#current brian may x reader

[mosquego359]

𖤐One Kiss and A Quidditch Match — Chapter 1: Destiny's Invitation𖤐

Prologue (recommended to read)

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 3.1K words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: It's the first day. You and your four closest friends have Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing, but you meet the teacher even before class starts and he surprises you with information you didn't realised he had. After first period, you and your group get a surprise invitation to a party.

Notes: This is my first Cedric fanfic so please forgive me for any OOC moments. Please comment anything I should change to improve this. Also, this first chapter will mainly focus on your friends, but there is an interaction with Cedric. Additionally, I am not British so I am not 100% sure how to correctly write people from the UK.

Content warning: There are a couple curse words in this chapter, but they are not too frequent. I may also write a few sexual scenes in later chapters if people request it.

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS TO ME!

...

“Just a few more days and I’ll be old enough to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. Fuck, (Name), I kinda pity you for being born in March,” one of your close friends, Alistair Campbell, ranted about his latest obsession, small pieces of chewed toast flying out of his mouth.

“Don't talk when you eat, Cambell,” another one of your friends, Elsie Wilson, gagged, removing her Slytherin cloak and draping it over the chair to your left. She sat down in an almost royal manner, carefully smoothing her skirt.

Alistair leaned across you to get close to Elsie, chewing, mouth open, intentionally being noisy, and spitting bits of mushy toast onto her lap. Elsie gasped and got back up, wiping the bread off her skirt with a napkin and a disgusted look on her porcelain face.

“It’s the first bloody day of school, Alistair. Calm down.” You pushed your cackling friend back into his chair, wondering how the hell girls were attracted to a moron like himself.

You had to agree Alistair was a looker with his curly hair dyed bright red — faded to burgundy from many Quidditch practices under the rain and days during the break where he went swimming — strong, square jaw, and flawless brown skin, but it didn’t excuse his rude behaviour.

Whenever he walked anywhere with you and the rest of your clique, girls would ogle at his pretty face and muscles, giggling and sometimes latching onto his brawny biceps, attempting to start a casual conversation. If they were smart, they would notice he wasn’t interested and walk away. If they weren't — which was most of the time — one of you had to ask them to leave.

“Blimey, Elsie! I didn’t notice you were here,” Alistair’s twin sister, Winnie, said from the other side of her brother, brushing her frizzy black hair out of her guileless eyes with a toothy grin.

Winnie spent most of her day zoning out during class or lying face-down on her bed to think about whatever she was currently obsessed with. So, one of you had to help her rush through homework or revise using your notes.

Elsie smiled painfully, sitting back down with an irked expression, “Hey, Winnie.”

You glanced around, “Wasn’t Brian supposed to come down with you?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s skipping breakfast,” she sighed. “He insisted on studying for our Defence Against the Dark Arts class — Mary, could you pass me the bacon?—and when I mean insisted, I mean insisted.” Elsie emphasised as she scraped the platter full of bacon on her plate.

“Of course he is,” said Alistair, waving his fork around like a wand.

Brian Ashmore was the final person to complete your friend group of five. Quiet and studious, he was, like you, a Half-Blood. Lucky for the both of you, no one in the school apart from a few close friends and some teachers knew about it, so you two fit right in with the Purebloods in your house. But it also made people see you as just another stereotypical Slytherin. 

After finishing your breakfast, you and your friends left the dining hall.

“Should we go find Brian or should we go to class without him?” asked Winnie. She twisted one of her black locks around her finger and skipped along next to Elsie.

Alistair waved his hand. “We all know that nerd won’t be late. Can’t be missing out on slobbering over the new DADA teachers and getting good grades,” he mocked in a pestering voice, causing you to roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Merlin’s beard, Campbell, you are such an ass.” Elsie shoved him.

“Aww, you’re so grumpy without your boyfriend,” he jeered.

You slid in between them to dissipate the argument before it escalated any further. One of your least favourite things in school was whenever those two idiots argued. Alistair always found a way to get under Elsie’s skin, and it seemed as if you were the peacekeeper of the group. Winnie usually wasn’t paying attention, and Brian didn’t care enough to solve any argument.

“Do you know what the new professor will be like?” you asked your Pureblood friends to ease the air around them, adjusting your book bag so it didn’t fall off your shoulder. “I heard he is an Auror, but that’s all I know without assuming based on looks.”

That seemed to do the trick because Alistair nodded with interest, “Yes. He’s called Mad-Eye Moody. From what I heard from Pa, he’s a rather crazy old bloke.”

Mr. Campbell was a professional auror and rather famous with a knack for violence. While Winnie aspired to be as recognised as her father in the same field of work, Alistair’s dream was to soar in the air and be a famous Quidditch Beater.

"Well, it’s unfortunate that you both share a name, then.” Elsie commented, obviously still peeved from your friend’s previous comment, “If we try to refer to the “insane Alistair”, people won’t be sure which one we’re talking about.”

“Wait what?” He stopped walking.

Elsie flashed him a quick smirk, “You didn’t know? Mad-Eye isn’t his first name, you eejit. You’re both called Alistair.”

“And all of you will be late if you keep stopping in the middle of the hallway,” a gruff voice said behind them.

You turned to be faced with a savage-looking man roughly the same height as you, with a balding head of greasy ginger hair. He had one normal-looking eye while the other was electrical blue, rolling around as if scanning his surroundings. His wrinkly, squashed face reminded you of a mean pitbull.

“And it’s Alastor Moody, young Miss,” he pointed a thick finger at Elsie, who recoiled in embarrassment and mild fear. “Not that’s any of your business; you’ll be calling me Professor.” 

“Sorry, Professor, it’s just playful teasing; my friends didn’t mean anything,” you jumped in as you gripped your bag’s brown strap, noting how you were the only one of your friends who wasn’t too affected by his odd appearance. You remember your parents raising you to never judge people based on looks.

The man leaned closer, seeing you eye-to-eye, “Hmm, you look familiar, Lassie. What’s your name?”

“(Name) (Surname), Professor.”

Moody barked a laugh, a sudden sound that caused you to flinch in surprise. “That’s why you look so familiar. I knew your mother, (Mom’s Name) (Maiden Name). It was unfortunate a brilliant witch like herself married a man like your father.”

You looked away at the mention of your Muggle father. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t a wizard that bothered you. Well yes, it was, but what frightened you was what the school would do if they found out. Many Purebloods were discriminatory towards any wix with Muggle ancestry, and being known as a Half-Blood or Muggleborn would greatly affect how students saw you. That was why you and Brian only informed people you were close to about your parentage.

You remembered, at first, Alistair was rather rankled after being revealed that information, but quickly got over it. You were aware that many others wouldn’t be so merciless.

But Mad-Eye Moody didn’t elaborate, only holding eye contact with you for a couple of seconds until he turned to walk around your group with a clickety-clack of something inanimate hitting the floor. Did this already odd man have a peg leg?

Winnie waited until he rounded a corner to speak, “He’s a little weird.”

Alistair shuddered. “He gave me chills. It’s so eerie how he just sneaked up on us out of nowhere.” He glanced towards you. “I also find it strange how he knew who you were, (Name).”

You were still turned to face where Moody disappeared. A peculiar smile stretched across your face.

“This is gonna be a good year.”

“What was that madman talking about? Late? We’re practically the first ones!” Elsie growled when you and your clique entered the spacious classroom.

“You have an unpleasant habit of insulting teachers, Elsie. One day, it’ll get you in real trouble.”

Mad-Eye Moody was nowhere to be seen, but behind a desk at the front of the classroom stood a boy with slicked-back hair streaked with a big slash of grey across the brown. He was twirling a quill; grey eyes focused on the object so you could see him from his side profile. His tired, unsmiling face turned to look at you and you spotted the burn scar covering the bottom half of his left side.

“Briaaannnn,” Winnie whined, dramatically swaying to the scar-faced teenager and enveloping him in a warm, Winnie-coded hug. “You need to eat! It’s unhealthy to be skipping breakfast.”

Brian Ashmore set the pen on a nearby desk and patted her head softly, bored eyes now focused on her form. Silence was his only response.

A mutter of voices came from the entrance behind you. It must have been five boys — four voices you didn’t recognise, one that you were very very familiar with. 

“Excuse me, could you please move out of the doorway?”

You turned around to be met by Cedric Diggory’s striking grey eyes. He stood, one book tucked under his arm, slightly ahead of his friends. His sweet smile slowly faded as he realised who he was talking to.

You eyed one another, and he and your friends fell silent watching the interaction.

“Of course, I just had to share my favourite class with Diggory,” you thought. “I forgot we had Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs this year. Don’t we also have Herbology together?” You felt slightly ticked off that you shared most of Hufflepuff’s favourite class with Cedric and the 6th year of his house. If only the schedule was similar to last year, and Snape’s class was the one you had with him. At least there, you could flaunt your skills with flamboyance.

You saw a muscle tick in Cedric’s square jaw as he forced a polite smile, “Sorry, (Surname), I neglected to simplify my words so you could understand the point I am trying to make.” A couple of his friends snickered. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you cut him off.

“I find that wouldn’t be necessary; a prodigy like myself can comprehend simple Hufflepuff dialect,” you responded as calmly as possible, keeping yourself from punching his stupid face.

Cedric let out a sarcastic laugh. “Of course, I forgot that you defined smart as using a couple pretty words in your sentences.”

Your face contorted into a snarl, “Oh really? How’s your Exceeding Expectations in Potions doing, Diggory?” You practically spat at him, teeth bared and hands on your hips. You rolled your shoulder back to prevent your bag from slipping, keeping your aggressive attitude.

Cedric’s nostrils flared, and you knew you hit a nerve. 

But he didn’t do anything. Instead, he shoved past you to the desk at the second row furthest from the door. His friends followed suit, settling in a couple of seats near him.

You smirked triumphantly, walking over to Winnie and Brian with Elsie and Alistair confidently strutting behind you. You honestly found it rather funny how your group was sometimes more passionate about your and Cedric’s bickering than either of you.

You placed your bookbag at the desk closest to the door and chatted with your friends, waiting as students slowly filtered into the class and filled in the spots left.

Finally, as Alistair was recounting one of his dates with his girlfriend over the summer break — Elsie looked peeved, while Brian emphasised his surprise at how long their relationship was lasting — you saw the rough-looking professor limp through the door, his peg leg tapping against the wooden floor.

All of your classmates’ conversations halted at the sight of the strange man. They already saw him at the Great Feast yesterday, but they couldn’t help but stare, your friends included.

The students who weren’t seated settled into their desks. Alistair pulled back the chair to your right, the girls were at the desk directly to your right, and Brian was behind them, one of his and Cedric’s mutual friends, Leslie Westmore, to his right.

Professor Moody hobbled to the front of the class.

“Right then,” he said, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin telling me of the subjects you’ve learned from last year. Seems you’ve covered rather interesting creatures — Merfolk, Basilisks, a bit of Dragons, and Phoenixes, ain’t that right?” 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the students, and you nodded, mildly interested.

“A bit disappointing that you didn’t finish the unit on Dragons, but what you know right now is alright. But you are behind — very behind — with dealing with Dark Curses. Now, Dumbledore believes that you are old enough to study these curses only in 6th year, but I disagree. It’s never too early to learn about them. If you’d be in 3rd or 2nd year, lacking understanding would be acceptable. But you are already in 6th year, and having no knowledge of the Dark Arts — the real Dark Arts — is very very unfortunate.”

Brian raised his hand but didn’t wait to be called on to speak, “Actually, sir, Professor Lupin informed us quite a bit on the subject of the Dark Arts — specifically the Unforgivable Curses.” 

“Is that so?” Professor Moody stared directly at him with his normal eye, his prosthetic one zooming around the room, before settling down on two girls at the back, “You need to put those candies away, Miss Armstrong and Miss Hilton; my classroom is not a restaurant.”

The girls blushed and frantically put their candy back in their bags, eyes downcast with embarrassment. You felt remorse towards them, but not enough to be distracted from the lesson.

Moody continued without skipping a beat, “With that new information, I think I know where to start this lesson. Alright, everybody knows what the Imperius Curse does, yes?” After a short second with hesitant nods of approval from the students, he continued, “Good, because today you will learn how to resist it.”

By the end of the first period, a red-faced Brian, a distracted Winnie, a sore Alistair, a smug-looking Elsie, and a sympathetic you walked out of Professor Moody’s classroom.

After a couple of paces, Brian shoved his face into his hands and let out a dejected groan. You placed your hand on his shoulder, gently petting his deltoids, a solicitous smile on your lips as you tried to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.”

He took his head out of his hand, and you saw his cheeks were rose-red. “Well, you weren’t the one who played Princess Fairy in front of the whole class, Mr. Perfect.” He sighed miserably, “One word goes around the school, I’ll be ruined!”

“Oh please,” Alistair jumped in with a hand massaging his coccyx, “I’d much rather do that than have to sit out for a single Quidditch practice because of a butt injury of all things. Blimey, he’s truly a madman…”

Next to him, you could hear Winnie humming as if she had never eaten that spider not even twenty minutes prior. Even the thought of doing the same nauseated you, so seeing your friend looking serene made you question her morality. 

Elsie shrugged, joining the conversation, "Well, at least everyone else in the class had to go through a similar experience as us, so if they are daft enough to mess with you, you could just blackmail them.” It was nice that Elsie acted sympathetic towards Alistair, but you suspected she was actually talking to Brian.

“Funny. The two only students who managed to break from the curse are comforting us,” huffed Brian.

Elsie gave him a confident half-smirk and raised her eyebrows while you shrugged with a chuckle, tugging on your bag’s straps.

“Puddings!”

The four of you engaged in the conversation halted, and you grabbed Winnie’s arm so she didn’t wander off. This snapped her back into reality, and you turned your heads to face the direction of the noise.

A pretty girl with honey-brown eyes and wavy, blond hair tied into a low ponytail ran up to your group.

You saw Alistair’s pained smile turn into his typical, white-toothed grin when she wrapped her skinny arms around his torso. She was over a head shorter than him, so she buried her face into his chest with a sing-song sigh.

Once she pulled away, Elsie eyed her repeatedly, “What do you want, White?”

The pretty blonde — a popular Pureblood Hufflepuff named Destiny White — frowned at Elsie’s cold comment, “You shouldn’t be so mean, Elsie, aren’t we friends? We don’t treat friends like that.” She paused momentarily before giving her a slightly satirical smile, “Or maybe Slytherin girls are just rude like that.”

Elsie narrowed her eyes, but when Brian touched her shoulder, she held her condescending tongue. As much as you disliked Elsie’s outbursts, you agreed that Destiny was a reasonable person to yell at.

Destiny turned back to a haughty-looking Alistair, handing him a paper envelope, “Anyways, the Weasley twins are hosting a little get-together for all the students 16 and up. We’re meeting up at 11 PM tonight in front of the Gryffindor common room so they can let us in.”

“Why would they host a party in a common room?” You inquired, confused, “Wouldn’t it wake up the younger kids?”

Destiny let out a little giggle, “The party isn’t in the common room, silly. I’d tell you the location, but that’s a little secret, and we don’t want the professors to overhear.” She lowered her voice as she spoke, “All the info is in the invitation.”

“Are we invited?” Winnie spoke up from behind you. She eyed the envelope her brother held in his hand with piqued interest.

“Of course,” Destiny stuck her hand into her pocket to retrieve four other letters, handing them to your group. Elsie was the only one who hesitated before begrudgingly plucking it from Destiny’s hand. 

Brian eyed his envelope suspiciously, “How did you get so many?”

“Fred and George want my help since I’m friends with tons of people here!”

“Thanks, Babe,” Alistair smirked, leaning down to peck her cheek, and Destiny giggled. “We’ll be there.”

They shared a quick kiss on the lips, and Destiny slowly backed away, waving her hand, “I hope to see all of you at the party,” she spun around before stopping and turning her head, eyeing Elsie with a cheeky expression, “Even those who might ruin it.”

Immediately after she was out of earshot, Elsie hissed at Alistair, red-faced with vexation, “Leave her; she’s a bitch.”

Alistair laughed, “No way. One of the perks of dating her is the way she always manages to piss you off.” He elbowed her arm playfully before advancing to his next class, too ignorant to notice the faint blush spreading across Elsie’s cheeks.

...

Thank you for reading, please comment any suggestions you have or any issues I should fix. Like I said in a Tumblr post, I will only post on Thursdays at 12 AM BST. I may post every week or every two weeks, I don't really know. It depends how long I take. For those who are interested, here's how I imagined Winnie would look like.

Chapter 2

[bogusboxed]

Boxtobier ⊗ Day 1

"Go Big or Gourd Home.”

Pairing: Toby Rogers X GN!Reader

Theme: "Pumpkins." & "I've Got You.”

Rating: (PG-13)

Words: 3.9k

Trigger Warning(s): Vulgar Language & Descriptions of Scars.

        The rights to this character, "Ticci Toby," fully belong to Kastoway.

This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.

"I saw this on TikTok once!" Toby tried to speak before you cut him off. "Stop. Stop right there—we are not adding fucking mayo to this pumpkin pie."

You may have been trying to make a mess of the place with the poor excuse of trying to make a pie. But you weren’t about to add mayonnaise to this thing.

You sighed; maybe this wasn’t the best way to get payback on Tim.

⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇

An hour before this deranged chaos, you’d been called down by Brian and Tim.

This wasn’t anything brand new; you were usually issued some requests, among other things, like a few tips, reminders, and things to do while they were out on their mission.

But instead, this time, you were greeted with a heap of shit. That heap was a very unwanted critique of your work performance.

Of course, it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle constructive criticism. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was his sassy little Southern attitude.

⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇

Brian had been leaning against the wall closest to the front door in his typical canary hoodie. He wasn’t wearing his ski mask yet, instead clutching onto the fabric with a shit-eating grin. He watched you both silently, like a hawk above two bickering rabbits.

"I know you can do better than... well, that."

Tim sighed, making direct eye contact with you while baring a half-lidded expression. 

He hadn’t seemed bothered by his last-second addition; in fact, he seemed relaxed, placing his hands into his jeans pockets.

He didn’t harp on it too much but made it clear he wasn’t impressed by your "lackluster conduct" on your last mission. It was his professional way of saying he thought your way of handling your missions was half-assed and messy.

But, to you, it wasn’t any of his business to judge and stalk how well you performed solo. You knew you were the newest addition to the proxies, but you were just as capable as any other proxy, if not better.

So, in a childish backstab, you invited Toby (of all people) to make a pumpkin pie with you.

To the average person, making a pumpkin pie was an extremely nice thing to do with friends. But the thing was, you weren’t in it for the pie.

You were in it for the anarchy of a mess Toby was going to mindlessly create, and he was more than happy to oblige, thinking this was just a cute, innocent activity you two were going to bond over.

Currently, you had just shoved the pie into the rust-covered oven; it was finally semi-done, and all you had to do now was let the turmoil simmer.

Taking a swift and profound inhale, you let your shoulders fall. Considering all things, your plan to get revenge on Tim was going perfectly.

Taking the time to scan the granite countertop, you found that flour had been recklessly scattered and even dumped nearly all over the place. To add to this disaster, the pumpkin puree you two had fought with ended up everywhere, including the ceiling.

Admiring the mess you bet Toby would make with a devilish smile, you turned to your fawn-headed counterpart. He blinked slowly, his usual sarcastic, hyper personality dimming to detachment.

He took a sluggish, staggered exhale like he finally took in the severity of the mess you two made.

"...Tim’s going to kill us," he stuttered, fumbling over his words while mindlessly furrowing his thick eyebrows.

Looking at his face, a mix of pumpkin and flour was streaked all over his soft, distressed features. From his freckles to his scars, the ingredients covered just about all of him. It was even on the shitty apron he stole that read, "To-do list: Let's Get Griddy Gang." (What deranged teen did he steal that from?)

The corners of your lips curled upward as he watched a mischievous glint appear in your eyes. "I hope so."

"What—are you a masochist? -I-... never mind. Don’t answer that." He huffed, shivering from the chest up.

Not because he was cold, but because he just functioned like that.

He swallowed thickly, watching the kitchen timer slowly dial down. He couldn’t accept the fact that you genuinely wanted to make Tim hate your guts, so he just watered it down to you being clinically insane.

Although he wasn’t too off target.

You had your entire scheme planned out on a whim; once the pumpkin pie was done, you’d place it on the countertop and immediately leave for your mission with Toby, all right before your "roommates" got back.

Staying in a still, dazing silence, you decided you’d go ahead and get the most arguably important element you needed for this dessert. The thing that’d tie it all together, like the cherry on top of the hurricane.

The whipped cream.

Leaving the lankier man’s side, you traversed through the disordered mess to reach the fridge.

Heaving the steel door open, you were hit with a frigid breeze of air that’d been accumulating inside all day. Ignoring the cold, you allowed your eyes to filter through all the items. From the pickle jar, milk, and beer to the black body bag.

Until you saw it. You immediately reached up to the skinny aluminum can, and your warm palms quickly reacted to the cold metal. However, something was off.

It was light.

His gaze retreated from yours, tension rising in his limbs. He sank inward, his posture shrimping forward as you eyed his motions. He scratched his palm, clearly trying to avoid your suspicions.

He mumbled sharply, narrowing his eyes while feeling his throat constrict, "I was hungry—what else was I supposed to eat? - Pickles?"

You sighed, dismissing his defensive behavior as you brought the half-empty can to the nasty countertop. You didn’t get why he couldn’t just admit it and move on. You didn’t understand why he had to get so bent out of shape for being called out on something as stupid as that.

Your eyes apprehended the surrounding clutter with satisfaction. Dropping his behavior, you softly nodded your head to the wreckage of the kitchen. As disorienting as it looked to the average person, the mess had looked serene to you.

Even with Toby’s unclear personality, you had to admit you enjoyed his presence. Having to live in this cabin in the middle of nowhere was mind-wrenching and would make even the sanest person question things.

Especially since you worked under that thing.

Although the people you considered to be your current coworkers weren’t all that bad, when you reached the top, you were finally separated from the others. After that, your life had become substantially more placid.

It wasn’t to say the work wasn’t harder than before, because it was. But at least here you had real free time. You had time to clear your mind away from all the horrors of your job without being bothered by a coal-haired, tweaked-out serial killer.

Plus, Kate, Tim, Brian, and Toby were easier to stand than the others you had to work with, and unlike the others, you didn’t mind spending time with them. But you just wished you could’ve all met under different circumstances. (Not that you’d ever admit that to any of them.)

