#hey i did at least manage to make it to the london pop up shop back in february thats a cool thing i did while in the uk

[i-like-gay-books]

dont tell me about paramore in cardiff dont do it!!!!

[skrltwtch]

Graveyard Shift

Prompt: I know the sign says, "No shoes, no shirt, no service", but I just had the WEIRDEST night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early, and I'm really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter. Help? (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,255 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, supernatural

Warnings: Smut

References: 1 Inglourious Basterds

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Graveyard shift is the fucking best — and the fucking worst.

For one, the shop is able to achieve that fine balance between having enough customers to justify its opening hours and keep me on its payroll, and having enough customers to not make me regret my choice of employment while I attempt to sort out my life. The silence that falls over the shop at two o’clock — without fail every night, like the general public know they have better places to be at two o’clock than a corner shop — grants it the perfect atmosphere for self-introspection and self-improvement. Have I learnt anything useful? Let’s … not talk about that.

Now, what’s the downside to this job, you ask? The customers, of course. There are fewer of them in the dead of the night, but God, the ones that do come in … Being situated on one of London’s busiest corners means a colourful clientele at all times of the day. Drunkards and yobs make up a sizeable number of the demographic that contribute to the shop’s cash drawer while I’m on duty. It’s both sickening and fascinating to deal with them. In my nine months of working here, I’ve seen it all — or I thought I have, until my attention is drawn to the naked man at the door.

It’s less than half an hour after sunrise. He doesn’t look like he’s knocked back a drink too many. (Can coffee make me see things I’m not supposed to be seeing at this hour?) He looks to be of sound mind, his franticness to be let inside aside. He’s handsome: his brown waves, wiry physique, and elegant features lend him a startling resemblance to an ancient Greek sculpture. Strangely, there is an abundance of scars all over his body, and not in a manner that’d signal self-harm. They look more consistent with animal scratches. I’m speaking from experience here: I have a cat, though it’s nigh impossible a cat did this to him.

Nonetheless, this ranks in the lower half of the top ten weirdest shit I’ve seen while on the clock.

‘Hello? Hello!’ That ought to be what he’s saying; I don’t proclaim myself to be an expert at lip reading. It’s encouraging that he’s aware of the sign preventing his entry and doesn’t think he’s above it, at least.

I shake my head at him. Rules are rules, mate. They apply even to hot, naked men.

‘Come on! Please?’ — I think.

‘Sorry!’ I shout, and I point at the camera above me. Colin, my manager, is a cool bloke. It’s about as likely that I’d lose my job for letting Mr Naked and Afraid grace the inside of the shop with his presence and providing him with service as it is that Mr Naked and Afraid is on something that isn’t obvious to my innocent eyes. Why tempt fate? There are other corner shops with less draconian policies down the street. I turn away and continue looking at my phone to spare us both our blushes. It is nippy outside …

Fuck it.

I motion for him to come in. I can explain this to Colin, should he decide to review this morning’s security footage on a whim. He’s a Cool Bloke™.

‘Thank you,’ says Mr Naked and Afraid. Fuck, the shop lighting is doing him more favours than he needs. ‘You won’t get in any trouble for this?’

‘Nah. I might get chewed out1 for this, but that’ll be the worst of it.’

‘Sorry. But thank you. Thank you. I’m George.’

Good. Mr Naked and Afraid is becoming a mouthful.

‘I’m Eva. How can I help, George?’

‘Do you have any spare clothes?’

‘It’s just me here, mate.’

‘I know. Can’t hurt to ask.’

Can I say, ‘You have balls’? Is that appropriate at a time like this? I exhale audibly. ‘Give me a second.’ I retreat into the staffroom behind the counter. Colin deserves a better staffroom than a lad hangout. I’ll clean up when there isn’t a naked man waiting on me outside — or not. I’m not their helper. I sort through the coat rack for something suitable. Andrew is the closest to George in stature, I think. Operating on that approximation, I grab Andrew’s jacket and trousers. I don’t want to have to think too hard about what my co-workers look like underneath their clothes. Besides, Andrew’s clothes have been here for ages. He won’t miss them.

‘Try these,’ I say.

‘Thank you. I’ll clean and return them, I promise.’ He reaches over the counter for the clothes.

‘Not so fast. Give me the craziest reason you’re butt naked, and if I like it, you get the clothes.’

‘Really?’

‘I have to tell my manager something. Might as well be something weird so I don’t get chewed out too hard.’

‘Fine.’ He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the shop — in search of inspiration, perhaps. I’d love to hear what he comes up with. He looks like someone with a good sense of humour. If we’d met elsewhere, I’d have thought about asking for his number and then chickening out at the last minute, because women like me don’t get anywhere with men like him. I keep a lookout on the entrance for any customers or co-workers, mostly because I don’t want to share this moment with anyone else.

‘Clock’s ticking, George.’

‘You didn’t say there’s a time limit.’

‘I’m not the one with my arse out in public.’

‘Alright. I’m a werewolf. I must’ve messed something up, because I got out of my flat last night and woke up in Trafalgar Square. I live in Hampstead. See these scars? It’s all me.’

I stare at him. He’s staring back at me, expecting a response. He looks serious. I — I can’t. I burst out laughing. Of all the things I thought I’d hear, that isn’t one of them.

‘That’s one I haven’t heard before. I love it.’

‘Yeah? Can I then —’

‘Not before you answer one more question, wolf boy.’ I mean that nickname with utmost sincerity.

‘Seriously …?’ Red blotches his cheeks. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘Were you born a werewolf or were you bitten?’

‘How is that relevant?’

‘Humour me.’

He rakes his hair with his fingers, and holds his inhalation and blink long enough for it to mean ‘I should’ve gone to the next corner shop’. Little does he know that his exasperation is making him look more attractive. I’ll treasure this moment forever. ‘Born. You don’t see any bite marks, do you?’

‘Touché. Here.’ I pass him the clothes.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

‘No, thank you for the laugh,’ I say, looking away from him as he tries Andrew’s trousers on for size. Andrew’s fashion sense is being wasted on us corner shop plebeians. ‘I love horror and supernatural shit. That was perfect.’

‘Cool.’ For fuck’s sake, he can also pull off the loud, brash prints Andrew favours? This is unfair. ‘I’ll pop these in the washer when I get home, and I’ll return them to you …’

‘I’m working tonight. I’ll be here at ten.’ Technically, I start work at midnight. Andrew’s scheduled for the evening shift today, and I’d love to see his face when George returns with his clothes. I can’t remember how long these specific items have been in the staffroom. Plus, like, ten o’clock is an acceptable time to meet someone who lives in Hampstead and probably has standard working hours, isn’t it? ‘If that’s not too late for you.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks again, Eva.’ He’s said the T word so many times, it’s starting to sound weird to my ears. Semantic satiation — that’s what the phenomenon is called. I learnt this from the 3,722nd post I read on Reddit some nights ago.

‘You’re welcome, wolf boy. See you tonight.’

He grins. ‘See you.’

Just as he turns to leave, I swear, I swear on my copy of The Killing Joke with a frayed spine because I put it in the same bag as my water tumbler with a loose cap, I see a flash of fangs.

✦✧✦✧

‘You’re here early,’ says Andrew.

‘It’s midnight somewhere in the world.’ I don’t join him behind the counter. I’m scheduled to start work at midnight, and that is exactly what I’ll do. Overtime means nothing to me. (I say that like it’s applicable in this instance.) ‘Did a guy come in to look for me?’

‘Nope. Hey, do you know what happened to my trousers and jacket? First one’s floral; second one’s mustard.’ Doesn’t it just sound like a ghastly combination? Andrew can pull it off. So can George — both items at the same time. I’ve only seen Andrew in one or the other.

‘Funny story, that.’

‘Share.’

‘Okay, picture this: It’s fuck o’clock in the wee hours of the morning. Sun’s coming up. I’m on my second tumbler of coffee and running out of things to keep myself entertained. Suddenly, a naked bloke is asking to be let in; he’s begging. He doesn’t look drunk or high. I let him in because I’m a bleeding heart at heart. He asks me for spare clothes. Thank God you treat this place like your second closet. I ask him to hit me with the craziest reason he’s naked to help me decide if I should help him. He says he’s a werewolf.’ I am fighting to hold in my laughter. ‘And he says it with the straightest face you can imagine.’

‘Eva, this bloke was hot, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but —’

‘You’d have given him the clothes no matter what he said.’

‘I didn’t tell you this story for you to call me out like that.’

‘You’re welcome. Does Colin know you breached one of the shop’s sacred creeds?’

‘Does he have to know?’

‘No comment. It’s not my arse on the line.’

‘Colin won’t do me dirty like that. I did a good deed.’

‘… No comment. Am I going to get my stuff back?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘Bollocks, I thought it’s because you like my company.’

‘Why not both?’

The bell above the door jangles, cutting our conversation short. It’s none other than the man of the hour himself. Never have I been this ecstatic to see someone enter the shop. He has no business filling out his grey shirt as well as he is.

‘George! Hi!’ I drown out Andrew’s snicker. Can’t I be excited about speaking with an attractive, charming man who isn’t drunk or in need of goods and services a corner shop can provide in the shop at this time of night? I might also never see him again after this, so as far as I’m concerned, I deserve every second of this.

‘Hello, Eva,’ says George. ‘Got the clothes cleaned like I said I would.’ He shows me the paper bag in his hand. McDonald’s. I can hear Andrew’s heart giving out. ‘Thank you again.’

I take the bag from him and place it on the counter, the golden arches staring Andrew in the face. ‘You’re welcome. You should thank him, too.’ I jerk my thumb at my near-apoplectic co-worker. ‘This is Andrew. The clothes are his.’

‘Thank you,’ George says to the other man, who responds with a tight-lipped nod, still in the midst of computing what he did in a past life to deserve having his clothes returned to him in a McDonald’s paper bag. ‘I followed the instructions on the labels as best I could. If I ruined something, I’d be happy to pay you back for it.’

‘Thanks, mate.’ Andrew takes the clothes out of the bag and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Looks good. You can have the bag back.’ He pushes it toward George with his finger.

‘Okay …’ George takes the bag, flattens and folds it into a neat square, and holds it under his arm. ‘Eva, I can’t — I can’t thank you enough for this morning. Last night was … weird.’ He swallowed.

‘Yeah, sure …’ I wink at him. ‘… wolf boy.’

‘Are you working now?’

‘No, but I will be in’ — I consult my watch — ‘an hour and a half’s time. I came in early because I know I don’t have the same concept of day and night as most people.’

‘Graveyard shift: fun as shit’ is Andrew’s sterling contribution to this part of the conversation. I like that, actually.

‘You didn’t have to — I’m more of a night owl,’ says George. Is that because he has a closer affinity to the night because of what he is? I convince myself it is. ‘Do you want to go get some coffee nearby? It’s the least I can do. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. I should talk to Colin about this soon. ‘Sure, I’d love some coffee. Be a dear and watch the shop for me, will you, Andrew?’

✦✧✦✧

George leads me into his flat. Our bellies are full from dinner. I love and hate eating with him sometimes. I love his company, obviously; I hate that he can put away so much without any of it showing on him. Earlier, he had pork chops, lamb meatball stew, and a fudge brownie with ice cream. I get that he needs all that protein to maintain his figure, and I’d love and support him all the same if he were, but he’s not an Olympics athlete like Michael Phelps. Nonetheless, all that food’s imbued him with oodles of energy, the kind that’s seen us seek to end the night on a more gratifying note at someone’s place. (Mine’s out of the question tonight because my flatmate’s working toward the same goal with her latest squeeze.)

The farthest we make it before the urge to eat each other’s faces overpowers us is the sofa. I’m on top of him, just showering him with gentle kisses on his lips, and sometimes his cheeks and nose. I’m content with savouring his taste for now. His breathing is heavy. He’s warm to the touch. His kisses are more insistent. I yield to his desperate, almost plaintive moans and allow our tongues the pleasure of getting to know each other better. His hand is feverishly fondling my thigh and hip; the latter has developed a mind of its own, grinding up against him. Deciding our mouths couldn’t have all the fun, I move on to his neck, which he kindly bares for me. His throat is thrumming with — growls?

I look up at him and say, ‘Do you hear that?’

‘Hm?’ His eyelids flutter open. I gasp.

Staring back at me are yellow eyes, brilliant and wild.

Oh, my God.

‘George — your —’

‘Why?’ He puts his hand to his mouth. ‘Shit.’ I get off him. I see the fangs I thought I saw the first time we met. ‘What’s today’s date?’

‘It’s the eighth.’

‘Fuck!’ The force with which he cursed propels him out of his seat. ‘You have to go. I’m sorry,’ he says, taking off his shirt. His chest sheens with sweat. ‘I forgot.’

I don’t need to ask him what it is he forgot: I know the answer on a primeval level. I know I should leave. I stand transfixed by what’s happening before me. His flesh twists and ripples. The growls get louder. The proportions of the hand on his chest — hairier than I’ve ever known it to be — are all wrong. Poking — pushing out from underneath his fingernails are claws. He turns away from me. The sight of protruding knobs of bone under the skin along his spine causes chills to run down mine. My poor George. My poor wolf boy.

‘I’ll go,’ I say, as much as I want to stay with him. ‘Will you be okay?’ I shake my head. Stupid question. He’s in agony.

‘I’ll be fine.’ There is greater conviction in the violent gurgle that follows than his words. ‘Now go. Please.’ His back arches and expands with muscle. He cries out in pain.

I do as he says. I hear the locks rattle and turn behind me. Though his strained growls and yips are horrible to hear, I stick around outside his door. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I don’t quite feel afraid either of what I saw in there or of what I now know. Instead, I feel … I press my legs together and bite my lip. Not the time. After what feels like an eternity of guttural noises that have no right coming from a human throat, a howl, long, almost melodious, pierces the air. It’s almost … reassuring. So much about him makes sense now.

I take my phone from my bag, and I send him the following: ’Text me when you see this. Love you.’

✦✧✦✧

I shift on my feet as I wait for George to answer the door. I’m worried about him. Does he not want to see me anymore after last night? No, it’s an insult to the both of us for me to think that he thinks I’d be narrow-minded enough to stop wanting to be with him because of what he is. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The food I brought for him is getting cold. Can he smell it from inside his flat? I press the doorbell again. I wish he had a neighbour to tell me what I can do in times like this.

The door opens. He looks a mess: he’s in boxers, and his hair is sticking out every which way. His eyes go wide. The memory of his yellow eyes resurfaces. I feel a little weak in my knees.

‘Good morning, love. I came to see if everything is okay,’ I say, ‘and I brought breakfast.’ I show him the paper bag. The food inside still smells good.

‘I thought —’ He doesn’t need to complete his sentence for me to know what he means. It’s written plainly in the furrow of his brow, the sadness in his eyes. Damn it. I didn’t want to be proven right about that.

‘Of course not. You didn’t see my message?’

‘I haven’t checked my messages. Sorry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Please, come in. Are you off work today?’

I nod.

His flat, too, is in disarray. It looks just as if an animal went wild in here. Pillows and books are all over the floor; some of the former have been ripped apart. Sunlight shines through the gaping holes in the curtains. Nothing’s broken, at least. George’s head hangs low. ‘I haven’t had the time to clean up … nor was I expecting visitors. I called in sick to work and went back to sleep. I forget what happens when I don’t take my meds before I transform.’

‘Let me guess — the last time that happened was a year ago?’

‘Yeah, probably. I don’t know. That was — that was different. I guess I was too excited about our date that I forgot what yesterday was.’

I walk him to the sofa, and we sit down. The food is left to sit out on the coffee table. ‘It’s okay,’ I say, stroking his arm lovingly. ‘I wasn’t … I’m not freaked out or anything. I love horror and supernatural shit after all.’ I chuckle nervously, more so because I hate my tendency to resort to awful humour in an attempt to defuse tense situations. ‘So, um … I owe you an apology for laughing at you when you first told me.’

‘Don’t. I could’ve said something else. I didn’t. I wanted the clothes fast, and after the night I’d had, that was the most out-there thing I could think of in a snap.’

‘Yeah, then I made it into a thing between us! I call you “wolf boy”! You never asked me to stop! And I told everyone how we met! Everyone knows you’re a werewolf!’ I gasp. So. Many. Exclamation. Marks.

‘This is our thing. Only you know for certain. I feel like I can breathe now.’

I lay my head on his chest. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide.’

‘That first sentence sounds like something I’m supposed to say.’

‘So, George … about last night … was that because you were about to — or …’

His words come out almost in a snarl: ‘I wanted you. I want you.’ His lips are centimetres away from my neck. His breath is hot on my skin.

‘Are we like … mates now, then?’ I giggle as I draw an indiscriminate shape on his chest with my finger. I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time last night reading up on wolf behaviour. The thought of what lies in store for me is a little exhilarating, an observation I had a mild developmental crisis over when I felt that first pang of passion from applying what I read to our relationship.

‘Yes.’

He licks my neck. My core tingles with excitement at the ramifications of his declaration — for the record, I meant it as a light-hearted question — and at what’s about to come next, based on my research. Then he pushes me down onto my back, and I see his eyes, still blue, flicker with the same intensity as last night. He hikes up my dress and gets straight to nuzzling my mound. He laps his tongue over my underwear and inner thighs, the strokes long, soft. I hum impatiently. My underwear is getting soaked. He slides it off my pelvis, and he promptly buries his face in my folds. Fingers come into the picture soon after. I writhe in his grasp, desiring release.

And Lord, does it come.

I don’t get to wait for my legs to stop quivering, as he rises from between them and says, ‘On all fours, love’, his voice a lusty rasp. I scramble to my hands and knees. He’s never asked for this before. I’m liking this greater sense of freedom he now has around me. How much had he been holding back? I spread myself for him. He pushes his cock up against my slit. I let out a small, startled ‘Oh’ when he enters me. I feel pinpricks where his fingertips are. Each thrust is deep and brutal. It hurts a little, but it hurts so good. I press the side of my face into the couch and close my eyes. Stars crash into each other in the blackness behind my eyelids.

Though he’s the werewolf here, I’m the one whimpering and moaning like an animal, too, while he huffs and growls with each movement. The sounds encourage him. ‘Please, don’t stop, don’t stop …’ I breathe. My walls convulse around his girth and fill up with an unbearable heat and wetness. Come drips out of me and trickles down my thighs. Then his thrusts become shallower and rough, his fingertips threaten to leave bruises on my skin, and he empties himself inside me. He lets out a strangled howl; my lip almost bleeds from how hard I’m biting down.

I feel so empty, almost a little sad, when he pulls out. I settle into a lounging position on the sofa. He wedges himself behind me. I gently fondle his business, still hard. He resumes licking my neck, sometimes rubbing his face on my skin.

‘I’m sorry if that was … weird. It’s the first time I fucked like that — and the first time I fucked after the full moon.’

I turn around and kiss him. ‘You were amazing.’ His ears turn pink. ‘Am I your first girlfriend who knows?’

‘Yes. About being mates …’ He pulls me closer to him. ‘I can do something about that. If you want. No pressure. It’s a huge decision.’

I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider the idea at least once last night. The dream I had about transforming and running alongside him on all fours can attest to that. But I tell him, ‘I need to think about it first.’ I don’t want him to think I’m rushing headlong into something I have little to no knowledge about. (Tabbing back and forth between pages about wolf behaviour for at least two hours doesn’t make me an expert. I’m not even sure if it’s relevant.) I also wasn’t expecting this question to come up so soon, considering he thought I’d leave him. I sweep my thumb across his lips, then his nose. ‘Maybe if I see you in your wolf form first …’

‘Fair enough. Promise me you’ll still love me the same after you’ve seen him. He’s more fun than I am, even when hopped up on industrial-strength bear tranquiliser.’

‘It’s going to take a lot to top what I’ve seen in the last year — and the last hour.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m in trouble.’

I spend the day at his place. (What? I’m taking a mental health day, and being with my boyfriend does wonders for my mood.) We fuck several more times, unable to get enough of each other; we’re like lovesick puppies. He lets shades of his true self slip through on occasion. He assures me it’s not because of the full moon. I assure him I know. Until today, I didn’t think it’d been possible for him to become more alluring. I give him my answer to his offer before sunset, which he happily accepts. At the end of the day, I lie in my wolf boy’s arms, waxing gratitude for the graveyard shift at the corner shop a year ago.

[freddie-weaselbee]

E2: The One in New York City//F.W.

Series Summary: FRIENDS but with Harry Potter characters after Hogwarts graduation, trying to figure out their lives and relationships. Non Voldy AU. Begins around the end of FRIENDS season 4 with The Wedding and semi follows plots in season 5. 

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader, Romione, Ron x Lavender, Hinny, Georgelina

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, planned pregnancy

Summary: Years after Hermione came back into their lives, the gang finds themselves traveling to New York City for the wedding of the one and only Ronald Weasley. As tensions rise and feelings are revealed, the group has to take on New York and hope for the best. 

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: A little taste of the story:  “I’d pee on you any day of the week.” “What the hell did I just walk into?” Message me to join the series or general taglist!

May 2004

“Guys, hurry up! The flight leaves in four hours! It could take time to get a taxi, there could be traffic, the plane could leave early! When you get to New York there could be a line at customs, come on!” Hermoine Granger was racing through the flat of Fred and George Weasley, the one above their infamous joke shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. She grabbed clothing from their drawers and tossed it haphazardly into suitcases, while the twins in question were lounged out on their sofa observing the scene. 

You sat wedged between the two boys, leaning your head against Fred’s shoulder with your legs draped across George’s lap. You laughed as Hermione was practically hysterical about getting everything ready, even though she wouldn’t even be going to America. 

“Good thing she’s not gonna be on the flight,” Fred whispered into your ear. “A six hour trip to New York? That’s a lot of Hermione.”

Smiling you turned to look at Fred who was holding something in his hand. “What’ve you got there?”

He grinned cheekily and gave you a better look. “Condoms, Y/N! You never know what American hotties I might meet overseas.”

Rolling your eyes you turned to George, who was giving you the same grin. “And I suppose you’re just as prepared as your brother?”

“Of course! Y’know, I feel bad for poor Ronniekins, getting himself all tied down to one woman. Me and Fred, we know how to live, isn’t that right mate?”

“You said it.” You sighed and settled into Fred even more, relaxing for a few minutes before Hermione would drag you all to the airport and you and Harry would be stuck trying to teach the Weasleys how Muggle planes worked. 

There was an audible pop as Ron apparated into the room, standing off by the kitchen. 

“Hey!” he greeted, causing you to sit up from your comfortable position wrapped in Fred’s arm and go meet your friend with a hug. 

“Hey.” You squeezed him tight, noticing how his nerves had overtaken him. 

“Are you ready yet?” he asked, fidgeting with his wand. 

Before you could respond Hermione came barging out of George’s bedroom and threw two suitcases onto the twins’ laps with what could only be described as superhuman strength. “She’s ready. You have the tickets?”

“Harry and Gin do, they’ll be here any second.” The only current couple of the group, and an engaged one at that, suddenly arrived with another loud pop, startling Fred who had begun to count his condoms to make sure he had enough. 

“Hey big brother!” Ginny hugged Ron with enthusiasm, but not as much as Harry showed as he threw himself onto his best friend. 

“You’re getting married Ron!”

“I know!”

They stayed wrapped in their hug as they jumped around and around, George clapping along and laughing at the duo. 

“Don’t know why Lavender would want to marry a specky git like you,” said the younger twin, “but at least we get to travel to the states for it.”

“And have wedding food,” said Fred. 

“Oh and you can’t forget the hot bridesmaids, right boys?” you questioned jokingly. 

They shared a mischievous look. “Never.”

A loud bell sounded through the loft, signaling that someone had come in. 

“That must be Luna!” Ginny exclaimed. She sprinted down the stairs and wrapped the blonde girl in a hug, being gentle as to not crush her or her pregnant belly. 

“Hello Ginny, how are you?”

“Never better! Thanks again for offering to help Hermione watch the apartments and oversee the shop and employees. Ron really wishes you could make it to the wedding, but seeing as you’re about to burst--”

Luna interrupted her old friend with a soft laugh. She was 8 months pregnant with twin boys, and was left home alone for a few weeks while her husband dealt with a work issue in Eastern Asia. Which meant she had plenty of free time to make sure things were running smoothly in London while her friends were overseas. 

The two girls were joined by the rest of the gang who had been pushed down the stairs by a frantic Hermione. “Get going, all of you! You’re going to miss your flight.”

“New York baby!” The twins had jumped down from one of the landings, somehow managing not to injure themselves. Although they were now 26 they were never without their childlike energy. 

“I’m walking here!” cried Fred in a horrid New York accent. 

“Yee haw, cowboy!” said George, doing a little cowboy dance.

You sighed and slapped your head with your hand. “Okay, cause that’s not gonna get annoying.”

They ignored you and continued with their yelling and dancing, dragging as much luggage as they could out the front door of the shop. 

“Well,” said Ron, “we’re all here and ready. I guess we should get going!” Harry and Ginny gave Luna one last goodbye as they followed you out to the alley, leaving only Ron, Hermione, and Luna left in the shop. 

“So, we’re off,” said Ron, a little awkwardly. He and Hermione had a bit of a rough past, having dated on and off for the past few years. But that was all behind them now, and she was happy that he had reconnected with their friend Lavender from Hogwarts and had fallen in love. 

“Have fun, Ron,” replied the bushy-haired girl. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving his friend a tight hug. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re not gonna be there!”

Hermione sighed and pulled back. “Oh I know, I’m sorry.”

“So-so come! Why don’t you come?”

“What?”

“To New York!” Ron was holding Hermione’s hands and jumping up and down. “Come to New York, please? It’ll mean so much to me.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment. She wanted to go, to have a great trip with her friends and visit the historical places she’d read so much about. But she didn’t have it in her to watch her ex-boyfriend get married to someone else. 

“Yeah, well, I gotta work, I’m sorry. The Ministry is really up my arse these days, pardon my language.”

“Mione, this is my wedding,” he said, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. 

You stuck your head back through the door and called out to them. “Alright, y’know what? Now we really are late, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Ron sighed and let go of his friend, grabbing his suitcase before heading out the door. “I’ll see you when I get back, Mione. Bye Luna!”

Luna and Hermione both gave small waves as Ron pulled the door shut. A resounding “New York, baby” could be heard even from deep inside the shop, and Hermione giggled as her friends made their way to the London airport. 

----------------------------------------

“Alright,” said Ginny as you all stepped out into the streets of New York City. “Harry and I will help the groom and bride-to-be get everything set up for their big day. Which means you, Y/N, get the honor of babysitting my older brothers.”

“Ginny I can’t handle them all by myself! We’ve been here for less than 5 minutes and look at what they’re doing already.” You all turned to look at the ginger twins, who were standing on top of a map of the city and staring down at it. 

“What is going on with you two?” you asked, but you were quickly silenced as Fred placed his finger on your lips. 

“We’re concentrating. We went in the map so we can figure out where we are.” He kept his finger there until you finally removed it and looked at the map they had made, complete with little pop ups of all the important places they wanted to see. 

“If you see a little version of me in there, kill it.” Harry laughed at your quip and grabbed Ginny’s hand, waving goodbye as the couple and Ron made their way to meet Lavender and her family. 

“We got it!” screamed the twins. They stepped out of the map and started walking right, on to their first tourist destination. “Here we go.”

“Okay, listen,” you said catching up to them, “we’re not gonna have to walk this way the entire time are we?”

Fred shushed you and George groaned. “Y/N, you made me lose it!”

George put the map down and stood back on it. “A lot harder when the map doesn’t change specifically for you and show you exactly where you are, huh?” you asked, referencing the parchment the twins used for years back in Hogwarts. 

