#rather than anxiously trying so hard. its much more fun to just be.

[builtbybrokenbells]

It’s Never Over

A blowout resulting in an untimely breakup between y/n and her long term boyfriend leaves both of them broken. A year and a half later, after nothing but radio silence and unrequited love, they find themselves face to face once more. Both grown up, living completely different lives, but still hurting over mistakes their younger selves made, and still hopelessly head over heels for each other. They find themselves caught up in the struggle of choice; to allow history to repeat itself, or let the memory of their past fade away into nothing.

listen while reading: lover, you should’ve come over - Jeff Buckley

Pairing: josh kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 17.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, sweet soft makeup sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, pet names, body worshiping ig if you squint, breakups/breakup talk, angst (with a happy ending 😁), mentions of drugs, drinking, sad josh (needs a warning of its own), crying, some yelling, sweetness, tooth rotting fluff, sorry if I miss any!!!

so somebody requested some josh angst and i just couldn’t help myself 🤭 a very happy ending, pinky promise. you guys know me well enough to know I’m a slut for happy endings. also sorry it turned out so long, i HAVE to stop it with the literal novels. i just got super attached to the characters and got carried away (what else is new). i also wrote this mostly in one sitting so I had to trim a lot and add things here and there, but i hope this is satisfactory!! also not fantastically edited, cause I’m super lazy 🫣 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

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The silk of your dress clung to your skin, the slit in the leg just promiscuous enough to catch eyes, but not enough to be uncomfortably exposed. The deep emerald green was elegant, a fantastic choice on your part. Your hair hung loosely over your shoulders, the scent of your perfume radiating around you. You were dressed to the nines, much like the other women pooling into the lobby of the five-star hotel. Even so, you had never felt more out of place. As you anxiously awaited the progression to the main event, you couldn’t help but check over your shoulders every few minutes. You were hoping to catch sight of any familiar faces before they saw you, in hopes of a head start to hide away. You straightened your hair out and fixed the straps of your dress, trying to pass a few more minutes without focusing on your nervousness.

It was your first time back in Nashville after a year and a half of avoiding it. You’d moved to New York some time ago and hadn’t looked back since. Your hometown was greatly missed, but for no reasons that were obvious. You didn’t miss your family; you shared phone calls and texts, which was perfectly fine for you. They’d always been a bit hard on the head, raving about appearance and sophistication rather than fun and happiness, so the distance wasn’t terribly troublesome. Your siblings were scattered across the world, anyway, so the change in location really had no effect on the relationships you previously had with them. The town itself wasn’t troublesome to leave behind, either. You had gotten your fill of it in your first twenty-some years of life, and it was quite refreshing to get out into the world and see something new.

What you did miss, though, was the boy you left behind. Although, it wasn’t a choice to leave him; he’d made that decision for you, and without a hesitation, too. You never expected him to come with you while you followed your dream. It would be selfish to expect him to leave everything behind to chase you around the world. But, you did hope that there was a part of him that wanted to make it work despite the distance, like you’d done for him countless times. When you told him you had to go, that the move was something you desperately needed, all of the love he ever had for you seemed to disappear. He turned cold and distant, and ended things without a second thought.

“Please, Josh, just listen to me for one minute!” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. His usually joyous face was nothing short of indifferent towards you, now.

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you, y/n.” The words were equal to a stab to the chest. His eyes were looking anywhere but you, secretly afraid he’d break down and tell you everything he was holding back.

“You’re going to throw the last three years out the window over this? Without a compromise, or a conversation, or anything at all?” There was a few feet of space between you, both scared of breaking the invisible boundary.

“You’re leaving! You pack up all of your shit and move in with me, just to tell me a few months later that you’re moving across the country? You’ve known for a while, and you’re just telling me now?” He finally broke, the pain in his eyes clearer than anything you’d ever seen. The accusatory tone was infuriating, as if he was sentencing you with a crime you hadn’t committed.

“I haven’t known for a while, Josh. I just got the email today! I applied thinking there was no way in hell I would ever hear back, but I did, and I have to go. This is my dream, you know that. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” You pleaded for him to see reason.

“The only thing, huh?” You could tell the statement landed wrong, feeling guilty for even making him think that was what you meant. “I tell you all of the time you can come work with us, design for us; we’d be more than happy to have you there.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t always be in the background of your fame. I can’t backpack off of your success, live in the shadows of my boyfriend forever. I need to make a name for myself, to prove to everyone that I can do it on my own, without any handouts.” You explained. He nodded, barely responding to anything you had to say about it.

“That’s fine, y/n. Go, live your dream. I’m not stopping you.” He sounded defeated, like he was giving up.

“What about us?” You whispered, your voice hoarse from the hours of back-and-fourth yelling.

“Clearly you weren’t thinking about me when you made the decision, so why are you worried about it, now?” Your heart broke, the tears you were holding back finally falling down your cheeks. “You can go, but I’m not going to wait for you to come back.” Silence hung thick in the air, and for the first time in your long history, it was uncomfortable.

“So that’s it?” You snapped. “I can sit at home while you travel the world, wait for you to come home, not know if you’re sleeping with the millions of girls that throw themselves at you? That’s fine? But the minute I want to get out of here, escape the shitty 9-5 lifestyle and do something for myself, I’m the bad guy? I’m not asking you to drop everything and come with me, I’m just asking you to love me enough to support me while I do it!” You could see regret flash in his eyes, both of your emotions running high and clouding your judgement. When he remained silent, you got more than enough of an answer. “Okay,” you let out a small, humourless laugh. “I’ll get my shit, then. If this is how you want to go about it, fine by me. You’ll never have to see me again.” You turned towards the hallway, preparing yourself to pack up your entire life.

“Y/n,” he said, stopping you for a moment. “Just stay, please.” You could hear tears in his voice, too.

“So I can sit around and wait for you for the rest of my life?” Your voice cracked, effortlessly showing him all of the emotion you were trying not to let out. “I can’t put everything on pause because you don’t want me to go, Josh. I might never get a chance like this ever again. I don’t want to leave you, but this is my life. My dream.”

“I’m supposed to be a part of your life, too.”

“Not if you make me choose.”

“So you’ve already made up your mind?” The accusation fuelled a fire in you.

“I was hoping to have both, but I guess we can��t have everything we want.” He let out a long exhale.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He grumbled. “You’re leaving to chase after a possibility, y/n. You’re gonna move out there with no real offer lined up? You could get out there and end up at another shitty office job. Alone, away from everything you know. I’m here. I love you, and I’m certain about that.” Your stomach sank at his words, filled with dread knowing that he didn’t believe in you.

“You may be, but I’m not.” You scoffed. “If you love me, you’d support me. You know how bad I want this. You’re not being fair.” You waited for a moment, hoping he’d say something else. When you were met with another staggering silence, you stumbled away from him with your heart in your stomach and your head in your hands. You left your house key on the bed before walking away forever.

That was the last time you spoke to him. A few days after that, you got on a plane to New York and spent months trying to rid yourself of his memory. Now, over a year later, every essence of your being was still plagued with Josh Kiszka. You never got over him, you never moved on, and you never stopped thinking of him. He was the love of your life; the type of love that overshadowed any other emotion you could ever experience. Sure, you hated him, too, and a part of you hoped you’d never see him again, but there was a bigger part of you that longed for one more hug, or even just another smile. He was one of a kind, and nobody held a candle to him. He never texted, he never called, or even so much as liked a social media post. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d spend the rest of your life yearning for someone who barely remembered you existed.

As much as you still loved him, the hurt you held in your chest was debilitating. He let you walk out the door, no hint of hesitation. It killed you, because you’d spent years cheering him and his brothers on while they lived their dream, but he wasn’t willing to reciprocate for you. You hoped he would change his mind, but the only thing you’d received in your year away was radio silence. There was no solid proof that you ever existed to him aside from memory, and that’s what hurt you the most. You watched his life through pictures, his face gracing your phone screen with new press releases and album announcements, sending you spiralling down the Kiszka rabbit hole even further. You listened to their music every now and then, even watched a few interviews, just to remind yourself of what his voice sounded like. You were well aware that their new album was bound to release within the next few months. It served as another reminder of how great his life was going without you in it.

You hadn’t done too bad for yourself, either. The move to New York stemmed from a submission to be considered for a spot in New York Fashion Week. You’d applied as a model for the event, with slim expectations for a response. When they responded to your headshots, it kickstarted the fire in you to follow your passion. Once you arrived, you modelled and found that taste of life you’d been longing for so badly. You had the opportunity to meet big names you had been dreaming of meeting your whole life, and somehow even managed to pick up a mentor to help you achieve your biggest dream: design. After a few months of solely shadowing her, then a year of sleepless nights and some blood, sweat, and tears, you were finally set to release your own line of designer clothing. Of course, it was partnered with your mentor company, but it still adorned your name.

Most of your presale items were already sold out, giving you an overwhelming sense of pride. Big celebrities were in line to own your clothing, eager enough to buy it that they were ordering months ahead. As much as it hurt leaving everything behind when you moved to New York, your life was more than you ever could have imagined it, now. Still, with all of the financial success, a part of you still felt like it was missing. Somewhere amidst all of the fame, you realized that you may have given up a bit too much to get where you were. You tried not to focus on it, knowing that dwelling on the past would only limit you from the future. If Josh Kiszka was meant to be yours, he would be. If not, life would go on. You had to understand that, because if you believed anything else, you were sure it would kill you.

The crowd began to filter away in front of you, letting you know the doors to the event were opening. The cameras outside were still flashing, meaning guests were still arriving. You were thankful you had a room booked upstairs so you could avoid the paparazzi. As much as you loved your work, the galas and celebrations could be a bit much by times. You almost preferred the quietness of the design room over the runway, now. At first, the pictures and cheers and magazine covers were a thrill. They’d begun to lose their novelty almost as soon as it started, just the same as the parties. When your boss handed you a plane ticket a few days prior, you questioned why you were heading to Nashville. She’d wasted no time in telling you about the Gala you would be not only attending, but speaking at. Your stomach was sick at the idea. Some of it was due to the public speaking, but more so because Nashville was the last place you wanted to be. But, part of the job was to keep up appearances, so you had no choice but to oblige.

The question of Nashville in specific brought up a whole world of information. Apparently, the success of your line of clothing had caused some speculation of expansion. That morning, the company announced your own outlet store opening in your hometown. They thought it as a gift to you, but it was more of a nightmare. That meant a lot more time in Nashville, even permanently, for a while. Also, more appearances, and more of a chance to run into the boy you’d rather run away from. Still, your appreciation of the gesture was unmatched; knowing they had faith in you to have your own outlets meant more than anything in the world. You felt like the success you’d been searching for had finally rewarded you. So, you hopped on a plane and threw on your best dress. You left your hotel room with big smiles and the determination to forget any uncertainty. Still, you were well aware that a gala in Nashville would indisputably include musicians. That meant there was a larger chance of seeing Josh than you were particularly comfortable with.

You followed the sea of people into the large room, noticing it was decorated in hints of golds and silvers, really showcasing elegance. The stage was lit up with low lights, hinting towards the anticipated guest speakers. Soft music flowed through the sound system, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Music was the best way to drown out the other noise, and in your life, there was always noise. “You know, there’s more to life than caviar and blow.” You looked to your side, focusing on your company for the night. You laughed at her comment once you’d processed what she said. “I don’t think many people here know that.”

“It’s a tale of the rich, Liz. Most of these people were born on a bed of gold plated fish eggs and were shoved straight into generational drug addiction.” You smirked, eyes scanning the crowd. You knew your parents weren’t poor, but they were far from the families some of these people were born into. They had good reputations in the community, but not across the world. You weren’t impoverished, but would never have fathomed this type of money as a kid. As much as they cared about appearance, they were good parents. They raised you with love and strong morals, and you weren’t a stranger to struggle. They didn’t pay your way through life. What you got came from what you earned.

“Can you even imagine growing up this way? First birthdays spent at the Met Gala and graduation parties thrown in Venice?” She chuckled, but disbelief was present in her tone. Liz was a university student you’d hand picked to hire after her graduation. She doubled as an assistant and one of your models, but she was more than that. Over the months, she’d slowly turned into your best friend. She wasn’t much younger than you, only by about three years. Her resume caught your eye faster than any other, and you’d called her almost instantly. She just wanted experience in the fashion world, but you were certain that if things went smooth over the next few months, you’d ensure she’d be given her shares in the company. She worked extremely hard, had fantastic insight, along with being bright, kind, and hilarious. She kept you on your toes and brought you back to reality when you needed it.

“I suppose if you don’t know anything else, it’s completely normal.” You theorized. “I don’t ever want my kids to grow up that way. I don’t want them to be scared of playing outside and getting dirty. I don’t want money to be their main concern. And, if I had to suffer through the American public school system, they will too.” You laughed. She joined in, agreeing completely. You turned your head towards her, noticing the material of her dress was misplaced around her shoulders. “Mm, hold on,” you said, reaching over to her. She faced you, already knowing what the look on your face meant. You straightened it out, taking a small step back to double check. “There. Can’t have you in disarray, darling. Sure way to get us kicked out.” She grinned, picking up on your joking tone immediately.

“You just want your designer dresses to look perfect.”

“I’m nothing if not vain.” You both shared another laugh. You noticed a photographer making his way around the room through the corner of your eye. “Lipstick check.” You said, panicked. You flashed her your teeth.

“You’re good.” She repeated the action back to you.

“You, too.” You let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Can’t wait to get the pictures and introductions over with so we can start drinking.”

“You don’t need any generational alcoholism; you got that all by yourself.” She chided. You chuckled, eyes searching for a server with champagne. That was one thing that was always for certain; no matter how mind-numbing the gala’s were, there was always high-end alcohol floating around somewhere.

“It’s not all pretty patterns and cross stitching, you know. Have to drown the demons somehow.” Your conversation was cut short by a camera being shoved in your faces. You gave your best public smile, the kind where your lips were upturned but you looked a little dead behind the eyes. Somehow in the celebrity world, that equated to elegance. You posed with Liz, giving the camera a bit of a show. Eventually, you broke and gave a real smile, but only for a moment. Once the photographer moved away, you relaxed your posture, feeling a bit more human.

“Does fame always entail looking soulless?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’ll get used to it.” You mumbled, eyes falling to the table that was overflowing with food. Your eyes lit up at the sight of self-serve champagne flutes. You grabbed Liz’s hand, bringing her along with you as you advanced towards it. You picked up a glass, immediately taking a large gulp out of it. The nude colour of your lipstick stained the rim, claiming it as your own. Liz grabbed one too, also indulging in the bubbly liquid. “You don’t have to look soulless all of the time. Just when you’re posing, or on the walk, or if you’re walking down the street, or at the supermarket.” You listed, humour radiating from you. “Interviews give you the chance to show a little bit of life. Takes the world as a shock, you know, when they realize you actually have a personality.” You continued the earlier conversation.

“That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. But it’s what I was taught.” You gave a shrug. “I think people find power attractive, and that’s kind of what you encase in pictures when you look like that. At least that’s what I picked up from it.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Also makes the interviews more memorable, too. People cling to the emotion ‘cause they feel like they finally get to know some part of you. Feel connected, even.”

“Exactly, sweetheart. See? You’re gonna have my job in no time.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ve got at least two more good years before people get bored of you.” You couldn’t help the cackle that fell from your lips, finding the statement hilarious mostly because of its truth. The spotlight only shines for so long before it’s begging to move on. “I don’t want your job. I’d like to work with you forever, I think.” She picked up an appetizer from the table, eyeing it suspiciously before popping it in her mouth.

“Don’t you think I’d be more fun when I go batshit crazy because I don’t know what to do with myself after the fame?”

“No, because I’d have to take care of you.” She said without missing a beat. “I know the rest of the ass-kissers at the office won’t. They just want their five minutes of fame. They don’t give a shit about you.” You hummed an agreement, knowing she was speaking the truth. True connection in the world of money and power was rare, and she was the only person you’d ever felt it with aside from your own mentor. It was a constant struggle of use people or get used, and it was exhausting. As much passion as you had for your work, you were always the first to admit that the industry was ruthless.

“Yeah, sometimes I feel like Julius Caesar walking in there. Waiting for the day they all get together and stab me.” You took another sip from your glass.

“Well, they’ll probably stab me, too. At least we can go to hell, together.” You raised your glass as a cheers to the statement. She gently clicked her glass against yours in response. “Jokes aside, you are a good boss. They all have great things to say about you, so you don’t have to worry about planned assassination, yet.”

“Fantastic news. I’ve been preparing for it for weeks, now.” You smiled. Just as you finished speaking, the lights dimmed a little further. You paid no mind to it, assuming it was just a cue for everyone to gather around in preparation for the first speech. “I want to be a good boss. I don’t want to be the person everybody is scared of. I do what I do because I love it, not for the money. If I can make people fall in love with it, too, then I know I did something worthwhile. That’s the end goal.” You drained the last of your beverage, placing your glass on the tray to be taken away. You immediately went for another, needing the liquid courage for when the stage was yours.

“You do a good job. That office is full of inspiration. I never felt out of place, even when I had no experience. Made me feel like I was meant to be there, rather than just meant to work for you.” You let a smile out, one laced with genuineness.

“Cause you are, Liz. I didn’t hire you because i thought you’d stroke my ego. I hired you because I knew you’d challenge me. There’s no pride in getting your way all of the time. We all need a little criticism to thrive.”

“It’s insane, y/n. I remember being in my grad year and hearing about the new model catching the attention of everyone at Fashion Week. Less than a year later, you were working with one of the biggest designers in America, and starting your own brand. You made the industry your bitch, and when you hired me I was terrified of you. I thought anyone who climbed the ladder that fast had to be evil. But you’re just a person. My friend, even. You respect everyone, from the big bosses to the janitors. It’s very admirable.”

“Don’t stroke my ego, I just told you that’s not why I hired you.” You chuckled. “I was the same as everyone else, too. I didn’t come from money, I had to do the dirty work, I got my heart broken, and knocked down a few times, too. I can recognize what I have now had a lot to do with luck, even if I do have the talent. That’s just the way the industry works. But, everyone plays a part in success, even if you’re the one changing the garbages, signing the legal documents, or have your name sewn into the tag.” She watched you in admiration as you spoke, almost shaking her head in disbelief. Despite the tiny age gap, she always felt like she could get the wisdom she craved from you. She looked up to you, even when you told her not to. In your eyes, you and her were the same. You wished she’d start to see it that way, too. “You’ll realize I’m just me when I get up there and stumble over all of my words.” You chuckled.

“You’ll look hot while you do it, though.” She gave you a nudge with your elbow. You laughed, feeling redness rise to your cheeks.

“You think so?” You appreciated the compliment more than she realized. Deep down, you were hoping to look good, just in case Josh happened to be floating around the event.

“Oh, yeah. That dress was the right choice.” You both fell into a silence, meticulously people watching. By the time the first speech was over with, you were buzzing with nervousness for your turn on the stage. You realized just how many people were there as you observed the crowed, understanding that if you messed up, you’d be the laughing stock of the event. Liz picked up on your anxiety, soothing you with small jokes and comments intermittently. It was helping slightly, knowing that you weren’t there alone, at least.

You’d done a lot of behind the scenes work over the last year. You did a few shows, not minding the camera in your face because you didn’t have to say anything. There was no worry of stutters or misplaced rambling. Only recently had you started speaking publicly, beginning with interviews and press conferences. Now, they were integrating you into a spokesperson. As your mentor told you, your work is nothing without publicity. You needed to create the illusion of connection, make people believe they know you, make them feel appreciated. That was the key to success. You spoke at a few gala’s, but this was the largest one to date with some of the most popular faces. The alcohol was giving you a bit of a sense of confidence, and whether it was fake or not didn’t matter; you had it, and you were going to use it.

A hand on your shoulder sent a jolt of shock through you, as it was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Somewhere in your soul, you recognized it without even having to look at the face. “I always told you green was your colour, sunshine.” The tone, the dialect, formulation of the words, even the barely noticeable Michigan accent at the end of the sentence was painstakingly reminiscent for you. Your stomach plummeted, heart pounding against your rib cage as you turned towards the voice. Your gaze connected with his, sending a wave of emotion through you more powerful than most you’d felt before.

“Jake,” you breathed. His lips upturned into a smile, unable to contain his excitement to see you.

“I missed you.” He said, wasting no time pulling you into a hug. As much of a shock as it was to see him, you couldn’t help but melt into the hold. As angry as you were with his brother, Jake had always been your best friend through the years of dating Josh. When your relationship came to an untimely end, so did your friendship. You’d grown estranged from the boy in the same way you had with Josh, and it killed you just the same, too. You spent days deliberating reaching out to him, just to check in, but you didn’t want to overstep boundaries. Instead, you mastered the art of becoming a stranger with him, too.

“You had time to miss me with all of that music you’re making?” You teased, pulling back but not fully letting go of him. Your hand rested on his bicep, hesitant to release him in case he slipped away. “An album and another world tour coming up, I’m surprised you have time to think of anything other than that guitar.”

“Always have time to think about you,” he said, trying to pass it off as a joke. You could see a flicker of hurt cross his eyes, the small emotion feeling like a stab to the chest. “What about you, though? Your own brand and an outlet store here in Nashville?”

“So you keep up to date with me?” You grinned.

“Seems like you do, too.” He chuckled. “I, uh… I’m proud of you, Sunny.” The words settled in your bones like cement, weighing you down. As kind as they were, everything seemed to hurt when it was coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his tone of voice reminded you so much of the boy you forced yourself to stop thinking about. Maybe it was his mannerisms, or the face, because when he turned his head a certain angle, all you could see was Josh. Whatever it was, it hurt, and it hurt achingly bad.

“I’m proud of you guys, too. The single was phenomenal. I always knew you guys were destined for something big. I think I can even see the rock and roll hall of fame in your future.” You smiled.

“One can dream.” He laughed. “I saw you were almost completely sold out of pre-orders. Everybody has been talking about you. It’s crazy.”

“You checked out my website?” You asked, a fizzle of excitement sparking in your chest. He scoffed at the question.

“I think we were the first to put an order in.” He was telling the truth, you could sense the genuine nature of his words just by his eyes. “The men’s line is super cool, by the way.”

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You got something?” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

“Of course we did, y/n. We all got something.” You wanted to press further about his statement of ‘all’, but you pushed the thought away.

“I thought you guys would have forgotten about me by now.” You admitted. A bewildered look flashed across his face.

“Forget you?” He asked, unable to believe you’d ever think that. “Sunny, we think about you almost every day. We talk about you all of the time.” You swallowed hard at the new found information. “I saw your name on the program and I knew I couldn’t let you get away without saying hi, at least. I’ve been looking for you all night. Recognized you as soon as I saw you over here. Could spot you from a mile away. I know… I know things ended pretty poorly, but the love is still there. That’ll never go away.” You almost didn’t know how to answer, wanting to pry more from him, but also not wanting to know at all.

“Is… is Josh here, too?” You finally asked, knowing the answer before he replied.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Is he,” you paused yourself, unsure if the inquiries were pushing a boundary. “okay? I mean, like obviously, but you know.” You rambled, embarrassing yourself slightly.

“He’s Josh.” Jake assured you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “He misses you. He’s the first to check all of the fashion magazines to see if they’re talking about you. He hasn’t been… quite the same, since everything. He still laughs and drinks and rambles, but he’s a bit more distant, I think.”

“Oh,” you repeated your same proclamation from earlier.

“If you feel up to it, maybe stop and say hello. Even if you don’t talk to him, Sam and Danny would be over the moon to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t know, Jake.” A humourless laugh fell from your lips. “Some things are just better left as is.”

“I don’t think this one is,” he said, eyes boring into you. “It’s completely up to you, sunshine.” He said, smiling warmly to assure you he meant it. Before you could respond, the announcer called out your name; in the height of emotion, you must have missed your introduction. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?” Jake said, ushering you to the stage. You nodded, downing the last of your champagne before bustling towards the stairs. You were mindful of the skirt of your dress as you walked, fearing you may trip on it and ruin the entrance. Once you had both feet planted safely on the stage, you took to the mic stand.

“Thank you for that kind introduction,” You smiled off to the side of the stage at the host, assuming he had said something kind like he had for the other speakers. Otherwise, you would look a bit like a fool. “It’s fantastic to be here tonight.” You took in a breath, trying not to focus on the crowd staring up at you. “I spent a long time debating on what to say when I got here, tonight. If I’m being completely transparent, I’m still not sure. The boss told me to get up here and tell you about myself, so that’s what I’m going to do.” You started, eyes settling on Liz for some sense of security. You used her as a focal point until your comfortability grew. “It’s intimidating getting on stage and talking about success. Especially when I feel far behind in that department, sometimes. It doesn’t seem to matter how many sales are made, or how many congratulations are spewed; we always seem to be our biggest critic, and I haven’t been able to break that habit, yet. Growing up in Nashville, there was always buzz about the greats and the up and coming stars; this whole city, and state, is full of pride, and for good reason. To think that I can be considered part of it has been mind-blowing. Knowing the support I have from home and all over the world has been incredibly eye opening, and a bit of a confidence boost, too.” You flashed a smile, causing a chorus of laughter from the audience.

“Just over a year ago, I was packing my bags and riddled with anxiety at the thought of jumping on a plane and flying away from everything I’d ever known. Somehow, by the grace of the universe, I’d been selected to participate in New York Fashion Week. When I moved there, there was no true promise of a career, but the publicity certainly seemed like a good place to start. As I flew away from here, all I could hear in my head was a million reasons to turn around and stay home. There was one voice of reason in the swarm of negativity that pushed me to follow my dream, and I’m so thankful I listened to it.” You paused, regaining your breath before you continued on. “When I arrived, I got to meet people I’d been admiring for my entire life; names that I never thought I would get a chance to speak about, let alone speak to them. I walked with pride, even in my ignorance. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just happy to be there. Somehow, in my clumsiness and lack of grace, someone saw potential. I was lucky enough to be graced with a mentor who never gave up on me; one who taught me everything I know. She is my rock, and my mother away from home. I owe every success to her, and I have no shame in saying that.” There was an awe from the crowd, appreciating the sweetness.

“She taught me design, sure, but more so than that, she taught me dedication, pride and the true meaning of hard work.” Another laugh sounded. “After a few months of relentless effort, it started to pay off. A few small companies picked up my designs, using them for miscellaneous projects. But one day, in the dreariness of winter, I was given my most valuable gift; the offer to launch my own line of clothing. Of course, partnered with my parent company, but my own work, with my heart and soul stitched into the seams. I still struggle to believe it’s real.” There was a chorus of cheers at the statement. You gave a smile, rose dusting your cheeks. “In the time from the early stages of production to now, I’ve made incredible memories. There were hard times, lots of tears and challenges, and even a couple nights leaving me with the desire to give up. But I pushed through, persevering only due to the strength that my team gives me every day. Every person I work with played a part in me getting here, and it would be incredibly dishonourable to walk away without thanking them for their hard work, too. I was lucky enough to bring along my assistant, Liz.” You pointed to her in the front row. “She’s been my driving force, my best friend, and my motivation. I have no doubt that she’ll take over for me eventually, or even be bigger than what I am, now. If anyone deserves applause, it’s her.” The crowd gave another round of cheers, causing the younger girl to erupt in a blush, smiling and waving slightly. When the crowd died down, you continued.

“I’m beyond grateful to say the presales for the brand have nearly been sold out already. That is almost unfathomable for me to think about. This morning our company issued an announcement, which I’m sure some have heard by now. After months of relentless efforts, and the dedication from my fantastic colleagues, in addition to launching this new line of clothing, our first outlet will be opening here in Nashville. We thought it only right for my hometown to be the first place to have access to our store. I’m at a loss of words at the moment; I cannot express my gratitude enough.” A round of applause sounded. You couldn’t hold back your grin, looking around the room at all of the beaming faces.

“I want to sincerely thank everyone here for giving me the time to speak. Telling my story still feels very odd, like I shouldn’t have a story to tell. I never expected to be here in my lifetime, let alone at the young age that I am. To be considered a part of Nashville’s pride is an extraordinary feeling, and proof that hard work does pay off. I would be nothing without this city, and to see the love it has for me is a beautiful thing. I also want to say thank you to all of the friends of the past, ones who I don’t necessarily speak with anymore, but I always hold close to me, no matter the distance. There’s a few in the audience tonight, ones who will forever hold a place in my heart. They helped me get here just as much as anyone else.” You gave a soft smile, trying to locate Jake. You caught sight of him, making sure he knew who you were talking about. You ignored the bodies that stood next to him, unsure if you could keep going if you caught Josh’s gaze. “So with that, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your night of festivities. The food is fantastic, and so are the drinks. Thank you for allowing me to share my celebrations with you all, and here’s to a hundred more outlet stores across the world.”

As you stepped off the stage, you were finally able to fully catch your breath. The clapping and cheering didn’t fully dissipate until you rejoined Liz by the beverages. “You did fantastic!” She raved, handing you a new glass of champagne.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You breathed, fanning yourself with your hand. You grabbed the champagne with your other, wanting to drink away the feeling of standing on stage. “This is so stupid, don’t you think?” You asked her. “A bunch of rich people bragging about how rich they are.”

“That’s only some of them. Others are people who worked hard and want to celebrate the success. That’s where you come in.” She gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for the mention. Made me feel special.”

“You are special,” you laughed. “Takes a certain type of person to be able to put up with me all day.”

“Mm, you seem pretty widely liked. Who was that guy you were talking to?” She pried. You grimaced at the memory of the interaction.

“Uh, that was ex-boyfriends twin brother.” You explained. Her eyes widened at the knowledge, almost as if she didn’t believe you. You were surprised she didn’t catch on. Well, more surprised that she wasn’t eavesdropping. If you were her, you would be.

“Like ex-boyfriend who broke up with you because you moved to New York?”

“That’s the one.” You nodded. She knew about Josh, but mostly just the basics. She was well aware of the constant internal battle of still loving him and hating his guts. “Jake was my best friend, too, though. Just ‘cause me and Josh ended badly doesn’t mean I don’t love him.” You shrugged.

“So do we hate Josh today, or love him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“To be determined.” You grabbed a napkin off the table and one of the more appetizing looking foods.

“Is he here?” You nodded.

“Whole band is. I’m not surprised. They have an album and a world tour coming up.”

“So you keep tabs on them,” she smirked.

“Yeah, obviously. You wouldn’t?”

“Fair enough.” She conceded. “Are you going to talk to him?”

You didn’t answer, mostly because you weren’t sure yourself. You had no idea if you wanted to talk to him, and no idea if he wanted to talk to you. You weren’t mad at her for being curious. She’d been trying to set you up on dates the entire time she’d known you, but you always turned them down. She only clued in to why after you told her about Josh. You had no interest in dating anyone, mostly because you were certain nobody would ever compare to him. The other part of you was terrified of getting hurt like that again. When Josh let you walk out without as much as a shred of hesitation, it shattered you. He was everything; the one thing in your life you’d ever been 100% certain of. Leaving him behind was gut wrenching, but knowing he didn’t care enough to fight for you was worse. You always believed he loved you enough to not care about the distance; the few tours he’d done while you were dating never proved to be an issue. You had a hard time swallowing the truth that he didn’t mind the distance as long as he wasn’t the one waiting at home.

