#sacred new beginnings
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💕Lover💕
A/N- hey all! This is my submission for @ohtobeleah ‘s Galentine’s party!! I’m so excited to see everyone’s posts and concepts, make sure you check out the submissions under her tag!
Summary- A collection of memories and mood boards documenting you and Jake from engagement to wedding day.
Pairing- Jake Seresin x oc!reader (callsign Storm)
Warnings- language, drinking, smut.
“We can leave the Christmas lights up til January, this our place we make the rules”
It was January 5th now, you knew the chances of Jake being home for Christmas were slim but secretly you’d hoped he would be. He’d begged you not to spend the holiday alone his mother insisting you come to Texas so you’d flown out and spent two fantastic weeks with his family. They had welcomed you with open arms, taking you to all of Jake’s old haunts and involving you in their family traditions. You’d never been close to your parents so the overwhelming love you received from the Seresin family was something you’d never experienced before. You’d gotten to talk to him sporadically over the holiday but you could tell he was heartbroken he couldn’t be there with you. The time went by too fast and before you knew it the 5th had arrived and you were stepping off your plane in San Diego, Coyote was waiting to pick you up and you couldn’t wait to get home to your own bed. You’d put up a small tree with some lights before you left just to keep the seasonal depression at bay, but as you unlocked the door to your shared home you were met with what could only be described as a winter wonderland. The house was covered in lights, decorated ornately with paper snowflakes and there in front of a brand new 8 foot Christmas tree was Jake. He grinned his thousand watt smile at you as you dropped all of your bags and launched yourself into his arms.
“Hey Stormy girl, did ya miss me?”
You let out a watery laugh as you began to sob in earnest, he held you close and pressed kisses into your hair, reassuring you that he was home and this was real. When you finally settled he sat you both down on the couch in front of the massive tree, you were still in shock that not only was he here but he had somehow managed to transform your house into Santa’s workshop.
“What is all this baby?” You whispered against his lips, he’d never been big on Christmas but he knew you loved it so the thoughtfulness and effort put in after a nearly 3 month deployment was not lost on you.
“We didn’t get Christmas together darlin’ and I know being apart has been hard as hell these past few months” he stands up now, walking over to the tree to pick up a small gift you hadn’t even noticed. You gasp as tears well up in your eyes, Jake Seresin is down on one knee surrounded by a literal Christmas wonderland, and he’s about to ask you for forever. “Yes!” You blurt out, causing a belly laugh to erupt from him.
“You didn’t even let me ask sweetheart”
“You can but my answer is still yes, I just want to be yours, forever and ever.”
He closes the distance between you to slide his grandma’s engagement ring on your finger, kissing you in the glow of the twinkle lights.
“My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue, all's well that ends well to end up with you”
A joint bachelor/bachelorette party at the hard deck, all the boys had suggested strip clubs and hookers but Jake just wanted a night with everyone they loved and to maybe get you a little tipsy so he could proposition you for a hookup in the bathroom. You were dancing with Phoenix and a few of your other girlfriends, dressed in the tiniest white dress with a bedazzled cowboy hat and veil that said bride on the front. He didn’t think he could love you more than this moment; eyes full of joy and singing “Don’t stop believing” at the top of your lungs. He’d even let you convince him to wear the ridiculous groom t shirt you’d gotten him, taking all the jesting in stride even though he secretly loved it. He’d always give you whatever you want.
You were a spitfire when you wanted to be, always first to defend him if some cocky asshole got mouthy, he had been an absolute dick to everyone around him for years but since that first dagger squad mission he’d been trying his damndest to make amends.
That was one of the many ways he’d known you were the one, you’d been dating quietl after you and Rooster’s failed engagement had crashed and burned over a year before. During a particularly stressful training day the two had come to blows, both of them ending up in the infirmary as Rooster continued to pelt insults his way. Jake was trying to take it in stride but your temper could only take so much. You were professional but vicious in your descent on him, refusing to let Bradley Bradshaw and his unresolved emotional baggage dismantle all the work Jake had put in to better himself. You’d been a champion for him no matter what and he wasn’t used to anyone having his back, it took his breath away just how much you believed in him.
Watching you now he felt his heart swell, and he couldn’t sit in his chair any longer; the need to hold you carrying him across the room, spinning you into his arms with ease.
“Hi sugar, think I could steal you away for a few minutes?” He whispered in your ear, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he dipped you to cheers from the crowd. You threw your head back giggling and took his hand to drag him through the throngs of patrons to the quiet hall that held the bathrooms.
You knew what he wanted, he was always looking for an opportunity to get you wrapped around him, often joking he might have a bit of a kink for getting you off in public spaces but really he was just insatiable when it came to you, especially when you were dressed in what he thought may be the world's smallest dress and rubbing your body all over his.
Placing you on the side of the sink he ran his hands over you now, sliding a hand between your parted legs finding you obscenely wet and he chuckled; maybe he wasn’t the only one that got hot and bothered over hooking up where anyone could find you.
You gasped at his touch and pushed your hands into his hair, needing him to kiss you and he was all too willing, tasting your tongue as you moaned into his mouth, the prettiest sound he ever heard. He pulled your tiny scrap of underwear to the side and pressed his fingers into your dripping core, watching you grind down onto his hand, whispering filthy things he knew you’d be mortified if anyone heard and God he lived for it, you were his dirty girl behind closed doors all for him, only he got to see you like this. You were teetering on the edge now, suddenly removing his fingers from you with a smirk as you protested, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and chest heaving while you begged for him to stop teasing and fuck you. He didn’t have to be told twice, letting you wrench his belt buckle open and unzip his jeans in record time, sliding home into your velvet heat, I love yous breathed out into the humid air of the bar bathroom. He chased your mutual highs quickly, knowing eventually someone would come looking for you, desperate cries pouring from your pouty pink lips and coming hard as you pulsed and fluttered around him, both of you bathed in ecstasy in the dim dingy light. As the two of you attempted to become presentable you were startled by the creaking of the bathroom door, Javy poking his head through and shaking his head with a raucous laugh.
“We’ve been taking turns guarding the bathroom, would you two heathens wrap it up? We’ve got celebrating to do!”
You both couldn’t hold in your laughter, they knew you too well, bracing yourselves for the onslaught of teasing for skipping out on your own party to hook up.
Drinks were distributed, a new game of pool was started and as you gazed at Jake across the room you couldn’t help but be proud of who he had become. He was honorable, steadfast and in fact too good to be true. You had both been damaged and jaded from past mistakes and relationships but had somehow healed each other becoming the best version of yourselves. You’d do it all again if it meant you ended up here, with your magnetic force of a man. Loving him was like coming up for air, he was Christmas morning and birthday wishes on lit candles and technicolor fireworks on the Fourth of July. You couldn’t wait to spend forever loving him.
“You’re my, my, my, my Lover.”
As you sat in the dressing room of the venue overlooking the harbor you were brought back to the night of Penny and Maverick’s wedding just a few years ago. You had come back to San Diego for their nuptials still heartbroken from your failed engagement with Bradley. Over the course of the long weekend you had found love again in the form of your best friend, the man you were finally about to marry.
Sometimes it still felt like a dream, you were afraid you would wake up one morning and still be single and heartbroken in your tiny apartment in Pensacola, but fate had stepped in and brought the two of you together. It hadn’t been easy, you were in tears more often than you’d like to admit when you first started dating long distance, and then deployments apart caused even more strain.
When you were finally promoted to Lieutenant Commander 10 months into your budding romance your superior told you there was an opportunity to fly again at top gun but this time with a new crew. So you and your front seater Viper decided to take the leap and head to Fightertown. Jake couldn’t believe it when he had a knock on his door that Sunday night to find you with all your luggage on his front porch, bottle of champagne in hand asking how he felt about a roommate.
It had been two years since then, both the dagger squad and red knights could be seen mingling outside and you felt your heart swell at how lucky you were to be surrounded by so many amazing friends.
Jake was all nerves on the opposite side of the venue, couldn’t seem to keep his hands from shaking as he tried to put his cufflinks on. Javy swatted his hand away and took over, shaking his head and handing Jake his whiskey to finish up.
“What are you so worried about? Stormy’s in dude, you two were made for each other.”
Jake knew he was being ridiculous, his family loved Stormy, all of his friends did too, he just wanted everything to be perfect for her.
“I’m not worried about her leaving me numb nuts, I just want it to be everything she hopes it is, I’ve checked the weather 100 times today and if it rains I swear-“
“Jake, she’s not just excited about the fairy tale wedding; she’s excited to marry you. The rest of it will turn out perfectly because you two will be together, the rest is gravy bud.”
Jake wondered to himself when Javy had gotten so smart, but he had to admit his wingman was right about one thing, being with you forever was the thing that mattered most and Jake couldn’t wait to start it with you.
As you walked down the aisle you could barely hold it together, Jake was already tearing up when you reached him taking his hand in yours it took all the restraint you had to not go ahead and kiss him. It was everything you had ever dreamed of and even if it had just been the two of you and a justice of the peace that would’ve been enough, because the end result was forever with the love of your life. Jake’s brother-in-law, a preacher back in Texas had been asked to be the officiant and when he finally announced you man and wife you couldn’t get to your love fast enough, pressing your lips to his as he made a show of dipping you for the crowd.
Later that evening in the glow of the harbor lights you were swaying to the music with your husband and you couldn’t put into words how perfect this night had been. He pulled your face close to his as he sang along with the band, and you had to kiss him again, it felt like every cell in your body cried out to be loved and touched by Jake Seresin and you knew without a doubt he always would. No matter where the two of you went he would do everything to love and protect you, and you would always do the same. Forever.
Jake Seresin Masterlist
Tagging- @ohtobeleah @bobgasm @attapullman @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @roosterforme @jessicab1991 @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @mygyn @86laura11 @floydsglasses @dempy @nouis-bum @angelbabyyy99 @pinkdaisies9285 @purelyfiction @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @jostan456 @kmc1989 @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @sailor-aviator
#leahs galentines day special#ohtobeleah#top gun maverick#jake hangman smut#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman fic#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman x you#jake seresin smut#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman imagine#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun fanfiction#top gun hangman#sacred new beginnings#snb#Jake and Stormy
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Sacred New Beginnings (19/?)
Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.
Ten x Rose AU
This Chapter: Explicit, ~5000 words
AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 |
James can hardly hear past the roar of his pulse in his ears as he is the sole focus of Jackie Tyler’s—(Jackie Peters’s? He’ll have to ask Rose what last name her mum has)—ire. Gone is the cheerful grin he’d seen in the photos Rose had sent of herself and her mother on holiday in Barcelona; now that joy is replaced with the sort of rage only a mother is capable of.
