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dollypopup · 11 months ago

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fuck it, gonna do it myself since the showrunners refuse to

Colin Bridgerton Background and Headcanons

+Colin was a chubby child, but became super lanky around his pre-teens, just before he went to Eton

+He would play piano with Francesca for Mum. He always wanted to play and sing for Papa, too, but Edmund was usually with Anthony and Benedict. Still, he and Fran would sit on the shorter velvet cushion so they could reach the pedals, and they would take turns singing silly made up songs, or church hymns

+Because of his age, he was always excluded from the 'Boys' club of the family. At ten years younger than his older brothers, and not an Heir OR the Spare, this is when he started getting particularly close with his sisters, El, Daph, and Fran. He and Daphne were almost inseparable growing up.

+Colin got SEVERAL makeovers from his sisters. They always said he was just as pretty as they were, and powdered him with too much blush, bribing him with extra snacks if he wore one of their dresses. He did, of course. Those Tea Parties were fancy affairs, after all. Once, Eloise tried to braid his hair for it, too, but it was just too short

+Of all his siblings, Colin is the only one Papa ever punished physically. After Colin hit Eloise and Papa saw, he horsewhipped him in the stable. Colin is a boy, soon to be a man, Papa said, he should never lay a hand on a lady, *any* lady. Colin wonders why he cannot hit a lady, but anyone can hit him. It's the start of his hero complex and his martyr streak, too. He does not matter in the scenario, others do. He can get hurt, but others cannot.

+It's not three months after Edmund dies that Colin is sent to Eton. He's the only boy in their entire family to ever go there, and the prestige of Oxford was just unnecessarily for a third son. The funds were already put aside, Colin's traveling trunk packed, and the first year paid out. He had no choice. As a lanky, scrawny, barely 5 feet tall 12 year old boy, Colin leaves everything he has ever known behind to mourn in private, on his own, far from anything familiar

+Eton has. . .to say problems would be an understatement. Colin is under the tutelage of the harshest superintendent of the century for only one year toward the end, but it is far more than enough. The treatment is horrible. (look it up, this is historically accurate!). 'Flogging Fridays' were so harrowing, the uprisings by the students ended in stalemates and fury. In that last year, Colin had long hit his growth spurt, and resented a bully deep, *deep* in his bones. In his last year at Eton, Colin broke so many windows in the uprising that for days after, he was picking glass shards out from his clothes

+His first year at Eton was hard. Colin was small and alone and had no one in his corner. He made friends with some others, but for the most part, he was an easy target for the older boys to pick on. His name couldn't shield him from that. Being so small, even when he tried to fight back, he wasn't very successful, and most times, they would report him for violence anyway, so his choices were two fold- sit down and take it, or square up

+Colin learns to box at Eton. It isn't encouraged, surely, but one of his classmates noticed how Colin was very much not having a good time and put two and two together. He was older, a bit fatherly, almost, even though he wasn't even 18, yet. It was his last year so he was less concerned with doing things as the world expected it. Colin followed him around like a little duckling. Everywhere James went, Colin went. They sat with each other to eat dinner, then would sneak off to spar and train. He was Colin's first crush. He never told anyone, but he *is* grateful

+When Colin comes home for the first time, he *knows* everything is different. There's already a rift forming. Colin becomes a haunt in the hallway, only there in the summers and for holiday breaks. Colin becomes a ghost, half seen, wandering Aubrey Hall. Mama is over the moon, of course, as over the moon she can be still deep in grief, as is Daphne, but Fran is quieter, now, and Eloise turns away from him, frustrated at his freedoms when she gets none. Anthony has no time for him, save to ask if his studies are well, and Benedict is busy taking care of the babs

+Colin's favorite place to be when he was home was with Hyacinth. He'd sneak into the nursery and gently hold her. Though there were nurses, Colin was there so often, they swore she never cried. The truth was, Hy cried often, but Colin would notice the signs and comfort her. It made him feel better, to know there was something in this world that might need him. No one else needed him. Not Mama, not his sisters, certainly not his brothers. So, he rocks the baby sister he barely knows, and he sings her lullabies, and he cries with her, sometimes, and he's just a little less alone

+He's 14 by the time he finally starts gaining height. A late bloomer, a professor or two teases. They thought it would never come, really. He'd been a been pole for as long as anyone could remember, ever since he turned 6, but all of a sudden, he looked almost skeletal. Shooting up near an entire foot was awful. For a lot of people in his life, this was the first they'd seen him be openly miserable and snappish. Sore and frustrated, Colin had the shortest fuse he'd ever had. Oh, he had a temper. Always did. But he typically knew how to reign it in. During his growing pains, it was impossible. This is the manifest of him not sharing his food- he was constantly ravenous, and lord help anyone trying to get between him and his plate

+Colin first meets Penelope when he's 16, filled out and coming into his own, an insta-crush for Penelope, but for Colin? First thing he thought after her bonnet knocked him off his horse is that she looked like a peach. All round and pink and in her yellow dress. Colin likes peaches. So Colin likes her. It was simple as that for him

+He never got into Eloise's rivalry about Penelope. Honestly, he didn't think about her very often. Penelope seemed sweet, but she was near silent. Eloise would tell him that she wasn't that way with her, as though bragging, and Colin just shrugged. He didn't have any real interest or investment in their friendship, but he did try to be polite. The one time, Penelope stood in front of him and tried to say something for an entire minute, only to squeak and thrust out a book at him, turning tail and making off. He found it surprisingly funny. She opened up to him slowly, got more comfortable in increments, but he thinks back to that moment and remembers that she's come a long way. Would be nice to see where they end up (forshadowinggggg)

+Colin doesn't like to drink. Never carried a torch for the taste, really, but other men did it, and only in drinking did they seem to have any semblance of closeness. Colin tries it for himself. It never really works out

+Charm becomes a second skin to hide himself in. Deflecting questions to other people, remembering details about them and bringing them up, asking questions and using humor. Funny how humor lands so much easier, now. At Eton, he had no protection. (No wonder he despises a bully) But now, he was grown. Now, he was a 'man'. A conventionally attractive man (he can't really deny it). He's tall and he's finally started filling out broad and big, and he uses it to his advantage. When he talks, in his mind, somewhere, he's still that 5 foot tall boy, crying in the carriage to an unfamiliar place or grinning and bearing it his first year at school. But this time, he has a cloak to wrap around himself. This time, yes, he's softhearted and tender, but he is also beautiful and knows how to focus on someone else, and he uses it to his advantage.

+Colin understands this privilege, because for a time, he knew what it was like without it. Colin sees what happens to those who do not have it, also. For Colin, charm is the sprinkle of honey over his bitter fears and concerns. For Colin, charm is the fun party hat everyone gets to see- not that he's sad, not that he's conflicted, not that he's unsure. He's pretty. That's enough for them

+But it isn't enough for HIM. Colin grapples with his purpose because the idea that he should be content to be attractive and well off and nothing else sits unpleasantly with him. Colin wants to be a self-made man, but he is denied the opportunity. So he tries to navigate the world as it is around him, having been pre-molded and determined to a certain outcome.

+So, Colin's arc is about becoming a Man, but he is not a conventional one, so he works from example. What do Men do? Colin certainly didn't have his father to inform him, so he relies on the other men around him. Well. . .Men visit brothels and have mistresses and drink whiskey and go to clubs, but Colin doesn't want to go to a brothel, and he doesn't desire a mistress, and whiskey burns when it goes down, acrid as the smoke thick and smoggy in the clubs. So. . .what else? Well, Men get married. Men take care of a family. Men are educated.

he can do THAT

+Colin attempts to marry in Season 1 not because he is fully infatuated (he likes Marina, sure, but his eagerness is not just rooted in such) but because he is attempting to find purpose. To find meaning. To be a Man, a GOOD man. And Good Men are married, so Colin will be married. Good Men take care of their family, so Colin takes care of his family, so Colin offers to BE her family. But because these are rooted in aimless endeavors (Colin wants to be A man, but not THE man he envisions for himself), they fall apart. Now, Penelope certainly has a hand in it falling to pieces, but Colin didn't really have the right motivations to start off with, so in season 2. . .

+He's depressed. It's odd to me that others would describe season 2 as an arc in which Colin is successful. The entire time, he is in a deep depression. Colin partakes in drugs, specifically to not think about the world, or to find peace and comfort. Colin claims that no one wants to hear his stories, even if he thinks he did everything right by traveling. (Remarkable. . .yes, in the sense that I have many remarks of it). Colin drinks even though he clearly hates it, gets migraines, hangovers, grimaces at the taste, because he is looking for ESCAPE

+But Colin cannot escape. Even on a different continent, even having run, there is no where to go. His escape is not from the ton, and not even necessarily from reality, but from his own insecurities. From what he feels are his inadequacies. Good Men are married, but in Colin's mind, he abandoned Marina. Good Men take care of their family, and Colin left his. Good Men are educated, and Colin is tripping on shrooms in the middle of Cyprus, looking at the stars, wondering what he's meant to do with himself. Colin's desires to escape are deeply rooted, but Colin doesn't want to escape a PLACE. He's done that for a long time. No, Colin wants to escape a PERSON. Himself. The himself he knows himself as

+So, instead, it's easier to be someone else. Himself is messy and sensitive and needs to rehearse what he says. Himself doesn't ever say the right thing (doesn't know how) and is boring to everyone else, besides. Himself is too painful, so it's easier to be Charming Colin. Helpful Colin. Colin taking down a scheme. Colin providing for others. Because he does not matter in it. They do.

+But he DOES. Season 3 sees Colin masquerading. Successfully, of course, but nonetheless. He's half settled into himself and half settled into the persona. When Penelope gives him the cold shoulder with no explanation? Persona. When Eloise avoids him? Persona. When Fran is getting trussed up like a calf for auction on the marriage mart? Persona. Colin spends so much of his life trying to be someone else

+And then he finds out Penelope is Whistledown, and the betrayal of it rips all his talent from him. He can no longer be Happy Colin, Smiling Colin, Here, I'll Help Colin- no, now he is just angry. Sad. Upset. Hurt. Conflicted. He can only be COLIN, and he does not want her to see. Does not want her to reveal it to everyone else, that the man they saw was a sham, that deep down, he is still that boy, that boy Marina said he was, that boy chasing dreams and fantasies, that boy curled up in the cupboard, sobbing about losing his dad, that empty, hollow boy, able to offer up nothing but charm

+But they will see. She will see. And he will see, too. Just who Colin really is. Just who he can be. And just how full and rich and wonderful the reality really is, mess and all

#colin bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #bridgerton season 3 #eloise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #violet bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #if you want it done you gotta do it yourself i guess #[cue mom voice]#no one helps me in this house #anyway hi yes it's me your resident colin fan feral for more of his content #i would say the water's just fine but girl we are STRUGGLING out here #penelope is his mess but he's ours and i love all of it

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slightlysadfilter · 11 months ago

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So Saltburn: a story of obsession and control

Warning: spoilers ahead

You bet I'm gonna dissect this mfing movie. It left me scarred at 3 am on a workday so here I am, giving my own personal interpretation. Enjoy!

So as I've anticipated, I think the entirety of the movie is a battle between obsession and control. Specifically, Oliver's need to control everything and anyone, and his very clear obsession with Felix. But how does it unfold? And are the two conciliatory, or is Oliver a walking oxymoron? Why does he fuck a grave? We'll get to that.

Part I: Obsession.

We know nothing of Oliver's past. We come to know, very shockingly, that he has a peaceful-looking family, in an alright neighbourhood. The only hint we might've been given about his past behaviour is how his mother immediately tries to soothe the situation when he refuses lunch and wants to leave. But still, too little, so for the purpose of this dissection, Oliver starts with Oxford.

I believe that, at the beginning of the movie, Oliver is more inclined towards obsession. He picks his god (Felix) and yearns to please him. Still, we also notice his need to control very early (actually we do at the end, but yk, early). The control aspect is apparent in his manipulations, this new reality he carefully crafts, but all of it is to appeal to Felix. "He's a scholarship guy who buys clothes from Oxfam", he clearly doesn't want to be that. He doesn't want to be part of the equation-spurting loner group, to be a kid from a boringly simple family and a modest, row-house neighbourhood.

He needs to appeal to Felix, so he takes control of everything. Here, obsession and control go hand in hand. The only reason Oliver is doing what he's doing, is to feel seen by his god. To seat at the "olympus" table with all the trendy, rich kids and their godly-like aura. He threads slowly at first: he knows he can't become them, so he plays the poor-guy part. Crappy family, no money, but still so, so generous and ready to listen. His god is surely pleased; not only that, Felix feels protective of him. He's gained a spot in paradise, albeit due to someone else. Then he makes a mistake, he gets too comfortable and lets too much of his desire of perfection slip. Felix gets annoyed and he's kicked out of heaven. Therefore, more manipulation, more offerings: oh no my dad is dead. Please Felix notice me again, make my tragic story part of your entertainment, let me in again to delight you further.

And so he does.

Part II: Control.

It is a gradual event, control eclipsing Oliver's obsession. For a while, the two co-exist almost equally.

