#along with a couple of maisie tracks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tirednotflirting · 4 years

Text

i am missing you more than i should (guess i'm not out of the woods)

i attempted to post this to ao3 and then the page crashed so tumblr gets some rights today i guess.

this is another addition to the maisie thing i’m working on. title and inspo from look at me now by maisie peters

read here on ao3 if you wanna

(it’s kinda emo i apologize)

It’s a cold November night when Luke sees Calum again.

Despite the outdoor temperature being displayed on his phone screen, Luke is warm from the alcohol in his belly and the bodies milling around the bar. He’s ordered a drink to feel natural in his current setting but it’s just soda and lime. He’s stepped into this place to wait for Ashton to come pick him up. He had read one top many horror stories about ride share apps and young drunken people and now always gripes at Luke for not calling him for a pick up on a night out. So after watching all of his friends (though that’s kind of a stretch for the people he frequents clubs with) head off into the night, Luke wandered to the place he currently sits at, feeling drawn to the little dive bar he hasn’t been to in ages and sent Ashton his location.

It’s while he’s waiting for his drink that he remembers why he was drawn to this bar. This is Calum’s place. Luke can’t even think up how many pairs of hands he would need to count the number of times they had stumbled into this place, laughing with their arms around each other while tripping their way up to the bar. It’s close to the complex Calum had been living in while they were still in school. Seeing him here now at the other end of the bar, the glitter in his eyes shining even though they’re not taking a single glance in his direction, makes Luke wonder if Calum’s stuck around this area of town.

Because of course Luke wouldn’t know. Luke hasn’t said a single word to the man in ages, hasn’t seen him in probably a year and a half at this point. (He’s tempted to pull out his dying phone to find the last text messages they exchanged to track the time but he knows Ashton probably deleted their messages during one of the many times he ended up on the other man’s couch with tears raining down his cheeks.)

We want different things. That’s what Calum had told him. Luke wanted to see the world. They were about to graduate, he wanted to see everything and he wanted to see it all with Calum. The idea of settling any part of his still mess of a young life scared the hell out of him. Luke wanted to run but he wanted to do it with Calum’s hand holding his own. Calum was so practical, his mind somehow years ahead of Luke’s. They were graduating, it was time to slow down, he was always trying to explain to the boy he’d laughed with and loved for the last four years. The speeds they were trying to live their lives at during those last few months pretty much started pulling them in opposite directions, Luke supposes. Though that didn’t change how much it hurt the day he returned to his apartment to find a box of his clothes and belongings sitting in front of the door with a little note tucked into the side.

Luke had stuck to his plan. It was only in the last couple of months that he’d returned to the city and found a job more permanent, reconnected with Ashton who had stuck it out in the area for law school. He had seen so many places, so many people, so many pairs of brown eyes that had him nearly chasing after strangers on the other side of the world. He hadn’t dared to try to love someone else but eventually his brain stopped trying to play tricks on him to make him see what he had lost because he couldn’t just slow down. Eventually he didn’t wake every morning expecting to see someone curled up beneath the sheets beside him or to walk into the kitchen to find the ever studious business major drinking from the blue mug with the chip in the handle as he checked the news on his phone

Though from what he could see down the bar, Calum hadn’t been on his own since Luke saw him last. Or at least he wasn’t right now.

Luke watches a laugh escape Calum’s lips while he reaches for his glass on the bartop (always a whiskey man, Luke was never not teasing him for his old man drink preferences). He takes a sip and then raises his brows, his lips moving to ask a question Luke can still hear rolling off his tongue if he thinks back hard enough. He watches the glass get passed along to the blonde sitting in front of him and facing away from Luke. The glittering in Calum’s eye changes some as his bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth while a smirk forms on one side of his face. Luke can see the other man’s shoulders rise slightly in response to taking the sip and he wonders if the scrunched up face he used to pull when sipping Calum’s liquor is anything like this new man’s. He figures it must be as Calum’s face softens in a still vaguely familiar way and Luke watches him lean forward to press a kiss to the blonde’s cheek while a hand lifts to cover the other.

Luke squeezes his eyes shut and forces his face away from the couple. He takes a sip of his soda before shrugging his denim jacket from his arms, the bar suddenly feeling far too warm. He’s reaching for his phone in the pocket of his jacket, ready to send Ashton an SOS to get him to hurry along, when a soft voice behind him nearly throws him to the opposite side of the bar. “Luke?”

He jumps as he spins in the stool he’s seating in, Luke’s eyes suddenly meeting the ones he’s been searching for in every corner of the world. He used to spend hours lying awake thinking about this exact moment, about what it would be like to speak again for the first time with his lost great love. (If Ashton were able to hear him thinking that he would scold Luke for being so dramatic. You’re literally 24. Calm down, Luke.) “Hi, Calum,” he returns, praying his voice isn’t as shaky as it feels. The name feels foreign on his tongue and he can’t tell if he’s thankful for that or not.

“How’re you doing, man?” Calum asks, a small smile playing at his lips. “It’s wild to see you in here, not gonna lie. Thought you were still off somewhere with your wanderlust.”

Luke tries to be as subtle as he can as he reaches for his wrist to pinch himself since he’s not entirely sure he believes this moment to be real. He coughs and shakes himself out of his daze. He’s got to be an adult about all of this, he’s a grown up now. “Yeah, I moved back a couple months ago. Was starting to really stress out Mom with the whole travel thing. I’ve moved in with Ashton, if you remember him? He helped me get this admin job at the law firm he’s interning at.”

“Of course I remember Ash!” Calum beams. Luke wonders if he’s also playing at being cool but then he remembers that Calum actually had the guts to walk over to him so maybe this is just a part of being settled down. “Happy for you, Luke. Sounds like a good set up.”

Luke ignores the nostalgia threatening to cloud up his mind at the sound of his name falling from Calum’s lips a second time. “You still working for Donny then?”

“I am! He gave me like, a month after grad to chill before I got back to my old desk with a stack two feet high of files,” Calum laughs and Luke finds himself doing the same. Calum’s internship boss had always been fond of them together. Donny had once helped Luke get flowers delivered for their third anniversary. He was a good guy. “Actually, just got promoted to Managing Financial Advisor earlier this week. Was here, uh, celebrating tonight wit-”

“Hey Cal, thought I lost you there.”

The blonde Luke had only seen the back of before steps into view, his hand dropping to Calum’s back. He’s just barely shorter than Calum, though that’s likely due to the boots the latter is wearing. His eyes are wide and a pale green, like leaves in early spring. Luke wants to hate him but he can’t. This guy looks pretty nice, unfortunately.

“Sorry, love,” Calum replies softly, his hand lifting subconsciously to push hair from the other man’s eyes. It’s an action Luke remembers fondly (and somewhat painfully, if he’s being honest with himself). “Found a familiar face. Michael, this is Luke. Luke, this is Michael.”

Michael’s eyes widen just the slightest bit. Luke isn’t surprised. He can basically guarantee that he’s sitting right at the top of Calum’s ex-boyfriends to discuss list. They spent nearly all of undergrad together. If Michael’s been around for even a little bit it makes sense that he’s heard about Luke. “Nice to meet you, mate.”

“Yeah, you too.” Luke accepts the hand being offered to shake. The whole situation feels way too formal but also dazed. Though Luke is still drunk and there’s way too many memories dancing through his mind of nights out with Calum and nights in with Calum and Calum Calum Calum.

“Well,” Calum starts, his hand moving to rest lower against Michael’s back. “Our Uber is here but I’m glad I saw you Luke. Take care of yourself.”

Luke nods and wishes them both the same in a small voice while they wander away from him. He can’t hear it but based on the worried look he can see on Michael’s face as they head for the door and the way he wraps his arm more firmly around Calum’s waist, Luke knows he wasn’t the only one faking a brave face.

(He allows himself a moment to give into memory then as he thinks back on one of the last times he was headed out of this bar with Calum. It was early February, just a week and change past Calum’s birthday. The air is cold enough to see their breaths as they giggle and bumble about their new courses. Calum keeps lifting Luke’s hands between his own to blow warm air onto them to keep them warm as they head in the direction of his apartment.

When they finally make it up to the third floor and through Calum’s door, they both kick off their boots. Luke’s gone for his easier to remove ones so he has a moment to lean against the door while laughing as Calum pulls at the laces of his Docs. Once removed, Calum steps over to Luke, his arms looping around his waist while Luke’s drop to hang over his shoulders. Their laughter dies out as they sway back and forth slightly in the entryway.

“God, I love you,” Luke sighs as he drops his forehead to Calum’s. “Never want to stop loving you.”

“Please don’t.” Calum laughs gently before turning his head so their lips press together.

Whether it's seconds or hours that they stand there kissing while holding each other in the dull entryway light, Luke doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. All that matters is that Calum never lets go.)

Luke’s phone buzzes on the bartop, a text from Ashton appearing to alert him that he’s waiting in the lot out front. Luke tips back the last of his soda and shouts a thank you to the bartender. He pulls on his jacket and heads in the direction of the door.

He turns for a moment before reaching to push through back out into the cold. He glances around the open room, quick moments of memories playing out in front of him from the years before. He sighs and pulls himself out of it again.

Maybe it’s time to find a new spot to land.

#cake #cake fic #also some malum #maisie series #i think i literally apologized when speaking w meg yesterday bc i was like 'i don't wanna be mean to cake but also'#maisie posting on insta right as i type these tags omfg

15 notes · View notes

jawllines · 5 years

Note

WEREWOLF BLURB PLEASE!!!! ☺️✌🏼

:D YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

Y/N’s flustered.

She hadn’t started the day out flustered – she had actually started it rather composed. After coming back from a small trip home, she had been more than ecstatic to see Harry, Niall, and the rest of the pack. To reorient herself with Maisie at the bakery and reunited Grandpa with the pups in their playroom (who, from several videos sent by Harry, were missing Gramps terribly and were rolling around in his bed and whining every time Harry brought it into them). To climb into Harry’s too large bed and only use a quarter of it because they’re snuggled so tightly together they account for merely one body.

Being away from Harry for the first time since they’d bonded felt more or less like she was leaving a limb behind and promising to come back. Which was to be expected, or at least that is what Harry told her. They were bonded, linked in spirit, through the rush of blood through their veins. It was nowhere near in the theatrical high schooler way of panic when a couple spends the weekend without seeing one another – it was a legitimate concern amongst their kind when a mating pair had to separate large distances.

The yearning was like an ache that consumed them both all over, like icy needles of want that pricked them. Sure, they could call, but it had almost made it worse – she could see his face and hear his voice but she couldn’t reach out and fiddle with the hair at his nape, and he couldn’t worm his arm around her waist and draw her nearer to him in the middle of the night when he heard her shiver. Y/N couldn’t hide her face into the base of his throat and let her eyes flutter shut when they were cuddled on her couch, Grandpa warming their feet. Harry couldn’t hold her hand as they walked along the stream on the grounds, with the crystalline water that glittered in the beams of sunlight, and she couldn’t feel his laugh rumble through his chest when she says something that makes him pull her close and chuckle.

