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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

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I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike Smut #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x F!reader #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #the mentalist #the mental illness is winning #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #Marcus Pike angst #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike The mentalist

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music-orthemisery · 24 days

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Pre-Folie Release Madness of (p)2- A Timeline

After spending a few days in cuckoo bananas world thanks to the video re: Patrick's best man speech, @grandtreeangel and I have some things to slide across the table.

Between October 19, 2008 and November 7th, 2008, FOB played a series of shows leading up to the release of Folie a Deux. Each show featured a Pete/Patrick banter moment that, when put together, creates a very...interesting narrative.

October 19th - Birmingham, England show

Pete making a Top Gun reference to the $20 bar bet scene while Patrick plays the Top Gun theme song.

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The scene in question: "Total carnal knowledge...of a woman this time, on the premises"

October 22nd - London, England show

First live performance of Patrick's "Love Lockdown" cover

Please see @grandtreeangel’s post HERE for more context on this totally normal thing Patrick did.

October 25th - Lille, France show

OG "my little cabbage" moment Pete, in French, says to Patrick, "You are beautiful, my little cabbage."

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October 27th OR 28th - Blog post

Pete posts this on his Tumblr . It says 10/27, but there's some disagreement on time zones so it may be 10/28. EITHER WAY...

Originally, this linked to a clip from the movie Love, Actually. In this scene, a man confesses his love to a woman who is married to his best friend.

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There's plenty of debate about this movie, scene, and storyline in general, but we aren't here for that right now!!!

Let's just focus on the facts:

Woman. Married. To BEST FRIEND.

The man was the best man AND the videographer at the wedding.

This whole moment is done secretly. He confesses, they kiss, she goes back inside and tells her husband it was just some carolers.

In general, this whole story arc is ripe with longing and unattainable love due to a marriage keeping the man from being with the woman.

I...wonder what this sounds like...

October 28th - Toronto, Canada show

Love Lockdown cover where Patrick says, "That's for you, Pete."

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Again, Patrick being very normal!!!

October 29th - Blog Post

Pete contributes an entry to Bill's "Mondayeyes" poetry club on friendsorenemies.com:

Credit to @alphadog's post for this HERE

The entire poem is quite impactful, but a few lines of interest:

"Where do you get off?" or more like "how"

and...

"You chose this"

When Pete uses quotes, it's noted that this indicates things that have been said to him.

There are scents and spells that keep us coming together, there are sparks that keep us forever

The art of keeping up disappearances

Also, big hello to some Rat-A-Tat lyrics

Whenever I could make the sweat roll backwards and your pulse stream in reverse

(Big thank you to @dykeandyhurley for sending this to me)

November 6th - Boston, MA show

Pete shares the story about Patrick's best man speech.

Huge props to @predoom for finding this moment!

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If you haven't seen Top Gun (?!), the context here is very important:

The line "Ice, fire, or clear," is said in the scene where Goose dies.

Scene: "Ice, Fire or Clear!"

Also, it should be noted that, to Pete, he is Goose and Patrick is Maverick.

The fact that Patrick picks this quote to say to Pete...in his best man speech...at PETE'S WEDDING. A quote said when Maverick LOSES Goose.

AND...apparently no one else in the reception quite...get's it. Pete is the only one who does. That line was just for Pete. From Patrick.

Of all the lines in that movie, he picks that one, from that moment.

Then, of course...

We have "The Kids Aren't Alright."

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Featuring the lyrics:

Stuck in the jet wash Bad trip I couldn't get off And maybe I bit off more than I could chew And overhead of the aqua blue

Along with Pete's annotation:

November 7th - Philadelphia, PA show

Patrick sings Lullabye.

Take a peek at this post for all of that mess.

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"Well, Bronx was about to be born!"

Sure, sure. I'm not DENYING the relevance there. Just. Go look at the post, damn it. Trust me.

And then...?

Nothing. They take a break, Bronx is born, and then they play a show in Columbus, OH on December 1, 2008. This whole little back and forth ends. Folie a Deux is released on December 10th and...well...we all know what happens after that.