It is very subtle at first. He appears shy, but he's not: I reckon runny eggs don't really make him sick. But he gets to order someone around and he surely takes the chance. For the first time, the reality he's crafted doesn't only need to appease a "superior being" but also, himself.

Then, we have Venetia. It's the first time we clearly see what a little of control does to him, his first true sliding through the cracks of Saltburn like termites. Control is a high for Oliver, fusing with arousal. He likes telling her what to do, to share his excitement and make her do his bidding with it. And still, he is entertaining someone: he's the guy who doesn't cower around period blood and actually plays with it. He's stepped up, but he's still surrounded by higher beings.

Of course, we can also see how obsession remains in how he, uhm, slurps some delicious bathwater and also readily denies having anything to do with Venetia. Felix is still his god after all, and the fake reality exists to appease him. Not Venetia. She gets thrown to the side.

Then, Farleigh, who is actively trying to sabotage him. He wants him gone, he looks down on him, he likes to remind Oliver just how ephemeral he is at Saltburn. They already had moments of tension at Oxford, but now it's pathological: Farleigh is a risk of getting kicked out again. And so again, Oliver deals with it through arousal. Being able to bend him to his will is exciting, control is exciting. He's getting a better taste.

Then, the tragedy. Felix finds out about all the lies. Oliver's god is enraged, outraged. He's still in paradise, but on borrowed time and clearly unwanted. But the worst of it all: Oliver's object of obsession can never, ever accept his offerings again. His entertainment. Though he tries to salvage it, it's gone, the sparkle; and he's been getting skilled at control. So the night of the party, last night in heaven, he kills his god. If he can't please him, he'll conquer him. If he can't obsess over him, he'll take his place. (the symbolism is also very strong in this one!!! Felix having wings, and Oliver antlers to represent horns, or perhaps just earthly beings.)

So why does he fuck a grave? Quite simply, in my humble opinion, he's weeping the death of his god and getting aroused by his conquest at the same time. That's what I mean when I say he's a paradoxical character, and the conflicting nature of him is more prominent in this scene than in any other.

Now that Felix is gone, the road is easy. He's taken one of the highest spots and he wants more. Farleigh? Gone. Venetia? Disposed of. The plan halts upon the father's ultimatum (who, though apparently soft, is still head of this paradise) but when he dies, it is back in motion. The mother is too trusting, too desperate for a friendly face. Oliver is now the one with power over her, it's so easy to kick her out. Her slow assassination is partially merciful, partially ecstatic for Oliver, once again. But he's won, he has complete control (and so, he thankfully doesn't fuck her comatose body.)

His crafted reality is now real. He does not only belong to paradise, he runs it. He has become the god he's killed, and his last funky dance shows how control has definitely taken over obsession. No need for that, he sits at the top.

#saltburn #jacob elordi #barry keoghan

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countessofravenclaw · 1 month ago

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I love throwing some uninteinal shade on German Castillo's face, when he is faced by his "peer" millionaires on parenting your child matters...

“How has Nina adjusted to the new house? This is quite a different area from where you used to live.”

“I think she has adjusted fine.” Ana answered. “This is an extremely nice area. If I could have, we would have always lived here.”

“It is extremely nice,” Isla nodded, “Properties here had grown in value immensely in the last ten years and so has the demand. We were so lucky that we were able to secure a few investment properties from around here a while ago…and I am gonna stop now before we get too far back into work talk. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here and Nina will most likely like it. The rink and everything is so close now.”

“She has been happy about that, because she loves to complain about being picked up.” Ana nodded, “Blake is a little far away now, but that was solved quite easily as well, so everything sorted themselves out.”

“Gastón was so happy when he could drive her.” Marco noted.

“Oh yes,” German decided to join back in the conversation. “How long has that boy had a driver’s license?”

“Little over six months now.” Marco responded. “He took the test a day after his birthday, and passed it on the first try too.”

“Not that we thought he wouldn’t have.” Isla added, “He is so smart, so driving isn’t something he couldn’t have handled.”

“Don’t you think that a 17 is a little young for a child to start driving on dangerous roads…”

“Not really.” Marco shook his head, “I got my license when I was 17. It was much more convenient that Gastón would be able to drive himself to school and everything as soon as it was possible.”

“I see.” German nodded. “I do have to note, I wasn’t aware of him before he showed up at my door.”

“We know that you didn’t know.” Isla answered apointently. “We don’t talk about him, on purpose.”

“We have always wanted him to grow up and have his own life.” Marco nodded, “He was four when we moved here and had no idea what future had in store for us. More he is out of the limelight while being a child, the better.”

“Honestly we think we should only come out with the truth after he is done with college and everything.” Isla squeezed his hand.

“Does he have any options yet?” Ana asked. “I don’t think Nina has said anything.”

“A few. He’s probably gonna pursue engineering of some sort.” Marco looked at Isla. ��Taking after Tomas. School wise, there is concrete yet. He is one of the top at Blake, so most of the universities’ doors will be wide open to him, which is amazing honestly. It’s what we have always wanted for him.”

“We never got that choice ourselves,” Isla shook her head, “We went where we were able and we made that work. But Gastón, we are able to send him anywhere he wants to go. We kind of hope actually that he would get excited about going to Oxford. It would be far, but an amazing opportunity for him.”

“But we’ll see, there are a lot of conversations still to be had about this.” Marcon brushed some hair off Isla’s shoulder. “It’s his decision at the end of the day, and we would never try to stop him from doing what he wants, no matter what we want for him.”

“I don’t know what kind of people would want to prevent or forbid their children from doing what they are truly passionate about.” Isla shook her head, while German shifted uncomfortably—not that anyone noticed. “There is something seriously wrong with people like that.”

“I agree.” German nodded slowly, “But sometimes the children don’t know what’s best for them.”

“He won’t be a child much longer,” Marco remarked, “We only have about five months or so.”

“so much has changed to remind us that he is growing us so fast. Now with college looming and—” Isla nodded, before looking at Ana. “—and a girlfriend. I still can’t believe that you knew, and didn’t tell me.”

“We hadn’t talked in years, when I found out that Nina is after Gastón, who was your son. I only realized it when I saw him.”

“Okay, that is fair.” Isla shook her head laughing. “But you at leats knew, we had to gauge it out of Gastón, that he was seeing someone.”

“BUt was starting to be pretty obvious.” Marco added. “He started asking questions that he never would have wanted to know answers otherwise.”

“It was impossible to ignore the completely new light in his eyes.” Isla continued, while glancing at Marco, “got his eyes from his father, they can’t hide anything. It is clearly something special that they have. And just put it out there…we are paying for the wedding, when we get there someday.”

German started coughing. “Don’t you think it's a little too early to speak of things like that?”

“Obviously I would be years away.” Marcon stated, before looking at Isla, “But we do have quite an optimistic view on true love.”

“They are children, we can’t really speak of love, can we?” German laughed awkwardly.

“Who knows,” Isla shrugged, “We don’t really think it depends on the age. Everyone is different.”

#soy luna #gastina #soy luna fanfiction #violetta #Sure...we all know how Germna never forbidded Violetta form following her passions #He would ever do that; would he?

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khodorkovskaya · 1 year ago

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im a terrible friend and it's eating me from the inside

so there's this festival thing this weekend. like a big event by the lake with live music and everything. and i have a friend (let's call her the chemistry friend cos she does chemistry) who's been obsessed with it for the past 5 years. cos it used to be a yearly thing and then they cancelled it and this year they brought it back. so she created a groupchat with like 30 people and she sends messages everyday like "3 days left!!!!! let's gooo! daily motivation!".

and i was like woop woop let's go! cos i really like the chemistry friend, i think she's really cool.

but what bothered me is that there are a couple of people in the groupchat who i don't really like. and here's the thing, these people never did anything to me but ive been avoiding them. specifically, it's nik and this girl, let's call her luna. they never did anything to me, i shouldn't hate them, but yet i do. and it makes me feel terrible.

so i was like okay, the plan is, i go to the festival, hang out with the chemistry friend, maybe talk to a couple of people in the gc who are chill. and dance the whole night through and not socialise with nik and luna and anyone else. i added my zurich friend to the gc and that also made me happy i was like okay: chemistry friend, zurich friend, chemistry friend's chill friend, maybe that one cool guy from epfl is gonna be there, that's my plan. maybe my oxford bestie can make it and that way it'll be perfect.

but it was already stressing me out bc i feel like nik and luna don't deserve my hate. and why do i hate them? i don't know.

but anway, i was fine. and then!

my london bestie texts me that she's in town this weekend.

and i lost it.

i was like no.

no no no.

and i feel so guilty! because she's supposed to be my best friend! but i really don't want to see her. again, why do i not want to see her??? i don't know! i feel like a bad person! why do i hate my best friend? im supposed to be happy that she's coming, right????

then she said that her, the chemistry friend, nik and luna are going to see shrek together and they want me to come. and nik and luna are my london bestie's friends. so i can't just avoid them if im hanging out with her.

and i was like "eh idk, im more into the dancing vibe, i really wanna dance, but i'll see". and my london bestie was like "okay, chill, let's get shisha today". so we're getting shisha today, it's gonna be chill.

then nik texts me

nik: so shisha tonight, huh? 👀

me: yeah, with [london bestie]

nik: mind if i join? or do you wanna have one on one time with [london bestie]?

so i was like fuck nik loves inviting himself to things, he always does that, it's so annoying!

me: idk, as you want, but i wanted to have some one on one time with [london bestie]

nik: you've been avoiding me :(

me: we're gonna see each other on saturday anyway

and then he sends a whiny voice message like "yeah im gonna pass by to see you guys after work. but if you insist im gonna go home and be alone i guess :(((("

like broooo

i don't want to see him

i don't want to see any of them

adjhowzuehfoskflskds,hgklk;;;;;;;;,,,...

#and now im on the verge of tears #and im super anxious #like all i want is to go to this festival and dance and hang out with my zurich friend #and that's it

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thexhostess · 1 year ago

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A surreptitious romeo glances and peeks from behind an ancient tree. His wistul gaze emerging from behind summer ready, ambered bark. His wet hair drips. Sticks to his cheekbones. His hand crawls around the tree, grazing over the surface of the bark. His eyes dip and rise and he doesn’t speak. He watches me. I stop. Did he crawl out of that river? An opheliac wanting to drown. He rolls and turns and presses his back against the tree. Hiding from me. I have to go over. He’s barely undressed, slim jeans hanging onto his hips. And then that. I linger on the patterns for a bit too long. He sees. I turn away. Do you need help? Are you ok? I say. He is silent but his eyes smoulder searching my eyes in an unusual way. I speak again, but he presses back into the tree, shielding himself , form what? Can I? I say gently. I pull river weeds out of his hair. Are yo going to be ok? I ask. Ah ah,Ugh, maybe. He says thoroguh a dirty laugh. The depth of his voice is delicious. Are you drunk? Did you fall in? Omg can you get home? NAh im good. What are oyu doing back here? Why were you watchign me from back there? He looks down not responding. Just a laugh. He looks to the ground. When his eyes return to me theres a hopeful look in his eyes, heavy lidded and intoxicated too. You really are drunk, and youre soaking. Here. Throw this over your shoulders, , it’s cooler under the sunset. He looks at me and smirks. I can’t wear this, its yours. He holds it out to me. Yea it’s mine, and you should put it on, I don’t have anything else. Take it. I drop down to sit cross legged on the grass under the tree. Put it on, you dont wanna catch a cold. I dunno what you’ve bee nplaying at but you can’t walk home like that. Like what? And his accent is an almost perfect posh english accent. Wit ha hint of something. Like…I search for the words, so he doest look at me like im eyeing him up. I dont need to draw attention to that. I already noticed his cheekboned and his voice. You know. I glnace over and then away. Like whaat? He draws out and exxagerates his oxford accent with each syllable. Really? I say. So what happened? Umm, he fianlly pulls my hoodie over his head, covering the eye tattoos on his back before I get a chance to examine them. You don’t wanna know. He says. I hug my knees to my chest. Waht if I do? Youre wearing my hoodie, at least tell me your name? ‘Ville.’ He says in a distincly different accent. Hi ville. Im sinny.He smiles wistfully hugging hte hoodie arounf himself. Wow perfect english and a second language? What is it? Finnish. Beautiful. Thank you. He nods. Is anyone gonna walk you home? Im gonna wealk my self home. Really, youre in a state to wealk home? Its almsot sundown, you’ll get ill. Plus youll look like a tragic shakespearan personaaagee I drag the word. Maybe thats im goin for. Ah ah ha. Theres that laugh again. I cannot believe it. I squint my eyes, (does he laugh like that cause you’ve fallen in the deep end or is that oyur normal laugh. ) Thats not nice. He says matter of factly. Im teasing omg. I like it. I add softly. I side him to see a reaction. He pulls his lips into a smile. I don’t think youll like anyhting else. Anything else? I pry. About , me. He says. Why have you got a secret I can’t know about? I have a vampire lair but I can walk around in the sun like edward cullen. He teases. The britishness in his voice amplified. I don’t think so! Why you don’t think im good enough to be an eward cullen? Ino, I think, I think youre too good to be an edward cullen. Hmmm he laughs a little.