They ignored you and took off down the street again, their long legs moving so fast you had to almost sprint in order to keep up the pace. This was going to be a long day. 

------------------------------

Meanwhile Harry, Ron, and Ginny had made it to the Brown’s apartment in New York. Although Lavender was raised in England and attended Hogwarts, her extended family lived in the States and her parents moved there after she graduated. The apartment was rather large, but that was no surprise as the Browns were a wealthy family. 

“Oh Won Won!” Ron was greeted at the door with a vibrant Lavender throwing herself into his arms. Ron laughed and spun her around, giving her a quick kiss before finally setting her down. 

“Hey Lavender, I missed you.” He smiled warmly at his fiancee, soon to be his wife. After Padma left him right before he was going to propose years ago, Ron decided not to waste any time in popping the question once he and Lavender started dating. They’d only been going out for a few months before he asked, but despite the worried opinions of their friends they were convinced that this was the right thing to do. 

Lavender pulled Ron down for another kiss, this one much more passionate than the last. “I missed you too.”

They were pulled apart by an awkward cough from Harry, an arm around Ginny who was covering her eyes to avoid watching her brother make out with someone in front of her. 

“Sorry Harry, Ginny,” said Lavender. “It’s great to see you both. Come on in, will you, we have a few last minute preparations to attend to.”

They followed the brunette into her family’s apartment, which was decked out in reception decorations that still needed to be set up. “Where’s the rest of your group? They are coming, aren’t they?”

“Y/N and the twins are out exploring the city,” said Ginny. “I figured you probably didn’t want Fred and George to be around anything important, especially with their history of pyrotechnics. And I don’t trust them alone in the city, so Y/N’s making sure they don’t burn down half of New York.”

Lavender laughed and poured some tea for her friends. “And what about Hermione, is she at the hotel?”

The room suddenly got very tense and Harry quietly sipped his tea, trying to disappear from the awkward scene. 

“Umm,” Ron began, “Hermione’s not coming. She can’t get time off at the Ministry and she’s helping watch over our apartments and take care of Luna.”

Lavender nodded sadly, sighing deeply at the news. “I guess it’s all for the best then. She never did like me, did she?”

“No, that’s not true at all,” Ron argued, taking his fiancee's hands. “She’s just...she takes a while to warm up to people. She really wishes she could be here, but you know how work is.”

The girl smiled slightly at Ron’s comforting words. “Yeah, thanks Won Won.”

He squeezed her hands gently. 

“Alright then,” said Ginny, “what needs to be done? Even though Parvati is your maid of honor and I swear I’m not upset about it--” Harry elbowed Ginny hard, “--I’m still one of your bridesmaids, and I want my big brother’s wedding to be as amazing as possible. So, what should we do?”

“Well,” Lavender said, clapping her hands, “I need a new venue. The one I had was going to be absolutely gorgeous, but they tore it down early, which means we need a new spot.”

Although Lavender said these words calmly, it was obvious that she was on the verge of tears and the stress was getting to her. 

“Got it,” said Ginny. “Let’s go check out the old venue and see if there’s anything we can do. I promise you Lav, this day is going to be amazing, for everyone.”

------------------------------

“This is going to be horrible!”

Hermione was pacing around her apartment, the one she shared with you and Ginny. She was packing up Ginny’s belongings for when everyone returned from the wedding. Once Ron moved out of his and Harry’s shared apartment across the hall, Ginny would move in with her fiance, leaving only you and Hermione to share the space. Hermione decided that packing for Ginny would help take her mind off of the wedding, but unfortunately her assumptions were incorrect. 

“What���s the matter?” Luna asked from the sofa, leaning comfortably against a pillow with the Quibbler in her hands. 

Hermione sighed as she continued to pack. “I’m just bummed about the way I left things with Ron. I shouldn’t have lied to him about having to go to work. He seemed so mad at me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” the blonde said, not looking up from her reading. “If someone I was still in love with was getting married…”

Luna jumped as a vase hit the floor and shattered. She looked up to see a wide-eyed Hermione staring at her. “Still in love with?!”

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. 

“I’m not in love with Ron!” Hermione screamed. 

Realization flooded Luna’s face. “Oh, no, good! Yeah, me neither.”

Hermione sat down across from her friend, ripping the Quibbler from her hands and attention. 

“Luna,” she said, “I’m not going to Ron’s wedding because he is my ex-boyfriend and that would be really uncomfortable. Not because I’m still in love with him! I mean, I like Ron as much as the next girl. Clearly I still have feelings for him, but feelings don’t mean love! I mean, I still have loving feelings for Ron. But, but that doesn’t mean that-that I’m still in love with him! I-I have sexual feelings for him, but I do love him--oh!” she gasped at her own words. “Luna why didn’t you tell me?”

“We thought you knew!” she said, surprised that Hermione was for once in her life so oblivious. “We talk about it all the time!”

“You all know?” Hermione asked. “Does, does Ron know?”

“Oh no,” Luna answered calmly. “Ron doesn’t know anything.”

Hermione started pacing once again, this time much more frantically. “Oh, I can not believe you didn’t tell me!”

“We thought you knew!” Luna replied. “It’s so obvious. That would be like telling Ginny ‘hey, you like to play Quidditch,’ or you know, ‘George, you’re gay.’”

The pacing girl stopped dead in her tracks. “What?”

“Oh please,” replied the younger blonde, “she’s always got a broom in her hand!”

------------------------------

“Alright! The Empire State Building. Hands down, best State building I’ve ever seen.” George pulled out his Muggle camera, still trying to figure out which buttons did what. They were a lot smaller than the one Colin Creevey used to carry around at Hogwarts and George still hadn’t gotten the hang of using Muggle items. 

“What do you think of the Empire, Y/N?” Fred turned his head to you as he asked his question. Your legs had gotten tired from jogging to keep up with the ginormous twins so Fred had offered to let you ride on his back the rest of the way, an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

You hopped down and quickly covered your eyes to hide from the bright flash of George’s camera. “I don’t know, I can’t see it with that thing blinding me, George.”

He quickly apologized, but not before snapping a picture of Fred wrapping his arms around you and smiling while you glared at the camera. 

“Someone’s grouchy today,” Fred said, swaying you back and forth a few times before releasing his grip. 

“I’m just tired, jet lag y’know?” He nodded and pointed to his back, letting you know it was alright to get back on. You didn’t hesitate to jump onto the redhead as he followed his brother into the massive building in front of you. 

After waiting in line for what seemed like hours you finally made it onto the elevator to take you to the top of the building. George continued to take pictures of anything and everything, including you flipping him off from on Fred’s back. As the doors opened and you stepped out onto the observation deck, you were amazed by the incredible view before you. 

Thousands of tiny buildings filled with thousands of tiny people stood before you, or rather below you. It was like you were on your broom and flying high in the sky, except this time time you didn’t have to focus on keeping your broom in check. You could just stand and stare. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Fred came up next to you, leaning on a railing in front of him. He hunched down enough that his face was right next to yours as the two of you stared at The Big Apple. 

“It really is.” You looked around for George, but he was off pestering other tourists to take pictures of him and the city behind him. “Remember when we were playing Quidditch at the burrow, and I flew up this high and stayed there for hours?”

“How could I forget,” Fred laughed. “We had to send search parties for you, thought you had been snatched up by dementors or something.”

“Nope, just got a little distracted by the view.” You continued to watch the amazing landscape and incredible sky, not missing the looks Fred was giving you. “What’re you looking at, Weasley? Don’t tell me that I’m more enchanting than the city. I mean, we all know it’s true but try not to make it so obvious.”

You pinched his cheek and he swatted your hand away playfully. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “I was just remembering the time I peed on you to combat the jellyfish sting.”

“Fred!” you whisper yelled, laughing as he put his hands up. “We said we would never talk about that again. I don’t need that reminder!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just too good of a story! Really shows the strength of our friendship.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. Technically you would’ve considered Ron to be your best friend, as you’d known him the longest and had been the closest with him for so many years. But the past few years, living close to Fred and hanging out with him almost every day, he had become the most important person in your life. He was always there to make you smile or laugh when you had a rough day, or wrap you up in a blanket and watch a movie after a horrid date with some arsehole. He was one of a kind, and you were so glad he was in your life. 

“Y’know what Fred?” you asked, scooting closer to him. “If you ever got stung by a jellyfish, I’d pee on you too.”

Fred wiped away fake tears from his eyes. “I’d pee on you any day of the week, Y/N,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“What the hell did I just walk into?” George was standing behind you and Fred, having only heard Fred’s last sentence. The two of you cackled with laughter, bringing George into the hug with you and just enjoying the moment. 

------------------------------

“Hey Luna?” Hermione called from her bedroom. She and her friend had spent the day discussing her feelings for Ron and trying their best to help her get over him. Apparently recounting the horrors of their relationship was not helping in the slightest. 

“Yeah,” Luna called back from the kitchen. 

“Do you remember where the pygmy puff food is?” Her muffled voice sounded rushed and anxious, even more so than Hermione usually was. 

“Yeah, it’s under the front counter of Fred and George’s shop. Why?”

Luna turned her head to see Hermione come flying into the room dragging a packed suitcase behind her. “Because I’m going to New York.”

The pregnant girl nearly had a heart attack at Hermione’s declaration. “What? What do you mean you’re going to New York?”

Hermione grabbed a few more essentials from around the apartment, rushing in order to catch the next flight. “Yeah, I have to tell Ronald that I love him. Now Luna, you take care, you don’t have those babies until I get back.”

“I--but what about all of the finding his flaws and burning his picture rituals we’ve been doing?” Luna asked, straining to stand up and chase after her friend. 

Hermione easily moved past the slow-moving girl, zipping up her bag and heading to the door. “Yeah, that didn’t work. I know he loves Lavender but I have to tell him how I feel! He deserves to have all of the information and then he can make an informed decision.”

Phoebe shook her head and continued to hobble around the room. “No, Hermione, it’s too late, you missed your chance! I’m sorry, I know this must be really hard, it’s over.”

The other girl paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Y’know what? No. It’s not over until someone says ‘I do.’” And with that she took off out of the apartment and to the streets of Diagon Alley, on her way to another country to declare her love for Ron Weasley. 

[all-things-fic]

Mistletoe Jam

A/N: Merry Christmas from me to you. I don’t where this came from, all I know is I lost a lot of sleep trying to get this finished last night. Hope you all enjoy and thanks to anyone who has ever read anything I’ve posted on here.

Title comes from a Luther Vandross song purely because I like these lyrics in particular - ‘Glad I got big feet cause they're so good for dancin'. Glad you got big legs cause they're so good when we're romancin'

Shoutout to @waitingfortwilight, @harryfeatgaga and @haute-romance-quotidienne for reading this here and there.

~*~

You closed your eyes and let the back of your head hit the headrest behind you in the passenger seat.

“Swear I’m going to change my name,” you muttered under your breath as you heard your son whine Mum for the fifth time in a row.

Harry chuckled in the driver's seat next to you, fore and middle finger resting against his lips as he leaned his elbow on the drivers side door. You were sat in standstill traffic, looking to exit the car park of Cheshire Oaks.

You had a death wish coming here on Christmas Eve but unfortunately in your mad dash attempt to get out of London, you’d left an entire sack of presents behind that were sat next to your tree that had been up for all of a week.

To say you weren’t looking forward to hoovering up after it when you returned to the big smoke in the new year would be an understatement.

However, the actual shopping itself hadn’t been too bad. You’d tag teamed. Harry took your eldest boy with him, leaving you to take your daughter into the one place you knew would keep her occupied: Pets at Home. You’d deal with the constant requests of getting a rabbit over the next 48 hours, if it meant she was quiet enough to allow Harry to grab whatever toy she had suddenly requested from Father Christmas since you’d arrived back up North. 

“Mum,” came the whine again, causing you to look around in your chair and see the culprit. Hidden behind a Barbie doll that had been completely stripped naked, baring a pair of cowboy boots, you found the inquisitive blue eyes of your son.

You spoke his name, watching the way he dropped the doll to show you his cheeky smile. “Can we stay up late and look for Santa?,” he asked, his head slightly tilting as he did so. He really was pulling out all the stops today.

Staying silent, you felt Harry’s gaze look at you from the corner of his eye before he looked up at his son through the rear view mirror. “Doesn’t work like that mate,” he started, causing your little boy to turn his gaze away from yours. “Need to go to sleep, or else he doesn’t show up. Good boys and girls sleep in their own beds,” you heard Harry pause to allow the latter part of his sentence to resonate, as much as it could with a toddler, before he continued anymore.

Staying silent you thought Harry was going to continue, however instead when your gaze moved to look at him, you saw the way he appeared to be holding back an expletive at how someone cut him up to get into a parking space that had become available while you sat in idle traffic.

“Dad’s right, baby,” you agreed, watching the way his face fell into a small frown. His mouth fell slightly agape, you cutting in before he could start to whine. “Hey, you know Father Christmas is watching you right now don’t you-“

His mouth shut as his bottom lip started to protrude, his face rolling to look out the window to his right like he was some moody singer filming a pensive part of an emotive music video. 

“He’s sulking now,” you muttered, turning back in your seat.

“Am not,” he shot back, your mutter obviously not low enough to go unnoticed. You knew it was wrong given he was probably far too over stimulated as it was, but you couldn’t quite help it.

From the corner of your vision your saw that he started to go stiff in his seat, stretched out and showcasing his frustration. Still idle in traffic, you watched Harry turn in his seat to turn his gaze on his son.

“Enough,” he spoke assertively, hand pressing against the taut legs of his son. “You’ve been good all morning,” he continued, seeing no change in his son's temper. 

“One,” he started, causing you to shift slightly in your seat. “Two,” you turned to look at him, seeing the way your little boy shifted, body relaxing. “Good boy, sit back nicely for Dad-“ he manoeuvred back in his drivers seats lowering his voice as he continued, “-so he can get off this bloody car park in one piece.”

***

Anne’s house just smelled like Christmas.

Of fresh baking and spiced Christmas candles. It was cosy too. The kind of warmth that enveloped you the minute you stepped foot into the hallway from the porch. 

She smiled a knowing smile when she saw your frazzled hair once you pulled off your winter hat and quickly took your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction that Harry had taken the kids.

“I have mulled wine,” she passed comment, turning to look at your face from over her shoulder. “No? How about a glass of prosecco?” 

“Isn’t it a bit early?” You said, eyes taking in the mountain of washing up in her sink, as you messed with the waistband of your jeans and sorted out your jumper. 

“Never, not when it’s Christmas,” she smiled. “Besides I think we’ll both need to be a little bit pissed to attack the mountain of washing up.”

Regardless of receiving an actual answer, she poured the prosecco for you, glass being handed over smoothly before she took to pouring her own. As her eyes lifted from the job, she noticed Harry in the kitchen doorway, removing his gloves and shoving them into the pocket of his black coat.

“Or we could get my lovely son to do it,” she let her gaze move over your shoulder as she sipped from her own delicate glass. 

“Barely got me coat off and you’re already giving me jobs,” he spoke deeply, leaning against the doorframe. Turning to look at him you noticed the way his eyes lovingly shone over at his mother, before they scanned the kitchen like it was some sort of crime scene.

He groaned as his eyes stilled on the sink, immediately catching on as to what was being asked of him. “I’ll do it under one condition,” his eyes cut to yours before moving back to his Mum’s. “You let me wear the gloves.”

Anne laughed, hand covering her mouth as she tried not to splutter her prosecco everywhere. “I have new ones,” she said, with glittery eyes. Before you could even catch onto the gloves and the meaning behind them, your mother-in-law had hidden herself away in the pantry.

Eyes fell to Harry as he placed himself next to you. He loved the confused but oh so intrigued look that you wore. “Just wait,” he hummed, hands pressing against the kitchen surface and nudging his head back to where his mother stood, wordlessly making you move your eyes towards the same direction.

“Managed to find these in the pound shop when I popped into town with Louise, they had others but you know how I am with my sparkle-“

Harry hummed, with his lips twitching into the boyish smile. “Come on,” he moved his hand in come hither motion. “Let me ‘ave at ‘em.”

Without another word Anne tossed the pair of gloves onto the kitchen work surface. Your eyes dropped to the item that clattered thanks to the gaudy diamond that sat - from what you could tell - super glued onto the middle finger of the latex gloves. 

“Pound shop upping its game with the introduction of an old Swarovski-esc cocktail ring, I see.”

You didn’t quite know what to say, as you watched your husband marvel with humour at the monstrosities that he seemed eager to don. 

“Where’s the washing up liquid then?” Harry said shaking off his coat and quickly taking to unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them up to the crook of his elbow. “Dishes aren’t gonna do themselves.” 

The laughter of sheer delight that left Anne’s chest cause you to cut your eyes over to her. It was nice to see her in such a way, carefree and in awe of her baby over the silliest thing. You often wondered if the face she wore looking at both Gemma and Harry was an expression that flirted across your face over the littlest thing that your own son and daughter did. 

You eyes watched Harry as he snatched at the gloves, pulling the red latex over his hands and making them stretch against his ring-clad fingers.

“Wha’ size did you get these in,” he moaned around a husky laugh, his fingers clenching underneath the latex into a fist before expanding once more.

“Didn’t look, darling,” Anne nonchalantly replied, swiping up her phone and snapping a picture of Harry off-guard. He frowned lightly over at her, only for Anne to softly laugh. “Since I’m no longer needed here,” she continued, picking up the bottle from the middle of the kitchen island. “I have some gran-babies to cuddle and annoy since my children no longer enjoy my offers of affection.”

“No, we just enjoy your successful attempts at free labour more. Clearly,” Harry shook his soapy-sud hands out, flicking dishwater in the process.

“I’m letting you stay for free over the festive period and feeding you, ‘s the least you can do.”

He couldn’t argue with that one, his eyes falling to yours as you sipped your drink wearing a smile that was far more triumphant looking than it should be.

“Don’t know why you’ve got a face on you like tha’,” he started, grabbing at the tea towel next to him. “You’re drying.”

The very same tea towel came flying at you, your hand swiping to move your half filled glass to save a spillage and trying to defend yourself. 

You didn’t make any effort to move as Harry turned off the tap and got to making sure that all the pots, pans and plates were submerged underneath the surface.

The way his back looked underneath his shirt as he moved his hands around the sink was attractive. It sounded daft and if you weren’t coherent enough you’d blame the prosecco, but even the back of him glowed from happiness (and maybe an extra serving of dessert or two). 

Breaking the silence Harry said, “Need to up me ring game.”

You watched the way he shook out his hand, soapy suds once again flicking against the kitchen counter. “Old Mrs Claus, looking to play away.”

“What are you on about?” You said, leaning against the kitchen counter, hand reaching for the packet which had once held the washing up gloves. Eyes took in the label, flicking it over to read the product description to yourself. 

“Wearing her diamond on the incorrect finger, innit.”

“Probably got a thing for one of the elves. Husband’s let himself go a bit-“

“Santa or me?” He chuckled.

You smiled against the lip of your champagne flute, eyes moving upwards to see the profile of your husband’s face as he stopped all washing up to look at you. “All I’m saying is maybe only leave one mince pie out for Santa this year when you’re helping the kids set up the plate.”

“Look, Santa is a strapping lad,” he spoke with conviction. “He can’t help it, if Mrs Claus is a feeder.” 

“I am not a feeder, Harry,” you laughed, throwing the tea towel back at him. 

“Darling, I don’t know what kind of role play you’re into but maybe this is something we should pick up after we’ve put the kids to bed.” 

“Was just about to ask you the same thing,” you bit back, eyes once again dropping down the packaging that encased the gloves. “Glamourous red and pearly washing up gloves,” you cleared your throat, eye flickering up to see the way his face had pulled into a smile, as he added another plate to drying rack. 

“These fun and stylish gloves make even the dirtiest jobs look fabulous!”

“I can concur-“

Smiling, and hearing it lace your voice, you continued, “The pair of gloves are not only practical but they are complete with a fur lining, pearl bracelet-“

“To match my necklace-“

“-and a superbly sized diamond.”

“Superbly sized diamond, only the best for Mrs Claus.” 

“Funny Secret Santa gift for women-“

“And men-,” Harry interjected. 

“Both fun and practical for doing the dishes.”

He stayed silent at that one, you too remaining tight lipped waiting for him to say something. When you eyes slowly pulled away from the packet, you met his from across the kitchen island.

You noticed the way his forehead held a light perspiration and the front of his shirt was slightly wet from where he had been leaning a little too closely over the sink.

His hair fell against his forehead and into his eyes, that held an expression that made it so you felt like you couldn’t break your gaze. 

“You know what else rhymes with dishes? Missus.” 

The way his lips twitched as he spoke, the crinkles next to his eyes deepening. “Both fun and practical for doing the missus.”

“Harry,” you chastised him under your breath.

“Wha’,” he drawled, expression mischievous. “I’m telling Mum we’re keeping these.” 

“You do realise that Santa is watching,” you swiped your glass, downing the remainder of your prosecco.

“How’d you know he’s not into it?”

The competitive person in you wanted to counter his question with a question of your own, but instead you chose to give him something to really think about.

Slipping down from the breakfast bar stool, you turned to leave the room, stilling in the doorway.

“That makes two of us then.”

***

Somehow between 1pm and 8pm Harry had managed to remember he was a father of two rather than rampant teenager bringing his girlfriend home for their first Christmas together. 

He’d been the ever-doting Dad after he had left the kitchen, helping the kids put together and decorate the gingerbread house at Anne’s dining table, taking a danger nap with his little girl during an afternoon showing of Frozen on BBC One and cooking a Christmas Eve feast suitable for the whole family. 

Rather than fight against the family pyjamas, instead he lead the charge, helping to encourage the coercing of your son into his along the way. 

He got excited when you pulled out the hand crafted plate that said “Dear Santa” along the top and then “Love from,” followed by the names of your son and daughter along the bottom. 

There was no doubt about it, Harry was all in. 

With a carrot and mince pie now placed on the fireplace, Harry now sat with a sweaty child pressed into his side on Anne’s sofa, with Love Actually on the television going in one ear and out the other. 

Your son had put up a fight to sleep, like his earlier episode in the car let you know he would do. His little body bouncing around before creeping along the landing, only for Harry to peek up the stairs and tell him to come down.

He was a hard child to stay mad at, more so when he cuddled into your side to begin with until getting cosy next to his Dad. Part of you wondered if he was becoming under the weather, given the way his cheeks were rosy and his skin clammy.

“Probably this cheap polyester you’ve forced us into,” Harry playfully jibed, knowing just how mad you’d been when you read that the pyjamas you had bought off the internet under the illusion of being 100% cotton, were in fact only 80% cotton and 20% polyester. 

Your hand was held against his forehead as Harry stood with his limp and sleepy body in the middle of the living room. “He’s definitely coming down with something,” you worried your bottom lip.

Harry dropped his lips to his son's forehead, keeping his voice in a hushed whisper as he reassured you that he just needed to get some rest. 

Falling back into your space on the couch, you half listened as Harry left the room asking you to pause the film so he didn’t miss anything. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at how he and everyone else could by now recite Love Actually considering how it had become a classic for this time of year. 

“I’m just going to nip out and grab those presents from the boot of the car,” he said poking his head around the living room door upon his return. 

Lifting your head from the Radio Times magazine that you’d managed to swipe from Anne as she retired upstairs earlier for a bath and to get straight into bed, you nodded when you met his eyes.

“Want to crack open tha’ bottle of red when I come back?” He suggested, fiddling with the collar of his coat, car keys jingling in his hand. 

“Can’t get too pissed, still gotta wrap some presents-“

“I didn’t hear that,” he replied, shutting the door behind him before heading out to the drive to retrieve the purchases both he and you had made earlier.

In his absence, you took in the cosy living room that surrounded you and felt your body sink into the sofa as you relaxed. This was the least frantic you’d felt all day, regardless of the mountains of wrapping you still had to do.

Your children had been wiped when they finally fell asleep, which was always a win for any parent. It meant that they would probably give you the chance to sleep in a little later than usual for Christmas Day. There was nothing wrong with being hopeful that your gaze met 7am on the alarm clock rather than the usual 5am.

The presents that already sat underneath the tree, made your heart soar. Material things did not mean much at all, but there was no doubt it that every single person in this family - your family - was loved. 

Standing from your seat, you let your feet lead you along the carpet and out into the dimly lit hallway of Anne’s house. Pictures of Harry and Gemma, as children, littered the walls. Some of the frames and pictures replaced since you had first set foot in the family home, with images of your own children and Gemma’s too.

The strong sense of family always comforted you when you stayed at Anne’s. Took a gentle hold of your body and consumed you in the nicest way.

Both glasses and the bottle retrieved, you quickly shut the door of the living room to make sure that barely any of the heat from the roaring fire left the fairly sized and cosy space. 

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you quickly unscrewed the bottle of red and poured two reasonable sized glasses.

Leaving one atop of the coffee table, you plucked up the stem of your glass and sunk back into the cream couch. You knew you’d have to be extra careful as the night went on and more of the rich and acidic drink was consumed. 

The rustling of bags let you know that Harry had returned into the house from outside, with the door of the front room opening not long after. 

“Can feel the cold coming off you,” you commented as he set down the four bags he had retrieved. 

“Cars icing up,” he commented, tugging off his coat and throwing it into the spare armchair over the other side of the room. As he turned, he wore a warm smile once his eyes saw the way you were offering over a glass of wine.

Now stood from your seat, he padded his socked feet against the carpet over to you and gently peeled the stem from your grasp. Sipping the drink and keeping his eyes locked with yours, he noticed the way you dropped your stare to his lips as he licked away the lingering wine residue. 

His free hand cupped at the back of your forearm, cold fingers easy to feel through your thin pyjamas. He soothed his hand up the back of your arm, scooping you into him.

Looking down at you with his softened jawline, he hummed the first thoughts on his mind. “Not kissed you all day-“

And he hadn’t. Things had been manic and the day has mainly been about your children, and present swapping with friends. Outside of the other activities previously thought back on.

“Or night,” you mused in return.

He tutted, “Night’s’not over yet.”

Humming you tilted your head slightly when you felt his hand hit the back of your neck. You shivered from his cold touch as he mumbled his sorry’s against your lips.

With a soft shake of the head you dismissed him and welcomed his tender and gentle kiss. His lips puckered at yours and softly drew you into his every want and desire.

As he went to pull away you lured him back with a soft pull to his top lip, feeling him smile at how you didn’t want to break away. He happily obliged you, opening his mouth wider to devour you, enticed by your plusher figure against his and the warmth radiating off you.

“‘S all this,” he mumbled against your cheek, as he tried to calm his breathing and remember not to lose grip of his wine. 

“Jus’ showing you how much you mean to us-“

“Shouldn’t that be me to you,” he corrected. “Would be lost without you, Mommy.” 

Pulling back you looked at him, welcoming the soft peck he left on your lips as you stared at each other. A small laugh left him as he pressed a second and third peck to your lips in quick succession, “‘s not getting the wrapping done is it?”

“You started it,” you mumbled into your glass as he turned to stand behind you and grabbed for the bags. 

Before he got to them however he stalled all movement, looking at your profile with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll bloody well finish to an’ all, after we’ve done this wrapping.”

“Nothing sexier than a man who gets a job done and get its done proper.”

He laughed down his nose at that, before he groaned as he managed to get his body down to the floor.

“Don’t do things by halves, love. Should know that by now. Now, who’s present was the Barbie kitchen set?”

***

That’s how you spent the majority of the night, rummaging through the plastic bags and putting together two piles of presents for each of your children. 

Once it had been decided who was having what, you did your equal share of the wrapping. Harry actually better at wrapping than you were always led to believe by the man himself. You knew he often opted for the gift wrapping service at a Selfridges or a Harrod’s, but here he was slumming it like everyone else. 

