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withwritersblock · 29 days ago

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Oh! Darling pt. 5

~Oh! Darling by The Beatles~

Author's Note: somewhat requested lol! I was rewatching the Faceoff series and reminded myself that someone asked for something like this so here you go! Anyways, hopefully more for this series coming up. Summary: Quinn's Faceoff episode Warnings: Canucks losing against Edmonton lol Word Count: 1,630 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

Masterlist

It completely slipped his mind that he had agreed to film for the Face Off series until he started seeing the advertisements for it everywhere. Now, himself and his girlfriend were sitting together and watching it together. Ellie was in his lap, drinking a bottle.

They already watched the first few episodes of the series and he was shocked on how it actually ended up looking. The series was actually entertaining. But now it was his episodes and he was terrified. He agreed to do it because they begged him to do it. His story was special because he was a young captain and a new dad.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked as she stood up from the couch, jogging towards the kitchen. He glanced down towards the little girl in his arms before he looked back towards Y/N.

“Water’s fine, love,” he muttered as he looked into his daughter’s sleepy eyes as she continued to finish the bottle. “I’m pressing play,” he let out as he reached toward the remote.

“Wait!” she called out as she took a hold of a soda and a water bottle. He chuckled as he pressed play anyway. “Hey!” she let out while laughing as she jogged towards the couch. Cautiously, she placed the bottle of water beside him and she kept her soda in her hand. He chuckled as he pulled the bottle from Ellie’s mouth. He brought her up and began to delicately pat her back.

Instantly, once he saw himself on the screen, his face scrunched up. “Oh god,” he muttered.

Y/N grinned widely as she saw him on the screen, “Oh stop, look how cute you are,” she said as she inched towards him. Delicately, she tapped her hand against the top of his thigh.

On the screen, he started cooking and talking about his journey of being captain. “Probably read 20 to 25 books this year because I felt at the start of the year that with becoming captain, it was a lot for me-” he explained on the screen. Y/N lips fell into a pout.

Saying that it was a lot for him was an understandment. He was overwhelmed from the moment he was given the C. He came home that morning after the conversation with Rick and told her that he was becoming captain. At first, it was exciting and he was confident that he could do a good job. But as the preseason went on, he was shy and nervous. But as he explained in the episode, he started to grow into it.

“What was it like having this new role on the team and this new role in life?” the interviewer asked. Quinn tossed his head back and laughed.

“Definitely been a hard year but I wouldn’t change a single thing about it,” he explained before running his fingers through his hair. “It was really difficult because it was hard being away from my girlfriend; because obviously pregnancy is really hard but she was great,” he explained.

The screen started showing clips of Quinn and newborn Ellie. Y/N was sitting on the couch beside Ellen as quinn was holding Ellie against his chest. She was only a few weeks old when the camera crew was there.

“Your daughter was born a month before the playoffs, what was that like?” the interviewer continued.

Quinn smiled softly on the screen, his eyes lighting up in the process. “When we found out about Ellie, we realized pretty quickly that the timing wasn’t great. But our families were in town for the first few weeks. So while I was away on a roadie our families were here and supporting Y/N,” he took in a deep breath.

“You would’ve had no idea Quinn was a new dad. He was still Quinn Hughes and he was still a huge presence on and off the ice,” Rick said on the screen, a chuckle falling from his lips. “He wanted to talk about his daughter all of the time but you could tell that if he did, it would break his heart a little bit,” he explained.

Quinn clenched his jaw as he shifted his gaze down towards his daughter. Y/N pouted her lips as she reached her hand over and ran her fingers through his hair.

“But that’s why we chose him as captain. He can seperate his personal life from being on the ice. He doesn’t let it effect what he does and that’s what you need from a captain. But you know that even if he didn’t let it effect him, he was constantly thinking about his girls,” Rick continued.

Quinn smiled softly as he continued running his hand across Ellie’s back. “Can we move on to Trouba or something,” Quinn mumbled as he looked towards Y/N.

The screen continued to show a smiley Quinn in the locker room and then back to him in his apartment with Y/N and Ellie. It stayed on that moment for a few seconds before it shifted to Trouba in New York.

“Let me see her,” Y/N muttered. Quinn nodded as he lifted Ellie from his chest and cautiously handed her over to Y/N. Quinn shifted his body to the side as he scanned Y/N’s features. “Did you know Rick said those things?” she asked, meeting his eye.

Pursing his lips forward, he shook his head slightly. He leaned towards her, delicately kissing her. “Didn’t really talk about it,” he said with a shrug. She nodded as Ellie’s eyes were starting to get heavy in her arms.

“Pause it, I’m gonna put her down for her nap,” she said while standing up. He nodded as he reached beside him for the remote. He paused it as he watched her walk down the hall with Ellie in her arms.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to see a text from Jack asking if he watched the episode yet. He replied that he was working on it.

Ellie was always a fast sleeper so it only took a handful of minutes for her to fall asleep. Y/N returned to the living room, a grin on her lips. “Okay, press play,” she said as she sat down on the couch beside Quinn. He reached over and delicately rested his hand onto her furthest thigh. He ran his thumb across her thigh, she could barely feel it through the sweatpants fabric.

He pressed play and Trouba’s section started, showing off othe game that got them the President’s Trophy. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder as they continued to relive the end of the season together. After a few more minutes of Jacob and Gabe’s segments it returned to Quinn.

Quinn was in Nashville with his parents for the first two games of the playoffs.

“What was it like when Quinn told you guys he was having a baby?” one of the producers asked them as they were sitting in a coffee shop. Quinn smiled as he looked towards his mom. Her eyes lit up and so did his dad.

“They called us on Facetime and Quinn just blurted it out like he was in trouble or something,” she said while laughing. Y/N looked towards Quinn and he shook his head while laughing.

“Telling news like that over the phone, kinda felt like I was,” Quinn joked out before they cut away to a clip of the Canucks and Predators series.

After several more minutes, it cut towards the series against Edmonton. The high paced play and the comeback they tried to make in game seven. Quinn took in a sudden breath as he watched the plays and heard himself talk on the ice. He always dissociates during the game to the point he never really remembers what he says or how the plays develop.

It panned toward the audience with Ellen, Jack, and Y/N watching the game. Her WAG jacket covering her frame, that she helped design. Jack’s arm was in a sling but he was leaning forward watching the game intensely. Ellen was emotionless as she shook her head slightly.

It showed the ending of the match, the celebrations by the Oilers and the sadness of the Canucks. Despite everything, Quinn still led the team in a salute to the crowd. She ran her hand across his upper back.

“It obviously didn’t end like how we wanted it to but it was good experience for many of us. This is the first playoff run for a lot of us, so now we have a lot of things to use a stepping stones,” he explained in the interview.

“Anything you would change?” the interviewer asked, nearly cringing at the question once she read it from the card.

“To win-” he said jokingly, “No, I mean-it’s been a tough year. Obviously, I am glad that I get to be home with my daughter for the next few months and not having to have the game on my mind for a few months. It would’ve been awesome to keep going, keep playing but uhm-I guess a good constellation prize was getting time with my girlfriend and our daughter,” he explained, smiling softly as he looked into the camera for the last time in the episode.

Y/N lips fell into a pout as she lifted her head to look towards Quinn. “I’m such a sap,” he let out. She chuckled as she leaned towards him, kissing his cheek delicately.

“That was really cute,” she whispered as he tilted his head to the side to meet her gaze. “Such a good captain,” she dragged her thumb across his jawline.

“Shush, you,” he whispered before he leaned towards her, kissing her softly.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #dad!quinn #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines

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nevereverywhere · 1 year ago

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The »The End« guitar solos or "how to subtly show your love by playing guitar together, when talking about problems is apparently not a possibility" Quotes by Geoff Emerick, sound engineer and record producer: 'I know!' he (John) said mischievously, unwilling to let it go. 'Why don't we all play the solo? We can take turns and trade licks.' Long guitar solos with dueling lead guitarists were becoming the vogue at the time, so it was a suggestion that clearly had merit. George (Martin) looked dubious, but Paul not only embraced the idea but upped the ante further still: 'Better yet,' he said, 'why don't all three of us play it live?' Lennon loved the idea – for the first time in weeks I saw a real gleam in his eye. It didn't take long for John's enthusiasm to rub off on George Harrison, who finally got into the spirit of things. John, Paul and George looked like they had gone back in time, like they were kids again, playing together for the sheer enjoyment of it. More than anything, they reminded me of gunslingers, with their guitars strapped on, looks of steely-eyed resolve, determined to outdo one another. Yet there was no animosity, no tension at all – you could tell they were simply having fun. The order was Paul first, then George, then John, and they went back and forth. They ran down their ideas a few times and before you knew it, they were ready to go. Their amps were lined up together and we recorded their parts on one track. You could really see the joy in their faces as they played; it was like they were teenagers again. One take was all we needed. The musical telepathy between them was mind-boggling. Incredibly, after just a brief period of rehearsal, they nailed it in a single take. When it was over, there was no backslapping or hugging – The Beatles rarely expressed themselves physically like that – but there were lots of broad grins. I guess there's also the possibility that, as they were performing the solo, they realized they might never get to play together again; perhaps they were viewing that moment as a poignant farewell. It was the first time in a long time that the three of them were actually playing together in the studio.

#sorry ringo #your drum solo is also perfect #but the guitar solo part of the end will always get to me #and in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #beatles #abbey road #the end #1969 #guitar solo

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juniperskye · 1 year ago

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What are the chances?

Sneak peek: Aaron and you match on Tinder and have been messaging back and forth over the summer…who’d have thought that meet the teacher night would bring him face to face with the woman he’s been sexting.

Aaron Hotchner x Teacher! Reader

Smut/Fluff

Word count: 5335

I have been writing this for weeks and I’m not sure about it – feedback is welcomed (as long as its constructive) Also I am using personal knowledge of teaching (as I work in a school) if it doesn't match your personal experiences I am sorry. Not edited - please be kind.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, language, sexting, tinder, online dating, explicit description of sexual activity, age gap (legal - Aaron is 45 Reader is 26), unsolicited sexual messages via dm, mentions of Jack, New Girl reference, mentions of school, teaching, insecurities, mentions of cheating, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Your phone buzzing pulled your attention away from the book you’d been reading. The notification illuminating your screen was one that filled you with dread.

You had joined Tinder at the suggestion of your colleague, she claimed that after your last relationship plus the significant amount of time you’ve been single equated to you needing to join the dating app.

This on its own wasn’t what was tying your stomach in knots, that was the fact that since you’d downloaded the god forsaken app you’d received a disturbing amount of unsolicited dick pics. Tonight, however, would bring a positive change. You had swiped right on a particularly handsome man a few days ago and had been silently hoping to match with him ever since. You had honestly given up hope until now.

Swiping over on the notification to launch the app would allow you to remind yourself of how handsome this guy actually was.

“Alright Aaron let’s take another look at this profile” you mumbled to yourself as you slid further down the couch.

Scrolling through his pictures you couldn’t help but smile. He only had three, but they were good. The first picture was a close up of him in a suit, he wore a subtle smile and his eyes looked so inviting. The second picture was him in a black T-shirt he looked as though he’d been laughing or maybe talking, a big grin on his face. The third photo…this one left your mouth dry. He’d clearly been on a golf course, the photo taken without his knowledge, but his arms…the way they were flexed and the veins that bulged in his forearms and hands. God the thoughts you had about what he could do with those hands.

You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the vulgar thoughts you were having about this perfect stranger. He was hot, you couldn’t deny it, but his bio drew you in even further, it was to the point but definitely had you wanting to know more.

I’m a single dad and a workaholic. I love the Beatles. Looking for something real.

It felt like someone may have guided him through it, but you could tell the sentiment was genuine. He was a single dad and you loved that he wasn’t hiding that. It wasn’t something that would deter you from getting to know him either. You loved kids, that’s why you’d become a teacher.

You had mentioned that in your bio, it was short and sweet and exactly you.

I’m a 3rd grade teacher, I love music and reading, and yes, “I have touched glitter in the last 24 hours!”.

You’d thought about messaging him right away but ultimately decided against it. Not wanting to seem too eager, you’d give it some time and who knows, maybe he’d even message you first.

It had been an entire week since you’d swiped right and now he was finally messaging you. He’d kept it pretty simple, but it was late and given the previous messages you’d received at this hour, you were feeling pretty weary about opening his message.

A: Hello, I wanted to message you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how to start this conversation.