#absolutely fucking insane honestly #we've been obsessing over this all day #adult responsibilities? what are those in the face of p2 lore?!#anyway. hope you enjoyed the fruits of our crazy #p2 #peterick #pete wentz #patrick stump #fall out boy #folie a deux #pre-hiatus #hijinx and tomfoolery

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grapejuicestyless · 2 months

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part 2 for so long london w/ a happy ending please I loved it sm😭😭

loml.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: After nearly a year apart and an album later, turns out you and Harry aren’t doing as well as you let off to be. Part 2 to So Long, London

Seeing him across the room even after all this time sends chills down my spine. I recall the warm feeling of his hands against my spine and the smell of gunpowder as he aims his pistol at my heart.

It’s funny seeing him now that he’s written down his feelings and published them like a diary for the world to read. I know more about his heart than he led me on to know. I know how he claims to have felt shattered inside with the realization he lost the “love of his life” and how we walked the fine line between being perfect and violently broken. But really, what is perfect when it comes to us?

He wrote down some things I just can’t unabsorb. His songs turning me into more of an idea of sorts. It felt like watching the story of our love from afar. The details were there, but they weren’t quite right. He writes about how we danced in the kitchen listening to trash pop music, but he leaves out the way we always stumbled over the chipped tile by the counters. Does he remember how he’d lead us there purposely so he could wrap his arms around my cold body and save me?

Seeing him now I can feel his eyes drift to mine every couple seconds, his gaze burning into my side profile while I down another glass trying to shake the feeling.

I feel stupid now, seeing him at our best friend’s wedding. He’s in a suit and tie, his hair curled around his eye and a red tint from the sun on his cheeks. I feel even more stupid wearing a green dress on the opposite side of the alter, holding flowers and smiling at how the bride and groom promise themselves in sickness and in health.

I’m not stupid though, I can hear the whispers about how we almost had it all. The flowers picked out from the catalog dull in comparison to the ones we had picked out for each other by the third week together. When I sit with the bridesmaids, I hear their snickers at the bride, how lucky she is to be the first married, how they always thought it would have been me.

But I’m a good friend, and a damn good actress. I can paste on a smile and act like the jokes they sneak into their speeches about how they never saw it coming, telling stories about the newlyweds that should have been about us are funny. But I can’t help the way I start to sweat when they begin to quote the same words Harry had written down for me.

All of our love story written down for the public to use, words he penned on the paper with my face in mind belong to someone new now, “I love you’s” whispered between couples who once dreamed of having a love like ours.

“I remember meeting you in September of last year, you were wearing a yellow dress and red shoes. You didn’t match, but you made it look good. I thought you were beautiful, I just had to have you. And when you decided to go for a guy like me, I knew you were the one instantly. Just like our good friend Harry once said, ‘She’s an angel, my only angel.’” I don’t listen to his heartfelt speech anymore, I can’t even look at the smile on my friends face as he serenades her anymore, I feel like someones just ripped out my heart and claimed it as their own.

And like someone was praying for me to cry, to finally break and show everyone just how not okay I am, his eyes are on mine, and he’s not looking away. When my eyes catch his, I mentally curse myself, wishing I could sink into the seat beneath me. I excuse myself to use the bathroom, grabbing the bottom of my dress to make down the long hallways of the beautiful venue that should have been ours.

“Y/n.” His accent is thick in the foggy room, eyes dimmer than I remember. He runs after me, voices from the reception muffled by the walls put between us.

My eyes trace over his body, studying the way he sighs out my name. Can he hear my heart crashing down as I realize I’ve lost my touch? I cannot tell if he’s relieved or obligated to be standing so close.

I swallow hard, his english accent drawing me back to the place I once loved so much. My new home fulls in comparison to what we once had, and I can’t help but still hold a grudge for him taking that all away from me, for ruining a sacred city and crushing it between his fingers.

“You look good.” I break the awkward silence that falls between us, his lips parted like an idiot, like he ran without thinking and forgot how to talk.

“Me? God, you look breathtaking.”

I would have blushed not long ago, curtsying at his comment and kicking my feet beneath the table cloth, but now the compliment is empty and instead feels backhanded in some odd way.

“Oh…well thank you. I tried my best.” I laugh bitterly, and the shine in his eyes tells me he misses the unhappiness in my giggles.

When he doesn’t speak again, I swear I can feel my skin shifting over my bones every time I breathe.

“Well, it was good seeing you.” I lie through my teeth, turning on my heals and wiping away any tears gathering on my waterline.

“You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to avoid me. I know things aren’t the same between us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still look for you in every room I walk into. You’re the love of my life, even now.” He confesses, stepping closer.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t. I’m not in any rooms you’re in anymore.”