In more direct terms, it fucking sucked.

And maybe Y/N had forgotten how flirty guys and girls could be, but she was almost a hundred percent positive that she had never been the usual target of people’s conquering affections. If anything, she used to feel as if she practically repelled it, especially at home where she spent most nights alone and having her “dates” to dances be her friends. It was just something she was used to…the majority of the people she went to school with knew her from when she was deep in an attempt of a goth phase that never really stuck and saw her cry over Polar Express about thirty times, so she wouldn’t much want to fraternize with high school her either.

Yet, when she returns, it feels like the eyes on her are endless. Not in a confidence-boosting way at all – it was a way that made her skin crawl, the way it appeared like they were drinking her in, their eyes rolling up and down her body. When she and her old high school buddies went to a club one night, there had been a group of people and 6 out of the 8 found an excuse to hug her at some point. Some of them she could hear breathe in deep and at first, she had attributed it to everyone really liking her perfume, but when the next question that followed was, “Do you have a boyfriend?” She began to become a bit suspicious.

She brought up to Niall – asked him if it were possible that there be other werewolves, who instead of staying sacred grounds, galavant through clubs and go around sniffing people. After a lengthy lecture about how she should have let him come with her like he asked, he kindly let her know that all packs were different, and while his and Harry’s had a pretty hefty mistrust for humans that were not her other packs may not care. May roam about and fuck around till their heart’s content, some even change people for fun. He told her that most likely, the people spotting her extra attention that they otherwise wouldn’t give is because she’s coated not only in the scent of a wolf but the potent scent of an alpha. One so strong and inviting that they can’t not find their way to her, caught off guard by the human body carrying it along like she’d spritzed it over her pulse points and walked out of the house.

So they were intrigued beyond belief, wanting to sniff and to understand, hoping to question her but she was always creeped out enough that she slipped away before they had the chance. She forgets how intimate the wolf community is, surpassing human limits of personal space the nth degree, especially when she hasn’t been around them for a second. At first, where there had been snide glances and uncomfortable shifts in her presence, she is now greeted with arms encompassing her tightly, deep breathing and warm laughter as they share stories with her. They enjoy how she squeaks when they squeeze too tightly and even more so how Harry grins, watching them.

“You are family,” he once told her, “They love you as I love you – though I do love you most.”

And she was okay with that – with them – but strangers who like hugging tightly, whom she first mistakes for people her friends are introducing her to (or re-introducing her to), who just go in for a whiff? It’s unsettling, and she was far more cautious in the rest of the time she spent away. Along with far more yearning from the wolves she had become used to, this switch up left her rattled.

So it’s safe to say, save for missing her friends and family back home, she was excited to go back. Ecstatic, even, and Harry was absolutely buzzing as well.

“I will be there for you at the station!” He had exclaimed to her when she explained she was now boarding the train, “With a big ol’ sign, and flowers, like in them movies you showed me.”

Low and behold, as promised, when she finally made it out of the terminal and into the main area of the station, Harry was with Niall, both holding up a large sign that had that read WE MISSED YOU and the messy painted prints of the pups that had tracked all over the white paper. A bouquet of flowers the size of her head, ones freshly plucked from Miss. Tealy’s garden on the grounds (she let Y/N eat some of the berries she’d been growing once, and when Y/N had told her they were the best she’d ever tasted, Miss. Tealy frequently began requesting her if she and Harry weren’t caught up with something else), and a box of her favorite cookies from the bakery that she knew Maisie sent in her place (she was leaving for a week-trip to Germany that day, so she had to be at the airport).

It was hard not to let her eyes well up, almost tripping over herself as she rushes over to them, walking briskly she had taken on the persona of someone in New York who has no time to get to the places they need to go. Her arms found Harry’s neck in seconds and he squeezed her so tightly that it was just about bone-crushing – if she hadn’t known any better, she would think that this was his intention.

Even if it were though, she couldn’t say that she minded it. Being in his arms again felt drinking a cold glass of water at noon, on a sweltering summer day. She was overcome with such immense love that it felt like it might burst from her orifices, ooze from her until she’s melted into a puddle on the train station floor. The only reason she pulls back is to smother his face in kisses, from his forehead to his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. And he giggled, trying to kiss her back but he barely could do to the onslaught of her own peckish kisses.

“I missed you too,” she murmurs, nestling her nose in the bed of his throat and breathing in deep, though as she relaxes when Harry does the same he tenses up. Rigid as a board, and it’s so akin to how he was when they had met the very first time she recognizes it instantly.

In her attempt to drawback and question him, his grip around her tightens, and she feels a low rumble of a growl threatening his chest, “You do not smell of me,” he notes – not in accusation, but annoyance is clearly laced through his words as he holds onto her tighter, “Niall told me of the people troubling you with unwanted attention but I had not known they were so close. You reek of them.”

Her face drops into a pout, wiggling out of his arms with her brows furrowed, “You know the last thing you want to hear from your boyfriend after being away for two weeks is that you reek,” she chides him, turning to grab her suitcase, but she notices then that Niall had already grabbed the handle, “I showered about ten dozen times, so I don’t know why I still smell like them. I’m sorry.”

His features soften at her words, head shaking urgently, “Do not apologize,” he tells her seriously, “It is to no fault of your own – you do not…reek in that sense of the word. I smell the others more than I can smell myself on you, so I must re-scent you.” He reaches out for her again, taking her by the wrist and pulling her back towards him, to which she goes easily, allowing him to burrow his face in her hair and wrap his arms around her in a much less organ popping way, “Which is not a problem by me.”

Before Y/N can question what “re-scenting” actually indicates, Niall clears his throat dramatically, and Y/N and Harry both turn to face him, “Listen, I know the lot of you are lovebirds and s’precious, but I have not gotten a single ounce of attention for the five minutes you’ve been here, and I would just like to remind everyone I’m the reason you two met in the first place.”

Snorting, Y/N rolls her eyes and slips from Harry in favor of giving Niall a hug, “Hi Ni, you know I missed you too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he wraps the hand not occupied with the sign around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze, “Missed you too. Missed your cookies and Grandpa most though.”

Grandpa, who was now being retrieved from his carrier by Harry (who did not believe that any animal should be kept in a crate, and only allowed it when Y/N explained that he had to be), was wiggling happily in his arms and licking and slurping at his face. From a jealous puppy to werewolf correspondence, to being the only two beings in a room who understand each other wholeheartedly, was a wholesome development on their part. Harry adored Grandpa (if not for being bonded to him, Y/N would have assumed he missed him far more than he missed her), and when the security guard walks up to him to let him know that animals are not allowed outside of their carrier in the station if they are not a service animal – she could see the flicker in Harry’s eyes that he was not going to allow it.

“He will stay out of his crate,” he said sternly.

“Sir –”

“Would you like to be put in a crate?” His voice is deepens, a dull growl that makes Niall stiffen and her heart race; it’s the voice of an alpha that encourages Niall to stand up taller, Y/N’s veins sizzle and her abdomen twinkles and warms, and the security guard shrinks away, “He is living and breathing, has his shots, and in no way violent. He will not be put in a crate.”

The security guard nods, “Very well, Sir.”

The power he emanates and oozes is maddening, radiating throughout the entire station, from wall to wall, and it is so all-encompassing that Y/N feels swallowed whole by it. In the absolute best way possible. Over the phone and on the screen, she forgets, because he doesn’t use that voice with her but when he is around his pack, or if she’s ever gotten him in public and something is occurring that is not up to part with his standards, he uses it. She hates the way it makes her insides twist and thighs squeeze together; the response is instinctive and apart from her – she’s usually got such a handle on her arousal, but when it comes to Harry and when it comes to that voice, she doesn’t have a handle on anything.

Harry turns to them, a goofy smile painting his lips as Grandpa pants happily beside his face, a complete contrast to the man that had just been standing there before, “There is a great feast, awaiting you, my Love, we must go at once.”

. . .

It was a second homecoming in the span of two weeks when she steps onto the grounds and inside of the now-familiar foyer. Werewolves, she finds, do not take well when their assumed human leave for any amount of time and come back smelling of others. So she was passed around like dinner plate as they all welcomed her with hugs, Grandpa following suit, sniffing and licking all of them, and in their own way, they were all scenting them both. At least taking the edge off of the other wolves, is what Niall said, when he embraces her one last time as to not look like he didn’t care that she apparently “reeked”.

Dinner was set up already and her assigned spot besides Harry had already been set with food – all of which her favorite that she had tried since she’d been here. From vegetable shepherd’s pie with duchess potatoes to marmalade sponge pudding, about three separate slices of chocolate pie coated in rainbow sprinkles. The scent of the dining hall, in general, made her mouth water, and as Harry holds her chair out for her (as he always does), she tells him as such and he reaches out, stroking at her face tenderly.

“The chefs have done their best work for you, I’ve made sure of it.”

They eat till their stuffed full; Y/N feels as though her stomach had expanded three sizes and one more bite might make her pop. She tells them stories of her hometown, what she did in her absence, and how every single one of her friends just about gushed at the fact that she was with Harry. “They talked you up so much, I was almost jealous,” she told him as she cut into her slice of pie with the side of her fork, “Got irritated when they would be saying, ‘Oh he’s so hot’ or ‘God, look at the mouth on him!’ ‘cos like, no shit I know that – and they weren’t even bringing up how absolutely sweet you were. Didn’t want them objectifying you, s’why you didn’t video chat with any of ‘em.”

Harry had made a point to keep their fingers interlocked the rest of their time at dinner, squeezing every so often, and she revels in how much she loves the feel of his hands on her skin. It almost feels urgent that she gets him to his bedroom then, and from the way they lock eyes towards the end of dinner when they’ve come around to collect the plates, she knows Harry is aware. More than aware, actually, of how she’s feeling, because not only has his body grown to match it, but he can smell it. He once told her, that the smell of her arousal commands his attention almost as instantly as her heart starts to pump a little faster, the blood rushing to her groin.

(He told her this, because she had been trying to hide how needy she was for him when he was particularly busy. Though as they sat quietly in his office, him bent over papers and Y/N silently reading, he had slammed his palm against the desk in a clap that echoed through the room, dragging her attention to him, “How am I meant to focus, when you smell so enticing? Why have you not asked me to tend to you?”)

However, both of them were filled to the brim with food and feeling sluggish and slow, and so sleepy. Y/N couldn’t fathom doing any vigorous activity other than trying to find a suitable snuggling position in bed, and when she tells Harry as much he looks grateful. Though, just as soon as Y/N lies beside him after switching into her pajamas (made of the finest threads of silk, from Harry as a gift for Christmas, despite him feeling it was a baseless holiday and he feels he should be able to gift her things because he wants to and not out of obligation for the season), he drags her to him so closely that barely a slip of paper could fit in between. He dips his nose into her neck and rubs the tip against the skin of her throat, his arm encircling her waist so that she could barely even wiggle.