Finally placing the whipped cream on top of the cakey debris, Toby decided he’d continue the small talk, "So, uh, what are we going to do about the mess?"

He watered the situation down, knowing you both could visually see the multitude of the destruction.

"Nothing," you replied instantaneously as he stiffened at your words. 

His view flickered toward you as his mouth slightly hung open, forming a silent "O." By his expression, you could tell he was starting to actually believe you had a death wish.

He muttered under his breath, almost not believing what you were saying, "Why?"

You kept quiet, deciding whether or not telling him the truth about why he was here would be a good idea or not. You knew he had anger issues, but you didn’t know if your deceitful actions would set him off or not.

But yet again, lying would just escalate the problem.

"...To get back at Tim," you exhaled softly, knowing just how childish it sounded.

He tilted his head at you. To him, the words that came from your mouth were foreign. He didn’t know how to take being associated with your crimes, but he didn’t mind it all that much. 

He just thought you were stupid.

"Yeah, 'cause that’s a good fucking idea." He chuckled at you, his healed mouth tear contorting upward.

In a hush, he still had a smile indented into his features. He wasn’t going to shoot down your plans entirely, considering he’d had his agenda of getting back at Tim.

Looking at you with his curved features, he questioned your methods, "Then what? I mean, he’s going to be back eventually, and he's going to be pissed."

"By that time, I should be off on my mission." You folded, admitting the rest of your plans to your now willing accomplice.

Toby held his tongue with a light smile. He began to lean back on the disaster of a countertop behind him, not thinking about the potential that it could stain the back of his hoodie.

You watched him lay the rest of his weight back before moving a hand to his temple. Strands of hair that once stuck to his forehead were fluffed as he allowed himself to drop his shoulders.

His nut-brown eyes were dilated and unfocused on anything you had to say.

All things considered, this was a pretty positive response from Toby. He didn’t seem all that tense, and you knew what he was typically like from the months you’d shared a cabin with him.

But, from his current expression, you didn’t have an ounce of worry that you’d get any backlash from him. In fact, he seemed all in on your naive rebellion against Tim.

He chewed on his raw bottom lip absently and said, "Y’know, I tried—to burn down the cabin my first week."

You felt your eyes blink several times before fully processing what he just said. Hearing that, you regretted not going further with your actions. (Poor Tim.)

You raised your eyebrows involuntarily, replying, "If you're still standing, then maybe I have a chance."

He breathlessly chuckled at your words, continuing to gnaw on his healed wounds. A droplet of crimson raced down his chin as he nibbled at it, not noticing the warm liquid trace his scar-filled features.

He stood there, still reclined on the granite, "Yeah- well, Tim dragged me along for any missions he had after that."

Hearing those words, you felt your throat tighten. Now you really couldn’t afford to be caught in the crossfire of this mess. But if what he said was true (and it probably was), You’d only be denying the inevitable of having to be followed by Tim for a good month or two.

But, yet again, maybe he’d have more mercy on you, considering you didn’t burn down the cabin.

*DING*

The dingy, off-white kitchen timer finally rang, breaking the slight silence you two had harbored. You felt yourself flinch at the abrupt buzz, while Toby didn’t seem all that phased by the sudden noise, and if he was, he was able to unconsciously restrict his movement.

You rambled some curse words before swiftly racing over to the 2000s stove. Your hands ran to the knob, cranking it off before grabbing two distinct, picnic-looking gloves from the stovetop you’d conveniently left beforehand. Hastily, you slid your red gingham-patterned mittens on as you yanked the oven door open.

A wave of heat blew against your face, causing a slight burning sensation on your cheeks. The warmth enveloped you, putting a thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

The heat messed with your vision as you aggressively blinked through it.

With the hot breeze, you could smell the pie. The aroma was soft on your nose, as hints of cinnamon and spice danced in the air. The addicting smell was enough to make you take a quick inhale before returning to your original focus.

Through the heated air, the oven’s interior light helped to illuminate the scene. The dim light revealed a perfectly caramelized pumpkin pie that sat in the middle of a metal tray.

Steam radiated from the pie, showing it was still somewhat cooking.

Reaching inside, you grabbed the blazing pan from the inferno. Lifting the tray, you could feel just how heavy the pie was.

The baked good was a hefty, dense pie that completely relied on your steadiness to not collide with the floor. You could feel your frame teetering, inches away from falling face-first into the oven.

You swallowed, trying your hardest not to tip over while still pulling the pastry out.

Finally retrieving the tray a little more than halfway, thoughts started to impulsively soil your mind. What if you went too fast and it tipped over? What if you had bent too far and there was just no safe way to retreat?

At this point, you could feel just how hot the cooking tray was.

You felt how the heat seeped through the fabric mittens and onto your palms. 

You needed to speed up before you burned yourself. Pulling the pan up further, you suddenly felt your soles slowly slip due to the pumpkin puree under you.

Dread filled you as you began to slide on the smooth flooring. 

You had accepted your fate, and while still trying to lift the burning tray to a safe spot, you started sliding fully. Thinking of a safe way to execute your plan, you paused your movement to not further the slide. 

That was until you felt a presence hovering behind you.

You would’ve questioned the person if you didn’t have a steaming pan stuck in both hands. Standing there, almost falling with the tray, two skinny hands quickly covered your own from behind.

Arms surrounded yours, helping you hold onto the pan.

"I’ve got you." Toby stuttered as he stabilized you and the tray.

You were stunned, to say the least. You did need help; you just didn’t expect it to come in this manner. He was close—almost too close for just friends to be. You could hear his rapid heartbeat as his muted, warm breath invaded your neck.

The sensation that this brought was so much warmer than the freshly baked pie that had been cemented to your hands.

Your thoughts felt like they were leaking out of your head like your brain was slipping out of your ear.

Noiselessly, you froze up like an idiot. Thoughts paralyzed you when you smelled the pine on his worn-out hoodie.

Every breath you took sealed your fate. You wanted to speak, but here you were holding your peace. The feeling pulsing through you had to have been what sinking in quicksand felt like.

He had planned on mirroring your movements from behind until you just decided to stand still like a mannequin on display, "Are you going to place it? Or what?"

God, you had been spacing out.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Returning to consciousness, you forced yourself to continue your original plan. Ignoring the figure observing your stillness, you finally pulled the tray out completely.

The weight of the pie, which seemed almost unmanageable seconds ago, was now securely resting in your shared hands.

Carefully holding the fall-themed dessert, you maneuvered the both of you to the gasoline stovetop. The way you two cooperated felt like a team game as you both gently placed the pumpkin pie down.

Once the pan made a satisfying clink sound with the oven, his bony hands swiftly uncovered yours. He pulled his lean, well-formed arms, now fully away from your figure.

As you pulled your oven mittens from your warm palms, you felt his brisk absence.

Exhaling, you distracted yourself with the pie. The once-saffron orange had been reduced to a muted ginger. Near the edges of the circular treat was a deep auburn shade hinting that it’d been cooking using its heat. 

Admiring your work, you couldn’t help but think how good it’d taste on a crisp Halloween night.

The toasty atmosphere was still swirling, enveloping the both of you. Inhaling the aroma of the freshly baked pie, you could feel the lingering tension. Your breath stifled, trying to embrace the smell rather than your accusing thoughts.

A mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a tinge of cloves spread through the cabin like wildfire. Honestly, the pie smelled like a lit candle from a high-end store.

Looking back at Toby, you met his sight, "Thanks."

The words were plain and simple. Relaxing you could feel the heat of the room gradually decline.

"A-huh," he muttered back at you, resigning his gaze to the floor.

You watched him scratch the inside of his mixed hands more destructively than he needed to. The conversation was growing dry as you didn’t say anything in response to his dead tone.

Your sight soon hunted down the almost hollow can. There wasn’t much left. Not nearly enough for each slice to have its own dollop. Would one swirl in the middle be enough, or was it not even worth it at that point?

Indecisiveness flared through you as you decided to use this moment as a spark for conversation, "Cream or no cream?"

"Well, there’s not much left, but if you want to do one dumb dollop, then go ahead." He replied, picking at his fingers like he wasn’t the reason you were lacking whipped cream.

Looking at him this close, you could tell he was chewing the inside of his cheek. He seemed to have ignored what happened last time. Eyes tracing to the other side, you looked at the hollow gape in his mouth. Teeth ran up his jaw like a canine, revealing his darkened gums.

You tapped your fingers on the skinny can like a drum as his eyes flickered to yours. "Y’know, it’s rude to— stare."

You slightly recoiled, turning your gaze elsewhere as he dropped his head slightly to the side. Unannounced to you, a misshapen smile formed on his face. He was fond of the way you responded to his words.

"Sorry." You exhaled, knowing he was playing with you.

In response to your words, he lightheartedly giggled. He had a certain way of letting you know if he was upset with you, and this wasn’t it. But, still, you didn’t want to set him off in any way.

He knew he shouldn’t mess with you like that, but he found it so addicting.

You heard a firm click of the tongue, and unwillingly, you turned back to him. He was tracing his convoluted scars with his index finger; no blood dripped from the healed wounds. At this point, it seemed he wanted your attention.

He wanted you to look at his wilted wounds with loathing repulsion. He needed to hear you critique his looks so he could bury the feeling deep inside of him.

Instead, your sight trailed from his face to his arms and then to his hands.

His sculpted hands were littered with disfigured markings from his past. The valleys of his fingers had been flawed with absent chucks of flesh like he’d gnawed them off a while ago.

But that aged damage wasn’t what you were disturbed by.

It was the inflamed scarlet decorating his chapped palms. The marking seemed tender to the touch, unlike the rehabilitated marks everywhere else. He held his shaky breath in his throat, seeming to realize what you were skeptical of.

"...You touched the pan, didn’t you?" Your words came out loosely; you watched him swallow densely now, not enjoying the words coming from you.

He kept silent with a stiff expression (he got caught red-handed), "Maybe."

Of course, Toby couldn’t feel it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t injured. With the number of reckless incidents he inflicted on himself, you’d think he’d learned by now.

Typically, his only argument was that it gave you all the superhuman ability to heal wounds overnight, and while that was true, it could still get infected in that time frame.

Inhaling, you wished that he hadn’t helped you after all. He didn’t have to, but he did. Of course, you might’ve fallen on your ass if he hadn't, but still, there was a chance you wouldn’t have.

Maybe he was scared that you'd drop the pie you two worked so hard on, or maybe he was driven by a feeling of irrationality that had him doing before thinking.

You came to his side before calmly reaching out for his scorched palms. He withdrew naturally before he realized your intentions. He soon gently rested both of his unstable hands on yours.

Taking both of his trauma-filled hands, you investigated the swollen skin. You absent-mindedly started to run your digits all along the inflamed marks.

Reaching his palms, you could tell he was much warmer than he should’ve been.

In concern, you mildly pulled him by the wrist. Mindfully, you both treaded through the battlefield of a mess to the sink. You turned the faucet, bringing it to a slow, manageable pace.

Quickly, swatting your hand through the water to ensure it was at a safe temperature, you pulled his wrist again, motioning him to cool down the wound. He glared at you before giving in to your concerns. The water splashed the side of the sink in response to his hands suddenly changing the course of the mini waterfall.

He stayed quiet, looking down at you. "You realize I can’t feel it, right?"

"Yeah, but you’re still wounded." You rebutted his obvious observation, holding back the urge to say something witty.

You solemnly watched the liquid deliberately stop the inflammation. It wasn’t like you didn’t know about his medical condition; it was more that you didn’t like him denying his physical well-being. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal to him, but it was to you.

"...Thank you." The words dripped from the grit of his teeth lowly, almost like he didn’t want you to hear them.

You grinned hearing him force his pride away, "You’re welcome."

You looked him in the eyes and kept your smile. It felt right to help him, and it felt even better to hear him praise your efforts.

"We should probably-" He tried to speak until both of you were abruptly cut off by a noise neither of you wanted to hear.

The doorbell.

Heads turned to the front door; it was obvious they were back. Anticipation bubbled viciously in your stomach. How long had you two been messing around?

This wasn’t good. Neither of you was supposed to be here right now. It wasn’t part of the plan. You felt your body stiffen as you swiftly looked at your partner in crime. He seemed to stare at you just the same.

"Fuck."

-

Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)

Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)

Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342

A/N: I won't be participating much this year due to my personal life. Things are pretty messy over here, but I hope the oneshots I do post are okay!

-

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need - Part 1

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Chapter Warning: Premature labour mentioned, brief mention of sexual harassment in the workplace.

Chapter Summary: We meet our reader and one of her soul friends. Does she need a bat?

Message Received Daniel Are you on your way yet? I think she might be calmer if she knew you were at least on route.

Daniel, soulmate to one of your best friends, had woken you this morning with a frantic phone call. Annemarie, one of your soul friends was in labour, but it was too early for baby to make an appearance and you and your other best and soul friend, Ryan, were her other birthing partners and were now in a race to get there.

You were all in. You’d taken classes, baby first aid, read books and had your bag packed for weeks already just in case. You were going to be a godmother and this was serious shit. Ryan had watched most of the online labour classes from behind a pillow like he was watching a Blumhouse horror.

You sent a quick reply to Daniel.

I’m just waiting for Ry, I’m going to start beeping the horn in a minute.

Ryan often kept you waiting. Always a change of outfit or something he’d forgotten. He hated the impatient beeping.

You leaned your head back against the head rest and let out a yawn. Not the best start when you had a 6 hour drive ahead of you.

You were startled by the ringing of your phone coming through the hands free, Ryan calling displayed on the dashboard.

“Why are you calling me? Hurry up, Annemarie is freaking out that we aren’t on the way yet.”

“Start the car and get ready to floor it?”

“What? Why?”

Your attention was caught by a familiar figure entering the stairwell that you could see from where you were parked.

"Why are you running?"

“They wouldn’t let me leave!”

“What do you mean they wouldn’t let you leave? This was all agreed! You’re owed the time!”

“I know! But she’s not here!”

By she, Ryan meant his boss, Jo, who also happened to be your old boss. You’d both sweet talked her into letting him have the leave when the baby was on the way. Short notice leave was never agreed to but Ryan had gone in early and stayed late, covering for others and helping out as much as possible. Being the life and soul of the office and covering for others so they could leave for their kids or appointments meant his colleagues had also been ok with it too. You and Jo were good friends and had stayed in touch after you’d left. She’d been a huge support to you since your almost (it probably was) breakdown post breakup, so you’d thrown in some babysitting for her adorable twin boys and a deal was made. But Jo and her adorable kids, and her soulmate husband were currently sunning themselves somewhere exotic. That’s management earnings for you.

“Brian is pissed off, I may have told him to go fuck himself when he said he wouldn’t let me leave and he’d sack me if I did.”

It was then you spotted Brian at the top of the stairwell in pursuit or Ryan.

“He’s following you. I’m getting the bat.”

“Alright Harley Quinn calm the fuck down.”

“You’re the one who said he wouldn’t let you leave.”

“Yeah well he can go fuck himself.”

“Wait why do you have a box? Are you stealing? Am I an accessory? I’m getting the bat.”

“Just start the car!”

You started the car and put your seatbelt on. The fire exit flew open as Ryan dashed through it, jacket a mess, backpack half on and the box still in his arms, Brian and now a security guard on his heals.

Ryan practically threw himself into your car, partly falling onto you in the process.

“Go, go, go”

“Why do I feel like there’s more to this?”

“Go!!!”

You spotted Brian nearing the car and put your foot on the accelerator.

A mile down the road with Ryan still squished in the passenger seat you’d pulled over to sort out your chaotic friend. You placed the box in the backseat, along with his backpack, spotting he’d stole the office plant, as Ryan took off his jacket and stretched like a cat. You smirked at him.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that? And you stole the plant!”

“He’s an asshole!”

“Oh I know, my ass still lives in fear of his grabby hands!”

“Exactly!! I may have brought that up, along with a few other things.”

“So are you fired?”

“Possibly.”

You pulled him into a hug.

“Proud of you.”

He laughed into your shoulder. You were always proud of each other in weird ways.

“The ten years ago Ryan would never.”

“Well I learnt my dramatics from the best?”

You gasped in mock horror.

“Meeeeee, no you meant Darcy right? Or Wanda? It was Wanda, wasn’t it?”

“Really? Wanda is the least dramatic of us all!“

“She set fire to her ex boyfriend’s clothes and got us to dance round it in our underwear.”

“Oh I miss that little witch.”

“Speaking of the little witch. You’re on phone duty, get those two on a group call but call Annemarie first. She’s in a state and we need to move our arses. Then call the lady re the Airbnb.” You replied, moving back to the drivers seat.

Ryan slipped on his sunglasses and leaned against the car. You pressed the horn hard.

“Hey unemployed, get in the car!!”

He startled and got in.

“Asshole.”

“I learnt from the best” you said pulling on your own sunglasses and turning on the radio.

“I love it when you’re assertive!” He replied as you snorted with laughter.

You were half a mile down the road when Ryan spoke up again, as he looked for his phone.

“I wonder if we’ll see any hot bikers this time.”

[winchesterszvonecek]

#9 “Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” “O-Okay.” 

Brian Zvonecek x fem

From the “That’s how I want you to touch me” Prompt list (or something like that I kinda forgot the proper title sorry)

Inexperienced - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ] 18+

Prompt: “Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” “O-Okay.” 

Word Count: 1479

Warnings: female!reader, smut - [ oral - fem!receiving, inexperienced Brian ]

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

Brian always knew he wasn’t the most experienced when it came to women, not like Severide or Casey, or even Cruz for that matter. He knew there were things he hadn’t done yet, things he was yet to try and he was okay with that, he’d learned to live with his inexperience. That was until he met you.

Meeting you had been the best thing that ever happened to him. The luckiest moment of his life, one he still couldn’t believe had actually happened. Brian could already see a long and loving future with you, even after the short few weeks that you’d been together, which is why when the two of you decided to abandon your movie to have a little fun instead, he figured that now would be the best time to broaden his horizons.

You'd already made him feel better than he'd ever felt before, more attractive, more in the league of men a woman like you should be with. The way you touched him, nails digging so deep into his skin that you left more than just dents. The softness of your lips mixed with the hotness of your tongue as you kissed every single part of him you could reach, making all traces of any self consciousness he may have felt simply fade away under that hungry desperation you had for him.

He wanted to repay the favour, make you feel exactly as you’d made him feel. He could kiss you, touch you, compliment you as much as he could and sure that would more than likely be enough to make you reach that level of high he was currently on, but there was one other way he could think off to give back to you, to make you feel good, the only problem was, he'd never done it before.

"I want to taste you..." Brian began, his voice breathlessly hot against your kiss swollen lips as he lay above you on the couch, his body between your legs which wrapped tightly around his. "All of you... But I-I've never actually- I've never-"

"Gone down on a woman before?" You finished for him, watching as he flushed pink with embarrassment, more pink than he was from the mere hotness between you both. He nodded his head as you cupped his face, trailing your thumb over his equally kiss swollen lips, staring deep into his eyes and seeing the worry that rested behind the desire.

You didn't care that he was inexperienced, You actually found it to be quite a turn on and actually it didn't seem all that accurate given how he could make you feel. But to hear that he'd never tasted a woman before, that you would be his first and that he wanted you to be his first, well that was enough to make you weaker at the knees than you’d ever felt before.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." You whispered in assurance, running your thumb across his bottom lip.

"I do want to, God, I want to... I want to make you feel good."

"You're already doing that." You replied softly, trailing your hands up his muscular back to grip his shoulders whilst at the same time lifting your hips up from the couch, desperate to feel some kind of friction between your legs. "But if you want to try it... You can... Just don't think about it too much… Let your tongue do all the work."

The corners of Brian's lips rose a little as he leaned down brushing his lips lightly over yours before planting them firmly against them. The kiss was hot and heavy, the two of you all but devouring each other. Starving. Hungry. Begging for air yet never wanting to break apart.

Brian leaned his body deeper against you, the open fly on his jeans brushing lightly across you in a way that made your hips jerk beneath him and had you moan into his mouth in a way that gave him all the courage he needed to move things further south.

Trailing hot and fiery kisses across your jawline and down your neck, his mouth close enough to your body that he could feel the goosebumps he caused you against his tongue, he moved slowly downwards, lips brushing lightly over your breasts, making a sweet sounding gasp escape your lips.

"Keep going." You panted softly, glancing down at him just long enough to see him place one last kiss against each of your nipples before trailing his tongue down your stomach, his teeth grazing lightly over your hip bones, making them twitch just a little beneath him.

So much for being inexperienced, the man was practically an expert.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?” Brian whispered, pacing firm yet sweet kisses along your inner thigh, allowing you to feel his facial hair against your skin. “I want to make you feel as good as possible.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded, already feeling out of breath and he hadn’t even started yet.

It's safe to say that the second Brian's tongue started lapping against the throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs, you were already a whining, shaking mess beneath him. Your body was sweating making you thankful for the blanket you’d laid out beneath you otherwise it wouldn't have been fun pulling yourself off your leather couch after you'd stuck to it.

Fingers gripping his dark curls, your back arched as soft, whimpering pants left your lips each time you felt the roughness of Brian's moustache against your sensitive skin. Each flick of his tongue as he devoured you like the hungriest of men, afraid that you’d be taken away from him and that every single second counted. Which for him it did as he didn’t want there to be a single moment where you weren’t feeling anything but pleasure.

"Fuck..." Your breathy moan as your body practically quivered was enough to make Brian smile against you, something you felt and something that only added to the pleasure in which you felt course through your body. “God… That feels so fucking good.”

He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head with each rhythmic motion of his tongue, your teeth biting hard against your lip that he was surprised you hadn't drawn blood yet. Even the pressure in which his fingers were digging into your thighs, holding you tight against him was enough to almost push you over the edge into complete and utter bliss.

“Fuck… Brian, fuck...” You gasped, gripping his hair tighter as he only started moving faster, swapping between flicking furiously against your swollen clit with his tongue and sucking eagerly on it. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The lack of stopping from Brian made it clear to you that he wanted you to come while he was down there and the second your back began to arch off the couch as you were hit with that intense rush of pleasure, his tongue fell downwards, pushing through your soaking slit, wanting to taste the way you came. Or rather the way he’d made you come. His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing fast, yet gentle, circles against it in order to prolong your orgasm for as long as possible.