“I don’t know, Liz.” You sighed. “It’s been a long time. I think it’s better to just let it go.”

“If you still love him this much after all of this time, maybe you shouldn’t.” You placed the flute to your lips, tipping your head back and taking another long drink of champagne.

“You’ll learn soon enough not to listen to your heart all of the time. Brain knows best.” You reminded. “And stop being an instigator, you little shit.” You laughed. She smiled, but her eyes were following something behind you. You furrowed your eyebrows at her sudden disinterest in you, finding it odd.

“Better turn your heart off, then.” She let out a quick mumble of words. She’d recognized him just from the similarities to his brother. There was no mistaking who he was, or who he was intending to talk to.

“What?” You questioned, turning your head to look in the direction of her gaze. As soon as you did, you wished you hadn’t.

Your heart sped, stomach erupting into nervous butterflies. Your palms were sweating and your breath was stuck in your throat. Josh was there, approaching you with intent. He looked different; his hair was fluffier, shaved down on the sides. He had facial hair, too, although not much. He really looked like he’d grown up since the last time you’d seen him. But, if you had to admit it, you did, too. No more kids pretending to be grown ups with too many hopes and dreams; real adults with real professions. Adults that admittedly, had been very stupid. Adults that were still very much hurting over the mistakes their younger selves made. The difference 18 months can make was staggering, you realized.

His confidence faltered once he caught your eyes. He was certain he was going to fall to his knees, weak just from the sight of you in front of him again. As he walked, he debated turning around, pretending he’d never seen you at all. But, he was certain there was a gleam of hope in your eye, and that drove him to keep going. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Liz said, quickly shuffling away to give you a moment of privacy. By the time she was out of sight, he was in front of you. The scent of incense and lingering cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a scent you’d been craving for a long time, unmistakably Josh. Unmistakably home. The both of you stood, unsure of where to start. The emotion was too intense for a simple hello, but the uncertainty limited you both from saying anything else.

You looked over his face, taking in his features, studying him as if you were trying to memorize him all over again. He did look different, his jaw a bit more prominent and overall looked a bit more serious than he used to. Still, under the new facade, he was in there. The Josh you fell in love with was undoubtedly standing in front of you, just rebranded. You realized he couldn’t change enough to take away the type of love you had for him, for it was undying. “Is this the part where we cause a scene and I throw my drink at you?” You asked. The corner of his lips upturned into a smirk.

“If you feel the need to, I suppose I could understand why.” You returned the expression, happy to know that the spark was still there. At least to you, it was.

“How’ve you been, Josh?” You whispered. You were certain a flash of hurt crossed his eyes as the words left your lips. It was one that told you he thought too much of you for such simplistic small-talk. One that screamed rejection at the formalities, especially considering you both knew each other better than anyone else.

“Travelling the world.” He shrugged, but that’s all he gave. “What about you, Sunshine?” The sound of the nickname coming from his lips could have sent you straight to your knees. You had to take a long breath before you could respond, feeling the need to recover from his question.

“Dressing up and pretending I fit in with these people.”

“Pretending?” He challenged. “Could’ve fooled me.” You gave a soft smile. “That speech was phenomenal.”

“Suppose I’ve grown into the part, now.”

“Crazy what a year and a half can do, eh?” You caught his eyes, feeling your heart ache at the sea of brown you’d been missing so much. “Not like anyone was counting, though.” He added, trying to pass it off as a joke, afraid to let the vulnerability through.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “You look good.” You finally said, airing out what you wanted to admit. He chuckled.

“Have you looked in a mirror, lately? Success looks fantastic on you.” He breathed. “I didn’t think you could get any prettier, but you always seem to surprise me.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment.

“You’re all looking quite spectacular, actually. I’d like to meet your stylist. Seems like they really know what they’re doing. The stage outfits are a masterpiece. Maybe I could work with them, if you’re willing to open up a spot for an old friend.” You smiled, a warm one without any dishonest undertones. He let out a small laugh, nodding along to your statement.

“I’m sure we could work something out. We’d all be pretty thrilled to have you on board with us.” A painful moment ensued, one where you clearly picked up on his refrain. He was talking in broadness to avoid letting you know how badly he’d enjoy having you around, again. “Did you maybe want to go somewhere a bit more private?” He asked, breaking the silence you’d fallen into.

“Yeah, that would be alright.” You nodded. “Think I need a few drinks for this conversation, though.” You finished the last of your champagne and grabbed two more flutes. He nodded, appreciating the idea, then grabbed two for himself. He was grateful you hadn’t turned around and walked away. A simple hello was more than he was expecting from the conversation.

He led you in the direction of a side door, opening it and holding it for you. You slipped out, noticing that it revealed a patio area. The night was cool, but clear. The stars twinkled few and far between, and the moon casted a low light over the ground. There were a few tables and chairs places spaciously around the deck, the posts adorned with swirls of string lights. It would have been quite romantic had the mood not been so sullen. He pulled out a chair for you, inviting you to sit down. You did so, placing your glasses on the table. He pulled a chair from the other side of the table towards you. He settled in front of you, a little bit closer than ex’s should sit.

He took a long look at you, drinking in every detail and finding himself intoxicated from it. He’d wished for so long to have you in front of him again that he seemed to forget the effect you had on him. It had only gotten worse with time. He looked to be waiting for you to speak first, so you did. “Why’d you let me go that night?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was stupid.” He admitted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, agreeing with him.

“Why’d you leave like that?” He asked, challenging your question. You looked up at him, disbelief clouding your expression.

“You made me choose, Josh.” You reminded him, not willing to take the blame for the situation.

“And you didn’t choose me.” He said, not in an accusatory fashion. Just in a simple sense, as if he was recalling the night as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to choose at all.” You explained. “You were asking me to pick between the two things I wanted most in life. It’s not like I walked into that conversation planning to leave you.”

“You chose a job over me, y/n.” You shot him a look, one that he knew all too well. It would take a lifetime to forget it.

“What if it was the other way around? You know you wouldn’t have picked me over music.” He kept his gaze on you, almost smiling, despite the situation being completely humourless.

“I certainly would have thought about it.” He answered. You could see he meant it, but you weren’t sure if he understood the implications of what he was saying.

“Okay.” You nodded, acknowledging his answer. “Come to New York with me.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“What?”

“Come to New York with me.” You repeated, refusing to back down. He didn’t need to know you’d likely be staying in Nashville at least for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need to know your bags were packed at your apartment, waiting for you to return just so you could pick them up. Your homecoming was set in stone, but you needed to see if he realized the extent of his answer.

“Things are different, now, y/n.” He said, dismissing the subject.

“Pretend they’re not.” You urged. “Please.”

“I would fly to see you on the weekends. Stay with you as much as I could. But I couldn’t move there.” He said. You nodded along to his words, begging for him to see the issue in his statement.

“What if that’s not good enough? It’s all or nothing, Josh.” You felt your anger that you’d suppressed for so long begin to surface. “It’s me or the band.” You leaned forward, catching his eyes as he tried to look away from you.

“I get it, okay!” He finally exploded, likely feeling the same way you did. “I know what I did wasn’t right. I’ve spent a year and a half trying to forgive myself for it. But you were so caught up in being mad that you didn’t even stop to think about how I felt!” Rarely did you ever see Josh yell, let alone expel frustration the way he was doing in that moment. You were taken back, but not distracted from your feelings.

“Then tell me!” You pleaded. “You wouldn’t even look at me that night! All you said was you didn’t have anything to say to me, but clearly you do, so say it!”

“Fine, you want to hear it?” He asked, leaning forward, too. “I love, but I don’t fall in love with people. Never have. Thought it was too much commitment for such a short lifetime. I spent my entire life completely fine with never settling down. Then I met you, and you changed everything! I didn’t even get to decide whether I fell in love with you or not. By the time I started to realize how much you meant to me, I was already head over heels. I spent every day of my life, for three years, falling more in love with you every day that passed; I changed my whole outlook because you showed up and made me realize maybe I just hadn’t met the right person, and that’s why I never wanted to commit. We moved in together, and I started picturing this life with you, one where you had my last name and we had a few kids. Then you left. You just came home one day and said you were leaving, as if it weren’t an earth-shattering idea. I was so mad because you changed my entire life, and then you took it away!” You understood better, now. He felt abandoned, and you caused it. He never would have admitted it to you then, and he barely wanted to, now. Still, the idea of him thinking you were going to walk away and forget all about him stung like no other.

“I didn’t leave you, Josh. I left Nashville!” You exclaimed. “I never pictured a life without you, and I still don’t! I sit at my apartment alone and hope that maybe you’ll text me, or call, or show up! But you never did, so I had to learn how to deal with it!”

“It was the same thing, y/n! You left me behind for a whole new life. If we didn’t break up that night, we would have anyway!” You’re recoiled as if he’d burned you. “I didn’t call because you were perfectly fine leaving me here! You jumped on that plane and got to start over, and I got to sleep in a bed that haunted me with your presence!”

“It wasn’t the same, Josh.” You shook your head. “I sat at home in that apartment every day when you were touring the world, watching you live your dream from the sidelines. Watching girls throw themselves at you, always wondering if maybe I’d wake up one day and you’d find someone new. I waited for you, watching your life through a phone screen while I worked my shitty 9-5 and settled for video calls whenever you had time for me. Not once did I make you feel like shit about it. But the minute I get a chance at the life I’ve always dreamed of, it was a choice? One or the other? It wasn’t fucking fair, Josh. How was I supposed to stay after that?”

“You started dating me knowing that was my life! I spent three years with you building one of our own, one that we were used to, and comfortable with, one where we were happy. You came home one day and told me you’re getting on a plane and leaving for god knows how long. There was no discussion, I just had to be okay with it!” He was leaning closer with every word. Your faces were inches apart, both of you radiating with anger and on the defensive.

“Of course you were, Josh! You were my boyfriend! I told you I got invited to model in New York Fashion Week, and you made me feel like I didn’t have it in me, like you were already waiting for me to fail and come crawling back to you! You let me walk out that door like the three years we spent together meant nothing to you. Like you were only okay with being in love with me as long as it benefited you.” Tears were brimming in your eyes, the ache of the pain from that night still as prominent as it was a year prior. “You knew how much it meant to me. It was my biggest dream, one that I thought I would never achieve. I finally had a chance to live the life I always wanted, which still in included you, by the way, but you were too stubborn to understand anything other than your hurt. I would have came home every weekend to see you, called you every night, I would have done anything, because you were my whole world! You were supposed to support me, and you left me! I walked out that night, but you made that decision!” The tears spilled on to your cheeks, finally shed after so long holding them back. In the heat of the moment, at the sight of your hurt, he threw the anger and the fighting to the side. Without hesitation, his arms shot out and pulled you into a hug. You didn’t fight, just held him, too. As upset as you were, you knew that his hold was something you’d been longing for the whole time you were apart. The way he felt wrapped around you made you believe that the world was okay; the comfort was an impenetrable force.

“I never wanted to make you feel that way.” He whispered, holding your head securely in his palm. He used his other one to rub circles on your back. “I will always be your biggest fan, even if we never speak again after tonight. I’m so proud of you, and I can’t stress that enough. I was selfish, and I know that. You did so much for me, you always supported me, and I took it for granted. I was hurt when you left, but I never should have let you leave like that. I should have been there for you, cheering you on the same way you did for me.” He hesitated, but placed a kiss to the top of your head. When you didn’t recoil, he took it as a win. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“I am, too.” You said, the tears finally slowing. You pulled back, although quite hesitant in the action. He let you, but didn’t remove his hand from you. Instead, his thumb drifted to your cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen. “It was never from a lack of love, Josh. When it comes to you, that’s not even a possibility. Breaking up with you was never an idea in my head. The distance didn’t scare me, because I knew I loved you enough to work through anything. When you wanted me to choose, I panicked. I was hurt, and I reacted based on that. I shouldn’t have walked out without fixing things. That was my mistake.”

“No, y/n. I shouldn’t have put you in that position, and I never should have let you leave like that. I was hurting and I was scared, I thought you would leave and forget about me. I didn’t want to lose you, but I ended up losing you, anyway, and I still haven’t recovered. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” You leaned into his touch, resting your head on his hand.

“Josh, I fell in love with you the day I met you. That never changed. I still walk around New York City, hoping I run into you, praying it won’t be like this forever. Your memory lives in everything I do; I couldn’t forget about you, even if I wanted to. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You laughed. “You’re the love of my life, whether it was only for a period of time or if we still have a chance. Nobody could ever replace you.”

“I never moved out of the apartment. It’s still decorated the same. It still has little reminders of you, everywhere. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. Jake thinks I’m insane, or I’m torturing myself. I guess I just thought you’d come back for them, someday.” He confessed. “I still love you the same as I did a year ago.”

“Me, too.” You closed your eyes, hoping to hold on to the memory of his words forever. “So we’ve both been waiting for each other to come back this whole time? We’ve just been too stubborn to send a message first?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Both of us watching the others lives through social media, the most impersonal way possible.”

“You looked so happy. I was worried you were happier without me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at the statement.

“See? Impersonal. I’ve been miserable, mama.” Your heart soared at the term of endearment. You reached for your champagne glass, taking a sip, careful not to let your eyes leave him.

“Yeah, me too.” You eventually laughed. “We don’t have to be miserable, anymore. Not tonight, at least.” You said, wanting to blame the advance on the alcohol, but knowing deep down that it was wholly untrue.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He raised an eyebrow. The Josh you knew so well was starting to make an appearance, again. You gave a shrug.

“I have a room upstairs with free room service. King bed, too.” He looked at you with intrigue, wanting to jump at the chance but still being afraid your judgement was clouded. He didn’t want you to regret it in the morning.

“There’s probably still a lot we could get off our chests. Did you want to talk more, first? I just want you to be sure this is what you want.” You stood, drinking the last of the liquid from your glass and moving on to the next.

“Fuck, Josh, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. We can figure it out in the morning. I haven’t had sex in a year and a half, and I’m tired of waiting. I want you.” He took a deep inhale at the words, fighting the urge to take your clothes off right there. He stood, too, grabbing his own champagne glasses. He had no fight left in him, because he wanted you just as bad.

“Lead the way, mama.” For a moment, things felt right. Like no time had passed and you were both the same people as you were before all of the hurt. You turned on your heels, heading back to the door you came through, earlier. He was hot on your trail, not willing to let you leave his sight.

You slipped back inside, noticing the speeches had come to a close and the lights were off. The music was louder and the mood lighting really set the tone for the rest of the night. If you weren’t in such an entanglement, you thought you might enjoy it. But, you were certain that the nights events would top whatever enjoyment the ballroom could give you. You dropped off your empty glasses on the way by, watching Josh discard his, too. You reached out for him, looking back over your shoulder. He tangled his fingers with yours, over the moon at the feeling after so long without it. You guided him to the exit, managing to sneak out without too many curious glances. Liz, however, noticed you as soon as you came back inside. Josh’s brothers did, too. All of them were well aware that it wasn’t over between the two of you, and it never would be. They were waiting for the reunion just as much as the two of you were.

You both ran down the hallway to the elevator, giggles slipping out intermittently. When the doors opened, allowing you inside, Josh jumped at the moment of seclusion. His hand found your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His free hand guided your chin upwards, finally taking the chance to lean down and kiss you. You melted into the feeling, closing your eyes in bliss. It was sweet, no provocative nature present. Just both of you savouring the moment in which you’d been denied of for months. When the ding signified your destination was reached, his wandering hands were reluctant to pull away. Thankfully, your room wasn’t too far away, meaning he wouldn’t have to wait too long to continue.

You keyed into your room, barely getting the door closed before he was back on you. You both kicked off your shoes, leading him further inside before things got too heated. You parted from him to click on the lamp by your bedside. He took the chance to admire you, now. No more residual tension was clouding his vision. “You look stunning, y/n.” You turned to him, a smile on your lips.

“You look pretty good yourself, Joshua.” He approached again, slower and more cautious. He raised his hand to your cheek, brushing away all of the hair obscuring the sight of your face.

“Has it really been that long?” He didn’t need to clarify; you knew what he was asking. You gave a nod, hoping you didn’t have to dive into it too far. In truth, you didn’t want to hear a submission of guilt from him. If he’d been with other people in your time apart, it was his free will, and you couldn’t be upset about it. There was no disloyalty of any kind, but you certainly didn’t want to imagine it.

“I guess it never felt right. Always felt like I was still yours, I think.” You shrugged. He smiled at the words, overjoyed at the profession.

“Me either,” he said, running his thumb over your cheek. “I was always yours, too.” You let out a sigh of relief, almost feeling the need to cry again. The entire night felt so surreal, almost as if you were dreaming.

“God, please tell me this is real life. I don’t want to wake up disappointed.” You pleaded. He chuckled, finding the statement quite cute.

“It’s real, mama. Trust me, I feel the same way.” He leaned down, kissing you once more. Your hand reached for him, landing somewhere on his side. You didn’t care where it landed, only that you were touching him again. “Sounds like we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” He stated, pulling back just enough to get the words out. A laugh fell from your lips, one that was quiet and still laced with disbelief. “Turn around for me.” You obliged, spinning to face the other direction.

His fingers drifted over your exposed skin, gathering your hair and pushing it to the side. He unzipped your dress, gently brushing the silk straps from your shoulders. He leaned forward pressing his lips to the spots they once graced. You let out a hum of delight, closing your eyes at the sensation. He let you decide whether you wanted to let the fabric fall, and you did. It dropped with as much elegance as it held while you adorned it on your body. He bent down, waiting for you to step away from it. Once you did, he cautiously picked it from the ground, gently laying it over the chair by the bedside. Once it was safely out of the way, he finally turned to look at you again. His breath caught in his throat, completely taken off guard at the sight of you naked before him once again.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, taking a step towards you. You were standing, completely naked aside from your underwear, at full disposal for whatever he chose to do with you. There was no worry in your body; the minute his hands found you again, you were certain you’d found home, again. After so long wandering through life, gaining success but never really feeling like you belonged, it made sense again. All of the money and the fame was satisfying, but never fulfilling. His touch reminded you of why everybody loved to say money can’t buy happiness. There was no financial value that would ever equate to the feeling of being loved by Josh. If you were put on earth for a purpose, it was to be loved by him, and to love him. Nobody could look at you and see right into your soul the way he could; he knew every part of you without even looking or having to ask. “Lay down, baby.” He insisted.

You allowed him to guide you down on the bed, your head finding home in the nest of pillows. He rid himself of his jacket, and his shirt wasn’t long following. You watching him in awe, not being able to comprehend how one boy could posses so much beauty. It was in everything he did, his words, his actions, his appearance. He was perfect. He slipped out of his pants, climbing in bed with you. He pulled you into his arms, just enjoying the intimacy for a moment. Eventually, you were both stripped naked and tangled in each others limbs. As heated as the journey to your room was, sex was no longer the most pressing thought in your heads. You found yourself lost in chatter, laughing and giggling at stories you’d been longing to tell each other for the last year. In between, there were stolen kisses; some short, and others laced with neediness. No sexual gratification would compare to the emotional connection you started to restore.

Eventually, he found himself laying between your legs, mouth exploring the spots on your neck he was aching to reunite with. Every so often, his teeth or tongue would grace over a sensitive area, pushing a breathy moan from your lips. The sounds were heavenly, ones he thought he’d never get the chance to hear again. “I want you, Josh.” You sighed, finally growing restless after the hours of relentless teasing.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.” He hummed against your collarbone.

“You. I don’t care, anything, please.” You sighed, not caring about the desperation. You felt him smile against you, clearly pleased with the state you were in.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked, fingers ghosting over your rib cage, sending a jolt of electricity through.

“Please,” he brought the pad of his thumb to your nipple, brushing it over you. He watched as you drew in a shaky breath. If there was one thing you knew about Josh, it was that he loved viewing sex as a marathon. If you were to let him, he’d go all night, dragging it out as much as possible. Tonight, you couldn’t take it. He could tell how you were feeling without you saying it aloud, not finding it in himself to push you any further. He let his hand drift downwards, shifting his weight onto one side so he had better access to you. He slipped his fingers between your legs, running them through you and getting a feel for your arousal. Your back arched at the feeling, it was familiar yet almost foreign.

“All of this for me, pretty girl?” He asked, running your wetness up to your clit. He slowly rubbed circles, just light enough to allow you to adjust to the feeling. You muttered a curse under your breath, almost having forgotten how acquainted he was with your body. His fingers kept a steady pace, gradually applying more pressure as he continued on. His eyes remained on your face, wishing to engrave your expression into every part of his brain so he could never forget it.

As his hand explored you, his lips did, too. His mouth drifted across your exposed stomach, trailing kisses all over the skin. Eventually, he worked his way up to your breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth and tongue over it, begging for a reaction. When he heard a whine fall from your lips, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. He slipped his finger down towards your entrance, moving his thumb to your clit in place. He pushed his middle and ring finger inside you, starting at an agonizingly slow pace. His thumb brushed over your clit with every pump of his fingers. The sensation was much more intense than you remembered it, maybe because of the depravity of the feeling, or because you missed him so much.

The sex was slow, much slower than it used to be. Both of you wanted to savour the experience as much as you could. But the praise, the words, even the way he worshiped you like you were the most beautiful thing to walk the earth was all the same. Neither of you allowed any of the negativity to change the way you appreciated each other. You’d been with plenty of people before Josh, but never any who loved you in the way he did. Every touch was sacred, filled with love and tenderness, even if the act wasn’t supposed to feel that way. As stupid as you felt about waiting so long for him, you were thankful you did. Nobody could make you feel the way he did. The wait just resulted in the usual pleasure being escalated by a thousand.

“Does that feel good, mama?” He asked, finally pausing his assault on your breasts. He looked up to you, eyelids heavy and lust clouding his pupils.

“So good, Josh.” You sighed, looking down to meet his gaze. He gave you a lazy smile, content at the confirmation.

“Did you miss me?” He questioned, his tone dropping slightly. He curled his fingers upward with the next movement, causing a gasp to fall from you. “Hmm?” He hummed, still waiting for you to answer.

“Missed you so much.” You admitted, eyelids fluttered closed at the pleasure he was causing.

“Think she missed me, too.” He muttered, eyes flowing down towards his hand working into your cunt. You swallowed hard at the words, taken off guard by the cockiness but knowing he was speaking truth. His jaw clenched, clearly pleased with the sight. He was good at putting his pleasure aside to ensure yours, but you knew him well enough to recognize what his expression meant. He’d been depraved of this, too, and the view was driving him insane. “Right?” He asked for clarification, his chest rising at his deep inhale.

“Yeah,” you whispered, a pressure beginning to build in your belly.

“She knows she belongs to me.” He hummed. Your face flushed at the statement, unsure where the possessiveness was coming from. That was something quite new; before, he always acted as though the access to your body was a gift. The simple statement dripped with entitlement, but you didn’t mind. He was right. No matter how much distance between you, or how much time passed, you were his. You didn’t mind the claim in the slightest. In fact, you enjoyed it.

“Fuck, Josh,” you let your head fall back on the pillows, the knot in your stomach tightening more with every second that passed.

“Yeah?” He beamed, knowing exactly what the warning was for. “Look at me, mama. Wanna see that pretty face while you cum.” He pleaded. You were in no state to deny him the request, eyes falling back on him. He was watching you, desperate to see your expression. His movements remained steady, gently coaxing the orgasm from you. Your mouth fell open slightly, a sharp inhale sounding as the pressure peaked and sent you into a down-spiral. You managed his name through the intense wave of moans, eyes squeezed shut and all of your muscles tensed. He rode you through it, whispering notes of encouragement as you were clenched around his hand.

When you relaxed against him, he let out a long breath. The tail end dissolved into a groan, absolutely floored at the sight he had just experienced. “Was that good, baby?” He asked, slowly pulling his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss of contact, still yearning for more.

“So, so good, Josh.” You didn’t mind fuelling his ego, because it was well deserved. At first, you wanted to blame the quickness of your orgasm on the length of time it had been since you had one. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Josh had the ability to make you cum simply by looking at you with enough intent. It had everything to do with him, and you knew nobody else could ever affect you in the same way.

“Can’t believe you had nobody to take care of you for so long,” he let out a disapproving tsk, slowly sinking down further on the bed. “All of those New York boys really missed out.” His soft lips grazed over the inside of your thigh. “A woman like you deserves more than that.” His teeth sunk into the flesh, causing you to jump at the sudden sensation. “What was it, mama? Couldn’t find anyone to fuck you right?” Your jaw clenched at the profanity of his statement. You were well aware that he was only messing with you just for show, so you played into his game.

“Mhm,” you agreed. “Nobody could fuck me like you, Josh.” You told him, lowering your tone. The muscle in his jaw tensed at the confession.

“No?” He asked, lips dangerously close to your heat. “My poor baby.” He sympathized, his facial hair gently tickling the skin of your legs. “I’ll always treat you right, honey.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, agreeing with him.

“Y’know I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Always fuck you like you just how you like it.” The teasing was torturous; you needed him more than you needed water. It wasn’t a desire, it was necessary for survival.

“I know you will, baby.” You breathed, your sultry tone quickly dissolving into whiny.

“That’s why you’ll always come home to me, right?” He asked, dipping his head even closer to your cunt. “You know who you belong to, beautiful.” You gave a nod of desperation. “Wanna hear you say it, mama.”

“You, Josh. I’m all yours. Only yours.” You promised. A smile graced his face.

“Sounds so pretty when you say it like that.” He was trying not to sound needy himself; his mouth was practically watering at the sight before him. He almost felt wrong teasing you in such a way, because he was certain he was more desperate for you than he’d ever been. “I’d treat you better than that. I’d fuck you every day if I could, just to make sure you know what you deserve. Just to make sure you were happy.” He explained, feeling his guilt resurface. You felt your heart ache at the statement, the words reminding you that as good as you felt, things weren’t the same as they used to be. He saw the emotion flash across your face, realizing how his statement may have come off in a context he didn’t intend. “I can, and I will, if you’ll let me.” He let down the act for a moment, fully letting you see into his heart.

“Yeah,” you managed to muster out. “I’d like that.” He couldn’t hold back the look of happiness that forced its way onto his face.

“Be mine again, baby. Promise I’ll make up for everything. I’ll never let you get away again.” He whispered, but he was pleading with you. There was no way he could walk away from you after this. It would kill him.

“Okay,” you agreed, no hesitation present. It wasn’t the alcohol, or the sex talking. You wanted him, and you were certain of that before you’d even spoken to him. Maybe everybody else was right, you thought. This wasn’t one of those things that you couldn’t walk away from. If you did, you’d be 80 years old and still wondering what it would be like to love him again. When it came to Josh, it was never over. Just a wrong turn that ultimately led you back to the same destination.

He let the thought settle in his soul; no more yearning for someone he wasn’t sure he would ever have again. The universe had granted him another chance, and he’d be damned if he took it for granted a second time. You were his again, and he was yours, as if that was ever untrue in the first place. He wasted no more time, slipping his arms under your thighs and pulling you down on his mouth. He let his tongue run through you, savouring the feeling and moaning against you. He was eating you as if he was a starved man offered his first meal in weeks. In his eyes, he was. Being depraved of the home he’d found between your legs was a terrible feeling, and he never wanted to feel it again.

You let a moan out, your hands snaking down to his hair. You noticed the lack of it on the sides, understanding that it would be hard to get used to. Instead of focusing on the difference, you tangled your fingers in the hair still atop his head, losing yourself to the familiarity of his tongue. You couldn’t help but admire him through the waves of pleasure, the way he got enjoyment out of making you feel good, how pretty he looked with his head nestled between your thighs. You noticed the way his hips would grind into the mattress, just enough to give him a bit of relief, or the way he was completely lost in you, not having a notice for anything other that what was in front of him. You had no doubt he would stay there forever, if you let him.

He pulled back for a moment, just to catch another look of your face. “Taste so good, baby. Even better than I remember.” He slipped his thumb in place of his tongue, just so he didn’t lose the progress he was making. “Missed having you like this. Thought about it every fucking night.”

“I thought about it too, all of the time.” You sighed, mesmerized by the emotion he adorned in his eyes. He returned his other fingers to you, pumping them in time with his thumb for a moment. He studied you for a while before he returned to work with his mouth. The combined feeling of him pumping his fingers into you, and his tongue focused on your clit was overwhelming.

You were nearing a second orgasm, desperate for him to keep going. He could sense it in your breathing, the tugs at his hair, and the profanities you were expelling every so often. He remained steady, curling his fingers every so often in attempt to find the spot inside you he knew so well. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, causing your hips to buck forward. He didn’t have to say it aloud for you to know he enjoyed it; a groan produced from deep in his chest, his fingers attempting to get the same reaction from you again. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything other than the knot tightening in your belly.

“Josh,” you breathed, a verbal warning that you were close. He hummed against you, encouraging you. Your head fell back, blissfully unaware of anything other than the feeling of his tongue. Soon after, you were coming undone again, crying his name and quickly dissolving into a mess. He coaxed you through it, more dedicated to making you feel good rather than getting the satisfaction of seeing your face.

When you came down, he didn’t ease up; his tongue was still determined, fingers never slowing. Even in the burning oversensitivity, you couldn’t help but still enjoy the moment. You were certain that after 18 long months, he could cause you nothing but physical pain and you’d still enjoy it, just because he was the one doing it. Part of you wished he never had to stop, because you never wanted to come down from the high of the intimacy. The overpowering sensation was driving you insane, the previous orgasm never really having a chance to dissipate before the next began to bloom. The noises you were making were filthy, pornographic, almost. Josh was almost praying the walls were thinner than they appeared, cocky enough to know how good he was making you feel and egotistical enough to want everyone to know it.

When your third orgasm was begging you to let go, you couldn’t even get the words out to warn him. Your knuckles were white against the hold on his hair, all of your muscles rigid and lungs aching for a full breath. It took little time for you to reach your peak, panting heavily and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. This time, he slowed his movements as your body relaxed. He removed his tongue first, followed by his fingers once he knew you were back to earth. “There you go, mama.” He sighed. His lips ghosted over your torso as he inched his way up your body. “That’s all you needed, hmm?” He hummed, sucking a few marks into your collarbone. “Someone to take care of you,” his head nuzzled back into the crook of your neck, mouth exploring the area once again. “Someone who knows how to make you feel good?” His moustache tickled the sensitive skin, causing a tired giggle to fall from you. You could feel him smile against you in response to the sound.

“I want you, Josh.” You said. As fantastic as he was making you feel, your patience was non-existent. It had been too long since you’d had him, and you didn’t feel willing to wait any longer. He lifted his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face for a moment. His lips upturned into a smirk, likely feeling similar.

“You want me?” He whispered, already shifting between your legs for a better position. You gave him a nod. “How bad, beautiful?”

