he said, taking a sip of his own beer, your eyes trained on the way his mouth worked the rim of the glass and giving you a thought you instantly banished from your mind. You suddenly felt quite warm and adjusted the collar of your blouse.
“Just work, you know, the usual boring adult shit. My life is not nearly as exciting as yours, Mister I’m Winning All The Awards,” you said, giggling slightly at your own dumb joke.
“Oh please, that’s not even remotely true,” he chuckled, but you could see a bit of blush creeping up his neck. You had to admit, it didn’t look bad on him at all.
“But really, I just go to work and come home and veg in front of the telly and do hot yoga and drink with this lot and that’s about it. I guess I’m waiting for something more exciting to come along,” you shrugged slightly.
“Or someone?” he asked, turning his full gaze on you. You couldn’t decipher the meaning behind his words, though, so you just took another drink of your ale.
“I guess you could say that but who knows if that will ever happen, T. You’ve seen me go through it so many times before. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s such a thing as true love, or if life is just really about settling for someone you at least can tolerate,” you sighed heavily.
“Hey now, no reason to give up just yet,” he said, tilting your chin up to look at him. You’d hugged him many times over the years, even tackled him full-on during a friendly rugby match, but for some reason his touch on you now sent shivers down your spine.
“I’ll believe you when you find me a match,” you teased him lightly, and he chuckled.
“Alright, well, let’s start with this here bar, right now,” he smirked sideways at you as you slid down in the booth to try and hide. “Ohhh that one over there, in the chummy corduroy jacket, he’s got nice eyes. Or the biker jacket by the window, he could take you for a wild ride,” Taron snickered and you slapped him playfully on the arm.
“Taron, stop,” you said, hissing in your attempt to not laugh.
“Hey, what about Mr. Silver Suits over there, 9 o’clock?” he said, sweeping his arm over to point and accidentally knocking you in the back of the head in the process. “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry!” he said, pulling you to him and holding you tightly against his chest. You couldn’t breathe in this close proximity to him, and he must have interpreted your silence as pain. “Please tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded slightly, his alcohol breath on your cheek not unpleasant.
“I’m fine Taron, but you’re squeezing me a bit,” you laughed, as he quickly loosened his arms around you and you sat back up.
“I’ve totally gone and messed up your hair,” he said, trying to help you rearrange it, his fingers whispering slightly over your cheeks and shoulders and making you suck in your breath slightly. You were far too drunk to think about this rationally. He was drunk too, though, you realized, and couldn’t possibly be meaning anything about this.
“It’s fine, T, you’ve done enough,” you said with a smile, as he withdrew his hands and looked slightly embarrassed at himself.
“Sorry, I’m a bit drunk?” he offered, and you just laughed at him.
“Not the first time I’ve seen you pissed,” you giggled, and he grinned at you.
“This is not untrue,” he smirked. “But we should maybe call it a night?” he said, loosening his tie slightly and drawing your eyes straight to his neck, where you wanted to kiss him. Fuck, you really needed to stop thinking those things. You were going to go home to your quiet, lonely apartment, by yourself, and probably crash and sleep off your hangover. Taron was no part of that reality and the thought sobered you up a bit.
You both ordered Ubers and finished your drinks while you waited, chatting about nothing of consequence. He walked you out the door, his hand at your lower back, and made sure you got in the Uber safely.
“Text me when you get home, yeah?” he said, slurring his words only slightly.
“Of course,” you said sweetly at him as he closed the door behind you. The Uber driver was rather chatty but thankfully didn’t seem to mind that most of your replies were “uh-huh” and “yeah” and you were grateful when you got home, a small headache beginning to work its way into your brain, and also a slightly painful longing in your heart.
You had once again walked away from Taron without telling him how you felt, and tonight he’d even slightly made you feel like maybe he felt something too, the way his gaze had landed on you often when he didn’t think you were looking, the way his fingers had always found your knee under the table, the way he leaned into your shoulder when he laughed. Boy, you had it bad, and you didn’t know how to stop. Maybe you didn’t want to stop feeling this way about him, but you could never have him either.
