#These four idiots who want to go to London

[pixlerelish]

#Dunki #Onward and upward #These four idiots who want to go to London #huh? #let's go #Hardy #Manu #Gulati #Buggu #Balli #Sukhi #Shah Rukh Khan #Taapsee Pannu #Boman Irani #Vikram Kochhar #Anil Grover #Vicky Kaushal #Pix's pics

[allywthsr]

FINDING LANDO ON RAYA | (l.norris)

summary: you are bored in your hotel room and find Lando Norris on Raya, what will happen if he texts you?

wordcount: 5.7k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v

notes: seeing that video, did things to me, my first smut so please be gentle!! Comment your thoughts please also please pretend that you don’t need to be a celebrity to see others

You were in Amsterdam for a work trip, discussing business with possible new clients. The client that was scheduled on your last day, canceled the meeting the night before, because of some emergency that came up, so you being bored in your hotel room during the early afternoon, you checked Raya. You downloaded the app with your friends back in London to see who comes up and check out celebrities that had a profile there. You weren’t big on dating apps, you had Tinder but only to make fun of the jerks that were registered.

Nothing serious ever came out of the dates you had, Raya was your new hope. Maybe going on dates with celebrities would be better, maybe they wouldn’t be such idiots, in the end, you could always talk to tabloids and tell them what an asshole he was. They knew that risk and they wouldn’t just send dickpics out of the blue.

Going through the profiles you found some Instagram celebrities, but non caught your eye, you could clearly see the fuckboy in them.

You almost wanted to close the app, but saw a brown-haired boy named Lando Norris. You followed Formula One and watched as many races as you could, always keeping a close eye on the younger drivers, who just looked absolutely delicious. With Lando getting P2 in Silverstone and Hungary, you shifted your attention to him, stalking him on Instagram and finding him legs clenching sexy. You never would’ve thought you would find him on such an app. He could just scroll on his Instagram followers, chose a random person, and hit her up, she would open her legs in seconds, not that you were any different.

You clicked through his pictures, a black and white one of him looking like the dessert he is, one of him partying, and one of him with his friends and pulling a weird face. The three pictures showed his personality perfectly. Sexy, outgoing, and funny. You analyzed the profile further, looking at his profession which said, Formula One driver, age twenty four, wasn’t he twenty three? After a quick Google search, you checked that he was indeed twenty three years old. Lando Norris cheating his age, you saw what he was doing.

Visiting Amsterdam from London, just like you.

You didn’t hesitate for a second but clicked straight on the heart, hoping that maybe he liked you as well and before you could blink, a page popped up, and the words: ’You and Lando like each other!‘ flew across your screen.

You couldn’t believe it, he liked you as well. What? How?

What should you do now? Text him? Ignore it? You couldn’t ignore him. Meeting Lando was a one in a million chance. You wondered what he was like in real life, was he as funny as he appeared in all of the videos? You tapped on his chat and thought about what you wanted to say. Something sweet? Something funny? Something flirty? Or did you text him something about Formula One? You were about to exit the app and text your best friend, but then you saw a bubble appear, indicating that he was typing.

/////////////////// Meanwhile at Lando’s //////////////////////

He sat in his hotel room watching something random on Netflix when his phone made a sound, a sound that he specifically set for Raya. He removed his eyes from his MacBook and took his phone in his hand, he recognized your name from earlier. He looked for some fun on Raya, wanting a quick fuck to forget the busy weeks he had. So when he scrolled through the profiles and found yours, he was kind of drooling. You looked stunning in the pictures you put up, one of you in a park, sitting on a blanket and enjoying the sun, the next one was you, sitting on some random stairs in front of a house you found in Notting Hill and the last one was one of you sitting in front of a cake, made for your birthday. A big pink twenty two was piped on the white frosting while you smiled at the cake. You were surprised by the whole day your friends had prepared for you. Due to you moving to London for your job, you had no one at first, because of your job you got to know a lot of people and some stuck with you, surprising you for your birthday.

You looked super hot in all of your photos, choosing them with a laugh with your friends, saying how many creeps were going to slide in your dms.

So when Lando read: ’You and Y/N like each other!‘, he didn’t waste a second of not answering you. He thought you were perfect, from London and in his age range and not ugly. Lando clicked on the private chat and typed in his usual message, every time he used this, not one girl said no.

Hey there! You look absolutely gorgeous

What are you up to babygirl?

You almost let out a scream. He was a flirt, a big one. What should you do? Text your best friend and ask for help or just handle this like a pro and see what the outcome is. You decided to go for the second, if he wanted to meet up, then it was because of you and your texting and not because of your best friend that basically wrote the text for you. So you replied to him, if he was flirty, you would be too.

Hiya Handsome

Not much, chilling in my hotel room

What about you?

You wanted to keep the conversation going, so you obviously wanted to know what he was up to. If someone would have told you weeks ago, that you would be texting with Lando Norris on your Amsterdam business trip, you would have laughed at the person. You dreaded this trip, of course, it was fun traveling at the cost of the company but it was also lonely. Maybe texting Lando wasn’t that bad after all, he could be your company for the last day.

You didn’t have to wait too long for a reply from him, after seconds he had read the message and the bubble appeared again. He was not only fast at driving then.

The same

I‘m bored as hell

What are you doing tonight?

Oh god. What now? That was practically him asking you if you were free later. Of course, you were but that was not him asking for a date where he would kiss you on the cheek good night. That was him asking for a quickie and you knew it. But would you still meet him? Obviously! It’s not every day you get to meet one of your celebrity crushes.

Not much, had a client meeting but he canceled so now I‘m free

Thought about going out and seeing the city but am not sure, they said that rain is coming later

Why you asking?

You knew why he was asking, but you wanted to seem innocent. In your head you already started planning your outfit, you had a lot of serious outfits for work and barely anything nice to wear for a non formal meeting. But you were so happy you packed some lingerie, you had to because almost all of your normal non sexy underwear was in the laundry, which you forgot to put into the washing machine. Typical you.

It’s my lucky day then

The clouds are already really dark, seems like you can’t go out tonight :(

Wanna come to my hotel and maybe we could order some food? I‘m kinda craving some McDonald’s

You seem lovely

And it happened. What are you gonna do now? In the end, he was still a stranger, someone you did not know. He could be fully different from what you saw and knew of him on the internet. Oh god, what if he had some weird kinks and was going to pee on you or something? You just hoped he was normal in and out of bed. And McDonald's? Isn’t he an athlete that had to follow some strict diet? Did fastfood even fit in there? What were you going to answer to the ’you seem lovely‘? That was probably something he texted every girl, so you chose to ignore it for now.

That’s a bummer

You could be a serial killer and kill me before I get the chance of saying goodbye to my loved ones, but McDonald’s does sound nice

But does it fit into your strict diet, mister McLaren’s number one driver?

Were you actually going to meet him? You needed advice from your best friend. She knew what to do, you were sure, she always did. In the end, she was one of the humans that pressured you into downloading that app in the first place.

The serial killer existence is not giving me the kick as it used to, so don’t worry, I‘m over it

I also don’t have any more space for the corpse in my basement

McDonald’s it is then

Someone did their googling, I see

It’s the break, I can do what I want

Also, my trainer will not know about this, and what he doesn’t know, he won’t get mad over

Are you still there?

Hello?

Babygirl

Where did you go

The serial killer text was only meant as a joke, I would never do something like that, it would ruin my career

You chuckled, did he really think you were scared by the obvious sarcastic text? Cute.

If you retired from the serial killer being, then fine

I watch you drive around in circles every weekend, don’t get your hopes up, I didn’t google you

And what if I already texted your trainer and told Jon about this? ;)

Are we impatient? Am I that special that you can’t go a minute without me? Atta boy

You let out a sigh, it’s official now. You were going to meet up with Lando Norris. Then you could see how he really was and compare him to all the fan fictions you‘ve read. You really needed to sort out some outfit.

You comin‘? That’s sweet

So I got myself a fangirl? Just don’t be a Max Verstappen lover, I want you to be on my side

And if you did text him, you will get punished later ;)

You are gorgeous, just wanted to make sure that I was the only one inviting you for dinner tonight

Oh god, hallelujah. Now you kinda wanted to text Jon and see what his punishment looks like. You could feel the heat and the pulsating between your legs already and you haven’t even talked with him face to face yet. You needed to get there soon.

Sure, I always take a free meal, sent me your address? :)

Nah, I actually like George Russell but he didn’t answer me on Instagram… :(

So you‘ll do it

Now I kind of want to text him and see what that means… maybe I’ll send him a picture of you biting into a burger later

And no, no competition for you

Ah btw, what’s the dress code? I didn’t pack much fancy clothing except for my work stuff. Are we thinking sweats? Or else I’m gonna turn up in a work dress

The George Russell comment was made up, you never texted him but wanted to play a little with Lando. You didn’t know how to put the dress question in a flirty comment, you weren’t even sure if he was actually trying to get you into his bed. Maybe he was just looking for someone to accompany him for eating McDonald’s.

It’s the Hilton in Amsterdam, there‘s only one

I‘ll send you someone to pick you up, don’t worry

And that’s sad, I can’t get George to come here so quickly, guess I’ll be your only company tonight

Do it and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow

Please come in your sweats!! That’s the most comfortable for eating McDonald’s and chilling, besides, I won’t look at them when they‘re laying on the floor, so put on whatever you feel comfortable in

Yep, that was not just an ’I‘m bored’ dinner. Alright. You could feel your panties getting slightly damped when you stood up and walked to your suitcase. Fishing out dark grey sweatpants and a white crop top. You needed to shower before you went there, get cleaned up, and shave. What color of lingerie would you put on? You had no idea, maybe you should ask him since he‘s also not subtle about dropping hints about where this night would lead.

That’s nice, thank you!! What time will he be here?

Alright alright, sweats it is then, what color are we thinking for lingerie? I have some red, blue, yellow, burgundy and white

You were bold here, that wasn’t normally your case of flirting but he was just as forward as you were, so why hold back? And you really needed help choosing the color. What if he didn’t like yellow?

He‘ll be at yours at 6:30 pm if traffic is alright

Baby, I won’t make it through dinner if I know what you‘re wearing underneath

You‘re making things very hard for me already and I haven’t even touched you yet

But I love the color blue, babygirl

Put on whatever you feel comfortable in

He was the sweetest even while flirting. And him sending you a driver? Was this the princess treating your father always talked about when you were younger? But you were sure he didn’t have in mind what was coming for you after dinner if you would eat dinner before the sports session Lando had planned.

I‘ll see what I can do then

See you later handsome ;)

You hoped into the shower, washing your skin twice with the summer like smelling shower gel. Peeling your skin to make it super soft as well as shaving every hair you saw. You knew that men shouldn’t care if you had hairs on your body or not, but you felt better if you did. You were also happy, that you washed your hair yesterday evening so you did not have to worry about it now.

It was very difficult, to not touch yourself. The pressure that build up down there was almost unbearable, but you wanted to wait for Lando, it was his job now to make you feel good, you just hoped 6:30 pm would come soon.

When you got out of the shower you dried your body and tapped the screen of your phone, it was 4:48 pm. Enough time to get your makeup done and stress yourself. So before you did anything else, you applied some body cream to make your skin super silky.

Now sitting down in front of the hotel window with your travel mirror in hand, you started on your makeup. You didn’t want to overdo it and ruin this night, but you also wanted to look like something. So you did a light makeup, only applying products that weren’t heavy on your skin and looked almost natural.

The next time you took your phone in your hands to check the time it was 5:29 pm. Only an hour. You could do that. You decided to text your best friend the new details.

So you did just that, applying Parfum on your ankles, between your thighs, and even spritzed some behind your ear. You just hoped he would like your Parfum. Packing together some things you would possibly need for sleeping over. New underwear, makeup remover, your face cream, and your phone charger, you doubt he had two. You put on your sweats and the crop top over the blue lingerie, was that even the right thing? Meeting up with him just for a quickie? He won’t remember you by next week, did you really want to go through that? You would get attached to him and he is never going to text you.

The next time you tapped on your phone it was 6:24 pm, you spent the last twenty minutes wandering around in the hotel room trying to get rid of the butterflies you felt. It was exciting meeting up with someone when you knew you would have a good night, ending it with pleasure. So you gathered everything and made your way downstairs to the lobby, you waited there for a car to roll up to your hotel.

When a black Mercedes rolled up, you made your way outside and the driver got out of his car.

”Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N? I am here to pick you up on Mister Norris‘ behalf.“

”That’s me, thank you.“

You got into the car and waited for him to start driving, he wasn’t very talkative which you were thankful for, the nerves were getting the best of you, and you weren’t sure if you would even be able to talk a normal sentence without stuttering.

When you arrived at the hotel, the driver turned to you.

”I wish you both a good evening. His room is number 1283, the left elevator and then you need to press button twelve for the twelfth floor.“

”Thank you so much for picking me up!“

With that, your door got opened and you looked at the person with a disturbed look, seeing that it was only a Portier you relaxed. You weren’t used to this luxury. Thanking the guy that opened your door, you got out and went into the hotel to the left elevator, pressing floor twelve. The doors closed and you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. This was really happening. Before you knew it, the doors opened and you stood on the twelfth floor, now you only needed to find room number 1283. You followed the signs that were everywhere on the walls and a minute later you stood in front of the door.

With a thumping heart, you knocked at the door waiting for Lando to open it.

He answered with a big smile and tousled hair, he was dressed in some black sweats and a black T-shirt, looking handsome as ever.

”Hey, come in.“

”Hi, thank you.“

You stepped in and Lando opened his arms for a hug. Hugging before fucking, alright. He loosened the hug and his eyes scanned your body.

”You look absolutely gorgeous, Baby. Even better than on your pictures.“

”Thank you, but you aren’t that bad either, you look very handsome, I like your hair like this.“

”Yeah?“

You nodded.

What now? The sexual tension was already unbearable, you wouldn’t survive dinner. You both were practically eye fucking the other.

”Let’s sit down first?“

”Sure!“

With that you went to the cream-colored couch, sitting on it and having the perfect view over Amsterdam.

”But if you are a serial killer, do tell me. At least I want to say goodbye to my family.“

You had no idea what you were saying, you wanted to lighten up the situation but what should you do?

”Nah don’t worry, not anymore. And you‘re here for work? I read you’re from London?“

”Yes, had some meetings with clients. I moved there for my work, I love it there. And what about you? Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in some exotic place for holiday?“

”Kinda, I visited Tomorrowland yesterday to see my friend Martin Garrix and tomorrow I have tire testing for Pirelli, so no holiday for me just yet.“

”Ah that’s fun, what are you doing for the holiday?“

”I rented a yacht for my friends and family, you should come!“

”Oh, yeah“, you blushed, ”let’s see if I still want to see you after tonight, maybe you have a small dick.“ you smirked. You wanted to get to the point of why you were here. The wet panty proofing it to you, dinner could wait, the wetness between your legs not.

He looked at you with an open mouth.

”Me and a small dick? Baby, you have no idea what’s coming.“

With that, he put his hand on your thigh dangerously close to your core. You let out a shaky breath.

”The thing is, I joked about not making it until dinner, but I really don’t think I can resist you that long, knowing you’re probably wearing sexy lingerie under your sweats and crop top.“

You could see his eyes getting a shade darker than they were when you first saw him.

”Why don’t you find out for yourself?“, you wanted to sound sexy and just prayed to whatever lord, that it did.

And before you could think about it for another second, he took you and placed you in his lap, putting his hands on your waist. His lips looked absolutely delicious, you wanted to taste them, feel them on yours. As if Lando could hear your thoughts, he pressed his lips on yours, moving them, and slipped his tongue into your mouth searching for yours. You let out a quiet moan and nudged his tongue with yours. Your hands found their way into his hair, slightly pulling on the strands, hoping that that was something he was into.

Your lips creating the loudest sounds, every time they smacked together, taking deep breaths in between. Lando left your mouth and his kisses wandered slowly down your neck, leaving a trail of wetness behind (not only on your neck) and he slightly bit the skin of the side. Without you realizing it, you moved your hips against his, dryhumping him. Lando’s hands wandered under your crop top and slowly pulled the material up, to remove it, you held your arms up to make it easier for him. When the dark blue lace appeared, he let out a breath.

”Fuck babe, you’re killing me. Even better than I imagined.“

You could just hum because he immediately attached his lips to your chest, sucking on the skin that was now freed. That felt so fucking good. Your hands went back into his hair, attaching themselves to the brown curls.