Y: Hi 😊 and no worries I get it. Online dating doesn’t exactly have the same effect as an in-person conversation.

A: Precisely. How are you?

Y: I’m doing good, tired. You?

A: I’m good, thank you.

A: I’m so sorry, I travel for work and am currently on the west coast, I didn’t even factor in the time difference.

Y: Don’t apologize! I’m the one who is awake at this ungodly hour. I should probably head to sleep though.

A: Yes, get some rest. Could I message you tomorrow and try this again?

Y: Absolutely, I’m looking forward to it! Goodnight Aaron!

A: Goodnight.

You woke up feeling pretty good, it was nice to not have to wake up at 6:00 am every morning. Once of the perks of being a teacher was the breaks. You were, however, thankful to be at a school that allowed a twelve-month contract which meant your paychecks continued through the summer. You had also made some extra cash by creating and selling assignments through teachers-pay-teachers (TPT) and by holding virtual tutoring sessions for students who were struggling.

Today you were just planning to create a few different anchor charts to upload for sale on your TPT account. You had just finished designing one for homophones vs. homographs and were ready to upload it when your phone buzzed. When you noticed the notification, you couldn’t help but smile.

A: Good morning

Y: Good morning! How are you?

A: I’m well, glad to be going home. How are you?

Y: Right, you had said you were on the west coast, is that for work?

Y: And I am good, thank you.

A: Yes, I unfortunately have to travel a lot for work. Your bio says you’re a teacher, that’s really incredible, how long have you been teaching?

Y: Travelling for work must take the excitement out of the actual travel.

Y: And thank you! I have been teaching for 5 years now! I love it so much; the kids make all the paperwork and administrative stuff worth it!

A: It is so great that you have that passion. It seems that it’s becoming increasingly rare.

Y: What about you? I see you’re a federal agent, is that right?

A: Yeah, I am. It’s not as glamorous as it may sound.

Y: I would think it’s busy, and hard work. Especially with you travelling while having kids at home.

A: It is, it’s nice to talk to someone who understands that. I just have one kid, a son, he’s almost 8.

Y: That is a good age!

A: It really is, he’s coming into his own.

A: I just saw the time; I have a plane to go catch. Can we talk again soon?

Y: I would really like that. Have a safe flight Aaron.

**One Month later**

The two of you had talked nearly every day for the past month. He was everything you could’ve hoped for; kind, funny, charming, he asked you about yourself and your job. You were really enjoying talking to him and he must’ve shared those feelings because he had recently asked you to switch over from Tinder to texting.

Aaron and you hadn’t had the chance to meet in person yet, but you texted frequently. In the time you’ve been talking, he’d been out of town a total of three times. The first was when you’d matched, he was somewhere on the west coast then. He was back for two days from that trip before he left again, that time was a short stint in the Midwest. And the most recent time, which he was just getting back from was a whole week, somewhere nearby, you knew based on the fact that you remained in the same time zone.

Getting to know each other had been going well, you two asked one another deep questions instead of surface level stuff. You’d talked about your dreams and how you hoped to continue teaching for a few more years before moving up into the administration side of things, and Aaron had shared that he used to be a prosecutor and while he couldn’t share much about his current job, he shared what he might do when he was done at the FBI. He informed you that you had inspired him and that he’d been considering teaching classes at the local university.

Connecting with him was easy, so easy in fact that you’d both admitted to having deleted your dating apps. You had told Aaron that you really wanted to meet him, and he had agreed with you, and so you had set up a tentative date for the following Friday, provided work doesn’t call him away.

Naturally, work did call him away. He’d texted you as soon as he found out. Short but sweet.

Aaron: Hey, I am so sorry, but we got a case. We’re headed to the tarmac now. Raincheck?

You: Oh, no worries! I understand, have a safe flight. Will you let me know when you land?

Aaron: Of course, I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.

You couldn’t help but blush at the name. Aaron and you hadn’t used pet names or even discussed it…hell, you hadn’t really discussed anything about what you were or where you were headed. You had figured that you would have that discussion over dinner, only now that wasn’t happening.

In all honesty you were starting to lose your resolve. Since you had started talking to Aaron, you hadn’t talked to any other men, which meant you hadn’t been intimate with any other men. You were starting to feel pretty restless. You’d thought about texting him, but again, you had no idea what this thing you were doing was. You had tried to push the feeling aside, keeping yourself busy by watching TV and cutting out materials for your classroom.

It was nearly 10 pm when your phone lit up. You looked down to see Aaron’s contact light up your screen, a smile taking form on your lips.

Aaron: Hey sweetheart, how was your day?

You: Hey! It was productive, I got a lot of prep work done for my class. How was your day?

Aaron: It was long, and brutal. I would much rather be there with you.

This was it; he was opening the door; you would just have to see how far he wanted this to go…would he invite you in given the chance?

You: I’d love it if you were here. I’m just lying in bed.

Aaron: You are?

You: Yeah, just here in bed. Thinking about you.

Aaron: I’ve been thinking about you too.

You: Yeah? How so?

Aaron: Sweetheart, I don’t want you to think that this is just some ploy. I like you; I really do, and I want to meet you in person.

You: I like you too Aaron and I know you wouldn’t do that. I’d also really love for you to continue…I really need to know what you’ve been thinking about.

Aaron: God sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about all the things I’d like to do with you.

Aaron: I’d love to start by grabbing your face and kissing those beautiful lips.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you read Aaron's text. Your heart begins to race, anticipation bubbling up inside you. The words on the screen ignite a flame of desire deep within your core, making it impossible to resist the growing heat between your legs.

You: Mmm, that sounds amazing. I can almost feel your lips on mine already.

Aaron: I want to taste every inch of you. Starting with your mouth, then trailing my kisses down your neck.

The mere thought of Aaron's lips exploring your body sends a surge of wetness between your thighs. You imagine him leaving gentle, lingering kisses along the curve of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below your earlobe.

You: Yes, please. I want to feel your lips everywhere.

Aaron: I'd slowly remove your shirt, teasingly revealing the soft skin underneath until it’s off completely, exposing your beautiful breasts.

You can't help but squirm in bed, the tingling warmth between your legs intensifying with every word. The anticipation builds as you imagine Aaron's hands brushing against your skin, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along the curve of your breasts.

You: Oh God, that sounds incredible. I can’t wait to feel your touch, Aaron.

Aaron: And I can’t wait to give it to you, my sweet girl. I'd worship every inch of your body, my hands guiding my lips and tongue to explore you.

Your breath catches in your throat as the images flood your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last. You can almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your collarbone, the way his tongue would flick against your sensitive flesh.

You: Please, Aaron. I need you now. I can't wait any longer.

Aaron: Patience, sweetheart. We'll meet soon, and when we do, I promise to fulfill your every desire.

As you read Aaron's response, a mix of relief and disappointment washes over you. You understand the need for caution, but the ache within you grows stronger with each passing minute. The desire to feel Aaron's touch, to have him consume you completely, becomes almost unbearable.

You: Okay, Aaron. I trust you.

Aaron: Good girl. Now, close your eyes and imagine my hands tracing circles on your thighs. Slowly inching higher, closer to where you crave me the most.

You follow his command, closing your eyes and allowing your mind to paint vivid images of his touch. The sensation of his warm hands on your thighs sends shivers down your spine as you imagine his fingers inching closer to your pulsating core.

You: Oh yes, Aaron. I can nearly feel your hands on me, the anticipation is almost unbearable. Every nerve ending in my body burns for your touch.

Aaron: That's it, my sweet girl. Imagine my fingers brushing against your wetness, teasingly circling your throbbing clit, driving you to the edge.

Your breath hitches in your throat. The images in your mind become more vivid, your body responding to the phantom touch that you crave with every fiber of your being.

You: Yes, Aaron. I can feel it. My body is on fire for you.

Aaron: I can practically see the uncontrollable desire in your eyes, sweet girl. I bet you look so pretty when you cum.

Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and frustration. The words exchanged between you and Aaron ignite a passionate flame within you, but the distance between you only fuels the longing for his touch. For now, you must find solace in the words that pass between you, allowing your imaginations to create a world where your desires can run wild.

You: I can't wait for the moment when this all becomes reality.

Aaron: It will be worth the wait, my sweet girl. Until then, tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Tell me what you want me to do to you.

You close your eyes, mind racing with a whirlwind of untamed thoughts and secret desires. With each passing moment, the explicit nature of your conversation with Aaron intensifies, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. The electrifying tension between you grows with every tantalizing word exchanged, pushing the boundaries of your imagination further than ever before. You find yourself under Aaron's spell, eager to confess the deepest, darkest corners of your desires.

You: Aaron, I want you to take control. I want to be at your mercy, to feel the weight of your dominance. Do with me as you please.

Aaron: My sweet girl, I will claim you as mine, marking every inch of your body with my touch.

Your body trembles in anticipation of your approaching orgasm. Every nerve ending tingles and pulses, craving the touch of Aaron's hands, his lips, his body against yours. The air is thick with desire as you imagine surrendering yourself to him completely. You slide two fingers into your pulsing heat, slowly thrusting them in and out, imagining Aaron was the one providing you such pleasure.

Aaron: Give yourself over to me. Let go sweetheart. I want to push you to your limits and then pull you back.

Your fingers move faster, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. The room seems to spin as you find yourself on the precipice of ecstasy. One final thrust of your fingers and you are sent hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure that crash over you like a tsunami.

As you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm, your breathing begins to steady, and the reality of the moment settles in.

You: Aaron...that was...beyond anything I could have imagined.

Aaron: This is only the beginning. There is so much more for us to explore when we are finally together.

You were growing more confident in whatever this was with him, but you were also becoming more and more frustrated at the fact that you had still yet to meet up with him. You had facetimed many times at this point. Calling one another regularly, to say good morning, to let you know he had landed safely, to tell him all about your day, and even to get one another off at the end of a long hard week.

He was extremely apologetic, given that his chaotic schedule was to blame for you having yet to meet in person. He had even gone as far as to let you know each day they didn’t have a case to see if you were free, but unfortunately as the new school year was approaching, you had become increasingly busier. You had been attending trainings for curriculum as well as the new program the school would be using to take attendance. You had also been going in to start setting up your classroom for a few hours each day.

When you weren’t at the school working on those things, you were at home writing lesson plans, making assignments, and getting your google classroom setup online. You had felt horrible that you had to decline dates, especially given that he finally had time for them, but Aaron was so sweet, assuring you that it was okay. You told him that once the school year started things would be easier since there wouldn’t be so much to prep anymore and once again Aaron let you know that he understood.

Time had flown by; Aaron and you had been talking and doing whatever this was for nearly two months. Many things had been exchanged between the two of you, promises of exclusivity (without labels for now), explicit messages, talks of the future, nude photos, hopes and dreams, amongst many other things. Since that night, you and Aaron had shared many explicit conversations that had ultimately led to some of the best orgasms you’d ever given yourself. You we genuinely surprised at how quickly you had felt comfortable with a man you’ve never actually met, but him facetiming you regularly helped, you supposed. It was scary to think you could be falling for this man so early on.

Shaking the thought out of your mind you checked your phone, only to see a missed call from Aaron, as well as a voicemail. It made you smile to yourself, nobody you knew left voicemails anymore, they always followed a missed call with a text.

VM <Aaron>: Hey sweetheart, you must be busy, but I wanted to see if you were free this Saturday. I know you have some stuff going on at the school this week, but I thought since you are off, and I just found out it is a mandatory off day for the team, it might be a good time for us to finally go out.

Aaron’s voicemail made you giddy, because him having a mandatory day off on the weekend was rare (as he previously informed you). They tend to fall in the middle of the week between cases to allow the agents a break. But a Saturday! One of your days off – this meant you could finally go on your date! You quickly clicked your phone app, scrolled to his contact, and hit the call button.

“Hotchner.” Aaron said.

“Hey baby!” You greeted.

“Oh, hi sweetheart! I take it you got my voicemail?”

“I did, and I am totally free on Saturday! Were you thinking dinner?”

“Well Jack is with his grandpa on Saturday, so I thought maybe we could spend the whole day together? I have a feeling once I see you, I’m not going to want to let you out of my sight for a bit.” Aaron explained.

“First of all, same! Second of all, I would love to spend the day with you, maybe we could go to the farmer’s market in the morning? I could get some stuff to make us dinner. What do you think?” You questioned.