You hopped in the shower, hoping that would calm you down, before realizing you’d completely forgotten to text Taron that you’d made it home safely. You quickly grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your dripping body, hair still full of shampoo, before pawing through the contents of your purse for your phone, where you found several <are you home yet?!> texts from Taron.
Rather than text him back this late, you just decided to call since that might be quicker in reassuring him that you were safe. He didn’t pick up the call though, and you half-imagined him crashed out on his couch, still in that suit coat, now rumpled, mouth hanging slightly open and the couch blanket tossed haphazardly over himself. The image made you smile as his voicemail beeped at you.
“Hey, Taron, it’s me. You would have known that if you’d been looking at your phone, of course. But you’re probably asleep already so… I’m just letting you know I-” you said before the phone service cut you off. You sighed and dialed again, waiting for the beep before trying again. “I made it home! Thought you should know that. Because you left me like 18 texts asking me if I was home yet. I had fun tonight with you, really. It was great to catch up. I hope we-” you rambled into the voice message before getting cut off again.
You hoped what? That you could fall in love and get married and have his babies? The thought was absolutely absurd, and you laughed out loud at how ridiculous you were being. You dialed his number one more time, hoping to leave something semi-coherent. “Hey, sorry I’m really drunk but if I don’t tell you how I feel now I never will. I think I’m falling for you and I know if this ruins our friendship I’ll forever regret it. But I just needed to tell you that, because I’ve known it for a long time. I think I love you, and I-” You were cut off again, and suddenly lost your courage too. You threw your phone on the bedside table and wished you could take that message back.
“SHIT!” you yelled out loud, standing in the puddle of water you’d left on your hardwood floor. What have I done, you thought, feeling like you might cry. Well, it was all in Taron’s hands now, really. You felt sick to your stomach as you went to finish your shower, and afterward stood staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. There was no way he could possibly feel the same about you. He probably only thought of you as a sister, nothing more. You brushed the tears away from your face and sighed before collapsing in your bed, not even bothering to dry your hair, the water soaking into your pillow as you passed out.
When your alarm went off the next morning you batted half the crap off your bedside table before finding your phone and silencing the alarm, groaning slightly at it before sitting bolt upright and opening your phone. There were no return texts, no return voicemails. Nothing at all. Maybe he was still asleep, you told yourself, though it was already nearly 11 a.m. Maybe he just didn’t know how to respond, because you sure as hell wouldn’t if he had left you messages like that. Maybe he’d just chalk it up to drunkenness and let the whole thing pass like a bad dream. Or a kidney stone. Painful, but forgettable. Because that’s exactly how you felt about yourself in that moment.
There was no way you were getting back to sleep, so you got up and went about your Saturday, tidying up your apartment, going to the grocery, chatting with your mum, watching some telly, and jumping every time your phone chimed with a text. But they were never texts from the one person you needed to hear from, and when the sun began to sink toward the horizon with still no response, your heart sank to your toes right along with it.
You slept fitfully that night, before spending Sunday as a nervous wreck, pacing your apartment and debating whether to ring him. You settled on a text message, typing it and deleting it and retyping it again. <I think we need to talk. But I just want to know you’re okay. Please text me back.> You paced some more before you finally received a text back.
<Everything’s alright, just been busy. We can talk at some point but I’ll be in the States for a while coming up so don’t hold your breath.>
“Don’t hold my breath?” you asked out loud, a wee bit shocked as it sounded rather rude, coming from someone you’d known the better part of 10 years. Someone who had cried on your damn shoulders just a few months ago. You huffed slightly and tossed your phone on the couch, staring at it and sighing. You figured the conversation would probably end up with you conceding just being drunk and an arsehole and both of you agreeing to forget it ever happened. 
But could you live with your unrequited feelings for the rest of your life? Could you stand by Taron’s side when he married another girl, knowing how you felt about him? Or would this truly be something neither of you could get over? Could you live with never talking to him again? The thought made you feel sick to your stomach; you’d rather deny your feelings for the rest of your life than lose him completely, you decided. You spent the rest of the night on the couch with a tub of ice cream, eating your feelings and trying to not so subtly ask your friend group if they’d heard anything from Taron, but no one had. At least he had kept your secret admission to himself.