He throws a desperate glance at the other adult in the room, but Tyler Peters is stunned into silence, his eyes locked on James as though he’d never seen a human being before.
Absurdly, this is what unfreezes James, and he throws out a stupid little, “Hello. I’m James Noble. Pleasure.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve showin’ up here,” Jackie spits, stalking ever-closer. James regrets that he didn’t use the last two seconds to free himself from his position of being backed against the countertop. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Mummy! Daddy!”
Jackie whirls around to face the corridor at the sound of a tiny voice and pitter-patter of feet. She automatically crouches, and Tony gallops headlong into his mother’s waiting arms. She scoops him up and peppers kisses across his fair skin.
“Did you have a good night with sissy?” Jacke coos, stroking his hair away from his face. “She didn’t feed you any ice cream, did she?”
“Yeah! An’ made hotdogs and cheesy ‘tatoes, then we played Jus’ Dance, an’ James was there!”
“Oh?” Jackie asks, flashing James a withering glare. “When did he get here?”
“Yeah, he’s so fun!” Tony squeals, pivoting in his mother’s arms to beam at James. “He’s my fav’rite.”
Rose finally emerges from down the hall, her cheeks stained scarlet as she squeaks, “Hi, Mum. I expected you to text when you got here.”
“Oh, so you could hide this one somewhere?” Jackie scowls, gesturing to James.
“I… I wanted… I was gonna tell you…”
“What, that you let ‘im come weaslin’ back into your life? Did he come up with a sob story? Made it real convincin’, did he?”
“Jacks,” Tyler says quietly, inclining his head slightly towards Tony, who is still ensconced in his mother’s arms and watching the exchange curiously. “Let’s save it, eh?
Jackie purses her lips, then presses them to her son’s temple before handing the child to his father. “Take him outside, yeah? Meet you downstairs.”
“Five minutes,” Tyler warns. “This one needs to get to bed.” To his son, he chirps, “Say bye to sissy!”
“Bye-bye sissy! Gimme hugs and kisses!”
Rose tiptoes around her mother, not sparing her a glance as she scoops her little brother into her arms and gives him a couple of big twirls around the room.
“Spinny hug, spinny hug!” Tony screeches, clinging to Rose for dear life.
The sight makes something hollow ache in the pit of James’s gut. The siblings clearly adore each other, and Rose is so good with him.
“Bye-bye James!” Small hands tap his legs, and he realizes Tony is gesturing for a hug. He hesitates for only a fraction, but he can’t say no to those big brown eyes.
“G’night Tony,” he whispers, kneeling for a brief embrace. “Thanks for playing with me tonight.”
“All right, little man, wanna see who can race down the stairs fastest?” Tyler asks his son, ruffling Tony’s fair blond hair.
“Yeah! Onetwothreego!”
Tony bolts out of the flat, giggling madly, leaving his father to leisurely stroll behind him. Before Tyler closes the door behind him, he spins and says, “Good night, Rosie.”
“Night,” she mumbles, looking increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of being left alone with her mother.
James nearly fumbles out an excuse to leave, but realizes that would be the most cowardly thing he’d ever done, and Rose deserves better than that. So he pulls on his big boy pants and turns to face the music.
Before he can speak, Jackie turns on Rose and throws her arms up into the air. “What are you thinking?! Have you gone mental?!”
“Mum, please just…”
“Whatever happened to “I deserve better than bein’ the latest in a long line”? I thought you were over bein’ a good time for someone who would drop you in a heartbeat for someone younger and smarter and prettier?”
Rose flinches from her mother, and James takes an automatic step towards her, reaching across the space between them.
“It’s not… it’s not like that,” Rose says weakly. “I got it wrong.”
“Oh, did you? ‘Cos from where I’m sittin’, it’s bloody obvious what’s going on here. Mister Handsome Rich Rockstar has swindled you again, tellin’ you whatever it is you want to hear so he can keep you ‘til he’s done with you.”
“Er, I’m not technically a rockstar,” James blurts, and he can hardly believe what has just come out of his mouth. But he can’t stop. It’s like his brain has ceased all higher function and his mouth has taken over. “More folk-pop. Indy, maybe? Soft pop?”
“Oh, shut up,” Jackie snaps, turning to him with fire in her eyes.
He clacks his teeth together and nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to make himself seem as small as possible, which is quite the impossible feat, considering his height.
“You! You need to get the hell away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you. You men, you’re all the same, taking what you want, thinkin’ you’re entitled to get your way, lyin’ through your bleedin’ teeth to get what you want. Well I won’t stand for it! My Rose deserves better. She isn’t a girl you can shag and drop the moment someone else comes along.”
“I… I know,” James stammers, his mouth impossibly dry and his stomach roiling in discomfort.
“Oh, do you?” Jackie remarks, false surprise lifting her face. “You had no problem tellin’ the entire bloody world you were just havin’ a bit of fun. ‘Cos that’s all you really want, isn’t it? Fun and a place to wet your cock…”
“Mum! Enough!” Rose shouts, red-faced and near-tears. “I was wrong. We’d both misunderstood each other. But we’re together now. Properly.”
“That’s what he told you, didn’t he? Bet he sounded real sorry too. Bet he said all the right words, didn’t he?”
James’s heart falls when he sees Rose flinch and drop her gaze to her feet.
“That’s enough,” he says quietly. “Say whatever you want about me, but Rose is smart enough to make her own decisions about her life, no matter what you believe. Yes, when Rose and I first started seeing each other, we each thought it was something casual. And I was an idiot for what I told the reporters. But things are different now. I want what’s best for her.”
Jackie grunts dismissively. “You say that now, but the moment she gives you a bit of bad press, you’re going to spin whatever little tale you need to tell to get the public on your side, and my Rose is gonna be the one who gets smeared through the muck.”
“I wouldn’t…”
“Mum, please,” Rose whispers. “I know I have an awful track record with boyfriends, but those are my mistakes to make. Maybe James will be a mistake, maybe he won’t be, but you have to let me live my life the way I choose to. And right now, I choose him.”
Jackie softens a fraction as she turns to her daughter. It’s as though with him out of sight, the gentle mother returns. She reaches to Rose and cradles her jaw, stroking her cheeks as she says, “My Rose. I will always want the best for you. It killed me to see you in such a state on holiday. I don’t want to see you be taken advantage of. Is it money? Sweetheart, you know me and your dad will help you out, you don’t need to stay with him for that.”
James is slightly offended that Jackie thinks he’s paying Rose to hang out with him or paying her for sex, but before he can think of a response, Rose covers her mother’s hands and leans into the touch.
“It’s not money,” she assures. “He’s not paying for anything of mine.”
“He bloody well should—he’s rich! You better not be payin’ for your dates!”
Rose lets out a sniffly giggle and throws her arms around her mother, who holds her tightly and rocks her from side to side. James wonders if he should sneak out while they’re distracted, but he finds he’s rooted to the spot, trying to wrap his head around the last few minutes.
“Please be safe, sweetheart,” Jackie whispers. “Please.”
“I am safe, Mum. And I wish you’d believe me when I say I’m happy. Really happy.”
“I believe that you believe it,” Jackie says, pulling back just far enough to kiss Rose’s forehead. “Remember that I’m here for you the moment you need me. Don’t you ever think you can’t come home to your old mum.”
Rose nods wordlessly.
The fight seems to have left Jackie, but she turns to him and says, “Don’t you dare hurt her, or mess her over.”
“I– I won’t,” he vows.
Jackie narrows her eyes, scanning him up and down, but doesn’t say anything else. She turns away from him and back to Rose. “I gotta go. It’s way past Tony’s bedtime. Thanks for watchin’ him.”
“Of course. I love spending time with him,” Rose says, guiding her mother to the door.
“I love you. More than anything.”
“Love you too. Drive safe.”
Jackie kisses both of Rose’s cheeks and doesn’t even look James’s way as she sweeps out of the flat.
oOoOo
Downstairs in the foyer, Tyler Peters is desperately trying to occupy his definitely-tired-but-pretending-he’s-not-tired four-year-old, and it’s going about as well as one could hope. Tony is racing laps around the room, skillfully dodging the amused (and mercifully tolerant) tenants of the building who are simply trying to enter or exit the building.
“Watch it, mate,” he calls when Tony nearly barrels into the little old lady who has lived in this building for decades. She is one of the few residents who already leased a flat here before Tyler became the owner of the building. “So sorry Mrs. Donovan.”
“Oh, my grandsons have just as much energy,” the old woman says cheerfully, smiling down at Tony. “These bones may be old, but they’re sturdier than they look.”
“Hi!” Tony chirps, flashing a toothy smile. “Bye!”
And so the laps continue.
And continue…
And continue…
Tyler sighs and checks his watch. He should’ve known Jackie couldn’t keep it to five minutes. It’s nearing on fifteen, and he’s about to corral his son so they can go fetch her when the lift dings and Jackie steps out, her eyes sparking and her jaw locked.
“Mummy!” Tony sprints over and takes her hand. “Time to go!”
Tyler joins his family and takes his wife’s free hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of hers.
“Chat go all right?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking,” Jackie grumbles. “I mean… James bloody Noble?! It was bad enough to hear my daughter was havin’ a lark with that… that… scoundrel in the first place. But now she’s taken him back? Stupid. Irresponsible.”
Tyler bites back a smirk and knocks his elbow into her ribs. “Put yourself in her shoes, eh? When you were her age, you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have bedded Bono if he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in you?”
“It’s not the same!” she complains. “Bono never would’ve…”
“And Rose likely thought James Noble never would’ve,” he says simply. “You know I love her dearly and that I want the best for her, but Rose seems happy right now. Will it last? Probably not. But let her have this, eh? How many people can say they dated a famous singer in their youth? It’ll be a story for the grandkids and great-grandkids.”
His wife huffs out another impatient breath, but doesn’t argue further. “Yeah. Maybe. But still. James bloody Noble. I just hope Rose knows what she’s doing, datin’ that man…”
Tyler wraps his arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze, but doesn’t say more. Together, they walk out of the foyer of the building, all while being watched by two young women leaning on the wall beside the lifts.
The women exchange stunned, disbelieving looks.
“James Noble? The James Noble?” one of them asks.
“With Rose Tyler?” the other asks. “The girl up in flat 10-2?”
No fucking way…
oOoOo
James stares at the front door for several long seconds after Jackie’s marvelous exit. Rose shifts away from his side to step forward, twisting the lock and fastening the deadbolt chain before she clunks her forehead into the door. She doesn’t move from her position, so he goes to her.