“But maybe I wish you were.” He says with a smirk, stepping closer and trying to slip his hand into mine, but it’s like needles stabbing into my skin, I cannot hold onto him, so I slip away.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

He grabs me again, a hold so desperate to keep me in his grasp, one I haven’t felt in a long time. Classic move from Mr. Steal Your Girl. The man who promised rings and cradles, the dame man who swooned over the small things and rolled his eyes as he turned his back. Mr. Make Her Cry.

“Y/n I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“It’s not. It can’t be, we already did that right?” I turn to him teary eyed, my wrist burning under the grip of his cold rings decorated on his warm hands.

“No, that’s not what that was.”

“Then what was it?”

He swallows, but keeps looking me in the eyes like he means everything he’s preparing to say.

“We were so young. I was scared, and I pulled away. It was wrong, but I thought you’d be better off with someone who wasn’t afraid to grow up.”

“I would have waited. You know that.” He nods.

“I know. But it’s not fair.”

“No, whats not fair is you coming back to me after leaving me stranded in a place I can’t even fucking stand to be near anymore! God, you’re such an asshole, talking rings and talking cradles and then claiming to be scared for a future you planned. You don’t do that, not to the love of your life, and you sure as hell don’t leave them stranded and alone. How dare you think it was romantic to have done that to me?” I spit venom from my tongue, my eyes clouded with tears. “You promised to never leave, then what? Never mind? You think you’re such a hero for leaving me but in reality you’re a coward. Letting me think we had it all, we almost had it all and the. You leave? What do I do with myself now that you’ve come back? Do you want me to forgive you? Harry, I might be the love of your life but you’re the loss of mine.”

“I know, I know.”

“Stop saying you know when you don’t!” I scream, quieting down as I remember where we stand, and I silently pray I haven’t spoiled such a beautiful wedding.

“I’m not claiming to have been a good partner, god knows about all my faults and I’ve gone away to fix them, and you’re here now, and I don’t know how I’ll ever find you again if I do not ask now, but I need you to listen to me now before it’s too late because I’ve never felt a hole in my chest like this, and I need you to see how badly I need you back in my life, I need you to trust me when I say I’m committed this time.” He pleads, his hands trembling in mine.

My lip trembles at the feeling of his skin on mine, my face colliding with his shoulder in a suffocating hug, I can feel myself falling back into his wicked grip, but when he holds me like this, it feels more like flying than falling, at least until the bone crush.

Standing in the hallway of a wedding built for us, but dedicated to another, I see us dancing in the kitchen again, the steps burned into my head as we waltz back into rekindled flames. His love is just so warm, fuck it if I get burned, if it falls apart again.

He’s the loss of my life, Mr. Writes Me Love Songs, Mr. Dances With Me In The Kitchen.

But for now, at least under the false illusion’s presented within this luxurious wedding, he’ll be the love of my life.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fine line harry styles #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

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kanerlove88 · 2 months

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I have never had many thoughts about this beyond the fact that I do think RoyJamie will get married. I usually get caught up thinking about their domestic life post marriage.

So many wonderful fics on Ao3 of RJ weddings and I love them all. Always did assume they will marry in London and maybe honeymoon in the Maldives or go to Amsterdam. But it just struck me: what if they get married in Amsterdam? They’re both fuck you rich and would have no qualms about dragging their friends and family to Amsterdam to get married. It’ll be in the off season anyways.

I don’t know Amsterdam enough to know where they’ll marry but I think they’ll make sure the venue is close enough that they can go visit “their” windmill. Staring up at their windmill in the dead of the night, wearing their wedding suit. The party is raging on elsewhere but they’re newlyweds and if they want to sneak out of their reception to go see a windmill—in the city where their relationship changed forever, even if they didn’t know it at the time—they absolutely fucking will.

“We went to see a windmill!”, Jamie will say the next day when Sam asks him where he and Roy went off to. All the boys assume he means they went to get laid just like they did when Jamie said it all those years ago in the bus.