Weeks passed and you didn’t hear anything from Taron. You attended the next several Friday outings with the group and even though you enjoyed your time with everyone else, the lack of Taron’s presence was a glaring hole in your mind. Don’t hold your breath, he’d said, the phrase stuck on an endless loop in your mind. It distracted you in your daily life, and even your best friend at work called you out for it. You came up with some lame excuse she saw right through, figuring it was “boy trouble” and wondering when you’d ever manage to find a decent man. 
The problem, though, was that a decent man had been right in front of you, so close to you but so far out of reach. Maybe Taron had ruined you for everyone else, you thought to yourself, laughing at that but half-wondering if it was true. No one ever measured up to the man you knew he was, the man you’d spent countless hours beating at Mario Kart, he was so laughably bad, the man who’d helped you memorize your monologues, who sent you funny gifs when he knew you were down, who always took you to lunch after a bad breakup. He knew more about your life than most anyone else.
And you’d gone and thrown it all away.
On a particularly stormy day, six weeks later, you were sitting on your living room floor, surrounded by half cut-up magazines, the scattered images of people’s faces and flowers and animals and the words you’d cut out. You were dressed in a pair of floral leggings and a white sweater, your hair up in a messy bun with a cute headband holding your bangs out of your face. You were tapping your scissors against your lips, deciding how to arrange your collage, when a loud crack of thunder made you jump, your lights flickering slightly. “Jesus,” you breathed out, your heart racing slightly before a knock sounded on your apartment door.
You almost thought you’d imagined it, not expecting anyone, when it sounded again. You quickly put the cap on the open glue bottle before unwinding your legs and standing up, stepping carefully around the scattered art. The insistent knocking came again, and you sighed. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you said even though they couldn’t hear you. It was probably just a neighbor wondering if your lights had flickered too.
You popped the door open and gasped slightly, an entirely-soaked-to-the-bone Taron standing at your door, rainwater dripping off the tip of his nose and chin, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.
“Taron!” you said in surprise, your hand still on the doorknob.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse.
“What do you mean?” you asked softly, knowing full well what he meant.
“Your voicemail that you left me. When you said you were falling for me,” he said, still dripping onto the floor outside of your apartment.
“I- … was drunk,” you started but he shook his head.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asked again, his gaze looking vulnerable and a bit tortured too.
It really was now or never, you thought to yourself. “Yes. Yes I did,” you replied, a bit faintly.
“How long have you known?” he asked, his own voice failing him slightly, cracking a bit.
“Years, Taron. But don’t stand out there, you’ll catch your death,�� you said, gesturing for him to come inside. He stepped across the threshold gingerly, awkwardly, as if he hadn’t been in your apartment before. You quickly went to get him some towels and took his sopping wet coat and did your best to wring it out in the bathtub before hanging it up to dry. You couldn’t help but hide a laugh behind your hand at his appearance; he looked like a drowned rat, but it was somehow adorable.
You sat a stack of towels on the couch so he could sit and not worry about getting it all wet but you could tell he wasn’t comfortable in the least. “Why did you never say anything to me?” he asked after a moment, as you paused in the middle of your attempt to sweep up your collage work into a tidy pile.
“I knew it would ruin our friendship. I knew it would make things awful and awkward between us, and it has,” you admitted, peering over at him. He seemed lost in thought, wrestling with something, his face an open book.
“I’ve only been awkward and distant because I … I’ve had trouble coming to terms with how I felt about you. I don’t think I’ve had nearly the same courage, drunk or not. But I’ve done some thinking, and I started to realize that, y/n, it’s really always been you. You were always there, for my smallest victories to my biggest heartbreaks. You were the one tipping back a beer with me every time I landed a role. You were the one encouraging me when I felt like I wasn’t good enough. You went shopping for my first real suit for my first real awards show back in the day,” he grinned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory with him.
“You were so nervous, it was darling,” you giggled.
“The hem! The hem!” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“All the pants were too long on you,” you giggled lightly as he gazed at you, biting his lip slightly.
“I don’t think we have to lose this at all,” he said softly. “I think we can make it even better. I at least want to try, because I fell for a girl a long time ago who’s been right in front of me all along. And I know that sounds super cliche, like one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much, but it’s true,” he said sweetly.