”Le-Let me“, you pressed out, wanting to explore his neck as well. That was one thing you always found sexy, his thick neck, you wanted to touch and kiss it and now you finally could.

He let go of your chest and looked at you with big eyes, you pressed a kiss on his lips and did the same then he did minutes prior. Wandering down his neck and slightly sucking, you didn’t want to leave a hickey but some sucking never hurt anyone. Satisfied with what you did, you let go of his skin and licked over the said area, feeling him shivering under you. You could also feel something hard under you, and if you were correct you wouldn’t be disappointed. It felt the right way, thick and long enough but not too long.

With a quick heartbeat, you left his lap and slowly made your way in front of him, you wanted to see for yourself if you were correct. So you sank to your knees and looked up at him through your lashes, he groaned and his head fell backwards.

”Fuck babygirl, you make it so hard for me, I could just burst right now.“

”I make things hard for you? Oh Lando, trust me, I know.“

With that, your hand slipped across his bulge, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes focused on you again, he could almost see how hungry you looked at his dick as if it would be your last meal.

”I want this off.“

You tucked at his sweats, impatient to finally get to his member you haven’t met yet.

”Impatient are we?“, Lando acted all cocky now, but you both knew, that when you touched his dick with your delicate hands, he would turn into a puddle. With that, he lifted his hips and you were able to pull the sweats down, seeing him wearing no underwear.

”No underwear?“, you asked with crooked eyebrows.

”Figured I didn’t need them since you were going to remove them anyway.“

When his sweats was finally pulled lower to where his dick was, his member sprung towards you, he wasn’t fully hard yet but you could work with that. You gave his sweats the last pull and they were pooling at his feet, you immediately got to work. Not wasting a second of not touching him, you grabbed his member, which laid heavy in your head, and let a thread of saliva fall onto his head, moving your hand up and down, spread the fluid evenly, feeling him hardening with every stroke you gave him.

”You‘re killing me. That feels so fucking nice.“

The praise made you smile. At least he felt satisfied, that was already good.

”Put it in your mouth babygirl.“

So you did just that, you opened your mouth and gave it a long lick, from the bottom, to the tip. Your lips closed around his head, circling it with your tongue. Looking up, he had an open mouth and his eyes looked satisfied, you wanted to do more, slowly taking his member down your throat. Lando let out a moan and reached into your hair with his hand, making a messy ponytail to hold on to.

When you reached your limit, you grabbed the rest of his dick with your hands, following the movements you did with your mouth.

”Fuck baby, that’s enough, or else I‘m going to cum down your throat, I want to taste you first.“

With an unsatisfied hum, you let go of his dick and pouted.

”Let me take you to the bed.“

You nodded and he pulled you back onto his lap, standing up as if you weight nothing and walking with you into the bedroom. The bedroom was nicely decorated and from the window, you could see a beautiful sunset, but that wasn’t something you wanted to pay attention to. He sat you down on the soft bed and you shifted to the end of his bed, laying your head on his pillow. You inhaled the scent that came across your nostrils, fully smelling Lando. If you wouldn’t be up to different things right now, you would turn around and never stop sniffing his pillow. Was that creepy? Probably.

”You need to tell me, when I need to stop, yeah?“

You nodded, not being able to say anything, excited for what was about to happen. He laid on his chest between your legs, tugging your own sweats down. With a groan he let his head fall onto your thigh, seeing your lace panty made him weak in the knee, thank god he was laying down.

”Did you put Parfum on your legs? God baby, you‘re so fucking sexy.“

”You like it?“

”Are you kidding? Fuck yes.“

He placed kisses on your thighs, and with each kiss, he got closer to where you needed him the most.

”I can smell you from here baby.“

You propped up your legs and he removed your panty with a swift move. Seeing your glistening core, he almost drooled.

”You‘re so fucking wet and I didn’t even touch you properly yet.“

”Ever since you texted me, I was almost not able to resist touching myself.“

”Fuck Baby.“

Before you could respond he licked with his flat tongue over your pussy, collecting most of the wetness that left your core already.

”You taste so sweet, Angel.“

With a groan you placed your hands in his hair, pulling on the strands again.

He flicked your bud of nerves several times then went back to toy with your entrance. A moan escaped your mouth when he inserted his tongue inside of you and with his nose he nudged your clit.

”Lan-“

”Go on, cum for me Y/N.“

Without a warning he inserted his pointer and middle finger into you and focused on your clit with his tongue, moving everything in a rhythm together.

”Fuck Lando, I‘m gonn-“, and before you could finish that sentence, your back arched and the pleasure washed over you, leaving a pulsating feeling in your core. With one last lick, Lando got up and positioned himself over you, his face glistening with your juices.

When he pressed a kiss on your lips you could taste yourself and let out a groan.

”Your skin is so fucking soft Y/N“, Lando said while he caressed your sides.

”Are you ready to take me?“

You just nodded, not being able to say a word. He already made you feel so good and he wasn’t even in you yet, you needed him, you needed him bad.

”I need you, Lan.“

”Good girl. Do you have a condom?“

”No but I‘m on birth control, you don’t have to use one, as long as you’re clean.“

”I sure am.“

His dick twitched at the thought of feeling you without a rubber, the skin on skin contact making him feral.

Taking his cock in his hand, and moved his tip through your folds, wetting his member. He looked you in the eye, silently asking you if you were ready. You nodded your head and pulled his head to yours to press a kiss on his lips, which he returned, sucking your lower lip into his mouth before pulling back and focusing on the cock in his hand. Slowly pushing his tip to your entrance, you closed your legs around his back and nudged him to push more into you. He slowly slid fully in you, as you gasped at the new sensation and felt full. He filled you up perfectly, it was like you were made for each other, stretching you in all the right places. He stood still and waited for your nod of approval to move. You clenched around his cock.

”Fuck Y/N, do that one more time and I won’t be able to hold back.“

You giggled and nodded your head, indicating him that he could move. He pulled his dick out and forcefully pushed him back in. You both moaned at the sensation.

”I hope you know how good you feel, it’s amazing.“

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at this compliment. You loved this dirty talk he did, complimenting you. He took his hand and started to play with your clit while still pounding in you. You could feel yourself getting dizzy, the new stimulation giving you the perfect pleasure.

”Fuck Lando, you’re making me feel so full.“

He grunted at that statement. Speeding up with his movements, as well as rubbing and flicking your clit. Your moans getting higher with every thrust.

You could feel your release getting closer.

”Lando, I‘m gonna cu-”

”Baby cum for me.“

With that you felt your inside snap and the orgasm taking over your body, your eyes rolling in the back of your head and your legs started shaking. While you were on your high, Lando went and left kisses on your neck, slightly sucking, leaving faint purple bruises behind.

When you came back down you focused on Lando, clenching around him, trying to get him to cum as well. Sinking your nails into his shoulders and leaving little crescent moons on his skin, they would probably still be seen tomorrow. He groaned and his head fell down on your shoulder, panting. You could feel him painting your insides white, you moaned at the feeling.

”Fuck darling, you feel so good.“

He did some last thrusts to ride out his orgasm and then almost let all of his weight fall down on you. Your hands immediately went into his hair, stroking it while he still had his now softened dick inside of you. He lifted his head and pressed his lips on yours, moving them and creating smacking sounds.

Slowly pulling out, you could feel his and your mixed cum dribbling out of you, enjoying this sensation, Lando sat up and swiped his thumb over your labia, liking how it looked. He wiped his cum covered thumb on the white bed sheet.

”I‘d love to stay here with you, but I need to pee. It’s not very romantic but I don’t even wanna know what happens if I don’t.“

You sat up and Lando replied with a: ”Yes, please go, it’s important. I don’t want you getting a bladder infection after having mind blowing sex.“

You scoffed and got up, ”Mind blowing?“

”What is that supposed to mean?“

You turned around looking into his face, you both were smiling brightly, still having that post sex glow, but also because you joked about the sex you just had. It was fantastic. You started walking towards the en-suite bathroom.

”You were good Lando, but mind blowing? I don’t know.“

”My cum dribbling down your thigh is saying something else.“

You blushed and looked down at your thigh, seeing the white drips rolling from your core. You didn’t know what to say to that and went to the toilet to do your thing. Returning just shortly after, you sat in the bed next to him.

”You want to order some McDonald’s and stay over?“

Part two

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #lando norris one shot #lando norris x y/n

[thetriumphantpanda]

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

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

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

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

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

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

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

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A few weeks, probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’ll be a no then.”

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

“You look well.”

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

“So do you.” You compliment back.

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

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

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

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to show you?”

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

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

“Second.”

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

“Which room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I asked you not to?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been looking at you.”

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

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always, Marcus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

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

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Marcus, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

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

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

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

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie dads #drabble #christmas #fluff

[alittledizzy]

in relation to that post about writers who are sticking around, here's my ao3 and here are some of my fics. i made my friends and charlotte pick which ones i should rec so if it's a weird selection or you're offended by any of them, blame them.

all the little favors you do (1.1k, teen) - Dream barely registers George trying to prank him because he's just that fucking tired.

if you don't jump (7.7k, explicit) - George has a type, and right now that type is just one man. Unfortunately that one man is an idiot, as Larray is frequently willing to tell him.

one more round and you're down (2.8k, teen) - George finds hell, and hell is a hotel bathroom with a tiled floor he kneels on long enough to bruise his knees.

this is me trying (7.1k, teen) - George doesn’t want anything to be different, except maybe that he could walk into a room without Dream or Sapnap looking at him like he’s not who they thought he was.

i've developed a taste for you (3.8k, explicit) - George has an oral fixation.

never seen anything so obscene (7.2k, explicit) - An impromptu road trip to get Karl home after a missed flight leads to George realizing something very new about Dream (and himself).

one way ticket (60k, explicit) - George's family tells him he has to either get a job or go back to school... so in May of 2019 he applies to university in Florida and shows up on Dream's doorstep. Neither of them are really expecting Dream's youtube channel to blow up just after George moves in.

co-written with alisonsomething

post-it notes and loose change (37.2k, explicit) - It’s February 2022 and Dream can't stand to see George alone, waiting, and getting lost to the storm clouds chasing him. So he spends four days in London, trying to help George find the light.

let's make this night last forever (18.5k, explicit) - When the space between George and Dream starts to feel too big, they make it small.

praying for love in a lap dance (7.3k, explicit) - George is dragged to a strip club with his old uni friends. When he gets home, he tells Dream all about it. Every explicit detail.

burn bright (46.8k, explicit) - When their house catches fire, Dream and Sapnap are not home. But George is.

[mountingpulisic]

IT ISN'T THE SAME

“mason, what the hell are you doing here? shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?” you asked, dumbfounded by the chelsea midfielder on your doorstep.

when you heard the aggressive knocking at your door at one am you thought it was going to an intruder, not your idiot of an ex-boyfriend, mason mount.

not caring enough to answer your question, mason brushes past you. entering your home as if it was his own, stopping in the foyer.

“tell me it’s not true.” mason demanded, “tell me that declan is lying.”

you wouldn’t have any issue debunking whatever mason was asking about however you just needed to know first what the claim actually was.

“mason what are you talking about?”

“tell me you didn’t take the job, y/n.” you two had spoken at the same time, simultaneously interupting each other.

silence then fell between the two of you, and your lack of a response confirmed mason’s worries.

“why?”

“why? i don’t know maybe because it’s my dream job mason? the job i’ve busted my ass off for the past year? the promotion i rightfully earned?” you scoffed.

you had taken a job offering a few days ago. however, the corporate office was based in sydney, australia, exactly ten thousand five hundreds and fifty-three miles away for london, away from your family, away from your friends, away from him.

if the two of you were still together, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity the moment your boss called and told you about the position. you would’ve called mason first and spoke about how much the change was going to affect your relationship. listed the pro's and cons of the move, biggest one being mason. you would’ve decided then and there if your career was more important than your relationship with the footballer.

however, you two weren’t together. having broken up two weeks prior due to mason wanting to focus on the world cup. you strangely understood when he confined into you about it, knowing that a distraction wasn’t something he needed during a crucial moment in his career.

“please just don’t go, y/n. there are other jobs? jobs that are here london?” mason pleaded.

you looked at him quizzically to see if he was actually being serious right now.

“okay, mason. since your asking that of me, why don’t i ask you aren’t there any more chances at a world cup? it comes every four years, you being “distracted” for this one wouldn’t hurt, right?”

mason shook his head, “that isn’t the same, y/n.” he defended.

“why isn’t it the same, mase? because i’m asking you to give up something you love? is it only okay when you do it? not me?” you didn’t mean to raise your voice, but with the anger brewing inside you, it started to project higher naturally.

shaking his head frustrated, mason’s hands dragged down his face causing him to let out an angry exhale.

“you don’t even need to bloody work, y/n! isn’t it like every girls dream to be taken care of by their boyfriend?”

“no, mason it’s not and last time i checked, you weren’t my boyfriend.”

you couldn’t believe the nerve on this guy right now, asking you to give up your career when you were so willingly okay with the fact of him breaking up with you to focus more on his.

“we are on a break until the world cup ends, you agreed to that.”

“a break or a break up? what does it even matter mason?! you’re still asking me to put by career on the back burner while you're off living your childhood dream.”

“yes, but the thing about the world cup and my job darling, is that i’ll be back home, you are deciding to permanently change your postal code!” this time, it was mason who shouted.

you were positive steam was coming from his ears as he turned red from all the anger.

“if you are asking me to choose between my career and you mason, i’m choosing my career.”

if it was as if the words you just spoke, broke something inside of mason. eyes softening drastically, words he was beginning to speak had stopped in the middle of his throat.

mouth gaping open and closed, he stared at you in disbelief.

“don’t you dare look at me like that, because you know damn well you would’ve done chosen the same thing.”

with that, you opened your front door, that not even thirty minutes ago mason came knocking on.

“i think you should go now mason; you wouldn’t want to miss your flight."

part two

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine

[3rdsleeper]

r/s fics rec list!

(simplified by highly specific tropes)

remus does not want sirius paying his rent and sirius is having a normal one

inflations, invitations and flirtations by mblematic

summary: The Li-Lo at Lupin's. In which plenty of people crash on Remus' air mattress after Hogwarts, and Sirius isn't jealous at all. complete - 9k

practical oddities by lurikko

summary: Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands. complete - 47k (ok this one technically they do live together, but its not necessarily remus' first choice iykyk please read it)

how remus got his groove back by RealityShowJunkie

summary: Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot. complete - 42k

the son and heir of nothing in particular by aeridionis

summary: Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened. complete - 23k

frog and toad aren't friends anymore by swordfishtrombones

summary: “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.” complete - 10k

an episode of skam (in the sense that remus is avoidant dismissive /j /j)

the lord of desperate longing by reyghost

summary: Sirius has a lot of feelings, Remus has his own issues too, and James is a very good best friend complete - 13k

and only felt good while moving by aeridionis

summary: The summer before university, Sirius falls in love and throws a punch and then he makes a friend. complete - 17k

SHAME by wiltedtddaisy (taotu)

summary: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse. complete - 82k

angle of doubt by mblematic

summary: The Map had been going missing. Or—not missing, exactly. Sirius always knew where it was; Remus had been spiriting it away. Which, it should be said, was fine. Really. complete - 9k

a bird at your door by moongnome

summary: Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out. complete - 31k

if you're the bassist, and i'm the lead singer, then who’s flying this plane?

the cadence of part-time poets by motswolo

summary: After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost. complete - 979k

dress up in you by MsKingBean89

summary: Sirius attends a charity rock gig organised by his best friend's girlfriend, and the tall, quiet bassist catches his eye... complete - 88k (ok sirius is not in a band in this one but please just go with it)

sirius black & the six by BellaBabe

summary: Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.” “Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.” Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.” Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. complete - 79k

saturday nights and sunday mornings by SoupyGeorge

summary: A story about music and family, the price of fame and finding love somewhere completely unexpected. (its an arctic monkeys au) complete - 121k

sirius black learns the meaning of true love. remus lupin does too but in a much more put together and chill way

a series of sketches done in black ink by musntgetmy

summary: Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing. complete - 57k

dissonance by renaissance

summary: Remus searches for solace in all the likely places, but somehow he keeps coming back to Sirius Black. Featuring sad acoustic indie, spearmint gum, and irresponsible usage of social media. complete - 4k

the time when you were mine by renaissance

summary: the walk from Grimmauld Place to Parliament Hill is just under an hour, but it's easier going at four in the morning complete - 9k

as red as hearts and autumn by Rosie_Rues

summary: it's the autumn of sixth year, theres a flu epidemic at Hogwarts, and the Blacks want their heir back. complete - 43k

#fic recs #do people still make these? wtv #wolfstar fic rec #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #hp fic rec #marauders

[totowlff]

chapter four — distance education

➝ nobody said that learning remotely was easy

➝ word count: 2,9k

➝ warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, masturbation, use of toys

➝ author’s note: i know it wasn't what you expected, but i hope it's what you wanted.