#this is some self indulgent stupid bullshit #but the thought of them getting married in Amsterdam struck me #and I just had to word vomit it #you cannot tell me a bunch of them thought they fucked in Amsterdam #the cheering after Jamie said they saw a windmill lmao #royjamie

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sgiandubh · 7 months

Note

Interesting. So Sam was at the Talk Art party, a celebration for the podcast his friend Russell Tovey does. Caitriona's dear friend Aisling Bea is also friends with Russell and Robert and was there and celebrating too. And it struck me again how this kind of thing is exactly up Cait's alley, and she knows Aisling and Russell and she's super into art and clearly loves to talk about art/creativity etc. and it always strikes again me how odd it is that SC are not allowed to be seen in public together. They're just "friends" right? Know the same people. Don't friends go to and perhaps hang out at the same events? 🤔

Dear Talk Art Anon,

I suppose you mean yesterday's 5 year celebration of Russell Tovey and Robert Diament's Talk Art podcast, which happened yesterday at the Toklas Restaurant in London (just across the street from King's College, actually). FYI, I think the venue is named after Alice B. Toklas, Gertrude Stein's mustachioed lover. The woman even wrote a cookbook (hashish fudge, anyone?), from which I did try to cook myself, with mixed results.

This should give you an idea of the festive vibe and also the type of crowd in attendance: London glitterati with a marked LGBTQ+ flair and an interesting mix& match (spotted James Corden, too):

I know, I know what the Disgruntled Tumblrettes will say - they still have no clue about the ways of this world and automatically think it's a segregated affair. Not really my fault if their parochial brains are stuck in the Fifties.

You are correct: C's friend, Aisling Bea, was, indeed, there. Such a small world, eh? Always. 😉

And this should immediately fuel further speculation ('who's that girl?'), both chez *urv and Marple. I don't know who the woman is and I honestly think it actually doesn't matter:

And to offer you another question, instead of an answer: over all these years, how come we have seen half a battalion of S&C common friends/acquaintances, but next to 0 of Tait's entourage, which seems to be just about C old friends, many of whom are also friends with S, anyways?

Things that don't even make you go 🤔 anymore.

Very interesting news, indeed. Thank you, Anon. Drop by anytime!

[Later edit, because something crossed my mind right now]: last Tuesday, we did have, as you might know, the third National Day Reception, right at the embassy. My own mum looked on the official FB page and told me she was disappointed I wasn't on any picture. Except I was, half blocked by someone, and she did not see me. Believe what you want, as always.

#shitshow

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88thparallel · 9 months

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Last summer my cousin happened to pick the venue from HLV as her reception location. I about died of excitement (obviously). It was an absolutely lovely wedding and I realized after all this time I never shared the pictures, so I figured, better late than never!

The hall had obviously been painted for Sherlock or repainted after, as the walls were all white. It was a modestly sized venue but for a smaller wedding it was quite comfortable. The area where John and Sherlock (etc.) were seated in the episode (and where Sherlock gave his speech) was where dancing was set up for my cousin's wedding. You know I'm a sadist and requested "December, 1963" before the night was over ;) The opposite side of the room had a permanent looking bar. The windows let in beautiful light and the gardens outside were exquisite (and included an underground grotto with a waterfall, where many of us sought reprieve from the heat). The scenes elsewhere (the church, the scene with Sherlock showing off his dance moves, outside Sholto's room, confronting the photographer, etc.) were not filmed here. Happy to answer any questions, I know I've been AWOL from Tumblr for ages but I'll check back in now and then to just spam everyone's timelines with Johnlock and get back in my feels about it all. It was a fantastic experience, and we also spent a few days in London and visited the London Aquarium where the infamous odd Mary death scene was filmed, and stopped by Gower St. and Speedy's obviously. I am happy to post on those too if anyone is interested :)

#johnlock #sherlock #john watson #hlv #his last vow #88thparallelexperiences #i forgot how to tag #88thparallel

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footywritingworks · 10 months

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It's our love story, baby just say yes {Martin Ødegaard x fem!Reader}

Summary: Going with his best friend to a wedding proves to be difficult for Martin, especially when someone else seems to be keeping her attention away from him.

Wordcount: 1,3k

Warnings: pining, Martin is a lovesick fool, kinda angsty, Rúben Dias

A/N: not edited we die like soldiers here

It had all gone so well until now. He had asked you to come to that wedding with him for two reasons. One, all his other friends and teammates brought dates as well and he didn’t want to be handed around the single women by them in hopes he would settle down. And two, because he hoped he would finally have the guts to tell you how he felt.

