#oh and fuck streaming and long live physical media

[rose-n-gunses]

ROUGH CUTT'S ALBUMS REMOVED FROM SPOTIFY?? MY DISAPPOINTMENT IS IMMEASURABLE AND MY LIFE IS RUINED

#SPOTIFY PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME #DONT THEY KNOW THAT MY ENTIRE PSYCHOLOGICAL WELLBEING IS COMPLETELY DEPENDENT ON BEING ABLE TO LISTEN TO PAUL SHORTINO AT WILL #what am i supposed to do?? #go listen to everything else hes ever sung ever??? #(i already do that) #in reality i will be purchasing the CDs and hoping spotify puts them back #its a licensing thing i think #but like #OUGH #today has been chock full of things to bitch and moan about but im done now #oh and fuck streaming and long live physical media #😭 #rough cutt my beloved <3 #just r's thoughts #r's sick beats

[squidhominid]

15 Questions for 15 Friends

Tagged by @venort!

Are you named after anyone?

Oh this is a fun one. So, the name I picked for myself after coming out as trans comes from the character Ellie Williams, from The Last of Us. I almost named myself 'Emma', after the Japanese name for Lady Timpani from Super Paper Mario. My deadname, which I won't share for obvious reasons, comes from... I think my great grandpa? I'm not 100% sure. Something like that. And my dad almost gave me the name Jean-Luc, after Picard, y'know, Star Trek, or Jean-Claude, after Jean-Claude Killy (although I suspect this was just a failed cover story to try and convince my mom to go with Jean-Luc).

When was the last time you cried?

Not answering this one, sorry.

Do you have kids?

Not answering this one, sorry.

What sports do/have you played?

I don't, uh. I'm not. I'm not very physically active these days. In high school they rotated us constantly between soccer, softball, lacrosse, basketball, volleyball, badminton, and I think MAYBE football? I was terrible at all of them, y'know, vision/coordination problems and whatnot.

Do you use sarcasm?

Do I? I'm not sure. What do you think?

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Man I dunno, uh, I just think some people are neat.

What's your eye color?

My V-Tuber avatar has orange eyes. I'm not saying more than that. Eat pant.

Scary movies, or happy endings?

Both, neither, and everything in between. Movies are good. Have you seen The Boy and the Heron? You should go see The Boy and the Heron. Also Paprika. Paprika is really good. I wish Satoshi Kon had lived long enough to finish Dreaming Machine. Actually I just wish he hadn't gotten cancer at all. Fuck cancer.

Any talents?

I'm pretty good with OBS, and tech stuff in general. I enjoy streaming, and people seem to think I'm pretty good at it.

Where were you born?

Washington

What are your hobbies?

Video games, programming, VR/AR, motion capture/streaming/video editing stuff, just, techy stuff in general.

Do you have any pets?

Not at the moment, but I kept a few fish as pets as a kid, and the last place I lived had a local colony of stray cats that me and my dad would feed and look after.

How tall are you?

5'2" in real life, my V-Tuber avatar is supposed to be either 4'11" or 4'9", I'm not 100% decided yet.

Favorite subject in school?

Probably the classes where we just got to fuck around with computers. But if I had to give an actual answer, probably math or physics? If we include university, probably the classes I took on VR, UI design, and product design, or the cognitive science class I took that was about the intersection between cognitive science, society, and popular technology.

Dream job?

Honestly, anything where I'd get to apply my interests in both technology and internet media. Whether that's working on software for streaming, working as an editor or a writer at a tech YouTube channel, working at a video or livestreaming platform like Twitch or YouTube... Alternatively, maybe working on VR software or hardware? Just as long as I'm making a good income, working on something I'm passionate about, and with time to spend on my hobbies.

Tagging @minty-cups @lunacapra @pbyukionna @quinnydoll @largedragonmilf @super-tired-robot @mudmouths @missylanieous @capncococharms @ardnin @dooper64 @astrophelcallisto @emery-matsushita-vt @mammeata @friendbreakfast

#tag game #questions #rambling

[cosmicwitchgod]

Are we not allowed to just own things anymore?

Rant incoming: I wanted to fucking BUY the new Fall Out Boy album as a download. Did so when Mania came out and everything was fine. Now it's not.

When I use the Amazon shopping app it tells me my device isn't compatible to buy and listen. Weird. Worked so everytime I bought an mp3 download before but whatevs. Download the stupid Amazon music app and get it there. But I can't. I can stream it if I sign up for Amazons stupid streaming service for 3 months. Okay. Fuck you Amazon, but what did I expect. Then I'll download it via Google play. Nope. Can't do that either. Google play/music is no more and they want you to use YouTube. Fuckers. Well maybe on the official FOB Website-

NOPE! Only physical release!

All I want is to buy the album as an mp3 and listen to it offline without ads and without having to subscribe to something! Why can I not do that?! Oh I know why! Because subscriptions make a lot more money in the long run! But God forbid I don't want a gazillion different subscriptions!

I know that media companies don't want us to own anything, but having it shoved into my face so blatantly is just-

If anyone tells me to just stream it, no! Paid streaming services fuck over artists as well as the consumer!

Guess I'll go back to buying CDs and ripping the music onto my PC to put it on my phone like it's fucking 2010.

"You can get everything just with the click of a button!*"

*Terms and conditions apply, LIKE FUCKING DELETING STUFF OFF OF YOUR DEVICE IF THEY FEEL LIKE IT! OH YOU PAID FOR THAT? NAH, NOT REALLY! YOU PAID FOR A LICENSE / TO STREAM IT SUCKER! NOW THE THING AND YOUR MONEY IS GONE! THANKS A LOT AND DON'T FORGET TO PAY FOR OUR FUCKING SUBSCRIPTION SERVICE THAT IS NEEDLESSLY COMPLICATED TO GET OUT OF! I USED TO HAVE AUDIBLE! BUT I LIKED BUYING AUDIO BOOKS AND LISTENING TO THEM WITHOUT HAVING TO BE TIED TO AUDIBLE! NOT ANYMORE! GET AUDIBLE OR GET FUCKED! AND CANCELING THAT STUPID SERVICE WAS SUCH A CHORE! I KNOW THAT WE LIVE IN A CAPITALIST HELLSCAPE BUT SOMETIMES I DO LIKE TO OWN A FUCKING THING! I WILL NEVER GET RID OF MY DVD AND GAMING COLLECTION BECAUSE THERE'S STUFF IN THERE THAT WOULD SIMPLY BE LOST!

ALL ABOARD THE BLACK PEARL, IT'S TIME TO SAIL THE HIGH SEAS AGAIN YOU FUCKS!

#Rant #Media companies #You don't own anything #Capitalism #Media

[ilici]

the bet.

Summary: The reader decides to come up with a bet. Whoever touches the other first loses, as Karl’s love language is physical touch.

Warnings: NSFW Minors DNI.

Cockwarming, choking, edging, oral fixation.

(Reader is female)

Word Count: 1634

Y/N was laying on Karl’s bed as he was streaming Jackbox with Sapnap, George, Dream, Quackity, Badboyhalo, Punz, and Corpse. Their relationship was known to public eye, but yet somehow their relationship wasn’t public. The hardly interacted on social media, never posted about one another. The only time they would see Y/N is when she would be in the background of his streams, or when she brings him food. His fans were all fond other their relationship, and how well they kept it under wraps for 2 years. Karl wasn’t known until last year when he became part of the Mr. Beast crew, so he started to grow some fame. “If there was one thing you could touch for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Karl read the prompt aloud, and giggled loudly when he saw the answer ‘Wattpad for DNF content’ and the other made Karl’s cheeks heat up ‘My s/o.’ Everyone instantly starting assuming it was Karl as he was the only one out of them who had a significant other. 

As the fans voted, and the others quickly voted, Karl’s won as it was about DNF and he easily quiplashed Bad. “Bad that was so cheesy.” Sapnap said, and Karl laughed agreeing. “Karl!” Bad said offensively, “If you wasn’t going up against me you totally would’ve voted for that.” Bad said, and Karl scoffed speaking up as everyone agreed with Bad, “I am not that touchy, I can go a long time without touching Y/N.” He said confidently which easily caught the attention of Y/N herself. “Is that so Karl?” She asked him, and Karl froze as he forgot that she was in the room with him. “Why don’t we test that? The first person to touch the other, loses.” She said, and everyone chimed in already starting bets that Karl would lose. “You’re on.” He said, his face visibly red, to Y/N and chat. “Once this stream is over, that’s when it starts.” She said kissing his cheek and walked back to the bed getting comfortable on it. “Oh you are so going to lose dude.” Sapnap said, already laughing at the look of regret on the boys face when he tuned into his stream. “Hey. He might win this.” Corpse said, defending his friend.

Karl smiled thankfully, “Thanks Corpse.” He said, and Corpse just chuckled, “You’re welcome Karl Jacobs.” Now was when Punz spoke up, “You guys are definitely going to end up fucking.” He said and Karl’s now normal face went right back to bright red, “Punz! You can’t say that he’s live!” George quickly said, as Bad spoke up with a ‘Language!’ Dream was trying to catch his breath, “I imagine Karl just being so touch deprived he calls one of us for advice.” He said, in between laughs. Quackity’s laugh ripped through Karl’s headset and Karl looked around confused, “What’s so funny?” He asked, which only made Quackity laugh even harder, “Your love language-” He stopped himself from laughing loudly, “Is physical touch.” He finished, and Karl frowned at this, “You guys have no faith in me.” He whined, and Bad spoke up, “I believe you can do it!” He said sweetly, “Only you and Corpse do.” He mumbled sadly, looking at the camera with a frown. Looking over his eyes widened, “Who made that poll?”

Karl was now embarrassed beyond belief, one of his mods made a poll to see who would win the bet. From what he could tell, he definitely wasn’t winning the poll. “You guys suck.” He mumbled, before everyone soon left the discussion and focused on their game of jackbox. After a long 5 hour stream, Karl sighed and wanted nothing to just lay in Y/N’s arms. Sadly, he couldn’t and it was already killing him. Y/N on the other hand was perfectly fine, mainly because she was asleep on his bed. Shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair he sighed, “This is going to be harder than I thought.” He whined to himself, going to the living room to occupy himself with a movie. Hours had passed and Y/N and Karl were basically edging one another. Y/N took it upon herself to wear his favorite outfit: oversized red sweater, with matching knee high socks. Of course she had stuff on underneath, or so Karl thought. The moment she walked into the living room, his eyes wandered over to her. He instantly gulped, and shifted around uncomfortably as he wanted to grab her thighs.

“You okay Karl?” She asked, and Karl nodded stuttering out an answer, “Y-yeah!” He said too quickly for his liking. Humming, she sat beside Karl, planning to make this entire thing a living hell for him. Karl could not take it anymore, he ran upstairs and into his bedroom quickly calling his friends on discord. “Guys I can not do this. She is teasing me purposely to make so much harder.” He ranted to them, and they all laughed at how easily he would crack. “I know what you can do.” Quackity spoke up, his voice laced with mischief. “What is it?” Karl asked, and Quackity slowly explained, “Make her come to you, and when she finally falls into your trap, punish her.” He said, and the others silently agreed. “How would I do that?” He asked curiously, and now Punz was the one to speak, “Edge her, shit do anything to have her begging for forgiveness.” He said, and Karl thought about it. “Yeah, alright I will.” He said, and the others gave him wishes of good luck.

It was now nearing midnight, and the two still hadn’t interacted with one another physically. It was slowly driving Y/N mad, she didn’t think Karl would last this long, she herself was starting to become touch deprived. Karl was near breaking, but he had to hold himself back, he had to act like it wasn’t bothering him. Both were now sitting, watching Blades of Glory on Karl’s bed. Y/N was still in her little outfit, and Karl kept his attention on the movie and not her. Whining, Y/N looked over at him and pouted, “Fuck you..” she mumbled, as she made her way over to Karl. Karl bit back a smirk as she was crumbling in front of him, she was going to lose. Finally making it to him, she reached over and grabbed his chin, automatically losing once their skins touched. “You lose.” Karl said, and quickly grabbed her hips pulling her onto his lap. “You’ve been teasing me all day. What a bad girl you are.” He said looking down, and he quickly took notice of her lack of undergarments.

Biting his bottom lip, he unbuckled his belt, quickly pulling his pants and underwear down in a blink of an eye. Turning Y/N around, he hoisted her up, aligning his tip to her entrance before he slowly slid her down onto him. Y/N let out a moan at the feeling, and she attempted to rock her hips, but was stopped from his hands. “No baby. You can’t move, you are not allowed to move until I say so, got it?” He said, and Y/N only whimpered in response. Karl didn’t know where this sudden dominate side came from, but he was not complaining. Feeling how tight she was around him, he, himself, had to hold back from thrusting up into her. “Y/N..” He said warningly, when he saw her trying to subtly move her hips. Y/N whined, and bit her bottom lip, “Please Karl..” She whined out, and Karl groaned before he snapped his hips up. A moan erupted from Y/N at the new found pleasure, and she quickly started rocking her hips, as his snapped up to her. “You’re so tight baby.” He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, as he snuck a hand around her as his hand slowly wrapped around her neck. Y/N leaned her head back at this and let out a strangled moan when he added pressure, “I’m so- close.” She said in between moans. Karl suddenly stopped his movements once he heard this, earning a choked sob from Y/N.

“Please, Karl. Please let me cum!” She whined, and Karl hummed as he moved the hand that was wrapped around her neck up to her mouth. Inserting his index and ring finger into her mouth, she quickly sucked on them enjoying it. His other hand snaked around her waist and started toying with her clit. Muffling the moan with his fingers, he started thrusting up into her again. Moving his fingers back more, now causing her to choke, he rubbed her sensitive clit faster as he thighs began to shake. Knowing she was getting close, he stopped once more, and she let out a pitiful choked whine. He pulled his fingers out, and she coughed a bit tears falling down her face. “I’m sorry! Please let me cum Karl!” She begged, and Karl smirked against her neck and put his fingers back into her mouth rubbing at her clit furiously. Snapping his hips up into her at a fast pace, she felt an overwhelming wave of pleasure hit her. Moaning into his fingers, she shook letting her body fall back onto him for support. His thrusts never stopped, helping her ride through her high before he himself came inside her. Slowly pulling out, he placed her down beside him, letting her lay down. Getting up and walking to the bathroom he came back with a wet washrag and cleaned her up, along with himself. She finally came back from her high, and she heard Karl’s voice. “I won guys, just thought I’d let you know.”

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #karl jacobs #karl #karl jacobs smut #dreamsmp

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

[daddyissuesyo]

Monsta X Yandere Headcanons

tw: implied sexual content, non-sexual consent violation, murder, suicide, emotional and physical abuse, harm/endangerment, severed ties with family, vulgarity

seriously guys this is intense

Shownu: The Protector

- you pique his attention and he asks you out, seemingly normal

- becomes obsessed after the first date and captures you on the second

- avoids physical harm unless absolutely "necessary" to keep you in line. manipulates you until feeling as though you failed him.

- reckless, unconditional love

- you can't help but reciprocate a little; he's just so caring & attentive

- vanilla sex, because he loves you

- funds EVERYTHING you could possibly want: fluffy comforters and a massive mattress, personal maids, deluxe coffee maker, stuffed animals that he doesn't let you name, etc.

- you thought your dynamic was normal until you caught him dragging the limp body of the postman that accidentally saw you changing into a shed

- from that day forth you feared him, yet didn't stop loving him

- "you are my entire world. my everything. we need each other. forever and then some."

- will not kill you unless he convinces himself others will and death by his hands is the better option

Minhyuk: The Deluded

- i n f a n t i l i z e r

- pities you, oh so much

- thinks you are a helpless baby in dire need of rescuing

- treats you like a porcelain doll & refuses to let you make even the smallest decision for yourself

- convinced you are just as infatuated and dependent on him as he is you

- on good days, he will draw bubble baths, play card games with you, and play G rated movies, pausing every minute to explain what happened

- on bad days, he will yell at you, bind your limbs, and carve his name into your flesh

- simply doesn't understand your disobedience and grief and takes it out on you, hoping to "knock sense into you"

- unlike many yandere archetypes, he enjoys parading you about like an accessory. has friends come over to admire you

- "i know it's too much for you to understand, but you need my care. where is this behavior coming from? don't you love me?"

- you'll kill yourself before he can, driven to the point of insanity

Kihyun: The Jealous

- no pets. no friends. no contact with the outside world aside from media he approves.

- shelters you like mother gothel

- insists you cut off all male contacts, even family (if you are lgbtq, it's best not to reveal this to him because then you won't even be able to speak to female family members)

- doesn't hesitate to murder any man you won't cut off. forces you to watch.

- comforts you afterward in a sick way

- you have to PLEAD to go anywhere

- if he allows it, you must wear a face covering and stay by his side

- tends to be rough in bed; he lets loose all his pent-up frustrations on you

- isn't COMPLETELY out of touch with his humanity; treats you well on birthdays and holidays and even permits a supervised phone call with your mother

- "you overwhelm me. you fill me with so much joy and so much rage. you'll never know the effect you have on me, sweetheart."

- inevitable murder-suicide in the end. i give it no more than 5 years.

Hyungwon: The Sadist

- it's all a game of cat and mouse to him; he kidnapped you while you slept after stalking for quite some time

- keeps you in chains in his basement

- decorates his home with your missing posters like a real sicko

- will torture the living shit out of you with no remorse. inflicting fractures, head trauma, slicing you open, digit dismemberment, drowning, strappado

- gets off on your fear more than your pain

- unlike the others, he recognizes when you're suffering; he just doesn't care

- destroys your self-worth and self-esteem by berating and insulting you. it's your fault you can't tell he means "I love you"

- sex entails bondage, degradation, and cruel laughter. incorporates pet names like: "bunny," "little lamb," "kitty," etc.

- may get bored of you and seek out a new victim, leaving you inexplicably desperate for his attention (which is all part of his game)

- always comes back to you after he's maimed and fucked who knows how many people. and you let him every time, holding out hope that he'll stay

- "you're never going to escape me. i hope you know that."

- would rather almost kill you and keep reviving you. you're in it for the long haul.

Jooheon: The Two-faced

- like shownu, things begin typically

- gradually shows his hand over time, but you're blinded by your feelings for him (he's a very good faux boyfriend)

- waits until your most vulnerable moment to attack

- strict and often overbearing; will beat you black and blue to the point of unconsciousness

- will actually apologize, but he doesn't stop

- tries to keep things around that you enjoy and allow domestic hobbies (congratulates your accomplishments but doesn't want to fuel your ego too much because then you'll leave him)

- struggles with internal conflict over how to treat you. wishes he could be more lenient but can't bring himself to

- allows you to have family and friends over while he's present

- very good at acting normal, it's scary. will flash you a psycho smile after they leave.

- "i'm sorry things have to be this way. if only you could see... i really do love you."

- kills himself in the end due to guilt

Changkyun: The Unhinged

- yes, yandere are psychotic, but changkyun is another level

- if you try to escape or resist him, he just stares at you with round eyes, slowly growing a grin that turns into a crazy laughing fit

- protects you from outside forces, unaware that he's the greatest danger in your life

- only upside is he takes you out on the town

- slaps across the face. sometimes at random, just to let you know he's in control

- you live on eggshells, unsure if he's in a loving or violent mood

- a strange dichotomy of worshipping you and craving your attention, yet feeling like you should be the one begging for him

- fucks hard and often, but can't look at you after

- owns an industrial freezer and locks you in there until you collapse from hypothermia III

- "w-were you trying to escape? FUCK no. what don't you understand, hon? you're my fucking property."

- will stab you repeatedly in the end, smiling with tears streaming down his face

Would anyone be interested in me developing these characters/storylines further?

#monsta x #monsta x yandere #yandere #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x fanfic #monsta x reaction #monsta x scenarios #monsta x smut #yandere au #shownu #hyungwon #minhyuk #kihyun #jooheon #changkyun #smut #monsta x angst #angst

[angsty-omi]

radio stations

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

sequel to drivers license

it’s been years since your last encounter with sakusa.

honestly, you should thank him. why? without him, you wouldn’t have dropped your first single right now. funny enough, it’s called ‘drivers license.’ how fitting. pouring your whole heart out into words allowed forgiveness. not just with sakusa. not just with hana. but to forgive yourself. during the past few years, you slowly pieced yourself back together. it was only later till you realized you weren’t the problem.

thus led to the present, where your song was immediately picked up by the media.

you weren’t the only one feeling depressed.

ever since that day, sakusa was consumed by the guilt that he himself caused. every night, the small sliver of time where it’s just him and his thoughts before bed, he thinks of you. thinks about how your lips tasted. thinks about your smile, which in his eyes did light up the world... and then he remembered what he did to you. god, does he remember the physical sound of your car speeding away. how when hana kissed him abruptly as a “goodbye,” and was supposedly going to beg for your forgiveness afterwards. it never happened. hana simply just moved on to other people. him, however, knew you deserved better.

so why did it hurt so much?

so much so, sakusa swore to never let anyone close again. his emotions were monotonous, and his teammates thought he was a robot. wake up. volleyball. eat. sleep. repeat. that’s what he’s been doing so far, and it seemed to have been working. he doesn’t think about you all the time, he slowly is gaining acquaintances, and honestly he was moving on.

or so he thought.

on the drive home from a late practice, he looked at the clock. it was 12 AM. in order to prevent him from drifting off to sleep, he turned on the radio.

big mistake.

little did he know, it was your debut day. the radio station had offered to stream it because you were a local.

“i got my driver’s license last week, just like we always talked about.”

sakusa’s eyes widened. he knew this voice. the same voice that would bicker with him on whether that turn was legal or not. he put the volume button louder.

“and you’re probably with that blonde girl, the who made me doubt”

“oh how wrong you were” sakusa thought while inadvertently chuckling.

“today i drove through the suburbs crying cause’ you weren’t around”

sakusa clenched his steering wheel. it’s been so long since he continuously thought about you. and now it’s all coming back to him.

“and i know we weren’t perfect but i’ve never felt this way for no one”

sakusa pulled over. “i was her first love?,” he thought. so much confusion hit him all at once. when he really thought about it, he never got closure either. he didn’t truly know how you felt about him. all he had to think about was that kiss.

“and i just can’t imagine how you could be so okay now that i’m gone”

that lyric. that was the one that finally broke him.

“i’m not okay y/n, i haven’t been for a long time” he sobbed. he lightly punched the steering wheel. he wondered what would’ve happened if he never hooked up with hana. would this heart-wrenching song not exist? he couldn’t hear anymore. he physically couldn’t. so he slammed it off, almost breaking his speaker switches.

when he finally got home. all he needed was to shower. all his tears were now dirty with regret. his apartment was pretty high in the complex, so it took him even longer to get to the shower. in the mean time, his thumb was hovering over your contact information. debating on whether he should call you or delete your number. he threw his phone down in frustration. as soon as that the elevator doors opened, and he swore he saw a ghost.

it was you. a mature version of you. your hair was cut roughly shoulder-length, your style became girlier, and your whole ambiance was different. in addition, you were leaning on his door.

he fell to his knees.

“sakusa! are you okay?!” you panicked. you saw him from afar, and rushed over to him. he looked well- horrible. his eyes were baggy and swollen and his fists were all bruised from hitting the wheel too much.

no answer from him. he did, however, touch the side of your cheek endearingly.

“it’s really you” he shockingly whispered. you snuggled up against his touch. his hand felt so warm and so... right.

“would it even be okay if you let him in again?” you pondered to yourself.

as you helped him into his extravagant apartment, he showered. a nice long 45-minute shower, enough to pull himself together.

“it was you. you were out there on the couch, and awkwardly fiddling with your fingers nonetheless.” he thought to himself.

as soon as he got dressed, he walked out of his single bedroom. he slowly sat in front of you, trying to read the room. you just nodded and your eyes started boring into each other. neither of you knew where to start, so he took initiative by telling you what happened with him and hana. including the part where she kissed him as a goodbye and promising to apologize to you.

“that bitch never did,” you both spilled with laughter.

once both of you calmed down, he sighs “y/n, i have not been okay ever since that day. i’ve had okay days, but it was never a longing feeling. with you, it felt like my days were carefree and wild. wild in the sense you would mistakenly drive past a red light-”

you scoffed, “i am actually a great driver!”

“no you’re not”

“yeah huh”

“no”

“yes”

“no”

“y-“

“anyways,” he cut you off. “what i am trying to say is that i’ve never met anyone like you, nor do i want to find someone like you. i just want you.” he said with dead-serious eyes.

there was only silence.

until you stood up from him, and his face was pale. he thought you were leaving for the second time. this time he would really accept your choice and it, again, panged his heart.

but you weren’t leaving.

you were walking over to his speaker, connecting it and playing your song. however, you skipped to a specific part in it. the end. the part where he didn’t listen to due to his breakdown. you sat back down i front of him and unpaused at the part.

“cause i still fucking love you babe.”

a/n: so many requests for a part 2!! here it is. you guys can imagine what happened next. they live happily ever after. fun fact i’ve actually never done a fluff ending before.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #haikyuu fluff

[bluesfortheredj]

Forever starts now - BH.

Ben’s eyes are locked on the ceiling above him as his limber fingers fidget with the hem of his vest while he sits nervously on the sofa; one of his legs unable to stop bouncing up and down anxiously. Outside in the street you shrug your coat higher up your neck as the rain begins to seep inside your jacket, and you quickly press the doorbell again to try and hurry the man inside up; it was freezing and your hair was now absolutely drenched with thick strands of it stuck to your cheeks and neck.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter, hopping from one foot to the other.

Finally the door opens to reveal the slightly dishevelled looking guy in one of his workout vests with his blonde locks messily pushed back from his forehead after what you assume was a quick run on his treadmill. His free hand rests on his hip and he gives you a wonky smile as he takes in your appearance.

“You look wet,” he smirks.

“I’m absolutely soaked,” you huff.

“Better come in then.”

He steps to the side to allow you entry and shuts the door as soon as you’re safely out of the way, then you slip your boots off and hang your coat up before he gestures to the lounge where you flop down onto the soft couch with a sigh.

“So what brings you out in the pouring rain?”

“Did you really expect me to stay at home after hearing that voicemail?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah… just tell me one thing; do you mean it?”

His expression turns serious and he takes your icy hands in his before looking directly into your eyes to confirm his sincerity, “of course I mean it. I know what you stand to lose, you know what I’ve sacrificed already as well, and I wouldn’t have done any of this if I wasn’t completely sure about being with you.”

“Well that’s a relief,” you chuckle, “because-”

A bang from upstairs interrupts your sentence and the two of you both look up at the ceiling at exactly the same time, just as there’s a shuffling on the floor. You soon turn your attention back to Ben and snatch your hands away from his before covering your mouth with them at the sight of his suddenly panicked expression. His face reddens as his eyes flick from your gaze to the white expanse above you both, and he shakes his head as he brings his hands up either side of his face in surrender before gently bringing them down to his thighs as if pushing something away.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, “I… I’ve just… you’ve got someone here.”

You slowly rise from the sofa while he mirrors your actions with his arms open and palms flat almost like he was trying to calm a frightened animal, but you soon move past him to the hallway where he attempts to get a grip on one of your arms; failing as you wriggle out of his grasp each time.

“No,” you snap, pointing your finger at him with a shaking hand, “no.”

“(Y/N), please, it’s not what you think, I-”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you even dare.”

Your eyes are narrowed at him as you pull your boots on along with your coat, then you back up to the door and exit just in time to hide your tears from him. The rain disguises the stream of misery that pours over your cheeks as you scuttle down the road as fast as your feet will take you, and yet when you reach the corner of the street you can’t help but look back to see if he was daring to follow you or if the other person had left. Neither sight greeted you, and with one last forceful sniff you turn away and continue your journey back home with a renewed determination as you pull your phone out and delete the voicemail you’d travelled half way across London for; all you could hear in his voice now was empty promises.

This wasn’t what was meant to happen, you’d come to tell him that you were going to break up with your boyfriend so you could be with him, that it was him you were in love with and not James. This didn’t happen in the films you’d seen, they’d lied to you, this was meant to be the most romantic part of the film where the two main characters kiss while getting soaked by the rain, neither of them giving a damn about the weather as they finally get together after a couple of hours of back and forth about whether it would happen or not. Reality sucked.

“Where have you been?!” James asks with genuine concern as you finally get home.

“Out,” you shrug, peeling your sodden clothes from your body as you avoid all eye contact with him.

“You’re wringing wet,” he sighs, attempting to help, “you need to get warmed up else you’ll catch a chill.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I’ll run you a hot bath.”

“James, would you just please leave it?!” you snap, “I’m not a fucking child,” urgh, you sound like a complete bitch.

He backs off, finally getting the message that he so frequently ignored, and you hang your coat up before shutting yourself away in the bathroom and letting your body shake with sobs as the sound of the water running from the shower head covers the noise of your heartbreak. You felt awful of course, mere feet away from your boyfriend while you cried over another man; it was a truly horrible act and you were just as upset with yourself as you were with Ben in all honesty. The only redeeming factor that you had was the fact you hadn’t physically cheated, but you are sure that emotionally cheating is equally as bad if not worse being as your love had now completely faded for the man outside the bathroom door with whom you’d spent the best part of three years with and had shared in the highs and lows of your life. It was quite the situation you had gotten yourself in to, and all you could feel for James now was utter contempt; the things that had only slightly bothered you about him before now absolutely unbearable. There’s a knock at the bathroom door just as you take a look at your phone to see ten missed calls from Ben, and you let out a weak questioning ‘yes’.

“It’s Ben,” James states, “he says he can’t get through to you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you lie through the door, “I’m fine.”

There’s a mumbling as James relays the information you’d just given him, then you quickly undress and try to wash the truth of the matter off of yourself.

“I know you, (Y/N),” James says quietly when you reluctantly join him on the sofa in the lounge, “something’s not been right for a long time.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, ready for confession, “you’re right…”

“I don’t know how you found out, but-”

You do a double take at James and his unexpected admission, “wait, what?”

“I… I’m in love with someone else.”

Your chest stills as you hold your breath, wondering whether to come clean about your own feelings for someone else but James continues talking before you get a chance, and you decide to keep everything to yourself, especially after the disaster earlier.

“I’m so sorry but you know things between us haven’t been great for a while and it just sort of happened… I promise I haven’t cheated on you, I-”

“It’s okay,” you smile as you place a hand on his arm to calm him down, “it’s absolutely fine, and I know you’d never cheat, you’re not the type of guy to do that.”

“Are you okay?” James frowns; confused at how calm you’re being.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “I can’t deny that things haven’t been the same between us for months. I’m glad you’ve found someone who deserves you in their life though. Truth is, I don’t. You’re too kind and caring for someone like me; I’ve been horrid to you the last few weeks and I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have been so overbearing and clingy, I know I can be annoying and-”

“James, seriously, just stop. We’ll take the blame 50/50 yeah? You don’t need to try and persuade me that it’s you’re fault because it’s not; we’re equally to blame and that’s that.”

“Fine,” he chuckles, “we’ll share it. I am sorry though, I didn’t mean to fall for someone else.”

“Don’t be sorry that you’ve found happiness! These things just happen sometimes,” you shrug, wishing that your gamble on love had paid off as well as James’, “listen, I’ll pay rent for the rest of the month but I’ll move out by the end of the week okay?”

“So soon?”

“Why delay anything for longer than we have to?” you smile, “a new start is exciting right?”

“Well, yeah, but where will you go?”

“You seriously need to stop worrying about me. I’ll move back to my parents’ house; it’ll be nice to not be directly inside the city, you know I’ve never completely warmed to living in London.”

You’d be away from everything and everyone, and right now that’s what you desperately needed. You wonder whether you’d walked in on Ben and his ex, or whether it was someone else, someone you’d maybe met before or maybe not at all… your thoughts were torturing you now. Did it matter who it was upstairs? Sort of. It mattered to you. You needed to know whether it was just sex or something more. But it wouldn’t matter if you moved away though, and he wouldn’t matter either hopefully. Out of sight, out of mind.

