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fernweh-writes · 3 years

Note

Hey hi hello!! I am in love with all of your slasher content!! (I may or may not have been stalking your page all day 😂)

Could I request the slashers (especially Michael 😘) with an s/o who is constantly cold?

Thank you!!! 🎉

I live in Georgia where it’s hotter than Hades and still freeze to death. Probably cause my family keeps the thermostat set on 65… but regardless my hands and feet are always freezing and that’s on poor circulation

-Fern🌿

S/O Who Stays Cold

Michael Myers

He produces plenty of heat but is very stingy with his warmth.

Michael is not big on cuddling, or touch of any kind for that matter. So it’s very rare that he actually let’s you cuddle up to him and steal some of his warmth. Usually he only allows it when you begin to shiver because when you’re that cold you get upset easily and he doesn’t like that.

He will make you a fire in the fireplace though in an attempt to keep you warm. Sadly since he is a human space heater this does also mean the fire makes the house to hot for him to stick around. But don’t worry he’ll just go about his murder things and let you keep warm.

Seeing you asleep on the ground by the fireplace with blankets wrapped around you is enough to make him cave in. You’re asleep anyways so it’s not like you’re going to notice him carrying you upstairs and tucking you in while he wraps himself around you to keep you warm…

Bo Sinclair

“We’re in Louisiana darlin’ there ain’t no such thing as cold”

Bo doesn’t understand how you can be cold in Ambrose. The place is so hot and humid and the air in the old house ain’t all that great. Not to mention, the summers are absolutely brutal. Seeing you walk around bundled up confuses the fuck out of him.

He likes to act like you’re just playing it up for attention. “Now darlin’ if you want me to hold ya all you gotta do is ask.” But he knows that you can’t fake shivering.

At night he pulls you so close to him you’d think he was trying to keep you from escaping. As much as he enjoys holding you close it’s best to keep your cold feet off of him or else he’ll get grumpy.

Vincent Sinclair

If you stay cold then Vincent will be your favorite person ever. Living with him you will not know what cold is!

With all the candles and the fire, Vincent’s workshop is always very warm and cozy. Plus he’s more than okay with letting you bundle up in the blankets on his bed if you want to be warmer.

He’s also more than happy to lend you on of his sweaters! After all he has plenty of them, hope you don’t mind some little spots of wax on them though. Plus he thinks the way they engulf you is adorable.

Need a cuddle buddy in order to keep warm? No problem! Cuddling with Vincent is a great way to stay warm seeing as he loves having you close. If he is busy then you can always coax Jonesy onto the bed with you. Of course you have to give her attention to make her stay, but the same can be said for Vincent.

Thomas Hewitt

This man is a human heater and no one can change my mind. He is large, warm, perfect for cuddling. 100% husband material right there.

Unlike some of the other slashers he is not stingy with his warmth. Thomas adores being able to spend time with you and just hold you close to him. Keeping you warm by cuddling you is so intimate and innocent and he loves it.

Would probably enjoy the fact you stay cold. Your cold hands and feet are very appreciated by him actually. The Texas heat is atrocious and your cold skin offers him some temporary relief from the inescapable heat. Plus you get to be warm so really it’s a win win situation here.

Will also smother you with blankets when you get cold in the winter. The old house doesn’t stay heated very easily, the only source of warmth being the fire place. Luckily Thomas has less work to do in the winter, which means you can cling to him for warmth all that you want!

Brahms Heelshire

Oh you’re cold? Here take his sweater! He won’t admit that he stole yours and cuddled with it within the walls and he’s not going to give it back so you can just borrow his.

Brahms is very clingy. Like needs to be attached to your hip 24/7 clingy. So of course he’s always down to cuddle in order to keep you warm.

Might even start turning the thermostat down to get you to seek him out and hold him. That or he will start claiming that he’s cold and he always keeps you warm so it’s only fair that you do the same for him. In other words, he takes advantage of your inability to stay warm.

Brahms also likes to wrap you up in blankets and cuddle with you by the fireplace on rainy days. The rain can make the old mansion even colder than usual. Luckily for Brahms, it rains pretty often!

Billy Loomis

If you put your cold ass feet on him he’s going to be very upset. Billy will 100% make a scene if you try it, don’t test him. Especially on movie night, he can’t focus on his horror movies when your cold limbs are trying to steal his warmth.

Will lend you his comfortable warm clothes though. He may have a bunch of the same white shirts but he has some hoodies and sweatpants buried somewhere in his room. Good luck finding them though because he’s not helping.

Good luck trying to get him to cuddle with you after putting your cold hands on him. You lost that privilege when you wouldn’t keep your hands and feet to yourself. He’ll still get up and get you blankets but he complains about it the whole time.

We all know this boy loves to sneak in windows so you can expect some surprise visits at night. If you complain about being cold, he will tuck you in before he leaves so the warmth can’t escape. Billy can be sweet sometimes.

Stu Macher

Oh you’re cold? Here take his sweater! Stu loves seeing you wear his clothes, it just does something for him. He thinks they look better on you and encourages you to raid his closet whenever you please. He thinks it’s cute seeing you walk around in his clothes that pretty much swallow you whole.

This boy will buy you so many blankets! Stu likes to make forts out of them with you so to him they’re a worthy investment. Plus he knows you’ll pile multiple blankets on top of you, so they all get used.

Stu is very physically affectionate. I think it’s safe to say that touch is his love language. So you already know that he’s always down to cuddle with you to help you keep warm. Unlike Billy, he doesn’t mind your cold hands. Let him hold them to warm them up for you!

Asa Emory

He has plenty of warm clothes for you to steal. Surprisingly, he doesn’t mind if you borrow his clothes, as long as you give them back. Also just try not to take anything he plans on wearing either or he’ll get a little upset. Likes the way his clothes smell like you when you give them back.

Asa is away most of the time which means you have free reign over the thermostat in the house. Just know that as soon as Asa gets home he’s turning it back down though. It’s not like you need to keep the house 100° when he’s around.

Once Asa is comfortable with you I believe that he likes for you to be affectionate with him. He may not reciprocate the touch much, but he definitely enjoys it. So when you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth he’s not going to complain!

Jesse Cromeans

Buys you only the highest quality of blankets to keep you warm. This includes only the best heated and weighted blankets as well. However he refuses to put a thick comforter on the bed. Why would you need one anyways, you have him?

Jesse hates that he can’t always be there. His business trips can keep him away anywhere from weeks to months at a time. But when he returns he always makes up for it and makes sure to keep you warm at night.

There isn’t any reason for you to raid his closet. After all, he buys you more clothes than you could ever want anyways. But still, he thinks it’s cute when you do and loves the way you insist his clothes are just warmer and comfier as an excuse to keep them.

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slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

Heeey. Hello. First, please accept my admiration for your talent! Your works is so delicious and beautiful. You're amazing!

I'll understand if you refuse my request. It's ok, really.

Can i have a sad, depressive S/O, with suicidal tendencies and self hate, who has found a home and a loving family with the Sinclair brothers? Like, she became part of their family. If you're okay with polyamory, then, like, as a wife to them. If not - sister. Both will be wonderful. Thank you.

Take care of yourself, and remember, that you are wonderful and so talented! You deserve the best!

Warnings: Themes of suicide and depression, hints of Polyamory

Finding a Home with the Sinclair Brothers:

When you first rolled into Ambrose, you met Lester first when your car broke down.

He was kind and helpful, if not a little strange, and he instantly sensed that there was something about you. He didn’t know what, but you just seemed...sad.

Either way, the two of you got along as he took you into Ambrose.

That’s where you met Bo, he also picked up on your more subtle behaviours but didn’t care quite as much.

When Vincent saw you, he saw something familiar in you.

Neither of the three brothers could quite describe what they were thinking or why they were thinking it but when they talked about how to deal with you, it quickly became clear that none of them where thinking of you purely as a victim.

Something about you had activated some sort of protectiveness in the three men, and that’s what led to them keeping you around.

At first you just gave in to your fate, not really having the motivation or fight to resist and eventually escape. You thought it better to just find acceptance, which made things easier for you really.

Lester was the kindest at first, always making you feel welcome, which was a little odd considering your situation but it was...nice.

Then Vincent started coming out of his shell more around you, eventually presenting you with a gift. A little wax figure in your honour. It was sweet, you still have it to this day and cherish it.

Eventually you and Bo started to warm up to each other, it took longer than it did with his brothers, but you started to like him too. You started seeing a less intimidating and aggressive side of him.

Eventually the town you were being held at had become your home. It was a gradual process but it truly had become your home and the Sinclair brothers had become your family.

You had taken on a more traditional housewife like role in the family. Everyone had to play their part, and this was yours.

Both for their sake and yours, you were the better cook (Vincent being the better between the brothers), and seemed to be more interested in keeping things clean than they did.

They appreciate everything you do for them, Lester and Vincent being better at expressing that than Bo.

You become a great source of support for the brothers, being able to support them in the different ways they needed, to love them in the different ways they needed but with your whole heart.

Though, the support isn’t one sided.

The brothers are always there for you, at least in their own ways.

Vincent is the one who sympathises with you the most, being able to relate to your feelings of self-hatred, being able to support you through your depressive thoughts and provide comfort. On bad days there is nothing more that the two of you need than to just cuddle up together.

Lester loves to hype you up and tries to bring you out of your shell. He makes sure you get out of the house and even outside of Ambrose a bit by insisting you join him and Jonesy on a walk. He always manages to put a smile on your face.

Bo always makes you feel safe, you know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, nobody will get near enough to you to cause you harm. When visitors comes to town, Bo has you possessively glued to his hip before sending you off to find Vincent where you would be safe.

If going into town with Bo or Lester for the day will put a smile on your face, they’ll take you, trusting you to want to return to Ambrose with them. On the flip side, if you just want to cut yourself off from the outside world, not needing anything but the Sinclairs, they’re more than happy with that.

They happy for your new addition to the town, thinking you found your place perfectly. And you thought the same thing, you found your home and your family here.

Of course, it wasn’t all quite so simple. It took a long time for you to come out of your shell and accept the brothers, it took some time for you to realise that you were actually starting to feel happy there.

And, of course, the brothers hadn’t all been thrilled by each other’s interest in you.

Things weren’t always smooth sailing. Bo is possessive over you and taunting towards his brothers, but you always reassure them and even chastise Bo when he goes too far. You can get away with it, Vincent and Lester wouldn’t let Bo say a simple bad word.

And there is often some fighting over your time and attention.

But it all worked out in the end.

As simple as it was, you felt like you had a purpose in Ambrose. To love and be loved by these men.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #My writing

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

Text

Your Friends Were All Standing Around Looking At Your Cock The Other Dayee...

Interior of the farm house. WAYNE, KATY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN stand around the table, looking at something.

KATY: It's a beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh, it's a gorgeous cock.

DAN, shifting from foot to foot, uncomfortably: Now I'ms nots denyings that it's a mightys fines cocks. I just thinks its mights not bes appropriates to have sets outs on the supper tables is all.

KATY: Oh Dan, there's been far worse things than a cock on this table.

WAYNE growls: Better not have been them hockey nutsacks.

KATY: I'm a big girl, Wayne. None of your business what nutsacks I'm spending time with.

WAYNE, begrudgingly: True.

DAN: You knows whats you're afters, miss Katys, and that's what I appreciates about you.

KATY, flirtatiously: Oh, is that what you appreciate about me?

WAYNE: Take about ten, twenty percent off her over there Squirrelly Dan.

DAN, looking at the table: Oh hey look. A cock. What is sets most unhygenicallys on the table we eats off ofs.

KATY: Jesus Dan. Hop off our cocks.

WAYNE: Besides, you're a bigger degen than Dary if you eat directly off the table.

DAN: Where is Darys anyways? Ain't like him to miss such a magnificents cocks.

DARY enters the KITCHEN: Sorry I'm late. Spent all morning wrangling my cock into its cage.

DAN, sympathetically: Its was giving yous some troubles thens?

DARY: Kept making itself all big and plumped up. Couldn't get it to fit in the cage. Ended up having to really wrassle with it for a good long while.

KATY: Could say you had to take your cock firmly in hand there, Dary?

WAYNE: Pert near had to choke that chicken, I'd imagine.

DARY: Pert near.

DAN: But yous gots it settled downs and ins its cage?

DARY nods and hefts a rooster in a wire cage into frame: Yup. Tuckered it out eventually. Now it's placid as anything.

WAYNE: Now that's a handsome cock, Dary. A right handsome cock.

DARY, bashful: Aw, it ain't nothing special. Not like yours, Wayne.

WAYNE SHIFTS OUT OF THE WAY. PAN TO ROOSTER ON THE TABLE.

DARY: Now that's a real handsome cock, and well behaved to boot.

WAYNE: Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Ok, Dary. Dary, ok. Youwannaknowwhat? Here's the scoop and I'm gonna tell ya. I look at your cock and I think, well, I think: good for you buddy. Just like, good for you bud. Like I'm real proud of ya, Dary.

DAN: It's a mightys fines cocks, Dary. Yous gots every rights to be prouds.

KATY: Nothing wrong with a spirited cock, anyways.

DARY, bashful: Still reckon yours'll be the cock to beat down the Ag Festival, Wayne.

WAYNE: Oh it's a handsome cock all right.

KATY: A beautiful cock.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

DARY: Not to be pulling your own horn over there.

DAN: Oh yous shoulds nevers do thats. Leastwise nots ins mixed companies.

KATY: Says you.

WAYNE, abrupt: No hard feelings Dary. Regardless of who beats whose cock.

DARY: No hard feelings.

WAYNE holds his hand straight out for DARY to shake: Then may the man with the best cock win.

LETTERKENNY TITLE BUT THERE IS A ROOSTER INSTEAD OF A DOG.

ESTABLISHING SHOTS OF A FAIRGROUD.

EXTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING.

INTERIOR SHOT OF THE AG BUILDING. WAYNE, KATY, DARY, and SQUIRRELLY DAN are standing around a table with ROOSTERS in cages on it. The DYCKS and the HOCKEY PLAYERS are also there, standing further down the room.

GLEN enters with a clipboard, officiators badge: Wayne! How're you now?

WAYNE: Good'nyou?

GLEN: Oh, I'm just dripping with excitement to be judging all y'alls cocks. Especially yours Wayne.

WAYNE squints into the distance.

DAN: You're judgings the competitions?

GLEN: Indeed I am, Daniel. Although admittedly I misunderstood the nature of the event when I first volunteered to judge. But! I have plenty of experience judging cocks from my years on the family poultry farm. The cocks I raised as a youth...

WAYNE: Pitter patter.

GLEN: Well, fine. If you don't appreciate hearing about my cock judging credentials.

DARY, snickering: Pretty sure pert near everyone in town knows 'bout those.

GLEN: True but uncalled for, Daryl!

NOAH DYCK, joining the hicks: I for one think it is admirable that Preacher Glen has experience handling and judging cocks. And from his boyhood, once.

WAYNE: Noah.

NOAH: Wayne.

DARY: Mr. Dyck.

NOAH: Daryl.

DAN: Noahs Dycks.

NOAH: Daniel. A pity Lovina Dyck could not make it to the cock judging. I'm certain she would have had she known you were showing your cock. For is it not true, mine wife, that the love tree often bears fruit when a young man parades his cock before his sweetheart, once?

ANITA approaches: What nonsense are you speaking now, Noah?

NOAH: Simply that a Dyck chooses a lifemate in part by how well she-

KATY: Or he.

DAN: Ors theys.

NOAH: -raises a cock. Did not you impress me with your cock raising skills when first we were courting?

ANITA, blushing: You say too much, husband.

NOAH: And did not you help raise this cock which I am showing proudly this day, once? Why without mine Anita Dyck's loving and tender hand, this cock would be but small and limp and lifeless.

ANITA: Us Snatches have always had a way with cocks, as well you know.

NOAH: A good thing too. Us Dycks require a skilled hand with raising our cocks. Lovina will be delighted to know you've raised such a magnificent cock as are being shown here this day. Perhaps I shall send one of my young sons to go fetch her, once. So that she might see your cock.

DAN, hurriedly: Oh nos, I'm nots showings anybodys anythings. That's all Waynes and Darys.

GLEN: Daryl! I didn't realize you were showing your cock today too. Oh, this is so exciting! Me, in the middle of a Daryl/Wayne cock sandwich.

WAYNE growls.

GLEN: Although I don't know how I'm supposed to choose between the two of your cocks. I think it will take some lengthy deliberation.

KATY: This is already taking fucking forever, I'm going to go sit down.

DAN: I'll join yous, miss Katys.

KATY as they leave: Still not over Lovina Dyck, eh?

DAN: I don'ts knows that I'll evers stop thinkings abouts Lovinas Dycks, miss Katys. Ands that's a facts.

KATY and SQUIRRELLY DAN exit.

DARY (aside): Katy's right. This is taking fucking forever.

WAYNE to GLEN: I say again. Pitter. Patter.

GLEN whines.

WAYNE: If a man should be one thing, he should be efficient.

GLEN: Fine. Everyone here? Then lets get y'all registered. What's your cocks' names? I'm sure you've come up with some good ones.

WAYNE: Plenty of good names for cocks.

DARY: Oh, you can have a lot of fun naming cocks.

WAYNE: I'm surprised we're not naming cocks right now.

DARY: Could name one after the fictional prizefighter Cocky Balboa.

WAYNE: Or the legendary real life comedian Chris Cock.

DARY: There's always actor and former wrassler Dwayne the Cock Johnson.

GLEN: Ooh, that's a two-for-one special right there.

WAYNE: Or jazz musician John Cocktrain.

DARY: I like that one.

WAYNE: Not too obscure?

DARY: Nah, it's a gooder. Cultured - but not trying too hard.

GLEN: All right, all right. So what are your cocks' names?

DARY: Cock.

GLEN: Come again? And please note, I'm saying that in a completely different context to the one I usually use.

DARY: My cock's called cock. I din't name the damn thing. I know what it looks like.

WAYNE: Well I should hope so.

DARY: And I only got the one. Not liable to mix it up with someone else's cock.

GLEN: Ok. Fine, Dary. Ruin all my fun. TURNS TO WAYNE. What about you, Wayne? What's the big fella called?

WAYNE: Only nutsacks name their cocks.

RILEY breaking into the group around GLEN: We're all saying our cock's names, boys?

JONESY: Just naming silly cock over here, boys?

RILEY: Just christening silly amounts of cock over here, boys?

WAYNE: Again, only nutsacks name their cocks.

GLEN: Yes, boys. Everyone who's entering the cock judging needs to tell me their cock's name so I can make sure to call out the right name during the handling. It's just so embarrassing to call the cock in your hands by the wrong name...

RILEY: We've got a cock to register for judging, boys.

JONESY: Well, really it's Riley's cock we're entering. And it's a real beauty, buddy.

RILEY: Hey, buddy. It's as much your cock as mine. It is a real beauty though buddy.

JONESY: Just a real beauty of a cock here, boys.

RILEY: Half clapper top cheddar.

JONESY: Guaranteed W. Ferda!

RILEY: Ferda!

GLEN: Now boys, we're talking about roosters here, not actual cocks. Don't feel bad - I too was confused at first. So, while I'm sure Riley's cock is just delightful...

JONESY: It is. He's a registered beautician, buddy.

RILEY: Thanks buddy.

GLEN: Yes. But I just want to stress again – this is the animal we're talking about here.

RILEY: Yeah, boys. Cocks.

JONESY holds up a rooster in a cage: And this is our cock:

RILEY: Four time Stanley Cup winner.

JONESY: Four time Vezina Trophy winner.

RILEY: Hockey hall-of-famer.

JONESY: Goaltender extraordinaire.

RILEY: Terry Sawcock. Ferda!

JONESY: Ferda!

DARY (aside): Kinda surprised they have a whole cock between 'em.

WAYNE: Ain't surprised they share it though, fuck.

DARY: Same way they share a set of testicles. And maybe a tongue.

GLEN: Ooh, don't tempt me Daryl.

WAYNE (turns to RILEY and JONESY): Now where in the hell did yous two nutsacks get a cock from anyways? You better not've stolen it right out from under some poor unsuspecting farmer's nose.

RILEY: We bought it down at the feed store boys.

JONESY: Heard about people keeping chickens as pets boys.

RILEY: How they're so cute and cuddly. Plus free eggs boys.

JONESY: Need plenty of protein to keep up with the gains boys.

RILEY and JONESY flex. GLEN watches avidly. WAYNE is unimpressed.

RILEY: Accidentally bought a rooster though buddy.

JONESY (sadly): Can't get eggs from a rooster buddy.

RILEY: Still a good pet though buddy.

JONESY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us buddy.

RILEY: Yeah, just really loves to cuddle with us on the sofa buddy.

WAYNE: Shouldn't keep farm animals as pets. Fuck.

DARY: Farm animals belong on a farm. S'why they're called farm animals.

WAYNE: Like. You wouldn't let a sow into you're living room. And you wouldn't let a cow into your living room. So why the fuck are you cuddling up on the couch with a cock?

JONESY: Shouldn't knock it till you've tried it.

DARY: I'll knock you.

GLEN: Boys please. Lets not fight. Not when we're all gathered here today for such a noble purpose as comparing cocks.

ALL: Fine.

GLEN: All righty now, let's see. We've got Daryl's cock: cock. We've got Wayne's cock: only nutsacks name their cocks. Riley and Jonesy's collective cock: Terry Sawcock. What do you call your cock, Noah?

NOAH: While there are a great quantity of cocks at the Dyck farm, this is our most quality.

WAYNE: Quality Dyck if you will.

GLEN: Quality Dyck it is.

DARY: Sure 'nough.

WAYNE: Like you see that cock and you say, that's Quality Dyck all right. And no mistake.

GLEN: Mhm! And I know from Quality Dyck. Now, if that's everyone, we can get on with the judging...

MCMURRY barges in: Wait! (Approaching WAYNE) Wayne. How're'you'now? Good'n'you. Ohnotsobad. Okay! (Turns to the GROUP) I, McMurry, am entering my cock in this little competition. So all you sumbitches can make a hole.

GLEN: Well someone's all riled up! You can go ahead and enter your cock right here, McMurry. No need to shout.

DARY (angry): Yeah, no need to bust our balls.

WAYNE (placating): Go have a dart.

DARY (begrudgingly): Yeah, I'll have a dart.

WAYNE and DARY exit.

FADE TO BLACK.

ESTABLISHING SHOT OF THE AGRICULTURAL FESTIVAL.

ZOOM ON TWO COCK SHAKUR PLAYING FOR A CROWD IN FRONT OF THE AG BUILDING.

PAN OVER KATY AND DAN IN THE AUDIENCE.

ZOOM ON GLEN AS HE ENTERS THE STAGE AT THE FRONT OF THE CROWD.

GLEN: How'reyounow?

AUDIENCE: Good'n'you?

GAIL: All this cock talk's got me wetter than a lighthouse keeper's slicker in a Noreaster, I can tell you that much.

DAN: Gailer!

KATY: First Glen is here judging and now Gail's here.

GAIL approaches KATY and DAN.

DAN: Yeah, Gail. I didn'ts know you were so interesteds in the agriculturals.

GAIL: Less interested in the agriculturals than in seeing some. Good. Hand. Raised. Cock. Specially when I heard Wayne's entered in the cock judging.

DAN to KATY: She knows it's nots actual cocks, rights?

KATY to GAIL: More importantly, is Modean's actually closed?

DAN: Tells me it didn't burns down agains.

KATY: This town needs a fucking bar.

GAIL: Nah, Modean's 3 is still alive and kicking sure as this old goat. But when Glen told me he'd be judging cocks at the agricultural festival I figured the whole fucking town'd be here rather than down Modean's.

DAN: Nots a bad turnsout for Letterkenny's first evers ag festival.

KATY: A great fucking turnout.