Carefully, he slips his arms around her waist and presses a whisper-soft kiss to the side of her neck. Though she feels limp, she manages to spin in his grasp to instead plonk her head into his chest rather than her front door. She simply stands there, unmoving, as he rubs her back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice muffled. “I didn’t think… I thought she’d… I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, nestling his stubbly cheek into her hair and breathing her in. Never before has a parental introduction gone so poorly. Usually his partners are as famous as him, so the parents are accepting and gracious or simply indifferent. Occasionally they’ll fawn over him.
But the outright hostility and venom that Jackie just spat at him…
“I didn’t realize you’d told your mum about me,” he finally says, matching the volume of his voice with hers.
She groans and says, “During our holiday. I’d been out of sorts, thinkin’ you didn’t care about us at all. Mum caught on to my mood. I didn’t mean to tell her, but I was quite upset, and it all just sorta… came out. And when I saw your red-carpet interview that confirmed I was just a bit of fun for you… I lost it, and she saw my reaction, and it wasn’t good.”
James wishes he could go back in time and wallop his past self across the head for his thoughtless comments. He wishes he’d had the courage to tell the interviewer how he felt about Rose, to tell the world that he was riding the high of falling in love, and that he wanted to keep it private. But he hadn’t. He’d been a prick and a twat, and he’d broken Rose’s heart from five and a half thousand miles away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve forgiven you for it all. But I just… I guess I’d forgotten how much I’d told Mum about you. And I’d forgotten how upset she was on my behalf. I was stupid for thinking that telling her on the spot that you and I were properly together would be enough for her to accept you. I shouldn’t have done it this way… I should have talked to her first, then introduced you. I’m so stupid.”
His stomach churns as he squeezes her tightly, as though that could rid them both of the shock they’re in.
“Should I… should I go?” he asks, mentally pleading with her to say no. The thought of spending his night in his empty house makes him ache with loneliness.
To his relief, she shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I don’t feel like I deserve to have you with me tonight. My mum just… verbally eviscerated you. You must be so angry.”
“Not at all,” he insists. “Well… I’m a bit chastened. And a bit embarrassed that I made such a poor first impression, and that you’d been so upset about my behavior that you told your mum how awful I am. But I still want to be here. With you. If that’s all right.”
In response, Rose finally lifts her face from where it had been pressed into his shirt. Her eyes are a little red but completely dry, though he barely registers that fact before she threads her fingers through his hair, presses up onto her toes, and brushes her mouth to his. His eyes flutter shut at the glorious pressure of her kiss. He melts into her, splaying his palm across her back to hold her close.
“Stay,” she murmurs when she breaks away, though she catches his lips in another kiss a moment later. “Please stay with me.”
“For as long as you wish,” he says, because there is nothing on this planet that could make him leave.
Apart from her kiss of greeting at the door, this is the first that James has had Rose’s hands and lips on him in over a week. He tries to keep it chaste and slow, still unsure whether it’s appropriate for him to stay, while hoping to convey comfort and support through his body. He really shouldn’t let them get carried away; Rose is obviously upset, but he just can’t help it. He’s drawing as much strength from her as she hopefully is from him.
He has the presence of mind to keep his hands in safe places, primarily across the expanse of her back. He grabs onto the fabric to anchor himself as he basks in the heady intoxication of her mouth.
They each know exactly where this kiss is headed but pretend not to, and instead they explore each other’s mouths in lazy, indolent strokes of lips and tongue. James quickly becomes far too hot, his skin flushed and tingling with anticipation of things to come. He tentatively dips his fingers beneath her jumper, shuddering to touch her bare skin. She sighs into his mouth and presses her front flush with his.
He’s steadily getting hard in his jeans, each beat of his heart sending his blood rushing down, down, down, helped along by the rocking of Rose’s hips. He drops a hand to her arse, caressing and squeezing and pulling her more tightly into him. With his other hand, he tangles his fingers into her hair and guides her head back a bit to get better access to her neck. She grips his hips with near-bruising force as he plants row after row of searing kisses to the sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear. That familiar whining moan rushes out of her as she shudders in his arms, holding him close to urge him on. Not that he needs the encouragement.
Without breaking the kiss or the press of their bodies, James slowly guides them down the hall and to Rose’s bedroom. It takes ages, as he keeps getting distracted with the taste of her skin and the sound of her quiet gasps. They move even more slowly when Rose remembers that she has hands, then proceeds to use them to cup him and stroke him through his jeans.
“Christ,” he chokes out as a spark of pleasure zips up his spine.
“Rose,” she counters, giving him a playful squeeze that sends a full-body shudder through him.
“Smart-arse. Fuck, do that again.”
A laugh hums up her throat, vibrating against his now-still lips as she grips him tightly and rubs. He’s going to fucking lose it, right here in the doorway of her bedroom, but Christ this feels so good and he never, ever wants her to stop.
The intensity recedes a moment later, and he regains his senses enough to tug her hand away from him to instead guide her all the way into her room. There’s a pile of laundry on her bed that Rose haphazardly shoves to the floor.
“Clothes off,” she orders as she fumbles with the hem of her jumper, tugging until she pulls it over her head.
He doesn’t need telling twice.
Neither of them bothers with trying to sexily disrobe the other. Rather, they go for speed and efficiency, and soon enough, they’re both wonderfully naked. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, even more so, and he drags her down to the mattress with him. They move together until Rose is on her back, her legs open for him, and he’s atop her, his hips cradled in hers. She reaches between them for his cock, and strokes him a few times as she guides him inside of her.
He presses in, slowly, inch by inch, shivering at the sensations rushing through him. He groans through clenched teeth as he’s fully seated, forcing himself to wait, to give Rose a moment to adjust. She’s panting beneath him, chest rising and falling as her nails bite into the fleshy part of his back.
“Okay,” she whispers, arching her hips up and pulling him close for a rough, sloppy kiss that conveys everything she wants and needs from him.
His skin sings, tingling at the sensation of so much of her body pressed to his. His blood turns molten, burning him from within as he begins to move.
“Feels so good,” he chokes out, pulling back and plunging forward in a steady, measured manner. The slick glide of her all around him is as addictive as ever, and he trembles with the pleasure slowly mounting in him.
“Uh huh.” Her agreement dies on a moan as he thrusts in with a little more force this time. “James.”
He catches her bottom lip between his before releasing it to kiss her again. He teases his tongue into her mouth, flicking at the roof of her mouth just behind her front teeth, then going back to simpler kisses. Rose clings to him, kissing him back in equal measure as her nails rake down his spine to cup his arse, guiding his quickening rhythm. The sting of her nails coils a raging, aching heat low in his spine, building higher and higher until he knows it won’t be much longer until he’s lost.
“I missed you,” he grunts as her muscles begin to tighten around him. Thank fuck; she’s as close as he is. He redoubles his effort, wanting to push her over the edge first. “So much.”
“Me too,” she gasps. “Fuck. Please…”
He speeds up his rhythm, giving up on kissing her lips and instead tucking his face into the side of her neck. He breathes her in then plants his mouth to that patch of skin beneath her ear that is always her undoing. He grins to himself as she shudders and curses and moans, and when he dips a hand between them to rub her, she breaks.
She cries out and writhes into the mattress, arching her hips up and up and up, closer to him, closer to the sensations he is wringing out of her. She’s perfect, and fucking hell, he’s right on her heels. The perfect pressure within him pulls tighter, making him lose all sense as he chases his high. He thrusts with abandon, clenching his teeth as the flames fan hotter, drowning him, consuming him…
He lets out a wrenching moan and thrusts deeply into her, releasing helplessly, shaking and cursing and burying his face into her. Sensation sparks through him, channeling relief and pleasure through his entire body, curling his toes and stealing his breath. She’s everywhere, all around him and holding him through this maelstrom that has never felt so fucking good.
Rose… he thinks he gasps her name, but the rushing in his ears deafens him to anything except his erratic heartbeat.
He returns to awareness by Rose lazily stroking his back and kissing the top of his shoulder. His body is too heavy to move, but he manages to pull out and flop indelicately beside her, keeping an arm and leg slung over her. She laughs quietly at his antics, and he grins into the pillow. He cracks open an eye to look at her, and the sight of her smile and sex-mussed hair and flushed cheeks ignites a joy and love so deep that he begins to giggle. His body is thrumming with hormones that make him feel boneless and content, and through it all, he laughs and folds himself closer to Rose.
She’s laughing with him and turns to face him fully. He mirrors her position so they’re both on their sides, their legs tangled lazily together. He reaches out and brushes a few rogue strands of hair away from her face, then leans in to kiss her softly.
“That was great,” he whispers into the sacred silence of her bedroom.
“Mhm. Very great.”
“The most great,” he says, beaming as she rolls her eyes.
“Did you have a nice trip?” she asks.
He hums in wordless assent, and briefly tells her all about the week he’d spent in east Asia, meeting fans and doing photoshoots while promoting Catalysis.
“How was your week? Are you feeling better?” While her voice is still raspy from the illness she’d contracted, she looks and sounds much better than she had during their video chat on his last night in Japan.
“Much better. Teaching classes while feeling like death is always frustrating, but it’s easier than arranging for a substitute,” she says with a shrug.
He frowns, but they already had this discussion about how shittily schools treat their teachers, so he lets it go.
“I’ve got an upcoming holiday concert at the O2, weekend after next,” he murmurs, remembering the monthly schedule Donna had sent him that morning. “I’d… I’d really like you to come. If you want. It’s not just me. I think Ed Sheeran is on the list too. And Astrid Peth. She’s a good mate of mine. You can bring a few friends with you. There’s a private suite for my guests, so you could stay hidden, mostly, as long as cameras aren’t wandering around. And my mum’ll be there too. I think. Well. I should invite her, shouldn’t I…?”
Rose interrupts his nervous rambling with a soft kiss. He melts into her, but she breaks it far too soon for his liking.
“I’d love to,” she says, cupping his cheek before scraping her nails through his hair.
His eyes flutter shut at the echoes of pleasure that ripple through him, and he grins at her acceptance of his invitation. He’s giddy at the thought of being on stage and looking into his private suite to see Rose. His favorite pieces of his life will be in the same place, melding together perfectly.
He leans forward to kiss her again, and she willingly reciprocates.
oOoOo
They sleep, eventually. Between (and during) bouts of sex, they talk about everything and nothing. It’s like nothing bad can happen to them here, not when they’re twined so intimately, not when they’re making each other laugh so freely.