Your head grew fuzzy, your eyes clouding over as all you could do was moan his name in between whimpers as he continued to prolong your orgasm, the best orgasm you’d ever felt in your entire life. You couldn’t believe he’d never done this before, especially not since your body was practically levitating off the couch before you slowly fell back down, deep, ragged breaths escaping your lips as Brian pulled back, leaving you a literal mess below him.

He towered over you, his lips and facial hair glistening with both your arousal and your release. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, feeling your chest rising rapidly beneath him with each stuttered breath you took as you tried to regain some clarity. In that moment, as you came down from the high he couldn’t quite believe he’d brought you to, it was safe to say he’d never seen anything more attractive and in all honesty, he couldn’t wait to feel you again.

“Was that…”

“Incredible? Unlike anything I’d ever felt before? You’re damn right it was… ” You exhaled, watching as he smiled softly to himself before you continued. “Inexperienced you say?” A short, breathy chuckle followed suit as you raised your eyebrow towards him.

"Beginners luck, I guess." Brian shrugged lightly before you pulled him towards you, taking his lips in yours and humming softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

"It better not be." You whispered against his lips, placing another equally hungry kiss against them. "Because baby, you're doing that more often."

Prompt List

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[coolbeans32]

Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader(OC)

SYNOPSIS: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are unexpectedly drawn into a mysterious journey when they receive Albus Dumbledore's last will and testament. Minister Rufus Scrimgeour presents them with significant bequests, including a scrapbook holding the secrets of Dumbledore's past. Through poignant confessions, they learn of Dumbledore's secret marriage to Gellert Grindelwald and the tragic fate of their daughter. Delving into the scrapbook, they uncover a surprising connection between Dumbledore's daughter and Tom Riddle. Dumbledore's final message reveals that his daughter, Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald, is alive, propelling the trio into a quest to find her and untangle the mysteries of Dumbledore's past. As they embark on this journey, they realize the profound interconnection of their destinies with those of their predecessors, emphasizing the enduring power of love and loss even in the darkest of times.

WARNINGS: This passage contains elements of death, grief, and loss. Specifically, it mentions the tragic death of Dumbledore's daughter, as well as themes of war and the impact of past actions on loved ones.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter One

The Scrapbook

“To what do we owe the pleasure Minister?” Harry asks.

“I think we both know the answer to that question, Mr. Potter.” His voice is deep and sure as he speaks. Rufus Scrimgeour leads them to the living room and Harry, Hermione, and Ron sit down in front of him as he lays down a cloth wrap.

“And this is?...”Harry states with a confused look on his face. The Minister then pulls out a piece of paper before making it float in front of him so he can read it.

"Herein is said forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. First, to Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator. A device of my own making. In hope when things seem most dark it will show you the light."

"Dumbledore left this for me?" Ron says taking the small black item out of its cover.

"Yes," the Minister says. Ron looks at it in wonder.

"Really. What is it?" He asks and clicks it open. It takes the lights and when clicked back open it puts them back. "Super."

"To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard in the hope that she finds it entertaining and instructive," He says handing her a book. She looks at it confused.

"Mom used to tell me those. The wizard and the hopping pot, Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump Come on. Babbity Rabbity... No?" Ron says as we all look at him confused.

"To Harry James Potter, I leave the snitch he caught in his first match at Hogwarts. As a reminder of rewards of perseverance and skill," He says and holds out the golden snitch. Harry looks a bit defeated as does the Minister.

"Is that it then?" Harry asks and the Minister shakes his head.

"Not quite. Dumbledore left you a second bequest: The sword of Godric Gryffindor. Unfortunately the sword of Gryffindor was not Dumbledore's to give away. As an important historical artifact it belongs.." He says.

"...to Harry. It belongs to Harry. It came to him when he most needed it in the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione cuts him up. The minister shakes his head.

"The sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor, Miss Granger but that does not make it that wizard's property," He says. "Unfortunately the current whereabouts of the sword are unknown."

"Excuse me?" Harry says. We both look at each other and he looks worried.

"The Sword is Missing. I don't know what you are up to, Mr. Potter but you can't fight this war on your own. He is too strong," The Minister says. Harry, Hermione, and Ron give each other a glance as the Minister stands up.

 “One last thing is left. To Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger  and Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave this scrapbook, an artifact very dear to my heart, in hopes to give you an insight of not only my life but to help you with your next steps necessary towards victory.” Hermione moves forward to grab the elegant scrapbook, looking more like an album, with its intricate black cover and dark emerald green ribbon on the front. The three of them looked really confused. With that, the Minister left, not before saying,

“Best of luck Mr. Potter, you will need it.”

The trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, sit in a circle around the living room, still puzzled by the words of Dumbledore, the Minister, and the scrapbook they had received. Hermione carefully inspects the runes on the cover, her brow furrowed in concentration. She noticed that as she tried to open the book, there was a presence of magic around it. With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation that effortlessly flowed from her mind, the invisible lock clicks open the book. The three all glance at each other with curiosity. They eagerly flip through the pages, revealing the surprising images within.

Harry peers over Hermione's shoulder, “What do you see, Hermione?”

Hermione gasps softly, “ It's... it's a baby. But... wait, something's changing.”

Ron interrupts, “Changing? What do you mean by changing?”Hermione turns the page, and they watch as the baby's features morph into those of a young girl. “She's... she's growing older right before our eyes.”

Ron exclaims, “That's... that's incredible!”

They continue to flip through the pages, each image revealing a different moment in time. Suddenly, they come across a picture of a much younger Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.Harry says, “That’s  Dumbledore…”

Hermione turns the page again, and they see a young Gellert Grindelwald standing beside Dumbledore, their faces alight with excitement, and happiness. “It's them... when they were friends…no, wait…Do you think they were more than just friends?”

Ron replies with furrowed eyebrows, “There’s no bloody way that they could’ve been together Mione. It’s a bit hard to believe, I mean, Grindelwald was an evil wizard.” The trio falls silent as they continue to explore the scrapbook, each lost in their own thoughts, revealing images of the girl with both Albus and Gellert. Then, Hermione gasps once more, her eyes widening in surprise, as she changes the page once more.

“Look at this!” Hermione exclaims to Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron lean in to see what has caught Hermione's attention. They see the teenage girl, dressed in Slytherin robes, dancing with a young Tom Riddle.

Harry says flabbergasted and angrily, “Tom Riddle? What's he doing here?”

Hermione replies, also in an extremely surprised state, still trying to process what was in front of her, “I'm not sure, but... it looks like they're... dancing?

Ron says, “Well…quite the surprise there huh?”

Harry replies coldly, “Yeah, to say the least.” They exchange puzzled glances before turning their attention back to the scrapbook, eager to uncover more secrets hidden within its pages.

Hermione turned a couple of more pages, each with more images of the lovely young couple, until writing appeared over the next blank page. The words that appeared in front of the trio were of Dumbledore. The three read his note:

I see you have received the scrapbook I left for you. The contents of this book have much you need to know about my past, my secrets, the loves and losses that shaped my life. I was not always the wise old wizard you see before you. There was a time when I was young, foolish, and in love. I was in love with Gellert Grindelwald. He was many things. He was also brilliant, charismatic, and enchanting. We shared a bond that transcended mere friendship. We even married in secret, during a time of great turmoil. But our love was not to last. We had a child conceived by a surrogate, and bore a daughter. She was our greatest joy and our deepest sorrow. She bore the weight of our mistakes and our regrets. She was a Slytherin. She was brilliant, ambitious, and fiercely loyal. But she was also troubled, haunted by the shadows of our past. It wasn’t until she fell in love with Tom Riddle, the boy who would become Voldemort, that she found her way to regain a part of her that was lost because of me and Gellert. Their romance was nothing that I would have anticipated. I couldn’t bear to see her with a boy as troubled as her, but they prevailed. I thought he would corrupt her. She died on May 13, 1943. A casualty of a war she never chose to fight. A victim of a destiny she could not escape. A casualty by my own hand. I have learned that love is both a gift and a burden. It has the power to lift us up to the highest heights and drag us down to the darkest depths. But in the end, it is what defines us, what binds us together, even in death.

Silence descends upon the room, broken only by the soft rustle of pages as the trio processes Dumbledore's revelations, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to grapple with the weight of his confessions.

Ron spoke first, trying to relieve the tension, “Well, uhm…who would’ve thought that Dumbledore’s daughter would be the one to make Riddle’s heart go soft?”

Hermione whacked his arm with a paper repeatedly and yelled, “Oh Ronald Weasley! This is not the time for your stupid jokes, this is serious.”

Ron replied, trying to dodge her blows, “Bloody hell woman, that hurts!” 

Harry pondered on his thoughts as Hermione and Ron were arguing. There was no way that Tom Riddle could ever love someone, there was just no way. It was truly hard for Harry to believe that the Tom Riddle-Lord Voldemort-himself was ever in love, or had a heart. Harry spoke up and exclaimed exasperatedly, “I still don’t get it. How is any of this supposed to help us? I mean even if Riddle loved Dumbledore’s daughter, she’s dead. This was just a waste.”

Just as Harry had finished his sentence, the note disappeared, and more writing came up. Hermione moved towards the book and read the writing out loud:

My daughter, while she supposedly died…I have to mention that nothing is as true as it seems. I had to protect her, or so I thought. My actions, while they may seem extreme, were important to me years ago. Now that I realize that I may have been wrong…In fact…I had taken all necessary precautions…She is…alive. The images within this scrapbook are all clues that will help you find her. They all have meaning and are small parts to the larger puzzle. I had to make sure that this scrapbook was in the right hands. Best of luck Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger…I will leave you with your first direct clue…her name is…Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore-Grindelwald. 

Tom Riddle Masterlist

© coolbeans32 2024

[griffonsgrove]

~~ Welcome to my Blog ! ~~

Ello! I’m Night!! I’m new to the whole Tumblr writing blog, but I made this account to get out any ideas or drabbles that I may have during fandom brain rot (which I frequently have) and to also help enhance my writing ability!

First and foremost, I am an artist, so I may draw little doodles to go with certain head canons, drabbles or one shots! it helps me to visualize the story more!

So without further ado, let me tell you what i’m interested in!!

FANDOMS I’LL WRITE FOR : 

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

(Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss)

Alastor

Vox

Valentino

Angel Dust

Husk

Sir Pentious

Lucifer

Stolas

Mammon

Asmodeus/Fizzaroli

Blitz

Striker

Loona

(Creepypasta)

 Slenderman

Trenderman

Eyeless Jack

Zalgo

Jeff the Killer

Ben Drowned

Splendorman

Offenderman

Masky (Tim)

Hoodie (Brian)

Laughing Jack

Jane the Killer

(Gravity Falls)

Bill Cipher

Stanford Pines

Stanley Pines

(Slashers) 

Ghostface (Billy and Stu)

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Freddy Kruger

Jason Vorhees

Yautja (The Predator)

Pennywise

Art the Clown

Micheal Myers

RZ!Micheal Myers

Brahms Heelshire

(Across The Spider-Verse)

Miguel O’Hara

Hobie Brown

Peter B. Parker

The Spot

(Villainous)

Black Hat

Dr. Flug

Demencia 

5.0.5 (Platonic)

Penumbra

(Stranger Things)

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Jim Hopper

Billy Hargrove

Johnathan Byers

What I Will Write: 

Headcanons

One-shots

Drabbles

Smut/Nsfw

Platonic Relationships

Self-Insert/OC’s

Moderate gore/Body Horror

X readers

(Ask about kinks and fetishes)

What I Will Not Write: 

absolutely NO minor x adult relationships (unless they’re strictly platonic)

I typically won’t do Canon Character x Canon Character ships, just because I’ve never really done so! Idk if i’d be good at it

I probably have more to add to this list, but i’ll add to it later on

Now that, that’s outta the way! I'm opening writing requests!! Please feel free to send in any type of request you’d want to see done, into my inbox!

Currently since I'm out of college for the summer, I have a lot of free time to explore and pump out new work! As I’ve said before, I really want to try and enhance my writing ability so that it can be better for the future!

So i’d really appreciate this post being shared or just you guys sending in a small request, or drabble idea to get me started! I’m really excited to get started on this page and explore further, Until then have a great day! <333

[the-s1lly-corner]

ATTENTION CREEPYPASTA FANS

hiiiiii i kinda wanna write some hcs/self insert stuff but im kinda stumped on who and what to write; especially since its been a while since ive written for these characters (a while = about a month?? give or take)

so! i'll be opening requests for creepypasta characters, a 'short' run down of my rules below + characters i write for + some info regarding how i write certain characters that may or may not be important

i apologize for any typos and mistakes for this post, im back to writing on my silly computer!! formatting may be a little whack as well, but that parts more so because idk how i wanna structure these side posts

it should be said right now that the way i write these characters leans very heavy on my own personal interpretation/au rather than ideas that the bulk of the fandom has (although, to be fair, i havent interacted much with the current state of the fandom, im kinda stuck in 2016 </3) so personalities or worldbuilding/common ideas may be different or totally absent in my writing

will not write;

this blog does not allow explicit nsfw material, at most there will be suggestive jokes or themes but it will likely never ever be the main theme of the post!

basic nono criteria, no gross stuff

personally i dont like writing prompts surrounded by cheating so most likely i wont write it

anything overly graphic (gorey), yes i understand that this is creepypasta but there are some things that i just simply wont write; however implied/minor gore is allowed to an extent

really asides from that im mostly chill with anything, but on the off chance you send in something that makes me uncomfy/a request i feel i cant fulfill, i will do my best to communicate that

ohoh also! unfortunately i do not take oc requests :(! no hate to oc x canon, esp since im part of that community, but i just dont trust myself to be able to do justice or your oc TToTT

if i turn down a request it is nothing against you or your wants, please do not take it personally ^^;

will write;

fluff and angst, along with specific scenarios! im fine with most angst but as said above, if a prompt cannot be done i will communicate that!

the reader by default is GN/is not referred to with pronouns outside of like. they/you/your, the POV i write in is kinda inconsistent tbh ,, but i am comfy with writing for specific genders + trans readers, although i admit im not sure how much pronouns or gendered things will come into play unless gender is the main point of the request

im fine with poly! though ive yet to actually. write poly

i dont just write romantic hcs! im down with platonic/familial ones as well!

again im not at all picky with things, and once again, i will communicate if something cant be done

added thing since im not sure where else to put it! by default i write short hcs and scenarios, short fics being very rare on this acc since im not confident in my writing; so !! yeah!! there isnt a real limit to how many characters you can ask for per request but it should be noted that the more characters there are, the shorter each section will likely be

list of characters i will write for!

if a character has a * by their name there will be added notes on how i write for them/special rules stated after the list

Slenderman

Trenderman

Splendorman

Masky/Tim*

Hoodie/Brian*

Laughing Jack

Eyeless Jack

Ticci Toby**

Jeff*

Jane*

Ben*

Nina*

Puppeteer*

Bloody Painter*

Zalgo*(?)

added character notes:

for characters that are minors in their source (jeff, jane, ben, and toby and nina) i will not be writing any romantic hcs; thats just a personal boundary of mine and while i dont think its particually gross or problematic depending on context, its not something i myself feel comfortable writing for! however i am more than willing to write platonic or family hcs for the characters stated above!

onto the proxies! im still figuring out how i wanna write them but i wanted to blend together the creepypasta take and the og marble hornets version into something new (mostly for my au) however due to my brain forgetting most the stuff that happens in MH (i gotta rewatch it, bad) it more so leans into the creepypasta take of these characters! i also by default write tim and masky as different characters, and the same for brian !!

main reason for puppeteer and bloody painter having the star is because im not too well versed in their lore but im willing to write them! though i am struggling to find a consistent source on helens age so ill be going off the fandom wiki (with a grain of salt) that hes in his 20s-

zalgo is a weird case because in my au he does indeed exist but also isnt?? okay so hes more so this untouchable being/mostly nontangible; like the dude is more so like a sentient force of nature bordering on something incomprehensible rather than being a person; more of a concept if anything... but because i want a challenge, and because i need to flesh him out in general im making him an available character!

but yeah i think thats mostly it! this post ended up being longer than i intended but i fully blame that on me being totally incapable of shortening things down 😭😭

[rip-vanwinkle]

introduction/refresh

hi, i’m K! i’m turning my blog into a creepypasta thirst hub… which means i will be writing! i may also occasionally post art… we’ll see. i’ve been in the fandom for the better part of a decade (i’m old </3)

i’m currently taking requests as i am new and trying to get this up and running! :) these can be headcanons, drabbles, art, playlists, whatever

forgive any weird censoring, i want this post to actually be visible lol

subjects(?) i will write:

character x character

character x reader

smut (within reason; please don’t send me your piss kinks)

etc, etc? just normal things i suppose

subjects i will NOT write:

like i said earlier any absolutely foul kinks

*ncest

self-deletion

self-h*rm

anything non consensual (dub con is a fine line so that will vary)

parent pasta x child reader

—— list under construction ——

characters i will write:

jeff the killer

ben drowned

eyeless jack

laughing jack

ticci toby

masky/tim

hoodie/brian

slenderman

& probably some others i’m forgetting, it’s been a while

characters i will NOT write:

- sally

- jason the toymaker

- bloody painter

- clockwork

i don’t have an extensive list as i tend to not remember their names, but if you happen to send a request that i’m not comfortable with i will let you know privately <3

this also goes for if i’m not entirely familiar with a character, but i may give it a shot

[jungle-angel]

“Honey We’re Shrunk!”: Chapter 1 (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary:  Royal was right, there was something weird about that hole in the west pasture. So what happens when Rhett, (Y/n), Amy and their kids wake up one morning and find that they’re only as big as a flea? Shit’s bound to ensue somewhere.

Tagging: @sebsxphia​ and if anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know

Wabang, WY

May 30, 2023

“Oh c’mon you fuckin piece o’shit,” Rhett growled under his breath as he fiddled with the truck engine. 

His phone suddenly started ringing, startling him before Rhett knocked his head on the rim of the hood, drawing a loud yelp from his mouth. Cursing the truck under his breath, he hit pause on the currently playing song before answering the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi yes, is this Mr. Abbott?” the woman on the other end asked. 

“Yes this is Rhett.” 

“This is Indira Singh, Amy’s teacher,” the woman replied. “Would you mind coming down to the school? I believe your brother tried to pick Amy up after school hours.” 

“I’ll be right down,” Rhett answered before hanging up. 

He was lucky he hadn’t thrown the phone halfway across the garage. He may not have been Amy’s biological father but she was still part of his family.....his daughter regardless. 

Rhett quickly threw his shirt back on and hurried out to Royal’s truck, just as Royal was coming down the driveway. “You good boy?” Royal asked. 

“Gotta go dad,” Rhett answered tersely. “I’m fuckin pissed.” 

“The fuck happened now?” Royal enquired. “Trevor run through (y/n)’s rose-beds?” 

“Perry tried to get Amy from school.” 

Royal’s eyes went wide as Rhett hurriedly started the truck and practically zoomed out of the driveway, the furious cloud of dirt trailing behind him before Royal loped off to the pasture. 

Amelia County Steiner School

2:50 pm

The classroom was full of the usual organized chaos surrounding the afternoon dismissal  and the last day of school as your eighth graders put up their chairs onto their desks, the clack of the wood marrying together with the chatter of the students as they gathered up their backpacks and bid you farewell for the day.

As soon as the last student had left, you opened up your bag, suddenly seeing a text message appear on your screen from your husband. 

Rhett: I’m downstairs with Amy’s teacher.....Perry tried to pick her up.

You: WHAT THE FUCK??!!!

You felt your face going hot and a bloom of fear in your chest as you quickly gathered your bag and shut the door to your classroom behind you, hurrying down the stairs to the school lobby where Rhett was standing with Amy, her teacher and two other members of the school administration. 

“I was about to message you and tell you to come down,” Brian O’Donnell told you. 

“Well, my husband beat me to the punch,” you quipped. “What happened?” 

“I caught Perry trying to pick her up and sneak her out of the school,” Mrs. Singh explained. “Brian heard her screaming in the halls and stopped him.” 

“Did the cops get called?” 

“Joy said she’s gonna try and track him down,” Brian explained. “Other than that, nothing major happened.” 

“Thank God,” Rhett sighed, full of relief. “Listen guys, thank you for your help. It’s always appreciated.” 

You and Rhett thanked the teachers, Rhett promising that he’d have a few fresh bales of hay to give Indira’s husband for their horses the next time they crossed paths. You both walked with Amy to go scoop up Hannah in her first grade classroom and then up the beaten dirt path to the kindergarten building where Tatum and Tanner spent their days during the school year. 

“Alright ghouls, everybody in,” Rhett told them as he buckled Tatum and Tanner into their seats. 

As soon as you had all shoved into the truck, you were off and headed for home, eager to get there, but also dreading what you would find when you got there. The six of you drove in near silence back to the house, hardly saying a word, while Tatum and Tanner had already fallen asleep. Rhett put his arm around you and drew you a little bit closer as the town of Wabang began to turn flatter and more rural. Within a half hour, you were home, the big house on the Abbott ranch pulling right into view. 

Cecelia came right down the path, squinting in the late afternoon sun as she came to help you get the kids out of the truck. You didn’t even need to ask about what was going on. All too often in the past when she came down the path from the house, did you know what it meant. 

“All good Ma?” Rhett asked. 

“No, your dad’s absolutely rip-shit right now,” she sighed. “He’s gonna tear Perry a new one if he comes around and I don’t want the kids around for it.” 

Rhett nodded, knowing what a toll this had taken on his mother for the last eight years. Ever since you and Rhett had taken full custody of Amy when she was a baby, Perry had been relentless. You were surprised that Royal hadn’t had a heart attack yet, coming home from a doctor’s visit with a note to try and find a way to lower his blood pressure. 

You and Rhett helped to offload the kids while Cecelia and Winona Redwood, one of her closest friends, came to take them on a trail walk, hoping it would tire them out and keep them out of the house for a while. As much as you wanted to go back into town, you knew you had to get dinner ready and feed the family later. Rhett had to finish helping Royal fix the west pasture fence, but thank God the school year was over and the lighter workload could begin. 

Gonna be a long day.....Rhett thought to himself. 

West Pasture 

Abbott Land

7:30pm

“Alright, looks like we’re good for the night,” Royal concluded, clipping the last wire on the fence. 

Rhett didn’t say a word, but only nodded at his father. 

Royal sighed. “Bud, listen....” 

“Dad it’s fine,” Rhett told him. “They caught him before he could get Amy out the door.” 