Soon, where his nose was, his lips meet in a soft press against her throat. She thinks at first he’s just being sweet – he liked neck kisses – but then he captures the skin, sucking it between his lips and pinching at it with his teeth. A gasp slides from her throat, her eyes opening up wider as she’s hit with a short gust of liveliness from where she had been slowing down for bed. The hand of his arm tucked around her, is tucked between her and that mattress as if to hold her even closer, as he works the skin over, only parting to lick the broad of his tongue around the tender skin.

When she cranes her neck to look at him, he pushes their mouths together with little warning or thought, a smear of lips that makes her body tingle. He slides his tongue in between her lips and curls it around her own, no hesitation, no playful flirtiness to it like he sometimes did, but full, needy strokes like this was all he had been thinking about. All that he could think about.

The hand that had been at her side, slides up to her cheek and cradles her face, aiding her in turning so that he could more adequately invade her mouth. He shifts so that he is halfway on top of her, his thighs astride her own, his cock throbbing to life in the small, tight pair of boxers he wore. They were the ones he chose when he couldn’t be arsed to go fetch his laundry. He’d long since outgrown them, but Y/N is often grateful that he kept them around, given they left very little to the imagination and the cotton – while worn – was soft (which, in filthier connotations, was very nice to grind against).

“Need you to smell like me,” he parts from her mouth but doesn’t stray far, speaking the words against her tongue as she flickers it against his plushy, swollen bottom lip, “Inside and out.”

______________________________________________________________________

Harry has always been an impassioned and fervent lover.

Ever since the first time, when she’d been thrown into a false heat, he was diligent and dominant, made her thighs quake, kissed her breathless, held her close, rocked into her hard, and made her melt in the best way possible. He was enthusiastic and always came in what felt like waves, filling her so full that she leaked of him. Sex with Harry had always felt like such a transcending experience, she came out feeling enlivened and refreshed – exhausted as all get out but like she could conquer the world if she really wanted to.

And right then was no different.

He slides his tongue against her in these slow, stroking movements, his hand cradling her jaw in his palm so gently. Harry had wiggled over so that the heavy, heated bulge that sat heavy between his thighs was hovering just over where she coveted for him. Their noses were pressed together, where his other hand is at her hip – the fabric of her shirt had skated up her side, so his fingers dug into the bare skin. It felt like touching white-hot fire against her, her hips rolling upward idly, and just barely grazing against him.

Harry’s so hard, she knows that he must be aching for it, and when he tucks his covered cock to the crotch of her panties, he rolls his hips in these deep, digging motions. Her veins fizzle and spark, her own fingers finding themselves burrowed in his curls, bucking back up against him with her toes curling. A wet, throaty gasp pops from her throat against his mouth as she curls her legs around his hips to keep him close, as he undulated his hips against her.

It’s so good and hot and sweaty; she’s full, sleepy, her eyes heavy but she feels so nice. She’s being satiated in every way she could think possible, as the fabric of her panties grew damper with each roll. He parts from her only to breathe but they’re so wrapped up in one another they’re just sucking in each other’s air. It’s humid, her skin beginning to perspire, and Harry was always so warm in general that it contributed to the growing heat, especially the one that pulsates throughout her entire being.

“Sweet little thing,” he murmurs, his lips stroking against her own with each word he spoke, and she pushes forward to capture them for a second but he parts, “I can smell how wet you are. Can practically taste it,” he pauses the ministration of his hips and laughs when she whines, their noses pushing together for a moment as he draws backward, “You want me to taste you?”

She nodded quickly and Harry hums, slipping down to her chest, displacing the soft material of the pajama top she wore and sliding her breast in the divet of his thumb and forefinger. He takes her nipple into his mouth, pursing his lips and suckling, and her back arches some to press closer to him. It felt so good. So incredibly, horribly good, and he was nowhere precise or meticulous; it was truly feral, wet and sloppy. When he switches, he drags the fabric further, only this time he tears the fabric down the middle and Y/N gasps loudly but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he drags her other nipple into his mouth and wettens it with his tongue, sucking and nipping at the bud as it pebbled beneath his attention.

Icy hot tendrils of arousal spike down her abdomen; she feels herself pulsate, feeling herself drip into her panties. His movements downward are brisk, but harsh suckled bites at the tender skin of her belly, his fingers digging into her panties and ripping them at the elastic. It snaps back against her, a sting that strips up to her hip bone but she has no time to mourn the black cotton because Harry’s burying his face into her cunt like he was starved. His tongue slips between her licks, deep grinds of the wet muscle from her hole to the swollen bud.

She’s throbbing, all the blood rushing to her clit as Harry demonstrates his desire wholeheartedly. Slurping and lapping, moving is head side to side and moaning; it’s so wet, like he’s drooling over her, sloppy and messy, these groans that rattle through her body and vibrate her bones. One hand slaps down beside her side, fingers dug into the sheets beside her, and the other tangling up in his hair, which was now even more unruly than when she had left. His eyes had long since fluttered shut like he was soaking in and enjoying every moment of tasting her. He always licked into her like it was his first and final time – like he had to commit it to memory in every way he could.

“Harry,” she moans breathlessly, and Harry hums against her as his response – her whole body quivers, “Fuck, you feel so – you feel so good.”

He hums again, removing his hand from where he was pressing on her thigh to keep her spread out for him, and her parts for just a moment so he can place two fingers at her entrance. Her mouth drops open soundlessly but her breath gets caught in her throat, as he sinks them in slow, looking down at it with a small smile before his eyes glitter up to hers, “You haven’t touched yourself since we were together last, hmm?”

Her cheeks warm at his inference, nodding her head – it was true; no matter how hard done by she felt, there was no use in her own hands anymore. When she tried, she was just left with an unyielding want for him, a distinct tugging at her chest that beckoned for his fingers, his cock, his tongue. To have his nose smushed up against her mound as he slurped and sucked and licked her dry. Harry had completely ruined her for anything bringing her an orgasm that wasn’t him.

And the bastard knew it! He knew it so well, from that stupidly cocky and beautiful smile that tilts at his lips, “You’re going to cum already.” He remarks thoughtfully, sighing, “So sensitive today, Pet.”

“Stop teasing me,” she whined, shuffling down, letting her hips thrust forward against his hand. He’s got two fingers inside of her, stroking against the soft, spongy bump that makes her thighs squeeze and tremble, her walls rhythmically throb around him as his palms pressed close to her clit, “How m’I supposed to hold off when you’re doing all that?”

Tutting his tongue lowers his palm and lets his other hand slide into his ministrations, using the pad of his thumb to gently guide her clit in smooth, round little circles that make the muscles in her abdomen visibly tense, “I’m not teasing.” He tells her, eyes trained on the wet little gash between her legs, “If I were teasing then I would just –” he slides his hands from her, leaving her empty, and cold, pushing his fingers into his mouth.

“No!” She gasps, wriggling to try and get closer to his fingers and his mouth again, “No, no, don’t –”

“Look how needy you are,” he hums, framing her pussy with his hands, his thumbs holding her open as her hole clenches and squeezes, “Begging me to claim you – make you smell like me all over.” He murmurs, leaning down and letting the very tip of his tongue dip inside of her, groaning against her, and sinking in further. She thinks if it were up to him, he would lick her completely dry.

Harry giggles against her as he swirls his tongue in a circle, before peeling back again, only this time he scales up her body, pushes a kiss to her mouth so she can taste herself on his tongue as he draws his boxers down. His cock slaps up against his abdomen soundly, stiff as a rock, with the aching, purpled head leaking precum in a rivulet down the side. The tip was shiny and her mouth waters instantaneously like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs stuck in a Cathedral.

She would beckon that he let himself into her mouth, maybe rock his hips into with his hands cradling her jaw like she’d asked him to before, but he’s got a way about him when he isn’t in the mood for a blowie. The way his eyes are blown, his movements are gentle, yet quick, and the urgency in which he lines himself up with her are a few telltale signs, to say the least. He circles the head around her soaked lips, his pillowy mouth dropping open just a little, his brows furrowing in pleasure as he revels in the feeling.

He sinks into her slowly, groaning out loud that he muffled by latching his teeth around the juncture of her neck and shoulder (his favorite spot). Y/N struggles to keep from pushing him deeper, but she refrains from it, letting him ease in how he likes. Harry wants to feel every ridge, every curve, every wall; like he’s memorizing how she feels inside. She wonders if he closes his eyes, he can feel her – she can feel him when she focuses on it enough. Can feel the wide head stroking against her insides, nudging and bumping into all the spots that make her toes curl.

The first rock of his hips is just a small roll, where his hips are still tucked against her thighs, and it shifts her body upward against the sheets. This is when Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closely (“Are you trying to keep me in, Baby? Don’t have to worry about me pulling out – might just have to walk around with you snug on my cock.” He had once said, and she almost hates how much she would love it), her arms around his neck, so that their fronts are mashed together. Another pretty noise leaves his lips, this time as he unbeds his teeth from her skin, moving so that he was slipping their mouths together again. He slips his tongue between her lips, drinking in the heady moan that leaves him when he starts up a steady pace.

They’re so close that she can feel the muscles in his stomach tense and relax, moving beneath the skin as the filthy sounds of him fucking into her begin to feel the room. The thwack their bodies colliding that reverberates in her ear like a beat, his fingertips dug deep in her thigh while his other hand kept him held up as he pressed it against the headboard, working with the balance he’s deviating onto his knees.

Y/N would ride him if she could but she knew well enough that he needed this and she needed this. Needed the raw, primal energy of him fucking into deep, hard, alternating between slow and quick – it made the both of them feel better. She had missed him so desperately, to feel this close after being so far apart was like stumbling upon a hot spring in Antarctica. Their souls have tied and knotted, their hearts beating as one, her eyes water from the undulating pleasure of being loved and getting brought to a mind-shattering orgasm after weeks of nothing.

She reburies her hand in his hair, tangling her fingers up in the strands and she clenches around him when he lets out a low growl as she tugs, “Make you smell like me, Puppy,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to her, “Bloody fucking bastards had their hands all over you – don’t they know you’re mine?” He cradles her face, running a thumb over her cheek and Y/N peers up into his soft, green irises with a blurry gaze. Harry doesn’t worry when she cries during sex – mostly because he can feel deep within his being when she’s actually upset, but partly because he just knows…he knows she gets so overwhelmed by the sensations of everything, she can’t help but tear up. “Don’t they know I’m your Alpha?”

“They know,” she feels the first telltale sign of her orgasm bristling at the edges, “You feel so good – you smell so good, they know, they know and if they don’t I’ll tell them myself. Show them all my bite marks.”