“They are brilliant pieces of cinema and you will never change my mind, Taron David Egerton!” you laughed, but your heart was also falling open at that moment as you heard the words you’d been wishing to hear for so long. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if this was just a dream; that’d you’d wake up tomorrow and all of this would have evaporated like mist on the wind. Before either of you could say another word, your lights went out accompanied by another loud clap of thunder, and you groaned loudly.
“Well shit,” you said, going to check the breaker box but the lights were truly out. You rummaged around under your sink and found a flashlight, flicking it on and setting it on its end so the beam of light hit the ceiling and scattered around the room, drawing weird shadows on the walls. You noticed, suddenly, that Taron was shivering quite a bit, but you weren’t sure how to solve that until you remembered you had borrowed one of his sweatshirts eons ago.
“You should get out of those wet clothes,” you said, as you went to go dig the sweatshirt out of your closet. You kept your eyes trained on the ground as you handed him a blanket and the sweatshirt, and it was enough to hear his clothes rustle as he presumably wriggled out of them, considering his jeans looked tighter than your leggings.
“I’m decent,” he chuckled once he was settled on the couch again, the blanket tucked over his lap and the sweatshirt on. He looked almost boyish now, a crooked smile on his face and his hair, which had gone fluffy as it dried, a total bedhead mess. You hung his wet clothes up on the shower rod, since the dryer wouldn’t work without power, and then sat primly on the couch next to him. He was presumably still in whatever he wore beneath his jeans, but the thought still made you blush and you were grateful for the semi-darkness now.
“So now what?” you asked quietly, feeling awkward and like you were twelve again and trying to discuss your first crush with your “bff.” Only your bff was the man you had fallen in love with.
“Oh I know how this next bit goes. You see, usually in these cheesy romcoms there’s some sort of cutesy music in the background and then the couple with all of their newly discovered attraction kisses,” Taron smirked at you, and your breath sort of caught in your throat.
“Taron, that isn’t even remotely practical!” you said, trying to laugh it off. “It’s storming like crazy outside, you’re half-naked-”
“Only half,” he interjected in a teasing manner.
“- on my couch and we don’t even know exactly how we feel about each other!” you protested, barreling through his comment.
“You so sure about that?” he asked, pulling you to him suddenly. You squeaked in surprise but didn’t pull away as his eyes searched yours for a long moment. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he said, cupping your face in his hands before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, kissing you in a way that very much could have been described as “romantic.” It opened a whole new world of feelings to you, feelings you didn’t have to pretend away anymore. You were completely head over heels for this man, and as he ran his fingers through your hair, and gazed at you in that loving way he had, you felt so totally undone but somehow put back together in all the right ways too.
You dared to kiss him back, and it was just as good the second time around, like a nice bowl of chili that warmed you all over, from the inside out. You pulled away for a moment, almost feeling shy, and settled your head against his chest instead. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, and you could hear his heart hammering away. Just knowing you were the reason for that made you smile to yourself.
Neither of you said much as you cuddled in a way you had never done. Sure, you’d laid in each others’ arms before, half-drunk or sick or sad, but this was a new level, a mutual and deep caring for each other that went further than your friendship ever had. Or maybe it really had been leading up to this all along; you both had just never seen it until now. One thing you were certain, though, was that you could never go back now. One little taste and you wanted so much more, in its time and place, of course. You had adored him from afar for so long, and now you had the chance to show him just how much.
Just then your lights clicked back on, and both of you blinked in the sudden onslaught of light at each other.
“So what happens in the dark… stays in the dark, right?” you joked lightly, sitting up again and noticing that the blanket on his lap had shifted rather low. Your face went completely red then, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, my dear, there’s no keeping us in the dark any longer,” he said, kissing you again but with gusto this time. You melted into him again, letting the rush of feelings wash through you, but neither of you let it go too far. There would be time enough for that in the future, a future that stretched out long ahead of you.
“I thought I would forever regret that voicemail but now it’s the single best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” you smiled at him as he sweetly brushed his thumb over your lips.
“I’ve listened to it every day since, just to make sure it was real and I hadn’t imagined it,” he said cutely. “I mean yes, I was confused and maybe even a little angry at first but mostly at myself for not seeing it sooner, for not admitting it sooner. For wasting so much time,” he said, his eyes so soft and light despite the harsh glare of your lamps.