For the time you two had been friends he had always known there was something special there. It started his heartbeat going just a little too fast when you got really close to him, longer gazes and little sparks up his nerves when you touched him. But he knew he was done for one night a couple of months ago when he had found you asleep on the couch of his apartment waiting for him after Arsenal had sadly bottled the league. You had wanted to be there for him after the tough loss but since it was an evening game you had fallen asleep. The way you curled up in one of his jerseys sleeping softly made his heart grow that little bit fonder. And the fact that you had driven all the way from the other side of London to comfort him meant the world to him. From that moment on he didn’t know what to do with himself. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you.

He tried to get advice from his mates how to approach the subject and they had come up with a plan to do it at this wedding. It was supposed to be perfect timing. Dolled up in a gorgeous dress, surrounded by the romantic atmosphere and the glow of happiness. There wasn’t any other place more fitting. He wanted to seep you away to the dancefloor to then get you to the decorated, enlightened balcony to confess his feelings. In his mind, it was a wonderful idea.

Until now it had all gone so well. While you got ready in the shared hotel room he noted that his tie had the same colour as your dress, making you look like a couple. He had held you close during the ceremony, his arm around you as you leaned into him while wiping the happy tears away. While walking around the reception venue you had clung to his arm, a little uncomfortable with the amount of people in the room.

The way your hand wrapped around his bicep to keep yourself close to him made him feel protective over you. He knew he would never let anything bad happen to you and he would make sure of that today as well. The way your hands gripped the fabric of his suit jacket made him want to bring you back to the hotel room and make you grip his back instead.

Things were going so well. But now? Now he was sat alone at your table, glass of whiskey in his hand as he watched you being spun around on the dancefloor by someone who wasn’t him. The grip on his glass was so tight that it looked like he was about to break it, knuckles turning white. Of course it had to be him who stole you away. Wasn’t it enough he had stolen the league title from him? Did he have to do the same with his girl? With the love of his life.

His jaw clenched tight as he watched Ruben pull you close to continue dancing. Your hand found his shoulder while his rested on your waist. Whatever he was saying, it made you laugh. And Martin hated every single second of it. He often had felt the feeling of anger burning inside of him but nothing could have prepared him for the raging jealousy that was taking over his body. He imagined how he could rip Ruben to shreds and take you away to make you his. Who was Ruben anyway to try and take what’s his. How dare he? Ruben wasn’t someone for commitment. He jumped from one girl to another and seeing him with you made his heart ache. You deserved someone who would commit to you. Someone who would drop everything just to be close to you. Someone who would love you with every fibre of their being. Someone like him.

Just as Martin was about to take another sip of his drink Declan sat in front of his line of sight, blocking him from watching you and Ruben. A smug smile graced Declan’s face as he leaned close so Martin could hear him over the loud sound of music.

„What is your girl doing with another man?“

Martin raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink.

„She isn’t my girl.“

This seemed to make Declan’s smile even wider. He almost looked like a kid in a candy store.

„Not yet. Come on Skipper. This isn’t like you to sit around and watch. Go to her! Get your girl. I can’t keep watching you two walk on eggshells around each other. You are hopeless.“

Martin sighed and looked over at you again. You were even closer now than you were before. And Martin had enough. He drank the last bit of his drink and stood up abruptly. As he made his way to the dancefloor he could see Declan waving over his other teammates so they could watch whatever was about to unfold now.

On the way over to you his mind was racing. All possible scenarios went through his head as his hands began to become sweaty. He was nervous. But he had to power through because he knew you were worth it.

He laid a hand on Rubens back which made him turn back, finally away from you.

„May I take over?“

Martin didn’t even acknowledge Ruben any further, his eyes stuck on your face. You looked absolutely beautiful. The light making your face glow all while a small blush graced your cheeks. The soft smile directed at him made his heart stop. And he could swear he saw your eyes sparkle.

You immediately had stepped into his arms as you started to dance. You were so close. He could feel the heat of your had through the fabric of his jacket and your breath on the side of his face. You fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces. Your body slotting against his just right. When the steps became more of a routine Martin risked looking down to your face. You were already looking at him, gentle smile with a blush on your face, your eyes in a soft gaze. He couldn’t stop himself from switching his gaze from your eyes to your red painted lips. You leaned your forehead against his cheek and he could smell the intoxicating mix of your shampoo and the perfume he loved so much on you. He subconsciously took in a deep breath.

„Do it.“

Confused he pulled his face away from yours after the whisper. It had been barely audible due to the music but he still understood every word. His heart was beating out of his chest and he prayed that couldn’t hear how embarrassingly fast it was going. The confused visage still very much visible on his face.