Wrung out in that perfect post-marathon-sex way, James buries himself beneath Rose’s blankets and lets blissful unconsciousness claim him. His dreams are vague and foggy, and he doesn’t remember them when he awakes later that morning to sunlight peeking through Rose’s curtains.
His eyes are gritty and heavy as he leans over to check the time. It’s barely 8am, but he feels refreshed, even though the drowsiness of lingering sleep tugs at him again. His shuffling has disturbed Rose, who curls close to him and mutters something unintelligible. He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes once more.
He drifts in and out for many long minutes before the gurgling of his stomach is too distracting. Even Rose hears it, and she pokes his belly, mumbling, “Shush.”
“Can’t exactly help it. Mind if I order a breakfast and coffee delivery?”
“Go for it,” Rose says through a yawn.
“Then can I borrow your shower?” he asks, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his naked waist.
“Go for it,” she repeats, tucking an arm beneath her pillow to glance up at him. Her gaze falls to the morning erection that is somehow poking at the blankets despite their multiple rounds of very satisfying sex the night before. “Well, hello.”
She gently prods it, giggling when it bobs a bit. “Bouncy.”
James stifles a snort. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”
“Pfft.”
He lets her mindlessly poke his cock as he scrolls to a food delivery app and orders a selection of bagels and croissants for them, as well as his favorite coffee and her favorite tea. His chest balloons with warmth when he adds Rose’s address to his list of favorites, then places their breakfast order.
“Should be here in half an hour,” he says, resting his phone on the nightstand, ignoring the handful of missed notifications. It’s the bloody weekend, for God’s sake. It can wait. For good measure, he completely silences everything, not wanting his morning with Rose to be disturbed.
“Hmmm, how can we pass the time?” Rose muses, blinking up at him through her lashes and grinning wickedly.
She shows him just how entertaining thirty minutes can be.
He doesn’t have time for a shower before there’s a knock at the door that has them scrambling for clothes. He tugs on his pants and t-shirt while Rose simply dons a robe overtop her knickers, cinching it tight at the waist to keep her modesty. They emerge from the bedroom, with James going to the kitchen for plates while Rose heads to the door.
There’s an odd commotion in the hallway, but James doesn’t really think much of it, not as he absently wonders what he and Rose could do today. Maybe they can sneak out somewhere and visit a museum or something. Maybe he could take her to the studio—it should be fairly empty on a Saturday morning. Maybe they can take an impromptu road trip to somewhere Rose has never been. Pack their bags and drive to the first place they can think of. Book a hotel and order in a bunch of fancy food and rent some films to watch and get drunk on expensive wine and kiss until their lips are bruised. God, that sounds like a perfect weekend, and he hopes Rose will be agreeable.
But all of those plans, those hopes, are dashed the moment Rose opens her front door to reveal a stunned delivery person and over a dozen paparazzi photographers, armed and ready with flashing cameras.
#ficandchips#dwfic#doctor who#ten x rose#sacred new beginnings#ten x rose au#james x rose#my fic#romance#angst#it's heeeeere!!!#enjoy 😘💜
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And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name
And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away
I'd never walk Cornelia Street again
I'd never walk Cornelia Street again(x)
#tsuserjen#tsuserlily#tsuserafterweglow#tsusermeggie#tsusermolly#tsuserashley#tsuserbella#tsuserkatie#tsuserelena#corenelia street#mood board#aesthetic#sacred new beginnings#Lover#Lover era#It's queue#Traffic lights#barefoot in the kitchen#gia.moodboards
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do you also sit on the floor of your new shared apartment with your love and eat your first meal barefoot listening to Cornelia Street or are you normal?
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me fighting the urge to name every fic after a taylor swift lyric
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Since I very sincerely doubt Uther managed to kill ALL the Dragonlords (they're knights, not the KGB, and it was a lot easier to disappear back then) imagine them returning to Albion from Rome or whatever to find Cousin Balinor's only son is ruling Camelot and the Druids, is best friends with an immortal knight and one dude that's been raised from the fucking dead, is bonded to THEE oldest dragon they've ever heard of (and who is also nuttier than squirrel stew) and a semi-feral hatchling that barely listens to four (4) people max and hisses/bites/claws at the rest, and oh yeah, is married to a fucking Pendragon.
Family dinners must be a hoot and a half.
oh to be a fly on the wall when they finally make an audience in Camelot. oh to see Merlin's face morph from apprehension to wonder to exhaustion to horror because they're telling Arthur everything they know.
#obviously these guys arrive post battle of camlann and post magic ban being lifted#they heard about the new king of camelot being the once and future king wanted to see that for themselves (they have so many questions)#they create a dragonlord support group for merlin#honestly my question is when exactly did the dragonlord population start dimishing#sure okay we can say during the Purge and Uther isn't one for mercy so he would totally go on a warpath...but they're dragonlords and yet#they lost to a mad king who only had knights on his side.#theory: dragonlord population was dwindling long before the Purge#other kingdoms in Abion were growing suspicious and wary of dragolords and their ability to “control” dragons#many kings felt threatened by it and sought to exterminate them#paranoia for magic prob been around long before the Purge (twas only the catalyst for a century long tension bt royals and sorcerers)#think WW1 kind of tension between kings and dragonlords: kingdoms were beginning to stabilize/unify; territories were drawn out#oh bro i am now actually very interested in exploring the events leading up to the Purge#my theory: Ambrosious the king said to “unite” Albion that first time had issues with gaining fealty from dragonlords#dragonlords saw themselves as neutral ambassadors but Ambrosious saw them as threats; they reached some treaty but the animosity stayed#every line of succession you have a king seeking to get dragonlords under their rule and dragonlords refusing#then maybe a king or so before Uther less heirs for dragonlords occur; less eggs hatch or are allowed to hatch (kings find them and keep#the prized eggs in their vaults full of treasure blatantly ignoring the very sacred and important dragonlord customs)#but then the Purge comes and now many dragonlords are hunted down and killed and many leave to never return#so yeah maybe Balinor was the last dragonlord on Albion by s2 finale but not because they all died but bc he was the last one who stayed#and lived since everyone else now reside elsewhere in the world refusing to rebuild the bridge the kings had burned#bbc merlin#dragonlords#headcanons#asks
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“back to the blooming grove” followed by “smoke fills the room” on the wildemount soundtrack. ... .. . 😐 say sike right now matthew.
ok but for real, it fits so perfectly with ikithon showing up in ep141 like its got to be about that.. . the way th strings spike (idk music terms) a minute in, the tenseness of them building too ,, thats tmn smelling th smoke, trying the door but it wont open, trying the window, the clays trying to gather their things, etc etc .. . its so good i lov it
#(talking abt the new soundtrack that came out today btw)#kiddo say#the way my stomach dropped when matthew mercer was like 'you begin to smell smoke'#ikithon saying '“You wouldn’t want history to repeat itself”#to caleb. with families trapped inside a burning home..#the scream i scrumpt#i forgot i wrote a fic abt the aftermath of that . bc also i am lowkey sad that its like.. the clays experienced a trauma . a big trauma in#the literal last ep .. .#and its not dealt with#like a house fire is a traumatic thing#and its not just their home its a sacred temple#like .. . man : (((
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Listening to Cornelia street and got sad
#barefoot in the kitchen sacred new beginnings that became my religion#listen I hope I never lose you
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Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 8
A/N- thank you guys so much for being patient with me, I know that cliffhanger shook everyone up but I promise your patience will be rewarded!
Pairing- Jake Seresin x Reader (OC Stormy)
Warnings- injuries, cursing, smut
Song inspo- “Like I’m gonna lose you” - Meghan Trainor
It had been nearly 6 weeks since your accident, ejecting over the ocean in an aircraft during a dogfight which resulted in your shoot not properly deploying, sending you spiraling towards the ocean at a speed that thankfully didn’t kill you or your pilot. The emergency team that life flighted you to Maryland had to sedate you heavily to manage your pain, so excruciating that it required what the doctor had called a medically induced coma. Broken collarbone, broken left wrist, fractured femur and a gnarly concussion that had you out for several days, waking up alive certainly not what you were expecting; the first thing that caught your eyes was the golden blonde hair and green eyes of the man you loved. Jake had been there through it all, every sleepless night, surgery, pt until you were finally released to go back to your home in Pensacola. You knew your godfather had facilitated some sort of miracle to allow Jake so much time away from his job and for that you couldn’t be more grateful, Uncle Beau couldn’t be your support team so he made sure you had everything you needed.
You were exhausted, the plane ride had been painful and as much as you’d tried to put on a brave face Jake could tell you were suffering, he got you inside and settled in bed and refused to let you do anything other than rest, you knew he had to be running on fumes but if he was he didn’t show it. You weren’t wrong, he was wrung out both emotionally and physically but if he stopped pushing forward he knew he’d break down, there had been nights when you were sedated that he worried you wouldn’t get through it and having to face life alone without you was too much for his heart to bear. Now that he had you home and safe he couldn’t imagine going back to North Island, let alone watching you get back into your jet, the thought sent a shudder through him; losing you was never something he’d imagined before all of this but now it consumed his every waking moment. It wasn’t healthy, and he was a bad liar so he knew you could tell he was fraying at the edges, your doctor had suggested that it would be beneficial for you both to do therapy together or separate and he was sure that was an option that needed to be explored. He started a load of laundry and as the clothes swirled in the washer he scrolled through his phone to find admiral Simpsons number, maybe requesting a transfer could give him the peace he needed to sleep at night.
A week goes by, pt is going well, your godfather has extended Jake’s leave once again but his request for transfer was denied (which you expected and told him at least 1,000 times you didn’t need him to move across the country to babysit you), but you could tell his nerves were shot. when you woke up most nights he wasn’t in the bed, usually in the living room reading or watching tv, sometimes on a run that would last for hours. Therapy hadn’t been easy the first session, you’d rehashed the drama of your crash and had ended it in tears, you’d been assured it would get easier but it felt like it never would, especially with the walls it felt like Jake was building around you. He treated you like glass and it was becoming more and more frustrating, he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his head, he definitely wouldn’t sleep with you and all you’d gotten were a handful of kisses and hand holding since you’d come back to Florida. It felt like he was pushing you away and that was what you knew would push you over the edge, injuries you could heal from but losing him? That would destroy you.
Jake of course is clueless to your fears, he is just pushing through each day trying to make sure you are healthy and getting better, the thought hasn’t even occurred to him that he’s been distant, how could he be? He’s with you all the time! But when he gets back from his nearly 10 mile run the tension he hadn’t noticed is palpable, you’ve somehow showered and changed without him and when he catches your eyes from your spot on the couch he knows you are ready for a fight. He’s seen that look over a dozen times but never aimed at him, the storm is raging in your features, jaw clenched and eyes red rimmed with tears; you’ve been crying and somehow it’s his fault.