Royal felt awful. It still troubled him to think that Perry was coming after you and Rhett for taking Amy, going to whatever lengths he felt was necessary to irk the hell out of the two of you. “If he ever comes around here,” Royal told him. “I’ll try and chase him into the bullpen for you.” 

Rhett and Royal shared a good laugh about the matter, musing on all the cruel and unusual punishments they could possibly dole out to Perry if he ever showed his face on the Abbott land ever again. 

All of a sudden the horses began to snort, neigh and rear on their hind legs while the tiniest hint of a shudder rippled the ground beneath Rhett and Royal’s feet. They shot each other a quizzical look before venturing a little bit further off. The horses had completely moved to the other end of the field, a few of the foals skittering towards their mothers or their sires while Rhett’s big Kiger Mustang tossed his head and and snorted. There it was, the one thing he and Royal had been terrified to see. Their hearts were close to beating out of their chests, their palms growing clammy and the hairs standing straight up on the backs of their necks.

The hole. 

“Holy fuck,” Rhett said breathlessly. 

“I can’t believe that fuckin thing’s back,” Royal hissed. 

The two of them crept closer to the hole, the goosebumps on their bodies going absolutely crazy. It was as though they could hear a beast within with loud, whale-like moans ready to emerge from the terrifying maw that had opened right up in the ground.

Rhett and Royal slowly backed away and once their backs were turned, the broke into a run, heading straight from the pasture to the house, never really minding the horses. They skipped a few steps coming up the porch before they slammed the door shut behind them. 

“You ok?” Royal asked.

No answer. Only the few silent breaths and the rise and fall of Rhett’s chest. 

“Rhett?” 

“Huh? Yeah,” Rhett answered suddenly. “Yeah I’m good.....I’m good.” 

“Go on up to bed,” Royal told him. “(Y/n)’s probably waiting for you.” 

Rhett forced himself up the stairs, trying to keep the thought of you in the back of his mind, but all that seemed to pop in was the hole, that infernal drop into nothingness that made him shudder and the fear in him stir. 

He entered your shared bedroom and kicked off his boots, hanging his hat on the bedpost and pulling off his shirt before throwing it into the wicker hamper next to the computer desk. The coolness from the mini-splits on the wall hit his sweaty skin as he crawled under the thin blanket on his side of the bed, his arm snaking right around you as the last shreds of sunlight darkened the room. 

“Babes?” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” 

“You still awake?” 

You rolled over and kissed his lips, happy to have him in bed next to you. “Just waiting for you,” you said sleepily. 

Rhett pulled you in closer before you began littering his face with kisses, your fingertips running over his nips that hardened from the cool air and your gentle little touches. 

“Wanna get outta here,” Rhett mumbled as he settled in, burying his face in your neck. “Wanna take the kids and go to Bozeman already.” 

You kissed his lips again. “We will,” you assured him. “Soon enough.” 

“Wish I was the size of a flea,” Rhett mumbled again. “Give the shithead an itch so bad he’ll think it’s chicken pox.” 

You laughed a little, pressing yourself closer to Rhett as you stroked the back of his neck, your fingers tangling a little in the curls that were forming. You lived for moments like this, when it was just the two of you, side by side without a worry in the world.

***************

In the dead of night, beneath the full moon, the ground around the hole rippled like the water after a pebble had been tossed in its midst. The horses neighed as they moved away, a blueish-white dust emerging from the hole and rolling across the land like a mist towards the house. The dust snaked its way through the windows and curled around the beds of the six sleeping Abbotts, working its magic until it disappeared into thin air. 

[bijouxcarys]

Current WIPs (Works In Progress)

To Love So Completely Chapter 4

Got My Timing Right (Book 3 of my Brian May series)

Spotlight (80s Robert Plant one shot)

Anon Robert request

Allure pt. 2 (Brian May x reader)

Honey Bee pt. 3 (Robert Plant x reader x Jimmy Page x original female character) considering editing it and posting it as one fic

Herbal Clouds (1969 Brian May one shot)

My brain.

[tastydregs]

Google Makes Progress on Scaling Quantum Error Correction

Google has a quantum computing goal of encoding a logical qubit on 1000 physical ones with an error rate of 0.0001% and they have achieved a 3% error rate using 17 qubits. The scaling or error reduction must be 20 times better.

Using a 72-qubit chip, the Google team encoded a single logical qubit in two ways—in either a grid of 17 qubits (nine data and eight ancillary qubits) or 49 qubits (25 data and 24 ancillary qubits). Researchers put each grid through 25 cycles of measurements, looking for flipped qubits. Instead of correcting them, researchers just kept track of them, which sufficed for the experiment, says Julian Kelly, a physicist and director of quantum hardware at Google.

After the 25 cycles, they measured the data qubits directly to see whether the ancillary qubits tracked all the flips or more had sneaked in, meaning the machine lost track of the logical qubit. Over many trials, the probability per cycle of losing the logical qubit was 3.028% with the smaller grid and 2.914% with the bigger one, the team reports today in Nature. Thus, the error rate shrank as the number of physical qubits increased—although just barely.

Nature – Suppressing quantum errors by scaling a surface code logical qubit.

Other Work on Scaling Quantum Error Correction

Quantinuum has performed an experiment in which the logical qubit is more robust than the underlying physical ones, using ion qubits. Physicists at Yale University have done the same in an experiment that mixes superconducting qubits and photons. Ion systems may or may not scale as easily as superconducting qubits.

On August 3, 2022, Quantinuum researchers have hit a significant milestone by entangling logical qubits in a fault-tolerant circuit using real-time quantum error correction. The research, published in a new scientific paper that was released on August 3rd, is the first experimental comparison study of different quantum error correction codes in similar environments and presents a collection of several different experiments. These experiments include:

1. The first demonstration of entangling gates between two logical qubits done in a fully fault-tolerant manner using real-time error correction 2. The first demonstration of a logical entangling circuit that has higher fidelity than the corresponding physical circuit.

Quantinuum used a color code. The researchers combined seven logical qubits into one logical qubit in coordination with 2-3 ancillary qubits used for probing. They implemented this new color code technique on top of Quantinuum’s latest computer with 20 physical qubits to create two reliable logical qubits. These new logical qubits can be efficiently scaled in a way that increases fault tolerance that was not practical with the physical qubits or even the 5-qubit approach.

The highest fidelity operations with the color code, with the fault-tolerant SPAM operation achieving fidelities of 0.99939 and 0.99959 when preparing eigenstates of the logical X and Z operators, which is higher than the average physical qubit SPAM fidelities of 0.9968.

NOTE: practical error correct quantum computers need to look at the errors in the worst pairings of qubits in a larger number of qubits. Achieving really good results for the first two qubits does not matter if more heat and other issues cause increasing errors as the system degrades.

Brian Wang is a Futurist Thought Leader and a popular Science blogger with 1 million readers per month. His blog Nextbigfuture.com is ranked #1 Science News Blog. It covers many disruptive technology and trends including Space, Robotics, Artificial Intelligence, Medicine, Anti-aging Biotechnology, and Nanotechnology.

Known for identifying cutting edge technologies, he is currently a Co-Founder of a startup and fundraiser for high potential early-stage companies. He is the Head of Research for Allocations for deep technology investments and an Angel Investor at Space Angels.

A frequent speaker at corporations, he has been a TEDx speaker, a Singularity University speaker and guest at numerous interviews for radio and podcasts.  He is open to public speaking and advising engagements.

[ursoself-satisfying]

Brian May takes a lot of photos n its gr8

omgomg I just thought of something n not to be a whole ass ho here but it's cute as FUCK heres some hardcore current Brian may feels for u

So Brian's on Instagram a lot right?? Well just imagine his social media when ur together,,, hes always posting lil things u do cus ur relationship is so new n hes so enthralled w everything about u it's the honeymoon phase n he loves it n his feed for a while is almost all u,, every other post is something to do w u it's about u teaching him to do things or him teaching u things n taking each other places n him being excited about it all

Then its sweet things like little thoughts he has about u n pics of u in the morning or stereos he takes of u when ur out in the garden n the sun is hazy n soft on ur hair or it's a random picture of ur hand n just him saying something vague n a bit ridiculous the way he does,, it's not v often anything explicit or anything too private or lovey dovey no hes a respectable man n he likes to keep that to himself but every once in a while like on a birthday or holiday or anniversary is the like he posts a collection of photos of u most of which r silly n poorly framed but they're so genuine n candid n they're so full of love like it's just u at a cafe n theres nothing special about this date but he just thought u looked absolutely radiant n he insisted u let him take a photo of u n share ur beauty w the world

Whether ur an artist or not he also is ur number one hype man ok like anything u wanna do he 110% supports u n it can be overwhelming at times lol but it's all from love like if ur an artist hes constantly posting about ur latest work n sharing it w people n wanting u to get all the credit n attention he believes u deserve n hes just so proud!!!! Hes so happy ur successful n he wants to help u anyway he can!!!

Other things he posts would be like cheeky photos of gifts he gets u or things he surprises u w,, but mostly its things u do together places u go n see,, other times its u teaching him to knit n he takes a video of it or its him teaching u to chart stars n ur just so darn cute when ur focusing he cant help but wanna photograph u

Besides posting this stuff he also just loves to take pictures of u all the time, this is either just on his phone or whatever is close but he personally likes to use his stereo n this leads to all sorts of impromptu photo sessions of u in the garden or the kitchen n it's all v sweet n silly n domestic n u certainly dont mind being the center of attention or a muse but then sometimes it's a bit more private,, its pictures taken in the early morning when the suns just barely come up n ur still asleep n ur bare n shivering in the cold fresh air n he just loves how gentle n unassuming u look when ur asleep ur like a little angel on a cloud n he adores u n the soft rise n fall of ur chest n the little puffs of air that leave ur mouth when u snore lightly

Those r his fav pics, personally, the ones when ur so blissfully unaware of how gorgeous u r,, such unintentional ethereal beauty,, it just amazes him n leaves him breathless everytime n hes so in love n so soft for u n he keeps these pictures close to his heart his precious secret treasure he doesnt share w anyone

On the flip side theres also some saucy boudoir photos he takes when the two of u get hot n heavy n this collection is one he frequently revisits ;;)) its photos of u panting on top of him giving the camera a tired blissed out smile n then of u beneath him w ur lips in an 'o' shape n ur eyes rolling back n they're all a bit blurry,, then theres another of u posing for him w ur legs spread n showing off ur love for him n then u from behind w this mischievous look in ur eyes n then some w ur face buried in the sheets n drool pooling around ur cheeks,,

Theres some of him too from ur perspective,, him looking over u w his curls thrown back or him beneath u biting his lip n smiling shyly,, theres a few selfies w him thrusting into u from behind or some v soft post coital ones of u curled up on his chest n him sleeping soundly,, or some closer photos of his larger hand splayed out on ur ass or some fuzzy shots of u trying to get the hickies on ur neck,, theres some V nsfw ones as well w his face between ur legs or vice versa or hands cupping things or close ups of ur hips grining against his,,, he loves it all he loves every photo the two of u take together especially these n he saves them for the days hes away for work n misses u like no other

But wait!!! Then theres the VIDEOS cus ofc hes constantly taking soft videos of u either holding animals or gardening or cooking or just reading or sleeping or maybe playing music or he loves the one he has of u dancing uwu but theres also some of the two of u fucking def,,, he set up the camera one night so it could record the bed n u both agreed to this n were excited if not a bit nervous n u had to coax him down from feeling like he had to put on any show n just to focus on making love to u n he did just that n u def think something about the thought of being able to see this later or just the scandal of having a sex tape turned him on cus it was some of the best sex of ur life,, n he takes it w him when hes on tour n frequently watches it when hes alone lol sometimes not even to get off just to see u n hear u in this intimate n remember exactly how u sound, tho he knew he could never forget it

Speaking of when hes away on tour,, hes fond of receiving nudes but not so much sending (hes a bit insecure even tho u tell him all the time how gorgeous n sexy he is it's the age gap it gets to him) but every once in a while he sends a nice one of himself for u n u just adore it u treasure it n keep it close cus it's so rare n hes just such a GOD n u just love him sm,, but anyway not only do u send him plenty of teasing nudes when hes gone but sometimes when u kno hes going to be away for an especially long period of time u go get professional boudoir photos taken n u sneak them into his bag so he sees them when he lands n he just cannot even wait to use them hes already getting hard knowing what's sitting in his suitcase for him to unpack later,,, he also appreciates the effort u put into getting this photos done n that u take the time to make physical copies for the old man n his old fashioned ways (tho he cant say he wasnt jealous of the fact someone else got to take these photos even if he does love the surprise)

I think if he or when he figures out snapchat he would love it n it would be the primary way the two of u spoke during tours n such,, waking up to a good morning snap of him in bed n sending back an equally teasing one n that just keeps going thru the day n its quick n easy n it fulfills his need to see u

He still loves to look back thru his phone n look at all the pictures he has of u (in an organized folder u showed him how to make) not even the saucy ones mostly the soft ones the ones of u just living ur life in the most beautiful natural way it's the ones of u in ur pjs w a toothbrush in ur mouth or first thing in the morning w bags under ur eyes or midday of u on the couch half asleep w ur lunch sitting half eaten besides u n reruns on tv or u concentrating on something u love or u driving or sleeping or getting dressed or undressed just anything u do he loves (not in a creepy way rip) n that's the stuff he thinks about n looks at most frequently when hes away he still loves the NSFW stuff he rly rly does trust me but he loves u n all that u r on an everyday basis the most it's not just the sex or the sensual moments it's the love n the domesticity of it all

Anyway he loves to take photos of u n he loves seeing photos of u n receiving photos of u,, he doesn't like photos being taken of him as much but he does love when u take photos n he loves that u love to take photos n God just hes a sentimental old man who cherishes tangible memories n loves u n what more could u want ::""))

just, FUCK ,,Brian n taking photos of u ok that's all that's the post fuck fuck me up oof

DUDE I DIDNT EVEN RLY GET INTO THE IG PART OF IT like him trying to find a balance of posting about n then on top of that any drama that unfolds bc of that!!! Like u having to help him learn the intricacies of social media or people being awful bc ur so young n him just dealing w all that!!! Finding ways to ignore the bs n the rude comments n then ur own ig any drama that comes to u by way of him posting about u or just all that type of stuff!!!! That's a whole nother discussion!!!! But I adore it all the love the angst the soft feels!!!!! I just love him uwu

[warren-lauren]

Still Got It - Present Day!Brian May x younger!reader

Omg I am totally dying for a present day bri x reader fic! Haven’t seen one of those in awhile haha could you write a smut one where a way younger reader (like mid-late 20s) and bri have been casually hooking up and then bri suddenly feels self conscious about him being older and reader makes him feel better about it and then feels?

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Warnings: age gap, reader mid-20′s, dom!Brian, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it), cheating, self-doubt on Brian’s part

Still got it...

Being Queen + Adam's publicist, as well as the publicist for Brian and Roger's solo projects, meant you spent a lot of time around them. No one questioned your presence around them, even outside of touring. You became very close to the three of them, you were one of their close friends.

You were closest to Brian. The two of you were... intimate. There'd always been something there between the two of you. You didn’t mind his age, it only showed he was mature and a gentleman. You loved that he was kind, and caring to you, treated you like a 'little girl', that needing taking care of. Sometimes he treated you like a 'naughty girl' and gave you a spanking if he needed to.

"Is Brian in?" You smiled politely at the young girl behind the desk of the rescue centre.

She nodded. "He's in his office, Y/N, but he said not to be disturbed." She glanced over to the unusually shut door that leads to him. "He doesn't seem himself." She whispered as she leaned over the desk towards you.

You frowned, "What do you mean?"

She let out a little sigh as she glanced back over to the door. "He hasn't come out of his office all day. He's not even gone out to the hedgehogs."

"Oh," You looked over to the door. The blinds were pulled down, essentially blocking the world out. "Well, don't worry. He can't, not, talk to me." You gave her a sly smile.

The young girl grinned. "You always manage to put a smile on his face, Y/N."

Yes, I wonder why.

"Do you want coffee?"

You shook your head, "I'm good thank you." You smiled before heading over to Brian's office. You took a deep breath and slowly pushed his door open. "Bri?" You called out to him. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze finally landed on him.

Brian lifted his head, his eyes seeming to brighten ever so slightly as he looked at you. "Hello, love." He gave you a weak smile, taking his glasses off. "How are you?"

You shut the door behind you, then walked over to him. "I should be asking you. Tina says you're not yourself? Everything okay?"

"Fine." He huffed, dropping his gaze back to what was on his desk and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Your brow creased as you dropped your bag to the floor. "You don't seem fine."

"Well, I am."

You rolled your eyes, "No, you're being grumpy." You dropped into the seat opposite him. "What's going on with you? You're usually bright and cheerful."

"Everyone is allowed a day to be, grumpy, Y/N," Brian grumbled as he hunched forwards.

You studied him in silence for a few minutes, before you stood up and moved around his side of the desk and forced him to turn his chair around. You slipped your arm around his shoulders and sat on his knee.

"You're sad," You gently pulled his glasses off and put them on the desk before you brushed some of his curls back. "I can see it in your eyes, Brian, something is wrong."

He sighed and leaned into your touch as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "It's nothing, love, honestly."

You shook your head. "Bri, please tell me. Are you okay? Is it your leg again? Your heart?" You asked slightly panicked as you placed your hand on his forehead as if you'd work out what was wrong with him.

He huffed and grabbed your wrist. "No! It's none of that shit. I am, fine!" He glared up at you making you feel guilty for pestering him.

"Sorry." You mumbled and pushed yourself off his lap.

"Y/N," Brian leaned forwards, "M'sorry, baby girl, I didn't mean to snap at you." He took your hand and pulled you closer to him, pushing you gently until you perched yourself on the edge of his desk. "It's just..." He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm bloody old, Y/n."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm old." He sighed, "What on earth do you see in me?" He sat back in his seat and removed his hands from you. “I'm grey, wrinkly, fat, fragile, slow... almost triple your age." He shook his head and pushed himself away from you. "You shouldn't be wasting your time with an old fool like me. You should be off with someone your age, who can take you out and not keep you a secret. Who's not married-"

"Stop! Just, stop it, Brian!"

You dropped to your knees in front of him and covered his mouth with your hand, your other one rested on his shoulder.

"One, yes, you're older than me but you've never let that stand in your way of anything. You use your wisdom from the years of living your life to the fullest to teach others, including me, and Adam, and all your followers and fans. Two, your not wrinkly, just aged like a fine wine."

You smiled up at him softly as you removed your hand from his mouth and cupped his face. Brian smiled weakly, leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

"You're still as sexy, if not more so with your grey curls."

Brian scoffed, "If you say so." He smiled.

"I do, and you're nowhere near fat, so you can stop thinking like that and as for fragile... my arse, you are. And, tell me again you're slow when your slamming into my pussy," You whispered against his ear before moving and pressing a soft kiss to his lips that he thankfully returned. His hands slipped across your sides, giving you a soft squeeze. "And the married thing, I thought we both agreed we knew what we were getting into when we started this?"

Brian nodded, "You're right, I just... I don't want you getting hurt by any of this if, things go tits up."

"I'll be right there by your side if that's what you want. Any time you want this to end, you just say the word and I'll leave. Do you want me to?" You asked, feeling your heart practically bursting out your chest.

Brian shook his head and leaned forwards, pressing his lips against yours in a much harder kiss this time. "Please, don't leave me, baby girl. I need you." He whispered before kissing you again.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your tongue tangling with Brian's as the two of you deepened your kiss.

Brian was the first to pull back, the two of you taking in a deep breath. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

You nodded biting your bottom lip. "Back to mine? I have something to show you, actually." You grinned cheekily at him as you began to get up from where you knelled between his legs.

Brian nodded, "Sounds good, baby girl. I'll meet you there." He pressed one final kiss to your lips before he too got up from his seat.

The two of you left Brian's office, saying your goodbyes to one another before heading off in different directions.

You had a feeling you knew where Brian was going, most likely home to make his excuses for his absence for a few hours. You tried not to think about it, it made you sad.

A little guilty, sometimes but Brian assured you his marriage to Anita wasn't anything more than just on paper anymore. In all the years you've known Brian, you've never really spoken to Anita, even before you and Brian began being extra friendly with one another.

You'd spoken to Roger about it before, not giving too much away but you were sure Brian had informed his friend of your relationship because he knew Roger would never judge. He'd said himself it was like they were just housemates now, not like they were a married couple.

Once you had arrived home, you took a quick shower, mostly to soften your skin with some of the body lotions and oils Brian had given you. Before getting changed into your surprise for Brian. It was a baby pink silk slip that split up the sides until it came to your waist, where lace covers your breasts, showing your already pebbled nipples. It had a matching thong, that you knew Brian was going to love.

“Y/N?” Brian called out as he shut the door behind him and dropped his key onto the small table the door.

“In here, Bri!” You answered from your bedroom.

Brian quickly took off his coat and hung it up, before he kicked his shoes off and then made his way to you. “I got us a bottle of-” Brian froze, his mouth going dry as his gaze landed on you, knelt on the bedroom floor before him. “Jesus, Y/N, are you trying to give me another heart attack?” He grinned at you.

You bit your lip as you shook your head, giggling. “Of course not, sir.”

Brian let out a deep growl as he put the bottle of wine on top of the chest of draws before he walked towards you. “No, of course not.” He placed his hand on the back of your head gently. “I know what you want to give me.”

You nodded and reached up to unbuttoned his jeans. With his help, you dropped his jeans and his briefs to reveal his hard cock. You licked your lips at the magnificent sight before you. You didn’t care that Brian was in his seventies, he had a cock like the God he was.

“Can I taste you, sir? Please?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Brian nodded. His eyes fell shut as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving it a light squeeze before you leaned forwards and ran the tip of your tongue over the head of his cock.

“Oh, baby,” He breathed in deeply as you ran your tongue over his smooth skin slowly. “Oh, I’ve missed this.” He moaned as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “Please, baby, don’t tease me.”

You smiled up at Brian. You pressed a light kiss to the tip of his cock before wrapping your lips around it and giving it a firm suck before sinking down his hard length. You moaned around him, the taste one you easily became addicted to.

Slowly you bobbed your head, your lips tightening around his cock as you sucked. Your tongue running up and down on his underside before you pulled off his length and began to pump his cock using your saliva as lubricant.

“Is that good, sir?”