GAIL: Plus, I get a chance to see Wayne's cock today – and that's worth a day's profits right there.

KATY: Gross.

GAIL: Not that I've actually lost a day's profits. Bonny's been making the rounds at the Ag festival and apparently, business. Is. Banging.

CUT TO BONNY WEAVING HER WAY THROUGH THE CROWD WITH A TRAY OF SHOT GLASSES AND BEER BOTTLES.

KATY and DAN whistfully, along with CROWD: Bonny McMurry?

GLEN (impatient): Can I have your attention please!

PAN BACK TO GLEN.

GLEN: The event we've all been waiting for – I know I have – the cock judging. Lets meet our contestants!

GLEN gestures to the stage like a game show host: First up is Wayne!

AUDIENCE applauds.

WAYNE enters with his rooster and stands stoically, hands in belt loops.

GLEN examining the rooster: An impressive cock. Sturdy. Well built. And a real big fella. Nearly eight pounds, and pure muscle. Wayne, I think you've got a real champion cock here.

WAYNE nods stoically.

GAIL: And that's not the only cock of his I hear is impressive.

GLEN: Oooh, tell me more.

WAYNE: Glen.

GAIL: That rooster's not the only cock almost eight somethings.

MCMURRY (from backstage): Wait, is that measured over or under the balls.

GAIL: And plenty of stamina to make it through those cold Canadian winter nights. If. You. Know. What. I. Mean.

GLEN: No, please continue in explicit detail.

WAYNE: Glen!

GLEN: Ok, fine. (Gestures WAYNE to move to the rear of the stage.) Moving along, next up is Dary!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN examining the rooster: Oh, you've got a feisty one here, Dary. Plenty of personality! A little smaller than Wayne's but still an excellent cock. And those freckles are just too cute!

DARY: Aw, thanks Glen.

GLEN: And I'd happily take a look at your other cock if you want, Daryl.

DARY: Thanks for the offer Glen, but like I said, I only got the one.

GLEN: Oh never mind.

GLEN waves DARY off the stage.

DARY moves to stand next to WAYNE.

GLEN: Here's our next contestant, Noah Dyck!

AUDIENCE applauds.

GLEN: Now this is something special, y'all. An excellent example of a Canadian heritage breed, known for being an excellent layer and quite robust as well. Yes, I think we can all agree that this is certainly Quality Dyck right here.

NOAH: Thank you Preacher Glen. Such comments mean much coming from such an experienced judge of cocks as yourself.

GLEN: Oh, Noah. You'll make me blush. (GLEN rapidly ushers NOAH to stand next to DARY and WAYNE) Anywho, our next contestant is Riley and Jonesy!

AUDIENCE applauds with some confusion.

DAN: What, both of thems? Collectivelys?

KATY: It makes sense. They do everything else together.

DAN: Everythings?

GAIL: Ev. Ry. Thing.

DAN: Katy?

KATY: Can confirm.

DAN: Wow. Didn'ts needs to knows thats.

KATY: You did ask.

GAIL: It's not like we gave you a blow. By. Blow account. But if you really want to know...

GLEN: This cock's a little smaller than the ones we've seen previously. Not as much muscle – might want to exercise it a little more, boys. Just really put it through it's paces.

SHORESY: Yeah! Give your balls a tug titfuckers!

RILEY: Fuck you, Shoresy! Where's your cock, if you think you're so good!

SHORESY: Fuck you Riley! If you want to know about my cock, just ask your mom. She saw plenty of it last night. Rode me so hard reverse cowgirl style I thought she was going to snap it off.

JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

SHORESY: Don't worry, Jonesy. Your mom was there to kiss it all better.

RILEY and JONESY: Fuck you Shoresy!

GLEN: Well! All audience commentary aside, I think you've got a very shapely cock, Riley. And I think if you put in the time, worked hard and raised it properly, you could have a real champion cock on your hands.

RILEY: Thanks, boys!

JONESY: Yeah, thanks boys!

GLEN: You're welcome. Now go sit down so we can get to our next contestant!

RILEY and JONESY fistbump and move to join the others.

McMURRY pushes forward through the other contestants: Yes, I McMurry am here to have my cock judged in front of all of you. And I'm gonna win this cocksucking cock competition, just you watch.

MRS McMURRY: Knock 'em dead, baby. Love you.

McMURRY: Love you too baby.

GLEN (awkward): Well, this cock's a little on the small side...

KATY: And that's a little bit of an understatement.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: It's fucking tiny, McMurry. I've got a bigger cock hatched out an egg yesterday.

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #2: How'd you get a woman like Mrs. McMurry with a tiny cock like that?

JARED KEESO CHARACTER #1: You're a piece of shit, McMurry.

MRS McMURRY: Don't listen to him. Your cock's perfect, baby.

GLEN: Yes, well. They say it's not size that counts, but in this case – and a few others – that's just not true. Sorry, McMurry. You're out of the competition.

McMURRY: Goldangit all! (Exits STAGE mumbling profanities)

MRS McMURRY rushes after him.

GLEN: Now on to our last competitor! Modean Three's own Bonny McMurry!

AUDIENCE applauds.

DAN: I's hads no ideas she raised cocks.

KATY: I seem to remember her raising your cock pretty frequently there Dan.

DAN: I seems to remembers yous were plentys affected as well, Miss Katy.

KATY: What can I say? I like a woman with a championship cock.

GLEN: And what an excellent cock it is! A little on the slender side, but shapely! And what a lovely temperament. Outgoing without being pushy! Oh, it's just gorgeous!

WAYNE (aside to Dary): Now that's a lovely cock.

DARY: It's a beautiful cock for sure.

WAYNE: Oh it's a gorgeous cock.

GLEN: I think we have a winner folks! Let's hear it for Bonny McMurry's excellent cock!

FADE OUT TO AUDIENCE APPLAUSE AS BONNY McMURRY ACCEPTS A TROPHY.

SHOT OPENS ON THE PRODUCE STAND. WAYNE, DAN, AND DARY ARE SITTING IN THEIR USUAL SEATS WITH THEIR USUAL PUPPERS. KATYS CHAIR IS TAKEN BY WAYNE AND DARY'S ROOSTERS.

DAN: Recon Miss Katies is going to wants her seats back anytimes soons?

WAYNE: I imagine she's occupied for the evening.

DARY: Can't really blame her. I mean, who knew Bonny McMurry had such a championship cock?WAYNE: Hell, anybody'd want to go celebrate down MoDean's after a win like that. She's more than earned it, showing up all our cocks like that.

DARY: Still, there's no shame in coming second, good buddy.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE: I reckon you're right there, Dary. Andyouwannaknowwhat? Ain't no shame in coming third neither.

DAN: Especiallys nots against such stiffs competitions.

WAYNE stands and holds his hand out for DARY to shake: Congratulations Dary. That's a mighty fine cock you've got there.

DARY stands and shakes WAYNE's hand: Not as nice as yours, Wayne. Congratulations on the cock.

WAYNE and DARY sit.

WAYNE looks at where the roosters are sitting next to each other: Well, I'll give those hockey nutsacks this. They are cuddly little fuckers, aren't they?

DARY hawks a loogie in agreement.

WAYNE: Still not letting 'em in the fucking house though.

WAYNE, DARY, and DAN take a drink of PUPPERS.

CREDITS ROLL.

#letterkenny #this is essentially one long dick joke #@ jared keeso: call me

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 2)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: mature language (a given), fluff, and a (possibly) pretentious description of the rain song

words: 4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: not beta’d. this story does follow a playlist of mine, because i put too much thought into things. i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapter one

----------

Tearing down the hallway, cheeks still flaming red from the encounter with Jimmy just minutes ago, Layla nearly runs into Peter, with one John Paul Jones trailing behind him. She rushes past quickly, head down, darting into the washroom that Robert, thankfully, had the mind to point out during the tour of the facility, ignoring their worried glances and aborted questions all the while. The young woman bolts the door shut and rushes to the sink, splashing her face with the frigid water flowing from the tap.

“Shit! This can’t be happening!” She whispers, concern etched on her face at the thought of all that has happened that day. Her jumbled thoughts are soon interrupted by a knock at the door. From behind it, a familiar voice sounds.

“Layla, it’s Peter! Jonesy is here too. Can we come in?”

Silently, Layla unlocks the door, and returns to her vigil at the sink. The two men enter, giving her worried looks that go unseen. Unexpectedly, it’s Jonesy that breaks the silence that has cultivated between the trio.

“Layla, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“...”

“Well, I think what Jonesy means is that... You’ve had a stressful day, dear, and you looked anxious when you ran in here. Also, Robert walked by just a few minutes ago, smiling ear-to-ear. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Peter, he didn’t do anything wrong…” Layla sighs, debating whether she should tell them the whole truth. Remembering the key she had discovered earlier, she pulls it out, and reads the address carved onto the bronze surface. “I’m fine, it’s just… Everything that happened today, it just sunk in? I don’t want to bother you all more than I have already, but I don’t exactly have a car, and I should really be getting home.”

“Of course. I’m sorry we kept you this long, Layla. Though, before you go,” Peter says, fishing a notepad and a ballpoint pen out of his pocket, scribbling a number down onto the paper and ripping it out of the small book. “Here. This is my personal number. I’d like it if you called every so often. As much as they would hate to admit it, these boys have taken a bit of a shining to you.”

“Actually, Peter, could I drive Layla?” Jonesy cut in, smiling lightly at the woman. “There’s something I’d like to talk to her about. Only if you’re okay with that, Layla.”

“Of course, Jonesy. I’d like that.” Layla smiles at Jonesy, and the three of them exit the washroom, Jonesy leading Layla to his car parked out back. Once inside, Jonesy starts up the radio, an Elvis song crackling through on low volume. The man pulls the car out onto the street, and starts the drive over to Layla’s house. Lost in her thoughts regarding what she might find once she gets to her destination, Layla almost doesn't register Jonesy’s deep voice calling her name.

“Sorry, Jonesy, what were you going to say?”

“I know you’re not from here.”

“God, again with the accent? Fine! I’m Canadian, and after high school I moved to—”

“No,” Jonesy sighs, steeling himself for the conversation. “I mean… I know you’re not from this time. You aren’t supposed to be here. In 1975.”

“John… How…”

The man in question, sensing that this wasn’t a conversation to be had while driving, pulls over, and turns to the dazed woman beside him. Her mouth is hanging wide open, lips moving as though she was trying to form words, though nothing comes out.

“Look…”

“What the fuck?”

“I know you’re shocked, Layla. I was too, the first time I witnessed it,” Jonesy puts a gentle hand on Layla’s arm, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “I know you’re not from now, for lack of a better term, because I have seen this kind of thing before.”

“Jonesy, I don’t…”

“When I was a session man, working with plenty of different bands, I saw a lot of weird things. The weirdest, however, was when, right in the middle of a session, the band’s guitarist disappeared.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Never halting his comforting ministrations, Jonesy continues, sympathy dripping from his voice. “He was in the producer’s booth, listening to a playback while we were fooling around with our instruments. We heard a huge crash, and saw sparks, so we all rushed over to check on him.”

“Then what happened?”

“We couldn’t find him,” Jonesy sighed, eyebrows furrowing. “He was gone for about a day or two, but we were all incredibly worried, so when we heard that he was found, we rushed over to see him. The only thing he said about what had happened to him, was that he ‘figured it out’.”

“That’s all he said?”

“He did say later that he wanted to write a song about time travel,” Jonesy laughs softly, Layla joining in. “Not sure if it ever came to fruition though.”

Layla sobers up now, glancing at her companion helplessly. What if she can’t go home, to her own time? What if she can’t ‘figure it out’? Almost as though he could see the cogs turning in Layla’s brain, Jonesy moves his hand from her arm to rest on her knee, a grounding weight for the anxious woman.

“Layla, I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll get you back home. We can figure it out, just like he did. It will be okay.”

The woman in question can only nod wordlessly, struck by the devotion of her new friend. Jonesy, deeming her to be okay, starts up the car again. A couple minutes pass as Elvis is traded in for Buddy Holly, until Jonesy finally breaks the relative silence.

“So… You and Jimmy?”

“Nothing’s going on with Jimmy.”

“Right,” Jonesy laughs, shaking his head, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you didn’t look at him like he hung the stars the first time you saw him, and he certainly didn’t rush past me in the hallway earlier, face the colour of a tomato, Robert’s laugh echoing off the walls behind him.”

“How did you…What?”

“Layla, I’m very observant. Just… Be careful with him, okay? You have to go back sometime, and I know him. He’ll take it hard, and… Things happen, I know they do, but please… Just try and be careful.”

“... John Paul Jones… Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

Laughter fills the small car as they drive through streets that become increasingly familiar. The pair finally pull up to their destination, and Layla is shocked to find that she’s staring back at what looks to be her flat, from her own time. With a hug and sincere words of gratitude, Layla climbs the stairs to the front door, and pushes the key into the lock. Holding her breath, she pushes the door open. Everything is exactly the way it was the day before. The empty coffee mug by the sink remained, and the mail on the dining table hadn’t moved an inch. She rushes upstairs, to find that the turntable was still there, open, though there was no record inside. There were scorch marks on the carpet. Layla throws out a hand, pressing it to the turntable, expecting sparks once more.

Nothing happens.

----------

“Hello?”

“Is… Is this Peter Grant?”

“Layla! I was beginning to think you’d never call,” A chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, tinny through the aged receiver. “How have you been, dear? The boys have been asking about you.”

“Oh? What are they saying?”

“My Goodness, it never stops. I’m surprised they’re not right up against me listening in. It’s always ‘Peter, when is Layla coming back? Peter, Layla could get a job here, as a roadie! Peter, we need our little dove, she’s our good luck charm!’”

“Well… I can guess who the last one came from. Peter, would it be okay if I came down again today? I really did have a good time, despite the circumstances.”

“Of course, of course! You’re welcome anytime, my dear. Here, I’ll send one of the boys out to fetch you. Lord knows they need it, they’re bouncing off the walls with energy.”

Another bout of laughter crackles across the line, and Layla pictures the kind, comforting smile almost permanently etched onto Peter’s face. “Wonderful! Thanks again, Peter. I’ll see you soon!”

“Goodbye, Layla. See you soon.”

“Oh! Peter, before you hang up! I gave the clothes you lent me a wash, and I’ll return them right away!”

Silence, only for a second, seeps into the conversation, until a scoff from the older man cuts it like a knife. “My dear, keep them. Jimmy won’t miss them. In fact, I remember hearing him say to Bonzo earlier, that they ‘look better on Layla anyways.’ Well, I should let you go. We’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and it is not hard to imagine the grin on the man’s face before he hung up. Regardless of if he was telling the truth about what Jimmy had said, the young woman couldn’t help but swoon a little, shades of red dancing across her cheeks. She looks at the neatly folded pile of clothes beside her, and, pressing her nose to the fresh fabric of the sweater, she puts it on. Even with the magic of the washing machine, it still held a foreign scent; one of cigarette smoke, pine and citrus, which harmonized with the subtle smell of the detergent she had used. It was a scent that, on paper, sounded like an odd combination, yet Layla could hardly get enough of it. She had smelled it just the other day, in the studio, when Jimmy was above her, jade eyes boring into hers, curls a midnight halo framing his porcelain face.

The honking of a car horn shatters her concentration, and as she looks out to the street for the source of the disturbance, she sees the grinning face of John Bonham, who is hanging halfway out of the open window, waving frantically.

“Layla! Get in, you slowpoke!”

“God, Bonzo, you’re gonna wake up the whole country if you keep that up!”

“As if that wasn’t the goal, birdie.”

“Birdie? Seriously? My God, you guys are just asking to get hit.”

“By you? Birdie, you couldn’t even reach my face if I was sitting down.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d go for the face first,” A smile of feigned innocence, blooms on Layla’s face. “Question, Bonzo. How much do you value your kneecaps?”

“Ah!” Bonzo exclaims, laughing loud, carefree. “Smart girl, smart girl. Maybe we’ll call you whenever we have arguments.”

“Jonesy’s short enough, just call him. I reckon he could do some damage from down there.”

Peals of laughter ring through the car, just audible under the din of the music that Bonzo insisted on blaring as the newfound friends cruise to the studio. Finally arriving at their destination, the drummer sends a glance over to his companion, taking into account the sweater she is wearing. He lets out a sudden snort, and hides his laughter in his hand. Layla, noticing this odd display shoots him a concerned look.

“You okay, Bonham?”

“You know, birdie, there are other ways to become Ms. Page...”

“...Get out.”

“Layla, you realize this is my car, right?” Layla gives him a heated glare, and as though he could physically see the daggers she was aiming at him, Bonzo exits the car in a huff, mumbling about how “it was just a joke…”

Allowing herself a private smirk, Layla exits the car, hurrying to catch up with her friend, short legs working a mile a minute. Reaching the man, she slings a companionable arm around his waist, and immediately feels an arm wrap around her shoulders in response. The two friends enter the building, giggling anew.

“Layla!” A chorus of voices echoed off the marble floors of the lobby, accompanied by a stampede of approaching footsteps, and the woman in question was swiftly bombarded with a chorus of arms around her, squeezing tightly.

“Really feeling the love here, guys, but I can’t breathe…” The arms relinquish their hold immediately, and Layla is met with the ecstatic faces of her new friends.

“Nice sweater, love.” Jimmy pipes up, sharing a subtle smile with the woman.

“Jim, don’t be surprised if you never get that sweater back. She’s attached now!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think she looks stunning in it.” Gone is the bumbling, shy man from before, replaced by confidence and charm. Layla smiles, enjoying this new side of the raven-haired guitarist.

“...Anyways… Little dove, we were just about to rehearse, would you like to sit in?” Robert hooks his arm through hers, an innocent wink tossed haphazardly over his shoulder at the guitarist, who only smirks and shakes his head.

“I would love to, blondie, but enlighten me real fast,” Layla says, giggling at the golden-haired man. “What exactly are you rehearsing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, Layla,” Jimmy says, swiftly taking her other arm, uncharacteristically playful. “We have a very important tour of North America coming up, and it would be a shame if we came in unprepared, wouldn't it?”

“That’s really cool!” Layla exclaims, exhilaration clear on her face.

“We’ve got some practice shows in Belgium and the Netherlands, and then we’ll be off to the Promised Land.”

��‘The Promised Land’? You guys really need to get out more.”

This is met by raucous laughter by the band, much to the confusion of the woman.

“Oh, sweet, sweet, naive Layla…”

“Remember what I said in the car, Bonzo? About the hitting?” This is accompanied by a friendly smirk, typical of the woman.

“You have so much to learn…” Jimmy continues mischievously, green eyes glinting, earning a strong glare.

“Little dove has such attitude, she’s basically one of us,” Robert sighs dreamily, no doubt playing it up for Layla, earning a chuckle from her in response.

“Okay, now that that’s all over and done with,” Jonesy’s steely blue-gray eyes survey the group, stern as they lock onto the eyes of the band. “Let’s actually play for her. Once in a lifetime opportunity here, Layla.”

“Glad stardom hasn't gone to your head, guys. Truly the most humble group I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Laughter accompanies the group as they make their way to the studio, intent on blowing Layla’s mind.

----------

“How about a little Rain Song, boys?” Jimmy says, tuning up the acoustic guitar in his hands, as though it was delicate and precious.

“You just wanna impress Layla, don’t you, Pagey?” Jonesy smirks, teasing the guitarist. Jimmy flushes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, the shy man from before making his brief return.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy,” Jimmy shoots back, trying for nonchalance, the slight waver in his dulcet voice giving him away. “Does ‘Rain Song’ work for everyone, or are we picking something different?”

A smattering of “works for me,” sounds throughout the studio, and the boys launch right in. Soft sounds of falling rain pour out of the guitar, and Robert’s golden voice floats out like streams of sunlight. Jonesy’s piano trickles through, a mist amongst the downfall, Bonzo’s soft drum beats claps of thunder. The music picks up, becomes harder, like wind in the face of a torrential storm, and then all is still, Robert crooning all the while. Layla is mesmerized, unable to look away at the boys, seemingly glowing with the influence of the music they play. A fragile silence follows the last tinkling of raindrops, one that the occupants of the room are afraid to break.

“... So? How was it?” Bonzo is the first to speak, an apprehensive grin gracing his face.

“It was… You just…”

“Never thought we’d make you speechless, little dove.”

“Ignoring that. It was truly incredible, guys.” Layla’s face lights up in an excited smile, chestnut eyes sparkling as though reflected in a clear pool. The young woman locks eyes with Jimmy then, who sends her a shy smile her way, arresting her where she stands. Layla looks away quickly, cheeks warm.

“Jonesy, your keyboard playing was incredible! It sounded like tiny raindrops! Bonzo, your drumming was just… It was so good! It sounded like thunder, and broke through the rest of the instruments perfectly. Robert, as much as I truly hate to say this…”

“Hey!”

“You were beyond words. You owned those lyrics, and made them almost come alive. I truly felt them. Jimmy… Your guitar. It drove the whole storm, and paired with Jonesy’s little droplets... It was great. I can’t say enough about this whole performance.”

“I knew we kept her around for a reason.” Bonzo snorts, closing the distance first to hug the young woman, Jonesy following with a smile painted on his aristocratic features.

“Little dove, has anyone ever told you that you should be a music critic?”

“A few times. Now get over here, blondie. You too, Page.”

The embrace is interrupted by the click of the studio door being opened, revealing the hulking figure of the usually soft-natured Peter Grant. Taking in the scene before him, he chuckles heartily, his smile never slipping. Walking over to the group, he claps his hands together in delight.

“I’m glad you’re all getting on. Boys, that was another wonderful performance. If you perform like that on Saturday? God, we’ll rule the world!”

“We’ll need our good luck charm, though.” Jimmy gestures towards Layla, winking at her conspiratorially.

“Peter, is there any way we can bring Layla over?”

“I’m sure we can work something out, Percy. Layla, would you like to join us?”

“Well… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if I could manage, with the finances of it all. I don’t exactly have a job at the moment...” Layla says sheepishly, eyes cast downwards in embarrassment. Peter scoffs and shakes his head in response, placing his large hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

“My dear, you wouldn’t have to pay even one pence,” Pete explains, kind eyes reassuring as they gaze at the woman in front of him. “Though, if you are worried about something like that, we do always need help in the wings, if you’re interested?”

“Peter, are you sure? I couldn’t just—”

“Layla, for the love of God, just say yes?” Jonesy mutters, huffing out a laugh at the display of stubbornness in front of him.

“I mean, if you’re sure… I’d love to.”

“Wonderful! Now, we leave on Friday. We’ll pick you up at your flat, just make sure you’re packed, dear. We’re happy to have you on board.”

----------

As the calendar pinned to the wall is steadily painted in royal blue ink, Layla’s excitement grows. One more day, and she’ll be on the road, living it up. January 10th couldn't come any faster, it seemed to Layla.

The shrill ringing of the phone interrupts her musings, and as Layla hurries to answer, a smile grows on her face at the thought of the days ahead. As much as she tries to deny it, Layla felt quite fond of the boys already.

“Hey, little dove, I’m leaving right away to pick you up. I’ll explain what’s going on in the car. You don’t need to bring anything. See you in 15.”

“Robert? What—”

“Oh, and Layla?” Smugness dripping from his voice, Layla can already see the cheshire grin the man is sporting, “Wear something nice.”

“Robert—”

Click.

Shock freezing her in place, Layla shakes her head, a featherlight smile gracing her lips. Flying up the stairs to her bedroom, Layla picks out a pair of merlot bell bottoms, paired with a cropped bell-sleeved shirt, a snowy white in colour. Rings scattered across her hands, Layla looks in the mirror, applying some light makeup. Seeing a car pull up to her house, a sleek, rich red against the stormy gray of the curb, she rushed downstairs, waving at the driver. Stepping into the vehicle, she turns to her friend, who smirks, looking her up and down.