„Do what you have wanted to do the whole night. What you have wanted to do for so long but never had the guts to. Do what you have been craving to do and can’t hold back any longer. Kiss me and make me yours Martin.“

He wasted not a second to dive in and connect your lips. He had wasted enough time already. Not anymore. He tried to give all the feelings into the kiss. The longing, the love, the passion, the jealousy and the relief he now felt. Your hand had meanwhile found refuge in his hair, messing up his perfect styling but he couldn’t care less. His Hand squeezed your waist to pul you impossibly closer. You both smiled into the kiss while you could hear his mates cheer in the background. As you pulled away your lashes fluttered before opening, the smile not leaving your face.

„Does that mean you’ll be my gir-„

You let out a giggle before interrupting him.

„Yes. Absolutely.“

#martin ødegaard imagine #martin odegaard imagine #Martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard #martin odegaard x reader #Martin Ødegaard x Reader

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prestedhallo7 · 2 years

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Banquet hall for wedding

Prested has hosted many weddings, celebrations, and special occasions. This is the best banquet hall for wedding. Our brides regularly refer to us as “just perfect” due to our emphasis on making everyone feel relaxed and looked after. Other than your guests and staff, no one else will have access to Prested on your special day. The 14 beautiful bedrooms and lovely period reception rooms are exclusively yours.

#venue for a wedding #reception venues london #uk wedding venue #wedding marquee venues #best afternoon tea essex

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phanfictioncatalogue · 8 months

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Strangers AU (2) Masterlist

part one

6:30 Special - dansphlevels

Summary: In a world where you and your soulmate both have constellations of dark blue freckles that glow when you’re together, Dan has been waiting for his whole life for it to finally glow. And when it does, he is stood face to face with a man Phil, who looks back in confusion, his own constellation unlit.

airport meetings (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan is having a bad start to his morning, and you would think a stranger crashing into him, literally, would make things worse, but actually, it makes Dan's morning somewhat better when Dan sees how attractive the man is.

A Match and a Fuse (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: Phil is twenty six years old and stuck in a dead end life. He works at Starbucks and may or may not be carrying a torch for his best friend of eight years. He doesn’t know who he is or what he wants–or how to go about figuring it out. That all starts to change when he happens upon the resume of a certain law school grad named Daniel.

Charmed (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Dan doesn’t understand Valentine’s Day. That is until he’s given an anonymous card with someone’s phone number in it. It takes months of talking with this anonymous person to learn who they are, and it ends up being the person that Dan least expects.

Close To You - succubusphan

Summary:Phil takes his friend’s child to baby ballet and meets a handsome dad. It was the first day of the rest of his life.

Golden Boy (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Phil takes a drawing class in university and needs a subject for his drawing final.

Ice Packs And Coffee Cups (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: As part of the emergency staff for London's biggest concert venue, Phil knew how to manage a huge range of problems. When a certain brown-haired boy turns up unconscious, Phil doesn't think much of it, well, until the boy awakens, that is.

I Really Can’t Tell If I’m Dreaming Or Breathing - wavydanrises

Summary: Dan is an events manager at the Queen’s Garden’s, one of the city’s most renowned hotels, and he's organizing a Christmas reception with the cute reception planner called Phil Lester.

Lost (ao3) - BeeAreEff

Summary: phil goes to an amusementpark, no spoilers.

Lungs Filled With Flowers - botanistlester

Summary: Whenever Dan has a bad day, he always knows that Animal Crossing will be there for him no matter what. When he finds a friend code written on his desk, he immediately adds it into his DS, despite not knowing who it could be.

pastry chef attempts to steal phil’s heart (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: If anyone asks, Prince Philip’s sneaky morning journeys down to the royal pastry kitchen are for nothing more than the perfect cup of coffee.

Popping Corn With Your Ex-Boyfriend’s Ex-Boyfriend (ao3) - spencerwrites

Summary: Phil goes to the cinema by himself and finds his boyfriend with another boy buying tickets for the same movie he wanted to see. Phil and Dan both dump their boyfriend and go see the movie together instead.

snuggle up close, let me hold your pieces in place, even if just for a night (ao3) - natigail

Summary: It was just one thing after another really.

Broken down bus with a whole class of freshers. Dingy hotel room that was cold as fuck. No one wanting to share a room with Dan.