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velvethopewrites · 2 years ago

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This week’s fic is a one shot, and mostly (re: epically!) smutty (wink, wink) but no less worthy of your perusal. And just in case you were wondering, yes, I really do talk like I write (giant nerd, me? No! Well, yes).

Being Lead Home by someonetoanyone

Summary:

The table has gone quiet, and Dean’s already got a bad habit of forgetting that anyone else in the world exists when he’s got Cas’ focus like this. To him, the whole universe narrows down to the two of them, sat across from each other at the kitchen table, Oxford to boot, eye-to-eye.

“You’re gonna stay. Sam’s movin’ out, onto bigger and better things, yadda yadda, half-retired family man sorta shit, and you’re gonna stay here with me.”

___

Cas comes back.

This fic is self-indulgent and the author freely admits to it and good God, I absolutely love that. They’re just here putting out into the world the content they want to see and all I can say is, thank you, thank you, thank you! This fic is Dean with his head finally out of his ass - straight to the point - I want Cas and Cas wants me, let’s get with the program! and it is absolutely glorious! Huzzah. 🎉

And while yes, this is a smut-love-fest of biblical (heh) proportions, it is also emotional and so full of love for these two idiots that once you start reading you won’t want to stop. Sometimes a fic like this is exactly what we all need - not just for the lovely smuttiness of it - but because it just cuts to the chase of everything we want to see happen between Dean and Cas.

But, of course, there are real feelings here, have no fear. And the writing is top notch - damn near poetic, even. So evocative and emotional. You really feel it when Dean and Cas finally get to it - heart racing, blood pumping, oh yeah, this fic is IT.

*fans self*

I also really love the characterization of Cas and Dean, here, especially Cas. It feels so in character it almost hurts and I had no problem visualizing any of it. I wish all one-shots were this brilliant. I wish this one shot could be filmed. But, alas. Thank goodness we have fic, am I right? It doesn’t completely scratch that itch, but whooo-boy, does it help. Not to be horny on main or anything, but, lol, this fic is such a treat, seriously. I’ve read it three times now and it never fails to enchant me and draw me in. And my partner appreciates that when I jump on them, afterwards. Ahem. I leave you with my favorite line -

Separation does wonders for perspective; reunited like this, Dean can feel and see how his body gets so gentle as soon as Cas is in his field of vision, especially once they’re alone. His body opens up for Cas, unfolds like a blossom, like it knows something he’s never said out loud.

Sigh. Just beautiful. Give it a read this weekend!! Five out of Five Bees! 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

omg it’s FAN FICTION FRIDAY

Reblog and promote a fic of yours <3

#Fic rec #fan fiction friday #destiel #smutty love fest ftw #fan fic friday

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ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

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TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

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flosbelova · 3 years ago

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whatever you want us to be

florence pugh x actress!reader

summary: you’re an actress and florence pugh is one of your competitors. you’re both really good actors, but one tends to outact the other during auditions. this creates a small competition between the two of you. when you both get cast in a film where you both play a couple, your world turns upside down.

warnings: suggestive content

word count: 2.6k

after getting the call from your agent that you booked one of the lead roles, you screamed at the top of your lungs for about five minutes. you were so excited because this is your first time, finally getting a lead role. you would have gotten the chance to get the lead in other films, but the great florence pugh always beat you to it. well, you can’t lie, she’s a damn good actress. but now, you both have created this little competition between the both you.

your heart just about dropped out of your ass when you saw the Deadline announcement. florence pugh was playing your significant other. how fucking great.

it’s the first day of rehearsals and you made sure to get there just a bit early. you looked around, to check if any of your co-stars were there and you seemed to be in the clear. you decided to walk up to the director to create a more mutual relationship, but you stop in your tracks when you see a blonde next to the director.

of course.

you shake the feeling off and say hi to the director.

“oh y/n! you’re here early, you are just the person i was looking for,” the director says.

“oh, really?” you ask, surprised.

“yeah, um, have you had the chance to meet this wonderful young lady next to me?” the director asks.

you look at florence and force a smile. “yes, we have met a couple times,” you say nodding your head.

florence catches onto your attitude and glares at you. when the director turns to look at her, her mood shifts immediately and smiles at the director.

“well, i’m sensing some tension here, so why don’t we rehearse one of the scenes to shake some of that nervousness off?” the director insists.

nervousness? i think it’s more of annoyance.

you get to your spots and the director calls for action.

you were both rehearsing the scene where they both confess their love for each other for the first time. you manage to do well (or so you think) even if you cringed on the inside.

“CUT,” the director yells.

“okay, y/n, that was good but i’m gonna need more emotion from you. you have to feel your character’s feelings and get into their head. florence, you did a great job, but just make sure to look like you’re acknowledging what y/n’s character is saying, okay?” the director advises.

“yes, thank you,” you both said in unison. both of you side eyed each other, both feeling the disgust within yourselves.

“alright, let’s try it again,” the director says.

after many takes of rehearsal, you were finally able to take the rest of the day off. sure, you can say it was easy, but having to look at the face of your competition didn’t help your mood.

of course, florence is beautiful. you’ve never seen anyone quite like her. but you just can’t shake the fact that she was someone you had competition with.

filming finally began and its safe to say that you were doing well. you were hitting your lines and because of a little soul searching, you’ve only had to have a couple takes.

today, you were filming the big confession. it was that cliché confession under the rain and you were kind of excited for it. you and florence have both rehearsed this scene about a hundred times now, but you never rehearsed the kiss. yes, maybe that’s a bit unprofessional, but you’ve both had this unspoken thing of “we’ll just do it when we have to do it.” well, today was that day.

thinking to yourself, you were a great kisser. you’ve kissed many people in movies, so how can this one feel any different?

“ACTION!” the director yells.

“I LOVE YOU YOU IDIOT!” you say. “i’ve loved you since the day i met you! i can’t stop thinking about you, i lose sleep every night because i can’t get you out of my head!”

you walk towards florence, and grabs her hands. “i love you too.”

you both lean in and WOW. her lips were soft. she tasted like strawberry chapstick and you wanted more. you don’t know what overcame you, but the taste of her lips felt so good.

you could tell florence felt the same way too. she held onto you a little too tightly and moved her hand to the back of your neck. florence let her tongue slip in and you accepted.

before things got more heated, the director yelled “CUT!”

you and florence pulled away slowly, keeping eye contact.

“THAT. WAS. AMAZING!” the director exclaims. “you both did a phenomenal job!”

“thank you,” you both said in unison again. this time, you look at each other and smiled.

“alright, well, that’s a wrap for today! great job everyone. go home and the both of you, dry yourselves. i can’t have both my leads getting sick,” the director says.

you dried yourself off in your trailer and started to get yourself ready for bed, when you hear a knock on your door. you open it and you’re shocked to see who’s at your doorstep— florence.

“hey, what are you doing here?” you ask her.

“i just um, i couldn’t sleep. could i come in?” she asks.

“um,” you hesitate for a moment. why the hell does she wanna come in my trailer? is this some kind of game? “sure. come in.”

you reach your hand out to help florence up the steps. god her hands are so soft. y/n shut the fuck up. you’re not supposed to like her.

you smile at florence as she steps into your trailer. “welcome to my humble abode.”

“hm, well not exactly, looks exactly like mines,” she teases.

you roll your eyes, “so what do you want?” you ask, sounding kind of rude.

florence raises her eyebrows, “wow. um okay,” she takes a deep breath, “i’m just here to talk and i guess get to know each other, since we clearly have gotten off on the wrong foot,” she breathes out.

“um, what do you wanna talk about?” you ask, taking caution.

“just the basics. like, where you’re from, where’d you go to school, if you have a dog. anything really,” she says.

“um, i’m from a small town in the bay area, i moved down here in LA to follow my dreams of becoming an actor. i went to UCLA and took film. and i don’t have a dog because im always busy,” you answer her.

“okay,” she says, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“what about you?” you ask her.

“well, i grew up in oxford, got my first acting gig at 17, and now here i am. and i have a dog back home,” she says smiling.

there was silence for a minute. all you could hear was your breathing.

“okay, uh, i should get going now,” florence says, making way for your door.

your brain was somehow on autopilot because what came out of your mouth should have never been spoken into existence.

“you’re a great kisser by the way,” you say, instantly regretting opening your mouth.

the blonde stops walking and turns to look at you with an amused look on her face.

“what did you just say to me?” she asks, a mischievous smile forming on her face.

“i, uh, i didn’t- i didn’t say anything,” you say scratching your head.

“you know, you do that a lot when you lie,” she says, furrowing her brows.

“do what?” you ask.

“the uh- the head scratch thing you do when you’re lying,” she says, mimicking your head scratch.

“what? no i don’t.” you scratch your head.

florence chuckles. “see. you did it again!”

“whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“i noticed it a lot when we were in rehearsal. i remember i’d ask you questions and there goes your hand scratching your head. it actually surprised me that there wasn’t blood gushing out of your head with the amount of times you’ve scratched it,” she says, giggling.

“ha ha, you’re hilarious. what else have you noticed?” you asked her, getting annoyed at this point.

“well,” she takes a couple steps closer to you. “i also noticed that you’re also a great kisser,” she says, her accent getting thicker, her face inches away from yours.

you feel yourself gasp as she moves closer to you. if you moved your face even a bit, your lips would be on hers.

“so, do you wanna prove it to me?” she says, her voice getting lower.

“prove what?” you ask, feeling the tension rising up.

“that you’re a great kisser,” she says in her husky voice.

you look at her eyes and it’s like they’re piercing through your soul. you noticed her gaze changed when she started leaning into you. you closed your eyes and leaned in, breaking the gap between the both of you.

her lips were on yours once again. it had felt like heaven was on earth. it was as if the world stopped and the both of you were the only ones moving. she had that strawberry chapstick taste and you were hungry for more.

deepening the kiss, you grab the back of her neck and wrap your hands around her waist. you pulled away to catch your breath and started heading towards your bed.

you laid florence on her back, and before anything could proceed, you ask her, “what does this make us?”

“anything you want us to be,” she says with a smirk on her face.

and with that, you proceed with your night.

clothes were taken off and thrown behind you. gasps and moans filled the air. dirty words were spoken, and her hands wrapped around your neck. that night, you realized that florence liked to be dominant.

you woke up the next morning, and felt a body next to you. you looked to your side and saw a blonde head resting on your chest, with her arms wrapped around your torso.

everything from last night started coming back. your eyes widened as you realized, i slept with my co-star.

you tried to pull away as slowly as you can, but as you moved her arm away, she woke up.

florence’s morning face so cute. her eyes and cheeks were puffier than normal and her lips were a bit swollen from last night. she looked up at you and smiled. she pulled herself up, to kiss you on the cheek.

“good morning, darling,” she says, her morning voice filling your ears.

“good morning,” you say, slightly confused.

you rubbed your eyes and placed your hand on your forehead. “oh my god we slept together. this is so unprofessional.”

“shhh, don’t worry sweetheart,” florence says, pressing her finger on your lips. “i don’t kiss and tell.”

“florence this is serious, we could lose our jobs,” you begin.

“what part of ‘i don’t kiss and tell’ do you understand?” she asks. “besides, i told you that we could be whatever you want us to be.”

you look at her, and raise a brow.

“and if you want us to be co-stars who sleep together, then that’s fine with me,” she says.

“i’m sorry, what?” you say, sitting up. your hide your face into your hands for a second, and turn to look at her. “do you, do you do this often? like with your co-stars? is this what you do?”

“i’m sorry, are you accusing me of.. wow y/n, i thought you were better than that,” florence says, getting off your bed.

“no, no, that’s not what i meant, i-“

“save it,” she interrupts you. “i’ll see you on set.”

florence picks up her clothes and puts them on and heads out of your trailer.

you put your hands on your face and sigh, falling back down on your bed.

it had been weeks since you and florence had spoken to each other. the only time you had really spoken was when you had to act together. other than that, florence didn’t really acknowledge your presence. you had tried to talk to her, and tried to apologize and explain yourself but she would always get away. you even tried texting her, and leave her voicemails. you were always left on read and your calls were never returned.

it was the last day on set and you made it your goal to finally talk to her and apologize.

“CUT! THAT IS OFFICIALLY A WRAP! CONGRATULATIONS EVERYONE!” the director exclaims.

clapping was heard around the set. you and your fellow actors and crew had finally did it, the movie was finally finished and will start the editing process as soon as possible.

you were heading back to your trailer for your last night, before you had to leave in the morning. you opened the door to your trailer and says a vase of flowers. there was a card next to it that read, “congratulations on the wrap! i had great fun working with you.” of course, she’s just congratulating you to be nice. nothing personal.

“p.s. open your door. xx”

what?

you open your door, to your surprise, it’s florence. you were so happy to see her that without thinking, you pulled her into your trailer and hugged her tightly.

“god i thought you hated me,” you said on her shoulder.

she pulled away and pushed you back, and you felt your heart break. you spoke too soon.

she sighed and grabbed your hands. she kissed your knuckles and placed your hands on her face. she smiled at you. “i could never hate you.”

you felt yourself finally able to breathe. you leaned in, but she placed her finger on your lips, stopping you.