“I said to dress nice… This is gonna kill the man.” Robert scoffs, mutters under his breath, tugging playfully on a perfect brown ringlet of Layla’s hair.

“Robert, what’s going on? Why couldn't you explain over the phone?”

“Well, I couldn’t let a certain someone overhear my master plan, could I?” This is met with a blank look from the passenger of the vehicle, and, glancing over quickly, Robert cackles.

“Listen up, little dove,” Robert says, whispering mischievously, starting up the car and pulling away from the flat, “It’s Jimmy’s birthday, and the lot of us were planning something. It would be a shame if we didn’t get his favourite girl in on the secret too!”

“Favourite girl?”

“Oh come on, Layla. Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious!” Robert scoffs, lazily throwing his head to the side to look at his companion, golden locks flying every which way, “The man can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s a whole subject of conversation when you’re not around. I can tell by the colour of your cheeks that you might feel the same…”

“If I say yes, will you drop it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Should have known… Anyways, what’s the plan here?” Robert winks at her in response, ocean eyes glinting in the warm afternoon sun.

“So, you know quite a bit about guitars, hey?”

“A fair amount? I used to play. What does that have to do with Jimmy’s birthday, though?”

“Well,” Robert starts, grin growing at the confusion of his friend, “We’re gonna throw a little get-together at the studio, but I was thinking, his favourite acoustic keeps breaking, and he hasn’t had much time to fix it yet. This is where you come in, little dove.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense here, blondie.”

“You’re gonna pick out a new acoustic for him.”

“Robert, I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about the costs,” Robert exclaims, shaking his head vehemently, “I got it all covered. Perks of being in a famous band, I guess. Jim’s not the best at words, you’ve experienced this firsthand. He speaks with his music, and by doing this, you’re speaking his language.”

“I get that, but what… What if he doesn’t like the guitar I pick out?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Robert laughs out, stealing a glance at his fidgeting companion. “Little dove, you could give him a trash bag and he’d still cherish it. He’ll love whatever you pick out for him.”

Robert parks the car, and turns towards his friend, taking a small hand in his, a comforting smile on his tan face. Giving the hand a squeeze, Layla steps out of the car, and, arm in arm with Robert, they walk into the store.

Strolling through the aisles, Layla was struck at the sheer beauty of the instruments in front of her. Shades of sepia and seafoam green blend into starry blues as she walks on. A body of rich mahogany catches Layla’s eye then, and she knows immediately. This is the one. The pickguard is a deep maroon with swirls of midnight black, thin rings of pristine white surrounding the sound hole. It’s perfect. Layla can’t help but stare, until she feels a tap on her shoulder, accompanied by a light peal of laughter.

“I take it, that's the one, Layla?”

Turning around, caught, Layla’s cheeks warm, and, smiling ever-so-slightly, she nods. Turning to the guitar once more, she trails her fingers across the smooth polished wood of the guitar.

“It’s perfect…”

“He’s gonna love it, just you wait.”

Layla plucks it from it’s resting spot on the wall, and, cradling it with the care of a new mother, she walks with Robert to the front of the store to pay. After a couple of autographs, and a few weird looks, the pair return to the car, finally setting their sights on the studio. Guitar case resting safely in her lap, Layla allows herself a private smile, picturing the face of the guitarist, emerald eyes filled with elation, upon seeing the gift.

“Why are your cheeks so red, little dove? Are you feeling okay?”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis (let me know if you want to be added!)

#led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #classic rock fanfic #only the black rose

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kazoo5480 · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Mature Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Emma ends the call, and grabs her purse, bounding down the steps of her flat. She is going to meet some friends at the bar down the street, so she decides to walk there, no reason to drive two blocks and risk a DUI. Entering the bar, its an old relic of a place left over from the prohibition era. She loves it, the bartenders are awesome, they have an amazing selection of beer, the lighting low, the walls covered in beer labels from beers all over the globe, it’s her home away from home. She waves at the bartender as she enters, Jeff sliding her usual shot of whiskey and a beer across to her as she sidles up to the counter.

She hands over her card to open a tab and looks around spotting her best friends in the corner near the dartboards. Belle smiles and waves, while Ruby is playing against two guys she hasn’t seen around before. Setting her phone on the table and her purse over her chair, she listens in on the conversation Mary Margaret and Belle are having, and when Ruby notices her arrival, she waves and calls her over. Ruby introduces Emma to the two men, Graham and Will. They seem nice enough and invite her to join them deciding to partner off, one girl one guy vs the others.

Emma is fantastic at darts, and she beats them swiftly in the first few minutes, while Ruby keeps score on the chalkboard. Finishing her beer Emma heads to the bathroom down the narrow, dim corridor and finds the room occupied. Leaning up against the wall outside it to wait, she notices a guy waiting in line also, the sink between them. She always thought it was so odd that the sink is right there in the hallway, so you had to talk to people as they waited in line for the one lady’s room or the one men’s room, but the bathroom stalls were miniscule at best, no room for sinks in them.

She sees that the guy has a mop of dark hair, black leather jacket, and a fairly hot profile, but he doesn’t look her way. The door to the ladies’ room opens and she heads in and out quickly and starts washing her hands. She looks down at her phone not paying attention as she walks back towards the bar and collides with a solid form. “Easy there lass” says an accented voice. Looking up, its leather jacket guy, and holy shit he is even better with a direct view of his face. His eyes are incredibly blue, and he smirks at her. She feels her panties literally soak.

“Sorry, wasn’t looking where I was going”, and he tsked her “as I can see. Watch where you’re going, someone could hit you with the door love” and he winked. Emma’s panties grew even wetter from that wink. Nope, nope, nope Emma, just get your beer and go back to your table she chastised herself internally and smiled at the guy. “Thanks” and kept walking, Jeff sliding her another round. Guys like that were her kryptonite, add an accent on there, and Jesus Christ. That was dangerous territory. Shaking it off, she asks for a beer for Ruby too, knocking back her shot waiting while Jeff poured it from the tap.

“Interesting choice of drink there” and she turns to face him, again. “Following me?” she asks wryly and, and he grins, “Nope, just needed a beer myself.” She thanks Jeff, and grabs her beers heading back to the table. Ruby wrangled Belle into joining her darts tournament, and their table is right near the door to the smoking patio. She sees leather jacket guy head out, and Will steps out with him. The smell of smoke wafts through the screen door and Ruby and Graham pause the game to head out too. Emma looks at M, wanna throw a few while they’re occupied? And M smiled at her, “Sure, but I have nothing by my drinking money so no bets tonight” and Emma smiled, handing her a set.

Ruby comes in first, and sees Emma got her a beer, thanking her, she begins pulling up another empty table to theirs while Emma and MM play their set out. The guys come in a few minutes later heading to the bar. Ruby likes them, they’re cute, and their accents even better, not bad company for the night. MM is taken, but the rest of them are unattached, and the newcomer Killian mentioned a pretty blonde lass who she would bet good money on was Emma.

Emma and MM sit, Belle joining them with two baskets of peanuts, and they all start talking and laughing, and Emma notices the extra table. Looking to Ruby “expecting company?” and the chair scrapes across the floor, leather jacket guy settling down in it, while Will and Graham sit on the opposite side in the bench seat. She looks at Ruby who smirks, and Emma rolls her eyes. She looks over, feeling his stare on the side of her face, “Now you’re definitely following me” and he just smirks.

Will speaks up “Emma, Killian, Killian, Emma- also known as the pretty blonde lass you were referring to,” and Killian glared at his friend. Emma laughed, “So you are following me?” he swallowed, his Adams Apple bobbing, god he was so hot. “Purely coincidental love, and I do have eyes Emma. You are a pretty blonde lass; I just didn’t know your name when I described you is all” and she looked at Ruby. Ruby smirked, and turned to chat up Graham, and Will already engrossed in a conversation with Belle. Not wanting to leave MM out, Emma tries to engage her friend in conversation, but MM is looking at her phone. “Hey guys, Dave just got off work, I am going over, see you later” she said in a sing song voice and they all nodded at her. Emma gulped her beer, that just left the dangerously hot Killian next to her to converse with.

“Do you like pinball Emma?” and she looks at him, “Sure” she says smiling and he nods, reaching into his pocket pulling out a few quarters. “I see Golden Tee, wanna play?” and she nods following him to the opposite corner of the bar. “It was getting a bit suffocating over there, and with your friend’s departure, I figured you might like to stretch your legs” and she smiles at him. “I’ll go first, what are we betting?” she asked. He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb thinking it over “If you win, I’ll pay your tab” she smiled at that, “and if you win…” she questioned “I get your phone number.” She swallowed “deal.”

They agreed to three rounds, and she lost the first round, but beat him in the second. This round they were tied, and Killian released the lever, the lights began going off. “I’ll take your number now” and he smirked at her. Right as she was about to respond “Last call” was announced and the lights flickered. She smirked, “Maybe next time” and she spun around to go get her purse noticing Ruby, Graham, and Will standing outside smoking by Belle. “Last call, I’m heading home, and she waved” Ruby hugging her, “take him home with you Em” She rolled her eyes, “See you tomorrow” and waved at them.

She looked around but Killian had vanished apparently, she waved to Jeff, paying her tab, and headed out the door to the sidewalk. “You didn’t think I’d let you slip away that easily; did you love?” and she smiled and turned around. Killian was leaning against the front of the bar against the brick wall smoking a cigarette, playing with his lighter. She knew she was playing with fire, but she walked up to him slid her hands into that inky hair, and kissed him deeply, her tongue stroking his. His hands gripped her hips, and she leaned back catching him off guard by breaking the kiss. “Maybe next time” she purred, and she turned around walking down the street.

Killian sat there dazed. “Jesus Christ” he said looking after her, watching her blonde hair illuminated by the streetlamps, and saw her turn the corner. Whoever Emma was, she just rocked his entire world. The others came out, and Ruby gave him a look, “She is here quite often after 6” and he said nothing but nodded. Will and Graham razzed him the whole ride home about Emma, both had gotten the girls numbers, and were prattling on about them. “How did you make out with the lovely Emma?” Graham asked him, he shrugged, the irony of Grahams words not lost on him. “We played pinball, we didn’t really talk a whole lot” and Graham nodded. “You like her, don’t you?” and Killian didn’t respond, and Will hit him in the chest. “Jonesy, you like her a lot!” “Shove off, I hardly know anything about her, she is easy on the eyes though” and that’s all he gave them.

Emma got home, fire singing through her veins, and she was more awake than tired after a night of drinking. She opened her windows letting the night breeze into her flat laying on the couch listening to the other people walking home from the bars out her window, cars driving off, then the streets grew quiet. She ran her fingers over her lips, Killian was a dangerous man, but god he was so hot. She was smart in not giving him her number, leaving it to fate if their paths crossed again.

Emma was at work early, hardly getting any sleep at all. She worked in physical therapy, and the pay was pretty good, plus Belle was one of the receptionists so it was nice to work with her friend. Since she was two hours early, she decided to run on the treadmill before work. Belle came in at 7, surprised to see Emma there so early, running on a treadmill. Setting her stuff down, she walked towards Emma and stood in front of her friend. “Alright, out with it Swan” the brunette said to her. Emma slowed her pace and finished her run. “Jesus Belle you scared me” and she hit stop on the treadmill and began to stretch.

Belle sat on a chair next to her, “Wanna talk about it?” and Emma looked at her friend. “nope”, “Oh come on Emma, he seemed nice, he was very handsome” and Emma looked at her. “He looks like walking sex Belle, sheet clawing, mind blowing sex, and that is dangerous” was all she said continuing to stretch. Emma sat up, swigging her water, switching the subject “Will seemed nice” and Belles eyes lit up. “He is, really nice. I gave him my number. He texted me this morning asking me out this weekend” and Emma whistled. “Good man noticed what a treasure you are” and Belle laughed.

The Physical Therapist Dr. Hopper walked in waving good morning to them, and Emma ran to the break room to shower and change really quick, their first patient arriving in half an hour. Belle would try to figure out some details on Killian, just for her peace of mind. Emma had been in a really long relationship and was still pretty new to being single, she wasn’t a prude, but if Killian made Emma nervous, that meant she liked him, and that was a huge deal. Emma didn’t like anyone, ever. Random set ups, meet cutes, all failed, Emma not wanting to commit herself again. But something about this Killian sparked her interest, so Belle would just have to wait and see.

Killian woke up and laid in his bed staring at his ceiling. He kept seeing those sparkling green eyes, and that long blonde hair, her pink full lips, the smooth glide of her tongue against his, and he could practically smell her perfume, something like vanilla or lilac. He tossed and turned all night, his cock twitching. He could probably snag her number through one of her friends, but where would the fun in that be? She obviously was leaving it up to fate to decide if they were to meet again, and he would just make it easier by haunting that little dive bar at random times after 6. He got up and showered, throwing his uniform on, and headed out to work, trying to keep his mind on the cars he was repairing so he didn’t fuck up an engine.

Emma bounded out of work, a long day and while she would usually hit the bar up for a beer, she decided against it. Stopping at the corner market she grabbed a bottle of wine and headed home, deciding she would paint on her screened porch to keep herself occupied and her thoughts off Mr. Dark and Dangerous. She was grateful Belle didn’t push the issue, and Ruby had been quiet too today, no texts, no calls, no graphic GIF’s, or memes. Emma pushed it out of her head, and just popped the cork, and began drawing.

Belle walked into the bar, Ruby sitting at the counter talking to one of the bartenders. “Thanks for meeting me” she said sitting down. “So?” Belle asked, and Ruby smirked “Jones is his last name, works as a mechanic over at a body shop off Canon, drives a 67 GTO, has a brother in the Navy, unattached.” Belle nodded, “you sure work fast” and Ruby grinned. “I might have had Graham for lunch today” and her smile widened. Belle rolled her eyes, “Ruby, you just met him” she chastised her, and Ruby shrugged. “It was fun, I like him, it’s not serious” and Belle nodded, telling her about Will. They both agreed they would just nudge fate a little, there was too much hotness going to waste if they left them up to their own devices, Ruby and Belle each texting their new paramours’ vague plans for Saturday to get them all together again.

Killian walked into a pub near his flat meeting Graham and Will for a beer. He walked in and the two were already having a conversation, grabbing his own beer he flopped down in his chair at the table and the other two eyed him. “You look like shit, long day Jonesy?” Will asked him and he nodded. “Long day indeed” was all he said. “Well Graham here had little red riding hood for lunch today” and Graham whacked Will across the back of his head. “Oi, what was that for you wanker?” and Graham shook his head, “I didn’t have her for lunch, god you make it sound so crass. I like her, she called, and I saw her” Will looked at him “Is that what you call it? You ate her for lunch” and grinned.

“You’re an idiot” Graham said, and Killian laughed. “As long as the lass is willing, nothing wrong with that Humbert.” Graham just shook his head, “you both suck. How about you Will?” Will’s cheeks reddened, “I have a date with her Friday, taking her to dinner” and Killian whistled. “Good man, she seems like a nice lass” and Will nodded. Graham eyed Killian, “And you Jonesy?” “Me what?” he said. “Where will you be Saturday?” Graham asked. “No plans yet, why?” and Graham was quiet, “no reason, you guys want to plan to hang?” and they all agreed.

Will went to the bathroom, and Graham asked, “I was just curious is all if you had gotten Emma’s number” and he shook his head. “Nope, fraid not.” “Do you want me to get it for you?” Killian shook his head, “I am sure I will see her again sometime.” Graham felt his phone vibrate and looked at the very revealing photo Ruby had just sent him. “Um, we gotta go” and Killian laughed. “I’ll drop Will off, have fun” and Graham looked like his ass was on fire as he booked it out of there to his car. “Where’s Humbert?” Will asked puzzled, “Red Riding Hood called” and Will laughed. “She must crack a mean whip!” and Killian nodded, headed toward Eastown.

Emma groaned, why was she still thinking about Killian? She sighed and finally drifted off to sleep, tossing all night until she woke up. Her clit was throbbing and her skin sweaty. Fuck, she whispered. Breathing in and out, she tried to will her body to calm down, but those eyes, and that tongue was haunting her fucking dreams. She slid her hand between her legs, her clit swollen, and drenched. She was so close, it was almost ridiculous how close she was to coming, she slowly rubbed her wetness over her folds, and used her other hand to roll her nipples. She was so close, and she slid two fingers inside herself, plunging them in and out, imagining that voice in her ear begging her to come all over his hand, and she shattered, crying out in her room calling out his name. When she came back down, she fell back asleep, completely sated by the idea of a person she knew nothing about.

Killian let the hot water run over his shoulders, he couldn’t stop picturing her. Her soft skin, her smell, god that smile she gave him. It was fucking dazzling, and he did not get dazzled by women. He usually snuck out of their beds before they woke up, he didn’t go home and jerk off thinking about them, letting them consume his entire train of thought. But there he was, cock hard in his hand and picturing her perfect pink lips wrapped around him. He pictured her tanned freckled skin, and full breasts that were probably tipped in the loveliest shade of pink, he fisted himself harder, imagining her taking him into her throat, deeply and he sped up, moaning as hot jets of cum hit the tile, dripping down it and pictured it going down her throat. Bracing himself, he needed to get it together. He crawled into bed, worn out and drifted off to sleep.

Emma woke up and got in the shower and went about her day trying to distract herself. She stopped at the farmers market in Eastown, picking up fresh flowers, and a new candle. She wandered in and out of the shops, and sat on a bench, sketchpad in hand and people watched. Her phone buzzed, “Bar Saturday?” Ruby and Belles group text. “OK” she said and put it back down sipping at her cocoa and packed her stuff into her bag. Her watch showed it was 4, and she was just packing up and walking back to her car and she noticed a really gorgeous Red GTO parked behind her bug. She reached into her bag and looked down trying to find her keys in what she called the pit of despair of her bag, when someone collided with her knocking her cocoa down her white tank top soaking her.

“What the fuck man?” she said looking at her shirt which was soaked. Killian stilled “Emma?” She lifted her eyes and met Killian’s blue ones, the ones that had been haunting her day and night. “Oh shit, Hi Killian, sorry” He just stared for a minute, her shirt was thin, and he could see her bra through it now. A very lacy white bra. He swallowed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, obviously. Do you want to come up, borrow a tee shirt? She looked at him, “You live here?” “Aye, second floor. What are you doing down here love?”

“Farmer’s market, I was sketching- and apparently fated to have cocoa spilled all over me” she said smiling. He smiled back, “let me just grab something out of my car, and I’ll take you up and get you cleaned up.” She swallowed, and her eyes widened as he unlocked the GTO and grabbed a bag out of it, locking it again before he closed the door. “She is beautiful” she motioned to the car, and Killian looked at her. “You like cars?” She nodded. “Well, aren’t you just quite the surprise?” he said and turned to unlock his building and held the door for her. His heart was pounding, he led her up the stairs with a hand on her lower back directing her toward his loft. He opened his door and led her inside, her eyes widened. “Wow, this is amazing” and he nodded, “used to be a meat processing plant back at turn of the century, Will lives in the next building over” and she just looked around.

“Come on, let me get you a clean shirt, I can wash yours if you like, try to get that out for you” he smiled at her and she just nodded. Red Alert, Abort Abort Abort Emma “Sure, that would be nice” she smiled at him. “Guess fate had other plans today, huh?” and she swallowed. “I guess so” and she followed him through the doorway, big arched windows and a great view of the market. His room was tidy, very tidy. A hamper neatly tucked in the corner and he handed her a soft white tee shirt with a soft smile. “I am really sorry Emma” and she couldn’t handle it anymore. Swallowing she looked up at him, “Guess you were right about fate” and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Was he reading her right? Her pupils dilated, the light green sparkling in the sunlight. He stepped toward her, her hand still holding onto the shirt he was handing her. “Emma?” “Fuck it” she said, and grabbed his shirt pulling him to her. He moaned, and tangled his fingers in her blonde curls, tilting her head just where he wanted, and sucked over her pulse point on her neck, just below her ear. Emma moaned, and his cock hardened painfully. Leaning back, he lifted the bottom of her tank up and over her head. White lace covered her perfect tits, he was knocked speechless, and Emma was stepping toward him and he gripped her hips, walking her back toward his bed and he pushed her down and back gently.

Hovering over her, he reached back to pull his shirt over his head and off, not caring where it landed. “In a rush?” she asked, her chest heaving, and her pupils blown wide. “You’ve been haunting me for days Emma” and he kissed his way down her neck and pulled the lace cups down under her breasts, pushing them upward. “I was right” “about what?” she moaned as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. “I imagined your nipples would be the loveliest shade of pink, and I love being right” he nuzzled it while plucking at the other one, and switched sides. Emma was lost, all coherent thoughts gone. “Killian” and he leaned over her, licking deeply into her mouth. “Please tell me you want me just as much as I want you” and she nodded breathless.

He stepped back and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing his jeans and boxers to the ground. Emma’s eyes widened; he had the biggest cock she had ever seen. She leaned up, unhooking her bra and stood to unbutton her jeans, slowly sliding them down, leaving only her white lace thong in place. He looked like he was going to eat her alive, predatory and so fucking hot. She bent forward giving him a view of her ass as she pulled her pants down and off. He picked her up, her legs going around his waist and he sucked and rubbed her nipples and dropped her on his bed, her golden hair fanning out. Emma looked at his cock, seeing the precum at the tip, and she licked her lips wanting to taste him. She looked up at him and he was looking at her in total awe.

She leaned up, pushing him gently onto his back and knelt between his legs, stroking him with her hand, and her other hand caressing his balls. He moaned loudly, she liked that. She leaned down and licked his slit, tasting him, “Emma fuck, please love” and she tightened her grip taking him into her mouth. His skin tasted salty, and he smelled so good, she moaned, and the vibration made his whole-body jerk. His fingers wove into her hair, pushing it to one side and over her shoulder. She let him slip out of her mouth with a wet plop, “You want to watch me suck your cock Killian?” He leaned up on his elbow and she slowly took him back into her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on his. His tongue swiped along his lower lip and she took him to the back of her throat and his eyes rolled back and he hit the bed. She kept going, taking him to the edge and withholding his orgasm, drawing it out. “Please love, Emma” he cried out, he was wrecked as he called out for her, and she took him deep, humming and he went off like a geyser, his cum hitting her throat and she swallowed it all, licking him clean.

Chest heaving, he opened his eyes. Holy fuck, he leaned up on his elbows looking at her. “Are you…” and he yanked her to him rolling atop her. He licked at her lips, seeking entrance to her mouth. His hands were everywhere, his fingers pulling and tugging on her nipples, sucking on them, deep pulls, and light grazes of his teeth. Her fingers went into his hair, her nails scratching his scalped as she arched her back. He released her and began kissing down her stomach, nosing at the scrap of lace covering her from his sight. Leaning back on his heels, he hooked his fingers and pulled it down her legs and spread her thighs. “Gods you’re bloody gorgeous” and he saw her wetness coating her, her pretty pink cunt swollen, and he had to have her.

He leaned in breathing her in, her sweet scent calling to his blood like a siren. He placed a soft kiss over her mound and used the tip of his tongues to tease her clit. She bucked and cried out, and he splayed his large hand over her stomach holding her still. “You taste amazing Emma” and he flattened his tongue licking her up and down, she felt like she was burning from the inside out. She released his hair and fisted his comforter. He moaned as her arousal washed down his throat, he inserted two fingers into her, and she cried out his name, her legs shaking against him. “Gods you’re so tight, so fucking hot love” and kept licking at her. He could feel her walls clamping down on him, and he kept going, curling his fingers just slightly to rub that hidden spot, and Emma saw stars and screamed his name. He lapped lightly at her, swallowing the gush of arousal, rubbing her through her orgasm and brought her down gently.