The sun was shining brightly over Melbourne that morning. The movement in the paddock was intense, an indication that this would be a day of intense activities on the track. However, Toto's good mood was not due to the conversations with George and Lewis or the positive prognosis for the sessions that would take place later. It was because he received, early in the morning, a good morning message from Ava.

Contrary to what he would have liked, she had stayed working in London. He even tried to convince her to go with him, but Ava refused, stating that the distance would serve Toto's learning process and she hoped he would take it seriously. And by taking it seriously, she meant that he should completely control his sexual desires and impulses.

It was simple in theory.

But, in practice, it was the biggest challenge of his life.

It started during the flight to Australia, when Ava sent a photo of a drawer full of lingerie and babydolls, stating that she was undecided which one to wear for their next meeting. With his lower lip between his teeth, he typed that he didn't mind that, since he knew she would look wonderful in all of them.

“Wrong answer”, Toto thought, as he stared at the photo Ava had sent.

In front of a mirror, her face was hidden by her cell phone, giving all the attention to the babydoll made entirely of lace that showed off all her curves, leaving practically nothing to his imagination. Letting out a heavy sigh, he typed out the first compliment he could think of before looking back at the image, practically mesmerized.

— Buying new pajamas? — someone asked next to him. When Toto looked up, he found the mischievous smile of Frédéric, who had the newspaper he was reading on his lap.

— Huh?

— Is that babydoll for you? — the team principal rephrased his question, pointing his head at the cell phone screen, where Ava's photo was still in display. Staring at the image again, Toto felt his face heat up.

— No, no, I'm not buying anything — he replied quickly.

— So you're just watching porn, got it — Fred said, before letting out a laugh, making Toto flinch, feeling his cheeks even hotter than before.

— It's not porn, it's just a photo.

— Very sexy by the way…

Noticing that the Frenchman was still staring at the image of the woman on the screen, he tried to hide it, preventing him from seeing more. It sounded counterproductive, but Toto couldn't help but feel a certain anger when he thought about Ava getting the attention of other men. It was a selfish feeling, not to say naive, since he knew the possibility of a dominant having several submissives, but Toto wanted him to be the only one in her life.

— Who is she?

— Who are you talking about? — he returned the question.

— The woman, who is she? — Fred insisted.

— Nobody.

— Your new girlfriend?

— What if she is?

The Ferrari boss smiled.

— Consider me surprised since no one has entered that ice heart of yours in years — Fred said — I think the last woman you introduced me to was your sister and that was almost ten years ago.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— You really are an idiot.

— That means you have a girlfriend, then — the man murmured, before looking to the side — Christian, did you know that Toto is dating?

Turning his face, he noticed that Christian Horner was heading back to his seat on the plane. He was returning from another trip to the bathroom, courtesy of the food poisoning he had arranged to disturb him during the flight. However, his indisposition did not prevent a sparkle from appearing in his eyes, as well as a malicious smile.

— Does he? What's her name?

— It doesn't matter to you — Toto murmured, while a new notification from Ava flashed on the phone’s screen. That made him quickly take the device in his hands, expectation growing in his chest — Actually, it doesn't matter to both of you, I shouldn't have said anything.

As if realizing he was anxious, the two team principals laughed.

— Apparently she's a good catch — Christian murmured, as he sat in his seat — Is she younger than you? Be careful not to bore her with your old man things, women don't like that.

— Old man things?

— Yeah, things old people do…

— Like shooting at plates in the English countryside? — Toto questioned, a certain irritation crackling in his voice. Christian narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed together for a few seconds.

— Like being an asshole on a plane — he said, before muttering a curse under his breath and turning around, walking quickly towards the bathroom. Toto's eyes met Frédéric's, who was shaking his head.

— You two are completely insufferable — he muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Toto simply closed the partition between his cabin and the plane's aisle. After taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to his phone, which still had Ava's notification shining on the screen. Unlocking the device, he came across a new photo of her, this time, with an even more daring piece. With gold details that resembled the reflections of the sun on sea water, the fabric did little to cover her nipples and pussy. “Do you think this one is better?”, the caption of the image asked him.

Before he could type the answer, a video appeared on the screen, his eyes widening at the sight of the thumbnail, his cheeks unbearably hot. Running a hand through his hair, Toto shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, without taking his eyes off Ava's tour of the piece, revealing the completely open back with a giggle.

— Maybe I'll use it while I suck you, so you can have a privileged view — she asked in the video, with a suggestive tone — Can you imagine seeing my pussy dripping with lust in front of you, begging for your cock inside it? Tell me what you think, little boy.

“This woman is going to kill me”, he thought to himself, putting down his cell phone and finding a not-so-subtle bulge in his pants. As he covered himself with the blanket he had been given by a flight attendant hours before, Toto couldn't help but be impressed by the power Ava had over him, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

And it had only been the beginning.

There hadn't been a day that she hadn't sent him a provocative or suggestive message. The photos of Ava's lingerie collection were already accumulating in his private folder, as were the videos and audios, all with a domineering tone that made him think about taking off his own pants and taking the matter into his own hands once and for all.

— You can't, Toto, you can't — he repeated to himself one night after dropping the phone on the bed, the image of Ava's new skirt, the back of which was made of buckles on a transparent tulle, shining on the screen. He had given his own pleasure into her hands, and that meant it was no longer up to him to decide about it.

The worst thing about it wasn't the distance or the maddening lust, but rather that all it took was one stern look from Ava for him to confess every time he had touched himself without her permission. And the consequences would be brutal, he was sure.

It was that context that made the arrival of Friday and the free practice sessions a real relief for Toto. In that situation, all he needed was something to occupy his mind, other than the impressive amount of lace and satin pieces that Ava had in her closet.

After waving to a circuit employee and taking a selfie with a boy waiting near the structure set up for the Mercedes, he entered the space with a smile. Saying a cheerful good morning to the catering team and making a joke with one of the engineers who was having coffee there, Toto headed to the small office set up for him.

Dropping his carry-on bag onto the table, he had just sat down when his cell phone began to vibrate in front of him. When he picked up the device, Toto felt a shiver run through his body when he read Ava's name on the caller ID, along with the word FaceTime. “What does she want now?”, he asked himself, before touching the green circle.

— Good morning, little boy — Ava's teasing voice sounded through the cubicle. Taking up practically the entire screen, her face had a sweet, almost innocent smile.

— Good morning, ma'am — he replied, pausing for a few seconds as he remembered the time zone — Good evening, I mean.

— How are you? Excited for today's sessions?

— I'm fine, ma'am. Excited may be too much, but yes I am looking for it.

— That's good — Ava murmured.

— What about you?

— I'm fine too — she replied — Just a little bored.

— Bored? — Toto said, giggling nervously. Ava nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips, neatly painted a shade of pink.

— Yeah. So I decided to do something.

— To call me?

— No — she laughed — I called you to show you what I'm going to do.

Toto didn't have time to ask before Ava walked away from the camera, revealing that she was wearing only black satin lingerie, with no lace or any transparency. Running a hand over his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a familiar shiver run through her body as she climbed into bed, neatly dressed in black sheets. Above her fabric, the silver glow of something slightly curved caused the air to catch in his lungs.

— Ma’am…

— I know you've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be inside me for the first time. I know you thought if it wouldn't be better to just ignore everything and fuck your hand while imagining you're here — she said, opening her legs dramatically. If the panties didn't allow Toto to have any glimpse of Ava, the opening in the middle of it allowed him to see her pussy — Isn't that right, little boy?

— Yes, ma'am — he murmured, mesmerized by the arousal that oozed from her folds and shone in the soft light of the room.

— I thought you might have an aperitif, you know? Since you're so far away from me but you want to touch me so much — Ava said, with a devilish smile on her face as she picked up the silver object next to her. The constant buzzing made Toto conclude that it was a vibrator.

— Ma’am…

— Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have my body to yourself for one night? — the words dripped like honey from her lips as Ava slid the flat tip of the toy down her inner thighs — Being able to touch me without any restrictions or rules? Feel my heat completely surrounding your cock? Hear my moans in your ear, begging you to go faster, harder, to fill my pussy with your cum?

Ava's narration drew those scenes almost automatically in Toto's mind. Her eyes full of desire and her lips parted, as if in a silent request for him to speed up, for him to give her what she wanted. And Toto was willing to give whatever his mistress wanted, even if it cost him his own sanity.

Bringing the vibrator close to her pubis  itself, Ava's eyes closed momentarily, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs, as if the promise of something good was on the horizon. And Toto never wanted so much to be the person who made her feel good.

— Yes, I did — he replied, as the silver tip of the toy drew slow circles on the upper portion of her pussy — I always think about how to please you, ma'am.

— If I told you to satisfy me now, what would you do, little boy? — Ava asked, her eyes squinting at her cell phone as she slid the toy through her own folds.

Toto shifted in his seat, feeling his cheeks getting even hotter. At that point, he didn't need to look down to know that he was hard from that completely explicit image of Ava, coupled with her words and teasing.

— I would start with your breasts, ma'am.

— Do you like my breasts? — she asked, with the shadow of a smile on her face.

— Yes, ma'am. I love them.

— And what would you do with them?

— I would kiss, lick and suck your nipples until they were hard — he replied, as he saw her hand move up her torso towards her bra, squeezing the soft skin. The air was trapped in Toto's lungs, his eyes analyzing that scene that seemed to have come from one of his most erotic dreams.

— And then? — she grumbled softly, moving the toy up and down against her labia minora, as if teasing herself.

— I would slide my mouth along your skin until I reached your pussy. And I would take my time to discover everything you like. I would discover the ideal rhythm, the position of the tongue, whether you like me to use my fingers or not…

— Yes — Ava sighed, her tone almost revealing vulnerability.

Faced with that scene, Toto had the impression that pleasure was the place where she stripped herself of titles and rituals. And seeing her like that, so absorbed in the sensation she was causing in herself with the vibrator, made him place one of his hands over the bulge in his pants, as if that could help alleviate the unbearable lust he was feeling.

That was Ava's effect on him.

— Would you make me come with your tongue, little boy? — she murmured, her eyes meeting his through the screen.

— No, ma'am. You deserve more, much more.

Ava smiled.

— What do I deserve, then? — she asked defiantly, the tip of the vibrator resting firmly against her clit, her eyelids fluttering with the pleasure coursing through her body.

— My cock, ma'am. You deserve to feel him inside you, filling you and making you moan with pleasure. You deserve to enjoy the best I can give you.

A whimper escaped Ava's lips as she slid the vibrator into her own opening, rubbing the chrome tip against herself.

— Would you be gentle, little boy?

— Would you like me to be gentle?

She smiled, inserting the toy inside herself with a moan.

— Fuck — Toto murmured, his hand squeezing his own member under the fabric of his pants, as she arched her back, her eyes closed tightly.

— This… Yes, fuck, yes — Ava whimpered, her legs shaking as she sped up the toy's thrusts. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she found Toto's image on her cell phone, witnessing that scene practically frozen, as if any word or movement could ruin what was happening.

And in that split second, she shattered.

He was sure he could have accompanied Ava and cum in his own pants like a teenager from what he had just witnessed. Seeing her writhing with pleasure was something sublime, perhaps more pleasurable than anything she had ever given him behind closed doors.

It was the effect Ava had on him.

She was still catching her breath when Toto finally broke the silence.

— Ma’am?

— Hm?

— Would it be my turn now? — he asked, his voice sounding a little too naive.

Suddenly, Ava sat up in bed, one eyebrow raised.

— What made you think you would have your turn?

Toto blinked.

— Ah, well, I just made you cum…

Ava let out a giggle.

— Little boy, you're so innocent — she said, in a condescending tone — First of all, you saw me cum, you didn't make me cum. They are two different things.

— But I guided — Toto tried to argue.

— You watched, little boy — Ava interrupted him abruptly — And that's different from guiding, something you wouldn't do since I'm the dominant one here. Secondly, I think your insolence is reason enough for me to deny your request.

— Ma’am, I just…

— You questioned my intentions and wanted to take a place that doesn't belong to you.

— Please, ma'am...

— Have a good day, Toto — she said, before ending the call.

Staring at the screen in shock, he couldn't believe what had just happened. The best minutes of his life had turned into the worst in a matter of seconds, and the blame was solely on his anxiety to please Ava.

— Holy shit, Torger — he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made Toto adjust himself in his chair, inviting whoever was outside to enter. A few seconds later, Bradley's face appeared through the crack.

— Ah, you're there, Toto — he said — I thought you hadn't arrived.

— I just got here, Brad — he answered, still feeling his cock painfully hard inside his trousers — Any problem?

— No, no, I was just in a room next door and I heard a strange noise.

Toto felt his hands get cold.

— Strange noise?

— Yeah, like a whining or something. I thought it might be someone with a problem, but I didn't find anyone...

— There must be a television on in one of the briefing rooms, no?

— I think it's difficult — Bradley replied with a small smile.

— Why?

— I don't know if any of the televisions here have access to porn.

Toto blinked, his stomach dropping.

— Well, check it anyway. We never know if we are going to be victims of a virtual attack or something like that — he managed to say, trying to hide his own discomfort.

With a nod, Bradley closed the door.

And Toto was sure that he had barely escaped.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #toto wolff x oc #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #f1 x oc #liowlff #formula one fic #toto wolff fanfic #formula one fanfic #toto wolff smut

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Desecration

Pairing: Gabriel x Fem. Reader

Summary : Gabriel. The archangel fucking Gabriel. He who refuses to sully the temple of his celestial body in any shape or form. And now, he has been ordered to take a day off. What started out as a forced holiday ends up in a night of many delightful firsts. 

Themes : Slow burn | Smut

Warnings : Mention of Alcohol | Kissing | Foreplay | Casual sex / One-night stand | Light dirty talk | Hand job (Gabriel receiving)

Word count : 5.6k words

Minors DNI | 18+

This is part one of three separate fics, each with a different theme and a different character. The second, featuring Thranduil, and titled Temptation, will be up tomorrow, at the same time. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all  here

One entire day.

The Creator gave Gabriel time off after that entire debacle following the child of the Adversary and what should have been the war to truly end all wars. Everyone was roused up and angry, and the heavenly authorities didn’t like that. A decision was made, and everyone was given time off to cool off and clear their heads.

And Gabriel?

One day, twenty-four hours, were given to him—well, forced upon him, in his mind at least—to walk amongst mortals, loosen up, and indulge in everything they enjoyed. Gabriel shivered. To desecrate the vessel of his celestial body was unseemly. Vile, even. But, the Creator insisted, and Gabriel agreed. Very, very reluctantly.

Gabriel thought, "How does one indulge oneself?"  For his subordinate, Aziraphale, it was easy. He had lived among mortals since creation, and indulging was second nature to him.  Fine food and drink, dusty old tomes, tartan—those were just some of the things he liked. Next, there was that bottom dweller, Crowley. Now he would indulge in many things, especially Aziraphale. Oh, they would like to pretend as if nothing were going on, but everyone knew. The Creator knew too, but they didn’t care. They once even privately admitted to finding Crowley rather amusing. 

But enough of that. Where did all of this leave Gabriel?

At a complete loss, he finally gave up and let his feet take him anywhere and everywhere. Gabriel wandered around London, peeking through windows, sniffing out the scents wafting from bakeries, restaurants, and everything else. He found himself listening to street musicians and had his portrait painted. A beautiful one, if he said so himself. And he did say so himself. He was, after all, the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.

The hours melted into each other, and Gabriel grew to enjoy the many distractions that mortal life had to offer. By nightfall, his stomach growled. Gabriel was being told he needed to eat.

"You’re making sure I make the most of this, aren’t you?" Gabriel grumbled as he turned his eyes towards the heavens.

I said, enjoy yourself. The Creator’s voice was as clear as a crystal bell on a summer morning. And I’m making sure you get a little bit of motivation for it, so to speak.