James agrees to your terms and sure enough by the end of the week you’re saying your goodbyes, packing up your car and returning home for the first time in years. It didn’t feel like a step backwards, it felt like a new beginning, and although your parents were hot on questioning you about what had gone on between you and James, you simply explained that the two of you had fallen out of love and you were taking the opportunity to get out of living in London. The commute to work wasn’t so bad, and to be honest you’d spent the length of your journey getting from one side of London to the other before, so considering you were travelling in from the outskirts it wasn’t too much of a difference overall. It can be tough when you see how well James and his new girlfriend are getting along on social media but only because you imagined that you’d be in the same position with the person you were still harbouring feelings for. Out of sight, but not so much out of mind apparently.

“Hello,” you sigh in defeat, finally answering a call from Ben after three weeks of ignoring him.

You were on the train home from work and completely exhausted after a long week, so this was a fragile moment for you anyway and that’s the only reason you didn’t reject the call. Well, that’s what you were telling yourself anyway.

“Finally!” he exhales, “I went to see you and James said you had moved out after you two broke up, then I went to everyone we know and they wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Well I did ask them not to, so it’s good to know they took that seriously.”

“(Y/N), please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Don’t do- are you joking?! Fucking hell Ben, I went to yours that night ready to start a new life with you and you had someone upstairs already! I mean, fuck, you don’t waste time do you?! And now you’re asking me to not cut you off ever again?!”

“I didn’t mean that… don’t hang up, please. I didn’t mean…” he pauses to groan, “can we meet up?”

“I don’t live in London any more and only travel in for work, so I don’t think so.”

“I’ll come to you then. You must be at your parents’ house, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just give me five minutes, please. I’m literally begging you. Five minutes.”

You rest your head against the window of the train as you allow yourself to give him five minutes of your precious time, “fine,” you breathe.

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I will be setting a timer for the five minutes,” you state before hanging up.

You can’t help but laugh at the whole situation as you put your phone away; it was almost as if you were floating in mid-air after going from one stable relationship to the prospect of another one to now absolutely nothing. Maybe you deserved it after the lying and deceit you subject James to, but then again so did he in the end. Maybe it was something you’d done in a past life that now cursed your current one; never to be happy and in love again. In all honesty, you were worried. Worried that you’d see Ben’s face and feel completely powerless as all of your feelings came rushing to the surface again. It was easy to appear defiant and angry when it was through a phone, but seeing him in person, being the presence of the one you truly loved, well, that was a whole different matter and you were terrified of falling into his arms within a matter of seconds.

A coffee shop in town is your chosen point to meet and you get there early to practise your stony, unimpressed expression that you planned on wearing for the entire five minutes, then you put your phone on the table when you see him queueing to get a drink, ready to bring up the timer. It was funny how serious you were about timing him, but you couldn’t let it show that you were amused by the stubbornness you had within you. He sits down with a coffee for him and a tea for you, then you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ready?” you ask, your finger hovering over the start button.

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Ready?”

“I guess.”

You hit the button and the seconds begin to tick as Ben eyes the screen nervously before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“Right… well… it wasn’t what it seemed that night. Sarah was picking up some of her stuff that she’d left and when she knew it was you there she purposely dropped some of her shit on the floor to make you think that she was there for other reasons. She knew it would look bad, especially as I’d literally stopped a workout to let her in and I was sweating like a maniac. She then came downstairs after you’d left and made one last attempt at trying to win me back which then prevented me from following you, and by the time I chucked her out you were completely out of sight and I had no idea what to do because I didn’t want to turn up at your place and cause a rift between you and James. But then you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls so I had to ring James, and then you went and disappeared for three weeks and I’ve been going out of my mind with worry! James told me what went on between the two of you so I was frankly quite confused that you didn’t think to tell me because now there’s nothing standing in the way of us being together, and I love you, I just really fucking love you.”

You glance down to your phone, “and you only took three minutes.”

“Rest assured, that’s the only time I’ll be taking three minutes for anything.”

You manage to stifle a laugh at his comment as you bring your tea cup up to your mouth to hide the hint of smile that had crept across your lips unintentionally, then take a sip of drink.

“So…?” he prompts.

“Were you tempted?” you ask.

“To what?”

“Give in to her advances?”

“No! Never. Not even when she kissed me.”

You bring your cup up to your lips again and raise an eyebrow at him, “she kissed you?”

“I was being polite and went to kiss her cheek but she turned at the last second to try it on with me. Needless to say she was not happy when I pushed her away.”

“Bitchy move.”

“To say the least! I was fuming with her after she pulled that stunt upstairs when you were there.”

“Hmm,” you hum, “did the job, didn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. If you’d given me the chance to explain then and there we could be happily shacked up together by now.”

“I panicked! What else was I meant to think?! We were literally ending parts of our lives to begin another with each other, so second guessing yourself for an easier life wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing for me to think would it?”

“Okay, I get it. What now though?” he asks as he finally takes a sip of his drink.

He runs a hand through his short blonde locks nervously once his drink is safely back on the table, then he looks up at you with that innocent smile of his while his eyes plead to your better nature. Neither of you had gone into this without fully understanding what it could do to your lives, and you were both ready to end relationships to be with one another, him already having done so, so surely this should have been an easy answer.

“Well that depends… have you changed your mind since-”

“No! I want you,” he frowns earnestly as his arms slides across the table at speed so he can take your hand between his warm digits, “I’ve waited so long for this… we’ve waited so long for this. I want my life with you to start now; not a second later than it has to.”

You nod your head at his words and bring your free hand to rest on one of his wrists before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I was really hoping you’d say that,” you sigh in sheer relief.

“So we’re finally doing this?”

You nod in response, the feel of his hand tightening around yours signifying the start of your long awaited relationship, and he scrapes his chair across the floor towards you so he can press the first of many kisses to your face. The two of you may have been sat in the middle of a coffee shop but it was as if you were in your own little world at last, and nothing could burst that bubble.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fluff

[jean-kayak]

This is a weird idea I’ve had but can I request a smut drabble of Hawks crushing on a black!fem!reader who’s a twitch streamer/gamer (that’s a fan of his) and they start meeting up a lot until they start dating? He’s not bothered by the thirst comments she gets despite how open she is about being taken but Hawks is possessive (thanks to bird instincts) and he fucks her after her stream talking about how those horny bastards would never be with her cuz she’s his.

A/N: Anon, I love this idea! It’s not weird at all! Here it is, and I’m sorry it took so long, but I hope you like it!

Pairing: Hawks (Keigo Takami) x black!fem!gamer!reader

Word Count: 1,356

Warnings: possessive Hawks, (smut 18+!!), unprotected sex, fingering, ass slapping (once)

Hawks doesn't really know how he managed to find your channel, let alone learn about Twitch, but once he found you, he couldn't find a good reason to not watch your streams.

He had the app downloaded on his phone so he would get notifications every time you went live. He decided to come up with some random username, opting to not use his real name, though he doubts you'd believe it was the real Hawks.

He was completely hooked, and he didn't even know it until he realized that he would be racing home to make sure he was on time to tune into your streams. He thought at first that maybe he just enjoyed the gaming content that you put out, but he slowly started to realized that he was quickly developing a crush on you.

He noticed that he would be engrossed in your stories about how your day went or stories from your past. He found himself smiling fondly at how happy you would get whenever you won a round of whatever game you were playing. Or how cute he thought you looked when you didn't put much effort into your appearance, especially when you were doing hour-long streams, a bonnet on your head, and a ratty old t-shirt covering your torso.

He really starts tuning in when he finds out that you're a huge fan of his after someone had asked you who you're favorite hero was. He couldn't help when his confidence rose when you excitedly talked about him.

It gave him enough confidence to try and actually contact you, hoping to eventually meet you in person. He messaged you on social media while you were on stream, and you just happen to glance at your phone, and he couldn't erase the smile on his face when he saw your reaction.

You both hit it off instantly, exchanging numbers which led to the both of you finally meeting each other in person, and you definitely look way better in person.

His crush only continued to grow bigger, and he'd never thought he'd actually have the chance to date you, but here you both are going three months strong.

Of course, your relationship was kept secret, for his sake, and mostly for yours mostly, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't get jealous by the thirst comments you constantly receive.

He knows you're beautiful, that's what drew him in besides your personality, but he can't help the feeling stirring at the pit of his stomach when he sees the comments on your social media. Especially on stream.

One day, he tuned in to one of your streams while he was at work, and that day, the comments seemed to be more forward than they usually were. You've mentioned that you were taken, but that only spurred some of them on, and Hawks couldn't ignore the anger rising inside of him.

You weren't wearing anything spectacular, just a simple tank top, but that appeared to be enough for all of the horny people in the chat. He wasn't even paying attention to your stream anymore, he was focused on the comments flooding in.

Some saying how hot you were, others saying that they could treat you way better than your boyfriend could, and for the rest of his shift, Hawks was a little bit tougher than necessary, needing to take out his frustration somehow before he could see you.

You've just finished your stream, massaging your ears once you take your headphones off before you hop into bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone.

You jump out of your skin as you drop your phone when you hear something landing on your balcony. You physically relax as you sigh, putting a hand on your chest as you scoff lightly. "Keigo, oh my God, you scared the life out of me."

You don't even get a chance to move, Keigo already on top of you, his lips covering yours, his body encompassing yours. You easily accept his tongue, your mouth opening easily as you moan into the kiss.

You pull away, realizing that he's shirtless, the only clothes remaining are his pants. You look up at him to ask him what's gotten into him, but when your eyes meet his, the words seem to disappear.

His eyes are filled with lust and primal hunger, and you can't help the shiver that goes down your spine as you feel wetness pool at your core. "You're mine, right, kid?" he asks, not waiting for an answer as he attacks your neck, his hands trailing down to your shorts, ripping them off in a second.

His fingers are stimulating your bundle of nerves as soon as he gets them off, and the last thing you're thinking about it is answering. He bites down on your neck softly as he repeats himself. "Yes! Yes, I'm all yours," you sigh as he puts marks all over your neck that you know you're going to have a hard time covering up.

He's already able to slide in two fingers easily, your back arching off the bed as he curls his fingers, hitting your spot instantly. He works in a third as he thumbs at your clit, your hands gripping his shoulders as he smirks at how easy you become undone under him.

He can't help the sense of pride he feels as he watches you cum on his fingers, his name coming out of your mouth breathless as you gush all over his fingers.

You barely have enough time to come down from your high when you're flipped over on your stomach as he guides onto your knees, arching your back before getting rid of the rest of his clothes.

You try to turn your head, but you're stopped short when you feel him pushing into you, the stretch making your mouth drop open as you moan loudly. He's already pounding into you, your body still sensitive from your first orgasm as you cry out into the room, the noises you're making almost drowning out the sound of the bed frame creaking.

"Who's making you feel this good?" he growls, his grip on your hips tight, and you can already feel the bruises starting to form. You can hardly get out the words, the last thing on your mind is attempting to form a coherent sentence.

A smack vibrates through the room, the pain blooming on your ass making you whine. "Who's making you feel this good?!" he repeats as he picks up his pace, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you grip the sheets underneath you.

"Fuck. You are, Kei," you manage, and you can hear his wings puff up, opening your eyes to see the shadow spread across the headboard.

He reaches around you to rub at your clit harshly, and you jolt, feeling that knot getting tighter. "Shit, who owns this tight cunt? Fuck," he swears, and you don't answer fast enough, and you let out a small scream when he pinches your clit. "Answer me," he demands.

"You do Kei. It's all yours," you sigh, and he doesn't even try to fight the satisfied smile that finds its way onto his face.

"Say my name, baby bird. Scream it." The only thing coming out of your mouth is chants of his name as you drool onto the pillow, and he fucks you faster as he thinks about all of those comments that he read, and how none of them could make you like this.

"Kei!" you shout, the knot snapping as you cum hard, your body going taut then limp, the only thing holding you up now is the rough fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he grits as he fucks you through your high, chasing his. He cums with a low growl before folding over you. You wince at the overstimulation when he pulls out, and you flop over on your side, your breathing ragged from exertion.

"You read the comments again, didn't you?" you ask with an airy chuckle as he looks at the bedsheets.

"...No."

#hawks smut #keigo takami smut #hawks x black!reader #keigo takami x black!reader #takami keigo smut #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #bhna smut #mha smut #bhna hawks #mha hawks #🛶.hoarny

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|six.

chapter six: yellow iris

↳ flower meaning: passion

chapter summary: hand holding and borrowed clothes.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, fluffy?... Smut??? (IS THERE SMUT? oh my god, I don’t know but if there was it would be under the * if you didn’t want to read it) 

word count: 8.8k 

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles   five: in which James has something to say

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Tags aren’t working so yeah. Anyway. I don’t know what this chapter is, enjoy. Leave comments, tell me what you think. Tell me if you catch details.. yeah. Send songs, ideas, yes. Be kind. 

Y/N had let the question sit in the air long enough to make it awkward. ‘Do you want to stay the night?’

The question held a lot of meaning. It was her asking him to choose her. As if in her mind staying with her meant he chose her over Cherry. Of course that probably made no sense by it’s own but in y/n’s mind it probably did. 

Her heart was beating fast, it was incomprehensible. Where had that question come from? Was it really the confirmations she needed from him? Because there was something in the back of her mind trying to scream that Tom really had moved on. That same voice was asking her to move on, too. One can never really let one's first love, but maybe it was her turn to do it. 

Because how many nights had y/n not waited in that sofa near the door, hoping he’d come knocking with her more yellow flowers. Stupid of her to think that. 

Because this time Tom wasn’t the one that should apologize. She’d never really truly said everything she wanted to tell him. 

 He didn’t answer. He had only squeezed the car wheel and stared at her. 

Her heart had made the question, that was for sure. Had she been sane she wouldn’t have asked anything at all. She wouldn’t have dared to speak to him. Feelings and reason trying to find separate roads but sadly colliding into each other. That’s how it worked.

But there it was the question that had proved to him that it had lingered, that there was an open spot for him. That he had never left her heart, that she regretted ever leaving his side, and that she was asking him to stay. 

Funny, she was the one asking him to stay when she had been the one to leave. But though y/n had left physically, Tom had been the first one to walk out. 

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid, no, what am I doing?” y/n shook her head. 

“I--” Tom coughed, nervously. “I—don’t think… Uh.” 

Y/N felt rejected, stupid. An idiot. She was an idiot. 

“Forget it, nothing.” Y/N opened the car door, Tom only tried to stop her by taking her hand. 

“No, no don’t get me wrong I’m—” 

“No.” Y/N gulped. “I’m an idiot.” 

“No, no, no, no,” Tom took her hand in his. “You’re not. I’m—I want to say yes.” 

His hands were sweating, and he was shaking. Y/N only looked down at his hands. 

“But..I don’t know if that would—I mean y/n sleeping together-” 

“You really think I’m going to go from holding your hand to having sex with you?” She sassed, and then rolled her eyes. 

Tom was the one who was embarrassed now. “I mean last time we flirted for five minutes we ended up with a relationship,” he snapped. 

She blushed, as she coughed. “That—that’s not how it happened.” 

“It kind of did,” he smirked. He paused as he looked down at her hand. He didn’t want to leave either, but he knew that staying would compromise them in a way they were not ready for yet. He knew them both. 

“Would that be too bad to wish for, though?” She wondered. 

He stared at her. “No, not at all.”

“No, but I don’t want you to stay for that,” she admitted, embarrassed. She didn’t, for that matter. 

He hadn’t let go of her hand, “What do you want me to stay for then?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I guess I just don’t want you to leave.” 

That was it. There was no further invitation to stay up all night in between the sheets, but she wanted to have him around. In a sense that she wanted him to be close. 

Tom gulped. “I don’t want to leave, either.” 

Y/N could notice that, he wasn’t letting go of her hand. He really didn’t want to leave because he knew that if he did, their hand holding no matter how childish would be thrown out the window and the next morning he’d have to pretend they were strangers. 

“But you don’t want to stay,” y/n pointed out. And she didn’t want him to, honestly. She was in misery, and confusion. But she did. What the hell was going through her mind? His eyes gazing upon hers, his hands holding hers. 

“Do you really want me to stay?” He asked. 

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” 

“Then—“

“No, I do. I do know, and I do want you to stay,” she admitted. “If I spend more time with you it’ll give me time to figure out what the hell is going on with my heart.”

“Wouldn’t it complicate things?” He said. 

“Having sex would,” she pointed out. 

He chuckled. “So sex was still on the table?” 

“Not on the table, on my bed,” she joked. “No, I—I meant—“

He laughed as he blushed. “What did you mean?” 

“I’m not having sex with you,” she stated.

Tom grimaced. “I—“

“I meant,” she sighed. “If you stayed and if it happened—which it won’t, it would be complicated, but it wouldn’t if you don’t. And if you… didn’t stay it would complicate things because now it’s in the—“

“You’re making no sense,” Tom pointed out. 

“Having sex would complicate things,” she said. “But I’m not asking you to… I’m asking you to stay.” She sighed. “I’m—I just don’t want you to leave.” 

He let go off her hand. “Wouldn’t your roommates mind?” 

And maybe that’s when y/n’s question was answered. This wasn’t about him not wanting to stay, it was about Tom not wanting to deal with Tim. Did Tom know about it? Had Harry told him? 

Probably not. Tom would’ve lost it. 

“One is partying with your brother and the other one is in San Francisco,” she answered. 

“Hm.”

It almost never rains in Los Angeles. When it does, it’s scarce. Yet, the universe was playing on them, laughing right in their faces. Y/N thought she had imagined it, but Tom had looked out too.  It was raining in L.A.

“Is it fucking raining?” Tom said, half amused. 

She gulped. “Yeah,” she chuckled. It was ironic, funny. 

“We weren’t even being that dramatic but the rain said why the fuck not, huh?” He laughed. 

She chuckled. “You were being dramatic.” 

“But I always am,” he sighed. “And you…” He sighed. “You started it.”

“That was stupid,” she said. 

“Yeah.” 

 “I will see you tomorrow.” She finally walked out of the car and headed to her apartment, running under the rain. 

Tom, frustrated, ran a hand through his head. He gave himself a minute to think about it before running after her. He caught her mid the stairs, taking her hand again to stop her, under the rain he was unsure of the words he could say. 

 “Y/N,” that’s the only thing that could come out. 

“ I thought we had agreed it was stupid,” she snapped. Thankful the rain had covered the teardrops that had started to come out. Because she was angry. And sad, but her stupid heart wanted to kiss him. Her stupid heart was louder. 

“No. But y/n we both know that it will end up happening if I walk through that door,” he said. The raindrops falling down his face. 

She looked up at him. “You didn’t even hear what I wanted to offer.” 

He approached her. He didn’t understand why he was so flustered and confused. 

It was stupid, He only placed took her hands in his, she had softened at his touch. 

“Y/N, but-” 

She looked down at his hands again. “Maybe I’m just asking you to stay to hold hands all night.” 

“I think we need to talk,” he declared again. 

She nodded. “I know.”

“I really don’t want to fuck it up with you this time,” he admitted. “And look, maybe… you said it. We—We can’t really forget the past—but.”

“Forgetting the past is a terrible idea,” she interrupted. 

“But I also—just want to say fuck everything and kiss you,” he admitted a she cupped her face. 

He was hesitating. Y/N was, too. It was a very complicated feeling. To be angry at the love of her life but knowing that she’d probably run out of chances to love him if he didn’t stay.  Standing there, shaking, with his hands on her cheeks, cold rain falling both their cheeks.. Why did this have to be so dramatic? 

Though it really wasn’t, it was barely raining, just a few drops. 

She laughed. Because it was so stupid. And ironic. And there’s a fine line, very thin line... Between doing something that you might regret in the morning and not doing it and regretting it all your life. Whatever she did, though, she would end up regretting. Whether he stayed or not. 

Until you get to the top you’ll know if it was worth it. Until you live it you’ll know if it was actually love, or if you wasted your time. She didn’t have any more time to waste. She knew he probably… 

But what if he had feelings for Cherry? What if he was dating her cousin? And that’s why he couldn’t stay. Or… Her thoughts were trying to make sense. Maybe they were gripping to something they could’ve had.

“Well, why don’t you?” She asked him. 

“What?” 

“Why don’t you kiss me?” 

Because the rain was no coincidence. And he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t laugh. She kissed him. 

She finally kissed him under the rain. Under the stupid cold rain, that was usually scarce. And it was bitter, but calm, contrasting warm lips to the cold rain that was streaming down their cheekbones. He was a song, a movie, a book. The story y/n wanted to keep forever, because she was an idiot. 

He still owned every single thought she could ever have. The kiss wasn’t deep and dramatic, not movie scene like, not like y/n had probably imagined it. It was sweet, tender, and she didn’t let him pull away. If anyone saw them, they’d probably think they looked pathetic. Only one kiss and she was fooled again. Why did love have to be so cruel? Why did it have to hurt? 

But it didn’t, not at that moment. Small kisses, both of them reading their very next movement. She’d forgotten how it felt, those butterflies each time he ever was around. So very esplendid. 

You’d think she wouldn’t feel that way, how many times had they not kissed before. Yet it felt like a new one. But she felt lonely, each time her lips touched his. Not because he made her feel lonely, but because she hadn’t really truly realized how much she had missed his touch. She was helpless. Because suddenly she realized all the tears that she hadn’t wept had been dying to come out. How restless she had been, and terrified that she would never ever kiss him again. And she knew she was angry. Tired of being in the dark. Always waiting for him. Because her whole life had changed completely in  just a few months, of course she’d missed him. Because the days with him, although they were counted they’d been so bright. And the sun had barely come out when they were apart. 

And she knew that if he stayed she’d regret it, but if he didn’t, she’d be torn apart. She needed him that night to fall in love once again, all over. She didn’t care. 

She missed him too much to care about anything. But he wanted to leave, he didn’t want to stay, and maybe that’s why she didn’t stop kissing him. She really needed him. 

And he finally pulled away to catch his breath. She didn’t say anything, she only made her way to the apartment, leaving it to him. To stay or not to stay. 

He did follow after her, but he didn’t walk in. 

Why was this so... complicated? 

Because if he stayed, it’d be hard. And if he didn’t, they would lose it all. She only watched him, he was debating it. Probably with that same thought in his head. Because she knew it, they were broken. Different reasons this time, maybe Tom hadn’t completely healed from the heartbreak… Or maybe he had pretended to move on. Or… She didn’t know where he was standing. What the hell was going through his mind? 

“Fuck it,” he decalred walking in, draggin her close to him and kissing her again. This time the kiss was even deeper, now he was the one in control of it, one hand on the back of her neck and the other one on her waist. Her arms quickly wrapped around his neck and pushed the door close. 

It was a bad idea. 

But, honestly, when had they ever made any right decision when it came to each other? 

She pushed him against the door, her hands skimming down his chest. She needed him that night, she knew that. In any way, possible. Not in the sense that she needed pleasure, or to run out of breath, but she needed to feel once again his skin against hers, with that feeling of never wanting to let go off his lips, needing to prove to herself that Tom still loved her. No one would ever make her feel the way he made her feel. 

Though she knew she’d fall apart the moment she realized her mistake, but she pushed away that thought. Her hand went through his slightly wet hair, as he slightly moaned against her lips. His hands were around her waist trying to pull her even closer to his body.

She didn’t know if she should continue, because she knew that there possibly were too many other options of what they could be doing that she wouldn’t regret. She knew that she wanted to make a scene about Cherry, about her, about Tim, or apologize for what she’d done. But then she knew that if she didn’t continue kissing him, she’d probably regret it more. She needed him that night, because she knew she’d end up in a dark place anyway, at least she could feel sparks that night. 

Her hands found the hem of his shirt and quickly ripped it off, throwing it away, her lips trailed their way down his neck, leaving wet spots all over it. She could feel his chest going up and down, as she took his hands in hers and pushed them against the wall. 

“Y/N,” he breathed in as he tried to move. Y/N knew he was way stronger than her, yet he was letting her take the lead. Though she was taking control, her movements were soft. 

 She stopped pushing him against the wall, and dragged him to the couch, pushing him down. He was slightly impressed at first but he pulled her down with him, as she sat on his lap, lips glued to his. His fingertips ran down her sides, and then up under her green dress, his cold fingers blissed through her skin . The curtains, though closed, still let the moonlight peak in through the dark apartment. 

She pulled away from his lips, opening her eyes to see him. He looked right into her , her cheeks flushed, as she leaned to rest her forehead against his, her chest was shrinking. Y/N knew she wsa being pathetic, idiotic, and probably even neurotic, but she couldn’t help the smile that formed in her face as his lips tried to reach out for hers again. She closed her eyes again as she peppered his face with soft small kisses, feeling like an actual dream, not the nightmare they probably were going through. 

He sucked gently right under her chin, as y/n closed her eyes with pleasure, “Tom,” was the only word she wanted to say. 

His name over, and over circling in her mind. She shifted  and then pushed him to gently lay him down, he brushed his knuckles against her jawline before skimming his own lips through the same path. 

“Y/N,” he whispered against her ear as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself, sending vibrations through her whole body. His hands gripping her thighs and going up her ass, as he tried to push her to him. She caged his hips in between her knees, before he sat back up to pull her down to him. Her lips found his collarbone, as she sucked on lightly and her hands traced down his chest down to his abs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

His hands under her dress fiddled with her underwear and then caressed her legs, slowly and gently, as it built their way up to her core, she only fanned her breath against his neck. He only toyed with the hem of her silky panties. 

Instead, he pulled his hands back and looked for the zipper in her dress. 

Her own hands were toying with the muscles connecting his stomach with his legs. It travelled far enough to finally unbutton him, he helped her to strip himself down. 

“I think this isn’t fair, I’m almost naked,” he commented before y/n shut him up with a kiss. But his hands kept working on her zipper and he finally slid it down. 

“It’s completely fair,” she whispered. 

Y/N chuckled as she finally took off her own dress. 

He smirked “I thought we were going to hold hands,” he sassed before pressing firm kisses against the newly exposed skin, from both her breasts up to her neck. 

Her hips bucked against his body, slowly, feeling his hard length growing against her throbbing core as his fingers were struggling in the back to unbuckle her bra. She drifted her hands once again against his chest before landing her lips back on his neck, placing firm kisses against it. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, her very favorite one. He whimpered, making y/n feel the vibrations, his hands traveling down her back.

“This really isn’t holding hands,” he pointed out again.

She pulled away and took both his hands, intertwining their fingers and she pushed him against the backrest. He smirked as he only lifted his head to meet her lips, molded into one, as if every time they kissed they turned into two halves longing for the very next one. 

“Y/N,” he said in between kisses. 

“Tom,” she answered. As his lips traveled down to the middle of her breasts, he stopped holding her hands as he once again tried to get the bra off.  

Before he could unhook it, he pulled away. “Wait,”he said. 

There it was, y/n thought, he’s gonna be reasonable.

 “I—don’t have a condom,” he admitted, a statement which somehow calmed y/n, knowing perfectly that around the time they dated, he’d always have condoms in his wallet. 

She didn’t, either. She knew Emma probably had, though, since Emma had slipped one into her purse the night with Tim. One, that of course, she’d used. 

We don’t want another pregnancy scare,” Tom joked. 

“We—?” She chuckled. “You didn’t have it.”

“I certainly did,” Tom frowned. “When I opened that box, and it was there—I thought—“

“Oh, right, I—“she laughed nervously. “I gave it to you.” 

He gulped. “Yeah, you gave me everything.” 

They stayed quiet, for a bit. His hands on her waist, her fingers running through his hair. . 

“Emma probably has some—“she said. “But—“

He took a deep breath. “Oh—then?” He coughed with a grin. “Why don’t you go and—?”

She didn’t move initially, she only gazed upon his lips and then back to his eyes, he kissed her before she finally walked away. But then she walked into Emma’s room. 

‘If you ever decide to finally have one random hookup I’ll put them here.’ The words echoed through her mind as she opened the small box on top of her nightstand. She saw the flowers that Harry had given her. Y/N felt wrong and she wasn’t sure why. 

She opened the small box anyway, now the excitement gone, completely. 

Y/n fidgeted with the condom and then just watched 

He sighed. Both of them knew the fire was probably put out, now.

She took a deep breath as she sat on the other side of the couch. He cleared his throat. 

They weren’t ready. Because it hurt too much, and though her body probably desired him now, her heart had decided to finally get back into its senses, and it was aching. Now the only thoughts circling her mind was that he’d touched her differently, he had barely wanted to. He had been slow, and not like they were before, always too desperate to touch each other. He hadn’t smiled as they had pulled away from the first kiss like he usually did, and he hadn’t tried to kiss his way down to her stomach. 

He hadn’t… he hadn’t. 

Or had he? And was it all in her mind? Her fear that instead of her name he’d end up saying Cherry’s. 

He didn’t say anything, he rubbed his face. 

She only reached for her dress and lazily covered herself with it, not bothering to put it on, before walking away to her room. 

He picked up his clothes and quickly followed after her. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, staying in the doorway. 

She blinked as she had put on her dress back on, not wanting to turn around and see him. “What for?” 

He sighed heavily. “I—I don’t know.” 

She wanted to ask about Cherry. 

She didn’t, though. 

“We’re not ready.” That’s what she went with as she sat on her bed.

He gulped as he walked a step into her room. “Yeah.” 

Her heart was killing her. “I—I’m… I never got to say how sorry I was,” she started. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she said. 

Tom gulped, watching her.

“I can’t believe I—I hurt you that much and I can’t even think how I managed to make you believe that you were anything but the love of my life,” the words had come out so simply. 

Tom stayed in the doorway, fidgeting with his shirt. She finally looked at him. He was nervous, she could tell. Or not nervous, but that unnamed horrible feeling when you feel anxious that you won’t be able to forgive. That’s the feeling he was showing. 

“I—I’m sorry I wrote it,” she continued, her voice cracked. Why did it hurt so much to say it if she actually wanted to say it? “But if it changes anything, it was never a hoax,” she confessed. “I guess it was an excuse to me, to let myself feel something for you. And I—should’ve said something sooner or… I was just so afraid of losing you, and I ended up losing you anyway. I walked in with the idea that you’d hurt me first that I built up so many weapons and—We shouldn’t have. It was not war, we were in love, no one—Love is not war, but love isn’t supposed to hurt and yet…” she gulped. “I don’t know if we can get out of this one.” 

He sat beside her. “History says we can,” he observed.

“History also tends to repeat itself,” she pointed out.

 He nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded again. “I really—never got to say it,” she continued. “I’m—“

“And I’m sorry, too,” he echoed, before placing a kiss on her temple. 

She scoffed. “We’re a mess.”

He pressed his lips against her cheek, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, she leaned against him. 

“How have you really been?” He asked. 

She shrugged. “It was weird, at first. I’ve been missing everyone,” she admitted. “I missed Harry and Sam, James,” she nodded. “I’ve been missing you like hell which I couldn’t really explain.” 

“Why?”

“We were used to being apart,” she pointed out. “I never really cared before if you went places, and if you did I would be angry, and now… I searched for your face in every corner, in every person.” 

He smiled slightly. “I… tried to find you, too. I missed you too fucking much.” 

Y/N didn’t really want to think more of that thought, but of course she knew he’d searched for her. She was upset again, yet that didn’t impede her lips from finding their way back to his neck, sloppy kissing against his exposed hot skin. He shivered, as he pulled her back to him. 

Just like they were continuing what they’d left before. He laid down pulling her with him, his hands trailing up her legs as she continued to suck gently on his neck, kissing down his chest now. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he muttered as he felt her lips kissing down his abdomen. His chest rising up, his hand was so close to her heat but he snapped it away, to grip her legs and turn them around, him on top of her now as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He kissed her as he tried to push his own body against her. Tongue slipping into her throat as her hands found his hair. 

She rocked herself against him, as he groaned against her lips. 

But she pulled away again. “No, wait, Tom,” she stopped him. “No, no… We can’t do this,” she stopped him. 

“Fuck y/n, you can’t leave me like this,” he complained, burying his face on her neck, y/n wasn’t sure if she felt small pecks on it.  

She bit her lip. “If we do this, it’ll be our doom.” 

“I.. Fuck I know, but you can’t kiss me like that and then--” He couldn’t even finish. He was turning red and flustered as he tried to hide his hard-on with y/n’s pillow  just as he sat up. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, as she reached for his hand.  