Her chest heaving, her perfect tits jiggling with each panted breath. He eased his fingers out of her licking them clean and leaned over her to grab a condom out of his nightstand. He leaned back and rolled it on. “Emma open your eyes love” and she opened them, the green a dark shade and he loomed over her rubbing his cock against her folds. “Tell me you want me Emma, I am dying to have you love” and she responded by yanking him down by the neck to her mouth, tasting each other on her tongue. It was so hot. “Yes, Killian, I want you to fuck me” and he groaned, pushing slowly into her.

Emma groaned at the stretch, he was easily the largest guy she had ever been with, and he was gentle easing into her. His eyes snapped shut at the tightness of her cunt, pulling him deeper into her. They were both trembling, and he pushed in as far as he could, holding back to let her to adjust to him. She bit her bottom lip, and he slid a hand under her ass lifting her just enough to slide all the way in. She moaned as he hit the bottom of her, feeling completely overwhelmed by the sensation of her tight cunt around him, the heat of her walls scorching him through the rubber. “Killian, I need you, I need you to move” and he did. Dragging himself slowly in and out of her, until she sighed and relaxed into him, and he began to move faster.

Emma locked her ankles around him, her heels digging into his ass pushing him so deep it almost hurt. She held on to him as he fucked her so hard that she felt another orgasm brewing hard. “Killian” she cried, and he slowed, “are you ok?” leaning onto his forearm, he brushed her sweaty curls off her forehead, and she nodded, “I don’t want to come without you” she smiled breathless, and he kissed her. “I’m right here with you Emma” and he continued at his pace, pushing them both higher and higher, his arms trembling and her legs shaking. She arched slightly and the movement had him rubbing over that spot deep inside her. He could feel the ridge every time the tip of his cock grazed it, she moaned louder, and he kept going. His orgasm was building at the base of his spine, he felt it coming and he began pumping harder into her, her walls clamping down around him and he saw stars as his orgasm tackled him from behind and hers sending her screaming over the edge.

They lay there sweaty and still joined. Killian laid his head on her chest listening to her heart pounding below and caught his breath. He leaned back pulling out of her slowly and she winced slightly, but mostly at the loss of how he felt inside her. He felt like his entire world just flipped on its axis and he looked over at her lying beside him. He leaned up on his elbow, tucking her curls behind her ear, and she blushed slightly. “That was, I don’t even know what that was” she said and giggled. He smiled, “you’re perfect, Emma. Everything I dreamt you would be and so much more love” and she shut her eyes, her long black lashes fanning out against her flushed cheeks.

“Please don’t tell me this was a one-time thing Emma” he said as he kissed her shoulder and she opened her eyes, “I am pretty sure fate wouldn’t have let this happen if it wasn’t meant to be”. He nodded locking his eyes on hers. “Emma, what’s your last name?” “Swan” she said, and he smiled. “Emma Swan, the most beautiful lass I have ever seen, and the best sex I have ever had in my life” and she giggled. “What is your name?” “Killian Jones” and she smiled. She held her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you Jones” and he smirked, burying his face in her neck and tucking her against him, of course she fit perfectly against him. “Oh Swan, I don’t think I am ever going to let you go now” he murmured, and she smiled looking over at him “Good.”

Ruby and Belle tried calling Emma a few times, unable to get her on the phone. They were starting to get worried; she hadn’t picked up her phone or answered a text for a whole day. She had called into work early and left a message on the machine Belle said, worried that she was sick, so Ruby went by her apartment with her spare key to check on her in case she needed anything. Ruby called Belle to say her car wasn’t there and she wasn’t home, her bed made and nothing out of place. “Where is she?” they sat on Emma’s couch and thought, “do you think she is ok?” Ruby asked worried, and Belles’s phone vibrated, it was Will calling.

“One Sec Ruby, let me take this. Hey Will, what? Emma? A yellow bug, why? Ohhhh” and she began slapping Ruby’s arm excitedly. “Ouch what! That hurts” Ruby whined slapping her back. “Will- I will call you back!” “What?” Ruby asked her. “Will said a yellow bug has been parked behind Killian’s car in Eastown for the last two days, and he has heard nothing but moaning and screaming from Killian’s front door for two days, the neighbors have been complaining through the whole building. Ruby covered her mouth and started laughing hysterically. Fate is funny like that.

@teamhook @holdingoutforapiratehero @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4@lassluna @pirateherokillian @xhookswenchxstahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @grimmswan @spartanguard @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @carpedzem @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @scientificapricot @cocohook38 @badwolfreturns @onceratheart18 @justanother-unluckysoul @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @revanmeetra87 @superchocovian @nikkiemms @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @lassluna @swanslieutenant @bethacaciakay @jrob64 @sals86 @veryverynotgoodwrites @karlyfr13s @beckettj @chasedancer17 @lonelyspectator12 @gingerpoliglot @tomeandflickcorner @hookedonaswan @scribomaniac @optimisticgirl @thesschesthair @laschatzi @purplehawkcaptain

#emma swan #killian jones #once upon a time #captain swan

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cultofbeatles · 5 years

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beginners guide to the members of led zeppelin (kind of)

a disclaimer before anyone starts reading: we all know led zeppelin is shady as hell and we hardly ever get anything confirmed or denied around here. so some stuff is up for speculation. everything in this post are things i've read in books, heard in interviews, or got from some other source. when it comes to “facts about led zeppelin” sometimes you gotta take it with a grain of salt. but honestly it’s led zeppelin we’re talking about, anything is possible. also this is all in good fun and giggles. with that being said, let’s get started with introductions to the members themselves.

jimmy page

james patrick page

born on January 9, 1944

he’s a capricorn sun, cancer moon, and scorpio rising so you just know he’s a crazy motherfucker

was an amazing session guitarist and basically everyone wanted him

went to art school bc he’s just talented at everything i guess

if you didn't know already he played the guitar for Joe cocker’s ‘with a little help from my friends’

declined his first offer to join the yardbirds but later decided to join

was the last member to leave the group

basically was the leader of led zeppelin

was gifted a telecaster guitar by his friend jeff beck and he adored it

and he painted a cool dragon design on it

played on it for the first led zeppelin album

when he was on tour one of his friends painted over his dragon design and ruined the guitar

he produced all of led zeppelin’s albums and is responsible for the remastering of those same albums

paid for led zeppelin’s first album to be produced with his own money

deadass would have whips and handcuffs around with him on tour for the groupies

but was apparently an amazing lover and cared for the people he slept with

one time he got naked on a food cart thingy, put whip cream over his body, and had john bonham push him into a room with groupies in it

has such a small and soft voice

was fascinated in aleister crowley and his work

would collect crowely memorabilia

even bought crowley’s boleskine house

had a bookstore at one point so he could get books easier

struggled with addiction to drugs for most of the seventies

went on a liquid diet late seventies and refused to eat solid food

he got really skinny bc of it :(

miss pamela (one of his girlfriends/lovers) once said that jimmy cried on the phone to her over her playboy photoshoot lmaoo

once flied pamela’s pet raccoon in first class

allegedly had a relationship with lori maddox who was about 15 years old

laughed as two of his girlfriends were fighting each other

was kind of constantly nervous about his and the band’s image

has amazing guitar solos and improvisation but damn sometimes they drag on foreverrrr

deadass scared the shit out of david bowie so much that he had his house exorcised and would avoid jimmy at parties

we love demons

zoso

he’ll never tell us what zoso means and I'm mad

had two people die in his home. one was a friend who died from a drug overdose, and the other was john bonham when he died from choking on his vomit.

has been accused for the deaths of john bonham and robert plant’s son karac bc of that stupid “curse” rumor

deserves critiques for several things but doesn't deserve hate for that

has been through a lot and come out pretty okay

produced his current girlfriend’s, scarlett sabet, spoken poetry vinyl

check out scarlett’s work bc it’s amazing

would probably always be down for another led zeppelin reunion

robert plant

robert anthony plant

born on august 20, 1948

this is the most attractive man ever. do not argue with me.

nicknamed percy

wasnt jimmy’s first pick for a singer

jerry reid suggested robert to jimmy. and when jimmy asked what he looked like jerry said, “like a greek god.”

jimmy thought something was wrong with robert when he first found him bc he was such a good singer and hadn't been signed yet

after a practice together jimmy knew he had his singer

he would call robert “the young guy with the powerful voice.”

he thought about leaving the band early on bc he was so nervous about being in it

convinced john bonham to join the group bc they were the bestest of buddies

he’s not credited on the first album bc he was still under another contract

started song writing for the second album by jimmy’s memory

it didn't take long for him to gain confidence and start owning the stage

once when he was performing a dove flew in his hands

there’s an audio of him singing john bonham happy birthday and it makes me so happy

he would call himself a greek god

would party with john bonham a lot

kind of the hippy of the group

moans moans moans and even louder moans into the microphone

would wear women’s shirts and looked amazing in them

nurses do it better

not to mention his super tight jeans

we all know his dick is huge and he’s just showing it off

has the prettiest, fluffiest blonde hair

and the sweetest smile

can you tell that i find him attractive yet?

has a fear of earthquakes

also supposedly had some sort of a relationship to an underage groupie named sable starr (14)

also has a fear of led zeppelin nowadays

either fear or amnesia

it’s likely that he’s the reason we’ll never get another led zeppelin reunion

though a close friend thinks that if the show went to charity robert would probably do it

robert loved john bonham too much to play in led zeppelin without him

and i respect that a lot

no matter how much he’s offered for a show he turns it down every time

in 1975 he got in a severe car crash and ended up being in a wheelchair

still went on to record zeppelin’s album

once while recording on crutches and started to fall and jimmy apparently zoomed in to save him. robert never saw him move that fast before

his five year old son (karac) died from a sudden stomach illness while he was in america on tour

absolutely crushed him

was deeply upset that neither jimmy page or john paul jones reached out to him during that time of his life

john bonham was there for him though

robert apparently never forgave them for that

a car he was working on fell on top of him and crushed some of his ribs as well

late seventies was not a good time for robert plant

but he got through it all like a champ

hates stairway to heaven with a passion lmao

one time he paid a radio station a shit ton of money just to make sure they'd never play stairway to heaven again

almost didn't sing stairway for the 2007 reunion but ended up agreeing to it after all

he said he breaks out in hives when he has to play that song

he and jimmy made their own symbols. robert’s is the feather inside the circle

in 2007 he won beard of the year

john bonham

born on may 31, 1948

nickname is bonzo

oh boy, there’s a lot of stories about bonzo

he was known as the nicest and sweetest guy ever

unless he was drunk

he drank a lot :/

denied jimmy’s offer to join the group and continued to deny it until robert convinced him

once flew the starship (led zeppelin’s plane) even though he didn't have a license to

hated touring so much

he always missed his family

so he drank

he was so damn crazy when drunk that the other members would book rooms floors above where his was so he wouldn't disturb them

tore about his hotel rooms like no other

he has a son named jason bonham who he loved a lot

bought him a nice drum kit when he was younger

jason is just about led zeppelin’s biggest fan next to jimmy page

one time bonzo broke a girl’s vibrator when drunk

also punched a girl in the face when drunk once bc she waved at him

partly responsible for the famous mud shark story where a girl was apparently fucked with a dead shark by him and zeppelin’s tour manager

liked cars a lot

really really loved his family. cannot stress it enough

was irked that john paul jones got out of playing shows during the christmas holiday and he didn't

punched robert in the face once too

him and john paul jones equals the best rhythm section ever

jimmy would call it magic how well him and bonzo got along

bonzo could handle anything jimmy threw at him

he wasn't really a part of it, but he had to go to jail bc peter grant and two other dudes almost killing a man (long story omfg, but apparently the doctors had to put the dude’s eyeball back into his socket)

was there for robert when karac died

they were really good friends

there’s an interview with them together where bonzo is laughing at robert about his little farm

gave good hugs apparently

played drums like no other could and knew he was good

but still sometimes got insecure and got upset when someone he looked up to said his drumming wasn't all that special

his symbol is the three rings and he picked it out of a book like john paul jones did his

he died in jimmy page’s house (not the crowley house btw)

he had to drink the equivalent of 40 shots of vodka and choked on his vomit in his sleep

led zeppelin died on the same day

nobody can replace john bonham

his son filled in his role for the 2007 reunion show and did an amazing job of it. the whole show is on youtube, go check it out

john paul jones

john richard baldwin

born on january 3, 1946

nickname is jonesy

was also a session guitarist like jimmy

they had worked together before

when he found out jimmy was forming a group he called jimmy and was basically given the spot immediately

not only was the bassist but also the keyboardist

and could play the recorder

insanely talented. put some respect on his name

he talks in italics i swear to god

i don't have mainly crazy stories about jonesy bc he wasn't about that life

deadass he would go on stage, perform, walk off stage and go to a whole separate hotel from the other

he would only tell one person where he was at and told them not to call unless for super urgent emergencies

pissed peter grant off so much lmao

wasn't really super close to anyone in the band tbh

but bonzo was probably his greatest friend in the band

jimmy and robert kind of leave him out in my opinion

or they use to

when he found out that jimmy and robert were making their own symbols instead of picking out of a book like he was he said “of course!” and laughed

was pretty much left out of the live aid show

he had to squeeze himself on the stage and wasn't even able to play bass. he had to play the keyboard

“and thank you to my friends for finally remembering my phone number” -savage as hell john paul jones

he was one of the two people who found john bonham dead

it’s sad to think about

is actually quite funny

he has this kind of dry humor?? idk but it’s amazing 10/10 content

when john paul jones walks into the room interviewers break into a sweat

managed to look like a completely different person every year throughout the seventies or is it just my eyes?

has an Instagram account now go follow it for cute throwback photos lol

that’s all i really have for generic useless information about led zeppelin members for beginners. i hope it was somewhat entertaining. i'll make some more beginners stuff for led zeppelin. i will make y'all stan them lmao. i'm tagging @babygotblueeyes bc i know for a fact you want to get into them <3

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 4 years

Text

Here Today

Summary: Beaver spotted the man first as he & Jonesy strolled towards Derry’s kissing bridge, hand-in-hand. He was hunched over himself in a way that had to be might uncomfortable. Beaver stopped his loud laughter when Jonesy let go of his hand. For safety.

They’d just bow their heads, walk past and maybe come back later to attend to their business if they saw fit. At least, that could have been the plan had Beaver not recognized the stranger.

Fandoms: IT & Dreamcatcher

Ships: Reddie, Jonesy/Beaver

Word Count: 3,708

There was a man with bad posture sitting on the kissing bridge.

A couple of things were wrong with him. Some were simply symptoms of a common cold (the cough, the stuffiness & the sneeze). But what was left (the breakdowns, the depression & sudden fondness for his hell-hole hometown) were signs of a problem much larger than that of a ‘sick-bug’.

The man with awful posture was re-entering a period of mourning. Like the time of the werewolf; the moon snuck up on Richie Tozier two nights ago and reduced him to a sad, hairy man. Slobbery too. But slobbery with tears.

Each of his loser’s club pals had reached out to him that morning. Their texts were loving & perfect but awkward (through no fault of their own). Who knew what to say to their best friend who’d never officially come out of the closet on the anniversary of the man he never got to confess his full-love to’s death? Hallmark didn’t have the best cards for that. Some. But not a lot.

Mike Hanlon had encouraged his Idea to come on down to Derry over the phone when he’d hesitantly pitched it. Once Richie told him about the carving, Mike told him to go on & head-out. Pay a sentimental visit instead of succumbing to his usual coping mechanism of crying & watching movies for straight men. ‘She’s Out of My League’ had been his original plan for the afternoon.

But sweet Mike was right, as he often was. So Richie negotiated a week off with his agent before the ‘real work’ in his schedule started. He came home...to the place where he’d grown-up...the place which housed some of his fondest and some of his most horrifying memories. It was that strange sort of balance that kept any feeling but numb at bay.

{R + E}

It had still been there, of course. He hadn’t expected any Derry hooligans' to scratch it off or some shit. But it was still sort of surreal to be back again. He traced his fingers along the thick, cut-open lines just as he’d done down the tender ripped skin of Eddie’s wound two years ago. He shouldn’t have been as squeamish this time, considering it was only carved wood not the yanked-open & festering skewer hole of his loved one (Ha! He laughed like a disturbed & deeply depressed Fozzy Bear at that one!)

That had been a little over twenty minutes ago but Richie still hadn’t left. He sat now at the edge with his legs hung over the side. Not completely ready to go back to his lonely motel room. He thought about the Losers having to pull him off Eddie’s body down in the sewers which eerily lead him to his Halloween costume six or so years ago...Tom Petty’s get-up in the ‘Mary Janes Last Dance’ Video.

He felt a sudden urge to vomit and cry at the same time. Because there was truly no way to avoid the pain. It would just have to hammer in his chest until it either passed or killed him. He couldn’t run from himself or his memories for very long. He felt a sick sensation of missing the time he’d first left Derry & was forced to forget everything and everyone. At least then...

No. He hated that he could even think about wanting that. He would just have to keep learning how to live without Eddie Kaspbrak. Shouldn’t be too damn difficult, huh?

: : : : : :

Beaver spotted the man first as he & Jonesy strolled towards Derry’s kissing bridge, hand-in-hand. He was hunched over himself in a way that had to be might uncomfortable. Beaver stopped his loud laughter when Jonesy let go of his hand. For safety. Derry was nowhere near as bad as it’d once been but you couldn’t be too careful when it came to displaying your sexuality in front of strangers, sadly.

Though still, the boys held love for their home-town. After all, it was the setting of their found family and nothing was more important than the good ol’ SSDD gang.

They’d just bow their heads, walk past and maybe come back later to attend to their business if they saw fit.

At least, that could have been the plan had Beaver not recognized the stranger. “Jesus Christ-Bananas!” he yippee’d in that voice Jonesy usually adored but was slightly annoyed by in the moment. “That’s Richie fucking Tozier!”

“A very distressed looking Richie Tozier.” Jonesy corrected, hoping they were giving the man enough space & privacy that he couldn’t notice them yet. He nver understood his boyfriend’s obsession with the guy. To Jonesy, Richie Tozier seemed like any other straight white comedian. “We should probably leave him alone, Beav.”

Beaver’s beautiful joy snapped into an accepted disappointment as he observed the man in front of them. Jonesy could see the ache to rush over was hard for him to hold back. It pained him just to see his boyfriend so deflated. Teased by such a great possible experience-

“I’ll be leaving soon, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

Came a sudden friendly & very Richie Tozier like voice. Beaver just about shouted as they jumped their eyes over to meet the stranger’s. He was tall and a little gangly with Buddy Holly glasses sliding down his nose.

“Actually we were just trying to decide which one of us was going to rob you...” Beaver chuckled awkwardly & so unlike him. “We were gonna do a coin toss for it.” He added before slamming his hand against his forehead (quite forcefully too). “That was a joke, sorry...a dumb joke...” He mumbled. Jonesy couldn’t hold back his amused grin but resisted his urge to pull Beav closer. Instead, he walked forward to their conversation ahead, an eager yet embarrassed boyfriend following him.

“You’re Richie Tozier!” Beaver repeated.

“Beaver’s a bit starstruck.” Jonesy smirked. “He gets this same way whenever he sees a famous comedian just chilling in our hometown.” He chuckled and pretended not to notice Mr. Tozier’s red eyes. He got the feeling---actually it was more than that, he could very well tell the man was caught between a rock & a hard place with the little...trick he & the gang each possessed.

“Hey, that’s ok with me.” He laughed & pushed his glasses up his nose. “Don’t see any paper...want me to sign a body part or something?” He joked and Jonesy knew exactly how Beaver would try and continue the joke so...

The taller friend slapped his palm over ‘Beavers’ mouth which made that squeaky old man laugh escape Richie.

“Gary Jones. You cane call me Jonesy.” The young man held out his free hand to shake in a charming gesture which said ‘We do this bit all the time’. It hit Richie right in the grief bone again.

“Joe Clarendon. But my friends call me Beaver.” And just like that, Beav’s confidence was back.

Richie noticed the way Jonesy practically glowed when his friend spoke. “Richie Tozier.” He felt the need to introduce himself, like an idiot, even though they obviously knew his name. “But you can just call me ‘your hero’, I guess.” He laughed at his own lame joke which seemed to make the Beaver-guy light up again.

He looked them up and down. They looked about twenty or twenty-one to Richie. Beaver was a short but made up for it in hair, which was long & hippie-like. He respected that. Most of his body up top was covered by a large Fonzie-Jacket & the bottom was all about the Doc Martens. Richie felt like he was looking at a bit of a modernized version of his younger self.

Jonesy was going for a much calmer look of a light-blue flannel and sneakers. They looked like quite the pair.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a town like this?” Beaver grinned, charm oozing so easily off him. One of the reasons Jonesy fell in love with him so quickly.

Richie chuckled, swiping his thumb under his nose. “Thought I’d visit my old stomping grounds.” He shrugged.

Jonesy shared a quick look with Beav as a feeling shot up his body. He got the idea through their...special talent that there was more to that story. And by the look of it, so did Beav.

“There’s no way you grew up here. I would’ve known that!” Beaver smacked a hand to his chest. “Jesus-Christ-Bananas!”

Richie quirked his brow at the Beav-ism & Jonesy briefly thought he might ignore it or roll his eyes like most strangers but instead...“Mary, Joseph & the whole fruit basket!” He shook his head. Beav looked like he might burst with respect and adoration. It was just about the cutest thing Jonesy had ever seen. “I can’t believe it myself sometimes.”

The Beav takes a toothpick from his new wooden container (a gift from Mrs. Cavell) and pops it between his teeth. He thought-no-he knew that Rich Tozier was doin’ a voice. Not an outrageous one like he sometimes did on stage but one that said ‘I’m alright. Doing just fine. Nothing to see here’ and all at once Beav felt a little bad for bothering him again.

“I ran around with a little gang of dorks.” He laughed, 100% sure he was about to dumb a lot of his tory onto these poor boys. Not all but some. “Lost one of them two years ago today...” He frowned and looked conflicted before adding “In the flood.”

The boys started to nod but where Jonesy felt a pinch of something wrong in his mind, Beaver started having a full-on attack about it. Like in the old days. Days of Grenadeau and Josie. Jonesy felt his boyfriend shaking and looked to see him trying to repress it to the best of his ability before lurching forward with a grunt that sounded painful.

Richie ducked down like he might try to catch him if he fainted but Beaver popped back up with sweat running down his temple.

‘What happened?’ Jonesy sent a message through his mind almost completely accidentally.

Beaver looked up, looking deeply deeply disturbed and scared. He’d seen images he could not for the life of himself comprehend. ‘Dark places. Large sharpened legs stabbing through somebody's body? Something like that. Screaming and...?’ He looked at Richie. “New shit today, Jonesy.” He felt vomit whirl up his throat but he swallowed quickly. “I saw a clown?”

Richie widened his eyes before vomiting over the edge of the bridge.

“Major gross-out!” Beaver whistled as he heard the plops of chunky puke hit the water. Jonesy looked a little green himself after Rich came up, wiping his mouth with general looking shock.

Beaver was about to make another kind of joke when he noticed the guttural growl the comedic-stranger made as his body lurched forward. He hoped the guy could catch his breath before he choked on any more reverse meals.

He stepped forward to offer him the bandana he kept in the jacket pocket but when they briefly touched hands, another sight hit him that was just as shockingly awful as the last-----

‘Beads of blood dotted the corners of Richie’s torn lips. Hands incapable of remaining clutched with the slickness of the sweat pooling in his palms. He had Eddie kneeling between his skinny legs who was trying to communicate something to him but the most Richie could think to do in those fatal seconds was to hope for a few things.

The kind of hopes that were important to someone at the delicate age of forty.

A large thump above his head made him flinch, Eddie’s fist briefly slamming hard under his chin. He fought back his pain filled yelp by clasping his palm over his wet mouth. His eyes darted wildly back and forth behind the minimal cracks on his glasses.