“i listened to your many voicemails and read your texts. i need some time to think and i’m ready to answer you. yes, i forgive you. and i agree, we should start over. i would love to go to a café and properly get to know each other. and yes, i’m going to be honest, i missed you too,” she answers.

you deeply breathed in and out and tried to process what florence had just said. once everything clicked, you smiled.

“can i please kiss you now?” you pleaded.

“yes,” she smiled.

you leaned in and kissed her, finally. not only have you missed her, but you missed her lips as well. even if you had kissed her during your scenes, this kiss was real. it wasn’t behind a camera. this was real life. it was your reality.

pulling away to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against hers.

“so, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” you ask.

“what do you mean?” she says look at you.

“i mean, there’s clearly feelings involved here, are we gonna talk about that?”

“take me out on a date first and maybe we’ll have a chat about it,” she teases.

you roll your eyes.

“besides, i thought the sex explained it,” she says.

“well, maybe we should try again so that the feelings are more clear,” you wittily say.

she lightly slaps you on the arm and rolls her eyes. “let’s see how our date goes, and maybe i’ll show you how clear my feelings are.”

you smile again and felt butterflies in your stomach. this woman might just be it for you.

the end

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh fanfic #yelena belova #fan fiction #wlw

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slafkovskys · 4 years ago

Text

me, you, and the stars / j. norris

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from summer days by martin garrix

warnings(s): swearing, nsfw content (18+), jealousy, josh is just an asshole for the first half idk, alcohol, mentions of underage drinking

word count: 4.9k

“look y/n, we're leaving whether you’re with us or not!” you hear josh’s familiar voice shout from the other side of the closed door. you hear a deep sigh before a thump, which you’re fairly certain is him propping himself against the wall.

“no you won’t!” you respond. you brush the tinted wand of your lip gloss over your lips before twisting the cap back on and dropping it back into your makeup bag. you take your phone off of the charger before walking back into your bedroom and across the floor to the door. you pull it open to find josh (unsurprisingly) still on the other side. “well well well, what do you know? you’re still here.”

“you don’t have to act like such a brat,” he grumbles. he pushes away from the wall and takes in your choice of outfit, raising an eyebrow, “that’s what you’re wearing?”

“i’m not doing this with you tonight, josh. last time i checked, i’m an adult and i didn’t ask for your opinion. if you don’t like my outfit, you are more than welcome to stay behind and cry about it and i’ll make sure to have a couple drinks for you,” you roll your eyes as you smooth down your dress, a loose little number that fell from thin spaghetti straps and fell just at the middle of your thighs.

“i just don’t want to have to watch over you all night. guys are- they’re gross y/n,” he’s a couple of steps behind you on the stairs as he starts his little spiel. “i don’t want you to be exposed to that.”

“then why the hell did you invite me to come if you’re just going to be overbearing the whole time? besides, like i said before, i’m twenty years old and i haven't needed a babysitter since the third grade. if i can survive your friends, i should be able to survive a bonfire with a couple of strangers.”

you don’t tune in for his response as you walk out of the front door of the rented cabin and towards the truck. the passenger seat, which had always been designated as yours ever since he’d gotten his license, was empty and the rest of the group that was riding with you was piled into the back. you pull open the back door and will looks at you confused. you jut out your bottom lip and look at him with pleading eyes, “will you take shotgun?”

“what’s the problem now?” he slides out of the backseat anyway and takes the passenger seat while you take his seat.

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” you buckle your seatbelt and cross your arms over your chest, turning your head to look out of the window when josh opens the driver’s side door.

“seriously?” he scoffs when he finds one of his best friends where you were supposed to be. it wasn’t rhetorical, but you act like it was as you turn your body away from his watchful eyes. “whatever.”

he pulls away from the house with the rest of your group following behind in a separate car. your destination was another cabin not far from your own for a bonfire put on by someone who you didn’t even know. hunter had found out about the party on his trip to the grocery store with coale earlier in the day and once the information was shared with the group that there was allegedly going to be free alcohol, it wasn’t hard to get everyone on board.

the cabin was a little ways down the road, not that far but still too far to walk. when josh pulls behind the already long line of cars in the driveway, you all pile out and head for the house where everyone immediately splits up into their own groups.

emily tried to convince you to come with her and kate outside, but you declined, promising to join them a little while later instead. you quickly found the alcohol piled into a plastic bin on the counter, fish yourself out a can, and retreat to the living room.

your eyes scan the room. there were already loads of drunk twenty-plus-year-olds stumbling around and you even noticed some teenagers who had either convinced their parents to let them come or snuck out, making the rounds as well. your knack for observing caused you to focus on a boy.

he couldn’t be older than you, not by much if he was, and he was staring right back at you. unlike you, though, he wasn’t alone. he was quick to abandon whatever conversation he was having before to make his way across the room once he realized that you had noticed him. you turn your head quickly and your cheeks burn at the realization that you had been caught.

you don’t have time to slip away before he’s standing in front of you. his grin is soft as he speaks, “hi.”

you swallow, heart-pounding for some unknown reason, before lifting your head to meet his eyes. you muster your best ‘i’m fine i swear’ smile, “hey there.”

“i hope i’m not bothering you or anything. i just saw you standing over here by yourself and figured i would just come over to make sure that you’re okay?” he scratches the back of his neck.

“aw, that’s sweet of you,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “i’m okay, i just kind of like to know my surroundings, get a feel of the place before i really do anything. weird habit i guess.”

his eyes track your can as you raise it to your lips, “no, no, you’re fine. i’m ben by the way.”

he holds out a hand to which you raise an eyebrow at. he notices and pulls it away quickly. you shake your head and giggle softly, “i’ve just never had a guy try and shake my hand at a party before, ben, but i’m y/n. it’s nice to meet you.”

“you too,” he moves to lean against the wall beside you, his shoulder barely touching yours. “are you from here?”

“no actually. just visiting with some friends on vacation. i’m from oxford,” he raises his eyebrows. you wave your free hand around, “it’s in-”

“i know where it’s at. one of my buddies is from there, i’ve just never met anyone else who was,” he grins. “i’m not from here either. grew up outside of toronto for a little bit and i’ve kind of been a bit of everywhere since.”

“so you’ve traveled a lot?” you ask, turning your body towards his. he hums and you raise your eyebrows, “i want to do that so badly. it’s, like, on the top of my bucket list.”

“you don’t get to travel much?”

“i mean, not really. i’ve been to dallas, new york, the ‘bigger’ places. the only place outside of the us that i’ve been is ottawa which is not that extravagant if i’m honest,” the thought of josh crosses your mind at the mention of ottawa, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came when ben chuckles.

“why specifically ottawa? it’s not usually people’s first choice,” he raises his eyebrow and you shrug. “it’s complicated?”

“a little bit. anyways, what brings you here? do you know who owns this place?” you ask and his face flushes.

“um, i do. well, not me. my dad does. he let me borrow it for the week so i packed up a couple of my friends and borrowed the family dog and here i am,” he watches as you perk up at the mention of a dog. “do you want to meet him?”

“he’s here? can i?” it doesn’t take much for you to follow him away from the living room and down the hallway. he pushes open a door and (though it wasn’t your smartest decision to follow a stranger into a room) you're met with the sight of a dog. you gasp and he lifts his head, standing up with a stretch as you bend down. he moves off of his very comfortable-looking bed and moves in between your open arms. you squeal, “hello!”

“his name is tex, short for texas,” ben takes a seat on the bench beside the washing machine and watches as you embrace the golden retriever. “he likes you.”

“what’s not to like?” you question, looking up at the brunette with a smile. tex huffs as he takes a seat and you squeeze him gently, “you’re just the sweetest boy, aren’t you? i bet you’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life.”

“he’s does have a knack for shoes-” you cut ben off with a glare and he raises his hands in surrender, “you’re right. he’s never done anything in his entire life.”

“good answer.”

you don’t know how long you were in there with ben, playing with tex and making small talk before someone stumbles inside. he looks between ben and you and smirks, “sorry ben. we’ll find somewhere else.”

you realize then that there was a girl behind him and your cheeks burn as he closes the door. you find a neon green rope and dangle it in front of tex who eagerly snatched it from your hand. “i should be getting back out there. thank you for letting me play with him.”

“actually, i was going to ask if you wanted to get out of here? we could drive around a little bit,” he’s nervous and that was something that you could tell right off the bat. “you just said that you don’t travel much and i know it’s nothing astronomical, but i could just show you some places around town.”

in your slightly not sober mind, it didn’t even click that it was well into the night. you smile, ��that sounds good. let me go and tell my friends and i’ll meet you back in the living room?”

“sounds good,” he watches as you bid tex farewell and follows you out of the room. you part ways as you head off to look for someone that you knew. it didn’t take long before you found josh outside surrounded by people. while he was the last person you wanted to tell, almost everyone that you knew was with him and you were beyond ready to leave.

you make your way over, tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt to get his attention. he tilts his head to the side and when he realizes it’s you, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back as he pulls you to his side. he bends down to hear you, “what’s up?”

you're very aware of the attention that you’ve drawn from the group, the females who didn’t know about yours and josh’s abnormally touchy relationship especially, but you just push yourself on your tiptoes so that your mouth is beside his ear, “i’m leaving.”

he makes a noise of disapproval, “with who?”

“ben,” you shrug as though it was nothing.

“who the hell is ben?”

“we met earlier. he’s gonna show me around.”

“it’s past midnight, y/n. the only place you’re going is back to the cabin and i’m going to be the one taking you there. now, if you want to go so badly, give me five minutes and we’ll leave.”

“no, josh,” you try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t allow it whatsoever. “let me go!”

“y/n,” he sighs, handing his cup off to will who dumps whatever was in there into his own and turns you both away from the group. he keeps an arm slung over your shoulder as he slowly walks you towards the house “i don’t know how much you’ve had to drink tonight, but obviously too much if you think i’m letting you leave with someone that you just met.”

“we met the other day, at the grocery store,” the lie slips easily from your lips but josh shakes his head. he’s known you long enough to know when you were lying and the way that you were avoiding his eyes told him everything that he needed to know. that and you had been very adamant on not tagging along for any grocery store runs since you had arrived. you groan once you realize that he’s not letting you off that easy and try, once again, to pull away from him, “it wasn’t even that much! and what about you? i don’t want you driving me home if you’ve been drinking!”

“i’m 6’1 and almost 200 pounds, princess. i’ve barely had one full beer and i’ve been sipping on that for about an hour. i’m perfectly fucking fine to drive,” he rolls his eyes. he walks you both through the house and points to the couch where two couples were making out, “if you don’t believe me we can sit right there and wait for half an hour. will that appease you?”

“i fucking hate you,” you spit, finally pulling away from his grasp. you storm towards the front door and throw it open, finding ben perched on the swing out front. he stands when he sees you and your eyes soften, “ben, i’m-”

“oh, so you’re ben?” josh slides up behind you and holds out his hand for ben, poor ben, who looks very confused as he reaches out to shake it, “‘m josh. thanks for offering to give my little y/n here a tour of the town at one o’clock in the morning, that was very, very kind of you, but she’s going to have to decline. you have a good one though.”

“i want to hear that from her,” ben looks at you almost hopefully. “y/n?”

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, turning away from him and making your way down to where josh had parked. he takes his sweet time making his way down the driveway and refuses to unlock the truck until his hand covers yours on the handle, “will you please just unlock the door?”

“lose the attitude,” he scoffs, “you didn’t even know him.”

“i was getting to know him josh. you always fucking do this,” you huff and he finally unlocks the door. his hand tightens on yours as you both pull on the handle. you rip your hand away as you lift yourself into the truck and sink onto the passenger seat. he watches as you reach out to pull the door closed. you pause to utter the words, “and i’m not yours so you can stop fucking saying it.”

before pulling the door closed rather forcefully. he scoffs and shakes his head, making his way around the front of the truck. he starts it and throws it in reverse, putting his hand behind your seat to look out of the back glass, “we’re talking about this when we get back.”

you lean forward and turn the radio up, drowning him out.

the second that he kills the engine, you snatch the keys from his hand and stomp towards the front door. you throw it open, not bothering to close it as you tossed the keys onto the counter and made quick work of going to your room, rushing to beat him because he could move a lot faster than you were able to.

you hear his loud footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet house as he ascends the stairs after you. you make sure to slam the door when he’s barely six feet away and twist the lock.

“leave me alone!” you shout as you pull out a pair of shorts from your bag. you peel off your clothes and throw them in the pile along with your other dirty clothes and make your way into the bathroom.

you grab your toothbrush just as you hear the lock turning and you want to scream. you ignore him when he walks in, leaning against the door at first. when you don’t pay him any mind, instead grabbing your toothbrush. he grins knowingly, used to your antics, “you’re ignoring me now?”

when you don’t answer, he moves to stand behind you so that you would have to look at him in the mirror, but you only turn towards the door. he chuckles, “oh, you’re good.”

you for sure thought that he wouldn’t wait you out, but he seemingly had no problem doing so. he takes a seat on the edge of the bath and props his head in his hands, watching you intently as you start to take off your makeup. you pick up a bottle and he points his finger, “what’s that for?”

you continue your silence.