“So bad, baby. It’s been so long.” You admitted, not willing to challenge him in the slightest. His fingers gently grazed over your hips, a moment of innocent love before such a dirty act. He pulled you towards him, grabbing your legs and guiding them over his shoulders. The excitement brewing in your stomach was barely containable.

“Been so good for me, mama. Won’t make you wait any longer.” He promised. You felt his hand leave you, moving down to guide himself towards your entrance. Without another word, he pushed himself inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling at peace with each other. The battle of experiencing so much pent up love with nowhere to channel it had come to an end; the solution to the issue being clear the whole time, but only now was it truly acknowledged. You needed each other, and no distance would change that. There was no separation or heartbreak big enough to rid yourselves of the connection you had. You both knew that before the night dissolved into the current situation, but it was only solidified further once you both felt what it was like to be reunited in such a way. There was no way you could walk away from each other again.

His hips moved slowly, the only motive being the need to feel the closeness. The movements were barely stimulating, but more than pleasurable to you both. “God, y/n.” He hissed, sucking in a long breath through his teeth. He pulled you closer to him by your thighs, thrusting as he did so and causing a gasp from you. “Feel so fucking good.” He picked up the pace, realizing he was only torturing you both. The memory of him inside you was nothing in comparison to the real thing. The angle allowed the tip of his cock to brush your cervix, sending a jolt of electricity through you each time. “Wish I could have you like this forever.”

“Me, too.” You groaned, your hand reaching out in desperation for his. He met your gesture, pulling your hand into his and resting them on your thigh. His eyes were closed, intently focusing on his movements, making sure he kept a steady rhythm. The low light of the lamp was casted over his face, allowing you to really admire his beauty. The slight furrow of his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw as he fucked into you, his lips that always looked so soft and inviting. He was a masterpiece, and you felt lucky to even be able to experience him in such a way. His free hand found your breast, at first just a gentle acknowledgment, but then he took your nipple between his fingers and applied a bit of pressure. The shock lit up your face, causing him to give you a small smirk. As much as he loved to please you, he loved to be an asshole, too.

It was all in the nature of the relationship; the time that passed didn’t change the dynamic. You both still seemed to be on the same wavelength, remembering what the other liked, incorporating small humorous expressions and actions to lighten the intensity. You were grateful that he was still so familiar to you. It took the nervousness away, and made sex feel lighthearted and carefree. There was never a worry of embarrassment or fear of judgement. He was your best friend, still, after everything, and he was making sure you knew that. The same goofy, sweet boy from the beginning.

You could tell he was growing bored with the position. As much as he loved the feeling, you knew what he wanted, and you were fully willing to give it to him. “Lay down,” you told him. His eyes connected with yours, an unspoken question of certainty. You gave a nod, and he didn’t wasn’t any time pulling out of you. He collapsed onto the bed beside you, turning towards you and practically pulling you on top of him. He had a grin plastered across his face, cheeks a bit rosy and eyelids heavy.

“You know me so well.” He said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“You act like you’re the only one who enjoys this position.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know you do, but I really like it.” His excitement was clear in his face. You couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t have to do any work.” You joked, securing your legs on either side of him. You lifted yourself up, reaching down to guide him back into you.

“No, ‘cause you look so pretty on top of me.” He answered, tone of voice matching yours. His hands found your hips, slowly bringing you down on him. “I’d be happy to do the work as long as I get to see you like this.” You couldn’t find the words to reply, already lost in the new position, revelling in the angle and depth he was reaching inside you. You began to roll your hips on him, slowly catching up to speed. “Oh, and because I can do this, now.” He reached around, pinching your ass between his index finger and his thumb. Your eyes widened, giving him a look of bewilderment. He gave a chuckle, keeping his hand there and gently running his thumb over the spot he’d just hurt.

“Not being very nice to someone who’s trying to get you off,” you grumbled. He erupted into a real laugh, giving his head a small shake.

“Don’t have to try very hard, mama. Never did.” He joked, but there was a hint of truth to the statement. “But, I suppose I could be a little nicer. Since you’re being so good to me.” He brought his free hand up to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes in content. You were still moving your hips, just enough to satisfy the craving while he joked with you. It felt so natural, so familiar. It felt like home.

“You’ll be nice for a while, then you’ll do something to piss me off again. It’s just what you do.” You giggled, remembering his constant antics to get on your nerves. It was intolerable by times, but always in the most loving and sincere way possible.

“You love me.” He stated, in a completely relaxed, natural way. Your breath caught in your throat at the word, surprised that it made an appearance again so soon. He said it as if he’d never stopped saying it in the first place. He finally noticed what he said, expression losing its humour almost instantly. “I hope you do, at least.” He mumbled.

“I do,” you whispered, nodding your head. “I really do.” You were overcome with emotion, swallowing back the tears begging to be shed at the statement. The high intensity of the emotions in the room were unimaginable, and they hadn’t subsided all night. A small smile graced his lips as a laugh filled with relief sounded from him.

“God, it’s been so long since I’ve heard you say that.” He guided your head down, connecting your mouths in a gesture of gratitude. “Too long.” He mumbled against your lips. You pulled back just enough to speak clearly.

“I’ll say it again, if you really want me to.” You grinned.

“Please, baby.” He begged, wanting to hear the actual words.

“I love you,” you breathed, happy to finally be able to tell him again.

“I love you.” He replied, bringing you into another kiss, much more desperate than the last. As he did so, he suddenly seemed to remember where you were and what you were in the middle of. Without breaking away from you, he thrusted upwards with force. The impact caused you to let a moan slip into his mouth, only fuelling him further. You raised your hips slightly, allowing him to move with ease. He took it as an invitation, repeating his earlier action and continuing with a steady pace.

You parted with him, catching your breath. You straightened up, placing a hand on his chest to support your balance as he fucked you. You let out a slur of curses, indirect praise for the work he was doing. You moved your hips in time with his, greedy for more. He dropped his hands back to your waist, fingers gripping at the flesh like he’d gone feral. As much as you liked to tease him, you liked the position just as much as he did. There was something that drove you crazy about him under you, the freedom of his hands in which he used expertly. Plus, the pleasure he got from it fuelled yours, too. You were certain you could spend the rest of your life doing nothing but pleasing him and be happy while doing it.

His hips stuttered and he let out a low groan, the telltale sign he was getting close. It had been a long time for both of you, the stamina barely existing on either part. He held you still, wordlessly telling you to slow down. You fought against the hold, not caring if he came or not. In fact, you were hoping he would. He’d been generous in the orgasm department with you, and you were eager to do the same for him. “Slow down, mama.” He warned.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

“Don’t want it to be over yet.” He admitted, catching your gaze.

“S’okay, baby.” You repeated. “I have this room all weekend.” He eyed you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, like he was already thinking about the luxury of fucking you again. Like he was making a list of how many places around the room he could have you in. In a split-second decision, his fingers shot to your clit, finding it without any issue.

“Gotta cum with me, then. You know the rules.” He ordered. You have a nod, a hum of pleasure sounding straight from your chest. He stopped your movements, allowing him to set the pace and ensuring his hand didn’t slip from you, either. You locked your hips in place, fully allowing him to do as he pleased with you.

You both knew it wouldn’t take long; the joys of knowing each other so well meant that you knew exactly what to do. He kept his movement steady and consistent, uttering small praise as you allowed him to work at you. The noises falling from your lips graced his ears and settled deep in his chest, begging him to never forget them. “Look at me,” he wanted to sound authoritative, but he was nowhere close to it. Still, you obliged. You caught his eyes, finding yourself lost in them as soon as you did. “Come on, mama. Cum for me.” He begged, both of you knowing he couldn’t last much longer. The intensity grew with each second that passed, your head spinning with pleasure.

“M’gonna,” you moaned, promising to fulfill his request. He let out a groan, the end dissolving into a bit of a growl. The sound alone seemed to be enough to do it for you. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, your climax hitting you hard. You kept a steady hold on his chest, your other hand reaching for his arm for support. He didn’t have the ability to coax you through it; his cock twitched inside you, the sight of you coming undone sending him over the edge. He held you down on him as he spilled his release into you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips with a promise of lasting bruises. When he came back down from the high, you were both breathless and seeing stars. He released his grip on you, guiding you down to lay on him. “My beautiful girl,” he sighed, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you so much.” You confessed, focusing on the drum of his heartbeat against his chest.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” He admitted, letting his fingers run through your hair. He sounded tired, enveloped in comfort and peace. “I thought about you every day. You never left my mind.”

“I’m sorry I left, Josh. I didn’t want to leave you. Especially like that.”

“I know, mama. I’m sorry for trying to make you stay. It wasn’t fair. I should have supported you no matter what.” He gently scratched your head. You closed your eyes, fully immersed in the intimacy. “I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I was lucky enough to get a second chance, and I want to do it right, this time.”

“Me, too.” You agreed. “I never want to lose you again. It was a horrible year without you. Yeah, I did great stuff, made a name for myself, but it didn’t really mean a whole lot without someone to share the excitement with. Everybody was talking about me, but I had nobody to talk to. It was lonely without my best friend.”

“I know what you mean. Great things happened, I’m proud of what we accomplished, but I just wanted to be able to come home and tell you all about it. Every time I realized I couldn’t, it all just lost its shine.” You smiled at the statement, thinking he worded it perfectly. Life was fine without Josh, survivable in the least, but he made everything shine. He gave everything just a little bit more novelty. It was dull without him. Lacklustre, even. “Was it too soon to say I love you again?” He asked, finally airing out his anxiety.

“I think I was shocked, hearing it again after so long, but I don’t think it was wrong to say it. We never really stopped being in love; all of it was still there, it just had nowhere to go. If anything, I’m happy you still feel that way, too. Made me feel less stupid.” He didn’t respond, but you could practically feel him smiling. “You never moved out of the apartment?” You remembered he had said it earlier, but you wanted to clarify that you’d heard him right.

“No. Never changed it, either. There’s still shampoo bottles in the shower that belong to you, clothes in the closet, our pictures on the wall. I think I always hoped you’d come back home. Wanted you to know it was still yours, if you ever did.” Your heart ached at his words. You’d both been so stupid, suffering for so long that you both forced yourself to believe you’d forgotten about each other. “And it is. I mean, still yours, if you ever want to come back.” His free hand drifted over your back, fingertips gently ticking the exposed skin. “I know you have a career in New York, and I understand if you can’t, or you don’t want to. If you ever do want to, or change your mind, I’d be more than happy.”

“Thank you,” you wanted to express it in the most sincere way possible. The knowledge that he still wanted you there with him was extremely comforting. You didn’t mind the idea, either.

“But, for now, I’m happy to fly out and see you whenever I can. I’ll call every night, just like I should have from the beginning. I’ll never let you think I forgot about you ever again, or that I don’t believe in you, because neither of those are true.” You placed a kiss to his chest, finally feeling ready to tell him the news. You would have, anyway, but knowing he was willing to make it work even if you lived so far away made it impossible not to tell him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could give me my key back.” You grinned. His lax stature immediately changed, pulling back just so he could look to see if you were joking. “Now that the line is releasing, and the outlet store is opening here, I’m gonna be in Nashville for a while. On and off, sometimes, but here for the foreseeable future, at least.” The look on his face made it seem like you’d just told him he won the lottery. “I was kind of dreading staying in a hotel, or having to hunt for another lonely apartment.”

“Are you serious?” He asked, still catching up to speed.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’d really like to come home, Josh. If that’s what you want, of course.” You felt that the need to go through the motions of dating again were quite silly, especially since you’d spent most of your adult life with him. The brief pause when you were gone didn’t really mean too much. You’d both changed, but clearly not enough to become anything close to strangers.

“Of course I do!” He wrapped you up in a hug, holding you like he’d never get the chance to, again. You both dissolved into a fit of giggles, excited at the idea of building a life together, again.

“I know you have to tour, and that’s okay. I’ll have to be in New York sometimes, too. I can come visit you, wherever you are. If you get some free time, you can come see me, or we can meet in the middle. I don’t care where that is, because if I’m with you, I’m home.” If it was possible to hold you tighter, he did just that. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he mumbled, words muffled due to his face being buried in your hair. “So much, mama.”

“I do think we should probably get cleaned up, though.” You eased into the idea, realizing the state you were both still in.

“A shower?” He asked, hidden implications written all over the question.

“Sure,” you laughed, sitting upright. “But we should do it, like now.”

You both made your way into the bathroom, getting in the shower and cleaning yourselves off. The night turned into the early hours of the morning, but sleep refused to come to either of you. You were too caught up in the stories, the jokes, and the touches, and the sex to care about anything else. More than anything, you were both just content finally being back in each others company. The sunrise barely put a damper on your night of reunion, because you were too immersed in each other to notice it. Too immersed in the overwhelming feeling of finally being at home after an unexplainably long, tiresome day.

#greta van fleet #danny gvf #gvf #jake kiszka #sam gvf #danny wagner #jake gvf #josh gvf #sam kiszka #gvf fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet angst #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka angst #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #gvf imagine #gvf x reader #josh kiszka x reader #gvf fluff #greta van fleet fic #fanfic #my writing #mine #builtbybrokenbells #writing

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: The Shadow of the Past

"The blame was mostly laid on Gandalf." Whatever you did, you've been officially labeled a Disturber of the Peace...

Something about "but the growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable" cracks me up

I love the fact that Frodo kept throwing birthday parties for Bilbo after he left. It's so sweet.

I would much rather go to Frodo’s Hundred-weight Feast than Bilbo’s Party of Special Magnificence, actually; twenty guests and several meals “at which it snowed food and rained drink” sounds much more my speed X-D

“Bilbo isn’t dead.” “Where is he then?” “🤷‍♂️”

F in the chat for Folco Boffin, who was mentioned like once in this chapter and never comes into the story again

"Merry and Pippin suspected that [Frodo] visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done." TEA???

Frodo's wandering in the autumn has such an evocative and melancholy feeling to it. So much so that I wrote a poem about it last year...

Part Two of me wishing the movies could have shown the Dwarves passing through the Shire on their way to the Blue Mountains

Sam be like "Dragons and Ents are real, I tell you!" and Ted Sandyman like "press X to doubt"

Our first glimpse of Sam's unassailable trust in Frodo and his wisdom 💚

And now! Exposition dumping, with Gandalf.

I hate the fact that I can't see or hear the word Eregion without getting war flashbacks to Amazon's Rings of Poopy

Ooh, remind me to write an essay about the invisibility power of the Ring(s)...

"[Bilbo] would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would be a danger." Oh boy, would you look at the time, it's Crying About Adoptive Relationships O'clock

"'There wasn't any permanent harm done, was there?' asked Frodo anxiously. 'He would get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in peace, I mean.'" OH BOY, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME—

Literally Gandalf: "Hobbits are my special interest"

"It is quite cool." It sure is, Gandalf. Wicked. Radical, even.

Low-hanging fruit, I know, but I had to 🤣

Speaking of low-hanging fruit, here's a joke I made two years ago about the "until Spring had passed into Winter" line:

He threw a luau barbecue one breezy summer night/Invited all his turtle pals to come and have a wiki bite/The turtles started walkin' there as Lance began to swing/The one that lived across the street arrived there in the spring...!

"I wish it need not have happened in my time." "So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Still a line that goes so, so hard, right in the middle of this exposition dump.

I like how in Gandalf's story, he makes Deagol talk normally, but Smeagol still has all those verbal idiosyncrasies that are iconic to Gollum.

I'm still trying to remember who it was that pointed out that the last syllable of Smeagol is the first syllable of Gollum. Blew my mind when I saw that, I tell ya.

"I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought." "It is not." 🤣🤣🤣

The thought of Gollum creeping through a window to snatch a baby from a cradle and eat it is at least seventeen different kinds of Not Fun. Thanks, Tolkien.

I have very little to say about Gandalf's retelling of the Ring's story—and Frodo's frightened and naive questions—except that it's almost as hard to tear your eyes away from the book as it is for Frodo to throw the Ring into the fire.

"I do really wish to destroy it! Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests." Oh, Frodo, bby...

I love how Sam's spying is so artfully foreshadowed here X-D You just go whistling away down that path, buddy! Nobody suspects a thing!

All Frodo has to say is "I suppose I'll have to go running into danger alone to keep everything and everyone I love safe, even if it means never coming home again; it's a pity, but I'll do it" and Gandalf is like "Frodo have I mentioned lately how much I love you and hobbits in general". Which. Mood! Big mood!

SUDDENLY, SAMWISE GAMGEE!

Good gracious did I need Sam and his comic relief after this heavy chapter X-D Bless you, Sam, you loveable dummy

I wonder what hobbit idiom Tolkien "translated" into "Lor bless you, sir". I'm not sure the hobbits have a concept of Eru Illuvatar as a benevolent God who hands out blessings; and if they do, I somehow doubt they'd have quaint little figures of speech like this. But I'm just nitpicking at this point because it's fun.

"There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact." SAM 🤣🤣

"Mr. Frodo, sir! Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so." Have I mentioned that I love the heck out of Sam?

Frodo is "hardly able to keep from laughing", which, MOOD!

Sam heard that Mr. Frodo was going away and audibly choked. GAH I love him so much

Frodo sure knows how to threaten Sam LOL

"If you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes." 🤣🤣

"'Me, sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. 'Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears." Oh, Sam. I love you.

#chapter review #frodo baggins #gandalf #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

#peaky blinders #shelby sister #sister shelby #shelby!sister #sister!shelby #shelby sis #shelby sister imagine #sister shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #polly gray #polly gray x reader #ada shelby #cillian murphy #castle in the sky #the shelby clan

[emeren]

Mmm maybe eren walking in on the reader using a vibrator and offering to help her and over stimulating her..

you got it! here it comes :)

red handed - eren jaeger 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: smut, 18+, masturbation, overstimulation, crying

notes: this one was fun to write, it was my first time writing about a vibrator so idk if it’s that good but i hope you all enjoy nevertheless! <3

you sighed to yourself, anxiously glancing at the clock. your roommate had informed you he wouldn’t be back until around nine; the numbers 7:30 blinking back at you expectantly. there was no way he’d be home early; eren was late to nearly everything he did. 

deciding to move into a small, crappy apartment with your childhood best friend had seemed like a good idea at the time. you and eren knew each other forwards and backwards; right side up and upside down. 

what you didn’t know was just how needy eren could be. he hated being bored more than anything in the world. he was always lingering, always pestering you to go do something. he would sometimes just walk into your room and stand there, asking you what you were doing and if you wanted to hangout. 

most of the time you didn’t mind. most of the time. but there were instances where the lack of a lock on both your bedroom and bathroom doors became an issue.

instances where the pent up hormones became too much to bear and you had to relieve yourself, quickly and quietly. 

you thanked your lucky stars that eren had decided to go out with some friends tonight. you’d finally be able to enjoy a moment of bliss for the first time in well over two weeks. 

after double checking that the front door was locked and peaking your head into eren’s room to make extra sure he was gone, you skipped to your own space with an air of giddiness. finally some alone time!

you softly closed the door behind you, turning to look at your beside table. pulling the small drawer open and rifling through various pieces of junk, your eyes landed on the small, inconspicuous piece of plastic. 

you’d come to realize that your hand wasn’t quick enough to combat eren’s nosey nature, and after a few near misses, you invested in your very first vibrator. 

it was a light pink color; just nearly longer than your middle finger. you picked it up carefully before plunking down on your hard mattress. you shifted so your back was pressed against the head board, knees slightly bent. 

you could feel yourself aching in anticipation, cold hand slipping past the hem of your pajama pants to press the plastic device against your clit. your thumb moved to click the on button, halting as you heard a floorboard creak from out in the hall. 

“ugh,” you muttered to yourself, trying to quell your paranoia. “eren’s not gonna be home for at least an hour.” 

you paused for a minute longer, ears straining. when you were met with just the distant sound of sirens, you allowed yourself to continue, clicking the button. the soft vibration buzzed against your nerves, breath hitching involuntarily at the sudden pleasure. 

it was a wonderful feeling; your chest heaving as your lower half embraced the foreign object. you leaned your head back against the wall, shifting to a more comfortable position as you bent your knees for better leverage. 

your mind began to wander, an image of eren popping into your brain. a few years ago, you would’ve cringed and banished the thought away, but you’d come to acknowledge there was no denying just how attractive your best friend was, no matter how guilty it made you feel. 

you pictured his muscular back, leaned over the sink as he washed dishes with a pair of black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. you could feel your face heat, closing your eyes as the pressure within the pit of your stomach began to build. 

it was easy to reach your breaking point with the vibrator; breath growing shallow as the image of eren’s muscular arms and defined v-line started to fog your mind. you exhaled out through your nose, the gentle buzzing making your clit twitch with desired release. 

you were so wrapped up, so distracted. it was the single moment of bliss right before your orgasm, face hot and hands clammy. 

you’d never let your mind wander so far before, but you were beginning to imagine eren touching you; letting his hands wander down your skin and caressing your curves, squeezing and- 

“what’re you doing?” a voice startled you from the moment of peace, replaced by an overwhelming embarrassment as your eyes snapped open, focusing on the tall figure leaning against the open doorframe. 

eren’s arms were crossed, face shadowed as he observed you. you quickly sat up, pulling your vibrator from your pants and clicking it off. the pace of your heartbeat was through the roof, eyes wide and chest tight. how fucking embarrassing! 

“i’m- i was-,” you were at a loss for words, standing from your bed. your heart pinged with annoyance, the embarrassment quickly dissipating into anger. “can’t you learn to fucking knock?”

eren didn’t say anything, quirking a brow at your snippy tone. it just aggravated you more, your brain trying to combat the dopamine that never truly reached its full potential. he stood in your doorway, staring you down as you seethed in your place.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he spoke softly. his face had some unknown expression on it, one you’d never seen before. his pupils were dilated, brows furrowed and gaze serious. “it’s a normal thing to do.” 

you huffed, shifting your legs in an attempt to quell the burning between your thighs. “i know that. what’s not normal is you barging into my room without knocking when you weren’t even supposed to be home for another hour.”

“i got bored, so i decided to come home and hangout with you,” he explained. his lip was curved upwards, as if he were trying to suppress a smirk. “s’more fun here anyway.” 

you frowned at his words, your mind flashing that image of his rough hands trailing down your body, squeezing. you swallowed at the thought, the anger quickly being overpowered by your unfinished arousal. “how long were you standing there?”

“long enough to know you didn’t finish,” he commented, holding eye contact as your eyebrows raised in surprise. you opened your mouth to respond, but eren beat you to it. “c’mon, i think i know you pretty well.” 

“not like that,” you muttered demurely, the dull ache nearly too much to bear. you felt like you’d be antsy till you got off, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes fell to the floor. “could you- could you give me some privacy?” 

eren didn’t respond for a moment, the sound of your bedroom door shutting sending a feeling of relief to your brain. you looked up, frown deepening. 

eren was leaning against the closed door, eyes dark and serious. “let me help you.”

his words sent a confused throb to your cunt, face going slack. was this really happening? 

“eren, you don’t mean…” you breathed out, the ache in your center multiplying tenfold at the sight of his tall and muscular figure staring down at you. shit, shit, shit!

“i do,” he responded seriously, taking a step towards you. he was normally tall and formidable, but in the darkness of your bedroom, he seemed infinite. you paused for a moment, your resolve already thin due to the incessant throbbing of your clit. eren seemed to take notice, eyeing you carefully. “who better than your best friend?” 

you held your breath before responding. you’d been thinking of this, dreaming of this. now here he was, standing before you and looking at you as though you were his for the taking. and it excited you. it excited you to no end. “i- okay.” 

eren was quick to smile, stepping up to you. you craned your neck to look at him, heartbeat erratic as his calloused hands ran down your bare arms. he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajamas. 

his teal eyes glanced up to you, asking for permission. you were afraid your voice wouldn’t work, instead feverishly nodding your head in acceptance. he pulled your pants down tantalizingly slow; like he was unwrapping some sacred gift. 

you bit your lip as your thighs became exposed, the feeling of eren’s hot breath fanning across the newly exposed skin. he leaned forward, eyes still locked with yours as he placed a kiss to the soft flesh, lips slicked with chapstick. it was sinful and he knew it. 

your cotton pants dropped to the floor, standing in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. eren’s gaze grew heavy on your panties - the inevitable wet spot showing just how desperate you were for attention. 

“trying to finish before i got home?” he cooed, curling his lip. you felt your face heat, glancing away. 

“yeah,” you responded bashfully, eren motioning his head towards the bed. 

he breathed out a laugh at your answer, giving your thigh that deeply desired squeeze. “that’s so cute. bet you’re so needy for me now, hm?” 

you could feel yourself growing wetter at his words, choosing to sit on the end of the bed in front of him rather than respond. he kissed your leg again, eyes catching on something beside you. 

“what’s this?” he smirked, reaching to grab your vibrator. you were too slow to react, reaching for it in vain as eren inspected it. “tsk, tsk. sit back down.” 

you hadn’t even realized you’d lifted from the mattress, eren’s dark tone making you abide as though you had no free will. 

he gave you a sadistic look, lunging forward to press his tongue flat against your clothed clit. you hissed at the feeling, hands fisting your bed sheets. eren chuckled against you, the vibration making your stomach burn. 

“just that already has you squirming?” he mumbled, lips pressing a kiss. as if this couldn’t get anymore embarrassing. “’s’hot.” 

you breathed out, the sight of eren between your legs in the lowly lit room entirely too attractive. you weren’t surprised he was so bossy and vocal, hand tapping your leg impatiently. 

“off.” he deadpanned, leaning back to watch you as you stood, yanking your underwear down your legs. you tried to quell your excitement; eren’s pupils growing impossibly larger at the sight of your exposed cunt. you sat back down, breath shaky as eren situated himself in front of you. “so wet already.”

eren, just as he always had been, was impatient. you’d just sat down and he was prying your knees apart, tongue hungrily pressing itself against your center. he was sloppy; eating you out with an animalistic hunger that had you nearing your climax much faster than usual. 

“eren,” you whimpered, the feeling of his tongue circling your entrance causing a moan to ripple from your mouth. the sound of his name only made him suck harder. he wasn’t letting up; absolutely determined to bring you to your high as fast as possible. “m’gonna cum, eren.” 

he groaned at your words, arms hooking around your thighs to hold you in place as he focused intently on your clit. the warm, wet feeling was becoming too much; edges of your vision growing dark as you let your release come crashing down, legs twitching as eren released his suction on you. 

he looked at you just long enough for you to notice the sheen on his chin, the sparkle in his eyes, and the grin on his lips. “been waiting so long for this, i’m gonna make the best of it.” 

your chest was heaving, brows pulled down in confusion as eren brought his first two fingers to your entrance, circling it twice before stuffing you with his long digits. 

you were burning, just having come down from your embarrassingly quick release only to have eren fucking you with his fingers. they easily slid in and out, wet with your sheen as he began to gently suck on your inner thigh. your vision was hazy, eren pushing his digits in to the last knuckle and curling slightly. 

the feeling of another release was building in your core; churning and readying you to succumb to eren’s will once more. and you were ready; a breathy moan leaving your lips as he angled his fingers particularly deep. you laid down, hands subconsciously lifting to grope your own chest - searching for an anchor. 

“shit,” eren swore at the sight of you palming your breasts, squirming in his hold as his fingers pumped in and out of you, quickening his pace. you whimpered in response, screwing your eyes shut. 

you felt the cold object press against your clit before he turned it on; eyes widening in surprise as you shot up. eren was grinning at you, thumb clicking it on as an involuntary cry ripped from your chest. 

the vibration was too much as his digits abused your cunt, stuffing into you as far as possible. your clit twitched aggressively, face and neck hot. your brain was growing fuzzy, thoughts clouded as you stared down at eren, mouth hanging open and eyes glossy. he was watching you seriously, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit in order to make you jolt. 

you were burning, abdomen flexing as your eyes began to water. the sensations were too much, legs trying to close but you were blocked by eren’s broad shoulders. 

you’d never been one to scream, but you couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped your mouth as eren included his tongue in the overstimulating mix. hot, sticky tears slid down your cheeks, eren’s tongue lapping at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside of you. 

his eye contact. oh, his eye contact. it was pervasive and inspective, analyzing every sound and movement you made. 

he pulled his tongue back for just a moment, the vibrator buzzing intensely against you. “cum for me.” 

and you did. it was too much; your legs jerking and stomach cramping, mind turned to mush at the overflow of dopamine. you collapsed back on the bed, eren leaving the vibrator pressed against your clit for a moment longer, the feeling now more uncomfortable than anything. you waved your hand, too exhausted to beg him to take it off. eren only chuckled, pulling his fingers from you but pressing the object against you harder. 

“let me see those tears,” he said sweetly, tapping your thigh. it was a sinister sweetness, the tears pooling down your face as you began to grown numb below your waist. you forced yourself to sit up, eren smiling as he saw your wet face. “good girl.”

he removed the vibrator, tossing it on the bed as he stood. you laid back down, breathing heavy and legs weak. eren hovered above you, leaning down to wipe your cheeks. 

“next time, just ask for my help,” he sneered, your eyes rolling weakly. he had a boyish grin on his face, something teasing about his nature. “i’m way better than some stupid vibrator, anyway.” 

<3 <3 <3 

#emmy writes #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #eren smut

[darlingmulti]

Ride (ATEEZ Seonghwa one shot)

Description- A little fun with Seonghwa after his performance 😉

Pairing- Seonghwa X fem!Reader

Rating- 18+

Word count- 2.3k

Genre- Smut, One Shot, romance,

Warnings- petting, teasing, biting, groping

Inspired by this incredible fan cam in my favorite outfit Seonghwa has ever worn- "I'm the One" Seonghwa fancam 210313

Teaser-

You knew what he was suggesting, and while it was incredibly lewd and risky, it made your blood rush even faster. You were desperate to feel him touch you. You were so needy that even the feeling of his hand climbing up your thigh was sending you into a stupor of lust. “L-like what?” You asked coyly. You knew what. But you also knew what Seonghwa liked. He loved when you acted innocent and cute. He loved telling you all of the thoughts running through his head, and you loved to hear them. Your own hand ran over the velvet of his pants and you marvelled at its softness. His hand around your waist tightened, fingers curling into your soft side, “Straddle me,” He ordered against your ear, slowly beginning to kiss along your jaw.

You stood anxiously in the dressing room, waiting for Seonghwa to come in. He had just finished his broadcast for ‘I’m the one’, and had texted you right before the show to tell you to meet him in the dressing room after.

ATEEZ’s schedule was packed, and you were shocked that he had even thought to ask you to come see him. The two of you hadn’t been together for very long in reality, but you were close nonetheless. Even as shocked as you were, you couldn’t resist seeing him up close in that royal purple suit he had worn for today. You would take any time you could spend with your handsome boyfriend.

You whipped around hearing the door open and your eyes immediately brightened as Seonghwa stepped inside, his silver hair slicked back and his face shining with sweat. He was still breathing rather hard.