But then the TA Phil stepped up to the plate and defended Dan. Of course, it meant that the two of them ended up sharing a bed, and then the heater had to break. It's the perfect excuse for sharing body warmth and confessions.

Special Delivery (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan Howell receives a package he definitely didn't order, but the man who did order it is... well, he's rather interesting. And the object he's ordered... well, it's odd, to say the least.

strawberries and cigarettes (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: “Hey, mate, spare a light?” the guy says. He stops a couple of feet from Phil and holds out an unlit cigarette.

Swipe Right (ao3) - howellesterfics

Summary: Dan is tired of matching with sexually confused frat boys on Tinder. When he swipes right on Phil, he hopes that this time around things will be different, and well - they certainly are.

Try New Things (ao3) - PoisonedMind

Summary: Phil tries yoga for the first time and it’s an absolutely harrowing experience except for the cute guy at the mat next to him who sucks just as badly as Phil does.

Two Strangers Drinking Champagne In An Airport - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil in an airport terminal drinking champagne out of plastic cups with a bunch of those airport TV screens in the background with all the flights cancelled.

Up Close And Personal - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan is a famous dinosaur expert who has been studying dinosaurs his whole life, and gets the opportunity to work at Jurassic World (he works exclusively with the raptors). Phil is a very smart guy, like a genius, and he’s close friends with Louise who works at Jurassic World so he gets to go to Jurassic World and gets behind the scenes VIP treatment. There, he meets Dan. Unfortunately for Phil, things go wrong while feeding the raptors and an accident happens.

waffles (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: phil goes to the 24hr diner with the hopes of seeing his favorite waiter (insp by me seeing a cute waitress at a diner. unfortunately none of the rest actually happened to me lmao)

#phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #phanfic #phan #masterlists #au #strangers #strangers masterlist

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reviewsbyliam · 7 months

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“THE PRELUDE: ACT OF RECLAMATION” A LIVE SHOW BY OSÉ [SOLD OUT]

Headline Show Review - 09/12/2023

[Pictured below; Osé and band]

[Photographer: @bygideooon_ on Instagram]

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*DISCLAIMER* All photos and videos from this event are over on @reviewsbyliam on Instagram. Please head there after reading this article to witness the greatness that we did. Thank you and enjoy reading!

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I arrived in London on the 29th of November, suitcase in hand, 5 hour coach journey behind me and a now 45 minute Uber journey to Deptford. My boyfriend met me at the coach station, we spent the first evening just settling into the area, getting some food and having a few beverages (as you do), and then some well earned sleep after both travelling from separate parts of the UK.

Experiencing a day of being a tourist in London the next day was bewildering - I wanna live there now.. I'm definitely made for the big busy city life. We headed back to the hotel, and got ready to make our travels towards one of my long time internet friends first ever SOLD OUT DEBUT HEADLINE SHOW!!

The emotions were at an all time high, before we get into it though..

Here's a little backstory..

I've known Osé for 3/4 years now, first meeting on Twitter (now X) and forming a mutual connection through Ariana Grande and our overall love for music. I always knew that Osé loved to sing, I also knew that one day, he'd be on a stage somewhere giving it his all performing his music and not looking back - little did I know how real that thought would actually become.

Shortly after debuting this blog, Osé called me and told me the tear flowing news that was him booking his first ever headline show to debut his first new project. We screamed, laughed, I cried for him because I was so elated with pride, and then he asked me if I would join him in London, interview him as well as review his show, and help write the description for his event. I must've asked him several times if he was joking, following up with a loud !!YES!! and getting to planning..

Fast forward to the night of the show..

Entering the venue and the thought of not knowing what I was about to hear from Osé was anxiety inducing but extremely exciting nonetheless. I'd heard the music from his project prior to the show as he wanted me to be able to catch a feel of what was to come to help my own personal work, which was such a beautiful gesture. So I kind of knew the sounds of the night, but chose to not listen to them like they were the last songs on Earth so I could re-experience my first listen.

On stage before Osé was another uprising artist called Josh Pace, who was a very good musician to have before the main act as he drew the crowd in and the vocals were so raw. His bass tones were unreal.

After listening to Josh melt our ears, we mingled for a little while, grabbed a couple of drinks to calm the nerves, and then realised it was time..

I knew that when Osé took to the stage, it was going to become HIS world. We weren't here for us, we were here to witness a spectacle that can only be described as out of this universe.