“Perfect! Alright, well it is getting late, and I know you have a busy day at the school tomorrow, so I am going to let you go. Have a good night sweet girl.”

“Tomorrow won’t be as bad as Thursday, but you are right it is getting late. Goodnight handsome! Text me when you get up?” You asked, hopeful.

“You are going to do great on Thursday, the parents are going to love you. And I will text you first thing!”

With that, you hung up. Aaron was sweet trying to ease your mind of your anxieties. You knew realistically that your meet the teacher night on Thursday would be fine and that there really was no reason to fret, but alas, here you are letting it eat you up.

The next three days passed in a blur, Aaron had been consulting on a case from the Quantico office, something about it not being enough information to warrant travel. You had been finishing up all your last-minute decorations and lesson prep. You also needed to make your slideshow that you would review during meet the teacher.

It had been chaotic, but you managed to get everything completed on time and Aaron had actually helped that precinct close their case. It had been a successful week, and now you on top of your back-to-school jitters, you also had nerves from your pending date. You told yourself to focus on one thing at a time, it would be easier that way.

Which leads you to right now…

Meet the teacher night was the most nerve-wracking and exciting night of the year, you wanted to make a good impression for all the parents, but you also needed to show the kids that you were a safe adult that they could trust who has curated an inviting and cozy space for them to express themselves and engage in learning.

You had spent the last week getting your classroom perfectly decorated and organized for this moment, and here it was finally happening. You waited, anxiously fidgeting with your sleeves as families made their way into your classroom, greeting them all as they entered. A parent had pulled you aside to talk about their child’s multitude of allergies when another family had walked in, presumably the last one if you had your count right. You excused yourself and made your way over to the father of this student and stopped dead in your tracks. You’d recognize him anywhere, you had memorized his face, arms, hands, broad shoulders and here he was in front of you now.

“Hi” it came out as a breath; you were stunned that he was here now.

“Hi, I had no idea you were Jack’s teacher. The email I got must’ve been your last name…” Aaron tried to explain.

“No, don’t worry about it, we hadn’t exchanged full names. I um maybe we should talk about this after.” You’d just remembered that you were in a room full of parents and your soon-to-be students.

“Right, that’s a good idea.” Aaron said as he made his way over to Jack and some woman.

Your stomach dropped as Aaron greeted the woman, clearly someone he was very familiar with. Had this all been a lie, the last two months. You zoned out, completely disassociated as you gave your presentation, welcoming the families, going over pickup/drop-off procedures, discussing how you would communicate with parents and going over the scope and sequence of the curriculum for this year.

As you spoke, you found your eyes drifting back to him. Your stomach dropping every time he meets your gaze. How dare he. How dare he smile at you like nothing is wrong, like he isn’t here with some other woman.

You made it halfway through the powerpoint which was a chance for parents to ask any questions that they had thus far. A few parents had asked about the school lunch program and what after-school activities they could anticipate throughout the year. Another parent asked about one of the board adopted reading curriculums and how it would be implemented – all tame so far. Then his hand went up. You steeled yourself before gesturing to him.

“Mr. Hotchner” You signaled him to ask his question.

“Yes, I wanted to know more about the art program here. Which classes are provided as the kids’ specials?”

“That’s a great question, our school has received a grant from the state for our arts program, it is one of the best in the U.S.. The students will participate in multiple specials throughout the week such as Art, Physical Education, Chorus, Computers, Robotics, Gardening, Band, and Dance. They will have two specials classes on every day of the week, save for Wednesdays, since those are half days.” You explained.

“Wow, that’s amazing, thank you!” Aaron smiled at you again.

You were proud of the fact that your school had the ability to have such a wide variety of electives to offer your students. Your heart swells when talking about it, knowing that you worked tirelessly to help lock in that grant for your school. Aaron’s smiley response, however, makes your stomach churn.

You continued throughout the last few slides, closed out your presentation and said your goodbyes, answering the few remaining questions while picking up stray crayons and cups scattered around the room. As you threw the last few cups in the trash you turned to see Aaron lingering in the back of the room alone.

There was a nagging feeling eating away at you. He surely didn’t have the audacity to come here with another woman. Not when you had spent the last two months sharing the most intimate parts of yourselves with one another. Granted he didn’t know it would be you, so maybe that was why he was here with her. All you wanted to do was grab your bag and get the hell out of here.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He started.

“Sooo, should we just ignore the fact that I’ve seen you naked? Just pretend like the last two months never happened. I don’t want to put Jack in an awkward position. And I certainly don’t want to come between you and your girlfriend.” You huffed.

“Woah, sweetheart, hold on. What are you talking about? As far as I am concerned the only person who I would call my girlfriend here is you, but obviously we haven’t discussed that and seeing as we are only just meeting now, I figured we’d go on our date before labeling anything. I don’t want to forget about any of this, I want to keep this going, see where it leads.” Aaron reached for your hand gently.

“Aaron, if you are seeing that woman you came here with then this has to end. I’m not looking to be a third, or to be your mistress. You can’t do that to her. You can’t do that to Jack!” You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his.

“Oh my god. No, that’s Jess, Jack’s aunt. I thought I told you about her. It’s Jack’s mom’s sister. The only person I want to see is you baby.” He reaches for you again.

This time you let him pull you into his embrace. You shake your head, feeling like an idiot for even thinking Aaron was capable of something so awful.

“I’m so stupid. Aaron I am so sorry!”

“Sweetheart it is okay! I can’t even imagine how it must’ve looked.” He pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I can’t believe you are actually here right now.” You whispered, pressing your face further into his chest.

Aaron squeezed you tighter, rubbing his hands up and down the expanse of your back. You took a deep breath in, savoring the smell of his cologne.

“You know, I could have Jess take Jack home, and maybe we could go grab a bite to eat?” Aaron suggested.

“Really?” You looked to him for confirmation.

Aaron replied with a subtle “mhmm” to which you nodded. He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and shot a quick text to Jess. He was sure to give her a brief explanation of the situation, this of course caused her to agree to take Jack for the night.

You should have known you wouldn’t even make it to dinner. Aaron had suggested going back to his place since it would be empty and ordering in. How could you say no, it was a brilliant idea.

The two of you barely made it through the door before your lips met in a fiery kiss, tugging at one another’s clothes. Aaron had picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carried you the rest of the way to the bedroom.

He gently laid you on the bed, holding his weight up by his elbows on either side of your head. He leans in to kiss you once more before pulling away entirely.

“Sweetheart, I want to make sure you really want this. I can wait and I don’t want you to think this is all I want because trust me I want you. All of you.” Aaron expressed.

“Aaron I want this, all of this with you.” You gently brushed your finger against his jaw.

With that, Aaron dove back in and kissed you with fervor. His hands gripping your plush thighs sliding up to your hips. Your hands reaching to unbutton his dress shirt, unsuccessfully so. Aaron’s hands come up to meet your own, he moves to remove his own shirt which allows you just enough space to remove your own. Garments are strewn about the room as Aaron leans down attaching his lips to the top of your breasts. His hands come up to grope them, your body arching into his touch. He tugs the lace down, exposing your nipple, it immediately perks to the cold air, and he attaches his mouth to it. You can’t help the gasp that releases from your throat. You card your fingers through his hair raking your nails against his scalp.

Aaron presses his hips to yours, allowing you to feel his growing length against your inner thigh. Heat courses through your body as your heart races. He undresses you with a slow, deliberate intent, unhooking your bra and allowing your breasts to bounce free. The vulnerability of it all makes you feel alive, desired, cherished.

Your hands explore his body, his muscles hard and defined under your touch. You run your fingers across the faint lines of scars, evidence of his journey, the stories he's lived. You gently trace them, feeling his rough skin, the warmth emanating from him. You feel like you know him, like you've been waiting for this moment your entire life.

He stands, his eyes locked with yours. He reaches down, unbuckling his jeans and sliding them down his legs. Your eyes follow the movement, taking in every inch of his body, he is standing before you, naked and exposed. You feel a wave of desire wash over you, a fiery need to be closer to him. Your hands reach for him, your fingers brushing against the curve of his hips, the muscles in his thighs, the hard line of his abdomen. You run your fingertips along the slight indent of his navel, and he lets out a low groan.

Your body is alive with desire, every breath you take sharper, every touch more electric. You know this moment will be etched in your memory forever, the beginning of something beautiful. And as you take his hand, pulling him back to the bed, you know that this is where your story will unfold, a story of passion, love, and a bond that will last a lifetime.

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focusfixated · 9 days ago

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so yes i did go see paul mccartney in paris two weeks ago with my sis because we couldn't get tickets to the london shows, but yesterday the clouds parted, the angels sang and we were blessed with a christmas miracle (last minute face-value resale tickets) and managed to go to the gig last night after all.

seeing beloved bands and artists in other countries or cities is all well and good when access is limited, but there is nothing like seeing someone in your home town. "how are you doing tonight, london?" and you can yell back, yes, i'm doing mighty fucking fine, thanks for asking.

the highlights of the night:

the girl next to me on her feet with us the whole show belting every single word out

the rendition of wonderful christmastime and my sis grabbing me by the shoulders and yelling DO YOU TAKE IT BACK. DO YOU TAKE IT BACK. (it: my aversion to christmas music and my claim in JEST that paul has only ever done two things wrong in his life* and one of them is WC)

paul forgetting to play my valentine at the piano and his drummer abe emphatically miming a heart to remind him and paul saying, "i thought he was saying that he loved me!"

paul's absolutely camp imitation of a muscular, flexing man during the "just the fellas" section of hey jude [ETA i have been reminded! @scurator : you forgot when he did a weird little camp wrist for "women" during hey jude and then panicked like "oh no wait that's Gays, not Women, they are not the same" and course-corrected with a little ~womanly shape]

paul standing quietly and staring out at the audience after some of the songs just to "take it in, for me"

paul, telling the story of writing blackbird : "when we played in jacksonville in the 60s they told us the audience would be segregated and we said if that was the case we wouldn't play" - audience: *clapping* - paul: "yay beatles!"

paul preemptively covering both his ears before the final explosion of live and let die, and then crossly miming "too loud" at everyone, and continuing to do so for the laughs as everyone in the audience hooted and hollered

paul talking about how they used to not be able to hear themselves play over the sounds of the audience, and requesting the crowd let out their own beatles scream to demonstrate (sister: "wow, felt good to let that out, actually")

a flag for ireland in the flag parade

a second opportunity to enjoy i got a feeling which simply is my favourite beatles song of all time

paul thanking his amazing band, and saying how talented they all are, "and not a sign of AI among them."

the final bow, the whole band holding hands and then simultaneously doing a sprightly jump up all together

anyway. just an incredible show by the best to ever do it, the one true king, my lesbian wife, my favourite old man. feeling blessed this christmas.

* the other one is the frog chorus song and apart from that paul has never done a single thing wrong in his life

#paul mccartney #got back tour

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m1ssunderstanding · 4 months ago

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Notes on Nowhere Boy

Finally posting the long version of the close-watch I did for @sleeper9's Fete zine. The bad thing about me is I hate spending money and love pirating shitty quality versions of movies. The good thing about the Beatles fandom is we're used to dealing with grainy pics. Anyways, here goes!

The opening ten seconds really do set the tone for the film, and here's why. It's the opening of A Hard Day’s Night where the boys are running from a hoard of screaming fans and George biffs it. John sees him go down, laughs, and keeps running. Only here, it's just John. George’s fall has been erased, making John into a cocky, if slightly insane, little lone hero.

Mimi: do I ignore you? No. So please don't ignore me. Me: ummm, yeah you do ignore him, Mimi. Enough to leave deep psychological scars. But it's fine. Moving on.

Ugh, Uncle George is so sweet! I wonder how much of John's sweetness he learned from him. I wish we knew more about him.

Actually that was Jim that set up a cord running into Paul's room from the radio downstairs. But it fits Uncle George's character, so it works.

Why did they make Mendips look a lot more working class than it actually was? No fancy iron fence, no pretty hexagonal outcropping, no stained glass veranda?

Aaron Taylor Johnson is nailing it though. The laugh sounds very John, and this posture? Perfect.

Okay but if that doesn't heartbreakingly encapsulate John and Mimi I don't know what does. Uncle George has just died. John goes to Mimi, wraps her from behind in a tight embrace and lets out a sob. Her response is to push him away. “Please, let's not be silly. If you want to do that, go to your room.” Alright, it's making me feel things, it's winning me over.