Harry groans, nodding and leaning forward to smear his mouth over hers, reaching down to her clit and rubbing tight little circles into it. Y/N’s thighs squeeze around him tightly, her orgasm ripples through her in hot waves of static, that sizzles through her body in electric waves. She moans against his mouth and he swallows the sound down, his own orgasm striking him, his knot slipping inside of her. He’s cumming in hot spurts that coat her walls, filling her up and despite his locking with her some still manage to slip out (she can feel it). Harry cumming in her is one of her favorite feelings, as he throbs and pulses, his hips twitch and buck, his grip on her – wherever it may be – tightens up and holds her close. He empties everything he’s got until she feels full and she revels in it.

As they both come down, Harry’s eyes flutter open with a dreamy smile that he gives her, and her heart leaps against her ribcage, “I missed you.” He tells her for at least the twentieth time that night, “With my whole being.”

She returns his smile, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I missed you more.”

His brows tilted, “There is no possible way,” he repositions them so that she was lying on her side and he was spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped back around her, one palm warm palm on her stomach. He dips his face into her throat, breathing in deep, and a low rumbled purr begins to rattle through him. To know that he’s comfortable soothes her even more than she had been, as her eyes began to flutter. The exhaustion that they had felt prior catches back up with them, she can tell as they melt into each other.

“Come with me next time,” she tells him, “Come meet my family.”

He pauses, raising his head and him shifting makes Y/N crane her neck to peek at him, “You want me to? Even though I am – I am –”

“Perfect?” Y/N finishes for him, not allowing him to get insecure about his nature, “Yes, I want you to, even though you’ll definitely show me up.”

And Harry breaks into a cheek splitting grin, moving forward to kiss her again, his hold on her even tighter than before.

#bLURB #OR #BLURBS #Anonymous #harry smut

854 notes · View notes

nat-roman0ff · 4 years

Text

favourite ex

favourite ex you were my no sleep, cried for weeks, favourite ex

an angsty little thing loosely based off favourite ex by maisie peters

words: 1,482

There’s an eerie quiet in your apartment tonight. You can still hear the cars pass by, the wind rustle through the leaves on the trees, your neighbor’s tv blaring their fourth marathoned episode of Jeopardy. You keep track of the half hour based on the theme song. It seems every time you blink it plays again.

It’s a lonely kind of silence, of being stuck between all the sounds in the world. Trying to find a place or purpose, caught in a wind tunnel of life all around. Things and people are existing and then there’s you, bottled up and shut in. The lonely silence sits like a low bearing fog in your apartment, a tomb of sorts.

The lonely is you.

You curl into yourself a little more. Missing him, missing yourself, missing what was. You couldn’t remember what you were watching, nothing but a stream of lights and colors shine across the screen and you can’t seem to make any sense of any of it. Your brain is too full, too fucking sad to follow along.

It had been a month to the day since the two of you broke up. It had been mutual, and something that was a long time coming and needed to happen for the sanity of you both. But it wasn’t without love.

There had been no epic fight. No knuckle dragging, teeth bearing screaming match; the end all be all of fights. No, it was one of you finally being brave enough to say “this isn’t working anymore”.

It had been you to start the conversation, Shawn was always too much of a passive person to begin such a thing. And he loved you too much to lose you like that, but agreed between busy schedules, fleeting time and constant attention that the cons were starting to outweigh the pros.

“Maybe in a few years, when things have calmed down,” he’d said with tears in his eyes.

You hated the color of his eyes when he cried. It made them look darker, and not in the way you loved - but a muddy, wet darkness that brought nothing good along with it.

“Maybe,” was all you could manage to him.

The studio audience on the sitcom awwwws, the couple kiss, and you feel that knife twist again in your stomach.

It hadn’t always been sunshine and butterflies with Shawn. You had fights that left you shaking so hard from the tears you thought you’d never catch your breath again and spent countless nights crying yourself to sleep. But for every one fight, a dozen beautiful happy moments existed in your memory.

Because that’s all they were now; memories.

Happy little moments, replaying over and over behind your lids every time you closed your eyes. Being awake made it easier to forget about him. You could drown yourself in something else but the second your eyes shut, the only thing that played was him.

You had both agreed it was best not to speak for a little while. You both needed time to heal, and that couldn’t be done while being in contact. It was hard at first, not getting a good morning text, or calling him when you got home from work to catch up on your days. The sudden pull away felt like when the air sucks out from your chest as a roller coaster drops, just a hollow, empty, nothing.

Over and over again.

The hardest part was not being able to blame the breakup on anything in particular. There was no cheating, no third party, no fight, no trust broken or lies or anything else that breaks up a relationship. Time was wilting around the both of you and as the last few sand particles of time ran up in your hourglass you knew you were loving on borrowed time.

It takes you a while to realize the knocking isn’t in your head but at your front door. You move, not remembering the last time you did so, from the couch and stand on wobbly legs. Head dizzy from the lack of food and water (did you eat today or Tuesday?), you tiptoe softly against the cold hard floor.

“Who is it?” You ask, your voice so hoarse you barely recognize it yourself.

There’s a sniff and then a pause, “it’s me.”

Shawn.

You answer by opening the door and he looks at you, eyes sunken in and red, with deep purple bags below them that match yours. His hair is a mess of long curls, longer than you remember them and his face is thinner too. The whole of him looks empty, like the sunlight had been burned out of him. There was no light in his eyes, only that deep dark mud that you hated so much.

“I miss you.”

He’s the first one to say it, say anything. And you stumble back but he takes it as an invitation to come into the apartment and shuts the door behind him. You can’t think of how to react - you’ve felt the tide of emotions rolling in and out on a day to day basis since he left and now the waves are crashing and you just can’t fucking speak.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Shawn says, “just, I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m not.” You croak.

A whisper of a smile creeps up onto his lips but as soon as it arrives it’s gone and replaced with a deep frown, “yeah, me either.”

The laugh track sounds from the tv like a sick joke and the more you look at Shawn the more skeletal he looks as the light reflects the hollows of his cheeks, and it shatters your heart a hundred times over again to see emotions affect him physically. Once a strong, glowing and warm man is now a cold and fragile shell.

“Why did we break up?” He asks, his voice a little higher than normal and you know it’s because he’s holding back from crying.

“Because Shawn -”

“Because what!” He’s louder now, angry almost, “because what? Because there’s someone else? Because you were bored of me? Because I wasn’t good enough?”

You clench your fingers into fists, letting the sharp of your nails pierce your palms, “we both agreed it was for the best.”

There’s tears in his eyes now, “it was for the best. At least that’s what I thought. Now I haven’t been with you for a month and I - I don’t even know how to function. I can’t eat or sleep or perform or write or do anything. I’m too fucking sad to get out of bed half the time and I can’t figure out why this was for the better.”

You look up at his tear streaked face, stumbling on words when he speaks again.

“Just tell me anything. Tell me you fucking hate me. Tell me you hate my career and the traveling and the girls -” he trails off, his face looking increasingly angry as the tears continue to pour over, “let me hate you! Anything! Please!” He yells, pacing the short length of the living room to gain his composure before looking back to you from across the room, “please?”

It’s barely a whisper when he says it and you shake your head no.

“I can’t do that, Shawn. I won’t do that.”

He lets out a choking sob, and wipes up his pinkened blotchy face with his sleeves, “then how else am I supposed to get over you?”

You shrug, “I don’t have that answer for you.”

Your own share of tears are running down now and all you want him to do is hold you, so you open your arms like you always did when you wanted him to and the first glimmer of hope you’ve seen since he walked in the door washes over his face. You nod in permission and he crosses the room quickly in large paces to wrap you up in his arms.

Lifting you up off the floor, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He drops you slowly, gently, onto the bed before laying down beside you.

The two of you look at each other, face to face. So many nights spent like this under happier circumstances with fuller people and peaceful hearts. He wipes away as many tears as he can manage with his fingertips and you lay together without words or actions.

It’s the first time you’ve been able to close your eyes and not think of anything. A warmth of familiarity washes over you and you take the first deep breath you’ve been able to manage for a while.

“Stay?” You ask.

You open your eyes to see Shawn crying again, silent tears streaming down his face, “always,” he sniffs, “always for you.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fic

243 notes · View notes

ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

A Slippery Surprise

Summary: Louis and the others planned something extra special for A.J.'s birthday.

Word Count: 2310

Read on AO3:

“Can I open them now?” A.J. asked, his brows furrowing as he continued walking along the corridor in total darkness, his only anchor Louis’ voice.

“In just a second, kiddo. We just gotta round the corner and then we’ll be there,”

A.J. nodded. He trusted Louis completely, but the ten-year-old was at an utter loss as to where they were. He thought he knew the school like the back of his hand, but after following Louis through hall after hall with his eyes shut, he felt as though they were covering ground he’d never touched before, parts of the school that had been locked away and left for years.

Suddenly Louis’ footsteps stopped and AJ followed suit. “Alright, A.J., you ready for the best birthday surprise in the history of mankind?”

A.J. nodded eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Now!”

As A.J.’s eyes opened, quickly adjusting to the dim light, he could see they were standing in front of an open doorway and that Clementine, Willy and Prisha stood along the sides of it. Smiling at them all, A.J. began to look around for his present, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Where was it? The room in front of him seemed to be an empty classroom. All the desks and furniture were moved out long ago, only the chalkboard and random faded pieces of paper remaining on the walls. That wasn’t much of a surprise. But there was something different about the floor. It was shining, cold… “Ice?”

“Perhaps the surprise will make a bit more sense if I give you these as well,” Grabbing a parcel from Clementine, Louis placed it in the hands of the young boy.

A.J. ripped the wrapping off quickly, tossing it aside. In his hands were a pair of white shoes with black soles. Along the bottom of them were metal blades that had a smooth edge. A.J.’s nose wrinkled in thought as he tried to figure out what exactly they were for. A chuckle from Clementine drew his eyes to her.

“Try them on, kiddo. Then step into the room. But be careful,”

Following her instructions, A.J. sat down upon the floor and began to remove his shoes to put on the others. From the looks on everyone’s faces, they seemed excited for what was to come. With the skates on, A.J. struggled to his feet, needing some help from Willy and Louis as he wobbled. Looking to Clementine to make sure he was still doing this right, A.J. was heartened when she smiled and nodded. Now for the last step. Stepping onto the ice. Holding onto Willy’s hand and leaning against the taller teen for support, A.J. placed one foot upon the ice and then the other. Willy let go… and A.J.’s feet began to glide on their own.

A.J. looked down at his feet in wonder, watching them slide across the ice effortlessly. Turning back to look at the others, he smiled. “They move on their own!”

“It’s called ice skating, kiddo!” Louis replied with a grin. “Try moving your legs – you’ll go even faster!”

Taking Louis’ advice, A.J. moved his legs. Immediately his speed increased, the blades on the special shoes curving round on the ice. His audience applauded, all of them smiling happily as they watched A.J. circle the classroom. “This is amazing!” A.J. exclaimed, speeding up even more.