“Oh, God,” He moaned. “That’s it, baby girl.” He pushed your head back towards his cock. “Please, keep sucking baby girl. You’re so good with that pretty mouth,”

You grinned up at him before wrapping your lips around his cock again. You sped up, sucking his cock harder and twisting your hand around his shaft.

“Oh, fuck... baby,” Brian’s hips moved forwards, pushing his cock further into your mouth.

You moaned around him, sucking and slurping. You moved your hand from around Brian’s cock and cupped his balls, lightly squeezing them. You pulled off smiling up at him, “Please, sir, cum in my mouth. Let me taste you.” You begged.

Brian nodded as he pushed you back. He held your head in both hands and began pushing his cock in and out of your mouth. After a few more pumps he held your face close to him, his cock down your throat, and let out a deep growl as you swallowed around his cock.

“Fuck!” Brian growled as he came.

You pulled off Brian’s cock, gasping for air before licking your lips and looked up to him through your eyelashes.

Brian smiled, exhausted but happy as he held his hand out for you to take. He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you and pressed his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. His large hands squeezed your waist and hips.

“Let’s get a look at you then, love.” Brian grinned, pushing you back slightly. A low growl left his chest as his eyes drank you in. “Yep, definitely trying to give me a heart attack.” He chuckled lowly. “Get on the bed, baby girl. Spread your legs for me.” He winked at you.

You let out an excited giggle, doing as you had been told to.

Brian kicked his shorts off, along with the rest of his clothes. He licked his lips as he watched you spread your legs. Your tiny thong doing nothing to hide your wet pussy.

“Beautiful,” Brian whispered as he knelt between your legs, running his knuckles over your wet thong. He pushed the thong to the side and pushed two of his long fingers inside your dripping core, stretching you open. “So, warm and wet.” He moaned.

“Please, sir,” You moaned, “I need you.” You begged, your voice was breathy.

“Shh, baby, let me play with you first.” Brian lightly caressed your thigh as slowly pumped his fingers inside of you, twisting them before scissored his fingers. “Fuck.” He moaned, “I love this pussy.”

You cupped your breasts and rolled your nipples through the lace as Brian rubbed his thumb against your aching clit.

Brian grinned as he slowly pulled his fingers from inside you. You let out a deep moan as he lifted his fingers and put them into his mouth. “I can eat you all day, baby girl.” He winked as you before he leaned forwards. “Good girl,” Brian praised you as you opened your mouth for him to place his fingers in.

You moaned and sucked around his fingers.

“Get on your hands and knees, baby girl,” Brian ordered. You nodded eagerly and turned over, pushing yourself up so your backside was in the air.

You let out a loud cry of pleasure after Brian slapped his hand across your backside. Brian pushed the silk up until your backside was visible before pulling your thong down to the middle of your thigh.

“Are you going to fill me up, sir?” You wiggled your ass in the air for him.

Brian let out a short chuckle before slapping his hand across your cheeks once more. “Yes, baby, I am.” He said as he took a hold of his cock, frowning slightly. “Hmm, do you have-”

You picked the bottle of lube up from next to your pillow and looked at Brian over your shoulder. “Here,” You smiled softly, “It’s flavoured. In case you decided to have a taste after.” You winked teasingly at him making him chuckle.

“Thanks, baby girl.” He took the bottle from you and squeeze a generous amount onto his cock and began to slowly pump his cock, hissing at the feeling and the excitement of soon being engulfed by your heat. “Ready for me, baby?” Brian asked as he ran the tip of his rock through your folds.

You hummed, pushing back onto his cock. “Yes, sir.”

Brian moaned and slowly pushed into you, his hands sliding over your backside to rest on your hips. “Oh, fuck,” You moaned out along with Brian as his thick cock began to open you up. “So, good,” He breathed out as he bottomed out, his balls laying against your clit.

“Please, sir.” You begged.

Brian was usually a soft, caring lover unless you had been naughty and then he would fuck your brains, but tonight he had to prove to himself.

He quickly pulled out of you before slamming back into you, the head of his cock hitting your G-spot and causing you to cry out. He growled deeply as your pussy swallowed his cock, over and over. His hands tightened around you as he pulled you on and off his cock, his balls slapping against your clit, adding extra pressure and causing you to see stars.

“Oh, God. Fuck. Brian!” You cried, “Yes! Yes!”

“That’s it,” Brian hammered into you, slapping his hand against your cheek. “Fuck, baby... God!”

Breathy moans and cries of pleasure echoed around the room as Brian slammed into you. He reached over you and wrapped his hand around your throat, lifting you up until the two of you were pressed together. As he tightened his hold around your throat, Brian used his other hand to pull down the front of your slip, a slight tear here and there as he fought to get to your breasts.

He pressed his mouth against your neck, his breast fanning over your sweat-covered skin as he squeezed and pinched your breasts. “Fuck, baby girl, I can’t last much longer.” He heaved.

You shook your head, “Cum, Brian, please. Fill me up!” You begged. You turned your face towards him as you reached up and grabbed Brian’s face, crashing your lips against his.

Brian growled into your mouth as your pussy quivered around his cock. Brian gave one final, sharp thrust and came. His arms wrapped tightly around you as the two of you held onto one another.

As you pulled back from one another you could help let out a small giggle, “Told you, you’re not slow... sir,”

Brian chuckled, “No, I guess you’re right, but don’t be expecting that for a bloody while.” He kissed you once more.

Still got it...

[disasterdeacy]

Lavender Knots

A/N: somehow managed to get this up 4 hours before I said that I would! I’m gonna keep this AN short, but I do want to tell everyone that your recent love and support and messages have meant the world to me, and interacting with y’all has made me smile SO DAMN MUCH! Ilysm <3 Pairing: Present Day!Brian May x Young Reader Word Count: 17.7k (Its 40 pages on word lol how do you write small things?) Summary: The media is cruel, and while Y/N can deal with the pressures and nasty words, Brian doesn’t want her to have to... so, he decides to try and help her, by breaking up with her.  Warnings: A N G S T (soz), Fluff (i’m not a sadist), Smut (oh boy its nasty), Age Gap, mentions of mortality, mentions of suicidal thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it unless you’re tryna get Bri to give you a baby, in which case, you do you sis), Major FDA Violations.

Throwing down the copy of the daily mail onto your office desk with a huff, you slump in your seat, groaning and picking up your phone to see 2 text messages from Brian. What usually would’ve made your face light up with a smile makes you frown. Since the two of you had started dating 5 months previous, Brian had completely changed your life for the better. You’d practically moved in together after 2 months, not wanting to be apart for a single moment of the time that you had together. Your family and friends had accepted the relationship with mild confusion, but once they saw how much you smiled when Brian was beside you, they understood exactly how you both felt about one another and never said an ill word about the relationship. Surprisingly, Brian’s kids had been very supportive as well, they had been slightly off putting at first, but after an emergency grandkid sleepover, the 3 May children decided you were as incredible a person their father could find, welcoming into the May family with open arms. The media however... had been less than friendly. Which is why today’s Daily Mail article wasn’t exactly a surprise, yet still managed to burn a bit. No woman wants to be called, in not so harsh words, a gold digging whore, for holding her boyfriend’s hand. And based on the text messages that Brian had sent, he wasn’t taking it too well, asking if you would come to his place immediately after work. A nervous pit formed in your stomach upon receiving the message, and stayed there the remainder of the day until you arrived back at his home around 5.

“Bri? Love...” You sit your bag down, wringing your hands as you walk along the foyer, confusion etched on your face; usually Brian was waiting for you at the door.

 “In here, Y/N...” He calls from the living room. He was pacing back and forth by the fireplace for what seemed like hours now, feeling sick to his stomach. He’d been thinking all day after seeing the article—articleS. They were never ending it seemed. He’d tried to ignore them at first but.... they were starting to make sense. Who was he to hold you back the way he was? To tie you down in the worst way? He was old, ancient, dated; he couldn’t give you children, give you lifelong support and stability, couldn’t provide for you. Yes, that last thought alone was proof of how old he was, but... still. Even if you could provide for yourself financially (he had no doubts about that)—a relationship was supposed to be a partnership. Was supposed to be about helping and supporting and fulfilling one another. Any day now could be his last. Perhaps that was being a bit dramatic, but in all honesty? It wasn’t too far from the truth. How long did he have left before he lost mobility, lost his mental state, lost HIMSELF?

And you’d be stuck with him. No. No, he wouldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t. The thought was unbearable. Smiling a little when you hear his voice coming from the living room, you quickly head in there as soon as you’ve taken your shoes off. “There you are, I was beginning to think you’d ran off.”

Trekking over to him, you move to wrap your arms around him like you did every single day, only to have him flinch away and turn towards the fire, his hand on his chin, eyes glassy with the tell tell sign of unshed tears. The action sends your  stomach plummeting into your  knees, he’d never been so cold or distant, and every insecurity that you’d buried deep for so long came rushing to the surface.

“B-Bri, what’s wrong?” Your voice sounds pathetic, small, weak, and the complete opposite of your normally cheery and boisterous tone. You reach out for him unconsciously, something you were beginning to do a lot of lately, before realizing what you were doing and holding your arm firm to your side, a cold chill running up your spine despite the heat from the fire. “Please, I-I just.. you’re scaring me...”

He swallows hard, closing his eyes a little, but regretting the movement when tears spill down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to wipe them away—the least he can give you right now are his true emotions

“Y/N, I think... I think maybe we should—should take a step back. From things.”

God, he was pathetic. He couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t even give it to you straight. He loved you so much—this was the last thing he wanted! But he wasn’t good for you. That old cliché “if you love something, let it go?”. He never thought it was true. But... maybe in this situation, it was… In your relatively short life, you’d never had to experience something that had the potential to break your heart, never been subjected to a time when you could physically feel your insides disintegrating, so you didn’t know how it felt.. not until Brian’s words sunk in.

“W-what do you mean take a s-step back.. Bri..” Your hands were shaking, hell your whole body was shaking, you knew what he meant, you knew what he was saying, you just…didn’t want to believe it.

“Y-you’re not... Brian, you can’t do this…” Your voice is heavy and choked with tears, every feeling you’d been subjected to over the past 5 months was crashing through you like a goddamn cannonball, and it wasn’t a good feeling. Everything had been for nothing..

“D-do you j-just not love me? Is that it? Did y-you... was all of this a lie” You can’t even make it to the couch to sit down, collapsing onto the floor as the weight of the situation takes hold.

Brian is  shaking himself. He’s scared to touch you—scared of how you’ll react, of how HE’LL react. So he slowly sinks down to the floor next to you, sitting there, utterly defeated.

“I do love you. I love you more than anything else in my life,” His breath hitches; breaks. He tries to keep speaking.

“I love you more than anyone I’ve ever—" More tears fall, and he stares at his trembling hands.

“I’m no good for you, Y/N. Who are we—who are we kidding? You need someone else. You need things I can’t g-give you. You’re going to be 30, taking care of your boyfriend who can’t walk, can’t think for himself—will I even live to see you reach 40? Do you want to be a 40 year old woman tied down to a 91 year old?? How is that... how is this...”

His voice cuts out, and when he speaks again, it’s more than obvious how much pain he’s in.

“How could I do that to you? How could I let myself just... burden you?”

You can’t even look at him, hurt, betrayal, anger, sadness, goddamn near every emotion is washing through you now, taking your heart and smashing it against a rock. I want to be rational, to talk this out with him, to be an adult… It was obvious that he didn’t want this, that his heart was breaking just as much, if not more, that your’s…but you were just so goddamn HURT.

“Y-you said you w-would never hurt me Brian, you PROMISED that you w-would never I do a-anything to make me cry, a—" The dam breaks and you’re sobbing, hands moving to cover your face as you draw your knees closer to your chest, just trying to hide yourself away from the world, from your own embarrassment.

“I love you Brian, only I g-get to decide what’s g-good for me! I-I can’t believe you’d do this to me... a-after everything...” You feel horrible, more than horrible, because you know he means well, deep down you know that... but you can’t help it. You’re pissed, you’re hurt, and you’re not looking to spare any feelings, no matter how much you love and care for Brian.

“Fuck you Brian.. goddamnit, I gave you everything I had, and you j-just... I hate you..”

Its immature, not poetic, and certainly not something you’d ever thought you would say to him, but it’s what you were feeling, and those feelings were valid. Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing up on shaky legs, basically running to the door, somehow having enough of a mind to grab your purse before walking right back out into the cold London air, your tears nearly freezing against your cheeks.

Brian flinches at your words, a small sob bursting from his chest. He just sits there; why should he stop you? You hated him. You HATED him. The words kept echoing through his mind. He’d been right—he was bad for you. This proved it. He hurt everyone he ever loved. Every time he tried to do the right thing.... He’s suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea, and he fumbles for the wastebin that was luckily over to the side of the wall. As soon as he gets it in his hands, he’s throwing up into it, his stomach emptying itself. He just feels completely numb. He knows he’s still crying but he can barely feel it; can honestly barely feel anything. Not the heat of the fire, not the hard ground below him hurting his legs. All there is in his head is your words. He can’t even fucking move.

You don’t even know how long you’ve walked for, tears streaming down your cheeks. You were hurt, betrayed, gutted, and immensely guilty at what you had said to Brian. He had been through so much in his life, had lost so many people, he didn’t deserve to be told that someone hated him.. he didn’t deserve that from you, not even when he’d hurt you so badly… You knew why he had said what he did, why he wanted to end your relationship, and if you had just stayed and talked it out with him rationally, like an adult, the two of you would’ve been eating dinner together now. But instead, you’re walking up the stairs to Roger’s house, surprise etched onto your face at the fact that your feet had led you to Brian’s best friend’s door. The two of you had developed an incredible relationship over the span of you and Bri’s, and you knew that you could come to him if anything went wrong, but.. you still felt bad for doing this. When you buzz the gate, he’s outside within 30 seconds, noticing your distraught appearance and quickly ushered you inside, holding you close as he can while you cry. He asks no questions, just comforts you with his embrace before settling you into a guest room.

Brian sits on the ground for a long time—until the fire dies down at least. His phone rings several times, and he can see that it’s Roger, but he doesn’t answer. He’s literally just staring off into space. He feels pathetic and shitty and horrible—but he’s not thinking that because he feels that way. He’s thinking it in the sense of being a horrible person. He knows he should get up and brush his teeth and shower and maybe eat something, but it’s like he can’t. He hasn’t felt like this in... well, he knows when. But thinking about that makes everything worse. The thought crosses his mind that he has nothing to live for anymore, but his logical brain knows that’s not true. That it’s just the depression talking. That he still has his kids. His grandkids. Roger. Unless they all take your side. He wouldn’t blame them if they did.

There had never been a moment in your life where you’d cried yourself to sleep as fast as you did that night. As soon as your head had hit the pillow, the floodgates opened again and every horrible emotion you’d felt that day came rushing right back. You were nauseous, throwing up into the toilet of the en-suite bathroom three times before you managed to calm down. You can hear Roger downstairs, and for some reason just knowing that you weren’t alone was comfort enough. You somehow managed to crawl back into bed despite the debilitating pains in your stomach, head, and chest. This was never a situation you’d thought you’d find yourself in, not with Brian, you’d been so strong and sure in the relationship. Sure, you had only been dating for 5 months, it felt like you’d known him your whole life.. you had been waiting for a proposal any day now…but now.. now it was just over. By some miracle, you manage to fall asleep that night without any nightmares, because for once, your reality was scarier than anything your mind could dream up.

When Brian finally hauls himself up off the floor, his joints creak and bones ache. He gets rid of the mess in the wastebin, and heads upstairs to his bedroom. He showers, doing his best not to eye the razor sitting inconspicuously in the corner. He needed to shave, but didn’t want to chance anything. He wouldn’t backslide; not that far. Still, he doesn’t allow himself to eat after his shower is done. It’s some level of self punishment he’ll allow, even if he shouldn’t. His phone is still ringing off the hook so he finally answers. It’s not very polite, his telling Roger to fuck right off and stop calling him. He knows he sounds absolutely horrible, but... that’s who he was, wasn’t he? A horrible person, who didn’t deserve you in the first place, and definitely doesn’t now.

The first thing that registers when you wake up is that it’s still dark out, and your head is pounding worse than any hangover has ever caused, probably because you’d cried yourself into dehydration. Checking your phone, you’re a little shocked to see that it’s 4am, and that you had about 400 missed calls and texts from Louisa. The sight makes your  heart shatter even more, knowing that you and her father were over... Sighing, you sit up in bed, smiling a little at the Panadol and water that Roger had left by your bed before throwing it back and getting out of bed. Your legs are wobbly, but you needed to do something. You were stronger than this, you had to be the strong one in the relationship relationship, you always had been.. and when you read the texts from Louisa, that Roger had called her, that Brian wasn’t answering any of her phone calls or the door to their house, a sinking pit forms in your stomach, one that you’d only felt the time you’d had to pull your best friend out of the bathtub.. Quickly opening your Uber app, you grab my things and head downstairs, shooting a text to Roger thanking him for everything before you walk out the door, locking it behind you. You hoped that he was strong enough not to do what you were fearing, and you desperately hoped to god that the Uber driver didn’t mind breaking a few laws.

Brian is still laying curled up in bed even after he wakes up, the drapes still closed, everything dark. His stomach was screaming at him to eat something, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to if he tried. He just kept thinking about everything—your words, your crying, the look on your face. You’d been so... angry. God, it made his stomach curdle again just thinking about it. He’d left his phone unplugged, and all the ringing and messages had eventually caused it to die.

 Thankfully Roger’s London home wasn’t too far from Bri’s, and the Uber driver could obviously tell that you were distressed, and kindly stepped on it. Once you were at the front door, after a quick thank you, you shakily pull the keys from your bag, unlocking the door before going to turn off the alarm, only to realize it’d not been turned on. Furrowing your brows, you sit everything down on the dining room table before moving around the first level of the house, searching in vain to find Brian, and with every room you exited with no sign of him, the pit in your stomach grew. You don’t even know how you’d managed to climb the stairs with your legs shaking the way they were, but once you reach the upper landing, you take a deep shuddering breath and head towards Brian’s room, pausing outside the door, just trying to prepare yourself for what you might find. However, what you find is better than the alternative, but still breaks your heart; well, the shards that were left of your heart. Brian was lying still on your side of the bed, curled around your pillow, his body shaking with sobs you weren’t even sure he knew were happening.

“B-Bri.. love…” Your voice is soft, you don’t want to scare him as you tentatively approach the bed.

He barely registers your voice; it literally doesn’t even compute in his brain. It’s not until he sees you that he blinks up at you, frowning, trying to process what he’s seeing. He feels light headed honestly. He was probably dehydrated from crying and puking, and weak from having not eaten.

“I—Y/N? What’re y’doing here?” His words are literally slurred, and he’s embarrassed by how rough he must look.

You can feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to cloud your vision as you look down at Brian. He had obviously taken a shower, which was good, but he was as pale as a ghost, shaking all over, and based on the way his body was curled up against your pillow, he was just as upset and distraught as you were, probably more. Sighing, you drop to your knees beside him, brushing a shaking hand through his hair before resting it on his cheek, swallowing hard, not wanting to scare him or give him any other reason to feel shitty. “I-I couldn’t just leave you like that Bri, I was horrible to you, said things in anger that I never should’ve said... that I never meant..” Your voice cracks a little, worry and pain working it’s way back inside of your chest.

“I should’ve been m-more mature, not walked out like that.. we needed to sit down and talk this out, and instead I-I just blew up and hurt you so much…” Leaning down and place a kiss to his cheek, your tears start to fall.

“I don’t even know how to begin going and asking for your forgiveness.”

He shakes his head weakly, lightheaded as he does so. He’s shivering, freezing cold even under his thick duvet. “I d-deserve it. I deserve for you to h-hate me. I hurt you—m’not good for you, I...” He hitches out a breath, though it’s more like a sob. He curls further in on himself, party hoping you’re just his imagination; that maybe you actually do love him after all. That you can convince him that none of it matters except their love for one another.

“Oh Bri, look at me honey, please…” He doesn’t, only shoves his face further into the pillow, body shaking with sobs, the sound making your own tears fall heavily, clouding your vision.

“I love you Brian, I don’t hate you, I n-never could.. I was angry, and hurt, but I don’t hate you…” He only cries harder, so you quickly crawl into bed behind him, wrapping your arms tight around his body, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could, just wanting to comfort him.

“You don’t deserve for me to hate you, you don’t deserve for anyone to hate you honey, I love you so much, and I’m so so sorry I acted like that…” Your stomach was hurting something fierce, like 10,000,000 tiny knives of regret were stabbing you over and over.

He turns and just clings to you, sobbing into your neck, fear and anxiety and worthlessness all mixing together inside of him. He hates himself for hurting you, for clinging to you, for being so goddamn pathetic. But he’s crying so hard he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t deserve your arms around him but he somehow has them.

“I- l-love y-you” It is all he manages to rasp out between sobs, his hands clutching your back so hard he is sure bruises will form… another reason for him to hate himself.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, squeezing him tighter as you sit up against the headboard so he can breathe better, your lips pressed firmly into his hair, your hands brushing up and down his naked back.

“Shhh, it’s okay Brian, I’ve got you honey, you’re okay.” Your tears are still falling, being absorbed by his curls.

“I need you to breathe for me honey, in and out, in and out.. cmon Bri, I don’t want you passing out, it’s okay…” You start to rock him back and forth as you talk softly to him, just wanting him to calm down enough to where you knew he wouldn’t have a panic attack.

“I-I-Im s-s-so-sorr-y.” He is shivering, trying to following your breathing techniques, trying to get ahold of himself. Jesus, he was so pathetic. “I l-l-love y—" He can’t finish it, his chest clenching painfully, which scares him. He couldn’t have a heart attack now; it was the absolute worst time. So he starts frantically trying to do the breathing exercises, vision still blurry with tears.