The second hand dirt that he’d gathered on his piss colored shirt was now having a wipe down of maroon.

Only the dye-job didn’t come from him. Rather, Eddie Kaspbrak who was now wailing above him as Pennywise waved him around like a magic wand.

The hair on the back of his neck stood. He popped his hand off the tight grip he’d had on his chin. The satisfying pop sound came with a small following gurgle. Gasps of choked breaths rushed out from his clotting throat.

But none of that mattered because the love of his life was being murdered right in front of him.

He screamed.’

Beaver screamed too. Not as loud but just as horribly pained.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight...” Richie paced back-and-forth on the bridge while Beaver & Jonesy tried to follow him, amusingly. They’d each given each other new and semi-honest backgrounds now. Richie’s was hard to understand without all the pieces but beyond crazy still. “You’re in a group of friends, from Derry-” He laughed like a crazy person. Beaver loved it. And oddly, so did Jonesy. “And you all have these...powers?”

Jonesy nodded, now walking in-pace with the older man. “You got it.” He chuckled.

“There’s five of us. How many do you have?” Beaver added, standing on his tip-toes.

Richie stopped moving. “There’s seven-” He paused. Thinking of the cruel way Stanley & Eddie had been taken away from them. “Five left though.” He looked like he wanted a cigarette so Beaver instinctively held out a tooth-pick.

When the comedian actually took it, Jonesy saw Beaver smile so wide it looked like it might break his gorgeous little face. For a moment the pair so alike just stared at each other. It was something of a little stand-off that Jonesy was about to question when a different thought popped into his brain. “Whoever died this day-?”

Richie slid down against the wood and sat. “Eddie.” His eyes glazed over for a moment before falling on tiny Beaver’s huge Doc Martens.

Jonesy swallowed, hoping yet knowing he wasn’t wrong. “Was he your...?” He licked his lips in thought. But Richie cut him off by looking back up with freshly-red eyes.

“Almost. Maybe.” He shrugged, rolling his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Slipped through my f-f-fingers-fuck. Starting to sound like stuttering Bill.” He laughed but the boys weren’t sure who that was.

The three of them were now sitting on the bridge together.

“He didn’t know. We left him down there and he didn’t even fucking know I was in love with him.” He sighed, not wanting to think about how weird the day was starting to become. “He was afraid of the dark.” He shrugged, holding the tooth-pick between his fingers, rolling it back-and-forth.

“Taste good like a cigarette should, huh?” Beaver mumbled after a few minutes and again Jonesy was sure that Richie wouldn’t appreciate that reaction but the man surprised him with a hearty laugh.

“It’s like the song says; I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. Seen sunny days that I thought would never end. Seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. But I always thought that I’d see you again...” Beaver raised his tooth-pick, Richie followed without question & Jonesy raised his pinky finger.

“How’d you get to be such a funny kid, huh?” Richie quirked his brow.

Jonesy smiled. “Born that way.” He slapped Beav’s knee gently.

“Overactive imagination and anger issues.” Beaver pushed Jonesy back by the face and giggled when Jonesy just let him do it.

Richie watched the short little spitfire slap-fight his pal and felt sick to his stomach by how much the young man reminded him of himself...and of Eddie only with a tooth-pick holder clutched in his hands instead of the inhaler.

Jonesy felt a short breeze pass over them. “Beav brought me here to show me some carving he did when we were little.” He glanced at his boyfriend with extreme affection. Both knew Richie was safe now.

“Our initials in a heart!” Beaver whistled. “Because little Beav didn’t know how to express his feelings.” He mocked a sweet voice.

Richie laughed, chin to the sky. “You gotta be shitting me.” He leapt to his feet and gestured for them to follow him. Which they did without hesitation. “I came here for a reason today too.” He pointed towards his old carving with an unbelievable amount of pride and utter amazement. Another coincidence.

{R + E}

The younger men each stared at the carving with wonder and appreciation. Beaver kneeled down and traced it with his fingers just as Richie had done just a half-hour ago. Jonesy simply looked off with vague amusement as he threaded his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, Richie supposed he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“My friend, Mike...Mike Hanlon. He thought it’d be good for me to come up here today just to...” He faded off to wave his hands about, not knowing how to finish. The boys looked up with happy looking grins.

“Mike Hanlon?” Jonesy shook his head with joy. “He was our childhood librarian.” His tongue ran across his lips & he was most surely seeing flashes of his childhood. And maybe feeling a bit like time was passing by too quickly.

‘Damn kid was barely twenty-one though’. Richie thought bitterly & fondly.

Beaver nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Nice guy. He helped me check out my Playboy’s that one time.” He stuck a thumb into Jonesy’s shoulder which was slapped away with amusement. His smile faded to an exaggerated grimace. “It was always weird to go there after that.”

Richie couldn’t help but laugh again with the jovial young men. It lasted about twenty seconds before it turned into hoarse sobs. He turned away from them, chest hurting. “Fuck, man! This is embarrassing as shit.” He managed a small chuckle through it.

Jonesy looked at him sympathetically, hearing all of Beaver’s thoughts of ‘I wish Henry were here’.

“SSDD, huh?” Jonesy did the best he could and took pride in himself when the man turned. “Same shit, different day.” He added.

Richie chuckled again, a beautiful one. “Yeah--yeah, I’ve heard it before.” He shook his head and leaned onto the railing. He genuinely looked cheered up by that simple phrase, sharing a private & entertained look with Beaver, who Jonesy would later call his soul-son.

“We should give you our other friend’s number, he’s studying to be a psychologist--”

“Psychiatrist, Beav.” Jonesy corrected.

Beaver shrugged, waving his hand. “Psychiatrist, whatever. He may be able to help your fragile mental state.”

Jonesy accepted just then that his boyfriend could never push too far when it came to Richie because the Tozier man recognized the Beav for what he was. And that would be someone very similar to himself.

It was strangely beautiful.

“What I saw was...” Beav faded off, eyes twitching. It was hard for him to put to words just how gut-wrenching the scene was. “Awful. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through or are going through.” He shook his head.

Jonesy nodded, rubbing a comforting hand down his boyfriend’s arm. “I only just felt it & I wanted to die.” He wondered if that was extremely rude to say.

Richie squinted. He was reminded of a younger Stanley Uris & his ability to see...to understand things past the other loser’s comprehension. He felt a strong urge to insist his losers come back down to Derry just to meet these home-visitors too. Maybe it was meant to be.

“It’ll be hard to get over the fact that my vision of Eddie & I getting together in my head....” He bit into his cheek “Well, it’s going to have to stay there forever.” He looked up at the happy former Derry citizens couple as they instinctively held each-other’s hands tighter. He nearly choked with jealousy. “I loved him for a few years, forgot him for a good twenty-seven more and now...” He waved his hand in-front of him in a tight spiral.

“You’re lonesome all the time since leaving your baby behind on Blue Bayou, huh?” Beaver flicked his tooth-pick. The sky grew a little bit cloudy over their heads and Richie Tozier burst into a fit of giggles.

“You could say that, kiddo.” He crossed his arms, looking ready to drop the subject all together now. “And I’m not gonna say anything more about that fucking clown before you ask.” Rich smiled, pointing a finger at Jonesy who truly was about to ask more about that creature the comedian briefly mentioned only enough to explain Beaver’s vision.

“I’ve made your nice little trip about me, sorry.” He added. “See, making people miserable is a talent of mine. I’m a great comedian in that way.” He rolled his eyes, standing up straight.

“You’d be better if you wrote your own material. I’d like to hear some jokes about that horrible trauma you talked about.” Beaver giggled as he bit hard into his toothpick. Richie burst into another fit of genuine laughter. “My trauma is the center of my comedy-” He smirked.

Jonesy frowned, thinking of the past and of men like Richie Grenadeau who they had once dreamed dead. He softly pinched the back of his boyfriends palm. If Tozier could keep some cards close to his chest, so could they. At least for now.

“Ow! Bitch-in-a-Buzzsaw!” Beaver whipped his hand back and sucked on his skin like a child. Jonesy tried not to giggle as Richie looked on with confusion.

He shrugged in response. “I just-”

“Nah, I got it.” He waved a hand from his temple to the vague direction of Jonesy’s. “We don’t have to tell each other everything. Hell, we’re still strangers.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked off in the direction of his carving.

“But soon to be best friends.” Beaver added, breaking his lips free from the moist spot on his hand. Richie and Jonesy had a nice shared laugh at the charming boy.

They walked a ways up the bridge to see Richie Tozier off, in some silent agreement. Jonesy felt a rush of disappointment pass through him but it was quickly squashed by the eagerness he had for his date with Beaver.

As the group walked him over the bridge, Jonesy caught sight of little Beaver’s old carving...in the shape of a heart...

{B + J}

#idk #i dont think i did a good job with this #i tried but #ahhhh #dreamcatcher #Stephen kings IT #reddie #beaver/jonesy #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #Gary Jones #beaver clarendon #dreamcatcher (2003)#IT by stephen king #it chapter one #it chapter two #my fanfiction

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ma-sulevin · 4 years

Photo

WHOA it’s here. It’s not finished because there are going to be like two more chapters, but GOOD NEWS that’s more smut for you. There’s also, like, actually a little plot this time.

Pairing: James Vega/Avery Ryder Rating: E Warnings: No warnings, just smut. Check out the tags on AO3. Word Count: 5969, chapter one of three.

Read it on AO3 instead, or catch up on their story from the beginning.

---

Avery’s halfway through her third reading of an article her doctor gave her about why the new synthetic DNA that had been found mixed with most humans after the end of the Reaper War had made the most popular contraceptive implants less effective when her omnitool chimes with James’ special chime. She jumps and drops the datapad. It clatters to the floor and Jonesy opens one eye to glare at her from where he’s napping on the other chair.

The orange interface pops up when she lifts her wrist to display James’ message: I found the perfect hotel for when you visit! Dec 30-Jan 5 still good??

Oh, James. She’s going to have to tell him before January. It's a few months away, but… she's going to have to tell him.

Another message comes through as she’s considering the first. I know you’ve been sick so thought I’d cheer you up. And then: Whatdid the doctor say?

She closes her omnitool without replying. She can’t talk to him right now. She can’t. She needs to talk this out before she brings him into it, needs to weigh her options and have… she needs help. She would have talked to her mom about all this, before, would have called her up when she first felt sick and gotten a ride to the doctor and then had someone to comfort her when she wanted to cry after.

Every unsafe encounter they had plays out behind her eyelids, in vivid detail: the broken condom, the drunken fuck behind Sam’s house, the sober but ill-advised condom-free sex the rest of the weekend before he shipped out.

One of those times did it.

They’re not goddamn teenagers. This was stupid, and they should have known better. There’s not any fucking excuse for this.

Her omnitool vibrates as James calls her, and she answers out of habit before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Hey, birdie!” His voice is optimistic, almost aggressively so, and she realizes he’s probably convinced she’s dying and doesn’t want to tell him. “You home yet?”

“Yeah, I’m home,” she says, and then… shit.

She chokes on a sob as her vision starts to swim, and she claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise that will out her reaction to James.

It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong?” His response is immediate, his voice low and comforting, and when she doesn’t respond right away she hears him shuffling around over the audio connection. He says something she can’t hear to someone she can’t see, then a door clicks closed and he’s speaking to her again, “Talk to me, Avery. What did the doctor say?”

She clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. “I, uh. I’m pregnant.”

His response is slower this time. It gives her enough time to take a few gasping breaths and for Jonesy to drag himself away from the sun and drape himself over her lap instead, a spot of comfort for the human who took him in after the reapers left.

“What?”

“Yeah, uh… I guess I’m due at the beginning of June.”

She can hear him sighing over the connection, a long exhale that makes her eyes well with more tears. She didn’t mean for this to happen, she thought she was preventing it, even if she wasn’t being as careful as she should have been.

“Birdie,” he says, still kind of sighing, “I thought you were going to tell me something awful.”

“I wouldn’t say this is great news.”

“But you’re okay, you’re not sick.” There’s more shuffling from his end of the line, more mysterious noises she can’t put a name to since he’s on the other side of the planet. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, miserable, voice on the edge of cracking again.

“It isn’t your fault—”

“It kinda is, though.” Avery’s not ready to let it go, but James doesn’t seem to be either.

“If anyone’s to blame,” he interrupts, voice a little louder to get her attention before it returns to the lower, more serious tone he’s been using, “it’s me. I wasn’t being careful, and I’m sorry.”

Avery groans and pulls Jonesy up to press her face into his fur. He chirps a little and lets her, starting to purr under her attention. “We can do this all day. I know, I know we said we’re going to try the whole long-distance boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but… this isn’t something we talked about, and I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want you to feel, like, trapped or anything.”

“We did talk about it.” James doesn’t quite cut her off again, but it’s a near thing, and her temper starts to spark and then fades right away at his words. “You told me you wanted a family, and I said we’d make beautiful babies, and then we started making out on your sink.”

“That’s not really, that’s not really talking about it,” she protests, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks at the memory. “Not, like, ‘what if this happens this weekend,’ talking about it, it was more like ‘generally in the future we have this in common.’ Right?”

“Sure, but…” He trails off, muffles a groan, starts again. “I told you before, I’m not Alec. You don’t have to doubt me. I know this is, uh, way sooner than we thought it would be, but if you’re in this, I’m in this. All the way.”

Avery starts crying again, quietly this time. She hadn’t really had enough time to think about how James would react, but this is more than she could have hoped for. He doesn’t even sound worried or scared or any of the other emotions that have been swirling around in her mind since she found out.

He just sounds… supportive.

Here for her.

No matter what.

“If you still can, I still want you to visit in January. I found a great little house on the beach, it’s new construction obviously, but it’s in the old style. You’ll love it.”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “January?”

“Yeah, birdie.” He sounds hopeful now, more relaxed, and she smiles despite herself. “It’ll be nice and hot, and I have a few days off between training. It’ll be perfect. Just the… just the three of us.”

She laughs, just a little, and James does too.

“Come on, we’re in this together, right? I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A pause, as she considers, tries to figure out how pregnant she’ll be in January, decides it’s probably okay. “I’ll come see you.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, can picture it so clearly in her mind. “I can’t wait.”

And, despite the tears still threatening to come back, she can’t either.

—-

James is fucking terrified. He’d never ever tell Avery that in a million years, absolutely unwilling to freak her out or make her worry for even a second that he’s going to leave her or treat their baby like Alec treated her, but he’s terrified about the future.

Sam gets an earful about it every time he comes up with a new concern, and she calms him down or calls him an idiot, depending on what the problem is, at least once a week. With her on his side, he’s able to listen to Avery’s worries and excitement (depending on where her mood has swung) and calm her down or gas her up, whatever she needs, whatever support he can offer her from the other side of the planet.

N-school is tough, and he’s exhausted so much of the time, and he misses her with every fiber of his being. He wants to be there with her right now, he wants to be home in her apartment, but every time he casually mentions putting off N-school for a year or two, she yells at him.

She’s not going to be the reason he puts off his dreams, even if his dreams are keeping them apart.

They’re starting a family at the worst possible time, and he can’t be with her, and he’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know it yet because he’s too much of a fucking coward to tell her.

He keeps trying, wants to tell her when they’re video chatting, staying up way too late to share their secrets; he wants to tell her every time she sends him an ultrasound, every time she sends him a picture of her belly as it grows (he still thinks it’s pretty small, even though she insists she already feels big), every time she sends him a dirty picture when he’s in class, and every time she smiles at him, flushed and happy, over a late-night vid call that ended in yet another round of phone sex.

He wants to tell her, but he’s a coward, and he’s afraid of her response, and anyway, shouldn’t that kind of confession be in person?

That’s what he’s been telling himself at least, and so he’s kept his mouth shut, and he’s fucking terrified because he’s going to be a dad and he’s in love with his girlfriend and he’s standing at the shuttleport with flowers clutched in sweaty hands because he wants to give her every good thing in the world.

He’s not prepared to see her being pushed in a wheelchair by a put-upon employee, looking absolutely murderous as she slouches with her shoulders up around her ears.

She catches his eyes and her face flashes as red as her hair, but she still points him out to the man pushing her. They change course and head straight for him, the employee looking at James with something like pity before he manages to smooth his expression back out into something politely neutral.

“What the — what happened?”

He looks from Avery to the man helping her and back, completely torn, flowers forgotten in his hands as he lowers them to his side.

Avery hauls in a deep breath. “You get a little motion sick—”

“She passed out, sir,” the man says, obviously done with Avery’s bullshit if the interruption and somewhat dead expression in his eyes is any indication. “It’s company policy to assist ill passengers to either medical help or to their destinations.”

“Okay, uhh, thank you.” James stares at him for another minute before moving a little closer and offering Avery his free hand. She takes it with a mutinous expression and stands up mostly under her own power, stumbling a little before she’s fully upright. She flushes red again, this time, he thinks, in embarrassment. “Do you have — oh, thanks.”

The man hands James a duffle bag and takes the wheelchair with him as he leaves, and James stands staring at Avery for several seconds before he manages to find his words.

“You passed out?”

She shrugs and avoids his eyes. “Just a little.”

“Birdie—”

“I just get motion sick anyway and the baby makes it worse. I promise I’m okay. Hey.” She finally looks up and meets his eyes, reaches out and puts her hands on his waist. “I missed you.”

The little knot of terror and worry relaxes a little when he sees her smiling at him, a soft expression aimed at him, close enough to kiss… so he does, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in the softest kiss he can manage as she tries to push herself closer and hold him in place with her fingers tugging at his shirt.

He forces himself back up to his full height and smiles widely at the little pout she gives him.

“C’mon, let’s go to the house. Here.” He hands her the flowers he brought with him, excitement briefly overwhelming the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. She smiles and gives the bouquet a tentative sniff before inhaling again, more deeply.

He waits for her to pass judgment — on the flowers, on him, on the trip in general — and he’s still staring at her when she opens her eyes and offers him a wide, bright smile. She looks more like her old self, the one he remembers from London, color coming back into her cheeks and something playful in her expression.

“Get moving, soldier. We have a vacation to start.”

He grins down at her and slings her duffle over his shoulder before taking her hand. She lets him pull her outside to flag down a taxi, then she snuggles up against his side and slips her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m glad you could come.” He wraps his free arm around her shoulders and squeezes, and when she giggles, the noise is pressed against his ribs. He glances down and all he can see is one of her eyes as she peers up sideways at him.

“You’re going to be extra glad when you see what I brought.”

A taxi pulls up and the driver pops the trunk for her bag. James detangles himself from her, taking a second to enjoy the sight of her smirking at him with one hand resting on the bump that her shirt mostly hides.

“Oh? You bring something fun?”

She shrugs one shoulder and then somehow manages to look up at him from under her lashes without moving, and his heart does a funny little flip in his chest that has nothing to do with the promise written on her face and more to do with the confession he wants to make.

“A few things I think you’ll enjoy. You have to wait.”

He opens the door for her and snags a lingering kiss before she climbs in, swiping his tongue against her lower lip just to see the way it makes her eyes go dark and her lips part a bit.

Dios, she’s beautiful.

He loves her.

She climbs in the taxi with a wink, and he follows her without another word.

—-

He’s a little disappointed but not particularly surprised when she falls asleep on the way to their little rental house, her head tucked against his shoulder and her fingers tangled up in his like she never wants to let go.

She snores a little bit the whole way there, earning her several amused looks from the driver. James just keeps her hand tight in his and the warmth locked in his chest.

He can’t stop himself from smiling, though, not with her resting against him.

It almost makes him wish he hadn’t come to N-school at all.

She’s groggy when he wakes her up, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her mascara without noticing, and he ushers her into the rental without stopping to point out how close they are to the ocean, how private it is with the closely-growing foliage, or how he came out early and stocked the kitchen so they’d only have to go out in public if they want to. He just points her in the direction of the bed and takes off her shoes when she drops onto the blankets without undressing at all.

He putters around the house, looking for something to do to give her space. He puts the flowers in water, puts her bag up next to his, then eventually settles on the bed next to her with the datapad he wasn’t supposed to bring to work on reports for N-school he isn’t supposed to start until after she goes back to London.

He wonders if she’ll be willing to ask for a transfer to Brazil, or if she’ll want to stay in London where she has more friends, something of a support system for when he’s too busy or gone.

At least in London, she has Sam.

He decides he won’t ask.

At some point, she rolls over and shifts higher up the bed, opening one eye to stare at him like she’s not sure who he is or why he’s in her bed, then she blinks and a slow smile stretches across her face. She reaches out one hand for him, and he wraps his fingers around hers until she falls back asleep about ten seconds later.

It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

She finally wakes up after a couple hours and staggers to the bathroom without saying anything. She pops back out a minute later, all smiles, shaking out red hair that’s almost down to her elbows now.

He puts the datapad away and moves to sit up right at the edge of the mattress.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm…” She comes to stand between his knees and he lets his hands rest on her hips, easy as anything, like it hasn’t been nearly five months since he’s seen her. She stops playing with her hair and runs her fingers into his the best she can with most of it so short. “You shouldn’t’ve let me sleep so long.”

He slips his hands up under her shirt to rest against her skin. “You needed it.”

She makes a quiet little humming noise, not really agreeing or disagreeing, and leans in close like she’s going to kiss him. Their noses brush together, but she doesn’t press her lips to his, and he can’t help but tighten his grip on her.

“You know what else I need?”

He thinks he has a pretty good idea, but when he tilts his head up to kiss her, she stays just far enough away so he can’t.

“Birdie…”

She dips her head and he tilts his chin up, but she refuses to come close enough, her fingers tightening on his scalp in a way that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He loves when she’s like this.

He loves it.

“I believe I was promised a nice, big, delicious —” He tries to pull her closer mid-sentence, but she resists as her grin grows, “—fruity drink, and a white-sand beach, and a chance to show off the little bikini I bought.”

She nips his lower lip instead of kissing him and slips out of his grip as he groans. He can hear her giggling to herself as she grabs her bag and disappears back into the bathroom with it, leaving him to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

He’s been waiting so long to get his hands on her and he can’t even lie to himself to say he’s annoyed with her teasing.

He loves that too.

He’s still sitting on the bed when she emerges from the bathroom once more, this time in the little bikini she’d promised, the one he’d requested be held together with strings. It’s tiny and black, and it shows off her curves, and all he can think about is tangling his fingers in all that red hair and refusing to let her out of the house all week.

He doesn’t realize he’s just staring at her with his mouth open until she starts to laugh, walking closer with an exaggerated sway in her step to stand between his knees again.

She tips his chin up with her fingers. “See something you like?”

“Uhh… can I…” His hands hover in the air on either side of her stomach, a swirl of confusing feelings washing over him. He wants to yank her into his lap, roll them over on the bed, absolutely devour her; he wants to take her to the beach, take her to his favorite restaurant, show her off to the world; he wants to hold her and tell her she’s beautiful, that he loves her, that he can’t wait to meet their baby. He wants.

She’s smiling at him still, but it’s a little softer, something in her eyes he can’t quite identify. “Go ahead.”

He’s tentative as he finally touches her, hands running over her biotic-warm skin, over scars and skin weaves and the surprisingly firm slope that leads down to her belly button. He brushes his fingertips across her skin, just the barest of touches, and she rests her hands on the small of her back as she waits for him to finish exploring this new part of her.

“Is she, um. Is she awake?” The question feels silly, he feels silly for asking it, but Avery doesn’t look like she’s laughing at him.

She just looks happy.

She puts her hand next to his as she shakes her head, then she pushes hard against the bump. “Nope. Lazy little thing.”

“Hey, growing is a hard job.” He leans forward and kisses the biggest part of the bump, then just under the string of her bikini top in something meant to be little gestures of affection but that makes her inhale sharply instead. He rests his chin there and looks up at her, unable to stop from smirking when he sees her cheeks stained pink. “Give her a break.”