“How’s it feel being like every other peasant and wrapping your own gifts?”

He chuckled, mouth closed as it held onto a piece of sticky tape that was going to be used after he’d neatened up the edges of the LOL drawing set that you’d bought for your little girl.

“Actually very rewarding,” he deadpanned, “‘s probably the wine tha’s making it less of a chore though. That and my incredibly easy on the eye wife cheering me on.”

He did find himself getting bored when he was three quarters of the way through however, finding ways to entertain himself like sticking one of the bows to his forehead to give himself to you as a present, which had you giggling over at him with bleary, wine eyes.

“You’re a daft sod,” you said pressing your outstretched foot into his thigh and enjoying the way he cupped the top of the same foot, keeping it close to him. 

You could tell he was getting restless when he started talking about all manner of different Christmas facts that he’d heard around the studio, or in meetings to break up long sessions of recording or tour logistics. 

“Did you know?” He started, “Paul McCartney earns £250,000 a year off his Christmas song, which is widely regarded as the worst song he ever recorded.”

“Obviously not by you,” you deadpanned, as you concentrated on trying to find the end of the sticky tape as it had stuck itself back together.

“I’ve probably helped up his royalties actually, d’ya think I could get a cut of that?” You laughed, looking up at him from the final present you were wrapping. “I’m serious, I’ll have a word with Sonny and see if he can mention it to his Uncle Paul.”

Rather than responding, you reached for the last of your wine and swallowed it in one gulp. Empty glass on the table, you looked over at your husband who wore a flushed face, either from the wine or the heat within the room. You did notice he had pushed the sleeves of his pyjamas top up into the crook of his elbow.

“Did you know,” he whimsically asked in a whisper.

“Probably not, Harry, but go on-“

“It’s well known that mistletoe is an aphrodisiac, a symbol of fertility,” Harry spoke with concentration as he looked down at the paper which housed the toys that he had done a mad dash to The Entertainer store for, once you daughter mentioned how she had changed her list to Father Christmas. This was his final gift to wrap. 

“You can forget it, Styles,” you bit back, watching the way he smirked around the cello tape that he was biting into, too lazy to reach across for the scissors at the end of his legs. Forever easily amused. “Already one too many in our house as it is.”

“Maybe I’ve asked Father Christmas for a new ‘un,” he patted at the present, looking up at you from under his brow.

“A new baby-“

“Yeah, that as well,” he rolled his lips into his mouth, clearly meaning a house. He frowned, “And wha’ do ya mean with this ‘one too many’? ‘S only two of them.” 

“Three.”

He shook his head, his face reminiscent of a child confused. Point proven. 

“Our two kids,” you paused, for dramatic effect. “And you. So, one too many.”

He was taken aback by your playful nature, a little bit lost for words at how brazenly you had dissed him. 

“Thought you liked ‘em young,” he retorted, hand curling around your calf and tugging you over to him. From the quickness of his movement, you squealed. The two of you shushing each other around soft laughter as your eyes faintly fell towards the television monitor that showed you your sleeping children from where you sat in his lap. 

“Dead to the world, both of ‘em,” he mumbled, breathing along your cheek as he noted the way your soft gaze lingered on your babies.

“Can’t wait to see their faces tomorrow,” you admitted, as his lips skimmed gently down your neck. 

“Need to finish off the magic,” he hummed. “Pass me the plate.”

Leaning over from in his lap, you gave Harry the ample opportunity to softly tap his hand against your pyjama-clad bottom. The sound your ears and his received was a dull thud that didn’t achieve what it intended.

Turning to look at him, his sheepish gaze made you aware that he too wasn’t satisfied from his actions. His eyes dropped down to the plate that you held tightly in your hands at the goodies he had laid out on the idea a mere four hours prior.

“You take the carrot,” he pushed it towards you, eyes meeting yours as they looked up.

“And here I was thinking you were the health conscious one-“

“I need stodge to soak up this,” he scooped up the pouring of whiskey. “‘M mixing drinks, so I’m gonna be a barrel of laughs when they jump on me at 5am as my wake up call.”

You softly laughed before you took a hefty bite out of the carrot and he out of the mince pie. With a gooey smile, you couldn’t stop your hands moving up to his lips and wiping away the crumbs from the pastry that sat on the corners of his mouth.

“Have the last bit,” he spoke once he has swallowed his food, offering the small amount of whiskey left in the tumbler glass to you. 

You sipped the drink that he gave to you and placed the empty glass down with a soft clunk to the plate. 

“Can make some magic of our own now,” he whispered in a light alcohol induced haze, satisfied. 

And under the soft lighting of the living room, who were you to refuse him.

His chuckle of disbelief at this words hit your lips with a warm breath, causing you to blush along with him. If he wasn’t kissing you in that moment, you knew that he would have said the words, “Can’t believe I’ve just said tha’.”

But you would believe it, because things like that were him to a T. 

He was that kind of person sometimes, hidden underneath the incredibly handsome features and put together looks: a geek. A loveable geek. 

A loveable geek who knew how to work his way around your body; your head falling back with the thought as he sucked at the middle of your neck. 

“No lovebites, baby,” you gasped, fingers woven into the hair at the back of his head. “We’re at your Mum’s,” you reminded him, feeling his tongue lave against the area he’d been particularly rough with. Like a cat licking at his wounds, tucking his tail between his legs at how he’d admitted defeat. 

His hands moved up the back of your shirt, raising the pyjama material as he went. Your arms lifted, helping him remove the item of clothing and enjoying the tickling feeling of your hair falling down the bare skin of your back.

Harry’s face went straight into the center of your boobs without much focus on where he’d thrown your discarded top in the living room. Mouth sucked with power on the inside of your chest, he was determined to leave a mark against your skin one way or another. 

His hands clawed at the elastic of your trousers, palming underneath them to feel your bare bum cheeks against his hands,helping to create a rocking motion of your crotch against his.

You mewled, in a breathy tone, “Take ‘em off.”

“‘S nice like this,” he coaxed, looking at your face with hooded eyes and enjoying your mirrored expression.

And he wasn’t lying. Been a while since you’d sat in his lap and found your release against him with your clothes still on. 

“It’s not enough,” you admitted, feeling your hips become slightly more frantic as you pressed back into his awaiting hands with a soft clap. 

“It’s enough for now,” he urged you to rock. “Relax on me, darling. We’ve got time.”

Languid kisses was nice. The friction of your clothes too, worked you up in a way that was way more than you would ever care to admit. Breathing growing heavier as Harry kept his lips to your chest and you fisted at his hair.

Tingles ran through you as you felt Harry growing harder through his trousers, rubbing against your center over and over. He twitched as his hand pulled you with more force against him, his hand slipping down lower to rest in-between your bum cheeks.

The way his fingers ghosted close to your center was enough to have you reaching around and pushing his hand down further. The suction sound his mouth made as it peeled away from your clammy skin, made you moan with a fallen head tilt. 

“Want my fingers that bad,” he whispered, feeling the pressure of your hand on top of his. “Tell me.”

“Please, put ‘em in,” you breathily asked. Your mouth fell agape as you felt the tips of his fingers rest against your wetness. You knew if you rocked back and he held you steady enough, they’d sink right in without any resistance.

“Gonna rub your clit for me while you take my fingers, eh?”

Your breathing was laboured as his fingers brushed at your aching, wet center. You were desperate from some kind of pressure, your center pulsing each time you felt the tips of his fingers get closer. 

“At this rate your gonna be all down your legs and mine,” he paused, enjoying the choked moan you released when he finally slipped his fingers inside your wet warmth. “Not even got started.” 

You hand was against your front and harshly rubbing at your sopping clit that had you softly swiping up and releasing enticing moans, causing Harry to throb. 

He softly shushed you as he pushed your fallen hair, slightly damp from sweat, out of your eyes. 

“No ones ever made me this wet,” you admitted in a whiny plea to him, scooping your arm around his neck to sit tighter onto his lap. 

His eyes dropped down to the way your hand moved over your center underneath your pyjamas trousers. “Hiding from me, darling,” he was obvious.

“I said take them off,” you hummed. “Thought you were a man, my man.”

Harry growled at your goad, fingers slipping without much care and wiping into the waistband of your trousers. He roughly pulled at your bottoms, his limbs and yours unattractively flaying but achieving the ultimate goal of getting naked. 

Bare bum now open to thick heat of the room, you enjoyed the way he tapped his fingers lightly against your left cheek, close to where your bum and thigh met.

“Harry,” you breathed, hips nudging forwards, enough to get his cock to press between your lips, just right. You rolled your hips over him slowly, your wetness enticing and teasing to his cock. Bliss was written across his face as he enjoyed your attentiveness to foreplay. 

“Gonna let me have you,” he stated, no question within his words. He felt the way you nodded against him, as you pressed your forehead to his. 

You gripped his shoulder as you rolled back again, feeling the way his tip slipped into your without much guidance other than the slight lift to your arse from Harry himself.

As you sank down on him, you felt the way his hand pressed to your lower back. Shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips as you took him in, staying still and relishing in the way his cock felt inside of you.

Throbbing clit flush to his pelvis, you knew even the tiniest of motion would have you losing your mind. 

Wanting to keep him deep, you barely raised your hips more than halfway off him before you were taking him once more. He brushed against the soft spot inside you so wonderfully, that you were admitting your love for him in such a way that had him chuckling. 

“‘S my cock, not me, darling,” he teased. “I know, I know, baby.”

The pace you set was slow, languidly rolling your hips over his. He encouraged you, digging his fingers into your plush hips and throatily moaning as he watched you with lips parted and eyelids hooded. 

The wet kiss you shared with him, had you gripping at his jaw, feeling the way it expanded as he devoured you with his lips and tongue. It was dirty, a quick flick that had your chasing after him, suckling gently and wanting to be just as dirty in return.

You could hear how wet you were, your body wanting the man beneath you to know just much of mess you had made for him. How turned on he had managed to get you. 

He loved it. The sounds. The way he purposefully dragged at your wetness with his fingers over you clit. His roughs pants and throaty moans indicative of just how deeply pleasured he was.

“Hear tha’,” he rhetorically asked. “You’re all over my balls, doll. My thighs are covered.” 

“Oh god,” you gasped as your head fell back and exposed your throat to him, hips rocking and rubbing harshly against his. His hand moved from being cupped underneath your bouncing boobs and took to pressing gently against your throat. 

Somewhere in your mind you thought back to the latex, novelty washing up gloves earlier in the day and how they may feel against your skin, against your throat. It was something you knew you’d have to mention as you hips began to move with more force against him at the idea.

You knew he’d asked, he’d just time the question in the right moment. Probably say your name first to have you looking down at him glassy, fucked our vision.

As he groaned your name, your dropped you head down feeling the way your throat curved against his hand. “Wha’ you thinking ‘bout?”

His face was flushed out, hair sticking to his forehead and you were partly angry at how he’d somehow managed to keep his top on. 

“Need to try the gloves next time,” you confessed. “Want to, want to-“

He watched the way you face crumpled, slightly flushing at how you’d possibly found yourself a kink that was once before totally undiscovered to you. 

He pulled you down to him, “Would try anything wi’you in a heartbeat. So in love wi’you. Love you more when you let me feel you comin’ all over me.”

The two of your were flat against each other as you felt the way he lifted his hips upwards, the angle had him constantly stroking directly on your g spot. Your limbs felt like mush as your body began to shake of its own accord.

“Yea’ darlin’, just like that for me,” he coaxed, “All over me, giving it all to me.”

Your sweaty chest rubbed against the irritating fabric of his top, as you focused on the feel of your clit rolling against him and the feel of his cock tipping you over the edge with a satisfied moan that had you holding him deep inside.  

You fell limp against him, feeling the way his arms wrapped heavy against your clammy back. The only movement came from his hips as they lifted upwards and smacked against you.

His deep groan of your name as his orgasm overtook him, caused you to turn your face into his and leave a wet and heavy kiss to his dropped jaw. His grunts were heavy as they tapered out into soft and wet whimpers. 

Your skin was scorching against his, as you’d came down together next to the roaring fire beside you. The two of you basking the blissful aftermath. 

As you collapsed against him, Harry’s eyes looked up at the tree that he was now somehow partly under. Heaving chest and bleary eyes, he focused on the decorations above his head, as his hand ran soothingly down your clammy back.

With a scoffed chuckle, he caught your attention, enjoying the way you nosed along his neck, to being your lips up to the corner of his.

“What is it?” You asked gently against his lips. His smiled deepened. “What’s tickled you so much?”

Still wearing a blissful expression, he said deeply, “We’re under mistletoe.”

Frowning, you knocked you eyes upwards, spotting the mistletoe that sat tied to two or three baubles on the Christmas tree. 

“Gotta lay on one me, doll,” he cheekily caught your attention. “‘S the rules.”

And if it were the rules, who were you to break them.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hello Tumblr

The subreddit has directed me here to promote my realfic(s) about actor Richard Armitage on Ao3.

I do not know the etiquette of doing this, but here I am...

Here’s the first chapter of the ludicrous romcom I’m writing right now...

°1° ­~Victoria~

Victoria, Vic to her friends and Vicky to her father and Tory to her ex-husband, walked briskly towards the little café at the end of her street, lifting her shoulders to her ears to shield herself as much as possible from the wind that cut into her skin and made her face flush an unflattering shade of windburned red.

She had no idea what Angie and Liza were up to, but apparently, she was to have high tea today, which in itself was not a reason to distrust her friends, but a little voice at the back of her head told her quite clearly that this was not going to end the way she had anticipated, and she was already annoyed before even knowing what they would spring on her.

As her heels clacked on the pavement in an impatient staccato, she yanked her handbag that kept sliding off her shoulder a little harder to wrestle it back in place and slammed it into her face with full force.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She cried out in the middle of the street, rolling her eyes at her own incompetence.

When she pushed open the door though, the warm smell of cinnamon and coffee wafted into her cold, numb face and she relaxed a little, especially as the young girl behind the counter gave her big, beaming smile and took the dark grey coat from her with perfect understated courtesy.

Victoria loved this place, she had loved it from the very first time her former husband had taken her here to introduce her to the owner of the little shop for whom he had a strange fascination (which turned out to be run-of-the-mill horniness, as Angie was a lesbian).

Once, this had been a townhouse much like the one Victoria lived in now, and the old doors were still clearly visible in the bright, open room where polished white tables and dainty chairs with faded blue upholstery invited for a quiet sit-down with a good book and a steaming cup of coffee or tea.

On the old mantlepiece over a disused fireplace, daisies and peonies smiled at her from a slightly kitschy, ornate vase and her favourite spot, right next to the huge windowfront looking out on a neat little courtyard with wrought-iron tables and chairs in impeccable white, was waiting for her.

Angie had worked wonders with the small, crowded rooms, making them appear more spacious without losing the cosy feeling they had once held, and every artfully decorated plate hung on the wall had a special meaning to the dreamy, romantic woman who was the owner and boss of the establishment.

As far as middle-aged women went, Victoria was a good enough catch with her reasonably attractive physique and her actually very pretty face, not to mention her considerable smarts and her undeniable wealth, BUT Victoria was also notoriously stubborn and easily angered.

Most importantly though, at least that was what Angie and her beloved Liza thought, Victoria had taken the ludicrous and completely insane decision never to date another man again after her divorce and they were having none of that nonsense.

Hence why they were about to have high tea with her to gauge how hot her distemper was still burning after months where she had shut herself away in that little house she had taken to spite her family and avoid her ex-husband, refusing to take most calls and only ever coming to the tearoom to read a script.

As a member of a highly successful production-team, Liza had decided to offer Vic a spot as proof-reader of scripts, as her friend seemed particularly good at finding mistakes or inconsistencies. Also, Liza was convinced that Vic needed a few stories in her rather dull life after the childhood and youth she had had.

Vic took her new job as seriously as she did everything else in her life, her existence as a hermit included, and this made Angie’s plan to find her nice man to at least bed increasingly hard.

“She doesn’t want a man.” Liza had rolled her eyes at her, but Angie was convinced that it was not good for a woman to leave home and hide somewhere in London in a tiny townhouse and refuse to meet any kind of new person. It made people bitter, and she definitely didn’t want Vic to become bitter.

“Jesus, Angie, listen, I see bitter old men every day at work.” Liza had laughed, but when her girlfriend’s eyes flashed a feline green, the idea had taken hold in her own head to convince Vic to change her mind after all.

Only, not only did Vic not want to meet any men, no, she had made it very clear that there was a certain type of man that she would never ever exchange a single word with again: wealthy, suave, and handsome men, which was exactly the kind of men Liza had to sell a dime a dozen.

In this very second, she watched Vic settle down in her usual spot, waiting for her friends to arrive, her eyes narrow, suspicious slits as she surveyed her surroundings with hawk-eyed distrust.

~Richard~

He was surprised to see his phone light up and when he saw the name on the screen, his amazement only grew. There was no good reason why Martin would call him up just now as they’d meet a few days hence for one of those terrible meetings where all the rich and beautiful would stand around, bored to tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He picked up his phone, nonetheless, curious what his friend could want from him.

Martin droned on about all kinds of things before making sure that Richard would indeed show up on that fateful evening, he had just been musing about a few minutes earlier.

It was vital that the man would be there for the success of the plan that he had hatched out with a dear friend of his, which consisted of getting two boorish, middle-aged twats to have a roll in the hay.

Maybe that hay would be pure spun gold, but the roll would be the same as it was everywhere else on this planet for all kinds of people. As far as he knew, the woman Liza had pitched had been made a millionaire by her divorce…and an emotional cripple.

After having married her high-school sweetheart, she had been replaced by a woman 10 years her junior as soon as the money and the fame started rolling in. If Liza was to be believed, she had put her heart and soul into that marriage and into the platform she now owned 50% of, which made of this banker’s daughter a good catch…Only, she apparently hated all men with a burning passion now.

Enter stage left, a rather underwhelming specimen of said population: inveterate bachelor, notoriously shy and often awkward and still stunningly handsome artiste extraordinaire Richard Armitage.

Martin had no idea how much he and Liza had drunk that evening to really believe, even for a single moment, that it would be a good idea to pair a hissing, angry, and disillusioned divorcee with a man who had not even been able to convince wide-eyed ingénues of his merit, but for some reason, they had shaken hands on their game plan and he would be damned if he was the one to drop the ball on this one.

“Yes, I will come. Why?”

That makes two of them being suspicious from the get-go, Martin thought, feeling the challenge raise his hackles and light a fire within his chest. This could be great fun if they managed to pull it off.

“Just checking in on you, old horse, don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.” Martin chirped cheerily, rubbing his hands noiselessly as he popped the earbuds in to move around the house while being on the phone like the puttering busybody he was.

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation, he worked too much and socialised too little, he was well aware of that, but God, what did people expect of him? Secretly, he HAD thought about ducking out of this function on the down low, but now, that was virtually impossible as at least one person would indeed be looking out for him to show up.

There was an edge to Martin’s voice that he didn’t like all too much either as it announced some mischief he could not yet fathom, but already, he could feel the shadow of those dark rainclouds falling on him and it made him frown impatiently.

He had no time to be the butt of a joke or the unsuspecting victim of some cruel prank that had been hatched in good faith, he had no doubt whatsoever about that, but he was too old to be made a fool of in public and he hoped that his friend would know that, and respect his boundaries.

Poppycock, the hell he would, Richard thought with a sigh, rubbing his forehead to dispel the headache that was building constantly behind his eyes. He really should be wearing those glasses more consistently, but he tended to forget when he was sitting around at home, lounging comfortably around with a good book and planning a productive, prolific future that would keep him from thinking too much about the things he had missed out on.

“I’ll be there, don’t you worry.” He grumbled, hoping that there would be enough mainstream artists so he could blend into the background and slip out of the crosshairs of those who were after some funny business.

“Then I’ll see you there. I’m sure you’ll look ravishing.” Martin chuckled and earned a disgruntled growl from his friend and colleague which made him laugh silently. Oh, he was smelling that something was up, Richard was too smart to be taken unawares, but he was also adorably easily to get flustered sometimes, and, if he was honest, Martin enjoyed that a great deal.

For a second, he pondered if it would be cheating to pull Ben into the fray, but he knew that he’d need help to steer poor, old Richard into the right direction and there was only so much a single man could do.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No. 1

No.1 Let’s hang out sometime

Prompts: #1 hanging #21 hypothermia

 Stop staring at me.

 Strike gave the carcass hanging next to him a hateful look. Dangling from a chain on a meat hook, just like the detective, the dead pig’s empty eye sockets were on one level with Strike’s eyes, and he gave an involuntary shudder. Kicking his legs, he rotated away from the grim sight - only to be met by a likewise eviscerated gaze on the other side. This pig, its slashed throat gaping, seemed to be grinning at him.

 I’m starting to hallucinate, Strike called himself to order. The fucking cold.

At least the sub-zero temperatures in the butcher’s shop had eventually numbed the pain in his wrists. In fact, he could no longer feel his hands or the blood trickling down his forearms into the sleeves of his coat. The chain had bitten into his skin, and his efforts at freeing himself had only made things worse. When he looked up, his hands were two puffy and bluish appendages that seemed to have nothing to do with him anymore.

 He could still feel his shoulders, though. Both joints felt as if they were about to pop, muscles and tendons screaming, and a burning sensation was fanning across his ribcage. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, as the relentless pull on his chest muscles widened his ribcage, rendering each inhalation more shallow than the former. Dazedly, Strike wondered what would happen first: dislocation or suffocation. At least the latter would be painless.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he swore feebly.

 Below him, on the tiled floor, the cracked screen of his mobile phone lit up as it vibrated with an incoming call. Chin on his chest, he could make out the caller ID.

 Robin.

 He’d lost count how many times she’d already tried to reach him, and he’d run out of ideas of how to try and get down from this bloody meat hook and answer her call. Straddling the carcass closest to him to hoist himself up and off the hook hadn’t worked due to his false right foot. Without the benefit of a full calf muscle, he just couldn’t dig the artificial heel into the meat deep enough to create leverage. And although his disability had resulted in solid upper body strength, he was too heavy to swing himself up and slip the chain off the hook. 

 Shouting for help would have been useless. The butcher’s shop had been closed for the night, pitted into darkness safe for a few security lights when they’d strung him up and left him to die. Bitterly, Strike’s gaze slid to the industrial grinder on the other side of the room. Disposing of his corpse would not be a problem once he’d frozen into a six-foot-four popsicle. 

Below him, the phone was buzzing again, and, once more, Robin’s call went to voicemail after thirty seconds of ringing. His partner knew something was wrong. Otherwise, she wouldn’t keep ringing him.

 Call Wardle, he sent her a telepathic message across London. Get him to locate my phone by GPS.

 Once again, he cursed himself for turning off the search function for his mobile in the settings. He kept it deactivated for security reasons, of course, not wanting to risk getting followed or giving his position away to anyone who had an interest in him. Robin would’ve been smart enough to log into his account and ping his GPS. But he’d cut that safety rope.

 Stupid.

 Groaning, he pulled himself upward a little to draw a deeper breath. His arms shook with the effort, and when he dropped down again, unable to hold himself up for longer than a few seconds, something in his shoulder gave with a sharp snap. He yowled, eyes watering from the pain.

 “Ahh, shit, Christ!” He cursed, his breath billowing in a white cloud. The pain was bad, zinging through his arm and upper back, somehow even more pronounced by the cold. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe through it, to let his good arm take more of his weight, but he’d run out of strength, and he couldn’t draw enough of the icy air into his lungs to fuel his stiff muscles. In spite of himself, he felt a few tears spill down his cheeks, hot on his cold skin. 

 Come on, Robin, he pleaded. Come on!

 He could imagine her in a patrol car with Wardle, shouting at the policeman to drive faster, her Yorkshire accent thick with urgency, her face pink and bright eyes flashing as she kept dialing his number. She would still be wearing the workout clothes she’d had on this morning to follow Fitbit, as she’d dubbed the mark of their current case: skin-tight black leggings and a matching top that hugged her curves in just the right places, and a baseball hat to cover her memorable hair, tied back in a ponytail. The smell of her hair - he remembered it, would never forget after he’d buried his nose in it at her wedding. 

 Roses. 

 As the pain seemed to settle at a level he could manage - if he stayed still, hanging limply from his hook - he noticed that his fear was lessening. It wasn’t a good sign. Exhaustion was turning into sleepiness, and he had stopped shivering at some point. The grey shapes of the machinery and the cutting tables around him seemed to blur further in the darkness. 

 Oxygen deprivation? Hypothermia? Probably both.

 Strike blinked and forced himself to stay awake. He wasn’t ready to give in yet. Not while there was still a chance that he could hug her again. Inhale that scent. And, this time, not let her go. 

 Silver spots were beginning to flicker in the dusk. Pixels, dancing in the cold like fireflies. Strike’s head swam as he sucked in another breath. His shoulder answered with a stab that traveled all the way to his sternum. His heart gave a sudden jolt before returning to its slowing throb. The room began to slowly spin around him. Strike felt his eyelids grow heavy and the cold air crystallize in his nostrils. 

 Breathe. Stay… awake…

 He did. For another few minutes, another hour - who knew? But the pain eventually gave way to unexpected warmth. A comfortable coziness lured him in and embraced him, and all of a sudden he thought that this was easy… letting go… and his eyes slid closed… 

 Roses.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

 Disinfectant. 

 The smell was almost overpowering when he woke, and flashbacks cascaded through his mind as he blinked his eyes open, heart racing.

 Afghanistan. Helmand. The Viking.

 Roses.

 “Hey.”

 Robin sat by his bed, hair glinting red-gold in the neon lights of what had to be a hospital room. The sight anchored him immediately.

 “Hey,” he croaked back, gathering his bearings while bloody memories faded back into the desert they had sprung from. 

 “How are you feeling?” Robin gave him a soft smile.

 “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely, looking down at himself and shifting to gauge the condition he was in. “Have I lost any more parts?”

 “Fortunately, you haven’t.” Robin’s smile was a bit shaky. “But it was a close call.”

 She pointed at his hands. Both wrists were bandaged, and his fingers were swollen and had a bluish tint. When he tried to curl them into fists, they felt stiff, and pain flared up in his right shoulder.

 “Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Robin said apologetically as Strike, hissing, clutched his right arm and the sling it was settled in. “You tore a few things in your shoulder, and they couldn’t do the surgery yet. They wanted to wait until your body temperature had returned to normal.”

 Strike gritted his teeth. “Fantastic.” 

 Now that Robin mentioned it, he noticed the steady warmth emanating from a heating blanket they’d stuck underneath him and some sort of probe taped to his chest, apparently relaying his thawing status to a monitor next to the bed. From the number he could make out, he was still a little below par. Which might explain the chill he felt crawling through his limbs.

 “Who… who got me out of there?” Strike asked. He didn’t have any memory of a rescue.

 Robin’s eyes turned serious. “Wardle and I did. Traced your phone and got there just in time. You… you were barely breathing when we found you. And you were so cold, I thought…” She trailed off, shuddering at the memory, and Cormoran felt his heart clench.

 “Cormoran,” she said quietly, “would you do me a favour?”

 Of course he would. Anything.

 “What?”

 “Would you turn your bloody phone search app on?!” 

 Strike blinked, swimming in sudden warmth and a bit of pain and feeling grateful and like a guilty bastard at the same time.

 “Yeah,” he replied softly and held Robin’s furious, watery gaze. “Yeah. I will.”

__________________________________________

(This story is also posted on AO3, here.)