John making his cousin Stan go and ask Mimi where Julia is is also extremely accurate. Always had someone to do the dirty work for them, all of them.

Mimi's concern as John's going to visit his mother in the “bad” part of town is very good to have in too. “And you will be careful, hmm? Careful who you talk to.” And John's response, “it's only Blackpool, Mimi.” It's true. It could've been Speke, or the Dingle. Which Quarryman did I read saying Mimi didn't like John even leaving Woolton?

John's hurt little face when he finds out his mum, all this time, has been less than a bus ride away is a very clever way to show us his painful confusion about the whole situation.

Trying to remind myself that this is a very anti-Julia pro-Mimi movie that will try to make me think she's crazy. But it sure is doing a hell of a good job. She hasn't seen him in years and suddenly she's hand feeding him desserts, kissing him every chance she's got, flirting all over the place. “Do you know what it means? Rock and Roll? Sex.” “Don't tell Mimi, alright? This is our little secret. Promise me.” And to a poor affection-starved boy, that's going to feel good. That's going to put thoughts in his head like “this is how it should be”. I mean I know she was wild and fun and sexy and irresponsible. And I know John did have weird thoughts about her. But I hope she wasn't actually this crazy.

But the weird Freudian thing aside, he's got to be so terribly confused hearing the woman who effectively abandoned him declaring her love for him. Between Mimi and Julia, John would've had such a messed up idea of what that word meant.

The Daily Howl, my absolute beloved!!

Nowhere Boy John watching Elvis: damn I've gotta get the girls screaming for me like that! Actual John watching Elvis: he's so beautiful! He's perfect! I'm in love!

Also I do not think sixteen year old John was that good at fingering. Just saying.

This part always drops my heart cold into my stomach. Poor John. Poor poor baby. You can hear his little boy voice calling, “mum? It's me.” And she mutters, very annoyed, “go away.” Again. I have to remind myself that this is a purposely negative portrait of Julia. But then. It is true that she was a mostly absent and wholly undependable figure in John's life.

Sometimes dialogue is absolutely perfect. Like this – “Aw, why couldn't God make me Elvis Presley?” “Cause he was saving you for John Lennon.” “Aw I'll get you back for that, God!” And this – “you haven't told Mimi, have you?” “No point going through her bullocks if I don't have to.” “Why? She has to go through yours.” “Yeah well I never asked her to, did I?”

Ugh this whole movie just hurts so bad! How he looks to Julia as Mimi is ordering him out of her house, just begging her to claim him this time. And she doesn't until he makes a stand for himself. And then, later. “How long can I stay?” Is met with nothing. Not even a fake “long as you want, love.” It really plays into the title of the film. This boy's got nowhere to call home. And then, the final straw. Look at his face as he hears Julia agree that he does in fact need to go back to Mimi's. If I did that kind of thing, I'd actually be crying right now. Fuck, why was I knit-picking, this movie is working so well.

As he's announcing he's leaving Julia's, John wants her to tell him to stay. To at least pretend it's not what she wants. And she doesn't even look at him. Imagine if they did something like this in the John biopic mirrored with a scene with Paul in the breakup?

He's just so adorable looking at that guitar like he can't believe it's real.

John's gathered the og Quarrymen in the bathroom and Pete goes “I take it we're not here for a communal crap.” Idk Pete, wouldn't put it past him. It's not far off what you all do already.

It's making the Quarrymen look kinda cool here, and I really want them all to be shit except John, just because that's what I get from Paul's description. Not that he's biased or anything. He could've been watching John play with Elton John and David Bowie and he'd still say everyone faded into the background.

Also Mimi would Not have been there. Not on her life.

Okay now we're sort of seeing them from Paul's perspective. Bunch of losers surrounding this inimitable shining star.

Accurate that the first thing John says to Paul is about jerking off.

The dynamic in general is just so well-done in this first scene. John instantly testing Paul. How much shit will he put up with? And Paul instantly having none of it, showing off, and winning John over.

All the other Quarrymen just know it's time to dust off the ole resume.

But! Paul's fete “audition” is so toned down for this film. Although of course, accounts vary. He did 20 flight rock, yeah. But he also did it on someone's borrowed right hand guitar turned upside down. And he did little Richard and played the piano, and tuned John's guitar for him. In one telling of it, John says he asked him to be in the group right there on the spot. So. Yeah.

But either way, watching John watch Paul is just gorgeously gay. It's giving extreme “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” It's actually illegal not to queerbate using Lennon/McCartney and I'm glad all moviemakers seem to understand the law.

Cut to “John, your little friend's here!” Can you imagine if they'd showed the “chalk and cheese” whirling dervish moment? Or Mimi making Paul use the back door? Those might change some thoughts and feelings in this movie.

And then we get the reciprocated “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” Moment as Paul's too busy checking out John’s buddy Holly Look to remember where he is, let alone what cord they're on. And it's so sweet because Paul's the first person who gives John the idea that his real self is actually cooler than his tough-guy act.

The little matching feet tapping?? Eee it's so cute!

But why miss the opportunity for them to sing in harmony here?

Sometimes the dialogue is extremely inaccurate. “So mummy’s cool about baby Paul wanting to be Elvis?” “Oh she would've loved it.” Like hell she would've. She would've been as disapproving as Mimi. Then again, maybe it is accurate for Paul to be lying about that.

“Well she – she sort of – died. You know, em. If we're gonna do this we should write our own stuff.” Okay yep there he is. That's Paul.

Also love how John gets his first calluses after Paul the bossy taskmaster comes into his life. (You know. And the reason to push himself and a person who cares enough to take the time to show him things and it makes John all dreamy staring at the stars that night etc) Anyway. It's perfect.

And the first gig we see after Paul joins is in a venue on a real stage with a much bigger audience, and the matching suits of course.

Mimi selling John's guitar because of a bad report card is like the lighter, kinder translation of what happened in reality when she had his dog put down while he was staying at Julia's.

So they kinda make up for not letting Paul sing etc by having him nail the guitar instead of screw up at this gig like he did irl.

And he's stealing Julia's attention, which is clearly Not okay with John. Reminds me of that quote of Paul's about how they were both in love with John's mum.

George is appropriately infantile. Good. Cutie.

The Quarrymen playing “That's Alright, Mama” as John's making up with Julia since she bought his guitar back for him. Okay. Very clever.

Paul does Not like John disrespecting his mother after the show for obvious reasons. (“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”) But clearly he doesn't have the full picture here. I wonder at what point irl Paul got a full run-down from John on his messed-up family life. Or did he just have to pull it together piece by piece over the years?

And of course he jumps to light Julia's cigarette. Boy was patting his pocket for a lighter like it was the race of his life. Mister steal your mum.

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney’s number two complaint about this movie: John was Not taller than him. How dare they? Slander.

That's one hell of a jacket.

At the party, John's of course pissed to find Paul serenading Julia in the kitchen. But Paul just wants a mommy so bad, John. Why can't you just let him have yours since you clearly don't want her? Right, because you really, really do. More than anyone can understand. But when you showed her that – how bad you wanted her to be your mum, not just a friend – she hurt you. Forced you to go through your abandonment all over again. So now you can't show that anymore.

The washboard over Pete's head is almost exactly accurate, isn't it? John does not handle people leaving him well.

Ugh his little voice cracking on the word “mum.” John Lennon is a poor poor baby and I will die on that hill.

I wonder how John did find out about Victoria and the real story of why he was with Mimi. No matter how, though, that's certainly a lot of mess for a young man to be carrying around with him all the time in his head.

“When your father came back from the merchant Navy, he wanted to try and save the marriage, but your mother would have none of it.” I do feel like we're going with Alf’s version of events here, the one he sold John in order to get into his good graces after he was famous. Which is, again, not fair to Julia. I wonder how little Julia feels about this movie.

In fact, I think this part – “who do you wanna be with, John? Do you wanna be with me or do you wanna be with your mum?” – has been categorically disproven. But it certainly does make for some high drama. And John himself did believe his father's story, so there has to be at least some emotional truth there.

Nowhere Boy John: There's no point in hating someone you love. I mean really love. IRL John: How do you sleep, you cunt?!

There he is. Art School John. Though he fell in love with every iteration of John, I think this one never left his head because he was one of the earliest Johns, and he was a John Paul had to fight for, you know, with all the Stu business and dead mother anger.

He really does an excellent job of playing John, though, when he's written right. “Woman took her kit off and we painted her breasts. Not actually physically. I got my eye on you two.” Ridiculous. Charming. Off- putting. Adorable.

Ignoring the fact that I prefer to think of “Hello, Little Girl” as being about Paul (“you never seem to see me standing there”) and they're making it about Julia, this is a lovely scene. With John somewhat unsure still of his songwriting abilities and Paul looking up at him from the floor full of admiration.

Oh he's gonna murder someone. To be fair, I think playing Julia's banjo at her funeral is exactly the type of insensitive thing Paul would do, because he just thinks and feels in music and it makes Sense to him even though of course it's going to piss John off.

Hilarious, and probably accurate tbh, that Paul's pissed John off so he gives Pete a bloody nose.

But here we go, the number one complaint about this movie from Paul, which I think is actually valid. John never hit him and that was important to both of them and it's disrespectful to portray it and play into the myth of their rocky, angry relationship.

But maybe in 2009 that's what it took for them to be able to show John Lennon and Paul McCartney in a genuine, loving embrace, crying into each other's necks about mothers. It has to be preceded by John punching Paul in the mouth.

If I was John's writing partner, my biggest beef with this movie would actually be the scene where they're recording ISOATD and making it look like John wrote it and played the guitar solo. But Paul's never even mentioned it. Which I guess really shows he cares far more about the legacy of his relationship with John than his career legacy. Which. If you mean more to Paul McCartney than his fucking music? Well then you must be just about important enough to have your own movie.

This is really the Vote for Mimi Smith campaign, isn't it? Putting across the screen the fact that John called Mimi every week until he died as “Mother” plays in the background is brutal. Ouch. But it's true. “It's Mimi time.”

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #george harrison #nowhere boy

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bambi-kinos · 5 months ago

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Why do you think Paul keeps saying to this day that John was really sweet. He really wasn't. He treated everyone like shit including Paul. Because he feel he has to? Because he was killed and people made him into something he wasn't? I don't blame John for this ). Or but because he was in love with him and that's what he remembers. John doesn"t deserve it. He's even overrated. Both P and G was/is better. I just don't get how someone like Paul who's a better man, artist and person keeps giving J so much credit. I'm not a new fan of the Beatles or Paul. I really can only see it that he was in love with him.

What else is Paul supposed to do?

Idk man I think Paul is just doing his best with what he has. He's never going to get closure on their relationship. He's never going to get an explanation that satisfies him. So he has to work with what he's got.

You have the wrong end of the stick on this, Paul isn't trying to give John credit that he hasn't earned. Paul is trying to move on from what John did to him by focusing on the good moments and remembering who John was before he was brain damaged by heroin and LSD. If your boyfriend has a TBI that changes his entire personality, is that really your boyfriend anymore? Is he really still himself? These are the questions Paul has wrestled with and it looks like he's realized he's never going to get an answer.

So he's focusing on what he does know which is that the John he knew and fell in love with was a sweet kid who sometimes let his insecurities rule him. But he was still a loving person who cared about Paul and was his closest friend for years.

Furthermore: if John was actually the raging dickhead that the internet thinks he is then he would not have had any friends to begin with. People with truly no redeeming characteristics who are assholes all the time don't get friends who defend them even after they die. The truth is that John was not actually a prick all of the time. Otherwise no one could have stood being around him. Paul calls John sweet because he knew the John that was a sweet guy, the guy that Paul loved.

You're also falling for John's own propaganda a bit. John never stopped projecting the image of being a cynical hard bitten street tough that intimidated everyone into submission with his temper. John occasionally admitted that all of this was an act (see his comments at playacting the Teddy Boy image while not actually being a gang member and why he felt he had to do it.)

But the truth is he never stopped projecting the "I'm an asshole you better not fuck with me" thing. All of this "I'm an irredeemable asshole I hate George and Paul!!!" is pure fakery. The very qualities you don't like were fabricated in large part by Yoko as part of a propaganda campaign, and from what I've read in the Dakota Years memoirs, this propaganda was out of John's control from the moment he started the Lennon Remembers interviews. John is just as much a victim of information warfare as Paul is, he just reacted to it differently and used it to barricade himself away from Paul.