“A.J., wait-” Clementine’s protest was cut short as the toe of one of A.J’s blades caught the ice and the boy was flung forward, wiping out on the floor.

“Shit! You okay, buddy?” Louis asked, shimmying his way across the room to help A.J. up. Clementine hurried over as well, taking A.J.’s other arm.

“There’s a bit of a learning curve when it comes to ice skating,” Prisha observed as she glided across the ice toward them. A.J. noticed that she was also wearing bladed shoes, though unlike his hers seemed to be attached to the outside of her regular shoes.

Willy zoomed over beside her, stopping with a little twirl. “Prisha and I have been practicing on the home-made skates for a week now! We wanted to make sure we got the rink right before we shared it with you,”

“You made this?” A.J. asked, looking upon the shining floor and then them with admiration. “You guys can really make anything!”

Prisha smiled happily at the praise. “Louis was the one who came up with the idea and Clementine tracked down the skates. Then Willy and I worked to execute it. It took a tarp and some plastic scaffolding to keep the water in place and make sure it lay flat, but then it was merely a matter of flooding the room using the hoses from the pool and waiting for it to freeze,”

“Now that you’ve seen your surprise, everybody can join in!” Willy exclaimed, spreading his arms out excitedly. “We told the others to come as well so that way everyone gets a turn with the skates!”

“But as the birthday boy, those are yours to keep, bud,” Louis placed a hand on A.J.’s shoulder and smiled down at him fondly.

A.J. glanced down at his blades then looked back up at Louis. “Can you join me in skating? Please, please, please?”

“Definitely! I’ll just need to borrow some skates…”

“You can have mine,” Prisha offered, skating back toward the doorway. “We only have the two pairs of skates that we’ve crafted so far, and the other used pairs are meant for children’s feet, so you’ll be far too large,”

As Prisha and Louis were busy with the skates, the two newest members of Ericson showed up. “Wowee!” Renata exclaimed, sticking her head through the door and letting out an impressed whistle. “That’s quite the rink you’ve made!”

“Allison!” Willy exclaimed, zooming over excitedly. “Want to try my skates out? I can help you get used to them and then you’ll fly across the ice!”

Allison looked upon the skates with skepticism, then back up at Willy’s excited, earnest face. Shrugging, she gave a small nod. Willy let out a yelp of joy and immediately got to work taking off his skates to give to Allison.

A.J. looked towards Clementine. “Clem, are you gonna be able to skate too?”

Before Clementine could answer, Louis cut in, skating forward. “There is in fact a pair of skates that fit the lovely Clementine’s dainty feet,” He bowed dramatically, offering up a worn out pair of white skates.

His wife smiled at the gesture, fondly rolling her eyes before taking them. After taking a minute to get the skates on she was ready and all three were skating round the room arm in arm.

“This is the best!” A.J. exclaimed, happily tucked in between Louis and Clementine.

Willy and Allison had also made it out onto the ice, Willy without skates but happily jogging beside Allison as she skated forward. She seemed fairly steady but every time she flinched or paused Willy had his arms out, ready to break her fall. Those were the only moments that Willy’s non-stop dialogue was temporarily paused before he launched right back into his stories, Allison listening and nodding along to them. Meanwhile Prisha and Renata were chatting comfortably while watching from the doorstep.

“Will you look at that!” a familiar voice exclaimed. Ruby and Aasim had joined the group, each with a sleeping baby strapped to their chests. Ruby’s eyes twinkled as she took in the rink. “Look at the way it sparkles! Why, I haven’t been ice skating since I was just a teeny little thing!”

“Would you like to try now?” Prisha lifted up a pair of skates. “I believe these would fit you,”

Ruby looked down at Maisy, sleeping peacefully upon her chest.

“I can take her too,” Prisha suggested.

“And I can take Zach if you want to skate too, Aasim,” Renata offered.

The couple shared a look before nodding. The swap was made and soon the pair was out on the ice, Ruby on skates while Aasim strolled beside his wife.

“So this is what you’ve been so secretive about these past few weeks,” Violet’s voice caused Prisha to turn round with a smile, bouncing Maisy softly as she spoke.

“I figured it would be best to surprise as many people as possible. And I didn’t want to disappoint in case we weren’t able to get the plan to work,”

“Looks like it worked out perfectly,” Violet observed. The rink was quite full now, the groups intermingling and twirling round each other as they skated. Louis tried to do a fancy twirl only to fall on his butt much to A.J. and Clementine’s amusement while Willy was spinning Allison round in circles as fast as she could go.

“Woo! Go, Allie!” Renata cheered, her smile bright as she watched the pair having fun. She looked around the room, then back out to the hallway. “Hey, where’s Omar? He’s the only one we’re missing, right?”

“He said he had a surprise of his own and that he’d be here in a minute,” Violet replied.

Ruby and Aasim came back over to the doorway. Ruby shot Violet a smile. “Vi, would you like a turn? I bet your feet would fit. I just got an idea for how to turn this rink into a total winter wonderland! Just gotta grab a few things,” Not waiting for an answer, she handed over the skates to Violet and bustled off down the hall, dragging Aasim behind her.

Violet stared dumbly at the skates in her hands.

“If you’d like, I could go out on the ice with you,” Prisha offered. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall if that’s what has you concerned,”

“…OK,” Violet sat down to put on her skates before looking up in realization. “Wait, who’s gonna take Maisy though?”

“That would be me,” Omar’s calming voice came from behind them, causing all three girls to turn round. Omar was standing beside his cauldron which was safely nestled atop the wheelbarrow he’d been given for his own birthday. From inside the cauldron, the smell of apples arose. “Thought I’d try my hand at apple cider this year. Take as much as you want – there’s plenty,”

The smell quickly drew the attention of the others, leading to a crowd round the doorway to the rink. Once everyone had their bowls of cider they dispersed again and Omar was handed Maisy while Prisha and Violet took to the ice hand in hand. Ruby and Aasim returned with paper, scissors and chalk and after a quick cider break they also took to the ice, though instead of skating their focus was on decorations: paper snowflakes and winter illustrations all across the blackboard.

Coming off the ice, A.J., Louis and Clementine removed their skates then settled in for second helpings of apple cider. Maisy had begun to stir and was taken by Clementine who gently rocked her daughter in her arms until she drifted off to sleep again. Taking seats along the far wall, the three sipped their apple cider and chatted happily while watching the continued fun on the rink.

Renata had switched off with Willy, going on the ice with Allison while Willy happily bounced Zachariah in his arms and chatted with Omar. Violet and Prisha skated together now that Louis had returned Prisha’s skates, the two of them gliding round the ice hand in hand before pausing from time to time to share a quick kiss. The room was covered in paper snowflakes now and the whiteboard had illustrations of snowmen, angels and Christmas trees from one end to the other.

“Well, little man, how did we do?” Louis asked, grinning at A.J. and ruffling his hair.

A.J. wrinkled his nose at the “little” part Louis still insisted on attaching to the nickname, but grinned nonetheless. “It was awesome! Best birthday ever!”

Clementine chuckled. “Wow, best ever? We’ll have a hard time topping it next year!”

“Good thing we have a year to plan then,” Louis quipped, winking at his wife.

A.J. looked between the pair and smiled over at Maisy asleep in Clementine’s arms. He watched all the fun happening inside the rink as well. Everyone was here, celebrating together and having fun. And the fun didn’t have to end today either; Willy had told him the rink would probably last till spring. This was the best possible present he could ever think of. He was itching to get back on the ice again. “I’m gonna go again – be back later!” With that he was off, scurrying back onto the frozen wonderland.

Louis and Clementine shared a knowing smile before snuggling close together, Louis’ arm wrapping protectively round his wife and child. “We done good, Clem,” Louis said with mock solemnity before his characteristic smile pulled at his lips once more.

“That we did,” Clementine rested her head upon her husband’s shoulder, happily watching the winter scene before them. “He’s growing up so fast,”

“Ah, he’s still a kid,” Louis observed, watching as A.J. let Allison and Renata swing him round and round. “And this? This is a memory he’ll never forget,”

“You’re right,” Clementine smiled as she saw the fun A.J. and the others were having. “You want to join in again soon?”

“Wild horses couldn’t hold me back,”

With that the couple got to their feet, heading over to wait their turn to get back on the ice. And so the festivities continued, the first of many days that were sure to be spent upon the Ericson ice rink.

5 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

New British comedy TV series from 2020: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Dave, Amazon, Netflix

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

2020 in British TV comedy brought us Maisie Williams as a kickass survivalist in a pickle, and a new parenting comedy from the hugely talented Simon Blackwell and Chris Addison starring Martin Freeman.

To add to that, there was also a fresh batch of comedians playing exaggerated versions of themselves in self-penned sitcoms, including Katherine Ryan, Mae Martin, Sara Pascoe, Kayleigh Llewellyn, Lucy Beaumont and Jon Richardson.

Here’s the skinny on all those new shows and more. Here’s what arrived in 2019, and here are the new British TV dramas that arrived in 2020.

Breeders

After their excellent 2014 relationship comedy Trying Again, Chris Addison and Simon Blackwell (Veep, The Thick Of It) teamed up on a new series, this time about the trials of parenthood. Martin Freeman and Daisy Haggard played parents in this ten-part half-hour comedy, a co-production between Sky in the UK and FX in the US. Watch the first trailer here.

Bumps

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

A Comedy Playhouse commission for BBC One, Bumps comes from Psychobitches and Tracey Ullman’s Show writer-actor Lucy Montgomery (pictured) and The Life Of Rock With Brian Pern‘s Rhys Thomas. The half-hour pilot is a modern family comedy that centres on Amanda Redman’s character Anita, a divorcee in her sixties with two grown-up kids, who decides to have a third baby with the help of an egg and sperm donor. Playing Anita’s daughter Joanne is Lisa McGrillis (behind the brilliantly dim and tactless but very sweet Kelly on Mum), who discovers she’s pregnant at the same time as her mother.

Code 404

After 2019’s pilot, Sky ordered six episodes of this sci-fi comedy starring Daniel Mays (Line Of Duty, Vera Drake) and Stephen Graham (Boardwalk Empire, The Virtues), written by Mongrels and Not Going Out’s Daniel Peak. It’s a buddy cop drama set in the near future, which sees crime-fighting duo DI John Major (Mays) and DI Roy Carver (Graham) first separated, then reunited thanks to the wonders of modern science. Series two is on its way.

Feel Good

Stand-up Mae Martin co-wrote her autobiographically inspired six-episode series with Joe Hampson, which formerly went by the working title Mae and George and is now called Feel Good. It aired on E4 in the UK and Netflix around the world, and follows Martin’s life as a comedian and recovering addict, and the complications of her new relationship with girlfriend George. Friends’ Lisa Kudrow guest stars. A second series is on the way.