[lauras-collection]

More Than I Know [Part 9]

Tom Holland x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: You discover that millions of people witnessed you being sick, Tom has to leave for a press tour, you meet up with a friend and things take an unexpected turn. (I suck at summaries i’m sorry) 

Words: 3.8k (oops)

Warnings:  fluff, swearing, mentions of throwing up, angst, drinking +  intoxicated reader, making out, a shirtless Tom, angst (sorry) nothing else I think (let me know if there is anything in there that I should add)

A/N: How is this already part 9? anyway. This is a long one. I got a little carried away 😅 I’d love to hear your feedback

I hope you enjoy!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

The drive back to London was...weird. It’s not like it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t. You and Tom talked about all kinds of stuff. But the fact that this weekend - and your fake relationship - was coming to an end was looming over your head. Tom was leaving on a press tour tonight. That inevitably meant that he didn’t need you to go on fake dates with him anymore. You tried to find the perfect moment to mention it to Tom, to ask him what was going to happen now. But you couldn’t. You were too scared of the answer. 

***

When you arrived in London, Tom drove to his place first. Tessa came rushing towards the door as soon as Tom opened it. Tom put his suitcase down and greeted her, taking her head in both his hands. 

“Hi, Tessa. Did you miss me?” Tessa yipped before wriggling out of his grip, jogging over to you. “I guess that’s a no.” Tom laughed while you knelt down and started petting the excited staffy.

“Hey, pretty girl. You should be nicer to your owner, you know.” You smiled as she attempted to lick your face. 

“Tessa, get back here. Y/N has already washed her face today.” Tom lightly pulled her by the collar and you got up from your knees. You heard footsteps and Harrison appeared in the doorway to the living room. 

“Hey, Y/N.You feeling better?” He asked and you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. How did he know? Did Tom tell him you threw up all night? 

“Yeah, a little, thanks...how do you know?” your eyes flickered between the two boys and you saw Tom’s face turn red.

“Uh, yeah...about that.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “Remember that live stream I did?” He looked at you and you nodded. “I uh, I kinda forgot to turn it off.” He what?

“What does that mean?” You asked even though you had a pretty good idea of what it meant. 

“That means, Tommy boy here live streamed you throwing up and him taking care of you. Granted it’s only the sounds but...” Harrison shrugged his shoulders and looked at you sympathetically. You felt your heart sink into your stomach.

“Millions of people saw that.” You muttered, your gaze fixed on the floor. While your mind was already coming up with possible tabloid articles and comments from fans. “Please tell me you can’t actually hear me throw up.” You looked pleadingly at Harrison who shrugged again. That was enough of an answer. “Oh no.” You covered your face with your hands. When you thought to throw up in front of Tom was bad, millions of people witnessing it was even worse. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Tom expressed compunctiously as he walked over to you.

“But it’s gone now, right?” You removed your hands to look between Tom and Harrison again. Harrison took his phone out of his pocket and typed something.

“Well, if the video title ‘Tom Holland taking care of his girlfriend for 12 minutes straight’ is any indicator I would say it isn’t completely gone.” Harrison said after a moment making you groan. 

I guess it’s true what they say: the internet never forgets. 

“I’m sorry.” Tom said again, his hands now on your shoulders.

“For what it’s worth, the comments are mostly positive.” Harrison shrugged his shoulders. You ignored the fact that he said mostly but you had gotten so much hate already, you weren’t even bothered anymore. 

“Really? Let me see.” You moved away from Tom and towards Harrison, but Harrison took a step back, holding his phone towards his chest. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“You can’t tell me the comments are positive and then refuse to show me.” You crossed your arms looking at Harrison accusingly. “You know what? I’m just gonna look at it myself.” You reached into the back pocket of your jeans, retrieving your phone. You typed the video title that Harrison had mentioned earlier into the search bar and moments later a few videos popped up. You clicked on the first one. It started with Tom talking to his fans on the live stream, a row of names moving from the bottom of the screen upwards. He was talking about how excited he was for his next project when his eyes suddenly lifted from his phone to look at something behind it. Most likely you on your way to the bathroom. You saw his eyes widen before he jumped out of bed and with a loud bang the phone was thrown onto the desk. All that was visible now was the ceiling of the hotel room and the comments that kept scrolling across the screen at a rapid speed.

-What happened?

-Who’s he with?

-What?

-Where did he go?

-Hellooo?

-Did he accidentally start a live stream? What’s happening?

-Is he throwing up or is that someone else?

Since there wasn’t anything to see you scrolled towards the comment section. You turned the sound down, not wanting to hear yourself heaving. Most of the comments were gushing about how Tom was taking care of you. And you were a hundred per cent agreeing with those people. A few comments, in particular, caught your attention.

-Well at least the girlfriend’s confirmed now lol

-You better treat him the way he deserves Y/N if you hurt him I’m coming for ya 

-Welp, that means he’s officially off the market I guess

-For anyone who can’t get enough of tom saying ‘my girlfriend’ you’re welcome 10:37

You turned the sound back on and clicked on the timestamp

“-but my girlfriend isn’t feeling well and I was wondering-” you turned the sound back down in shock. You hadn’t really realised that he’d called you his girlfriend on the phone. Hearing it now made your heart flutter. But that was part of the deal, right? Make everyone believe you’re a couple, that includes the hotel staff. While Tom and Harrison kept looking at you, sharing worried glances every once in a while you continued scrolling through the comments. There hadn’t really been anything too bad in the comments. You were wondering what Harrison didn’t want you to see. Was it the girlfriend stuff? You had no idea why he would have to hide that from you. 

But then you saw the comments that you’ve been dreading. 

-Oh fuck, what if she’s pregnant? 

-I mean Tom would be a great dad but he’s at the prime of his career now, a bit stupid to get a chick pregnant if you ask me.

-But y’all have to admit that baby would be super cute

Why did everyone’s mind immediately connect throwing up with pregnancy? You groaned and locked your phone again letting your hands fall to your sides. You looked at Tom who was eyeing you with an uncertain expression.

“I’m sorry everyone thinks you got me pregnant. Not only my aunt but your fans now, too.” you felt tears brim your eyes and you realised that even though you had rested a couple of hours today and didn’t have to throw up since last night, you still weren’t back at a hundred per cent.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’ll blow over.” He came over and wrapped his arms around you. “We’ll just ignore it for now and if the comments don’t stop I’ll say something, okay?” He rubbed your back soothingly, just the way he had done it about a million times during the past 36 hours.

You spent the next couple hours with Tom and Harrison, Tessa curled up on the sofa next to you. The two boys tried their best to distract you from thinking about the live stream and the fans reactions. 

Around six in the afternoon, Tom excused himself to take a shower and pack his stuff for the upcoming press tour. Harrison was going to take him to the airport after taking you home. You were a little sad that you wouldn’t get alone time with Tom one last time but it was probably for the best. 

When Harrison pulled up in front of your building you thanked him for taking you while Tom got out of the car to get your suitcase.

“Thanks, Harrison. It was great meeting you.” You smiled at him through the rearview mirror.

“You, too, Y/N.” He returned the smile and you got out of the car. Tom was already waiting for you at the front door. You fumbled your keys out of your coat pocket and opened the door. You were about to say that Tom didn’t need to carry your stuff upstairs, but he had already ascended the staircase halfway. You followed him as quickly as you could opening the door for him. Once inside, Tom carried your suitcase into your bedroom. You stood by the door not sure what to say as he returned. 

“Thanks, Tom. For everything.” You couldn’t help the finality in your voice. Tom didn’t seem to notice though.

“You’re very welcome. It was a lot of fun.” He smiled and you tried to imprint the way his eyes crinkled into your memory. Where you ever going to see that smile in person again? "Well, except for last night. That wasn't so much fun." He chuckled and wrapped you in a hug “I’ll text you when I land, yeah?” His voice was right by your ear and shivers ran down your spine. You only managed to nod before Tom pulled away “See you soon.” and with that, he placed a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You were too perplexed to say anything and by the time you found your voice he was already gone.

***

A couple days later you met your friend Marissa for coffee. You hadn't seen her in such a long time and you needed to get out of the house for something fun for a change.

“Hey. I missed you.” You exclaimed as you walked up to her in front of your favourite coffee shop. The coffee shop where you met Tom. You wrapped your arms around the petite girl and hugged her tightly.

“Missed you, too.” She hugged you back and squeezed you a little bit. “Thought you forgot about me ‘cause you were preoccupied with that boyfriend of yours.” She nudged your shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“No, of course not. He’s on press tour right now and I wanted to see you.” You cringed because it sounded like you were only seeing her because Tom wasn’t around. “I’m sorry that sounded… I wasn’t-“ you started to ramble but Marissa interrupted you.

“I get it, Y/N. You want to spend as much time with him as possible. He’s not around much is he?” She squeezed your hand, letting you know that she understands. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’ll be gone for weeks at a time, either filming or doing press.” You shrugged your shoulders. This was the first time Tom was gone for such a long time since you met him. And since you realised that you’re in love with him. 

“That sucks.” She pauses for a moment. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you. I know that the others have been assholes about it but to be honest I think they’re just jealous.” She nudged your arm again. “C’mon let’s go inside. You need to tell me all about Kate’s wedding.”

***

You had a great time catching up with Marissa. It was nice to have some girl time again. You had both decided that a night out together was long overdue and planned to go to a club soon.

So a few weeks later, you found yourself standing at the bar of a club, Marissa next to you. You had already had a few drinks but the night was still young and you wanted to let loose for a while. After the bartender slid the two shots you had ordered across the counter, you and Marissa downed them quickly and moved back onto the dance floor. The music that was being played was surprisingly good and you had so much fun you didn’t even realise that it was past 2am already. 

You felt Marissa nudge you. “I need to go to the loo!” She exclaimed over the loud music and you nodded, following her out of the crowd of dancing people to get to the toilets. The room was busy when you entered and Marissa immediately queued up. You did as well thinking that it would be better if you took the opportunity to relieve yourself as well.

You were lightly swaying from side to side, a little too drunk to stand straight. But not too drunk to get your phone out of your bag and check instagram. You had unintentionally made it a habit to check Tom’s instagram story a couple of times a day. You told yourself it was because you were curious to see what he was up to. But in reality, it was more because you wanted to hear his voice. Even though you wouldn’t be able to hear anything among the chatter of the girls in the bathroom, you clicked on the little circle with Tom’s icon which was the first one that appeared at the top of your instagram feed. You were immediately greeted with Tom’s face as he said something that you couldn’t hear, a few seconds later Harrison appeared behind him doing a little wave. The next story started and showed Tessa curled up on the sofa in Tom and Harrisons living room and you felt your heart flutter. He was home. You checked the timestamp of the story.

19min ago 

You felt yourself getting antsy. Even though you had been texting with Tom a lot over the past few weeks you were wondering if he wanted to see you now that he was back in London. However, you were a little intoxicated and that made you think that it might be a good idea to just go and see him. Now.

Marissa noticed that you were somewhere else with your thoughts and poked you with a smirk.

“What’re you thinking about.” 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Tom’s home...” You trailed off, not sure if you should voice your idea. Marissa just raised her eyebrows knowingly. “I was wondering if I should go and see if he’s still up?” It sounded more like a question. “His place is nearby and he posted an instagram story about twenty minutes ago...” At this point, you didn’t know if you were trying to convince yourself or Marissa. She just laughed at you.

“Gosh, you’re so in love with him. It’s so cute.” You could only giggle at her words, temporarily forgetting about the whole fake dating debacle you had gotten yourself into. “Let’s get outta here.” She pulled you by the hand and manoeuvred both of you towards the exit. 

Not long after you were standing in front of Tom’s door. You weren’t so sure of your plan now. You decided to send Tom a text to check if he was awake. Your chances were good, he was probably used to a different time zone after such a long time in the states.

you up?

You cringed at your wording but couldn’t bring yourself to rephrase it so you hit send. A few moments later the message was marked as read and a new text bubble appeared. 

yeah, why?  

You locked your phone and knocked on Tom’s front door, not wanting to ring the doorbell in case you’d wake Harrison up. You heard Tom’s footsteps on the other side of the door before it opened. You were greeted with a surprised-looking Tom clad in grey sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. How did he manage to look so soft all the time?

“Hi.” he breathed out, his brown eyes moving over your frame.

“Hey... I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d stop by... check if you’re home. Haven’t seen you in a while.” You purposefully let the fact slide that you had checked his instagram story. Tom eyed you with a look before opening the door wider so you could enter.

“Of course! Yeah, come in.” Tom smiled widely. “D’ you want something to drink?” He asked looking over his shoulder while you followed him into the kitchen. He looked so good.

“Yeah, do you have tequila?” You giggled giggled! and Tom raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Maybe you should stick with water.” He laughed a bit and walked over to one of the cabinets opening it to retrieve two glasses. You leaned back against the counter and looked around the room while Tom poured water into the glasses. “Where’s Tessa?”

“Asleep in the living room.” He handed you one glasses and you took a sip. “What’ve you been up to tonight?” He asked eyeing your outfit once more. “Seems like you had fun.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. 

You nodded “Went clubbing with my friend Marissa. It was a lot of fun. More fun than this.” you say and point at the glass of water in your hand, causing Tom to laugh. 

“Sorry, love but I think you’ve had enough for the night.” 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You wonder with a cocked eyebrow. Tom takes a step closer to you, now standing right in front of you. His eyes roamed your face for a moment before he spoke. 

“Well, your eyes are glossy and your balance is a little bit off.”

“But only a little bit.” You protest with a pout and Tom chuckled. 

“Still, that means no more alcohol for you young lady.” There was a playfully scolding look on his face and you could only think how cute he looks. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked a curious expression on his face.

“‘Cuz you’re cute.” 

“You think I’m cute?” He arched his eyebrow and you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, only humming affirmatively. “What else do you think of me?” He took another step closer, you could now feel the heat radiating from his body. You sat the glass down on the counter and shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, you’re ridiculously hot, too. So fucking attractive.” You blurted out before thinking. You blushed immediately when you realised what you’ve said, but there’s no way to take back the words.

“I think you’re really fucking attractive, too.” He placed both his hands beside you on the counter, caging you in.

“You do?” You looked at him with big eyes. He was looking down at you and the expression on his face took your breath away.

 The two of you kept looking at each other for what felt like an eternity until his lips were suddenly on yours. You let out a surprised gasp but your hands immediately went to the back of his neck pulling him closer. Tom’s hands moved from the countertop to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up on the counter effortlessly. You spread your thighs and he stepped in between them while his arms wrapped around your waist. You were consumed by the feeling of his lips and his tongue. You’d been so sure that you’d never get to kiss him again, and now, here you were. All alone with him. There was no one else around. This wasn’t a show.   

You moved your hands from his neck to his hips, slipping them under his shirt, letting out a moan when your fingertips touch the warm skin under the fabric of his shirt. You move your hands upwards to take off his shirt completely, his lips losing contact with yours to get the fabric over his head before he returned, now kissing down your chest. Your hands roamed his body while his grabbed your thighs before they moved to the hem of your shirt, slipping it off and throwing it on the floor where Tom’s was already lying. Tom explored the newly exposed skin with his lips, kissing down the valley of your breasts. Your hands tangle in his curls pulling him closer as you let out a soft moan. Tom moved back up, sucking on the skin of your neck and you slid your hands back down his body slipping your hands under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Tom.” You moaned his name and let out a whimper. 

All of a sudden Tom stopped kissing your neck, grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away from his body.

“What-... What’s wrong?” Your eyes immediately widen in surprise.

“I can’t...” Tom shook his head, not looking into your eyes, your wrists still in his hold.

“You can’t..?”

“I can’t do this.” He took a step away from you, your hands falling to your thighs and it suddenly dawned on you. Tom didn’t want you the way you wanted him. You couldn’t believe this was happening again. You didn’t think that Tom would be the type to give you a little taste of what it could be like just to push you away a moment later. You didn’t think that Tom would be like Joe. 

“I see...” You couldn’t look Tom in the eyes. You hopped down from the counter bending down to pick up your shirt. You gulped and pulled the shirt back over your head with shaking hands.

“I’ll just…” You pointed in the direction of the front door. “I’ll just go.” You felt so… embarrassed? humiliated? There were a lot of feelings swirling around you at that moment but one was prevalent. Rejected. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t make this awkward. Let’s just forget this happened at all.” your voice was shaky as you turned around to Tom who was looking at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows. You couldn’t really read his expression. Tessa came running from the living room, jumping around your legs, yipping excitedly. You couldn’t pay her any attention though.

“Y/N. No, it’s not...” Tom stammered running his hand through his hair.

“Don’t bother.” You interrupted him “I won’t let you do this to me, Tom… Not you, too.“ You opened the front door and turned to look at him one last time. “Coming here was a mistake.” you mumbled to yourself and you were out of the door before Tom could say anything else. The door slammed behind you but you could still hear Tessa barking. You speed walked to the next street corner as fast as you could and then stopped to support yourself on a house wall, the tears finally falling.

How could you be so stupid to think Tom actually wanted to be with you?

And while you were crying on the corner, Tom was sitting at home, his head in his hands.

“Mate, what the fuck happened?” Harrison, who had been woken up by Tessa’s barking, stood in the doorway to the living room, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I think I really fucked things up.”

“What did you do?”

Part 10

Thank you for reading 💕

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[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 3

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus coronavirus.

This is chapter 3 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 3 Prompt: Magic

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1218

Tags: language, pining

Chapter 3

Sirius

The Lovin’ Spoonful, “Do You Believe in Magic”

If you believe in magic, come along with me

We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me

And maybe, if the music is right

I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night

And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see

How the magic's in the music and the music's in me

Fuck, I’m tired. Sirius looked at the clock on the wall. Eleven? Godric, save me from this week. He rubbed his hands over his face.

Silas left hours ago. After they finished eating at the Cafe, he accompanied Sirius back to the Loft. Sirius was so swamped with orders to finish that he didn’t stick around long though. Sirius thought he seemed preoccupied or bothered by something, but didn’t press the issue. It was probably all the hours he was working this week, which they had already discussed at length.

A little magic to speed up this process won’t hurt. He walked to the door and peeked outside. All was quiet and dark as he looked up and down the street.

Sirius walked back to the workstation and withdrew his wand. With a few silent charms, first, the bills magicked themselves into envelopes and added the correct address label. Then he sent the completed orders to the back room, which would be picked up tomorrow. He had just finished casting some simple cleaning and organizing spells when a deafening sound came from behind him.

SLAP! BANG! BANG!

Startled, he turned to the source of the commotion. Shit! Remus had both palms on the window, eyes and mouth in wide circles. Sirius wondered if he remembered how to obliviate someone. He stowed his wand out of sight as Remus flung open the door and entered.

His expression would have been comical if the situation was not grave. Amber eyes bugged out as big as saucers and mouth agape, he walked jerkily toward where Sirius stood.

“Sirius?!” Remus' voice was at least an octave higher in pitch than normal.

“Hey, mate.” Sirius approached his friend the way one would a frightened animal, with one hand outstretched the other concealing his wand behind his back. Ok, just get him to calm down and not leave.

“You’re a WIZARD?!”

Sirius stopped his advance on his friend as Remus withdrew a wand from the inside of his jacket. Now it was his turn to be shocked. Unable to move or comprehend what was actually happening, Sirius tried to form words but none would come out. He felt like a fish out of water.

“Wh- wh-” Finally, “…WHAT?!”

The two wizards stared at each other. Remus was the first to crack. His shoulders relaxed and a grin spread from ear to ear making the corners of his eyes crinkle. He rushed forward and embraced Sirius in a rib-splitting hug. “How the fuck did we not know this?”

Sirius’ brain short circuited. He was too stunned to do anything except pat Remus awkwardly on the back. “Erm…” What the fuck is happening right now?!

Remus released him from the hug and held him at arm’s length. His eyes sparkled. “How is this possible?”

“Wait. Wait…you’re a wizard?” Sirius' brain started to work again. It felt like it was going in fast forward to make up for temporarily stopping the past few seconds. His racing mind made him feel dizzy and his knees buckled under him.

“Whoa, there.” Remus caught him under the arms. Sirius cheek pressed into Remus’ lithe chest. “Breathe, mate.”

He did as instructed. Damn, he smells good. Like old books. The familiar kind you keep rereading even though the spines are cracked and the back cover is half fallen off.

There were no chairs around, so Remus continued to hold Sirius and guided him to the floor. “Still with me?” He patted Sirius cheek.

“Yeah.” Sirius pulled away from Remus' chest, suddenly bereft and yearning for the warmth it had provided. The sudden realization that he was sitting in Remus’ lap, on the floor of his flower shop, flooded through him. He felt his ears burn and tried to stand, only for his head to spin and to fall back down. Remus caught him in his slender arms again.

Damn. He smells really good. Like old books and chocolate. Not fancy chocolate. The kind you nick out of the cupboard when you need to feel comforted.

“Dude. It’s ok. Just breathe.” Remus grinned.

Sirius attempted to ignore how natural he felt wrapped in Remus’ tattooed arms. He disregarded the way his heart raced when he inhaled his musky scent. He overlooked the way his stomach flipped because he was so close he could see the green-hazel flecks and dark copper ring in his eyes. They reminded him of leaves on a still lake in the autumn. In reality, he failed to do any of these things, and he knew it.

“I- I think I’m ok now.” Remus continued to support him as he wobbled to a standing position with his hands on his knees, like an out-of-breath runner. He let out a harsh breath and cocked his head to the side to look up at Remus. “You’re a wizard?”

“Yeah. And so are you it seems.”

“Well, I already knew I was.”

Remus waved his wand and conjured two chairs. “Sirius, please sit down before you fall down again.”

Sirius appreciated the concern Remus showed for him, but he did not appreciate his own body’s apparent inability to stay upright in this moment. This is too much. What the actual fuck? He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I must be dreaming. I fell asleep while I was working late, and I dreamt that Remus saw me doing magic and then barged in and announced that he is also a wizard. Any minute now I’ll wake up.” 

Sirius felt a sharp pinch on his thigh. “Yee-ow! What was that for?” He rubbed the area and cast a stern look at Remus.

“To prove to you that you are in fact not dreaming.” Remus leaned forward and fixed him in with piercing eyes and a bright smile.

Without warning, Sirius began to giggle. Then he snorted. The giggle and snort turned into a snicker and a chuckle. Soon he had thrown his head back, howling with uncontrollable laughter. He held his sides as he shook, and he felt tears squeeze out the corners of his eyes.

Remus leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. Amusement danced on his face watching Sirius’ sudden fit of laughter.

Sirius wiped a tear from his eye. “This is the most absurd night.”