He chuckled, “No, no, I get it,” he was embarrassed as he flicked her hand away. “I-” he cleared his throat. “I need to cool down.” 

She blushed. “Yeah, me too.” 

He covered his face. “This is really embarrassing.” 

She gulped. “Do you…” She couldn’t even say it. “Do you want to take a shower?” 

He laughed nervously. “What?” 

“I don’t know,” she grinned. “Take a cold shower, maybe?” 

“Are you serious?” His face couldn’t even possibly get redder, yet he was there. He picked up another pillow and covered his face. 

“I… thought that helped,” she giggled. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes, I’m serious,” she snickered. 

“I-- yeah,” His voice was muffled under the pillow. “I might take your offer.” 

She hated herself because she really had wanted to continue it, and this was the second time. But it was like both of them knew that this mess would be even more of a mess if they went through with it. So they had to keep separate ways, hot and bothered. She knew it, she really wanted to go through with it, but she had to stop herself. 

But she handed him a towel and showed him the way. He was still flushed, and they both avoided their glance when she walked out. 

Y/N was trying to find a way to cool herself down, too. But her skin was still burning, trying to find its way back to him. 

The bathroom was the door in front of her room, she had always hated that, but today she didn’t. She heard the water streaming down. Her chest was still going up and down as she stared at the wooden door, at her pillow, at his shirt on the floor. 

Her mind was replaying the way he had said her name, over and over again. She wanted to hear him all night. If he said her name like that again she knew she’d give everything he asked for. 

*

He hadn’t closed the door, not correctly, at least, a door that barely ever locked, it had its way, and so the door cracked open revealing him, under the steam and hot water. Not cold as she had aviced him, too. She was nervous, never done something like that before, she felt weird peaking in, but her titled head had tried to get a sneak. It was past midnight now, probably, and she didn’t want to waste any more time, and she knew she was risking being rejected, again, but a thought came to her head.  The light from her bathroom barely showed anything, a fact that she’d always hated. The flickering lightbulb was never good enough for her to get ready in the morning, and that small stupid mirror, she hated it, now tarnished from the hot water. But the flickering light bulb that brightened Tom’s shadow, as the water was falling down seemed to add the perfect touch of sensuality she’d looked up for the whole night. 

She thought she was a fool, and that it probably was incorrect.And it really was to be peaking,, then she heard him: 

“Y/N,” he had moaned her name after two exhales. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, not sure if she’d heard what she’d heard. Was he calling her? She gulped the thought, trying to ignore it. But she could hear her name again. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned. The way her name slipped from his mouth made y/n swoon. 

Now she was sure she’d heard her name, and if her mind was not betraying her she knew exactly what the hell was going on. She knew it, the heavy breaths disclosed him. 

His head thrown back with pleasure. 

Y/N blushed as she cleared her throat. But he moaned slightly louder, making her stomach jolt. He whispered her name and her name only, over and over. 

And that gave y/n a slight feeling of power. That probably was the last string hitting, and so, decisively, she walked into the bathroom, too. Now, making sure it was locked. Tom didn’t hear her, but she saw the shadow of his arm moving. 

She took a deep breath to get more confidence before finally stripping down all of her clothes. Tom was too busy to notice as she stepped into the steamy shower, her toes burning with the water as she stepped right behind him. 

She was nervous but that didn’t stop her. She slowly wrapped her arounds behind him, feeling the well defined muscles on his abdomen, he froze and shrivelled at her slight touch. 

“Fuck--” He cursed. “Y/N, I’m sorry. You weren’t—“

“Sh,” she kissed his back. “Thought you could use some help.” 

Her hands firmly pressed their way down, the hot water in her skin only turning her on even more. He was shaking. 

He was breathing even more heavily than before. “Fuck, y/n.” 

It was her name, not anyone else’s, it was her name. He threw his head back as she continued kissing his back. Hands traveling up and down, teasing him as she pressed her whole body against him. 

“I thought—“he couldn’t even make out his thought. 

“I changed my mind,” she whispered, her hand now traveling down his length, the other digging her nails into his chest. 

He panted heavy breathes. 

“I haven’t even touched you, darling,” she teased. 

He whimpered, his legs kept shaking as her delicate fingers wrapped around his cock. 

“Y/N—“he moaned brokenly, as his hands tried to reach behind him to touch her.

She was breathing against his back, as she let his length go. 

“Fuck it y/n,” he was exasperated. 

She chuckled, and then finally wrapped her hand around his shaft, beginning to pump him up and down. 

“Fuck,” was all he could say.

 “Say my name,” she ordered. 

“Y/N,” he complied, as she kept pumping him. 

His own hands tried to reach out to her but his hands found his own hair instead, his knuckles getting white from the pleasure, as he said her name over and over. 

She gained confidence and quickened her pace, stroking him flawlessly as his groans became louder. He growled. 

“Fuck, no, Y/N, I’m close—Stop“he said, and stopped her hand, she slowly withdrew it.  “I need to be in you, fuck this,” he barked before turning around and smashing his lips against hers and pushing her against the wall. He quickly grabbed her leg and pulled it up, as he kissed his way down the valley of her breasts, his hands were dying to touch her as they explored every spot that he could reach, kissing her fervently. 

The water was still running down both their skin now mixed with sweat, as his slick fingers travelled down to her core, as if to return the favor, y/n had to bite her lip as a wave of arousal hit her. His thumb pressing hard against her clit as he slid one finger in, making her whimper and moan his name out loud. 

“Tom,” she breathed out, as his thumb rubbed circles sending a heat of pleasure, her fingers digging down to his back, crescent moons forming in his skin.

 “Fuck, get inside me, Tom.” 

He didn’t, he only brushed his length against her pulsing core. 

“Hold my hands,” he ordered as he ripped her hands from his back and pushed them both against the wall, she locked her fingers with his, as she stared right into her eyes.

He finally pushed right into her, getting a coarse and raspy moan from her. He adjusted himself as she clenched against him. She pressed against his hips, he bit her bottom lip before pushing himself against her, roughly, the water letting him slide just smoothly. 

But then he quickened to move with such speed that y/n thought she was losing her sight, clapping noises as he pulled in and out. She rolled her eyes and let out a soft moan with ecstasy. Both of them overwhelmed, as they keep crashing against each other. Y/N rocking her hips as she could while Tom thrusted into her, harder and deeper each time. 

He kept moaning her name in between short breaths, and their hands kept held. Her legs were quivering but she managed to kept her other leg wrapped around his back, each and every movement getting sloppier as he thrusted into her. 

The water was still burning against their skin, but it was getting colder,  they didn’t notice since their skin was now covered with sweat that only helped you both move more. 

He stopped moving, staying inside of her, deeply inside as he pushed his head back with pleasure. “Fuck, y/n, you’re so tight,” he said, as he was catching his breath, but then he continued to ram into her. Over and over, his movements brushing against her clit, already aroused as she was sure she was seeing stars. 

He continued, as she was squeezing his hands so tight. Her back sliding up and down to the wall. His lips found trying to find her breasts, and her neck and collarbones, sucking and biting and licking. He managed to kiss some spots every now and then in between whimpers and short breaths, and slow whispers of her name. 

“Tommy,” she whimpered, as she felt her orgasm  beginning to wash her up. Ecstasy and pleasure filling her arousal, as the friction from each and every momevent rubbed against her pulsing core.  Tom groaned when he heard her scream his name, his own  movements were getting sloppier, he groaned as he reached his own climax, he tried to pull out but she didn’t let him. She growled as her knuckles were turning white from holding his hands as he filled her up. Trying to get some composure as he breathed against her, resting his forehead against her, both of them panting trying to catch their breath. 

“You cooled down now?” She asked between respires. 

He chuckled as he let her hands go to lift her chin so he could kiss her, sweetly this time. 

*

They were laying down on y/n’s bed, drops still falling down their bodies, y/n laying down on top of him. Her head under his neck as his finger traced down her exposed spine. Her own fingers walking up his chest. 

“So that was a new way of holding hands,” he pointed out, she chuckled against his neck before pecking it. 

She reached out for his hand again, as she played with his fingers. 

“Do you think we fucked up?” Y/N asked

“No,” he answered as he pulled her closer, placing a kiss on top of her head. 

“Emma‘s gonna kill me,” she said. 

“Harry, Sam, Haz and Tuwaine will kill me,” he laughed. “But I won’t tell them.” 

She gulped. “We’re keeping it a secret again?”

He cleared his throat and licked his lips. “No—no, no, we are not making the same mistakes—But,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not one to kiss and tell, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, right—plus, this doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said. 

He frowned. “Uh—“

“No, wait not—“she coughed. “Not what I meant—I—meant that we don’t have to—rush anything.” 

He gulped, “it’s complicated.” 

“But it would’ve been, anyway,” she commented. 

He nodded. “See? That’s why I suggested going over the timeline.” 

Y/N smiled. “So we don’t go over the same mistakes?” 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “So I don’t end up breaking your heart again for what, the hundredth time?” 

“Try thousandth,” she joked. But she wasn’t really joking, she only thought about the last time, just a few moments before. 

He gulped, hands still fidgeting. “You actually—you broke my heart several times too,” he whispered. 

“Really?” She looked up to him. 

“Yes,”he chuckled. “Like that time you said I was the ugliest guy at school.” 

She sat up just slightly just to shift to rest her chin on his chest so they’d be facing each other. “When did I say that?”

“With your friends, with Fabiola,” he said, pushing her head back from her face. “you were playing snog marry kill and you said you’d kill me because I was the ugliest guy at school.” 

She snickered. “I had to keep our enemies reputation.” 

“And I wasn’t even an option,” he added. 

She laughed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry! I don’t remember saying that but you know I didn’t mean it,” she explained. “I had a crush on you,” she said before kissing him. 

The lights were dimmed, the sheets covering them both. Though y/n was still trying to figure out her thoughts. Was she angry now? 

She couldn’t be, not after their shower. Maybe she was just blinded, but that’s the thing about a love affair with the love of your life, you can’t help it. He took her breath away in every possible way. She’d forgotten about many things. Not all of them, and of course they still had too many things to talk about, and they probably couldn’t wait. But there were no poisonous thoughts in her mind. Yes, it still hurt and she was angry but her heart loved him too much to care… at least for now. Besides, she didn’t know if they were actually going anywhere with this. 

Honestly, she probably wasn’t even thinking with her heart or mind at that moment. His touch had blinded her, feeling brand new, each time he brushed his fingers against her, she felt a bristled spark forming up. 

“It hurt my feelings I didn’t know,” he grinned.

“I’m sorry,” she ran a hand through his hair. “I actually thought you were the cutest one…”

He grinned. “really?”

“Well second cutest one, Nicholas Johnson might have been the cutest one,” she teased. 

He rolled his eyes and faked a laugh. “I knew you had a crush on him.”

“I did,” she admitted. 

“Which brings me to another heartbreak,” he commented. 

She frowned. “What?” 

“When you kissed him,” he pointed out. 

“Which time?” 

He frowned. “Wait, there was more than one?” He faked to be hurt, she laughed.

“Yes,” she scoffed. “And please, I had to see each and every one of your girlfriends, and you barely saw mine.” 

He gulped. “Yeah, okay but, I mean… The first time, yes I remember it was at some random tween party we had, in the treehouse… we were playing spin the bottle,” he recalled. 

“Oh, I remember that,” she nodded. 

“And you were dared to kiss your crush,” He commented. “And from what I had gathered before I thought I was your crush.” 

“Wait I remember that!” She said. 

“You do?” 

“Yes I got angry! Because—wait!” She giggled. “You thought I would’ve kissed you when like two questions before that you said that I was the ugliest in the room.” 

“It was payback,” he said. 

“No it wasn’t, how would it be payback if I hadn’t even kissed Nick,” she pointed out. 

“I… I was trying to...Don’t change the subject, you kissed Nick and I was so angry,” he cleared his throat. 

She sat up, laughing, covering herself with her sheets. Tom chuckled to himself, amused by the fact she was covering just right after they had recklessly fucked in the shower. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” She shook her head amused. “That I would run to you and kiss you after you called me ugly?” 

“I was flirting with you y/n,” He smirked. 

She rolled her eyes. “You were—” 

He pulled her right back to him, missing her touch already. “Look I was dumb but then when they asked if you’d ever been kissed before that you said no!” He called her out. “And as long as I’m concerned you had kissed someone.” 

“We had agreed on not telling anyone,” she claimed. 

He shrugged. “Yes, but you hurt my pride.” 

She nudged him playfully, tired of him. “You’re an idiot.” 

He was going to say something, but he cupped her face to bring her down to kiss her again, his hands travelled down her back again. 

“Tom!” She chirped as he turned her around. 

“And then when you started dating Louis god, I hated him so much,” he rolled his eyes. 

“But you hate every guy I dated,” she pointed out. 

He laughed. “Only because you chose horrible people.” 

She snickered. “Hm.” 

“I hate Tim the most though,” he pointed out. 

Her stomach jolted and she avoided his glance. Tim. Fuck, Tim. Just a few days before she had been in between those very same sheets with him. So different from what had gone around this time. 

“You hated me the most,” she said. “And how did that turn out?” 

“Huh?” 

“I was your biggest enemy, now Tim’s your biggest enemy, why don’t you try it out with him? Maybe you guys end up being the perfect couple,” she sassed with a smirk. 

He scowled, getting off of her, turning around avoiding to face her. “No.” 

“Just saying,” she laughed, as she wrapped her arm around him, kissing his shoulder. 

“Idiot,” he rolled his eyes. 

He coughed. “Anyway, Louis.” 

“He was an idiot,” y/n agreed. 

“Yes, what’s up with you dating idiots?” He turned back to face her. 

“Dunno, really loved the last one though,” she smiled before leaning over to kiss him. 

He hummed against her lips but then pulled away. “But no, look, I hate Tim but the worst guy you ever dated was Louis.” 

“He was not that—bad at the beginning,” she chuckled. “He was in a band and he was hot.” 

“I hated him.” 

She shrugged. “I actually started dating him to make you jealous because that’s when Sandra appeared.” 

He thought about it. “And you told Sandra I used snail slime to comb my hair.” 

She threw her head back laughing. “Yes I did.” 

“Why?” 

“To make you angry, we were sworn enemies back then remember?” She poked his chest. 

“But Louis. Don’t change the subject.” 

“What about him?” 

“He was…” She thought about it. She’d never told anyone what had gone wrong with him. The real reason why they’d broken up and he had shown his true cards and how awful he was of a human being. “He was a bad guy and I was into that, plus I think he was somehow related to someone in the Harry Potter cast and that’s all I needed.” 

“A bad guy,” he frowned.

“Yes, a bad guy,” she bit her lip. “I was into that,” she coughed. “I mean he basically dressed as John Bender from the Breakfast Club and-” 

“Of fucking course,” Tom laughed. “Of course, now it all makes sense.” 

“He was actually the one to introduce me to that world,” she laughed. “Okay, he was hot and I liked the way he dressed and he was manly.” 

Tom scrunched his nose. 

“And it made you jealous so my plan worked,” she pointed up. 

“You never told me why you broke up,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad he did because I could take you to prom but why--” 

She gulped. “He was an idiot.” 

She tried to change the subject, and they went through different aspects of their relationship. Always the same damn story, Tom hurting y/n, Y/N hurting Tom. Both of them being idiots, very big idiots. 

People come into our lives to teach us something, yet they didn’t quite know what they were supposed to learn from each other. Maybe there wasn’t much of a lesson to be learned, but they both knew that somehow it led them both there. It had to, otherwise why else would they be under the sheets as the moon sneaked into her room, with dried flowers hanging in her wall. Why else would they be tangled up with each other if they weren’t meant to be? 

Y/N, no matter how angry she was, knew she had the deepest connection with him. No matter how stupid, she knew it. And though she knew they’d end up tearing each other apart one of those days because y/n wouldn’t resist calling him out for Cherry, that night she didn’t want to go through another fight. Not that night. 

“You didn’t go to the Spiderman premier,” Tom said. 

She bit her lip, avoiding his glance. She’d never told him why. 

“I know I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“That broke my heart so much,” he gulped. 

“But you were dating—” 

“Yes, but it still meant so much to me you know?” He sighed. “And though I hated you or pretended to I wanted to share it with you-” 

“You don’t know how much I regretted not going,” she admitted. 

Tom brushed her hair with his fingers. “Why didn’t you—?” 

“Because I thought that if before I didn’t have any chance with you, I’d have less of a chance then, and because I... I don’t know.” 

“What?” 

“It was weird, it was around a time when I still couldn’t get over that kiss after prom, I was thinking about it, day and night and then you started dating her  and—I just..” 

He stayed quiet. 

“Dunno, I knew the whole world would finally see you and I… don’t know, I was planning to let you go and I was angry and I just couldn’t see you, and I just thought I would drag the happiness away from you? In a way,” she confessed. “Because I had been too blinded, I knew I was in love with you again, and I knew that I would… I would simply ruin the magic for you, and I was confused and  I saw you and you were happy and I thought I’d end up ruining it for you, because I knew that we’d never be happy, not when we were around each other, and I had accepted it back then, for the first time, that I wouldn’t...be with you. I had accepted that it was a fantasy, and that we wouldn’t-” She coughed. “And I remember,” she chuckled dryly. “You know me, I was dramatic and I’d go out for long walks, staring into  the rain, and… I was getting over you,” she nodded. “Or I thought I had gotten over you,” she sighed. “Because then…” 

“Rome,” he let out a long sigh. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ve never really talked about this huh,” he bit his lip. 

She shook her head. “No.” 

“Not even when we were dating huh—” He was out of breath. “No, we were too busy making out, huh.” 

She grinned sadly.. “That was on you.” 

“I’m not saying it wasn’t and I was not complaining,” he smirked, caressing her cheek. 

Y/N hated herself because she had no willpower when it came to him. If she’d told this to the y/n from a few hours before she would’ve probably killed y/n. Because god, she shouldn’t be there with him. Had she forgotten all her days mourning over him? Had she thrown them all away? She was an idiot. 

There was that thought in her mind, it would’ve been better if they’d never ever tried anything together. No first kiss, no first dance, no first flowers. But then if they’d never ever tried anything, she wouldn’t have known that he was the missing part of her. And she knew that fear and hate were strong, so, so, so strong but her beating heart was stronger and louder. 

“How have we been so stupid?” He asked. 

“Hm?” 

“Like no offence but we literally are the most stupid couple ever,” he stated. 

She snickered. “We are.” 

“Like how many times did we not try to screw each other’s life because we were in love?” He wondered. 

“We were young and stupid,” she nodded. 

“But listening to it, the same story, it’s the same thing, over and over, and over,” he shook his head. “I don’t want it to be the same ending.” 

He kissed her, deeply. Threading his light touch around her body, taking it easy this time. Gentle touch, and now slowly, he took his time now to look at her, as if it was the first time he’d seen her. He leaned over and over again to kiss her, lips, heart, and soul. Maybe that’s why y/n was always drawn to him, because he knew how to touch her soul. Anybody could touch her body, but barely anyone knew how to touch her heart, and nobody knew how to touch her soul. So kindly, and softly. Shimmering eyes that made her whole body butterfly. 

And all they wanted to ask each other that night was not to let each other down. Funny thing, neither of them had said what they felt, out of fear, or maybe confusion. But they both knew it, they both felt it. 

They drifted off together, holding each other. Y/N slept for the first time in months, so calmly, listening to the soft heartbeat in her chest. 

Y/N was the first one to wake in the morning after she had heard some noise, she placed a soft kiss on his shoulder before putting on some underwear and his t-shirt. She’d always liked wearing her clothes. 

When she walked out, she saw Emma near the door.  

“Emma!” She gulped. She’d completely forgotten she had a roommate, now y/n was slightly embarrassed, not knowing what her friend had been able to hear from the night before, knowing damn well she hadn’t been quiet. 

“Shh,” she closed her eyes. “Shh--- shh, I have a terrible headache,” she said before leaving her purse on the couch. 

That’s when y/n realized it. “Wait--Did you just arrive?” 

“Yes,” Emma scrunched her face. “Shit,” she opened her eyes and glanced at y/n. “Oh god, what are you wearing?” 

Y/N took a step back and cleared her throat. “I… uh.” 

“Did you sleep with him?” Emma asked. 

“Sorta,” she lied. 

Emma brought her hands to her surprised face. “Oh my God.” 

“But wait, where were you?” Y/N tried to change the subject. 

“Is he still here?” Emma asked as she walked near y/n’s room to get a peak, and there she saw the man laying down on y/n’s room. 

Y/N rushed to close the door. “I know, I know…” Y/N bit her lip. “But… But wait, where were you? Were you partying? Or--” Y/N took a second glance at Emma’s outfit and realized the jacket she was wearing was definitely not hers. 

It was Emma’s turn to blush. “It’s… It’s a funny story.” 

“Emma?” Y/N’s eyes couldn’t believe it. 

“Look, we were both stupid last night, okay?” Emma walked away, making her way to her room.

“Is that--That’s not your jacket,” Y/N pointed out. 

“I know, I slept with Josh,” Emma admitted. 

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

tag list  @spidxrparkxr​ @mukesnugget​ @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover​ @happywolves81​   @sentimentalquackson @applenter​ @silver-winter-wolf​    @dark-infernal-instruments​ @claredolphinbear24​ @bookgirlunicorn​  @tomshufflepuff​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @nevertoofarfromivar​ @saintlavrents​ @herofiennestiffinashardinscott.  @tomzfrog @tomzfrog​ @tohollandback​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​  @everythingbooknerd​  @xapham​ @xapham​ @xapham​ @tomhollandisagod​ @danicarosaline​ @laurfangirl424​ @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter​   @the-lost-fairy-tale​ @lala-florez​ @lala-florez​ @healthyassdonut​    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo​ @socorroann​ @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious​ @southsidespideyy​ @nathaliabakes​ @nathaliabakes​ @marvelstuck​ @embrace-themagic​ @bradfordbantams​ @sanniegirl1214​ @softholand  @softholand​ @fairytaleparker​ @underooling​ @griff1ndor​ @griff1ndor​ @thatweirdomimic​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy​ @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman​ @spider-manholland​ @itstaskeen​ @itstaskeen​ @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes​ @kissingtrutharchives​  @snoopy3000​ @prettymessygurl @spideyparkerstark​ @fanfic-4-you @lexshead​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @mannien​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @melodiclovesong​ @bizzlepotter​ @localfangirlx​  @localfangirlx​ @acceptance07​ @witchythingscore​ @witchythingscore​ @swaggyspiderman​ @localfangirlx​  @queengemsworld @liberty0123​ @stiles-banshees​ @itsjusttor​ @stretchkingblog97 @annathesillyfriend​ @dangerousluv1​ @tomshufflepuff​ @thewayilookatbacon​ @petersdiaries @emjaywrites​ @emjaywrites​ @infamousmany @jungeunave @forevermore-euphoria @ispiderdudei​ @ispiderdudei​ @literalfsngirltrash​ @quacksonhq @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes​ @desir-ae​ @desir-ae​ @unbelievableholland​ @peterporkpie​ @justanotherusername80​ @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @quackeroos​ @spideyyeet​ @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid​ @hollandcreep​ @hollandcreep​ @milly7110​ @milly7110​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @rebekkah4766​ @farfromtommy​  @farfromtommy​ @oh-whatabeautiful-parker​ @coveredinthemessimade​  @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @sweetiesangster​ @thatdamjoke​ @annathesillyfriend​ @l0ove-sick-blues @witchythingscore​ @witchythingscore​ @bookworm06​  @sandtopearl  @lala-florez​ @ohfudgeiamgorgeous​ @chaoticpete​ @shezzalocked​ @ @lowkey-love-loki​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @cosmicholland​ @frenchfrostpudding @badbitchydecisions​ @w4ybefor3nir4na​ @americaswritings​ @ilovepeterparker13​ @lukesbabylon​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @simple-things​ @oh-annaa​ @sip-portteam​  @herondale-snow-carstairs​ @t-holland2080​ @tony-starks-ego​ @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland​ @marvelslut-musicalnerd @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker​ @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash​ @belleknows​ @mysticalinsomniac​ @nycparkers @nycparkers @anythingthaticareabout​ @spn-assemble-seven @tanyalooovesyou​ @somethingchaotic​  @heartofholland​ @peachybloomss​ @youcompletemesk​ @emyla3305 @emyla3305​–butt  @hollandstanevans​ @farfromtommy​ @farfromtommy​ @southbeachfeeling​ @eridanuswave​ @tonguetiedholland​ @wolvesofthewinter​ @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98​ @ifntelyinspirit​ @electraheart-3174​ @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz​ @unabashedlyhardkitty​ @xstarbae​ @xstarbae​ @tiredfeels​ @peterbparkerrwrites​   @averyfosterthoughts​ @darethedragonknights​  @hannahholland1811​ @justanamesstuff​ @emyla3305​ @abbiefangirls247​ @onewithnomightypowers​ @itscaminow @youllbemineandillbeyoursbabelove @hotrubycrab  @spidey-holland-96​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @primadonnasdream​ @slytherinambitious​ @maybecharming​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @viagracex​ @viagracex​ @sspidermanss​ @pcterparxer​ @whatevshollandarchive​​ @aleyabee​ @applenter​ @lovewolfspirit​​ @viagracex​​  @xallyouneedislovexx​​ @panicattheeverywherekid​​  @pcterparxer​​ @getthatfireexitdoor​​ @redhoodparker​ @redhoodparker​​ @cakepopcriss​​ @allthisfortommy​​ @aleyabee​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @let-me-luve-you​​ @xxpeachyxo​​ @m-a-r-i-n-t-p​​ @superstarchick​​ @notjustpenandpaper​​ @morbiddanvers​​ @runaway3​​ @runaway3​​ @peterbxrnes​​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist @lu-morningstar​​ @th0ttie4tommy​​ @riasaurusrex​​ @riasaurusrex​​ @frustratingpaperclip​​ @readheadwriter​​ @geesquariid​​ @noxceleste​​ @a-mnd​   @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @witchything​​ @peterporkpie​​ @bookworm06​​ @panicattheeverywherekid​​ @imthefloor​​ @ohmyquackson​​ @seaveyheartful​​ @wangtan-boys​​ @obiwanownsmyass​​ @sadisticfries​​ @not-some-docile-teenager​​ @galaxystern08​​ @lovemarvelousfics​​ @tomzfrog​​ @calsthomas​​ @thearchersupremacy​​ @nikitajackson @dayazenn​​ @the-fandom-life-forever​ @just-kickin-ass​ 

#perennial #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland series #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland and you #tom holland and reader #tom holland and y/n #tom holland reader insert #tom holland fanfic #tom holland ff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland story #tom holland writing #tom holland writings

[glassbangtan]

stitches {kim namjoon x reader}

 Words: 10.5k

Summary: People always said getting married at a young age was a mistake - could they have been right?

Genre: angst

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - masterlist 

---

You would think that after 4 years of marriage, two people would have more to discuss.

   The silence begs to differ. You haven’t seen Namjoon in weeks, purely for this reason - you don’t want to acknowledge the awkwardness, don’t want to sit at your - his - kitchen table and pretend nothing has ever happened between you.

   But you can’t stay quiet forever. You need to collect your things at some point. You need to be a mature adult at some point. You need to face the facts at some point, no matter how painful they are.

   The one thing keeping you from bursting into tears right here and now is the fact that Namjoon looks like he’s already shed enough tears for the both of you; he sits with his head bowed, staring at his fingers folded upon the table. His eyes are red and puffy, and he’s wearing his plaid pyjamas - enough to show you he hasn’t bothered with putting effort in today, enough to show you that he doesn’t believe he needs to make a lasting impression because this could very well be the last day you ever see him.

   And it hurts. God, it fucking hurts, because it was only a week ago you were truly convinced Kim Namjoon was the one for you. And maybe that belief isn’t completely diminished, despite the divorce papers and the arguments; you look at him now and you don’t think of yourself as stupid or immature just because you got married at such a young age - you look at him now, and there’s a voice in your head telling you that you made the right decision, whether it worked out or not.

    You inhale shakily, resisting the urge to reach out and tangle your fingers in his. “If you find anything of mine later on, you know my new address. Don’t - don’t hesitate to just send it all over. If you - if you don’t want it.”

    He nods. 

   “And if - if you ever need anything from me, you can always call-”

   “I don’t think that’s very smart.”

   You bite your bottom lip; you expected that, of course. Namjoon has never been one for pretending things are okay when they’re not. 

    Despite this, you just need to hear him speak. “Why?”

   He shrugs, messing with his bony fingers. “It’s just - like - this isn’t easy on either of us, is it?”

   “Of course not.” 

   “So we might as well just. . . leave it as it is. I don’t want to get in another argument with you and then that’s all I can think about. I want to remember the good things, and the more we talk, the greater chance we have of tarnishing those good memories for ourselves.”

   Ouch.

   “So you just wanna. . . cut ties? You just want to pretend like we never happened?”

   “That’s not what I said-”

   “But that’s basically what you said.” You stand up; it’s not exactly fury you feel, more a heavy disappointment just below your rib cage. It will turn into a physical ache if you don’t leave now, just as it always does when you and Namjoon have an argument. 

   He rakes his hands through his hair, finally looking up from the table long enough to watch you scramble in your attempts to grab your stuff. “Y/N, that’s not what I-”

   “I get it, Namjoon,” you say. “You wasted your entire life with me. You’ve seen your chance to get away and you’re taking it - who can blame you?”

   Namjoon stands abruptly. “This isn’t a chance to get away. This is me putting both of our best interests at heart-”

   “You don’t have a right to tell me what is for my best interests. Because let me tell you, getting a divorce in front of the entire world most certainly isn’t what I would class as my best interest.”

    Namjoon shakes his head. “You do this all the time. You overthink everything I say and make it seem like I’m out to get you.”

   “No I don’t!” You’re on the cusp of yelling. Your chest is aching. Your hands are trembling, gripping the handle of your bag; a few more paces to the left and you’ll be out of here, away from him, away from this argument - but instead you stay rooted to the floor, ready to start screaming your head off all over again. “My entire life, Namjoon, I have put up with shit from you that nobody else on the planet would have the willpower to put up with!”

   His nostrils flare. “Like what?”

   “Oh, I don’t know, how about constantly being in the press? How about me not being able to step foot outside of my house without people jeering stuff at me? How about me not being able to go online because there’s millions upon millions of people constantly claiming I’m using you for money, or you’re cheating on me, or I’m cheating on you-”

   “I can’t control that.”

   “I know you can’t, but you also can’t sit there and say I make you out to be the bad guy all the time when it’s me who’s put up with all this shit for the past eight years!”

    Namjoon scoffs. He scoffs, and it sounds close enough to a laugh that a fresh wave of anger soars into your system, hitting you with the startling urge to throw something at the wall.

    “Alright then, Y/N, alright,” he says. “If being part of my life bothers you that much, I don’t know why you’re still here. Them divorce papers gave you a Get out of Jail Free card, so why the fuck are you still standing in my kitchen?”

    Never in your life have you heard Namjoon sound so angry. Your stomach stirs, a mix of interest and terror as you snatch your bag from the chair, turn on your heel and flee from his kitchen before any further words can be spoken.

    You’re trembling. Your feet hurt with the speed at which you’re walking, trying desperately to get through your own front door before the tears start streaming, but it’s pointless - so, so pointless considering you were already crying before you’d even escaped the confines of the house you used to call your own. 

    It all escalated so quickly, so pointlessly, but at the end of the day, that’s how it has been for months. It’s the littlest things that set you both off, and by the end of it, those little things added up, were engraved into the divorce papers that neither of you really wanted to sign but did anyway, just to see if it would make a difference.

   It did make a difference, of course. You moved house; you sleep on your own now; the media sees you as nothing more than a gold-digging whore, no matter how many statements Namjoon, BigHit and the boys of BTS put out claiming it was a mutual, respect-filled decision. 

    Yes, things have changed. Supposedly for the better, because at the end of the day, you’re single now, can potentially do whatever you want - but that can only be seen as a good thing when you ask for it, and you never asked for it. You never asked for a life without Namjoon. You never asked for your best friend to hate you.