“Time spent with you, even as just your friend, was never a waste to me,” you said quickly, squeezing his hand. “I’m just lucky, and grateful, for this now.”
“As am I,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a sweet kiss there.
“And Taron, I’ll be sure to leave you more voicemails in the future,” you said cheekily, your heart feeling so full of promise.
“I shall count on it,” he grinned back, and you would forever be able to lose yourself in that gaze. “But the best voicemail of all, was the one that brought us together.”
You nodded in agreement and sighed softly. “The one we’ll never forget.”
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Text
can’t sleep | roger taylor
Summary: on a plane ride with Queen, you and your boyfriend Roger can’t sleep, so you come up with another activity to fill the time.
Warnings: it’s not too raunchy but it’s still smut, includes touching, fingering
Pairing: Roger Taylor or Ben!Roger (whichever you prefer) and fem reader
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You looked at the clock on the table next to the couch you were sitting on; it read 12:17 am. Not much had changed since you checked the clock two minutes ago, but you couldn’t stop looking, reminding yourself how much sleep you weren’t getting.
You were travelling with your boyfriend, Roger, and his band Queen, headed from London all the way to the states for a tour. You’d joined them on many tours and watched them grow, from the days they had to travel by a run down van, all the way to today, in their own private plane. You were so happy and proud of them, and were always happy to accompany them, but this flight was unbearable, and your lack of sleep wasn’t helping.
You turned to lean your head on Roger’s shoulder. “Are you asleep?” His eyes remained closed, but he shook his head no. 
“Can’t sleep?” He murmured softly. You shook your head against his shoulder.
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” He rubbed his eyes for a few moments before opening them and looking down at you. You were both in your pajamas, which really meant you were wearing one of Rog’s shirts like a dress, and he was in sweats with no shirt, a blanket draped across both your laps.
Roger removed his arm from his side and laid it across your shoulders, you nuzzling your head on his chest. “Do you want to watch the telly?”
“No,”
“Do you want to try to sleep again?” 
“No.” Roger laughed softly.
“Well, those are about your only two options.” You looked around the space; John was sound asleep on the couch down the hall, and Freddie and Brian were out of sight; probably on the other side of the wall in the kitchen drinking or sleeping in Freddie’s room.
Suddenly, an idea popped in your devious mind, that you knew Roger would go along with. “There’s not only two options.”
“What else have you got?” You rustled under the blanket, patting his lap, trying to find his right hand.
“Where’s your hand?” He placed his hand on top of yours. You grabbed his wrist and gently pulled his hand across his lap and set it down on the inside of your thigh, then looking up at him, batting your eyelashes.
“Hm, I’m not sure what it is you’re wanting, love.” A smirk was already present on his lips.
“You know.” You whispered, as he began tracing circles with his thumb on the inside of your thigh.
“I’m not sure I do. You’ll have to tell me,” You giggled and averted his gaze, already blushing. You knew he loved that you were too shy to tell him what you wanted, giving him ample time to tease you.
He removed his hand from under the blanket and took your chin between his thumb and his index finger, turning your face back in his direction. “Tell me exactly what you want.” 
“I want you to...” You started, confidence dying before you could finish. Roger put his hand back under the blanket and ran his fingertips over your thigh.
“You want me to, what? Touch you?” He placed his palm flat on the inside of your thigh, giving it a small squeeze. “Here?”
You gave his hand a push to the left, his fingers grazing your folds through your panties, staring in his blue eyes all the while. “Here.”
“What do you want me to do to you here?” He gently ran his thumb along your clit, causing you to almost instinctively lift one foot on the couch, spreading your legs as far apart as they could fall.
“I want you to rub-” 
“Rub what? You want me to rub this pretty pussy of yours?” You whimpered at the ache his teasing caused on your needy clit. 
“Please.” He slipped his hand inside your panties and began slowly rubbing your clit, you leaning your head back on the couch, biting your lip. He left wet kisses on your collarbones as you melted beneath him. 
“Faster,” You gasped, already out of breath. You rolled your head to the side to find Roger already staring at you.
“What do you want faster?” 