“It certainly is.” Remus let out a small chuckle. 

~~~~~

The pair talked for over an hour. They discussed the ludicrous situation in which two wizards, who did not know the other was a wizard, could be business neighbors in Muggle London. They reminisced about students with whom they had each attended at Hogwarts, Remus having been older, and Sirius having been younger. Around midnight they conjured some food and drink to enjoy with each other. It was in the wee hours of the morning when Sirius announced he had to go home and get a few hours sleep before coming back. They walked out of the flower shop together.

“By the way,” Sirius said. This is going to blow his mind. “James and Lily are magical, too.” He barked out a laugh as he turned on the spot and disappeared with a pop, leaving Remus on the sidewalk looking like someone whose world had been turned upside down.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part Ten

So this is the last part! Thanks to everyone who has read, liked and reblogged this. I appreciate it!

2460 words

But thanks to @beardedniall​​ for helping me.

Catch up below

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186235732118/lost-without-you-masterlist

6 weeks later

Walking into your flat a week before Christmas felt strange. You dragged your two suitcases one by one up the stairs, and dumped them in the hallway. Removing your coat you realised how warm the flat felt, making your way to the kitchen you saw a note above the thermostat.

 "Put the heat and the hot water on for you, hope it was ok that I used the spare key. Put some bits in the fridge and cupboards for you too. Pop in for a coffee and a catch up when you're free. Audrey. X"

Oh love her. Audrey was too good to you. You felt an overwhelming urge to see Audrey and embrace her and her familiar smell. Remembering how it gave you a feeling of home. 

You weren't going back to your parents for another week so you had planned on last minute Christmas shopping and spending some time with Audrey, Jess and Hannah. There would be plenty of time to see your parents, your brother his wife and your nieces. Niall wouldn't be back until the 23rd which was still five days away.

When you opened the fridge you found butter, cheese, milk and some ready meals. The cupboard had bread, crumpets, some crisps and some snacks. You also found your fruit bowl full. You couldn't believe the trouble she had gone through for you. It also meant you could have a shower straight away rather than waiting for the water to heat up. Which is exactly what you needed.

Opening one of your suitcases you found some pjs and your toiletries. Stripping off your clothes you stepped in the hot shower washing away your day of packing and travelling. You dressed in your pjs and one of Niall's hoodies before heading to the kitchen and popping a meal in the microwave. 

With the meal on your lap and the tv talking to no one, you browsed through your social media whilst you ate. A FaceTime call from Niall interrupted your meal, and you smiled. Swiping to answer it, you saw his face come onto the screen.

"Hey beautiful." He said smiling. He was sitting on a navy blue sofa with a plain white wall behind him. You knew he was in Chicago for one of the Jingle Ball shows, so you assumed he was in a hotel room or dressing room.

 "Hey yourself." You replied, smiling at his cute christmassy jumper.

 "How was your trip back?" He asked.

 "It was ok, quick and easy flight. Not long been home, I've just showered and got ready for bed."

 "Glad to be home love?"

 "Yeah I am, feels weird actually!"

 "Nice hoodie by the way. Been looking for that for weeks!" He replied with a smirk.

 "I may have nicked it from you when you visited me." You grinned back. "It still smells like you a bit."

 "Won't be long now petal, five more days. I'll do the last show in Miami and then I'll fly home straight away after. So I'll see you on Monday 23rd sometime. Not sure what time my flight lands yet."

 "Ok the plan is still for me to go to my parents on Christmas Eve sometime, I can pick my hire car up anytime from 12. Is your flight to Ireland still around that time?"

 "Yeah, 1:40 something I think. I don't know I'm rubbish."

 "It's why you have Tara!"

 "True." He laughed in reply. 

 You heard a knock and a click of a door and saw Niall look up and across the room. The room he was in suddenly became noisy and a familiar voice could be heard amongst the crowd.

"You still talking to your lovely wee lass?!" You heard Lewis ask.

"I am." Niall replied with a smirk.

Lewis popped himself down on the sofa and his face crept into view. You felt yourself blush and prayed you wouldn't fan girl over him again. It had been bad enough when you'd done it six months ago on your first date with Niall.

"There she is!" Lewis said. "This Irish heartthrob has been talking about you all day, said he needed to come talk to you make sure you got home ok."

 "Did he now?!" You laughed.

 "Yep! Been going on and on about you!"

 "Hey give it a rest!" Niall said and you could see him blushing.

 "Oh look, he's blushing now. Been saying how much he loves you and how he can't wait to come home to you so he can make sweet love to you all Christmas!"

"Mate! What the fuck?!" Niall shaking his head. "He's drunk. Just ignore him!"

"Don't deny it now Niall, no need to get embarrassed! And I'm not drunk!" Lewis grinned.

"Fuck off!" Niall smiled back.

"How was your trip back anyway Emma?" Lewis asked.

"It was ok thankyou."

"Good, alright I'll let you love birds have your phone sex and I'll catch you in what three minutes?! You won't last longer than that!"

You giggled as you saw Niall's face turn red.

"Right you, out now!" Niall replied and you saw him point towards what you presumed to be the door.

 "Bye Emma!"

 "Bye Lewis!" You replied still giggling.

You heard the door close and Niall resume his original position in front of you.

 "Sorry about him." He said, his face still red.

"Have you got time for phone sex?" You asked him.

His eyes widened in shock and you could see him trying to decide how to answer the question. It was something that you had explored a few times whilst you had been apart. But it has always been when you were just going to sleep and Niall was in a hotel room. He was in a dressing room waiting to perform that evening, anyone could walk in.

"I have to go for sound check in like ten minutes. But fuck I would if I could." He managed to mumble out.

"Ah that's a shame." You smirked. "Could still show you the good stuff if you like?"

"Yeah?" He stuttered.

"Mmmm." You replied as you pulled his hoodie over your head, revealing just a plain light pink vest top underneath. 

You heard him breath out a huge sigh at the sight of your breasts, just visible beneath your thin top.

"More?" You asked him, as you saw him reach down and adjust himself beneath his jeans.

"Yes." He croaked out before clearing his throat and repeating himself.

Pulling the top over your head you heard him moan out and mumble something about how you were driving him crazy. When you reached across and tweaked your nipple, he moaned again and rubbed his free hand across his face, down his chest and to his jeans. His hand palmed himself over his bulge and he blew out a sigh of relief.

A knock on the door on his end brought him back to reality and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees to try and disguise his erection. No one entered the room however but someone did call out a ten minute call for his sound check.

"Yeah be there in five." He called out.  

You saw him shake his head.

"I have to go." He sighed. "But I need to go and sort out this first."

And he turned the camera down to show you his big problem.

"Go to the bathroom and let me watch." You asked him.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He replied, his eyebrows raised.

"Mmmmm." You simply answered with as you stroked your nipples again. He groaned, but quickly stood up and made his way to the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

With his phone propped up by the sink, he quickly opened his button and unzipped his jeans. The sight of his thick cock as he pulled himself from his jeans made your core throb.

"Oh baby look how worked up you are." You whispered as you slipped your hand beneath your shorts.

"All for you, see what you do to me?" He replied panting, as he ran his thumb over his bright red tip moving the precum down his length.

"I barely did anything."

"I've not made love to you in six weeks babe, I'm going to cum in like two minutes I'm so worked up by the sight of your tits."

 "Yeah, two minutes? Is that a challenge?"

"Definitely, and you better be touching yourself to." He whispered back.

"I am." You replied and you saw him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

Neither of you spoke again in case someone happened to enter Nialls dressing room. There were low breaths and pants from you both as you desperately seeked your release. Your fingers were running over your clit, while you teased your nipples with the other hand. Keeping eye contact with Niall was hard, your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as you got closer. The tightness in your stomach built more and more as you watched him stroke his hard cock with his left hand and tug on his balls with his right.

His movements became sloppy and you knew he was close, the thought of it pushed you to your orgasm and you mewled as you came, your body almost convulsing at the strength of your release.

Low pants of your name from Niall's lips told you he was coming to, and you saw him release his grip on his balls to try and catch the heavy stream of his orgasm.

"Jesus christ." He mumbled as he surveyed the mess in his hands.

"That was about two minutes. Challenge won." You said with a smirk.

********

The Cosy Coffee Corner was quiet today, the early Monday morning rush of commuters and dog walkers had been and gone. Mr and Mrs Davidson had sat at their usual spot by the window reading the newspaper like they always did at least 3 or 4 mornings a week. You'd come down early to offer help to Audrey with the customers, having been awake since dawn. You hadn't been able to get back to sleep after waking up at 5am, your mind filled with thoughts of Niall and his arrival back from Miami today.

You weren't sure how long the flight was or what time you would see him today. It all depended on how he slept on the flight and if he was jetlagged. The sheer desperation to see him was ridiculous.

Your internship at the London office of Foundation Interior Designs didn't start until the new year, and you weren't due to go to your parents until tomorrow. Feeling at a bit of a loss you'd served the familiar customers alongside Audrey and sipped your morning coffee. No one made coffee like Audrey.

It felt great to be back in the safety and comfort of The Cosy Coffee Corner though and Audrey had been excited to see you. When you'd left, it had been the end of the summer, but now the cafe was covered in Christmas decorations. The handmade garland was hanging across the counter by the till. A large Christmas tree took over the corner by the window. The whole place smelled of the usual freshly made pastries and coffee but now with a hint of Winter smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and gingerbread.

 "What time is he due back?" Audrey asked you as she cleared the table next to the counter.

"Not sure. Do you mind if I hang around here for a bit longer?"

 "Of course not love."

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up to see a woman carrying a familiar looking bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, I have a delivery for Emma Pearce." She said.

"That's me, thanks." You replied taking the bouquet. Right on time you thought. Niall had never missed your weekly delivery of flowers since you'd been apart.

Taking the small card in your hand, your saw a printed message.

"To my beautiful girl, can't wait to see you today. Love you. N xxx"

"Wish I could find someone to send me flowers ever week." Audrey said as she came to stand beside you. "These are beautiful."

"I can set you up on one of those dating sites if you like?!"

"Oh god no child, can you imagine the weirdos I'd meet?!"

"Not everyone on them is a weirdo!" You replied sniggering.

"Of course not, but I'm bound to be matched with one. Would be just my luck." She said.

"Didn't know you were looking at dating again Audrey?"

It had been quite a few years since Audrey had lost her husband and you hadn't realised she was thinking about meeting new people.

"Well I'm not really, but it would be nice to go out for dinner and have some male company sometimes. And not like that before you raise your eyebrows at me girl!" She laughed.

"I never said anything!"

 "Go grab a book and take a seat, I'll bring you over some lunch." She said, slowly shifting you out from behind the counter.

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes I do, I haven't been able to mother you for months!" She replied smiling. 

"I've missed that actually." You replIed smiling back.

Placing your flowers on one of the tables by the Christmas tree in the window, you browsed the books selecting one that's cover looked intriguing. Sitting down you started to read, Audrey soon brought you over a sandwich, a gingerbread man and another coffee.

You soon got lost in the book, you'd been reading quite a bit while you'd been away in Paris. It had helped the evenings go quickly when you were on your own. The cafe started to pick up with the lunch time rush, people popping in for sandwiches and coffees from local businesses near by, the bell above the door jingling every so often.

You didn't notice when someone stood in front of you but your head soon looked up when that someone cleared their throat.

Your mouth opened in shock at the sight of Niall standing in front of you. He had on a thick black coat and a grey paddy cap, all wrapped up and cosy from the December weather.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked gesturing towards the seat opposite you.

"Definitely not." You managed to reply, still shocked at seeing him front of you.

You hadn't expected to see him in here, thinking he would probably text you and say he was coming over to your flat or something. He moved closer to you, leaning down so you were face to face, just inches from each other.

"Good." He said as he leaned in and kissed you.

Tag list

@awomanindeniall​

@horanscran​

@flnialler​

@winchesterwife27​

@ihearthemcallingforyou​

@niallismymuse​

@someoneunimportantxx​​

[adrenaline-roulette]

Is this just fantasy? Chapter 1

Pairing: Brian May x Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Summary: Time travel reader fic (I know it’s been done before!)

"Want me to bring back some ice-cream, and you can bitch about how horrible you day was?”

The idea of ice-cream had never been more appealing. “I believe Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at the moment, I could really go from some chunky monkey.”

“I never understood why you like that one so much!”

“I try to convince myself that because it’s banana flavoured then it must be healthy.”

“As a dietitian in training, it is my duty to tell you, that that is not by any means true.”

“For a dietitian in training, you eat an awful lot of instant mac & cheese.”

“Whoa now, there is no such thing as too much mac & cheese!”

Chapter one: Wake up in the morning, see your sunrise loves to go down

Collapsing on your bed, you let out a deep sigh, feeling your muscles slowly relax against the soft mattress. It had been a long and draining week at work, not only had you been training up a new staff member, but you had had three staff quit unexpectedly leaving you and a few others to pick up the slack! You reach over to the nightstand, blindly searching for the remote for your stereo, smiling triumphantly as your fingers wrap around the thin black controller. After a few missed button mashing, you finally manage to turn on the stereo, your favourite station tuning in automatically, your housemate had never quite understood your obsession with the station, but you loved the fact that it played nothing but rock classics. You allowed yourself to fall into a peaceful state of mind, as the music washed over you, the hypnotic voice of Stevie Nicks singing Gold Dust woman beginning to lull you to sleep.

Just as you feel yourself nearing the brink of sleep, a sharp knock on your bedroom door throws you back into the present, and you blink your eyes open groggily. “Hey Y/N, sorry to wake you!” Your housemate calls from the other side of the door. “Mm, no that’s okay Sara. Come in.” The door handle twists before Sara enters your room, she smiles softly, and you can see how sorry she is for bothering you. “I’m just on my way to the shops quickly, want me to bring back some ice-cream, and you can bitch about how horrible you day was?” She grins, and honestly, the idea of ice-cream had never been more appealing. “I believe Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at the moment, I could really go from some chunky monkey.” There’s a brief look of disgust on her face, before her smile returns. “I never understood why you like that one so much!” You pause briefly before shrugging. “I try to convince myself that because it’s banana flavoured then it must be healthy.” You watch as Sara tries to conceal her laughter, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “As a dietician in training, it is my duty to tell you, that that is not by any means true.” A pout forms on your face as you look across at her, before grinning. “For a dietician in training, you eat an awful lot of instant mac & cheese.” “Whoa now, there is no such thing as too much mac & cheese!” She shakes her head, then turns on her heel to leave your room. “I’ll be back soon!” “See you in a little while.” You smile back, before flopping back into a more comfortable position, this time with your face pressed into your pile of pillows, and one-foot dangling off the side of the bed.

The last few beats of Rebel Rebel play through the speakers, before the radio announcer introduces the next song. “And now for 1970, we saw the Beatles disband, Simon & Garfunkel released their fifth and final album, Black Sabbath released their debut album, and of course Creedence Clearwater Revival released Pendulum. So, to celebrate this amazing year of music, here is Creedence Clearwater Revival, with Have you ever seen the rain. An amazing song released forty-nine years ago. The announcer slowly fades out, before the new song kicks in just as you begin to fall asleep.

Within minutes you’re dreaming, a dream you had experienced only a handful of times before. You were falling, forever falling down a narrow multicoloured tunnel which seemed to have no end in sight. Subconsciously you knew what it meant if you hit the ground, or at least what supposedly happened, but somehow this felt different. It almost seemed as if you could feel the harsh rush of wind against your skin as you fell, the warmth you had felt as you lay in your bedroom being replaced by a sharp cold, similar to pinpricks. After what felt like hours of falling, the ground suddenly comes rushing up out of nowhere, and you crash into solid earth, knocking the wind out of you. Before you have the opportunity to open your eyes, to assess what had just occurred, your vision goes black, and the world around you fades away.

                                             ************************

Sara had arrived at the grocery store with only a short list of necessary items, including a few household essentials, some bread for lunch, and two pints of Ben and Jerry’s.  As she browsed through the aisles, she picked up a few snack items to bring back home for you, in an effort to cheer you up. Sara had no intention of being out for too long, and quickly gathered the remaining items on her list, before stopping in front of the freezer section, gazing at the wide selection of ice-cream. She took out a pint of chunky monkey, and half baked, placing them her shopping cart, then making her way to the self-serve check out. As if by a stroke of fate, the moment you hit the ground after your dream, Sara picked up the pint of chunky monkey, and scowled at it. “Why on Earth did I get this? I hate chunky monkey.” She mumbled, before turning to find the sales assistant. “Excuse me, sorry I didn’t mean to pick this one up.” “Oh, that’s ok, it happens all the time. I’ll take it back for you.” Sara smiled at the young assistant, as he took the ice-cream from her. “Thank you so much.”

As she left the store with two bags, she couldn’t shake the odd sensation that she was forgetting something, and how odd it had been for her to pick up a flavour of ice-cream she hated. Popping the boot to her car, she placed the bags inside, before heading for her apartment. Sara parked her car in the single sided garage, retrieved her bags and made her way up to her apartment. After placing the fridge and freezer items away in the kitchen, she took the remaining items into her room, passing by the spare bedroom on her way. “I really must get around to painting these walls. No one will want to rent with me if I keep them this colour.” She mused aloud, before heading into her room.

                                              ************************

You have no idea how long you slept, and no way of telling, because the moment you open your eyes, you find yourself most certainly not in your bedroom, or any room for that matter. You sit bolt upright in a matter of seconds, your head just visible over the long grass you were surrounded by. “What the fuck?” You breathe out, looking around the vast expanse of nothing but grass around you. You’re in a field, one that you don’t recognise at all, not that you had a whole lot of experience with fields to start with. With a great deal of care, you push yourself up onto your feet, feeling you back crack slightly as you stand. You stretch your arms above your head, as the stiffness in your body slowly leaves you, all that remained now was the fog the was clouding your mind. You don’t remember having anything to drink last night, and certainly not enough to have you waking up in a bloody field with no one around! Your hands clench at your sides, before you make your way to the edge of the field, climbing over the fence that had you surrounded, there didn’t appear to be any cattle around, but you weren’t keen on being on private property, especially when you had no way of explaining how you got there in the first place.

As you walked further away from your respawn point, things only seemed to become stranger. The cars that drove past you were all vintage, the types you had watched your grandfather fix up in his garage when you were a child. They all looked practically brand new, and like nothing you had ever seen just driving around town before. The few people you saw on the streets were all dressed like they had walked straight out of Woodstock, which was both a bold and unusual fashion statement. Though the icing on the cake was when you passed and information kiosk, you made a beeline straight for it, and almost screamed. Right there, on the front of the kiosk was a sign reading, ‘What to see in London.’  Your heart was pounding in your chest, so hard you thought you were about to go into cardiac arrest. You can’t be London, that was physically impossible, you didn’t live anywhere near London, especially not close enough to have woken up in a field here! You fish out your phone from your back pocket, paying no mind the stitching that had appeared on the fabric, trying to keep your focus on one thing at a time.  It takes far too long for your phone to wake up, the screen remaining black for minutes rather than seconds. The moment your regular display appears on the screen, you scramble to type in your pin number. The first thing you see is the lack of bars you have; you have no reception whatsoever. “What?!” You cry out, causing a few people to glance at you curiously. This isn’t possible, there was no such thing as black spots with your phone, you could be at the bottom of a cave, thousands of feet below ground, and you would still be able to call someone.

You shove your phone back in your pocket, taking note that it felt as if your wallet was somehow in your other back pocket, despite it not having been there when you fell asleep. Looking around, you spot a newspaper vending machine near a pub, heading directly for it. You take out your wallet, and place a coin in the coin slot, the drawer opening as you grab out a paper. Scanning your eyes over the top of the headline, you find what you had been looking for, the date. “Get fucked. It is not 1970!” You hiss, clutching the paper between fisted fingers. You feel dizzy as you look around, desperately trying to make some sense of this situation. Not only were you now somehow in London, but to top it all off, you appeared to be forty-nine years in the past! “If this is a prank, it needs to end now.” You say aloud, keeping am eye out for anyone you recognise. Perhaps this was your housemate’s idea of cheering you up, if that was the case, then she could at least show herself!

The pub you were standing out the front of suddenly came to life, as a group of college aged students came barrelling down the stairs and onto the street. You could only pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, though it appeared to be along the lines of, which pub they should next visit, and where had the best music playing tonight. With a deep breathe, you follow along behind the group, making sure to stay back a few paces so to not draw attention to yourself. As you pass by a few shop windows, you take a moment to assess your outfit, immediately noticing how it had changed. You had fallen asleep wearing your favourite pair of ripped denim jeans, and a crimson long sleeved shirt, that was at least two sizes too large, but one of the most comfortable shirts you owned. You had noticed your clothing felt different the moment you had woken in the field, but only now did you finally see just what had changed. Your legs were now encased in a pale blue pair of denim bell bottoms, with the waist reaching your navel, and white embroider flowers decorating the back pockets. Your shirt remained the same colour, though now had a choker neckline, with a deep oval cut out over your chest. The material was skin-tight and was tucked into the waist of your jeans. Finally came the shoes, you had been barefoot since the moment you walked through your apartment door, but apparently some higher power deemed it necessary for you to have shoes while walking through 1970’s London. The black leather boots zipped halfway up your calf, and the heel gave you a whole extra four inches of height.

The group you were trailing behind finally stopped outside of a new pub, taking a moment to checkout the fliers which were displayed on the glass door. With a collective nod, they all entered, and you quickly followed them, taking no note of the fluorescent green poster advertising which band was performing late tonight. 

The moment you enter the pub, you head straight for the bar, desperate for some liquid courage, hoping that maybe it would help you understand just what was going on right now.  You settle down on one of the bar stools, taking a split second to enjoy the way the seat spun beneath you, none of the bars you lived near in your time had spinning barstools. There was only one bartender working from what you can see, but it appeared to only be early in the afternoon still, and you could only assume more staff would arrive as the afternoon progressed.

                                                                                                                        “Afternoon Miss, what can I get for you?” The bartender asks, a cheery grin plastered permanently on his face. He had a fatherly demeanour about him, and you could already tell that he had a larger than life personality. For the first time since you had woken up, you felt safe, and as if you knew exactly where you were, and were no longer lost in a year decades before you had been born, and in a city you were entirely unfamiliar with.

After a few moments of silence, the man clears his throat, though continues to smile down at you. You can only imagine how miserable you must look, as his eyes seem to soften as he takes in your appearance. “Just whatever lager you have on tap please.” He nods at your order, and goes to fill your glass, as you lean your forearms against the sticky wood of the bar. Nothing was making sense about this day, how could you fall asleep in one year, and wake up in an entirely other one. Time travel didn’t exist, in fact you seem to recall reading an article on Buzzfeed the other day, about a scientist who had proven the ability to travel forwards or backwards in time was impossible. “That’s the last time I trust Buzzfeed. Next I’ll find out they lied about what my spirit animal is.” You mutter to yourself, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“What was that love?” The bartender quires as he places your foaming lager in front of you, lifting a bushy eyebrow down at your rambling.

You shake your head slowly, before smiling up at him. “Sorry, it’s just been an odd day.” Without thinking, you pull out your phone once again, placing it down on the counter. “You don’t happen to have a charger I could burrow, do you?”

The bartender lifts and eyebrow, his lips parting as if he were about to speak, before closing. “What do you mean, a charger? And what is that?” He asks, gesturing down to the slim phone that was waking up beside your glass. Hurriedly you slap your hand over the device, biting your bottom lip. Stupid, so bloody stupid! If this really is 1970, no one will have any idea what you’re talking about!

“Um, never mind. Thank you.” You sigh, before dropping your head down, pressing your forehead against the counter, not caring about what was currently sticking to the tip of your nose.

                                              ************************

Across the pub, three men sat around a table for four, an overflowing ashtray positioned in the centre, as multiple glasses and bottles surrounded it, all in various states of emptiness. One of the men takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling through the air above the table. “Ten pounds says I can convince little miss single at the bar, to come home with me after the show.”

“Home or your van?” One of the other men smirks, rolling his eyes at the antics of his friend. This was hardly the first time Roger had put money on picking up a lone woman at the bar. But it was the first time he had said anything about taking her home, usually the furthest he got was into the back of his van.

The blonde man frowns, taking a large gulp of his beer, before placing the amber bottle down. “Don’t go getting all technical on me Tim, that’s not the point of a bet. The point is for me to win money.”

“I must ask Roger, are we single handedly funding your degree at the moment, through all of these pointless bets?”

Roger stands slowly from the table, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “It’s not my fault you keep agreeing to my bets Brian!”

“I’m hoping one day you’ll raise the cost to one hundred pounds, and that will be the day you strike out.”

“As if I could ever strike out.”

Liked this chapter? Check out chapter two here! Or check out My Masterlist

[itsclydebitches]

Lovely Good Omens fandom! Many of you have asked for/mentioned having a text version of the Yelp reviews, which if I were a better person I would have remembered to include in the first place. Better late than never? So here’s a version below and I also threw this up on AO3 so there are options. For the record, I’m not at all trained in transcribing visual media, so if anyone wants to add to/edit/do whatever to this post, especially to make it more accessible, you have carte blanche to do so 👍

Also I typed this up in a hurry so, as always, apologies for any typos. 

Tagging: @lethargicdolphin, @marithlizard, @pearwaldorf

A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books 

Recommended Reviews 

Lindsay F. 

London, United Kingdom 

71 friends

3000 reviews

9874 photos

So I slipped into this place because I spotted my ex across the street and would have rather chugged a cocktail of bleach, lighter fluid, and a condensed solution of all my middle school years then talk to that asshole. Owner was on me the second I walked through the door and I thought he was gonna be one of those ‘Either buy something or get out’ types. Nah. I spilled the story, said I really wasn’t looking to purchase anything, and he LIT UP like nobody’s business. He gave me tea and promised I’d never run into my ex again. Which is a super sketchy promise on its own and also should have been hilarious coming from a guy a century behind in style.

...Kinda believed him though. 

Marina G. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

33 reviews

48 photos

Pretty sure this guy wants a library, not a bookshop. I mean, he’s nice and all when you first come in, but trying to actually buy a book? Good fucking luck. He’s too busy to see you right now (for the record he’s super bad at pretending to be busy). Or claims that this book has already been put on reserve (then why wasn’t it in the reserve pile...?). Or the price suddenly jumped an obscene amount. Or he just straight up hems and haws until you get fed up and leave. I watched him pull a novel straight out of a woman’s hands once when she claimed that price was no object and she wouldn’t be leaving the store until she’d purchased it. You’d think she was trying to kidnap one of the guy’s kids!

So yeah. Feel like popping in to browse, maybe take pictures for your research, all while making quiet conversation with someone who quite frankly knows his stuff? This is the place for you. Want to actually buy something? Go elsewhere. Pretty sure Fell doesn’t even own a cash register. At least I’ve never seen one. 

He wants a library and I’d honestly tell him as much if he didn’t scare me just a little bit...

Aaron S. 

New York, NY

68 friends

212 reviews 

337 photos

I stayed here for three days once. Found a bathroom off the romance section and a chair hidden away in the back. Way comfier than my mattress at home. Mostly played iPhone games and kept real quiet at night. Experiment ended when I popped out for breakfast and didn’t make it back before a random 10:00am closing. Don’t think the owner ever realized what was up. 

Hana S. 

London, United Kingdom 

112 friends

115 reviews

208 photos

I really love this place. I’ve been coming here since I moved to London, about twelve years ago, and it’s one of the most soothing bookstores I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. Yeah, you hear talk of weird things going on at Fell’s, but really? We could all do with a bit more quirky in our lives. And Fell provides that in spades: Annual plants that never seem to wither, let alone die. The smell of incense mixing with cocoa. Strange books tucked horizontally into the shelves, feeling like they have a touch of magic to them. Nonsensical conversations taking place in dark corners (I’m talking candid chats about the apocalypse and whether angels could actually bless all the rains down in Africa. I swear Fell and his boyfriend are the religion Mythbusters or something.) I’m going to sound like a total nerd here for a moment, but it feels like some sort of liminal space. You know when you were a kid and you were just desperate to receive your Hogwarts letter? Or find your own wardrobe to Narnia? That’s what walking into Fell’s feels like. Like you’ve finally found that portal and can stay as long as you like, provided you don’t try to take anything back with you into the ‘real’ world. Hell, maybe that’s why he won’t let anyone buy his books. 