“you have to talk to me at some point. we’re here for three more days, y/n,” he sighs and you shake your head. you look into the mirror, connecting your eyes with his, and you open your mouth to speak. his eyebrows raise and he smirks, which causes you to close your mouth and grab a towel to dry your face.

you weren’t going to let him win.

when you turn to exit your bedroom, he follows quickly behind. you make your way into the kitchen and turn on your phone, connecting it to the speaker that sat on the counter. it was jack’s and he had specifically told everyone not to run the battery down because he had forgotten to bring the charger, but it was the only way that you would be able to drown josh out.

you pick your playlist and turn your volume all the way up before tucking your phone in the waistband of your shorts. you move over to stand in front of the sink, fishing out some of the dishes so you could start to fill the sink. josh leans over the other side of the counter, “you’re so pissed off at me that you’re doing the dishes? are you serious?”

you look up at him and point to yours, a silent way of saying ‘i can’t hear you.’ something changes in his eyes and you look down at the sink as he pushes away from the counter. in a matter of seconds, the speaker is turned off and his hands are on your hips. the music is still playing and you feel his hand pull your phone from its place. with one of his hands holding your phone, you're able to turn around, “hey!”

“hi,” he smirks knowingly. he pauses the music and pockets your phone in his jeans. you go to reach for it, but he grabs your wrist, “now, you can either continue to act like a brat or we can have an adult conversation.”

you glare at him, “i’ll keep being a brat, thanks. now leave me alone and give me back my phone.”

in an instant, he’s lifting you onto the counter. his hands cage you in and you look at him with wide eyes, “what is your problem, y/n?”

“i could ask you the same question, josh,” you hold his gaze. you wanted so badly to reach out and place your hand on his cheek, press your lips to his own, but you couldn’t. you shouldn’t. you were still mad at him. “you’re such a fucking cockblock and i’m sick of it.”

“it’s not my fault that you can’t take a fucking hint,” he rolls his eyes. you take a deep breath and he looks at you with an expression that seems almost shocked, “are you- why do you think i did that?”

“because you’re an asshole?” you accidentally touch your hand to his and you pull it away quickly.

“please don’t do that,” he sighs. he reaches for your hand and you let him curl his fingers around your own. it felt strange, it felt- it felt good. “you’re the only one that matters to me, y/n. why can’t you understand that? because i don’t know how much clearer i can be.”

“you’re drunk josh,” you repeat what you had said earlier when he offered to drive you home.

“you know damn well that i’m not, y/n.” and he was right. you know josh, been around him enough to know what he was like when he was under the influence and this, this wasn’t it.

“what do you mean?” you squeeze onto his hand. “you said that i’m the only one that matters to you. what do you mean?”

“i haven’t taken anyone home in almost a year because of you. even in belleville, even when i got called up. they tried to get me to hook up with someone but i couldn’t. you’re the only person that i want in my bed and you-” he pauses, shaking his head.

“what did i do, josh? you’ve been a total asshole to me and i’m supposed to realize that that means that you want me? what are we, eight?” you shake your head, untangling your fingers from his. you lean back on the counter and he looks at you almost pleadingly, “you aren’t my boyfriend and you need to stop acting like it. this shit isn’t going to fly anymore.”

he goes quiet before he leans forward. his lips press to yours and a warm feeling takes over your body. you melt into him when he moves one of his hands to rest on your back and the other to rest on your cheek. his hand pulls you forward and you wrap your arms around his neck. he’s the one to pull away first, breathing heavily. his eyes are glazed over and by the way he’s gripping onto you, you can tell that he doesn’t want to let go. “was- is this okay?”

you squeeze his wrist on the hand that rested softly on your cheek as though he would slip away before you leaned back in after taking a deep breath. his hands slides up your back, slipping under the hem of your shirt and you pull away this time, pressing your nose into his neck, “not here. someone could walk- josh!”

you tighten your arms around his neck as he takes you down the hallway to what you knew to be his bedroom. he pushes open the door and drops you down onto the bed, which causes you to squeal as his body covers your own.

you run your hands along his shoulders and he slides his fingertips under your shirt. he’s nervous, you can tell, maybe a little hesitant as well.

“josh,” you call, running your index finger along his jaw, “this is okay with me. i promise you. is it okay with you?”

“more than okay,” he confirms, “are you sure that you want to do this? things won’t ever be the same if we do.”

why did he have to say that?

if it was anybody else, you wouldn’t have even had to think about it. if it was ben, it wouldn’t have meant anything. but this wasn’t just anyone. it wasn’t just ben who you had known all of an hour before you were willing to get into his car. this was josh who you had known since you were kids. josh that you had harbored a crush on since you were thirteen and he was fourteen. josh who you were forced to watch from a distance as he got older and buffer from the hours spent training, who you had to watch as he brought the occasional girl home to meet his mother.

you had never told anyone how you felt and no one ever seemed to notice, which was fine. perfect even. but now-

you look into his eyes as you whisper the single word, “please.”

that seems to be all he needs before he hooks his fingers in your shorts and tugs them downward, taking your panties with them easily. he tosses them to the side and chuckles as his fingers lightly run across your slit, “you’re already soaked.”

“i’ve been waiting a long time for this,” you admit, biting your lip as his thumb runs over your clit.

he sinks his index finger in slowly, pressing his lips to yours as you gasp. it doesn’t take long for him to work in a second before he speaks again, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“to be fair, i thought i was the last person that you wanted to sleep with. you aren’t the best at showing your emotions,” you grumble and he grins.

“you and your attitude,” he shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stretches you open. “what am i gonna do with you? don’t think that i’ve forgotten about how much of a little brat you were being earlier.”

“well,” in a sudden act of boldness, you move your lips to dance over his ear, “what are you gonna do about it? because as much as you seemed to want me out in the kitchen, you’re moving awfully slow.”

that seemed to ignite something inside of him.

it was only a couple of minutes later when both of your clothes were thrown about the room and he was ripping open a condom. you grin as he presses the tip to your slit, taking some of the wetness.

“josh,” you moan as he sinks in, slowly filling you. “fuck.”

“worth waiting for?”

“you pick the worst times to be an ass- holy,” you arch your chest into his as he bottoms out. you try and pull away but he wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you still.

“that’s it, princess,” he coos, sucking a mark into your neck. “look so pretty on my cock. can’t believe i waited this long to see you like this, fuck.”

a whine forms in your throat as he pulls out, only to thrust right back in. he lets you dig your nails into his back as he finds his pace, finding your g-spot almost a little too quickly.

his hips snap against yours and his mouth makes its way from your neck to your breasts, taking the opportunity to leave hickeys there as well. there was no way in hell that you were going to be able to hide what had happened and you somehow find the words to voice that, “everyone’s gonna know.”

“fucking good,” he lands a particularly harsh against your spot, “want them to know that you’re mine. that they can’t have you. i’ve seen the way they look at you and i don’t like it.”

“we’re gonna have to work on that but now, i’m gonna-”

“you’re gonna ask me nicely,” his thumb finds your clit and he begins to circle. “you’re gonna show me that you can be good and say please.”

“i hate you,” your words have no real meaning and he knows that by the chuckle he has the audacity to let out. “please josh, please let me cum. i’ll be so fucking good, let everyone know i’m yours.”

“say it again,” he demands.

“i’m yours,” and that was the end.

you feel him spill into the condom before he give you permission, spilling over his cock as you tighten your arms around his neck and press your lips to his as you ride through the aftershock. he rocks upwards a few more times before slipping out and resting his head on your bare chest. his fingers run over one of breasts, “didn’t show these enough attention.”

“they’re covered in hickeys,” you breathe out, “they got the memo.”

you find yourself tangled under his covers not thirty minutes later, both fresh from the shower. you had spent minimal time actually under the water and more time-pressed against the wall with his lips pressed against yours.

your hand ran through his hair as his head rested on your naked chest. you can’t help but stare over his shoulder out of the large window that overlooked the lake. the stars were twinkling high above while everything else was quiet. too quiet.

wait-

you patiently wait until you were positive that he was asleep when you start to shift backward, trying to escape his grip. you had your feet on the ground, ready to search for your clothes before he makes a noise of protest.

“woah,” he says when you move to get out of the bed. his hand curls around your side and pulls you back to his chest, “what are you doing?”

“i’m going back to my room,” you look at him confused. “everyone’s bound to be home soon and i don’t want them to find us like this.”

“i don’t care if they see us, y/n. what part of you being the only one that i want didn’t you understand?” he sighs as he pushes your hair out of your face. you wrap one of your hands around his arm as he does so, “i don’t just want you for tonight. i want you for the long run, y/n. i don’t know exactly what that entails, but i do know that i want you to be here when i wake up in the morning. we can talk about it then, okay?”

you look into his eyes, trying to find any hint that he wasn’t telling you the truth, but you couldn’t. you relax into his chest and let his arms wrap around you once again, “in the morning.”

“in the morning,” he agrees and presses his lips to the top of your head.

#josh norris #josh norris imagine #josh norris smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey smut #ottawa senators #my work

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

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LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –” Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #nanami x you

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amanda-glassen · 3 years ago

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The Prettiest Sound

Becca helps Serena unwind before her final exams. Based on the prompt “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

Requested by @justalittleghostwriter

December 2007

Serena was a week away from her first final exams as a junior and between her full course load and her responsibilities as the president of her sorority, she was feeling even more stressed than she had when she was in high school balancing 5 AP classes while studying for the SATs. She looked over at her roommate and best friend Becca. While Serena’s bed was covered in her laptop and books she needed for the research paper she had to finish in addition to studying for her final exams, Becca was watching videos in bed and feeling completely relaxed.

“How are you watching Charlie the Unicorn right now?” Serena asked in disbelief. “You have just as many finals as I do next week.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, I’m not trying to get into grad school,” Becca said as she pressed play on the next video. “I just need a C average to graduate. Even with a 2.0 average, you can still get the same jobs as 4.0 students. Employers look at where you graduated from, not your GPA.”

Serena shut her laptop and laid back on her bed, wondering if any of this was truly worth it. Do I really need to go to graduate school? Do I really want to become a professor and be in school for the rest of my life? “Too bad I couldn’t have been a model like my mom or an actress like my grandma,” Serena sighed. She looked across the room at the full-length mirror and noticed her unkempt appearance. Model? Actress? With my glasses and retainer? “I think that ship has either sailed or never even docked.”

“Ser,” Becca rolled her eyes. “Come here.” She patted the space next to her on the bed, the space that had become Serena’s side of the bed whenever she had nightmares and wanted to cuddle.

“Beck, I can’t cuddle right now. I have my soc research paper to finish. It has to be 15-20 pages. 15-20! Can you believe that? I swear when I’m a professor, I’m not gonna do some dumb page requirement. 15-20 pages for an undergrad assignment means your students are just going to ramble on because you’re making them say something that could have been better expressed in 5 pages.”

Becca walked over to Serena’s bed and yanked her out. “We’re not gonna cuddle, Serena. Does anyone ever tell you how tightly wound you are for a 20 year old?”

“My family, my friends, this entire sorority, my professors－” Serena began to list as Becca led her over to her bed. “If I want to stay at Columbia for grad school or go to Oxford, I’m gonna need Latin Honors, which means every one-hundredth of a percentage point of my GPA matters.”

“Ser?” Becca leaned in to kiss her. Serena looked around at the Christmas lights they had strewn across their room, the sight of them and the feeling of Becca’s kisses making her feel at peace for the first time since she had started studying. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything I am,” Serena responded nervously, suddenly realizing what Becca had in mind for her.

“I know you’re technically a virgin, but have you ever…?” Becca lowered her eyes.

Serena gave her a half-smile, not quite sure how to answer without getting technical. “Had an orgasm? No.”

“I wanna be your first.” Becca rubbed her nose against hers. “I want to make you feel good, but only if you want this just as much as I do. I want the first person to touch you with your consent to be someone who really loves you.” She felt Becca start to kiss the scars on her wrists. “I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Serena’s hand was under Becca’s shirt as she gently caressed her back. “I want you to be my first. I’m just not ready for anyone to be inside me, but I can do…other stuff…”

She hadn’t tried to undress her and Serena knew she was trying to take things slow and gauge her reaction. “We can stop anytime. I promise you.” Becca told her. Her hand was down the front of Serena’s pajama pants, caressing her on the outside of her underwear, waiting for a sign from Serena that it was okay.

But those gentle touches made Serena’s desire build. “Touch me, Beck. I need you.” She was already wet for her and she had to stop herself from coming the moment Becca started to rub her clit.

“It’s okay, Ser,” Becca kissed her. “You can let go. Girls can come more than once.”

Her last comment made Serena giggle. “Beck!”

When she touched Becca for the first time, she needed a moment to process everything that was happening. Becca was soft and wet and the feeling of her heightened the sensation of what Becca was doing to her.

“Can I taste you?” Becca asked, putting Serena in panic mode.

“I’m not shaved like you are,” Serena responded. “I’m not even trimmed.”

“I know,” Becca looked into her eyes. “I can feel your curls. I want you, Serena. I don’t care if you’re shaved or waxed or trimmed or none of those things. Besides, I think going all natural would look so hot on you.”

Serena let Becca take off her pajama pants and her underwear, her feeling of self-consciousness fading away as Becca kissed down her body. She stopped just below her belly button and reached for Serena’s hand, waiting for her to squeeze it to make sure she was okay.