Hitmen

Comedy double act Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins get in on the Killing Eve game as contract killers in this new Sky series. Unlike Villanelle though, these two are decidedly unsmooth operators. Their hits are, according to the press release, “inevitably derailed by incompetence, bickering, and inane antics.” Sherlock’s Amanda Abbington co-stars, along with Francis Barber and Johnny Vegas. Series two is on the way.

In My Skin

Kayleigh Llewellyn’s autobiographically inspired 2018 pilot is now a four-part comedy series for the BBC. It’s the raw but ultimately uplifting story of teenager Bethan’s attempts to conceal from her schoolfriends a chaotic homelife with a mother sectioned in a mental health facility and a dad in the Hell’s Angels. Here’s a clip from the Comedy Slice to whet your appetite.

Intelligence

Available to stream on Sky and NOW TV

Last year saw Rob Lowe in Lincolnshire, now prepare for David Schwimmer in Cheltenham. The Friends actor and director starring in a six-part Sky One comedy as a “maverick NSA agent” working in the UK’s Government Communications Headquarters. He’s joined by series writer Nick Mohammed, in the role of an inept computer analyst tasked with tackling cyber-crime. Series two is on the way.

Kate And Koji

Filmed in Herne Bay, Kent, this six-episode ITV comedy stars Brenda Blethyn as Kate, the owner of a seaside café who strikes up a friendship with asylum seeker Koji, played by Jimmy Akingbola. Those two are joined by The Inbetweeners’ Blake Harrison, playing Kate’s nephew, and Meera Syal as the local GP in a timely modern story with a heart.

King Gary

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

Murder In Successville and Action Team’s Tom Davis and James De Frond teamed up again to write and direct prime time BBC One sitcom King Gary, which debuted in 2020 and was swiftly recommissioned for a second series. You may have caught the pilot episode, which aired over Christmas 2018, introducing Davis’ character – London builder Gary King, a man-child who loves his family, his suburban community, and really loves a B.B.Q – his parents played by The Fast Show’s Simon Day and Doctor Who’s Camille Coduri, and his unforgettable wife Terri, played by the very funny Laura Checkley.

Meet The Richardsons

Airing on Dave and available to stream weekly on UK TV Play

Married comedians Jon Richardson and Lucy Beaumont starred as heightened versions of themselves in Meet The Richardsons for Dave, written by Beaumont and Car Share’s Tim Reid. Inspired by Beaumont’s appearances on Richardsons’ Ultimate Worrier series for Dave, the series comically documents the couple’s parenting and relationship woes.

Mister Winner

Following a successful Comedy Playhouse pilot, Spencer Jones (Upstart Crow) returned as the hapless Leslie Winner for a six-episode series on BBC One. Joining Jones will be Shaun Williamson and Lucy Pearman, in a loveable comedy about “an eternally optimistic klutz with his heart in the right place”. If you’ve yet to see Jones’ excellent BBC iPlayer short series The Mind Of Herbert Clunkerdunk, get involved without delay.

My Left Nut

Available to stream on BBC iPlayer

Coming to BBC Three is an autobiographically inspired three-part comedy-drama from Irish writers Michael Patrick and Oisin Kearney, adapted from their acclaimed stage play. Starring Sinead Keenan (Little Boy Blue, Being Human) with newcomer Nathan Quinn-O’Rawe, it’s the story of a Belfast teenager who discovers a lump on his testicle but finds himself unable to tell those around him. A relatable, entertaining teen comedy with an important healthcare message.

Out of Her Mind

An established name on screen and the live circuit, comedian Sara Pascoe is the latest comic to write and star in her own sitcom (joining the ranks of Roisin Conaty, Aisling Bea, Josh Widdicombe and more). Her as-yet untitled series is being produced for BBC Two by Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s production company, Stolen Picture. It’s about “family, relationships and biology,” according to the press release, and will combine eccentric characters with surreal interludes and factual segments. Read about the best Netflix stand-up specials here.

Sandylands

Following on from 2019’s Isle of Wight-set family comedy The Cockfields, Gold has commissioned a second three-part original sitcom. This one’s also set on the UK coast, and tells the story of a successful Londoner who returns to her home town and reconnects with old friends and old crushes when her local businessman father disappears at sea. Sanjeev Bhaskar, David Walliams, Sophie Thompson, Hugh Bonneville and Natalie Dew star.

Semi-Detached

The pilot episode for comedy Semi-Detached, about a hapless fortysomething aired in January 2019, followed by a full series. It was written by actors David Crow and Oliver Maltman and boasted a strong comedy cast including Lee Mack, Ellie White, Samantha Spiro, Clive Russell and Patrick Baladi. The twist with this one is that all the action unfurls in real time.

The Duchess

In addition to her Netflix stand-up specials, comedian Katherine Ryan made a six-part autobiographical comedy for the streaming service. Though a familiar face on screen, this marks the first scripted series Ryan has written and executive-produced. In it, she plays “a fashionable disruptive single mother living in London”, inspired by Ryan’s own experience raising her daughter in the capital after moving here from her native Canada.

The First Team

Iain Morris and Damon Beesley, aka The Inbetweeners creators, have written a six-part half-hour sitcom for BBC Two. Formerly under the working title of Afternoons, it’s now called The First Team and details the off-pitch adventures of three Premier League footballers playing for a fictional side, “three young men who just happen to have a very stressful job in the public eye,” according to the writers. The cast includes Arrested Development‘s Will Arnett as the team’s eccentric American chairman, alongside Theo Barklam Biggs, Shaquille Ali-Yebuah, Jack McMullen, Jake Short and Chris Geere.

The Kemps: All True

Remember how much everybody loved that Bros doc? Well now BBC Four comedy is planning to capture that same lightning in a bottle with mockumentary The Kemps: All True, following the travails of another pair of pop star brothers in Spandau Ballet’s Gary and Martin Kemp. The one-off comedy from Brian Pern‘s Rhys Thomas will track the brothers as they record a new studio album. Read more about it here at the BBC.

The Trouble With Maggie Cole

Stream episodes weekly on ITV Hub

Commissioned in March 2019 by ITV under the working title Glass Houses is a six-part hour-long comedy series starring Dawn French, Mark Heap, Julie Hesmondhalgh, Vicki Pepperdine and more. It’s about the aftermath of a loose-lipped radio interview with French’s Maggie, the village gossip who spills her neighbours’ secrets on air. It comes written by Shameless and Benidorm’s Mark Brotherhood and aired on ITV1 in March.

Truth Seekers

Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’s latest collaboration is a comedy horror series for Amazon Prime Video. Filming began in September 2019 on Truth Seekers, which follows a group of paranormal investigator hobbyists who film their ghost sighting escapades for the online community, and stumble into some very strange business that could end life as we know it. There’s a great comedy cast including Pegg and Frost, including Susan Wokoma, Julian Barratt, Samson Kayo, Morgana Robinson, Kate Nash, Kevin Eldon and Malcolm McDowell.

Two Weeks To Live

Written by Cheat’s Gaby Hull, this six-episode Sky comedy is the story of misfit Kim, a young girl raised to survive in the wilderness, who re-enters society on a secret mission to honour her dead father’s memory. Game of Thrones’ Maisie Williams plays Kim, who becomes entangled in a prank-gone-wrong plot involving gangsters, a bag of cash and the police. With Kim’s survival skills, don’t expect her to come quietly…

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Here are all the forthcoming British TV dramas on their way in 2020.

The post New British comedy TV series from 2020: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Dave, Amazon, Netflix appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/35wmAsP

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

2 notes · View notes

bighound-littlebird · 5 years

Note

Sansan is my biggest ship in the books but it bothers me so much when people get upset at the show for not making it canon :// its like, Sophie is 22 and Rory is 50... I wouldn't put it past d&d to make a 20 year old have sex scenes with a 50 year old but like, why was anyone in the fandom pushing for that? Idk makes me feel wack

Considering how terrible the writing of Sansa and Sandor’s scene in 8x04 was, I think we’re all grateful they didn’t show an explicit sex scene. But they definitely implied Sansa and Sandor had sex, which is almost better, esp with D&D’s track record.

The show employed a technique old Hollywood directors used for years when explicit sex scenes were prohibited.

Leading up to the scene:

Sandor called Gendry out on wanting to find Arya so they could have sex

Sandor telling him that it was normal to do so after the near-death experience of battle

Tormund bemoaning his broken heart to Sandor

Tormund choosing another girl to bed and offering her friend to Sandor

Sansa watches as this happens

Pod accepts the proposition of two serving girls.

Sansa then notices another serving girl trying to tempt Sandor into her bed

Sansa clearly happy that Sandor rejects her multiple times and finally scares her off’

Sansa using that to decide that she would approach him aka try her hand at him

This is interspersed with the following scenes:

Gendry goes to Arya, asks her to marry him

She kisses him, then gently rejects him

It’s heavily implied that she spends the night with him

Brienne and Jaime flirting shamelessly until they both ostensibly go their separate ways

Jaime deciding to follow Brienne to her room

Brienne and Jaime deciding to have sex

And then back to Sansan:

Sansa asks what would make Sandor happy

Sandor assures her that he would never hurt her like Ramsay and Petyr

Sansa leaning in, holding and stroking his hand

Sansa then leaning back, LICKING HER LIPS, and deliberately rising and holding his gaze as she walks away.

Sandor receiving her invitation loud and clear as he finishes his drink

the next morning -

Sandor leaves Winterfell along with Arya (who spent the night with Gendry) and in a separate scene, Jaime leaves (after spending the night with Brienne) so we can clearly see a parallel between the other two couples.

So we definitely can be sure that sexy sansan times ensued, mercifully without the oversight of D&D.

Just a last thought, it’s perfectly okay to be squicked out by age differences or literally anything, but Sophie was an adult and engaged when this was filmed and no one was actually having sex, so even if they had shown it, it wouldn’t have been wrong. Squicked out doesn’t equal wrong with Sophie and Rory any more than with Joe and Maisie.

#sansan #sansa x sandor #sansa stark #sandor clegane #got show #meta #spaceandbones

206 notes · View notes

cath-with-a-c · 5 years

Text

Nothing and Everything, 4/7

in which the rules are broken

Wordcount: ~3,1k words

TW: underage drinking, physical and emotional abuse

part 1 part 2 part 3

2002

This thing was bound to go to shit, but it was too late to quit. You don’t quit drinking after you’ve already taken a few swigs, right?

“It could use some spice, to be honest,” Desmond drawled, swirling his drink in the water bottle and taking another measured sip. “Cinnamon would work, I guess.”

Rob gave him an unimpressed look. “Since when are you a cocktail expert?” he blurted out, leaning on the tree behind him. The world was slightly askew around the edges, but the feeling would pass soon.

At least he hoped so. They had maybe a few minutes left before they’d have to get back.