Gabriel knew arguing was futile. As was rolling his eyes. The Creator saw all and heard all. Even the thoughts in his head. You can curse me all you want, they cackled, but you still have to go through with this. There was a pause. Another ten hours, in fact. 

It was only nine p.m. still.

Gabriel groaned, shook his shoulders, and composed himself. He walked into the nearest café and found himself a seat. The menu was extensive, but he was not in the mood for alcohol. 

"What will it be?" You asked as he looked around, trying to figure out what he should do next.

When he looked up the first thing that popped into your head was sculpted marble, long-limbed, strong and dark. The next thing that popped into your head was, get it together, you blithering idiot! He’s just another customer, that’s all.

Gabriel stopped his dithering, deciding to ask for suggestions. "I have no idea," he mumbled, scanning the menu again. "Anything you suggest? But," He lifted his finger. "Nothing to fuzz up the mind."

You huffed. That left out all of the cocktails. And the heavy stuff. Gabriel even waived off all offers for coffee, and he was not in the mood for tea. You grinned and pick up a mug in the end. "Hot chocolate it is, then."

Gabriel watched, thoroughly fascinated with the process. His mouth watered and a sigh rose from the back of his throat when the rich scent of cocoa powder wafted into the air. "And do you drink this with those tiny white things?"

"What?" What tiny white things? You look down at the mug in your hands and see tiny white blobs floating on top. Oh, he was referring to the marshmallows. "You don’t drink them," you said, trying not to raise an eyebrow. "You eat them. They’re quite nice."

"Fascinating," Gabriel said, rubbing his hands together with surprised glee. The prospect of consuming something he once saw as gross matter appealed to him greatly. "Would this count as a meal?"

This time, an eyebrow of yours was raised. "I... what?"

"I’m not from around here," Gabriel added quickly. He was told to enjoy himself, but without giving his true identity away. "Um, this is all new to me."

"Are you from some far-flung corner of the world no one knows about or something?"

Say yes, say yes, rang The Creator’s voice. "Yes," said Gabriel. "From a very remote town in," the Creator pitched in again. "A-alaska? in fact."

"Well," you say as you shake your head and pass the mug to him. Gabriel held up the mug, took a deep breath, and sighed. Now I know why Aziraphale likes living here so much. "If you’re looking to eat, this will go well with it."

Gabriel inspected the slice of chocolate caramel brownie. He sniffed and took a bite. The flavours that washed down his throat were a delight to the very soul. "Oh lord," he mumbled, as if in prayer, and took another bite, another sip of hot chocolate. Gabriel was overcome, even enraptured. The smell, the texture—nothing could compare. 

And he was never going to look down on Aziraphale and his love of mortal indulgences again.

The brownie and hot chocolate put him in a fine mood and loosened his tongue. Gabriel grew curious about you and asked many questions. "So why do you work in a place like this?" he asked finally. 

"I like the hours, I get to sleep in most mornings," you said, as you wiped down the counter. "And the pay is good, so--"

"It’s a win-win for you?" This is what he picked up from Aziraphale.

"It is, yes."

"And the people who come here?"

"A blur of faces, actually." You walked to the other side of the counter and made yourself comfortable on a stool next to him. It was a slow night, but Gabriel aroused your curiosity. Why not make the most of it? "They tip me, give me no trouble, and I pay them no mind." You picked up a glass of water and sipped. "Save for you."

That piqued his curiosity. "Really?"

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing to thin slats. "You’re the first person I’ve met who’s never heard of marshmallows before."

Gabriel leaned in and played along. "You’re kidding." 

Your lips were so close, you were sure if one leaned in any further, they'd be kissing the other. "Mm-mm," you mumbled and pulled back, helping yourself to some olives. "I’m not kidding. Just about everyone I know knows about marshmallows."

"There's always a first," Gabriel said, holding up his mug.

You clinked your glass against it. "Yes. Yes, there is. So tell me, what is a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Gabriel kept up a lively chatter while doing his best not to give much away. "And they messed up all our plans," he said, in light of Aziraphale and Crowley meddling with the end of the world. "Now we have to start all over again."

"It was just a small business project," you say while trying not to gawk at Gabriel. The way he carried himself was very much in the image of a man in charge, very much the image of a raven-haired god that had stepped out of some Renaissance artist’s studio. You gulped and looked away. "And no one was affected by it, so it can’t be that bad."

"Oh, if you only knew," Gabriel exclaimed as he finished the brownie and requested another. The taste did wonders for him, put him at ease. He looked around, first at the other tables, then at you, how you moved, how your wool sweater and leggings clung to you in the right places. Gabriel flushed, wondering what was going on with him. "And the worst part is, they got to run wild again. No consequences at all."

"Such a terrible pair, getting away like that," you swallowed hard and averted your gaze when Gabriel flashed the type of smile that any rational person would have labeled as a weapon of mass destruction. Trying not to hum, trying to ignore yourself going weak at the knees, you continue. "But since your boss isn’t mad, I suppose it’s not that big of a deal?"

The Creator and their ineffable plan. "No," Gabriel mumbled. "No, they’re not. In fact, they insisted I take the day off to recover from the whole debacle."

"That’s a great boss you have there."

Gabriel flashed that jaw-dropping smile again. "Indeed." He caught the faint hint of red tinging your cheeks and smile even more, his heart slightly aflutter. "Indeed."

The minutes seemed to melt into each other. Gabriel let you get back to work, content to hang around and savour all the food on offer while you were occupied. His body was a temple that should never be desecrated, that was what he always believed. But here, now, eating all the delicious food, and drinking soothing hot chocolate, he was convinced that a little desecration may not be so bad after all. When the time came to close up, and for him to pay, he was pleasantly surprised to find a shiny new credit card in a shiny new wallet.

You go over the company name on the card, "Gabriel, Celestial Holdings." Interesting, you think, but it doesn’t matter so long as the sale goes through. Much to your relief, and Gabriel’s, it did. "This is the name of the company you work for? And is your name Gabriel?"

"W-what?" Gabriel looked at the card, trying not to gawk. When he reached out for advice, all he got was white noise. The Creator had gone silent. Not knowing what else to do, Gabriel just nodded. "Yes," he said vigorously. "Yes. That is the name of the company. A family holding, if you will. And yes, my name is Gabriel."

"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "So is your dad the boss?"

"You could say that, yes."

"And the two who caused that epic mess?"

"My brother," Gabriel said of Aziraphale. "And a friend of my brother," he said of Crowley. "Curse my luck."

"Nepotism?" You purse your lips and return the card.

He came up with the only answer he could think of, one he’d heard Crowley give in such a situation. "In our line of business, nepotism is the only way to go."

"I see." You locked up the register and waited until your boss came out to close the shop. Gabriel watched too, realizing the night had to come to an end. He didn’t want it to come to an end. He flushed again when you smiled at him. 

"Is there anything else to do around here?" said Gabriel, as nonchalantly as possible. He never truly acquired the art of interacting with humans the way Aziraphale and Crowley did, and he hoped it wouldn’t show. "I have another," Gabriel looked at the time and calculated how many hours he had left. "Six hours left before I hit the road."

You looked up from rummaging through your purse. "Go on," your boss said. "Have some fun before heading home."

You lean over the counter, your mouth set in a grim line. "If you’re up to no good…"

"Nothing of the sort," Gabriel said calmly, raising his hands. "I just like spending time with you, that’s all."

There was this energy coming off of him, something you couldn’t quite describe, speaking to your gut and telling you to trust him, and there were plenty of places you could take him, all public and still full of people even at such an ungodly hour. "Alright," You grab your coat and your keys. "Follow me."

                                                     💫

Gabriel was enthralled. You showed him the sights and took him on a train ride.

He sat close to you, looking around, talking to those around him. Gabriel was so full of energy and considerate. If he felt a conversation was going on for too long he’d make excuses before turning to you with a grin on his face, as if nothing made him happier than to talk to you.

It made you happy to have him talk to you, to have his attention solely on you. After a pleasant train ride, and a pleasanter walk, you took him to a twenty-four-hour movie theater. It was a completely different experience for an angel who had never seen a film before. He had seen acting during a stint in ancient Greece, but modern movies were a novelty he had not experienced till tonight.

Finally, after some back and forth, the two of you settled on a romantic comedy. Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, especially during the romantic scenes. "Do people kiss someone like that, just because they’re acting?"

You nod over your popcorn. "Yes. Yes, they do."

"Interesting," Gabriel said as he leaned over to dust off a piece of popcorn that had fallen onto your blouse's collar. His fingers grazed against your throat. It was such a simple act, yet it made your pulse scramble, and your cheeks flush. You quickly face the screen, all too aware of Gabriel’s gaze on you.

Strange, how such a reaction could enchant him so. "We don’t have such things where I’m from."

"Really?" You shake your head in disbelief. "No films? No kissing?"

"No."

"No?" Your disbelief only grew as you gestured at the screen. "Then how do you know if the actors are even kissing?"

"I've been... taught the concepts," Gabriel said primly, his cheeks flushing with a sudden sense of embarrassment. "But I’ve not personally partaken in such acts, um…"

He was stumped. Here he was, a celestial being that was older than the universe itself, and he just admitted to never having been kissed before. Him. The Archangel fucking Gabriel. Oh, he could just see Crowley cackling over his wine now.

Gabriel wished for nothing else but a rock to crawl under.

You leaned in, and tilted your head to the side, your eyes filling with growing mirth. How you struggled to hide your smirk. And shock. This walking, breathing god of a man had never been kissed before? Unbelievable. You curl up in your chair, your chin resting on your fist. "You’ve never been kissed before?"

Gabriel seemed to shrink into his seat. "Yes," came the barely audible mumble.

Far-flung corner of Alaska indeed. "No girlfriend? Boyfriend? One of each?"

"Neither." Gabriel coughed, and straightened himself, trying to regain some sense of dignity. "Ever."

You take in those too-full lips of his and lick your own. “Would you like to?” You ask, stunned by your own boldness. “To kiss someone I mean?”

“I-” It was his turn to blush. “Yes,” Excitement washed over him, his senses coming alive at the thought of such an experience. To kiss for the first time, to feel for himself what mortals celebrated in poetry was something he no longer wanted to miss out on. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

You go over his admission, and then the time. You still had four hours left with him. Why ever not? 

"Come on," you take Gabriel’s hand and stand up. "Let’s get out of here."

He stood up and followed you out onto the aisle, his fingers impulsively lacing around yours, squeezing it gently when he felt your palm tremble against his.  "Where are we going?"

"To kiss," You whisper, just enough for only him to hear. "But only if you want to go through with it that is.”

Gabriel knew he may never get another opportunity like this, certainly not with someone like you. And he was told to enjoy himself. "Alright, where do we go?

                                                       💫

The cab ride to a nearby hotel was filled with anticipation. The both of you kept stealing glances from each other, then quickly turning away with red-tinged cheeks. At one point, you felt a hand graze your thigh, and a jolt go up your spine.

Gabriel felt it too. Anticipation, and a sudden, not-so-delicate sexual tug arrowing in neatly into his gut when his eyes skimmed over your thighs. His pulse was racing, he felt all hot and feverish and did his best to dampen it. It was just going to be a kiss, he kept telling himself. Nothing more. He looked at you and turned again quickly.

No no no. This wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it. He was an Archangel, for crying out loud. He couldn’t sully his vessel this way.

But was that really true? Couldn’t he let go for just a few hours at least? He was given the freedom to do so after all. Gabriel gulped and loosened his tie. He kept looking out the window, counting the minutes until the cab ride ended and the hotel came into view.

"And here we are," you say as the cab starts to slow down, startling him a little.

Gabriel insisted on paying for the taxi. He insisted on paying for the hotel room, and a sumptuous breakfast in bed for you. "You shouldn’t have to, you know," you said while you waited for the room to be booked. "I could have taken care of it."

"I insist," said Gabriel, pocketing the credit card. "It’s the least I could do."

He took your hand as you led the way to the elevator. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome." Gabriel grinned while the two of you stood on opposite sides of each other.

You cock your head to the side and study him. "So tell me, what will you do when you go back?"

"Go back to work, get cracking on the project again." He actually felt uncomfortable now, at the thought of ending the world.

"You look unsure now."

Gabriel, once certain that ending the world and the other side was the way to go, was now filled with doubts. True, the world was filled with darkness, despair, and misery, but it was also filled with joy and hope, and as he very recently discovered, you. He gulped. "I am," he confessed. "I thought our--" what was that word Crowley used? Oh yes. "Demolition plans were the way to go. And now…"

"Now you think this site deserves another shot at redemption, so to speak?" You said simply, just before the doors opened to the top-floor suite.

"Yes," Gabriel flushed with embarrassment. How quick he was, to pull the trigger on everything. And how oddly grateful he now was, that Aziraphale thought differently. Aziraphale and Crowley, obviously, but the demon would never hear that. If he did, then Gabriel would never hear the end of it. His eyes then went wide at the views that greeted him. "Oh my word," he gasped as he admired the night skyline, the lit-up buildings, and the full moon up in the sky.

You couldn’t hold back your awe either. "My word indeed."

You joined him by the window, the both of you staring out into the night sky like a pair of awe-struck children. "I’m so glad I decided to take this day off," Gabriel mumbled happily.

"I’m glad you decided to take the day off," you said as you gazed into the night sky.

A hand brushed against yours, startling you, and reminding you why you were here. "Right." You look around for the perfect spot. The chairs looked cozy but would grow uncomfortable in a while. The carpeted floor was out. That left only one place. The bed.

Gabriel’s gaze followed yours. A kiss was always perfect in bed. That’s what he had read about, anyway. "Perfect," he said as made his way over. "Jacket and shoes?"

"Off. Same for the socks." You mumbled as you slipped out of your boots and socks. "I'd never been a fan of socks and shoes in bed."

"I’ve heard of that," Gabriel shucked off his jacket, leaving a pair of well-toned arms neatly outlined in a fitted shirt. You gulped when sculpted back muscles flexed under crisp white cotton as he undid his tie. The urge to run your hand down that powerful back grew so strong. 

"Do mortals actually like that?" Gabriel went on, oblivious to the effect he was having on you. His shoes were the next to go, as were his socks. "Socks in bed?" He winced. "Very unappealing if you ask me."

"Mhmm.” You hummed when he made himself comfortable, and the bed suddenly looked so tiny in the process. So tall. You didn’t even realize how truly tall Gabriel was still now. He caught the way you were looking and raised an eyebrow. You felt like giving yourself a good smack to the back of your head. "Very unappealing," you said as you join him, sitting on the side of the bed.

And what a comfortable bed it was, even though it was just enough for the two of you and what had been planned to happen. You found your gaze drifting over his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves. Gabriel turned his head and caught you gawking again. You squeak, not knowing where to look. A shy smile tugged at his lips. He shifted and turned to his side. "So," said Gabriel, as butterflies fluttered in his belly. "How do we go about doing this?"

You tap your cheek with a finger. You better start with the basics. "Right." You sit up and encourage him to do the same. "You face me like so," You gulped when your eyes drifted to those lips of his. Oh, to feel those lips on yours. "And close your eyes."

Gabriel closed both, and then abruptly opened one. "And then what?"

"Just close your eyes, silly." You giggled when he shook his head and shut both eyes. "Or you’ll ruin the moment."

You then leaned over and placed your hands over his cheeks, letting your fingers trace over every bump and line. You felt his jaw clench. So strong. So very strong, and so very tense. "Relax," you whisper and lean in. "It’s nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about? Nothing to worry about?!? His first kiss was nothing to worry about. Gabriel was about to open his eyes, to protest, and then the air was knocked right out of his lungs when your lips pressed against his.

Gabriel could barely breathe, he could barely even think. All he could focus on was the softness of your lips, the taste of buttery popcorn still lingering in your mouth. The kiss felt so light and exuberant and left him feeling more than a little dizzy. His hands left his sides to glide up your waist while his mouth opened over yours. Gabriel felt light-headed again, this time when his tongue slipped past your parted lips and dipped into the warmth of your mouth. He felt like he was floating on air. A kiss should have been a mere trifle to a being like him, but there you were, robbing him of every thought, of every breath, just with the softness of your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly when his nose accidentally bumped into yours. Gabriel stopped for a breather, chest heaving, to gather his thoughts. He felt greedy and wanted more. He debated if he should take the initiative and kiss you. 