“Rub... rub my pussy faster.” He immediately granted your wish, jumping from a tantalizingly slow speed to as fast as his fingers could rub. 
You let out a loud moan from the increase in pleasure. Roger reached around your face with his left hand, arm still draped across your shoulders, and covered your mouth. “Have to be quiet for me, okay, love? Can’t have the rest of the band knowing I’m making you cum on our couch, can we?” 
As Roger continued, you only let out the softest whimpers, that were then muffled by his hand. You squirmed at the sensation of his fingers applying pressure on your clit just right, rubbing in perfect circles. With each passing second, you felt pressure building inside of you; your twitching legs and wetness dripping onto your thighs were a physical indication that you were close.
“Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispered in your ear. You reached up to remove his hand from your mouth.
“Yes.” You whispered. He leaned forward into your neck and gently kissed you, lifting his hand off your clit suddenly. You let out a soft whimper at the lack of contact.
“Don’t stop, please.” You begged him. He laughed into your neck.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” He slowly slipped his middle finger inside of you, curling it just right, slowly pumping against your g-spot. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood to suppress the groan that sat in the back of your throat. 
“Fuck,” You let out with a breath, Roger grazing his fingers over your lips as a gentle reminder to stay quiet. You grabbed his thumb and wrapped your tongue around it, sucking lightly with your eyes closed. 
“Naughty girl,” He whispered as he continued his work on your neck, picking a spot below your jawline and sucking hard enough to leave a mark for you to cover in the morning. He added a second finger to the mix, pumping faster and harder, hitting your g-spot all the while. 
“I’ll let you cum for me this time, if you want.” He offered, only pausing sucking on your neck long enough to speak.
“Yes, please.” You begged, your lips still wrapped around his thumb. He put his other thumb to work, too, now rubbing your clit while he continued to articulately finger you. You grabbed onto his wrist and dug your nails into him, wanting so badly to scream his name and let him know how good he was making you feel.
“Rog, I’m so close.” 
“Let go, baby. Cum for me.” You felt your walls spasm around his fingers as you climaxed, a loud whimper escaping your lips, not caring in that moment who heard you. Roger continued his handwork until you completely came down from your bliss, kissing the bruised marks on your neck he made. 
You wrapped your hand around the back of Roger’s neck and pulled him into a sloppy kiss, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and graze over your lips. “That was way better than watching the telly or sleeping.” 
“Agreed.” 
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jessahmewren · 4 years
Text
“Four Eyes,” Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction/ Poly!Queen Week Day Two: Glasses
Summary: Roger needs glasses, but getting him to wear them takes some convincing.  
Rating E: Everyone be aware here be smut
Pairing: It’s poly week ya’ll
Words 1970
Also on Ao3
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“Darling, if you bounce your leg any harder, you’re going to drill a hole though the bloody floor.”
Roger huffed, tensing even as Freddie placed a calming hand on his thigh.  His appointment was at 2:30.  It was 2:15.
Brian was flipping through a magazine while John ticked boxes on the extensive new patient paperwork that Roger had refused to do.  Among the four of them, they filled nearly every chair in the tiny waiting room of the optometrist’s office.
“Double vision?”  John asked softly.  The pencil hovered over the page, awaiting Roger’s answer.
“No,” he ground out.
“He just can’t see things far away I think,” Freddie added, a soothing hand on the seething blond’s back.
“Or close up,” Brian piped up.  “What about the sheet music from practice the other day?  Poor dear played all the wrong notes.”
Roger shirked off Freddie’s hand, twisting in his seat to face Brian.  “Would you stop talking about me like I’m not bloody here?  There’s nothing wrong with my eyes!  Besides, you don’t need the sheet music when you know all the songs.”  He held his head in frustration.  “This whole business has given me the worst headache.”
John tapped the pencil against his teeth, searching the symptom sheet for headaches and quietly checking it.
Freddie sighed.  “Well you’re here anyway, darling.  If you’ve got perfect vision, like you say, you might as well prove us wrong, yeah?”
Roger perked up.  “I ‘spose.”  He still looked rather sullen despite his victory.
John completed the paperwork and handed it off to Brian to check it. Then, a nurse came to the door and called Roger’s name.