“Y/N,” he breathed happily, closing and locking the door, an action you immediately took notice of. Before you could give it much thought he was taking your smaller hands in his, sighing as he dropped his head against your shoulder.

“You did really well today, you were so cool!” You encouraged, squeezing his warm hands.

You still couldn’t believe you were dating him.

He was so incredibly breathtaking. Especially today. Today you wanted to melt underneath his gaze. It was amazing what eye makeup did for someone. As he pulled away to look at you, you could already feel yourself growing flustered.

“You think so?” He asked sweetly.

“Of course! I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” you said.

“Well I would hope so,” he said, a slight edge to his tone.

He rarely showed it, but Seonghwa was quite possessive. He didn’t want you looking at anyone else. He wanted you to himself and only himself.

He stepped around you and settled down in a rolling chair in front of the vanity, leaning back with his knees apart. He spun around to look at you, eyes dark with approval. You were wearing a pretty white dress with lilacs on it. It only came to about the middle of your thigh, accentuating your figure nicely.

You stepped closer to him awkwardly.

“You look so pretty,” he praised, easily bringing a rush of color to your cheeks. Ugh. Just his voice was making you crazy. It had been too long since you and Seonghwa had any alone time together. You wished you could become small enough to fit into his pocket and go everywhere with him.

You smiled at him, trying your best to not show how flustered you were. You usually weren’t like this, but seeing him this way made you more needy than usual. It had been much longer than you liked without his touch.

He smirked, and took your hand, “Sit down,” he urged, pulling you easily onto his lap.

You fit perfectly, and his hands wrapped innocently around you.

“When’s your next schedule?” You asked.

“I have to go change in about ten minutes,” He sighed.

You frowned and leaned against his slim chest, a hand falling against the soft velvet of his suit jacket, “That’s too short,” you whined.

He leaned forward so his mouth was against your ear, his warm breath tickling the side of your face, “Is it?” He asked, and his teeth grazed the edge of your ear lobe.

Arousal shot through you, and you could feel the tightening of your nipples just at that small amount of contact.

Fuck.

How was anyone this unbearably attractive?

“I-I want to be with you longer,” you whined, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

One of his hands fell onto your thigh, moving the fabric slowly between his nimble fingers. He let out a soft sigh. He wanted the same if he was honest. He wanted to take you on more dates, to spend hours beside you, sleeping, watching movies, and just being around one another. His schedule was so packed lately though, that it was just too hard.

“That would be ideal…” He agreed, “But I’m sure we can get something done here in the next eight minutes we have together,” he whispered.

You knew what he was suggesting, and while it was incredibly lewd and risky, it made your blood rush even faster. You were desperate to feel him touch you. You were so needy that even the feeling of his hand climbing up your thigh was sending you into a stupor of lust.

“L-like what?” You asked coyly.

You knew what. But you also knew what Seonghwa liked. He loved when you acted innocent and cute. He loved telling you all of the thoughts running through his head, and you loved to hear them.

Your own hand ran over the velvet of his pants and you marvelled at its softness.

His hand around your waist tightened, fingers curling into your soft side, “Straddle me,” He ordered against your ear, slowly beginning to kiss along your jaw.

You did as you were told, standing up and breaking away from him for a moment to look at him.

His pupils were huge and dark, and his face was slightly flushed, you could just slightly make out the bulge in his own pants. You wished for a brief moment you could help him take care of that, but you knew there wouldn’t be enough time for the both of you.

You slowly brought your legs around one of his thighs, you were being too slow for him though and he wrapped both hands around your hips and pulled you down once again, pushing your core against his strong thigh.

The softness of velvet against your thighs added to the pleasure, and you immediately let out a soft gasp at the sudden friction. The dress was the right thing to wear today, that was for sure.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He growled and his hand came up against your neck, caressing your cheek as he watched you.

You slowly began to move your hips forward and back against his thigh, feeling your breath hitching at the feeling of fabric rubbing against your already swollen clit. You were much more aroused than you had first thought, and already slick with desire.

He pulled your face closer and began to kiss you gently, your lips fitting together perfectly as you continued your movements.

You had to cum before he left. You were desperate.

Your hands splayed across his chest as the two of you continued to sloppily kiss. His hands were gripping your hips tightly, not moving even though you wished he would touch the swell of your breasts.

Finally he pulled away and began kissing down your neck, eliciting soft sighs and moans that you did your best to keep to a minimum. Biting down on your bottom lip to keep quiet.

“Careful princess, wouldn’t want anyone to hear us,” He whispered darkly, before his teeth grazed the subtle outline of your collarbone.

“That would be bad,” you managed to get out in a semi-normal voice before picking back up with your movements.

“You don't have much time left,” he growled against you and you let out a soft huff, beginning to move faster.

You pulled back to look at him with hooded eyes. He was so fucking sexy. There was a light sheen of sweat covering his face already, and his shoulders were wide in the suit jacket before tapering at his slim waist.

“I fucking love that suit,” you muttered, still staring at him.

“Hmm,” He hummed, and his hands came up from your hips to the gentle swell of your breasts, fingers splaying over your hardened nipples, “I love when you don’t wear a bra for me,” he said, dropping his head against your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t make it a habit though… no one else can see you like this.... Can touch you like this.” He growled possessively, hands squeezing your breasts and rolling over your nipples roughly through your dress. He bit the skin of your shoulder a bit harder than the other times, teeth dragging along your skin.

You gasped softly and clenched your eyes shut. You were already so close to the edge it was insane. Things like this didn’t seem possible until you had met Seonghwa.

You were still moving your hips, trying not to be too loud.

“I’m all yours,” you whimpered.

“That’s right…” he said, pulling away to look at your face, hands coming up to run through your locks, “Are you going to come for me darling?” He asked, grabbing your face roughly to look into your eyes.

Your breath hitched and the tightness that had been building up in your core exploded, taking you into a blinding wave of pleasure. A low mewl escaped your lips as your hips stuttered to a stop, head dropping against his shoulder as your legs spasmed around his hard thigh.

“That’s my girl, such a good whore,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe, succeeding in causing another spasm to rock through you, this one stronger than the last.

Bang!!

Bang!!

Bang!!

“Hyung! What are you doing in there? We need to get going!” You jumped hearing Jongho’s voice behind the door, and you tensed at the sound of the handle jiggling.

“Be out shortly!” Seonghwa called naturally, not even missing a beat.

“Why is the door locked? Can I come in?” The handle jiggled again, and you gasped as Seonghwa reached up to fondle your breasts cruelly, grinning down at your slightly dishevelled self.

“I’ll come out soon Jongho!” He called, and then pressed his lips to yours harshly, kissing you with passion as Jongho was heard walking away from the door.

You were unsatisfied, and desperate for more, but time was up, and Seonghwa was already running late.

“I’ll have to return the favor another time,” you muttered as the two of you pulled away.

“This is enough for me,” He said, hands falling back against your hips. It clearly wasn’t, but Seonghwa probably didn’t want to make you feel bad.

“When will you have time?” You asked, still sitting against his thigh, slowly coming down from the euphoric state you had been in earlier.

Seonghwa sighed and pulled out his phone, going to his calendar app to look at the days, “Hmm… Not for a while really… I do have a few nights coming up soon that I’ll be at the dorms but…”

“It’s okay. We can always find time. I’m usually free at night anyways so you can let me know. Then I can help you out.” You said coyly, walking your fingers up his thigh towards the painfully obvious bulge in his pants.

His hand dropped to yours, stopping you, “I’ll call you. Or text you.” He promised, lifting your hand and kissing your knuckles delicately, “Are you okay? Can you stand?” He asked.

You always found it funny how Seonghwa was. One minute he was tormenting you into multiple orgasms, and the next he was nothing more than a loving and concerned boyfriend.

“Of course I can stand,” You laughed, but as you finally decided to straighten your legs you realized how tired your recent activities had made you. Your muscles still seemed to tremble in remembrance.

Seonghwa chuckled as you stumbled, catching your arm and slowly standing up. You were grateful for the darkness of his suit, there was no trace of what you two had done together.

You on the other hand.

You turned to look in the mirror, and were shocked at how rough you looked. Your cheeks were blushy and there was a light sheen of sweat on your forehead. Your dress was wrinkled a bit too. You gently smoothed it down and combed your fingers through your hair, trying to make yourself look more normal.

“So beautiful,” Seonghwa whispered, coming to wrap his arms around your waist and press you against his chest.

“Stop that,” you chided, “You need to get going!”

He grunted and pressed his face into your shoulder for a moment, closing his round eyes.

You couldn’t help but reach up to stroke his hair.

You were sad too.

“SEONGHWA HYUNG! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DO YOU WANT US ALL TO BE LATE TO REHEARSAL?” Hongjoong yelled through the door, hitting it hard enough to make the door shake.

You jumped and Seonghwa groaned softly, “The back door is open, so you can get out that way,” he muttered, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder before pulling away from you and turning to the door.

“Okay… Good luck!” You whispered quietly.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“YA!” Hongjoong shouted again, pounding on the door, “ARE YOU OKAY?”

“I’m coming!” Seonghwa cried.

You chuckled softly and rushed to the back exit door, “I love you,” You whispered to him.

Seonghwa turned around in a flash, eyes widening. He bounded over to you, grabbing you by your arms and aggressively kissing you one last time before letting you go, “I love you too… I’ll call you.” He promised and pushed open the door for you to let you out.

“Okay,” You smiled and stepped into the hallway, watching his face disappear as he slowly closed the door and you heard him going to open the door for Hongjoong.

“You had your girlfriend in here didn’t you!”

“What? No, no, I was just-”

“Ya! Seonghwa hyung don’t even try lying, let’s go!”

You laughed softly hearing the soft sound of Hongjoong probably smacking Seonghwa’s arm. He would yell at you next time he saw you. You smiled and turned away, quietly walking out into the cool air. The sun was setting by now… As you began your walk you heard your phone ding and lifted it up to look down at the notification from Seonghwa.

‘Next time I’ll make sure you can’t walk 😉💕.’

A dark blush crept up your cheeks and your face grew hot. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

#kpop #ateez #ateez imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #smut fanfiction #ateez smut #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #thigh riding #lovers #ateez fireworks #make out #kpop fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fic

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fluff

[thatesqcrush]

The Auction, Pt. 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: discussion of sex work, "being bidded on/purchased" touching of reader - but its consensual, vaginal fingering, language. WC: 2K.

You met with the brains of the organization for a long time. Her name was Cordelia and according to her, you were “a perfect candidate” as she eyed you up and down.

“How does this work? Is this safe? ” You asked, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “How much of a cut do I get? And don't bullshit me.”

“Ah, I’ve always appreciated a woman who gets down to brass tacks.” Cordelia replied. “The cut is 50/50, off the books. We’ll screen your sexual health, of course. While those results are pending, we’ll vet you - make sure you’re of sanity and have no criminal background. This is all done behind closed doors - no one in your immediate life would be the wiser. If that’s all clear, we will arrange the date for the auction. In the meantime, we like to invest in our ladies once they’re cleared - meaning we’ll make arrangements for hair, makeup, clothes, and the like.”

You swallowed hard. “I can assure you, I’m clean. I haven’t had many partners prior.”

Cordelia nodded. “Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”

**

Your test results came and you received a clean bill of health. The next step was to be primped and polished. Naturally you were middle of the road - some days you could be really girly and other days, not. You weren’t tethered to any one style. But it had been awhile since you were ever able to relax, so when you were sent to a spa for a day of treatment, you jumped at the chance.

After, it was onto shopping.

You felt like Vivian from Pretty Woman as salespersons brought you dress after dress while you got your hair and makeup done. The request from Cordelia was ‘sexy, not slutty.’

You settled on a red hot mini dress with a v-neckline and center ruching for added dimension. Finishing the look was a pair of simple heels that showed off your toned gams and a pair of jeweled hoop earrings. You hardly recognized yourself in your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in the store. ‘This is one night; you’re playing a role.’ You told yourself. You figured if you repeated it enough times, you’d believe it.

An unmarked car came to collect you once you were done, driving you straight to the location where the auction was taking place.

You knew there would be other women there from Bonnie. What you didn’t realize was that you’d be going very last. Your nerves were starting to fry and your stomach was twisted in knots. You sipped water through a straw so as to not ruin your lipstick. Finally, there was a rap on the door and Cordelia poked her head in.

“Darling, it’s your time to shine. Now go earn your worth.”

**

You could hear raucous laughter, cheering and applause from behind where you stood. The music pounded and you could feel it in your bones.

Finally, the door opened - it was pitch black on the other side, save a spotlight. You said a quick prayer, even though you weren’t very religious as you stepped into the light.

Once there, the light adjusted to a more dim version and you were able to focus your vision on the crowd before you. Music played quietly in the background before a woman began to speak - someone who sounded very much like Cordelia.

What she says next and what is said after, is all blur. Bids begin to roll in and it’s in that moment you realized you were nothing more than a hooker, using your body as a means to an end. Humiliation flowed through you - you didn’t feel like you - you didn’t feel as good as you thought. Instead your worth was measured in bank rolls.

You scanned the room, men of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds were there, waving their black AmEx cards like they were charging a steak dinner. And that’s how you felt - you were a lamb being slaughtered.

The gavel banged and you heard Cordelia exclaim, “Sold! To Mr. Bryan Kneef for two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

You whipped your head at Cordelia. Had you heard her correctly? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The fact that you got to keep half made your head spin.

“And that concludes tonight’s auction. Winners may come to collect their prizes in the back.”

Cordelia wrapped her arm around your waist and began to whisk you away when you heard someone thank ‘Mr. Kneef for his payment.’ You turned to see who he was and in the dimmed light you saw it was ‘Mr. Mysterious.’

And you damn near passed out.

**

You sat in the room you were originally in. There was one security camera in place and Cordelia advised that winners liked to meet first before any further advances were to come.

Your leg bounced as you drank your water again. You felt as if you were there for hours but realistically it was mere moments.

The door opened and Mr. Mysteri—Kneef walked in. You smiled nervously at him and extended your arm. “Hi. Bryan, right?”

Bryan didn’t reply. Instead he gave you an intense, smoldering look. His cologne wafted over you, warm and woodsy causing your skin to goosebump.

You brought your arm back and clutched your hands behind your back. Bryan took another step towards you, as if he were trying to get a closer look at his purchase.

“Take off your clothes.” Bryan requested quietly. You opened your mouth to say something but the look in response along with a perfectly arched brow caused you to snap your mouth shut. “I want to see what I bought.”

You reached around, undoing the zipper - thankful it was along the side and not along your back.

You slid the dress off, strap by strap. You hadn’t worn a bra - just a nude thong which wasn’t even fancy - simple and basic, meant more for avoiding lines than anything else. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it. You moved to kick off your heels when Bryan interrupted you.

“Leave them on.”

You nodded and stood up, anxiously awaiting the next move.

Bryan removed his jacket and folded it neatly, hanging it over a chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his muscular forearms with thick, meaty veins.

You looked up and saw the small security camera and realized this private show wasn’t so private. The sound of a finger snap brought you back to the present and you whipped your head towards Bryan. Your heart began to race and you wondered if you should just bolt. You tried to mentally measure the distance between you and the door.

Bryan approached you. His gaze softened, as if he were sorry for what he was about to say. “I’m going to touch you now. At any point if you want me to stop, I will. Consent is very important to me.”

“It is to me too.” You replied, meeting his gaze. After a beat, you continued. “You can touch me.”

His warm touch began rather innocently, along your arm up to along your shoulder. As he walked around you, he kept touching and feeling. His hand got to your ass and he let out a deep rumble as he squeezed the fat of your flesh.

Bryan walked around you. When he came around to the front of you, he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling the weight against his palm. You did your best to remain stoic, ignoring the bolt of pleasure that had shot down to your core. That changed when he firmly twisted your nipple, as you let out a moan as he did so. That earned another arched brow from him, as if taking mental notes.

He rounded you again, and you felt him close the small gap that remained. You felt his cock, hard, pressed against the small of your back. His fingers gently traced your arm and then brought it up, so it was around his neck. He ran his hand back down along your side, and you trembled under his touch. You were certain your heart was beating outside of your chest. When he got to the side of your ribs, he splayed out his hand, so his palm was against you. Slowly, his hand made way down to the apex of your legs.

“Open.” He rumbled in your ear quietly and you followed his instructions. Your breath hitched as his hand cupped your mound. Bryan’s fingers then moved to stroke you softly, teasing your clit and then moving back to stroke your folds. Your pussy grew wet, your breath became more labored as he continued his ministrations. You bit your bottom lip as he slowly but surely worked you to orgasm. Just when you thought you weren’t going to be able to take anymore, Bryan sunk a thick finger inside your soaked pussy. Your pussy clenched around his finger tightly and you let out a wrecked moan in response.

“You’re so wet and we haven’t even started.” Bryan murmured. His beard against your cheek added another layer of sensation. There was no resistance when Bryan sunk another thick finger and began to pump them in and out of you. The sound of wet filled the room and your legs felt wobbly as you gripped around Bryan’s neck harder. Your other hand found his free hand and you brought it up to your breast, encouraging him.

“I’m so close.” You panted. “Oh fuck!”

“Come for me like a good girl.” Bryan growled as he rubbed your clit with the fat pad of his thumb. He used his other hand to pinch your nipple again and you arched against him, coming so hard that you drew his fingers further in.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Bryan praised. “Oh sweetheart we’re going to have so much fun.” He slid his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss.

Bryan spun you around to face him. You were a mess as you watched him admire his wet fingers in the light. Bryan brought them to you and you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them of your juices and then imitating as to what you could do with your mouth.

Bryan gave you a salacious smile as he withdrew his fingers. He traced them along your cheek, leaving a wet trail to your mouth where he rubbed your bottom lip.

“I definitely got my money’s worth with you.” Bryan replied. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll have arrangements made so we can have even more fun.”

You watched as he walked away, grabbing his suit jacket and exiting without so much as a second glance. You stayed frozen in place for another five minutes or so, until you realized you could redress and go home.

The car ride home left you with more questions than answers and more horny than ever. Your battery operated boyfriend ran through its battery as you replayed the evening over and over as you were too wired to sleep from the earlier events.

Eventually you did, with Bryan’s name still on your lips.

TBC.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreamlover31 @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @sass-and-suspenders @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @zoeykaytesmom @bananas-pajamas @law-nerd105

@storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

#bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef smut #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef and you #bryan kneef x you #bryan kneef fanfic

[aomine-ryo]

hi!! could i please request aomine + kise w a super insecure s/o but she doesn’t really say anything about it? but overtime the boys see how closed off she seems w everything ? aaa sorry if this doesn’t make sense

It made sense, don’t worry!! I hope you like this x

Scenario: Kise and Aomine with an insecure s/o

Kise

You loved dating Kise— you really did. As someone who had tendencies to worry about what others thought of you as well as be over-critical on yourself, being with him was quite refreshing. His bubbly personality and constant reassurance definitely helped you gain some self-love that you probably wouldn’t have been able to find without him.

There was one issue though. Kise was a rather popular person, being a model and all. For the first few months of your relationship, you managed to stay hidden by not going out in public with him too often. Of course, the two of you couldn’t always have dates at each other’s houses because there were so many places Kise wanted to take you, so you slowly began to go out together.

It didn’t take long for rumours to go around about your relationship, considering Kise’s popularity as a model was growing quite rapidly at this point. At first, you didn’t mind too much because they were just rumours and no one could confirm nor deny it per say. Furthermore, you felt quite happy knowing that Kise was all yours, and that you were in a relationship where you lifted each other up, so what others said about it wasn’t something you were concerned about.

However, that was until people started sneaking pictures of the two of you in public. You didn’t notice anything as it happened because you were caught up with Kise, but a few hours after you returned home, your social media was plastered with mentions as people tagged you in photos with your boyfriend. Looking at the surge of those photos made you begin to feel overwhelmed. You couldn’t help but read what people had to say about it, even though you knew you’d probably regret it.

At first, you didn’t really see anything too bad. Things like ‘Oh a new couple! How cute’ and ‘They’re adorable together, Kise-kun looks so happy’ seemed to be scattered amongst more surprised and sceptical comments that questioned the validity of the photos. And then you found the hate.

‘Yikes. Why is Kise dating someone like that?’, ‘No offense but Kise can do better’, ‘Did they pay Kise to date them or something? I never imagined him actually dating someone like that lol’ along with many other comments of that sort was soon all you saw. The nicer comments that were sprinkled here and there suddenly lost all its value as the meaner ones were all you seemed to look at.

You switched your phone off and put it aside as you began to feel your throat close up. As your brain began to question your self worth, a few tears managed to escape, even though you were trying so hard not to let it get to you. Maybe they were right? was all you could think about as you slowly but surely beat yourself up about it.

“Y/N-cchi! Are you free after school?” Kise chirped as you met up with him at recess a few days later.

“Probably. Why?”

“Let’s go on a date! There’s this boba café nearby that I think you’d really like,” he said with a smile, cheery as ever.

“I’m not sure. I think I’ll have to pass,” you said softly. You really didn’t want any more online attention than you were already getting.

“Why not?” he pouted.

You looked up at his frowning face and felt a wave of guilt. You made him sad. The comments were right. You don’t deserve him. “I just don’t feel like it,” you shrugged, pinching yourself.

“You’ll feel better when you try their drinks— trust me. It’ll be fun,” Kise said, giving you a smile that never failed to make your heart melt.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded slightly, “Alright I guess we can go then.”

Kise’s face lit up once again as his arms wrapped around you so tight that you felt like you couldn’t even breathe. “Yay, a date with Y/N-cchi!” he sang.

After school, the two of you walked to the cafe together. The weather was quite pleasant, and the bright yellow sun definitely improved your mood ever so slightly. As you walked, Kise took your hand in his like he usually would, but almost instantly, you pulled it away from him, gaining a look of confusion in response.

“What’s wrong, Y/N-cchi?” Kise asked, concerned.

“It’s nothing. My palms are just a bit sweaty, so I don’t think you’d wanna hold my hand,” you lied. You couldn’t help but be on edge in the case that someone was watching you.

“They felt fine to me, don’t worry about that,” Kise said, reaching for your hand once again.

You couldn’t really think of anything else to say to refuse without garnering any questions from him, so you reluctantly let him hold your hand, looking around anxiously. This keeping an eye out lasted for quite some time and Kise seemed to notice that your attention wasn’t fully directed towards him like it normally would be.

“Y/N-cchi, are you really sure everything is okay? You’ve barely even looked at me today,” Kise said as the two of you sipped on your drinks in the cafe.

“I’m fine,” you answered simply, over-correcting your actions by focusing on Kise and pretending everything was okay.

“Really? You seem really nervous,” Kise said.

“Ryouta, I’m fine, don’t worry,” you said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

“If there’s ever anything worrying you, you can tell me,” he said sincerely, placing his hand on top of yours and giving it a tight squeeze. “You know that, right?”

For a moment you really considered telling him what’s been bothering you, but you were afraid. You thought that it was really stupid of yourself to get affected so much by something like this and you didn’t want him to judge you for it— even though you were aware that he’d never do that.

“I know,” you nodded as you leaned back in your seat, filled with uncertainty and regret.

Once again, when you got back home, you were met with even more pictures of you and Kise from your date. You noticed that you had a frown on your face in pretty much all the photos. And of course the comments seemed to notice too.

‘lol his date doesn’teven look like they want to be there’, ‘that person looks annoying, why’s Kise dating someone like that’, ‘if I were with Kise I’d probably pay more attention to him than they are’.

Day by day, the comments increased. Kise’s agency managed to be able to keep the tabloids relatively silent about it. There were small articles here and there, but none of them were all too bad. However, there was no way they could control what was being said on the internet. Kise did call you up to remind you not to be too concerned about what people were saying. In fact, he urged you to do what he does and avoid the comment sections completely. But at that point, it was already too late. Looking at what others said about you online quickly became a daily thing, sending you down a spiral of self-destruction that only got worse.

Slowly, you began to avoid going outside and started making more and more excuses to not go out with Kise. You did still really like spending time with him, but the only time you were truly comfortable was when you were somewhere private with no other people around, and that wasn’t something Kise could do too often because he liked going outside.

He’d invite you to hang out with his friends every so often but you’d always refuse, saying that you were too busy. In all honesty, you hated lying to him but you felt like you had to.

One afternoon, you were laying down in bed after a tiring day of school and scrolling through comments yet again, when you heard the doorbell ring. It was Kise.

“Ryouta? What are you doing here?” you asked with a confused expression. “Don’t you have practice?”

“Yeah but you didn’t come to watch so I got worried,” Kise explained as he stepped into your house. “What happened, Y/N-cchi? You always watch my practice.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel too well,” you replied, your eyes fixed on the floor.

“What? Are you okay?” Kise asked, in a slightly panicked tone as his hand immediately reached for your forehead to check your temperature. “You seem fine.”

You responded with nothing but silence as you pursed your lips and continued to stare at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Kise leaned down to try and meet your gaze. “Y/N-cchi, what’s really going on? You’ve been really distant lately. Have you gotten tired of me or something?” Kise asked, his usual cheery voice suddenly going all soft.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you shook your head, surprised that he’d even think of something like that.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Y/N-cchi, please tell me what’s going on so that I can help. I really hate seeing you like this. I can’t remember the last time I saw a genuine smile from you, which sucks because I really like your smile,” Kise said as he cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head up to look at him in the eye.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you thought back to all the things you’ve read about yourself. Kise genuinely cared for you and you told yourself yet again that you really don’t deserve him. “I just don’t feel very confident going out so much with you,” you admitted softly.

“What? Why’s that?” Kise asked, amber eyes filled with concern and worry.

“Because there are people who sneak photos of us and post them online. And the comments are always just so... mean,” you said, your voice breaking as tears began to roll down your cheeks.

“Didn’t I tell you not to look at those? What did they say?”

“T-That I’m not good enough for you, and that I don’t deserve you,” you replied, sobbing like a baby at this point.

“And you’re going to believe what a bunch of random people say about you?” Kise said, which silenced you for a moment as you thought about it. “Listen Y/N-cchi, you’re beautiful and kind and one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. I’m the luckiest person in the world because I get to call you mine. If anything, I don’t deserve you— I mean it. No one could ever make me think that you’re not good enough because in my eyes you’re my everything,” Kise said, voice so soft and tender that it just filled your body with warmth.

“Are you sure?” you asked, unable to process the fact that this boy had so much love for you.

Kise pecked your lips and gave you a smile. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“I’m sorry for not talking about it to you sooner and acting so aloof,” you said.

“It’s okay. We can take it slow and just spend more time alone, alright?” Kise said as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you sniffled.

“I hope you can see yourself the way I see you someday. You’re really amazing, Y/N-cchi. I love you so goddamn much,” he said, honey eyes full of care and sincerity as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of those words that made your heart skip a beat, “I love you too, Ryouta.”

Kise’s face brightened up again as he too began to grin, “There’s that gorgeous smile— I’ve missed it.”

Aomine

Aomine was aware that you had times where you felt insecure every now and then and of course, he did his best to minimise it and check up on you to make sure you were alright. He seemed to be doing a fairly good job as well because your confidence was rather stable for a while.

One of the main reasons he’d always check up on you was because he was really slow on picking up when you did feel insecure. You were the kind of person to sit quietly and deal with your issues by yourself rather than reach out for help so that made it slightly difficult for him sometimes. Along with being slow at noticing, Aomine was often one to take things for granted. So when you seemed to be all happy and confident, he’d slowly begin checking up on you lesser and lesser.

You never realised how much you valued the attention from him though until it began to reduce. You seemed to have become emotionally dependent on Aomine and by the time you realised it, it was a little too late.

Slowly, as days went by, you began to feel more and more unsure about yourself as Aomine got busier. The Winter Cup was just around the corner and he was caught up with practices that he didn’t have as much time to tend to you. Nevertheless, he still went out of his way to call you up or visit you during his free time, though that time was never enough for you to open up about how you felt.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but before you knew it, your mind was clouded with dark thoughts that criticised your appearance and abilities. You’d often stand in front of the mirror and pick yourself apart piece by piece, feeling nothing but hatred towards the person that looked back at you.

You stopped enjoying the things you’d normally enjoy too. Things like art and reading became a burden as every time you’d pick up a pencil, you’d hate every stroke you made, and you couldn’t immerse yourself into books anymore because your mind would only just wander off into thoughts about the things you wanted to escape.

“Hey babe, how are you doing today?” Aomine said when you picked up his phone call one evening.

“I’m okay, are you heading back from practice?” you asked, able to hear a faint sound of footsteps in the background.

“Yep. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he sighed.

“Didn’t you see me in school today?” You pointed out.

“Barely. Besides, that was hours ago. I miss you,” Aomine said.

“I miss you too,” you replied, hearing his voice somehow put a small smile on your face.

“Can we FaceTime instead? I want to see you,” he requested, which immediately wiped the smile away.

“I don’t think so,” you said, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you.

“Why not? You can’t just keep that pretty face to yourself, you know. It’s not fair.”

“I look anything but pretty, trust me,” you said, playing it off as a joke even though you actually meant it.

“Oh come on. Please?”

“I said no, Daiki,” you snapped suddenly, shocking both you and Aomine. You definitely didn’t want to put yourself on video, however you didn’t realise how defensive you were about it until that point. But you stood by it.

There was a moment of silence as you took in what just happened before Aomine let out a heavy sigh. “Alright. It’s fine then I guess,” he said. There was definitely a change in his tone after that. What was previously an energetic and happy sound, was now more lukewarm and mellow, and you couldn’t help but feel responsible for it.

And now there was one more thing for you to beat yourself up over.

Aomine finally had a few days off of practice, and of course, the first thing he wanted to do was spend time with you. So he called you up.

“Hey, do you want to go out for a movie or something? I finally have some free time,” Aomine asked you.

“Um, I’m not sure. I don’t think I feel too well,” you said. The last place you wanted to go was outside. You had to walk to the convenience store the other day and you absolutely hated it because you felt like everyone was judging you in some way or the other, even though in reality, no one really looked at you for more than a second.

“Really? Is everything okay? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I guess I’m just not feeling up to it,” you said.

“Then how about we do something tomorrow?” he suggested.

“I don’t know...”

“Y/N, I barely get to see you anymore. Are you sure you’re not avoiding me or something?” Aomine questioned, being more straightforward not to mask his hurt.

“I’m not.”

“Then why don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed at the pressure you felt to not make him hate you even more.

“Y/N, that’s not an answer,” he sighed.

You responded with silence as you finally decided to shut yourself up before you made things worse. With one more disappointed sigh, Aomine ended the call. The sound of the ringing finally caused you to break down into tears. You finally reached rock bottom. You chased away the one person who actually cared about you. He probably hates you now too.

Meanwhile, Aomine was striding towards your house after ending the phone call. It may have been a bit cruel to just cut it without saying a goodbye, but the frustration just took over. You weren’t even responding at that point so Aomine just decided to see what was wrong for himself. It took you a while to answer the door, and when you did, there was a forced smile on your tear stained face as you let him in.