Opening the show with an interlude describing who Osé is, some words being uplifting, some words describing Osé in a more vulnerable, judgmental light.. it was very honest and intriguing. The interlude interpreted that many people have things to say about Osé and his character, including himself, but nobody really knows the true him - hence the reclamation of his story.

Osé walks on stage, the room is flooded with screams, claps, hoots and hollers, he smiles and tries to take in the reception he has just received (which was extremely deserving) and starts to sing one of the most ICONIC songs of all time; Creep by Radiohead.

The raw power that exonerated from Osé’s vocal box was like watching a superhero find their power for the first time. The moment he opened his mouth, he was unstoppable, it was Osé’s time.

I just knew he was about to SMACK us in the jaw with this show after blowing us away with his rendition of Creep and my heart was racing, my knees were weak and I had a dry mouth. I was SO nervous for Osé, but one thing I noticed, Osé wasn’t nervous, because he was home.

Osé started singing his songs from his project, including one song that had a very personal meaning which Osé spoke to us about before he performed, allowing us to see that artists we listen to, admire and idolize are struggling with personal battles just like us. I wont be revealing the track names, because the project is still under review by Osé himself and this night was just about getting a feel for whats to come. But when the project is birthed, you'll see. The night was all about the people closest to Osé finding out why this project is in the works and how he is choosing to utilize it to expand his character and knowledge of the world, which in my eyes is a very safe choice to make as an upcoming artist because for you to do well, you have to make sure your work is cohesive and relatable, and that is what Osé's project embodies, truly.

The raw talent that exudes from Osé, whether its through speaking, writing, singing, anything - it is a talent to be acknowledged and afraid of. Osé's vocals were so strong, and the evidence of his ability to explore across genres is even stronger. We went from sad, to funk, to healing, to rocking out. Not to forget that the band which accompanied him on stage were well into their element also. The guy on the drums? I could've watched him go crazy for hours. And don't even get me started on the saxophone, we will be here for eternity.

Stage presence is a HUGE factor into an artists success, because nobody wants to see an artist just stand there on stage like a bowling pin and sing into a mic and then wave and walk off. Thank the Lord that wasn't the case for Osé. He walked onto that stage, announced himself, and just let his inhibitions go. When the crowd hyped him, it was like the funk spirit had taken over his soul and he just threw his hips like there was no tomorrow. He laughed, he jumped, he clapped, he cried but he also joked with the crowd and made it the most safest space I've ever had the pleasure of being in.

At the end of the night, Osé thanked everyone for attending his first sold out headline show, and had to halt a few tears (so did I, many times). I have never heard a room erupt into screams, whistles, chants, you name it, so loudly before. I was watching Osé on stage just taking in the love that he so righteously deserved, which made it a full circle moment for everyone involved. The gratitude displayed was immense and he truly and authentically cracked the egg of success and stepped into the rest of his life as a vocal powerhouse that night.

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Raw vocals, warming stage presence, immaculate band and organisation. Venue was cozy and made the vibe so much more intimate than it already was. Location was easy to find.

OVERALL REVIEW OF THE NIGHT: OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!!!!!

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If you're wondering whether to give Osé a chance when he next does a show, wonder no more because I'm here to tell you that it would be one of the biggest regrets of your life if you didn't attend a show of his or at least take a dive into his socials and hear the heaven that leaves his mouth when he sings. I have an upcoming interview to be released with Osé, and we discuss his early life, career, fears, and so SO much more. We dive into topics about the night too, and just have a good old catch up about how much Osé's life has changed since his sold out headline show. Keep an eye on my Instagram page for more details surrounding the release of that!

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A message to Osé: Thank you for coming into my life and showing me that being creative is okay, it's okay to be vulnerable and show it in your work, it's okay to struggle and share that with people because we are all human and deserve peace. I will be forever thankful for the opportunities you graced upon me surrounding this event and I will forever be in debt to you. You are one of the most intelligent humans I've come across, and watching you blossom as an artist and a friend is a blessing that I will never let go. Never give up on who you dream to be, because the ability that you hold within yourself to make that happen is a lot more stronger than you'll ever know. I love you and I'm forever proud of you! L x

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Thanks for reading! Photos and Videos from

“THE PRELUDE: ACT OF RECLAMATION” LIVE SHOW BY OSÈ

will be posted to my Instagram @reviewsbyliam !

Head over there and check them out!

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Written by Liam Wibberley

09/12/2023