Roger looked up in sheer terror, actually frozen to the spot.  “I changed my mind,” he muttered.
The nurse just blinked at him, not really understanding, until Freddie met her at the door.
“Would it be ok if we all went back there with him?  It’s his first time, you see, and he’s terrified.”
The nurse frowned, surveying Roger’s extensive support group.  “It’s awfully small back there.  Some of you will have to stand and you’ll have to take care not to get in the doctor’s way.”
Freddie nodded, smiling.  “We’ll be on our best behavior, dear.”
They ushered Roger into a room with a high exam chair and charts on the wall.  Indeed the room was small, with one guest chair that the boys didn’t bother quibbling over; they just huddled together in the far corner.
Brian looked at Roger sitting in the exam chair, his hands gripping the armrests nervously.  “How are you doing love?”
“Fine,” he gritted out.  He had calmed some, at least, warming to the idea of proving them wrong, but his white coat syndrome was in full effect.
“It will all be over soon,” John said comfortingly.  “Just do everything the doctor says.”
Roger chewed his lip, but said nothing.
The door swung open and a kindly-looking older doctor came in holding a chart with Roger’s information on it.  He greeted Roger and then acknowledged the boys.  “My, I’m not used to doing this with an audience,” he said good-naturedly.
“He was nervous,” Freddie said in explanation.  “We won’t get in the way.”
The doctor laughed.  “That’s quiet alright.”  Then, he turned his attention to the patient.
“Well Roger, what brings you in to see me today?”
Roger pursed his lips.  “My mates seem to think I have a vision problem, but I don’t think so.”
The doctor nodded.  “Well we’ll find out today, won’t we?”
Roger pressed his lips together in something resembling a smile as the doctor turned off the lights and projected an eye chart on the wall.  He asked Roger to read to the smallest line, and then made some notes in the chart he brought.
Brian whispered to the others.  “Is it just me or did he not read that far down?”
“No no I don’t think he did that well at all.  I mean are these type of tests pass or fail?  How does this work?”
The doctor laughed, overhearing their conversation.  “They’re not pass or fail, gents.  Vision isn’t measured like that.”
The doctor then adjusted a large apparatus and put it up to Roger’s face.  He could see a lot better through holes, and could suddenly read the tiny lines on the chart.  The doctor spent some time with him, adjusting dials on the eye piece, asking if things were better or worse, and looking into his eyes with a bright light.
Finally, the doctor took the eye piece away and made his final notes.  “Now Roger,” he began gently, “you didn’t make any bets with your friends, did you?”
Roger looked at the doctor strangely, not understanding.
“Because son, you definitely need glasses.”
---
When Roger’s glasses came in, he refused to wear them.
He wouldn’t wear them after Brian offered to cook him his favorite foods, or after Freddie’s sweet little love note reminders, or after John’s stern but well-meant warnings of headaches, or after they all revoked the van keys.  He just wouldn’t wear them.
They were all bundled up on the couch one Saturday watching the telly.  Roger was curled up in the middle of the fray, head on John’s shoulder as he watched the program.
“That lady is almost as blonde as me,” he murmured sleepily.
Confused glances were traded between the three boys as Roger lounged, unconcerned with the statement.  Freddie got up in a huff, returning with glasses case.
“For fuck’s sake, Roger, that’s a Golden Retriever.”  He held out the case.  “Would you put these on please?”
Roger looked up at him, mouth slightly open.  “No,” he finally said.
Brian pleaded with him.  “But why darling?  Please tell us why you won’t wear something that will help you?”
Roger looked down, thick lashes dusting the apples of his cheeks.  “I’ve had glasses before,” he murmured.
John’s eyebrows raised.  “When you were a kid?”
Roger nodded tightly.  “They made fun of me.  Called me ‘four eyes’ and other ugly names.  I wore them that first day and never wore them again.”
Freddie frowned, a hand going up to caress his face.  “Oh darling, that must’ve been terrible for you.”
Roger leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.
“No wonder you don’t want to wear them,” John said quietly.  He held the glasses in his hand.  He opened the case and slipped them onto Roger’s face.  “But it’s a shame because they make you look so beautiful.”
Brian brushed the hair back from his face.  “Sexy is the word, John.  They make him look sexy.”