That doesn't mean you have to like John or feel sorry for him or agree with Paul's decisions to try and leave the damage behind. You are reacting to the fact that Paul is visibly in pain when he talks about this stuff. He's bleeding in public and there's nothing no one can do to help him. The wounds are permanent. It is, in fact, rage inducing. John isn't here to speak for himself and try to explain. What else can we do as observers except be angry.

But Paul McCartney is 82 years old.

He's close to the end.

He doesn't want to do that, doesn't have time for it, doesn't want to spend his last years rehashing this shit.

Is there an alternative for him? All he can do now is try to make peace with it while he's alive and then he can finally get closure with John when he moves on to the next stop.

Paul doesn't call John 'sweet' for the sake of John's image. He does it to remind himself of the boy he fell in love with in 1957. Because he doesn't have a lot of time left and he wants to spend it being in love with John, not being angry at him. Paul is doing this for Paul. Simple as.

#paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #anonymous asks #my meta #beatles meta #post break up #gotta knock a little harder

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harrisonarchive · 5 months ago

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Photo of George (from 1969) by John Haynes; photo 2 (of Doris Troy) via Google.

“Work initially began at George’s home [Kinfauns] in high summer 1969 with help from Billy Preston, before Doris and George went into the studio proper, probably in late September [with Klaus Voormann, Stephen Stills, Ringo, Peter Frampton, Eric Clapton, Rita Coolidge, and more]. […] Harrison co-wrote four of the songs [‘Ain’t That Cute’ and ‘Give Me Back My Dynamite’ are Harrison-Troy co-written; Harrison-Troy-Starkey-Stills co-written songs were ‘Gonna Get My Baby Back’ and ‘You Give Me Joy Joy’] on Doris Troy, arranged the traditional, ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ with Troy […]. When the album was reissued Troy said, ‘Doing that album was a reminder that “soul” didn’t have a color.’” - udiscovermusic.com, January 6, 2019 “George is the greatest as far as I’m concerned. As a musician he is fine and he’s already a good producer, but I think his real bag would be as a missionary or leader of people. He has a great heart and soul, a really beautiful person who is able to communicate peace and joy.” - Doris Troy, Record Mirror, January 1, 1972 “I think [George] had been involved in soul music for years — he listened to it, he loved it, and that’s what made him want to do it. I wasn’t actually introducing him to the stuff, he already knew it. The Beatles as a whole listened to black music, a lot of their soul and feelings came from American music.” - Doris Troy, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison (2003) “[George] was like a perfectionist. He wanted every note to be exactly right. To me, he didn’t have to take that long. We could have knocked it out and just went for the feel of it, you now? But he would take into a solo, man, and take hours to get the solo right. I’m not knocking him or anything; it’s just that that’s the way he was.” - Doris Troy, Unknown Legends of Rock ‘n’ Roll (1998) (x)

#Doris Troy #George Harrison #Billy Preston #et al.#quote #quotes about George #1969 #1960s #harrison productions #(if you haven't already please be sure to check out Doris Troy's Apple album)#fits queue like a glove

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romancingdaffodils · 5 months ago

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Something.

He say, “I know you, you know me”

Remus Lupin x gn!reader

warnings: umm, nothing yet really. Reader wears a dress and there's cigarettes smoking. Is set in 70s UK! (Biblically accurate collars and there will be talk about the riots back then )

Hey! Have you missed me? I bet you didn't expect my return with a 5k word long fic about our lovely Remus. There's more chapters to come, I just wanted to lay the foundations for something new. The titles have been stolen from: Something - The Beatles and Come Together - The Beatles

I can't really explain the plot as it doesn't actually exist yet, but for this chapter: Black family ball - reader makes her formal society debut: joins forces with the other teens there. Its a bit crappy really, but it will get better I promise. I'm just a little rusty. Just know they are magical but aren't yet back at Hogwarts.

Debutant. You were a debutant at a Black ball. You were making your debut in front of the entire Black family, and every other powerful wizarding family. To phrase it as simply as possible: you were bricking it. Your dress was widely uncomfortable and you hardly moved for fear of the corset breaking and tearing you to shreds. Every piece of jewellery that hung upon your body made you feel as though you were a Christmas tree. You’d been primped and preened like a tree - styled to the taste of your homeowner. You were merely being placed on display to impress other families, like a tree.

1977.

Your hands were shaking as you sat in the car beside your stepfather - whose name was William. The man who had turned you from the daughter of the best dragonologist the wizarding world had seen to a Christmas tree. You were his very own all-year-long Christmas tree.

A small sigh left your lips as the car stopped outside of the Black mansion. Then, a larger sigh followed. You screwed your eyes shut before reminding yourself it was one night and then you were safe for a few weeks. Safe from the sheer embarrassment of debuting. You knew no ‘respectable’ wizarding family would see you as legitimate due to your lineage. The only reason your stepfather had enforced your debut was to protect his own image. He had been from a respectable family but had failed to realise marrying a woman far poorer and smarter than him would damage his reputation. He simply wanted you to have the best of both worlds. Even if that meant being a year-long Christmas tree. You understood that, to an extent. However, you couldn’t understand why he had insisted you debuted at a Black ball - especially as it was just before school restarted. You knew the Blacks from Hogwarts. Each and every one of them were popular in their own regard. Sirius Black was actually popular. The rest were just feared. However, if you embarrassed yourself at this ball you knew none of them would ever let you live it down. With Sirius being part of the infamous ‘marauders’, the teasing would be relentless. Nobody wanted to make an enemy out of them. Fortunately, you were almost completely certain not one of the group knew your name. You were rather good at blending into the background despite sharing many classes with them. You had sat next to James in potions during your fifth year. However, Lily Evans had sat on the table beside yours so he never really paid attention to you. It had stung a little at the time - to be ignored by someone so influential. But, part of you had learned to love not being seen by them because you were certain you couldn’t handle the fate of Severus Snape or Lily Evans. You had your own small group of friends; you were happy. Invisible, but happy.

Alas, you cannot stay simply content forever. And, something was telling you that tonight would change the course of your future forever. Perhaps it was your hormonal teenage brain being over dramatic. Or maybe, just maybe, you could change your path in life after today.

Your stepfather helped you out of the car. The house was huge. You would describe it as a mansion. It was made from a stunning grey stone. Each window was perfectly carved out with swirls and edges. Pillars crawled across the front of the house, holding up the foyer. It clearly had ancient Roman and Greek influences alongside being an English gothic manor. As you moved closer towards the home you made it your mission to absorb each detail. There were gargoyles where the foyer met the wall. They looked down at you with contorted faces. One side of the house had a small sprig of ivy crawling up its walls. You had no doubt that would be quickly dealt with. You were then greeted by the doormen who led the two of you through a back entrance up to the second floor. Apparently, it was a Black tradition to have any debutants walk down the grand staircase as their entrance - you know, just to really display the Christmas tree. Your stepfather squeezed your interlocked arms. It didn’t really help your nerves. You and large staircases had never particularly agreed. In fact, anyone who knew you would probably campaign to keep you as far away from staircases as possible. This was due to a rather embarrassing fall down the stairs during your first year at Hogwarts. You were extraordinarily fortunate in that only your friends had seen it. It was now a longstanding inside joke. Your legs felt like jelly with each step you took towards the grand staircase. The doormen stood beside the grand doors. The doors had gold painted around the edges and were clearly a very expensive dark oak. It all made you feel very poor. It had engravings that looked like branches reaching out towards you. You turned your head to your stepfather, who nodded at you. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other after the car left your home driveway. Your name was announced by one of the house elves downstairs. You couldn’t quite believe it was 1977 and they had actual doormen - you were trying to rationalise this by assuming it was a tradition for balls.

The doors swung open. The pair of you walked towards the stairs. You inhaled, and then exhaled. Each shaky step was a step towards finding the buffet table and filling yourself up on expensive chocolates or so you told yourself. You descended the stairs and your eyes scanned the room. Your dress dragged along behind you. Everyone was dressed similarly. Classy ball gowns, expensive silk gloves and tuxedos tailored to a t were all you could see. Then, your eyes landed on a rather odd-looking bunch of people. One was wearing a leather jacket, one a proper tuxedo, one was wearing a tux that was slightly too short and the other seemed to have lost his suit jacket and waistcoat. Suddenly, it dawned on you. It was the marauders. All four were here. And, all four were staring directly at you. Everyone was staring at you. You were clinging onto your stepfather for dear life by this moment. You continued to force a grin as your eyes surveyed the room once again. You locked eyes with a girl in a blue dress. Your own thoughts thanked Merlin as you looked down at her. An ally. Alice Fortescue. Never before had such a great sigh of relief left your lips. You were now able to admire the attire of the room. Brightly coloured tuxedos and oversized collars made you feel at home - it felt like being back in muggle England. The comfort of knowing you weren’t alone allowed you to make it down the stairs without falling. You were then led towards Orion Black, the one hosting the ball. You nodded your head respectfully as William thanked him. You thanked him also, attempting to appear as polite as possible. William kept your arms interlinked as he whisked you around the room to ‘mingle’. You met and thanked countless Black family members for their ‘most gracious invite’ that you were supposedly ‘honoured to have been given’. It became repetitive and slightly exhausting after the fifth person. William then introduced you to the Potters. And, Merlin, they simply exuded rich. Fleamont was kind and jolly: clearly coming from old money. His tux was not at all in the 70s style, but was much rather timeless and extremely classy. Euphemia wore delicate jewellery and a simple dress that screamed and shouted the word elegance. She had complimented your dress. You felt like a fool standing beside her. She was absolutely breathtaking in both appearance and character. Euphemia had also asked if you knew James. You replied with ‘kind of’. She said he probably wasn’t your type of person; he was too much of a troublemaker. You laughed politely.

Then, once you deemed it appropriate and William had found some old friends to converse with - you escaped. Weaving through the crowd, you moved towards the spot where you had spotted Alice.

“Alice! Oh thank Merlin you are h--“ you cut yourself off. Yes, Alice was standing there looking overjoyed at your presence. However, she had company. Her boyfriend - Frank, who you didn’t mind, had his arm wrapped around her waist. And, yes, Frank was okay but, he played quidditch. Gryffindor quidditch meant he brought along the very people you were set on avoiding. Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. They were all smiling at you. Remus tilted his head down at you - he was standing the closest to you.

“Oh! Don’t you just look stunning. I thought I was going to have to spend the night with these idiots. I am SO glad you’re here! I can’t even believe my family got an invite. Panda is here somewhere too—“ Alice said, all very excitedly. She was then cut off.

“We haven’t met before, I’m Sirius Black,” Sirius said, offering out his hand. You assumed (quite correctly) that he was attempting to flirt with you. Naturally, your instinct was to shut him down.

“I know. I’ve been in your classes for the past 6 years. Actually, I sat in front of you in transfiguration last year.” you stated, deadpanning at him. Everyone in your little group froze, not quite sure how to react to that. Apart from one. Remus Lupin - who laughed. He laughed quite heavily.

“Nice one, Pads,” he stated, rolling his eyes. You often forgot Remus was Welsh. You wished he spoke more often - he was the only tolerable one of the group. You wondered why he had just called Sirius ‘Pads’, but decided to keep questions to yourself. “Well don’t act like you know who she is!” Sirius spat back, like a true diva. Remus shook his head and opened his mouth to answer. He was interrupted by the ever-booming voice of James Potter.

“Oh, Merlin! I know who you are! I sat next to you in fifth year- potions, right?! I remember because you told me that if I wanted Lily to talk to me I should get her to tutor me. Smartest idea ever.”

“Sounds like it was just an excuse to get you to shut up in lesson.” Peter said, shrugging his shoulders. This earned him a jab in the arm from James, who rolled his eyes.

“Do any of you actually know my name?” you replied, sarcastically. You didn’t expect much. Clearly, neither did Alice as she had already interlocked arms with you; she was ready to make an escape.

Remus said it. Very softly. It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “One of us has to pay attention to the rest of the world.” he added, a little bit louder. You raised your eyebrow at him, but Alice had already started to drag you away. You looked back at him, feeling extremely confused alongside conflicted. Why did he know your name? Part of you said it was just someone actually acknowledging your existence, but you really couldn’t believe it. So, once again you asked yourself ‘why the fuck does he know me?’.