Robert T. 

Union City, CA

4 friends

26 reviews

3 photos

There’s a snake?? In this shop?? A reALLY MASSIVE SNAKE????? What are y’all doing talkin’ about your meet cutes and shit someone call pest control!

Malini D. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

48 reviews

99 photos

I’m not gonna pretend I have anything to say about whether this is a good bookstore or not, but if you ever want knitting help you should definitely stop by. Mr. Fell knows an absurd amount about crafts for a guy who looks like my grandpa and he’s now replaced Youtube as my go-to for alleviating “Omg please fix this how the hell did I manage to reverse the pattern??” panic. For the record, I didn’t just wander up to a random bookseller one day and demand that he help me salvage the ruins of my first sweater. I’d taken a seat inside to wait out a storm, had my messy sleeve stuffed into my purse, and he’d offered the help. Bit of a bastard about things like gauge and color--not everyone wants to wear tartan, dude--but you get used to that. He means well. Said I should come back to show him the finished piece, which I did. Things just kind of spiraled from there. He’s an absolute treasure trove of knowledge once you get him talking and a muffin to boot. If he were twenty years younger and in any way straight I would have asked him out in a heartbeat. As it is I’m considering setting him up with Grandpa. 

Tiffany L. 

London, United Kingdom 

132 friends

312 reviews

34 photos

I’m not really a book person myself but I followed my wife in with our seventh-month old and was kinda embarrassed when he started making a fuss. Normally I’m full Badass Mom mode while in public--I’ve got a kid to feed, change, sooth, and you all can damn well deal with it--but this place was so quiet Liam seemed extra loud in comparison. I was about to take him back out when a man appeared out of nowhere. The owner I guess, based on how some of these other reviews describe him. Older gentleman with clothes out of some period piece. Anyway, he scoops Liam into his arms like he was born for it and started bouncing. Our fussy, temperamental, drama queen Liam settled in an instant and my wife got to browse to her heart’s content. I don’t know how he did it, but that man is an absolute angel. Full stars for that moment alone. 

Gillian L. 

The Hague, The Netherlands

283 friends

256 reviews

60 photos

Anyone know if the old Bentley parked out front is for sale? 

Update: It’s really, really, really not 

Billy H. 

Austen, TX

40 friends

2073 reviews

774 photos

QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS SO MANY QUEER BOOKS!!!

Gabriela G. 

London, United Kingdom

3 friends

22 reviews

1 photos

Run by this delightfully frumpy guy who sometimes hands out biscuits from a sewing tin like my gran used to. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I told him my name was Jared, I was 19, but sadly I’d never learned how to read. I have NEVER seen a man more confused in my life. 10/10 would meme him again. 

Colie A.

Enola, PA

201 friends

2778 reviews

10382 photos

I’m setting the record straight here since there are a bunch of reviews claiming it’s just London folklore: there is a snake at A.Z. Fell’s. Must be an exotic pet he usually keeps upstairs because I’ve only ever seen it twice. Is it big? Yes. Scary? Fuck yes, but I’ve never seen it do anything more than give a warning hiss at this drunk who wandered in and started yelling. (Are snakes good guard dogs? This one is.) The other time he was just chilling on top of one of the shelves. Snoozing, I guess. I asked Mr. Fell if I could pet him and he said maybe after he woke up, but then I had to get to class and all. 

Afraid of snakes? Steer clear. Otherwise I’d really recommend popping in and seeing if he’s around. Idk, maybe I’m just a snake fan but he looks super sweet and chill. Life is short. Boop the snake snoot. 

Jeremy W. 

London, United Kingdom 

86 friends

409 reviews

12 photos

I live down the street from A.Z. Fell’s and let me tell you, this place is spooky as fuck. All sorts of weird lights and noises coming from it. At all times of the day and night too. Either this bowtie wearing bookworm has one crazy sex life or the place is haunted. Jury’s out on which. 

Heather Ki. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

3852 reviews

1 photos

This shop smells. Not that old book smell either, oh no, but like something is molding. I took my little Johnny in here to try and get him interested in something other than those damned video games and I walk into what smells like a whole cloud of toxic mold! My boy has a weak constitution as it is and if he comes down with anything I will be pressing charges, you mark my words. 

Jo. W. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

410 reviews

61 photos

Hey, does anyone want to talk about the fact that this place burned down last month? As in, completely up in flames, I saw it happen, nothing but a smoking husk afterwards? Does no one else remember this??

Tiggi N. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

33 reviews

24 photos

Has anyone read this guy’s opening hours? I included a photo above: “I open the shop on most days about 9:30AM perhaps 10:AM. While occasionally I have opened the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1.” Absolutely insane. This guy’s a madman and I love him. If anyone actually manages to get into this place please let me know because I need to shake Fell’s hand. 

Mackenzie J. 

City Centre, Manchester, United Kingdom 

807 friends

2592 reviews

13218 photos

I told my girlfriend this shop’s got a snake named Anthony and she didn’t believe me. Going back for proof next week. 

Update: got the snake selfie!!!!!!!!

Penny O. 

Chicago, IL

87 friends

557 reviews

16 photos

Caught the owner snogging some hot twink behind the cookbooks. Well done, my dude. 

[cilliansaccent]

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 3

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better. 

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! 

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 3,869

!!Warnings!!: None. 

Date: March 2016

Chapter Name: A Heat of the Moment 

Brief Chapter Outline: Cillian meets Gabrijela’s best friend while both are still in bed before they head out for breakfast. Their morning ends with time spent at a local park where things begin to spice up between the pair... 

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

During the night, Gabrijela had a nightmare. She woke up crying out which startled Cillian and he had her gathered in his arms, hushing her and reminding her where she was and who she was with. 

He had made tea after that, and she had checked her phone to see what time it was. Around four in the morning. 

Together they sat back in bed after she refreshed herself in the bathroom, his arm around her, she clutched her tea and sipped it slowly. 

They soon went to bed afterwards, and she was all snuggled and warm once again in his arms. 

Came morning, she was scrolling through her Instagram and Facebook, replying to messages. 

Cillian stayed in bed with her and was chatting on the phone to someone. Sounded important, she thought. 

He hung up and sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Later today I have to drive up to Manchester." He said. 

"For filming?" She set her phone down, her heart sinking a little. 

"Mhm," he laid back down on the bed, and she rolled on to her side, facing him. 

"How will I get there? Or is there like an office here?" She asked. "As you can tell, I didn't read the letter again." She laughed softly. 

"You'll catch the train, I believe. You'll have to pay, as the rent for this apartment is all covered by the show. Is that fine?" Cillian asked. 

"Oh, sure! Yes, it's fine. I saved up as much as I could, and my dad gave me extra money, plus he gives me an additional fifty bucks a week." She said. 

"Oh, that's nice. I don't really know how much that is in pounds but seems a lot." He smiled, admiring her features. He was quite shocked and mesmerised how many freckles she had, so he asked, "I'm guessing you got the perks of your mothers side, huh?" 

She puffed out her cheeks, "Yeah. Lotsa freckles. And uh... Yeah." She was about to say good assets to but bit her tongue back. "Though, I was bullied as a child for it all. And as I got older, I discovered the magic of makeup. Covered the whole lot." She said, shaking her head. "But then I met my best friend who psyched me up, made me confident and to love myself." 

"And you should. There isn't anything wrong with how you look, or what you have." His voice was soft and still had that rugged sleepy tone. Made her feel... things. 

Her skin pricked when she felt his fingers glide through her messy bed hair, she stared into his eyes once more. Finding herself lost in them and hadn't realised he had moved closer. Or did she? 

But the sound of her phone ringing made them jump away from each other, he cleared his throat. 

Gabrijela picked up and her best friend, Lucia, let out a gasp. 

"Hey! Wait- Oh my god whos that?!" 

Gabrijela forgot for a whole second there that she could see Cillian beside her, "No one!" Gab clutched the phone to her chest. 

"Hey! HEY! No use hiding now, I saw it all girl! Lemme see! Hi random guy!" Lucia cried. 

"It's fine," Cillian chuckled when Gab gave him an apologetic look. 

She pulled the phone away and directed it at Cillian, who seriously looked like he was doing more than sleeping with his messy hair and sleepy eyes. 

"Finally, better than seeing your tits, Gabbie. Hi, hi, I'm Lucia." The dark-skinned girl with wild black hair waved excitedly through the phone. 

"Hello, Lucia. I'm Cillian." He waved back. 

"Goodness! I know! Oh my goodness! Gabbie! Scandalous!!" Lucia laughed, "Holy crap. Oh." She spoke in Spanish, and for a few minutes, they stared at the ceiling. 

Gabrijela was blushing like mad, "God she's mad. I'm so sorry." 

"Don't be, it's seriously okay," he got up and stretched. She couldn't help look at his butt. 

It was cute. 

"Hey, where'd he go? I got some questions! Why are you in bed with each other huh? Gab I need answers." Lucia came back into the frame, her brows high up and questioning look in her dark eyes. 

"Nothing happened, my god. So fucking horny." She muttered so Cillian couldn't hear. 

He went into the bathroom, the door shut a little. 

"You two seemed to have had a rumble of some sort." Lucia chided as Gabrijela popped on her Airpods. 

"Nooo, no fair!" Lucia whined. 

"Nope. Not allowed." Gabrijela laid on her side, legs pulled up a little. 

"Please tell me why then? If you didn't do anything then why? How'd you meet? Have you started the internship yet?" Lucia laid out the questions. 

"He picked me up at the airport, yesterday we spend the afternoon together and went for dinner and then... I guess he stayed the night because it was awfully late." Gabrijela wasn't going to tell Lucia what happened in the pub. She didn't want to stress her bestie out anymore. 

"Oh, yes. It was late." Lucia annunciated with a wink and air quotes with her fingers. 

"It was! I offered him to stay." She whispered it was more like an angry hiss. "Honestly, you're such a pain in the ass." She groaned. 

"But a fantastic pain in the ass! You love me!" She beamed. 

"Yeah, that's true." She laughed softly before Lucia delved into a different subject, about some guy she managed to nail the night before at some house party she went to. 

Cillian came back out of the bathroom and had a view of Gabrijela's ass. She hadn't noticed he stared at her, this... sudden need for her weaved through him and he quickly turned to go to the kitchen. 

What the fuck, he thought as he made coffee for the both of them, what was wrong with him? She was so out of his league and he shouldn't even come out of the bathroom until she moved. 

But it seemed it would have been a while when thirty minutes later she hung up and got up from the bed. 

"God, she can talk." She huffed as she came to the kitchen, and he handed her the mug of coffee. He made it his way so he hoped she liked it. 

"She seems quite uh, outgoing." He said, sipping his coffee. 

"Yeah. She is. But I think she was very hyper because she saw you. She's a massive fan." She leaned against the door frame of the kitchen. 

"So, she's your best friend?" He continued. 

"Yeah. She's twenty-three but thanks to our parents who know each other, we literally grew up together. She's like my little sister, but more... wild. She hates having foundations and loves being taken on the wind, so she says." 

"That's sweet. I guess that life suits some people." He stated with a slight shrug. 

"Yeah. My other three friends have a partner, three marriages next year." She laughed softly. I'm a bridesmaid for one." 

"Oh? You said three are getting married. Busy year." He blinked with surprise. 

"Oh yeah, very. Three different outfits. One is getting married in February, so it'll be summer. The one in July, and the other September." She shook her head. 

"Damn. One in each season almost. Gifts too?" He finished his coffee. 

"Yep. They did this deliberately, in the same year. Two will be at the same function rooms, the other is more country-styled as she lives in the countryside. If I was also getting married, I think I would've been sucked into doing it in the same year too." She shuddered, "I wouldn't want that. I'll have my own year." 

"Yeah. I'd agree on that. Would be too much." Cillian nodded. 

"Oh well, at least I can find an outfit here for the weddings. Get something... Different. Or well, depends if I have enough money on the end after my shopping spree." She set her empty cup into the sink and washed up. 

"So, should I make breakfast or...?" Gabrijela asked. 

"I thought we should go out for breakfast. There's a nice pub down the road but I can assure you there won't be any--"

"It's fine. I'm sure it'll be amazing." She turned to him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

He closed his mouth and smiled, "Alright. I'll get myself dressed, I guess it'll be the same thing as yesterday." He hummed and went to fetch his clothing. 

Gabrijela grabbed some black jeans, a short-sleeved cream sweatshirt, on top a checkered black and white shirt and then an oversized denim jacket on top of it all. 

She pulled on her Doc Martins and a small crossbody bag enough for her wallet, phone and her passport. 

"Ready." She smiled and the pair headed out. 

The pub had an okay crowd, still had the creepy old man vibe but maybe she was still shaken up from last night. 

Cillian kept close to her side, his hand brushing along hers to remind her he was there. They took a table outside instead of inside. 

She picked up the menu and looked through it, "I'll have the big breakfast." She said. 

"Okay, what about a drink?" He asked, already knowing what he wants. 

"Mocha, please. Skim milk." She replied as she set the menu down. 

He nodded and got up to order inside. He came back after a moment before his phone rang up. 

He picked up, "Hey Sile." He said, his Irish accent spiked at the name. 

She remembered he had two younger sisters, this must be one of them. 

"Yeah... Yeah thank you, I'd love that..." He laughed, "Oh, god okay. Tell mum and dad I said hi and I love them... Thank you, gonna be a long couple of months ahead. See you, Sil." He said and hung up. 

"Who was that?" Gabrijela asked, even if she had an idea who. 

"My sister. Wishing me all the best for the upcoming months said she might come down with Orla, my other sister, and visit me." He said with a happy smile, he seemed to light up when he spoke about his family. 

"Awh! How cute! Maybe I should say hi," Gab gave him a cheeky smile. Their drinks were set in front of them. 

"Of course you can. They would love to meet you." Cillian agreed with her despite she was only kidding. 

"Oh-Oh yeah okay." She took her cup and took a drink of it. Perfect balance. 

As they continued to chat about this and that, some girls came up to the table. 

The brunette had a heavy accent, "Mr Murphy? Hi, I-I'm a big fan of you a-and I was w-wondering if you c-could sign this f-for me?" She held out a photograph of him as Thomas Shelby. 

Behind, her mother it seemed, was giving her an encouraging smiled as the other two girls seemed to do the same, holding out their own things for him to sign. 

Cillian seemed suddenly nervous and gave a look at Gabrijela, "Go ahead." Gab said, nodding a little. 

He smiled and signed the items, answering the fans questions but had politely declined a photograph with them. He gave them all hugs and they seemed to bloom with utter joy as they all giggled and hurried along with the older woman. 

"You wouldn't believe it but I get fans following me sometimes." He said as he turned back to Gabrijela. 

"Oh?" She snickered as their food came. 

"Yeah. I'm not too fond of it though. But it's not too much of a nuisance, not in London anyway. Where we film there's a lot of fans that hang around, hoping to catch a glimpse or for me to sign something." He said, smacking his lips in a 'tsk' sound. 

"But no photos?" She tilted her head to the side as she cut up her sausages. 

"No. I'd rather give a hug or sign, better for them to remember the moment." He explained. 

"True, but I'd always love a photo. I'd cherish that just as much as a moment, but that's just me." She said eating her food. 

"How about now? The past two days with me?" He looked up and paused from taking a bite out of his toast. 

She smiled as she gazed down at her food, "Cillian, this... experience, I'll remember it even after I've died. Besides, I got a photo with you." She winked at him. 

"Oh, that's true, true." He laughed sipping his coffee. "I'm glad I can make this experience amazing. It truly makes me thrilled." 

They moved on to a topic they both loved, music. It became heated, and people turned to see what they were on about. But they were in their moment, and even after they left the pub. 

They headed to a local park nearby, they had managed to calm down and come to an agreement finally. 

There was a little private area and they went there, beneath a large tree that had overhanging branches. There was barely anyone around but it was still nice. 

She crossed her leg over, hands folded in her lap. They sat there, in silence, totally in content with each others presence and the area around them. 

Peace. 

"I'll be leaving in three hours," Cillian said after some time. 

"Mood killer," She whined, looking at him with a scowl. 

"Sorry, wanted to remind you." He had an arm behind her, and she had moved closer to his side. 

"I'm gonna miss you." She said softly, she leaned her head back on his arm. 

"We'll see each other basically every day!" He chuckled softly. 

"I know, but we won't hang out as much, like now." She reached up and picked some lint off his shirt. 

He watched the movement, "Who said we won't hang out? We'll get the time. We can make time." He took her hand, holding it to his chest. 

The whole thing was weird, it felt... intimate. His arm around her, their heads close, his eyes on her. 

This closeness with Cillian was different than anything she had experienced. With her ex, whom she broke up a year ago, was a different type of closeness. It was more sex-driven and lust, unlike with Cillian, they connected with their similar likes and dislikes, and he never seemed to judge her. 

He looked at her as if she was more than a sex object, he watched her with pure interest and intrigue. 

But maybe she was looking too much into it, they had known each other well over forty-eight hours, and she was to be here till January. Who knows, maybe he was only putting on a show since he was a very reserved man. 

She didn't know how he was truly when he wasn't in his acting spotlight, maybe he wasn't nice, maybe-

She was overthinking now to an extreme and suddenly sat up. 

"What is it?" Cillian asked, sitting forward with her, a hand on her back. 

"Nothing, just thinking." She said as she slowly sat back, she moved closer to his side and laid her head on his shoulder.

His arm was around her once again and he squeezed her gently to him, "About?" He held her hand in his lap again, his thumb running over her knuckles. 

"Ah, nothing. Something silly." She replied, her emotions were on a wild roller coaster ride. 

"You know, you can talk to me? I know we have only known each other for a bit, but, I am here for a good chat. As long as you want." He brushed a hair away from her cheek, and she looked up once more. 

A devilish thought came to her and she had the urge to satisfy it. But she may as well bring down this growing relationship into the gutter if she did so. 

And he may not want to talk to her at all, only during her times when she was on set. 

"Yeah. I know. Thank you for the offer." She smiled, it made crinkles at the corners of her eyes. 

He let out a soft gasp, "Smile again like that." He suddenly said. 

"What?" She laughed a little. 

"Smile." He said and began to tickle her. 

"Cillian!" She cried out and laughed, trying to fight him off. "What is wrong with you!" She said in between laughter. 

She managed to escape, "Bad!" She backed up when he stood, giving her a cheeky smirk. 

And then she ran. He chased after her, around the little park they went. 

She laughed and he did too, they were having the time of their life. No one bothered them. 

She had lost him around a tree and was looking behind her, but didn't see him ahead. Neither did he. 

She ran right into him and their heads clashed. Together they tumbled back onto the grass with a gasp then a grunt from Cillian. 

She was on top of him rubbing her forehead, "Owie." She complained. 

"I hope I don't get a bruise now." He said, wincing a little. 

"What about my face, I can't get a giant lump on mine." She pushed herself up a little, both arms on either side of his head. Her hair was a veil around them. 

"Be more concerned about mine!" He squeezed her sides and she yelped, jumping at the touch. 

"You'll be fine!" She argued back. She watched his eyes widen a little, and he scoffed. 

She smirked, and she wasn't going to lie to herself, she did like this. She moved and he let out a soft grunt, she was now straddling his waist. 

"Should we get up?" He asked, slowly sitting upright. His arms moved around her waist, her hands slid up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

"I don't know, do you want to get up?" She asked, her breath hitched when she felt his fingers tips come into contact with her bare skin. 

"I'm asking you." His tone was a gentle caress for her ears. 

She gulped, holding his gaze once more, and that devilish thought returned and she found herself succumbing to it as she leaned in. 

Cillian felt his heart pound faster as he watched Gabrijela lean in, his mind was telling to be the better man and to pull away, but he honestly didn't know if that was the right choice. Move away and create this awkwardness between them or let it happen. 

But he didn't need to do anything when she was the one who jumped back. 

"Fuck, I-I don't-" She scrambled off him, still positioned between his legs. 

"It's okay. Hey." He moved to a kneeling position and took her hand. "It's alright. Don't fret." 

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed a little, "God I don't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to. It's too early, fuck, what is wrong with me?" She laughed nervously as she stood up. 

He stood up as well, "Nothing is wrong with you. Heat of the moment." He stroked her knuckle with a thumb.

The touch eased her, but the 'heat' of the moment made her tingly all over. Everywhere. 

"Yeah. Heat of the moment. I'm still sorry though. I shouldn't have done that." She shakes her head, pulling her hand back. His touch was making her feel all sort of things. 

He sighed, "Come on, let's head on home." He said to her and she followed him reluctantly. 

The silence was weird and awkward. She stood before the door of her apartment and faced him, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" She said. 

"Yeah, we will. It'll be a big day, so get some early shut-eye, eh?" He asked. 

His expression was soft, caring. No hint of judgement. It made her almost want to kiss him. 

"Okay. I will. I gotta prepare my stuff for tomorrow anyway, got a report to do." She hummed. 

"Alright." He kinda just stood there, expecting something else. 

She stepped down a step and wrapped her arms around his neck. She held on to him and his arms wrapped around her swiftly. 

"Thank you for the last three days. I can't wait to work with you further," She murmured and pulled back enough to admire his finely chiselled face. 

"Yeah, neither can I. And the rest of the crew, of course." He squeezed her sides again. 

Heat bloomed within her, "See you tomorrow, Cillian. Drive safe." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

He pulled her close so their bodies were flushed. She could feel every hard part of him, the strength of his body. 

She let out a soft moan and blushed as they pulled back, "You be safe too. Ring me if anything happens alright? Even if you need a chat. It'll be a long train ride." He said, cupping her cheek with a hand. 

She could see the nerves behind those lovely big eyes, the moment had rattled him. And she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. 

She nodded and stepped back, "Bye." She smiled and went to the door, punching in her pin and pushed open the door. She looked at him once more before she turned away and closed the door behind her. 

When she came to her apartment and peeked out the balcony, he wasn't there. His car was gone. 

She sighed and went back inside, the last hour was wild and she never felt so damn hungry for more. 

More of him. 

Her heart ached, her body ached in places where she wasn't satisfied in a long while. 

God, she thought, she was here on an internship. To fucking learn. Not to fuck the materials. 

She shook her head and cursed herself when she thought about the scenes of him in the show. The intimate ones. 

Another moan escaped her. "Fucking horny piece of shit," She muttered to herself and fished out what would ease her body. 

Later that night... 

She had received a call from Allison. The news was, she was going to be picked up around five in the morning. 

She chatted with the woman about what to expect, how long she was going to be on set or if there was anything else she was supposed to do. 

Gabrijela learned that she was going to work with, bing bing! Cillian most of the time, and the other men who were to be the Shelby men. 

Great, she thought, she would have to deal with the man who was wedging himself into her heart and soul. 

But, she had to put it aside. This was for her studies, and she needed to focus. And to shower. And eat. And then sleep. 

But she was also excited that she wasn't just going to work on the set, she was going to help Allison design some clothing for some play that was set to practice early next year. 

More to learn, the hungrier she got. 

She did as Cillian told, eat, shower, talked to her dad for a bit before she hit the hay. 

Though, her dreams were muddled with Cillian, his gaze, his touches, his soft lips that brought about gooseflesh all over her. 

And the wicked sounds he pulled from her. 

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

Out of this world.

Summary: When Brian is with you, you take him out of this world...but then he soon finds that you really are out of this world.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, angst, teeny tiny suggestive bit but it's like one line.

A/N: Just a little idea I had because I am a sucker for space and Brian so I mashed them together and thus this fic was created. (Plus how angelic and otherworldly does Bri look in that gif??? 😫👌😭) Enjoy! 💖

Roger and John shot each other a knowing glance and began to close in on Brian. "Good weekend, Bri?" Roger asked. "Did you get up to much?" He pried "Only John and I popped round to your flat and you weren't in..."

Brian glared at the patch of bare wall in front of him and huffed "Yeah, I was out of London for a bit. I told you all that." He grabbed his guitar before smiling to himself.

"Ohhh I know that smile!" Freddie teased with a grin "That's a 'I spent time with a girl' smile! I always notice that smile on you these days!" He nudged Brian and the guitarist quietly groaned.

"So, who is it?" John asked "And there's no point denying it. We know you're seeing someone and you've being seeing this person for a while too..." he added "We've noticed a shift in your mood for a long time now."

Brian sent his bandmates a deadpanned expression, trying his best at a poker face. "Well their first name is Noneofya and their second name is business."

John rolled his eyes while Roger looked puzzled. "That's such a strange...ohhhh..."

"Can we just get back to focusing on getting this album done?" Brian was reaching the end of his tether "And for the record...I'm not seeing anyone!" The three boys sent each other an unconvinced look while Brian turned his back to them while he tuned his guitar. He let out a defeated sigh under his breath and glanced out of the window up to the blue sky above. "I'm not seeing anyone for a year..."

•••

Brian felt a force crash against his chest as he strolled through Hyde Park one chilly Saturday afternoon. "Oh I'm so sorry!" Someone was trying to catch their breath in front of him, a cloud of condensation from their breath floating around him. Brian looked down at you clutching your stomach.

"It's uh...it's alright. Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked up and softly smiled at the stranger "It should be me asking you if you're alright since I was stupid enough to run right into you!" You laughed and Brian chuckled "But yes, thank you, I'm alright. Are you okay?"

He waved off your concern "Ah I'm fine, don't worry about it..." he waited you to finish his sentence with your name.

"Y/N." You shook his hand "I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"Brian May. You want catch your breath over a tea or coffee or something stronger?" He motioned over to the row of cafes and bars that lined the park.

"Coffee is good, I can't drink while I'm training." Brian raised an intrigued brow as the two of you made your way to a cafe.

"Training?" He repeated.

"Uh, yeah. Lots of running!" You cracked a smile "What can I get you?" You asked when you entered the coffee shop.

Brian held out his hand "Oh no, this is on me! I insist!" He ordered and picked up the coffee while you grabbed a table. "So what are you training for? London marathon or something?" He asked making general chit chat.

"Uh no..." you played with the napkin under your coffee cup and nervously laughed. "I'm actually in the middle of my astronaut training."

Brian choked on his coffee "I-I'm sorry," he wiped away the dots of coffee on his chin "Did I just hear you right?"

You nodded "Yeah," you widely smiled and wiped away a bit of foamy coffee he missed. "You did."

•••

"It's always good having you stay the weekend," you snuggled closer to Brian, your cheek pressed against his chest. "Six days feels like forever when you're not around. Especially after all that training- I think I've pulled every muscle in my body this week!" Brian chuckled and tapped your shoulder for you to sit up. He sat behind you and began rubbing your shoulders and peppered kisses along your neck and the top of your back. He knew how hard you were working, you called him every morning and by the time you called back again at night you were drained. He looked at all your textbooks on the dresser that contained words with ten letters or more that he could barely pronounce. Even though he was an astrophysicist, astronaut terms were very different- especially as most words were in Russian. You spent most of the week in Europe, mainly flying between Germany, where you trained, and Paris, where the European Space Agency was before heading back to London.

Four months after you bumped into Brian in Hyde Park you officially started dating. You knew a bit about the band he was in but he mainly spoke to you about space and other galactic wonders. He was happy to have met someone that was on the same wavelength as him- that you understood what he was talking about. That was almost two years ago now and the both of you had completely fallen for each other. He hadn't mentioned you to the band yet, he wanted to introduce you to them in person but you had barely any time to spare so hadn't met them yet.

You loosely took his hand when he stopped massaging and took him outside, grabbing your keys to your car on the way. "Where are we going?" He asked.

You smiled and tapped your nose and drove out of London for what felt like hours to Brian but it was only about half an hour. It was pitch black where you took him- there was no light pollution from the city. The only source of light came from the moon and stars above. When you turned off the engine, stepped out the car and opened the boot. The two of you sat in the back and looked up to the sky. "There's Aquila, that constellation there." You pointed it out "Can you believe it contains the star Altair, one of the closest stars we can see with the naked eye to earth."

"Yes I can believe that," Brian grinned at your overly enthusiastic tone and wrapped an arm around your waist. "Because I know about this stuff just as much as you do."

You smiled and turned your head to him, your smile faltering slightly as you grabbed his hand. It felt like your throat was concaving in on itself. You squeezed his hand tightly, capturing his attention. "I'm leaving," you whispered.

Brian's brow crinkled "London?"

"Earth."

Brian swallowed hard and looked up to the sky again. A long spell of silence followed. He knew this would eventually happen, he just wished it was further away. "When?" Was all he could say.

You pursed your lips slightly "Soyuz capsule is ready in three months, after tests and checks...five. I'll be leaving in five months for a year to go to the space station and...do my thing, I guess." You weakly smiled.

Brian engulfed you in a hug "I'm so proud of you," he mumbled into your neck "So proud."

"We still have lots of time before I leave," you reassured "And plenty of time when I get back and I'll be able to contact you from the station!" You placed a hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb. "I love you, Brian." He looked down at you with tears pricking his eyes "More than anything in this universe..." you wiped away the stray tear that was on his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N," he rested his forehead on yours before he gently kissed you. The pair of you then looked up to the stars once more, keeping each other close.

•••

The final week you had on earth you spent in Germany at the astronaut centre in Cologne. Brian came with you, he made an excuse to the band that he was visiting family for a bit. He didn't want to tell the boys about you, especially now, because he knew how much they'd tease him about you- he didn't need that when you were going to be leaving. Hearing your name mentioned would break his heart. After introducing Brian to your two fellow teammates and having dinner with them and their partners, you managed to spend some time alone with him in your room at the centre. "What are you most looking forward to?" He asked, trailing his fingers up and down your arm as you lay against him in bed.