   ---

   Taehyung is nice for meeting up with you, even though he knows the inevitable backlash that will follow - mainly directed at you.

   The coffee shop holds only a few customers this morning, and none of them stay long enough to pay much attention to you and the worldwide celebrity sitting in the corner. Taehyung with his beanie pulled over his head and his oversized coat, a passing glance is not enough to distinguish him as anyone important.

    He stares at you as soon as you sit down, not saying hello in that cheery way you’ve grown so accustomed to in your seven years of friendship with him. You set your bag on the floor, look at him and meekly say, “How are you?”

   Taehyung raises a brow. “I don’t think I’m the one that should be answering that question.” He leans forward, and it’s then you know this isn’t going to be some innocent little catch-up conversation; Taehyung most likely saw Namjoon last night and now wants all the details you can give. “What happened?”

   “Can I at least order my coffee first?”

   Taehyung slides his own cup towards you, folds his fingers on the table. “He was a wreck when he got to the dorms. Wouldn’t tell any of us what happened. Not even Yoongi.”

   You fight off the wince that wants to fight to the surface; Namjoon hardly ever leaves his band members in the dark about anything. 

    “I don’t - I don’t really know what happened,” you begin, unsure whether it’s a lie or not. “We just started arguing. Namjoon said some things, I said some things-”

   “I know how arguing works.”

   “We just hurt each others feelings, and I ended up storming out.”

   Taehyung sighs. “Again.”

   “It was better than letting things get worse.” A lump forms in your throat at the thought of how things would have progressed if you hadn’t fled the scene. “He didn’t want me there in the first place.”

   Taehyung perks up. “Oh yeah. Why were you at his house anyway?”

   “Getting some bits and pieces I left.”

   Silence. Taehyung continues to stare, like he’s waiting for another bit of a story that ended a while ago; acknowledging the fact that the house you remember picking, the house you lived in for four years, the house that holds so many memories for both you and Taehyung is now no longer a part of your life - it hurts. It makes it real. It makes all of it real.

   You shrug, taking a swig of Taehyung’s coffee. “But yeah. Namjoon and I are probably just better off not communicating at all. That’s us done for good.”

   Taehyung’s shoulders drop as if a boulder has fallen upon them. “You’ve got to be having a laugh.”

   “Nope. Last night showed me exactly what happens when we’re in the same room together, and there’s no point putting either of us through that shit again.”

   Taehyung looks baffled. A cartoon-ish type of baffled, with the knitted brows and the open mouth, leaning forward as if he’s convinced he misheard; you take a sip of your coffee, looking away as nonchalantly as you can muster with the lump in your throat.

   “So how have you and the boys been?”

   Taehyung slaps the table. Heads spin, you jump, salt pots rattle, but he doesn’t care.

   You slosh coffee down your front. “Tae!”

   “Oh, my poor little ears have heard it all!”

   “Keep your voice-”

   “I did not spend eight years listening to you flirt and have sex with Namjoon for you to sit here and tell me you’re not even gonna bother standing in the same room as him!”

   You grab Taehyung’s hand and tug, a desperate attempt to get him to shut the fuck up.

   But he barrels on, face growing redder with each word spoken. “That’s just - that’s just pure waste! Wasteful!” 

   “Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but-”

   “I don’t really think you do, Y/N, or else you’d be apologising to me for getting me so panicked by even suggesting-”

   “Alright, Tae, I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Now can you be quiet, for fuck sake?”

   He inhales deeply, flipping his hand over and tangling his fingers with yours. “That wasn’t very funny.”

   You slump back, glancing around nervously; thankfully, most of the people who once surrounded you have left, either to head off to work or scared off by the lunatic yelling in the corner. The only person still staring is the bartender, an elderly man who can’t stand up straight.

   “You weren’t being serious, were you?”

   You look across the table and shrug.   

    Taehyung sighs. “I understand there’s tension between you both at the moment - coming to terms with a failed relationship and all that - but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to just. . . pretend the other one doesn’t exist. Me and the boys still want to see you - how are we gonna do that if you don’t even want to stand in the same room as Namjoon?”

   You run your hands through your hair, gripping the roots tightly. “It’s not just a failed relationship, Tae - it’s a failed marriage. A marriage of four years, for gods sake. It’s a bit deeper than what you seem to think it is.”

   Taehyung throws his head back and groans. “Fuck that.” He looks back at you. “The only difference is a lousy piece of paper that means fuck all in the grand scheme of things. A bit of legal stuff, sure, but that doesn’t mean anything. The only thing that matters is the fact that you and Namjoon love-”

   “Loved.” You taste the lie even as you say it.  

   Taehyung pauses, purses his lips before barrelling on like you never even interrupted. “-love each other very much. You have done for a very long time. So where’s the logic in pretending none of it ever happened?”

   You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You can’t think of a valid response, because Taehyung has once again offered you a question that does nothing but back you into a corner.

   You shrug, sipping your coffee slowly. 

   Taehyung hums, snatching the cup out of your mouth to take a sip of his own. “That’s what I thought.”

   You sigh. “It’s just awkward, though.”

   “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”

   “That’s not-”

   “Why don’t you come to rehearsals tonight and have a chat with him there?”

   You freeze. “I can’t.”

   “Why not?”

   You rack your brain for an excuse. A quick one. “Bethany and I are going to Spaniel’s tonight.”

   Taehyung raises a brow. “Spaniel’s? That club that nearly got shut down last month because someone got threatened at knife point?”

   You snatch the coffee back. “That’s the one.”

   Taehyung hums, slowly leaning back in his chair, all the while staring at you intently. “Fair enough. Good to see you’re still getting out there.”

   “Mhm!”

   “Well.” His words take on a slower drawl, and you know instantly he can see right through you; he’s Kim Taehyung, for crying out loud. He’s not easily fooled, no matter how much he wants people to think he’s the opposite. “I hope you have a good time. Drink responsibly and all that.”

   “I will.” 

   “Would you and Bethany like a lift? I know Namjoon can’t drive, but-”

   You raise a hand, notice it trembling and immediately lower it beneath the table again. Taehyung’s brows knit together. “No, thank you. We’re getting a taxi, so don’t worry.”

   Taehyung nods. His lack of argument is just further proof that he does not believe a single word you are saying - you decide then and there that you need to get in touch with Bethany as soon as possible to organise a night out. You would not put it past Taehyung to show up at your house just to make sure you weren’t lying.

   You smile and sip your shared drink. “So, how are the boys?”

    --- 

    You only start truly regretting your decision when you’re walking into Spaniel’s.

   The thing is, Taehyung was right; there’s no point locking yourself in your bedroom for the foreseeable future. You’re still young, still have an entire life ahead of you, and wasting that life because of some boy would just be stupid on your part.

   But you’re also not used to this - going to a club without Namjoon, who once offered a certain sense of protection. You’ve never been big on dancing, never been big on drinking. Back in the day, you and Namjoon used to just sit at the bar and talk for hours over steady drinks that left you only the tiniest bit tipsy by the end of the night but sober enough to understand that you’d rather spend any night out with Namjoon and nobody else.

   Now you have Bethany and her motley crew keeping you company, and it really doesn’t feel the same. They started on the pre-drinks before you had even arrived at Bethany’s house, and are down-right hammered by the time they get in the door of the club.

   “This place is shiiiiiit,” Anthony, one of Bethany’s friends, says. “We should have gone to Monroe’s or something.”

   “Monroe’s is even worse on a Wednesday night,” Bethany points out.

   “Most clubs are pretty dead on a Wednesday night,” you mutter.

   You don’t want to be here, but you don’t want to make that obvious, either. Prying Anthony’s arm from your own, you tell them you’re going to get yourself a drink and saunter off in the direction of the bar; you don’t really know what it feels like to be downright hammered, but at this point, if the rumours are true, you’re willing to try it. 

   You order your usual vodka and coke before taking a seat behind a fairly tall man, hoping his towering height will hide you from the group of people you walked in with. 

   The drink burns your throat on the way down, but you’re grateful for it. It’s gone in a matter of minutes, and you’re moving onto your next one.

    It’s so frustrating that you feel this way, like you should be curled up in your house, wallowing in your own self pity. It’s such a shame that the mere thought of someone who once provided such comfort is now nothing more than a nightmare, a teasing thought in the back of your mind because you know for certain you can’t have him back again. You lost him once, and that’s it - your final chance has been taken from you, leaving you bare and drunk and sad, and it’s so frustrating.

    You down another drink.

   “Alright mate, there’s no need to rush.”

   You jump, glancing to the side just as Anthony takes a seat beside you at the bar. His eyes are bloodshot now, black hair dangling in his face soaked in sweat that certainly wasn’t there thirty minutes ago. Leaning forward a little bit, you’re able to latch onto the pungent smell of weed wafting from his clothes. Immediately you crane your neck in an attempt to catch sight of Bethany; you would not put it past her to be high out of her head right now, and you care about her too much to let her wander around the club on her own in such a state.

   Anthony leans to the side, blocking your view. “You feeling alright, love?”

   You pull back, scowling. “I’m fine. Where’s Beth?”

   “She’s with Joshua,” Anthony replies like that answers your question at all. “It’s just you and me now, I think.” 

   You turn back to the bar. “I’m not interested.”

   “Not interested in what?” He slumps forward, knocking his elbow with yours. “You just looked a little lonely and I thought you would appreciate some company.”

      It would be so easy right now to just tell him to leave you alone; you don’t want the company, you don’t appreciate it at all, you want to go home - but the better half of you pushes to the surface before anything else. You give Anthony a small smile.

    “Thanks.”

  He grins right back, settling down on his chair. “So how come you’re here all on your own then?”

  “What do you mean?”

   “Well.” He tilts his head back, stares up at the ceiling with eyes unfocused. “It just seems a little. . . bizarre to me that someone as pretty as you would be sat here on your own. No boyfriend? Girlfriend? Significant other of any kind?”

    “Well, I have-” Your heart lurches into your throat and you catch yourself before the words can get much further forward. Anthony notices the sudden hitch in your speech, raises a brow and leans forward in an attempt to catch your eye, but you’re quick to look away and take yet another sip of your vodka and coke - it won’t be long until you can’t see straight. “Nope. I’m single.”

    Anthony hums. “Weird.”

   “Is it really?”

   “Well, I think it’s weird, but that might just be because you’re the prettiest person I’ve seen tonight.”

    His flirting doesn’t flatter you in any way. You glance at him through the corner of your eye, trying for another friendly little smile, but it fails and you instead take another drink to hide your distaste; comments like that don’t sound right when they’re coming from someone who doesn’t even know you.

    Now, Namjoon on the other hand - he knew you better than anyone. He knew you better than you knew yourself. He would say things like that to you and you’d genuinely believe them, because if there was anyone in the world who knew the truth about you, it was him.

    This guy has been in your presence for a grand total of twenty minutes and he’s only saying all this stuff because he’s drunk and high and horny. 

    “Do you have many hook-up’s, Y/N?” he asks suddenly, taking a sip of his own drink.

    Your head snaps round. “Why would you ask that?”

   “I was just wondering,” he replies, smirking into his glass. “You seem like a good egg. I can’t imagine you falling into anyone’s bed by accident.”

     “By accident?”

   “Unless, of course,” he continues, “you want a little bit of fun tonight.”

    The anger claws its way into your system, but before you can say anything to hurt this guys feelings, another voice echoes out from behind you.

    “Y/N! There you are!”

    You whirl around just as Taehyung wraps a heavy arm round your shoulders, tugging you into his side. You gasp, surprised, but Taehyung barrels on before you can say anything to make Anthony believe you had no idea Taehyung would be here in the first place.

     “Who’s this then?” he asks, motioning to Anthony who sits with knitted brows and pursed lips. 

    “Uhhh…”

  “I’m Anthony.” He reaches forward for a hand shake. Taehyung stares at it a moment before slowly taking the offered hand.

     “You two friends?”

   “He’s friends with Bethany,” you reply quickly, before spinning in your seat and pushing Taehyung back, stumbling up after him. “Do you mind coming with me to the smoking area?”

    Taehyung giggles. “You don’t smoke-”

    “Be right back, Anthony!”

    “Will we?” Taehyung asks once you’ve finally managed to push him through the crowd towards the back doors.

    “Of course not,” you hiss, shoving him into the open air where he finally bursts out laughing. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re meant to be at rehearsals!”

    “The good thing about being your managers best friend is that he lets you reschedule important meetings,” says Taehyung. “The whole group.”

     You glare at him, even though you knew this would be the case from the moment Taehyung’s voice rang out behind you only minutes before; your stomach does a flip, one that you recognise as dread but wish was something else. Excitement, maybe. 

    Taehyung continues to grin, but it’s easy for him. He’s not the one who has to deal with the awkwardness. He’s not the one who’s just had their night completely ruined.

     “You’re an asshole,” you spit.

    He shrugs. “I’m not trying to set you two up - if you’re happier on your own-”

  You glare at him, because he knows full well you’re not.

   “-then I’m gonna respect that. But I couldn’t just go to the club and not bring Namjoon, you know? That wouldn’t be very nice of me.”

    “Oh, God forbid you’re not very nice.”

   He nods solemnly. “I know. I know. Now, can we go back inside? It’s fucking freezing.”

   He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, merely turns on his heel and starts back towards the club. You suck it up - you have to, because at some point, people are going to forget you and Namjoon ever existed and this fear you have developed will be seen as nothing more than stupid and irrational. You might as well start making the progress now.

     The club suddenly seems ten times more crowded than it did when you first walked in; people are dancing, drinking, singing at the top of their lungs, and you can hear every word, feel every limb as you shove your way through the thickening crowd. Taehyung is taller than a lot of the inhabitants, and with his good looks and glowing smile, most people move out of the way when they see him walking towards them; it’s not too difficult to keep up with him.

     But then you see Namjoon, and you don’t really understand why you’re following Tae in the first place.

    “Oh, God,” you whisper. Taehyung glances at you, tries for a comforting smile, but the look on your face must be something else, something not even Taehyung can try and settle. Instead he reaches back, grabs your hand and pulls you forward, more to keep you from sprinting out of the club than to give you any type of comfort.

    Because Namjoon looks so good, as he always does, and you remember nights like this when the other boys would force the two of you from the comfort of Namjoon’s studio, or the comfort of your shared home, and the two of you would just waltz around the dance floor, lost in each other and nobody else. It feels wrong to be in his presence in a situation like this and not have that kind of connection, and when he turns and meets your eyes, it’s obvious from the sudden drop of his smile that he feels the exact same way.

     “There you are!” Jungkook exclaims, bursting out from behind Namjoon and giving Taehyung a hug. “We were wondering where you’d run off to!”

  “I was collecting a friend,” Taehyung replies, dragging you forward. The other boys turn, grinning as soon as they lay eyes on you. You are bombarded with hugs and incoherent yelling, questions you can’t answer because they pile on top of one another with little to no gaps in between. 

     “Hi,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

    The boys continue talking over one another, but you zone out. Namjoon stands a little bit behind everyone else, hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans, his eyes drawn to the floor as he waits for a change of topic - a topic that doesn’t involve you. His black hair hangs over his eyes, and you want nothing more than to reach forward and brush it out of his face, just like you used to do, but you don’t. You instead keep your hands knotted at your sides, smiling and nodding to whatever nonsense the six other boys are spewing at you.

    “Right!” Seokjin suddenly exclaims, clapping his hands. “I’ll grab the first round of drinks. What does everyone want?”

     Orders are tossed left right and centre, and somehow, Seokjin picks up on them all. You offer to go with him to help carry the tray, and it’s only by the grace of god and Seokjin’s obliviousness that he agrees and lets you break away from the other boys. You follow him up to the bar and wait for him to order.

     “I can’t believe you’re here,” he says as the two of you wait. “What a coincidence! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

    “I know,” you reply. “I came here with Bethany.”

   Seokjin nods, even though he has no idea who Bethany is. “It’s good to hear you haven’t been isolating yourself - Namjoon’s been a right pain in the ass to get out of the house recently.”

    You freeze. “Has he?”

   Seokjin hums, messing idly with a paper straw he found discarded on the counter. “He’s been in a right mood. Obviously, like, we can’t blame him - he’s been going through a lot recently.” He flicks a glance at you. “You both have, huh?”

   You shrug. You don’t have to lie if you say nothing at all.

   Seokjin turns back to the bar. “But yeah, he just hasn’t been handling it very well. Hasn’t been handling himself very well.” He shrugs. “I suppose if you’ve been spending your entire life with somebody else, it’s kind of difficult to get back into the swing of doing things on your own, you know?”

    You do know. You know far too well. 

    You nod slowly, biting your lower lip to stop the tears that suddenly want to make an appearance; you’re too drunk for this. You should be at home, not stuck in a club trying to avoid your ex-husband.

    The drinks are passed across the bar once they have all been made. You reach out to grab the tray, but a voice by your ear startles you before you can pick them up.

     “Where did you go off to?”

    Both you and Seokjin whirl around at the same time. Seokjin grins when he sees Anthony standing by your shoulder, though Anthony does not repay him with the same level of courtesy.

    “Who’s this?” Seokjin asks, already reaching out a hand in greeting.

   Anthony scowls at him. “I’m Y/N’s friend. Who are you?”

   “Oh, me too,” Seokjin replies. “Do you want a drink? You can have mine if you like vodka and-”

  “I’m just here to retrieve Y/N.”

    You pause, certain you must have misheard. Even Seokjin, forever the man to stay calm in moments like this, freezes with his hand hovering over the top of his drink. 

    Together, you both say, “Huh?”

    “Well, Y/N came in with us,” Anthony says. “I don’t like the idea of walking around with someone I don’t know - especially when she’s slightly drunk.”

   “I’m not-”

   Anthony grabs your arm. “Let’s go.”

    Seokjin grabs your other arm. “I don’t - uh - I don’t think that’s too good of an idea.”

    “And why is that?” Anthony gives Seokjin a smile, warm and welcoming, but it’s the flash of anger in his bloodshot eyes that convinces you he doesn’t mean any of these niceties he’s trying to present. You quickly snap your arm from his grip, stumbling into Seokjin’s chest.

    Anthony looks at you, tilts his head. “Y/N-”

   “I’m going with Seokjin,” you reply. “Tell Beth I’ll call her when I get home.”

   Anthony opens his mouth to respond, but you don’t stick around to hear what he has to say, certain it will be nothing more than a drug-induced attempt to get you to stay. Instead, you turn on your heel, grab Seokjin’s hand and drag him back through the crowd, Seokjin fumbling with the tray of drinks as he tries to keep up with you.

    “Who was that guy?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder in bewilderment. 

   You tug on his hand, a silent plea to just ignore Anthony, who has now taken to yelling across the dance floor at you. “He’s friends with Bethany - they’re room mates or something. I don’t really know.”

   “He’s frightening,” Seokjin says. “Did he hurt you?”

   “No. He’s just high. You watch, I’ll have an apology text tomorrow morning.”

   Seokjin snickers as the two of you finally arrive at the table one of the other boys managed to dig out. Seokjin sets the tray down and hoists himself onto the bench beside Namjoon, who is purposefully and oh-so-obviously trying to avoid your gaze.

    At this point, you don’t even care; perhaps the alcohol has settled in your system at long last, leaving you slightly tipsy despite still being far too connected to reality. You’re still overly aware of Namjoon’s presence, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s just because he’s Namjoon. Around you, girls and boys continue to glance at him over their shoulders, whisper amongst themselves, pointing in a way that makes you want to wrap your arm around his just to tell them he’s mine.

   But you aren’t his anymore, so you occupy your hands by grabbing a drink from the tray and turning to talk to Yoongi, who is busy tapping away at his cell phone.

    As the night draws on, you become looser, more willing to have a good time than you were before. You and Hoseok have a dance battle that everybody laughs at, claiming you won despite the obvious winner being Hoseok himself. The bartender asks for your number, but Taehyung cuts in and says you don’t have a phone, and the bartender is too intimidated by Taehyung’s grand height to argue; you don’t even care. Taking another sip of your drink, you grin and thank Tae for a reason you are unsure of. 

      And the entire time, Namjoon keeps his distance.

   It’s as the night starts drawing to a close that things start getting blurry; out of the seven boys you’ve been spending time with, three are left in your presence by the time midnight rolls around. Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon gather round the table as you stand beside them, too angsty to sit, too drunk not to make your presence known. You sip your drink as the boys talk, idly swaying your hips back and forth, not really paying attention to what they’re saying…

     “Don’t you think it’s getting a little late?”

   If it was anybody else, you could have convinced yourself not to turn around. But Namjoon’s voice has some kind of appeal to it that has you spinning, nearly sloshing your drink over yourself at the speed of which you do so. You half-expect him to be looking elsewhere, keeping to the pattern of the night of completely ignoring you, but this time, he’s staring right at you, one eyebrow raised.

    You stare right back.”Huh?”

   “Oh, come on, Namjoon,” Yoongi scoffs, not taking his eyes off his phone. “It’s only midnight.”

    “I know, but Y/N doesn’t like staying out late, and-”

   “I love staying out late!” Your voice is shrill, much louder than you originally intended, but you’re too far gone now to change that. “Now that I don’t have anyone to come home to, staying out late is my forte!”

   Taehyung spins, eyes wide, face paling. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

  You keep your eyes on Namjoon, watching his expression shift from genuine concern to anger. His teeth grit, fingers curling into fists upon the table.

    “Oh,” says Namjoon slowly. “Is that right?”

   “Mhm.” You sip your drink, wrap an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders. He looks up, startled, from his iPhone, cheeks growing red as he glances uncertainly from you to Namjoon and back again. “It’s like this sense of freedom, you know? Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I believe it’s called being single? Really great.”

    “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s pretty good,” Namjoon mutters.

   “Okay!” Taehyung exclaims, sharing a concerned look with Yoongi. “I think Y/N’s had a bit too much to-”

   “No, no,” Namjoon cuts in. Taehyung and Yoongi close their eyes in exasperation, but you keep your gaze firm on Namjoon, who keeps his firm on you. “Y/N wants to stay out late, then she should stay out.”

     “And who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky!”

   Namjoon’s scowl deepens. “Maybe.”

    His indifference just makes you angrier; he should be yelling, telling you to stop teasing him, saying he misses you and that this divorce is the worst decision he’s ever made…

   But he isn’t. 

   He’s sat in that stupid chair with his stupid half-drunk drink, and he’s scowling at you but he’s not doing anything to put a stop to whatever you’re saying because at this point, you don’t even know what it is you’re trying to say. 

     “Do you think Anthony needs someone to go home with?” you continue, tightening your hold on Yoongi. 

   “Anthony?” Namjoon suddenly bursts, the first sign of proper anger he’s shown tonight. “The drug addict?”

   “He smokes a little weed every now and then.” You wave a dismissive hand at your ex-husband. “You just never liked him because he’s not willing to settle down with anyone - he’s living his life. He’s doing what people our age should be doing.”

    Namjoon’s guard cracks.

   Taehyung reaches for his arm, but it’s really no use - Namjoon is taller, broader, angrier, and he barrels past the table before you can do so much as blink. His fingers are wrapped around your upper arm in seconds, a feather light touch that does not equal the stormy expression on his face. You squeal dramatically, stumbling into him as he drags you away from the table.

    “What are you gonna do to me?” you demand.

   Namjoon scowls, says something to Taehyung and Yoongi before he’s dragging you out of the club. 

    “Get off me!” you exclaim, though you make no attempt to shake yourself from his grip; even in your overly-intoxicated state, the feel of Namjoon’s fingers on your skin - after so long - is like sipping water after months in the desert.

     The two of you walk outside. Once you pass the exit doors, Namjoon lowers his hands to your waist, spins you around so you’re facing him and says, “What’s the matter with you?”

   You’re taken aback. You stare at him, eyebrow raised.

   He tilts his head. “You’re drunk. You hate getting drunk.”

    “You have no idea what I hate,” you shoot back. “You don’t know anything about me anymore, Namjoon!”

  He rolls his eyes. “Oh, give me a break. We’ve been broken up for two weeks!”

    “And you don’t think I’ve changed in them two weeks?”

  “Well, apparently you’re a lot more fucking stupid-”

    “Oh, go to hell, Namjoon. So what if I had a drink? Not all of us want to be stuck-up little piss-babies like you!”

    He scoffs, closing his eyes. “Is that your idea of an insult now?”

   You wriggle out of his grip, even though it takes every fibre of your being, even though you want nothing more than to stay locked in his embrace forever. “I’ll do what I want, okay? And tonight, I want to go home with Anthony.”

     “You’re gonna regret it in the morning.”

   “I’ll deal with that in the morning.”

   You spin on your heel, starting towards the door back into the club, but you only manage two steps forward before Namjoon has grabbed your wrist and is tugging you back; you’re ready to throw a hissy fit, a genuine, toddler tantrum if he doesn’t let you go, because looking into his eyes right now is hurting you so, so badly, and-

    “Come home with me instead.”

   You stumble, certain you’ve heard him wrong. Even through your drunken haze, you can’t bring yourself to believe he has truly said what he’s just said.

     “What?”

   “Just so I know you’re safe,” he mumbles, as if embarrassed to be admitting such a thing. “I’ll sleep on the sofa, you can take the bed. But I don’t like the idea of you going home on your own when you’re in this state.”

    You stare at him; is he pitying you? Is that what this is? You can’t put your finger on it, but your heart is thumping at a million miles per hour, and your drunken brain is seeing this invitation as nothing more than an opportunity, a chance to spend one last night with him, whether it be completely platonic or not.

    “Okay,” you croak out. “That sounds. . . Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

  Namjoon nods, once and certain, before he turns and starts walking back towards the car park.

   ----

    The house hasn’t changed, and maybe that’s the worst part.

    There’s still evidence of you once living here, and that bothers you. It irks you that Namjoon can sit amongst photographs and things that once belonged to you and not completely break down. Stood on the mantelpiece is a picture you and him took a few years back, still framed in the same old brown frame that you planned on replacing ages ago, but never got round to. One of your hair ties is still on the coffee table. A pair of shoes you grew out of are still tossed in the shoe basket by the front door. 

   He hasn’t touched a thing.

    You swallow the thick lump forming in your throat, stumbling through the door. Namjoon goes to catch you, but you flinch out of his grip before his fingers can make contact, suddenly much too afraid of what is happening; you’re meant to be getting over him, for crying out loud. Yet here you are, walking into this house with this man with not a thought racing through your head.

     “Let me get you a glass of water,” he says, keeping a loose eye on you even as he walks into the kitchen. You sit down on the sofa, cover your face with your hands and inhale deeply; this is going to be a mighty long night if you don’t get your head on straight. 

    Namjoon returns a few minutes later. He places the pint of water on the coffee table before sitting down beside you; his hands hang awkwardly between his knees as he continually shoots glances in your direction. Neither of you know what to do, or what to say. Do you even bring up what happened tonight? Do you apologise? Do you ask him why he even cared so much in the first place?

    You do none of those things, instead choosing to bask in the silence. Your heart is thumping in your chest, the alcohol still pumping through your veins; you know you messed up somehow tonight, but you’re becoming too exhausted to really care about it.

    Namjoon is the first to speak. “How are you feeling?”

   “Good. Tired.”

    “I’ll go set up the bed.” He starts to stand, but you grab his wrist before he can get very far. He pauses midway, glancing back at you. “You alright?”

     “I’ll take the sofa.”

  He raises a brow as if the mere idea of you sleeping on the sofa is ludicrous. “Don’t be an idiot.” He shakes his hand out of your grip. “Stay here and drink your water. I’ll be back in five.”

    “Namjoon, I’m serious.”

   “So am I.” And then he disappears around the corner, leaving you in the living room all on your own.

   You take this moment of alone-time to wander the place that used to be yours. With your pint of water in hand, you slowly walk around the living room, glancing at old pictures and smiling at old memories - all of which he has kept, and not just placed subtly around the room; they’re at the forefront. To the untrained eye, it would look like you never even left in the first place.

    Again, it bothers you that he can sit in here so casually. Back at your place, all pictures of you and Namjoon have been shut tightly in cardboard boxes and shoved into the roof space  - not out of spite, but because seeing them everyday and remembering a time better than your own would be a form of torture. 

   You care too much. Maybe Namjoon doesn’t.

    You trail a hand along the outside of a white picture frame, the inside containing a photo of the two of you backstage at the Grammys. This was the very day Namjoon and the boys won their first Grammy award; in the picture, Namjoon is sweaty with his shirt unbuttoned just a bit, and you look glamorous and happy with your arm around his waist and the biggest smile on your face, tears continuously flowing down your cheeks even as the picture is being taken.

    “I can take them down if you want.”

   You jump, spinning around just as Namjoon steps out from the darkness of the hallway.

    “If you don’t want to look at them, I mean,” he clarifies upon seeing your puzzled expression.

   You wave a dismissive hand. “No, it’s okay.” You turn back to the photo. “Remember this?”

    “How could I forget? It was one of the best nights of my life.”

    “I know. Though I’m surprised you remember it with the amount you and the boys drank at the after party.”

   Namjoon scoffs, coming up behind you to get a better look at the photo. “I didn’t drink that much.”

   “I basically had to carry you home.”

    “You didn’t have to do anything.”

   “So, what? You just expected me to leave you there?”

   Namjoon shrugs, picking the frame up to get a better look at the picture. You watch his eyes soften, grip tightening just that little bit; you know exactly what he is seeing, because it was only seconds before that you were seeing the exact same thing. A happily married couple with not a care in the world, a love so strong and so ever-lasting that - at the time - it seemed impossible to break. You’re all smiles and hands-around-waists and dreamy gazes being sent across the room; it was such a perfect day.

     You wonder how anything could have broken you both after that day.

   Namjoon coughs and hastily sets the picture back down on the mantelpiece. “The beds set up for you.”

   You nod, because you don’t know what else to do; do you thank him? Do you argue with him again? In truth, you don’t even want the bed - the idea of sleeping upon the same mattress you and Namjoon used to sleep on together is just taunting, and you would much rather sleep on the sofa anyway.

   But Namjoon doesn’t seem to be taking that as a suggestion. He wades across the room and throws himself down onto the sofa, placing one hand behind his head and closing his eyes, even as you stand over him, waiting for the conversation to move onto something you both know needs to be discussed.

    Upon hearing no signs of you leaving the room, Namjoon cracks open an eye and looks up at you. “You alright?”

    “You ask that an awful lot.”

   “Yeah, well, it’s polite.”

   You glare. “I’m fine. Just. . . Are you sure you don’t want the bed?”

   He closes his eyes in response.

   You groan loud enough for him to hear. He simply smirks - the bastard - and that is enough to have you cracking. You throw a pillow at him before marching upstairs and into the master bedroom - the master bedroom which still looks the exact same as when you last stood within it. The double bed with the checkered quilt cover, the bedside table with the broken lamp, the window with the curtains that are never closed, but which you now yank closed because the sun will be most excruciating tomorrow.

    You throw yourself down on the bed. The scent of Namjoon explodes within your senses.

   You start crying.

    It might be the alcohol. It might be the memories. It might be the fact that you’re so young and already have one divorce under your belt, a divorce from the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with, a divorce from the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. You’re in his house, and he’s downstairs on the sofa, refusing to let you sleep in such an uncomfortable space; why would you not want to spend the rest of your life with someone like that?

     You pull your shirt off over your head, kick your jeans off and slip under the covers without replacing them with anything; you’re too tired, too emotional to really care about the consequences of such an idea.

    It’s not like Namjoon hasn’t seen everything anyway.

    ----

    You are woken by the sound of rustling in the corner of the room.

   It doesn’t strike you as anything odd for a moment; you’re groggy, comfortable, can already feel the beginnings of a headache fighting to the surface. At this moment in time, you would gladly let a thief rummage through the wardrobe if it meant they left you alone to sleep.

    However, as human nature entails, curiosity gets the better of you. Your eyes creak open slowly, head popping up inches from the pillow just enough to see Namjoon kneeling on the floor, rummaging through the chest of drawers.

     “Morning,” you say. 