You smiled as Panda told a story - it was something about her summer adventures. You’d been a little too distracted with the expensive chocolates to listen fully but, you were sure it was extremely entertaining. You liked Pandora. She was a little whimsical, but extremely smart. She was not one to be messed with and seemed to have rather unlimited confidence. It was infectious. Alice had also offered up a catchup of her own summer. As expected, she had spent many a day with Frank. You thought the pair were adorable. You were certain they’d remain together no matter what. She had retold a story about visiting Cornwall with Frank’s family. To be completely honest, you were jealous. One, of the fact they had managed to have good weather and two, of how truly sweet their relationship was. You didn’t think it was possible for two people so you to be so in love. It was impressive.“Why don’t we go into the gardens? Or do you need to mingle more?’ Panda asked, looking at you. You smiled and shook your head. It appeared William was doing all the mingling for you and you’d much rather avoid the potential for any embarrassment in front of such a crowd. You had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Let's go, get me out of here! I don’t know if I can stand this company any longer.” Alice joked, you smiled and followed behind the two of them as they walked.

The gardens were beautiful. All kinds of flowers sprouted from the plant pots. Rose bushes lined the outside. You wondered what spell they had used to keep the flowers in bloom. You had no doubt it was at a large inconvenience to the house elves. Your hands gently dragged over the petals of one of the roses. It was a gorgeous deep red colour. It reminded you of the flowers from fairytales. Alice and Luna were sat on a bench, still chatting. You had found yourself with no choice but to admire the stunning plants. There were archways coated in ivy. Orange trees, with flowers that smelt simply divine. And, your own favourite, daffodils. They were tucked away in the corner, but had still made it into the garden alongside a mix of wildflowers.

A rustling came from one of the archways, and yet again - the marauders popped out. However, this time they had increased in numbers. With the addition of Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadows they were now ten times more intimidating. They had also gained the stowaway of Frank, who had clearly just been on the lookout for Alice. You looked over, examining each one of them. You then decided that to be their friend you had to be a supermodel. You just couldn’t believe that a group of teenage friends were so absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. And, yet, here they were.

And then, they all started talking. So easily. Conversation flowed, cigarettes were passed out and drinks were shared. James and Peter sat on the floor; Sirius leaned against the wall and the rest sat across the two benches. You stayed in the corner, admiring the plants. That was until you received a tap on the shoulder. You turned your head. Stood behind you was Remus Lupin, holding out a cig and lighter.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, smiling softly as you placed the cigarette between your lips. You cupped the lighter with your hand as you lit it and then passed his lighter back to him.

“Not a fan of Sirius, then?” he asked, letting out a puff of smoke. He then turned to look at you. He had moved to stand next to you as he placed the lighter back into his trouser pocket. He must’ve discarded his blazer some point after your arrival because he was now left in just his shirt (which actually fit) and trousers. His trousers were a little bit too short but, you could only see it because of Williams's expert lessons in proper tailoring.

“I think his head is a little bit too far up his own arse is all. I don’t dislike him.” you responded. Remus laughed a little, shaking his head. You blew out some smoke. You hadn’t managed to get your hands on a cigarette since before summer. Merlin, this was nice.

“I don’t think you’re the only one who thinks that. He’s alright - most of the time.” he replied, looking over at you once again. You had only just realised who you were talking to - his best friend. He didn’t really seem to mind. You decided to just play it off and hope for the best.

“We’ve never spoken before.” you said, so much for playing it off.

“No, we haven’t.”

“How do you know my name?”

“One of the Hufflepuff parties - I was sat with Alice. I was trying to help sober her up. You came over to take her to bed. I think I said she was fine - you said ‘And how would you know that? You don’t even know our names’. That was in 4th year.” he replied, letting out another cloudy exhale. You nodded, the memories coming flooding back to you. You laughed: a little embarrassed at your rudeness and a little impressed by how brash you had been.

“Yeah, I’m not the best when I’m tired. Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologise - you were right. So, I made sure I knew your names after that. Plus, you always sat on the table across from us at lunch.”

“Oh. Hey - that’s my thing. I watch the other tables.” you replied, jokingly.

Remus chuckled lightly, nodding his head. “I’m sure you do.” he said, tilting his head.

“No, really. It’s how we found out Frank liked Alice, because he was always staring at her.”

“That’s actually quite impressive.”

“North or South Wales?”

“What?” “Where are you from, north or south?” you asked, looking up at him. You took a small drag from the cigarette.

“North.”

“That’s where my grandma used to live! Sorry, I knew I recognised the northern accent.”

“Take it you’re from Northern England, then?”

“Northwest. Best place to be.”

“Home of the Beatles.”

You nodded and then smiled. “Who is your favourite?”

“George Harrison.” Remus replied, lifting an eyebrow at him. You’d placed such an emphasis on the question - which made it appear make or break for your conversation.

“Good choice, mines Ringo. Do you like music, then?”

“Can’t keep away from it.”

“Bowie?” “The best of the best.”

“HE IS! Hunky Dory is my favourite.” you exclaimed, a little over excitedly. Remus seemed genuinely interested in your music talk. Only one of your friends shared this interest; it was nice to have someone else to talk to about it.

“Ziggy Stardust for me. Hunk Dory is exceptional though.”

“You seem like the Ziggy Stardust type.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you like the Sex Pistols? Ooh, have you ever heard of Squeeze? Do you like the Clash? Blondie? The Jam? The Who?”

“Yes. No, but I’d be happy to listen. Yes, yes, yes and yes.”

You were resisting the temptation to scream. You looked up at him, jaw slack. Your eyes were quite literally sparkling. “Where have you been all this time?”

“At the table across from you.” he said, raising his eyebrows at you. You snorted and shook your head.

“I collect records. You’re more than welcome to borrow some.”

“I’m honoured. Would it be possible for me to listen to some with you?” he asked. His voice was soft and smooth. Your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting with you or if he was being serious.

“Depends on the album.” you said, deciding that was the best response. If he really was flirting with you - which you refused to believe he was - you had to tread carefully. You refused to let yourself forget he was a marauder. He was from the group who had terrorised teachers and students alike for the past 6 years going on 7. You looked up at him, nervously tapping your cigarette.

“Every album in your collection?” he asked, with a resided eyebrow. He now looked down at you. You were facing him with every part of yourself except your body.

“I could make that happen. It might take months though.”

“Happily spent with you.”

“You don’t even know me, I could be secretly evil and that’s why I have a small group of friends.” you said, not being entirely serious. Remus laughed a little.

“Alice likes you.”

“Alice likes everyone.”

“And, I do know you.”

“How would that come to be?”

“Professor McGonagall. She’s making us work together on coursework this year. In her words ‘to bring that lovely little girl out of her shell. She’s so lovely but just too quiet! Especially when she’s in classes with your lot.’” he said, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stamping on it. “Oh, and I saw you taking the piss out of James in transfiguration before summer. That was funny.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I thought I was invisible to your lot.”

“You were to them. Not to me. I had a little competition going on with you in transfiguration and potions.”

“You always beat me in tests by a mark! It’s so annoying.”

“You noticed?”

“I was starting to think you did it on purpose.”

Remus laughed and shook his head. He dipped into his pocket again. You had just dropped your cigarette. You put it out with your foot. “You look really nice tonight, is what Sirius wanted to tell you before you called his bluff.” he said, finding his lighter and the pack of cigs.

“I don’t need to hear it from him. He’s far too short to give his opinion on my appearance.” you said, joking. Mostly. This sent Remus into a fit of hysterical giggles - interrupted by the occasional cough. You laughed a little at him.

“I can cheers to that.” he said.

“How would all your girls compliment you then?”

“Oooh, low blow.”

“Alright, Casanova.”

“I left that lifestyle behind in 5th year.”

“It was short-lived. May you rest in peace: Remus Lupin the Slag.”

“You will not be missed.” Remus joked, shaking his head. He then moved to light another cigarette. He held it between his lips: inhale, exhale.

“It must’ve been fun though. And, you always have people being madly in love with you. I’m quite jealous really.”

“I’m sure more people take notice of you than you realise.”

“It's taken 6 years for most people to actually learn my name - I doubt it.”

“You’re very harsh on yourself.”

You shrugged, going slightly quiet. Remus felt a discomfort in the situation and knew the feeling well. He decided to change the subject.

“How has your summer been?” he asked, sounding genuine with interest. During your conversation with Remus, you noticed he was extremely genuine. Everything about him felt real. He truly seemed interested. It sent you into a spiral of disbelief; why did he care?

“Good, actually. Thank you for asking. I got to see a load of new bands because we went and stayed in Liverpool for a few days. It was mint. And, even better, I got to go visit the house where John Lennon used to stay with his Grandma in Blackpool. It was super cool. It did mean staying at my dad's though, which sucked a little - but you know, sacrifices.”

“Sounds, wonderful. I spent most of my summer staying with James.”

“Oh, really? Was it good? I met his mother and father - they were absolutely lovely. I wonder how they produced such a loud creature.”

Remus laughed at your calling James a ‘creature’. In fact to Remus it appeared rather ironic that you were talking to him and referring to James as a ‘creature’. Remus was well aware that his scarred face and at times withered appearance were blatantly obvious. However, you didn’t seem to mind at all. “It was good.” he replied, smiling down at you. The memories of this summer truly did make Remus happy. Especially because all four had been practically attached at the hip all summer. The only reason they were at this ball was because Sirius’ parents wanted to appear kind and carling; like they hadn’t miscommunicated their own son. Sirius had only agreed to go if he could bring his friends.

“Wait, sorry, can we back track a little bit. McGonagall said we are going to be working on coursework together? Like for the N.E.W.Ts?” you asked, looking wildly confused.

“Yeah - she said we both had skills we could offer each other in our studying. It also meant I could stop Sirius and Pete from trying to copy my work.” he replied, nodding his head.

“Wow, that’s so random. I wonder why she put us two together?” “I have no idea,” Remus replied, letting go another inhale of smoke. You looked up at him. Silently, he held the cigarette out towards you. You smiled and whispered a small thank you. After two quick drags, you handed it back to Remus - who did the same. The pattern continued as your conversation progressed.

The pair of you continued to discuss music and school. The conversation had then shifted to books and film. Both of you had a shared love for muggle classic literature and Star Wars - both of you couldn’t wait for the second film. Remus said his favourite was The Picture of Dorian Gray. You had agreed it was a good book, but your favourite remained as Pride and Prejudice. As your conversation changed, so did the two of you. You had moved to be sat on the floor, facing the daffodils. This left you with your back to the rest of the group. It all felt very refreshing. Soon, it dawned on you that Remus Lupin was by far one of the biggest nerds you had ever encountered. He was so popular and well loved, but so unbelievably uncool. It made you laugh a little bit. He was just like you. He passed the cigarette back to you, smiling over at you. “So, what else?” Remus asked.

Confused, you tilted your head. “What else?” you repeated back to him.

“What else have I missed about you?”

“I don’t know, 17 years is a lot to cover. What have I missed about you?”

He laughed a little, understanding it was a slightly stupid question. See, Remus never thought he’d have the opportunity to get to know you, let alone actually get along with you. You’d always appeared very closed off and shy - when you weren’t with your friends. It felt good to hear you speak at a normal volume. And, to making you smile felt the best (according to Remus that is). “What do you enjoy doing?” he asked, deciding this was a better way into getting to know you better.

“Reading, writing, going to gigs, listening to music.”

“You like to write?”

“Love it. Fiction and non-fiction. I love to write my own romance fiction. It makes me feel better about the absence of it in my own life,” you joked, rolling your eyes. You didn’t mean to appear pathetic, but it was hard to not be a little self deprecating at times. It kept you humble.

“Id love to read it some time. I quite like writing too.”

“You do?” “Yeah.”

You smiled, offering back the cigarette. He gladly took it. You took a moment to just look at him. His face, his eyes, his hair and his scars. You’d never really paid enough attention to them before. They looked sore. A part of you wondered what the cause was, and another part of you told you it was not your business. You knew Remus had been in one or two fights during his time at Hogwarts. However, it had never been anything serious enough to sustain injuries like those. You tried to push it to the back of your mind but, the curiosity continued to creep up. You drew your eyes away from his scars and instead to his eyes. You’d never seen anything like his. They were brown, but almost looked like honey. You were sure you could study them for years. If you were any good at art, Remus would definitely be your muse. His hair was a sandy brown too. Everything about him appeared to be soft apart from the harsh cuts over his body. He’d rolled up the long sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. You’d found yourself wanting to stare at his forearms. Albeit embarrassing, it was the first time you’d properly liked someone your own age. You’d only ever liked people who were in the years above. Something about this felt a little different: it wasn’t purely physical attraction. He was lovely to talk to, and he saw you. He saw you. That was rare. Looking over at you, Remus lifted an eyebrow.