Noticing his panicked expression, the way he’s clutching his chest, you know he was already too far gone to avoid the panic attack. “C’mon Bri, let’s get you in the shower.” The shower was the only thing that you’d found worked on him, would help him calm down.. a nice warm shower. Somehow you manage to get him out of the bed, his arms still tight like a vice around you as you try your best to get him into the walk in shower, turning it on as fast as you can, not even caring that you were fully dressed and he was naked still, more than likely from his earlier shower. “Come here love, breathe baby, look at me and breathe, you’re gonna be okay, I’m not going anywhere.. I love you.” You sit down beside him, taking his cheeks between your hands, eyes level and staring hard into his, breathing in and out to show him how to do it

He just feels like he’s spiraling. Like he can’t get anything back under control. He’s fucking terrified; he’s SURE that he’s dying. That this is it, it’s a heart attack, and he’ll be dead on the floor soon, and you’d be happy about it. And yet, the more you encourage the special breathing, the more he does it, until finally, his brain has come back down to his current state: sitting down under the hot spray of the shower, doing purposeful, structured breathing. He still feels numb, but it’s not.... everything, like it had been

“There we go honey, good job...”

You hold him close, pressing a series of kisses to his temple, his cheeks, his forehead, just trying to ground him in any way you can. His arms are still wrapped tightly around you, holding you like a vice.. you don’t even think he truly realizes he’s doing it.

“I love you so much Brian... I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so fucking sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to help you see how much I love you, how much you mean to me…” Your voice cracks, emotions seeping out despite how hard you were trying to push them back to focus on Brian. “Please believe me Bri, I’m so so sorry, and I love you more than anything...”

“I love you too. I love you, I love you, please don’t h-hate me, please. I know I d-deserve it, but I—I love you so much I only want what’s b-best for you.” He presses his face into your neck, kind of choking a bit on all the water streaming down onto y’all, but he doesn’t care

You turn a little to maneuver it to where the water is hitting your backs, your arms still tightly wrapped around him, head resting on his

“Shh, no you don’t Brian, you don’t deserve me to hate you, and I don’t, I could never.” You start rocking him back and forth like a child in need of reassurance and comfort, which was basically what he was now, desperate for care.

“I know you only said those things because you wanted what was best for me, but you’re what’s best for me Brian.. I was only away from you for 11 hours and I felt like a piece of my soul had been cut loose, I can’t lose you..” You let out a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “ H-How can I be what’s b-best for you when I m-make you feel like this!? How can I—" He swallows hard, trying to chill out, feeling humiliated that you’ve seen him like this, but knowing deep down this is what a relationship was supposed to entail; being vulnerable. If you couldn’t see him like this, nobody could. That didn’t mean he felt necessarily good about it, that the thoughts in his brain didn’t try to skew every little ounce of happiness he felt.

“How c-can I be best f-for you when I can’t even b-BE there for you?” His voice is weak and defeated, his true feelings finally coming to the surface after hours of trying to suppress them. Brian’s sobs weren’t as loud anymore, but his voice was still shaky and hitched, and it cut you like a knife to hear his words.

“Bri.. love, yes you made me feel bad, but that’s one time in a whole cornucopia of times you’ve made me feel so much better…” Reaching up, you cup his face in your hands, making him look into your eyes.

“Just because you’ve hurt me once doesn’t mean you meant to, or will do it again.. you meant well Brian, I know that.. I know that you love me and you only wants what’s best...” You try to steady your voice and keep calm, but you can’t help but sniffle at his last words, the weight of them pressing down on your very soul.

“You ARE there for me Bri, you’ve been here for me since the beginning, and I-I love you! I love you so much, please believe me…”

Tears are still falling from his red rimmed hazel eyes, though he’s not sobbing anymore.

“Y/N it’s not... it’s not about now.” He closes his eyes; he can’t look at you, too ashamed and guilty to see the tears and pain behind your eyes. “It’s about later.” He sighs. “I’m 72, Y/N. 72.”

A cold shiver runs up your spine at the implications of his words, tears springing to your eyes as well as you try to push back the thoughts you’d fought for so long.

“I-I know that Brian, I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you...” You grasp his hand, the action shaky and unsure, your poor heart aching.

“I know we won’t have forever together, t-that I m-might only get 20 years tops with you, b-but I don’t care Bri, I would rather spend 20 minutes with you than 50 years with someone else.” The sob you’d been trying to choke back finally manages to release itself, and you have to duck your head to keep him from worrying. He already had enough to worry about without you blubbering.

“I-I love you, I love you more t-than I’ll ever be able to love anyone else, a-and I-I just, I want to spend every single m-moment we have together loving y-you.”

The older man is  quiet, listening to you. He doesn’t know what to think; what to believe. He knows his own brain—his own thoughts—are intruders. But it makes everything so much harder. He just wraps his arms around you tightly, eyes clenched shut “I’m s-sorry. You deserve better.”

His voice is quiet, hopeless. He just... doesn’t know what to do. He wants you, but feels selfish for doing so. Doesn’t want to push you away, but isn’t that the responsible thing? Or is his mind just tricking him into thinking that?

You just sob harder when he pulls you close, resting his head on yours as you bury your face into his chest. You’re clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you connected to gravity, because in a way he is. The two of you stay like that for a while, you sobbing, him holding onto you for dear life, but after god knows how long the water starts to run cold. Sniffling, you reluctantly pull away from Brian, standing on wobbly legs to turn the water off, clothes absolutely saturated.

“W-well, guess I don’t have to worry about washing these later.”

You try to make a joke, chuckling lightly. Brian just stares at the tiled floor of the large shower, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Sighing, you crouch down beside him, taking his hand in yours. “C’mon honey, let’s get you dried off and in bed while I go make you some toast okay? I know you haven’t eaten…” He never ate when he got like this, and it was something that scared you tremendously.

He sniffles, struggling and stumbling to get to his feet “Don’t wanna eat.” He’s quiet, his eyes trained on the ground

“I don’t want you to have to take care of me. Don’t wanna be a burden.” Swallowing hard, his stomach curdles again. He has to stop moving; has to balance himself against the wall, otherwise he knew for a fact that he would collapse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats again, wincing when you sigh at him.

“And I’m sorry for apologizing.” His voice shakes, he’s shivering from the cold, and you immediately head over to him, rubbing his arms with your hands, just trying to create some friction/ “I can—I’ll s-stop.” He’s a little dizzy, but still, he moves to grab two towels, one for you and one for himself.

“Here, Brian, just—just let me help you.” You rush to the door, grabbing the towels from him and wrapping him tightly in one. He winces and flinches away from you, making your stomach churn involuntarily.

Stepping  in front of him, you grab his biceps a little harder than necessary, well actually it was the proper amount of force that Brian needed to pull him out of his mind, but you still felt a little bad for the bruises you would probably use.

“Brian. Look at me, and listen to me okay?” Your eyes are hard and stern, you only want to be soft and sweet to him, but sometimes when he would get too far into his head, he needed hard. “You. Are. Not. A. Burden.. you don’t have to apologize for how you feel, you NEVER have to be sorry for how you feel... I love you Brian, I am your girlfriend, your partner in life, and I am going to stay right here, beside you, for the rest of our lives.”

His breath hitches, fresh tears somehow filling his eyes. He winces a little at your grip, but doesn’t really mind it, even if it’s bruising. He just nods, wordless. It’s silent, and then he finally stutters out a word. “O-okay.” he swallows. “I’m sorry—" he cuts himself off, wincing at his automatic apology. “I mean— I’m trying,” it’s stupid to say. He knows words are empty without action. “I love you, too.”

“I know honey, I know you’re trying.” You smile at him gently, moving your hands from his arms up to his face, thumbs rubbing the tears away from his cheeks. “I love you, and I’m going to help you okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you’re never going to be alone in this.” You sniffle, willing your tears away. He’s shivering in the cold, the fluffy towel doing nothing to warm him.

“Come on honey, come lay down.. it’s late, well, early… but, you... you need to sleep.” You grab his hands gently, bringing them to your lips to kiss. “Please?” Your words are desperate, you just want him to be okay, that’s all you ever want.

He nods, letting you pull him back into the bedroom. He’s quiet as you dry him off, his hands on your shoulders to balance himself. He feels... brittle. Like one false move and he’ll break into a million pieces. When you come back from throwing the towels in the hamper, he speaks “Will you... would you stay?”

Nodding gently, you strip out of your clothes before slipping on one of Brian’s oversized sleep shirts. “Of course honey, here...” You bring back the covers, sliding in and pulling him in beside you. “Come here Bri, let me hold you.” He nods and sniffles, wrapping him up in your arms, pulling him close to your chest.

Brian cuddles in close, clinging to you. He’s naked and cold, and essentially tries to bury himself into you and the blankets. He ducks his hands under your shirt, trying to warm them against your skin. You smelled good; smelled comforting. He lets out a shuddering breath, his body slowly warming up.

You shiver a little at Brian’s touches, smiling when he curls in deeper “There ya go baby, just let go.” You drop a kiss to his head, sighing deeply as his hands move up to cup your breasts, your heart pounding at the simple motion.

“You okay baby? What do you need me to do for you honey?” You speak gently, hands moving up and down his naked back

“I need—" He shivers, hands squeezing your breasts gently. “Need you to punish me. He murmurs the words, embarrassed. He doesn’t know how to explain it. His brain was working nonstop, all sorts of negative thoughts and horrible feelings settling in his mind. He couldn’t hurt himself—knew he shouldn’t. That’s what he used to do, when he was younger, when things got bad. But, maybe this would work.

You freeze your movements, eyebrows raising into your hairline at his words. “A-are you sure honey? Are you up for it?”

You were definitely concerned about why he was asking this of you, but you also knew that when he got into this headspace, one thing that helped bring him out was intimacy, but this? Trailing your hands up to his face, you tilt his eyes up towards you, concern written clearly on your face. “Brian, I-I need to know you’re not asking this because you think you deserve to be hurt.. I want to help you, b-but I need you to know that you don’t deserve to be harmed because of how you feel.”

He swallows hard, looking up at you warily “I don’t know about what I deserve but... it’s what I need.” He quiets.

“I need you to hurt me. I can’t do it myself, and it—It’s the only thing that... that helps,” He feels ashamed of his words; of himself. But this was the best alternative to other things. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You quickly sit up, brushing your hands through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay Bri, I just—I wanna make sure you are sure and you’re okay with it.” The idea of him hurting himself made you nauseous, and if you could do something, anything... to help him feel better and more at ease, you would do. “I want to help you, wanna do whatever you need me to do honey.” You move to straddle his hips, running my hands down his chest, scraping my nails over his nipples, trying to build up to the punishment. “Now... tell me what you want baby, how do you want mommy to punish you…”

He whimpers, back arching up into your touch. He lets out a shuddering breath, trying to think.

“I—I don’t—" He swallows, throat clicking. He wants to feel something, wants something sharp to cut him out of his head

“... spank me.” He flushes, embarrassed at his request.

You can’t help but let out a deep moan at his words, your hands moving to his face to bring his lips up to yours.

“That’s what you want honey? You want mommy to bend you over her lap and spank you for being so naughty?” Speaking against his lips, you bring his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down gently. “Can’t believe you’re such a little slut for me Brian, I can already feel your cock throbbing just imagining my hand on your pretty little ass.” He whimpers, nodding quickly. “Please. I wanna—wanna feel your hands on me—' His breathing is a little shallow, his cock chubbing up despite itself. “Want it to h-hurt to sit down tomorrow. Want to have w-welts.” He’s blushing; he’s never asked for something like this from anyone before. Sure, maybe he’d been dommed, but not this.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna regret asking this...” You smirk wolfishly, sliding off of him, making sure to drag your naked cunt over his cock, pleasure and pride filling your stomach at the whimper that leaves his mouth.

“Come here slut, lay down on my legs...” He eagerly does as you say, rutting his cock against the mattress. “No sir.”

You bring your hand down hard on his ass, biting your lip at the sound the clap of skin makes. You’d dommed him before, been really rough, but never once had you hurt him because he was desperate for it. “You don’t fucking move understand? You don’t deserve to get any pleasure do you? You only get to be spanked like the little whore you are.”

 “ N—No. No, I don’t deserve it. I don’t.” He stutters out, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over to him, shoving his face into it. He clings to the fabric, spreading his legs a little, trying to get into a position he could hold. Please—Please, Y/N— Please, Miss!”

The title sends a rush of arousal in between your thighs, a small moan escaping your throat as you bring your hand down again, harder than before, smirking when he whimpers into the pillow.

“God Brian, you’re such a goddamn slut, look at you all spread out for me to spank.”

You slap his cheeks harder and harder with every go, feeling a little bad about it, about causing him pain.. but, you fucking loved it, loved how hard he was clenching the pillow

He cries out into the pillow, trembling all over, but moaning all the same. He feels messy and dirty and nasty and he loves it. “Fuck, Th-thank you, Miss. I’m a little s-slut. That’s a-all I am.”

He shifts again, trying to move further into your lap from where he was slipping a little. His legs slip open a little more, just as your hand aims for his lower cheek, and as a result, half of your slap lands across his balls. He cries out louder than before, tears springing to his eyes—and yet, he’s never been so hard in his life. “Oh f-fuck—"

Your eyes widen and your persona drops just a fraction, concerned for Brian. “Oh god, honey are you o—"

He’s whimpering and rutting again, his breathy moans going straight to your cunt. “You liked that didn’t you you little whore? You liked me slapping your balls?”

He just whimpers and nods, biting down on the pillow to stop his noises being too loud, which you were having none of. Reaching over you grab his chin and turn his face towards you, your eyes stern, voice hard as you grab hold of his balls in a grip that was just borderline mean.

“Don’t you EVER cover up your noises honey, I wanna hear how hot you are for me.” One firm smack on his ass later and his voice is choking out a sob, begging for more.

He feels dizzy, but in a better way than he had been feeling. He sobs out your name, his hips moving against his will, trying to rut his cock against your thigh. Each movement of his hips caused you to tug on his balls, which were still stinging from the slap earlier. His ass felt like it was on fire, but he loved it. “P-Please... Please!”

His whole body jerks when you spank him again, and he gasps out your name once more. “Y/N I—Oh fuck, I might c-cum—"

Pride swells inside of you, knowing that you had this effect on him, that he trusted and loved you enough to be so vulnerable with you. “Yeah? You gonna cum just from me spanking your slutty ass?”

You start to deliver blow after blow, one hard slap after another, rotating between pulling on his balls and slapping his ass. “Of course you are baby, or course you’re gonna cum just from this.. goddamnit you just love being punished by me don’t you honey, just love having your little man cunt absolutely destroyed because you know it’s what you deserve...” You’ve leaned down, whispering in his ear as you continue to smack and tug, knowing he’s close as can be, just hoping to send him over the edge.

Your final words do it, humiliation streaking through him. He lets out a sob, feeling the dirtiest he’s ever felt in his life as his hips jerk, his cock pulsing out cum messily all over your leg and the bedspread. He’s gasping for air, tears blurring his vision so much that he just closes his eyes. His hips continue to twitch, his balls pulsing in your hand.

“There ya go honey, just let go—breathe for me baby…” You run your hands up and down Brian’s back, gently scraping your nails along the slightly tanned skin to try and bring him back to earth. His entire body was shaking, and his hot cum completely coated your leg, only a few drops seemed to have gotten on the bed, which was a miracle in and of itself. You spare a glance down to Brian’s poor cheeks, wincing a bit as you take in just how red and welted they are. You’d need to get him an ice pack and some salve ASAP, but, you couldn’t move just yet, not with him clinging to your legs the way he was. “Baby, you did so good for me, I’m so so proud of you honey.. such a good boy.”

 He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, his head spinning. His ass hurts, but it feels good at the same time. No regrets. And despite his spinning head, his mind feels clearer than it has in days. “Fuck.” He murmurs, wiping his face on the pillow below him. His hand comes down to fumble at you, finally settling on your side. “T-thank you. I love you s-so much.”

 You bend over, pressing a series of kisses to his back and neck, your hands running up and down the cool skin before moving to rest on the hand he’s placed on your hip.

“I love you too Brian, so much…” Taking one last look at his red bottom, you sigh a little.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you cleaned up and then you can lie down and I’ll rub some salve over you okay? I don’t want you being in too much pain.” You make a move to stand, helping Brian do the same as you lead him to the bathroom, cleaning him and yourself up as quickly as you can before grabbing every moisturizer we own, plus making a quick get away downstairs to grab a few ice packs. Returning to the bedroom, you smile gently when you see him standing beside the bed, hands crossed in front of him, a deep red flush from his hairline to his thighs. “Okay honey, you lie down on your tummy and let me take care of you okay? Just relax and I’ll make you feel good…”

He nods, doing what you say easily, happy to follow your instructions. He lays down gingerly, wincing a little but trying to hide it; he doesn’t want you to feel bad.

He jumps at the first touch of your hand to his skin, but soon he’s sighing happily, relaxing into the mattress.

“That feels nice, love. Really good.” He moans softly, your hands lulling him into security.

 You can’t help but feel a little bad about the welts already forming on Brian’s ass, the redness making my heart clench, but seeing how calm and at ease the action had made him gives you a sense of peace... besides, if it helped him, you weren’t about to refuse him.

“If this is going to be a regular occurrence, I’m gonna have to invest in some top notch blister lotion for you honey.” You chuckle lightly, massaging the lavender lotion deep into his red skin, the sounds of his soft moans filling the room.

 He lets out a sound that’s an honest to god giggle, still feeling a little lightheaded, but this time from the subspace he was floating in.

“Maybe that would be a good investment for us, then. Though I like this...” He trails off, as if losing his train of thought, only to speak again after a long pause. “It smells nice.”

You chuckle “It does smell nice doesn’t it? Lavender helps relax you and soothes the skin, it’s exactly what you need honey.”

You keep kneading his ass for a little bit longer, smiling widely at his little noises, loving that you were making him feel good and relaxed. “You want me to get your back too Bri? Since I’m already back here.”

It just seemed logical, that you would continue the massage. It was about 5:30am at this point, and you knew we both needed to sleep, but Brian was loving this massage, and he seemed more relaxed than he had in weeks, so you weren’t about to stop now.

He pulls himself up on his elbows to look back at you, expression open and vulnerable. “You... you don’t have to.”

He feels a bit of guilt creeping in—nothing like the feelings he was having earlier, but... you’d done so much for him, and he’d done nothing for you.

You reach forward, scratching his back gently.

“I don’t mind baby, I wanna make you feel good.” You know he’s reluctant to accept, he always wants to be the one to take care of you, but he just.. he needs to be taken care of, and you didn’t mind “If you don’t want me to, I won’t Bri, but I just wanna make you feel special.” You lean down and place a single kiss to the middle of his spine, the action gentle and reassuring.

He thinks for a moment before settling back down into his pillow, nodding, his curls bouncing a little.

“Okay, love. If you want to, it would—it would feel nice.” His muscles still ached from his long period of sitting on the floor of the living room earlier.

“Thank you. I love you.” He murmurs into the soft fabric under his face, savoring the words, remembering how just a couple hours ago he’d lost the right to say such a thing.

You move your lips up his spine some more, nipping the skin just a little.

“Of course baby.. you deserve it.” You lean back, squirting some of the lotion onto his back, giggling a little when he jolts.

“Sorry, it’s a little cold.” He snorts, shaking his head against the fabric of the pillow. Shaking your own head, you start massaging his back, straddling his lower back as you work on his traps, digging in hard, working the knots out, your brows furrowing at how tense he was.

“Oh my god Brian, you’re so tense.. I’m gonna have to start doing this more often.. can’t have you getting knots like these on tour.”

He grunts a little at your ministrations—they kinda hurt, but in the best way. Just like earlier.

“Well, I’m an old man, lovely. I’m surprised my entire body isn’t one big knot.” He stretches a little, his muscles rippling under his skin, under your hands. “They work themselves out on tour, mostly. At least I’m moving around on stage. Rog has to sit most of the time.”

You have to bite your lip at the feeling of his muscles moving and tightening underneath your hands, your naked cunt still pressed firmly against his lower back. You were praying, for the first time in years, that he couldn’t feel your wetness, that he wouldn’t be freaked out by you being turned on by this.

“If you were one big knot, I’d spend everyday unfurling it for you.” Leaning down, you place a kiss to the back of his head, nuzzling his silver curls just a tad.

“You’re just gonna have to bring me with you to be your personal masseuse then.. I don’t want you “working out” your knots in stage, you need to be cared for... tenderly…”

“Personal masseuse hmm?” He chuckles softly, sounding thoughtful.

“Sounds like that’s a job that benefits you more than it does me.” He teases lightly; it felt like every nerve of his was alight, feeling every touch of yours—and he did mean EVERY touch. Besides, he knew by now what you sounded like when you were turned on

“Still, I’d be more than happy to offer you the position. You’re more than qualified, you know.”

Chuckling lightly at his words, you move your hands down further on his back, closer to where you were straddling him, yet you were still leaned over, your lips presses against the back of his neck.

“Yeah? Am I just that good or are you trying to butter me up?” He adjusts himself, bucking up into you just a little, causing your clit to rub deliciously against his back. The resulting whimper was one that you couldn’t keep back, and anyway, your mouth was so close to his ear there was really no sense in you trying to hide it... besides, you wanted him to know now, wanted him to know that you wanted HIM.

He groans at the noise you make; at the soft, warm slickness of your cunt against his skin

“Well I’d say you’re the best damn masseuse I’ve ever had, love. You’ve just got a.... unique touch.” He smirks to himself at his dumb innuendo

“.... here’s an idea. How’s about a head massage?”

You stop your movements, sitting up just a little bit as confusion washes over you at his words…you think you know what he’s saying, but.. you’re not entirely sure “H-head massage?”

You hitch out a gasp as he bucks his back again, your clit caught between his skin and your own. “I-I can g-get the head scratcher if you want honey, if that’s what you n-need.” Your head lolls forward, hitting his upper back, a breathy moan escaping your mouth.

He laughs before wriggling himself around under you. You climb off him in confusion, your brows arched at him. He rolls onto his back for tugging at you again.

“Okay, come back.” You straddle his hips, and his hands settle on your waist

“No, up here.” He tugs at you, urging you further up his body, a little smirk on his face.

“You can put your hands in my hair the way I like, but I want you—" You’re straddling his stomach now, and he pouts, trying to get you up to his face. “—closer.”

You raise your eyebrows, smirk wide on your face when you finally understand what he wants. “Oh really? How much closer?”

You slowly drag my pussy along his stomach, inching your way towards his chest. “Here?” He pouts and shakes his head, pulling you closer to his face. “Hmm... here?”

You slide up closer, your legs over his shoulders now.

He hums as if considering it, his hands squeezing your ass as he arches his neck to press a gentle kiss to one of your thighs.

“Well I’ll admit, I like it. But I think I’d like you even closer.” He smiles when you pretend to act surprised, and he looks up at you through his lashes, Hazel eyes wide and innocent.