   Namjoon looks up and smiles. His eyes drift down a little bit, but he gives no reaction to your bare chest, and you can’t think of why he would; this used to be the state he saw you in every morning, and so you make no attempts to cover up as you sit up and watch his investigation.

    “What you doing?”

   “Looking for clothes,” he replies. “Do you want to borrow anything for today?”

   “Yes, please.” You crane your neck as if getting a better look at the drawers. “Can I steal that grey hoodie you have?”

  Namjoon sends you a glare. “That’s my favourite hoodie. And it’s always massive on you - you could wear it as a dress, for crying out loud.”

    You simply pout. Namjoon rolls his eyes, digs a little deeper in his pile of clothes before he pulls out the grey hoodie in question and launches it at you. 

    “There.”

   You grin. “Thank you!” You don’t slip it on, though, instead choosing to fiddle with the familiar sleeves whilst staring at Namjoon’s morning physique for a little while longer.

   Finally, he sighs and slumps back on his heels. “I really need to reorganise this entire thing.”

   “When do you ever have that kind of time, Namjoon?”

   “I know. I’ll just have to do it when I get home from work one day.”

    You scoff. “You’re exhausted when you get home from work.” You stand, dragging the hoodie with you but still not putting it on; when Namjoon looks up, again, he barely even registers that you’re currently topless. This is a sight he has seen plenty of times. “You get yourself off to work. I’ll reorganise everything while you’re away.”

    You kneel down next to him and shove his shoulder, an attempt to get him out of the way though he’s quick to catch himself, refusing to move. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

   “You didn’t ask. I offered.” You tap your watch-less wrist. “Now get going or you’re gonna be late.”

   Namjoon stares at you for a moment longer, and it makes your stomach flip; only two weeks ago this would be the moment he leans in and kisses you, tells you he loves you. Now, however, he simply bites his lip, nods his thanks and exits the master bedroom.

    You’re too groggy to think too deeply into it; you’re still tired, and you’re cold, but you’ve got a task to do that will hopefully get your mind off it all. You spend the day marching around your - Namjoon’s - bedroom, finding clothes in the most random of places, subconsciously looking out for clothes that may signify somebody else has been staying the night.

    But there is none, and by the time nine o clock rolls around, you have the entire house back to full organisation, and not a single one of your feelings have been shattered. You would call that a day well spent in comparison to the horrible few weeks you’ve been having recently.

    You slump back on the sofa and turn the TV on, pulling your knees into the oversized hoodie you’re wearing; Namjoon used to always tell you off for this, never appreciating the way you stretched his already four-sizes-too-big hoodie. But in the same breath, he never stopped you, knowing it was a habit you had gotten into when you were younger.

     Namjoon returns at quarter past nine, carrying a bag of takeout. You glance over your shoulder, give him a smile that he quickly returns as he struggles to kick the door closed behind him. You giggle, standing up to help him, though you end up doing nothing more than trailing him into the kitchen.

     “I was hoping you were still here,” he says, setting the takeout bags on the counter. “I got your favourite from the Chinese.”

    You peek into the bag and grin. “Sweet and sour!”

  “Of course. Grab a plate, will you?”

   You do just that. “How was work?”

  “It was alright,” he replies, sucking a bit of honey from his finger. “Yoongi and I are working on a song, but it’s proving to be a bit of a pain, I won’t lie.”

   You furrow your brows, setting the plates on the counter before leaning forward to catch Namjoon’s eye. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

   “Nothing’s wrong with the song. Yoongi knows exactly what he wants for it, but my head just. . . hasn’t been in the right place.” Your stomach drops, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice the implications of his words as he continues bustling about in search of napkins, pint glasses, knives and forks. “They always give you so much. How am I meant to dish it out if-”

    “Have you been alright?”

   Namjoon pauses, thumb halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

  You grab his hand, taking the fork from his fingers and setting it down. “I’ve never known you to have trouble with something like that. Are you alright?”

    “I - what - I mean-” He flicks a desperate gaze towards the living room, as if there is someone standing there that can help him out of this awkward situation. You don’t let it drop that easily, though, as you lean into his line of sight and raise a brow.

     “Well?”

  He deflates. “We just got divorced, Y/N. No, I haven’t been alright.”

    And even though you knew - even hoped - that was the answer, it still makes your heart crumble. You stare at him, biting your lower lip as he shrugs as if to say ah well, what can you do? and turns back to dishing out the food. He starts humming to himself, dropping the subject as quick as it was brought up.

   But you’re not that easy; even after he hands you your meal and leads you back into the living room, his words play on a continuous loop in your head. You flick glances at him, spirits lifting every time you see him laugh at something on the TV, dropping again when you remember what he’s just told you.

    It’s so weird that only a few days ago the two of you were screaming bloody murder at each other. It’s so weird that only a few weeks ago you were scribbling your signature down on a set of divorce papers. It’s so weird that only a few weeks ago, you were convinced you had fallen out of love with him.

    But god, how can that be true when the mention of his hardships make you feel this way, like they’re your own, like you should be the one comforting him when he gets home from work?  

    After dinner has been eaten, you offer to wash the dishes. Namjoon gives you a look as if to say are you crazy? and doesn’t even reply before he’s taking your plate from your lap and heading into the kitchen on his own. You clasp your hands in front of you, watching him leave, your stomach turning with the uncertainty of this entire thing - you want him to feel the same way. With everything in you, you want him to feel the same regret you currently feel at the signing of those papers. 

    But what are the chances?

   You close your eyes, slump back on the sofa and wait for him to return. You used to talk to Namjoon about everything. He knows every single one of your deep, dark secrets - it won’t be difficult to just ask him how he’s feeling. Hell, that used to be something you did all the time, on a daily-

    Your phone rings.

   You jump, grabbing it and looking at the caller ID. Scribbled across the top of your phone is the name ‘ANTHONY.’

     “Him?”

   Your head snaps up. Standing above you is Namjoon, a prawn cracker in his hand and a scowl on his face.

    “What the fuck is he ringing you for?”

  You quickly click cancel, shoving your phone back on the coffee table. “He’s probably just ringing to make sure I got home alright. Are there any more prawn crackers?”

    Namjoon grunts, throwing the bag of prawn crackers onto your stomach before taking a seat on the sofa - the sofa opposite you, whereas once before he was quite content sitting right beside you.

    You stare at him, open mouthed. “Are you being serious?”

  He doesn’t look away from the TV. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

   “Are you huffing?”

    “Huffing? What would I be-”

   “Namjoon, I don’t like Anthony like that. Hell, I barely like him as a friend. You know that!”

  Namjoon furrows his brows, taking a furious bite of his prawn cracker. “How am I meant to know that when you were talking about fucking him yesterday?”

    You freeze. “Oh, Namjoon…”

  Namjoon scoffs, head snapping round. “Yeah, I remember. You two were getting pretty fucking cosy last night.”

    “I was drunk!”

    “I don’t care!”

  “Well clearly you do if you’re getting this worked up about it-”

   “I’m not worked up.”

  “Oh, really? How red your face is getting begs to fucking differ.”

   Namjoon stands. “I’m going to bed.”

    “Oh, so you want the bed tonight, yeah? Shall I take the sofa?”

    “Do you want to change the storage room into a guest bedroom so you can invite Anthony over, too?”

    “I don’t even-”

  You pause, having just realised what has just been said - neither of you acknowledged the fact that you could easily just go back to your own home if you didn’t want to sleep in the same house as Namjoon. Neither of you wanted to admit the fact that this house is no longer yours, that you can leave of your own free will if you so choose. 

    Namjoon purses his lips and looks away. “Or you could go back - go back to your house…”

   “Do you want me to go back to my house?”

   “No.”

   “Do you want me to stay here?”

   “Yes.”

   “Do you want me to sleep on the sofa?”

    A pause, and then, “Not really.”

    You close your eyes. “Namjoon, what are we doing?”

   He falls onto the sofa next to you, dipping his head in his hands. “I don’t know. It’s been driving me mental, though.”

   “Me too.”

   You sit in silence for a few minutes, neither of you sure where to go from here; it’s been two weeks of constant pain and heartbreak, two weeks that could have been avoided if you’d just done this - sat and talked about it all before things got worse.

     “What is going on between you and Anthony?”

   You groan. “You know full well I wouldn’t touch Anthony with an eight foot pole.”

    “So why did you say-”

   “I was trying to make you jealous, Namjoon,” you burst. “It’s not my fault you have every single girl’s eyes on you when you walk anywhere. If you wanted to move on from me, you could have easily done so - I took the first bit of attention I was getting and jumped on it.”

    Namjoon pauses. “Right, but if I could have moved on from you so easily, why haven’t I?”

  “Because you’re sweet and-”

   “Because I love you.”

    You grit your teeth, digging your nails into the sofa cushion; you’re going to cry. You can feel the tears rushing to the surface, either from relief or terror that this is just another step in the wrong direction. You didn’t get a divorce for no reason - back then, it was the right decision to make, so what could have possibly changed now?

    “Namjoon, please don’t say that.”

   His shoulders slump forward. “Okay.”

   And maybe it’s how deflated he sounds, how tired he sounds that makes you do it. Maybe it’s the fact that - only minutes before - you were coming to terms with the fact that you still love him just as much as you loved him when you were in the honeymoon phase, just as much as you have always loved him.

    But you turn so quickly, grab his chin and kiss him, because you’re certain you’re going to explode if you don’t. He grunts against your mouth, eyes widening for only a split second before he’s shifting in his seat and wrapping an arm around your waist, cupping your face with the other in that way he always used to. You could bask in it, could literally live in this state if only it was him, always, always him.

    You pull away first, tears slipping from your eyes. Namjoon rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, ridding you of them with a soft expression on his face that makes you want to melt into him all over again. Instead you choke on a smile, shaking your head in disbelief that this is really happening, that you were both so stupid to think you could live without the other. 

    “What are we doing?” he whispers, not once taking his eyes off you.

    “I don’t know,” you reply. “But I’ve never known what you and I are doing. Ever. For eight years straight.”

    He smiles. “Me neither, to be honest. And it was perfect.”

    You bite your lip, your gaze being enough to form the silent question between the two of you; is this it? Is it over? Is the pain and suffering finally through?

   Namjoon answers the question by kissing your lips, and you laugh against his mouth.

   ----

“Kim Namjoon and ex-wife Y/N L/N caught walking hand-in-hand through the streets of Seoul early this morning! Are the love birds finally back together?”

   Taehyung looks up from the newspaper, examining the scene of you sitting in Namjoon’s lap, him messing idly with the necklace around your neck. Taehyung looks back down and says, “I think so.”

    “You know I’m gonna take the piss out of you both for this for the rest of my life,” Seokjin says, biting into some seaweed strips. “A two week divorce. Almost as bad as a two week marriage.”

    “We won’t acknowledge the divorce,” says Yoongi. “Look at them - it’s like they were never apart in the first place.”

    Namjoon rolls his eyes, tilting his head back. You resist the urge to press your lips to the column of his throat, even though you know full well that’s exactly what he wants you to do. “Look, we’re young. We’re still figuring this shit out.”

   “Have you got it all figured out now?” Hoseok asks. “Because I don’t think I can take much more of your brooding, Namjoon. It was like you’d lost a limb.”

    You chuckle, sitting up so you can look into Namjoon’s eyes. He stares right back at you, not even trying to deny what Hoseok has just said. You press your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “Aw,” against the skin.

    He tightens his hold on your waist. “I already told you I missed you.”

   “But like you’ve lost a limb?”

   Namjoon scowls. “Shut up.”

#bts writing #sfwbangtan #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #fluff #angst #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm x reader #rm fluff #rm fanfic #rm angst #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #my writing #bangtan fanfic #namjoon imagine #rm scenario #namjoon scenario #kim namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon scenario #kim namjoon imagine #bts fic #bangtan fic #namjoon fanfiction #kim namjoon fanfiction

[purplesurveys]

1264

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube?  Oh man, I’m probably subscribed to over a hundred, if not 200. I’ve subscribed to channels relevant to interests I’ve had over the years, and since it’s not my habit to do spring cleaning on my feeds, the subscriptions have just keep piling up even if I no longer keep up with literally like 98% of them.

Do you like to go to the farmer's market?  I don’t think I’ve ever been in one yet. They aren’t very common here and the ones we do have are pricey and mostly inaccessible to the everyday consumer, I’m sure.

What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be?  I wouldn’t want any other color than white.

What's your favorite melon?  I don’t like fruits.

What was the name of the last pet of yours that died?  Arlee. Technically my family mostly considered her as just Nina’s pet, but the sting was felt all the same when we learned she died.

When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with?  Yesterday, because it was Friday. Pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to get to the weekend so I can finally let go of work for a couple of days.

Name one person you've never had a fight with:  Andi. I think we’re both afraid of pissing the other off, which works out for us lol.

What are you currently listening to?  I can just hear the really loud whirring of my electric fan because it’s a grossly humid day today.

What would you rather have: cat or dog?  Dogs.

Who is your least favorite person in real life?  I have a lot of uncles I just don’t like.

Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really?  Technically, yeah. I will sometimes tune in to livestreams of lofi music on YouTube, but I do it to listen, not to watch. 

Does your house have security cameras?  No.

If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be?  I think I might dye it for a certain period of time, but I also think I would eventually reach the point where I’ll just accept it and slowly let go of the dye.

What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened?  I haven’t run into much bad service, but I’ll never forget how long my order and bill took for Mad Mark’s. I never really vowed per se to never go back there again and I definitely didn’t confront the staff, but I haven’t eaten there since that incident.

What soundtrack do you listen to the most?  Not a big soundtrack listener.

Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult?  Nah, they’re kept from us until now. The biggest one I’ve heard about was having a kleptomaniac in the family but we were never told who it is.

Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you?  Yeah, my dislike for fruits.

What’s something you like to have many options to choose from?  Clothes, I guess, like bucket hats. I don’t shop a lot and clothes aren’t a priority in my budget, so when I do pick out clothes, it has to be exactly what I want so that I don’t feel it was a waste of money.

What’s the strangest decorative object you own?  We have several quirky, disconnected decor in the living room from gifts we’ve acquired over the years. One object I can tell you about is the polar bear glass figurine we have on the coffee table.

What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now?  Dating around.

What’s been your proudest moment?  Managing to stay alive this year and turn my life around for the better when I thought there was no hope.

What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen?  Eyes Wide Shut, probably.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals?  I don’t think so. Like any animal...? I would find that quite odd, honestly. And I wouldn’t want to be friends with them if we weren’t already close .

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts?  No, nothing set in stone. I do want to fly out to South Korea soon, though.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal?  I know a few people who are afraid of dogs.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer?  Yeah, Apple.

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills?  Hayley Williams and Jin, especially when he’s belting; and I don’t listen to her much, but I find that Billie Eilish has a unique voice that sounds really nice.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand?  Selena Gomez for some of her songs, Meghan Trainor for most of her songs.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf?  No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today?  Sure.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? My aunt sent over this gigantic-ass slab of salmon that I can’t wait to eat as sashimi. I already had a few pieces last night and it was hea ven ly.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately?  Hmm, I don’t think so. I know my coworker Dev got into a relationship a few weeks ago but it fizzled out as soon as it started because the guy was shitty.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it?  Only on the emotional side; I rarely get physical symptoms. I usually feel down or emotionally heavy a few days before my period.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to?  No, I don’t have any tattoos. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind?  Hmm, like last night. I wanted to stay up to maximize the weekend, buuuut I decided against it and slept instead since I had been up since 2 in the morning.

When was the last time you did something on a whim?  Two weeks ago when I impulsively dropped a thousand bucks to have cheese tarts delivered to Angela and Reena, hahaha.

Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you?  My mom, grandma, and one of my aunts were the main people who raised me. Dad works overseas, so he was never at home much.

Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week?  No, I wouldn’t do that.

Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’  Mik tried to pair me with one of his friends just days before I finally implied on social media that I was no longer in a relationship. It was a cool ego boost but I declined, since my emotions were still super turbulent then. Andi tried to initiate sex with me once too, but I also declined.

What is your card game of choice?  I hate card games; I can never seem to understand them lmao, though that’s really more of a me problem than anything else.

What is your favourite books series?  Growing up, I really loved the Septimus Heap series. But the thing about it was that I got into it while the series was still ongoing; and with how bad my attention span is, I always forgot the events/plot whenever the newest book came out. 

So whenever that happened I had to read the entire series from Book 1; eventually the number of books I had to reread/revisit became too many (it was a seven-part series) and I simply just lost the time to read and I never got to know about the conclusion.

Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions?  Street names – more precise. Landmarks to me can be pretty subjective – a green building might look blue to me, and I could just end up being lost.

Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books?  Sure.

What was your favourite gym class moment?  If I genuinely like or already play the sport that was being taught. That’s why PE table tennis was a lot of fun for me.

Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun?  I’ve never been on one but I imagine they are fun, yeah.

Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks?  That’s not a tradition here.

Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie?  No. I was too young for Scooby-Doo in a sense that I do remember watching the movies as a 3/4 year old as they were kept on in the background at home, but I didn’t get any of the plots/didn’t really appreciate the films.

Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down?  Sometimes, yeah. If the fall looked nasty I would obviously be concerned.

Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past?  Honestly, only one of my grandparents would be the type to do this but he’s been dead for six years now. It’s a big shame he passed before I could bond with him the way I had always wanted to. My three other grandparents are either too closed off or too quiet to share stories from their youth.

Do you have a crush on someone? Nah, nothing more than a celebrity crush.

If so... what does his/her name begin with? 

What attracts you to them? 

Do they know that you like them? 

If they don't know, why didn't you tell them? 

Name two people that you miss:  Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever seen Titanic?  More times than I can count. I’m sure I memorize like 80% of the script, too.

Have you ever swam with dolphins?  No. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen dolphins, either. Maybe I have? Or maybe I’m confusing it with whales...idrk.

When was the last time you had a stomachache?  Wednesday.

What's going to bed early for you?  11 PM or midnight.

Do you want to have a big family in the future?  I used to, but I don’t think that’s the future I want anymore. One or two kids should be okay.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush?  Technically speaking, an orgasm, I guess?? Lmao idk

Favorite Nicholas Cage movie?  I don’t think I have one.

Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have?  Yeah, I’m fully dosed. Sinovac.

If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects?  I was suuuuuuper tired right after my first dose and I wanted to be knocked the fuck out, but I went right back to work after the shot because I am allergic to filing leaves hahaha. Second dose went smoothly.

What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself?  A bucket hat or maybe one of the Fila x BTS shirts because the collection is actually quite cute!

What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful?  I join Facebook groups to be entertained, not because I actively look for advice.

Do you like your butt? Why or why not?  Yeah. It...has a good form hahahahahaha.

Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia?  Yes, a few years ago I went to a food park with my ex-girlfriend. I was already not feeling my best that day to begin with, so having to see an old woman stare daggers at us for what felt like years really stung. I felt small under her look and almost cried, but in the end I felt angry that I momentarily felt shame about my relationship. I decided to just piss the woman off on purpose and do PDA right in front of her.

Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two dogs at present and I know they make me extremely happy.

Who was the last person you went on a date with?  Gabie.

Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid?  No. The first and only time I was hospitalized (other than being birthed), I was about 12, I think.

What’s your favorite way to curl your hair?  I don’t do that. I rarely style my hair.

At what age did you start swearing?  I was 11.

What is something you physically can’t do?  Ride a bike.

What do like better, apples or oranges?  I don’t like any fruits; but in terms of flavored stuff, I like orange-flavored food, especially chewy candy, slightly more.

Around the holidays, do you hope for snow?  Well, no.

What are your top two favorite bands?  Paramore and Against Me!

How many people do you 100% trust?  There are a handful. I generally trust easily just because I like to believe all people are kind and loyal – but I can also take it away in the snap of a finger.

Do you care what others think about you?  Not so much.

Has anyone ever called you a bitch?  Sure.

Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger?  Yeah but just super super faint memories. It wasn’t one of my main shows.

Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license?  I don’t.

Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat?  I doubt it. I could try, but I think I’d get cranky and start looking for meat way earlier than I would like to admit.

Have you ever had a rolling backpack?  Yup, if you mean a stroller. I think I’ve answered this on a previous survey.

Did you make any money today?  No, because it’s a weekend. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from?  Nothing dramatically high. I’ve had acrophobia-themed nightmares in the past, so even though I don’t actually have a fear of heights, the idea of jumping from a high place still makes me antsy.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river?  Not that I can recall.

What was the last souvenir someone got you?  I dunno if it counts but Andi bought merch from the AEW shop but made sure to also get a CM Punk sticker set for me :(

Do you have a favorite remix of a song?  Remixes have never been my thing. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument?  Piano.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies?  Yeah they can definitely affect the level of appreciation I hold towards a film. For instance, if I genuinely enjoyed a movie only to find out it has average to bad reviews, it invites me to think more critically about the movie.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)?  No.

If you had $500,000, what would you do with it?  Give half to my parents and let them do whatever they wish it. With the remaining P12,500,000, I’d probably get myself my own condo and have it fully furnished, then get braces, then get a new phone and laptop. I’ll have a bunch of money still left, I’m pretty sure – the rest of it I’ll save.

Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid?  No. I mean, I have honestly no clue what’s going on in her life now, but I know she doesn’t want kids so this is very unlikely.

"First loves are never really over." Is this true for you?  It’s true in a sense that she left me a lot of trauma and self-esteem issues that will irrevocably always be a part of me now even though I’ve worked hard to resolved most of them by myself.

Did you like Michael Jackson before he died?  Yes, because he has always been my favorite singer’s role model.

What are some things that would make you break up with someone?  I don’t know how to answer this question, honestly. All the red flags were thrown and tossed and slapped into my face and down my throat for six years yet I never left. I don’t actually know what my limits are, and I believe it’s because my coping mechanism has to just accept things and suck them up no matter how bad they get. That’s what I’m trying to change for myself now.

What was the worst breakup you've ever had?  I’ve had two breakups with the same person, and the second one was worse.

#survey #surveys

[disasterdeacy]

Lavender Knots

A/N: somehow managed to get this up 4 hours before I said that I would! I’m gonna keep this AN short, but I do want to tell everyone that your recent love and support and messages have meant the world to me, and interacting with y’all has made me smile SO DAMN MUCH! Ilysm <3 Pairing: Present Day!Brian May x Young Reader Word Count: 17.7k (Its 40 pages on word lol how do you write small things?) Summary: The media is cruel, and while Y/N can deal with the pressures and nasty words, Brian doesn’t want her to have to... so, he decides to try and help her, by breaking up with her.  Warnings: A N G S T (soz), Fluff (i’m not a sadist), Smut (oh boy its nasty), Age Gap, mentions of mortality, mentions of suicidal thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it unless you’re tryna get Bri to give you a baby, in which case, you do you sis), Major FDA Violations.

Throwing down the copy of the daily mail onto your office desk with a huff, you slump in your seat, groaning and picking up your phone to see 2 text messages from Brian. What usually would’ve made your face light up with a smile makes you frown. Since the two of you had started dating 5 months previous, Brian had completely changed your life for the better. You’d practically moved in together after 2 months, not wanting to be apart for a single moment of the time that you had together. Your family and friends had accepted the relationship with mild confusion, but once they saw how much you smiled when Brian was beside you, they understood exactly how you both felt about one another and never said an ill word about the relationship. Surprisingly, Brian’s kids had been very supportive as well, they had been slightly off putting at first, but after an emergency grandkid sleepover, the 3 May children decided you were as incredible a person their father could find, welcoming into the May family with open arms. The media however... had been less than friendly. Which is why today’s Daily Mail article wasn’t exactly a surprise, yet still managed to burn a bit. No woman wants to be called, in not so harsh words, a gold digging whore, for holding her boyfriend’s hand. And based on the text messages that Brian had sent, he wasn’t taking it too well, asking if you would come to his place immediately after work. A nervous pit formed in your stomach upon receiving the message, and stayed there the remainder of the day until you arrived back at his home around 5.

“Bri? Love...” You sit your bag down, wringing your hands as you walk along the foyer, confusion etched on your face; usually Brian was waiting for you at the door.

 “In here, Y/N...” He calls from the living room. He was pacing back and forth by the fireplace for what seemed like hours now, feeling sick to his stomach. He’d been thinking all day after seeing the article—articleS. They were never ending it seemed. He’d tried to ignore them at first but.... they were starting to make sense. Who was he to hold you back the way he was? To tie you down in the worst way? He was old, ancient, dated; he couldn’t give you children, give you lifelong support and stability, couldn’t provide for you. Yes, that last thought alone was proof of how old he was, but... still. Even if you could provide for yourself financially (he had no doubts about that)—a relationship was supposed to be a partnership. Was supposed to be about helping and supporting and fulfilling one another. Any day now could be his last. Perhaps that was being a bit dramatic, but in all honesty? It wasn’t too far from the truth. How long did he have left before he lost mobility, lost his mental state, lost HIMSELF?

And you’d be stuck with him. No. No, he wouldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t. The thought was unbearable. Smiling a little when you hear his voice coming from the living room, you quickly head in there as soon as you’ve taken your shoes off. “There you are, I was beginning to think you’d ran off.”

Trekking over to him, you move to wrap your arms around him like you did every single day, only to have him flinch away and turn towards the fire, his hand on his chin, eyes glassy with the tell tell sign of unshed tears. The action sends your  stomach plummeting into your  knees, he’d never been so cold or distant, and every insecurity that you’d buried deep for so long came rushing to the surface.

“B-Bri, what’s wrong?” Your voice sounds pathetic, small, weak, and the complete opposite of your normally cheery and boisterous tone. You reach out for him unconsciously, something you were beginning to do a lot of lately, before realizing what you were doing and holding your arm firm to your side, a cold chill running up your spine despite the heat from the fire. “Please, I-I just.. you’re scaring me...”

He swallows hard, closing his eyes a little, but regretting the movement when tears spill down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to wipe them away—the least he can give you right now are his true emotions

“Y/N, I think... I think maybe we should—should take a step back. From things.”

God, he was pathetic. He couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t even give it to you straight. He loved you so much—this was the last thing he wanted! But he wasn’t good for you. That old cliché “if you love something, let it go?”. He never thought it was true. But... maybe in this situation, it was… In your relatively short life, you’d never had to experience something that had the potential to break your heart, never been subjected to a time when you could physically feel your insides disintegrating, so you didn’t know how it felt.. not until Brian’s words sunk in.

“W-what do you mean take a s-step back.. Bri..” Your hands were shaking, hell your whole body was shaking, you knew what he meant, you knew what he was saying, you just…didn’t want to believe it.

“Y-you’re not... Brian, you can’t do this…” Your voice is heavy and choked with tears, every feeling you’d been subjected to over the past 5 months was crashing through you like a goddamn cannonball, and it wasn’t a good feeling. Everything had been for nothing..

“D-do you j-just not love me? Is that it? Did y-you... was all of this a lie” You can’t even make it to the couch to sit down, collapsing onto the floor as the weight of the situation takes hold.

Brian is  shaking himself. He’s scared to touch you—scared of how you’ll react, of how HE’LL react. So he slowly sinks down to the floor next to you, sitting there, utterly defeated.

“I do love you. I love you more than anything else in my life,” His breath hitches; breaks. He tries to keep speaking.

“I love you more than anyone I’ve ever—" More tears fall, and he stares at his trembling hands.

“I’m no good for you, Y/N. Who are we—who are we kidding? You need someone else. You need things I can’t g-give you. You’re going to be 30, taking care of your boyfriend who can’t walk, can’t think for himself—will I even live to see you reach 40? Do you want to be a 40 year old woman tied down to a 91 year old?? How is that... how is this...”

His voice cuts out, and when he speaks again, it’s more than obvious how much pain he’s in.

“How could I do that to you? How could I let myself just... burden you?”

You can’t even look at him, hurt, betrayal, anger, sadness, goddamn near every emotion is washing through you now, taking your heart and smashing it against a rock. I want to be rational, to talk this out with him, to be an adult… It was obvious that he didn’t want this, that his heart was breaking just as much, if not more, that your’s…but you were just so goddamn HURT.

“Y-you said you w-would never hurt me Brian, you PROMISED that you w-would never I do a-anything to make me cry, a—" The dam breaks and you’re sobbing, hands moving to cover your face as you draw your knees closer to your chest, just trying to hide yourself away from the world, from your own embarrassment.

“I love you Brian, only I g-get to decide what’s g-good for me! I-I can’t believe you’d do this to me... a-after everything...” You feel horrible, more than horrible, because you know he means well, deep down you know that... but you can’t help it. You’re pissed, you’re hurt, and you’re not looking to spare any feelings, no matter how much you love and care for Brian.

“Fuck you Brian.. goddamnit, I gave you everything I had, and you j-just... I hate you..”

Its immature, not poetic, and certainly not something you’d ever thought you would say to him, but it’s what you were feeling, and those feelings were valid. Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing up on shaky legs, basically running to the door, somehow having enough of a mind to grab your purse before walking right back out into the cold London air, your tears nearly freezing against your cheeks.

Brian flinches at your words, a small sob bursting from his chest. He just sits there; why should he stop you? You hated him. You HATED him. The words kept echoing through his mind. He’d been right—he was bad for you. This proved it. He hurt everyone he ever loved. Every time he tried to do the right thing.... He’s suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea, and he fumbles for the wastebin that was luckily over to the side of the wall. As soon as he gets it in his hands, he’s throwing up into it, his stomach emptying itself. He just feels completely numb. He knows he’s still crying but he can barely feel it; can honestly barely feel anything. Not the heat of the fire, not the hard ground below him hurting his legs. All there is in his head is your words. He can’t even fucking move.

You don’t even know how long you’ve walked for, tears streaming down your cheeks. You were hurt, betrayed, gutted, and immensely guilty at what you had said to Brian. He had been through so much in his life, had lost so many people, he didn’t deserve to be told that someone hated him.. he didn’t deserve that from you, not even when he’d hurt you so badly… You knew why he had said what he did, why he wanted to end your relationship, and if you had just stayed and talked it out with him rationally, like an adult, the two of you would’ve been eating dinner together now. But instead, you’re walking up the stairs to Roger’s house, surprise etched onto your face at the fact that your feet had led you to Brian’s best friend’s door. The two of you had developed an incredible relationship over the span of you and Bri’s, and you knew that you could come to him if anything went wrong, but.. you still felt bad for doing this. When you buzz the gate, he’s outside within 30 seconds, noticing your distraught appearance and quickly ushered you inside, holding you close as he can while you cry. He asks no questions, just comforts you with his embrace before settling you into a guest room.

Brian sits on the ground for a long time—until the fire dies down at least. His phone rings several times, and he can see that it’s Roger, but he doesn’t answer. He’s literally just staring off into space. He feels pathetic and shitty and horrible—but he’s not thinking that because he feels that way. He’s thinking it in the sense of being a horrible person. He knows he should get up and brush his teeth and shower and maybe eat something, but it’s like he can’t. He hasn’t felt like this in... well, he knows when. But thinking about that makes everything worse. The thought crosses his mind that he has nothing to live for anymore, but his logical brain knows that’s not true. That it’s just the depression talking. That he still has his kids. His grandkids. Roger. Unless they all take your side. He wouldn’t blame them if they did.

There had never been a moment in your life where you’d cried yourself to sleep as fast as you did that night. As soon as your head had hit the pillow, the floodgates opened again and every horrible emotion you’d felt that day came rushing right back. You were nauseous, throwing up into the toilet of the en-suite bathroom three times before you managed to calm down. You can hear Roger downstairs, and for some reason just knowing that you weren’t alone was comfort enough. You somehow managed to crawl back into bed despite the debilitating pains in your stomach, head, and chest. This was never a situation you’d thought you’d find yourself in, not with Brian, you’d been so strong and sure in the relationship. Sure, you had only been dating for 5 months, it felt like you’d known him your whole life.. you had been waiting for a proposal any day now…but now.. now it was just over. By some miracle, you manage to fall asleep that night without any nightmares, because for once, your reality was scarier than anything your mind could dream up.