“Where’d you just go?” he asked, turning to face you. He stretched out his legs and groaned a little, rubbing his knees. “Oh, just thinking. Are your knees okay? You sound like my mum after doing the gardening,” you hummed, laughing a little at your own joke. Remus shook his head, laughing a little too.

“You’re cruel. I just ache sometimes.” “It’s the lankiness. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Probably.”

“Unless you have a secret double life.”

Remus thanked Merlin he didn’t have to answer that because James had pointed out the two of you being sat together. Everyone was now making kissing noises. You turned to him and rolled your eyes - he just laughed. It was nothing he wasn’t used to; his friends had always been like this. They continued their teasing until a noise came from the doors. Suddenly, all cigs were dropped and they pretended to be partaking in polite conversation. Much to your surprise, it was William calling your name. Remus stood up, standing on his cigarette. He offered his hand out to help you stand up. You took his offer, being particularly careful not to damage your dress. You smiled up at the tall boy. He smiled back. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

“I hope so too. You’ve got a lot of records to listen to” you replied, smiling wildly now. It all felt too good to be true. You turned and waved goodbye to everyone else before rushing off to find William.

You really did hope you would see him soon. He’d allowed you to forget where you were for the moment. He let you forget who you were. You felt important.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #james potter #sirius black #marauders era #peter pettigrew #the valkyries #biblically accurate 70s marauders #loser reader #i heart remus lupin

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zilabee · 10 months ago

Note

As a fellow Beatles fan (I assume), how do you still love the boys despite some of the bad things they have done, allegedly done, and/or are tied to but we don’t know if they have actually done?

I love them and their antics, but this trips me up every now and then

oh anon.

you correctly assume my fellowship.

we perhaps need a master post to link people to all the answers every beatles blog has to this same anonymous worry.

but my thought pattern is:

a) everyone's terrible it's not just the beatles

and by 'everyone' I mean men. I do get where you're coming from, I have my days, but at the same time it almost surprises me what a big issue this is for people, because all men are awful*. Pretty much any man put in the beatles situation would have been at least as awful - and many worse - than the Beatles.

I'm not saying that to mean 'so they're not that bad!' I'm saying it to mean that every man around you is as bad as they are. Yes even the modern ones. So the thing you're actually dealing with is 'the awful nature of men'... so it's hardly even a question about liking the Beatles and coping with that. It's just about existing in a world where you know what men are like - and coping with that. So you cope with it however you generally make peace with the fact that men don't like women very much... and if you struggle with that you have to read the books where we keep actual feminism, not tumblr.

b) it doesn't matter that much

your enjoyment of the beatles isn't going to bring about world ruination, you don't need to be some pure moral absolute, you're not going to hurt anyone by finding joy in some dickhead from the sixties! you don't pick your favourite with your moral compass, y'know? turning away from them isn't going to change anything that happened, or make anyone feel better, or even make you a better person with more inner peace. you're fine.

it's just about not getting defensive or pretending things didn't happen, or somehow arguing like it doesn't even matter that they hurt people because they could have been worse, or pretending it's all blown up from nothing. that's when fandom becomes a bit shit and ridiculous. it's just very possible to be aware of the terrible things the beatles did and still feel the thrill of the universe flood through you when Paul screams.

* The bots will find me! The bots will "not all men!" me. You don't have to worry about it or do it yourself, the bots will do it. I will be suitably told off for generalising about the terrible menfolk who are statistically + anecdotally + factually definitely worse than the womenfolk, and I'll be reminded that just because it's true doesn't mean you can just say it, because we're meant to pretend. So you can just scroll by and not worry that I might not get told.

#asks #the beatles #the problematic beatles #the problematic universe

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yallthemwitches · 2 months ago

Text

The Storm, The Aftermath

A smutty, fluffy continuation of my jilytober fic 'The Storm' ( Rated T: Link Here) though it is not necessary to read them together. Also a portion of this is based off a @blvnk-art comic which I posted previously.

NSFW Warning! AO3 Here

“James…” Lily watches him from the bed, his shoulders tight, hands moving flustered as they search for some unknown item of clothing. Even from behind she can tell he is trying to regulate his breathing. “James,” she repeats, taking a small pause, “I wasn’t planning on needing anything to sleep in.” She feels her whole face flush.. If implications were heavy before, all nuance is now thrown out into the storm.

“If your mum or dad ask, we fell asleep working on the assignment,” Lily murmurs, a hand curling deep into his hair while the other brushes a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Right…assignment.” He pushes their bodies flush together and propels them backwards towards the open door to his room. His teeth nip at her thumb, sending her nervous system rampant.

“We can say I suggested we keep at it—you know, since I had to stay the night anyhow.” Her voice turns into a sigh as James skims his teeth against her cheek, grazing to her chin with an open mouth.

“Had to,” he teases, eyes fighting to stay open. His hands find where her shirt allows entrance to the skin underneath and he presses in.

“Plus,” she sighs at the feel of his rough hands on her back, “ I didn’t quite like the look of the guest bedroom anyhow—too sterile.”

"Are you calling my room dirty, Evans? How rude.”

Their bodies push their way into the open door. Despite the efforts of his hands to erase all thought, Lily can’t help but relish in entering his personal space. It’s a rarity—she has seen his four poster bed back at school in fleeting moments from before they started hooking up, but even then that was a shared living space, marked by other boys past and present. This was his territory, completely unfiltered by anyone but himself.

He makes a small noise of dissent as she untangles herself to get a better look at the room: his broom leans against a much too large mahogany bed and the static eyes of The Beatles stare back from the walls while quidditch heroes zoom across posters. Books are stacked on the floor at the bedside and a large bay window opens out to the gardens next to the house, now darkened by the incoming storm.

With a shot of confidence, Lily turns to give him a coy smile before bounding over to the foot of the bed, taking a seat on the edge. James watches her go, barely capable of keeping his jaw from unhinging as his heart rattles in his chest.

“Nice room Potter.” She leans back on her hands. The bedding feels expensive, higher quality than the stuff at Hogwarts and certainly the ones she has back in her room in Cokeworth. She imagines James curled underneath it, lying awake before another day of messing around with Sirius or practicing quidditch out in the field which flanks the Potter Estate, maybe just maybe also thinking of her…

They watch each other for a moment, sizing up the scenario. The wind from the snowstorm rattles the window, serving as a gentle reminder that they aren’t suspended outside of reality. It has been months since they started snogging in secret, but it isn’t until this moment they have actually achieved true, comfortable solitude.

It’s an understatement to say that James can feel the implications of her presence. His whole body is burdened by the fact— years of imagining her sitting exactly where she is now are catching up to him, mixing with all the other fantasies that include words such as Lily, bed, and alone. She watches him with a smirk as he fiddles with the ends of his hair, shifting his weight to hide the feeling of arousal taking over despite his best efforts.

“Uh…let me find you something to sleep in–” he says, becoming red around the cheeks. He turns towards an ornate dresser against the side wall and rips open a drawer, sticking his hand in to fish through the fabric before closing it and repeating with another.

“James,” she repeats, taking a small pause, “I wasn’t planning on needing anything to sleep in.”

She feels her whole face flush. If implications were heavy before, all nuance is now thrown out into the storm.

“Oh?” His hands tighten around the knobs. The wood groans underneath and he grips onto it as though it is the only thing holding him back from lunging at her. He turns around slowly, eyes burning with something feral and raw.

“Yeah.”

Her thoughts scramble as he takes slow steps towards her and she knows she is too close already to drowning in him. The smell of his room, the feel of his bed, him looking at her with that stare and hands capable of completely unwinding her—she doesn’t want to give in. She was the one who planned this all out, not him. She can’t let him take over so easily.

He stands in front of her and lets his fingers skim across the tops of her shoulders, eyes searching her face. She takes a breath, mustering months worth of desire into one single moment of bravery. She reaches for his belt.

It isn’t something they haven’t done before, but it feels reckless out of the context of fumbling moments in broom closets. James lets out a strained breath, eyes fluttering closed with his fingers now pressing into her shoulders, willing her to not move from against him.

“Is this ok?”

He responds with a groan as her other hand slides over the bulge that appeared long before they had entered the room. She can feel how turned on he is already, and it occurs to her that this is the first time they have ever been able to fully explore each other with the patience and dedication they deserve.

“More than ok—-eons better than ok.” His eyes are glassy and wide, watching her like someone in the midst of sleepwalking.

“And you don’t think your parents will—”

“Evans.” James groans out, “Can we not talk about my parents at a time like this.” He makes a small choking sound when her hand adds more pressure. “They never come over to this part of the house anyways.”

It isn’t the most satisfying answer, but she is in no state to complain. Moving her fingers around him, she feels every hard line of his erection straining into the fabric. She stares up at him with wonder as his face changes with her movements, his heart visibility erratic. She has to admit, it feels powerful to be like this—to watch as his jaw drops open and breath goes ragged and deep just by her fingers on trousers alone.

“I have to admit something to you,” she murmurs, her other hand still working on his belt, “I didn’t want to come to your house just for the assignment.”

He lets out a strangled laugh and tries to help her with his belt but she swats him away.

“I figured when you lied to our parents about needing to stay over,” he mumbles, eyes fighting to stay open. “Though I’m very interested in what excuse you would have come up with if there hadn’t already been a storm coming–”

His breath hitches as she gets his belt and pants undone, hand now edging around the waistband of his underpants.

“That's the thing-” his skin feels scorching under her hand as it dips farther down, slowly crawling to the base of his erection, “I planned to come today, because of the storm.”

She wraps her palm around him and he hisses, body arching forward as she gives him a small tug. They have only done this a number of times, but he always reacts in the same way: like his soul is leaving his body for some greater plane of consciousness.

“Didn’t realize you had it in you,” he groans out, hands finding her neck and thumbs rubbing circles there.

“What?”

“Mischief.”

She pumps up his length and he lets out a soft string of swear words.

“What can I say, you’ve been a bad influence.”

She lets him go and he gasps in disappointment. Flashing a smile, she pushes herself farther up the bed until she reaches the headboard. He crawls after her, reaching her legs and pulling them apart at the knees, easily flipping up the skirt that has pooled down by her waist. Looking up at her through skewed glasses, he begins dotting kisses into her inner thigh, each one more lavish than the next.

“So what did you plan to do Miss Evans? Seeing as this is all your orchestration?”

She doesn’t answer, instead melting under the heat of his mouth. He is relentless, giving open kisses up her thighs, letting his tongue slide over her skin as he goes. She isn’t used to being able to watch him do it—more attuned to the dark shadows of shifting bodies against boxes of cleaning supplies. Here, she can clearly watch every movement, finally putting a visual to the sensation.

“Sleep, I suppose.” She finally gasps out and he chuckles against her thigh, sending a shiver up her body.

“I think we’re past the point of sleeping, Evans.”

He’s moving painfully slow, but she tries to savor it. His mouth nipping and teasing as he gets closer to the apex of her legs. It’s the one thing she yearns for more than anything else they have already done: his mouth on her center. The first time he ever did it, he fell to his knees as though in prayer in an empty classroom and she thought she was going to explode from the feeling—his mouth, his tongue, his fingers moving in complete synchronicity against her. Ever since, she didn’t care if they had five minutes to spare or if Filch was just around the corner— she wanted him between her legs, making her whimper by the softness of his tongue. She wants it so much and so often that it worries her to think that she will feel just as insatiable about another part of his body when the time comes.

“Is this ok?” He breathes into her inner thigh. Both of them can see the result of desire pooling between her legs and James stares shamelessly, wonder etched across his face.

“Merlin— you are so wet…because of me?”

“Don’t be arrogant.” Her voice turns into a moan as he bites down against the uppermost part of her thigh before licking over it to ease any pain. The newfound sight of her arousal awakens an urgency in him and his hands and mouth are moving more erratic against her, trying to take as much of her in as he possibly can.

“Lily, you have no idea. No idea how many nights I’ve thought of you in this bed.”

She can’t help but giggle at the teenage lust of it all. It’s not like she is any better—before they started hooking up she would wake up with her hand already between her legs, body covered in sweat as she broke from the dream of his mouth crawling its way around her chest.