The sight of you all flushed, your pupils all dilated, made up his mind for him. “It’s alright,” you murmured before Gabriel dipped his head and dragged you in for another kiss.

This time it was a kiss that was rough and hungry leaving you breathless and gasping for air. Gabriel felt sure of himself now. Pure instinct was driving him along, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It made him want more than just a few kisses. "To hell with it,” he mumbled, his mouth greedy for yours.

It felt like a dam had burst and suddenly Gabriel was all over you. His kisses were demanding, his mouth plundering, taking all you were willing to offer him. His arms circled your waist in a vice-like grip. Your entire body trembled when your name blew through that sinful mouth of his. It felt soft and luscious, and you heard him groan when you answered him in a low purr. Feeling his lips skim over your chin, down your neck to the hollow of your throat made you gasp, especially when teeth gently scraped over your skin. When you reached up and grabbed onto his collar, to pull him closer, he moaned, “c-can I t-touch you?”

Your hands guiding his was too much for him. The softness of your skin beneath his palms turned his bones to water. Gabriel let his hands glide up your waist, let his fingers curl over your trembling belly. When he dragged you in again for another kiss, his fingers hooked around the hem of your sweater. You didn’t wait for him to ask. You simply helped him lift your sweater over your head before tossing it to the side. On the next kiss, you felt his hands reach back, then struggle with the clasp of your bra. “Let me guess,” you smirk and move your own hands to your back, to help him. “You were just taught the concepts?”

Gabriel, red in the face, nodded. “Exactly.”

You chuckle and toss your bra to the side as well. That was when Gabriel took the time to really see you.

Merciful creator, he thought. All his life Gabriel thought the earthly vessel that held his being was to be left without blemish and untouched, and devoid of any mortal influence. But seeing you like that, your lips already bruised, your eyes darkened with lust, well, it made him think that experiencing earthly delights and desecrating his body may not be such terrible things after all. He cupped your cheeks, taking his time to pull you in with a kiss.

This kiss was soft, tender, almost lazy. Gabriel pulled you onto his lap, holding you flush against him, a soft hum rising at the back of his throat. You felt every shaky breath he took, and relished every tingle as his hands went up and down your spine. When those hands cupped your ass, squeezing on soft flesh, you press yourself against him even more.

Gabriel took his time to savour every precious second. His heart raced when you arched into him. His pulse scrambled when you whimpered with each breath you took. More. His body kept screaming More. On impulse, he moved his hands up, to your hair, yanking on it and pulling you back. Warmth spread in his belly as he kissed his way leisurely down your neck, and in a move that surprised you both, he had you under him in a heartbeat.

“Very good,” you giggle, a gasp ripping through you when a cool hand glided over your ribcage.

“Well, I aim to please,” he replied huskily before dipping his head to taste.

Gabriel felt like he was pulled into a tunnel of darkened desire. His lips moved over a nipple, his tongue twirling around the already tender bud. He moaned, deep and throaty, when your legs hooked around his hips, when your fingers raked over his back. He trembled with desire as he moved from one breast to the other, a hand ready to take over what his lips left unattended.

And it still wasn’t enough. Gabriel, hard as ever by now, wanted to experience your body in all its glory. He placed a tentative hand over the waistband of your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can I?” he asked in a soft breath.

You say “yes,” as you lift your hips. Your body started to throb when warm fingers grazed against your flesh, goosebumps rising over your skin as Gabriel pulled down your leggings and your underwear, leaving you exposed.

He gulped as his eyes raked over your body. “Merciful creator,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

And he was still dressed. That had to be remedied, and quickly. You squealed when a shirt button popped and nearly hit you in the nose, so eager was he to get out of his clothes. His shirt was disposed of, as were the rest of his clothes. Fully naked now, Gabriel towered over you, like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life. You just wanted to reach out, and run a hand over his torso, but he put a stop to all by pushing you back into bed and crushing your lips with his.

Your skin felt so soft to his touch. If he had more time, Gabriel could have worshipped your body, as he rightly believed so. Alas, he didn’t have that time, so he did everything he could to make it count. He caressed your tummy when your arms went around his shoulders, groaning when you hooked your legs around his hips and your slick heat rubbed up against his cock. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “We may never see each other again after this.”

Having been pulled into a darkened tunnel of need, you assure him that yes, this is what you want. Gabriel dipped his head and kissed you again, his hand clamping down on yours and pinning it to the mattress. You had to help him, guide him, your entire body trembling at that intrusion. Gabriell’s moan was deep and ragged as his cock pushed deeper, throbbing around your velvety walls. You felt so good, so hot, it took every ounce of willpower he had not to just plunge in. Feeling your walls clench around his cock almost undid him, almost undid you. “You feel so good,” you breathed, biting your lip. “You feel so good inside me.”

That put a smile on his face. Gabriel moved, slowly, hesitantly, trying to get a feel of what kind rhythm you’d like. His thrusts were shallow, gentle, dragging out mewls every time his hips ground into your thighs. “H-harder,” you beg, “You d-don’t have to be gentle.”

Gabriel simply let go, gave into the madness that threatened to consume him. He slammed his hips against you, moaning every time you arched back or whenever your fingers raked down his skin. He dipped his head for a kiss. “I love how you taste,” he breathed. “You could intoxicate a man just by those lips alone.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back when he grew rougher with each thrust. Clinging onto him, your kisses deepening as he rode you relentlessly. Gabriel felt he was reaching the point of no return. He tightened his grip on your hand, caging you against the mattres. The sounds escaping his lips matched yours, the sheer pleasure of his hips slapping against your thighs made him plunge into you like a wild beast. Gabriel surrendered to the void, no longer caring of about if he got into trouble for this, for what he was doing to you. How could any of this be wrong when it all felt so right?

The room seemed to spin like all around you. You could feel your pussy quiver. Your muscles started to tighten, as if readying to snap. “D-don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

Gabriel pressed himself into you, his lips sinking into your neck. He felt the beckoning pull, of a taut cord that was about to snap in two, and  then--

And then it felt like your body had splintered. You threw your head back and cried out his name, your entire body shaking violently as you came. You were vaguely aware of Gabriel fucking you while you orgasmed, and when his embraces grew intense, too intense, you quickly regain some control and force him to his knees with you straddling him. Gabriel sputtered in utter confusion. “Wh-what? Did I do somehting wrong?”

You smile as you pull away from him, one hand wrapping neatly around his cock, the other gripping onto his shoulder for support.. “You did nothing wrong, I just prefer this.”

Gabriel moaned, buried his face in the crook of your neck as you pumped his length. The air was peppered with words uttered in a language you didn’t understand, but Gabriel was enjoying himself, you could feel it in the way he thrust his hips everytime you pumped his cock. When he was close you felt it, his cock stiffening, his breath catching, his hand moving above yours, as if to guide you. The bite along your neck went unfelt. You felt more than heard the deep moan, a spurt of warmth pouring over your hands as his body trembled voilently

His chest heaved, and gleamed with the faint sheen of sweat. Gabriel tried to find a sense of equilibrium, then pulled you into his embrace, wanting your lips over his again, before laying you back in bed. The both of you lay there, blissed out and exhausted, content to stay as you were as time slowly ticked by. 

There was no talking this time, just blissful silence. You hummed as your fingers traced their way over flawless skin, as if trying commit each bump and line to memory. Gabriel may never come back, you thought, but the memories of tonight would remain sweet and evergreen to you. When he stirred, you curled into him even more, sighing contentedly when his nose brushed against your hair.

Gabriel glanced at the time. Barely an hour left. He stayed with you, not wanting to leave until your eyes closed. You barely heard a whispered goodbye, barely felt the kisses that brushed over your cheek.

When you finally woke up, your entire body aching, there was a beautifully penned note, with a gold feather on top of it. The letter was sincere and heartfelt, and thanked you for everything. You grinned and stretched yourself, loosening the sore cricks in your body, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up for breakfast.

#good omens gabriel #good omens x reader #good omens smut #good omens #the archangel fucking gabriel #writeblr #fanfiction #ineffable angels #gabriel x reader #gabriel smut #one shots

[pencildragons]

moving on from this post, i am now assigning Everyone in the archives an instrument

tim: lies and tells everyone he can play harmonica. he cannot play harmonica. was actually a concert percussionist in the london symphony orchestra for four years. he is taking this secret to his grave (he thinks) (everyone else knows. he’s only fooling himself). he once accidentally wound up winning a stras violin in a bet, then donated it to a charity shop because he didn’t know how to play it.

sasha: CAN play the harmonica, chooses not to. played cello from second grade until her first year of university, has not touched it since the Bow Incident Of 2004. tim knows. is once convinced when very drunk to try the cello belonging to a pub band member. promptly rocked everyone’s socks off. was going to start playing cello again in july 2016, but--well. the NotThem has no interest in music.

martin: does not play an instrument, but desperately wanted to learn french horn. is a very good singer, however, and was a treble in his church choir until his mother got too sick. Nobody Has Heard Him Sing Ever

basira: nothing /affectionate. she can, however, dance very groovily, a skill Nobody Else in the archives possesses

daisy: she’s actually a very accomplished pianist, but did also once destroy an entire piano so now the entire archives thinks she hates musicians and all that they stand for. she owns a 17 year old keyboard that has electrocuted her twice

melanie: was classically trained as a singer, however i know in my heart of hearts one of her parents was australian, so she can also play lagerphone, bush bass, and the spoons Very Well. once she (accidentally) played the spoons on ghuk and the audience lost their fucking minds. she and georgie secretly have a two-woman bush band

jon: i mentioned this in the post that sparked this one, but he’s a violist. he also plays at least 5 other instruments and sings very well, but fundamentally thinks that viola is the coolest. he does everything by ear. one of these 5 instruments is squeezebox and another is electric guitar. i leave you, the reader, to decide the other three. people think he only plays viola because he never fucking shuts up about it

honourable mentions:

georgie: drum-kit. she cannot read sheet music. this was, in fact, one of the original attracting forces between her and jon, who can but doesn’t want to

gerry: the obvious answer is bass guitar, However. i think he also won prizes for banjo playing

dishonourable mentions:

peter lukas: treble tin whistle

gertrude: french horn. also piano. also the trumpet. also. uhh. hmm. there is a chance she may be able to play every single instrument ever

elias: nothing. he does, however, have perfect pitch (insult)

stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner: the recorder. badly.

#i am suddenly compelled to write an orchestra au #(jon's in the mechs on the side) #holy shit time to tag ig #timothy stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #basira hussain #daisy tonner #georgie barker #gerry keay #peter lukas #gertrude robinson #elias bouchard #jurgen leitner #tma #the magnus archives #words of wyrm

[sherifftillman]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: Aaaaaand THIS is where the real good stuff starts! Sorry for all the other posts, just had to start getting the ball rolling. I am aware that since this is taking place in modern London, there may well be slang used that people don't necessarily recognise. If you'd like me to make a glossary of some kind, hit me up!! I hope you enjoy Ralph In The Future as much as I do <3

"Bet it feels strange being behind here again, doesn't it?" the customer asks you. It's an older woman, you don't particularly recognise her, but she certainly seems to know you well enough to know you've been promoted since you first started working here.

You force a smile, "Not really! Sometimes the floor just needs an extra pair of hands, and it helps me know what's working and what isn't for my staff and my customers, so," you shrug.

"Yeah, I don't envy you, still working at a time when nobody wants to work," she shakes her head.

You press your lips together tightly. There are so many arguments you could make right now, but already trying to juggle two roles is taxing enough. Instead you simply tell the woman her total and ring her through. Once again adorning your best customer service smile, you thank her for her custom and send her on her way.

"D'you think she's ever worked a customer service job in her life?" Your shop floor assistant asks as they re-fold their display shirts.

You shake your head, "I think… Cushty little secretary job at her dad's business, at first. Never had to pay rent, got married to the first guy at that job to pay her attention, got a council house nice and early and spawned a couple of kids just to stop him from walking."

They let out a wide-eyed, long-drawn breath, "Daaamn, someone woke up on the salty side of the bed this morning!"

You chuckle humourlessly, "That doesn't even make sense. And yeah, sorry, it just… Really sucks that I've got major shit to do this week, but I can't just let you do all the work out here on your own, not with Karens like that around."

"Can't you get your friend to come down and cover? Or to do your manager shit on their next shift?" 

"Nah, it's gotta be me. And they can't come in today because of their other job, so I'm gonna do it as overtime," you explain dejectedly.

"You're doing great, champ!" they sidle up to you to gently punch you in the shoulder encouragingly.

"Hey now, kiddo, I'm the manager here, I need to be motivating you!"

"Nah, you're sales right now. You're just as good as the rest of us common muck," they tease, and you stick your tongue out at them.

The day drags, and the quality of customers certainly doesn’t improve. A man who thinks he can return an item without a receipt. A woman who insists on ordering an item that’s no longer available because she saw a friend wearing it just last week. Children. 

And sure, maybe now, at 5:40pm, the customer of your dreams could walk in through the front door. But you and your coworker are exhausted, and this is the kind of shit you always wanted to become a manager to do. Taking one last look up and down the almost empty high street, save for the ones who are heading to the Wetherspoons on the corner, you decide to start the closing process early.

You manage to finish a little after 6pm, and you consider just getting all of your admin stuff done while you’re here, but also, you really can’t stand the sight of these four walls much longer. You figure you’ll just go to the coffee shop nearby, get yourself an iced latte for the walk home and think about what kind of takeaway you’ll be craving once you get back to your flat. No cooking. Not tonight.

You’re well into a mental debate about whether you’d rather have a chow mein or a biryani when something else piques your interest. There’s a man in front of you in some kind of costume. It’s either really old-school military, or… Safari explorer. Maybe he’s one of those live re-enactors. Maybe he works at the zoo. Maybe he’s just one of those quirked-up little guys. You get your phone out to text your friends, ready to ask them if they’ve seen anyone dressed similarly before, but as you continue walking you collide with something.

Someone. Your flimsy plastic cup gets crushed immediately upon the impact, pouring ice cold coffee down the strangely-dressed man’s back. Your first instinct is to shout, “Watch it!”

The man jumps out of his skin, either at your words or the ice cubes soaking his back. He spins around to look at you like a deer in headlights. Eyes like giant chocolate buttons stare you down. If he’s supposed to be dressed as an Army boy, he does not have the face to convince me, you think. Unless the message they’re sending is that literally anyone could get drafted.

“You alright?” you ask, eyes narrowing and head cocking as you study him.

“Ah - um - oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! This was absolutely my fault, I’m just - I’m so lost, and I was trying to find a man and now he’s gone and - oh, blast, stupid Ralph, you’ve really gone and done it now!” the man flusters, looking in every direction except at you.

You whistle and click your fingers at his eye level. “Hey, Bambi! Focus. It’s okay.”

He moves his head back to scrunch his face at you in confusion. “Bambi?”

You smirk, “Yeah, you’re like a baby deer right now. You said you’re lost? Where’re you trying to get to?”

“Uh, well, I suppose I should try and find my home, um… Penbury House?” he asks tentatively.

You kiss your teeth a few times as you think of where you’ve heard that name before. “Oh!” You look at him, puzzled. “You sure that’s your house?”

“Well, my name is Ralph Penbury, so…” he wiggles his shoulders from side to side before shrugging. You appreciate the extra flair.

“Right, but Penbury House is the name of the place they turned into a Waterstone’s,” you explain. He looks lost again, so you explain, “Waterstone’s is a bookstore.”

Ralph scoffs, “Oh, pish-posh, my home has not become a bookstore! That would be quite preposterous!”

So far your entire interaction with this strange man has been a tennis match of bewilderment, just exchanging expressions back and forth. “Are you, like… On something, mate? Do you need me to get you somewhere safe?”

“I want to go home, please! And not a… Bookstore, my real, actual home!” He’s starting to sound quite overwhelmed now, so you take a step back.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. We can calm down. You mentioned looking for a man? Do you know this man?”

“Well, not personally, but I travelled here with him. About yea tall,” he holds his hand just in line with his eyebrows, “very old. Silent man. Hair just past his ears. Looks, um. Unwashed.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation. “Ah, Homeless Pete!” Makes sense that Pete and his crew would be involved somehow. “Shall we go and find him?”

“Do you know where he is?!” Ralph asks, his expression lighting up. He may be dressed like an absolute twat, but you can’t deny his adorable little puppy-dog face.