When Brian finally hauls himself up off the floor, his joints creak and bones ache. He gets rid of the mess in the wastebin, and heads upstairs to his bedroom. He showers, doing his best not to eye the razor sitting inconspicuously in the corner. He needed to shave, but didn’t want to chance anything. He wouldn’t backslide; not that far. Still, he doesn’t allow himself to eat after his shower is done. It’s some level of self punishment he’ll allow, even if he shouldn’t. His phone is still ringing off the hook so he finally answers. It’s not very polite, his telling Roger to fuck right off and stop calling him. He knows he sounds absolutely horrible, but... that’s who he was, wasn’t he? A horrible person, who didn’t deserve you in the first place, and definitely doesn’t now.

The first thing that registers when you wake up is that it’s still dark out, and your head is pounding worse than any hangover has ever caused, probably because you’d cried yourself into dehydration. Checking your phone, you’re a little shocked to see that it’s 4am, and that you had about 400 missed calls and texts from Louisa. The sight makes your  heart shatter even more, knowing that you and her father were over... Sighing, you sit up in bed, smiling a little at the Panadol and water that Roger had left by your bed before throwing it back and getting out of bed. Your legs are wobbly, but you needed to do something. You were stronger than this, you had to be the strong one in the relationship relationship, you always had been.. and when you read the texts from Louisa, that Roger had called her, that Brian wasn’t answering any of her phone calls or the door to their house, a sinking pit forms in your stomach, one that you’d only felt the time you’d had to pull your best friend out of the bathtub.. Quickly opening your Uber app, you grab my things and head downstairs, shooting a text to Roger thanking him for everything before you walk out the door, locking it behind you. You hoped that he was strong enough not to do what you were fearing, and you desperately hoped to god that the Uber driver didn’t mind breaking a few laws.

Brian is still laying curled up in bed even after he wakes up, the drapes still closed, everything dark. His stomach was screaming at him to eat something, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to if he tried. He just kept thinking about everything—your words, your crying, the look on your face. You’d been so... angry. God, it made his stomach curdle again just thinking about it. He’d left his phone unplugged, and all the ringing and messages had eventually caused it to die.

 Thankfully Roger’s London home wasn’t too far from Bri’s, and the Uber driver could obviously tell that you were distressed, and kindly stepped on it. Once you were at the front door, after a quick thank you, you shakily pull the keys from your bag, unlocking the door before going to turn off the alarm, only to realize it’d not been turned on. Furrowing your brows, you sit everything down on the dining room table before moving around the first level of the house, searching in vain to find Brian, and with every room you exited with no sign of him, the pit in your stomach grew. You don’t even know how you’d managed to climb the stairs with your legs shaking the way they were, but once you reach the upper landing, you take a deep shuddering breath and head towards Brian’s room, pausing outside the door, just trying to prepare yourself for what you might find. However, what you find is better than the alternative, but still breaks your heart; well, the shards that were left of your heart. Brian was lying still on your side of the bed, curled around your pillow, his body shaking with sobs you weren’t even sure he knew were happening.

“B-Bri.. love…” Your voice is soft, you don’t want to scare him as you tentatively approach the bed.

He barely registers your voice; it literally doesn’t even compute in his brain. It’s not until he sees you that he blinks up at you, frowning, trying to process what he’s seeing. He feels light headed honestly. He was probably dehydrated from crying and puking, and weak from having not eaten.

“I—Y/N? What’re y’doing here?” His words are literally slurred, and he’s embarrassed by how rough he must look.

You can feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to cloud your vision as you look down at Brian. He had obviously taken a shower, which was good, but he was as pale as a ghost, shaking all over, and based on the way his body was curled up against your pillow, he was just as upset and distraught as you were, probably more. Sighing, you drop to your knees beside him, brushing a shaking hand through his hair before resting it on his cheek, swallowing hard, not wanting to scare him or give him any other reason to feel shitty. “I-I couldn’t just leave you like that Bri, I was horrible to you, said things in anger that I never should’ve said... that I never meant..” Your voice cracks a little, worry and pain working it’s way back inside of your chest.

“I should’ve been m-more mature, not walked out like that.. we needed to sit down and talk this out, and instead I-I just blew up and hurt you so much…” Leaning down and place a kiss to his cheek, your tears start to fall.

“I don’t even know how to begin going and asking for your forgiveness.”

He shakes his head weakly, lightheaded as he does so. He’s shivering, freezing cold even under his thick duvet. “I d-deserve it. I deserve for you to h-hate me. I hurt you—m’not good for you, I...” He hitches out a breath, though it’s more like a sob. He curls further in on himself, party hoping you’re just his imagination; that maybe you actually do love him after all. That you can convince him that none of it matters except their love for one another.

“Oh Bri, look at me honey, please…” He doesn’t, only shoves his face further into the pillow, body shaking with sobs, the sound making your own tears fall heavily, clouding your vision.

“I love you Brian, I don’t hate you, I n-never could.. I was angry, and hurt, but I don’t hate you…” He only cries harder, so you quickly crawl into bed behind him, wrapping your arms tight around his body, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could, just wanting to comfort him.

“You don’t deserve for me to hate you, you don’t deserve for anyone to hate you honey, I love you so much, and I’m so so sorry I acted like that…” Your stomach was hurting something fierce, like 10,000,000 tiny knives of regret were stabbing you over and over.

He turns and just clings to you, sobbing into your neck, fear and anxiety and worthlessness all mixing together inside of him. He hates himself for hurting you, for clinging to you, for being so goddamn pathetic. But he’s crying so hard he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t deserve your arms around him but he somehow has them.

“I- l-love y-you” It is all he manages to rasp out between sobs, his hands clutching your back so hard he is sure bruises will form… another reason for him to hate himself.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, squeezing him tighter as you sit up against the headboard so he can breathe better, your lips pressed firmly into his hair, your hands brushing up and down his naked back.

“Shhh, it’s okay Brian, I’ve got you honey, you’re okay.” Your tears are still falling, being absorbed by his curls.

“I need you to breathe for me honey, in and out, in and out.. cmon Bri, I don’t want you passing out, it’s okay…” You start to rock him back and forth as you talk softly to him, just wanting him to calm down enough to where you knew he wouldn’t have a panic attack.

“I-I-Im s-s-so-sorr-y.” He is shivering, trying to following your breathing techniques, trying to get ahold of himself. Jesus, he was so pathetic. “I l-l-love y—" He can’t finish it, his chest clenching painfully, which scares him. He couldn’t have a heart attack now; it was the absolute worst time. So he starts frantically trying to do the breathing exercises, vision still blurry with tears.

Noticing his panicked expression, the way he’s clutching his chest, you know he was already too far gone to avoid the panic attack. “C’mon Bri, let’s get you in the shower.” The shower was the only thing that you’d found worked on him, would help him calm down.. a nice warm shower. Somehow you manage to get him out of the bed, his arms still tight like a vice around you as you try your best to get him into the walk in shower, turning it on as fast as you can, not even caring that you were fully dressed and he was naked still, more than likely from his earlier shower. “Come here love, breathe baby, look at me and breathe, you’re gonna be okay, I’m not going anywhere.. I love you.” You sit down beside him, taking his cheeks between your hands, eyes level and staring hard into his, breathing in and out to show him how to do it

He just feels like he’s spiraling. Like he can’t get anything back under control. He’s fucking terrified; he’s SURE that he’s dying. That this is it, it’s a heart attack, and he’ll be dead on the floor soon, and you’d be happy about it. And yet, the more you encourage the special breathing, the more he does it, until finally, his brain has come back down to his current state: sitting down under the hot spray of the shower, doing purposeful, structured breathing. He still feels numb, but it’s not.... everything, like it had been

“There we go honey, good job...”

You hold him close, pressing a series of kisses to his temple, his cheeks, his forehead, just trying to ground him in any way you can. His arms are still wrapped tightly around you, holding you like a vice.. you don’t even think he truly realizes he’s doing it.

“I love you so much Brian... I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so fucking sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to help you see how much I love you, how much you mean to me…” Your voice cracks, emotions seeping out despite how hard you were trying to push them back to focus on Brian. “Please believe me Bri, I’m so so sorry, and I love you more than anything...”

“I love you too. I love you, I love you, please don’t h-hate me, please. I know I d-deserve it, but I—I love you so much I only want what’s b-best for you.” He presses his face into your neck, kind of choking a bit on all the water streaming down onto y’all, but he doesn’t care

You turn a little to maneuver it to where the water is hitting your backs, your arms still tightly wrapped around him, head resting on his

“Shh, no you don’t Brian, you don’t deserve me to hate you, and I don’t, I could never.” You start rocking him back and forth like a child in need of reassurance and comfort, which was basically what he was now, desperate for care.

“I know you only said those things because you wanted what was best for me, but you’re what’s best for me Brian.. I was only away from you for 11 hours and I felt like a piece of my soul had been cut loose, I can’t lose you..” You let out a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “ H-How can I be what’s b-best for you when I m-make you feel like this!? How can I—" He swallows hard, trying to chill out, feeling humiliated that you’ve seen him like this, but knowing deep down this is what a relationship was supposed to entail; being vulnerable. If you couldn’t see him like this, nobody could. That didn’t mean he felt necessarily good about it, that the thoughts in his brain didn’t try to skew every little ounce of happiness he felt.

“How c-can I be best f-for you when I can’t even b-BE there for you?” His voice is weak and defeated, his true feelings finally coming to the surface after hours of trying to suppress them. Brian’s sobs weren’t as loud anymore, but his voice was still shaky and hitched, and it cut you like a knife to hear his words.

“Bri.. love, yes you made me feel bad, but that’s one time in a whole cornucopia of times you’ve made me feel so much better…” Reaching up, you cup his face in your hands, making him look into your eyes.

“Just because you’ve hurt me once doesn’t mean you meant to, or will do it again.. you meant well Brian, I know that.. I know that you love me and you only wants what’s best...” You try to steady your voice and keep calm, but you can’t help but sniffle at his last words, the weight of them pressing down on your very soul.

“You ARE there for me Bri, you’ve been here for me since the beginning, and I-I love you! I love you so much, please believe me…”

Tears are still falling from his red rimmed hazel eyes, though he’s not sobbing anymore.

“Y/N it’s not... it’s not about now.” He closes his eyes; he can’t look at you, too ashamed and guilty to see the tears and pain behind your eyes. “It’s about later.” He sighs. “I’m 72, Y/N. 72.”

A cold shiver runs up your spine at the implications of his words, tears springing to your eyes as well as you try to push back the thoughts you’d fought for so long.

“I-I know that Brian, I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you...” You grasp his hand, the action shaky and unsure, your poor heart aching.

“I know we won’t have forever together, t-that I m-might only get 20 years tops with you, b-but I don’t care Bri, I would rather spend 20 minutes with you than 50 years with someone else.” The sob you’d been trying to choke back finally manages to release itself, and you have to duck your head to keep him from worrying. He already had enough to worry about without you blubbering.

“I-I love you, I love you more t-than I’ll ever be able to love anyone else, a-and I-I just, I want to spend every single m-moment we have together loving y-you.”

The older man is  quiet, listening to you. He doesn’t know what to think; what to believe. He knows his own brain—his own thoughts—are intruders. But it makes everything so much harder. He just wraps his arms around you tightly, eyes clenched shut “I’m s-sorry. You deserve better.”

His voice is quiet, hopeless. He just... doesn’t know what to do. He wants you, but feels selfish for doing so. Doesn’t want to push you away, but isn’t that the responsible thing? Or is his mind just tricking him into thinking that?

You just sob harder when he pulls you close, resting his head on yours as you bury your face into his chest. You’re clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you connected to gravity, because in a way he is. The two of you stay like that for a while, you sobbing, him holding onto you for dear life, but after god knows how long the water starts to run cold. Sniffling, you reluctantly pull away from Brian, standing on wobbly legs to turn the water off, clothes absolutely saturated.

“W-well, guess I don’t have to worry about washing these later.”

You try to make a joke, chuckling lightly. Brian just stares at the tiled floor of the large shower, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Sighing, you crouch down beside him, taking his hand in yours. “C’mon honey, let’s get you dried off and in bed while I go make you some toast okay? I know you haven’t eaten…” He never ate when he got like this, and it was something that scared you tremendously.

He sniffles, struggling and stumbling to get to his feet “Don’t wanna eat.” He’s quiet, his eyes trained on the ground

“I don’t want you to have to take care of me. Don’t wanna be a burden.” Swallowing hard, his stomach curdles again. He has to stop moving; has to balance himself against the wall, otherwise he knew for a fact that he would collapse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats again, wincing when you sigh at him.

“And I’m sorry for apologizing.” His voice shakes, he’s shivering from the cold, and you immediately head over to him, rubbing his arms with your hands, just trying to create some friction/ “I can—I’ll s-stop.” He’s a little dizzy, but still, he moves to grab two towels, one for you and one for himself.

“Here, Brian, just—just let me help you.” You rush to the door, grabbing the towels from him and wrapping him tightly in one. He winces and flinches away from you, making your stomach churn involuntarily.

Stepping  in front of him, you grab his biceps a little harder than necessary, well actually it was the proper amount of force that Brian needed to pull him out of his mind, but you still felt a little bad for the bruises you would probably use.

“Brian. Look at me, and listen to me okay?” Your eyes are hard and stern, you only want to be soft and sweet to him, but sometimes when he would get too far into his head, he needed hard. “You. Are. Not. A. Burden.. you don’t have to apologize for how you feel, you NEVER have to be sorry for how you feel... I love you Brian, I am your girlfriend, your partner in life, and I am going to stay right here, beside you, for the rest of our lives.”

His breath hitches, fresh tears somehow filling his eyes. He winces a little at your grip, but doesn’t really mind it, even if it’s bruising. He just nods, wordless. It’s silent, and then he finally stutters out a word. “O-okay.” he swallows. “I’m sorry—" he cuts himself off, wincing at his automatic apology. “I mean— I’m trying,” it’s stupid to say. He knows words are empty without action. “I love you, too.”

“I know honey, I know you’re trying.” You smile at him gently, moving your hands from his arms up to his face, thumbs rubbing the tears away from his cheeks. “I love you, and I’m going to help you okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you’re never going to be alone in this.” You sniffle, willing your tears away. He’s shivering in the cold, the fluffy towel doing nothing to warm him.

“Come on honey, come lay down.. it’s late, well, early… but, you... you need to sleep.” You grab his hands gently, bringing them to your lips to kiss. “Please?” Your words are desperate, you just want him to be okay, that’s all you ever want.

He nods, letting you pull him back into the bedroom. He’s quiet as you dry him off, his hands on your shoulders to balance himself. He feels... brittle. Like one false move and he’ll break into a million pieces. When you come back from throwing the towels in the hamper, he speaks “Will you... would you stay?”

Nodding gently, you strip out of your clothes before slipping on one of Brian’s oversized sleep shirts. “Of course honey, here...” You bring back the covers, sliding in and pulling him in beside you. “Come here Bri, let me hold you.” He nods and sniffles, wrapping him up in your arms, pulling him close to your chest.

Brian cuddles in close, clinging to you. He’s naked and cold, and essentially tries to bury himself into you and the blankets. He ducks his hands under your shirt, trying to warm them against your skin. You smelled good; smelled comforting. He lets out a shuddering breath, his body slowly warming up.

You shiver a little at Brian’s touches, smiling when he curls in deeper “There ya go baby, just let go.” You drop a kiss to his head, sighing deeply as his hands move up to cup your breasts, your heart pounding at the simple motion.

“You okay baby? What do you need me to do for you honey?” You speak gently, hands moving up and down his naked back

“I need—" He shivers, hands squeezing your breasts gently. “Need you to punish me. He murmurs the words, embarrassed. He doesn’t know how to explain it. His brain was working nonstop, all sorts of negative thoughts and horrible feelings settling in his mind. He couldn’t hurt himself—knew he shouldn’t. That’s what he used to do, when he was younger, when things got bad. But, maybe this would work.

You freeze your movements, eyebrows raising into your hairline at his words. “A-are you sure honey? Are you up for it?”

You were definitely concerned about why he was asking this of you, but you also knew that when he got into this headspace, one thing that helped bring him out was intimacy, but this? Trailing your hands up to his face, you tilt his eyes up towards you, concern written clearly on your face. “Brian, I-I need to know you’re not asking this because you think you deserve to be hurt.. I want to help you, b-but I need you to know that you don’t deserve to be harmed because of how you feel.”

He swallows hard, looking up at you warily “I don’t know about what I deserve but... it’s what I need.” He quiets.

“I need you to hurt me. I can’t do it myself, and it—It’s the only thing that... that helps,” He feels ashamed of his words; of himself. But this was the best alternative to other things. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You quickly sit up, brushing your hands through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay Bri, I just—I wanna make sure you are sure and you’re okay with it.” The idea of him hurting himself made you nauseous, and if you could do something, anything... to help him feel better and more at ease, you would do. “I want to help you, wanna do whatever you need me to do honey.” You move to straddle his hips, running my hands down his chest, scraping my nails over his nipples, trying to build up to the punishment. “Now... tell me what you want baby, how do you want mommy to punish you…”

He whimpers, back arching up into your touch. He lets out a shuddering breath, trying to think.

“I—I don’t—" He swallows, throat clicking. He wants to feel something, wants something sharp to cut him out of his head

“... spank me.” He flushes, embarrassed at his request.

You can’t help but let out a deep moan at his words, your hands moving to his face to bring his lips up to yours.

“That’s what you want honey? You want mommy to bend you over her lap and spank you for being so naughty?” Speaking against his lips, you bring his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down gently. “Can’t believe you’re such a little slut for me Brian, I can already feel your cock throbbing just imagining my hand on your pretty little ass.” He whimpers, nodding quickly. “Please. I wanna—wanna feel your hands on me—' His breathing is a little shallow, his cock chubbing up despite itself. “Want it to h-hurt to sit down tomorrow. Want to have w-welts.” He’s blushing; he’s never asked for something like this from anyone before. Sure, maybe he’d been dommed, but not this.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna regret asking this...” You smirk wolfishly, sliding off of him, making sure to drag your naked cunt over his cock, pleasure and pride filling your stomach at the whimper that leaves his mouth.

“Come here slut, lay down on my legs...” He eagerly does as you say, rutting his cock against the mattress. “No sir.”

You bring your hand down hard on his ass, biting your lip at the sound the clap of skin makes. You’d dommed him before, been really rough, but never once had you hurt him because he was desperate for it. “You don’t fucking move understand? You don’t deserve to get any pleasure do you? You only get to be spanked like the little whore you are.”

 “ N—No. No, I don’t deserve it. I don’t.” He stutters out, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over to him, shoving his face into it. He clings to the fabric, spreading his legs a little, trying to get into a position he could hold. Please—Please, Y/N— Please, Miss!”

The title sends a rush of arousal in between your thighs, a small moan escaping your throat as you bring your hand down again, harder than before, smirking when he whimpers into the pillow.

“God Brian, you’re such a goddamn slut, look at you all spread out for me to spank.”

You slap his cheeks harder and harder with every go, feeling a little bad about it, about causing him pain.. but, you fucking loved it, loved how hard he was clenching the pillow

He cries out into the pillow, trembling all over, but moaning all the same. He feels messy and dirty and nasty and he loves it. “Fuck, Th-thank you, Miss. I’m a little s-slut. That’s a-all I am.”

He shifts again, trying to move further into your lap from where he was slipping a little. His legs slip open a little more, just as your hand aims for his lower cheek, and as a result, half of your slap lands across his balls. He cries out louder than before, tears springing to his eyes—and yet, he’s never been so hard in his life. “Oh f-fuck—"

Your eyes widen and your persona drops just a fraction, concerned for Brian. “Oh god, honey are you o—"

He’s whimpering and rutting again, his breathy moans going straight to your cunt. “You liked that didn’t you you little whore? You liked me slapping your balls?”

He just whimpers and nods, biting down on the pillow to stop his noises being too loud, which you were having none of. Reaching over you grab his chin and turn his face towards you, your eyes stern, voice hard as you grab hold of his balls in a grip that was just borderline mean.

“Don’t you EVER cover up your noises honey, I wanna hear how hot you are for me.” One firm smack on his ass later and his voice is choking out a sob, begging for more.

He feels dizzy, but in a better way than he had been feeling. He sobs out your name, his hips moving against his will, trying to rut his cock against your thigh. Each movement of his hips caused you to tug on his balls, which were still stinging from the slap earlier. His ass felt like it was on fire, but he loved it. “P-Please... Please!”

His whole body jerks when you spank him again, and he gasps out your name once more. “Y/N I—Oh fuck, I might c-cum—"

Pride swells inside of you, knowing that you had this effect on him, that he trusted and loved you enough to be so vulnerable with you. “Yeah? You gonna cum just from me spanking your slutty ass?”

You start to deliver blow after blow, one hard slap after another, rotating between pulling on his balls and slapping his ass. “Of course you are baby, or course you’re gonna cum just from this.. goddamnit you just love being punished by me don’t you honey, just love having your little man cunt absolutely destroyed because you know it’s what you deserve...” You’ve leaned down, whispering in his ear as you continue to smack and tug, knowing he’s close as can be, just hoping to send him over the edge.

Your final words do it, humiliation streaking through him. He lets out a sob, feeling the dirtiest he’s ever felt in his life as his hips jerk, his cock pulsing out cum messily all over your leg and the bedspread. He’s gasping for air, tears blurring his vision so much that he just closes his eyes. His hips continue to twitch, his balls pulsing in your hand.

“There ya go honey, just let go—breathe for me baby…” You run your hands up and down Brian’s back, gently scraping your nails along the slightly tanned skin to try and bring him back to earth. His entire body was shaking, and his hot cum completely coated your leg, only a few drops seemed to have gotten on the bed, which was a miracle in and of itself. You spare a glance down to Brian’s poor cheeks, wincing a bit as you take in just how red and welted they are. You’d need to get him an ice pack and some salve ASAP, but, you couldn’t move just yet, not with him clinging to your legs the way he was. “Baby, you did so good for me, I’m so so proud of you honey.. such a good boy.”

 He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, his head spinning. His ass hurts, but it feels good at the same time. No regrets. And despite his spinning head, his mind feels clearer than it has in days. “Fuck.” He murmurs, wiping his face on the pillow below him. His hand comes down to fumble at you, finally settling on your side. “T-thank you. I love you s-so much.”

 You bend over, pressing a series of kisses to his back and neck, your hands running up and down the cool skin before moving to rest on the hand he’s placed on your hip.

“I love you too Brian, so much…” Taking one last look at his red bottom, you sigh a little.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you cleaned up and then you can lie down and I’ll rub some salve over you okay? I don’t want you being in too much pain.” You make a move to stand, helping Brian do the same as you lead him to the bathroom, cleaning him and yourself up as quickly as you can before grabbing every moisturizer we own, plus making a quick get away downstairs to grab a few ice packs. Returning to the bedroom, you smile gently when you see him standing beside the bed, hands crossed in front of him, a deep red flush from his hairline to his thighs. “Okay honey, you lie down on your tummy and let me take care of you okay? Just relax and I’ll make you feel good…”

He nods, doing what you say easily, happy to follow your instructions. He lays down gingerly, wincing a little but trying to hide it; he doesn’t want you to feel bad.

He jumps at the first touch of your hand to his skin, but soon he’s sighing happily, relaxing into the mattress.

“That feels nice, love. Really good.” He moans softly, your hands lulling him into security.

 You can’t help but feel a little bad about the welts already forming on Brian’s ass, the redness making my heart clench, but seeing how calm and at ease the action had made him gives you a sense of peace... besides, if it helped him, you weren’t about to refuse him.

“If this is going to be a regular occurrence, I’m gonna have to invest in some top notch blister lotion for you honey.” You chuckle lightly, massaging the lavender lotion deep into his red skin, the sounds of his soft moans filling the room.

 He lets out a sound that’s an honest to god giggle, still feeling a little lightheaded, but this time from the subspace he was floating in.

“Maybe that would be a good investment for us, then. Though I like this...” He trails off, as if losing his train of thought, only to speak again after a long pause. “It smells nice.”

You chuckle “It does smell nice doesn’t it? Lavender helps relax you and soothes the skin, it’s exactly what you need honey.”

You keep kneading his ass for a little bit longer, smiling widely at his little noises, loving that you were making him feel good and relaxed. “You want me to get your back too Bri? Since I’m already back here.”

It just seemed logical, that you would continue the massage. It was about 5:30am at this point, and you knew we both needed to sleep, but Brian was loving this massage, and he seemed more relaxed than he had in weeks, so you weren’t about to stop now.

He pulls himself up on his elbows to look back at you, expression open and vulnerable. “You... you don’t have to.”

He feels a bit of guilt creeping in—nothing like the feelings he was having earlier, but... you’d done so much for him, and he’d done nothing for you.

You reach forward, scratching his back gently.

“I don’t mind baby, I wanna make you feel good.” You know he’s reluctant to accept, he always wants to be the one to take care of you, but he just.. he needs to be taken care of, and you didn’t mind “If you don’t want me to, I won’t Bri, but I just wanna make you feel special.” You lean down and place a single kiss to the middle of his spine, the action gentle and reassuring.

He thinks for a moment before settling back down into his pillow, nodding, his curls bouncing a little.

“Okay, love. If you want to, it would—it would feel nice.” His muscles still ached from his long period of sitting on the floor of the living room earlier.

“Thank you. I love you.” He murmurs into the soft fabric under his face, savoring the words, remembering how just a couple hours ago he’d lost the right to say such a thing.

You move your lips up his spine some more, nipping the skin just a little.

“Of course baby.. you deserve it.” You lean back, squirting some of the lotion onto his back, giggling a little when he jolts.

“Sorry, it’s a little cold.” He snorts, shaking his head against the fabric of the pillow. Shaking your own head, you start massaging his back, straddling his lower back as you work on his traps, digging in hard, working the knots out, your brows furrowing at how tense he was.

“Oh my god Brian, you’re so tense.. I’m gonna have to start doing this more often.. can’t have you getting knots like these on tour.”

He grunts a little at your ministrations—they kinda hurt, but in the best way. Just like earlier.

“Well, I’m an old man, lovely. I’m surprised my entire body isn’t one big knot.” He stretches a little, his muscles rippling under his skin, under your hands. “They work themselves out on tour, mostly. At least I’m moving around on stage. Rog has to sit most of the time.”

You have to bite your lip at the feeling of his muscles moving and tightening underneath your hands, your naked cunt still pressed firmly against his lower back. You were praying, for the first time in years, that he couldn’t feel your wetness, that he wouldn’t be freaked out by you being turned on by this.

“If you were one big knot, I’d spend everyday unfurling it for you.” Leaning down, you place a kiss to the back of his head, nuzzling his silver curls just a tad.

“You’re just gonna have to bring me with you to be your personal masseuse then.. I don’t want you “working out” your knots in stage, you need to be cared for... tenderly…”

“Personal masseuse hmm?” He chuckles softly, sounding thoughtful.

“Sounds like that’s a job that benefits you more than it does me.” He teases lightly; it felt like every nerve of his was alight, feeling every touch of yours—and he did mean EVERY touch. Besides, he knew by now what you sounded like when you were turned on

“Still, I’d be more than happy to offer you the position. You’re more than qualified, you know.”

Chuckling lightly at his words, you move your hands down further on his back, closer to where you were straddling him, yet you were still leaned over, your lips presses against the back of his neck.

“Yeah? Am I just that good or are you trying to butter me up?” He adjusts himself, bucking up into you just a little, causing your clit to rub deliciously against his back. The resulting whimper was one that you couldn’t keep back, and anyway, your mouth was so close to his ear there was really no sense in you trying to hide it... besides, you wanted him to know now, wanted him to know that you wanted HIM.

He groans at the noise you make; at the soft, warm slickness of your cunt against his skin

“Well I’d say you’re the best damn masseuse I’ve ever had, love. You’ve just got a.... unique touch.” He smirks to himself at his dumb innuendo

“.... here’s an idea. How’s about a head massage?”

You stop your movements, sitting up just a little bit as confusion washes over you at his words…you think you know what he’s saying, but.. you’re not entirely sure “H-head massage?”

You hitch out a gasp as he bucks his back again, your clit caught between his skin and your own. “I-I can g-get the head scratcher if you want honey, if that’s what you n-need.” Your head lolls forward, hitting his upper back, a breathy moan escaping your mouth.

He laughs before wriggling himself around under you. You climb off him in confusion, your brows arched at him. He rolls onto his back for tugging at you again.

“Okay, come back.” You straddle his hips, and his hands settle on your waist

“No, up here.” He tugs at you, urging you further up his body, a little smirk on his face.

“You can put your hands in my hair the way I like, but I want you—" You’re straddling his stomach now, and he pouts, trying to get you up to his face. “—closer.”

You raise your eyebrows, smirk wide on your face when you finally understand what he wants. “Oh really? How much closer?”

You slowly drag my pussy along his stomach, inching your way towards his chest. “Here?” He pouts and shakes his head, pulling you closer to his face. “Hmm... here?”

You slide up closer, your legs over his shoulders now.

He hums as if considering it, his hands squeezing your ass as he arches his neck to press a gentle kiss to one of your thighs.

“Well I’ll admit, I like it. But I think I’d like you even closer.” He smiles when you pretend to act surprised, and he looks up at you through his lashes, Hazel eyes wide and innocent.

“What? You don’t want to be closer?” He lets his head flop back down against the pillows, sighing wistfully.

“Wouldn’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

 You hum in false consideration, burying your hands in his hair, your fingers locking into a few of his curls, tugging gently.

“I mean... I GUESS I can move a little closer…” You do just that, not giving him any warning before you settle your cunt right on his mouth, groaning at the friction.

“T-this close enough f-for you baby?”

He moans, the sound still loud even though it’s muffled by your cunt. His hands move to clutch at your hips, holding you down firmly so he can start licking over your folds. He’s eager and quick to find your clit, latching on and sucking on it while his tongue flicks against the little nub. You tasted so fucking sweet—he wanted more of it

The noise that escape your mouth at his ferocity and eagerness is borderline obscene.

“F-fuck Brian! Oh baby, y-you, FUCK!” You have to move one of your hands to the headboard to keep myself upright, your orgasm already fast approaching thanks to the sensitivity of your clit from your grinding earlier.

“C-cmon Bri, y-you can do b-better than that honey, e-eat me like you mean it.” You loved talking to Brian like this, it always made him go harder and be more intense.

Brian lets out a noise akin to a growl at your teasing words, his teeth brushing over your clit gently before he tugs you closer to him, his tongue pressing into you as deep as he can get it while his long nose nudges against your clit. He moves his head back and forth quickly, curls bouncing, one hand moving from your hip to slap your ass hard. He wants you to cum on his tongue; wants to have you soak his face; wants to taste you for hours.

You’re gasping for breath as he slaps your ass, both of your hands now clenching the headboard so hard that your knuckles were white. Brian’s nose bumps your clit as his tongue digs hard inside of you one final time before the dam breaks, and your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck. “B-Bri—o-oh my god!” His groans send vibrations through your clit and up your body, pulling whimpers from your mouth as you ride his face, riding your orgasm out as long as you can.

He makes a desperate sound, licking through your folds over and over again, taking everything you have to give him. His hands move your hips to help you ride it out, making you grind smoothly onto his face. He continues until your grip in his hair turns to pushing away, and only then does he pull away, heaving breaths in. Still, he doesn’t let you get far; pressed hot, sucking kisses over the tender skin of your pale inner thighs. He has his eyes shut, a dreamy sort of smile on his face. He loved eating you out; not only did he love pleasing you, but he always actually enjoyed it, too

You all but collapse against the headboard, your  hands gently holding onto his hair as you try and catch your breath.

“B-Bri, I-I.. fuck honey…” Chuckling lightly, you sit up and gaze down at him, a soft and pleased smile on your face. “Help me lie down please? I-I don’t think I can move my legs.”

Brian tosses his head back at your words, laughing joyfully

“Well then that’s a job well done on my part, yeah?” You tug his hair pointedly, and he hushes up, moving to help you lay down beside him. Once you’re all comfy, he curls up around you, on his side. He settles a large hand onto your stomach, splaying his fingers out. He swore if he focused hard enough he could feel your still racing pulse under your skin.

“Thank you for the head massage.”