“Is it better or worse than you imagined?” She quips and his mouth stills. She looks down to catch his gaze burning up at her, a hand hovering dangerously close to her center.

“Don’t even joke Evans.”

She plans to make another cheeky remark but it’s cut short by his mouth making contact with her knickers. He kisses her through the wet fabric, running his tongue into the grooves of her flesh that he already knows so well. Her back arches for him instinctively and he uses it as leverage to hold her body in a hovered state, fingers circling at the top of her ass.

“Christ Potter.” She can feel him smile against her as he continues his ministrations, teeth pulling back the side of her knickers and slipping his tongue onto slick skin. The feel of his raw mouth makes her gasp and he lets out a small chuckle, pleased he is capable of making her react so viscerally.

“You are so lovely, so lovely .” He’s breathing straight inside her and his air makes her body feel feverish. “I don’t know how I deserve you, but I will never never let you go if I can help it.”

A finger slides into her and it takes everything to not let her head fall completely back. She doesn’t want to look away—completely mesmerized by how his tongue works her clit while his fingers twist inside her. He adds another finger and she lets out a cry, happy that his parents are presumably on the other side of the house.

“James, wait, I—” The feeling builds faster than she can fight it. With one last lick, she is sent over the edge, grasping onto his hair and her legs squeeze around him.

“Oh fuck—Lily—” his eyes are wide, watching as she shudders through the last of her climax. She pulls at his shoulders and he rises back up, wiping his mouth with his shirt.

“That was incredible—Lily, you taste…I can’t even describe it—” He genuinely looks dumbstruck, sitting beside her.

She watches him catch his breath, a hand caressing his leg slowly as he smiles back at her. It’s the place they usually stop: where one of both of them is sated by a mouth or a hand before they put their clothes back on and go their separate ways. But tonight, they have nowhere to run off to, no reason to leave things just short of full completion.

“Lily—” He starts in, but she is already ahead of him. Sitting up, she pulls her jumper over her head and the rush of cold hits her bare breasts. Anything he was about to say gets stuck in his throat at the sight of her.

“Dear sweet Godric–” he breathes out, eyes jumping from one breast to the other.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen them plenty of times.”

“But I haven’t,” James gives her an incredulous stare, “Between my glasses and the near black of those bloody closets, I might as well be experiencing this for the first time.”

“Well—” Lily stammers, “Seeing as you just, you know, licked me out , my tits are hardly something to—”

James lunges at her, knocking her fully back on the bed. He slots himself between her legs and she can feel his arousal pressing through the fabric and into her waist.

“Don’t you ever, ever undermine your body like that,” he growls out. A hand slides from her cheek, down her neck, to her clavicle, circling just under one of her breasts but not making contact.

“Can I—”

“Touch them? Yes.” Lily cuts him off. She’s surprised he is even asking, seeing as he has done it hundreds of times before.

“No—can I take off my clothes too?”

Another wave of vulnerability enters the room. They have seen each other in various levels of undress, but never fully and never together .

“I don’t want to push anything—and I know we agreed that this is all just for a laugh, but I just—” He lets his voice get away from him, insecurity getting the best of his thoughts.

“Is that what you think?” she says quietly, “That I came here, lied to your parents and mine…for a laugh?”

James makes a coughing sound, eyes darting around her face, waiting for an elaboration.

“You’re right, I have worries about telling our mates for various reasons–” He opens his mouth to interrupt her, but she silences him with a hand on his mouth.

“-But that doesn’t mean that this isn’t real for me. That I don’t want you just as much as you want me.”

He looks down at her, feelings shifting on his face faster than she can read them.

“Lily, I really fancy you,” he whispers, strained. “And if—if we do something, y’know more , I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back.”

She reaches her hands up to his cheeks and rests them there, fingers catching falling hair out of his face.

“You say that like I don’t feel the same way,” her pulse quickens, “you say that like you don’t already know that I don’t want to go back.”

His eyes blaze raw and hopeful, and she feels the blood rush through her body, giving her the bravery she needs to move her hands back to his unbuttoned trousers and tug them down. His lips crash onto hers, and she can feel the hard line of his body pressing into her chest as he cups her face with one hand and helps ease his pants off with another. Just as quick, he removes his shirt, letting their bare chests slide together, his skin burning.

“Lily, Lily, Lily.” He says her name like a lullaby, kissing down the column of her neck until he reaches one of her breasts. Taking her nipple into his mouth, she arches up as his tongue swirls around it, him somehow finding new ways for her to feel impossibly good.

She can’t get enough of him, the feverish heat of his skin, the sturdy pulse of his body. She knows she is breathing yet it feels like there is not enough air for the two of them, the sound of the storm just adding to the fervent nature of their movements. He is as close to her as he has ever been, but she wants him closer still .

Pulling off of her slightly, he dips a hand down to unbutton her skirt, pulling it and her knickers down with a tug. Now completely nude, he rises up to look at her, his eyes brimming with awe.

“You are so beautiful.”

It’s something she’s seen people say in movies, but she can tell the words hold all the sincerity in the world. His eyes are wide, trying to commit every part of her to memory, hand lightly grazing her hip as he takes her in. Satisfied, he drops down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, a smile evident on his lips.

“Lily, I meant it, he gasps out when he breaks for air, “What I said earlier—I don’t want anyone else. I never want to lose you.”

“I know,” she breathes against his lips, “good thing you aren’t losing me.”

He closes in for another kiss, his lips soft but urgent, tongue begging to twist with hers. Through the haze she senses some shuffling at their waists until she can feel the bare skin of his arousal pressing in against her, warm and throbbing.

“Wait, I want to see you too.”

She wiggles her way out from under him and he obliges, falling onto his back. It’s her turn to regard him—she thought she knew his body so well already but in the light it takes on a whole new meaning. He is muscular yet slim, something she always thought made him look so effortlessly fit in comparison to his bulking teammates, and she holds back a gasp when she finally sees his cock, hard and erect with the smallest bit of liquid crowning at the tip.

“I did that?” She says, knowing how childish it sounds.

“Look who is arrogant now,” James teases, squeezing her thigh, “You’re killing me, Evans. C’mere.”

She puts a leg over his hips and settles down against him. His cock slides easily into her folds and both of them hum in approval, now realizing how much better it feels without the barrier of clothes.

“Are you sure?”

She doesn’t need to respond, instead rolling her hips forward until she can feel his tip lining up with her entrance. His head falls back, but his eyes refuse to leave hers, the question still hanging between them.

“Let me lead,” she says, not waiting another second to slide herself onto him.

A gasp escapes as her body stretches around him, learning to accommodate the new sensation. She stalls, rocking her hips slightly to let the smallest bit of him slide in and out of her, testing the waters before daring to continue further. He grabs onto her thighs, following her rhythm as she moves back and forth, eyes wild and adoring. Deep sighs leave his throat with each small movement, reassuring her to keep going.

They continue like this until she has pushed him fully inside and their bottom halves connect. Her hips move more languorously now, waving up and down the length of him in steady movements. Her mouth hangs open, trying to take full breaths between the noises that keep pouring out of her mouth with every thrust.

“James— Christ.”

He leans upwards and takes one of her breasts into his mouth, and she cries from the over stimulation of it all. It feels better than anything she could ever imagine—not even the added pleasures of all their cupboard trysts would equate to the sensation occurring at that moment. They are utterly complete, moving as one.

James grabs hold of her torso and carefully flips them over without slipping out of her. Now with the upperhand, he is able to press deeper, hitting a ball of nerves tucked deep inside her that makes her stomach clench in ecstasy.

When he is not moaning hot kisses into her breasts or neck, he is watching her—keeping a steady gaze on her face to make sure that she is enjoying every single moment as much as he is. Strings of words chant out of his mouth—some affirmations, some swears, some just her name over and over until it sounds like a foreign language.

“Lily, I won’t last much longer, I want you to come for me.”

It’s instinctual. She reaches one hand between her legs to rub the tip of her clit while the other cups the curve of her breast, jutting it outwards as an offering to his mouth. His eyes grow impossibly wider, ducking down to take her tit between his teeth.

Her second climax is more violent than the first. She can feel herself squeezing around him, her whole body seizing up until it feels like a rubber band in mid snap. He holds her against him, mouth breathing onto her chest as he continues his rhythm through her release.

“So beautiful, so good, Godric Lily, I can feel it.”

It sends him over the edge. His hips snap forward, now erratic and urgent. Slick with the sweat of her climax, she grabs both of his cheeks and forces him to look at her. His eyes drowning in desire and anticipation.

“Come for me James—you can come inside me, it's ok.”

“Lily—” He looks unsure, but he’s losing time. She can feel his body quivering over her.

“I took the potion, I want you to come inside me. Please James.”

“ Lily—-ah.” She feels his release instantaneously. She remarks that it’s weirdly warm and comforting despite it being such a carnal act.

With a sigh, he collapses on her, hands dancing across her collar bone as he catches his breath into her shoulder.

“Incredible. You’re just—” he doesn’t finish his thought, opting to press his lips gently into her neck.

She wraps her arms around him. He’s sweaty and heaving and hers. She had never felt like that about him before even in their most intimate moments, but now it is solidified, maybe not in words but in action.

Snow makes pattering noises against the windowpane, the wind too slow to dust it off before another blanket appears. They lay in each other’s arms, feeling their heart beats go from wild to steady, hands lazily tracing the other’s skin until they halt into calm.

“Are you sleeping now?” He whispers into the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling into her skin.

“Not yet,” she smiles, a laugh already bubbling up, “Why? You keen on working on that Charms assignment?”

James laughs and the sound cuts through the night air.

“Not quite.” He raises himself to hover back over her, mouth skimming hers.

“But I am keen on working on something else.”

~ ~ ~

She awakes exactly how she fell asleep, tangled up in him. At some point in the night he had pulled the blankets over them, and their bodies radiated heat. Her face is pushed into his chest, and one leg is hitched up against his thigh, his fingers contracting in sleep against her ass.

He must have taken off his glasses at some point in the night, because when she looks up at him, his eyes are unobscured. He has eyelashes much longer than she imagined and his hair falls in unruly tangles around his face. A warmth rises in her chest as she watches his mouth hang slightly open and a moan drift out.

She doesn’t want it to end. They might be melded together now, but their time is coming to a close—soon she will have to go back to Cokeworth, Sirius will return from his uncle’s, and he will stay in this room with only the memory to keep him company.

They need to talk about what will happen when they return back to Hogwarts, but she lets the thought drift away as he stirs. Blinking his eyes open to look down at her, a lazy, irresistible smile pulls at his lips.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” she echoes, giggling at the absurdity of it all. “How did you sleep?”

He leans in and gives a kiss to her forehead, his arm tightening to keep her leg from unwinding around him.

“Brilliant because you are here…but terribly because every time I woke up I was randy for you all over again.”

She knows he isn’t lying, she can feel the proof of it pressing into her pelvis.

“Poor you,” she teases. “Sounds like you should do something about it.” She gives him a smile and his face goes alight with happiness. He rolls them over so he is back over her, their lips pressing together with already panting kisses.

“JAMES DARLING! BREAKFAST IS READY!”

He doesn’t stall, his hand already teasing at her breast and Lily gasping into his mouth.

“JAMES! YOU AND LILY CAN’T ROLL AROUND ALL DAY— BESIDES I’VE MADE THE POTTER SPECIAL...”

James' eyes rip open and they share a mutual look of embarrassment and horror. Lily can feel her whole body turning red, burrowing her face into his chest.

“Er—Thanks Dad.” James calls out, voice cracking a little. He looks down at her and lightly brushes some knotted hair out of her eyes.

“The Potter Special?”

“You’re going to love it,” he pulls her chin up and gives her a soft kiss on the mouth, eyes still dreamy.

“Before we face death by utter embarrassment at the hands of my parents, can we—”

She threads her hands in his hair, an act now as familiar as blinking.

“I’m not going anywhere, Potter.”

His face nearly breaks in two from a grin and he swoops down to catch her in a fierce, desperate kiss. Around them the room spins, and everything beyond the bed starts to melt away again.

“Fuck it—I’m not hungry,” he gasps when they part to catch their breaths. Lily's laugh transforms into a moan, feeling his body already lining up against hers.

“Me either,” she sighs. He presses into her she tugs him closer, savoring him for as long as possible.

“It can wait.”

#jily smut #jily #jily fanfiction #first time fic #james potter #lily evans #a little treat after halloween #fic continuation #marauders era #yallthemwitches #james x lily

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