Becca parted her lips and placed delicate kisses on her, coating her lips in Serena’s wetness. No one had ever tasted her before and the anticipation was becoming too much for Serena to handle. Sensing what she needed, Becca placed the tip of her tongue to her clit, slowly tracing circles around it.

“Beck,” Serena moaned.

Becca gripped Serena’s thighs as she began to gently suck on Serena’s clit, stopping every so often to alternate between that and running her tongue along Serena’s folds, not wanting to leave any part of her neglected.

“Feels so good, baby,” Serena said softly. It was a new sensation for her. Becca’s softness and desire to pleasure her feeling better than anything she had ever experienced in her life.

“I love the way you taste.”

She felt Becca wrap her lips around her clit and gently move her tongue back and forth, increasing in speed and intensity with Serena’s moans. Serena closed her eyes tightly and wondered where she should put her hands. She wanted to touch Becca, but she could barely gather enough strength to do anything other than grip the sheets.

Becca knew she wasn’t able to go inside Serena, but she teased her opening with gentle caresses to awaken the nerve endings there. Serena felt herself dripping and she debated if she was ready to fully let Becca in before grinding on her and taking in just the tip of one of her fingers. The intimacy of it coupled with the feeling of Becca’s mouth sucking harder on her clit made Serena feel as if she could no longer hold back.

“Becca,” she moaned. “Becca, I’m－” she couldn’t even get herself to say it, but her moaning and gripping the sheets was more than enough to let Becca know. Her body tensed before she felt herself let go. At that moment, she no longer cared about finals or the pressure put on her to be perfect. All that mattered was her Becca and their newfound connection with each other.

“You did so good, baby. Your moaning was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard,” Becca said as she held her afterward. “How do you feel?”

“Better than I have ever felt in my whole life,” Serena responded, still slightly out of breath.

“Are you ready to work on your paper again?”

“No,” Serena buried her face in Becca’s neck.

“Do you wanna go out to dinner with the girls?”

“No,” Serena pouted. “Can’t we just stay here and do this all night?”

“We can,” Becca caressed her back. “We can stay in this bed all night if you want to.”

“Good, because it’s your turn now.”

#beccarena

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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Miles Between Us Chapter 10 ~The Art of Non-Communication

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Mediation

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Jamie was removed from the noise of Lallybroch's homely routine when he stepped inside the shower that barely allotted for his breadth and height. He stroked the erection he'd been sporting since he'd woken up from his dreams of Claire, his elbow occasionally hitting the wall. If he kept this pace up, there would be some damaged tiles to answer for by the time he finally climaxed.

Creamy pale skin and amber eyes seeped through his mind, and he stifled a groan, the throbbing flesh in his hand swelling to the point of anguish. It was the reason he'd escaped to the shower when his dad had woken him, the image of Claire still vivid and the need to spill urgent. But the act of pleasuring himself was tainted with guilt. It didn't feel right using the memory of them together to find completion when he'd left her on her own. Not only did it make him a sick lecherous human being, but his action defied all reason and logic.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't be depriving themselves if they had what he and Claire had, but instead, here he was, on self-imposed retreat, his hungry thoughts reliving that time she'd been on her knees taking his entire length in her sweet, sweet mouth. Depravity kicked in, and his body responded to the memory in a fast, fluid rush. Every moral compass he'd had, went from dried cement to loose sand, and nothing could contain the rampant desire to relieve the pressure between his legs.

He propped his left hand on the wet wall and quickened the pace of his strokes, the tight fist travelling from the base of his hardness to the engorged tip.

"Christ," he gritted, hoping he could finish without the repercussion of self-loathing and feeling like an unredeemable bastard.

Ye left her! In tears!

It's for her own good. I'm taking steps to make myself better ...for her.

What if she gets sick and tired of waiting for ye to sort out yer issues?

No, no ...she understands.

Ye havenae called her.

I'll see her after the therapy, for fuck sake.

Guilt made him want to dim the image of Claire sucking him, but the heavy sack hung between his thighs wouldn't be wheedled into emptying without envisioning her.

He was so close. He replayed Claire's most recent voice message in his head, her voice husky and yearning. She must have been in bed wearing nothing but his shirt. I love you, Jamie. I wish I could hold you right now and ease your pain.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie groaned as convulsion racked his body. "Christ, Sassenach." His seed spurted from his cock in what felt like an endless surge of the tide. Back and forth until he was compelled to release his flesh to brace himself with both hands on the tiled surface while the remnant of his release washed down onto the shower floor.

The water had turned tepid by the time reality came streaming back in. Steeling himself, Jamie waited for the chitter-chatter in his head to start reprimanding, telling him what a sick bastard he was, but nothing came. It was quiet. Notably quiet, in fact, and the prolonged silence was too unusual for comfort and almost deafening. The voices had been his life long companion, and it seemed like someone had muted the noises. The only sound he heard was the sound of his breathing and the shower spray hitting the surfaces.

He almost jumped at the loud rapping on the door. "Jamie! Ye're gonnae be late for yer therapy appointment," Willie called out, impatience lacing his voice.

He blew out a breath. "Two minutes!" he shouted. Damn it!

"Two minutes," Willie repeated, and he strode off, the sound of his heavy footsteps making creaking sounds on the wooden floor.

Therapy! He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it would mean bringing him closer to living a normal life with Claire, he'd take his chances. He had his future waiting for him in his cottage, and God knew what was going through her mind with his prolonged absence. There's a possibility she could decide right there, and then, she'd had enough, and he could be returning to an empty home. Fuck that! No' gonnae happen.

Wrenching a curse from the depths of his soul, he grabbed a towel and dried himself in record time. No more messing about. It was time to regain back the rein to his life. After his therapy, he was returning back to his Sassenach.

..........

Jamie hadn't replied to Claire's multiple voice messages, so she'd stopped sending them, thinking he needed a break. If it hadn't been for Willie checking up on her, Rollo needing to be walked and her own work keeping her busy, she would have gone out of her mind.

She found solace in knowing he was safe with his family and sorting out his issues and tried not to dwell on the theory that she might be the reason for his worsening condition; otherwise, it would mean giving up on them and walking out of his life for his own good. They'd both had a traumatic start to childhood. If anything, their shared experience should bring them together ...well, at least she was hoping that was the case.

As long as she was busy, she was absolutely fine. But it hurt being apart from Jamie. The minute she unwinded from her daytime activities, the feeling of abandonment crept in, and she felt lost and empty. An all-consuming gloom would lurk, overwhelming her, and tears would start to fall. It had been only two days since Jamie left, but she was already fearing she'd return to London without seeing him again. It's just not fair. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep them apart, and if that was the case, they'd never really had a chance from the start. Such thoughts would lead to a part of her wishing they'd never met because it was like being shown what happiness with someone you love could be, only to be yanked back out of reach.

She glanced out the kitchen window and realised it had begun to rain, the grey skies echoing her sombre mood. Frustrated, she mentally shook herself. There were a lot of things to do, and her uncle would be arriving in a couple of days. She hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had happened with Jamie, but that was a worry she'd have to deal with later. Because of all days, Tom Christie had called earlier, arranging to meet with her this afternoon to further discuss his book's publication. She hadn't anticipated meeting up with him for another week or more. Maybe it was a good thing he'd decided to show up. It would certainly be a much-needed distraction from the growing worries she had of Jamie. But first, she needed to book a bed and breakfast room in the village centre, a request her uncle had explicitly stressed as he didn't want to stay in Jamie's cottage to watch them canoodle, as he'd gruffly pointed out. But Claire highly doubted there would be any danger of his uncle witnessing that anytime soon.

Grabbing her coat and bag, she headed out. She was just stepping across the threshold when she caught sight of Jamie's sister walking towards her. What is she doing here? The last time she'd seen Jenny was when they were first introduced, and back then, she hadn't failed to notice the lukewarm reception. She'd tried her best to dismiss it as overly protective sibling behaviour. But something had been niggling in her mind lately ever since Willie mentioned Jenny's meddling with Jamie's love life.

Bracing herself, she forced a smile. "Hi, I'm just on my way out. Does Jamie need some fresh shirts?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I can quickly grab some if that's what you came here for."

There was an awkward silence. "I ...ah, I'm here to see ye." Jenny held up a plastic container. "Oh, and ma made these ... it's rhubarb pie. And she's asking after ye."

"Oh, that's thoughtful. How are ..."

"Do ye have a moment?" Jenny interrupted out of the blue.

Claire paused. Though feeling like she was in this weird bubble filled with fog and not in the mood for small talk or niceties, she stepped back and waved Jamie's sister in. "Sure. I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

Jenny nodded gratefully and stepped inside the cottage. Claire watched her cross the room to place the rhubarb pie and her shoulder bag on the dining table. She started to wring her hands, possibly because she'd realised Claire wasn't going to initiate the talk.

"Jamie is taking steps to get better," Jenny began, facing her.

"I know."

"Of course, you do."

Claire tamped down the urge to roll her eyes. "From what Jamie's told me, that's what he's been doing all his life, hasn't he?"

"Yes, that's true."

She sighed, impatience beginning to creep in. "Jenny, why are you really here? Please let's not pretend that you like me. You practically ignored me when we first met, and you've made no attempt whatsoever to get to know me. I am not expecting us to be the best of mates just because I'm with Jamie, but I do expect manners. So, I am asking very kindly if there's a reason for you taking over my precious time, please spit it out."

Jenny's eyebrows hit her hairline. "I ...uh ...I came because I wanted to see you. To check if ye're alright."

"Willie's been doing that but thank you anyway." She had no time for pussyfooting around. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she made a move to leave. "Well, I need to get going. Please thank your mum for me for the pie. I'll have it later with coffee when I return. And regards to your da as well." She pulled the door open.

"Wait ..."

"Yes?"

Jenny let out a rickety inhale. "I'm sorry, okay? I came to apologise. You're right. I was downright rude." Her lips barely moved when she said the words. It was as if it's taking a lot out of her to admit to her faults. "I have no right to meddle in my brother's affairs, moreso make ye feel unwelcome when ye're the one Jamie wants to be with." Her shoulders lost most of their tension, but the lines of her body were still strained tight. "I was worried about my brother making trips to London, and ye ken the reason why. I thought by not acknowledging ye, ye would eventually go away for good. I ken it was wrong. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did."

"But making me go away wouldn't have made a difference to his condition. Jamie would have continued to have those panic attacks."

"I ken," Jenny shrugged. "It was a dumb move, and I feel stupid for it. I realise that now. I dinnae ken what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, Claire. Can we start all over again and be friends?"

Claire felt a spark of sympathy for Jenny. In that brief moment of admission, she'd kind of started to like the girl in front of her. Though she knew it would take a while before they could converse without feeling awkward, at least this was a start. Claire smiled genuinely for the first time. "Of course. I understand now why you felt the way you did." She glanced at her watch. "But in as much as I'd like to continue this bonding, I really need to go. I have a few errands to run. Shall we talk another time?"

"Oh aye, I completely forgot ye have someplace to go." She whipped around to grabbed her bag but knocked it to the floor instead, spilling its contents. "Ach, so clumsy of me," she muttered, getting onto her knees. "Ye go ahead, Claire. I have a spare key. I'll lock up once I'm done,

Claire immediately crouched down to help, grabbing feminine bits and bobs that were scattered on the rug. "Two pair of hands are always quicker getting the job done," she assured her.

"Aye, I guess so," Jenny mumbled as she skimmed the area with her eyes looking for anything she missed.

Claire scooped the loose pennies that had rolled off and slotted them into Jenny's bag. Then she picked up a slip of paper and was about to hand it to Jenny when she realised it was a newspaper clipping with her surname printed on it. Curious, Claire unfolded it and was surprised to see it was a small article from Oxford Mail about her family home, including a small line mentioning her as an heiress. Though she was aware of the article's existence, she was shocked to see it in Jenny's possession. What is Jenny doing with this?

Blood drained from her face when she recalled Willie's story about Jenny playing matchmaker between Geneva and Jamie. Didn't Willie say Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny's perfect solution to Lallybroch's financial problem? Claire skimmed the familiar article once more, the worth of her property jumping out of the paper: three million pounds. A sudden sharp pain slammed into her chest.

Claire held up the newspaper cutting to Jenny's face. "Why do you have this?" she whispered through numb lips.

Jenny's face was white as a sheet. "I ...it was given to me."

"Is this the reason why you're suddenly nice?"

"No!" Jenny licked her lips, thoughts racing behind her blue eyes. "I swear to God, I meant what I said earlier ...that I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with ..." She waved a hand towards the paper Claire was holding. "...that."

Claire scrambled to her feet. "You're sorry?" Her voice was high-pitched and unnatural, but she couldn't help it. There's a rumbling earthquake beginning to take place inside her. "When did you start feeling sorry, Jenny? After you read this?" She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the floor. "Did you really want to be my friend? Or was that all hogwash too?"