“I’m sorry for cutting the call short. What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

No response. You just stared at the floor.

Aomine’s hand reached for your cheek, “Hey, were you crying—“

He stopped when you flinched and shifted away before he could lay a finger on you. “I’m fine, it’s nothing,” you said coldly, wrapping your arms around your body and clenching your shirt.

“You won’t even let me touch you. Did I do something wrong?” Aomine asked, trying to think about whether or not he’d done anything to upset you recently. However, nothing added up as he barely saw you— there was no way he could’ve done anything.

You hated every moment of this. All you could think about was how you probably looked awful at that moment. He came so suddenly that you didn’t get a chance to fix yourself. Furthermore, you’d just been crying so you probably looked like a train wreck. He is definitely thinking about how bad I look, you thought. You didn’t want to find out though, so you just avoided all eye contact.

“You’re really not going to even talk to me?” Aomine asked, and as he expected there was yet again no response. He sighed. “Fine then. I’m not leaving your house until you tell me what’s going on.”

You watched as Aomine walked further into your house. He went straight into the kitchen, and you, not knowing what else to do, trailed behind him as he began to check the cabinets.

“I’m starving. Have you eaten lunch yet?” Aomine turned his head to look over at you. You shook your head. “Alright. I’ve been learning how to cook. I’m not guaranteeing a gourmet meal, but it should be edible... hopefully,” he said, beginning to pull out different ingredients.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumbled.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“No.”

“Yeah I thought so. I’m making us some food,” he said dismissively.

You knew Aomine was stubborn so you didn’t try to argue any more because he’d make it no matter what you say.

You watched him walk up and down the kitchen and do his thing in silence. You really weren’t sure what he was trying to make. There were so many different ingredients that just didn’t make sense, but you just stood and watched.

About half an hour went by without a word from either of you. Aomine began humming a song as he stood over the stove, which strangely made you feel more at ease. As he stirred the pot, he seemed so harmless that you began to finally calm down and build up the courage to tell him.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he finally spoke up, “You ready to say something to me yet?

Another moment of silence passed by as you bit your lip in hesitation. Aomine was just about to let out another disappointed sigh when you muttered, “I’ve just been feeling really insecure lately.”

Hearing your voice caught Aomine off guard for a moment. Even though he was the one who asked you to speak up, a part of him was expecting nothing to happen yet again. He switched off the stove, wiped his hands and turned to face you, leaning against the counter as he did so. “Insecure? About what?”

“I don’t know. I just hate how I look. And everything I do feels so inadequate. Plus I haven’t gotten to see you in a while so I got the feeling that you probably hate me by now. I’m acting like a brat now, after all,” you said, voice soft but the pain was evident.

“I want to start off by saying, I could never hate you. You’re always on my mind Y/N. Why do you think I like to call you so much? Actually, why do you think I came all the way over here? It’s because I care about you,” he said.

You finally looked up at him again. He looked as gorgeous as ever. And this dark blue eyes were gentle and caring. Maybe you were overthinking it.

Aomine took you getting your eyes off the floor as a good sign. So he took a few steps closer to you. “And I get how you feel about the other stuff. I feel like that too sometimes. But honestly, I find you absolutely beautiful. I really don’t know how much weight my words have, but that’s what I think. You’re also so smart and talented, I really just think you need to be a little kinder to yourself,” he continued.

And just like that, the waterworks went for round two. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear those words until right then.

Aomine felt his heart ache at the sight of you in this state. He hesitated for a moment because of what happened when he tried to touch you earlier, but he soon wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight. Almost immediately, you too wrapped your arms around him and sobbed into his chest, the smell of his cologne making you feel safe at your most vulnerable moment.

“I’m so sorry for being so distant. I’ve been so awful. I should’ve talked to you,” you cried. It was a bit difficult for Aomine to understand what you were saying through the tears but he processed it a few moments later as his fingers brushed through your hair reassuringly.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he said softly as he pulled away and held your shoulders so he could look you in the eye. “I’m just glad you told me.”

You nodded as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

“Here,” Aomine said, as he pulled off the black dog tag necklace he wore and put it around your neck. “It’s not much, but think of it as a reminder that you’re always amazing in my eyes.”

You felt your heart burst as you became teary-eyed again, except this time it was out of gratefulness.

“...is that too lame?” Aomine asked as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly when you didn’t say anything.

You immediately shook your head. “No, it means a lot. I-I love you.”

A smile spread across Aomine’s face. “I love you too, Y/N,” he said. “Alright, I’m gonna finish making our food, okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded as you watched him return to the stove. “But, can I ask what exactly you’re trying to make?”

“Um, ramen?”

You began to giggle, “Babe, I don’t think you should put tomato sauce in ramen.”

“Oh, right... I knew that.”

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket x reader #aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #kise ryouta #kise ryota x reader #knb #generation of miracles

[battlinghurricanes]

DEIPHOBUS TIME!

I'm honestly not entirely sure how I got such a deeply involved concept for his character and motivations, but I definitely did. I just feel like he fits into an especially interesting place in everything and that there's a lot of great potential with him.

Shout out to @petalveinedwarrior for enabling me and also I'm very sorry for being incredibly long winded. My bad.

Also DISCLAIMER! I am NOT an expert on the Trojan War and all its surrounding mythology lol. This is just for fun, based on my own fairly limited knowledge of the myths (though I think I pretty much cover everything that’s relevant to this). These are just my headcanons woven with some details from various myths. Sorry if anything’s missing or inaccurate!

SO!

-

First and foremost, I headcanon Deiphobus as the oldest of Priam and Hecuba’s children after Hektor.

Hektor calls Deiphobus the dearest of his brothers, and to me, this is why. They are the closest in age and they were the closest growing up, best friends when they were young. They also get the closest to being on equal footing which means a lot to Hektor, who often feels distance between him and his other siblings because of being heir to Troy.

Despite the relatively equal ground and Deiphobus treating Hektor with a very casual familiarity, deep down, he idolizes him. Deiphobus adores and admires Hektor, ever a younger brother in how he looks up to his strength and intelligence and reliability but close enough in age to not feel the same envy as so many of their younger siblings.

Deiphobus is aware that he is next in line to inherit the throne of Troy after Hektor, and the possibility of that is more real to him than to the rest. He doesn’t envy or want the responsibilities Hektor has to bear being the first son and admires him for it rather than resenting him. He never wants the weight of Troy on his shoulders.

Additionally, as close as they are, Hektor confides more openly in Deiphobus than the rest of their siblings. Consequently, he has a more realistic idea of both the burden he bears and also the ways he struggles to manage it like any human would.

Deiphobus holds Hektor in the highest regard- he means the world to him. It is a strange and unique combination of relating to and understanding Hektor exactly as he is and then loving him so dearly for how remarkably he seems to do in all of it, all that Deiphobus adores and strives to be like.

Hektor calls Deiphobus the dearest of his brothers, but Deiphobus would never need to say the same of Hektor, that much has always been obvious.

Deiphobus himself is ferociously loyal, boastful and fiery proud, wild and energetic, and always quick to smile and laugh with a sharp sense of humor. He’ll defend his own with tooth and nail, Hektor first and foremost, and they make a well balanced pair. Hektor’s level headed sense of responsibility softens many of Deiphobus’s rough edges, and Deiphobus’s enthusiasm breaks through many of Hektor’s more anxiously formed reservations.

Deiphobus would do near anything for Hektor, to a concerning degree in the eyes of some, but Hektor, by his nature, isn't overly controlling. He doesn't want Deiphobus to change how he is. Mostly, the only place Hektor truly pushes him is on moral grounds, for better rather than for worse.

Deiphobus hates to spend time overthinking anything, which benefits him in some ways, but also frequently has him following the example of those around him without considering what might lean towards cruelty. Hektor never tolerates hurtful and needless rudeness or otherwise, and their friendship doesn’t spare Deiphobus his reprimands.

Hektor's needling, though, has him step back and reexamine his actions and the second look is generally what he needs to correct his missteps. Admittedly, he’ll sometimes act better in some way solely to please Hektor, but far more often than not, he’ll come to recognize why it’s best with time and continue that way from his own compulsion.

(He grows and his conscience sounds irritatingly like Hektor.)

Deiphobus is actually one of the best of his siblings at not holding a grudge. He might for drama or humor’s sake, but once a squabble is past, he’ll easily set it aside in favor of having fun with whoever he fought with.

Regardless of his flaws, Deiphobus is amiable and of the opinion that it’s never worth passing up a good time over some pettiness. He’s never one to ignore the value of little joys, no matter how fleeting they are.

Before the war, when he is still younger, there is Antheus. He’s the pretty son of Antenor, and both Deiphobus and Paris are quite taken with him. Paris’s involvement rubs him the wrong way, but he elects to ignore it as best he can. It doesn’t sit right to consider policing Antheus’s actions. He can hardly demand he stop seeing Paris while still insisting on his company, after all.

Besides, he can’t really complain. Antheus favors him with his presence often, laughing at his jokes, stealing off his plate when they share meals, tumbling with him when they wrestle. And when Antheus lifts his hand to idly toy with his lower lip as he smiles slyly at him, Paris is the last thing on Deiphobus’s mind.

Hektor teases him sometimes when he turns up ruffled from some exchange turned overzealous, but his flustered frustration pales in comparison to his excitement, so Hektor gets away with it. Oh, he loves Antheus and the feeling is so heady, better than the most potent wine.

Then it all shatters when some men rush into the palace with Antheus’s limp body carried between them. He was in the gymnasium with Paris, they learn. One throw from Paris with a warped discus and Antheus was gone. Deiphobus stares at the blood soaked in his lovely hair.

Deiphobus is ready to rip Paris apart, but when his brother is guided in after, there’s just no room for it. He’s in complete hysterics, shaking all over as he hyperventilates, and screaming would have gotten through to him no more than their family’s vain attempts to calm him down.

Paris is inconsolable afterwards. He retreats in on himself, though without any attempt to defend himself, first to give himself the blame. He makes for a pitiful sight, and at first, Deiphobus can’t stand being in his presence at all, to take his anger and grief out on him or otherwise.

It doesn’t take that long for Deiphobus’s anger to grow more painful than cathartic anyway and, well, it is hard to lash out at someone acting exactly how he feels. He feels the same heartbreak and pain he sees in Paris and he can’t find it in himself to rage against him when he’d rather just sit and cry himself.

Paris does take it upon himself to face Deiphobus after a time and claim responsibility for what happened that day. Deiphobus doesn’t forgive him, doing that feels... off, but he manages to convey that he won’t turn on him for the accident with Antheus. He thinks that might make Paris feel better but he can’t truly tell.

It all still hurts then, even as they try to get things to settle. Nothing but more time can do anything more to heal those wounds.

And time passes and then Paris returns from Sparta with Helen, and, well.

The brewing war doesn’t drive a rift between Deiphobus and Hektor, but it does force a new distance between them. The pressure on Hektor spikes and never eases, and the time he has to spare becomes exceedingly rare.

Much of the time the two would have spent for themselves together now shifts to working together to manage the complications that come with this new conflict; Deiphobus has new responsibilities to shoulder himself. More work, less play, but the mutual affection and respect between them remains just as strong as before.

Deiphobus can’t help but feel a certain bitterness over having the casual companionship of his brother taken away from him, but he does all he can to set it aside. He refuses to let it be another source of stress for Hektor, so often too caring for his own good, and he doesn’t hold it against him anyway.

As always, Deiphobus remains aware that these tasks could easily have been his and, privately, he feels woefully inadequate in the face of that possibility. And truly, it just serves to make Hektor even greater in his eyes, handling it all with grace he can’t imagine. He knows he’s not perfect, yet still, it’s hard to imagine that anything could ever truly bring Hektor down.

And so, Deiphobus helps his brother in the ways he can and loves him as ever, always ready and eager to fight at his side.

Deiphobus leads a contingent himself, and does it well. It comes easier to him to manage a smaller group like that. He does as directed and guides his men through the fighting. One can say what they will about his ability to lead, but his capability as a warrior is undeniable.

Things shift between Deiphobus and Paris as well. Much of Troy turns on Paris, some faster than others. Deiphobus ignores the greater dramatics which, in his opinion, help nothing. Still, it is often tempting to berate him for his flippant disregard of the battles so he does, which is, admittedly, not entirely unwarranted.

However, Deiphobus and Paris share a mutual, unspoken understanding that they simply cannot focus on the war at all times. Sometimes it must be set aside. This is more often true to Paris than to Deiphobus, but that invites Deiphobus to keep Paris’s company when he can no longer bear all the stress.

In turn, when Deiphobus approaches him like that, Paris can trust not to be reprimanded as he so often is, as that gets ignored along with the rest of it. So there are times during the war where the two can be found together affably, chatting about nothing important. Their personalities can still mesh in such moments.

And, well, it’s shocking how steady things can stay over nine years of war, but they do. Death and loss become far too familiar companions, but they can do nothing but keep fighting through that, and things proceed much as they have been.

Until, of course, Achilles.

With all the cruelty of fate, it of course follows after they get the closest to driving away the Achaeans as they ever have. Such a brief, amazing hope. In his unmatched fury, Achilles slaughters their soldiers, butchers many of his brothers, escapes Scamander’s rage through the grace of the gods, and drives the army behind Troy’s wall with his advance, except for-

Then-

Hektor is dead.

Deiphobus tastes blood in his throat screaming at the sight behind the chariot.

In a way, it’s a blessing that it takes twelve days to get Hektor’s body and another twelve to bury it. With his death, command of Troy and her allies has passed to Deiphobus, and he could barely lead his own horse after losing Hektor, much less an army.

Deiphobus falls to pieces. He can barely process it, losing the one he held in the highest regard, held every confidence in, believed in to his core. Hektor was the best of all of them and now he’s dead, leaving him shattered. Deiphobus is hysterical, wildly heartbroken.

In this time is when Priam first turns on his remaining sons. He lashes out at them as he prepares to ransom Hektor’s corpse, degrading them as the most worthless of his sons. Still half blind with tears of grief he can’t hold back, he thinks that it’s true in the same moment he thinks of how he will now have to take Hektor’s place, worthless ruin though he is.

Most often, Priam refrains from speaking of his remaining sons after that, and in rare, fleeting heartbeats he almost seems contrite over cursing them. Neither is enough though to keep him from savagely reproaching them in unpredictable instances as Troy continues to spiral towards its doom. Deiphobus shakily chokes down his father’s abuse without a word.

Of course, he returns to the battlefield once Hektor is buried, coming to truly learn the crushing weight of his new role. How did his brother bear this? Every day feels like one failure after another; he’s not strong enough, not smart enough to do this. He tries anyway, each day more taxing than the last.

Deiphobus can hardly bear Paris after Hektor’s death. A large part of him hates him for it, desperate to pin the blame on someone despite knowing deep down that he’s not responsible. Though, even then, part of him is drawn to Paris, broken same as him, shaped by a sort of desperation to grieve for their brother with him. Misery loves company.

His anger burns hotter, but now he can’t bring himself to berate him even in the way he did sometimes before all this. He never confronts him with his hatred, such that it is. He simply avoids Paris entirely, knowing that if he indulges in the impulse to curse him for what happened to Hektor, he would fall apart at the seams.

Even now he can’t face the truth of what happened and keep going. It is all he can do to try never to think about it.

And then, with the aid of Lord Apollo, Paris kills Achilles.

The undecided limbo of Deiphobus’s feelings towards Paris topples into something like affection the moment he hears of it, connecting them once more. Paris has destroyed Hektor’s murderer, avenging him, and that matters to Deiphobus more than anything else.

That night, the two of them drink together until it half kills them, close enough to keep knocking shoulders as they revile Achilles with the worst profanities they know. It’s the only celebration they can muster after everything, but they’re both laughing for the first time since they lost him.

(When the night grows damnably late, Deiphobus’s attempt to laugh turns into retching and Paris collapses to the ground when he tries to get up to help. They suffer the agonizing morning together.)

They make a strange pair from then on. Friendship would be a generous word given the still unavoidable tension between them, but they somehow manage to maneuver around that and share a certain closeness. They maintain it despite differences that grind against each other. Sad as it is, it’s one of the only things either of them have left.

Paris and Deiphobus also weather Priam’s spontaneous tirades together. Usually wordlessly, but there is something to be said for the company of someone enduring the same pain you are. It is a quiet solidarity, but a significant one.

They talk of the war far more often now. Every day it devours more and more of their lives, always harder and harder to ignore or set aside. On rare occasions, they do still manage it. Those conversations make for a breath of fresh air, though that does little to stave off the feeling of drowning.

And then Paris takes a poisoned arrow and dies.

Deiphobus doesn’t wail and sob in the same way he did for Hektor. He’s too numb for it now. It hurts in an unnatural, distant sort of way. All he can muster is a ugly, stilted feeling of shame for letting himself come to care for him in the first place. Of course he would die like the rest, he should know this by now. He crumbles further.

After Paris’s loss, there's only two reasonable options for what to do with Helen. Either they need to return her to Menelaus or arrange a new marriage and keep her in Troy.

Helen pleads to be returned to her first husband but Deiphobus competes with Helenus to be the one who weds her. Troy does not stop them. There is a quiet but tangible tension to the city and he doesn’t think their people would tolerate Helen departing. He competes with everything he has left and he wins. And they marry.

That first night, Helen stares at his back while sitting in her new place on his bed. She expected to be treated like a piece of meat, a feeling she's grown well used to through living her life under the eyes of men, but he's barely even looking at her. He fought for her hand with an undeniable, feral sort of desperation. What was it for if he doesn't even want her?

"Why?" she asks him. "Why bother going through every effort to marry me only to be so cold now? What do you want?" Her voice would cut razor sharp if only she wasn't so tired.

He turns to face her with bloodshot eyes narrowed in a glare, riddled with barely restrained anger and grief. "I'm not letting you leave," he forces out and Helen pushes down the urge to scoff because that much is obvious.

"It has to be worth something," he continues. "There has to be something we fought for. If we just let you go back, then it won't have been worth jack shit." He paces, not looking at her again. "I won't allow that. Don't think you can avoid all this so easily now that Paris is gone. There has to be a point. My brother is dead because of this shit! If you're gone, then what would be the fucking point?!"

His brother. He means Hektor. He means Paris. He means every last one of them, so many dead. He means Hektor.

Helen doesn't reply. There is nothing she can say to that. For all that it doesn't make a difference, what he's laid before her is something she knows well. She's spent so long now berating herself and blaming herself for all that's come to pass and she understands. She hates this, all she wants is to go home, but she understands him.

She knows that they both hate each other and themselves all in equal measure. What a wretched pair they make, Helen thinks.

Not that they make much of a pair at all. They're rarely ever together. Deiphobus camps outside whenever he can, and when he can’t, he goes out of his way to avoid her. Helen accepts it as the best she can expect from the truly miserable situation this has become. The war drags on, but the truth hangs in the air that Troy is losing.

Then the horse.

The people, starving so desperately for peace, bring it inside the walls. Deiphobus tries to be cautious. He tries to think of what Hektor would have done. He commands Helen to walk around the horse, calling out in the voices of the Achaeans' wives. If there's some wretched spy or invader, let them show themselves. He'll kill them.

No one answers. Deep down just as desperate for peace as them all, he breathes a sigh of relief and leaves the damn horse.

He hopes the Achaeans filled their mouths with blood, biting their tongues as hard as they must have.

Troy is burning. The Achaeans fill the streets with slaughter; they are everywhere. Reunited with her husband after so, so long, Helen tells Menelaus where Deiphobus is. And so, Deiphobus dies alongside Troy.

(Deiphobus and Hektor meet again in the Underworld and Deiphobus tries to apologize for his failure to keep Troy safe. Hektor will hear none of it, refusing any of the anger he has every right to put on him. Still, a long time passes where Deiphobus silently and anxiously wonders if that was a lie, if Hektor truly does hate him for what happened.

Hektor keeps throwing him tense, unsettled glances sometimes when he thinks he’s not looking, even though he never says a thing. Each one worms further and further underneath his skin and he starts to squirm under the conviction that he’s done something wrong. Something Hektor holds against him.

When it finally grows so unbearable that Deiphobus confronts him about it at last, Hektor flinches and doesn’t disguise his fear and upset. Deiphobus braces himself. But then, mangled in with confusing, ashamed apologies, Hektor recounts for the first time how he died.

Athena luring him to his death in Deiphobus’s shape, speaking in his voice. How he turned to face Achilles believing he had support. When he called for a spear from his brother, he was alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I think of it at all, I’m so sorry I let you believe I was angry with you because of it. I’m not, it had nothing to do with you, you shouldn’t have to know of it at all. I just- remember it sometimes. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Deiphobus feels nauseous. Hektor looks even more so.

“If I had actually been there-”

“No! Don’t do this. Achilles would have just killed you too.”

“We wouldn’t have died alone, then.”

They clutch at each other, these battered remnants of their souls, carrying with them the wounds of their lives.)

#the iliad #deiphobus #hektor #hector of troy #paris of troy #and misc others i wont tag lol #trojan war #greek mythology #my writing #goal: make everyone else have thoughts and feelings about deiphobus too #hes my randomly selected emotional support child of priam #and hes perfect for my favorite thing #weird little character studies #hopefully this was at least somewhat interesting to read #its been a long time since ive done a post like this #an unsurprisingly it is way too long lol #sometimes it really is just all or nothing with my headcanons #i also think about the version where achilles is going to marry polyxena and deiphobus grabs him while paris stabs him in the back #inchresting

[qitwrites]

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Midoriya is the one that begins the entire ‘nervous system compression’ ritual.

Back at the training camp, when he was banged and bruised and tattered to all hell, bumping into Shoji had been the best-case scenario. Being wrapped up in his many, many arms had cocooned Midoriya’s body from further damage, provided him with great mobility, and Shoji’s grounding personality had been a major reassurance during a frankly abysmal situation.

After they’d finally recovered Bakugou, and after that tragically big reveal of All Might’s biggest kept secret, something in Midoriya had broken.

He was still doing his best to train his quirk, he was still doing his best to exist and thrive alongside his classmates, to study and work hard and eat well and sleep on time. For the most part, he was himself, and he was doing ok.

But then there were the nightmares. Nightmares in which Bakugou misses Kirishima’s hand, or All Might dies at the hand of All for One, or Midoriya somehow fucks up and gives the League of Villains One for All. There’s visions of his friends laying dead at his feet, of the world burning to the ground, and the utter helplessness of letting his friends down, letting his teacher and his idol down, letting them burn.

Sometimes, the world exerts a pressure on Midoriya that would put Atlas to damn shame.

2 weeks after the Kamino incident, when Midoriya is sitting at his desk, his dumbbell moving up and down as he pores over his notes, a wave of anxiety, sudden and heavy, rolls over him and he can’t breathe. There’s not enough air in the room, in the entire world probably, and his vision tunnels, darkening around the edges. He drops the dumbbell and clutches his head, trying to get his breathing under control, but it isn’t working, and he can’t seem to hear or see or breathe.

Distantly, he remembers the training camp. His memories of that time are tainted by the agony he felt when Dabi had vanished with Bakugou in his grip. He doesn’t remember the more fun parts, the training and the cooking and the overall learning experience. He just remembers pain.

And then, a small part of him, so small he almost misses it, remembers warmth.

He remembers how warm Shoji was. He remembers feeling, amidst all the panic and chaos, a sense of safeness in Shoji’s arms. He remembers burrowing in that space against his back, and he knows, even though they failed, that he was only able to find a way to help Tokoyami because Shoji gave him his support, took care of him, supported his weight and his burden, if only for those few minutes.

He remembers how warm Shoji was. And he realizes, even as he’s choking for air, that he wants to feel it again.

The walk from his dorm to Shoji’s feels endless. He stumbles along and drags his feet, and he’s not really seeing at this point, moving mostly from muscle memory. He usually visits Todoroki and Uraraka in their rooms, but he’d memorized the entire layout within the first three days of moving in. Shoji lives two floors above him, right next to Kirishima.

When he finally gets there, he’s hollow and empty and there’s still not enough air. A flash of worry pierces through him because he doesn’t want to bother Shoji right now. He doesn’t even know if its ok, what he’s about to ask for. He doesn’t know if it’ll help, if it’s what he needs. He worries, the way he always does, and the air around him is disappearing faster, and he just wants to breathe.

Somehow, before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches up and knocks, pulling his hand away quickly.

10 seconds. He’ll give himself 10 seconds to wait and see if anyone answers, and then he’ll leave and never bother Shoji again.

Shoji comes to the door in 4.

He opens up, clad in pajama pants and nothing else, his iconic mask covering the lower half of his face even in his own room. He looks at Midoriya patiently.

‘I-‘ Midoriya chokes out, voice rough and scratchy. ‘I am having a panic attack.’

Shoji’s eyes widen marginally. ‘Whoa, ok. How can I help?’

If his vision hadn’t started to tunnel again as he hears Shoji say that Midoriya might’ve noted how easily Shoji had understood the situation, and how quickly he was asking Midoriya what he wanted, rather than doing whatever he thought was appropriate. He knew what he was doing. Clearly, he’d done this before.

Midoriya tries to breathe in, and it gets stuck somewhere in his chest and everything hurts but he starts to ramble, ‘I read in a scientific journal somewhere that our nervous system controls our emotions and that when we are anxious, there’s a dissonance in how we function and there’s a quick fix for it, well maybe not a fix, but more like a way to help, if only a little. It’s like a nervous system compression.’

Shoji listens to him with a furrowed brow before carefully asking, ‘Are you saying you want a hug? Will it help you if I hug you?’

To put it simply, yes. Midoriya wants a hug. Midoriya needs a hug. His body physically needs to be grounded because there’s not enough air and he’s going to pass out if his breath keeps getting stuck in his throat and his fingers are numb and the back of his neck is cold and it hurts.

Midoriya nods because the words are getting stuck in his throat.

Shoji opens his arms slowly, and Midoriya looks up. Shoji holds his gaze and carefully moves forward, keeping himself completely in Midoriya’s line of sight.

‘I’m going to hug you now,’ Shoji says, ‘and I’m going to hold you tight. If you want me to ease up, or get off, just tap me anywhere once. If you want me to tighten up, tap twice.’

Midoriya feels himself starting to hyperventilate and then -

Warm.

Shoji is so warm. He exudes heat, his skin soft and warm and alive. He wraps himself around Midoriya, and he blankets him from everything, driving away the light, the distant sounds of Ashido yelling at Kaminari, the cries of the cicadas, everything. He holds Midoriya against his chest, and he holds him tight. Shoji is strong, ridiculously so, and he knows Midoriya is strong too. He holds him with the kind of pressure that actually lets Midoriya breathe.

And so he does. His shoulders start to slump as he takes one deep inhale followed by another, measured and timed. He follows the rhythm of Shoji’s breathing, follows the rise and fall of his chest, and his fingers loosen up, warming slowly. Hesitantly, he brings his hands up and puts them around Shoji’s middle and receives an encouraging squeeze.

From there, the tension seeps out of him, slow and heavy, draining out of every jagged edge and every crack in his body. When he feels another wave of anxiousness, he taps Shoji’s back twice, and Shoji squeezes, hard enough that Midoriya’s breath stutters, but also hard enough that the anxiety slips away, almost tangible in its intensity. Belatedly he realizes that he’s been crying, but he can’t apologize when his face is smooshed against his friend’s chest.

After what seems like forever, Midoriya is breathing again. He feels somewhat normal. He feels as close to normal as possible, at least. He has feeling everywhere in his body. Nothing feels stuck in his throat, and his mouth isn’t dry. His tears have stopped, and his hands aren’t shaking. His heart is beating, fast and strong and slow. He takes in one more steadying breath before tapping Shoji’s spine once.

The arms around him loosen slowly, opening him back to the world. The overhead lights are bright, almost too much, but Midoriya looks straight ahead, right at Shoji’s chest as he pulls his arms off and steps back slowly. Shoji keeps his arms on Midoriya’s shoulders, and he waits. Patiently, he waits for Midoriya to speak, he waits for him to make the next move.

‘I’m ok,’ Midoriya says, rubbing at his eyes. He sees Shoji nod and pull away his arms, always in Midoriya’s line of sight.

‘That’s good. Can you see and hear properly?’ Midoriya nods. ‘Awesome! And your breathing is ok?’ Midoriya nods again.

‘That’s great Midoriya, well done.’

Midoriya barks out a watery chuckle, and then he remembers his tears.

‘Oh,’ he says, reaching into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief, ‘I haven’t used this yet. Please wipe off my tears and possible snot.’ He turns beet red with embarrassment.

Shoji doesn’t laugh though, or even look disturbed. He takes the offered cloth and wipes his chest gently.

‘No problem at all. I will give this back after washing it.’

Midoriya shakes his head, ‘It’s my snot, it’s fine! I can just…’

‘It’s ok, Midoriya. I’ve got it. Really not a problem.’

They stand by the door for a while longer, not speaking but not really needing to either. Shoji is just endlessly patient, and Midoriya is breathing again, and the world feels ok.

When he feels brave enough, Midoriya looks up and catches Shoji’s eyes.

‘Thank you.’ It’s quiet, but his voice doesn’t waver.

Shoji gives him a nod. His eyes are softer, just a little bit. ‘It was not a problem at all.’

Midoriya worries his bottom lip with his teeth before breathing out with a huff. ‘I, um, I was hoping I could, maybe, if this happened again, I could come back to you for a, you know, a nervous system compression? If you’re ok with it?’

Shoji’s eyes go softer still, and he holds Midoriya’s gaze the entire time as he says, ‘Absolutely. I’m here when you need me. Don’t forget that, ok?’

Midoriya gives him a smile, small and tentative but true, and Shoji squeezes his arm. They say their goodbyes in hushed tones and Midoriya walks back to his dorm slowly, feeling more aware of himself than he has in days.

That night, he doesn’t dream. It’s the best sleep he’s had since Kamino.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha: thicker than blood #midoriya izuku #shoji mezo #panic attack #hurt/comfort #platonic comfort #i think shoji would make a great hugging partner #midoirya knows this too #i think the entire class would face a lot of nightmares and anxieties post kamino you nkow?? #they all need a hug damn

[henqtic]

𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!hufflepuff!rReader

summary: you see a special constellation on Draco’s birthday.

word Count: 2.8k 

warnings: Bullying

y/n/n= your nick name

masterlist. // taglist form. // request more works.

—————————

It was July 31st 1985. 

The warm summer air was blowing past your dress. You were sitting on the field in front of the cottage that you and your mother had lived in. You were thinking about Luna and how you should pay her a visit she was a bit odd but, did make for a good person to talk to. Soon your thoughts were interrupted by a black owl landed on your shoulder you could easily tell it was your boyfriend’s Draco Malfoy.

ミ★

You have been friends since your second year of Hogwarts. He had gotten tired of you not listening to his bullying about you being a Hufflepuff and just offering him a smile and saying some sort of compliment that would make him blush every time.