“I know where he hangs out, we can go see if he’s there?” you ask, and Ralph nods. “C’mon,” you jerk your head in the direction towards where you know Homeless Pete tends to hang out when he’s not walking the streets. You wonder what ol’ H.P. (as your friends call him) could have given his poor boy to make him trip like this. “So, uh, quick question. Sorry, I completely forgot. What’s the full date today?”

“Well, the last I checked, it was September the 7th, 1926,” he replies simply. You stop in your tracks, and he looks back at you with a frown. “What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing, nothing,” you shake your head and carry on walking. This poor boy must be on something pretty damn strong. “Let’s get you to H.P, yeah?” Just to find out what he’s taken. Then it’s straight to the hospital.

Ralph inhales so loudly that a guttural sound forms in his throat. “Oh my goodness! Do you think - am I in - the future?” He grips your arm tightly. “Was the lift a time machine, perhaps?”

“Maybe,” you tap his hand lightly with your own as you keep walking with him, "considering that it's September the 7th, 2022." Normally, you would be throwing any stranger that hugged your arm like Ralph now is to the ground, but there’s just something about him. Either he plays the innocent human puppy role far better than any indie boy that’s ever tried to hit on you on a night out, or he really is just going through it.

You eventually reach the underpass where a large part of the local homeless population gather, and sure enough, there is Pete himself, sat between two shopping trolleys. He spots the two of you and immediately bursts into laughter. “What the fuck, H.P?!” you yell. “You’re usually chill, what have you done to this poor boy?!”

“‘M not a boy, I’m a grown man, thank you,” Ralph mutters into your shoulder.

“‘Course you are, babe,” you murmur sarcastically as you nod at him, before once again turning to Pete. “Well?! You’ve got him talking about - about time machines, and the 1920s, I mean, just look at how the poor sod’s dressed!” Pete’s eyes widen as he waggles his finger at you, as though you’re both in a game of charades and you’re on the right track. You turn to one of the people Pete lives amongst, “What’s he been on today?”

The other person shakes their head. “Nothing, swear down! Besides, he’s a proper tight-arse, he wouldn’t go ‘round drugging any fucker going. ‘Specially not a toff like that,” they snort with laughter as they point to Ralph.

You look back to Homeless Pete. “So, you’re telling me. Time travel is fucking real.” Pete nods. “And you were in 1926, and you dragged this sad sack of shit out here with you, with no context.”

“You know I can hear you,” Ralph points out indignantly, but still quietly and still from the safety of behind your shoulder. His arms are still wrapped around yours, too.

“Yeah, but look at you, mate. You’re not exactly getting us answers as to how to get you back to… Wherever we get you back to,” you explain before once again turning to Pete. “Where is this… Time machine? Ralph said something about a lift.” Pete snarls as he gestures over to a block of flats you vaguely recognise. “So we go there, get him back in the lift, and then what? Is there a button, or a combination, or -?” Pete moves his hand from side to side. “And what does that mean, is it a random button each time?” Again, it feels like you’re in a game of charades as he silently tells you you’re on the right track. “Is the random part right?” Nod. “So, it’s not about the button, but… The floor you get on?” A shake of the head. “Is it just at random times?” Nod. “So, how do you know when to go back to it?” He shrugs, then points to his temple. “What, you get some kind of vibe, some Spidey sense?” He nods with an upside down smile. You sigh. “So we don’t know when Ralph here can get back.” A shake of the head.

“Do I have to stay here with him, then?” Ralph asks you sadly.

You sigh again. “No, c’mon. I guess you won’t want Chinese or Indian, we’ll just get a chippy dinner on the way home.” You start walking in the other direction, and Ralph quickly paces to catch up with you.

“A chippy dinner?” he asks, baffled.

“Yeah! Like fish and chips? They had that in the 20s, surely?” you reply.

“Well, yes, I suppose, but we only ever had it at the seaside,” he cocks his head as though reminiscing fondly. It only accentuates the cuteness of his whole face.

“Think you can be a big boy again now, or do you still wanna hold on?” you ask, outstretching your arm. He doesn’t appear to blush in the conventional sense, but his ears do flush a bright pink. Even more adorable. Fuck. Remember, he’s technically like a hundred years older than you. He slinks one arm around yours and you pull him in tightly by pressing your own arms towards your torso. “There we go. Now I can make sure I’m guiding you so that hopefully you don’t get bumped into anymore.”

“I think I’ve certainly learned my lesson in not standing still in front of people!” Ralph jokes, making you genuinely laugh for the first time all day. It feels strange, you can feel every muscle in your face move with it. But you also feel the weight on your chest lifting, too. You’d been at boiling point all day at work, and discovering a time-traveller wasn’t exactly helping you to simmer down. But you can make this work. He’s just an… Eccentric, extremely sheltered family friend who’s staying with you for a short while. That’s what you’ll tell anyone who asks.

“Yeah, you’ve learned that if you do, some dickhead’ll throw their iced coffee all over your back!” you laugh.

Ralph frowns, “You’re not a - a one of those, at all! You’re very nice to take me in like this. Most people seemed to think I belonged in a jungle.”

“Yeah, the old school military uniform kinda looks more… Safari explorer, these days,” you explain.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “Someone finally recognises the Army uniform for what it is!”

“Yeah, I thought I recognised it from when we went to the War Museum for school once. That was the kind of get-up they used to wear in the First World War.” You trip over your own feet a little as Ralph once again halts to anchor you to him, despite what he’s just said. He looks… Distraught. “Alright, mate?”

“Why did you say… First World War?" He asks with fear in his voice. "We won the Great War to restore the - the balance of power, how long did that last?!” He looks at you, dumbfounded.

You hiss air through your teeth. “Oh, boy. Yeah, there’s a lot that’s happened in the last century. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea telling you all of it, since once you get back, it’ll be your future, so…” You contemplate. “We’ll just keep all the questions you have to stuff you’ll need to get by in the here and now, alright? Anything you learn about history, just try and let it go over your head,” you pull him forwards gently and he falls back into step with you.

“One question I have about the here and now,” Ralph starts, and you look over at him. He makes eye contact with you to ask, “What exactly is your name?”

Laughing again, you tell him. “Sorry, I really should have led with that, shouldn’t I! It’s been a long day."

“I’ll say. About a hundred-odd years long!” A giggle bubbles out from Ralph’s lips and it makes you snicker, too.

“You’re a funny one, Penbury. For an old sod, at least,” you push your shoulder into his before leading him into the chip shop. “So, are you a fish guy, sausage, fishcake, pie?”

Ralph looks at all the options in the serving counter with an upturned nose. “What’s that one?” he asks, pressing his finger against the glass.

You look over and answer, “Battered sausage. Sausage, but in the batter they cook the fish in. Bloody lovely,” you smile wistfully. 

“I might just stick to the classic cod and chips, thank you,” Ralph mutters under his breath as he stares around the small room in fascination. You order on behalf of the pair of you and take the bag from the server with a grateful smile. Ralph notices and plasters one on as well, though his definitely comes off as more fake. He basically attaches himself to your arm again the second you’re out of the door, as though you’re bound together magnetically, and you guide him to the tower block that contains your pokey little flat.

After spending several minutes convincing Ralph that the lift isn’t going to suck him into another time period, and that he’s more than welcome to traipse up all the stairs that lead to the ninth floor, he relents and stands in the lift with you, though he stands so close that you’d think his goal was for you to wear him. Brushing against his chest feels nice, though. Shut up, you’re just touch-starved. This is not your ticket out of your dry spell. This is a fever dream.

Once you’re in your flat, you quickly dig out whatever men's clothes you have laying around - some sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and you throw them at him. "Just to get out of your dirty clothes while I plate up, eat before this gets cold, then you can go shower. I'm sure there's some boxers in my pyjama drawer you could use, too, I'll find those for you in a bit." You point to your bathroom and he quietly complies.

You could've just eaten the meals straight from their wrapper, the way you always do. But you figured Ralph has had enough culture shocks as it is, you'll give him the decency of eating from a plate. Besides, spending your night with a man dressed in 1920s army gear who's eating fish and chips out of some paper on his lap might just be enough of a sight to tell you to get yourself checked into the psych ward at the earliest convenience. At least you can try and create some kind of normalcy in this moment.

A quick Google search tells you television wasn't around in 1926, so you don't want to expose him to that tonight, too. Give it a day, maybe. You could play some old-time-y music on your Echo but you're not sure what he'd want to listen to. Instead, once you're both sat on the sofa together, you make conversation with him about his past as you eat. He tells you about how the Penburys were known socialites, how he and his sister had pretty much the same group of friends, how they had recently found friends in a rather special group of people, one of which he'd fallen head over heels for, just for her to reject him, and his heartbreak caused him to join the Army, which he hated.

"It's rather funny, you know," Ralph adds. "People here talk very similarly to Lauren and the others. I wonder if they exist in this time, too."

You start piecing things together. "Lauren… Plays jazz… She the drummer in this little quartet?" Ralph nods, his eyes wide. "Kinda short, has a brother called Nick?"

"Nicholas, yes! He's tall and he wears thick glasses! You know them?!" Ralph asks excitedly.

"Yeah, Nick was in my class all through high school! Always used to fancy him," you reminisce happily before stifling a laugh. "Wait, wait. So you mean to tell me that this Lauren you're besotted with is - is Little Lauren? Oh, you poor, sweet boy."

He looks offended. "Why would you think that that’s such a bad thing?!"

"Mate, I've known you five minutes and even I know Lauren would chew you up and spit you out," you look at him sympathetically. "And you're not gonna be able to change her on that. Unless you're into all that kinda stuff," your nose turns up a little as you joke, just to get a reaction from him.

Sure enough, there go the illusive colour-changing ears. He sputters, "W- I - I don’- I’m no- That is no appropriate discussion topic over dinner!” and you collapse into a fit of giggles, falling into him a little.

“Oh, lighten up, Ralph. Things are far less proper round here, that was nothing,” you explain, to his horror.

Once you’re both finished eating, you grab a clean pair of boxers from your pyjama drawer and toss them into the bathroom, gesturing to Ralph with your head that that’s where he ought to go. “Sorry you’re gonna have to use your finger as a toothbrush tonight, I’ve not got any extras of those, but -”

“Oh, all of this is already above and beyond! Even taking me in, I - I hope you understand how truly grateful I am, and with your patience acclimating me to… All this,” Ralph gestures around with his hands.

You nod with a soft smile. “Uh, give the shower a few minutes to run, though. Goes from freezing to scalding and then you’ve just sort of gotta… Keep fiddling with it. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

The various screeches you hear from behind the closed door suggest that he is not as successful in figuring out the shower as you’d hoped. While he showers, you do a little more digging. Thankful that your mum’s weird obsession with your family tree may finally come in handy, you ask for the login to her online ancestry account. Tapping through to the census search, you type the name ralph penbury and set the dates between around 1890 and 1930 to look for any documentations of birth - or death. Sure enough, an entry pops up: 

Ralph Penbury - Date of birth: 01/02/1901 - Parents: William and Delilah Penbury - Occupation: Private in the Armed Forces - Death: Announced 19/09/1926 - MIA, presumed dead

You frown at the result. Was Ralph always doomed to go missing in action, you wonder? Is he only presumed as such because he’s travelled through time? His existence hasn’t been completely erased by the trip, obviously, but how much of this was affected by it? It hurts your head to try and think about. But at least you know when his birthday is. It’s still a few months away by all accounts, you may not even get to celebrate it with him. You still make a note of it in your phone.

Ralph soon emerges from the bathroom, and the sight causes your breath to catch in the back of your throat. He already had a certain cuteness about him, but as he rubs his hair dry with the towel, his damp natural curls stick out in all directions. Some facial hair and a neck chain or two, and he’d be exactly the kind of guy you’d let break your heart in a smoking area. He studies your face carefully as you’re staring at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No!” you snap yourself out of your trance quickly. “No, not at all. Um, you can - you can take the bed. If you want. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Ralph gasps in horror, “I could never! I am simply a guest, I must insis-”

“And I must insist that you’ve literally travelled almost a hundred years to be here. Who knows when you’re gonna be here until, so… I don’t mind. I can sleep on the sofa for now, I promise,” you smile. “Just let me get in there real quick to get changed myself too, yeah?” Despite still standing in the bathroom doorway, and therefore not in the way of your bedroom, Ralph still steps aside and gestures towards it for you.

You change into a tank top and trousers combo, grab a blanket and some cushions out from your wardrobe, and head back into the living area. “Are you decent?” Ralph asks, his eyes squeezed.

You laugh, “Down, boy, I wasn’t exactly going to come out in my birthday suit, was I?! Yes, I am, you can look.”

He opens his eyes, takes one look at you, and yelps before covering his face with his hands. “You said you were decent!”

You look down at yourself, confused. Sure, the top is well-fitting, but you don’t think it’s indecent at all. You walk over to him and pull his wrists down. His eyes are once again shut tightly. “Ralph. It’s okay. I promise. Again, this is absolutely fine and modest in these times. Unless you want to stick out like a sore thumb, you’ll have to get used to it,” you shrug, letting go of him. He opens his eyes slowly and his breath shudders as he quickly jolts away.

“Okay, very well. I’ll try my hardest,” he nods, though he seems to be making the effort to keep his jaw up to maintain a high eyeline. “Are you sure you’ll be okay sleeping out here?”

You sigh, repeating once again, “Yes, Ralph, I’ll be fine. Go get some rest. You’ve had a big day.”

“Yes, very well. Erm,” he ducks his head down and to the side for a split second, as though to kiss your cheek, before stopping himself and once again raising his head high, his eyes wide and his ears pink. He clears his throat. “Thank you, again. Good night.”

“G’night, mate. Sleep well,” you pat his arm and start setting up the sofa for the night as he enters your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

You stick the TV on, not really caring what’s playing as it only really serves as background noise, and turn your lights off. The glows of the television screen and your phone screen illuminate the room as you search for any other evidence of time travel. Nothing that matched Ralph’s story comes up. You’re somewhere deep into a conspiracy theory about someone with a mobile phone being spotted at a Charlie Chaplin premiere when you finally drift off to sleep.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 4 - Prompt: Evoke @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 963 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily eyed the four blokes blocking her way suspiciously. This impasse started about ten minutes ago and three aisles over with Remus distracting her from reshelving the returns with a long-winded story about a pair of “lost ships.” He clearly thought that it was the perfect allegory for missed opportunities, but it sounded particularly absurd to hear from his lips.

Then, Sirius appeared from nowhere and steered the conversation toward social media stalkers, which was apparently a little too on the nose for Remus. When she’d finally slipped past them, James stopped her in the next aisle to ask if she was attending the Yule Festival tonight, and when she said “yes,” he proceeded to incorporate her into their collective plans. Lily managed to duck into the last aisle and reshelve the remaining four biographies in her hands, only to find all four of them blocking her exit afterwards.

“What‘s this then?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips. “I haven’t seen you here in weeks,” Lily pointed out to Remus before eyeing Sirius and James, “and the two of you are rarely indoors for more than twenty minutes.”

She gestured vaguely at the small stack of books in Regulus’s hand. “He’s the only one who seems to know what a bookshop’s purpose is.”

“I don’t know why they’re here, but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to buy books,” Regulus admitted with a shrug. He glanced between Sirius and Remus curiously. “Why are you here?”

“We,” Sirius said, gesturing between himself and Remus, “are here to visit with Lily. Since I’m only in town for a few more days, I thought it would be nice to spend some time together. Evoke a little friendly comradery.”

James nodded avidly, which wasn’t at all suspicious. “Right, and I’m here to buy Regulus books for the ride home. I just figured you might want to join all of us tonight.”

“All of you? And how many is that meant to be?” she checked.

“My parents, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, me, Peter, and Pandora,” James replied, ticking the names off of his fingers. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Lily frowned as she went through the list internally. “So, is that four couples? And me?”

“Oh, no! Pandora is my flatmate from London, and she’s coming to meet James,” Regulus assured her. “I haven’t even met Peter yet.”

“He’s a friend from uni,” Sirius replied quickly. A little too quickly.

“Remus? What’s going on here?”

Remus rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “A coincidence?”

“If you say so.” Lily flailed her hands at the blockade until Regulus ducked behind James and Remus stepped out of her way. “I have work to do. Can whatever you’re plotting wait until tonight?”

“So, you will join us?” James asked, rocking on his heels like a small child.