"Claire, please." Misery slashed across her face. "I realised my mistake when Jamie took off with his car the other night, and Willie spent hours looking for him. My parents, husband and I were up, and we were worried sick. My constant meddling has made him fled and taken him away from ye." She wrung her hands together. "I was a bloody idiot for thinking I was doing what's best for my brother when, in fact, I was making things worse. And Jamie's now miserable because he thinks it's all his fault when really, it's mine. Ye have to believe me when I say that piece of paper was given to me. I never sought it myself. It was handed to me."

"Good God, are you listening to yourself?" Her voice had been reduced to a whisper. All she could see was Jamie's guilt and tortured face that day when he'd told her about his fight with Jenny. His pained expression before he'd sped off to the night and her fear of the unknown. The many times he'd excused and apologised for his sister's behaviour because he thought Jenny was doing it out of love when Claire could clearly see it was all out of selfishness. "Let me get this straight ...you only recognised your mistake because you became worried sick after your brother took off. Are you even aware that you've been treating him like an imbecile all this while as if he can't decide for himself? This was never about him, Jenny, is it? You're only thinking about yourself. The other night scared the bejesus out of you because you knew well you were part of the reason he took off. Tell me this ...how does it feel like to be riddled with guilt now, huh? Try multiplying that guilt by a thousandfold and remind yourself that's what Jamie feels every day of his life. And if you think saying sorry will make things right again, you need your head thoroughly examined. Jamie loves you despite all your meddling, and you unashamedly continued to manipulate him. So excuse me if I have trouble believing a single word you're saying now. Because you know what the bloody hell this looks like? Your apologies to me sound like you're trying to manipulate me as well. And all because I happen to own an impressive three million pound property."

"No!" Jenny shook her head in despair. "Everything else is true ...but not that about yer property." There's a tremor in her voice and shame in her eyes. "I stopped by yesterday to apologise to ye, but ye werenae home, and when Mrs Fitz from across the road saw me, she handed me that newspaper clipping. I swear to God, Claire, I came to ye even before I knew ye had that property."

Claire couldn't stand there and listen anymore, not after what she'd gone through the last couple of days. She needed to let all her frustration out, or she'd implode. "I don't trust you, Jenny. If drivel could bounce, you'd be in the bloody orbit by now. Unfortunately, that won't happen, so I'm out of here. I can't stand being here any longer." The words exploded out of her and popped in the air like bright red fireworks.

Jenny fell back a step and gasped. Claire was shocked too with the words that came out of her mouth. But she took that opportunity to rush out of the cottage, not caring if it was still raining, only focusing on getting as far away from Jenny as possible.

She'd just crossed the street when a vehicle screeched to a stop and reversed. Claire kept on walking, still reeling from her conversation with Jenny.

"Miss Beauchamp?"

She stopped and glanced into the Land Rover window that stopped by her side and noticed a familiar face. "Yes?"

The man tipped his baseball cap on his head and smiled. "It's me, Tom Christie."

"Oh ... it's you ... you're early!" was all she could say, too surprised for words.

"Actually, I'm on my way home to change clothes before our meeting. Do ye need a ride? I noticed ye dinnae have a brolly with ye, and it's raining."

Claire glanced back at the cottage and saw Jenny standing at the doorway, looking at her with that still ashen face. She'd heard rumours in the village about Tom being a ladies' man and knew what it would look like to Jenny if she got into the Land Rover with him. But she didn't give a flying fig. Let her gossip! Smiling, she nodded at Tom. "Yes, please. To the village centre if it's no trouble."

He grinned. "Nae bother at all. Hop in."

..........

"Remind me again why I'm here," Willie mumbled under his breath as they followed a young woman down a long hallway lined with modern paintings. "I thought I made it clear it should be Claire attending this therapy with ye. In case ye need reminding, I got our business to run."

Jamie sighed. "I'd rather ye're here. Ye ken my condition better than anyone."

"Is it Geneva ye're worried about?" his older brother asked in a low voice.

"God, no. I'd be more worried if Jenny came with me. Christ, she'd been pushing Geneva and me together for as long as I can remember. I ken the lass took a fancy in me, but that's all it ever was. I'm just concerned it's gonnae be weird since we ken each other."

Willie glanced at him with understanding. "There's nae avoiding it, lad. We live in a small village, and everyone knows everyone. It's the bane of living in such a place. We just have to make do with what we have."

"Aye, that's true."

The young woman in front of them turned. "The last one on the right," she smiled, pointing at the white door. Jamie wanted to say he knew his way around and that it was the same office as his former therapist but decided not to and returned her smile instead.

With Willie close behind him, he stepped forward and knocked lightly against the door. A feminine voice answered from the inside, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a familiar, cosy space and Geneva, dressed in a black pantsuit with her hair done in a bun. She was sat in a dark leather armchair, looking them over with her transparent-rimmed glasses. If she was surprised to see Willie with him, she hid it well.

"Mr Fraser, it's nice to see you again." Smiling warmly, she stood up and held out her hand for him. Taking it, she gave him a firm handshake before doing the same to Willie and motioning them towards the over-size beige leather sofa arranged in the middle of the room. "Please take a seat." Like a couple of schoolboys, they both did as they were told.

"Before anything else," she began, looking at Jamie. "I have you here for one on one therapy. Is there a reason why you brought your brother with you?"

Jamie cleared his throat and licked his lips. "I, ah, wanted him here for moral support."

"Fair enough. So what can I do for you?" She smiled, crossing her legs and reclining back into her armchair, a clipboard resting on her thigh.

Jamie anxiously glanced at Willie, but his brother only shrugged. "I dinnae ken where to start. Ever since yer predecessor left, I havenae been to therapy because I didnae feel comfortable seeing a therapist who knows me on a personal level. It kinda feels odd."

She steepled her fingers together, her blue eyes narrowing on him. "I understand this is out of your comfort zone and probably, for some, highly unusual. But I'd like to make it clear that I take my job seriously, and I hold myself to the highest professional standard. Whatever friendship I have with your sister will have no effect whatsoever on what would transpire within these walls. If you wish to proceed, please take a few deep breaths and just forget that you know me. In here, I am Dr Dunsany, and you are Mr Fraser."

Jamie considered her words as she waited patiently for his reply. After a minute of contemplation, he finally nodded and took a few cleansing breaths. "Fine."

She smiled. "So, first things first. What prompted you to finally see a therapist?"

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "I'm in a serious relationship." Jamie thought he saw an ever so slight arching of her eyebrow but immediately dismissed it as his imagination. "And my condition and the panic attacks are hurting our relationship. I figured in order for us to move forward, I needed to take steps in getting better."

Geneva picked up her clipboard and started scribbling. "What do you believe your girlfriend thinks about your condition?"

Jamie smiled briefly at the thought of Claire. "Weel, she's very understanding and very patient, and she's taken my condition in a stride. Like the rest of my family, she thinks I'm suffering from suppressed guilt and emotions."

Geneva paused and closely appraised him. "Why do you think she thinks you have suppressed guilt and emotions?"

His heart began to increase its pace, and his throat tightened. "Because we were both there when her parents died. She was able to move on, but I couldnae," the words came out rapidly.

A whoosh of breath came from Willie.

"Why do you think she was able to move on and you couldn't?" she pushed, seemingly unaffected by Jamie's revelation.

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Because it's my fault that she grew up without a family."

He heard Willie's breath hitch, but Geneva ignored his brother.

"And why do you think it's your fault?"

His mouth became dry, and his tongue thick. "I didnae run fast enough to get help when their car crashed. If I had, she wouldnae be orphaned today. If I was stronger, I wouldnae have needed to run off and get my godfather, and I could have pulled the door open myself and saved her parents as well."

"You look like a strong man, Mr Fraser. Why do you think you needed to run and get help to pull the door open?"

"I wasnae big enough back then. I was only ten." He dropped his head into his hand. "And she was so wee ...crying for her ma. All I could do was hold her."

He started to hyperventilate as the image of Harry staring at him through the window, sprung to life. It was the last image he saw before the car had exploded.

Sensing his discomfort, Geneva stood from her armchair and retrieved two bottles of mineral water from the mini-fridge, handing them each to the brothers. They both gratefully accepted, taking large gulps.

When he got his breathing back under control, she proceeded. "I understand now your frustration at not being big enough to carry the task out yourself and why you had to get your godfather." She scribbled a few more notes on her clipboard. "I'm going to go back to the question you haven't answered yet. Why do you think your girlfriend was able to move on from her parents' death?"

He squashed the empty bottle of mineral water. "She was too young then to understand any of it, just a wee bairn when it happened."

"And so were you."

"She was five, and I was ten. I was old enough to be able to do something about it, but I couldn't."

"Your godfather, who was old enough and stronger than you, was unable to do anything further. Do you think it was your godfather's fault?"

"No! Of course, not. He tried his best. We got her ...Claire, who's m-my girlfriend now, out first and my godfather made me take her to safety. But the car caught fire, and it exploded."

"So it's not your godfather's fault, and yet you think it was your fault."

"Yes!"

"Why would you think, after all the efforts you and your godfather have done to try and save your girlfriend's parents, it's still your fault?"

"It was the way he looked at me."

"Who looked at you?"

"Claire's father. Just before the car exploded."

"How did he look at you?"

"He was just staring at me."

"And you can't get that out of your head?"

"No."

A mild frown of concentration descended across Geneva's face as she flipped through the notes on her clipboard. She reached out for a manila folder on a coffee table by her side and browsed through it too. "This is a great start, Mr Fraser," she continued. "From what I've here in your history with your former therapist, this is the first time you've ever talked about an experience from your childhood. This is highly interesting. Care to tell me why you've never talked about this before."

"It's a memory that I've forgotten, and it's just resurfaced recently."

She arched an eyebrow. "How recently?"

"A few days ago."

"Can you remember what triggered the memories to come back?"

"The night I met my girlfriend's uncle on video chat."

"So, prior to that night, you had no recollection of the forgotten memory, is that correct?"

"Aye."

"Why do you think your girlfriend's uncle triggered all the memory to come back?"

His fingers began to pick at the water bottle label. "He looks exactly my girlfriend' father."

A long silence ensued.

Geneva placed the clipboard by her side and uncrossed her legs. "That will be all for today, Mr Fraser. We've covered enough to have something to work on."

Jamie's head shot up. "So that's it? That was quick," he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, we're far from done, Mr Fraser, but you've revealed more than I anticipated, so I decided to stop while we're ahead. Thank you for answering all questions as openly as possible."

"So what's yer diagnosis?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I believe you have a lot of misplaced guilt about your past that may be hindering you from moving on. So ...what I would like you to do is ...I want you to think about how you want your future to look like. Think really hard and try to dig deep. Next time we catch up, we'll discuss everything in details." She stood up, and Jamie and Willie followed suit. "I'll see you next week. My assistant will write down the date of our next meeting. You can pick up your appointment card on the way out," she smiled, opening the door and ushering them out.

The brothers walked out quietly together, both lost in their own thoughts.

"That wasnae too bad, was it?" Willie asked as they stepped out of the building.

Jamie shook his head. "No, no' at all." His head was still buzzing from the session, so he didn't really have much opinion to offer.

"Perhaps next time, ye can bring Claire with ye."

At the mention of her name, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. He'd silenced it all morning as he'd prepared himself for the therapy but was disappointed to see there was no new message from her. "She hasnae messaged."

"I'm no' surprised. You havenae been returning her calls. And ye have no excuse, lad, because I left ye a charger at Lallybroch."

Jamie followed his brother close behind as they made their way to the car. "How do ye know I've no' been returning her calls?"

"She told me."

"How is she?"

"Find out yersel'."

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

His heart and brain must have swapped places because suddenly, his heart seemed twice as heavy, and his brain thumped against his skull. "M-my Claire?"

Willie tipped his head like he's on the brink of calling Ian an eejit. "Hold up, this could all be just an innocent thing. Wasnae Claire supposed to be meeting with someone from here for some book publication?"

"Nae way!" Ian shook his head. "Christie doesnae look like the type to string a sentence together, never mind write a book."

"Alright," Jamie breathed, propping his hands on the edge of the car's roof. His brain was barely functioning because it was knocking against his temple, making him see red. He'd completely underestimated his ability to let her go, thinking he was doing it for her own good. Claire hadn't called today because she thought he'd given up. Ah, shite! He felt he was going to be sick. "I need to go and see her. Now."

"Fuck!" Willie muttered. "I'm coming with ye." Then he bent down to Ian's eye level and pointed his index finger at his brother-in-law. "Next time, run this kind of info by me first."

Ian smirked. "Fine. But I'm coming too. I'm up for seeing a bit of nefariousness."

Jamie was already in the car, fastening his seat belt. "Let's go!"

Dear Readers,

Whew, that was a long chapter. I'm literally drained; nevertheless, I'm feeling a sense of satisfaction that I can post it today. My eyes are wonky, though, from editing, and I was about to go through it again when I thought, ah bugger it, I will do the grammar check tomorrow.

Before I say nighty-night, thanks for your feedback from the previous chapter, and I'm looking forward to what you think of this next one. I know it's slow going, but I really wanted to cover as many plot holes as possible. Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. Anyway, take care always and keep spreading kindness and love. Until the next update, much love! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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pixie88 · 3 years ago

Text

Oxford to the Cotswolds

Chapter 23 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: So here it is the LAST chapter of Always the Bridesmaid. I kinda feel sad but I know it’s not the end of H&L.Thanks so much @aussieez for proof reading. Thank you again to all those following this story and continue to follow it, you have no idea how much it means to me that you take the time to read.😘

I’m finalizing my tag list for this over the next few days, so again if you like to be tagged just let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & NSFW

Word Count: 2914

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy! 😘

A week later.