“Hey l/n going to make more friends with more house elves,” he said with a smirk

“I like what you did with hair today Draco”

“I do my hair like this everyday,” he responded as he turned his head away from you trying to hide the blush that covered his cheeks.

It was near the end of the school year when Draco had found you under a tree with a book with chocolate chip cookies.

You were wearing a yellow sweater with flowers embroidered on it, paired with yellow plaid pants and banana earrings. An outfit that Draco had once referred to as “to Hufflepuff even for a Hufflepuff”.You were sitting on a comfy blanket that your mom had made for you for an occasion just like this.It was calming to be away from the castle more specifically Draco. He was so pale he looked like a muggle’s depiction of a vampire so you were surprised to even had spotted him outside without screaming of have much it burned.

“ l/n your sitting under my tree”

“Would you like a cookie,” you’d say as if you didn’t even hear what he had said to you.”Did you not unders- what did you say?” He was honestly confused as to why you a girl he liked but instead of admitting to it he bullied her of all things.

“I offered you a cookie their really good in my opinion” you’d say with a smile, “They’re chocolate chip, my prefect had to help me but I like to think I put most of my love in it”

“I- Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a cookie,” he admitted. “Not like you poisoned it or anything,” He said with a low chuckle following behind. You responded with a breathy laugh. Maybe he’ll be nicer to me this time.

“You Hufflepuffs are entirely too nice for that”

You sighed as he sat on your blanket and gave him a chocolate chip cookie out of your bag with a sad look in your eye that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Everyday he made fun of you, for something you couldn’t control. Something you never wanted to change. You noticed how his friends were more of bodyguards to him so you let him pick on you because it brought him some sort of “happiness”, but it was getting to you. If you ever told him that he would say that it was incredibly “Hufflepuff” of you.

You looked toward the blonde boy in front of you with a feeling of anxiousness. Maybe it was sadness starting to build up that would eventually burn your throat as you cried like last night.

“Why do you bully me so often?” you said with a sad tone while handing him a napkin and gesturing to his face.

He had a bit of chocolate smeared at the top of his lip although you were saddened and angry at his behavior towards you, you did know he liked to look at his best at all times. Merlin why am I so loyal to a boy who wouldn’t do a thing for me, you thought.

“I’ve been putting up with it for the past two years and its tiring Draco” Your statement was laced with a bit of anger. Something he had never heard before. “Us Hufflepuffs,” you spat, “Aren’t always nice and jolly you know.” You were staring in front of you. “I didn’t want to say this because it would inflate your already large for nothing ego,” you said as you turned to look at him. His face adorned a look of shock. 

“But sometimes your words get to me,” your voice had completely betrayed you by cracking and a single tear dropped down your face that you quickly wiped.

He didn’t say anything with his mouth opening and closing it like a fish out of water. You scoffed as you got up and dusted off your jeans, “Here, you can keep the cookies you seem to like them,” no matter how sad and angry were, you, you still said that sentence with a sincere undertone. “I’m going to go somewhere where someone won’t make me feel horrible for something I can’t control.”

“Wait”

“Why should I wa-”

“I’m sorry” “your sorry,” you challenged in a sarcastic tone. “That is what I said didn’t I?” You shot him an annoyed look, you were not in the mood for him to start again. He noticed your face and quickly said “Sorry again.” He sighed and stood up right in front of you. “I’m sorry for bullying you and I want you to forgive me.” His wrote to his mum about his problem. She worded the apology differently but you still got what he was trying to say. “Oh” “Yea,” he said awkwardly while staring at his feet. 

You had two decisions walk away and leave him to deal with himself or to offer a friendship. Getting tired of arguing with yourself you stuck out your hand and said with a small “I think we’ll do better as friends and not as bully and bullied. He looked at your hand for a moment before shaking it “That’d be nice, I guess,” he responded not trying to sound as eager as he was. He also didn’t want the only civil conversation to end with his crush so easily so he quickly said with hope in his eyes “We should sit back down, yea, I’ll share the cookies they’re not bad”

“Yea, we should.” For the next hour or two you and Draco talked and got to know one another 

His crush grew and yours had started to bloom.

ミ★

He brought you to the yule ball as his date and admitted that he liked you more than just a friend and you admitted the same now you were reading a lengthy parchment about him apologizing about how he couldn’t find time to owl you because his father and mother were planning his birthday party on June 5. 

He also mentioned how he convinced them to not throw a big one like they did every time, he describes it as less of a birthday party and more of an opportunity for his parents to talk to other purebloods and him to talk to their kids so he had no problem cancelling and instead spending the day with you. 

“Very-un Draco and very Draco,” you said out loud while looking down at the bottom of the parchment.

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄ · · · 🏹꒱₊˚・｡ﾟ･

┊ Love, can you actually believe I convinced mum not to throw a big party?

┊ She was at least two times as hard to convince than father. I just wanted to 

┊ let you know that on my birthday, I hope you haven’t forgotten it but if you 

┊ have it’s June 5th. I don’t want to spoil anything so trust me and flu or get 

┊ your parents to apparate you here around 8pm. I hope to see you, have a 

┊ great rest of your day and sorry again for not owling for three days.

┊ -yours forever Draco

┊

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄ · · ·🏹 ꒱₊˚・｡ﾟ･

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄ · · · 🏹꒱₊˚・｡ﾟ･

┊ I’d never forget your birthday Draco. I’ve had your gift wrapped and 

┊safely tucked away in my dresser. I think you’ll really like it :) Of course

┊ I’ll come. Oh! and I’ll bring chocolate chip cookies I know how much

┊ you like them

┊ -yours forever y/n

┊

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄ · · ·🏹 ꒱₊˚・｡ﾟ･

June 5th 1985, 7:50

Your mum was never a person to be late anywhere so you were dressed 10 minutes early with a white dress on, a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and Draco’s present in your bag.You did your makeup 20 minutes prior because although you did love to express your creativity, it was harder to draw flowers on your eyelids half awake.

“Darling hurry up we don’t want to be late,” you heard your mum call.

“Coming!”

“Do you have everything with you”

“Yes mum,” you said with an eye roll. “Isn’t it adorable a Slytherin and Hufflepuff,” you could say she was more excited about your relationship than you were with the way she was talking.

Your father too had been a Slytherin too while your mum was a Hufflepuff like you.Ironic really how their daughter was following in their footsteps.“Mum,” you said in a desperate tone “oh come on dear, grab on,” she said as she reached out her arm, you grabbed on and felt like you were being sucked through at time.When you touched the ground you smiled in a success of not throwing on your mum’s shoes.

Then, you took a moment to look around. Draco’s house  manor was huge.You’d thought he had been exaggerating it maybe he was under exaggerating. It looked like a castle, a dark one at that it wasn’t very lively to be honest, and you would never trade the cottage you lived in for it.

Your mum went to knock on the door with you by her side when the door quickly opened and you were met with a tall blonde hugging you and you eagerly hugged him back.

His head was in the crook of your neck and he said in a tone only for you to hear “I’m happy you came summers been rather boring without you” “I wouldn’t have missed it,” When you pulled away Draco was met with the sight of your mum smiling like she had just seen the greatest thing in the world. He reached out his hand to introduce himself when she cut him off by hugging him and saying.

“Oh dear, you must be Draco,” She said as she pulled back, “ y/n/n here as told me all about you, how nice you are, how much of a great-” You quickly stopped her before she could say anything else to embarrass you “Mum let Draco talk yea, seemed like he had something really important to say” 

You could feel Draco’s smirk burning itself into the side of your head and he looked away and said “Oh yes, mother and father wanted to say hi before you left the door is just down the hall and the third one on your right,I can take you if you want”

“Oh no that’s alright I’ll leave you and y/n alone, also happy birthday dear.” He smiled brightly and looked at her as she walked away and then turned to you and said smugly as he tucked one of your hairs behind your ear, “I’m a great what exactly” “A um great boyfriend,” it was embarrassing how you could lose your words around him.

He leaned in closer and said with a smirk “To me it sounded like she was going to say kisser” “Draco your a horrible kisser” “That’s the complete opposite of what you tell me normally,” he said with a mixed look of confusion and amusement. You were really regretting telling your mum everything about your relationship.He pulled away, grabbed your hand and said “Come on you have to see this'' 

He dragged you all the way to a spot with a blanket and an older looking telescope.It was beautiful really but it wasn’t your day “Draco this is beautiful but it’s your birthday you didn’t  have to do this” “Love, of course i didn't have too but I wanted to,” He looked at you with a bright smile “I’d do anything for you and don’t worry the night is still mostly about me” He brought you to sit down on the blanket and immediately said “You did bring the cookies, didn’t you”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Yes,I brought them Draco.” He bit into one and said, “Your an angel for baking these for me love” “I’d do anything for you Draco'' You suddenly remembered the gift you had in your bag “Alright um here’s your gift” He carefully unwrapped it and it was a moving picture framed of you and him in your quidditch robes in third year his arm around your shoulders and you were both looking at each other. 

“How did you get this,” he said as he admired the picture  “Mum found it when looking through her things, said she took it and forgot about it and she gave it to me,” you said with a smile before he could even thank you reached into your bag again, “That’s not all” “Really,” he said eagerly.

 “Really,” you reassured” “Mum found that after I got your gift” “You said as you grabbed the dark green box and handed it to him “It was rather hard looking for something that was exactly your taste but I think you’ll really liked it” “l/n are you proposing to me? Because you do I wanted to do that first,” He said smugly. “No but it is- ugh just open it and you’ll see,” you said not wanting to ruin the surprise. He breathed out air as he saw it, a silver snake ring that would coil around the finger he put it on.

“How’d you find one of these, I’ve been wanting one since second year ever since Crabbe mistaken it for a worm and threw it into the lake,” he said as he put it around his finger and looked at you with nothing but love in his grey-blue eyes. “That's just horrible. I'll have a talk with Crabbe when we go back to school.” “Even if it wasn’t a worm he shouldn’t have thrown it into the bloody lake”

“It’s alright, I prefer yours anyway,” he looked like he was about to say something when you pulled out your wand and said “Oh that not all I wanted to make a little extra you.” You tapped the wand on the snake’s head and it started to move. He looked at it in awe of how someone could be so brilliant. You saw the look in his eyes and smiled at how much he liked the gift. You turned your head to look up at the sky when Draco started to say something you definitely weren’t expecting. 

“Merlin I’m in love with you” That was the first time he ever said that to you. You turned your head to be met with his eyes and swallowed thickly to try and make sure you weren’t dreaming. “What’d you say,” you breathed out with a smile on your face. “He got closer to you and said, “I said I’m in love with you” he kissed your nose and then spoke again in a softer tone “I love you y/n” You thought that right then and there your soul had been taken out if you and you had an out of body but before you could stop yourself you said, “ I love you too Draco” “So much”

“You really do?”

“Yes Draco, I really do”

“Say it again,” he looked at you with big eyes.

You kissed his forehead “I love you” Both of his cheeks “I love you” “I love you” his nose “I love you” and then pecked his lips “I love you” in the end of it he was left a blushing mess.

“Godric you're amazing” He cleared his throat trying not to scream at his lungs that his girlfriend just told him she loved him about six times. “The constellation I wanted you to see should be out now.” 

You both laid on your backs and stared at the sky you scooted closer to Draco as he had his hand out looking for it.He abruptly stopped and said “It’s right there” You picked up your hand to point at the same place he was but you couldn’t find it exactly so he took both of your pointed hands and pointed it at the Draco Constellation.

“It’s the Draco Constellation,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear. You turned to look at him with your hand still in his as he said “I’m named after it.” He turned to you with a child like smile and said “Wicked right”

“Yea wicked,” you whispered back. Both of your faces were close as Draco took yours and his hand from pointing at the sky. He held your face with one as he leaned into kiss you.

This was in Draco’s opinion his best birthday ending with him kissing the girl he loved and the girl that loved him under the stars.

ミ★

A/N- I was in the middle of writing this right and I got the months wrong thinking that the Draco constellation came out in June and not July. Hopefully you can look over it for the sake of the story :) Dude and I’m also kinda proud of this one anyways feel free to leave any feedback or constructive criticism.

#draco fluff #draco x yn #draco x hufflepuff!reader #slytherin x hufflepuff #draco x reader #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fluff #draco malfoy #malfoy #draco oneshot #draco imagine #i want this to happen to me so bad

[t-lostinworlds]

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [1]

A/N: Okay so here’s that angst I’ve been babbling about haha. This was so hard for me to write for some reason, like I genuinely felt nervous and anxious, and I cried a lil so yeah asdfghjkl prepare for some heartbreak.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find out the real reason why Tom has been distant, but it wasn't due to something out of his control, no, it was entirely his choice, and it wasn’t the right one.

Warnings: just pure heart wrenching angst and then some.

Word Count: 5.6k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

It's been going on for a month, maybe even more. You weren't proud on letting it stretch for this long, but you were still holding out hope, your faith in him too strong.

Tom was growing distant, farther from your reach despite the fact that you sleep on the same bed and live in the same house. The house that was once coated with warmth, laughter and happiness, but now, it's different, somewhat... cold, unnerving.

As a matter of fact, he barely even is home, and when he is, he treats you as someone who's just occupying the space, not someone who has seen him for him, naked and flawed, both demons and angels alike.

He's always glued to his phone, other times, fast asleep, or that's what you think anyway when he's in the bedroom at two in the afternoon. Simply put, he never truly gets to spend much time with you at all, despite being in the same house.

Kisses don't feel as warm, hugs just the same, and the last time you made love... gosh, it was a month and a half ago, which sounds so bad given that, that's how long he's been home for, right after his junket for Onward.

It's like there's an obvious wall between you two, and you know there is, you're just ignori—no, denial is the right word. You're in denial of what your three-year relationship has whittled to.

You're trying to not think much of it, blame it on the busyness of his life, but there's always something about a gut feeling that is too hard to ignore.

"I'm going to spend the night at Harry's again, we're pulling an all-nighter to get the final parts for the script done," Tom stated flatly the moment he stepped into the kitchen, all out of breath and sweaty from his morning run.

You tried to mask your added disappointment as you greeted him with a small smile. Added because you were already disappointed before he came home, and now you're even more let down due to the news he's brought.

It's been an everyday thing, waking up to a cold, empty space beside you in morning, and when you've been sleeping facing away from each other, a literal gap between you two, it makes your heart hurt. But you brush it off every time, seeming used to it.

It's been a weekly thing, him staying at Harry's, or rather, the twin's house overnight to finish this script they've been working so hard on. You were proud of course, never failing to support him through and through, but it doesn't make sleeping alone in that queen-size bed less dreadful.

Tom moved towards your place in front of the kitchen island, placing a swift kiss on your cheek before going for a glass of water. The gesture didn't make the butterflies in your stomach flutter as much as it used to, because there's something off, like he did it out of habit, not because he's sincere about it.

"Breakfast?"

Tom shook his head no as he chugged the tall glass of water empty. His eyes were elsewhere, never meeting yours as he muttered under his breath, "I'm going to go and take a shower."

He didn't even wait for a response as he swiftly left the kitchen, left you there to eat on your own, just like the past few.

You brush it off. You're getting used it.

***

"Wait, you're leaving now?" you asked with a frown, standing up from the couch once you saw Tom emerge from the hallway, dressed in a casual white shirt and denim jeans with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He only nodded at you with a hum before retreating towards the kitchen, the sound of the fridge opening and closing bouncing off the white walls. You glanced at the clock perched on top of the fireplace: 10:46 am.

You couldn't stop your frown from deepening as you followed his figure towards the front door. "Uhm, you coming home for lunch?" you tried, still hopeful, even though you already know the answer.

"No, Harry and I will just order something." Tom lifted his head up from his phone to shoot you a small smile, to which you tried to return, and you did, it just didn't come out as honest as you wanted. He noticed this, his eyebrows furrowing as the curve on his lips slowly disappeared. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head and smiled wider, brighter, maybe a little too bright. "It's nothing," you breathed out to try and cover up the lie.

Of course you've talked to him about it, the whole him not often being home, not spending much time with you, but each time you brought it up, it always ends up in a fight. Always.

Voices are raised, accusations are then thrown, all of which are pointed towards you. Too clingy, not understanding his schedule, tying him down, not letting him live his life and it goes on and on and on, each one just cutting deeper, more painful than the prior.

You just don't have the energy to deal with it again, not now, not when he's about to leave. You can't bear to sleep alone as is, what more with an angry and hurting heart?

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, head tilted to the side, trying to get a read on your expression. You nodded, smile never wavering, "Yeah, have fun writing, I love you."

Those last three words hung in the air for a few seconds, almost taunting, deafening. You mean it, undeniably, from every letter to each syllable; you mean it with all your heart. But somehow, in some way, there's something tied to it. You couldn't pinpoint as to what it is exactly, but the words felt heavy between you two.

"Bye. I'll see you tomorrow." Tom cleared his throat before walking closer to you, arms wrapping nimbly around your form to give you a light squeeze, turning his head to press his lips on your cheek. His touch was feathery, making it feel like it's not even there in the first place. You could only hum with a nod, smile forced as you watched him out the front door, inside his car and drive off, disappearing down the road.

You let out a shaky breath as you willed yourself not to cry, fists opening and closing as if you're trying to get a hold of your sanity, anxiousness filling you up to the brim. Your eyes were trained on the skid marks left by the tires of his car, the only trace that he's been here, but also a reminder that he has once again left without even staying for a maximum of sixty minutes.

It's nothing. He's just busy.

Echoed your thoughts, over and over to try and reassure yourself, repeating it like a mantra to tune out the horrible conclusions, the nasty what if's that were crawling out of the depths of your mind, pushing its way to the surface.

It's nothing. He's just busy.

But there's always something about a gut feeling that is too strong for you to ignore.

***

"Thank you so much, have a good day." You smiled at the cashier, taking the two bags of take outs in each hand — Nando's to be specific — before making your way out of the building and into your car.

Once the bags were safely secured on the passenger's seat, you grabbed the wheel, but you stayed there for a few minutes, drumming your fingers against it. Your eyes glanced down at the key that was already in place, you just had to turn it and drive, but you hesitated.

You were having second thoughts if you should just go home and eat the food yourself, to just not bother to surprise Tom. You visited him on the first time he stayed at the twin's house, and that didn't end well. Your excited smile was quickly slapped off your face when Tom looked at you with nothing but anger and irritation. Said you were a distraction to him, not in a good way, and that's putting it lightly.

Harry and Sam tried to talk to him about it as they found Tom's outburst really uncalled for, but you digress, opting on just going home instead, not wanting to make the problem even bigger. After that, you never tried again.

But maybe this time it's different, maybe, once he sees you've ordered his favorite, he'll be happy about it.

Maybe.

***

Once parked in front of the twins' house, you let out a nervous breath, palms turning clammy as you stared at the image of a chicken plastered on the bag for a good minute. With a sharp intake of breath, you gathered all your courage before grabbing it and making your way out the car.

The walk towards the front door was making you feel anxious, maybe because of past experience or maybe you were just getting too into your head, but either way, your heart was pounding hard against your chest.

Few seconds after pressing the doorbell with a shaky finger, footsteps where soon heard on the other side. You held your breath, waiting for the door to open, and when it did, Harry emerged with a surprised and very confused look on his face.

"Y/N? Hey, what're you doing here?" the boy greeted with a hug, you returning the gesture as much as you could with full hands. He then moved out of the way as he added, "Come in."

"I wanted to surprise Tom with Nando's. I got you and Sam something too," you spoke as you walked down the hallway, lifting the bags up to prove your point, but Harry only furrowed his brows at you, expression growing even more confused, concerned even.

"Did someone say Nando's?" And on cue, Sam appeared, giving you a warm, welcoming hug before offering to take the bags from you to bring them to the kitchen.

Once he disappeared, Harry turned his attention back to you as you reached the living room. "Wait, Tom? I thought he was with you? He said he can't do a session today because he needed to spend time with you?"

It was your turn to look at him with a confused expression. "He said he was going to sleep over again because you're going to pull an all-nighter with the script," you said, hints of worry coating your voice, a certain feeling bubbling inside your stomach.

"Again? Tom hasn't spent the night here, ever." Harry's frown only deepened, especially when he saw the way your face fell at his words.

Knees weakening, you sat on the couch shakily, hands holding the cushion as you tried to steady yourself, both physically and emotionally.

"Does he even come here every week?" you asked, tone soft, a stark contrast to the chaotic battle inside your mind.

Harry sat beside you, his confusion not diminishing. "Well yeah, he comes at around eleven and then goes home after lunch."

You shook your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you avoided Harry's worried gaze. "He doesn't," you took a sharp breath. "He doesn't come home until the next day."

Your voice broke at the end of your sentence, tears brimming in your eyes as your head started to get clouded, darker with every ticking second. The grip you had on the cushion was tight, mind running a hundred miles per second, matching the harsh pace of your heart.

"Y/N, please tell me what's going on," Harry said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You met his gaze, contemplating, weighing if you should tell, or would it be too much to involve them in this too.

You've grown close with the twins, even with Paddy. You've been with Tom for three years, it wasn't surprising that you have grown that bond.

Granted, Harry and Sam have talked to you about their relationships, seeking advice, like a big-sister-little-brothers type of bond. With that said, this is different because it's Tom, their own brother. You don't know how you feel about talking ill about their brother whom they love so much.

"Look, I know you might think it's weird and awkward because Tom and I are brothers, or that I'll choose his side because he's my brother, but I won't if he's in the wrong. When he does something shitty, you know for a fact we'll be the first ones to call him out on it," Harry started once he saw your hesitation, wearing a reassuring smile as he gave your shoulder a squeeze. "And I'm just here to listen. I'm not going to get involved when it's not my place to be. I know you just need an outlet," he added.

You gave him a nod, breath shaky as you tried to think on it again. But with the situation at hand growing overwhelming, with the horrible thoughts eating away inside your brain, a month and a half long of keeping everything to yourself, suffering by yourself, you broke.

Fresh tears streamed down your face endlessly as you poured your heart out to Harry, sobs in between words as you tell him what's been going on, from the very beginning when you noticed something wasn't right, when things stared to change.

Sam came in the living room confused and worried, him and Harry sharing a look before he disappeared again and then came back with a glass of water, because he too understood what you needed, both of them knew you just needed to let it all out.

And you did.

***

The twin's offered for you to stay the night and you were glad. You have no idea what you'd do if you came back in the house and slept alone, don't know if you'd be able to stay sane.

They were both sweethearts about it, not jumping to conclusions of course but just tried to take your mind off of it, even if it's just for a little bit. But you knew you can't run and hide for too long.

It was nearing six pm when you decided it was time to go back home and face whatever it is you needed to face. The moment you turned the corner towards the house, your nerves erupted from head to toe, eyes trained on Tom's car that was parked right on the drive way.

Tears were already threatening to spill, but you kept strong, holding everything in as you turned off the ignition and made your way out of the car. When inside, you kept your head low as you took your shoes and jacket off, trying your hardest to not let out even the tiniest of sniffles.

You hear rustling in the kitchen, and surely enough, that's where you saw him, the one and only Tom Holland, eyebrows furrowed as he stared the cooking book down.

If it was any other day, your heart would've melted. You'd find the sight endearing as he navigates his way around the kitchen, but not today, not when your heart and mind were waging war against each other.

"You're home," you muttered, Tom's head lifting at the sound of your voice, a smile appearing its way onto his lips. It was a simple smile, innocent maybe, but it made your stomach slightly churn.

"Yeah, just arrived ten minutes ago," he said, tilting his head to the side in mere curiosity when you avoided his eyes at all costs, when you didn't even bother to come closer to him. "Where've you been?" he pondered.

You shrugged, seeming nonchalant as you turned your back on him, knowing that your face would give it all away the moment you ask him the question. "Just out. How was writing?"

It was an obvious bait, and of course, him being oblivious, he took it.

"Hard as usual, but we've made progress so it's great." The lie rolled off Tom's tongue like second nature, not even a single hint of remorse in his voice, and that in itself hurts. It made you wonder what else he could have lied about, which could have been so many, too many.

The doubts, the fears, the pain, it was consuming you, from every nerve to every bone, the stinging in your heart ever growing, turning harsher, an agonizing torture.

"What'd you want for dinner love?" he asked, the sound of a page flicking, ringing in your ear. You shut your eyes at the term of endearment, one he's only learned to use again just now, and with what you know, it only makes it hurt even worse.

Tom still had no clue to how you were breaking inside, thoughts trailing to a dark path because of his lies as he kept busy with whatever it is he was trying to cook.

You shook your head in response at his question, despite his eyes not being trained on you, despite him not having a clear view of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, making sure to keep a steady, unwavering tone as you spoke, "I already ate."

"Oh, okay," was the last thing you heard from him as you rushed towards your shared bedroom, palm over your mouth to try and silence the sob the managed to escape.

Of course you'll confront him about it, but not now, you don't have any strength left to do so. You were tired, weakened after pouring it all out to the twins, and you weren't sure if you're ready to hear the truth, not sure if you would be able to handle it.

But despite trying to put it off, the universe had other plans, forcing you to confront it sooner rather than later.

***

Feet heavy, you made your way towards the bed, ready to just crash and drift off into a deep slumber, to escape reality but when you saw the number of glasses on Tom's bedside table, you couldn't help but sigh in dismay.

It's a habit of his, bringing a new glass of water each time and never taking the old one back, creating a whole bunch of just empty glasses on the table. It's become a routine for you to bring them back out yourself, him flashing you a guilty smile each time you give him a pointed look with your hands full of said glasses.

He'll be quick to put on his best puppy eyes to avoid your scolding, using his baby voice as he apologise and you always give in, unable to resist. Maybe that's why he hasn't really learned from it yet.

You made your way over his bedside table, seeing that there are four this time around. You took each one carefully, balancing two in a hand. Before you could turn around to go back to the kitchen, a familiar rectangular device caught your eye, one that was facing up and hooked on a cable. You stared at it for a minute, maybe more.

Two sides of you were bickering, fighting on who should be more in control. One was telling you to just have a peek, that it wouldn't hurt to snoop just a little bit. The other was telling you the exact opposite, that confronting him was the right path. It went back and forth for a moment, like an angel and devil sitting on each shoulder, and you were torn.

Regardless, as if some being was watching from above and controlling your odds, you didn't get to a decision when the screen lit up on its own.

At first glance, it was nothing but a photo of you and Tessa as the lock screen. Your smile was wide as Tessa gave you a proper lick on the cheek, so innocent, nothing but pure love, it was wholesome. But you weren't looking at that, no, your gaze was dead set on the text message that came through, the notification box screaming at your face.

Message from ***:

Had an amazing time last night, you sure know how to make a girl feel good ;) see you next week tommy xx

Ice cold, it was what you felt from head to toe, body numb but you felt oh so sick in your stomach, outright disgusted.

As a tear rolled down your cheek, the glasses you held with your fingers, slipped from your grasp, landing on the floor with a loud shatter. It turned to pieces, scattered on the floor in shards, all broken, a mirror of the state of your heart.

You stood in your place, stuck and frozen, unable to move as your whole world crashed and burst into flames. Everything you've ever known about your relationship, about him, all were thrown out the window, value reduced to nothing.

The worst nightmare that you've conjured in your head ended up being a reality. The nagging voice that you kept hearing over and over was right all along.

It was a matter of time for Tom to appear. You knew he heard the glasses breaking as you left the door ajar, and surely enough he came rushing in with a worried look on his face, eyes landing on your tear-coated face to the broken glass around your feet.

"Darling are you hurt? What happened?" he asked, the most he's been concerned of your being since the day it all changed.

Before he could take another step closer, you held a hand up, Tom stopping in his tracks, his concern replaced by confusion. "Tom, where were you last night?" you questioned again, hoping that he'll finally have some kind of remorse, but he didn't, he kept on his lies.

"I already told you, I was with Harry writin—"

"You weren't," you cut him off, the hurt in your voice crystal clear. "Sorry?" he asked, still confused, still unaware that you already know the truth. There was no beating around the bush anymore, you just couldn't take it for much longer. Head turning to look at him straight in the eyes, you stated bluntly,

"I was with Harry and Sam last night, you weren't."

Tom's whole face drained out of color, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at you with guilt, and that's when you stared right at the face of a caught man.

Your lips trembled as you painfully held his gaze. Those brown eyes... looking at those brown used to fill you up with so much warmth, made you feel safe, loved. But now, you just felt betrayed, so betrayed.

"Who is she?"

Tom shook his head hurriedly, brows knitted together at your accusation. "What? There's no one—"

"Tom, please, don't make it hurt some more by lying to my face," you sobbed as you shook your head at him. He looked away at that, the pain in your eyes too much for him to handle, especially with the way your voice was filled with so much sorrow, all because of him.

"Who is she?" you asked again, firmer this time, the slight growl in your voice making Tom's head snapped back at you.

His frown deepened when his eyes fell on the floor for a second before it landed back on your face. "Darling please move away from there, you're going to get hurt," he coaxed, his heart hammering hard against his chest, thoughts a jumbled mess in his head as he watched you break little by little in front of him.

"Tom," you pleaded, not wanting to stall anymore, hands balling into fists as more tears ran down your face, each one dropping on the ground with a silent thump. Tom held his hands up in surrender as he nodded, "Just move away from the broken glass first, please Y/N."

You took a deep, shaky breath to try and rid of the anger, to try and be rational as you moved, stepping over the shards of glass with caution before fully facing him, keeping a much needed distance for you to stay sane.

Silence rang in the room as you waited for him to speak, to let the truth out because there was nowhere to hide anymore. Tom saw this in your eyes, how you just wanted honesty, so he swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes holding your gaze as his heart felt heavier.

"I met her at the press junket for Onward..." he trailed off, voice merely above a whisper but the words tasted vile against Tom's tongue, heart breaking, guilt overflowing once you let out a broken whimper.

You looked away, arms crossing over your chest in mere defense, and piece by piece, it all fell into place, the puzzle completed.

All those weeks of asking why he's been acting the way he is, cold and distant. Just asking why he hasn't given you any affection aside from the small hugs and barely-there kisses on the cheek. All the days questioning why he wouldn't touch you the way he used to, show you how much he loves you and now, well, now you know why.

He was giving it to someone else, showing it to someone else, fucking someone else and it hurts, cruelly it hurts.

Although some questions were now answered, a few more grew, like a hydra, cut off one head and two more shall grow.

Your heart was in deep, excruciating pain, head full of even more questions, full of why's, but something in you clicked, like a switch turning off as the anger left your body, as you slowly went numb.

"Please say something," Tom whispered, voice strained, and you can see how his hands were twitching, itching to reach for you, to hold you, but the look you were giving him was an enough hint for him to keep his distance.

"What do you want me to say?" you whispered, ever so softly as you screwed your eyes shut, the tears never ceasing to run down your already wet cheeks.

And the way that there was no anger in your voice anymore, just pure pain, it scared Tom, the dread starting to consume him. He knows you, he knows how much you blame yourself for the things you have no fault in, and he was sure you were blaming yourself right at this moment.