He slides his hands around to rest on her back and pulls, and this time she lets him tug her all the way into his lap. She settles with her knees on either side of his hips and rests her hands on his shoulders.

“She can have a break when I get one,” Avery says, voice prim, repeating something she always says, and then she finally finally kisses him.

Oh, he’s missed this.

She kisses him like she can’t get enough, like she’d devour him if she could, hungry and desperate and everything he’s been waiting for. He opens his mouth to her and lets her lick into it as he runs his hands up her back. She’s warm and delicious and everything he wants, and he pulls at the bow holding her bikini top together without thinking about it.

She giggles and bites at his lower lip, tugging as she leans back before releasing him to pull her top off and drop it to the floor.

“Guess we can look at the beach later?” She arches her back as she speaks, and he barely hears her words as his gaze is drawn, as she intended, to her breasts and nipples that are little darker than he remembers, but still beautiful all the same.

He doesn’t bother to answer whatever she asked, choosing instead to let her figure it out by kissing down between the valley of her breasts and then over, keeping her in his lap with one hand on her back and cupping the weight of her breast with the other, squeezing, licking and sucking at the hard peak as she gasps and squirms in his grip.

The pressure of her body on his dick is getting to him, her restless little movements just making him harder, and he groans around her flesh in his mouth as she manages to hit him just right, grinding against the bulge trapped in his pants like she was always meant to do this.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she says, voice small and breathy. She digs her fingernails into his scalp and holds him close, like he’d ever willingly push her away right now. “Your tongue is amazing. I could come just from this.”

She gives her hips another strong thrust as she does, like she’s trying to prove her point, and he can’t help but peer up at her.

He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

He braces his feet better on the floor and moves both his hands to her hips to help guide her, forcing her hips into a steady, rolling movement over his lap until he hears her shuddering little gasps each time he hits her clit just right. He keeps his mouth busy leaving little nipping kisses across her chest, giving both breasts the kind of attention he’s literally been dreaming about, letting her ramble about how good he is to her, just giving her all the attention she deserves until…

Her breath catches in her throat and then bursts out of her in a high-pitched whine, and her hips fight back against the motion of his hands, and her fingernails dig into his scalp.

She’s close, she’s so close he knows she just needs a little push, and so he groans against her chest and bites down just enough to change up the sensation, just enough to give his kisses that edge, and then she’s falling apart in his hands just like he knew she would.

A wordless cry falls from her lips and she shudders through it, holding him tight and pressing against him as hard as she can. It’s beautiful, and he can’t keep his eyes off her, off the goosebumps that flow over her skin and the red flush that reaches from her face down across her chest.

He wants to make her feel this good every single day of her life.

She pulls away after a moment, still panting, a wide grin on her face as she opens lust-darkened eyes and stares down at him.

He smirks up at her, stupidly pleased, and then she’s pushing at his shoulders so he’ll fall onto his back.

“You have five seconds to get your clothes off,” she informs him, and then she stands up to follow her own command.

It takes more than five seconds, but he’s so ready to get his pants off that he doesn’t argue, jumping up and stripping in record time as Avery simply pushes her bikini bottoms over her hips and leaves them on the floor.

She’s already scooting back on the bed to get comfortable, her eyes on his dick where he’s stroking it because he can’t help but touch it to push back the desire to sink into her biotic-hot body and forget everything else in the galaxy.

He crawls over her, and she opens up for him, bracketing his waist with her knees and parting her lips to make their first kiss deep and wet, already trying to angle her hips up to meet his even as he keeps his weight braced up and well away from her.

She makes a little frustrated noise, grabbing for his dog tags like she always does. “C’mon, Jimmy.”

He lets her pull her close enough to kiss her, a teasing little swipe of his tongue across her lower lip. She releases him with a smile, then she squeals as he leans down and bites at her nipple once more, still reddened and swollen from his earlier attention.

He kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, across her hip, pausing to nip at her inner thigh when she spreads her legs further apart for the breadth of his shoulders.

She’s grinning down at him when he looks up at her, something smug on her face as she anticipates what he’s about to do.

“I missed that tongue of yours while you’ve been here.”

“That right?” He licks over the spot he bit and watches as she bites her lower lip. “Well, it missed you too.”

She huffs out a laugh and flops back onto the pillows, but her legs stay open and her hips cant up toward his mouth, eager like always.

He gives in, like always.

The taste of her bursts bright and tart on his tongue, and he moans against her as he licks up her slit. He presses his tongue in deep when she starts to grind up against his face, then moves a little closer in on his elbows so he can start up a fast pattern over her clit just to hear her—

She swears roundly, hands landing on the back of his head like they belong there, tugging him closer like he’d try to leave.

He never wants to leave.

He holds her hips as steady as he can with his arms under her thighs, and doesn’t put effort into teasing her in favor of just giving her what she wants. She came all this way to see him, and he’s going to make sure she never forgets what he’s able to do for her, what he’s able to coax out of her body.

Her quiet groans become louder, cries of his name and little admissions that make his dick ache to be inside of her, unhappy to be pushed into the mattress for the time being.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she says, voice breathy and rambling like she can’t help it, “I don’t know how I snagged you, don’t know how there aren’t girls lining up for a turn.”

His laugh is buried deep in her cunt but she hears it anyway, or she feels it, because she bites off a high-pitched moan that lets him know she’s close but not quite there before she picks back up where she left off.

“Mmm, yeah, you know it’s true just look at you, fucking hungry for it, couldn’t even wait until after we went to the beach.”

He’s not about to pull his mouth free to remind her that she’s the one who started teasing him, she’s the one who was talking about what big delicious things she needed, so he just tightens his grip on her hips and closes his eyes and focuses on the way his tongue is dancing over her clit because she’s so close and if he can just get her in the right spot…

“Fuck, right there.” She catches her breath, lets it out in a whoosh, and her thighs start to shake by his ears. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

It’s the only time she calls him baby, right as she’s about to come, and he loves to hear it, loves to coax it or force it out of her, and he just has to wait one more second she’s so close—

When she comes it’s absolutely silent, her body going taught around him, her fingers digging painfully into his scalp, her thighs tense and shaking, blocking him in from moving, her feet pressed against his sides like she can hold him there.

He keeps licking her until she catches her breath and manages to wail, the sound ripped from her almost against her will, and then she’s pushing him away because she’s too sensitive now, but he needs to be able to breathe anyway.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his face as she tries to catch her breath, legs still spread obscenely on either side of him, one arm hooked over her face so she can hide her eyes behind her elbow.

“That good, huh?”

“Fuck you,” she says, absolutely no venom in her voice.

He snickers and leans over her, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees, kissing her under her arm. She kisses him back and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck instead of holding it over her face. She licks his lips, into his mouth, moaning at the taste of herself like she always does, and he follows his instincts to sink down lower when he feels her legs come up around his hips too.

Her stomach bumps against his before he’s expecting it to, and he tries to push back up before she locks her ankles at the small of his back.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, fucked out and eloquent.

“You sure this is—” He trails off because she finally opens her eyes and looks up at him, moving her hands around to cup his jaw.

Her fingers trace his cheeks, dance over the scar that traces across his face, and his heart does that same little flop as before. “Perfectly safe. Recommended, even. I’ll tell you if something hurts, just, please, please for the love of god, fuck me.”

Well.

He can’t argue with that.

He kisses her again, then pulls away with a little smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lets go of his neck and puts her hands flat on the headboard behind her, smirking right back, and he takes his cue to sit back on his heels.

He takes himself in hand and lines up, not bothering to tease anymore, slipping deep inside her with one slow, delicious thrust.

He can barely hear her whimper over his own groan at being inside of her again. It’s everything he’s been missing and somehow better than he remembered, tight and almost too hot and he never, ever wants to leave.

When he doesn’t move fast enough for her, too busy enjoying the feeling of being inside her again, she uses her leverage to push her hips hard into his, nearly knocking him off-balance

“Goddamn,” he says, forcing the word out through grit teeth. “Okay. You asked for it.”

He looks down to see her face break into a wide, dirty smile, her face flushed and hair sticking to her damp forehead.

And then he pulls out, and pushes back in, hard, and he grins at the delighted laugh that pushes from Avery’s throat.

He can do better than that.

He fucks her, hard, just like she asked, a punishing pace that has sweat dripping from his scalp and pleasure shooting up his spine faster than he’d like.

It has been a long time.

He puts his hands on her ass and lifts her hips onto his thighs, and the next thrust makes her howl and arch her back, a delighted sound that he wants her to make again, so he grits his teeth together against the mounting pleasure and keeps fucking going.

She’s going to come again.

She deserves it.

“This what you wanted, birdie?” His voice is rough, words forced out between sharp thrusts and harsh breaths, but they have the effect he wanted. She arches again, squirming against his bruising grip, face twisted in what he would think is pain if he didn’t know better. “This what you flew all the way out here for?”

Her “Yes!” is frantic, barely an answer to his question and more of a general exclamation of approval, and he smiles to himself as he shifts his grip on her so he can bring his right hand to her clit. She shrieks again when he presses his thumb against it, hips moving a little slower now so he can focus, but no less hard, and she absolutely howls with it.

She’s so close.

He is too.

“Come for me,” he says, trying to make it sound more like a demand and less like the plea it is. “Let me fucking feel you.”

She nods, fast, eyes squeezed closed and mouth open, chest heaving as she draws in ragged breaths.

He presses harder with his thumb, his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him at any moment, praying, praying, praying…

She begins to come barely a second before him, his name dripping from her lips as her cunt clenches around him, and then he can’t hold on for anything. He fucks through it, pleasure bursting through him and making his vision go white, and he curls around her to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he comes inside her.

When he comes back to himself, she’s rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head.

“Doing okay there?”

She sounds amused, so he just groans in answer, earning the giggle he was aiming for.

“You’re gonna crush me,” she informs him, still sounding amused.

He rolls to the side but doesn’t let go of her, tugging until her back is against his front and her hair is all over his face. It’s annoying, but he can’t make himself care.

She wiggles in his grip. “I thought you were taking me to the beach.”

He squeezes her tighter, presses a kiss to the back of her neck where he thinks her amp port is. “I’m just catching my breath. Give me a minute.”

He’s asleep before he hears her response.

#james vega #mass effect #x: say you won't let go #my writing #pregnancy #oc: avery ryder

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fancifulwritings · 4 years

Text

The Song Remains The Same

after quite a long time (i am so sorry this took so long to anyone that’s been following for a while) here’s chapter 17! i’ll probably start working on the next chapter almost right away, but i’m more than happy to have any recommendations/wants to write next, my ask box is always open!

A small panic fell upon the room. No one said anything, but they all knew the cause. The word, the simple word of problem, didn't sit well with anyone. Things had seemed to be going so well. What could this so called problem be? What had they done?

One by one, they all looked at Jimmy. Those who had been together at that dinner, the one that seemed so long ago after the concert, knew he liked to push buttons. Bonzo might not have been there, but his head still turned. The dynamic between Robert and Jimmy wasn't lost to him. They fought like cats and dogs, like true brothers. It got on everyone's nerves back in the day. Even Jimmy, for a few moments, wondered if he was the one to blame. He didn't think he had overstepped, not yet at least.

Calypso, of course, felt the most nervous. She was the less sure of this whole thing. Her footing into their world was weak. She might have been the once to cause this, but that didn't guarantee her a place. One word from Robert and she would be sent packing. An eternity, alone, stuck forever at twenty-one, with her so-called soulmate refusing anything to do with her? It sounded like hell. Her thoughts, after focusing on Jimmy causing this, naturally turned to herself.

John Paul, like everyone else, thought it was Jimmy. It was where his thought stayed for the longest. But then they turned away from them. Perhaps this was no one's fault. Perhaps it was something to do with Robert. Had he not shared that their stay had a limit? Did he need a few moments to himself? John Paul understood why his house was so far out into the woods. Sometimes a man just needed his time to himself. Was that it? Or did Robert had prior arrangements he needed to uphold?

The anxiety stayed over the room for a few seconds. Robert noticed this, watched everyone's eyes and heads shift to Jimmy. It was amusing to him. But he didn't let it sit longer for a moment. That felt a bit too cruel to do to them. He burst out laughing before he could talk, though. All of them were too easy to wind up, even all these years later.

"They're not real problems, not problems like we used to have," he said with a roll of his eyes. A few more chuckles left his body before he could talk again. "Just a few things that need to be taken care of. Physical problems, not social ones, lads. You lot need to calm down just a little bit," he said.

Once he finished speaking, silence again fell over them. They were waiting for him to announce what these problems were. They were all wracking their brains. No one could think of what was wrong. The few moments of silence, as Robert collected himself from his laughing fit, seemed to be a bit too much for some people.

"Well, will you spit it out lad!" Bonzo roared with a smile. "I know we technically got forever and all, but I don't wanna sit here that long, waiting for you to find your words," he said. There was a clearly playful tone in his voice. It brought a smile to Calypso's face.

There interactions seemed so lighthearted. Robert's own face had a smile growing, one that was different from his laughing. It was a fond smile, Calypso realized. He had waited years for this. Robert had gone years and years, likely praying for one more day with his best friend. How many times had Robert dreamed that Bonzo was alive again? It was touching. Calypso counted herself lucky that she got to see this wishes and dreams come true.

"Well, first, you lot are disgusting. You're absolute pigs!" He said with a smirk. "And while this is partially about the dishes, don't think me and Calypso will be doing them all ourselves, it's actually about how much you eat. Though, Bonz, I do expect a thorough cleaning of your room before you leave, I remember what your hotel rooms looked like," he said. There was a twinkle in his eyes. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Robert had missed teasing his best friend.

"And you haven't been eating a grossly inappropriate amount, especially for a bunch of twenty something year olds," he said. Calypso thought for a moment he was getting more comfortable with the whole situation. That was immensely good. It made her feel a bit more at east. "But I hadn't planned for," he paused to count them all off, "five guests plus me. I had just enough or about a week or so," he said.

His thinking, then, was that it would be enough time to hide out. The people he interacted with on a normal weekly basis of course knew who he was. But they also didn't make a huge fanfare of who he was. The town, no doubt, would be swarmed with Zeppelin fans after the concert. People seeking out him or any of the other two. They would make a huge deal out of who he was. Robert was passed the age, at that point, of wanting people to make a deal out of who he was. So he had wanted to hide away for a week. But now that was all gone out of the window. He hadn't exactly planned for this.

What was the problem with the food? None of them exactly got it. Surely they all had the funds to go out and get the food. Robert couldn't be that low on cash that he couldn't afford to eat. "Now, mate, you're not telling me you're broke, are ye? Because I think anyone of them," Bonzo pointed to everyone else, "can afford a bit of groceries."

To that, Robert only tutted and shook his head. Surely everyone else would get it. But even Calypso wasn't piecing together what the food problem was. "Do I need to show everyone a mirror?" He asked with a sigh. "We can't exactly go out like this. Unless someone has enough cash to buy stock in a grocery market, I'm not exactly sure how we can go about getting food," he explained.

Calypso realized he was right. The one thing that had her in constant awe, she had forgotten. Without any real interaction with the outside world, she had momentarily forgotten it wasn't 1970-something. It was easy to do, being surrounded by all their faces for only twenty-four hours.

Robert very much was right. They would need a large amount of food, an insane amount so they could stay hidden for a little bit. Six months to feed on just strictly three meals a day was going to be a lot for anyone. Someone who hadn't prepared? Someone who couldn't exactly go out in public like they were? If anyone used their card, they could be found out immediately.

A card gave a name, and with the increasingly familiar face, the cashier was bond to recognize them. That was assuming that no one stopped them in the shop because how much they looked like whatever member of Led Zeppelin. The voice, the looks, the everything about them would give them away. There was only so much they could lie their way out of. They still held a bit of popularity. If they didn't, the reunion concert wouldn't have been a big deal, or a deal at all. If they didn't, Calypso never would have fallen in love with the band.

"I can do it," Maureen piped up after a moment. They all turned to her, a bit confused. How could she do it? To that, she just laughed a bit. "No one knows what I look like, who I am. No one's gonna think twice about me. I might be young again, but I wasn't the famous one, remember?" She said with a grin. "And I think I've got more than enough money in my bank account to cover it. Well, John does, but you all know it's the same difference," she said with yet another laugh.

In that moment, it was pretty easy to see that Robert felt a fool. All of them did, Calypso included. After a few seconds, Robert busted out laughing. How could that be forgotten? He'd managed to project his problems onto everyone, and not everyone shared them.

It wasn't like he had forgotten about Mo. If asked about it, he would defend himself. He knew she was here. It was more that he had simply forgotten she wasn't famous. Sure, she had been in that one scene in their movie, ages ago, and a few pictures here and there, but how many people really knew what she looked like? She was the only one in their little group with easy access to a bank account who wouldn't get caught.

That didn't solve their next problem. As much as Robert would love for the answer to be Mo doing everything, it just wouldn't work. It also wouldn't be fair to her and Jonesy's bank account.

"The other little problem is a little less life or death, but it'll certainly need to be solved," he said. "None of us have proper clothing. I feel like I'm drowning in my old man's suit whenever I get dressed. And poor Bonz doesn't anything besides what's literally on his back," he paused to chuckle, "it might look like 1973, but we can't wear the same outfit for days on end anymore. He'll reek."

This was not a problem that had occurred to Calypso. It wasn't even really a problem, more a dilemma they needed to fix. The food issue had been somewhere in the back of her mind. After all, Robert had mentioned last night he didn't have enough food for all of them. The fridge and cupboards were becoming more and more bare as she watched him cook.

Eventually, she would have voiced her concern about the food to Robert. But he had beat her too it, before it was a truly pressing matter, so she didn't have to think about that. Having four full grown men in a house without food and those same four fully grown men couldn't leave sounded like something out of a nightmare.

Clothing wasn't something that would have ever crossed her mind. It simply wasn't a problem. She'd packed as much clothing as she could fit into her luggage. Whenever she ran out, she could have just laundry. The rest of them didn't have that sort of luxury. Their clothes didn't fit them anyone. Bonzo had it the worst with the one singular suit he wore that was obviously just a bit too big for him. It had been fitted for a much larger Bonzo.

Calypso glanced around the table and the clothing issue become more apparent the more she focused on it. Robert sat adjusting himself, no longer comfortable in the casual outfit he had on. With the long curls that cascaded to almost halfway down his back, the button up and slacks combo he had on looked out of place. Once again, he embodied a 1970s rock star but his clothes suggested retired dad.

Jimmy looked just as equally out of place and simply wrong as Robert did. He'd always been the skinniest out of the band, even now. But the clothes he was currently in ate his small frame. It was almost like his clothes were swallowing him up until nothing was left. The silver locks were gone, placed by his dark mop of hair, and it a startling difference for Calypso.

Jonesy didn't appear too out of place. His clothes were too big for him, just like the rest of them. But, as far as Calypso was concerned, he'd always dressed rather normally. His build and hairstyle could easily just be a normal, everyday. It was part of the reason he had been able to blend in with a crowd and escape back in the day.

"I don't need any clothing," Jimmy said after a moment of silence.

Bonzo scoffed at that idea. "What? You just gonna deal with what ya got until we all see your ass?"

That was met with an eye roll from Jimmy, barely noticeable underneath his wild fringe. "No, I still have most my stuff from back in the day. It should all fit just fine now. No need to give you the privilege of my bum." Jimmy chuckled as he spoke. "That is, whatever didn't end up in museums or archives."

That struck Calypso as a bit odd. Why would he bother keeping all of that? It wasn't like he thought he should keep it around so that if he lost the weight he could wear it again. No old man could want to wear his clothing from the 70s, could he? Especially one that probably hadn't taken the best care of himself. What condition would the clothes even be in?

As Calypso mulled over her thoughts, something clicked inside of Robert. None of the rest of them had kept their clothes. That was what normal people did. Got rid of their clothes as the fashion changed drastically and they out grew things. There was only one answer.

"You little slimy bastard, you were always ready for this to-" He began, anger apparent in his voice, before he was cut off.

"Boys, let's not fight right now. We've done enough of that, I think," Maureen said quickly. "It doesn't matter why Jimmy doesn't need anything. Just count it a blessing none of us will witness his bum." She gave a cutting glance to Robert, almost daring him to challenger her.

"Alright, well, that settles one out of four of us," Robert said. His voice gave away his clear annoyance. "One or two of us might be able to sneak out, but not all of us. That's asking to be recognized, no matter how good we disguise ourselves." At that, Calypso couldn't help but chuckle. How exactly could any of them disguise themselves?

After a moment, Jonesy spoke up. "I can go for myself and Bonzo," he said. Robert cocked his head a bit quizzically at the statement, as did Calypso. There was something so sure in his statement, in his voice.

"It's not the first time I've done it," he said with a laugh. The statement might have been meant as clarification, but it didn't seem to clarify anything, at least for Calypso. Robert's head remained cocked as well.

"Someone, back in the day, liked to under-pack for tours. It was a chronic condition," Jonesy said as he shot a look toward Bonzo. "Whatcha pack for that one American tour? Two briefs, a singular sweater, and maybe three pairs of shorts?"

"And what was on me back!" Bonzo pointed out.

"Yes, yes, of course. How could I forget that important detail?" Jonesy asked with a playful smile painted on his face.

"Not everyone loved life on the road, you know. I had a family!" He replied, seemingly in defense of himself. This apparently was an age old fight, though maybe not started by the issue of clothing.

Robert rolled his eyes at the comment. "We all had families, my boy, that is besides Jimmy." Bonzo turned a bit red, but didn't bother to respond with anything. It was obvious that this fight was one they had time and time again, and had been settled long before Calypso had come along.

"But, either way, John Paul will go clothes shopping like the old days," Robert said with a smile. The feeling in the room lightened a little bit at that.

"Well, I think you should obviously go, Robert," Calypso piped up after another moment. In her mind, who else could go for him? He was too tall for Jonesy to be able to accurately judge what size he might need.

Jonesy and Bonzo had an almost similar sense of style, or Bonzo just put up with Jonesy's clothing choices. That alone told her that Jonesy didn't have practice buying for Robert as well. Robert seemed a bit pickier than that. And Jimmy seemed to have checked out about the clothing problem, not wanting a thing to do with it. He'd probably shame them all for not simply keeping their clothes.

Once it was out of her mouth, though, she regretted it. Everyone turned to look at her. It was as if they had forgotten she was there. Which, she couldn't fully blame them for. That wasn't the reason for her regret, though. With everyone leaving the house, she'd be left with Bonzo and Jimmy.

It wasn't like she didn't like either man. It would just, it was an uncomfortable thought. She didn't know them too well. Bonzo had literally just come back from the dead. If she stayed… She'd feel like she was getting in the way of a long overdue reunion rather than bonding with people she'd be trapped with.

"Well, I suppose you're right on that," Robert said as he looked at her with a smile. "But," he began as he put a hand on her thigh, "I'll only go if you agree to go with me. A pretty girl like you will distract the paparazzi from an old man like me." He had a toothy grin on his face that she couldn't say no to, one that showed off his missing tooth.

Her gut told her to say no. Calypso could already tell exactly what Robert was thinking about. It was a ploy for him to buy her more clothing. That was something that made her a bit uncomfortable. Having things paid for by other people just wasn't something she was used to. Could she really manage to get the word no out of her mouth, though?

"Well, of course I'll go," she said with a bright smile. Her face didn't show a single sign of her internal fight. She'd regret it later, give the look he gave her, but now wasn't the time to worry.

#the song remains the same #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction

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zodiacal-dust-and-curls · 6 years

Text

Meant to Be

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: None that I can think of. Let me know if you see any!