After their little spat, Harry decided maybe now was the time to take up his parents offer of using their cottage. They had their trip planned out, they would leave London on the Sunday morning stop at Oxford for a day or two and get to his parents' cottage on the Tuesday afternoon. "We are staying in an old prison that has been converted into a hotel?" Laila asks as they drove along the M40 "Yeah, I thought it was unusual and right up your street?" he takes his eyes off the road for a second to wink at her "You know the whole cops and robbers thing"

She rolls her eyes and laughs, "I'm guessing you're the criminal?" he smirks. "Nah, I'm a law abiding citizen, my love. You seem like the troublemaker here!" she laughs, "I've been looking up all the sites we need to visit while we are there"

He knew she wouldn't be able to visit a place without doing her research.

"Where do you need to visit then?" she smiles at the fact he asked "So, there is the obvious Bridge of Sighs, which is kind of a copy of the Rialto Bridge in Venice, Carfax tower the views of Oxford, from there are supposed to be amazing, Martyr's Cross which is a cross they have in the road where two Anglican bishops and the Archbishop of Canterbury were burned, oh and there is a Harry Potter tour around the University as some scenes were filmed there and Oxford Castle which is right next door to our prison hotel!"

"Sounds like a couple of days of learning!" he laughs at her "NOT just learning! There is a bar with magical cocktails, ones in test tubes, with fire and even smoke!" she's excited.

Harry doesn't know it, but Laila is a bit of a history buff, if she goes somewhere new she will research the hell out of it. Not long after they moved to London Laila was still adjusting to life in the city, Ezra could see his granddaughter struggling, so he planned a day out with her.

They stood on platform 5 at Harrow and Wealdstone Station "Grandad, where are we going?" she asked him "You will see when we get there!" he smiles at her. The train ride wasn't long. Fifty minutes later they pulled into Bletchley Station "Grandad, why are we here?" he chuckled "And I thought you knew everything about World War 2!" he winks at her, but it doesn't click until 10 minutes later when they were standing outside Bletchley Park.

Laila's eyes are wide "Oh my god!! This....this is where Alan Turing cracked the enigma machine!!" she squealed with excitement before hugging him. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she's beaming, she takes his hand and drags him through the doors.

This was one thing he and his granddaughter had in common, was their interest in World War 2. They spent hours looking around the huts where it all happened. He never saw her face light up so much as she looked around at the artefacts. They had a look around Station X (National Radio Centre) and when they finally reached the Mansion Laila was overjoyed "Grandad, just think all those people that helped crack the code have been in this very room...no house!!"

They spend hours looking around, before grabbing something to eat at hut 4 "Grandad, just think this is where they would get lunch or even dinner!" she looks around the hut "Laila, just think while they were here no one knew! They had to lie about working here, they couldn't tell anyone even family members. They had to take a vow of silence" he said.

This rang true, as years later Max was building an annex for a couple at the end of their garden and when he got talking to the Nan, whom the annex was being built for she told him how her mum worked at Bletchley Park and had to take a vow of silence which she kept until the park reopened as a museum in 1994.

When it was time to go home Laila couldn't thank him enough for taking her there "Just don't tell your brothers!" she laughs, "I've taken the Bletchley Park vow of silence!"

They finally arrived, Harry pulls into a parking space outside the hotel and a valet comes over Harry hands him the keys and they head in with their cases. They check in; "you will be on the fifth floor in room 135, so take the lift to the right once you go through those doors. Here is your room key and enjoy your stay!" she smiles. "I'm sure we will!" Harry grins at her before they make their way to their room.

"Did you ever watch the TV show Bad Girls?" Laila asks him as the lift takes them to the fifth floor. "I did! Izzy made me watch it with her. That woman that played Yvonne plays Shirley from Eastenders now, doesn't she?" she laughs, "I thought you don't watch it?" she nudges him as the doors open "I don't but when you put it on what am I supposed to do?" he winks.

"129...130...4 more rooms to go," she calls behind her. "Actually 5 more my love," he laughs, she turns to look at him "No! You don't include our room!" she protests. "I think you do," he laughs at her. "NO! No, you don't," he doesn't argue with her.

They dump their bags and head out to look around the city "Oh, they have a Harry Potter tour" Laila's tone is ecstatic, Harry sighs "Don't you want to do it?" she asks "If you want to we will do it" her eyes scan his face "Did the kids in school use to take the piss out of you in school because you had the same name?" she asks, he laughs, "No, if anything they used to call me...oh what was his fat mate called?"

"Crabbe?" she looks at him. "Yeah, that's the one," he offers a weak smile, she runs her fingers through his hair before her arms cling around his neck "Well, who's laughing now? I bet a lot of the girls and boys that bullied you regret it now! You are handsome, fit, funny and you are mine" she winks, he can't help smiling at her "And I have a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend" he says making her blush.

"We'll do something else," she smiles at him and kisses his lips "No, we'll do the tour if you want to!" she looks how long the tour is "2 hours, argh, I'd rather be doing some kinda cardio" he looks at her confused and she laughs, "use your imagination, you are a personal trainer" she winks. He quickly gets the hint "Right, what do we need to look at before I drag you back to the hotel?" he grins at her.

Later.

After dinner, they had back up to their room, "I'm going for a shower" Laila winks at him "OK, I'll grab one after you," she smirks "I was thinking more along the lines of you joining me," she doesn't have to ask him twice, he picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist as he walks them to the bathroom.

After their shower, Laila notices the chocolate on the bed as she's drying herself. "Oh wow! They're shaped like handcuffs!" she giggles "Hmmm.....that reminds me," he wanders over to his case in just his towel and pulls out a pair of metal handcuffs. "And what do you intend to do with those Mr. Taylor?" she bites her lip "Oh, maybe make an arrest," he winks at her, she notices his arousal through the towel "Oh, on what grounds?" she asks.

"Hmmm....for being stubborn and sarcastic, but also gorgeous, funny, adorable and extremely impossible not to fall in love with" he stands in front of her, pulling off her towel until it drops to the floor. He cups her face, his thumb runs over her lips before capturing them with his, he lifts her arms above her head and his hands run up her arms before he suddenly cuffs her hands.

She smirks against his lips "Oh, PC Taylor, what do I have to do to get you to uncuff me?" his kiss becomes more intense. She drops her hands, so they are wrapped around his neck, he moves them until the backs of her knees hit the bed. They fall onto it with Harry landing on top of her "Well, Miss. Carelli, I think you can convince me somehow" his fingers finds her core.

She hisses at the contact, his other hand comes up and pins her arms above her head as he found her slick petals. "I thought I was the one who had to.....oh shit...convince you to free me," she can barely get her words out, his lips find her pulse line "How exactly are you planning on doing that?" he smirks against her neck.

"Stand up and I'll show you," he does as she says, she sits up and pulls off his towel. Grasping him, she works her hand along him a few times before her mouth follows the same path, he groans as his hips thrust forward in need. Her pillowy lips work along his hardened member, he grunts as her jaw slacks, taking him in further "Fuck...." he mutters.

He rocks his hips back and forth as her tongue runs along the ridges of his cock, he grips a fistful of her hair. His head fell back as he groans, "That's...it gorgeous! Fuck...". She hums against him and her pace moves faster. His knees bucks, her apex is throbbing as she feels him nearing the edge "Laila....I'm...gonna....fuck!" he jerks as he hits his climax and he groans.

She releases him from her mouth and looks up at him. "Are you going to uncuff me now?" she asks as she's sat on her feet, he looks down at her with a grin. He lifts her up and throws her onto the bed, making her giggle "Hey, you said would take these off!" he has a mischievous grin on his face. "Well, Miss. Carelli! I prefer to have you like this, sorry." he captures her lips.

"That's not fair......." she protests, but she soon cuts off as he moves down her body to her centre, his hands grasp the back of both her thighs. His tongue moves apart her folds "Oh Harry!" she moves her arms to run her fingers through his hair. He pulls away, lifts her arms above her head again and kisses her lips "Keep them there!" he tells her before moving back to her core.

Her breathing hitches, he sucks against her clit, making her cry out "Ohhh"

A little later.

His legs are entwined with hers beneath the sheets, she's cuddled up against him as her head rests on his chest "When we get back do you think we should look at properties?" she lifts up and places her hand against his chest stroking his chest hair, looking up to him. He smirks at her, "definitely!" he strokes her hair away from her face "What if we have a look online now?" she stares into his ocean blue eyes and bites her lip waiting for his response.

He reaches for his phone "Let's have a look," he loads up and scrolls through the properties. "What are we going for?" he asks "Somewhere with gates, private drive and pool," she laughs, he digs his fingers into her ribs and she tries to wiggle away "Ahhhh! Harry! Stop!!" his phone is discarded, he cups her face and claims her lips.

His body covers hers and he takes her against.

The next day.

They are back in the car on the way to Harry's parents cottage in Wyck Rissington, Gloucestershire.

Along the way they find a supermarket and grab a few essentials before they continued their drive. They arrive at the cottage 10 minutes later "Aww wow! This is cute!" she smiles as they get out the car. "And it's ours for the next few days" he winks at her.

They head inside, "wow, look at those beams!" she points up at the ceiling. "Have you been here before?" she looks to Harry. "Nah, Mum and Dad haven't let any of us use it...well until now" he winks.

Once they bring in their bags inside, he takes her hand and they have a look around when Harry spots a hot tub outside "Oh, what do we have here?" he nods as he opens the door "I didn't bring a swimsuit!" he has a devilish grin. "Who said anything about swimsuits?" she bit her lip and shook her head at him.

Harry runs Laila a bubble bath with candles around the tub and told her to relax while he cooked dinner. The water was warm against her skin as she sinks into the bathtub, a minute or so later there is a knock on the bathroom door before Harry wanders in with a glass of wine "Here you go, my love," she smiles up at him as she takes the glass "Thank you! So, what's for dinner?"

He leans over kisses her nose and winks "You'll find out when it's on the table. Now enjoy." He leaves her to it.

34 minutes later.

Laila walks into the bedroom and Harry has laid out a dress grey dress on the bed for her to wear. She smiles and starts to get dressed, underneath she puts on some lacy lingerie she had brought for the trip. When she's dressed, she goes in search for Harry, as soon as she saw him, she blushes but can't help but laugh.

"Harry!! What are you doing?" he's stood in the kitchen in just an apron and his boxers, he looks up at her and grins. "You've heard of the Naked Chef right?" he winks. "But he isn't actually naked!" she laughs at him. "I'm not either! I was thinking about it but I thought that would be unsanitary. I see you're wearing the dress I picked out for you." She makes her way over to him.

"Yeah, but the view would be...very sexy," she squeezes his behind "What's for dinner?" she looks around him on the kitchen side "Ah, ah, ah go and sit down," he moves, so she can't see, she sighs, "Fine!" Laila pulls out her phone and sends a picture she took earlier.

Laila looks over to Harry, biting her lip and he catches her checking him out. "You realise I'm not dinner right?" He says. She looks up catching his eye, "might not be dinner, but there is always dessert!" She winks twirling her hair. He chuckles turning back to cooking.

She puts down her phone as he comes over with 2 plates, placing them on table. "Ooo spaghetti and meatballs!" he pours them more wine, Laila twirls her fork collecting the spaghetti "Did you ever see the film The Lady and the Tramp?" she looks over to him. "I have. Mila made me watch it once." He laughs. "Do think we can do a Lady and the Tramp kiss?" she hold up a a string of spaghetti and he chuckles "We can try. Let me put it in my mouth first" Laila cracks and can't help but laugh "OH MY GOD!!"

"Come on, let's give it ago!" He takes the end of the spaghetti and lifts the other side to Laila, she takes it in her mouth and begins to get closer to Harry until their lips are just above each other's. He brushes his lips lightly over hers before pulling away. "Come on, eat up" he smiles at her and she rolls her eyes at him.

After dinner, he takes their plates. "I'll wash them up," she offers. "You can or I can put them in the dishwasher," he jokes, "Actually, you load the dishwasher. I'm going to start up the hot tub!" she gets up from the table "Already done, my love!" he winks at her. "Oh OK!" she stands and lets her dress fall off her shoulders until it's a puddle on the floor.

He looks her up and down. "I didn't bring a swimsuit, but this will do?" say asks as she makes her way to the back door. His eyes never leave hers, she grins, knowing she had him hook, line and sinker. He quickly closes the dish washer and chases after her, she squeals running from him and towards the door.

@lem-20 @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @irisofpurple @khoicesbyk @txemrn @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @tea-me-kah @casualpostqueen @beautifuluknownvoid @wombatsxkookaburras

Their moans fill the night sky, both are blissfully happy.

Series 2 - Chapter 1

#atb #Always The Bridesmaid #final chapter #original writing #harry x laila #oxford #oxford castle #oxford martyr #oxford university #malmaison oxford #Original Work #original character #original story #@pixie 88 original

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