“Mmm, you’re right Brian,” John said as he watched the blush rise in Roger’s face.  Indeed they did make him look sexy, like a fuckable professor, the lens seeming to magnify those beautiful blue eyes.
“You’re just saying that,” Roger muttered, reaching up to take off the glasses.
“Darling, you do that and this stops,” Freddie said smoothly as his hand trailed down Roger’s abdomen, stopping just short of his cock.
Roger sucked in a whine, arching into his touch.
“Are you going to wear them Roger?” John asked him firmly.  “Are you going to be good?”
John tipped his chin up, and Roger’s tongue snaked out to wet his lips.
“Yes,” he almost panted.  “I want to be good.”
Brian dropped a kiss onto his head.  “That’s more like it love.”
He rose, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch onto the floor.  “Come down here.  Let us take care of you.”
John pulled Roger into a firm embrace, helping him down onto the floor.  Freddie was already there to catch him, and John eased him down between them.  Hands roved over his body almost immediately, making him feel warm, possessed, and loved.
John claimed his lips, his tongue sliding in easily to find the wet heat of his mouth.  “I love you in these,” he said huskily, fingering the frame of the glasses with a long, delicate finger.  “I don’t want you to ever take them off.”  Roger blinked back at him with large eyes, Brian stroking his sides in smooth patterns and Freddie growing hard against him.
Then, Brian was kissing him.  He knew it was Brian because of how slow and deliberate it was, the little flicks of tongue against his neck, the small scrapes of teeth; Brian took his time, always, when the others were always rushed.  Brian murmured something against his neck.
“So beautiful,” he said again.  “No one should have ever called you those names, my love.  Not ever.”
Hot tears wet Roger’s cheeks and Freddie kissed them away, his soft lips finding his mouth as John’s clever hands undressed him, leaving trails of kisses in his wake.  Roger moaned, hungrily seeking Freddie’s mouth again, any mouth, his need rising with every moment he went without.
“Do you need to be reminded of how lovely you are?” Freddie purred as he pushed Roger back against John and Brian.  “We can do that,” he said sweetly as his mouth descended on Roger.
Roger’s entire body jerked, but smooth hands held him firmly in place.  John silked his hair, long fingers tugging the strands none to gently.  “You said you were going to be good.”
Freddie’s mouth on him felt incredible.  Roger was choking on saliva and every nerve ending was on fire.  Still, he found the wherewithal to answer.  “I am,” he sputtered.  “I mean I will.”
Freddie backed off him, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head before taking him down even further, and Roger moaned loudly.  John tightened his grip on him, a hand sneaking down to tease a nipple.
“You need something in your mouth baby?”  Brian’s voice had a rough edge to it, and Roger looked up and he was smiling down at him.
John hummed.  “Good idea Bri.  Keep him quiet for us.  Help him be good.”
Roger whined, looking up over his glasses as Brian settled over him, stuffing his mouth.
Brian fucked into Roger in short, slow strokes, careful not to knock his glasses off.  He leaned over Roger’s head to steal a kiss from John, licking his tongue into his mouth in time with his thrusts.
Roger grunted beneath him, feeling his orgasm creeping up his spine.  A thread of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his cheeks were flushed pink.  His glasses had begun to fog and he could barely see.
His nails dug into Brian’s thighs, tears streaming down his face.
“Love you like this Roggie,” Brian grunted.  “I’m close love.”
Roger hummed, his limbs tensing.  His whole body felt hot, fire sparking in his blood, and the feel of Brian filling his mouth was making him lightheaded.
John leaned forward, claiming Brian’s mouth. His hands sank into the dark curls as he peppered Brian’s face with kisses.
Brian suddenly pulled away from them, going up on his knees just before spilling into Roger’s face.
It pushed Roger over the edge.  His orgasm hit him with a blinding force, sending him arching into Freddie’s mouth.
Brian pulled Roger to him while John returned with a warm washcloth.  He cleaned his face, then took the soiled glasses and wiped them down.  He tutted.  “You just had to make a mess of him, didn’t you Brimi?”
Freddie sighed, pulling the blanket up around them.  Brian smiled sheepishly, resting his forehead on Roger’s shoulder.  “It’s not fun until you make a mess.”
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