“Baby what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you wait for me? You shouldn’t be doing anything by yourself-“ he started but you waved your hand dismissively and continued to scowl and tear up, he didn’t know what was going on but whatever he’d done he would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. “I’m not hurt, I managed to take my brace off to shower and put it back on by myself, that’s not the problem. The problem is us.” You said the last part in almost a whisper as you burst into tears, you’d never been much for crying when you were upset but everything had gotten so overwhelming and you couldn’t get your thoughts together, Jake surged forward to scoop you up and it didn’t matter that he was sweaty and gross you needed his touch more than you could say. You clawed at his skin and gasped out as you tried to stall your tears, pulling at his face to kiss you and he reciprocated but continued to hold you as gently as possible, afraid to jostle you too much and hurt your leg. Your eyes looked wild as he pulled you back a little to calm you down, but you kept clinging to him and trying to pull him closer, he didn’t want to stop but the fear of hurting you was prevalent so he pulled back completely and stood up, only to be met with another round of tears. “Hey hey, you gotta talk to me sugar I don’t understand what’s going on? You’re scaring me baby, just tell me what it is and I’ll fix it ok?” You looked at him and huffed like a petulant child and he almost laughed but knew it would only make it worse, something was eating you up and he didn’t have a clue where to start. “I don’t understand how you don’t get it, you’re doing it to me right now! You’re pushing me away, I’m not made of glass Jake! You’ve barely touched me since we got home, it’s like you don’t even want me anymore and I can’t stand it!” You wailed out and he had never felt more idiotic in his life. He had been so focused on your recovery that it had never even occurred to him that you would want him like that right now, but of course you did; you needed him physically just like he always had when things were hard and somehow he’d completely missed it. You were still sniffling as he ran his hand over his face and chuckled, which made you scrunch your face up angrily at him because how was this funny? He had been acting like an ass, of course he’d done everything to be your caretaker but damnit you wanted your boyfriend.
“Oh sweet thing I’m so sorry, I really have been stupid huh?” He said as he stepped back into your space and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I didn’t realize, baby, can I fix it? Take you to bed and show you how sorry I am?” You nodded furiously and put your hands out for him to scoop you up, letting him carry you down the hall to the bedroom as you kissed his face and neck, running your hands through his sweaty hair and down his shoulders. He still treats you like your fragile, but it’s in the form of soft touches and gentle kisses placed all over your body as he removes your clothes, there’s a reverence in the way he loves you, you’d missed the intimacy of being with him so much it hurt, and now that he knew what you needed you knew he’d give you everything. He could tell you were irritated by the leg brace, couldn’t quite get close to him the way you wanted, you were terrible at hiding it with your furrowed brows and frustrated huffs as you tried to gain leverage and push up against him. He stilled you with a hand on your hips and kissed you sweetly on the forehead trying to smooth away the irritation. “You’re so stubborn, lay still and be a good girl ok baby girl I’m gonna get you there I promise, be sweet for me like I know you can.” You huffed out again but did what he asked, watching as he kissed down your torso and hitched your good leg over his shoulder, you were already so wet and gasping for him but he was going to draw this out as long as possible, you said you needed him to touch you so he would until you couldn’t take it anymore.
He was so damn lucky, and he knew it. He could’ve lost you, missed out on moments like this, watching you come undone for him as he tasted you over and over again until you were a crying mess, taking you to the precipice as you writhed and begged for him to let you cum, but he wouldn't let you just yet, white knuckling the sheets and sobbing his name, pussy leaking all over his hands and mouth as your beautiful eyes rolled back, it was heaven on earth being with you like this and he’d never take it for granted. You were positive that you’d come out of your own skin if he didn’t let you come soon, pulling at his hair and pleading him with wasn’t working, and soon you were too far gone to even do that, just letting little noises out as you rolled your head back and forth and gasped his name, and finally he pulled away from you, climbing back up your body to sloppily lick into your mouth, he was covered in you and it was sinful, you couldn’t stop bucking into him and squirming and he just chuckled as he groped your chest and kissed your neck. “Jake- I get it ok, I was being a brat just- just please please fuck me, need it oh fuck please please” you couldn’t stop babbling even as he began to glide his cock through your slick, and he slid into you with no resistance, your body so wound up that you couldn’t stop, immediately clamping down on him and succumbing to your orgasm. He growled into your neck at how good you were, continuing to fuck you through it as you gushed all over him and onto the sheets, he’d been so turned on by edging you that he was hopeless to hold back his own orgasm, thrusting into you hard a few times and spilling into you, both of you sweat slicked and sated, finally feeling like maybe you’d made it through the worst of this season of life.
You’d fallen asleep shortly after, going in and out as he cleaned you up and tucked you in, promises to come back after he started the laundry. You knew it hadn’t been long because the sun was still out but when you woke his side of the bed was still made and cold, so you hobbled down the hall until you could hear him talking to someone on the phone. “I know Mama, she’s gonna be alright but I don’t know how to leave her, I’m scared to death to let her out of my sight let alone in her jet again. Yeah, they’re sending me back next week, I’m gonna do everything I can to make things easier but- I don’t know mama I can ask if she wants the company, she’s got an extra room but I don’t want to overwhelm her, I just want to keep her safe.” You could hear the rawness in his voice, and your heart broke, you weren’t ready to be without him either but he had to go back, you’d already been given too many favors and the navy wasn’t likely to give anymore. “Jake” you called to him and he fumbled with the phone and swiped his eyes, looking up at you with the saddest smile you’d ever seen. “Tell your mama I’d love to have her here, you’re right I could use the company and we are definitely overdue for the girl time.” There it was, his thousand watt smile you fell in love with, he crossed the room to scoop you in his arms and you could see the relief on his face. You swiped the phone from his hand and laughed, “Hey Mama Leigh, how about we order you that plane ticket? We’ve got all sorts of catching up to do, and you can fill me in on all Jake’s most embarrassing stories.”
Leigh Seresin was the very picture of a southern grandma, styled blonde hair and perfect makeup, but none of the catty attitude, just warmth and kindness. When you and Jake picked her up from the airport she pulled you both up into a hug, fussing at you for not using your crutches and producing a big container of homemade chocolate chip cookies. She reminded you so much of your grandmother in so many ways, she wasn’t pushy but she wouldn’t let you lift a finger, making sure you were settled and then ushering Jake into the kitchen to help her make dinner as you dozed on the couch. She knew you were the one for her son, could see it on his face months ago when he’d admitted that you two were together, she wasn’t surprised one bit, she’d known for years that he had a thing for you and eventually you two would figure it out. Checking to make sure you were still asleep she dug through her never ending coach bag (Jake always called her Mary poppins because she seemed to have everything) and produced a small velvet box. “You said you wanted me to give this to you when you were ready, and I know right now may not be the right time but son one day it will be. She’s the right one sweetheart, I can feel it in my bones.” There inside the little green box was the thing he’d dreamed about putting on your finger from that very first weekend, Grandma Seresin’s vintage engagement ring. He knew he’d have to wait a little while, let you heal up all the way and see where your career took you but holding it in his hand and watching you sleep on the couch he couldn’t help but feel like everything was falling into place.
Jake Seresin masterlist
Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @djs8891 @mygyn @pinkdaisies9285 @mrsevans90 @seitmai @jessicab1991 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @86laura11 @its-the-pilot @jostan456 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @kmc1989 @nouis-bum @dempy @floydsglasses
#top gun maverick#jake seresin#top gun maverick fanfiction#jake hangman x you#jake hangman smut#jake hangman fic#jake hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin smut#jake hangman seresin#sacred new beginnings#Jake and Stormy
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Sacred New Beginnings (21/?)
Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.
Ten x Rose AU
This Chapter: Teen, ~5600 words
AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 |
johnnylumic: The gig is up! James Noble’s new bedfellow is finally revealed! [read more]
margaretblaineofficial: Breaking! James Noble and Plain Jane romance is outed! [read more]
henryvanstatten: James Noble is back to female companionship! The cad can’t seem to make up his mind.
dianagoddardeditor: The offices of CelebriTruth would like to acknowledge James Noble has always been forthcoming regarding his sexual identity and we stand tall with the bisexual sector of the LGBTQA+ community.
iantojonesofficial: He’s pansexual you dolt
nerdynardole: He’s attracted to pans??
danthemanbartock: “Bisexual sector”?? We’re not a bloody stocks group lmao.
masterharrysaxon: ew he likes women? lame.
missyursofine: ur lame
realvictorkennedy: Sources claim that James Noble’s ex-girlfriend Reinette Poisson of the up and coming film The Fireplace (in theatres January 5) is “happy” if ex is happy. Further comment was declined.
annedroidunit: No news from James Noble himself on this blossoming new romance. Should we be taking this with a grain of salt? Is everyone overreacting? [read more]
courtneywoods: Omg that’s Miss Tyler! No way. How’d she manage to snag James Noble??
yvonnehartmanhost: This is Yvonne Hartman of London’s Hot Radio Hits. I’d love to chat more with you about Miss Tyler. She’s your schoolteacher? Could I private message you and have a chat?
courtneywoods: Whoa, really? What’s in it for me?
yvonnehartmanhost: We adequately compensate all our sources, don’t you worry dear. Message coming soon.
oOoOo
James can’t sleep. No matter how many sheep he counts, or how thoroughly he cocoons himself in his blankets, he remains frustratingly awake. Beside him, Rose is curled up on her side. With how still and quiet she’s been despite his rustling, James presumes she’s happily lost in her own dreamland.
At least one of us is.
It’s nearly two in the morning when he gives up on the idea of sleep and slips out from beneath the sheets. He pulls on a discarded pair of pants and a soft, faded t-shirt before padding out of the bedroom and towards… Well, nowhere. Where is he to go, exactly? On nights like this when he’s too wound up for rest, he usually blasts music through the house and either runs on his treadmill until he’s about to collapse, or he plays his guitar in the music or living room until he lulls himself into a semi-conscious state.
Neither option is available to him though. Not with Rose in his room upstairs and his mother—who had arrived in the early afternoon just in time to see what had to be his and Rose’s thousandth game of Mario Kart—in the guest room downstairs. He sighs and putters down the steps, his footsteps making only the barest whisper of a sound.
The door to where his mum sleeps is shut, and when he presses his ear to the wood, he hears the familiar droning of her white-noise machine. Ever since he was a small child, his mother needed some sort of sound to fall asleep to. She claims her ever-present tinnitus is too loud if there is nothing else for her ears to focus on.