Burying your face in his neck, you let out a bright laugh, shaking your head at his words. “I’m more than happy to give you a head massage every single day for the rest of time if you want.”

You press a kiss to his neck before sighing and burying yourseld further into the pillows, winding your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer so he can rest his head on your chest. It’s comforting, being this way with him, and it almost makes you forget the intensity of earlier.. but not completely.

“Ya know, we’re gonna have to talk about what happened earlier right? I think it’s safe to say that we’re not breaking up.. but, we do need to talk about everything…” As much as you don’t want to... but, you were adults and needed to communicate like them.

He tenses at your words, anxiety cutting through his stomach sharply. But he tries to ignore it; to breathe out long and slow and nod

“I know. I know we do.” He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry.”

You give him a squeeze, sighing along with him.

“I know honey, I know you are. And there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. You have valid feelings and reasons to be upset and worried.” Your voice is light, you weren’t scared anymore, you knew we would be and stay together… but, you still needed to talk

“You do still want to be with me right? I know that’s probably stupid to ask, but, I just want to make sure that you still want this.. to be with me, have a life with me.”

He’s quiet for a long time after your question, thinking about how to answer. It’s only when he feels you tensing up that he realizes he’s been silent much too long. He rubs his hand over your side, voice soft when he finally speaks, his stomach fluttering nervously

“Y/N, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. No matter how short of a time that will be,” He sighs, “That’s what’s so scary.”

Closing your eyes, you breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing completely against Brian’s body.

“I want to be with you for the rest of your life too Brian, and I-I know that might not be the most lengthy time.. but, it’s still time that we’ll have together, a chance to be with one another until we,” You release a shuddering breath, not wanting to imagine a future without Brian in it, but knowing that in the next decade or so… it could happen.

“But that’s in the future.. and, I could marry someone my age and them die the day after our wedding, or have them develop cancer 5 years into our marriage.. we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow Brian, Hell, I could die on my way to work in the morning... it’s not about how much time we have with someone, it’s about why we do with the time we have.”

He swallows hard, nodding once more.

“I know... I know, you’re right. It’s just... well, no one likes discussing their own mortality I suppose.” He sighs, reaching blindly for one of your hands to hold.

“I should have... have trusted your opinion. It’s not that I didn’t or don’t, I just... I want you to be happy and taken care of. And I’m always worried I won’t be able to—I know someday I won’t be here. And I just... I don’t know. It was stupid I suppose” He drops his head, laughing humorlessly. “If it was what you were feeling, it’s not stupid Brian.. you’re not stupid for being scared, or worrying about me.. it makes me feel loved and cared for, which is all I know you want for me.. I trust you, love you, and appreciate beyond belief the fact that you care so much about me and my well being, that you were willing to sacrifice your happiness...” You squeeze the hand resting on your stomach, wanting to provide him with just a small ounce of comfort.

“You’ve made me so happy just in the short time we’ve been together.. like, I swear to god Brian it feels like you’ve shoved 10 years of love and happiness into 4 months, and—god, I just—I love you so much..”

  He feels a little bit of relief at your words; that you weren’t still angry with him. Sure, maybe your “I hate you” still rang in his head, but he knew it would slowly fade if he gave it time. He brings your hand up to his lips to kiss it softly

“I love you, too, Y/N. More than anything.” His words are quiet and reverent, like a prayer.

You smile gently at him, leaning forward to drop a kiss to his forehead, still feeling absolutely horrific for what you’d said to him, he didn’t deserve that…

“Bri…” You choke back a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you.. y-you didn’t deserve to have me tell you I hate you, especially when I could never, EVER, hate you. You’ve given me nothing but love and understanding, care and affection... and I-I’ll spend the rest of time reconciling what I said to you…”

He nods, not wanting to think about it, but knowing he had to. “It’s alright, Y/N.”

His voice is still quiet; he doesn’t want you to be upset. He doesn’t want you to beat yourself up over it. He’d hurt you, and you’d said it, and it was all.... in a rush of emotions… something he definitely understood, and he couldn’t fault you for it.

“It’s okay, love.” He pulls away from you just a little, tugging at the covers “Let’s just go back to bed, yeah?”

You still feel like a shit girlfriend, but you know he doesn’t blame you, you know he isn’t holding it against you, and you’re 100% positive that he knows he didn’t mean it...

“Okay, yeah.. bed does sound good.” You allow him to cover you up with the blanket, snuggling up against him.

“Rog’s guest bed is comfortable, but the best bed in the world could feel like a goddamn bed of rocks when you’re not there with me.”

He laughs a little at your words, but then frowns.

“Oh, I should...” He sits up, but makes sure the covers stay tucked over you.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I need to call him. I sort of... yelled at him, earlier.” He barely remembers doing so, but he knows he did.

You try your best to stay awake while Brian calls Roger, but the emotional and physical drainage of the day wacks you in the goddamn face, and before you know what’s happening, you’re falling asleep to Brian’s sheepish voice on the phone with Roger. Brian returns to bed about 20 minutes later, after a rather irritated Roger had given him a dressing down that only his mother’s could rival. He appreciated what his best friend had done for you beyond measure, that he had taken you in and made sure you were safe… he could never repay him for that, and the drummer would never ask him to do so. Curled up in bed next to you, Brian falls asleep in no time, his heart finally healing from the gash that he had inflicted on himself earlier that day. He sleeps for a while, finally waking up around 11:30. So, about 5 hours. Not bad. He’s surprised when he finds you still asleep next to him, though I guess you’d been awake just as long as he had. He lays there for a little bit to wake up more before stretching and getting out of bed. He throws on a pair of underwear and a cozy robe and slippers, trying to keep quiet so not to wake you. Then he sneaks downstairs to the kitchen, digging in his fridge to find something to cook for breakfast, he just felt like he still had a lot of making up to do.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, tea to be more precise, being made. The smell brings a smile to your face and you roll over and stretch widely, groaning a bit. Grabbing your phone as you sit up, your eyes widen a tad when you see that’s it’s close to noon, and that you have approximately 1350 missed calls and texts from various members of the May and Taylor family. After taking a bit of time to respond to Emily, Jimmy, and Louisa, reassuring them that you and their father were completely fine, you put on a robe and my, well technically they were Brian’s, house shoes and head downstairs. Brian is stood in front of the stove, humming as he cooks, the sight brings a smile to my face as I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his middle “Mmmm what did I do to deserve this?”

He smiles when he hears you come in; relaxes back into your touch. He chuckles at your words.

“Hmm? Well, you deserve this every day just for existing.” He pauses, flipping over the pancakes he was cooking.

“But specifically? I think what I put you through last night is reason enough for a big, yummy breakfast.” He frowns, sighing, looking down at the pan.

“Although apparently my waffle maker is broken. I guess it’s about time. I think I’ve had that thing since the early 90’s, it’s probably a fire hazard.”

Your eyes widen dramatically and you smack his stomach.

“Brian! You’re an international rock legend, you have more money than the bloody queen, and you’ve been using the same waffle machine for 30 years?” You laugh loudly into his back, squeezing him tightly*

“Could you imagine the headline? Legendary Queen Guitarist and Astrophysics Legend Brian May burns down multimillion-dollar home in Waffle Machine electrical malfunction.”

 He grins, shaking his head, his curls brushing your face.

“Hey, it was a great waffle maker! Besides, they get better with age, I’ve been told. There’s more flavor.” You make a disapproving sound and he grins “Well, Anita and I did have a newer one, but she took it with her. It’s not like I needed it.”

You chuckle and give him one final squeeze, pulling your phone out of the pocket of my robe “YOU got better with age, WINE gets better with age, CHEESE gets better with age… Not waffle makers babe…” Opening up the Postmates app, you tease him while and ordering a waffle iron from Waitrose.

“There, got one on the way now, hopefully one that won’t set your house on fire and kill us all.” You reach up and peck his cheek, showing him the delivery notification.

He pouts when he sees the notification, but leans into your kiss.

“Well I’ll pay you back for that, I swear.” He turns back to the multiple pans on the stove.

“Could you get out some plates? And maybe some drinks? Mimosas sound good, if you’re up for it.”

“You will NOT pay me back for that! A £30 waffle iron pales in comparison to all of the things you’ve given me. Consider it a mutually beneficial gift.” You slap his ass and head to get the plates and cups out, moaning in appreciation of his suggestion for mimosas.

“God yes, mimosas sounds incredible, I’ll make a pitcher?” You shoot him a look of questioning, smiling when he nods. It doesn’t take long for you to run downstairs and get a bottle of Moët, aka the only champagne that Brian drank.. a little cliche but definitely something that made you smile. Bouncing up the stairs, you hyperventilate dramatically, leaning against the fridge

“Okay, with pulp or without?”

By the time you come back up, he’s starting to plate the food. He scoffs at your question. “In mimosas? No pulp please.” You grumble something about him being picky, which makes him laugh.

“Yes mum, I’ve always been picky. That’s what you get with me.” He carries the plates to the little dining area still within the kitchen, before going to get things like syrup and jam and butter.

You shake your head at him, pouring the orange juice into the pitcher, followed by some ice cubes, and the champagne, jumping when the cork pops.

“Ya know, I’m never gonna get used to that.” You mumble it to yourself, but Brian laughs and drops a kiss to your cheek when he passes.

“I guess I’m just going to have to get used to your pickie little ass then hmm? If I’m gonna deal with you for the rest of time, I should get used to the fact that you only like no pulp orange juice and chilled, but not cold, cheese...” You raise your eyebrows at him as you put the pitcher on the table before taking a seat beside him.

He pouts. “Cold cheese is too hard and dulls the flavor, but warm cheese is...” He shudders, before taking his glass from you. “Chilled is the happy medium.” Brian winks at you before sipping his drink. “Delicious. And I hope breakfast suits you. The pancakes have a little cardamom in them this time.”

You give him a look of disbelief, smiling before cutting one of the fluffy pancakes and sticking it in your mouth, groaning in pleasure at the taste.

“Jesus Christ Brian, these are amazing, thank you.” You lean over and peck his lips, mouth still full of pancake.

“I think you should hang up red and just become my personal chef...” You wriggle my eyebrows at him, taking a big bite, throwing your head back while moaning in pleasure, licking the fork.

He snorts. “I wouldn’t make much of a personal chef if all I can really make is breakfast food.” You give him a look and he grins.

“Alright, and noodles. Listen, I lived with three other men most of my life and two of them couldn’t even cook an egg. John was wildly talented in the kitchen, so I didn’t have to be anything special.” He takes a bite of his own, groaning a little.

“That IS good....”

“Told ya so.” You send him a wink, eating as fast as you could, going back for seconds within 10 minutes of sitting down.

“Don’t you dare say anything.. I’m a growing girl, and you made wayyyy too many pancakes for me to only have 3.” You pour some syrup on them, your tongue sticking out in concentration Brian grins and takes a bite of his own food. “I made more because I knew you’d eat them. Plus, who doesn’t love leftover pancakes.” He shrugs.

“I don’t have anything to do today, miraculously. If you don’t either, maybe we could just... have a day to ourselves?” It was rare that the two of you had that, even on the weekends. But the tour was on a little break, and Brian was trying to make the most of it.

“That sounds amazing Bri.” You smile over at him, taking another bite, happiness flooding your body just thinking about the possibilities of what the two of you could do with a whole day to yourselves.

“What do you wanna do? As long as I get to sit in your lap for a majority of the day, I don’t give a shit.” You loved, and I repeat, LOVED sitting in Brian’s lap.. it just.. made you feel safe and loved, plus it didn’t hurt that he usually ended up with a boner, and you usually ended up face down on the couch while he fucked you relentlessly.

He shifts in his seat at your words, smiling a little. Was he already horny just from those words? Yes. Listen, he might be an old man, but his cock still tried to be 20 years old…

“Well we can certainly do that, love. I was thinking of maybe watching a movie or something, and eating ourselves silly, and...” He sighs.

“Well maybe that sounds a bit boring. I just thought we could spend some time together. I miss you, when you’re gone.”

“ Aww, Bri…” You set your fork and knife down, scooting your chair back so you can climb over into his lap. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean  forward to press a series of kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

“I miss you too when you’re gone.. more than you know…” You sigh, remembering how sad you’d been when he’d gone off on the first leg of the tour, leaving you all alone in the big house.

“Wish there was some way I could come with you, the bed is just so empty and cold when you’re not here with me.”

 He looks up at you sharply, arching his brows at your words

“You—You’d want to come?” He honestly hasn’t thought so. Not because of anything you’d done, but just because you had your own life and career you loved, and touring was hectic. It was a hard life to live; always on the go, never any sleep, night after night. But it was his passion and he loved it. But again, he knew it wasn’t for everyone.

 You stammer a little at his words, slightly embarrassed. Sure you’d desperately wanted to go with him when he left on tour.. but, you’d never brought it up because you didn’t want to make him feel like he HAD to bring you.

“I-I mean, I’d like to.. but, I understand if you wouldn’t like that! You’ve been doing this for 50 years, and you probably have a set way of doing things, and I’d probably just get in the way.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head.

“I have 51 days of vacation from work, a-and I could always use that, but…” You chuckle, scratching his head. “I don’t wanna make you feel like you have to let me.”

 His breath leaves his chest in a big huff, hazel eyes wide “51 days of vacation?? How???” You shrug and he shakes his head.

“Okay, well, we’re definitely talking about that later, but...” He smiles up at you.

“Of course I’d want you on the road with me. You might get sick of it, but you could always go back home if that happens. I—I’d love it if you were there. And I know Rog and Adam would like you there too, and the crew won’t mind as long as you don’t sabotage anything.” He winks.

You breathe a sigh of relief, smiling before pressing your lips to Brian’s, tasting the maple of the syrup he’d just eaten.

“Well, I can’t promise that I won’t destroy the dressing room with you...” You bite his lip gently, smirking when you feel his cock thickening under your ass.

“But are you sure? I don’t want to be in the way or do anything that could cause people to be uncomfortable., it’s YOUR space, somewhere you’re most at ease in your element.”

 “It IS my space, and my world. But I’d like to show it to you and share it to you. I want to share everything with you…” He’s quiet, voice open and innocent.

“I’ve never been able to share it with someone I loved before. Chrissie never liked it, Anita already had her own stage... It’s something I love and I’m proud of and I enjoy, and I’d only love it more if you were there.” Though his words are conversational, he’s gently grinding his hips up into your ass, lids fluttering at the feeling.

Your eyes close at the feeling of him beneath you, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I-I would love to do that Bri.. it s-seems so fascinating and fast paced.. I-I think I would really like it.” You open your eyes, hands going into his hair, tugging his lips towards yours, groaning when his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

“Besides, I really wanna fuck you against an amp…it’s not fair how goddamn hot you look on that stage.”

He laughs, wrinkling up his nose a little.

“Fuck me against an amp? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.” He teases, cheeks flushed a little at the thought. He always got amped up after shows, his adrenaline pumping. The thought of fucking you after coming off stage, the crowd still roaring.... fuck, he wanted that.

Noticing the blush on his face and chest, you can’t help but smirk, leaning forward to lick a stripe from his Adam’s apple to his ear, loving the way he shuddered under you.

“No? Well... I guess I can just take care of myself backstage if you don’t want me to fuck you.”

You love teasing him more than should probably be allowed, the way he would stutter and blush, and sometimes just absolutely lose control and fuck you senseless… it was a nice game of roulette.

He clenches his jaw, growling a little

“No you won’t. You’ll wait for me to be done performing like a good little girl.” His hands move to your ass, squeezing gently.

“You’ll wait as long as it takes and you won’t touch yourself.” He hums softly, as if thinking.

“Sometimes I’ll practice beforehand in my dressing room. I’ll turn up the volume and let you ride the amp, if you’re that desperate.” Bingo.. that’s exactly what you had been hoping for.. God, you loved it when he was dirty and degrading with you.. usually he didn’t do this, he felt bad for it.. but fuck did you love it. Biting your lip, you start to grind yourself against his cock, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“But what if I don’t wanna be a good girl daddy? What if I wanna be a brat and make you mad? What if that’s what your baby girl wants?” You have to admit.. riding his amp.. feeling the vibrations from red.. god, it was unlike anything you’d ever imagined.

He slaps your ass, jaw clenching.

“Then you can have your own fucking fingers, and I won’t touch you.” He arches a brow at you. “That’s what you want, right? To get off whenever you want?”

A shocked gasp escapes your mouth at his smack, arousal folding your cunt. “N-no, wanna get off with you, wanna have you fuck me until I can’t walk anymore daddy...”

You clench your eyes shut when he smacks your ass again, a small whimper breaking free. “But I-I wanna be naughty too daddy, wanna be a brat.”

“Well naughty girls don’t get this fat cock.”

You whimper and he cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I’d fuck your throat. Use you, and then leave you be.” He sighs.

“Because no matter how bad you are, I suppose I can’t find someone else. And I’ve got to get off some way.” He says the words lightly, sighing as if put out, but he squeezes your hip gently, hoping to get across that it’s part of this game you’re playing. That he’d never dream of fucking someone else; never want to. You were it for him, and he knew that you knew that.

You’re genuinely surprised by his words and how insanely hot they’re making you.

“No, daddy, no I’ll be good for you, I promise, d-don’t want you going to find someone else, o-only want you to use me as a cum dumpster daddy.” You whimper loudly, grinding harder, loving the way his robe was rubbing you.

“Only want you to use me to fill up with your cum.. p-please daddy I’ll be good for you, I’ll take every drop.”

He is absolutely breathless, your words making him feel hot all over.

“Jesus, Y/N…” He swallows hard, moaning a little as your roll your hips against his.

“Well you’re not being very good right now, are you? Grinding against me right here in the kitchen. Naughty little thing.”

You bite your lip, hands tightening in his hair.

“I-I’m sorry daddy, I’ll be good, b-but your c-cock is just so fucking addicting, and I n-need you!” You halt your grinding even though you know you’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

“W-will you pl-please fuck me daddy? P-pretty p-please? I’ll be so good for you, I-I promise.”

He arches a brow, leaning back in his chair.

“Get off my lap.” His voice is more even than he thought it would be, and he’s thankful for it. You don’t move and he smacks your ass, voice hardening. “I said, get off my lap, Y/N.”

You know that your eyes are probably as wide as saucers, your breath catching in your throat at his harshness, but, you do as he asks, stumbling off of his lap, falling to the ground in your haste to move.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to make you mad... I’ll be good I p-promise.” You scramble to get up, only wanting to do whatever you can to please him, to make him know that you would be good.

Brian swallows hard, his head a little dizzy from how much blood was rushing to his cock. Jesus, he was so turned on it wasn’t even funny. And you hadn’t said no, or safeworded out. You were a dream. He scoots his chair back from the table before gesturing to the empty spot in front of him. “Take off your robe and bend over the table. Legs spread.”

You quickly do exactly what he says, shakily taking off your robe and throwing it on the chair you’d previously vacated, leaving you stark naked in front of him. You’re surprised that your legs are actually working, and you stumble your way to the table, bending over exactly as he’d requested, your naked cunt and ass on full display.

“N-now what daddy?” You were so eager to please him, and GOD was this a stark contrast to last night’s events. But that’s what you loved about your relationship with Brian... it was never the same thing, always evolving and always changing.

 He bites his lip, hands coming up to palm your ass before spanking it, watching it jiggle.

“Fuck you look so good like this, honey.” He tugs his robe open, leaning back in his chair and starting to play with his cock.

“What do you want, baby girl?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so goddamn turned on in your ENTIRE life, the way he was treating you, how rough and dominant he was being? You’d never seen this side of Brian and you were praying to god you never had to go without it ever again.

“W-want you to be rough with me daddy, want y-you to fuck me until I can’t w-walk and c-cum inside of me please” You whimper when he spanks you again, your cunt leaking heavily. “Want you t-to fill me up, I NEED your cum d-dripping out of me please daddy, I’ll do a-anything.” You knew that you should be embarrassed by your begging and desperation.. but you weren’t, not even close.

“God, you’re a whore.” His words are harsh, but his tone is impossibly fond. He sighs, moving his fingers to your dripping cunt, rubbing through your folds.

“You’re absolutely soaked.” He pulls his fingers away before giving your cunt a gentle slap, but a slap nonetheless, much like the slap you’d delivered to his balls the night before.

“O-oh! G-god—daddy please, need your cock!” Your head is firmly placed on the table, hands grasping the corner of the wood as hard as you can without hurting myself.

You had never been so desperate before, usually you were a champion for as much foreplay as humanly possible, but for some reason his attitude and words were just causing you to have a fucking aneurysm.

“Fuck me l-like the dirty little fucking w-whore I am daddy, need y-you to breed me and teach me a goddamn lesson!”

“Breed you?” His voice cracks a little, and he stands, palming your ass, spreading it and your cunt open,

“Want me to fuck a baby into you?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying it, especially when he knows he more than likely can’t do that.

“I’ll bring you on tour with me just to fuck you full of cum every night.” His voice is hoarse as he steps closer, his cock brushing your thigh.

Your noises are pathetic, desperate and wanton.. the kitchen sounds more like a bordello at this point.

“Y-yes Brian, p-please fuck a baby in me daddy, wanna be so full of your cum, and t-then full with y-your baby!” The two of you hadn’t exactly discussed this aspect of your relationship but... you wouldn’t complain if it happened.

“I-is that a promise daddy? You promise to fuck me hard as full every night before and after? I wanna b-be dripping with your cum w-while you’re on stage p-performing for thousands.. me-meanwhile I’m backstage, your cum running d-down my leg...” You press your ass into him, wiggling a little, just trying to get some relief.

He just pushes your legs further apart, making you rest completely against the table. He slips a hand up to your shoulders, pressing against you while his other hand wraps around his cock. He strokes the head up and down your folds, shuddering a little at the feeling.

“Only if you’re good for me, baby girl. You can have all the cum you want as long as you’re good.” He murmurs, teasing at your entrance.

You shudder completely at his words, at the tone of his voice, how his hand feels splayed completely across your back, the way his breath is hot on your neck.

“I-I’ll be good! I-i promise daddy, I’ll be s-so good for you.” You’re near tears at this point, just so incredibly desperate for his cock to be inside you that you can’t control your emotions anymore.

“P-please n-need to feel your cum s-seeping out of me daddy, please, n-need your baby inside of me...”

He can’t take it anymore—shoves himself inside you with one quick stroke and doesn’t let up, not letting you adjust. He just holds you down on the table, one hand on your neck, the other gripping your ass, slapping it every now and then as he absolutely rails you. He doesn’t know where his energy is coming from, but he’s fucking you hard, as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck, your greedy little cunt is taking me so good. You’re such a fucking slut—"

The little scream you let out at his ferocity and sudden intrusion would be enough to garner attention from neighbors if it hadn’t been lunch time on a Thursday. Clenching tightly around his cock, your hands grip the table like it’s the only thing on earth that can keep you from disappearing into the atmosphere. “F-fuck—daddy, y-you’re s-so f-fucking big!” You somehow manage to hitch out the words, your face firmly smashed against the overly expensive wood of the table. Our breakfast was still lying right beside you while Brian went to town on your cunt. He’d never been this hard and rough, but you wanted more.

“C-cmon daddy, y-you can do b-better than that! F-fuck you’re little g-girl’s cunt like you m-mean it!”

 He slaps your ass again, thrusting somehow harder, putting his whole weight into it, grinding a little into you each time. “You’ll fucking take what I give you.” He growls, his hand moving from your neck to your hair, tugging on it, making you arch your back a little.

“Wish I could tie you up all day—leave you open and wanting for me. I can just use you whenever I want. Make a mess of you.” The noises filling the kitchen are obscene, his hips crushing against your ass, going so hard that his balls are swinging to slap against your clit.

 You’re already so close, his cock was pressing deliciously into your g-spot, his balls slapping your clit at a speed and harshness that was sending you closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

“W-want that so much d-daddy, wanna h-have you u-use me whenever you w-want!” You’re trying your best to push away your orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet, and knowing that he probably wouldn’t let you, you had to be good for him, had to do what he wanted…

“D-daddy, I-I’m so close c-can I c-cum all over your cock? P-please daddy?”

 Brian hauls you up a little by your hair, just to let his hand slip over your throat, holding you there, making you balance yourself at an angle where all your weight is essentially onto his cock. Still, he pounds into you, eyes sweeping over the scene you make in front of him.

“You wanna cum already? What a little whore you are.” He makes a disappointed sigh, tutting at you.

“Fine. Cum if you need to. But I’m not stopping.”

The new angle somehow sends him deeper into your cunt that he’s ever been before, his tip prodding your cervix.

“C-cumming for you d-daddy—" You gasp out, his hand closing a little tighter on your throat as you do so, your head leaning back to rest on his shoulder as your orgasm hits you, the intensity of it causing you to genuinely feel like you’re passing out, and you genuinely think you blackout for second.

He curses up a storm as you cum, but doesn’t let up his thrusting. He just plunges himself over and over into you, biting at your neck and shoulder as he lets out strangled moans. He holds you up against him, one hand on your neck, the other on your hip “There’s my naughty girl—just can’t fucking help yourself, can you? God, I can feel you dripping down my balls, even. You’re so dirty.”

 His incessant pounding brings you back to earth, your overly sensitive cunt clenching around his cock again and again.

“I-it’s all for you daddy, m-my cum I-is all yours!” You reach behind you, grasping onto Brian’s neck to try and hold yourself up a little. You can feel his cock grinding and bumping your cervix with every thrust, the noises bouncing off of the overly large kitchen making your cunt tingle even more. You were faster approaching another orgasm, and you knew he was close too, but you didn’t want this to end.

His hands moves from your hip to your clit, rubbing the slick little nub quickly. You gasp and try to arch away from the touch, oversensitive, but you’re literally impaled on his cock. You can’t really move, and he knows it

“Fucking take it, Y/N. You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna cum again, and maybe then—maybe then I’ll give you want you want.” God, he was so close, his balls tight against his body. It was taking all he had to hang on.

“Y-yes sir, I-I’m g-gonna—" You cut yourself off with a scream, cunt spasming, ejaculation shooting from your pussy, covering Brian’s cock, his thighs, god y-you’d just fucking squirted all over him, in the KITCHEN. It was just as intense as the first orgasm, probably because of how insanely sensitive you already were, your cunt holding his cock hostage inside, your walls tightening around him, the only thing keeping you standing being his arms which were tight around your neck and stomach.

“Oh, fuck—yes, there’s a good girl.” He growls out, eyes rolling back in his head as you squirt all over him, drenching his cock. It’s what he’d wanted; what he knew he could get you to do if he tried had enough. You’d done it once before, completely on accident, and you’d been completely embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. But to him? God, it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt. And to feel it around his cock? Well needless to say, he was cumming pretty quickly soon after, still pressed right up against your cervix, coating your insides as his balls pulsed. He moans into your neck, legs trembling, but managing to keep you both upright.

“T-there ya go d-daddy, o-oh my god, f-fuck daddy, f-fill me up!” You gasp and whimper as his cum shoots into you, the warm and strange feeling coursing through your abdomen, filling you completely. God, he’d cum inside of you before, but never this much, he had NEVER cum this hard before...

“G-gonna give me a baby aren’t you Bri? Oh yes baby, god—you’re gonna fuck me full until I’m pregnant baby, fuck!” If it happened, it happened, and I wasn’t going to complain, certainly not if it happened from THIS.

 He just lets out an undignified whimper, hips still rutting into you. He can feel his legs around to give out, so he falls back clumsily into the chair, taking you with him. He lets you rest your head back against his neck as he pulls your legs open, spreading you out. God, if anyone were to walk in right now, you’d be on full display. He groans at the thought, his cock twitching again inside you. He’d never thought about sharing you before—why was he in such a mood today? He sneaks a hand down, fingertips toying with your slick clit, humming when you whimper.

The whimper is weak and barely audible to you, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder, your mouth wide, cunt aching in the best possible way.

“G-god B-Bri I-I’m s-so sensitive...” You didn’t want him to stop necessarily, I mean, his cock was still hard and twitching inside of you... that had NEVER happened and he was.. he was so fucking hard and horny today, and you had no idea what was causing it, but you started to grind against his cock, riding him,.

He coos to you, shushing you softly.

“I know, baby girl. Do you want me to stop?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder gently, just using his thumb to rub up and down on your clit, breath hitching as it makes you squeeze around his cock. He knew he’d slowly be softening, though this was the longest he’d stayed hard in a long time.

You shake your head frantically, whimpering as his fingers continue rubbing you “N-no! G-god no Bri, w-wanna cum on your cock again, w-wanna keep y-you hard a-as long as I c-can!” You knew that he was usually so self-conscious about his ability to stay hard, so you just wanted to make him feel better about himself. You also just wanted to see how many times he could make you cum.

He shudders, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“You’re such a greedy girl.” He murmurs. He’s rubbing your clit quickly, but trying to keep his touch light. He wants to make you feel good, not hurt.

“You’re so good for me, Y/N, love. You’re such a good girl.” He moans, feeling you squirm and flutter around his cock. “You feel so good.”

Your cunt is clenching and quivering around his cock, his fingers softly grazing your clit, and thanks to your previous 2 orgasms, that’s all it takes for your third orgasm to wrack your body, sending you clenching hard around his cock, your hands clutching into the back of his head, your hips moving involuntarily on him.

“I-I l-love you so much Bri, o-oh fuck honey! Y-you’re so good to me!” This orgasm isn’t as intense as the first 2, but to be honest you weren’t sure anything could ever compare to those.

He moans, gasping for air as you flutter around his softening cock, squeezing some of his cum out of you. It drips dirty down his thighs and balls, and he curses.

“F-fuck, babygirl—I love you too, so much— Such a good girl, honey. There you go. It’s alright.” He rubs your stomach gently.

His words and actions are so soft and gentle, causing a small smile to pull at your features.

“Jesus Christ Bri, w-what’s gotten into you honey? That was insane…”

You giggle, turning your head so you can place a sloppy kiss to his stubbly cheek, hand running over the other side of his face. “Amazing and incredible... but insane.”

Brian blushes, leaning down to press a million little kisses over your skin.

“I’m sorry, honey. I... I don’t Know, really. We were just talking and it.... escalated.” He snorts at his own description of what had just happened.

“Are you alright? Let’s get you up and get you clean. I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You chuckle and shake your head, squeezing his thigh.

“I’m fine honey, god, I’m more than fine. I liked it, SO much.” You’re still trying to catch your breath, his hand on your stomach. The touch is making you think about the words you’d exchanged, the implications of what you’d just done.. the evidence of which was running out of your cunt.

“Bri... I meant what I said earlier..about you…” You clear your throat, a little embarrassed. “About you fucking a baby in me...”

 His breath catches, fingers splaying out over your stomach. His heart sinks a little, and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I... I wish I could give that to you.” He’s quiet, voice a little sad.

“I just don’t know that’s possible for me, anyone.” He hides his face into your neck, trying to apologize.

Your own heart sinks a little as well, not at the implications of his words, but at the fact that he felt so guilty about it, the fact that he might not be able to give you a baby.

“Hey, Bri, honey…” You turn around in the chair, his soft cock falling free, a combination of your cum flowing freely from your cunt now. Brushing your hand over his face, you trace your thumb under his eye where a single tear has fallen. “It’s okay.. I-I don’t need anything else but you… if a baby happens, that’s great, but if not, I’m perfectly content with just having and loving you.”

 He sniffles, nodding quickly, embarrassed that he was crying. He hugs you tight, arching up to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“ know... I know, I just... I wish...” He swallows hard.

“I wish we could. I wish I were younger.” He murmurs. It’s all dreams and nonsense, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing.

You give him a gentle smile, leaning in to kiss him. “I don’t…” He gives me a look, eyebrows raised in disbelief. You laugh, kissing him a few hundred times.

“I’m serious Brian, we met right when we needed to.. if you’d met me 20 or so years ago we never would’ve worked, mainly because I was a baby...” You try to be funny, giggling at your own joke.

“And that would’ve been a little bit more intense in the media than us today, if you can believe that.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He pokes your side, shaking his head. He sighs, looking up at you.

“Maybe we wouldn’t have worked out. But maybe we would have. Maybe we would’ve been good. Maybe you would’ve... kept me good.” His eyes are a little watery, his insecurities showing through.