“What? You don’t want to be closer?” He lets his head flop back down against the pillows, sighing wistfully.

“Wouldn’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

 You hum in false consideration, burying your hands in his hair, your fingers locking into a few of his curls, tugging gently.

“I mean... I GUESS I can move a little closer…” You do just that, not giving him any warning before you settle your cunt right on his mouth, groaning at the friction.

“T-this close enough f-for you baby?”

He moans, the sound still loud even though it’s muffled by your cunt. His hands move to clutch at your hips, holding you down firmly so he can start licking over your folds. He’s eager and quick to find your clit, latching on and sucking on it while his tongue flicks against the little nub. You tasted so fucking sweet—he wanted more of it

The noise that escape your mouth at his ferocity and eagerness is borderline obscene.

“F-fuck Brian! Oh baby, y-you, FUCK!” You have to move one of your hands to the headboard to keep myself upright, your orgasm already fast approaching thanks to the sensitivity of your clit from your grinding earlier.

“C-cmon Bri, y-you can do b-better than that honey, e-eat me like you mean it.” You loved talking to Brian like this, it always made him go harder and be more intense.

Brian lets out a noise akin to a growl at your teasing words, his teeth brushing over your clit gently before he tugs you closer to him, his tongue pressing into you as deep as he can get it while his long nose nudges against your clit. He moves his head back and forth quickly, curls bouncing, one hand moving from your hip to slap your ass hard. He wants you to cum on his tongue; wants to have you soak his face; wants to taste you for hours.

You’re gasping for breath as he slaps your ass, both of your hands now clenching the headboard so hard that your knuckles were white. Brian’s nose bumps your clit as his tongue digs hard inside of you one final time before the dam breaks, and your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck. “B-Bri—o-oh my god!” His groans send vibrations through your clit and up your body, pulling whimpers from your mouth as you ride his face, riding your orgasm out as long as you can.

He makes a desperate sound, licking through your folds over and over again, taking everything you have to give him. His hands move your hips to help you ride it out, making you grind smoothly onto his face. He continues until your grip in his hair turns to pushing away, and only then does he pull away, heaving breaths in. Still, he doesn’t let you get far; pressed hot, sucking kisses over the tender skin of your pale inner thighs. He has his eyes shut, a dreamy sort of smile on his face. He loved eating you out; not only did he love pleasing you, but he always actually enjoyed it, too

You all but collapse against the headboard, your  hands gently holding onto his hair as you try and catch your breath.

“B-Bri, I-I.. fuck honey…” Chuckling lightly, you sit up and gaze down at him, a soft and pleased smile on your face. “Help me lie down please? I-I don’t think I can move my legs.”

Brian tosses his head back at your words, laughing joyfully

“Well then that’s a job well done on my part, yeah?” You tug his hair pointedly, and he hushes up, moving to help you lay down beside him. Once you’re all comfy, he curls up around you, on his side. He settles a large hand onto your stomach, splaying his fingers out. He swore if he focused hard enough he could feel your still racing pulse under your skin.

“Thank you for the head massage.”

Burying your face in his neck, you let out a bright laugh, shaking your head at his words. “I’m more than happy to give you a head massage every single day for the rest of time if you want.”

You press a kiss to his neck before sighing and burying yourseld further into the pillows, winding your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer so he can rest his head on your chest. It’s comforting, being this way with him, and it almost makes you forget the intensity of earlier.. but not completely.

“Ya know, we’re gonna have to talk about what happened earlier right? I think it’s safe to say that we’re not breaking up.. but, we do need to talk about everything…” As much as you don’t want to... but, you were adults and needed to communicate like them.

He tenses at your words, anxiety cutting through his stomach sharply. But he tries to ignore it; to breathe out long and slow and nod

“I know. I know we do.” He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry.”

You give him a squeeze, sighing along with him.

“I know honey, I know you are. And there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. You have valid feelings and reasons to be upset and worried.” Your voice is light, you weren’t scared anymore, you knew we would be and stay together… but, you still needed to talk

“You do still want to be with me right? I know that’s probably stupid to ask, but, I just want to make sure that you still want this.. to be with me, have a life with me.”

He’s quiet for a long time after your question, thinking about how to answer. It’s only when he feels you tensing up that he realizes he’s been silent much too long. He rubs his hand over your side, voice soft when he finally speaks, his stomach fluttering nervously

“Y/N, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. No matter how short of a time that will be,” He sighs, “That’s what’s so scary.”

Closing your eyes, you breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing completely against Brian’s body.

“I want to be with you for the rest of your life too Brian, and I-I know that might not be the most lengthy time.. but, it’s still time that we’ll have together, a chance to be with one another until we,” You release a shuddering breath, not wanting to imagine a future without Brian in it, but knowing that in the next decade or so… it could happen.

“But that’s in the future.. and, I could marry someone my age and them die the day after our wedding, or have them develop cancer 5 years into our marriage.. we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow Brian, Hell, I could die on my way to work in the morning... it’s not about how much time we have with someone, it’s about why we do with the time we have.”

He swallows hard, nodding once more.

“I know... I know, you’re right. It’s just... well, no one likes discussing their own mortality I suppose.” He sighs, reaching blindly for one of your hands to hold.

“I should have... have trusted your opinion. It’s not that I didn’t or don’t, I just... I want you to be happy and taken care of. And I’m always worried I won’t be able to—I know someday I won’t be here. And I just... I don’t know. It was stupid I suppose” He drops his head, laughing humorlessly. “If it was what you were feeling, it’s not stupid Brian.. you’re not stupid for being scared, or worrying about me.. it makes me feel loved and cared for, which is all I know you want for me.. I trust you, love you, and appreciate beyond belief the fact that you care so much about me and my well being, that you were willing to sacrifice your happiness...” You squeeze the hand resting on your stomach, wanting to provide him with just a small ounce of comfort.

“You’ve made me so happy just in the short time we’ve been together.. like, I swear to god Brian it feels like you’ve shoved 10 years of love and happiness into 4 months, and—god, I just—I love you so much..”

  He feels a little bit of relief at your words; that you weren’t still angry with him. Sure, maybe your “I hate you” still rang in his head, but he knew it would slowly fade if he gave it time. He brings your hand up to his lips to kiss it softly

“I love you, too, Y/N. More than anything.” His words are quiet and reverent, like a prayer.

You smile gently at him, leaning forward to drop a kiss to his forehead, still feeling absolutely horrific for what you’d said to him, he didn’t deserve that…

“Bri…” You choke back a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you.. y-you didn’t deserve to have me tell you I hate you, especially when I could never, EVER, hate you. You’ve given me nothing but love and understanding, care and affection... and I-I’ll spend the rest of time reconciling what I said to you…”

He nods, not wanting to think about it, but knowing he had to. “It’s alright, Y/N.”

His voice is still quiet; he doesn’t want you to be upset. He doesn’t want you to beat yourself up over it. He’d hurt you, and you’d said it, and it was all.... in a rush of emotions… something he definitely understood, and he couldn’t fault you for it.

“It’s okay, love.” He pulls away from you just a little, tugging at the covers “Let’s just go back to bed, yeah?”

You still feel like a shit girlfriend, but you know he doesn’t blame you, you know he isn’t holding it against you, and you’re 100% positive that he knows he didn’t mean it...

“Okay, yeah.. bed does sound good.” You allow him to cover you up with the blanket, snuggling up against him.

“Rog’s guest bed is comfortable, but the best bed in the world could feel like a goddamn bed of rocks when you’re not there with me.”

He laughs a little at your words, but then frowns.

“Oh, I should...” He sits up, but makes sure the covers stay tucked over you.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I need to call him. I sort of... yelled at him, earlier.” He barely remembers doing so, but he knows he did.

You try your best to stay awake while Brian calls Roger, but the emotional and physical drainage of the day wacks you in the goddamn face, and before you know what’s happening, you’re falling asleep to Brian’s sheepish voice on the phone with Roger. Brian returns to bed about 20 minutes later, after a rather irritated Roger had given him a dressing down that only his mother’s could rival. He appreciated what his best friend had done for you beyond measure, that he had taken you in and made sure you were safe… he could never repay him for that, and the drummer would never ask him to do so. Curled up in bed next to you, Brian falls asleep in no time, his heart finally healing from the gash that he had inflicted on himself earlier that day. He sleeps for a while, finally waking up around 11:30. So, about 5 hours. Not bad. He’s surprised when he finds you still asleep next to him, though I guess you’d been awake just as long as he had. He lays there for a little bit to wake up more before stretching and getting out of bed. He throws on a pair of underwear and a cozy robe and slippers, trying to keep quiet so not to wake you. Then he sneaks downstairs to the kitchen, digging in his fridge to find something to cook for breakfast, he just felt like he still had a lot of making up to do.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, tea to be more precise, being made. The smell brings a smile to your face and you roll over and stretch widely, groaning a bit. Grabbing your phone as you sit up, your eyes widen a tad when you see that’s it’s close to noon, and that you have approximately 1350 missed calls and texts from various members of the May and Taylor family. After taking a bit of time to respond to Emily, Jimmy, and Louisa, reassuring them that you and their father were completely fine, you put on a robe and my, well technically they were Brian’s, house shoes and head downstairs. Brian is stood in front of the stove, humming as he cooks, the sight brings a smile to my face as I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his middle “Mmmm what did I do to deserve this?”

He smiles when he hears you come in; relaxes back into your touch. He chuckles at your words.

“Hmm? Well, you deserve this every day just for existing.” He pauses, flipping over the pancakes he was cooking.

“But specifically? I think what I put you through last night is reason enough for a big, yummy breakfast.” He frowns, sighing, looking down at the pan.

“Although apparently my waffle maker is broken. I guess it’s about time. I think I’ve had that thing since the early 90’s, it’s probably a fire hazard.”

Your eyes widen dramatically and you smack his stomach.

“Brian! You’re an international rock legend, you have more money than the bloody queen, and you’ve been using the same waffle machine for 30 years?” You laugh loudly into his back, squeezing him tightly*

“Could you imagine the headline? Legendary Queen Guitarist and Astrophysics Legend Brian May burns down multimillion-dollar home in Waffle Machine electrical malfunction.”

 He grins, shaking his head, his curls brushing your face.

“Hey, it was a great waffle maker! Besides, they get better with age, I’ve been told. There’s more flavor.” You make a disapproving sound and he grins “Well, Anita and I did have a newer one, but she took it with her. It’s not like I needed it.”

You chuckle and give him one final squeeze, pulling your phone out of the pocket of my robe “YOU got better with age, WINE gets better with age, CHEESE gets better with age… Not waffle makers babe…” Opening up the Postmates app, you tease him while and ordering a waffle iron from Waitrose.

“There, got one on the way now, hopefully one that won’t set your house on fire and kill us all.” You reach up and peck his cheek, showing him the delivery notification.

He pouts when he sees the notification, but leans into your kiss.

“Well I’ll pay you back for that, I swear.” He turns back to the multiple pans on the stove.

“Could you get out some plates? And maybe some drinks? Mimosas sound good, if you’re up for it.”

“You will NOT pay me back for that! A £30 waffle iron pales in comparison to all of the things you’ve given me. Consider it a mutually beneficial gift.” You slap his ass and head to get the plates and cups out, moaning in appreciation of his suggestion for mimosas.

“God yes, mimosas sounds incredible, I’ll make a pitcher?” You shoot him a look of questioning, smiling when he nods. It doesn’t take long for you to run downstairs and get a bottle of Moët, aka the only champagne that Brian drank.. a little cliche but definitely something that made you smile. Bouncing up the stairs, you hyperventilate dramatically, leaning against the fridge

“Okay, with pulp or without?”

By the time you come back up, he’s starting to plate the food. He scoffs at your question. “In mimosas? No pulp please.” You grumble something about him being picky, which makes him laugh.

“Yes mum, I’ve always been picky. That’s what you get with me.” He carries the plates to the little dining area still within the kitchen, before going to get things like syrup and jam and butter.

You shake your head at him, pouring the orange juice into the pitcher, followed by some ice cubes, and the champagne, jumping when the cork pops.

“Ya know, I’m never gonna get used to that.” You mumble it to yourself, but Brian laughs and drops a kiss to your cheek when he passes.

“I guess I’m just going to have to get used to your pickie little ass then hmm? If I’m gonna deal with you for the rest of time, I should get used to the fact that you only like no pulp orange juice and chilled, but not cold, cheese...” You raise your eyebrows at him as you put the pitcher on the table before taking a seat beside him.

He pouts. “Cold cheese is too hard and dulls the flavor, but warm cheese is...” He shudders, before taking his glass from you. “Chilled is the happy medium.” Brian winks at you before sipping his drink. “Delicious. And I hope breakfast suits you. The pancakes have a little cardamom in them this time.”

You give him a look of disbelief, smiling before cutting one of the fluffy pancakes and sticking it in your mouth, groaning in pleasure at the taste.

“Jesus Christ Brian, these are amazing, thank you.” You lean over and peck his lips, mouth still full of pancake.

“I think you should hang up red and just become my personal chef...” You wriggle my eyebrows at him, taking a big bite, throwing your head back while moaning in pleasure, licking the fork.

He snorts. “I wouldn’t make much of a personal chef if all I can really make is breakfast food.” You give him a look and he grins.

“Alright, and noodles. Listen, I lived with three other men most of my life and two of them couldn’t even cook an egg. John was wildly talented in the kitchen, so I didn’t have to be anything special.” He takes a bite of his own, groaning a little.

“That IS good....”

“Told ya so.” You send him a wink, eating as fast as you could, going back for seconds within 10 minutes of sitting down.

“Don’t you dare say anything.. I’m a growing girl, and you made wayyyy too many pancakes for me to only have 3.” You pour some syrup on them, your tongue sticking out in concentration Brian grins and takes a bite of his own food. “I made more because I knew you’d eat them. Plus, who doesn’t love leftover pancakes.” He shrugs.

“I don’t have anything to do today, miraculously. If you don’t either, maybe we could just... have a day to ourselves?” It was rare that the two of you had that, even on the weekends. But the tour was on a little break, and Brian was trying to make the most of it.

“That sounds amazing Bri.” You smile over at him, taking another bite, happiness flooding your body just thinking about the possibilities of what the two of you could do with a whole day to yourselves.

“What do you wanna do? As long as I get to sit in your lap for a majority of the day, I don’t give a shit.” You loved, and I repeat, LOVED sitting in Brian’s lap.. it just.. made you feel safe and loved, plus it didn’t hurt that he usually ended up with a boner, and you usually ended up face down on the couch while he fucked you relentlessly.

He shifts in his seat at your words, smiling a little. Was he already horny just from those words? Yes. Listen, he might be an old man, but his cock still tried to be 20 years old…

“Well we can certainly do that, love. I was thinking of maybe watching a movie or something, and eating ourselves silly, and...” He sighs.

“Well maybe that sounds a bit boring. I just thought we could spend some time together. I miss you, when you’re gone.”

“ Aww, Bri…” You set your fork and knife down, scooting your chair back so you can climb over into his lap. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean  forward to press a series of kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

“I miss you too when you’re gone.. more than you know…” You sigh, remembering how sad you’d been when he’d gone off on the first leg of the tour, leaving you all alone in the big house.

“Wish there was some way I could come with you, the bed is just so empty and cold when you’re not here with me.”

 He looks up at you sharply, arching his brows at your words

“You—You’d want to come?” He honestly hasn’t thought so. Not because of anything you’d done, but just because you had your own life and career you loved, and touring was hectic. It was a hard life to live; always on the go, never any sleep, night after night. But it was his passion and he loved it. But again, he knew it wasn’t for everyone.

 You stammer a little at his words, slightly embarrassed. Sure you’d desperately wanted to go with him when he left on tour.. but, you’d never brought it up because you didn’t want to make him feel like he HAD to bring you.

“I-I mean, I’d like to.. but, I understand if you wouldn’t like that! You’ve been doing this for 50 years, and you probably have a set way of doing things, and I’d probably just get in the way.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head.

“I have 51 days of vacation from work, a-and I could always use that, but…” You chuckle, scratching his head. “I don’t wanna make you feel like you have to let me.”

 His breath leaves his chest in a big huff, hazel eyes wide “51 days of vacation?? How???” You shrug and he shakes his head.

“Okay, well, we’re definitely talking about that later, but...” He smiles up at you.

“Of course I’d want you on the road with me. You might get sick of it, but you could always go back home if that happens. I—I’d love it if you were there. And I know Rog and Adam would like you there too, and the crew won’t mind as long as you don’t sabotage anything.” He winks.

You breathe a sigh of relief, smiling before pressing your lips to Brian’s, tasting the maple of the syrup he’d just eaten.

“Well, I can’t promise that I won’t destroy the dressing room with you...” You bite his lip gently, smirking when you feel his cock thickening under your ass.

“But are you sure? I don’t want to be in the way or do anything that could cause people to be uncomfortable., it’s YOUR space, somewhere you’re most at ease in your element.”

 “It IS my space, and my world. But I’d like to show it to you and share it to you. I want to share everything with you…” He’s quiet, voice open and innocent.

“I’ve never been able to share it with someone I loved before. Chrissie never liked it, Anita already had her own stage... It’s something I love and I’m proud of and I enjoy, and I’d only love it more if you were there.” Though his words are conversational, he’s gently grinding his hips up into your ass, lids fluttering at the feeling.

Your eyes close at the feeling of him beneath you, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I-I would love to do that Bri.. it s-seems so fascinating and fast paced.. I-I think I would really like it.” You open your eyes, hands going into his hair, tugging his lips towards yours, groaning when his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

“Besides, I really wanna fuck you against an amp…it’s not fair how goddamn hot you look on that stage.”

He laughs, wrinkling up his nose a little.

“Fuck me against an amp? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.” He teases, cheeks flushed a little at the thought. He always got amped up after shows, his adrenaline pumping. The thought of fucking you after coming off stage, the crowd still roaring.... fuck, he wanted that.

Noticing the blush on his face and chest, you can’t help but smirk, leaning forward to lick a stripe from his Adam’s apple to his ear, loving the way he shuddered under you.

“No? Well... I guess I can just take care of myself backstage if you don’t want me to fuck you.”

You love teasing him more than should probably be allowed, the way he would stutter and blush, and sometimes just absolutely lose control and fuck you senseless… it was a nice game of roulette.

He clenches his jaw, growling a little

“No you won’t. You’ll wait for me to be done performing like a good little girl.” His hands move to your ass, squeezing gently.

“You’ll wait as long as it takes and you won’t touch yourself.” He hums softly, as if thinking.

“Sometimes I’ll practice beforehand in my dressing room. I’ll turn up the volume and let you ride the amp, if you’re that desperate.” Bingo.. that’s exactly what you had been hoping for.. God, you loved it when he was dirty and degrading with you.. usually he didn’t do this, he felt bad for it.. but fuck did you love it. Biting your lip, you start to grind yourself against his cock, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“But what if I don’t wanna be a good girl daddy? What if I wanna be a brat and make you mad? What if that’s what your baby girl wants?” You have to admit.. riding his amp.. feeling the vibrations from red.. god, it was unlike anything you’d ever imagined.

He slaps your ass, jaw clenching.

“Then you can have your own fucking fingers, and I won’t touch you.” He arches a brow at you. “That’s what you want, right? To get off whenever you want?”

A shocked gasp escapes your mouth at his smack, arousal folding your cunt. “N-no, wanna get off with you, wanna have you fuck me until I can’t walk anymore daddy...”

You clench your eyes shut when he smacks your ass again, a small whimper breaking free. “But I-I wanna be naughty too daddy, wanna be a brat.”

“Well naughty girls don’t get this fat cock.”

You whimper and he cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I’d fuck your throat. Use you, and then leave you be.” He sighs.

“Because no matter how bad you are, I suppose I can’t find someone else. And I’ve got to get off some way.” He says the words lightly, sighing as if put out, but he squeezes your hip gently, hoping to get across that it’s part of this game you’re playing. That he’d never dream of fucking someone else; never want to. You were it for him, and he knew that you knew that.

You’re genuinely surprised by his words and how insanely hot they’re making you.

“No, daddy, no I’ll be good for you, I promise, d-don’t want you going to find someone else, o-only want you to use me as a cum dumpster daddy.” You whimper loudly, grinding harder, loving the way his robe was rubbing you.

“Only want you to use me to fill up with your cum.. p-please daddy I’ll be good for you, I’ll take every drop.”

He is absolutely breathless, your words making him feel hot all over.

“Jesus, Y/N…” He swallows hard, moaning a little as your roll your hips against his.

“Well you’re not being very good right now, are you? Grinding against me right here in the kitchen. Naughty little thing.”

You bite your lip, hands tightening in his hair.

“I-I’m sorry daddy, I’ll be good, b-but your c-cock is just so fucking addicting, and I n-need you!” You halt your grinding even though you know you’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

“W-will you pl-please fuck me daddy? P-pretty p-please? I’ll be so good for you, I-I promise.”

He arches a brow, leaning back in his chair.

“Get off my lap.” His voice is more even than he thought it would be, and he’s thankful for it. You don’t move and he smacks your ass, voice hardening. “I said, get off my lap, Y/N.”

You know that your eyes are probably as wide as saucers, your breath catching in your throat at his harshness, but, you do as he asks, stumbling off of his lap, falling to the ground in your haste to move.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to make you mad... I’ll be good I p-promise.” You scramble to get up, only wanting to do whatever you can to please him, to make him know that you would be good.

Brian swallows hard, his head a little dizzy from how much blood was rushing to his cock. Jesus, he was so turned on it wasn’t even funny. And you hadn’t said no, or safeworded out. You were a dream. He scoots his chair back from the table before gesturing to the empty spot in front of him. “Take off your robe and bend over the table. Legs spread.”

You quickly do exactly what he says, shakily taking off your robe and throwing it on the chair you’d previously vacated, leaving you stark naked in front of him. You’re surprised that your legs are actually working, and you stumble your way to the table, bending over exactly as he’d requested, your naked cunt and ass on full display.

“N-now what daddy?” You were so eager to please him, and GOD was this a stark contrast to last night’s events. But that’s what you loved about your relationship with Brian... it was never the same thing, always evolving and always changing.

 He bites his lip, hands coming up to palm your ass before spanking it, watching it jiggle.

“Fuck you look so good like this, honey.” He tugs his robe open, leaning back in his chair and starting to play with his cock.