Desmond gave him crooked, one-sided grin and grabbed a piece of candied fruit from the packet between them. He had a little blush high up on his cheeks. “Since I have taste, dude,” he scoffed and dropped fruit into his mouth.

Rob rolled his eyes giving his friend a little shove. What Desmond tasted he didn’t know, for him, this was just a weird mix of apple juice and booze burning its way down the throat, that was becoming gradually less awful with every swig, just as Rob's head was getting lighter and lighter.

It had all started when Maisie told them she'd managed to steal a bottle of whiskey from her father’s secret cabinet, and she had been ready to go all communist and distribute it equally to every kid over the age of fourteen. The distribution itself had been the main problem - because one, it had to be evenly measured and two, alcohol was off limits on the Farm, meaning they needed to somehow cover their tracks.

The way around getting caught in the act had taken a few more days, until today they were finally tasting and toasting their victory, 2.8 ounces per water bottle, with apple juice on top to hide the smell.

“There goes another rule,” Desmond said, letting his head fall against the tree, eyes closed. Rob watched, all but hypnotized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with another swig. “We’ve been drinking for fifteen minutes and the world didn’t end. How surprising.”

“And how many left?” Rob asked, taking one more sip too.

“Four,” Desmond drawled, eyes still closed, and then amended. “Well, three, you can’t really break fourth while still being here, so. Three, I guess.”

He took a big sip and grimaced. “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” he said in a mocking tone. “More like “everything we say is true, and nothing is permitted unless we say so”, for fuck's sake.”

Rob didn't answer, taking another swig instead. He didn't really want to argue with Desmond on this again. The rising level of spite and edge in Desmond’s argument was getting uncomfortable, The Creed was there to protect and guide them, why try to tear it down so much, especially when using it?

To his relief, Desmond wasn’t really in a fighting mood too. He huffed a sigh, swirling his drink absently, and glanced down on his watch. “Ten minutes before break ends, guess we better head out,” he said, taking one more gulp, putting the bottle down under the log they were sitting on and getting up.

Rob nodded, setting down his own drink and gingerly getting up too. He still had enough sobriety left to realize that, even if his feet were steady enough, any and all acrobatics were out of the question.

Desmond, who seemed surprisingly better at holding his liquor, put a steadying hand over Rob’s shoulders. “Let’s take a long way back, okay?”

They’ve crossed the woods, heading back along the running track that surrounded the Farm as some sort of old fortifications, red stripes on the trees marking every hundred feet. The walk through familiar woods cleared Rob’s head a little, and, by the time they’ve reached the Farm, he was pretty sure no one could tell he was tipsy.

He turned his head to Desmond to say as much when all of a sudden Desmond’s hand on his shoulder tensed and he took it off. “Mom,” he greeted in a forcefully light tone that nearly made Rob cringe.

He turned back to see Mrs. Miles briskly walking towards them with a deep frown on her face. She stopped just a few feet ahead, arms crossed over her chest, brown eyes hard. “Son,” she replied, mimicking his voice. “Be a dear, let me smell your breath.”

Rob’s stomach dropped. “That’s a weird request, mom,” Desmond said lightly, and Maria scowled at him.

“Now,” she demanded icily, and Desmond’s shoulders dropped. Mrs. Miles looked at both of their guilty faces for a few seconds and nodded. "With me."

She led them to the center of the Farm in dead silence. Rob sneaked a glanced at Desmond, who was looking straight ahead, and Rob wasn’t sure he was even blinking.

In front of the central hall, there was a group of teens surrounded by a group of adults. Rob counted the others hastily. Five. Apart from them, there were five others, meaning that two weren't caught, and, aside from clearly anxious Maisie and red-eyed Colin, everyone seemed more or less fine.

As if echoing Rob's thoughts, Desmond sighed in relief and, glancing at him, drew a letter S in the air.

Oh, that's right. Sammy wasn't there. And Daria. The two nerds must've been too busy for a drink. Or just sneaky enough, who cares, it was a relief either way.

"I think that's all of them," Maria said, joining other disgruntled adults. "Where's Bill?"

Ned, Maisie's father nodded at the central hall. "Said he'd be in a moment." he then gave the teens a sidelong glance. "The whole lot of them, eh? That's new. Do you know where they've got the stuff?"

Maisie visibly tensed at his words, and Desmond gently patted her on the back.

"It's gonna be fine," he whispered just loud enough for her and Rob to hear, a comforting lie. Rob could honestly appreciate his effort

"No, they wouldn't tell," Colin's mother, Theo, grumbled, eyeing her son.

“They will, eventually,” Maria assured her, and Rob shivered a little.

The chatter died, as William Miles emerged from the central hall with Rob's own dad in tow. His face was a particular kind of stormy, but compared to William, he was completely chill.

"Line up!" William barked and before Rob could even comprehend what was said, his legs moved, placing him between Desmond and Colin. Their shoulders brushed and Rob realized that Desmond was tense, as if ready for an attack.

William paced in front of them, looking every teen in the face, like he was trying to read their minds, but not sparing Desmond even a glance. "Which one of you did it?“ he asked in a chillingly even voice. "You better tell me, or you are all going to be punished as severely as whoever started it. Think about it.“

The only answer he got was silence. Rob carefully watched as the muscles of William’s face twitched, and felt a little wave of weird satisfaction. They weren't all best friends, but there was no way they would tattle. No one was going to throw Maisie under the bus, no one-

"I did it," Desmond said, in a monotone. He almost sounded bored. "It was my idea."

Rob turned to him, almost choking on air. Desmond was looking straight ahead, with the same blank stare that had been haunting Rob's dreams for years.

For a few moments the silence around them was deafening like everything has stopped until it was broken by a cry:

"Wait, no, it's not him, it's me!“ Maisie stepped forward, visibly trembling. "I stole the bottle, not Desmond!“

William pinned her to the spot with the same icy stare. "Ms. Snow, as commendable it is to stand up for your peers, you shouldn't try to take the blame for my son."

Maisie made a strangled sound. "But-" she started again only to be cut off by Desmond.

"Mais. Stop it," he said, turning to her. "You know you didn't do it."

He then turned again, calmly looking his father in the eyes. "I did it. I stole the bottle from Mr. Snow's cabinet."

He continued, explaining the steps he took, sounding so sure, Rob was deterred for a moment. Desmond was selling it like a good actor sells a role. As if nudged, Rob looked at adults, who were murmuring about themselves, nodding along.

“Why am I not surprised,” Maria sighed, looking tired.

It dawned on Rob that this was something expected, they were expecting Desmond to be the one behind this.

Suddenly Rob remembered, how lucky they seemed as kids, how a lot of problems and pranks, guaranteed to get them a whooping, would go unnoticed.

Had they really?

"Step forward, Desmond," William's voice cut through his thoughts. Desmond's shoulder, tense and hot under thin t-shirt brushed Rob's and he barely curbed the urge to grab his friend by the arm.

“You have disappointed me, son,” William said in a low, flat tone, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Big fucking news,” he said, spitefully, and William backhanded him in an instant, making his head whip to the side. The slap resonated, making Rob wince.

“What,” William all but growled, sounding like a big, angry dog. “Did I tell you about swearing, boy?”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Desmond murmured, gingerly touching his cheek, shoulders dropping, fight seemingly drained from him.

“Bill,” Maria reprimanded, glancing around. “Not in front of the others.”

William spared her a quick look and nodded. “You are right,” he said and turned to adults. “Everyone is dismissed. Desmond, with us.”

Without another word, he walked away and Desmond followed, like a puppet on strings, throwing Rob one last glance over the shoulder.

Rob wanted to run after him, to ask, why the hell he would do something so stupid, but his own father had already taken him by the shoulder and was leading him away, to their home.

Because his father was a virtual saint, Rob was let off the hook with minimal casualties - he just sighed, asked Rob to be more responsible in the future and shifted the curfew by a couple of hours. William wasn’t so lenient, though - the next day after mandatory morning training, he made all of those caught line up in front of the other kids for a public shunning, giving them an almost an hour lecture on why their actions are a disgrace to the community and the Brotherhood at large, most of which went completely over Rob’s head because he was too busy trying to find Desmond anywhere.

Desmond wasn’t there. Which, probably, shouldn’t have been that surprising - that happened before, he would disappear after they got busted, and then he’d be back later in the day, but something wasn’t sitting comfortably in Rob’s chest. They’d never, like, had been caught breaking an actual rule before, and Desmond’s confession certainly didn't give him any points too.

The lecture concluded with the punishment being dealt - they’d have to run ten miles instead of five every morning for the next four weeks, and they’re not allowed to have water bottles on them for the same period of time - and the teens were finally allowed to resume their daily routines, which Rob did, still being on a lookout for Desmond.

Desmond didn’t show up throughout the day, and the next day, and the day after that. Rob, dread settled comfortably in the pit of his stomach, asked around, but no one has seen him since the Whiskey Incident. As Maisie, who also noticed his absence and was visibly distraught by that, put it, this was like Desmond had disappeared from the face of the earth.

By the sixth day, Rob had almost worked up the courage to just go and ask Mrs. Miles about Desmond. He was sitting on their clearing, having just seen Sam and Penny off, sharpening the knives and rehearsing in his head what he was going to say, when-

“Rob,” he heard and his head whipped up. Desmond was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking at him with a half-smile.

“Desmond!” Rob dropped the knife and sprang on his feet, breathing freely for the first time in days, the knot in his chest dissipating.

He almost crushed Desmond with a hug, provoking a small laugh.

“Dude, I was gone for… for… for a few days, stop acting like I was in a war or something,” he said finally and lightly tapped Rob on the back. “Let go, I wanna sit.”

Rob did let go, with a momentary reluctance and got a good look on his friend. It was a habit of his since they were little and just getting into training and trouble - scan for injuries first. Desmond looked fine, more or less, maybe a little bit paler than usual, and his gaze wandered a little. As soon as Rob let go, he swayed a little before plopping on the ground with a wince.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Rob asked, sitting down too. “It’s been days!”

“How many?” Desmond suddenly asked and Rob frowned.

“It’s Friday now, it’s been five full days since the whiskey,” he said slowly. “Desmond, what happened?”

Desmond shrugged, leaning against the tree with another wince and draping an arm over his eyes. “I was in the Box,” he finally answered.

Oh. Rob knew the place, was there with Desmond once, kinda long ago, when they got caught stealing cookies by Maria and were put there to wait for their fathers. It wasn’t really a box, just a small room with an equally small adjacent bathroom. It was eerie, dark, with the only light being the one coming from the small, grey-tinted bathroom window, nothing but a sleeping bag to sit on and pretty much no sound but his and Desmond’s breathing, because the walls were soundproofed. It has only been a couple of hours, but Rob was still uncomfortable remembering it.

“Wait, you’ve been there for the whole time?” he asked, incredulously. When Desmond didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Dude...That’s long. They didn’t let you out at all? What about food?”