"I'm going to be doing a spacewalk so that's the biggest thing I'm looking forward to!" You ecstatically grinned. "Putting years of learning Russian to good use!" You joked and looked up to Brian who was chuckling away. "And coming home, to you." He sent you a lopsided smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he knew in the back of his mind that there was always the possibility of complications with these things. Especially venturing up to a place that humans barely understood yet. "Hey," you became serious when you saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "I'm coming home. I promise you. You just better wait for me!" You playfully nudged him.

"For you? I'd wait forever," he kissed you. "When you come back...why don't you move in with me?" You raised a brow "I mean you don't have to but...I know you'll be doing a lot less traveling back and fourth to Europe so you wouldn't need to keep renting that expensive flat. It is very expensive- too expensive for one person. You could just move in with me and-" you cut off his rambling with a kiss.

"Yes I'll move in with you," you smiled against his lips. You sat back a little "I'll come home, and I'll move in with you, and I'll meet your bandmates- finally! And go to your concerts- at last! And we'll talk about the stars every night until we fall asleep." You soothingly stroked his cheek with your thumb. You'd rather have him live in hope than in fear. Brian placed his hands on your hips. "This is the last time you'll be able to touch me before I go into quarantine..." you whispered.

Brian looked into your eyes, that niggle of doubt being drowned by lust. "Well, we better put this time to good use..." You let out a giggle as he flipped you onto the bed and peppered kisses on every bit of skin he could see. It was the last chance either of you would get- for a while at least. Over the next few days Brian watched you from behind glass as you and your teammates held press conferences. He could feel his heart crying out for you, it was trying to burst out of his chest and break down that glass that kept out the outside world. It pained him having you so close yet so far. A thick pane of glass separated you both for five days. Brian had only spent two out of seven days actually with you and not behind a window. "Big day tomorrow," he smiled and pressed his hand to the pane of glass, you were doing the same on the other side as you spoke to him through the phone.

"I know," your voice was tight, nerves laced in between every word. "We fly to Kazakhstan tonight and then leave tomorrow morning. I think someone said it would be on BBC news if you want hear my song that each of us get to pick and then listen to while we wait for launch- might pleasantly surprise you," you winked, leaving Brian curious. "You can also catch me causally flying out of the atmosphere at an average of 25,000 kilometres per hour," you played it cool before laughing. "After around ten minutes gravity is going to be so overrated," you joked and Brian cracked a smile. "I've got a photo of you in my spacesuit," you smiled and Brian's eyes lit up, his heart lept at the gesture. "They also said I could keep the patches off of it when I get back. I'll let you choose ones you like." You let out a huge sigh. It was starting to sink in what you'd be doing tomorrow. Where you'd be going. "I'm so nervous, Brian."

He knew you meant scared, he could see the worry and fear all over your face. He wanted to do nothing more than break down the glass and hold you in his arms. But Brian knew you told him you were nervous because you didn't want to worry him- he loved that you always considered him first. "You have nothing to be nervous about." He assured. "You are going to go up there and live the absolute dream and you'll be able to phone me and I'll quiz you about astrophysics-"

You cut him off with a playful groan "No!Cosmology is my forte! It's not fair when you're an astrophysicist! You'll ask me difficult questions!" You laughed and then bit down on your lip. "I'm going to see the Earth this time tomorrow. I'm going to be looking down on it and thinking; 'That's my world down there,' only I won't be thinking about the planet." You looked deep into Brian's eyes, your fingers twitched against the glass as you tried to claw away at it and intertwine your fingers with his. You both didn't realise how touch starved you were until you were so close but couldn't get to each other. "My world," you whispered and a tear fell down your cheek as quick as a shooting star in the sky. "Right in front of me."

"I love you," Brian said as soon as a bell went off, indicating that it was time for you to go.

"I love you, too." You smiled and you both kissed the glass before Brian watch you disappear behind the door. His head hung low and he wiped away the tears with his forefinger and thumb. He hoped that wouldn't be the last time he saw you on earth.

•••

Brian arrived in London early the next morning, by the time he got back from Germany he knew you'd be already on the spacecraft- patiently waiting in a cramped Soyuz with your Russian and Parisian teammates. As soon as Brian arrived home he turned on the news to watch you. He sat on the table hunched over, his eyes glued to the box in front of him. His fingers were trembling and his mouth was going dry. "And now we can see a live feed of inside the capsule," the newsreader said and Brian let out a sob with a small smile on his face seeing you in your spacesuit pressing buttons and going through final checks. "On board we have Russian commander and cosmonaut, Yuri Gidzenko and French flight engineer, Patrick Baudry and British flight engineer Y/N Y/L/N." Brian kneeled down in front of his tv, tracing his fingers over your face. He heard you say something in Russian before you pressed a few buttons and you all sat back waiting. Brian's heart was almost bursting he was so proud of you.

Brian heard two songs play, the sound of the tv filled his empty, quiet flat. He noticed your commander, who was sitting in the middle, playfully nudge your arm before your song of choice came on. Brian let out a watery laugh hearing 'Don't stop me now' come on. He could see the two men in the capsule tease you about it but you just smiled and softly sang to yourself. "Will he be watching?" Yuri asked in Russian and you nodded with a wide grin. "Let's give him a wave!" He pointed to the camera and the three of you waved.

"Oh they're giving us wave!" The news reporter laughed "Seems we have a Queen fan on board...fitting song!" Brian wiped away the tears of sadness and joy rolling down his cheeks seeing you dance and bob along to the song- a song that his band had created. Before either of you knew it, final countdowns were being said and you were being hurled through the air. Your eyes shut for a moment, your whole body trembling from the force created by the shuttle. You pressed a few buttons and Brian watched you intently, his heart swelling with pride. He saw a pen dangling in front of you but when he blinked, it was gone. It was floating. Your arms unintentionally raised as weightlessness surrounded you all, you turned to your teammates with a beaming smile and shook hands with them all with you reached zero gravity- it was one of many milestones for you all. The feed cut off when you reached a certain point and Brian sighed, his hand dismally dragging down the tv screen.

He didn't move from the same spot all day until the phone rang late at night. "Hello?" he groaned and rubbed his face, the lack of sleep and jet lag was catching up with him.

"Brian?" The line was a little crackly but he knew it was you. He let out a lungful of air and laughed down the phone, relieved to hear you. "Brian...the view," he could almost see your smile. "I've barely remembered to breathe, it keeps taking my breath away. I think I've died and gone to heaven!"

"It's so good to hear your voice, how was the trip?"

"Long! But worth every second to be up here." You paused for a moment "I'm floating, Bri. It doesn't feel real. It's like I'm underwater in a swimming pool but I can breathe- when I remember to!" You both laughed. "I feel so light and free." You paused and looked out the window, like you were trying to spot Brian. "But it's nothing compared to the way you make me float...it's like you steal all my gravity when your hands are on my skin or when your lips are on mine..." he heard you sniffle. "I can't cry too much because my tears float off my cheeks and get sucked into the vents- could cause a fire!" You let out a watery chuckle and so did Brian. "Did you like my song choice?"

"I did, my supersonic woman" you giggled, bashfully and Brian picked up the phone to sit on his window ledge, looking up at the starry sky. "You really are up there aren't you?" He murmured in amazement and disappointment. He wanted you on Earth with him.

"Afraid so, love," you sadly smiled. "But I'll be home sooner than you think. The time will fly in and when you look up to the sky, know that I'm looking down on you with a smile. Always. I have to go, I love you."

"I love you too," with that the line went dead and Brian slowly placed the receiver down.

He counted down the days until you were back with him. Your weekly phone calls always brightened his day and knowing that you were up there thinking of him and having fun made the time he had to wait to have you in his arms again a little more bearable. You even called when the space station was going to be over London and Brian sat up for most of the night with his telescope looking for it out the window. He noticed it zooming passed- you were on the phone to him at the time and told him you were waving down. He waved back was tears streaming down his face and neck. Brian then watched you one afternoon on tv while you did your spacewalk. He was a blubbering mess seeing you walking in space with the biggest smile on your face singing 'space oddity' to your crew- blissfully unaware that it would be shown on the news later that day. He caught a glimpse of himself in your spacesuit, a photo of him there just like you said. He once said that you took him out of this world, lazing in bed with you after a hot and heated shagging session, but now you had took Brian out of this world literally.

•••

It was the final night for the three of you on the space station. You had all built up a huge collection of photos, leaving one behind in the station of the three of you with earth in the background. You couldn't wait to show Brian all the ones you had taken. You packed your stuff in the Soyuz and then called Brian before getting some sleep. "I can't believe you're home tomorrow, it's went in so fast but it also feels like forever." You could hear the anticipation in his voice.

"I'm going to miss it up here," you smiled looking around. "Do I really have to come home?" You teased him.

"Yes! Yes you really bloody do!" Brian laughed. "I better let you get some sleep, I'll see you in a few days okay? Take care and come home in one piece. Be safe, blow a kiss to the earth for me, and remember that I love you."

"I'll do all those things for you. She's an absolute beaut, Bri. I wish you could have been up here with me to see it. The colours, the clouds, the northern lights, the thunderstorms and bursts of lightning...It's our home. And it's beautiful. I have so many photos to show you." You sniffled and softly smiled looking down at the hazy blue band of atmosphere. You'd miss seeing that every day. "I love you. I'll see you when I arrive back in London in a few days time." The line went dead and Brian widely grinned. He was going to see you in the flesh again. Not see you on tv or in a newspaper. He was going to have you in his arms.

Brian watched the news the next day waiting to see you and the crew on the screen. You had undocked from the station and were on your way back home. He made a cup of tea and went into the living room again. Brian brought the cup to his mouth and then his hand suddenly released it- his whole body going numb. "Some breaking news," Brian walked right through the shattered mug and kneeled on the floor next to the tv. "It's been reported that the crew of the Soyuz capsule are experiencing some complications on their journey back to earth." Brian turned up the tv with shaking fingers. This wasn't happening. You promised him. "We're getting reports that the capsule was hit by a small rock and has created a breach in the capsule. The director of the ESA joins me now via satellite link," the news reporter turned to the director who was on a screen. "What is happening?"

"Well, the rock that hit against the capsule has cut through one of the main lines that supplies the oxygen to the astronauts. They have about an forty minutes left of their journey and the oxygen is running out." They said and Brian felt tears steaming down his face like a waterfall. "We have some live images now," Brian let out a loud sob seeing you and your crew trying to frantically solve the problem. He could see the look of fear on your face but you still remained unbelievably calm.

"So what you're technically saying is that they could suffocate in the cabin before reaching the earth's surface?" Brian was slowly crumbling inside- you didn't deserve that. None of you did.

The director sighed "Or...the capsule could overheat and burn up upon re-entry. We don't know what their chances will be but the crew are highly skilled. They will do everything possible to get home safely." Brian tried ringing through to the ESA headquarters- you had left him a number before you left but he couldn't get through. He was watching you and your crew losing air in front of his eyes.

As the three of you went through the process of re-entry, you all tried to fix the issue as best you could. The heat was becoming unbearable and it felt as if there was a weight on your chest as your lungs struggled to accept the dense atmosphere that was getting worse. "ETA- 5 minutes," you breathed out, starting to lose consciousness as fast as your teammates. "Oxygen- one and a half if were lucky." You all tapped frantically away at buttons. "Almost there boys," you looked at Yuri and Patrick- their eyes shut and heads bowed slightly. "Control- Gidzenko and Baudry are unconscious," you gasped for more air. "I need...I need to land the capsule myself." You groaned and struggled to keep you eyes open, there were people shouting at you through the coms but all you could hear was static and the rushing air outside. "I can't breathe..." you gasped holding and clawing at your chest as your eyes began to flutter shut. Your lungs couldn't cope, your breath had been taken away and not in the good way. Not like the way Brian took your breath away and made you see the most wonderful stars, not like the kind you had been looking up to all your life. "I can't do this..." you felt a tear slip down your cheek, your eyes opened and then you saw the photo of him. Brian. Safely tucked away in your spacesuit. "I promised," you groaned, stretching across to push a button. A loud ringing filled the cabin and your two teammates groaned, moving a little but still not waking up- that ringing meant the oxygen had ran out. "Okay I can do this...I can...supersonic woman, c'mon Y/N." You checked the clock you had a minute to land. You couldn't give up now, the last ten seconds were crucial for a safe landing. You had to manually engage the thrusters and then land. When you did, it felt like you had put yourself through a car crash twenty times. Dots of black began to cloud your vision, your breaths becoming a lot shorter before you completely blacked out.

•••

Brain didn't even realise he had fallen asleep until the phone rang and woke him up, his eyes heavy from tears. "Hello?"

"Brian? It's Y/N..."

He was now wide awake, almost dropping the phone "Y-you're alive?! Oh god!" He cried down the phone "I thought you died!" He sobbed "I thought you-"

"Shhh," you tried to soothe him over the phone bit you were crying just as much. "I'm okay. I'm here. I promised you I'd come back home didn't I?" You had to have someone help you wipe away your tears- your muscles were still adjusting to gravity. "I'm in the hospital but we're all okay. I'm going to be home in a few days and I swear to you I'm going to give you the biggest hug I can!" You let out a watery laugh. "I'm home, Bri. I made it. We all did."

•••

Brian was staring at the front page of the newspaper John was reading a few days later. Your face was on it along with photos of your teammates being pulled out the craft and photos of you all in hospital with your thumbs up. "Remarkable isn't it?" John murmured. "She saved their lives apparently. If no one could have enabled the landing sequence they would have died." Brian shut his eyes- he hated being reminded of that fact. "They're calling her a hero," John smiled and Brian tried not to let any tears slip down his cheeks.

"Didn't she play 'Don't stop me now'?" Roger hummed and Brian nodded. They were at the BBC news centre to do an interview with a radio station that was in the building. Brian would have rather have been at home talking to you- it had been four days since you arrived back on earth and he still hadn't seen you. He knew he would in a few days though- that kept him going. "Well we better head on through for this interview!" Roger clapped his hands together and they all made their way into the booth.

"The whole reason I requested to come home early was to see Brian and you're bloody forcing me to do this stupid interview! I don't see why I can't do it tomorrow or the day after! Plus I've already took part in an official press conference with my two teammates back in Germany! I don't want to do this!" You complained as the assistant the ESA had sent home with you, Jessica, walked you through the news studio. She picked you up at the airport and explained that the BBC had asked for you to do an interview- that it would only take a half hour. You even had to wear your bright blue, patch covered astronaut jumpsuit that made you stand out like a sore thumb. "Can I just go home?" She sent you a sympathetic look and shook her head no. You groaned "Fine! Half an hour and then I'm done for the day- I'm going home. Finally." You walked along endless corridors and tightly smiled as people clapped as you entered the studio. You shook hands with the presenter and sat down on the couch. 'Half an hour' you said to yourself 'Half an hour and you'll be on your way home to Brian.'

Jessica had left you to see out the interview on your own. You had barely made yourself comfortable on the seat when you flinched hearing the presenters voice loudly boom. "Today we have the remarkable astronaut and flight engineer, Y/N Y/L/N who managed to safely return to earth despite a breach in the Soyuz capsule she was in with two other crew mates." He turned to you with a wide, almost forced, smile. "You saved their lives!"

"I was just doing my job..." you softly replied. You didn't like everyone calling you a hero- you were only doing what you had to do. The reporter said you were too humble but you were so exhausted you didn't argue back. They asked you about space, what it was like and what you got up to while you were on the station. They then asked you what it was like being in such a near death experience. You hadn't answered that question before, only because you hadn't been asked it before. The official press conference you had to attend with the two others mainly focused on what went wrong. No one has asked you to discuss the fine line you experienced between life and death. You forced a smile "You know, the view you see from up there is unprecedented. Unlike anything you could possibly imagine." You avoided his question slightly. "There's slabs of ice bigger than some countries, the seas are so much bluer than you think and sand looks like molten gold." You stared off into the distance "It's only then you realise how important your world really is...how significant he is...even though he never thinks so." You were whispering towards the end, a tear streaming down your face. You blinked out of your Brian induced trance. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

Brian fidgeted with the earphones as he tried to get them on over his hair. He let out an irritated sigh and shut his eyes for a moment. He heard your voice in his head and smiled. When he opened his eyes, he still heard it. At first Brian thought he was dreaming seeing you on the tv just outside the radio booth. "Is...is that live?" He asked pointing at the tv.

The radio talk show host nodded "Yeah! They film just down the hall actu- where are you going?!" He screamed when Brian ran out. The boys called after Brian before eventually trying to catch up with him. Brian ignored them and burst into the studio, earning some strange looks from the floor staff. You were still too engrossed answering questions to notice.

The presenter asked why you chose a Queen song. "Well I thought 'Don't stop me now' was quite fitting- plus I was being a supportive girlfriend," you lowly laughed. The presenter intently narrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You see-" you began and glanced up just enough to see a tall, curly haired man with tears streaming down his cheeks staring at you. Tears welled in your eyes and you subtly pinched your thigh to make sure that you hadn't died on the way back home and that you weren't in your version of heaven. "Brian...?"

"Y/N!" His smile spread from ear to ear. You were real. You were right in front of him. The presenter shot his producer a glance and they just shrugged their shoulders. You stood up and walked towards him- completely forgetting the interview. You chest was heaving and you broke down when you reached him and his loving embrace. "I thought I'd never get to hold you again," he sobbed into your hair and held you against him so tight that his arms we're getting sore- he didn't care, he was just happy to have you in them.

"I promised you." You pulled back with glossy, red eyes and a smile. "I promised." You cupped his cheek before he leaned forward to kiss you. A kiss that was broadcasted to the rest of the nation. "Um," you cleared your throat and then realised that you were still in the middle of an interview. "I uh..." you found the camera on you both "I really missed him." The people in the studio started laughing and then began clapping you both, Brian held you against him as your cheeks flushed bright red. He softly tapped your arm and silently motioned you to go back and finish your interview. You hated leaving his warm embrace, but you knew as soon as the interview was over you'd get to hug him for as long as you wanted. "I'm sorry about that," you sheepishly smiled at the presenter who's mouth was wide open with shock. "I haven't seen him in so long!" You ecstatically grinned and looked over to Brian again who was crying with joy. "Almost dying has made me release how much I want to live my life with him." Brian quietly choked on a sob at your words.

The presenter snapped back into reality. "I...I understand," he lowly chuckled "It's just come as a surprise to myself and everyone else that you're with the guitarist of Queen."

"And astrophysicist!" You added and glanced over to Brian "Although he asks me far too many questions on the subject and just because I'm an astronaut doesn't mean I know everything about it!" You giggled "Cosmology is more my area."

"I'm sure dinner parties with the two of you are thrilling!" The presenter joked. "Brian!" He called him over "Join us." You scooted over a little and as soon as he sat down next to you, you grabbed his hand and held onto each other tightly, sending one another a beaming smile. The presenter asked you both dozens of questions and you pair of you answered them with a a constant smile on your faces. He then asked you one final question before you left. "Now I heard that you were rumoured for a very interesting mission! Now after that incredible act of skill and bravery, NASA are sure to include you on the team for the next Apollo expedition!" Your smile faltered slightly. You hadn't told Brian that before you left you had been shortlisted for the next mission to the moon. You hadn't told anyone. When you arrived back- you had earned a spot. You could feel Brian's eyes burning into you, and the rest of the nation as they awaited an answer.

"Uh...I haven't actually heard anything so there's nothing more I can say about that! Thank you for having me...thank you for having us." You looked at Brian and softly squeezed his hand.

When it was clear to go you turned to Brian and gave him another kiss. "So when were you going to tell us you're dating a fucking astronaut, Brian?!" Roger shrieked. You and Brian both jumped and looked up to the band who were looking at you both with wide eyes.

Brian gave you all his attention and smiled before properly introducing you. "Well...guys this is Y/N." You stood up and shook their hands. "I didn't want to tell you all until she came ba-" he hesitated for a second before he realised that you were standing beside him. That you were okay. That you were safe here on earth with him. "Until she came back." He managed to finish. "We've been together for a while, but I knew if I told you all about her before she left, all you would do is talk about her and I'd miss her even more than I already did." They hummed understandingly and asked you millions of questions until it dawned on them they still had a radio interview to do. "You want to come with us? Shouldn't take too long and we can go home right after." You were happy to hang around until he was finished. "Plus I don't want to let you out of my sight." He added with a laugh and pulled you in for a hug. "When do you leave?" Brian whispered into your ear, you could hear the sad undertone in his voice. Of course he'd know that you were going despite saying what you said to the presenter.

You pulled back a little and sent him a thin smile "Five years. We have lots of time together before-"

"Before you leave for the moon." He said, sounding a little more amused. "I'm proud of you, my supersonic woman." He kissed you again with a wide grin on his face. Brian took a deep breath and cupped your cheeks. "Just...don't almost die, alright?"

You nodded, giving him another kiss. It felt like he was taking you out of this world every time his lips were on yours. "I promise."

———————–————

Tags- (Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be tagged or not or if I've forgotten to tag you!) @rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @mespetitestortues @trickster-may @xtrashmammalstefx @the-garnet-rain @makapaka11 @killerqueenbucky @hodgepodge-of-rog @fredthelegend @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @bowiequeen @princessleiaqueen @okdeaky @mizzallfandomz @fangirlofeverythingme @ellee677 @the-killer-queenie @bucket-of-kittens @jamiethewallflower @rogernroll @queen-irl-af @freddie-malek @deakysgirl @little-miss-queenie

[hookedontaronfics]

Aber Girl series - Friday

Title: Aber Girl - Friday Part 1 of 3 Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Cursing and alcohol use A/N: Could one weekend really change a heart? A Triple Shot [3-part] series. Plenty of cute fluffy Taron to come in Parts 2 and 3. I hope you enjoy! x

“Morgan!” I jumped at the sound of my name being yelled across the bookstore, nearly dropping the book I had in my hand. I quickly put it on the shelf where it belonged before clambering down the stepladder I’d been standing on.

“Yeah, what do you need?” I asked a bit tersely as I crossed the shop floor, picking up a couple books customers had abandoned. Really, why couldn’t my boss walk across the store and speak to me in a normal voice? It irritated me to no end.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, looking a bit frazzled behind the boxes she was unloading. Fridays were our normal shipment days, and we’d been bombarded with merchandise for the holidays, which were fast approaching.

“I was just in the poetry department, you know, getting lit,” I replied. Okay, maybe I should have been slightly less sarcastic to my boss, but she didn’t even seem to notice or appreciate my amazingly witty pun. I made a mental note to Tweet that out later.

“When you’re done with that, I could really use your help upstairs in secondhand,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face. “And don’t forget I’m leaving early, so you’ll be closing up shop by yourself tonight.”

“Yeah, no skin off my elbow,” I said cheekily. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before. I returned to my work, shelving, organizing and straightening books, trying to make the store look as welcoming and shoppable as possible. Despite the busy-work nature of the job, I actually did enjoy being surrounded by books all day. I helped the few customers that filtered in, mostly college kids and families, find what they were looking for, and once my boss left I had the place to myself.

The last two hours of my shift dragged on a bit, and I ended up spending some time just surfing the internet, daydreaming about moving to Cardiff. Or London. Or even further away. Don’t get me wrong, growing up in Aberystwyth had its perks. Sure, the town was small, but it was also pretty. We had the mountains to our north and the coast right in front of us. You could take the Cliff Railway all the way up the hillside and it gave the best views of the area. I’d spent many a summer evening there with my mates and a 6-pack. I loved the place, but I saw very little opportunity here. Even after I’d enrolled in classes at the uni and earned my degree, I felt stuck in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach. Working at Ystywth Books for the rest of my life wasn’t the plan I had in mind.

About 10 minutes before close, I was finishing my duties since no one else was in the store when the bell above the door dinged. A blast of cold air blew in, making me instantly shiver despite the sweater I was wearing over my jumper and winter tights. I only saw the back of the person who walked in, as they disappeared around a bookshelf corner quickly. “I’m closing in a few minutes!” I hollered out, hoping they wouldn’t be obnoxious about it. I’d already had plans to meet up with some mates at the pub just after my shift.

“I’ll only be a minute,” the voice called back, cheerily enough. Hmmm, mostly British, slightly Welsh. Likely someone who used to live here and was visiting, I thought to myself. We had a lot of international students at the university, so I always tried to make it a game of guessing their nationality based on their accent.

I grabbed a stack of books off the counter to reshelve, since I now had to occupy my time for a couple more minutes, popping into different sections and moving about the store with ease. I could have probably walked this floor blindfolded, and in an admittedly stupid effort to prove it to myself, I closed my eyes and swung around a corner, running smack into the customer, who shouted “Hey!” and then “Are you alright?” after I’d tripped and then tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, my books flying every which way.

“Yeah,” I grunted, wincing slightly as there was a sharp pain in my arm. “Shit,” I breathed out, gripping my arm to my chest and only noticing the customer’s nice shoes and tight jeans. To my credit, I was in a lot of pain.

“That… doesn’t look like okay,” he said, crouching down to eye level with me. I nearly laughed as I wondered how he hadn’t split his pants just now, but then I had to squeeze my eyes shut as a groan of pain escaped my lungs. My arm was already throbbing, and I was trying to ignore the tears that had sprung into the corners of my eyes.

“Fuck, you’re hurt. I’ll call the medics,” he said, pulling out his phone to do so.

“I can’t bloody afford that,” I cursed, finally looking up at him and sucking in my breath sharply. My customer was none other than Taron Egerton, the so-called town “hero.” I was a couple of years younger, but my brother had been in Taron’s class and all I’d heard my whole entire life was how amazing he was, how he was “going places.” He’d managed to get out of Aber and build a successful career for himself and left the rest of us behind, and it annoyed me to no end that everyone constantly fell all over themselves for him. He was decent-looking enough, but I’d seen better. Not only that, he hadn’t made a name for himself in Aber, or for that matter stayed here and tried to help anyone else. How honestly special could you be if you’d fled to the big city and not ever looked back?

“I’ve still got two legs that work. I’ll just walk,” I said pragmatically, dropping my eyes back to his shoelaces in case he got the wrong idea.

“Are you kidding me? You’re clearly hurt, it’s feezing and snowing out, and I can’t in good conscience let you do that,” he replied, a bit self-righteously if you ask me. What was he trying to do, be my hero? As if it wasn’t good enough to be the town’s? I didn’t need one, thank you very much, and if he hadn’t walked in 10 minutes before close this whole situation probably wouldn’t even be happening. I was hurting, annoyed and still needing to close the store.

“Fine then, call me a cab,” I said, awkwardly pushing myself up to my feet with my good hand and steadying myself against the bookshelf, ignoring the hand he offered to help. I tugged my sleeve up a bit and my eyes watered some more as I noticed the bruising already starting to show. I hastily wiped at my face and sniffed. I was not about the cry in front of this guy.

“I’ll drive you myself,” he replied, concern written all over his stupid face. I groaned inwardly at that, but I knew I couldn’t ignore my arm. I needed a doctor, and I didn’t have a car myself, usually just borrowing my parents’ when I needed to go somewhere long-distance.

“Fine, but you’ll have to wait a moment while I close the store,” I conceded, whatever he’d come in to get clearly forgotten. He annoyingly tailed me around the store, trying to help and mostly getting in my way. I counted out the drawer money as best I could, closed the accounting books, and made sure all the lights were off and the place secured.

I had to drape my winter coat around my shoulder, as my arm was too hurt to try and wrangle it into the sleeve, and after trying to one-handedly zip it up around myself, I finally acquiesced to Taron’s help, standing there awkwardly as he carefully zipped my coat up to my neck. I followed him out into the swirling night, locking the door behind me as snowflakes landed on my eyelashes and cheeks. It was a bitterly cold evening as we crunched across the parking lot to his car. At least it was still warm inside as I awkwardly fell into the seat. I didn’t bother with the seatbelt, as we weren’t actually going that far.

He drove me over to Bronglais General, being careful as the roads were already coated. I noted that he’d been listening to Bowie, and at least I could appreciate his musical taste. But that was only one point toward his favor in a long list against. He parked and we hustled inside, shaking the snow from our hair and clothes. I got checked in and had a small wait, so I took a seat in the lobby, and much to my chagrin, Taron sat down next to me.

“You don’t need to stay here with me. I’m sure you’ve better things to do,” I said, as I slowly tapped out a text to my friends that I was going to be a bit late to the pub.

“I remember you,” he said quietly, and I didn’t respond for a moment. If that was supposed to impress me, well, it really didn’t. “You’re Declan’s younger sister,” he pressed on. Dammit if he wasn’t persistent, but that still didn’t earn him any points.