A/N: I hope y’all are ready. This is a little ridiculous, but I had fun writing it. The reader’s character has a name! But her perspective will be in second person and physical description will be vague. (Sorry, I needed a pretty distinct name for this.)

Thank you to @im-justatrashcan for the request and as always a big thank you to my proof-reader and PSM @mollymarymarie

All your life, you’d had the name ‘Ben Jones’ written in black ink on the inside of your wrist. A common place for a soulmark, really. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it. Including the name.

It was very frustrating, honestly. It had exhausted you since you were thirteen and everyone else started meeting their soulmates left and right, literally. You’d watched both of your best friends, at the ripe old age of 15, turn opposite directions and bump into their soulmates. From that day forward, their marks had been so beautifully colored and their soulmates never too far away.

But ‘Ben Jones’? That was like finding a needle in a haystack. Your wrist might as well have said ‘John Smith’. It haunted you.

By the midpoint of senior year, ninety percent of your schoolmates had found their other halves and you were still alone.

Then one day, in early 2012, you noticed something. Your mark no longer said ‘Ben Jones’. It now read ‘Ben Hardy’ and you felt like life was just about to get more complicated.

Ben had always wondered how he’d meet you, the mysterious ‘Cheyenne Williams’. Tattooed on his tricep, destined to be his forever. Just from your name, he could tell you weren’t English.

It excited him. He always wondered where life would take him, and he knew for sure he’d get to travel at least part of the world.

Growing up, he was never too concerned with meeting his soulmate. Lots of his friends met theirs between 13 and 18. But it never seemed to bother him. He knew he’d find you one day. It certainly seemed like it wouldn’t be anywhere near his home.

When he started his career, he worried about you being able to find him. He had to change his name, there was just no way around it. Even if it was just a stage name, it would still be the easiest way to recognize him.

He worried over something else, too. Because of his career choice, he’d need to cover his mark. It felt like he was hiding you from the world. Even though he hadn’t met you, he never wanted you to think he could be ashamed of you. That just wasn’t true. He just didn’t want anyone to lie to him and use your name to hurt either of you. It was hard to explain your motives to someone you still hadn’t met.

You were the only one that noticed the change in your mark. As long as the first word was ‘Ben’ and it was still black, no one else really seemed to care. Which, helped you avoid a lot of trouble, honestly.

You really had to fight the urge to google the new name. The development had you stuck somewhere between worry and wonder. Worry for your soulmate’s safety, could something have happened to him? Wonder for yourself, had anyone else ever had their mark change?

The best course of action was to not call any attention to it. You didn’t want to become a case study. There was absolutely no one that would be helped by that. Well, out of the people you were truly concerned for (yourself and your soulmate), no one would probably be helped.

Years after the change, only your mother and best friend had noticed. It took them months to see any difference at all, and it wasn’t the mark that caught their eye. It was your demeanor. The girl with a slightly bitter heart and too many choices had finally seemed hopeful. It threw each of them for a loop, but they’d each asked as curiosity got the best of them.

One day in 2016, your best friend, Tyler, convinced you to see a movie with her. She seemed really excited about it. She said it was going to restart the X-Men franchise and give rise to a whole new generation of superheroes. With all her excitement about the film, you couldn’t say no.

That’s how you found yourself transfixed on the pouty blond angel only a few minutes into the movie. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you felt like you’d seen him before. Somewhere. . . But where?

To say that Ben was a little disappointed that he didn’t find you while shooting his first American film wouldn’t be incorrect. He tried to reassure himself that he’d only seen a small part of the country during pre- and post-production, and there would be plenty more to see later. His career was just starting, really.

There was still plenty of time.

Oh my God. Was that really him? You were so glad that Tyler had run to the restroom immediately after the post-credit scene. You needed to talk yourself out of this. Now.

There was no way your soulmate was an actor. Let alone one that had acted alongside some of your favorites. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? What am I gonna d-

“Chy? You look a little lost there. Are you okay?” Tyler was back. Oh man, this could be really bad.

“I’m fine, Ty.” You smiled at her, storing all your thoughts away to freak out over later. “Let’s go get dinner, yeah? That movie was crazy long.”

With a roll of her eyes, she agreed. “Leave it to my bestie, with the freaky Mark, excuse me, the mutant Mark, to have that look on her face because she’s hungry.”

You just stuck your tongue out at her and promised yourself that you would check his IMDB later for interviews. Maybe life would be interesting after all.

By mid 2018, Ben still hadn’t met you. He felt like he’d traveled a fair bit. Met new and exciting people. But you were the only person he was just dying to meet.

Okay, maybe that had changed for a hot minute in 2017. He was cast to play a living legend. Could you really blame him for wanting to meet Roger Taylor (the drummah from Queen)?

Ben decided you could probably let that slide. It was just one small request on his growing pile of things to ask forgiveness for.

Hopefully, the upcoming press tour would help him out.

Except that he wouldn’t be going on the American leg of the tour (all the boys had agreed that the name was definitely American, more than likely Southern) due to work. Fate, what game were you playing?

Stalking may have been a tad excessive to describe the ferocity with which you watched a certain Mr. Hardy from that fateful day in the movie theater to now.

You’d looked up several of his interviews, especially any that mentioned his mark, or rather lack thereof. He never brought it up on his own and always seemed ready to deflect with some other comment when asked. There was no way he was your soulmate. He clearly was just one of the UnMarked and wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

It hadn’t even shown up in any of the candids or BTS content you’d seen. He just didn’t have one. It was that simple.

That didn’t stop you though. You still managed to see all his projects. The latest one seemed promising. He was set to play Roger Taylor, yes the Roger Taylor your own mother was in love with as a young girl, and they would even have a press tour stop close to your home town.

Ty had, of course, figured everything out that first day and encouraged you to chase it.

(“He could just be a really private person, Chy. What if he covered it up to protect you?

“Right Ty, I’m sure that’s exactly what some English actor that knows nothing about me did.”

Tyler just narrowed her eyes at you, wishing you would regain a little of the hopefulness you’d had back when the change had happened. “I’m right. Just you wait.”

“I certainly will wait, but don’t expect me to hold my breath.”)

So, you and Tyler had made plans to go to the stop. It could be fun, and maybe you’d finally know if she was right.

“Cheyenne Montgomery Williams, get out of the bathroom or you are gonna miss the whole thing. Jeez.” Ty screamed through the door at you. What were you even doing here? He wouldn’t be here and you knew he didn’t have a mark. He’d never confirm that in interviews, but you just knew it.

“First of all, that’s not my name and you know it.” You pushed the door open with enough force to bump Ty back a little and leveled her with a narrowed glare. “Secondly, so what if I missed the whole thing? He isn’t here.”

“Excuse me?” You heard a voice come from your side. “What did you say your name was?”

You looked in the direction of the voice and released Ty from your stare. “I didn’t. She -,” you used your head to gesture to Ty, hands still poised on your hips and stopped. Joe Mazzello was looking at you with a ridiculous amount of glee in his eyes.

Ben’s phone buzzed from beside him. It was late evening in Rome, where he was filming his newest project.

Joey: Oh, Benny Boy. You aren’t going to believe this.

Benny Boy: Believe what?

Joey: On second thought, I’ve decided not to tell you.

Yet.

When will you be able to visit me in the states?

Ben just shook his head. He was sure Joe had good motives, but all he wanted to do after this film was go home and sleep for a few days. He missed his bed and his Frankie.

Benny Boy: We talked about this.

I’m going to go home for a bit. I can come visit you in December.

Joey: That’s so far awayyyyy.

But I shall wait for you.

Until then, Jonesy.

JM: Are you ready?

The CW: Nope.

JM: Perfect. It’s showtime.

You had just pulled up to the shop Joe had been bothering you about. The man loved donuts and apparently these were the best in Dallas. It was a bit too far from your hometown for you to be overly familiar with the area, but you allowed Joe his indulgences.

It was weird to think that you got a celebrity’s phone number. Much less for such innocent reasons. He really did just want to check on you and figure out who you were before he introduced you to Ben. There was a good chance Joe was more nervous than you were.

“Mate, why am I filming you eat this donut?” It was the one question Ben felt Joe could actually answer. It wasn’t the only question he had, just the only one he thought he could get an answer to.

“It’s going to be transcendent.” Joe fixed his gaze on the prize in his hand, which was possibly the shiniest donut Ben had ever seen. “ Just shut up and point the camera at my face, Jonesy.”

“Really, Joe? Is that anyway to treat your friend?” Ben could have sworn he’d heard that voice before. It sounded like home, but with a drawl.

“Really, Joe? Is that anyway to treat your friend?” You smiled at Joe over the blond head in front of him.

“You know what, Chy? I think it is.” He couldn’t help but grin back at you. “Besides, this one,” he gestured to the man seated in front of him, “has kept the both of us waiting long enough. Don’t you think?”

It seemed like it took him an eternity to turn around and face you. But when he did, you couldn’t look away. Those eyes, the same ones you’d seen all those years ago projected in front of you, were even more breathtaking in person. The mouth that you’d watched form countless words in dozens of interviews, was right there and you waited for it to move.

“I think you’re absolutely right, Joey.” But you couldn’t tear your gaze from Ben. He was here. He was real. It was finally time to see if Ty was right.

“Cheyenne?” He breathed out with a sense of wonder, as if trying your name for the first time.

“Cheyenne?” Ben couldn’t believe this was what Joe had been hiding from him for 2 months. It was you. He found you, the only thing that was still missing from his life.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Ben.” Your voice was like music to his ears, especially when you said his name. He didn’t think he could ever get tired of the sound.

He had honestly never tried to imagine you, and he’s very glad he didn’t. Whatever he would have dreamed up wouldn’t have been as good as what was standing in front of him now.

Hesitantly, Ben stepped toward this astonishing woman that was meant to be his. Joe was basically forgotten behind him as Ben moved in to hug you.

The next thing you knew the two of you were moving towards each other. You reached out and hooked your right forearm behind his left shoulder and pulled Ben to you.

Distantly, you could hear Joe cheering. Two of his new favorite people were finally together. First contact had been made. It was finally time to see if Ty and Joe were both right or if they’d just been feeding you false hope all these years (and months).

But he didn’t intervene immediately. Joe let the two of you lose yourselves in the embrace. You were grateful for that. After 20+ years of waiting, at times not so patiently, you felt like you’d finally found your home.

“Okay, lovebirds. You don’t have to completely disentangle, but there’s something I gotta see.” Ah, Joe. He’d waited as long as he possibly could. But Ben supposed he was owed this. To be the first to see his colored Mark.

Ben felt a little wistful for not taking a minute to admire it in the mirror this morning. He wished he would have known that he’d never see the familiar black script on his skin again. It had been replaced with some vibrant color. He was sure of it, and the possibilities of the new discovery left him a little giddy.

Slowly, Ben pulled you to his right and twisted his left arm forward. Sure enough, there in a jeweled red was the name he’d been looking at all his life. But now he had new hope attached to it.

Joe was possibly the most impatient person you knew at this moment. All you wanted to do was hang on to Ben a little longer. You weren’t ready for reality to come crashing down on you.

Ben slowly pulled you to your left and started to twist his arm.

You decided it was time to take the plunge and glanced down at your right wrist. There in a striking red was his name.

The sight brought tears to your eyes. You thought this day would never come. You thought that Fate had been playing a cruel trick on your whole life. But here it was. Living proof.

“Oh. love. Don’t cry.” Ben heard a sniffle come from your direction. He paused his celebrating to take care of his soulmate. He really could get used to that, his soulmate. “What’s wrong?”

“I just,” you were still fighting tears in the little shop, “I just never thought this day would actually come.”

To hear that broke Ben’s heart. He had always justified his actions to himself (hiding his mark, deflecting in interviews, letting Roger Taylor take your spot as the #1 person he wanted to meet) and now it was time to justify them to you.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Ben rested his forehead against your own. “We can go talk somewhere private.” His voice had softened and taken on a concerned undertone.

“That sounds good. Let’s go.” You waved towards Joe and blew him a kiss. You could see the excitement on his face for the both of you. He was a good friend, truly. You’d have to find a way to thank him for putting the two of you together.

Ben was so relieved that you took him to a park towards the outskirts of the big city. He preferred to think and talk while moving, It helped him focus.

“So I’m sure I owe you some explanations.” He began. He made sure to loop your arm with his not wanting you to get too far away or for his voice to get so loud that passers-by would hear your conversation.

“Yeah, just two really.” He was shocked that you agreed with him. Most of the soulmates he’d seen were so instantly in love, he wasn’t ready for any push back.

“Which one would you like first, love?” If there were two you wanted now, he wanted to be sure they were the ones you wanted and not the ones he thought were most important.

“Why did my Mark change?” That . . . may have stopped him in his tracks a little.

“Your Mark . . .changed?” He was a little confused. He’d never heard of Marks changing.

“Yeah. One day it said ‘Ben Jones’ and the next it said ‘Ben Hardy’. I always worried that something bad happened.” You looked up at him and back down quickly before admitting the next bit. “I may have googled you after X-Men came out and found out that it’s just your stage name.”

Ben wracked his brain for an answer to that one. “I don’t know about that one, but we can figure it out together.” He smiled at you.

“The next one is why haven’t you admitted to having a Mark?” There it was. His biggest fear to have to explain to you. Of course, you would want to know. It probably would have gotten you together faster if he’d just made it public information.

Ben stopped and pulled you closer to him with a hand on either side of your face.

“That was the hardest decision I’d ever had to make.” He looked so sad as he met your eyes. “I wanted to protect you, and myself. I wanted this life and career. I made this choice. You didn’t.”

“Are you joking?” You blinked, a little dumbfounded. “I am never going to hear the end of this from Ty.” You shook your head and grabbed his wrists to pull his hands away from your face.

“Let’s see it then.” You fully met his eyes, a new determination in your own.

“Well, alright.” Ben gave you a cocky smile and turned around to pull his sleeve so that you could see your own name in a startling blood red on his skin. “What do you think?”

Before you could respond, you reached out and ran your hand from his elbow to his shoulder following the path your name made. “It’s incredible.”

Ben had just watched your face and taken in the quiet astonishment that played across it. He could never have guessed that you really thought this day would never come.

Quickly, he fixed his shirt sleeve and turned back to face you. “Can I see yours?” He asked quietly.

You extended your wrist out towards Ben and he took it carefully, almost as if you would break. He brought himself around to stand next to her so that he could read his own name appropriately.

“I can’t believe it’s really there.” He took in the wine red stain on your wrist that was his name and rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along it. “Ben Hardy. Who would’ve thought that it would change to my stage name?” He asked mostly to himself.

“I certainly didn’t, but I’m so glad it did.” You placed your hand on top of where his thumb was tracing your Mark and gave him a genuine smile. The one you got in return was absolutely blinding.

“I guess Fate decided that we were meant to be.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! See y’all sometime next week. I’m going to go be murdered by these two tests. Have a good day, lovelies!

Taglist: @rogers-wristbands @deakydeckme

#ben hardy X reader #ben hardy fluff #soulmate au #ben hardy imagine #borhap imagine #t writes #this was longer than i expected #sorry y'all #also im a ho for smily ben #he deserves to be happy #joe is fine #he's a big boy with a car #he did not get stranded

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redhairdontcare732 · 5 years

Text

Sometimes it Snows in April

Author’s Note:

Hello lovely people! I have been staring at this chapter for over a week now, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it but here we are! Please feel free to leave a like or a comment if you enjoyed it!

_Chapter 2: _

Bea's POV:

As we exited Southside high I couldn't help but find myself super amused and proud at the annoyance radiating from Jughead. It'd been way too long since I was able to get under his skin, and honestly it was one of the things I'd missed most about my beanie-clad counterpart. Growing up we were something closer to twins than cousins, and even though we had a hell of a lot of catching up to do, it was safe to say I was pleased to discover that some things never change. I hoped as he found out more and more about my life away from Riverdale that we could somehow maintain this bond we shared.

I smiled at him lightly, wiggling my eyebrows. His frown faltered for a second as he chuckled at the stupid face I pulled before he rolled his eyes and frowned once more.

“You know I don't know why it was so important that we go see dad now”, he grumbled as we reached our bikes.

“Oh please, as if any normal high school kid wouldn't love an excuse to skip classes”, I retorted while grabbing my helmet. “Never knew you'd turn out to be such a goody-goody Juggie”.

If it was even possible, his glare deepened as he placed his own helmet on his head. I sighed, hesitating before placing my own on my head.

“Okay you want the truth Jug?”, I asked, tone softer than before. He raised his eyebrows, bobbing his head silently and shrugging his shoulders in irritation, as if to say “duh”. I exhaled through my nose noisily, weight shifting slightly between my feet as a feeling of anxiety overwhelmed me.

“I spent the whole morning thinking about what I can even say to him. About how I'm going to have to answer questions I don't have good answers for, and tell stories I'd rather never bring up. Right after you and Betty left I tossed and turned in the bed that smelled just like his old cologne, coming up with excuses not to see him. I swear, if I wouldn't have come and gotten you now I would've given in and bolted”, I babbled, hands shaking slightly with my admission. Watching how Jughead’s face smoothed and how his eyes turned soft I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. I was extremely uncomfortable with the amount of information that I'd just blurted out, and I internally panicked as I realized how much I'd actually let slip. I shifted my weight again, eyes cast anywhere but Jug's pitying look.

“Bea…”, he started as he inched closer to my bike.

“It's okay Juggie”, I pacified while sending a small smile his way. His brows furrowed slightly in concern, and he continued to inch closer to me until he was next to me. He placed his hand on my arm gently, fingers giving a small squeeze of reassurance.

“You know we aren't going to make you tell us anything you aren't ready for right?”, he asked. His green eyes, a mirror to my own, were looking directly at me, full of sincerity without a trace of amusement or deceit. It was in that moment, when I stared my cousin in the face and truly looked at him after so many years apart, that I felt something tight within my chest loosen. It relaxed something in me, just a little bit. The knot of doubt and uncertainty didn't leave me completely, as I assumed it never would, but I found myself feeling more comfortable than I'd felt in a long while. I exhaled deeply through my nose, a smile creasing my features that was more genuine than I think I'd managed in a long time.

“Thank you Juggie”, I murmured, pulling the beanie clad boy in for a firm hug. He wrapped his arms around me protectively like he used to when we were kids, holding me just as tightly. We stood like that for a few moments before pulling away. I smiled at my cousin once more before we silently hopped on our bikes, heading off in the direction of the jail.

As I sat in the wildly uncomfortable plastic chairs the sheriff's office provided for visitors I felt the familiar restriction circle around in my chest like a fat cat looking for a spot to lay. My knee bounced uncomfortably, and I felt my palms begin to sweat as I waited for my uncle to come out. Jughead sat next to me, and though I wasn't looking at him I could tell that he was staring at me. He could look all he wanted, but my face would remain an impassive mask. My ability to hide my true feelings had always served me well, and now was no exception. After a few minutes of this charade I turned to look my cousin in the face, rolling my eyes as I did so.

“I’m fine Jug. Just hoping I don’t shock Jonesy into an early grave; he has no idea I’m even still alive, let alone here”, I chuckled, only half kidding. Now it was Jughead’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Relax. Can’t be worse than being caught in your underwear by an intruding long lost relative”, he said sarcastically. I grinned at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh please, you should be so lucky. I keep your life interesting”, I giggled. Jughead opened his mouth to respond, but before he could FP walked out and took his seat across the plated glass. I felt my heart jump into my throat at the sight of him. Largely he looked exactly as I remembered him, although maybe a bit more tired and grey. His face showed an array of emotions, but the most prominent was ultimately confusion. I felt a small tug on my heart when I realized he didn't recognize me. It was probably fair though; of the three of us I had definitely changed the most.

“Jug, who's this?”, he asked immediately, head cocking towards me for emphasis.

“Dad--”, Jughead started.

“Hi Jonesy. Been a while”, I interrupted, smiling lightly. I watched with amusement and a slight bit of nervous energy as I took in his reaction. I knew as soon as I called him that he'd figure out who I was; I was the one who come up with the nickname when I was 3, and I was pretty certain I was the only one to call him by it. I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to wrap his brain around what he was seeing and hearing. I watched in interest as it clicked for him, his charcoal eyes sparking with recognition.

“Baby Bea?”, he practically whispered. I smiled in reassurance.

“It's me Jonesy. I'm back”, I murmured through the cheap plastic phone. FP looked as if he were going to cry, and opened and shut his mouth several times without ever really saying anything. I chuckled, ignoring the wetness I felt pricking at my eyes.

“Oh come on old man, you're not going soft on me are you? Even Juggie didn't cry when he figured it out!”, I joked. FP snorted, hastily wiping his face and shaking his head.

“Soft? What are you kidding? You do see where I'm sitting right?”, he shot back teasingly. I laughed as a feeling of contentment ran through me. This was the uncle I remembered; quick, sarcastic, and never taking anything too seriously.

“What are you doing here Bea?”, he asked, expression becoming solemn once more. The contentment I felt dissipated quickly and fear took its place. I knew this was coming, but for all my preparation I still hadn’t come up with a good answer for him. I sighed, turning to Jughead for support.

“I heard through the grapevine that you were in trouble, and I wanted to come and see what I could do”, I answered softly. FP shook his head slightly and scoffed.

“Is that right?”, he asked, tone somewhat cold. “So it takes me getting locked up for you to decide to waltz back into Riverdale? Don’t be doing me any favors kid”.

I looked down to my lap briefly in a futile attempt to hide the way my eyes filled with tears at his response. Although I’d expected this kind of reaction, and though it was fair for him to feel this way it didn’t make the knot in my chest any less suffocating at the moment. I was filled with self-loathing with the knowledge that I’d hurt one of the only people I could actually call my family. I took a steadying breath before looking back at my uncle and speaking.

“Well I haven’t exactly had the easiest go of things either Jonesy”, I muttered. “You and Jug would actually be doing me a favor by giving me a place to crash for a while”. His eyes softened, and he blew a breath out of his nose noisily before leaning back in his chair.

“Bea, you know you’re always welcome with us, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...where have you been kid?”, he asked, voice decidedly less icy than before. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could reply Jughead’s hand came to rest on my shoulder in a show of support.

“Dad, Bea isn’t ready to tell us everything just yet. Maybe we can give her time to adjust? Ya know, process?”, he questioned firmly. I turned to send him a grateful look, and he nodded once at me in recognition. FP looked between the two of us for a few seconds before running a hand through his long, dark locks.

“Of course kid. I’m never gonna make you tell me something you aren’t comfortable with, you know that. But you’ve gotta give me something Bea; I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out where you were”, he answered finally. In that moment I swear he looked about 80 years older than he was; his eyes had deep wrinkles surrounding them and dark bags underneath them that made him look more tired than I could fathom. His beard was laced with grey and white, and I felt my heart drop to my stomach with the realization that I was probably part of the reason that he looked so exhausted. I sighed once more, steadying myself.

“Well, you know how Johnny is. He found out that you and Gladys were trying to take me away from him, and he was having none of that. So he snatched me up in the middle of the night and packed me into the truck. I was so confused, I was half asleep and he didn’t even let me pack anything. I had no clothes, no toys, nothing. He drove me around for days and days; it was so long I started to believe we were going to live out of his truck forever. And we pretty much did, until it finally broke down in St. Paul, Minnesota. We drifted around, couch hopping and staying in some meth addled fuck or another's house for a while”, I explained calmly, though my fists began clenching unconsciously at the memory. “I really wasn't too keen on that whole life, so I ditched him when I was 13. After that I was just roaming around and trying to learn how to survive on my own. Which, I gotta say I think I do pretty well, considering. That was my whole life up until yesterday, when I found an old Serpent by chance; he mentioned that you were in trouble, so I hopped on my bike right away and came”, I explained calmly.