“Nah, they didn’t,” Desmond replied in tired monotone. “They don’t talk to me when I’m in the Box. And I was fed, once a day, not that it helped a lot. They got me oats, you know I hate those. I ended up barfing most of them up anyway.”

Rob silently got up, trying and failing to imagine how it could feel - alone, in the dark, no sense of time, no food, just darkness, and walls and your own breathing. It felt nauseating, Moving over to his stash, he pulled out a couple of protein bars. When he turned back, Desmond was already lying on the ground, eyes still closed. Rob tossed the bars on his chest.

“Eat,” Rob said, settling down again.

“Thanks. Don’t worry, It’s fine,” Desmond said forcefully, starting to unwrap the first bar. “At least I didn’t need to train with the mess on my back, that’d be shitty.”

Rob stilled “What mess?” he asked slowly. Instead of answering, Desmond just sat upright with a wince and pulled at his t-shirt. making it ride up. His back was painted with welts, most of them already yellow, but some looking like they’d barely scabbed over. The nausea returned in full force.

“Your father did that?” he blurted out, and Desmond sighed, letting the thin cotton fall down again.

“Yep. Speaking of which, I should probably go,” he said with regret, looking at his watch. “He and mom are out of the house, but I think they’ll be back soon.”

Rob nodded and got up first, grabbing Desmond by the wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The short walk back to the Farm was filled with the crackling of the wrap, as Desmond devoured the bars and asked after others in-between the bites. Rob answered, giving him as much info as he knew, and suddenly realized, that others mostly got out as easy as him. Colin had it a little rough with his strict mom, but otherwise, everyone was… fine. Even Maisie's father decided it was a clever enough prank to be treated as such. Don't do it again, no dessert for a couple of weeks, and that's all.

Desmond hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Good," he said. "I probably won't be coming to our place in some time."

"What? Why?" Rob asked, frowning.

"Dad said if I have enough time to steal bottles and give my peers the alcohol poisoning, that means I have enough time for more training and chores,” Desmond shrugged. “So… Not really sure if I'd have long enough broken to come over."

Robert wanted to reply, but they have already stepped out of the woods behind Desmond’s house. His window on the second floor, looking out to the forest was wide open.

"Gimme a boost?" Desmond asked and Rob nodded, standing with his back to the wall and locking his hands. Desmond stopped and looked around again. Rob could only see a part of his face, but he could tell longing in Desmond’s eyes. Longing and anger.

"You know what?" Desmond said, turning back. He stepped into Rob's personal space, warm brown eyes shining feverishly. His mouth was twisted into an almost hateful sneer. "Fuck the rules."

He then stepped up and Rob boosted him without thinking, confused by this sudden change of attitude. When he glanced up, Desmond was already in, looking out of the window, face all hard lines, jaw set.

"Fuck. The. Rules," he repeated before disappearing into the house without a goodbye.

Rob stayed, frozen to the spot for a few moments, and then turned around and walked away. There was some new emptiness inside him, and he suddenly felt very tired. He could still see Desmond’s angry face in his mind.

William Miles passed him by, cold and confident as ever, and Rob stopped abruptly, every hair on his head standing up. He thought of yellow bruises and red welts, of a dark, empty room, how all he needed to do was be at home in 1900 hours instead of 2100.

Why was William so harsh on Desmond? Wasn’t beating and five days in the Box enough of a punishment?

“Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Rob scoffed and shook his head.

Maybe everything was permitted, he thought defiantly. But this shouldn't be.

part 5

ao3 link

#Assassin's Creed #Desmond Miles #Assassin's Creed Fanfic #assassin's creed oc #william miles #oh look maria miles is here #and she is fine with her son being beaten #i honestly feel dead #tw: child abuse #tw: torture #tw: alcohol #tw: abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse

10 notes · View notes

ragingbulldurham · 6 years

Note

Prompt - Maisie introduces Clair and Owen as her mom and dad

Bah! Sorry this took so long. Stupid actual life obligations. Hope it’s worth the wait! Enjoy!

They had a routine now. The cabin was finally finished, and though Claire still needed to be in the city some days, most days she could work remotely from the small office that Owen built for her in the back of the cabin. Authorities had, with both Claire and Owen’s help, tracked down the majority of the dinosaurs that were roaming free (although what kept Claire up was all of the ones that were sold before they could stop it, all the predators in the hands of dangerous people and all of the damage they could do). They enrolled Maisie in a local school, and they had settled into something resembling a normal life. Claire would finish working close to when Maisie’s bus came, and she and Owen would walk down their long driveway, hands tangled together, to where the bus dropped the nine-year-old off. Claire loved those lazy walks, hips bumping together as they talked about everything and nothing (as it turned out, another close encounter with death was all they needed to be able to figure their shit out. “I don’t ever want to be without you again,” Owen told her that first night, when Maisie’s deep breathing could be heard across the small motel room. His hands had roamed, quietly, insistently, and she had to bite back moans to not wake up the sleeping girl. “When I think about how close I was to losing you…” He shuddered, remembering her in the gyrosphere, watching her sink, her eyes wide in panic and her hands splayed across the glass. He tugged her closer, his grip just shy of painfully tight, careful not to jostle her injured leg. “I know, I know,” Claire murmured into his skin. His lips were warm on hers as he breathed in her ear, “love you, Claire, love you.” There had been no more discussion about their status as a couple when they woke up, limbs intertwined. This time, when Owen said they would stick together for survival, it was a promise and not a suggestion).

Maisie would hop off the bus, backpack flying behind her as she came barreling towards them, arms flung out around both of them. On the way back, Claire or Owen would take her hand, and catch each other’s eyes and smile fondly as Maisie rambled on about her day. It was, all things considered, as good as it could be. They had tracked down Iris, and with a little bit of pressure, some help from Franklin, and a whole pile of money (“Don’t think about it,” Owen had said to Claire when she bit her lip and worried about dipping into Maisie’s trust to grease some palms. “This is for her future.”), they had been granted legal custody of her. (Well, Claire had. As they weren’t married yet, it made more practical sense for Claire to be her guardian. A matter which Owen had to a plan to solve, though he hadn’t admitted as much to Claire yet. What he had so far was a ring burning a hole in his pocket, and Maisie impatiently waiting for him to ask. He had taken Maisie with him to help pick out Claire’s ring, and he knew he was asking a lot of the nine-year-old to keep it a secret for very much longer.) What hadn’t happened yet, was Maisie hadn’t called either one of them by anything other than Owen and Claire, and Claire repeatedly said she didn’t mind that Maisie didn’t refer to them as her parents, and that it was something that would just take time. Owen believed that Claire believed that on an intellectual level, but he wasn’t so sure he bought that she truly meant that on an emotional level. But she never pushed, she never asked Maisie do anything she wasn’t ready or comfortable with, and so it hadn’t happened. It was on a Tuesday that Owen and Claire walked down to get Maisie off the bus, that she bounced over and thrust a piece of paper at them. “Here,” she announced. It was a flyer for the fourth grade play the following week. And then without taking a breath she blurted, “Ihaveaspeakingrolebutyoudon'thavetocomeifyoudon'twantto.” “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claire promised, dropping a kiss to the top of Maisie’s head. Maisie grinned and then launched into a story about science class, and Claire tucked the paper in her back pocket and held out her hand. Maisie took it instantly, and Owen slung an arm around Claire’s shoulder. The problem was, that despite Claire’s best efforts to shuttle everything on the day of the play, a meeting was thrown on her calendar that she wasn’t able to push. Owen knew that she felt terrible about it, and she promised Maisie over and over that she would make it. “You have to film it. Every second of it, just in case,” Claire made him promise the night before, her head tucked beneath his chin, and his fingers combing through her hair. “You’ll make it,” he reassured, and she made a noise that wasn’t quite an agreement, and buried her nose in his shirt. She was a bundle of nerves leaving for the office the next day, bringing up Google maps on her phone to check the drive time (as if she didn’t know it) from the office to the school for the hundredth time. “Go,” Owen commanded, giving her a kiss and shoving a coffee in her hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I’ll be there!” She shouted back to Maisie, who rolled her eyes with Owen, but he saw the little girl bite her lip and figured it meant more than she was letting on to have Claire there. He got to the school extra early to snag a couple of seats, and showed great restraint in not texting Claire for an update on her ETA every five minutes. She was either driving, or God forbid, still in her meeting, and he didn’t want to add stress to either of those situations. He saw Maisie poke her head out from behind the side curtain and he gave her a small wave. She flashed a nervous smile that noticeably dimmed when she saw that Claire wasn’t beside him. He gave her a thumbs up, and she disappeared again. “Come on Claire,” he muttered as the lights started to dim in the auditorium. He was loosing hope when he heard a familiar voice, “excuse me, excuse me,” and he couldn’t help the relieved grin that flashed across his face as she dropped into the seat next to him.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I broke so many laws getting here.” Owen saw Maisie’s head peek out once again from behind the curtain and couldn’t miss the wide smile when she spotted Claire. Claire gave her a small wave, and clear as day, both of them heard Maisie say to the girl next to her, “My mom made it!” Mom.

Claire let out a choked laugh next to him, and he was not surprised to find tears making their way down her cheeks. He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. Mom.

He knew Claire paid zero attention to the play, lost in her own head, but she jumped to her feet to give Maisie a standing ovation when she came out to take her bow. Maisie gave them a small wave, and then trotted off the stage. Owen tugged Claire to her feet and they made their way to the lobby to find Maisie. “You made it!” Maisie squealed, propelling herself forward into Claire’s arms. “I told you I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claire breathed, hugging Maisie to her tightly. “You were great, kiddo,” Owen told her handing her the flowers Claire had instructed him to stop and buy, and she grinned up at him.

“There’s Ms. Marshall,” Maisie exclaimed, grabbing Claire and Owen’s hands and dragging them forward. “Ms. Marshall! These are my parents.” Owen grinned, a warm feeling rushing over him. He caught Claire’s eye and her grin was so wide that he half thought it would split her face. “It’s so nice to meet you,” Claire said, extending a hand. “I’m Claire, and this is Owen.” It was the start of a trend, Maisie pulling them along to meet friends and other teachers, introducing them as her parents and it never got old. Hearing it never once got old. Finally, Owen clapped a hand on Maisie’s shoulder.

“How about we go get some ice cream sundaes to celebrate?” He suggested and Maisie cheered. It was only later, after Maisie was tucked into bed, that Claire cried in earnest, fat, happy tears rolling down as Owen brushed kisses to her cheeks. “She called me mom,” Claire’s voice, watery and so full of joy made Owen feel so full and content that he thought he might overflow. He kissed her again, tasting the salt, and wrapped his arms around her, molding her body to his. These are my parents. It just wouldn’t get old.

#clawen #claire x owen #claire dearing #Owen Grady #maisie lockwood #prompt #fanfiction #JWFK #jwfk fanfiction

310 notes · View notes