“Yeah, it’s Morgan, and what you and your mates did to my brother, it’s not been forgotten, okay?” I replied angrily, not even sure where the sudden heat in my face had come from. “And I don’t need your help.”

He hung his head a bit, but I had zero sympathy. “That was a long time ago. And I’ve apologized to him, a lot,” he replied, his ears growing a bit red.

“You may have the whole world eating out of the palm of your hand, but I’m not one of them,” I said in a huff. Thankfully, my name was called just then. I stood up abruptly and turned to him. “Please don’t be here when I come back,” I added before stalking off after the nurse, ignoring the pained look on his face. Thinking about Taron as anyone other than the person who had helped bully my brother out of the theater would get me into nothing but a world of hurt.

The hospital staff was nothing but kind as they took my vitals, ushered me through X-rays and did their best to not keep me waiting unnecessarily. I had indeed broken my arm, although it was a clean break and I was relieved that I wouldn’t need surgery, as this visit alone was going to drain the meager savings I had in my bank account. Once my arm was bound in the cast and a sling, the nurse helped me back into my coat [believe me, this was an embarrassing thing] and I returned to the lobby. 

I was half-worried Taron would still be waiting there, his puppy-dog eyes trying to draw sympathy from me, but the lobby was empty of his presence. That somehow didn’t actually make me feel any better, and I worried for a moment that I had been a complete arse to him when all he’d done was try to help me earlier, but I quickly shoved that feeling down deep.

I called myself a cab and waited impatiently, hopping from one foot to the next in an attempt to distract myself from both the dull ache in my arm and the pain in my chest that running into Taron had reawakened. It was possible, in that moment, that maybe I even hated him a little bit. A little sister shouldn’t have to be the one consoling her older brother or reminding him that there was more to the world than Penglais. My phone dinged to let me know my cab had arrived, and I rushed back out into the cold, ready to get to the pub and drown my sorrows with my friends and a hefty draught.

The snow had let up a bit, and I had to admit it was actually quite pretty out, the light cast from the streetlamps making the untouched snow glitter. I never said Aber didn’t have its moments. I paid my fare and hustled inside when the taxi pulled up outside Kanes, happily taking the seat my mates had saved for me. The table was already littered with half-gone appetizers, and I helped myself to them after ordering a beer.

“I see your klutz streak strikes again,” Andreyah teased me as I shed my coat. We’d known each other since we were both in nappies, and had lived on the same block most of our lives. In fact, Andreyah had gotten me through most of the scrapes - physical and otherwise - in my life, and there had been many. Everyone else at the table, Cliff, June, Rosie and Ace, had come into my life at various points and for various reasons, but we’d all ended up at uni together and were inseparable now.

“What even happened?” Rosie asked curiously.

“I haven’t had enough alcohol for this one yet,” I laughed, taking a long and impressive draft of my beer, Cliff whistling in admiration until I flipped him off.

“Always classy,” June grinned as I slammed my half-empty glass on the table, the beer sloshing against the sides.

I took a deep breath, gathered up the edges of my courage, and blurted out “I ran into Taron,” not even needing to say his last name for my mates to know exactly who I was talking about. Two of them sighed adoringly (much to my annoyance), three of them sounded indignant on my behalf. “Like, quite literally. He came into the store and I tripped over his stupid feet,” I explained, leaving out the part where I’d been doing something incredibly dumb in the process. “It’s been a shitty night so far.”

“I’d expect no less from him,” Ace said, nearly spitting out the last word. He had known my brother well too. In fact, most of the families in Aber knew each other or were at least friendly in passing.

“But I’m sure it was just an accident,” Rosie replied, being both more logical and also more sympathetic to Taron’s cause. We’d long ago agreed to disagree on that one.

“Oh of course, but he tried to help me by mostly getting in my way and even acted like it was a big deal that he remembered who I was,” I said, rolling my eyes and feeling the alcohol start to hit me, lowering my inhibitions. “What a serious wanker.”

My mates started to debate this, offering both their support of me [that’s true friendship, right there] or their insistence that Taron wasn’t as awful as I believed him to be. Eventually the conversation drifted to other topics, and we ate and drank more and I ended up having a great time. Nothing a little group therapy couldn’t fix, I thought. It helped take the edge off my emotions over the evening, but eventually I had to call it a night, as I had an early bookstore shift the next morning.

Hugs ensued, Andreyah helped me back into my winter coat [seriously, this was beginning to make me feel like a toddler], and then offered to drive me home. I could have walked from there and had plenty of times before, but it had gotten even colder while we were in the pub so I didn’t turn her down.

“So really, tell me what actually happened,” she said as soon as we were safely tucked into her little Fiesta.

“That was mostly the truth!” I laughed indignantly, but filled her in on other details I hadn’t shared with the group. She listened quietly, letting me rant a bit.

“Aren’t you being a little ... unfair?” she asked as she pulled into the driveway.

“Are you kidding me?” I scoffed, but she fixed me with that trademark pout she used when I was being unreasonable.

“He was 15, Mori,” she said, using the nickname she’d given to me when we could barely even put three words together. “People change. You have to allow them that.” I snorted, but she continued talking. “From what you said, it sounds like he’s been trying to make amends. Maybe you should talk to your brother. Maybe you’re holding onto anger Declan’s long already let go of.”

“You know, sometimes you make way too much sense and it really pisses me off,” I huffed, just making her laugh.

“Oh Mori. I love you, but you’re stubborn as hell. Maybe let it go a little, yeah? What would be the harm?” she asked, watching me as I pressed my fingers against my temple and then rubbed them over my eyes.

“Yeah I’ll think about it,” I said, fully intending to not give Taron a second more of my time.

“Hey, get some sleep, alright? I’ll bring you a coffee tomorrow while you’re at work,” she grinned.

“You are a saint and a scholar,” I grinned back. We gave each other an awkward car hug before I got out, shut the door and waved to her obnoxiously until I got to the front door. I let myself in and found my mom and dad had already gone to sleep, which was just fine with me. I was too tired and sore to try and explain everything that night. I went to my room and got myself ready for bed before crawling in under the covers.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but my brain kept insisting that I run over the events of the day. I tossed and turned a bit, but every time I opened my eyes, I could see Taron’s wounded expression in the shadows. Try as I might to avoid it, he’d gotten under my skin again, and I was confused by the emotions I was feeling. I hated admitting maybe Andreyah was right. I’d been so young back then, we all had been, and I had only ever gotten Declan’s version of events. The truth of that made my face flush with shame, but old grudges tend to die hard. Finally exhausted by my work shift, my injury and my upsetting emotions, I drifted off into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

Aber Girl continues on Saturday! Coming Soon

[supposed2bfunny]

At Times it is Sweet

Birthday fic for Russel!!!

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, depression, violence, character depth, the usual Russel stuff. Feel free to ask me to tag anything!

Brooklyn, 1980

The sound of ten feet slapping their way over the creaky floors of the Hobbs’s railroad apartment is nearly deafening. Typically he’d be in a lot of trouble for running in the house, but Russel is pleased to find that he and his four friends are off the hook since it’s his birthday.

“Red Power Ranger go!” he shouts, whipping around the corner, hurtling himself down the basement steps into the den, which is family reverently refers to as the ‘Music Room’ due to the keyboard, the several guitars hung up on the wall, and his father’s beloved collection of vinyl, complete with his 1967 Pioneer that still plays as smoothly as it did when his father was a boy.

“Green Power Ranger, go!”

“Blue Power Ranger, go!”

“Black Power Ranger, go!”

“Silver Power Ranger, go!”

His friends traipse down the stairs after him, and Russel sets his juice box down on the coffee table to assess the room for any bad guys, any imminent danger that they’ll have to fight using their powers, just like in the show.

“Russel,” his mother’s voice comes downstairs. “Daddy doesn’t want you down there with your friends. Come upstairs and we can do cake!”

His friends look at him, torn between the desire to stay in the cool basement, to admire the vintage band posters and shiny instruments, and the desire to go upstairs and imbibe more sugar.

Not one to disrespect his mother, Russel nods. “Okay, guys, we can go back upstairs. But later we have to check the backyard to make sure there aren’t any bad guys.”

Again the apartment is filled with the cacophony of tiny feet on wooden stairs, and as he makes his way up, Russel glances over his shoulder at the Hi-C juice box sitting on the table without a coaster.

His lone act of defiance, he thinks, filling a thrill. Five is going to be a good year.

Brooklyn, 1992

“Okay, big boy, I need you to keep those eyes shut tight and take a bite of this and tell me what you taste.” The excitement in Del’s smooth voice is palpable, and it brushes up against the underside of Russel’s nerves in the most delicious way.

He obeys his friend’s orders, keeping his eyes closed as he takes a forkful of whatever Del has placed in front of him. They’re in a diner, so, vast though the menu may be, he’s fairly certain that whatever he’s about to taste is in fact food, and not some sick trick that his prankster of a friend has concocted.

He always gives Del the benefit of the doubt.

Even though they’re currently all the way under the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, somewhere in south Williamsburg where there seem to be more bars than streetlamps and more drunken, stumbling college students than bars. Every few minutes the sound of a taxi can be heard blaring as someone stumbles out into the crosswalk without looking both ways.

It’s bustling and messy and not at all Russel’s scene. But hey, this diner is playing some Curtis Mayfield, so it’s not all bad. The fries were nothing great, sure, but he enjoyed his turkey club and Del shared his fried shrimp basket. And Del has laughed—not chuckled, but full-body, shoulders back, head heavenfacing, knees wobbling apart as he shakes with mirth laughed—three whole times in the course of the meal.

So he’ll do whatever Del wants to keep the night rolling.

He opens his mouth and it’s soft and sweet and creamy.

“Mm.”

“You taste that, Russ?”

“Yeah,” he says around a tongueful of icing.

“You know what that is?”

“Cake?”

“No shit, Sherlock, really taste it.”

“Mm. Oh! This is,” Russel opens his eyes, just a tad surprised to find Del’s eyes immediately locking on his own, intense and somehow feeling closer than a plastic table apart.

“Real buttercream icing!” he practically shouts. Del has a tendency to shout in diners. He has a tendency to shout most of the time. “It’s not that Crisco shit you get at most places, baby! My buddy works at a print shop in Williamsburg, and he comes around here sometimes after hitting up the bars on weekends. He told me the owner’s wife, she makes these cakes herself every day. That’s homemade, only diner left in Brooklyn that can still claim that!”

Russel is having a hard time swallowing while laughing, but he finally manages. “You’re unbelievable. I can’t believe you dragged me all the way out here for this.”

Del raises a brow. “You saying it’s not delicious?”

Something about the way he tilts his head to look at Russel through his eyelashes, at the way he brushes his dreads back off his broad shoulders as he speaks, something about the way Del’s personality radiates from their cramped booth into every crevice of the sleepy diner makes Russel’s chest constrict slightly in that moment.

“It’s the best cake I’ve ever had,” he says earnestly.

And Del is smiling again, drumming his fists on the table in glee. “Should I order some milk, birthday boy?”

Essex, 1997

When Murdoc passes him the blunt, he takes a hit without hesitation, only to find his eyes watering and his lungs burning as though he just inhaled a mouthful of acetone.

“The fuck is that?” he coughs and his head swims, oh, does his head swim.

Murdoc cackles. “Mate, I don’t ask questions, I just tell my guy to give me whatever the kids are smoking these days. Y’know, when I was a lad, weed was weed. They didn’t mix any synthetic shit in there, and it mellowed you out good.”

“When you were a lad?” Paula scoffs, plopping down into 2D’s lap, a beer in each hand, “when was that, the 1920s?”

“You should talk, Cracker,” he snaps, leering at her. “Your tits are sagging like you’ve already nursed a few tykes.”

“Hey, hey,” 2D wraps a protective arm around Paula’s waist, taking the beer she offers him and knocking back half the bottle in a gulp. “Eyes off my girlfriend, Murdoc. Paula, don’t pick on Muds, okay?”

She snorts and Murdoc grunts, putting his boots up on the coffee table, legs crossed daintily at the ankle.

“So you’re not going to get high with me, Russ. Well, what can we do then to make it a good day for you?”

Despite Murdoc’s less than enthusiastic tone, Russel is secretly touched that all three of his bandmates have made such a fuss about him today. He’s never been good at running the show though, and he doesn’t really have any wild expectations. England still doesn’t feel like home to him, and compared to the proximity of Brooklyn and Manhattan, getting to the bustle of London from Essex feels like a voyage that his friends’ attention spans simply couldn’t hold up to.

Clubbing! Del’s voice suggests somewhere in the back of his mind. See what kind of dance music these tea-drinking limeys like so we can toss it into the album!

“Honestly, just having drinks with you all is enough for me,” he answers demurely, and he can feel Del deflate in his brain. It’s fine; as soon as the conversation shifts, his ghostly friend’s voice will be there again. Del can never stay silent for long. “Okay, actually, here’s my birthday wish: I think we should play ‘It’s Coming On’” at the gig we have this Friday.”

“Absolutely not,” Murdoc snaps. “Can’t you just ask to go to a club or something instead?”

“Why not?” Paula challenges the bassist instantly, and 2D’s brows furrow together and he reaches over his girlfriend’s lap for the painkillers he always keeps nearby. “It’s a good song, it’s not too hard to play. We’ve got most of the lyrics ironed out.”

“Because a major component of the song is Russel’s haunted head! We don’t know how to control when he pops out: what if we go to play and he doesn’t show up? That’s two minutes faceache’ll have to improvise, and the kid can’t even tie his shoe laces.”

“Your fault,” the singer mumbles around a few pills, though he doesn’t look Murdoc in the eye when he says it.

“Del will come out,” Russel says firmly. He can feel rather than hear the excitement bubbling in the corners of his mind. Del is pleased. “He pops out at random sometimes, sure, but he’s never not come up during rehearsal when we need him. We go out on a stage, I guarantee he’ll be there to drop bars so hot your ears’ll burn.”

“Not sure that sounds the least bit pleasant,” Murdoc replies. “Gotta work on your pitch, big boy.”

“Here’s a thought though,” Paula cuts in, “what if Ghost Man pops out and we can’t get him to er, go back in? We’ll have no drummer for the rest of the show.”

“We could end with the song.”

“That’s still banking on him coming out when we need him to,” Murdoc insists. “If he doesn’t show, our grand finally looks rubbish. Russel, you’re great, and your spiritual possession makes you a bloody amazing musician, mate. Plus, I love the aesthetic of having a haunted bloke in my band, really. But it’s my band. I’m not jeopardizing our first gig that isn’t pure shit to satisfy your ego trip.”

“What if we can learn to control Del before the gig?” 2D asks.

“Who?”

“Del,” Russel repeats. “It’s his name. I’ve told you this, Murdoc. And 2D’s got a point. What if we can figure out to how control his comings and goings before the gig, would you give it a shot then? I really think ‘Coming On’ is one of the strongest songs we’ve got right now.”

Murdoc takes another hit, and, having tasted and felt what he’s smoking, it distresses Russel just slightly how his eyes don’t water the least bit, how completely unaffected he seems by the powerful stuff. “Might be worth a shot…”

“Then I can play the melodica!” 2D pipes up happily, jostling Paula slightly.

She slides off his lap to sit beside him. “One week for the four of us to tame a ghost. Brill.”

Beaming, Russel reaches for another beer. Trying to hack his own mysterious possession can wait until he’s a little more tipsy.

“Oi, a toast to the birthday boy!” 2D says, leaning forward and holding up his bottle.

“To Russel!” Paula agrees cheerfully.

“To the bloody best drummer in all of Essex!” Murdoc croaks, holding up his half-drunk bottle of whiskey.

“And hey, to the band,” Russel says, clinking his bottle against three more. “The future is coming on!”

“Ha! Good one Russ,” 2D beams.

Murdoc finds the joke so hilarious that he collapses back into his chair in a fit of giggles. Maybe he’s feeling the effects of all that weed after all.

Pacific Ocean, 2010

He doesn’t think much anymore. It’s not a sharp pain like when his hand split open on glass after Del was shot to death in his car. It’s more of a prickly presence, like sunburn.

Burning. His skin is probably burning in the sun. He could go underwater to hide from the sun; the water is cool and inviting as he floats along on his back. Then he won’t burn.

But it’s so dark below the surface, and if he can’t see, and if sound is muffled by water in his ears, and if every inch of his skin is covered in the same film of saltwater carrying him somewhere south of Argentina, somewhere light pollution ceases to be a concern, somewhere land ceases to be, then what will he feel?

And if he can’t feel, he might have to think.

No, today he will not die. Because a seagull found him where he was hiding in the United States, rotting himself from the inside out on sleepers, and the bird told him that Noodle was alive, that he just had to jump into the ocean, and he could save her.

No sign of Noodle, but that doesn’t mean he won’t run into her. Perhaps she’ll be floating along, sunburned and sleepy too.

He doesn’t think much, so he tries to focus on feeling. In the past day or so, he has begun to go numb save for the sensation of heat on his skin and water on his back. Instead of swallowing saltwater until he sinks to the bottom, he decides to focus on how he feels inside rather than outside, and comes up blank.

He is not sad. Noodle is alive, the seagull told him so, so the grief he’d felt in his body for months and months is pointless. He is not happy. That’s nothing new. He can’t remember what that feels like and it is far too much effort to search for that memory. He is not angry.

Well.

Anger could be a word to describe what he feels about Murdoc disappearing, only to pop up on Twitter talking about making a new album without him. That’s a sting, sure, something blackish red behind his eyes when he closes them, but since anger, and none of these feelings, have any outlets, so he tries to let them go. So much for passing the time.

Something rumbles, and his white eyes scan the sky for clouds, finding none.

Ah. He is hungry. That’s his stomach.

It’s been a lot of days since he’s eaten. It was just before Memorial Day when he jumped into the water, and back in the good old US of A, millions of families have no doubt already had their barbeques. He tries to remember the smell of charcoal, of boiled corn and hamburgers.

It makes his stomach hurt.

His birthday has probably passed, he realizes. Not that it matters. It just would have been nice to have had some company to acknowledge it to. He used to enjoy this time of year, the beginning of summer, the greenification of the earth as bushes and trees and flowers all turned verdant. It had once made him feel hopeful, alive.

But that’s right: he’s already estimated that he’s way down the southern hemisphere. It’s winter here, not summer. He smiles bitterly, and something akin to a laugh shoots out of this throat. It’s an ugly, horrible sound, and with only the slosh of the waves, it reverberates in his head for hours.

Detroit, 2019

“Sit down here, Russel,” Noodle instructs, pointing to the plush recliner in the Spirit House. She’s practically skipping with excitement, one of those ridiculous pointed birthday hats on her head. “We’re going to do presents soon!”

Cigar in mouth, Russel obeys, chuckling as she almost slams into Ace as he makes his way out of the kitchen, sporting a matching hat and a pair of pink oven mitts. “What happened to the candles I bought?” he asks, looking panicked. “We gotta do cake before we do presents, and I can’t find the candles anywhere! I left them right on the counter in the kitchen next to Dee’s Buddha statue and now they’re gone—”

“Don’t get you knickers in a twist,” Murdoc cuts him off, striding into the room in his hole-filled striped sweater and grey skinny jeans. He places a small packet in one of Ace’s mitted hands. “Here you go. Found them by the stovetop; someone must’ve moved them.”

“Thanks boss,” the taller man responds, sounding relieved.

Russel puts his feet up on the ottoman, catches Noodle giving Murdoc a suspicious look before snatching the packet from Ace. “These are prank candles, Murdoc. The kind that won’t go out.”

“Actually they’re essentially sparklers,” the bassist replies with a guilty shrug. “Thought it’d be funny.”

Noodle smacks Murdoc’s arm and storms off with her confiscated candles, muttering to herself in Japanese. Russel puffs at his cigar and tries to hide his smile: with the addition of Ace, their home has become even more chaotic, but it’s highly entertaining. Before he can catch whether or not Murdoc is going to reveal what he did with the candles Ace bought, 2D enters the living room with a large purple bag and plops down on the couch nearest to the recliner.

“Proper Cuban, that?” he asks, pointing to the smoke.

“You know it, Dee. Nothing but the finest. Want a puff?”

“No thanks. Trying to stick to the vape as often as possible. It’s easier on the lungs than cigarettes and such.”

“Well technically you’re not supposed to hold the cigar smoke in your lungs, Dee.”

“I understand that,” he replies, fiddling with the ribbons on the gift bag, “but I don’t trust myself not to do that. So Russ, really, is there anything else that we can do to make this birthday perfect for you? I feel like this is so…simple.”

The drummer smiles, crosses his legs at the ankles. “I’ve seen the way rockstars party. It isn’t for me. I’m being completely sincere when I tell you that all I want, truly, all I want, is to spend time with my family. Some drinks, some good food, that’s it.”

He doesn’t bother telling 2D that this is the first birthday in years that he didn’t wake up in bed feeling paralyzed with anxiety. Or that he has dreamt of windmills falling out of skies and green ocean waves and tasted saltwater so many times that the sound of Murdoc and Ace arguing is welcome relief. It seems pointless to tell 2D that he’s had a Bob Marley song stuck in his head all morning. Or that he plugged in his old iPod today, the one he hasn’t touched since 2005, to remember some of the jams he used to work out to in the mornings when Kong was still his home.

“Russ, as long as that’s what you want, we’re all happy to celebrate like this with you,” the singer promises with a smile, placing a hand on Russel’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Thanks. Forty-four, man, big year. I got big plans ahead.”

“Oh really? You thinking music-wise, or something else?”

Russel’s smile widens and he leans in a little closer. 2D will be the first person to hear him confide his newest and most ambitious goal yet. “I’m thinking a foundation,” he admits. “Starting one myself. A non-profit to bring music to disadvantaged youth. I’ve got some friends who’ve worked for non-profits before who said they can help me get if off the ground.”

“Russ that’s huge!” 2D gasps, slapping the arm of the couch in excitement. “We’ll help too! With funding, with travel, Muds can probably help connect us to some producers who might know others who can help out!”

“I was planning on asking you all for help today. That’s my big birthday request, my next goal in life.”

The singer smiled and pointed to the bag on his lap. “You’ll still want the dress I got you too though, right? Very pretty, my mum helped me pick it out.”

He eyes the bag eagerly, suddenly wanting very much to start presents soon even though he had told himself earlier that day that he didn’t need anything more material in this world. “I’ll…I’ll still take the dress, yeah. Thanks buddy.”

“Cake time!” Ace crows, making his way out, carrying a very large, impressive cake on a try, candles alight on top. True to Ace’s perfectionist nature, the cake is one of the most beautiful things Russel has ever seen that wasn’t commissioned by a professional baker. Blue and purple icing create cloudlike flowers, and the top of the cake looks like a bass drum with Russel’s name etched across it in script. “Hey boss, get your ass inside, you can smoke later! Time for happy birthday!”

“Wait till you try this,” Noodle says, leaning in to hug Russel tight as Ace sets the cake down on the coffee table and Murdoc rushes in from his smoke break in the backyard. “Ace is a great baker. Real buttercream icing. Like nothing you’ve ever tasted!”

She goes to pull back, but he pulls her into one last hug, hearing 2D “awww” beside him.

“Thanks for gathering the troops,” he tells her.

“Russel, we’re family,” she replies. “It’s our pleasure to be here with you today. To celebrate.”

“Well then,” the drummer sets his cigar down in an ashtray and leans in to blow out the candles. “Let’s celebrate.”

[petersshirts]

To New Beginnings ||Part 1 || tom holland

Summary: it’s time to settle down and when your best friend asks you to have a child with him, how could you say no?

Words: 1757

A/N: Welcome to my second series! I’m not sure how many parts this will have, I will just go with the flow! please let me know what you think of the first part, thanks for reading, love ya x and if you’d like to be tagged on this series or just in general, feel free to send me an ask!

„What if we have a child together?“

„Are you serious?? We’re not even in relationship Tom, we’re just friends!“

„We’re best friends and I know you better than anyone else and I know that you want a baby as much as I do, so why don’t we just do it??“

_____________________________________________

Part 1

„What if we have a child together?“ The words rushed out of Toms' mouth even before he could process them. His mouth just spoke out his thoughts and even if it was the weirdest thing he had ever said, he didn’t regret it at this point.

Because it was time for the two of you to settle down.

Tom had just turned 30 and you were 29 and the two of you had been best friends for ten years. In that time, you had seen lows and highs from your best friends and he went through all your relationships with you; when you fell in love and when you fell out of love.

But it had never been the right one.

And now, you were at a stage of life, where everyone around you started a life with their fiancee or husband, but you and Tom were still lonely. The only person you both had was each other. The two of you were the only ones that still talked about music, sports and movies. Everyone else was so wound up in their own lives, starting their own family.

And if you had to be honest, you wanted to start a family too. You desperately wanted a husband by your side who was holding your hand when you were giving birth and you wanted a house with a dog and a happy family. But the reality was different - you lived in a small flat just outside of London and you were a journalist for a big newspaper in the UK. You were working non - stop and you loved your job. But with you being always so busy, there was no place in your life for a man; Tom excluded.

But when Tom said those words, you were shocked. The two of you stood in front of a baby shop and you had been staring at the shop window for quite some time. And then the words came out of Toms' mouth. They didn’t make any sense to you in the first few moments because you had never connected your best friend with a romantic relationship.

It took a few seconds until you could answer him. You were sure that this was only a joke - but would Tom joke about this kind of stuff??

„Come on T, that isn’t funny. You know that I really want a kid, but we’re not in a relationship, we’re just friends!?“ You shook your head, not believing his words. He was joking, right?

Tom on the other side, started to like his idea. You had known each other for a very long time and when Tom was not working or with his family, he was with you. He knew you very good and all your flaws, so what was better than to get a child with a person you had spent a long time with? The two of you even used to live in a flat together and there had never been any fights.

„Y/N, we have been best friends for a very long time now and I know you better than anyone else does!! I know you want a baby as desperately as I do and I’m sure that you are my only chance of being a father! Please Y/N, think about it.“ Tom desperately stared at you, trying to read your mind.

You studied his desperate face and came back down to earth. He meant it.

It was not one of his little jokes that he made sometimes about getting married because there was no one else left on the market, he wanted to do this.

„Oh my god, you’re serious, You really want to do this.“ You muttered under your breath, completely overwhelmed with the situation. He was right, you wanted a child, but you were not sure if you could do this with Tom.

You knew that guy better than you knew yourself but you weren’t sure if you wanted to share every night and day with him for the next twenty years. What happened if there was a fight between you two or one of you found the love of your life?

Tom walked towards you and gave you a hug without saying anything. He looked up to you with a small smile that tried to convince you.

„Please think about it Y/N. Time is running out for us. Call me when you know the answer.“

And with that, he turned around and walked away, leaving you alone and completely speechless.

What the hell were you going to do??

__________________________________________________

„Wait, he said WHAT??“ your sister literally screamed into the phone, causing you to hold the phone as far away from you as possible.

„Okay, thanks for your condolence but I would like to still have my ear after this conversation. And yes, he said it and he really meant it. What should I do now??“ You muttered in your phone, begging for help.

Right after you got home, you called your big sister Mia. She lived in Scotland and was married with two kids, so you know that she would make the right decision, and that’s why you called her. You had no idea what to say to Tom.

You heard kids laughing in the background and smiled, hoping you would see your nephews soon.

„I have to be honest with you Y/N. Your 29 now, going on 30 and if you want a child, the best time is now. And even if you two are not a thing, you know each other so well, sometimes it’s a bit scary. Y/N, this is the only chance you will get, I don’t think that your prince charming will pop up in the next few weeks. I think you should do it.“

The line stayed silent for a few seconds because your thoughts were all over the place. Mia had a point and you know that. You just had never thought about getting a baby with your best friend. Even if it sounded weird, it wasn’t unrealistic. You knew how Tom reacted at any given moment and you never fought. You two could manage to raise a child, but how would the people around you act? It was a weird concept but you knew the answer. It was the chance you got and you had to take it by the horns.

„Hellooo? Y/N are you still there??“ Your sister asked confused, not sure if you hung up the phone or just stared into nothing like you always did.

You came back to your senses and shook your head. „Yeah, I’m still here. Sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts. You’re maybe right. Don’t you think that it’s weird to have a child when you’re not even together?“

Mia sighed. The two sisters had been very close since you were small and she always knew that you wanted a child. When you were around her kids, you were full of joy and she could leave you alone with them, never worrying about anything. She knew that you would be the best mom any kid could ask for. It didn’t matter who was by your side, even when she knew that Tom was the nicest guy friend you had that Mia had met.

Whenever Mia saw you, Tom was never far away. The two of you were glued to the hip but your sister knew that it was a healthy friendship. Tom would always protect you and would never leave you if you would get a baby. He was way too good to just go. Mia knew that he would do everything for his child.

„Y/N, Tom would do anything for you and your child. If he wouldn’t have thought this through, he would never have asked you. Talk about this with him, make plans. You’re a really good team, you know that.“

You nodded your head, understanding her opinion.

„Thanks for your help, Mia, I will think about it. Say hi to the three boys for me, will you? I will come to visit you soon!“ And with that, you hung up, lost in your own thoughts.

Now it was for you to decide. No one could take this decision from you, you were on your own if you really wanted to have a child with your best friend and not the love of your life that was most likely not to appear in the next few months. You had dated a lot of boys in the last few years but they were all not the one; yes, they were cute and nice, but they never ignited the fire in you that you so desperately wanted. You never had the wish to conceive a child with one of these guys and now you had the chance to fulfil your biggest wish, even when it was definitely not how you had imagined.

But you knew that Tom and you would be just fine.

And that’s why you grabbed your phone again and typed in the phone number that you called at least twice a day. You clicked on the call button, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. The phone ringed a few times until he finally answered.

„Hey Y/N.“ You smiled that he already knew who was on the other side. He sounded nervous and you felt the same way, about to take a huge step that would change your whole life.

„Tom, let’s do this.“

_________________________________________________

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