“What do you want, baby girl?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so goddamn turned on in your ENTIRE life, the way he was treating you, how rough and dominant he was being? You’d never seen this side of Brian and you were praying to god you never had to go without it ever again.

“W-want you to be rough with me daddy, want y-you to fuck me until I can’t w-walk and c-cum inside of me please” You whimper when he spanks you again, your cunt leaking heavily. “Want you t-to fill me up, I NEED your cum d-dripping out of me please daddy, I’ll do a-anything.” You knew that you should be embarrassed by your begging and desperation.. but you weren’t, not even close.

“God, you’re a whore.” His words are harsh, but his tone is impossibly fond. He sighs, moving his fingers to your dripping cunt, rubbing through your folds.

“You’re absolutely soaked.” He pulls his fingers away before giving your cunt a gentle slap, but a slap nonetheless, much like the slap you’d delivered to his balls the night before.

“O-oh! G-god—daddy please, need your cock!” Your head is firmly placed on the table, hands grasping the corner of the wood as hard as you can without hurting myself.

You had never been so desperate before, usually you were a champion for as much foreplay as humanly possible, but for some reason his attitude and words were just causing you to have a fucking aneurysm.

“Fuck me l-like the dirty little fucking w-whore I am daddy, need y-you to breed me and teach me a goddamn lesson!”

“Breed you?” His voice cracks a little, and he stands, palming your ass, spreading it and your cunt open,

“Want me to fuck a baby into you?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying it, especially when he knows he more than likely can’t do that.

“I’ll bring you on tour with me just to fuck you full of cum every night.” His voice is hoarse as he steps closer, his cock brushing your thigh.

Your noises are pathetic, desperate and wanton.. the kitchen sounds more like a bordello at this point.

“Y-yes Brian, p-please fuck a baby in me daddy, wanna be so full of your cum, and t-then full with y-your baby!” The two of you hadn’t exactly discussed this aspect of your relationship but... you wouldn’t complain if it happened.

“I-is that a promise daddy? You promise to fuck me hard as full every night before and after? I wanna b-be dripping with your cum w-while you’re on stage p-performing for thousands.. me-meanwhile I’m backstage, your cum running d-down my leg...” You press your ass into him, wiggling a little, just trying to get some relief.

He just pushes your legs further apart, making you rest completely against the table. He slips a hand up to your shoulders, pressing against you while his other hand wraps around his cock. He strokes the head up and down your folds, shuddering a little at the feeling.

“Only if you’re good for me, baby girl. You can have all the cum you want as long as you’re good.” He murmurs, teasing at your entrance.

You shudder completely at his words, at the tone of his voice, how his hand feels splayed completely across your back, the way his breath is hot on your neck.

“I-I’ll be good! I-i promise daddy, I’ll be s-so good for you.” You’re near tears at this point, just so incredibly desperate for his cock to be inside you that you can’t control your emotions anymore.

“P-please n-need to feel your cum s-seeping out of me daddy, please, n-need your baby inside of me...”

He can’t take it anymore—shoves himself inside you with one quick stroke and doesn’t let up, not letting you adjust. He just holds you down on the table, one hand on your neck, the other gripping your ass, slapping it every now and then as he absolutely rails you. He doesn’t know where his energy is coming from, but he’s fucking you hard, as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck, your greedy little cunt is taking me so good. You’re such a fucking slut—"

The little scream you let out at his ferocity and sudden intrusion would be enough to garner attention from neighbors if it hadn’t been lunch time on a Thursday. Clenching tightly around his cock, your hands grip the table like it’s the only thing on earth that can keep you from disappearing into the atmosphere. “F-fuck—daddy, y-you’re s-so f-fucking big!” You somehow manage to hitch out the words, your face firmly smashed against the overly expensive wood of the table. Our breakfast was still lying right beside you while Brian went to town on your cunt. He’d never been this hard and rough, but you wanted more.

“C-cmon daddy, y-you can do b-better than that! F-fuck you’re little g-girl’s cunt like you m-mean it!”

 He slaps your ass again, thrusting somehow harder, putting his whole weight into it, grinding a little into you each time. “You’ll fucking take what I give you.” He growls, his hand moving from your neck to your hair, tugging on it, making you arch your back a little.

“Wish I could tie you up all day—leave you open and wanting for me. I can just use you whenever I want. Make a mess of you.” The noises filling the kitchen are obscene, his hips crushing against your ass, going so hard that his balls are swinging to slap against your clit.

 You’re already so close, his cock was pressing deliciously into your g-spot, his balls slapping your clit at a speed and harshness that was sending you closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

“W-want that so much d-daddy, wanna h-have you u-use me whenever you w-want!” You’re trying your best to push away your orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet, and knowing that he probably wouldn’t let you, you had to be good for him, had to do what he wanted…

“D-daddy, I-I’m so close c-can I c-cum all over your cock? P-please daddy?”

 Brian hauls you up a little by your hair, just to let his hand slip over your throat, holding you there, making you balance yourself at an angle where all your weight is essentially onto his cock. Still, he pounds into you, eyes sweeping over the scene you make in front of him.

“You wanna cum already? What a little whore you are.” He makes a disappointed sigh, tutting at you.

“Fine. Cum if you need to. But I’m not stopping.”

The new angle somehow sends him deeper into your cunt that he’s ever been before, his tip prodding your cervix.

“C-cumming for you d-daddy—" You gasp out, his hand closing a little tighter on your throat as you do so, your head leaning back to rest on his shoulder as your orgasm hits you, the intensity of it causing you to genuinely feel like you’re passing out, and you genuinely think you blackout for second.

He curses up a storm as you cum, but doesn’t let up his thrusting. He just plunges himself over and over into you, biting at your neck and shoulder as he lets out strangled moans. He holds you up against him, one hand on your neck, the other on your hip “There’s my naughty girl—just can’t fucking help yourself, can you? God, I can feel you dripping down my balls, even. You’re so dirty.”

 His incessant pounding brings you back to earth, your overly sensitive cunt clenching around his cock again and again.

“I-it’s all for you daddy, m-my cum I-is all yours!” You reach behind you, grasping onto Brian’s neck to try and hold yourself up a little. You can feel his cock grinding and bumping your cervix with every thrust, the noises bouncing off of the overly large kitchen making your cunt tingle even more. You were faster approaching another orgasm, and you knew he was close too, but you didn’t want this to end.

His hands moves from your hip to your clit, rubbing the slick little nub quickly. You gasp and try to arch away from the touch, oversensitive, but you’re literally impaled on his cock. You can’t really move, and he knows it

“Fucking take it, Y/N. You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna cum again, and maybe then—maybe then I’ll give you want you want.” God, he was so close, his balls tight against his body. It was taking all he had to hang on.

“Y-yes sir, I-I’m g-gonna—" You cut yourself off with a scream, cunt spasming, ejaculation shooting from your pussy, covering Brian’s cock, his thighs, god y-you’d just fucking squirted all over him, in the KITCHEN. It was just as intense as the first orgasm, probably because of how insanely sensitive you already were, your cunt holding his cock hostage inside, your walls tightening around him, the only thing keeping you standing being his arms which were tight around your neck and stomach.

“Oh, fuck—yes, there’s a good girl.” He growls out, eyes rolling back in his head as you squirt all over him, drenching his cock. It’s what he’d wanted; what he knew he could get you to do if he tried had enough. You’d done it once before, completely on accident, and you’d been completely embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. But to him? God, it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt. And to feel it around his cock? Well needless to say, he was cumming pretty quickly soon after, still pressed right up against your cervix, coating your insides as his balls pulsed. He moans into your neck, legs trembling, but managing to keep you both upright.

“T-there ya go d-daddy, o-oh my god, f-fuck daddy, f-fill me up!” You gasp and whimper as his cum shoots into you, the warm and strange feeling coursing through your abdomen, filling you completely. God, he’d cum inside of you before, but never this much, he had NEVER cum this hard before...

“G-gonna give me a baby aren’t you Bri? Oh yes baby, god—you’re gonna fuck me full until I’m pregnant baby, fuck!” If it happened, it happened, and I wasn’t going to complain, certainly not if it happened from THIS.

 He just lets out an undignified whimper, hips still rutting into you. He can feel his legs around to give out, so he falls back clumsily into the chair, taking you with him. He lets you rest your head back against his neck as he pulls your legs open, spreading you out. God, if anyone were to walk in right now, you’d be on full display. He groans at the thought, his cock twitching again inside you. He’d never thought about sharing you before—why was he in such a mood today? He sneaks a hand down, fingertips toying with your slick clit, humming when you whimper.

The whimper is weak and barely audible to you, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder, your mouth wide, cunt aching in the best possible way.

“G-god B-Bri I-I’m s-so sensitive...” You didn’t want him to stop necessarily, I mean, his cock was still hard and twitching inside of you... that had NEVER happened and he was.. he was so fucking hard and horny today, and you had no idea what was causing it, but you started to grind against his cock, riding him,.

He coos to you, shushing you softly.

“I know, baby girl. Do you want me to stop?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder gently, just using his thumb to rub up and down on your clit, breath hitching as it makes you squeeze around his cock. He knew he’d slowly be softening, though this was the longest he’d stayed hard in a long time.

You shake your head frantically, whimpering as his fingers continue rubbing you “N-no! G-god no Bri, w-wanna cum on your cock again, w-wanna keep y-you hard a-as long as I c-can!” You knew that he was usually so self-conscious about his ability to stay hard, so you just wanted to make him feel better about himself. You also just wanted to see how many times he could make you cum.

He shudders, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“You’re such a greedy girl.” He murmurs. He’s rubbing your clit quickly, but trying to keep his touch light. He wants to make you feel good, not hurt.

“You’re so good for me, Y/N, love. You’re such a good girl.” He moans, feeling you squirm and flutter around his cock. “You feel so good.”

Your cunt is clenching and quivering around his cock, his fingers softly grazing your clit, and thanks to your previous 2 orgasms, that’s all it takes for your third orgasm to wrack your body, sending you clenching hard around his cock, your hands clutching into the back of his head, your hips moving involuntarily on him.

“I-I l-love you so much Bri, o-oh fuck honey! Y-you’re so good to me!” This orgasm isn’t as intense as the first 2, but to be honest you weren’t sure anything could ever compare to those.

He moans, gasping for air as you flutter around his softening cock, squeezing some of his cum out of you. It drips dirty down his thighs and balls, and he curses.

“F-fuck, babygirl—I love you too, so much— Such a good girl, honey. There you go. It’s alright.” He rubs your stomach gently.

His words and actions are so soft and gentle, causing a small smile to pull at your features.

“Jesus Christ Bri, w-what’s gotten into you honey? That was insane…”

You giggle, turning your head so you can place a sloppy kiss to his stubbly cheek, hand running over the other side of his face. “Amazing and incredible... but insane.”

Brian blushes, leaning down to press a million little kisses over your skin.

“I’m sorry, honey. I... I don’t Know, really. We were just talking and it.... escalated.” He snorts at his own description of what had just happened.

“Are you alright? Let’s get you up and get you clean. I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You chuckle and shake your head, squeezing his thigh.

“I’m fine honey, god, I’m more than fine. I liked it, SO much.” You’re still trying to catch your breath, his hand on your stomach. The touch is making you think about the words you’d exchanged, the implications of what you’d just done.. the evidence of which was running out of your cunt.

“Bri... I meant what I said earlier..about you…” You clear your throat, a little embarrassed. “About you fucking a baby in me...”

 His breath catches, fingers splaying out over your stomach. His heart sinks a little, and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I... I wish I could give that to you.” He’s quiet, voice a little sad.

“I just don’t know that’s possible for me, anyone.” He hides his face into your neck, trying to apologize.

Your own heart sinks a little as well, not at the implications of his words, but at the fact that he felt so guilty about it, the fact that he might not be able to give you a baby.

“Hey, Bri, honey…” You turn around in the chair, his soft cock falling free, a combination of your cum flowing freely from your cunt now. Brushing your hand over his face, you trace your thumb under his eye where a single tear has fallen. “It’s okay.. I-I don’t need anything else but you… if a baby happens, that’s great, but if not, I’m perfectly content with just having and loving you.”

 He sniffles, nodding quickly, embarrassed that he was crying. He hugs you tight, arching up to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“ know... I know, I just... I wish...” He swallows hard.

“I wish we could. I wish I were younger.” He murmurs. It’s all dreams and nonsense, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing.

You give him a gentle smile, leaning in to kiss him. “I don’t…” He gives me a look, eyebrows raised in disbelief. You laugh, kissing him a few hundred times.

“I’m serious Brian, we met right when we needed to.. if you’d met me 20 or so years ago we never would’ve worked, mainly because I was a baby...” You try to be funny, giggling at your own joke.

“And that would’ve been a little bit more intense in the media than us today, if you can believe that.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He pokes your side, shaking his head. He sighs, looking up at you.

“Maybe we wouldn’t have worked out. But maybe we would have. Maybe we would’ve been good. Maybe you would’ve... kept me good.” His eyes are a little watery, his insecurities showing through.

“Oh honey.” You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him close, allowing his head to rest on your neck.

“You are good Bri, yeah you’ve made some mistakes in your past, and you’ve done something’s that were less than okay…” He sniffles, making your arms tighten.

“But they made you who you are today, they made you the Brian that I love more than anyone else in the world.. without the mistakes you made, you wouldn’t have learned from them, and you probably wouldn’t be able to cherish and love me the way you do...”

He nods, listening to you for once, just holding you tightly. He was always... overly conscious of his mistakes. His past self and past behavior. He missed being younger, especially with you. He wanted to do so much more than he could with his old body. But then again, he’s sure his younger self would have done something unforgivable. He was stupid. He still was; last night had proved that, but he thought it was a little better.

“I love you…”

You pull him back enough to place a kiss to his forehead, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too silly, so much.” His hands are running up and down your sides, his lips pressing into your neck. You felt so loved and safe, almost like everything that happened last night was just a dream, a bad dream, but only a dream. With Brian, you felt like a better person, which you guess was the best thing to say, because when you’re with someone you love, you’re supposed to feel like a better person… He brought out the best side of you possible, and you were beyond lucky and blessed to have him in your life, holding you in the kitchen of your London flat, the breakfast he’d made you turning cold. Breakfast that he’d fucked you  within an inch of your life next to.

“I just can’t believe you made me squirt in the kitchen Brian.. sounds like a song from fucking Aerosmith…” You chuckle brightly, kissing his nose.

Brian laughs loudly, his head thrown back against the chair.

“If Freddie’d had his way, it could’ve sounded like one of our songs. But even Roger veto’d some of the dirtier ones.” He sighs, stretching his legs a little.

“I’m actually quite proud of myself for the mess. But I’ll clean it up. Do you want to get into a bath?” He squeezes your hips, smiling up at you.

You moan at the thought of a bath, the wetness between your thighs starting to get a little nasty. “You should be very proud of yourself, maybe you can make me do that once a week from now on.”

You wriggle your eyebrows, smirking when he blushes before leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss, getting up off of his lap with shaky legs, you actually greatly resemble a baby deer.

“A bath sounds great by the way, I feel like a French whore at the moment, so some lavender bath salts would really do the trick.”

He can’t help but laugh at your unsteady gait, but quickly masks his smile when you give him a glare. He stands, walking over to put an arm around your waist and lead you up the stairs.

“Well, I’ll make you a lovely lavender bath, and while you’re doing that, I’ll clean everything up downstairs. Maybe I’ll make us some tea, too. How’s that sound?”

 You give him a pleasure filled smile, cupping his face before placing a sound kiss to his lips.

“It sounds like you’re making me the most spoiled and loved woman in the whole of London.” You giggle when he starts kissing your neck, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he dips you. “Brian! Your scruff is gonna give me beard burn.” You’re laughing hard, my heart lighter than its felt in years.

“Love, I hate to break the news to you, but I think you probably already have beard burn—everywhere.” He chuckles, kissing you once more before heading for the bathtub, busying himself with making you the nicest bath in the entire world. He had a plethora of different bath salts and bath bombs, etc, and he wanted to make everything perfect for you.

You sit on the counter, on a towel of course, watching Brian get the tub ready, feeling beyond happy and at ease. After a while he claps his hands together and helps me down, helping me into the tub.

“Godddddd, you always get these so perfect honey…” You sink into the water, allowing the smells of lavender and oranges to sooth you, the warmth of the water making your sore legs and pussy relax and feel 100x better.

“Please hurry your cleaning so you can come keep me company...” You pout at him, your eyes big and innocent. He laughs, and leans forward to give you a quick kiss, his hand threading through your hair. “I’ll try my best.”

He moves to clean himself up as well, watching you in the mirror, smiling widely when he sees your head drooping to the side. Shaking his head, he bends down beside you, bathing you while you sleep, your mouth open just a tad. Once he’s bathed you, he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead and grabs a bath pillow from the cabinet, for once incredibly excited that you had such an obsession with bath gadgets. Propping your head up, and once he’s satisfied that you wouldn’t drown, he stands, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees, before heading to the door. Brian spares you another look, smiling fondly… Sure, things were tough, it wasn’t going to be an easy go of things… but he didn’t care. Last night, the earth shattering pain he’d felt when you ran out, it only confirmed to him that he couldn’t live without you, and he knew you wouldn’t let him.

tags: @meddows-taylors @toomuchlove-willkillyou @brianmayoucease @leah-halliwell92 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @mariekuuuuuh @unofficialbillnye @stephydearestxo @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @danamaleksworld @dereones98 @glasgowkisschelseasmile @awkwardangelshezza @bellamy1998 @psychosupernatural @warren-lauren @womanwithahotdogstand @oujiacallme @harrisunn @anotheronebitesthedeaks @stormtrprinstilettos @get-on-your-bikes-and-ride @amor-libre @marymaia00 @ellywritesfics @simonedk @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @sam-mercury-sixx @horrorsinwonderland @toomuchtellyneck @asgardianvamp21 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @marvelstuck @softboydeacon @a-queen-on-her-throne @roger-bang-the-drum @frannyxc @mrsmazzellotaylor @reedusteinrambles @drowseoftaylor @doubledeaky @indieblair @freddiedearfriend @subbysharkbabe

[rushingheadlong]

Ok, here's another prompt (feel free to ignore if you've got too many): Jewelry shopping with Bri (not for reader, for BRIAN!!). Maybe mid/late 70s. He's just starting to see more money flow into his account, so reader gently persuades him into treating himself as a little reward for all the hard work he's done. He deserves to own a pretty necklace that won't turn the skin on his nape green, or that belongs to freddie or roger. Reader helps him find just the right one

( @tenderbri I adore you for this prompt oh my goshhhh. This one also ended up fairly long at ~800 words, and it requires visual support...)

Brian breaks the chain on his favorite necklace early one Saturday morning. 

Frankly, you’re surprised that it lasted this long. It was already old when Freddie bought it, practically ancient by the time it was passed to Brian, and while lovely it was never a work of fine craftsmanship. 

That doesn’t stop Brian from looking absolutely heartbroken as he holds the oval pendant in one hand and the broken chain in the other, and you choose your words with care as you say, “You know, I’m sure you could buy a new chain to put that on… Maybe pick up another necklace while you’re out as well...”

Because Brian has a thing about spending money on himself. He doesn’t care about fashion, and while he’s bought several rings for himself over the years the only necklaces he owns are the ones passed onto him by Freddie or Roger back in the early days of Queen. They didn’t have the money for expensive jewelry, and although Brian cherishes every piece his friends gave him you’ve seen how they stain his skin green and you’ve watched him fight with more than one wonky clasp. 

Brian deserves better, is all, and now that Queen have sorted out their finances and finally hit stardom he can afford to treat himself a little. 

Still, you’re surprised when Brian agrees to go look for a new necklace chain and even though you had other plans for the day the two of you find yourselves in a smaller, slightly out-of-the-way, jewelry store where the sales associate is more than happy to show you their selection.

“What do you think, Brian?” you ask as the two of you look at the display of necklace chains. “The black one might be nice with that pendant.”

“Mm, you’re probably right,” he says, but he’s not looking at the one you’re pointing at. His eyes are fixed on a small display of silver necklaces, with dainty pendants hanging from delicate-looking chains.

You nudge Brian and nod towards the necklaces. “Those are lovely too, you know.”

“I suppose,” Brian says, as if you can’t see the longing on his face as he looks at them. 

It’s frankly a little ridiculous that Brian actually has money to spare these days and he still hesitates to buy nice things for himself. You get it, considering his upbringing and how difficult the early years of Queen were, but it still makes you sad when Brian talks to the sales associate and only asks to see one of the black chains. 

“Can you also take out that necklace for us to look at too?” you ask, pointing to the one that you think Brian had been eyeing the most. 

“Of course!” the associate says, as Brian shoots you an almost panicked look. “That one’s part of a set- there’s a second chain that’s meant to be worn with it as well. Do you want to see both?”

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“What are you doing?” Brian hisses in your ear as the associate unlocks the display cases. 

“You like that necklace too, don’t you?” you ask.

Brian huffs. “Yes, maybe, but we weren’t here to get-”

“And you have the money to buy it, don’t you?” Brian doesn’t answer that question and you sigh, and reach out to gently cup his face. “Babe, all your necklaces are old hand-me-downs from Freddie or Rog. They discolor your skin or they’re half-broken already… and you deserve nicer jewelry than that. So why not treat yourself to something you’ll actually love?”

“Alright,” Brian says after a moment. “I suppose it would be nice to have something new to wear.”

You grin, delighted that you’ve managed to convince him, and kiss his cheek. “That’s the spirit!”

When the sales associate returns, Brian takes the necklace set to look at closer. It’s designed so the pendant will sit just above the second chain, and you already know that the delicate pieces will look beautiful on Brian. “We’ll take all of them,” he says.

“Wonderful!” the associate says. “Will you need any of these gift-wrapped today?”

Brian declines and quickly pays for his purchase. When the two of you step outside he tugs slightly you away from the shopfront, and pulls the necklace set out of the bag. “Can you help me put this on?” he asks. 

“Of course.”

Brian turns around and holds his hair out of the way so you can secure the clasps on both necklaces. When he faces you again, you adjust the pendant so it’s sitting properly against his neck and he asks, a bit hesitant, “How does it look?”

You lean up and kiss him gently. “Like you were meant to wear it,” you reassure him, and Brian’s small, pleased smile feels like a victory.

[cxptain-rex]

“One dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon” RB cus y’all know this is a masterpiece and I hope you’ve seen it at least! Yeet