Satisfied, James moves to the kitchen and flicks on the dim light above the stove. It bathes the room in a muted yellow glow that casts long, alien shadows across the floor and cabinets. He’d always had a touch of insomnia, and when he was a boy, he often woke up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep. When this happened, he would go to the kitchen and turn on the light above the stove to make all sorts of puppet-creatures, entertaining himself until his mother woke up and scolded him for being awake at such an early hour.
With a small, nostalgic smile, James extends his pointer and middle fingers of his right hand and bounces a shadow bunny across the floor as he makes his way to the fridge. Though he isn’t particularly hungry, he nevertheless pulls out an apple and spends the next ten minutes slowly nibbling on the fruit as he leans against the countertop.
What a mess they’re in. Photos of him and Rose are still going viral, and Donna has received dozens upon dozens of interview requests from a variety of magazines and newspapers. She has denied each and every one of them, even those from the more reputable journals that he normally likes to interview with, claiming that he and Rose would like to be left in peace for the time being until this all blows over.
“He’ll make a statement when he’s ready,” Donna had tweeted, but to no avail; his phone is still blowing up with all sorts of notifications. He has half a mind to deactivate all of his social media and chuck his phone in the Thames for good measure.
His record label called him earlier that afternoon to inform him that they are tightening security around the recording studio and stationing more agents and officers around him and his home. They once again implored him to find a place to live that was more easily securable, as they’d been doing for the past two years as he’d grown exponentially more famous.
Maybe he’s being stupid by being so stubborn, but this is his home, the first place he was able to buy with his own money that he’d made with his own skills and talents. After years of renting grubby little flats and having all of two pieces of furniture and five outfits to his name, he finally has somewhere that’s his. A place where every need is met, and more.
But was every need being met? Wasn't basic safety part of a home?
James groans and chucks his apple core into the bin with slightly more force than necessary and rinses the sticky juice from his hands. He then grabs a bottle of expensive whiskey his label gifted him for his birthday from his liquor cabinet and sulks his way upstairs. His skin is crawling with tension, with the need to do something, anything, to keep this dark cloud from completely engulfing him, from screaming at him that he’s worthless and troublesome and a danger to those he loves.
He ends up in his music room and shuts the door behind him. As long as he isn’t banging on piano keys or beating on his guitar strings as though he needs people from the next city over to hear him, it shouldn’t be that loud, should it?
James grabs his guitar and sinks into his couch. He uncaps the whiskey bottle and glugs down a few swallows. It burns on the way down, but then pleasant warmth blooms through his belly and up his chest. He takes another drink, then balances the open bottle precariously on the sofa cushion beside him.
With how he’s slouched, he can’t really hold his guitar properly, but he makes do as best he can and starts to pluck on the strings in no particular sort of melody. He’s just playing random notes, enjoying the reverberating twang that seems to echo in his very bones.
He remembers the first time he’d held a guitar. He was thirteen and had signed up for after-school music lessons because that was the only activity that had been free. His classmates all awkwardly and clumsily held their instruments as though they were venomous vipers, but not him. The moment he held the ratty old second-hand (or third- or fourth-hand) guitar, it had become an extension of his body. Maybe it was because he was already so gangly that it made it easier for him to hold the instrument or for his fingers to fly across the fretboard to make different notes, but he took to it like a fish to water.
He’d mastered the keys and chords nearly as fast as his teacher taught him, gulping it all down with relish. Hot Cross Buns had nothing on him, and his teacher matched him stride for stride. She gave him new music to practice, and told him that if he signed up for the school’s orchestra, he would be able to rent a guitar to take home. He’d begged his mother to let him do it, and bless her heart, she scavenged up enough money and had worked out a payment plan with the school to afford the required renter’s fees. (Apparently the school didn’t trust a bunch of stupid teenagers with hundreds of dollars’ worth of equipment… shocking.)
It wasn’t long after joining the orchestra that James asked to be taught the piano. His teacher was more than happy to oblige, and the rest was history.
He wishes his teacher could see him now. Miss Brown. Lovely Miss Brown. She’d passed years ago to complications with a health concern. James was in uni at the time. He hopes that if there is an afterlife, she can see what has become of him and know that it was all down to her that he’s made a name for himself.
James is an hour into the whiskey bottle and mindless strumming when a quiet knock sounds on the door. It opens a heartbeat later, and Rose pokes her head in. Her hair is mussed, there are pillow creases across her cheeks, and she’s got small bits of makeup clumped at the corners of her eyes. She’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.
But with that wave of affection comes a pang of guilt. He winces and says, “Sorry, did I wake you?”
Rose shakes her head and stays by the door, ringing her hands in front of herself. She’s wearing one of his t-shirts, which makes him smile. She looks great in his clothes, if he does say so himself.
“No, no I wasn’t really sleeping. Not much, anyways. I felt you get up, and you didn’t come back. I wanted to check on you. Are you all right?”
He shrugs. “Are either of us all right?”
A small, ironic smile quirks up her lips. “No, I suppose not. Right. I’ll just… leave you alone then.”
“No, you don’t have to go,” he blurts, because now that he knows she’s up too, he’s desperate for her company. “Please stay. Have a… have a drink with me.”
He stupidly holds up the whiskey bottle and sloshes it in her direction. “It’s vintage.”
She snorts. “I’ve no idea what that means.”
“Nor do I, but it sounded fancy.” He pats the seat next to him. “Come come.”
She does, and plops down beside him, her bare thigh brushing across his and sending his skin tingling. He takes a swig of whiskey before handing it to her. He slouches into her, taking care to rotate the guitar so the neck of it won’t impale her, and rests his head on her shoulder.
“What does m’lady wish to hear?” he asks, strumming a chord from a song he’d recorded last week.
“Anything. Everything,” she sighs, leaning her cheek onto his hair. They’re seated so intimately that a swell of safety overtakes him. Nothing can get to them in this room. The world can’t see them, can’t touch them. He yearns for that to be true.
“Have you ever played guitar?” he asks suddenly. “You fiddled with my piano a while ago, but what about guitar?”
“Once, ages ago in school. Required music class. Teacher spent two weeks teaching us guitar only for us to forget it once the unit was done.”
He laughs. “Sounds about right. Here.”
James takes the whiskey from her and leans forward to set it on the coffee table, then he passes the instrument to Rose. She looks awkward with it, and so he spends the next few minutes coaxing her arms and fingers into the proper positions. She’s still awkward, but much less so.
“You don’t need to strangle the poor thing,” he drawls, seeing how white the tips of her fingers are on the fret strings. “That’s a good way to get a blister in all of five minutes.”
Rose sticks her tongue out at him, but obliges and loosens her grip around the neck of the guitar.
“Good. Let’s learn a few chords, eh?”
Maybe it’s self-centered of him, but he teaches her a simplified version of five chords he used in one of the songs on his upcoming album. He makes sure the chords she needs to play will keep her pinkie and ring finger in one location so she only needs to keep track of two fingers. Beginners’ tutorial, and all that. He slowly helps her move her fingers along the fret to press down on the correct strings for each of the chords.
“Index and middle fingers on these two strings… then move them here… then there…”
Again and again, he works with her until she masters the chords. Rose catches on quickly, only needing slight promptings to readjust her fingers to the proper places.
“See, you’re practically a pro!” he crows when she successfully strums all five chords in succession, albeit quite slowly.
She rolls her eyes. “Come off it, this is nowhere near as complex as the music you make.”
“Not true,” he argues. “I wrote an entire song using these chords. Let me show you.”
Rose watches him curiously as he takes the instrument from her and angles himself in her direction so she has a clear view of the positionings of his fingers. He strums the notes slowly, echoing what she’d played mere seconds ago, and then steadily picks up the tempo and intensity, plucking away in a pattern that has become so familiar to him by now.
Dun, duh-duh dun, duh-duh dun, duh duh, duh-duh-duh-duh.
Down, up up down, up up down, up down, up-down-up-down.
Music fills the room, and he hums along to the lyrics he knows goes with this melody. The music is achingly gentle and soft to match the tone of the song, which is about the night he and Rose talked out their fight and agreed to start genuinely dating. The night he suspected he had fallen head-over-heels in love with her, and dared to hope she might love him, too.
He plays through the entire song, sans lyrics, too lost in the music to realize he’s gone beyond proving his point and is instead just boasting now. But Rose doesn’t seem to mind. She watches him, entranced, her eyes darting from his hands to his face. There’s an inscrutably beautiful expression on her face, awed and delighted and reverent all at once, which makes him feel like he’s created something secret and sacred that belongs to them alone.
When the song ends, she carefully leans over the guitar, cradles his cheeks in her hands, and kisses him. He sighs into her mouth, closing his eyes and letting her surround him. He sets his guitar to the side, wanting his arms to be full of her and not the wood of the instrument.
She notices his lap is empty, and takes it upon herself to fill the newly-vacated space. He groans at the heat of her around him. Her hands slip from his cheeks to tangle in his hair, scratching and tugging in the way he loves best. He’s melting, all of the black emotions from earlier having long since bled away to instead create room for this brilliant, swelling heat building between them.
There’s nowhere else he’d rather be but here, with her hands in his hair, her mouth on his, her body pressed to his. Chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. He can feel every point of contact between, like sparks being set alight across his skin.
His dips his hands beneath her shirt—his shirt—to splay across the expanse of her back. Her skin is warm and smooth, so perfectly touchable, and he can’t help but map out the familiar territory as though it’s their first time again. Her lips and tongue tease and play with his, pulling shuddering groans from him as sensation surges through him. Her scent and her taste and her touch, that’s all he’s aware of. The world could be crumbling around them, and he would be none the wiser, nor would he care.
He holds her tightly, digging his fingertips into the skin overtop her spine as he silently pleads for more. There is an unbearable ache deep inside him, and he gasps when Rose aligns their hips to give him friction, kissing him more deeply. His lips are tingling and his body is throbbing with want, but he doesn’t want this moment to end. He wants this to build up forever, for the next second to feel even better than this current second.
She reaches down and fumbles with the hem of his shirt, tugging up, up, up until she’s able to fling it to the floor. He doesn’t get the chance to reciprocate, as she discards her own top just as quickly as his. She’s perfect, so perfect, and he can’t believe she’s his; his chest tightens, overwhelmed with the depth of this emotion he’s never truly felt before.
But then she puts his hands on her breasts and tenderness slips to the sidelines in favor of his building desire. He leans forward, away from her searching mouth to instead latch his lips onto the jut of her collarbone. She shivers in his lap and tightens her grip on his hair, a silent request for him to stay there for a little while. He obliges, kissing and nipping at her chest and neck until the skin has flared crimson. Not enough to leave any lingering evidence, but enough to mark her for the rest of the night.