"Yell at me, curse me out, fucking hell, punch me in the face, anything. Please don't bottle it up," he begged, taking one step closer, and you stood in your place as you felt yourself shut down, brain closing off as well as your heart.

With a deep breath, you met his brown orbs again with a sad smile. "It's okay Tom."

That's when the tears brimmed in Tom's eyes, because that's when he knew. That was the tell-tale sign that you were done, that you weren't going to put up a fight anymore.

It was that moment when Tom knew that you've given up on the relationship, given up on him.

Flashes of memories clouded his vision, both good and bad. Then it was like he watched himself in third person as he came into terms as to how he treated you so badly for the past month and half.

It was like a big punch in the face as he was reminded of all the rotten and sinful things he's done, right at your face but especially behind your back.

How has he managed to become such a monster? A poor excuse of a man?

"It's not oka—"

"I just—I-I'm just going to leave," you ducked your head low and attempted to walk past him, but Tom was quick to grab your arm, turning you back around to face him.

"No, darling please, let me have it, blame me, please, be angry at me. This is all on me Y/N," Tom's lips trembled as he spoke, his shaking fingers interlacing with yours. His were eyes boring deep into your pain-filled orbs, just trying to find any sort of direction, because he has no clue on what to do anymore, no idea on how to fix things, if it was even fixable at this point.

"Tom, it's okay—"

"Stop saying that! You know it's not fucking okay!" Tom cried, his pink cheeks turning damp as he looked at you with so many emotions. There was the guilt, the regret, the hurt, and the fear, but most of those emotions are felt when everything is already too late.

And it was.

You let go of his hand and brought it up to cup his face, thumb grazing his skin sweetly as you gave him a small smile.

This made Tom cry harder. You were such a sweetheart, a kind soul, and the fact that he took advantage of that, the fact that he broke your precious heart when you did nothing but love him unconditionally, Tom wanted to beat himself up until he's all knocked out.

"You already made your choice Tom, and now, I think it's time I make mine," you said softly. The way that you were being so calm about this was unbearable. It was like you're taking the hit like you deserved it, and this was making Tom feel even more disgusted at himself than he already is.

"What is your choice?" Tom held his breath, waiting for the worst case scenario as he leaned into your touch, not knowing if he'll ever feel it again after this.

"Me."

You didn't need to explain yourself, and you saw it in his eyes that he understood. For the month that he's changed, you were so patient with him, always thought about what he feels, making excuses for him and seeing it in his perspective. But now, it was time for you to think about your own feelings too, to think what's best for you, to put yourself first.

Now, you were choosing yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking asshole, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this," Tom sobbed, words repeating over and over, realising deep inside how much he's wasted your love, how much he's thrown away, and the reason wasn't even worth it, he threw it all for nothing. He dropped his head, feeling too ashamed of himself, he was so revolted by what he's become, all the things he done.

You let out a soft sob, both hands now holding his face as you slowly lifted his head back up. "Be happy, that's all I want for you," you said, and you meant it.

You were surprised yourself how you don't feel much resentment. Maybe it was how strong your love was for him, or maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet, but you do mean it. You still want him to be happy, with whatever choice he has to make next.

"You know I don't deserve that," Tom whimpered with a shake of his head, bottom lip quivering as the pain he felt only magnified from there.

You didn't respond to that anymore, knowing that it was time to go, that you needed to go. What you did next just broke Tom's heart even more. You leaned closer, your lips feeling warm against his forehead, pulling away as you stared into his brown eyes with a broken smile on your lips, and you whispered, oh so tenderly,

"I love you."

Tom didn't get to say another word, didn't get a chance too as you took his hands, gave it one last squeeze before making your way out the room.

He stood there, incapable of moving, mind lost, his heart all broken, and when he heard the front door slam shut, that's when everything finally came into light, the weight of his actions, the weight of his choices.

Tom turned towards his bedside table, treading slowly to avoid the glass. With the phone in hand, he turned it on. He felt himself grimace at the message that he assumed you read, such a vile and revolting thing, what he did. But it was unimportant to him now as he closed it, the screen now cleared.

A soft whimper came out of his lips as he stared at the screen, you and Tessa staring right back at him, your smile bright with so much joy and light covering your features. Tom felt so angry at himself knowing that he caused that smile to disappear, that he was the reason why the light has been snuffed out of you.

It's so ironic how realization always comes too late, because just now does Tom realize how much he's lost, how much he screwed things up. Tom just wasted all those precious years where you did nothing but love him, cherish him, brought him nothing but utter happiness. You made him the best man that he could be, and he destroyed that.

With a gut wrenching scream, Tom threw his phone with all his might, the device hitting the wall with a loud crack. It fell on the floor with a thump just as Tom fell on the bed with a broken sob, face buried in his hands, body trembling with cries.

You were right, Tom already made his choice a month ago, it just happened to be the wrong one, the most disgusting and horrible one. Now he has to suffer with the aftermath, and rightfully so, he deserves it, if not, even more.

Because the choices we make, no matter how little it may be, they will always have consequences, and those consequences you will have to deal with, even if it's bad, even if it hurts.

Tom made a choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

-:-:-:-:-

Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Tell me your thoughts! <3

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[everlarkficexchange]

Naked To the One You Love

by: @ameliaodair​

Prompt #46: They really do toast privately in CF – Katniss wearing an orange dress for Peeta and Peeta making cheese buns for Katniss.  They wanted something their own.  No one knows about it and there’s no baby (as far as they know) but how would this change their relationship? How they make their decisions? Would anyone actually believe them when she gets to District 13? [submitted by anonymous]

Peeta, with the help of Prim and Rye has the perfect day planned for he and Katniss.  This is the day they will finally have their toasting.  Will everything go as perfectly as Peeta planned it?

This story goes hand-in-hand with my current WIP called, “Another Way Out.”  If you want to read more, you can find it on AO3 and FFN.

Word Count: 5768

Rated: M for fluff and smut and lemons.

Warning: Adult content below

Un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine

 Naked To the One you Love

| Peeta |

“What are we doing?” Katniss asks as I lead us toward the meadow.  It’s early still, the sun barely making its presence known along the horizon as it bleeds its hues of purples, oranges, and pinks into the morning sky.

“Having breakfast,” I tell her simply, shivering from the cold.

“In the snow?” She quibbles, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.  I sneak my arm around her shoulder and pull her close.  She allows it, pressing her popsicle nose into my neck.

“Just be quiet and follow me,” I tell her, which grants me a scowl— no surprise there.  When we finally reach our tree, we climb up and I surprise her by opening the door to our tree house.

“Wow, it’s a lot bigger than last time,” she smiles, looking around the tiny room to inspect my handy work.  It was only a little more than a week ago when I found a large plank and, with Rye’s help we got it to the top of this tree.  Using some of my dad’s tools, I nailed the plank to one of the sturdier branches.  Each day since then I have come out here, adding more planks to it, and now it looks like a tiny little house.  Or well, well … more like one … very small room of a rather tiny house.  It is just spacious enough for the two of us to stretch out comfortably, but it’s a place of our own, somewhere to go when we need to get away.  It’s the closest we can get to the woods since the fence is electrified twenty-four-seven now.

We spend the morning in our little makeshift tree home, enjoying the breakfast I packed and watching the miracle of another sun rise.  After surviving the games with the love of your life, you learn to appreciate the little things in life.  Like sunrises and sunsets.  Like sharing meals with your loved ones.   Things you didn’t think were important before suddenly become of the utmost importance.  So, Katniss and I bask in the warmth from the sun and just enjoy being together like this.  With no cameras and no Haymitch.  No Effie or prep teams chasing our tails and scolding us about schedules.  As much as we love and adore all of them, it’s nice to have a break from them.  Finally, it’s just us, which is just the way I like it.

“I think it’s time to get Prim,” Katniss tells me when she sees the sun positioned above the bakery.  It always amazes me how she knows what time it is by the position of the sun.

I frown and jut my lip out, exaggerating my disappointment.  “No, not yet.  Just one more minute,” I whine, leaning in for a kiss.

“Come on Peeta, I don’t want Prim walking home alone.” Katniss contests, squirming out of my arms.  As much as I don’t want to leave right now, I know she’s right.  We leave everything in the tree and climb down, deciding we’ll most likely return once Prim is safely back at home.  Together, we walk to the school and wait for Prim just outside the gates of the school yard.  I’m not sure how much Prim knows much about what’s going on, if anything, but Katniss and I are too afraid to let her walk anywhere in the district alone.  Afraid of what Snow might do. 

Everyone, even Katniss’s mom said her father’s death was just a stroke of bad luck— that he had an aneurysm that no one knew about, that ruptured.  That if they’d had the technology the people in the Capitol have at their fingertips, they could have caught and treated it.  But we know better.  There was no Capitol technology or any fancy device that would have spared his life.  There is no doubt in my mind— or Katniss’s that Snow was the cause of her dad’s untimely death.  Of course, it wasn’t him per say, because he was clearly safe inside the President’s Mansion in the Capitol, but more than likely one of his spies here in 12.  The timing of everything was just too coincidental, not to mention the fact that he offered his condolences before it even happened.

“Oh, I told Rye we’d stop by the bakery on our way home today,” I tell Prim and Katniss, giving Prim a little wink.  It’s a lie, but Katniss doesn’t know that.  When I clued Prim in on my master plan just the other day, she was more than happy to go along with it— knowing that we all need something positive in our lives— something to celebrate.

We stop by the bakery and I breathe a sigh of relief that my mother is nowhere in sight.  She isn’t supposed to be here for another hour or so, but that hasn’t stopped her from making an unscheduled appearance before.  Rye has trouble keeping a straight face as he prepares a bag for us, filled with Katniss’s favorites.

“Hey, I uh … I was about to head out and stop by to see Dad, I can walk Prim home,” Rye suggests, also aware of my plan.

Katniss squirms in place, uncomfortable to even the thought of letting Prim out of her sight but I assure her it’s okay.  Rye will protect Prim and keep her safe.  They have grown rather close over the last few weeks … or, well, ever since Mr. Everdeen got sick while Katniss and I were still on the Victory Tour.

I remember thanking him for being there for my surrogate family and he rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, like you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I was there and didn’t help if I could.”  

‘Right,’ I thought to myself.  ‘It had nothing to do with you actually caring about them, let alone that you are a decent human being,’ but I kept those thoughts to myself.

“Prim is safe with me, I assure you that I will take extra good care of her,” Rye assuages.  Katniss squirms uncomfortably, so Rye adds, “Katniss, I promise.  You have my word.”

“Extra good?” Katniss smirks after a second, her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Maybe on your way there, Prim can teach you some grammar,” she says in that snarky tone of hers.

“Katniss, we’ll go straight home, I swear!” Prim decrees, clasping her hands together and poking her lip out.  Katniss narrows her eyes, which is preceded with a scowl, but then she finally concedes.

“Fine.  Go straight home.  NO detours.”

Prim wraps her arms around Katniss’s waist and squeals, “Thank you, thank you, thank you Katniss!  You are the best sister ever!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Katniss remarks, trying to hide her grin.  Like me, she finds it extremely difficult to deny Prim anything.

After Katniss and I collect our stuff from the treehouse, I get an idea.  “I want to make a snowman,” I tell her with a cheeky smile.

“A snowman?  Seriously?  But it’s cold Peeta,” she whines.

“That’s the point.  You can’t make a snowman when it’s warm.”  So, that’s what we do, we build a snowman until she gets the bright idea to chuck a snowball at my face.  And then— it’s on.  I scoop up a ball of snow and sling it at Katniss, hitting her square in the shoulder.

With her impeccable aim, I should have known that I had no chance in the world of besting her in a snowball fight. 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” she whines when she sees the pile of snowballs I have hidden behind the snowman.  She might have impeccable aim, but I am the youngest of three boys— I had to work twice as hard to keep up with them.

“You started it,” I tell her and chuck another ball of snow at her.  For the next hour or so, we have fun, smiling and laughing while getting snow blasted in our faces.  Katniss tackles me from the side and slams me down on my back.  She straddles my hips, pinning my arms to the ground.

“I win, you lose,” she says triumphantly, planting a victory kiss to my lips.

“That may be true, but I think it’s me who is the real winner here.”

Her eyes knit together in confusion, “And just how exactly do you figure that?”

“Well, you’ve got me pinned to the ground, I’m trapped underneath you.  I’ll gladly lose to you if this is my punishment,” I tell her with a crooked grin.

“Come on, let’s go home.  I’m cold,” she says, climbing off my hips and helping me up.  Under normal circumstances I do not need help getting around with my prosthesis.  However, the snow adds many challenges to my already uneven gait.

No longer able to feel either our fingers, toes, or our faces, we make our way back to my house to warm up.  Rye and my dad are hanging out two doors down, at the Everdeen’s, so I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on us.  Once I get the fire started, we curl up on a blanket I spread out on the floor, soaking up the heat from the flames.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Katniss tells me once the feeling in her fingers returns and then she makes her way upstairs.  Her absence gives me the perfect opportunity to get everything in order.  The moment she is out of sight, I begin creating a mental checklist of everything I need to do.  Once I hear the water splashing against the tile floor, I zip into the kitchen and get to work.  I begin by filling a tray with the cheese buns from the bakery— Katniss’ favorite, and pop them into the oven to warm them up.  And then I take out the dough of the white bread I prepared a few days ago, made for this exact occasion.  I open the drawer that contains the papers and pull them out.  “Certificate of Marriage,” I whisper the words aloud.

“Please be okay with this Katniss,” I anxiously tell myself. “Stop it Peeta.  She loves you, you love her; that’s the only thing that matters.” I remind myself, trying to talk myself up so I don’t chicken out. 

Once all the bread is ready to go, I place them on a table next to the couch and wait for Katniss to come back down.

I am not waiting long when she comes gliding down the stairs in an immaculate floor-length orange summer dress.  The straps holding the dress up on her shoulders are skinny, and for some reason they remind me of spaghetti noodles.  It is snug at the top and gets looser the more the light orange fades into a deeper orange.  My eyes nearly bug out of my head at the sight of her.  She is beautiful, she is exquisite and stunning and just … WOW.  It must be one of the dresses Cinna sent back with her, because I’ve never seen this one before.  And although this one is clearly a dress meant for days with bright sun and scorching heat— it’s not like we’ll be going outside.

It is so unlike her when she twirls around once, a huge smile on her face.  “Do you like it?”

For a moment, I’m speechless, “I … I love it, it’s beautiful; you’re beautiful.”

She blushes, joining me on the floor and I prop some pillows up for us to lean against.

“Are you hungry?” I nervously ask her.  Dammit, why am I so nervous?

“What do you think?” She huffs, her eyes narrowing with her trademark scowl, which forces a chuckle to escape from my throat.  It’s a stupid question to ask anyone who is a resident of 12.  Everyone is hungry, even those of us who are more fortunate than the others.  I hand her the platter of cheese buns, but she’s eyeing the other tray.  “What’s that?” She asks, pointing behind my back.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I tell her and shift my body, hoping to block her view.

“Oh my God, Peeta; is that—” The papers are all but forgotten as her eyes go saucer eyed when she catches sight of the bread behind me.  She crawls over me and picks the bread up, delicately turning it over and over in her hands.  “Is this—”

I bashfully look away and nod my head, “It is,” I admit.  Her head snaps to the right— and then to the left as she surveys the room.  And then it all hits her at once as she realizes what this is.  For a moment, I am afraid she’s going to go running for the hills, but instead, she reaches for the bread knife and begins sawing at the loaf.  She frees the piece of bread and impales it on a poker before placing it over the fire.  While she rotates the poker to evenly toast the bread, she looks over to me, her silver eyes glistening with the flames and smiles.

“Do I ever tell you how much I love you?  H-how important you are to me?” She asks as her eyes meet mine.  And maybe it’s just the heat from the flames, but her cheeks suddenly flush into crimson.

All my anxiety dissipates into her gray orbs as I extend my hand out, curling a strand of her hair around my finger.  “It is implied every single day, in everything you do,” I tell her softly.

She pulls the poker back and places it down next to the hearth, but not before removing the slightly toasted bread from its prongs.  She juggles the bread from one hand to the other— again and again as she waits for it to cool.

My eyes are cemented on her while my anxiety rises to a new level as I await her next actions.

“Peeta … you are … the most amazingly incredible person I know— have ever known.  And … I never thought I wanted this, but you— you changed everything for me.  You changed the way I see the world, and I … I can’t imagine a life without you.  And … even if I could, I don’t want to.”

Woah, wait a minute, what is she doing?  Those are supposed to be my words.

‘Katniss, what are you doing?’ I ask her in our silent form of communication.

‘I think you know,’ she smiles mischievously at me.

“Uh-uhn, no, that’s my job, I had this all planned out.”

“Oh, so that’s what today was all about?” She exclaims with a bright smile on her face.  I can’t help but return the smile as I lean over and press my lips against hers.  Using my weight, I push her down onto her back and kiss her deeply— thoroughly running my tongue along her lips, sucking … pulling her bottom lip into my mouth until she shivers.

“I love you Katniss Everdeen,” I mumble through our connected lips.  “I love everything about you; even the things I hate about you, I love.” I crawl up next to her, our bodies continuing to absorb the heat from the flames as I stare longingly into her beautiful grey eyes.

“You ruined my plans, I’m not sure if I can forgive you for that,” I quip, smiling and gazing into her perfect eyes.

“What if I …” She intentionally hesitates, lifting the seam of my shirt up and tracing her fingers lightly across my stomach, “do this?” She finishes, sending goosebumps prickling against my skin and I squirm from side to side with her touch.

“Nothing’s ruined,” she promises.  “All I said, was I wanted for it to be ours; that I didn’t want the day I became yours, and you mine to be in front of a Capitol audience.  As long as it’s just us, I don’t care about the rest.”

And she says she’s not good with words.

I take her hands into mine, our heads sharing the same pillow as we stare into each other’s eyes, “Katniss, I was mesmerized by you since I was a five-year old, snaggle-toothed little boy.  I can’t even remember a time I didn’t love you; and for so long, I never thought you would give me the time of day.  I thought … for so long I thought that just being your friend would be enough, but after having your love— after having your heart … I can’t imagine a life without you.  I know you only said yes because of … well, because of everything, but I swear to you, I will be the best husband you could ever hope to have.  I—”

“Peeta, I—” She interjects, but I stop her.

“Please Katniss, please let me finish,” she nods, not pushing it any further.  I glance down to the bread and then back at her, “I offer this toasted bread to you with the promise of being your best friend.  I will listen when you need someone to talk to; when you just need to vent, my ears will be open, or if you just need a sounding board, I will be that too.  You will never have to be alone again because I will be by your side.“

‘Always,‘ I add in our silent way.

“Even when you don’t think you want me there, I will be.  I will hold your hand when you’re scared, and I will be right here, right next to you, scared with you.  I will tell you that everything will be okay— because even if it’s not, we will have each other.  I will always, always be there to catch you before you fall.  And … and I’ll give you a push if that’s what you need, too.  Because I love you.”

Her eyes are pooled with tears and her chin quivers as she reaches for our toasted slice of bread and holds it up between us. It is the only thing separating our lips.  And then I part my lips and allow her to feed me the bread, our bread.  Our little slice of heaven that signifies our love.  I sink my teeth into the perfectly toasted bread, as does she.  Our teeth sink into our promise to the other and then we seal it with a kiss.

“I love you Peeta Mellark, my husband.”

“And I, you; Katniss Everdeen; my wife.”

“I think that would be Katniss Mellark now; get it right,” she tries to scowl at me but fails, erupting in a giggle.

“I like the sound of that, Mrs. Katniss Mellark— Oh, that reminds me!” I exclaim jubilantly, nearly bursting at the seams as I jump up to collect the papers the mayor had given me earlier this week.

“What’s that?” Katniss asks me.

“It’s um … they’re the papers.  To um, make it official.”

“Seriously?  When— How?” I breathe out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t object.  That she seems genuinely excited.

“The mayor.  But … we can’t tell anyone; she’ll be in a load of trouble if anyone finds out.”

“My husband … conspiring with the mayor,” Katniss beams, glowing with pride.  I am incapable of concealing the cheesy, shit-eating grin when she calls me her husband.

As I watch her grip the pen in her hand and sign her name on all the dotted lines, I pinch myself to see if I am dreaming.  I can’t believe it; I am actually, really, truly and officially married to Katniss Everdeen— Mellark.

“Wait!  I have something for you,” Katniss says and rushes up the stairs.  I hear her run into my room and then a drawer slams before she is sprinting back down the stairs.

“You already gave me a ring, and I um … I want you to have this Peeta,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she reaches for my hand.  Refusing to meet my eyes, she slips something onto my finger.

I pull my hand up to look at what she’s placed on my finger to see a ring adorned to the pointer finger of my right hand.  Then she takes her ring off the chain of her necklace— (the one I gave her in District 4 the night of my true proposal to her— the one that once belonged to her mother, given to me by her father) and does the same.  

It’s a tradition in 12 that goes along with the toasting.  Everyone knows that your wedding ring is typically worn on the fourth finger of your left hand, but in 12, it starts out on the pointer finger of your right hand.  There was a tradition from before the dark days that said you start off like this because there is a vein … or maybe it’s an artery that runs from your finger to your heart.  And since marriage is the ultimate promise, by doing this you are connecting your hearts together.  Once the ceremony is over, then you switch it to the fourth finger of your left hand.

Katniss leans over to kiss me and we switch the ring to our proper fingers while our lips are still conjoined.  For now.  I will eventually have to find a clever place to keep mine until … until well, I don’t know.  But the Capitol cannot know we are already married.

After all the traditions are complete, I take our marriage papers to the office room upstairs and tuck them away in a safe place.  Then, with a little extra pep in my step, I find my way back to the main room and scoop Katniss into my arms.

“Peeta!  What are you doing?” She squeals like a giddy schoolgirl, encircling her arms around my neck.  Carefully, I make my way up the stairs and into my room— our room.  Who am I kidding?  It’s always been our room— no piece of paper or ceremony was needed to decide that for us.

“I am carrying my wife over the threshold.  The toasting isn’t complete until that’s been done,” I remind her with a kiss.

“Okay,” she says, nuzzling her head against my chest.  No thanks to my artificial leg, we make it up the steps successfully.  I press my lips against hers as my foot passes the threshold.  Now, all the standard traditions of 12 are complete, except for the final one.  The one that really seals the deal.  Consummation.

Just thinking the word in my head causes me to stumble.  My brain seems to forget how to gracefully put one foot in front of the other and I fall face first onto my bed, my body nearly crushing my beautiful wife.

She giggles; a foreign sound, but it is one that I cherish.  “I love you,” I say, pressing my forehead against hers.

“Smooth,” she says, and I can feel her lips forming into a smile against my mouth.

“So, now, we’re supposed to um …” There is a nervous energy between us; she’s scared, as am I.  Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life, and that’s saying something— having survived an arena and all.

“Katniss, you know … we don’t have to do this, we can just—”

“What? You don’t want to?” She interjects defensively.

“No, no— I mean, yes, I do.  I was just saying … if you don’t want to, it’s okay.  We don’t have to, we can wait,” I stumble over my words trying to reassure her.

“I want to Peeta,“ she says certainly, never taking her eyes off mine.  "I have wanted to for a while now, and I think we’ve waited long enough.  Will you … will you help me unzip my dress?” Her eyes flit to the floor as she smiles nervously, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.  While Katniss and I have done many things, getting caught up in heated kisses, touching in places I would rather not mention, we have never gone this far.  We have never gone all the way.  She turns around and pulls her hair to the side, granting me access to her zipper.  I scrupulously glide the zipper down until it refuses to budge another inch and delicately slide the sleeves down her arms.  A frown of disappointment encases my lips when she begins to braid her hair.

I press my lips to her bare neck and kiss my way to her shoulder, which causes a moan to expel from her lips.  “Leave it down, please.”

“Mmm hmmm,” she moans.

“My God, you are so beautiful,” I tell her, my lips trailing down to the crest of her shoulder.  Finally, I sling her dress into the chair next to my bed and she nervously flips onto her back, incredulously facing me. 

‘Oh my God, Katniss is naked, bare to me and in my bed,’ I think to myself as I stare her up and down.

Feeling self-conscious … probably due to my ogling her, she reaches over and pulls the sheet to cover her near-naked body.

“No, what are you doing?” I ask her, tugging the fabric back.

“I just … feel so … naked without my clothes,” she says, flushing with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

“Well then … be naked with me,” she says, tugging on the hem of my shirt, eager for me to remove it.  I slide my shirt off and it joins her dress in the chair.  I am hesitant to remove my pants, still self-conscious about my leg.

“Pants too,” Katniss whispers in a raspy— so, so sexy voice.

“I … I—”

“Peeta, I love all of you, even the Capitol-made parts,” she takes charge and flips me over, undoes the button of my pants, and I am too paralyzed to refuse; not that I would want to.  She removes my pants, then sits up and straddles my hips.  With nothing but our underclothes on, we are completely bare to each other, and I understand what she meant about feeling naked without her clothes.  There is nothing to conceal our insecurities, both physical and emotional.  But that’s the point, right?  To be completely open, bare— naked to the one you love.  To have nothing— no secrets between you.  However, underneath all my anxiety, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt anything quite this amazing before.  We slip under the covers and I click the lamp on that sits on my nightstand.  It emanates a soft glow, perfectly lighting the room, while producing a shadow over the insecurities.

“Can I take your leg off?” Katniss asks me.  She must be in my head again— I was just too embarrassed to take the initiative— afraid she would find my mutilated leg … repulsive.

“Okay,” I say.  For the first time I realize she’s had a lot of practice helping me put it on and take it off as she slips it off with ease.

“I don’t want any part of the Capitol here for this,” she says, placing kisses against the scar on my leg.  I pull her up to me and flip her back onto her back.

We are a tangled mess of arms and legs, our tongues dancing together in a frenzy, yet in perfect synchronicity.  As if they’d been practicing for years and years until they reached utter perfection.  I trail kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone and across her shoulders.  I want to kiss every inch of her body; I don’t want to miss a single bit of her skin.  I reach down and cup her perfect breasts in my hands and she moans out in pleasure, which causes my cock to pulse until it is fully erect.

“Touch me Peeta,” surrendering to her every command, I stroke her arms, and then add light touches to her perfectly flattened stomach.  I caress my hands up and down her legs, trying to muster up the courage to touch her there.  Finally, I do, and she’s so hot and wet for me.  I slide one finger inside her center and keep it in there while I use my thumb to rub circles on that little bundle of nerves that I know has the power to make her come undone.

Her body tenses up and I know I’ve hit the right spot when she pants out my name.  “I could be satisfied … happy, just doing that to you … every second of every minute, of every single day,” I tell her once the intensity of her climax has subsided.

“Then how would you make me cheese buns?” She says with a heavy breath.  Smiling, I inch up to her face and kiss her.  Soft and light at first, and then harder, deeper— as if I am starving and her lips are the only way to satiate my hunger. 

“I need you Peeta; I— I need you closer,” she breathes into me and I instantly know what she means. She wants me to be inside her.  We have both wanted this for such a long time, I almost can’t believe it’s actually happening.  I kiss her softly as I fumble my way on top of her.  Using one elbow to prop myself up, my other hands grips onto my cock as I tease her entrance with my hardened member.  Even without being inside her, I can feel how wet she is.  Which only causes my already rock-hard cock to pulse even harder.  She spreads her legs open for me and I fumble nervously, guiding my cock into her entrance and sliding inside her— slowly at first.

“Is this okay?” I ask her, recalling an embarrassing conversation with Rye as he gave me the intricate details that a girl’s first time can be painful, and that it’s important that they are “ready” prior to penetration.

“More Peeta, I need all of you,” she demands, locking her legs around my hips and digging her heels into the back of my calves.  Slowly, I push myself deeper into her, impaling her, until finally, I am fully submerged into her heat.

“Holy FUCK!” I gasp, crying out when my cock is surrounded by her walls.  “Is- is this okay?” I ask her again, not wanting to do anything that might hurt her.  It is taking every bit of willpower that I possess to keep my body still— to prevent my hips from ramming deep— and hard, into her.

“Oh God, Peeta, you feel so good.  Please … please, Peeta—” she begs me, and I’ve never been very good at denying her anything as I submit to her will.  Slowly, I partially retract myself from her center and then slowly, slowly push myself back inside, our pelvises grinding against each other.  Her nails dig into my back, finding their way to my ass and then she squeezes—

“Holy FUCK, how did you just do that?” I ask when her walls tighten around my cock.

“What … this?” She grins, repeating the action, “You like that?” She says in a teasing, seductive voice.

“Katniss— stop … or I’m going to … or I won’t last, and I want … this has to be perfect,” I beg her and then she reaches up, encircling her arms around my neck and pressing her mouth to mine.

“It’s already perfect because I’m with you,” she tells me in-between heated kisses.  And once again, she stupefies me with her words.

“Oh God, I love you too, my perfect, beautiful, amazingly gifted wife,” I tell her, while gliding in … gliding out of her sex.

“Katniss … I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last if you keep doing that … where do you want me to—”

“Right where you are,” she tells me, knowing what I am trying to say.

“But,” I question her with a raise of my brow.

“I took that pill Effie gave you— I mean, me,” she explains, running her tongue along my ear.

I shiver from the contact and lose all control as I slam into her— again and again before grinding into her center once more.  We both grind; hard and slow, and deep— achieving the perfect rhythm until I feel that familiar stirring deep in my stomach— and then we’re both moaning, and yelling, and whispering— shouting— gasping the other’s name and I’m spilling into her, filling her with my seed; both of us believing that Effie’s miracle pill from the Capitol will prevent any watering of said seed.

0 – 0 – 0

Curious about their “unspoken language”?  Or Katniss’s father’s untimely death?  Or who the mayor of 12 is since it clearly is not Mayor Undersee?  Come check out my THG re-writes: Changing the Game (Complete) and Another Way Out (In progress) (The final book/story is TBA).  Told in multiple POV’s.  AND, find out what happens once Katniss reaches District 13.  Does anyone know they actually and officially got married in 12?  Does Katniss get pregnant?  Does Effie’s miracle pill work for them?

#ameliaodair #prompt 46 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[englass]

How about #7 for the dark prompts?

Sure thing, Anon! Thank you for sending it in!

Have to say, this is such a dramatic prompt that I was going to have some fun with it and not take it too seriously, but... well, that didn't exactly happen...

7. “If they so much as think about you, I will personally see to it that the last thing they ever think, see and know about again is my hand through their chest.”

- - -

Sometimes you question what you were doing with your life. When you were younger you had so many ideas, so many dreams about what you would grow up to be and do; both occupation and personal development wise. Maybe you’d be a librarian, a personal assistant perhaps. Perhaps you’d no longer be so reticent, be more honest and forthright with what you wanted maybe. You can’t say exactly what you thought you’d grow up to do and be like, but what you can say is that romance had been a far, far off idea in the vague outline of your future. Something you only thought about in passing, as a bittersweet indulgence to your secretly romantic heart.