“I’ll be at the festival. If I run into the lot of you, so be it, but I’m not committing to wasting my whole night following you idiots around,” she said, rolling her eyes at Sirius’s scoff. Spinning on her heel, she glared at Remus pointedly. “If I find out you’re trying to set me up again, and I will find out, you will not like the consequences, Remus John Lupin.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed.

Sirius looked gobsmacked. “John? Remus John?”

Lily strode away with her head held high and her arms swinging at her sides. She was confident in two things after that confrontation: Remus wouldn’t dare attempt to replicate the Gideon and Fabian incident from uni and the combination of James and Sirius was asking for trouble. As if she didn’t already know those two were as brilliant as they were foolish. She just wished that they didn’t drag Remus into their nonsense.

And me. Leave me out of this. Whatever “this” is.

She busied herself straightening the display tables out front until the quartet of chaos left. The last thing she needed was to be caught up in one of their “incidents.” The Potters may be dear friends of Mr. Lupin, but their son and his friends set off her red flag alarm. Individually, they were fine, but together? Pure chaos.

“Lily? Phone call for you!” Alice called, waving from the back office.

She waved back as she reached for the handset at the register. “Thank you, Alice!”

“Hello, this is Lily, can I help you?”

A long silence followed. It wasn’t one of those creepers that breathe into the receiver, or even the empty mechanical silence of a telemarketer who hadn’t connected yet. This was…shy.

Lily toyed with the old, misshapen cord that connected the phone to the wall. Mr. Lupin refused to replace it with a cordless or headset because he was afraid they’d lose it. The man could be such a dinosaur for only being fifty-five.

“Hello?”

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting…I mean, you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” The voice was both timid and defensive, but slowly lifting in volume.

“Alright, what can I do for you?” she repeated, keeping her tone as professional as possible.

“I was looking for a book about…never mind, you probably don’t have it.”

The call ended abruptly and left Lily staring at the archaic device in confusion. It stung a little to be dismissed so quickly, which was stupid. She hung up the phone and shook her head clear.

Leave it. Just a weird one, that’s all.

Except it nagged at the back of her mind the rest of the day. The woman’s voice was strong, but she’d rambled as though her thoughts were scattered on the floor and puzzling them together was too much effort. The hang-up was likely from her own embarrassment for being caught daydreaming, and yet…she couldn’t help wondering who she was.

Next Part>>>

#lily x pandora #pandora lovegood x lily evans #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #regulus and pandora #Lily Evans #pandalily #pandolily #marauders #the marauders #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin

[dreamsandscenes]

My Thoughts on

ESME SHELBY

*spoilers ahead for S1 - S6 of Peaky Blinders*

Ah Esme, how I wish I’d seen more of you. When compared with the other Shelby wives (Linda, Grace, Lizzie), I don’t think Esme was really used as much within the story. She was left more in the background for some reason.

When we first see Esme, she’s being married off to John, apparently because she was a “bit wild”. I love the scene at the wedding when John and Esme first see each other. You can see the pleasant surprise on both of their faces, and this is the beginning of their mutual attraction, because as we see throughout their time together, they really fancied each other.

Was the marriage the right thing for Esme? No. I don’t really think so. Through the marriage, John gains a wife and a new mother for his four children who have been running wild since their birth mother died, an alliance with the Lee family (which Tommy wanted), and if I remember correctly, a car from Esme’s father.

What did Esme gain from the marriage? Well, I suppose we could say that she gains the security of a husband (which was an important thing in that time), albeit John is also quite wild, cheats on her, and is a criminal. She loses her freedom, which was clearly what her family wanted because they didn’t agree with her actions. In that time, going “a bit wild” is probably very tame compared to what people do nowadays. She also gained four young children, that she was now in charge of raising, along with the rest of the Shelby family as her new relatives. I’d never say that she didn’t love her stepchildren - she clearly did, and she took them with her when she left in S4 - but it’s a lot to suddenly become a stepmother to four young children.

The interactions we see between Esme and the Shelby clan (from what I remember) are never overly positive. Sure, she could get along with them decently enough when needed, but she didn’t seem close to anyone.

Her interactions with Polly range from Polly holding a knife to her neck in season 2, to them seemingly getting along well enough to work together - and strike together - in season 3. We don’t see what their relationship was like in the years between S3 and S4, but they clearly never got any closer, as Polly didn’t seem devastated when Esme left after John’s death.

Another Shelby that she shared a few scenes with was Tommy, and I think it would be generous to say that she disliked him. In S2, she seemed to respect him, and spoke at the family meeting about not wanting them to start expanding the business into London. Her reasons were understandable; she was afraid for her husband’s safety and she knew how dangerous London would be. And yet, everybody just brushed her off like she was an idiot.

All she wanted was for her family to go on the road or live in the country and be safe. She tried to convince Tommy that it was the best course of action, and in return, he grabs her face and tells her that if she talks about it again, he’ll cut her from the family. It’s overly harsh and personally, I wanted Esme to slap him when he did that, but of course she didn’t, so oh well. 🤷‍♀️

It seems like she properly hated him after the end of S3, when he almost got John killed. As we see, Esme is always loyal to John and anyone who crosses him, crosses her. She’s protective of the ones she loves, so it isn’t a shocker that she hates Tommy for mistreating him. She even charges at Tommy in the morgue after John’s death, grief riddled and furious.

I can’t remember much about Esme’s appearances in S6, probably because I did not like that season, so I’m not going to speak much on that time or her scenes with Tommy. She doesn’t really have a relationship with Arthur or Ada, so I can’t really say much about them either.

Her relationship with John did seem to become genuine, despite it starting off as an arranged marriage. I’ve seen some people say that John and Esme never loved each other because they didn’t choose each other and they were basically forced to marry each other, but I would say that from what I saw, I do think Esme loved him. (I’ll talk about John’s side of things if I make a post about him). She tried to keep him safe, despite his lifestyle, and when he died, I feel like no one can say that she wasn’t devastated by the loss. That scene right after John is shot dead outside their house where she runs out and lays her head on his shows how heartbroken she was.

Ironically, after wanting to escape to the country for a while because she believed it would be safer and better for her family, their country house is where John dies in S4. I don’t think that she would’ve ever found peace or safety as long as she was married to John and connected to the Shelby’s. She only managed to get the life she wanted for herself and her family after John’s death.

Esme was a strong woman for making that decision to leave the Shelby family. Perhaps it would’ve been easier for her to stay within their circle as John’s widow, but staying would’ve meant being around the family and Esme clearly didn’t want any of them around her children. So, she packed up all six of her kids - not that we ever get an official number or even the names of their kids, but I’m pretty sure that they had six altogether - and went away.

While the loss of her husband was awful, in the end, I’m happy that Esme finally got to make her own decisions about her life, and get her freedom back. When we last saw her in S6, she was on the road with some of her kin, living freely, and I would say that out of all the characters, she probably got one of the best endings.

#Esme x freedom #a little ramble about Esme #peaky blinders #esme shelby #John shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #my posts #my thoughts on #peakywomen

[ronearoundblindly]

for the comfort ask!! ☺️🫶🏻💕💕

🛎 - Someone at their beck and call + any character you want

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader from The Root of All Ransom

ooo, big shock: warnings for cursing and sexual references (nothing explicit)! WC 1.2k

‘The Wank’ is a fucking terrible friend who Ran is more likely to set fire to than embrace if he ever sees that rat bastard again.

Oh sure, it’s all fun and games, riding ATVs around this British lord-boy’s estate until that drunk idiot cuts too close in front of his invited guest, clips the tire, and launches Ransom over the front and into some ancient stone wall. He looks like a million bucks—Million Dollar Baby, that is—with all his bruises and lacerations. At least his face is unscathed for the most part. Ran couldn’t handle being fucking ugly on top of the embarrassment of being bedridden for a couple of weeks.

It was only supposed to be a quick few days' visit before he went back to the States, but instead, he’s stuck in the Wank’s mansion while the fucking prick leaves to go do other stupid things with their other stupid friends…

Why Ran keeps thinking of these people as friends, he’s not really sure, but once the doctor—who showed up with two nurses to a sprawling estate in the middle of goddamn nowhere—tells Ransom he has to remain like a vegetable in this musty four-poster, he calls you furious.

He calls to complain loudly, but Ran knew you would come.

Even though he is anxious and pissy for the whole thirty-six hours it takes for you to handle what business you can, book transport from Beijing to London, and then get a car to drive all the way to the boonies, he thinks he’s doing reasonably well when you arrive.

In reality, he’s already cursed out every member of the household staff willing to enter his room. Ransom is a terror when sick, and no one has the luxury of him drugged during this lay-up.

You’re graciously given a room to work out of but keep your Bluetooth in your ear all day every day unless you are in bed asleep. He fucking hates it. Ran is given a bell to signal he needs something and has no ability to distinguish needs from wants when bored.

“Would you stop talking like I’m not here?” he hiss-yells as you try to go back to work one day after bringing him a tray of breakfast.

You cover the end of the device and snap back, “These are prime business hours where I am supposed to be right now. I have to stay on the phone.”

When you turn to leave, Ran hits the bell.

You face him, challenging with narrowed eyes, so he hits it again. Twice.

But you don’t take the bait and shut the door behind you.

Ran’s bored—horrifically bored—and lonely. He beats down on the bell in cacophonic irritation for a solid minute before you rage back into the room.

Your hand slaps over his on the cool metal chime.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale,” you intone between clenched teeth, “you are abusing your bell privileges. If you do not stop, I will go back to Beijing tonight, and no one here will help you. Do you understand?”

His brow is just as angry as yours, but Ran’s lips pout. He huffs anyway, nodding his head, and after you let go of his hand, he admits quietly, “I want to go outside.”

Your face softens.

You sit by his hip, seemingly exhausted by the thought of coming all this way, acquiescing to his every whim, and returning to work. Outside the tall windows shines a lovely English morning after days and days of clouds.

Ransom watches you sigh hopefully.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you whisper, patting his knee to avoid reaching over his tray. “Do me a favor though?”

“What?” Depends on the favor so Ran promises nothing.

“Will you please use those damn wipes for something other than masturbating?”

His whole body stiffens uncomfortably.

“Even a whore’s bath will do and don’t act all innocent, Hugh! I know you,” you giggle, relishing the tease and the pink stain blossoming on his neck.

He glances over at the packet on the night stand. “A…a wh—“

“Pitties, titties, and bitties.” You stand and fail to smother your grin.

He hates this. You know he hates this. He knows you know he hates this, and yet Ran chuckles involuntarily. He knows you’ll try—knows that you are trying—to make him happy. It makes him so mad.

You’re the one with a job and a business and the money, and you’re forced to nurse him like a fucking invalid. A year ago, he would have loved this shit. Now he just feels like the fucking wanker.

He has several remaining bandages which cannot get wet, so he can’t shower. Ran can, however, get himself to the ensuite but it takes all of his energy and turns him into a ball of rage until he takes a nap.

Which is so fucking stupid, he thinks, but it’s the truth of it.

He struggles for the whole morning. He actually has to split the tasks of picking out clothes to change into, resting, using the bathroom, resting again, cleaning himself as best he can to put on boxers, resting atop the covers because he now notices the sheets smell, and then gets dressed.

He waits, puttering around social media on his phone, head shooting up to the door at any tiny noise from anywhere beyond his cage of a bed.

You come back at lunchtime, sans earpiece, and look genuinely impressed that he’s decent, which is so fucking sad that he wants to die, but he wants to go outside more.

He has to lean on you to get all the way to the lawn, fiercely focused on the blanket laid out under the closest tree, taking comically huge breaths of fresh air before collapsing when you give him the okay.

The picnic and tea are nice. The formality of the service, even though the staff only brings out the dishes and a basket of food, reminds him of Sunday brunches with Linda, so he doesn’t really fucking care about the food. He’s not really hungry.

Ran lays down flat on the grass-padded blanket and drifts to the soft rustle of leaves and birds chirping.

After who knows how long, he peels his eyes open to see the sun in a completely different spot and you still right next to him, relaxed and peering up, hands tucked behind your head.

“Hey,” he finally says to get your attention.

You shift your head, lips pulled into a squinty smile he can’t resist. “Hey, yourself. Have a good nap?”

Ran nods, getting his bearings from the murky waters of sleep. He notices you stayed. You didn’t go back to work. You didn’t trade off taking care of him. You got something you needed, too: peace and quiet, so he says the most obvious thing that comes to mind.

“You’re welcome.”

He’s rewarded with you bursting into laughter.

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drydale x you #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale imagine

[notyour-valentine]

Don't forget to smile :-) ~ modern!Tommy Shelby & Reader (platonic fluff/angst)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Tommy can't think of anything more ridiculous than the cheery messages the Barista keeps scribbling down on his to go coffee cups

Note: Written for @mrsalwayswrite auparty - I know I am super late, but life was busy and I was more representative of this Tommy than this reader. Despite the delay, I still hope you still enjoy it. At least, by now, I have the element of surprise on my side!

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: anger? car crash, violence, mention of blood, a tiny bit of politics? Depression, mention of suicide. Also Crypto Bros. Expect canon confirming tone and mention of violence.

Wordcount: 2282 words

Don’t forget to smile :-) 

The letters were mocking him. 

The four words added in sharpie to the to-go cup, in such a haste that the drawing had been smudged slightly. 

Don’t forget to smile :-) 

There was very little to smile about in the life of Thomas Shelby, especially these days and so it felt like a personal attack. 

He turned the cup so that he wouldn’t have to look at them. 

The most annoying thing about it was that stupid smiley. It made him want to punch a hole through the to-go cup with his pen just to be rid of it. 

It was as if she was trying to insult him, not just with that idiotic drawing and those empty words she always scribbled down on his cup, but with her whole demeanour. 

She was always smiling. 

She was always wishing everyone a “fantastic day!”

Tommy always knew some people were born with less than half a brain but very few had decided to be as blatantly obvious about it. 

Always smiling, always cheery, always adding messages like these that sounded like they had been taken straight from the pages of some overpriced self help book - or from one of these idiotic motivational instagram pages that would put cheesy phrases over the backdrop of some UFC fighter who would probably subcome to CTE before he turned fifty but he looked tough so what did it matter when you could turn it into an ‘inspirational image’ with ‘good energy’

That entire generation was nothing but a collection of fools living in an echo chamber and throwing phrases like “vibes” and “energy” about, although if he told them that, they’d probably “call him out” for his “toxic masculinity” and “bad vibes”. 

The fact that he knew all these things made him want to curse Ada even more, who had written her second dissertation about said ‘toxic masculinity’, or maybe third - he didn't remember, and to Finn, who only last week offered to ‘connect’ him with one inspirational speaker he really liked who was doing a podcast and really wanted Tommy to be a guest on it. 

He’d rather eat broken glass. 

But like most awful things in his life, that barista was unrelenting.

Apparently she was always the one doing the graveyard shifts, because it was always her handing out his coffee at the drive through in the earliest morning hours, always smiling, always with those stupid useless sayings.

The whole business would work better if their employees didn’t waste time with meaningless scribbles no one would ever bother to read. 

You’re doing great!

As if Tommy Shelby needed a little barista to tell him that.

He knew he was doing great. He knew how far he had come, straight out of the social estate housing in Birmingham to the penthouses of London and New York, with businesses on every continent and a company on the stock market (and several that would never be connected to his or his family’s name). 

Be proud of yourself!

Especially on a day like this with the Chinese business close to blowing up, it made him want to crumple up the cup in his hand, and preferably her idiotic smile with it. 

It was just so unnecessary - a waste of time and energy, even of ink itself. 

But no matter what, he could always count on those few words of writing to ruin his morning. 

Today again. 

You are loved!

He didn’t feel loved, if that even was a thing, not after Polly had been screaming at him for an hour straight, making his ears ring. 

Then again - 

Today’s a great day to have a great day!

What did that even fucking mean?

And what if some other car crashed into his on the way to work and squashed his skull to mush? That would be a sight for the firefighters that would be called to scrape his brains off of the asphalt. 

The next time he’d have to teach one of his rivals a lesson, he should send them something with that saying on first, before blowing up their car or setting fire to their restaurant.

It was funny in a way. 

You’ve totally got this!

He had stared at the writing for longer than he should have, having been up for nearly twenty hours now, running only on stubbornness, caffeine and desperation. 

You’ve totally got this!

Tommy stared at it and thought of the little barista with her silly apron covered in coloured buttons on the side, filled with meaningless slogans and symbols. 

As if putting some logo on a badge would fix things. 

She was only pretending to care about these causes, about him, about all the other customers she smiled at. 