When he moves away from her neck, Rose hauls his face towards hers to kiss him desperately, finesse long since gone but it still feels fucking amazing. He’s so hard now that he thinks he’s two seconds away from begging to be inside her, and yet he’s glad to stay like this, kissing her and being kissed by her.
“Want you,” she mumbles into his mouth, writhing down on the hard length of him and hissing at stimulation. “Please.”
As if she had to ask. He wraps an arm around her hips and slips his other hand down the front of her knickers. Wet heat radiates around his fingers as he carefully pushes them inside of her.
“Angle’s weird for more,” he murmurs into the side of her neck. “Fingers okay? Don’t wanna let go.”
“Fingers are fuckin’ great,” she rasps, rocking into his hand. “More. Faster.”
He smiles into her skin and picks up the pace. He anchors his arm around her waist, hugging her tightly as his other hand works between her legs, driving her higher and higher. She’s shaking against him, so close now, and he redoubles his efforts. He licks a line up her neck then kisses her right below her ear, where he knows she’s most sensitive, and grins when she softly cries out.
“James…”
He fucking loves when she says his name like this. Like there’s nothing else in her mind other than him.
“Let me see you,” he whispers.
He curls his fingers into her once, twice, three more times before she breaks. She arches, writhing herself into his hand as she trembles around him. She moans through clenched teeth, making every effort to be quiet as she rides out her high.
Expertly, he brings her down, slowing the motions of his fingers and not touching her where he knows she’s too sensitive. She lets out low groans of pleasure as she slumps into him, breathing erratically. She tucks her forehead into his neck.
A moment passes, then two, and he extricates his hand from her pants, surreptitiously wiping it on his own. He’s still achingly hard, but knows his turn will come soon. Right now, he’s happy to have his arms full of Rose.
She’s not, though. When he goes to rest his cheek in her hair, she straightens and gives him a searing, toe-curling kiss. All his patience is suddenly gone. He lets out the most undignified whine as he grabs her arse and grinds up into her. She grins into his mouth, and slowly, so fucking slowly, rubs herself up… and down… and up… until he thinks he’s going to combust right here on the couch.
“Rose,” he rasps. “I need… please… touch me…”
She keeps that infuriatingly steady pace, and part of him is annoyed, but a greater part of him is so fucking aroused and wants her to keep going as she is. She tilts his head back, using her slight height advantage from being in his lap to press him fully into the couch. He’s helpless to do anything but follow her lead, and trust her to take care of him.
“Close your eyes,” she whispers into his ear, blowing softly and sending a violent shudder through him.
He does, letting the blackness envelop him. His pulse is pounding so furiously through his body that he can see it beating behind his eyes. He rubs himself into her again, chasing that delicious friction, desperate for more.
Rose dances her fingers down his chest, scratching through the light dusting of hair on his pecs then down his belly. His muscles jump and quiver at her touch while he ruts up into her. He’s sure he could finish like this, and would be happy to, if not for wondering what Rose wanted to do to him.
Bless her, she doesn’t make him wait any longer. For a moment he’s confused as her weight shifts off his thighs, but then it settles on the cushion beside him. Her hands are at the waistband of his pants, and he wriggles to help her get them halfway down his arse, just enough to free him from the stuffy confines of the fabric.
And then she’s got her mouth on him.
James shudders out a groan and digs his nails into his palms to keep himself from thrusting up into her hot, wet mouth. He’s throbbing in time with his racing heart, and he can’t see anything through his shut eyes, but God he can feel everything. The tease of her tongue, the oh-so careful scrape of her teeth, the pressure as she sucks…
“Oh, fuck,” he croaks, his voice cracking around the word.
She covers his clenched fist, coaxing his fingers to relax, to open. He thinks she wants to hold his hand, but then she takes him by the wrist and moves his hand up until he brushes the silky locks of her hair. He opens his eyes for just a moment, and Christ the sight of her kneeling beside him, her mouth on his cock, her eyes closed in her own enjoyment… it nearly makes him come on the spot.
He holds on though, not really wanting this to end. Once he has his fingers tangled in her hair, he lets his eyes flutter shut again, happy to let his other senses surge into overdrive. He doesn’t guide her movements, knowing she doesn’t like it when men do that; instead, he relishes being able to touch her like this while she gives him the best goddamned blowjob of his goddamned life.
She gets one of her hands into the fray, playing with the base of his cock where her mouth can’t quite reach, then lower to his balls. She rolls them and squeezes them, whiting out his vision and stealing his breath. The pressure in his cock mounts, throbbing and aching in warning.
“Rose,” he gasps. “I’m gonna come.”
“‘Kay,” she mumbles around him, sucking him even harder, and Jesus fucking Christ he’s done.
Heat and electricity sizzles down his spine as he releases into her mouth, moaning and cursing and hissing wordless sounds. Rose strokes him through it, seemingly able to time her upstrokes with each pulse of his cock, heightening this pleasure into something otherworldly. It’s a good thing he’s sitting, because he can’t quite feel his legs and he thinks his knees have been replaced with jelly as he trembles and shudders through his orgasm.
When he’s done, he comes to to the sensation of Rose kissing his shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around his hips while one of her hands idly strokes his softening cock. He shivers, sated and sleepy and so, so satisfied.
Rose tilts her head up to give him a pleased smile. “Good?”
He doesn’t deign to reply to that, and instead kisses the grin right off her face.
oOoOo
James can’t concentrate, can’t focus as he watches the clock. He and his driver dropped Rose off at her school an hour ago, where police had to set up a barricade to keep reporters away from the building. Rose’s cheeks were scarlet as she saw all of the attention around her place of employment.
“Why do they care this much about me?” she’d murmured, covering her face with her hands.
“Because they care that much about me, and I care about you,” he replied grimly, thunking his head into the back of his seat. “I’m so sorry. This is madness.”
They’d had to slowly inch through the school traffic, showing identification multiple times before Idris made it to the front of the school. Several other teachers were making their way into the building, looking both frustrated and curious about all the ruckus.
“Good luck,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say as Rose braced herself to slip out of the car. “Idris can pick you up again after work. I… I don’t think you should go home yet. You can stay with me again. If you want.”
Rose nodded silently, then drew in a deep breath. Before she opened her car door, she leaned over and kissed him. When they pulled apart, she gave him a heartbreakingly feeble smile and said, “Have a good day, dear.”
He forced his own smile for her sake, but his stomach was in knots. She had a meeting with her superiors that morning, likely demanding to know what the hell was going on. He offered to be there with her, but conceded that she was right in saying he would probably just make it worse.
That’s how he finds himself in the recording studio, sipping at a strong coffee that he doesn’t really taste and watching the clock tick aimlessly by. He asked her to let him know how her meeting went, and surely by now it should be over. It’s almost eight in the morning; the meeting can’t still be going on, can it?
But there’s no word from Rose for another hour. By now, he’s going mental, convinced she came to her senses and realized she needs to break up with him. This theory eventually evolves into some mad lunatic having broken into her school and murdered her like in one of those American crime dramas. He’d sent her a little “Hope you’re okay 💜” text a half hour ago, but the lack of response only cements these insane thoughts into his head.
Finally, at quarter-past nine, his phone lights up with a call from Rose. He answers it immediately.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
There’s nothing but a small sniffle on the other end of the line, and his stomach drops.
“Rose?” he asks, forcing his voice to remain gentle. “What happened?”
Sniffle. “M’on leave. ‘Til after the holidays. Security concern with me bein’ here right now. Can… can someone come get me? I don’t know where to go.”
“We’re on our way,” he promises, taking his phone away from his ear for a few seconds to fire off a text to his driver. “We’ll come pick you up. Are you at the school?”
“Yeah. I started for the bus stop. Wasn’t thinkin’. More photographers saw me. I ran back inside. Everyone’s lookin’ at me like… like I’m an alien.”
“Oh, Rose,” he whispers, his stomach aching for her. Idris pops her head into the office, and he mimes driving as he rushes toward her. “We’ll be there soon, all right? Stay inside. We’ll be there soon.”
He ends the call, and together, he and Idris make for the car.
“Rose?” she asks. “The school?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Bless her, Idris doesn’t ask for more details. He’s always liked that about her: she’s willing to listen to him whenever he wants to talk, but will never force him to speak when he’d prefer to stay silent. He’s had other drivers who make small talk, or ask him about whatever latest story about him went viral, but not her. He prays she never decides to quit her job.
Traffic is manageable and they make good time to the school. There are still officers posted around the school, but not quite as many. He can see reporters and photographers lingering at the café across the street, and he finds himself itching to throw hot coffee on all of them.
He takes a deep breath, forcing those awful emotions away. He’s better than that. He’s better than them. Rose doesn’t need him being angry and vengeful right now, she needs him to be steady and comforting. He can do that. He’s the steadiest person in the world…
When they get to the front door, he nearly vaults out of the car to rush into the school, but a pointedly-cleared throat and the clack of the door locks activating stops him.
“Low profile,” Idris reminds him, and he sulks for a moment, but sends Rose a text that he’s here.
She emerges a moment later, pale-faced, with nothing but a laptop bag slung over one shoulder. James opens the door for her, and slides across the empty seat to give her room. The moment she settles herself, Idris takes off again, and he unbuckles his seatbelt to take Rose into his arms. She slumps, defeated, into him, and somehow that’s even worse than tears.
She takes a few minutes to tell him about her meeting, and how ultimately the school couldn’t justify putting their students in danger while she’s facing such sudden and viral recognition.
“How could I argue with that?” Rose sighs, rubbing at her temples as though warding off a headache. “’Cos it’s true. There’re so many unauthorized strangers near the school ’cos of me.”
“Because of stupid journalists,” he corrects, but it falls flat.
“They said they’ll reevaluate over the coming weeks. I might be able to return to work in January, if things have died down a bit.”
James desperately hopes it will, for her sake. He couldn’t bear it if he’s the reason Rose loses her job.
“Surely it’s illegal to sack you because of who you’re dating,” he says.
“I’m not sacked,” she reminds him. “I’m on leave. Really, I should be happy. Gettin’ paid to stay at home…” She looks far from happy, though. “I was about to start some of my favorite books with my kids. Frankenstein. Never Let Me Go. To Kill a Mockingbird. Now someone else gets to do it with them, and all I’ve got to look forward to when I get back is bloody Shakespeare.”
“Not a fan of Shakespeare?” he quips weakly.