“Oh honey.” You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him close, allowing his head to rest on your neck.

“You are good Bri, yeah you’ve made some mistakes in your past, and you’ve done something’s that were less than okay…” He sniffles, making your arms tighten.

“But they made you who you are today, they made you the Brian that I love more than anyone else in the world.. without the mistakes you made, you wouldn’t have learned from them, and you probably wouldn’t be able to cherish and love me the way you do...”

He nods, listening to you for once, just holding you tightly. He was always... overly conscious of his mistakes. His past self and past behavior. He missed being younger, especially with you. He wanted to do so much more than he could with his old body. But then again, he’s sure his younger self would have done something unforgivable. He was stupid. He still was; last night had proved that, but he thought it was a little better.

“I love you…”

You pull him back enough to place a kiss to his forehead, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too silly, so much.” His hands are running up and down your sides, his lips pressing into your neck. You felt so loved and safe, almost like everything that happened last night was just a dream, a bad dream, but only a dream. With Brian, you felt like a better person, which you guess was the best thing to say, because when you’re with someone you love, you’re supposed to feel like a better person… He brought out the best side of you possible, and you were beyond lucky and blessed to have him in your life, holding you in the kitchen of your London flat, the breakfast he’d made you turning cold. Breakfast that he’d fucked you  within an inch of your life next to.

“I just can’t believe you made me squirt in the kitchen Brian.. sounds like a song from fucking Aerosmith…” You chuckle brightly, kissing his nose.

Brian laughs loudly, his head thrown back against the chair.

“If Freddie’d had his way, it could’ve sounded like one of our songs. But even Roger veto’d some of the dirtier ones.” He sighs, stretching his legs a little.

“I’m actually quite proud of myself for the mess. But I’ll clean it up. Do you want to get into a bath?” He squeezes your hips, smiling up at you.

You moan at the thought of a bath, the wetness between your thighs starting to get a little nasty. “You should be very proud of yourself, maybe you can make me do that once a week from now on.”

You wriggle your eyebrows, smirking when he blushes before leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss, getting up off of his lap with shaky legs, you actually greatly resemble a baby deer.

“A bath sounds great by the way, I feel like a French whore at the moment, so some lavender bath salts would really do the trick.”

He can’t help but laugh at your unsteady gait, but quickly masks his smile when you give him a glare. He stands, walking over to put an arm around your waist and lead you up the stairs.

“Well, I’ll make you a lovely lavender bath, and while you’re doing that, I’ll clean everything up downstairs. Maybe I’ll make us some tea, too. How’s that sound?”

 You give him a pleasure filled smile, cupping his face before placing a sound kiss to his lips.

“It sounds like you’re making me the most spoiled and loved woman in the whole of London.” You giggle when he starts kissing your neck, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he dips you. “Brian! Your scruff is gonna give me beard burn.” You’re laughing hard, my heart lighter than its felt in years.

“Love, I hate to break the news to you, but I think you probably already have beard burn—everywhere.” He chuckles, kissing you once more before heading for the bathtub, busying himself with making you the nicest bath in the entire world. He had a plethora of different bath salts and bath bombs, etc, and he wanted to make everything perfect for you.

You sit on the counter, on a towel of course, watching Brian get the tub ready, feeling beyond happy and at ease. After a while he claps his hands together and helps me down, helping me into the tub.

“Godddddd, you always get these so perfect honey…” You sink into the water, allowing the smells of lavender and oranges to sooth you, the warmth of the water making your sore legs and pussy relax and feel 100x better.

“Please hurry your cleaning so you can come keep me company...” You pout at him, your eyes big and innocent. He laughs, and leans forward to give you a quick kiss, his hand threading through your hair. “I’ll try my best.”

He moves to clean himself up as well, watching you in the mirror, smiling widely when he sees your head drooping to the side. Shaking his head, he bends down beside you, bathing you while you sleep, your mouth open just a tad. Once he’s bathed you, he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead and grabs a bath pillow from the cabinet, for once incredibly excited that you had such an obsession with bath gadgets. Propping your head up, and once he’s satisfied that you wouldn’t drown, he stands, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees, before heading to the door. Brian spares you another look, smiling fondly… Sure, things were tough, it wasn’t going to be an easy go of things… but he didn’t care. Last night, the earth shattering pain he’d felt when you ran out, it only confirmed to him that he couldn’t live without you, and he knew you wouldn’t let him.

tags: @meddows-taylors @toomuchlove-willkillyou @brianmayoucease @leah-halliwell92 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @mariekuuuuuh @unofficialbillnye @stephydearestxo @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @danamaleksworld @dereones98 @glasgowkisschelseasmile @awkwardangelshezza @bellamy1998 @psychosupernatural @warren-lauren @womanwithahotdogstand @oujiacallme @harrisunn @anotheronebitesthedeaks @stormtrprinstilettos @get-on-your-bikes-and-ride @amor-libre @marymaia00 @ellywritesfics @simonedk @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @sam-mercury-sixx @horrorsinwonderland @toomuchtellyneck @asgardianvamp21 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @marvelstuck @softboydeacon @a-queen-on-her-throne @roger-bang-the-drum @frannyxc @mrsmazzellotaylor @reedusteinrambles @drowseoftaylor @doubledeaky @indieblair @freddiedearfriend @subbysharkbabe

#if ya wanna be tagged in my things just lemme know! #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may headcanon #brian may oneshot #brian may #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen headcanon #present day brian may #present day brian may x reader #current day brian may #2019 brian may #brian may fanfiction #brian may fic #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #classic rock fandom #my writing

[jjonesin4]

Songfic Writing Challenge

Day 29: A song you remember from your childhood

Knock Three Times, Tony Orlando & Dawn

This is from the soundtrack of the iconic 1995 coming-of-age film, Now & Then. I think I still have the old VHS tape with the cardboard cover tattered from overuse. I can clearly picture the girls riding their bikes up the street singing along to this song and using their bike bells as the knocks. It was peak girl squad energy. 

Also, Teeny had a RADIO on her BIKE! That was the dream.

It has been one month since Jughead Jones first stepped foot in the prestigious halls of Stonewall Preparatory. He appreciates the writing scholarship and knows that it’s an amazing opportunity. That being said, he desperately misses his freedom.

There are so many rules at Stonewall. No fighting. No swearing. No eating in class. No leaving campus. No cell phones. There’s a dress code, a behavior code, and an ethics code. Jughead wears his beanie with the crown edges in his room as a small form of rebellion. It eases his homesickness and keeps him grounded to his Southside roots.

As an insomniac, the curfew has been the most difficult adjustment. His roommate is a deep sleeper and goes to bed promptly at 10 PM, which allows Jughead his much appreciated privacy, but also leaves him basically alone in a very quiet room. 

Instead of sleepless nights typing away on his ancient laptop in the back booth at Pop’s, he is confined to his dorm room desk with the Stonewall Prep-issued Macbook. All social media and streaming services are blocked on the school network.

He thought the silence was going to kill him the first night. That was until about midnight when he heard the muffled sound of what had to be contraband music coming from the room below him through the vent by his desk.

The next day he did a little reconnaissance to find out more details on the person bold enough to play outlawed music openly after lights out. This was the kind of person he wanted to befriend. He walked down the stairwell and turned left down the hallway instead of proceeding down the stairs to the main level that contains the dining hall and other co-ed spaces. He counted three doors on his right-hand side to find the room below his.

The name on the door read “Elizabeth Cooper.” He made a mental note to look her up in the yearbooks that could inevitably be found in the library later that day and made his way downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before his first class.  

Jughead jogged into the classroom as he shoved the last of a banana in his mouth. He almost choked on the mushy fruit when he saw unquestionably the most gorgeous girl to ever exist seated in the front row.

She had on the same uniform as all of the other girls, but fuck did it work for her. The navy sweater hugged her in all the right places. The plaid skirt rode up to her mid thigh.  Her long legs clad in knee socks were crossed at the ankles. How did she make saddle shoes look that hot?

Jughead had to all but pinch himself to make his way into the classroom and snag the empty seat directly behind this preppy goddess just as the teacher started calling attendance.

“Cooper, Elizabeth.”

“Present,” she said in the prettiest voice Jughead has ever heard.

“Jones, Forsythe.”

Jughead was so distracted that THIS was the girl that lived right below him (slept below him, at times was naked below him) that he missed his name being called.

“Once more,” the agitated English teacher said, “Jones, Forsythe!”

“Uh, oh...present,” Jughead stuttered.

That was a month ago. It’s been a whole month of observing Elizabeth Cooper and Jughead can confidently say that he is in love. Unfortunately, every attempt to get her alone has failed. There are always people around her! She is never left alone for a second in class, the library, the dining hall, or the student lounge.

The only part of her Jughead can claim as his is the music that hums through his vents every night. It’s inspiring. Every night he imagines how her swaying body would feel under his grip as he writes until almost dawn.

This morning as Jughead walks to his first class he thinks of all of the things he has learned about his muse.

She goes by Betty and always wears her bouncy waves in a neat ponytail. He has to actively stop himself from curling his fingers in her hair when she leans back and the ends temptingly swish in front of him.

She smells like strawberries and sunshine, if sunshine had a smell.

Her big, green eyes are extremely expressive. They can convey a wide range of emotions and he wants to catalogue each look. He physically aches with the desire to know what every flash in her eyes, every scrunch of her nose, every curve of her perfectly pink lips, every blush of that wonderfully smooth skin means.

Physical beauty aside, Betty is the most genuinely kind person he has ever encountered. She is also whip smart, an astonishing writer, and darkly humorous. He adores her and needs to do something before his pining loses him a scholarship.

Jughead has daydreamed his way to class and finds his seat.

Not for the first time, his mind starts to race along with his heart as he sits behind Betty Cooper in their Modern Lit class.

How did romance exist before cell phones? He can’t ask for her number under the guise of needing assistance on an assignment and then build up a texting relationship. He can’t look through what he knows are heartbreakingly beautiful photos on her Instagram and slide into her DMs. He can’t even call her! Even his great grandfather had access to a phone! What is he going to do? Write her?

He could write her!

But then what? Her roommate would certainly see anything shoved under the door. It would be way too risky to pass a note in class or even in the halls. Then it hits him. It’s perfect!

Well, not perfect, but it might work.

Before Jughead can talk himself out of it, he sets his desperate plan into motion as the class is dismissed and the students shuffle up to the door. He manages to elbow his way past Brett to get behind Betty.

“Look out your window tonight at midnight,” Jughead says quietly in Betty’s ear. He may be imagining things, but he thinks he sees a shiver run down her spine. With that he wills himself to walk past her before he does something stupid like smell her golden hair or touch the porcelain skin of her face.

For once Jughead isn’t hungry. He can’t stomach the thought of dinner, so he retires to his room while his classmates eat and socialize. There, at his desk, the one right above Betty Cooper’s desk, he composes his seemingly hopeless attempt to meet her alone. The note reads:

I realize that you don’t even know me, but I hear you dancing alone every night. I hear the music playing one floor below me and I don’t feel so alone.

I listen to your responses and read your exquisite words in class and I feel more and more compelled to get to know you.

I want to talk to you away from the ubiquitous presence of our classmates and faculty.

Knock three times on the ceiling if you’ll meet me in your hallway.

Twice on the pipes if the answer is no.

This may seem like a crazy plan, but this is the most private means of communication I can think of without the luxury of our phones.

At 11:59 that night Jughead gently lowers an envelope tied to a string down to Betty’s window. He lets out an audible breath when he feels a tug on the other end of the string. He looks down to see Betty’s elegant hand gently take the note inside her window.

His heart is racing. What if this is a terrible idea? What if she doesn’t want him?

Jughead’s nervous pacing and spiring self doubt is interrupted by a soft thud below him. His eyes go wide and as he holds his breath ready to count for her response.

Knock

Knock

Knock

#songfic writing challenge 2019 #bughead #bughead fanfiction #jughead jones #betty cooper #stonewall prep au #day 29 #a song you remember from your childhood #knock three times #tony orlando & dawn #now and then #that soundtrack is all bangers #pining jughead #no phone who dis

[har-rison-s]

heaven: 17

never let her go

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Well hell to the low to you guys! I've missed being on here, and I'm so fucking glad that I'm back to writing and I actually have nothing else to do, really, except write. Oh, and fight for justice online, get to packing and moving and go to work. But other than that, I'm free as of right now. I came back to the document for this fic, and turns out I have material enough to post 2 whole chapters in a row. So, let's go. I'm glad you're all still here and I welcome every new-comer with hugs and kisses! So, happy quarantine reading and stay safe! Don't you ever forget - #BlackLivesMatter!

A/N: Also, quick note: if you're uncomfortable with me posting another chapter of Heaven or posting any writings at all, please don't hesitate to let me know. Writing, especially during times like these, and when I don't get any positive income from the real world or social media, writing is what helps me, and I think reading fics means you dive into another world, sometimes a better world, and you can live another life in them and feel better; I also know writing has helped some people fall asleep. That's why I'm posting. Again, if that makes you uncomfortable/you think I'm injust with posting, please let me know!

warnings: shorter than usual, water, over-thinking (lots)

word count: 2.2k

main masterlist

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

previous part  next part

A/N: Where are my more gifs and pics of Andy Bean rights huh??

gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

Oh, is clean water good. Clean, warm, soapy water. Better than sex, she even dares to think. She smiles to herself at the thought. Stanley looks at her, a soft question in his eyes. Not the sex she has with him. She shakes her head, and then rests it against his wet chest. The shower’s water streams down onto them, warm and welcoming, warm and soothing, warm and healing. It collects their hair into dark, thick locks. The shower’s floor shines with water that is now filthy from all the dirt on their bodies. 

Bill collected all their dirty clothing and went to wash it in the hotel’s washing machines. He’d get to shower the last, but he didn’t mind. All of them using water at once wouldn’t be useful, either, but that he’ll leave it to their concern. Mike offered to use his washing machine at the Library, but since he lives quite far from the Derry Inn, they all decided to pass this suggestion.

Y/N’s palms are flat against Stanley’s bare back. It’s littered with birthmarks all over, Y/N discovers when she feels small, almost unnoticeable bumps under her fingers. Stanley, instead, opens the shampoo bottle the hotel offers and squeezes half of it out into his hand. He then runs his shampoo-y hands into Y/N’s hair, against her scalp. She hums. Stanley moves the shampoo into her hair, massaging circles into her scalp. She smiles softly at the gesture.

He does the same to his own hair, and Y/N chuckles at how weird he looks with his hair slicked back. “Reminds me of your Bar Mitzvah hair.” She says and Stanley gives her an airy chuckle in response. He remembers his mom’s effort and frustration into gelling his unbending acorn curls down neatly to his head.

“That was horrible.”

“No, no, that was a statement.” She corrects him and they both laugh. Her arms around him, hands on his back and his arms around her waist, hands interlocked to keep her intact in his embrace, they look up dreamily at each other. The water frustrates their eyes a small bit, making them blink more than usual.

Gazing into each other’s eyes transmits more emotions between them than they could muster to say in the same amount of time. Words really are hard to find to say all that Stanley could say to Y/N, about how much she means to him, about how he can’t breathe without her, how he needs her, how he wants to cherish her and love her for the rest of his life, and how he wishes they never parted. He also wants to say a big thank you for giving his strength, courage and self-belief back simply by talking, by being with him. He could not have gotten into this shower-bathtub, for example, without her help, without her words. Let alone Derry or Neibolt House.

Y/N would like to tell Stanley how grateful she is for his love, and that it is he who loves her. She would want to let him know that he’s the most important person in her life, that he means the most to her, and that she’d do anything to turn back time and relive her—their both’s—life differently, together. Happy.

How happy, how much more happier they’d be if things had turned out differently. And she wants to tell him how grateful she is for him to be here, right now, as well as tell him how privileged she is to love him, and to have him love her back, how privileged it is to hold his hand and look into his eyes.

But to not waste any emotional and physical material, they suffice with a simple—

“I love you.” She tells him in a quiet whisper. It almost drowns with the water in the dark drain of the sewer pipes. She leans up to kiss his lips. She can taste the coffee he drank earlier still, and the water. She smiles, and she kisses him again. And again. She chases his lips with hers, her hands pushing against him slowly, not at once, but slowly, begging. She kisses him, and she almost melts.

Stanley moves her rogue hair strands out of her face, and holds her cheek while looking into her eyes. His orbs move back and forth only the slightest. A corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “I love you.” He assures her and kisses her again. He then kisses her forehead and pulls her into an embrace against his chest. Even his chest hairs have flattened down from the water, she can barely feel them against her cheek. She closes her eyes, and so does Stanley.

Something about the way he holds her, something about the way he shuts his eyes when he does. Thoughts of what is to come creep into his mind now, despite how badly he wants them not to. What if this is the last time I have her to myself? Selfish to think of her like that, but… She’s the most beautiful angel I’ve met in my life. I want to spend my entire life with her, I want to give her what I did not for the twenty years spent apart. What if, when I go back home, my mind will be changed about her? What if we’ll forget each other again, like last time?

But what if you don’t go home, Stanley? Maybe go to her home, or go home with her. Not your home, but one that would belong to you both. And Patty? What of her? Do I not call her or visit her? Do I just leave her in the dark? I can’t do that to her. After all we’ve been through, after loving one another for so long… After being married, and happily at that, after her trusting me so much…

Do you still love Patty as you did before Mike called you? As you did when she helped you pack clothes and essentials for this trip? How will you tell her you’ve met the love of your life, the love of your childhood again and made love to her in another city, another state? Another place, or void, completely foreign and strange to Patty and her whole life, and how she knows life in general? It will break her. Would it be better if you didn’t tell her at all? No, no, I can’t leave her wondering in the dark.

What if you love them both? What do you do then? Marry Y/N and live together as three married people? That’s complete craziness, Stanley. You can’t do that. But if I can’t choose… If I can’t choose between the two women I love most, what do I do then? Leave them both and live alone? Or should I choose? Which option would be better for everyone involved? Do I choose to be selfish and choose Y/N or Patty for the rest of my life? That’s only fair to me, and I can’t stand by that. But…

Stanley can’t live without Y/N. Maybe it’s just what he thinks now because he’s met her again, but then again—there wouldn’t be these feelings if there wasn’t an old cause for them, old roots grow out of something, not nothing. And they do have roots. Childhood. High school. Before college. The first year of college. Then it faded away… But these feelings are still here, they’re still real, present and true. They’re as intense as before, if not more. It is beyond love and belonging and craving, it is far more than they as mortal humans can understand, can know that they feel. He can only give her the tip of the iceberg that is his whole love, emotions and feelings for him. He can only do so much with his human mind and body.

But Patty… He loves Patty so much. They’ve been married for more than ten years, and found solace in each other. They loved each other even when they could not get children, they loved each other when they’ve woken up to a sour day, they loved each other even when they drive each other nuts (which is rare in their earthly, calm marriage). What fun have they had in these happy, peaceful years… Stanley would not trade it for the world. Ah, then and there, maybe. But here and now...

He doesn’t know. He can’t decide.

But somehow… The marriage ring that lays in the drawer of this hotel room’s nightstand, it feels like an anchor. And it feels old, as well, as strange as it sounds. Old, as if Stanley had lived in a past life with that ring and the person who carries the other ring, the rigs a promise to be man and wife until death do them part.

But it’s not death that will do them part. The happy, peaceful years he lived with Patty were simply years and time that fed on forgetfulness of crucial things such as childhood, and friends, and dreams that little kid Stanley Uris wanted to achieve in life. They were years of tunnel vision, of ignorance, but not his own. His self-consciousness’ ignorance caused by the magical curse IT laid upon Stanley and his friends once they left the town of Derry.

It’s best to think about it on the flight home, not now, about choosing the best option. Shower, heal and spend time with her. Heal together. You’re both still here, so right now you might as well use it selfishly, while you have that. Stanley opens his eyes and looks down at Y/N. The water runs in his eyes a few times. She moves back to look back at him, feeling a slight change in his position. She blinks, because the water gets into her eyes, as well, but she smiles. Stanley does as well, and then he reaches behind her to turn off the shower stream.

Naturally, they both shiver out of loss of warm water, but then hurry out of the bath-shower to wrap themselves in towels. Stanley helps Y/N not fall over on the slippery surface, what with having as many fears as she does. It’s a bath, after all, and he feels they’ll always frighten him a little bit from now on.

They both reach for the towels hanging on the heating pipes, and Y/N hums at the contact with her towel. It’s better than nice, and it’s better than perfect. She feels like falling asleep in this towel. Surprisingly soft for hotel towels.

They dry their hair out as much as they can with single towels, and then wrap the towels around their bodies. Non-verbally, maybe telepathically, they decide to wash their teeth. Stanley uses his own toothbrush and paste, but Y/N uses the tools their hotel provides—in the rush to catch the first flight to Maine she forgot to pack her tooth essentials. How silly and unhygienic of her, you might think. Not in her situation, not this time. Tooth cleaning essentials were really the smallest and most unimportant thing then.

Nor Stanley, nor Y/N speak much. There’s silence between them, tense but peaceful. So many questions nag at both their minds, so many questions they want to ask each other, mostly many uncomfortable questions. Answers to them would be too painful, too frustrating and hard to deal with, in general. Hence the questions are not asked. Many things they’d like to say to each other, but neither of them want to make this a book or movie scene, understand, with confrontation and dramatics. They just… They just really want to be here. They want to live and breathe and move without any complications or heavy-weighing anchors.

Y/N steals a shirt from Stanley, he’s already used it in this trip, and he had folded it to pack into his bag. He snatched his hand after her, but she’d already pulled the shirt over her head and naked breasts and stomach, too late for him to get it back. He looks at her, defeated, and she gives him the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips. Now he can’t help but smile at her, she never fails to make him smile. With her simple enchanting grace and comedic mannerisms. Sometimes Stanley thinks her funnier than Richie Tozier himself.

Stanley now straightens up in his other button-up and underwear and watches her gracefully waltzing back into the bathroom, only in his shirt and her knickers. He can see wet spots on the shirt’s shoulders and over the breasts and back from her free-falling wet hair strands.

How magnificent is she. Arms like feather wings, legs like intertwining ribbons that dance so easily to their own beat. Hair of a color that reminds him of sunny summer and spring days, as well as dark winter afternoons, autumn mornings. Hands with the pads of cotton, cheeks plump and full of color like bright red roses. Her weight almost non-existent, so light and bird-like she carries herself. Her eyes of eternal kindness, the smile of a thousand little suns. And when you add all that together, it seems unreal, doesn’t it? She does. A fantasy only staying for a few moments until it swims away, to someplace else, to someone else. Stanley sighs.

He cannot let this fantasy go. He cannot let her go.

Permanent tag-list:  @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​ ​​​​​@inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs​​​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​​​ @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen​​​​​​​​ @stfxlou​​​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​​​​​​​​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​​​​​​​​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​​​​​​ @langdonzvoid​​​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​ @eddie-spaghetti-boi​​​​​​ @anxiousanakin​​​​​ @terratori812 @urban-dreams​​​​​​​​ @beverlyparkerr​​

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g​​​​​​​​ @sadhwstudent​​​​​​​​ @shawni-h​​​​​​​​ @gothackedalready​​​​​​​​ @seasidecrowbar​​​​​​​​ @starred-river @raspberryacid​​​​​​​​ @facelessbish @tozierskaspb​​​​​​​​ @plum-duels​​​​​​​​ @whereyoustand​​​ ​​​​​@kimseungminsgf​​​​​​ @stanstan-the-manman​​

Heaven tag-list: @lovvliies​​​​​​ @kaspbrak-uris​​​​​​ @happy-at-home​​​​​​​ @jars-of–jupiter @violetzendaya @veronicapuff​​​​

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

#stanley uris x reader #stan uris x reader #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris imagines #stanley uris fic #heaven #heaven 17 #heaven part 17 #heaven series #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #har-rison-s writings #adult!stanley uris x reader #adult!stanley uris fic #adult!stanley uris imagine #adult!stanley uris imagines #adult!stan uris x reader #adult!stan uris imagines #adult!stan uris fic #IT fix-it fic #fix-it fic

[drjackandmissjo]

Roses are Red, Tattoos are Forever

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter

Feysand masterlist

The Sherlock Conundrum

Florist and tattoo artist Au, Modern Day

“Can you please stop with this madness? Hugh Laurie is clearly the best Sherlock ever!”

They were both sitting on the couch of his living room. Really close to each other. She had her left knee under her body and was fully facing him. He had been throwing glances at her way the whole time she’s been there, and now was admiring her everything as they bantered lovingly.

After a particularly rough client, that had taken her nearly seven hours to finish, she came into his shop claiming: “We’re both closing earlier, I need to rest and so do you.”

At his attempt to tell her off, cause “I don’t need to rest I am in pristine fit every second of every minute”, she simply replied with an elongated ‘Please’ and a pair of puppy dog eyes that would’ve put a Labrador to shame.

Useless to say, they ended up on his couch half an hour later, a marathon of the fourth season of House M.D. on the television and chips and popcorn all around.

Feyre is harder than she looks, tougher. She likes to drink whiskey and burning liquor and beer.

Rhys, on the other hand, is a refined rosé man. He drinks fruity drinks and cocktails and vodka. He tried the same stuff that she drinks, once, when they went out with the rest of the inner circle after Az had received a promotion. It didn’t end well.

Feyre and Cassian will forever tease him about it.

Since their taste in alcohol was on such a wide spectrum, they decided to settle for some sparkly Coca-Cola for that fine night.

About halfway through episode six, the debate had begun. The show was soon forgotten and left as a white noise machine that lulled them into their silliness.

“Feyre Darling. You are being delusional. Dr House’s got nothing on RDJ’s Sherlock. Just cause the character was inspired by Conan Doyle’s work it doesn’t mean it can be considered a Sherlock.”

She laughed. A delicious sound that was filling his days more and more each morning. “Do you know that Conan Doyle based Shelly on a doctor, right? Also, yeah Jude Law’s better than Wilson, that is true.”

“Can we just agree that Cumberbatch and Freeman are equally amazing.”

“Yeah, duh! But, controversial opinion: I don’t actually ship Jonhlock romantically.”

“More like platonic soul-mates? Makes complete sense. They are not interested in each other at all. You are right, Fey-ruh Acheron.”

‘HOW DARE SHE...’, he thought severely displeased.

“Oh please don’t be pissed at me. I like them together and everything, but in my mind, Sherlock is pretty much ace-aro. I mean, Cumberbatch was also Smaug. Which in the books is described as a dragon while the movies decided to portray him like a vixen...” He solemnly nodded.

That is, indeed, a severe problem in mainstream media.

“That is, indeed, a severe problem in today mainstream media. We live in a world where people don’t know the difference between one another! Daenerys Mother of Dragons? More like Dany The Soccer Mom of three cool lizards. That would be more appropriate!”

“Don’t talk to me about Dany, I’m still pissed about Jonerys. I mean, fan-service much? Okay, I can deal with that. But don’t freaking kill Viserion and try to make us all believe that HIS MOTHER WOULD FUCK HER NEPHEW THIRTY MINUTES LATER!”

She laughed again.

‘Gods above and below,’ he thought, ‘how much can a person love another?’

“Agree 100% on Viserion, though Jon after Ygrit should’ve just zipped up his pants and close business. You experience that kind of love once in your screentime. And when you do, Martin kills the counterpart off immediately after the big scene. You know that sadist is gonna kill you off, so just spare him the dirty deeds to write.”

“The dirty deeds are the reasons he is taking so much to finish that freaking book. Also, salty much?"

"You dare calling me salty? It’s been years and you still weep over Robb’s body.”

“Excuse you, it is a very fine body. Have you seen Richard Madden lately? With that kilt at Kit and Rose’s wedding? Fine AF.”

She was now scooting over, moving closer to his face to find a reaction.

“Fine, you’re right. But Darling, you know damn well I am attracted to that man, you can’t just casually throw his name around! That would be like me, saying that Misha has aged like a fine whisky.”

“And where would a lie hide in that sentence?”

“ANYWAY. We were talking of something terrifically important.”

He decided to add a Meaningful Pause to give himself some dramatic effect...

“How can you say you don’t ship Jonhlock romantically?”

‘Honesly I love that woman. She is my other half, I would die for her and with her. My life without her has no meaning.

But if her answer doesn’t please me then so help me God I will suffer through a meaningless life with the strength of my ships.’ His mind said.

“I told you before the 'The Hobbit/Game of Thrones' parenthesis. When I read the books I thought of Sherlock as a madman who cared about Watson profoundly, but mostly cares about himself and his work. Someone who doesn’t dwell into feelings, doesn’t really enjoy sexual times and, truly, a modern-day asexual and aromantic asshole with a kink for unofficial police work. Yes, He and Watson are amazing together, and especially with RDJ and Jude Law I saw the sexual tension, which then I also saw in the BBC’s version. But for me, since I read the books first, Jonhlock will always be the exact relationship shown by House and Wilson. Sorry to disappoint.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her shampoo and count the freckles across her nose. She was staring directly into his soul. Rhys was fully clothed in an old tee and some pants and yet he’d never felt more naked.

“You never disappoint me. As a matter of fact, you never cess to amaze me, Feyre Acheron. You are perfect and beautiful both on the inside as well as on the outside. Here I was, looking for a polite way to kick you out of my apartment after you say you don’t ship one of my OTPs and now, here still I am trying not to be drowned into you and trying not to get lost into your eyes and I love you so fucking much that it physically hurts.”

His inner monologue at the time? ‘Fuck. FUCK. What the fuck did I just say???’

She had managed to fry his whole brain with her smart reasoning and perfect voice and now he had ruined a perfect moment by saying cheesy stuff to a girl that didn’t particularly care for cheese.

That was the end of Rhysand Sphera as we all know and love him.

Cause of death: killed by Feyre Acheron as result of saying something completely idiotic.

Only...

“Do you really mean that?”

She sounded hopeful and scared at the same time. The horrors she had to face in the past came running back to her and were written all over her face. Rhys took her hands in his. They were both trembling.

His mouth had probably never been that dry and yet aching to speak at the same time. He could only nod and pray she reciprocated.

That was the moment of truth.

“Of course I mean it. All of it. Each unsaid sentence and each shared glances. Every time I bring you coffee or a send you a picture of a dog that walks into my shop with its owner even though I’m terrified of them. The dog, not the owner. Even though some owners of dogs are terrifying. I have been in love with you for so long, I forgot how it feels not loving you. I look back at those times when you were not in my life and even back then I knew I was missing something. And when he-who-must-not-be-named showed up and swept you off your feet away from me, I was broken beyond repair. But you came back and made me hope that maybe, maybe all my dreams could become true. But you were hurt and also broken, and you needed time to heal. You still do. I shouldn’t have said anything, but you’re just so fucking amazing that I struggle to not scream ‘I Love You’ every time you breathe. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you. I understand if you still need time to heal or would rather be with someone else. But I said it, and I do not intend on taking it back.”

She was kneeling on the couch, her hands still clutching his, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t take it back.”

Rhys thought he had heard what he wanted, so he had to ask, “What?”, a dumbstruck disbelieving-his-luck expression plastered on his face.

“I said don’t take it back. I feel the same way. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you too. I thought you hated me after, well, Tamlin. It is pleasant knowing we reciprocate each other’s feelings.”

Feyre laughed again, breaking the spell between them. Only, now the deed was done. Neither of them could hold their emotions in any longer. Feyre leaned in and so did Rhys, and their lips met halfway in a once in a lifetime, epic romance, Full on Princess Bride type of kiss.

After they both ran out of breath, they simply remained connected in every way possible given their awkward position. Foreheads never leaving each other, hands clasped together, lips barely touching. That spell, though, didn’t last for long. Soon they yearned to touch each other’s skin and feel each other’s bodies.

They were never going to have enough of each other.

#feysand #to the stars who queue #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #feyre #feyre archeron #feyre x rhys #feyre x rhysand #rhys #rhysand #au #modern setting #no magic #ao3 #florist au #tattoo artist au #friends to best friends to lovers #sjm #sjmaas #sarah j maas #fluff #fanfic #domestic