But at least she’s pretending, a voice in his head reminded it. No one else is fucking doing it.

Least of all himself.

These days, Tommy was too tired to pretend, but it didn’t matter, did it?

Not really. After all, everyone was busy, everyone was desperate. 

Ada was up and about changing the world, writing books and fighting causes, trying to pass laws in at least six different countries at once, while Polly was somehow at the Met Gala, the Biennale and Cannes at the same time, hardly spending half as much time in England as she was spending in Monaco or St. Tropez or the Maldives. 

Arthur was already stretched to his limits, in and out of the clinical rehabs Polly and Ada put him in and the church retreats in Iowa that Linda recommended, and talking to his wife was tricky these days, after it came out that she had donated to some politician Ada hated. 

At first she and his sister had been throwing insults, then food, and in the end even fists had flown. 

There was no talking to any of them now. 

Just him, always him. 

“You’re earlier than usual!”, she remarked when he pulled up to the drive way.

Tommy only huffed. 

“Have a great day!”, she told him as she handed him his coffee and a sandwich he probably wouldn’t eat. 

Some days he even wondered if they would notice if he would disappear. 

They would, of course, at least when the money dried up. 

She was doing it for the same reason. He might not like her but he was a fair tipper.

Still, she’d notice before they would. 

Which was - something? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to think about it. 

London inner city traffic allowed him to glance at what she had written today

You are blessed!

Rolling his eyes, Tommy took a sip. 

So meaningless. So childish. So useless. 

Every single day, like an endless stream of blind idiocy. 

Don’t forget to smile =)

People look up to you!

You WILL achieve your goals!

Today is EXTRA good!

You matter!

I believe in you!

Don’t forget to do what you love 🤍

You do a great job being you!

Meaningless at the best of times, mockery at the worst. 

Countless times he had thought of changing the coffee place just to be rid of her needless pestering positivity, but it was the most convenient spot, besides, doing that would mean he had to concede a reaction to it and to him it was a sign of defeat to indulge fools. 

Still, it was nagging at him. 

This rainy Thursday she had written something particularly irritating on it. 

Not only had she greeted him with a smile “You’re back!” on the first day he had returned from a work trip to Paris.

“Yeah.”, he muttered as he waited for his coffee impatiently. 

As she handed him the cup, he glanced at it. 

People are grateful to know you 

This was reaching new depth. No one in the history of his life had ever been grateful for that. 

Not a single person. 

Even those people who were cursed to love him weren’t. They were grateful for his work and money, but not knowing him. 

Unless - 

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or simply because he couldn’t be bothered to go back to the bank to exchange his change. 

Fuck it, he thought. In a way, he was only doing himself a favor as it would be useless to send someone. 

So Tommy circled around the drive through and ordered some cinnamon roll from her colleague at the first window.

“You again, did you forget something?”, she asked with her beaming smile. 

No. 

“Ever been to Europe - “

Tommy had to squint to read her nametag. 

The name suited her, in a way, even if he hadn’t suspected it. 

“No, but I’d love to go to Rome!”, she said as she handed him the brown paper bag.

Tommy noticed the black writing from her pen, but didn’t read. 

“Cash this time.”, he said, handing her a pound bill, and then whatever had remained in his wallet from his trip to Paris. 

It wouldn’t change the world, but there was enough green and purple in there to finance a little trip for a barista. 

He shoved them into her hand unceremoniously and drove off before she had the chance to react. 

If she was smart, she’d hide it in her pocket, but if she chose to put it in the tip jar and share it with her colleagues, that was her business. 

People are grateful to know you. 

She was a fool, and Tommy couldn’t change that, but at least today he had made sure her words didn’t make her a liar. 

~

It kept raining all through the day, and into the late afternoon, through phone calls and meetings, through Michael throwing a fit and Polly being unreachable, through everything. 

“Tommy,”, Lizzie said, popping her head in through the tinted glass doors, “there’s a woman at the front desk to see you.”

“What woman?”, he asked, taking off his glasses.

“Some girl. She has something for you, something you lost and she refuses to give it to the security.”

Fucking really? 

Lizzie only shrugged. 

“She says its important. They’ve checked her. No weapons. She says she’s fine waiting downstairs until you come down.”

He had half a mind to test that theory, but then he shook his head. 

“Send her up then.”, he muttered. The only thing less appealing to him than having to deal with some stranger was having to deal with some stranger after a long day’s work. 

Five minutes later Lizzie came in again. 

“I can’t send her in here, Tommy - she’s soaking. It’ll ruin the floors.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength before getting up to Lizzie’s office.

It took him a moment to notice her without her hat and apron, but her smile gave her away. 

“Hi, so sorry for disturbing-”, she began. “I’ll be right off, I promise, but ah - you made a little mistake earlier.”

She really was soaking, from head to toe drenched and dripping, her clothes clinging to her skin. Still, she smiled. 

“What?”, he asked in utter disbelief. 

Reaching into her back pocket she took out the folded Euro bills he had passed her hours earlier. 

“You always give my five quid - so maybe you got the colours mixed up cause this one’s green too.”

She bit her lip in embarrassment as she handed out the bills to him. Each and every one, green, yellow and purple. 

“So yeah - this is yours.”

He only stared at her in disbelief. 

“Are you for real?”, he demanded to know.

“Yeah.”, she said immediately. “I mean, I’d like to think I’m good at my job, but I’m not - three thousand six hundred and seventy five Euros good at my job.”

When he didn’t take the money, she put it on Lizzie’s desk who was watching the interaction with wide eyes from the window. 

“Nothing we got is that good, not even the blueberry muffins.”

Tommy only stared at her. 

“Anyway, that’s all.”

She was already halfway out of Lizzie’s office, her worn Converse making squelching sounds on the floor, when Tommy called her back.

“That money was for you.”, he insisted. 

She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh but that’s a bit much.”

“So?”

She shook her head. 

“Well, it's too much.”

If he thought her a fool before, he considered her little more than an idiot now. 

When his disbelief kept rendering him speechless she spoke up again.

“Why don’t you put it into your charity? They’ve got a lot of flyers in the lobby and the kids probably really need it. I’ll be alright.”

Lizzie gave him a look which he tried painfully to ignore. 

“I really need to go now.”, she said with an apologetic smile, “sorry for interrupting and sorry about getting the floor all wet.”

“Can I ask you something?”, Tommy asked.

“Sure.”

“Why do you always have to smile?”

She tilted her head and frowned, but then - oh wonder - she smiled. 

“I read somewhere once about a man who wanted to kill himself - wanted to jump off of the Golden Gate bridge or something and was already on the way up but he didn’t do it ‘cause someone walked by him and wished him a good day and smiled at him. Made his day and saved his life.”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know if it’s true, but you never know I guess. Anyway, I really have to go or else you’ll have a proper puddle to remember me by.”

With that, she turned and opened the door.

“Have a great day!”, she chirped, the way she always did when he drove off, only this time it was her who was leaving. 

The End

~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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[ivory--raven]

day 28, made you smile. we've all seen the scene. we've all seen the looks.

Michael senses it with every aspect of her being. War against Hell has been declared.

Why? They’re not having an Armageddon. That was cancelled four years ago and she’s grown quite used to her existence as it is. It’s rather annoying, really, for it to be such a surprise. Work is satisfying, Jeanne is amazing and for once safe, Dagon has her utterly captivated. She isn’t ready for a war. She hasn’t had time to make plans, to prepare, she hasn’t had the troops training in four years.

Still, they are technically four years overdue for a war, and she does enjoy smiting demons. This will be her excuse.

She and Uriel meet Saraqael, the excitable scrivener Muriel, and someone else at the lift. The other being looks familiar, they are… Crowley. A demon. What’s he doing here?

Unauthorized war on Hell and a demon in Heaven. Had he caused it?

“Funny old world, isn’t it?” he says as they descend and his outfit changes to the black she associates with demons.

They emerge outside the embassy in London, Aziraphale’s bookshop. A ramp appears for Saraqael and they all follow Crowley inside. There is a stunned demon on the sofa. 

“What did you do to them all?” asks Crowley.

Aziraphale clears his throat. “I did the thing with the halo.”

Oh no. That’s as official as it gets.

“You what?” asks Crowley, as if he can’t believe it either.

“I did the thing with the halo,” repeats Aziraphale.

“You blew up your halo? Hell won’t like that!” laughs Crowley.

No. No, they won’t. They’ll understand it as the war declaration it is.

They appear, then. Some demon whose face she doesn’t know and Dagon. Dagon who seems extremely pleased, strutting towards the center of the room. There’s a glint of fire and fight in her eyes. Her shoulders. Her hips.

Beelzebub appears in a flash of fire. Michael hardly notices.

“We are at war!” says Dagon through her smile. “Finally!”

“Nobody’s at war,” says Crowley. “You idiots sent an idiot to lead a gang of idiots to attack a bookshop. Those idiots there want their Archangel back so they can fire him.”

Michael does not like to be called an idiot but she is far too distracted by Dagon turning and hissing at her. She shakes her head. Her ridiculous demon. She’s far too attractive in her uniform, which she appears to be wearing over… not much, her top is sheer. It’s not fair.

Dagon chokes. Good. Michael likes to have that effect on her.

Beelzebub wakes up the demon from the sofa. “Nice job, Shax. Beautifully done. Remind me to put in for your commendation.”

“Sarcasm, yes?” Shax looks to Crowley.

“I’m afraid so,” confirms Beelzebub. If demons are going to be teaching each other the art of sarcasm, they can do it in Hell!

“If it is to be war,” Michael starts, looking at Dagon, before Crowley interrupts.

“No, no, no, no, no war,” says Crowley. 

Dagon purses her lips, shimmies a bit with her hand on her hip. Ridiculous, enchanting demon. Michael would smite her all right, but not in the usual way. Take her away right now.

Crowley is saying something about Gabriel, Aziraphale brings out a cardboard box. Dagon leans forward, holding her arms in front of the two demons on either side of her. “Careful. Could be a trap.” She’s protective. She’s sweet. She’s actually afraid of the cardboard box. Michael understands. Aziraphale and Crowley are known traitors with suspicious powers. Michael knows how worried she was when it turned out Crowley was undestroyable.

“It’s a cardboard box, it’s not going to bite you,” says Saraqael.

Dagon moves back anyway when Aziraphale dumps some old things out of the box. Michael doesn’t blame her.

There’s writing on the box, a fly - Michael can guess where this is going. It’s him, the assistant bookseller, it’s Gabriel, and Beelzebub is so tender with him. “Good boy,” they say, “no wonder nobody could find you. This is where you were keeping all your memories. All your you. Look at you, you’re perfect.” They offer it to Gabriel - to Gabriel’s body, at least. “Here. Take it. Gently.” They’re smiling at him.

It goes in his eye, then, and he straightens - he remembers. Gabriel. 

He smiles his professional smile. He laughs. “Michael, Uriel?” He forgets Saraqael’s name, which Michael can tell annoys them. Dagon makes an unpleasant face at him. Michael loves her for it. “Oh, eesh. You guys,” he says. “You,” he says when he finally turns to Beelzebub, and it’s like he’s immediately soothed. He remembers them, then. Good. They’d been distraught. If he’d remembered everything but them, there would’ve been a problem.

And he has been happier since he started seeing them. Annoying he may be, but he is something to her, and Michael wants that happiness for him.

“Silly, silly angel,” says Beelzebub, far too affectionately to be hiding anything. “Why?”

“I was coming to you, but I… forgot,” says Gabriel. Behind Beelzebub, Dagon meets Michael’s eyes.

The demon next to Dagon, Shax, calls Beelzebub a traitor. “Collaborating with Heaven,” she accuses them of.

It’s so risky, what they’re doing. They have to pull this off.

“I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides,” says Beelzebub. Dagon gags.

Someone says something and it’s a mortal. There are mortals here? “Someone turn them into salt,” says Michael. The security risk! Saraqael raises a hand but Crowley interrupts and ushers the two mortals out. He’d better be going to dispose of them outside. 

“Fancy liking an angel,” Dagon says, shuddering. She sounds convincing. It isn’t real. It isn’t real. It’s for the benefit of everyone who can’t know, for privacy and safety. Shax has something loud and annoying to say to Michael, the demon Michael doesn’t know has a complaint for Michael. They want Beelzebub back, is the gist of it.

“They probably did something to Gabriel,” says Uriel. “Corrupted him.” Saraqael agrees.

Dagon points at Michael. “You Archangels,” she says. “You Archangels.”

Michael smirks. She’s right, and she can say it, as long as she doesn’t clarify. Michael cups her hand by her ear. “I can’t hear you.”

Aziraphale rings an annoying loud bell - Michael instinctively raises her arms to cover her head, but it’s only him, it’s only Aziraphale. “I’ve had quite enough of this!” he snaps. Michael has had quite enough of being here. If there is no war, the only crisis is Gabriel and Beelzebub, which wouldn’t be a crisis at all if it wasn’t so public. Michael would like to go home.

“You will speak one at a time,” demands Aziraphale.

Shax asks for Gabriel and Beelzebub to be handed over to Satan. “He won’t want them,” says Dagon. “Maybe as hors d'oeuvres.”

“And I demand you hand them over to us, to face celestial punishment,” says Michael. Someone had make the counteroffer, after all. 

“Obviously we would be reserving the option to send them both to Hell as our punishment,” adds Saraqael. “But we’d be the ones doing it.”

Aziraphale offers Gabriel and Beelzebub the choice, and of course they choose to leave together than stay and be punished. They don’t want to be destroyed, and that is very much still on the table. 

Crowley suggests Alpha Centauri.

“If you leave, you can never come back,” Uriel tells Gabriel.

“That would be the point,” he says. He seems fine. Perhaps with him officially gone, Michael can have his job. Heaven will need a new Supreme Archangel. And with Beelzebub gone, well, there is a natural choice for a successor.

Beelzebub suggests Shax might have their job. Dagon glares at the back of Shax’s head, shifting like she might be about to get out a weapon and stab Shax in the back.

Michael interrupts before that can happen. If Dagon is going to be rid of Shax, it won’t be now, in front of Aziraphale and Uriel and Saraqael and the demon she still doesn’t know. “Angels and demons, they can’t just-”

Gabriel and Beelzebub start singing that song Gabriel had been humming before, and disappear. Off to Alpha Centauri - or, if Michael knows Gabriel, a tailor.

“I believe the Dark Council might have something to say about all this nonsense,” says Dagon, who must know full well they do since she’s on it. The demon Michael doesn’t know whispers something to Shax, and all three vanish back to Hell.

“I am authorized to remove the name of anyone who helped Gabriel from the Book of Life,” says Michael. She’s never actually seen the Book, but Aziraphale doesn’t know that and she’ll figure something out. She’ll get it from The Metatron. “You will never have existed, Aziraphale. In the absence of Gabriel, I am the Supreme Archangel-”

“Duty officer,” says Uriel.

Michael does not care. “And I-”

“Excuse me, sorry, I must interrupt you there,” says someone who has just walked in. Michael stares, open mouthed. Walked in. Interrupted her. Michael. Supreme Archangel.

“I don’t believe I asked for any interruptions.”

“I couldn’t help it,” says the person. “You’re talking utter balderdash. I mean, complete piffle! You don’t have the authority to do anything like that!”

Michael has never been so insulted in her entire existence.

“And who are you?” she says, a moment away from smiting them no matter the response.

“For Heaven’s sake! And I mean that most literally. You don’t know me?” he asks. “What about you, demon, do you know me?”

“Get him out of here!” insists Michael. Or she will kill him.

It’s The Metatron. It’s The fucking Metatron. He dismisses them back to Heaven like naughty children. 

Uriel and Michael exchange glances and Uriel bows. “Your Reverence, your - your Grace, your…”

“Spit it out,” he says.

“Have we done anything wrong?” asks Uriel. It’s the question both of them have, probably Saraqael too. 

“That remains to be seen,” he says, which is very alarming. All three Archangels return to Heaven together.

“I’m going to my office,” says Michael as soon as they arrive. Uriel nods and turns on their heel, off to their own. Saraqael doesn’t even have a sarcastic comment - they must be shaken.

Of course Michael doesn’t go to her office. She goes to the house, with Jeanne, who is watching a film on the new television they’ve installed, where Dagon is waiting for her.

Dagon.

“Michael,” she breathes, and embraces her.

#femslash omens #femslashfeb2024 #angelfish #ineffable administrators