“Shakespeare’s fine, but not the way they make us teach it in schools, all boring and textual, when it’s supposed to be a performance to be experienced. I’ve been trying to get the school to sponsor an annual theatre trip for the kids, but of course no one wants to invest in the languages and arts anymore.”
James makes a mental note to change that going forward. Yes, he’s sure his donations to various medical research charities are being put to good use, but how much money can he say he’s donated to music and art and literature? He’s ashamed to admit to himself he doesn’t know. How awful is that, given the arts are how he makes his living.
“I’m sorry.” The words feel hollow, but what more can he say? They’re so weak compared to the ache of sorrow buffeting him. It’s because of him that Rose can’t do the job she likes. Because of him that everyone wants to get a look at her. Because of him that her life has been turned upside down.
So it surprises him when Rose immediately says, “I’m not.” She threads her fingers through his and gives them a squeeze. “This… us… what we have together, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Wouldn’t trade you for the world.”
His throat swells shut, and all he can do is offer a weak smile and kiss her knuckles. It’s only then that he realizes Idris is absently driving through the streets of London, taking the routes she always takes whenever he asks if she can just drive him around for a while to nowhere in particular. Well, he supposes that’s right; he didn’t exactly tell Idris where to take them.
Before he makes an executive decision about their destination, he turns to Rose. “D’you wanna come see the studio?”
“Oh, I don’t want to distract you from your work.”
He waves a hand. “Nonsense. Album’s mostly recorded by now. Just a few more songs to tidy up, then it’s off to production. C’mon. Please? I think it’s “take your girlfriend to work” week.”
He shamelessly pouts, happy to see it trigger a laugh. Then she’s nodding, and they’re off.
He’s like a giddy little boy as he guides Rose into the studio. He gets her all checked in as a Very Important Guest, and apologizes when she has to sign multiple nondisclosure agreements before she’s permitted any farther.
“No unauthorized photos, videos, recordings, et cetera et cetera,” he explains, grimacing. “I’m not the only artist here. But you’ve been pretty social-media-phobic throughout our relationship, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about, eh?”
Rose is unbothered, and soon enough, she’s an official guest of James Noble. He guides her straight into his workspace, where his now-cold coffee and untouched guitar waits for him. Rose takes in the room with awe. He remembers feeling like that when he was first shown this place. It’s a large lounge space with cushy sofas and spacious desks, and half a dozen guitars resting on stands while a glossy grand piano stands proud in a corner by a window that looks out over the city. Adjacent is the recording booth, with well-insulated sound-proofed walls and a variety of microphones hanging from the ceiling. The recording booth alone is about the size his old studio flat had been.
“This is incredible,” Rose gasps, spinning slowly to take it all in.
“I’m very lucky.”
And really, he is. This office building is one of the best in the city. He and other major recording artists have their own dedicated rooms, while most other artists need to schedule appointments to use the other joint spaces. It was only after the major success of his third album that he was promoted to this room. If he ever falls from grace, he’ll be back to the shared studios.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asks, opening his phone to the app tied to the lovely little café in the basement of the building. “I’m a bit peckish and want a new coffee.”
“No, I haven’t. Bit too wound up to eat this morning.”
James places an order for a coffee for him and a tea for her, as well as two breakfast sandwiches to be delivered to his office. Within ten minutes, he and Rose are lounging on the couch, enjoying their breakfast in a peaceful silence.
He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to have Rose here in the studio. It’s not like he hasn’t played for her before. But somehow it’s much more… official.
He licks his fingers of lingering bacon grease then wipes them absently on his jeans before heading to his piano. “I told you about the holiday concert I’m part of in a few weeks. I planned to start rehearsing. Just sort of… putzing around with different carols I might have to sing.”
“Might have to sing?” she asks curiously.
“Yeah, I dunno what I’ll be singing ‘til the time of the show. An online auction will go out in the week leading up to the concert. People can donate a quid to vote on a holiday song for me to perform. They can donate another quid to vote on one of my own songs for me to perform intermittently throughout the show. It’s a charity concert, remember. Gotta get the public involved somehow.”
“Bet you’ll make a killin’ after this weekend’s drama,” she drawls, a small but genuine smirk on her face.
He rolls his eyes. One of the well-meaning higher-ups of his record label told him the same thing. All of his music has been streamed more frequently this past weekend, too. Really, this bit of viral recognition has been great for him professionally; usually that thrills him, but this time it just makes him sick.
“Part of my charm is my near-perfect memory,” he continues. “For my hour of the show, we won’t know the results of the poll ‘til I get on stage and the MC dramatically reveals them. This week I was gonna work on the new album and start practicing Christmas tunes so I don’t make a complete arse of myself on stage. So lay it on me, Rose Tyler—give me something to sing.”
Time flies. No, it soars. For the first time in over forty-eight hours, neither of them is sulky or maudlin; they’re carrying on, goofing around, and singing Christmas carols. James is delighted when Rose joins in, watching in awe as she duets perfectly with him. Her voice is beautiful.
She seems to realize what she’s done, and while her cheeks flare scarlet, she doesn’t stop. He makes an effort not to stare at her, to not make her uncomfortable, but he steals glances at every possible moment. He tries to make her laugh as often as he can too, embellishing his voice to near operatic proportions or giving himself silly little accents as he sings. The one that makes her laugh the hardest is a Southern American twang, and he falls back to it a few times.
Lunchtime comes and goes without them realizing it. They’re left alone for the day, to his relief. Professional courtesy, and all that. God, what an awful world it would be if all of his fellow celebrities were as nosey and gossipy as the paparazzi.
It’s mid-afternoon when he suggests they pack it in for the day. Rose gets up from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, bounds over to him, and throws her arms around him. He catches her, confused but very accepting of this affection, and he holds her tightly.
“Thank you. This morning was… well, kind of awful. But this afternoon was perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
He melts, and buries his nose into the side of her neck, breathing her in. “One day at a time. Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” she agrees, squeezing him harder and making no move to let go.
He doesn’t mind in the slightest. He rocks them slowly from side to side, rubbing long, slow strokes down her back and enjoying this perfect moment of peace. Everything is quiet. Everything is good.
And James thinks, dreams, dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, they can make this work.
#doctor who#ficandchips#dwfic#ten x rose#ten x rose au#james x rose#romance#smangst#my fic#sacred new beginnings#pls like and reblog to share with more people 🥲💜
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A transition phase. I now bleed in preparation with the new moon and no longer bleed when the moon is full. I’m beginning my journey to see what this means for me and what the universe is telling me. I paint my face with nu moon blood to make the connection between mind, body, physical, spiritual and place a drop over my third eye. My nectar is sacred and healing.
#transition#new moon#spiritual healing#divine feminine#moon blood#nectar#menstration#connection#divinity#goddess#magic blood#the sacred feminine#third eye#new beginnings#big tingz coming
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thinking about her again
#not for like the reasons you think its just a great song#sometimes you just need to lie on the floor with your eyes closed and the song blasting#crunchyposts#ts#its so GOOD like the voice crack on one of the “never walk cornelia street again”#its so EMOTIONAL and the guitar is so good and the lyrics are dkhsgfhdsgfdls#anyways#but like "you hold my hand on the street walk me back to that apartment years ago we were just inside barefoot in the kitchen sacred new#beginnings that became my religion“ combined with ”we blessed the rains on cornelia street memorize the creaks in the floor“#and like GOD “i get mystified by how this city screams your name”#Spotify
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Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift is so Buddiecore
#abandonment issues#buddie#song suggestions w/ sage#i thought you were leading me on#201 much?#*years ago we were just inside barefoot in the KITCHEN*#sacred NEW BEGINNINGS ~#a whole new you+starting over
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Cowboy Like Me has always been Mcwexler’s song and now I can’t stand that it’s gone from the happy interpretation of the song to the sad interpretation
YOU AND ME BOTH 😭💔💔💔
it's something i love about the song itself, whether they end up together is up to the listener, maybe she chooses to stay with him and they make their way forward despite the obstacles set against them (that was all before i locked it down), and forever is the sweetest con because they pull it off. his boots beneath her bed, they kiss and it's a wonder of the world. she's never gonna love again because she found everything she needs! or she's reminiscing about this magnetic, lawless love that lingers on despite them parting, and forever is the sweetest con because they tricked themselves for a while into thinking it could work, only to fall apart. she's never gonna love again because no one will ever be who he was, no one will see the truth of her again, takes one to know one.
it is the ultimate song for jimmy and kim in my heart, these two con artists who move guardedly through the world until they find connection and vulnerability with one another! who weren’t looking for love and then fell headfirst into it and understood each other’s truth!, (also the fact that the song begins after the story’s started, just like they have a whole history before the beginning of the show), and it aches that it's now the tragic version. never wanted love, just a fancy car...the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to mess this up...
you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life - never thought i'd meet you here. it could be love. we could be the way forward.
and i know i'll pay for it.
#CRYING#mcwexler#cowboy like me#forever is the sweetest con#a legal arrangement#bcs spoilers#taylor swift#it's added so much dimension to the song for me associating it with them though. i already loved it a lot and love its story#and its place from taylor's actual perspective (the way it's a retelling/expansion of ready for it and the bridge of cornelia street!)#(knew i was a robber first time that he saw me! stealing hearts and runnin' off and never saying sorry!)#(but if i'm a thief then he can join the heist and we'll move to an island-)#(back when we were card sharks playing games i thought you were leading me on...but then you called showed your hand...)#(barefoot in the kitchen sacred new beginnings that became my religion)#also on the subject of cornelia street: i hope i never lose you hope it never ends...that's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend...#it's wild how much those metaphors and scenarios fit jimmy and kim... :( i've had some tricks up my sleeve#takes one to know one#YOU'RE SO RIGHT ANON YOU GET IT <333#anonymous#letterbox
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my best friend is in London right now and she just sent a video in the gc of her walking down our old street in front of our old flat
#WALK ME BACK TO THAT APARTMENT#YEARS AGO WE WERE JUST INSIDE#BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS THAT BECAME MY RELIGION#🥹💗#I’m so curious to visit now that I’m older#I feel like a completely different person#the nostalgia would take over me I fear#I’m such a boring and jaded adult compared to who I was in London#sigh
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the way that maroon feels so much like a call back to cornelia street is just 😭😭😭😭
#barefoot in the kitchen sacred new beginnings#vs the one i was dancing with in New York no shoes#i hope i never lose you i hope it never ends#vs i lost you#😭😭😭😭#taylor swift#thinking a lot about this song in relation to other songs#also on a lighter note#i like how red was like#loving him was red#and maroon is#loving her was maroon#lmao#personal
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