I looked FP right in the eyes as I spoke, hoping that neither he nor Jug noticed the way my hands were slightly trembling from the tense way I'd been clenching them. Jughead still had his hand on my shoulder comfortingly; I could feel his eyes boring into me, but I kept mine focused on Jonesy. He, much like me, had an expression of cool indifference; but I could tell on the inside he was seething. His already dark brown eyes turned nearly black as he listened, and I knew he was thinking if all the ways he could hurt my father for what he did. All the ways he could make him suffer, make sure he was sorry for taking me away from the only family I really had. I knew that look because it was one I used to wear often.

“Bea…”, Jughead asked softly, pulling my attention away from my dissection of FP's expression. When I turned to look I was met with the polar opposite emotions radiating from my normally brooding cousin. His green eyes were flush with unshed tears, and he looked so sorrowful I instantly regretted giving up as much information as I had. If I could, I would kick myself for causing him to feel this way.

“Why didn't you ever try to come back before now?”, he questioned in a tone so quiet I almost had to crane my neck closer to hear it. I inhaled slowly, thinking carefully on how to word my response.

“It's because of him isn't it?”, FP spat practically through his teeth. “Johnny sold you some bullshit about us, didn't he?”.

I swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Yeah. He told me you guys wanted me out. That you were sick of having me around and that I was a burden to him and to you. Only according to him at the time, he was ‘legally obligated’ to stick with me”, I chuckled coldly, eyes rolling. It was true, Johnny was a piece of shit. Lucky for me he was also a shit liar, so I'd always known the truth. Though it wasn't really the reason I hadn't been back, agreeing with Jonesy was easier than explaining the truth, and technically not a lie on my part. The Jones boys weren't ready for the full tragic backstory from me anyways.

“That fucking trash. I should've taken you when I had the chance”, FP growled, hand slamming down on the table roughly.

“Dad”, Jughead warned as the officer standing nearby eyed the three of us suspiciously. FP glanced at the guard before running a hand through his hair once more and taking a steadying breath.

“Jonesy, I’m okay. Really”, I soothed. He looked up at me; his eyes were still slightly wild with anger, but the look was slowly fading in favor of a much stronger emotion. Guilt.

“Bea, you know that was never true, right?”, he asked quietly. I smiled lightly.

“I know that, I do”, I replied genuinely. FP’s dark eyes bored into my own, searching for any indication that what I said wasn’t true. I stared back and tried to convey my sincerity through my eyes. After what felt like forever, FP leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with my response. I let out a breath of relief and turned to look at Jughead for a moment, smiling.

“So. What’s new with you guys?”, I joked lightly.

“Hey girl, what’s up?.

“Hey chiquita linda”.

Familiar voices greeting me from their places inside the Wyrm were the first thing I heard as I walked into the dingy bar. Topaz was positioned behind the bar and Fangs lounged on a stool near to his pink-haired friend. Large smile plastered on my face, I immediately strode up to the stool next to his and took a seat.

“What’s up guys?”, I questioned as I settled in, already comfortable around the pair of young serpents. In the last week or two I’d quickly developed friendships with both Fangs and Toni. Since I didn’t go to school and I hadn’t yet found a job, I had little else to do but hang out at the Wyrm with them. Additionally, I really had missed the dingy bar I fondly recalled from my childhood. The Wrym hadn't changed much; same old stools, same pool tables with patches of felt missing here or there, and the same old serpents milling around comfortably in one of the only places they had to themselves. I couldn’t help the wave of nostalgia that overtook me each time I entered, and I was loving the fact that Topaz worked here enough that I had ample excuses to stop by.

“I get off work soon, which cannot come quick enough. It's dead as fuck in here”, Toni complained as she wiped the greasy countertop with an equally greasy-looking rag before leaning an elbow on it.

“Hey, I'm here”, Fangs pouted, lower lip sticking out playfully. Toni rolled her eyes as I chuckled.

“We should be so blessed”, I teased. Fangs placed a hand over his chest dramatically feigning hurt.

“You guys wound me”, he replied, eyes full of mirth.

“Anyways, you want a drink Bea? It's on the house”, Toni interjected, attention turning back to me. I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well I would hope water's on the house”, I joked, semi seriously.

“Seriously, get whatever you want girl. Hog Eye just assumes I give people free shit anyways so you might as well take advantage”, she said, tone more serious than before. Her perfectly sculpted brows were raised in concern, and underneath her fan of dark lashes her eyes were sparkling with sincerity. I waved a hand in dismissal. It was the same fight we'd had many times since I'd barreled my way into her life, and I always got my way. Topaz thought I was refusing drinks because I didn't have the money, but the truth was I just chose not to drink alcohol. It's not like I hadn't before, I just didn't like the way it made me feel. The few times I had gotten well and truly loaded I was always faced with the gut-wrenching feeling like I was turning into my father-- a thought which never failed to make me sick to my stomach and shame spiral for days on end. It was a rough lesson to learn, but boy did I learn fast. No it was better to just avoid alcohol all together. Lucky for me, it seemed like Toni assumed if she offered me free drinks long enough that I would one day accept. Fine by me, as I knew I never would, and was thankful for the excuse not to get into all my business with my new friends just yet.

“Seriously TT, I just came to sit and shoot shit with you two and maybe play some pool. Water is fine”, I replied firmly. My tone wasn't unkind, but I knew the way I'd said it had left no room for further discussion. Toni sighed and went to grab me my glass. Fangs shrugged lightly, hand tapping his own glass in indication.

“If she won't take you up Topaz I will”, he said hopefully. His brown eyes were alight with mischief as he gave Toni what I could only describe as a puppy-dog face.

“In your dreams Fogarty”, Toni sassed as she passed me my water. His face fell slightly and he leaned back in his seat and grumbled inaudible gripes.

I laughed and stirred the straw in my glass absentmindedly; it made me giggle whenever I watched the pair in front of me interact. I hadn't known either of them for long, but I already felt as if I fit into their dynamic pretty well. Topaz was a fiery, sarcastic badass and I loved her for it. She and I got along instantly when I'd met her at Southside High that day last week, and I'd already declared her my best friend. Fangs and I clicked pretty quickly as well, although it took me a bit longer to warm up to him. His shameless attempts at flirting had made me weary at first, but it didn't take me long to figure out that it was just who he was. Underneath his badass, womanizing facade Fangs was actually a secret sweetheart. He was caring, loyal, and funny; I had learned to love the goofy serpent at face value and not take his awkward attempts at flirting too seriously.

“Seriously though Bea, you sure you're good?”, Toni asked seriously once more from behind the bar.

“Give it up Topaz, you know Badass Bea doesn't drink”, I heard a deep sarcastic voice from behind me interject before I could reply. I rolled my eyes, instantly recognizing the now familiar voice.

“Well with the way you do, I figure I should try and help conserve some. You know, so Riverdale doesn't experience a shortage”, I quipped, not even turning around before I did. Just as expected, a certain tall, brooding serpent approached the three of us, empty bottle in hand. Sweet Pea sat down on Fangs’ other side and tipped the bottle lightly, indicating to Toni that he needed another beer. I smiled lightly in greeting and winked at him, causing the dark haired boy to roll his eyes in exasperation.

Sweet Pea was the one serpent that I hadn’t really connected to yet. He wasn’t outwardly aggressive or anything, I just got the feeling that he was holding me at arms length. While Toni and Fangs joked around with me easily, Pea’s comments always had an undercurrent of some emotion I couldn’t quite place, and his deep brown eyes seemed to swirl with indecision each time we spoke. Toni mentioned that Sweets was more closed off than she or Fangs, but I was determined to become friends with the tall serpent. Each day I felt myself breaking down more and more of his tense exterior, and we’d even progressed to the point that he would actually smile or laugh around me.

“No offense, just don’t get why you even come to the bar if you aren’t going to drink”, he shrugged after a while, seemingly unaffected by my comment. I chuckled lightly but sent daggers his way with my eyes.

“For the pleasure of your cheerful company of course Sweetest Pea”, I replied daintily. He rolled his eyes, but smirked nonetheless.

I smiled widely as I took in his reaction, a smile that quickly faded as he turned my way and I was able to fully see his face. I hadn’t been able to see his entire face before because of how we were seated and the way that one black curl of his always seemed to be strewn lazily across his forehead. Now that the entirety of his profile was visible I noted with horror the large black and blue bruises that decorated his strong features. The tall boy’s chiseled jaw was littered with small purple patches here or there-- which I had learned was not exactly out of the ordinary for him given his temper--but the most concerning mark was over his left eye. His entire socket was covered in a yellowish purple bruise that looked as if it was a few days healed at least. I’d seen more than my fair share of black eyes, and been the proud owner of enough myself to know when they were fresh, and his most certainly was not. My eyebrows knitted together with concern, and I quickly hopped up from my seat to take the one next to Sweet Pea. He quirked an eyebrow at my odd reaction, but didn’t say anything. I grabbed his chin in my hands--my brain not missing how strange it was to see how tiny his giant face made my hands seem-- and turned his face so I could appraise his injury more closely.

“What the hell Bea”, he snapped, head ducking out of my hold and giant hand striking out, grabbing both my wrists easily with just one of his own.

“What the hell is right”, I retaliated. “What the fuck happened to your face?”.

“Girl don’t be mean, you know he was just born that way”, Toni chuckled from behind the bar, causing Fangs to howl with laughter and Sweet Pea to use his free hand to flip her off. Not even turning to acknowledge her comment, I shot Sweets an expectant look. He grumbled lowly, and I raised an eyebrow once more to indicate my lack of understanding.

“I said, don't worry about it. Just a rumble with some asshole northsiders”, he growled lowly, dark eyes boring into mine.

“Northsiders?”, I questioned softly, eyes never leaving his. His brown eyes darkened even more if it were possible, and he turned his attention away from me and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that insane redhead and his Bulldog militia came over this way and waved a gun in our faces. So we went looking for him, and ended up squaring off with him and his dumbass buddies”, Fangs explained.

“And got their asses kicked”, Toni snickered from behind a bar.

“Screw you Topaz we did not”, Pea barked, grip tightening on my wrists unconsciously. I looked down at my hands that were encased in his large tanned grip, unable to help but notice how light his touch had been up until now. Just by looking at him I would've bet money that his hands were hard and calloused, but surprisingly they were soft and gentle. He too looked down at our hands before releasing me and bringing his own hands to his sides quickly. I noted with slight confusion that his neck tinted red as he did so, and my attention was momentarily torn from the current conversation. Did I embarrass him by bringing up his black eye? He didn't seem the type to worry about his battle scars, but maybe he really did get his ass kicked and was salty about it.

“We would've destroyed those mangy Bulldogs if Andrew's girlfriend wouldn't have brought her gun”, he continued, pulling me back from my mental musings. Though I was sure the comment was directed at me, he refused to meet my gaze, and chose to glare harshly at TT as he spoke instead.

“Wait, Andrews?”, I asked confused. “As in Archie Andrews?”.

Sweet Pea's eyes snapped up to my face, eyes swirling with unreadable emotion and lips curled into what I could only describe as a snarl.

“Yeah Andrews”, he seethed through his teeth. My brows furrowed deeper in confusion and doubt.

“Okay there's gotta be some kind of mix up, because there is no way that doofy little Archie fucking Andrews is the guy you've been bitching about since literally the day I got here”, I drawled. My eyes darted from one member of the young serpent trio to the next, brows lifted in suspicion. Sweet Pea scoffed, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“I knew it. I knew you were just as much a Northside poser as your pathetic cousin”, he spat, chuckling humorlessly. I felt my body puff up indignantly, and I crossed my arms tersely and stood up to stand next to Sweet Pea’s stool; even my full height to his sitting form, Pea was still significantly taller than me. If I weren’t so pissed I might have laughed at the idea of my relatively shorter frame squared up with the giant boy in front of me.

“All I meant was that I grew up with Archie and that I don’t think that it’s possible for that sweet little moron to have done any of those things. I mean I know I haven’t seen him in a while, but let's be honest, Archie was never the sharpest crayon in the box so I’m just surprised he could mastermind any of that”, I snapped harshly. “But now that you mention it, I’m getting real tired of the whole ‘Northside vs. Southside’ bullshit. I haven’t even been here a month and I’m already sick of hearing you bitch about it. I haven’t ever even lived on the Northside, nor would it matter if I had. So I suggest you drop the whole marginalized rebel act around me Pea because I promise you I’m not the one”.

Sweet Pea’s expression went from one near amusement as I stepped up to him to one of utter annoyance and anger as I spoke. He stood as well, large frame towering over mine and face leaning in close to mine. As he got closer I couldn’t help but mentally appraise his features; his eyes were dark as I’d ever seen with anger, his neck flushed a bit with a rosy color, and his lips curled into the most devilish smirk I’d ever witnessed. Thank God I was pissed at the moment, because if not I might have internally swooned over his handsome features.

“Sorry if it bothers you sweetheart”, he sneered. “I just call it like I see it, and as I see it you are just as much of a Northside asshole as your precious Andrews. Who gave me this shiner by the way”, he sneered, pointing up to his eye. I narrowed my eyes into what I’m certain were nearly slits, and I stepped closer to him, practically daring him to do something.

“Well, sweetheart--”, I spat. “I call it like I see it too, and as far as I can see Topaz was right. You did get your ass kicked by a bunch of Northsiders, and on top of it all by Archie motherfucking Andrews. I mean come on, I once made the kid cry because I shoved mud in his face and he ran and tattled to FP about it”.

Sweet Pea’s face flushed even more at my comment, brows furrowing even deeper if it were possible. I never let my furious gaze waver from his dark stare; backing down from confrontation had never been my strong suit, and though it was widely known that Pea had a temper I could promise these Serpents hadn’t seen anything yet. I wasn’t as physically intimidating as the dark-haired boy, but nonetheless he was about to learn exactly how stubborn I was. If their facial expressions were any indication, Fangs and Toni were evidently catching on. Momentarily breaking my staring contest with Sweets, I glanced at my two new friends. Though TT leaned her face lightly on her arm that rested on the bartop in boredom, the way her eyes tracked our movements and widened at my harsh words betrayed her interest. And Fangs, well. Poor boy was sitting and bouncing his eyes back and forth between his best friend and I like he was watching a tennis match, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear. His deer in the headlights expression was almost enough to make me laugh despite the anger that still coursed through my body.

“So I guess the only question left to ask, is what do I have to do to get you to hop off my dick?”, I finished, eyebrow raising in silent question. “Cause I have no plans of going anyplace anytime soon, and as I said before this whole discussion is getting real old”.

The handsome boy’s eyes flashed with a sudden spark of emotion; to my utter shock, he smiled deviously and chuckled in my face rather than berate me as I expected.

“How about this sweetheart; if you can beat me in a game of pool, I’ll never bring it up to you again. But if I win, actually when I win, you have to deal with whatever I have to say about it, no complaints”, he proposed. His dark eyes danced and gleamed almost playfully as he spoke, causing my brows to furrow in surprise. If I wasn’t careful this guy was going to give me whiplash with his sudden mood swings.

“You’re on”, I growled, hand flying out to shake his. He grasped my hand harshly, pumping it up and down just once before he abruptly turned and made his way to one of the empty pool tables. It was only once he left that I realized just how close we’d gotten in the midst of our argument; as soon as his body left my space the air around me suddenly got cooler, and I shivered unintentionally. Shaking off this strange reaction, I took a deep breath and walked swiftly over to where he was setting up our game.

#sweetpea #sweetpeaxoc #bea jones #riverdale fic #riverdale #archie comics #fangs fogarty #toni topaz #jugheadjones #fp jones #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #oc #southsideserpents #riverdale southside

19 notes · View notes

70slovergirl · 6 years

Text

Jimmy Page Fanfic

Hello, thank you for sticking with me down this road! I have all sorts of plans for this story, so I hope to keep you entertained.

I also wanted to give special thanks to the lovely @ritacaroline. I know my grammar is not great and she was so so nice to offer me help correcting some of my monstrous mistakes. She’s also a really great person overall so thank you for that Rita. I recommend checking out her Jimmy Page Fanfic, it’s called ‘In the Light’ and I’m personally hooked on the story.

P.S. The next chapter involves the concert and I know we all love a good Zep gig!

Chapter 5

There was a ringing that threatened to split my head in two. I’m never drinking again, I thought, cracking my eyes open to find the source of the incessant sound. The room was still heavily disorganized but splendidly bathed in a golden light that suggested it was still early in the day. The noise suddenly ceased, and I slumped back to bed, defeated. Those damn sequins on my dress had dug deeply into my skin, making me itchy and suddenly so uncomfortable that I couldn’t get back to sleep.

And then the strident ring began again.

“For Christ’s sake.” I muttered against the pillow, searching for the cherry-colored telephone on top of the bedside table. “Yes?” My annoyance was clear in my voice when I answered.

“Ms. Rayne, this is the hotel receptionist. You had a call, and the caller said you should get back as soon as possible. The number is here in the lobby, in case you would like to drop by.”

“Yeah, I’ll get back to them after lunch.” I yawned, my eyes already closed from the effort it took to reach for the phone.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Ms. Rayne.” Her stylized, almost robotic voice echoed back at me, and her words ran down my spine like a bucket of icy water.

Shiiiiit.

I literally ran to the bathroom in an effort to speed the process of making myself presentable. As the tap released a shower of warm, therapeutic water, I tried to count in my head the number of shots I had taken last night along with John Bonham, but just couldn’t come up with a plausible one. After that encounter with the aloof Page, I had gone back to the table full of the Zeppelin personnel joining the three remaning members. Whatever happened after that is not exactly clear.

Racing back to my luggage, I rummaged through for something that didn’t require too much thinking. I was supposed to spend Saturday creating a profile on the band members, not sleeping off my colossal hangover. Man, I should be named Employee of the Month. I finally came across a pine colored maxi dress that sported a thin halter neck. I paired it along with some round, orange-tinted glasses to try to hide my bloodshot, hungover eyes, and I was out the door.

My feet followed firstly the trail to the lobby, and I finally placed a face on to the lady whose call had awoken me. She was already busy answering the phone, but happily handed me a piece of paper with a scribbled number. I didn’t recognize the digits, and there was no name nor address whatsoever. Nevertheless, I walked towards the telephone for guest calls and dialed it.

“Hi, this is Venus Rayne, you were trying to reach me?” I greeted as soon as the repeated tone ceased.

“Yes, Ms. Rayne, this is Ben Fong from Rolling Stone Magazine.” I burst out laughing, doubling over and holding my stomach.

“Yeah right, that’s a good one.” Giggling, I tried muffling the sound as I had gotten dirty looks from some guests hanging around. “Listen dude, I have a massive hangover, and this is certainly not helping.”

“Mr. Callaghan must’ve given me the wrong number. Are you not a journalist for Muse?”

Oh fuck.

“Uhhh, yeah. Yes, I mean.” I facepalmed myself, begging the earth to swallow me whole.

“…Great. Listen, you’re with Led Zeppelin for the weekend, right?”

“Yes.”

“We’re doing this Concerts You Can’t Miss this Summer piece and would really like to include Zep on it. And, you know, since today is their very first, we thought we might get your perspective on the matter. 150 words. What do you say?”

I was at loss for words. Being included on this particular magazine has been a goal of mine, and even if it was only an insignificant part, it would surely look good on my resume.

“Yes.” I finally let out with absolute confidence.

“Good. Just one more thing, this is due tomorrow six am sharp. It needs to go through the editor’s table before being published. I understand you have another deadline for Sunday. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Fuck yes.” Ben Long chuckled on the other side of the line as I fist bumped the air. The opportunities were lining themselves up for me, and I was not going to be afraid to take them. I sent my regards to the magazine’s team and hung up, feeling victorious.

“Oi, girlie.” I knew by the brusque voice that it belonged to none other than Mr. Grant, and I turned around to greet his sleepless face. “Breakfast.” He said, pointing towards the direction he was walking. The large manager didn’t stop to chat, and I trailed behind him, hoping to get on his good side.

“Tough night?” I asked, perhaps too chirpily.

“Fun night, Miss Rayne. I am surprised you’re up this early, considering the events that occurred.” My cheeks burned at his comment, but he seemed pleased, as though I had somehow earned his approval by drinking half the bar. “Hey chap, did you manage to wake them up?”

He was speaking to a roadie who rushed by with a distressed look painted on his face, hands deep in his pockets. “Bonham threw a pair of drumsticks at me, but they’re up.” With that remark the boy was gone, and I glanced at Mr. Grant to find him nodding.

“That sounds like him.” He muttered almost to himself and I contributed a chuckle.

We finally entered a deserted room, probably destined for reunions, and especially closed for the band. The table was filled edge to edge with all sorts of foods: fried bacon, scrambled and poached eggs, trails among trails of diverse breads, grilled veggies and fresh fruit. There was also champagne and orange juice for mimosas, along with bottles of heavier alcohol. Despite the fact there was literally no one, the grumpy manager asked me to take a seat and left without a beat.

I was buzzing, first as a result of the recent news and second, because it didn’t really matter I had overslept. Apparently a four pm breakfast was only natural for bands, and I took a mental note for future events. The possibilities of accompanying other rock groups on tour seemed suddenly reachable, and I found myself on cloud nine.

As I was reaching for some champagne to celebrate, two scantily dressed girls with long chestnut-colored hair entered the room, and I immediately identified them as groupies. Robert’s, I thought, deciding the best would be to simply ignore them.

“So, who did you come in with?” One of them asked me, and I only glared back. It was then that I noticed both of the girls shared my same hairstyle: wavy dark hair with a middle parting. It was certainly a strange coincidence, but I didn’t put too much thought into it, downing my mimosa.

A freshly showered Robert Plant then strutted in, his wet blond tresses stuck to his neck. His characteristic jolly smile was shining through despite the hangover I knew he too had to be sporting. The singer walked directly for me, obvious to the excited groupies that fought to get his attention.

“Really, Robert? You spent all night with those chicks and you can’t manage a hello?” I asked him, discreetly pointing their way with my slim, champagne flute. This produced a confused expression on the rock star’s face.

“Oh, they do not belong to me.” He shrugged bewildered, and without a care reached for my glass, drinking the leftover. There was a sudden blow, and in came the boisterous John Bonham, his face obviously tired but enthusiastic. As soon as he caught sight of me, the drummer came sprinting towards my seat.

“Bloody hell, Venus. That’s what I call getting hammered.” I high fived my new drinking buddy, and we ended cracking up over the ridiculous conversations we had last night while totally inebriated. “I don’t even know how this wanker could perform.” Bonham howled, referring to Robert and his league of unclaimed groupies.

“Actually, Planty here claims they aren’t his.” I responded while both band members devoured plates of traditional English breakfast. The drummer looked up at my statement, slightly puzzled.

“Well, they’re certainly not Jonesy’s, and Page goes for blondes.” Some peculiar ideas began popping up in my mind after Bonham’s remark, but I waved them away as pure speculation. “Now that I think about it, where was Jimmy last night?”

Like summoned by the mere sound of his name, the elusive player burst through the door and the entirety of the table fell silent. Try as I might, I couldn’t resist stealing a curious look at him and at the way his hair released tiny drops of water that slid well into his open shirt. I was suddenly thirsty and knew no amount of alcohol could satisfy it.

Jimmy Page took a quick look at the members of the makeshift breakfast, until his eyes finally settled on me. I shifted nervously at the intensity of his glare, as his fellow partners followed the trail of their guitarist’s gaze to my seat. A beat later and he was gone without uttering a single word, both groupies following quickly behind him. Well, that answers that.

“What did you do?” Robert and John questioned in unison, shocked at our exchange but very much amused. I shrugged and sank deeper into my chair, still dazed by the brief appearance of the British God. Or Devil, that suits him so much better.

“I’ll investigate.” The singer stated and rushed out of his seat laughing. Bonham quickly followed, not before congratulating me on managing to piss off the reclusive Jimmy. It didn’t seem like an accomplishment to me.

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