Love seemed like such an inexplicable thing, inconceivable despite the evidence displayed in those around you. For whatever reason you just couldn't see yourself with someone, couldn’t comprehend such an equally desirable and yet dangerous emotion being something that you would ever experience, let alone actually come to possess. The idea of it was all so frightening; so complex and intricate in the way that the unknown typically appears to be.

Maybe, in some strange backwards way, that was why John was such a comfort to you: so complex, intricate and unknown to you as he was.

At first it had been nothing more than an unexpected friendship. It had been hard to believe that such a successful and attractive man would ever be interested in getting to know little, introverted you, even in a purely friendly manner. It had set your foolishly hopeful heart into a childish frenzy at the time, one you’d constantly had to settle and aggressively force down in fear of hurting your sensitive self. The heart is such a fragile thing after all, and you are intimately self-aware of the fragility of your own.

It had been difficult, painful in the way that a yearning heart always is, but you had gotten by; contented yourself with a friendship that sometimes appeared to hint too close at something more, but that you knew never would be. Or, at least, you never thought it would be. John's rather sudden confession during (what you had thought to be) a casual dinner had completely thrown you off guard, completely spun your world on its axis in a way that you couldn’t tell if it was the best or worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ultimately you settled on the former; it was definitely the best thing to have happened to you, despite your many fears and reservations over it all. Fortune had certainly shown favour in gifting him to you and (hopefully) you to him. John had been nothing but supportive and patient during this new experience with him, and it never failed to make your cheeks flush with a bashful heat every time he whispered private assurances and sweetened comforts against your skin.

Yes, life has definitely turned out differently than what your younger self would have ever thought possible.

Sometimes, however, you find yourself questioning what you were doing in this sort of life.

At his core John is a sweetheart, as much of a romantic as you are in his own flavorful way. He’d never once taken a tone with you, never once made you feel lesser than despite your own parasitic insecurities insisting otherwise. John was beautifully unique, and you had no doubt in your mind that there would never be another man like him.

“If they so much as think about you, I will personally see to it that the last thing they ever think, see and know about again is my hand through their chest... ”

And that included his almost disturbing degree of overprotectiveness over you.

Hesitantly you shake your head, placing a cautious hand on John’s arm as he glares menacingly at the… what are they, a guard? You’re really not sure how to describe the people that follow John and his siblings. It’s all very out of your depth, and for your own peace of mind you think it may be best to keep it that way. The less you know the better.

“John, I really don’t think they meant anything by it,” you offer softly, trying to meet his eyes. “They only came in to talk to you. Besides, it sounded urgent. You know they wouldn’t come in like that if it wasn’t.”

John had made it clear a few times already what would happen if anyone came into the ranch without express permission. He used to be a lot more subtle about issuing his threats at the start of your relationship, but not so much any more. In some ways it’s nice that he feels comfortable enough with you to not hide any part of himself, regardless of how dark those parts may be. In other ways you wonder what it is that you are doing with your life -- what have you gotten yourself involved in…

A heavy and drawn out sigh escapes from John, expression softening as he finally turns to look at you; a small and almost guilty smile dispelling his previously murderous scowl. Raising a hand he gently brushes your cheek with the back of his fingers, caressing the quickly redden skin with a fondness that you can feel as much as you can see in the expansive azure of his eyes.

“I suppose you have a point,” he drawls with a teasing lilt, his smile turning charming as his hand smoothes out to cradle your jaw. “I just can’t stand the idea of any of them seeing you; they’re not worthy of such a vision.”

Right… you think anxiously, feebly reminding yourself, overprotective.

“I know,” not completely, but you do know it eases him to hear you say it all the same. “You don’t have to be so harsh with them though. I’m sure they mean no harm.”

John frowns at that, shaking his head. “You don’t know them like I do, sweetling.”

“I don’t,” you agree, “but they listen to you, right? Surely that counts for something?”

The way he watches you makes you squirm, makes you momentarily doubt your safety and the intentions of the faceless men and women around you, but you try not to physically react to him. Only daring to meet his intent gaze with a meek one of your own. Thankfully it doesn’t take long for him to relent in his silent scrutinising of you, offering a gentle smile and a long press of his lips to your forehead.

“I’ll consider what you’ve said, darling.”

That’s about as much as you can ask of him, you guess. It’s a bit disappointing, with how dismissive his words sound, but you know how John can be. Especially when it comes to you; and how pos-- protective he is of you. You try not to let it bother you too much though. Your life is already so much more different than you ever imagined it to be, and you’re not too sure how you’d take it if you started looking too deeply into things; if you started questioning things too much. You don’t know what’s becoming of your life -- oh god help you, but what you do know…

Is that it is hued in red.

#the denial is strong with this one #i actually feel bad for reader #what have i done? #ngl i kinda got a touch personal with this #my bad #hopefully it's okay all the same though #john seed #my gorgeous murder husband #john seed x reader #fc5 #far cry 5 #fc5 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #my writing prompts #my prompts #soft dark #soft dark fic #soft dark prompts #soft dark writing prompts #angst #request #anonymous #thank you for sending this in again anon!

[plumso]

in your eyes

pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader 

summary: Cedric, a hardworking student who wants to make everyone around him proud, feels vulnerable when around you, and so he tries to avoid you at all cost.

warnings: n/a

A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfiction (on this site hehe), and I’m glad that it’s about my favorite boy Ced :) Please enjoy and let me what you think!

I do not give permission for my work to be reposted!

music suggestion: the luckiest by Ben Folds

I do not own the image

Sprawled in the middle of the Quidditch field with her comfy blanket laid underneath her, Y/N stared into the depths of the starry night. Though it was a dark, moonless, and cloudless night, it made it all the more easier to see the stars and the meteor shower. With each striking, short-lived comet painted on the sky, she giggled and mentally counted every shooting star she was lucky to witness.

No one wanted to join her tonight; it was far too cold and risky to sneak out in the middle of the night to see a bunch of stars. However, she wasn’t alone. Little did she know that she had a spectator.

Cedric Diggory. One of the most beloved students of Hogwarts. He had Quidditch practice earlier that day and accidentally left some of his belongings on the side of the field. And so, using his prefect advantages, he decided to venture into the black, cold night to retrieve his things. Though, he quickly realized he wasn’t the only one there once he saw a single light emitted by a wand. 

He begrudgingly started to approach the strange light. Though he appreciated the honor of becoming a prefect, he quickly grew tired of the rigidness. Scolding a fellow student was emotionally draining, and he genuinely hated seeing the pained look on their faces. 

Before he reached the middle of the field, he stopped his tracks. The light from the wand glowed its beholder’s face, revealing the beautiful smile that Cedric dreaded. Y/N. 

Cedric remembered the day he first met her. It all started from the anxiously exciting train ride to Hogwarts in their first year, and the pair was coincidentally sitting next to each other. He remembered the massive number of kids entering Hogwarts that year and how her shoulders were leaning against his. Trying to avoid how conscious he was feeling around her, he conversed with the other students and laughed at all the myths the older students were trying to make the younger ones believe. Y/N, however, just sat there, observing the other students and Cedric. To him, it felt like her eyes were burning holes into him each time she gazed at him, but he pretended like he didn’t notice.

The whole train gradually quieted down as it neared Hogwarts. Many fell asleep, quickly tiring themselves out from all the excitement. However, Cedric and Y/N were still awake. Not a word daring to leave their lips, they simply stared outside the window and idly admired the passing scenery before them.

The silence was surprisingly comforting. This was strange to Cedric considering he always felt obligated to talk to others. But he somehow didn’t feel the need with Y/N, even though they haven’t properly introduced themselves yet.

Then, out of nowhere, Y/N turned her head to face Cedric, her eyes immediately on his. Cedric, shocked and conscious about how close they were, averted his eyes. He kept darting it everywhere except on her, but once he glanced over her eyes, he was stuck. As if there was a magnetic force beneath her kind orbs, he couldn’t pull away, even though his mind kept telling him to snap out of it.

After a few seconds (which felt like eons to Cedric), Y/N struck her hand forward and smiled. “Hi. I’m Y/N,” she said sweetly.

Breaking their eye contact to then stare at her hands, he gently held onto it and shook it. “Hi, I’m Cedric.”

Ever since that day, Cedric steered clear from her. He made sure that their friend groups didn’t coincide and that he sat far away from her in classes that they shared. It was also relatively easy to keep his mind off her, considering how busy he was with numerous social and academic events. However, in the rare moments in which he loosens his self-control, he lets his eyes wander to her. And, for some reason, she always seems to catch his stare.

Vulnerability has never been a comfortable feeling for Cedric. He always pushed himself for himself, his peers, and his father. “Nothing but the best for my son,” his father Amos would frequently say. Cedric would laugh when his father shows nothing but love and pride for his son, but it only added to his fear of disappointing him. And though slow nights would make Cedric ponder and contemplate on his obsessiveness to “be the best,” his mind would go back to his smiling father. And so, whenever he felt “weak,” he would have to remind himself that failure is not an option. 

But his fears become nonexistent once he’s locked in her eyes. He felt bare under her gaze as if she saw his anxieties, his fears, his pride, his ego, his guilt – his soul. In her stare, he felt whole and complete, his fear melting away. And so, before he completely lost himself in her eyes, he breaks away from it.

Though they don’t hang around each other much, Cedric knew much about her. She was lighthearted, open, accepting, and spontaneous; she was a creative being that seemed to find beauty within everything. Cedric saw this by how Y/N always makes her friends laugh each morning, or by how she tries to sneakily sleep during potions class by laying her head on her propped arm and covering her eyes with her hand. And even till now, with her lazy figure sprawled comfortably on rough grass as dementors roam the school grounds, she longingly stares into the sky as if she wants to join be part of it. 

Cedric stood only a couple of feet away from her, unsure of what to do. He must have looked like a complete creep, staring at an unknowing girl in the dark. But then, a gasp escaped from Y/N’s lips as she points at the sky. Cedric looks up and sees a small yet bright streak on the dark sky that lasted for only a millisecond. It was a shooting star. His first shooting star. Though he lived in a house along a great field with clear skies, he never saw a shooting star before. Perhaps his head was too focused on what was in front of him that he never bothered to look up.

A small chuckle to leave his lips. All the stress from the Triwizard competition, prefect duties, Quidditch captain responsibilities, and much more seemed nonexistent. He didn’t feel the need to fret or worry about it, his focus solely on the sky so he can see another beautiful shooting star. 

However, his chuckle seemed to give his presence away.

“Cedric? Is that you?”

The light from Y/N’s wand was now on his face, thus causing him to squint. “Uh, yeah. It’s me.” Cedric said as he covers his eyes with his hands. “Sorry to spook you. I just left some stuff from Quidditch practice.”

“Oh,” Y/N said before putting her wand to the side.

Though it took quite some time for Cedric’s eyes to be adjusted to the dark again, his eyes wandered immediately onto hers. Unsurprisingly, hers was already on his. Their stare was long, as usual, but something was different about it: Cedric. Perhaps it was the shooting star or her calming presence, but he didn’t feel like putting up his usual guard. However, rather than Cedric pulling away from the gaze, it was Y/N this time. This shocked him.

“So,” Y/N softly said, “I suppose I’m in trouble now.” 

While still a bit confused, he chuckled at her comment. “Seeing as this is your first offense, I’ll let you go. For now.”

She laughed, but it felt a bit heavy. A bit forced. “Well, I’ll start packing everything up now.”

“Oh, you don’t have to! You seem like you were having fun…” Cedric slowly stated, wondering if his comment revealed how he creepily stared at her not too long ago. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”

Y/N stared at him for a while, a puzzled look appeared on her face. She then nodded before looking up to the night sky. She silently stared at the stars for quite some time as Cedric studied her face. He greatly desired to know what she was thinking. It seemed like she was contemplating hard about something. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

This caught Cedric off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always avoiding me. I thought you didn’t like me.”

Cedric felt guilt-ridden. He didn’t expect her to notice, yet he didn’t expect his actions to be obvious also. “I... I didn’t mean to avoid you. It’s just all so compl-“

“Have I done something to offend you?” Y/N shakily asked, the fear and hurt plain on her face. This panged Cedric’s heart.

“No!” Cedric exclaimed. “Not at all! That’s not why at all!”

“Then what? Why are you avoiding me?”

Cedric’s mouth hung open, hoping that words would automatically form for him, but no luck. His feet were fidgeting against each other as his eyes darted across the field, hoping that something will somehow help him answer the question. But then, his eyes fell upon her face. 

Cedric thought she looked breathtaking. Her hair ruffled, most likely due to her excitedly moving around against her blanket each time she saw a shooting star; her nose slightly red from the cold breeze; her large scarf wrapped too loosely around her neck; her eyes shined from the tears that were brimming. He felt like he was melting again, but this time, he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t even want to either.

Cedric stopped fidgeting and warmly smiled. “Can I sit next to you?”

Taken aback, Y/N sat in shock for a few seconds before nodding and scooting over. Cedric then sits next to her, his shoulder slightly touching hers. Realizing this, he lightheartedly chuckles. Enjoying the sound of his laugh, Y/N grins and gives him a puzzled look, which Cedric answers with another chuckle. Y/N stares at him like he’s a mad man before joining him in laughter, the tense atmosphere dissipating as fast as it came. 

The laughter then dies down a bit and is replaced with a comforting silence and smiles left on their face. Cedric then looks at Y/N and nudges her shoulder, thus causing her to look back at him. “Hey. I’m sorry. It’s not you, I can greatly assure you that. It’s just that… It’s really hard for me to talk about it, but…” Cedric started to feel anxious. After all, talking about his worries aloud was foreign and new to him. “When I’m with you, it feels different. Not that it’s bad! It’s just… I-It’s jus-“

Y/N places her hand on his and gently squeezes it before giving him a warm smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it all now.” She says as she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb. “I get it.” 

Cedric stares at her for a while, his heart fluttering and his stomach churning. New feelings that were deep within him seemed to be sprouting now that he allowed himself to pour some light on it.

He smiles back at her as he thoroughly enjoys the feeling of her hands on his. “Thanks.” 

Thus, they then retreat to their comforting silence as they stare back at the night sky. They excitedly pointed out each shooting star they saw as they stole glances of each other here and there. Dreading the morning sun, they continued to sit in the freezing dark with their hands still touching and their shoulders still leaning against each other.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #hp #cedric #cedric diggory x reader #hp fanfic #cedric oneshot #robert pattinson

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hi! Love your takes on 19 days especially tianshan!! They are very insightful and a fun read! Idk if you already wrote about this, but I was wondering what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li. I wonder how their dynamic would be in the present. Would they be more like zhanyi?

Hello, dear anon!

Waah, thank you for such praises! I’m glad you have enjoyed reading my mullings!

As a heads-up, this turned much longer than I anticipated, so better find a comfortable seat.

“what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li”

I haven’t actually thought about this before, so thank you for this interesting avenue that had never even crossed my mind. The more I thought about this, the more question popped up. I feel like this would be a pretty significant change, especially for MGS’s character. To try and keep this scenario somewhat in control, I scrolled through the comic with your question in mind and let my nose sniff out where the “new” story would take me. So, this might not be exactly a “realistic” take on it but more like where the story and characters would go in my head if things had been different.

The question of timeline

First, I feel like we need to figure out the correct timeline for all this, so it’s easier to gauge HT and MGS’s characters more accurately. According to my calculations, SL saved MGS sometime during their first year of middle school (ch. 282, 319):

In the current canon storyline, they are in their last year (3rd year) of middle school, so two years off that would put the piercing incident somewhere on their first year. (Look at my mad math skills.) I’m assuming the first school year had already begun since SL had transferred and already gained some reputation at school. Other than rumors, he hadn't crossed MGS’s path.

So, let’s figure out 1st year MGS and HT. With MGS, we have seen glimpses of what kind of character he was (ch. 319, 283):

He had many of the characteristics that are familiar to us in the current timeline, too. He was caring and compassionate. His first instinct was to help, and he dint want to see people hurt. I believe he still has those qualities these days, but he’s learned to hide and suppress those instincts the hard way. I feel like compared to the current MGS, the 1st-year MGS was more pure, innocent, and trusting in many ways. He seemed to believe in a world where doing good to others surely was the way to go.

1st-year HT, on the other hand, is pretty much a mystery to us. Apart from some flashbacks from his childhood prior to middle school, we haven't seen more of his past. Even his first introduction in the comic was a bit awkward the way he just suddenly popped up and it wasn’t really clear what his relationship with JY and ZZX was exactly. 

What was the mindset of 1st-year HT? Had he already made up his mind that he wouldn't become like his brother and father? Was he already living alone or still with his family? Was Mr. He already abroad or still in China?

I think HT’s living situation is probably what would give us the most hints about whatever mindset he might have. But the only thing we really have to go on is when MGS came to visit him for the first time (ch. 144):

Again, this doesn't give us much. It’s impossible to say for sure if HT was already living by himself as a 1st-year student, but somehow I doubt that. Despite everything, 12-13 is still mighty young to be living by himself. And I have a feeling based on the way HC and Mr. He seem to put importance on family sticking together, they probably didn't let HT go live alone without a long fight and debate. So, I think it’s very likely HT was still living at home as a 1st-year. Most probably at his brother’s place that seems like their primary home before Mr. He went abroad?

Based on that, I think HT might have not made up his mind on becoming a savior/hero of sorts yet. At least not in so many words. Home was probably an unpleasant and stressful place for him, and he would rather spend time elsewhere. When at home, he probably spent a lot of time in his room or roaming the nature surrounding them. Home was somewhere where he had to keep his guard up and be constantly prepared for whatever. He was exposed to and (in)directly involved in things that he disapproved of and most probably scared him. At school, he excelled in all the subjects. In some ways, studying was an out for him even though getting good grades was also expected of him. He was always surrounded by a lot of people at school and was very popular, but no one really knew him outside of school. He didn’t open up about himself.

So, that’s how I see the characters set up for the new scenario.

Mo Guan Shan in distress

Now, finally to the beginning of it all. To help us all get in the right mood, I hope you will excuse my very serious 3AM edits (ch. 319):

A crazy homeless man was attacking an innocent, pure MGS. His young life was flashing before his eyes. The man on top of him is too heavy. The grip around his throat too strong. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and black spots are dancing at the edge of his vision.

Just as MGS is about to pass out, something flashes at the corner of his eyes but it’s hard to tell in the dimness of the alleyway. There is a loud, heavy thud, and the grip around MGS’s throat slacks. The man is being flung off him and slumps on the wet pavement. MGS scrambles to his knees, coughing and gasping for breath. The cool rainy air tastes sweet rushing down his burning throat.

A bit out of it, he glances up and sees a dark-haired boy - about his age - who’s holding a heavy liquor bottle. The sharp edges of the bottle’s bottom are smeared with crimson. The sight of blood dripping to the ground makes MGS’s stomach turn a little. He makes the mistake of looking at the limp homeless man lying in a puddle and almost throws up at the spreading blotch of dark red on the back of the man’s head. He starts to tremble when he realizes how close to being killed he had just come.

I would picture that HT is shaken by what he had done, too. Picking up the bottle had been like an instinct to him. He had swung it as hard as he could, not really thinking the consequences. Now, though, a small panic monster in his head whispers that he had probably killed someone.

But the panic monster doesn't get very far in its fear-mongering until HT’s training kicks in. Still squeezing the neck of the heavy bottle, he creeps to the crazy man, ready to bounce if he decides to go for a second round. Even in the heavy rain, he can smell the thick odor of homelessness and alcoholism. He doesn't really want to touch the man but reaches to check for a pulse. It’s there, but otherwise the man is out cold.

Only then he really pays attention to the scrawny red-haired boy still on his knees. He looks at HT wide-eyed, shaking, and obviously in shock. There are red prints already forming around his throat where the man had strangled him.

“Is - ,” the redhead says shakily, his voice a bit hoarse, “is he de - did he - “

“He’s still breathing.”

“Am-ambulance,” the boy says, now more anxiously and looking around, “we need an ambulance. Police! Someone!”

HT doesn't reply but flips out his phone. The boy keeps glancing at him as he gets a hold of HC on the other end and explains the situation. He frowns when it doesn't sound like a 911 call to him.

“Who was that?”

“My brother. He knows what to do.”

Well, HT knew what to do, too, but he wasn’t in the position to make those things happen. Not yet, at least. But he knew.

HT asks where MGS lives and offers to walk him the rest of the way. MGS seems confused about should they just leave the man and not wait for his brother. HT assures him that his brother will come any minute now. It’s all under control. The words kind of come out of his mouth without him even realizing what he’s saying. He would like to think it’s the shock but knows it’s his training. It’s the protocol. When you follow certain steps, there is no need to panic.

And yet his hands are trembling when he finally puts the bottle down. Oh, well. He would fake till he made it.

On their way to MGS’s home, MGS is quiet and just clutches his backpack against his front. HT tilts the umbrella to cover MGS more, seeing how he is shaking from cold and shock.

HT tries to make idle conversation. He asks MGS’s name, where he goes to school, what was he doing out in the rain, is there anyone at home, and maybe mentions that he’s seen MGS around the school. Little by little the atmosphere starts to loosen and the tightness in MGS’s voice eases up. Talking also relaxes HT.

At MGS’s house, MGS looks at HT and asks if he wants to come inside to dry up. He’s frowning a little and seems worried. HT looks at him a bit dumbfounded and then bursts out a laugh.

“You really are quite something,” he says at MGS’s confused face. “You just survived all that and you’re already inviting a stranger to your home. Are you an idiot?”

MGS’s face darkens, and he says that if HT would rather walk back in soaked clothes, then it’s his business. He looks hurt and embarrassed. The attitude makes HT smile a little, though, and he tousles the wet red hair.

“I’ll see you around,” he says and leaves with a little wave over his shoulder.

He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for a certain red hair at school from now on.

Having a friend in each other

They start running into each other at school more. (Well, HT started rotating towards MGS.) Turns out MGS has seen him around school, too. He says that HT seems popular and the girls often talk about him in class. He seems a bit confused as to why HT is seeking out his company when he has so many other friends.

MGS is a bit awkward around him, but HT finds it endearing. He’s quick to rise to teasing baits and shows his emotions quite a lot if you knew where to look. To HT, he seemed like a pure-hearted kid. Probably too pure-hearted for his own good. He was a bit stiff at first, but with some coaxing, you could get him to talk. HT liked listening to him talk the most.

The more they got to know each other, the more HT found himself hanging onto MGS’s company. When school days ended, he lingered at the crossroads where their paths parted. He made up excuses to walk MGS home or to his part-time jobs. (He thought MGS was amazing for working already, but MGS just shrugged.) Finally, walking MGS home continued to get himself invited inside for homework, snacks, some games, dinner, staying the night on Fridays.

HT soaked in all the sense of home he could get at MGS’s place. The messy pile of shoes in the entryway. The scribbled notes on the fridge door. The home-cooking. The older models of video games MGS had. The smell of cheap detergent on the sheets when he was sleeping on the floor of MGS’s small room.

Mrs. Mo was a bit surprised by his son’s unexpected friend at first but quickly adopted HT as a natural part of the household. She was more at peace knowing that MGS had some company after school when she had to work late. Sometimes she listened to the boys talk (read: HT teasing and MGS bickering) in MGS’s room. It felt like this new friend had bought some of MGS’s lost childhood back to her son’s voice.

The tighter they became, the more they naturally learned about each other. The topic of family was sore for both of them and something they didn't talk about often. MGS often got heated when the talk circulated to his father. Heated in a way that HT didn't find cute. He got angry and bitter. Usually, HT let him vent through it quietly. But MGS didn't hide things as such even though he didn't really like to talk about some of them. Instead, he was convinced and would stand his ground vehemently.

HT, on the other hand, was more evasive. He didn't want to put MGS in a position where he would know too much. MGS seemed impressed by HT’s brother. He sounded a bit jealous. HT also avoided saying much because he was ashamed. Here he was sitting in this home of good, decent people and enjoying their hospitality while he really was part of the bad guys in the world. His people were the ones who MGS hated so much when he talked about his father’s imprisonment.

But then something happened within HT’s world. Something that shocked him and scared him and gave him a traumatic experience. One day at school, he was visibly on edge and distracted. He looked increasingly tired. He snapped at MGS which he very rarely did. When at the end of the day, MGS asked if he wanted to come over (it was Friday), he was a bit relieved but also worried when HT said no. HT never said no to that.

That night Mrs. Mo had the late-night shift, so MGS was alone when HT suddenly showed up with a duffel bag. He looked horrible. There was an angry red mark on his cheek and a trickle/smear of dried up blood on the corner of his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed. He hung his head low, asking MGS if he could stay the night after all.

MGS told him to take a bath. He heated up the leftover rice-noodle soup he had had for dinner. HT looked a bit lost coming out of the bath. MGS told him to take a seat and served the food. Quietly and slowly, being careful of his cut lip, HT slurped the soup. He wouldn’t meet MGS’s eyes.

MGS wanted to ask what the hell was going on but decided against it every time the questions danced on his tongue. He was curious but he had never seen HT like this. He looked darker. At some points of the night, MGS felt like he couldn't really recognize him at all.

MGS made HT a bed on the floor the usual way. HT just turned his back to him and hummed in return when MGS said good night. After a while, MGS drifted off but woke up to strange noises. It sounded like heavy breathing. Not panting exactly but more like...gasping for breath. He snapped the lights on and found HT sitting on his makeshift bed. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was breathing hard but couldn't breathe at the same time.

Luckily MGS had been around enough hyperventilation to know what it looked like. He hurried to find a paper bag from the kitchen, cursing that the damn things were everywhere but seemed to vanish when you really needed them. He helped HT press the opening of the bag tightly against his gaping mouth. At first, it looked like HT got more panicked, but MGS kept pressing the bag firmly.

Little by little, HT’s breathing calmed down and the wild look in his eyes faded. Finally, he pushed MGS’s hands away and tried to go for a grin and joke how this was pretty lame of him but he couldn't quite work his charm. A bit lost, MGS wondered what to do. Then he asked if HT wanted to read some comics till they got sleepy again. HT didn't want to read but asked if MGS would read. And keep the lights on. And like that - while MGS was glancing at panels of high-school-level humor - HT told him about having a fight with his father, talking back to him, knowing when he had pushed over the limit, and the next thing his head had been ringing.

MGS didn't know which freaked him out more: the story, the flatness of HT’s voice, or when his voice started to get thick and he pressed his face tight against the pillow. MGS hesitated if he should comfort HT somehow but it all felt too awkward. So, he just listened and hummed whenever there was s suitable pause. Eventually, HT fell silent and after a while, MGS noticed he had fallen asleep. He fixed the blanket over HT’s shoulders, climbed to his own bed, and left the lights on.

HT stayed the weekend, but they didn't really talk about that night afterwards. The next morning, HT seemed more to himself, smirking and teasing, gobbling the breakfast MGS made them. Mrs. Mo looked at HT a bit funny when she came home from her shift but didn't say anything. She just gave the boys a free night from doing the dishes.

Overall, they got to know each other better than anyone else at school. HT knew about MGS’s excitable, softer, and adorable side. He was a good kid who worked hard and around whom HT felt at ease, though silently guilty. MGS knew the HT that wasn’t the kind of charmer everyone at school saw him as. Despite being so popular, he seemed strangely lonely to MGS. He guessed HT had some kind of darker side that he didn't want to talk about and tried to hide. MGS doubted anyone had seen HT like that other night. It seemed his family was mixed up in some shady business, and MGS didn't quite know how to feel about that.

The angst of unrequited love?

You mentioned if this version of Tianshan would be closer to Zhanyi, and I think that could be possible. I doubt they would be that kind of softer, lovey-dovey dynamic, but my nose kind of sniffed a possibility for a similar unrequited love as JY had.

HT could start gaining romantic feelings for MGS somewhere along the way. But in my head, he would hide his feelings much the same way he does/did in the canon version, just take it to a more obvious level. Mask his feelings with jokes and double meanings. Make him kind of push but then pull back as if unsure.

His feelings for MGS would be laced with believing he doesn’t deserve to be loved by someone like MGS. He’s one of the bad guys. MGS is one of the good ones, and his family has been hurt by people like HT enough. And yet HT craves for what he has with MGS and nurses his unrequited love. It gives him both pain and comfort.

But he didn't want to confess. For one, he wasn’t sure where MGS stood on things like love. He seemed awkward around girls and often ended up scaring them off by his glare and harsh tone. The topic of romance hadn't really come up, or if it had, MGS usually remained silent. One time HT had decided to roll the dice and brought up jerking off. MGS had gone beet-red and stammered that what the hell was HT talking about. For a moment, HT had toyed with the idea of pushing for more but decided against it and brushed the topic off as a joke. MGS had looked damn cute, though.

Secondly, and more importantly, HT didn't think he was worthy of MGS the way he was now. He needed to do better, he wanted to do better. He needed to make decisions instead of slinking around like a kicked puppy. He needed a vision for himself and then pursue it. So, he decided to become someone better for MGS. Someone strong and good and reliable. His own man. The first step was him making HC talk their father into letting HT live by himself. The school was a good enough excuse.

At the same time, they grew a bit apart. MGS got older and took on more part-time jobs. HT concentrated on working on himself. He lost sight of MGS for a while, and it turned out things had gone worse for him. As HT was busy becoming a better man, MGS had grown more bitter and angry. It wasn’t until HT learned that MGS had agreed to get expelled from school that he woke up to what direction MGS had drifted to. On HT’s watch, too.

They had a big argument about the deal. They had often bickered in the past but never really had a serious fight. HT was angry MGS was knowingly mixing up with people SL even though they were obviously taking advantage of him and basically making him write them a blank check. MGS fired back that how could HT understand anything since HT was people like SL. That cut deep for HT, and it was the first time he wanted to slap MGS. Instead, they got their separate ways, brooding and glaring.

The next time HT saw MGS’s face, he knew something had gone horribly wrong. He heard that MGS was accused of assaulting some girl. Furious, he went to confront MGS about how stupid he had been, but all the anger died when he saw how shaken MGS was. He looked completely lost and horrified. All he seemed able to worry about was “they are going to tell my mother”. HT hugged him tight and said that everything was going to be fine. He will sort this out, don’t worry.

He fought with SL and got HC involved, too. HC took care of the deal, but HT never told MGS how exactly it had happened. In the same way he had never told him that the homeless man had been dead by the time HC’s crew had gotten to the alleyway. Instead, HT shoved the guilt deeper where it fueled his drive to become a better man.

But HT decided one thing after that fiasco. He wouldn’t let MGS drift away anymore. He wouldn’t get so wrapped up in his own vision that he lost sight of what mattered the most.

That is I guess where this AU version kind of leaves off and connects to the canon story? This version of Tianshan would have their friendship established first, and HT’s romantic feelings would come later. They would be more unrequited in a similar angsty way as JY’s. The trust between would have also been established through their growing friendship. I feel like there would be tons of things that could be added to this, especially ending-wise, but...yeah, something like this maybe?

Thank you for your wonderfully interesting question, dear anon! How do you vision their relationship would have developed?

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #answered ask